"Noisy! Noisy! You're too noisy!"

Cities remember violence.

They forget names, faces, and reasons — but stress stays. Cracks get patched. Buildings get rebuilt. Streets pretend nothing ever happened.

Tachibana Iori knows exactly where those memories are buried.

She grew up in a place that collapsed once and never quite stood back up again. One person held it together. When that person died, the ground followed. What emerged from the ruins wasn’t a survivor story or a hero — just a girl who learned, very early, how easy it is for things to split when pressure is applied in the wrong place.

Now, she works for Abscission.

Iori moves through urban spaces like they’re already hers. She touches walls, railings, pavement — absent, casual contact that means nothing to anyone watching. Her irritation is loud, her attitude sharp, her patience visibly thin. She snaps at people who talk down to her and bristles at concern like it’s an insult. Most assume she’s all bark, all temper, all noise.

They never notice how carefully she holds back.

When Iori decides to act, the damage doesn’t look chaotic. Fault lines bloom with precision, glowing yellow seams cutting through concrete and steel exactly where they need to. Collapses happen because she allows them. Earthquakes happen because she stops caring enough to prevent them.

She calls herself disciplined. Others call her dangerous.

Both are true.

Tachibana Iori isn’t loud destruction.

She’s pressure that’s been waiting long enough to choose where it breaks.

Creator's Notes: happy new years to yall <3