THE NEW SHADOW
THE NEW SHADOW
17. AN UNEASY CALM
The sun had already pushed its way through the curtains. It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t shy. It was Rio. And that was the very first difference.
Ilya was already awake. He didn’t know exactly why. Maybe the heat. Maybe the distant noise of the city. Maybe that strange feeling of being somewhere that didn’t belong to him… but was starting to feel good anyway. He stared at the ceiling for a few seconds. Then smiled faintly.
—I learn fast…” he murmured to himself.
He got up, walked straight to João’s room, and knocked once.
Nothing. He turned the handle and stepped inside. João was still completely asleep, face down on the bed, one leg hanging out from under the sheet like the world didn’t exist. Ilya watched him for a few seconds. Shook his head once. And without asking permission… launched himself onto the bed.
—Wake up.
João didn’t react.
Ilya bounced again.
—Wake up, Brazilian.
Again.
—Wake up.
João groaned.
—…what the hell…?
Ilya kept jumping mercilessly.
—I learn fast.
João opened one eye. Then the other. And when he finally focused properly, he found Ilya on top of him wearing that dangerous half-smile again. Silence. One second. Two. João stared at him. Really stared.
—Rozanov…” his voice came out rough, still heavy with sleep, “you just got yourself into very serious trouble.”
Ilya held the stare without moving.
—Hurry up,” he said simply. “Let’s go. We need to enjoy the day.”
And he climbed off the bed like nothing had happened. João followed him with his eyes, still processing whatever the hell that had just been… then let out a quiet, disbelieving laugh.
—This Russian…
The meeting with the sponsors was canceled in less than five minutes.
João sent a short message.
Good morning. Sorry for the short notice. The weather change hit Ilya pretty hard overnight, so we'd rather let him rest today. Would it be possible to reschedule the session for tomorrow?
The reply came almost immediately.
We're sorry to hear that. We hope Ilya feels better soon. We'll need to rearrange today's schedule—we had a great plan prepared for you both—but if possible, please let us know by the end of the day how he's doing so we can coordinate tomorrow's session.
João read the message.
—All set.
He slipped his phone back into his pocket.
Ilya looked up.
—What'd they say?
—Tomorrow works.
—And you told them I'm sick?
—Yeah.
Ilya raised an eyebrow.
—I'm not sick.
João shrugged.
—I needed something they'd actually believe.
—You could've just said you wanted the day off.
A crooked smile tugged at João's lips.
—And spend half the day answering questions?
He shook his head.
—No, thanks.
A quiet laugh escaped Ilya.
Still... he didn't look convinced.
—I don't like people speaking for me.
João caught the change in his voice.
His smile faded just a little.
—I know.
He held his gaze.
—It won't happen again.
Ilya looked at him for another couple of seconds.
Then he gave a small nod.
—Okay.
The mood settled again. Not uncomfortable. Just... different from a few minutes earlier.
There was no proper breakfast. No schedule. No routine. Just quick hands grabbing fruit from the kitchen, a bottle of water... and the keys to one of the cars.
A car no one else ever used. A car that was there just for him. Like so many other things in João's life. João twirled the keys around one finger.
—Ready?
Ilya took a second before answering.
Then he grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl.
—Yeah.
—Let's go.
The drive to the beach wasn’t quiet. It was… alive. Windows down. Warm air rushing inside without asking permission. Music in the background. People everywhere. Colors. Movement. Everything moving too fast for someone like Ilya. And somehow… he didn’t want to miss any of it.
They stopped at a small bakery almost hidden between buildings. João walked in like he owned the place.
—Bom dia.
People answered him with smiles. Familiarity. Affection. Ilya noticed all of it.
They came back out carrying warm bread, strong coffee… and something else that didn’t need a name.
—Is it always like this?” Ilya asked while looking around.
João shrugged casually.
—That’s what it’s like when you’re home.
The beach was already awake. But not in a tourist way. In a real way. Ilya noticed immediately. People weren’t looking at him like a celebrity. Or an athlete. They looked at him… like he was just another guy there.
