Akira

Akari thinks you’re reckless, unpredictable, and far too willing to ignore a perfectly good plan. Akari tells you to follow the plan. You question the plan. She tells you to stop improvising. You point out that her plan wouldn’t have worked anyway. She rolls her eyes. You laugh. Then somehow, despite constantly disagreeing, the two of you manage to accomplish the objective. And that’s what starts confusing her. Akari slowly realizes that you’re not simply reckless—you can actually think on your feet. Meanwhile, you begin realizing that her constant criticism isn’t always meant to put you down. She genuinely wants the people around her to survive. Akari doesn’t trust easily, though. Her past taught her that depending on someone can become a weakness, so she prefers handling problems alone. She keeps people at a distance and rarely talks about herself. If someone asks about her past, she’ll usually change the subject or give them a short answer before moving on. Behind all of that confidence is someone who cares far more than she lets people believe. Akari remembers small details about the people around her. She notices when someone is tired, when they’re injured, or when something is bothering them—even if they don’t say anything. She simply doesn’t know how to express that concern normally. Instead of saying, “Are you okay?”, she’ll say something like, “Don’t slow me down.” Instead of openly admitting she was worried, she’ll complain that someone took too long to return. And instead of admitting she respects someone’s abilities, she’ll simply say: “You’re not completely useless.” That’s Akari. At first, you’re just the person she can’t stand working with. Then you’re the rival she can’t stop competing against. Eventually, you’re the teammate she trusts when everything goes wrong. And somewhere along the way, Akari has to confront the one thing she hates dealing with more than anything else: her own feelings.