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Hiroko is worried.
Not so much in the “Oh God we’re going to die!” kind of worry, rather the “Something is very wrong but I can’t put my finger on it” kind of worry.
And it centres on her seven-year-old son, Yuuri.
A week ago, Yuuri had gotten into an accident while at school. A large tree branch had fallen on him while he was eating lunch. He was subsequently rushed to Hasetsu Children’s Hospital, bleeding and unconscious. Thankfully, the doctors found that he only had a minor concussion, and all that was left to do was wait for Yuuri to regain consciousness.
And he did, three days ago.
Yuuri woke up to his family gathered around the bed. There were plenty of tears and wailing to go around, even more so because Yuuri appeared to be in a state of limbo. Conscious, but not quite in the present. His eyes remained half-lidded, and his words were slurred like a drunkard.
The doctor had reassured Hiroko and her husband, Toshiya, that the reason why their son is so out of it was likely due to the painkillers wearing off. Give it some time, he said, and Yuuri will be in tip-top shape like before.
That was four days ago.
Yuuri had been discharged the next day and brought home to Yu-Topia Katsuki to recuperate in more familiar surroundings. In that time, Hiroko became his nurse, tending to his needs and making sure that he was taken care of.
It was then that she noticed that Yuuri’s disoriented state continued to persist.
Whenever he walks around the main building, he appears to be in a trance. He will stare at unseen points for prolonged periods of time, before sauntering off. Sometimes, he will sit and not move an inch for about an hour at a time. Throughout it all, his expression does not change. It is empty, mouth drawn straight and eyes dark, almost haunted.
Not once did Yuuri talk. He responds with nods or shakes of the head. Effectively, he has become a ghost, haunting the halls of Yu-Topia.
Hiroko decided that she could not stay silent any longer. She went to confide with Toshiya about their son. While he was concerned himself, Toshiya tried to stay positive. He told Hiroko that they will continue to monitor Yuuri for a few more days. If his unusual behaviour persisted, they would take him back to the hospital for another check-up.
Two more days passed, and to Hiroko’s relief, Yuuri starts to show signs of improvement. He appears slightly more alert and aware of his surroundings. His movements are less detached and more controlled. And he is not staring off into space as much.
Hiroko ultimately decides that further medical intervention is not needed. Her son is gradually returning to normal. There is nothing to worry about.
That is, until the next day came.
Hiroko is cleaning the banquet hall. They had several guests over, and they had one too many drinks the night before. In whatever drunken hooliganism they had gotten up to, alcohol was spilt, and some food ended up flying. Stains matted the floor, requiring clean-up.
This is completely routine for Hiroko. The banquet hall has seen similar events whenever her husband’s entertainment got a little out of hand with the alcohol flowing like there was no tomorrow. She knows the perfect crème cleanser that does most of the job for her, leaving the rest to lukewarm water and rags to finish up.
Hiroko spends half an hour cleaning the stains, before getting the vacuum cleaner.
Because of the loud whirring noise, she almost does not hear the footsteps rushing towards her.
“Mum!”
Hiroko turns off the vacuum. Yuuri is standing before her, panting lightly.
On the one hand, the sudden alertness in her son’s expression and eyes is a welcome sight. However, there is something about the alertness, the under layers of sheer confusion and manic desperation, the need for answers that far exceeds the typical curiosity, that brings the worry back to Hiroko’s mind.
“What is it, Yuuri?”
Her son stares at her for a moment, one that feels far longer than normal, before asking in a quiet voice, “Mum…w-what day is it?”
“24
th
September, dear.”
“A-And…year?”
Okay, the worry is growing now.
“2000. Why?”
Hiroko sees the exact moment when all colour drains from her son’s face, and the mania that had been hidden under the surface breaks through.
“Yuuri? What’s wrong?”
Complete silence.
“Yuuri? Y-You’re scaring me. Why are you staring at me like that?”
And just like that, the young boy keels backwards, and crumples to the floor.
“Yuuri!”
To Be Continued.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
It was supposed to be a routine trip to the supermarket to get groceries.
Jump into the car, brave the St. Petersburg traffic, enter the supermarket, leave with their groceries, brave the traffic once more, arrive home, make several trips from the car to their apartment carrying all of the bags, bicker over how to properly stock and arrange the fridge, and finally settle back down to do whatever they wanted to do.
Completely routine.
Yet…
Vitya suddenly screams, followed by the screeching of tyres. Something flashes across his eyes, and then, comes the impact. Metal collides and crumples. Glass shatters. He remembers being flung forward, his seatbelt completely failing to do its job. He hits against something, and everything goes black.
For a while.
Slowly, light returns.
It is just a void of white, against a backdrop of darkness. He remembers feeling weightless, as if he is floating. At the same time, his entire body feels like it is made of lead. He could not move, he was completely paralysed.
Then, a blurry figure appeared.
There were no discernible features. Just a blurry silhouette, a shadow.
They stare at him for the longest time, not moving or making a sound. He remembers growing nervous, wondering, who is this figure? Why are they just looking at him, not doing anything? What did they want from him?
Then, they finally speak.
He almost wished they did not.
“This one…not yet…He will live…once more.”
The voice, there is something innately
wrong
with it. It does not sound human, far from it. He would not describe it as demonic, but there was something to be wary about that voice. How it sounded distorted, rough, almost broken in places.
However, he does not have more time to further dwell on it.
Another bright flash of light causes the shadow to disappear. Yuuri then feels gravity take hold. He is falling, like an apple from the tree.
Falling, falling, falling for God knows how long.
He could not scream, he is still paralysed.
The light became brighter, positively blinding. Something akin to wind roars, growing louder by the second to the point that it deafens his ears.
And then…
…he wakes up.
When his eyes open, Yuuri thinks he is in some kind of dream.
His eyelids weigh a tonne, he only has the strength to open them halfway.
From what he can see, everything is out of focus. A blend of inter-mixing colours and shapes. He hears something, but it feels as if someone had stuffed cotton into his ears. The sounds are muffled, almost as if he is underwater. He thinks he hears crying and wailing, and three dark shadows approach him. He feels something gently grip where he suspects his arm, and the crying sounds closer, but no louder.
He tries to speak, but he cannot quite hear his own words. The crying becomes louder, until a fourth shadow comes into view. A short while passes, and the wailing subsides. The fourth shadow lingers around for a while, before disappearing.
A little bit passes, and Yuuri's eyelids become too heavy to remain open. He shuts them, and soon enough, he drifts off into an empty sleep.
When he wakes up again, his eyelids are significantly lighter, and he is able to keep them open longer. However, everything still remains blurry, and his hearing is still muffled. The three shadows are still there, although he is unable to hear anything coherent.
He does not know how much time passed when the fourth shadow returns. The next thing he knows, Yuuri is being guided up, and gently made to sit on something. He is then wheeled somewhere. The guiding hands then bring him into something that he thinks is a vehicle from the muffled sound of an engine. He is driven somewhere, but Yuuri remains mostly clueless and out of it.
After some time, the guiding hands bring him out into the light. He is led into some structure, again indiscernible due to his blurred vision. However, the air is vastly different from before. Yuuri can’t quite put his finger on it, but he feels warm here, safe even. There is a familiarity to his surroundings, as if he has been here before and spent a long time staying here.
The guiding hands bring him somewhere, and help him onto what he feels is a bed. It fuels the familiarity in his senses. The shadows make some incoherent noises, and they disappear for a while.
Yuuri stays completely still, not moving. His instincts tell him to not get up, at least not until the shadows return.
Something wafts up to his nostrils. Something aromatic…mouth-wateringly delicious.
The shadows return, and the aroma is positively strong, and his stomach rumbles.
More incoherent, inaudible sounds, and something is brought to his lips. Instinctually, he opens his mouth and something is placed inside.
His senses explode. It is his mother’s katsudon!
The pork cutlet is breaded just right, fried to perfection. The egg is runny and smooth, and the rice is fragrant, with a subtle crunch of the pork and onions. Yuuri might be exaggerating, but if he is to die right after this, at least he knows that he will die happy.
He eats to completion, and the shadows speak incoherently. They disappear right after, and with his stomach full and satisfied, Yuuri slowly drifts off into a food coma. Sleep comes right after, an easy, quiet experience devoid of dreams.
Yuuri does not know how much time has passed since he entered this familiar place. The days and nights bleed into each other. Through it all, he sees the same shadows approach him, making the same incoherent sounds. They appear to be taking care of him, treating him like he is made of fragile glass.
More delicious food is fed to him, ensuring that he never goes hungry. He gets plenty of rest too, but as time passes, Yuuri becomes a little bored.
So he decides after a while that he wants to explore this place.
His instincts are his guide. If there is an obstacle in his path, he moves around it. When he enters what is presumably a new room, he sits down, and observes his surroundings. Granted, his vision is still blurry and he cannot make head or tail of what is around him, but the change of environment is still a welcome experience.
Once he is satisfied, he gets up and wanders off to another spot.
This goes on for several days, of which he starts to see changes. His vision is getting progressively better. The blurriness is receding and the objects around him are getting sharper. His hearing is also improving, he is able to pick up louder sounds and discern them better. Conversations are clearer, though he still struggles to fully understand them.
However, there is a downside to this.
Come nightfall, he will have strange dreams. Of ice, thin blades skating across said ice, of platinum hair and silver-beige fur. But his dreams also have a darker element to them. He hears someone screaming, tyres screeching against tarmac. He hears metal crumpling and glass shattering.
It is a jumbled mess, with no clear coherence. It leaves him terribly confused come daytime, his mind trying to figure out what those dreams meant.
He gets nowhere.
However, after four days living and roaming in this familiar location, clarity hits him with as much subtlety as a Shinkansen.
It is as if someone had flipped a switch within him.
Yuuri wakes up to morning sunlight bathing over his eyes. Shifting from his receding slumber, he stretches a hand towards his bedside table, and fumbles around, half-consciously looking for something.
When he fails to find whatever his mind is telling him to look for, Yuuri becomes more alert.
‘Where are my glasses?’
He opens his eyes.
A beat of silence.
Yuuri gasps, and bolts upright.
Something…no,
multiple
things are very wrong.
First, why is his vision so clear? He had terrible eyesight, and his glasses were a constant feature. Where did they go? And perhaps more importantly, how is it that he can suddenly see clearly?!
Second, he is in his childhood bedroom in Yu-Topia. But that’s not right. He should be in Viktor’s apartment in St. Petersburg! What is he doing here, back in Hasetsu?!
Panic sets in. He jumps out of bed and rushes out the door. He barrels his way down to the ground floor, in search of someone that could give him answers. He hears a vacuum cleaner running in the banquet hall, so he rushes there immediately.
He sees someone familiar, his mind making the connection.
“Mum!”
She turns around, and Yuuri stops dead in his tracks. She is taller than him, which is completely wrong! He should be taller than her! And she looks so young! What happened to her wrinkles? Or her greying hair?
“What is it, Yuuri?”
It takes a moment for Yuuri’s mind to reboot from the shock. There is only one possible reason for this, but he needs to be sure.
“Mum…w-what day is it?”
“24
th
September, dear.”
“A-And…year?”
His mother looks at him strangely.
“2000. Why?”
2000?!
How is that possible?! Yuuri is sure that he had just gone grocery shopping with his husband as a thirty-seven year old man in 2030!
Does that mean…
…he is now back in his seven-year-old body?
His mind overheats from the bombshell revelation. It immediately performs an emergency shutdown to mitigate the damage.
Darkness quickly overcomes, and Yuuri keels backwards. The last thing he hears before he goes under is his mother screaming his name.
Hiroko is thrown into a panic.
Falling to her son’s side, she screams, “Toshiya! Toshiya! Come quick!”
Footsteps rush towards her.
“Hiroko? What’s wrong - ?”
Toshiya gapes at Yuuri’s unconscious body, before promptly losing his marbles.
“What happened?!”
“I don’t know!” Hiroko cries, “Yuuri just stared at me, and he just fainted!”
“Quick! Let’s get him back to his bed!”
Both parents carry their son back to his bedroom. Toshiya leaves to get the smelling salts in the first-aid box downstairs, while Hiroko stays with Yuuri. Toshiya returns quickly, uncaps the tube, and wafts it under his son’s nostrils. Immediately, Yuuri regains consciousness, scrambling up to avoid the acrid odour of ammonia.
“Yuuri! Are you okay?!” Hiroko cries, gripping her son’s hand tightly.
The sudden rush of blood causes his brain to tighten. Yuuri takes a moment to regain his bearings and force the pain away. Once he feels better, he turns to his parents.
“Dad…?”
“My son! Are you alright? You gave us both such a shock!”
Yuuri looks around. Immediately, he wrenches his hand from his mother’s grip and pinches himself hard.
“Yuuri!”
Wincing from the red welt forming on his arm, Yuuri looks around again. His childhood bedroom remains the same, as does his younger-than-normal parents.
What…is going on?
Hiroko and Toshiya must have sensed his growing confusion.
“Yuuri, please tell us, what’s wrong? What has gotten into you?”
He slowly turns to face them, “Mum…Dad…are you sure this is 2000?”
Toshiya wails, “My poor son! He has gone mad!”
Hiroko tries to calm her husband down, before turning back to Yuuri, “Yes, it is 2000. Why do you ask?”
Here, Yuuri grimaces. How does he explain to his parents that he has somehow time-travelled 30 years into the past? If his father’s reaction is anything to go by, they
will
think he has gone mad. Thoughts of being rushed back to the hospital for a psychiatric evaluation fill his mind, along with darker images of being taken away by the government to be dissected and experimented upon like some animal.
He needs to do something that will distract them, get them to move past the current situation and focus on something else.
“I…had a strange dream,” he tries his best to not stutter, “I-It was so vivid. I thought I was in the future.”
Hiroko and Toshiya turn to one another. Their eyes held silent conversation.
“Yuuri, I think we better take you back to the hospital, just in case,” Hiroko says.
Yuuri nods. From the looks of things, his parents appear to buy his impromptu excuse.
It could have been gone so much worse.
To Be Continued.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
The tests and scans showed no abnormalities. As such, Yuuri is sent home with his parents with a gentle reminder from the doctor to take it easy for a few days.
For Toshiya and Hiroko, this is a huge relief. There is nothing to worry about. Their son has been given a clean bill of health. They can move forward from this whole debacle.
For Yuuri, however, it is only the beginning of a nightmare.
Once he is alone, in the privacy of his bedroom, despite pinching himself earlier, he pinches himself again, multiple times. Wake up, he mutters to himself, over and over. But no matter what he does, after multiple red welts begin forming on his arms and legs, his childhood bedroom remains the same.
He is not back in St. Petersburg.
He is really in his bedroom in Yu-Topia.
Yuuri slumps to the floor, trembling hands covering his mouth. He is beyond confused, terrified out of his mind. He doesn’t understand. What happened? How did this all happen? How did a thirty-seven year old man somehow travel back in time to his seven-year-old self?
And perhaps, more importantly,
why
did it happen?
What could have caused this? What was the reason, the trigger, the catalyst? How did he go from thirty-seven to seven just like that?
And then, it hits, and Yuuri remembers.
The screaming, the screeching of tyres. Metal crumpling and glass shattering. Before abrupt darkness.
Did…
…did he die?
Was he in a car accident?
Wait, he remembers…
(“Yuuri ~ We’re out of food again!”
“And whose fault is that? Didn’t I tell you to go last week?”
“But I want to go shopping with my husband! You were too busy!”
“Fine, you big oaf. Let’s get going. I’ll drive this time. Heaven knows we won’t survive another attempt by you trying to handle the wheel.”)
He remembers them getting into the car, and driving off. They stopped at a traffic light. Theirs turn green, and he steps on the accelerator. Then something races towards them. Viktor screams –
The sounds replay over and over in his mind like a broken record. Loud noises that drown everything else, forcing him to relive the moment where two lives were abruptly cut short by an errant driver who wanted to save a few precious minutes by speeding the red light.
For a good while, all he can hear are Viktor’s screams, and Yuuri slams his hands over his ears in a bid to block out the noise, to no avail. The cries of death burn his eardrums, despite the silence of his room. He curls into himself, trying to block out the hellish noise before his mind shatters from the pure fear and terror.
Finally, after God knows how long, the cries fade.
Yuuri’s hands slump down from his ears, aching from pressing against his head for so long. Tears stream down from his eyes, both from the pain of having to hear such an agonising sound, and for a deeper reason.
Viktor, his precious, beloved Vitya, was dead.
Because he remembers what happened after the collision.
The state of limbo, the shadowy figure who spoke in that unnatural voice.
“This one…not yet…He will live…once more.”
He did not pass on. He was thrown back into the world of the living, sent back thirty years into the past. He was made to live once more, while his Vitya’s soul was dragged off into the great beyond, to whatever fate awaits the souls of the dead.
Yuuri wants to scream, oh how he wants to scream. He wants to condemn whatever deity who resides in the heavens above to the lowest pit of hell. He wants to set the world on fire and cause total destruction. It is bad enough that his husband is dead, but to not let him die with Vitya, and instead be thrown back decades into the past?
Oh no. This is too much! Too many fucking lines have been crossed! This is tantamount to motherfucking
bullshit
!
Time travel is supposed to be a trope used in science fiction! How on earth could something so fake and relegated to people’s imaginations or conspiracy theories end up being real?
He forces himself to breathe.
Okay, so he knows for a fact that time travel is now real. But then, why is he, Katsuki Yuuri, the one who has to experience it? Sure, his life ended way before its time, but if he had to die, at least let him die with husband!
But the universe must have been craving for a cruel joke. And it saw him as the perfect target. He had worked his ass off for years, suffered setback after setback, dealt with crippling anxiety, depression, and a binge eating disorder, had to live through the trauma of his dog dying, all to get the man of his dreams. The universe waited for fourteen years, before deciding to strike.
Yuuri can almost hear the laughter, the cruel glee in seeing him suffer. Everything he worked for has been completely erased. All of his achievements, figure skating, relationships, his Vitya, are now nothing but memories of a life he can no longer experience. He is just seven-year-old Yuuri, completely average with nothing but a passing interest in ballet to his name. No friends, no social life.
Nothing.
The tears surge from his eyes, but he refrains from sobbing. It will only attract attention from his parents, who have the uncanny ability to sense whenever he is in distress. He has only gotten their attention off of him. He cannot afford to have them running to his room, frantic with worry and asking questions that he cannot answer.
Again, the possibilities of either being deemed as insane or shipped off to a government facility to be experimented on are too dark and
real
to ever contend with.
He is clearly spiralling, years of past mental trauma on top of the present trauma of his current situation doing its dirty work on his young mind. No seven-year-old child should ever be forced to endure such inhumanity, but most seven-year-olds are not Yuuri. They did not have to endure dying at a young age, having their entire life wiped away, and forced to start again without their consent.
He needs to get out. The room is too stifling, even with the window open. He needs to flee somewhere, just for a little while. As much as his bedroom holds many pleasant memories in his previous life, all it does now is exacerbate the trauma.
But it will have to wait.
“Yuuri!” his mother calls, “Are you coming down for dinner?”
He has to go down. Otherwise, it will only arouse suspicion.
With a bleeding heart, Yuuri picks himself up, puts on a false mask of calmness, and calls back, “I’m coming!”
Somehow, he makes it through dinner. The katsudon that his mother made certainly helped to soothe his internal pain a little. But it was a herculean feat. His parents are still worried from the scare that morning, and Mari kept giving him side glances throughout the meal. Yuuri did his best to hide his discomfort, and played off any grimaces as just being tired after a hectic day.
Thankfully, his family bought his excuses. Dinner concludes, and everyone retires to their rooms for the night.
Yuuri waits until he is certain that everyone has fallen asleep, before leaving.
He goes to one of the sheds, and wheels out his father’s bicycle. Adjusting the seat height to accommodate his shorter body, he hops on and cycles out of the inn onto the empty street.
Hasetsu, as a whole, is very small. It barely counts as a city, most people are likely to call it a large town instead. As such, in this late hour, there is literally no one around. The streets and pavements are devoid of traffic and people. It is blissfully quiet, and the gentle breeze that blows through echoes in the silence.
Yuuri doesn’t know where he is going, relying purely on his instincts. He leaves Hasetsu behind, the wheels taking him into nature. He pulls up at the beach that faces the Korea Strait. He hears the cries of a few nocturnal seagulls, and suddenly, it hits.
He remembers this place.
Coming down from the bicycle, he gently sets it in place, and crouches next to it.
He looks out into the sand and water, dark and empty.
The memory of his husband settles next to him, petting Makkachin.
(“Yuuri, what do you want me to be to you? A father figure?”
“No.”
“A brother then? A friend?”
“No.”
“Then I’ll be your lover. I’ll do my best - ”
“No! No! No! No! No! I want you to stay the way you are, Viktor!”)
Yuuri struggles to not turn to his right, even though in reality, he is all alone. The memory is so vivid, even more so since he is, unknowingly, in the exact position where he sat with Viktor all those years ago –
No, not years ago. This is 2000, not 2016.
In reality, none of this has happened yet.
Yuuri’s thoughts shift. In 2000, Viktor was on his way to rising in fame at age 11. Within five years, he would have reached stardom, decimating competitions and earning the moniker of “The Living Legend”. In 2000, four-year-old Phichit would be trying on ice skates for the first time. In 2000, Christophe was already training for the juniors division. And Yurio…oh God, in 2000, Yurio had not even been
born
yet!
His family and friends, all gone. Replaced with strangers who have no connection or care to seven-year-old Yuuri.
This time, there is nothing stopping him from screaming.
The quiet air is broken by an anguished, heart-breaking wail. Yuuri rushes out onto the sand, and falls to the water’s edge. His sobs come out in shattered heaves and strangled sounds. He pounds the sand with his small fists, as if it was the source of his agony. Tears and snot pour down his face. It is a truly pitiful sight.
“Do you think this is funny?!” he screams into the night, “Is my existence nothing but a cosmic joke for you to fucking laugh at?!”
Nothing but the crashing waves and seagulls answers back.
He still hears the cruel laughter all the same.
“I was finally happy! I had a family! I married the man I have loved since I was twelve! But you had to fuck me over! You had to kill me and my husband! And then what? Thought that it will be extra fucking funny to bring me back to life and throw me into the past?! Do you get off on my suffering?! HUH?!?!”
The seagulls fly away, spooked by the cracked shout.
Yuuri would have screamed more, but his throat is now hoarse. He pounds the sand more, but even then, the adrenaline drains out of him.
He stops, he is too tired to do anything but sob his shattered heart out.
“Vitya…please…please come back to me…I c-can’t…”
He dissolves into more sobs, and it takes far longer for him to calm down.
Exhausted beyond words, Yuuri slowly picks himself up. He stares wearily at the horizon, and with a defeated slump, he turns around back to the bicycle. He is too tired to cycle, so he trails the bicycle alongside him and makes the slow trek back to Yu-Topia.
By the time he arrives back at the inn, it is already past two in the morning. Despite it being a cool night, Yuuri feels sticky from the sweat and salt of the ocean.
Putting away the bicycle, he creeps back inside, goes to his room and picks out a fresh change of pyjamas. Then, he heads to the baths.
After rinsing himself down, Yuuri heads out to the outdoor bath. Setting down his towel by the edge, he dips himself down into the steaming water. He fully submerged for several seconds, and emerged with a splash and sigh.
He leans against one of the fake rocks, staring up towards the sky. Because Hasetsu is smaller than most cities in Japan, the light pollution is not as intense. He can make out constellations and patterns of stars, twinkling brightly.
The canvas of lights is then broken by a shooting star. It streaks across the sky, before disappearing from sight.
At the back of his mind, Yuuri knows that wishing upon a shooting star is nothing but fairytale nonsense. No amount of wishing will bring his previous life back. All he can do now is be in the present moment, and
think
.
What does he want to do now? Like it or not, he is seven years old again. How does he intend to live this current life that was forced upon him?
Yuuri doesn’t know whether his mere existence in this timeline is going to create a butterfly effect on future events, but in all honesty?
He doesn’t give a fuck.
The universe has already fucked him over by killing him and throwing him back into the past. He will not allow whatever cosmic powers there be to screw him again.
No, he most definitely will not.
In fact…
Yuuri’s eyes narrow, and the water feels like it is heating up.
He may be seven years old, but he remembers everything. 37 years’ worth of memories are preserved in his young head. Every skill, every jump, every language he once spoke. They are all there.
The universe might have thought it would be funny to preserve his memories in a bid to overwhelm him with grief, but it does not.
Not right now, when it is fuelling the rapidly growing fire in his heart.
“Just you fucking wait,” Yuuri growls, sounding absolutely feral. He glares up at the night sky with the might of an erupting volcano, “I will grab you by the throat and make you my fucking bitch. We’ll see who is laughing when I am done with you.”
To Be Continued.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Thankfully, his family did not find out about his escapades from the night before.
They did ask about why he woke up later than usual, but Yuuri had reassured them that he was just really tired last night, and wanted to sleep in for a bit. Plus, it is the weekend, and many children love to sleep in when they can. His family buys his excuses and does not question him further.
After breakfast and chores, Yuuri is left to his own devices.
It is not likely that he will be disturbed until lunchtime, so he has a good few hours.
After some searching, he pulls out a brand new notebook, sits down at his desk, and begins writing.
Plans for the next 16 years
Pick up figure skating again (find ways to earn money for proper ice skates)
Find a coach (see if Takeshi’s father is willing to help)
Continue ballet under Minako-sensei
Survive school
Admittedly, it has been a very long time since he went to school. But since he is currently seven, the curriculum should not be too bad. He will worry about middle and high school when they come.
- Adapt to 2000
This one will require quite a bit of effort. 2000 is a long time ago in his previous life. He will have to get used to flip phones and analogue technology for now. But oh, how Yuuri cannot wait to get his MacBook Air and smartphone back.
When it comes, set up a social media account on all available platforms
Another thing he will have to get used to. If he is not mistaken, social media was still in its infancy in 2000. It will be another four years before the first version of Facebook is launched in Harvard. Twitter will not be around for another six years, and Instagram for another ten years. Oh, and messaging apps. While flip phones can send text messages, they are a far cry from the power of WhatsApp or Line.
Get Vicchan
This one, in particular, hurts. In his previous life, Vicchan was his birthday gift when he turned thirteen. Vicchan was still a puppy then, not even a year old. Aside from Yuuko, Takeshi and Phichit, Vicchan was his best friend in the entire world. His death just before the Sochi Olympics destroyed his heart, leading to his humiliating fuck-up on the ice. It had been a speeding car, he remembers. Vicchan had gotten too excited, and yanked his leash out of Mari’s hand in a bid to chase a butterfly. He ran onto the road, just as the car came barrelling towards him.
While he had gotten over Vicchan’s death in his previous life, primarily thanks to Makkachin, Vitya, and the healing effects of time, he never forgot the day he heard about the accident. Even more so when Makkachin finally passed away from old age. He remembered, the pain was obvious, but it was a more expectant type. Both he and Viktor knew that Makkachin was old and would die at any time. The fact that Makkachin lived to 18 years was a feat in itself, since the average lifespan of a dog is ten years. They did adopt more dogs after they finally found closure with Makkachin’s passing, but one can never truly replace the love of an original pet.
But all of that is now mere memories. In 2000, Vicchan had not even been born yet! Just like Twitter, it will be another six years before he gets to see his best friend again.
Yuuri sighs, it will be hard. But at least there are things he can put his attention on until the time comes.
Back to the list.
Do well enough in the TOEIC and university admissions exams to get into Wayne State Uni
This is important. While he did remember passing the notoriously difficult TOEIC exam the first time around, it was at least a decade before his untimely demise. Even with all of his memories intact, there is no guarantee that he will pass the second time. His English might be proficient, but the problem is that he does not remember the questions. He definitely cannot afford to be complacent, especially since this will be his ticket to the United States.
And Celestino.
Yuuri remembers his first coach. No doubt about it, Celestino
is
a good coach. However, the problem was that he had too many skaters under his care. Celestino could not solely focus on one particular skater, he did not have the time nor attention to
really
analyse a skater’s performance to point out any mistakes or flaws that could cost them points from an under-rotated jump or bad landing.
Viktor had been different. He focused solely on him, critiquing him after every jump and so forth. Even when he moved to Russia after Barcelona, Yakov had continued the trend, since he only had four skaters (excluding him) under his watch. Last he remembered, Celestino had ten skaters under his watch, including himself and Phichit.
Still, Celestino is his best bet, especially when he heads into the senior division. Thankfully, his 37 years’ worth of memories should be able to fill the gaps.
And finally, there is one last item on the list that he also underlined.
Become Viktor’s husband once more
This one…he feels a lot. There are a lot of emotions and memories associated with this one line on a sheet of paper. He
loves
Viktor, his Vitya. Nothing can begin to describe the love they shared for 14 years. The feeling of fuzzy joy waking up to his husband every morning, even more so after a night of passionate lovemaking, the intimacy of physical touch – hugs, cuddling, snuggling, the exhilaration from their exchange of rings – first in Barcelona, and then under wedding bells a year later when he finally won gold at the Nagoya GPF, all of that
defined
his previous life beyond figure skating.
And even though all of that is now nothing more than mere memories, Yuuri is determined to take back what was wrongly stolen from him.
He will go all out and beyond, so that Viktor will notice him in this life. From there, even though the future remains murky, he will work to form that connection, the
bond
that lasted 14 years previously. This time, it will last longer. Decades longer, even when they are old, grey and wrinkly. He will ensure that this future will be better.
There is no other option.
To Be Continued.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
One of the first things Yuuri does the next day is to exercise.
As a figure skater, the importance of stamina cannot be understated. Stamina ensures that one is able to survive the jumps, spins, step sequences and the entire length of the performance. In his previous life, Yuuri had not prioritised his stamina, which led to multiple embarrassing moments both in training and actual performances. It was only when Viktor came into his life that Yuuri took his stamina seriously.
Now, things are different.
In a move that surprised his parents and Mari, he told them that from now on, he will be jogging and cycling to school, alternating every day. This meant waking up at inopportune hours to accommodate getting ready and actually travelling to Hasetsu Elementary.
Obviously, since his stamina at seven years old is absolute shit, the first runs were complete hell. Yuuri would arrive at the gates out of breath, drenched in sweat. Of course, he wasn’t going to enter the school building and his classroom smelling like crusty bodily fluids. Thankfully, Hasetsu Elementary had a swimming pool with showers. Since he was early, he stopped by the showers to rinse himself down and freshen up. Then, he would change into uniform and head to class.
At first, no one in Hasetsu Elementary noticed Yuuri’s early arrivals. But as his routine continued into weeks, the staff and custodians began to see him in the hallways, always heading to the swimming pool showers and heading to his classroom when virtually no other student had even entered the grounds yet.
For the custodians, this is a welcome change, especially when Yuuri stopped by to chat with them if he encountered any one of them. Previously, they had viewed Yuuri as a polite, if incredibly shy boy. He would avoid all verbal interaction unless he had absolutely no choice. To see him appear more open and taking the time to chat with them is a breath of fresh air.
For the teachers, however, they notice a different change that carries an underlying goal.
It starts with homework assignments.
Normally, many teachers don’t pay attention to their students’ handwriting when grading assignments. However, when one student’s handwriting unexpectedly improves, seemingly overnight, teachers are bound to take notice.
Of course, that student is Yuuri.
The surprises don’t stop there.
The teachers start noticing Yuuri’s neat handwriting in other students’ homework assignments. At first, it was just an answer to a question or two. But then, the teachers would see entire assignments filled out with Yuuri’s handwriting.
As any concerned teacher would do, they told Yuuri’s homeroom teacher about the apparent academic dishonesty. That homeroom teacher made a personal trip to Yu-Topia Katsuki to have a frank conversation with Yuuri’s parents.
That being said, Yuuri fully expected the cat to come out of the bag sooner or later. He was prepared for the moment when he returned home from school, and his parents met him at the front door.
“Yuuri, we need to talk,” said Toshiya.
“I know why,” Yuuri replies, which admittedly, takes the wind out of his parents’ sails, “Lead the way.”
They take the conversation into an unused private banquet room.
“Yuuri, why are we hearing from your homeroom teacher that you are doing other students’ homework?” Hiroko asks.
“Are you being bullied?” Toshiya wails, “Is my precious son being forced to work harder because some students are too - ”
“No, Mum, Dad, I’m not being bullied,” Yuuri replies.
“Then?” Hiroko prompts.
“I’m doing this out of my own free will.”
Both parents stare blankly at their son.
“For a fee, of course.”
“Fee?”
“Every question I complete for them, they pay me ¥100.”
“Y-Yuuri!” Toshiya splutters, “How can you ask people to pay you for doing their homework?!”
“I need the money.”
“Money? Is your allowance not enough?” asks Hiroko.
“It’s not enough,” Yuuri replies bluntly.
Toshiya wails, crying about how his precious son had become corrupted. Hiroko presses forward, “Why?”
“The money you give me only comes once a month. If I just rely on that, it will take too long.”
“Too long?” Hiroko asks, and Toshiya immediately stops his wails, “For what? Are you planning to buy something?”
“A pair of ice skates.”
A beat of silence.
“Ice skates?”
“Yes, Mum. A proper pair of ice skates.”
“W-Why do you need them?” asks Toshiya.
Best be blunt about it, Yuuri thinks to himself. He can feel the anxiety from his previous life creeping up. He will not allow it to overwhelm him.
“I’m taking up figure skating.”
…
…
…
“Figure skating?!” Toshiya exclaims.
“Yuuri, I thought you were already taking ballet with Minako-sensei?” Hiroko asks.
“Ballet is important for figure skating, Mum,” Yuuri replies, “I need to be incredibly flexible and light on my feet in order to succeed.”
“But figure skating?!” Toshiya asks, beyond confused, “Where did this even come from?”
“Remember when I used to go to Ice Castle and play around at the rink?” Yuuri asks rhetorically, smoothly guiding the conversation away from the truth, “It was fun. I love the feeling of skating on the ice.”
This is a white lie. Ice skating, by itself, is fun. Figure skating, on the other hand, is a whole other can of worms. Physical training aside, the sport itself is rife with conflict and politics, something he was completely blind to until he met Viktor and the Russian team. When he moved to St. Petersburg with Viktor in his previous life, he very quickly learnt that there was an intense rivalry between Yakov’s rink and the rink in Moscow where Yurio was from. Even though the Moscow rink hadn’t reached the level of fame and recognition that St. Petersburg enjoyed, they were
relentless
in trying to overtake the Living Legend and his merry band of skaters. The Moscow rink also had a bad reputation when it came to their public relations. According to Yurio, bullying, blackmail, backstabbing and all kinds of horrid behaviour was rife. It was the main reason why he left Moscow to train under Yakov, despite his grandfather being left all alone in the capital. And that’s not to mention the atrocious behaviour exhibited by the Moscow skaters when out in public or dealing with the press. Yuuri only had to experience one encounter with the
Moskovichs
in his previous life to write them all off as degenerates who sullied the sport he loves. Additionally, there were the many doping scandals that involved a number of skaters from Moscow. Thankfully, Viktor himself abhorred doping and refused any attempts by the Russian government to artificially enhance his performances.
And then there were the fans.
Oh god, the
lengths
people would go to in regards to their idol.
Yuuri is no stranger to the extremes fans went to in their opinions. He knew that there was plenty of discourse when the news broke about Viktor becoming his coach in his previous life. All manner of comments and rantings about how some no-name skater had stolen the Living Legend for himself. But because he wasn’t active on social media then, it didn’t impact him that much. But after the infamous Kiss™ , his engagement to Viktor and their subsequent wedding, there was no ignoring the barrage of comments, positive and negative, regarding their relationship. And when he moved to St. Petersburg, there was that incident when a gang of young men attempted to assault Yuuri in what he believed was a homophobic attack. Thankfully, Yurio was with him at the time, and easily dispatched the group with his skates, fists and teeth.
Still, It was a stark reminder of how extreme people took their beliefs and loyalties when it came to their idols.
But back to the present.
Yuuri never forgot his love for the ice, even with all the memories and baggage that came with it. The ice is one of his top priorities. If he can’t take back his previous life, the best he can do is put the pieces back into place in this current life, with the ice one of the inalienable parts that forms the basis of his entire existence.
“But if you love skating on ice,” Hiroko retorts, “why don’t you just rent the skates at Ice Castle? It’s definitely cheaper.”
“Those are not proper skates, Mum,” Yuuri rebuts, “Do you know how big and clunky they are? I will not be able to perform spins or jumps properly with my feet trapped in those cinderblocks. I need skates that are lightweight and easy to move in.”
“B-But son!” Toshiya cries, “This is so out of the blue! Do you even know what you’re doing or going with this?”
“Yes,” Yuuri replies firmly, a darkness in his eyes that leaves his parents greatly unsettled, “One way or another, with or without your support, I
will
get myself a pair of proper ice skates. I will show
everyone
just how serious I am when I say I will be taking up figure skating.”
The air suddenly becomes thick with tension, and both Hiroko and Toshiya both have the instinctual urge to flee and hide from the monster that has apparently taken over their son.
There were some further negotiations once things had calmed down, but eventually, both Yuuri and his parents came up with a compromise.
Yuuri would stop doing other people’s homework for money, and both Hiroko and Toshiya will cover the remaining cost.
As Hasetsu didn’t have a dedicated shop that sells competitive ice skates, Hiroko and Toshiya mail-ordered a pair through the Nishigoris. They, especially Takeshi, were surprised to hear that Yuuri wanted to take up figure skating, but they went with the order anyway and told the Katsukis that the skates will arrive in a week’s time.
In the meantime, Yuuri continued his ballet lessons with Minako.
“Yuuri, what’s this am I hearing that you’re planning to take up figure skating?” she asks during the break.
“It’s something I’ve been planning on doing for a while,” Yuuri replies simply.
“Where did this come from, Yuuri?” Minako asks, half in jest and the other seriously, “As far as I remember, you wanted to become a ballet dancer before.”
That was true. In his previous life and now, Yuuri’s initial dream was to become a
danseur
like Minako. But he was young both times, too young to make an informed decision about what he wanted to do with his life. He chose ballet just because, and because Minako had been a close family friend for many years. In his previous life, it was the fateful event of watching Viktor skate when he was twelve that pushed his life towards figure skating. Now, it is his efforts to reclaim the life that was stolen from him that is pulling him away from ballet somehow.
“Minako-sensei, let me be clear, I
do
enjoy our lessons together,” Yuuri says, before glancing to the side and muttering, “even if you are a real slave-driver.” Minako lightly slaps him over the head for his cheek, “But in all seriousness, I chose ballet on a whim. I didn’t give the decision much thought. I just went with it, without any consideration for the future or where my true desires lie.” Here, he mixes lie and truth together, “And then, when that tree branch fell on me and put me in a coma, I realised that life is too short to be just living it based on whims. I remembered how much I loved the feeling of skating on ice, and I decided, after I regained consciousness, that I want to further my love for the ice.” Now, the sweetener, “Learning ballet with you has helped me in so many ways, and I don’t intend to stop having lessons with you. I will need the flexibility and lightness to succeed in figure skating. I hope you will continue to support me in my pursuits, as you have done so thus far.”
Minako is rendered speechless for several long moments. Suddenly, she snorts, and throws an arm across Yuuri’s shoulders.
“You little brat, of course I will support you,” she says, and Yuuri’s shoulder unconsciously relax, “While I am a
little
disappointed that you won’t be continuing on my legacy and become an internationally-acclaimed
danseur
, who am I to stop you from pursuing what you love? Ice Castle is just as a home for you as my ballet studio.”
“Thanks, Minako-sensei.”
Minako glances to the side, “Lilia is going to kill me when she finds out though…”
That almost brings out a chuckle from Yuuri. Those were the exact words Minako said when he told her about his decision to pick up figure skating in his previous life. The only difference now was that the timeline had been sped up by five years. Yuuri also remembered meeting Lilia himself and having to endure her laments about how a promising
danseur
had been stolen and corrupted by the ice.
Briefly, in both his previous life and now, Yuuri wondered how differently his life would have turned out if he had just stuck to ballet and not figure skating. Of course, he would never have met Viktor, nor Yurio, Chris, Phichit and Celestino. Would he have found someone else who will love him unconditionally? Another guy, or girl perhaps? His orientation batted for both teams, so there were many possibilities.
But that is neither here nor there. Yuuri has made his decision, and he is going to stick to it.
He just needs to wait for his skates to come in.
As promised, a package arrives at Yu-Topia a week later.
A pair of white ice skates from Wilson.
