Would You Defy Gravity for Me? (TBD hiatus)

Chapter 1 - It's Not Kidnapping if He Gets in the Car Willingly

1 month after Atsushi Nakajima wins gold at the World Figure Skating Championships
    "Chuuya- have you seen the news?"
    Chuuya glanced up as the redhead entered his office, trailed by a girl with a white mask concealing her face from the nose down. He turned to the one who'd spoken- Tachihara. "No, what happened?" he said, setting his glass of tea down on his desk.
    Tachihara pulled out his phone, angling it towards Chuuya. It was a recorded news broadcast. A news reporter was on the screen, the International Skating Union logo on the wall behind her.
    "Breaking news in the skating world today," The reporter continued when Tachihara pressed the play button, "Legendary skater Dazai Osamu has announced his return to the ice in this year's world championships! Dazai, who earned his name in the industry initially with his role in the "Double Black" partnership that rocked the skating world six years ago-"
    The woman was cut off from continuing her report as Tachihara pressed the pause button again, but Chuuya already hadn't heard anything after her first statement. His fury pooled in the back of his throat, practically making his ears ring.
    He slammed his fist on his desk, the sudden movement causing Gin, the girl beside Tachihara, to jump.

"I'm going to kill that fucking idiot."

6 years before Atsushi Nakajima wins gold at the World Figure Skating Championships
    He was short. That was the first thought that flashed through Dazai's mind as his gaze landed on the boy gliding over the ice. In fact, he appeared to be around Dazai's age, but much smaller than the brunette. His eyes were closed, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he glided across the ice. He swerved to the beat of a song only he could hear, playing into his ears through the white headphones that threaded up from the collar of his tight-fitted black shirt. Dazai would never admit it, but his next thought was a quiet, "oh, wow." as the boy skated through the curtain of light that shone down from the broken window high above, the rays of light cast by the setting sun setting his bright orange hair aflame. In that second, the sight was quite beautiful. The boy looked like a lick of flame over the gleaming ice, a dazzling contrast only found in priceless artworks.
    The moment passed as soon as it had come, the boy rounding the curve of the rink and ducking out of the light's halo. Dazai mentally shook himself, realizing he'd been gaping. He quickly draped his signature haughty look over his face, internally scoffing at himself. He was Dazai, the demon prodigy, not some common magpie. He did not get distracted by shiny things.
    His name was Osamu Dazai, and he was one of the country's best figure skaters. Atleast, in theory. He had the skill set and talent to easily top most of Japan's skaters, but, ironically enough, skating brought him no joy anymore. It was all so boring to him, and it had been for years. The thrill and adrenaline of being on the ice had faded, and it all became a dull routine to him. Choreograph a set, practice set, skate set, win medal, repeat.
    It had been fun for him before he'd started training with his current mentor, however. When he met Mori, he'd been promised a life of fame, of freedom. Dazai had accepted. He'd been naive back then. It turned out Mori was just using him to take leadership of the Port Mafia Skating Company, one of the best skating agencies in Japan. The leader at the time had begun to grow old, pushing his skaters too hard and without mercy, beginning to destroy the company's reputation as the skaters crumbled under the pressure. He'd been so focused on trampling rival agencies and competitors that he'd become a tyrannical ruler over the company. Mori Ougai had just been a choreographer at the time, with no name for himself in the industry. However, he decided to take it upon himself to "dethrone" the old boss and appoint himself as his replacement. To do this, he'd needed to find a bright, up-and-coming skater to take under his wing, proving his qualification for the job when the skater he coached exceeded the talent of any skater under the old boss. His plan had worked after he found Dazai, and he'd taken over once Dazai had won gold in a national championship. Ever since, Dazai has basically been his right hand. Mori had been trying to push him to compete once again, but it was futile, as Dazai refused every time. his skills hadn't gone completely to waste, however. He helped design and edit programs for other skaters in the agency to use, despite never creating any for himself.
