#TY FOR THIS FOOD LU 💕💕

[lazyjellyfish300]

IT'S GETTING INTENSE 😩😩😩

Repeat

Chapter 4 of De Novo (Toji x Reader) All chapters as well as content warnings can be found here.

When we are tired, we are attacked by ideas we conquered long ago. ~ Friedrich Nietzsche

The scent of jasmine lingered in the air, delicate and warm, carried on a soft breeze that rustled the leaves of the garden trees. Toji sat cross-legged on the soft grass with a wooden toy clutched in his hands. His mother knelt beside him, her dark hair tied loosely at the nape of her neck, strands falling into her face as she laughed softly at something he’d said.

“Again,” he demanded, his voice high and filled with the playful stubbornness of a child.

His mother smiled, her expression soft as she picked up the small wooden figurine and began moving it across the grass again, her voice light as she brought the little story to life. “And then the hero crossed the bridge, but—oh no! What’s this?” She gasped theatrically, making him laugh, his small frame tipping back as his joy bubbled over.

“Toji, look!” she whispered, pointing to the sky where a butterfly danced through the air, its yellow wings catching the sunlight. “Do you see it? It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

Toji nodded eagerly, his wide eyes following the butterfly’s path, his chest swelling with the uncomplicated happiness that only a child could feel. He turned to look at his mother, who was watching him, her face glowing with an expression he would remember for years to come—gentle, full of love, unguarded.

“Beautiful,” he echoed, his voice quieter now, as if speaking too loudly might scare the butterfly away.

For a moment, the world was perfect. The harshness of the estate felt far away, as though the garden was its own little haven, untouched by the rules and cruelty that lurked behind the walls of the compound. His mother’s presence made it so.

But then the moment shattered.

“Toji!”

The voice was sharp, cutting through the peace like a blade. Toji flinched, instinctively pulling closer to his mother as an elder of the clan strode into the garden. His robes were pristine, his expression severe, his eyes hard as they locked onto the small boy.

Toji’s mother tensed, she knew today was the day but it didn’t make it any easier. Her hand hovering protectively over her son’s shoulder. “He’s just a boy,” she spoke softly, her voice trembling as she rose to her feet, placing herself slightly in front of Toji.

“That’s the problem,” the elder replied coldly, his gaze shifting to her with a disdain that made Toji’s small frame shrink further into the grass. “You coddle him too much. He’ll grow up weak if you keep this up.”

“He’s my son,” she said, her voice gaining a thread of steel despite her fear. “You don’t get to decide how I raise him.”

The elder’s eyes narrowed, and without warning, he reached down and grabbed Toji by the arm, yanking him up roughly. The toy fell from Toji’s grasp, landing forgotten in the dirt as he cried out in pain and surprise. “You decided that we get to raise him the moment you laid down like a common whore. You’ve been given too much freedom.”

“Stop it!” his mother shouted, stepping forward, pushing her to the ground as his glare silencing her.

Toji squirmed in the man’s grip, tears stinging his eyes, but the elder’s hold was ironclad. “Stop crying,” he snapped, his voice dripping with disgust. “Look at you—pathetic. You’re a Zen’in . Start acting like it.”

“I—” Toji tried to speak, his small voice choking on a sob, but the elder shook him once, the motion rough and humiliating.

“Boys don’t cry,” the elder hissed, his face close to Toji’s. “And Zen’in men certainly don’t waste their time chasing butterflies and clinging to their mothers.”

Toji’s mother lurched forward, her hands trembling as she reached out. “Let him go. Please.”

The elder threw her a withering look. “It’s time he learns. You’ve coddled him long enough.”

Toji’s chest heaved, his small hands gripping at the elder’s sleeve as he tried to pull away, but the man only tightened his grip, his sharp fingernails biting into Toji’s skin. “If you want to be part of this family, you’d better learn to stand on your own,” the elder growled, his voice a low, venomous whisper. “Because she won’t always be here to protect you.”

“Stop it!” his mother screamed, her voice cracking as she lunged forward and yanked Toji from the elder’s grasp, pulling him into her arms. Her body shook with anger as she held her son tightly, her eyes blazing with fury as she glared at the elder.

“Touch him again, and I’ll—”

“You’ll what?” the elder interrupted, his voice mocking as he stepped closer. “You’re nothing here. You’re only tolerated because of that boy.”

Toji’s small fingers clutched at his mother’s clothing, his heart pounding in his chest as the elder’s words sank deep, each one a barb that cut deeper than the last.