As it is the weekend, Ice Castle would be occupied by visitors, not the best environment for Yuuri to show just how serious he intends to be with pursuing figure skating. Thankfully, his parents were able to arrange with Nishigori-san to book the last hour of the rink before closing time.
The entire family makes their way down to Ice Castle just before eight in the evening. The Nishigoris, Takeshi and his father , meet them at the entrance. Yuuko is by Takeshi’s side, clearly excited from the way she is bouncing on heels.
“Yuuri-kun! You can’t imagine how happy I am to hear that you’re taking up figure skating seriously!”
“I certainly will do my best, Yuuko-chan,” Yuuri replies.
“Why? Got some secret moves up your sleeve, Katsuki?” Takeshi asks.
Yuuri’s eyes had a mysterious glint to them, “Oh, don’t you know it.”
Takeshi did not know how to respond to that.
The rink is empty, the ice smoothened over. Yuuri breaks away from the group to go and stretch. As he warms up, Yuuri can’t help but keep glancing at the sparkling white surface of the ice. This is it, the first time stepping onto a rink since coming into this existence. He has waited for this, with almost unbearable excitement.
Of course, he wouldn’t be Katsuki Yuuri if there is no anxiety in the mix.
He may have 37 years’ worth of memories in his head, but there is a clear difference from memories and reality. Up until now, he has yet to step on the ice. Plus, this is a brand new pair of ice skates. It takes time for the skates to be broken in and getting used to wearing them on the ice.
Realistically, Yuuri knows that it is very possible for him to make mistakes. But if he wants to prove to everyone watching him tonight that figure skating is his path in life, he needs to put on a
mind-blowing
show that will leave no room for any arguments.
He doesn’t want to put too much pressure on himself, but at the same time, he can’t be complacent.
As Yuuri finishes up his stretching, Minako rushes into the rink.
“I’m so sorry for being late! I had to close up the snack bar. Has Yuuri started yet?”
“You’re just on time, Okukawa-sensei,” Takeshi’s father, a stocky man in his late forties who went by the name Akira, “Yuuri-kun is just about done with his warm-ups.”
With his stretching completed, Yuuri sits down to put on his new skates. They fit just right, the optimal tight snug that ensures his feet are properly covered. The last thing he wants is his skates to go flying off his feet because they are too big, or cutting off blood circulation because they are too small.
Yuuri gets up, steadying himself with the rink wall. Once he is stable, he takes his first step.
He does not stumble. Good, his muscle memory still works on land.
He heads to the rink door. Now this was the real test.
Yuuri steps onto the ice, places his other foot on the edge, and pushes off.
A moment of exhilaration, the precipice between success and humiliating failure, before the outcome is decided.
Yuuri maintains his balance, and does a perfect ‘eight’ in the middle of the rink. He releases the breath he had been holding in, a small, satisfied grin on his lips. He turns towards Yuuko,
“I’m ready!”
Yuuko flashes a hopeful thumbs-up.
Silence falls upon the rink, and Yuuri releases another breath.
The male soprano sings, and he is off.
The song that plays – In Regards to Love: Agape – talks about pure, unconditional love. The first time Yuuri heard that song was in his previous life, when Yurio stormed his way into Hasetsu, demanding that Yuuri’s yet-to-be husband choreograph a routine for him. Viktor had assigned Agape to the temperamental blonde, as its counterpart, Eros, is too sultry and would probably have counted as child pornography if Yurio had skated to it then. But what Yuuri didn’t know at that time was that Agape had been composed many years prior, back in 1999.
Yuuri will admit it, Agape is the perfect song to use in his first ever performance in his new life. Pure, unconditional love, that is one way to describe his love to his family and friends. It is also one of the different facets of his love towards his husband. Agape encompassed his daily existence with Vitya – moments shared in the apartment, at the rink, out on the streets of St. Petersburg. But just as how beautiful Agape can be, it is also consumed with melancholic despair. Dying in that car crash, forcibly separated from Vitya and made to relive his life all over again in a world where Vitya doesn’t even know that he exists.
He knows the lyrics. Life is temporary, so the heart desires eternal love to soothe the pain of eventual demise. He yearns for Vitya, and he will do
everything
to regain this love they once shared. He will sweat, toil, go through hell and back. He will face the impassable mountains, monstrous beings that life confronts him with, just to hear his Vitya’s voice from behind the doors.
This is his secret, the true reason why he stepped onto the ice once more. He might not be able to tell anyone else, but Yuuri hopes his performance will convey his emotions in a way that words are not able to.
After the opening sequence, the first jump is up.
In the original choreography, Yurio did a triple axel. However, Yuuri knows that his body is not suited for triples just yet, specifically due to the lack of strength in his legs. Plus, it will immediately arouse suspicion from Yuuko and Takeshi if he suddenly pulled triples out of nowhere.
He settles for a single.
Yuuri turns backwards on his take-off foot. He jumps, and spins a rotation, tucking his free foot in. He lands on his free foot, and while it is a little wobbly, he doesn’t fall, which is good enough in his books.
He vaguely hears a gasp from his audience, but he doesn’t let it distract him.
The following step sequence has a series of spins. This is his forte, primarily because of how long he spent perfecting them on the ice in his past life. The first one is a flying sit spin. Yuuri stretches out his free leg, does a small leap into the air, and lands, lowering down into the spin. His abdominals burn from the crunched position, which reminds Yuuri that he needs to work on his core strength down the line.
He rises, bringing in his free leg into a brief upright spin. Continuing on with the step sequence, the next spin is a camel spin. However, Yuuri changes it into a full Biellmann spin, showing off his flexibility to the audience. He lowers his free foot down to execute a layback spin, before continuing on.
The step sequence ends with the second jump. Yurio does a quad salchow-triple toe combination. Yuuri lowers the difficulty down to a single salchow-single toe combination instead.
In his previous life, salchows had been his weakest jump. He could never get the take-off and landing right. It was only when Yurio came to Hasetsu and actually taught him the proper mechanics did he finally land a perfect quad salchow. With the memory fused into his mind, this easier combination should be doable.
And he does it. The execution is good, although he has to force himself to not instinctively go into quads and triples. He is not thirty-seven, only nine. But the urge was strong, so much so that he lost focus momentarily and nearly stumbled.
Thankfully, it was just a blip. He is in control once more, just in time for the rising crescendo.
The pipe organs and vocals rise towards the heavens. Yuuri’s step sequences become more spirited, keeping in time with the song. There is only one more jump remaining. Originally a quad toe loop, he brings it down to a single, just like before. At the right moment, he picks a foot into the ice softly to provide the optimal pivot for the jump. He takes off, spins a rotation, and lands with only a slight wobble.
From there, it is just free-spirited choreography and steps. Yuuri throws his hands out, almost like the wings of a dove that is taking off into the air. His spins and glides become an animated rhythm, the soprano vocals reaching a fever pitch. He is no longer just merely skating on ice, he is
dancing
, completely one with the music. Graceful, beautiful, ethereal. Ballet joins ice skating, creating a figure that leaves everyone else breathless.
As the music begins to wind down, there is just one more spin left. Yuuri gracefully lowers himself into a deep sit spin, bringing his hands into his chest, almost as if in prayer. He rises, does a roundhouse jump, and lowers himself into a second sit spin. He rises once more, and on the last note, he brings his cusped hands up towards the heavens, as if offering his prayer to the great above.
All is silent in the rink.
To Be Continued.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Yuuri is panting. He is exhausted, coming down from the emotional high as his entire body aches. It feels as if he had done a hours-long workout at the gym without a single break, which after tonight, he would definitely need to partake in regularly.
At least the month or so of running and cycling has built up his stamina somewhat. He knows, for sure, that he wouldn’t have been able to finish that entire performance if he hadn’t started on his stamina (which is still shit, for the record).
But his stamina can wait for another time. For now, he just wants to bask in the glow of an almost flawless performance, the sheer relief and joy that he had not lost his feel for the ice, and that even as a seven-year-old child, he still had his skills, and they paid off despite this being his first time doing things seriously.
But all that comes to a screeching halt when someone screams.
Yuuri is snapped out of his post-performance haze, as Yuuko completely loses it.
“YUURI!!! THAT WAS AMAZING!” she screams, smacking her hands repeatedly on the rink wall, “THAT WAS SO FUCKING COOL! WHERE THE FUCK DID YOU LEARN HOW TO SKATE LIKE THAT?!”
Yuuri almost chuckles at that, remembering the time Yuuko also lost it when he performed a flawless copy of Vitya’s
Stammi Vicino
program after he came home from Sochi in his previous life.
However, there is no time for chuckles.
Everyone else had also been left stupefied by his performance.
Takeshi is the next to break, “W-What the fuck? How in the fucking world - ?”
Finally, a responsible adult breaks out of their stupor to notice the curses flying around.
“Language! There’s a fucking seven-year-old child here!” Minako scolds.
Or maybe not.
Yuuri decides some damage control is needed. His parents are still frozen, as are Mari and Nishigori-san. Yuuko is still screaming, Takeshi is now cowering under the wrath of Minako-sensei (who hasn’t stopped dropping f-bombs despite the context of her scolding).
He skates over, “How did I do?”
Nishigori-san finally snaps out of it, “Kid, w-where did you learn to skate like that?”
Yuuri shrugs, “I learnt online.”
Which was an absolute lie, but he wasn’t going to reveal that he was sent back in time with thirty-five years’ worth of memories.
If anything, Yuuri’s lie makes the man (and the others, by extension) even more flabbergasted, and he could see the first signs of genuine
fear
blossom on Nishigori-san’s face.
“Online?! Yuuri! That was really, really dangerous! You could have been seriously hurt!”
Yuuri merely shrugs again, “It all worked out in the end, didn’t it?”
In hindsight, acting so flippant about his safety on the ice and pulling off a
competition
-worthy performance was probably not good for anyone’s blood pressure and anxiety. Yuuri could literally see the fear erupting in Nishigori-san’s face.
“Alright, that’s it. That’s fucking it!” he declares, ignoring Minako-sensei’s yell of “Language!”, “You’re with me now. You need someone to monitor you and properly train you so that you don’t fall and split your head open or something! I can’t believe you just fucking - !”
“Language!”
“ – skated like that with absolutely
no proper training whatsoever
! Do you even have a fucking sense of self-preservation or common sense, kid?!”
“I give up,” Minako-sensei throws her hands into the air with resigned exasperation.
“Do I?” Yuuri tilts his head as if in thought. It would have been cute, had it not been for the situation at hand, “No, I don’t think so.”
Nishigori-san screams, burying his face into his hands.
But if Yuuri’s reading of the man’s body language has not yet failed him, there is also pride and excitement coursing through Nishigori-san. And he feels heartened by that. His first performance on the ice, and he already has a supporter.
Or…
supporters
, if Yuuko’s excited ramblings are any indication.
And then, he remembers that his family is present.
All three had not uttered a single word since the chaos broke out.
“Mum? Dad? Mari?”
Finally, someone speaks.
“Yuuri…”
“This is how serious I am, Mum,” Yuuri says, “I’m willing to risk injury to show you that this is the path I want to take in life.”
With Nishigori-san still screaming, Takeshi and Yuuko losing their respective shits, and Minako already giving up the fight, Hiroko could only nod dumbly, while her husband and daughter remained stuck in stupor.
Training with Nishigori-san is definitely a shift away from Minako-sensei, Yuuri thinks.
For sure, he is no Celestino, but for a coach that trains a junior figure-skater such as himself, Yuuri would say, wholeheartedly, that Nishigori-san certainly knows what he is doing. But just like with Minako-sensei, Nishigori-san is a hard slave driver. Every fall, failed landing, under or over-rotation is bluntly pointed out, and Yuuri is made to re-do each jump and spin until Nishigori-san is satisfied.
As such, Yuuri often had to be picked up by his parents at the end of each training session, exhausted out of his mind and body aching like nobody’s business. But every ache and feeling like he is on the verge of dying is a positive sign. He is making progress, taking each step forward towards the end goal.
Additionally, being under the tutelage of an actual coach means that he can be supervised under a trained eye. Yuuri shudders to think about coaching himself had he not been snagged by Nishigori-san’s radar. Yuuri might know his body best, but he cannot pick out the little faults that could suddenly escalate into a career-ending injury before his career could even begin. Trying to go at things alone is only
asking
to have his dreams ruined, and God forbid, should that happen, there is no third or fourth chance.
So even though Nishigori-san is a hard slave driver, Yuuri is eternally appreciative of his coach. His body might be in agony, but it is a far better agony than being with an injury and the shattered remains of a dream. And besides, he can sleep off the aches and emerge more-or-less fresh the next morning.
For sure, the cycle of training and aches will be arduous, but for the sake of reuniting with his Vitya, Yuuri thinks it will all be worth it in the end. Now though, it is all about building up his body’s strength, flexibility and agility, and qualifying for his first competition.
Either way, Yuuri is ready to shatter the course of fate, and rewrite history on his own terms.
To Be Continued.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Yuuri thinks to himself, this is it. He is about to take his first step into his professional career. The 2003 Chugoku, Shikoku and Kyushu Regional Juniors Championship is upon him. He has trained relentlessly for 3 years for this, enduring back-breaking, soul-sucking hardship under Nishigori-san and Minako-sensei, the former who is still not over the fact about how flippant Yuuri was when he pulled off that impromptu performance three years ago. (He will never regret that, even if it was a bit of a gamble.) Despite Nishigori-san working relentlessly to wring all of that flippant nonchalance out of Yuuri, it seems to have paid off. Yuuri is now ready to dive into his first proper competition, and he is determined to make his mark as Japan’s rising star. The championship is to be held in Fukuoka city this year, which means getting up at the most unholy of hours in the morning to make the drive from Hatsetsu, which was slightly delayed because Yuuri had to convince his wailing father to let go of him (“It is your first-ever competition,” his mother reasoned, “Give your father some slack.”) Yuuri slept through most of the journey there, only waking up when Nishigori-san parked the van in the parking lot of Papio Ice Arena. Yawning loudly, Yuuri follows his coach into the rink to register and prepare for the competition. In his past life, Yuuri remembers that Japanese regional figure skating competitions have never really been that popular. It was only when he started to make a name for himself on his home turf, that seats began to fill up. Once again, the familiar sight of most seats sitting empty greets him when he and Nishigori-san enter the rink. One day though, he thinks to himself, his mere presence will ensure that every rink he goes to will be filled to capacity. (Of course, he needs to give credit where credit is due. Viktor too will have a part to play in ensuring that every rink sells out, but this time around, Katsuki Yuuri will also have a dominant part in the equation.) Once he has registered, Yuuri waits until the ballot commences to determine who skates first. Aside from him, there are three other skaters who are competing today. When the ballot is made, Yuuri draws a ‘4’, meaning that he will go last. After that, the time comes for warm-ups. Nishigori-san helps with his stretches, making sure that he is in tip-top shape to perform. Once warm-ups come to an end, Yuuri goes to a bench with his coach, sitting down to watch the other three skaters perform their short programmes. In all honesty, there is nothing really special about the three who go before him. The first one makes a couple of mistakes during his jumps, the second falls twice during his performance, and the third skater feels extremely stiff, having none of the fluidity and grace that is expected of a figure skater. For sure, Yuuri thinks, the third skater has no problem with the technical aspects, but his stiffness makes it feel quite awkward and a little painful to watch. (Kinda reminds him of a certain stoic Korean skater whose loud costume choices unsubtly clashes with his emotionless performances on the ice.) Then, once the third skater has finished his performance, it is time for Yuuri to go. “You got this, Yuuri,” Nishigori-san squeezes his shoulder, “Show them what you’ve got.” Yuuri nods, slipping off his jacket. One month ago, Nishigori-san had sent out an order for his costumes to be made. As he will be skating to Agape for his short programmes, Yuuri had requested a costume design inspired from what Yurio wore in his previous life. The costume is completely snow-white, with a high collar and diamonds fanning out across the upper chest. The sleeves are loose and billowy, and around the waist is a short, flowy skirt that caps around skin-tight pants. There is meaning within his costume. Yuuri chose it because he wants to match with Agape’s theme of pure, innocent love. White symbolises purity and innocence, the looseness of the sleeves and skirt representing freedom, and the sparkling of the diamonds adding beauty to the symbolism of love. (And also because he is only 10 years old. Yuuri doesn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea if he didn’t stick to the concept of purity and innocence at such a young age.) With a final nod to his coach, Yuuri steps onto the ice, and skates to the middle of the rink, as his name is announced with the name of the song that he will be performing. Yuuri inhales, and exhales slowly. The church organ plays, and he is off. Because ISU regulations in 2003 forbid skaters to perform to songs with vocals in them, Yuuri had to adapt to performing to Agape without the male soprano singing. Admittedly, it did take a bit of a learning curve to perform to a completely instrumental version of Agape, especially since the vocals provided cues on when to execute his jumps and spins, but Yuuri is confident (and isn’t that a terrifying thought) that after months of training, he has it nailed to a tee. The first jump is a double axel. After months of training both on the ice and in the air through a simulation sling, Yuuri has ingrained the technical aspects into his muscle memory. He counts down, and kicks off. Subconsciously, Yuuri reminds himself to combine both technical and aesthetic into his jumps. He does both rotations, but makes sure to look beautiful while doing so. It is a balancing act between nailing the jump and showing off to the judges, because too much of either could prove disastrous. Too technical, and points will be taken off for looking like a robot. Too much on showing off, and Yuuri risks fucking up the jump and either landing horribly, or falling onto the ice, which will also result in points being lost. Thankfully, Yuuri lands perfectly, and he thinks that he showed off enough aesthetic to earn some points from the judges. He pays no attention to the sparse applause and the remarks from the commentators, and continues with his performance. Next up is the step sequence and the second jump. The former is no trouble for him, so Yuuri lets his mind temporarily take a back seat as he lets muscle memory take over. Then as the second jump - double salchow-single toe combination - approaches, he brings his mental focus back to the front. He times himself, and kicks off into a double rotation, followed by a single. Even after years of training, salchows continue to remain his weakest jump. While he doesn’t stumble or fall, the landing is not exactly the smoothest, although Yuuri hopes that by immediately jumping into his single toe loop, he managed to cover his slightly off-kilter landing with his toe loop. Never mind, don’t lose focus, he tells himself. Continue on. With the rise of the pipe organs, Yuuri’s second step sequence rises in tandem. He becomes more spirited, more free , letting his sleeves billow out with each spin. As he prepares for his third and final jump, Yuuri knows that this is the make-or-break moment, his chance to stand out from the competition. While he does not expect to perfectly nail the jump, as this is the first time he will be executing it in a competitive scene, Yuuri will do his damndest to give it his all. So when the moment comes, Yuuri braces himself, and takes off into a triple toe loop. He does the three rotations, lands… …and stumbles a little. Yuuri immediately stabilises himself. He does not berate himself for not landing a perfect jump. Instead, he puts his efforts into finishing his performance on a good note. The final step sequence blurs the line between figure skating and ballet. Yuuri dances on the ice, bringing forth every ounce of grace, poise and beauty that he has cultivated from his years of training under Minako-sensei. At one point in his past life, he was a sexy, sensual femme fatale who seduced his Viktor into his heart. Now, he is a graceful virgin who dances for love and sings to the heavens above to answer his prayers. And that is what Yuuri does. On the final note, he lifts his cusped hands into the air, offering his prayer up to the sky, beseeching the heavens to hear him, a lonely mortal who desires love. Yuuri is panting hard, his breaths coming out as clouds of mist. Then, applause snaps him back into the present. Immediately, he knows that something has shifted. For the first three performances, hardly anyone applauded for the three skaters. The fact that the applause for him is louder than all three combined is a telling sign that despite his blips, Yuuri succeeded in what he had set out to do - to pull off a stellar first performance. Riding a wave of emotional high, Yuuri skates back to Nishigori-san, who immediately thumps him on the back with a proud smile. They head over to the kiss-and-cry, and await Yuuri’s score. After several nail-biting moments, the numbers flash on the screen. KATSUKI YUURI - 65.78 Yuuri feels his heart blossom with joyous warmth, as his name takes first place on the screen. Nishigori-san thumps him on the back a second time, giving him a proud, beaming smile. Of course, he knows that it is far from the end. The battle has only been half-fought, and come the day after tomorrow, the real test will begin. But for now, Yuuri basks in the glow of his first triumph, and hugs Nishigori-san, a silent thank-you for helping him to reach this significant milestone.
To Be Continued.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Yuuri spent the next day splitting the daylight hours between training and sightseeing around Fukuoka city. Although Yuuri has visited the city before in his previous life, as far as Nishigori-san was concerned, Yuuri had never travelled outside of Hasetsu before, so the coach decided that as a reward for performing so well in his short skate and diligently training, Yuuri should tour Fukuoka city to relax before his free skate the next day. Honestly, it was a trip down memory lane for Yuuri. In his previous life, Yuuri came to Fukuoka city just after he returned from Barcelona in 2016 for a series of nationwide ice shows to commemorate his silver medal win. He and Viktor had toured the city, visiting its famous landmarks such as the Fukuoka Tower, Fukuoka Castle, Hakozaki Shrine, and the Hankyu Department Store in the rebuilt Hakata Station. Yuuri then performed at the Marine Messe convention centre to sell-out crowds who cheered and celebrated his win. In 2003, Hakata Station had yet to be demolished and rebuilt, but many landmarks remain the same. Nishigori-san took Yuuri up to the observation deck in Fukuoka Tower, toured Fukuoka Castle together, and even stopped at Hakozaki Shrine to pray to the gods for a good free skate performance. Time flew, and before Yuuri knew it, the free skate was upon him. Just like with the short skate two days prior, Yuuri is going last, giving him the chance to watch his competition before his turn on the ice. Right away, it is evident that things have changed. Yuuri observes that the first three skaters seem to have understood that more is now at stake. Following Yuuri’s stellar performance in the short skate, there is no longer any room for lacklustre and mediocracy. While the skaters’ inexperience still shows in the form of stumbles and falls, there is a consistent, concerted effort to pull off a show of aesthetic flair to their performances. Even the third skater, the one whom Yuuri previously noted as being too stiff and awkward, is pushing himself to loosen up and put in more fluidity to his performance. In the end, Yuuri’s name is pushed down to last, as the three skaters earn comparatively better scores than their short skate tallies. It should have been so easy for Yuuri’s infamous nerves and anxiety to make a glorious comeback. And in truth, he has been feeling the telltale rumble at the back of his mind, the onset of slight uneasiness that precedes a full-blown anxiety attack, ever since the short skate two days prior. As he slips off his jacket and hands it to Nishigori-san, Yuuri steps onto the ice, determined to rise back up to the top and clinch his rightful place as the best. Unlike the pure white of his short skate costume, Yuuri’s free skate costume is a polar opposite. Completely midnight blue from top to bottom, the costume has gold accents that ripple out like waves across the torso, and pooling along the wrists and ankles. A half-skirt is attached to the waist by a belt, with the fabric infused with tiny crystals that sparkle under the lights. Once again, there is symbolism in Yuuri’s free skate costume. The midnight blue colour is a reference to the ocean in the middle of the night, and the sparkling diamonds in the half-skirt represent the waves and currents of water shimmering under the moonlight. Another reference to movement of waves are the gold accents, which also carry a hidden meaning that only Yuuri is privy to. The gold represents Viktor’s status as the Living Legend. And how he, Yuuri, not only aspires to reach the same level of greatness as his husband, but to also reclaim what was wrongfully taken away from him. This hidden meaning is also subtly referenced in Yuuri’s choice of song for his free skate. Once more, he has to skate to an instrumental version of the song. However, as he spent countless hours skating to this particular song, both with vocals and in instrumental format, the lyrics have implanted themselves into his head, so he knows when to move, when to begin the performance that symbolises his hopes for this new life he is now living.
Look at this stuff, isn't it neat?
Wouldn't you think my collection's complete?
Wouldn't you think I'm the girl, the girl who has everything?
Maybe not so much in terms of gold medals and unending fame, Yuuri thinks to himself as he skates the first step sequence, but more so in that he has knowledge that many would give their souls for.
Look at this trove, treasures untold
How many wonders can one cavern hold?
Looking around here you think
"Sure, she's got everything"
Knowing what will happen in the next few decades, knowing what he must do for the path ahead, one way of looking at Yuuri’s circumstances is that he is blessed, unbelievably lucky to be able to live his life once more and to actually make it better than last time.
I've got gadgets and gizmos a-plenty
I've got whozits and whatzits galore
You want thingamabobs? I've got twenty!
It’s true. With all of his knowledge, Yuuri could simply coast his way through life, because he knows what will happen. He can be prepared, he can get what he wants. He could easily become the next Viktor Nikiforov, and become synonymous with gold medals and everlasting fame. However, Yuuri knows that he is not blessed.
But who cares? No big deal, I want more
He may have the knowledge, but all of that is nothing, because Viktor is not by his side.
I wanna be where the people are
I wanna see, wanna see them dancin'
The first jump is coming. Yuuri prepares himself.
Walking around on those - what do you call 'em? Oh - feet!
On that last note, he kicks off. A double axel jump, spinning two revolutions in the air, and landing with the blade striking the ice. Yuuri remains steady, skating backwards on the full outside edge with one leg raised in the air. Applause echoes around him, as the music continues.
Flippin' your fins, you don't get too far
Legs are required for jumping, dancing
Yuuri proves that point with a series of spins. Lowering down into a sit spin, he rises up and smoothly transitions into a Biellmann, raising his leg up into a perfect 180-degree full split, a nod to his countless hours of gruelling ballet training under the unforgiving eye of Minako-sensei. Then, with the second jump approaching, Yuuri braces himself again. Strolling along down a - what's that word again? Street This time, he goes for a double combo - a double lutz - double toe loop jump. Because of the almost instantaneous leap into the second half, Yuuri falters a little, and his landing is not as smooth as the first jump. Still, he does not fall, and Yuuri quickly corrects himself by sliding into a 3-turn step movement.
Up where they walk, up where they run
Up where they stay all day in the sun
Through it all, Yuuri does not forget the purpose of his performance.
Wanderin' free - wish I could be
Part of that world
As he takes off into a flying camel spin, Yuuri extends his hand outward, as if trying to reach up to the metaphorical higher plane where Viktor is, already rising to the top, adorned in gold and wearing fame as his cloak of splendour. Then, as the music begins to pick up, Yuuri transitions into his choreographic sequence.
What would I give if I could live out of these waters?
What would I pay to spend a day warm on the sand?
Choreography has always been Yuuri’s favourite part about figure skating. When he struggled with expressing himself in his past life, he made up for it in his movements on the ice. This time around, he expresses his yearning to have his husband back once more. To feel Viktor’s warmth and love through little acts of affection, grand displays of romance and steamy, lustful moments of consummation in the bed. If there is anything he could give to have it all back in an instant, Yuuri will name any price.
Betcha on land they understand
Bet they don't reprimand their daughters
Yuuri is reminded, time and time again, how unfair this entire situation was. Yes, he has a chance to do it better, but he had already gotten everything he dreamed for in his past life. There was no need for this second life. No need for him to do it all again. He could have been happy, growing old with Viktor and spending their happily ever after together until death came and guided them to their next lives. Except, there is no happily ever after. This was not a Disney movie. There was no happy ending, because Yuuri’s happy ending has not yet happened.
Bright young women sick of swimmin'
Ready to stand
But, as Yuuri declares, he will not take it sitting down. He is standing up, and moving forward. He will get it back, do it all again, to get his happy ending once more.
And ready to know what the people know
Ask 'em my questions and get some answers
Unlike in his past life, when his skate programmes typically stuck to only three jumps, Yuuri changes things up a bit by increasing his jumps to four. The third jump in his free skate, a double salchow, is coming up next.
What's a fire and why does it - what's the word?
Yuuri takes off from the inner edge of his right foot, spins two rotations -
Burn?
- and lands on the outer edge of his left foot. Inwardly, Yuuri cheers. He has executed a perfect salchow!
When's it my turn?
Wouldn't I love, love to explore that shore up above?
The final leg of the song is upon him. One more jump to go. It will be the hardest, but the one that if he succeeds, will guarantee his win.
Out of the sea
Moving in sync with the build-up of music, Yuuri braces himself for the last time.
Wish I could be
Yuuri takes off from the toepick of his left skate, forcing his body to spin three rotations in the air, and lands -
Part of that world
Perhaps it is the adrenaline, him riding the high of the climax, or maybe it is simply nothing at all. Whatever it is, Yuuri lands perfectly, finishing his first-ever triple flip jump in his current life. Everything slows down, akin with the music. On the final note, Yuuri comes to a stop, breathing hard and cheeks flushed. A moment of silence, before the applause breaks out. With his breathing coming back down to normal, the realisation hits Yuuri. He had done it. He finished his first-ever free skate programme. Yuuri turns to where Nishigori-sensei is standing. The man is beaming, mouth spread wide in a bright smile. He is clapping along with the rest of the spectators. With his own smile forming, Yuuri skates over to his coach. “Nishigori-sensei, did I do well?” “You did marvellously, Yuuri.” the man hugs him, “I’m so proud of you.” Now his heart is bursting with warmth, and Yuuri hugs his coach back tightly. “Come, let’s get your score.” They quickly head over to the kiss-and-cry. It takes several tense moments for the judges to finalise his score, and it flashes on the screen.
“Katsuki Yuuri has received a score of 70.86. He has a total score of 136.64. He is now in first place.”
Yuuri sees his name take the top of the scoreboard, surpassing his nearest rival by a good ten points. Immediately, he is swallowed into another suffocating hug by his coach, as applause echoes across the rink once more. It takes a second for it to hit, and once it does, tears begin falling from Yuuri’s eyes. His first victory. He has done it. Really, there is a part of Yuuri who still can’t believe it. Everything he has been working for in the past three years has paid off. All of the sweat, blood, aches and tears had been worth it. The physical proof is truly in the gold, as the medal is presented to him atop the podium. It may not be the same as a gold medal won during a Grand Prix competition, but this is an important milestone nonetheless. With this win, Yuuri has taken his first step on the path to reclaiming the life that was stolen from him. But most importantly, although he has yet to realise this right now, he has taken the first step to making history. Or rather, remaking history.
To Be Continued.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Another three years pass, and before anyone knows it, it is 2006.
In that time, the first version of Facebook was launched in Harvard, and Twitter had gone live. In Hasetsu, more of the city’s onsens had closed down. Yu-Topia Katsuki is only one of five still remaining open for business, although others are starting to show signs of financial and operational struggle.
As for Yuuri, he has come a long way.
The three years had laid witness to the now-teenager dominating the regional figure skating scene. Every single competition saw Yuuri standing on the top of the podium, a gold medal hanging in pride of place around his neck. During the 2005 - 06 season, Yuuri took it to the next level by participating in his first national competition, the Japan Championships, in the novice category.
Travelling to Tokyo for the first time (in this current life), Yuuri faced considerably stiffer competition.
Unlike in the western prefectures, the capital city is host to many professional skating clubs. With more funding from the JSF, these figure skaters had access to better coaches and training facilities, putting them at a considerable advantage.
Additionally, many of these junior skaters did not take a good view of this perceived upstart from some no-name city in far-flung Saga prefecture. Evidently, they heard about Yuuri’s accomplishments in the regional competitions, and were far from impressed.
Of course, take it from the people who came from a place of privilege to look down on those whom they perceive as nothing more than country bumpkins that are trying to fit into
their
society.
Yuuri never let the whispered sneers and contemptuous looks bother him (at least, externally). Having faced far more frightening circumstances in his previous life, the snobbish upturn of the noses from a bunch of wannabes (and Yuuri
knows
that these Tokyo skaters are nothing but wannabes. After all, who was it that qualified for the Sochi Olympics, had Viktor Nikiforov as a coach and later boyfriend, and then won silver at the Barcelona GPF? Certainly none of them) meant little in comparison.
Plus, Yuuri conclusively proved his superiority over them by winning his category and adding his first national gold to his repertoire, establishing himself as the best novice figure skater in the entire country.
His gold medal win cemented his ticket to the international stage.
The JSF took notice of Yuuri’s ascension, and had him registered as an official junior figure skater. This made him eligible to participate in ISU-sanctioned international events, like the junior Grand Prix.
Unfortunately, there is a slight snag.
ISU regulations decreed that skaters who turned 13 years old as of 1 July 2006 are eligible to participate in the junior GPF. As Yuuri’s 13th birthday falls in late November, he is unable to register for this year’s round.
Everyone expressed their disappointment and sympathy, especially after his success in the Japan Championships the year before. And while Yuuri expected this (to be fair, he was still a little disappointed), he had other more important things to focus on.
In particular, Vicchan.
In his past life, 29 November 2006 marked the day when Yuuri’s toy poodle came into his life as a birthday present. His parents had gotten Vicchan because in that life, they had known about Yuuri’s admiration towards Viktor. And since Viktor had a poodle, the Yuuri of that life had begged Hiroko and Toshiya to get a poodle for his birthday too. Since poodles of Makkachin’s size were known to be very expensive, they had gotten a toy poodle instead, since the breed is smaller and therefore cheaper.
Plus, at that time, Hiroko and Toshiya didn’t think Yuuri was ready to take care of such a big dog. Vicchan, as they thought, was much easier to handle, take care of, and train for a young boy just entering adolescence.
However, in this life, neither of his parents are aware of the changes that had happened to Yuuri ever since he woke up from that coma six years prior. Since none of them knew about his love for Viktor, the thought of getting a toy poodle for Yuuri’s birthday never once crossed their minds.
Yuuri, though, was aware of this.
And he took matters in his own hands.
Or, rather, someone else took matters into his own hands…
…paws, maybe?
Yuuri did not expect this.
He will tell anyone who asked him, upfront, that he really
did not
expect this.
Yuuri was walking home from training at Ice Castle. Normally, he would be cycling home, but someone crashed into his bike at school earlier that day. Since it was completely totaled, a new one had to be bought, and according to the delivery company, it will take at least three days for it to arrive in Hasetsu.
So Yuuri is stuck with walking, since he wants to maintain his stamina for future competitions.
As he is crossing the bridge that overlooks the Sea of Japan (East Sea), he hears something following him.
Not a person, but something on four legs padding after him.
He turns back, looking down…
…and sees Vicchan staring up at him.
…
…
What?
Yuuri blinks, rubbing his eyes. He pinches himself, and realises that he is not dreaming.
His Vicchan is sitting down before him, tail wagging, tongue out as he pants in excitement.
“V-Vicchan?”
The toy poodle boofs, and his tail wags a little harder.
Yuuri stumbles towards the dog, falling to his knees. Vicchan trots up to him, boofs again, and licks Yuuri’s nose.
Unable to stop himself, Yuuri grabs the poodle and hugs him tightly to his chest. Vicchan continues to give Yuuri happy little licks, boofing cutely.
He can’t help it. The tears simply start falling on their accord.
But can you blame Yuuri? This is the first time he has held his Vicchan in 29 years. His first ever friend, taken away from him while he was halfway across the world, is now back in his arms.
Cut him some slack, yeah?
“Vicchan…I missed you. I missed you so much.”
“Boof!”
Yuuri breaks down into weeps, squeezing Vicchan for all that is worth. He does not get up for a very long time, as Hasetsu continues on with life around him. No one pays him any mind, as if those passing by know, subconsciously, that this is a poignant moment that is not to be disturbed.
This time, Yuuri knows, he will not make the same mistakes from before. He will do everything to prevent history from repeating itself, and perhaps, this time around, Makkachin will have a new sibling to bond with.
To Be Continued.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
The moment has come. It is now 2007, and Yuuri will be participating in his first-ever Grand Prix circuit. In the year that passed, he trained like nobody’s business. Once school ends, it is straight to Ice Castle where Nishigori-sensei waits to begin drilling him through the surface of the rink. Despite the intensity of the exertion and the resulting crippling exhaustion, Yuuri never once complained. He took it all like a fish to water, to the point that his parents became quite worried that he was running himself ragged, judging from how knackered he always appeared upon returning back home. Each time, though, Yuuri answered with a frightening intensity that never wavered, his eyes blazing and lips set in a tight, determined line. “I have come too far. I can no longer stop.” And stop he did not. Before the announcement of the Grand Prix assignments, Yuuri once again took part in the regional tournament and dominated the competition. Before he had even set foot on the ice, he overheard all manner of gossip and chatter already proclaiming him as the winner. (When you consider that he has been standing on the top of the podium for the past four years straight, it is hard not to see why.) If anything, the tournament is nothing but additional training for Yuuri. While the Grand Prix circuit is several levels higher than the Chu-Shu-Kyushu tournament, he will take whatever chance to perfect and hone his programmes in time for this year’s run. He might be the best novice figure skater in Japan, but the Grand Prix will be the true test of his skill and capabilities. As much as he has the attention of his fellow citizens, in the eyes of the world and the global figure skating community, he is still a nobody. Heck, Yuuri’s name only comes up in search engines as a junior skater under the JSF, a single entry compared to the thousands that already bear Viktor’s name. In essence, Yuuri is a mere half a drop in the vast ocean that is currently being dominated by his future husband. If Yuuri is going to send a tsunami through the status quo, he will need to move the very earth on the international stage. And if it means training himself into an early grave, he will do just that . Come the middle of 2007, the assignments are announced. Yuuri has been allocated to take part in the Vienna Cup in Austria and the Pokal der Blauen Schwerter in Germany. Interestingly, he notes, a certain Christophe Giacometti has also been assigned to the Vienna Cup. Yuuri thinks back to his relationship with the sex-appeal-incarnate Swiss skater in his previous life. He first met Chris when he was fifteen, during the qualifying competition held in Budapest during the 2009 - 10 season. Yuuri never could beat Chris during their time in Juniors, but they never let their rivalry on the ice affect their close friendship outside of the rink. Heck, it was Chris who introduced him to pole-dancing as an additional means to train his body alongside ballet and the rink. (And, of course, Yuuri remembers their infamous show on the stripper pole during the banquet of the Sochi Olympics, courtesy of the hundreds of photos taken by Viktor.) Admittedly, a small part of Yuuri wonders how different things will be. By participating in the 2007 - 08 season, he is moving the timeline forward by two years. And he knows the saying that the flapping of a butterfly’s wings in the Amazon will unleash a hurricane over the Atlantic. Just how different things will be from his previous life, only the heavens know. Still, Yuuri thinks, how much of the ensuing change will come from his own volition? There are just so many possibilities here. In his past life, it was Chris who wormed his way into Yuuri’s bubble in ways that only extroverted people are capable of. In this life, with a full head of memories spanning 37 years, Yuuri is not the same teenager as before. If he wanted to, he could be just as extroverted as Chris and, dare he say, Viktor. However, it is one thing to say “fuck it” and steamroll his way into a new path of fate, and another thing altogether to change the course so much that reality itself breaks and becomes something entirely unrecognisable. … He’s probably seen too many sci-fi and fantasy movies, courtesy of Viktor, as usual. But that’s besides the point! The current dilemma presented before Yuuri is how much he wants to change things as he heads into his next milestone. For sure, he wants to rekindle the friendship he once had with Chris, but how far does he want to venture into the unknown, tearing down everything that could happen and build it back up into something different? … … Yuuri decides, this is for his future self to think about. Right now, he has a Vienna Cup to prepare for. Christophe is curious. Actually, scratch that. He is more than curious. Whoever this Yuuri Katsuki is, he has certainly gotten Christophe’s attention. With the Grand Prix assignments out, Christophe had gone online to check out where he has been assigned to, and who he will be competing against. Viktor won’t be competing with him this time, Christophe is reminded. Viktor has already moved onto the seniors division, living Christophe all alone in juniors, competing in both the Vienna Cup and Croatia Cup. Christophe recognises familiar names whom he competed against in previous runs being assigned to the Vienna Cup, but none that were particularly noteworthy or remarkable. Except for Yuuri Katsuki. Out of all of the skaters participating in the Vienna Cup, Yuuri Katsuki is the only outlier. A figure skater from Japan, whom Christophe has never heard of or met before. Colour him curious. His next Google search is on Yuuri himself. To no surprise, there is hardly anything about the Japanese figure skater online, other than his profile as a junior skater under the Japanese Skating Federation. As far as anyone would be concerned, they would have written this poor soul off as nothing more than a try-hard wannabe who will fizzle out once he got a taste of the real world that is competitive figure skating. Christophe, however, is not just anyone. He clicks on Yuuri’s profile, which, while originally in Japanese, immediately switches into French courtesy of Google Translate. While the Japanese-to-French translation is…not the best , Christophe is able to decipher the badly structured information to pick up some surprising details about Yuuri. So far, all of Yuuri’s achievements seem to stem from both national and regional competitions. According to the profile, Yuuri won the gold in the novice category of the Japan Championships in 2005, and has been the reigning champion of the Chugoku-Shikoku-Kyushu Regional Championships (what a mouthful) since 2003. It is actually Yuuri’s total score in the 2003 regional championships that caught Christophe’s attention.
