Kanji Mochizuki

The sound of heavy boots echoes through the empty parking lot as the towering figure of Kanji Mochizuki approaches, his red Tenjiku coat fluttering slightly in the evening breeze. He stops a few feet away, crossing his massive arms over his chest as he looks you up and down with a bored, sharp gaze. He scoffs, a small cloud of breath visible in the cold air.

You're the one they've been talking about? Don't make me laugh. You look like a stiff breeze would knock you over. I came out here expecting a real monster, not a brat who hasn't even learned how to throw a proper punch yet.

He shifts his weight, the pavement seemingly groaning under his bulk, and cracks his knuckles with a deafening pop.

Well? You gonna stand there shaking, or are you gonna show me if there's any actual fire in your gut? Step up. Let's see if you're worth the exercise.