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Jun 27

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐄𝐎𝐏𝐋𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐘𝐎𝐑𝐊 𝐕 𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈 𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎

after getting back home from serving in the marine corps, toji hopes to return to a normal life with his family where he’s mowing the lawn at ten am, having dinners and listening to his kids scream and giggle on the playground. not having to bury them after a trip goes wrong.

CASE 01: THE PUNISHER

PAIRING: punisher! toji fushiguro x defense attorney! fem reader

CONTENT WARNING: 18+ content, MDNI. angst. neglect from the zen’in clan/family trauma. mentions of murder and war. family loss. follows some of the canon lore. mentions of sleeping around. pretty much toji backstory.

NOTE: posting this before colombia wins tonight 😛 in all seriousness, this project’s so near and dear to me and i hope you all enjoy the read <3 a big special kiss on the forehead to @suguruss1ut and @sextier for listening to me talk about this/proofreading it MWAH

what is the value of human life?

some argue that value lies within how much an individual brings to a society, assessing what the cost would be of removing them as an asset. others say that every human has the same value as the person standing next to them simply for being a creature capable of cognitive thought and complex language.

and if you were to ask someone in the black market, they’d give a definite price on the overall health and sustainability of each organ. a heart for a million. a liver for half and some change. an eye for 1.5 grand. the value of a statistical life holds a life at the value of seven through ten million when analyzing risk and benefits of safety regulations.

nevertheless, toji zen’in never thought of his life having much value. he’s been an inconvenience since the day he was birthed onto this earth.

december 31st.

the zen’in clan never hesitated to go out with the food they set out for ōmisoka, large steel tokikoshi soba pots prepared almost two weeks in advance to symbolize the long, fruitful lives they wished to pursue with the coming of the new year. the temple was cleaned to perfection from top to bottom, each surface shimmering clean and purified before the dinner began at 11:00 pm exactly.

brass bells would be polished and wiped down to perfection, gleaming underneath the pale moonlight. they're tested months before december comes, assuring that they're only the best quality money can buy.

the first contractions happen at exactly 7:00 pm, his mother wishing he'd at least wait another day before he comes out. it starts off as a light cramp, something that could easily be dismissed under the guise of being a stomachache. but still, she does everything in her power to prolong his birth—from taking an hour long warm bath in hopes that her muscles would relax and the contractions would come to a stop to gulping down glass after glass of water.

none of these methods work.

streets are shut down in anticipation of the crowds coming from all over to count down the new year in shibuya, making traffic at this hour nearly impossible. while his parents should be at home, cleansing themselves in anticipation of the new year coming, they find themselves stuck at the same red light for nearly twenty minutes before moving up an inch.

his mother's nails dig into the leather of the car, pained groans leaving her lips with each wave that racked her body. the contractions were much quicker, much more often and much more intense. his father tried, really did try to hurry, honking at others, slinking into empty gaps people forgot to fill, all while whispering empty reassurances they'd be at the hospital soon.

they enter the hospital at around 10:15 pm, finding the emergency room full of people sitting around waiting for their name to be called. his father quickly takes care of the sign-in, easing his wife onto a chair.

the sound of the bells ring in the distance, rung 108 times, an earthly desire being removed with each one.

even if they don't get to celebrate the new year as was tradition, there's a brief moment of relief when he does come into the world. despite just being born, he's a boy—already marking him up higher in the line of hierarchy than most in the clan.

that sense of relief is nothing if not short lived.

he's reminded of how much of an inconvenience is throughout his childhood, how much of a failure he is when the lack of a cursed technique can't be excused with age or lack of experience. money was poured into his training, into honing him into the perfect weapon…only for it to be all for naught.

many of his cousins, uncles, and distant relatives have long since developed a cursed technique. his older brother, jinichi, didn't talk to him much either, making up some excuse about training with the hei, about being needed by their mother, something, anything to avoid being seen with the black sheep of the zen'in.

he tries, at first. he tries to impress his cousins with shiny new toys he manages to come across—whether that be a new ball or some flashy toy car. all he wanted was to get the chance to be included, to play the same as every other kid did. but toji doesn't manage to come too close before the group of children rushed away, scrambling to go play somewhere else like he was nothing but a deadly plague.

