Chapter Text
Behind the grace is grit.
No one beyond the rink can know
how this art can tear you apart, yet make you whole.
Two knife-thin blades, moving, spinning, leaping.
All that passion, yet the ice kisses back in purple, skin blooming into blood-packed patches.
Resilience, stitched beneath the violet bruising,
It's haunting. It's addicting.
It's you.
You wear your efforts in purple and reds, like petals pressed beneath your skin,
The loneliest form of honesty, the rawest of expression.
Just you, your scars, and the silence in the center of the ice.
In the air, you’re divine. Weightless. Untouchable. You rise like an angel, and crash like a sinner.
Every jump, a prayer, every landing, your judgement.
The ice holds no forgiveness, your body offers no second chances –
the smallest mishap will break you.
You break in silence so the crowd can gasp at how you fly, the loud cheers drown out the noise of your bones shattering.
Straighten yourself out.
Even broken, you’re expected to shine.
Smooth, cold, and cruel.
Watching, no mercy in its frozen stare, only the brutal price of beauty,
Paid in blood, bone, and dreams, lost beneath the frost.
The ice calls for sacrifices,
I volunteer my body.
The ice bites deep and cold
A painful kiss that keeps you alive.
Clear head, steady pace. Keigo knows exactly what he wants. The jumps, the spins, the medals. He seeks the success every skater wants. He ignores his trembling body and aching tenderness in his shins, hovering on quivering edges, setting up for a jump. It’s a cruel and damaging sport, yet it’s the only place on earth where he feels like he belongs. Compared to his peers, he was considered a social outcast, much too focused on figure skating from a young age to connect with anyone outside of it. Madam made sure he stayed on track, her rigorous training reflecting in his skating even when she wasn't there. He could almost see her in the ice when he stumbled.
Out here, time blurs, and the outside world fades to nothing, surrounded only by cool, clean air and empty bleachers. From a young age he knew what he wanted to be, watching the olympics on the television with his mother, he watched as the rivalry between Yagi Toshinori and Todoroki Enji ended and resulted in one switching sports – the failure unbearable.
He continued to skate, working up the strength to go for another jump. He constantly strived for perfection, and his body paid the price for it. Competition season was finally over, and he had been awarded several medals, as well as many reminders of his past victory in the Olympics. Madam had drilled it into his head that he was going to compete in the next one, it was just a matter of how willing he was to sacrifice everything for that success. He could complete a triple lutz and axel with ease, yet the quadruple lutz always stumped him, He’d gotten several injuries because of it, stumbling over again and again. His failure haunts him each practice, so he continues to try, each bruise on his skin a confession – a reminder of his imperfection.
He’d never been an emotional person, but the ice brought something out of him. His cold and cocky personality possessed by his intense love for the sport, body aching, but no sign of stopping.
“Keigo, when are we going home?” Himiko shouts from the boards, irritated at her brother. He ignores her, setting up for another jump.
His worries dissipate when he’s on the ice, it’s something to lift his burdens without pills or a nosey psychologist. In his 17 years of life, he’d had a few run-ins with both.
He could hear a new sound, the scraping of blades against ice that weren't his own. Himiko was steadily approaching him, a stern expression on her face. She’s 12 years old, but has the attitude of a middle aged divorcée, so tantrums were a given considering both of their explosive, contrasting personalities.
“We’ve been here for 5 hours Keigo, it’s freezing.” She continues to complain, though her words go unheard by Keigo, trapped in his own world. She sighed dramatically, skating away to play her artistic program, hoping her brother might snap out of his trance.
She knew he was obsessed with it, it’s all he thought about, all he cared about. If he wasn’t completely satisfied with a skill, he’d shut down and fixate on it until he got it right. He was his own biggest critic – in Keigo's eyes, he had to be perfect. If he wasn’t, he was losing.
There's no failure like second place.
