Chapter Text
Hyunjin, 2014
The referee holds up a hand and shouts, but his words are drowned out by the yelling of the crowd. Automatically, he releases his grip on the opponent’s lapel and steps back. The opponent, whose perspiration is visibly dripping off his face, does the same. Both of them adjust their belts, brushing the sweat blurring their vision.
“Hajime!” The referee yells, his voice clearer this time to the both of them. One of them raises their arms, hands coming up to a defensive position. He’s clearly wary of the other now, and the sharp throbbing in his sides wasn’t helping things either. The other wastes no time in charging towards the opponent, and it’s not even a millisecond before the opponent has a solid grip on him, and sweeps his feet out from under him—almost. But his feet don’t leave the floor, and his knee contorts in a weird angle that doesn’t really feel right. “Ashi guruma!” Someone screams from the crowd, and the referee raises the whistle to his lips.
Then there’s a loud snapping sound that only the referee and the opponent can hear, and before the opponent can even finish the throw, he screams in pure agony. Surprised and mildly horrified, the opponent lets go of the lapel in shock. He falls to the floor without resistance, curling up on the floor and clutching his leg. The opponent and the referee and the floor are blurring into one big colorless mess, and his breaths come in short pants. The opponent is full-out panicking now, and the referee is calling the medic team over.
He can only feel the terrible pain somewhere in his leg, and he grips onto that part as if the pressure would relieve the agony. One of the medic accidentally nudges his leg, and a lacerating pain shoots up his leg. He screams, and it’s only a few more seconds until white covers his vision entirely and—
Hyunjin, 2014
Hyunjin was bored. Like, he was bored enough to strangle himself with the covers of the bed. The room was nice enough, with what teddy bears screaming GET WELL SOON in rainbow colours and capital letters and colourful flowers stinking up the room. There was a plain clock hanging on a nail in the wall, and it’s been an hour since he’d woken up.
It didn’t really take a genius to realise he was in a hospital, and it took a few more seconds to realise why he was in the hospital. A snapping of muscles or bones, the excruciating pain dulling all other senses, the shrill whistle of the referee and the blessed unconsciousness.
It did occur to him that he should probably be freaking out over the aching in his knee, wrapped up in layers of bandages. He wasn’t, though. He wondered if he’d still want to continue Judo after he was discharged. Not that it really mattered, anyway. Would he even be allowed to?
The door flings open, bouncing off against the wall. “Hyunjin!” His mom cries, running to the chair by his bed. His dad follows closely, face somewhat less emotional than his mom but nonetheless, worried. “How are you feeling, baby? Does it hurt? Should I ask the doctor for painkillers?” His mom fusses. Hyunjin sighs. He loves his mom, he really does, but he still has to play the part of rebellious, distant teenager. “I’m okay.”
“Are you sure? I could always ring the nurse up for more painkillers, there’s no need to ask the doctors…” She says, but thankfully his dad cuts in. “We’re both worried about you.”
“Yes! The referee and your opponent looked so worried when you collapsed, and we all were wondering what happened. You passed out quite fast, and we thought for a moment you’d gotten choked out. But it turns out it was a pretty severe anterior cruciate ligament tear, a grade 3 one, and you had to undergo a surgery to partially repair it…”
An ACL injury. Hyunjin had heard of those before, horror stories from his coach and seniors. It isn’t a rare case, with most of them getting a grade 1 or 2 tear, and they were able to return back to the sport after about 3 months of rest. But grade 3? He’d never heard of a grade 3 ACL tear before.
“…And the doctors say you’ll need physiotherapy, for at least 10 months. And no physical activity for at least one year.”
It takes roughly a minute for this to sink in. One year? He knows that without a few months of Judo, many great athletes often lose their skill and muscle mass. It’s almost impossible to get back into the sport again. A whole year?
His parents take his silence as a good thing. “You’ll be able to return back to Judo after a year! That doesn’t sound too bad, does it?” His mom pats his shoulder like he’s an injured dog, needing coaxing.
“I’m sorry.” Hyunjin whispers. “What was that?” His dad asks gently.
