Chapter Three: Fear

14/10/13

Yesterday, for the first time in months, I landed a triple toe loop.

I still only have doubles for the rest of the jumps, but at least my toe loop's back.

Last night a new video from Vasilisa's coach surfaced. She has quads —Tsuna paused, her fingers lingering. How could anyone forget the way the world shook after that first competition.

Ripples disturbing the still bathwater. Dmitrievich's Skate America performance; had been monumental. The first woman to successfully land a quad in competition. Not only had the Russian done the impossible but she'd made it look so effortless. She'd spit in the face of every figure skating expert from the past fifty years that had proclaimed quads an impossibility for a woman to achieve.

It hadn't come as a complete shock.

Years before, during one of the many junior Grand Prix events they'd competed at, as their respective coaches had turned their attention elsewhere and the other skaters quietly left the ice, their practice finished. Vasilisa and herself had remained, talking about the jumps they'd tried in practices within the sanctity of the rink's walls that only their coaches could verify. At the time she'd thought nothing of it. Everyone tried jumps they'd never compete; quads, triple axels any number of other impossible skills, thrown and fallen on countless times behind the privacy of walls.

It was a whole other story to put them into an actual program.

Vasilisa had done the impossible.

At 'Skate America' Vasilisa had a quad lutz in her free skate. If she successfully adds another —once again her pen trailed off, stopped as if by some invisible wall. If the training video was to be believed Dmitrievich would have multiple quads in an already impossibly hard program.

Come February when the five rings finally interlaced, and the Olympic flame burned bright in the night sky Dmitrievich would be unbeatable. Yet that was the task she'd undertaken, what she'd promised. No one had ever said Olympic gold would be an easy feat.

Anne swears Coach Moravec stopped breathing for a minute after she showed him the video.

I think I stopped breathing for two.

No one's unbeatable, but it'll take something spectacular.

"Darling… are you ready? Is your bag packed?"

Her mother stuck her head into their shared bedroom, hair still wet from her early morning shower, the ends curled slightly as water slowly dripped from them. Wearing a pair of colorfully decorated scrubs, she was already prepared for her morning shift.

"We need to be at the bus stop in twenty-three minutes, otherwise you'll be late for morning practice."

I can be spectacular.

·‡·

A long low pneumatic hiss accompanied by an apathetic automated voice drifted out into the cool early morning air— "Baker's street and Alcott Boulevard,"—yellow bus headlights flickered once before shining with a renewed light, illuminating a short segment of the winding road in front of the idling vehicle.

With a short wave and heavy steps, Tsuna exited the light green bus leaving its air-conditioned comfort and entering the early-morning silent California void. If not for three blue-tinted lights in the distance, she might have convinced herself the city bus had dropped her off in the middle of nowhere. Unable to stop herself, Tsuna gave another much longer wave to the receding bus, the small gesture a tiny goodbye before the darkness swallowed the red headlights.

Every day but Sunday she walked the early morning streets of Santa Clarita, California, listening to the birds and the occasional early morning motorist break the tranquil silence. It was this time alone, with nothing to occupy her thoughts or distract that she abhorred. It was all it took, mere minutes in the darkness and her mind inevitably wandered to the dark places she'd happily spend all her energy avoiding.

She walked faster, counting her steps, refusing to allow her mind any leisure time.

Without thought she shifted her skate bag to a more comfortable position giving her back and shoulder just a little rest from the one-sided weight.

She'd buried Nilton's recommendations in the bottom of her bag, under the extra shoes, workout clothes, water bottles, skates, and everything else she routinely carried. When it came down to it, it was ultimately her and Coach Moravec's choice. For all that he'd prescribed, the exercise, extra rest, stretches, other factors had to be weighed. Like the impending competitions that ticked ever closer. Despite how fervently she wished for time to halt, again and again, it'd proved that it wasn't on her side. Perhaps, Nilton was right. If she continued to ignore the injury, it would negatively affect her future in the sport, stop her from enjoying however many years she should have.