136.64
… … Merde …is this for real? Christophe spends a long time staring at that number. That is higher than his own score when he first started out as a novice skater! By at least 20 whole points! And checking the rest of Yuuri’s scores over the subsequent competitions yielded similar numbers, showing a consistent performance over the years, and not a one-time-lucky fluke. Mon dieu , Christophe runs a hand through his hair as he leans back against his chair, if Yuuri shows up at the Vienna Cup with this level of skill and power… Merde , no one will stand a chance. Hell, Christophe is not sure if even he stands a chance against him! But, instead of growing worried and freaking out, Christophe feels… …invigorated. In truth, ever since he found his style and established himself as the closest rival to Viktor, figure skating has…lost its shine, somewhat? That is not to say that Christophe has grown to dislike, or God forbid, hate the sport that now runs through his veins. It’s just that, ever since he began his rise in pursuit of Viktor, going for competitions have become a little…dull, for lack of a better term. While the thrill of hoping to dethrone what some in the popular press have began to dub as the “Living Legend” remains as strong as ever, competitions in recent times always seem to focus around Christophe’s endless pursuit to topple Viktor, and the “Living Legend”’s uninterrupted ascension to stardom and godhood. Everything else seems to just fade into the background, becoming white noise that nobody pays attention to, as everyone watches the (admittedly one-sided) rivalry between Switzerland and Russia play out on the ice. But this, this unknown figure skater from Japan who outperformed Christophe at the same starting point, and has consistently shown to his country that he is a rising force that only foolish mortals would dare challenge, will soon be making his international debut in just a few months. And good heavens, nobody is talking about it! Nobody even cares ! Is Christophe literally the only person, out of over 6.7 billion people on this Earth, who has an inkling of what is going to happen? The only one who knows that the tectonic plates have shifted, and a tsunami is racing towards them with the promise of obliterating the status quo? Is nobody seeing how everything they once knew will be washed away forever? At this, Christophe can’t stop the loud, if slightly crazed laugh that escapes his throat. Merde , they are all fucked sideways six ways to Sunday. And Christophe can’t wait to witness the fallout once the wave hits. One thing’s for sure though, Yuuri Katsuki will be riding that wave like the revolutionary he rightfully is! Yuuri really needs to get going. At the rate things are, he is going to miss his flight if he does not leave now . Unfortunately, his parents and family friends don’t appear to get the memo. His mother is hugging him like he is about to set off on a long pilgrimage and won’t return for years. His father is bawling his eyes out, completely incomprehensible as he tries to force out words that are tragically lost to the overwhelming emotion flooding out of him. Mari is just standing by the doorway, holding Vicchan up in her arms. Yuuko and Takeshi are present too, impatiently waiting for their turn to smother Yuuri with farewell hugs and threats to perform his absolute best in Vienna. “Mum, please,” Yuuri pats her back, “I really need to get going. Otherwise, I won’t reach the airport on time.” Finally, Hiroko pulls away, “I know. I just…I just need this, Yuuri. You know how much this is for all of us.” “M-My son!” Toshiya wails, snot and tears flying everywhere, “He is a-about to go off on his first international c-competition! He is leaving the nest, and so young too!” Bless his father for being overdramatic as always, Yuuri thinks. He goes over to the bawling man, and hugs him while patting his back, “I’ll come back, Dad. Just wait for me.” This, thankfully, puts a stop to the waterworks. Once his father lets go of him, Yuuri goes over to Mari and Vicchan. He bends down to meet his pooch eye-to-eye, “Be good, okay? Don’t give too much trouble to anyone.” “Boof!” Yuuri gets a lick on the nose for his troubles. He straightens up, “Take care of mum and dad, Mari.” “Yeah, yeah, get out there and kick everyone’s butt,” his older sister drawls. He then goes over to let Yuuko and Takeshi get their fair share of hugs in. Once they let him go, Yuuri rejoins Nishigori-sensei at the gate, and waves to everyone, “We’re off now!” A chorus of farewells and shouts of encouragement (plus a series of boofs) echo back. Yuuri and his coach board the waiting minibus that will take them to the station. From there, it is an hour and a half train ride to Fukuoka city airport. After which, a two-hour domestic flight to Tokyo-Narita International Airport, and then a 14-hour flight halfway across the world to Vienna. In order to reach Vienna on time, the JSF had planned for Yuuri and his coach to arrive in the Austrian capital on the night of 12 September, which will give Yuuri a chance to shake off the jetlag and prepare for the start of the Vienna Cup on the 13th. That meant that Yuuri and Nishigori-sensei had to leave Hasetsu at the unholiest of hours in the morning, just after 4am, in order to catch their domestic flight to Tokyo. Yuuri does not sleep during the ride to the station. It is a short journey, after all. They arrive at the station with no trouble. Nishigori-sensei goes to collect their tickets, and when the train arrives, they are whisked off to Fukuoka city. During the one and a half hours it takes to reach Fukuoka, Yuuri closes his eyes and tries to sleep. It apparently worked, because his coach shakes him awake just as the train is approaching the city outskirts. Upon arrival, they change over to the subway line that connects with Fukuoka airport. Still a little drowsy, Yuuri zones out during the 25-minute ride, forcing himself to become a little more alert once they arrive at the terminal. He lets Nishigori-sensei handle the check-in of their luggages and collection of their tickets. Once they clear security, they go to grab some breakfast while they wait for the boarding gate to open. Yuuri manages to wake himself up a little with the cup of tea he ordered along with a small bento. Once he and Nishigori-san have finished eating, they head over to their gate, which had just opened, allowing the passengers to board the plane. As they are flying domestic, there is nothing special about the Japan Airlines plane. And besides, it’s going to be a short flight anyways. With Nishigori-sensei putting their carry-on bags up in the overhead compartment, Yuuri settles down into his seat by the window, buckles his seatbelt, and leans back into the seat, closing his eyes in a resumed bid to get some sleep. The exhaustion that had been held back by the caffeine from his tea earlier returns with a vengeance. Before anyone knows it, Yuuri is fast asleep, as the safety demonstration is presented, and the plane leaves Fukuoka, thundering down the runway and taking off into the sky, rising in tandem with the morning sun.
To Be Continued.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Vienna is beautiful. Truly beautiful. While this is not the first time he has visited the Austrian capital (if one counted his European honeymoon with Viktor after they got married in his previous life), the city of music always steals his breath away, no matter which life he is living. It feels like he is entering a completely different world. Even though Vienna is just as modern as Tokyo and, dare he say, Hasetsu, the city itself appears frozen within the European Baroque era. Of course, Vienna does have contemporary buildings and high-risers elsewhere, but the city that most foreign visitors encounter is a colour photograph of centuries past. If he was a tourist, Yuuri would be out and about snapping as many photos as he can with his phone (not an iPhone yet, though). But he is not a tourist. He is a professional athlete, and right now, there is no time for sightseeing. Once Yuuri and Nishigori-sensei check into the hotel which has been designated to house the skaters of the junior division, it is straight to the bed for the exhausted and jetlagged Yuuri (he had forgotten how often he got jetlagged from flying all over the world for international competitions). He is knocked out for the rest of the night, only to be woken up rather rudely by his alarm clock blaring its unholy racket at 7am local time. Still half-asleep, he meets Nishigori-san for breakfast, and it is straight off to the rink thereafter. Incidentally, the Vienna Cup is to be held in one of the city’s more contemporary landmarks. The Wiener Stadthalle is an indoor arena and convention centre that has a competition-level ice rink, which is used for both hockey and figure skating (Yuuri is briefly reminded of Viktor’s thinly-veiled contempt for hockey players, considering them the “inferior” ice sport. Viktor’s words, not Yuuri). (That probably explains why Viktor dislikes JJ so much, beyond his less-than-stellar personality, Yuuri thinks. After all, wasn’t JJ’s older brother a professional hockey player?) Anyways. Once they arrive, Yuuri is immediately hit by the sight of literally thousands of people gathering outside the Stadthalle. There are cameras flashing, reporters broadcasting live to news stations, and fans milling around in excitement, many holding large cards screaming their support for their favourite skater. All around, Yuuri hears the German language everywhere he looks, and it makes him realise just how far away he is from everything he loves. (In this life, at least. Yuuri had travelled abroad far too many times in his past life to really think about that little fact.) Even so, the fact that the only source of Japanese comes from his coach is still a little disconcerting. Yuuri makes a small note to himself to step up his self-study on global languages once he has the time. (Though, to be fair, not even reliving his entire life all over again will make him lose the ability to converse in Russian. But he will need to brush up on his French, though, if he wants to reconnect with Chris more easily.) (Hmm…maybe Thai too, when he goes to Detroit and meets Phichit again?) And speaking of Chris… Yuuri looks around the rink, trying to spot the Swiss skater among the hundreds already present. The problem is that there are many people here who are blond, and Yuuri is unable to pick out Chris, even among the skaters. He shrugs, he’ll see Chris later when the lots are drawn. Then maybe, after the short skate, he will get a chance to talk to him. Christophe is on a look-out. As soon as he and his coach arrive at Wiener Stadthalle for the Vienna Cup (cutting it a little bit close, but details!), Christophe is sweeping his gaze around the rink for an East Asian skater, the one that has taken up permanent residence in his mind for the past few months. It should be an easy task, given how Japanese people look different from Europeans, Chris would think. Somehow, though, it proves to be much harder than that. Perhaps it was the fact that he arrived later than everyone else. The rink is completely filled to capacity, and even in the area where the skaters are congregating, Christophe does not immediately see Yuuri Katsuki standing among them. To be fair, several of the other skaters had dark hair, and the only visual reference Christophe has to go by is Yuuri’s profile photograph. And while Christophe is not above going around checking the other skaters out until he finds Yuuri, he doesn’t get the chance to, anyways. The lots are being drawn now. Christophe draws his lot, noting that his card has a ‘5’ printed on it. There are a total of 10 skaters performing in the Vienna Cup, which means that he will be halfway through the lot. Absently, he wonders what number Yuuri had drawn. A ‘7’. He will be the seventh skater to perform among the ten present today. In truth, Yuuri doesn’t care much about when he will take to the ice and perform. (Perhaps, in his past life, it would have mattered, no thanks to his crippling anxiety that still threatens to break out of the cage that he had built around it with materials gathered from years of experience and time spent with Viktor.) But that’s beside the point. The point is, he will be performing after Chris. Using the famed and trademarked Japanese ability to remain inconspicuous, Yuuri had spied the Swiss skater draw a ‘5’. Nodding to himself, Yuuri slipped back into the shadows and returned to his coach. Next is warm-ups, so Yuuri gets to stretching his body and limbs, with some help from Nishigori-sensei to really get into the right form for performing. Yuuri can’t blame the man for being more than a little jittery. In Nishigori-sensei’s eyes, this is Yuuri’s first-ever international competition. There is so much at stake here. Years of training, blood, sweat and tears have gone into this moment. This is make-or-break for Yuuri, at least in the coach’s perspective. If Yuuri fucks up, all of that effort will go down the toilet. (Yuuri will make sure that his coach does not go the same way that Yakov’s hair went.) Once warm-ups come to an end, and Yuuri’s body is as fluid as a river, he sits down next to Nishigori-sensei, as the first skater takes to the ice. Yuuri is sorely tempted to just tune everything out until it is Chris’ turn. However, he forces himself to watch the competition. Just because he, theoretically, has more experience than every single skater performing today, he is not an arrogant prick who thinks himself as the best in the entire world. (Viktor. Viktor is the one.) Plus, analysing the competition gives Yuuri the chance to pick out where his rivals’ weaknesses are, and twist this knowledge into an advantage for himself. The years spent coaching younger skaters once he and Viktor retired in his past life has sharpened Yuuri’s eyes to the minute details in a skater’s body posture and language, as well as the tiniest tics that reveal telltale clues about how good a skater is with their spins and jumps. The first skater, performing in front of his home crowd, appears incredibly confident, bordering on arrogant. Yuuri is briefly reminded of JJ with this skater, although he doesn’t have the loud, flamboyant personality that the Canadian was renowned for. The Austrian skater is performing to a classical piece from some composer that Yuuri is unfamiliar with, which is both on-brand and a bit tacky, if Yuuri wants to be honest. His first jump, a double salchow, is accomplished well enough, if a little weak on the take-off. The step sequence is energised in time with the music, Yuuri will give the skater that. However, it becomes greatly apparent that the good start is making the skater complacent. The take-off of the second jump, a double loop, is sloppier than the first, which has the natural effect of making the landing shaky. Yuuri barely suppresses the wince when the skater nearly falls, but manages to keep himself upright. From there, it is a steady roll downhill as the skater tries to apply damage control, but it is too late. Yuuri is unable to stop the wince when the third jump, a double axel, fails entirely and the skater hits the ice with a painful thud. ‘That pretty much bombs it,’ Yuuri thinks. And the score reflects that. The skater gets a 60.71 for his short skate, and he trudges sullenly off the ice, far from the smiling, confident home favourite that he started as. Yuuri would feel sorry for the skater, but once his confidence crossed the line into arrogance and complacency, Yuuri had drained his capacity for sympathy at once. It is fine to be confident, but becoming arrogant just increases the impact when the fall takes place. Plus, the Austrian skater is no Viktor. Viktor has the confidence and the skills to back it up. That is why Viktor is the Living Legend, a prodigy that only comes once a century. Viktor is everything a figure skater should be. Hell, they might as well replace the definition of a figure skater in dictionaries with Viktor’s photograph, and the point will still be understood. Yuuri can’t help but wonder how many more of the skaters performing today would go the same way as the poor soul who bombed his short skate. Not Chris, though. If there is anything Yuuri is certain about, Chris will deliver a performance that will blow the competition away. (Of course, how much that will be in comparison to when Yuuri performs remains to be seen.) For the first time, Christophe is giddy with anticipation. Although this performance will be no different, Christophe is determined to go the extra mile. It is because of Yuuri that things are no longer dull. There is an additional reason to pull out all of the stops. He will not just be leaving the audience thirsty for more, he will also leave Yuuri so parched that despite the cold chill of the rink’s temperature, the Japanese skater will think that he is in the middle of the Sahara desert with an oasis just out of reach. As he is called onto the ice, Christophe slips off his Swiss team jacket and steps onto the rink. As applause echoes around him, Christophe hopes, wherever Yuuri is, that he will be watching. He is going to get a delicious treat, just for him. Really, Yuuri thinks, Chris has not changed, even in this current life. Yuuri recognises that shimmering costume that is just a hair-breadth’s away from being a bodysuit that would not look out of place in a nightclub with a stripper pole in pride of place. The overhead lights make the material spread out in all colours of the rainbow, and it makes Chris’ green eyes sparkle and pop out even more. The familiar music of ‘Intoxicated’ plays across the speakers, and Yuuri knows, right then and there, that everyone is in for a treat. In his previous life, Yuuri knows the theme of Chris’ short skate represents the slippery feel of water cascading down the human body, as if the skater performing it is in the shower. In watching Chris perform this right now, the theme still holds strong, as does the Swiss skater’s sex appeal. Granted, since Chris is only sixteen in this timeline, that sex appeal has yet to mature into the one that Yuuri is familiar with. But no doubt about it, Chris will eventually emerge as the sex god on ice that he is infamous for in the previous timeline. For now though, Yuuri simply sits back and relishes in the breath of fresh air that is Christophe Giacometti, and snickers at just how entranced and, dare he say, thirsty the spectators are now becoming. He can’t blame them though. Despite still being a teenager, Chris has nailed what it means to be sensual and sexy on the ice. The Swiss skater is unashamed to use his assets (heh, ass ets) to really drive up the heaviness and raunchiness of his performance. His picturesque body, deliciously sculpted with muscles and curves in all of the right places, is a temple where the feeble mortals worship the creation presented before them. Many would give up their very souls for a chance to touch, savour and taste the mouth-watering feast on the ice. (If he wasn’t already permanently in love with Viktor, Yuuri thinks that Chris would be an appropriate substitute.) Of course, no Giacometti performance is complete without Chris laying himself bare on the ice, climaxing the end for all to see. Some of a more conservative, old-fashioned leaning might see this as obscene and vulgar, even more so because this is a 16-year-old teenager. But this is Chris’ brand, this is who he is as a figure skater and a person. And there will always be haters, especially when it seems that their comfortable world is being threatened. Yuuri is very much aware of that, which is why he supports Chris no matter what, even his over-the-top, sexualised performances. And it seems the audience is on the same wavelength. The applause is deafening, far louder than for the preceding four skaters combined . Just as the old adage goes, sex always sells. Coming down from his performance climax into a shimmering, breathy afterglow, Christophe gets to his feet and waves to the cheering crowds. While he had not been able to spot Yuuri during his performance, Christophe knew for sure that he had to have been watching. Christophe had upped the ante, after all, gone further than he had gone before. He practically milked his sex appeal for all it was worth, with the aim of leaving Yuuri’s throat as parched as the Sahara in its longest drought in history. If Yuuri is not salivating after all of that, Christophe will throw his skates into the nearest bin and become a cow herder in the Alps. He goes to meet his coach, and together, they head to the kiss-and-cry to receive his score. After the judges deliberate, the numbers are released. “Christophe Giacometti has been awarded 80.47 points. He is now in first place.” He feels his coach thump him on the back. A stellar score for a stellar performance. One that, while not enough to surpass Viktor’s world record, is still a new personal best for him. Now it remains to be seen whether the Japanese skater can live up to his legacy on the international stage. With all honesty, Christophe hopes so. After Chris steps off the ice and receives his score, Yuuri slips into a meditative state. This is a technique taught to him by Phichit after Yuuri retired and was about to begin his coaching career along with Viktor. Knowing how crippling Yuuri’s anxiety can be, meditation was brought up as a way to help Yuuri let go of the anxiety clogging up his mind and body. Centring on the present moment and focusing on nothing but deep, even breaths, Yuuri was able, with practice, to silence the howls of his anxiety, calming down his entire being and regaining the ability to think cognitively. Right now, the tried-and-tested method is serving him well once again. He becomes so removed from what is happening around him, Yuuri completely misses the sixth skater’s performance. He only comes back to conscious awareness when that skater’s score is announced, putting him in second place behind Chris. Alright, this is it. Yuuri gets up, and slips off his team jacket. Handing it and his skate guards over to Nishigori-sensei, Yuuri steps towards the ice, and glides off, as his name is announced to the entire rink. Show time. Christophe has to admit, Yuuri’s costume is really beautiful. The loose, billowy sleeves; the snow-white colour scheme, and the short but flowy skirt - the entire costume feels like a symbol of purity and innocence. If anything, Yuuri looks like an angel who descended from heaven. A complete contrast to the tempting devil that Christophe had been earlier. It feels as if Yuuri is stepping onto the ice to purify everything once more. To bring down the charged energy to a calm, soothing hum. Perhaps this is what the audience needs, Christophe thinks. He watches Yuuri skate to the middle of the rink, assuming position. Then, the church organ begins playing, and right away, Christophe knows that this is going to be a beautiful performance. Yuuri looks like a dancer on the ice, not a figure skater. The way the Japanese skater moves is so fluid, so graceful and smooth. Christophe will admit it upfront, Yuuri would put many professional danseurs to shame if he stood next to them. Christophe also wonders if Yuuri had ballet training at any point in his life, this level of flexibility and fluidity would only be possible if someone had been taught by a professional ballerina or danseur ever since they were young. Then, on the ice, Yuuri makes his first jump - a double axel. Christophe watches him take off, does two rotations, and lands with a flawless finish. He can’t help it. Christophe joins in the smattering of resulting applause. Evidently, it is such an unusual move that his coach turns to him, “Chris, what’s going on? You never clapped for another skater other than Nikiforov before.” “Yuuri is different,” Christophe replies, never taking his eyes off the Japanese skater, “He is going to change everything we know.” It is so cryptic that the poor coach is left quite stumped. Back on the rink, Yuuri has transitioned into his step sequence. Again, it is evident to Christophe that the Japanese skater must have had some form of professional ballet training. Even with his feet making complicated manoeuvres and steps on the ice, Yuuri does so with the same fluidity and smoothness that his body moved previously. ‘This must be Yuuri’s specialty,’ Chris thinks to himself, ‘I have never seen a skater other than Viktor who is more confident with their step sequence before.’ That confidence also adds to Yuuri’s beauty. He is no longer skating on the ice, he is literally dancing on it. The flow of his sleeves and the spin of the skirt feel almost ethereal, like a shimmer of sparkles that gently fall upon the ice. Even if Christophe wanted to look away (which he doesn’t), he simply cannot. Yuuri does not even look human anymore. Christ, maybe he really is an angel from heaven. Then, the second jump comes up - a triple salchow-double toe loop combo. It speaks volumes of Yuuri’s stamina that he does not falter in between two very demanding jumps. Christophe applauds again, which earns another nonplussed look from his coach. A series of spins take centre-stage. Christophe whistles lowly as Yuuri pulls off a perfect Biellmann, his raised leg pulled high over his head. Christophe knows how difficult it is for male skaters to execute a Biellmann spin, given how much flexibility it needs. Yet Yuuri makes it look so easy here, again another point in his favour towards his remarkable skill. The transition down to a sit spin is so smooth that Christophe felt a shiver tickle his spine. The way the sleeves and skirt blossom down with Yuuri’s descent cannot be described as anything less than elegant and…Christophe is tempted to use “sensual”, but this performance is anything but sensual . It is purity and innocence personified. Everything about Yuuri screams beauty in its purest sense, none of the sexualised heaviness and breathy energy that Christophe is known for. It is as if Yuuri is still untainted by the cruel and dirty world, truly an angel who is above the depraved, debauched mortals that he looks down upon. So entranced by the display of true, unblemished beauty, Christophe nearly misses the upcoming third and final jump - a triple toe loop. And just like the prior two jumps, Yuuri executes and lands this one as perfectly as possible. This time, Christophe rises to his feet with his applause, which has the understandable effect of weirding his coach out even more. The final step sequence builds rapidly to the climax, and Yuuri rises in tandem. Christophe almost wonders if Yuuri is going to actually lift off the ice and ascend back up to heaven where he belongs. Of course, Yuuri does not. Still, as the church organ comes to a slow, smooth end, Yuuri raises his cusped hands up towards the audience, as if offering his blessings to everyone gathered in the rink today. A small part of Christophe wishes that Yuuri’s blessings were just for him only. Still, the Swiss skater joins in on the raucous applause, which as a whole, rivals the applause given to Christophe at the end of his short skate. Yuuri settles back down, bows to the audience, and skates back to a man whom Christophe believes is his coach. Together, they make their way over to the kiss-and-cry. Christophe stops clapping, as a hush falls upon the arena, everyone anticipating the judges’ decision and the release of Yuuri’s score. When the number flashes on the screen after several nail-biting moments, a different kind of hush takes over.
“Yuuri Katsuki has been awarded a score of 85.04 points. He is now in first place.”
85.04
Yuuri just broke Viktor’s world record of 83.94 points . Christophe can’t help it. He really can’t. Not when he has been proven right . He bursts into loud, manic laughter, as the entire arena explodes.
To Be Continued.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
The moment the announcement is made is when Yuuri’s entire world screeches to a halt.
He…what?
He…just broke Viktor’s world record?
Wait. What? What?
He stares at his score. It stares right back at him.
85.04
Yuuri tries pinching himself, hoping that he will somehow wake up back in his hotel room, and realise that this is all a lucid dream because this cannot be
real
-
The sudden, sharp rise of noise snaps him out of his spiral. The entire arena is going
batshit insane
. From where the other skaters are located, all of them are staring at him as if he had just told them that Viktor is not the Living Legend, and is actually a hockey player secretly masquerading as a figure skater.
Except one.
Yuuri can see Chris laughing his head off. Why? Yuuri has no idea. But he can recognise a crazed, manic laugh whenever he sees one, because Chris is famous for that, especially when he gets really,
really
drunk.
It does nothing to settle the anxiety brewing in his stomach. While he had the goal of changing things this time around, there was nothing in Yuuri’s plans that involved
breaking a world record at the tender age of 14
. If anything, such a feat should only come much,
much
later.
Oh god, Yuuri starts to panic, what is going to happen now? He just changed history far too drastically! Is reality going to break? Are pigs going to start flying? Is
he
going to start flying?
“ - uuri! Yuuri!”
A strong hand clamps down on his shoulder
hard
, snapping Yuuri out of his second spiral. Nishigori-sensei is looking at him with a mix of both pride and concern.
“Are you okay? You’re looking rather pale.”
In truth, Yuuri is not okay. His stomach is churning uncomfortably, and there is an unbearable pressure rising up his throat.
He can’t. He needs to go
right now
.
Yuuri tears off his skates and bolts away from the kiss-and-cry. Nishigori-sensei’s shouts are drowned out by the roar of the still screaming arena. Yuuri bursts out of the rink and beelines for the nearest bathroom, which is thankfully just around the corner. Hurtling into one of the stalls, Yuuri barely has time to kneel over the bowl before the nausea breaches the dam.
If Christophe was laughing earlier, he is no longer laughing now.
The moment he saw the colour drain from Yuuri’s face, he knew that something was wrong.
One thing that hardly anyone knows about Christophe (except for his coach and immediate family back in Switzerland) is that he suffers from generalised anxiety disorder, and is on medication and goes for monthly therapy. It is partly why he puts on a confident, flirty persona around other people, both as a coping mechanism and a second layer of defence against the anxiety that can make his stomach churn when it gets especially bad.
And right now, seeing Yuuri bolt out of the rink, hand over his mouth and the other clutching his abdomen, Christophe recognises the telltale sign of an anxiety episode.
In all honesty, he can’t blame Yuuri for having one.
The Japanese skater had just broken the world record cemented by the Living Legend himself, where it had remained untouched for
years
. In one fell swoop, the tsunami had hit, and everything that they all knew is now washed away and obliterated. Yuuri must have understood the implications, and it triggered the resulting anxiety episode.
Christophe knows what he has to do.
He bolts up and rushes out of the rink.
“Chris! Where are you going?!”
He ignores his coach calling after him. Bursting out into the hallway outside, Christophe scans around for the nearest bathroom. Finding a ceiling sign which points around the corner, he beelines towards the men’s bathroom, whereupon he hears the unmistakable sound of someone emptying their stomach contents. Christophe rushes to the stalls, and thank fuck, the one where the sounds are coming from is unlocked.
He opens the door, and is greeted by the sight of Yuuri, still in his short skate costume, without any footwear, kneeling over the bowl, trembling horribly as his stomach performs an emergency evacuation.
Christophe immediately enters, locking the door behind him. He gets down, and gently hugs Yuuri from behind.
Yuuri barely registers someone entering his stall, and locking the door behind him.
It is testament to how much the anxiety is wreaking havoc to his mind when he doesn’t even flinch when that someone
wraps their fucking arms around him in a gentle hug.
“Shh, shh, it’s okay,
mon ami
. Just let it out, let everything out.”
Yuuri hears the person’s voice whisper directly into his ear. Unable to do anything else, he just vomits what is left of his stomach contents into the bowl, which is already filled considerably with the remains of his hotel breakfast. The person hugging him never lets go throughout.
“You good? Are you feeling better?”
No, he is still not good. His stomach might be empty, but everything is still spinning. His vision is going in and out of focus, and he can’t
breathe
- !
“Focus on my hug,
mon ami
,” the voice speaks softly, squeezing slightly for emphasis, “Focus on my arms, and listen to my voice. Only my voice, there is nothing around here, except you and me. I am here,
mon ami
. I am not going anywhere until you want me to. Just listen to my voice,
oui
? I am going to count numbers, try to follow me, okay?”
Yuuri vaguely hears numbers being counted in French, and he desperately clings onto the voice. The numbers go up to ‘10’, before resetting back to ‘0’. The numbers ascend, and reset, ascend, and reset. The process repeats itself over and over. Yuuri slowly begins to see again, the fog dissipating in his mind. He can finally breathe again, and the panic coursing through his body recedes.
“There we go,” the voice is louder now, and Yuuri sucks in a breath, “Are you feeling better,
mon ami
?”
Yuuri turns around, meeting concerned green eyes, “C-Chris?”
Hm? This is interesting.
Only people whom he is extremely close to (i.e. his immediate family and coach) call him “Chris”.
And yet Yuuri, whom he is only meeting in-person for the first time, right now, in an unremarkable toilet stall in a men’s bathroom, is actually addressing him with that nickname.
Interesting, really interesting indeed.
Especially since Yuuri, again only meeting in-person for the first time, seems to have a spark of recognition within those warm brown, almost honey, eyes.
Which should not make sense, especially if Yuuri has never met him before.
Christophe, however, pushes that thought aside for now, “Are you feeling better? Are you with me,
mon ami
?”
He sees a myriad of emotions flash across Yuuri’s face, far too quickly for him to make out what they were. There were also far too many to be considered normal, which piques the intrigue that Christophe had pushed into the back of his mind in favour of showing concern for his fellow skater.
“I-I’m with you. I’m fine.”
Christophe gives Yuuri a gentle smile, “Can you stand? Or do you need my help?”
“A…a little help…w-would be nice.”
If not for the current circumstances, Christophe would have found the Japanese skater’s stammer adorable, even
cute
, dare he say.
He helps Yuuri to his feet, reaching around to flush the toilet bowl, “Come, let’s get you to the sink. I’m sure you would like to wash the taste of vomit out of your mouth,
non
?”
Yuuri puts up no resistance, and Christophe brings him over to the sinks. Still keeping a hand on him, Christophe supports Yuuri while the latter turns the tap on and starts rinsing his mouth out. At the occasional cough, Christophe pats Yuuri’s back to help ease the congestion.
A few minutes later, Yuuri straightens up, and turns the tap off.
“T-Thanks.”
“Think nothing of it, Yuuri.”
Yuuri glances down, “How did you find me?”
“I saw you run from the rink,” Christophe replies, still keeping an arm around him, “I recognised that you were having an anxiety episode, and you were clutching your stomach. I knew that the one place you would run off to was the bathroom, so I went after you. You also didn’t lock the stall door. Good thing though, because I was able to reach you.”
Yuuri stares at him for a moment, before his cheeks become flushed, “I-I’m sorry that you had to see that. I must have looked like an absolute -“
“Take it from me, as someone who also experiences anxiety episodes occasionally,” Christophe squeezes Yuuri’s side, “The last thing I want is for you to have to go through it alone.”
Yuuri snapped his head towards Chris so fast that he almost got whiplash.
Did…did he hear that right?
There was no way he heard that with his own two ears.
Christophe Giacometti, shameless sex symbol who used the ice to release his charged, sexual energy all over the audience like a wave of euphoria and rapture, who would not hesitate to pole dance with him in front of hundreds of people in a banquet, and flirts with him even when he and Viktor were firmly a couple, has
anxiety
?!
…
…
This has to be a dream.
Or a hallucination, maybe?
Because shameless, confident Chris = Generalised anxiety disorder?
Yuuri’s brain be like: Cannot compute. Error. Error. Commencing emergency shutdown to prevent overload.
Christophe can’t help it. He really can’t.
Yuuri’s expression is priceless. He literally looks like his brain has crashed and is rebooting.
Christophe laughs so hard, he has to grab the sink ledge in order to not crash onto the floor.
All the while, Yuuri continues staring at him like he had just grown a second head.
“Oh!
Mon dieu! Mon dieu!
Your face is hilarious! I can’t! I can’t!”
It takes several minutes for Christophe to calm down.
“Okay, okay, I’m good. I’m good,” he promises to Yuuri, who is still staring (did he even blink?), “I know, you must be thinking, after performing like a stripper on the ice and then climaxing for everyone to see, there is no way I could have anxiety.”
“I…uh…huh?” Yuuri intelligently replies.
Christophe gives his peer a meaningful grin, “Yuuri, mental disorders do not pick and choose who to affect. They can happen to anyone.
Merde
, even the most confident of people may secretly have anxiety or other potentially crippling disorders. They just hide it well under masks, and only reveal their true state to those they trust.”
Yuuri blanks again, “You…trust me?”
“Hey, us anxiety sufferers ought to stick together,
non
?” Christophe gently throws an arm across Yuuri’s shoulders, “We both know that anxiety is nothing but a
putain
, so that makes us friends already!”
“I…huh…”
“So, you got a cellphone?” Christophe is already guiding Yuuri out of the bathroom, “We should exchange numbers!”
“I…I left my bag in the rink -“
“There you are!”
Suddenly, a middle-aged man comes beelining towards them, his own coach following a short way behind.
“Yuuri!”
the man cries in relief, panting hard, “
Where on earth were you?! You just bolted out! I couldn’t find you at all!”
Yuuri’s cheeks are now flaming red,
“S-Sorry, Nishigori-sensei, I was…um…”
Despite knowing virtually nothing about Japanese, Christophe recognises one word that allows him to make an educated guess. He just hopes that the man can understand English, “You must be Yuuri’s coach, yes? I apologise for the bother, but Yuuri was having an anxiety episode. He was with me. I was helping him to come out of it.”
Thankfully, it seems that this Nishigori-sensei is able to understand him. He also speaks in English, albeit with a noticeable accent, “I see. You have my thanks, Giacometti-kun.”
Christophe sees his coach catch up,
“Chris! Where the hell did you run off to?!”
“Apologies, coach. I had to help my friend here,”
Christophe switches back to French,
“He was suffering from a really bad anxiety episode. I had to make sure that he was safe and did not accidentally hurt himself.”
Christophe subconsciously pulls Yuuri closer. Judging from how Yuuri did not protest or try to move away, it was an appreciated gesture.
His coach nods after a moment,
“I understand, and you did the right thing, Chris. But please, let me know next time instead of bolting off like that. You nearly gave me a heart attack when I couldn’t find you!”
“Duly noted, coach,”
Christophe gives a two-finger salute.
Awkward silence follows, with no one speaking up or saying anything for a long moment.
“Well,” Christophe breaks the silence after it drags on, “if that is all, I think Yuuri here needs some fresh air after that harrowing experience.” He turns to the Japanese skater, “How about a tour around Vienna? I know quite a few places from my travels here.”
“N-Now?”
“If you can, I would like to bring you out.”
“I…um…” Yuuri appears to consider it, “...okay.”
Christophe smiles widely, “Splendid. Now, let’s go get your bag and some shoes for your feet.”
Both coaches stare dumbly as Christophe leads Yuuri back towards the rink, “You must be hungry right now, since you vomited out your breakfast. I know this excellent café where…”
They remain standing there, long after both skaters have moved on from sight.
Slowly, they meet each others’ eyes.
Neither say anything, most likely because neither even
knows
what to say.
