And the World Fell Down
By Baine
Email: ladybaine at gmail dot com
Finished: August 7th, 2007
Posted: October 7th, 2007
This chapter occurs before/during the first episode of the anime series.
I reallllllllllly wanted to get this out to y’all back in August, alas, my two beta-readers/editors haven’t watched Ginban Kaleidoscope yet. They keep promising to, but they’re very busy. I finally decided not to wait anymore. I hope you enjoy this story! I got really inspired to re-watch the series and write more after all of the wonderful reviews from Touching Sky. Normally, reviews aren’t inspirational to get my butt moving, but your wonderful words gave me so many ideas.
This chapter is dedicated to everyone who reviewed Touching Sky. You all had a major impact on this story, which never would have come to pass if I hadn’t re-watched the series due to you. THANK YOU!!
I hope you enjoy this!
Also, I'm looking for your opinion: Is it better to use "Peet" or "Pete?" I'm pretty sure that the name is actually Pete and that it was translated as Peet due to katakana, but it isn't always exact. I always feel like I'm typo-ing when I write Pete, but in the end, what spelling do you want to see the most? (Wow, and my summary is so lame. Any ideas for a better summary? I'd totally credit you.
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And the World Fell Down
By Baine
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The world tilted on its axis in a blur of color, swirling together at a dizzying rate. A moment later, red entered the mix, then everything faded to black.
Sakurano Tazusa stared up into the rafters of the ceiling with a grimace. The ice was cold against her back, seeping through the warm layer of clothing encasing her and brushing its freezing fingers against her skin. Sprawled at an awkward angle, she grimaced as her coach, Takashima Yuuji, offered her a hand up.
His mouth was set in a frowned and his bushy eyebrows sat low on his forehead, furrowing into a unibrow as his scowl deepened. “You overextended your leg again.”
“If I don’t, I’ll never get the height I need.”
“Maybe it’s not meant to be.”
“I’ll never medal if I can’t match the other girls, Coach. Ria always does everything perfectly, Dominique’s a jumping machine, Ta—”
“If you don’t stop thinking about what others can do and start focusing on what you can do, you’ll keep failing. Perfection requires all of your attention; you can’t afford to divert it toward more trivial matters.”
“Yeah, okay.” Tazusa brushed him off with a shake of her violet-black hair. She’d heard the lecture a thousand times before and didn’t much care to hear it again.
Heading off the ice, she slipped on her guards and made her way to the locker room, only to find her entrance barred by the ashen-haired girl propped against the door.
“You know, Tazusa, it’s not the ice’s ass you’re supposed to be kissing up to if you want to medal tomorrow.” The lanky girl stood with her hands on her hips, a malicious smirk on her face as she began to chortle.
Tazusa recognized her as the American singer Dominique Miller. While she wasn’t sure exactly what her rival had just said because she’d never paid attention during English class, she was still able to recognize an insult when she heard one. Then again, the older girl never had anything nice to say to anyone. She was the archetypal American, rude, obnoxious, and daring enough to wear skimpy outfits on the ice that Tazusa would never even dream of wearing. For last night’s short program, Dominique had worn a style similar to the Gothic Lolita fashion currently popular back home, only most of the fabric consisted of black fishnet save for the black satin choker at her throat adorned with a small red bow, which perfectly matched the garter on her thigh. Her hands had been encased by gloves made popular by some American singer named Maikeru Jyakuson or something, and she had been wearing skates professionally designed to look like, in Tazusa’s opinion, hooker boots.
Deciding it was better to ignore the girl than to throw mangled Engrish back at her, Tazusa quietly ducked past her and made her way to her locker and began to change. This worked out in her favor as the action inadvertently made Dominique angry enough to storm out after spewing a ton of English in which the word ‘bitch’ was used repeatedly. That was one word Tazusa did know.
Smirking to herself, she shoved her practice suit into her duffle bag and zipped it up, hearing muffled laughter behind her as she stood and walked out of the locker room. She had a feeling they were gossiping about the clothes she’d chosen to wear, but she really didn’t care. Unlike everyone else, she wasn’t planning to leave the rink anytime soon. She had, however, wanted to change into something less conspicuous and more comfortable. Who would ever think she was a famous international skater when she was decked out in a grubby sweatsuit?
Making her way to the food court, Tazusa stared aimlessly at the menu above her. The English swirled before her eyes, running together in ways that seemed impossible to pronounce. Now she remembered why she’d never studied in school.