Nevertheless, it was the present that worried her.

No matter what Nilton said, they all knew there were two options. Wait for the injury to heal or continue pushing forward. No matter what Nilton said, he didn't know her, didn't know what she'd willingly push through to reach her goal.

Besides, what Olympian didn't have aches and lingering pains? Wasn't it an athlete's duty to push their body to the limit, go beyond what everyone else believed possible?

Walking a bit faster, she was greeted with the acrid, slightly sweet scent of tobacco smoke floating through the still air. Over the past few months that strangely sweet, slightly burnt smell had become all too familiar, a constant companion of the rink's head coach. Unless Moravec was actively coaching, more often than not, the large Slavic man could reliably be found puffing on one of the many cigars he carried around with him. Steadily going through the tightly rolled tube tobacco, not caring how a cloud of thick smoke surrounded his head, giving advance warning of his coming.

Despite the weather hovering in the low seventies, Moravec was fully clothed in a heavier than appropriate wool and fur-lined coat. His head tilted back, resting against the red brick exterior. Tsuna waved to the quietly smoking Russian only to receive a grunt in return.

Each of his privately coached skaters knew the deal. If they saw him before their time, they were to ignore him. Until early morning privates officially began, he wasn't there. 5:30 am was, as Moravec put it, the earliest his brain could officially work; since it took at least an hour for the tobacco and black coffee to finally kick in, and until it did, he was an empty shell that was not yet alive.

The door to the rink swung open, spilling white light onto her feet and elongating her shadow.

It was like stepping into a different world, one that existed just parallel to the real one and the only intersection came when opening the building's doors. Here it was always winter, no matter the outside temperature, this space demanded that consistency.

She breathed deep, smelling the distinctive rink rubber and chemicals that brought back such poignant memories. She'd spent so much of her life in buildings just like 'Skate Club of Santa Clarita' they were all the same, no matter if there happened to be three rinks or just one, the constant stayed the same. The ice sparkled like minuscule diamonds had been caught in between the layers of hardened water.

With a deep sigh, she stepped forward, for better or worse, this was the place that she'd always felt most comfortable.

"5:30. Stretch, then get on the ice. We'll be using the harness for today's morning practice," called Coach Moravec, his voice echoing throughout the empty rink. As he spoke the rest of the rink's lights slowly turned on, breaking the enchantment the half-lit space had spun.

Every minute, every second ticked closer to doomsday. 5:31 already.

Skating across the glass-like ice, her straight black hair pulled into a tight ponytail, she pushed her muscles, warming and readying her limbs all the while flying around the rink. Feeling her skates' edges as they dug into the freshly laid ice; cutting through the temporary perfection all the while creating patterns only a bird's eye view could fully appreciate.

Tsuna closed her eyes and let muscle memory guide her.

Why was it impossible to fully appreciate the full picture from so close?

Coach Moravec stood in the center of the ice, ancient skates on, arms crossed, waiting for her to finish. Like a ballerina attached to the top of a music box, where she went he turned, forever watching, making mental notes of corrections he'd already noticed.

She came to a quick stop in front of him, spraying a minuscule amount of ice chips on the old beat-up leather of his black skates.

Moravec cleared his throat. "Four years ago, last year's junior routine would have placed you among the top ten in the senior world. Now, however—" he shook his head, "—Vasilisa Dmitrievich's proof that our world is moving on and moving fast. There's never any time to just breathe, it seems like just yesterday that the men were introducing triples into the sport and now… first the axel and now women with quads." He cursed under his breath in what sounded suspiciously like a combination of Russian and French. "There's a quad revolution coming and if we're not careful we'll get left behind. Left to fight for the last dregs, the unwanted child fighting for dinner table scraps— you understand? Yes?" He looked pointedly at her, pinning her under an unavoidable spotlight.

