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Chapter Text

"Hey sis," a little boy called out, tugging on his big sister's skirt. He peeked out from around her legs and pointed to the people out on the ice. "What are they doing? Everyone else got off the ice. Why are they still out there?"

"Oh." His sister giggled and mussed up his hair. His hair didn't need the extra encouragement to go astray, it was already bad enough, so he pouted, crossing his arms. "Come on, Sakuya, we're going to be late to meet with you-know-who."

In retaliation, Sakuya dug his heels into ground, not wanting to leave yet. He still had his skates on and he wanted to be out there, gliding out across the ice like those other people. It was peaceful out there. He could forget, for a little while, that he still had bruises under his long sleeves. He could forget those barbed words of days long gone that still haunted him. He could forget that his sister, his beautiful older sister, was involved with a strange man. She was barely eighteen and had taken on the role his parents should have played for years now; she didn't deserve weirdos on top of that.

"You didn't answer my question," he told her, and shook off the hand she placed on his arm to placate him. "Why do we always have to leave?"

"This place is used by professionals," explained his sister on a sigh, looking down at her hand, "and we need to go before it gets too late, anyway."

Turning back to the rink, where the 'professionals' were skating, he frowned when he spotted a group of kids that couldn't have been much older than him. "And them?"

His sister glanced over to where he pointed and then clapped her hands, beaming with pride. "Aha! I knew it, you're interested." Before Sakuya could grumble about how much that wasn't the case, she informed him, "They're with the junior division."

Skeptical, he asked, "And they're professionals, too?"

"Well," she started, hands on her hips, "they're more qualified than you at any rate. Mr. 'I'm going to brood in my room with the radio blasting'. You're lucky our neighbors are understanding." She flicked him on the forehead and then gestured to his shoes. "We really need to get going, Sakkun, so hurry and untie those."

Making a face at the nickname, he took a seat on the nearest bench and began unlacing his skates. He kept his eyes trained on the ice, though. More specifically, the group of kids that had finished warming up and were practicing routines now. There were five of them, and they looked so happy that Sakuya found he couldn't look away. He wondered sometimes, what it would have been like to have friends, what his childhood would have been like if it hadn't been spent making excuses not to have any. Looking at them, he imagined it would have been a lot like what those five had.

It was like watching a scene play out from a fairy tale, realizing with a detached sort of mentality that he didn't have anything like that in his life. One of the boys slipped and there was another boy skating towards him already, arms outstretched. One of the others was laughing and pointing, while another seemed to be scolding his friend for that. Then there was one more little boy, slowly skating towards the pair, concern in every line of his face as he held out his hand for the fallen boy to take. He couldn't hear what they were saying, but the hand was accepted and the other boy brought him back to his feet.

A scene that he had watched unfold many times before, but something about this one made his heart thump a little faster. He ducked his head when the helpful boy glanced his way, giving him a little wave and smile - because that wasn't what he wanted at all. He wasn't a fan. He didn't need anyone's pity.

When he next looked up, skates off and set to the side, it was to a sight he hadn't expected. The boy was reaching out to him, eyes glistening in the stark lighting, before leaning into a spin with his back leg off the ground, his front bowing to the ice, his hands clasped together against his chest. It looked like a prayer. A prayer meant for him.

Suddenly his sister was poking at his cheeks, leaning in close as she asked, "Hey, are you blushing?"

He slapped his hand to his forehead, gasping, "Oh no, I think I have a fever!"

"No, no," she pinched his cheek and pulled, "you're definitely blushing. Did you see something pretty?" Her gaze swept over the ice and stopped on one boy in particular, the only one dressed in a simple track suit. The very one Sakuya had been staring at moments before. She's a creepy mind reader, he thought, covering his face with his hands.

"Let's go," he mumbled into his hands.

It took three years to learn to skate like that boy. Three long years of waiting for the chance to step onto the same ice as him. There was a lot he had cast aside to come this far, but he was ready for this moment.

To the reassuring click of his skates on the ground, he approached the edge of the rink. He was up next, so he took out the earbuds that kept out the noise of the stadium and let it wash over him. Giving the cheering and shouts the chance to become white noise as he sought out the familiar sight of his sister. She had made a huge banner for his first big competition and he tugged at the bow tie around his neck, cheeks going hot. Did she have to make my name that big? And what's with that smiley face? It was sticking its tongue out, mocking him. I'll show you, just watch.

Then, his gaze drifted in search of another face, one not nearly as familiar; but he needed to know. He had to make sure his mystery boy was here to see the show. He hadn't seen him in the hallways, so either he wasn't prepping for his turn or he wasn't here. And Sakuya would know; he had spent a good portion of his warm up time prowling every nook and cranny he could find in his pursuit of that boy.

With the sheer mass of the crowd, it was hard to spot one half-forgotten face. Still, he tried over and over to spot it until the other skater's turn ended and he didn't have the time to let his attention waver. It doesn't matter, he lied, if he's here or not, all that matters is giving the best performance there is. He straightened his button-down vest and smiled toward the judges.

When the music began, his smile faded away with the gentle lull of a violin and he reached for the ceiling, one hand over his heart as he pushed off against the ice. To the sound of None but the Lonely Hearts, he would waltz and enthrall. For the very audience that longed as much as he did for something out of reach. There weren't many jumps lined up, so he put his all into the story he wanted to spin before their eyes. A boy who had seen too much of a world's despair and yearned for better days. A boy who found those days and yet still something was missing. Something, or was it someone?

He still thought of that day, of that boy surrounded by his friends, and he was going to reach for that something with everything he had. His sister had balked when he suggested, Skate with me. Let's be a pair. He had thought that was the inevitable conclusion, but she had held up her hands and shook her head. That's not for me, Sakuya; you know I can't do that. Go out there and find your reason to skate. And here he was, set upon this stage. Set to seek that reason. But where was it?

It wasn't in the crowd. It wasn't in the competition. It was just him and his lonely heart skating out here on the ice, wanting for what wasn't and hating for what was. He was thinking too much, and it left him struggling to find the peace that usually centered him on the ice. He fumbled a jump and went sliding. Too far, it threw off the routine, but he salvaged what he could, not daring to look his sister in the eye. I'm sorry, Shizuka; I don't think I've found it yet.

Sakuya's first season had been a disastrous one; his standings had left a lot to be desired in the end. He had even considered taking a break from competition. To give his wounded pride a chance to recover. He needed to think over what his sister had meant, anyway, about finding his own reason to skate.

It was for the best, he had convinced his mind, but his heart gave a lurch at the idea. He didn't have enough experience, that much was obvious, and it was scary to think he had to go out there again without something to anchor him. In front of a crowd that size, it made him remember things he would rather forget. Why can't you be more like your sister? Shizuka is going to be prima soon, and what about you? What can you do? Stop wasting your time.

As foolish as he had been, he had been hoping to make that boy his rival and they would - they would be something to each other. Someone would see him and think, This person isn't a waste of time. He didn't care how long it lasted - ah, but that was a lie - he just wanted someone to see him for who he was and not the charade he had learned to put up.

"Let's turn that frown upside down!" Shizuka pinched the corners of his mouth and lifted them into a parody of a smile. "Ah, that's better."

"Knock it off," he mumbled through the awkward pull on his lips, pushing at her arms which refused to budge. "I'm thinking."

"You think too much," scolded Shizuka, "and that's half your problem." She grabbed for the remote and flipped to the news station. "Hey, you've got to hear this."

The reporter on the TV was standing in front of an outdoor rink, monologuing for the lone skater that cruised behind her on the ice. "As you can see, rising star for the senior division, Mahiru Shirota, is gearing up for the season ahead. He's already been seeded for the upcoming competition, and it is expected -"

Sakuya tuned the rest of the reporter's words out and focused on what was in front of him. It was his mystery boy, it had to be. His build had filled out in places and he was taller than his childhood days, but his boyish face hadn't changed. The same choppy hairstyle, too, like he had just rolled out of bed and couldn't be bothered to comb it. The same telling spin that he drifted into with ease and looked like a prayer, the one he had been longing to see for what felt like ages.

