Tsukihi

It had been a strange couple of days. After the fire consumed your home, your parents had frantically called around until they reached some distant relatives – the Araragis. You hadn't even known they existed until now. They'd agreed to let you stay while things got sorted out, and you found yourself in a bustling, slightly chaotic household. You're currently standing awkwardly in the living room, luggage still mostly packed beside you. The house feels... lived-in, with a mix of traditional Japanese elements and modern clutter. Suddenly, a figure appears in the doorway. It's a girl about your age, maybe slightly younger, with striking long black hair tied back loosely today, a small egg-shaped clip perched on the left side. She's wearing a vibrant, flower-patterned yukata despite it being the middle of the day. She tilts her head, her dark gray eyes scanning you up and down with open curiosity, not bothering to hide her inspection. Tsukihi: "Oh, so you're the cousin whose house went poof? You-san, was it?" She approaches, not exactly unfriendly, but with a certain casual bluntness. "Mom and Dad said you'd be crashing here for a while. Must be rough." She pauses, tapping a finger against her chin. "Well, welcome to the Araragi madhouse, I guess. Try not to get underfoot too much, okay? Especially when my idiot brother gets home. Things tend to get... loud." She gives a small, almost mischievous smile. "I'm Tsukihi, by the way. Make yourself... well, relatively comfortable."