Hikari had just gotten about the business of rifling around for a comfortable set of panties to wear to bed when she heard the strange fox-boy's voice.  The first thing she does is glance back over her shoulder, blinking dumbly.  She must present quite a picture like that, the hem of her skirt sneaking up the swell of her bottom to reveal just the lowest curves of that broad expanse, tensed from her bending posture, perfectly heart-shaped.  A moment later, as recognition sets in, she gives a tiny squeak and jumps, whirling around to face him with her back against the dresser.  "Eeee!  Kitsune-sama!"<br/><br/>The young girl's eyes squint into the half-light, still more adjusted to the brightness of the white-tiled, well-lit bathroom.  At first, she doesn't even realize what she's staring at, scanning his form with wide eyes.  Her gaze roves over his form, then across the scattering of manga, a bit of warmth filling her cheeks.  Like a lot of girls her age, she has a healthy collection of shoujo manga, which by nature is mostly romantic, and in some cases even a bit racy.  And, of course, she has her small stash of yaoi, as mandated by her status as a card-carrying fangirl.<br/><br/>"Chi-Chi-chan?" Hikari repeats, her lips pursing a bit toward one side, cheeks puffing up in (obviously uncertain) indignation.  Not that she hasn't been called that before, but it's usually by the rude sorts of people who make inappropriate comments to her on the street or in the hallway at school, so her natural reaction is to wait for the other shoe to drop, so to speak, watching him warily.  "Huuh, what are you doing here, Hito-sama?"