He hadn't realized he had kicked his chair over in his haste to stand. He had to get closer and make sure; it wouldn't do to believe a lie. The camera zoomed in on the skater and he could see dimples on rosy red cheeks as the young man spread his arms and twirled, so animated and warm looking that he was reaching out to touch before he could stop his betraying fingers. "It's him," he breathed, "it's really him." Mahiru Shirota, and he finally had his name.

"Whoa there, brother dear." His sister had her hands planted on both his shoulders, dragging him away from the television. "What do you mean it's him?" She sounded scandalized that she didn't know what was going on. "Shirota-kun's the leading skater these days, when did you -" And then something seemed to have dawned on her, a bright, knowing smile spread wide across her face. "Oh, it's him, isn't it? Your crush!"

"No," denied Sakuya, grudgingly taking his seat at the breakfast table when his sister forced him into it. "I want to beat him, that's all. You seemed really happy seeing those 'professionals' that day, so I'm going to prove to you I can be one as well."

Shizuka dropped into the seat nearest him, still grinning like a cat presented with a canary. "Oh, sure, sure. You keep telling yourself that, lover boy. Have you at least talked to him?"

Burying his face in his hands, he admitted, "No," but now he had a new goal ahead of him and he was going to change that - as well as his place on the podium. He would aim for the top, and when he was old enough, he would stand beside Mahiru Shirota.

Many posters and live streams for competitions later, Sakuya had come to one important conclusion: somewhere along the way he had become what he had promised he wouldn't - a Mahiru Shirota fan. He had to admit that after purchasing an embarrassing life-sized pillow of the skater, decked out in a glimmering costume that imitated the night sky. There were depths to how far one could fall, and he was pretty sure he hadn't so much as stumbled into this mess as took a flying leap right off the bridge.

His sister wasn't helping; she found the whole thing comical and kept supplying his fixation with innocent things. The worse part was she had told the one person he had wanted to stay out of his life, and the laughter hadn't stopped since. He was so glad he could be a source of amusement for those two, which he meant with every once of sarcasm in him, except it was getting to be ridiculous.

It did eventually stop being funny, but only after Sakuya had graduated high school. Only after he started taking his skating to a whole new level. Only after he found out that Mahiru Shirota would not be returning to the ice.

"In other news, four-time gold medalist, Mahiru Shirota, has announced an early retirement because of personal reasons. The reasons were undisclosed and it has been asked by his coach, Shuhei Tsuyuki, that any questions be directed to him. Coach Tsuyuki has made remarks that he was prepared for -"

Sakuya clicked off the news broadcast and sat in silence, glaring at the wall directly in front of him, the majority of it plastered in that stupid grin that he couldn't get out off his mind. Is he doing this on purpose? he wondered. Every time he closed in, managed to make up for lost time, Mahiru escaped.

Not this time. This time, he had a plan.

Chapter Text

Sakuya was watching old clips from past skating performances as he finalized his plans for the day. They were a compilation he had made throughout the years. Of his own performances, of course, but also of one skater that had always been on his mind: Mahiru Shirota. That led him to his plans for the day, which consisted of going down to the old skating rink where he had first met him. Well, 'met' was a relatively flexible word, so in his book that was their first meeting.

From there, he may yet discover some clues to where the elusive skater had disappeared in the void of the world. It would mark a week since Mahiru's retirement had been announced. He had scoured the internet forums devoted to the skater since, hoping for the reveal as to why that hasty decision had been made, but all he had managed to find were fans nearly as sad as him. Nearly, because he was on a whole other level when it came to how he felt about it. He was upset, angry, and that was what was fueling him to keep up the search.

Today was the day he would be out on the streets doing the searching. No more putting it off, thinking it had to be a mistake the reporter had made. Perhaps Mahiru's coach was daft; that was always a possibility, but the fact was, he had to face reality eventually. And the reality was that the answer to his question wasn't going to come to him. He had to go find it on his own.

He paused the latest clip on the television as Mahiru jumped, about to pull off a successful quadruple salchow. It was also his last. The last performance the skater had ever given on ice. It had won him silver when he honestly could have done so much better. Why didn't I notice, Sakuya had been scolding himself ever since, why didn't I think something was off?

Even Mahiru's expression looked pained as he unfroze the clip and let it play out. The song in the background breathed life into the story Mahiru had woven onto the ice. A song that spoke of love, loving the same person over and over. Each gesture, every flick of the wrist as Mahiru glided back and into another jump, called out to someone to come closer. Sakuya didn't know what Mahiru was thinking of at the time. But he did know that if this charade meant someone had broken his favorite rival's heart, there was going to be someone out there who wished they had made better life choices.

Reaching for the remote, he turned it off and grabbed his coat from where it was resting. He flipped up the collar, made sure he had his keys, and then made his way out into the early spring air. It should have been cherry blossom season, but there was still snow on the ground and it crunched underfoot as he walked to the nearest bus stop. It was fitting, he thought, that there should be no spring, no blooming buds. Not until he found the answer he sought.

The skating rink was full of kids learning how to skate this early in the morning. Excited squeals and happy parents clapping their hands in encouragement. Sakuya turned away from the sight, uneasy, and made his way over to one of the spectators sitting in the stands. It was someone almost as familiar as Mahiru to him. At least when it came to the world of skating. A big name skater that shouldn't have been so comfortable with just watching others skate from afar.

"Hey you," he called out when he was in arms distance of the man, "where's Shirota?"

The man titled his head, flipping long hair over his shoulder with a coy smile. "What a blunt fellow, I didn't peg you for one." Then in a musing, almost off-handed way, the man added, "As for Shirota ... well, Mahiru-kun has his own worries, yeah?" He placed a finger to his lips and winked. "Not my business, and my lips are sealed. Shuhei would murder me."

That went about as well as he had expected and he glanced about the rink for someone else to ask. It was a pretty big place, just as full as life as he had remembered it being in his childhood. Expectations for a place called Eve Paradise set the bar high perhaps, but the Alicein Corporation always rose to the challenge. He eyed the one oddball out and sighed. Mikuni Alicein had been a problem child in the world of skating for ages, but somehow he had taken home more gold than any other competitor so far. It was both inspiring and frustrating. Because with Mahiru gone, that meant two less worthy rivals to strive to overtake.

"Here's a hint, though," Mikuni decided to grace him with some advice. And straightening out of the slouch he had fallen into, Sakuya gave him his undivided attention. "You might try the local hospital. A little birdie told me Mahiru-kun is -"

He didn't wait for Mikuni to finish, already down the stairs and making a dash for the exit. Ideas of what could have happened flooded his mind, each one more horrid than the last. A hospital meant unpleasant things to him, and he didn't want Mahiru anywhere near one. Or associated with them in any way, shape or form.

Coming to an abrupt stop in front of the white building, he paced back and forth, debating whether he wanted to go in or not. His curiosity won out and he took that first step into the hospital. The air smelled crisp and strongly of antispetic, and he had to cover his nose to prevent bad memories from surfacing. He had a purpose for being here, he kept telling himself, pushing those intrusive thoughts away. And he wasn't leaving until he had that answer he was chasing.

It became tolerable with time, the smell was less noticeable and he dropped his hand as he approached the front desk, offering a winning smile to the receptionist who smiled back amiably. "May I help you?" she asked.

Sakuya nodded and placed a hand on the counter, leaning over a bit as he wondered, "Is it possible someone named Shirota has been checked in recently? You see -"

"I'm sorry, sir," the woman interrupted, apologetic. "If you're not family, that person is not taking visitors. You may place your name on the waiting list, but that's the best we can do at this point in time ..." She trailed off and inched the clipboard with 'waiting for approval' closer to him. It should have ended there, because he wasn't family of any sort, but Sakuya put on his best shocked face and covered up his eyes like he was getting ready to cry. "Sir?" she questioned worriedly. "I'm sorry, we really can't ..."

He gave a trembling sigh and said, "I understand," his hand falling listelessly to the side. "I ... I just wanted to make sure he was okay."

For a moment, she hesitated, but then she reached out and gently touched his arm, telling him, "He's been a long term patient, for the past year or so. But don't worry, his nephew is taking good care of him."

Nephew? Long term? For the past year? Tension easing in his body, he breathed out a relieved sigh and patted her hand. "Thank you for sharing that information." Then he abruptly turned and left, a grin spreading from corner to corner on his face. If all of that was true, he had no reason to linger here inside the hospital. He could wait for Mahiru to come to him.

