Chapter Text
"They're just boys being boys, honey."
Yuna folds her arms over her chest. Usually, she likes sitting as close to the rink as possible when she watches Shane play hockey so that she can ensure he hears her encouragement. However, at the start of this year— perhaps with the inclusion of another boy in the house— Shane requested she sit further away in the stands to quote unquote "give him some space, please."
It's the first time Shane's ever seem embarrassed about his parents, which Yuna's actually happy about. Shane has always excelled with his physical development. He was crawling and walking early, jumping and running shortly after, and eventually that turned into serious skill on the ice. Shane fell a lot sure— he was still three— but he found his footing quickly and it didn't take long for him to start skating as if he was simply waiting for Yuna to have the bright idea to put him in skating lessons.
Socially though…
Socially, Shane's always been a milestone or two behind. He's never made friends easily nor has he tried to outside of hockey. Ilya… Ilya might be his first actual friend and Yuna's not sure if that counts considering they literally live together. The point is, the fact that Shane's finally embarrassed of his parents is a good sign developmentally. Yuna wouldn't mind Shane never being the sort of child who rolls his eyes and his parents, but she also wants him to grow into, you know… an independent adult.
"That kid's trying to check him," Yuna exacerbates, throwing her hand forward at the quite frankly, large child making a serious attempt to shove Shane into the boards. Shane's just a hair too quick for him, darting out of the way for the puck at the very last second over and over again.
It's obvious the other kid's getting frustrated by the fact that Shane isn't just letting himself be checked. Yuna's pressed upon Shane over and over again that he needs to be mindful since he's the smallest boy on his team— he'll be singled out— and he is, constantly. If it's not because of the fact that he's still little, or the fact that he's Asian, it's because he plays good hockey. The issue of his skill started becoming a problem last year and because of that issue, Yuna's made sure to be present at every single game.
Because shit like this happens. The opposing player, frustrated that Shane's escaped from him for a third time, raises his stick like a bat. Yuna's heart crawls up her throat and she feels herself starting to stand up. In her mind, she sees that stick coming down on her baby's head or his leg, she sees Shane crumpling to the ice.
Then Ilya appears out of nowhere and punches the kid square in the face. The ref's whistle squeals across the arena. A few parents shout at Ilya and well— Yuna hopes his English isn't good enough to make out the absolute vitriol being thrown his way.
Yuna sits back down, fingers steepled in front of her mouth. She knows that Ilya plays a little… dirty. She's been watching all the games and splitting her attention between both boys. Shane always focuses on making goals and positioning himself to ensure he can make them, but Ilya? Ilya makes his job being a complete and total asshole on the ice. It's a strategy that works unfortunately well.
And unfortunately draws a lot of ire from the parents in the audience. Nobody wants to see their kid getting punched in the face just as much as they don't want to see their kid humiliated by a player half their size and twice as skilled.
But Yuna can't be mad at Ilya, not when he's so quick to defend Shane. He doesn't linger on the fight at all, merely skates his way over to the penalty box without complaint, plopping right down on the bench and just… watching. The way Ilya plays hockey is in complete and total juxtaposition with how he is off the ice.
At first Yuna just thought he was quiet and he is— sometimes. Ilya comes home and does his homework in the living room until everything is done, he takes out the trash and tries to wash dishes after dinner. When Yuna comes into his room to check for laundry, his space is 100% spotless. Bed made, clothes folded in their drawers. It's hard to tell a thirteen-year old boy has been staying with them unless you know where to find said thirteen-year old boy.
On the ice though? Ilya doesn't stop talking. He slings insults left and right, gets into other players' faces and makes them uncomfortable or angry enough to strike him first. The way he plays makes Yuna so desperately glad that he and Shane play for the same team; she's not sure if Shane could even begin to know or learn how to handle playing against someone like Ilya.
However, even from a distance, Yuna sees Coach Brum's face purple with anger as he stalks over to Ilya. Yuna frowns behind her fingers. Shane's been telling her little things ever since the incident with Dumaurier about the way Ilya's being treated at school. At first, she really thought it could've been a personality fit, but now?
Now she's almost 100% sure half the issues Ilya's been facing are strictly about the fact that he's Russian. Which is just so fucking ridiculous on paper that Yuna kind of wants to scream. Ilya's a good kid, a good boy.
And he's been through so much more than any thirteen-year old kid should have ever had to go through. Yuna could read between the lines. She accidentally swallowed a whole bottle of pills. She couldn't even attempt disciplining him for the whole Halloween drinking thinking— how could she when he was already flagellating himself over missing… Yuna didn't even know, at some point, Ilya started blubbering in Russian and she just felt so terribly bad for him. Thirteen and mourning his mother in a foreign nation where he can't even visit her grave.
She'd done her best, asked Ilya if he wanted to see her family shrine. Ilya had agreed and so, Yuna showed it to him. The little altar with photos of both her parents, the offerings and incense sticks. She'd asked if it would help if they included a picture of his mother just for while he's here. Now, beside the professional photos of Hiroshi and Kyoko Sato was a little polaroid picture of Irina Rozanova. Young, beautiful. Ilya looks just like his mother.
"This isn't the NHL!" A parent barks behind Yuna's head.
Alright, she's had enough. Yuna whirls around, ponytail snapping behind her head, "Maybe if your kid played better, they wouldn't have to!"
David rubs the space between his brows. This happens at nearly every game because it's the truth. Shane's always played at a higher skill level and that's always drawn the ire of not only the other players— children, for fuck's sake— but their parents too. How dare another little boy outshine their precious baby. Yeah, well, if their precious babies played better, this wouldn't be an issue in the first place.
Shane has a real talent for hockey. He sees and understands the game better than anyone gives him credit for. Yuna constantly finds herself amazed by the things he picks up on when they're watching games together, at how well he keeps track of the puck. This is the same child that didn't speak until he was four.
And now he has someone on his team that can play on his level and they're playing like murder together. Why wouldn't they be? They're thirteen for Christ's sake!
Shane and Ilya both have the kind of hockey IQ that will get them into the NHL. Yuna knows it. She also knows that it's every little hockey player's dream to play on the NHL and that statistically, not every boy can.
Hence why a hockey IQ matters.
Hence why she needs to make sure some little shit child doesn't try to crack her son's leg on the ice with his hockey stick.
Hence why, when Ilya's let out of the penalty box, Yuna's unsurprised to find Shane setting up an assist just for him, trusting Ilya to be by the opposing team's goal post right in time.
And Ilya is because they speak this language together— hockey.
Their team, the Knights, win.
Ilya and Shane hug immediately. Even from here, Yuna can see their smiling faces.