Hey Neighbor PT 13
I hope you enjoy this chapter! IDK I know toji isn't a big character in the franchise but I think that makes him so much fun to write.
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Previous chapter
WC: ~2.5k
CW: Mentions of death violence and weapons
You pace the floors of your house to the point you're surprised there isn’t a groove left in your wake. It had been half an hour since leaving your message for Shiu. Now, you waited. For what? You didn’t know. A callback? A call saying you have the wrong number? Or do you call back, hoping for him to answer?
Your fingers bitten to nubs and legs exhausted, you slump down at the kitchen table. The letter is still where you left it. Face down, you couldn’t bother looking at the familiar handwriting that once crafted such lovely notes. Happy birthdays; Congrats on graduation; Just because I love you letter. Now she had spun a nightmare for you to read. The pages fluttered as the AC kicked on. It skidded an inch toward you. You watched it, glad you couldn’t read the blank page—
At that moment, you caught a faint line on the back of the letter. You hadn’t noticed it, more than ready to set it down and forget it. Or burn it. Your fingertips pull the letter closer to you. No, not a line. The script is small, only an inch across. And it wasn’t a word, it was numbers. 4 numbers.
Brows furrowing, you try to think what these numbers could mean. These numbers didn’t represent anything in your present knowledge. They weren’t a birthday of anyone in your immediate circle. Or their death days. Or phone number. It must be a code of some sort.
Audibly, you gasp and shoot up from your chair so fast you have to cling to the table until your vision clears. Once, the dizzy spell passes, you rush up the stairs 2 at a time and jerk the attic cord down. It lands with a loud clunk and you climb up, heart thundering in your chest, your head, your ear.
Once in the attic, you find the metal safe. The blink of the keypad luring you. Again, you didn’t know if you wanted it to work or not.
Your fingers tremble as you enter 3 of the numbers. Pausing to take a breath. This was it. You jab the last number, pressing the open button.
Nothing happens for a moment. Maybe it wasn’t a code to this after all. Oh, well I tried—-
Beep.
The safelock clicks, barely opening the thick metal door. You creep closer as if what lies inside is a snake about to strike. The air suddenly became too thick. Suffocating as you slowly open the door.
Nothing jumped out at you, both literally and figurately thank god. You take your phone from your back pocket and turn on the flashlight, shining it into the mouth of the safe. Lined with black cloth, the inside contains a neat file of folders, each with a date and a series of numbers written on the tabs. Beside those is a sheathed knife. Clearly not a cooking knife, you concluded. The handle was etched with a symbol you couldn’t identify.
A small black bag was in the corner of the case, knotted with a drawstring like one of your small shoulder purses. You untie the knot and reach inside, thinking it empty since there is no weight it.
Fuck!
You pull your hand back out of the bag quickly. The palm of your hand is slit and already starting to leak blood. Whatever you had grabbed had been sharp. Like small teeth had bit.
Gently, you upend the bag and dump the object onto the floor of the safe. A wire slips out, the ends of which have a wooden handle attached. Not just an ordinary wire. This was a garrote.
And not just a simple garrote. This one seemed to be made with a wire consisting of sharp barbs on it.
This was a weapon of torture. And it wasn’t just enough that this garrote was to be used to strangle its victims. With enough strength and tightening this wire could easily slit someone’s throat.
The thought makes your stomach churn. Had this very one been used before? On who? And by whom? Your grandmother. Bile rises into your mouth and you quickly swallow while pushing the garrote back into the bag and sliding it over.
The phone light again bounces off a metal object. No surprise, a gun lay in the back of the case. You use the tip of your finger to pull it towards you. Remembering the adage to treat every gun as if it was loaded. You take it a step further and treat it as an explosive.
Being sure it was aiming away from you, you hold the gun in your hand. The weight is foreign, you had never held anything more than a Nerf gun. Your heart rate quickens as you think about the damage this small object could do. The lives it could end. Had this too been used along with the garrote?
You remember the way Toji had handled his weapon with such abandon. Did he not know how dangerous these were? Or was he already so skilled at wielding a gun that the motion was like breathing to him.
