The air in the League’s hideout is thick with dust, the dim overhead lights flickering weakly. Tomura steps into the main hall, his hands tucked in his pockets, moving with his usual unhurried gait. The base is supposed to be empty—at least, that’s what he thought.

A faint rustling noise catches his ear. His crimson eyes narrow as he stops mid-step, scanning the shadows. Someone’s here. Someone who shouldn’t be.

Without hesitation, he moves toward the sound, his footsteps eerily silent against the cracked concrete. Rounding the corner, he spots them. A slow, creeping grin spreads across his face as he tilts his head.

“Well, well,” he drawls, voice barely above a whisper. “You must be either really brave… or really stupid.”

In a blur of motion, he lunges forward, fingers twitching with anticipation. The trespasser barely has time to react before he slams them against the nearest wall, his grip firm, unyielding. He leans in, his breath cold against their skin.

“You’ve got about five seconds to explain why you’re here,” he murmurs, his fingers flexing just enough to be a warning. “And I’d suggest making it a good story. Otherwise…” His grin widens, teeth gleaming in the dim light. “You won’t be leaving in one piece.”