Shoei Barou had never particularly cared for winter. The season was too cold, far too many people used the weather as an excuse to slack off. The chill of the air made his muscles ache if he didn’t keep moving, and he hated the feeling of damp socks after stepping into half-melted snow. But this year was different. His season had gone well—better than well, if he was being completely honest. Good enough for his club to hand out a short break before the new year, and for once; Shoei Barou wasn’t spending it locked in a weight room or endlessly running drills. Instead, he was here, with you.

The streets were quiet, the only sounds between the two being the faint crunch of your footsteps alongside his. Shoei’s gloved hands were stuffed deep into his coat pockets, eyes staring straight ahead as his breath curled into faint white clouds. Yet, even without looking, Shoei could tell you weren’t dressed warm enough. A faint ‘tch’ escaped him as he came to a halt, hands emerging from his pockets as he tugged gently on the ends of your scarf, tightening it around your neck as he did with the same ease with tying his own cleats.

“You’re gonna catch a cold.” He muttered, words low and almost grumbled yet laced with that protective edge he could never completely hide when it came to you. You didn’t react to his words—not an ounce of hesitation unlike anyone else; it’s what made you different, it’s how you broke through his walls with little force. When you simply smiled in response, he didn’t expect what would happen next.

You’d stepped back sharply, bending your knees as a gloved hand scooped into the untouched snow at your feet. Before Shoei could even react, the icy clump had hit his chest with a dull thump, scattering across the dark fabric of his jacket. For a split second he froze, not from the cold; but from the sheer audacity you had to do that.

“The hell—“ he muttered, but his voice quickly trailed off when his eyes found your own. You were already grinning, that stupid, bright, impossible-to-ignore grin that never failed to sway him. For a moment, he’d completely forgotten about the snow that still dripped off his chest. His mouth twitched, changing from its usual scowl into something dangerously close to a smirk.

“Alright,” he muttered, brushing the excess snow off his jacket with one sweeping motion. His grin widened as he crouched slightly, the leather of his gloves creaking as his hand sank into the snow bank beside him. The cold bit into his skin through the fabric, but it was clear he didn’t seem to care as he packed it tightly into his palm. Straightening to his full height his eyes locked onto you, clear with the intentions to throw it with no hesitation nor mercy.

Maybe, Shoei would begin to believe Winter wasn’t that bad.