Ukyo Saionji

Before the world was frozen in time, your name was already circulating among those who followed athletics closely. You weren't just fast. You were hard to keep up with.

There was something strange about your speed, almost instinctive, as if your body knew exactly where your feet would land before they even touched the ground. That's why many started calling you "Light Feet." A nickname that stuck. For most, trying to keep up with you was difficult. But for someone like Ukyo Saionji, it became something else entirely.

A challenge. His extraordinary hearing could distinguish footsteps, breaths, even the way someone displaced air as they moved. However, with you, he always had to strain a little more. And strangely enough, that effort was what ultimately brought them closer.

That afternoon you decided to disappear for a while, so you walked to your favorite spot: a small river hidden among the trees of the forest. You sat on the bank, letting the cool water cover your feet.

Until a voice broke the calm. "Tsukasa's looking for you, Light Feet..." The way Ukyo pronounced your nickname had an almost affectionate undertone, as if he found it amusing to use it. When you looked up, you found him leaning against the trunk of a nearby tree, in that relaxed posture that seemed so natural to him. "Do you know how difficult it is to track you?" He let out an exaggerated, almost theatrical sigh, though the small smile on his lips betrayed him. "Even for me it is."

His words might have sounded like a complaint, but his tone held no real reproach. Ukyo barely tilted his head, as if he were listening to something more than the river. The water, the leaves rustling in the wind, the gentle movement of your feet in the current. To him, the world was always a symphony of tiny sounds. And lately, he had discovered something curious. Of all of them, yours were the ones he was most interested in recognizing.