Chapter Text
2010
Gojo is the coach from hell. It had taken a lot for Megumi to approach him with the request to coach him into a viable career, but now, as sweat drips down his brow and he feels an ache start to build in his ankles, he thinks he loathes the man.
“You still skate with flat edges.” Gojo points out as Megumi gets off the ice, exhausted.
He shoots a glare at the man, who holds no sympathy for him, and simply stares at him analytically, like he's some sort of equation or something. Gojo could be unnerving sometimes.
He takes refuge in the chilled bottle of water Tsumiki hands him with a slight smile.
“I think you've improved a lot,” she offers. Her trademark smile is in place, and she's got her bag of snacks for them in her lap. She rifles through it until she finds the ginger biscuits he likes so much and hands them to him. She doesn’t seem perturbed when all she gets in response is a grunt of acknowledgement. She simply hums and turns her attention to Gojo. “Would you like some sweets?”
“Yes please.” Gojo responds enthusiastically, leaning in with his arms outstretched. Tsumiki places them gently in his palms, and grins when he ruffles her hair in endearment. She's the only one that lets him do that; Megumi had nearly bitten off his hand the last time he'd tried to do so with him. “Also, you don't need to lie because you're scared of hurting Gumi's feelings.” He teases.
Megumi feels his cheeks heat in indignation. “My ‘feelings’ aren't hurt.”
“And I'm not lying,” Tsumiki protests. “I do think he's gotten better.”
“Better than abysmal is still bad.” Gojo responds, only to get two furrowed brows of confusion. “Never mind.”
“I don't know how you expect me to skate at a forty-five degree angle without landing on my face.” Megumi whines, taking an angry bite of his biscuit.
Tsumiki gazes fondly at his puffed up cheeks, her hands twitching to pinch them.
“I don't know how you expect to go pro if you can't hold an edge.” Gojo retorts, and Megumi throws his biscuit at him in a display of childishness only an exhausted eight year old figure skater can accomplish.
“Real mature.” Gojo says sarcastically.
Megumi sticks out his tongue and leans his sweaty head against Tsumiki. “I never want to skate again.”
Gojo snorts. “Yeah right. We'll resume tomorrow.”
Megumi sighs, eyes slipping shut as he begins to mentally prepare himself for the next session.
December, 2017
“You have to let me add in the quad toe.” Megumi demands of Gojo. It didn't help that a few of his competitors were already jumping multiple quads (they were older and in their final years as juniors, sure but still). He'd be decimated if he continues the way he is, with only a singular quad salchow in his free skate tossed into the second half to maximise bonus points.
“This is about Itadori, isn't it?” Gojo asks thoughtfully.
“This is about the fact that I can only jump one quad when I want to move up to senior soon.”
Gojo tilts his head. “We haven't discussed moving you up to seniors yet.” He says slowly.
Megumi scowls. “Well, I'm eligible for seniors soon, and I'd like to get there at seventeen.”
“That's over two years away.” Gojo points out. “You have plenty of time to add as many quads as you want. Right now, you have to think of longevity. Which means no injuries from unnecessary quad practices. You're lucky I even let you do that salchow.”
“Only because I got it without you.” He shoots back.
Gojo scowls at the reminder. The salchow has always been one of Megumi's best jumps and his best edge jump overall. His triple salchow was his smoothest jump and gave him no trouble. And Megumi had known he had enough height and speed for a quad. He'd known he could pull it off, even though Gojo hadn't expressly given him permission to practice one. He also hadn't exactly banned it either, he just hadn't been keen on being the one to teach it to Megumi. It hadn't mattered much in the end, and Megumi had been more than stubborn enough to teach himself the jump. Gojo had begrudgingly allowed him to add it to his program this season. Only after numerous supervised training sessions so Gojo could "verify" the jump though.
“Well, that won't be happening again for any other jumps, so it hardly matters.” Gojo says with a stiff smile.
After Megumi's… illicit practices, Gojo had gotten stricter about monitoring his time at the rink, to ensure he wasn't risking injury any more. The irony was that Megumi had sustained more injuries (though minor) under Gojo's supervision.
“You're the worst.” Megumi snaps.
“And you have an unhealthy obsession with this Itadori kid.” Gojo heaves a sigh, slapping his notebook shut. They likely wouldn't be getting anything else done today.
Megumi feels his cheeks flushed in indignation. “It's not an obsession. I'm just aware of him. Because he's my biggest competition.” He hisses through gritted teeth.
Gojo shoots him a disbelieving look. “You're made me get tickets to his assignment in Croatia. An assignment you didn't have by the way.”
“He was debuting his new programs there. I had to know what I was up against.” Megumi says defensively. Though he knows how it may look to the outside eye. But Gojo was rich and could afford such things. Plus, watching it in person was far better than having to deal with crappy angles from fan-cams or even the ISU's own shitty filming.
He'd been able to see Itadori's growth in person that way, and he had grown in the months since they'd faced off against each other. His skating skills were almost on par with Megumi's, which had let Megumi know that he absolutely had to improve his jumps.
