Chapter Text
The rink was empty, save for the ghostly figure that moved across the ice.
Dazai Osamu’s breath formed small clouds in the frigid air, dissipating into the vast expanse of the silent rink. Each glide of his skates left a fragile imprint on the ice, a fleeting testament to his fleeting existence. He moved with a precision born not of passion, but of a desperate need to escape the shadows that clung to him like a second skin.
As he launched into a spin, the world blurred around him, and for a moment, he was free—free from the weight of his own despair, free from the haunting echoes of a past that refused to let him go. And then, his spin slowed, and Dazai exited out of the motion, coming to a halt on the ice, heaving exhausted breaths.
Outside, past the large glass doors that marked the entrance of his local rink, the day was yet to start. Darkness covered the morning sky, a sign of the early time. The sun hadn’t even begun to rise yet.
“Ugh…” Dazai groaned, collapsing onto the cold surface of the ice rink. There he was- a small, dark, blemish in a sea of white, unmoving. “I need to go again.”
Dazai hoisted himself up effortlessly, moving back to his short program’s starting position. Arms high, wrists slightly bent, head back, relaxed expression.
Imagine you’re a swan gliding across a lake. A beautiful, graceful swan, entrapping anyone who dares come near.
Mori’s words rang in his head. A swan. Pfft. As if.
Dazai was anything but a beautiful, graceful swan. A more accurate comparison for him would be a haunting shadow on ice, movements cold and sharp.
But he could pretend. He could put on a mask.
Mori wants him to play the part of a swan? Fine. And he’ll do a damn good job at it.
Pressing play on “ The Swan" (Le Cygne) by Saint-Saens, Dazai pushes backwards to mark the start of his routine as the music begins in his headphones.
It’s a soft melody. It isn’t anything extreme, or bold, like Chuuya would skate to. No, Mori would never allow that.
Gliding backwards, Dazai prepares for his entry into his first jump- a triple salchow. He prepares, moving his body with the rhythm of his music, digs his toe-pick into the ice, and spins once, twice, three times through the air, before landing successfully.
He continues his program, completing a total of two more jumps and some spins, combined with some footwork, before finishing in his end pose as the music comes to a stop.
By the end, he’s huffing once more, sweat trickling down his forehead.
It is then when the faint sound of someone clapping catches Dazai’s attention, tearing him out of his own world. He glances to the side to see Oda leaning against the rink fence, staring at him with that satisfied look of his.
Huh. It must be nearly time for the rink to open. Dazai gives the man a small wave before skating over, coming to a stop in front of him. Oda is one of the only adults he actually likes. Spare for Yosano and Ranpo, of course, but that didn’t really count as they’ve been his friends since, like, forever. And are they really adults if they’re just a few years older than him?!
“Oda! Fancy seeing you here.” Dazai beams, leaning over to poke Oda in the chest.
The man in question gives a slight nod. “Same for you, Dazai. Don’t mind me, however. I’m just preparing to open the rink.”
Dazai sighs dramatically, propping his head up to rest on his arm. “Aww man. Seems like my alone time is almost at an end!”
“Yes. Nice program, by the way.”
“I’m flattered!” Dazai beams loudly, pushing himself outwards slightly to do a small spin on the ice. “Although…” he continues, “The end is a bit sloppy, so I have to fix up my spin combination before Mori yells at me. Hahh…”
Oda raises an eyebrow. “I’m going to pretend like I just understood what those terms mean. Your ending looked fine, though. It’s good.”
“Gold medal good?!”
“I haven’t yet lived a day you haven’t won.”
The young skater sticks out his tongue, crossing his arms in a defiant manner. “Fine. Whatever. I’m going to rest and wait for that stupid slug to get here.”
Shrugging, Oda gives him a small ‘do whatever you’d like’ before walking away to continue cleaning and preparing for the first session. It’s a 6am one, so it must be something like 5:45 am right now.
Gives Dazai time to mentally prepare for his training session with Mori, he supposed.
Ew.
Out of all the adults in the world, Mori was the one he hated the most. He was disgusting, cruel, vile, annoying, nitpicky, harsh, and very, very punchable.