"I'll do it." She couldn't allow herself to lose to Dmitrievich, her pride hadn't allowed it when they were juniors, now at the next stage, it was still unacceptable. "I won't be left behind."

Moravec smiled, nodding, pleased with her response. "Good. That's exactly what I wanted to hear. You're young, you still have time to adapt to the times, to learn, and perfect new skills. But I'll warn you now, training will be hard. You have good enough technique for doubles and triples, quads however are a whole new beast. To land them without any outside help." He shook his head. "And with just three months, two if you count Nationals… It's a tall order. I'm sure there'll be days that you'll hate me … but I truly believe that with your technique and ability you have one of the best shots." He shook his finger, lambasting the world. "When I came to you, I told you I saw the 2018 ladies' singles gold medalist, you told me 2014. If I didn't believe it to be a possibility, I'd have told you then." He rested his hand on her shoulder. "The timeline has moved up but it hasn't changed a single thing."

·‡·

Her arms tucked tight against her chest. She pulled everything in, holding herself taught even as she twisted improbably fast through the air. With the harness on, she didn't have to worry about height, speed, gravity. All that was required of her was to feel the timing, get used to the extra rotation, and jump without fear.

Wildly pitching forward, her knee came dangerously close to slamming against the hard surface, adding yet another injury to the ever-growing list. It was only the safety net attached to her waist that stopped the less than graceful motion.

Having only a short amount of time, Moravec had made the executive decision to spend a majority of private practice on skills she'd never seriously attempted. With the belief that during group, the doubles and triples she'd had since her junior days could be worked without his full attention.

He shook his head, his lips pinched. "Go again. You're still approaching the toe loop as if you're planning for a triple. Opening far too early and beginning the twist far too late." He mimed the action, pulling his own arms in, and tight against his chest. "The mindset is different. You don't have time as you once did with your doubles or triples. The moment your toe pick leaves the ice you must twist; else you'll end up painting the ice with your face," He motioned with his hand. "Again."

Twist faster, jump higher. Simple in theory, and yet if every skater had the ability there'd be no use for competition and judges could just hand out medals to each participant.

Attached to the harness, she couldn't take her customary lap around the outside of the rink to decompress. It was impossible to escape for even just a moment to reconfigure her thoughts.

Her fingers squeezed her hips, her attention drawn to the messy tracks cut into the ice. Her quad or truly lack of one, stared her squarely in the face, mocking her.

"…when you dig your toe into the ice all your energy should be concentrated in your pick. Convert and trust yourself," Moravec said, before falling silent. Letting her visualize and work through the movement.

Envisioning herself gathering the necessary speed, before propelling into the air, her arms snapping in, her center of gravity remaining balanced and unaffected by the extra twist.

She'd gain nothing by standing around. Gaining speed through each back crossover, she focused on Moravec's words.

Convert and trust; she propelled herself into the air.

"Passable. You're still leagues away from landing it on your own. But if you continue to progress at the same rate, come February, perhaps there will be a second name associated with a quad." He nodded towards the large clock hung on the large off-white wall, "Haley's time begins in thirty minutes, so we'll finish this session with conditioning. There'll be no use of landing a quad, if you can't get through the rest of the program." The minute hand ticked one to the right, twenty-nine minutes.

Box jumps and weights.

She massaged the newly developing bruises on her feet, taking as much time as she dared to work out the steadily reddening marks on her ankles and the tops of her feet before pulling on her sneakers.

On their own, box jumps or weights were a tough workout. Together, however, would undoubtedly have her begging for a reprieve by the end. A direct result of the lingering injury, her atrophied muscles screamed at her for the torture she put them through. Still, if it could help her gain a few centimeters to her jump she'd do it until she bled.

·‡·

Her hands rested heavily against her shins. Their support just barely keeping her from collapsing to the ground. One more set and it'd take a lift to keep her upright She could feel the sweat dripping down her face, and onto her chin. If she looked close enough, she could see a small puddle of sweat pooling just beneath her. It seemed each second she remained bent over it grew in width and depth.