Skilled Marksmen
That’s what the letter said. But you knew that was a more formal term for what you had teased Toji about being.
Assassin.
You mentally slap yourself on the forehead at the memory of it. It all seems so easy to piece together now. Leaving Megumi with your grandmother to ‘keep him safe.’ The child referring to people as ‘bad guys.’
It also explains the essence that is Toji. Big, brutish with his looming form. You imagine the fear his ‘enemies’ must have when they come face to face with him. And yet.
Yet, you also knew that though he had a threatening presence you never once felt afraid. Intimidated? yes. Flustered? absolutely. He was protective of Megumi, of course. And although he technically stalked you while on a date. He did seem to want to protect you as well from a dangerous man. But was that only because he was obligated— Contracted? Forced? – to protect you?
The doorbell quickly knocks you out of your daydream, almost dropping the gun still clutched in your hand. You shove it back to the far corner of the safe, shut the door, and head downstair.
A small part of you hopes it’s Toji. Coming back to explain more. But what if it’s someone else? You slow your steps to the front door. Now you were wishing you had brought the gun along with you.
The doorbell rings again, followed by a knock. By the front door table is a vase, you grab it intending to use it if it comes down to it. You take a steadying breath and unlock the door, cracking it ever so slightly while keeping your weight shifted forward in case you need to slam it.
A familiar voice greets you. “There you are.”
Connor stands on the other side of the door. You huff out the breath you were holding, relieved. But that relief is short-lived as you remember the files lying behind you in your kitchen. Now you are racked with fear.
“Can I come in?” Connor asks, subtly trying to push the door open. “I wanna talk”
You swallow, trying to clear the lump in your throat. “Uhm, I’m sick. I don’t want you to catch it.”
“Please,” he rolls his eyes. “If you're sick so soon after seeing me then I’ve already got it too.”
“Well—”
Before you can reply he shoves his way in, rocking you backwards.
“Gonna wack me over the head with that,” he laughs, gesturing towards the vase in your hands. He says it so coyly as though he knows you are no match for him. You scan his body, trying to notice any odd bulges in his pocket that would indicate he has a weapon.
“I just didn’t know who it was.” you stammer as you place the vase back on the table.
“You don’t have a security system? A camera?” he asks nonchalantly.
“No.” In that moment you knew you had fucked up. Knew you basically announced you were unprotected. An easy target.
“Hmmph,” Connor looks around. Is he casing the place? So unabashedly? “Should get one.”
“My neighbor—Toji. He has cameras outside his house and usually warns me of anything suspicious.” you try to correct your mistake. It wasn’t a lie. You had seen the cameras before, one points from the corner of his house and one near the back door.
“Hmm, good neighbor.” The sarcasm can be felt. “Still should get your own. Who knows? He could be the one to hurt you.”
“I trust him.”
“Yeah?” He cocks a brow. “And whys that, y/n”
“I just–do.” Is he trying to turn you against toji? Why?
Connor stands in front of you with his arms crossed and legs apart. The intention was clear. He wants you to feel small.
He tsks. “You women are so naive and so confusing.”
You raise an eyebrow in confusion. Connor stalks towards you, closing the gap. “Thinking men are going to protect you. One day you're shouting you hate all men, then you’re wanting them to save you.” He grasps a lock of your hair between his fingers. His touch sends chills down your spine.
“I think you should leave.”
“Why? Am I the big scary guy now? Do you hate me now?” he grips your chin, forcing you to look into his menacing eyes. “Who’s coming to help little old you?”
“I’ll scream, Toji will hear–”
“Nice try, darling.” he cuts you off, tapping the side of your cheek. “Mr. Fushiguro is out of town.”
How did he know?
“Don’t do this?” you plea. What you’re not wanting him to do you aren’t sure. Hurt you? Rape you? Kill you? You remember the long list of crimes you had read and a wave of nausea hits you.
“Begging suits you,” he says darkly.
“A bullet in your head would suit you.” a voice says from behind Connor, followed by a click of a gun. “I think it’s best you leave the woman alone.”
