Takeshi's alarm buzzed before sunrise. His hand flopped out from beneath the covers to silence it, but he didn't move for a full minute after. Eyes open. Blank ceiling. Tight chest. Then he sat up and grabbed his phone.
From: Alpine Ski Dept.
Subject: Gear Notice – Wednesday Training
Please bring the following equipment to school today. This session is recreational-focused; race gear not required.
All-mountain skis
Helmet
Recreational poles
Ski boots
Appropriate outerwear (not competition suit)
Eyewear like goggles or sunglasses, optional while indoors
He stared at the email, thumb hovering, rereading it like it might change. This would be the first time he touched his gear since the accident. His pulse spiked.
He moved on autopilot, dragging his gear bag out from under the bed. The scent of plastic and wax hit him like a memory—his mother kneeling beside him, checking his bindings, murmuring "tight, but not too tight." A race bib still clung to the side pocket, half-torn. He hadn't touched it since the funeral. The all-mountain skis—new, barely used—went into the case alongside his boots. He threw in his grey jacket, black gloves, and his white helmet with a faded sticker on the side. Everything looked like it belonged to someone else. Still, he zipped it up, shouldered the bag, and left.
School passed in a blur. Home room announcements about the snow dome training echoed in his ears without sticking, he had finally received his timetable, his schedule for the next while, as what had come before today was just temporary it showed as followed.
Monday
Home room (SHR)
Japanese Language
Mathematics
English
Science (Physics)
Lunch Break
Integrated Studies
Sports Science (Winter Sports Theory)
Tuesday
Home room (SHR)
English
Japanese Language
Science (Chemistry)
Art (Elective)
Lunch Break
Social Studies (Geo.)
Mathematics
Wednesday
Home room (SHR)
Mathematics
English
Japanese Language
Science (Biology)
Lunch Break
Beginner's French (Elective)
Social Studies (History)
After School Training in Indoor Snow Dome
Thursday
Home room (SHR)
Japanese Language
Science (Biology)
Mathematics
Social Studies (Civics)
Lunch Break
English
Sports Science (Physiology & Nutrition)
Friday
Home room (SHR)
English
Social Studies (Geography)
Mathematics
Science (Physics)
Lunch Break
Japanese Language
Music (Elective)
After School Training in Indoor Snow Dome
Saturday & Sunday – Full Training Days
8:30 – 10:00 Warm-Up / Conditioning Drills
10:00 – 12:00 On-Snow Training (Gates, Carving, Balance work)
12:00 – 1:00 Lunch (On-site or cafeteria)
1:00 – 3:00 Mock Races, Technical Focus, Video Review
3:00 – 4:00 Cool-down, Stretching, Team Debrief
Evening Optional hot spring recovery, journaling
In maths, he solved equations automatically. In English, he didn't even realise he'd read an entire passage aloud until the teacher thanked him. Japanese Language passed without a hitch. Biology reminded him too much of rehab—muscles, healing, limits.
Lunch was louder than usual. Students buzzed about the afternoon training session. Ayumi leaned over her bento. "Are you ready?"
Takeshi nodded. "I guess."
"Bring some skis?"
"Yeah."
"Cool. You'll do fine. Just don't let Daichi run his mouth all over you."
He smiled, thin but real.
French, the second to last lesson of the day, was easy. Too easy. Takeshi sat near the back of the room, arms folded, his eyes flat as the teacher chirped through greetings and basic sentence structures. She wore too much perfume and smiled too often, like she was trying to convince them all that this mattered.
He didn't care. Not really. But the words came automatically—rote and dull, like reciting the alphabet. French wasn't a second language to him. It was the language of childhood, of ordinary breakfasts and parents arguing softly in the kitchen, of school corridors in Chamonix and friends he no longer spoke to. Here, it meant nothing.
The teacher clapped her hands. "On va faire un petit exercice oral. Par deux, s'il vous plaît." (We're going to do a little oral exercise. In pairs, please.)
Takeshi replied simply, "Takeshi Morin." He avoided any extra words, his voice flat and guarded.
Reina raised an eyebrow, surprised but intrigued.
"Ah, un nom de famille français, tu as vécu là-bas ? Depuis combien de temps es-tu ici?" (Ah, a French last name, did you live there? How long have you been here?)
"Ouais, j'ai grandi en France, j'ai déménagé ici il y a un peu moins d'une semaine, mais comment se fait-il que vous parliez aussi bien le français ?" he answered shortly. (Yeah, I grew up in France, I moved here just under a week ago, though how come you speak such good French as well?)
She tilted her head, watching him carefully. "J'ai étudié à l'étranger pendant 2 ans à Paris. T'es de quel coin en France?" (I studied abroad for 2 years in Paris. Where in France are you from?)
He hesitated. "Chamonix."
She smiled. "Ah, Chamonix! C'est magnifique. Tu pratiques le ski depuis toujours?" (Ah, Chamonix! It's beautiful. Have you been skiing since forever?)
He nodded briefly. "Depuis que je marche." (Since I could walk.)
Reina's smile softened, but he kept his expression neutral. "Tu dois être bon, alors." (You must be good, then.)
He gave a small, almost imperceptible shrug. "J'étais bon avant d'arrêter, maintenant je n'en suis plus si sûr." (I used to be good before I quit, now I'm not so sure.)
She chuckled lightly. "Je ne connais pas grand chose au ski, mais je crois avoir entendu parler de toi. Ça doit être dur ici, non? Nouveau pays, nouvelle école?" (I don't know much about skiing, but I think I've heard of you. It must be tough here, right? New country, new school.)
He didn't answer. Instead, he stared out the window, arms folded.
Their exchange didn't go unnoticed. The teacher passed by and gave him a bright, approving nod. "Très bien, Monsieur Morin, et vous aussi mademoiselle Nakamura. Fluent speakers are such a gift to the class."
He said nothing. His fingers drummed the desk once. His posture remained closed, spine straight, arms crossed again as soon as Reina turned away to jot something in her notebook.
When the bell rang, Reina offered a polite smile. "See you around?"
He didn't respond with words, already on his feet, his bag over one shoulder, he merely raised his hand to say goodbye. Whatever impression he left behind, it was ice-cold, sharp, and unmoved.
Then came social studies, with a history focus that passed by with nothing special occurring.
The bell rang, and it was time for the training session…