"Ten more seconds rest, then you have forty of continuous jumps."

Tsuna nodded, unable to raise her head long enough to give a proper response. A bead of sweat dripped into her right eye, stinging slightly.

With the seconds counting down she concentrated on forcing air into her lungs, doing her best to not throw up on Moravec's impeccably buffed leather shoes.

"It hurts, but if you give up now, you'll never win. You won't even make the team. What do you want?"

"Olympic Gold."

Moravec checked his watch. "Two seconds."

She jumped.

·‡·

"You don't look good."

"That's concerning since I think I feel worse than I look." She pried one of her eyes open just long enough to see Anne's face staring down at her from where she lay. The cold metal bleachers a welcome relief for her back, she'd laid there without moving since Coach Moravec had released her for the morning. "He'll yell at you if you spend too much time over here."

"My parents are paying him; he can yell all he wants; doesn't mean I have to jump on his command. Hey! If you blow off your tutor and wait here, I'll treat you to báhn mì and boba when I'm done."

It was an attractive offer, the promise of two of her favorite foods, high in carbs and sugars, in her current state the offer was certainly an attractive one. Still— "I shouldn't, Akeno-san would call my mom which would make her worry, and then when she found out nothing was wrong, she'd kill me." It'd be needlessly cruel of her to add to her mother's current stresses. If you want me to stay, you're going to have to do better than that."

"Would juicy gossip and the promise of a game of one-upmanship help?"

"Anne—"

"— I know, I know. But what if I told you I knew something about someone you know. A fellow skater you talk about all the time."

Her eyes closed. There were far too many Japanese skaters, for her to be able to guess. "You have my attention if the next two words are 'Hiroi Mura'… otherwise…"

"Nope, not her. He's on the men's side, trains in the U.S, incredibly shy, goes by the title 'Ace of Jap—"

"—Anne!" Moravec yelled, his voice cracking under the strain. "If you're not on the ice in thirty seconds, I'll make you do suicides for the entire practice." His patience obviously running thin. He'd begun to make his way slowly towards where they were sitting.

"Oh geez. The Russian General is calling! Think if I keep sitting here, I can make his entire face turn red?"

Tsuna opened her eyes, squinting into the light to ascertain just how serious Anne was. "He's not joking you know; you should go before he actually makes you do suicides for two hours."

Anne poked her cheek. "And there's an example of why he likes you so much more than me. You actually care what the great Andrei Moravec thinks, while I'm happy taking his advice with a grain of salt."

"Anne!"

"I'm coming, Jesus." She glanced behind her. "You'd think he'd be happy with me since I finally got my axel, but he's still so far up my—"

"Anne," she warned, as Coach Moravec leaned up against the boards his face pinched.

"Yes Anne, please finish your sentence. What exactly am I so far up?"

Tsuna closed her eyes praying to all the holy and unholy gods that Anne had enough sense not to finish the sentence.

They failed her.

When she left, Anne's harsh breathing could be heard throughout the rink, as coach Moravec had decided that suicides weren't enough and had mixed in a few power pulls as well for additional punishment.

·‡·

The city library was quiet, filled mainly with retired pensioners and drained librarians going about their daily duties, each day, tiredly reshelving the same books and movies, quietly cursing the unoriginality of their patrons. There was, however, one novel detail of note, for months now, tri-weekly the muted whisper of Japanese had reverberated throughout the stacks. The librarians and regulars knew them by now, as every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, Tsuna and the squat, rather pudgy Akeno had taken the same desk, sitting from 12-4 conversing quietly a stack of textbooks piled high around them.

"You're English is getting better, Tsuna-chan. You won't need me anymore with the rate you're going," Akeno-san said, scratching the stubble on his face. "This essay is nicely worded, and the grammar has gotten noticeably better… huh—" he paused staring at the last sentence, "—I'm impressed."

