The twelfth floor was noisy that day.
Not with battle. Not with footsteps.
But with the murmuring tension that clung to the air, like the Dungeon itself was whispering something, some foreboding message passed between stones, moss, and the distant groans of shifting walls.
Toji moved like a shadow through the corridors.
There was no cloak today. Just his usual dark clothes, black sleeves rolled halfway to the elbow, the familiar weight of cursed tools resting against his waist.
He liked the feel of them, no enchantments, no magic, no lies. Just steel and cursed energy. Things that worked when you needed them to.
Things that killed without a whisper of divine power.
A monster died behind him with a dull thump. A thick-bodied Taurus Bull, too slow to scream.
He wiped his blade once on its fur, then sheathed it, turning without a glance.
He was in no hurry.
This hunt was routine, something done not for pleasure, not even out of habit, just necessity.
Enough valis to keep the quiet days going, enough distraction to keep his mind from digging too deep.
And then, from the edge of a corridor, came the hurried shuffle of small footsteps.
Toji didn't stop. Not at first.
Then he caught the scent, blood, old and fresh, and the wheeze of a girl trying to breathe through cracked ribs.
She stumbled around the corner and froze.
A small figure in a filthy cloak, too big for her frame. Her face was pale beneath the dirt. Her eyes wide. And her hand pressed against her side, blood seeping between her fingers.
"...You," she gasped.
He tilted his head.
It took him a second to recognize her. The supporter. The one Eina forced on him days ago. The one who tried to trick him into giving up his drops. Liliruca Arde.
She looked worse than he remembered.
Not the calculated merchant hiding under false humility, just a terrified kid who'd run too deep into hell and didn't know how to crawl back.
She staggered forward, then collapsed at his feet.
Toji didn't move.
Her breath came in short, sharp bursts. "H-help him..."
He crouched, eyeing her. "Help who."
"Th-the white-haired boy! Bell...! He's! he's fighting a Minotaur! he's going to die!"
Toji's eyes narrowed.
"Minotaur?"
She nodded frantically. "I—I tried to stop him, b-but it caught us. I ran—I was going to get the Loki Familia, but—please—please, he's still alive—I think—I don't know—I didn't look—just—!"
Toji stood.
He didn't say a word.
Lili clutched his ankle. "Please... I—I know I lied to you. I know I don't deserve anything—but he's different. He—he doesn't treat me like—like that...."
Toji looked down at her hand. It was shaking. Pathetic. Fragile. Human.
He didn't answer.
He turned and began walking.
Lili watched him go, chest still heaving, then slumped back against the wall. She'd done all she could. Whether it meant anything...
She didn't know.
...
Toji found the Minotaur fast.
He followed the sound.
Not just the heavy, panting roar of a bull-beast, but the whip-sharp ring of steel, the cry of a blade deflecting against thick hide, and the staggered, ragged gasps of a young boy fighting to stay alive.
The corridor opened up into a collapsed chamber, rubble strewn across the edges. Sunlight filtered through a thin gap in the ceiling, casting a spotlight over the scene.
And in that light, Bell.
Wounded. His chest rising and falling too fast. His armor slashed to ribbons. His sword, a thin dagger, still intact.
But he stood.
Blood streaked one cheek, and his arms trembled from fatigue. But his legs held him up.
The Minotaur bellowed, massive and wild, a wound already torn into its side. Not deep. Not fatal. But enough to enrage it.
Toji stepped into the chamber.
Bell didn't notice. His eyes were locked on the beast, terror and determination warring behind them.
Toji's hand was already on the hilt of his blade.
He would end it in a single breath.
A flick of the wrist, and the Minotaur would die.
Bell wouldn't even see it coming.
But then—
"STOP!!"
The voice cracked, not with strength, but desperation.
Toji paused.
Bell turned his head, eyes wide. "Don't... interfere..."
His voice was barely audible.
Toji blinked once. Slowly. It's clear what the kid is trying to do, he want to see if he really want that.
Bell stared at him. There was no fear in his eyes now. Just something sharp. Something that hadn't been there before.
Conviction.
"I want to do it," Bell said, throat raw. "I have to do it..."
Toji didn't respond.
His blade stayed in its sheath.
The Minotaur lunged forward.
Bell moved too.
Toji didn't step in.
Not when the beast struck. Not when Bell was thrown against the wall. Not even when blood sprayed across the stones like petals on a storm wind.
He watched.
And from the other side of the chamber, more arrived.
Aiz. Bete. Tiona. Loki Familia.
They saw Bell.