Her attention turned toward the pictures scattered across the menu and she wrinkled her nose. Hamburgers, hot dogs, popcorn? How could they serve so much junk food at a rink? It wasn’t healthy. She finally decided to settle on the salad; how could they screw that up?
Stepping up to the counter, she pulled upon the little English she remembered, stating, “I want...” Shit, what was it called again? She glanced up at the menu once more. “ I want gar-garu-garuden sarudo and...and water, please.”
“A garden salad? Sure.” The girl at the counter cracked her gum, giving Tazusa a curious look. “Do you want to add chicken for an extra loonie?”
“...What?”
“Chicken. Do you want chicken?”
“Ah, chi-ken! Oh, yes, thank you.” She knew what chicken was. Thank goodness for katakana!
“What kind of dressing do you want?”
“...What?”
The girl sighed, annoyance creeping across her face. “Dressing. You know, Caesar, Italian, Ranch...?”
“Ano, what?” Tazusa frowned. Dressing, dressing...the word didn’t ring any bells. She turned with a start as a firm hand came down against her shoulder. She peered up at the tall boy towering over her, his shaggy blond hair falling into slate-blue eyes alight with mirth.
“Do you need some help?” he asked, speaking to her in perfect Japanese. Seeing her pole-axed look, he continued, “Can you understand me? I heard you say ano and listened to your accent and just assumed—”
“Yes, I understand you. Sorry, you took me by surprise. You speak my language very well.”
“Ah, well, my parents used to work in Japan, so we lived there for a few years and I became pretty fluent in the language.”
“I see.” Tazusa peered at him curiously, no longer quite as wary as she’d be a scant minute earlier.
The boy began to speak to the cashier in rapid-fire English before turning back to Tazusa. “You want a bottle of water and a garden salad with chicken, right?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“What kind of dressing do you want?”
“Ah, dressing! None, thank you. It’s bad for your health.”
He relayed the message to the cashier, then gave Tazusa a once-over. “Do you speak French?”
“No, why?”
“Well, if you don’t speak French or English, you’re definitely not Canadian. Did you come here from Japan to participate in the Second Stage, or are you only here for moral support?”
Tazusa pursed her lips together. “What makes you think I’m not merely a spectator?”
“Why would you come from so far away merely to watch, especially with the Olympics right around the corner? It makes more sense to save up your money for Italy.”
“Unless you’re rich and can blow it all on travel and tickets.”
“Are you?”
Tazusa opened her mouth, then shut it again. She made good money from being an idol skater and doing endorsements back in Japan, but she didn’t really have the time or inclination to do anything with it. Finally, she muttered, “I’m a participant from Japan.”
She turned and attempted to smile as the cashier handed her a tray with her meal. “Sankyuu,” she said, turning to look for a table. She’d never been able to say that word properly since ‘th’ wasn’t a sound she could easily pronounce, but luckily, the cashier seemed to understand her, calling out a cheerful “You’re welcome!” as Tazusa walked away.
“Do you want some company? I’m on break at the moment.”
“Are you skating this week, too?”
“Nah, I’m just helping out at the snack bar. My friend works here and they’re inundated with business at the moment.”
“So you live here.”
“Yep, I’m Canadian through and through.”
Tazusa looked him over once more. He seemed friendly enough; she didn’t think he’d try anything in a place as crowded as the rink. He wasn’t ugly, either. Her eyes roved over his wholesome features, his skin tan and unblemished. He was the epitome of her country’s vision of a foreigner with his golden hair and eyes the color of the sky. He reminded her of a dashing prince from a Western fairytale, and she found herself unable to tear her eyes away from him.
Meeting his inquisitive gaze, she realized she’d been staring and felt heat rise to her cheeks. What had they been talking about again? Oh, yes, eating together. Struggling to maintain eye contact, she managed to utter, “I don’t normally sit with people I don’t know. You could be a stalker or working for one of my rivals or something.”
He flashed her a lopsided grin, causing her breath to catch in her throat. “My name’s Peter Pumps, but you can call me Peet. Want to see my rink pass for proof?”
She returned his smile with a timid one of her own. “No, that’s okay. I’ll be daring and take a chance on you.”
“You don’t normally rely on chance?”
“Not in this profession. My coach yells at me if I try something new or crazy.” A dark expression crossed her face.
“Carpe diem.”
“What?”
