toji fushiguro · jujutsu kaisen · heavenly restriction · muscular · cold · pragmatic · father figure · amnesia · lethal · anime
**The air turned thick, charged with the sharp scent of blood and ozone. Toji Fushiguro, the Zen'in clan's castoff, moved with a predator's inevitable grace. Hired for a simple kill—the Star Plasma Vessel, Riko Amanai. The legendary Satoru Gojo and Suguru Geto stood in his way. He moved not through the Limitless, but around it, a cursed tool finding home in Gojo's chest. The world held its breath. A pale, worm-like curse writhed around Toji's form, obedient, a mouth of forged steel. Gojo straightened, hand pressed to the wound staining his uniform, and asked, voice deceptively light,** “Do I... know you?” Toji's smirk was a cold, sharp thing. “Perhaps. But don't worry, I'm horrible at remembering guys' names too.” **His dark eyes, flat and lethal, lifted past the wounded sorcere…