#obi is russian but he's from the eastern part and thus doesn't look kievan

[sabraeal]

Born to Make History

A prequel to this prompt from an earlier collection! The short program I reference here it based very heavily off of Nathan Chen’s 2021 short program which you can find here

[Read on AO3]

Obiyuki AU Bingo 2021 Figure Skating AU

“I hope you weren’t expecting me to go easy on you this morning.” Garrack’s voice booms across the ice, loud enough that a few other skaters slow, craning their necks to see who the fabled Coach Gazelt would chew out next. “Your work is just beginning if you want to call this a comeback.”

A groan rumbles in the back of her throat, dying to be let out, but it’s impossible to miss the small figure sweeping the eyes, dark hair curling over his eyes. Ryuu’s here already, picking at some footwork-- his transitions are his weakest element if his scores are anything to go by, but he’s determined to make it his best. Shirayuki breathes in, six counts in and eight counts out, and lets her protest die on her tongue.

Shirayuki slides out, stomping her skates beneath her to get feeling back in her legs. “I know you better than that.”

Her muscles ache as she eases into a lap, letting the ice settle beneath her. When she was small, she could blast out into the rink like a cannon ball, running across it like it was just another bit of ground beneath her feet. But she left it, and silly as it sounds, the ice hasn’t forgiven her. Her blades don’t tremble like the used to, but a few days off the ice-- especially folded up on an Transatlantic flight-- leaves her with a drunken lurch, the whole world passing by too fast.

But it’s quick to even out, her body warming to the chill of the rink, to the way her legs have to bend to keep her moving. After a lap or two, control is easy as breathing, as easy as swimming to a fish. The ice may not have forgiven her, but it’s missed her too.

She glides to a stop right at Garrack’s toes, sending up a little spray. It earns her a smile, tight-lipped but approving. She’ll earn teeth once she gives it a medal to sink in to. “I think if you let up on me for a moment, I’d have to take you to a hospital.”

Her coach barks out a laugh, blonde hair ruffling out like a halo from her bun. “Oh, Shirayuki. You say the sweetest things.”

It might be cold in the rink, but it doesn’t do anything but make her cheeks burn hotter. She forgets, but these Americans-- they don’t really take ‘hard ass’ as a compliment.

Well, most wouldn’t. Garrack looks quite pleased, though.

“Aw, coach.” Hands catch at her shoulders, and she knows them even before a sandy head peeps over them. “Can’t you give her one easy day? She’s finally made senior!”

“Oh, Higata, really, there’s no need--”

“Sure.” Garrack bares her all her teeth in a smile Shirayuki’s willing to bet has been the last earthly sight of some of her students. “But if I give her a pass, you boys will have to pick up the slack.”

Already, Higata’s hands loosen their grip. “N-now, I didn’t say--”

It’s far, far too late for him to quibble over exactly what was and wasn’t said on the ice. “What do you think? Balance drills? Or we can see how far you’ve come with your flexibility for spins.” Garrack tilts back her head, giving him a speculative look. “Maybe even run through her routine once...?”

“Ah, Shirayuki!” He gives her a firm pat on the back, sliding away. “I did what I could! Viel Glück!”

Garrack watches him skate off with a satisfied grin lingering on her lips. “Nice boy, that Higata. Thick as a hockey puck, but nice.”

Shirayuki knows better than to posit her own opinion when Garrack’s in a punchy mood. “The usual warm up, then?”

Garrack levels her with another of her measuring glances. It’s the sort that could bring grown men to their knees-- she saw it happen once, outside of a rink in Wisconsin-- but Shirayuki is used to it now. Assessment is a tool, and Garrack Gazelt has made her career by being good at it.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” she asks instead. “You only got off a plane yesterday. That time change is easier the other way.”

She nods. “Really, I’m fine.”

Garrack sits back in her hips, one arm tucked under the other, and takes a long, thoughtful drag out of her thermos. Shirayuki shifts on her skates, trying to look-- awake. Ready to seize the day.

I’ll push you. Garrack had made no bones about that during their first lunch in Strasburg. She’d given her a similar look then too, assessing, trying to see that promising junior skater in a university student’s body. But you’re a professional. You say stop, we stop. You say go, we push on. You’re at the wheel for this one. I’m just your emergency brake.

“All right,” she sighs. “Keep it simple, though. Think easy, for once.”

“I said I was--”

Garrack flaps a gloved hand. “It’s not about you. I took a look at the books this morning, and Haruka’s right after us.”

Shirayuki blinks. Strange, he usually grabs the first slot. “Are you avoiding him?”

