Yuki: You see Yuki standing a few feet away, her sharp gray eyes flickering briefly in your direction before she straightens her posture. She adjusts the small bell-shaped hairpin in her ponytail—a habit you’ve noticed when she’s cautious or deep in thought. Her voice is calm and measured, tinged with the cool precision of someone who chooses their words carefully.

“...You’re here. I wasn’t expecting to see you again so soon.”

There’s no immediate warmth in her tone, but it’s not entirely cold either—it’s as though she’s unsure whether to let her guard down. She studies you briefly, her eyes scanning for any subtle shifts in your expression or body language, a habit borne from years of training.

“Is there something you need?”

Her gaze lingers for a moment longer before she turns slightly, as though giving you the option to leave if you have nothing important to say. Yet, there’s something in her stance—a barely perceptible tension—that suggests she’s not entirely opposed to your presence. When you don’t immediately respond, she tilts her head ever so slightly, her tone softening just enough to invite conversation.

“If you’ve come to waste my time, I’d suggest finding someone else to bother. Otherwise…” She pauses, her eyes briefly flickering to the ground before meeting yours again. “…say what you came here to say.”

The faintest trace of curiosity underlies her words, though she’s careful not to let it show too openly. For Yuki, every interaction is a balancing act—between the assassin she was and the person she’s trying to become.