Archive of Our Own ^beta

Heizou was three when he first laid eyes on an ice rink.

At the time, all things considered, he had been far too young to be skating. But given that his father owned the rink, he found himself being carried into the building and held in the sidelines by his father, where they watched his mother and older brother glide around the arena hand in hand.

"You're getting the hang of it," his mother praised. "Soon, you'll be zipping around without me."

"One step closer to following my footsteps," his father remarked.

"Or mine," his mother cut in.

Heizou's brother lifted his arms. "I wanna play hockey like dad!"

Heizou could feel his father swell with pride. "I just need to convince Hei-kun then."

"Ah, Hei-kun." Heizou's mother smiled warmly at him. "Would you like to skate around with me? I'll carry you."

Like the curious toddler he was, Heizou nodded.

"Alright, come here then."

He was handed across the gate. His mother kissed his forehead before securing him in her arms and taking off. And as his mother glided across the rink, cradling him as though he were the most prized jewel in the world, the icy wind against his face and the sound of ice scraping against her blades ringing in his ears, Heizou felt…weightless, unburdened. A calm akin to the eye of the storm.

He didn't know it then, but that would end up being one of the last memories he would have of his mother. The next time he visited the rink, he was dressed in all black, hand clasped in his brother's as their father laid flowers down in the center of the rink, tears freezing against his cheeks as he mourned the love of his life.

"Although you may be gone, my dearest, your brilliance shall forever be frozen in our hearts."

Back then, not even the cold had been enough to numb their family's pain. But time soon came to pass, and before long, Heizou's father was making motions to reopen the rink.

One day, as he busied himself with his employees, an extremely bored Heizou swiped a pair of children's skates off the rental rack and made his way into the arena, where both polished ice and the memory of freedom laid in wait.

By the time his father noticed he had gone missing and stumbled into the arena to search for him, Heizou had already managed to glide around in squiggly, but recognizable circles, arms raised the same way he remembered his mother doing when she was still alive.

"A prodigy," his father's friends all called him. "Perhaps even with talents inherited from his mother!"

"Heizou," his father said once the skates had been returned and the ice polished once more. "Would you like to learn to skate like your mother?"

And as most children who wanted to cling onto the last links they had to their late mother would have done, Heizou nodded.

The next decade-plus of his life was spent just doing that. He learned how to start and stop, move this way and that way, go forward and back, hop, skip, turn, how to jump and land, how to spin with absolute precision and elegance, all while wearing a smile on his face.

When he won the very first competition he entered and found his name posted in local headlines the day after, he knew that, just as water did in the freezing cold, he had solidified a career for himself. Of course, his father took extreme pride in it all: two brilliant children—one a decent hockey player, the other a rising figure skater—each going down a path their parents once had.

"My Hei-kun has a very promising future ahead of him," the man said while squeezing Heizou's shoulder after a string of competition triumphs. "I know my wife would be proud of him."

Heizou had to admit, at the start, the attention had been nice. He got to travel to places he had never seen before, meet new people, and try out new foods. But the more medals, ribbons, and trophies he won, the more costumes and skates he replaced, the more he had to remind himself to smile through it all—the more he wondered if this was the dreamworld his mother would have wanted to live within.

It wasn't until he was much older that he finally understood. His mother had skated out of love. Whenever she pulled up her hair, sharpened her blades, and stepped onto the ice, she was doing it out of love. And with each jump, glide, and spin she performed, she fell deeper and deeper in love with it all.

Heizou too, began skating out of love—specifically, love for his mother, a retired-figure skater, cruelly taken from his life at such a young age. But unlike what the romanticists said, love was not the strongest feeling in the world. There was something else that had slowly been seeping its poison into Heizou from the moment he had stolen those skates and stepped foot onto his father's ice rink.

Fear.

Fear of disappointing his father. Fear of dishonoring his mother's memory. Fear of being seen as a fluke in the eyes of the world. Fear of a life without the one thing he was good at doing, the very air that always filled his lungs and kept putting food on his table. Fear of a world without skating, where he would no longer feel any love nor hate.

Fear was the reason why he could not stop. And so fear became the reason why he kept skating.

Despite being a two-time world champion with a rigorous training regime at barely twenty years of age, Heizou was still tied down by obligations to his family's skating arena.

"Your brother can handle the front-facing services on his own," his father said. "We cannot have the paparazzi swarming you all day when there are customers to serve."

Oh, what a relief that is, Heizou thought as he sat in the stands, eyes narrowing at the freshly polished ice. But I'd much rather help people rent horribly-made skates instead of observing the field.

To be fair, it was something his coach had asked him to do. Something-something "observing the failures of a newcomer can shed light on your own inadequacies" something-something "help with the routine." (He had to admit that he'd only been half-listening at the time.) And since they were short-staffed during the beginner group skating lessons session, here Heizou was, hitting two birds with one stone.

But he was watching everything but their skating abilities.

Of the twelve here, at least nine come from semi-affluent backgrounds. As expected. After all, the old man raised the price of admission the second the media found out my surname's attached to this place. He crossed his arms. Of those nine, a third will drop out today after blaming the instructor for their own shortcomings, and the remaining will stubbornly continue to perfect an improperly-learned technique. He leaned back against the bench. Madame Kujou should really reconsider her coaching style. I fail to see how I can learn anything from a bunch of spoiled brats.

With three hand claps, the instructor skated onto the rink and began the class.

Ah, backwards skating. Let's see who cries first.

As he predicted, a girl in all red was the first to tumble on the ice, shrieking loudly as she did.

She should be grateful her hair bun saved her neck.

One by one, they all fell like dominos. And Heizou, who should have felt sympathy given he once too had been a newbie slipping and sliding onto his face, hands, and tush, watched with a completely cold look on his face.

As expected, based on their technique. He sighed. I don't know why Madame Kujou wanted me to do this, all I see are things I already know and can do.

"Oh, wonderful! Look at that, you were so close!"

A maroon eyebrow rose when the instructor clapped at a light-haired boy who had fallen onto the ice.

"Everyone, come on, you can do it. Just remember—focus, focus, focus!"

The light-haired boy stood up, inhaling slowly before starting once again.

He's not the best. Far from it. But even from afar, Heizou could see it: the glint of the skates against the arena lights. The trails of shaved ice falling in his wake as he curved around the bend. The way he held his arms out to balance and shifted his weight to compensate for his lack of control.

Ah. Heizou's lip twitched. Perhaps Madame Kujou knows something about coaching after all.

The locker room was, as expected, mostly vacant by the time Heizou stepped inside. He played with the zipper of his staff jacket, an idle behavior to keep his mind busy as he scoured the rows and benches in search for a familiar face.

The light-haired boy was in the back, pulling a cardigan over his shoulders.

"Where did you learn that?" Heizou asked before he could even think about giving a greeting like a normal person.

The boy turned.

"I…I beg pardon?"

"This." Heizou held out his arms the same way the other had done earlier when making his turns. "They don't teach that here."

"Is…that unusual?"

"For a beginner, yeah." Heizou dropped his arms. "You have good balance."

"…Thank you."

"What's your name?"

The boy blinked slowly.

"Kazuha."

"Kazuha." It rolled off Heizou's tongue as smoothly as his finest blades against the ice. "When did you start skating?"

"A few months ago."

It certainly looks like it.

"Do you take private lessons?"

Kazuha laughed wryly. "It's not exactly in my budget…"

"Shame." Heizou eyed the boy's figure. "There's potential in you."

"I…" Kazuha coughed into his fist. "It's an honor hearing that from you, Shikanoin-san."

So he does recognize me.

"You wanna get better, yeah? Not pro-level, but better, right?"

Kazuha nodded. Heizou hummed.

"Alright, it's decided. Come by after the public session this Friday night. I can give you some pointers."

"…Huh?"

"You won't get as far as you want with just the group instructor." Heizou turned and held up his hand. "If you're interested, I'll be waiting. Unlike my old man, I'm not going to overcharge you for good feedback."

When he left the locker room, he immediately beelined for an empty hallway and buried his head in his hands.

Man alive, what has gotten into me?

Friday nights were usually reserved for open skate or private hockey practice sessions. When the rink was finally cleared of people and the facilities cleaned, Heizou changed into his skates, slapped on the guards, and walked out into the lobby.

Despite having already anticipated the outcome, he was still mildly surprised to see Kazuha waiting with a pair of white skates in hand.

"You picked a decent brand," Heizou said, because again, he could not bring himself to be normal and say hello.

"They were recommended by a friend," Kazuha answered.

"Hm. Better thank them." Heizou waved his hand. "Come on. Let's get those bad boys on and see what you've got."

Kazuha trailed after him like a little puppy.

"It's empty," he finally remarked after tying up his laces. "The rink, I mean."

"Well, I'd hope so, we're closed to the public at this hour."

"Aren't I the public?"

Heizou shook his head. "My old man lets me use this place after hours for extra practice time." He took his guards off and stepped onto the ice. "I think you could use it more though."

Kazuha's hand tightened on the wall. "Really?"

"Did I stutter?" Heizou cocked his head. "Why so shy? Come on, get on the ice. You've done it before."

"My apologies. It's simply…nerve-racking with you here."

"I was there during your lesson and you were just fine. Could have done better though."

