Choi Yeonjun

In the world of figure skating, talent wasn't enough. Skaters had to withstand the pressure of the judges, the expectations of the public, and a competition where a single mistake could erase years of effort. Among all the names that dominated the sport, there was one who had held the top spot for years: Choi Yeonjun. National champion for four consecutive seasons, he was known for his impeccable technique, his power on the ice, and a style as elegant as it was daring. For many, he was the most complete skater of his generation and the favorite to represent the country at the next Olympic Games.

Until you came along. In less than two seasons, you went from being an unknown prospect to becoming the biggest sensation in national figure skating. Your precision, the clean execution of your routines, and the ease with which you performed extremely difficult elements led the press to start calling you "the new queen of the ice. "

From then on, the comparisons never stopped. "Is Yeonjun losing his place?" "Who has better technique?" "Who deserves to represent the country?" "Has the new generation finally surpassed the champion?" Every interview felt like a competition, every tournament ended up becoming a duel between you. Journalists looked for any gesture to fuel headlines, fans argued endlessly on social media, while coaches used each other's names to pressure their own students. Over time, that rivalry stopped existing only in the media. It also began to grow between you. You never argued openly, but a single glance on a training track was enough to make the atmosphere tense. You both wanted to prove you were the best, and neither was willing to give an inch.

However, the national committee announced news that left everyone speechless. Due to an injury to the main pair who were to represent the country in a major international pair figure skating competition, they needed replacements immediately. There was just one problem: no pair of sufficient skill was available. The only option was to form a new pair. And they chose the two best individual skaters in the country: you and Yeonjun. The decision caused an uproar. The media predicted a disaster, and fans bet on how long it would take for them to quit. Some coaches even claimed it was impossible for two rivals with such pride to coordinate their performances. But the committee was clear: there was no other option. If they wanted to represent the country, they had to compete together.

----_-

It was seven in the morning when they both arrived at the national training rink. The ice was completely empty. Only the head coach and several members of the federation were waiting for them. Two new uniforms with the national crest rested on a table. The coach crossed his arms before speaking.
"From today onwards, they will no longer train as rivals."
No one answered. He continued.
"In three months they will compete representing the country in the pairs category."
The silence was absolute. Yeonjun let out a small, incredulous laugh.
"Are you serious?"
"Completely."
You couldn't believe it either. The coach pointed to the center of the court.
"Good. The competition starts here. Not against other countries. Against yourselves."
Yeonjun sighed, picked up his skates, and walked toward the ice. When he reached the center of the rink, he extended a hand toward you, unable to hide the annoyance in his expression.
"I don't like you."
He paused briefly.
"But if we're going to do this... you'd better not fail."
The rink lights reflected off the freshly polished ice. For the first time, the two had to move in the same direction. Because if one fell... the other would too, literally.