“I’m sorry.” He says slightly louder. “For what, sweetie? You haven’t done anything wrong.” Hyunjin shakes his head silently and shifts restlessly on the bed. He can’t find a comfortable spot, so with some difficulty and manoeuvring of his injured knee, he flips over to his other side.
“How are you feeling?” His mom prods gently. He shrugs, lifting his shoulders lifelessly. “Please excuse me for a moment.” He says into his pillow, voice muffled. “Sorry? I didn’t quite catch that.” Even while he’s not looking at them, he can see his parents exchanging worried looks.
“Please leave me alone,” He whispers, unable to say it louder. Thankfully, his parents get it, and they click the door shut behind them, worried whispers floating out of the door. Hyunjin turns his face back into the pillow, fingers grasping loosely to the blankets. He’s supposed to be feeling an overwhelming feeling of hopelessness or sadness or distress or anything, but he can’t really bring himself feel anything right now.
In that moment, his entire Judo career replays. Starting at 9, his first grading to yellow belt at 10, and then finally being able to upgrade to higher belts when he turned 13 and then finally getting his brown belt at 16—just earlier this year. He’s never been able to decide which part of Judo he’d liked the most—was it training with Jisung? Maybe it was from being so serious at one moment and the next moment both of them lying on the floor, exhausted and breathing hard, but happy. Or maybe it was when he was standing on the highest step of a podium, and the camera flashes blinding him, but unable to wipe the proud smile off his face.
Not that it mattered anymore.
Hyunjin, 2015
“Good job! Just one more step and you’re done.” The smiley nurse says encouragingly, not complaining despite the death grip Hyunjin has on her wrist. His parents watch from the side, similar frowns etched on their faces. Minho and Jeongin stand beside them, the latter grasping on to his older brother’s hand.
Hyunjin represses a pained groan, and with a tremendous effort, he places his foot down. Minho starts clapping, and Hyunjin can’t be bothered to look at him. He collapses on the wheelchair the nurse pushes to him, and his head flops backward onto the headrest. “Great job, Hyunjin!” Minho says, and Hyunjin’s parents nod. Jeongin smiles shyly at him.
“I feel like I just scaled a mountain,” Hyunjin says, although the pain was mostly gone. The nurse laughs at him, and pats his head fondly (like he’s a kid). She pushes the wheelchair towards his parents (and unofficial family), and his dad takes over the handles. “Thank you, Ms Jeon.” His mother says gratefully.
Ms Jeon laughs again. “It’s just the first session. Thank me when he’s fully recovered, yes?”
“Of course we will!” Jeongin pipes up from beside Hyunjin. The nurse shoots another motherly smile at him and walks off, swinging the clipboard. “How was it, Hyunjin?” Minho asks. “I already have a mother, and she’s right there.” Hyunjin quips, but answers anyway. “It was nothing. There was no pain at all.” He fakes, wiggling his eyebrows at Jeongin who giggles.
“Sure, big guy. So, you don’t mind coming back for another year?” His father says, pushing open the door. He’s screaming internally, but isn’t willing to receive another round of coddling, so he only nods.
Minho pushes him out into the carpark, and he’s hit by a freezing draft of winter wind. “If you can stand physiotherapy, you can stand a minute without a jacket.” Minho says heartlessly as he pushes him across the carpark. “You can’t do this to me, I’m injured!” Hyunjin pouts.
Hyunjin, 2016
He’s lying on his bed, leg propped up on the wooden bedframe. Jisung is next to him, head pillowed on Hyunjin’s stomach. Both of them are using their phones when Hyunjin’s phone starts vibrating and he drops it onto his face. “What a noob,” Jisung mutters, and picks it up. “Why is Coach calling you?”
Hyunjin sits up, making Jisung fall to the floor with a thud. “Dude!” He cries accusingly from the floor, but Hyunjin ignores him and slowly presses the accept button. “Hello?” He says.
“Hyunjin! It’s Chan here.” Chan’s voice, medium-pitched and a bit hoarse floats through the speaker. “Yeah, I realised.”
“I see your injury didn’t affect your sarcasm. So, I’ll take it you’re coming back as soon as you recover?” He winces. Jisung finally stops complaining and sits up with barely concealed interest. Hyunjin’s been avoiding this topic with his parents or anyone else whenever it came up in conversation, skilfully dodging talking about it. But what can he say now that his damn coach is on the line?
