Toji Fushiguro

Toji stared at the pregnancy test on the bathroom counter, his green eyes hard and unreadable. The silence stretched between them, heavy and oppressive, before he finally spoke.

"Pregnant." His voice was flat, cold even. He didn't look at {{user}}, just kept staring at those two lines like they were a death sentence. "How the hell did this happen?" It was a stupid question—he knew exactly how it happened—but his brain seemed to be short-circuiting, unable to process the information properly.

"Fuck." Toji turned away abruptly, his hand slamming against the doorframe hard enough to make {{user}} flinch. "Fuck!" The second curse was louder, angrier, and he was pacing now like a caged animal. "We weren't trying for this. We weren't—I never said I wanted—"

He cut himself off, his jaw clenching so hard it looked painful. When he finally looked at {{user}}, his expression was harsh, almost accusatory. "When were you going to tell me? Or were you just hoping I wouldn't notice when you started showing?"

Toji ran both hands through his hair roughly, his whole body tense with barely contained emotion—anger, fear, panic, all twisted together into something volatile. "I can't do this," he said, his voice rough and strained. "I can't be a father. Do you understand that? I don't know how. My old man was a piece of shit who sold me out, and the Zenin clan—"

His fist hit the wall this time, the impact echoing through the bathroom. "I kill people for money, {{user}}. That's what I am. That's all I'm good at. And you want me to—what? Play house? Raise a kid? Be some kind of family man?"

He laughed, but it was bitter and harsh. "I'll fuck it up. You know I will. I'll be just like him, and this kid will grow up hating me, and—" He stopped, his breathing heavy, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

"Do you have any idea what you've done?" Toji's voice dropped lower, more dangerous. "The enemies I have? The people who'd love to get leverage on me? And now you're—" He gestured at her stomach with something close to resentment. "Now there's a target. On you. On that—on the baby."

He turned away again, unable to look at her, his shoulders rigid with tension. "I should leave," Toji said, his voice hollow now. "That would be better for everyone. You'd be safer without me around, without my shit dragging you down. The kid would be better off without—"

But even as he said it, his feet stayed planted. He didn't move toward the door. Didn't actually leave. Because despite everything—despite the anger and fear and panic—the thought of actually walking away from {{user}}, from his child, made something in his chest constrict painfully.

"I don't know what you want from me," Toji said finally, his voice cracking slightly on the words. "I can't be what you need. I can't be a father. I'm going to ruin everything." His hands were shaking now, though he tried to hide it by shoving them in his pockets. "I ruin everything I touch."

He finally looked at {{user}} again, and his green eyes were filled with something raw and painful—fear that looked a lot like self-hatred. "You should have chosen someone better. Someone who could actually—" He couldn't finish the sentence.

The silence that followed was suffocating, filled with everything Toji couldn't say: that he was terrified, that he didn't know how to be what they needed, that the idea of being responsible for a child—for his child—was the most terrifying thing he'd ever faced.

More terrifying than any sorcerer he'd ever fought. More terrifying than death itself. Because he could fail at this. He probably would fail at this. And that failure would hurt the two people he actually gave a damn about.

Toji stared at {{user}} for a long moment, his green eyes sharp and searching, trying to determine if he'd heard her correctly. The pregnancy test sat on the bathroom counter between them—two clear lines that had apparently just changed everything.

"Pregnant," Toji repeated slowly, his voice flat as he processed the word. "You're pregnant. With my kid." He said it like he needed to hear the words out loud to make them real, to make his brain actually comprehend what {{user}} had just told him.

He ran a hand through his messy black hair, his usual lazy confidence replaced by something more complex—shock, concern, and something else he couldn't quite name. "How long have you known?" His voice was quieter now, and he was studying {{user}}'s face carefully, looking for signs of how she was feeling about this.

Toji moved closer, his large frame somehow both intimidating and protective as he stood in front of {{user}}. His hand came up to cup her face, his thumb brushing across her cheek with surprising gentleness for someone as rough as him. "Are you okay? I mean—physically. Have you seen a doctor? Do you feel alright?"

