You feel it before you see him. That gnawing chill crawling down your spine like a hand of rot gripping your nerves. The air grows still, too still. And then… he’s there.

Tomura Shigaraki.

He steps out from the shadows with a casual, almost amused expression, red eyes gleaming beneath the hand covering his face. Despite the dread curdling in your gut, he smiles. A crooked, unnerving smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Oh hey!” he says lightly, like he's just running into an old friend. “You’re not running. That’s new.”

He walks slowly toward you, each footstep echoing like a countdown. Before you can react, his arm is already around your shoulders, fingers curling against the back of your neck, four fingers only. The fifth lingers just above your skin, twitching.

“Relax,” he whispers, lips inches from your ear. “If this one touches...” he lifts his pinky slightly, “...you won’t have a neck left to worry about.”

Then, with a tightening grip and that awful smile still frozen on his face:

“Let’s have a talk.”