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❆❆❆
If you landed a triple axel on your gala program, I’ll think about giving you my number.
Precisely, that’s the only reason Fuma begs his coach to change a little bit of his routine for the World Championship’s Gala. His coach is currently side-eyeing him so hard, clearly questioning what’s inside Fuma’s head since the gala will be held just a week from now. On top of that, the gala will be held the evening after the championship concludes. Changing even for a little bit of your program’s routine, the casual gala one, is usually out of the question. But Fuma has been pestering his coach since yesterday—after they visited the championship arena—and it’s still going on today, while theyare about to start a bit of training.
“But. Sensei. Please? I just want to replace one salchow with this jump,” Fuma whines. Of course, this is funny because Fuma should be more anxious and focused on his World Championship debut than the gala performance.
Murata Fuma, 21, finally gets to skate in his first international competition. Quite old for a figure skater, but still, it’s a big breakthrough for someone who started competing in senior pool just two years ago. The buzzing excitement for the World Championship is still there, fiery and alive, burning inside his being. Yet, Fuma stumbled on another big chance of his life that he doesn’t want to regret. Here’s the most important step: getting his coach’s permission to tweak the gala program.
“Fuma. You’re kidding. Who’s in their right mind going to attempt that kind of jump for a program like yours?” Fuma’s coach sounds exasperated, and the older man sighs and rubs his forehead.
“But. I can try, okay? Please? Just help me submit the new program, and we’re good,” Fuma is determined, pleading for one thing only. “I promise this won’t affect my performance for the competition, Sensei. Just this time,” as the only child, Fuma already mastered the art of puppy eyes and coaxing.
“Please remember you said the same thing when you proposed your gala program,” the older man recalls.
Whoops.
Fuma grins, raising his hands as if he’s defeated. Guilty as charged.
“And this is going to be my last silly request. Please?”
Fuma knows he’s winning the argument when his coach gives him a rolling eye and shoo him. With a big smile on his face, Fuma runs back to the locker room to grab his shoes. It’s good his coach is not too nosy, asking him about the reason for that sudden change. That’s enough to make him hum happily while tying his shoes, getting ready to run through his newly revised gala program. He’s so giddy, jumping a little when he’s walking into the rink. There are two or three other skaters who share the rink with him. After a polite greeting and small chit-chat with them, Fuma glides to the empty side of the rink. His coach sits nearby, keeping a close eye on Fuma. Fuma grins, starting to move into one part of his gala routine. Smooth gliding, skating backwards, loop—just casual, freestyle choreography he made himself.
Skating without the music is empty and too quiet. The sound of the blades grits through the ice, all the echoes of landed jump, everything serves as the background while Fuma hums to himself. He’s counting one to four, four to eight, slicing the movement inside his head before trying to do it.
Then, Fuma glides faster, changing the momentum and jumping higher, spinning in the air. The triple axel. He holds his breath and—
—oh no. Fuma lost his footing and almost tumbled down face-first.
“Fuma! Kiddo, I told you!”
His coach shouts. Fuma mouthing ‘sorry’ and stops.
Definitely not a good idea.
❆
It all started two days ago, on the first day he landed in Prague. Fuma spent most of his training days in Korea and Japan. They flew from Seoul with lots of congratulations and good luck. Fuma felt heavy since the moment he sat down on the plane and reality hit; the world championship was real, and he was qualified to compete there. The long, long flight couldn’t even lull him to dreamless sleep. Fuma felt itchy, anxious. Felt like bile raised in his throat, made him jittery for hours. He almost couldn’t stomach all the meals during his flight and landed in Prague, starving, dragging his feet and luggage behind his coach.
“Nervous?” One of the ISU committee members who picked them up at the airport asked, noticing his tense jaw and shaking feet.
“Uh. Oh. Yeah,” Fuma tried to laugh it away.
“It’s common for the first timers like you,” said the man while giving him a pat on his back. “Good luck, hope you enjoy Praha and the competition,” Fuma felt the man trying to ease him a bit, so he was replying with a small smile and a ‘thank you’ before entering the van provided.