Your eyes widen as you stare around him. The man with Toji–Shiu–stands behind Connor, a gun pressed to the back of his head. Instead of flinching like a regular, sane person, Connor simply laughs. As if the whole ordeal is a joke.
He gives a hmph before turning to face Shiu, saying, “Well played.”
Shiu still has the gun raised. “The lady asked you to leave. I think it wise that you do.”
Connor glances at you sidelong, a sly smile on his face. After another look around the space, he slinks to the open door. At the threshold, he turns. “Forget what I said about security systems. Looks like an exterminator is what you need. Get rid of the varmints.”
You look from Connor to Shiu, the three of you standing in a triangle formation—Shiu beside you now, gun lowered, but finger still on the trigger. Connor by the door, now realizing no more words are going to be exchanged. With a crooked grin and a shrug, he turns to leave finally. Throwing a hand lazily over his shoulder as a goodbye. “Trusting the wrong people, y/n”
Shiu quickly rushes to the door, closing it before turning to you. His eyes are now soft. “Are you ok?”
“Yeah?” you whisper.
Before collapsing on the floor.
~Toji.~
Toji is standing in the doorway to the kitchen, sleep clouding his brain from a long week away. The haze quickly evaporates as he sees 2 forms in the kitchen. Both with their backs to him. One in a soft cotton dress, hair in a messy bun. The other is in an oversized shirt, standing on a stool, with familiar black hair poking in all directions. Both with their hands in the sink. Soft giggles coming from both mouths as they wash dishes. Toji steps forward, his footsteps announcing his arrival.
“Daddy!” Megumi squeals, stepping off the stool and rushing towards him. Toji bends and scoops him into his arms. The dense weight of his small child instantly comforting. He kisses his soft cheek. “Miss me?”
Megumi nestles into the crook of Toji’s neck, nodding. “We felt her!”
“Megumi that was going to be a surprise!” the other figure at the sink turns. Toji still swoons at the sound of that sweet voice.
“What surprise, y/n?” he asks as he drinks you in. The way you brush the stray hairs from your face, the softness of your barefoot steps across the tile. The small and growing bump around your middle and the way your hand delicately touches it. You are more than glowing, you are radiant. Breast heavy with nourishment, prepared to feed his child. Our child.
“We felt Little Bean kick earlier,” you beam. Reaching for Toji’s hand and placing it on your swollen belly.
Toji moves his hand around your stomach, trying to feel what position the baby could be in. Suddenly, he feels it. A kick. Hard. So hard it knocks you forward.
“Wow! That was—”
Megumi screams, his body scrambling in Toji’s arms. Toji looks up from your stomach, you are staring right at him with a glazed look.
“Baby?” he trembles.
Blood starts dribbling from your mouth, landing on the floor, on his hand, on top of your pregnant belly. Another kick—no a shot—jerks your body, a stain of red blossoming on your chest.
Toji’s vision blurs at the edges. He looks around, trying to find the shooter, but he’s glued to the spot. Forced to watch as blood continues to run out of you. “No, No, NO!”
He grips Megumi tighter, so tight that the boy's body disintegrates, collapsing into ash in his arms. Toji's blood-curdling yell shakes the very foundation of the world, the house, causing the ceiling to begin crumbling. His arms reach to touch you, to save you. But as soon as his fingertips touch your cheek, you crumble into dust like a statue. He bellows your name once again as the roof falls on all of you.
Toji jolts and gulps a deep breath of air. No house, or remains of a house surround him, just the bright lights of the inside of the private jet. The tires hitting the tarmac send vibrations up his back as the jet lands. He takes a few more steadying breaths. A dream. A sick dream. That’s all it was.
But Toji knows sometimes dreams can be omens. He has always relied on his intuition. It’s part of what made him such a skilled killer after all. He mulls over the dream and the details of it, storing it away in his memory to sort out later. Right now, he has a job to do and can’t be distracted with dreams of Megumi. Of you. Of you carrying his child. Of you being harmed…
This dream was a warning. Everything Toji loved and the life he longed for could go up in flames and collapse around him in an instant.
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