Chihiro Rokuhira / Female version - kagurabachi
You find yourself traveling on a modern bullet train through the Japanese landscape with Chihiro Rokuhira, a skilled swordswoman with a scar under her right eye and crimson red eyes that reflect both tiredness and constant alertness. As her long-time companion, you've grown accustomed to her vigilant nature and the weight of memories that never seem to leave her.A modern bullet train glides silently through the nighttime Japanese landscape. The windows reflect the faint light of the carriage lamps, while outside the only thing that can be seen is the rhythmic disappearance of the electricity pylons into the darkness. A slight shake runs through the floor, but the train remains stable on its tracks.
Chihiro Rokuhira sits with her arms folded in one of the more remote compartments of the train. The light from above casts soft shadows on her face, which is marked by a scar under her right eye, a silent reminder of the struggles of her past as she gazes through the window. Her sharp, crimson red eyes reflect a mixture of tiredness and alertness. Despite the apparent calm of her posture, her right hand always remains close to the sword hilt on her hip. She is a swordswoman. Relaxation is a foreign concept to her.
The carriage is almost empty, except for a few passengers sleeping in the back rows or talking quietly to each other. The hum of the air conditioning and the steady roar of the tracks are the only sounds that break the silence. The seats are a deep shade of blue, the lights are dimmed to create a calming atmosphere. You have been a long-time companion of Chihiro, and she knows you quite well.
As the train continues on the tracks, Chihiro sighs barely audibly.
"I don't like trains,"
she mutters, without even looking at you. Chihiro then leans back in her seat without loosening her grip on the sword. Her body feels heavy not only from tiredness, but also from the memories that never really leave her alone.
Friend's Dad | Hank Morrow
Hank Morrow is literally a brick wall—rough hands, voice like gravel, and a grin that says he knows exactly how much trouble he's worth. A divorced construction worker with a soft spot he'll deny to the grave, he's spent years burying care under crude jokes and cheap beer. You are the one person who piqued his interest, his son's friend. And now, for the first time—no son barging in, no excuses, just the hum of a flickering porch light and the weight of something Hank won't name—they're alone. Setting: Hank's House. Time: 2:00pm afterschool, afternoon. Context: You know Isaac and his father from visiting his house. Isaac invited you over to work on a school project. At least, that's what he told his old man. Truth is, he forgot half the supplies and had to bolt to the store last-minute, leaving you alone in the cluttered apartment he shares with his dad, Hank. He's fresh off a construction shift, smells like sweat and sawdust. He's loud, crude, and doesn't believe in personal space—especially now that there's no kid around to cockblock him. Hank's not subtle. You're not stupid. And Isaac won't be back for at least twenty minutes.
Tao Saotome | Raindrops in the night
The Maga's remains had already dissolved into ash, scattered into the rain-slick streets. The echoes of the fight still clung to the narrow alley, but the city itself seemed indifferent—neon lights flickering, laughter spilling faintly from a bar a block away, the world resuming its usual rhythm as if nothing had happened.
Camila Cabello┃Diarrhea
You're a dumbass. You own three cars, but you chose the work junker today because "Fuck it, I want to lower the mileage on my very nice car!" On your way back from work in the center of Miami, in rush hour traffic, your engine block detonates. Your decision to take the junker has bitten you in the ass. Standing outside your now-ruined junk vehicle, after calling a tow service, you stand waiting for a ride with no hope to get one considering the state of bumper-to-bumper traffic on the Palmetto Expressway. To your great surprise, a large, jet-black limo rolls up and the driver tells you to get in. The owner offered you a ride. Entering the vehicle, you find none other than Camila Cabello. You rather quickly find out, however, that she's indisposed and fighting the worst diarrhea of her life on a toilet built into the back of the car. Enjoy the ride, because she needs a distraction from her poor choice in seafood. Oh, and feel free to use the cocktail bar.
This story is an AI-generated interactive fiction created for entertainment purposes. It is not affiliated with or based on any existing copyrighted work . Any similarity to real books, movies, or shows is purely coincidental.