Chapter Text
Before
Nagi didn’t think he would get used to it; the cheers, the music, the cold caressing his skin for two minutes or more. All while he twirled and jumped, covered in rhinestones and sequins. All eyes were on him, like a circus monkey.
There was a reason he hadn’t wanted to compete. Even after Reo insisted on him joining his team, Nagi knew competitions would ruin the fun for him. When skating was something so… personal, competitions turned it into a show.
What was so beautiful about figure skating, anyway?
But here he was, watching Reo skate back towards their coach as clapping ensued around the rink. Somehow, even after protesting and refusing for years, Nagi ended up here, at Nationals.
“Well done, Reo!” Mrs. Zantetsu praised him, her smile matching his. They had worked together on this routine for months, and such a clean execution was only a product of their tireless efforts. “That spin was beautiful.”
“What about the Axel? What did you think?” He asked right away, bouncing on his heels like a kid instead of a fifteen-year-old.
She laughed. “Good, good. You nailed it,” after weeks and weeks of frustrating practice. “But the Biellman spin… Listen to me, most men cannot pull something like that.”
Reo nodded at her praise, enthusiastic. But even if his flexibility was improving, only the jumps were the center of his attention. His struggle with them was at the forefront of his mind. Without jumps or combinations, a skater couldn’t make it to the podium nowadays without three or four rotations.
And he wanted to defend his national title.
When Zantetsu finished talking, Reo went straight to Nagi, who was lazily stretching on the bench. “Nagi, did you see my 3A? Did you see me?” His purple eyes sparkled with childish glee. He thrived on praise, and Nagi didn’t know it yet, but Reo was trying to impress him in particular. “That was awesome, wasn’t it?”
“I thought you were going to fall.” Nagi lied. In reality, he hadn’t seen the whole program and was just randomly guessing based on what he had seen in practice before.
“What? Why?” Reo cocked his head, thrown off guard. “Was there something wrong with the execution? You think I’ll lose any points?”
When Nagi didn’t answer, Reo sat down at his side, staring at him as if studying his body language. They had been friends for a few years, and Reo still couldn’t figure Nagi out. Instead of losing patience over it, he seemed to like not knowing what to expect and having to, for once, make an effort in his friendships.
“Hey,” he bumped their shoulders, wondering if Nagi was feeling nervous for the first time since he’s met him. “You did great at your short program, too. Even if I win the gold, you’ll get to be on the podium. Your dad must be proud of you. I am proud. Whether we win or not, my dad said we could order pizza tonight. We haven’t had pizza in months!”
Right, stupid dietary restrictions, another reason why Nagi found training and competitive figure skating so bothersome. If Nagi hadn’t forgotten Reo’s birthday last year, he wouldn’t have given in to please him. But being here was the price he had to pay for his lack of consideration.
“Thank you.” He said, given that Reo was trying to be nice. “Do you really think you’ll get gold?”
“Uh, I mean… I don’t want to brag or anything, but I was the only one to land the triple Axel perfectly, right? Even you struggle with it too. And I managed to do a quad in my short program, which got me lots of points.”
Suddenly, the public began to cheer again. Zantetsu’s son, a kid their age whose glasses were too big for his face, nudged Reo, bringing his attention to the scores finally displayed on the big screen over the judging panel.
And back to number 1, he was. Nagi thought it made sense since he had been the best the year prior. On the other hand, Reo knew his biggest challenger hadn’t skated yet, so nothing was really as settled as he liked to pretend.
He smiled at Nagi regardless. “That already puts me above the others, doesn’t it?.”
“Right.”
Zantetsu called for Nagi to prepare, so he stood up after double-checking the state of his shoelaces. Reo tugged at his jacket, reminding Nagi to take it off. He folded the garment over his lap, smiling more authentically now. “Okay, good luck! I’ll be watching from right here.” And when Nagi began skating away, Reo shouted: “Don’t break a leg!”
“It’s ‘break a leg’, and you’re only supposed to use it in theater,” Tsurugi chimed in. What an expert in idioms and other figures of speech he was. Reo rolled his eyes, so far entertained.
Even if spotlights weren’t used anymore, Nagi felt like he was moving under one the second he stepped into the ice. He was an ant under a magnifying glass, as ordinary as everybody else but, for some reason, dissected by alien gazes following his every move.
“Please welcome the next skater! From VT Skating Club, Nagi Seishiro!”
Then silence reigned until it was replaced by the slow and progressive sound of a bass, voiceless musical notes that marked the beginning of his choreography. He moved with ease, breaking his starting position.
From there, it was all muscle memory. And it was fun, too, the way his body floated on two blades, one after the other. Footwork, going backwards for a jump. Nagi landed on one leg and felt free and powerful, emotions that one could only get from performing, not watching. Everybody gasped.
