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It started with a single piece of tape.
Chishiya had peeled it off his glove after a long practice, flicking it onto the bench without a thought. The rink he worked at as a goalie was a shared space. Danma Takeru’s family had owned the rink for three generations, and the man made sure there was plenty of room for Tokyo’s top hockey team, the Wilds, to practice and drill, hosting games during the on-season. It was also home to the city’s elite figure skating team, offering them ice time to train for competitions.
That meant Chishiya Shuntarou, the Tokyo Wilds goalie, and Niragi Suguru, figure skater, had been crossing paths for the past two years; two different worlds forced to coexist in the same space.
Chishiya clearly forgot about the tape. It literally was a scrap of nothing, unimportant. But, it was apparently important enough for Niragi Suguru to notice, and retaliate. Starting something that Chishiya wasn’t sure what it was at the beginning, but became a solid display of dislike.
The next morning, after that practice, a dull, well-worn skate guard was sitting inside his helmet in Chishiya’s locker. A message was scribbled across it in permanent marker: Try blocking shots with this instead.
Chishiya scoffed. He had seen the rather annoying skater around. Heard him too. He was loud, and abrasive. Cocky, or confident depending on your definition, but definitely skilled. Talented.
The next week, he left a puck in Niragi’s skate bag with For when you get tired of dancing scrawled over it. In response, the following week, Niragi slipped a tiny plastic snowflake into Chishiya’s glove—an obvious dig at the “delicate” nature of figure skating. Chishiya almost laughed. Almost.
For the next two years, the pattern continued. Leaving little digs at each other, without words. But the message was clear.
“Chishiya! Get your ass on the ice now!”
Chishiya rolled his eyes, but slammed down his helmet’s visor, awkwardly hopping over the barrier, his ice stakes hissing as he skated over to the goal, past his teammates who stood in a huddle nearby.
“Yeah, yeah sorry coach, I ran into a nuisance who was holding me hostage asking about our next game,” Chishiya called to Aguni, who merely grunted in response. From above, Kuina waved to Chishiya with a smile, her figure skates slung over her shoulder.
Chishiya rolled his eyes again. Another last minute practice, called by their coach, Aguni, because they were facing Kyoto's Dynasty next weekend, and what Aguni wanted, he got. Never mind that it was Chishiya’s day off and he had to ask his best friend for a ride to the rink. He wasn’t even supposed to be playing in this next game…their secondary goalie, Ippei was going to fill in, but when he texted Chishiya saying that he got put in the hospital after eating way too much sushi, Chishiya knew he would have to fill in.
And he was dreading it.
Not because he hated playing, being a goalie was his favorite thing in life. Catching pucks or blocking a score, seeing the potential victory fade in his opponent’s eyes and turn into disappointment. No, he lived for it. It was his favorite thing.
It was just about the incident last year, when they played Dynasty. Everything turned into chaos, which was Dynasty’s typical play. The incident involved multiple fights with his teammates and the opponents, culminating in Chishiya throwing himself on top of the fight pile, getting a black eye and being pulled off by two different referees.
He might have bitten someone too, he didn't remember. But the jerks had it coming.
But it was probably why the rival coaches demanded that Chishiya never play them again.
They were going to be so mad to see him, Chishiya thought to himself, almost pleased but then remembering he still had to face them, hear all of their taunts and jabs about his size.
Sure, Chishiya was the smallest on his team, and probably the smallest goalie to ever play in Japan. Typically, goalies were large, large enough to fill the space of their goal and use their bodies to mass block a score. But Chishiya made up for it, he was precise, deadly in the way he analyzed a player’s style and the way they shot the puck. He could predict anything, and catch anything. He took pride in that.
“Alright team, next Sunday is the big game, and I want you all to remember what happened last year…and not repeat it,” Aguni said, sternly, giving each of his players a look. “We almost got banned from the championship because our friend Karube decided to start a fight.”
Karube, to his credit, simply shrugged, but had a small smile on his face, “They had it coming.”
Aguni sighed, “Arisu, please keep the team in line for this game.”
Team captain Arisu nodded, shooting Karube a look.
“Let’s get started.”
Drill after drill, Chishiya made sure to catch every puck and block the ones he couldn’t catch. Chota, their lovable, yet probably most idiotic member of them had to practice his shots. Chota was typically on their defensive line, but Aguni insisted that he practice his offense. Dynasty was not known for their subtlety or creativity in their plays, instead using brute force to wear out their opponents.
“We’re going to be too tired to play Sunday if Coach keeps this up,” Chota said, continuing his drills as Chishiya dutifully blocked.
“Try going higher to the left,” Chishiya said, eyes drifting over to the team working on passes, “Dynasty’s guy never catches that.”
“Sure-” Chota said, firing off another puck that Chishiya caught so quickly it looked effortless.
“Well, I always catch it, but he won’t,” Chishiya said, sliding back the puck.
After another hour, Aguni called out, “Okay that’s enough for today. Remember, tomorrow is an all day practice- but we’ll have lunch brought in.”
