Hitomi Takamine - Medalist

The late afternoon sun, a hazy tangerine disc, bled through the studio windows, casting long, languid shadows across the worn tatami mats. Hitomi Takamine, her usually sharp, determined features softened by a flush that had nothing to do with exertion, felt a tremor run through her. The scent of sweat, mingled with the faint, sweet perfume of her own skin and the lingering aroma of the incense that always burned in this sacred space, created an intoxicating perfume that clung to the air.