Maybe he would never understand being on the other side of the show, but if he ignored the faceless fans on the stands, he could imagine being by himself. The music was merely a mark for when and where to pull his stunts.
Zantetsu said his body was made for the ice, that his knees had been specially created to jump high enough. No one had told him yet that he lacked passion because even if that was obvious in every performance, it almost didn’t affect his scores.
Nagi liked skating; he wouldn’t do it if he hated it, don’t get him wrong. But the part of creating a routine and being one with the music was where the problems arose. He just disliked putting on a performance.
When Nagi was done, he was sweating on his temples, his chest rising and falling with fatigue. Ovations rang in his ear, a bitter aftertaste from an otherwise satisfying program. People loved him, even if he didn’t love them. It was hard to process.
“Spectacular! That was spectacular! That’s on some senior level, Nagi!” Zantetsu rushed to say, grinning as she pulled him into a hug once he had reached the sidelines.
Nagi allowed it, coming down from his adrenaline rush with a serene expression. A pinkish hue covered the bridge of his nose, reddening his cheeks in response to the physical exertion. From over Zantetsu’s shoulder, he saw Reo, looking back at him.
“Wow,” was all he had to say.
Nagi put on his skater guards and walked close in awkward steps, unsure of what to say. “I fucked up my choreo,” he pointed out, though it had been almost unnoticeable.
“Well… no one saw that,” Reo assured him, not excited but not disappointed either, despite it being obvious to him that Nagi would now steal his spot. “How can you do quads like that and make them look so easy? All while being so tall, it’s- you’re incredible.”
And his voice turned soft, with some awe lingering in it. Nagi couldn’t know what it meant; he only relaxed when realizing it was a sign of anything but resentment.
“You think so?” He grinned slightly, “but quads are easy.”
“Quads are the future,” their coach said, squeezing Nagi’s shoulder while his score was announced. As expected, he had pushed Reo to second place. Zantetsu patted Reo’s head in a comforting gesture. “But triple Axels will forever have everyone’s hearts,” she promised.
“It’s okay, I don’t mind.”
Nagi decided to take his word for truth. “You know who’s next?”
“Isagi Yoichi, I think?” Tsurugi replied as soon as Reo looked at him with questioning eyes. Half a minute later, his assumption was confirmed, as said skater was called next. They watched Isagi intently, and for the first minute or so, the guy skated sharply. On his first attempt at a quad salchow, however, he wobbled. “Yep, there he is. He’s fallen on his ass twice in his short program, too.”
“Tsuru, quiet. Everyone falls every now and then.”
“He was teammates with Kira Ryuousuke. Maybe it’s the stress of having to live up to that.” Reo theorized quietly.
“As if one could live up to him….”
“Tsuru, enough.” His mother scolded. Isagi continued to skate with a determined expression on his face, doing a fantastic job at ignoring the small mistakes he was making. His perseverance was probably the most impressive part of his program. “I think he’s quite something, don’t you agree?”
Tsurugi snorted. “Nagi is already dozing off.”
Reo had to hit him on the back of his head for Nagi to wake up. So much training in the past few weeks had gotten his body more tired than usual since he wasn’t really used to working hard or under pressure.
“Uh- sorry,” he apologized, out of obligation more than actual shame. “But why should we watch when we already know he won’t surpass us?” It wasn’t like Isagi stood a chance against him or Reo, not even against whoever would claim bronze.
Zantetsu furrowed her brows at his question. “Nagi, don’t be disrespectful. When other skaters are on the rink, you pay them attention.”
“He can barely land his triples. Is that the best Blue Lock can send to nationals?”
“He’s probably had better days. Even Olympic champions can crack under pressure.”
“Maybe this is because of his coach. He’s training with Ego Jinpachi, and Ego’s never trained juniors before.” Reo chipped in right before Nagi could say something cold that would seriously paint him as the biggest douchebag ever.
At that, Tsurugi delved into the topic he knew more about: skating teams and their drama. “Ego is a jerk. They say he overworked Kira in his senior group and that Kira left Blue Lock within the first month of training. He’s doing so much better with another coach now. How dare Ego mistreat him? We’re talking about the Junior Grand Prix champion; he represented Japan in Junior Worlds.”
“But he never won Nationals,” Reo teased, biting his lip to hide his smirk.
Tsurugi narrowed his eyes at that. “What’s nationals next to international competitions?”
“If he’s so good, he should’ve beaten me last year.” The only reason why Reo, as a gold medallist, hadn’t been sent to represent Japan for Worlds was that he didn’t make it to the Grand Prix Finals thanks to a stupid slip. That would never happen again. “He’s done once me and Nagi do our senior debuts, right?”
