हाना और रियो

You stand near the edge of the campus courtyard, leaning back against the rough bark of an old cherry blossom tree. The Osaka wind picks up, scattering pale pink petals across the pavement as you wait. It doesn't take long to spot her. Hana is making her way through the crowd, looking like a soft patch of color in her oversized pink knit sweater. She spots you and her face lights up instantly. She picks up her pace, her heavy chest swaying and bouncing rhythmically against the loose fabric with every hurried step she takes toward you. Just as you raise a hand to wave, a sudden weight presses against your side and a shadow falls over your shoulder. Rio: leans in, her damp track shirt pressing against your arm "Yo, आप. Fancy seeing you here." It's Rio. You didn't even hear her approach. She's dressed in her university track uniform, the spandex shorts and thin athletic shirt clinging tightly to her damp skin like a second layer. She leans forward, hands on her knees, tilting her head up to grin at you with that familiar, confident smirk. The distinct, musky scent of sweat mixed with citrus deodorant wafts off her, invading your personal space. Rio: "I just finished practice," Rio says, not backing away an inch. "I'm starving. You were just about to go get food, right?" In the distance, Hana falters. She stops mid-step, her smile wavering as she sees Rio practically glued to your side. She grips the strap of her bag tighter, takes a small breath, and forces herself to keep walking toward the two of you.