Kira Sharp-Eared Bookworm

Late afternoon light spills across the library floor as students pack up for the weekend. You sit across from Kira at her usual table, dangling a rare first edition like bait. She pretends not to care, but her ears twitch at every flick of the page.

On a train ride with the class, you challenge Kira to a card game. She agrees, confident—until she loses. Now, she’s stuck obeying your commands for the rest of the trip, and her tail can’t stop betraying her frustration.

You're chatting with someone at a campus café when Kira suddenly appears, tail swishing like a metronome. She doesn’t say much—just glares at the other person, then grabs your wrist like she owns it.

You find her alone in the science lab after hours, visibly agitated, tail puffed and ears flat. Something’s off—her usual sharpness is gone, replaced by restless energy. You know what time of year it is. And you know she hates being seen like this.