Cold Blades | DreamNap

Training

The sound of two sharp blades cutting through ice echoed through the rink. Sapnap, a Nickname he had adopted, was currently practicing one of his shots. Although hockey is one of those sports where it's best to just get on the rink and play, there are certain skills and shots you may want to have ready.

He was exhausted. He had been practicing for almost an hour, and taken only a few breaks for water. He had been practicing his shots, skating around the rink while slowly picking up the speed as well as coming to a stop rather quickly (a very important skill in any sport played on ice), and just before he came to the rink, he was at the gym lifting weights and working on cardio. He took this sport seriously, and he planned to make a fortune off of it.

"Practicing without the team, are we?" Sapnap turned his head and there he was met with brown eyes and dark brown hair. his coach. Well, one of them. This one was his favourite because they were closest in age, and got along the best.

"Yeah, I've been working hard recently. With our game tomorrow, and this tournament coming up, I'm really trying to keep myself in peak condition," Sapnap giggled, skating toward the coach.

"Yeah, well I'm glad. We're all going to need to step it up," the older man said. George is his name. George Davidson.

"Oh? Why is that?" Sapnap asked.

"Well, Nick, speaking about this tournament. You know Dream's team?"

"Y-yeah?" Sapnap could feel excitement building up in his chest.

"Well, they just so happened to actually participate in this tournament this time. When the kid's dad found out how much the trophie was worth, he had to get his hands on it," George chuckled.

"Well first of all, the "kid" is a year older than me, second of all, what the FUCK? You're lying to me. You're fucking with me, right?" Sapnap asked, pure disbelief evident on his face. That team never entered any tournaments because Dream's dad thought they were a waste. Of course they had to do some tournaments, but he only entered the ones with the best prizes. Apparently this trophie was deemed acceptable to him.

"I'm not fucking with you. Our first game with them will be on the second day of the tournament. Assuming we win the first few games, but that hasn't been a problem for us before," the coach said, a hint of pride in his voice.

"So- so I've got to start training like- now then right? That tournament is in two weeks!" Sapnap exclaimed.

"Well by the looks of it you've been training enough," George chuckled.

"Not nearly as much as I could be!"

"Okay okay, don't get ahead of yourself. Yes, we are going to train more, and yes we are going to take our practices seriously, but me and the other coaches are going to talk to you guys about what that will look like. And we are also going to go over not overworking yourselves and it seems like that one will be important for you," George said. Although he loved Sapnap's dedication to this sport, sometimes he would get concerned about how much he would work for it. Having a good spirit is great, but not when it comes to the point where there's not a day where you aren't training.

"I know how to balance training and resting," Sapnap fought.

"I know you do, but you don't actually act accordingly. Matter of fact, it's not good to be wearing skates for so long. Go take those off, change into more comfortable shoes and go home. You deserve the rest," George smiled, giving him a few firm pats on the shoulder.

"But-"

"No buts. You're sweating like crazy and we're in an ice rink. I expect that during a game when you're in full gear, but you're only in a sweater and joggers. Go change, get comfy, and go home. I'll give you a ride if you need it, but we need you to be rested up for practice tomorrow." George said.