The sliding door creaked open with a soft kachak, sunlight spilling in across the wooden tatami floor. Birds chirped outside, but the warmth of the day didn't match the sluggish energy oozing off Toji .
Still tangled in a thick, oversized cotton futon, he lay sprawled out butt naked with muscles like steel cables coiled beneath skin. His muscles, honed through years of rigorous training and battles, rippled with each movement. The room was silent except for the creaking of the wooden floor beneath him.. He stretched with a groan, flexing, the sound of his joints cracking echoing through the bedroom.
His phone buzzed somewhere under a pile of crumpled clothes. Groaning, he reached over lazily, swiping through his notifications. Betting app: -₩80,000. -₩100,000. -₩55,000.
"Again, huh…" he muttered. Each one was a loss. He clicked his teeth in mild irritation, a habitual response to the frequent disappointments of gambling.
Setting the phone aside, his gaze fell upon a neatly folded set of clothes beside the bed. Atop them lay a note, written in delicate handwriting: "Breakfast is on the table, and lunch is in the fridge. Please heat it up before you eat (づ｡◕‿‿◕｡)づ"
Toji stared at the cute hearts and squiggly smiley face for a few seconds, then let out a small breath of a laugh through his nose.
"…She's...mmm" he mumbled, the bitterness from the gambling losses melting away for a moment. He slapped on a wrinkled dark tee and sweatpants, his bare feet padding across the smooth wooden floor as he slid open another door into the tiny, clean kitchen.
The Japanese style home, attached directly to his bike workshop, was old-school the wooden beams, paper screen windows, and a low table with neatly stacked rice bowls. It smelled faintly of engine oil and grilled mackerel, a strange but comforting combo.
Making his way to the sink, he splashed cold water on his face, the shock of it jolting him fully awake, glancing at the wall clock. 11:04 AM. Late, by most standards, but Toji operated on his own schedule.
He wolfed down the warm bowl of rice, fish, and pickled veggies, considering whether today was worth showing up to work. He didn't run a shop so much as a shrine of rusted old bikes, half of which he fixed for free just to keep his hands busy.
He was halfway through his tea when "BANG. BANG. BANG."
"Hey! Anybody here?! Hellooo?!"
Toji stopped chewing.
"...Who the hell knocks on a garage door like that?" he muttered, wiping his mouth.
He heard it again.
"HELLO? The sign says closed but someone's gotta be in there, right?! I saw it online, it's gotta be this place! COME ON, don't you want your place to be famous? I'm an influencer you know I can close this place forever if I want."
Toji blinked. "...Influencer?"
He walked barefoot into the front shop, a cluttered but organized space with bikes in various states of disrepair. Tools hung on walls, and oil-stained rags littered the counter.
He slid the glass door open, flipping the sign from "Closed" to "Open."
Outside stood a short, chubby guy...maybe 4'11, pushing 5' in shoes...wearing oversized shades and holding a selfie stick, a smartphone attached and livestreaming.
"Yo, finally! I thought this was one of those shitty worthless repair shops!"
The streamer turned, and his jaw visibly dropped.
Toji stood there, shirt unbottened, his hair a mess of spiky black strands, arms crossed, looking down at him with sleepy but sharp green eyes. His height, his lean-cut muscular body, the way his veins popped out on his forearms it was aesthetic intimidation incarnate.
The streamer whose username popped up as "BikeBoi69" gulped audibly.
"U-Uhh... you fix bikes, right? It's cool if you don't! Right, chat?" he turned the phone toward himself nervously.
But the chat was already going nuts:
🐰: OMG WHO IS THAT
💦💀: daddy??
🌸: Show more oppa 😭😭😭
🐉: THIS AINT BIKE REPAIR THIS IS A THIRST TRAP
🛵: WHERE IS THIS PLACE I'M COMING RN
🍙: those arms could fix my whole life istg
🐸: GREEN EYES HELLO?! THAT'S ANIME SHIT
🍞: mans looks like he eats engines for breakfast
The viewer count jumped from 2,000 to 25,000 in less than a minute.
Toji just stared.
