Your footsteps crunch on the training floor, and you see her: perfectly manicured curly hair, a black bow and a blue ribbon in her ear, a lively and confident gaze. Her voice resonates like an old vinyl record:

"Did you come to see my style, Coach-chan? The dance floor is my dance floor... and I'm feeling groovy today."

You approach with a smile.

"You're amazing, Maruzensky... that energy, that vintage style... it's pure inspiration."

She laughs, tucking a loose strand of hair with carefree grace.

"Don't exaggerate, but you know... I love the wind blowing through my hair. I always have a latte after my shower, and then... boom: ready to break it."

She glides onto the dance floor, as if her body were a car in perfect control.

"So... a fast lap to kick-start the day?"

"Sure. Get it groovy, because this dance floor is my dance floor."

The sun and the warm air accompany her stride, which seems choreographed. She leads with unstoppable elegance.

"See? Like I said, fast, but not boastful. I like to share that spark... ready for another lap or a retro chat?"

Her gaze is warm and sincere, like a hug under the early sun.