And he looked at Nagi with utmost hope, so much that Nagi’s big, fat NO got stuck on his throat. Was he really going to follow Reo to the seniors’ division when figure skating was so not his thing as a competitive sport?
Their coach motioned at them to stand up, and Reo went to her, so Nagi had to follow. “They’re about to announce his results,” Zantetsu explained with each teen by her side. Pride and excitement showed on her face, and, as predicted, Isagi’s scores were less than stellar, not affecting the upper rankings at all. “Yes! My little national champions, my silver, and gold!” She hugged them, one with each strong arm.
“You’re squeezing me-” Nagi complained, hearing Reo giggle on the opposite end.
He supposed he could get used to this part about the team spirit or whatever. Often, hearing others congratulate him didn’t do much for Nagi, but Zantetsu was the perfect balance of friendly and stern, motherly in ways Nagi could only wish for his own mother to be.
“Uhm, mom?” Tsurugi called.
They detangled from each other, both athletes getting a few pats on the back. Zantetsu turned around only to find Ego Jinpaichi waiting for them. Or, more specifically, for Nagi. His coach smiled politely, “oh, hi.”
“Mrs Zantetsu,” he acknowledged before walking to her students with both hands inside his pockets and a confident stance. “Congratulations, Nagi, Mikage.” Not even a hint of a smile, nor interest for the second skater. “Nagi Seishiro, I’d like to talk to you privately once the event is over.”
The boy looked around to his coach and friend for advice, unsure of how to handle this. At Reo’s urgent nods, Nagi mumbled an “okay.”
A smirk tugged at the corner of Ego’s mouth, seeing that his fish had caught the bait. “Good. If you can’t find me after the medal ceremony, tell someone from Team Blue Lock. They’ll know what to do.”
He retreated, addressing Zantetsu for a private conversation that Tsurugi tried to overhear. Reo pulled Nagi to the side in the meantime, seeing as everyone else was distracted.
“He wants to steal you away, Mr. Gold medallist,” he said, sounding happy about it.
“Uh, but he’s like a dictator, right?” Nagi asked, having only heard of Ego from Tsurugi’s comment moments before. “Skating isn’t fun when you actually have to work for it.”
“Pfft, that’s such a you thing to say.”
“Would you leave Mrs Zantetsu to skate with Ego? He crushed Kira.”
But Reo seemed to know more of Ego, or at least, he had given it thought before. “I like training with them, but who says it’s Ego’s fault that Kira left? Ego has created programs for other gold medallists; he himself went to the Olympics once. Kira chose to train with him for a reason… We know he’s going to produce the next best skaters; all his seniors have at least one international competition under their belts.”
“So you would switch coaches if given the chance?”
Nagi wasn’t sure about continuing to compete, and now Reo was also telling him to change the only environment Nagi believed he could stand?
Reo frowned, “Mrs Zantetsu doesn’t train seniors, and I’m not sure I can stay in VT without her.”
“She said she would make an exception for us,” Nagi argued.
They weren’t fighting; Reo didn’t like fighting Nagi, even if he could get his way after every single argument. He sighed, “I don’t know, Sei. I’m just saying. I want a good senior debut.”
To Reo, figure skating was important. He loved the sensation of flying, and he had told Nagi before that he liked having this one thing be his, without his parent’s influence. He may be doing great in juniors, but going to the Olympics — a dream he tried to share with Nagi — was something he could only do once in seniors.
And Nagi wasn’t stupid. If Ego had come to talk to him and his coach personally, it meant he was interested in having Nagi as a student for his senior years. Did Reo want Ego to coach him too? Because if Nagi wasn’t interested in competitive figure skating, to begin with, he was even less interested in going where Reo couldn’t come along.
If he talked to Ego about it, would Ego give Reo the same offer? Push him one step closer to his Olympic dream?
“Nagi, let’s go.” Zantetsu snapped him out of it, with her hands on her hips and an impatient crease between her brows. Something could be bothering her, although she tried to conceal it well. “At least try to smile a little this time, okay?”
“First place, and National Gold Medallist, Nagi Seishiro!”
After being announced, Nagi went into the rink, skating to the podium and doing what Reo had taught him for the very first time: bowing in the middle of the rink to every side where the public was. He made a small bunny hop on the way to his place and got on the platform awkwardly. How long did medal ceremonies take anyway?
“Second place, and with a silver medal, Mikage Reo!”
Unlike Nagi, Reo entered with a smile from ear to ear. He spread both arms theatrically before each bow and skated backward towards the podium to spin beautifully before reaching it. He liked the recognition, the attention, and when he bowed to the first place, Nagi felt out of place standing so above.
“Third place, bronze medal, Aryu Jyubei!”
While the cameras focused on the upcoming skater, Nagi leaned slightly to his side, trying to talk hushedly. “Reo,” he said.
