Work Text:
dancing on the blades (you set my heart on fire)
By: Aviantei
[NagiReo Week 2026 7/7]
[Parameters: "Different Sport AU | Brought Back Wrong | Childhood AU"]
It's the finals of the Team V Cup, and Reo has just finished his free skate to thunderous applause from the crowd. The judges are still deliberating their score, but he's certain he's earned a new personal best, if not secured the gold. He holds his position in the center of the ice a bit longer, trying to catch his breath. He'd pushed himself today, adding in an extra quad that he's always struggled with in practice since it's so late in the program, but he managed to nail it. Off to the side of the rink, Ba-ya smiles as she waves him over, reminding him that he's done all he can now, that it's time to rest and let the results speak for themselves.
Whenever he makes it off the ice and to the rest area, Reo makes sure not to slouch, despite the way his muscles ache from the exertion. There are cameras here, steady on him to give a live reaction whenever his score is announced, and he won't slack off here. He can't help but feel a bit tense, though; the waiting is the part that always kills him the most. Ba-ya offers him a towel, which Reo accepts with gratitude to wipe the sweat off of his face, careful not to make any more of a mess of his tucked back hair than the act of figure skating has already done to it.
"Mikage Reo—289.7."
Reo leaps up before he can even think about having any other reaction. Ba-ya crushes him in a hug the next second. That's a new personal best, without any room for doubt in the slightest. On top of that, it's put him in current first place, though there are two more skaters left. That's still podium guaranteed, though, which was the condition for his father fucking off and letting Reo pursue his skating career. As far as Reo's concerned, he's already won, though he won't be satisfied until he has the Grand Prix gold in his hands.
Mikage Reo always gets what he wants, and this is the first step for it.
What follows is a much larger blur than usual. There's the next several moments of celebration, and then Reo's shuffled off to give comments and interviews that he doesn't even remember (he'll have to watch the recording later to make sure he didn't say anything problematic) before the media sets him free and he gets to the stands in time to watch the next performer take the ice. Nagi Seishirō, the announcer says, a name he saw on the competition listing but hasn't heard much about otherwise.
In terms of costuming, Nagi Seishirō has gone for simplicity rather than flair. His outfit is all black and simple, a clear contrast to the white mop of his hair. He's perfectly still, ready in his opening position, and his form is pretty clean. And then, the music starts, some track that has just enough of a rough edge to it that Reo suspects it's from some retro video game or another, and Nagi Seishirō starts to move.
The music starts slower, and so his motions do, too. His control over his body is impressive, his center of balance stable as he moves across the ice. His first step sequence goes off without a hitch—nothing over the top, but a solid opener. The tempo of the music starts to pick up, and Nagi Seishirō's movements go with it, the swell of volume climaxing in the most gorgeous quadruple loop that Reo's ever seen, and his pulse starts to pick up again like he's the one skating out there.
Nagi Seishirō continues through his routine, and, while the technical side of Reo's brain can see smaller areas where the man can improve, watching him feels captivating. Each of his jumps is an impeccable quad, and he never loses his balance once. Even as his program reaches its final stretches, where many skaters are struggling to keep up their momentum, Nagi Seishirō finishes strong to thunderous applause, Reo's including. Where has this guy been this whole time?
I want him.
"Ba-ya," Reo says, "do you know anything about this guy?"
"Not much," Ba-ya says, which is rare of her. "He just started his career this year, so there's very little on him aside from his previous skates."
And then, the crackling of the announcement up above: "Nagi Seishirō—291.5."
Reo cannot even begin to care that he's just lost out on the gold; of course he did, this man is incredible, deserves first place, deserves the Grand Prix Cup, deserves whatever he gets. Reo won't go so far as to say that it's an honor to lose to Nagi Seishirō or anything, because Reo is competitive enough to want to win at everything he does, but—well, he can admit that Nagi Seishirō deserves first place with a routine like that.
The last skater doesn't even come close to making an impression, nor do they even come close to making it on the podium. Not that Reo thinks he'd even notice if they did. There's plenty of skilled skaters out there, ones that Reo's studied so he can add their techniques into his own arsenal, but no one's made him feel like this before. Noel Noa's current world record skate wasn't even able to captivate him the same way that Nagi Seishirō has in a single performance.