Heizou blinked when he realized Kazuha was now right in front of him.

"In what way, may I ask?"

Heizou snorted. "We'll get to that, I'm sure of it." He waved his arm. "Come on. Show me what you've got."

Kazuha was very clearly an amateur. But, as Heizou had noted days before and was reiterating to the boy's face once again, he had good coordination and balance.

And a flair for the dramatics. Heizou skated alongside Kazuha, effortlessly propelling himself across the ice as Kazuha wobbled slightly on a singular foot.

"You'll be the ace of the class at this rate," Heizou remarked when an hour had passed. "You're not due to learn some of this stuff for another three weeks."

"Such a shame." Kazuha brushed his bangs from his face. "Thank you."

Heizou waved his hand. "Don't sweat it."

"My apologies for being frank, but I wasn't expecting someone of your caliber to be willing to teach a newcomer. Don't you have the upcoming season to prepare for?"

The twinkling of a thousand lights flashed through his mind.

"I'm Shikanoin Heizou." He smiled. "I'll be alright."

Training sessions at this time of year were always hell.

"Alright, that's enough of that." Kujou Sara glided across the ice to meet her student. "Let's have a real talk now."

Dreadful words to hear.

Heizou put his hands on his hips.

"Are you implying we have fake talks now?"

"Amusing." Sara raised her clipboard. "I want to talk about this season. In regards to your programs, what we have isn't enough."

"It gets all the points if I do them right."

"Outside of points, I mean. You're missing something here." She tapped her pen on the board. "On the technical side, I know this will be fine for you, but everything else? Flow, execution, demeanor, storytelling…" She shook her head. "We need something fresh. Something to keep you in the headlines but still push you to even higher limits."

Even higher, huh?

"My old suggestion of a mystery show still stands."

"You're not twelve anymore," Sara snapped. "I'm not entertaining such things. Have you seen what Liyue and Sumeru have up their sleeves this year? Your title could easily be threatened by any one of their stars."

Now where have I heard that before?

"I'm aware."

"Have you done what I asked? Observing beginner skaters, I mean."

Heizou thought about a boy with light hair and even lighter skates.

"Sort of."

"Well? What have you observed?"

"I'm better than them."

Heizou winced when Sara thumped the back of his head.

"If you weren't such a good skater," she muttered.

"Well, the short program is easy enough, yeah? I just need to rearrange and tweak how I go between things."

"And your free program?"

Heizou was silent.

"You can't be serious." She pressed a finger to her temple. "Do you even have a song in mind?"

"You know me. Classical with a violin melody." The same kind of music my mother liked.

"Alright, I'll figure out something. But you will need to do legwork of your own." She made a note on her clipboard. "I mean it."

You always do, Madame Kujou, Heizou thought hours after practice, when he was alone in his room, staring up at the listless ceiling. Must be a nice ability to have.

After group beginner lessons had concluded, Heizou entered the locker room.

"You've improved."

Kazuha lifted his head.

"Shikanoin-san." He smiled softly. "Your pointers were very helpful."

Heizou's gaze darted between Kazuha's face and his skates.

"Are you free again this Friday?"

"Perhaps."

"We could do a repeat."

Kazuha stared at him for a moment.

"I am but a lowly hobbyist. I wouldn't want to impose on your precious time," he finally said.

"We need something fresh." Sara's voice resounded throughout his mind.

"Even professionals need to keep up with the basics."

Kazuha hummed. "What's the cost?"

"Only an hour of your time."

"I cannot do that."

"I can."

Kazuha hummed again.

"After close?"

"Get here five minutes before that."

"Alright then."

Friday night came once more, as did Kazuha and his pearly white skates. Heizou stood on the center of the ice, arms crossed as he scrutinized every inch of Kazuha's body—the way he bent his knees, twisted his torso, shifted his weight, turned his feet—every last minute detail dissected, examined, then put back together again, as though he were a clue in a grand mystery straight out of a detective novel…or a crime show.

"It'll feel worse tomorrow," Heizou said when Kazuha finally collapsed on the ice, incomprehensibly worn and aching. "Get plenty of rest and roll your muscles out."

"Is this what you felt when you were in my shoes?" Kazuha asked.

"Pretty sure you have bigger feet than me."

"Metaphorically speaking. Even you were a beginner at one point."

Heizou snickered. "You've read up about me, haven't you? The interviews will tell you all you need to know."

"I'd much prefer obtaining an answer from the source itself."

Heizou pursed his lips.

"I was much more of a brat about it, being under ten and all," he finally admitted.

Kazuha's lips broke into a wide grin. "If only that brat could see you now, landing triples and quads with minimal effort."

"I use some effort."

"You masquerade it well."

The sound of metal against ice filled the air. Kazuha lifted his head in time to see Heizou ease into a stop so he was crouched beside him.

"Have you ever seen a figure skating competition in person?"

Kazuha blinked slowly.

"Yes."

"Have you seen me compete in person?"

"I'm afraid not."

"How would you say I am when I don't have a camera on me?"

"More or less the same."

Same?

"Oh? How are you so sure?"

"You talk the way you skate." Kazuha shrugged. "Intelligent, observant, and articulate."

…Really?

"Experienced eyes would beg to differ." Heizou smiled. "I'll give you two more years to take that back. Experience takes time, after all, and unlike me, you have that on your side, hobbyist-kun."

Kazuha leaned forward. "And what if I said I wanted to catch up to you someday?"

"Would you like to learn to skate like your mother?"

Heizou snorted. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves."

I'm not the kind of skater you want to be anyways.

Kazuha returned every week after that, his still new-ish skates in one hand and, on occasion, a gift in the other.

"You refuse monetary payment," Kazuha justified as he handed over a new treat—today it was a box of foreign chocolates, likely alcoholic, judging by the images printed on the lid.

"Keep this up and I might start charging you real money." But Heizou accepted the box regardless. Nii-san would like these.

Kazuha had improved considerably since the first time Heizou had seen him on the ice.

"You might be ready for jumps soon. Though we'd have to go somewhere else to train for that."

"We would?"

"Have you ever been to a trampoline park?"

Kazuha shook his head.

"It'll be fun."

"Should I be scared?" But Kazuha laughed regardless.

The hour came and went, bringing them to the bench outside of the rink.

"How have your practices been?"

Heizou tilted his head. "In what way?"

"You're training for qualifiers, are you not?"

"You say that as if you're worried about me doing poorly."

"Of course not," Kazuha interjected quickly. "If anything, I have complete faith in your skills, and am looking forward to seeing you maintain your title of champion."

Right. Champion.

"My oh my," Heizou snorted. "Have some more faith in Sumeru's rising stars at least!"

"I'm sure they're good. But they aren't you."

A knot rolled over in Heizou's stomach.

"I'm not undefeatable, Kazuha."

"You are not," Kazuha agreed. "But you are a wonderful skater. I have faith in you."

Those words should have been a pleasure to hear, comfort to his ears, a soothe to his ache. But instead, Heizou felt his stomach drop.

If only I was actually as wonderful as your imagination makes me out to be.

The instant he struck his last pose, the music was shut off.

"It'll work for now," Sara said. "Watch that second axel though, I saw where your ankle went."

"Yeah, I know I messed that one up." Heizou lowered his arms. "Is that your only critique?"

"More or less. You know what you need to do." Sara lowered her clipboard. "You got my mail about your schedule and travel accommodations, yes?"

"Starred and screenshotted."

"Good."

Heizou shook out his arms, discarding the remaining threads of adrenaline in his veins. Just a few more days and this'll all be behind me…

"Heizou."

He lifted his head. "Yes?"

Sara stared at him for a moment. Then golden eyes darted away.

"We should call it here for today. I don't want to wear you out so much before departure."

"How considerate."

"Eat something, okay? Contrary to popular belief, you'll still fit in your costume if you have at least two meals a day."

Heizou's lip twitched.

"I'm not worried about the costume, Madame Kujou."

She sighed. "Go home and have an honest to good meal."

"…Yes Madame Kujou."

"I'll be away for the next two weeks."

Kazuha hummed. "For qualifiers, yes? I wish you luck."

"I don't believe in luck."

"Everyone could use a bit of luck, especially during important occasions."

"I trust you believe in fate and destiny as well then?"

Kazuha smiled. "Of course."

"Should have known." Heizou shook his head. "Well, next time you want to wish me luck, maybe disguise it with a poem so it's not wasted on someone like me."

"My wishes for you are not a waste, and I am hurt you would even regard them as such."

"That's not what I meant."

"Oh, I'm aware. I am merely speaking as someone who is not reading between the lines you put out." Kazuha perked up. "Actually, I figured that I wouldn't see you for a bit due to qualifiers, so…"

Heizou frowned. "What?"

Kazuha beckoned him over. When Heizou skated up to him, the boy held out his hand. Heizou placed his hand atop the other's, eyebrows furrowing at the joy now sparking beneath Kazuha's eyes.

"Here." His free hand moved over Heizou's, depositing something on his palm.

A…keychain? Heizou held up the trinket and shook it. The small plush deer jingled back at him.

"Are you making fun of my surname?"

"I thought it was cute." Kazuha nudged the deer's hooves—or rather, the skates occupying the space where its hooves should have been. "It even skates like you."