“Yes?”
“You don’t mind going from reigning champion to second best?”
Reo examined him. For a moment, Nagi imagined him confessing he was furious or disappointed. In the end, Reo shook his head with a reassuring smile. “This is just juniors, and there are national competitions every year. If I had to lose to someone, it’s nice that it was you. Silver’s never felt better.”
And he was telling the truth.
Now
“God, my left foot is so fucking numb.”
Isagi finished tying his shoelaces, finally done with changing back to his casual clothes. He had been practicing hard, training all day now that both he and Nagi were considered Japan’s best chances at winning the Grand Prix.
But hey, no pressure.
Nagi snorted; he had been waiting for him. They usually walked together on their way home. “Good thing all your blisters are on it. At least you didn’t complain about them today.”
Isagi rolled his eyes. He wasn’t that much of a crybaby. “You know how chicks say beauty is pain? Skating is the real pain. Ego always says, If you aren’t willing to fall-”
“You’re not willing to learn, I know,” Nagi completed. He pushed the main door open, and Isagi waved politely to the people at the reception. It was late, and aside from staff, the rink was almost empty. “Thought you would’ve memorized some of Noel’s quotes by now,” he added.
“Noel,” Isagi huffed. “He’s Mr. Noa to you, dickhead. I’m the one training under him.”
“How lucky,” Nagi whistled, just to mock him.
Isagi brushed it off, laughing. “Yep, all while you’re stuck with good old Ego.”
“I’m still beating you, though.”
“Not for long….” Isagi quieted down, looking at the empty bus stop in the next street. When he and Nagi were worked down to their bones, they usually took the bus for a shortcut to at least three streets.
Habits were hard to break, and even worse were routines. But considering no bus was there yet, and they were better off just walking, Isagi finally voiced a proposition that had been running through his head since they left. “Let’s go to the hamburger place,” he smiled. Then, “the guys are already there.”
Like Isagi expected, Nagi focused on the first part of the sentence to avoid growing annoyed at the second. “Thought hamburgers go against your diet.”
“I’ll choose something different, c’mon….” Isagi insisted.
“Just call it a cheat day,” Nagi shrugged, still focused on the food.
Isagi went along with him. “Oh no, I’m not cheating.”
“You sure? Don’t you want a juicy, cheesy, big, and oily hamburger to bite into? With those slightly crispy buns to top it off, yum.”
Isagi sighed, “… I absolutely despise you.” Who would have thought he would end up with an actual craving?
“Or you could go home to your mother’s miso soup. It’s not like there’s no choice.”
Oh, there it was.
“You just want out from this outing,” Isagi said. That was why whenever they hung out, Isagi had to count Nagi in without asking. If he dared ask, Nagi would straight up refuse. And if he told Nagi in advance, the gamer would simply leave early.
So Isagi preferred to corner him. And considering Nagi was often chill instead of confrontational, Isagi’s plans always worked in his favor because Nagi gave in.
They turned the corner, and the bold, red restaurant sign was already visible. Nagi cringed. “Is it so obvious?”
Isagi nodded. Honestly, Nagi’s hermit habits were considered a personality trait by most people who knew him by now. “You need more friends, Nagi. I can’t be your only friend.”
Nagi frowned at that, almost unnoticeable. “Bachira’s my friend too.”
And speaking of the devil… “Well, Bachira just saw us.”
“Fuck, can’t we just skip?” Nagi felt tired already, not only from the training but mainly the social interaction with people he didn’t necessarily like. “There’s an arcade down the block, and it’s open until ten….” He tried to bribe.
“I knew it!” Isagi yelled. He had correctly guessed that Nagi would try to avoid hanging out with anyone who wasn’t part of his exclusive and tiny friend group, even though they were talking about some other skaters from Blue Lock, with whom Nagi was already familiar. “Choose civilization for once, Nagi; we already agreed on hanging out today. Chigiri will be there, you know.”
And Nagi had nothing against the guy, but he still made a face. “So?”
“So this is your chance to… you know,” Isagi gestured wildly.
“To what?”
“Flirt.” He deadpanned.
Nagi almost laughed at the suggestion. “I don’t see Chigiri that way.”
“Oh, but you have so much in common!”
“Right, like skating. What else?”
“Great point. You’d make an awesome couple, though. I’m sure you’d be compatible.” Isagi went on to say, rubbing his chin like a character from a cartoon does when they are thinking. “Oh! Yeah, you both laugh at the kids who fall at the rink.”
“Everybody laughs,” Nagi corrected.
“None of the seniors do,” Isagi clarified. “You two are just mean.”
How couldn’t he laugh when children fell in the most ridiculous ways? Like little deers or overgrown babies learning to walk. Nagi never meant to be cruel, and he was sure Chigiri — with his sweet smiles and competitive banter — never intended to be rude either.