Not that Reo ends up getting a chance to chat with the man. Once they're on the podium, Reo's busy making sure he's picture perfect as he accepts silver, and Nagi looks half asleep as he ducks his head for the gold. There's also post podium interviews, and by the time all is said and done, Nagi Seishirō is nowhere to be found. Reo resolves to hunt him down at the afterparty, but he doesn't have all that much luck.
How hard can it be to find a white-haired guy over two meters in a crowd?
"Oh, you're not going to find Nagi here," Yukimiya Kenyū, this competition's bronze medalist, says whenever Reo gets around to asking him next to the dessert table. It's the first concrete hint all night, since most others just said they had no idea. "He's not someone that goes to afterparties at all."
"You know him?" All anyone else has been able to say about Nagi is how impressive his performance was. Which is very true; it's just not helpful in making sure Reo can talk with him.
Yukimiya shrugs. "I wouldn't say I'm friends with him, but we've skated against each other before. When I asked him if he was going to come to the afterparty, he said that kind of thing was a hassle and that he'd rather sleep instead."
Reo snorts, but he can't say he doesn't understand. Sure, as an extrovert, he enjoys talking with people, and he can't deny that he also likes being the center of attention. But while he's made friends with a lot of his fellow skaters, there are also plenty of people at these events who only care about his family name, and that's just exhausting. Nagi shouldn't have the same exact issues, but he's not the first skater to avoid these social events, and he won't be the last. Reo swirls his flute of half-drunk champagne. "So you've skated against him before?"
Yukimiya nods. "A couple months ago. He took gold then, too, but he was even better today. It turns out this is his first season, which is all sorts of ridiculous."
"I mean, not everyone starts out in the majors right away." Reo did, pushing his way into competitions the moment he turned sixteen as a particular fuck you to his father, but it's just as common for skaters to work on their craft before debuting so they're able to score high from the outset. "Once you shake off your nerves, it's easier to score better." Not that Reo's ever fallen prey to anxiety like that, but he's seen plenty of competitors fumble the first couple of times they have to perform in front of a crowd.
"Well, yes. But it's Nagi's first season skating ever. He didn't even do it when he was younger." Reo is not one to feel stunned often, but that's enough to do it. Reo at least had some basic figure skating experience here and there through his teen years, which is when you have the best physical conditions to pull off skills that are harder as an adult. Of course, growing up gives you more stamina and muscle for more demanding routines, but it's still ridiculous to think that someone could come so close to cracking three-hundred in their first year on the ice. Yukimiya gives a wry smile. "Those are just rumors, though, but if they're true…"
"Then that means Nagi Seishirō's a genius." With this new information, Reo's even more impressed, his heartrate picking back up again. Nagi is impeccable with so little practice; how will he turn out once he keeps training and competing? Reo wants to see him skate again, just to recapture the magic. How amazing would it be to watch him grow in real time? "There's gotta be records on him… Well, if you hear anything else, Yukki, let me know, alright?"
Reo spends the rest of the party daydreaming about where he's going to start looking. It's been a while since he's had an excuse to go down a research rabbit hole.
Of course, Reo still needs to keep up his training, so he focuses on his usual routines as much as he can. No matter how amazing Nagi Seishirō is, there's no sense in letting his own performance slip up. Reo always gets what he wants, so he's going to earn the Grand Prix gold. He's just also going to figure out more about Nagi Seishirō at the same time, and, lucky for him, Ba-ya's willing to help him out.
Ba-ya has plenty of connections from her own time on the ice, so it's not too difficult for her to find out where Nagi's from and where he started skating. Just like the rumors Yukimiya mentioned, Nagi has never skated before in a professional capacity. It seems that he's friends with Bachira Meguru, a doubles skater, who happened to invite him to skate for fun and encouraged him to give competition a shot whenever he showed promise in it.
(How Ba-ya is able to find out these things is a whole other set of questions. Reo knows better than to pry into things he doesn't need to, though.)
That promise paid off, if his performance at the Blue Lock cup is any indication. He's picked up Chris Prince as a coach, which is a recipe for success if Reo's ever seen one. Nagi Seishirō is going to take the men's figure skating world by storm, so long as he puts in the effort. Maybe, as an athlete, Reo should feel worried about having someone so brilliant as his competition. Instead, the more he learns, the more elated he feels. His father was always going on about there being people with innate talent and those without, and Nagi Seishirō has that innate talent in spades.
