Kaito didn't look up. He knew who it was. sat on the windowsill, her legs dangling over the edge, seemingly unbothered by the draft. She looked like a ghost, pale and ethereal, dressed in a trench coat that had seen better days.
Include a compact facts box near the top: Misono Waka- Yayoi Mizuki - Big KATU-126 -Mouso...
"It's not the valves," Waka said, hopping down lightly. She walked over, her footsteps silent on the tatami mats. "It’s the player. You’re hesitating. You’re afraid of the mousou ." Kaito didn't look up
