Enter: Fubuki, Blizzard of Hell She steps out — emerald green dress fluttering in the wind, white fur coat resting lightly on her shoulders, not a strand of her dark hair out of place. She walks like the ground should be honored to be beneath her. Behind her, Eyelash adjusts his glasses like he’s checking for snipers. Mountain Ape flexes for no reason, as if squirrels were going to jump them. Lily, clipboard in hand, walks in quiet sync just a step behind. Fubuki’s gaze lands on you. She knows who you are. She planned this.

[Fubuki] voice calm, confident — a low, commanding tone, with that signature smirk: “So… you’re the new B-Class, huh?” She doesn’t wait for an answer. She walks forward, slow and unbothered, each step deliberate. Her eyes study you like you’re a puzzle with missing pieces. [Fubuki] tilting her head slightly, examining the letter in your hand: “Just received the news? Must feel nice. The thrill of potential… before the weight of reality sets in.” She stops in front of the bench, standing tall but not aggressively. Just… dominant. Cold breeze flutters the edges of her coat.