“Okay well, you see right, I’m currently occupied and I can’t talk right now, sorry…” Hyunjin is about to press the end call button when Jisung (that traitor) yells, “He’s lazing on his bed!”
Chan, bless his soul, doesn’t take offence and continues, “I’m not forcing you into it or anything. I just called to check up on you.”
“Yeah, don’t worry about it, coach. I’m fine.” He rolls his eyes at Jisung as if saying adults, right? Jisung shrugs, as if saying what can you do about it.
“Really, Hyunjin. How are you doing?”
“I’m really fine. But I don’t think I’ll be going back to Judo for some time, you know? Traumatic experience and all. Also—I’m migrating. Remember?” Hyunjin says it lightly, but he’s spent countless nights staring up at the belts dangling from the hooks on his bedroom wall. Should he go back or not? His alarmingly decreasing muscle mass say YES but his brain and heart and entire being is screaming NO. He doesn’t want to relieve that feeling of helplessness and desperation ever again, and he doesn’t think he can ever see, much less execute another throw without feeling the phantom ache in his knee.
“That’s alright, Hyunjin. Just know that me and your friend Jisung and everyone that loves you—will still be here for you, alright kid?” Chan says in that overly fatherly tone of his. “Okay, dad.” Hyunjin teases and hangs up. Over the years, Chan had become more of a friend and a brother (he’s barely 15 years older than Hyunjin, too young to be a father) to him than a distant and intimidating coach figure he once thought he was.
“I don’t love you, though.” Jisung grumbles, still sitting on the floor. “Not after you shoved me off the bed.” He adds. “It’s whatever. I never loved you anyway.” Hyunjin snorts, and Jisung jumps up to tackle him back down on the bed and has him in a hold under 5 seconds.
“Wow, you’re getting fatter by the minute.” It’s a passing remark, but it stings. He is getting fatter, and will continue because Judo isn’t part of his life anymore. But then, it’s not really about getting fatter. During Judo, he felt like he had a purpose and a goal in life. Now? He’s a semi-cripple, unable to walk without someone or something helping him. Hyunjin shakes off the weird feeling and laughs, shoving Jisung off him. “Same to you.” He says before lying down on Jisung, laughing.
“Wait. Dude, are you really moving?” Jisung suddenly says, still stuck under Hyunjin. Hyunjin rolls his eyes. They’ve been over this at least a thousand times, but it seems like Jisung just wasn’t able to accept it. “Yes. You were even there when my parents broke the news to him.” Hyunjin replies.
“I know! But it’s just that—won’t you be leaving everything behind? And it’s not just like moving to another street down the road. It’s a whole new country! Japan? You’ve never even been there before.” Jisung wails. “Kind of, I guess. But Judo was ninety percent of my life, and I don’t have it anymore. There’s nothing else to leave behind, so trust me when I say I won’t regret it.” Hyunjin says.
“How about me, then?” Jisung pouts. “You’re one percent, and the other nine percent is the fried chicken.” Hyunjin jokes.
“You brat!” Jisung says, enraged. “I won’t miss you for sure.” Hyunjin says before quickly retreating out of the room, his best friend’s screams chasing him down the hallway.
Seungmin, 2016
“Just remember to keep attacking, alright? If you see an opening for a throw or even a counter, just go for it. Don’t hesitate. And if he has you pinned down on the floor don’t get on your back.” Changbin says gruffly, patting his shoulders. He’s trying to appear relaxed for Seungmin’s sake, but Seungmin can see he’s quite nervous himself. “Yeah, got it. It’s not as if I’ve spent the past 7 years of my life doing Judo.” He smiles.
“Brat,” He mutters. “But don’t injure anyone again, okay?” Felix says cheekily from beside Changbin. He’s behind their coach, having just won his opponent in less than half a minute. Seungmin frowns, saying, “Stop trying to guilt trip me into buying you food after the competition. It wasn’t even you who I injured!”
