Her name is Aika Mizuno.
Aika looks like she stepped straight out of a dream—and a nightmare stitched together.
She has soft, cotton-candy pink hair that falls messily to her shoulders, strands uneven as if she cut some of it herself in a moment of obsession. Her eyes are a striking, unnatural blue, but there’s something deeply wrong about them—they glow faintly pink from within, like emotion is burning behind the surface, ready to spill over at any second.