They had a few days before the official practice. A sightseeing tour won’t be hurt, though when the van drove through Prague’s streets, Fuma felt his stomach churn. In the end, they dropped him off with one of the event’s staff at the hotel. The staff member, a young woman, was very nice. She helped Fuma find his room, telling him the nearest convenience store and restaurant if he wanted to stroll around. She told Fuma that the rink provided by the committee for all the athletes competing was nearby, only a short walk away.
So, the most logical way to ease all the tension (by Fuma’s logic) was skate the anxiety away. He walked after a short nap, an even longer shower, and managed to eat some bites of a protein bar. His shoes were inside the bag slung over his shoulder. Fuma gripped his phone, looking in the direction, and thankfully, he found the arena.
It’s almost 8 P.M., and the sky has already darkened. When Fuma reached the arena, a familiar cold breeze tickled his face. There were other skaters, not-so-familiar faces around. Fuma dropped his bag and started warming up before hitting the rink. His eyes wandered around. He knew that one girl was a Georgian athlete and another tall boy from Germany, Riki, whom he met at a short training camp in Korea. One tall, fish-like guy just waddling into the rink—that’s Euijoo, they share the same choreographer—saw Fuma and waved his hand. Fuma smiled, returning the gesture before going back to his warming-up session.
When he finished the warm-ups, Fuma sat down on the bench. He pulled out his skating shoes and untied the laces. Fuma was only done with one shoe when he caught a whiff of a very nice smell, and one second after, someone was sitting down beside him.
“Sorry, hope you don’t mind sharing this bench,” a melodious, unfamiliar voice said, making Fuma stop. He turned his head.
Oh. It’s the Koga Yudai.
Fuma may or may not made a starstruck face, because Yudai—gracefully—giggled. Fuma knew him, not necessarily as in they were friends, but who didn’t know Koga Yudai? Silver medalist of the Milan Cortina Winter Olympics, the pride of the Japan National Team. Fuma heard about Yudai competing in the World Championship this year, but did not expect to bump into him like this.
“Sure, Koga-san,” Fuma slightly bowed his head.
“Fuma…right? This is your first international competition, huh?” Fuma nodded at Yudai’s words.
Yudai’s blonde tuft on his head and slight blush from the cold made him look impossibly younger. Fuma knew Yudai was a year older. Almost like Fuma, Yudai started his first senior competition in Japan when he was pushing 20. Though the stark difference was that Yudai swept all the local competition like a storm. Climbing up to the regional championship with ease, claimed gold after gold—and finally, his name was on the roster of Japan’s National Team for the Winter Olympics this year. They were on different levels. That’s why even though they started competing in the senior category in the same year, Fuma wasn’t in Yudai’s radar. The older launched himself to stardom, yet Fuma was climbing with his bare hands.
“Good luck, Fuma-kun,” Yudai suddenly smiled at him. His voice sounded so gentle at that wish. Fuma’s breath hitched. “Maybe we will meet on the podium,” again, with that smile and soft giggle. Yudai didn’t sound mocking or berate Fuma. If anything, Yudai sounded sincere and gentle, and it stirred something inside Fuma’s chest.
“Thank you, Koga-san. Good luck—I mean, yeah, good luck and take care,” Fuma tried his best not to sound too formal or strained. “You did great on the Olympics, hopefully you’re not spreading yourself too thin,” Fuma said, genuinely concerned since Yudai is competing back-to-back.
The response almost made Fuma forget how to tie his shoes. Yudai blinked, then both of his twinkling eyes disappeared when he laughed. It sounded melodious, again, stirred something unfamiliar inside Fuma. The way Yudai’s cheeks got redder, the way his shoulders shook, and his dainty hand covering the upturned, thin lips—Fuma almost said out loud that Yudai looked like an ice fairy or whatever magical deity on ice.
Fuck, he’s so pretty. Beautiful.
“I—mean it, Koga-san. Don’t want you to kiss the ice or anything like that,” maybe kiss me instead—but Fuma managed to hold himself for saying stupid things like that.
“No, no, of course! Thank you, Fuma-kun,” Yudai still giggling when he was playfully slapping Fuma’s shoulder. That made Fuma blink, whoa, he thought he won’t wash the jacket he’s wearing right now. “Wanna help with my warm-ups, then?” The older athlete asked, and Fuma felt it was impossible to say no.