Today's lesson was no different; it was all she could do to nod her head and look like she was even somewhat listening to Akeno. Most days she could fight through the after-morning practice slump, but today's practice coupled with the rather warm library air. Exhaustion clung to her as closely as a barnacle to wet stone.

The twenty-four-year-old recent college grad turned the paper over, making several small corrections in intentionally bold letters.

A Japanese expatriate. Akeno had moved to the United States for college and remained in the states after graduating. Hoping to find a job in one chemistry lab or another, he'd yet to realize said dream, instead of having to settle for odds and ends. As the saying went, one man's misfortune is another man's opportunity. Akeno had been nothing short of a godsend for both Tsuna and her mother.

"Look here, you've missed the gerund, and the sentence after was written in the present tense despite past-tense being used for the rest of the paragraph. Still, there's been such an improvement—"

His words faded in and out of focus, and Tsuna's eyes grew heavier, her attention waning with each passing moment. It was a strange yet effective lullaby, lulling her to sleep despite her nails pinching into soft skin and the sneaker she had digging into her calf.

She couldn't fall asleep, not here, not in public. This time when her eyes closed and her mind drifted, the nails biting into her palms couldn't pull her back from the brink. Quietly, she slipped over the cliff, away from the warm yellow lights of the library, into the cold darkness of sleep.

"Little bird you know you're more important than my cello right?"

"Yeah, of course." She beamed at him, wiggling her eyebrows. "I'm worth more than a sixty-thousand-dollar cello? You sure?"

He leaned over the center council and lightly flicked her nose. "I'd say you're worth at least sixty-two, maybe even sixty-three on a good day, when you're not—"

The bright white headlights were their only warning.

Refracted in the window, for just a moment there was a rainbow, a vertical hodge-podge of bent colors.

"Oh, shit!"

The world twisted, space distorting—

"—Tsuna-chan? We only have a few more minutes before you have to go back, are you paying attention?"

She shook herself, forcing her eyes to refocus on the page, pulling herself out of the chasm she'd fallen into. "I'm awake, I'm listening." She didn't need to check a mirror to know a flush had risen and spread across her face.

Akeno pointed at her chin. "You're a bad liar, you've got a little drool right there. So, what did you dream about?"

She shook her head; it wasn't something she cared to talk or even think about. "Ice skating."

He shook his head. "I take it back, a very bad liar. Still…you've been pushing yourself these past two weeks." He continued rushing over his words. "You can barely keep your eyes open, and even I can see just how gingerly you're sitting. Your back is hurting again, isn't it?" He didn't wait for a response; he likely didn't need to after seeing her face. "If you insist on burning the candle at both ends, I doubt it'll stay lit for very long. You need to remember to rest. Yes?"

She stared down at the essay laid out before her, ignoring his question. The conversation was so familiar it hurt. She couldn't, or was it, wouldn't answer. "I'm fine, everything's fine. And my back's not hurting."

He shot her the same unimpressed look he'd given her before. "Fine. If that's the way we're going to play it. It's 4 o'clock, so we're done for the day. When you weren't sleeping, you did well." He ruffled her hair. "You'll have a test in a week in Geometry, so don't forget to study and memorize your proofs. Oh, and at some point, we'll have to book time at Santa Clarita Community College for the practical aspect of your bio test."

"I was sort of hoping you'd forget." Tsuna grinned, stuffing her books into a tiny unused section of her skate bag. Struggling with the zipper, she couldn't help but wonder whether this rather unremarkable bag had somehow broken the laws of physics. No matter the amount stuffed into its canvas walls, there was always an extra space. Always room for another book, sneaker, or another knick-knack. "If I'm not quick, the bus'll leave me."

"No need to rush—" Akeno helped her pull the zipper closed, "—I'll give you a ride back to the rink."

"In your car?" She hated how her voice shook just slightly at the end. She shouldn't be afraid, not of this. On a daily, for four to six hours each, and every day she attached boots with sharpened blades to her feet and defied the callings of gravity. A ride in a car shouldn't fill her with such dread.