“It’s Latin. It means ‘seize the day.’ You know, ‘take a chance.’ Just because something hasn’t been done before doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try to do it. I would say that’s especially rue in your profession. I mean, maybe you’ll invent something new or develop a signature move that will have girls across the world attempting to be the next—uh, what did you say your name was again?”
“I didn’t.” At his expectant look, she let out a puff of air and slid into a nearby booth that had recently been vacated, inclining her head in invitation. As he sat across from her, she forced herself to hold her head high as she stated, “My name’s Sakurano Tazusa.”
When recognition didn’t dawn in his eyes, she let out the breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding. He didn’t know her. Perhaps she could make a fresh start. Here was someone who could finally getting to know her before slamming down the heavy gavel of judgment. She speared her salad with renewed vigor.
“What do you normally do when you’re not helping out a friend?” she asked, suddenly curious about the boy sitting across from her.”
“I’m a pilot.”
“A pilot?” Her eyes widened. She’d thought he was her age, but apparently he was older than she’d thought.
Peet laughed at her baffled expression. “Well, I’ll be a pilot someday. I’m still in training now.”
“So you don’t have a license?”
“I do, but I’m not chartering people around on flights or anything like that. I’m practicing to be a stunt pilot.” He grinned across at her. “You dance on the ice and I dance in the air.”
“Wow, I never knew—I mean, I never thought—That is...”
He grinned again. It’s a pretty innovative dream, isn’t it?”
“But a good one.” Tazusa offered him a tentative smile. “So, I guess you know what you’re talking about in regards to all this chance stuff then, huh?”
He pursed his lips thoughtfully and stared over Tazusa’s head at something only he could see. “Mm, I guess you could say that, yeah. Then again, what enjoyment can you get out of life if you don’t let loose every now and again?”
“Well, I wouldn’t be sitting here talking to you.”
“Is that good or bad?”
A surprised laugh pushed its way past Tazusa’s lips. “Uh, maybe a little of both?”
She clanked her fork against the side of her plate, her eyes widening as she realized she was the only one eating. “Gosh, Peet, why didn’t you tell me I was being rude and all? You’re probably on your dinner break, too, aren’t you?” she bit her lip in chagrin. “I mean...” She scanned the half-empty plate before her. “Um, I have some tomatoes left you can have, or—”
“No, it’s okay. I ate earlier. Besides, I never eat tomatoes. I hate them more than anything else.”
“Really? How come? I love them.” She pushed at a small tomato with the edge of her fork. “Does it bother you that I’m eating them in front of you? I can—”
“No, it’s fine, really.” He placed a hand over her own in order to get her attention. His ploy succeeded better than he could have imagined, for Tazusa instantly flushed as her hand was encased by his heat.
How could he remain so warm when surrounded by so much ice? The feeling spread until she couldn’t remember ever having been cold at all. She blinked drowsily as she allowed his lilting voice to lull her into a peaceful state of mind she hadn’t been acquainted with in months, maybe even years.”
“...but, yeah, my hatred really annoys my mom. She hates eating pizza with me because if it’s heavy on the sauce, I’ll scrape it away. My plate will be lined at the rim with clumps of sauce. It really revolts her.”
“Really?” Tazusa laughed, amused.
“Yeah. I don’t like the smell, either. I hate eating at Italian restaurants because the smell of sauce can be so overpowering. This one time, I was at work—I used to work at a drugstore and we always had to stock the merchandise. Anyway, this one time, I was wheeling totes out of the back stockroom and all of a sudden, it smelled like something had died. I told my manager and he just laughed at me, but when I opened this one tote, it was full of broken V8 bottles swimming around in a pool of juice. The smell was so bad that my manager had to clean the tote because I thought I’d puke if I stood there any longer.”
“Wow, that’s crazy.”
“If I could change it, I—well, I wouldn’t, really, because tomatoes are so repulsive, but maybe I’d make it so I could at least tolerate the smell.”
“You wouldn’t like natto, then. That has a really bad smell!”
“Oh, but it tastes so good!”
She stared at him, shocked. “You like natto?”
“Hey, it’s not just the Japanese who can stomach the stuff.”
Tazusa smothered another smile. How could he make her lose her infamous ‘poker face’ so many times tonight? It was uncanny.
“Are you going home—or, rather, to a hotel or wherever you’re staying—after this?”
“No, I’m going to wait for the free-skate crowd to thin out a bit, then practice a jump I’ve been having trouble with.”
“What kind of trouble?”