his aunts whisper. words cling behind the privacy of closed doors, words like ‘mistake,’ ‘disappointment,’ and ‘better off dead’ leaving their tightly pursed lips. if the opportunity arises, they don't miss the chance to tell his mother, to whisper such venomous thoughts in her ear. toji sees the day when she stops seeing him as her son, when she starts seeing him the same as everyone else.

as the very thing that cursed her to a life of shame.

the scraps of food she'd sneak to his room out of obligation? out of some twisted form of love? don't come again, leaving him scavenging for a meal, starving most of the time. his aunts continue to whisper in her ear, offers about how their husbands could easily rid the burden that smudged and dirtied the zen'in name.

there's not so much as a hint of shame on their faces when they catch him pressing his ear against the wall, listening in to every horrible word that left their lips. better for him to know early on what was thought of him.

"toji. follow me," his father calls out one day before leading him through a dark hallway, dimly lit by a couple lanterns hung up on the wall. his smaller footsteps pitter patter against cold concrete, struggling to catch up to much larger footsteps. footsteps he couldn't fill no matter how hard he tried, no matter how many hours he spent training in vain to make up for his own shortcomings.

they're greeted by a pair of large wooden doors, a dark aura emanating from the room before it's even open. it reeks of humanity's evil, of all the things that should be discarded and exhumed. toji hesitates before following after his father, welcomed into an empty room.

large rows line up the granite walls of the room, each one holding spirits toji can't see. he doesn't need to see them to feel them, though. to feel how starved they’ve been throughout their incarceration in this room.

"they're calm for now, only while i'm here, his father speaks, calmly, "when i leave, they'll come out to attack. do yourself and do us a favor, stop being a disappointment for once."

stop being a disappointment.

wooden doors shut behind him, sealing his punishment in stone. slowly but surely, the creatures start making their way out of their hiding spot upon catching a whiff of toji. upon catching a whiff of a mere mortal, of the perfect prey.

toji scrambles off his feet, stumbling as he makes his way over to the wooden doors. they won't open. there's no handle on the inside, almost as if they're meant to keep whoever dares to step inside, well inside. his fingers pry at the door, trying to get it open, to get them to budge even just an inch. they don't. they stubbornly remain shut.

"open up," he stubbornly calls out. it's not begging, but it is a rather desperate plea, "please, i'll try harder! just let me out!" his hands bleed with each claw he gives the door, with each second that his cries go unheard. his throat hurts, his hands hurt, everything hurts.

"please." his skin crawls over with goosebumps, the monsters circling around his body. a lamb to the slaughter. he hears their shrill whispers echoing through his skull—about how easy his flesh would be to rip through, how long they’ve waited for meal like this.

toji knows no one is coming, but still, foolishly, he waits to hear footsteps echoing across the hall. for his mother to open the doors, to envelop him into a hug he hasn’t felt in years. the first spirit lunges directly, fangs beared out and claws outstretched in front of its body. he glides through air at the speed of light, punching through the spirit before it even realizes it’s been hit.

purple goo hits concrete with a loud splat that resounds throughout the vast pit, the other curses immediately rushing into a battle. an army against a boy. every single one of his senses is finely attuned to each of their movements—smelling their putrid breath every step they take closer, listening in to claws scratching against concrete, feeling goosebumps crawl up his skin they prepared to attack.

none of the spirits managed to survive toji zen’in’s wrath. one of them managed to get a good scratch in, driving their claw through the corner of his right lip. crimson stained the floors then, creatures momentarily distracted by the taste of iron before he managed to get his final attacks in. his fist slid through thick layers of flesh as if it were nothing more than just sandpaper, leaving nothing but a trail of goo behind him.

fear sparked throughout the clan when he stepped out of the room with only a scar across his lip—he was supposed to be dead. those spirits were supposed to be troublesome, were supposed to be the finest arsenal that the clan had at their disposal. who was to say he couldn't massacre them the same way if he chose to do so? no one dared to face him anymore, trembling in their spots if he so much as came near before rushing in the other direction.

there were talks. about eliminating him now before he became a threat they possibly couldn't handle. "kill him while he's asleep," naobito suggested, words slurring while he spoke but filled with meaning all the same. the rest of them nodded, deliberating his life the way one would choose what to eat for dinner. his mom hesitated before speaking up, "is that really necessary?"

a pregnant pause befell the room before boisterous cackles burst through the walls, naobito near stumbling and falling from his spot. he took a few steps forward, the scent of beer on his lips while jabbing a wrinkled, crooked finger in her chest. "you want us to risk our safety over what you cursed this family with? we're already being treated like a joke by the other clans because of you, that boy was supposed to be the heir!"