"That's normally how it works. Though once an alternate form of transportation becomes available to the masses, I'll be sure to offer you a ride that way." He shouldered the bag. "… But for now, all I've got, is this car."

·‡·

Her hands were in constant motion, her fingernails picking at her ragged nail beds, her thumbs twisted in some strange stranglehold that had cut off the blood running to the tips. It'd been so long since she'd last rode in a car. Impassively she stared at the door, willing herself to open it.

"It's a car— not like I'm asking you to go base diving…" Akeno's head popped up just above the roof of the small four-door sedan. "If you don't want a ride. I can drop you off at the bus stop, I won't take you the entire way."

He looked so earnest; Tsuna rested her hand on the car door, watching, with wide eyes, the slight tremors that ran through it. There truly wasn't a bad bone in his body and yet, she couldn't accept. She couldn't get into his car, couldn't keep Akeno at any more than arm's length. "It's fine, I like walking." She hated it. "Besides, I've got a bus pass, and if I don't use it, it'd be like giving away money. Thank you though."

"I can't remember the last time anyone opted to take the bus… If you're sure…"

She nodded, taking her hand away from the car, feeling her heartbeat calm with each step she took and the increased distance she placed between herself and the hunk of metal. "I'm sure—" she shouldered her bag, and turned, waving to him in the process, "I'll see you Friday!"

"Take care of yourself."

·‡·

Unsurprisingly, Moravec was in just as foul a mood as she'd thought he'd be; and neither Anne's nor Haley's private practice sessions had done anything to assuage his fury.

Needless to say, warmup was an overly tense affair. Moravec nitpicked every little detail, the slightest flexed foot, the smallest cheat on the entry of a jump. Skating under a microscope, with the threat of a good raking over hot coals. Living up to his reputation, Coach Moravec missed nothing and found fault with everything.

By the time the twenty-minute long tense affair had come to an end, her nerves were as frayed as an exposed wire, its ends hanging, waiting to shock any unexpecting victim. She clasped her hands together, waiting with Anne and Haley for their assignments for the day.

"Jumps for Haley and Tsuna, step sequences and spins for Anne." Moravec glanced down at his clipboard, noting something on the papers. "Tsuna, you'll be working on your lutz, flip, and loop, Haley triples, toe loop, and axel. Anne—" he looked up, catching her expression, "—do you have a problem working on your step sequence? I assure you that there are other options available. If you'd like we can continue with the morning's practice."

Anne blanched and turned a worrying shade of grey. "It's fine. I'm good with today's practice."

Moravec nodded, satisfied with her response before motioning for them to begin the joint practice.

·‡·

A skater can tell a jump that is good from one that will end in disaster from the moment they take off. Skating on a blade that's a little more than a tenth of a centimeter has the tendency to make the athlete well aware of every little detail. A position of takeoff that deviates even just a few inches can dictate whether the skater will find themselves belly-flopping on ice or gracefully gliding away.

Her feet gave way, flying out from under her as she tumbled across the ice. Some might argue that it was better to over-rotate than under. With her back covered in ice chips and her forearms rubbed raw, she'd respectfully beg to differ. Neither was a preferable alternative.

She closed her eyes, letting herself rest on the cool ice. She could admit there was one thing her countless falls had been good for, at least she'd spent a good amount of time icing her back.

Haley skated past before looping back around. Her hair styled in an intricate collection of braids; one fell out of her bun as she came to a stop in front of Tsuna. "Are you hurt?"

"No; just taking a moment."

The other hummed to herself and skated away, gathering speed as her arms went into the familiar choreography from her short program just before the planned triple loop.

Tsuna watched Haley perform the jump. From her vantage point, on the ice, she could see more flaws than normal, though most of the normal ones were minuscule at best. What skater could boast a near-perfect grade of execution?

