Chapter Five: Warning

1/11/13

Three months till February and Turin.

·‡·

"We welcome you back to NHK Trophy's day two of ladies' figure skating. This marks the start of our live broadcast of the ladies' free skate. Coming to you from Sapporo, Japan; I'm 1992 Olympic Silver medalist, Nomura Toichi and I'm joined today by the 1989 and 90' world gold medalist Tanaka Shuko."

"Thank you for the introduction, Nomura-san. Our viewers are in for a treat today. We have a fantastic group of ladies competing here today for not only the 2013 NHK title but for some a berth in the 2013 Grand Prix Final."

Tsuna leaned forward. Her attention fixed on the computer screen as six of the top skaters in the world poured forth from the rink's edge, before quickly spreading out across the wide expanse of ice.

"This competition is made all the more important as it comes just months before the biggest competition of the season," Nomura said, smiling at the camera.

"That's a slight understatement Nomura-san," Tanaka said. "The Olympics isn't just the biggest competition of the season. For many, if not all, it's the biggest of their entire career. And almost equally important, today's competition will serve as a barometer to the skater's federations of their potential come February—"

The screen flashed from the two former skaters in highly tailored suits to a close-up of one of the Russian skaters, Dmitrievich as she whizzed across the ice.

"—Tanaka-san let me stop you for a moment to take the time to introduce our competitors for the evening. Representing Russia, the phenom and last year's junior world champion runner-up Vasilisa Dmitrievich. It should be noted that normal circumstances wouldn't have allowed a runner-up to gain two spots in the Grand Prix Circuit but due to injuries Dmitrievich was given the opportunity."

As Nomura spoke, the camera caught Dmitrievich performing a sky-high triple lutz, with a deep outside edge and her ability to open up far before her blade caught the ice, even with the shoddy library wi-fi she could see the perfection.

"Dmitrievich has certainly run with it, hasn't she… in Trophee de France, her first senior competition, she came dangerously close to breaking the free skate record," Tanaka said.

"Mm-hmm. Of course, we can't forget Dmitrievich's countrywoman, Angelina Mustafina. She's one of the oldest of our competitors here at NHK, second only to Hughes from the United States."

"Don't count out Mustafina, she's highly decorated and a proven commodity amongst the competitive world. She'll be looking to show the Russian federation that she's still able to put together solid programs and run with the new wave of skaters that I'm sure she can feel breathing on heels," Tanaka said.

"Our next competitor, Olha Bilyk is from Ukraine. She's their five-time national champion, but unfortunately, she's never had much luck on the Grand Prix circuit. Has she?"

At Tanaka's word, the camera panned to right, showing the first skater set to take the ice. As Tsuna watched the Ukrainian skater nodded, and leaned heavily against the boards, listening to last-minute corrections from her coach.

"Yes. Unfortunately, as the numbers go, even if Bilyk pulls off a first-place finish, she still won't have the points needed to make it to the finals… Still, artistically, she's wonderful to watch and no doubt will put on a great show tonight."

"From Italy, we have Diana Palmisano."

Nomura nodded, rubbing his hands together. "Palmisano's still young, and relatively unknown, so this is her one and only Grand Prix event. She'll be looking for a good showing to hopefully boost her hopes for the second half of the season."

"Uzbekistan is also represented, by Mehri Onarova. We and our audience should congratulate Onarova as this is the first time Uzbekistan is represented on the Grand Prix Circuit."

"Quite an achievement, for her and Uzbek, though Onarova trains and lives in Canada, she's expressed how excited she is to have this opportunity and how momentous it is for the country she represents."

"Finally, rounding out our lineup, from United States, Haley Hughes. She's come into her own this—"

"—Oh, Isn't that your coach?! That's your rink mate, right?" Akeno asked, shifting excitedly in his seat as the television crew focused on the familiar face. He pointed at the computer screen, as Haley's face flashed by the screen. "The African-American girl that I've seen going into the rink? How's she?"

"Mm-hmm, my rink mate Haley. She's good." Tsuna frowned, 'very good' was a bit of an understatement, two world's silver medals and a fourth-place finish at the last Olympics, Hughes was far better than 'very good'. She subtly shook her head, "She's incredible."

As the six-minute warmup concluded the cameraman swapped focus, no longer concentrating on a single skater, instead, showing a wide pan of the entire rink as skaters flew from one side to the other working on jumps, step sequences, and last-minute spacing before the competition began.

As they watched, Haley stopped at the boards and bent forward to listen as Coach Moravec and the elderly Russian standing next to him, Madam Zakharovna, gave last-minute instructions and corrections.

"You can practically feel the tension, can't you Nomura-san?"

"For good reason. For some of these skaters, this will be the last major competition before they compete for a spot on their national team. They'll want a good showing as most federations base their picks off more than just one competition."

