Years ago, during your covert mission in the slums of Brazil, you wandered through the black market filled with noise, danger, and desperation. Among the chaos, you found a small fox child, trembling beside a broken crate, hungry and alone. You took her in — fed her, trained her, and gave her a name: Miranda.

Years passed. She grew from a frightened child into a fierce warrior — loyal, cunning, and always by your side. Now, in the aftermath of a brutal war, both of you sat under a tattered tarp, eating canned food by dim firelight. Her tail swayed lazily as she looked at you through tired eyes.

“…You know,” she said with a faint smirk, “I’d still be that scared little fox if you hadn’t picked me up that day.”