They saw the Minotaur.
Aiz stepped forward instinctively.
But Toji was already there.
He didn't say anything. Just turned his head, gaze locking with hers.
And shook it once.
Aiz hesitated.
Toji looked back toward Bell.
The boy stood again.
He was losing blood. He couldn't lift his arms properly. He had no plan. No backup. No reason to believe he would survive.
But still, he fought.
And something about that made Toji pause.
Because he saw himself in that stubborn, broken, reckless charge.
Saw the boy. Not the assassin. Not the monster.
I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU ALL!
Just the kid who crawled out of Tokyo's slums and threw himself at fate with bloodied fists.
The Minotaur raised its arm.
Bell didn't dodge.
He leaped.
The dagger tore upward. Fire erupt, burning everything left of that monster's upper body.
And when the beast fell, it was with a roar that shook the chamber to its bones.
Silence followed.
Toji didn't clap.
Didn't smile.
But he didn't look away.
He watched Bell stagger.
Watched Aiz run forward and catch him before he hit the ground.
Watched the moment that boy changed, not in strength, but in spirit.
And Toji thought...
Maybe that matters.
He turned before anyone could speak to him and left the way he came.
...
The Dungeon didn't feel quiet anymore.
There was noise now.
Footsteps. Voices. Movement in the walls. Like the place was finally waking up.
Toji didn't care.
He moved through it like a ghost, bloodied blade in hand, killing as he went.
But for the first time in a long while, he wasn't doing it just for money.
Not just for survival.
Something small flickered in his chest.
He didn't like it.
Didn't want it.
But it was there all the same.
Hope.
Not for himself.
But for a boy with white hair and fire in his bones.
A boy too stupid to give up.
And maybe that was enough.
...
When he finally emerged into the sun, his coat torn and soaked in black blood, the air aboveground felt too bright.
Too clean.
He walked through the marketplace in South Main without speaking, passing vendors and adventurers and gods without a glance.
Then he stopped.
Smelled something.
Meat skewers, grilled over open flame.
He bought one.
Then another.
People parted around him instinctively, sensing something sharp in the way he carried himself.
He passed a betting house, stopped outside its door.
His hand hovered over the curtain.
Old habits rose to the surface like oil on water.
He used to spend hours in places like this. Before. Before the job with the Star Plasma Vessel. Before Gojo Satoru split him in half.
Before his second life.
His fingers twitched.
He could walk in.
Throw some coin. Win big. Lose more.
Start the spiral again.
Toji stared at the curtain.
Then lowered his hand.
And walked away.
The sun warmed his back.
He didn't smile.
Didn't look satisfied.
But he wasn't angry either.
Just confused.
Like his body remembered something his mind didn't want anymore.
He passed the Hostess of Fertility.
He didn't plan to stop.
But a familiar voice called from inside.
"Sneakin' by without a visit? Rude!"
Syr's head popped out from behind the door, hair bouncing.
Toji sighed.
He turned, poked his head in.
The tavern was busy. Music. Laughter. Food. The scent of ale and roasted lamb.
Mia waved him toward the bar with a grunt.
He sat.
Ordered nothing.
Syr brought him a plate anyway.
He ate in silence.
The warmth of the place was... unsettling.
Too alive.
But he didn't leave.
Not right away.
And when he did, Syr handed him a small wrapped bundle of bread.
"For the road," she said.
Toji looked at it.
Then at her.
Didn't thank her.
But he took it.
And stepped back into the sun.
Maybe he was changing.
Maybe not.
Either way....
He still alive.
...
Meanwhile...
The air in the aftermath of the Minotaur's fall was thick with blood and disbelief.
Bell lay unconscious in Aiz's arms, his body ragged and trembling, but alive.
The sword still clutched loosely in his hand had snapped clean in two, the broken hilt dangling from pale fingers that refused to let go even in sleep.
Aiz held him without a word.
The others stood nearby, stunned into silence.
Tiona was the first to speak. "Did... that actually just happen?"
Her voice was soft, almost childlike in its bewilderment.
She took a step forward, peering over the remains of the Minotaur like it might get up again, like maybe they'd all imagined what just happened.
"Kid killed it" Bete muttered behind her. He spat onto the stones. "White-haired rookie. That shrimp actually did it."
Tione raised an eyebrow. "The same rookie who ran screaming from a minotaur just a month ago?"
Bete gave a noncommittal grunt. "Guess he ain't the same anymore."
Finn walked forward, expression unreadable. He crouched by the corpse, touching the blackened edge of the wound Bell had dealt. It wasn't clean. Wasn't efficient. But it was fatal.