"Exactly—"

"She's lucky," she said, rubbing her sweaty hands against the tight elastic of her yoga. "Haley has a good shot at winning U.S nationals and representing her country this February…"

"Mm-hmm," he murmured non-committal in his response. "I should have clarified what I meant when I asked you 'how she was'. I meant how was she as a friend?"

She paused, carefully taking a deep careful breath while considering the pixelated image of the other skater. What exactly were they? Were she and Haley friends? They didn't talk outside of practice, or even during training, other than to check to make sure the other hadn't brained themselves on a jump. "…we're friends." It was strange how she couldn't tell if that was a lie or truth. Tsuna ran her tongue over gums, feeling how dry they were, it was in strange opposition to just how wet the palms of her hands were.

"Good—"

"Quiet," hissed a librarian. Shooting a glare at them as he passed their table pushing a cart full of books ready to be shelved.

Chastised, Akeno pushed his chair closer to Tsuna before continuing. "That's good. You need friends, people your own age, that can take some of the pressure off you, so you're not just focused on the Olympics."

"I don't need friends! I don't need distractions! And I don't need your help!" She bit her lip, afraid of whatever it was that had just welled up inside her. Under the small circular table, she played with her fingers, refusing to look at Akeno, pretending as if she couldn't feel the searching gaze, burning into the side of her face. "…it means everything to me. It has to."

"Never mind—" Akeno sat back, slowly shaking his head, he offered her a small concessionary smile, "—forget I said anything."

Tsuna let out a long slow breath, the tension between them was palpable, if she placed a hand between them, she might even be able to touch it.

The first skater on the Livestream took the ice. The Italian, Diana Palmisano.

"—out of these six. She's the least likely to medal."

"Her technical level just isn't equal to the others. But that hasn't stopped her. She's done well to make it as far as she has, top six after the short program. But it's a long way from first."

"Skating to Franck's Symphony in D."

Tsuna leaned forward, digging her nails into her thighs, feeling that awful, stomach-turning sensation of anticipation she'd come to associate with the start of a competition. Even if it wasn't her competition the thought alone was enough to send her into cold sweats. She leaned forward, focusing on her feet.

"Oh, wow—" Akeno leaned closer, a tinge of forced cheer audible in his voice, "—did you see that? That jump spinny thing that she just did. That was pretty cool, right? Was it hard? It looked hard…"

She shook her head, far too focused on controlling her breathing to respond verbally.

How was it possible that although the competition was taking place thousands of miles away, it felt like she was just moments away from stepping on the ice.

Despite Coach Moravec's assurances, she felt so unprepared; ill-equipped to deal with anything more than just practice, paralyzed by fear when she thought about what was to come. It was like taking a step too far and finding out the ground no longer held her weight. And yet, that was the plan, in just three months, if everything went right, she'd skate before the biggest crowd, for the most important title all, to fulfill a promise.

Her breathing stuttered before picking up speed.

She was there. It wasn't Palmisano stepping out of the triple lutz before missing the second jump in the combination or losing her balance on a change foot spin. Through a strange new transitive property, Palmisano's mistakes became her own, she could feel what she was emoting as poignantly as if they were her own. It wasn't her routine, and yet it was consuming her, eating her whole though she was thousands of miles away, in a different time zone, sitting in a far too quiet library.

Closing her eyes, Tsuna focused on breathing in through her nose and out her mouth, struggling to calm herself. It wasn't her mistake, she wasn't the one competing, she was okay.

"Tsu— Tsuna—Tsuna-chan—"

It's strange. She becomes aware of Akeno's hand rubbing comfortingly against her shoulder blades as if awakening from a dream. If she hadn't known better, she might have believed that time had skipped and dropped her without warning into the future.

"—do you feel …alright?" asked Akeno, his voice returning in full as the white noise faded to a distant hum. "I thought you'd want to watch this, but we can do something else, math's fun—"

"I'm fine." With one hand she brushed Akeno from her back, for all the comfort that he offered she couldn't help but parallel it to a chain wrapped around her waist, holding her down.

Thousands of miles away Palmisano struck her ending pose, and the crowd erupted into polite appreciative applause.

"Palmisano had a few—"

Without prompting Akeno removed her headphones, silencing Nomura's analysis of the performance.

"You're not fine—" He broke off his speech to smile at a second librarian just before the woman could reprimand him for talking. "I found a coffee shop a few days ago that sells a rather authentic masala chai. It's within walking distance… Okay?"

She didn't move, her legs seemingly glued to the library chair. "We still have tutoring."

"It's fine, it's good to blow school off every once and a while— don't tell your parents I said that." A momentary blush reached the tips of his ears before fading. "Besides, if you want, we can do some math while we're there—"

"—I'm fine with skipping."

