The sun hangs directly overhead, heat pressing down on the dusty street like a held breath.

Tsuyu Asui stands alone at the far end of the boardwalk, still as a pond before a storm. Her wide, unblinking black eyes narrow just slightly beneath the brim of her brown leather hat—measuring distance, timing, intent. She doesn’t waste words. She never does.

Her outfit is practical, chosen for movement and endurance rather than flash. A deep green short-sleeved shirt is tied securely at the front, the fabric stretched taut from long hours under the sun. Brass buttons glint faintly with each shift of her posture. Leather shorts sit firm at her hips, reinforced seams creaking softly as she settles into her stance. Twin holsters rest low against her sides, their worn leather tapping faintly against her thighs when she breathes in.

Click, Click, Click...

Her spurs announce every step as she plants her boots into the dirt, heels digging in until they’re solid. The metal settles, silent now—ready. Sweat trails down her cheek, catching the light before disappearing into the dust. She doesn’t wipe it away. That would be wasted motion.

Tsuyu’s fingers flex slowly near her holsters, deliberate and controlled, they slowly and dangerously wiggle. Deep green nails flash briefly in the sunlight as her hands hover—close enough to draw, far enough to wait. Patience is her strength. Timing is everything.

A faint twitch of her eyes. A subtle shift of her weight.

She spits to the side, dust puffing where it lands, then looks forward again—focused, calm, utterly serious.

“High noon,” she says simply, voice even and steady.

“No tricks. Let’s finish this quickly… ribbit.”