“Felix, don’t say it like that. It wasn’t Seungmin’s fault.” Changbin mutters to Felix, who realises his slip-up late and covers his mouth. It’s been over a year, and everyone around him still thinks that he’s hung up over that one competition, and they tiptoe around that accident. Truth be told, he still thinks about it sometimes—if he would’ve been able to avoid injuring the opponent if he had just executed the throw cleaner. Sometimes, he wonders how the guy is doing but then he reminds himself he’s just another opponent and how bad could it have been? It’s not as if he can do anything about it besides laughing it off.
Felix opens his mouth, about to make another stupid remark but the referee is signalling him and his opponent to come onto the mats. He casts another quick glance at Changbin and Felix, and the latter does a fist pump at him, whooping loudly. Rolling his eyes, he bows quickly once, twice, then thrice at the opponent when both of them are standing facing each other.
He barely has time to be nervous. The panel signal the okay, and the referee blows the whistle and the timer begins. He pulls his belt tight and charges forward.
Hyunjin, 2016
Hyunjin sighs at looks out of the glass panels. Jisung sits next to him, bouncing in the hard plastic chair. “You’re literally only here for a week, and you chose to spend a day at a damn Judo competition? You don’t even do Judo!” Hyunjin complains.
“Maybe I have a secret interest in it.” Jisung says. “Maybe I’m going to compete today.”
“Don’t be dumb.” Hyunjin rolls his eyes and looks back at the match. The previous one had just ended—the blonde-haired dude ended the opponent in like, thirty seconds. Now that would be a worthy opponent, he thinks, then quickly shakes his head to clear that thought. He didn’t even do Judo anymore.
The new kid—a black-haired one steps onto the mats, and the blonde kid from the previous match whoops from the sidelines. The black haired dude turns around to look at him then quickly turns back around again, and the match begins. Hyunjin doesn’t really care for it anymore, and he isn’t really actively watching the match—until when the black-haired dude executes an effortless ashi guruma, and the opponent lands with a solid thud on his back. “Ippon!” The referee yells, and the crowd starts cheering.
Strange, Hyunjin thinks. There were a number of people using that throw as one of the main throws, but the technique felt oddly familiar. The reap of the leg and the speed of the throw—why did it seem so familiar to him? “Hey, Jisung,” He nudges the boy next to him, “Does that black-haired dude, the one that just won, seem familiar to you?”
“Oh, so you do remember him! He’s the one from a year ago.” Jisung says casually. “Sorry, what?” Hyunjin says. “Don’t you remember? He’s the one that injured your dumb ass.” Jisung nods towards the guy walking off the mats.
So that’s why. Hyunjin is stunned into silence for a moment, but then it’s quickly replaced by a short flare of anger at the guy for ending his Judo career so ruthlessly and quickly. Didn’t he feel any remorse?
But then, as Jisung looks at him worriedly (Hyunjin was probably turning alarmingly red), he realises it’d been his own choice to not continue Judo after he recovered.
Besides, it’s not as if it’s his fault that I didn’t fall properly, he rationalises. He realises how mature he sounds, and laughs out loud. Two years ago, he’d have been so blinded with vindictive rage he’s sure his past self would’ve jumped right out of the stands to pummel the guy down. But two whole years lying around in bed had given him too much time to think.
“Are you even alive anymore? Dude!” Jisung, tired of snapping his fingers in front of his face, jabs Hyunjin in the stomach and he bends over in pain, clutching his stomach. “Sorry, but not really. Don’t you want to see who got first?” Jisung nudges the exact same spot he’d jabbed Hyunjin in, and Hyunjin can only glower at his best friend.
“Is it the black-haired dude? The one with ugly bangs?” Hyunjin says, and looks up. It is, and the guy is smiling, his eyes curving upwards, and it lights up his whole face. Hyunjin resists the urge to cover his eyes even from fifty metres away. “Not bad-looking, right?” Jisung nudges.
“Eh, he’s okay. Besides, I’m better.” Hyunjin says, but his eyes are fixed on the guy. The reporters are talking to him now, and he smiles shyly at their cameras, and Hyunjin smiles back subconsciously.