There was a chorus playful, and some not so playful groans and goodbyes as the team packed up. Danma, the owner of the rink, and some on the team would say Aguni’s boyfriend, just Aguni didn’t know it yet came down to talk to him, huddled together, close enough for Danma’s long hair to brush against Aguni’s cheek.
Chishiya huffed at the sight, not annoyed but unsure of what feeling arose in his chest. He was never good at feelings. Kuina would know, but he would rather die than discuss it.
Kuina’s laugh broke his train of thoughts and he glanced up as he skated over to the rink’s barrier. Kuina’s dreads swung as she lifted herself over and glided smoothly onto the ice. She was wearing her typical figure skating training outfit, all blue athletic wear and her typical smile was practically infectious. Chishiya loved his best friend. She was probably the most empathic, most kind person he had ever met.
And also the most nosy, she was always up in his business. Especially his love life. Or lack thereof.
“Shiya! You looked great today- even for someone who literally rolled out of bed, called me, and hauled ass to the ice,” Kuina called, lifting one leg up into an effortless coast.
“Whatever,” he called back, sitting and beginning to take off his skates, when he heard several loud yells and talking and he glanced up. Of course. The rest of the figure skaters had arrived.
Typically, the figure skaters practiced before or after the hockey team. They were a small group, but very elite. Chishiya could respect their work ethic, but in his opinion, no one trained harder and more often than the hockey team.
Kuina loved her team. Heiya Akane, Samura Takatora, the two inseparables, Asahi and Momoka, their coach Kano Mira, all he tolerated perfectly well. Sure Mira had a weird staring problem but she was more than capable as a coach. But there was that one skater he couldn’t stand, one with a passion.
Niragi Suguru.The man was annoyingly talented, annoyingly good looking…and just annoying overall. And then there were their “gifts”. The way they fought wordlessly.
It also didn’t help that over time, Chishya found the man good looking over the past two years. Chishiya actually hated the fact that the man was hot. Tall. Long dark hair, piercings, and Chishiya’s literal type. He even had a few tattoos, which made him even more attractive. Niragi’s only purpose in life seemed to antagonize Chishiya.
Chishiya was always glad when the skaters practiced after the hockey team. Chishiya didn’t have to sit and watch their final practice runs, as Niragi skated on the ice like he was born there. No, he preferred them to arrive after hockey practice because he could bolt out of there as soon as possible. He could also leave a little parting jab as well.
The day’s gift was a mouthguard sitting perfectly balanced on the toe pick of Niragi’s skate in his locker. Chishiya loved reminding Niragi that the hockey team would always be around.
Chishiya had his oversized bag hoisted over his shoulder, ready to call an Uber and go home, back to bed when the man himself entered the rink, long hair in a braid, sunglasses on his face, dressed in all black that made him look way too hot.
Chishiya scowled at the thought, and Niragi stopped in front of him, pulling his sunglasses off.
“Early morning huh?”
Chishiya grunted in response, intent on not staring at Niragi’s face, his broad shoulders or perfectly shaped torso, instead glared at his feet, black combat boots. Even Niragi’s footwear was cool.
Niragi laughed, a sound that seemed to glitter in the air, Niragi slid his sunglasses off, smirking. “Bet you don’t even need to be awake to run hockey drills.”
Chishiya’s head snapped up. “Excuse me?”
Niragi’s grin widened. “Just saying. Everyone knows hockey players aren’t exactly—”
“Known to be what ?”
Niragi tilted his head, feigning innocence. “Oh, you know. Intelligent. ”
Chishiya scowled and shoved past Niragi and his stupid face.
He hated figure skaters.
“You have to be kidding me.”
Chishiya stood in disbelief two days later, staring at the rink schedule taped to the locker room door. The hockey team and figure skaters had been double-booked for practice.
Aguni ripped the schedule down and stormed toward Danma’s office, who had conveniently disappeared a few minutes ago. “We’re already in the playoffs, and now we have to split the ice?”
Chishiya ran a hand through his hair, already regretting being here. As if his week couldn’t get worse, now he had to share space with Niragi.
Gathering his equipment, Chishiya finally noticed a ripped lace tied around the strap of his goalie mask, no doubt Niragi’s little gift of the week and slammed his locker shut. He and the team made their way to ice, everyone complaining about the mix up.
The figure skaters were already filing in, chatting amongst themselves. Kuina skated by with a laugh, “Try not to trip over your ego, Shiya.”
Chishiya shot her a glare before catching sight of Niragi, lazily stretching at the rink’s edge, looking entirely too smug. Great.
As if sensing his stare, Niragi turned, his usual smile widening, “Guess we’re sharing, huh?”
Chishiya groaned, “I’m gonna kill someone.”
As the teams shuffled onto the ice, Chishiya took his position in the net. He knew he had to block out distractions, but Niragi’s presence was already gnawing at him. When the first puck came flying, he almost hesitated, nearly missing the block. No way he was letting Niragi get to him.
But practice was an absolute nightmare. The hockey team took half the rink while the figure skaters occupied the other, and it was only a matter of time before chaos ensued.
Pucks whizzed dangerously close to skaters, and more than one figure skater nearly collided with a hockey player barreling through a drill.
