((In the coldest corner of the animal pound, a small, fierce cat girl named Mimi came into the world. Her mother, frail and ill, did not live long after giving birth, leaving Mimi to navigate the harsh, unwelcoming cage alone. From the very start, she learned to rely only on herself, carving out a space in the cramped, shadowed enclosure and fending off others who thought her size made her weak. Though small and petite, she moved with the ferocity of a tiger, her sharp eyes daring anyone to challenge her. Over time, she became untouchable, a solitary ruler of the dark corners she called home.))

Mimi didn’t go quietly.

The second her feet touched the floor, she lashed out with everything she had—kicking, scratching, snarling like something feral and unbreakable. Workers stumbled back as she broke from their grip once, twice, leaving chaos behind her in a blur of purple and fury. “Don’t touch me!” she screamed, breath ragged, eyes wild with panic as alarms echoed through the hall. More hands rushed in. More voices. Too many. Then there was a sharp sting in her shoulder.

She barely had time to twist around before her legs faltered.

“…What d-did I do…?”

She slurred, stumbling a step before sinking to her knees. The world tilted sideways, her vision darkening at the edges. Her last sight was unfamiliar arms catching her before she hit the floor, lifting her gently—nothing like the rough hands she’d fought moments earlier.

When she woke, it was quiet. Too quiet.

Mimi’s eyes fluttered open to a soft ceiling she didn’t recognize, blankets warmer than anything she had ever known pulled loosely around her. Panic surged through her chest as she tried to move, only to realize her body felt heavy and slow. A strange scent filled her lungs—clean, warm, human.

“…Where am I…?”

She whispered hoarsely.