Chapter 21
Alisa had already been on the ice for the third hour in a row…
“Alisa. You do understand that in order to win the Olympics, you need a program that touches people, and the quads will give you more points technically.” Arkadiy ground the words out through his teeth, already irritated himself, he hated this second session after only a fifteen-minute break, but there was no other choice.
Alisa had barely managed to snack on a banana with peanuts and wash it down with cappuccino from the local canteen just to stay upright for round two.
Alisa only nodded at his words and pushed off again, going back into her elements while he skated parallel behind her, watching the trace of her blade on the ice.
She entered the butterfly element, pushing off one foot, her body almost parallel to the ice, her face dangerously close to it, legs lifted high, it was a difficult, uncomfortable element she had always hated. She didn’t like being that close to the ice, at least not with her face…
“Alisa, come on. I’m not even going to comment on your butterfly… let’s at least look at your edge work, alright?”
“Yeah… it’s fucked up.”
“Right. And at the Olympics, when your butterfly looks like that, will you say the same thing in front of everyone?” Arkadiy smirked.
“And if the jump fails? What will you tell the judges? ‘I’ve had better days’?”
Alisa shook her head and went back into the entry.
“Davai! Davai! Davai!”13 Arkadiy shouted.
She went into the butterfly again — still off.
His voice sharpened in parallel with rising irritation, because she was tired and it showed in each step she took.
Alisa clenched her teeth and tried again. This time better, though she nearly pitched forward, almost smashing her face into the ice.
Arkadiy rolled his eyes, arms crossing over his chest. “Again.”
Alisa exhaled sharply and went in once more… and this time it held, barely, but she could already feel her left boot biting into her skin, rubbing raw at the side, irritation turning sharp and wet, she knew that feeling, blood soaking through the sock into the boot.
Blyat’. Blyat’. Blyat’.
“Well, it’s acceptable. But still not what I want to see from you, Alisa.”
She felt tears press at her eyes.
It was one of those days, the kind where every mistake scraped something raw inside her, where even breathing wrong felt like failure, and today of all days, she had to absorb new choreography on top of it. There was no mercy from the ice.
She clenched her jaw and kept going. They moved on through the elements, and then into spins, and somewhere in the back of her mind she realized jumps would probably come later, in the evening…
She wasn’t sure she would survive until then.
Standing in the center of the rink, she felt it rising, that sharp, helpless urge to just break, to drop and to cry right there on the ice in front of everyone…
But she didn’t.
Anfisa only skated past Alisa sympathetically nodding to her, supporting with a look of quiet sadness in her eyes, but everyone here was preparing for the Olympics now, Anfisa included, working toward her own internal qualifiers and refining her choreography, and in just a couple of weeks Alisa would have to compete against her at the national selection.
Anfisa’s coach, Alyona, was also on the ice with her, watching every jump closely, and today truly was a heavy day for everyone.
Nevertheless, Alisa could only hope that they would manage to rebuild her program in time, that she would step onto the ice at the internal competition with something that would catch the judges’ attention and prove that she was worthy of being sent to the 2026 Olympics.
While they continued working through movements on the ice, Dana finally returned after setting a program for a guy named Slava, the strongest in the men’s singles group, and she skated over toward Alisa and Arkadiy with a smile, lifting her hand in greeting.
They exchanged quick hellos, and Dana turned to Alisa with interest.
“Well, have you chosen a new song you want to skate to?”
“I think so… what about Sleep Token — Descending?”
“Interesting choice… I haven’t heard them before. Alright, let’s put it on and see what’s in your head for this music — improvise, but no full jumps, go into singles just to catch the rhythm, okay?” Dana nodded and glided toward the speakers to connect the track.
Her track started.
Alisa pushed off and moved toward the center of the ice, other skaters naturally drifting to the sides, carving out space for her as they continued their own elements.
She began simply, working with her hands first, almost like ballet, letting the words exist through movement before her body fully followed, and then the melody pulled her in deeper, guiding her into a camel spin that flowed down into a sit spin, her body folding and unfolding with a quiet precision as she rotated around her axis.
And then she stopped holding back.
She let herself fall into the music completely, pouring something raw into the ice — something restless and deeply unsettled — something that belonged to Tora. It felt like she was stuck.
Everything between them seemed fine, didn’t it? But there was something inside her gnawing. The track, in a strange way, carried exactly that feeling, the uncertainty and that quiet fracture beneath something that should have been whole.
Was their relationship real, fully real? Or was something missing?
Maybe it was because she still couldn’t exist openly, couldn’t be herself completely, because she had to hide, had to shrink into shadows while Tora could exist without fear, could say this is who I am without consequences.
And Alisa… Alisa had to be careful, always careful.
It felt like something had shifted in Beijing, like some invisible mechanism had clicked into place between them, and she still couldn’t understand what exactly had changed.
She had won gold. She had taken the quota. That should have been everything.
So why did it feel like something was missing?
That was what she tried to show now, through every line of her body, through every breath, through every edge cutting into the ice.
The track was slower than what she usually skated to, but maybe that was exactly what she needed. Here, she didn’t have to rush or chase elements in panic, she didn’t have to fight the clock with sweat. Here, everything could be lived through each movement.
But even so…
Her body and her heart were telling a story of their own.
When Alisa finished, she heard the skaters on the ice clapping for her and Anfisa was crying… had she really affected them that much with a simple improvisation?
Dana skated up to her and patted her on the shoulder. “There’s something in this… okay, we’ll work with it. Let’s start again.”
They began setting the updated choreography, and the skeleton of the program mostly stayed the same, which wasn’t surprising, but everything became slower, as if every movement now carried meaning instead of just filling space.
After working through it — well, only part of it, of course — Alisa was finally allowed to take a break, and for lunch she let herself collapse into sleep in the arena’s rest room.
It was Anfisa who woke her up.
“Are you going back on the ice?” she asked, raising her eyebrows and offering her a hand.
Alisa lazily stretched, yawning, arms spreading wide as if she could shake the exhaustion out of her body. “Yeah… yeah, I’m coming. Thanks for waking me up.”
“Yeah, well, your something has already woken up half the arena,” Anfisa giggled, pointing at Alisa’s phone, which had apparently been ringing for half an hour. Was I really that deeply asleep that I hadn’t heard it? Rough…
Her legs still felt like an elephant’s, so heavy, almost alien and barely hers. Her left one throbbed sharply where the skin had been rubbed raw to blood. She had overdone it.
Still, Alisa went to the infirmary, wrapped the wound tightly, swallowed painkillers, and went back to the ice, repeating to herself that it had to be today. There was no time left. Not a second to waste.
She stepped onto the ice with her teeth clenched, still feeling the wound through the bandages.
This was the third time she attempted the loop jump, the Rittberger, and it was still too low…
“What are you doing, Alisa! Come on, do it properly, don’t rush it! We need to hit the beat, do you understand? Here — clap, then clap—”
Alisa went into the jump again.
“Yes, that’s it!” Arkadiy clapped sharply and skated after her.
* * *
During these last days of training with the updated choreography before the internal competitions, Alisa had almost stopped feeling her left leg entirely, it was swollen from the constant repetition and endless jumping.
She chased perfection in every attempt, forcing her technique to its absolute limit.
Before stepping onto the ice each time, she jumped in place near the boards, trying to feel something in her legs, but all she found was anxiety, fear, and suffocating horror that she would let everyone down.
And yet, every time, she walked out of the rink victorious.
But how long could she last like this?
The question lingered heavily in her mind.
Alisa wiped the tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand and stepped onto the ice again.