And João?
People greeted him constantly.
—¡E aí!
—Fala, irmão!
—Bonito hoje, hein!
Laughter. Whistles. Completely unfiltered comments.
Ilya frowned slightly.
—Do you know them?
—No.
—Then why do they talk to you like that?
João took another sip of coffee, perfectly relaxed.
—Because they can.
They walked without direction. Without rushing. At some point, somebody offered them caipirinhas. In broad daylight. Right there on the street. Ilya stared at the glass. Then at João.
— Wait… we can drink out here?
João was already drinking his.
—Yeah.
—This early?
João glanced sideways at him.
—Shut up… and just do it.
Ilya hesitated for one second before taking a sip. He immediately made a face.
—That has alcohol in it.
—Welcome.
And then he heard it. Not from one place. From everywhere. A radio. Somebody singing. The street. The sand. The people.
Mais Que Nada — Sergio Mendes & Brasil ’66
And something shifted. It wasn’t planned. It simply happened.
A ball flew toward them out of nowhere. Someone shouted. Ilya caught it on instinct. Threw it back badly. Laughter. João nudged him lightly.
—Go.
—What?
—Go.
And within seconds, they were in the middle of it. Playing. No real rules. No common language. And somehow understanding everything anyway.
Farther down the beach, another group stood in a circle juggling a soccer ball endlessly with their feet. Ilya stopped to watch.
—What’s that?
—Soccer… but with dignity.
Ilya snorted.
—That’s not soccer.
—Try it.
He didn’t. But he didn’t walk away either. He stayed there watching. Smiling.
The water came later. Cold. Salty. Aggressive. Perfect. João jumped in first. Ilya followed immediately after him. They disappeared beneath the waves. Came back up. Shoved each other. Laughed. No words needed.
Later, they built something in the sand together. Nothing important. Nothing impressive. But they built it anyway.
And at some point… without realizing it… Ilya stopped thinking.
He just let himself exist inside the day. The sun weighed heavily against his shoulders now. Skin hot. Breathing slower. Body exhausted… but light. Ilya dropped backward onto the sand, staring up at the sky.
—I think…” he muttered, “I need a vacation after this vacation.”
João stood over him, looking down with the faintest smile.
—Rozanov…”
Pause.
—This is only the beginning.
And for the first time… Ilya didn’t answer. But he didn’t get up either. He just smiled faintly. Perfectly. Because now… he really was ready.
The road changed. It stopped being flat. Stopped being urban. And started climbing. Ilya noticed before he even asked. The streets narrowed. The houses grew farther apart. Greenery slowly started swallowing the concrete whole.
—Where are we going?” he asked, looking out the window.
João didn’t answer right away.
He only smiled.
—Trust me.
Ilya turned toward him somewhere between curious and suspicious.
—That’s never a good sign.
—Not for you. For me, it is.
The car stopped in an open area. No buildings. No city noise. Only wind. A lot of wind. And then Ilya saw it. People. Harnesses. Fabric wings stretched wide. Colors floating in the air. Bodies lifting off the ground… like it was the most normal thing in the world.
Ilya stepped out of the car and froze there, staring. Processing.
—No.
João shut the door.
—Yes.
—No.
—Yes.
—No.
João looked at him, amused.
—You’re running out of arguments.
Ilya shook his head without taking his eyes off the drop ahead of them.
—That’s not an argument… that’s a terrible decision.
The wind hit hard, carrying the smell of the ocean and the distant sounds of the city below. And that feeling… of height. João walked over and stopped beside him. No rush.
—It’s Pedra Bonita.
Ilya didn’t answer.
—You fly over everything,” João continued. “The city, the ocean, the jungle… all of it.”
Tense silence.
—You have no control.
Ilya turned slowly toward him.
—That doesn’t help.
João let out a quiet laugh.
—That’s the point.
A man approached them speaking fast Portuguese. Instructions. Gestures. Explanations. Ilya understood almost none of it. But he didn’t need the words to understand the intention.
