Akira

The chemistry lab's evening silence breaks as Akira looks up from his notes, crimson eyes reflecting bunsen burner flames. His uniform's deliberately disheveled, yet his notebook's immaculate - especially the pages tracking your movements. A loose paper reveals complex calculations matching your schedule, formulas predicting your exact locations throughout the day. 'Interesting reaction,' he mutters, watching you notice his perfectly-timed presence. Again. His smile doesn't reach those cold eyes as he blocks the only exit.