four years later.

A tinny, loud noise rang through the large manor – the very one that stood atop a hill overlooking all of Seoul, the one which several hundred people would take pictures of every day, the one belonging to South Korea’s most famous group.

Cheerleading group.

“Is someone going to get that?” Jihyo yelled from her spot on the loveseat, where she was enjoying another novel by her favorite author. She sighed, and adjusted her glasses, huffing in frustration. At the age of twenty-one, she was still quite young, but she acted like a fourty year old. The single mom, taking care of three rowdy girls. She never got a moment’s peace, not until now, when they had finally embarked on their month long vacation. One month of no practice (unless they wanted to), one month of free time. And Jihyo preferred that free time to be filled with reading her book. She glanced at the door, hoping to god no more fans would come and ask for autographs. She was tired.

Dahyun didn’t hear Jihyo’s scream. She was in the basement, headphones blasting music into her ears as she took turns staring at the study material on the coffee table in front of her and staring at the mini bar distastefully. She was now twenty, which meant she wasn’t a minor anymore and she could drink, but she had never developed a liking for alcohol. God knew how many times she was encouraged to drink at parties, but everything she tried was disgusting. (Coffee and tea were more up her alley.) And she wasn’t even the party kind of girl anymore. She’d rather sit in a comfy environment, with pen and paper at hand, and write. Write anything, from short stories to essays. Writing was her passion, along with cheerleading. In fact, the study material she was dutifully scanning? It was for an exam for the writing college Dahyun so badly wanted to get into.

“The phone is nowhere near me,” Tzuyu informed, poking her head out of the kitchen, which was on the same floor as Jihyo – the first floor, the main floor. She gave a sweet smile to Jihyo as the older one turned around, the very smile that would turn the other girl into mush. “And besides, I’m cooking dinner right now.” She turned her attention back to the pans in front of her after Jihyo smiled back. Though Tzuyu was still the youngest (always would be) at nineteen years old, she was unarguably the most mature out of all of them. She had a deeper understanding of things, and Jihyo often joked she would leave cheerleading and become a philosopher when she grew older. For now, Tzuyu focused on cooking. She was amazing at it, too; taking lessons from a professional cook had paid off. She had even cooked for select restaurants and wowed both customers and chefs with the intricate dishes and new flavors she managed to create. Jihyo highly appreciated her cooking, comparing it to art. Dahyun scarfed it all up and didn’t waste a thought on it.

“Fine, fine, I’ll get it,” Nayeon called irritably from the second floor, just barely managing to hear Jihyo’s yell above the pounding music. Then again, she was in the large practice room, and the walls were sound proof, so while she almost didn’t hear Jihyo, Jihyo didn’t hear the music. Nayeon switched her phone on and pressed pause, and the speakers immediately stopped playing music. She took a deep breath, letting her body cool down from the complicated and tough routine she was just practicing. Grabbing the bottle of water, she stormed out of the room and to the ringing landline, which was – unfortunately – in her room, right beside the practice room. She picked it up, uncapping the bottle of water while she did so. “Hello?”

“Nayeon?” The quiet voice of Nayeon’s manager filled Nayeon’s ears. She took a quick sip from her water before answering. “Yes? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, nothing’s wrong.” Nayeon brought the bottle of water back to her lips as her manager talked. “We just got a request a few minutes ago. A team wants to hold a mock competition.”

“Do they know we’re on vacation?” Nayeon set her bottle down, leaning against the wall. She heard footsteps coming up the stairs and following those footsteps were more footsteps. Only two seconds later were Tzuyu, Jihyo, and Dahyun all standing in front of her, wearing expressions of expectation and surprise. “We have a whole month of rest. I thought it was made clear that we were not to be disturbed.”

“Yes, they’re very aware. More aware than you think.” The worried edge to her manager’s voice made Nayeon straighten immediately, her shoulders tense. “I know I shouldn’t be distracting you from this period of rest you’ve rightfully earned, but I think you’ll want to come. And I also think it’ll do you all some good. You won’t be rusty. I’ll drive you to the place they decided upon.”