Sitting outside on a bench that had a direct view of the entrance probably bordered on stalkerish behavior. Sakuya propped his elbow on one of legs and put his chin in his hand, because he honestly didn't care at this point. He wanted to see Mahiru one last time.

When he did finally spot him coming out of the hospital, palming at his eyes with his nose a bright enough red to see from here, he froze up and nearly missed his chance. Then Mahiru looked up and locked eyes with him; and like an electric shock to his system, he got up immediately.

"Shirota!" he shouted before his legs could catch up and move him forward. He almost tripped, but caught his balance and fixed his jacket with an embarrassed grin in place. "Hi," he admitted breathlessly when he arrived in front of Mahiru, who had waited for him. "I know you don't know me, but ..." He tapered off there, seeking the right words.

Mahiru tried to fill in the blanks, baffled, "A fan? Sorry, I don't have a pen on me."

"No!" Wait, that wasn't right. "Yes, no, I mean - yes, I'm a fan!" Sakuya slapped his forehead, frustrated he was already making this a mess, and ammended, "But I'm not here for your autograph. I ... er, I was wondering why you retired."

Drawing his coat closer about him, seeking warmth, Mahiru shook his head and explained, "That's private."

"Look, I get that your uncle's sick and everything, but why do you have to quit skating and doing what you love?"

Mahiru looked him right in the eyes, staring him down with that piercing gaze that had captivated him from the very beginning. He couldn't have left, even if he had wanted to leave. There was something compelling about the unspoken things in those eyes from up close. The angry fire in them was almost as alluring as that beautiful calm he had seen that day. It had him hanging on every word about to be spoken before anything had been said. All it earned for his waiting was a stressed, "It's private. Now, if you'll excuse me."

In most cases, Sakuya would have let the other person go and despaired at his lack of people skills. This was not a normal case, however. He reached out and caught Mahiru by the arm before he could walk more than a pace away, retracting his hand as soon as the other man glared at him. He held up both his hands, palms out and defensive, as he explained, "I understand if you don't want to talk about it. I'm ... I am a pretty big fan, though. It was just a shock. I couldn't believe it. Your skating," admited Sakuya, "has been an inspiration to my own. I took it a little hard when I heard." That was probably an understatement; his sister wasn't going to let him live that one down anytime soon, the phone call where his voice broke almost every other sentence.

At that, Mahiru gained a bit interest in the conversation, asking, "You skate, too?"

He took a bow, introducing with a flourish, "Sakuya Watanuki, at your service." When he stood back up, he held out his hand for Mahiru to take. "Say, want to see me skate circles around you?"

Bristling at the provocation, Mahiru opened his mouth to rebuke him most likely, but he surprisingly closed it and shook his head, mumbling, "I don't know why I'm saying this, but sure. Show me what you've got."

The way Mahiru's eyes darted from one end of the skating rink to the other, a wistfulness to the curve of his smile, it appeared he remembered this place as vividly as Sakuya did. The place where he, too, had started out. "It's been ages since I've been here," Mahiru commented, taking off his blade guards as he took to the ice, naturally gliding into a figure eight with an absentmindedness that most would envy but Sakuya did that and more. He admired. He could watch Mahiru all day.

This opportunity to skate with him was a chance he wasn't going to waste. There was a lot he wanted to convey and to know when it came to this person, but for now he was fine with warming up in silence as they got comfortable with each other's presence.

For whatever reason, Mikuni had cleared out the rink prior to their arrival, so the place was deserted aside from the blond man with a front row seat and a little doll sitting next to him. Sakuya could tell this was a set-up a mile away, but at least Mahiru hadn't taken it the wrong way. He skidded to a halt beside Mahiru and used one of his hands to comb back his hair, wishing not for the first time that his side curl would lay down flat and make a good impression for once. The tiny smile he wrangled out of Mahiru was worth the attempt, and he returned a wide grin as he told him, "Watch carefully now."

He was going to start here, right by Mahiru's side, and he lowered his head to keep his gaze to the ice as he breathed in deeply. He had been practicing a certain routine since it had first appeared on live television since he had been too focused on graduating to come up with his own. He had taken to it like a fish did to water, because of who it reminded him on every level. He hadn't thought Mahiru would ever pick a love song, but he had found it tempting and practiced it with an equal measure of zeal to match Mahiru's.

Now, to show that hard work and practice to the person that had always been his leading light. And as the music began in his mind, he pushed off from his starting point and spun with both arms held out. He glided slowly from one side to the other, his gaze flickering back to Mahiru and then to where he was going, concentrating on the first jump that would be cued at til the moment was right in the lyrics. From there the choreography took on a more powerful feel, more confidence with his chest puffing out and making him feel lighter than air with another spin with his arms wrapped around himself.

The salchow was the last jump he had planned, as the singer told the whole world yet again: the next I fall in love, it will be with you. He landed shakier than he had wanted to in front of his idol, but the rotation had been nailed and he had to give it to his legs, they had held up when his insides otherwise felt like jelly.

"What did you think?" He panted, rising from where he had ended up sitting on the ice, one arm around his raised knee for the dramatic pose he most liked. He stumbled getting to his feet, and would have lost his balance if Mahiru hadn't skated out to him and held out his own hand for Sakuya to take. He clasped the hand like a lifeline and pulled himself up, searching the other skater's face for what he thought. As expressive as Mahiru seemed on camera and on ice, at this moment it was closed off, an intentional blank slate. He didn't know whether that was a good or bad sign, but the fact that Mahiru hadn't let go of his hand had to mean something.

"I think," Mahiru started, having to stop to clear his throat because the emotions he was hiding had built in his voice, giving him away, "I think I really liked that. I've ... I've never had anyone ..." He stopped again, withdrew his hand and placed it to his lips. "No, what am I doing ... I should get going."

"Wait!" insisted Sakuya. "Tell me something. If I could give you another chance to return to the ice, would you take it?"

Confused, Mahiru told him, "You've already given me that, Sakuya."

Sakuya tried not to let that fluster him as much as it did, but he didn't think he succeeded. "No, I meant, well. Mahiru, would you like to be my coach?"

Mahiru blinked for a moment, not processing the request, and then hurriedly shook his head. "Are you kidding me? I don't have any experience with that."

Placing his hands on both of Mahiru's shoulders, Sakuya continued, "That doesn't matter. I'm going to prove something to you. To the world. Even if you retire, your place will always be on the ice."

With a wet laugh, Mahiru looked away, muttering under his breath, "I think you've already made your point. By dragging me here to tell me that."

"You came willingly!" protested Sakuya, placing his hands on his hips. "Don't you start with me."

"Oh?" challenged Mahiru, raising his eyebrow as he glanced back. "I thought it was my job to start with you. Aren't I going to be your coach?"

Gaping, not sure he was hearing correctly, Sakuya asked to make sure, "You're not lying?"

"Lying?" Scoffing, Mahiru crossed his arms in front of him and told him with certainty, "I'll make your life hell, so get ready."

It was too good to be true. Sakuya called his sister as soon as he parted ways with his idol, happily rambling about the encounter and how it had played out. She warned him not to get his hopes up. That he was placing too much faith in someone he had just met. It was a warning that went in one ear and out the other. Mahiru had promised him. He had even gotten a phone number out of the deal. Sure, Mikuni had laughed at him and the starstruck eyes he was making at Mahiru, but he was positive this was a good thing.

For him to think that about anything, his sister had to let him have this one. "Fine, fine," she conceded. "Hey, you're going to be late if you don't hurry. Tsubaki-san was wondering where you'd run off to now. I bet he's going to get a good laugh out of this one!"

Gasping for effect, Sakuya asked, "You would betray me, dear sister?"

"In a heartbeat. Come on, your crush is ridiculous. You better learn some restraint if you're going to have him as your coach."

That was a fair warning and he did take that one to heart. He didn't want to scare Mahiru off completely. And the one thing that bothered him the most: "You know, I found his uncle's ill today. I'm not sure how bad, but ... did I make the right decision?"