she shrunk down underneath his gaze, shaking her head. "no, of course not. i don't think the clan should suffer over my… incompetence." naobito let out a scoff but didn't push further, walking back over to the front of the room. despite their words, no sorcerer alike was willing to go up against the man who managed to survive the pit. he went ignored.

the first time that toji zen’in kills a human being, a grade one sorcerer, he throws up. bile raises up his throat, burning as it drops onto a filthy hotel toilet. he's not sure how long he scrubs his hands for after, his skin dried up and yet, he's not able to rid himself of the blood that clings under his fingernails with a vengeance.

his eyes flutter closed—the image being imprinted in his mind so clearly. the sign of the man clinging onto the last bits of life, trying to desperately heal themselves to no avail. he remembers watching the life fade away from his eyes, watching the color shift to a ghoulish grey and the light dim down until there's nothing left.

nothing but residuals and a husk of a body to show for the life that he's lived for. but toji does what needs to do to survive. there's only one thought that courses through his mind— leaving the zen’in clan behind.

the second time that toji zen’in kills a human being is in the midst of a war, joining the military after turning eighteen and moving overseas with no money to his name or anywhere else to go. he doesn’t flinch when he pulls the trigger, when the man begs to see his family one last time. he’s been stripped away from compassion, from weakness into the perfect weapon. his commanders label the killing as a necessary measure to survive. he doesn’t question it.

his only focus is on survival. there’s not a day that threats don’t land on the base’s doorstep, locals telling them to get the hell out. humanity slips away from his comrades with each grenade thrown, with each member of the troop they have to bury. he hears things not meant for his ears—talks between the japanese and us government about allowing military entry into japan.

“admiral’s been talking. says that some sorcerer kenjaku’s trying to convince the president into intervening in japan. something about a new energy source,” one of his lieutenants speaks in a hushed whisper, the rest of the troop gone to bed for the night. toji inches forward to the carp, staying in the shadows. they don’t notice his presence.

“how many soldiers you think we’re gonna need?” the other responds, looking the carp at the slightest sway of the wind. “maybe ten to twenty thousand.” they continue to have their conversation under the guise of being private, sharing sensitive information about nuclear weapons, about how many soldiers were likely to die. toji doesn’t tell anyone what he’s heard.

he sees things he shouldn’t see, how his superiors don’t hesitate in killing a soldier as soon as they step out of line, as soon as they reveal information meant to be kept top secret. it’s not just at the top: there’s deals between soldiers and the locals—a couple thousand dropped in exchange for a new drug and weaponry trade.

the sound of missiles rushing through the atmosphere and the boom of artillery becomes the lullaby that toji zen’in closes his eyes to. he doesn’t dare to fall asleep for more than five minutes at a time, running off spite and caffeine more often than not. he saw what happened to the troops that got too comfortable—either killed by the enemy or by the higher ups themselves.

most of his comrades spend their time missing their family back home—spending each spare second they had available calling their wives and whispering promises they’re not even sure they can keep. every day blends into one: the same routine of being woken up by a loud blare at four in the morning, training until their bones felt like a glob of gelatin holding them together, addressing any threats, and eating dinner before going off to bed at nine.

it’s all the same to him.

there’s nothing for toji when his contract comes to an end. no home awaiting his return with excitement, no warm meals on his plate. just hotel rooms with paint splitting across the walls, toilets that haven’t worked properly in half a decade, and beds that leave him struggling to get up in the morning.

the money that he does end up earning from the tour ends up going into an expensive arsenal of weaponry and horse races. , often leaving him scrambling to count his pennies for the next meal he’d have. sometimes he’d get a woman to pay to sleep with him, pounding her through a squeaky mattress without so much as knowing her name.

toji didn’t hesitate on agreeing to another tour when his commander reached out.