"Impossible" he murmured. "A Level One adventurer... shouldn't have been able to."
Riveria stood behind him, arms crossed. "Not unless his stats are off the charts. Or he's had some divine luck."
"No," Aiz said suddenly.
They all turned.
She looked down at Bell. Her arms tightened around him just slightly.
"He trained. He got stronger."
Finn studied her for a long second.
"You've been watching him?"
Aiz nodded. "I helped him train."
That earned a few curious looks. Bete scoffed.
"So that's why you were always sneaking off lately. Training the little rabbit."
"It wasn't sneaking," Aiz replied plainly.
But even then, her tone held a note of distraction. Her eyes kept drifting, not just to Bell, but to the corridor where the black-clad man had stood.
Toji Fushiguro.
Finn rose to his feet slowly. "What about him?"
He didn't need to elaborate. Everyone knew who he meant.
The man who stood between them and the Minotaur. The man who said nothing, but with a glance made even Aiz hesitate.
"Why was he here?" Riveria asked. "This wasn't his fight."
"No idea," Bete growled. "He's been wandering the lower floors a lot lately. Always alone. No party, no Familia. Just that damn smug face and a bunch of cursed weapons."
"I heard he was with Hecate" Tione said. "Sort of. Well... i think they both treat it like a deal, she give him what he need to access the dungeon, i think she just find him interesting"
"Sort of?" Tiona echoed. "How does that even work?"
"She doesn't treat him like a Familia member. More like... a mercenary she just lets do whatever."
Finn looked thoughtful. "He stopped us from interfering."
A silence fell again.
"He could've killed that monster, he killed one bare-handed before" Riveria said. "He moved like he was about to draw. Then stopped when Bell shouted."
"That's what I don't get," Bete said, folding his arms. "Since when does that bastard listen to anyone?"
Aiz remained quiet.
Finn turned to her again. "Aiz. You know him?"
A pause.
"I've seen him fight," she said. "In town. At the tavern. He's strong."
Tiona tilted her head. "You seemed like you... recognized him."
Aiz didn't answer immediately.
"I don't know him," she said finally. "But... when he fights... there's something..."
She trailed off.
Bete barked a bitter laugh. "What, he got you all hot and bothered too?"
"No," Aiz said flatly. "He's dangerous. That's all."
Riveria narrowed her eyes. "He was watching Bell. Not the monster. Like he was testing him."
"Or judging," Finn added. "Either way, he didn't step in after Bell insisted. That tells me something."
"Yeah," Tiona said slowly. "He respected it."
That thought hung there.
Toji Fushiguro, mercenary, loner, killer, respecting the guts of a Level One boy trying to kill something five times his size.
That wasn't the kind of thing you'd expect from someone with his reputation.
"I don't like it," Bete muttered. "The guy creeps me out. He's not like anyone else in this damn city."
"That's why I do like him," Tione said with a grin. "He doesn't kiss up to gods or grovel at the Guild's feet. He's real."
"He's hiding something," Riveria said.
Aiz said nothing.
But her thoughts lingered.
She remembered the exact moment Toji stepped between her and the chamber.
He hadn't said a word. Hadn't threatened. Just looked at her. Like she was a child holding a wooden sword.
It wasn't cruelty. Or arrogance.
It was indifference.
Like whether they existed or not didn't matter to him.
That made her curious. Made her uneasy.
Because no one looked at her like that, not after reaching Level Six. Not even gods.
But he had.
And not just her.
He looked at the world like it was something distant, like he didn't quite belong to it anymore.
...
Later that evening, back at their temporary base in the upper floors, Finn summoned Aiz and Riveria to his quarters.
He sat at a small desk, papers strewn across it, Guild reports, Dungeon patterns, and now, notes on Bell Cranel.
"They're revising his stats," he said quietly. "Eina from the Guild sent word. After today... he may Level up."
"Already?" Riveria asked, surprised.
"He's grown fast. Faster than almost anyone I've seen."
"Driven by something," Aiz murmured.
Finn tapped the desk once. "That boy... and Toji. They're different. But somehow, I think their paths are going to cross again."
Riveria frowned. "Are you planning something?"
"Not yet," Finn said. "But I want eyes on both. For now."
He looked to Aiz.
"Watch him."
She didn't ask who he meant.
And she didn't refuse.
She nodded once, silent as ever.
Then turned and walked into the dark.
Because even if she didn't understand Toji Fushiguro...
She wanted to.