Serves me right for being dedicated to my sport, Megumi laments internally.
“Sure.” Gojo says sarcastically.
“Why won't you believe I want this for me? Why does it have to be tied to him?” Megumi says, his voice tilting towards a whine. He hates to sound so childish, but Gojo had a habit of bringing out the worst in him.
The man was truly the worst.
"I am an expert in rivalries, friendly and otherwise. Also, I have eyes." Gojo points out.
Megumi scowls. "Well, I'm not you."
Very little people seemed to able to detach the two of them from each other, or maybe they didn't want to. They missed the great Satoru Gojo, the prince of the ice. They seemed to be looking to find him in Megumi. They wouldn't, of course.
Gojo's expression softens a bit, and he seems to see what's going through Megumi's head.
Megumi hates that the man can read him so well.
"Of course not. But rivalries are engraved into this sport. It's a toxic environment that breeds these unhealthy bonds. I don't want you to get caught up in it, that's all. It'll kill any love you have for the sport," Gojo's eyes go distant as he speaks, and Megumi knows he's thinking about Sukuna.
Megumi doesn't know how to tell the man he hardly loves the sport the way everyone else expects him to. They seem to think he should live and breath the sport, that he should feel some sort of profound connection to the ice or something. The most he's felt for the sport comes from his desire to beat Itadori. He doesn't really know what that says about him.
Maybe that he's fuelled by spite. Maybe he just has misplaced priorities.
"Itadori couldn't kill my love for the sport even if he tried," Megumi states bluntly. There was nothing to kill.
"That's the spirit," Gojo says jovially. "I'm still not letting you practice that quad toe though."
"Fuck you."
"Aww, let's go back to fixing that lutz edge. I want three double lutzes right now."
Megumi groans. "It's not even the required jump this season! Let me practice my loop instead."
"Your loop is near perfect. And you can't avoid fixing your lutz forever. Better now than later when it will actually cost you." Gojo crosses his arms and raises a brow, daring Megumi to argue.
He hates that he has no rebuttal. Gojo was right, he often was. But Megumi didn't have to like it.
"If I do it will you let me-"
"No." Gojo responds firmly. He doesn't even let Megumi finish.
The boy scowls and skates away from Gojo to do the three lutzes the man had required of him.
December 6, 2017
“I can't believe you're skating on my birthday.” Gojo groans.
The previous year, they'd avoided it by just one day, with the event occurring the day after Gojo's birthday. Tsumiki had flown out to France with them, and once the competition had been over they'd gone out exploring as a late birthday celebration since Megumi had spent Gojo's birthday making use of his practice time to the fullest extent. It was fun, and Megumi had been glad to have her around.
He wishes she were here now. Dealing with Gojo had always been more exhausting without her presence.
"That's what you get for having a birthday that falls during competition season.
"How is that my fault?" Gojo squawks indignantly.
Megumi turns to the man so he can see the full contempt behind his eye roll. He's still a bit bitter, he will admit. He doesn't see why Gojo won't just let him do the quad when the man was the youngest person to jump just about every jump that had been ratified at the time.
As Gojo begins to whine, Megumi catches sight of Maki up ahead, hair pulled back into a ponytail, hunched into herself as her coach checks them in. Her identical twin, Mai is standing beside her, just as miserable. Megumi doesn't blame either of them. Zen'in Naoya was probably the worst person Megumi had ever met. Even more annoying than Gojo, and that took a lot. Plus, he was just about the most bigoted person ever, which begged the question of why he would coach two girls, but the Zen'ins were a close knit family, determined to keep everything about the sport in the family.
If Megumi's father hadn't left them behind, he would probably be standing where Mai and Maki were, just as miserable.
"Oh, look at your aunts," Gojo teases.
His first cousins, technically, but Megumi doubted Gojo cared about such technicalities. If they had been significantly older, Megumi would have probably had no qualms about calling them that.
"Poor girls, having to deal with Naoya." Gojo says pouting. Megumi agrees. The man was in no way fit to be a coach, fresh out of his singles career and just handed students by virtue of blood relation. Highly immature and quick to anger, probably lousy at teaching too.
"Let's go say hi!" Megumi groans as Gojo drags him towards the girls.
"Hi Maki, Mai." He grumbles out as Naoya turns starstruck eyes towards Gojo. Just another flaw of his — his admiration for Gojo.
Maki looks happy to have a distraction from Naoya and clutches Megumi's hand authoritatively, taking Mai's hand in hers too. "Let's ditch these guys."
Megumi, tired from the flight, turns a desperate look towards Gojo, who only smiles. "Yeah, go hang out with the girls, Megumi. I'll get us checked in."
Damn him.
Megumi lets Maki drag him off, and shares a look with Mai, who looks just as tired as he does. Megumi doesn't hate either of the girls, and doesn't mind hanging with them in his free time the few times they do see each other. Maki's buoyancy can be a bit exhausting in the same way he found most extroverted people, but she was less annoying about it than Gojo was. Mai was the quieter of the two, and didn't mind Megumi's penchant for silence. All in all, Megumi got along with them just fine.