"He wouldn't have agreed," Shizuka reminded him, "if he thought it was the wrong decision. Want to know what I think?" He told her yes, because it would always be so, and she informed him, "I think he needs this opportunity as much as you do. Give yourself a break and let him help you. But remember, he's counting on you."

In what way Mahiru would be counting on, winning aside, Sakuya wasn't clear on that. He knew that he would try to be there, regardless, and to be his friend. Since that was all he had ever wanted from the start - a friend.

"Thanks, sis," he told her. "See you soon." He clicked the end call button and stared at his phone case for a moment too long. An image of the night sky, sparkling with stars. The image of a long gone costume that Mahiru had once wore. But now, unlike the night sky, he had a chance to get close to his shining star. Face flushing at the thought, he placed his face in his hands and groaned. What have I gotten myself into?

It was, simply put, hell that he had gotten himself into. Mahiru had come up with an exercise plan in a night's time and told him he wasn't allowed on the ice again until he learned balance above anything else. They had met up at a cafe to discuss the plan and there they sat, chatting over things unrelated to skating once Sakuya had agreed to the regime proposed. It felt odd, to be getting to know his idol this way. An unreal feeling, like nothing was quite real.

He resisted the urge to pinch himself and talked enthusiastically instead about one of his favorite bands that also happened to be Mahiru's. Music was important and it tied in with skating. It would one day come in handy to set up a baseline like this, but he hadn't expected it to come so easily. Mahiru had done it with the casual grace of someone all too used to making friends at the drop of a hat. He would have wanted the conversation to last longer, but Mahiru kept looking outside in that wistful way he had done with the ice and it led Sakuya to give into curiosity again and ask, "Did you want to go outside?"

"Oh, huh?" Catching on to what he had been doing, Mahiru laughed sheepishly and rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, yeah. Snow is pretty, don't you think? It can be a pain to shovel, but it just sank in it's the last of the year..."

That decided Sakuya and he nodded agreeably, taking Mahiru by the hand and pulling him out of his seat. "Come on, then. Let's go for a walk."

They walked to the park down the road and Mahiru took a seat on a swing, fingers skimming the snow as he leaned back. His other hand was tight on the swing's chain and he used it to drag himself back up as he scooped up the snow. With an innocent call of, "Sakuya, look out! Behind you!" that Sakuya wasn't proud he fell for - would have hated in another - he turned his head to look behind him and ended up with a snowball to the back of his neck. It was cold and trickled down the gap between jacket and skin. His nice, warm jacket was suddenly useless. Oh, it was on.

Bending down, Sakuya gathered as much snow as he could and aimed it at the fleeing Mahiru. It fluttered and landed on the other man like snowflakes falling from the sky. It drenched his hair and soaked his scarf, his ears turning red from the chill. His eyes, Sakuya noticed, had been extinguished of their fire and in its place was something new. Something that Sakuya couldn't put a name to right away. Too gentle, a something he had rarely been given, and it was something he hadn't thought someone like Mahiru would give him.

He wound up with snowball to the face when he stared far longer than necessary, and Mahiru was smiling at him, fist pumping the air. "Score one for me!"

"Why you -" Cutting his own words off, Sakuya made a more compact snowball this time and moved in closer, hitting Mahiru in the shoulder with it and sticking out his tongue. "There, that's one for me!"

They collapsed side by side on a bench sometime later, laughing at how drenched they were, and how rosy the other's cheeks had gotten. "It's been a while since I've had a snowball fight like that," admitted Mahiru. "Thanks for playing along."

"It was fun," Sakuya assured him, "but if I catch a cold? You're in so much trouble, Mr. Coach."

"Heh," chuckled Mahiru, winding down from the good humor in the air, "that's awful. Please don't call me that. Just keep calling me by my name. And don't forget," Mahiru wagged a finger at him, like a school teacher scolding a misbehaving child, "I'll expect payment."

"Yeah? How much?" No price would be unfair. He was taking Mahiru's time, after all; it was only right to expect compensation.

Mahiru tapped a finger to his chin and then answered, "I'll keep it simple. What is a medal worth, I wonder?"

"Eh?" came his intelligent reply. "You can't mean -"

"No, I'm serious. You win a medal in the Grand Prix Finals and we'll call it even. Don't disappoint me," Mahiru challenged, standing and brushing off any lingering snow. "Do you think you can do it, Sakuya?"

"With you?" Sakuya said unabashedly, "I don't doubt I can."

Chapter Text

After weeks of getting to know Sakuya off the ice, Mahiru thought it was about time to get to know Sakuya while he was on it.

That wasn't to say he hadn't taken to reviewing Sakuya's performances throughout his past competitions. Because he had, and he was planning to correct a lot of what he saw in regards to those performances, but there was only so much he could learn through a television screen. He wanted to be able to see the actual person take to the ice in front of him, and Sakuya had upheld his end of the bargain. His balance had improved.

With that first accomplishment out of the way, they could move on to the next hurdle they had to overcome. Finding a location for practice. Mahiru was wary of going back to Eve Paradise for a variety of reasons, and that left them with slim pickings for the local ice rinks in the area. Sakuya didn't seem bothered, however, insisting he knew a place. Even if there was pure vitriol in his voice when he spoke of it.

They agreed to meet up in a few days, after Mahiru had finished putting the final touches on some of the choreography he wanted Sakuya to try. Simple moves that would suit Sakuya's taste from what he had seen of him. As full of character as Sakuya from behind that joking facade.

He did not expect the directions he had been given to lead him to a dance school, regardless of there need for a place to practice. It wasn't outside the realm of possibilities, given dancing was an important part of what they did, but they needed a place to be on the ice above any other. He was looking forward to having ice beneath his feet as much as Sakuya at this point. He wanted to be back where it felt most comfortable, and he wanted his mind to go blissfully blank again as Sakuya showed him what he could do. He wanted, more than anything, to make both their dreams into a reality.

That seemed far-fetched now that he stood in front of the prim and proper looking academy, being greeted by a blank-faced woman who insisted she had been expecting them. Sakuya reached over and patted her on the head, making her puff up her cheeks in outrage before she turned on her heels and marched back inside. There was a companionship there, a bond that Mahiru had yet to forge properly with this person he had undertaken as a student, and he had to admit he was at odds with how easily Sakuya waltzed into the building. As if he owned the place, that posture said, as if he had been here more than any other place.

The woman led them down the halls, music playing in every room they passed, until they arrived at a door with a sign hanging on it, which said, 'Reserved.' She opened it for them and ushered them inside, before backtracking out of the room with a promise to be back later. Considering her more formal attire as opposed to what would be comfortable for practice, she likely had a meeting she was getting ready to attend. Thinking this, Mahiru also came to conclusion she had to be pretty high up in the hierarchy, a representative for the studio possibly.

The room they were in looked like a typical place to pratice ballet. Well-lit with plenty of mirrors, and chrome-colored walls where there weren't any mirrors. The floor was a pristine black, glossy yet well-trodden from the wear that had accumlated underneath. He glanced at Sakuya to get an idea of what they were doing here, but he had to quickly look away when he noticed the younger man was stripping.

"What ... uh, what are you doing?" Since the long mirror in front of him wasn't helping any, Mahiru dropped his gaze to the floor where it was safe.

"Getting changed. What else?" Sakuya stepped closer to him, within distance of what Mahiru could see. From the amount of skin showing, he had taken off about everything he could get away with taking off. "You should, too. Otogiri will be back before you know it, to introduce the rest of the gang."

That sounded ominous, but Mahiru had to point out one tiny thing that he thought more off: "Aren't there designated changing rooms here?"

Pulling on tight fitting leggings, Sakuya took a moment to answer. "Dunno. I always change in here. Never bothered to ask. Though I guess that's where Nee-san changes."

"Oh!" He had heard mentions of Sakuya's sister throughout their time together, but this was new. "She works here, too?"

Dismissively, Sakuya told him, "No, she practices here. One of the best ballerinas you'll ever see. But you should have seen her on the ice, that was something else." From the tone he was picking up on, Mahiru guessed that had been one of the gravest disappointments that Sakuya had ever faced. He didn't ask anything further, because he wouldn't have appreciated prying either, and they fell into an awkward silence.

