Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The circus appeared outside Hasetsu one random early morning, winking into existence fully formed like a dawn star bursting to life among the horizon where nothing but an open field had been mere moments before. As the shadows retreated, giving way to the day ahead, fishermen and farmers on their way to their morning chores spied the anomaly nestled on the outskirts of town with a healthy mix of curiosity and trepidation.

For what kind of entity could spring up seemingly out of the ground in the depths of night, without a single sound to announce its arrival?

Only those of the magical kind. And where magic came, trouble usually followed.

Grunting, these simple folk crossed themselves and hurried on their way.

But not all residents of Hasetsu were of their ilk. Many others let their curiosity nourish excitement, clamoring for a bit of variety in their normally very mundane everyday lives. They greeted the new diversion with joy, eager to witness the spectacle, no matter how mysteriously it had arrived.

When the Cirque Fantastique opened its wrought-iron gates the following day, more than half the town stood outside, waiting to see what wonders the circus had in store for them.

They would not be disappointed.

~

“Come on, Yuuri! Hurry up or we’ll miss it!” Yuuko called from the entrance of Yutopia Inn and Onsen. Her triplets buzzed around the cozy space like individual dervishes, stirring up mischief as always.

The man in question poked his head out from the kitchen, pushing his blue-framed glasses up his nose as he offered his friend a regretful look.

“Maybe you should go on without me,” he replied in a soft voice, gripping his shirtfront nervously. “There’s so much to do here, and -”

Yuuko put her hands on her hips in a picture of defiance and exasperation. “Yuuri Katsuki, you’ve said that all week. Now it’s the circus’ last day. Come on. Your parents can cover for you for a little while.”

Yuuri stepped out of the kitchen, wringing his hands and biting his lip. “But what if –”

Yuuko stepped forward and placed a hand on his shoulder, offering a reassuring smile. Yuuri flinched away from the touch as he always did. Yuuko, used to such a reaction from her friend, let her hand drop without comment. “Yuuri, you can’t stop letting life pass you by. You have to step out of your comfort zone once in a while or it’ll be too late. Opportunities to experience something new just don’t come around very often in Hasetsu. Don’t worry. Me and the girls have already visited twice. There is absolutely nothing scary about the circus. Let yourself have a little fun for once.”

Yuuri dithered for several minutes more before emitting a sigh of defeat. “Fine,” he said. “I’ll go. But only for a little while.”

Yuuko smiled triumphantly. “You won’t regret it. I promise.”

~~

The first thought that invaded Yuuri’s brain when he approached the entry gate was that the circus was very aptly named. Cirque Fantastique really did emulate the stuff fantasies were made of. Everywhere he turned he spied elements of a mysterious dreamy quality that was equal parts alluring and slightly unsettling. A cacophony of black and white striped tents dotted the landscape, each advertising some new and enticing form of entertainment. Yuuri turned around in an awestruck circle, unsure of where to even begin. Every nook and cranny seemed to whisper to him, me, me first, pulling him in all directions.

“I want to go see the big cats!” Yuuko’s daughter Axel announced.

“No! I want to see the jugglers!” Argued Loop, shaking her pink ponytail.

“I’m hungry, momma,” whined Lutz. “Let’s get caramel apples!”

Yuuko rolled her eyes and looked at Yuuri apologetically. “Meet you at the big top in an hour?”

Yuuri smiled reassuringly at his friend. “Of course. Don’t worry about me. I’ll just wander for a while.”

Yuuko nodded and allowed herself to be pulled away by her very energetic trio of daughters.

Yuuri watched them walk away and was about to turn when a voice purred right next to his ear, causing him to nearly jump out of his skin.

“Might I help you find what you’re looking for, cheri?” it asked in a low sultry tone.

Yuuri hastily stepped back and turned around, beholding a tall blond man, his green eyes sparkling mischievously as if he knew exactly what he was doing to Yuuri’s poor nerves and was enjoying himself immensely.

“H-how do you know what I’m looking for?” Yuuri asked, trying to tamp down the racing of his heart.

The man smirked at that question. “Oh, I know a lot of things, cheri,” he purred. “Let’s just say finding things happens to be my particular specialty. Care to try me?”

“I’m not sure what you’re implying,” Yuuri hedged, looking around for a place to escape.

“Down boy,” the man replied, his smirk growing. “I don’t mean that, unless you’re interested of course?” At Yuuri’s fervent head shake, he sighed. “Ah well, but it can’t be helped. As delicious a morsel as you are, you are not meant for me. A pity. Anyway, I’d like to offer you a reading, if you’d like. Shall we see what the cards tell us of your destiny?”

