Coat and scarf and gloves, coffee thermos at the ready; it seems odd to be so dressed up indoors, to feel the chill of the ice but not see the open air of the track. This view isn’t so bad, though.
Not many people can say they’ve had a private show with four time gold medalist winner Haku Yuki.
At this time the rink is empty, everything silent but the scrape of blades against ice, lights dimmed low to the barest minimum. Haku’s practice clothes are dark and plain, but he still shines despite it all, enchanting.
Shikako knows how to skate but in comparison to her friends, Sasuke in speed skating and Naruto in ice hockey, she always figured it was simply a matter of needs must. Ice skating as a winter athlete was the same as knowing how to swim–functional, necessary. Nothing as beautiful as this.
During her musing, Haku’s routine has drifted closer to where she stands by the wall, coming to a sharp stop, snow spraying from the force of it.
He smiles at her, gives a little bow, and reaches for the thermos. Shikako, in turn, laughs, hands it over, and gives muffled applause, sound dulled by the fabric of her gloves.
It’s paltry compared to the kind of acclamation he’s received before, even in this very same rink–hundreds of his fans cheering his name and millions more watching him at home–and yet the smile he gives her is honest and appreciative.
“That was fantastic,” she says taking the thermos back, walking along side him as he skates toward the exit.
“It’ll look better with the music playing,” Haku says, extending an arm to gesture at the great expanse of ice that is his stage. “Zabuza-sama says my song choice is too sentimental, but he also says this is my best routine yet, so…” he drifts off, one hand at the wall, the other reaching out as he steps out of the rink.
Used to the way Naruto and Sasuke are when they come off the ice–as if having to remember how to walk instead of skate, the few seconds transition between ice and ground–she takes his hand, steadying him and supporting him through to the bleachers.
But even as he sits, he doesn’t let go, tugs lightly as if to say, sit next to me.
She does so, joined hands between them, looking at the rink where, in a few days time, Haku will win his fifth gold medal.
“Thank you, Shikako,” he says, and she knows he doesn’t mean just for this morning, this moment.
A/N: I have only ever been ice skating the once and it was over ten years ago so… winter sports are not really my thing (and while I am hyped up about Yuri on Ice I have yet to actually watch it). Hopefully this is acceptable.