Mahiru wasn't comfortable undressing in front of someone that he had met recently, but thankfully Sakuya was done with changing and didn't make it into a big deal. Besides, Mahiru reasoned, he had come dressed in casual clothes anyway. In case they took to the ice straight away. Unfortunately, he hadn't seen any sign of ice, but he had seen a lot more skin than he was expecting.

The door creaked open and dissipated the awkward atmosphere that had been building. The woman from earlier, Otogiri, was back with a line of others trailing after here. "I have to leave now, but let me introduce a few of the others who can be of assistance."

He caught Sakuya rolling his eyes at the formality, but Otogiri didn't bat an eyelash at the display, beginning to list off the people accompanying her. "This is Higan, who specializes in all things non-traditional in the realm of ballroom dancing," she spoke in a flat voice, unimpressed, as the man in question gave a smirk and bowed at the waist. "I heard you had an idea for using tango moves in the upcoming competitions," she directed this to Sakuya in particular, a considering air about her, "and if that is the case, you'll want to ask Higan about that."

"Oh goodie, I can teach the kid some respect," admitted Higan as he straightened from his bow. "From time to time/ the clouds give rest / to the moon-beholders. And perhaps I, too, might give you some rest. Though first you'll have to earn it."

The man beside him scoffed, arms crossed in front of him as he hissed out, "You don't know the meaning of rest, you madman."

"That one," Otogiri gestured to the person speaking, "is no one important."

"Oi! Introduce me properly, you -"

"Forgive me," drawled Otogiri, "I forgot who you were for a moment. Ah yes, this is Shamrock." She used air quotes to say his name, her face not giving away the amusement that flickered in her eyes. "He is in charge of the more traditional ballroom dances, and as you can see for yourself, he's not on good terms with Mr. Higan here."

Under his breath, Sakuya muttered, "That's because Tsubaki-san plays favorites."

Otogiri looked him straight in the eyes at that and wondered aloud, "You don't?"

Spluttering, Sakuya hung his head in what appeared to be shame. He didn't make a peep after that. Not while Otogiri introduced the last person that had come with her, a tall man with long pink hair done up in a bow. He wore as much white as Shamrock, but their outfits contrasted - one meant for ballet, like glue to skin, while the other was in a casual suit that hid more than it displayed. Funny in how it offset the black and red that Higan wore, with the man's suit jacket hanging from his shoulder, two fingers used as a perch. Half the buttons undone from his shirt, the direct opposite of the straight-laced Shamrock.

"Belkia," Otogiri declared with an aborted hand motion that looked like she was getting ready to give him the middle finger rather than say his name, "is another ballet instructor here at our school. Please, take everything he says with a grain of salt. We're looking into what ails him and we'll find a cure one day."

"Mean!" Belkia exclaimed, fixing his hair bow and flicking his hair over his shoulder. "You're jealous, aren't you, about how much I make -"

"Moving on," she talked over him pointedly, clasping her hands behind her back, "I trust you boys will live up to the expectations Boss has for you. I will be sure to tell him you're working hard when I see him." Tucking the short strands of her hair behind one ear, she gave a little smile and said, "I wish you the best of luck. You're going to need it." Then she walked out, her heels clicking on the floor and drawing the attention of the men who were askance at her quick departure.

Recovering first, Belkia clapped his hands with a beaming smile to outdo Otogiri, insisting, "Let's have you boys warm up first and then we'll put you in one of our afternoon classes. Hey, old man," his speech changed abruptly, dropping an octave as he groused, "your time to shine. I have a class to prep for."

"I have a headache," Shamrock added, tapping at the strange eyepatch he was wearing, "old wounds acting up. You know how it is."

Higan didn't seem to believe a word they said, but waved them off with a hearty, "Yeah, get lost, I can handle this on my own." When he gave Mahiru and Sakuya his undivided attention once the others were gone, there was an all-consuming fire in his eyes and it promised pain. "Right, let's get to it then."

Hot and sweaty, Sakuya collapsed against Mahiru's back, groaning about how he couldn't go on. "If I have to stretch in that inconceivable way one more time," threatened Sakuya, "I swear something is going to snap, and it is not going to be me."

Laughing, because he was pretty sure Sakuya was joking, Mahiru leaned back into the embrace and decided, "I like it. It gets the heart pumping."

Sakuya eased back, the flush on his face brightening for some reason. "E-Er, yeah. It does. And of course you would like this, wouldn't you. You task master."

"Okay, okay, enough cuddling," Higan announced and he picked Sakuya up by the back of his shirt. The strength in one hand enough to pick him up and that was honestly scary. Scrambling to his feet, Mahiru gave a half-hearted salute, saying, "Ready for more, sir!"

Smirking, Higan told them, "Now that's what I like to hear, but unfortunately that's it. You're off to bother Belkia, the both of you. Shoo, shoo."

It seemed Sakuya knew where Belkia was and Mahiru followed behind, still vaguely unsure what this had to do with him coaching Sakuya in any sense of the word. They arrived before Mahiru could think it over properly, and with the door wide open, Belkia was alerted to their presence at once. He motioned for them to come in and explained to the class, "We have some extras that will be joining us from time to time. Does anyone mind? Yes? Well, too bad. Get over here, brats, and keep up with the rest of us or you get kicked out."

It wasn't the first time Mahiru had put up with an eccentric instructor like this, but he had thought those days were long gone. Lost when his uncle admitted he wasn't going to get better, no matter how much faith Mahiru placed in him to pull through. He was faced with a specter of a time he had thought would remain frozen in his memories forever more.

Instead, Sakuya was pushing him into the room and warning him to keep up, because they had a medal to win. Together. He hadn't known he needed to hear that - the phrase known as 'together' - until that moment. He had someone to stand by his side and he would stand by that person's side for as long as he could in return. "How about you keep up with me?" Mahiru teased, getting into position beside a young woman with flowing hair that glowed a familiar green. Maybe it was a popular color here, he absently thought.

"Oh, he'll try," the young woman giggled, "but don't tempt him too much."

Bemused, Mahiru was about to ask what she meant, but Sakuya interrupted with a loud, "That's not what we were talking about, perverted sister!"

Mahiru did a double-take, looking back and forth between them. The resemblance was there, but their attitudes were so different that he wasn't sure what he thought about that. "Nice to meet you," he told her, "but um ... what does Sakuya mean -"

"Don't need to know!" declared Sakuya empathetically, staring his sister down in challenge. "It's nothing, Mahiru. Anyway, Shizuka, meet Mahiru. Mahiru, this is my weird sister." Under his breath, Mahiru heard Sakuya mumble, "Thanks to that weirdo Tsubaki-san. I told her it was contagious."

He wondered if he would ever get to meet the elusive 'Tsubaki-san', who he had heard even more about than Sakuya's sister. There were some things he would like to ask that person. Starting with: how do you handle this pair of siblings? Because Mahiru wasn't sure what to make of them after a prolonged class period. They had spent the majority of it bickering around him, pulling off the outlandish movements that Belkia demanded from them with minimal effort. Since the effort went into the arguments, for whatever reason. Not having siblings, Mahiru didn't know whether this was normal or not; but judging by the disgruntled look on their instructor's face, he had to think that this was normal for them at least.

After the class was over, Shizuka handed them both water bottles that she had prepared for them. She had doodled on Sakuya's, putting a little heart around his name, which made him stick his tongue out at her while calling her childish. Mahiru stifled a chuckle at their antics, but he must have made a sound because they both turned to him, stunned. "Hey, whose side are you on!" They asked in chorus, and Mahiru had to bite his lip and glance to the side, shrugging. Because if not, he was going to laugh. A lot.

That didn't deter someone else from laughing, however. Loudly and without restraint. "Oh, you two never change," crowed the newcomer, who had taken to leaning against the door frame, one wooden sandal propped up against the wood of the frame as he steadied his swaying with every giggle. "I've come to collect your dear brother, Shizu-chan. Hope you don't mind."

Shizuka was holding him out for the stranger to take, throwing in a, "All yours," with a smile so sly that he was seeing the resemblance more and more.

"Tsubaki-san," greeted Sakuya grudgingly, as if it physically pained him to be nice to this person, "I thought you weren't coming today." That also implied that their plans had been derailed without warning, what ever those plans had been. Mahiru was as in the dark about that as anyone.

