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Summary
The rustle of blades on the ice surface had accompanied Robinavitch his whole life. He heard it as a youngster, first stepping onto the ice. He heard it as a teenager, going to his first championships. He heard it as almost an Olympic champion. He heard it now, as a coach. The time was twelve thirty-five. A time when definitely no one should be at the rink, but... Michael entered the ice from the upper stands. His heavy gaze followed every movement of the guy, how he moved on the ice, abusing his body.