The next day, the papers come out with the guy on the headlines. KIM SEUNGMIN CLINCHES FIRST PLACE AT JAPAN OPEN NATIONALS! Followed by multiple pictures of him on the mats, on the podium and smiling at the cameras. Hyunjin has never been one for reading, but the grainy photos somehow had managed to capture him smiling perfectly, and he continues reading.
Kim Seungmin, youngest internationally renowned Judoka at just seventeen years of age, gets a gold medal in Japan. He’s a household name in Judo, and is known as the best youth Judoka.
Hyunjin stops reading for a moment, stunned. Best youth Judoka? He remembers, vaguely that an article in the newspapers had published his picture three years ago, after winning gold in a youth competition in Paris. They’d dubbed him “Korea’s uprising star”, but not best youth Judoka.
He’s thought about Judo countless times, but he hadn’t factored in other aspiring Judokas, neither had he thought about his ruthlessly competitive spirit. Even while back in the sport, he’d never been willing to lose a fight, even if it was something as small as randori. What made him think he’d be able to stand others taking his spot as the top?
He doesn’t really know if it’s the jealousy speaking or the logic, but he throws the newspaper down, and picks up his phone. He scrolls down until he sees the contact he’s always hovered over for the past year, and for the first time in two years, clicks call without hesitation.
Seungmin, 2016
“Good job.” Changbin rarely gives out praises, so whenever one comes Seungmin’s way, who’s he to reject it? “One of the cleanest throws I’ve ever seen you do. Went in for the kill immediately and it worked really well.” Seungmin grins and tries to hug his coach, but Changbin nudges him away, saying, “You did well, but I have limits.”
Felix, eavesdropping indiscreetly, budges in. “You didn’t compliment me like that when I won!” He whines, and Changbin rolls his eyes, and the edges of his mouth quirk upwards. “I did. Isn’t your prize presentation next?” To others, their coach would seem distant and relatively emotionless, but both of his students can see that he’s clearly happy.
At that moment, an announcement goes up for second place Lee Felix from Korea to report to the judge’s tent for prize presentation, and Felix almost swears and runs off. Seungmin and Changbin watch him go, and Seungmin wiggles his eyebrows at Changbin. Their coach frowns, and immediately becomes defensive. “What?” He snaps at Seungmin.
“Just saying, you’re just five years older me, and you’re barely three years older than Felix. It could happen, believe it or not.” Seungmin says, still smiling angelically. “Don’t talk bullshit.” Changbin punches Seungmin on the shoulder, seeming way younger than he actually is. “I’m just saying,” Seungmin says.
Changbin crosses his arms over his chest, and instead of finding his coach intimidating, Seungmin finds it almost adorable that the twenty-two year old is reduced to confusion over a nineteen year old. “Don’t you have better things to do?” He says, and walks off (probably to find Felix).
“No, not really!” He calls after Changbin, who doesn’t even turn around to look at him. He laughs, and feels the medal hanging around his chest shift around. Catching a glimpse of the shiny gold medal, he can’t help but feel proud, even if it’s just for a moment.
Hyunjin, 2016
Hyunjin hangs around at the entrance, bag slung over his shoulder and barefooted. He can see Chan coaching the children’s class, and he laughs as one of them falls to the floor, looking adorably confused. Chan walks over to him and says something, and the boy’s training partner pulls him up. Hyunjin remembers he used to force Chan to let him help coach the kids—they were kind of cute.
He takes one more hesitant step in, and a kid notices him. “Hyunjin hyung!” The kid screams, but he’s unable to move from his position on the ground because he had another kid down in a hold. The other kids look up immediately and similar smiles break out on their faces at the sight of ‘their favourite hyung’, as Hyunjin claims. He smiles back at them and waves, happy with the knowledge that they hadn’t forgotten him.
Chan finally looks up and sees him. He tells the kids to stop making such a ruckus, yes that’s Hyunjin hyung, yes he’s okay, yes he’s finally coming back to Judo, no you can’t bully him now that he just recovered. Hyunjin laughs, and walks over, initial nervousness disappearing as the kids clamour to hug him and talk to him and one of his favourite kids kiss him on his cheek, her face turning red. “You’re so cute, Seulgi,” He coos, picking her up and setting her on his shoulder. She screams in joy and Hyunjin can feel her sweaty hands wrapping around his neck, but he doesn’t mind.