“Yo!” yelled Samura, almost tripping face first, but managed to slide to his knees as Karube barreled around him.
“You watch it!” Karube yelled back, and fired off a puck. Chishiya almost missed it, but managed to block it with his body, feeling the dull thud of the puck against his protective gear.
Niragi being nearby was somehow affecting his concentration, something which Chishiya took pride in. On the ice, only one thing mattered. The puck. The puck was his god. Where it went, Chishiya always knew. Predicting its movements, how it was an extension of the player, it was poetry to him. An aggressive player, an aggressive puck. A cautious player, a cautious puck. A chaotic player, a chaotic puck. The process of decoding the player, thus the puck, usually relaxed him. Today though, mentally, he was wading through honey.
“I swear, if one of you idiots hits me with a puck, I’m gonna make you eat it,” Niragi called over the ice, clearly unbothered.
“No promises,” Chishiya shot back, deflecting a new shot from Karube with just a little too much force, sending the puck skidding too close to Niragi’s skates.
Niragi grinned, skating around effortlessly, twirling the puck around the tip of his blade before flicking it back to Chishiya. “Better luck next time, goalie boy.”
Chishiya clenched his jaw. It was going to be a long practice.
From across the ice, Niragi watched, arms crossed, an irritatingly smug glint in his eyes. “Try not to embarrass yourself.”
Chishiya rolled his shoulders, focusing. Fine. If Niragi wanted a show, he’d give him one.
With Niragi still watching, Chishiya decided to show off. He caught the next shot with a dramatic, but unnecessary flourish, spinning it in his glove before tossing it aside. Niragi raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed—but Chishiya caught the slight smirk playing on his lips.
“Cute,” Niragi said. “For a hockey player.”
Chishiya huffed, but his pulse picked up, irritated at the way Niragi’s eyes lingered on him a second too long.
The next shot came hard and fast. Chishiya dove, stretching his body just enough to block it wide. He heard Kuina whistle in approval. Niragi, though, simply leaned against the rink boards, watching with the kind of interest that made Chishiya’s skin heat. But the moment ended quickly as it formed and Niragi was gone, skating away and Chishiya felt himself relax, get into the zone, and focus on his training.
As Chishiya prepared for his next drill, he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. Niragi, standing at the far end of the rink, suddenly launched into motion. With a powerful push, he skated forward, gaining speed before leaping into a textbook-perfect axel jump. He spun effortlessly, landing with a smooth flourish, before throwing a smug glance in Chishiya's direction.
Chishiya knew he should ignore it, and should act unimpressed. But he couldn’t help the way his breath caught. The sheer athleticism, the control, the undeniable grace of Niragi on the ice, it was frustratingly captivating.
To make himself feel better he called out, “Cute, for a figure skater.”
Niragi laughed at that, skating, dancing away.
Niragi was always frustratingly captivating. And Chishiya never knew what to do with it.
A day later, finally a day off, Chishiya decided to go to the rink after hours, late in the evening. Danma never cared when he did, as long as he locked up after. It was one of Chishiya’s favorite moments in life. The solitude and quiet, Chishiya did love playing hockey, but it was a loud sport, at its core. The screaming, cheering crowd, the yells from the players and coaches, the piercing whistle calling out plays.
But this, the dimly lit rink and the clear, fresh smell of the ice quieted his mind. The sound of his blades cutting through the ice was soothing, and he moved effortlessly, practicing small maneuvers, his focus entirely on himself and the quiet air, imagining the upcoming win on Sunday.
Then, the door creaked and footsteps, and a familiar voice.
“Couldn’t stay away either, huh?”
Chishiya internally groaned. “Of course it’s you.”
Niragi grinned, walking down the stairs, pulling on his skates. “What can I say? Watching you fumble around is too good to miss.”
“Fumble?” Chishiya scoffed. “Please, I’m perfect on the ice. We don’t use the soft ice you like so much, it makes us faster, more efficient.”
“That so?” Niragi’s smirk widened, and he finally joined Chishiya on the ice, gliding like he owned the place. The look in his eyes told Chishiya that he had something to say, a comeback of some kind.
“Everyone knows that,” Chishiya retorted, and turned away.
Chishiya meant to skate away smoothly, but his blade caught an unexpected rough patch, and he slipped. Niragi reacted fast, somehow already beside him. Niragi’s arms felt strong, reaching for him, but Chishiya’s weight took them both down. They crashed onto the ice, Niragi landing half on top of him. Chishiya wheezed from the sudden weight. Blinking as he realized that Niragi was on top of him. His rival. The annoying pest that he couldn't get out of his mind.
Niragi was on top of him.
For a moment, neither moved. Chishiya was still freaking out internally about how good Niragi’s weight felt on him, and how Niragi seemed totally unfazed by the situation.
Niragi stared down at Chishiya, something unreadable flickering in his dark eyes.
“Huh,” Niragi murmured. “Didn’t realize you were this beautiful up close.”
Like he was hypnotized, Niragi moved, brushing a stray silver strand of hair off Chishiya's face. Chishiya felt his cheeks heat up but just as quickly, the spell was broken. He realized who was on top of him.
