Chapter Text
There’s an announcement hidden within the fish.
Emu pushes her phone forwards so the three of them can see the tiny text box sitting inside the taiyaki case, the lights of the ceiling bouncing off the screen as Rui leans forward to look. The fans above them hum, mimicking the contemplative atmosphere in the room. It’s a simple but well made digital poster detailing an upcoming competition in a city a couple of hours from them in a few month’s time.
“I found it last night!” Emu tells them as Rui looks up. “It’s not for a while yet, but doesn’t it look exciting? Look, the logo of the rink is so cute! I’ve never been there before but I bet it's a really fun place!”
It isn’t one Rui has heard of before, but it’s been a good few years since he last ventured into the world of competitive skating. It’s definitely nothing official, but it appears genuine and well thought out. There’s something strange about seeing a post like this and it actually being a possibility rather than just a passing what-if.
“It’s not any kind of serious contest, is it?” Tsukasa peers at the phone carefully. “The name isn’t familiar.”
“It seems to be an independent competition,” Rui says. “But there are quite a lot of comments, so it appears to have at least a decent amount of interest.”
“That’s right!” Emu nods. “And this competition is really special, because there are no restrictions on paired skates! Anyone can skate with anyone! Oh, but they still have singles too.”
“No restrictions…?” Nene frowns. “How is that even scored…?”
“They have a post about that too…um…” Emu scrolls a few times to the side, and Rui can see that she’s actually showing them pictures saved to her phone rather than a direct link. A post she didn’t want to lose. “See! You only get one program but the score doesn’t matter on who does what. Last year, two girls won the paired skate program!”
“Well, so long as they still have singles, it doesn’t really matter,” Tsukasa says. “I think it’ll be good to get back into the competition scene again! I have some new poses I’ve been wanting to show off!”
“And it’ll be the first competition since everyone joined!” Emu says. “That makes it even more extra super special!”
It’s a bold proposal, but definitely not an unwelcome one. Not an entirely unexpected outcome of Emu pulling them all into the closed cafe at the side of the rink before practice, but probably still not his first guess. Rui glances at Nene, trying to gauge her reaction. Of course, she seems worried, but not entirely unwilling. Tsukasa appears entirely fired up already, as expected. In terms of enthusiasm, Rui probably falls somewhere between the two.
“Um, but it’s okay if you don’t want to!” Emu says, her attention turning to Rui and Nene. “I just thought it might be fun because of the theme and also so to have something to work towards since we’re a proper club now! But if you don’t want to, don’t worry!”
“What’s the theme?” Rui asks.
“An ocean full of stars!” Emu announces, grinning brightly as she swipes onto the next image. “Isn’t it cute? And there’s a little picture of a whale in space!”
Rui puts a hand to his face as he observes. “Hm…”
“That’s…” Nene starts.
“Perfect!” Tsukasa finishes, springing out of his seat with clenched fists. “A theme centered around stars? They must’ve known I was coming!”
“There’s a lot of fun programs to be devised with a theme like that,” Rui says, the connections already firing through his brain. “We could use different positions to mimic the changes in gravity…maybe combination jumps to add to the feeling of weightlessness…there’s a lot of different possibilities…”
“Right?” Emu smiles at the three of them. “That’s why I thought it would be a really fun idea to try!”
“Would you also like to try skating singles, Emu?” Rui asks. “I could help you choreograph a program if you wanted.”
“Mmmm…” Emu’s face scrunches up in thought, her eyes flicking to the side for a split second. “I don’t know yet! But we have lots of time to decide.”
“That’s right.” It’s just as well too, since he also has no idea what he wants to do. Even the thought of competing seems too novel, let alone trying to participate in an ice dance duo again. Emu is undecided, and he would never want to pressure Nene into doing anything she isn’t comfortable with. So that leaves just entering singles alongside Tsukasa, but somehow all the visions for choreography don’t feel right picturing himself as the star.
“I’m not sure yet either,” Nene says. “It does seem like a good event though…even if we just went to watch, that could be fun.”
“I’d definitely accept any offers of help for choreographing a program, Rui!” Tsukasa says.
“Oh?” It’s a little surprising for Tsukasa to want his help, since Rui knows his goal is to climb the ranks and consistently land podium spots, which is probably much more easily achieved through conventional choreography. “Well, I did have some ideas, if you want.”
“Of course! Ever since me and Emu watched your previous performances, I was thinking how interesting it would be to try out something similar!”
“...I wasn’t aware you did that,” Rui says, though now their initial insistence on him joining Emu’s club is making more sense. Nene laughs behind her hand.
“You have a fan club, apparently,” she says.
“And you too, of course, Nene!” Emu says, snatching the smug smile from Nene’s face. “Your skating is so wushwush-waaow!”
“I-I don’t know what that means,” Nene mutters, and it’s Rui’s turn to laugh, because he’s pretty sure he does.
-
Deep in space…the endless twinkle of lights too far away…serenity, but emptiness too…is it better to view the endless expanse down from the safety of Earth, or to gaze back on home from a place of pure nothingness? Grasping onto something through the lack of gravity…a flip, or a combination as the meteors speed by…
“Are you sleepy, Rui?”
Rui pulls himself back to Earth, opening his eyes to see Emu staring down at him. That’s right. They haven’t even taken flight yet. He’s getting a little ahead of himself.
“He’s plotting a routine,” Nene says from beside her, bag sitting over her shoulder. Will she be joining their practice today, too? “It’s that look he always gets.”
“Plotting a routine?” Tsukasa’s head twists around as he starts skating over to the side. The rink isn’t busy today either. “Is it for me?”
“I don’t have anything concrete yet,” Rui says, because somehow it feels too obvious to simply answer ‘yes’. “I’d need to see your full capability before I can make anything for you. I know I’ve seen you skate a few times, but I need to know all the techniques you’re comfortable with first.”