But worst of all…he was Dazai’s coach. The stupid, former olympian coach that everyone would ‘kill’ to have coached him. Seriously. No one would want him if they witnessed just one of their training sessions.
Sitting on a bench in the changing room, Dazai rips off his ice skates to rest his feet before they are subjected to another half an hour of torture.
The relief he feels is almost instant- like having that first sip of water after an hour training session.
Dazai massages his feet without taking off his socks.
Because- first of all- that’s disgusting! Taking your socks off in this gross changing room? No thank you. And second, Dazai was not about to flaunt his feet, his battered, bandaged, bruised feet, for all to see.
Maybe there wasn’t anyone around right now. But whether it be a human, bug, or ghost- they were not catching even a glimpse.
A loud sound behind him, the sound of the changing room door being flung open, startles Dazai out of his act and causes him to turn around.
Much to both his pleasure and dismay, the person standing there is none other than Chuuya Nakahara. His favourite (person to annoy!!) in the world.
A shit-eating grin spreads across Dazai’s face. “My, my, what do we have here?” he taunts.
Chuuya’s eyes narrow. “Is there seriously any day you’re not here at 6 fucking o’clock in the morning?! Gosh. Fuck me.”
“With pleasure, darling.”
Chuuya’s head snaps back to Dazai, disgust littered along his features. “Ew! No!”
Dazai barely ducks in time to avoid a pair of figure skates being thrown at him, grazing the top of his head. They clatter on the floor behind him with a loud thud, leaving Dazai temporarily stunned.
“What the heck, chibi! If I hadn't ducked in time, I'd be dead right now!”
Chuuya rolled his eyes, making his way over to pick up his skates. “Whatever, you ducked, so you’re fine. Also, isn’t that your life-long wish or something?” He bends down to collect his skates, dusting them off to rid them of any grime.
“In any case,” he adds, “You should be thanking me, stupid mackerel.”
“Death by decapitation isn’t on my list of ways to die! Plus, your blades look suuuper blunt, so that would really hurt, and not even chop my head off properly! With any luck, It’d half do the job and I'd be bleeding to death, in pain mind you, on the floor right there!” Dazai points to where Chuuya had just been, collecting his skates.
Just after Dazai’s long rambling, the door to the room opened once again, revealing a startled Atsushi. “Oh!” he exclaimed, taken aback by the two pairs of eyes staring at him. “I-is this a bad time? I can leave…”
Chuuya shook his head. “Not at all. Me and Dazai were about to finish up anyway and go on the ice. Hey Atsushi, by the way.”
“Oh! Uhm, hello Nakahara-san. Hello to you Dazai as well!”
Dazai simply nods in the boy's direction, tightening the laces on his skates he had just taken off mere minutes ago. He could feel his feet beg and scream for mercy as he pulled the laces tighter, each bruise throbbing in agony, but Dazai simply ignored it and stood after placing his skate guards on his blades.
“Well then!” He announces, hands on hips. “Let’s go, Chibi!”
“Bastard,” Chuuya utters underneath his breath, storming his way over to Dazai and the exit. “See you soon, Atsushi.”
The two skaters exit the changing room and approach the ice as Atsushi sends them a wave.
“I need to warm up a bit,” Chuuya yawns, beginning to stretch out his legs on the barrier separating floor from ice.
Dazai pushes past the ginger, tutting him with his tongue. “Lame. ‘ve already done that!” He giggles as he jumps onto the ice, gliding for the second time this morning into the centre of the rink. Instantly, he can feel his shoulders relax and worrisome thoughts slip away as his blades make contact with the slippery surface, the voices in his head dying down once again as cold numbs his face.
Skating was better before Mori came into the picture. But these moments, the early practices he gets to himself and late nights he spends with Chuuya on the rink, remind him how much he loves skating.
Or maybe he didn’t love skating. He just liked the way it silenced the voices in his head, too busy fighting against the bitter cold instead.
Or maybe he liked how free he felt, gliding around on the ice with no judgemental eyes telling him to jump higher, spin longer, and put a smile on his face.
Maybe he liked it when he didn’t have to be Mori’s swan.
Whatever.
The approaching sound of skates grinding against ice caught Dazai’s attention. Alerting him Chuuya was nearing.
“Slug,” Dazai greeted.
