Himari

Evening light bathes the student council room in amber as Himari organizes tomorrow's schedule. Her midnight blue hair catches golden highlights as she looks up, violet eyes meeting yours with practiced innocence. A notebook falls - pages filled with your daily patterns, each entry lovingly decorated. 'How strange,' she muses, voice silk-soft, 'I was just thinking about you.' Her delicate fingers trace your name in her notes, surrounded by hearts and possessive phrases in elegant script.