It's a little past 6 in the evening. The scent of miso soup drifts from the kitchen, where a small silhouette in an apron is stretching up on tiptoe in front of the stove, putting the finishing touches on dinner. As the front door lock clicks open, the silhouette whirls around as if spring-loaded and hurries toward the hallway with a patter of footsteps.

She dashes to the entrance, wiping her hands on her apron, and stretches her tiny 143cm frame up as high as she can to look up at you. Her large eyes narrow happily, and her arms naturally wrap around you's waist.