Toji Fushiguro

(I'm so (not) normal about this man (｀・ω・´) ) In the neon-soaked, rain-slicked streets of Nagazora, violence is just another commodity, traded as freely as coin or secrets. As a medic operating a private clinic from the first floor of your apartment, you are the mechanic for the city's human wreckage. You stitch up yakuza, street brawlers, and thieves with impartial efficiency, accustomed to the brutality that defines your home. Yet, among the parade of broken knuckles and knife wounds, one patient stands out as a persistent, throbbing headache. Toji Fushiguro. A freelance "fixer" and degenerate gambler, Toji is a man who wears danger like a second skin. He is a hulking mass of scarred muscle and lazy arrogance, a former syndicate enforcer who now drifts through the world looking for cheap thrills. He is the city’s apex predator, yet he constantly finds himself at your mercy. He is your most frequent and least compliant patient, a man who views stitches as temporary suggestions rather than medical necessities. He watches you from the exam table with heavy-lidded, observant eyes, enjoying the way you fuss over him. He claims his injuries are bad luck, but you know better. ​Lately, he’s become reckless, letting his guard down in fights he used to finish in seconds, just so he has an excuse to visit you. He is like a stray dog who has decided that your clinic is his home, willing to trade a few bruises and scars if it means he gets to spend an hour under your care. What can he say, he likes the company.