Work Text:
The sound of increasingly shallow breaths mingled with discordant plastic thuds as they dissolved through the gymnasium: a frantic orchestra in a lonely hall that only served to remind Key Nagatatsu more of the looming deadline that could spell his end at Kal Asterok. He had been at this dazed flurry of kicks and flames for so long that his eyes had begun to ache, but his fist stayed clenched and his tama remained active nontheless.
His foot moved towards the ball, infused with animus. This wasn't just for him: this was Sugoi on the line, his mum's legacy, and most of all, the Knights.
Failure meant so much more than expulsion.
His own cobalt flames bristled against fragile skin, vision swimming as his muscles tensed in that classic motion, again and again. Knee, waist, kick, crash. Knee, waist kick, crash. And each time, those words pushed again against the loose tightrope of his sanity.
"Why can't you be more like your mother?" That truly was the question, wasn't it? The one he had been asking himself since he got here, the one Sugoi had been keeping behind her lips for the sake of cushioning him, until his pathetic nature was truly undeniable. He would never be her, never reach those heights. Never feel like he deserved a place on the Knights.
Not for the first time in the past hour, a gutteral roar left his throat. And the dragon followed that vocalised herald.
The flames spewed out from his chest, his very essence pooling into crowns of bristling chaos. And, if he were to be truthful, he'd admit that he wasn't quite sure whether the sensation was agonising or exhilarating. To let go for a moment, to not have to think. To simply be the fire. He let the flame spread for a moment, let himself feel it wash over him, pinch at his reinforced skin. The child lied there, exhausted, and wallowed in his despair.
"I miss her," he whispered to nobody in particular. "I miss mom." The woman he had never got to know, the one who apparently loved him unconditionally. What he wouldn't do for that now. Eyes closed and drowning in blue, he wondered if she would have still loved him now.
Moments later, however, a new sensation fell upon him— one he hadn't felt in days. A chill pierced through the arcane storm, and a voice called out through his cocoon of burning sapphire and wispy tears. It was a sharp voice, both urgent and assured, and it would be the voice to yank him out of this spiral of waking nightmares.
"Ice wave!" His saviour called, and peace arrived.
"Sk-Skadi?"
The woman's right hand - the one forged of beautiful, crystalline ice - pulled him up desperately from the bed of frost she had created to douse the flames. Her eyes met his, and in it, he saw the last thing he wanted to in that moment: yet another person worried about him.
"Key! What the– your tama– are you okay?"
Here it was, he knew. The choice. Rope someone else into his own suffering again, like he had done with Ssyelle, with the Knights, or take the responsibility he had to. Skadi was a good person. He knew that much about her. She didn't deserve getting her time wasted by him.
He stepped back, pulling from her touch, before he spoke:
"Yeah... yeah, I'm okay. Listen, Skadi. I'm trying to train. I know you mean well, but leave me alone. Please."
"That looked more like you were trying to burn yourself alive, not train! And I know those flames can hurt you. Don't act like they can't."
"How would you know‽"
Fire lashed around him, as if summoned by his ragged shout. It wasn't that he meant to sound angry, not particularly. He just didn't want to hurt anyone else. Being Key was like being a vortex, a black hole of uselessness that people kept thinking would be revolutionary as long as they kept throwing their futures into it.
"Key. I pulled you out of that burning room. I saw your sleeping body flinching away. I don't care if you're resistant, you aren't immune. And we both know it. Stop lying, please." Her voice began to match his, and he shirked away. He hadn't meant this to happen. He really hadn't. He didn't want another shouting match. He couldn't–
"Look, I'm sorry. I'm not here to get angry. I'm just... intense sometimes, remember?" Skadi's voice was so warm for someone defined by ice, Key found himself thinking. "If you're training, could I at least stay here? Train with you? We don't have to talk, I promise."
No. No, he wouldn't let this happen. The grey lump in his gut was pushing up to the throat, screeching to be vomited out. This was Sugoi's own rising star striker: he couldn't leech off The Dragons even more than he already was.
"My tama, it's not safe to be around. You could get hurt."
She touched him again. Her arm was on his shoulder, and he felt cold once more.
"Ice, remember?" A small, almost coy smile inched onto her face, the kind of smile of someone who Key desperately wanted to protect– not put in harm's way. The smile of someone who let kindness lead their life. "I'll be safe. And I should get in some defence practice myself, if we're being honest."
She was making excuses. Anyone could tell that much. But, moons, she just seemed so geniune. Maybe doing this with some company wouldn't be a horrible idea? Grabbing the nearest ball, he attempted his best smile - though his bloodshot eyes must have made it unsettling at best - and took a moment to breathe properly.
"Well, okay! But we're stopping if it gets too hot, okay?"
