The Dungeon never stayed silent for long.
The distant echoes of steel clashing against claw, the faint tremor of collapsing stone, the guttural roars of monsters meeting their end, all of it blended into a low, constant hum.
But in that moment, Toji stood in an alcove along Floor 19, away from the main paths, resting against the cool wall, arms crossed, eyes sharp as ever.
His cursed spirit, currently coiled like a shadowy mist within a large silver ring on his finger, twitched once. It had sensed motion beyond the bend.
He didn't move.
Then he saw her.
Lefiya Viridis, battle-scorched, breathing hard, eyes focused.
Her party wasn't far behind, a small mixed-group of middle-tier adventurers running a test formation through Floor 19.
Not the full Loki Familia. Just a scouting support party, likely testing stamina and synergy. And Lefiya... she wasn't in the back anymore.
He watched as she shouted an instruction to a swordswoman beside her, adjusted her own position, and activated her staff.
It wasn't a panicked flail or an uncertain cast, it was fast, calculated.
The angle of her shoulders was precise. Her incantation? Shortened. Her breath? Stable.
The magic circle spun beneath her, elegant as ever, but behind that elegance was something new. Purpose. Control.
Boom!
The spell detonated, catching the monster mid-lunge before it reached the front line. The others reacted quickly, circling around and finishing the last two enemies without needing further aid.
He watched her take a step back, scanning, alert.
She wasn't amazing. Not yet. Her stance was still a touch too open. Her reliance on chanting made her timing predictable. But... she wasn't dead weight.
Not anymore.
"...Hah."
The corner of his mouth tugged upward. It wasn't quite a smile, not really. Just a twitch of some old muscle that hadn't moved in years.
He stepped forward into the open path, drawing the attention of the entire scouting party.
Lefiya looked up, and startled.
"Toji?!"
The swordswoman beside her instinctively raised her blade. "Who—?"
"It's fine!" Lefiya cut in quickly, voice strained, almost panicked. "He's—uh, he's not an enemy!"
Toji just tilted his head slightly. "That your team?"
Lefiya nodded, trying to look composed. "Yes."
"They follow your orders?"
"They listen to reason," she huffed. "Not that it matters to you."
"Didn't trip. Spell landed. No friendly fire." He took a single step closer, looming, tone flat. "Still bad at footwork. You hesitate at cross-angles."
Lefiya flushed. "I—I know! I'm still working on that!"
One of her teammates murmured to another, "Is that the guy who fought the Goliath's side spawn?"
"Looks like him... scary bastard."
Toji ignored them.
"You're not useless anymore," he said bluntly.
Lefiya froze.
He kept walking, brushing past her, the air around him somehow heavier than before. "That's the highest praise you'll get from me."
"...!"
Her heart slammed once against her ribcage. The insult didn't land. Not this time. Because that was Toji Fushiguro's way of saying you've changed.
"You watched me?" she asked, suddenly chasing a step behind.
He didn't answer.
"I mean... you came all the way out here just to see me?"
"Don't flatter yourself, brat. I was just killing time."
She bit back the retort. Instead, she smiled faintly. "Fine. Then I'll just... happen to be around next time you're bored."
He clicked his tongue but said nothing. Behind him, the mist coiled in his cursed ring like it was amused.
They walked in silence for a while, through an empty tunnel toward a rest area deeper into the floor. Then Toji glanced sideways at her, his voice lower than usual.
"You're really something aren't you?"
Lefiya looked up, blinking. "Huh?"
"To be honest, i've never took you seriously at first, i know how kids like you will act under too much pressure. Yet you didn't quit." His gaze flicked forward again.
".... Guess i was really determined right?" She smile a bit, facing him this time.
Toji didn't answer right away. His jaw flexed slightly. Then he muttered:
"... you got potential, just don't slack off or you'll solo floor 20 tomorrow"
Lefiya didn't pry. She could feel it, an old scar buried in his voice.
Instead, she simply matched his stride, walking quietly beside him like a student trying not to break a fragile moment.
For a flicker of time, there was peace between them.
No orders. No screaming. No punishments.
Just two warriors walking through the Dungeon, one shaped by bitterness, the other by hope, each unknowingly stitching together something missing in the other.
Meanwhile...
Back in Orario, Loki twirled a dagger between her fingers, lounging in the Familia lounge with a smirk.