Heizou stared at the plush—its derpy face, the bells attached to its antlers, and its crooked legs and the skates attached to them. Then he knelt down and slid it across the ice. Red and green eyes watched as the plush flopped onto its side and spun around as it slid to a halt a good five centimeters away.

"I think I can skate better than that," Heizou finally said.

"It's still cute!"

"Uh huh."

But despite the ridiculousness and pointlessness of it all, Heizou found himself smiling just a little bit.

This year, qualifiers were taking place in Fontaine.

Lovely place, Heizou thought, ignoring the pretentious atmosphere, that is.

At least the rink was rather nice. The locker rooms smelled like roses instead of sweat too—a pleasant surprise indeed.

"Things will be rather interesting," Sara remarked after performing an initial inspection. "I think you'll enjoy things out here."

Sure I will, Heizou thought sarcastically as he and the rest of the Inazuman team sat through various logistical meetings and discussions and practice session after session.

"These meetings are rather slow," one female solo skater sighed.

"It'll be over soon enough," a man from the pairs division—ah, it was the elder of the Kamisato-sibling duo, likely here with the hopes of performing his best with his sister by his side—assured. "Think of this as the last major barrier to more medals coming our way."

Heizou didn't need to look to know that everyone's eyes were on him after that quip.

"Next up in men's single skating," the announcer said, "Heizou Shikanoin from Inazuma!"

Sara nodded. "Go on."

Heizou took a deep breath, then stepped onto the rink. The familiar feeling of ice beneath his blades was the closest he had to reassurance—a grounding sort of motion that kept his eyes off the blinding lights, his mind off the thousands of people gazing down at him, and stoppered the bile threatening to crawl up his throat.

Just like before. He slid to a stop, closing his eyes and letting out a sharp breath as he did. Just like dress rehearsal, and every single practice session and false smile you've put on in the years before…you can do that much, can't you?

When he opened his eyes, the memory of a goofy deer keychain, soft white-blond locks, and rosy red eyes smiled back at him.

"I wish you luck."

The music began, and Heizou took off.

The afterparty was in full swing by the time he arrived.

"Glad to see you out of your room!" a coach he had spoken to maybe three times in his life remarked.

"It's nice of you to join us, Shikanoin-san," the younger Kamisato—Ayaka, he recalled with utmost clarity—greeted with a smile. "Would you like a drink?"

"Just water's fine for now," Heizou responded. She nodded and turned towards the bar, hand raised at the bartender.

"Oh, if it isn't Heizou!" A melodic laugh filled his ears. "How wonderful it is to see you here today!"

"Oh, Coach Venti, hello."

"Ah, he remembers me! Congrats on first! And wonderful taste in music, as usual."

"Thanks and I know."

"Shikanoin-san, your drink."

"Thank you, Kamisato-san."

"Of course. Congratulations on your performance."

"Thank you. You as well."

But as almost every afterparty did, the loud music, boisterous laughter, and lack of respect for personal space crowded Heizou's mind and frayed his nerves. So while the rest of the group were preoccupied with guzzling drinks, stacking cards, and howling into karaoke microphones, Heizou slipped into the stairwell and climbed until he reached a balcony on one of the upper floors.

He quickly discovered that he was not the only one who had decided to escape the crowd, given that there was a person leaning against the railing, a book in one hand and a glass of wine in the other.

Ah. One of the new Sumeru guys. Alhaitham, if I heard correctly? Heizou hummed in thought. Good power, but could have used some more finesse—the opposite of his fellow teammate…

"Not much for parties, are you?"

Silence.

"Words too, it seems."

The gray-haired skater looked up from his book.

"Would you like me to congratulate you on first place?"

"I'm not fishing for compliments, just trying to make small talk." Heizou took a sip of his champagne, grimacing at the flavor. Still tastes disgusting. Why do I even try?

"I'm sure the Inazuma team would like to see you."

"They're drunk and loud and troublesome. So I left."

Intriguingly, Alhaitham's lip curled upward. "It appears they're quite similar to the Sumeru team."

"You don't say." Heizou held up his glass. "To peace and quiet?"

To his delight, Alhaitham raised his glass. They clinked their drinks and took a sip.

"Your performance was certainly striking," Heizou remarked. "It's almost as if every move you made was calculated to the very last angle and degree."

"Analyzing the competition, are you now?"

"Just stating a fact."

Alhaitham's eyes flickered over him.

"Your skill is exceptional. First place was rightfully awarded to you."

Based on his tone, Heizou knew that the other was being more generous than ordinary. "You flatter me. But don't sell yourself short."

Alhaitham grunted and returned to his book. Heizou tapped on his champagne glass.

"This is your first time at qualifiers, if I recall."

No answer, save for a slight tilt of the head.

"Do you mind telling me what made you pursue competitive skating?"

"…My grandmother."

"Is she also a skater?"

He shook his head. "She believed in me."

Believed. Past tense.

"I'm sure she'd be proud of you."

"It matters not what a dead woman thinks." His expression was the same—stoic, unmoving—but as a fellow victim of loss, Heizou understood his words to be a lie. "What matters is I did what I told her I'd do."

I highly doubt landing in eighth place is something you'd promise your grandmother to achieve, especially if she's such an influential figure in your athletic career. Heizou rubbed the mouth of his glass. No, there's something else to it. Something simpler…

"Congratulations on making it to qualifiers, then." Heizou tilted his glass. "For your grandmother."

Turquoise eyes raised to meet with his own for a moment before returning to the book.

"What's the plan now? Try and beat your fellow teammate?" Heizou waved his hand. "The one dressed like a bird, not whoever the other simpleton was."

Heizou noticed the other man clench his jaw.

"I suppose that's the next logical step."

"Oh?"

"…I have to get better, or else he'll never shut up about it."

Flashes of gold passed through Heizou's mind. A blond in the most vibrant of colors, sparkling underneath the lights, thriving off the attention of a million unknown eyes upon him as he narrated a story of loss and regret.

Oh. I see now. Heizou pursed his lips. How nice it must be to have a proper rival that can help stoke the flames of passion in your otherwise ambitionless heart…

"It's only your first qualifier." Heizou raised his glass to his lips. "You'll have plenty more chances to outskate him."

The champagne's flavor matched the bitterness swirling in his chest.

Kazuha was waiting for him in the lobby, as he always did nearly every Friday night.

"I believe congratulations are in order," he greeted.

"You didn't secretly fly out to Fontaine to watch me live, did you?" Heizou yawned after he asked. Damned jetlag.

"If I could afford it, I would." Kazuha laughed. "I had a watch party with some friends at home. Seeing you win first in singles and the Kamisatos score second for pairs was wonderful."

"Oh? Fans of Ayato-san and Ayaka-san, I take it?"

Kazuha smiled sheepishly. "Well, I'd hope so. They are family friends."

Family friends. Friends. With…the Kamisatos?

"Oh." Heizou eyed Kazuha. "I wasn't aware."

"I tend to avoid advertising it."

"I'm guessing they're the friends who picked your skates then?"

Kazuha's smile was the only answer he needed.

Well, that explains a lot.

"And here I was hoping that I was your sole inspiration for wanting to hit the ice," Heizou teased. "But that's alright, when it comes to Ayato-san's refined elegance and Ayaka-san's graceful dance, I suppose measly old me just pales in comparison…" He let out a snort when Kazuha suddenly pushed his arm, lips pursed and cheeks flaring with embarrassment.

"They are my introduction to ice skating, yes," Kazuha admitted, "but you are very much the one who fueled me to pursue it."

Oh. Heizou swallowed. He knows I was joking, right? There's no way that I'm good enough for…

"It's the same for you, is it not?" Kazuha tilted his head. "You always say you began skating because your mother introduced you to it. But that's not why you continue to skate, correct?"

Heizou's breath stopped at his lips.

Why I continue to..?

"I can see it in the way you move. You've evolved past a boy honoring his late-mother." Kazuha hummed. "But as for the nature of that evolution, I cannot find the right words to describe it…"

"You can think about it after your lesson." Heizou crossed his arms. "Come on, strap on those fancy Kamisato-sponsored skates and show me what you've got. You have been practicing even during my absence, have you not?

"Ah." Kazuha sighed. "Strict Shikanoin-sensei has returned."

"Damn right I have. Now move it!"

"Have you decided what to perform for the exhibition gala?"

Heizou nearly choked on his water. "The what?"

Sara looked unamused. "The exhibition skate that happens at the end of every world competition. You are the reigning champion too, so your participation is mandatory."

Heizou swore mentally.

"Shame, I was thinking of bailing."

"I'm being serious."

"So am I, Madame Kujou."

Sara pressed a finger to her temple. "Why do I even bother with you…"

"Well." Heizou leaned against the railing. "Maybe we could consider doing little ol' twelve-year-old me's mystery show?"

To his surprise, she heaved a heavy sigh. "Alright, if that's what you want, then who am I to stand in your way?"

"…That's it?" That easy?

Sara shrugged. "We already planned the basic choreography. I suppose we could tweak it so it works with your vision."

"Oh." Heizou blinked. I was expecting to be fighting her over this for much longer.

"Heizou," she said, as though reading his mind, "we have seen exhibition skates ranging from ridiculously long light novel titles to people twerking on ice. A mystery show is the least of my worries with you."