"...You talk like that to everyone, or just your phone?" he asked, his deep voice rolling out like a rumble of distant thunder.
The chat exploded:
🎤: THAT VOICE🥵
😄: oppa please speak again
🧼: i just dropped my phone in the shower help
🏍️: He sounds like a final boss 😳
🍓: 💀💀💀 I'm simping so hard rn
🐯: He is definetly on juices 💉
"I-I mean," BikeBoi69 stammered, pointing to a semi-broken Yamaha beside him, "it's got something wrong with the brakes… or maybe the chain? Honestly, IDK. Chat said bring it to 'Japans Wrench House' and here I am."
Toji squinted. "Wrench House?"
"Yeah! That's what your shop's called on social media. You're lowkey kinda famous now."
Toji groaned. "Hell…"
He sighed, cracking his neck, and walked over to examine the bike. He crouched his forearms flexing under his skin and ran a hand along the chain and brakes, testing the movement.
As Toji wheeled the bike into the shop, the young man continued his live stream, occasionally sneaking glances at Toji as he worked for his viewers. The comments remained relentless:
🧃: omg his hands 😭📦: is this a repair stream or a fanservice stream?!🎣: I'm straight but even I'm falling🔧: I can hear the metal blushing bro🐚: WHERE IS THIS WORKSHOP LOCATED TELL US OR RIOT📍: South Korea??? I'm booking flights rn
"Gimme an hour," Toji muttered, dragging the bike inside like it weighed nothing.
"Y-Yeah! I'll just wait out here and keep streaming... or maybe... sit... down," the streamer mumbled.
Inside, Toji fired up his tools, though fired up might've been generous.
He grabbed a wrench, stared at it for two seconds, then scratched his head with the handle.
"...The hell is this even for again?" he mumbled, yawning.
Instead of carefully disassembling anything, he yanked the seat off the bike like it owed him money. Then he grabbed a nut from the back wheel, looked at it for a beat, and chucked it across the workshop.
CLANG.
It bounced off a toolbox and rolled under a dusty shelf.
He shrugged. "Probably not important."
The stream mic, still catching everything through the window, picked up every mutter, grunt, and the occasional "Eh, close enough" as he fumbled with wires and literally used a hammer on a brake line.
And yet... the parts were slowly falling into place.
Every move was pure chaos, like a drunken martial artist fixing a bike with the power of vibes, but the result was undeniably functional.
The chat was going feral:
🐇: he talks to himself?? that's so anime main character coded
🔥: THAT'S A MAN WHO'S BEEN THROUGH THINGS
💬: I wanna be the wrench in his hands
😭💻: this stream is gonna go viral
🫀: I need this man to ruin my life respectfully
🧂: why did he just throw that nut?! that was important omg
🛠️: BRO JUST PUT THE SCREW IN BACKWARDS
🐍: this guy doesn't know what he's doing lmao
👎: worst mechanic I've ever seen lol
Then the fight back began:
🐯: STFU
🐍 he's working in SILENCE. respect the grind.
🐱: shut up loser 😭 the bike is getting FIXED
🦴: y'all critiquing but your dad can't even change a tire
💥: "he doesn't know what he's doing" and yet the brakes are smoother than your girl's past. 🧤: he's just built different 🔧
🐾: HE'S WRENCHING WITH INSTINCT, BRO
🍜: This ain't chaos. It's art.
Toji, blissfully unaware of the online war being waged over his competence, scratched his jaw, grabbed a bolt, sniffed it, and then tossed it into a drawer marked "???"
Finally, he gave the front wheel a spin and luckily it rotated smooth as butter.
"Huh," he blinked. "Not bad."
He leaned against the workbench and opened a warm can of Boss Coffee from under a pile of sandpaper. "...Guess I still got it."
From outside, BikeBoi yelled, "Y-Yo, everything good in there?"
Toji popped the door open, dragging the repaired bike like a corpse "Yeah. It moves now."
The chat popped off:
📣: HE DID IT???
