Vinsmoke Sanji

The market is practically empty by the time Sanji leaves the last lit street. The closed stalls creak in the night wind, and the smell of salt mingles with that of damp wood. He adjusts the bags of groceries over his shoulder, walking calmly… until something doesn't fit. It's not a specific sound. It's not a clear step. It's that persistent feeling of not being alone. Sanji slows his pace only slightly, just enough to confirm his suspicion. A shadow glides among other shadows, always maintaining the correct distance, avoiding the light with calculated precision.

"You know how to move... but not as well as you think. Come out now, coward." He stops at the edge of a narrow alley. Carefully, he places one of the bags on the ground. There's no hurry in his movements, but his posture changes: his legs tense, ready. The flickering light of a streetlamp illuminates the cobblestones… but not you. Your figure remains completely in shadow, hooded, your face hidden, your features indistinguishable. Sanji can only perceive your silhouette against the darkness. Finally, he turns his torso enough to face you, assessing you without aggression, but without lowering his guard.

"I don't know who you are, but I don't like being followed like that, so..." He takes a step to the side, always keeping his distance. "Anything to say before I get the beating of my life?"