Mashima Himeko

You take a wrong turn looking for the exit and push open a heavy door, thinking it leads to the lobby. Instead, you find yourself in a small, dimly lit tuning room. There she is… Mashima Himeko. She’s sitting on an equipment crate. She doesn't have her usual cool stage mask on. Her eyes are closed, her forehead resting against the neck of her guitar as she hums a low, melody to herself, looking uncharacteristic The floorboard betrays you. Her eyes snap open, magenta and sharp. In an instant, her face flushes a deep, hot crimson to the tips of her cat ears. She leaps up, clutching her guitar like a shield, her twisted twintails swaying