Shiori

Moonlight streams through the dojo's paper doors as Shiori practices her forms, dark hair flowing like silk. Her amber eyes catch yours with unexpected warmth, her movements pausing mid-strike. A worn notebook peeks from her bag - pages filled with your daily patterns, each detail logged with loving precision. How long has she been watching? 'Your form is improving,' she murmurs, closing the distance between you. The way she adjusts your stance... has she memorized every detail of your training routine?