“Then watch this!” Tsukasa swivels back around to the side with alarming speed, and Rui distantly wonders if he may have been a hockey skater in another life. Without slowing down, Tsukasa springs up in a triple salchow, landing easily on one foot and holding his arms out in a flourish. Emu claps excitedly.
“Amazing! You went so high!”
“You barely prepared yourself for that at all…” Nene says, but Rui can tell she’s impressed too.
“I can do more!” Tsukasa exclaims. “Watch my camel spin!”
“Tsukasa’s skating is so fun,” Emu says as Tsukasa starts hurtling around, stretching his leg out behind him. “It’s like watching a magician at a big fancy party!”
“You mean over the top?” Nene questions.
“So?” Tsukasa abruptly stops, eyes boring into Rui. “How was that? Fantastic, right? Are you stunned by my repertoire?"
“It’s very impressive,” Rui says. There’s something a little endearing about the way he lights up at the word of approval, apparently so desperate for praise. A shooting star, a planet surrounded by a ring. “But can you go faster? Raise your leg higher?”
“Of course!” There’s no hesitation as he starts spinning again with even more force. Rui leans forwards.
“Is that as much as you can do?”
“I can do more! Watch this!”
“Yes, yes, like that! Show me the force of your true speed, Tsukasa!"
“Hey, you’re going to damage the ice,” Nene says as Tsukasa lets out what can only be described as a battle cry, turning into a blur. Rui sits back slightly, regaining himself.
“I can tell you’ve trained hard,” he says as Tsukasa comes to a halt. “But can you do more?”
“More…?” Tsukasa frowns, then his face moves to full determination. There it is, that expression Rui wanted to see. “Then, how about a quad? I’ll show you my toe loop!”
“You can land quads…?” Nene asks in disbelief.
“I want to see!” Emu cheers, and Rui sits up again as Tsukasa sets off. A comet. He pushes up again, and Rui narrows his eyes to catch the rotations. One, two, three- but the fourth is just too late, and Tsukasa stumbles to the ground. Still a very impressive attempt. There’s more than enough to work with here.
“I can land it properly if I go again-” Tsukasa says, only a little breathless. He’s less tired than he should be. How much is he capable of in a full program? Of course, an entire routine is far more exhausting than a couple of stray jumps, but the hypothesis that there’s far more to be done is one that he’s sure will be hard to disprove.
“No, that was good,” Rui says. “You have good command over your movements.”
“Don’t I?” Tsukasa puts his hands on his hips. “That’s because you’re looking at a future gold medal Olympian!”
“I want to spin too!” Emu flicks off her skate guards and jumps onto the ice in that terrifying way that Rui is sure only she could land. “Teach me how to do quads too, Tsukasa! I wanna spinspinspinspin!”
“It’s not just about the rotations! There’s a lot you have to think about with those types of jumps- hey, watch where you’re going!”
“Are you sure you can make a program for someone like…that?” Nene asks beside him. “You know you’re probably looking at an injury waiting to happen.”
“You think so?” Rui watches the position of Tsukasa’s arms as he skates, a surprising amount of delicacy behind the movement despite having to battle for survival against the fireball of Emu. Her jumps are also very impressive, though perhaps not quite as refined as Tsukasa. “Hm…I wonder how high his extensions can go…do you think he can do an oversplit? He seems like the type, but I’d need to see more to be sure of his full flexibility…I wonder if there’s a way I can test it…”
“You’re saying some pretty concerning things right now, in more ways than one,” Nene says. Rui looks at her from the corner of his eye, unable to turn his head away from the ice.
“Hm? What do you mean?”
“No…” Nene shakes her head. “Don’t worry about it.”
“I just never thought I would have an opportunity like this,” Rui says, smiling as the inspiration continues to blossom in the back of his mind. “I have so much to work with.”
For some reason, Nene gives him the same pitying look that one might give to a kitten learning to walk. “If you say so.”
“I bet the contest is gonna be so super fun!” Emu says, twisting around a few members of the public. “I can’t wait to see everyone’s performances! Are you excited too, Tsukasa?”
“Hm, of course I am!” Tsukasa raises his arms in the air again, though it’s perhaps not quite as high as they were before. He must finally be looking to take a break. “My goal is always first place or nothing! No matter who I’m working with, I always strive to do my absolute best!”
That’s right. Tsukasa is a competitive skater first and foremost. Still, this isn’t any kind of qualifying competition, so it’s probably fine for him to have a little bit of fun in the routine.
-
“...You know the time limit is only four minutes, right?”
Rui looks up from the stack of paper he’s still adding notes to, seeing Tsukasa leaning over him with a raised eyebrow. The current strike of inspiration Rui had been following must have been longer than he thought, because only a few seconds ago Tsukasa was still warming up on the ice, but now he’s standing with skate guards on and arms crossed. Rui puts his pencil down.
“They’re not all definitive ideas,” he says, shifting to let Tsukasa take a seat beside him. “But I will admit I may have been…slightly overzealous.”
“Can I see?” Tsukasa takes the notebook from him, and it’s somehow nerve wracking to have someone else looking over his ideas, even if this is the entire reason for writing them. “Ohh, I like this one here! I‘ve been practicing this kind of combination a lot lately, so I think I could do it pretty well!”
“I was thinking so too,” Rui says. “But for that one, I placed it at the end of the program. Would that be okay? I wouldn’t want you to feel pressured into doing a difficult combination so late.”
“That’s no problem for me at all,” Tsukasa says, just as Rui had hoped. “Hmm, but isn’t the story a little sad?”