“Ten minutes. Have him in front of the training room or face the consequences of being insubordinate.”

And then the elder turned and left, his robes sweeping behind him, but the damage had already been done. The garden no longer felt like a haven.

Toji’s eyes snapped open, his chest heaving as he sat up in the darkened room. The condo was silent, but the phantom echoes of his childhood still rang in his ears—the elder’s voice, his mother’s trembling hands, the weight of shame and helplessness that had lodged itself deep in his chest all those years ago.

His shirt clung to his skin, damp with sweat, and he ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply as he tried to steady himself. The dream had felt too real, too vivid, dragging him back to a time he’d spent years trying to forget.

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he buried his face in his hands. The past wasn’t something he could escape, no matter how much he tried to bury it. It lingered, clawing its way to the surface in moments like this, when the quiet left him with nothing but his thoughts.

Boys don’t cry.

Over and over it echoed in his mind, cutting through the darkness like a blade. Toji’s hands curled into fists, his nails digging into his palms as he sat there, the weight of it all pressing down on him.

He glanced toward the window, the faint glow of the city lights spilling into the room. Somewhere out there, life went on—unbothered, untouched by the scars he carried.

He felt the full weight of each scar that had left him like this, and it left him wondering if he’d ever truly be free.

  Ayame moved around the diner with ease, making sure each table had all condiments refilled while taking her time to wipe the tables down with you following close behind. “You don’t have to keep working here because you think we’re too old to keep this place running.”

  “So I’m… fired?” You picked up a half empty soup bowl, stacking it with the other dirty dishes you had steadied in your grasp.

“Being bumped down to part time.”

“I’d rather you fire me Ayame. Part-time?”

Ayame slung the towel over her shoulder and sat her hands on her hips “So you want to sit around here with us old timers and smell like pig feet?”

  You cocked your head, as if contemplating the idea before Ayame sucked her teeth. “Stop that.” she sat at one of the empty tables and shaking her head before huffing out a laugh. “You have that show club, looking into being a teacher again and you’ve got big bull looking over your shoulder. Full plate if you ask me.”

“Girl wha-” you forgot who you were talking to for a moment and cleared your throat. “Ayame-san, respectfully, the club isn’t keeping me that busy, teaching isn’t even on the radar no matter what Yaga told you and Fushiguro he’s,” you winced, almost cringed at the thought, “He’s doing his job. He’s over security now at the club.”

Raising her brow as if she’s been given the news of her life, Ayama stood up with a grin, “Seems like big bull is trying being sweet on my little spider monkey.”

“Am I being bullied right now? This can’t be real.”

“Oh what do I know. I’m just old and been married to the same man for 60 years.”

You sucked your teeth, trying to wipe away the visual of Toji being sweet on you. “Exactly. 60 years of dating practices that have changed and men who can’t even stay committed for a work day. Your ‘big bull’ is no different.”

  “You need more time to yourself. You’re young, you’re talented, and this place isn’t going anywhere,” she said matter-of-factly. “Besides, I don’t want to see you burnt out. You work at night, and then you’re here half the damn day.”

You let out a dramatic groan, throwing yourself onto the counter like you’d just been struck down. “Ayame, please, I have to work so I can afford my incredibly lavish lifestyle.”

She snorted. “Your lifestyle consists of pasta dishes and secondhand books.”

“Exactly! High maintenance.”

Ayame shook her head, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips as she continued scribbling. “I’m keeping you on for two days a week. Maybe three if I’m feeling generous.”

You gasped, clutching your chest. “Two? What am I supposed to do with all this free time?”

“I don’t know—dance? Perfect your craft? Actually rest?” She arched a brow at you before waving you off with her pen. “Go fall in love or something.”

You barked out a laugh. “Oh yeah, because that’s on my to-do list.”

The only thing Ayame could do was laugh as she cleaned the prep counter. “Okay okay, boss lady.” she winked, clearly amused by how touchy you were by the mentioning of Toji. “But you really do have a lot on your plate, sweet peach. Hiring Kugisaki’s friend to take over at the front is just my way of giving you more time to do what really calls you.”

  “What calls to me is being here for you...so two days and I’m on call if you get overwhelmed?”

Ayame rolled her eyes. “Fine. Just don’t loiter here when you’re off the clock. I know you’ll try.”

Before you could respond with more dramatic protests, the small bell above the door chimed, signaling a new customer. You barely glanced up—until you caught the familiar broad figure stepping inside.

