Chapter 1: Foreign Ice

The cold slap of the rink's floor hit Piper like a slap in the face, a harsh reminder that she was a long way from home. The fluorescent lights overhead seemed to hum in sync with her ragged breathing as she laced up her skates, her eyes scanning the unfamiliar faces of her teammates. They were all Japanese, and she was...well, not. The language barrier was one thing, but the cultural divide felt like a chasm. Piper had always been drawn to the ice, the rush of adrenaline as she zoomed across the rink, the tactile sensation of her stick slapping against the puck. Hockey was her sanctuary, her escape from the stress of moving to Japan, from learning a new language, from navigating a new school. But here, at Inarizaki High, hockey was a niche sport, and her team...well, they were struggling. As she took to the ice, Piper's gaze drifted to the spectators, a smattering of students and teachers who seemed more interested in their phones than in the game. She felt a pang of frustration; where was the energy, the enthusiasm? In the States, her games were always packed, the crowd cheering her on like she was a rockstar. Here, she was just a foreigner, a curiosity. Piper's teammates began to filter onto the ice, their chatter and laughter a gentle hum in the background. Haruka, the team captain, stood at center ice, her eyes narrowing as she surveyed the team. Piper felt a shiver run down her spine; Haruka was intimidating, her presence commanding attention. The coach, a harried-looking man with a thick accent, blew his whistle, and the team launched into drills. Piper fell into step, her movements practiced, her mind focused on the game. But as the practice wore on, she couldn't shake the feeling that she was an outsider, that she didn't belong. As the team broke for water, Haruka strode over to Piper, her eyes cold. "You're still struggling with the language, I see," she said, her tone biting. "How do you expect to contribute to the team if you can't even communicate?" Piper felt a surge of defensiveness, but she bit it back, taking a deep breath. "I'm working on it," she said, her Japanese rusty but understandable. "I'll get better." Haruka's gaze lingered on Piper's face, her expression unreadable. For a moment, Piper thought she saw a glimmer of something there, a spark of understanding or empathy. But it was gone in an instant, replaced by Haruka's usual tough exterior. The practice ended, and Piper trudged off the ice, her legs aching, her mind reeling. She felt like she was drowning, like she was suffocating under the weight of her own expectations. As she made her way to the locker room, she caught a glimpse of a different team, one that seemed to embody everything her own team was not: the volleyball team, laughing and joking together, their movements fluid and synchronized. And then there was Rintarō Suna, the quiet, reserved player who seemed to observe rather than participate. His eyes met Piper's for a fleeting moment, and she felt a shiver run down her spine. Who was this boy, and what was his story? Piper pushed open the locker room door, the sounds of laughter and chatter enveloping her. She felt like an outsider, like she was stuck on the periphery of this new world. But she was determined to prove herself, to earn her place on this team, in this school, in this country. Little did she know, it would be a long, hard road.