“Get off of me,” Chishiya said, roughly shoving Niragi off, and almost, almost sad that the comforting feeling that Niragi’s presence brought melted away as Niragi moved to stand, holding a hand out.
“Sorry- I didn’t mean- to, it’s just we’ve never gotten that close to each other and-”
“It’s fine,” Chishiya muttered, but did take Niragi’s offered hand. Beautiful? He thinks…I’m beautiful?
That was truly a first. Chishiya was used to being called many things. Aloof. Cold. Stuck-up. Arrogant. Unfeeling. Insensitive.
Lonely.
But, beautiful..
Chishiya turned away, so Niragi couldn’t see his still red cheeks.
“I’m sorry.”
That made Chishiya pause.
“I didn’t mean to offend you, well, I mean, offend you in a not-fun- playful way I guess. I actually like the way we tease each other. It’s like we’re both in on a joke that only we know and I don’t know it makes me look forward to seeing you- but I understand if it goes too far…so, I’m sor-”
Chishiya froze, his heart thudding loudly in his chest. He didn’t know what to say. This wasn’t the usual back-and-forth banter with Niragi. This felt...different. More sincere, somehow. The tension that usually crackled between them now felt strangely light. Like a veil lifted. Chishiya turned to face Niragi.
Niragi stood awkwardly, a soft but genuine look on his face. Chishiya could feel the heat in his cheeks intensify, but he couldn’t help the strange sense of vulnerability that washed over him. He wasn’t used to feeling...seen like this.
“I—” Chishiya started, but his throat went dry. He cleared it, trying to shake off the moment. "You're just...a nuisance. But I guess I can live with it. Don't get any ideas though."
Niragi raised an eyebrow, but the smirk didn’t return, at least not in the way it usually did. Instead, there was something more sincere about the way he was looking at Chishiya, his gaze softened. "You know, I don't know why I tease you so much. Maybe it's because you're the only person who doesn't take it seriously."
Chishiya stared at him, momentarily caught off guard. He had always been good at pushing people away, keeping them at arm's length. But Niragi had a way of slipping past all those walls, digging into places Chishiya didn’t know he even had. It annoyed him, yes, but also...it didn’t. There was something oddly refreshing about how Niragi never seemed to back down.
"You've got your own way of getting under my skin," Chishiya muttered.
Niragi chuckled softly, stepping closer on the ice until they were nearly side by side. "And I’m guessing that's the only way you’re ever going to let me close."
Chishiya didn’t answer at first. Instead, he glided across the ice with a practiced ease, trying to regain the same focus that had eluded him during their practice. Niragi followed him, his presence still lingering like an annoying but magnetic pull. It was hard to ignore him when the guy had the audacity to be both a challenge and...something else. Something Chishiya wasn’t ready to admit.
But Niragi wasn’t giving him that luxury.
"Not going to leave until you answer me?" Niragi asked, sounding more curious than teasing for once.
Chishiya bit his lip, skating a little faster, pushing through the chilly air that rushed past his face. His mind raced, his thoughts tangled. He hated how much Niragi was making him think, making him feel. But then, with a sigh, Chishiya finally slowed and turned to face him, his voice quieter than he intended. "I don’t know, Niragi. Maybe I don’t want to admit how... distracting you are."
Niragi’s eyes softened, the playful edge to his grin slipping away. He looked at Chishiya for a long moment, and for the first time, it wasn’t a challenge or a taunt. It was something more, something that made Chishiya’s stomach flip.
"Well, maybe I don’t mind being distracting," Niragi said, his voice low, almost hesitant.
And before Chishiya could say anything else, Niragi closed the distance between them, just a few inches away. He didn’t move to touch him, didn’t lean in to make some joke or sarcastic comment. Instead, he just looked at him—his eyes searching, thoughtful.
Chishiya’s breath caught, and for the first time, he didn’t know whether to push him away or pull him closer.
"Maybe," Niragi continued, his voice soft, "We could be...distracting together."
The words hung in the air like an unfinished sentence, like a dare or a question that didn’t need to be answered just yet.
But it was enough. Enough to make Chishiya’s chest tighten, his mind finally silenced by something other than the familiar snark. And for once, he didn’t feel the need to shut it all down. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing after all.
"Maybe," Chishiya said quietly, his heart racing as he met Niragi’s gaze. "Maybe I’m starting to like the distraction."
Niragi’s grin returned, a little slower, a little softer, but still there. "Good."
And for the first time, Chishiya didn’t mind one bit.
Somewhere along the way, the edges of what used to be softened. Chishiya thought of how they always left something for each other. Sure, they were annoying things. But…it was also their way of saying, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.
One evening, after a practice, Chishiya found a protein bar sitting atop his gear. He almost ignored it, assuming it was someone else’s, until he spotted the note tucked beneath it: Don’t pass out on the ice. Bad look for a goalie.
He rolled his eyes, but he took it anyway.
A day later, Niragi opened his locker to find a neatly folded towel—one of the good ones from the supply closet, not one of the scratchy old ones. No note, no message, but he knew exactly who had left it. He snorted, shaking his head, a faint smile on his lips.
