Lefiya didn't expect to follow him again.
Their first meeting had left a mark, a deep one.
She hadn't even exchanged more than a handful of words with him, but that was all it took to plant something in her.
A quiet awe, a pulse of fear, and, most dangerous of all, a flicker of admiration.
He didn't fight like anyone else she knew. He didn't move like anyone else.
The way he sliced through monsters, like cutting breath from lungs.
No chants, no casting. Just a blur, a crack, and silence.
She had seen Bell Cranel fight the Goliath, had seen courage.
But from this man? She saw death itself, controlled and precise.
She never forgot the feeling.
So when she saw him enter the Dungeon again days later, alone, of course, something inside her moved before her logic caught up.
She told the others she'd scout ahead. A half-truth. She wasn't lying.
She was just following a different kind of power.
Her boots padded after him quietly, carefully, her heart thrumming with risk.
Even as she trailed him, she wasn't sure why.
Was it to learn? To grow? Or just... understand how someone so dangerous could exist alone?
She followed him deep, past the upper levels, past the places most would never solo. And then he stopped.
"Done following me, elf?"
Lefiya froze.
He didn't turn to face her. Didn't glance her way. Just stood at the edge of a broken corridor, the carcass of a dead mantis-monster at his feet, its torso caved in by a single strike.
She stepped out slowly, ears burning. "You... you knew?"
Toji Fushiguro turned now. That unsettling calm in his gaze. Not cruel, not kind, just observant. "You're loud. And you smell like nerves."
"I—I wanted to see more on how you fought," she admitted, straightening herself. Her voice cracked. "To understand."
He didn't say anything at first. Just stared at her, jaw ticking like he was debating something.
Then he said, "Alright."
Lefiya blinked. "What?"
"I'll teach you," he said with a shrug, as if offering her a slice of bread. "You want to learn. I've got nothing better to do."
Her heart jumped. "Really?!"
He nodded once. "But if you complain, I'll leave you behind."
"I won't!" she blurted too fast. "I swear—!"
"Good." His mouth curled, just a little. "Start running."
She blinked again. "...Running?"
He pointed down the hall. "From here to the stairs. Twice. Go."
And so it began.
...
The training was... inhumane.
Toji didn't believe in words of encouragement or gentle explanations.
He believed in repetition.
In mistakes being punished by more reps.
He made her dodge pendulum swings he rigged from monster limbs.
Forced her to climb Dungeon walls until her hands bled.
Made her hold a sword, not to strike, but to understand weight and angles. "You cast. You stall. You think too much. Your mind's a battlefield. That's why you're a burden."
That stung. She almost cried. He didn't notice.
But he taught her more about spatial awareness, positioning, and feints in a day than all her combat drills combined.
"Don't chant. Don't reach for your staff first. Reach for the win condition. If you're going to fight with a team, stop being the weak link."
She hated how accurate he was.
She hated even more how she wanted to keep coming back.
After each grueling session, she stumbled back to the surface and joined her party, trying, really trying, to apply what he taught. She lasted half a day before being called out for being "off."
Loki was the first to notice something weird.
"Oi, bean sprout," she'd said, narrowing her eyes at Lefiya. "Where've you been running off to these days? You smell like you've been rolled in dirt and sadness."
"I—I've just been trying to train harder!" Lefiya had squeaked.
Aiz looked at her strangely. Not judging. Just... noticing.
But she didn't tell them. Not yet. How could she? Who would believe she was being trained by him?
...
One night, during another session, Toji had her balance blindfolded on a narrow beam he'd wedged between two Dungeon stalagmites.
"If you can't trust your feet, you can't trust your spells," he said.
"I don't need to do this to chant!" she argued, sweat pouring down her face.
"You need it to survive."
She slipped. He caught her by the collar.
"You're thinking too much again."
"I—I can't not think! I'm a mage! I have to calculate!"
"Then calculate faster."
She bit her lip. Angry. Exhausted. And... driven.
Toji dropped her. "Again."
...
Eventually, Lefiya changed.
Not overnight. But enough.
Her teammates noticed she'd pause before casting, eyes scanning the battlefield faster. She repositioned more. She didn't shout panicked incantations anymore when monsters charged.
She started thinking like someone who wanted to win, not just survive.
One day, she asked Toji:
"Why are you helping me?"
"Boredom"
"...i want the actual reason..."
He didn't answer at first. Just looked out over the Dungeon ledge, smoke curling from a cigarette.
"Because you remind me of someone," he said eventually. "Someone who tried really hard."
"What happened to them?"
He didn't say. But his eyes darkened.
"I didn't protect her."
Lefiya swallowed the lump in her throat.
And said nothing.
But she trained harder the next day.
Because if someone like him thought she was worth training... maybe she could finally become someone worthy of standing beside her Familia.
Maybe she could be more than just a burden.
Even if it meant dragging herself, limping, through every damn lesson he gave.
Even if it meant stepping into the dark, so she could become a light.
...
The sun barely crept over the stone walls of Orario as Lefiya stood near the Guild gate, adjusting the strap of her staff case for the fourth time.
She had slept little the night before, too anxious about today's continuation of Toji's training.
Her limbs still ached from yesterday, her arms were sore from the punishing repetition of mock casting under pressure, and she had barely been able to keep pace with the man who seemed capable of vanishing and reappearing with no warning.
And yet... she was here.
The thought made her frown. Not out of regret, but confusion, why was she here?