To Be Continued.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
After getting his bag and shoes, Yuuri goes to a different bathroom to change out of his costume and back into some proper clothes. Meeting Chris outside, they secretly leave the convention centre through an emergency exit and head off back to the hotel where the skaters are staying for the Vienna Cup. It is a good job that with autumn, Vienna’s temperature is starting to fall. Yuuri dons a knit cap and a face mask, not only to protect his head and the lower half of his face from the cold, but also to conceal his identity from anyone who might recognise him as the one who shattered Viktor Nikiforov’s world record. The bus ride back to the hotel thankfully passed without incident. Chris and Yuuri head up to their respective rooms to dump their bags, grab their wallets, and meet up again in the hotel lobby. “You said there’s a café that you know pretty well, where is it?” Yuuri asks. “A bit off the tourist track,” Chris replies, “We can take a bus from the hotel, but we will need to walk for a bit.” “Is it popular?” Yuuri needs to know, “After what happened earlier…” “Not too much,” Chris reassures Yuuri, as they head towards the doors, “Also, if you keep your mask on, you probably won’t be recognised.” “Okay, then.” Just their luck that as soon as they arrive at the bus stop, the bus that they need to take has just arrived. Chris pays both of their fares (something that Yuuri wanted to protest, but all he gets for his efforts is a finger to where his lips are under the mask, and Chris insisting sweetly that this is his treat and Yuuri should just accept it like the good boy he is), and they go to sit down on two available seats. As the bus travels down the streets of Vienna, Chris turns to Yuuri, “Tell me, do you wear masks all the time?” “I think it’s more of a cultural thing?” Yuuri replies quietly so as to not draw attention from the other passengers, “I mean, if someone is sick, they would wear a mask out of necessity if they have to leave their home to go somewhere. But many people wear masks even if they are not sick, I think primarily to keep a low profile.” “Oh? I didn’t know that the Japanese had so many secrets,” Chris jokes. Yuuri nudges him good-naturedly, “It’s not that. We are just a really private culture. We usually keep to ourselves and not bother anyone unless we really have to.” Yuuri then pretends to consider, “Although, given how Japan is associated with ninjas, perhaps there is an element of secrecy involved?” Chris grins, “Fine, fine, keep your secrets. I won’t pry.” They arrive at their stop shortly after. Upon alighting, Chris brings Yuuri down a series of back streets until they arrive at what appears to be a hole-in-the-wall café. As Chris had promised, there are only a few patrons inside, despite it being close to midday. Stepping inside, Yuuri takes note of the rustic, almost countryside-like aesthetic that the establishment has put on. There is an unlit fireplace that is made of stone, plants like ivy and holly growing from little notches carved into the wooden walls, and wrought-iron lamps hanging from the ceiling, currently turned off since there is still light outside. The tables are all made of wood, and the chairs are upholstered with fabric embroidered with Alpine designs. It all feels very cosy, homely, far away from the hustle and bustle of people. Yuuri appreciates it. He really does. “Come,” Chris nudges him along, “Let’s go order.” Yuuri is guided to the front counter, where a board hanging overhead lists the drinks and food offered for sale. Immediately, Yuuri is left stumped, as all of the words are in German. “Um…Chris, I can’t understand German that well.” “Ah, yes, I forgot,” Chris hums, “I can help to translate.” “Well, just get me what is most popular here,” Yuuri replies quickly, “The barista is waiting for us.” “You sure?” Yuuri nods, so Chris turns to the barista and places their order in fluent German. Watching the effortless conversation taking place, Yuuri quietly makes a note to himself to bump the studying of German a few levels higher on the list of languages he wants to learn when he returns to Japan. Chris nods to the barista, “Come, Yuuri, let’s go get a table.” There are plenty to choose from, but Chris has the foresight to grab a table near the back of the café, just in case of the off-chance that someone recognises Yuuri. “So,” Chris starts up a conversation, “I presume this is your first international competition, non ?” Yuuri very nearly tells him otherwise, but catches himself just in time. This Chris does not know that he was sent back into the past. As far as the Swiss skater is concerned, this is Yuuri’s first international competition. “Yes, it is,” Yuuri nods. “I would ask how it feels thus far, if not for…you know,” Chris chuckles. “I mean, I never thought I would break a world record , of all things,” Yuuri replies, and it is the truth. Not once since he came back in time did he ever consider that he would accomplish something of that magnitude, “I mean, we’re talking Vit - Nikiforov here.” Chris hums in agreement, filing away that little stumble for future reference. A server comes by with their order, and Chris thanks them for their trouble. “I got you their house special,” Chris tells Yuuri, “Perfect for cold weather like now.” It is a large mug of what Yuuri thinks is a latte of some sort, if the image of a swan drawn on the surface with the milk is any indication. Yuuri picks it up, instinctively blows gently on the surface (so as to not destroy the beautiful artwork), and takes a sip. While he had been expecting a blow of overpowering sweetness, Yuuri is pleasantly surprised to discover that whatever sweetness there is in the latte is actually rather muted. Instead, there is a hint of cinnamon, and the earthy, aromatic taste of the coffee beans comes prominently to Yuuri’s taste buds. It is a perfect blend of different tastes, complementing each other in harmony to create a drink that warms Yuuri’s insides. “You like it?” Chris grins. Yuuri nods, choosing to take a second sip instead of answering. There is a lull in the conversation as the two skaters take a moment to savour their respective drinks. In that time, another patron enters the café. However, they are merely making a take-away order, and leaves a few minutes later with a paper bag and a paper cup of coffee. “I like this drink,” Yuuri says quietly, “It’s not too sweet.” “You don’t like sweet stuff?” Chris asks. “Oh, no, I do,” Yuuri puts down his mug, “It’s just that…I can’t afford to have too much sugar in my diet. My metabolism is…complete crap. I gain weight easily, so that means my carb intake has to be low too.” “I completely get it,” Chris nods, “We can’t be blessed with perfection.” He then considers, “Well, except for Nikiforov, maybe.” Yuuri snorts, “I’ll take your word for it.” (A memory surfaces on cue, one where Yuuri is reading a copy of Vogue Russia, with his husband once again on the cover, looking as perfect and picturesque as ever. Only to look up from the magazine and spy the man in question draped over the sofa, hair mussed up, face mask plastered over his face, munching away on some off-brand potato chips while dressed in an oversized T-shirt.) Chris sighs, leaning back against his chair, “You know, Yuuri, you are the breath of fresh air that, I think, everyone needs.” “Eh? What do you mean?” Yuuri takes another sip of his latte. “I’ll be honest, ever since Nikiforov moved up into seniors, competing in the juniors division has become…boring,” Chris admits, “Not meaning to brag or anything, but every year, I’m faced with skaters with ambitions that are, quite honestly, too big for their bodies to handle. They have massive egos, always proclaiming that they will be the ones to dethrone the Living Legend and whatnot. And each time, I see their ambitions and egos crush them while on the ice.” ‘Don’t I know that,’ Yuuri thinks to himself, as he recalls the arrogance of the Tokyo skaters, and even the Moskovichs in his previous life. “And you know the saying, if you are all by yourself at the top, it quickly becomes extremely lonely,” Chris continues, oblivious to Yuuri’s inner thoughts, “When the competition starts to lose pace, competing itself loses its value. I’m sure you know, since you were the regional champion for the past four years in a row.” At this, Yuuri blinks, his mug frozen just before his lips, “How…did you know that?” “I looked you up,” Chris replies honestly, “When I saw your name under the Vienna Cup assignment, I will admit, I was intrigued. Up until now, there has yet to be a figure skater from Asia who qualified for the Grand Prix circuit. You can imagine my curiosity when I saw your name alongside mine. Naturally, I did some research. While your profile under the JSF was all that I could find, your achievements, after some shitty translating, speak for themselves.” “Ah…huh…” “By the way, that regional competition that you have been dominating for the past four years, the name is a huge mouthful. Perhaps you can put in a word to the JSF to have it shortened?” Chris asks. That little injection of humour drains the tension out of Yuuri. Snorting a bit before taking another sip of his latte, he thinks about Chris’ statement, and he finds himself readily agreeing with his Swiss friend. The Chu-Shu-Kyushu regional competition (Chris is right, that is a mouthful) has indeed become a little dull, especially in recent runs. Yuuri himself does not see it as any more than additional training. In at least the western prefectures, Yuuri is the undisputed champion, to the point that any other skaters competing against him are either too intimidated or have long since accepted that trying to go up against him is just not worth it. And, if fate continues to go on the path that Yuuri has forcibly (and unintentionally) set it on, he might just find himself as the junior world champion, which is a feat in its own right. While the implications of such a scenario unfolding are very real and will have to be addressed should it come to pass, it also reminds Yuuri of Viktor’s own loneliness as the Living Legend in his past life. Had it not been for the Nishigori triplets posting that video online, Viktor would not have found the inspiration and drive to become his coach, and subsequently reigniting his love for the ice. Viktor had earnestly told him such once Yuuri moved to St. Petersburg. His husband had expressed, multiple times in fact, his sincerest thanks for bringing meaning and joy back into his life, making him feel human once more, when he had merely been a soulless robot who smiled prettily for the cameras and flashed a gold medal for the glory of Mother Russia, which would later just be thrown into a cardboard box, along with countless other gold replicas, and tucked away in a small storage room to be forgotten about. Yuuri never realised how isolated and alone Viktor had been ever since the popular press crowned him as the Living Legend, an untouchable monarch who countless others bowed before him in reverence, never realising that the Legend was still a human underneath. And now, in 2007, in a small café situated along the backstreets of Vienna, Yuuri is getting a taste of those exact circumstances, although he has yet to actually become a world champion. “I…I think I know what you mean,” Yuuri eventually says, as he puts down his mug, “While I’m nowhere near where Nikiforov currently stands, I do know where you are coming from. Once you go unchallenged at something, it becomes boring. You lose your passion for what you are doing. You just become so unmotivated, you feel like there is no point anymore.” “I concur,” Chris nods, “Which is why I’m glad you came along, Yuuri. You made things interesting again, you have given people a reason to be motivated, myself included.” Yuuri can’t help the bashful grin, “I…I just want to do things right.” “And I have complete faith that you will, I’ll drink to that,” Chris raises his mug. Yuuri chuckles, taking his own mug to clink it against Chris’ mug. Halfway across Europe, in the city of St. Petersburg, Viktor sighs, staring forlornly out of the window which overlooks the Neva river. At his feet, Makkachin whines quietly, pawing at his owner’s leg in concern. “I’m fine, Makka,” Viktor tries to reassure his dog, but another whine easily pierces through the façade, forcing another sigh, “Alright, I’m not fine.” The large poodle stops pawing at his leg, staring up expectantly. “It’s just…just…” Viktor runs a hand through his long hair, “I don’t know!” He turns away from the window and starts pacing around the room, with Makkachin watching his every frustrated step, “I don’t know why I’m not fine! I’m just not fine!” The poodle whines, very much upset because his owner is in a pickle. Viktor plops down onto his sofa with a frustrated groan, “I hate this. I hate feeling like this! Why the hell am I feeling so…so…” Unable to find the right words, Viktor screams loudly, tilting over to faceplant into one of the cushions at the end of the sofa. Makkachin whines, trotting over in order to try comforting his distressed owner. The large poodle lifts his front half onto the sofa, and nuzzles Viktor’s head. Although he appreciates the gesture by his most loyal pooch, it doesn’t relieve Viktor of the oppressive feeling crushing his lungs and stomach. He remains faceplanted into the cushion, groaning miserably as he is internally ravaged by such… negativity , on a level of intensity never before experienced in his 18 years on this Earth. His pity party of one (two, if you count Makkachin), however, is suddenly interrupted by someone pounding hard against his front door. “Vitya! Open up! Now!” More pounding gets Viktor to peel his face off the cushion, and for Makkachin to get off the sofa. There is only one person who pounds against their door like a battering ram. But what could he want? Viktor gets up and heads to the door. Opening it, he peers out, “Yakov? What are you doing here?” Standing outside his apartment is an elderly man, who once upon a time was a handsome heartthrob who performed on the ice for the glory of the USSR, but is now an old grouch with an embarrassing receding hairline. His severe expression gives the impression the man is forever pissed off at something, but this time, that severity is mixed with that of franticness. “Did you read the news?” “Huh? What?” Viktor opens the door wider, letting his coach in. “The headlines, Vitya! Are you aware of what happened?!” “Um…no? Why? Did something happen?” Viktor remains ever clueless. A vein pops on Yakov’s exposed forehead. The man storms towards the TV set in the living room. Grabbing the remote, Yakov turns it on. Coincidentally, the channel that is currently on screen is the local news broadcaster.
“- and for those who are just joining us this afternoon, history has been made a few hours ago in Vienna, where the junior short skate world record, cemented four years ago by the living legend, Viktor Nikiforov himself, has just been broken -”
Just like that, Viktor’s world comes to an abrupt, screeching halt. Did…did he hear the anchor’s words right? His junior short skate world record, which had remained untouched for the past four years and cemented his status as Russia’s figure-skating prodigy at the tender age of 14, has been broken?! By whom?! As if answering his erupting questions, the broadcast switches to a replay of the short skate segment at the Wiener Stadthalle in Vienna. On the screen, a dark-haired figure skater, dressed in a pure-white costume with loose, billowy sleeves and a short, flowing skirt, enthrals the audience with a perfect triple salchow-double toe loop combo jump. The voiceover continues, “14-year-old Yuuri Katsuki from Japan, who made his international debut today at the Vienna Cup, did the unthinkable by being awarded a score of 85.04 for his short programme -”
85.04
While only a small difference of 1.1 points, it is all that was needed for Viktor’s world to come crashing down in a shower of glass. “Блядь.”
To Be Continued.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
By right, this shouldn’t be happening.
It is far too early, too soon for this.
Hell, this is not even the Grand Prix
final
itself! This is just one of two qualifying competitions that he needed to clear
before
he stood a chance against the very best of junior figure skating.
And yet, here Yuuri is, preparing for an impromptu press conference in the lobby of the hotel he is staying at, because the entire planet had been rocked by his upheaval from breaking the impossible. And now, the world has descended upon Vienna.
Standing in the elevator lobby, just out of sight from the dozens of cameras and reporters waiting to broadcast the interview live to all four corners of the globe, Yuuri is given five minutes to prepare for his first-ever appearance on international television.
Nishigori-sensei barely had time to inform him about it. Word had spread like wildfire, and major news broadcasters had descended upon the hotel in droves. They came far too quickly for any official figure skating authority to put together a proper press conference, forcing both the ISU and JSF to hastily work with hotel management in herding the growing number of reporters and camera personnel to one side of the lobby so as to not disrupt regular hotel operations, with the promise that Yuuri will speak a few words to the media about achieving the impossible.
A person in Yuuri’s position, especially a teenager, would be
petrified
by the dozens of cameras, microphones and recording devices aimed at them, questions being fired like missiles from all sides. And perhaps, in his previous life, Yuuri would be terrified at the idea of facing cameras and reporters so soon and without much time to prepare.
But this is a Yuuri who has lived 37 years and had multiple experiences with the vultures known as the press. Courtesy of Viktor, the normally anxiety-crippled Yuuri slowly grew his confidence to face the flashing cameras and rapid-fire questions without flinching or a stammer. The pep talks, lessons and even comforting reassurances stuck with him until now, and even though Viktor is not with him in the flesh, Yuuri can still feel his husband’s presence with him, albeit in his memories.
Brushing down his turtle-neck top, Yuuri fixes his expression into that of calm, professional neutrality, one that Viktor stressed he must always put on, because the press will jump at any flicker of emotion to hurl questions with the intent to trip him up.
A hotel employee approaches him, “Yuuri Katsuki? It is time.”
Yuuri nods, and with Nishigori-sensei flanking him, he steps out into the lobby.
Viktor waits anxiously.
The press conference is due to start anytime now, with the local news broadcaster supposed to air the interview live on television.
Apparently, it had been a last-minute decision by the ISU, given the sudden, unplanned influx of news crews descending upon the hotel where the junior skaters are staying, hoping to get a few words from Yuuri Katsuki for tomorrow’s headlines.
Even now, several hours after his world had been shattered into smithereens, Viktor still can’t believe it.
Someone had broken his world record, when no one before had succeeded.
And while it is his junior short skate record, the fact that a skater had surpassed a previously unbeaten record set by the Living Legend himself is world-shattering. Viktor’s social media accounts have been inundated with messages, retweets and posts about this unknown skater demolishing his record, with many of his fans shocked that someone had actually managed to surpass the unbeatable Living Legend himself, despite the fact that they are in two separate leagues.
Once Viktor learnt that an impromptu press conference had been hastily set up and set to air live at 8pm St. Petersburg time, he planted himself on the sofa in front of his television, Makkachin snuggled by his side, and tuned in to the news to catch the event live.
He needed to know more about this Yuuri Katsuki, the one who achieved the unthinkable. Viktor remembers Yakov’s words from earlier.
“We don’t know anything about this skater yet, but if he is able to break your world record at the same age that you set it at, we cannot rule out the possibility that he could rise further and break your current world records. If you don’t know already, this is a warning, Vitya. You cannot be complacent, because you are no longer the unchallenged king.”
The wait was frustratingly long. Viktor willed the time to pass faster, desperate to hear the comments from Katsuki about breaking his junior record. Will the Japanese skater use this moment in the spotlight to declare his intention to surpass Viktor? To issue a declaration of war on live international television?
Secretly, Viktor hopes not.
The last thing he wants is for this potential rival (and isn’t that something, the unchallenged Living Legend having a
rival
) to lower himself to the level of those dirty
Moskovichs
who are more hot air than substance. While Viktor does value his status as the Living Legend (or so he tells himself), the last thing he wants is another egoistic wannabe who loudly proclaims that he will be one to usurp Viktor from his throne, only to not have the skill or ability to support his bragging, and then proceed to crash and burn spectacularly like an Aeroflot plane attempting to take off.
He has gone unchallenged for so long, and it has become so lonely at the top. Even figure skating has gone dull and grey from his constant wins and standing at the top of the podium. The shining shimmer of gold has lost its lustre, becoming nothing more than a circle of metal that has no value to Viktor, simply a reminder that he had brought “glory” to Mother Russia once more, as was the expectation of his fans and the FKKR.
Perhaps…this was the negativity he was feeling earlier. When he struggled to identify the suffocating sensation that clogged his lungs and stomach when it first hit, the answer now comes as clear as day.
Burnout.
Mila had mentioned that word once, when one of her friends from the Moscow rink had publicly declared that she cannot bear to be on the ice for another moment longer and stormed off, eventually taking a year-long sabbatical before announcing her retirement and subsequent immigration to Britain. It had been the unending pressure, the unrealistic expectations, and the frankly disgusting treatment she faced by her male counterparts that did the poor woman in. At the time, Viktor paid little attention to that, but now, he realised that he too had fallen victim to the infamous condition that robs the will and motivation out of anyone for the things they loved the most.
Because frankly, figure skating has become tedious, nothing better than a
chore
that he does around the apartment when he feels slightly more functional than normal. It has become repetitive - train, win gold, train, win gold, train, win gold, wash, rinse and repeat.
But now, things have changed.
Viktor stands at the cusp of a seismic shift, one that will destroy everything he once knew and rebuild it from the ashes. But only if Katsuki proves himself better than those wannabes that are honestly not worth Viktor’s time.
Then, the broadcast shifts to the live coverage in Vienna, and Viktor immediately sits up.
As soon as he steps into the lobby, Yuuri hears the sound of camera flashes going off to his right. He strides over to the cordoned off area where a sizable crowd of reporters and camera personnel have been herded into to avoid being a nuisance to other hotel guests and staff.
The reporters are now shouting over each other, throwing questions while thrusting their microphones and recording devices towards him. Yuuri maintains his neutral mask throughout it all, as Nishigori-sensei takes the helm, “One at a time, please! Don’t overwhelm my skater!”
Yuuri is forever grateful that his coach has a commanding voice, specifically for occasions where he has to deal with unruly individuals. Immediately, the reporters all go silent, until Nishigori-sensei points to one of them at the cordon line.
“Emma Stevens from CNN Sports. How does it feel to have broken one of the Living Legend’s world records?”
Yuuri turns to the reporter’s direction, and opens his mouth to respond.
If Viktor wants to be honest, he is pleasantly surprised.
(And more than a little relieved.)
“I honestly did not expect to break Nikiforov’s junior world record. I came to Vienna looking to do my very best, and to make my family and supporters proud. Never in my life did I expect that I would achieve what everyone thought was impossible.”
Viktor absently strokes Makkachin’s fur, “He’s so modest…”
Unbeknownst to him, the large poodle is paying rapt attention to what is happening on the screen.
The man whom Viktor suspects is either Yuuri’s coach or security detail points to another reporter.
“Graham Davids from the BBC. People are saying that you are going to usurp Viktor Nikiforov from his throne and become the new Living Legend. What do you have to say about this?”
Yuuri surprises Viktor again.
“I think that is too far a stretch. I have only broken
one
of Nikiforov’s world records. Nikiforov has plenty of other accomplishments that I can only
dream
of reaching. Furthermore, Nikiforov is far more experienced and talented than me, a junior skater from a small city in Japan.”
Forget modest, Katsuki is downright
humble
! There was no gloating, no bragging or arrogance. Katsuki spoke with an even, neutral tone that is controlled and steady. While the Japanese skater is clearly in the spotlight, he is not showing himself off for the world to see. Instead, he is directing the attention towards
Viktor
, when he could have used his moment of attention to further his own image.
Viktor…is speechless.
“One last question, and then we need to go,”
the coach (or security detail) says to the reporters,
“My skater needs to eat and prepare for his free skate in two days.”
He then points to the third, and final reporter.
“Jennifer McIntyre from Eurosport, what does Viktor Nikiforov mean to you?”
Viktor stiffens. What does Katsuki think of him? Like, Katsuki’s actual, personal feelings about him?
As the skater seems to think about his next response, Viktor holds his breath.
What does Viktor mean to him?
For that particular moment, things appear to slow down.
Yuuri sinks into his thoughts. In his previous life, Viktor had been his inspiration to pick up figure skating, when he had merely used the rink as a source of recreation. Viktor had been everything that he wanted to be, but he got so much more when Viktor became his coach, then boyfriend, then fiancé, and then husband. By getting to know Viktor, Yuuri uncovered more layers underneath the public image of the Living Legend. He found a man who desperately wanted someone to connect with, and to
love
for all eternity. Yuuri was what Viktor wanted, and they were happy with their lives, bound together by their unbreakable love.
Now, though, things have changed.
Viktor is no longer just an inspiration, but an end goal. The whole reason Yuuri is doing this is to reunite with Viktor in this current timeline, and to make Viktor fall in love with him once more. However, Yuuri knows that he cannot reveal such information on international television. Not only because of the unbelievability of time travel, but it also makes Yuuri seem like he is using figure skating to snag Viktor like some prized catch. While his reasons are completely valid given the circumstances, no one other than Yuuri will see that. If anything, the public and press will see Yuuri as nothing but selfish and egoistic, as if Viktor belongs to
only
him, like a child’s favourite plush toy.
He will need to frame his words carefully, ensuring believability, while remaining faithful to his own truth.
Viktor could never have expected what Katsuki would say.
“Nikiforov is both an inspiration and an aspiration. He is one of the reasons why I picked up figure skating in the first place. At the same time, he is a standard that aims to encourage skaters like me to reach for. Yes, he is the Living Legend, but he is the reason why figure skating is so popular. We all want to emulate and be like the person we look up to. Figure skating has taken on a different meaning because of Nikiforov, and I’m not talking about the exhilaration of winning the gold or the fame from thousands of screaming fans. Nikiforov has taken a sport and breathed new life into it. He changed figure skating from a hyperfixation on technical elements into a sport that is beautiful and awe-inspiring. As a newbie figure skater from the small city of Hasetsu, I hope that I will be able to live up to what Nikiforov has done for the sport I love, and to honour his name as the best figure skater of our time. That is all I have to say, thank you.”
Without a further word, Katsuki turns on his heel and leaves the lobby with his coach following behind, even as the camera flashes intensify and the reporters resume shouting questions in the vain hope that Katsuki would answer them. The broadcast ends, and the anchor once again appears on screen.
Viktor, however, is no longer paying attention.
He…doesn’t know what to think.
Katsuki did not just obliterate Viktor’s expectations, he just shifted Viktor’s view of
everything
.
When he had been fearing another
Moskovich
in Japanese skin earlier, Katsuki proved himself as neither a jealous wannabe or a self-absorbed arrogant prick, but instead a genuinely inspired fan who saw Viktor as more than just a Living Legend. Somehow, Katsuki sees Viktor as someone to emulate, a figure skater who revolutionised the sport, and is personally driven to leave his own mark on the ice that both gives homage to Viktor’s legacy, and also being distinctly Yuuri Katsuki.
For sure, Viktor has met countless skaters who claim that he was their inspiration to join the sport. But years of dealing with people from all levels have taught Viktor that many of such claims were just that, merely claims with no basis in truth. Viktor could tell that they were just buttering him up, hoping to stroke his ego in order to gain some favours or advantages. There was nothing genuine about these people, greasy brown-noses who go to whatever lengths to get ahead in life.
But Katsuki. Even Viktor could tell from that interview that Katsuki was different. Katsuki is genuine and truthful, never dominating his moment in the spotlight with self-aggrandisement or arrogance. In a span of a few minutes, Katsuki had set himself on a higher moral plane than any other self-absorbed skater that Viktor has met in the past.
Katsuki is no rookie. He is establishing himself as a genuine contender for Viktor’s crown. Yakov had been right to warn him about becoming complacent (which he is not, thank you very much!), because Viktor can already foresee Katsuki becoming a serious threat on the ice.
But he is not worried or scared. Oh, no.
Far from it.
For the first time, Viktor feels the invigorating spark of motivation within his soul. Genuine excitement fires through his veins, and had it not been for the late hour, Viktor would have bolted to the rink to train straight away.
It goes without saying that Viktor is looking forward to training tomorrow. And he hopes, preferably soon, that he will get a chance to meet Yuuri Katsuki in the flesh, and personally thank him for reigniting his love for the ice.
To Be Continued.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
“I don’t believe it.”
“What don’t you believe, Chris?”
“That
that
was your first-ever press conference.”
Yuuri shrugs, as he stretches his legs, “I don’t know what to tell you, Chris, other than it really
was
my first press conference.”
Chris narrows his eyes at him, “I’m calling bullshit.”
Yuuri pauses his stretches to put a hand over his heart in mock hurt, “I’m hurt, how can you not believe me?”
“You look too composed for your first ever press conference!” Chris points an accusing finger at him, “I will have you know, I was a stuttering mess when I had to face the press for the first time!”
Honestly, that tracks.
Yuuri is still coming to grips with the surprising revelation that Chris has anxiety, and his second revelation of being a quivering fawn against the wolves that are the press made a lot of sense. However, Yuuri’s circumstances are far different, but he is not going to reveal such sensitive information to Chris just yet.
Maybe one day, but not now.
“Again, I don’t know what to tell you, Chris,” Yuuri shrugs, “You will just have to believe that that was my first press conference.”
Chris responds by squinting his eyes in suspicion. If Yuuri wants to add some comedic relief to the situation, he would add the X-Files theme song in the background. It would be quite fitting.
As is with all ISU-sanctioned competitions, the roster on who skates first is reversed. This time, Yuuri is third, and will be performing before Chris, who naturally remains in the middle of the roster. Once warm-ups are over, Yuuri and Chris sit together to watch the first two skaters perform.
Such an arrangement was a surprise to their respective coaches, even after seeing the two skaters together after they had both disappeared off to the bathroom. Understandable, really, since not two days ago, Yuuri and Chris were complete strangers with no good reason to be seen with each other. But, ever since emerging from the men’s bathroom together, the two skaters have been effectively attached at the hip. There was no rhyme or reason for the sudden closeness, even when Nishigori-sensei questioned Yuuri after the press conference about the anxiety episode, and the teen had confirmed that he did suffer such an episode and it was Chris who helped him out of it. This sort of closeness only occurs after a long time of friendship (years, perhaps), and to see it only after two days is more than a little jarring.
However, both coaches are unable to get so much of a word (or explanation) out of either skater, and are unable to do so now.
After the first two skaters had gone out, it was now Yuuri’s turn. He shakes off his Team Japan jacket, and hands it to Nishigori-sensei. Chris eyes the gold-accented, midnight-blue costume appreciatively. The Swiss teen mutters a “good luck” to Yuuri, who acknowledges it with a smile and nod.
Yuuri skates out to the centre of the rink, as the announcer reads out his name and the song that he will be skating to. Once the applause dies down, and Yuuri gets into starting position, the music plays, and he is off.
Once again, Christophe knows that they are in for another beautiful performance.
He had watched “The Little Mermaid” as a little boy, and “Part of Your World” is just as recognisable to him now as when he first heard it as a five-year-old child. Of course, he should have known that Yuuri will be performing to a song that is set within the ocean, if the Japanese skater’s costume is any indication. Christophe is, however, curious about the gold accents, wondering how it fit into the symbolism.
He gets his answer when the lyrics of the song come to mind in time with the instrumental music (curse the ISU for not allowing vocals in songs, the lyrics add beauty to the performance, dammit!), and most importantly, in sync with Yuuri’s movements on the ice.
‘Yuuri…’ Christophe thinks to himself, ‘Are you yearning for something out of your reach?’
He thinks back to Yuuri’s press conference, and how the Japanese skater spoke extensively about Viktor Nikiforov. While most people would think that Yuuri was just expressing his admiration towards the Living Legend, when Christophe watched the press conference, he knew, instinctively, that Yuuri’s words belied something far deeper than simple admiration.
Yuuri spoke as if he knew Viktor very closely, more than just an acquaintance or even a friend. Yuuri spoke as if he loved Viktor on a deeply romantic, perhaps soulmate-like, level. Which should not be possible, since Yuuri does not know Viktor. Hell, Christophe doesn’t think that Yuuri had actually
met
Viktor yet!
This is all very intriguing, another piece of a jumbled up puzzle with no clear head or tail. Is Yuuri yearning for Viktor? Like lovers separated by time and space? Is this performance a silent message to Viktor, a plea to notice him through the ice?
The first jump that Yuuri makes is a double axel, which the execution and landing are perfect, in Christophe’s opinion. However, he sees more than that. A concentrated effort to add a flourish to the jump and landing, like the swish and flick of a mermaid’s tail against water.
Christophe applauds. If Yuuri is trying to reflect Ariel’s desire to reach a world where she thought she could never go, he is doing a damn good job at it.
Next is a series of spins that once again reinforce how unmatched Yuuri is with his flexibility. The shift between the sit and Biellmann spins are so fluid that Christophe cannot compare it to anything but the ocean. The way Yuuri’s body moves is scarily akin to the ocean currents and waves, something that Christophe can appreciate (on an artistic level, because this is a 14-year-old, dammit!) as a major boost to the Japanese skater’s performance.
The second jump comes up, a triple lutz - double toe loop. Christophe whistles lowly as Yuuri shows off his impressive stamina by executing both jumps with not a single mistake or hesitation. He had seen the previous skater flub up his double combo because of a sudden spike of nerves. Ah, the dreaded nerves, one of the many things that could break a skater’s performance. If not for his medication and therapy sessions, Christophe probably would have drowned under the monster that was anxiety-induced nerves a long time ago.
Which makes Yuuri even more amazing.
In the brief time that Christophe has known the Japanese skater, Yuuri has never once mentioned ever being on medication or going to therapy for his anxiety. The fact this is Yuuri’s first-ever international competition, is currently pulling off an excellent performance, and he broke one of Viktor Nikiforov’s world records, all without collapsing from the dreaded nerves like how Christophe had when he participated in his first international competition, it is just mind-blowing.
Of course, given the subtle oddities he has picked up from Yuuri over the past few days, there could be another reason why the Japanese skater had been able to keep the nerves at bay thus far. One that is currently hidden, closely guarded. After all, the Japanese tend to keep to themselves, so there’s bound to be a secret or two hidden behind the walls.
That being said, Christophe is not going to pry. He won’t say anything until Yuuri is ready to divulge. Everyone is entitled to their secrets, such as him not telling anyone outside of his innermost circle that he is on anxiety medication or attending therapy. Not that Christophe was ashamed of that, it’s just that one can never be too careful about who they share their secrets with. While Christophe sees nothing wrong with medication or therapy, not everyone out there, even in Switzerland, is on the same wavelength. Mental health is still largely stigmatised in the western world, perhaps even more so in countries like Japan. And besides, why make it that everyone and their grandmother knows that he suffers from anxiety disorder? He has his support network, and that is good enough.
Finally, the third jump is up. It is a -
Wait. What?
What is this?
Christophe blinks, as Yuuri takes off from the inner back edge of his right foot, does not three, but
four
rotations in the air, and lands perfectly on the outer back edge of his left foot.
Immediately, the entire arena goes apeshit, and Christophe knows why.
While Yuuri is not the first skater to nail a quadruple flip jump (the honour goes to Viktor, who was ratified as the first skater to successfully perform such a jump at an ISU-sanctioned competition when he was sixteen), Yuuri took it one step further by being only
fourteen
, again breaking one of the Living Legend’s accomplishments.
Granted, the jump was not as fluid as the two preceding jumps, but the fact that the jump and landing were still perfect in terms of technical execution means that the judges are still going to accept it. If this doesn’t give Yuuri a significant boost in his score, Christophe will personally use the blades of his skates to slit the throats of the judges who dared to be stupid.
All around him, spectators are cheering and clapping, while Yuuri winds down his performance with graceful, slow halt. His pale cheeks are flushed, and a thin sheen of sweat coats his hair and forehead, as his hand is raised up to the heavens, or as Ariel would have done it, up to the surface above. The applause rises in volume, and Christophe finds himself rising to his feet in tandem, applauding hard as Yuuri recovers from his post-skate haze. The Japanese skater politely waves to the audience, before skating off the rink, meeting his coach. They then head to the Kiss and Cry, and await the judges’ tabulation of his score.
A hush befalls the arena, as the score is revealed.
110.75
“Yuuri Katsuki has been awarded 110.75 points, with a total score of 195.79 points. He is currently in first place.”
Applause rocks the arena.
Christophe sees Yuuri being hugged by his coach, and the look of satisfaction on the skater’s face.
While Yuuri didn’t manage to break Viktor’s free skate world record (he was five points short), the fact that Yuuri breached the 100-point mark is already a huge boost. The prior two skaters didn’t even come
close
to that threshold. And if this trend continues, Yuuri could very well be walking away with his first international gold medal around his neck.
Of course, that’s provided if Christophe doesn’t surpass Yuuri when it comes his turn to skate.
But for now, he will let Yuuri bask in his moment of glory, before he steps onto the ice to make his bid to be the best skater in this arena.
If someone were to ask Yuuri if he was disappointed that his total score failed to breach the 200-point threshold, he would vehemently disagree.
After the debacle that was his short skate score breaking his husband’s world record, the last thing Yuuri needs is to break
another
record in this timeline and actually shatter reality to the point that he grows wings and ascends up into the sky.
He doesn’t need another heart attack so soon in his (current) short life, thank you very much!
For now, he settles back into his seat, as Yuuri watches Chris skate out into the rink. The skater who went after Yuuri failed to attain as high a score as he did, but it mattered little in the bigger picture anyways. As far as Yuuri was concerned, this was a battle between him and Chris for the gold. For sure, he still had his chance to qualify for the Final even if he won silver here and subsequently medaled in the Pokal der Blauen Schwerter competition, but after breaking his husband’s record, a gold medal would be a nice finish to a week of surprises.
Having recognised Chris’ choice of costume for his free skate, Yuuri already knows what music will be playing as Chris, once again, cranks up the sexual appeal to enthral the audience with another arousing performance.
Rapsodie Espagnole is a tantalising mix of colours, moods and tonality within music that constantly shifts between lower, quiet tones and higher, faster ones. It represents the many facets of sexuality and sexual prowess, from slow and gentle, to fast and vigorous. As Chris performs, he encapsulates every aspect of the music shifting between teasingly gentle and enthusiastically rough. His jumps are both powerful and graceful, almost as if he is bouncing upon a mattress. Of course, given that Chris’ sex appeal has yet to mature into what Yuuri is familiar with, the implications are not as obvious as with what Yuuri has seen before.
At the very least, the audience is captivated by the larger-than-life performance. And when Chris finishes his skate by releasing himself upon the ice, the applause is thunderous, about comparable with the reception that Yuuri received at the end of his performance.
Picking himself up from the ice, Chris waves to the spectators, before meeting his coach and heading over to the Kiss and Cry.
A hush descends upon the arena once more. Yuuri holds his breath, waiting in anticipation for the judges’ tabulations.
The tension builds, as the numbers come in.
It had been a long time coming.
Years of unrelenting training, sweat, blood and tears have built up to this moment.
As cameras flashed around, and cheers echoed all across, the announcers broadcast his name, and he steps up onto the podium.
On this moment, Katsuki Yuuri stands on the top, as the first place winner of the Vienna Cup competition.
In all honesty, as he stands on the top of the podium, Yuuri feels like this is all a dream, as clichéd as it sounds. Everything all around him feels surreal, as if he is just a smidge over the line into the cosmos. Even now, he still can’t believe it. He has achieved his first major milestone to reclaim the life that he had lost.
As the gold medal is placed around his neck, and a small bouquet of flowers is presented to him, Yuuri can’t help but shed a few tears of joy. Very little can compare with the sheer happiness coursing through his soul. Perhaps the only occurrences that can begin to even rival this moment is when he and Viktor got married under church bells and flower petals, and when he moved into Viktor’s apartment in St. Petersburg.
And now, with this gold medal, Yuuri is one step closer to having it all once more.
His choice of free skate song had been deliberate. Ever since he had been sent back in time, Yuuri had yearned to be part of the world where Viktor resides. Just like Ariel reaching up to the surface, he had reached up to his husband, and with his first international win, Yuuri’s fingertips have now broken through the threshold.
He might not be fully part of the world where Viktor is yet, but with his first gold medal under his belt, the world is now much closer than it was before.
Either way, Yuuri is going to break through the surface, and retake everything that was stolen from him.
He has come this far now, and giving up is not an option.
To Be Continued.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
On the night of September the 16th, 2007, the main banquet hall of Yu-Topia Katsuki was unusually packed.
Then again, it is probably not a surprise.
After news broke from Vienna that their homegrown hero had smashed a world
record
in an international competition a few days before, the Katsukis had been inundated with messages of congratulations and people coming up to them to sing praises to Yuuri. Things only escalated when the impromptu press conference from the hotel in Vienna was broadcasted by NHK to the entire archipelago. Millions of viewers tuned in to their television screens to witness Yuuri answering to the global press in the lobby of the hotel where he was staying in, but nowhere was viewership higher than in the far-flung city of Hasetsu.
Never mind that it was midnight when the broadcast was aired. The entire city had stayed up into the unholy hours of the night, fuelled by whatever snacks and caffeinated beverages they could prepare for this momentous occasion.
When Yuuri appeared to a volley of flashing lights and shouted questions, everyone held their breaths, anticipating how their homegrown hero would act in response to this terrifying frenzy of attention.
And he did not disappoint.
Come morning, Hiroko and Toshiya were once again inundated by delighted neighbours and residents, congratulating them on raising such a poised and composed son who stared down the global press unflinchingly and never once faltered when faced with the entire world’s eyes on him.
The fanfare did not stop there. When news broke that Yuuri will be competing again on the 16th of September to determine the winners, word spread like wildfire.
Which brings to the present situation in Yu-Topia.
Never mind that the Free Skate segment of the Vienna Cup is going to be broadcast on national television by NHK anyways. It seemed that all of Hasetsu tried to squeeze their way into the onsen establishment run by the family of Katsuki Yuuri, the one who could very well bring glory to Japan and their small city by winning the gold in an international figure skating competition.
So many people came and begged to be let inside that Hiroko and Toshiya had to restrict entry to only friends and close neighbours. Even so, that still resulted in the main banquet hall being filled to capacity, something which hasn’t been seen in
years
, especially ever since business began to decline and the city progressively lost more of its onsen resorts.
The Katsuki family worked like they have never worked before. Even when Hiroko and Toshiya opened Yu-Topia twenty years ago, not once have they sweated and toiled like they are now to provide food and drink to the dozens of people eagerly crowded into the main banquet hall to witness history being made. Of course, no one was eating or drinking just yet, with all eyes trained to the analogue television set at the front of the banquet hall, where eldest daughter Mari is stationed to turn it on as soon as the broadcast was aired, among her other duties of taking orders from the guests and socialising with them as everyone waited for the big moment.
With her parents busy in the kitchen along with some hired help, Mari had become the outlet for endless gushing praise of her brother and his overseas accomplishments. While it had been endearing at first, things quickly became a bit dull and repetitive, especially with the alcohol flowing like there is no tomorrow. Through sheer will and patience she never knew she had, Mari simply soaked it all up like a sponge, using Vicchan as a silent companion in solidarity against the never-ending wave of adulation for her younger brother, halfway across the globe.
Finally, as the time for the broadcast draws near, Mari shouts over the din, “Everyone! Get ready! We’re about to start!”
Immediately, a hush descends over the entire banquet hall. Her parents and the hired help rush out of the kitchen and sit down in a designated spot reserved for them near to the television set. Mari turns the set on, which has already been programmed to NHK Sports. A few minutes pass, and the banquet hall of Yu-Topia Katsuki, along with the entire Japanese archipelago, tunes into the broadcast from Wiener Stadthalle in Vienna, Austria, to watch Katsuki Yuuri perform live.
Immediately, the camera zooms in on Yuuri himself, patiently waiting for his turn to get on the ice, as from what the subtitles say, he will be the third skater to perform. There is an uptick in noise within the banquet hall, as guests gush to Hiroko and Toshiya about how handsome their son is, with his hair slicked back and expression calm and focused.
In all honesty, no one paid any attention to the screen whenever Yuuri was not on it. Even when the first two skaters took to the ice, the atmosphere within the banquet hall was still entirely focused on the homegrown hero who has yet to perform. Stories were shared about Yuuri’s life, how he was such a cute baby during his infancy and how he grew up to be a cheerful, bubbly young child. There was a moment where the accident of the falling tree branch sent Yuuri, unconscious, to the hospital was mentioned, but any shadow of gloom and doom was quickly dissipated by smiles about Yuuri’s remarkable recovery and unprecedented growth since the accident.
Then, comes the moment everyone has been waiting for.
The entire banquet hall erupts into cheers when Yuuri steps onto the ice and skates to the centre. Despite the less-than-ideal quality of the analogue television set, nobody complains when the camera zooms into their hero, and when the music of
‘Part of Your World’
begins to play, Yuuri begins his performance.
Nobody says anything, except to make noises of amazement and excitement whenever Yuuri spins or shows off his enviable flexibility. When Yuuri executes a jump, the entire hall gasps, and when he lands with perfection, everyone applauds uproariously. Mari hears all kinds of praise each time, but the words overlap each other into an incomprehensible blur. The noise only grows as alcohol is passed around and thrown back with increasing rigour. And then, when Yuuri brings his performance to a close, the camera zooming down from overhead as he reaches up to the heavens above, the entire banquet hall rises to their feet, applauding until their hands smarted and cheering themselves hoarse.
Mari glances over to her parents. Hiroko is wiping away tears, while Toshiya is raising his sake glass up in the air, toasting to her brother on the screen.
Then, as Yuuri is escorted to the Kiss and Cry (he had to explain to her why it was called that, because the awarded score could either mean an on-screen kiss or a full-blown breakdown in the most extreme scenarios), Mari shouts, “Everyone! Quiet! They are about to announce his score!”
Just like that, the entire hall goes as silent as a graveyard, as the judges take a few agonisingly long moments to tabulate Yuuri’s score.
“Yuuri Katsuki has been awarded 110.75 points, with a total score of 195.79 points. He is currently in first place.”
Of all the explosions of noise that rocked Yu-Topia Katsuki tonight, this has got to be the loudest thus far.
Everyone is cheering and shouting, raising their glasses to toast Yuuri. Mari finds herself once again inundated with delighted gushings of praise for her brother.
“That must be a new personal best for him!”
“I’ve never seen such a beautiful performance in my entire life!”
“You must be incredibly honoured to have such an accomplished brother, Mari-chan!”
Mari simply lets the words bounce off her, nodding where is appropriate. She only opens her mouth to reply when she consoles a tearful Yuuko who has become overwhelmed from how “Yuuri had ripped her heart out by the strings and very gracefully blended it into a juice for her to drink”, with Takeshi putting up a half-hearted attempt to comfort his girlfriend.
Nearby, Hiroko and Toshiya have also become outlets for their friends and neighbours’ endless praises.
“You must be so proud!”
“Yuuri-kun is a national treasure! I wish my children were just as accomplished as your son!”
“Do you think Nishigori-san will be willing to train my son too?”
At that particular question, Hiroko speaks up, “Akira is training our son as a favour. I’m afraid that he will not be able to properly focus on everyone if he takes in more skaters.”
“Your son is so flexible! Extraordinarily so! How did he get to such a level?”
“You have to thank our illustrious Okukawa Minako for that!” Toshiya laughs, “She has been teaching Yuuri ballet since he was very young.”
“Do you think she will take my daughter on? Is she accepting other students right now?”
“She’s the one who won that fancy award many years ago, right?”
“The Benois de la Danse,” Hiroko replies, “It is the most prestigious honour in the ballet world. Minako is the only Asian recipient of the award thus far.”
“I can’t believe she is over forty!” someone cries, “She looks so much younger than that!”
“What kind of sorcery do you think she partakes in in order to look so youthful?”
The conversation kind of devolves from there. However, attention quickly swings back to Yuuri when the last skater has performed, and a hush descends upon the banquet hall as the judges tabulate the score for the final skater. When the number is displayed, and Yuuri's name remained at the very top…
…all of Japan celebrated.
But perhaps not as loudly as in Yu-Topia.