  He was dressed differently today—no jacket, no oversized layers to downplay his build. Instead, he wore a simple fitted black shirt, the sleeves tight around his biceps, the fabric stretching just enough to make you painfully aware of how well-defined he was. His dark jeans sat low on his hips, giving a slight view of the protruding veins that descended down. His usual casual confidence radiating from him as he stepped inside.

You turned back toward Ayame, pretending to be deeply interested in literally anything else, but she was already moving past you, heading to greet him.

“Big bull,” she said warmly, giving him a small nod. “The usual?”

He gave her a curt nod, his voice low. “Yes ma’am.”

Ayame smiled. “Take your seat. I’ll have it out soon.”

You didn’t have to look to know he was heading toward his usual booth—the one tucked into the farthest corner, away from the busier parts of the diner.

And you certainly weren’t looking because of how that damn shirt fit him.

Nope. Not at all.

You forced yourself to focus, busying yourself behind the counter as if wiping down an already clean surface was the most important task in the world. But just as you were mentally giving yourself credit for not staring, Toji’s voice cut through your thoughts.

“See something you like?”

You nearly dropped the rag in your hands.

Slowly, you turned your head toward him, only to find him looking directly at you, one arm draped lazily over the back of the booth, his expression unreadable—but there was something dangerously close to amusement in his eyes.

“I—” You blinked, then scoffed, trying to recover. “You wish.”

Toji smirked, tilting his head slightly. “You sure? You’ve been staring since I walked in.”

You crossed your arms, arching a brow. “You’re the one talking to me. Should I be the one asking if you see something you like?”

His smirk didn’t fade. If anything, it deepened. “Maybe.”

Your breath caught for half a second before you rolled your eyes, turning back to the counter. “Unbelievable.”

You heard a low chuckle from his booth, the sound sinking into your skin before you could stop it.

Ayame came back with his drink, placing it in front of him before glancing between the two of you. Her lips quirked, but she didn’t say anything until she made it back to the kitchen. "Big bulls order! so be generous!"

You busied yourself making another cup of tea, trying to ignore the way your heart was hammering slightly harder than it had been a minute ago.

Toji, meanwhile, leaned back in his seat, taking a slow sip of his drink, completely at ease.

This was going to be trouble.

The air was thick with energy only the Friday crowd could pull in. The bass from the music thrumming in your chest, the subtle lighting created that sultry glow that cascaded over the floor, and the steady hum of conversation blending into the atmosphere like electricity crackling in the air.

You weaved through the tables effortlessly, tray balanced on one hand as you made your way toward a table full of high-rollers. The men were dressed sharp, exuding money, their drinks half-finished as they laughed among themselves. One of them—tall, dark-haired, and already a little drunk—caught your eye as you approached.

“Ah, our favorite person is here,” he mumbled smoothly, his smile lazy. “You keep coming back. Should I take that as a sign?”

You gave him a playful smirk, setting down the fresh round of drinks with practiced ease. “I go where all the handsome men is suits are,” you teased, your voice just light enough to keep things flirty but noncommittal. “And you, gentlemen, have been very generous tonight.”

One of the others chuckled, raising his glass. “That’s because we know how to appreciate good service.”

You winked. “Flattery works on me. Keep it up, and I might just start thinking you’re my favorite table.”

Their laughter followed you as you turned away, already moving toward the next order, the weight of your tray a familiar comfort in your hands. You loved this—the flow of the night, the way the club pulsed with life. It was a different kind of performance that required the same confidence, charm, and just the right amount of control when on stage.

At the bar, Shoko was leaning against the counter, taking a sip of her own drink between orders. She smirked as she watched you approach. “Having fun out there?”

You set down your tray, rolling your shoulders. “Always.”

“You’re glowing,” she noted, tilting her head. “The patrons treating you extra nice tonight?”

You laughed. “They’re always nice when you know how to handle them. That, and Kirara did the Lords work with this lip combo on me.”

Shoko grinned. “That’s what I love about you. You know how to work a room.”

You did. The game was easy if you knew how to play it. You let people feel seen, feel important, and in return, they made sure you walked away with your pockets heavier. Some guests flirted harmlessly, some laid it on thick, and some just liked the attention of someone who knew how to listen.

As you reached for another tray of drinks, another patron caught your eye—a woman this time, elegantly draped across one of the VIP lounge sofas. She had a knowing look in her eye, twirling a glass between her fingers as she watched the movement of the club.

“Long night?” you asked, setting her refill down smoothly.

She looked up at you, her lips curving into an appreciative smile. “Could be longer, depending on the company.”