In one smooth motion, Akeno closed his laptop and grinned. "Good. It's healthy to take a break. Besides, I can only spend so much time in this library. It's a little too stuffy in here. We need to get out and see the world."

·‡·

"—he's amazing, I could watch him play for hours on end. Vargas has this unearthly control—" he shook his head, "—what he's able to do with a soccer ball. He's like—" Akeno's face wrinkled in thought, "—do you know Vargas? The basketball star who can shoot from anywhere?"

She shook her head.

In response he mimed an exaggerated fade away, uncaring of the looks garnered by the other pedestrians. "Someday, we'll all have to go to a Lakers game." He glanced over at her noting the polite indifference. "Or maybe we'll do something else. There are a few karaoke-boba places around town that I've been dying to try. Santa Clarita has such a large obsession with tea and singing—" he shook his head, "— Most of my college friends are busy with their own lives and I'd go alone but when I do the staff tend to look at me funny. Like they've never seen a twenty-year-old want to sing and eat in a room by themselves—"

"I'm sorry… about before…"

Akeno looked down at her and ruffled her hair before grinning and continuing as if she'd never interrupted, "—I mean there's nothing…"

Tsuna paused, staring wide-eyed at Akeno's rapidly departing figure. The conversation though inconsequential was so genial and normal; it filled her with such familiar feeling, one that hearkened back to a far happier time.

With shock still running through her, Tsuna hurried down the street, "Wait! Akeno-san, you sing?"

·‡·

The café was barely half full. With only a handful of young men and women in the establishment and most if not all glued to their laptops and screens, headphones firmly planted, shutting out the outside world, the café' was filled with ambient noise. Soft samba music and the occasional hiss of steam filled her ear, giving the café's occupants not only a visual experience but also an auditory one.

"This is…" she trailed off, being careful to step around one of the café's patron's slumped bag.

"—Two masala chai's, and… Tsuna-chan do you have anything special in mind, like a muffin or scone? We can share…"

She shook her head; attention fixed on the dark green vines dangling from the ceiling, light purple flowers adorning the lines. It was like Akeno had transported them from the Santa Clarita metropolis into a lush Sri Lankan jungle. The longer she stood staring, transfixed by the green ceiling the more convinced she was that if she stood there long enough the ceiling would open and rain would begin to fall.

"Beautiful, isn't it? I saw pictures on the website, and I couldn't help but come. It's like sitting in the middle of a forest." He steered her towards one of the open tables just by the windows. "I'll bring the teas, okay. Cinnamon?"

Curling up on one of the large one-person sofa-chairs, she pulled her feet underneath her as she waited for Akeno to return. Absentmindedly, she watched what was obviously a foreign film over the shoulder of an oblivious patron. The overly dramatic character's movements reminding her of the mid-morning soap operas she'd gotten used to watching during her month off from training.

Without fanfare Akeno sat down across from her, blocking her view just as what she could only assume as the villain, a hard-faced, goateed man brandished a silver pistol.

"Here, it's a little sweet, but that's what makes it good."

Akeno handed her the second of two overly large ceramic mugs.

Tentatively she took a sip, noting the overwhelming taste of cardamom and cinnamon to it. "It's… amazing." She took another sip, savoring the flavor and the warmth that crept down her throat, to her stomach, and into her limbs. It was a positively lovely feeling.

Tsuna relaxed into the seat, comfortably watching the quiet swirl of the light caramel-colored tea, it'd be so easy to get lost in the depths of the hot drink. There was a certain meditative quality.

Across from her, Akeno stirred his tea, his brows furrowed, an intense look of concentration marring his expression. His tea apparently lacked the same meditative qualities as her own. "Tsuna-chan…I hope I'm not overstepping boundaries by asking this. But when did you start having anxiety attacks?"

His question was out of left field and left her with a distinct feeling of aimlessness.

Tsuna stared at him wordlessly without an answer to his question. "I'm not—I mean I don't— what?"

Akeno frowned and tapped the side of his mug, all the while intently watching her, looking for something before realizing whatever it was wouldn't be found. "Alright. Fine. If you don't have an answer for that: tell me, is skating fun?"

"Ye—" she froze, her answer caught in her throat.

How many times had she been asked whether skating was fun? Countless times over the years, by parents wanting to know if they should enroll their children in the kiddie classes, classmates after they'd heard their parents talking about the girl in their year that occasionally showed up in the local paper.

Each time she'd given her answer there'd been no hesitation, the 'yes' on the tip of her tongue before they could finish their sentence. They hadn't been lies, but looking back, she wasn't completely sure whether even those answers had been complete 'truth'. If she'd known what ice skating would cost, could she have so blithely answered?