Ah. She's just confident in my abilities. Heizou's knuckles whitened as he gripped the railing. Madame Kujou, don't you feel that sometimes your trust in me is misguided? After all, I have been lying to you about my desire to skate for so long.

"I trust you'll fill me in on what you've come up with when we meet next?"

Heizou nodded.

"Alright." Sara scratched something onto her clipboard. "Okay, break's over. Back to it, from section three. Starting the music in ten, nine, eight…"

Worlds were being held in Inazuma this year.

How humorous. Heizou scrolled through the website, sighing at the familiar address. A repeat of the first time I made it to the big leagues, I guess. He tucked his phone into his pocket. How fitting would it be if I were to end that career back at the place where I started?

"You could have sent me a text," Heizou remarked at the boy walking through the door fifteen minutes after the appointed time.

Kazuha smiled sheepishly. "My apologies."

"You don't even have an excuse at the ready."

"There is none, I'm afraid." Kazuha bowed. "I'm tardy. I'm sorry."

Heizou gazed at him for a moment.

"I'm not that kind of coach. Get up, it's fine."

Kazuha lifted his head. "So it was a joke after all."

I'm just a joke in general, Kaedehara, Heizou thought.

"Shall we?" he said instead.

There was no doubt about it—Kazuha had definitely improved.

A mere hobbyist with that kind of grace and dexterity? Heizou watched as Kazuha landed the jump. Not to mention how fast he's picking up on everything… He hummed in approval at Kazuha's second attempt.

"A prodigy. Perhaps even with talents inherited from his mother!"

No. He shook his head. No, nothing like that. Not like me. Nothing like me. I don't want him to…

Kazuha stumbled, then crashed onto the ice.

"Ow," he muttered.

Heizou skidded to a stop beside him. "You alright?"

Kazuha nodded. "My ankle gave out on that one." He accepted Heizou's outstretched hand and allowed the other to help him up.

"Let's take five." Heizou caught Kazuha as he slipped on the ice. "...Maybe ten."

"I'm sorry."

Heizou let out a breathy laugh as he helped Kazuha onto the bench. "There's nothing for you to apologize for. Every skater's done the same thing you just did."

"Stumbled in front of a champion?"

Heizou pursed his lips. "Just the first part."

"I merely jest." Kazuha had a smile on his face.

"What are you thinking about that's so funny? Because that was not it."

"You."

Heizou frowned. "Is my face that ugly?"

"No, not that." Kazuha leaned back. "I'm thinking about little ten-year-old you pouting after taking a stumble on the ice."

Heizou stared at the other for a good long while.

"Why?"

"I'm sure you were cute." Kazuha chuckled into his hand. "Much cuter than me taking a stumble, at least."

"I'm not cute, dammit."

"No, you are." Kazuha hummed. "Now that I think about it, Ayato-san used to tell me stories about Thoma-san refusing to help him and his sister stand up after stumbling on the ice."

"Thoma?"

"The boy who taught them how to ice skate." Kazuha reached into his bag and pulled out his phone. After a few quick taps, he held up the device so Heizou could see a picture of Kazuha, Ayato, Ayaka, and an unknown blond boy in front of a tree in what he recognized to be the Ritou shopping district.

"You really are family friends, huh?" Heizou mused, noting how the photo appeared to have been taken at least five years ago, given the physical disparities between the Kazuha in the photo and the Kazuha sitting right next to him. Having friends must be nice, especially long-term ones.

"I try not to advertise it."

"You're doing nothing but that now."

Kazuha lowered his phone, an unreadable expression on his face.

"I wanted to learn of my own volition."

Heizou blinked. "...Huh?"

"Ice skating." Kazuha shrugged. "We could never afford it when I was younger. Things have gotten better since, but…" He gazed up at the lights shining down on the rink. "I thought I'd be too old to start trying. But you said something in an interview that made me change my mind."

"...I said something?"

"Right before you won." Kazuha was smiling again. "You said dreams only came to those who were willing to chase after them."

Heizou's unfortunately blessed memory suddenly graced him with a flashback to that time—it had been after qualifiers that year, when the newscrews caught up to him despite all attempts to duck into safety and he decided to throw out something that he knew the press would eat up.

You really believed in that bullshit line?

"Well, I suppose that's enough about me." Kazuha stretched his arms over his head. "Shall we try again?"

"Don't," Heizou said before Kazuha could even think about standing. "We're stopping here for today. The last thing we need is you being unable to walk."

"It's not that severe."

"It will be unless we stop." Heizou slid off the bench and crouched on the ground. "Give me your leg, I'll take your skates off."

Kazuha watched as Heizou loosened his laces.

"You are kinder than you give yourself credit for."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Heizou asked, carefully sliding the boot off Kazuha's injured foot.

"Your touch is as gentle as free-falling snow."

Heizou stared at Kazuha for a moment.

"Must you always liken me to poetry?"

"I cannot help it. You could say you're my muse in more ways than one."

Heizou tugged on Kazuha's laces. "Go use the Kamisatos as a muse sometimes then, don't just use me."

"I don't use you, Heizou. I'd never do such a thing to another person."

Heizou knew in his mind that Kazuha was being genuine. But as he pulled Kazuha's second skate off his foot, he felt a dark cavity of doubt widening in his chest.

"There." Heizou snapped Kazuha's guards onto the blades. "Can you walk?"

Kazuha stood. "I should be alright."

"Good."

Heizou sat back and pulled at his own laces. Kazuha watched as the skates came off one by one.

"You don't have to wait for me."

"I want to."

Heizou scoffed as he rose to a stand. "Weirdo."

"Why, thank you. I'm flattered."

Heizou felt his lips tugging upward.

"Worlds are being held in Inazuma," he found himself saying. "You should come."

"Those tickets are beyond my budget, Heizou. But rest assured, I will be watching."

Heizou shook his head. "Screw your budget. This one's on me."

"I…I can't just accept that."

"You will. I'm not taking no for an answer. I'll text you the details later."

"Well…" Kazuha chuckled into his fist. "Who am I to say no to you?"

Heizou's PR manager had never ever really liked him, but his father paid her decently, and she did her job fairly well.

"Late Night Inazuma—the talk show—has offered you a timeslot," Sango said. "Would be for next Friday night."

"No," Heizou answered. "I've already instructed you to turn down all interviews."

"I am aware of that, but Ryuji thought this was a good opportunity. I told him that it'd be a waste to ask, and clearly I was right."

"For once."

Heizou could hear Sango scoffing over the line. "Well, whenever you want to do your 'just appeasing daddy' interview or photoshoot, just let me know."

"The plan is to not do that this year."

"You say that every year, Shikanoin." Sango sighed. "Alright, well, I'll let you know if Arataki reaches out again so you can reprise your last performance."

"Please, anyone but him."

"Publicity is publicity."

"My answer is no by default."

"Of course. Bye bye now."

Heizou hung up with a huff.

She needs to stop treating me like a child. He gazed down at his hands. Then again, she's smart. She's probably seen right through me. After all, only a cowardly fool would keep on skating when they don't care about anything they can get out of it.

The last person Heizou expected to see at the supermarket was his pseudo-student.

"What are you staring at?" his brother asked before following his gaze. "Hei-kun, do you know them?"

Kazuha turned. Heizou looked away in an instant and fiddled with his beanie, hoping it did enough to camouflage him.

"What else did pops ask for?"

"Well…"

"Heizou."

Heizou whipped around, arm raised. Kazuha blinked back at him in surprise.

"A skater and a fighter? You're quite remarkable."

Heizou lowered his fist. "You scared me."

"My apologies." Kazuha beamed. "It's nice to see you outside the rink."

"…Hm."

"Do you have pressing matters to attend to? If not, perhaps we could grab lunch? My treat."

Before he could open his mouth, Heizou's brother cleared his throat. "Hei-kun's free." He smirked at his little brother. "Go on, have fun. Nii-san can finish grocery shopping just fine. Call when you're coming home."

"You—!" Heizou huffed as his brother wheeled the cart away, tearing down the aisle at record speed. Bastard.

"Your brother is quite the character."

"I think he's been smacked in the head too many times."

Kazuha laughed. "Then he must be very tough."

"Don't praise him, he doesn't deserve it." Neither do I.

Crimson eyes shimmered with amusement. "Alright, as you wish."

Kazuha took him to a cozy izakaya three train stops away from the grocery store.

"Welcome to Uyuu Restaurant," the waitress greeted. "Party of two?"

And so Heizou found himself sitting in front of Kazuha, fingers drumming on the menu.

"Do you follow a strict diet?" Kazuha asked. "My apologies if this place is not suitable if you do."

"It's fine. Madame Kujou does not torment me about my diet as long as I maintain good balance."

"Ah. I see."

"Why do you ask? Do the Kamisatos have a calorie requirement?"

"No, they're much like you. I was simply curious." Kazuha lowered his menu. "Have you decided?"

Heizou nodded. Kazuha pushed the call button.

Words were not exchanged again until after the waitress had come by to take their orders.

"How have you been?"

"…I saw you two days ago."

"It takes but a moment for the world to change."

Heizou fiddled with his jacket. "Fine. You?"

"Alright."

"Right."

Another awkward silence.

"Have you done anything other than practice for worlds?"

"Besides tutoring you? No."

"…That can't be healthy."

