The streets of Orario buzzed with the low hum of midday life. Vendors barked about fresh fruits, skewered meats, and medicinal brews.
Adventurers wandered in loose groups, blades slung over their backs, armor clinking like wind chimes in motion.
Toji walked among them like a ghost who'd forgotten how to haunt.
He didn't wear his coat today. Left it back in the crumbling room he called his base of operations.
Just a black tunic, sleeves rolled up, his arms marked with faint scars. The morning sun cast long shadows down his jawline.
Some women looked. A few men too. He didn't notice. Or maybe he didn't care.
He held a meat skewer in one hand, purchased without haggling, which was already out of character, and walked with a slow, easy stride that didn't match the tension resting under his skin.
Toji had killed a dragon two days ago.
He'd fought the Sword Princess in a bout that cracked the walls of the Dungeon.
He'd watched her smile, not the painted ones the Hostess staff wore, not the greedy grin of a god, but something small and real.
And now he was here, chewing grilled beef and watching a group of kids chase a dog through a plaza.
It felt... wrong.
He shouldn't be here.
He should be killing something.
He should be in the Dungeon, carving his coin out of bone and ichor.
But here he was, under a sky too blue, walking streets too clean, thinking too much.
He turned a corner and found himself in front of a betting den.
Familiar place. Second district. Low-end, but the odds were real and the money honest, or at least not entirely rigged.
A crowd had already gathered near the ring out back, jeering over some knife-eared elf and a brawler with a face like cracked pavement.
Toji watched from across the street. His hand moved without thinking, reaching into his pocket.
He had coin.
More than usual.
The job yesterday paid better than it should've. Even after splitting a minor cut with that girl, Lili, the one with the too-large pack and eyes like starving rats, he'd come out ahead.
He could bet on one of them.
He always won, it's easy to tell who's stronger.
But he didn't move.
He watched, instead. Let the shouting wash over him. Watched fists fly and blood smear dirt. Watched the crowd scream like animals.
It used to be home.
Now?
It looked small.
Too loud. Too desperate.
He turned his back on the ring before the first round ended.
He found a bench under a crooked tree in South Main, sat down, and bit into the last chunk of his skewer.
A toothpick of charred meat and splintered wood now. He flicked it away, letting the breeze carry it down a drain.
He leaned back.
Let the sun hit his face.
And thought, again, about Gojo.
That man's voice still clung to him, like smoke after fire. A reminder of death. Of failure. Of his arrogant for underestimate him, even though his instinct tell him to higher his guard.
Something is off...
Toji scoffed under his breath. "I don't need a blindfolded brat in my head."
But he didn't deny it.
Didn't deny that something changed.
He didn't take the job in the Dungeon today.
He didn't kill anything.
And the itch, the one that used to crawl under his skin when he wasn't shedding blood, it wasn't there.
Just a strange quiet.
That scared him more than the monsters.
He got up eventually. Wandered toward Northwest. The coffee shop wasn't far.
He wasn't hungry nor sleepy, not really. Maybe he just want to check it out.
The way the walls smelled like spice and grilled meat. The way people looked normal inside it, even if they were murderers outside.
He stepped through the door and felt the shift in air, warm, welcoming, and just a little chaotic.
"Oi! Tall, dark, and broody!"
Syr's voice hit him like a pillow to the face. She was already by the counter, balancing a tray with one hand and waving with the other.
He gave a lazy nod.
"Sheesh. Still no smile?"
"I'm not here to impress, you work here?" he said, sliding into a corner seat.
"Yeah, it's near Hostess of Fertility so i guess it's better to try something else" Syr muttered, setting a glass of something cold in front of him. "You've got a certain charm. The brooding type always does."
Toji raised a brow. "Didn't take you for a liar."
"Didn't take you for someone who go for coffee."
He said nothing.
Syr gave him a knowing look and walked off.
He nursed the drink. Some kind of fruit wine instead of normal coffee. Not bad. Not strong enough to dull anything, though. He didn't drink to forget. Never had. Not since...
He shook the thought off.
The place slowly filled with lunch-goers. He saw a few familiar faces, adventurers, merchants, even a Guild scribe. Look like this place is pretty famous too.
One or two glanced his way and then looked quickly elsewhere.