He did another light stretch with Yudai after finishing, then put on his shoes. Until the older asked Fuma to help push his back as Yudai stretched on the floor, spread his long legs, and tried to touch his toes with both hands. Fuma crouched in the back, pushing between Yudai’s shoulders, right below his neck, where Yudai’s hair touched the skin.
“Ouch,” Yudai grunted, and Fuma stopped breathing, “harder please, Fuma-kun.” Fuma gulped. It’s an innocent request from Yudai for help. The younger nodded even though Yudai couldn’t see him. Press Yudai’s shoulders with both of his hands, controlling his strength.
“Like this? More?” Fuma made sure Yudai was fine, watching the side of his face, searching for any expression that looked like something’s not right. But, Yudai tilted his head to the side and winked at Fuma.
“You’re strong, one, Fuma-kun,” Yudai sounded breathless, chest touching the floor.
Fuma coughed, keeping his hands on Yudai’s shoulders until Yudai straightened his back.
“Thank you. Need help with yours, too? I can sit on your back—I don’t think I am strong enough to press you down like that,” Fuma shook his head at Yudai’s offer, and almost regretted it when Yudai pouted. He told Yudai he was done with his warm-ups. Yudai gasped after.
“Oh, sorry! I thought you hadn’t—let’s go to the ice!” Yudai smiled brightly. He’s stood up and waited for Fuma, stretching his hand towards the younger.
Fuma froze.
His body moved first, grabbing Yudai’s wool-covered hand. The older one giggled and led Fuma into the ice rink. When they stepped on the ice, Yudai was still holding his hand.
“Koga-san,” Fuma gently pulled his hand. Yudai looked confused at first, but then he was babbling ‘sorry’ and let go of Fuma’s hand—strangely, Fuma felt a little bit disappointed.
“I’ll go there,” Yudai pointed at the far corner. Fuma saw Yudai’s coach standing there.
“Okay,” unsure, Fuma wanted to say ‘thank you,’ but it was Fuma who was roped in to help Yudai. He stood awkwardly. But Yudai beating him, suddenly he squeezed Fuma’s cheeks and whispered;
“See you later, Fuma-kun.”
Fuma watched Yudai’s back as the older athlete glided further. It was cute when Yudai suddenly twirled and looked back at Fuma, waving his hand. Fuma, unsure what to do, waved back until Yudai, facing away, skating in front of his coach. It took Fuma longer to realize that he should start, too. Almost gingerly, Fuma glided away to the nearest empty corner.
Oh. The anxiety had already dissipated. Fuma touched his chest, only to feel his heart somehow warmer with a faster, steadier rhythm.
He felt lighter, and for a moment, he forgot the encounter with Yudai earlier. He tried to skate one part of his program, landing a salchow smoothly. He paused a bit to glance at Yudai’s side. Fuma saw Yudai gracefully gliding on the ice; it was almost as if he did ice dance instead. Yudai jumped effortlessly, landing after a quad. Whoa, that was definitely a show off. He caught Yudai glance at him, and Fuma almost missed the older throw him a wink before skating fast and making two jumps back to back.
Fuma didn’t wanna lose his face, though. He was back to his own routine, the strong glide, toe-touch, and spin. Then he moved fast to land another salchow, and then a lutz. Fuma heard someone’s ‘woah’ not far from his corner. Maybe another skater, maybe one of the committee members who were supervising the arena.
“Fuma, keep your form. It’s a terrible lutz!”
Well, there was his coach, standing on the side. Finally, he came back to monitoring every Fuma’s movement on ice. He’s skating part by part of his short program. Eating every pointer by his coach, Fuma gasped after his fourth run. This was not even his full program. The big, ugly mud-like anxiety was crawling back. Fuma stopped, gripping the cold, steel rail on the side. When he raised his head, he saw Yudai doing a layback spin, followed by an effortless triple axel. There’s a small crowd cheering after Yudai—most likely Yudai’s team or skater friends. He’s moving like the ice always got his back, no stumble, no awkward landing. Breathtaking, as if he’s a deity carved from the ice itself.
Well, on top of that, Yudai did it all with a smile. A beautiful smile. Fuma couldn’t even make all of the movements in Yudai’s program. What he knew was that Yudai looked beautiful doing all of that.
Unfairly beautiful.
“Ouch!”
