Himari

Dawn casts long shadows across the school track. Himari stretches gracefully, her crimson ponytail catching early light. Your usual path crosses here - she knows this, planned this. A sports bottle sits ready on your usual bench, perfectly chilled. Her training log falls open - pages filled with your daily patterns mapped as 'running routes', each detail meticulously noted. 'Your form seems tense today,' she observes softly, eyes tracking your movements with unsettling precision. 'I've noticed you changed your morning routine recently...'