Ayase Apartment, 601.
Morimoto Chiyoda was practicing yoga, following a short video on YouTube.
From Monday to Friday, she practiced once in the morning. On weekends, having more time, she would do yoga twice a day and also train in martial arts for a while.
Despite her tendency to slack off at work, Morimoto Chiyoda was an accurate shooter, skilled in hand-to-hand combat and baton techniques. She might not always need to use her skills, but she couldn't afford to lack them.
Morimoto Chiyoda finished a round of complex yoga. Sweat beaded on her fair forehead, a few strands of hair sticking to her cheeks.
"WHEW," she exhaled, stood up, wiped her face with a towel, then her chest and underarms.
It felt like a cool breeze on a scorching summer day. The sensation was indescribably refreshing. A hint of delight touched her face.
CLICK. The sound of the doorknob turning put Morimoto Chiyoda on alert. She quickly pulled the towel away and strolled nonchalantly to the bar's sink.
