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“Take a few days off.” Mori said with a sickly sweet smile the next time Chuuya came in to report to him after a completed mission. The red head furrowed his eyes in confusion, tilting his head to the side a little.
“Why?”
“You’re a hard worker Chuuya-kun, I was just… persuaded to see that and give you some time off.” Mori’s smile didn’t budge as he folded his hands on the desk, fingers linked together.
“It was Dazai,” Chuuya realised. “What did he promise you?”
“I’m afraid that’s between me and Dazai-kun,” Mori shook his head. “Go on now, don’t let me see you back for a few days at least.”
“Sure boss.” Chuuya sighed, sticking his hands in the pockets of his coat and leaving the office silently. He locked his own office before he left, asking one of his subordinates to pass a message onto Akutagawa should they see him, even though he would message him and Kouyou himself.
“Fine day for a holiday, wouldn’t you say?” That unmistakable teasing tone interrupted his musings as he left the Port Mafia building.
“What the fuck do you want?”
“Chuuya,” Dazai gasped, a hand over his chest as though clutching a non-existent pearl necklace. “After I got you a few days off?”
“Yeah well you don’t do shit without a reason, do you? What’d you promise the boss?” Chuuya stalked up to Dazai, a stern look on his face.
“Nothing major,” Dazai waved him off. “You don’t need to worry your pretty head about it.”
“I kind of do if you did it to get me a holiday.” Chuuya scowled.
“Enough about that,” Dazai linked their arms and tugged him down the street. “They’re hosting the World Championships in Yokohama this year and I got us tickets.”
“What World Championships?” Chuuya huffed. “Since when do we watch this shit?”
“Figure skating. I got really into it recently.” Dazai said brightly.
“The fuck?” Chuuya muttered.
“Don’t want to come? I’ll give your ticket to Atsushi-kun or Kunikida-kun.” Dazai said coolly.
“Fuck you, I’m coming,” Chuuya snarled. “Where is this thing?”
“At the ice rink, chibi, duh.” Dazai said with a smile.
“I’m gonna kill you.”
They did eventually get to the rink and Dazai led the way to their seats after they showed them to the security to be let in. The seats were right above where a large group of photographers were stationed.
“Those are the judges.” Dazai pointed at a panel seated opposite them at the rink level, each person armed with a screen, pens and papers.
“Okay…” Chuuya crossed his arms over his chest, eyes scanning over every corner of the rink.
“We’re safe, I checked all the exit locations,” Dazai said nonchalantly. “Men’s singles short program is today.”
“Whatever that means.” Chuuya grumbled.
“You’ll see, one of them reminds me of you,” Dazai winked and Chuuya turned his head away, huffing as his cheeks coloured faintly. “We have to sit through a lot of other skaters before we get to that point though.”
“How long…”
“A few hours… give or take…” Dazai whistled and Chuuya whipped his head around, glaring.
“You piece of shit.”
“Relax, it’s fine,” Dazai leaned back in his chair. “Maybe it’ll inspire you.”
“What, the fucking skating?” He scoffed. “Okay.”
They really did sit there for hours as group after group of skaters went up onto the ice for their warm-ups and then did their short programs, not to mention the time it took to resurface the ice in between every two groups of six skaters. Eventually though, the last group was announced and Dazai sat up.
“There’s a Japanese skater in this group.” He informed the red head.
“Is he the one you meant?”
“No, I meant that kid.” Dazai pointed at a shorter blond skater who stomped onto the rink as soon as he was allowed to, tying his hair up messily as he skated and visibly cursing out his coach on the sidelines.
“What.” Chuuya gave him a look.
“He reminds me of you when we first met,” Dazai smiled cheekily. “Look at him.”
The blond skater unzipped his jacket and threw it in his coaches skate, racing off in a flourish and tossing a comment to the Japanese skater who appeared to laugh and reach out to ruffle his hair only to be evaded. The announcers introduced them as Yuuri Katsuki, the Japanese skater, and Yuri Plisetsky, the shorter blond one who was apparently from Russia.
“So you brought me here to look at this brat.” Chuuya deadpanned.
“Well he did remind me of you, but I think his skating is pretty neat,” Dazai shrugged. “Not to say Katsuki-kun isn’t good either, he is.”
“Sure.” Chuuya sighed, sitting back to watch the skaters. Yuri Plisetsky was due to go last so he settled in to watch the rest. The Japanese skater gave a particularly bold performance, one Chuuya would never have guessed to be his choice; the Kazakh skater’s jumps were the cleanest he’d seen and the distance he covered was impressive; the Thai skater had a flair some of the other lacked and his costumes were unique; the Canadian skater was too self-centred for Chuuya’s taste and he didn’t even want to talk about the Swiss Skater.
And then finally, the Yuri went up.
“He broke the world record with this program when he skated it last time.” Dazai murmured as the music started and Yuri glided over the ice like he was floating. Chuuya was captivated by the sheer flexibility he had and the way he raised his arms over his head when he jumped, unlike the other skaters.
His jumps alone were insane, it was as though he was suspended in the air, defying gravity not unlike the way Chuuya did with his own ability. Perhaps this was why Dazai had brought him here, because he saw Chuuya in this teenager. He didn’t want to consider the implications of that, him and Dazai had a complicated relationships with too many layers to dissect, especially right now while he was still sober.
So, he watched.
He watched as Yuri finished his routine and a big beam overtook the previous angry and sullen expression on his face and he slammed his fists down on the ice joyfully. His coach ruffled his hair and a stern-looking women brushed back a few stray strands. Yuuri seemed to call out a few words to him that Yuri responded to with a tongue out before his coach tugged him away to the Kiss and Cry.
“Impressive, isn’t he?” Dazai asked.
“Yeah,” Chuuya whispered. “He is.”