Greetings and salutations! If you're having trouble picturing what kind of woman Reina is, just think of Gabrielle Solis from Desperate Housewives. That's her in a nutshell and the character that I basically based her on :D

Now, as much as we might hate to admit it, we all pick up a lot from our parents - the good, the bad, and everything in between. So I imagined that Kyoya's fearless, adventurous streak had to come from somewhere. In my version of his family, I imagine he takes this trait from his mother. It's woven into her very essence, especially in her line of work as a ski and snowboard instructor, a profession that's as daring and dynamic as she is. I really wanted her to have a career that wasn't cookie-cutter, something that reflects her bold, untamed spirit.

Cracks in the Ice

The alpine air was crisp and biting, the snow-covered peaks of Ischgl glowing under the pale winter sun. The ski resort's slopes were alive with the vibrant chaos of brightly clad skiers carving their way down the powdery snow. Reina, ever the perfectionist, had ensured her sons looked impeccable in their gear - Kyoya in a sleek, forest-green snowboarding jacket with matching pants, and Kakeru in a dark blue ski suit that made him stand out against the icy backdrop. Reina herself was an epitome of elegance in a form-fitting white ski ensemble paired with chic, fur-lined boots, and white beanie, effortlessly blending style and practicality.

Kyoya adjusted the strap of his helmet, watching as Kakeru struggled with his boots, wobbling on the icy ground.

"I don't get it," Kakeru grumbled, yanking at the clasps. "How do people walk in these things, let alone ski?"

Kyoya chuckled. "You're supposed to ski, not walk. That's the point." He crouched down, tightening one of Kakeru's loose straps. "There. Try not to fall on your face."

"Alright, Kakeru," their mother announced brightly, adjusting her gloves and gestured toward the slope. Her sapphire eyes sparkled with the kind of determination that only came with teaching her sons something she loved. "This is going to be so much fun. Once you get the hang of it, you'll love skiing as much as I do. Now, let's start with the basics—"

Reina's words were cut off as Gaou approached, his heavy boots crunching through the snow. He was holding his phone in one hand and a thermos in the other, his brow furrowed in concentration.

"You're late," Reina mumbled in a way that made it obvious she was trying to sound calm. "We've been waiting for twenty minutes."

Her husband glanced up with his trademark frown, slipping his phone into his pocket. "I had a talk with the stakeholders," he replied evenly. "You know how important this project is."

"Oh, of course," Reina scoffed with a sarcastic smile. "Because God forbid we interrupt your work, even on vacation."

"If I didn't work as hard as I do, we wouldn't be here," Gaou shot back with a carefully controlled tone. "These trips don't pay for themselves."

Kyoya looked between his parents, drawing in a slow, steady breath while he mentally prepared for take-off. The cheerful mood from earlier felt as fragile as thin ice, cracking with every passive-aggressive jab, and he couldn't wait to beat a hasty retreat in order to avoid another quarrelling between Gaou and Reina.

Kakeru, oblivious to the tension in the words but not the tone, tugged on Kyoya's sleeve. "Why are they always like this now?" he whispered.

Kyoya scowled, unsure how to respond. "Don't mind it," he muttered.

The arguments between their parents were happening more often now, and Kyoya and Kakeru were well aware of it. Reina and Gaou thought they were being discreet, keeping their voices low or waiting until they were alone upstairs, but it didn't matter - their frustration spilled over into small, pointed comments in front of Kyoya and Kakeru. The boys didn't need to hear every word to know something was wrong, and they had quickly learnt the art of avoidance. They would escape into their own world, spending hours outside with their beyblades or burying themselves in playful competition. But even their laughter felt like an echo against the walls of a house that no longer felt like home. Vacations, which used to feel like a time to relax and have fun as a family, now felt heavy with the same underlying tension. Even in beautiful, faraway places such as the Austrian alps, their parents couldn't escape their frustrations with each other, and the boys couldn't avoid noticing it.

"Boys," Reina called out and turned back to them with a forced smile, having decided to push the daily bickering with her husband for another time. "Let's not waste any more time. Kyoya, what's the big plan this time? Another straight run down the slope, or are you finally going to wow me?"

Recognizing the chance to lighten the mood, Kyoya jumped at it, a sly grin spreading across his face as if he was about to demonstrate something extraordinary. "Straight runs are for rookies, Mom. I'm going for a cork 720 today." His voice dripped with confidence as he announced it, as if he himself had invented the trick.

His mother arched an eyebrow, her lips curving into a knowing smile. "Oh, really? A cork 720? You do know that's not exactly a walk in the park, right? You've got to keep your axis tight and spot your landing early, or you'll eat snow faster than you can say 'ouch'"

The boy strapped into his board, his grin widening. "Please. I've got this. Just watch and learn."

Reina laughed, shaking her head but stepping aside to give him room while Gaou and Kakeru were curiously observing from the sidelines. "Alright, Mr. Pro Snowboarder. Impress me."

With a cheeky mock salute to his audience, Kyoya launching himself down the slope. He carved gracefully through the snow, the edge of his board slicing clean lines as he gained momentum. Reaching the perfect spot, he crouched and leaped into the air, twisting into two clean corkscrew spins. For a heartbeat, Kyoya seemed to hang in the sky, a defiant challenge to gravity. His landing was crisp and controlled, the satisfying crunch of snow beneath him signalling a flawless finish.