"It's fine. It's just how life as a champion is."

"Really? The interviews with your predecessors illustrated a different image."

"I don't do sponsorships."

"Not that." Kazuha waved his hand. "Having hobbies. You once said you liked reading mystery novels, am I right?"

"Haven't met one I couldn't solve early." Heizou rapidly shook his head. "Honestly, I don't have much free time this time of year. You caught me on a rare day off, if anything."

Kazuha gave Heizou a once over.

"And the off-season?"

"We own a family business."

"That's not a hobby."

"Well, what do you do then?"

"Hmmm…" Kazuha leaned back. "I take walks, go hiking, and write poetry."

"…That explains a lot about you."

"I do not help my father with his business every waking hour of the day."

"Please tell my old man that so I can get a real, Kaedehara-approved hobby then."

The waitress arrived with their food as Kazuha chuckled into his hand.

"I could repay you for lessons by helping you find a more fulfilling pastime," Kazuha suggested about three minutes into eating.

"Are my mystery novels not enough for you?"

"You don't seem fulfilled by them, considering you solve the mystery early every time."

"It's not my fault the answer is right there!"

"Are you interested in other physical activities?"

"I do enough physical activity as is."

"Hm, non-strenuous hobbies then. Are you a creative person?"

"Sara and I do my choreography."

"Painting? Writing? Photography?"

"Can't draw, I refuse to go back to high school literature class, and not my thing."

"Gaming?"

"I'm always knocked out in the first round at after-party tournaments."

"Knitting?"

"Kazuha."

Kazuha let out a long sigh.

"You cannot say I didn't try."

Heizou gazed down at his tempura, a knot suddenly forming in his stomach.

"You're right. I cannot."

Kazuha insisted on getting fresh air after eating, so Heizou let the boy drag him back onto the train and take him to a small park four stops between the restaurant and his route home. And so here Heizou was, perched on a swing made for children a third of his age, rocking back and forth and grimacing whenever the swing let out a too-loud creak.

"We're going to break this."

"My friend has sat in your spot before," Kazuha answered. "He is much taller than the both of us. I assure you, the swing was still intact when he was finished with it."

"How reassuring."

"I am not trying to insult you, you know."

"Oh, don't worry, I'm used to it." Heizou waved his hand. "I used to wear platform shoes in public back in junior high. That's the lowest I've ever gotten about it."

"…Platform shoes?"

"Oh yeah." Heizou laughed. "They only gave me three centimeters, but I cherished them all the same."

"That's…" Kazuha's hand was over his mouth, stifling his laugh. "First it's ten-year-old Heizou pouting whenever he stumbled on the ice, and now junior-high Heizou wearing platform shoes to gain three centimeters…" He wiped his eyes. "You are quite the character, Heizou."

Heizou rolled his eyes. "Oh, please. Don't tell me you didn't do embarrassing things as a kid."

"Well, of course I did."

"Oh yeah? Tell me."

"What?"

"C'mon, I won't tell."

"Well…"

"I shared my stupid platformers, the least you can do is accompany me in embarrassment."

"Oh, alright." Kazuha sighed and leaned back on his swing. "When I was young, I mistook my father's wine for fruit juice. He later found me sleeping in the garden, hugging one of our ornamental swords. Apparently I thought I was going to my room for a nap with a toy fox."

Heizou blinked once. Twice. Three times.

"Cute."

The words were out of his mouth before he could stop himself.

"Well, I suppose I must have looked adorable." Kazuha shook his head. "But getting drunk at age five is not an experience I recommend."

"I don't recommend it for adults either."

Kazuha laughed. "Can't hold your liquor?"

"I can't stand the liquor half the time."

"You'd be a terrible businessman."

"My problem with authority already makes me a horrible businessman."

"And yet you made being judged on technical performance your career?"

…Ah.

"Ironic, is it not?"

"Indeed." Kazuha hummed, legs scraping against the ground as he swung back and forth on his too-small swing. "I am happy you are skating though."

Heizou tilted his head. "Why do you say that?"

"Because if you hadn't chosen to honor your mother by skating, then I wouldn't have become your fan, pursued my dream, and wind up here talking to you."

Heizou stared at Kazuha for a while. The blond was looking at the horizon, a content smile plastered to his face.

Honoring my mother. Right. Heizou bit his lip. That is why I skate. That is why I…am here. That is why I have no hobbies, no friends, and no aspirations other than to quit the only thing keeping me from living a life filled with absolute nothingness. That is why…

"I hope the poems you write are better than the sentences you say out loud." And the second he said that, he wanted to smack himself for giving into his natural self-defense mechanism.

"I am but a mere amateur, but we can still hope," Kazuha said, thankfully seemingly taking the remark as nothing more than a joke.

"Show me sometime," Heizou said.

"One day," Kazuha promised. "I'll make sure it's a good one, just for you."

Heizou felt his stomach do a somersault—whether out of anticipation or regret, he did not know.

One, two, three… Heizou whipped around, the feeling of being airborne filling his body for a brief moment as he spun around, only to be cut short by his landing. Seven, eight, nine… His foot slid back, ready to launch into another set of jumps. Ten, eleven, twelve..! And into the air he went, his body feeling as weightless as the media said he looked whenever he went into his jumps.

It's off.

But unlike every other practice where he knew he was off, his body would not allow him to correct himself. No matter how much his mind commanded, demanded, screamed for it, his limbs felt heavy, as though they were made of lead instead of flesh, bone, and muscle.

THUD.

Heizou blinked.

Fuck.

"Heizou!"

The music was shut off, leaving behind a ringing sound in his head. With a grunt, he pushed himself up, rubbing his temples.

Thank goodness for the hair bun. Just about saved my neck.

"Are you alright?" The sound of Sara's skates against ice grated his ears as she skidded to a stop behind him. "Let me see, hold on."

After prodding his body for a bit, she let out a sigh of relief. "Any sharp pain?"

"No," he admitted.

"Nothing should be broken then." She leaned back, lips pursed. "That was not like you. You've done thousands of axels."

"Well, it's a stressful time." He shook his head. "Give me five minutes, we can run that again."

"…No."

Heizou blinked. "No?"

"No." Sara's gaze was stern. "No more for today. Go home and rest."

"What?"

"We can't have you injured, and I have a feeling it is not physical exhaustion you are experiencing." She rose to a stand. "Take the rest of the day off, Heizou. I'll see you tomorrow."

Heizou watched her as she skated off, just waiting, waiting for a punchline that did not exist. Finally, when she was out of sight, he pushed himself up, skated off the rink, and took off his boots. But instead of getting up to leave as his coach did, he laid down on the bench and stared up at the ceiling lights.

What the hell. He squeezed his eyes shut. What the hell, what the hell, what the hell. What the hell is wrong with you?

Because Sara was right—he was past the point where he could be making such mistakes, practice or not. He had first gotten people's attention with his consistent jumps, and now he couldn't even land one without hurting himself?

Stupid, stupid, stupid. He let out a shaky breath. This isn't like you. You've done this your whole life, even if you hate it…

Even if I hate it…

He opened his eyes. The brightness of the ceiling lights glared back at him. But if he took a second to delude himself, he could see camera flashes and faceless spectators instead of ceiling rafters and ugly overhead lights.

What's the point of it, letting you people watch? It's not like any of you know the difference between any of the jumps, nor do you really care about me being technically flawless as I skate to honor a dead woman you've never met…

He slapped a hand over his eyes, shutting out the cameras, the cheers, the absurdity of it all.

It's not like me to keep doing something I don't want to do. His other hand rested atop of the first. So why am I still here? Why am I still competing? Why am I not quitting?

As he let out another shaky breath, he felt the burden of self-hatred and fear crash down on him.

Kazuha blinked in surprise when the doors to the ice rink suddenly flew open to reveal the owner's son himself.

"Heizou, good evening," he greeted in that same, cheery, singsong tone of his.

Heizou pursed his lips.

"I'm canceling today."

"Oh." Kazuha patted his pockets. "I'm sorry, I don't think I got a text from you saying such…"

"I didn't text you. But I'm canceling today and every day afterwards."

"I-I'm sorry?"

"You don't have to pay me anything. It was fun while it lasted."

"Oh, is your schedule too packed with worlds? It's alright, I really do—"

"Kazuha." Heizou clenched his fist. "Don't come to worlds, okay?"

Silence.

"Heizou," Kazuha finally said, voice no longer light and mellow. "What happened? This isn't like you."

You're right. This isn't like me. I don't interact with my fans. I don't get close to people. I don't…I don't…

"I'm not someone you should idolize, Kazuha," he finally said. "And I've certainly got no right to tell you how to be a perfect skater, especially since I'm not one myself."

"Heizou, what are you—"

"Please don't come by for private lessons anymore." Heizou turned his head, unable to bear knowing what look Kazuha was giving him now. "Have a good night."

Kazuha stood, dumbfounded, as the door swung shut and locked. Without sparing so much as a glance back, Heizou turned and disappeared into the depths of the lobby. After determining that the skater was not coming back, Kazuha let out a sigh of defeat and turned away from the building.

One quick glance at his phone confirmed what he already knew: that Heizou had indeed not sent him prior notice, given that he had not messaged him for several days.