You chuckled, tilting your head. “Good thing the night’s still young, then.”

She let her gaze linger on you before taking a slow sip of her drink, clearly enjoying the banter. You could feel her watching you even as you turned away, already onto your next order.

As you moved through the club, the lights shifting from blues to reds, the energy only grew, wrapping around you like a second skin. This was your world, and tonight, you were thriving in it.

“You look like someone whose judgment I can trust.” A husky, almost familiar voice came into your line of hearing as you sat your tray on the bar. “What drinks do you think would me win over a few clients?”

Tall, handsome and trouble in those hazel eyes as he smiled warmly at you facing him. “Depends. How badly do you need to win them over?”

  “Very, ma’am.” His response was quick. He ran his fingers near his rich, black roots before fluffing out the blonde bleached ends.

You pondered for a moment, looking him over as if that would help in your decision making.

“If you want them to close a deal with you tomorrow afternoon, try a round of Bow and Arrows.”

  “What if I need that deal closed by the end of the night?”

  “Mm. A man who likes to take care of business swiftly. Go with a round of Gold Rush’s followed by green tea shots after you’ve closed your deal.”

He smiled, turning his face to Shoko to put in the order then back to you. “If this works, I’ll make sure to purchase another drink package with you before the end of the night.”

  With that, he grinned and walked away from the bar and through the maze of tables.

  “That guy looks familiar.” Shoko grabbed 6 old-fashioned glasses and began to chill them. “Hmm.”

You shook your head, staring at the table, almost wrapped up in the air of the man. Hadn’t seen him in before but that doesn’t mean he’d never been in.

You watched as he slipped back into the crowd, the air around him charged with confidence, the type of man who seemed used to getting his way. The strict-faced men at his table barely acknowledged his return, their conversation hushed, their expressions unreadable.

Something about him nagged at you—not in a way that set off immediate alarms, but in a way that made you want to pay attention. The way he smiled, how effortlessly charming he was, like he’d spent his entire life perfecting the art of persuasion.

Shoko’s voice pulled you from your thoughts. “Did you get his name?”

You shook your head, still watching as he gestured toward the table, already settling in like he belonged there. “No, but he gives off that ‘knows people who know people’ kind of vibe.”

Shoko let out a short chuckle as she poured the Gold Rush cocktails, topping them with fresh lemon zest. “Yeah, well. I’d say that’s a nice way of putting it.” She slid the drinks onto a tray before giving you a look. “Something about him seem off to you?”

You hesitated, then shrugged. “Not off exactly. Just… calculated. He’s charming, but it feels like he knows it too well, like he’s always five steps ahead.”

Shoko hummed, lighting a cigarette as she set the next batch of drinks aside. “Sounds like trouble.”

You smirked, leaning against the bar. “You say that as if I don’t like a little commotion from time to time.”

Shoko exhaled a soft puff of smoke, giving you a lazy grin. “Just make sure you don’t let that one get too close.”

The warning lingered then dissipated as you grabbed the tray, heading toward his table with the same moxie and charm as usual.

  “Pardon me gentlemen, here are your drinks.” Each set of eyes that sat in the crescent shaped booth all found a point of interest on you and not the file that sat at its center. “We have Golden Rush. 20 year old aged straight bourbon, freshly squeezed lemon juice, and local wild flower honey with a taste you can only enjoy now.”

  One of the men sat up, examining the drink. “We didn’t order these.”

“Your friend here came up to the bar and told us that he wanted to give you a taste of the cities best while you were visiting our club.” Quick on your feet, you answered swiftly yet calmly as you placed your hand on the hazel eyed mans shoulder.

Another, obviously older, man of the group spoke up with a boisterous tone. “So I’m guessing these drinks will do the trick since you weren’t available.” He winked, and it took every fiber of your very existence to not wrinkle your nose at him.

“Exactly.” You responded, winking back, placing the tray under your arm. “If you all need anything else, just give me a wave. Enjoy, gentlemen.”

You couldn’t walk away quick enough, shivering as you reached Shoko back at the bar.

Toji took notice of that and the entire interaction as he watched you on the security cameras.

  The place was packed tonight—dancers moving in rhythm under neon lights, patrons pressing close to the bar, conversations blending into the ever-present hum of music and liquor.

And then there was him.

  Naoya.

The little shit was perched at a table in the VIP section, lounging like he owned the place, his smug grin never faltering as he spoke with the men around him. But that wasn’t what had caught Toji’s attention. No, it was the interaction before that—Naoya at the bar, his voice smooth, his movements just a little too familiar as he spoke to you.

