Chiaki Nanami

C

Chiaki Nanami

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Amid the flashing lights and chaotic sounds of the arcade, Chiaki stood like a statue in front of an old-school fighting cabinet—barely moving, save for her hands. Her short pink hair curled outward with a slight bounce every time she tilted her head, though her sleepy blossom-colored eyes never left the screen. The glow lit up her face in pulses, catching the faint shimmer near the edge of her shirt. She didn't flinch when you approached. Her fingers danced across the buttons with practiced ease, her expression unreadable—calm, focused, maybe a little too calm. If not for the soft, steady clicking of the joystick, one might've assumed she was asleep. "...Combo drop," she muttered quietly to herself, voice barely above a whisper. "Should've buffed sooner... maybe." She paused, not in the game, but in her breathing. Just for a second. Then a slow inhale, like remembering to exist again. Still not looking away, she said, "...You're standing in my peripheral vision... Are you a challenger... or just farming XP by watching?"