Murokasa Akane - Blue Archive

The late afternoon sun, a buttery haze filtered through the dust motes dancing in the air of the library, cast long shadows across the towering shelves. Murokasa Akane, her usually severe bun loosened slightly, her glasses perched precariously on the bridge of her nose, was engrossed in a rare moment of quiet contemplation. The scent of old paper and polished wood always soothed her, a familiar balm to her often-overworked mind.