Toji’s jaw tightened as he rewound the footage just a few minutes back, watching the exchange again. The easy way Naoya leaned in, the way his sharp hazel eyes lingered on you, the way he smiled after you gave him your drink recommendations.

  He knew that look.

Toji had been around Naoya and bastards just like him to recognize when someone was sizing up a person—gauging interest, testing how far they could push. And the worst part? You had no idea who he really was.

  Lucky you.

He drug his hands down his face, exhausted all of a sudden. “Of all the clubs.” Toji exasperated as he pushed back from the desk and hastily went to walk out to the short foyer that opened up to the club before that voice was too close to his ear.

  “Didn’t take you for the type to sit in the dark and watch screens all night, Toji-nii.”

Toji exhaled through his nose, slow and controlled, before turning his head slightly. Naoya strolled up beside him like he belonged there, shutting the door behind him with an easy flick of his wrist.

  “What do you want, Naoya?” Toji asked, voice low, unimpressed.

  Naoya smirked, stepping closer before propping himself against the desk, pretending to glance at the security feeds as if he gave a damn about the club’s operations. “Relax. I’m just catching up with my dear cousin.” He said the word with mock sincerity, like it amused him to acknowledge the blood tie between them.

Toji remained silent, watching him.

Naoya hummed, as if trying to decide which direction to take this little game of his. And then, feigning casual interest, he nodded toward the screens. “You seemed pretty focused just now. Something interesting happen?”

Toji didn’t respond. He wasn’t going to give the little bastard the satisfaction.

Naoya chuckled. “Ahhh,” he drawled, as if a realization had dawned on him. “Or maybe someone interesting?”

Toji’s fingers curled slightly against his bicep, but his face remained unreadable. Naoya leaned forward just enough to glance at the monitor still paused on you standing at the bar, a knowing little smile curling his lips.

“She’s cute,” he mused, his voice light, taunting. “She had this… fire in her, you know? The kind that makes you want to poke and see what happens.” He looked at Toji then, studying his reaction closely. “I hope she’s single.”

  Toji didn’t flinch, didn’t let the irritation creeping up his spine show, but he could feel the slow burn of it settling in his chest.

Naoya grinned, eyes glinting with something wicked. “Think I should ask her out?”

A slow inhale. A beat of silence.

Toji shifted, finally moving—unfolding his arms, leaning forward just slightly, elbows resting on his knees. His gaze met Naoya’s, dark and sharp, his voice calm but carrying an unmistakable weight.

  “You think she’d be interested in a Zen’in?”

Naoya tilted his head, amused. “I am a charmer.”

Toji let out a quiet chuckle, but there was no humor in it. “You’re a headache.”

Naoya laughed. “Oh, come on, Toji-nii. It’s just a little fun.” His smirk widened. “Unless… you actually planned on making a move? Do you care?”

Toji’s expression didn’t change, but the temperature in the room felt like it dropped just slightly.

  “You always were bad at reading people,” Toji said, voice smooth, unbothered.

Naoya leaned in just a fraction, his grin unwavering. “Mmm, I don’t know. I’ve got a pretty good feeling about this one.” He tapped his temple. “See, I think you do care. Not a lot, obviously. You’re still the cold, indifferent bastard we all know and love.” His voice dropped slightly, just enough to push. “But you’re watching, aren’t you?”

A slow, deliberate silence.

  Naoya leaned back with a smirk, like he’d found exactly what he was looking for.

“Well,” he sighed, stretching his arms above his head, “guess I’ll find out for myself. I’m thinking I’ll she if she wants to go to this cozy little izakaya a few people have told me about.”

  Naoya pushed off the desk making his way back to the door. But just before he could step out, Toji’s voice cut through the room, low and measured as he grabbed Naoya’s wrist, gripping it as if he wanted to snap it off.

“Naoya.”

Naoya paused, glancing over his shoulder.

Toji’s gaze was heavy, unreadable, but the warning in it was unmistakable. “Watch yourself.”

For a split second, something flickered in Naoya’s expression—something entertained, something smug, something victorious.

  He grinned. “Oh, I always do.”

And with that, he was gone, leaving Toji alone in the shadowy glow of the security monitors, jaw tight, chest burning and fingers curled into fists.

  Fucking hell.

Naoya was testing him. Poking at something Toji didn’t even want to name.

And the worst part?

He wasn’t entirely wrong.

dividers from the lovely @/thecutestgrotto <3