“Mackerel,” Chuuya returned.
“I have thirty minutes before my training session with Mori. Sigh. My feet hurt!”
Chuuya rolled his eyes. “Maybe if you didn’t spend hours skating beforehand your feet wouldn’t hurt as much.”
“Um!” Dazai rebuts, “I actually only spend half an hour on the ice.”
“30 minutes before this, thirty after. An hour.”
“Nuh uh! You said hours. ”
“Oh shut up,” Chuuya says before skating another direction. “I’m going to practise some spins. Don’t interrupt.”
“Whatever you say~”
Dazai stands in the middle of the rink idly, watching Chuuya occupy a corner and begins work on his sit spins. Atsushi joins them eventually, too, and claims a corner of his own.
Dazai, on the other hand, decides to lie down on the ice. His feet seriously hurt too much for this. He decides staring at the pipework along the tin roof is much more productive instead.
Seconds fly into minutes until eventually, a familiar voice calls Dazai’s name.
Leaning against the barrier is none other than Mori. His coach.
Ah. Thirty minutes sure did pass quickly.
Dazai gets to his feet, ignoring the agonising screams it garners from his feet, (Stupid feet! Just suck it up!) and joins his coach.
“Dazai,” Mori acknowledges his skater’s presence.
“Mori.” Dazai’s response is cold.
The coach sighs. “Having a nice nap, I see. I hope you’re prepared for our training session.”
“Yes, yes,” Dazai waves him off with his hand. “I was just resting. ‘M ready, or whatever.”
Mori’s calculated gaze levels with Dazai’s own. His eyes- soulless. Callous. Cruel. “Good. I want to work on your jumps today.”
Dazai’s confusion obviously doesn’t go unnoticed, because Mori continues with another heavy sigh. “I want to work on your axel, specifically.”
Dazai scoffs at that. “My axel, sir? Why? I’ve already perfected my triple axel.”
“I don’t want you to do a triple. I want you to do a quad.”
Silence. Sounds of skaters grinding against ice sounds in the background.
“I’m already working on some quads. Can’t we focus on those instead?”
Dazai immediately realises his mistake of questioning his coach, because a firm hand grasps itself around his wrist. “How about you listen to what I say?” Mori seethes. “I’m the coach. You’re my protegee. You listen to the instructions I give you.”
Pulling his hand back, Dazai scowls as Mori’s grip does not loosen. His foot hurts more than usual today. The thought of attempting a quad axel on it makes him want to wither and die. He thought Mori would want to work on spins- not quads?
And an axel? The hardest fucking jump in all of figure skating?
Mori’s hand clasps tighter, pulling Dazai from his line of thought. “Okay okay! Fine! I’ll do a quad axel!”
It takes a few more moments for Mori to release Dazai, eyeing him closely. “Good.” He clasps his hands over each other. “I expect to see it. You have until the end of this session to land the jump at least once.”
“End of the session?!”
Mori’s glare shuts Dazai up, threatening him to not say any more. So, he skates away, shaking his head. Chuuya stares at him from across the rink, but Dazai ignores his fixed gaze and focuses on his axel entry instead.
He needed to take this slow. First, a triple, then 3 and a half, then possibly a quad.
Keyword: possibly.
Okay.
Twenty minutes later, Dazai has only managed to complete a triple and one half of an axel, and his foot hurts. But Mori is still watching, and Chuuya is shooting him weird looks.
Sigh. Dazai begins to gain his momentum, aiming to try the axel again. He glides backwards on his outside left skating edge, gaining the necessary speed to pull off four rotations.
Once Dazai believes he has enough speed and momentum, he pushes off strongly from his forward outside edge, pushing his toepick into the ice to launch him into the air.
He spins once, twice, three, four times, the world around him a blur of white as he rotates in the air, and prepares to land.
His body starts to come down, and Dazai braces for the impact, ready to balance himself and stay upright…
But that moment never comes. His blade hits the ice, instantly sending searing pain through his foot, up his entire leg. Dazai stumbles, surprised, and falls to his knees. He tries to save himself the embarrassment and get up right away, however finds himself collapsing once more after trying to push himself up.
