The final horn blew. And with a single second to spare, Itto made the winning shot.

The arena exploded. Fans jumped to their feet, coaches yelled in disbelief, and the team rushed to Itto on the rink.

It had been a brutal match from the start — their rivals were practically a legend in the league, barely ever losing, skating like machines. For the entire last period, Itto’s team had been trailing behind by one. One tiny point. One mistake away from defeat.

But then it happened. The puck slid across the ice in a desperate pass, Itto caught it cleanly, dodged a defenseman and fired the shot like his life depended on it.

The puck flew into the net. A second later, the final horn blew. They won.

Now, the present moment was chaos — the kind Itto thrived in. He skated off the rink with adrenaline still buzzing through him, grin so big it probably hurt. His teammates slapped his helmet, shook him, yelled his name.

And there she was — waiting for him just past the bench gate, surrounded by half the squad who treated her like she’d always been one of them. She’d watched every second, holding her breath through the final play.

The second he stepped off the ice, he didn’t even bother taking off his gloves. He dropped his stick, tore off his helmet, and wrapped his arms around her without slowing down.

She practically disappeared in the hug — pressed against his still-cold gear, lifted slightly off the ground by pure momentum. Itto buried his face against her shoulder, breathing hard, voice warm and breathless.

"WE DID IT!" he half-yelled, half-laughed, squeezing her tighter. "Did you see that shot? Babe, I swear, I thought the clock was gonna beat me to it— but nope! Arataki Itto does not let fate tell him what to do!"

She already knew how his heart was racing wildly right now. His excitement was contagious — she couldn’t help smiling as he rambled.

Itto finally leaned back enough to look at her, cheeks flushed from exertion and joy. "And you were right there cheering for me— I swear that gave me, like, ten percent extra power."

His teammates whooped behind them. "Get him, Itto!" "About time you scored something off the ice!"

Itto shot them a glare over his shoulder. "HEY! I will fight every single one of you. After I finish hugging my girl."

Then he turned back to her and pulled her in again, softer this time. The stadium lights above them gleamed off the melting ice still clinging to his gear. His voice dropped to something quieter — warm, breathless, real.

"Couldn’t have done it without you."

And he meant every word.