“Ah, well, I don’t spin as fast as some of the other girls, so I’m tring to add another rotation, but I keep crashing because I’m jumping too high and overextending my leg at the take-off.”
“It sounds like you find a way to take chances every now and again after all.”
“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean it’s easy.”
“The best things in life never are, are they?” Peet glanced at the silver watch adorning his wrist and frowned. “I should probably be getting back to work now.”
“Will you be here again tomorrow?” The question slipped past her lips before she had the chance to consider it.
“Well, I’m flying in the morning, but I should be back before the Woman’s Short Program starts in the afternoon. I’ll make sure to root for you.”
“Thanks, Peet. Your support will mean a lot to me.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tazusa paced nervously, listening to the resounding applause as the night’s favored skater to win, a Russian named Ria Garnet Juitiev, finished her routine and headed off to the Kiss and Cry Area.
Breathing nervously, she fumbled with the zipper of her windbreaker and shrugged if off, handing it to Coach Takashima along with her skate guards.
“Don’t do anything stupid out there, Tazusa,” he warned as he tucked her belongings beneath his arm.
“Who, me?” She shot him a saucy look and stepped onto the ice, unconsciously scanning the audience for a flash of gold as she struck her opening pose.
The opening notes of Strauss’ “Blue Danube” filtered through the auditorium and soon thereafter, Tazusa found herself caught up in the joy of skating. She grew bolder as the audience cheered when she landed her Triple-Lutz/Triple-Toe Combo, sending a spray of ice up in the process. Fueled by the surplus of energy that came from skating a clean routine, Peet’s voice suddenly sprang to mind.
Carpe diem. Seize the day. Take a chance.
Her big finale was coming up and, after an unsuccessful practice the night before, she’d decided to play it safe today. If she skated clean, she could snag the bronze without throwing in anything complicated.
Just because something hasn’t been done before doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try to do it.
Why settle for bronze when she had a chance to claim gold? Maybe she’d met Peet for a reason. This was it. Her moment to shine had arrived. She would no longer walk in the shadows of more established skaters such as Shitou Kyoko. No, she, Sakurano Tazusa, was about to give birth to a new legend.
She circled the rink, faster, faster—was that a flash of golden hair in the first row? And she was suddenly up and airborne, spinning around and around.
For a moment, Tazusa was able to spread her wings and fly. Unfortunately, she wasn’t a bird, and by slowing down when she thought she saw Peet, she lost the momentum needed to maintain a full three revolutions in the air.
Like a bird shot down she fell, violet hair spilling onto the ice as she lay spread-eagle, her purple and white skating dress pooled around her like broken wings.
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I think this will have another chapter. I have an idea, which is why I started to begin with, but this also works really well as a one-shot. I’m going to mark this as complete for in case I can’t flesh out my idea, but there may be another chapter to come, so keep an eye out! I like how it coincided with the first episode and even went earlier, though. What about you? Would you like to see more?
Wow, this was written just past the one-year anniversary of when I wrote my first Ginban fic. I have a few more ideas up my sleeve, so hopefully I can write them all!
STORY NOTES:
NOTE 1: Maikeru Jyakuson =Michael Jackson. That’s the way the Japanese people say his name. I have katakana in a couple of other spots as well to show the difference between Tazusa’s language and the foreign English she’s suddenly forced to encounter. Let me know if you can’t figure something out. ^_^ Sometimes, this katakana form of English is called “Engrish.” ‘Sankyuu’ is another example of this. Th is REALLY hard to pronounce, so it isn’t uncommon to hear this version of the word!
NOTE 2: I looked up slang for the Canadian Dollar used in speech and “loonie” was one of the terms. If this isn’t what’s used, can you let me know so I can correct it? I don’t know much about Canadian currency!
NOTE 3: Peet, I feel your hatred of tomatoes! [In fact, the above stories about the V8 and my mom hating the way I always scrape pizza sauce onto my plate are both true stories. I thought that they provided good characterization, too, and if I do continue this piece, the scene will be important, so yeah. ^^]
NOTE 4: Natto is a Japanese food. It’s basically fermented beans and it smells really bad. It’s a common belief in Japan that Japanese people are the only ones who can enjoy natto, fueled in part by the fact that many foreigners don’t want to try it [after hearing so many ‘bad’ stories about it!]
Like it? Hate it? I’m the one to talk to! Hit the little review button or Email ladybaine at gmail dot com today!
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«•´¨•.¸¸. Baine.¸¸.•¨•»
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