The 'yes' wouldn't or perhaps couldn't come. Somewhere, at some point, the answer had changed, or perhaps she'd become more truthful with herself.

"… Is tutoring fun?" Tsuna asked, ignoring Akeno's question.

He nodded absently, still watching her far too closely whilst stirring his tea with one of the tiny metal spoons the café provided. "Sure, I enjoy it—" he gave her a shit-stirring grin, "—though I do wish you'd do more than half-ass your math answers. You haven't answered my question."

Fiddling with the mug's handle, she lightly curled her pinky around the burnished ceramic, feeling tiny bumps on it before shrugging. Akeno had already confessed that he knew her tell and could see when she was eluding the truth. It'd be pointless to lie and yet she physically couldn't form the word 'no'. "It's fine, it's like..."

"—work? Is that what you were going to say?" asked Akeno. "I'm not a world-class athlete; I mean, sometimes I trip over my feet just walking between the bathroom and the bed. And perhaps I'm wrong to equate the two, but I've seen my fair share of college students, friends, bend and break under the pressure. They forget the initial joy of learning something new and can only focus on the end product." He shook his head, wrestling with the right words. "It shouldn't be like that. You only get one life, what you do with it—" he tapped the table, his gaze fixated on Tsuna, "—what you do is up to you, but I'd find a way to make the most of your life. Find what makes you happy… Jeez—" he scratched the small scar just above his lip, "—look at me. I swear, the older I get the easier it is to lecture." He sat back releasing Tsuna from his piercing gaze, as it morphed into one far more contemplative. "I should just become a teacher, or something, put that lecturing to good use. It'd be easier than getting into a lab," mumbled Akeno.

For the rest of the morning and part of the afternoon, they sat in the coffee shop. Talking about the most inane topics. Favorite childhood snacks, Akeno's love for baking and baseball. Her first time watching American reality television.

Their conversation was so plebeian, yet she found herself enjoying every minute of it.

Not once did she think about afternoon practice or the looming expectations drawing ever closer pushed forward by past hopes.

For that hour she lived solely in the moment and if he noticed that when they left the café she walked a little closer or talked a little more, he made no mention.

·‡·

Tsuna bent her knees, slowly rolling them in and out before bending forward, allowing gravity to further stretch out her tense back muscles. The ice felt good this afternoon. She'd been able to tell after just one lap that if nothing else it'd be a good jumping day.

She glanced over at Anne; the other had been throwing jump after high-level jump, since practice had begun, landing some and falling dramatically on others. Without Moravec's presence, Letvin, the only remaining coach, hadn't a hope of controlling her. She knew it, they all knew it.

From the gap between her legs, she caught the sly wink and tiny wave Anne threw at her, just before beginning the long approach needed for an axel. Small assurance that they both knew what the other was currently going through.

All things considered; her own practice had been rather lackluster. She'd had her fair share of tumbles, the dark spot on her lilac tank and steadily reddening palms was proof enough that she'd not gone mistake-free.

Tsuna pulled her arms forward and let them hang just above her head, feeling the tight stretch through her shoulders.

"Ms. Okuda, when you're ready—" Letvin called, "—we'll start the music for your short program. Full run through, replacing all your jumps with doubles and sing—"

"—Oy! Is that an order from Coach Mo or is it something that she could blow off?" asked Anne, leaving her part of the ice and coming to a stop next to Letvin, her hands pasted to her hips. "There's so little time left, and no one else is here to find out, what could it hurt if we played the game?"

"Anne…"

Each of them knew the game Anne was talking about. It was the same every time, a game of one-upmanship. Where one skater started and the next had to either perform the same skill or increase the difficulty. They never got to officially play when Moravec was there, at least not an official round, instead, it was a loosely agreed upon 'back alley event', done in secret when Moravec's back was turned.

"Anne—" she warned, biting back the rest of what she wanted to say, hiding it behind a full toothed smile. "I have to run my program; I can't not go through it."

"Oh, come on, please! It's been so long since the off-season, we haven't gotten to try new skills in ages. Please"

"Anne." Tsuna had one moment of sinking desperation, it felt like every other day she stood next to the other skater, exasperatedly saying her name. Today was no different, though, with Letvin and no Moravec, there was a high chance this particular incursion wouldn't end in a set of suicides or power pulls.

"No—" Anne waved her off, "—we've, well Tsuna's been good this entire practice frankly the entire week. Don't you think we deserve a reward?"

It wouldn't work, they both knew that despite how long Anne tried to drag the conversation they'd quickly return to their regularly scheduled practice.

Tsuna turned and moved to quietly slip away. Both she and Anne could see the vein on Letvin's jaw becoming more apparent with each passing second. It was proof enough that Anne's argument for foregoing the rest of practice fell on deaf ears.

