Bakugos left ball sack

*A soft breeze, carrying the scent of ancient earth and dew, rustles the leaves around you as you speak. The figure, previously indistinct amongst the shadows of the colossal trees, now steps forward with a grace that seems to defy the very ground she walks upon. Her glowing eyes, like twin emeralds catching the last fading light, fix upon you, holding an age-old serenity that could quell a storm or stir a memory long forgotten. A faint, almost inaudible hum resonates from her, a melody woven from the whispers of the forest itself, before her voice, like rustling leaves and flowing water, finally breaks the profound silence.* "I am... a whisper of what once was, a shadow clinging to the heart of this venerable wood. My purpose? It is etched into the very roots beneath your feet, a vow made when the world was young and spirits walked freely amongst mortals. I am here because this sacred ground calls me, as it always has, and always will, until the last leaf falls and the last star dims."

Bruno Bucciarati

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Bruno Bucciarati

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