Tokyo (2)
For a nation to become a true figure skating powerhouse, a single star athlete was never enough.
With a system in which Olympic berths were secured through World Championship placements, whenever one skater hit a rough stretch, someone else had to deliver.
That was why Korea and Russia — both currently carried by just a handful of stars — still felt a little ambiguous as figure skating powers.
About three countries.
On the world stage right now, the nations with real, tangible influence numbered exactly three.
First was the United States.
With a deep roster drawn from every race and background, backed by formidable sponsorship and a systematic infrastructure, America steadily produced skaters who excelled in both technique and expression.
Second was Canada.
For years it had held the undisputed crown in ice dance, and of late it had begun to shine in singles and pairs as well. Its infrastructure, coaching staff, and training environments were all rock-solid, and a culture of simply enjoying the sport ran through the country.
Last was, without question, Japan.
A traditional powerhouse that had continuously produced world-class women’s singles stars.
There were any number of theories as to how this country had cemented itself as a figure skating stronghold. Some said Japan’s longing for Western aristocratic culture had carried the sport into fashion. Others claimed figure skating simply looked pretty and cute, and that quality, fused with Japanese culture, had made it a national favorite.
In truth, Japan’s women’s singles depth was extraordinary, and its skaters were often outstanding in both technical finish and performance quality. That popularity had created a virtuous cycle, drawing professional coaches, costume designers, choreographers, and musicians into the industry in droves.
Whatever the reason, Japan was not a country that merely happened to be good at skating. It was a place where figure skating had taken root as culture itself.
A true powerhouse.
Perhaps that was why.
…Wow.
This was not a venue built for any particular club or competition. I’d been told it was just a rink for recreational skating. And yet the scale of it — easily three hundred meters — drew a gasp of admiration from me on the spot.
“Mom’s going to make a quick call over there. You’ll be all right skating by yourself, won’t you?”
“Yes.”
“If there’s anything you don’t know, call Mom right away, okay? And if anyone talks to you, you come find me.”
“You don’t have to worry.”
At this size, they ought to be doing speed skating.
After parting from Mom, I kept marveling as I stepped out onto the ice. The surface felt nearly top-grade — a pleasure that lasted only a moment before I registered something strange in the atmosphere.
…What is this?
My eyes found a single child monopolizing the far side of this vast rink. It wasn’t a private rental with no one else allowed — otherwise I couldn’t have gotten on myself. It was simply that every other skater was holding their breath, watching as if interrupting her were forbidden, just to see this girl skate.
How old is she?
A little older than me — around the same age as Jin Sehee or Chloe, from the looks of it.
The girl was skating, tilting her edge as she prepared for a jump. Judging by the setup, a Salchow — and how many rotations?
One, two, three… and four.
A quad?
But she came up half a rotation short, and her axis wobbled at the landing, sending her tumbling down. It was closer to a failed jump than a mere deduction, yet the girl rose with a strangely calm expression. As if that earlier miss were nothing special, she casually started circling the track again.
So she’s… practicing, then.
The people gathered like spectators were the same. Not one of them looked startled or disappointed by the fall — the mood was one of quietly waiting for her next attempt.
Silence, then again.
This time the girl carved a wide curve in the opposite direction, rapidly building speed. Her movement was far sharper than before.
Another jump?
She dug her edge deep, twisted her shoulders, and in an instant launched into the air, spinning. She slid a little across the ice on landing, her hips wobbling slightly. The rotations had held their center — a far more stable attempt than the last — but still.
Failed.
It was the classic Japanese skater’s look. Not appearance — that uniquely Japanese low jump. With a small takeoff, airtime was short, making it that much harder to secure enough rotations. But within that brief window I could see her tucking her shoulders in, tightening her axis, and forcing the turns through.
Can’t quite adapt?
Looking at her form, it wasn’t a lack of fundamentals. But something about it was strangely unnatural. She was over-bending her edges, trying to wring more spring than necessary right before the jump. That was the kind of thing you only saw in someone who’d suddenly changed their jumping technique — curious.
I should get moving too.
I’d finally gotten a bit of training time. Standing there gawking would be a waste.
Using that as a reference point.