    After the old boss had been dismissed, the Port Mafia Skating Company, or Port Mafia for short, hadn't been concerned about him. However, recently, rumors had sprouted of his reappearance as a coach. Normally, rumors like this would be ignored, but just in case, Mori had sent Dazai to make sure. The boss' paranoia made sense; if the old boss really had resurfaced as a coach, and if the skater he trained turned out to be any good, questions about Mori's qualification for the job may arise once again. And so, Dazai had been sent down to this hell-hole of a rink in the slums, where a small group of figure skaters trained. The rink was for public use, but the Sheep, as the group called themselves, were free to use the rink for themselves after closing hours. It had a decently-sized rink, and locker rooms that didn't have too many water stains creeping up the walls, and most of the windows weren't shattered or dirt-stained. He, personally, could never imagine having to train in a place like it, but he supposed it was all the group had. They were all kids from the slums, most with no family or anywhere to call home. They were a gang, a found family, call it what you will. A huge sob story Dazai had no interest in paying any mind to.
    The group wasn't anything special; it was just a team of kids that entered regional competitions occasionally. They weren't bad or anything, just nothing extraordinary. That is, until about 2 years ago, when a kid called Chuuya Nakahara had joined them. Now, he was something special. The Port Mafia had started noticing him when he crawled up the ranks and started earning medal after medal. He was good, really good, but the Port Mafia had dismissed him as a low-level threat due to his attachment to the Sheep. He was basically their leader, per se, but his emotional attachment to them kept him from ever going beyond and entering any real competitions, so the Port Mafia never paid much attention to him or the Sheep. Until now.
    Dazai leaned forward, perching his elbows on the wall of the rink, raising one hand to his mouth to call out loud enough for the redhead to hear. "You should turn that loop jump into a Lutz, it fits the flow of your set a little more."
    The skater's eyes snapped open. He started, almost tripping and falling flat on his face before righting himself, which caused Dazai to quietly snicker. The boy's eyes darted around, trying to find the source of the voice, before his harsh glare landed on Dazai. "His stare is so aggressive, he almost looks like a dog growling at me." Dazai thought to himself as the skater opened his mouth to speak. "Who the hell are you?"
    "Judging by how you move, someone who obviously knows how to do this better than you. Now try it, I guarantee it'll make you look more professional, and less like a chicken that stumbled into a pair of skates."
    The redhead held his gaze for a second, thinking it over, scowl still fixed over his features. It was quite the contrast to how calm he'd looked moments ago, dancing on the ice. Apparently having come to a decision, the boy snarled and took off. When he got to the part of the routine Dazai had commented on, he did as the bandaged boy had said and twisted his body into a lutz instead of a loop jump. He finished the set and drifted back over to Dazai, his scowl still present, but with a little less hostility now.
    "So, who are you? Some kinda skating expert?"
    He had an accent. It was the kind of accent you find in the bad part of town, the kind you hear before you get robbed at gunpoint. Quite a rough accent, not graceful in the slightest. But off of this boy's lips, it was like a song, lilting and pretty. nothing like Dazai had ever heard before. Dazai chose not to focus on that part, however.
    He rolled his eyes at the redhead's haughty expression. "I am, actually. My name's Dazai, Dazai osamu. Port Mafia Skating Company," he replied in a bored tone.
    The boy's eyes widened in shock before he caught himself and schooled his features back into his arrogant scowl. "And what business would the Port Mafia Skating Company have here, kid? Since you're so 'high and mighty' and all." He emphasized that last part with a smirk, obviously mocking him. Dazai chose not to waste his time on it, seeing as the kid was obviously just trying to one-up him, and Dazai wasn't in the mood for such childish games at the moment. "You're a kid too, ya know. A small one, at that." he added after a once-over of the boy, realizing his first observation had been correct; he was in fact a few centimeters taller than the redhead.
    The skater's face turned a red that could rival the crimson of his hair, flushed in fury. "I'm only fifteen, I'm still growing, jackass!" he screeched.
"Huh. So, I guessed right. Same age as me." Dazai thought, removing his arms from the wall of the rink, standing up straight. He flicked his hand in dismissal of the shorter boy's anger. "Anyways, to answer your question, I'm here 'cause I'm looking for someone."
    "And you think I can help you?
    Dazai sighed, a tad overdramatically. "Yes, try to keep up, would you? I wouldn't have asked if I didn't think you could help me." The boy's scowl deepened, but he held his tongue. "Now, do you know anything about a skater named Arahabaki?" Dazai continued.
