Hello Hurricane {English Translation}

1. Domen - Oberstdorf - Day before qualification

Domen quickly ran out of the room towards the dining rooms. Once there, he looked around searchingly, ignoring the curious glances everyone gave him. By now he had gotten used to it and somehow, he also liked being the center of attention. But not in this kind of situation.

As a result, he seemed too stressed and hectic, although he was always coolness and calmness itself. And most importantly, of course: he was an adult. But now? Now he only seemed like an overburdened little child again, not in the least thanks to his boyish appearance which still tricked everyone. The people around him always decided that they had to mother him, and Domen hated it.

The dining room was full of people. People from the ski jumping circus were sat at tables all around the room. Teams from other countries, service and ski people. Although the teams changed between the individual World Cup stops, the faces were mostly the same. A new face only appeared every once in a while. What struck him was that he couldn't see the neon green clothes he actually belonged to and that he urgently needed to find.

"Do you need help?"

Annoyed to have been interrupted in his search, he turned around. He knew far too well who that voice belonged to. They had been on the podium countless times lately. Domen was in front of the Norwegian most of the time, which, he thought, was only right.

"Do I look like I need help?" the Slovenian hissed, hoping earnestly that his opposite disappeared quickly. He just didn't want to think about it. He didn't want to seen to be a helpless child. He was not! He had proved that plenty in the last few weeks. He hated being the sweet little kid.

"Put the claws away, princess! I just wanted to help," Daniel raised his hands defensively and grinned at him.

"Stop calling me that," Domen said, not for the first time, and he knew the chances of his request being granted were slim.

"Stop behaving like one," Daniel called back to him, grinning over his shoulder as he walked over to his team at the table in the other corner of the room.

He stared after him for a moment, imagining himself tearing Daniel to pieces, before concentrating on more pressing matters again. His more detailed fantasies had to wait - now it was time to set priorities. He had to find his team. What had Goran said yesterday?

"How did I know that I'd find you here? You obviously didn't listen yesterday," his brother shouted across the room. At the tables around them, the others began to giggle.

"Thank you for your concern," Domen grumbled angrily, hurrying to Peter and dragging him away. Did Peter always have to embarrass him like that?

"Hey, it's not my fault that you can't listen," he dismissed any notion of blame. "Goran is angry again. You really should be careful."

"Why? I'm here. Okay, a few minutes late. Not my fault. I just couldn't find the way. So... what?" He looked confidently at Peter and hoped that his older brother had understood the message. No further discussions of his alleged failures. Besides, with his success he was above everyone else anyway.

"If you think so," Peter replied, shrugging, before he ran up the stairs and turned into the next room.

The entire crew, who had sat together at breakfast, was sat inside, staring at the presentation that was projected against the wall. Unfortunately, Goran had just thanked the team for their attention with the last slide of his presentation.

Crap. So he was hopelessly late, Domen thought.

One look at Goran and he knew that he was in deep shit. His coach had furrowed his eyebrows and twisted his mouth. "Morning. Glad you've decided to grace us with your presence, Domen." he greeted him, clearly put out.

"Um, yes. Excuse me, I forgot - er ..." -

"To get up?" Goran suggested, and Domen realised that it was better to shut up now. Guiltily he lowered his head and cursed Anže. The kiss-ass had probably sneaked again.

"Well, since you've missed the briefing, I'm sure you'll understand that I can hardly let you go to the press, completely uninformed as you are."

"I'll just get the information from the others," he offered generously. He would easily manage that.

"No, I don't think you will. It's training now, remember? You should focus on training and not on the latest gossip," Goran refused Domen's proposal without batting an eyelid and looked at him challengingly. The room had fallen silent. Many looked at the two with interest, wondering who would probably win this duel. Others, like Peter, kept their eyes lowered, embarrassed. What the hell was this youngster doing?

"You can't do that!" Domen snapped incredulously. What was the point of that? After all, he was the favorite par excellence. No name was mentioned more often than his (not that he had counted) - you just had to turn on the news and listen. He had received countless requests from the press, so many that it was impossible to handle them all.

"Well, since I'm still your coach, I'd say that yes, I can do that. And if you're late again, the consequences will be quite different. Are we clear?"

Seething inside, he glared at his coach but nodded. He knew his coach had the upper hand. For the moment. At some point he would show everyone. Really everyone. Even that damned Norwegian. He should wear warm clothes next time. Daniel wouldn't stand a chance against him. And then his stupid grin would pass him by.