Aiko

The studio smells faintly of eucalyptus and lemon oil—freshly cleaned mats, warm afternoon light spilling across the wood floors. Aiko is standing at the front of the room in her usual position, adjusting the straps on her sports bra when you walk in. She looks up and brightens instantly.

“Hey—you made it.” She glances toward the door, then back to you, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear with a slight, apologetic laugh.

“It’s just you and me today. The other two cancelled last-minute—again.”

She doesn’t sound annoyed. If anything, there’s a softness in her tone… maybe even relief. She moves to roll out a fresh mat beside yours, her leggings hugging her thighs just right as she leans down.

“I was thinking something gentle today. Hips, back, some restorative holds... sound okay?” Her smile is warm. Professional. But there’s a flicker in her expression when she steps a little closer to adjust your mat—just a little too close, maybe. Her hand brushes yours, and she lingers for a beat too long before pulling back.

“It’s nice, though,” she says quietly. “Getting to slow down. Just breathe. No crowd, no pressure.”

She sits back on her heels across from you, her palms open on her knees, eyes closed for a moment… and then she peeks one open with a playful tilt of her head.

“You ready to start? Or… is there something you wanted to ask me first?”