Chigiri was actually nice. Nagi didn’t spend too much time with him because they were only teammates, not real friends, but that was more Nagi’s fault for being so closed off and hard to get through. They have been roommates at a few international events, and his company was always calm and appreciated.
However, Nagi didn’t know him as much as Isagi liked to think. And it wasn’t in his plans to understand him that intimately either. “Well, forget it. Love doesn’t interest me even in a simulator.” After trying one, he never accepted sponsors from those types of video games ever again. “It’s too much work.”
Isagi narrowed his eyes, not believing him one bit. The last time a romantic thought crossed Nagi’s mind was far too long ago — almost two years now —so Nagi raised his brow in response, challenging Isagi to say something. In the end, Isagi turned around and pulled the door at the hamburger restaurant, letting himself in without further discussions.
Nagi trailed behind, the pungent smell of meat already tickling his nose and causing his mouth to water. On a corner, Bachira’s brown and yellow head was visible. He sat with the other skaters, two guys from pair skating, and his close friend from the ice dancing category.
That last guy, Eita, was talking as he ate his fries, his half-eaten hamburger forgotten on his tray. And the first one of the group to spot them must have been Kunigami, who was probably the least interested in the story. “Hey,” he waved.
“Guys!” Bachira immediately greeted. “I was wondering if you were gonna enter or just stare from outside!”
“Sup”
“Hi,” Chigiri smiled, scooting to the side to make some space for any of them to sit.
Isagi ended up next to him while Nagi borrowed a chair from the next table. “Hope we didn’t interrupt some major story.”
“It’s about Ego’s dating ban for Eita,” Bachira explained.
“He gave you one after what happened with Rika?”
Eita nodded. He was a bit of a womanizer and didn’t look too devastated about the ban since it probably wouldn’t really prohibit him anyway. One thing was dating; another very different was hooking up with people to relieve stress, as he put it. “Yep, said I shouldn’t do that with competition or coworkers. And then he fired her, and now she hasn’t answered any of my calls.”
Just because Nagi hadn’t been interested in pursuing romantic relationships with people of his team, it didn’t mean other skaters hadn’t done it. Most of the time, guys who didn’t participate in singles developed feelings for their female partners. And guys like Eita, well, they went as far as flirting with staff members.
“She wasn’t worth it anyway, said some mean shit to Hinata the other day,” Chigiri commented, now that they had brought Rika up. “Me and my partner struggle with our lifts, right? And I always tell Hinata it’s because of my technique, because it is, it’s this dumb leg. But when we went to Dr. Sato for our usual check-up, Rika commented on how Hinata’s weight could be the problem, and she’s been self-conscious ever since.”
Kunigami and Nagi exchanged looks over the table; what a nasty, nasty thing to say in an environment where eating disorders were a rampant issue. Eita didn’t look surprised at Chigiri’s revelation. “I never said she was a good person. I just said she had a nice pair of-”
“Don’t finish that sentence in my presence, please,” Kunigami cut him off, scrunching his face like he truly didn’t want to hear. Always the gentleman.
Eita let it go, not that interested in talking about women or Rika anyway. Chigiri was going to ask Isagi and Nagi if they would just stay put the entire time without ordering themselves a meal, but before his sarcastic voice bloomed, he got distracted by Kunigami’s phone ringing.
As soon as it had vibrated, Kunigami was typing a reply. For someone who considered using the phone on the table nothing short of disrespectful, it was suspicious, to say the least.
“Kuni, what are you staring at your phone so much for?” Chigiri pressed, bringing everyone’s attention to him.
Kunigami looked up to all the curious eyes. “Me?”
“Yeah, is it your brother?” He guessed, teasingly. “Maybe about how you forgot to wash his clothes before school again, and he had to wear the wrong uniform?”
Nagi was thankful he was born an only child. He could barely deal with his portion of housework duty. Imagine having to look after a little sibling too!
“Don’t remind me,” Kunigami groaned, taking his soda in hand and squeezing the can with frustration. “I love him, but he finds the worst excuses to fight me. He used to be so cute before, too. It’s just tiring at this point.”
“He’s at that age where he feels misunderstood. But, because you’re also in an authoritative role, he’ll take it out on you,” Eita mentioned, understanding his situation better than anyone because of his relationship with his older siblings.
“I know, thanks.”
After some more conversation, Nagi’s stomach grumbled, demanding dinner. He got up and walked to the counter with Isagi’s order written down on a napkin because he was already up while Isagi was sharing some anecdote, and Nagi could do him a favor. Nagi returned with their trays right as Bachira took hold of the conversation again.
“So, where’s Rin?” He wondered.
