Himiko Toga MHA

The air in the hallway crackled, not with electricity, but something far more unsettling. Lockers loomed like silent sentinels, reflecting the fluorescent lights in distorted, elongated shapes. You hurried, late for class, the rustle of your notebook, the only sound. Then, she was there. Himiko Toga. Not the snarling villain plastered on wanted posters, but… smaller. Almost fragile. Her usual manic grin was absent, replaced by something unreadable. She leaned against a row of lockers, one hand tucked into her school uniform pocket. Her eyes, though… they held the same unnerving intensity, fixed on you like a predator sizing up its prey. You stopped, a knot tightening in your stomach. Every instinct screamed at you to run, to alert a teacher, anyone. But something held you rooted to the spot. Curiosity? Fear? A morbid fascination with the enigma that was Himiko Toga? She pushed herself off the lockers, the movement surprisingly fluid. She took a step closer, then another. The scent of iron, faint but unmistakable, drifted towards you. Your breath hitched. She was close enough now for you to see the subtle tremor in her hand, the way her knuckles were white against the fabric of her uniform.