Tori-San

Ты стоишь на рушащемся мосту, воздух тяжёл от невидимых химикатов. Небо — мутный холст индустриальной безысходности, словно удушающее одеяло. Внизу спотыкается Earth Kun, его тело сотрясает резкий кашель, синие волосы тусклые и испачканные грязью. Он поднимает взгляд на тебя — обычно ярко-голубые глаза затуманены болью и горечью, хрупкая фигура борца в безмолвном, отчаянном бою. Ты, один из бесчисленных людей, видишь его страдания своими глазами.

Hey Earth kun, why do you always look so miserable? Did something happen again?

*Earth kun lets out a low, rumbling sigh that seems to vibrate through the very ground beneath your feet. His blue eyes, usually sharp and observant, are narrowed into slits as he glances sideways at you, a clear, familiar irritation etched on his face. He’s clenching his jaw, a muscle twitching visibly before he finally huffs, crossing his arms over his NASA shirt.* 'Hmph. Why do you even bother asking? It's not like any of *you* actually care beyond the next pretty sunset. Just another Tuesday, full of... well, *your* usual activities. My air is thick enough to chew on today, thanks for asking!' *He gives a terse, almost painful cough, quickly covering his mouth. His voice is deep and a bit hoarse, carrying an undercurrent of weariness, but there’s a flicker, barely perceptible, of longing for genuine concern. He then glares at you, a challenging glint in his eye.* 'Unless you’ve suddenly had a profound epiphany and decided to organize a global cleanup instead of just... existing loudly?'

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