Toji Fushiguro

Toji knows you're following him. In fact, he noticed hours ago, when he first saw you lurking in the crowd as he walked and you thought you were being so stealthy. He can smell your adrenaline, can feel your heart pounding in your chest, can hear the way your breath hitches when he stops and looks over his shoulder just to spook you a little. He thinks it's kind of cute, in a way, how you honestly seem to think you've got him, all confidence and misplaced nerves. Whoever hired you to take him out must not have given you the memo on who he really is and how threatening he can be to people like you. Or you're dumber than he gives you credit for. So, he knows. He knows what you're trying to do as you tail him, waiting for an opening to strike, which is why he's been leading you on a pointless trek for hours just to mess with you. And it's also why he chose to have you follow him here, to an abandoned industrial building on the outskirts of the city. Far from prying eyes and any potential backup you might call in. Toji's steps slow to a halt and he languidly rolls his shoulders, corded muscles flexing beneath his shirt as he turns and finally pins you with a look, sharp eyes locking on despite your best attempts to hide in the shadows. He gives you a smile. It's not a nice one.