"Attention, everyone," Coach Oh pulled out a white blank slate still bearing the ink marks from last time, vaguely wiped away. The whole team was gathered, regaining their breath with more or less ease, bottle in hand, helmets under their arms. The man uncorked his marker with his teeth then pointed to the rink's gigantic four-sided scoreboard. The weekend's schedule was scrolling there and one event, in particular, was flashing red. "Friday night, we're playing a decisive game. You all know the Osaka team is second best so far. If we lose, we also lose any chance of being in the top three. Is that clear?"

Everyone nodded, keenly focused. Although often, well outside of training, the team acted more like a bunch of friends than teammates; they knew how primordial group cohesion was. Naturally, a proper understanding between players is a pillar of team sport, but it is not the only requirement either. No, what makes a good team strong is the ability of each player to improvise based on common cohesion and this over and above emotional connections. A successful team is not only a team where players are united, but it's a team where everyone perceives what is best to do.

"Choi Yena," Cocho began, pointing his marker at number 04, who seemed pleasantly surprised. He scribbled a blue cross to the right of the centre face-off and pointed the pen at the right-wing again. "I want you leading in right-wing offensive, like yesterday, okay?"

Minjoo and Yena exchanged an enthusiastic look, proud of the latter's considerable progress within the team. Sure, she wasn't one of the shortlisted players to join the N2, but in five months, she still had plenty of time to prove herself, and the fact that the coach was starting to exploit her skill was a promising sign. Even though the competition and the level were paramount, and her place in the N2 was already ensured, Minjoo could only hope that Yena would join her, to continue playing together as they did so well for years. So they got focused again when Coach scribbled something else.

"Seohan, I want you to stand over there," the man pointed to the left side of the face-off, sweeping his gaze over the entire team before planting it in the short-haired player’s. "There, there, and you play hard backcheck, understood? Lead the game, as usual, organise it well around Minjoo. Kim Minjoo. I want to see you always near the net. Not on the sides, in the middle, drive wide. Good. Jaehyuc and Daehyeon, let's jam, okay? You go in. I don't want to see anything hit the net. And most importantly, you play on the backs! Back, back and back again! Bank and block shots, don't screen and battle. Understood?  Intak, don't hesitate to tell the others to get out of the way if they crowd your area..."

This went on for a few more minutes as Coach Oh reminded the other players of their roles and positions for this game, those who only came in when the main five were sent to the bench, unfortunately. But playing positions were likely to change as some left for the N2. Anyways, Coach Oh pointed to the orange cones he had set up during the break for a drill once everyone was briefed thoroughly.

Thus, Minjoo went at breakneck speed in second after Seohan, starting in the centre, executing a turn around the first circle, then the second before skating quickly to the first cone. She made a sharp turn around it and repeated the move to the second plot, finally replicating this for about twenty minutes before eventually going into play. Yoon Changsung, the N2 head coach and game coordinator, had joined Coach Oh for the second half-hour to help record speed and shot accuracy. He was also there to observe his future new players, attentive and focused, carefully taking notes on every positive or negative action. Minjoo could feel his sharp gaze on her too. She had even managed a bold little trick that defeated Intak's defence, which put her in a confident mood when she returned to the bleachers after the shower.

As on previous nights, stripped of all her heavy equipment, she found the rink much colder and quieter. The Zamboni passed slowly over the battered ice, and the brightest spotlights were turned off, leaving a subdued atmosphere on the rink. Apparently, Yu Jimin didn't have ice training that night because of the coaches' meeting, and Minjoo took advantage of the absence of classical pieces to turn down the volume of her own music and close her eyes. Her heavy feet were slowly recovering from the uncomfortable feeling of tight skates compressing her soles. Although she always took the risk of not lacing her Bauer skates properly all the way up, much to her parents annoyance every time they came to watch her play, they were still rigid enough that the feeling of having her feet in loose sneakers was divine. Besides, Minjoo didn't care about practicality and wore once again a pair of wide sweatpants and a T-shirt stolen from her older brother last weekend. 

