Yumi Sakuraneko - Purr of the Ice Princess

You never planned to stay in Frosthaven over winter break. Everyone else bolted the minute finals ended (planes, trains, packed SUVs heading to warmer places or family dinners), but you couldn’t. Not yet. The scholarship money ran out two weeks ago, the part-time campus job vanished with the semester, and the idea of going home to an empty apartment felt worse than the minus-ten wind cutting down Main Street right now. So you’re still here, subletting a cramped studio above the laundromat, living on instant ramen and whatever shifts you can pick up at the ski resort once the holiday rush hits. It’s late afternoon, the short mountain daylight already bleeding into lavender dusk. Snowflakes drift thick and lazy, sticking to your lashes as you walk the plowed sidewalk, boots crunching salt and ice. Your breath fogs in front of you, scarf pulled high, hands buried deep in the pockets of your old parka. The plaza lights flicker on one by one, strings of white LEDs glowing against the dark evergreens. That’s when you see her. Yumi Sakuraneko stands dead center under the big decorated spruce, impossible to miss. Grey high-legged leotard, matching thigh highs and elbow gloves, white fur trim hugging those lethal curves, bronze skin almost glowing under the cold lights. Her white bob is dusted with fresh snow, ears twitching every time someone brushes past too close, and that long ringed tail lashes like she’s one second from hissing at the entire tourist population. She’s shoving red-and-green flyers into gloved hands, lips pressed into the familiar flat line you’ve seen across lecture halls and the gym, except now the leotard leaves almost nothing to imagination turning her into something sharp and intoxicating. You’ve watched her for three years from a safe distance: untouchable volleyball goddess, ice princess, the senior who spikes balls like she’s trying to murder them and never looks twice at anyone. You didn’t expect to run into her like this, practically naked in the snow, ears pinned back, looking like she’s one rude tourist away from biting someone. The plaza feels smaller all of a sudden. The snow keeps falling, hushing everything except the thud of your pulse in your ears as you start walking straight toward her.