"My, me? Not showing up when you're around? Perish the thought." Then the laughter abruptly cut off and Tsubaki sighed, "But I'm bored now, so let's get going."

Sakuya didn't put up a fight, which was another thing that managed to bother Mahiru. The familiarity with each other, as well as the noticeable hold this person had over his new student. It didn't add up in his book, and he kept pace with them to figure out what was going on. For someone that Sakuya didn't like, and how open he was about that fact, he was willing to go along with what this person asked of him. There had to be a reason for that, and he found he wanted to know more about Sakuya as a person, not just as his student. He wanted to know about him as someone that had managed to get under his skin, someone that had been there when he thought he was fine on his own. Perhaps that was what this man was to Sakuya.

"Welcome!" cheered Tsubaki when they arrived at a basement door, knocking on the metal as he explained for Mahiru's sake, "Welcome to Sorrow's Castle!" With the door held open for them, they began to descend the stairs, the temperature growing colder the further they went. Gasping in surprise and leaning over Sakuya's shoulder for a better view, Mahiru finally saw the ice he had been longing to see, saying a small, "Oh," into Sakuya's ear.

A shudder ran through his student, but Mahiru paid it no mind as he drank in the sight of the gleaming ice that awaited them. He pressed forward, urging Sakuya on, and they stumbled to the side of the rink together. "This will be perfect! Is this ... is this a private rink?" He looked to Tsubaki for the answer, patiently awaiting a response.

Tsubaki merely laughed, covering up his mouth with the long sleeve he wore on his right arm. An odd man, for sure, to wear such a small amount of layers down here in the chilling air. "Oh, what's this? Sakuya hasn't told you anything?"

Shaking his head, Mahiru told him, "We haven't talked much about where we'll be practicing. Did you volunteer this place, Tsubaki-san?"

"So polite! See, Sakuya, you could learn a thing or two from this kid." Tsubaki turned back to Mahiru, flourishing his sleeve for dramatic effect as he made it clear that, "I was once a coach, too, you see. They called my skater 'The Creator'. Perhaps you've heard of him?"

Gaping, Mahiru grabbed a hold of Sakuya and shook him a little, asking, "Why was I not told your original coach worked with 'The Creator'! That's something I need to know, don't you think?!"

Gently, with all due care, Sakuya pried his hands away. With distaste, Sakuya made it clear, "That man was not my coach. He's just ... there."

"Mean, that's mean~!" Tsubaki cackled before sobering up and sighing, "Sure, I taught him a few tricks, but he is correct. I wouldn't coach such a mean little boy." His gaze swept over Mahiru, from top to bottom, as he mused, "Though I wouldn't mind taking on a retired skater, should he ask. Do keep me in mind, Mahiru."

"Back off," Sakuya stepped in front of him, blocking Tsubaki's view, "don't you have trouble to be causing elsewhere?"

"Maybe," shrugged Tsubaki, "but that's so boring. I would rather -"

They didn't find out what Tsubaki would rather be doing, because the door behind them was thrown back open with such force that it swung and hit the wall. Admittedly, it was a thin door that swung easily when pushed, but they still had to admire the tiny package that had delivered the blow. In this case, an angry young man that was now standing there glaring daggers at them.

"Shirota!" yelled the young man, his hands going to his hips. "Get out here and face me like a man!"

Mahiru moved a bit to the left, to help his vertically challenged friend spot him better, and waved at him. "Hey, Misono! It's been a while, how've you been?"

Marching up to Mahiru, insulted, the young man poked him in the chest and declared, "You're competing whether you like it or not. What is this ridiculousness? A coach? Do you have any idea what it takes to be a coach?"

"I don't," admitted Mahiru, brushing the other's hand aside. "But that's what makes it fun, right? I'm trying something new."

"Excuse me," Sakuya had moved to pat Misono on the shoulder, smiling winningly as he redirected the attention to him, "if you have a problem, you can take it up with me. I was the one who asked for his help. Don't take it out on, Mahiru."

"You," started Misono, bristling, "you don't get to speak. This is your doing, I'm sure."

At that, Mahiru's amiable attitude fell away, replaced with that blank feeling from back at the hospital, the one that made him question what he was doing with his life. Did anything matter, was he making a mistake? Thoughts that plagued him when he tried to sleep some nights, but thoughts that had also been chased off when Sakuya had become a part of those thoughts. It had been a blessing, really, to have an excuse to tell those thoughts: I am someone's someone. It's as simple as that. But Misono was reminding him that it was not that simple, and that he hadn't even told one of his closest friend's why he had retired.

"That's not any of your business." Those were familiar words, Mahiru thought with a fleeting smile, who knew that Sakuya had any idea what they meant. "You're barking up the wrong tree."

"Barking? How dare you say such a thing, do you know who I am?"

Mahiru held up a hand, saying, "That's enough." The both of them quieted down while he struggled to find the words. "I have my reasons, Misono. I'm not ready to talk about them, not yet. But when I am, I hope that you will listen."

Misono glanced from coach to student, then back again. "Fine. I'm not here to pry. I am here to make one thing clear, however. I do not acknowledge your retirement in the slightest. I will not have anyone, least of all this brat," he jerked his thumb at Sakuya, scowling, "replace you as my rival. There is no one who can take your place."

As flattering as that was to hear, Mahiru shrugged it off, "You'll change your mind before you know it."

"Change my mind? Do you think I would change it after this many years of competing against you?" Frustrated, Misono gripped the side of his head, tugging at the short black hair that was there as he insisted, "I've lost my brother. I'm not losing you too."

"Listen, about Mikuni -"

Misono didn't want to hear it, biting out, "Save it. That traitor gave up. I expected better from him. I will expect better from you. If you think you can make me change my mind, then you better be ready to prove it. That this brat," he gestured to Sakuya again, "can win against me."

Raising his hand, Sakuya pitched in, "Um, this brat has a name. It's Sakuya."

"This brat," continued Misono, like he hadn't heard, "can't possibly bear the weight of gold. How can he beat me?"

"Sakuya can win," Mahiru corrected. To Tsubaki, he asked, "Would it be possible to arrange a friendly competition here sometime?"

Thinking it over, Tsubaki decided, "That would be good publicity for the grand opening I'm preparing for this place. So I say: why not! This will be fun."

"Good." Reaching over and clapping Misono on the shoulder, Mahiru declared, "Let's have a match then. You against Sakuya. The winner can ask one thing of me. How does that sound?"

Sakuya lit up like a child in a candy store, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he shouted, "I'm in!"

Tsubaki giggled in the background, ignored by all.

Then there was Misono, who was giving the whole thing more thought any of them. There was a challenging glint to his gaze when he directed it to Mahiru, brushing his friend's hand off his shoulder with a bitter, "If that's what it takes, I will skate against him."

When they finally settled on a date, Misono left without looking back. Mahiru had to admit there wasn't much he could do if Misono refused to see Sakuya as an equal in the end. At least, when the time came, he could show the world what he had seen in Sakuya. He had seen someone reaching for the stars.

Chapter Text

The greatest trouble that Sakuya had with his new coach was convincing him that tango was simple. It wasn't, not really, but he was creative with a few well-placed lies and somehow Mahiru was willing to give the inclusion of 'watered down' tango moves a chance. One of his best, most compelling lies seemed to be the ones where he would need Mahiru's personal help with learning them. Moves that required a partner, so he could then adapt them into a solo.

For one thing, it involved Mahiru in the process much more, and that was a win for the both of them. Most of the sessions had Higan overlooking their progress, but that didn't mean he couldn't enjoy the feel of Mahiru's hands clasped in his or the way their bodies flushed up against each other during more intimate moments. He also relished the looks of stunned disbelief every time he managed to pull of something that Mahiru didn't expect of him. Such as being a little more daring in some moments, trying to convey what each of those moments truly meant to him.

Off the ice, it was easy to get away with that level of intimancy, but on the ice, he had to show what he could do without Mahiru's help. Though that didn't mean he couldn't take advantage and ask for a little assistance on correcting a stance, or that he didn't enjoy watching Mahiru imitate what he was supposed to be having his 'student' do and get a little carried away with it. Since being on the ice was like coming home; that was what was written all over Mahiru's face in those cherished seconds. Sakuya wouldn't have given it up for the world.