    Dazai mentally congratulated himself as the boy recoiled. Ah, jackpot.
    "What do you know about Arahabaki?"
    "Oh, so you do know them! Great, we're on the same page now. To answer your question, not much! All I know is that they were some hot-shot skater that got gold in their first competition (I still think it was beginners luck, but whatever) and then promptly disappeared from the skating scene. Talk about a one-hit wonder, am I right?"
    The boy frowned, not matching the fake smile Dazai had painted over his face. "So why are you looking for them, all of a sudden?"
    "Well, rumor has it that they're back. which normally wouldn't bother the Port Mafia, but people are also saying they're being trained by someone especially... controversial to us, you might say. the Port Mafia Skating Company's former boss, in fact."
    The redhead was silent for a moment, considering. Finally, he met Dazai's eyes again. "I happen to be looking for Arahabaki for my own reasons. And if you're looking for their trainer, it seems we have a common goal."
    "It would seem that we do. so, what do you suppose we do about that, shortie?"
    The redhead scowled at the nickname. "I'm saying that we could share information, or something, idiot. Also, my name's Chuuya Nakahara, and I'm not that short!"
    "Oh? Chuuya Nakahara? So you're the prestigious king of the Sheep, huh?"
    "I'm not their king! I just... have some good cards up my sleeve, you could say."
    "The card of skill?"
    "What are you trying to say? All of the other members of the Sheep are plenty talented-"
    Dazai cut him off with a dry laugh. "Please. I've heard about you, you know. I've heard that yes, the others have talent, but they all pale in comparison to you. In competitions, they do well enough to get by, but it's you that gets them the medal. You crush all the competitors, those who dare cross your teammates. It's all quite heart warming, how you support them. But, it makes you think, what's the cost? Are you helping them up, or are they dragging you down? How much better could you do if you focused on yourself and your own ability as a solo skater, instead of worrying about them?"
    A flicker of doubt flashed across Chuuya's features by the end of Dazai's mini-monologue, but he blinked it away just as quickly. "Those are some big words from someone who barely knows what he's talking about. If you really think I'm here just for fame, we are never gonna get along. The Sheep are my family, I'd never ditch them for some shiny medal. Because I'm loyal."
    Before Dazai could retort, he was interrupted by a delicate cough. The two boys turned to meet the source of the noise; it was Hirotsu, a member of the Port Mafia that had accompanied Dazai. He was an older man, but still quite elegant in his appearance, with a golden monocle perched on his right cheekbone, and dressed in a formal outfit that was casual enough to be seen in public, but still demanded respect. "If the two of you are done bickering, we have some business to attend to."
Dazai straightened his posture once again, wiping the irritated look off his face and adopting his signature cocky, "I'm-better-than-you-and-i-know-it" smirk. "You're right, I apologize. It seems this punk is a little more irritating than I imagined, is all."
    Chuuya's cheeks burned red in fury once again. "Why, you-" he began, raising an arm to swing at Dazai. Dazai calmly stepped out of reach, the wall of the rink acting as a barrier between the angry redhead and him.
    Hirotsu barely held himself back from rolling his eyes at the childish arrogance coming from the both of them. "Mister Nakahara, we have some questions we'd like to ask you, and I'm sure you have some inquiries for us as well."
    Chuuya sat up, his angry glare calming as he turned his attention from Dazai to the older man. "You bet I do. so, what makes you think we'd have any connection to Arahabaki-"
    Hirotsu cut off the shorter boy with a wave of his hand. "All in due time. why don't we move to somewhere a little more suited for this conversation?"
    Chuuya couldn't find a way to argue with that. He had to admit, their current position of perching on the edge of the ice rink with the sun quickly setting outside was not the best place for a discussion of this caliber. "Alright, old geezer. I'll go with you guys. But on one condition- you gotta tell me everything you know, and in return I'll help the best I can. deal?"
    Hirotsu nodded. "That sounds fair. Shall we go?"
    "Unless you want me tottering there in these knife shoes, I'd like a minute to change." He said as he drifted over to the exit of the rink, a few feet away.
    The image of the feisty redhead limping down a road in skates instantly flashed through Dazai's head, almost making him snort. The two had just met, and the brunette already knew this kid was gonna be fun to mess around with.