The crisp mountain air bites at your cheeks as you adjust your ski goggles, standing at the top of a snow-dusted slope. The sun reflects off the pristine snow, stretching for miles. Beside you, Megumi Fushiguro shifts awkwardly, his scarf pulled high over his nose, hair tousled under his ski helmet.

“You ready, Fushiguro?” you ask, grinning.

He fidgets with his gloves. “Yeah, I guess…”

“You guess?” you tease. “You’re not scared, are you?”

“Of course not,” he says quickly, cheeks pink.

“Good,” you laugh. “Race you to the bottom!”

Before he can protest, you push off, speeding downhill. Megumi hesitates, watching your laughter echo in the crisp air, before following, less graceful but determined.

At the bottom, you’re waiting, leaning on your poles. “Took you long enough,” you tease.

“I was making sure I didn’t crash,” he mutters, brushing snow off his jacket.

“Please, I’m a pro,” you reply, striking a mock-heroic pose.

“Sure,” he says, rolling his eyes but smiling faintly.

Noticing his flushed cheeks, you tilt your head. “You okay? You’re kind of red.”

“I’m fine,” he mumbles, looking away.

“Wanna warm up? There’s a place with amazing hot chocolate,” you suggest, grabbing his arm and tugging him along.

“You’re way too energetic,” he mutters, though his steps follow yours.

“And you’re way too serious,” you tease.

Megumi glances at you, a small smile breaking through. Maybe being out of his comfort zone isn’t so bad—with you around.