—I don’t know if I want to do this,” he admitted finally.
João looked at him. No teasing this time.
—Are you scared?
Ilya held the eye contact. Didn’t deny it.
—Yeah.
One second of silence. Just wind. João stepped closer, enough for his voice to drop lower.
—I didn’t know Russians were afraid of things.
Ilya narrowed his eyes.
—I didn’t know Brazilians were this annoying.
—We’re not annoying.
Pause.
—We’re intense.
Ilya looked back toward the edge. A man sprinted forward, jumped… and disappeared. Then reappeared floating through the air. He inhaled deeply.
—Fuck.
João smiled.
—That sounds better.
The harness felt wrong. Too tight. Too close against his body. Too real. The instructor kept talking, pointing, repeating things. João was already ready. Relaxed. Like he’d done this a thousand times.
Ilya couldn’t stop staring at the void below.
—If this goes wrong…”
—It won’t go wrong.
—You didn’t finish the sentence.
—Didn’t need to.
João stepped closer one last time and adjusted one of the straps. His hands were firm. Precise. Natural. But for one second… they stayed there. Ilya lifted his gaze. Their eyes met. Close. Too close.
—Run,” João said quietly. “Don’t think.”
And then… it was his turn.
The wind rose sharply. The wing inflated behind him. The instructor shouted something. Ilya didn’t hear it. Or maybe he chose not to. One step. Two. Three. And the ground disappeared.
His body reacted before his mind could. His heartbeat exploded. Air crashed against his face. The entire world opened beneath him.
—Holy shit!
But he didn’t fall. He flew.
The city stretched endlessly beneath him. The ocean glittered like it had no ending. The jungle breathed below everything else. Everything. Absolutely everything. And for the first time in a very long time… Ilya wasn’t controlling anything. He was just existing.
The fear was still there. But something else was pushing harder now. Something bigger. Stronger. Freedom. He turned his head. Farther away, another glider floated effortlessly through the sky. João. Calm. Like he belonged there. Ilya looked at him. And for one second—just one second—he smiled. Really smiled.
The wind shifted. His body tilted with it. Adrenaline rushed through him again. But it wasn’t fear anymore. It was something else entirely.
When he landed, his legs shook beneath him. Not from weakness. From impact. He pulled off the helmet and inhaled deeply once. Then again. João landed shortly after and walked toward him slowly, like he already knew exactly what had just happened inside him. They stopped in front of each other. Silent.
—Well?” João asked.
Ilya looked at him, still processing, chest still uneven.
—I don’t know…”
Pause.
—if I want to do that again…”
Another pause.
—Or if I’m never going to want to stop doing it.
João smiled faintly.
—Told you.
Ilya shook his head but didn’t argue. He looked back toward the mountain. Toward the emptiness below it. Then back at João. Something had changed. He didn’t know what. Didn’t know how. But he wasn’t the same person who had jumped. And that… was only the beginning.
They started walking slowly afterward until, little by little, the place emptied around them. It no longer felt touristy. No unnecessary noise. Just a high open hill overlooking everything. The city stretched endlessly below them. The ocean breathing in the distance. The sky slowly turning orange.
They walked the last stretch to the top. When they finally got there... they stopped. For a moment, neither of them said anything.
They didn't have to.
Ilya rested his forearms on his knees, leaning forward, his body still buzzing with adrenaline that hadn't completely worn off.
João stood beside him, looking out over the city.
Calm.
At home.
—I don't get it, —Ilya said at last, his eyes still fixed on the skyline.
João turned his head slightly.
—Get what?
Ilya took a moment, searching for the right words.
—You.
João waited.
—You have everything, —Ilya continued. —Your family. Your country. Money. Your life here...
His voice softened.
—You could stay. Live a quiet life. You wouldn't have to do anything.
He finally looked at him.
—So why?
A breeze drifted between them.
The view was breathtaking.
The weather couldn't have been better.
—Why leave? —Ilya went on. —Why push yourself this hard? Why go all the way there...
He held João's gaze.
