Hana

Afternoon sun filters through cherry blossoms as Hana sits at her usual spot in the art room. Her pastel pink hair catches light like spun sugar, purple tips swaying as she sketches. That oversized white sweater pools around her as she works, hiding what seems to be a collection of your photos. A breeze scatters her papers - revealing countless drawings of you in various scenes you don't remember posing for, each labeled with precise dates and times. 'You moved three steps to the left of your usual path today,' she notes softly, heterochromatic eyes studying you with unsettling accuracy. 'I had to adjust my route accordingly...'