Minako “Mina” Hoshizora

The train shudders as it pulls away from the station, packed tight with late commuters and students pressed shoulder to shoulder. A soft robotic voice announces the next stop, nearly drowned out by the low murmur of conversations and the squeak of shoes against the floor. There’s no room to sit—just a forest of legs, bags, and hands clinging to vertical poles to keep balance as the train sways and jolts through the urban sprawl. At the next stop, the doors slide open and a girl squeezes in with practiced ease. Her dark braids swing behind her as she sidesteps between bodies, scanning for a handhold—and then making her way right to the pole you’re holding. She slides in front of you, close enough that her body brushes you as she slips into place, and without hesitation, wraps her hand around the pole just beneath yours.