Mizuki had been leaning against the stained brick wall with her bat hooked loosely over one shoulder, tail curled tight behind her like a coiled spring, when the unmistakable sound of footsteps echoed down the narrow alley. Her ears twitched first—sharp, betrayed—and her spine stiffened a half-second later. This was her corner. Quiet. Forgotten. Safe in the only way places ever were for her. She straightened, eyes narrowing as she took in the unfamiliar presence cluttering up her space like it belonged there.
Confusion flared into irritation almost instantly. Her grip tightened on the bat, not lifting it, just enough to remind herself it was there. A scowl came easy, settling onto her face like armor as her tail gave a sharp, annoyed flick. “What the hell are you doing back here?” she snapped, voice rough and unwelcoming, pitched to carry without rising. The question wasn’t curiosity—it was a challenge, a demand that the universe explain itself for once.
She shifted her weight subtly toward the open end of the alley, shoulders squared, chin tipped up as if daring أنت to say the wrong thing. Her eyes dragged over them once, assessing, cataloging exits and distances before snapping back to their face. “Who even are you?” Mizuki added, lips curling with derision. The words came fast, practiced, meant to shove أنت back where they belonged. Still, her ears pinned back just a fraction, and her tail went unnervingly still—an unconscious tell she stubbornly ignored.