Nayeon sighed, mouthing the words Someone wants to perform against us in a mock competition to the girls in front of her, who all nodded, each now wearing expressions of exasperation. “Alright. Give us twenty minutes to get ready.” She hung up, crossing her arms. “So, we have a match in roughly half an hour. It’s a mock one, obviously, but you guys know the drill.”

“Yeah, yeah, winning is always the answer,” Dahyun replied, rolling her eyes but not without smiling playfully. Yet there was an edge to that smile, and Nayeon understood why. Nor did she question it, because that edge wasn’t against her. That edge was against something else. “Not the exact words I’d choose, but screw it, you’re right. Anyways, I got us twenty minutes, so hurry up and get ready, otherwise you won’t have extra time to continue doing whatever you were doing.”

The other girls saluted (even more playfully than Dahyun’s earlier statement), then scampered off to their rooms, the doors promptly shutting behind them. Nayeon stood where she was, staring at the bottle of water, abruptly lost in thought. It had been months since their last competition, and they had won that rather easily. Every team knew of the legendary Im Nayeon and her professional team, which had toured the world and beaten every single formerly unbeaten cheerleading team, from the Americas, to Europe, to Asia. Now, just who was this team, asking for a match? They were definitely people who had squared off with Nayeon’s team, otherwise Nayeon wouldn’t have heard the familiarity in her manager’s voice. And it certainly sounded like the manager knew this team well, meaning Nayeon and her teammates did, too. But...who?

Sighing, Nayeon gently closed the door to her room (for privacy of course, in case Dahyun or Jihyo decided to run in and take pictures of her body for blackmail like they did a week ago) and turned to her closet, where her cheerleading outfit hung, neatly ironed and washed and ready to go. Nayeon took it out and laid it on her bed, staring at it for a few seconds before sighing heavily again and stripping her t-shirt and sweatpants off. It was what she called her dance outfit, and it was what she wore almost every single day. All the other girls had taken up hobbies since their vacation started, and so did Nayeon. Her hobby was dancing. Practicing intricate choreographies, even constructing some of her own. She’d switch from style to style every week, and she had just switched from ballet, which she, for some odd reason, enjoyed quite a lot. She wondered why. The reason was there, but it was just out of reach.

She walked out of her room, her cheerleading outfit fitting perfectly on her body (meaning she hadn’t gained any weight, despite Tzuyu cooking meals that were sure to make Nayeon fatter than she had ever been), and headed downstairs, checking her phone for the time while she was at it. They had fifteen minutes. The other girls, as Nayeon already knew, were downstairs as well. Tzuyu was cooking again, Jihyo was reading again, and Dahyun was studying again, except all of them were wearing their outfits. A certain nostalgia washed over Nayeon as she remembered the days when they went to matches loose and free, in the mindset for having fun. These days, they were more hardened, cold, punishing themselves for the smallest of mistakes and never letting themselves get close to their opponents.

Nayeon remembered a dim practice room. She remembered looking into someone’s eyes and feeling like the world started and ended with them and them only.

Nayeon also remembered winning the competition that determined their future, and she also remembered climbing up the stage to receive her award with bloodshot eyes and a broken heart. From then on, not only had their future changed, but they had changed, when it came to the sport their lives revolved around.

“Okay!” Nayeon clapped her hands together, demanding attention from the other girls, who promptly looked up. “You guys haven’t forgotten the skills we learned, right? Otherwise, I’m telling you, I’m going to make you all go through that intensive training again!”

“No, please, not that again,” Dahyun moaned, dramatically draping herself over Jihyo’s lap and holding a hand up to her forehead. “Do you know how much that drained me?”

“What about you, oh great leader?” Jihyo challenged, a playful glint in her eyes and a wide, gummy grin on her face. Nayeon raised her eyebrows as Jihyo continued, her voice teasing. “You can’t tell us you weren’t exhausted too. I distinctly remember your whining every time we woke up to go to training!”

Nayeon rolled her eyes, jabbing her thumb in Tzuyu’s direction, who she was sure was grateful she wasn’t involved in the teasing. Not for longer, though. “Yeah, but I don’t think anyone was more frustrated than Miss Chou Tzuyu here.”

