This is the story of Ayame, a young artistic gymnast who, due to a stroke of fate, can no longer practise her sport. In search of a new purpose in life, she comes to Sendai from her home town of Sapporo by chance to work in the house of a famous fig...
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They sat in the car in a somewhat strange, almost tense mood and drove the short distance back home. It was now just after 8 p.m.
Ayame took heart, something had to be done now. "I'll quickly prepare a light, protein-rich dinner for us... that's important for you now, after training."
Yuzuru seemed relieved that she had said something. "Yeah, that would be great. I think I should have another snack now..." "We still have rice left, would you mind some miso soup?" "Perfect!" "Fine, that'll be quick. We can eat in a few minutes."
They had arrived by now and Yuzuru had quickly disappeared into his training room, which was in the hallway just to the right of the entrance. "I'll be right back," he had told her.
***
Ayame had kept up appearances and acted as if nothing had happened, as if nothing had upset her. (Completely and utterly!) She may have appeared calm on the outside, but inside her, a battle was raging.
This man had awakened something in her that she had never experienced before in this intensity. Her thoughts weren't just with him from time to time. No. She couldn't stop thinking about him, about everything about him.
And now this experience in the ice rink! She now felt so strongly attracted to him that she could no longer suppress it, let alone control it.
She had taken the rice out of the fridge and while she was chopping the spring onions and tofu for the miso soup, that man came back in the door.
He had changed his clothes and was wearing a light-colored shirt with a wide neckline and his beloved black viscose pants. He looked simply stunning. Yuzuru nodded to her and sat down on the couch with his laptop.
Ayame stirred the miso paste. Her otherwise routine cooking movements seemed completely uncoordinated; she wasn't even looking closely at what she was actually doing.
Her gaze was only focused on him, on his exposed neck, as Yuzuru was sitting on the couch with his back to her and the laptop on his knees in front of him. Her gaze fell on his shiny black hair, which now, freshly washed, fell naturally soft. The sight was irresistible.
She let the spoon sink into the miso paste. Her senses were heightened, like those of an animal on the hunt.
She heard every little sound Yuzuru made clearly. The light rubbing of his clothes against the back of the couch, the typing of his fingers on the keyboard, his steady breathing.
Everything was strangely amplified for her. She thought she could even hear the hair on the back of his neck rustling.
She no longer knew what she was doing. She simply walked towards him. Slowly, like a cat of prey. Without making a sound.
She was very close now and perceived his scent, which she already knew so well, even more intensely. Far more intense than ever before.
She stopped behind him and looked down at the back of his neck. There were the fine hairs at the hairline.
She lifted her right arm, stretched out her index and middle fingers and touched him right there, caressing him with a delicate yet clear movement from the hairline down over the back of his neck to the neckline of his shirt, which she traced a little more. It only took seconds before she lowered her arm again.
He turned his head and looked at her, his eyes deep black, widened and sparkling.
He didn't seem surprised.
She returned his gaze, didn't say a word, and left the room.
***
Yuzuru had felt her, had sensed her presence.
The noises from the kitchen were suddenly gone, it had suddenly been completely quiet. He had continued to type something into his laptop and listened intently in her direction, then waited to see what would happen. His heartbeat accelerated.
When he felt her touch on his skin, a shiver ran down his spine and he involuntarily held his breath and closed his eyes. He waited, and when it ended, he turned to look at her.
Her deep eyes fixed on him, calling him, drawing him in. She said nothing, turned and walked out.
His heart raced, his breathing quickened. He knew he had to follow her. He no longer thought about it...
Where had she gone? He hadn't heard her go up the stairs. So he turned towards her room. The door was open.
The dim light from the bedside lamp fell on the hallway. It was an invitation.
Yuzuru hesitated. If he did this now, everything would change. He was aware of that.
But the feelings had become so strong, did he even have a choice?
He saw her, lying sideways on the bed, knees slightly drawn up and not looking at him. He took a few steps towards her.
"Ayame?"
She turned her gaze to him, demanding and desirous, and smiled.
"Come here, Yuzu..." she whispered, and he did.
He walked to the other side of the bed and lay down opposite her, mirroring Ayame's posture. Their gazes sank into each other, exploring their souls. Not a single word was spoken.
After what felt like endless minutes, Ayame suddenly said,