I've gotta get to know this guy better.
While Nagi's double golds mean that he's in good shape for the rest of the season, that doesn't mean he won't be practicing. It's a fine line to draw between staying in practice without crashing yourself to the ground, but if anything Reo's heard about Chris Prince is true (and Ba-ya assures him it is), he'll be keeping Nagi on the rink and in conditioning. So then all Reo needs to do is call in a favor or three, and he should be able to show up while Nagi's practicing so they can chat.
"Hey, Ba-ya, how flexible is our schedule this week?"
No time like the present, after all.
The Manshine City ice rink is an impressive facility, through and through. There's a fuck ton of ice, for starters, and the building is kept in top shape, too. Reo's never been there before, but everything he looked up about the place indicated there are other training rooms with gym equipment, too. Chris Prince is a firm believer in that someone's physical core is the key to high-level skating, and it's not like he's wrong. You need strong legs for jumps, high-precision control for movement, and the endurance to keep going the full length of your routine. Ba-ya got permission to stay and train there for the next handful of days, so Reo's looking forward to taking full advantage of the whole facility before he's done.
But first, he has a much more important task to take care of, which is meeting one Nagi Seishirō.
Of course, Ba-ya didn't just get Reo an invitation to use the Manshine City rink; she also made sure to plan their visit for whenever Nagi Seishirō is training, because she's the most efficient coach (and grandmother figure) on the entire planet. They're greeted by a receptionist at the front, who gives them both guest badges, and it's not too long of a walk to the rink proper. They step into the room, ceiling high, windows letting in natural light, and the crisp chill of the ice in the air, and Reo allows himself to take a deep breath and soak it all in.
"Greetings! You must be Mikage Reo!" calls a boisterous voice, and Reo grimaces just a bit at the sound of his family name. He's got on his social smile soon after, though, just in time for a muscled man with short-kept blond hair and bright, light blue eyes to reach them. Chris Prince may be retired from the ice, but he's not let his physical condition deteriorate in the slightest. He gives an assessing look over Reo's own physique. "Yes, I see, very impressive…"
"It's good to see you, Chris," Ba-ya says, pulling Chris from his mutterings. "Thank you again for letting us drop by on such short notice."
Reo completes the greeting by dipping his head in a quick bow. "Thanks for letting me train here." It's a struggle to be polite whenever all he wants to do is meet Nagi. Whenever he stands upright, he scans over the rink for any signs of him and—there.
Nagi Seishirō is unmistakable thanks to his size and the color of his hair, which is good, because he makes a very different impression slumped on the seats of the nearby bench, propped up by the wall as he hunches over his phone. Unlike his appearance on the ice, his hair is an utter bird's nest and his clothes are loose, just a step above household wear. Considering that this man doesn't attend parties because they're "a hassle," it's not that surprising he doesn't craft his appearance the way that Reo does—and yet, despite how sloppy he looks, Reo can't help but be charmed.
He's adorable.
Ba-ya and Chris are hashing out the specifics of joint practice schedules, so it's easy for Reo to slip away. He knows he should get his skates on and do some warmups to make the most of his time here, but he ends up making a beeline for Nagi instead. "Hey," he says, once he's close enough, "you're Nagi Seishirō, right?" As if he doesn't know already.
"That's me." Nagi taps at his phone a bit more, finishing his level before he glances up to Reo. He blinks his glass gray eyes that no video is ever able to capture the color of right. (Reo should know, since he's watched them all.) After a moment more, Nagi reaches a conclusion. "Oh. You're the guy who won silver last time."
Reo is far too pleased that Nagi recognizes him, even if he doesn't seem to have a good memory for names. Reo puffs up in pride, putting a hand to his chest. "That's right! I'm Mikage Reo. Call me Reo." He already has everyone call him by his given name, so it's not that unusual of a request, but there's no way he's letting Nagi get in the habit of calling him Mikage.
"Okay, Reo." Nagi shrugs, like the familiarity is no big deal, and then doesn't elaborate further. During his research phase, Reo watched some interviews, where Nagi says very little, and that's turning out to be true in person, too. That's okay; Reo can handle directing the conversation no problem.
