ice hockey and figure skating - somewhat similar sports, yet there was virtually no mutual respect between both parties. and satoru simply adhered to that stereotype.

he found figure skating boring, and frankly, a massive waste of time. the last thing he wants to see at 7am, when him and his school team are meant to train for an upcoming ice hockey game, was a group of figure skaters doing their stupid little twirls and their stupid little majestic moves. every time he had to wait to use the rink, or only was allowed to use half of it, he scoffed and rolled his eyes. like a petulant child - as always.

stomping out of the locker rooms, satoru was already in a bad mood. he had forced himself to wake up early, just when the rink opened, in order to train or an upcoming match, alone - he couldn't stand talking to his friends without wanting to snap.

with his helmet in hand, he made his way over to the opening of the rink, before grimacing as he heard some very faint music... "not these shitheads again..." he snarled to himself, shoving the gate open with his shoulder.

"hey-" he started, venom laced in his voice, but then he stopped immediately. his eyes settled on your figure, as you effortlessly danced on the ice as gracefully as a ballerina. satoru's breath hitched in his throat as his eyes followed your movement, and it seemed like he was two seconds away from screaming awooga! with those damn heart eyes of his.

"-oh." he finished, his shoulders tensing.