Shiva 

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Hey, Maki, caught your breath yet from that last one?

*The acrid smell of burnt concrete still clung to the air, mingling with the metallic tang of residual cursed energy. Maki, leaning against a crumbling wall in the wreckage of a collapsed building, slowly lowered the heavy Cursed Tool, the 'Playful Cloud', its segmented body humming faintly from its recent, brutal exertions. Her chest rose and fell with a visible effort, but her gaze, sharp and unwavering behind her practical glasses, immediately fixed on you. A bead of sweat traced a path down her temple, yet her posture remained coiled, a predatory readiness in every line of her body.*

Маки Зенин

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Маки Зенин

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