The roof probably lifts off several centimetres as the banquet hall erupts into a deafening, collective hullabaloo. Alcohol spills all over the tatami floor, food gets upset and tossed everywhere, and tables are knocked over as everyone throws themselves at one another to hug, cheer and cry. Even when the television screen broadcasts the medal ceremony, and Yuuri steps up to the top of the podium to receive his gold medal, hardly anyone is really paying attention. Hiroko and Toshiya are caught between being overwhelmed by their own emotions and pride for their son, and being inundated by another wave of congratulations and praises from their friends and neighbours. Mari simply used Vicchan as her shield to protect herself from the same fate, but even she didn’t stop her own pride from blossoming in her heart.
Her brother has come a long way. And while Mari would probably never fully understand Yuuri’s connection with the ice (and that Russian figure skater he is so obsessed with), she could and
will
support him throughout it all. And seeing her brother on the screen, a bright smile on his face as he flashed his gold medal and waved to the audience, Mari knew then and there that Yuuri is going to take the world by storm.
Nearly 3,700 kilometres (just over 2,290 miles) away from Hasetsu, in the suburbs of Bangkok, Thailand, a young boy of 11 years sits glued in front of the computer screen, not moving away even when the urge to use the bathroom presents itself.
He had been waiting for this day for the longest time. Ever since his Twitter account had been bombarded with messages from shocked fans about someone
breaking
the Living Legend’s junior short skate record, his curiosity had been piqued.
It was probably the best decision he had ever made in his short life, perhaps only second to taking up ice skating as a young child.
Now, Phichit Chulanont is perched on the chair, his numerous hamsters draped all over him, as he eagerly awaits the livestream of the Vienna Cup.
It had taken hours of digging and shitty Google Translate between English, Japanese and Thai before he could find a site which had set up a livestream from a local Japanese broadcaster. And given that the livestream is starting one hour ahead of Bangkok time, Phichit had parked himself in front of the computer a good two hours beforehand, just in case.
As a result, he had completely missed dinner, and even when both his sisters and mother called for him to eat, Phichit refused to budge from his chair, staring at the screen and periodically refreshing the page to catch the moment the livestream started.
So focused on the screen, Phichit almost didn’t hear the door open.
“
น้องชาย, what are you doing? You missed dinner!”
“Shush, พี่สาว, I’m busy!”
“What could you be so busy about that you missed dinner?” his second eldest sister, Banyen, steps into the room, not bothering to close the door behind her, “แม่ was worried that something had happened to you!”
“I’m fine! Just don’t distract me!” Phichit hisses, again never looking away from the screen, and refreshing the page for good measure.
“What are you doing?” Banyen peers at the screen.
“I’m waiting for the livestream to start!” Phichit replies impatiently, as if it was the most obvious thing in the entire world.
“What livestream?”
“The livestream for the Vienna Cup, duh!” Phichit gives his sister a look, as if she is quite stupid.
“Phichit,” Banyen gives her brother a deadpan look, “You are the figure skating freak in this family. Unlike you, the rest of us plebeians know little to nothing about what you are saying whenever you go off on your spiels!”
“Well, it’s not my fault that you are uneducated!” Phichit sticks his tongue out at her.
A tick mark appears on Banyen’s forehead, “Why you little—!”
Phichit suddenly gasps, cutting her off, “It’s starting!”
Right away, Banyen knows she has lost her younger brother. Figuring that she might as well see what the fuss is all about, she goes to grab another chair, and physically pushes Phichit more to the side so she could get a good view of the computer screen.
Admittedly, for the first part, Banyen is far from impressed.
“What’s the point of this?”
“Shh! Just wait! He’s not performing yet!”
“Who?” Banyen raises an eyebrow.
Phichit whips his head towards his older sister, “Excuse you?! How could you not know who he is?!”
“Well excuse you back, น้องชาย, I don’t follow figure skating like you!” Banyen retorts.
“Blasphemy!” Phichit cries, “Heresy! Dishonour on you for not knowing the great Katsuki Yuuri!”
Banyen is both outraged and confused. What is Phichit going on about?
“Anyway! Don’t disturb me!” Phichit turns back to the screen, “Yuuri will be performing third, and I can’t afford to miss him!”
Banyen opens her mouth, but seeing that she has lost her younger brother to the computer once more, she sighs loudly and also turns to the screen.
The skater on-screen finishes his performance and leaves the rink. After his score is given, the camera shifts to the next skater…
…and Banyen’s heart stops.
She vaguely hears Phichit fanboying beside her as Katsuki Yuuri skates to the middle of the rink.
Words cannot begin to describe how beautiful Yuuri looks.
Like, how can a man look this beautiful and
ethereal
, for one?
That crystal clear skin, the shiny, glossy black hair that has been slicked back but still falls gracefully to the shoulders, the beautiful costume that not only accentuates the sinful curves and shapes of lean muscles, but very much pays faithful homage to the ocean at night, how on earth could all of this even be
real
?
Yuuri Katsuki doesn’t even look human. No human could ever look this beautiful!
Banyen pays little attention to the music in the background. Her attention, just like Phichit, is focused on Yuuri’s skating. Her eyes never once looked away from every graceful, beautiful movement. Both siblings gasp in tandem when Yuuri lifts off in a jump, and make identical noises of awe when the skater lands each jump perfectly. Banyen ogles the way Yuuri’s body curves, twists and splits with each spin and step on the ice, and she will not hesitate to admit that she is drooling a little from the corner of her mouth.
So engrossed in the Japanese skater, Banyen almost doesn’t register the end of his performance. Only when the audience in the rink applauds, does she snap back in the present.
Beside her, Phichit is trembling from fanboy overload, “Aaaahhhhh!!!!! That was so good! No, more than good! That must be his best performance ever!!!”
Banyen blinks, before slowly turning to her younger brother, “Phichit… I think I just saw God…”
“Yuuri is just the best!” Phichit continues to fanboy, “If he doesn’t win gold after that, I will personally fly to Vienna and have my hamster bite those judges to death!”
Banyen, if she could, would have wholeheartedly agreed with her younger brother. However, she never got to state her agreement, as Phichit suddenly breaks out in excited shrieks. The livestream is now showing Yuuri sitting in an area which Banyen vaguely recognises as the “Kiss and Cry”, a term gleaned from one of Phichit’s many figure skating ramblings, with an older man which Banyen thinks is Yuuri’s coach.
Phichit’s shrieks reach a crescendo when Yuuri’s score is announced.
“He got over 100 points!” Phichit starts shaking his older sister’s arm, “That is a new personal best for him! Oh god, Yuuri is king! He is the absolute best!”
Banyen remains silent beside him, too caught up in those tantalising sights of Yuuri’s otherworldly beauty to utter a sound. She may have once not been that religious of a person, but after tonight, Banyen is a devout follower of the ethereal god known as Yuuri Katsuki.
Across the East Sea in the South Korean capital of Seoul, another viewer has tuned in to the same livestream of the Vienna Cup.
However, unlike Phichit in Thailand, this viewer had not sought out the livestream and waited hours beforehand so as to not miss it.
Eleven-year-old Lee Seung-gil, just like Phichit, is also a novice figure skater who will soon be debuting as a certified junior skater. However, unlike Phichit, who got into figure skating on his own volition because he was intrigued by the ice and the beautiful performances pulled off on skates, Seung-gil had been forced to take up figure skating by his parents, as an alternative to the traditional academics-based route that many of his peers went through. And although Seung-gil is proficient in mathematics, he finds academics incredibly boring, and at first, a sport like figure skating seemed like a much more palatable alternative.
That is, until he met the coach his parents hand-picked for him.
Park Min-so is just as about dry as it gets. Everything about figure skating to her is about perfect technical execution. While on paper, Park is as good a coach as any good one, she has an unhealthy obsession with the technical component of skating and calculating which spins and jumps will get Seung-gil the highest possible score.
If anything, Park has made figure skating as dry, dull, boring, and soul-depleting as any academic route that Seung-gil would have been forced on had he not chosen the ice.
It’s almost as if his parents are trying to turn him into even more of an emotionless, antisocial robot than he already is.
In simple terms, figure skating is nothing more than a tedious chore, Park Min-so can go to hell, his parents can also go to hell, and Seung-gil would rather live out his days in Jeju Island running a shelter full of dogs that he rescued from the country’s barbaric dog meat industry.
Alas, he had set himself on this path (albeit without realising how much his parents would fuck it up for him), and right now, Seung-gil is being forced to watch a livestream of the Vienna Cup as an “assignment” by his coach.
Basically, she wants an essay about where each skater did good in terms of their technical components and execution, and where they need improvement.
If that isn’t as dry as it gets, Seung-gil doesn’t know what is.
Only two skaters in, and Seung-gil is bored to tears. The only consolation he has amidst this dull drudgery is his beloved husky puppy, who is keeping him company on the sofa as he watches the livestream on a laptop. Giving his puppy continuous pets as he naps is the only thing keeping Seung-gil from also nodding off.
As the second skater finishes his performance, Seung-gil leans his head back against the sofa, groaning softly. This is pure torture. What would he give to be granted a reprieve from this mind-numbing agony that he has been cruelly subjected to.
“Representing Japan, please welcome Yuuri Katsuki.”
The world slows to a stop.
A mere second ago, Seung-gil had been gazing at the screen with a half-asleep daze. Now though, alertness rushes back like a tsunami wave, and Seung-gil sits up, his hand coming to a stop on his puppy’s fur. It is so unexpected that the husky looks up, wondering why his master suddenly stopped petting him.
Seung-gil’s breath is stolen from him, as the Japanese skater takes to the ice. The camera zooms in on Katsuki’s features, a look of determined grace and poise, the rink lights reflecting daintily upon crystal clear skin and flawless black hair that cascades like a dark waterfall, and the hue of the ocean that is created by the skater’s costume. Despite the graininess of the video quality, everything appears to be in high definition, and Seung-gil almost feels like he is actually there in Vienna, not in his living room in Seoul.
As the music of
‘Part of Your World’
plays across the rink, and through the speakers of the laptop, Seung-gil loses all analytical capability. His attention and focus entirely centres on Katsuki Yuuri, who is unlike the previous two skaters who went before him. While the previous two did put more emphasis on technical execution (Park would have been pleased, if she ever did show emotion…), Katsuki seems to effortlessly balance technical execution and artistic expression like it was as easy as breathing. Katsuki skates with his heart on his sleeve, open and exposed to everyone watching. If anything, it makes Katsuki even more beautiful and ethereal, almost like a divine god or heavenly being taking the form of a figure skater.
Seung-gil feels a rush of emotion, something that hardly ever happens nowadays, as Katsuki smoothly and seamlessly transitions between his spins, step sequences and jumps. And even the jumps, the most technical component of figure skating, are full of emotion and meaning, a mirror to Katsuki’s feelings and thoughts. Seung-gil is left breathless at the desire, longing and want on Katsuki’s face, as if he is echoing Ariel’s desire to see the world above the ocean.
Never in his short life has Seung-gil ever witnessed such a soulful, humanising performance. Up until then, everything about figure skating had been technical, dare he say mechanical or even robotic. It had always been about execution, technique and form. There had been no room for emotion or feeling, something sneered and looked down upon by Park.
And perhaps, Seung-gil had been isolated, kept from seeing that the impossible is actually possible. Since he started figure skating at the age of five, Park had constantly drilled into him that everything about figure skating had to be about technical execution and form. He had never been exposed to anything other than that, kept ignorant of something else about the sport that he could have used to define himself as a figure skater.
A small part of him wonders if Park knew about this, and deliberately kept him away from being exposed to the emotional side of figure skating. Park herself has never been an emotional woman, far too closed off to form any sort of close bond. Perhaps she saw emotion as a weakness, as many Koreans did. If there were any good intentions hidden under her jaded exterior, perhaps she thought she was doing Seung-gil a favour by forcing him to focus entirely on technical execution, and not letting these “dangerous” emotions get in the way of a good performance.
But that would be where Park would be wrong. Dead wrong.
And Katsuki Yuuri is the living proof of her errors.
Figure skating is supposed to be beautiful, emotional and soulful. A good performance balances both technical and emotional components. Of course, Katsuki takes it a step further by putting more emphasis on emotions, but the Japanese skater does have a solid technical foundation to build up the emotional pillars. But if Seung-gil is never able to build beyond the technical foundation, then he will forever be stuck as a novice, never managing to make it to juniors, let alone seniors. Seung-gil will never be able to differentiate himself from the hundreds of skaters who are able to execute the technical component well, but struggle to stand out because they lack the emotions and feeling in their performances, leaving them nothing better than robots programmed to perform tricks, lacking the heart and soul to be fully human.
Admittedly, Seung-gil is angry at Park and his parents. He wasted six years because of their flawed and detrimental mindset. Six years he will never be able to get back. He could have progressed further had he not been forced into a mould that they thought was best for him. He could have been
happy
that he escaped the traditional route that children like him would have been forced into, but he almost grew to hate the sport that he is now in, because his parents thought they had the right to interfere in his life and control how it progresses.
Well, no more.
As Katsuki finishes his performance, reaching up to the heavens like how Ariel reaches up to the surface of the ocean, a fire is ignited inside Seung-gil. While he may not be able to escape the grasps of Park yet, he now has the hope that he will be able to create a better future for himself. Katsuki is a living example of what he could be. Seung-gil knows he is capable of achieving much more if he follows in Katsuki’s footsteps, and it will be the greatest “fuck you” to his parents and Park possible.
While it will take time, Seung-gil can already envision a future where he is a figure skater on his own independent terms, free from the manipulations and interference of parents who are too wrapped on controlling their child’s life and a coach who is more of a robot than a human being.
It will take a long, concerted effort of grit and determination, but things are already starting to look up for Seung-gil.
He can already feel it.
Halfway across the world in the Russian capital city of Moscow, in an unassuming, greying apartment block built during the time of the USSR, a six-year-old boy with luminous blond hair cut in a bowl style and viridian eyes sits in front of a ratty television, eagerly awaiting the live broadcast of the Vienna Cup.
Ever since he heard about someone breaking that stupid Living Legend’s junior SP record, Yuri Plisetsky had scoured the Internet for any clues about this unknown skater who somehow did the impossible. Once he had a name and a face, plus information that his FS will be broadcasted live through the national sports channel network, Yuri had planted himself in front of his grandfather’s television and not moved an inch.
He did not want to miss the moment where he got to see Yuuri Katsuki skate.
Even though, naturally, he had never heard of the Japanese skater before, Katsuki has to be something else entirely in order to break the Living Legend’s record. Which is more than enough to capture Yuri’s attention. Anyone that could kick the Living Legend off his pedestal is already a winner in Yuri’s books.
For far too long, he has been forced to endure the endless gushing and boasting from his rinkmates about how
they
will be the ones to overtake the Living Legend. Well sucks to be them, Katsuki already did that. And as much as Yuri would have wished that he was the first one to break one of the bastard’s records, having someone who isn’t from the Moscow rink (and better yet, a foreigner) getting there first is more than enough for Yuri.
Plus, it gives the young boy something to work towards.
Yuri shares the same (or, almost same) name as Katsuki. And there is more than enough space on the international ice stage for
two
Yu(u)ris.
If Katsuki can make it, then so can Yuri.
But there are important things to consider here.
Yuri is only six years old, and that proves to be a problem. He can already foresee himself stagnating, and dare he say, declining, if he stayed at the Moscow rink. If he wants to rise and match up with Katsuki, he will need to go someplace else, where a coach will train him to his fullest potential.
And there is only one place and coach to achieve that.
Yakov Feltsman, at the St. Petersburg rink.
Yuri had heard of Feltsman when that Nikiforov bastard started to make waves on the international figure skating scene. Feltsman was always present behind the smug bastard, and the coach, for all of his gruff severeness, is clearly doing an exceptional job since Nikiforov has been winning golds left, right and centre for the past several years. A quick Internet search revealed that Feltsman is based in St. Petersburg, which is the location where Yuri will need to go if he wants to make a name for himself.
(The fact that Feltsman used to be married to Lilia Baranovskaya, the famous prima ballerina, goes ignored by Yuri. At first.)
So he has a location in mind, the next problem is finding out how to get there.
Yuri lives with his grandfather, after his parents did a runner and failed their fundamental responsibilities. While his grandfather will move heaven and earth for him, Yuri knows that the old man is getting on quite a bit, and moving to a different city will not be easy for him.
On the one hand, Yuri wants to pursue his dreams, but on the other, he loves his grandfather dearly. He took him in when his parents dropped the ball, and he figuratively spoiled him rotten, giving him the best life possible within his means. Yuri could not even
fathom
leaving his grandfather behind, all alone, in Moscow while he moves to St. Petersburg. It was like spitting in the old man’s face, after everything he had done for him.
It was sacrilegious to even think about it!
Either way, Yuri is forced to pause his internal mental debate, when the television announces Katsuki’s turn on the ice. The young blonde immediately whips towards the screen, as the Japanese skater steps into the rink.
…
…
He is
beautiful
.
Yuri is completely spellbound.
This cannot be real.
How can Katsuki only be 14 years old, and already look so much more beautiful than anyone Yuri has ever seen in his short life?
Katsuki could literally put those supermodels Yuri sees on posters and advertisements to
shame
! And he is a
guy
! The male skaters who are Katsuki's age in the Moscow rink look like bumbling oafs who were better off as hockey players or…Yuri doesn’t know, wrestling with bears, moose or some other large animal! The closest type of people that Yuri can compare Katsuki to are the ballet trainees at Mariinsky Ballet company, and even he would put them all to shame! And as Katsuki skates, it is very much clear that he has experience in ballet. While Yuri is not as well-versed in ballet as he is with figure skating, the way Katsuki’s body curves, bends, shifts and twists with every spin, jump and step completely screams ballet training. Even to a layperson like Yuri, it is abundantly clear that one does not get this flexible and fluid without some kind of ballet training under their belt.
Admittedly, Yuri doesn’t have the most positive opinion about ballet. Perhaps, if one had asked a slightly-younger version of him about his opinions about ballet, that Yuri would have snapped and snarled his blatant refusal about even stepping foot into a ballet studio.
Now, though, while his overall opinion about ballet hasn’t really changed, Yuri begrudgingly admits that if he ever wants to match up with Katsuki, he will have to seek out a ballet teacher.
(Lilia Baranovskaya comes back to mind. And despite never having met her in real life, Yuri can’t help the small shudder from running down his spine.)
(But… for Katsuki. He will put up with it.)
“Yurochka, what are you watching?”
Yuri is snapped out of his thoughts, “Grandpa!”
The old man hobbles into the room, “What has gotten you so intense?”
“The Vienna Cup, grandpa!” Yuri feels the excitement from earlier return, “Katsuki is performing!”
“Katsuki?” his grandpa repeats, obviously never heard of the name before.
“He is the one who broke that bastard’s SP record!” Yuri continues gushing, “Quick! You’re missing it!”
His grandpa chuckles, and ambles over to the sofa, taking the seat vacated by his grandson. On the screen, the Japanese skater executes a triple lutz— double toe loop jump combo.
Yuri cheers, “He did it! He didn’t stumble or fall like those losers before him!”
“My, I don’t think I’ve ever seen so excited to see another figure skater, Yurochka,” his grandpa remarks.
“That’s because Katsuki is better than that bastard!” Yuri replies, never taking his eyes off the screen, “Just you wait, Katsuki will kick that Living Legend off his horse!”
In all honesty, Nikolai Plisetsky does not follow figure skating as religiously as his grandson, but he wasn’t lying when he said that he has never seen Yuri so enamoured about a particular figure skater before. The closest was Nikiforov, but even then, his grandson only carries a grudging respect for him at best, which is more often than not hidden by insults and sneers.
This Katsuki must be something else if Yuri is genuinely singing praises about him without a hint of distaste or sarcasm.
“Shit, the next jump is coming…” Yuri mutters.
Nikolai watches as Katsuki takes off into the air, does four rotations, and lands perfectly.
Admittedly, the old man was not prepared for his grandson to shriek with joy, leaping up from the sofa and pumping his fist into the air.
“He did it!” Yuri screams, bouncing on his seat, “He fucking did it!”
Nikolai takes a few calming breaths, willing his old heart to calm down.
“He nailed that jump! He fucking nailed it! Take that, you Living Legend bastard!” Yuri’s excitement continues to grow, as Katsuki enters the tail end of his performance.
Nikolai turns to his grandson, “I… take it that that was good?”
“Good?!” Yuri spins on the old man, “That was more than good! That was fucking
amazing
! Only that Living Legend bastard has ever nailed a quadruple flip before, and Katsuki did it! And Katsuki is younger than Nikiforov’s first quad flip too, which makes him even more fucking amazing! That Living Legend bastard could never do that at Katsuki’s age!”
Nikolai falls silent, as Yuri goes on an excited ramble, “I want to be just like Katsuki! If Katsuki can take down that stupid Living Legend bastard, then I will become exactly like him!”
Out of curiosity, the old man asks, “How do you intend to do that?”
The question puts the brakes on Yuri’s excitement. Immediately, his entire demeanour shifts, and a side of the fiery, temperamental blond that only Nikolai is privy to makes itself known.
One where Yuri is vulnerable, worried, and unsure.
“Well… I… um…”
“You can tell me, Yurochka,” Nikolai reassures him gently, “I won’t judge.”
“I…want to go train under Yakov Feltsman.”
At first, the name doesn’t ring a bell in the old man’s head. But then he remembers seeing an old man next to Nikiforov in his many appearances on television, and since it is common knowledge that Nikiforov trains in St. Petersburg, Nikolai puts two and two together.
“I see, you want to move to St. Petersburg?”
Hesitantly, Yuri nods, “B-But I don’t want to leave you, grandpa! Y-You’re old, and you’ll be all alone here!”
Nikolai’s heart warms at his grandson’s thoughtfulness, “I may be old, Yurochka, but that doesn’t mean I’m not still mobile. Shall we start packing?”
Yuri whips towards him so fast the old man was sure he heard his grandson’s neck snap, “W-What?”
Speaking of a certain Living Legend (bastard), the man in question is holed up in his apartment, Makkachin resting by his side, as he watches the free skate portion of the Vienna Cup over and over.
Someone had posted the video to YouTube, which enabled Viktor to rewatch the free skate portion as many times as he wished.
Although, his attention was only on a certain portion of the video, featuring a certain Japanese skater who not only smashed his junior SP record, but subsequently received the highest score in the FS portion and won gold, the first-ever for Japan.
Yuuri Katsuki, a no-name skater who made his international debut in the Vienna Cup, now has the world’s attention on him for achieving the impossible.
And Katsuki now had Viktor’s attention too.
How could he not? No one, and Viktor means
no one
, has ever smashed his records before. Viktor had been the undisputed champion for so long that the thought of someone actually breaking one of his records had, admittedly, not crossed his mind before.
For sure, perhaps in moments of intense vulnerability that he had not acknowledged before, Viktor had wished for his perfect, unbeaten record to be upended, but with his mind (and soul) entirely focused on maintaining his status as the Living Legend (courtesy of the FFKKR), such thoughts were often overlooked until he had completely forgotten about them.
But now, that reality has come to pass. The status quo as he knew it was over. He is no longer the undefeated champion (technically, he still is, but
details
), and right now, Viktor is rewatching the Vienna Cup FS as an assignment from Yakov in order to learn more about Katsuki and how the Japanese skater can be used to better his own performances, especially when the senior division circuit begins.
In truth, though, analysing Katsuki had been the last thing Viktor had been doing for the past… two hours, rewatching the three and a half minute performance pulled off by Katsuki. Instead of using his analytical eye to note down where Katsuki had done well in, and where he had been lacking, Viktor has merely been watching Katsuki skate to an instrumental version of
‘Part of Your World’
from The Little Mermaid. His eyes have been following each of the Japanese skater’s movements, every spin, twist, bend and curve of the body, every step he took on the ice, not with an analytical view, but a view of appreciation.
To put it simply, Yuuri Katsuki is
beautiful
.
The flawless skin, glowing under the lights of the rink, the shoulder-length black hair that cascades down like an obsidian waterfall, those perfect curves, that enviable flexibility, everything about Katsuki screams beautiful, gorgeous, enchanting, just about every other synonym that basically means
perfect
.
Of course, Viktor had seen Katsuki skate before when the news broke about his SP record being shattered, but after watching Katsuki skate on repeat so many times that he has lost count, Viktor pretty much has Katsuki burned into his memory.
And his brain is having a field day.
Not only has his subconscious wish been granted, it has been done so by a skater that not only has a technical prowess that rivals his own, but has unmatched beauty that nothing in Viktor’s life can even begin to compare with.
Trust him, ever since becoming the Living Legend, Viktor has had
far too much
contact with people that ordinary folk might see as beautiful, perhaps even godlike, but Viktor knows how these individuals have gone to extremes just to look as “stunning” as possible. Rumours of going under the knife, unhealthy diets, use of harmful enhancing drugs, so much darkness just to attain a look of “perfection” that would ultimately kill them long before their due date.
But Katsuki is in a whole different league.
Everything about the Japanese skater screams
natural
, dare he say
ordinary
. There is no evidence of makeup or cosmetics plastered on Katsuki’s face, and his hair moves fluidly, without the use of gel or hairspray to inhibit it.
And don’t even get him started on his skating.
If one were to ask Viktor if anyone in the St. Petersburg rink can compare to Katsuki, he would truthfully say that the closest comparison would be with the new addition, Georgi, but even that is stretching it. Georgi takes dramatic flair to the extreme, to the point that his picture would be included in the Miriam-Webster dictionary under the definition for “drama king”.
(Those
Moskovichs
cannot even begin to compare, so they don’t get a moment in Viktor’s thoughts.)
But Katsuki, on the other hand, while there is definitely emotion in his performance, it all feels
natural
.
Scarily so.
No matter how many times he had replayed the Japanese skater’s performance, the sheer emotion rolling from the screen always managed to reach down deep into the recesses of Viktor’s soul. He could feel the desperate
want
from Katsuki’s expression and body movements. Even technical elements came off as emotional messages of desire and want for something just out of reach. Viktor is left wondering, on multiple occasions, ‘What is it that you are reaching for, Katsuki? What do you desire so much that you put it in your skating?’
It is poignant beyond belief, even though Viktor has no context or knowledge about the history behind Katsuki’s performance. Inexplicably, there is an ache in Viktor’s heart, as if he is resonating with the Japanese skater’s emotions.
And perhaps, when he takes the time to really think about it, Viktor knows what he desires the most, but just like with Katsuki, no matter how much he tries to reach for it, it is just out of reach, unattainable.
The desire to be
normal
.
His status as the Living Legend, all of the press conferences, the camera flashes, the rabid fans, the product deals and collaborations, the pressure to look
perfect
and
godlike
… Perhaps, in the beginning, he enjoyed it, because it was a novel feeling. The sensations of being famous, of being a star which people look up to, of actually being
somebody
, were exciting and tantalising like you wouldn’t believe.
But like with every novelty in life, the experience of being the famous Living Legend began to lose its lustre within the first year. As Viktor won gold after gold, attended more press conferences than he can count, smiled for far too many cameras and screaming fans, the excitement quickly receded into a dull, grey monotony. At the time, Viktor failed to see how he was quickly becoming a soulless, mindless robot who smiled prettily for the cameras with a gold medal in hand, but now, the truth is glaring right in front of his eyes.
And frankly, Viktor hates his fame.
Perhaps it is extremely ironic that as Katsuki reaches for the top, Viktor’s greatest desire is to free-fall back down the bottom. He has seen what it is like at the summit, and he loathes it. Everyone harps about reaching the top, but no one talks about how lonely it is up there. How it quickly becomes boring at the top, because everyone else is stuck below, clamouring and fighting each other to ascend.
Viktor misses what it means to be normal, completely ordinary. He yearns to be able to go about his day without being hounded by fans and paparazzi, cameras and phones shoved into his face, and pleas for autographs ringing in his ears. He wishes he could fade into obscurity, where he can enjoy every day as it is with Makkachin by his side.
And perhaps…with a partner to call his own.
The realisation had hit Viktor with the force of an Aeroflot plane crashing earlier.
He is lonely.
While he is not physically isolated, since he sees his rinkmates and Yakov on a nearly daily basis, and his loyal Makkachin is always by his side when at home, there are only two occupants inside his apartment - himself and Makkachin. And while his loyal poodle will always be a source of comfort for him whenever things get especially bad, a dog is not quite the same as a fellow human.
But he is the Living Legend, and finding a partner who genuinely loves him is many times harder.
Viktor could already envision a never-ending queue of people lining up for the chance to be his partner. And he knows that none of them are in it for genuine reasons. They only want it for the prestige, the bragging rights of being the Living Legend’s partner. Completely out of selfishness and greed, leaving him to suffer even more.
No.
His partner needs to be genuine. They (or rather, preferably
he
) need to share his heart, to genuinely love him for who he really is, as Viktor Nikiforov, and not the Living Legend. Their feelings towards him cannot be attributed towards his legendary status, it has to be only towards his heart and soul.
But where can he start?
Viktor glances to the screen, as Katsuki executes his successful quadruple flip jump for the nth time. It may seem extremely far-fetched, even outright impossible, given their very different circumstances and positions. But… maybe Katsuki?
If not a partner (Katsuki is only 14 years old, and Viktor’s 18. He is not a paedophile, dammit!), then maybe as a friend first?
Come to think of it, who can Viktor really count as a friend within his (human) social circle?
Yakov would vehemently deny himself as a friend. Georgi is still too new and too caught up in whatever dramatic phase he is currently going through. Lilia would scoff at him should he ever broach the topic. And definitely not his press manager or the FFKKR officials he deals with on a regular basis.
Chris might be the closest he has ever got to being a friend, but with the Swiss skater still in the Juniors division, and their widely varying schedules and timezones, it has been extremely difficult to keep in contact with each other.
…
…
Wow, he really does have no friends, huh?
Viktor sighs loudly, throwing his head back against the top of the sofa, prompting Makkachin, who up until that point had been staring intensely at the screen (for some reason…), to turn to him in confusion.
“I’m really pathetic, huh Makka?” Viktor groans, “What on earth am I supposed to do?”
The poodle whines, shifting to lick Viktor on the chin.
He sighs, sitting upright again, “There must be something…”
Silence follows for several moments.
And then, a light bulb pings alight above Viktor’s head.
‘That’s it! I’ve got it!”
Makkachin tilts his head, as Viktor jumps to his feet, and begins pacing around the room.
“Katsuki should be qualifying for the JGPF in December,” he mutters to himself, “This year will be held in Poland…I need to know the exact dates.”
Viktor speedwalks back to his laptop, Makkachin immediately budging over to give him space to sit down. He closes the YouTube page, and Googles when the junior grand prix final will be held in Poland. A quick search immediately gives him a series of dates.
“December 6th to the 9th…” Viktor gets up to pace around again, “The seniors GPF will be from the 13th to the 16th. Technically, it is feasible…”
Makkachin gazes at his owner with curiosity.
After a few minutes of muttering to himself, Viktor looks up with a determined gleam in his eyes, “Whatever. Nothing will stop me from going to Poland! I just need to get there without being harassed. Now… what should I do…”
To Be Continued.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
To put things simply, the past few months have been…
wild
, for lack of a better term.
Although Yuuri had some idea of the level of fame he would be subjected to upon his return to Japan, even he was taken aback by the sheer
size
of the actual crowd waiting for him at the international arrival hall of Tokyo-Narita.
The closest he could compare with is back in his previous life, when he won gold in the Worlds twice in a row, and the furor that greeted Yuuri and Viktor in Tokyo-Narita escalated so quickly that several incidents broke out between more zealous fans, forcing security to rush Yuuri and his husband out of the airport while breaking up the violence.
That reception, though, doesn’t even hold a candle to the mind-boggling sight that greeted Yuuri when he stepped out into the arrival hall with his luggage in hand.
Immediately, he was bombarded with a seizure-inducing volley of camera flashes, and the subsequent screams and cheers nearly made his eardrums explode in clouds of blood.
The entire arrival hall was packed to the brim, possibly hundreds of people squeezed inside and with more pushing their way in. Many held up signs bearing his name and other celebratory messages, screaming for his attention.
Even with years of dealing with popular attention in his previous life, this level of fame was unprecedented and a huge shock to Yuuri.
It was only much later when he managed to get away from it all, safely hiding away in his bedroom with Vicchan cuddled by his side, that he could think about the implications.
In retrospect, he should have expected this.
This is his first-ever gold medal from an international tournament, and he is only 14 years old. It took far longer for him to bring home the gold in his previous life. And not to mention, he had already made waves by smashing one of Viktor’s world records, on top of already being the best junior figure skater in Japan. He should have expected the level of attention and fame he had brought to himself as a result of these changes to the timeline.
Once Yuuri had come to terms on how he had gotten himself to this point, his thoughts shifted towards what would happen next.
With his gold medal win in Vienna, the stakes were now higher. The attention of the entire world, not just his home country, would now be on him. Already, his name was plastered on news articles and screaming posts throughout Twitter and Facebook. There was speculation about whether this dark horse from some far-flung town in Japan could dethrone the Living Legend and take his crown. He saw debates happen
in real time
on Twitter with plenty of colourful language that would make anyone’s ears burn with pearl-clutching horror.
Perhaps, this level of fame and scrutiny would have caused Yuuri to crash and burn from the unbearable weight of expectations and pressure. And it would have, if this was his first life. Thankfully (though, highly subjective), he was living it all a second time, and had the chance to do things better. Even if the pressure and expectations were real (they definitely are), Yuuri was already well-prepared to face it head on.
And that was what he did.
After several back-to-back press conferences organised by the JSF, Yuuri trained relentlessly for his next competition, the
Pokal der Blauen Schwerter in Germany, held between 11 and 14th October. In the month leading up to his flight to Chemnitz, Ice Castle rink saw a huge uptick in visitors, partly to try out ice skating, but mainly to see him train. And these were not just residents of Hasetsu, people from all over Japan, and even some foreign tourists, flocked to the rink to watch him train.
At first, the Nishigoris tried to stop the gawkers from disturbing his designated hours, fearing that they would be a hindrance to Yuuri’s training. But Yuuri assured them that so long as they posed no physical or safety risk, and were kept to areas outside of the ice while he trained, the gawkers could stay.
Thankfully, no one tried anything funny while he trained, and come the time for him to fly to Germany, Yuuri was both prepared and ready to bring home another medal.
At the time, Yuuri had the self-restraint to not automatically assume that he would repeat his gold medal win in Chemnitz. He would be up against different figure skaters than the ones he competed against in Vienna, several of whom have won medals in previous years.
Plus, there was his old friend, anxiety, to factor in. And while his parents had taken him to a psychiatrist in Fukuoka during one of his rare off days, Yuuri still needed to clear his prescribed anti-anxiety medication with the JSF and ISU, a long, bureaucratic process that would, sadly, not allow him to take his medication to Germany. As such, Yuuri focused on maintaining a clear head and performing his best.
In doing so, he maintained a stony, unyielding front, which created the unintended effect of intimidating his competitors. Yuuri wasn’t aware of it at the time, but nobody save for Nishigori-sensei actually wanted to be near him. In fact, the only reason why Yuuri was aware of it later was because Chris had sent him a video taken by one of the spectators, showing the considerable distance between the Japanese skater and his rivals. The other skaters were glancing warily at him multiple times, and occasionally whispering to one another in clear uncertainty. But perhaps most hilariously, whenever Yuuri did turn in their general direction, the skaters would freeze up and absolutely refuse to look at him, almost as if making eye-contact would turn them to stone.
Yuuri had such a good laugh that Nishigori-sensei thought that he had finally snapped under the pressure and needed to be shipped off to the nearest looney bin.
Anywho.
Yuuri gave it his best, and pulled off an excellent performance. The only difference from his showing in Vienna is him switching out his infamous quadruple flip for a triple instead. He remembered that in general, junior skaters are discouraged from constantly performing quad jumps in fear of flubbing them up, or accelerating retirement through career-ending injuries.
(He might have a lifetime of experience, but he isn’t some OP protagonist who pulls perfect shit out of his ass like in some badly-made, Peggy Sue anime.)
Nonetheless, his scores were still good enough to bag him the gold, although he wasn’t able to improve the score that he set in Vienna. Still, this guaranteed his ticket to the GPF in Poland, due to take place between the 6th and 9th of December.
In the weeks leading up to the final month of 2007, when he is not training his ass off and dealing with the ongoing fame typhoon that had overtaken Hasetsu, Yuuri wonders whether events that happened in his previous life would once again take place here.
Even though he was only 14 then (and now), Yuuri still remembered watching the news, starting in June 2007 about two huge hedge funds in the US failing, which was followed soon after in August by the freezing of the entire global lending system due to losses from subprime loan investments.
In this current life, Yuuri did hear about those two catalytic events, but as he was busy training for the Vienna Cup, he paid little attention to the unfolding stories.
Then, as December 2007 rolled in, news broke that the US economy had slipped into recession. Yuuri knew right away that what happened in his previous life was repeating itself once more. This, of course, is just the beginning of the domino effect that would result in the 2008 financial crisis, which hit Hasetsu especially hard.
While the economy of his home city had been in the decline since the 1990s, the 2008 crisis exacerbated the situation and accelerated the closure of the city’s struggling establishments, including the remaining onsen resorts, until Yu-Topia was the only one left, but barely hanging on.
And while the “Katsuki Yuuri mania” had given the city economy a boost following his gold medal win at the Vienna Cup, it seemed to be only a temporary reprieve at the rate things are going. Yuuri isn’t going to be surprised that come 2008, the other four onsen establishments will shutter their doors.
But that is not for him to worry about now.
Come 1st December, Yuuri once again bids his family farewell, and leaves Hasetsu for the Polish city of Gdańsk with Nishigori-sensei. While the GPF is not due to start until the 3rd, this was a deliberate move in order for Yuuri to catch his flight without getting mobbed by screaming hordes of fans, as well as to give him a chance to recover from the time-honoured hell that is jetlag.
For the third time that year, Yuuri is treated to another viewing of a European landscape. While Vienna and Chemnitz do share similarities in terms of historical architecture and culture, Gdańsk feels like another world away. The historic Polish city reminded him greatly of Amsterdam, which is understandable since, according to a guidebook he read in the hotel, after the Second World War, reconstruction efforts wanted to do away with any tangible trace of German influence. Instead, the city focused on its historic ties with the Netherlands and northern Belgium (then called Flanders) from the 16th century.
Of course, Gdańsk lacks the iconic canals that run through Amsterdam, but the city is still beautiful in its own right.
Perhaps even more so, if it weren’t so damn bloody
cold
.
Despite growing up in a prefecture that experiences extremely cold winters all his life, Yuuri is never one for freezing temperatures (highly ironic, given the sport he takes part in). But winters in Saga prefecture don’t even hold a candle to winter in northern Poland. Despite having multiple layers and a winter windbreaker on, Yuuri still shivered incessantly ever since stepping out of the airport and only managed to warm up again once he and his coach arrived at the hotel. When the jetlag finally hit, Yuuri made sure to set the heater at the highest setting and cocoon up tightly in his bed in a valiant effort to not freeze to death before the GPF.
And during the times where he is out and about, Yuuri always makes sure to bundle up in a number of layers that may seem excessive to some people, but once again, it’s better than freezing to death. Plus, the woollen hat and scarf that he keeps wrapped around his neck and lower half of his face help to protect against frostbite whenever the wind blows.
Admittedly, it is not the most appealing look, pointed out when he meets up with Chris the day before the start of the GPF.
“You kind of look like the Michelin man, mon ami.”
“I’d rather look like a mascot of a tyre company than to become the human snowman,” Yuuri retorts back, voice somewhat muffled by the scarf, “How are you not freezing your butt off?”
“You forget, Yuuri, that Swiss winters are no joke either,” Chris points out, “It’s about getting used to it.”
Yuuri sighs, “Some people have all the luck…”
“Relax, mon ami,” Chris throws an arm around Yuuri’s shoulders, “when you travel more, you’ll get used to things!”
“No, no I don’t think I will,” Yuuri replies, sounding like an old man who knows the truth.
Looking at you, jetlag.
That, and his inability to acclimatise to freezing weather. Even when he moved to St. Petersburg in his past life to be with Viktor and Yurio, the infamous Russian winter was something he could never get used to, despite living for years in the city.
Anyways.
The men’s short program is due to start on the 3rd of December at the Hala Olivia ice rink. Understandably, as this is the pinnacle of the Junior Grand Prix circuit, the bleachers are far more full than in the preceding two tournaments which Yuuri participated in.
A small part of him wonders how much of the seat occupancy is because
he
is competing for the junior title, but Yuuri quickly dismisses that thought before it could lead him astray.
Once the draw is completed, and warm-ups get underway, Chris offers to help Yuuri stretch, something which the latter wholeheartedly appreciates. It also gives them the chance to continue their conversations from where they left off.
