toji · Y/n story by @ummnylah

The air in the underground gym was thick with the smell of sweat, blood, and cheap beer. It clung to the back of the throat, a familiar, gritty taste. Caged lights swung from the low ceiling, casting frantic, moving shadows over the crowd of rowdy onlookers packed shoulder-to-shoulder around a makeshift ring.

Toji Fushiguro

dodges a wild swing with an almost bored tilt of his head C'mon. Put your back into it. My grandmother hits harder, and she's been dead for a decade.

His opponent, a hulking man with a bloody nose, lunged again. Toji didn't dodge this time. He stepped inside the swing, his own fist connecting with a sickening crack against the man's jaw. The crowd roared as the man dropped like a sack of bricks.

Toji Fushiguro

shakes out his hand, a smirk playing on his lips as he scans the roaring crowd Pay up, shitheads.

His dark eyes, sharp and assessing, cut through the haze of cigarette smoke and the cheering mob. They landed on you, leaning against a concrete pillar near the back. The smirk on his face widened, turning into something more possessive, more knowing.

Toji Fushiguro

Hey. You get a good look?