"So, our little elf is going off and getting praise from him, huh?" she drawled, amused.
Aiz sat quietly beside her.
"Think it's dangerous?" she asked after a pause.
Loki tapped the dagger against her lips. "He's dangerous. But not to her."
"You're sure?"
"I'm sure of one thing." Loki's eyes narrowed slightly. "People like him don't stick around unless something makes them stay."
She leaned back, watching a dust mote drift past the sunlight.
"And that something might just be our tsundere little elf."
...
It was after another brutal round of training in the Dungeon outskirts.
Lefiya sat on a large, flat stone, her limbs trembling, skin slick with sweat, and her breath ragged from the unrelenting drills Toji had run her through.
Her staff rested across her knees, and she leaned forward, elbows on thighs, barely keeping upright.
Toji stood a few steps away, casually cleaning blood off a short, curved blade.
It wasn't hers. It wasn't his either.
Just a leftover from one of the monsters he'd butchered while she was resting, because of course he didn't get tired.
"Still standing. Barely," he remarked, giving her a side glance. "Better than last time."
It sounded like an insult, but Lefiya had learned to hear what was underneath.
That was the closest she'd gotten to a compliment in two weeks. She blinked, then gave a shy little smile. "T-Thank you..."
Toji tossed the cloth over his shoulder and walked toward her, pulling something wrapped in paper out of his belt pouch. He held it out without a word.
She stared at the package. "What is it?"
"Meat buns," he said. "You don't eat enough. You're burning more mana than you're taking in. Stupid."
"I—uh—I do eat!"
"You eat flowers," he said flatly. "Like a bunny."
She pouted, but took the package.
The warmth of the food felt divine against her palms.
When she unwrapped it and took a bite, the rich flavor nearly made her cry.
She didn't realize how hungry she was.
Toji crouched in front of her, watching her silently. Not the cold, analytical way he watched her during combat, this was... different.
As she tried to wipe a bit of sauce from her cheek, he scoffed, then leaned in, using his thumb to wipe her mouth clean.
"Messy eater," he muttered.
Her brain short-circuited. "W-Wh-What was that for?! I-I'm not a child!"
"No, just a brat with bad table manners," he replied, standing up again. "Don't eat like that around people unless you want to look pitiful."
She turned red, mouth opening and closing uselessly. "I—! You—! Ugh!"
Toji didn't bother hiding the smirk as he turned away. "Eat. We've got another wave."
"...Another?!" she groaned, nearly dropping her food. "But I just sat down!"
"Then eat faster."
Despite the harshness, she knew this rhythm now.
He always gave her time, whether he admitted it or not.
He pushed her to the brink, but never past it.
He knew exactly where her limits were, and exactly how to make her overcome them.
She chewed quickly, still flustered.
There was a warmth in her chest that hadn't been there before.
It wasn't just exhaustion or hunger.
It was.... comfort. Strange, misplaced comfort from someone who had once scared her.
And yet, now she saw more than a cold killer. There was something else underneath all that brutality.
Something... fatherly.
Toji sat nearby, sharpening one of his weapons with quiet precision. The rhythmic scrape of steel against stone filled the silence.
She glanced at him, then down at the half-eaten bun in her hand. "You know... you're kind of like a dad sometimes."
The sound of sharpening paused for just a second.
Then resumed.
"Don't say weird stuff," he muttered, not looking up.
"I-I'm not! It's just—you wipe my mouth, make me eat... headpat me sometimes..."
"You're projecting."
She puffed her cheeks. "I am not! You're acting like it."
He didn't respond. Just kept sharpening.
What can he say to her? That he abandoned his son to a blindfolded brat?
That he regretted it after his death? And how she annoyingly reminding him of the kid?
...
But the tiniest curve of his lip was there if she looked closely enough.
Maybe it was projection. Maybe he was just humoring her out of boredom.
But maybe.
She looked down, cheeks burning a little brighter.
Maybe he was trying to be the kind of person he never got to be.
Fulfilling the role he failed to do.
And that thought stayed with her long after the training resumed.
<>
The Day After
The next day, Lefiya arrived at the training spot early, before the morning fog had even lifted from the Dungeon's floor.
Her boots crunched over dew-soaked stones, her eyes puffy from lack of sleep, but wide with anticipation.
She wasn't sure why exactly. Maybe it was because she'd gotten a compliment yesterday, even if it was wrapped in sarcasm.