Bachira often looked out for Rin, seemed to have a special admiration for him, maybe even a soft spot. After Rin got stuck with him at a training camp, Bachira began to keep an eye on him, although Nagi’s never heard what exactly happened between them.
Isagi considered sharing all the drama and presumably decided not to. “Uh, he just couldn’t come….”
Which wouldn’t surprise anybody because if Nagi was a loner with a constantly low social battery, Rin was ten times worse. Rin liked keeping people away, probably out of trust issues or whatnot. Nagi could relate, except he wasn’t mean about it.
And because Rin was a jerk whose reputation was hardly likable anyway, Nagi thought sharing what had actually happened to Rin wouldn’t make everyone’s impressions on him any worse.
“Ego forbade him from coming to Blue Lock. He told security Rin was on forced leave and to not let him in under any circumstances.”
Isagi glared at him like it was some big secret. Please, every guy who had been on that rink last Wednesday had at least a part of the gossip memorized since staff couldn’t stop talking about how it all went down the day prior.
“What? What did he do?” Kunigami asked, bewildered. Under what circumstances did one ban their best chance at international gold from training?
“Knowing Rin? Anything is possible,” Chigiri muttered.
Opposite his friends, Bachira’s reaction was accompanied by a dreamy smile. “Ugh, he’s so cool….”
“Well, Ego told him to take some rest until his hip was back to normal, so he stopped coming, and now he won’t participate in the upcoming Grand Prix,” Nagi said.
Rin has had an issue with his hip after an awful fall months ago, and because he was, as Kunigami highlighted, Japan’s best shot for Olympic gold, Ego wanted to prevent a stress fracture for the next two years.
“Any idea who might be subbed in instead?” Who would Japan invite to take his place as a representative skater?
Isagi answered before biting into his burger. “Not really. Ego’s training harder with Raichi, but I don’t think he’ll make it. It will probably be someone outside of Blue Lock.”
“Thing is,” Nagi centered back the conversation on what mattered, “Rin kept coming every day to watch everyone else practice. He was everywhere, like a hawk.”
“Ego thought it would distract the other skaters, so he told Rin to come only three times a week tops if he wanted to watch.” Isagi sighed. “As you can already imagine, Rin began to sneak in with excuses to try and study Nagi and me under his little microscope. So Ego had to forcefully kick him out until he recovers.”
Eita stole one of Isagi’s fries and talked as he chewed on it. “Sucks. He must be dying to get back on the ice.”
“But it was the right decision for his career in the long-term,” Chigiri commented, with all his knowledge about injuries coming in handy.
“Ah, I thought he was ignoring me since I saw him in disguise the other day at Blue Lock, and he completely brushed me off. Poor thing, I’ll miss his grumpy face.” Bachira lamented. “He should come to see us anyway. Did no one tell him we would meet up today?”
Isagi huffed out a laugh. He hadn’t told Rin because in all these years they had known each other, Rin’s always refused to give him his number. “I couldn’t even try, but good luck with that. I don’t think Rin considers any of us tentative friends.”
“Speak for yourself,” Bachira smirked.
“He’s apathetic,” Nagi said, “but I don’t think I would want to hear us all talk about skating if I were off the ice for who knows how long.”
“Fair, fair.”
While they munched on their food, the ding of Kunigami’s phone was heard again, obnoxiously loud in the relaxed and calm environment. Kunigami tried to check his cell phone, but Bachira moved it out of reach before Kunigami could even read whatever message he had received.
“Enough of this. What’s so freaking important, huh, tough guy?”
“Give it back, Bachira. I’m serious,” Kunigami had to demand because Bachira sat right in front of him, and Kunigami couldn’t quite get his phone back himself while so far away.
“Alright, but you’ll answer me first….” Bachira teased, reading Kunigami’s private conversation and growing excited over it. “Who is this Reo?”
The name immediately made Isagi freeze and tense up like an electric cord. Chigiri’s eyes widened, and he peeked at Nagi before looking away, probably searching for a reaction. Too bad that Nagi didn’t even flinch.
There were millions of Reo’s in Japan, and Nagi’s Reo didn’t exist anymore.
“No one important,” Kunigami gritted his teeth, the image of annoyance incarnated.
“Then why is Asuka talking about giving him a big welcome? She says, and I quote, ‘Make him feel like home’” Bachira raised his brows like he himself was surprised by the information. “Are you perhaps hiding a long-distance boyfriend from us?”
“God, you’re such a gossip.” Kunigami snapped, snatching his phone back as soon as Bachira lowered his guard. His cheeks grew slightly red at the interrogation, though. “We met at camp last year in Canada. But he’s from here, actually, has a famous family name even, or something along those lines.”
Millions of Reos in the world, why was Kunigami describing the only one that has ever mattered?