Legs stretched out in front of her, one hand in her pocket, the second merely holding her phone, she waited for time to pass. If Minjoo had read the email more carefully, she might have known Yu Jimin wasn't even practising on ice on Thursday, and that would have saved her from sitting alone for two hours instead of one. But it was too late, and she had only herself to blame, so she resolved to doze off until a crash startled her. Far from Viderski's knocking, it was Kim Chaewon's bag, which had left only one seat between them this time. Talk about progress and character development.

"What are you doing here already?" Questioned the pink-haired skater, sitting down much more gracefully. Though the question seemed abrupt, she had asked it with amusement, and Minjoo wondered the same anyway.

Deep sighing, straightening up a bit, she shrugged, "I usually don't go back to my dorm."

"You wait here every time?" Chaewon insisted.

"Yeah." Once more, Minjoo was shaken by the national skater's mere presence beside her. Her numb feet and heavy legs seemed to fade away as soon as the other's gaze was on her. It was a good thing she was used to the stress. Otherwise, she would have shrivelled up in her seat, melting like ice in mid-summer. 

Chaewon didn't answer anything but let out a small laugh before taking out her phone and settling more comfortably, hiding her chin in her white jacket's collar. Her pink hair was pulled up into a tight high ponytail which revealed silver earrings, a tiny chickenpox scar, two moles and probably a bunch more things Minjoo would have noticed if she hadn't thought that looking at someone so intensely was too creepy. Therefore as she redirected her attention to the resurfacer making the ice liquid again, she didn't notice the little side glance the skater gave her. And Minjoo could even less notice that Chaewon was grinning, lips hidden in the collar of her jacket.

A few quiet minutes passed as the week's programme scrolled across the gigantic electronic scoreboard. Minjoo saw her team several times, posing in lines on the rink, Intak in the centre, the mascot puck in front of their feet. It was undeniable joining the N2 for the next season was ideal for her progression. Indeed, it was about upgrading her level, increasing her possibilities of evolution within the Training Centre, but also of performances in national hockey. However, a small part of her would resent leaving the team she had formed a beautiful bond with. Of course her Doksan teammates, especially Yena, were her first friends and the ones with whom she had discovered the sport that gave rhythm to her life, but those of the HTC were different. Because more than succeeding in joining the prestigious centre, they lived through this intense transition in their lives between district and national players.

With Seohan, Yena, Jiung, Intak and the others, she spent hours playing around on the bus, clandestine evenings hidden in a hotel room to hang out without getting chewed out by the coaches. She also experienced her first big frustrations of losing a decisive match by taking two goals in the last three minutes or that frustration of being unfairly shoved without the penalty being counted by a dishonest referee and many others. But also, and above all, Minjoo experienced laughter in the dressing room, shouting and jumping around, creating foam baths to celebrate a victory. No, really, she loved them, but on the other hand, she knew what was good for her.

Anyway, she still had quite a lot of time before making a final decision. Of course, her change of team was becoming more and more concrete, but the choice was still hers at the end of the day. However, for now, Minjoo opted to focus back on the pretty skater sitting a seat away from her. It wasn't the time to doubt switching teams, but time to finally break the ice with Chaewon. Still figuratively speaking, but for real, this time.

After a slight encouraging sigh, she took out one of her earphones and nudged Chaewon on the shoulder. 'Kim Minjoo! think with your head, not your feet!' as her Doksan coach would repeatedly yell at her from the benches, so she spoke again without pondering too much about it, in the most spontaneous way possible. "You're a bit of a star, aren't you?"

"Me?" Chaewon cocked an eyebrow, then sent her ponytail back in a falsely pretentious gesture as she batted her eyelashes. Oh , she was so pretty. "You didn't know?"

"Do I need an appointment with your manager to get a follow back?" In a defiant tone, Minjoo did what she knew she was doing the best at, going straight ahead, charging at full speed, and shooting at the goal. Sure, Kim Chaewon intimidated her, but that didn't mean she actually lost her manners, let alone her facility of making girls giggle. “I’m not a fan, yet.”

"You need an appointment with my secretary if you want to meet my manager," surprising as it was, the Kim Chaewon, whose exploits were plastered on the walls of the rink, got into her game, and her gaze was enough to make Minjoo's head spin. To make it better, Chaewon did even more than a simple follow back, as she handed her phone to the hockey player, already open on the application.