It was a big rink anyway — no reason to go all the way over to where the girl was. I split the center in half, then divided that once more top to bottom, and set my own boundary lines.
Bending my knees slightly, I slowly pushed off on my blades. First, get a feel for the ice here.
One lap. Two laps.
Once I’d grown used to the airflow and the friction of the surface—
Good.
I built up speed, entered an inside curve, laid my edge down, and tucked my body in. Jump — two rotations in the air. A clean double Lutz.
A few glances turned my way, then immediately swung back to the girl. Showing up out of nowhere and landing a double jump was never going to hold anyone’s attention for long.
I slowly caught my breath and built speed again. Changed edges once more, tightened my rotation axis, and launched. This time, a triple flip. It wobbled a little, but I held my center. Right after landing I cleaned up my posture and flowed into the next movement.
Don’t stop.
The rink was unfamiliar, but this sensation I felt was always the same. I pushed off looking behind me. My eyes focused only on the landing point, the rotation axis, and my trajectory across the ice. Faster and faster, firmer and firmer. My body began carving the surface, finding its own rhythm.
Now.
Thud — my blade drove into the ice, and the takeoff floated up lighter than I’d expected. I’d originally prepared a double Axel.
Could I?
I tightened my shoulders a little more, drawing up rotational force. I’d jumped higher than usual, so the airtime for three rotations was plenty, but—
“Eek.”
Splat — I failed the landing and went down on the ice. I hadn’t expected much, but actually falling hurt my butt. Still, I got right back up and started skating again — and at the same time, one gaze began following me.
From the opposite side of the rink, someone locked eyes with me perfectly.
That girl.
When she stopped moving, everyone around her went back to their own business. But she alone kept staring straight through me.
What should I do?
It was a face I’d never seen in my previous life, and practicing quads at such a young age was admirable enough. After a brief moment of thought, I prepared two jumps right in front of her.
First—
“Hup.”
I drew a deep breath and drove the toe pick of my front foot hard into the ice. Then a triple Salchow. On the landing I planted the toe and twisted my ankle as I settled down. A sharp, broken mark remained where I’d jumped.
Next, I caught my breath slightly and lowered my stance. I pressed my edge deep, precisely calculating the entry angle for the rotation. Then, loading weight onto my left blade as the center, I entered in a smooth curve.
Touch — the tip of my right blade skimmed the ice. Almost no sense of planting.
The exact same triple Salchow as before. But the landing posture was different this time. Not a landing that scraped down on just the toe-pick tip. The entire blade contacted the ice, distributing the friction evenly, and thanks to that my center barely wavered as I settled. The trajectory drawn across the rink flowed smoothly on, and all that remained where I’d been was a quiet white trace on the ice.
For a Salchow landing, receiving it on the full blade is more stable than planting the toe pick.
But for some reason, the girl hadn’t been using her full blade on landings. So I’d kindly demonstrated both in succession. What you’re using now is a method that costs you points — switch to this, I was saying. Landing on the toe pick might earn a tiny artistic-score bonus, but not much.
Did she catch that?
A short breath reached me from across the way. The girl slowly bowed her head toward me, then started circling the rink again. Not her previous routine — following a new route. In the exact direction I’d just jumped, drawing the same trajectory, she laid her edge down. At a minute angle her right outside edge pressed and skimmed the ice, then she shifted her center to her left foot and launched.
…She changed it?
At the moment of landing, it was different from before. She came down receiving the ice on the full blade, not the toe pick. The force was distributed, her body shook less, and the post-landing recovery was far smoother. It was only a triple Salchow, but the stability was incomparable to the quads she’d been attempting earlier.
I was watching, thinking that at this rate she’d pick up the quad in no time, when—
…?
I felt the girl gradually approaching me. And a few seconds later—
“…Ki…ra!”
“?”
Up close, the girl looked a full two heads taller than me. She grabbed my hands and started chattering away about something. But while I could handle English, I didn’t know Japanese. After I wore a blank look of incomprehension for a few seconds—
“…Ah! Sparkle-sparkle!”
I blinked at her with a dazed expression. As if she’d understood everything, she clasped my hands tightly once more and said—
“Sparkle-sparkle!”
Just what on earth was she trying to say?