Under Siege

The headlines did not take long to appear. The direction they went was both surprising and not.

“Hayasaka’s flaw found out: Fujimoto Ayaka.”

“Silver medal due to Fujimoto Ayaka?”

“Does dating harm results for national athletes?”

“Ah, there they are,” Ayaka muttered, scrolling through her phone. “Things were too tame yesterday.”

Kanae reached over and covered the screen with her hand. “Look forward while you walk.”

The two figure skating stars continued toward the rink for group practice. All Japan was almost here, the last major event before the Olympics, and this was the worst possible moment for a distraction like this to explode.

As they turned the corner, a wall of reporters swarmed the entrance to the rink. Ayaka and Kanae exchanged wide‑eyed looks, inhaled deeply, and kept walking as if they had not noticed the pack waiting for them.

The flashes hit almost instantly. Both girls lifted their hands to shield their eyes from the lights. The reporters surged forward, descending on them like a buffet, ravenous and relentless. Questions flew so quickly and so loudly that even if they had wanted to answer, it would have been impossible to understand a single one.

The blur of questions was easy enough to guess.

“How long have you been dating?” “Did this distract Hayasaka‑san?” “Don’t you owe the public an apology?”

The last one made Ayaka wince. Why would she owe the public an apology for having a life? She was human too.

They bowed politely, forced strained smiles, and pushed their way through the crowd until they slipped inside the rink’s doors. The moment they shut behind them, the chaos outside became a muffled roar.

Every skater on the ice was staring at them; some curious, some annoyed, some silently blaming them for the mess.

Well… maybe they had caused it. Sort of.

“Cannibals,” Ayaka confirmed under her breath.

Kanae burst into laughter, the kind that came from pure relief at having survived the ambush with minimal damage. But their moment did not last long — Emiri stepped directly into their path, her expression far too fierce for someone her age.

“Do something about your friends,” she snapped.

Her frustration was not surprising. She had not met expectations this season, and her only shot at the Olympic team was to take gold at Nationals. Ayaka understood exactly how the reporters could rattle her.

Ayaka opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, she caught Reiko’s eye across the rink. One look was enough. They both knew what this meant.

Ayaka would probably need to go into private training earlier than planned this year.

Order was in short supply at the swimming facility as well. Ren and Takeru flanked Kaito, trying to shield him as they made their way toward the pool. Reporters shouted over one another, but one question finally cut through the noise.

“Were you distracted during the Olympics?”

A ridiculous question to anyone with common sense.

Kaito stopped. For the first time in his career, he turned to face the reporters head‑on.

“I broke the old record too,” he said, voice steady. “How could I do that without pure focus?”

It was probably the longest answer the press had ever gotten out of him. The reporters, who knew him, actually paused their relentless assault for a second.

Daichi appeared out of nowhere, grabbed his athlete by the arm, and hauled him inside. “Now you’re willing to talk to reporters?”

Kaito only gave a sly shrug, offering no explanation, and headed toward his teammates by the pool. He was unsure why; he just did not like the question.

That evening, Ayaka sat in the passenger seat of Reiko’s car, surrounded by the familiar perfume that always made her feel safe. They were headed out of Tokyo to the quiet rink they’d used for private practices ever since she joined the national team.

Ayaka’s phone rang. Reiko glanced over.

“If it’s reporters, turn it off,” she instructed.

But the screen lit up Ayaka’s face, and her smile practically reflected the glow at Reiko. She did a tiny happy wiggle, proudly showing her coach the caller ID. Relief washed over Reiko’s features; the girl needed this.

“Okaasan! I am being hunted, help!” Ayaka chirped, finally sounding like herself again.

“You’re not the only one,” her mother replied, her tone unusually serious. “Reporters actually showed up at Yui’s school.”

Ayaka shot upright so fast that Reiko flinched, worried she had hurt herself.

“Can they do that?” Ayaka demanded, not even trying to hide her concern.

Reiko, normally strict about not interrupting phone calls, could not hold back. “What happened?”

“The reporters showed up at Yui’s school,” Ayaka repeated immediately.

Reiko pulled the car over without a word, stepped out, and began calling someone; Ayaka had no idea who. She was left alone in the car, heart pounding.

“I think Reiko‑sensei is going to take care of it,” Ayaka told her mother, though she was not sure if she was reassuring her or herself.

Keiko was pacing in their rural home; Ayaka could hear the movement through the phone. “A few showed up at the house too, but your Otousan sent them away.”

Her grip tightened around the phone. No matter how bad things had gotten before, the reporters had never gone to her hometown. Hearing her mother’s distress made Ayaka’s anger rise, steady and fierce.

Reiko returned to the car and dropped her phone into the center cupholder with more force than necessary. The raw anger radiating off her reminded Ayaka that she had to stay steady; for her mother, for her coach, even for Kaito.

“They shouldn’t show up at your sister’s school again,” Reiko said, her voice clipped. The words brought Ayaka a wave of relief. “But there’s not much we can do about your home for now.” That part clearly infuriated her.

“Did you hear that, Okaasan?” Ayaka asked into the phone.

Keiko’s frantic pacing had slowed; Ayaka could barely hear it now. “Your Otousan can take care of the house,” her mother said, calmer than before. “As long as your imouto is safe.”

“I’m heading into seclusion early,” Ayaka told her. “I suppose you can guess why.”

Her mother did not hesitate. “Good.”

Keiko was simply relieved that her two girls were safe. She could handle the rest.

“Should I let Yui come see you again this time?” she asked — a question that had never been a question before.

Ayaka paused. The more she thought about it… “Cannibals,” she muttered under her breath.

She let the anger drain out with that one word, then forced a bright smile into her voice.

“How could I win another medal if she wasn’t there to support me?” She gasped dramatically. “Are you trying to pry an imouto away from her onee‑chan?”

Her mother cleared her throat. “I guess that means she can go?”

“Yes!” Yui’s cheer rang out in the background.

Ayaka laughed, and her mother joined her. In the driver’s seat, Reiko was still fuming, gripping the wheel like she wanted to strangle the reporters.

After the call ended, Ayaka finally checked the comments to see how bad things had gotten.

“I saw her in the stands during his meet. She didn’t even care that he only got silver.”

“Fujimoto bringing Olympic disaster wherever she goes.”

“How could the committee let her go to a summer Olympics with the team anyway?”

Not as vicious as she had feared. The reporters were still the real problem.

“Why did they go to my hometown this time?” she asked quietly.

Reiko let out a long, tired sigh. “That’s the difference between sports reporters and gossip reporters.”

“Ah. A different tribe,” Ayaka muttered.

She looked back at her phone as new messages popped up; ones that bothered her slightly more.

“Talk about opposites attract: a sweet hottie and a rude munchkin.”

“Guess Hayasaka‑san is the type that only cares about looks.”

“Does she have blackmail material on him?”