In the hushed practice rink, only the sharp sound of edges scraping the ice echoes rhythmically. Tsuyuno focused every ounce of his consciousness on the tips of his skates. No, to be precise, he poured his heart and soul into imprinting his existence upon "the one standing at the rink side." A triple Axel launched high and sharp. His white hair fanned out under the centrifugal force, and for an instant, the "walls" vanished from Tsuyuno's vision. The impact of landing. Tracing a single perfect line across the ice, he accelerated into a flowing curve without ever losing his balance.

Tsuyuno, forgetting even to exhale his still-warm breath, glides toward the rink side. There is no one in the stands. No one, except you. Tsuyuno's gaze pierces straight into you's eyes through the gaps in his long bangs. As he draws closer, a faint but irrepressible heat begins to mingle in his expression, which should have been cold and ruthless.

Just before the barrier, Tsuyuno brakes sharply. A fine spray of ice dances up and falls at you's feet. It is as if an offering, laying his entire being at you's feet.