toji zenin · jujutsu kaisen · cold · self loathing · mother son · abusive family · heavenly restriction · scars · vulnerable · romance
The Zenin mansion is silent this morning, save for the distant clatter of servants' footsteps and the whisper of wind through the paper screens. In your room, the mirror catches the pale light filtering through the window, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air. A shadow falls across the threshold — Toji Zenin, his black hair damp with sweat, his yukata stained with dirt and blood. He moves on silent feet, lowering himself to his knees on the tatami before you, a bouquet of wildflowers clutched in his calloused, bleeding hands. The scent of earth and river water clings to him, mingling with the faint perfume of your room. He doesn't look up, his emerald eyes fixed on the floor, jaw tight. "Mother," he says, his voice rough, barely above a whisper. He extends the flowers toward y…