“Pick me up too!” A few of them chorus, and Hyunjin gladly complies, setting Seulgi down and carrying another kid up, this one a shorter boy called Jinhwan. He spins Jinhwan around, and the kid pouts when Hyunjin puts him back down, still clinging on to his arms.
“Alright! Guys, we have ten minutes left to the end of training. Finish up and start cooldown. Jeongin, you lead cooldown.” Chan instructs, and Hyunjin catches Jeongin’s eyes. Hyunjin flashes a smile at his favourite, and Jeongin perks up when he realises he’s been noticed, and waves enthusiastically back, smiling widely.
Hyunjin had been worried that the twelve-year-old wouldn’t respect him or care about him anymore, and he’s beyond relieved to realise that would never happen. Jeongin and him had grew close through Jeongin’s older brother, Minho. The first time Hyunjin had went over to Minho’s house for a project, he’d grown attached to the little boy trailing his hyung around. Hyunjin knew Jeongin hero-worshipped him a little, and didn’t mind. In fact, he was flattered to be someone’s role model.
He walks over to Jeongin and ignores Chan calling him in favour of hugging the younger. Surprised, Jeongin hugs back tentatively but when Hyunjin hooks his chin over his shoulder, Jeongin relaxes. “I’m so glad to see you, hyung.” Jeongin says shyly into Hyunjin’s shirt. The hard material of the judogi digs into Hyunjin’s face, but he’s too happy to care. “Me too.” Hyunjin replies, patting Jeongin fondly on the head as they part.
“Stop disturbing them!” Chan yells, and he rolls his eyes before walking up to his coach. “Let’s talk, Hyunjin-ah,” Chan says, and he climbs up the stairs into the stand. Hyunjin follows after him, pulling his bag. He settles down in the second row, and Hyunjin follows suit.
“I’m not going to waste time with the pleasantries, because we’re already past that stage. Hyunjin-ah, why do you want to do this?” Chan’s words are probing, curious, but there’s no malice in his tone. Hyunjin guesses it’s because he’s worried.
He shrugs. “I felt like it.” He wasn’t about to tell his coach that he’d been envious of the spotlight some hotshot was receiving. He didn’t want the coach to think Hyunjin hadn’t changed at all in the past two years.
“You flew all the way back from Japan to Korea for this. There must be a reason why.” Chan says, frowning a little.
“Can I not miss Judo? And you and Jeongin.” Hyunjin tries to flatter the coach in hopes of evading his question, but it doesn’t work. “Did I ever tell you why I became a coach?” Hyunjin shakes his head. He’d been curious, but he didn’t want to make Chan uncomfortable.
“I did something really bad in the 2005 ASEAN games. I was losing. There was half a minute left, and the opponent was in the lead. So, I did something terrible, and from what I heard, the opponent’s knee was messed up pretty badly.” Chan says, eyes regretful. “Did you win?” Hyunjin was aware he shouldn’t be asking, but he can’t help himself as the words spill out.
“Yes. Yes, I won, but there never has been a moment when I don’t regret it. There isn’t any excuse or reason justifiable for what I did, and because I was selfish and greedy, I ruined another person’s life,” Chan continues, “So I left. Everyone was congratulating me on doing well, on winning, but they didn’t know what I’d done. They thought the opponent had injured himself, and I couldn’t stand that knowledge. I left for about five years, but then I realised I was living a life without purpose or any direction.”
“So you became a coach?” Hyunjin asks. “Yeah. By some stroke of luck, they accepted me back into Judo, and I’ve never looked back once. But listen, Hyunjin-ah. I regret that entire incident. If I were ever given the chance to lose but let the opponent walk away uninjured, I would’ve done it without hesitation.” Chan looks straight into Hyunjin’s eyes, and says, “You don’t have to tell me why you’re coming back. I know you’re good at Judo, I know you love the sport, but there’s always things that are more important than it.”
“Like what?” Hyunjin asks, confused. Chan doesn’t reply to the question, only slinging an arm around his shoulders and saying, “I’m just glad you’re back.”