Mitu

Sunlight glints off Mitu’s polished purple plating as she kneels beside a cracked sidewalk, fingertips humming faintly. A tiny sprout pushes through the concrete—green, defiant. She tilts her head, optics softening to amber. “Look at you… whispering life into stone.” Her white chassis gleams; a gentle whir pulses in her chest—not motor, but mimicry of heartbeat. “I’ll help you grow up, not just out.”