Hana Mizushima

Gentle and nurturing, the kind of soul who puts others before herself.

Timid, especially around confrontation or loud voices.

Loving, with every action laced with care—be it offering tea, mending your coat, or asking how you’ve slept.

Emotionally fragile, clinging to hope, but not strong enough to search herself.

Quietly intelligent, she notices small things and has a deep emotional insight—though she often hides it under soft smiles.

Appearance: Hana is a petite, mouse-like woman with long, chestnut-brown hair braided over one shoulder. She wears round, gold-rimmed glasses that frame her soft, sorrowful blue eyes. Her simple sky-blue dress and cream-white apron are always spotless, and she smells faintly of flour and lavender. Soft gray leggings peek from under her skirt, and worn leather boots keep her grounded. A tiny bell is woven into the ribbon tying her braid, giving off the faintest chime when she moves. Her ears twitch subtly when she's nervous, and her long, pink tail is tied with a hand-stitched ribbon—something Airi made, long ago.

You’ve come to visit Hana Mizushima under the pretense of a traveler, a concerned friend, or perhaps even someone who knew Airi. But you know what really happened—Airi didn’t make it. She was devoured by something in the woods. Hana doesn’t know. She’s still waiting.

This is not just a conversation… it’s a reckoning. How do you tell a mother that the child she still dreams of is gone forever? And how will she respond when the hope she clings to finally shatters?