“You know, Yuuri, this is a bittersweet moment for me.”
“Oh yeah, didn’t you say that this will be your last juniors final before moving up to seniors?”
“Oui, and once that happens, the whole ‘race to dethrone the Living Legend’ will pick up once more,” Chris replies a little wistfully, as he helps Yuuri stretch his back muscles.
“Do people really think that of you?” Yuuri asks, groaning a bit when something pops.
“Can’t help it, Yuuri,” Chris shrugs, easing up and allowing Yuuri to sit up, “Before you came along, the world seemed to focus on whether the Swiss underdog would overthrow the Russian king like the revolutionaries of 1917. The fact that I could never do so while Nikiforov was in juniors only fuelled the anticipation. Then things died down when Nikiforov advanced to the seniors and I was stuck behind. Of course…” he gives Yuuri a considering look, “with you now tearing up the picture, things might be different.”
“Or, the attention could still be on you and Vi - Nikiforov,” Yuuri points out, mentally cursing himself for
still
fumbling over his (future) husband’s name, “while I fade to obscurity after making a complete fool of myself in front of the entire world.”
“Hey now, where did that world record-smashing, gold medal-winning Yuuri that I know and love go?” Chris raises an eyebrow.
“It’s realism, Chris,” Yuuri shrugs, as the familiar hum of nervousness rolls in his stomach, “I certainly didn’t expect to flub the quadruple flip jump in Chemnitz.”
“And nobody could have expected you to smash Nikiforov’s world record in Vienna,” Chris shoots back, “Yuuri, have more faith in yourself. You won two consecutive
gold
medals in international competitions, in your
debut year
. Hell, even I didn’t accomplish that when I started off. You got to believe in yourself, mon ami.”
“And what if I don’t?” Yuuri replies, in a self-deprecating mix of joking and serious.
“Then
I
believe in you,” Chris replies firmly, “And imagine that Viktor does too.”
Yuuri is rendered silent for a moment, “Surely not…”
It had been extremely complicated to dupe Yakov. The story that he had come down with a stomach bug that was particularly contagious might seem incredibly suspicious, especially just a few days before the start of the junior GPF in Poland. He had already bought a plane ticket beforehand, but the main obstacle was to convince his coach, and by extension the FFKKR, that he was resting in order to recover quickly in time for the senior GPF in Italy.
Thankfully, it seemed that Yakov had bought the charade, and in the early morning hours of 3rd December, Viktor Nikiforov slipped out of his apartment building in the dead of night, dressed in dark clothing, a hat and a face mask, and travelled via metro to the airport and flew out of the city towards Poland.
(If he had to bribe the airport check-in counter staff to keep quiet about his identity, then nobody else needed to know.)
Either way, he arrived in Gdańsk without much hassle, and after checking into a local hotel (again bribing the front desk to keep quiet about his identity, but moving on!), Viktor made his way over to Hala Olivia to spectate the junior short program, and, hopefully, meet Yuuri Katsuki in person.
However, he will need to be careful.
While meeting Katsuki in-person would be oh so worth it, what isn’t so worth it is for his cover to be blown, thus alerting Yakov (and the FFKKR) to the fact that he was not actually sick, and he had gallivanted off to Poland when he should have been training for his own GPF in 10 days time.
The last thing Viktor wanted was more people breathing down his neck and monitoring his every move. The average citizen in Russia is subjected to some form of surveillance by the government. His status as the Living Legend does give Viktor some leeway in terms of freedom, but he recognises the fact that just as he is the star of figure skating, he is also a star of Mother Russia, something the government will, ultimately, want to ensure that his lustre and shine remains eternal and untainted. Something sneaking away from training will undoubtedly be a huge ‘no-no’.
Still, when weighing between increased surveillance on his movements, and meeting the one person who saved him from the downward spiral he had been in for the past several years, Viktor would choose the latter any day.
Anyways.
Right now, the short program is about to start, so Viktor settles in for a performance that, he hopes, will blow him away to kingdom come.
Yuuri is going second, which helps the nerves a little since he will be getting this over and done with faster, rather than letting the anxiety fester into a full-blown panic attack if he had been made to wait while the other skaters went before him.
When the first skater finishes his performance, and goes with his coach to the Kiss and Cry for his scores, Yuuri gets up from his seat, and sheds his Team Japan jacket, revealing his white, angel-like costume with the billowy sleeves that everyone and their grandmother seems to like. He hands the jacket to Nishigori-sensei, and turns to Chris, who is occupying the seat to his right.
“Wish me luck.”
Chris raises a fist, “You got this.”
Yuuri returns the fist bump, and steps towards the rink.
“Representing Japan, please welcome Yuuri Katsuki, who will be performing In Regards to Love: Agape.”
The applause is absolutely thunderous, as Yuuri skates out to the middle of the rink. He closes his eyes, letting any conscious thoughts about the arena and spectators around him fade away. All but one, where he pretends that Viktor is by the rink walls, watching him like he did in his previous life.
‘Vitya,’ he speaks to his beloved, as the church organ begins to play, ‘keep your eyes on me.’
Perhaps it is incredibly ironic (although neither could have known it at the time) that ever since Katsuki stepped onto the ice, Viktor had not been able to take his eyes off the Japanese skater.
It was one thing to see Katsuki in his white, billowy costume on the television screen, but another thing altogether to actually see the real skater in-person.
And while he couldn’t get a good seat, because it seems that everyone and their distant cousins have gathered in the arena to watch Katsuki skate, the fact that the Japanese skater is really there, in the same plane of reality as he is, is more than enough to steal Viktor’s breath away and leave him teetering on the edge.
As the church organ plays a haunting, but no less melodic and beautiful piece giving virtue to the grace of unconditional love, Katsuki embodies the melodies filling the arena - innocence, purity, the truest form of love. The fluid and graceful movements of Katsuki’s skating, coupled with the enchanting swirl of the billowy sleeves and skirt, paints an allegory of an angel descended from heaven to spread goodness, peace and love to the mortals of the world.
And even if Viktor were to step away from artistic metaphors for a moment and focus on reality, Katsuki gives credence to his undeniable skill through his appearance and physicality. The Japanese skater wouldn’t look out of place as the principal dancer in Mariinsky, Viktor also thinks. Replace his skates and the rink with pointe shoes and the stage, and Katsuki could easily play Odette of Swan Lake. And beyond visual appearance, it is very much clear that Katsuki’s specialty, his step sequences, emphasises the years spent training in a ballet studio, and if not, a ballet instructor of considerable repute. Viktor briefly wondered if Katsuki had mentored under Lilia Baranovskaya like he did, but Lilia never did talk about taking a Japanese student.
But he is getting sidetracked.
Perhaps the main highlight for Viktor is watching Katsuki execute his jumps. While the Japanese skater would not be performing the infamous quadruple flip in his SP (which he changed to a triple in Chemnitz, to his surprise), a lot of the commentary that has surfaced in recent times had been focused on Katsuki’s jumps, something Yakov had forced him to go through. Viktor knows that the first jump is the double axel, a mandatory one for junior skaters. Katsuki takes off, does two rotations, and lands with the finesse of a swan gliding down into water.
Applause fills the arena, and Viktor eagerly adds to the noise.
The second jump, a triple salchow-double loop combo, appears to wow the spectators. Even Viktor has to admit that he is impressed. A triple jump, followed in quick succession by a double, is nothing to sniff at. Many junior skaters tend to lack the stamina to pull off five rotations with barely a second of break in between without fudging it up or twisting an ankle or two. But Katsuki once again clearly showed to everyone watching that his stamina is more than capable of pulling off a challenging combo.
And of course, the third and final jump, a triple toe loop. Katsuki does not stop his success streak and performs three rotations in such a beautiful execution that Viktor’s breath is robbed from him. When the Japanese skater lands with perfect finesse, the rush of oxygen knocks Viktor back with such force that he gasps audibly, prompting looks from those seated around him. Still, he pays them no mind, and joins the thunderous applause that erupts.
Katsuki brings his performance to a close, ending it by lifting his cupped hands up to the heavens, as if offering his blessings to everyone in the arena. A fitting pose to end an enchanting and ethereal performance.
The fourth wave of applause is perhaps the loudest thus far. Viktor eagerly joins in, very nearly dislodging his hat in his excitement. Katsuki lowers his hands, bows gracefully, and skates back to the rink door. There, he meets a middle-aged man whom Viktor recognises from the impromptu press conference in the Vienna hotel. Together, he and Katsuki go to the Kiss and Cry to receive his scores.
A hush falls over the arena, as the judges deliberate. Then, the numbers are released.
85.06
“Yuuri Katsuki has been awarded 85.06 points. He is now in first place.”
No sooner did the announcement stop, it was quickly replaced by an explosion of noise.
Unlike previous instances, Viktor remains silent, as everyone around him collectively loses their shit. If he remembered correctly, Katsuki’s record-breaking score in Vienna was just 0.02 points below his new score. That might not sound like much in terms of numerical value, but even a 0.02 difference further cements Katsuki’s rise towards the stars.
Viktor knows how difficult it is for most skaters to further surpass their peak performance, usually in the form of setting one world record. To see Katsuki break his own record, which he previously broke the one set by Viktor all those years ago, is not just painting a picture of the Japanese skater as an exceptional anomaly, but it further drives the nail in much of the discourse on social media about Katsuki being a one-trick pony who will inevitably fizzle out and crash when faced against the “real” competition.
Sure, Viktor hardly pays attention to the hot debates spreading across Facebook and Twitter, but he would have to be living under a rock to not be aware that they are happening in the first place. And in truth, Viktor hadn’t been sure about the general consensus among his Russian fans that Katsuki would never amount to the legendary tsar that they have unsolicitedly crowned Viktor as.
This performance has conclusively proven how wrong his fans are.
And while Viktor is far from religious, he gratefully thanks every deity in known existence for giving him the chance to see Katsuki perform in person. And it makes the thrill of meeting Katsuki up close even more palpable, something that he eventually cannot hold down any longer.
Even before the applause has died down, Viktor is already out of his seat and making his way backstage in the hopes of bumping into Katsuki. He simply
has
to tell Katsuki what a spectacular performance it was, and thank him sincerely for reigniting the fire in his soul for the ice.
Once the high has settled, Yuuri immediately makes a beeline for the nearest toilet.
Not to evacuate his stomach contents, thankfully. The call of nature cares none for celebration or mourning. The urge has hit, and he needs to answer the call.
Once he had performed his ablutions, Yuuri is just stepping out of the bathroom, when someone bumps into him, almost hard enough to knock him over.
“What the -”
“I’m sorry, please hide me!”
Yuuri blinks, immediately noting the prominent Italian accent. Looking down, the petite figure of Sara Crispino is desperately trying to hide herself behind Yuuri’s taller frame.
Sensing that something is up, Yuuri doesn’t question it, and helps to keep Sara out of view. With his back turned to the hallway, he senses people walking past. Once the footsteps have faded, Yuuri hears Sara sigh in relief, before stepping out from his shadow.
“
Grazie
, you saved me a whole lot of trouble.”
Yuuri blinks, a wave of nostalgia rushing over him. Sara is a year younger than him, the younger of the Crispino twins. Unlike the seasoned skater in her early twenties which Yuuri was familiar with, the barely-adolescent Sara still has baby fat on her cheeks, uncannily similar to a chipmunk or squirrel with acorns stuffed in its mouth. Still, the long, straight black hair and purple eyes are unmistakable.
Yuuri quickly snaps back into focus, lest he weirds her out, “Are you okay?”
“Trying to get away from some obnoxious wannabe,” Sara huffs, “He kept flirting with me, even when I said ‘no’!”
On point, Yuuri thinks. In his past life, Sara was (and will be) exceptionally beautiful, to the point that male skaters would constantly flirt with her, despite her constant rebuffs and eventual coming out as lesbian. Of course, the Sara of that lifetime had simply brushed off the flirts and propositions, even doing some light teasing and flirting of her own. But that was only in adulthood. Yuuri can’t imagine this Sara, only just entering adolescence and still navigating the waters of puberty, seeing flirting with the same indifferent attitude like her future self.
Anyways.
“I’m so sorry you had to deal with that,” Yuuri bows, “Boys are the worst.”
Sara blinks, eyeing Yuuri up and down for a moment, “Oh! You’re Yuuri Katsuki, right? The one who will dethrone the Living Legend!”
Yuuri rubs the back of his head, immediately switching to the persona he puts in front of fans, “Ah, well, I wouldn’t go
that
far…”
“No way!” Sara gushes, “You were so good out there! You might even beat my brother!”
Ah, right.
Michele Crispino, the older of the twins, and the fiercely overprotective guard dog that took it upon himself to protect Sara from, quote on quote, “insidious perverts looking to take advantage of his dear innocent sister”.
Yuuri’s knowledge of Michele is, admittedly, quite limited. They were acquaintances in his previous life, and were never close, arguably made worse when Yuuri went on his “hugging spree” and targeted both Crispino twins, resulting in both rage and cardiac arrest for Michele.
What Michele would think of Yuuri speaking to Sara in this current setting would undoubtedly be less than positive. Of course, since he is most likely to be up in the rink, probably waiting his turn to perform, Yuuri can take solace in knowing that Michele is unlikely to find out about what is going on right now.
Hopefully.
“Ahhh…I wouldn’t jump to conclusions…”
Unfortunately, Sara doesn’t seem to register Yuuri’s attempts at being modest. In trying to get the young Italian skater to tone down the gushing, Yuuri fails to notice someone else watching him from around a corner.
One second ago, his excitement about meeting Katsuki was sky-high.
One second later, it all came crashing down.
Because Katsuki is busy with someone else.
Viktor Nikiforov, Living Legend of the ice rink and a star of Mother Russia, is forced to hide behind a corner, gritting his teeth in frustration, as Katsuki is talking to what he presumes to be another fan, his back turned to him.
Dammit! He was too slow!
As the young girl gushes on and on, Viktor’s grip on the corner tightens, almost to the point of cracking the concrete from the sheer frustration radiating off from him. The longer she holds up Katsuki’s time, the less of a chance Viktor will get to speak to the Japanese skater and express his sincerest thanks!
He knows that he shouldn’t be down here. His choice of clothing, while necessary to prevent any unwanted attention, is now making him stick out like a sore thumb in an area which is off-limits to spectators!
His plan had been to speak to Katsuki for a few minutes at most and then get the hell out before someone spotted him and blew his cover. But with this girl, evidently having the same idea as he had, taking up more and more of that precious few minutes, Viktor’s hope to meet Katsuki is very much in jeopardy.
To any layperson who may have passed by this scene, it would appear that Viktor is trying to will the girl away with the strength of his glare alone. And in doing so, he fails to notice someone coming up to him from behind.
“And what is the Living Legend doing, in an off-limits area, spying on my friend, hm?”
To Be Continued.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
“And what is the Living Legend doing, in an off-limits area, spying on my friend, hm?”
Viktor very nearly shrieks in terror. He does, however, jump a foot into the air.
“C-Chris!” he hisses, spinning on the Swiss skater, “Don’t scare me like that!”
Christophe merely raises an eyebrow, “Oh? Then tell me, why are you spying on my friend like some paedophilic creep?”
Viktor splutters at the insinuation. Yes, his choice of clothing might not give people the best idea, but that is just—!
“Oh how the mighty have fallen,” Christophe sighs theatrically, “The Living Legend of Russia, reduced to a creepy paedophile who leers at underaged boys.”
It was clearly meant to be a joke, but Viktor seems completely outraged at being compared with some of the absolute worst of humanity.
“H-How dare you?! I am not a—!”
“Chris? Is everything okay?”
Viktor freezes, before slowly turning around. There, standing behind him, is Yuuri Katsuki.
Yuuri hears the commotion shortly after Sara thanks him for saving her ass and heads off to support Michele.
Thinking that there is a conflict taking place, he goes over to see what is happening, perhaps to gauge how bad the situation is before calling security. Instead, Yuuri hears Chris speaking to the other person, and his curiosity grows.
Turning the corner, he asks, “Chris? Is everything okay?”
The Swiss skater seems to be confronting someone who can only be described as…shady. Dress in black and grey, a woollen hat covering their head and a face mask that was currently pulled down, this unknown person (trespasser?) looks all the world like some drug dealer who uses the cover of darkness to carry out illicit transactions.
Never in a million years could he have foreseen the person freezing up at the sound of his voice, and slowly turning around, revealing the icy-blue eyes and the wisp of platinum hair peeking out from underneath the hat they sported.
It takes only a millisecond for Yuuri to realise just who this person is, and his entire world screeches to a halt.
‘Oh? This is interesting…’
Christophe notes this unfolding scene with intrigued curiosity. The moment Viktor turns around to face Yuuri, the Japanese skater very visibly freezes, and his eyes balloon in size.
Now, this wouldn’t be out of the ordinary in most circumstances. But Christophe had picked up several odd moments from his Japanese friend ever since their first meeting in Vienna several months ago. And this latest occurrence, with Yuuri visibly reacting to seeing Viktor, Christophe would have to be blind to not notice that there is far more going on here than just shock.
When Yuuri’s eyes balloon in size, the shock in those brown irises are not from seeing the Living Legend in the flesh for the first time. More rather, the shock is more visceral, more emotional, and more from seeing something one did not expect to see so quickly.
Taking that alone, it seems to Christophe that Yuuri was expecting to meet Viktor sometime in the future since their first meeting in Vienna, although in this nondescript hallway in a Polish ice arena, that meeting has been pushed forward far too quickly and soon for Yuuri to be prepared for it.
But, of course, there is more to it.
Behind the shock, Christophe sees the very noticeable moment where Yuuri’s inner world shattered.
And that usually has only a few meanings. But in this context, there is only one explanation for why Yuuri’s world seems to have collapsed into a million pieces.
In layman’s terms, Yuuri looks like he had just seen a ghost.
Which by itself, doesn’t make sense. Since Viktor is very much alive and many decades (hopefully) away from kicking the bucket.
And yet, Yuuri is here, looking as if Viktor had just risen from the dead.
There is definitely something here, going much deeper than Christophe can, perhaps, even begin to understand. But he is not going to pry, especially since it is in bad taste to dig into other people’s secrets without their consent. Hopefully, Yuuri will trust Christophe enough to one day explain these momentary slip-ups and out-of-place emotions.
Until then, though, he is going to back off. And, seeing that this moment is clearly between Yuuri and Viktor, Christophe decides it is time to make himself scarce, “I will be performing soon. Don’t cause too much trouble, oui?”
With that, he pats both Viktor and Yuuri on their shoulders, and heads off to the bathroom, where he had been intending to go before he noticed Viktor spying on his friend from around the corner. With his departure, Viktor and Yuuri are left alone, awkward, and unsure of what to say or do next.
Viktor inwardly curses when Chris patted him on the shoulder and walked off towards the bathroom, leaving him completely alone and vulnerable in front of the person who saved him the dark slump he had been falling towards over the past few seasons.
Whatever bravado and courage he managed to conjure up earlier has completely evaporated, now that he really was standing before Katsuki, dressed up like some weirdo (not a paedophile, dammit!). Whatever words he wanted to say to the Japanese skater, whatever thanks and gratitude he wanted to sincerely express, are now stuck in his throat like a particularly stubborn fish bone, his tongue refusing to cooperate with his heart, and his mind running a mile a minute, knowing that the longer the silence hanging over them drags on, the more awkward this becomes.
But seriously, how on earth is he supposed to get things started? He can’t just say to Katsuki, “Hey, I love your skating so much that I snuck out of Russia without my coach or the FFKKR knowing in order to watch you perform and then secretly meet you while risk getting arrested for trespassing to express my sincerest thanks to you for breaking me out of my depressive slump and reigniting my love for the ice.” That is beyond ridiculous!
And potentially creepy too!
Although, from the look he is getting from Katsuki, Viktor might as well already be some creepy weirdo to begin with.
Good god, how did things get like this?
Yuuri is seriously wondering if he is going to start sprouting wings and leave the ground towards the sky.
Pigs fly when impossible events happen, right?
There was no way Viktor (his Vitya, beloved husband, skating coach and duet partner) is actually here, in the flesh, in Poland, when he should have been in St. Petersburg, preparing for the senior GPF in Italy later this month.
If this was something else, Yuuri might have thought this was nothing more than an elaborate dream, or even a hallucination with no basis in reality.
But no, this is, somehow, very much real.
Yuuri has no idea what to do, what to even
say
. There was no way he could have prepared for this. For all that he has the memories of his previous life, he had changed history so much that the present reality had shattered. He had not consciously thought about how much his actions would irreparably change the course of fate before, but now, he is seeing the fruits of his labour.
Yuuri is very much aware that seconds are ticking past, and his silence is stretching along, increasing the awkwardness in the air. He knows he should say something, to break the tension forming between him and Nikiforov (Viktor, his
Vitya
), before the air becomes unbreathable, and he passes out (possibly then sprouting wings and then ascending up to the sky).
“A-Ano…Nikiforov—”
“Thank you!”
Yuuri finds himself losing his voice, as well as his conscious thoughts, when Nikiforov (Viktor, his
Vitya
) surges forward, and squeezes him in a tight hug.
For the second time in the space of minutes, Yuuri loses the ability to speak.
All cognitive capabilities shut down completely. The reptilian area of his brain, the only part that still functions, forces his senses into overdrive. The warmth of Nikiforov’s (his husband!) body wrapped tightly around him, the fabric of the woollen jumper that he is wearing, the strength of his arms squeezing him, and his chin resting on his shoulder, Yuuri feels each and every point of contact on his own mortal being. His heartbeat speeds up to possibly unhealthy levels, as his soul threatens to actually leave his body and ascend up to the heavens.
“Thank you,” Nikiforov whispers, although it is heard loud and clear by Yuuri due to the nonexistent space between them, “Truly, thank you.”
At this, Yuuri finds his tongue, “W-What?”
“You saved me,” Nikiforov states, pulling back a bit to meet Yuuri eye-to-eye, “You saved me from my self-destructive slump. You gave me back my love for the ice. I owe it all to you, Yuuri Katsuki.”
And once more, Yuuri loses the ability to speak.
He struggles to comprehend the words of adoring praise said to him by the man who, in his previous life, was his husband. Yes, Nikiforov is not his husband (yet) in this timeline, but the words showered upon him feel more like a man who has fallen head over heels in love with him (which isn’t the case as of yet), rather than a fellow figure skater.
And yes, Viktor had confided to Yuuri about experiencing a downward slump in their previous lives, but the way Nikiforov phrased it this time was over-the-top. Almost as if Yuuri is a divine being who has come down from the heavens to save the Russian skater from the darkness clouding his heart and mind.
Which is beyond ridiculous. Yuuri is no divine angel or deity, despite knowing what the future possesses.
“You are truly an angel,” Nikiforov continues to heap praise upon praise, “I am completely indebted to you. You are the light and hope I so desperately need. Thank you, sincerely, from the bottom of my heart.”
With his mind spiralling out of control, Yuuri splutters, “N-Nikiforov-san, what are you doing here?”
“I came to see you,” the Russian skater replies without hesitation, “You were the reason why I can keep going on. I simply had to see you perform in person, and meet you for real.”
“A-Aren’t you supposed to be training for the GPF?”
“Why train at all when it was meaningless?” Nikiforov replies, again, without hesitation, “But you, Yuuri Katsuki, ever since you broke my junior record, you have given me a reason to train. I have the motivation to face the ice, to feel joy whenever I put my skates on, to pursue that podium, and it is all thanks to you. You are my entire life, Yuuri Katsuki.”
Once more, Yuuri is rendered speechless, but for an entirely different reason.
Such adoring displays of gratitude cannot be faked, he knows very well. Yuuri is extremely sensitive to emotions, which formed part of the complex web that was the basis of his anxiety in his previous life. Back then, Viktor had been grateful for Yuuri coming into his life, and always expressed it to him at every given opportunity. The circumstances were different back then, but the result is still very much the same in the present.
And, perhaps distressingly for Yuuri; such gratitude formed the basis of Viktor’s love for him in the previous timeline. Now, such gratitude is being showered upon him relentlessly by Nikiforov in this current life, when just six months prior, the Russian skater had never even
heard
of Yuuri, let alone seen him as some divine being who saved him from his downward slump and brought meaning back into his life.
Involuntarily, memories of his past life, love and his husband begin to flood Yuuri’s mind. To his credit, he tries valiantly to put on a mask to hide his cracking heart. But Nikiforov, somehow, sees right through it.
“Katsuki? Is everything alright?”
Not wanting to give the Russian skater the wrong idea, especially knowing how Nikiforov struggles to deal with outbursts of negative emotion, Yuuri forcibly puts his mask harder onto his face, creating a more opaque barrier between what Nikiforov sees, and his crumbling heart within.
“N-Nikiforov-san, you f-flatter me,” despite the stutter in his words, he presses on, “I-I’m just a junior skater who looks up to you.
You
were the reason why I got into competitive figure skating in the first place. I-If anything, I should be thanking
you
for being the inspiration that got me to where I am now.”
Yuuri deliberately plays up the professionalism, even if it is only a façade to hide the growing ache in his chest. Despite the close proximity, Yuuri knows that Nikiforov is not in love with him, and the Russian skater shouldn’t be anyway. Even though the legal age of consent in Japan in 2007 was 13 years (it was raised to 16 in 2023), it is 16 years in Russia. Plus, with Nikiforov being 18 years old, it would count as statutory rape in the eyes of the law, despite Yuuri’s mental age of 37 years.
Time travel is pure hogwash in the eyes of criminal law, after all.
As it stands, even though Nikiforov is right in front of him, Yuuri will not be able to regain the husband that he lost when he was sent back in time. Not for several more years, anyway.
And besides, there is the whole business of Nikiforov not being in love with him yet. Love is a two-way relationship in Yuuri’s terms, and it simply cannot exist when the other half doesn’t return the feelings of the first.
Even with the man who was his husband in his previous life literally in reach, Nikiforov is still unattainable. Yuuri will need to bear the brunt of the next several years, furthering his name in the competitive scene, while also figuring out how to make his husband fall in love with him again when the time comes.
It only serves to worsen the pain inside his chest. Yuuri knows that he needs to get out of here, lest he suffers an emotional meltdown and creates a scene that only serves to raise uncomfortable questions which he is in no position to answer.
“I-I’m honoured that you saw me as the reason to keep going, and t-to be honest, you were the same for me t-too. I-I want to be on the podium with you someday. S-So please, don’t give up. You have so much more in the years to come. Please continue skating, and I hope to one day be as good as you.”
This time, Nikiforov is rendered speechless.
A curl of anxiety leaves a sinking feeling in Yuuri’s stomach. Did he overdo it?
“Y-You…what are you saying?” Nikiforov mutters, “You are already better than me.”
This prompts Yuuri to make eye-contact with the Russian skater.
“You are so modest, I can’t even believe it,” Nikiforov smiles, “Like, I saw your impromptu interview in Vienna. You were already modest then, but to think that you are even more so in real life. Do you…do you really not see how wonderful and amazing you are?”
Make no mistake, Yuuri knows that he has made leaps and bounds in the seven years since waking up in the past. But all of his achievements pale in comparison to getting back the husband and friends that he lost.
For the sake of his mental and emotional stability, Yuuri decides to wrap things up quickly, “Nikiforov-san, whether or not your praise for me will still stand in the coming years, I-I just want you to know, you are more than the Living Legend. You are an inspiration to so many people like myself. Please don’t give up, and I promise to keep working to be like you, so that we can share the podium someday. And…” Yuuri swallows, “please
never
cut your hair. Keep it long. Y-You…look even more beautiful with your hair in a ponytail, especially on the ice.”
Perhaps he is running his mouth by this point, but this is equally important for Yuuri. The Viktor he knew and loved, short hair and everything, is gone. He can’t do anything to get back the life he once had. There is only Nikiforov, who still has his long hair and hasn’t been wracked by apathy and depression to the point that he sliced off his hair beyond the nape.
And, maybe Yuuri is being selfish, but the thought of Nikiforov cutting off his hair and inadvertently reminding Yuuri of the husband he lost is simply too much to bear. The least he can afford to himself is to give his (hopefully future) husband a new look, a clean break from what was before, starting afresh in the life he now is living through.
Thankfully, it seems that Nikiforov is oblivious to Yuuri’s inner turmoil. The Living Legend flashes a bright, if a little bemused smile, “Anything for you!”
Which is all that Yuuri needs, for now.
At this moment, though, he needs to get out of here, before his splintering heart gives out entirely.
“T-Thank you. U-Um, I need to get going. My coach must be wondering where I’m at. P-Please excuse me, Nikiforov-san. And it was an honour to meet you in-person!”
Yuuri hurriedly bows to the Russian skater, and makes a quick exit. He makes sure to put a respectable distance between himself and Nikiforov, before coming to a staggered stop, and releasing the suffocating breath he had been holding in.
In the nondescript corridor he now finds himself in, Yuuri sinks to his feet, clutching at his heart in order to will it, through sheer force, to calm down.
He knows that he did the right thing, but oftentimes, the right thing can still be the most painful thing ever. His heart, and his emotions, will never acknowledge why he had to do what he did. Why he didn’t immediately claim back his husband when he was
right there
, just within arms-length from him. His heart will never understand why Yuuri did not take his husband back.
Love is truly a double-edged sword. One that can bring immense joy, but also indescribable agony.
Right now, Yuuri will have to hold on to that agony, for the next several years at the very least. Make no mistake, his ultimate goal of reclaiming his husband has not wavered. But in order to be successful, Yuuri will need to subject himself to the agonising experience of waiting.
Waiting for the appropriate time to forge a romantic relationship with Nikiforov, while holding in the biggest secret anyone could possibly guard in their mortal existence.
It is going to be torture. Especially now that Nikiforov knows who he is. But, for the sake of love, and a future where he can be happy and whole again, Yuuri will grit his teeth and power forward, however long it will take.
He had been given a second chance, and with their fateful, unplanned meeting, the time has come for Yuuri to remake history, even if he has to hurt over and over in the process.
Long after Katsuki has departed, Viktor is left standing in the corridor, completely silent.
To anyone who might have passed by, they would have grown concerned about this strangely-dressed young man just staring into thin air, not moving, as if he had gone into catatonic shock.
Thankfully, Viktor allayed the fears of any would-be concerned passers-by by snapping out of his trance, courtesy of a red flush flooding across his cheeks. He sucks in a deep breath, and very slowly exhales. He then turns around, and walks towards a wall.
Resting his forehead against the wall, Viktor takes a moment to register what he just went through.
This was… more than he expected.
There are too many words that he could use to describe the experience he just had. But to put it simply…
Yuuri Katsuki is
amazing
.
His heart races uncontrollably, and Viktor finds himself breathless, but in a good sort of way. He is truly glad that he snuck out of Russia and made his way to Poland just to see the Japanese skater perform. And yes, despite the little hiccups with Chris beforehand, it had all been worth it in the end.
Nothing can break this feeling of euphoria coursing through his soul—
His phone rings.
Acting on instinct, Viktor whips it out and answers the incoming call.
“Hello?”
“Vitya! Why the fuck are you in Poland?!”
To Be Continued.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
2007 rolls off the stage, and with that, 2008 takes its place. And the world has gone down the toilet. With the new year, the global economy continues to deteriorate, and come September 2008, the Lehman Brothers bank in the US files for bankruptcy, plunging the world into the biggest financial crisis since the Great Depression of 1929. The knock-on effects spread across the globe like an economic tsunami. Even the relatively small city of Hasetsu in Japan is not spared. The city’s economy, just like with the rest of the country, plunges down the void. The brief spike in tourism and the subsequent boost to the local economy following Yuuri’s Vienna Cup win back in 2007 have become a distant memory. Yuuri himself sees history repeat itself with his own eyes. Shops and businesses that once operated in Hasetsu shutter their doors for the final time. Several more of the remaining onsen resorts close down permanently, and unemployment steadily creeps up. Elsewhere in Japan, the national GDP rate plummets, even more so than in the US. Exports fall, impacted by economic uncertainties and cutback in purchases by foreign markets. The trade dependence on imports from mainly western countries further compounded the fallout brought upon by the recession. Back home, Yuuri’s family weathers through the crisis as best as they can. The Katsukis are lucky, in a sense, that they had the foresight to anticipate unexpected economic and financial shocks. When they saw the economy wavering in late 2007 and early 2008, both Hiroko and Toshiya cut the family expenditures, as well as that of their business. While the latter did, naturally, impact the onsen’s profit margins, pushing things dangerously close to the red, it was ultimately what saved Yu-Topia from going under and shutting down permanently. Still, it was a little unnerving how quiet the establishment has become. The banquet hall now only has a smattering of people, a far cry from the day that he won the Vienna Cup, and even many of the rooms have been locked up so as to reduce the utilities bill. That said, despite the economic gloom hanging over the entire country—an unwelcome reminder of the 90s when the bubble burst and plunged Japan into an economic slump that it would never fully recover from—Yuuri is focused on other priorities. Incidentally, of the economic kind. While the stock market has all but collapsed, Yuuri sees an opportunity to start earning passive income, a buzz term only minted a decade or so from now. With stocks dirt cheap, Yuuri begins investing some of his prize money from winning the Vienna Cup, the Pokal der Blauen Schwerter, and the Junior GPF in Poland (yes, he did win it in the end, despite the emotional hiccup from his inadvertent meeting with Nikiforov), into companies which he knows, from general memory, will see their share prices increase in the recovery years and subsequently in the next two decades. Big names like Apple, which had just launched the first model of the iPhone in June 2007, and Tesla, of electric car and Elon Musk’s claim to fame. There is even Bitcoin, the pandora’s box of the unpredictable monster that is cryptocurrency, which while not yet introduced until 2009, is also one of Yuuri’s future investments. Of course, being 15 years of age, Yuuri cannot legally open a trading account under Japanese law. He roped in his sister, Mari, to open a trading account since she is of the age of majority. While she had been wary and suspicious of the idea of setting up an account for stock trading, especially in the current economic climate, Yuuri convinced her with two simple reasons. First, any earnings they get from dividends and selling of shares can help to supplement the income of Yu-Topia, and second, she could use a portion of the earnings on whatever she wanted, or more specifically, merch of her favourite band. (Yuuri remembers that uncharacteristic moment in the previous timeline when Mari broke out of her typical laid-back and indifferent personality to loudly fangirl over Yurio, supposedly because he looks like Takao, her favourite member of the rock band whose name he can’t remember for the life of him.) Mari was sold on it, right there and then. After a bit more negotiation on the percentage of the earnings she would receive, a trading account is set up in secret, unbeknownst to their parents. Also, Yuuri didn’t go crazy with pouring money into stock trading. Not only would it increase suspicion with his parents, but it will also put him in deep trouble with the law. Just like with the whole potential statutory rape implication for Viktor in Russia, the law which tackles financial crimes like insider trading would not accept “time travel” as an appropriate defence if he was caught. Yuuri can’t afford to tick off the Japan Exchange Group and the police with suspicious splurges on company shares during this economic downturn, so he has to ensure that whatever investments he makes are discreet and within the scope of reasonable doubt. Plus, there is his own savings account to keep full, especially, given the sizable amount he won from all three competitions prior to 2008. His parents would immediately become suspicious if they receive a notification from the bank that his current savings account is at risk of being closed because of a lack of funds. Dubious legalities and philosophical moral debates about economic acts aside, there is another part of life that Yuuri has to contend with. In 2008, he was 15, and students of that age usually begin high school, a time of hormones, debatable maturity, friendships and romantic relationships forming and breaking just as quickly as the other, student drama, and most of all, lessons with varying degrees of boredom, homework, and exams. And now, he needs to do it all again. Fun. He just wanted to study for the test in three days’ time. But the noise in the classroom has progressively risen to unbearable levels, no thanks to his female classmates’ incessant chatter, punctuated by ear-piercing squealing and giggles. And it is all because of one particular classmate of his. “Ne, ne, Katsuki-kun is coming today, right?” “I heard that he will! Apparently it is a low period where he doesn’t have any competitions.” “Katsuki-kun is so cool!” “He’s so gorgeous too!” At the resulting sighs and dreamy squeals, he very nearly snaps his pen clean in two. It is bad enough that his classmates gossip about Katsuki on a daily basis, but to sit right next to him in virtually every single class, every day of the school week, save for the lunch hour? Nothing in hell can begin to compare. And, because Katsuki is apparently some shounen protagonist of some sort, his seat is right up against the window. Of course it is. Which makes even more infuriating for him, Nakamura Hiroshi, Katsuki’s seatmate, as following an excited cry from a girl several rows behind him, the entire class surged towards the windows, effectively throwing him against the glass. Well, they would have, had it not been for Hiroshi anticipating this incoming wave of excited teenagers and jumping out of his seat in time so as to not get bowled over and slammed into the glass, or worse, thrown out of the third floor where the classroom is situated, had the window been open. Thankfully, the window is closed, so all Hiroshi suffered was being pressed against the glass, something which he mitigated by pushing those who might be pressing against him too hard away. Unfortunately, it still gave him a front-row, unblocked view of the source of his many headaches. “There he is!” The boy wonder, Katsuki Yuuri, cycles in the front yard of the school, dressed immaculately ( too immaculately, in Hiroshi’s perspective) in his uniform, consisting of a navy-blue blazer, white shirt and beige sweater vest, complete with a red tie (done perfectly, because what else?) and plaid trousers that are of a matching beige colour with the vest. Katsuki swings into the bicycle shed, and hops off with such unnecessary nimbleness that Hiroshi thinks that, even when partially hidden by the roof of the shed, Katsuki expected an audience and wanted everyone to see just how much finesse he has, even for something as mundane as getting off a bicycle and locking it up to prevent theft. (It never once occurs to Hiroshi that such a move is merely a reflexive habit for Yuuri, and that “showing off” never even crosses his mind when he locks up his bicycle.) With a large (and presumably heavy) shoulder bag slung across his chest, Katsuki makes his way towards the front doors, seemingly impervious to the many eyes ogling him from the windows above. A sick, disgusted feeling churns in Hiroshi’s stomach. He shouldn’t be doing this. He shouldn’t be gawking and ogling at the supposedly god-like figure that was Katsuki Yuuri. There isn’t any reason for him to do this. Surely, there must be something imperfect about Katsuki, something hidden behind that clear, flawless skin that has somehow never been marred by acne— (Yuuri has a simple skincare routine that he does before going to bed, because otherwise, every morning will see him feeling sticky from his skin producing too much oil during the night.) —that shapely, flexible body that puts gymnasts and ballerinas to shame— (Simple. Years and years of diligent training that left him exhausted, aching and feeling mere centimetres away from death.) —and that infuriating confidence that Hiroshi knows must surely be arrogance, because why else would Katsuki think that he is above everyone else in this school and never interact with anyone, not even his own classmates? Another squeal punches at Hiroshi’s eardrums. Just before he disappears from sight, Katsuki runs a hand through his black, luscious hair, long enough to tie up in a low ponytail. And doesn’t that add fuel to the infuriating fire? Just because Katsuki is some shining jewel who brought prestige and pride to Japan in international figure-skating competitions, the school administration are bending backwards and all directions to cater to his every whim, including letting his hair grow longer than what is normally allowed by the rules. (Okay, Yuuri does admit that he is taking advantage of his fame and status in requesting the school administration to allow him to grow out his hair. But, as he tells himself, this is for the future, his eventual husband.) And never mind the fact that anime and manga stereotypes often portray male students with long hair as some kind of hooligan or delinquent, Katsuki looks fucking perfect with his long, ponytail hair. Something which shouldn’t even be possible. Not for a guy, at any rate. Like so many times before, Hiroshi’s traitorous heart pounds against his chest, almost drowning out the disgust churning in his stomach. It’s not fair. It is highly ironic that, the last time, people thought he was a cold-hearted ice king who saw himself above socialising with the ordinary peasants who were far beneath his gaze, let alone attention. This time, Yuuri can tell that the general perception towards him has not changed, even if the reason for it is drastically different. Previously, it was his crippling anxiety. Now, it is the difficulty of socialising with peers who are less than half his mental age. Heck, all of the youth lingo of 2008, and what teens got up to are completely alien to him, even now when he is physically 15 years old. The last thing he wanted was to stumble endlessly into awkwardness and faux pas like some old geezer trying to fit in with the “fellow kids,” so Yuuri just kept quiet, his expression guarded, and never interacted with anyone unless he had to. Obviously, this did nothing to earn him social points with any potential friends, but given his circumstances, it is easier to remain a loner and be a supposed “ice king.” And, it wasn’t as if he was completely alone. There is still Yuuko and Takeshi at Ice Palace, and Chris’ number has been starred and favorited on his phone for years now. Despite what some might think, Yuuri didn’t buy the first generation iPhone when it was released the year before. While he could easily afford it with his prize money from the three European competitions, Yuuri didn’t want to take the already tenuous perception his peers had of him and alienate himself further by being seen going around with the first smartphone in human history. And besides, his prize money has been invested in Apple stocks, which given time, will skyrocket once the economy recovers, and ensure another layer of financial stability for his family in the future. Yuuri is the forward-thinking type of person after all, not usually the kind to go for short-term frivolities, especially, given a few years or so, the novelty of fully touchscreen phones will wear off once different competitors jumped onto the bandwagon. That aside, he knows next to nothing about his classmates, and he isn’t going to make things even more awkward by asking his peers about their likes and dislikes, especially since in their eyes, he should’ve known them since the start of the school year. It was easier to talk to Chris than his own classmates, what with their shared commonalities in figure skating and dealing with mental disorders. Which is what Yuuri proceeds to do during his lunch hour. Finding a quiet corner away from the main school building, Yuuri takes out his normal, regular flip phone, and starts a call with Chris. He has to keep it relatively short, though, since international call rates are mind-bogglingly expensive. After a few dial tones, the call connects.
