What a Queen Can Do

“Representing Japan, Ayaka Fujimoto.” The announcement filtered through the speakers.

Cheers erupted as Ayaka took her usual lap around the ice before settling in. The camera zoomed in close; she looked calm, but there was a sharper edge to her focus tonight.

A male announcer began, “On the ice is an eight‑time Japanese champion, the twenty‑six‑year‑old Ayaka Fujimoto.”

“Yes, and despite a lot of controversy back home, she finds herself in second place,” the female announcer cut in. “Just behind Jiwon Han after the short program.”

“This is her third Olympics,” the male announcer added, “but the first time she’s entered the free skate in such a strong position.”

“Indeed,” the female announcer agreed. “Despite her excellent record elsewhere, she has yet to win an Olympic medal.”

Ayaka settled into her opening pose, her usual bright smile replaced with a look of pure determination as the camera tightened on her face.

“Wow,” the female announcer said softly, “we have seen her so many times with that trademark smile. But today… today she looks fierce.”

The music began, and Ayaka moved with an elegant power that sent her gliding backward. She tilted her head, letting her arms carve expressive patterns through the air.

“Ayaka said this is a program she’s never skated in front of anyone,” the male announcer said. “Not even Kaito.”

The female announcer sounded genuinely shocked. “Are we even allowed to bring him up with all the controversy?”

“I’m just reading the note she left about the program,” he replied.

Ayaka leapt into the air, spinning tightly, and the moment she landed, she was already rising again into another rotation. The crowd burst into applause.

“She opens with a beautiful triple flip–triple toe loop combination,” the female announcer informed the audience.

Ayaka gathered speed, skating with the wind at her back. She spun, lifted each foot once in a quick flourish, then launched into a triple lutz–double toe loop. She glided just long enough to disconnect into a triple salchow before letting her momentum ease. The crowd roared for her precision.

She leaned forward, lifting her left leg high behind her as she balanced on one foot. Her right hand brushed the air above the ice before she brought her leg back down. The symmetry of the movement was undeniably a work of art.

Ayaka stopped in the center of the ice, letting her arms sweep through expressive shapes as her face shifted with the music. It lasted only a moment before she pushed forward, mirroring the movements from her opening.

She leapt into a flying sit spin, the crowd erupting in cheers.

“Her spins are always so tight and beautiful,” the male announcer remarked.

“They truly are,” the female announcer agreed. “Her spins are one of her strongest points.”

As Ayaka exited the spin, she flowed into her step sequence, gliding across the ice as if the blade were an extension of her body. The crowd fell silent, watching in awe. She broke the sequence with a triple loop–double axel–double axel combination. The silence was shattered by another wave of cheers and applause.

“Is there any part of her skating that isn’t a strength?” the male announcer said, excitement creeping into his voice.

“I never said she had a weakness on the ice,” the female announcer replied, matching his enthusiasm.

Ayaka mirrored her earlier movement once more, kicking her right leg out as she glided backward on her left. Her fingertips brushed the ice before she brought her leg back into place.

Then she surged forward, gathering speed. In an instant, she launched herself into the air, spinning with a force no one expected from her tiny frame. When she landed, her trademark smile finally broke through. The applause and screams were deafening.

“Oh my god! What did we just witness?” the female announcer cried, completely stunned. “A quadruple Axel!”

The male announcer was just as shocked. “Unbelievable. She must really want that gold.”

“What confidence,” the female announcer added breathlessly. “She risked a guaranteed medal to attempt something like that.”

Ayaka was already gliding into her next element: a triple flip followed by a stunning combination spin, even as chaos spilled from the stands and the announcers’ booth.

The crowd’s cheers blended through all three elements before finally tapering off as she moved into another jump.

“She adds another triple loop,” the female announcer said, still trying to catch her breath. “But I still can’t get that quad axel out of my mind.”

“It’s not something you see every day,” the male announcer replied, just as breathless.

Ayaka slid both hands across the ice as she began her choreographed sequence. At a point where she should have been fighting fatigue, her kicks and movements were just as powerful as when she began. Her smile was brighter than ever. Gliding on one skate with her left leg lifted high, she allowed herself a small fist pump.

“Oh, she is happy with this performance,” he said.

“And she should be,” she followed.

Ayaka jumped, flipped in the air, and raised her arms as she landed. The crowd took it as a signal and erupted again. She moved to the center of the ice and began a layback spin, the cheers continuing without pause.

When she settled into her final pose, the already roaring crowd somehow found new energy and doubled their efforts. Fatigue finally washed over her as she savored the moment on the ice.

“If that doesn’t earn her gold, no performance humanly possible could,” the male announcer said, confidence ringing in his voice.

“That was the greatest free skate I can remember witnessing,” the other proclaimed.

The camera zoomed so close to Ayaka’s face that every trace of exhaustion and triumph was visible. She rose and skated toward the small prize she had seen fall onto the ice moments earlier, passing by all the others to reach it.

“She always picks up a certain fan’s offering,” he said as they watched.

The female announcer added softly, “She earned her sister’s teddy bear today.”

Ayaka naturally found herself in the leader’s seat, and from there she watched Han Jiwon’s performance; flawless, though not as technically ambitious as her own.

As the young Korean skater sat waiting for her results, the two exchanged a brief glance, both feeling the wait stretch too long.

“The results are in,” the male announcer said at last. “In a heartbreaker… Han Jiwon wins the gold by just point three‑six.”

The camera panned from Ayaka’s stunned expression to Jiwon, who immediately threw her arms around her coach.

“I can’t believe that Fujimoto’s skate wasn’t enough,” the female announcer said. “Excuse my disbelief.”

“You’re expressing what many are probably feeling right now,” he replied, as the broadcast slipped away into a commercial.