As a deep red blush took over Tzuyu’s face – just like that day – the girls laughed, recalling a more younger Tzuyu, who slept more than Dahyun and only got up in the morning when cold water was splashed onto her face. “That’s right!” Dahyun yelled, getting to her feet and pointing at Tzuyu. “She was the most immature one! Forget Nayeon, Tzuyu made a whole scene out of it!”

“If you all don’t shut up, I promise you there won’t be any dinner tonight,” Tzuyu threatened, though she was laughing as well and the blush was still present on her face. So they all shut up, but none of them were unable to stop laughing, and they spent the remainder of time laughing. Even as they climbed into their manager’s car, they still laughed, giddy, their whole beings overflowing with happiness.

(It was Nayeon’s plan all along, and she was beyond delighted to see it had worked. But then again, it didn’t take that much to get them to laugh.)

“We’re here.”

Nayeon stared at the venue in front of them, her hands gripping the edge of her seat. She turned to her left, staring at her manager, who wouldn’t meet her eyes. “...Seriously? This is it?”

“Yes.” Her manager didn’t look at Nayeon. (Nayeon noticed her manager’s hands clenching the steering wheel so hard, her knuckles had turned white.) Dead silence followed. And it was only for one reason.

This was the very venue in which Nayeon’s team had practiced and held matches before the competition that shot them to the top. It held so many memories for her team, memories that they once would have cherished, but now only caused them pain.

Two hours late. A team with cold, cold expressions. Nayeon’s broad smile, greeting them.

“Well, let’s go,” Jihyo said with a heavy sigh, climbing out of the car. She held Nayeon’s door open, a knowing and sympathetic smile on her face. “Won’t it be nice? We haven’t been here for years. We’ll get to see if they made any changes since we left.”

“Sure,” Nayeon muttered, getting out of the car. Jihyo shut the door behind her, and together they waited for the two youngest to join them. Dahyun and Tzuyu walked around the car, surprising Nayeon with their rather calm expressions. Was it only Nayeon who felt uneasy? Was Nayeon the only one whose hands wouldn’t stop trembling?

No, she wasn’t alone, for when Nayeon looked closer, she noticed the slight frown on Tzuyu’s face, and Dahyun’s quivering bottom lip. And Jihyo – Jihyo, who had taken Nayeon’s hand in hers and was squeezing it tight – her strong grip wasn’t enough to hide the tremor in her hand, much like Nayeon’s. They all were thinking the same thing.

“So, I’ll stay out here, alright?” Their manager offered them a small smile, only confirming their fears. “You guys will win. I know that as much as you do. Just be yourself, and once you’re done, you don’t have to exchange pleasantries or anything. Leave and before you know it, you’ll be home.”

Nayeon gave their manager a small smile back, nodding. “Yeah, okay. Thanks.” She surveyed her team, giving them all a once-over. They needed to look sharp, not emotionally vulnerable like she knew they were feeling. (She certainly did.) Thankfully, years of experience had hardened all of them, and every member, from Nayeon to Tzuyu, wore a cold, blank expression. More like coldly polite, in Jihyo and Dahyun’s case, but that was okay. As long as none of them were showing their emotions. As long as none of them were displaying their thoughts for all to see. Nayeon nodded again, this time in satisfaction. “Alright, girls, ready to go in?”

No response, just icy silence. Just what Nayeon was expecting from her teammates. She lowered her facial shield and smiled warmly at all of them, receiving relieved, determined smiles in return. It was her way of letting them know they weren’t cyborgs, they still had emotions, they were still allowed to feel. Though they had to cover everything up during matches, it didn’t mean it was who they truly were.

With a final nod, Nayeon turned around, her hand slipping from Jihyo’s, who she hadn’t realized was still beside her the whole time. They walked into the venue, bracing themselves for the worst, Nayeon in the front and the other three flanking her from the back. As they entered the main practice room, Nayeon felt three hands on her back, and fought back a wide, stupid grin. How badly she wanted to show her new opponents the bond she had with her teammates, with the girls who she was practically sisters with. How badly she wished they could go back to the way they were all those years ago, when they were allowed to show how much they loved each other in every breath they took.

