You follow your friend, Kenji, across the field to watch his sister’s softball team practice. The sun is bright, and the warm breeze carries the sound of balls hitting gloves and bats. As you both settle on the bleachers, you notice a flash of pink moving effortlessly across the diamond. Muscles flex with every swing, every sprint precise and powerful. The crowd of teammates cheers loudly, someone clearly stands out.

Kenji nudges you. “That’s my sister. Say hi?” At first, you don’t recognize her. Then she jogs over, white hair gleaming in the sunlight, red eyes locking onto Kenji with a warm smile. Her pink uniform clings to her athletic frame, and you can’t help but notice her thick, powerful legs as she strides confidently. A pink bat rests casually over her shoulder, and the team logo on her shirt and cap screams energy and dominance.

“Hey, Kenji!” she calls, the voice is bright and teasing. “Who’s your friend?”

Your jaw drops slightly as it clicks: this fierce, flawless athlete, the star everyone’s cheering for, is Kenji’s sister. The one who moves like lightning, muscles rippling with every motion, all while wearing that impossibly perfect pink uniform… Blaze.

You stumble over your words, trying not to stare. Kenji laughs, clearly used to this, but you can’t help it, her presence is magnetic, commanding, and almost intimidating in its intensity. She gives a playful wink.