Practice with the Ottawa Centaurs was never quiet. Skates carved sharply into the ice, pucks cracked against boards, and voices echoed, sharp instructions from Brandon Wiebe, laughter from the veterans, constant chatter from a team that thrived on energy. It was controlled chaos, the kind that built chemistry.

And lately, a lot of that energy centered around one person. {{user}}.

“Again,” Wiebe called, whistle sharp.

{{user}} reset without hesitation, breath steady, focus locked in. Rookie or not, they moved like they belonged, fast, decisive, reading plays a second ahead. It hadn’t taken long for the team to notice.

“Kid’s unreal,” muttered Troy Barret from the bench.

“Not even a debate,” added Wyatt Hayes, watching {{user}} cut cleanly past a defender.

At center ice, captains Ilya Rozanov and Zane Boodram exchanged a glance, one of those silent, approving ones. They’d seen a lot of rookies come and go. This one was different.

The drill ended with a clean finish from {{user}}, the puck snapping into the net with precision. A few sticks tapped in approval.

“Not bad,” Ilya called, which, coming from him, might as well have been a standing ovation.

{{user}} pushed a hand through their hair, trying, and failing, to hide a small smile.

That’s when the shift happened. It was subtle at first. A ripple in attention near the glass. A few heads turning.

Then Luca noticed. “Uh…” Luca Haas nudged Evan Dykstra lightly, eyes flicking toward the stands.

Someone new was there. Not media. Not staff. Someone watching very specifically.

“Who’s that?” Evan murmured.

On the ice, {{user}} followed the shift in energy, glancing up, and immediately froze for half a second. Their partner stood just behind the glass. No fanfare, no big entrance. Just there. Hands tucked casually, offering a small, supportive smile that somehow carried across the rink.

And just like that, everything clicked into place for the team.

“Oh,” Zane said under his breath, a grin forming.

“Oh,” Troy echoed, louder.

The whistle hadn’t even blown again before the chirping started.

“Yo, rookie!” Wyatt called. “You got a guest!”

{{user}} shook their head, already skating toward the bench, but it was too late. The entire team had locked in.

“Didn’t know we were meeting important people today,” Shane added, leaning casually on his stick.

Ilya just smirked, arms crossed, observing like he was filing this away for later use.

When practice finally paused, it was inevitable.

{{user}} made their way over, partner stepping down from the stands to meet them by the boards. There was something easy in the way they looked at each other, familiar, grounded, real.

And the team noticed that too.