Lunchtime was usually a gauntlet of noise and crowded tables. Takeshi, overwhelmed, grabbed a simple meal and slipped away. The rooftop offered a breath of peace, open sky, cool breeze, a place where he could be unseen yet not alone.
Hana appeared beside him, holding two warm melon pan buns. "Come on. I've invited some friends. Nothing formal. Just… people."
He hesitated, the old instincts screaming to keep his distance. But her smile was a lifeline. He nodded.
The rooftop group was a small constellation of personalities.
Riku Sato's laughter was bright and easy, filled with the energy of tricks and stunts on snow-covered rails. His passion for freestyle skiing, flipping and spinning through the air, lit up every word he spoke. His enthusiasm was infectious, it would draw smiles from even the most reserved students.
Ren Kobayashi, typically quiet and calculated, yet still noble and allergic to snobbery, showed the poise of a ski jumper even in conversation, balanced, deliberate, yet always precise. He chuckled at Riku's theatrics, offering droll commentary about aerodynamics and jump form. Then he turned to Takeshi, studying him with that same calculated intensity he might apply at the edge of a jump ramp.
Ren Kobayashi studied Takeshi with the same quiet intensity he brought to the edge of a ski jump, sharp eyes, unreadable expression. "You've got the posture of someone who's raced gates before," he said finally. "But your edges… they hesitate. Like they forgot how to fly."
Takeshi gave a slight shrug. "I haven't skied in over a year. I still can't even step into skis on snow."
Ren nodded once, a slow, deliberate motion. "The indoor slope'll help shake that off. It's not the Alps, it's not even the mountains out in Nagano, but it's real snow. You'll feel it again."
From her spot cross-legged on a bench, Ayumi Takeda glanced up from her notepad. A figure skater known for her expressive routines and razor-sharp spins, she regarded Takeshi with quiet curiosity. "You seem like you won't be joining the training tomorrow?"
"I'd like to, but I mean, I have no gear and my current affliction means I'm… probably just watching for now," Takeshi admitted, voice low.
Ren, who had been watching quietly from beside the bench, finally spoke. His tone was even, but carried a weight behind it. "It's best to just do it. I know all too well—when you miss the landing coming off the large hill, it can be brutal. It knocks the confidence clean out of you. Honestly? It's traumatic. But the only way through it is to jump again. There's no shortcut, maybe it's the same for racing"
Ren looked off toward the horizon, the memory clearly vivid in his mind.
Takeshi swallowed hard. The words struck deep. He knew Ren wasn't speaking just to fill the silence. There was a knowing there, a parallel wound, but not quite as deep. And yet Ren had found his way back onto the jump hill, despite the fear, despite the fall. Takeshi wasn't sure he had that kind of strength yet. But hearing it, raw and unfiltered, planted a seed. Maybe, eventually, it would grow.
Ayumi tapped her pencil against the paper thoughtfully. "Sometimes showing up is the hardest part. But snow and ice helps. It always helps. Especially here, those who come to this school thrive off of it, it's not competition season yet. You still have time."
Takeshi looked between them, cautious. "You both train a lot?"
Ayumi nodded. "Almost every other day out here I'm in the rink, but out in Nagano I get to skate in school hours, everyday. Nothing compares to the winter campus."
Ren's eyes lit with the hint of a smile. "Nagano's where the real work begins. Real jumps, real weather. No distractions. Just you, the ramp, and the air."
Riku leaned back on his hands. "The vibe out there is way better. No curfews, barely any supervision. You can train or crash—or both. And the ramen shop by the gondola? Best miso pork bowl in Japan."
Hana chimed in "I think you will find Riku that there are curfews, but your ass just never manages to get caught hitting the park in the middle of the night while the rest are in bed eager for the next day"
Riku grinned, throwing his hands up playfully. "Hey, a little rule-breaking keeps things interesting! Besides, some of the best runs happen when no one's watching. You can't blame me for chasing that midnight vibe."
Their voices overlapped with memories and anticipation. Though Takeshi hadn't been to the winter campus before, he could feel the gravity of it in their tone—a sacred place for pushing limits.
Riku leaned forward slightly. "The international interschool competition's not far off, well its like 10 months off, but thats close for us. That indoor session tomorrow kicks off prep whether you ski, snowboard, skate, or even curl and rocket yourself down a tube made of ice. Everyone's gearing up."
"The French school's slalom team is still nuts, made up of all the great youth born and bred from the heights of Europe. I mean I don't even ski alpine, and I envy that roster" Riku added futher before Ayumi added. "They've got a U16 kid who skis like he's already on the World Cup circuit. You best watch out for him, I think his name was Julien Garnier or something like that"
Takeshi's thoughts sharpened at the name Julien Garnier. Julien—the stubborn shadow trailing just behind him in every race, the rival who never quite caught up but never stopped trying. Takeshi had been the faster one, the one who crossed the finish line in the shortest amount of time, but Julien's determination had made every victory harder-earned, every race more meaningful.
They weren't just competitors; they were best friends forged through countless battles on icy slopes, and the countless moments off the slopes where they laughed in earnest. Julien pushed him to keep improving, to never settle. There was a strange comfort in knowing Julien was always just a step behind—a constant reminder that Takeshi had to stay sharp, to stay hungry.
Despite the small gap in skill, that felt almost unmovable, he didnt let it get too his head, Julien's respect was genuine, his rivalry sincere. Takeshi knew Julien admired him as much as he admired Julien's relentless spirit. Their connection was woven from those unspoken moments between races—the shared breath in cold air, but also the moments they spent together at every opportunity, they grew up right next to each other, they were round each other's houses whenever possible, out skiing together, competing even when there was nothing to win except pride. It was a momentous day whenever Julien won, it happened so rarely, had Takeshi not been as good as he was, Julien would be the talk of the town, the future of alpine ski.
