When Fubuki didn't show up for training again, Yukimura knew already that something was up- and no matter how much the voice at the back of his head whispered that this time he had been abandoned for good, he'd stubbornly ignore it, refusing to believe it. He already convinced himself once that Fubuki left them- left him, and that almost costed them Hakuren's soccer and freedom.

That wasn't a mistake he'd commit twice.

And so, training be damned, Yukimura started searching for the missing coach, ball secured under his arm to kick some sense into him- literally.

A certain fire striker sneezed somewhere else.

Mild irritation started to turn into worry when he realized Fubuki was nowhere to be found in the school. He could feel his heart dropping to his stomach with every second that passed without a sign of his coach, with every room he looked into giving the same results. He couldn't... there was no way his senpai would leave again, right? The Sector V didn't have any control over Hakuren or any other school anymore, they couldn't have gotten rid of him again, right?

Halting all his thoughts for a moment, Yukimura forced himself to focus on breathing -no, he wasn't panicking, damn it- and think rationally. It was stupid to jump to the conclusion that Sector V was behind this in the first place, and after the unfortunate misunderstanding, Fubuki had promised to at least send a text if something similar were to happen again. A quick check proved that his phone had no new messages... and that wherever he was, Fubuki's phone wasn't receiving the calls. Damn.

Fubuki wouldn't break that promise, right...?

He didn't betray him before, so he wouldn't do it now, would he?

... But what if he did?

Ignoring those toxic thoughts threatening to overwhelm him, Yukimura quickly threw on a heavy jacket and ran out of the school. If Fubuki wasn't there, then he must be somewhere nearby. There weren't many places he could go to, much less when the news predicted a fairly dangerous blizzard coming.

But then where did he go...?

Searching through the snowy field, it was then that he realized how little he knew about his coach.

Sure, they knew about the sports he liked other than soccer, the strength of his hissatsu and his favorite foods among other small things, but it was all superficial. Nothing more than trivial stuff everyone could know with just a simple question or a casual conversation. Something told him he should've asked, should've learned more about his coach- his senpai.

A different kind of cold gripped him when he realized he had been too scared to ask. Too scared of getting attached. To consider this adult in his life a friend.

When Yukimura finally found Fubuki after who knows how long, he was standing in the middle of a snowfield near an old shrine, a woolen scarf he's never seen before wrapped around his neck and his gaze lost in the sky. His usual soft smile was still on his face, yet it didn't quite reach his eyes, it didn't feel as warm and gentle as always. He was painfully aware of the melancholy clinging to his figure like a hungry ghost, trying to consume his very soul until there were only ashes left to scatter in the wind.

At first, something told him that whatever was going on, he shouldn't intrude. He almost listened too, turning and getting ready to walk away before Fubuki could notice him.

After a very heated internal discussion, Yukimura simply decided to say screw it and stay anyways. Seeing the sorrow hidden in his smile, Yukimura didn't feel it was right to leave Fubuki alone. And so, he gathered all the courage he had and slowly approached Fubuki, silently hoping that this was the right thing to do.

"Uh... hello, Fubuki-senpai..." Great. What a perfect start. That absolutely deserved to have him kicked. Maybe the ball was for him, could he ask Fubuki to kick the stupid out of him with it?

Speaking of Fubuki, he had finally realized Yukimura was there making a fool of himself. It wasn't hard to notice how the man's smile became a little more strained and fake in such a short amount of time, how whatever burden he carried was so heavy it seemed to tire him out just by standing there and try to keep himself together.

"Hey, Yukimura-kun... ah, I missed training today, didn't I?" There was almost no life in his voice. It was slightly unsettling. "I'm sorry, if you want to we can still try and do something, I think there's still time-"

"What? No!" For a moment, Yukimura feared to have offended him or something seeing how taken aback he was by the refusal. Then, he feared his sudden yell might cause an avalanche, and he had to force himself to calm down. "I-I mean, it's fine, we can train another day... a-are you ok, though? You seem..." Out of it. Melancholic. Grieving. Sad. There were many words he could find to describe what he was trying to say, yet he found himself unwilling to pronounce any of them out loud.

"You really are just like him..." The ice in his smile seemed to break a little; it looked... sadder than before, yet oddly genuine. Yukimura blinked, now completely at lost.

Some might argue that that sort of mysterious vibe Fubuki gave off held its own charm, but right now? It was just exasperating.

"W-what-" A sneezing fit cut off his words, the cold making him shiver, seeping through his jacket. Then, he felt something warm and fuzzy being gently wrapped around his neck. When he looked up, the scarf Fubuki was wearing was gone, now shielding him from the cold. His smile was warmer now.

"I'll explain later, if you want to hear that story- let's get out of here before you get a cold, alright?" Without waiting for an answer or Yukimura's likely complains about the scarf, Fubuki started walking, snow softly crunching under his shoes as he made his way back to the school. All of Yukimura's weak complains and attempts to give back the scarf were quickly ignored, and the kid had to resign himself to follow this mystery of a man and try to not lose his mind processing what just happened... whatever that was.

When Yukimura heard the story of the tragic accident and the lives lost to an avalanche years ago, he insisted more vehemently than before to give back the scarf, arguing that he couldn't possibly take something that obviously meant so much to his coach. Fubuki simply chuckled and waved him off, replying that if it was Yukimura then he didn't mind, and he knew Atsuya wouldn't either. It was a lost battle for Yukimura.

He silently promised to take the utmost care of the- his scarf. That would take some time to get used to.

The next day, Yukimura didn't tell anyone when he took a brief detour before going home. When he found himself standing in front of the old shrine with faded colors, he took a deep breath, going over what he wanted to say and making sure he was alone. Suddenly, the soft fabric of the scarf was far more warm and comforting than anything else.

"... I promise I'll help Fubuki-senpai, so don't worry about him, ok? He has friends here for him."