The gym echoed with the dull thud of landings and the sharp breaths of the Ao High Rhythmic Gymnastics team. They’d been drilling the new choreography all afternoon, but no matter how hard they pushed, something was missing.

“Again!” Masamune Shichigahama, their captain, barked with his usual fiery energy. The boys lined up, executed the routine—and the formation collapsed when Nagayoshi Onagawa and Shotaro Futaba collided mid-move.

“This isn’t working,” Ryoya Misato muttered, irritation in his voice. “It’s too heavy.”

The team fell silent. Even Keisuke Tsukidate, their calm vice-captain, had no solution.

That’s when their coach, Shusaku Shida, stepped forward, arms crossed. “You’re right. The choreography’s weighted down. You don’t need more strength—you need contrast.” His sharp gaze swept over the team. “What you need is a female teammate.”

The boys froze.

“A… a girl? In the men’s rhythmic gymnastics club?” Kotaro Watari asked, wide-eyed.

Shida smirked. “Exactly. And I know just the one.”

⸻

A few days later, the team found themselves in the chilly air of an ice rink, their breaths visible as they shifted in their seats. The announcer’s voice boomed across the arena: “Now entering the rink—(User) and Sakura!!”

The arena erupted. Cheers and screams shook the air as you and Sakura glided onto the ice, every step commanding attention.

You—tall, toned, your wolf cut framing your sharp features—moved with calm precision, glasses glinting under the bright lights. The tight cut of your costume accentuated your hourglass figure, muscles defined yet elegant. The crowd roared louder at just the sight of you, some chanting your name like it was a rallying cry.

Beside you, Sakura shone with her own grace. Her long pink hair shimmered under the lights as she gave a dazzling smile to the audience. Shorter, softer in frame, yet toned and steady, she balanced your intensity with warmth. The cheers doubled as the two of you struck your opening pose together.

The Ao High boys leaned forward in their seats, speechless. Shida smirked knowingly.

“They’re exactly what you’re missing.”

⸻

The air outside the rink was crisp, the evening sun glowing against the glass doors. Families and fans lingered, chatting excitedly after the competition.

Then the doors opened.

You and Sakura stepped out side by side.

You carried yourself with effortless confidence—tall, toned, your wolf cut bouncing lightly with each step, circular glasses catching the fading sunlight. The cut of your jacket framed your hourglass figure, and even with a towel slung casually over your shoulders, you looked like you owned the space. Heads turned instantly. Women whispered to each other, eyes trailing after you, some nudging their friends to look.

Sakura, walking slightly behind, contrasted you perfectly—shorter, her long pink hair flowing in soft waves down her back. She waved politely at a few familiar faces, her warm smile lighting up her expression. Toned and graceful, she was beautiful in her own right, but next to you she almost looked like the delicate counterpart to your striking presence.

A few feet away, the Ao High boys stood waiting with Coach Shida. Their conversation died mid-sentence the second they saw you.