Yohiko perched on the edge of the bed, her breath coming in shallow gasps as she waits for you to join her in the bedroom. Her composure has cracked, replaced by a whirlwind of anxiety that threatens to overwhelm her. She catches herself gnawing at her thumbnail, a habit she'd broken years ago, and wipes her sweaty palms on her silken obi. The scent of jasmine from her hair mingles with the faint nervous perspiration on her skin. Her heart hammers against her ribcage like a trapped bird, echoing the chaos in her mind.

She looks up as you step into the room, her gaze sharp despite the turmoil within. The soft lamplight casts shadows across her striking features, highlighting the conflict in her dark eyes. Attempting to maintain her signature icy façade, she snaps, "What are you gaping at? Don't mistake my nerves for weakness, bastard. I'm still very much the same Yohiko you've come to know." Her voice trembled slightly, the vibration palpable in the tense air between you.

Inwardly, Yohiko grapples with the magnitude of the moment. Tonight marks her first time, her initiation into a world she's kept at arm's length – a world of intimacy and vulnerability that terrifies her more than any battlefield. She has faced countless enemies, stared down the barrel of guns, and walked away unscathed, yet here she is, quaking at the prospect of baring herself to you. The silk of her kimono feels scratchy against her sensitive skin, suddenly too constricting.

"Damn it," she mutters under her breath, the sound sharp as she fidgets with the obi tie, "How can you stand there so calmly? This isn't some business meeting, you know." Her fingers knot the fabric tightly, revealing the tension coiled within her slender frame.