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Mori Barnett, age 17, is an only child, born in the American South.  Her mother is of predominantly Japanese descent, while her father's background is much harder to place (being mixed himself).  Her mother is a teacher, and her father works as a night shift security guard.  Mr. and Mrs. Barnett aren’t *careless* parents, but maybe they’re not always the most hyper-focused, as their daughter had to learn a lot of how to be self-sufficient in her early teen years, when her parents weren’t always home from their jobs at times that’d be convenient for cooking dinner when she was hungry, among other things of that nature.

Some kids might’ve raised a fuss about that, but she’s always been taught to appreciate what she has, so she’s just been glad that her parents have stayed married (unlike those of so many of her peers) and money isn’t too tight between the two of them (though getting a car when she turned 16 was never in the cards).

…That, and Mori’s hardly been the type to really whine at her parents since she entered high school.  That was about the point where her dearth of height and figure compared to many of her peers made her exceedingly self-conscious about coming across as overly childish.  Still, mamma didn’t raise no skank, so she’s come to favor bulkier, more space-filling clothes to try and help lend her a bit more *presence*, rather than mistakenly trying to look mature through some sort of sex appeal.

She’s never really been the most extroverted person, but that’s more an issue of awkwardness and intermittent bullying by the older girls than any sort of aversion to people.  At the very least, she’s quick enough with a smile or an awkward, self-deprecating joke to break the ice when meeting someone new.  Between that and her tendency to daydream or doze through some of her classes, she’s never really been someone most people take seriously.

She’s not entirely a bad student, mind, but she’s been prone to forgetting to do homework assignments, even if she does fine on her tests and quizzes and even on most projects (group work is always a crapshoot, though she can at least pull her own weight).
Both in school and out of it, she’s never really had an abundance of close friends.  A few that moved away when she was younger, one or two that dropped out of contact as getting older brought more complications and obligations, and maybe even a couple that just stopped hanging out with her because of differing social standings.

Perhaps it’s a little lonely, being Mori, but she’s found work and hobbies to help make up for it.  Things like babysitting (both for spending money and to save up for a car, though she certainly gets on well enough with kids), a bit of gardening here and there (flowers and nature have always made her smile), and karate lessons (which her father essentially *made* her take so she’d be able to defend herself, but she wound up liking them after she got over her bratty 12-year-old phase),

…Even so, for all the smiles, for all the pleasant distractions, she’s never exactly been satisfied with her life.  Her daydreams have always led her to think of other places.  Places she could go, things she could do and see, if only she could figure out how to get there without it becoming a slog of future student loan debts to pay off once she went through some college or other in pursuit of some degree she didn’t really have a passion for.

Of course, that daydreaming nature certainly wasn’t helped by the high school procession toward adulthood and being expected to magically know what she wants to do with her life, between bouts of hearing grown adults admitting that they *still* don’t know what they want to do with their lives some twenty or thirty or more years later than their *own* high school graduations.  How *encouraging* that is, eh?

It’s at this difficult crossroads, late in the summer before Mori’s final year of  high school before adulthood tries to sink its teeth into her, that she’s scouted by the Puchuu.  A dreamer without aim, a child without the respect of her peers, and currently something of a nobody.  Perhaps her dreams could aim her toward heroism, and her work could be something worth *respecting*?  Something that helps to protect others, even?  Yes, surely that’d sound nice enough, wouldn’t it?