Himiko enjoyed skating, training alongside Kaina rather than Madam like Keigo does. Kaina trained under Madam until eventually retiring from competitions at 18, in her late 20s now but still skating, just as gracefully as she did before. Himiko was glad she trained with Kaina, well aware of what Madam's training does to someone through Keigo and Tsutsumi. She’d talk about the horror stories, participating in international competitions, the overtraining and exhaustion.
She quit eventually, violently throwing her skates at Madam after placing fourth at a big competition – who, by some miracle, did not sue Tsutsumi, despite being left with a nasty scar on her forearm.
Out of breath from her artistic, she decides to take a break at the boards. Watching Keigo, she found herself zoning out,lost in thought.
Himiko often worries for her brother, but it’s not like he wants help from anyone. He hunts his dreams like a feral animal, pushing himself past all limits he currently has. Himiko flinches at the sound of a loud thud echoing throughout the arena, shifting her attention to her brother who she finds helplessly sitting on the ice. She can tell he’s disappointed in himself, but when isn’t he?
Keigo looks over to her with an odd expression she can’t read. Swiftly, he gathers himself and skates over to Himiko, hopping off of the ice onto solid ground for the first time since he arrived.
“What time is it?” Keigo asks her, sitting down next to her sprawling out his long legs, nudging her to make space.
“5:41, It’s almost been 6 hours Keigo, let's leave.” She replies, kicking her undone skates off her feet, stretching out her sore feet and sleazily stuffing her equipment in her bag.
“Shit, that little? I’m going back on.” He tries to lift himself back up, but finds himself bound to the bench, Himiko holding him down with all her little might.
“Please no, Kei, we’re going home!” She whines out, trying to reason with him. Honestly, she could ask Kaina to pick her up – but she’d feel guilty leaving Keigo alone, knowing if she did, he’d skate until he passed out on the ice. Even then, he’d probably be skating in his dreams. That’s why she stays until he’s done his training.
“Can’t you stick to off ice at home in the studio? I could really use a good nap right about now.” She tugged on his sleeves, keeping him seated. It wasn’t very difficult considering how exhausted he was. Beaten, he stopped resisting, and reluctantly began taking his skates off. Himiko, ecstatic that her words got through to him, snagged his bag from the boards, handing it to him and making her way toward the vending machines. Himiko skips off while Keigo takes his sweet time packing up, his movements are slow and shaky – fingers frozen still and entire body clearly tired.
Himiko pressed a white monster and a protein bar to his chest – she knew it had been hours since he last ate. He quickly nipped the drink from her, but hesitated to take the protein bar. If it wasn’t for the pitiful look on his sister’s face, he wouldn’t have even considered it.
He got up from the bench, popping his drink open and taking a sip, walking toward the exit of the rink. Himiko popped open her own drink – an alani pink slush, and trailed behind Keigo like a duckling. She looks up to her brother, placing him on a pedestal ever since they were little. He’d always been her role model.
At least for as far as her memory went, Keigo had always been there.
He was there when she first stepped onto the ice, when she medaled at her first competition, and when she landed her first double.
Keigo had a video of every single time she ever landed a jump for the first time.
After a hasty walk through the parking lot, the two made it to Keigo’s car. Himiko sprung herself into the passenger seat of his car, throwing her bag into the back seat and taking a few more sips of her drink before sticking it in the cupholder.
“Keigo, Ochaco invited me to hang out with her, would it be okay if she came to the rink with us?” She looked at him, abusing her puppy eyes and batting her eyelashes in an attempt to persuade him.
With a small, almost invisible smile, he nodded silently, shutting his door and starting the car.
The radio played quietly while they drove through the city. Himiko stared out of her window at the napalm sky, the sunset peeking out through the thin clouds, painting the nearby buildings an orange hue. The drive home with Keigo is always quiet, she usually texts friends or stares out the window and thinks – she thinks a lot, often finding herself stuck in her own thoughts, similar to how Keigo is during training.
“Himiko, do you know if mom’s making us food for when we get home?” Startled by the abrupt noise after twenty minutes of silence, Himiko thinks for a second before pulling out her phone to text their mom.
“I’ll ask.” She gets a reply before she even has a chance to put her phone down.