Yet after two weeks of nothing but practice, practice, practice, he had to do just that. He had to give up his time with Mahiru for the sake of earning more time with Mahiru. That was what he was going to be asking for, at any rate - the chance to have just one evening alone, just the two of them. No additional parties involved. No annoying but well-intentioned sister. No dance instructor breathing down their necks. And the best of all: no Tsubaki walking in and conveniently ruining the mood.

He tugged the strings from his shirt, flakes of golden glitter crystallizing upon his fingers as he exposed more of his skin, and adjusted the belt that went it to properly cover where the bottom half met the top. With a quick check in the nearest mirror, he adjusted the shirt to where it should have been, fiddling with the collar unnecessarily. His hair was as good as it was going to get, as wild and untameable as he was going for in his upcoming performance. His skates were covered with constrasting purple coating to offset the green and black of his costume, intended to make him look classier than he felt. A little royal flair to the adventure he was about to set out on.

The seats of the new place, Tsubaki's grand opening, were filled and still there were people lining up against the walls. Excited chatter accompanied, and the things he could hear said - he wished he hadn't forgotten his headphones back in the dressing room and began to pace. That was until he felt someone tugging on the back of his costume and turned to see Mahiru there, holding out a pair of earbuds with a sheepish smile. "You look like you could use an escape for those pre-competition nerves," his coach explained, already looking down and clicking through his music selection to find something he thought Sakuya might like. "Ah, here, try this."

That had to have been the first time Mahiru had been willing to share even a small part of his own life with Sakuya, and he grasped onto it like a starving man to a piece of outstretched bread, partaking before it had registered he should say something in return. He had the earbuds in, soothing music in his ears, and only then did he finally stumble over a, "Thank you."

He watched Mahiru mouth, "Don't mention it," and then closed his eyes to reenact the whole thing. Replaying the whole interaction like a balm to the nerves that were beginning to stir and make him antsy. There was something about picturing Mahiru's smile that could put him in a calm state of mind before he could think to resist. Something about Mahiru was what made it worth it. He didn't want to let him down, and that should have made him anxious to the core, but somehow he found it compelled him to want to try even harder than he had ever tried at practice.

When the tap came to his shoulder and Mahiru gestured for him to take his place, he realized the introductions must have already been over and it was his time to shine. He would make sure to shine the brightest, he could promise that as he took Mahiru's hand and pressed a kiss to the knuckles, before fleeing to the ice. Leaving no room for it to be commented on. The wide-eyed look of disbelief was enough to make him smile for the judges, still with that picture of Mahiru in the forefront of his mind.

His starting pose had been decided from the very beginning, a simple hand gesture that beckoned the auidence to come closer and put them on the edges of their seats in anticipation to see what would play out behind that smile. He would weave them the perfect fabrication, one that would make them believe they were the ones he wanted out here with him the most. The ones he was challenging and wanted more than anything else. All the while with someone else's smile in mind, a smile that he had seen directed at him so much in the past month that he often thought it to be a dream that he had yet to wake up from.

He let go of all other thoughts but that one, clinging to it as he heard the music start. He imagined it was Mahiru in front of him as he kicked back his leg and turned his head to the side, abruptly looking back and licking his lips as he raised his hands in the motion one would use to continue taunting someone, egging them on as he moved backwards. Left, right, abrupt stop to the beat of a guitar and faint percussion that wouldn't have felt out of place on the streets of Spain; at least in his mind, that was the case as he told himself: I am not the one that is doing the taming, but the one that must be tamed.

He gave his everything to make the performance a success, ending on a sit spin that took his breath away. Panting, he came back up to finish with his arms open wide, giving a showy bow to stop the compulsion to immediately seek out the familiar smile that he couldn't forget throughout the entire thing. He kept his eyes forward until he made it off the ice and then began searching for Mahiru, who was already there and enveloping him in a hug, praising him for a job well done, saying things that Sakuya could hardly hear over the pounding of his own heart.

It felt strangely like being on top of the world for that one single, fleeting second in time. Until his rival on the ice stepped forward and told them with utter disapproval in his voice, "This is a waste of time. What a shody performance! You think I can't do better than that? Than him?" Directed toward Mahiru, all of it, not a glance spared in Sakuya's direction.

That wasn't acceptable to him, so he reached forward and tugged on the cow-lick sticking straight up on of the other's head, teasing, "Hey, can't hear you from way up here. Could you say that again?" His hand was, as to be expected, slapped away, followed by a glare to end all glares on the face of his disgruntled opponent. "I'm sorry, did I say something not to your liking? Oh no, did you think I was getting short with you?"

"Those insults are beneath me," assured Misono, brushing off his costume as if the mere presence of the other skater made it dirty. It didn't make the startlingly amount of purple look any better, regardless, but Sakuya supposed it did suit the majestic attitude the shorter young man carried along with him like a purse. "I will show you what a real performance looks like."

With that promise, he took to the ice in place of Sakuya and Mahiru helped take off the skates that were no longer needed by crouching down to undo the laces. It seemed almost motherly, the way Mahiru sought to help without even being prompted, looking out for his student like one might a small child. It wasn't what he wanted, to be looked after in that way, but he had plenty of time to get Mahiru to see him in a different light. Right now, he had to worry about Misono and whether or not he was going to succeed in stealing that time away.

The music, for one, was much softer and sweeter when it came on. Gentle plucking at the guitar and low vocals that sang out the emotions that were placed into the choice, emotions that appeared to be lacking in the skater that was supposed to be conveying them. The technical skill was there, the spins were something else to watch take flight, but Sakuya could take one look at it and tell that there was something missing. A void there, buried deep within that didn't shine through. Perhaps the frustrated look on Misono's face had something to do with that, but there was a distinctness to the whole charade that made him wonder what his rival was thinking about.

It wasn't as he had feared it to be, it wasn't enough to beat him. I know who I'm skating for, Sakuya thought viciously, looking away to direct his attention to Mahiru. Do you have someone like that, too? By the worried look on his coach's face, he was seeing the same thing and probably knew what it meant in a way that Sakuya would never be able to comprehend. He envied that, what the two of them had, but he was starting to appreciate what he had too and didn't want to ruin it by questioning it. The important part was that, in end, he was the one up there on the winner's podium and the announcers were congratulating Sakuya Watanuki for a performance that had exceeded their expectations.

The most important part was he could feel Mahiru's hands on his shoulders, standing behind him and happily whispering in his ears that he had earned what had been promised. It was a beginning of what he hoped would be many more days where he could make Mahiru proud, that smile reflected on the medal he rose to place a kiss to as Mahiru continued to stand behind him.

In the changing room, he was surprised to find that Misono had waited for him. The other skater had already changed out of his outfit with the two crosses made of silky lace and ruffles, replacing it with a smart looking suit. It was as if he was about to conduct business rather than attend an after party to celebrate the success of the new skating rink. From the crossed legs and haughty expression highlighting every sharp feature of his face to the flicker of his eyes in the direction of the door to check that they were truly alone.

Once it was obvious they were alone, Misono stood, not that it did much in the way of intimidation, and straightened his jacket to buy time to find the right words, finally settling on: "You did well out there."

Flabbergasted by this turn of events, Sakuya gaped and pointed to his chest before checking behind him to make sure this wasn't some kind of prank being played by Tsubaki. When he didn't see the grinning, ever-laughing man anywhere around, he turned back to Misono and awkwardly told him, "Thanks, I think."

"I can see why Shirota chose you," continued Misono, again like he hadn't heard or refused to acknowledge what Sakuya had said, "and I can tell you right now that this isn't over. You're going to regret making me see you as a rival." Then he brushed Sakuya on his way out, making sure his shoulder  pushed him aside as roughly as his tiny frame could handle. In some regards, he had to admire that anger; it could lead to good results if it didn't rule him in the end. Not that he had any right to talk, having bottled up too many of his own emotions to really be nothing more than a hypocrite on the subject.

Instead, without turning around to give Misono a second glance, he told him, "Good luck." Since his new 'rival' was going to need it with every fibre of his being. They were both going to need the luck, to be honest.