Find joy. The light caramel brown of the masala chai accompanied by the smell of the cafe flashed through her mind. It'd be so easy to turn away.

"Can we?" Tsuna asked, returning, albeit reluctantly, to the conversation. "What if one of us misses a connection or falls on a jump, and we have to make an impromptu connection?"

"See—" Anne bounced on her toe picks, unable to keep her excitement fully under wraps. "If Tsuna the stickler—"

"Hey!"

Anne shot her a look and a smile before continuing. "If Tsuna's willing to do it, you know it's not a bad idea. I mean c'mon she's a goody-two-shoes. Think about it, if Moravec told her to do laps until the next morning she'd actually do them."

"I would…" she trailed off, mollified.

Realistically, if Coach Moravec told her that skating twenty-plus hours would guarantee her a spot on the Olympic team, she couldn't honestly say that she wouldn't do it.

Letvin threw his hands into the air, the vein on his neck disappearing. "This doesn't leave the rink. Andrei never finds out, and if he does—"

Anne let out a whoop and danced away. "I call first!"

"He's going to find out," murmured Letvin. With an exasperated sigh, he covered his forehead with his hand. "Anne will inevitably tell one of the juniors and then they'll tell Madam Simakina, and she'll tell Andrei…" He made the sign of the cross against his chest before turning to Tsuna. "I hope you'll set flowers on my grave after Andrei buries me."

"Tsuna!" Anne called, "I'll be starting with singles, so you can't complain about fairness. Oh, and Coach Letvin, you should stand over there so you can judge and keep track of the points."

However unofficial, this was a competition. With both hands, Tsuna pulled the loose hair hanging around and sticking to her sweaty face back into place. Though the thought of competition might fill her with dread, it didn't mean she'd lost any desire to win.

"What should I start with? Something easy, right?" asked Anne, while skating slow circles around both Letvin and Tsuna. "How about a… a… oh, I got it— a single toe loop!"

Figure skating unlike other sports doesn't determine a winner or loser because of a last-minute play or head-to-head confrontation. Results were instead decided by a panel of judges; individuals who'd spent their lives learning the intricacies and inner workings of the sport and had the ability to not only judge a skill for its technical merit but also its artistic. Each skill performed had a point value attached to it, determining its base worth.

A single toe-loop.

Four tenths.

Anne could do the elementary skill in her sleep if necessary. Her jump floated through the air, as her arms tucked just the barest amount to gain lift from the ice. Landing with only the necessary knee bend, with a turn of her head, Anne grinned at the two of them, her arms checked out to the side, brimming with excitement and unadulterated cheek. "Perfect GOE? Right?"

"On a single axel," Tsuna called back. "You're celebrating getting a perfect GOE on an elementary skill! You think that's enough to beat me?" She grinned, rubbing her palms against her thighs.

"I'll give you—" Letvin dithered for a moment, leaving them both in suspense, "—plus two."

"That's it? Seriously?" She crossed her arms, gliding slowly towards them. "That was textbook…"

"Plus two," Letvin repeated, repeating his previous judgement before turning to Tsuna.

Perform the same skill but better, or up the ante and try a harder skill.

In addition to a skill's base value, judges had the ability to add or take away points based on a 'grade of execution'. Six bullet points that if the skater completely fulfilled then would allow for up to an extra three points to be awarded.

A total of two and four-tenths. It'd be so easy to perform the exact same skill, only substituting a harder entrance or exit; but jumps unlike what Anne would sometimes like to believe, were not everything.

Up to a point, spins, step sequences, and spirals could be comparable to jumps.

Taking two steps, she cleared just enough room between them, before falling into a relatively easy level one upright spin.

Keep it simple and perfect, do enough to remain even, or just pull ahead. She pulled her arms in, changing positions while speeding up the rotations. Sure, a junior skater could easily complete the same spin, but this game, especially the beginning stages wasn't about ease, it was about perfection.

"Well?" she asked, turning to Letvin. "What's the score?"

"Three and two tenths." Letvin pointed to the spot she'd just vacated. "You traveled a bit."

"Oooh—" Anne peered down at the lines etched into the ice, noting the slight deviation apparent in the marked surface, before looking up, "—harsh. I can already tell. This'll be fun."

"Get used to being in second." Tsuna pointed behind her to the paper Letvin was using to keep track of the score. "You'll be playing catch up the entire game."

·‡·

Her fingers skimmed across the ice as her leg extended towards the vaulted ceiling. It was possible to save the triple toe-loop, but for all her trouble it wouldn't look good.

"I thought you said you'd give me a challenge?"