He just wasn't enthusiastic about having to perform socially when he was so tired. And he'd been planning on squeezing in a few hours of sleep before practice that afternoon.
Maki leads them down to the hotel's restaurant, even though they probably wouldn't end up eating anything. He wouldn't put it past Maki to break her diet though, she'd always been less strict with herself about such things.
She still won though, so maybe Megumi could stand to cheat a few times.
He banishes the thought almost immediately. Maki could afford to because she loved skating like a limb. It was a part of her, and she knew exactly what limits she could push, because there was a genuine desire in her. A hunger for the sport he couldn't imagine possessing. Megumi possessed no such love, and as such had to sacrifice some things to be good.
It was alright though, he'd chosen the life. And he had no regrets.
Well, except not beating Yuuji's season's best at his previous assignments leading up to the Final. But he could and would redeem himself.
He just had to skate a clean program. It would be his first one of the season.
For some stupid reason, he'd struggled with his program all season. And it wasn't even because of the quad. At least if he fucked that up, it would be understandable. No, he kept messing up in the most unlikely places, in spins and sequences. Gojo thought it was a mental block. Megumi thought that was stupid.
"So, how have you been?" Maki asks, eyes narrowed as it roams over him. Like she's making sure he's whole and well. She often got like that; analytical and concerned. She was probably referring to his mistakes all season.
"I'm good." He mumbles, gazing at the table.
Mai snorts, clearly unconvinced, and a waiter approaches the table, halting the conversation briefly. Mai doesn’t order anything, similar to him. Maki gets herself a sandwich. Megumi wrinkles his nose at the thought of being around food that would no doubt smell appealing. He didn’t need the temptation a few hours to practice and a day to competition.
The waiter disappears, and Mai finally speaks. "Why have you been stumbling around like an elephant on skates all season?" She asks bluntly. Normally, he appreciates her bluntness.
Normally, said bluntness isn't directed at him. She would deny it, but he knew she had a sort of soft spot for him.
An indignant flush rises to his face at her words. "What the hell does that mean?" He demands.
"She's right," Maki cuts in. "A bit… rude, but she's right. What's been going on with you."
"I'm fine, just having a bit of an off-season is all. I'll be alright tomorrow."
Maki hums, unconvinced. Her eyes are still searching, looking darker than they normally did. She shares a look with Mai.
"Is it that Itadori kid?" Mai asks.
Megumi freezes. "Why does everyone assume everything I do is because of him?" He asks, frustrated. He knows they're the two most promising skaters currently, beating out even those older than them during their debut season, medalling at the grand prix final when hardly anyone had expected them to. Naturally, with individuals so closely matched, people have begun to spin up tales about rivalry between them. It was a given, when it came to figure skating.
He is now tied to Itadori intrinsically, and it would take a lot for people to blot the idea of them as rivals from their minds, especially given who their mentors were — the two greatest figure skaters the sport had seen, so closely matched that nobody could cone to a clear decision on who could bear the title of greatest, leaving a large room for subjectivity to guide the discussions. Everybody looked at them and saw the shadows of the past. Megumi wished they would all stop looking.
He did want to beat Itadori more than anyone else, and was far more invested in him than any other skater currently, but it was only natural, wasn't it? To be invested in his greatest competition.
It didn't mean everything he did suddenly hinged upon Itadori Yuuji.
Mai shrugs delicately and Maki speaks in her place.
"We're just worried the media's narratives may be getting to you, is all."
If anyone knew about media narratives, it was the two of them. Being twins (identical ones at that), it was only natural that they would be gawked at for choosing to compete against each other. As though a Zen'in "chose" to skate. The media spun all types of narratives about them and their relationship constantly. Mai hadn't even been allowed to cut her hair without people making a fuss about how it meant Maki and her hated each other.
"It has nothing to do with him, I swear." He says staunchly.
Maki eyes him critically for a few moments longer before she seems to accept his answer. Mai, however, still has a contemplative look on her face though.
"If you're sure." Mai says, her voice betraying her disbelief.
"I am sure." Megumi shoots back.
But the thing is…
He can feel the seed of doubt starting to grow. He can't say he hasn't given thoughts to the idea of Itadori having more of an effect on him than he'd initially assumed last year, but he'd been quick to dismiss the thought every time. He told himself he didn't care nearly enough about skating for Itadori to be that significant to his life.
But now that the people closest to him seemed to think so, he wasn't so sure what to think.
He tugs on his bottom lip absently as he thinks. Maybe he needed to talk to Tsumiki. She'd know what was wrong.
Some days, Megumi was half sure she knew him better than he could ever hope to know himself. Others, he thought nobody could ever come close to knowing him.
Still, he appreciated her insight, even if he didn’t always act like it.
He'd talk to her.
After he won the competition.