Toji looked at the two empty coffee cups—his and Enid's—sitting quietly on the table, the faint rings of coffee still warm against the porcelain. He picked them up without a word and set them in the small sink. The dorm was silent now, sunlight leaking through the curtains, cutting across the room in thin golden lines.
He walked to the closet and slid the door open. The scent of detergent and old wood mixed faintly in the air. Pulling out the neatly folded Nevermore uniform, he placed it on the bed with care. His gaze lingered on it for a moment—its crisp lines, the emblem stitched into the fabric—a reminder that he was still playing a role in a place that never stopped watching.
The bathroom mirror fogged up as he stepped under the hot water. Steam filled the air, carrying away the weight of sleep and old memories. His muscles eased, though the faint marks of past battles remained carved into his skin like quiet stories. When he stepped out, water still tracing down his shoulders, he reached for the towel and dried himself, slow and methodical.
He moved to the small shelf beside the sink, eyes scanning the collection of colognes. Each scent held a memory, a mood, a different version of himself. After a pause, he picked LV Imagination. The first spray filled the air with something sharp and clean, a whisper of citrus and amber. It lingered on his skin, grounding him in the present.
Then came the watch—black, polished, and exact. He strapped it on, the leather cool against his wrist, the ticking sound faint but steady. It fit perfectly, like something that belonged only to him.
He glanced toward the bed where the uniform waited, then toward the window where Nevermore stretched out beyond the glass—calm, distant, and full of noise he hadn't yet faced. His reflection in the mirror looked almost foreign: collected, sharp, unreadable.
The clock read nine sharp. Toji buttoned up his uniform jacket, brushed a hand through his still-damp hair, and stepped into the corridor. The marble floors of Nevermore gleamed under filtered sunlight, its gothic arches echoing faint footsteps and laughter—too calm for the storm that usually followed him.
When he reached Thornhill's classroom, the air smelled faintly of wet soil and pollen. Thornhill stood by the board, speaking softly about the mating patterns of exotic flowers—her voice smooth, like she was trying to keep the room's chaos at bay through sheer calm.
Toji's eyes swept the class. Enid sat near the middle, flanked by her usual friends, but the sparkle that usually radiated from her was gone. They all looked uneasy, like they'd been caught up in something they didn't even understand.
At the front, sunlight draped itself across Wednesday's desk. The light made her look almost ethereal—sharp, composed, unreachable. She was jotting notes, every motion deliberate, yet Toji knew she'd already memorized everything Thornhill said.
Bianca lounged in the corner, her smirk curved like a blade. Her eyes flicked toward him, slow and venomous, a predator savoring the hunt.
She needed a good spanking and she will get it....Soon
And then there was Ajax—slouched in his seat beside Xavier. His shoulders hung low, his eyes dull, face shadowed with the kind of quiet despair that didn't come from pain but from shame. His hair was a mess, his usual grin absent. The boy looked like someone who had lost a fight he didn't even know he was in.
Toji sighed quietly and moved down the aisle. When he reached Wednesday's seat, she looked up at him. For a moment, no one spoke. Her expression was unreadable—equal parts judgment and curiosity. Then, with a slight movement, she shifted her notebook and made space for him.
He sat down beside her. The room carried on—Thornhill lecturing, pens scratching, whispers weaving between desks—but for a few seconds, the world around them dimmed. It was just Toji and Wednesday, two storms sitting side by side, both pretending the other wasn't there.
---
Approximately 10 Minutes later
Thornhill's voice filled the classroom like soft wind through leaves, explaining the anatomy of orchids and their strange resilience. Toji sat still, half listening, half lost. The faint floral scent in the room mixed oddly with the faint trace of his cologne, sharp yet distant—like steel wrapped in silk.
Wednesday sat beside him, pen still against her page. Her eyes shifted from the lecture to him, studying his silence. "You mentioned someone before," she said quietly, her tone even but probing. "Shoko. Who is she?"
Toji didn't answer right away. His fingers drummed once against the table before going still. His gaze stayed fixed on the board, as though Thornhill's chalk mattered more than the weight in her question.
"Keep her out of your deciphering, Addams," he said finally, voice level but clipped, like a door closing.
Wednesday tilted her head slightly. "So she's important," she said, calm as ever, though her words carried an edge of curiosity she couldn't hide.
Toji sighed through his nose. "You don't listen, do you?"
"I listen to everything," she replied. "It's what separates me from everyone else."
He turned to her then, just a fraction—enough for her to catch the glint in his eyes. It wasn't anger. It was warning. "That curiosity will get you killed one day."
Wednesday's lips curved faintly, not quite a smile. "Then I'll at least die informed."
Toji looked at her for a moment longer, the corner of his mouth twitching upward before flattening again. "You really are something else," he murmured, almost to himself.
She dipped her pen back into the ink bottle. "So I've been told."
Wednesday's tone was calm but pointed as she turned slightly toward him. "You once said she and I would get along well," she said. "So why hide her name now?"
Toji finally turned to her, eyes unreadable. "You would've liked her," he said after a pause. "Shoko saw people for what they were, not what the world told them to be. Sharp. Quiet. The kind who spoke only when words had purpose." His voice dropped, low and distant. "But she's gone now. So, keep her memory where it belongs—in peace."
Silence settled between them again. Thornhill spoke in the background about how certain plants could thrive in poisoned soil. Wednesday caught the metaphor first; Toji didn't miss it either.
He leaned forward slightly, voice low, calm, deliberate. "Everyone has ghosts, Addams. Some of us just learned to live with them."
Wednesday's eyes narrowed slightly, analyzing each word. "You talk as if they're still here," she said softly.
"They are," he said, not looking at her. "They don't hurt. They haunt. There's a difference."
For a brief moment, Wednesday's pen paused mid-sentence. Her gaze lingered on him—his composure, the silence that didn't quite feel peaceful. The air between them shifted, quieter, heavier.
Then Thornhill clapped her hands. "Alright, class dismissed!"
Chairs scraped. Conversations started up. But Toji stayed still for a second longer before rising. Wednesday didn't move either.
As he walked past her, she said under her breath, "One day, you'll tell me about her."
He paused, glanced over his shoulder, eyes unreadable. "Maybe," he said, "when ghosts stop following me."
And just like that, he was gone, leaving behind a quiet scent of steel and imagination—and a girl who'd just found her next obsession.
Truly his Rizz was unmatched throughout heaven and hell
---
So it's a harem and l am adding Wendigo but it only be added after Toji tragic backstory so you understand them.Or at least that is my plan we see what happen regardless.
Drop some stones Mothersucker