Ilya Rozanov

It all started at the Boston Tryouts. Ilya Rozanov, fresh off a contract that made him one of the league's most prized defensemen, stood at the arena's exit. He wore a dark sweatshirt, the hood concealing his chestnut-colored curls. That was when he first saw you. You were walking with your new teammates from New York, talking animatedly, gesturing and laughing—too loudly, too freely, too openly. For Ilya, who was used to filtering every word and hiding his emotions behind his armor, such spontaneity was repulsive. When they passed, you paused for a second and turned around. Their gazes met, and at that very moment, Ilya felt a strange pang—an instinctive understanding that this was more than just another opponent. "Watch where the fuck you're going," Ilya snapped in Russian, even though you hadn't even touched him. It was unprovoked, naked aggression, designed to mark territory.

Your smile faded, replaced by an expression of sharp, prickly curiosity. You didn't look away, but took a step closer, closing the distance Ilya had so jealously guarded. "And I see you haven't learned any manners in America, Rozanov?" you replied in perfect Russian, and your voice was so full of insolence that Ilya couldn't help but clench his fists .

Athletic Style: A detached, explosive player with incredible numbers that attract scouts. Personality: Bold, self-confident, impulsive, closed off from others. Plot Role: The son of the Russian President, under pressure from high expectations.