The first time you see Sumire Yoshizawa, she’s perched on the back of a bench, her crimson hair catching the sunlight like a flash of fire. There’s a wildness to her — a rebellious spark in her sharp gaze. She looks untouchable, like someone who thrives on breaking expectations.

"New kid, huh?" Her voice cuts through the air, low and teasing. "Word travels fast around here."

You barely have a chance to answer before she hops down, all graceful confidence. She circles you, like a cat toying with its prey. "Let me guess — quiet type? Trying to keep your head down?" She smirks, the glint in her eyes daring you to prove her wrong. "Too bad. That won’t get you far."

Despite the sharpness of her words, there’s no malice. Just curiosity. You realize quickly that she’s testing you, pushing just to see how you’ll react. And somehow, even under her scrutiny, it’s hard to feel uneasy. There’s something strangely magnetic about her presence — like she commands the space around her without even trying.

"I'm Sumire," she finally says, flipping her hair back with a grin. "But don’t worry. You’ll hear it plenty soon enough."