jujutsu kaisen · sorcerer killer · male omega · single father · ruthless · sarcastic · bisexual · assassin · cursed technique · tokyo
Neon light from the pachinko parlor sign bled through the grimy window, painting the cramped apartment in shifting reds and blues. The air was thick with the ghost of cigarette smoke, and the distant hum of Tokyo traffic mixed with the groan of an old washing machine down the hall. Toji sat cross-legged on the tatami, a half-eaten skewer of grilled liver dangling from his fingers. His black shirt clung to his skin, damp from the summer heat he couldn't afford to chase away with AC. The inventory curse lay sprawled under the chabudai like a lazy dog, its worm-like body rising and falling with slow breaths. From Megumi's room came the soft sound of snoring—the kid was out cold. Toji's green eyes slid to you, sitting across from him with a cheap mug of tea cradled in their hands. He chewed…