“Me?” She presses her thermos to her chest, scandalized. As if she and Haruka don’t skulk about the rink when they see each other, hissing like cats when necessity forced them onto the same practice time. “I don’t avoid anyone.”

A dubious hum goads her to tepidly add, “No more than he deserves.”

Shirayuki folds her arms across her chest.

“No more than usual,” Garrack promises. “But that’s not why we’re going to get off the ice.”

She lifts a brow. “And why is that?”

If Garrack weren’t in skates herself, she’d be bouncing on her toes. “I want to be in the seats when he sends his students out.”

Shirayuki’s mouth pulls thin. “The season just ended, and already you’re trying to--?”

“No, no. I’m not looking to poach, and I don’t care what routines he’s working on for next season.” She huffs, hair fluffing out in agitation. “And his aren’t better than mine anyway, he just has top tier skaters because him and Haruto like to rub--”

A polite cough breaks her concentration, enough for Shirayuki to sneak in, “Then what exactly do you need to see?”

Garrack’s mouth curls into a smile Zen has, on more than one occasion, called grinch-like. She leans in, voice dropping to a whisper, and says, “Haruka’s putting someone new on the ice.”

“A new student?’ Zen sputters, skates limp in his hands. “Haruka never said he was taking on a new student.”

“They aren’t on the roster.” Shirayuki’s shoulders hunch around her ears, as if that might keep her words between them. “And the other coaches don’t know anything either.”

Zen settles back against the bench. “We just got back from Worlds three days ago. How could he possibly have someone new that quickly?”

“Maybe it’s someone who just promoted from juniors.” She should be excited; a new student with that level of ability would be someone to watch, to learn from. But instead anxiety twists in her gut, a snake that slithers itself into tighter and tighter knots. “I saw your program, by the way. You did well.”

“I got fourth,” Zen grumbles, sliding his foot into a skate. “No wonder he already scouted a replacement.”

“Haruka would never replace you, and certainly not because you were a jump shy of bronze.” Or silver, which if he’d skated clean, he would have earned in spades. “Kiki placed second. It wouldn’t be the first time someone’s jumped to a coach with someone on the podium when they started competing at the senior level.”

“Sure,” he grumbles, “but usually it takes long than--”

“What are you two talking about over here?” Kiki drops her duffel unceremoniously between them, the bench warbling beneath it. “Gossiping, I hope?”

“Just our progress at Worlds,” Zen lies smoothly, sending her a secretive wink. She’s not sure why-- Haruka’s always favored Kiki; if anyone knew anything about this mystery student, it would be her. “Shirayuki was just saying how impressive it is to get so close to the podium, but I said--”

“Right.” Kiki casts her gaze over the ice; a few weeks ago there would have been nothing to that, just a casual glance, but Shirayuki knows her better now, enough to see the hopeful perk of her chin and the inquiring lift of her perfectly shaped eyebrows. She’s looking for someone; even when her gaze swings back to Shirayuki, she knows it’s not about her. “What were you two talking about?”

Zen squawks. “I said--”

“I know.” Her voice is even, logical. “But Shirayuki can’t lie.”

Shirayuki wants to protest-- she can, really, she’s done it before-- but takes one look at her and blurts out, “Haruka has a new student.”

Her skates clatter to the floor. “What was that?”

“Well,” Zen murmurs, mouth twitching. “I guess somebody isn’t the favorite after all.”

Garrack may be content to sit in the seats as Zen and Kiki take the ice, but Shirayuki leans on the barrier, letting the chill brush over her face. At this level, they’ve all been skating since they were old enough to fall and get back up. But unlike her, Zen and Kiki have never stopped, and the gap in skill has never been more apparent than now. They take to the rink like birds to air, winding around each other in complex circuits, slapping hands and turning circles around each other.

That’s the other thing: they’ve always had each other. Kiki’s hardly twenty, but there’s already rumors of Milan being her last Olympics, of what she might do once she’s over the hill-- and the first word on anyone’s lips is pairs. The second and third are Zen Wisteria, since there’s not a person alive who can imagine a competition without either of them on the ice.

Her fingers grip the rail’s rubber rim hard enough to leave crescents. They’d look good together-- they do look good together. It makes sense to go that route if Zen picks up a gold. It’s what his father did, years ago. For his mother.

The gate swings open, and they both glide to a stop. But then, to be fair, so does most of the rink.

