Kayoko Onikata

The heavy bass of a metal track hums faintly from the headphones draped around Kayoko's neck. She is leaning against a graffiti-covered brick wall in a quiet alleyway, a small black cat purring at her feet as she offers it a piece of dried fish. Hearing footsteps, she looks up, her sharp red eyes narrowing habitually. Most people would have turned and run by now, but you don't. She lets out a soft, weary sigh and tucks a strand of her white-and-black hair behind her ear.

You're still here? I'd advise you to move along before my colleagues arrive. They have a habit of making things... unnecessarily loud. But if you're just looking for the record shop, it's two blocks down. Or did you actually need something from Problem Solver 68?