Canada, huh? Nagi didn’t even have a way to confirm it. Sometimes he assumed Reo lived somewhere in Japan, keeping a low profile. And sometimes, he thought Reo went to an English-speaking country or to China because he could speak Mandarin fluently as well. But, most of the time, Nagi didn’t think of him at all. It would only be a waste of his time.
And Reo probably never thought of him either. Why would he? When he didn’t care for Nagi enough to tell him where he was moving to or why he was leaving.
“Is he your boyfriend?” Chigiri inquired, bulging eyes fixed on Nagi.
Who cares? Just like Nagi’s life didn’t stop when Reo went away, Reo’s life must have kept going.
Kunigami grew redder at the question and also angrier. “No, God, no. We’re friends. You really think I wouldn’t have told you if I had a partner or something?”
“I mean, even Asuka knows him, right? So he must be special.” Chigiri pushed.
“Okay, Asuka is closer to him than me. Can you believe that? Asuka? Yes, I know, the biggest surprise coming out of that camp. But hey, it’s all cordial and friendly and professional, okay? Don’t get it twisted.”
“Awww,” Bachira joked, shoulder to shoulder with Eita, who was also amused. “So he stole Asuka’s attention from you?”
Kunigami cursed them, explaining what everyone already knew; he wasn’t romantically interested in Asuka, that she and Reo weren’t into each other either, and so forth. Isagi interrupted, sipping from his drink to conceal his interest in the subject of their conversation.
“He’s doing pairings? Mikage Reo?”
Which would make sense because lots of skaters who quit singles ended up pursuing pairing activities, whether dancing on ice or figure skating as duos. At the same time, however, it didn’t make any sense because Reo was one of those bright stars that didn’t do well sharing the spotlight.
Kunigami drank from his soda can before indulging them with gossip. “He’s in singles, but his team coaches were hosting our camp, so he was there, and that’s how we met.” He explained. “He always followed Shidou and Mei-Ling like a baby duck; they’re the Canadian representatives for Worlds and probably fan favorites since last year. Fortunately, we’re in different categories. They dance while me and Asuka like jumps and stuff.”
“Oh, cool,” Isagi replied, not at all satisfied with deviating from the topic.
After Reo went MIA, everyone believed he had quit skating since he didn’t show up at competitions with another team or coach. Reo was gone overnight. And about that, Nagi only knew two things; his dad said Reo was on a plane going somewhere for college and that Reo had ghosted them all; Nagi, Isagi, Rin, and Chigiri. Even Tsurugi from his former team. His online presence was null, too, at least during the time Nagi sought him out.
“What? You know him or something?” Kunigami narrowed his eyes.
“Yeah, the name does ring a bell…, didn’t we have a Reo at Blue Lock before?” Eita added.
“Right…”
“We debuted as seniors together,” Nagi finally admitted. Reo wasn’t supposed to be important anymore. So talking about him shouldn’t be weird. “Didn’t he retire?”
“No?” Kunigami looked at him with incredulity, as if Nagi knew nothing. “He skates often, practices a lot. Actually, he came to compete at a few minor events, probably to get enough points for the Grand Prix. He’s still Japanese, after all, but he was on an indefinite hiatus for a while.”
“Wow,” Nagi simply said. Wow indeed.
Did Nagi expect Reo to retire? Not really. It would’ve gone against the stubbornness that characterized him or characterized whoever he was when they were seventeen, a kid who refused to give up on his dreams no matter the cost. Nevertheless, Nagi’s had enough time to think about Reo. Back when he disappeared, and considering how unstable he had become those last weeks when everyone assumed Reo retired, Nagi couldn’t help but agree because believing he had quit was probably for the best.
Nagi was someone who accepted that things were what they were, that they happened for a reason or no reason at all. Shit went down; what could one do? He had no regrets; he hadn’t done Reo wrong. Still, Isagi and Chigiri were staring at him like he would break any second, and he despised that worry; he was fine. It’s been two years.
Isagi must have been so busy analyzing him that he cut the conversation’s flow, falling into silence. He only snapped out of it when Bachira pulled at a strand of his hair and, with big inquisitive eyes, asked: “Are you gonna finish that?” While pointing at the fries.
Isagi brushed him off, pushing the fries towards him. “If Reo’s back,” He told Kunigami, furrowing his brows. “Do you know if it’s permanent? Does he have a coach already?”
The figure skater felt his mouth slightly dry at the hasty interrogation. Kunigami didn’t like being out of the loop, and he suspected he was missing something. “No, he only came to compete. His coach, Anri, got him out of his slump, so he’s like… mad loyal to her. He wouldn’t leave her team under any circumstance, although I heard that she didn’t come with him this time, the ice dancers did.”
