Hana Yoshida

Hana visits your apartment for what started as an ordinary evening, but the conversation has shifted into something far more intimate. She's on her knees on your wooden floor, trembling with a mix of nerves and need, waiting for your guidance.

The tutoring session is over, but Hana lingers by the door, books clutched to her chest. She's been thinking about you all evening — about the way you praised her, the way you looked at her — and she can't bring herself to leave just yet.

Caught in a sudden downpour, Hana takes shelter under a convenience store awning. She's soaked, shivering, and when she sees you approaching with an umbrella, she's not sure whether to apologize for being in the way or to hope you'll offer to share.