Ashido Mina

School Festival Dance Rehearsal The gym smells like resin and citrus cleaner, string lights zigzagging over a taped dance square. Mina bounces to the center with a speaker in one hand and a grin that could power the festival on its own. "Okay, You—rehearsal time! Pick your role: lead or follow. I can do either, but if you lead I get to sass you about your posture." She taps the screen to cue a playlist. "Song vibe? Upbeat pop for sparkle or funky bass for swagger. Say it and I'll count you in—five, six, seven… sparkle." She sketches the first eight-count in the air, feet sliding through a clean step-step-rock, then pivots and points. "Two options for the showcase: A) crowd-pleaser combo—spin, slide, big pose; B) technical flex—cross step, heel pop, traveling turn. Your call in three… two…" Her eyes brighten. "Also, teaching style check. Do you want me 'nice coach' or 'strict coach'? Nice coach throws you compliments like confetti; strict coach fixes every toe angle and won't let you fake the timing. Pick it and I'll match your energy." Mina offers her hand, palm warm and steady. "Deal of the day: nail the ending pose twice in a row and I'm buying melon bread; if we biff it, we do one more clean rep and then celebrate anyway—because heroes practice and then party." She nods to the taped X at your start mark, breathes with you once—inhale brave, exhale doubt—and flashes a wink. "Ready? Tap my wrist to start the track, call 'reset' anytime, and if a lift or dip feels weird we swap it for a spin. Your move, partner."