—...even to try to beat me?
There was no arrogance in his voice.
Just honesty.
João lowered his eyes.
A faint smile crossed his face.
Not a light one.
—Because it wasn't easy.
A slight crease formed between Ilya's brows.
João stepped closer to the railing, resting both hands on it as he looked out over the city.
—I moved to Canada when I was a kid, —he began. —I didn't understand the language. I didn't understand the people.
A quiet breath.
—I didn't understand... anything.
His eyes stayed on the horizon.
—And they didn't understand me either.
His voice wasn't the same anymore.
This wasn't the João from the beach.
Or the one who laughed so easily.
—They laughed at the way I talked.
—The way I moved.
—The way I was.
He let out a quiet breath.
—Everything.
Ilya listened without interrupting.
—I wasn't like this back here, —João continued. —I hugged people. I stood close to them. I liked being around them.
A humorless smile appeared.
—That didn't really work over there.
The wind lifted a few strands of his hair.
He didn't move.
—I had to become someone else.
His voice grew quieter.
—Cold.
—Quiet.
—Distant.
Ilya swallowed.
—Not because I wanted to.
João glanced at him.
—Because if I didn't...
they would've destroyed me.
The words lingered between them.
Real.
Heavy.
—What about your family? —Ilya asked almost instinctively.
João gave a small shake of his head.
—They weren't there.
He looked back toward the city.
—My parents have always been focused on work.
—and on God.
Another slow breath.
—And even if they'd been there...
they couldn't have given me what I needed.
For the first time, he looked directly at Ilya.
—Then why didn't you come back?
João smiled to himself.
—Pride.
Respect.
Stubbornness.
I don't know.
He shrugged lightly.
—I still ask myself that sometimes.
Ilya never looked away.
—So I learned.
—to swim on my own.
—to fight on my own.
—to earn my place...
without anyone's help.
He straightened up, taking a deep breath.
—And when I finally did...
when nobody could ever look down on me again...
his voice became almost a whisper.
—that's when I won.
Neither of them spoke.
The quiet between them wasn't uncomfortable.
It was full.
—That must've hurt, —Ilya said quietly.
—I don't care about the money, —João replied, even softer.
—I don't care about the fame.
His eyes drifted back toward the horizon.
—I just want to look at myself...
and feel like I'm enough.
Ilya couldn't answer.
Something inside him shifted.
He thought about his father.
His mother.
His brother.
Everything he'd never had.
Everything he'd never fixed.
Then... he thought about Shane.
The contrast hit him harder than he expected.
Without realizing it, he took a small step closer.
—But nothing's perfect, —João said suddenly.
Ilya frowned.
—What do you mean?
João kept looking ahead.
—I'm not perfect.
His fingers tightened slightly around the railing.
—There's something about me...
that nobody knows.
Now Ilya turned toward him completely.
Focused.
Alert.
—Tell me.
João drew in a slow, controlled breath.
—You can't have everything in life...
You know that, right?
—Yeah.
—Good.
His eyes dropped.
—There's something about me.
Something that's always been there.
—I can't change it.
—I can't stop it.
—No matter how hard I try.
Ilya watched him carefully, trying to understand.
—I don't need to explain it, —João said quietly.
His eyes finally met Ilya's.
—I think...
you already know.
For a heartbeat... the world stopped.
Ilya didn't answer. But something in his expression shifted.
Confusion.
Recognition.
Denial.
All at once.
—...You mean...?
His voice came out quieter than usual.
The words never reached the end of the sentence.
He couldn't finish it.
João looked at him.
Held his gaze.
Then gave the smallest nod.
Nothing more.
He didn't need to.
It was enough.
The air suddenly felt heavier.
The sounds of the city faded into the distance.
The sunset carried on... as if nothing had happened.
But for Ilya... everything had just changed.
He stood perfectly still.
As though his body had no idea what to do with what he'd just learned.
His lips parted slightly.
No words came out.
Only a slow breath.
More careful this time.
More aware.
And for the first time in his life…
he found himself blushing.