Tokyo (4)
The harness.
A tool that looked like a safety belt strapped around the waist, with a line attached to assist jumps. Put simply, it was equipment that lengthened your time in the air — and it came in two main types.
One was the auto harness, the kind you could find even in Korea, fixed to a rig on the ceiling. The other was the one-on-one harness, almost unheard of back home and only really seen in figure-skating powerhouses like Japan.
There was a simple reason you rarely saw the one-on-one kind. It was hard. There was no special certification for it — you just hung a person from a line and fished them through the air. You had to match their rotation timing mid-flight and fine-tune even the landing. Fail, and both of you risked injury. In a word, the risk was enormous.
But the fact that one of those one-on-one harnesses was sitting right there meant there was a coach confident enough to use it.
If I'm lucky, I might get to try it once.
Coming here had definitely been the right call.
"Sparkle sparkle!"
Reina, who had led me onto the rink, took me straight to the coach of her figure skating club.
In Korea a coach taught under their own name, one-to-one. In Japan the atmosphere was closer to a school. I had wondered who Reina's coach might be — if they were famous, I might even recognize them — but the moment I saw her face, I knew.
Almost every figure skater had seen her at least once. Ever since I'd gotten a phone of my own, I had watched that triple Axel combination whenever it crossed my mind: the skater who had set the standard for how a women's single should look — and who, in the end, had never quite delivered in her senior years.
Yes. The coach of Reina's club was none other than—
Ayano Miu.
Ayano Miu, the former skater who had once said in an interview that the triple Axel had ruined her career.
She looked from Reina to me, then held out her phone screen.
It was abrupt, but this was a club rink — few people, good ice — so there was no problem. I casually threw a triple Salchow.
Ayano Miu watched, then pulled out her phone again and played something. On the screen was Reina. An old jump clip: a light, high triple Salchow from when she was little. Right after it came a more recent practice video. No matter how hard she toed in, she couldn't get past three revolutions.
Then came the question.
It was a method mostly known to men's singles skaters, the ones who had to treat quads as a baseline. I had figured it out myself from watching a tall American skater's competition footage. After a moment's thought I ran it through the translator and showed her the result — something about how my coach was tall and I had seen him jump that way.
Ayano Miu read the translated sentence carefully. Then she held the phone out to me again.
Without hesitation I typed the sentence I had been turning over in my head: that I was stuck on the triple Axel, and that I wanted to try it with the harness.
When Ayano Coach saw that, her expression turned a little complicated. Watching from the side, Reina whispered in my ear.
"My coach... no triple Axel."
Right — asking the person whose career had been twisted by the triple Axel might have been too much. I hurried to apologize and asked instead whether I could use the harness to practice a quad.
She made another complicated face, then shook her head.
Does she see me as a rival?
If that was how she thought about it, I couldn't really blame her for refusing. There were people who went on training camps just for harness coaching — maybe I had been too greedy, hoping to get it for free. The moment that thought crossed my mind, Ayano Coach stepped up to me.
"...?"
She slid her hands under my arms and lifted me clean off the ice. She bounced me a little, as if checking my weight, then held out her phone again.
I made a face that said What? She tapped at the phone again.
Beside us, Reina flashed a thumbs-up.
"Oh..."
Yerim's rink hadn't even had an auto harness, so this was the first time I had worn one in almost ten years. Strapping on the familiar belt again felt strangely nostalgic.
Who's going to hold me up?
Maybe the male coach on the far side? Or that female coach who looked pretty solidly built. A one-on-one harness didn't take raw strength so much as a minimum of muscle and balance — but still. While I was wondering, the person who appeared in front of me was—
"...You?"
At my awkward question, Ayano Coach nodded.
Saying a woman couldn't work a harness would have been a little discriminatory. Even so — a coach who looked like she barely cleared five-two offering to lift me? That was insane. I could accept staking my figure skating life on tasting a triple Axel, but this was something else.
Ayano Coach had clearly expected that reaction. She hooked Reina, who was already prepared, into the harness. Then the two of them skated together — and jumped.
...Clean?
The danger of a one-on-one harness, as I'd explained before, came down to this: both people had to skate at the same time. The one holding the line was also on skates, standing on ice. But the sequence Ayano Coach and Reina showed looked as seamless as if they were a single body.
So that's why she lifted me earlier. If she could lift Reina, then of course she could lift me — smaller and lighter.
With that thought, I clipped the belt I was wearing into the harness. I was standing on ice, but the usual sense of freedom wasn't there. Caught between a strange unease and anticipation, I moved my feet on Ayano Coach's signal.
She said I could jump whatever I wanted.
I glided slowly toward the center of the rink. The line hanging from the belt followed behind me, holding a light tension. Alien, yet steady — as if an invisible hand were wrapped around my waist. At the same time I could feel Ayano Coach's gaze locked on the tips of my blades.
First, a double Axel.
Just to get the feel. The familiar takeoff posture. I pressed deep into the left inside edge and wound my upper body in with room to spare. The next instant I drove hard off the ice and rose into the air.
The harness line tugged gently. A soft lift, not burdensome at all — just a slight extension of my hang time, perfectly timed to my own rhythm.
Smoother than I expected.
Two revolutions in the air. As I finished the rotation and reached for the landing on my right foot, the line swayed lightly again and steadied my balance. Landing — clean. Lighter than usual; no strain at all on my body. As I found my center and glided across the ice, Ayano Coach silently raised three fingers.
Three?
She meant prepare a triple Axel. I nodded and set up for the next jump. This time for real.
Slowly, but with certainty, I built speed. My back and waist felt more stably supported than usual.
I can do this.
I dropped my center of gravity. Pressing deep into the inside edge, I rode a curve like drawing a half-circle. Chest open and easy, right arm folded in just a little. Takeoff as soft and natural as I could make it. Gathering power in both legs, I drove hard off the ice.
The harness pulled me up at exactly the right moment.
Light!
My body rose into the air. Not a precarious spin, but a rotation I could fully control. Speed, axis, sight line — all of it under command. One, two, three... and half a turn more. A different sense of the air than before. Without a doubt, the trajectory of a triple Axel.
But the landing wavered. My toe scraped the ice and slid forward. I didn't fall, but the frustration lingered. Ayano Coach watched my form in silence, then gave a small nod with that same expressionless face. She typed a few words on her phone and showed me.
I nodded and skated back to the starting point. The line trailing from the harness followed loosely behind me. This try would mean rising almost entirely on my own power.
Once, twice — the feel of the blade driving me forward. Speed building. The moment the curve opened outward, the outside edge bit the ice. My body surged up. And the harness line gave me one short, gentle push.
One.
Two.
Three — and the final half-turn. All that remained was the landing. My right foot stretched toward the ice. This time the line did not rock me. A solid sense of planting into the ice. The blade scraped the surface and held my weight.
Keep the knees firm so they don't bounce out.
Perfect. No wobble. Both arms opened naturally to the sides as I stuck it.
For a moment, the ice went quiet.
"Sparkle sparkle!"
From the edge of the rink, Reina threw both hands up and cheered.
Even with the harness assisting me — a technique I had never even landed before. The triple Axel. Success.