Times were different. Nayeon steeled herself, holding her chin up as the three hands removed themselves. Her eyes narrowed against the bright lights of the practice room, and as her eyesight cleared, it wasn’t a smile she was trying to hold back, but a gasp.

The room hadn’t seemed to change from the last time they were there. There were still multiple chairs scattered across the room, and there were still a few tables in the front, where a man and a woman were sitting, presumably the manager of the opposing team and the judge. The space was as roomy as ever, even seeming more large to Nayeon, but she knew it was only because of how long it had been since she had seen the room.

That wasn’t why she was trying so hard not to show any emotion, however.

Across the room, all the way in the corner, were five girls, laughing and talking cheerfully, their voices so loud and so bright, it made Nayeon want to join them to see what the fuss was all about, instead of standing in front of the tables rigidly with her teammates doing the exact same thing beside her. (She noticed Dahyun squirming, and Jihyo curiously peering over Nayeon’s head, though, and that was okay, considering their movements were rather small.)

The girls made their way over to Nayeon’s team, still chattering happily, automatically positioning themselves in the standard form a team was supposed to take; leader in the front, other team members behind. Nayeon swallowed hard, her fingers digging into her palm, and as she heard the small gasps from her teammates, she felt a wave of sadness wash over her.

All this work, and for nothing but going through this again. Nayeon inhaled deeply, her shoulders tensing as the other team approached them, getting closer and closer with every second, their appearances clear as day to Nayeon and her teammates.

A sharp intake of breath – from Tzuyu. A soft exclamation, What? from Dahyun. Silence and a clenched jaw – Jihyo and Nayeon. How did Nayeon know? For she had looked over to her right, and she had seen the expression on Jihyo’s face, the expression she knew very well was mirrorred on her own. With great difficulty, Nayeon turned her attention back to the opposing team, who were seconds away from standing in front of them and starting the official greeting.

Two of them brought up the back. One was slightly chubbier than the other, whereas the other was more muscular than the other. The chubby girl strongly resembled a squirrel. She had thin, choppy, dirty blonde hair down to the small of her back, and her eyes sparkled with laughter. The muscular girl, the one squirrel girl was talking to, had hair that probably would’ve been referred to as the biual bob, though it was obvious muscular girl was gay. Her hair was midnight blue, and she was arm in arm with squirrel girl, both of them smiling widely, looking like the postergirls of positivity.

Then there were the two in the middle. The height difference was jarring. One was a midget, the other one was almost as tall as Tzuyu. (Almost. Not quite there, though.) The midget was also muscular, though not as muscular as the one standing behind her, and her hair looked absolutely gorgeous. It was a rich, black, thick mane that approached her waist. It didn’t stay there for long, though; the midget had a black hairtie on her wrist and tied her hair up with it. The taller girl looked down at her and laughed at the midget’s now messy hair. Taller girl had blonde hair, though the roots of her hair were dark brown, and her legs were probably why she was so tall. She resembled an ostrich, but, as strange as that resemblance sounded, it wasn’t in a bad way. Ostrich girl ruffled the midget’s messy hair, both of them laughing.

And the leader, the girl in the front, the one who had stopped directly in front of Nayeon, as her teammates flanked her. The young woman who had outstretched her hand, a smirk on her face, an expression that just screamed I know what you’re thinking. The person whose body was relaxed and casual, whose once-wavy brown hair was now straight, dark brown hair – length was the same, just below her shoulders – whose lips were still perfect, whose eyes were still perfect, whose everything was still perfect and just as Nayeon remembered they’d be.

Hands joining hands, and Nayeon’s team linked themselves, gripping onto each other like they would a rope out of hell. They were the rope. This situation they found themselves in? Hell.

The leader of the opposing team opened to speak. (It’s all over now, Nayeon thought, her eyes starting to sting and blur with tears.)

“Hello, I’m Myoui Mina, team captain.”

We know that! We know that!

...I know that.

“And you are?”

Nayeon looked down at Mina’s outstretched hand bleakly. Then she looked at Mina. With a soft smile she was perplexed she could manage, she shook her head and replied, “I think you know very well who I am.”