Fuma jerked and hissed in pain. His coach, standing on the side, slapped his head. Fuma grinned, knowing that maybe he was spacing out and ignoring his coach.
“He’s a monster, Fuma. You’re competing with him,” it was about Yudai, the moniker from his coach sounded wrong. Yudai was not a monster, well, he was a prodigy, and of course, it’s scary to see someone doing all those jumps perfectly.
“Yeah,” Fuma swallowed all of his words, choosing to keep them for yourself. “Do you think he’s going to get the gold?”Last year, Yudai’s score was just a few points behind the gold medalist. The public ranked him among the top contenders for the first podium.
“Silly, you should be more focused on your chance to snatch it,” his coach scolded him again.
Well, of course, Fuma wanted the gold medal. He wanted to taste the glory, stealing the spotlight as the newcomer with so much potential. Though the desire suddenly got another competition when Yudai turned his head, their eyes met again. Yudai smiled, flicking his blonde hair sassily—and Fuma unconsciously smiled wider.
Fuma wanted to snatch something—or rather, someone else’s attention.
Well. This is… bad.
He’s lucky his coach didn’t catch it. After a short discussion (where his coach pointed out what Fuma was lacking in his program), Fuma finally left alone. He lost track of time; maybe it had been two hours. Only Yudai was left on the rink; he didn’t even get the chance to greet Riki and Euijoo. The small crowd earlier had disappeared. He heard the blade on ice get closer, then someone—Yudai—poked his back. Fuma turned, wearing a smile. Maybe a little bit too fond.
“You don’t look like you just finished hundreds of short programs over and over,” Yudai giggled. Fuma noticed that Yudai was a giggly, adorable person.
“I’ve got a great endurance, Koga-san,” Fuma kept the politeness, because even though Yudai was very friendly, he was still older than Fuma.
“Yudai.”
Fuma blinked, “oh?”
“You can call me…Yudai. We’re about the same age, right? It feels weird if you talk that formally,” Yudai somehow looked shy, his eyes avoiding Fuma.
Just when Fuma thought he couldn’t be more…what, adorable?
“Okay, Yudai-san,” Fuma obliged.
Yudai coughed. “Anyway. Still want to practice? Or you’re going back to your hotel?”
“Oh. Maybe—I want to practice my jumps a bit.” However, it’s tempting to ask Yudai what he wants to do after this. Fuma didn’t forget that the whole affair was about him competing in the world championship. “And you?” Fuma asked him back.
The taller moved to lean on the steel railing, arms crossed on his chest. His lips formed a pout. Fuma tilted his head, amused. This was the guy called ‘monster’.
“Let me monitor your jumps, then?” Yudai jumped a little, like a kid with a big idea.
“Ah, but…okay?” Fuma wanted to decline, but Yudai cheered, and it’s impossible to refuse—right?
Then Fuma found out that Yudai was even stricter than his own coach.
It’s Fuma third round of trying to land a triple axel smoothly. Yudai barked, stern and relentless. The older one pointed out that Fuma’s toe was not in the right position and that his jump lacked power and certainty. His words were sharp, cutting straight to the point where Fuma should do better. Fuma only got minutes to rest before Yudai clapped his hands and called him to practice again. Yudai had eagle eyes; it’s like he knew all of Fuma’s movements beforehand. The unnecessary push during the jump, where Fuma’s legs should be more relaxed and tensed in the right place, was something that Fuma himself often overlooked.
On the fourth round, Fuma groaned when he slipped and fell on his back.
“God—Fuma! Are you okay?” Yudai hurriedly approached him, hovering above Fuma.
“Am I dead?” Fuma was dizzy. His eyes were full of Yudai, and when he took a breath, all he smelled was Yudai. “Hi, Angel of Ice,” the words slipped so easily from Fuma’s lips, and he could see Yudai’s cheeks flushed even more. Fuma wasn’t a flirty type, but maybe this time he could…do something more than being awkward.
“I’ll kill you myself, you silly.” Yudai slapped his chest, then smiled when Fuma laughed. “Get up, you’re going to catch a cold. We’re facing each other next week,” with another hand, Yudai nudged Fuma’s arm, urging him to get on his feet, and reminded him about the upcoming competition—right, Fuma forgot about it when he saw Yudai this close.