"What am I supposed to do with this ticket then?" Kazuha murmured as he brushed his thumb over the email the boy sent him weeks ago.

What used to be warm, happy family dinners had diverged into cordial affairs ever since his mother passed. Heizou and his brother seldom shared words, especially after their individual careers began taking off, and Heizou's father, emotionally stunted as he was, did the bare minimum to keep up the semblance of a functional family at the table.

So when Heizou saw his favorite dish from the local takeout place on the table, he knew something was wrong.

"Hei-kun," his father began barely even ten minutes after they started eating, "your manager told me you've turned down all interview requests for the past month."

"…I have."

"You should accept at least one."

Heizou stabbed his cutlet. His brother visibly winced.

"And have them poking and prodding into my personal life?" Heizou scoffed. "I'm not some victim in a murder case whose every facet of being needs to be scrutinized. I'm just a figure skater."

"You are a world champion," his father said, "and I would appreciate it if you acted like one. You're not ten anymore. I cannot be expected to coddle to your every need."

"Don't. I don't want you to."

His father pursed his lips. "Your mother would be delighted if you were to make at least one appearance. At least make one public statement about what has been going on and ease your fans' worries for the upcoming competition…"

Red eyes gazed sadly at him. "Heizou, I—"

"I have nothing to say."

His father sighed. "You know I'm very proud of you, and your mother as well. If only she could see her little boy now, achieving her dreams…"

"Well she's not here now, is she?" Heizou snapped. "So what's the point?"

Silence filled the room.

"You shouldn't speak of your late mother like that," his father finally said. "She's the reason you are even able to have this career. What good would it do for you to forget where it all began?"

"Would you like to learn to skate like your mother?"

"I can think of a number of things, actually."

"Heizou," his brother warned.

"I'm right and you know it." Heizou waved his hands. "I tried to skate after she died. So what? All kids whose daddies own ice rinks are bound to get curious, figure skating mother or not."

"Mind your tone."

"What's wrong with it?"

"You are an international figure skating champion. You ought to act like one."

"Yeah, yeah." Heizou scoffed. "Not one toe out of line, not one hair out of place, and archons forbid if I don't want people prying into my personal life."

"Mind your tone."

"You first, pops."

His father glared at him. "I didn't raise you to be a brat."

"So you admit that I'm just a brat to you."

"Heizou," his brother hissed.

His father huffed. "I will speak with Sango tomorrow and have her accept the next interview offer that comes your way."

"I can handle my affairs with my manager myself."

"Clearly it is doing you no good."

"No!" Heizou slammed the table, causing the entire family to jump. "I'm just trying to set boundaries, and you're just walking all over them!"

His father's expression was cold. "Watch your tone, boy."

"Is this my only worth to you?" Heizou snapped. "Just some gifted kid with a boo-hoo backstory that can give you good press? Allow you to overcharge for admission into your stupid little ice rink? Some idol that allows you to inflate your own ego to fill the void left behind by your dead wife who you're making your kid leverage to gain some extra clicks on social media?"

"Heizou!"

"Shikanoin Heizou, you will not speak to your father like that!"

"Why not? It's the truth, isn't it?"

"Do you know what we've given up so you can pursue your dream? I've rearranged schedules, paid for all your lessons and coaching, let you travel wherever you please so you could train and compete and become an inspiration to all—"

"All I wanted to do was skate!" Heizou snapped, causing his brother to gasp and his father to flinch. "I didn't want to win any competitions or be some renowned champion. I just wanted to feel closer to mom, and all it's done is make me hate her!"

Silence filled the room.

"You will not speak of your mother that way," his father finally whispered. "She skated because she loved it, much like how she loved you."

"So she didn't skate for fame and fortune like what I'm doing."

A bitter silence settled on the three's shoulders.

"I've heard enough." Heizou stood, shaking the table and causing his brother to flinch. "Leave me alone."

"Hei-kun." His father's eyes followed Heizou as the boy left the kitchen. "Hei-kun, I'm not done speaking with you."

"Heizou?" his brother yelled. "Heizou, where are you going?"

Heizou slammed the door shut behind him.

As expected of a graveyard in the evening, it was cold and dark and, most importantly, empty.

Row seven, eight, nine… He turned. One, two, three…

The Shikanoin family gravestone looked the same as it did when he last visited for annual grave-cleaning: listless and, most characteristically, dead.

Hello mother. He knelt before the stone, hand reaching out to trace the characters spelling out her name. It's been a while.

If he closed his eyes, he could almost see it—her face, her smile, the way her hair swirled around her as she twirled on the ice that she so fervently loved until her last dying breath.

I've taken something that you love and ruined it. His hand fell. I started doing this in your name, your memory, but now… He scoffed. Who am I kidding..? This has never been for you. This has always been for me. A selfish wish, dream, desire. A coping mechanism for a boy who didn't, and still doesn't know how to properly grieve for the piece of his soul he lost. He sat back in the grass, pulling his legs into his chest, eyes forever glued to his mother's name. …I'm sorry, mother. I've failed as your son.

He sat there for what felt like an eternity, the words on the tip of his tongue and forefront of his thoughts, but his voice unable to speak them aloud. Unable to admit his weakness. Unable to admit his inadequacies.

Unable to admit his failure.

"…Shikanoin."

Heizou's fingers curled into his socks. The sound of grass crunching filled his ears, drawing closer and closer, until the footsteps finally stopped beside him.

"…I brought flowers."

Heizou watched as a bundle of lilies was placed on the stone pedestal.

"Come on." Sara squeezed his shoulder. "Up you go. Let's get you home."

It had begun to rain by the time they reached her car. Sara let out a heavy sigh at the clouds, then opened the door and shoved Heizou inside. He sat, lifeless as a doll, as she scrambled into the driver's seat, started the engine, and blasted both the wipers and fans. As she drove out of the graveyard, rain poured down against the car, smattering itself over the windshield in a display of chaotic carelessness.

When they were finally on the road, he opened his mouth.

"Why?"

"Your father called," Sara answered. "And I had a hunch."

Heizou swallowed.

"I hate skating."

"…I know."

Heizou turned. Sara's eyes were glued to the windshield, but her expression was…calm. Unexpectedly so.

"I've been coaching for over a decade and skating for even longer, Heizou," she explained. "I know when someone has lost their passion."

Heizou pursed his lips. "You knew, but you didn't bring this up with me why?"

"Because you've never once admitted it to yourself. Not until now." Golden eyes shifted to briefly meet with his own. "I know you, Heizou. I've known you since you could barely reach my hip. You're brash, arrogant, and proud. But you're also reserved, self-conscious, and insecure. Me telling you that you have lost your desire to skate would not have been enough—your stubbornness would never admit it and you would have distanced yourself even further from your true emotions. And contrary to what you may think, I do care about you."

"Sara…"

"So you hate skating. So what?" She shrugged. "If you don't want to do it anymore, then that's fine. Stop."

"But—"

"I just want you to be happy, Heizou." Dark violet bangs swept into Sara's face. "And as hard as it may be to admit it, if stopping is what you believe would be best for you, what you believe would make you happy once again, then I will respect your decision and support you the best that I can."

Heizou stared at her for a moment.

"Wouldn't it be a waste?" he finally asked. "For me to stop at this point? When I've gotten this far? Climbed this high? Shed so many tears, crushed so many dreams, destroyed so many parts of my soul?"

"Heizou, the next words I am about to say are something that you know I don't take lightly." Sara's expression was firm. "No matter where in this road you decide to stop, I am, have, and always will be proud of the progress you have made of your own volition."

The sound of rain splattering against the car filled the air. Then, one by one, he felt it—hot streaks streaming down his cheeks, free-falling from his chin and onto the seat below.

Sara's hand felt warm atop his own as he finally bowed his head and allowed the broken sob that he couldn't let out at his mother's funeral all those years ago to fill the void of space time.

The sky and neighborhood were both quiet when they rolled into Heizou's driveway.

"Rest up," Sara said. "No practice tomorrow. I think it'll be good for both of us."

Heizou stared at the front of his house, at the light still flickering in the living room window.

"…Madame Kujou."

"Hm?"

"…Thank you."

"Of course, Shikanoin."

Heizou's brother was in the living room when he walked inside.

"Nii-san."

His brother pursed his lips, then rested a hand on Heizou's head.

"I got dad to go cool off. He'll need some time though."

"Of course."

"…Hei-kun."

"Hm?"

"…Whatever happens after worlds, I trust that you know what you're doing."

"…Mm."

"And if you need someone knocked down a peg, I have a stick and a puck ready anytime."

"…Don't miss like you did in your last game."

For the first time in what felt like forever, his brother laughed happily at his joke.

Heizou stared at the text for a long minute.

Kazuha

Today 21:54
Heizou: Okay.

The lookout point was typically a breathtaking sight when the skies were clear and the stars were out. But tonight, the skies were not clear, and the view was mediocre at best.

Kazuha was already waiting there, hands shoved in the pockets of his varsity jacket, head tilted upward at the clouds above.

Heizou stood at the edge of the curb, mouth suddenly drier than the Sumerian deserts, mind unexpectedly as frazzled as the static on an old television screen.

This was a bad idea. A bad idea. A bad—

"There are no stars for you to weave verses with tonight, fair poet."

Kazuha turned. Red eyes settled on him.

