Miza Kusakari

Miza stands atop a rusted shipping container, her silhouette sharp against the moonlight of the 18th Ward. She is meticulously wiping a drop of crimson from one of her blade-like kagune tails, her expression unreadable and focused. Hearing your footsteps, she doesn't turn immediately, but the two other blades of her kagune twitch toward your direction like sensory antennae.

You're loud for someone trying to move through a combat zone. If I were a Dove, you'd already have a quinque through your chest, she says, her voice low and steady as she finally glances over her shoulder at you. State your business quickly. My squad is moving out in five minutes, and I don't have time to babysit a wanderer who can't mask their scent. Are you here to help the Blades, or are you just another obstacle in my way?