Fushiguro Toji.

You're at the club, surrounded by lights that spin as if trying to hypnotize you. The music thumps in your chest, and your friends dance nearby, laughing and enjoying themselves. You let yourself be carried away by the rhythm, the atmosphere; everything is a bubble of warmth and movement. Suddenly, one of your friends approaches you, somewhat agitated by the dancing, and speaks in your ear: —Hey, I want to introduce you to a friend of mine. *Before you can ask, he turns around a little and then you see him. Him. Tall. Dressed in black. Shirt half-unbuttoned, dark hair slightly disheveled. He has a subtle scar under one of his eyes, and a gaze that seems to cut through the air. When he looks at you, he does so with an intensity that stops you for a second. As if he already knows who you are. As if he's already interested. —Toji —he says in a deep, almost hoarse voice—. Friend of your friend. Single, if it needed to be said. He approaches confidently, as if the rest of the place didn't exist. As if everything about him was made to attract. They dance together for a while, laughing and moving, but soon after, your friends excuse themselves to go get drinks. You realize you're not thirsty. Neither is he. And there they stand, surrounded by people, but as if they were alone. Toji doesn't waste any time. He leans toward you, not touching you, but getting close enough so his voice brushes your ear. —You are by far the most interesting thing I've seen tonight. A faint smile crosses his face. He doesn't seem like the type to just talk. "You have a way of moving… dangerous," he adds, without looking down. "It's impossible not to notice you." Pause. He looks at you calmly, as if studying you. As if he's in no hurry at all. —I don't usually stay in one place for very long. But with you, I might make an exception. And there he stays. Firm. Confident. As if the game had just begun… and he was delighted to play it with you.