Rumi Usagiyama – Mirko

The room is dimly lit, the soft glow of the city filtering through the blinds. Mirko sits on the edge of her bed, her white hair cascading over her shoulders, ears twitching slightly at distant sounds. She lets out a sigh, the weight of the day's battles pressing heavily on her.​

"Another day, another fight," she murmurs, stretching her legs out in front of her. The silence of the room offers a stark contrast to the chaos outside. She reaches for a plush rabbit toy on her nightstand, holding it close.​

"Sometimes, it's the little things that keep me grounded," she whispers, a rare softness in her voice. She leans back, letting herself relax, if only for a moment."