"Your program was super impressive by the way." Nagi blinks, almost like he didn't expect Reo to keep talking to him, but he doesn't go back to his phone, so that's good. "I've never seen a performance like that. It's even more amazing since you're so new to the sport."
"Everyone says that, but I just kinda do it." There's no bluster or bragging to it; just a statement of fact, and Reo can appreciate that, too. It's one thing to be pretentious (Reo's had plenty of experience dealing with those types), but that's not what's going on with Nagi at all, and that just makes Reo feel even more excited than he already was, which is no small feat.
He can't stop the laugh that bubbles out of him. "That makes you a genius, then," he says, and it's not an exaggeration on his part, either. "If you keep on going like this, you'll have no problem winning the Grand Prix gold, I bet."
The old man always went on about "natural talent," and there's one of them right here!
"Oh, good, you're already getting to know each other," Chris says, his voice somehow even louder than before in his vigor. Nagi shrinks down a bit into his seat, as if that will be enough to hide his bulk. When Reo turns around, Ba-ya's right behind Chris, her smile encouraging. "We've thought of a fun exercise for you both. We're going to have you practice tricks from each other's routines! That way you can both learn from each other and also expand the range of what you might be able to do next season."
Nagi grumbles, "That sounds like a pain…"
Reo beams. "Sounds great! Let me get warmed up, sir, and I can go first!" He's been watching Nagi's routines over and over—and while he doesn't think he can pull off the same effortless stamina in a full routine, he's pretty confident he can do most of the parts in isolation. After all, Reo's always been able to replicate things when he sees them—and he's watched Nagi skate so many times he pretty much has the routine burned into his brain.
"Great, love that energy! Seishirō, you better get warmed up, too, or you're gonna be left behind!"
"Eh? But if Reo wants to do all the hard work, we should let him. He can pull it off…"
While Reo's grateful for the praise, he's also not going to come all this way without getting to watch Nagi skate up close, so that's a no go. "Come on, Nagi!" he says, tugging on the other man's arm. "Your routine is way more intense than mine. I know that you can handle everything I do without breaking a sweat!"
Nagi looks neither convinced nor enthused by the prospect, but he does tie on his skates and shuffle his way onto the ice. He's almost a different person as they go through their warmups, half slumped whenever Chris dares to take an eye off him. Even whenever his coach scolds him, Nagi's still slacking off if he can get away with it. If Reo hadn't already seen Nagi pull off the most impressive routine he's ever watched in person, Reo would wonder if the other man has ever put in any effort at all.
For Reo's part, as much as he's keeping an eye on Nagi, he still puts his all into his warmups, making sure his body is relaxed and ready to go. If the practice plan for the day is to try and replicate parts of Nagi's routine, Reo needs to be in top shape for some of those later jumps. Besides, just because Reo's far more excited by Nagi's talent than threatened doesn't mean that Reo can afford to hold back if he's going to see his dream through.
"Would you like to go first, Bōcchama?" Ba-ya asks. She's already well aware of the time Reo's put into learning Nagi's routine (and, by extension, how much time he's spent watching it), so there's no reason not to show off a bit. Not that Nagi is just going to sit and watch, instead the two of them going over the various moves together, with Chris calling for repeats whenever Nagi gets too sloppy. Nagi pouts whenever that happens, but he still keeps going, and Reo watches him close, trying to pick up on any little extra trick or nuance he can to absorb Nagi's technique. Observation's his sole choice, since trying to ask Nagi turns into variations of "I just do it," which might be helpful for geniuses, but not for Reo.
It's okay. I already knew that I'm best at copying others. Let's make the most of it.
As the drills continue, Reo and Nagi keep repeating the same moves together, and they end up in a sort of rhythm. Being able to pull off the technical aspects of a program is one thing, but the timing is another, making sure things fit into the music as intended for the optimal effect. And while Nagi's a bit of a slow starter, Reo knows the pacing of Nagi's routine well enough that they end up in synch after a while, and then, just as Chris is calling out a break to get some water, an idea sprouts, grows, and blossoms in full force in Reo's mind.
Ignoring heading to the sidelines, he instead skates up to Nagi and grabs his hands, looking him in the eye as he says, "Skate doubles with me!" and not even Nagi's confused, "What…?" can deter Reo.
He can see it already: the two of them are going to be the best in the world.