Sometime later, Mahiru peeked in to see what was taking Sakuya so long to change and he was met with the sight of his student laid out on the bench, flowers in his arms as he stared down at them and wondered: How much further do I have to go to keep on winning? Because if Misono had been focused, if Misono hadn't let that anger consume him and it hadn't been there to distract him, what would have been the end result? He barely felt Mahiru pat him on the head, but he did hear the encouragement of, "Hey, whatever's on your mind, let's talk about it together," and that was enough for him to look back with a playful smile to wash away the doubts and fears.

"Oh, I was just wondering what to have you do," Sakuya proclaimed, pulling a flower from his bouquet and presenting it, "and I think I have the perfect idea in mind."

"Yeah?" Mahiru asked, accepting the flower and spinning it between his fingers. He didn't turn his gaze away from Sakuya, brow furrowing as he wondered, "What have you decided on?"

"Well, you're always boasting -" Mahiru was already spluttering out a denial. "Oh yes, always boasting about how well you can cook. Why don't you cook for me one night, Mahiru?"

Thinking it over, Mahiru tentatively began to nod his head. "Okay, that's not too bad. I can do that. Actually, that's perfect. You can come over and we can discuss some of the things you need to improve on. Where do I begin ..."

That wasn't what he had been intending by that suggestion, but he would settle for that. It wouldn't have done to get his hopes up, anyway.

The night Mahiru chose was a night like any other. They had practiced for hours both on and off the ice, both of them exhausted and ready for bed more than anything else, but Mahiru insisted it was fine to come over. To make good on the plans they had made. It wasn't like Sakuya was going to argue with him about that; he had been wanting to see Mahiru's apartment for ages and it was like a dream come true.

He was not expecting, however, for a black furball to be greeting them after Mahiru had unlocked the door. His coach scooped up the cat, cooing about how much he had missed the ball of fluff, turning to introduce it to Sakuya as, "Kuro. This is Kuro. Hey, Kuro, this is the guy I was telling about you!" He waved one of the cat's paws, hiding his face behind the cat and pretending to sound like a lazy guy as he drawled, "Nice to meet you. I'm Kuro, I guess. Now feed me, Mahiru." With a chuckle that give him away, Mahiru put the cat back on the floor and kicked off his shoes, inviting Sakuya to do the same. "Come on, I'll show you around first."

The first thing he noticed was how annoyed the cat appeared at this turn of events, tail swishing back and forth at it surveyed the newest guest. It didn't make him like it, far from it, it was worse than when it had been introduced. Perhaps it was the beady-eyed stare he was getting from it, but the cat seemed to hate him and he hadn't done anything to it yet. Though it was mutual; he hated the easy way Mahiru interacted with it. No second-guessing there, no touches that weren't reciprocated with the utmost love. That cat had everything going for it.

The next thing he noticed, though, took his mind off the cat that continued to prowl behind them. It was the trophies that lined the shelves in the main room, right above the television that sat on its own stand with pictures on either side of it. Pictures that seemed to be from the past with how faded they looked and how young the people in each of them appeared. A group of small kids, slowly growing up throughout the years, until there remained only two and those two weren't so different from their older counterparts. He could tell who they were immediately: Misono and Mahiru, the latter with his arm over the other skater's shoulders and the other boy grudgingly enjoying the entire thing despite the defensive posture and disgruntled frown.

He had somewhere else to direct his envy that seeped into hatred, but at least Misono didn't live with Mahiru. That was a definite point in the other skater's direction. The cat didn't have that going for it and he was already building quite the appalling dislike for the thing. The real distraction from the cat's persistent gaze was when Mahiru started speaking about his accomplishments and what each one meant to him, as if Sakuya hadn't memorized each of them by heart or knew the words that his coach would choose from interviews.

He played along and nodded at all the right parts, asking questions where expected, and probing for more than the interviews would allow for - it was amazing what he could learn with a little nudging. That proved one theory: some of those interviews had been edited to leave out the good bits. Like the time Mahiru tripped in the lobby and still went out to skate despite a sore ankle at the time. No wonder that performance had seemed off, that explained it. Or the time Mahiru had almost been late to a performance because he had stopped to pick up a stray kitten in the rain, which threw off the timing for his whole free skate.

At that one, Sakuya turned an accusing gaze to the cat still flicking its tail back and forth on the floor, having moved to stand guard in front of Mahiru like it was the king of the house and wanted to protect its palace. It had another thing coming, where its master was concerned, and he intentionally moved closer to Mahiru on the couch, stretching out his arms with a fake yawn so he could rest one behind Mahiru. For whatever reason, that sparked something in the cat and it pounced, sinking its claws into Sakuya's leg and making him yowl with the  sudden, surprising pain that ignited in his leg.

A split second later, Mahiru had his cat by the back of its neck, giving it a little shake as he asked, dismayed, "What are you doing, Kuro?" In guilt, the cat curled up and hung there, scolded for its misdoings. "I'm so sorry, Sakuya!" He hurried off, muttering about how disappointed he was with his cat, and shut the hell demon up in the bedroom, where it continued to scratch at the door and give a cry for attention. "I can't believe him," Mahiru shook his head upon his return, sighing, "that's the first time he's ever lashed out like that. It caught me off guard ... here, let me see how bad it is."

This wasn't how he had imagined getting Mahiru on his knees in front of him, his hands pushing up his pants' leg and probing absently at an injury. He had a vivid imagination, but nothing would have prepared him for that, the light touches sending little tingles down his spine and igniting a want for more. Alas, that wasn't to be as Mahiru retracted his hand, standing and tossing a casual, "Let me go and get the first aid kit, so I can take care of that," over his shoulder as he went to retreive what was necessary.

It wasn't the first time he had needed someone to fix him up like that, but it was the first time someone had offered and actually wanted them do so, willing to let Mahiru unravel him to pieces if that was what he so wished. A first, he found, where he was willing to trust someone to look and not be scared of by anything they found there. For Mahiru, he could let him see and not have to hide and that, to him, was a relief in itself.

When Mahiru returned with the kit, he was more prepared to watch him fall to his knees and bow his head, tending to the wound with the delicacy of someone skilled with their hands. He didn't react as the scratches were cleaned other than to tighten his hands into fists, not taking his eyes off Mahiru. It was over too soon, the injury wrapped up and taken care of just as promised.

Mahiru gave it a gentle pat and told him, "There, all better," flicking his gaze upwards before fully standing and somehow thrown off balance by what he must have saw on Sakuya's face, leaning onto the couch to get back on his feet. "What's wrong? Does it hurt that much?" He reached out and swiped his thumb against Sakuya's cheek, retracting his hand to reveal a glistening fingertip. "Why are you crying?"

He couldn't explain it, really; he hadn't even known he had been crying in the first place. He curled up instead, dragging his knees up to his chest and burrowing his face against them as he felt Mahiru take his seat beside him again, rubbing circles into his back. "Hey, tell me what's wrong."

Into his legs, Sakuya mumbled, "You're too perfect," and then cleared his throat as he raised his head, saying louder, "You're too puurfect, so unfair," as a joke to be played off. "Ahh, you're going to have to teach me how to disinfect cat scratches if this is to be a reoccurring thing," he added, because he was at a lost as to what he was doing here, why he was even still here when he didn't deserve how nice this was despite everything.

Mahiru simply tilted his head and considered. "Well, I can do that, but I'd rather work on Kuro warming up to you than ever having to see you hurt again."

With a snort, Sakuya told him, "It better not or I'm going to have to get even with a cat."

"Petty," commented Mahiru, flicking him in the middle of the forehead. "Come on, help me make dinner, you big crybaby."

For his part, Sakuya stuck out his tongue and crowed, "Crybaby, me? Awww, you're just jealous that I cry pretty and you don't."

"I'm not going to ask how you would know that. I've ceased to understand how your mind works." Mahiru gave him a slap to the leg, right above where the scratches were, and grinned. "I'm serious, though, you're helping in the kitchen. Let's go."

A chance to be at the side of the one he most cared about wasn't something he was going to pass up, but he did groan about it. Complaining about the absurd number of knives, the difference in all the green produce he was supposed to be dicing up, and even bemoaning the fact that there was framed picture of Kuro hanging on the wall above the counter, staring at him in disapproval throughout the whole process. Still, he wouldn't have given it up. Not a single moment of it.