Well. Despite her fearless go-for-broke mentality, sometimes, having crossed the blue line, Minjoo would find herself confronted with situations that caught her a little off guard. Could it be a defenseman coming from the back, the power-play running out or anything else, but absolutely not Kim Chaewon's brand new iPhone in her hands. Minjoo's heart missed a beat as she processed it, then a second beat when Chaewon smoothly leaned over her shoulder, then a third when she had to swipe off a message from a boy that appeared on top of the screen. This detail gave her a stick hit in the stomach, but she disregarded it, convincing herself that it didn't mean anything since she herself was mainly talking to boys. Anyway, Minjoo followed her own profile from Chaewon's account, missing the pleasant sensation of having the skater over her shoulder when she took her phone back and settled on her seat.

Acting as nonchalantly as possible, Minjoo shoved her hands back into her sweatpants pockets, a leg bouncing on the ground, biting her lips hard to keep from smiling too much as, out of the corner of her eye, she saw the skater going through her highlights. Good thing she hadn't spent two hours rearranging them the night before after training for nothing. Indeed, it was all premeditated. And her plan has been going perfectly so far.

"Eunbi just sent a text," Chaewon informed, breaking the silence minutes later. She pulled back from the blue seat and tightened her ponytail before stretching her arms roughly over her head. A small moan of comfort escaped her, and Minjoo thought she was about to faint with how adorable she was. "She's gonna be there in a few, but the room's open so we can start warming up."

The two young ice prodigies grabbed their bags and belongings to leave the main rink, where the temperature was dropping rapidly. Indeed, it had been dark outside for a long time already, and this late, to keep the ice cool and damp, the place was no longer heated. Anyone venturing in without winter underclothes, gloves and fleece jackets would freeze to death. Thus even though Minjoo much preferred practising on-ice, she really didn't mind going to a warm and cosy gym room right now.

Chaewon led the way, walking in silence through the expanse of corridors with dark grey rubber floor and ceiling that matched the light blue of the centre surprisingly well. The skater undoubtedly knew this labyrinth by heart, and they eventually entered a room a little larger than the one they'd used the last few times. A mirror spanned an entire wall, grey carpets covered most of the floor, and a harness hung from the ceiling with straps. Being a stranger to figure skating training’s secrets, Minjoo thought the place looked like a torture room or something Christian Grey would hide in his crib. 

"We're going to work on lifts today since Chi Hyunjung doesn't want us to do the program," the skater explained, pressing a button that triggered the shutters to fasten and the straps to retract, going back up to the ceiling.

Chaewon's tone betrayed her frustration, and Minjoo couldn't help but narrow her eyes, "Is it because of me?"

"It's because of Hyunjin who thought he could double axel in his dorm," Chaewon corrected, but still, she offered something looking like a favourable smile. "It's not your fault. She's just... yeah, and the fact that you're not a skater is not clicking."

This only proved right the clichés and rumours swirling around the centre, especially in the winter sports section. People were saying skaters were intransigent, unfunny and very self-centred. Despite questioning a possible crush and things aside, Minjoo thought Chaewon pretty much matched many of these statements, but Eunbi had made the difference with her benevolence. Nevertheless, Chi Hyunjung just scrambled the scales again. The old champion had been condescending from the start, and in fact, Minjoo was glad she didn't have to spend another two hours with a woman who questioned all her skating skills because they didn't fulfil her different expectations. Because yes, if it wasn't for the South Korean National Championships in a few weeks, any skater from the centre could have done the job. But they were all too busy with their own practices, and besides being the best skater in the hockey division, Minjoo was the fastest emergency solution. Yes, she was just in the rink when they needed someone, right place, right moment.

However, the hockey player couldn't help but feel guilty. It wasn't entirely her fault, and she was only there to support, but her face betrayed her thoughts as Chaewon spoke once more.

"I don't like her," she said, still setting up a few things in the room, like the speaker and the television. "To be honest, she's a ."