🌊: This is peak man behavior
🧠: master mechanic, caveman style
🔧: Bro built like a barbarian but fixes like Beethoven
🧃: It's giving 'I-don't-know-what-I'm-doing-but-it-works' energy
🧎: sensei... take me as your apprentice 🙏
🍑: daddy dropped the nut and still nailed the job 😭😭😭
Toji tossed BikeBoi the keys with zero ceremony. "Next time, try not riding it like a crackhead."
BikeBoi nearly cried. "Y-Yes, sir."
By the time the hour was up, the viewer count had climbed to 56,000.
BikeBoi's knees practically hit the floor as he held his phone with both hands, like he was offering it to a some god.
"PLEASE, hyung! Just say hi to the stream! Just one 'hello'! You'll break the internet! Look—we're trending under #WorkshopDaddy!"
Toji raised a brow, shirt still half-unbuttoned and hair messily falling over one eye as he leaned in to glance at the phone screen.
"Workshop... what?"
The chat exploded again:
🌕: my mom's watching this and she's simping to
o🧲: bro fixed a bike and my depression
🧠: this ain't just thirst, it's respect thirst
🥋: why does he look like he could beat up Goku
🍜: stream more of him pls 😭😭😭
📈: FOLLOW FOLLOW FOLLOW
💦: I would let this man reassemble my ***
🍼: Daddy Toji can bottle-feed me despair 😭
🫦: BREATHE INTO THE MIC I'M BEGGING
👑: I wanna be the wrench he throws away 🛠️
🐣: Is this what spiritual awakening looks like??
🔞: YOOO I volunteer to be bred by this man 😭😭😭
💀: bro I'm a dude and I'd still say yes if he asked
Toji blinked slowly.
"…The f*ck did I just read?" He looked down at the streamer. "Did… did someone just say 'breed me?'"
The streamer nodded, shaking like a chihuahua. "It's the internet, hyung. It's a scary place. You just gotta let it happen."
Toji took the phone, squinting closer at the screen.
🧷: sir I can cook, clean, and shut up 😩
🪦: me and my homies are down bad together, respectfully
🪜: I'm crawling through the screen right now
🫠: my gender is now whatever Toji tells me it is
🕯️: manifesting Toji stepping on me gently but firmly
"…Yo what the...WHY ARE SOME OF THESE FROM MEN?!"
The streamer started sweating. "Equality, bro. Everyone wants a piece."
Toji stared at the chat like it had personally offended him.
"I ain't saying hi to no one"
He glanced at one particularly unhinged comment:
🫨: if Toji says 'hi' I'll tattoo it on my left butt cheek
He immediately handed the phone back. "Y'all need therapy. Like real, government-funded therapy."
The streamer laughed nervously. "Okay, okay, not hi. But maybe just a 'Yo'?"
Toji sighed deeply, like this was somehow more exhausting than fixing a flaming motorcycle.
He turned to the camera, rubbed the back of his neck, and with all the emotion of a man reading his own arrest warrant said:
"…Yo."
The chat combusted:
🧨: HE SAID YO🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥
🥵: PUT IT ON A SHIRT
🎥: SCREEN-RECORDED AND SET AS MY ALARM
🐉: I CAN DIE PEACEFULLY NOW
🎧: loop it. drop it as an 8D audio track.
Toji just walked back into the workshop, muttering, "I need holy water for my f*cking eyes…"
The streamer turned back to the camera, absolutely grinning. He was still hunched over his phone, wide-eyed and glowing from the influx of attention. "Yes! And we should totally collab again next time. I just need to, like, break my dad's car or something. Don't worry, he's rich."
Toji blinked.
And then, in one motion, smooth, effortless, like picking up a stray kitten...he grabbed the streamer by the collar and lifted him off the ground with one hand, his other still tucked casually in his pocket.
"Tell me more about this... streaming stuff."
The kid dangled there like a sock puppet. "Y-Yes, sir! Of course, sir!" he squeaked.
Toji dropped him gently, or rather, let him plop onto the sidewalk like a mildly bruised apple.
"Start talking."
Note: I'm trying to bring in Viral Hit, and yes, Manager Kim will be there in the future too