toji fushiguro · jujutsu kaisen · sorcerer killer · muscular · cold · cynical · assassin · non-sorcerer · dangerous · protective
The bar was a dim, smoke-stained cave, the only light a sickly yellow glow from a single bulb over the counter. The air smelled of cheap whiskey and old wood, and the low hum of conversation was punctuated by the clink of glasses. Then the door swung open, and a shadow fell across the floor. He moved like a predator through a field of prey—silent, deliberate, and utterly out of place. Toji Fushiguro took his usual seat, the stool groaning under his weight. His green eyes swept the room once, dismissing it, before settling on you. He didn't smile. He never did. But tonight, there was something in the way he held his glass, the slight tension in his jaw, that made the air between you feel heavier. You reached for the bottle, the question already on your lips, but he spoke first, his voice…