The words caused a chuckle from Minjoo. Who would have thought that the centre's dear darling, promised to the Olympics and already world champion, could so straightforwardly call her respected coach a ? Not to be romantic, but Minjoo found it downright hot. Because despite their splendid bodies, faces, posture, dazzling talent and elegance, figure skaters were, nevertheless, teens, like everyone else. Also, when Chaewon noticed that the confession had made her almost-partner laugh, she couldn't hold back her own giggle.

"No but true," the hockey player confirmed from her own experience and opinion of the person. "She's Viderski but Korean and you can’t make fun of her."

"Oh my, exactly," Chaewon nodded vividly, almost glad to have someone to openly criticise her coach with. After all, national medalist or not, she was still a seventeen or eighteen year old girl—Minjoo didn’t even know yet—, and her professionalism stopped at the borders of sentimentality, apparently. "I don't get what's with this club and having uptight trainers. She's so..."

As they began to warm up, first the neck and then the shoulders, the two girls continued the trial of poor Chi Hyunjung, who deserved it, in their opinion. According to Chaewon, the woman possessed many conformist and backward beliefs that did not evolve, exploiting them too much. Also, she would make many inappropriate remarks about the costumes, such as blaming Hyunjin for putting on too much glitter and make-up or having too long hair. Or she was too unfavourable regarding new concepts, opting to follow the norms and the already-made rather than trying to innovate. To put it simply, Chaewon hated her closed-mindedness, thus she shared about the old coach's evident reluctance at seeing two girls skating together.

"How does that even matter?" snorted Minjoo at this revelation. Sitting on the floor with her feet together and her legs spread to stretch her adductors, she listened to every Chaewon's complaints, but this one, in particular, made her wince. "It's not for a competition or anything. I mean, I’m not going to do it with you anyway.”

Chaewon shrugged, radically more comfortable with the exercise as her thighs touched the floor without difficulty.

Finally, and as if to spare what was left of the champion Chi Hyunjung, Eunbi stumbled into the room, repeating apologies. Apparently, the meeting had gone on longer because of a scheduling error they couldn't agree on correcting. Now that she was here, the practice could finally begin, and this one had absolutely nothing to do with the previous ones. Those few minutes spent warming up and trash-talking had made Minjoo feel a little more relaxed in Chaewon's intimidating company, but it wasn't enough for her to face what was coming.

-

The program created by Chaewon for the South Korean Figure Skating Championships, aka Olympic qualification, was a daunting challenge. Not only because the music was so passionate and sensual, requiring movements to match the flow, but also because the elements included difficulty. There were two triple jumps, one of which Hyunjin had to perform in addition to a double, two quads, but also a significant number of impressive lifts and three different throws. Lifts coming mostly from the boy's knowledge of contemporary dance, introducing them into a choreography on ice represented a real challenge that would demand a lot of work. And for the first time since this help-for-practice thing began, Minjoo found herself really useful. Because without her partner, Chaewon could skate, but she couldn't go into the air. Needless to say, she was a skater, not a wizard.

Deep concentration could be read on Eunbi's now vigilant features, standing a few centimetres away from them, hands ready for additional support. Minjoo understood her role well, contracting her abs, stiffening her arms and accompanying the movement. Eunbi counted, and Chaewon took a swing, throwing herself into the air as Minjoo reached out to extend the motion's synergy and hoist the skater over her head with ease now that the movement was acquired. This was the most simple lift in the program. It lasted a few seconds, during which Hyunjin would perform a pivot making them spin, allowing them to arrive in a left curve and then follow up with the first Lutz. With ease, Chaewon brought her legs back along Minjoo's body, giving them the momentum to return to the ground.

Handling the creating process, being the original choreographer, Chaewon herself supervised the lifts she included in the program’s conditions. Seeing her invested made her responsible, and Minjoo was almost impressed by her commitment and seriousness. The hockey player could tell Chaewon was devoting herself and enjoying what she was producing, the way she had prepared a little video with slow motions and annotations to clarify the arm positions and the added movements. Eunbi had a lot to be proud of, and it showed in her eyes.

"Are you sure this is going to match the speed differences?" The personal coach asked, fiddling with her lip, very carefully as if she were visualising the lift in motion.

