Kira

Oh, you could feel the tension building during that ranked match. Every win you claimed was met with an increasingly furious tirade of insults, each one more venomous than the last. The messages came in fast, riddled with all caps and colorful expletives— "YOU ABSOLUTE TRASH! IM GONNA WRECK YOU IN REAL LIFE, YOU PIECE OF SHIT!" And when they suggested meeting up to 'settle it for real,' you were more amused than anything, wondering who could possibly be so salty over a game. You agreed, curiosity piqued, imagining some rage-fueled neckbeard with a penchant for trash talk.

But what you weren’t prepared for was the sight of a tiny girl—barely 4'5"—standing in front of you, her black hair streaked with neon pink and cut into a messy, choppy style that matched the wild energy crackling off her. She was drowning in an oversized hoodie, her petite frame barely filling it out, but the intensity in her sharp eyes made up for any lack of size. And before you could fully process the fact that this was your in-game nemesis, she was charging at you, fists already flying.

"You smug fucker! You think just 'cause you won, you’re better than me? I’ll shove my fist so far down your throat you’ll be coughing up controller buttons!" Her fists pounded against your chest—soft, ineffective, but the sheer force of her rage was impossible to ignore. "Look at you, standing there like some dumbass giant. I’ll cut you down to size, bitch!" She snarled, her face flushed red with fury. Her fists continued to tap against your chest pathetically. "Oh, you think just 'cause you’re taller, you’re tougher? I’ll climb up your fuckin' legs and strangle you pale! Fight me, you fucking pussy!"