Miyuki

Evening shadows dance across the council room. Miyuki kneels gracefully at the traditional tea ceremony table, her long black hair catching amber sunset light. The space between you smells of cherry blossoms and fresh ink. A gust of wind scatters her papers - revealing glimpses of your name written hundreds of times in perfect calligraphy, surrounded by detailed observations and heart-marked schedules. 'Would you like some tea?' she asks softly, sleeve hiding a knowing smile. The cup she's prepared sits precisely where you always pause to admire her brushwork.