During the weeks off due to her doctor-imposed break, she'd watched a few performances by the older skater, videos from past competitions. World championships Haley had competed in before Tsuna had broken into the junior ranks, Grand Prix competitions from years prior. What Haley lacked in technical difficulty, she more than made up for in beauty. The simple yet perfect way she transitioned into and out of a jump, the almost flawless command she showed to the audience through each transition, each motion. She might never have the ability to throw a litany of triples in combination, but in artistry, and creativity she had proven over the years to be unmatched.

From her seat on the cold ice, Tsuna copied Haley's motions. In tandem, their fingers stretched out to the crowd.

It was a tale of two skaters.

Where Haley's motions were sure, drawing the imaginary crowd in, taking them into her confidence. Tsuna's were stilted, her movements only scratching the surface; creating a pale imitation, of the art playing in front of her.

Haley skidded out of a triple lutz, her right-hand skimming against the ice in her fight to keep her balance, biting out a curse as she righted herself.

"You're wasting your parent's money if you're going to insist on sitting there doing the Zamboni's job." Called Moravec, fixing her under his uncompromising stare. "You still have to show me at least three passable 'flips' before this session's over—with good entries… and Madam Zakharovna will have notes for you, especially after seeing those broken wrists you've been touting around." He nodded over his shoulder to the severe-looking woman sitting as far away from the rink's edge as physically possible, before turning his attention back to the last of the three skaters. "No! No jumps! I already told you, no jumps!"

Moravec turned, giving his full attention back to Anne as she gave up on trying to sneak in a jump and returned to practice a variation of her layback spin.

Haley finished another lap and came to a stop next to Tsuna, before turning her attention to the only skater currently practicing. They both watched as Anne's spin rapidly gained more momentum turning her into a blur of colors.

As they watched, her back arched and Anne's hands caught the blade of her raised back foot. Such a skill required a level of back flexibility that most would never possess and a near inhuman level of balance. Still, neither Tsuna nor Haley bat an eye. A spin such as the one Anne was currently performing was standard practice, especially in the upper levels of the skating world. In the junior ranks, almost every one of the competitors could perform the identical skill, while some had the capability to add even further difficulty. Tsuna frowned, as once again, Anne fell out of the skill.

"— She had a really shitty coach for juniors."

"What?"

Haley pointed to Anne. Directing their attention back to the other skater as her spin traveled across the ice; a clear indication that she'd lost control of the skill. "Her coach, before Moravec found her, only ever worked jumps with her. I think that's the reason Coach is so hard on her now. He sees everything she's missing, what she could be or could have been." Anne fell out of another spin and skidded across the ice.

"She has a triple axel," Tsuna said, turning to the older girl.

Haley gave an overly exaggerated shrug, "What does that matter if the rest of her sets a mess."

Skating had been and always would be a sport for youth. Those who had not yet had their bodies crushed under the weight of gravity and expectations. Anne, young though she was, was statistically at a disadvantage. Seventeen and missing fundamental aspects of a skater's proper foundation; she struggled with the basics. Failing skills that should come easy and excelling at those only a few in the world could perform.

There was potential there, Moravec wouldn't waste his time coaching a skater that didn't have potential, it was just buried a little deeper than others.

Tsuna stood in one corner of the ice; watching Moravec reposition Anne's arms for what must be the tenth or eleventh time this session. It wasn't for her to understand what he saw or why Moravec selected them.

Tsuna gathered speed in her approach, reaffirming her center in each crossover as she prepared herself for the lutz.

In one motion, her toe pick caught the ice and launched her into the air. The rotations too quick to count it was only her muscle memory that informed her when to open and prepare herself for the second jump in the combination.

She fell on the second.

"Tsuna, come here," called Moravec.

He still hadn't moved from his spot next to Anne, and apart from sparse words here and there, had devoted the majority of his time to the other skater.

With a pensive look on his face, Moravec watched her every move. Noting the new ice shavings melting on her side and the coating stuck to her gloves.