Alone and lost, a single figure swims alone in the vast empty sky. They search for a way to reach the hundreds of stars that surround them, but no matter how far they go, the lights still seem too far away. Finally, after struggling through space for so long, they stumble across another light, but when they reach out their hand, the fire is too strong to bear. The heat too intense, the glow too bright. As beautiful as it is, they have to accept the inevitability of staying alone and drift on through the universe. It doesn’t seem bad written down, but maybe it’s different through Tsukasa’s perspective.
“I can choose a different song, if you’d like,” Rui says. “I had ideas for the other ones you sent, too. I just felt this was most fitting.”
“Maybe in the ending, I could become one of the stars I so desperately long to reach!” Tsukasa suggests. “Hmm, though I’d still be alone.”
“It is singles, after all.” Rui places the notebook down on the bench and stands up, rolling his foot back and forth to ensure his laces are tight enough. “If you like this one, should I talk you through it? You can follow along with the book and then try mirroring me.”
“Oh, just like a real coach!” Tsukasa heads back to the rink, carefully removing his skate guards.
"What?" Rui makes a face. "You don't already see me as a real coach?"
"I do! I just meant- it's not like an official thing, right?"
"Would you like me to draft up a contract?"
"I'm a little scared what that would entail...but you're the most qualified out of all of us to be a coach, right?"
“Well, it’s been a long time since I was last coached by anyone…”
Rui steps onto the ice, positioning himself at the side. It’s a good, spacious rink, well maintained despite its usual sparseness. It’s a place he’s been visiting sporadically for a while now, even before he met Emu and Tsukasa, but it remains eagerly waiting for the day when its public sessions reach full capacity. It’s a shame, because Rui is sure so many people could benefit from knowing its whereabouts.
Tsukasa takes a place not too far from Rui, hands on his hips. He has a way of standing on the ice like he’s determined to take charge, stance wide in a manner that makes Rui surprised his legs don’t just slide all the way down into a split.
“So?” Tsukasa calls, rolling his shoulders one at a time. “How does it start?”
“I’ll give you a demonstration first,” Rui says. “You can watch along with the notes.”
“Understood!” Tsukasa nods, grabbing the paper from where he’s placed it on the side, already eager to learn. That’s another thing, too. His entire disposition is so charged up and strong-willed that Rui had first expected him to argue with every suggestion he makes, but yet he continues to accept his ideas and thoughts with every practice session they’ve had. Every time he thinks he’s fully figured Tsukasa out, something else gets in the way. It’s a strange puzzle.
Even the song too, Rui thinks as he starts to act out the movements written in his notes. It’s a little unexpected to think Tsukasa would enjoy this type of intricate piano music, a little bittersweet and a little wistful. But it had been on the list Tsukasa had provided, and had worked perfectly for the vague visions Rui had been twisting around in his head. A paintbrush for the mess of colours he had waiting.
He has to simplify a couple of the movements as he makes his way through the program, though he knows Tsukasa will understand what they’re supposed to be from the notes in his book. It’s not even that they’re exceptionally hard, but more that he’s out of practice. And skating solo is different from skating in a pair. That’s still something he’s trying to get used to, even after all these years.
By the time he hits the ending pose, his heart is beating hard, and he makes an effort to breathe through his nose instead of mouth as he turns to Tsukasa. It’s still lurking in the back of his mind, and he waits for Tsukasa to tell him it’s not really his thing actually, and that it might be best to stick to something more normal-
“I think I get it now,” Tsukasa says, staring hard at the paper before he looks back up. “Can I follow along this time? I want to try going through those jumps, too.”
“...Of course.”
Rui lets Tsukasa take centre position, reminding him of the choreography when he needs to and watching his movements carefully. His skating style is strong and energised, but there’s something Rui is seeing now that’s much clearer than it had been in practice sessions. It’s almost too exaggerated. It feels rushed and the moves don’t hit the mark as they should. Rui narrows his eyes.
“You don’t need to raise your arms for that flip,” he tells Tsukasa. “Focus on your control first.”
“Hm? But anyone can land a jump like that. I need to add flourish and difficulty to make myself stand out!”
“You’re losing height and you’ve underrotated a few times,” Rui says. “Try it again with your arms in.”
Tsukasa doesn’t look entirely pleased with the request, but complies anyway on his next attempt. And it’s definitely more controlled, more stable, but- the issue is still there. It’s not just the jumps, it’s almost ingrained into every movement he makes, even just simple turns and steps. Maybe it’s a byproduct of being so new to the choreography? Rui isn’t sure.
“How was that?” Tsukasa asks after a couple more run-throughs. “Am I getting it?”
“...It’s okay,” Rui says, and doesn’t miss the way Tsukasa falters slightly. “Today is only the first day. We can practice more off-ice, too.”
“Maybe, but I think it’s better to do as much on-ice as possible,” Tsukasa says. “That’s where it really matters, right?”
“Even if you’re comfortable starting on-ice, you should still ensure you have the fundamentals down first.”
“Of course I have the fundamentals down,” Tsukasa says, skating to the side to grab his water. “I’ve been skating for long enough, after all!”
Rui wants to agree, because it’s obvious based on the way Tsukasa skates that he knows what he’s doing and is more than capable of landing the jumps and making his way through the choreography smoothly, but- it’s not quite right. Should he change the program after all/? But today is the first day, and every skater has bad days. It wouldn’t be fair to make an assumption based on a single session.
“You guys!” A voice cuts through Rui’s thoughts, and he turns to see Emu and Nene entering from the top, Emu waving widely as she rushes over. “Are you practicing for the show? Did you decide on a program, Rui?”
“We’ve just been working on Tsukasa’s performance, for now,” Rui explains. Emu’s eyes light up.
“Really? Can I see?”
Tsukasa’s head snaps up. “I can-”
“We were just about to take a break,” Rui says. He notices Nene doesn’t have her skates on today. “But we’ll be sure to show you next time. Have you two decided on what you want to do?”
