Destined

Skate America

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Koharu's POV

It's my last competition with the boys. I'm a little guilty for leaving the club so soon, but I'm too ashamed to face Yuzuru. Even he thinks I'm a nuisance.

But really, who was I to interfere with his personal choices?

He did very well in his Short Programme yesterday, and I loved the triple axel. It's my favorite jump of his.

Personally, I can't skate for shit.

Really, for shit.

It still amazes me how he executes everything so beautifully, as though they didn't require months and years of pain and injuries.

All for the audience.

He's up next for his free programme, while he sits in a corner with Pooh, listening to his music again.

I stare, at no one in particular, for a few moments, thinking about how I'll miss the boys when I leave them.

Nam, for his jokes and lame puns. Javi, for his annoying girl talk and sometimes, wise advice. Yuzu, well, for everything.

And Coach Brian too. It was hell, trying to pay for my school fees and apartment rent at the same time, but he rented his old house to me, at a cheap price, and offered me a job. He's so kind, how can I ever repay him? And now it's the start of the season, but I'm leaving him alone with all these work to do.

"Representing Japan, Yuzuru Hanyu," the announcer calls, as the arena full of supporters welcome him with roaring applause. I see little Japanese flags hung around the arena, some people waving them.

On the far left, a small girl, waving the flag.

My mother used to joke that children had no problems with holding the Japanese flag upside down, since it still looked the same.

Flashback

"Look, look, that boy is so good," Kouji exclaims, on the edge of his seat. He's holding one corner of the Japanese flag, and I'm holding the other.

We've come to support the skaters at the Japan Nationals. With mother and father.

The flag is much bigger than us, and mother reprimands us everytime we let even a little corner of the flag touch the ground.

It's disrespectful, she says.

The mushroom haired boy is on the rink now, gliding on the ice.

He probably had the money to hire a coach since he was very young, and probably had the money to buy pretty boots and costumes.

Kouji wanted to be like that too, but mother couldn't afford the lessons and the boots.

And we got scolded when we tried to attach knives to our home slippers. We thought it would make a decent boot too.

"Mother, why is he gasping like a goldfish?" Kouji asks, pointing at the Mushroom boy, now bent over.

"Some people get more tired than others," mother replies, giving us a gentle smile.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The sound of his music playing snaps me back.

Oh.

Mushroom boy's on ice again, huh.

Our eyes meet and for a second, he smiles.

But I look away.

His music starts, and his face takes on a mask of seriousness as he moves to the music, showing the crowd what kind of character he was playing.

Figure skaters are really good actors too.

His jumps don't go too well, though. He falls, but he gets up again, more determined to show the crowd that he deserved their attention.

Look at me, he demanded, through his eyes and his movements.

The rest of the performance passes in a blur, as an official mistakes me for a member of public, before I fish out my "chaperone" pass, flashing it at the annoying official.

I look back at him.

He's gasping, trying to supply his body with more of the oxygen it needs but never has enough of.

And while doing all of that, he's acting like he's fine.

He finishes the programme, obviously proud of himself, but his knees give way, and he kneels on the ice.

He's not okay.

But he masks the gasping as part of his "lack of stamina", as he sits through kiss and cry with Brian.

His scores are not very good, as expected. I cringe, knowing that he'll probably try to train even harder in the coming weeks.

I'm really worried for him, because when one day, his asthma gives way, and he collapses, I won't be able to help. I'll be just as helpless as the day Kouji collapsed. It's becoming a when, not an if. The way he's forcing himself... It's heartbreaking for me to watch.

I quietly observe him, while he talks to Brian and packs his stuff. He's still pale, but he's breathing quite normally. Yuzuru doesn't look at me much either. Maybe he prefers me not hovering around him.

The rest of the day, as we make our way back to the hotel, he starts coughing a little, and Brian suggests that maybe Yuzuru is coming down with a cold.

I go back to my room, while they return to theirs. Our rooms are rather simple, with a simple bed and the usual stuff, but it's good enough.

That's it. My last competition with the boys. Hopefully he'll be happier when I leave.

Sorry for everything, I drowsily mumble to no one in particular, as I fall asleep, on my couch.