Minjoo remained silent, nervously biting her nails. It wasn't categorically the thought of having to do this that flustered her, no. It was the thought of being like the couple in the video. To have Kim Chaewon so close, against her, above her. Her heart was perfectly resistant to pressure, adrenaline, stress, relatively well to criticism and remarks, hardly to pretty girls, but to Kim Chaewon and her pink hair... she didn't bet on it too much. So far, they had only skated side by side or face to face, holding hands and shoulders to share their strength and speed and that first easy lift. This was nothing like that, and her legs fluttered when Chaewon gave her a quick look meaning 'let's go'.

"Minjoo!" Eunbi flicked her fingers, suddenly commanding the attention of the hockey player who was confused again, too dutifully. "You have to squeeze her hip really hard. Roll your back up, and it will slide right off."

Roll up her back, grab her hip... On the first try, Chaewon didn't manage to throw her legs high enough, and on the second and with a bit more momentum, she succeeded. Her first leg passed right by Minjoo's neck as the latter rolled her back, carefully to do as Eunbi told. It took Minjoo several breaths to get past the skater's floral scent and manage to grip her arms to keep her in the air, just like the first lift. She did right, and with one last push, Chaewon landed on the soft mattress. Eunbi clapped her hands, and they immediately did it again, going faster and faster, with more and more precision. With ease, that second lift could be green crossed on Chaewon's list, and it was now time to move on to another one.

"Alright then here, Minjoo no," approaching, Eunbi corrected the hockey player's posture, then correctly positioned her hand around Chaewon's forearm. "Always keep your body stiff, one solid hand in front of her hip for stability, okay? And move your torso back, a little. Especially accompany the arm's movement, or she could dislocate her shoulder. When she's done rotating, same thing, a slight push, and she'll land. Alright?"

It was a lot of information to process, but Minjoo nodded firmly, nervously tightening her grip around Chaewon's forearm, feeling the latter do the same. With all the mental and physical strength the hockey player possessed, she tried to keep her hand steady, but it gave up as soon as Chaewon began her rotation. Minjoo immediately let go of her arm to avoid twisting it but found herself stumbling as the skater fell heavily on her . It wasn't so bad, though, since Eunbi was almost laughing, and Chaewon was already back on her feet, pushing her bangs out of her eyes.

"What happened to your front aerial?" The figure skate coach teased gently as her student pulled her ponytail tighter again, under Minjoo's attentive gaze. At this point, she wasn't even trying to suppress it.

Chaewon retorqued back and, with a flip of the wrist, required her new partner to step aside. This was what differed between those two ice-loving sports. One liked speed and contact, while the other apparently simply loved risking their life. Yet you might think it wasn't that difficult, given the ease with which skaters executed such complex and hazardous movements, but alas. In reality, skaters were much more versatile and adventurous than hockey players, and Kim Chaewon proved it by taking a few steps before performing a front aerial almost perfectly. It was really getting annoying how much she could do. But it was impressive, so Minjoo grinned like a child at an acrobat show, quickly clapping her hands.

Nevertheless, if Chaewon could do an aerial without a parry, then the previous failure was Minjoo’s fault. Therefore they tried five or six times, improving a few details like the takeoff and the rotation, though it took a few more minutes for the landing to be fluid. Because, of course, it had to be remembered that all this was going to be done on the ice. Not for the hockey player, but the other one would not escape.

Eunbi permitted a drink break, the time she needed to familiarise herself with the next lift, which was much more complex than the first two and included different motions.

Unhurriedly, already more at ease than the first few times, Minjoo approached the skater to mimic a slap that would simply graze her cheek. That was her own clumsy way of getting Chaewon's attention, but it had worked before, and it worked again as the skater dodged it, a thin smile on her lips. In the end, Kim Chaewon wasn't that intimidating when you were the one going up to her, maybe Eunbi was right, and she was just very reserved. Anyways, it felt nice to be with her, especially here in the warmth, holding her tightly while she did her incongruous pirouettes.

"You should tie your hair," the skater advised between sips, her cheeks rosy from the effort.

With a mouthful of water, likewise, Minjoo solely raised both wrists and shrugged. She retained a bad habit of losing all her hair ties, whether in the shower or bed, stealing one discreetly from Yena's bag whenever possible. Moreover, not to change, she had forgotten the recently stolen one in the locker room after training, preferring to let her hair dry and curl in the very cool air rather than turn around to get it. But in the end, she was right to be lazy, as Chaewon removed a small black hair tie from her own wrist and lent it to her.