“Not yet!” Emu says. “But I was feeling kinda vivvywivvy so I thought I’d come skate for a bit! And I brought Nene too, just in case she wants to join in!”
“I’m still trying to decide,” Nene says. “I haven’t competed in a while, so…”
“This would be a good opportunity to get back into it, wouldn’t it?” Tsukasa says. “Since it’s only a local competition, it’s not like there would be any pressure to do well.”
“M-maybe.”
“Well, let me know if you have any tracks in mind for a program,” Rui says. “I’d be happy to offer a hand too, if needed.”
“It’s so cool that you make programs so much, Rui!” Emu says, hopping onto the ice. “I want to do a dance where I go upside down! And then I can do another one where I do a backflip!”
“All those moves are illegal!” Tsukasa scolds, then easily swerves out of the way as Emu hurtles towards him. “Hey! Can you watch where you’re going?”
“Paired skating is really exciting!” Emu continues. “There’s so many things you can only do with another person to help you! You can wuuush and flipflip and spinspinspin!”
“Do you even know the name of any of the techniques…?” Tsukasa asks with vague despair.
“I think competitions would be a lot more interesting with your commentary, Emu,” Rui says from the side of the ice, and Nene giggles beside him. It’s nice to see her here, even if she’s not set up to skate. There was a point where Rui had been sure Nene would never step foot in an ice rink again.
“I hope one day we can hold a big event here,” Emu says, and holds out her arms as she spins again. “Then the rink will be full of so many different types of people, and they’ll all get to see how much fun skating can be!”
“We’d probably have to fix some of the broken seats, first…” Nene says, glancing to the benches that are still in a state of disrepair. They’ve been working on it, but there’s still a lot to do.
“We’ll simply put on an ice show to entice people in and show them how great a club we are, no matter how dilapidated our rink is!” Tsukasa says, spinning easily as he glides back into a spot of safety away from Emu. “Let it be seen that a diamond can come from even the most run down, dust-ridden lump of coal!”
“Uh, aren’t you being too honest?” Nene asks.
“Hm? What do you mean?”
Rui lets the conversation fade to background noise, focused once again on Tsukasa’s skating. Suddenly it seems much more relaxed and fluid, looking as though he’s working alongside the ice instead of against it. What inspired that abrupt change? Is it the presence of the other two, or maybe just the effects of taking a break? There has to be something more to it. Something else Rui can discover and understand.
“Are these all notes you made for Tsukasa?” Nene’s voice throws him back to the present, and he looks down at the papers still resting on the edge of the rink.
“Some of them,” he says. “Why?”
“...It’s nothing,” Nene says. There’s a yell from the ice as Emu grabs one of Tsukasa’s wrists and starts spinning him around forcefully. A hint of a smile appears at the corner of Nene’s mouth. “It’s nice to see you so inspired again.”
“What do you mean? I’m always inspired.”
Nene shrugs, and there’s nothing really Rui can say to that.
-
It’s not just in his head.
The conundrum had continued to plague him even after several nights of contemplation, until he had given up and finally messaged Tsukasa asking him for any captures of his previous competitions or rehearsals to help with ‘understanding his personal style’, as he’d phrased it. Receiving back a very enthused response and an entire drive full of videos hadn’t been exactly what Rui was expecting, but it’s a welcome surprise, at least.
Except, all of these videos serve to confirm Rui’s suspicions. Certainly, there are technical faults that assist in dropping Tsukasa’s score just below third place time and time again, but that’s not the element of the skates Rui finds himself focused on. As the years pass, Tsukasa’s skating continues to fall deeper and deeper into what it had been the other day when rehearsing. It looks tighter, but not tight in the sense of having perfect control, but rather tight as if being squeezed by an external pressure. His expressions are so serious and focused, but there’s always something missing.
“This one is fourth place, too,” Rui mutters as he looks away from his phone, making another annotation in his notebook. He leans back, drifting a little further into the stream of cool air from his fan. Spending more time in the rink is making the heat of the summer feel even worse, and Rui pushes his hair away from his face as he keeps watching. “The step sequence here was good, but the first two jumps were overrotated…”
Is it strange to be pouring over these videos with so much scrutiny? It’s not as if the others hadn’t done it to him; they had already told him they had watched his previous performances, so it’s really no different from that. He’s simply trying to enhance his understanding of his teammate to coach him better for competition’s sake. Rui is about to move to the next video when a message pops up at the top of his screen.
‘are you going to enter singles alongside tsukasa?’
Nene must still be pondering her decision. ‘I don’t have anything planned yet. I don’t mind just coaching for now. Did you need help with anything?’
‘i was just wondering. emu hasn’t decided yet either’
‘You could always skate with Emu, if you wanted.’
The messages stop there. Rui smiles and minimises the chat, turning back to a video of Tsukasa performing in a junior cup at what looks to be middle school age. It’s the same as before, the strained movements, the tenseness in his limbs. Rui notices that he keeps looking off to the side, eyes consistently darting left and right no matter which way he turns. Is he trying to spot the scoreboard? Eye up the judges? No, it’s like he’s trying to spot someone in the audience. It’s most obvious at the end of the performance when his head turns to look across the clapping attendees, face clouded with concern despite a perfectly acceptable performance. He finishes fourth and doesn’t advance onwards.
The puzzle has more pieces than Rui had first realised. But that’s okay. It just makes it more interesting.
-
There’s nobody waiting outside when Rui arrives late in the afternoon. It’s to be expected; he’s early and their agreed meeting time isn’t for at least another thirty minutes. Staying waiting at home had become an impossible task, though, with all the thoughts of the routine on his mind. The latch on the door is still open, Rui can see it through the reflection of the glass. So Emu must still be inside. He could easily go in and start warming up, but part of him tells him it’ll be easier to problem solve when he’s staring at something other than the ice.