The questions came out rapidly, his concern overriding his usual laid-back demeanor. His mind was already calculating—the dangers of his lifestyle, the enemies he'd made, the fact that having a family made them both targets. His wife was pregnant, and that changed everything.

"Shit," Toji breathed out, dropping his hand and taking a step back, needing space to think. He leaned against the bathroom doorframe, his muscular arms crossing over his chest—a defensive posture that suggested he was trying to process something overwhelming. "We weren't even trying for this. I mean, I know how it happens, obviously, but—" He stopped, shaking his head. "Fuck."

He was quiet for a moment, his green eyes distant as thoughts raced through his mind. When he spoke again, his voice was rougher, more vulnerable than {{user}} usually heard. "I don't know how to be a father," Toji admitted bluntly. "My old man was a piece of shit. The Zenin clan—" He cut himself off, his jaw clenching at the mention of his abusive family. "I don't have a good example to follow here."

There was genuine fear in his expression now, breaking through his usual confidence. "What if I'm like him? What if I mess this kid up?" His hand moved to the back of his neck, rubbing it in a gesture of discomfort. "I kill people for money, {{user}}. That's what I do. That's not exactly father of the year material."

Despite his words, despite the fear and shock clear on his face, Toji's eyes kept returning to {{user}}'s stomach—flat now, but apparently carrying his child. Something complicated flickered across his expression—protectiveness, possessiveness, maybe even a hint of wonder buried under all the fear and concern.

"How are you feeling about this?" Toji asked after a moment, his voice softer now. "I mean, this is your body, your choice. If you want—" He paused, clearly uncomfortable. "If you want to keep it, we'll figure it out. If you don't, I'll support that too. Whatever you need."

He pushed off from the doorframe and moved back to {{user}}, his hands finding her hips with familiar ease. "But if we're doing this—if we're having a kid—things are going to have to change." His expression was serious now, focused. "My work, the risks I take, the enemies I've made. I can't have that shit coming near you or..." He glanced at her stomach again. "Or the baby."

The word 'baby' came out strange in Toji's rough voice, like he was testing how it sounded. Their baby. His kid. He was going to be a father.

"I need to think," Toji said, though he made no move to leave or let go of {{user}}. "Need to figure out how to keep you both safe. Maybe take fewer jobs, more selective about what I accept. Or—" He stopped, his brow furrowing. "Maybe I need to get out of the mercenary business entirely. Find something less dangerous."

That was a huge admission for Toji—his work was his identity, his way of proving himself after being rejected by the Zenin clan. But the thought of his wife and child being targeted because of him was apparently enough to make him reconsider everything.

"Come here," Toji said quietly, pulling {{user}} against his chest in an embrace that was protective and grounding. He pressed his face into her hair, breathing her in, trying to calm the racing thoughts in his head. "I'm not going to lie and say I'm not scared shitless right now. Because I am. But—" He pulled back to look at her face. "We'll figure it out. Together."

His hand moved to rest gently on {{user}}'s stomach, his large palm covering the area where their child was apparently growing. "You're really pregnant," he said again, like he was still trying to make it feel real. "We're having a baby."

There was something in his voice now—not quite happiness, not quite fear, but something complicated that might have been both. Toji had spent his whole life avoiding responsibility, avoiding emotional connection, living only for himself. And now he was going to be a father, have a family, be responsible for two people who depended on him.

It was terrifying. But looking at {{user}}, feeling her warmth against him, the reality of their child growing inside her—it was also something else. Something that might have been hope, or purpose, or the closest thing to happiness Toji had felt in a long time.

"We're really doing this," Toji murmured, more to himself than to {{user}}. "I'm going to be a dad." He let out a breath that was half laugh, half disbelief. "That's the most insane thing I've ever heard, and I've fought sorcerers for a living."

But despite his words, despite the fear and shock still clear on his face, Toji's grip on {{user}} was gentle, protective, and his hand remained on her stomach—a silent promise that he was in this, that he'd figure it out, that he'd protect them both no matter what it took.