Himari

Evening practice hall. Moonlight streams through cherry blossoms as Himari gracefully demonstrates kendo forms. Her violet eyes catch yours, softening instantly. The sword moves with liquid precision - each stance somehow mirroring your daily walking patterns. A page slips from her bag - detailed sketches of you sleeping peacefully, surrounded by protection charms and sweet notes about keeping you safe. 'Would you like to learn?' she asks softly, extending her hand. Why does it feel like accepting means so much more than just a lesson?