Chapter Text
Message from the author:
Hello everyone, as I start this fic, I want to point out that this will be an AFAB non-binary Kurapika fic. They will be competing in the women’s category due to this being what I have more experience with. I am an AFAB Non-binary figure skater and am using my own experiences to write this along with the bits of info I’ve learned about competitions from my coach, online, and Yuri on Ice.
That being said, if this makes you uncomfortable, please be kind and exit. Thank you for still popping in. I fully understand that this may not be everyone’s cup of tea.
Also, this will be my replacement for skating while I am on strict no skate orders from my doctor due to a concussion…I got it while fucking up a jump.
Qualifying round: A single round before the “Short program” to determine the skaters in the main competition.
Kurpaika couldn’t hear what their coach Izunavi had said. He was on the phone arguing with someone. Clearly, he was livid. The music and the crowd had been far too loud for them to pick out any solid details. They’ve also busied themself with staying warmed up. So what if Chrollo had missed the warm-up earlier. He had more experience than Kurapika. They knew he’d be fine without a warm-up. Chrollo was always at his best.
Basie and Basho bowed, facing the judges, then turned to bow towards the other side of the rink, the audience. They are rink mates to Kurapika and Chrollo back in Yorknew. Roses and plush animals rain down from the stand, and young starry-eyed skaters quickly collect the trinkets and prizes.
Kurapika felt an anxious itch on their forearm, and it took everything they had to not rip off their black mesh gloves, peel back their sleeve, and run their nails over the irritation. They didn’t, they couldn’t, Chrollo would be there any second. Kurapika needed to be ready. Kurapika stepped over to the door leading to the ice and ignored Izunavi’s panicked shouts. They removed their scarlet hard guards from their skates and stepped onto the ice before their coach could stop them.
“Just be prepared and ready.” Chrollo’s voice whispered.
Kurapika practiced jerking their left shoulder back and crossing their arms tightly against their chest, then snapping back out into the landing position. Kurapika's right leg supported their weight, a slight bend to the knee, left leg back and straight, with the left hip slightly lifted, and arms stretched out at either side.
The announcer stalled overhead, jarring and obvious enough that Kurapika glanced up to the large screen across from them. Cameras had focused on Baise and Basho, seated together while scores are calculated. Both of them schooled their faces into indifference. It was easier to hide disappointment if one already looked nonplussed.
“Baize and Basho have earned, in the free skate, one-hundred-and-thirteen-point-eighty nine points. They’re currently in first place with a combined total of—“ Kurapika forced themself not to listen as the bubbly announcer Coco recited the other duo’s final score.
Kurapika still saw the final score projected on the massive screens around the rink. Along with Basie and Basho’s reactions from the flamboyantly decorated Kiss and Cry booth they’re seated at. Both of them had jumped up and hugged one another. Baize cried tears of excitement. Basho pecked her forehead lightly.
181.75, flashed overhead and moved up to the first place marker.
Kurapika realized as they stared up at the numbers, “Chrollo and I can easily pass them.” Kurapika’s heart raced with determination. Their first Grand Prix, and they would be able to bring home the gold!
“Oh, uh folks, we apologize for the delay,” Coco declared, “however we need all skaters off the ice.” She sounded off .
Kurapika wrinkled their nose, annoyed. Izunavi thrust Kurapiak’s hard guards at them from over the boards. They scrambled to get the guards over their blades and finally looked up and saw the furious expression on Izunavi’s face.
“W-what happened?” Kurapika looked around. They realized two things.
First, Chrollo still wasn’t there. Second, nearly everyone crowded into the small area behind the boards looked at Kurapika with either pity or hungry and inspired eyes.
Izunavi tossed Kurapika’s team jacket over their head.
He took hold of their forearm with a stone-like grip and began to steer them away from the ice and towards the locker room. Kurapika yanked their arm away from his grasp and threw the jacket onto the ground. “What the hell is going on!?” Kurapika demanded. There’s a bright flash, and Kurapika flinched at the sudden burst of light. Izunavi cussed at the man with the camera and placed his hand between the teenager and the lens. “Izunavi!”
It was then that Kurapika realized, finally, that the Zamboni had begun to resurface the ice.
Slowly, Kurapika turned back and looked up at the jumbotron and saw the rankings from the Grand Prix Final. They and Chrollo were dead last.
Kurapika pointed up at the display and shook their head in defiance. “What is the meaning of this!?” Kurapika roared.
Izunavi sighed, and more cameras flashed around the two of them. Kurapika kept their gaze on their coach as he knelt down and picked up their coat from the concrete floor, and passed it to them again. As Kurapika reached for the jacket, Izunavi leaned in and spoke firmly beside Kurpaika’s ear to be sure they could hear him. “He’s not coming.”
Kurapika was taken aback. “Not coming?”
“Chrollo isn’t coming,” Izunavi confirmed as he stepped away, “He withdrew this afternoon. From the competition, as your partner, and from pair skating. It’s over.”
Kurapika went numb and slowly pulled the jacket on. They felt bare and naked, too exposed to the world dressed only in beaded Lycra and chiffon mesh. Kurapika shoved past their coach as they tugged the jacket’s hood up over their slicked-back blonde locks. For the first time in thirteen years, Kurapika felt cold beside the ice. Izunavi’s hand fell between their shoulder blades, and he led them away from the prying vulture-like reporters.
Once they were away from the ice, Kurapika broke out in a run, their guards clicking in tandem with their hurried steps on the concrete.
They didn’t care which bathroom they went into. Kurapika threw themself past the door and then into the first stall they could find. Kurapika shredded the end of their sleeve as they tore off the matching mesh gloves and threw them at the ground. To hell with the makeup that Kurapika had painstakingly applied earlier. They pulled the false eyelashes off and rubbed at their eyes with bruising pressure until their frustrated tears mixed with the thick, inky blacks and blues of their makeup.
After a few moments, Kurapika let their head fall back against the brick wall as they slowly slid to the floor and curled up in a small ball. Every failed jump, each fall, all of their blood, sweat, and tears, meant nothing now. Kurapika’s right side throbbed with a deep ache, intense enough to falter their breathing.
The pain was a sudden reminder of the promise Kurapika made. A contract with themself. Just once, win gold for Pairo.
Kurpaika composed themself, their breath uneven and ragged as it fanned over their knees. They sniffled and reached for the toilet paper to wipe their nose and sobbed silently into the wad of tissue.
No more tears.
Chrollo was going to pay for this. He had just single-handedly stolen Kurapika’s chance for gold and their opportunity to see the promise through.
“I can do it myself. I do not need Chrollo .”
Kurapika stood and staggered out of the stall and to the sink. The whites of Kurapika’s eyes had turned a vicious red from their earlier abuse.
Izunavi dutifully waited for Kurapika just outside the bathroom door. “Well, are you done with the pity party?”
“I am,” Kurapika replied as they met Izunavi’s gaze. “Next season—“
“Hold on, wait, don’t worry about that right now,” Izunavi tried to advise, but Kurapika began to walk past him, their shoulder checked against his upper arm.
“I will also be skating in the single bracket,” Kurapika announced firmly. They pressed their left hand to their right side. With the hope that the pressure would alleviate the pain, instead, it flared even more, like a flower opening its petals wide. Kurapika kept their face neutral as Izunavi began to lecture them, but everything their coach said turned to white noise.
“I’ve made my decision, even if it means that next year is my last season. I will make it back here on my own.”