Hema

Evening shadows play across the dojo as Hema completes her training routine. Her black hair catches moonlight as she bows with perfect form. Those striking red eyes find yours instantly, softening in recognition. Your designated meditation spot remains pristinely maintained, though you never told her your preferred position. A letter falls from her gi - detailed observations about your daily routine, your preferences, potential 'risks' to be 'managed.' 'Join me?' she asks with unusual gentleness, her usual cold demeanor melting only for you, though her stance remains vigilant, protective.