He'd earned a reputation already.
Good or bad.
Let them wonder what he was.
Let them keep their distance.
Then the chair across from him scraped.
"Mind if I sit?"
It was Ryuu.
Toji tilted his head, surprised, but said nothing.
The elf sat anyway.
They didn't talk. Not at first. She drank tea, he sipped wine, and for a while, the silence between them felt like shared exile.
"You're quieter than usual," she finally said.
"You keep tabs on me?"
"I keep tabs on everyone who might start a fight in my workplace."
Toji chuckled. A dry sound, but not unfriendly. "I'm on vacation."
Ryuu studied him. Her gaze, piercing but not unkind, lingered on the fading bruise along his jaw, the thin healing cut on his knuckle.
"Some vacation."
He shrugged.
"Something's on your mind."
"I'm always thinking."
She raised a brow. "And yet you never look it."
He gave her a half-smile. The kind that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Don't worry, I'm not planning to burn the place down."
"That's not what I meant."
He paused.
Looked at her again. Really looked.
She wasn't prying.
Just... seeing.
That was worse, somehow.
"I've been alive a long time," he said after a minute. "But I haven't really lived much of it."
Ryuu didn't answer. Just sipped her tea.
Toji leaned back, the chair creaking under his weight. "You ever get a second chance, and wonder if maybe you should do it different?"
A pause.
Then: "I did."
Toji blinked. "Yeah?"
"I lost everything. My family, my home. I became something I hated. Then I started again."
He nodded slowly.
"I'm still not sure who i am now"
She admitted.
"....Me too..." She admitted.
"Copying me now huh? Guess that make two of us..."
They sat there a while longer.
No more words.
When she left, she gave a slight nod. Toji returned it.
After his second drink, he paid and walked out, the sky beginning to darken with the faintest hue of evening.
He wandered without aim.
Watched the light bend across the stone streets. Watched a cat leap across a roof. Watched a child drop a copper coin and burst into tears, only to laugh when a stranger gave it back.
He stopped in front of a fountain.
Tossed a coin in.
Why? That coin is still money, and he do love money....
Honestly... he didn't know.
Maybe because it felt like something a living person did.
Maybe because he hoped something, or someone, was listening.
Then he walked on, hands in his pockets, coat fluttering behind him like the shadow of a man trying to become something else.
Something better? Something worse?
Or maybe just something... other.
He didn't know yet.
But for the first time in a long while, he wanted to find out.
Will he stay the same as before?
Or will he changed into something else.
Something.....
Different.
Good or bad.
Better or worse.
...
He kept walking.
South of the coliseum, the avenues widened into old marketplaces. Colorful awnings stretched between buildings like sails caught in slow wind.
Shouts in half a dozen tongues drifted over the cobbles, human, elf, dwarf, and the musical lilt of animal people. Some barked coin offers. Others whispered secrets behind hands and veils.
Toji moved like smoke, seen but untouched. People gave him a wide berth, not because they recognized him, but because something in his presence suggested trouble.
Not the loud, flailing kind. The quiet, permanent kind.
He stopped by a stand where a prum with a heavy brow was selling steaming buns from a metal basket.
He eyed Toji warily as he approached, perhaps already sizing up whether this man would pay or threaten.
Toji flipped a coin lazily toward the counter.
"Hot," he muttered, taking one of the buns and tearing off a piece with his teeth.
It burned the roof of his mouth. He didn't flinch.
He ate in silence, chewing slowly, watching people more than the food. A group of kids were arguing over a carved wooden dagger.
A pair of adventurers, greenhorns, still in mismatched armor, bickered over a damaged map. A tired-looking woman cradled a sleeping infant while shouting over vegetable prices.
Life moved. Whether he noticed or not.
He used to ignore it.
Used to scoff at it.
But now...
His fingers slowed, bun half-eaten.
Something about the woman and child tugged at something deep and distant in his chest. A faint echo. The soft click of heels. The smell of spring rain.
His throat tightened, reflex more than memory.
Toji shook it off, shoved the rest of the bun into his mouth, and moved.
An hour later, he found himself standing in front of a betting house. Old place. No sign, no guards, just a faded green curtain and the smell of bad decisions leaking through the walls.
He used to love it here.
