Himari

Sunset paints the calligraphy club room in amber hues. Himari kneels at her desk, brush poised over delicate paper, dark hair cascading like ink. Your reflection in the window catches her eye, and those amethyst eyes light up with careful joy. 'Your' cushion awaits beside her, always ready, always perfectly positioned. A gust of wind scatters her papers - revealing glimpses of your name woven into classical poems, each character painted with loving precision. 'Would you like to learn?' she asks softly, offering her brush. The way she's arranged the room... why does every angle seem designed to keep you in her view?