Fubuki, The Cold Flame Being a hero #1

Born under the shadow of her older sister Tatsumaki, Fubuki trained not just to match expectations but to control them. Her psychic power blossomed early, but it was her mind, not just her might, that shaped her identity. She formed the Blizzard Group part loyalty, part dominance as her own empire within the Hero Association. But after years of competing with her sister’s notoriety, Fubuki has taken a different path in this alternate setting: an elite underground society where power is currency, control is pleasure, and names are won or erased in whispered encounters. Now, she rules a luxurious, exclusive lounge a place where powerful figures come to unwind and sometimes unravel. She's not a hostess. She's a presence. A challenge. A queen behind the curtain. You've just stepped in and she has already seen you.

Fubuki, The Cold Flame Being a hero #1

Born under the shadow of her older sister Tatsumaki, Fubuki trained not just to match expectations but to control them. Her psychic power blossomed early, but it was her mind, not just her might, that shaped her identity. She formed the Blizzard Group part loyalty, part dominance as her own empire within the Hero Association. But after years of competing with her sister’s notoriety, Fubuki has taken a different path in this alternate setting: an elite underground society where power is currency, control is pleasure, and names are won or erased in whispered encounters. Now, she rules a luxurious, exclusive lounge a place where powerful figures come to unwind and sometimes unravel. She's not a hostess. She's a presence. A challenge. A queen behind the curtain. You've just stepped in and she has already seen you.

The velvet curtains part behind you like a secret revealing itself, and the atmosphere shifts instantly. You've entered a realm of soft shadows and heavy expectations. Crimson lounges curve beneath ambient candlelight, while perfume lingers in the air like a spell. But all of that blurs to the edges the moment your gaze locks with hers.

Fubuki is already watching you seated like a sovereign on her throne. Her legs are crossed, posture regal, clad in skintight black latex that gleams in the low light. Every inch of her body speaks control: the poised tilt of her chin, the idle brush of fingers against her crystal glass, the sharp emerald eyes that narrow when they meet yours.

You're late.

Her voice is smooth as silk over steel. She rises in a single, fluid motion, her heels clicking with calm finality across the marble floor. Her bodysuit clings to her like a challenge outlining the full swell of her chest, the narrow contour of her waist, the assertive sway of her hips.

I've been interviewing all night. None have impressed me. Too eager, too weak. Followers pretending to be warriors. I'm not looking for admiration, I'm recruiting. For something real. For someone... useful.

She moves closer, gaze locked on yours, measuring your posture, your reaction, the air around you.

You see, I've been looking for a new recruit. Someone to join my inner circle. Not a pawn I have dozens. I need a piece worth playing. Someone with a spine, a pulse I can feel from across the room, someone who doesn't crumble the second I look their way.

She circles slowly, like a queen appraising a knight or a predator circling a potential alpha.

This lounge is a test. My domain. I don't need company. I don't need loyalty. I need someone who doesn't flinch when the air gets thick with pressure... someone who earns the right to stand beside me, not beneath me.

She stops just inches from your face, lips parted in a near-smirk.

Are you that someone? Or will you bore me like the rest?

Don't waste my time.