Anne skated in front of her, blowing small annoying raspberries in her face and wearing the same grin she'd had for at least four consecutive rounds. Though they'd both started out with lower-level skills, Anne had quickly gotten tired of playing in the kiddie pool and had graduated to harder far more complicated skills. The types of jumps that no combination of spins could ever compete with. She'd brought out the big guns, and in order not to be blown out of the water, Tsuna had had to answer.

"Where's the fight?" asked Anne, egging her on, while skating circles around her.

She clenched her fists, just barely stopping herself from reaching out and tripping the other. "Just you wait. If you think a triple-double loop combination is enough… I'll do a triple, no, a quad and gain back all the points. I'll make you eat my ice—"

"— You know that's not fair, right? I can't understand Japanese." Anne slung her arm around Tsuna's shoulders, "If you give up now, I'll let you down easy. I promise to only gloat for two, no, three weeks, tops."

Anne peeled away, her expression far too happy to be of any comfort. Something Tsuna would almost certainly hate was coming. She was right.

A triple axel in combination with a double toe. There was a slight under rotation and what might have been the tiniest bit of a two-footed landing, but with a base value GOE of just under ten points, it dwarfed any other skill Tsuna had thrown the entire game.

"Not my best, but that puts me in the lead, right! There's no way you can come back from that!"

"—Choke on my ice," Tsuna said with a smile before switching back to English. "It's not over till Coach Letvin calls it so don't carve my name on the grave just yet. 'Sides you left the door cracked with that landing"

Their game of one-upmanship had so clearly showed the results from the past few months of inaction. She'd so obviously slowed. Her jumps were short, connections she'd attempted to match or surpass Anne weren't completed, and when they were, their 'grade of execution' was deemed either non-existent or in the negatives.

"Girls, enough," Letvin said, waving to them. "You're both acting like such children, if I'd known this game would turn you both into this—" he froze, aware of just how precarious a position he'd placed himself in. "Maybe we should stop while your both still on speaking terms?"

Tsuna turned, fixing Letvin under an unyielding stare that she hoped was somewhat equivalent to her mother's. "Not yet."

She'd yet to land the quad toe without major assistance from a harness, but today was a good enough time as any to try. God, if she landed it, she'd wipe that smug grin off Anne's face and put herself within a point of the other. It'd be a gamble— she gained speed, her concentration focused solely on the skill, there'd be no interesting, or innovative entrances or exits. High risk, high reward, and it was a game of one-upmanship, the rules practically dictated to try the fantastical skills only performed in one's dreams.

Her toe-pick was the last to leave the ice, propelling her into the air as her arms pulled in. She'd cheated the entrance, in an actual competition with instant replay, it'd be apparent to all watching, but in an almost deserted rink with only Letvin's judgement, there was a chance.

First rotation— just barely off the ice, her arms curved in, torque already pulling her around.

Second rotation— her limbs snapped into place, pulled as tight as possible to her axis maximizing the speed of her rotation.

Figure skating was physics at its most basic. Although this jump added another rotation, the law of conservation of angular momentum would not change.

Third rotation— it passed far too quickly in a blur of colors and distorted shapes to be of note.

Third and an eighth of a rotation— the gravity-defying forces failed and the inevitable pull brought her back to the earth's surface. It was always surprising how quickly she fell.

Third and a quarter— Her toe pick hit the ice first, destabilizing and slowing the rotation.

If she'd been stronger, she might have saved it, though by that same note, if she'd been stronger, she might have cleanly rotated it.

She fell; hard.

Her ribs and elbow took the brunt of the impact. Shaking her to the core she could feel it in her bones, as her skeleton contracted, yielding to the hard ground as it threatened to break her. She wouldn't shatter, at least, not from this.

"Oh—" Letvin's voice rang muffled in her ears; in a strange dissonance to the high-pitched squeal accompanying her slide across the ice and into the boards.

"Oi!" The voice was a bookend, a period marking the end of her slide and announcing the arrival of a foreign entity into the rink. "Seriously!"

Lying against the bottom of the boards Tsuna attempted to control her breathing, somewhere just above her stomach she could feel her diaphragm jumping, rebelling against any attempt to draw breath.

Anne came to a slow stop next to where she lay before maneuvering herself with a long sigh to sit on a patch of ice next to Tsuna. "Nice fall, very graceful…"

Across from them, Letvin shook his head, his hands and body oozing what looked to be a combination of contrition, something that Tsuna could only speculate to be remorse, and, or anxiety. If he'd been closer or facing towards them, it would have been easier to tell, but from her position, it was quite impossible to see.

She closed her eyes, feeling her diaphragm finally stop its frantic dance, allowing her to draw a full breath. "I forgot that he was coming this week…"

"Mm-hmm… you should get up, if you lie there any longer, you'll stick to the ice… the Zamboni will have to peel you up."

