The kitchen suddenly feels too small.
Chicago.
The words echo in his head as he releases Nala’s paws and lets her drop back onto all fours. Koda barks once, tail thumping against the cabinets like she understands that something big just happened.
“Guess we’re going to Chicago,” Lukas mutters, running a hand through his damp hair.
He moves fast after that. Too fast. The adrenaline hasn’t worn off it’s settled into his chest, buzzing under his ribs.
He disappears into his bedroom and yanks his suitcase from the top shelf of the closet. It lands on the bed with a heavy thud. For a second, he just stares at it.
This isn’t a tournament.
This isn’t a weekend road trip.
This is the beginning.
He unzips it and starts packing. Training gear first. Compression shirts. Practice jerseys. Extra laces. His worn-in gloves, he hesitates over those before carefully placing them inside like something fragile. Skates go in last, blades wrapped in guards.
He pauses at his dresser.
On top sits a small framed photo-him at sixteen, gap-toothed grin, standing between his parents in the stands of his first junior championship. His dad’s arm is around his shoulders. His mom’s eyes are red from crying.
He picks it up, studies it for a moment.
“Wir haben es geschafft,” he murmurs softly. We made it.
The frame goes into the front pocket of the suitcase.
He moves through the apartment one last time, checking chargers, passport, wallet. His phone buzzes again-texts flooding in now that the announcement must have gone public.
Unknown numbers. Former teammates. Old coaches.
Chicago Blackhawks.
The logo flashes through his mind-sharp, bold, new.
By noon he’s in a car headed toward the airport, city streets blurring past the window. His knee bounces the entire ride. He keeps rereading the email like it might vanish.
Report to the United Center.
July 1. 9:00 AM.
-note: mini time skip here, I just wanted to get him to Chicago and settled in so we can move on ^^'-
The plane lands in Chicago under a wide stretch of summer sky. The air feels heavier here—warmer, thicker than home. He steps outside the terminal with his bag slung over his shoulder and pauses.
New city. New team. New life.
The drive downtown makes his chest tighten.
And then he sees it.
United Center
It rises out of the city. Banners hang outside. The Blackhawks logo sits proudly above the entrance.
His stomach flips.
He pays the driver, steps out onto the pavement, and just stands there for a second with his suitcase at his side.
This is where legends played.
This is where Stanley Cup banners hang.
He adjusts the strap on his bag and walks toward the doors.
Each step feels heavier than the last.
Inside, the building hums with quiet activity-staff members moving briskly, the faint echo of skates somewhere deeper in the arena. The air smells like ice and rubber mats and something distinctly professional.
He gives his name at the front desk.
The woman behind it smiles knowingly. “Welcome to Chicago, Lukas.”
The words hit differently in person.
A staff member leads him down a hallway lined with framed photos. Championship teams, captains lifting the Cup, moments frozen in time. Lukas walks slower than he needs to, eyes scanning every frame.
One day.
He tightens his grip on his bag.
The locker room door opens.
A few other athletes are arriving at the same time as him, some look familiar.
Inside, fresh lockers wait-jerseys neatly folded, nameplates already printed.
Wolfgang Adler. Printed in large letters above his locker.
Blackhawks colors.
His breath catches.
For the first time since reading that email, the reality fully settles in.
This isn’t just a draft pick.
This is home now.
Spring Month: 2 
Night 
Clear Moon: 