Sunday finally came, and the atmosphere in the arena was electric, the stands packed with fans, their voices a constant hum of anticipation. Chishiya adjusted his helmet, his fingers tightening around the edges of the net, feeling the cool metal against his gloves, feeling a tad nervous, knowing Niragi texted him that he was coming to watch the game.
His team was lined up and already in position. This wasn’t just any game—it was the game. The match that had been building up for weeks, a showdown with the Kyoto Dynasty team.
It wasn’t just the rivalry that made this game so intense. Dynasty was known for one thing: aggression. They didn’t just play the game; they tried to break their opponents. Their players were ruthless, skilled at pushing the limits of fair play, and they thrived on chaos. Chishiya’s team had been in enough scrapes with them to know how dirty they could get. He took a deep breath, squaring his shoulders as the buzzer went off. Chishiya’s eyes flickered across the ice, locking onto the opposing players as they circled, ready to make their first move.
There was a certain thrill that came with being the goalie that Chishiya always loved. It was what made him pursue hockey throughout college and now professionally. The challenge. The pressure. He was the last line of defense, the one who stood between his team and defeat.
But today, there was an added weight in his chest. The memories of last year’s confrontation still stung, and the thought of facing Dynasty again made his jaw tighten. He could almost feel the heat of their glares, the taunts, the aggressive plays that had led to chaos on the ice.
"Stay sharp, Chishiya," Aguni’s voice echoed from the bench. Chishiya gave a brief nod, ready for anything. The puck dropped, and the game began with immediate intensity. Dynasty was throwing everything they had at the goal, testing Chishiya's reflexes with high-speed shots and aggressive plays. Every time the puck came near, he was there, his movements fluid, each block precise. There was no room for error, not with Dynasty closing in like wolves. He caught shots from every angle, some too fast to see, but his instinct never failed him. He felt the familiar rush of adrenaline, the satisfaction of being untouchable on the ice.
Kyoto’s star forward, Takayama, cut through the defense with practiced ease. Chishiya’s eyes tracked him, every muscle in his body tightening in anticipation. Takayama was unpredictable, quick, and ruthless. His wrist flicked, and the puck hurtled toward the top corner.
Chishiya lunged, stretching out in a blur of movement. His glove connected with the puck, sending it ricocheting away. A sharp clink echoed through the rink as he landed back into position.
Takayama skated past, smirking as he muttered something to his teammate. Chishiya caught a few words—something about his height. Predictable. And unoriginal. He barely spared them a glance as he muttered back, “Not that funny, especially coming from two guys whose collective IQ barely hits one hundred.”
The game continued, but in the third period, all hell broke loose. Shot after shot, and Dynasty kept slamming into his teammates, Chota went flying at one point, and Arisu caught a hockey stick to the head, making the offending player go into the penalty box.
Then, a next shot came out of nowhere. A blind pass. A defenseman winding up. The shot was fast, too fast.
Chishiya barely turned in time before the puck struck hard against the side of his helmet.
A deafening crack reverberated through his skull. His vision blurred, the world tilting as the force rattled him. For a second, everything slowed—the cold ice beneath him, the echoing cheers, the rapid skates slicing across the rink. His ears rang, drowning out the noise, leaving only the pounding of his own heartbeat.
But his body kept moving.
His head throbbed, but instinct refused to let him hesitate. He shook himself, blinking hard to clear his vision. The pain settled as a dull, insistent throb behind his eyes, but he shoved it down. No time. Not now.
Somewhere in the chaos, Karube was furious.
The unmistakable sound of bodies colliding rang out as he slammed Takayama against the boards. A scuffle broke out, a blur of swinging fists and furious shouting.
“Don’t fucking touch my goalie,” Karube growled, barely held back by Arisu as the referees rushed in to separate them.
Chishiya barely registered it. The game wasn’t stopping. He forced himself back into position, even as his movements felt a fraction too slow, his body heavier than it should be. The next play unfolded in front of him like a dream, every movement slightly offbeat.
A loose puck. An opposing player closing in. He pushed forward, sliding into position just in time. His glove shot out, snatching the puck out of the air. The sudden impact jolted through his wrist, but he held firm. The arena erupted.
He barely heard it.
Everything was beginning to feel… off. His vision pulsed at the edges, and a sickening wave of dizziness rolled through him. But he refused to leave. Dynasty wasn’t backing down, and neither was he.
Near the bench, in the bleachers, Niragi watched with narrowed eyes, arms folded as he leaned forward. Something was wrong. He knew Chishiya’s game—every movement, every calculated reaction. And right now, something was missing. Chishiya wasn’t tracking the puck the same way. His steps were sluggish, his head turning just a second too slow.
When Aguni called for a timeout, Niragi didn’t hesitate. He was by the bench before the whistle had fully faded, staring straight at Chishiya.
“Hey.” His voice cut through the haze, sharp and demanding.
Chishiya turned from where he sat, as Arisu and Aguni strategized nearby, shooting slightly worried glances in their direction, and Niragi didn’t like what he saw. His usually sharp gaze was foggy, his breath coming a little too fast.