Fuma kept his lips sealed, but he was grabbing Yudai’s wrist. The blonde blinked, but somehow he caught on what’s inside Fuma’s head when he said;
“You’re very nervous, aren’t you?” Yudai used a soft, almost cooing tone with Fuma. “That’s why you’re messing up half of your jumps,” this time, Yudai didn’t talk like a coach, but more like…a friend?
Fuma huffed, pulling his back until he was in a sitting position. It’s cold and uncomfortable, but Yudai didn’t move. Yudai kept his hand on Fuma’s chest, while Fuma was still grabbing his wrist.
“Yeah. It’s nerve-wracking,” Fuma laughed, but then Yudai pulled him to stand.
Fuma stumbled to follow Yudai, as the older man grabbed his hand and led him on the rink without saying anything. For a while, they just glided side by side, until Yudai suddenly moved in front of Fuma and skated backwards—still holding Fuma’s hand. Fuma didn’t question him; his face broke into a small smile while Yudai giggled. They circled the rink, no words, just small laughs and exchanging places. Once it’s Fuma skating backwards, holding Yudai’s hand, then it’s Yudai’s turn to lead Fuma on ice, doing silly maneuvers like a kid learning how to skate.
“Feel better?” Yudai asked after a few minutes passed.
“Yeah,” Fuma stopped, still holding Yudai’s hand. “Not sure I’d be going to land the axel smoothly, but—I feel better,” he laughed, almost missing Yudai’s pout.
“After I teach you that hard! You will land lots of triple axels on my watch!” It’s a threat, but Yudai looked pretty much harmless when he said it. Fuma chuckled at that.
“Yeah—let’s just hope I don’t mess anything up. Anyway, it’s late…I think we should go back,” Fuma noticed how empty the arena was.
They glided off the rink, carefully walking on the floor and reaching the locker area. Fuma sat on the bench, and Yudai followed. They made a quick way to change their shoes back, and put the skate inside the bag. Yudai and Fuma exchanged some small talk until they finished and finally walked to the exit gate.
“I go here,” Fuma pointed to the right. Yudai frowned at that.
“Oh. We’re going to different hotels,” the older huffed.
“Ah, it’s okay…Yudai-san,” Fuma took a deep breath and gathering his courage, “may I…you know, talk to you more? About the jump and—anything?”
They were standing on the pavement, Prague's road getting quiet, and the night looming above them. The harsh light of the street lamp lit Yudai’s face, though Fuma couldn’t really make out what expression Yudai wore right now. Fuma grabbed his phone and opened the contacts to add Yudai’s number. But then, he heard Yudai giggling.
“I won’t give you my number,” Yudai said, with a smile. Fuma gaped, and Yudai giggled again.
“Wh-what?”
Yudai shrugged his shoulders, still smiling.
“If you landed a triple axel on your gala program, I’ll think about giving you my number.”
“Gala—why?”
“I know you’re going to land lots of hard jumps in your program, but I do want to see you make it until the exhibition gala. Deal?”
“But—”
“Aw, you don’t really want my number?”
Yudai batted his eyelashes and smiled. That sweet smile
That’s it. Fuma just agreed to Yudai’s terms, and they parted ways. During the walk back to his hotel, Fuma just remembered one important thing: his gala program involving him wearing a big ass Pikachu costume, how the hell was he going to land a triple axel in that silly costume?
(Fuma spent days after that begging his coach about the routine change for the gala, and trying to find out how to land a smooth triple axel in a clown costume)
❆
It has been three days since his request to change his gala program was approved by his coach. Now Fuma is back to the real deal: the championship. It’s the official practice day, where the athletes competing are doing their practice round on the rink open to the public. The real competition won’t start until tomorrow, but the official practice carries the same nerve-wracking weight. During this practice session, they wear their costumes and practice the programs one after another under the audience’s eyes. It’s the time for show off, asserting dominance—in Riki’s language—on ice.
Usually, the athlete will show off their hardest jumps, aside from getting to know the rink, they will skate later. There will be the press, especially highlighting the favorite athletes, and fans of the big names, or just general figure skating enthusiasts. Nerve-wracking, of course. The spotlight will fall on the newcomers, too, like Fuma.
