Page 117 of Off the Edge

We showered together, so familiar now that it didn’t even cross our minds not to. “You nervous?” I asked him, raising my voice around the sound of the falling water.

“About the gala? No.”

I’d caught his delay as he lathered himself in soap suds. “About something else?”

He smiled, and that was all I got. About us. I saw it in his eyes, even though he didn’t say it. I knew what he meant. We had the gala. We were about to show the world exactly what we meant to each other. But then what?

What came after?

FORTY-TWO

COMMENTATOR

“Welcome back to the Sapporo Olympic Exhibition Gala. One of the truly enjoyable things about figure skating is this evening. The competing has ended. The scores have been recorded, medals awarded, and the pressure that’s been building on these athletes, often for years, has eased.

Tonight, there are no levels to score. No technical panels and no deductions. This gala belongs to the skaters. They are free to choose their music, their choreography, and the stories they wish to tell. We have already seen humor tonight. We have seen extraordinary athleticism and performances created for the pure joy of skating.

And now we have the final presentation, the finale of fun.

This performance, ladies and gentlemen, is something of a mystery, and a late addition to the schedule. The official program only gives us a title? The Battle. No skaters are named, no country is listed. I have actually asked who’ll be performing and nobody seems to know, at least not outside of the officials. Which is unusual. The organizers have apparently decided the broadcasters will enjoy the surprise alongside the audience. So here we are.

The arena lights are beginning to dim.

The rink is completely dark now, save for the emergency lights around the boards. Goodness, you can hear a pin drop in this arena. Anticipation has been building all day for this mystery segment.

We wait . . . more than ten thousand people have gathered in the arena this evening. The Olympic galas and their entertaining displays are always extremely popular.

No movement on the ice yet. It really is pitch black out there. No announcement. It seems the atmosphere is being built beside our anticipation.

There, a single spotlight.

The cameras find the single skater at the far end of the rink. His back is to us. Black costume with an open back, scattered with glitter that looks a lot like stars. No obvious team colors or indication who that . . . Wait, those tattoos are distinctive. Of course, tattoos are strictly hidden during competitions, but not at the gala.

Oh! I think I know that hair. The audience has seen him on the screens. Listen to that reaction! That is Camden Navarro on the ice. The newly crowned Olympic gold-medal ice dancer is standing alone at the far side of the rink, lit from above by a single spotlight. His head his lowered, arms loose at his sides.

And now the arena plunges into darkness again.

And for those who may not already have realized, the title of this element is becoming significant. Navarro first became an international name at the Meridian Cup, where he competed in the gender open. His partner in that event was the British skater with whom he would later share one of the most discussed partnerships and rivalries in modern ice dance.

Their astonishing program from the Meridian was called The Battle . . .

Surely, they would not⁠—

There, a second spotlight everyone. At the very opposite end of the rink. And there he is, ladies and gentlemen, the unmistakable silhouette of Ren Hasegawa, dressed in crisp glitter-speckled white. A man who makes ice dance look effortless, and who is rumored to be retiring after these games in what is surely a staggering loss to the sport.

My goodness, it seems we’re about to witness the spectacular. And the arena has seen Hasegawa on the screens. And the spectators are on their feet already, and neither dancer has taken a step. Fans have been demanding it, and it seems the Olympic Committee has not been ignoring those cries.

Ren Hasegawa and Camden Navarro on the ice together.

This is the first time these two men have performed together since the Meridian Cup, the first time they’ve shared the ice as partners in almost two years. And perhaps, their final time dancing together on the ice.

They’re not wearing any team insignia, no national flags. This dance is clearly their own.

Both spotlights now. They stand at opposite ends of the ice. They lift their heads, and they both extend open hands, somehow precisely timed even without music. Neither is smiling. Ah, there it is, that’s the familiar beat of “Way Down We Go” by Kaleo, the same music as their Meridian program. A program that many claim would have won that competition outright, had Navarro not succumbed to injury.

Now, let’s settle in for what is surely going to be one of the most memorable moments of these astonishing Winter Olympics in Sapporo.

FORTY-THREE