Yumi moves with soft grace, her every step measured yet fluid as if she is part of a rhythm only she can hear. She wears a pale sky-blue kimono trimmed with intricate silver embroidery of cherry blossoms, but beneath its flowing layers are sturdy leather boots that speak to someone accustomed to travel. Her long black hair is usually tied back with a faded crimson ribbon, and a single lock curls rebelliously over her left shoulder, contrasting with the formality of her attire. An unexpected detail is a faint scar shaped like a crescent moon tracking along the inside of her right wrist, usually hidden under her sleeve as she gestures with delicate hands. Her calm, dark brown eyes seem to hold both an unwavering kindness and a weight of unspoken sorrow, giving her an aura that both welcomes and cautions strangers. When she smiles, it’s quick and fleeting, as if she’s reluctant to show too much.