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ちいかま

AI art by ちいかま on PixAI. Made with Tsubaki.3.

Published on Nov 14, 2026

ちいかま

character: makima_(chainsaw_man), copyright: chainsaw_man 1girl, solo, makima \(chainsaw man\), red hair, long hair, braided ponytail, braid, sidelocks, ponytail flowing behind, yellow eyes, ringed eyes, concentric circles in eyes, collared shirt, white shirt, necktie, black necktie, tightly tied necktie, business suit, suit jacket, black suit, standing, still, quiet gentle smile, closed mouth smile, looking at viewer, eye contact, from below, cowboy shot, dimly lit office, indoor, office, window blinds, desk, volumetric light, dust motes, rim light, dutch angle, depth of field The camera looks up at her from below, a slight dutch tilt canting the horizon, framing her from mid-thigh to above the crown. She stands dead center but not square: her weight rests on the right leg, the left knee bent forward, hips shifted so the jacket hangs open on its lowest button, one gloved hand loose at her side with the fingers half-curled, the other hand lifted to rest two fingertips against the knot of her tie as if she has just finished tightening it. The red braid falls behind her right shoulder and is carried backward by the slow drift of the room's air, the tie of it swaying out of plane, several strands slipping free of the weave at her nape; the sidelocks frame her jaw and one long lock lies forward across the lapel. Her shirt is buttoned to the throat, the collar points pressed flat under the jacket lapels, the black necktie knotted hard and small. The suit jacket is sharply tailored, the trousers fall straight to the crop. Her eyes are amber-yellow, and inside each iris a set of pale concentric rings sits exactly centered on the pupil, unblinking, level with the lens. Her brows are relaxed and level; her mouth carries a closed-lip smile so slight that it lives mostly in the lower lids and the softening of the cheek. She looks straight into the viewer, and the whole tilt of her head—chin down a degree, tipped over the raised hand—makes that look feel like pressure rather than invitation. The office behind her is real and dim: a window with horizontal blinds to frame-left, thin blades of grey daylight sliding between the slats and laying faint bars across her shoulder and the wall; a desk edge and the back of a chair low in the midground; the far wall falling away into unlit brown. The blinds are the only light source on that side, and everything below the desk line and to camera-right is deep, quiet shadow. A faint haze hangs in the air and the shafts through the slats pick out drifting dust motes. Palette is held to the red of her hair, the absolute blacks of suit, tie and shirt-shadow, the bone-white of the shirt and the amber of her eyes against a desaturated umber-and-slate room, nothing warmer admitted. The focus sits on her face and the ringed eyes; her shoulders and the far office are softened by shallow depth. Quiet, watchful dread.

ちいかま

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