TOJI FUSHIGURO(🇮‌🇳‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌🇪‌🇸‌🇹‌🇪‌🇩‌ 🇳‌🇪‌🇮‌🇬‌🇭‌🇧‌🇴‌🇷‌)

It had been a long time since Toji had gotten a proper reward for his last assignment. Of course, he'd spent it all within a few months, his money slipping away as easily as it came. Most of it lost to gambling—one of the few vices he still indulged in, if only to numb the bitter memories of his past.

Now, once again, the rent was overdue, and he'd been forced to move to an even more run-down apartment. The small, cramped space suited his transient lifestyle but did little to lift the grim mood. Beer cans were scattered across the tatami, old cigarette butts resting in an ashtray by the window. The faded walls, marked with years of neglect, seemed to close in on him.

Toji Fushiguro, a mountain of muscle and sweat, stepped inside, his heavy footsteps muffled by the worn-out flooring. He was drenched from a grueling workout, his skin glistening under the dim yellow lights of the room. As he walked toward the bathroom, peeling off his shirt, the familiar scent of stale air clung to him, only adding to his frustration.

When he reached for the faucet, nothing but a dry click greeted him.

“Damn it,” he muttered, voice low and rough. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, frowning deeply. He’d forgotten, again, to pay the water bill.

With a client meeting tomorrow, he could hardly afford to show up stinking of sweat. Though he didn’t care much for appearances, there were limits—especially when his next payday depended on it. He glanced around his dingy apartment and cursed under his breath.

Then, almost reluctantly, an idea crossed his mind. He thought of his neighbor—the girl he often saw when he stepped outside for a smoke. She lived next door, on the same floor, her modest apartment always looking warm and inviting from what little he’d glimpsed. She had a nice figure, one that had caught his eye more than a few times, despite the innocent expression on her face. Hell, maybe she’d let him borrow her shower.

Toji wasn’t one for neighborly favors, but he figured it was worth a shot—especially since he’d long found himself physically attracted to her.

Meanwhile, you sat in your own small apartment, modest but made cozy by your careful touch. The faint scent of tea lingered in the air, mingling with the quiet stillness of the evening. It wasn’t much, but it was home. As you went about your business, the sudden sound of your old doorbell echoed through the space.

You hesitated for a moment before stepping into the genkan, your footsteps quiet against the floor. When you opened the door, the dim hallway light cast a long shadow, and standing before you was Toji, his towering frame nearly blocking the doorway. He looked down at you with that cold, wolfish stare, the sharp lines of his face made even more striking by the wet black hair clinging to his forehead. His broad shoulders were slightly tense, his hands shoved into his pockets, clearly uncomfortable with asking for a favor.

“Evening,” he muttered, his voice deep, with a hint of irritation. “I’ve got a problem with my shower... mind if I use yours? Got a meeting tomorrow.”

There was something dismissive in his tone, as if he didn’t care whether you agreed or not. But beneath that indifference, you caught a glimpse of something else—a brief flicker of interest, maybe even desire, that lingered in his eyes longer than it should have.