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Hajime doesn’t know how he got talked into this, and he had even been there. Static hisses in his ear. Scratch that, he’s still being talked into this.
“Summer Harvest to Coconut Head, do you copy? Over,” says a voice, coming from the earpiece tucked into his ear.
He winces and raises a hand, but he doesn’t fiddle with the earpiece, just hovering his hand by the side of his head.
“I told you that’s not my code name,” he tells her, trying to move his lips as little as possible so as to not draw attention.
“Whatever,” huffs the voice of Natsumi Kuzuryuu. “Just tell me what you see when you get there, alright?”
Hajime is already there, but he doesn’t tell her that. His hand falls to his side as he surveys his surroundings. The rumours proved true: Hope’s Peak does indeed have an ice rink. For the main course students, of course. Not for the reserve course students. He folds his arms over his chest, hunching his shoulders and hugging himself as the cold flanks him from all angles, tinging the ends of his gloved fingers warm.
Ahead of him lies a rectangular sheet of ice bordered by barriers that Hajime knows can’t be glass but looks like it, slightly frosted. Approximately a dozen students scatter the ice rink. Nearby, two boys march around the edge, one with a mischievous grin and another with a dark cap more fitting for summer, hand-in-hand, while a blond guy lectures a blushing girl with braids, their fingers loosely clinging to the other’s as they hobble along. Hajime knows them. He knows every main course student. Studied them like they were on the syllabus.
Yet they don’t know him. Why would they? No one glances twice at him. Their eyes pass him like a gust of wind. He shivers.
“Summer Harvest to Coconut Head!” Natsumi snaps. “Hello? What’s going on?”
It couldn’t have been more than twenty seconds since she last said something. Hajime grimaces.
“I’m here now,” he says.
“I knew it!” She perks up and lets out a laugh. “Alright, so according to my insider, my brother and Peko are going to be there in ten minutes. When you see them, you’ve got to tail them and tell me if they - ”
Something shunts into the back of Hajime. He loses his balance and with a shout, flails his arms as he crashes face-first into the snow. The world turns black, then white as he lifts his head. Scrunching his eyes shut, he props himself up, spits out snow and coughs, all while pain rattles in his head like loose gears.
“What’s going on?” squawks Natsumi, crackling, but not in his ear.
Below him. When he tumbled over, the earpiece fell out of his ear. A swear leaves his lips and he sifts through the snow, trying to find it.
He knows the person who barged into him hasn’t moved on, but he also knows he isn’t supposed to be here so keeps his head down. Whoever they are, they don’t bend down to help or immediately ask what’s happening. Their shadow presses down on him like a foot on his back.
Seconds pass.
“Sorry,” the person says, as soft as the snow he planted into, and he tenses. Recognises the voice.
Hajime swivels his head around.
“Nanami?” he says.
Chiaki stands over him, her head tilted to one side, gripping a portable game console with both hands. In her pink, puffy winter coat, she resembles a lychee fruit, round and textured. Her pale eyes peep out from beneath the rim of her bobble hat, pulled down to cover her ears.
Recognition sparks in her eyes.
“Hinata-kun?” she says, staring down at him. Confusion creases her face. “What are you doing here? Did you want to skate?”
“Um...” He trails off and rubs the back of his neck. “I... uh, I can’t ice skate.”
Strictly speaking, he can. Just badly. The few times he went with his former high school, he ended up bailing out after a fall or two and sipped hot chocolate instead.
He thinks she will ask why he’s there then if he can’t skate.
But Chiaki shrugs. “Neither can I.”
His brow quirks.
“Why are you here if you can’t skate?” he asks, not that he is in any position to question her on this.
“Mioda-san invited me,” explains Chiaki. She shields her eyes from the Sun and scans the ice rink. “Ah, but she’s not here yet. She said she would be here at two o’clock.”
“... It’s four.”
“Huh?” Chiaki clicks on some buttons on her game console and squints at the screen, leaning in. “Oh... That’s right. I changed the date and time on this so I could catch some rare fish.”
Hajime knows of Ibuki Mioda and also knows he would have spotted her neon hair by now or heard one of her famous rockstar howls if she was here. Chiaki casts her eyes toward the ice, where metal scrapes and bodies swish.
“Mioda-san will have gone by now, I think,” she mumbles.
He doesn’t reply. She looks at him now, still frowning, and he remembers he’s sitting conspicuously on the floor so he rises to his feet. His cheek stings, but otherwise, he’s alright despite the fall. Her head tilts back to fit his face into her vision, and as he comes to his full height, she smiles.
“In that case, how about we skate together?” she suggests. Hajime raises his eyebrows.
“Even though neither of us can skate?”
Her countenance hardens.
“Yep,” she says, but despite the intense look on her face, her tone remains light.
The way she stares at him makes him feel like she’s seeing underneath his skin. He can’t avert his gaze from her.
“If we look silly, we can look silly together... if that’s alright with you,” she says. Her head bobs, and after she blinks, she seems more sure of herself. “I don’t mind, but I would like us to skate together. It’s always more entertaining skating with other people, even if you’re no good at it... I think.”
He hesitates. She doesn’t relent.
“It’s more important to have fun than to be good at something,” she says, and he feels like something shifted in the pit of his stomach.
Before he can answer, the snow buzzes.
“Coconut head!” the snow snarls. “Are you there? What’s going on?”
They glance down. Though he can hear it, he can’t see the earpiece buried in the snow, but as he looks at Chiaki again, he doesn’t know what difference that would make to what he says next.
“Alright.” The corners of his lips curve up. “Let’s go.”
Chiaki’s face lights up. She takes his hand and the two go to rent some skates together, snow crunching underfoot as they walk. Once they’re laced up tight enough that their boots squeeze their feet, they tentatively inch onto the ice.
Hajime’s first step has him wobble, but feeling Chiaki strengthen her hold on his hand, he manages to steady himself.
“The first step is always scary,” she tells him. “But you can’t do a second or third step without it.”
He turns to Chiaki. While everyone else on the rink sloshes about, she stays by his side.
“I’m not scared,” he assures her. “Not with you here with me.”
Her face gives a quiver and she pinkens, and it’s not the cold. Though she tries, she can’t duck her head into her scarf to hide away like a turtle. She blows out her cheeks and bumps against him gently, not hard enough to knock him off balance, then carefully steps forward like the ice might crack if she’s too hasty.
It doesn’t, and she smiles at him.
“Let’s go, Hinata-kun,” she says.
He smiles back, and the two shuffle around the edge of the rink together.