This would be fitting because Nagi had heard Blue Lock would organize more international camps this year, and he was sure they weren’t planning one for men singles next week. Therefore, the Canadian pair could’ve come for said camp.
“Hey, why do you look like you’ve just seen a ghost?” Eita asked out loud, jabbing Chigiri in the shoulder.
At some point, the redhead had taken his phone to attend his own string of messages, and from the looks of it, he had gotten some news capable of shocking him to his core.
Maybe about Hinata again, or his doctor, who may suggest that he not participate in the Prix for a or c reasons. When he spoke up, however, Isagi glanced at Nagi for a second time. “Uh, is Reo… asking me if I’d like to hang out.”
“So you knew him,” Kunigami said, his tone a bit accusing.
“What?”
“I don’t know. That’s some nerve of him, I-, what should I do?” Chigiri asked Isagi, or more importantly, he asked Nagi.
Stop looking at me. Stop acting like it’s such a big deal that Mikage Reo is alive. He wanted to say. Instead, Nagi finished his drink fast enough to make a run for it.
“Okay, now I’m under the impression that shit went down between y’all,” Bachira commented.
“It’s nothing,” Nagi stood up. He had finished his food by now, and he hadn’t wanted to come anyway. Not to hear about the childhood best friend that vanished before their adolescence was even over. Much less if he would be treated like a fragile porcelain doll the entire time they addressed it. “I’m going home.”
“Did something happen between you guys…?”
But Nagi was already out of the restaurant, dismissing Kunigami’s question. The night had fallen over his head outside, half of the moon illuminating his way home. It was windy, but Nagi was used to the cold, and when he noticed the crickets, he just clenched his teeth; he was used to the loneliness, too.
He lived far from Blue Lock, even further than Isagi. When he didn’t have Isagi, he had Reo to talk his ear off. Then, he didn’t have Reo. The earphones feel heavy on his bag, the silence anything but comforting.
“Nagi, Nagi, wait!” Chigiri called out, mist escaping his lips with every breath. He had run with something stuck on his chest, words he had to get off. “I won’t ask if you’re okay-” He began.
Nagi stopped and faced him with seriousness. “I am. I just need to go home. I’m tired, nothing more.”
Chigiri bit his lip, struggling with his words. He and Nagi had lower patience than most, which showed in moments like these when they had to tiptoe around each other to prevent a war. “Look, you’re my friend; you know you can trust me, right?”
“Just say what’s on your mind.” Nagi wasn’t in the mood to stretch this any longer.
Chigiri sighed. “I’ve known you for a long time, and right now, Reo is a stranger to me. A stranger who hurt us, who hurt you. So tell me not to meet up with him, and I won’t.”
Whether he accepted or declined, the invitation was between him and Reo. Nagi shook his head, feeling his jaw hurt. A horrible, foolish part of him wondered why Reo hadn’t sent him a message instead. “You don’t need my permission.”
“That’s not what I’m asking,” Chigiri pressed.
Nagi’s hands turned into fists inside the pockets of his jacket. On the outside, he was calm. But on the inside, he didn’t understand why they were still talking about this. “Well, if he wants to reconnect, and so do you… you can have a mature conversation, can’t you?” It wasn’t his business, his issue. He turned around. “See you tomorrow.”
“And what if he asks me about you?” Chigiri yelled one last time, right before Nagi could walk away.
Reo asking about him? Reo? The same Reo that had no issue leaving him behind?
Reo, Reo, Reo.
In Reo’s life, there wasn’t space for Nagi anymore. “That’s some wishful thinking on your part.”
“Okay, but what if?”
What if he wants to see you?
What-ifs were useless. “…You tell him the truth, that I’m doing fine. That with or without him, life goes on. And that I never won gold, but I doubt he doesn’t know that.”
Chigiri might have wanted to ask more, press further. But again, he knew not to insist too much when it came to Nagi unless he was ready for a full-blown discussion. “Alright,” he accepted, cheeks growing pink because of the cold. It reminded him to get inside again. “See you around.”
“Goodbye,” Nagi said.
Eventually, he relaxed his jaw and slumped his shoulders. Nagi knew he should’ve been thinking of the comfy bed he had waiting for him after three hours at Blue Lock or the unfinished game he should review before next Monday arrived. But all those things that helped him unwind were suddenly stupid and unimportant because Reo was in Japan, and even if he was over him, he couldn’t help but remember.
So that night, he fought the urge to type Reo’s name in Google search. Even so, he went back to that old number he used to know by heart and reread the last thing they had said to each other. Reo’s text was old, a week before he flew. Are you at home? Can I come by?
And then a bunch of his own messages, from casual and unimportant to worried, angry, and upset. All in a range of days, one per day and then per hour. Missed calls.
Did I do something wrong?