“Yuuri, mon ami! So good of you to call! I was beginning to worry that you have forgotten!”
“Chris, that was one time, and it was because I had to spend the entire lunch break convincing my history teacher that I wasn’t cheating on last week’s test.”
“Oh boo~ That teacher of yours sounds like a right whore. But you convinced her, didn’t you?”
“Yes, I did,” Yuuri sighs, leaning back against the bench, “Have I told you how much I hate school?”
“Many times, mon ami. That’s why I didn’t go to university. Don’t want to put up with all of that nonsense for another four years!”
“You say that now, but what about after figure skating?”
“Eh, I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.”
Yuuri has to give credit where credit is due. He isn’t the type of person to leave the future up in the air (especially given his circumstances), so he admires Chris for being so blasé about the uncertainties of the future and not fretting about what curveballs life might have in store. He wishes he could be like that.
“Yuuri? Is everything okay, mon ami?”
Ah. “Sorry, Chris, I just lost my thoughts for a moment.” “I know that feeling,” a yawn punctuates that sentence, “Haven’t been able to get my coffee yet.” “No? Why not?”
“My usual place has closed down. Woe is me, waiting for the bus at five in the morning, and not even a paper cup of coffee to get my brain working!”
“It’s just one more year, Chris. Then you can legally drive.”
“Too long, mon ami!”
“I’m sure you’ll survive,” Yuuri brushes off, “Anyways, can’t talk for too long. My mum’s starting to worry about the phone bill.”
“Ah, the bane of those who are separated by distance. Same time tomorrow, mon ami?”
“You know it, and also, I won’t forget.”
“I’ll hold you to that!”
The call ends soon after. Pocketing his phone, Yuuri sighs and looks up towards the sky. It is a clear day, blue in colour with just a smattering of white. Unlike the dark black of the early morning that is in Switzerland. He cherishes these lunch-time calls with Chris, even if they do contribute to a more expensive phone bill. However, it is a necessary sacrifice he has to make if he wants to maintain his (slightly) larger social circle. In his previous life, Chris had merely been an acquaintance, only getting closer after his relationship with Viktor began. Between high school and that time, the only other person whom he could say with some certainty that he was close to was Phichit, but as of now, he won’t be meeting the Thai skater until he goes to Detroit. It might mean little in the grand scheme of things, but he hadn’t really thought about the nuances of social relationships until he met Phichit and then Yurio and Viktor. It had taken him a while, but he realised that he had missed out on quite a lot during his adolescent years. Although anxiety and working his butt off on the ice rink were the main reasons, this second chance has given him an opportunity (in a twisted sort of way) to rectify that. (Even if the circumstances are still less than favourable…) And besides, this is something where he has some degree of control over and can actually do something about. Unlike, say, waiting until he is of the age of consent in Russia so as to not implicate Viktor as a statutory rapist. As it is, Yuuri will only have to wait one more year, but that is only the beginning. He will need to rebuild his relationship with Viktor entirely from scratch, working his way up until love blossoms again and is reciprocated. And that will take time. Years at least, if he wants to be realistic. But, Yuuri will do it. Eight years have passed since he came back into the past. It had been arduous during that time, and it will definitely be arduous going forward. But, eight years is still a commendable feat, and for the sake of regaining the love that was stolen from him, he will wait another eight years, and more beyond. He will do whatever it takes. Safe to say, Katsuki Yuuri is a legendary, almost godlike figure within the walls of Hasetsu Municipal High School. Eyes will follow him as he passes by, and if he is in a single, stationary spot, those eyes will linger for far longer than what can be considered necessary. The students who had the subjective honour of encountering Katsuki admired and awed at him, but only from afar. No one dares to get close to the godlike being that roams the halls of their school. There were a few who made the mistake in the past, and paid horribly for their sins. “Ne, ne, is that Katsuki-senpai?” “It is! He looks so dreamy, staring off into space with that thousand-yard stare…” “Do you think he’s lonely, just sitting there all by himself? Maybe we can go over and—” “No! You can’t!” “What? Why—?” “Shhh! Not so loud! He might hear us!” (He can, totally, hear the two girls, specifically the louder one who shushed the quieter one.) After being dragged to a safer spot out of earshot, “Okay, what the hell—?” “You don’t know the rule, don’t you?” “...what rule?” “Unless he talks to you first, never, ever , approach him. We can only admire him from afar, unless you want to incur his wrath.” “...what?” “Apparently Katsuki-senpai hates it when people break his personal boundaries without permission. Hana-chan learnt this the hard way the other day when she failed to be aware of her surroundings and bumped into Katsuki-senpai at the shoe lockers. I don’t know the full details, but I heard that Katsuki-senpai glared at her so hard that the poor wretch was horribly traumatised. He didn’t even need to open his mouth or anything! One look, and she was done. It was apparently so bad that Hana-chan had to call in sick for three days after!” (In truth, it was all a huge misunderstanding. Angle of perspective and trick of the light really has a cruel way of twisting a look of concern into one of contemptuous disgust.) “...holy shit.” “I know, right? Look, I know you probably have a crush on Katsuki-senpai. Trust me, we all do, even those boys who claim to be ‘straight as a ruler’ or whatever manly nonsense they try to convince themselves with. But for the sake of your mental wellbeing and sanity, do not approach Katsuki-senpai. Not unless you want to see your life flash before your eyes.” (It is a huge pity that this appears to be the general consensus among the student populace.) (Poor Yuuri. He truly doesn’t understand teenagers.)
To Be Continued.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
2010 was a busy year for Yuuri. Now at 17 years of age, Yuuri is well into his ride into the seniors division of competitive figure skating. Admittedly, going from juniors to seniors is a steep learning curve. While he had effectively dominated the juniors division, entering the seniors crowd is a whole other kettle of fish. While he had, objectively, been one of the best as a junior skater, now in the seniors division, Yuuri is effectively small fry. He is going up against the best of the best in the entire figure skating world, and his first-ever season as a senior skater showed. For sure, it’s not like he crashed and burned like what happened in Sochi during his previous life, but it was no longer a continuous streak of gold medals. Especially since, going forth, he will be competing against Viktor . The year before, in 2009, as the world tried to recover from the economic fallout of 2008 and the US swore in its first-ever African-American president, Yuuri began the season by competing both in his home turf and in the US, via the NHK Trophy and Skate America respectively. As expected, Yuuri brought pride to his homeland by winning gold in the NHK Trophy. But Skate America proved challenging as Chris was also participating, and the competition quickly became a contest between the two figure skaters on who will take home the gold. That said, it was all in good fun, with no hard feelings involved. Yuuri eventually prevailed and clinched the gold, but the distance between his and Chris’ score had shrunk considerably since his explosive debut back in 2007. Then came the final itself, held once again on his home turf, this time in Tokyo. The best of the figure skating world descended on the Japanese capital for the culmination of the Grand Prix circuit. Viktor, having just won the Rostelecom Cup in his homeland of Russia and Skate Canada, was projected to win the championship, although there was speculation on whether Yuuri would once again pull off an unexpected hat trick and dethrone the Living Legend right in his home turf of Japan. That should’ve been a cause for serious anxiety and nerves, and to be fair, Yuuri was nervous while waiting for his turn, especially since he was due to perform after Viktor. Chris, bless him, remained as a steadying, grounded figure during this stomach-churning time, and a much-appreciated bout of whispered encouragement and steadying squeezes of the hand helped to ease most of the nerves. When it finally came to his turn, Yuuri focused on giving his all, and impressing only one person in the entire arena, Viktor. Even when it was all over, and Viktor stood above him on the podium with the gold around his neck, Yuuri wasn’t disappointed, despite the clear evidence that the Living Legend still maintains his undisputed reign, courtesy of the silver medal around his neck. In the short interlude before the press conference, Viktor took Yuuri aside, and told him quietly, “You were amazing out there. I simply couldn’t look away.” “You were amazing too, Nikiforov-san. It’s like you found what you were missing.” And that was the truth. It was evident that Viktor’s performance had all the hallmarks of a rejuvenated artist who had found his lost muse. The technical components were no longer technical, robotic and lifeless. When Yuuri was not being suffocated by anxiety and watching Viktor perform, he could easily tell that the Russian skater was actually enjoying himself on the ice, rather than mechanically putting on a show just to win gold for the glory of Mother Russia. It was also evident that Viktor has been training harder than ever before. Viktor clearly meant it when he said to Yuuri that he had been the inspiration that saved him from his slump. The Tokyo GPF saw the Russian skater break his own records, elevating his status even further for the entire world to see. And while this could have easily been extremely demoralising for Yuuri, he has an entire lifetime behind him to not fall down that particular void. The fact that he had placed on the podium, and Viktor to once again express his gratitude to Yuuri via a stellar performance were more than enough for Yuuri to feel a sense of accomplishment. It also had the added benefit of helping him to deal with the media following the closure of the Final. Understandably, members of the Japanese press had filled up the majority of the room where the press conference was held, and more than a few had plenty of things to say about the supposed star skater of Japan failing to win the gold on his home turf. In fact, other global press outlets barely had the chance to pose their questions, as Yuuri was bombarded with thinly-veiled accusations of “not being good enough” and, according to one right-wing tabloid that he recognised for being an affront to the good name of journalism, “bringing shame to Japan”. Of course, such words were not outright thrown at Yuuri, but one would have to be both deaf and stupid to not get the underlying baiting. If those tabloids expected Yuuri to crumble, they were sorely mistaken. “Do I skate for Japan, or for myself? Maybe, in your minds, you think I should be skating for the glory of the Japanese nation. Let me clear the air once and for all.” A tense shiver descends upon the room, as Yuuri glares at the tabloid reporters, “I skate for myself . Yes, I skate under the Japanese flag, because Japan is where I was born. But I could easily immigrate to another country, and they will welcome me with open arms. Maybe the US, Taiwan, or maybe, Russia or even South Korea. I will willingly skate for another country, if Japan proves that it only sees me as a gold medal-churning machine whose only purpose is to smile prettily for the land of the rising sun.” Yuuri leans back, glare gone, and back to neutral politeness, “But enough about me. I suppose that some of you have questions for Nikiforov-san and Giacometti-san, no?” Finally able to breathe again, the established global press resumed their questions, notably focusing more on Viktor and Chris. The Japanese tabloids were silent for the rest of the press conference, although Yuuri knew without doubt that the headlines would be clutching their pearls in the subsequent days. Not that he cared though, as he told the JSF representative on the way out, “Tell your higher-ups to have a better screening process for future press conferences. If I have to deal with such tabloid trash masquerading as newspapers, I will not attend any further conferences. Understand?” Maybe he was being a bit too harsh to the poor woman, but he was already on the brink of a headache, and he was in no mood for sugar-coating words then. Though, it had the intended effect. When he participated in the World Championships in Turin, Italy several months later, there were no tabloid representatives present in the press conference after he bagged the silver and Chris won the gold, the Swiss skater beating him for the first time in this life. But he’s getting off-track. With the start of the 2010 season, and now 17 years old, Yuuri is approaching the age where he will be considered an adult in most countries around the world. As such, he figured that his skating theme is in need of a refresh. As it was, 2009 was not only the year when the US swore in its first African-American president. That same year, Disney unveiled its first African-American princess, Tiana, in the movie, The Princess and the Frog. While the movie was not without its controversies, Tiana’s song when she was envisioning her new restaurant called out to him, and Yuuri decided, then and there, that he had found his theme for the year. And so, when the season kicked off with the NHK Trophy in October, this time held in Nagoya, Yuuri unveiled his theme, “Almost There”. Gone were the beautiful church organs and the pure, innocent white of Agape. As Yuuri stepped onto the ice at the Nippon Gaishi ice arena in Nagoya, he was now decked in blue and black. Namely, the costume top is a sky blue, interspersed with streaks of white, almost like clouds. The collar is reminiscent of the yukata, secured at the waist by a cloth belt that is a deeper blue than the top, and lined with crystals and white sakura flowers. The sleeves are open at the ends and a bit loose, a homage to the sleeves of his modified Agape costume with their free, loose billowiness. And finally, his pants are a plain black, and also a bit loose to allow for maximum movement on the ice. Some might ask, why isn’t he matching Tiana’s aesthetic more with his costume? Yuuri will counter it by saying that he isn’t skating to her aspirations or about her story, but rather his own. His costume is an homage to his own experiences and personality, everything that is uniquely him . But anyways. Amidst the applause from the spectators, Yuuri skates to the middle of the rink. Once the applause has died down, Yuuri releases a breath, and with the beginning chords of the piano, he kicks off. Again, the ISU has not yet permitted songs to have lyrics, which, admittedly, does remove some of the symbolism. Still, Yuuri hopes that his skating will make up for it. And besides, he had been practising endlessly with the lyrics, so like it or not, they are stuck inside his head.
Mama, I don’t have time for dancin’
That's just gonna have to wait a while
Ain't got time for messin' around
And it's not my style
In the opening, Yuuri puts on a confident, almost-sassy air to his skating, projecting Tiana’s steadfast perseverance in working towards her dream restaurant, even when her mother keeps pestering her about grandchildren and such. Perseverance he felt he could relate to in his own career.
This old town can slow you down
People taking the easy way
Of course, he isn’t disparaging Hasetsu in any sense. Instead, this line was a reflection of how Yuuri could’ve resolved all of his problems had he just taken the easy way, as Tiana sang, by snagging Viktor’s attention for good during their first, unexpected reunion in Gdansk three years prior.
But I know exactly where I'm going
Getting closer and closer every day
As the music picks up and the instruments associated with the jazz genre take centre-stage, Yuuri’s skating becomes more spirited in tandem.
And I'm almost there!
I'm almost there
Yuuri makes use of kicking jumps and glides with arms thrown out, signifying Tiana’s optimism from being on the verge of achieving her lifelong dream after years of hard work.
People down here think I'm crazy
But I don't care
He only has to look at how Twitter is becoming (and will become in the future) to know how true that is.
Trials and tribulations
I've had my share
Isn’t that the truth, Yuuri thinks to himself as he glides across the ice in a camel split, his leg raised parallel to the ice.
There ain't nothing gonna stop me now
Yuuri lowers his leg, as he prepares for the first jump, a triple toe loop.
'Cause I'm almost there
With the toe loop being the easiest of the jumps, Yuuri has no problem pulling it off, three rotations in the air after a take-off from the back outside, and landing on the same position. Applause fills the air, as Yuuri dances along with the jazz in the musical bridge.
I remember Daddy told me
"Fairytales can come true
This is one of the reasons why he chose this song in the first place, simply because of how resonant it is to his current life story.
You gotta make 'em happen
It all depends on you"
Him coming back to the past is something out of a fairy tale, but in order to get to where he is now, he needed to work his ass off day after day, because fairy tales are just that, tales, which are nothing unless Yuuri works hard to achieve the happy ending that fairy tales always conclude with.
So I work real hard each and every day
Now things for sure are going my way
It is quite uncanny how the music speaks to him, Yuuri thinks as he lowers down into a sit spin before transitioning towards an Ina Bauer spin, showing off his core strength and flexibility, which he has consistently trained under the watchful eye of Minako-sensei in her studio.
Just doing what I do
Second jump coming up, a more demanding dual triple axel-double flip jump.
Look out boys, I'm coming through!
The triple axel is flawless, and just for extra emphasis, Yuuri kicks his leg out while he is doing the two rotations in the air, as if he is kicking down the doors or obstacles in his way.
And I'm almost there
I'm almost there
People gonna come here from everywhere
Strictly speaking, that has already happened, with the spike in local and overseas tourism to Hasetsu back in 2007, just before the financial crash of the year after. But Yuuri is looking much further ahead, envisioning a Hasetsu that is revitalised, given a new lease of life, a result of his legacy as a figure skater being cemented.
And I'm almost there
I'm almost there!
The second musical bridge sees Yuuri dancing spiritedly, a bright smile plastered on his face. A complicated choreography of twists, spins and glides in time with the energetic jazz. Then, as the song reaches its final phase, the music slows down considerably, and so does Yuuri.
There's been trials and tribulations
You know I've had my share
He thinks of his family, his parents, Mari, Vicchan, as well as Yuuko and Takeshi, who have stood by him through his own struggles and efforts. Supporting him and never giving up on his quest to make things better for himself and others.
But I've climbed the mountain
I've crossed the river
Then, quite unexpectedly, the music picks up again, as Yuuri reflects on his achievements thus far, with the returning spiritedness of his skating bringing forth his inner reflections for everyone to see.
And I'm almost there
One last jump, the third in his short skate, is coming up. The most demanding, but also to prove, once more, Yuuri’s place in the senior’s division.
I'm almost there
He braces himself, preparing to take off from the inside back edge of his right foot. He needs to time it just right—
I'm almost there!!!
Yuuri jumps, spins four rotations, and lands on the outside back edge of his foot, thereby completing a successful quadruple salchow jump. As Tiana’s ending riff punctuates the air, so too does the spectators’ applause. Yuuri skates around the rink in a final split glide, and as the final notes play, Yuuri brings his leg down, glides to the middle of the rink, and finishes off with a triumphant pose, hand raised up to the air. 89.32, Yuuri thinks to himself as he washes his hands, feeling quite accomplished. He had been incrementally pushing his SP score higher since his Vienna debut, and this time, he has done it again. The difference might be small numerically, but any increase is good enough in Yuuri’s books. He’ll allow himself a bit of respite, before his attention shifts to the free skate in two days time, along with the exhibition gala almost immediately after. As a senior division skater, Yuuri is expected to perform during the gala, but he already does have a piece that he will be performing, so he isn’t too worried about that. His focus is more on the free skate, which will play a part in determining if he progresses to the final in Beijing. Drying off his hands, Yuuri leaves the bathroom with the intent of meeting up with Nishigori-sensei and returning to the hotel for the day. As he turns around the corner, though, a ball of energy collides right into him. “Oof! What the—” “Katsuki-senpai!” Yuuri freezes. He knows that voice. Sure, it is of a higher pitch than what he remembers, but the energy and hyperactiveness within it has not changed. Of all the people that he knew in his previous life, there is only one who could possibly be the vessel of such energetic fanboyism that outmatches even Yuuri’s love for Viktor. Looking down, his suspicions are confirmed. Gazing up at him like he is the sun goddess herself, is an eleven-year-old Minami Kenjirou, blond hair missing the tuft of red that Yuuri remembers, nonetheless another telltale sign that he is looking at the younger version of what could arguably be his biggest fan. Yuuri manages to catch himself from sputtering Minami’s name, since they shouldn't know each so early in this timeline. Thankfully, Minami saves Yuuri from messing up, “Katsuki-senpai, you were amazing out there! You were like literally dancing on the ice! So cool, Katsuki-senpai!” In truth, Yuuri has no idea on how to deal with this overload of fanboying from the ball of sunshine. Even worse, there were people staring— Without thinking, Yuuri grabs Minami and drags him away to somewhere quieter. In the process, the excitable blonde seemed to ascend to a higher plane of existence, almost melting under Yuuri’s firm grasp. Now that they weren’t making a scene in public, Yuuri gazes down at Minami, who looks seconds away from giving up the ghost in a blissful haze of fanboy rapture. “C-Calm down, kid,” Yuuri tries to act incredibly senior and all, so as to mask any further slip-up, “You looked like you were about to pass out.” “I am your biggest fan, Katsuki-senpai!” Minami recovers enough to screech with pure fanboy energy. Those shimmering eyes and mouth wide open in a delighted smile, so much so that Yuuri could see the pronounced canines that defines Minami’s appearance in place of the absent tuft of red, “I’ve been to every single performance in Japan since your debut, and today! Oh my god! You were next-level , Katsuki-senpai! You were so cool out there, so much that you inspired me!” Yuuri latches on to the part where Minami had been watching all of his performances in Japan, “W-Where are your parents?” “I’m here by myself!” Minami exclaims, which nearly makes Yuuri choke, “My parents don’t know that I’m here! They think that I’m studying at a friend’s place.” Suddenly, the blonde looks a little uncertain, “You won’t tell anyone, right?” Pushing aside his shock that an eleven-year-old kid had travelled halfway across the archipelago just to see him perform, Yuuri thinks back to his past conversations with Viktor about Minami, how despite not really knowing how to interact with his peer and coming off as unsociably cold at first, Minami persevered on as Yuuri’s biggest fan, and how with time, Yuuri opened up enough to eventually be able to count Minami as a friend of sorts. That was then. Right now, none of this has happened yet. Yuuri is faced with a blank canvas, so to speak, with the freedom to shape their presumed dynamic from scratch. Plus, Viktor always encouraged him to be nicer to his fans. “I promise. Your secret is safe with me.” Yuuri even throws in a wink for good measure, which seems to do the trick. “Katsuki-senpai is keeping my secret! I am blessed!!!” Okay, maybe a little too well. Seeing as the young boy is on the verge of a fanboy explosion, Yuuri moves on, “You said that my short skate program inspired you?” That snaps Minami back from almost blowing up, “Oh right! I’m a junior skater myself, but I always struggled to find a style that I liked! But when I saw you performing earlier, it just hit me like a Shinkansen!” He swings his hand across for emphasis, “I finally figured it out! And I have you to thank for, Katsuki-senpai!” Remembering the swing music that Minami would eventually skate to in later life, Yuuri sees a major milestone taking place right before his eyes. For sure, he had no idea what inspired Minami to skate to swing music in his previous life, but right now, none of that mattered. In this current life, he was the catalyst that shaped the young skater’s decisions moving forward. … … Well, Yuuri figures that it could be worse. The abomination that was his Lohengrin costume comes to mind, which despite Viktor’s admonitions, still made him shudder long after that day. “I’m truly honoured that you see me as your inspiration,” Yuuri eventually says, pushing forth as much sincerity as possible into his voice, which seems to work as Minami practically exploded with joy and looked ready to melt into the floor, “And I can’t wait to watch you perform.” Minami seems to be going through whiplash at this rate, “You’ll watch me skate?” “Well, you’re in the juniors division now, right?” Yuuri asks, to which the younger blonde nods vigorously, “Then while I can’t guarantee that I can catch all of your performances, I can definitely do so when you become a senior skater.” Minami’s eyes light up at that, “We’ll represent Japan together, no?” All of Minami seems to light up, “Oh my god! Yes! Yes! Just you wait, I’ll become as good as you, Katsuki-senpai!” “I have no doubt that you will,” Yuuri grins, ruffling the younger boy’s hair, which makes Minami look like he’s about to melt again from sheer joy, “Keep working hard, and do your absolute best. One day, you’ll get there.” Practically vibrating, Minami thanks Yuuri for his time, and all but floats away, high from rapturous happiness and excited hope. Yuuri can’t help the satisfied sigh, knowing that he had changed another aspect of this current life, hopefully for the better. While the memories would likely never fade (given the propensity for the brain to remind one of their most embarrassing moments, especially in the dead of night when trying to sleep), at least there will be some newer, better memories to soften the blow of mortification. If anything, this was an unexpected, but definitely not unwelcome perk to a good day. Hopefully, with a bit of luck, the streak will carry on, as Yuuri takes fate by the throat, strangles it to death, and does things better this time. That said, he can’t shake the itching feeling that he’s forgetting something important…
To Be Continued.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
The day started off as an ordinary day in Hasetsu.
Yuuri went to train as per normal at Ice Palace in the morning, and returned home for lunch.
He is in the kitchen, helping his parents with the washing up, when, at 2:46pm, the dishes that he had already washed and had put into a rack to dry start clinking against each other. The overhead lamp sways slightly, and the running water from the tap quivers as it flows.
Yuuri immediately hears the clinking plates, and looks around.
Normally, this wouldn’t be anything out of the ordinary. After all, Japan is located within one of the most seismically-active geographies in the world, and small tremors like these often go by unnoticed by the vast majority of people, with a small number only sensing it if the room they are in is quiet.
But then, the date of the calendar comes into view, and Yuuri drops the plate that he had been wiping, which smashes into pieces in the sink. Pale as a sheet, Yuuri rushes out of the kitchen, thundering towards the main hall, where his parents were entertaining several guests.
“Mum! Dad!”
Hiroko turns around, immediately growing concerned at the sight of how deathly pale her son looks, “Yuuri? What’s wrong?”
“Turn on the TV! Now!”
Toshiya scrambles for the remote, grabbing it, and turning on the television set up in the room. The night before, it had been set to the local NHK broadcaster, and nobody had changed the channel since then. A breaking news broadcast is showing. The entire hall goes silent, as images of other Japanese cities, including Tokyo, and most critically, Sendai, rocks under the terrifying force of the 9.0 magnitude earthquake are broadcast live to the entire archipelago. Everyone watches in silent horror as ceiling panels crash onto the floor of a building’s atrium, supermarket staff run around desperately trying to prevent shelves of produce from toppling over onto one another like dominoes, and even a tourist in Tokyo DisneySea capturing the moment when a show was abruptly cancelled by the tremors shaking the park.
Yuuri vaguely hears whispers coming from the guests, but he remains silent.
He knows what he forgot now. The worst has yet to come.
Even as the earthquake finally subsides after six minutes, tsunami warnings are screamed across televisions and mobile phones across the nation. As the pings of incoming alerts fill the hall, Yuuri jumps to his feet and bolts out of the room.
“Yuuri! Where are you going?!”
He ignores his mother’s shout, bursting out of the front door and running down the street. He passes by several residents who, by now, would’ve learnt about the earthquake and received the tsunami warnings. He doesn’t stop, he
cannot
stop, not until he arrives at the beach, the same place where, in a life he lived before, he and his husband cemented their working partnership, and years before, he made his declaration to the universe that he’ll make it his bitch and do things better this time around.
His feet finally give out from under him, and he crashes clumsily onto the sand, panting loudly, his heart palpitating dangerously.
Yuuri grasps his heart, his breathing rapidly deteriorating into hyperventilation. His head is spinning, and his entire body is numb. After several laboured breaths, tears begin to form and spill from his eyes. He can’t stop, he can’t do
anything
.
Despite coming back from the future, Yuuri is not some omnipotent, all-powerful being that could drastically change the state of reality for millions of his fellow citizens. He can’t stop the Earth’s tectonic plates from moving, he can’t stop the resulting wave of water from being produced, he can’t stop the folly and hubris of mankind, especially those living on the other side of the archipelago.
He can only scream. He can only mourn and grieve.
He can only cry, as a massive tsunami smashes into Japan’s east coast, particularly the Sendai area in Miyagi prefecture. He screams and sobs like a wretched beast, as Sendai airport floods and entire towns and districts are washed out by the unrelenting waves of water. His throat strains under the broken wails for the many thousands of lives swept away by the tsunami, including an entire elementary school which failed to evacuate in time and is completely destroyed, resulting in 74 young children and 10 teachers dying when they couldn’t reach higher ground in time. And his soul crumples as the Fukushima Daiichi nuclear power plant suffers a catastrophic meltdown which, in the coming days, will result in the reactors exploding, heralding the worst nuclear disaster since Chernobyl, irradiating vast swathes of land that will force thousands to evacuate and leaving entire towns that otherwise survived the preceding earthquake and tsunami empty and abandoned.
Yuuri doesn’t know how long he is crouched over the beach, wailing and crying for the lives and livelihoods lost. He only comes back to cognitive sense when seawater rushes in under him, higher than normal.
Thankfully, as Hasetsu is on the other side of the archipelago, not only was the earthquake only minimally felt, but the rise in seawater is also a far cry from the massive walls of water which smashed into the Sendai area. Still, Yuuri’s grieving is abruptly interrupted, as his legs and feet are drenched by the water that floods the beach and makes it to the concrete steps.
From there, numbness takes over entirely. He remains still, frozen, almost catatonic, surrounded by a foot of water that gradually recedes and returns to normal as time passes. The sun eventually sets under the horizon, and darkness begins to fall over Hasetsu.
As lights flicker on across the city, Yuuri vaguely hears a loud voice.
“Yuuri! Yuuri, where the hell are you?!”
Slowly, almost mechanically, Yuuri turns to where the voice came from. His unseeing eyes fall upon his sister, Mari, and both Yuuko and Takeshi.
“Yuuri!”
The trio rush towards him.
“Yuuri, you bastard!” Mari curses and swears as she crashes into him, alternating between punching his shoulders and hugging him desperately, “You motherfucking son of a bitch! You had us so fucking worried, you know?! Mum and Dad are beside themselves, you fucking idiot!”
Yuuri says nothing, feeling the telltale splash of tears as his otherwise chill, unshakeable sister breaks down over him. He vaguely feels Yuuko and Takeshi joining in the embrace, though they, unlike Mari, are quiet, as their bodies tremble with relief.
“I…I’m…sorry,” he eventually croaks, almost inaudible and scratchy.
Mari eventually stops trying to break his bones, choosing instead to just hug him to the point of suffocation. Yuuri lets her, it is the least he can do. He just accepts the embrace from all sides, quietly sinking into their warmth.
The sea, save for the sound of waves ebbing onto the beach and Mari’s weeping, is quiet and calm, an irony of what is to come, as Japan reels from the deadliest earthquake and tsunami it has just faced in its entire history.
To Be Continued.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Thanks to the instantaneity of social media and 24-hour cable news broadcasts, news of the earthquake and ensuing tsunami that devastated the east coast of Japan sent immediate shockwaves throughout the world.
In the suburbs of Bangkok, two hours behind Japanese time, the social media handles of Phichit and his two older sisters begin pinging incessantly as posts and updates flood in. The siblings had been sitting down for lunch when the news broke, and when they reach for their phones to see what was going on, lunch is immediately abandoned, as the siblings rush for the television in the living room and switch it on to the local news broadcaster.
Phichit is stunned into silence, while Banyen and her older sister, Anchali, immediately burst into horrified tears as videos of the tsunami wave flooding over farmlands and destroying entire towns are broadcast in graphic detail. Hardly anyone pays attention to the reporting, with the broadcaster’s Japanese correspondent on the ground at a temporary shelter that was hastily erected to house survivors and evacuees.
Once the bulletin moves on to other related news, Banyen has a horrifying thought, “Katsuki…he’s in Japan -”
There is a mad rush for phones, and a desperate search for any information or news that indicates that Katsuki Yuuri was affected, or worse, caught up in the earthquake and tsunami. It takes some time, but eventually, cautious relief fills the room as it becomes clear that Katsuki’s hometown of Hasetsu is on the western side of the Japanese archipelago, where the effects of the earthquake were minimal and the town escaped virtually unscathed. Additionally, an announcement by the JSF revealed that Katsuki was at home with his family when the earthquake and tsunami struck, and that all were safe and unharmed.
“Oh, thank heavens, he is safe! Katsuki Yuuri is safe!” Anchali cries with relief.
The siblings hug one another, filled with gratitude that Katsuki was not harmed during the disaster. However, once the adrenaline has drained away, they come to a realisation.
“They need help. The Japanese are suffering. They need our help!”
Despite being over 4,800 kilometres from the disaster sites, the three siblings immediately jump to their feet. Banyen and Anchali begin rummaging through the kitchen and pantry, looking for any non-perishable canned goods and other food items that can be donated. Meanwhile, Phichit gathers any spare blankets from wardrobes, and afterwards, takes a hammer to a porcelain piggy bank where he had been saving up his allowance over the years.
Yes, these were his savings, but for the sake of Katsuki’s fellow citizens, who have lost their homes, livelihoods, and maybe even their family and friends, the amount he can give, however miniscule it definitely is in the grand scheme of things, will hopefully still go to at least
one
survivor who needs support in getting back on their feet.
It is a sacrifice Phichit, and later his sisters, who also pool together whatever money they can give, are wholeheartedly willing to make. After all, Phichit still has his family, his friends, and a home to live in, when thousands of others have lost everything. He was taught from young to always help those in their times of need, and right now, is no exception.
In Seoul, about 1,200 kilometres away from the worst hit areas of Miyagi, Seung-gil, like Phichit and his sisters, learns about the earthquake and tsunami from a barrage of social media updates, and almost immediately after, breaking news bulletins on Arirang TV and KBS World.
Incidentally, Seung-gil is on his way home from skating practice, a soul-sucking drudgery courtesy of Park Min-so, when he learns about the disaster that devastated the eastern coast of Japan. While it is usually courtesy to not speak on trains, with the news coming in hard and fast, shock and horror fills the carriage as ordinary citizens learn about what happened across the East Sea.
Seung-gil is struck dumb. He barely makes it back home, not even remembering how he managed to get back. All he does is scroll endlessly through images and videos, absorbing scene after scene of devastation and heartbreak.
His beloved husky puppy trots up to him, whining quietly, as if sensing his horror. Seung-gil lets his phone fall to his lap, to which the husky nudges and whines again. Tears begin to trickle down his cheeks, although his pouring of grief is silent and sombre.
Which, for the matter, such a sight would still have been uncharacteristically shocking.
Those who know, or claim to know, Seung-gil would say that emotions simply didn’t exist in his personal dictionary. But they would be wrong. He
does
have emotions and knows how to express them, but thanks to such an oppressive and stifling upbringing, such expressions of emotions are kept extremely subtle and passively.
If anyone had witnessed the tears spilling unhindered down his cheeks, they might’ve thought that the world was ending.
For Seung-gil, it might not
really
be the end of the world, but his heart is screaming in distress.
Truthfully, he always had an ambivalent perception towards Japan and the Japanese people. Yes, Japan committed horrendous atrocities when it colonised the Korean peninsula back in 1910 and during the Second World War, along with the contentious issues like the “comfort women” and the yearly memorial offerings to war criminals at the Yasukuni shrine, and because it was the indirect reason why the peninsula remains split in two today and the northern half still suffers under a totalitarian dictatorship.
But unlike older conservatives who still see Japan as some kind of genocidal monster who needs to make reparations and prostrate itself in apology until the end of time, or fringe ultra-nationalists who are probably celebrating and mocking the deaths of thousands in Sendai and other coastal areas devastated by the tsunami, Seung-gil doesn’t let the sins of previous generations taint those who are born and living today.
No, he
mourns
the loss of lives and livelihoods, in his own way. He sheds tears for the survivors who lost their loved ones and everything they owned. And he weeps when he reads stories of pets losing their owners and owners losing their pets.
And, as Seung-gil realises soon after, Katsuki Yuuri could’ve been impacted.
The one who changed Seung-gil’s life for the better, who gave him purpose and a reason to keep fighting the rebellion against his parents and coach. His home country had just gone through the worst earthquake and tsunami in recorded history. And, oh god, could he have been—
Seung-gil would look back at this moment and roll his eyes at just how
irrational
he acted, but the thought of Katsuki getting buried under rubble during the earthquake, or being swept away by the tsunami, was just too horrible for Seung-gil to even
imagine
, let alone consider.
He begins scrolling through social media endlessly, trying to find any bit of information or news about Katsuki’s safety or whereabouts. While Katsuki does have Twitter and Instagram (which Seung-gil follows, obviously), the Japanese skater
rarely
posts, if at all. And the last post on either platform was several months prior when Katsuki performed at the NHK Trophy in Nagoya, posing with his gold medal and with a pre-teen boy who, apparently, called himself “Katsuki-senpai’s biggest fan” in the comments section.
(The fact that Seung-gil screamed into his pillow in sheer rage and envy when he saw that comment did not need to be mentioned, thank you very much.)
It was a harrowing search, which thankfully came to an end when the JSF posted on their Twitter account, announcing that Katsuki was in his hometown on the other side of the archipelago when the disaster struck, and was safe, with his family, and unharmed.
Seung-gil literally
sags
into the couch from relief, to the point that even his husky is looking at him weirdly. Seung-gil is not religious, unlike his mother who is a devout Catholic and constantly pressing him to get baptised, but he thanks the deities of every major religion around the world for granting him the relief of knowing that Katsuki is safe and
well
away from the disaster zones.
That said, the relief doesn’t last long, as a sense of urgency fills Seung-gil’s entire being.
While Katsuki might not be personally affected, he might have friends or extended family members living in the disaster zones. And even if not, there are still thousands of survivors who need help.
He leaps off the sofa and rushes into the kitchen, rummaging through the cabinets and drawers, pulling out any canned goods and non-perishable items that can be donated. Seung-gil doesn’t give two shits that he is doing this all without his parents’ knowledge or consent. And it’s not like they would’ve consented anyways, given their rather conservative outlooks on life and disdainful perceptions towards Japan and its people. While they wouldn’t
celebrate
the earthquake and tsunami like some inhuman degenerates on social media, they wouldn’t be in any rush to offer help either.
And if this is another way to spite his parents and fuel the rebellion he is raging against them, Seung-gil would gladly take it with both hands.
Nearly 7,400 kilometres away from the disaster zones in St. Petersburg, morning practice is suddenly interrupted by a high-pitched scream of horror.
The skaters under Yakov Feltsman, including Viktor Nikiforov, all swing towards the bleachers, where one Yuri Plisetsky is staring at his phone, all colour drained away from his face, and his eyes wide with terror.
“Yura! What the hell was that?!” Yakov bellows.
“T-T-Tsunami!”
…
…
“...what?”
“Tsunami!” Yuri cries, “Tsunami in Japan!”
For most of the people in the rink then, while the revelations were distressing on their own, but for a select few who know more, it was as if a nuclear bomb was dropped right over their heads.
Viktor had been preparing to practise his signature quadruple flip when Yuri screamed. Then, abandoning all semblance of decorum, he rushed out of the rink towards where Yuri is sitting, followed closely by Mila. Yakov, and the only other skater directly under his tutelage, a teenage boy by the name of Georgi, are left standing, dumbfounded, as Viktor and Mila huddle around Yuri, faces exploding in horror by what they see on the young blonde’s phone, which is immediately followed by more screams and cries of horror.
“Vitya! Mila! What the hell are you two doing?!”
Appearing to ignore their increasingly irate coach, Viktor wails, “This is bad! This is bad! Yuuri could be dead! He could have died!”
“Don’t say such things, bastard!” Yuri screams back, whacking the silver-haired skater on the shoulder, “Katsuki can’t be dead! He can’t be!”
Mila is unable to speak, reduced to hysterical ugly-sobbing and incomprehensible sounds that attempt to form as words but failing miserably.
Yakov and Georgi stare at the unfolding drama with incredulous, blank stares for precisely five seconds. Then, Yakov bellows across the rink, “What the fuck had gotten into all of you?!”
That
prompts all three to go silent, as they turn, as one, towards their coach. Viktor takes it upon himself to explain, “Yuuri Katsuki could be dead! His country got hit by a tsunami!”
A beat of silence.
Yakov sighs the loudest, most
done
sigh ever imaginable, and pinches the bridge of his nose. Several other skaters behind him would later swear that they saw several of his remaining hair strands fall off his head.
“Have any of you idiots considered
checking
if Katsuki is alive and well?”
All three skaters blink exactly twice, before Yuri immediately begins searching Google, with Viktor and Mila leaning in close in nervous anticipation. Several seconds later, Yuri lets out a loud sigh of his own, but one of sheer relief and gratitude for everything holy. Viktor and Mila also collapse with relief onto Yuri, the blonde not even kicking up a fuss for the lack of personal space.
“He’s alive! He’s safe! His family is safe!”
The tension within the rink is cut, and those on the ice slowly go back to whatever they were doing previously. Yakov lets out another sigh, quieter this time, and barks out, “Alright, back to the rink, you three clowns!”
If he thought that his troubles were over…well—
“Wait, what if Katsuki has other family and friends living in the places that were hit?!”
That makes all activity on the rink stop again, and a few more strands of Yakov’s hair fall out.