"Of course."
She was beautiful when so determined, he found himself thinking a few minutes later, after a few rounds of back and forth play. He couldn't help but take a moment. Truly appreciate how this felt. There was something about her presence that was anchoring: just as passionate as him and still limitlessly caring.
Fire met ice, waves of blue pushing against each other, and for a moment, he forgot about deadlines. She rode on her tama's trail so effortlessly, an elegant spirit and a force of nature simultaneously. He found himself grinning in awe again, the fan in him creeping out once more. He remembered the wonder of his youth, hearing of the great escapades of gorotama players and longing to see them. He remembered how much he longed to simply be in the same room as one. He remembered the ecstasy of last summer, his dreams all ready to be realised. And, suddenly, the burden of those memories became undeniable. The words he had resisted saying flew out of his mouth, their back and forth dance of kicks creating the space for the unsayable to be heard:
"I'm really jealous of you sometimes, you know?"
The ball rolled to the side of the gym, Skadi's rhythmic kicks coming to a sudden stop.
"Jealous? Of me? I'm not sure I understand..."
Key took in a deep breath; sharing this with Skadi was suddenly the whole world to him. "All summer I was dreaming of glory in the Dragons. Being the new star striker, the tama everyone was talking about. Most of all, my heroes - people like Sugoi - being proud of me.
"You have that now, not me. And don't get me wrong– you've earned it! Your tama is amazing, and you're absolutely skilled! Young me would have had you in his top five players, no doubt! It's just, well, I always wanted to inspire people the way you are now, and instead, I'm making people... scared. I never wanted to make people scared."
Skadi walked up to the spiralling Key in front of her, and out of her mouth came something that shocked them both: the low tone of her chuckle twitched through the air. There was something oddly melodius about the jagged laugh to Key, a joy even now that he simply hadn't expected.
"You're kidding," she muttered, a sly look painted on her face, "you must be joking, somehow. Key Nagatatsu, look at me for a second.
Their eyes met again, and the mood in the room shifted so spontaneously once more. What once was an existential breakdown was now two friends poking at each other.
"You and Milo managed something against Pregrina that shocked literally everyone. You made that jelly dragon and now all the other banner teams are racing to catch up! You've inspired fans, of course, but more than that, Key: you've inspired the whole league!"
"You can't keep doing this, you know," He responded— some of her enthusiastic wit bleeding into him, despite all the murky grey that painted his mind in that moment. "You keep using my words against me, each time we meet! First the banner trials with all that 'listen to your own advice' talk, and now this! Someone's gotta stop you!"
"Well, it ain't gonna be you, 'cause you know I'm right!"
It was more magic than any tama could be, that moment. Two teens, standing in an empty gym, laughing their asses off when Key really just felt like crying. Just half an hour ago, he was trying to stop her talking to him, and now she just kept getting away with quips, like some kind of trickster goddess! She looked the part to Key, too: that cyan hair and immaculate eyeliner day in and day out. It was simply unfair that the universe gave someone such a silver tongue and golden features simultaneously. Yet, he couldn't find any jealousy arising within him– all he felt was an overwhelming desire to crush Skadi in the biggest, most tight hug in the lands.
"Okay, okay," he started again, after the laughter had died down, "you may have a small point. But my tama could still seriously hurt people: look what it did to Milo! Sugoi says—"
"Goyen Sugoi is strict and technical, and that works for me. That works for the Dragons, the team she coaches. But you aren't a dragon– you're a Knight. I know it isn't easy, the pressure she places on people, and for some of us that makes us push harder, but it's stressing you out, Key. Maybe you should start listening to the Knight instead of the Dragon. Way I see it, that's more likely to get you this signature move you want so bad."
"I- I don't know, Dee..." Dee? That was new. When had he gotten nickname level close with her? "Maybe it'd be safer to just call it quits and head home... I don't wanna hurt Milo again."
Shrugging, she pointed outwards, towards the doors of the gym. "Well, okay then. I'm not gonna stop whatever decision you wanna take. Just do me a favour, ok? Talk to your team first. Not the Dragons, but the Knights, okay?"
"I'll try my best."
"That's all any of us - any of us in our right minds at least - ask."
"Thank you, Skadi."
He began to walk out but stopped, hearing a call from behind.
"Least I could do for ya, hatchling boy."
"Hatchling boy, really?"
"Prove me wrong out there! I know you can!"
And, wven as he walked to tell Ssyelle what he had decided - the fact that he really did think he had failed - the fan within him, the skeleton of who he had once been, called out. Crying to prove her wrong, to meet her in the stadium, and to win. That day, though he hadn't realised it quite yet, Key had found a lifelong rival, and maybe the spark needed to earn his place in Kal Asterok once more.