Reina let out a whistle of approval, clapping her gloved hands. "Well, colour me impressed! That was clean, Kyoya. You're making me regret not picking snowboarding today."

Kyoya slid to a stop near her with a cocky grin, his chest puffed out. "Told you I'd nail it."

"Of course you would," Gaou proudly chimed in as he joined them, clasping a hand on Kyoya's shoulder. "You always pick things up quickly. You're like me in that way."

Reina's eye twitched, and she looked like she was about to say something snarky when Kakeru's voice piped up from nearby. "Why does he get to do all the cool stuff? I wanna snowboard too!" The seven-year-old's pout was back in full force, his skis barely moving as he stomped, well, as much as someone could stomp on skis.

Reina turned to her youngest with a soft laugh. "Because snowboarding's tougher, and your big brother's had more practice. But don't worry, kiddo. Once you master the slopes on those skis, I'll teach you how to handle a board. Deal?"

The youngest Tategami crossed his arms but nodded grudgingly, his eyes still glued to his older brother, who was smirking at him like a cat who'd just gotten the cream. "Fine. But I want to do that someday."

"Someday, you will," Reina promised, patting Kakeru's helmet. "For now, pizza slice and French fries, okay? Let's get you cruising down this hill like a champ."

The lesson continued, but the air remained heavy. Kyoya felt the weight of the icy wind against his face as he snowboarded down the slope with precision and skill far beyond his years. Snowboarding gave him a sense of freedom, a way to channel his frustrations into the rush of adrenaline that came with each sharp turn. He cast a glance toward Kakeru, who was skiing a gentler slope nearby under Reina's watchful eye. Kakeru's laughter rang out as he wobbled but managed to stay upright, clearly enjoying himself. Yet, even amidst the cheerful bustle of the resort, tension clung to the air. Reina's sharp remarks about Gaou's constant absence and Gaou's curt replies about her lack of understanding for his work ethic were thinly veiled, spilling into every interaction.

Later that day, the Tategami brothers were taking a breather in a nearby ski hut which was bustling with warmth and chatter, a haven against the biting cold outside. Wooden beams and cosy nooks gave the space a rustic charm, with steaming plates of hearty Austrian fare weaving a symphony of tantalizing smells through the air. Tables were crammed with people chatting in a medley of languages, their voices blending into a lively hum that filled the room like a symphony of world travellers.

Kyoya sat back in his chair, casually stabbing at a piece of golden-brown schnitzel on his plate, while Kakeru eagerly dug into a steaming bowl of goulash, the rich aroma of paprika and tender beef making his mouth water. A basket of fresh, crusty bread sat between them, along with a plate of käsespätzle, dripping with melted cheese. Outside, the snow-covered slopes gleamed under the fading sun, a picturesque view framed by the large window beside their table.

"This schnitzel's not bad," Kyoya declared with the self-assurance of a food critic, chewing thoughtfully. "Almost makes up for how cold it was today."

Kakeru wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his cheeks still red from the chill. "I like this soup thing," he decided, gesturing to his goulash with his spoon. "Way better than what we get at home."

Kyoya smirked, sipping from his cola. "Yeah, well, enjoy it while it lasts. Mom's not exactly the cooking type."

Kakeru giggled but quickly fell quiet when his gaze shifted to the window. Outside, near a row of parked skis, Reina and Gaou were in the middle of what was clearly an intense conversation. Reina's animated gestures and Gaou's stiff posture told the story without sound, their body language a silent storm of frustration.

"They're fighting again," Kakeru muttered, his spoon hovering over his bowl.

Kyoya followed his brother's gaze, his jaw tightening. Reina pointed sharply at Gaou and he, in turn, gestured toward the slopes, his voice likely rising, though the thick glass muffled it. Even without hearing a word, Kyoya could read the scene like a book: another argument, another fault line in the fragile ground they all stood on.

"Just ignore it," Kyoya felt like a broken record that has been playing the same songs for months on end. He tore off another piece of bread and shoved it into his mouth, as if eating could drown out the sight.

Kakeru frowned, stirring his goulash with less enthusiasm. "But why do they always—"

"They just do, okay?" Kyoya snapped, and regretted it as soon as he saw Kakeru flinch. "Look, it's not our problem. Let them sort it out. Finish your soup, or I'm eating the rest."

His younger brother huffed but went back to his bowl, though the weight of the moment lingered. Kyoya leaned back in his chair, glancing back out the window. His parents' silhouettes were stark against the pearly background, their fight as vivid as a crack in the ice.

Kyoya tore his eyes away from the window, forcing himself to focus on the plate in front of him, though his appetite had long disappeared. The silence between him and Kakeru was heavy, louder than words could ever be. Neither of them dared to say it out loud, but the truth hung between them like a shadow: the growing tension between their parents was no longer a passing storm. It was a constant undercurrent, reshaping their days in ways they didn't yet know how to fix.

Am I promoting Austria again? You bet I am! But no, seriously, how can I not when they have the stunning Alps? From personal experience (and friends' horror stories), these places are far from budget-friendly. For someone like Reina, who's a ski instructor and has a flair for luxury, it's the ultimate getaway.

Hope you enjoyed the chapter!