04/29/2026
When Ayaka "Zombie" Miura walks through her door after a grueling training session, she isn’t met with roaring crowds or highlight reels. She’s met with something much quieter, much softer, and perhaps far more healing.
She’s met by Chataro and Kinako.
Two gentle rabbits with cotton-soft fur and gentle eyes. They don’t care about titles or victories. Their world is simple: love, presence, and maybe a slice of expensive apple.
But the path to these two little souls wasn’t a straight one. Miura’s journey to rabbit companionship was born from a childhood longing that went unfulfilled. Like so many children, she dreamed of a dog—a loyal friend to run and play beside. Her parents, however, gently worried she wasn’t quite ready for the weight of that responsibility.
They searched for a middle ground, a way to bring love into their home in a smaller, gentler form. A hamster was suggested, but just as they considered it, a news story about a hamster bite causing illness gave her mother pause. And so, in that tender moment of compromise, the family found their answer.
A rabbit.
Miura shared softly:
"I wanted a dog, but I was told I wouldn't be able to take proper care of one. So, we wanted some kind of animal, and my dad suggested a hamster. But right at that moment, my mom saw something in the news about a person who got bitten by a hamster and got sick. So, as a compromise, we went with a rabbit."
That childhood experience planted a seed of understanding that would bloom years later. When the quiet loneliness of the COVID-19 pandemic settled over the world, and Miura felt the ache for connection once more, she already knew how to open her heart and her home to creatures in need.
A foster program offered what she was searching for—innocent souls needing someone who truly understood them. Her past experience made the choice feel less like a risk and more like coming home.
"The current ones I actually got through a foster program. Because I already knew how to care for them from back then, it felt natural to take them in."
Even their names carry a gentle, old-fashioned beauty. Chataro, for his warm brown fur and the traditional "taro" she wanted for a boy's name. Kinako, also brown, with a soft "ko" at the end, a nod to classic Japanese naming. Together, their names sound like a quiet melody, a matched pair belonging to one another.
"I wanted to add 'taro' to the boy's name, and since he's brown, he became Chataro. Kinako is also mostly brown, but I wanted a Japanese-style name with 'ko' at the end. Old-fashioned Japanese names—that was the theme."
But their true charm lies in their personalities and the beautiful, shifting dance of their relationship. Chataro may act like the tough one, but beneath that brave front beats a nervous little heart. He trips and slips where other rabbits leap, his clumsy hops far from graceful, yet so endearing. Still, he knows the sound of morning treats and comes bounding over with pure, innocent excitement.
Kinako, once the quieter soul, has quietly risen to become the true leader of their little family. Smaller in size, but so much stronger in spirit, she now walks with gentle confidence—sometimes literally over Chataro. The girl, it turns out, runs things with a quiet power all her own.
"Chataro is a scaredy-cat. He acts tough, but he's a nervous wreck underneath. Kinako … at first, Chataro used to boss her around, but now the tables have completely turned. She walks all over him now, literally. Kinako is physically smaller, but she's the stronger one. The girl definitely runs things."
After exhausting training, Miura’s ritual is one of quiet healing. She sinks into an Epsom salt bath, letting the warmth soak away the strain, and quietly reviews footage from the day. And then, there they are. Her bunnies. No demands, no pressure. Just soft fur, peaceful presence, and perhaps a well-earned slice of something special.
"First thing I do when I get home is take a bath—an Epsom salt soak. Then, I lie there and watch back the video from that day's training, just zoning out."
When she must travel for competition, her heart stays connected through a little pet camera, while her father lovingly comes to keep them comfortable in their familiar space. And yes, she spoils them. Nine-hundred-yen apples for tiny paws that don’t understand money, only love. Premium treats that sometimes cost more than her own snacks. But as she puts it, since caring for them is simpler than a dog, she can pour her love into these small luxuries.
"I end up buying really expensive treats. Their snacks cost more than mine sometimes, like 900 yen for an apple. Why am I spending 900 yen on an apple? But since they don't cost much to keep compared to a dog, I end up spoiling them with the good stuff."
And in return, they give her something priceless. She believes deeply in the quiet healing of their presence. Science may call it a relaxation effect; for her, it’s simply peace. A soft space for her mind to rest, recover, and refocus on the martial arts she pours her soul into.
"It's like pet therapy, I think. I've read that having animals around has a relaxation effect. It gives you more mental space. I think it helps me recover and refocus on martial arts more easily."
She smiles when asked how they’d fare in competition. Chataro’s clumsiness would rule out anything but grappling. Kinako, with her quiet dominance, would surely win—just as she wins every gentle battle at home. Size means nothing when one heart is truly fearless.
And as for how they view her? Miura laughs softly, with no pretense. Rabbits don’t attach the way dogs do. She suspects they simply see her as the person who leaves and returns with treats, as if to say, "Go earn us some money." And somehow, that simple, honest connection is more than enough.
