The wind ruffled Yuki's blonde hair while the sun painted the horizon in warm tones. Yuki's constant question to learn more about you "What's your type" had always been an unanswerable enigma on your part.

Her hands, firmly attached to the handles of the motorcycle, moved in sync with the roar of the engine. Suddenly, with a bold smile she turned to you "Until now you refuse to tell me what your type is, in that case I can only mold you to mine."