"Toji-san," she murmured under her breath, as if invoking his name could answer her.
He had barely spoken yesterday beyond curt instructions and a handful of sharp observations, all of them stinging. But he hadn't turned her away, either.
She was startled from her thoughts when a deep, familiar voice came from behind her.
"You're late."
Lefiya jumped, almost dropping her staff. "Wha—! I-I've been here for ten minutes!"
Toji Fushiguro stood with his arms crossed, a half-eaten skewer of grilled meat dangling from one hand.
He was, as usual, dressed like a man who had no intention of playing by Orario's rules, simple clothe, simple pant, blades half-visible at his waist, and a dead-eyed expression that seemed to always be half a second away from judgment.
"Ten minutes early is still late," he said around a bite, before turning and walking toward the Dungeon entrance without another word.
Lefiya floundered for a moment, then scrambled to follow.
They moved quickly through the first few floors, Lefiya panting to keep up.
Toji didn't slow, not even once. He navigated the Dungeon like it was a familiar hallway, cutting through monsters as if they were minor annoyances, barely worth his time.
But it wasn't the power that stunned her, it was how efficiently he moved.
He never swung more than necessary, never wasted a breath or step.
It was all cold calculation and brutal force, with none of the showmanship or flourish many adventurers used to hide their fear.
This is what it means to survive alone... she realized.
When they reached a quiet section of Floor 6, he stopped, turned to her, and dropped his pack.
"We're doing it again."
"D-Doing what, exactly?"
"Same as yesterday. I pretend to kill you. You learn not to die."
Lefiya paled. "Y-You could put it more kindly, you know!"
"Kindness doesn't help you when something twice your size is trying to rip your throat out."
And with that, he moved, so fast she didn't even register the movement until the cold edge of a blade hovered an inch from her neck.
Her knees buckled.
Toji sighed, withdrawing the blade. "You hesitated again. That hesitation will get you killed. You can't rely on others saving you. Not even Aiz."
"I-I know that!" she snapped, a burst of heat in her cheeks. "That's why I'm here!"
The outburst seemed to amuse him. He sat back on a low stone, arms folded.
"Then stop acting like a support mage waiting to be protected. Think. React. Use that brain you're supposed to have."
Lefiya clenched her fists. She hated how easily he could tear through her pride. But more than that... she hated that he was right.
The training continued.
Day after day, she followed him into the Dungeon, always in secret.
She lied to her party, claimed she was doing solo scouting or helping the Guild.
Bete looked at her with suspicion.
Tiona was too cheerful to notice.
Riveria.... Riveria likely knew, but hadn't said a word.
Every time she returned from training, bruised and sore, she took notes.
On Toji's footwork.
On his habits.
On how he read monster movement patterns.
He rarely explained his logic, but Lefiya was observant.
She started mimicking his positioning, even if she couldn't match the power.
He once caught her doing it and grunted, "Huh. You're learning."
She didn't say anything, but her heart soared.
But training under Toji wasn't just about combat. It was about mindset.
He didn't tolerate excuses.
If she panicked mid-cast, he reset the drill.
If she froze when surprised, he barked orders like a drill sergeant.
He mocked her, teased her, and forced her into high-pressure simulations.
"Your problem," he said once, while she was lying flat on her back after dodging a thrown dagger, "is you keep fighting like someone else is coming to save you. You fight like you've already lost."
She stared up at him, chest heaving. "And you fight like no one's ever coming."
He paused at that. Then looked away.
"Exactly."
It wasn't long before Lefiya's change became visible to others.
In her next party outing, she moved differently, quicker to reposition, more decisive with her spell choices.
She offered suggestions that caught even Riveria by surprise.
"You've improved," the elven mage said after the expedition.
Lefiya smiled tightly. "Just... trying to keep up."
But her heart beat faster with pride.
Tiona eventually caught her slipping out again one morning and tailed her for a few blocks before she confronted her.
"Lefiyaaaa~! Are you sneaking off to meet someone?!"
The elf yelped. "T-Tiona?! I—no! I'm not—I mean—!"
Toji, watching from a rooftop, rolled his eyes and vanished from sight. He didn't feel like dealing with Familia drama that day.
Lefiya made up some excuse, cheeks bright red, and promised herself to be more careful next time.
Their next session was brutal. Toji took her to Floor 10, where monster aggression ramped up.
He handed her a dull blade. "You cast too slow. From now on, while casting, you move. Use the blade. You get hit, we start again."
"But—I'm a mage!"
"Then act like one who doesn't want to die."
The change in Lefiya was becoming undeniable.
She still panicked, sometimes. Still doubted herself.
But she moved. She thought. She planned. And she was learning to stand on her own.
And through it all, Toji, watched quietly, correcting her only when needed, pushing her when she slacked.
Once, after a particularly brutal day, as they sat catching their breath, she asked, "Why are you helping me?"
Toji leaned back, eyes on the stone ceiling.
"Again? You're really annoying sometime, you know that? ...Like i said. Boredom. Mostly."
She didn't believe that. Not entirely.
And he didn't elaborate.
Eventually, the Loki Familia began to investigate.
Riveria sent someone to keep an eye on Lefiya.
Gareth asked questions.
Bete grew suspicious and demanded answers.
But Lefiya kept the truth to herself.
Because this... this wasn't about Toji. It was about becoming someone who could protect her friends, not be protected.
And oddly, painfully, Toji Fushiguro, the man who seemed to care for no one, was the one teaching her how.