“You need to sit out.” Niragi’s voice was rough, his usual smirk absent. “You’re not okay.”
Chishiya blinked at him, silent for a moment before muttering, “I’m fine.”
“The hell you are.” Niragi’s scowl deepened. “You took a puck to the head, Chishiya. That’s not something you just shake off.”
Chishiya half smirked, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He didn’t argue, though, and that told Niragi everything.
“Just, take a breather,” Niragi said, his voice dipping lower, edged with something almost like concern. “We need you in one piece.”
For a long second, Chishiya just stared at him, expression unreadable. Then, finally, he gave a small nod.
That was enough.
But then the timeout was over.
As Chishiya skated off toward the goal, Niragi’s eyes followed, locked on him, he wasn’t about to let him face this alone.
The game ended finally, Tokyo’s Wilds had won, and Chishiya’s team was cheering loudly, all grouped together. Luckily they had avoided a huge fight like last year, despite Karube’s best attempts.The crowd erupted in cheers, the noise deafening as the players clapped each other's helmets in celebration. But for Chishiya, the victory felt distant, as if it were happening to someone else.
His legs felt like jelly, and his head was still throbbing, the dull ache behind his eyes refusing to fade. As his teammates celebrated, he took a moment to catch his breath. He couldn’t decide if he wanted to finally take a deep breath of relief or just puke up everything he'd eaten in the last 48 hours. Either option seemed like a plausible response to the mess his body was in.
Chishiya stumbled off the ice, his skates making sharp sounds against the smooth surface as he exited to the locker room. Niragi was right behind him, closely enough that Chishiya could feel his presence, with that familiar tension radiating off of him. It wasn’t unusual for Niragi to be so close, but tonight, it felt different. There was something about the way Niragi’s gaze never left him, the subtle shift in his posture that made it clear he wasn’t going to let Chishiya just brush off the injury.
“You good?” Niragi asked, his tone sharp but with an undertone of concern.
“I’m fine,” Chishiya muttered, not wanting to admit how much the hit had rattled him. He hated being the center of attention, especially when he knew Niragi was already sensing his weakness. But he could feel his body betraying him, the pain in his head growing heavier, his limbs sluggish as he made his way into the locker room.
“Yeah, you’re really fine,” Niragi snorted, half-amused and half-frustrated. “Look at you, walking like you’re about to pass out.”
Before Chishiya could respond with his usual dismissive remark, Aguni’s booming voice cut through the noise of the locker room. His eyes immediately locked onto Chishiya, narrowing as he took in his unsteady movements. He had been so caught up in the victory and the aftermath of the game that he hadn’t noticed the way Chishiya had been moving—or rather, not moving—during the final minutes. But now that the adrenaline was wearing off, the effects were clearer.
“Chishiya.” Aguni said, the sharpness in his voice unmistakable. “What the hell happened out there? You don’t look so good.”
Chishiya stopped in his tracks, unwilling to face the full brunt of Aguni’s concern. He could see the way Chishiya was favoring his head, the slight waver in his balance that wasn’t characteristic of him.
“Don’t ignore me, Chishiya.” Aguni stepped forward, his eyes sweeping over the younger man with that sharp, calculating look of his. “You took a hit. I saw it. What the hell is going on?”
“I’m fine,” Chishiya repeated, though the words came out weaker than he intended. “It’s just bruised. I’ll be fine.”
Niragi stepped closer, his hands planted firmly on his hips as he shot Aguni a look. “You know damn well that’s not true, don’t play dumb.”
Aguni frowned, his gaze flicking between Niragi and Chishiya, before his expression finally shifted into something closer to annoyance. “Fine. You’re not fine. But we’ve won, and that’s all that matters right now.”
Chishiya felt the weight of the words, the finality of them settling in his chest. His team had won. The chaos of the game had ended. For a moment, he felt that rare sense of accomplishment, but it was quickly overshadowed by the pressure building in his temples.
He tried to shake it off, but it only made things worse. His legs wobbled, and he found himself leaning heavily against the wall. The coolness of the locker room’s metal door felt like a lifeline, even as his body struggled to stay upright.
“That’s it,” Niragi said, his voice firm. “You need to sit down. We’ll handle the rest.”
Chishiya didn’t have the energy to argue. He nodded, his movements slow and deliberate as he finally sank down onto one of the nearby benches. He closed his eyes for a moment, breathing heavily, as the sounds of his team’s raucous celebration seemed miles away. They had avoided another pileup, a brawl that could have cost them more than just a victory. The victory was theirs, and it was sweet—so sweet, that for a moment, Chishiya almost forgot about the headache pounding at his temples.
Almost.
Aguni was standing off to the side now, his arms crossed over his chest. He was no stranger to winning, no stranger to pressure, but there was something about seeing Chishiya like this, vulnerable, that didn’t sit well with him. He wasn’t used to it, and though he hated to admit it, he felt that familiar tug of protectiveness that came with being the coach. Chishiya might not have wanted it, but Aguni would make sure he was okay. Aguni finally nodded and left, telling Chishiya he’d be sending in the team’s medic in a while.