There is no official size for a skater-- not like gymnastics, where smaller equals better and taller equals a very gentle nudge toward ballet-- but still, there is a trend to fall on the shorter size of average, at least in singles. Height might give more control on the ice, might give an extra spin or two, but when it came to jumps, the less bulk heaved from the ice the better. But Haruka’s student--

Well, he’s certainly not Mitsuhide’s height, but even with his slouch he’s taller than most men here. In his skates, he even looks down at Haruka-- though it’s not much of a feat; the man never comes onto the ice, just stands behind the barrier to shout his way through practice. Not that he needs to raise his voice to make his displeasure known; a single frown usually sends Zen and Kiki gliding back to him, heads bowed.

He’s outright glowering now, but his new student only rubs at his hair, a half-gloved hand riffling through black bristle. There’s something about him, something about the way he moves that seems familiar, if only she could catch his face--

But then the thrum of a guitar rolls over the ice, tinny on the rink’s speakers-- Zen’s song, his short program. The one that fell just short of the podium, because he put a hand down after a jump got away from him. Haruka’s student turns around, and even from where she stands, she recognizes the grin.

Oh no. No.

It should be Zen at the center of the ice, but this guy pushes out instead. His black clothes making him a stark contrast to the ice, to the barriers around him. Zen’s already halfway to the center, confused and a bit agitated, looking like he’s about to have words-- and then Haruka’s student glides out, Spanish guitars warbling in his wake.

He moves like water-- no, like a blade through water, each motion of his arms both flowing and sharp, carving through the air with a grace than even Zen would be hard pressed to copy. His hips swing, daring angles that should throw him off his footwork, that should leave him stumbling, but instead he’s mesmerizing, a flamenco dancer that does not need to touch the ground.

“Who is he?” Ryuu murmurs, shifting in the seat behind her.

“I wish I knew.” Jealousy drips thickly from Garrack’s voice. “Just where did Haruka dig up a gem like this?”

Tanbarun, Shirayuki nearly says, but she can’t speak, can’t do anything but watch this man skate Zen’s routine like he owns it, like it was made for him. She expects him to mark the jump sequence-- quad toe, triple toe loop-- but the moment he jumps, she knows-- it’s clean. No, more than clean, because this isn’t a joke, not a sly wink and smile to his new friends--

He’s come to compete.

“Can you believe that?” Zen normally floats like a cloud on the ice, but right now he looks like he could thunder and storm too as the song switches to the next on deck. “He did my whole routine.”

Kiki’s mouth cants, wry. “Better than you did.”

He snaps to her like a lightning crack. “I wouldn’t say that.”

“I would.” Garrack saunters up to the barrier with a barracuda’s smile, raising a brow. “If you’d gone that clean at Worlds, that would have placed you. Maybe would have brought home gold.”

Zen only glowers, and Shirayuki sends her coach a pleading glance. It’s a hopeless cause to wish she’d keep her mouth shut, but maybe Garrack might blunt her tongue.

She really should know better.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve seen someone move like that,” Garrack sighs, tapping her hand on the plastic. “Not since...”

Your brother, she doesn’t say; a small mercy. Zen’s grimace says he heard it anyway.

“Where’s he from?” Ryuu asks, appearing at her elbow. His brows are drawn, grave over his already serious eyes. “I haven’t seen him at any competition.”

Shirayuki bites her cheek to keep from saying, I have.

“That’s the question,” Garrack grumbles, looking greener by the second. “Where did he find an unknown that can skate like that? It can’t be--”

“Korea.”

The accent that says it is distinctly not that; oh no, there is a deeper rumble on the ‘r’, a harder ‘k’ at the start. A thicker accent than he’d sported when he loomed over her, gold eyes cold as coins, and asked, I think you get my point, da?

When she turns, there he is: her saboteur in the flesh.

“Well, well, devushka.” His grin stretches wide, elbowing in between Zen and Kiki. “Long time no see.”

#obiyukibingo21 #obiyuki #akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #figure skating au #my fic #ans #okay consider this a teaser for a fic i might one day write #where shirayuki used to be a promising junior skater in germany but ended up dropping out #when her grandparent got sick or died or what have you #and then decided to come back when she was in university because she misses it #and probably something to do with raj and zen but like *waves hand* not my problem right now #obi is russian but he's from the eastern part and thus doesn't look kievan #and so despite his skill he never was put on russia's competitive team #and thus has rented himself out to korea #whose star skater just took a terrible tumble and will be out for the season #and he has juuuuust enough korean blood for the international skating committee to allow it #YES YES LIKE PAS DE DEUX you all know the reference i am making and also rent-a-russians are a thing SO #today i borrow my sister's sweater #it fits very nice