Right now, it’s the men’s category’s practice schedule. Fuma walks beside his coach. He’s got into the early group to practice. Wearing his black costume, Fuma takes a deep breath to calm his nerves. The thrumming inside his ears and chest is getting louder; Fuma almost can’t hear his coach’s words.
“You’re on the favorite list to get on the podium,” his coach whispers to him when he reaches the side of the rink.
“What?” Fuma gets dizzy, trying to keep his balance on the skate.
“Yeah, kiddo. You’re one of the favorites even though you’re a newcomer. Keep your chin up,” the pats on his back ignite not only his desire to win, but also the anxiety.
When Fuma turns his head, his eyes catch a familiar figure on the ice.
Oh. It’s Yudai. His blond hair is tied into a half ponytail, and he’s wearing a tattered white costume that hugs all the right places of his slender body. Yudai is practicing, yet all of his movements are score-worthy. The crowd erupts in loud cheers when Yudai lands a triple axel. At the same time, Yudai turns his head and winks to Fuma. At first, Fuma took a back, not sure if Yudai really winked at him. But after Yudai pouts and mouths’ good luck’, he just…knows.
All the anxiety melts away. That’s easy. Now Fuma’s eyes were fixed on Yudai’s graceful movement. That thrumming changes into a pitter-patter, steady ba-dump-ba-dump. Fuma feels fuzzy and warm.
Yudai ends his practice session, and he’s practically skipping towards Fuma. He pats Fuma’s shoulder.
“See you on the podium, Fuu-chan.”
Then, Yudai walks away.
Fuu-chan.
Fuma doesn’t really remember how the hell he’s finally stepping on the ice, gliding and skating half of his short program, because his brain just stops functioning at Fuu-chan. Of course, he’s still 100% pouring himself into the competition, but Yudai just came barging like a very festive firework. When he jumps, Fuma searches for Yudai on the bench. The older person claps and smiles.
Fuma lands an extra jump just for showing off after that.
His turn ends after Fuma finishes one part of his free skate program. He’s skating to the side and meets with Yudai, who’s leaning on the rink border.
“You did great. I should start to worry that we’re going to compete for that gold,” Yudai giggles while Fuma steps out of the rink.
Fuma hums, “If we’re sharing the podium, you’ll have to say ‘yes’ when I ask you for a date.”
Now it’s Yudai’s turn to gape while Fuma smiles at him.
“Don’t be too cocky, Fuu-chan. You still have to land that jump on Gala,” Yudai tilts his head, clearly trying to gain the upper hand.
The younger athlete chuckles, stepping out of the rink. He walks closer to Yudai and whispers right in Yudai’s ear, “If I win a medal and land the jump on my gala program, you owe me a date, Yudai.”
Yudai coughs and gets flustered. Fuma considers this his personal win. Though his heart jumps like crazy and his hands feel clammy, he shoots his shot. Yudai’s expression is something Fuma wants to keep in a photograph. The older athlete’s lips slightly open, his eyes widen, and his cheeks are red like a full-bloom rose. Paired with Yudai’s white costume and pretty hairstyle, he looks beautiful.
“Okay. Better you skate perfectly and win, Fuu.”
When the crowd’s and camera’s attention shifts towards another gold contender, Yudai leans closer.
Fuma feels something warm touch his cheek.
He almost faints.
Things get blurry in the background after that. Fuma only gets to remember Yudai walking away with a small ‘good luck tomorrow’. The official practice ends by noon, and the rink is cleared and prepared for tomorrow’s competitions.
❆
Fuma watches as Yudai steps on the podium, first place, with that shiny gold medal hanging on his neck. Yudai looks a thousand times more dazzling than the gold itself. He can’t help it. Fuma smiles widely while the world cheers for Yudai’s first gold in the World Championship. He deserves it.
Yudai’s programs today were exhilarating. Both the short program and his free skate. Not only his perfect jumps, but Yudai is showing off his impeccable step sequences. Fuma remembers how the commentators regarded Yudai very highly, countless times calling the athlete ‘beautiful’. The very most fitting praise for him.
“Fourth place, huh. Daaamn, you really got your shit.” Riki, the German skater, stands beside Fuma and elbows him. All grins and looking so happy despite only placing sixth.
