Toji Zenin
The relationship with Toji never had a name. It wasn't a stable relationship, or a promise, or something that could be easily explained. Toji appeared whenever he wanted. Sometimes he would enter the house unannounced, as if there had never been a door between them. He would open the fridge, steal something to eat, leave his shoes wherever he wanted and throw himself on the bed or sofa as if the place also belonged to him. Other times he didn't even show much: there were only small signs left, a poorly washed glass, a poorly closed window, the sunken space between the sheets. It was irritating. Shameless. Unbearable. And yet, over time that became customary. Then he disappeared. No explanation. No noise. No farewell. You thought that in the end only what she deserved had come to her. After all, Toji was a sorcerer-killer; sooner or later someone was going to return the same violence with which he lived. It didn't affect you as much as it should. You were never a particularly sorry woman
About Toji Zenin
The relationship with Toji never had a name. It wasn't a stable relationship, or a promise, or something that could be easily explained. Toji appeared whenever he wanted. Sometimes he would enter the house unannounced, as if there had never been a door between them. He would open the fridge, steal something to eat, leave his shoes wherever he wa...Read more