ฅ≽(•⩊ •マ۶ৎ
Mommmm did u make food??
Mama ˙𐃷˙:
I made pasta
Are you two on your way back already?
ฅ≽(•⩊ •マ۶ৎ
Ur so alpha mama
Yesss
U saved me some without sauce right
( •̀⤙•́ )
Mama ˙𐃷˙:
Yes
You have your leftover chicken in the fridge, I'm heating it up on the pan with broccoli
ฅ≽(•⩊ •マ۶ৎ
Thank u mama
>⩊<
Love u be home soonnn
Mama ˙𐃷˙:
Love you both lots ♥️
Pointing her screen to Keigo, and instantly realizing he’s behind a wheel, she replies outloud.
“Mom says she made pasta.”
“..Great.”
Doesn’t sound so great, Himiko thinks to herself.
She peeks out the window, met with a familiar street. They were approaching their house, and she leaned over to grab her bag from the back seat, placing it securely in her lap and shoving her phone into one of the side pockets. Her and Keigo had matching figure skating bags, his red and undecorated, and hers a peony pink, which she had been bedazzled with countless Sanrio and Chikawa keychains.
Tapping her bag, Himiko impatiently waited for Keigo to pull into the driveway. Once he’d parked, she frolicked out of her seat and bee-lined for the front door where their mom had been waiting for them. Himiko never spares a moment before jumping out of the car and running home.
They have a quiet supper, Keigo periodically picking up food just to put it back down. He’s never been so good with food. All he can think about is skating, about the spins and jumps he’ll do tomorrow, and how much more torture he’ll subject himself to. His world is unpredictable and easily shaken, the only thing he finds stability in is his intoxicating obsession.
He tried not to think about the bruises painted on his hips and elbows, or about the burning sensation in every one of his muscles. He reminds himself that this pain is temporary, and will inevitably bring him closer to the success he so desperately seeks.
It comforts him a little.
Every one of his peers in the sport wants to be the best, but for Keigo, it's different. A dagger of thoughts and emotions that dig deep into his soul, commanding him to keep going. Keigo doesn’t want to be good. He needs to be the best.
Like any other day, Keigo is back on the ice, trapped in a world with a barrier that no one else can see, isolating himself from everything around him. He’s out of it though, his jumps are lazier and spins half assed. It’s not like he wants them to be like that, but the overtraining and underfueling is finally biting him in the ass.
He’s at the rink earlier than normal, coming later would mean that Kaina and Himiko would be there. He knew they’d scold him, probably for something stupid like “pushing himself too hard.”
Ridiculous, he thinks.
The only way to succeed is to try harder than anyone else.
Keigo, unsurprisingly, falls over yet again, brutally slamming into the boards after attempting a quadruple lutz.
By this point, any sane person would’ve given up.
Not Keigo.
..Keyword, sane person.
Eventually, he forces himself up and skates off to a corner to start setting up again. He knew he’d end up with a nasty bruise or worse by the end of the day, but he’d keep trying until he managed to land one.
Just one. That’s all he needs. Then he’ll leave it alone.
He steadies himself, just before picking his foot back, his focus unravels once hears the dressing room door slam open.
“Woo, you got that Keigo!” A familiar voice rings out. He knows who it is, and tries to sneak a glance mid-rotation.
What a smart idea.
His arms slightly check out, momentum goes to shit, and he violently slips off his landing, landing flat on his hip, pathetically sliding backwards on the ice before he slams the back of his head on the boards, finally coming to a proper stop.
He audibly groans in pain. The arena echos with his obvious distaste.
Himiko bites her lip in worry before skating over to Keigo, who’s taking longer than usual to get up after a fall. Reaching out to him, Keigo swats her hand away and helps himself up, using the boards that just assaulted him for assistance. He’s shaking in pain, but tries to ignore it. He skates away from Himiko to avoid seeing her anguished face. He’ll push through this, he thinks. He always does. Kaina skates over to Himiko, looking over at Keigo every few words.