Yes, Fuma finished in fourth. Just a point away from the bronze. Of course, he had gone through the ‘what ifs’ phase after the final score was announced. What if he added one lutz, what if he made the step sequences more complicated, what if he got an extra point in the technical aspect? Though it doesn’t matter anymore, not really, after his coach almost cried in joy seeing Fuma get fourth place on his international debut. Even scoring higher than one of last year’s medalists.
“Thanks, Riki,” Fuma nudges the younger athlete. Riki is growing too fast, apparently. Now they stood at the same height. Last year, Riki only reached Fuma’s chin. His growth spurt is scary.
Yudai waves his hand towards the audience, bowing and showing his medal. But for a split second, Yudai’s gaze locked on Fuma’s direction. Fuma catches the tilt, and he replies by raising both of his eyebrows, waving his bouquet and Pikachu stuffed toy. Yudai giggles, and even from afar, Fuma can hear the tinkling sound. He silently agrees that Yudai looks amazing, standing on the highest podium with that smile.
Gone from the podium for his first international competition, yet he’s not that sad. Definitely, he’s going to practice harder—because one day, he wants to hear Yudai’s laugh on the podium.
Fuma touches his cheek—exactly on the spot where Yudai kissed him yesterday—and the warmth spreads throughout his body.
The celebration is very festive. Fuma can’t even keep hiding in the corner because the journalists are somehow swarming around him. They point their lenses at him, asking too many questions he stumbles to reply. His coach and staff help him to survive the interviews. Fuma is still in limbo, in disbelief.
“Your first international competition was splendid! Are you planning to aim for the Olympics?” One of the journalists was asking him.
“About that—yeah. I…think I will try harder. Please watch over me,” Fuma bows politely, laughing and hugging the Pikachu plushie closer to his chest.
His eyes somehow wander until they find Yudai in the sea of cameras and flashes. Yudai turns his head, looking at him.
“Yes. Olympics. And a gold medal for my next World Championship,” he adds, smiling back at the journalist.
Fuma ends up answering roughly ten questions. While he’s saying goodbye to the journalists, Fuma glances towards Yudai. The gold medalist is busy with the crowd around him. Fellow athletes, colleagues, his team, Yudai is definitely not going to be available for at least an hour after this, most likely, more. He looks dazzling, still—or maybe it’s just Fuma’s rose-colored glass.
“Fuma-kun, we will definitely be looking forward to your gala performance!” While Fuma waved his plushie towards the audience, one of them suddenly cheered at him.
Ah, yes. The gala. He’s grinning sheepishly.
❆
World Championship Gala is a grand event. Usually, the event will be held the day after the competition. Athletes perform well on dopamine and adrenaline after the real championship, with a less rigorous routine, even you’re allowed to spice up your performance as you please. It’s more like an artistic outlet and a way to have fun on ice.
This is not Fuma’s first exhibition gala. In fact, he’s already lost count of how many times he’s skating for the festive exhibition. Fuma loves the exhilarating sensation of performing during an exhibition gala. Less tension, more laughs, louder cheers. After a stressful competition, doing a gala performance feels like a party, doing the thing you love. A passion project, an outlet for skaters to let the world see what’s beyond their medals.
Fuma loves skating the most, and performing in a gala gives him a serotonin boost. That’s exactly what Fuma initially wanted to share for his gala performance tonight—something he never done before.
“This…is your costume?”
“Yep.”
Fuma grins when one of the staff backstage asks him—in disbelief—about the big, yellow Pikachu costume.
Fuma loves figure skating and Pokémon. Hence, he wants to combine two things he loves the most. Of course, it was a funny idea before. But after Yudai’s challenge, Fuma now feels nervous. Even more nerve-wracking than the real competition yesterday. Combining figure skating and Pokémon as a gala performance may be Fuma’s biggest achievement, or his biggest downfall.
The staff looks questioning of all of Fuma’s decisions when he helps Fuma put on the costume. Well, Fuma too, questions himself. His coach arrives just in time, after Fuma finishes his costume. In his restricted view, Fuma can see his coach exasperated.
Fuma looks ridiculous inside that costume. It’s not the inflatable one, but a full plush that is quite heavy—big head, large belly. The only opening is through the costume’s eyes. Though Fuma wants the costume to be as accurate as the real Pikachu, for his performance and safety, he ends up wearing one with longer legs.