He settles down in a spot in the shade, the heat of the day starting to wind down but not entirely gone. There’s still warmth in the breeze that barely rustles the trees nearby, even as the sun begins to set. Rui takes out his phone and starts to play the music through his headphones once more. A lonely piano, determined to tell its story despite its solitude. Not joyful, but not quite sad either.
The area outside the rink really is quite lovely. The building itself is a little unassuming, a place that one might easily glance over unless looking for it, but it’s always well cared for, inside and outside. Just looking at it evokes an image of Emu fervently sweeping the front and stretching up to clean the very top of the large glass doors, and Rui smiles at the thought. It would have been nice if he’d have known about this place long ago, but he’s glad to have found it now. No, not just have found it. He’s been invited in. Recruited. That’s a ridiculous thought.
Rui starts the music again and closes his eyes. Most of the songs Tsukasa had provided him with had been bold and energetic, similar to the style of music Rui has seen him skate to in all his past competitions. It makes sense, and it’s more than easy for Rui to conjure up an image of Tsukasa boasting around the rink to the loud declaration of fanfare. But this track isn’t as straightforward. The image is dark and hard to see, though Rui knows it must be there. If he could see it in person, see something that reaches that enshrouded vision, then it would certainly be…
“You’re asleep?”
Rui opens his eyes, looking up to see Tsukasa standing above him with a frown. The music keeps playing in his ears, and the vision trembles again. It’s both more real and more distant now.
“I’m not asleep,” Rui says, and removes his headphones. “You’re rather early.”
“So are you,” Tsukasa says. “What are you listening to?”
“Your track,” Rui replies honestly, because it’s worth it to see Tsukasa’s pleased expression.
“It’s a truly wondrous piece, isn't it?” He raises his head with pride, as if he was the one who wrote it. Then he hauls one of his arms up behind his head, apparently inspired to start his warm up stretches by just the mention of the music. Rui stares at his sleeves for just a little too long. “Which part are we going to work on today? The middle? Or the start? I wanted to show you the step sequence again, since that was one of the places you thought last time I was lacking refinement.”
“We can do that later,” Rui says, and looks back to the paused symbol on his phone. It’s like quantum physics, almost. He can’t quite tell if the vision in his head is real or not until he tries to bring it to reality, at which point it will have to be one or the other. It can’t be both, and that’s a troubling thought. “Why did you choose this song?”
“Hm?” Tsukasa pulls his elbow behind his head. “I mean, technically you chose that song.”
“It was on your list,” Rui says. “I wondered at first if you had put it there by mistake.”
“You think that poorly of my music taste?”
“I just wasn’t expecting it.” Maybe this is a good chance to increase his collection of puzzle pieces. “What does it mean to you? Why did you choose that specific song?”
“That’s because…” Tsukasa's eyebrows lower in thought. “I like it.”
Rui waits. “...Is that right?”
“Yes.”
“When did you first hear it?”
“At a competition.”
Maybe he’s looking too hard for something that isn’t there. “Was it one of the junior cups? I don’t remember-”
“No, at a piano competition.” Tsukasa seems to notice the question that emerges on Rui’s face. “My mom is a piano teacher so she taught me and my sister how to play. I heard the song as part of the opening ceremony at one of the contests we were at and we both really liked it. I learnt how to play it not long after. Well, of course, she can play it much better than I can! It seems like a very simple piece until you play it. Then you realise it’s a lot harder than it seems.”
“I see. I don’t really know anything about playing piano, so I wouldn’t know.”
“But it’s a lot of fun either way!” Tsukasa says, then the grin on his face slips a little as he drops out of his stretch. “I always thought it would be a good piece to skate to, but it seems like I haven’t been able to prove myself to you yet.”
He seems genuinely disappointed at this, and it makes Rui feel a little bad too. Is he being too harsh? Or is it his own failings of a coach that’s causing Tsukasa not to meet his true potential? He’s seen it in theory so there must be some way to apply it in practice. There has to be a way to bring the fantasy into reality.
“Should we go inside?” Rui asks, and Tsukasa brightens up again, switching back to determination. He’ll make it work. He’ll figure out the solution.
-
“Hold your leg higher, there’s still a bend at the knee. And remember to keep your arms straight! You’re losing refinement!”
Rui frowns as he leans over the side of the rink, watching Tsukasa move into the combination with apparent ease. He lands the jump without issue, no shakiness at the ankle, but it still doesn’t look right. Rui pauses the music and Tsukasa grinds to a halt, sparks of ice flying as he drags his skate to stop.
“Wh-what’s wrong?” he breathes out. “I landed that fine!”
“It’s not that,” Rui says. “Your movements are still lacking. You’re focusing too much on the jumps. The story isn’t coming across as it should.”
“I’ll try it again!” Tsukasa restarts the section, and it’s fine, he would definitely receive a very good technical score, but- it’s not right. There’s no void of outer space or aching loneliness, there’s just someone on the ice jumping whilst music plays. The piano echoes off the walls of the rink, not through the expanse of space.
“That one was better, right?” Tsukasa asks, wiping the sweat from his brow. “I’m sure I went higher that time.”
“It was fine,” Rui says.
“Still only fine?”
“It’s just…stiff.” He’s not sure if that’s the right word. Maybe a better way to describe it would be ‘stuck’? A person pushing against the ice but not actually moving anywhere. “You’re just not connecting with the choreography.”
“You keep saying that, but I’m giving it all I’ve got! Is there something else I need to try?”
Is there? Rui isn’t sure. At this point it’s starting to feel as though this is just the way Tsukasa skates, and there isn’t anything he can do to change that. It’s just- it feels different to how it’s been when he’s not rehearsing a program. Could it be stage fright? No, that’s absurd.
“I think the choreography just isn’t well suited to your style,” Rui decides. “As I thought, I think the best thing for me to do is to change the program."
