On Thin Ice

Chapter 6- reaching breaking point

JIMIN POV:

Every practice has built up to this point—to winning the first step that maps out the rest of the year and charts out our trajectory going forward from these heats.

Everything, every effort has been for these matches, watching as other teams skate swift and harsh on the ice, the brutally efficient movements of each team operating like a well-oiled machine.

There's some of the team who've gone back to the lockers, who've gone to grab food.

But there's a similar, if not more, intense look in Namjoon's eyes as he watches each match aptly, eyes narrowed and trained on the sight of each tactic, each strategy, each ploy. There's a similar watchfulness in some of the other players, in JB's assessing stare as he focuses on the defence line of the teams, in the way that Yugyeom and Bambam are discussing, voices low and hushed, but an avid curiosity to scout out potential oppositions.

"The team's got a weaker left side—it leaves them open." I mutter, watching as the team closest to the rows we're sitting at skate forward, a clear exposure on their left that they're not even aware they're leaving wide open every time their two defenders fall forward—leaving a clear line of sight to the goal.

But the other team sees it and exploits it—a swift quickness in the way the offence line intercept the puck and pass it between them before one of the players makes a clean shot at it from the left, the puck sliding clean through the net.

Loud cheers and groaned despair mingling together as the crowd cheers their teams. My eyes fixed on watching the way the centre operates with the rest of the team, gauging out the dynamic of the team, how crucial it is to their gameplay.

The team with the exposed left side are also weaker in teamplay—there's something not as certain or trusting in the moves they make between themselves even if they individually are adept players on the ice.

But the game's not about being an individual—it never has been. If you can't work well as a team, it won't matter how excelled you are as a lone hockey player, the sport just isn't designed for a solo spotlight.

"We're on in two games after lunch—let's get everyone back into the locker room." Namjoon mutters, pushing himself upright once they reach half-time, eyes scanning over the other teams as he stands, his words pushing the rest of us into motion.

Falling into sync with the familiar pattern of team—a wicked gleaming conspiration shared between Bambam and Yugyeom before they fall into place beside me, a friendly nudge and sharp grins.

"Ready to knock them clean off the ice hyung?"

"I trust you two to keep my back covered when I do."

"Without a doubt." Unwaveringly certain, a trust shared in the familiarity of it all, tugging the door open to pass through first, head tilting over his shoulder briefly.

"Let's go clean and hard and fast. No mercy." Bambam enthuses, lips quirked.

"No mercy." I echo with a grin.

We're here to not just win qualifiers... we're here to make a mark. And that meant leaving an impression, leaving behind the solid certainty that when we won it was because we were formidable opponents, that truly—truly our team was one they wouldn't have stood a chance against.

To mark our victory clearly.

There's that familiar electric buzz of adrenaline and eagerness shared between the team once we've all gathered in the locker rooms, a solidarity and strength shared in the coloured jerseys we all wear under matching protective gear. A unity in the way that when I look at our team, when I look at the offence and defence and goalie—I know they without a doubt have each other's backs and my own. And I have theirs.