He knows they're talking about him.
He doesn’t care. They can talk all they want, it doesn’t matter to him.
Only one thing does.
He redirects his attention to the boards where the dressing rooms are, and makes his way over.
“Touya, what the hell are you doing here?” He asks him, notes of confusion and irritation laced in his voice. Touya only offers a toothy grin before shrugging. Keigo rolls his eyes and skates away slowly, continuing to train despite the almost unbearable pain in his hip. He chooses to focus on spins for the remainder of the session, not wanting to humiliate himself further in front of anyone else.
In all honesty, he’s happy to see Touya, he just didn’t want him to see him like this. Keigo mentally berates himself for getting distracted. This wouldn’t have happened if he would've just focused.
Just focus.
He gets off of the ice earlier than expected, slamming the door of the change room behind himself and throwing his jacket off.
He sits down, and suddenly, his adrenaline wears off and he can feel everything again.
Keigo's body is burning, despite being out in the cold for so long. His blood pools together and writes confessions of failure all over his skin.
He hates bruises.
His head is full of static, all he can think about is how little progress was made with his quad lutz, and how much of a disappointment he is.
He folds in half, pressing his forehead to his knees.
Seething with anger.
Without missing a beat, he’s back on the ice – now completely ignoring the pain. He needs this, he can’t leave without trying one more time, maybe this time he’d actually make it.
He’d actually land it.
He glides along the ice, an angel on blades. Artistry has always been one of his strong suits.
His skates are his paintbrush, and the ice his canvas. Taking careful and considerate note of each move, each incision into the cold, smooth ground, he sets up again, determined.
Nothing can distract him now.
He picks back and launches himself into the air. He clearly felt the outside edge before the takeoff, and he could feel himself right above his feet, a perfectly straight axis. He can feel the eyes on him. He can’t mess this up now, every odd is in his favour.
He lands it. But too deep.
He slips off of the intense landing, and slams back onto the ice.
The same hip is forced against the rude cold and his limp body is thrown against the boards of the rink for what seems to be the millionth time.
But he can’t ignore it this time, he shakes in pain, taking deep breaths, eyes wide and mind running. He slowly brings himself to sit down onto the ice, heaving. He’s unable to think of anything but the pain. He can hear Kaina shouting from across the rink – the words sound like static, and his head is fuzzy from his vision blurring. He tries to move his leg, but collapses back onto the ice instead, exhaustion and agony annexing him entirely. He stares up at the fluorescent lights, trying to catch his breath and find the strength to stand up.
He finds none, and has no more fight to give. Kaina skates over, squatting down beside him in an attempt to get him back up, he doesn’t react to her, head filled with cotton and fog. Nothing feels real, the throbbing in his hip and the pounding in his head confiscate his mind entirely.
He’s dragged up by Kaina, who helps him shift himself into a position where he’s putting less pressure on his legs.
Himiko is on his other side and they help him to the boards.
“What the fuck were you thinking, Keigo?” Kaina scolds him, voice drowning with worry.
He expected that response, so he doesn’t listen.
A single tear comes out of his eye. It’s not special. There’s millions more of his tears, just frozen beneath this ice.
He knew the price. He knew, and he paid in advance.
So why did the ice take so much this time?
He thought about all the extra training, on and off the ice.
He thought of all the weird restrictive diets he put himself on.
He thought of all the doctor visits, advising him not to skate.
He rebelled every single time, and he was fine. So why now?
Eventually, the roaring in his ears snap him back into reality, he’s seated on the bench behind the board doors, Himiko teary face at his side and Kaina on the other.
Someone is in front of him. He doesn’t have the courage to look. Not after that.
Madam will be so disappointed. Hell, he was disappointed in himself. He musters up the strength, and finally glances over to Touya.
He doesn’t want to think about his expression. He focuses on his once white hair, now black and dull. His eyes are still the same menacing, yet enticing ocean blue he remembers.
He’s always loved Touya's eyes.
But right now, his eyes now foster a grain of pity.
Keigo doesn’t like that.