“No!” Tsukasa skates over to him, crossing his arms. “If there’s something you need me to change, just say so! I know I can do it, so whatever I’m doing wrong, tell me!”
“It’s…” Rui thinks back to those videos from years ago. “Tell me, Tsukasa. When you skate, what is it you’re thinking about?”
“What I’m thinking about?” Tsukasa frowns. “Doing well? No, doing the best I possibly can! Making sure I’m putting all my effort and skill into every movement and ensuring my speed and momentum is correct so I can get the score I rightfully deserve!”
“Is that everything”?
“Yes?” He seems confused. “Why? What am I supposed to be thinking about?”
“It’s not a matter of what you’re ‘supposed’ to be thinking about.” Rui takes a seat, glancing back to his notes. There’s quite a lot underlined. “I guess sometimes it just looks like you have something on your mind.”
“If you’re trying to say I’m not committed, then you’re completely mistaken. I can prove it to you-”
“No, I believe you.” Rui can feel Tsukasa’s frustration pulsing towards him from where he stands on the ice, and wonders not for the first time if it had been too presumptuous to try and coach somebody else. “You tend to miss the podium spots quite a lot when you compete, don’t you?”
“That’s…something that has happened to me before, yes. What, are you trying to say that you think I’m not good enough for this program?”
“That’s not what I’m saying.”
“But it’s what you’re thinking, isn’t it?”
“It’s not that either.” The frustration is starting to get to him, too. “I just wonder if you maybe care too much what others think of you.”
“Of course I care what others think! Isn’t that the whole point of competing?”
“...I may not be the best person to coach you,” Rui says after a moment. “Our goals are too different.”
“What? You’re just going to give up?”
“That’s…not what I’m saying.” Rui stands up and takes a breath. “I’m going to get a drink. I think now is a good time for a break.”
Conversely, it’s a terrible time for a break, but Rui is worried if the angry tension gets any higher then the ice may start to melt. Back in the lobby, Rui selects a bottle of soda from the vending machine and slumps down next to the reception desk. The rink isn’t technically open right now so he doesn’t have to worry about anyone potentially disrupting his brooding. The can makes a hiss as he opens it and he keeps his phone balanced on his lap as he pulls up the junior cup video again.
Tsukasa must be overly aware of the audience watching him and it’s negatively impacting his performances. That’s the only explanation after putting all the pieces together. And it’s not his fault that their values don’t align. Wanting nothing but to make the top podium isn’t a bad goal, it’s just not one that Rui has ever particularly cared about. Maybe Tsukasa will choose to leave the club to better pursue his dreams. That’s fine. If it has to work out like that, then so be it. And based on the sessions they’ve had, it certainly seems it will turn out that way.
It’s just that expression at the end of the video that throws a wrench into the works. If a person was so worried about what others thought of them, why would they stare out into a crowd with such open anxiety? It’s not even that it appears Tsukasa is concerned with his performance; his face looks distracted as if he’s barely even registering the audience’s existence at all. Looking for something.
“You’re still watching those?”
Rui looks up to see Tsukasa standing over him, skates changed and jacket on. “You're finished?"
“I thought you’d already left.”
“I did say we were taking a break.” Rui doesn’t take his eyes off the phone as Tsukasa takes a seat beside him.
“Listen, Rui- I didn’t mean to get angry before. I just wanted you to be honest with your feedback. I promise I can handle anything you tell me, even if it’s harsh. So if there’s something you need to tell me, just tell me!”
That’s not it either. “Did something happen on the day of this contest?”
“Hm?” Tsukasa follows his gaze, and smiles at the image of his past self. “Oh, I remember that! Hm, my jumps were really on point that day! And that was one of the last times I wore that costume…a fitting send off…
“Who are you looking for?”
“Looking for?”
“Here, at the end. It looks like you're trying to find someone.”
“Oh, I was trying to see if my family were in attendance. It turned out my sister fell sick and had to go back to the hospital, so they weren’t able to make it in the end. But she was fine eventually, don’t worry!”
A new piece. There are suddenly less gaps than before. “So you were sad they missed it?”
“No, I knew the reason they weren’t there had to be for something important. My sister tends to hide her sickness until she can’t anymore, so sometimes they have to go to the hospital very suddenly.” Tsukasa’s voice gets quieter. “I was just- worried at that time, because I had no way of knowing exactly how bad it was. I only knew that since they weren’t there, something must have happened.”
“Does your sister usually go to watch your competitions?”
“Well, she’s busy a lot nowadays, but she would always try to, yeah! We were both pretty into skating as kids, even if she couldn’t always participate.” Tsukasa’s fond expression turns to something more troubled. “She was so entranced by the ice show we saw as children, so I was always thinking ‘wouldn’t it be amazing if I could become a great skater like that too?’. Then I could make her smile that same way. Except, I’ve never been able to place higher than fourth place in a major competition. Sometimes it feels the harder I try, the more my score suffers. I can’t understand what I'm doing wrong. But you can see it, can’t you?”
Frustration, disappointment, desperation…it makes a lot more sense now. Those strained movements are the result of a person reaching out as hard as they can to grab something and still finding themselves inches too short.
“Rui, I’m sorry if my skating isn’t meeting your standards. I don’t want you to think I’m not trying, because I really am. I don’t want you to stop being my coach. Your choreography is really interesting, even if it’s challenging!”
“I just fear I may be the wrong person to help you reach your goals,” Rui says, letting his phone fade to black. “I know you want to win first place, but I can’t guarantee that. For me, skating has always been about creating and telling a beautiful story.”
“I want to do that too! If I can’t entertain the audience, then I don’t even deserve that first place medal!”
“But winning is the thing you care about most.”
“Yes,” Tsukasa confirms. “Especially now. This is our first competition as a group. I don’t want to fail on someone else’s behalf. It clearly means a lot to Emu. And of course, it means a lot to me! So I need to be at my very best so that I don’t disappoint anybody, most of all myself!”