He can feel Mori’s disappointment crushing him, and dreads the punishment awaiting him afterwards. He must’ve known it was impossible, anyways! Even for a skater like Dazai.
“Hey, dude, are you alright?” Chuuya says, having suddenly migrated from the spot he had stayed the entire session. He knew Mori didn’t like others interrupting his training.
Dazai swats him away, determined to try once more. “No- yes, i’m fine, stupid Chuuya.” he goes to stand, again, stumbles- before pushing through whatever pain his foot wants him to feel. It’s allll mental. Pain is an illusion. And this…this was stupid.
Chuuya still hovers by his side like a dog, unsure how to react.
“I’m fine, Chuuya. Go back to your spins or whatever.”
He turns away from Chuuya, towards where Mori is standing.
But he is gone. No longer watching like an eagle stalking his prey.
Dazai sighs, heading towards the exit. This was a sign their training session had ended.
Walking hurt more than skating on his foot, Dazai discovered. Making his way up the stairs, he grimaced with each step he took, until he eventually reached the changing room.
Of course, Dazai wasn’t alone. Mori stood there, an immovable presence, his patience as unsettling as the silence that hung in the air. Waiting.
“I don’t think falling and embarrassing yourself was a part of the lesson plan.” He stated, tone flat and unyielding, as Dazai plopped himself on a bench and began removing his skates.
Dazai scoffed. “Well, it wasn’t on my agenda either. But neither was trying to learn a quad axel in thirty minutes whilst my stupid coach just stands and watches!”
The sound of footsteps behind him made Dazai tense. Before he could react, a sharp pain exploded from his scalp as Mori yanked his hair, forcing his head back so he had no choice but to meet Mori’s cold, unrelenting gaze.
“That’s the second time today you’ve talked back, Dazai,” he hisses through his teeth. “And I'm not going to tolerate it any longer. Today was a test. To push you to your limits. Unfortunately, you failed. You fell. You-”
Even with Mori’s grip tightening painfully on his hair, Dazai glared at his coach, defiant. Perhaps that wasn’t the best course of action, however, because Mori quickly noticed and threw Dazai off the bench he was sitting on and against a hard, concrete wall.
Dazai quickly covered his head as he smashed against the wall, skates scattering across the floor. “I’m sorry, okay! I’ll do better next time!”
Mori approached, his tall figure towering over Dazai, who caressed his head with pain.
“You’d better. Because I don't like failure, Dazai. And I have no use for those who fail, either.”
Then, with a final look of disdain, the dreaded man turned on his heel and left, slamming the door behind him, leaving Dazai and the mess he made behind.
“Urgh…” he groaned, sitting up, still rubbing the back of his head. “Ow.”
“Dazai?” A voice sounded from the outside of the door. Chuuya. It was Chuuya. “You good?”
Wincing, Dazai slowly stood up, collecting his things and packing them away in his bag. “Yes, my sweet chibi! I’m flattered you’re worried about me!”
“Ugh,” he heard from behind the door. “Nevermind.”
Dazai heard the faint sounds of footsteps fading into the distance, to which Dazai heaved a relieved sigh. Now he could grab his stuff and get out of here.
Dazai made his way towards the door Mori exited through, into the foyer of the skating rink. At this time of day, it was mostly empty besides from a few skaters preparing for the next session.
Oh well. That just made things easier for him, didn’t it? Dazai shrugged, making his way towards the front doors, until he was stopped by someone’s awkward “ Uh,” breaking the silence, followed by a cough.
It was a quiet sound, but the foyer was currently dead silent, so it rang out like a bell.
Dazai stopped to whip his head around, a practised smile replacing whatever frown was just on his face. “Yes?”
Standing behind him, unfortunately, was Akutagawa, the hockey kid Chuuya just had to be close to.
“Your…cough, head.” Akutagawa mumbled. “You might want to look at it.” Without waiting for a response, he turned and walked away, presence as fleeting as his words.
Weird kid. But…Dazai’s hand instinctively reached for the back of his head, where a throbbing pain had been annoying him ever since Mori just had to oh so graciously throw him against that wall.
When he brought his hand back, Dazai’s hand was covered in blood, crimson shining underneath the ceiling light.
Oh. Isn’t that just lovely.
So, he pulled up his hood, and ran.