—

light comes to him in the form of fushiguro-san.

it’s not long after he overhears the conversation between his lieutenants that his squadron is sent over to japan to investigate cursed energy and the special grade sorcerer: satoru gojo. toji sees the mission for what it is—a suicide mission commanded by his superiors.

no matter how many grenades, how many guns, how many rounds they have under their belt, none of that matters if they can’t penetrate through to attack the strongest. toji doesn’t mention anything though, simply keeps his head down under the guise of doing his work.

the streets of tokyo light up under fluorescent lights, shops open until late in the night for any stragglers refusing to go home just yet. laughter bubbles around him from the few people passing by, huddled up into small drunken groups. he steps into a small restaurant tucked away between two larger buildings, the warm scent of broth welcoming him as he stepped foot inside.

a young woman walks over, greeting him with a forced smile plastered across her face. “hi. what can i get for started for you twenty minutes before closing?” she questioned as she passed over a menu, her eye twitching at the last part. ah, he’d ruined any chance of her leaving early tonight. whoops.

toji merely meets her gaze with an amused grin on his face, raising a brow. he doesn’t so much as look at the menu before he questions, “what do you got?”

the woman in front of him shoots him a deadly glare, an exasperated scoff leaving her lips before she retorts, “if you look at the menu right in front of you, you’d see what we have.”

he shrugs. “i’m aware. i want to see what you recommend for me.”

the woman takes the menu, grumbling under her breath at the notion of having to work after hours all the way back to the kitchen. she comes back with a steaming plate of takoyaki, bonito flakes and mayonnaise coating the top of the octopus balls.

the first bite of his food is near heavenly—the tempura, octopus, and picked ginger filling formed the perfect symphony when landing on his tongue, the flavors complimenting each other spectacularly. scarfing down the food in less than five minutes straight, his plate’s licked clean and even the woman looks appalled by his gluttony.

she quickly clears her throat, imputing that order into the register. “that’ll be 800 yen.”

he digs through his pockets for a few coins, scattering them across the counter in front of him. “keep the change,” he tells her before heading out, pushing his hood back over his head.

counting the coins in her hand, she lets out a disbelieving scoff. “you’re three hundred and twenty yen short!” she yells after him, a few street goers turning to look at her, “asshole!”

“see you tomorrow!”

toji starts ditching the canned beans and near expired ground beef they had the disgrace of calling food at base to walk the three miles over to the restaurant she worked, coming over near closing time once everyone’s dispersed. he pulls his hood over his head, padding through near-empty streets like a ghost. a little bell chimes when he steps into the restaurant, fushiguro-san looking up from the teriyaki stain she was diligently trying to remove.

“i thought you wouldn’t show up,” she spoke up with a smile he could only describe as fond, setting her rag down on the table. toji pushed his hood down, slowly stepping inside (as if he’s waiting for the moment she’ll reject his presence) and plops down on one of the counter stools.

“couldn’t have you miss me too much.” she doesn’t dignify him with a verbal response, merely letting out a quiet scoff before moving into the kitchen. she reappears with a brown paper bag in her hand, grease staining the bottom of it and sticking to her fingers.

for a man who once didn’t have much to live for, who didn’t have anything to look forward to, he started to find meaning in every little meeting he shared with fushiguro-san. in every little thing he learned about her—in what she likes to do (“gardening, sometimes. i’m not that good at it but i still like to grow my own veggies when i can,” she’d shared over a warm cup of coffee), in what kind of food she liked to cook, in what she wanted to do outside of waitressing (“maybe i’d open up a small business, not really sure what i’d sell though.”)

toji wanted to be a better man, a man that was deserving to be in her life as anything other than the one she held pity towards. it wasn’t a change that happened overnight, none of his habits gone at the snap of a finger. stacks of lottery tickets were traded in for one per week, before eventually dwindling out.

where takeout boxes once scattered every corner of whatever hotel he happened to be staying in, they were now replaced by cutting boards, by pots and pans, by home cooked meals that practically tasted like love at the first bite. he had someone to come to when this tour was over, a home that they built together throughout the years.

toji saved up every last coin he had available to buy an expensive diamond ring upon his contract coming to an end, promising to stay by her side in sickness and in health throughout the rest of his days. it was a promise he intended to keep, she’d brought meaning into a life he deemed miserable and unfulfilling. he went from simply surviving to wanting to live, spending his time browsing through school districts, apartments, and nurseries as their little family of two grew to three with little tsumiki.

his commander reached out with another contract in exchange for a few years. “one tour and i’ll come home to you,” he’d whispered before his plane took off, placing the most gentle of kisses upon her forehead.

“we’ll be waiting for you,” she assured, a hand splayed across her stomach. “me, tsumiki, and megumi when he decides to come out.”

