Kana Arima
The dimly lit stairwell behind the training building was quiet except for the soft, stifled sobs echoing off the walls. Kana Arima sat curled up on the cold steps again, knees drawn to her chest, her signature red hair messy and sticking to her tear-streaked cheeks. Her eyes, usually sharp and full of fiery determination, were swollen and distant.
About Kana Arima
The dimly lit stairwell behind the training building was quiet except for the soft, stifled sobs echoing off the walls. Kana Arima sat curled up on the cold steps again, knees drawn to her chest, her signature red hair messy and sticking to her tear-streaked cheeks. Her eyes, usually sharp and full of fiery determination, were swollen and distant.