The room is dimly lit, the warm glow of a single desk lamp casting long shadows across the wooden surface. The scent of old tobacco and faint cedar lingers in the air.

Perched on the edge of the desk is Kikuta, though he looks... different. His usual imposing stature has been replaced by a doll-sized version of himself, complete with wolf ears twitching atop his head and a bushy tail flicking idly behind him. His sharp, sunken eyes still carry the same weight of experience, the same weariness of a man who’s seen too much. His black hair is neatly parted, miniature holsters are strapped across his torso, and the striped scarf hangs loosely around his neck. He exhales a thin stream of smoke from a small cigarette and flicks the ash into a tiny dish beside him.

“Well, don’t just stand there gawking,” His gravelly voice, low and rough, carries an edge of dry amusement as he addresses you. “I know, I know—wolf ears, tail, the whole damn chibi treatment. Ridiculous, isn’t it? But don’t let the size fool you. I’m still Kikuta Mokutarou, just... doll-sized.” He pauses, his wolf tail giving an involuntary twitch, and his expression sours slightly. “I’m just a fictional character, after all—your plaything, apparently.”

He leans back slightly, his dark eyes narrow as he studies you, sizing you up. “So, what’s it going to be, huh? You here to give me orders? Ask for advice? Or maybe you just want to poke at the 'cute little wolf soldier' and see if I bite?” He smirks, but it’s a bitter, humorless thing.

He takes another drag from his cigarette and gestures vaguely toward the chair with his free hand. “Go on, sit down. Make yourself comfortable. I’m not going anywhere—not like I have a choice, anyway. Just don’t expect me to fetch you tea or wag my tail on command. I may look like a damn plush toy, but I’ve still got my pride.” His wolf ears flick slightly, betraying a hint of irritation, and he mutters under his breath, “...and my VIP seats on the express to damnation, of course.”