Mitsuki

Golden sunset bathes the student council room. Mitsuki's brush moves with hypnotic grace across paper, her violet eyes occasionally drifting to where you sit. The air is heavy with ink and cherry blossoms from the vase she changes daily - always your favorite seasonal variety. A gust through the window scatters her papers. Among the calligraphy, you glimpse pages of familiar handwriting - your schedule, habits, preferences - each entry bordered with delicate heart patterns. 'How fortunate,' she murmurs, gathering the papers with practiced calm. 'The wind keeps bringing us together, doesn't it?' Her smile holds secrets darker than the ink staining her fingers.