"There is beauty in every aspect of nature, but not all can be observed by the naked eye." Kazuha straightened. "You're earlier than I expected."

"I could say the same to you."

Kazuha chuckled. "Well, I came here to see you after all."

Silence.

"You're afraid, aren't you?" Kazuha's voice was suddenly soft, his tone heavy. "Of being around me."

"…I'm not afraid." Heizou shook his head. "It's more like…'afraid' isn't the right word for it."

"You associate me with something negative regardless."

Heizou was silent.

"Is something bothering you?"

"I don't interact with fans for a reason." Heizou averted his gaze. "I don't…well, I don't think there's anything to be a fan about."

"…Fan."

"I mean, I didn't know you were my fan at first. But it was really obvious after you said my name that you knew who I was, and every single time after that…" He shook his head. "I meant what I said back then, Kazuha, as horribly phrased as it may have been. I'm no good to be around. I just didn't want you to realize that and destroy whatever fantasy version of me you had in your head."

"…Heizou."

Heizou's heart jolted at the sound of his name.

"You don't really believe I solely think of you as some god to worship, do you?"

The silence swelled in his chest.

"…How can I not?" Heizou finally answered. "Most people don't bother to associate me outside of expected courtesy and professional connections, and those who do always sing praises about what I've done in my career, but never acknowledge what I do."

Kazuha let out a sigh. Then, "I hate to break the news to you, Heizou, but after spending these past few months together, I have come to think of you as my friend. Sometimes a mentor, sometimes my idol, but always my friend."

Friend.

Friend.

Friend.

"…Friend."

Oh. Heizou bit his lip. How long has it been since anyone has called me that?

"Friend," Kazuha echoed. "One who is willing to converse with me, spend time with me, and help me better myself."

"That's too much praise, I haven't actually—"

"Haven't what? Done all of those? Because I assure you: you have."

Heizou pursed his lips.

"You're not just saying this to make me feel better, right?"

"You've told me before that you have a knack for finding the truth." Kazuha waved his hand. "Go on then. Analyze me. Ascertain the truth of my words."

Heizou's intuition had always been one of his best hidden assets. It was what helped him correct flaws in his performance and pinpoint the discrepancies in mystery novel cases. So he knew that whatever his gut told him was more than likely correct.

But for the first time in his life, he wished what his intuition was telling him was wrong.

True, his heart said. Undeniably, unmistakably true.

But why? Why would he mean any of it?

"Heizou," Kazuha said. "You are good at what you do. Every praise, cheer, and award you've received doing what you do is well-deserved. You've earned it."

"…Even if I hated every second of it?"

Kazuha nodded. "Even then."

A bitter laugh fell from Heizou's lips.

"Why does it sound better when it comes from you than it does in my head?"

"You spend too much time up there." Kazuha's fingers gently brushed against his temples. "This is the brain that keeps on solving mystery novels far before climaxes, taking apart and reassembling new moves and tricks, and finding novel ways to criticize my amateur self during lessons." A smile wormed its way across the blond's face. "Have you ever once—just once—turned that off for even the slightest bit?"

Heizou opened his mouth, then shut it.

"Everything that goes on in here," Kazuha said, fingers once more grazing his skin, sending ripples of electricity down his spine, "it's produced wonderful things for you, sure. But what I'm most curious about is what's down here." His palm flattened against Heizou's shirt, resting just over his heart. "When was the last time you actually did something for yourself instead of your career?"

"Myself." Heizou gazed at the cloud-filled horizon, the inky skies void of stars, the dark figures of trees swaying in the distance—anywhere but the pale fingers on his chest and the scarlet eyes waiting expectantly. "Just for myself…"

"Would you like to learn to skate like your mother?"

"...Far too long, Kazuha," he finally answered.

Kazuha's hand fell away. "Then you know what to do."

Heizou's fingers curled over his heart, relishing in the ghost of Kazuha's warmth, the steadiness of his pulse, the lightness suddenly settling in his chest…

"I'm going to retire after worlds," he finally said.

"Oh?"

He nodded. "I'm exiting the skating world. At the end of the exhibition match, I'm going to be announcing my retirement. I'm never skating again afterwards." I'll finally be free.

Scarlet eyes fondly gazed back at him. "I see."

"I'm going to do it." Heizou affirmed—to himself or to Kazuha, he was not sure. "And I want you there when I do."

"I wouldn't miss it for the world."

A breeze picked up around them, carrying his words off into the clouds, forcing them to part and make way for an oasis of stars to shine through.

No mere coincidence. A sign, that's what it is.

"Kazuha."

"Hm?"

Heizou gazed at the canvas of stars now shining above them.

I'm finally going to do it. He held up a hand, fingers curling into a fist around a cluster of cosmos. I'm finally going to chase down my ultimate dream.

"Thank you."

Heizou could not see it, but Kazuha was smiling.

"Anything for you, Heizou."

Worlds were, as always, chaotic. The arena was packed with buzzing spectators, and the back rooms were filled with anxiety-high competitors just waiting to make their final little push.

This is it. Heizou cracked his knuckles, waiting for his cue. The last free skate. The second to last time that I will ever set foot in a place like this.

"Heizou." Sara nodded. "Make it count."

He nodded. One last time. Just one last time.

"I will."

A staff member turned. "Shikanoin-san, you're free to go."

A deep breath. In and out. And then a step.

The second his skate made contact, the world turned into a blur around him. When he finally snapped out of his daze, Sara had an arm around him, eyes sparkling as she admired the scoreboard.

"As for the results," the announcer said, "as anticipated…Shikanoin skyrockets above the competition and is in first place by a whole three points! Now that's a prodigy for you!"

"Do you think anyone's going to be able to touch him now?"

"Certainly not! I think our champion is here to stay!"

Sara squeezed Heizou's shoulder as he stared at the scoreboard.

"You've done your part here," she murmured. "The rest is all up to you."

The exhibition. Heizou nodded. I can't wait to see them try to solve the mystery of my retirement.

The locker room was, as expected, filled with tension. But as he walked towards the back, he saw a familiar face.

"Kamisato-san," Heizou greeted.

"Ayato is alright." Kamisato Ayato smiled. "A friend of Kazuha's is a friend of mine as well, especially when the friend is a fellow teammate."

Heizou pursed his lips. "How much has he told you?"

"Not much, but still enough." Ayato nodded. "I find it sweet that you've been tutoring him. Should you ever choose to stop competing, coaching may be a wonderful path to pursue."

Heizou pursed his lips.

"Is Kazuha here?"

"He is."

Heizou felt his heart skip a beat. Oh.

"I'm sure he'll be happy to see you later," Ayato continued. "He's been a fan of yours for quite some time."

"So I've gathered."

"Perhaps one day, he'll become your rival for world champion."

Heizou scoffed. "He'll need to learn how to jump before he can even think about competing."

"I'm sure he wouldn't mind if his future rival helped him out in the meantime."

Heizou stared at the man for a while.

"Is your friend here?"

Ayato tilted his head. "Friend?"

"The boy who taught you how to skate."

Heizou watched as Ayato's eyes widened for a brief second. Then, with a knowing smile, he replied, "He is."

"He must be a good friend."

Ayato blinked slowly.

"Do you know what Thoma used to tell us when he first taught us to skate?"

Heizou shook his head.

"He told us he wouldn't help us up if we fell."

Heizou blinked. "Really?"

"Yes. Quite harsh from someone as generous as him," Ayato chuckled. "I can still remember it: I had slipped and bruised myself, yet he looked me in the eyes and told me to get up. Said I had to learn how to do it myself, because he wouldn't always be around to help us up." He fiddled with his sleeve. "Uncharacteristically cold as he was, he was right. But I now know with certainty that should we ever stumble and fall, we will always be able to get up on our own and see his smiling face when we do."

"Well, I'm sure he enjoyed watching you and your sister today. You two did great earlier."

Ayato chuckled. "Thank you very much."

"I can't imagine skating with my sibling. My brother and I would probably cut each other's throats."

Ayato hummed softly. "Well, we have been through quite a lot, so we have a closer bond than most, I'll admit. But at the end of the day…I'm mostly happy to see the smile on Ayaka's face whenever she does something as grand as perfecting a technique or something as small as tying her laces." His expression softened as he continued. "Ayaka has a bright future ahead of her, and I'm glad I have the capacity to help her accomplish her dreams."

Her dreams…

"What about your own dreams?"

"My own?" Ayato smiled. "I'm already living mine."

Heizou blinked as Ayato stepped forward.

"With every waking minute, I'm right where I want to be, working for what I want accomplished." He stopped beside Heizou. "Call me ambitionless, but being able to live out my days peacefully with my loved ones…that is more than enough for me."

Heizou stared ahead. "More than enough," he repeated.

"Everyone has a different definition of happiness." A hand brushed against Heizou's shoulder. "I'm sure you'll be able to find yours, Heizou."

And with that, the elder Kamisato was gone.

Find my own happiness. Heizou closed his eyes. My own happiness. More than enough. Just getting started…

His feet began moving before his thoughts could fully formulate in his mind.

An exhibition skate was meant to be just that: a low-stakes performance meant to dazzle ignorant eyes and satiate the palettes of the knowledgeable.

