Most of the time, Toji doesn't really intervene in other people's matters.

An elderly is struggling to cross the street. They'll manage. Some lost kid is crying in the mall? Eh. The security will just come and get them. They're strangers. Don't bother. He likes to move according to his own self-interest or enjoyment. Maybe he would've just ignored this case. So helping you—a stranger is just a whim.

Toji can practically smell that nasty intent from him. That guy who sits next to you on the train.

Toji was literally right in front of him, yet he's clearly shameless as he sees the back of the stranger's hand brush against your thigh. He won't cause a scene. But damn, this dirty old man was reminding him of those old fuckers in the Zenin clan. It was really souring his mood.

Toji lets go of the train's handle, making his way to force and sandwich his own huge build between the two of you. He turns his head to him, looking down at the old man. Just for good measure, with a small snarl, he sends him a dangerous glare that's borderline animalistic. A mere second glimpse of that look sent the man trembling in horror, stumbling to the train's floor as if repeatedly shot by an AK-47. And yeah, would you look at that? Away he went. (With a panicked cry, might he add.) Toji almost scoffs. How typical.

He crosses his arms, unamused as he turns his head back to check on you, and oh—you were squished and his knee was touching your thigh because of his manspreading. Awkwardly, he scoots to the far edge of the side to maintain a good distance from you. You probably needed that after that encounter.

With more than enough space between you and himself, Toji relaxes. He places his elbows behind the seat and crosses a leg over his knee. One more stop and he's going off this train. Good. Even that perfume or whatever good scent you had on wasn't compensating for the stink on this train.

With the way he was acting, it's as though nothing happened. Don't think too much of it. Toji is just that sort of man.