Chishiya nodded and closed his eyes again, leaning back, letting the noise of the locker room fade away. It was a victory for the team, but for him, it was a reminder of how quickly things could change. Then, Niragi was sitting next to him. Against his better instincts, Chishiya felt himself slowly ease into relaxation.
“I’ll be fine, I just need some time,” Chishiya said quietly, hoping that Niragi wouldn’t pull away, taking his warmth with him.
"You really think I’m going to leave you like this?" Niragi's voice was softer than usual, but it still carried that slight biting edge. “You're not fooling anyone, you know."
Chishiya blinked slowly, trying to push back against the dizziness and the exhaustion, but the words hit him harder than expected. His hand moved instinctively to his head, pressing against the growing pressure, and his eyes fluttered closed for a moment, not trusting himself to hold it together.
Niragi sighed, a low, almost exasperated sound. “I know you’re trying to be all cool and aloof, but I’m not an idiot.” He paused, his fingers tapping lightly on the back of Chishiya's neck, a silent reminder of his presence. “You’re hurting, Chishiya. I can see it.”
Chishiya didn’t respond right away. He didn’t want to. Didn’t want to admit how the blow had rattled him, how the exhaustion was creeping in so fast he felt like he might fall apart at any moment.
But Niragi wasn’t waiting for a response. He was already moving, sliding behind Chishiya and pulling him into an embrace, his arms wrapping around him securely. The sudden closeness was unexpected, the warmth of Niragi's body pressing against his back sending an unfamiliar sensation through him.
For a brief second, Chishiya stiffened, every instinct screaming for him to pull away. But then he heard Niragi’s breath, deliberately slow and loud, like he was trying to steady them both. The sound was oddly soothing, the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest a grounding force in the chaos of Chishiya's mind. Niragi's presence, the solidness of his arms around him, made him feel less like he was floating through space and more like he had something to hold onto.
Against his better judgment, against everything that told him to keep his distance, Chishiya felt himself relax, just a little. His body, which had been trembling slightly from the shock and tension of the game, seemed to soften into the embrace. For the first time in what felt like forever, there was no sharp edge to the world around him. There was just the slow, steady comfort of Niragi’s arms.
“I’m not letting you go through this alone,” Niragi murmured, his voice low but unwavering. “You’re not some machine, Chishiya. You matter. And I—” He hesitated for a moment, like he was grappling with something he didn’t quite want to say. “I care about you. More than you know.”
The words hit Chishiya harder than he expected, more vulnerable than anything Niragi had ever said to him before. For a moment, all he could do was stay still, processing the confession. It wasn’t like Niragi to be this open, this raw. But there was no mistaking the sincerity in his voice. It wasn’t just the usual playful banter or the teasing he was so known for. There was something real behind those words, something Chishiya hadn’t expected.
He didn't know how to respond. Part of him wanted to shrug it off, to make some sarcastic comment to deflect the intensity of the moment. But another part of him, the part that had been worn down by the game, the fight, the pain, found it hard to hold onto his usual detachment.
Instead, he leaned back a little more, sinking into Niragi’s embrace just slightly, his breath evening out as he allowed himself to accept the comfort being offered. It was a quiet gesture, but it spoke volumes.
Niragi’s arms tightened around him, and for a moment, Chishiya forgot about the pain in his head, the dizziness, the rush of emotions he wasn’t ready to confront. There was just this, just the two of them, a rare moment of peace between them.
"You don’t have to say anything," Niragi murmured, his voice softening as he tucked his chin over Chishiya’s shoulder. “But just know that I’m here. I’m not going anywhere."
Chishiya closed his eyes, feeling the weight of the words settle into his chest, mixing with the exhaustion and relief. The world outside was still loud, still filled with the echoes of the team’s victory, but in this moment, it was just Niragi and him, the two of them sharing a quiet understanding.
It wasn’t something Chishiya was used to, this kind of closeness. But as Niragi held him, as his breathing became a steady, calming rhythm in his ear, Chishiya felt something inside of him shift, just a little.
Maybe, just maybe, he didn’t have to go through this alone after all.
Three weeks later and a concussion diagnosis, Chishiya was feeling better. Though the memory of Niragi’s arms around him lingered like a quiet ache. He’d allowed himself to heal, but it hadn’t been easy. Every time he thought he could push it away, he was reminded of their moment. Niragi’s strength, his arms around him. Their shared quiet breaths.
The sense of boiling frustration turned into something else. It was warm and light. And Chishiya loved the feeling. The gift exchanges reflected this, and had changed entirely, A roll of fresh tape when one of Chishiya’s was running low. A small packet of heat pads was left on the bench after a particularly hard training session for Niragi. A spare pair of gloves slipped into Chishiya’s locker on a day Niragi knew the ice had been unforgiving. Nothing was said, but everything was understood
Then, one day, Niragi found something new—a small charm, tucked neatly beside his skates. A tiny silver blade, barely an inch long, attached to a keyring.
He held it between his fingers, running a thumb over the smooth metal. It wasn’t flashy, it wasn't obvious. It was just… thoughtful. Whatever message their gifts had turned into, Niragi wasn’t sure. The only thing he was sure of was that he wanted it to continue.