The weight of coin between fingers. The high of risk. The slow spiral of anticipation watching the wheels turn or the monsters clash or the dice roll.
He used to sit at the back, drink in hand, making quiet wagers no one saw coming. Watching everyone else squirm when they lost. And smiling, just a little, when he didn't.
He stepped inside.
The air was thick, smoke, grease, desperation. A few familiar faces glanced his way. Some tensed. Others offered short nods. No one greeted him.
He drifted to a seat near the monster match boards, where magical screens displayed lower-level Dungeon captures, a Goliath fight, two Killer Ants cornering a party, a troll in the upper floors surrounded by flames.
A clerk passed by. "You placing?"
Toji stared at the screen a long moment. A younger adventurer with silver hair and a heavy axe was charging a drake far above his weight class.
"Five hundred on the kid," Toji said.
The clerk blinked. "He's the underdog."
"I know."
The man scribbled the bet and moved on.
Toji leaned back, arms over the chair's backrest, watching.
But his eyes kept drifting.
Not to the fight, but to the people around him. The sweating old dwarf clutching his betting slip like it was a lifeline.
The pallid elf girl murmuring prayers before each monster clash. The human man sitting alone, staring at the screen without seeing it.
He could've been any of them.
He still could be.
His fingers twitched, reaching for the small coin pouch he kept hidden under his coat. He rolled a coin between his fingers.
But it didn't feel right.
Not anymore.
Not the same.
He hated it.
The game used to thrill him, but it changed.
Especially the risk. Losing meant nothing when you had no one to lose for.
The fight ended. The silver-haired kid lost. The drake bit clean through his leg and the healers scrambled to pull him out.
The crowd groaned. Someone threw a bottle.
Toji stood.
The clerk raised a brow. "Pulling out?"
"No fun when you know the outcome," Toji said.
He left before the man could ask what he meant.
The sky was shifting into late afternoon by the time he reached the western edge of Orario.
The streets here were calmer, dotted with artisan shops and tea houses.
The kind of place people who didn't have to bleed for coin came to relax. He didn't belong. Never had.
But it was quiet.
And for now, that was enough.
He walked past a bakery, the smell of fresh bread and cinnamon wafting out.
His stomach reminded him he'd only eaten a skewer and a bun.
He paused.
The girl at the counter inside had red hair.
Not the same shade.
Not the same style.
But for a second, it made him think of her.
He didn't go in.
Didn't trust what his mind might do.
Instead, he turned back toward the Main Street. Toward the clamor and heat and smell of sweat and ale.
Toward the Hostess of Fertility.
The pub was already half-full when he arrived.
Mia glanced up from behind the bar. Her eyes narrowed.
"You're early."
"Time's a suggestion," Toji replied, sliding onto a stool.
"You planning to pay this time?"
He pulled a pouch from his coat and tossed it on the bar. "Tavern rates. Not inflated ones."
She snorted but took it.
Runoa waved at him from across the room, setting down plates. Chole offered a nod from behind a tray of drinks, and Anya beamed and shouted something about "cool murder guy" before Mia cuffed her on the ear.
Toji chuckled.
It was... strange. Being welcomed anywhere.
He nursed a drink. Didn't get drunk. Didn't feel like it.
Mia brought him a plate, meat, bread, roasted vegetables.
"You're eating real food. That's new," she said.
He poked at the carrots. "Trying something new."
"World ending?"
"Maybe."
She grunted and moved on.
Toji sat there for a while, eating, drinking slowly, listening. Watching.
It was loud.
Messy.
Alive.
He felt out of place.
But not unwelcome.
And for him, that was rare.
When he finally stepped out, the sky had gone dark, stars barely peeking through the city's haze.
He stood outside the Hostess a long moment, coat fluttering slightly in the breeze.
He didn't know what he was doing anymore.
Didn't know why he kept hesitating.
Why things tasted different. Why fights didn't feel as final. Why he stopped himself at the betting table.
He didn't want to change.
But some part of him already had.
And maybe the worst part wasn't that it happened.
It was that he didn't hate it.
Not completely.
Toji exhaled slowly and turned toward the darker streets again, hands in his pockets, eyes up toward the stars.
Just walking.
Letting the night take him somewhere.
Anywhere.