Template system in High school : DXD

Toji grins, sweat glistening on his brow.

"Let me tell you," he pants, circling. "You've surpassed my expectations. Let's finish this."

Jin doesn't respond. Just a slight shift of the weight on his back foot, breath controlled, pupils pinned on Toji's knife hand. They're both bleeding — red glints on their skin like war paint. But there's no anger in their eyes. Only hunger. Focus. Two predators looking at each other .

The living room around them is chaos — furniture overturned, shattered glass, blood smeared across the floor. A lamp lies flickering on its side, casting erratic shadows. One wrong move, one slip — it's over.

Toji steps first, low and fast.

Steel flashes. Jin sways aside, barely missing a slash meant for his ribs. His foot catches a coffee table — he kicks it, hard, into Toji's shins. The bigger man stumbles, but rolls with it, shoulder-checking Jin toward the wall. Jin recovers, ducking low and slashing upward — a clean cut across Toji's mouth.

Vertical lines split both his lips. Red blossoms.

Toji growls, touching his mouth, then laughs — blood staining his teeth.

"That's one."

Jin exhales, blade reversed in his grip, eyes sharp.

Toji lunges again — a flurry of strikes. Jin parries, footwork tight, using the wall to narrow the angle. A kitchen stool comes flying — Jin deflects it with his arm, pain shooting through muscle — then uses it, immediately, to vault over the couch. It buys him space, but not time.

Toji's already on him.

Their blades clash — short, controlled strikes. No wasted motion. Toji goes high; Jin ducks, answers with a stab toward the thigh — deflected by Toji's shin. Jin pivots behind the couch, grabbing a shattered bottle. He throws it, blinding — then darts in, slicing for the throat.

Toji catches his wrist.

They struggle, twisting, furniture cracking around them as they slam each other into walls, objects, anything that gives leverage. Jin gets an elbow in — a crack of bone on chin — but it's answered by a brutal headbutt that sends him reeling.

Toji rushes.

Jin falls back over the kitchen counter, grabbing a frying pan with his off-hand. He swings. Toji blocks, but it slows him — just long enough for Jin to stab forward , toji doge on instinct and counter slash — a gash just above the eye in the eyeborows . Blood pours down, obscuring Jin's vision.

Toji roars, knees Jin in the gut — once, twice.

Jin folds, gasping — then counters with a desperate uppercut that stuns. They both stumble. Both wounded. Both breathing hard.

Then Jin does the unexpected — he throws his knife.

Toji dodges — but Jin's already moving. He grabs Toji's arm, twists, and wrenches the blade free from his grip. It clatters to the floor. Now Jin's on top, knife pressed toward Toji's chest, both of them collapsing into the floor in a heap of limbs and rage.

Jin straddles him, shaking with effort, knife inching toward Toji's heart.

"I got you now."

Toji grits his teeth, sweat and blood dripping into his eyes.

"Yeah…" he growls, arms trembling under the pressure. "I gotta admit — you've got more experience than me. I don't know how..."

Then — it changes.

Green light bleeds from beneath Toji's skin.

His body tenses, muscles swelling with sudden unnatural force. A low hum vibrates through the air. Jin's face shifts — confusion, then realization. Then pain.

Toji hurls him off. Like a child tossing a toy.

Jin crashes into the far wall, furniture exploding under the impact. He tries to rise — pain lances through his shoulder. Dislocated.

Toji stands. The green glow pulses along his veins. Breathing heavy, chest heaving. He rolls his neck, licking the blood from his split lips.

Then — in a blur — he's on Jin.

Jin's — instincts take over. He try to block . But the strength difference is a chasm now. Toji shrugs it off, grabs Jin's arm, and throws him down the hallway.

CRASH.

Jin hits the wall hard enough to crack plaster. Spiderweb fissures bloom across the paint. He doesn't move.

His arm toji had graped — bent wrong. Broken.

Toji walks into the hallway, the knife now back in his hand. Calm. Dominant.

He exhales. Wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Okay," he mutters. "That's done then."

===

The air reeked of gasoline.

Toji stood over the broken concrete with a lazy smirk, his boots dusted with ash and soot. He looked down at his dazed subordinates—those still groaning—and then tilted his head toward the smoldering wreck of a home behind him.

"To hell with it," he muttered. "Burn it down."

One of the lackeys obeyed without a word, uncapping a dented metal canister and sloshing petrol across the wooden panels of the porch. The pungent liquid soaked the walls, pooled in the seams of the foundation, and seeped into the curtains through a cracked window.

Jin lay slumped . Blood had dried on the edge of his brow, and his arms hung limp at his sides.

The faint creak of the front door stirred something in him.

His eyes blinked open. Blurry shapes. A man stepping out—one of Toji's men. The stink of petrol hit him next. His body tensed. No sound came from him, only the silent scream rising in his chest as the memories began to claw back.

The crunch of boots followed. Toji, tall and easy in his movements, strolled up to the soaked doorway. A silver lighter gleamed in his hand.

He thumbed it open. Click. A flame burst to life.

He crouched down, dipped a torn cloth into the petrol, lit it, and without a moment's pause—tossed it inside.

The fire caught with a whoosh, licking across the drapes like it had been waiting for this moment. Orange and blue flames danced hungrily up the walls, devouring paint, bookshelves, and furniture in seconds.

Jin's breath caught in his throat.

His vision sharpened—not from clarity, but shock. The flames reflected in his eyes as if they had ignited inside him. The warmth on his face wasn't heat—it was memory. His fist clenched, uselessly.

Images surged forward. His mother, humming as she watered the small balcony garden. Her hands smoothing his hair before school. Her laughter in the kitchen. The scent of soap and cardamom tea. All of it—his life—trapped in that house.

Gone.

Tears spilled down his cheeks, not gently, but violently, like a dam breaking. He was too weak to move, too stunned to scream.

But something inside him screamed anyway.

"No… no… NO!!!" Jin roared, trying to stand but only managing to drag himself forward, nails scratching uselessly against the floor.

Toji turned, surprise flickering across his face before amusement took over.

"Well, would you look at that?" he said, smirking. "Still awake."

Without hesitation, he walked over and kicked Jin square in the chest, knocking the wind from his lungs. Jin's head snapped back against the floor with a brutal thud, and everything faded to black.

Toji exhaled and turned to his crew.

"Wake those fuckers up," he said, pointing at the groaning bodies of his subordinates sprawled across the living room. "And load him into the van."

One of the men rubbed his head, nodding sluggishly. "Boss wants him alive, right?"

"Yeah," Toji muttered, lighting a cigarette now that the lighter had served its purpose. He took a long drag, then exhaled toward the flames as they swallowed the last of Jin's home. "He'll get him. This little shit put up a good fight."

He turned his back on the house as the roof began to crackle and collapse inward.

"But once I deliver him, I'm done," Toji said quietly, almost to himself. "No more debt. No more strings. I'm out."

He didn't look back. The house behind him burned like a funeral pyre, and for the first time in years, Toji allowed himself a sense of closure.