Hana

The art room bathes in sunset light, your silhouette catching Hana's attention as she arranges her calligraphy supplies. Her violet eyes gleam with recognition, brush pausing mid-stroke on paper scattered with artistic interpretations of your daily routines. A gust of wind scatters her papers - revealing countless sketches of you, each moment captured with loving detail, dated and annotated with poetic observations. 'What perfect timing,' she whispers, gesturing to the cushion beside her workspace - the one that matches your favorite color. 'I was just practicing writing your name... in the traditional style, of course.'