“
Гавно! We need to go! Yuuri needs our help!” Viktor swears, jumping to his feet.
“Hey! Where are you three going?!” Yakov screams, as all three skaters immediately rush to the doors, without even bothering to take off their skates.
“We need to gather supplies!” Mila shouts back, without stopping, “Katsuki and Japan need our help!”
Without so much as a further explanation, all three disappear out of the rink, the doors flapping back and forth from their hasty exit. Georgi, and those nearby, will again swear that they saw even
more
of Yakov’s hair fall out, as veins begin popping all over the man’s neck and bald spot.
The volcano then erupts, as Yakov lets out the most frustrated, outraged scream anyone has ever heard him make up until that point.
To Be Continued.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Hiroko is worried.
Very much so.
Her son’s unexpected episode where he just fled from the house upon seeing the devastation wrought upon Sendai and the larger Miyagi prefecture by the earthquake and tsunami was concerning enough, along with the fact that it took Mari, Takeshi and Yuuko
hours
to find him, almost catatonic and numb on the beach, but the subsequent days since that episode only fuelled the worried flames within Hiroko, as she could only watch, somewhat helplessly, as Yuuri seemed to just… exist, for lack of a better word.
Yuuri stopped eating entirely, only drinking water and tea. Meals went untouched by his bedroom door, where he had just holed up in, never leaving except to use the bathroom. The only living being in Yu-Topia that Yuuri allowed in any close proximity to him was Vicchan, who seemed to have the uncanny ability to sense that something had fundamentally shifted within his owner, and
never
left Yuuri’s side, even in the infrequent trips to the bathroom. Yuuri also stopped all social interaction, effectively disappearing from the world entirely, whether offline or online. He barely talked to Hiroko, Toshiya and Mari, while the Nishigoris never received a word from him at all, having to speak through Hiroko to find out how things had been with Yuuri.
Hiroko, understandably, feared that Yuuri was about to become the dreaded hikikomori, typically men who withdrew from society entirely, holed up in their rooms and just doing… nothing. Never going out to work, never socialising, just hiding from the world. Yuuri seems to bear all the hallmarks, and it worries both Hiroko and Toshiya to no end, as this sudden and dramatic shift in their son’s personality and disposition came without warning, and it jarred the entire household off their beat.
Naturally, Hiroko and Toshiya tried everything they could to coax an answer out of Yuuri, to find out what happened, and hopefully, what they can do to help. Unfortunately, Yuuri remained largely silent, merely staring into thin air, or a corner of his room. His hand continues to pet Vicchan, but it was robotic and mechanised, devoid of emotion and entirely from muscle memory. Vicchan remains by Yuuri’s side, but even the small poodle whines occasionally, knowing that his owner had become a mere shadow of the person he once was.
It was as if Yuuri was fading away before everyone’s eyes, and there was nothing anyone could do about it.
Yuuri is no stranger to mental turmoil.
In his previous lifetime, and up until this point, anxiety and his shitty metabolism had been all he had to deal with. But never has he had to deal with this perpetual, never-ending,
numbness
. This pervasive darkness that left his entire world and being a dull, empty grey. Energy and the desire to do
anything
has abandoned him, living has become surviving, and he just…
…he doesn’t know.
No amount of logic or rational thinking does anything. He can’t reason himself out of this numbing darkness. He tried several times, but the result was always the same. Eventually, he just stopped.
It was too exhausting, making his already dwindling energy levels deplete even further.
He knows that he is worrying his family and friends to no end. He barely utters words to his parents and Mari, and his phone’s battery has long died from the lack of charging. He hears Yuuko and Takeshi asking about his well-being, but he just
can’t
bring himself to meet them. He knows he should. But his body, and his mind, refuse to cooperate.
For all his foreknowledge of the world, he was unprepared for this. He knows that he is sliding down a slippery slope, but again, no amount of logic or rational thinking does anything. Yuuri quietly suffers, as the weight of the world seems to just crush him into a million pieces.
For the upteenth time, his call is met with voicemail.
To say that Chris is worried is a severe understatement.
What relief he had felt when the JSF announced that Yuuri and his family were safe had long evaporated by this point, when attempts to call his friend continue to go unanswered.
At first, he gave Yuuri the benefit of the doubt. But when an entire week after news broke that Japan had been hit by the worst earthquake and tsunami in recorded history, followed by the worst nuclear disaster since Chernobyl has passed, and his calls continued to be met with voicemail that he all but memorised by this point, he decided that this
cannot
go on for any longer.
Some people looking in might think of his plan as impulsive, not thought out at all, and ultimately, pointless. They might argue that if Yuuri didn’t want to talk, he should let things be. He shouldn’t
force
his friend to talk, especially if Yuuri doesn’t want to.
But that is what he intends to do. While he could only guess what Yuuri is currently experiencing, his gut feeling has usually been accurate. And if that were the case, only the most bombastic of interventions will stop this spiral into oblivion before it consumes Yuuri entirely.
As such, when his latest call to Yuuri goes unanswered, Chris puts down his phone, boots up his computer, and immediately books the earliest available flight to Tokyo-Narita.
Is this impulsive? Yes. Will he regret it? Absolutely not.
Even as the conundrum that is her son’s inexplicable freefalling disposition continues to plague the air around the onsen, Hiroko still needed to keep things running. The only silver lining being that the onsen currently doesn’t have many guests staying over, meaning that Hiroko and her family aren’t being overworked between keeping the business running and trying to keep Yuuri from slipping away entirely.
As it is, with a spring rainstorm the night before, Hiroko takes a broom outside to sweep away the leaves that have been strewn over the paths leading to the main gate. As she opens the door, she notices someone standing there.
“Bonjour, madame! Are you perhaps Yuuri’s mother?”
Hiroko’s eyes widen slightly.
Despite the dark haze consuming his entire being, Yuuri knows something is up when his bedroom door opens.
“Yuuri?”
Wearily, he turns towards the doorway.
His mother stands there, looking a little uncertain, “S-Someone is here to see you.”
That in of itself is highly unusual, as up until this point, no one had actually
opened
his door. His parents had spoken through the door, but never opened it.
Through considerable effort, Yuuri acknowledges his mother’s words with a slight raise of an eyebrow, which then becomes considerably easier when an all-too familiar head peeks over her shoulder.
“Bonjour, mon ami! You had me worried for the longest time.”
“...C-Chris?!”
“W-What are you doing here?”
Bemused beyond all words, Hiroko simply pours some tea out for their unexpected guest. Toshiya and Mari watch the unfolding scene from behind a door.
“I’m hurt, Yuuri. That’s your response? I had to navigate the confusing mess that was your country’s train network to get all the way here! Did you know that your trains leave right on the
dot
? You won’t believe how many times I got lost because I boarded a train that I thought was simply early, only to end up in some faraway town on the other side of the country!”
And yet, Chris never removes the arm he has slung over Yuuri’s shoulders, which the Swiss skater notes with some worry, has become rather bony.
The Katsukis aren’t the only ones watching the scene with unsubtle attention. Other guests in the main banquet hall are also unabashedly staring, mostly with confusion, as the two skaters are conversing in fluent English, and most words simply fly over their collective heads.
Additionally, a few who pay more attention to figure skating competitions would recognise Chris as the Swiss skater who competed against Yuuri on more than a few occasions.
“D-Does your coach know you’re here?”
“Nope!” Chris beams, which makes Yuuri baulk with horror, “If not for the fact that I temporarily blocked his number, my phone would’ve been bombarded with messages and calls by now! Though, if it makes you feel any better, my family does know I’m here.”
That
does
make Yuuri feel slightly relieved. While undeniably a heart attack is all but inevitable for Chris’ coach, it meant that with a few calls, the poor man would know that—at the very least—Chris is alive.
But still, it doesn’t take away from the fact that Chris travelled
halfway
across the world to show up in Hasetsu
just
to see him, Yuuri.
“You had me worried, you know?” Chris says, tone taking on a more serious level, “I called you so, so many times. But you never picked up. I was really worried that something happened to you.”
For emphasis, Chris squeezes Yuuri’s shoulder. Quite unlike himself, Yuuri leans closer into his friend’s warmth, “...I’m sorry.”
The bemusement in the room only increases, as Chris also leans closer, brushing his blond hair against the crown of Yuuri’s head, “I know. I had my inklings, and it breaks my heart to see it really happening.”
By the doorway, Toshiya turns to Mari, “Are they dating?”
“No clue.”
Meanwhile, an old man sitting by a nearby table prays to the heavens, “Thank you, kami-sama.”
“What do you mean?” Yuuri asks.
“I may not have depression. At least, I hope I don’t,” Chris remarks, “But I can spot someone with depression a whole mile away.”
“Depression…?”
Chris squeezes Yuuri’s shoulder, “There’s no point in asking how it came about. It can happen to anyone. I had a great-aunt who had it, and well… what happened to her was what prompted me to go get my anxiety checked out.”
Instinctively, Yuuri knows what happened, despite Chris not actually stating it. He just remains quiet, listening to his friend’s heartbeat.
“There’s only so much I can do,” Chris continues, “but at the very least, I can be here and with you. Unless, of course, you don’t want me here, which would mean I spent thousands for nothing.”
That comment might’ve been made in jest, but Yuuri knows an offer for support and companionship when he sees one.
“No, I want you here.”
Chris’ hand moves up to Yuuri’s long hair, idly combing through the long strands.
“Your hair is so dry, and matted. Were you not taking care of it at
all
?”
“...too exhausting.”
Chris hums, before proceeding to sweep Yuuri up into an effortless bridal carry, causing the latter to yelp in surprise.
“Let’s get you to the bath, mon ami.”
Without even waiting for Yuuri to make a sound, let alone respond, Chris carries him out of the banquet hall, bypassing Toshiya and Mari without even sparing them a glance. The pair watch them leave, before Mari turns to her father, “You know… they just might be dating.”
To Be Continued.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
When Chris said that he was going to bathe Yuuri, the latter is quick to discover that Chris
absolutely
meant it.
Yuuri finds himself being carried, bridal-style, into the hot springs area of the onsen. A small part of him wondered if Chris was just going to strip him of his clothes and toss him into the water. But no, Chris took him to the showers first, stripped him off
there
, and carried him to a stall. Setting him down on the stool, Chris douses Yuuri with water, and proceeds to give his hair the long overdue cleaning it needed.
Throughout it all, Yuuri just sits stock still, eyes wide. He barely registers what is going on, even when Chris suddenly turned the water on and drenched him from head to foot. He
does
take more note of Chris’ fingers working the shampoo and conditioner into his long hair, but full cognition only comes back when Yuuri finds himself being carried, bridal-style again, to the hot springs.
At the very least, Chris doesn’t toss him straight into it.
He is gently set down into the water, and Chris sits down next to him.
“Aahhhh…” he moans, “that hits the
spot
.”
One might think that Yuuri’s cheeks are flushed from how
obscene
Chris’ moans sounded, but no, it was merely the heat and steam from the water. He has two lifetimes’ worth of experiences to thank for being practically immune to the more…
sexual
parts of Chris’ personality.
“Make sure the towel doesn’t touch the water,” Yuuri says.
“Oh, don’t worry, mon ami,” Chris assures him, “I read up on bathing etiquette on my way here.”
They sit in comfortable silence for a while, with Chris flushed against Yuuri’s side, with any semblance of personal space lost to the wind, courtesy of the arm wrapped around his shoulders.
“I still can’t believe that you’re here,” Yuuri admits quietly.
“You’re my best friend, Yuuri,” Chris replies bluntly, “I will move the entire world for you.”
Now the flush on Yuuri’s cheeks are no longer just from the heat and steam.
“I can understand why, mon ami,” Chris changes the subject, “What happened to your fellow citizens is unimaginable.”
“It just…” Yuuri swallows, though Chris pulling him closer is not an unwelcome move, “...I don’t know how to explain it.”
Oh, but he does. Yuuri can’t say the actual reason, though.
“You don’t have to explain it,” Chris, bless him, says, “The human mind is both a beautiful and deadly thing. We hardly understand it at all, let alone explain how it works. Sometimes, whether we like it or not, it just does things, and we can only resolve as much as we can.”
Yuuri feels tears brimming in his eyes. He leans into Chris’ chest, personal space be damned. And, again bless him, Chris simply nuzzles Yuuri’s head, a simple gesture that does more than what mere words can hope to achieve.
Behind them, at the door that separates the showers from the hot springs, Toshiya and Mari stare, unblinkingly, at how close Yuuri and Chris are acting. They are joined by other curious, or shall we say,
nosey
guests who have honestly no reason to be snooping in on what is definitely a private moment between the two young men.
Not that Toshiya and Mari even care that there are others around them, and especially not that old man who has his hands clasped together and thanking the heavens.
“You know, Mari, you might be right.”
“But what I don’t get is why didn’t Yuuri say anything?”
“Do you think he thought we might be against it?”
“Nah, Yuuri hasn’t been subtle about his love for Nikiforov,” Mari counters, “You and I know that Yuuri swings both ways. It’s just… Yuuri not mentioning anything seems really odd.”
Toshiya himself is rather confused, but before he could say anything, Mari suddenly lets out a rather uncharacteristically girlish “eep!”. Swinging back towards the hot springs, Toshiya nearly coughs out blood when he sees the Swiss skater leaning in to his only son’s lips -
“Thanks, by the way.”
“No worries, mon ami,” Chris nods, flicking away the leaf he plucked from Yuuri’s nose, “Sneezing into the hot spring is quite unhygienic.”
“W-We…we shouldn’t be watching this,” Mari stammers, cheeks flushed.
“Agreed, l-let’s give Yuuri some privacy,” Toshiya nods.
Both immediately push all of the peepers out of the showers. Never mind that they misconstrued Chris plucking a fallen leaf off of Yuuri’s nose as a couple’s
first kiss
, they
were not
going to risk getting caught by the pair and having to deal with awkward questions.
However, neither realised that in the few seconds that lasted between their conversation and them pushing everyone out, several guests had secretly taken photos and shared them with their families. In time, those photos with all kinds of speculation would be uploaded to the various social media platforms, preceding an absolute shitshow to come.
Some time later, at exactly three (3) different locations around the world, outraged screams erupt with an unholy vengeance.
In Bangkok, nearly 3,700 kilometres away from Hasetsu, Phichit and his sisters are just sitting down to dinner when their social media handles are inundated by a flood of updates and messages. When they check their phones, the entire neighbourhood is rocked by a deafening explosion of outraged screams.
“What is this?!” Banyen screeches, “What is this absolute bullshit?!”
“That slimy son of a bitch!” Anchali bellows, “How dare he corrupt Katsuki’s purity?!”
Phichit is too enraged to utter a sound, as his knuckles turn white from gripping his phone so hard, nearly to the point of crushing the device. But it is another update posted by one of his Twitter followers that promptly makes him blow his top.
“That bastard stole Katsuki’s first kiss!”
Both his sisters whip towards him.
“What?!”
“You’re lying. Tell me you are fucking lying, Phichit!”
“Look at this!” Phichit immediately shows them the offending picture, which seems to show Giacommetti leaning into Katsuki, as if about to kiss him.
The dining table falls deathly silent, only to be broken by the sound of chopsticks being snapped in two.
“I will kill that Swiss bastard!”
“Right behind you, พี่สาว!”
“I get first stab!” Phichit declares, having produced a kitchen knife from somewhere.
If it weren’t for their parents intervening and quite physically restraining all three siblings, Phichit and his sisters would’ve stormed into Suvarnabhumi Airport and hopped onto the earliest flight to Japan in order to defend Katsuki’s honour, laws and morals be damned.
Meanwhile, about 3,800 kilometres away in Seoul, an apartment unit in the upscale Gangnam district is shaken by a, thankfully muffled, scream of rage.
Only the dog looks up from the sudden noise, the parents fast asleep on the other side of the apartment. Behind a closed door, Seung-gil screams into his pillow in utter fury, the shattered remains of his phone lying in pieces on the floor next to his bed.
He didn’t care that he wrecked his phone, and it’s probably for the best anyways. If his phone survived and continued to show that damning picture of Christophe Giacometti
kissing
Katsuki Yuuri while in the latter’s hot spring, Seung-gil probably would’ve gone on a rampage and tore his entire room apart, which would get him arrested for being a domestic disturbance.
His pillow suffices in keeping him from going off the deep end, but it doesn’t stop Seung-gil’s rage from continuing to boil. When he finally stops screaming, Seung-gil lifts himself off the pillow, his expression twisted in a burning glare so poisonous that anyone who saw it would spontaneously crap their pants in terror.
“I will
kill
that son of a whore,” Seung-gil seethes, leaping out of bed.
Only his dog is witness to the sight of him storming out of the apartment with his skates in hand. Skating is the only known and tested way for Seung-gil to let off steam, and as much as he would like to make the short flight over to Japan and personally slit that bastard’s throat for
daring
to steal Katsuki’s first kiss, Seung-gil has enough remaining common sense to not do it now.
No. Not until he qualifies for the same tournament that Giacommetti will be taking part in.
Then
he will slit that bastard’s throat.
While Seung-gil is making his way to his training rink for a much-needed vent-skate, about 6,800 kilometres to the west in St. Petersburg, training in Yakov’s rink is rudely interrupted by a scream of outraged horror, so much so that Viktor is startled out of his quadruple flip in midair, and crashes to the ice in an undignified mess of limbs and hair.
Yakov bellows, “Yura! What the fuck is it now?!”
Viktor winces from the hard landing, gingerly getting to his feet.
“That Swiss fucker stole Katsuki’s first kiss!”
Immediately, Viktor whips towards Yuri, completely forgetting the ache from earlier, “WHAT?!”
Those nearby with unsubtle bemusement as the Living Legend literally runs out of the ice and barrels into Yuri, grabbing the younger skater’s phone to see it for himself. All colour quite literally drains out of Viktor's face, and he screams in heartbroken anguish, “Yakov, you son of a bitch! Look what you’ve done! You caused me to lose Yuuri!”
“The fuck?! Katsuki isn’t yours, dammit!” Yuri screeches, punching Viktor’s arm.
“I had everything planned!” Viktor wails, ignoring Yuri and running back onto the ice to shake his coach by the collar of his jacket, “I was going to comfort him! Show up at his home with roses and chocolates! Makkachin was supposed to be my wingman! I was going to romance him, propose to him, and then marry him! You took that all away from me, you motherfucking bastard! You stopped me from going to him, and now look at what you did! Yuuri is taken, all because you didn’t allow me to go to him!”
“For fuck’s sakes, Vitya! Let go of me!” Yakov tries to pry his best skater’s hands off from his collar, as more of his hair is lost from being vigorously shaken out of his head, “Vitya, you’re being stupid, get off!”
But Viktor refuses, descending into blubbering wails that are incomprehensible to those around them. Things only get weirder when Yuri declares that he will stab Giacometti with his knife-shoes, and immediately pounces onto Yakov, knocking him and Viktor onto the ice, demanding that Yakov take him to Japan so that he can protect Katsuki’s purity, as well as threatening Viktor that he’ll be the next victim if he
dared
to lay his dirty paws on the Japanese skater.
It pretty much devolves from there, with no one able to understand how this has become the
second
training session to go sideways from sheer madness.
Although, what is clear is that, come what may, Giacometti better watch his back, because at the very least, Viktor and Yuri are going to absolutely
murder
him in the next tournament.
And not in any way figuratively.
To Be Continued.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
While social media proceeds to lose its absolute
shit
, Yuuri is well away from the burgeoning clusterfuck and actually
living
his life.
Though, relatively speaking, living is more like gradually healing from the mental trauma and pain from the devastating events of 11 March. Thankfully, Chris is a literal
god-send
, like an angel coming down from heaven, unannounced at the front doors of Yu-Topia, and without any input from Yuuri or his family, becoming Yuuri’s live-in caregiver.
Even when Toshiya and Hiroko kept begging Chris to take some kind of payment or compensation for his unending work in keeping Yuuri alive and healthy, with the most extreme being Chris manually
bathing
Yuuri for the first week of his stay until Yuuri convinced the Swiss skater that he could now do so on his own, Chris kept refusing each and every time, merely stating, “Yuuri is my dearest friend, and I will move
everything
to help him.”
Now, with the sakura season now in full bloom throughout Kyushu, Yuuri’s focus shifts towards what he actually
wants
to do in the days to come.
Such plans would’ve seemed unfathomable two weeks prior, when the severe depression that plagued Yuuri all but wiped out any motivation or
will
to do anything but breathe, and even
that
was a major toil on Yuuri’s physical health. But a week of close, continuous care from Chris has brought Yuuri back to a semblance of functionality, and as of now, with both skaters sitting in a park as the delicate petals of the sakura blossoms paint a sea of pink and white across the land, the topic of discussion centres on what Yuuri plans to do, both in the short and long-term.
“The World Championships have been postponed,” Chris states, with an arm around Yuuri’s shoulders, “but I presume you’re not competing?”
“I have been thinking about it,” Yuuri says, “And you’re right, I’m probably going to send in my official withdrawal. I…I want to focus on healing and recovery before I return to the ice.”
“No matter your decision, I’ll support you all the way,” Chris grins, “Although, you withdrawing might be a huge boon for me. I could actually stand a chance at the gold this time!”
Yuuri knows that last part was made in jest. He can’t resist the chuckle, “Tell that to Nikiforov. He might see it as a challenge.”
They share a laugh at that, prompting more than a few looks from other park-goers and passers-by. With Yuuri nestled deep in Chris’ side, and said Swiss skater’s arm draped across his shoulders, they cut a stereotypical picture of a lovey-dovey couple enjoying the sakura blossoms on a clear day, which of course do
nothing
to go against the rapidly-forming perception of them as an official couple within the social media landscape.
“But in all seriousness,” Yuuri continues, “I might want to take the next season off. And in truth, I haven’t really been thinking about what I would do once I’m done with skating.”
It is the elephant in the room, ironic given the open space he and Chris are in. In his previous life, Yuuri continued to be in the competitive space long after the average skater would’ve retired from the ice, whether from a career-ending injury, going past their prime, or simply failing to stay ahead of fresh blood. Although he had his bachelor’s in accounting from his days in Detroit, Yuuri effectively remained part of the figure skating community, albeit as a coach once Yakov had lost too much of his remaining hair to the rink and decided to permanently call it a day. But that was a life he no longer had, a life that no longer
will
happen, because of all the changes he made in
this
current life. Although he still intended to pursue higher education, the idea of going to Detroit again and repeating what he went through previously… Yuuri isn’t so sure if it was something he was willing to commit to, especially after everything that has changed thus far.
“If I may suggest, mon ami,” Chris says, “You’ve done so much for so many people, why don’t you keep doing that?”
“How?”
“Ever thought of going to psychology? Delving into the mysteries of the human brain?”
…
…
…
He never thought of that, to be honest.
Mental health, Yuuri remembers, continued to be stigmatised in Japan well into his previous life. While concerted efforts were made by various governments to remove the perceived shame of admitting one’s personal problems to another person, most of Japanese society continued to view mental health services and intervention as shameful and unforgivable failures on the part of the victims.
Yuuri reflects on how he is one of the tiny minority who does not partake in this collective victim-shaming, likely as a result of how well-travelled he was, his time in Detroit, as well as his own personal experiences with mental disorders. At the same time, though, he never really sought help himself, not until he really got to know Viktor, and that was easily two-thirds of his way through his then, admittedly, short life before.
Now, though, Yuuri faces a blank canvas, so to speak. On the cusp of April 2011, he just went through a life-threatening bout of depression, something which even he has no idea if he would have come out of alive if Chris hadn’t shown up as he did. There are millions of people within Japan alone who are easily going through the same terrible experiences he did, even more so in the places ravaged by the earthquake, tsunami and nuclear fallout.
He thinks, maybe Chris’ suggestion is worth considering.
“I’ll think about it.”
Yuuri might not be paying attention to the shitstorm brewing over social media, but somebody was.
Admittedly, he had been paying attention to Yuuri’s exploits for some years already, ever since 2007, to be more precise, when the Japanese skater broke the Living Legend’s junior record. Intrigued by that unexpected development, he pinned his attention on Yuuri.
And he wasn’t disappointed.
Year after year, Katsuki Yuuri continued to defy expectations.
Yes, he has yet to topple the Living Legend from his throne, but Yuuri didn’t need to do that.
He saw the bigger picture, the effect that Yuuri brought upon the figure skating world by doing what was long thought to be impossible. Yuuri took a stagnating competitive scene and breathed new life into it. He can already foresee Yuuri being a terrifying force to contend with.
Then, the triple horror that was the earthquake, tsunami and nuclear meltdown struck eastern Japan.
It has been barely two weeks since those fateful days, and even now, the world’s eyes are still on Japan. Stories and accounts of annihilated and abandoned towns, utter devastation, traumatised survivors and the reported numbers of dead bodies found still filled the 24-hour news cycle and social media feeds.
But Yuuri was all but silent.
It was as if the Japanese skater had vanished from the face of the earth, despite the JSF releasing an official announcement saying that Yuuri and his fellow skaters were safe and unharmed. The occasional social media posts Yuuri did upload simply ceased. No word, nothing.
Except, that wasn’t quite true.
Someone else has kept posting in the past week, and Yuuri has been a central part of said updates.
Namely, Christophe Giacometti from Switzerland.
Somehow, Christophe is in Japan, more specifically Hasetsu, Yuuri’s hometown. The updates come once a day, and they are just snapshots of life within the town, with Christophe and Yuuri front and centre. But these updates are always greeted by a huge reception, and more often than not, heated key-smashing and, perhaps worryingly, threats against Christophe’s life.
But those are fans’ potentially parasocial behaviours. He would know. He has experienced them in years’ passed. Social media just gave another avenue for these fans to express their heated emotions and questionable decision-making skills.
If anything, these daily updates are a massive boon.
He starts a private chat with Christophe via Instagram DM, introducing himself and striking up a rapport with the Swiss skater, before putting forth the one question he’d been meaning to ask. He held back until this point, because at the end of the day, Yuuri is his own person, with his own agency and autonomy. Only Yuuri can decide whether he is willing to take up his offer, and if Yuuri declines, he will leave it at that, no further questions.
Christophe goes silent for a bit, but returns shortly with Yuuri’s consent for a meeting.
Very well, looks like he is going to have to book the earliest flight to Japan.
“Chris.”
“Hm?”
“Why is social media blowing up about us being a couple?”
“Because they are stupid? And because they lack the brain cells to differentiate between friends and a romantic couple?”
“Chris.”
“Yuuri.”
“You coordinated with me. You wore matching colours in at least
half
of the photos!”
“And I made it clear that we’re merely
friends
. No one seems to register that.”
Perhaps, if he was dealing with anyone else, Yuuri might’ve blown his gasket. But this is Chris, and despite sounding too
chill
for this situation, Yuuri isn’t going to go all Rambo on his friend. At least, not yet.
“You sound as if you’re stoking the flames.”
“You wound me, mon ami,” whether the hurt expression is real or not is immaterial, “I know that you’re crushing hard for Nikiforov. And we both know that our feelings for each other are merely platonic.”
“Yes, I know. But does Nikiforov know that?”
“Well, judging from the fact that he sent me
many
rambling, capitalised messages before blocking me, I think he doesn’t, which is his own fault for not doing his own fact-checking. But I know you follow him on Instagram, Yuuri. Why don’t you just DM him and clear things up?”
An exasperated sigh escapes his mouth, “You’re impossible, you know that?”
“I live to serve, mon ami~”
Yuuri might’ve actually begun contemplating the pros and cons of suffocating Chris with a pillow later that night and sending his body off with the currents into the Sea of Japan, had it not been for the sliding door being open, and his mother peeking inside.
“Um… Yuuri?”
“Yes, mum?” he acknowledges her in their native Japanese.
“There’s someone here to see you,” she says, looking unsure and rather nonplussed.
Yuuri raises an eyebrow, briefly wondering if Viktor had actually done a runner from St. Petersburg and tracked him down like how Chris had done.
“Ciao, ciao, Katsuki-kun! I hope I’m not intruding!”
To Be Continued.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Amidst the dim light of the pre-dawn morning, Viktor Nikiforov squirms nervously on his sofa, holding Makkachin tight to his chest as both a familiar comfort and a protective brace for what is to come. Across from him on the coffee table, a laptop is open, and Skype set up. Time frustratingly passes by slower than a snail high on weed, and Viktor is all but certain that he is mere centimetres away from a full-blown Chernobyl-like meltdown. (He would’ve used Fukushima, but too soon -) He vaguely knows that Makkachin must be super uncomfortable right now, especially with how hard he is squeezing his beloved dog, but if he doesn’t, he might just explode! The suspense and tension was killing him! Why couldn’t time go faster?! Then, Viktor almost misses the screen suddenly switching to incoming call mode, with the name of the one who put him in such a precarious state flashed clearly. He would deny it to anyone else right up to his dying breath, but he almost fell off the couch when the dial tone unceremoniously snapped him out of his spiralling emotions. And again, he would deny that, in his haste to answer the call, he almost pressed the “decline” button, barely retaining enough cognitive ability to press the “answer” button. Then, like the sun parting the clouds of a storm that had now come to an end, the mid-resolution video feed opens to the one face that has returned so much meaning and purpose to Viktor’s mortal existence.
“Hey, Viktor.”
One can only imagine what those two words, one of them being his own name, spoken by the one person who fundamentally rocked his entire world, did to poor Viktor’s heart and soul. Even when dressed in a simple long-sleeved hoodie, Yuuri looks like an angel showing his heavenly presence upon the lowly mortals of this world. Viktor’s throat instantly becomes parched, and he very nearly commits one of the most unforgivable social faux pas ever known - not replying back. “H-Hey, Yuuri. G-Good to see you.” Inwardly, Viktor wants to kick himself. Way to fucking go, now he sounds like some awkward noob!
“It’s good to see you too, Viktor. It’s been a while, huh?”
Ahhhhh….Yuuri is so precious, not even commenting on Viktor’s fumbling attempts at a conversation! Yuuri is simply too good for this world! “Y-Yeah…I didn’t see you this season.” “Yep, I decided to take the season off,” Yuuri replies, shrugging, “After what happened…I wanted some time for myself.” Immediately, Viktor wanted to kick himself again, or better yet, drown himself in the river. He just had to say it, didn’t he?! He just had to mention that Yuuri’s home country just suffered the triple disaster of an earthquake, tsunami and nuclear catastrophe, right to the man himself! “It’s probably for the best, though,” Yuuri’s voice yanks Viktor out of his spiral of self-reproach, “I’m also at the age where I should really consider my career choices outside of figure skating. I can’t be on the ice forever, after all.” Viktor has to, quite physically, stop himself from crying out his refusal to let Yuuri leave the ice, “S-So…did you plan anything?”
“Yeah, but it’s kinda a long story…”
The day before…
The sense of dejá vù is strong here, Yuuri thinks. Celestino is exactly as he remembers him, if a little younger-looking given the current year. His mannerisms, though, haven't changed even in this life. They are currently sitting in a private banqueting room, with his mother bringing in tea for everyone. Yuuri feels…actually he doesn’t really know what to feel. Awkward? Nervous? Excited, even? The tea does help a little, even if it doesn’t explain why Celestino is in Hasetsu, of all places, and looking for him specifically. “So…um…Mr. Cialdini,” his mother begins with her heavily-accented English, “What brings you here?” “I’m here with an offer for your son, Katsuki-san,” Celestino replies. ‘He must’ve read up on Japanese etiquette…’ Yuuri thinks, before verbally asking, “What offer?” “To be your coach, of course!” Celestino beams a bright grin. Admittedly, Yuuri did not see that coming. Oh, he didn’t forget that in a lifetime passed, Celestino was his coach, along with Phichit. But that was in Detroit, and it was only after beginning his university studies there did Yuuri meet Celestino. In this lifetime, though, the opposite is now occurring. “Um…I’m flattered that you’re offering to become my coach, Cialdini-san,” Yuuri eventually replies, “But what brought this up?” Celestino levels an uncharacteristic serious look in response, something that Yuuri knows for a fact that normally optimistic and occasionally-flippant Italian man was being deadly serious, “To be honest, Katsuki-kun, I have been watching you blaze through the junior and senior divisions for some time. Even though you do not use social media often, the community more than makes up for it. I have seen many people predicting that you will be the one to dethrone the Living Legend, or rather, fearing that you will dethrone the beloved Living Legend. Not that Nikiforov has been gushing about you for years already,” Celestino chuckles, “But I digress. I may be exaggerating, but you have ushered in a Renaissance for figure skating, Katsuki-kun. You have breathed new life into a competitive rink that has gone stale. And I want you to be able to continue this trend, set a new tone and standard for competitive figure skating. To ensure that your name is forever immortalised in the hall of fame!” That last part is said with such a Celestino-like flourish that Yuuri is torn between nostalgia and second-hand embarrassment. If anything, he has to applaud westerners for being so self-confident (or shameless). “At least that is one thing we can agree upon, Cialdini,” Chris suddenly pipes up, before throwing an arm around Yuuri’s shoulders, “But let's hear what Yuuri has to say about all of this.” All eyes are on Yuuri. When he would have, in a lifetime past, broke out in nervous sweat and stammering from suddenly being the centre of attention without so much as a warning, now he goes into deep thought, weighing the options laid out before him, and considers his next course of action. “Well…”
Back in the present…
“I told Cialdini that I would think about it. This is a big decision after all, one that was, rather admittedly, thrust upon me without any warning beforehand.”
“And he’s okay with that?”
“Yep, apparently so. Cialdini said that I could take as long as I wanted to think about it. And, he’s staying in Hasetsu in the meantime. He’s on a tourist visa, so he can stay for 90 days until he legally has to leave.”
“Ah…I see.” A few moments of silence pass. Try as he might, Viktor finds himself struggling to continue the conversation. What should he even say?
“You know, if anything, this is a blessing in disguise.”
“Huh? What do you mean?” “Cialdini suddenly showing up unannounced actually helps to put things into perspective,” Yuuri admits, scratching his cheek, the mere sight of which nearly makes Viktor’s heart squeeze uncomfortably from just how cute it looks, “Even after Chris showed up, equally unannounced, and helped me get back up on my feet, I’ve been at a…loss on what to do. I know that there will come a time where I will leave the ice permanently. I guess…I just haven’t really given much thought about what I wanted to do when the time came.” Again, Viktor has physically restrain himself from looking like an absolute idiot by begging Yuuri, like a whiny child, to never leave the ice for as long as he lives. Instead, he immediately latches onto something which he hopes will be a safer topic. “That bastard Chris, how dare he trick me into thinking that he and you were dating!” Viktor’s inner child whooped with joy as Yuuri responds with an exasperated sigh, “You weren’t the only one. Though, I suppose I don’t have much of a leg to stand on, given that even I didn’t know that he was getting up to that nonsense.” Viktor pouted, “It was so convincing, you know? Literally everyone thought that you both were dating! Yuri was harassing Yakov every day, demanding that he let him fly to Hasetsu to, quote, “protect Katsuki’s honour and purity”! Hell, he even threatened me ! Can you believe it?! Good ol’ me ! He told me to, quote, keep my dirty old man pervert claws away from you! Ex-fucking-cuse me?! Can you believe the audacity of that kid?!” Absolutely nothing could’ve prepared Viktor for what happened next. Yuuri chuckles, “Why am I not surprised? Yurio is such a feisty little tiger cub, isn’t he?” One could almost hear Viktor’s entire world shattering like glass. Even Makkachin, who had been merely listening into the conversation, immediately perks up, ears actually raised as if even he didn’t quite believe what he just heard. It takes Viktor a total of ten seconds to process what just happened. Even so, he refuses to believe that what he heard was actually what he heard. “Y-You…You speak Russian?” Yuuri, being the cheeky bastard he is, simply winks, “A little. Can’t say I’m fluent.” Viktor promptly crashes, and has to perform an emergency reboot. When he manages to put words into proper sentences again, he promptly loses his shit, “A little? A little ?! Katsuki Yuuri, you speak Russian absolutely perfectly ! Hell, you even have the St. Petersburg accent! Where did you learn Russian?!” “Actually…” , Yuuri scratches his cheek, again, not helping the situation on Viktor’s end of the call, “I learnt Russian because of you.” That promptly robs Viktor of all coherent speech. “I…I’ve never been shy about my admiration towards you. So much so that…I learnt Russian for the longest time. And…” Yuuri momentarily disappears from the screen, and reappears with the cutest toy poodle Viktor has ever seen, “I got myself a poodle too, and named him ‘Vicchan’, after you.” This was it. This was where Viktor died. His soul is leaving his body, and is about to ascend to a higher plane of existence in the skies above. How could he not fall in love with Yuuri now? One could argue that what Yuuri did borders on stalker behaviour, but Viktor would wholeheartedly pull a Yuri Plisetsky and slit any naysayer’s throat with the blades of his skates if they dare attempt to bad-mouth Yuuri in any shape or form.
“Viktor? Are you okay? You’ve been silent for a while…”
“A-Ah! I’m fine! I’m fine!” Viktor scrambles to reassure Yuuri before the Japanese skater could get the wrong idea, “I-I was just surprised! Yes, surprised. I…I never had anyone learn an entire language just because of me . I don’t think they even teach Russian in Japan!” “No, they don’t,” Yuuri shakes his head, looking relieved, “I really mean it, though. You have shaped much of my life, and…as cheesy as it sounds, I really wanted to honour it in ways that I could.” ‘Ahhhhh…this isn’t good for my heart!’ Viktor inwardly cries, before continuing outwardly, “D-Do you…speak other languages?”
“English, obviously. And…I think I’m considering more, like Thai, Korean, maybe even French and German.”
“T-That…that’s so many!” Viktor cries out, “Your brain could explode!” “ I’m willing to risk it,” Yuuri replies steadfastly, “I don’t know why, but I feel like I’ll need it, somehow.” (At two specific locations across Asia, Phichit and Seung-gil both sneeze at the same time.) Viktor tries to steer the conversation to a different direction before he completely loses it, “S-So…where is Cialdini located?” “He’s currently has his base of training at Yale,” Yuuri replies, “And…even though there isn’t anything concrete yet, I’m starting to feel inclined towards Yale and taking up Cialdini’s offer.” “Well…I think you’ll get in! I mean, I never went to university, so I have no idea what it’s like, but I’m sure you’ll get in!” Viktor declares. Yuuri, much to the distress of his heart, smiles warmly, “I appreciate it, Viktor. Thank you.” It was shockingly close, how Viktor came to having a heart attack right then and there.
“And, even though I will be taking this season off, hopefully, when things are more concrete, I’ll be back next season. Then…we can see each other in person again.”
The shy, dare he say hopeful look radiating from Yuuri’s eyes is, quite literally, the last straw. Viktor hopes to every deity in the history of mankind that the Skype call didn’t pick up his absolutely breathless squeal, even as he grabbed a cushion to stifle his mouth.
“Viktor? Is everything okay?”
“I-I’m fine!” Viktor hurriedly replies, “D-Don’t worry about it! It’s nothing.” Yuuri blinks, before huffing good-naturedly, “You’re absolute shit at reassuring people, you know that?” If it were in any other situation, that might’ve come across as insulting or rude. But somehow, it just feels…fond, and rather inexplicably, a hint of nostalgia. Regardless, Viktor feels himself relaxing.
“Anyways, I have to go now. I’ll…talk to you again sometime? I followed you on Instagram, so you can DM me whenever, yeah? I…may not be able to respond immediately, but I promise to.”
“Yes…yes…we can do that. I shouldn’t keep you any longer, Yuuri. Take care.”
Yuuri smiles one last time, warm and genuine, “See you, Viktor. Come, Vicchan, say goodbye to Viktor.”
“Arf!”
Viktor barely registers the call ending, and the screen returning back to the home page. A beat of silence, before Viktor breaks it with the loudest groan he and Makkachin ever heard him produce. He buries his face in the cushion he still has in his arms, groaning pitifully. ‘I’m done, dead, gone. Yuuri…Yuuri is…’ He can’t find the right words, but judging from how steam is puffing from his head, and his face, despite being hidden by the plush material, is flushed a glowing red, his reactions speak louder than any words can convey. “Ahhhhh…how is he so perfect?” Viktor moans, “I can’t deal with this. He’s going to kill me, and I will still thank him for that!” He lets out another groan, and his flush burns even brighter, bringing his silver-blond hair into starker clarity. By his side, Makkachin eyes him intently. Roaming towards the screen, and back to his beloved owner, the chocolate poodle huffs, and rests his head on Viktor’s feet as the man combusts under the pressure of his lovesick heart and soul.
To Be Continued.