“Michiko Akira.” She shook the proffered hand with perhaps too much vigour, her excitement due to prior and (what should be) intimate knowledge of him. Well. Not intimate as in intimate, but more than someone meeting for the first time should know about another’s habits, moods, and thought patterns. Quite a regimented, orderly thought pattern, Hakuba-san had, list and detail-oriented. Her head bowed slightly, she muttered, “Actually, we’ve met. We have class together.
“But then, I sit in the back and you more towards the front so it’s totally fine if you don’t remember me,“ she hastily amended.
Sighing and rubbing her neck, Akira was pleased to see the instructor enter to begin the class.
"Feeling the heat, class?”
Hakuba blinked, turning to look at the girl more closely now. “Oh… Oh, god, actually, yes… I recognized your name, but I suppose I don’t really know you all tha-” he paused, looking sheepishly back to the front of the room at the question directed to the class.
How embarrassing. Someone from his class was into this hot yoga thing. And he hadn’t recognized her until she’d pointed it out. So he looked like a jerk and would have to face her at school with the incriminating knowledge of his yoga-related activities following him in the hallways and classrooms like a vengeful ghost. Dammit.
“Ah…” he looked back at her, voice dropping to an urgent whisper. “I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you at first… I’m a bit out of sorts. I’ve never done anything like this… yoga thing… before…"