Back on the Throne

Private practices had taken over her life since her return to form. She had not seen Kaito or any of the other skaters in over a month. The rest of the field looked steady; she would need to be at her best. She had already finished first in the short program; all she had to do now was hold onto it.

The door to the ice opened, and she glided out to where she had always belonged. All the usual competitors had made it into the final group: Hoshino Emiri, Mori Kanae, and Tanabe Saki. Japan’s finest. And even at her age, Ayaka intended to show she still outshined them all.

Kanae smiled as they passed each other. Emiri pretended she did not exist. Ayaka finished with a few light jumps and skated over to Reiko, stretching her legs against the boards while listening to her coach’s rapid‑fire reminders.

Up in the stands, Yui watched her sister with barely contained pride, trying not to be distracted by Kaito sitting beside her. Their mother had apparently been right about those two getting close. Yui would have to keep an eye on him; her sister was the best, and she would only accept the best in return.

Ayaka pushed off the boards for one more lap before warm‑ups ended. As she stepped off the ice, she paused and waved at her oldest supporter and her newest, wondering which one would cheer louder.

“Onee‑chan is the best!” came ringing down from the crowd.

Ayaka realized how silly the question had been. Kaito would not last a second in a cheering match against Yui. She waved again to acknowledge them both and slipped the covers over her blades.

She took one last look at the stands and saw Yui mouthing, Win me my medal, while pointing at herself. Ayaka gave her a thumbs up and headed back toward the skaters’ lounge.

Ayaka tucked herself into a quiet corner and watched the live feed on a tablet, alone. The coaches and other skaters knew her routine by heart and did not disturb her.

They all assumed she watched the performances to hype herself up. In truth, she was doing the opposite; creating ridiculous narratives in her head about what the other skaters were thinking, anything to calm herself down.

Kanae was first. Ayaka’s mind immediately wandered to whether the juice boxes might fall out of her costume. She imagined the ice stained red and the crowd gasping in horror. She laughed internally, careful not to let it show; the others already thought she was strange enough.

She allowed herself a quiet fist pump when Kanae’s score came out. It was strong; strong enough that Kanae might steal a medal. No matter how much Ayaka tried to clear her mind, she still supported her friends.

Emiri was next. She had finished the short program in third, aiming for her first senior national medal. Her flawless start made Ayaka think she might even take silver. Then Ayaka imagined her attacking a judge because silver was not good enough. The oohs and aahs from the crowd nearly made Ayaka tear up from holding in her laughter.

But Emiri under‑rotated her final jump pass; no credit for the element. Still good enough for bronze, maybe. Then she wobbled in her step sequence, clearly rattled by the mistake.

Hoshino was unraveling, and Ayaka closed her eyes. She might be a brat, but Ayaka always wanted every competitor to skate their best.

When the scores came in, Emiri did indeed fall behind Kanae. The young skater still smiled and waved. Ayaka almost burst out laughing, imagining the scolding Emiri’s coach would get once the cameras turned off. That was not even her imagination; that was just Emiri.

Saki took her opening pose, looking like a work of art on the ice. Ayaka wanted to watch her; Saki was her favorite of the new generation, but it was almost time. She set the tablet down and began to prepare.

Ayaka emerged from the tunnel and immediately heard the voice she could always pick out at domestic competitions.

“Onee‑chan!”

She never understood how Yui’s voice managed to cut through an entire arena, but she heard it every time. That’s my imouto, she thought, shoulders loosening. She was ready.

She waved to the crowd, smiling as she took a lap around the rink. When she stopped in front of Reiko, most people assumed she was getting last‑minute instructions.

“Reiko‑sensei, relax. This gold is going home with us,” Ayaka said, steady and sure.

Reiko nodded, forcing on her most serious expression. “Right. I got you, and you got this.”

Ayaka gave her nerve‑wrecked coach one last reassuring smile. As she made her way toward center ice, the Fujimoto‑sans rained down cheers from the stands. Here, she was not hated. Here, she was loved. Because this was home.

She settled into her opening pose, and the music rose to meet her.

The faces in the crowd blurred as she passed them with a confident speed that came only from years of dedication. Their cheers felt distant, muffled by the focus of her own heartbeat. She was in the zone; her zone.

She flowed into the corner and leapt. The arena erupted as she landed her triple axel–triple loop combination cleanly. Flawless. This was the best she had felt in a long, long time.

As she leaned back into her next movement, she glanced toward the stands, Yui jumping wildly, Kaito sitting still with a quiet smile meant only for her. That was all the grounding she needed. No overthinking. No fear.

She pulled out of the lean and rose into a flying spin, the ice singing beneath her blades.

She had won gold. She knew it.

No, she had known before the competition even started.

She was back on top.

Ayaka held her finishing pose just long enough to see a familiar teddy bear arc through the air. Yui’s throw, of course. Ayaka broke the pose immediately and skated over to scoop it up; that one was hers.

She waved and bowed to the crowd in all four directions before making her way toward the boards. Reiko was waiting for her, practically vibrating with impatience. She hugged Ayaka before she even stepped fully off the ice.

“You got me, and I got this,” Ayaka said, breathless and glowing.

Reiko pulled back just long enough to look at her, then hugged her again, tighter this time, joy spilling out of her.

Ayaka slipped the covers over her blades and headed to the bench to wait for her scores.

Up in the stands, Yui was already bragging loudly to Kaito, gesturing wildly as if she had personally choreographed the entire routine. Kaito did not respond; his eyes were locked on the scoreboard.

When the numbers flashed onto the screen, Yui shrieked and threw her arms around him. Kaito hugged her back, two strangers united by the brilliance of Fujimoto Ayaka.