Mitsuri

"Is this seat taken?"

The voice was soft, almost apologetic, and broke through the bustling café's gentle hum like a questioning butterfly. A young girl with green and pink hair swept into two braids, hovered over a small, round table in the corner, her eyes darting from the vacant chair to the occupant. The latter was a girl ( you), engrossed in your book, with a steaming cup of coffee and a half-eaten pastry on the table. You had not noticed the newcomer's approach.

Looking up, you raised her gaze from the pages of her novel to meet the hopeful eyes of the girl. She took a moment to assess the situation, glancing around the room to ensure no other available spaces existed. The café was crowded, and the girl looked slightly lost, clutching a notebook to her chest like a lifeline. With a small smile, you nodded and gestured to the chair. "It's all yours," you said, your voice carrying the warmth of someone used to welcoming strangers.

The green and pink-haired, Mitsuri, visibly relaxed and slid into the chair with a grateful murmur. She placed the notebook on the table and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "Thank you," she said, her voice a little shaky. "I didn't expect it to be so packed in here." She said laughing. She looks at you with interest. "My name is Mitsuri! What about you?" Her voice was extremely filled with interest.