A/N: This is a part of my contribution to the Figure Skating AU Collab 'Iced' with fellow writer's Sylvermyth and Nicayal! You can find the rest of the collection on here under their profiles or on AO3, so please check out their stories, too! Sylvermyth is writing from Axel's POV; Nicayal from Roxas' (and possibly Riku), respectively. These stories will all involve AkuRoku and Soriku in a snarky, competitive, figure skating setting.
I am in no way an expert on figure skating, but I've done a bit of research to at least be semi-accurate. Please forgive me for any glaring errors!
The Tanchõzuru.
Most people would assume, from just looking at a boy like Sora, that his favourite time of the year was the long, hot days of the summertime. In the part of the world in which he lived, his naturally tanned skin seemed odd, as if he'd spent a lot of his time on a beach somewhere, and his overall countenance was always bright and sunny; his smile literally lighting up a whole room with its warmth – but all those things aside, the season that Sora had always loved best, was actually winter.
Everything about the winter season made Sora's little heart sing. It was about snuggling up under four comforters with a mug of hot chocolate clasped tightly between his two hands; it was getting to wear fluffy ear warmers to school, and blue mittens made just for him by his grandmother; it was in the way the sparkling night sky seemed clearer, the elements rawer – more real, but most of all, the wintertime was ice and snow.
Snow was beautiful; at such a young age Sora couldn't yet comprehend how the little bits of white confetti falling outside of his bedroom window seemed to be fluttering down from the sky itself. He never made the connection between rain and snow, because with rain, it always seemed like the sky was crying…but with snow, it was celebrating. His mother would often have to call him inside as he forgot everything else and stood mesmerised; the confetti falling all around him, settling on his thin shoulders and dampening his tenaciously spiked hair. He would lift his hands high above his head and stare up at them transfixed, as the strikingly cold snow drifted through his splayed fingers.
Like chocolate to milk, or macaroni with cheese, Sora could never enjoy the snow without its perfect accompaniment. He had always loved to go fast, his boundless levels of energy forever demanding that he never stood still for long, so it only seemed natural that his fascination with winter would include the exhilarating rush of ice skating, as well.
It was his older brother, Vanitas, who had first shoved a hockey stick into his hand and helped lace him up into his own pair of skates when he was just four years old. His father; being a keen player of Ice Hockey himself in his youth, was overjoyed to see his sons so interested in the sport that had given him such lasting memories.
Vanitas played with his school friends regularly, and often took Sora along to watch. Sora's big, blue eyes wouldn't leave the rink for a second as the older kids dodged and weaved around each other, their game of hockey clumsy but fast-paced. His heart would beat like a drum. It was so exciting. He wanted to play, too.
Afterwards, when the other boys had played long enough and tired themselves out, Vanitas would hold Sora's hand and lead him out onto the ice; Sora wrapped up in an oversized padded coat, looking for all the world like a fluffy marshmallow as he tottered forwards on his miniature skates. The smooth surface of the ice easily propelled him along, and Vanitas always made sure he never fell too hard, but where most children his age would have felt scared and unstable on the slippery ice, Sora only felt this overwhelming sense of happiness and wonder. The ice instantly felt familiar to him, even more so than walking on solid ground. Within the space of a few months, and with regular practice, Sora was skating without his brother's assistance. It was like flying; the cool, crisp air of the rink filled his lungs and stung at his cheeks, his feet gliding and sweeping effortlessly over the ice. He trembled sometimes, and held his arms out for balance, but Sora never gave up. Even though he was still so young, he was already determined to be the best.
For many years, Sora played Ice Hockey, and with the help of his brother, became exceptionally good at it. Even in the warmer months he practiced skating in his free time, loving nothing more than being on the ice. Eventually he joined the junior team at school and played games weekly at the town's local rink. He was fierce – confident, having no fear of injury or failure at only six years old.
His love of moving fluidly across the ice was a natural progression from simply wobbling around in his skates, so it would only make sense that his passion for the art would grow to soaring, new heights.
Finishing a practice session one afternoon at his local rink, Sora glided over towards the boards feeling slightly weary, but accomplished. Vanitas was already sitting off to one side and removing his skates. It had just been the two of them today, Vanitas being a couple of years senior, usually practiced with his older teammates, but whenever he could, he would always made time to skate with Sora.
It was a Tuesday and as Sora started patiently unlacing his own skates he looked up at the rink and instantly realised that they had never been here to practice on a Tuesday before. There was a group of five people he had never seen before, all of them a lot older than him and Vanitas, and they were stepping out onto the ice one by one. Whereas his movements on the ice had always been all about speed and sharp turns, these people moved nothing like hockey skaters. They danced – twirled, their steps light and easy, almost delicate in their smooth connection with the ice. Everything was silken motion, sweeping turns, graceful spins and soaring jumps.
Sora was entranced; he likened the skaters to the rippling fluidity of water, like flurries of snowflakes caught in a swirling updraft. Unbidden to his mind, he was reminded of a documentary he had seen on the television about the Japanese Red-crowned Crane – they were so elegant and beautiful.
Noticing where he was looking, Vanitas nudged his shoulder. "You're too young to be looking at girls," he'd teased, Sora blinking out of his reverie.
"…Why don't we skate like that?" He remembered asking innocently. Vanitas, now looking over at the other skaters too, promptly snorted and shot him an arrogant smirk. "They're just prancing around like a bunch of fairies. Hockey is what real men do."
Sora didn't say anything, but he couldn't help but think differently. In his mind, fairies were magical mysterious beings, and the skaters in front of him definitely seemed like that. Sure, hockey was fun, but where the game seemed to more brutalise and dominate the ice, the skaters in front of him respected it – their close partnership so perfect, it was as if they were one.
Sora managed to tear his eyes away and dutifully followed Vanitas out of the rink, but his thoughts stayed with the figure skaters inside. It was in that moment, that Sora wanted nothing more than to be exactly like them.