Hearing Julien's name now, Takeshi felt that familiar stir, a mix of pride and warmth. Julien was still there, still striving to be the best, and maybe that was exactly how it should be.
"Canada's still the freestyle powerhouse. All of those in North America head on over to British Columbia for school, I was there once on holiday, those parks are crazy, no wonder they are so good." Riku said. "And Chile's half pipe guy trained in Zermatt last year—he lands switch double corks like it's breakfast."
"And the New Zealand team?" Ren added, dryly. "They'll surprise you, even with that short season of theirs over there. Since they haven't got an inside ski slope out there, the French school hosts them for winter. They never stop skiing, they come from the southern winter straight to the north winter those lucky bastards, real mountains all year round"
Hana chuckled, shaking her head. "But at the end of the day, you never really know what's going to happen. Skiing and snowboarding are full of surprises—conditions, nerves, anything can change the game. Though I think Ayumi probably knows more about all this than any of us."
Ayumi looked up from her notepad, a rare softness in her eyes. "It's true, I follow all the winter sports closely, not just figure skating. Most people don't realize how much depth there is across the five schools, and how connected they all are."
She tapped her pencil thoughtfully. "France draws almost all of Europe. Their alpine teams—slalom, giant slalom, downhill, Super G—are incredible. They also lead in Nordic combined, cross-country skiing, and even curling. Europe's winter sports tradition is deep."
"Japan is home to many from East Asia—lots of Russians, Koreans and Chinese come to train here. They excel in ski jumping - like Ren, speed skating, and figure skating, but they're also strong in alpine and freestyle skiing. The bobsleigh and luge programs have been growing, too, quietly but steadily."
Riku chimed in, "Canada's the hub for all of North America. Their freestyle skiing and snowboarding squads dominate big air, slope style, and half pipe. But their teams in speed skating, cross-country, bobsleigh, and luge are world-class too. It's a full spectrum."
"Chile is the go-to for South America," Ayumi continued, her voice gaining strength as she spoke of her passion. "They focus on free ride, big mountain, and big air snowboarding. Their cross-country and Nordic teams are carving out new paths in the Andes. It's a tough environment, but that makes their athletes fierce."
Hana smiled. "New Zealand's the Southern Hemisphere's winter sports heart, attracting Australia and others nearby. Cardrona and Treble Cone as well as the remarkables are training grounds for alpine, all smaller than the average resort out in europe but full of heart. freestyle skiing, ski jumping, even some curling and speed skating. They're smaller but scrappy and hungry."
Ayumi hesitated for a moment, then added quietly, "For athletes from the Middle East, parts of Asia, and Africa, it's a whole different story. The schools scout talent fairly, but those kids have to fight even harder to be seen and accepted."
Her words hung in the air. It wasn't often she spoke so openly about these things—usually, she was analysing quietly by herself. Here, among others who understood, she felt a flicker of belonging.
"Each school, each athlete, carries the weight of their region and their dreams. And when the interschool competitions come, it's not just about winning—it's about proving you belong."
Riku grinned. "That's what makes it so intense. No one knows who'll take the win until the last run."
Takeshi listened, feeling the intricate web of talent and struggle spread across the globe. He wasn't just part of a team any more. He was connected to a worldwide family of winter athletes, each pushing limits in their own way—just like him.
Takeshi nodded slowly. He didn't know these people yesterday. But now their words pulled at something dormant inside him—curiosity, maybe even hunger. A whisper that possibly, just possibly, this was a place he could rebuild.
He didn't speak about France, or the seasons lost, or why he couldn't yet put on skis. But the conversation wasn't asking that of him. It welcomed him anyway, folded him into shared hopes and rivalries.
For the first time in months, the snow didn't seem so far away.
Ayumi sat cross-legged nearby, notepad in hand. A figure skater known for her expressive routines and technical artistry, she brought a quiet depth but loud and intelligible when asked the right questions and the topic swayed in her favour to the group. She looked up from her notes, curiosity flickering in her eyes. "I've been meaning to ask—how come you speak such good English? It's not that common around here and from what I've heard it's not very common in France either"
Takeshi shrugged lightly, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Picked it up over the years... there were always some British people over on the slopes, met this one girl she was great on that downhill, we were close in the competition season, guess it's from her since she couldn't speak anything in French, but I loved the way she skied, I just had to talk to her. "
She nodded thoughtfully, the quiet understanding between them growing.
They talked more about the upcoming indoor training at the academy's state-of-the-art ski dome and the nearby rinks. The conversation buzzed with excitement. Playful bets turned into challenges—Riku claiming he'd land a new cork 900 before Daichi finished a clean gate run. Ren smirked. "You'll fall first. I've seen you try to carve a switch."
"At least I fall with style," Riku shot back.
The talk shifted to memories of the winter campus in Nagano—clear blue skies, fresh powder, and shared hot bowls of ramen after gruelling sessions. It was there, years ago, that many of them had first crossed paths. It felt strange and right to be gathered again.
Takeshi absorbed it all. The talk of rivalries, shared history, and upcoming challenges knitted him into something larger than his pain. He kept his own past vague, wary of exposing too much. But the camaraderie, the memories, and the dreams of snow and speed—they thawed something frozen deep inside.
The acceptance in their eyes was a balm he hadn't known he needed.
When the others left, Hana lingered. Sharing melon pan, they opened fragile windows into their struggles.
"Sometimes you have to take the chance," Hana said softly. "Let the chaos fuel you, not bury you."
The silence between them was thick with unspoken understanding, a quiet truce forged in shared pain.