courage dear heart | Yuki Ishikawa

68

The stadium was buzzing with excitement as we gathered in our sleek Japanese national uniforms, waiting for the opening ceremony to begin.

The iconic San Siro in Milan had never looked more alive, with thousands of athletes from all around the world preparing to march in celebration of the Winter Games.

I was standing with my teammates, the snowboard team, while trying to soak in the surreal atmosphere.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a group of girls from the Japanese team approaching me, their eyes wide with excitement.

"Excuse me, are you Chō?" one of them asked shyly, her friends standing behind her.

I smiled, a little embarrassed. "Yes, that's me."

"We were wondering... would you mind taking a photo with us? We've been following you for months, even before we knew who you really were!"

I hesitated for a moment, feeling a bit out of place. "Oh, I'm not sure if it's ok-"

But their genuine excitement was infectious, and when they started telling me how they'd admired my journey long before my identity was revealed, I couldn't help but be touched.

"We really look up to you," one of them added softly. "It would mean a lot to us."

Their kindness melted my hesitation. "Alright, let's do it!" I said, smiling warmly.

We gathered for the photo, and I thanked them afterwards.

"Anyway, you're really tall and beautiful. You and Ishikawa Yuki make such a power couple," one of the girls added before walking away, giggling. I didn't even have time to thank her.

It felt good to connect with others in the team who understood the journey I had been through.

Not long after, we began mingling with other athletes, mostly from the ski team. One of the ski athletes, a guy with friendly eyes and a calm demeanor, approached me.

"Hey, I just wanted to say I'm sorry for your loss. I heard about your mother... She was an incredible woman. Even though I'm a skier, her story is known to many of us."

His words took me by surprise. I hadn't expected people from outside the snowboarding community to know about her, let alone remember her after so many years.

I nodded, feeling a lump in my throat. "Thank you... It means a lot to hear that people still remember her."

"We do." he said with sincerity before stepping back into the crowd.

As I watched him go, I couldn't help but reflect on how far-reaching my mother's influence had been. Even after all these years, she was still remembered, and it filled me with both pride and sadness.

Suddenly, the booming voice over the loudspeakers announced that the ceremony was beginning. The stadium erupted into cheers as each country's delegation started to walk in. When the time came for Japan to be called, I glanced at my teammates, a rush of pride and excitement surging through me.

I turned to Reira, grabbing her hand with a smile. "This is it," I whispered.

She smiled back, her eyes sparkling with the same emotion I felt.

Together, hand in hand, we walked alongside our team, stepping out into the spotlight of San Siro. The roar of the crowd was deafening, but all I could feel was an overwhelming sense of gratitude and joy. I was here, representing my country, with people I cared about, and I was ready to take on whatever lay ahead.

After the ceremony ended, I felt the energy still buzzing through me as the crowd began to disperse. Just as I was catching my breath, I saw my father and Hanbin walking toward me, both holding large bouquets of flowers.