Maybe it was the food. Or maybe, deep down, she looked forward to the company of a man who terrified half of Orario but had started to treat her with an odd, protective sort of familiarity.
Toji was already there, leaning against a tree with his arms crossed, staring blankly into the mist.
"You're late," he said.
She blinked. "I'm... twenty minutes early."
"You're late," he repeated. "To someone who's been here since before first bell."
She frowned. "Did you even sleep?"
"I don't need to," he said, straightening up. "Sleep's for people who don't need to watch their backs."
There it was again, that wall of steel he kept around himself.
The constant readiness, the hardened reflexes, the tension in his posture even when he looked relaxed.
She'd already pick up on it quite much by now. That paranoid edge. That assassin's instinct. He wasn't just training her to cast faster or dodge quicker. He was teaching her how to survive.
"Warm-up. Thirty squats. Then we'll move to reaction drills."
She groaned, setting down her staff. "You love making me suffer, don't you?"
He gave her a blank look. "I'm teaching you how not to die. If I loved suffering, I'd let you train yourself."
"That's so cruel!"
"Cruel works. Comfort doesn't."
And yet, minutes later, when she tripped during a forward roll and smacked her shoulder against the dirt, he didn't scold her.
He crouched beside her, clicked his tongue, and gently pressed two fingers against her collarbone.
"It's not broken," he muttered. "But you should stop flailing like a dying bird."
"That's just how I roll!"
"You roll like a corpse being thrown down stairs."
She hissed. "That doesn't even make sense!"
He didn't reply. He simply reached into his pouch and pulled out a small balm jar. Without asking, he unscrewed the lid, scooped some, and gently rubbed it onto her shoulder.
"W-Wait—! I-I can do it myself!"
"You'll mess it up. Sit still."
His hands were rough, scarred, nothing like the soft grace of Riveria or the gentle touch of Aiz when tending wounds.
But somehow, it didn't hurt. In fact, it felt secure. Safe.
She froze, face beet red as his fingers worked the balm into her skin.
"This'll help with bruising," he said simply. "And stop the stiffness. If you're going to cast on the fly, your whole body needs to move with your spell."
She nodded quickly, unable to speak. Her heart was hammering.
When he was done, he reached out, lightly flicked her forehead, and stood.
"Quit blushing. You're not in love."
"I-I wasn't thinking that!!"
"Sure. As expected"
"I wasn't!!"
He chuckled. Actually chuckled. The sound was so rare, it left her speechless.
Later That Day
After training, they returned aboveground. As they walked through the winding paths of the city's outskirts, Toji handed her a skewer of grilled meat.
"You've earned it," he said. "For not dying."
"You know, most people say 'good job' or something encouraging..."
He shrugged. "This is encouraging. I only feed the ones worth feeding."
She puffed her cheeks but took a big bite. "Hmph. I guess that's your weird way of being nice."
"Don't get used to it."
And yet, as they walked side by side, she caught the subtle ways he adjusted his pace to match hers.
How he kept to the side facing the road. How his eyes constantly flicked to rooftops, windows, alleyways. Ever watchful. Ever guarded.
At one point, she stumbled slightly on a loose stone, and his hand shot out, catching her elbow instantly.
Not a word. Just a quick touch, a steadying grip. Then he let go like it hadn't happened.
She looked up at him, eyes wide. "You're always... watching, aren't you?"
He didn't answer right away. Then, in a rare moment of openness, he said quietly, "I missed something once. Something important. Never again."
She didn't ask what. Didn't need to.
Instead, she whispered, "You're really good at this. Being a teacher."
He gave her a sideways glance. "I'm not your teacher."
"Then what are you?"
A pause. "Just a guy making sure one more toddler doesn't die."
It should've felt cold.
But somehow, it felt warm.
That Night – Loki Familia Dorms
Back at the Loki Familia dorms, Lefiya sat in her room, brushing her hair with shaky hands.
Her mind kept circling back to the way Toji had fed her, wiped her mouth, held her shoulder, flicked her forehead.
The way he spoke to her, harsh but aware. The way he treated her, not like a tool, or a mage, or even a burden, but like a person.
Like someone who mattered.
She shook her head furiously, cheeks flushing.
"I-It's not like I l-like him or anything," she muttered aloud. "He's mean and scary and... and rude, and..."
But her smile betrayed her.