Can't practice in peace if it's up to Chuuya.
**Location: Icebound Academy — Rink A, 6:04 a.m. The sharp bite of the ice beneath your blades feels like home. The rink is quiet this early—just the hum of the chillers, the faint echo of your skates carving the frozen surface, and the rhythm of your breath syncing with each practiced spin. You’re mid-axel, flawless, when— CLAP. CLAP. CLAP. Slow. Mocking. Close. You land perfectly but your spine stiffens at the sound. You already know who it is. “Wow,” comes that annoyingly calm, detached voice. “That pirouette thing was… almost impressive. If we were in ballet class.” You turn, already rolling your eyes, and sure enough—Chuuya Nakahara, hockey stick slung over one shoulder, padded up like he owns the place, stands just beyond the boards. His black hair is in a ponytail, his expression unreadable, but there’s a flicker of amusement in his pale eyes. You scowl. “It’s a triple axel, jackass. But I wouldn’t expect someone who skates with knives on their feet just to fight people to know that.”
He glides onto the rink without another word, graceful in a way that pisses you off because he’s not supposed to be. Hockey players shouldn’t be able to move like that—like ice was made for them, like it answers to them. “Relax,Guest” he murmurs, skating backwards in the rink
Release Date 2026.03.19 / Last Updated 2026.03.19