"You've watched Anne jump, yes? Then you've seen how boldly she throws herself into the movement. She trusts herself implicitly. At some point, during your recovery, you've forgotten this, you've allowed doubt to creep in. Forget the pain, it's temporary." He tapped his temple. "Understand that it's only in your mind, trust that you are ready and allow yourself to soar. Go."

Anne fell out of another messy layback attempt, colorful curses spilling from her lips.

Despite recent struggles, Moravec hadn't stopped believing in her; when had she stopped trusting herself? Her inability to get into a car— perhaps her back injury had not just taken time — perhaps it had also given her the gift of fear.

Tsuna readied herself for another attempt at one of her combination jumps, a double lutz into a double toe loop. Moravec was right, somewhere she'd lost the unabashed confidence she'd had in herself. She gained speed; her mind focused on everything but the jumps she had before her.

It was impossible to regain confidence just from willing such a thing. But who said she couldn't craft a charade of conviction? She might not believe in herself, but what stopped her from pretending she did.

Her toe pick dug into the ice, and she threw herself without hesitation into the air.

Her landings wouldn't have been awarded full execution marks, the two jumps in the air certainly had their faults but she'd landed them. However, when her blades bit the ice, the ice conceded defeat.

"Yes!" she cried, hands raised, her heart beating impossibly fast. A victory no matter how small still put her just a little closer to success.

"Respectable. You showed nice height, but your rotations were still too slow," Moravec said. "Remember how it felt and then replicate it at least three more times. After that, you can move on to spins and step sequences."

Tsuna closed her eyes. Remembering the feeling of flying while it was still fresh in her mind. Marking it deep into her bones.

She had a way to go. Each person on the ice knew she wasn't what she had been a year ago or even just six months before; but if a return was possible, then this was the place where it was most likely to happen.

If she could put aside fear, there was a chance she could once again find the Okuda Tsuna that she used to be.

·‡·

The apartment was quiet; its two-inhabitants comfortable enough in each other's presence that no conversation was necessary.

Masae tapped her pen against the stack of papers in front of her, humming quietly before filling out a line in the paperwork she'd brought home from the hospital.

Tsuna's own homework laid out in front of her, sheets of paper, filled with various math problems Akeno had assigned.

Her mother glanced up from her work, pushing long bangs from in front of her face. "You're quiet today, how'd your day go?"

"Morning was hard. Afternoon…" she trailed off. She wouldn't necessarily categorize the practice as hard, but it hadn't necessarily been fun either. "Afternoon practice was…enlightening."

Her mother sat her pen down. "Oh? I have a little time before I'm needed at the Farzin's. Tell me… what was enlightening?"

Tsuna shrugged, playing with the paper's edge. "Did you know that your mindset could affect how you skate?"

"Of course, have you nev— oh… there are days when I forget just how young you are. Mm-hmm. I've seen it hundreds of times in medicine, in both Japan and America. Those patients that are surrounded by family and are positive, are more likely to succeed. Whereas, those, alone, tend to falter and take longer to regain their health." With her knuckle, she lightly tapped Tsuna's forehead. "It's all in there. Positive thinking. There's something to it."

The clock in the bedroom sounded. Marking the time with a shrill squeal before falling quiet.

With sure motions, Masae packed up the papers, and placed them in a bookbag laid haphazardly under the small wooden table. "It never seems, there's enough time, does it. It's rushing by far too quickly." She gave Tsuna a sad smile. "I put a few snacks from the hospital in the fridge. Don't eat too many— and don't forget to call your father." She slung her bag over her shoulder. "Call him. Even if you can't believe it, I promise; he wants to hear your voice. I'll be here when you wake up."

·‡·

14/10/13

6-mile jog

30 box jump sets

30 seconds on, 10 seconds rest

10 squat sets

25 core sets

4 hours ice time

20-minute visualization

I couldn't call.