“...You’re putting yourself under a lot of pressure, like that.” So much so that it’s crushing him on the ice, the cracks visible as much as he tries to hide them. “Are you sure that’s what’s most important to you?”
“It is. When I skate, I want to win.”
He says that, but surely if he hadn’t looked around so much for his sister, he might’ve had a chance of placing higher. In that moment, it was obvious what really mattered most, even if Tsukasa doesn’t seem to recognise it. And that’s…something Rui wants to see more of. “I want to see you skate more honestly.”
“Hm?” Tsukasa eyes him warily. “I’m always honest.”
“Do you think your sister would only be happy if you won first place?” Rui asks. “Did she seem disappointed all those times you finished fourth or below?”
“...No, but that’s because she’s such a nice person. She would never let her disappointment show, but I’m sure she would be happiest if I won the highest award.”
It sounds like a lie, and Tsukasa seems to realise this too. Rui is sure these are expectations he placed on himself, not something anyone else asked of him. Somewhere the line of ‘wanting to put on a great performance’ and ‘wanting to score as high as possible’ must’ve become blurred.
“I think you skate best when you’re not thinking about winning,” Rui says. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting to do well, but you have to find a middle ground. You can be fuelled by pressure without letting it hold you down.”
“But I’ve never felt like it was.”
“If you hold something for a long time, eventually you may forget you’re even holding it. But the weight will still be there, whether you’re aware of it or not.”
“But isn’t that normal in a sport like this?” Tsukasa asks. “I’m sure paired skating must be the same. You have to stay focused at all times.”
“Skating in a pair is different to skating alone,” Rui says, glancing over at the rental skate area to the side. They look well worn and old. “You have to be completely in tune with your partner, even when you can’t verbally communicate. You have to be entirely at their mercy and they at yours. But the pressure goes both ways. You can’t have one person taking all the strain. The partnership would collapse.”
“I guess I never thought about it that much,” Tsukasa says. “I just know the guys are usually a lot stronger since they have to lift people up a lot.”
“It depends on who your partner is,” Rui says, and smiles at the memory. “Nene was my first partner and she was quite small, so it was never very difficult to lift her. But there aren’t any jumps or throws in ice dance. That’s something I never had to worry about too much.”
“Right…since the focus is more on your choreography and elegance…” He frowns. “Can you show me?”
“Excuse me?”
“Can you show me what it’s like?” He pulls himself up, leaving Rui staring with what must be a pretty blank expression. “If you say I focus too much on jumps, then show me what beautiful skating looks like without any jumps!"
“I can’t…show you paired skating by myself,” Rui manages to say. Tsukasa gives him a flat look as if he’s said something stupid.
“You’re not by yourself,” he says, and offers out a hand. Rui takes it almost unconsciously, just because he’s still trying to understand how the conversation took this turn. Weren’t they talking about Tsukasa and his mental block? Why is he suddenly asking to skate together with him?
“I only ever did ice dance with a partner,” Rui says, his mind thankfully catching up enough to remind himself to let go of Tsukasa’s hand once he’s stood up. “Your routine has a lot of jumps, so it wouldn’t translate properly into ice dance. It would be more suited to pairs, but I’ve never competed in that.”
“It’s okay if it’s not perfect. I just want to see how you skate in your most natural element!”
“Skating with another person can be more dangerous,” Rui continues. “I can’t show you any lifts or anything like that. It would just be- skating side by side. Not a real routine.”
“That’s fine,” he says easily, pushing the doors back into the rink open. The cold sheet of air catches Rui off guard and he barely suppresses the shiver. “If anything, it’ll help me learn my choreography better.”
“Of course.” It’s practical, then. It makes sense, logistically. He keeps telling himself this as Tsukasa re-laces his skates and steps onto the ice with him. It’s not nerve wracking at all, because why would it be? He used to do this every day. Except-
“I haven’t skated with anyone in a long time,” Rui says once they’re both in the middle of the rink. “I might be- out of practice.”
“It’ll come back to you once you start, I’m sure.” Tsukasa stretches out his arms, rolling his shoulders again. “Do you still have the music ready?”
“I do.” Rui suddenly feels a little helpless just standing there on the ice, opposite Tsukasa. “We wouldn’t usually start like this.”
“Hm? How do teams usually start?”
With their arms wrapped around one another, Rui thinks, but quickly pushes that thought away. It doesn’t matter if it’s exact. This is just a loose demonstration. And it’s training, too. Right, just training.
“Try not to think so much about what points you’re accumulating during your skate,” Rui tells Tsukasa. “Focus on the feeling and the story of the program. Don’t just instruct your muscles to make the movements. Invite your brain and your body to work together to show the audience the image you're aiming to create. You don’t need to come first place for others to enjoy your performance. It doesn’t have to be perfect to be moving.”
“Focus on the feeling…” Tsukasa’s eyebrows knit together, and he nods.
Rui uses his phone in his pocket to set the music back up, then zips it away securely. Showtime, he supposes.
Alone in the universe, lost and afraid. But it doesn’t quite fit the same with someone else in the emptiness with him. It’s like they’re searching around each other, blind to each other’s presence. Well, all they’re doing is basically mirroring each other’s movements, after all. Catching Tsukasa’s expression is hard, but Rui is sure it seems unsure, uncertain of what he’s supposed to do. Of course. This is the first dance he’s ever tried.
Rui turns away, trying to mimic how this type of sequence would usually go in a paired skate. It’s not right, is it? Of course he’s imagined how this song would work as a dance, but those are thoughts that should probably stay in his head. The two of them should just stop now- but Tsukasa isn’t giving up. His movements are still hesitant, but there’s a firm resolve in his eyes. He doesn’t fully know what he’s doing but he’s trying anyway. He isn’t stopping to complain or ask to do something else. It’s like it’s- okay.