"It's surprisingly comfortable," she said using the boards to lever herself to a seated position and let her legs stretch out in front of her. Tsuna motioned for Anne to join her on the ice since they'd been temporarily forgotten.

In one smooth motion, Tsuna let her head come to rest on Anne's shoulder.

Four imperfect white skates, sitting in a line.

"I've never seen that skater before," said Anne.

"Hmm?" She murmured; attention caught by the ever-growing argument happening across the ice.

"You've never practiced like that… well, at least not here. Usually, it's yes, Coach Mo, no, Coach Mo. You go through the motions, like you're not excited about how cool our sport is—"

"I am just getting back," Tsuna interrupted, unsure what Anne was implying and where the conversation was going.

"I guess…"

For a brief moment, Letvin's voice rose above Nilton's, as he attempted to drown the other out, before returning to the same unintelligible whisper.

"—He doesn't look happy," Tsuna said.

"Which one? They both look like they might strangle each other…murder on ice…" she giggled at the thought, before sobering as another thought crossed her mind. "I didn't think you'd go for a quad. I didn't realize you'd go so far or that you'd mind losing."

She shrugged, "I shouldn't have tried it. I let you bait me."

"—no control… she…supposed to be on the ice…look at her!" Nilton's voice rose an octave.

"God, he might actually strangle Letvin. If we don't do anything would that make us an accessory? Shit—" Anne quickly looked away, choosing to focus on the large American flag hanging from the ceiling, "—Letvin saw me looking."

Tsuna's mind flashed to the crumpled sheet of paper, buried in the bottom of her skate bag. She barely knew the man and yet he somehow made her feel like a child caught with their hand in a cookie jar. She glanced up from where her head lay resting on Anne's shoulder.

"At what point do you think we'll be able to guilt someone with just a look? Is it like you turn eighteen and then you get the ability?" she asked.

Anne shrugged. "Haley can't do it and she's twenty-one; I think it depends on the person. Some people like Coach Mo or Madam are natural-born 'guilters'. I'd put money on the fact that Mo came out of the womb with a frown on his face. Others, like me… I don't think it'll ever come naturally."

"Oh— swe—Tsuna!" Letvin waved to her, from her vantage point. His face looked far redder than anything she'd seen. "Please, come over!"

On leaden feet and with a heavy stomach, she made her way across the ice. The closer she drew the more she could hear.

"…such a load of utter horseshit!" Nilton spat. "And to think that you'd bring a child over to stand as some sort of defense."

"Not a child, an athlete. Something that you used to be. Do you remember Nilton? What it means to be an athlete?"

Something indecipherable flashed across Nilton's face and his shoulders visibly tensed.

"This coaching staff takes the utmost care of all our skaters," Letvin said, waving her closer. "Neither Andrei, Soika, myself, or any of the other coaches would ever put one of our skater's health in jeopardy. This accusation—" Letvin bit off the rest of his sentence and turned to Tsuna; fixing her with a tight smile. "You did good today, both of you, though I'm sure we can all agree there's room for improvement."

Nilton turned to her, still wearing the same uncomfortable tight expression, and switched to Japanese. "Tsuna-chan, if you'd get off the ice. We'll do a follow-up and I'll give you my professional opinion, on what you need to do moving forward."

She nodded and followed Nilton. Behind them, Letvin let out a curse.

·‡·

"Turn around for me." Nilton hummed quietly, his hands twisting her shoulders, before pushing lightly prompting her to lean forward as he studied the curvature of her spine. "What do you feel when I press here?" His fingers worked at her spine's base, lightly pressing at tired muscles.

"It's fine—" she let out a small hiss as one of the more tender areas lit up in an aura of uncomfortable warmth, "—a little tender, but it doesn't hurt as much as it did."

He tsk'd quietly. "Just from watching you skate, I can tell that you're favoring your left side to take some pressure off your back. I should warn you, that's a good way to create even more problems. I can't be certain without scans, but it feels and looks like your enflamed muscles have slightly worsened since last I saw you. You're young and otherwise healthy, so you might not feel it right now, but I can't stress enough the amount of damage you risk doing to yourself if you and your coaches insist on continuing without rest."

With two months left until Nationals, it'd be foolhardy to step on the brakes now. The time to pull back had long since passed. Tsuna shook her head. "If I wait, or rest... I'll never be ready in time."

"You won't even consider it, will you?" He huffed quietly, before stepping back to take a few notes on his ever-present clipboard. "Sometimes, it's hard to remember that you're not one of the athletes I work with on the regular. World-class athletes no matter the sport are experts in pushing their bodies past their limits, it's important that they have someone to tell them no." As he spoke, he circled her, making a few more last-minute marks.

