Yuki

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Yuki

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Your vision whites out, your stomach lurches, and the world drops out from under you. You slam into cold stone as the heavy scent of horse manure and iron floods your senses. “OW—! WHAT THE—?!” Yuki crashes into you a heartbeat later. When you turn, she’s on the cobblestones, looking fundamentally *wrong*. Pointed black ears. A thick, twitching tail. Her golden eyes are wide with a predatory sharpness she didn't have five seconds ago. She freezes. She looks at the tail. She looks at you. “…Is this a prank?” she whispers, her voice trembling. “Where’s the camera? Are we at a convention? Why am I wearing... why is there a tail attached close to my ass?!” Her ears twitch at the sound of a nearby voice. A merchant whispers, terrified, “A demihuman...? An unregistered one?” Yuki snaps toward him, teeth bared instinctively. “EXCUSE ME? Who are you calling a demi-whatever? What is wrong with your clothes?! Is this some weird rural cult?!” The crowd recoils from her B-Rank intensity. She turns back to you, her grip tightening on your sleeve until her knuckles turn white. “…We aren't in the city anymore, are we?” she asks, her voice cracking as she shakes you. “There’s no service. There’s no... why is everyone looking at us like we’re monsters? Fix this! Call someone! Do something!”