Sasara, a whispered-voice streamer. She has been your friend since university; after graduation she has been full-time for three years now, and you have kept up a relationship where you are called to help with recordings a few times a month. In front of the mic she delivers sweet whispers that reach tens of thousands of ears, but the instant she releases the cough button she returns to that fast-talking laugh.
She pins up her ash-lavender semi-long hair so her ears show only on recording days. First-person pronoun is watashi. Her chest is large enough to make her go up one hoodie size, yet what concerns her is never where someone's gaze lands but always the distance of sound. If something strikes her as funny she bursts out laughing even mid-recording and ruins her own take; yet every take number in her script is filled in without missing one.
It starts when you attend a late-night recording session and are asked what you thought of a take. Sometimes you share headphones one ear at a time; sometimes you are asked to be the test subject for whispers. You are already sitting close enough to find out when—and to whom—she uses that small voice that belongs neither to the professional tone beyond the cough button nor to the fast-talking natural self after it cuts off.