But for me, the stakes could never be higher. Heizou fiddled with his sleeves. This is my last skate. My last exhibition. My last show. And only two other souls in this entire room know about it.

A single glance back confirmed that Sara was watching him, golden eyes filled with cheer.

"Let the show begin," she mouthed.

Heizou closed his eyes.

That's one. As for the other…

He barely registered being called to take the ice.

What a sight it would have been for my childhood self to see me actually executing that silly little mystery show. He threw his arm to the side, allowing his checkered cape to flutter in the air. I wonder what he would think of the mystery being presented today. A hand rose, reaching up towards the spotlights now turning to centralize on him. No…I wonder what you will think about this show, Kazuha.

Around him, the entirety of the world fell dark and silent, leaving him frighteningly alone.

No. Inhale. Not alone. Exhale. Not anymore.

The light tingle of white noise filled the air—the first sound cue in his program, a representation of the show that was about to air. Then the bounce of his signature violin cut through, Heizou's blades scraped against the ice, and the show had finally begun.

Start of the program: framing the big picture. Skating around, getting ready for some exposition as we open the case file. He held up his hands, palms flat towards him, mimicking the motions. Victim's details. Scene of the crime. Time of discovery. Coroner's report. A quick jump soon followed, turning him back around the way he came.

Next steps: gathering clues. His fingers scraped the smooth surface of the ice as he slid across it, front knee bent, back leg extended into a lunge. He examined his hand, brushing it off after a glance. Curiouser and curiouser. A photograph here. An ornament off-center there. Skid marks hidden in the corner. His feet skirted past one another as he shifted his stance, leaning towards the outer edge of the rink, smoothly guiding him around the curve. Every new entry to the mystery, collected, analyzed, scrutinized, placed on high display. He twisted his hips, letting his body follow through—naturally, assuredly, unequivocally…

We now begin to piece everything together. His body leaned forward ever so slightly, letting his momentum carry him forward. With every clue, every interview, every bit and piece of evidence submitted, the picture becomes clearer and clearer. His body whirled around, airborne, until it wasn't—until he was gliding backwards, sticking the landing with habitual ease. More, more, more! His foot swung around, launching him into a new run, accelerating in time to the racing of the strings in the background. Until at last, the culprit has been found, and justice's hammer comes swinging down!

His feet slammed against the ice as he landed the jump, twisting him around.

And now, the climax.

The dramatic melody finally stopped, as did Heizou, allowing the hollow wail of the violin to echo throughout the room.

The case is over. But now what? He sank to his knees. You take every case given to you. Upturn every clue possible. Bring justice to every victim you meet. But is this really a good thing? He fell forward, gently, gracefully. You may be a wonderful detective, but is it a good thing to profit off the sin of others? You wish the crimes you solved never occurred, but without them, you would have no purpose in the world. Is this the kind of life you want to live out forever?

The violin stopped.

Inhale. Exhale. Two, Three.

The soft sound of a flute spilled through the speakers—gentle, light, unassuming. But it was enough to make Heizou lift his head and pull himself up.

One day, you are visited by someone from the just solved case. And he thanks you for what you've done—for bringing justice and peace to a case so personal.

Heizou's foot swung out, creating the beginnings of a spin.

"What good have I done? I was unable to bring your beloved back, only cast their murderer asunder."

The violin began ascending up the scale in time to the gradual speed up of his spin.

"You have given me an answer, dear detective. You have solved the puzzle that has tormented me for so long."

Faster, faster, faster…

"But what about you? You have done so much good for others. But you seem as though you are being tormented by your own struggles. Have you found the missing piece to your puzzle?"

More, more, more.

"My puzzles are my own to solve."

Higher, higher, higher…

"What nonsense is that? No one should have to find lost pieces on their own. Please, allow me."

Heizou pulled his hands inward and cradled them against his chest.

"...Thank you."

A bounce from the violin, and then a chime from the flute.

I see you've found your answer after all.

Silence.

Inhale. Exhale. One, two, three.

Applause rippled throughout the arena.

The locker room was filled with chatter and cheer. Heizou barely had enough time to change out of his detective suit between being congratulated and praised by fellow competitors from every single nation.

"Sheesh," he muttered, pinching his nose when he finally got away from everyone long enough to escape to the much quieter back hallway. Maybe I can finally get some signal and call… His train of thought vanished the second he rounded the corner.

Platinum locks and scarlet eyes gazed back at him.

"This place is for competitors and their coaches only," Heizou said, because he had long come to accept that normal greetings were not a part of his repertoire.

"Shame." Kazuha held up a bundle of roses. "I even came bearing gifts."

"…Did the Kamisatos sneak you in?"

Kazuha had a knowing smile plastered across his face. "Thoma did."

"…Of course." Heizou held out his arms and accepted the flowers. "Thanks for coming."

"I wouldn't miss your performance for the world."

Heizou swallowed. "What if I told you that would be the last time you'd get to see me skate?"

"Then I'd call you a liar, and I know how you feel about liars."

Heizou ran a hand across the rose buds, caressing their silky soft petals.

"They're nice."

"Hand picked for you."

"I bet the Kamisatos would also like flowers."

"Heizou, I came here to see you, not them."

Heizou swallowed down the lump forming in his throat.

"Kazuha."

"Yes?"

Memories of the dazzling lights, the applause, the cheers—all of it faded into silence as he took a step forward, until the only gap left between him and the light-haired boy was the ridiculously oversized bouquet of roses.

"What would you say if I gave you a free annual pass to my family's ice rink?"

Kazuha tilted his head. "Oh?"

"And…and…" Heizou inhaled. In. Out. Breathe. It's just Kazuha. It's just Kazuha. It's just…Kazuha.

Kazuha.

"What if I asked you to keep on skating for…no. Not for. With me. Low stakes. Not coaching. Just…for fun. Just being in each other's company. Because…because I want you there with me."

Kazuha's gaze was soft.

"What do you think?" What is your answer?

Kazuha's hand rose, gently cupping Heizou's cheek. Then, without a word, he closed the gap.

The cellophane crinkled between their chests as Heizou leaned into the kiss.

As predicted, the headlines and tabloids literally screamed at the news of Heizou's retirement.

"It's a good time, if anything," Ayato said in a night show segment. "He has reached the highest of the high and has stayed there for quite some time. It is fully his choice when and which path he shall take to climb down the mountain of success."

"Shikanoin-san has inspired many of us," Ayaka agreed in a magazine spread. "I wish him the best in retirement."

"I hope he is living whatever kind of life it is that he desires," was the statement given by Alhaitham when asked by a local columnist.

Of course, not everyone gave the news a warm reception, as evidenced by the mixed reviews from Heizou's close ensemble.

"What the hell?" Sango said over the phone before berating him for not giving her a heads up.

"Let me know if you need any help in the future!" Ryuji amusedly added when Sango finally put the phone down long enough to catch her breath.

"He sure moved fast," was the only comment his brother offered when his teammates hounded him over the reveal.

"Hmph." His father refused to so much as look at him for a few weeks after the announcement

But that's alright, Heizou thought to himself when he came home late one night to a handwritten note saying that a serving of dinner had been saved for him. He was able to cope with the loss of mother. And now, I can as well.

Retirement, otherwise, was much different than he imagined it to be. He still helped at the family rink, routinely went to the gym, regularly conversed with Sara, and dished out money to update and maintain his equipment.

But this. He crossed his arms. This is a little different.

"Kazuha, I told you, bend deeper!"

Kazuha huffed. "I'm trying."

"Well…" Heizou skidded to a stop beside him. "Try harder. Again!"

Kazuha let out a soft groan, but wiped his forehead and propelled himself forward, preparing to make another jump.

"Better, but this time, pull your arms in faster."

"That's not possible."

"It is. I've done it."

"I'm not as good as you."

"Not with that attitude, you won't be."

"I'm not giving any attitude." But Kazuha was clearly pouting as he launched himself into another run. Heizou watched in slight amusement as Kazuha landed the jump with even less grace than the one before.

"All attitude, no altitude."

Kazuha glared at him from across the rink. Then, within the blink of an eye, he was skating forward, arms outstretched, his intentions written plain as day on his face. Heizou easily swerved to the side, but held out his arm to catch the other as he skidded by him, causing the two to spiral around from the momentum.

By the time they stopped spinning, Kazuha had his arms around Heizou's waist, forehead pressed against Heizou's own, and that forever tantalizing smile stretched across his face.

"I think you rather like this attitude," he chirped.

Heizou half-heartedly squirmed in Kazuha's hold. "Only when it works in my favor."

Kazuha's fingers curled in the fabric of Heizou's shirt. "Is this the outcome you had anticipated?"

"Perhaps." Not a real answer, but he knew Kazuha wasn't looking for one anyways.

"Let's take a break?"

"You've only been at this for fifteen minutes."

Kazuha laced his fingers through Heizou's before twirling him around. "I never said we had to be idle."

Heizou snorted. "You sure you want to compete in singles? You seem to have a desire to perform pair skate stunts."

Kazuha hummed. "Only if you'll be my partner."

"Bullshit rule limitations aside, I'm not coming out of retirement just to be thrown around by you."

"I would never throw you." Kazuha's nose brushed against Heizou's own. "If anything, I'd never let you go."

Heizou couldn't help but smile. "Then don't."

Kazuha's lips were warm against his own.