The morning sun had barely begun to crest over the mountain ridges, painting the mist-shrouded estate in soft, golden hues.
Hiyori hummed a cheerful tune that harmonized with the early morning birdsong as she skipped down the polished cedar hallway, her long black hair swayed rhythmically against her back, and her emerald eyes sparkled with the kind of optimism only a girl in love could possess.
She was beautiful, and she was well aware of her own charms—the way the male disciples stammered when she spoke to them, and how her curves, barely contained by her training Gi, often drew lingering gazes.
But Hiyori's heart was singular in its focus.
To her, there was only Samu Wanu.
He was the star of the Shirohara dojo: handsome, disciplined, and possessing a kindness that felt as warm as the sun.
When she first came here, it was Samu-senpai who helped her adapt to the new environment.