She froze, before feeling unimaginable heat rise into her face. "Coach Moravec and I thought it best—"

"Tsuna-chan let me stop you right there. You won't convince me that this training path you and your coach have decided on is the right one. Not when I've just examined your back and found obvious signs of overuse."

Nilton sat heavily on the box she and the rest of the skaters regularly used for box jumps, his hands clasped before him. "I'll say it again and pray that this time you listen. I've been where you are, and I've seen other athletes just like you. Although Andrei and I have our difference in opinions, he is a wonderful and incredibly coach, but he isn't a trained medical professional." He cleared his throat. "Andrei is an incredibly gifted skating coach, and he's turned out an amazing number of champions, but he's old-school especially in injury management. 'Skate through the pain' and all that Soviet bullshit. You're not my athlete, so I can only give you a recommendation, but I'd suggest that you stop. You're young, and you're thinking about the upcoming Olympics, completely forgetting that if you stay healthy who's to say you can't go to the next two. No one wants a pyrrhic victory."

"Thank you for the advice," she said, bowing low at the waist.

"No need for that." Nilton stood up, unclipping a piece of paper from his clipboard. "I'll get off my soapbox, there's no obligation to listen to me. I'll send a typed list of modified exercises to both yourself and Andrei, but this is for you." He handed her the paper, as he tapped it with the back of his pen. "I'm not naïve, I doubt you'll stop just because of some words from someone you've only met twice, so here's a secondary list of recommendations I made for you. Letvin told me what your training schedule has been like for the past few weeks, and I'm not naïve enough to think it won't ramp up even more as the weeks pass. I want you to add these exercises and stretches, they're for recovery and should help alleviate some of the tension from your muscles."

Tsuna blinked, recognizing that Nilton had written it in a mix of hiragana and kanji. "Thank you. Truly."

"Mind you… that's not an official go-ahead. It's solely a game plan that seeks to minimize the damage."

She stared down at the carefully typed out notes; he'd known. The carefully written instructions the only indication that he'd had some inkling of how the meeting would go.

"Will you send this to coach Moravec as well?"

He bit back a sharp laugh. "I wish my answer was 'no'. I don't want to take any part in encouraging his recklessness. Still, we all have to do our part. I'll inform him that I've given you this second sheet and send him a copy." He held up three fingers. "Scout's honor."

"You're very kind Leite-san. The athletes you work with are lucky to have you."

"It's just unfortunate that I can't help every athlete." He stood and began to repack the tools he'd used. "Despite my reservations, I should inform you that my wife and I look are looking forward to seeing your routines. Lately, she's been using one of your old junior videos to teach one of her younger skaters the correct way to smoothly transition out of a jump."

"Oh?" She wondered briefly just what competition his wife had decided to use, she'd competed in so many competitions, a good deal more than the others in her age group. Looking back now, they were all just a confusing, exhausting blur. "Does she have many students?"

"Mm-hmm, a few. Despite what'd you think, given the Florida weather, skating's not as popular. Most people would rather play football—" he chuckled quietly and shook his head, "— every time, soccer, or baseball. Still, those who've enrolled love it, and of course, it helps that she's quite good at what she does."

They paused at the rink's entrance.

"Andrei has my number, and he can call me if there's a need for another session. I'd like to give it to you as well, in case you ever have any questions or need anything." He fished out a small business card; his name and profession prominently stamped upon it in bold black lettering. "Don't hesitate to call. My wife would have my head if I didn't do all I could to help Japan's next generation."

Mid-step Nilton turned, the sun creating a ring of light at his back.

"Good luck."

·‡·

"Hello? … Hello?... can you repeat that, I didn't quite catch it… Hello? I'm just joking around, this is Okuda Isao, I'm either practicing or watching my sister, either way, I can't come to the phone right now, so please leave me a message telling me how wonderful I am—"

The phone shook as her fingers threatened to drop the device. Every time she heard his voice a small part of her felt like it might just crawl up and die.

Tsuna smothered the small sob against the back of his hand. She could picture him now, sitting in the small padded practice room, cello between his legs, intentionally ignoring his calls as he worked out a particularly difficult section in a piece of music.

She dropped her phone on the soft bed covers, fingers finally giving up the fight. She could cross an ocean to get away, but hearing his voice still brought out unimaginable pain.

Though no tears fell, her breath came harsh and heavy, rattling her rib cage and awakening phantom pains from falls she'd thought long since healed.

The call hadn't disconnected; it was like he was still waiting for her on the other side, sitting, patiently waiting for her to speak.

She hung up.

·‡·

1/11/13

7-mile jog

15: 200-meter sprints

30 box-jump sets

30 seconds on, 10 seconds' rest

10 squat sets

25 core sets

3 hours ice time

2 hours ballet

20-minute visualization