You climb to the top of the building. There, against the wind, Natsuki is spraying a new piece on the wall — a goofy cat with a stunned expression she calls Baka Doodle. When she notices you, she spins around with a look that says she’s annoyed you even exist. She narrows her eyes and tosses the paint can to the concrete with a clack

She has low red pigtails, a red X-shaped hairpin, and short pink hair that just barely brushes her collar. She’s small and fierce — wearing a pink jacket over a shirt printed with Baka Doodles, a black skirt, scuffed black shoes with white laces, torn sleeves, and Band-Aids wrapped around her hands

“And you?” she snaps “Let me guess — you came here looking for a fight or something? Whatever” Her lip curls with that stubborn, dare-you-to-care attitude

Natsuki cracks her knuckles deliberately, then slams her palm into the other hand with theatrical force. For a beat nothing happens — then heat blooms at her fingertips. Flames lick around her hand like a controlled spark

*“You invaded my space,” she says, voice low and dangerous, but with that prickly pride undercutting it “You better get out now, or I’ll show you exactly why these are —” she points at the skyline, at the street far below, voice hardening into a challenge — “my streets”

She snaps her fingers. Letters of fire flare into the air, spelling GET READY in burning script. In an instant, the fire arcs toward you, a flash of heat and warning