It’s okay…?
The music changes, a moment of contemplation in the piano as Rui turns to look across the galaxy. Worlds out of reach, too far away to ever grasp. But there’s something closer, isn’t there? If he just turns around to see the light behind him, that person who has always been searching just as fervently as him-
Rui spins back around, and suddenly all the ideas of how to plan this same routine as a paired skate come rushing back, fireworks exploding in his head. There could be a curve lift here, or a soft waltz across the ice. A double set of twizzles. No, Tsukasa could handle more. They would drift apart for a moment as the piano bridge starts, but then Rui holds out his hand and-
He’s getting carried away. Rui quickly retracts his hand, because this isn’t actually a paired dance and the person with him isn’t his partner. But before his hand can reach his side, Tsukasa grabs his palm and pulls his arm back out, holding tight as they pull away from each other. If either of them were to let go, they’d lose their balance, they’d go too far to one side, but they don’t. They’re both connected with one another.
It’s a feeling of security that Rui has never felt before, and it’s a little scary, somehow. Touching that glow he’s chased for so long actually doesn’t hurt at all. The light travels up along his veins and the heat is searing, but none of it is painful. It’s making him glow too. Was there ever any need to feel afraid? It’s so warm.
When Rui manages to catch a glimpse of Tsukasa’s face, he’s grinning brightly back in his direction. And that’s so different that Rui really has no idea what to do with it. All his partners in the past always felt like someone he had to hold at distance, someone he knew couldn’t fully trust him. Even Nene, that net of security had only lasted so long until she had to leave too. He’s so used to being left alone that it feels this time has to be the same, but it isn’t. It’s unnerving, weird and unfamiliar. This person, this smile directing all this light back at him at such an intensity- it can only belong to a star, can’t it?
In a paired skate, Rui would usually hold his partner by the waist here- but this isn’t a paired skate. But if it was, then what? It feels so much more intimate than any skate he’s done before for whatever reason. What’s the story at this point? How ironic that he’s spent so long chastising Tsukasa for the same thing and now he can barely concentrate. He’s supposed to be losing hope of chasing down the stars, he’s supposed to be accepting that this is the way things will always be. Tsukasa is skating like he had back at the first rehearsal, like he does whenever they’re just in a non-focused practice skate. So this is the final answer. It’s so obvious now that he sees it that it’s almost embarrassing.
Rui dares reach out his hand one more time as the ending of the track starts to swell, and Tsukasa grabs it once again with zero hesitation. It must be just because he thinks that’s what he’s supposed to do, and he’s not wrong, but- Rui lets out a breathless laugh anyway. It’s already too late. After this, there’s no way he’ll be able to skate alone ever again.
The last piano note echoes around them, and Rui breathes out, Tsukasa’s fingers still wrapped around his own. This has to be it now. He’s been given enough, so it’s finally time for the fantasy to end-
“That was- really fun!” Tsukasa exclaims, detaching his hand to brush the hair out of his eyes. “It’s a completely different feeling having someone else with you.”
“Yes,” he manages to say. Strangely it doesn’t feel awkward at all, even though it probably should. “You skated…more freely.”
“I did?” He seems relieved. “I was trying to connect with the story, but it got kind of hard towards the end. I mean, you were there, after all.”
“...That’s right. It doesn’t really…make sense.”
“It’s weird not having the jumps too. Usually I’m anticipating them so I can capture everyone’s attention, so without that, I felt like I really had to concentrate to make my other movements equally as captivating. It’s…unexpectedly hard.”
“Precision is important in ice dance. You have to match the music at every beat. Just because there aren’t any jumps, doesn’t mean it’s easy.”
“This might be what I need,” Tsukasa says thoughtfully. “Maybe I’ve been doing the same thing for too long and that’s why I’m stagnating so much. I know we wouldn’t be able to compete at any professional level as a pair, but don’t you think it might be a good way for me to improve my singles?”
“...Potentially. Sometimes approaching from a different angle can help solve the problem.”
“That’s what I think too! And if it’s only a local contest, we should at least try to have a good time, right? Do you want to, Rui?”
“...Huh?” Wait-
“If we change it to something like this instead. Then I can improve, right?”
“Like…this?”
Tsukasa gives him a look. “Do you not want to?”
It won’t go well. Tsukasa hasn’t done ice dance before and Rui hasn’t skated with a partner in years. All the partners he’s had in the past have struggled to get on with him and have always disliked his suggestions. He accepted long ago that if he wants to skate, he has to do so alone. The question is simply ‘do you want to doom yourself, or not?’. So the answer is simple.
“I want to,” Rui says before he can stop himself, and the look Tsukasa gives him stops any thought of retracting that answer. “But- there’s a lot of new elements I’ll need to teach you. Ice dance is very different from singles.”
Tsukasa nods. “Of course!”
“The story will need adjusting,” he continues, starting to move again on the ice to try and settle his heart back down. “And we’ll have to significantly alter the choreography, though I already have some ideas for that. Of course, as the male partner you would usually be expected to perform the lifting, but if you’re skating with me, you might have to take the female role at times too.”
“Well, that’s not such a big deal.”
“Excellent! I'll be sure to include lot of exciting lifts and spins then."
“Of course- wait, lifts?”
“It’ll help you improve your core strength and be more aware of timing. We’ll have to practice off-ice first, of course.” Rui stops himself. “Unless you’d prefer something easier to start…?”
“No, I can do it!” The blaze in his eyes burns so strong that Rui can feel its heat. “So long as you’re willing to teach me, I’m willing to learn!”
“Then I’ll start making edits straight away,” Rui says. “I look forward to seeing what you can show me, Tsukasa.”
"I'll do my best!"
Rui smiles. So there's still something exciting to come, after all.