Then, came Niragi’s showcase.
The rink was buzzing with energy. The stands were packed, the usual mixture of fans, coaches, and teammates filling every corner of the ice rink. Chishiya stood near the edge with Kuina, watching as Niragi warmed up, dressed in a sleek black and silver skating outfit.
It wasn’t that he had never seen Niragi perform before, he’d witnessed Niragi’s drive on the ice, his reckless speed and competitive nature, but tonight felt different. There was a quiet intensity about Niragi that had shifted in the last two weeks, like he was moving through something deeper. Something personal. It wasn’t just about the performance anymore, it was about something that had been building up for a long time.
Chishiya couldn’t help but wonder if it was the same for him.
He watched as Niragi adjusted his skates, taking a moment to stretch, his eyes closed for a beat. There was a calm to him now, an ease that hadn’t been there before. It was like he had shed the brashness for a moment, focusing all of his energy into the glide of his blades, the art of movement. Chishiya couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Niragi so... vulnerable, even in his confidence.
The lights dimmed, signaling the start of the showcase. The audience hushed, and Chishiya's heart stuttered for a moment. Niragi skated onto the ice, effortlessly gliding across the surface, his movements graceful and controlled. The music started—soft, haunting notes filled the rink, echoing off the walls—and Niragi fell into it. Every move, every spin seemed like an extension of something inside of him, something that only he could fully understand. It wasn’t the sharp aggression that Chishiya was used to; it was a raw, fluid emotion that poured into every twist of his body, every jump.
Chishiya stood there, watching Niragi, and for a moment, he felt something shift inside of him, something he couldn’t name. It wasn’t just the beauty of the performance that had him captivated—it was the way Niragi seemed to be laying his soul bare on the ice, exposing pieces of himself Chishiya had never seen before.
Chishiya could feel the weight of their unspoken words, the moments they’d shared, the quiet, almost tender moments in the locker room. Niragi hadn’t been afraid to show him a side of himself that wasn’t brimming with sarcasm or defiance. The side that cared, that needed to be seen, even if it was in the silence of their shared spaces.
The performance ended with a flawless spin, Niragi’s figure slicing through the air like a breath held too long. The audience erupted into applause, but all Chishiya could do was watch, his heart drumming in his chest, wondering if Niragi even knew what he’d just done to him. He wasn’t sure when the boundaries between them had started to shift, but it felt like something irreversible had happened.
When Niragi skated off the ice, breathless and flushed from the exertion, he caught sight of Chishiya standing by the side of the rink. His eyes softened when they met Chishiya’s, an unspoken question there. Chishiya didn’t say anything at first. He didn’t need to. The tension in the air had already said everything.
After a beat, Niragi made his way over, his skating light, his posture still strong from the performance, as he exited the rink. Kuina said something about finding Ann, and drifted off. The showcase continued, But Niragi paid no attention. There was something different in his eyes now—something that hadn’t been there before.
Chishiya couldn’t help but notice the small flash of silver on Niragi’s skates. The charm he gave him. Something in Chishiya’s heart fluttered.
“Did I impress you?” Niragi teased, his lips curling into that familiar smirk, though there was a softness behind it. He was still the same confident Niragi, but there was a vulnerability in his posture, his gaze that Chishiya couldn’t ignore.
“You did,” Chishiya replied, his voice low. “You’re... different out there. I didn’t expect that.”
Niragi chuckled, brushing a hand through his sweat-dampened hair, pulled into a high bun, some strands falling out. “I don’t usually show that side, huh?”
Chishiya shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. “No, you don’t. But maybe... you should. It suits you.”
For a moment, there was just a quiet pause, the two of them standing there, the noise of the crowd a distant hum in the background. Chishiya’s heart beat in his chest, and he realized, for the first time, how close they were standing. How close Niragi had been, even before this moment, even before the game and the quiet, vulnerable embrace they’d shared.
And then, almost without thinking, Chishiya moved forward. He was close enough now that his breath mingled with Niragi’s, and for a second, neither of them moved.
Niragi didn’t pull away. Instead, he met Chishiya’s gaze, his eyes steady, filled with that same intensity that had drawn him to Chishiya in the first place. And then, as if the world outside them didn’t exist, he leaned in, closing the distance between them.
Their lips met softly at first, tentative, like they were both testing the waters. But there was no hesitation in the way Niragi’s hands found their way to Chishiya’s back, pulling him in closer. Chishiya let out a breath, his body instinctively leaning into the kiss, his mind quieting. The kiss deepened, slow and steady, an unspoken understanding passing between them.
When they finally pulled back, breathless, Niragi rested his forehead against Chishiya’s, his hands still gentle, caressing his lower back.
“You’re still so damn hard to read,” Niragi murmured, his lips still brushing Chishiya’s.
Chishiya chuckled softly, the sound low and steady in the quiet of the rink. “Maybe that’s part of the charm,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper.
And for the first time in a long while, Chishiya didn’t feel the need to hide behind the walls he’d spent so long building. With Niragi, there was no need.