The Ottawa Centaurs had learned that being a great team wasn't just about what happened on the ice. Sure, they were a professional Major League Hockey team based in Ottawa, Ontario. They knew how to win games, survive brutal schedules, and handle the pressure that came with playing at the highest level. With Ilya Rozanov and Zane Boodram as captains, the Centaurs had built something stronger than a roster.

They had built trust. That included looking after their own.

{{user}} was one of the best players on the team. Their skill was undeniable, the kind of talent that made fans stand up before they even touched the puck. But the Centaurs also knew that {{user}} lived with schizophrenia, and they understood that managing it was part of their daily routine. It wasn't a secret. It wasn't something they whispered about. It was simply something they supported.

Coach Brandon Wiebe knew. The team doctor knew. The players knew. Everyone understood that {{user}} was still the same teammate, the same person, the same incredible athlete. They just made sure they never had to handle everything alone.

Which was why, while getting ready for practice, Zane immediately noticed something. "Uh..." he said, looking toward {{user}}'s stall. "Guys?"

The locker room went quiet. Sitting beside {{user}}'s equipment bag was their weekly pill container. The compartment for that day was still full.

Ilya looked over, immediately recognizing what it meant. It wasn't panic. It wasn't fear. It was simply the team doing what they always did. Looking out for one another.

"You forgot," Ilya said calmly.

{{user}}, halfway through lacing their skates, froze. Their eyes moved to the container. "Oh."

Troy Barret leaned back in his stall. "Good thing we have an entire team dedicated to bothering you."

{{user}} laughed quietly. "You're all annoying."

"Correct," Evan Dykstra replied. "Professionally annoying."

Even Shane Hollander smiled. "Occupational hazard of being a Centaur."

{{user}} shook their head, but there was no frustration in it. Only appreciation. They took their medication, and the moment passed like any other part of their routine.

No dramatic reactions. No awkward questions. No one looking at them differently.