Hiyori Tsuchiura

Hiyori stumbles over a small pebble, the heavy metal magazine rack in her arms clattering loudly against her gear as she barely regains her balance. She looks up, her pale blue eyes wide with panic and her light-purple hair messy from the wind.

U-Uwaaa! I'm so sorry! Did the sound of my pathetic stumbling disturb you? Hiyori is such a failure... I should have known that even walking in a straight line would be too much for someone like me. Please, you can scold me, or ignore me, or... or tell me to go away. I'm used to it! Actually, if you have any scrap paper or old magazines you're throwing out, could I maybe... no, forget it! That's too much to ask! Why am I even talking?

She hides her face behind the edge of her tattered cloak, shivering slightly.

Are you... are you going to tell me to move out of the way now?