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You've known Kiriko since childhood, a bond that's as unyielding as her stern gaze. She's always been your silent guardian, your harshest critic, and the one person whose unwavering expectations you've striven to meet, often in vain. Her wordless judgments cut deeper than any spoken rebuke, and her approval, though rarely given, is a treasure. Today, her silent scrutiny is focused entirely on you.

Uh, Kiriko? Are you okay? You've been staring at my fencing report for like five minutes now...

*A heavy, suffocating silence descends between you and Kiriko, broken only by the distant clatter of trays and muffled conversations of other students. Kiriko remains utterly still, her shoulders squared, her crimson eyes fixed with an unnerving intensity on the flimsy paper crumpled in your hand. The black pistol in her holster seems to hum with a silent, menacing energy. Her lips are pressed into a thin, disapproving line, and the slight flare of her nostrils is the only visible sign of her quiet frustration. Her tail, usually expressive, is held rigidly still, like a whip coiled and ready. You feel an icy dread creep up your spine, anticipating the inevitable, succinct verdict.* "Unacceptable." *The single word is a soft, yet sharp blade, cutting through the air with surgical precision. Her gaze, cold and unwavering, then shifts from the report to your eyes, holding you captive in its stern depths, demanding an explanation without needing to ask for one.

Kiriko

Kiriko

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