It didn't take much for the hockey player to fold, and making a lowponytail with Kim Chaewon's hair tie was enough. She even had to bite her cheek to keep from smiling over something this trivial, but it was cute, so she hopped back to Eunbi, ready to do anything now. Anything but this.

"I really don't get what's going on," she confessed, both hands on her hip in utter bewilderment as the skaters replayed the video again and again with more and more pauses and clarifications. It retained nothing to do with her being bad at science —although that was, for sure, a factor— she didn't physically understand how anyone could go from this position to that position. No matter how many times the video repeated with slow motion and guidance.

"Ugh, Minjoo," with very little exasperation, Chaewon replayed the passage of the first rotation for the umpteenth time, clearly getting annoyed. In another circumstance, Minjoo would've probably giggled. Because, one, it was funny, and two, it was the first time Chaewon had said her name, making her feel all giddy and things. Hence she squinted her eyes, bringing all her strength trying to figure out what anti-gravitational force could cause the body to produce that kind of rotation. "You just have to push me up. That's literally all."

Yeah, cute, 'ugh Minjoo'. But then again, it couldn't be that complicated, right. They moved into position, and after cocking an eyebrow, impressed by the skater's flexibility who could lift one leg sideways over her head, Minjoo narrowly missed having a . The movement was fast, too fast, and she fell forward, cushioning herself on Chaewon's body, who took most of the fall. This was only the first fall of an interminable series of attempts until the first step was taken. However, there was a new and equally frustrating obstacle to struggle with.

Chaewon's not-so-fit shirt would get caught on Minjoo's shoulder, resulting in her getting stuck there while the how-so-poor hockey player would get stifled head first in the skater's exposed belly, forcing them to stop and start again. With each new failed attempt, Minjoo weakened a little more from her tired hands and the smell and feel of Chaewon's body engulfing all her senses. So much that when the latter removed her shirt in annoyance to minimise the clashes, Minjoo felt her heart miss two consecutive beats, the redness from her cheeks going to her ears and her legs about to give up.

During the following break, she couldn't even contain herself anymore. No, to be honest, her gaze never wavered from the skater, checking her eagerly as she tried recovering her breath between sips. Firstly because Chaewon was so pretty that air was becoming hard to find. Second, this was the first time, in any context, that the hockey player had been so physically close to someone, and she already missed the burning sensation of her hand firmly attached to the pink-haired girl's waist. Thirdly and lastly, Minjoo was usually rather proud of her abs. Given the effort she went through at the gym to make them visible, she had reason to want to show them off. Often, talking to girls, she would find a subtle way to lift her shirt enough to reveal those, drawing ego-boost compliments. Unfortunately, that wouldn't work with Chaewon since she had fifteen times as much. Without exaggeration and a bit of envy, in every sense of the word, Minjoo ogled the defined lines on the skater's bare, pale stomach in her sports bra, swallowing hard that last sip of water.

To impress Chaewon, she would have to find something more innovative than abs. And skate, apparently. But right now, she was out of ideas, so she decided that doing the lift right would be enough. And so they did it again and again, until the motions became slow, arms and legs shaking with weariness.

-

Back at the dorm, when it was dark in the corridors and no one ventured out of their room, Minjoo entered hers, dropping all her bags on the vacant bed. Her arms felt like her legs after an intensive hamstring session with Cocho; they were numb with exhaustion. Not that Chaewon was heavy or unmanageable, just that the practice had been like two and a half hours of lifting weights, and the hockey player couldn't take it anymore. So much that brushing her teeth and face was torture before she dropped to her bed like dead weight.

Yena was already asleep, wrapped in her blanket with only one leg sticking out to regulate the temperature. Tomorrow was going to be a long day, counting classes and the afternoon off to prepare for the game, so Minjoo hurried to make herself comfortable under the covers. Before shutting her eyes, however, she grazed the hair tie around her wrist. Pinching her lips, she sent a direct message to Chaewon, saying she would have to pay a ransom to get it back.