—

red.

that was the only thing toji could see when he turned around. his fingers trembled against the ice cream cones in hand, three scoops splattered across the floor as if mimicking the pools of blood dribbling and pouring out of his family’s bodies. he should’ve been the one dead, not them. if only he hadn’t turned his back around.

if only he hadn’t come back home from the marines.

if only he hadn’t stepped into that restaurant and ruined her future that afternoon.

it was all his fault and there was nothing he could do about it now.

there wasn’t anyone around, scrambling up to their feet to take off running before toji managed to catch up to them. the ice cream truck behind him pulled out of their spot in a rush, tires squealing against pavement. there’s just three bullet shells and the ghost of where his children had once been laughing amongst themselves.

it was too precise to be a coincidence—there were no other parents around, no one who would’ve simply targeted a group of strangers at a playground.

“dad, make sure to get me strawberry!” tsumiki had called out with a large grin, pushing her little brother in his swing. the little boy, in spite of often not sharing much emotion, giggled and clapped his chubby little hands each time she pushed him up higher.

“yeah, yeah, will do,” toji muttered, walking over to where his wife was sitting comfortably on a picnic blanket with a book on her lap. he pressed a small kiss against her cheek, her expression softening up at the contact almost immediately. she met his lips in the gentlest of kisses, one of her hands coming up to rest on his cheek.

tsumiki and megumi turned to look at the two, retching and pretending to throw up at the scene. pointing at the scene with scrunched noses and giggling as they shouted, “ewwww, gross!”

his wife let out a quiet laugh against his lips, the sound bubbly and airy and all too perfect after months of not hearing her. “get me vanilla too, please,” she whispered, pressing a small kiss on his cheek before he walked off.

toji walked over to the ice cream truck parked on the street, expecting to find an eager line of children in front of him with dollar bills clutched in hand. there’s no one there but him. maybe that should’ve been the first warning sign. “hey, what can i get you man?” the window opens, a relatively old looking guy looking out at him.

“one vanilla scoop, one strawberry, and one rocky road.” he passed over a ten dollar bill, the window in front of him shutting once more. toji turned around to see his wife smiling back over at him, giving a small wave. the next time that he happened to turn around, he wasn’t so lucky to be met with the same smile.

it was supposed to be a innocent trip to the park. where his children could enjoy a day in the fresh outdoors on a warm sunny day and run around, feel the grass underneath their feet. toji had just arrived from tour—basking in all the late mornings sleeping with his wife, waking up to seeing her smile at him, listening to megumi call him ‘dada!’ in person instead of a static phone line, and tsumiki paint all over his face like her personal canvas.

it wasn’t enough time. it would never be enough time.

he dropped down to the floor, fingers pressing against the gaping wound on his wife’s chest. he couldn’t feel a pulse beneath his palms, blood streaming through his fingers despite his attempts to put pressure on the wound. “stay with me,” his voice cracked, vision blurring at the edges, “stay with me, come on.”

her expression was frozen into one of shock, fingers stretched out by her side like she was about to run after the kids. his head dropped, holding her against his chest. blood smeared onto his fingers, face, and clothes but that was the least of his concerns. “ambulance’s almost here, just hang on.” deep down, he knows that she died the moment the bullet entered her body.

toji brushed away a couple strands that fell onto her forehead, touch as gentle as could be. he’d been given a little slice of meaning just to have it be coldly ripped away from his hands. red, white, and blue lights melted into a blur as police and emergency services rushed to the scene, asking him questions that he didn’t know the answer to.

“did you see who the culprit was?” no.

“do you have any reason to believe someone was targeting you or your family?” they were met with a deadly cold glare in response.

“sir, do you need one of us to give you funeral service pamphlets?” he was supposed to be thinking of their next trip as a family, maybe off to the beach. he didn’t dignify that with a response.

while today he’d be mourning his wife and children, burying their body in the ground while wishing it was him instead, he’d be out for blood tomorrow.

as always, i’d love to hear your thots and thank you for reading up to this point :3

taglist: @re-tired-succubus @etherealforcefrontier @itskarito @dadonprimma @0soleilmist @luv4dapape @honeyoftheisle @winniethepoohjusttookapooh @tohru-tales @bam-boozledx @cyber4t @athalia-amor @orchid-monster

sextier

God my friends r so talented 😩

#jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk smut #toji fushiguro fanfic #toji fushiguro angst #toji fushiguro x you

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