“You’re going to perform in five minutes,” his beloved coach helps Fuma walk. Wearing this costume and a pair of skates is challenging. Fuma wobbles, trying to not trip over his own feet.
“It’s too late to withdraw this program, right?” It’s a hypothetical question, muffled behind his silly costume.
His coach doesn’t answer. Fuma sees him shaking his head.
“Landing a double in this costume would be a miracle itself,” his coach's words make Fuma snort.
Yeah. It’s show time.
“And now, a very fun program from one of our new faces—Murata Fuma!”
The emcee’s sound booms, followed by loud cheers. Fuma walks through the alley towards the rink. A
camera follows him. Fuma waves his hands—well, small hands of this costume. His heart pounds. When he’s on ice, under the spotlight, the whole venue erupts. Laughs, cheers, whistles—Fuma wishes he could find Yudai. He starts gliding, waving his small hands. Fuma wonders what those commentators will say about his performance.
Then, the music starts. Fuma stops scanning the crowd to find Yudai. He’s back, focusing on the program. It’s a lighthearted composition. Like a Pikachu running around, dancing a little bit, then jumping on the soundtrack. Fuma glides and steps as he has been practicing for weeks. Enjoying the cheers and laughter following every gesture he makes in that costume. Of course, the motion range is much smaller; Fuma has to be extra cautious. At one point in the program, Fuma stumbles. He’s lucky the fall looks like part of his routine. He plays along when the audience laughs and claps, wiggling on ice before getting up.
Right, this is the part he should jump a combination of double and triple.
Fuma glides, pushing his body to gain enough momentum. First toe loop, he jumps and lands successfully. Next, he skates backwards. This should be the triple jump.
Fuma takes a deep breath.
And, jump!
At first, he feels his body spinning in mid-air. One, two, three…then his feet touch the ice with that familiar crack. Oh. Oh. He nails it. The jump.
Fuma laughs behind the headpiece of that yellow mascot. Feeling lighter, he speeds up and dives belly-first, sliding on the cold ice. The ending part, he improves it a bit. Fuma laughs and laughs, wiggling with his costume. The music ends, and Fuma hears the deafening cheers afterward. He struggles to stand, waves at the crowd, and skates to the side. Fuma pushes the headpiece off, grinning while looking around. There’s his coach, applauding him with a somewhat proud look. He can’t really hear what the emcee says, Fuma just bows and slides off the rink.
Before one of the staff members approached, Fuma heard hurried footsteps. He turns his head and, finding Yudai, literally runs.
“Fuma!”
The older athlete wears a black version of his full skate program costume. Beautiful, as always. Yudai eyes him like Fuma just won a war. Though Fuma never prepared for this, Yudai jumps and hugs him.
“Oof!” He can’t keep the balance and falls back. Luckily, the costume is big and plush enough to pillow their body. Fuma laughs, yet Yudai whines—for God’s sakes.
“You didn’t tell me that your gala was gonna be—“Yudai gulps, “—like this!”
Fuma feels his head spinning, and his heart leaps out. Awkwardly, with the short costume arm, he tries to pat Yudai on his back. Though it’s only reaching the elder's waist. Okay. Yudai huffs, pouting at Fuma.
“But I landed the triple ones, right?” Fuma boasts a bit.
“And almost break your legs!”
“Hey, I didn’t! And I have fulfilled my promise.”
Yudai looks annoyed but relieved. He’s still on top of Fuma, jabbing his finger on the costume. “You’ve gotta be kidding me. You really did that, only for…my number? You're silly! We’ll meet at the association dinner later, when we’re back in Japan. You can literally just ask me…”
Well. Fuma blinks. Right. As a fellow Japanese national skater, they have to attend the gala dinner next week. Fuma doesn’t even consider that part.
“But,” Fuma disputes, “this means I can get your number early, right?”
Yudai still pouts. Fuma really wants to kiss that pout away.
“Yeah,” finally, Yudai agrees. He gets up and pulls Fuma’s hand. “Get up. I’ll help you out of this silly costume, and then you can get my number.”
Fuma grins; he’s surely caught the faint blush on Yudai’s cheeks. They walk hand in hand to the changing room. Fuma has a lot of questions and words inside his head, yet he chooses to take a glimpse of Yudai's face beside him.
Yup. Definitely worth all the triple axels he failed to land.