“I’m not sure. I don’t have a lot of money…” Yuuri dithered.

“Oh, this reading is on the house, cheri. Call it professional curiosity. The name is Christophe, by the way, but my friends call me Chris. And I do believe that we just might become very good friends. Shall we?”

Yuuri bit his lip, not quite knowing what to make of that, but in a fit of either courage or insanity, or a little of both, he followed Christophe to a small tent a short distance away from where they’d been standing. Christophe opened the flap and made a sweeping gesture for Yuuri to enter, which, to his own amazement, he did.

Inside the tent, made cozy with an array of colorful tapestries adorning the floor and every wall, lay a small table with two old but sturdy wooden chairs. Once fully inside, Christophe let the flap drop and led Yuuri to a chair, pressing him to sit before joining him at the other side of the table. With a flourish, he materialized a deck of tarot cards from seemingly nowhere, leaving Yuuri blinking in confusion as he attempted to identify the foundation of the trick.

Chris merely smiled smugly, shuffling the cards twice before handing the deck to Yuuri.

“Now, shuffle the cards so that your essence might make an impression on them,” he instructed. “Then we will find the answers you seek, cheri.”

“My name is Yuuri,” Yuuri replied in a petulant voice as he took the cards from Christophe and began to shuffle.

“I know,” Chris replied with a wink. “But cheri suits you.”

Yuuri scowled at the cards, shuffling them furiously as an outlet for his frustration at being bested in this battle of wits. When he felt calmer, he handed the deck back to the fortune teller.

Chris grinned as he accepted the deck. “Let’s see what destiny has in store for you, Yuuri.”

He laid out the first card, causing Yuuri to frown. “This is your past,” Chris explained. “The Hanged Man inverted tells me that you’ve been feeling stuck for a while, by either internal or external circumstances I cannot say. You are standing still, letting life pass you by. Doesn’t sound very fulfilling, does it?”

Yuuri sighed internally, trying not to let Chris know exactly how spot-on that assessment was. While he loved his family and enjoyed helping them out at the onsen, he’d been feeling unfulfilled by the mundane everyday existence he’d been born into for a while. He hadn’t told anyone about it, because to do so would be to sound ungrateful. He had a good life. A loving family and a roof over his head. What more could he expect? What more did he deserve?

Fortunately, Chris seemed oblivious to his current crisis.

“This second card represents your present, or what is about to happen in the immediate future,” he said before flipping over the card and laying it flat before him. “Interesting,” he whispered as he gazed upon the image of a giant wheel.

“What? What’s interesting?” Yuuri asked with urgency.

“Let me see something before I answer,” Chris replied, flipping over the third card. Yuuri visibly paled when he spied the image of an ominous structure standing in the midst of a swirling, dark tempest.

The Tower.

“As I thought,” Chris whispered to himself, fingering the edge of the final card.

Yuuri gulped. “What does it mean?”

Chris looked up, his green eyes casting a faraway expression as if seeing depths and worlds far beyond that of the naked eye. “It means change is coming and you are the catalyst, whether that be for good or ill, I cannot say. But your presence has set the Wheel in motion, and it is my task to help it forward.”

He picked up the middle card, letting the image of just such a Wheel of Fortune face Yuuri. “If you wish to seize your chance and embrace your true destiny, take this card and bring it to the Ringmaster just before midnight tonight. He will understand what it means. It’s your choice to do this or not, of course, but perhaps it’s time to stop standing still, no? Only by moving forward will you begin to find the answers your heart is seeking.”

Yuuri scowled at the offered card, miffed that Chris hadn’t even begun to answer his question. He plucked the card from the fortune teller’s hand, considering the image and his choices.

“And what will happen if I do this?” he asked with trepidation.

“That is for me to know and for you to discover, cheri,” Chris replied, his characteristic smirk back in place. “I must bid you adieu for now. Enjoy the cirque.”

Yuuri looked back down at the card in his hand before speaking again. “But what if—”

But he realized upon looking back up that he was now completely alone, all traces of the enigmatic medium vanishing into thin air. Entirely unsettled, he exited the tent and began his way to the big top for the main performance, head swirling with too many unanswered questions.

~~

Yuuri quickly found Yuuko and her daughters in the middle of the rising rows of benches, near the large performance area marked with a shallow yellow border along the ground. After exchanging smiles and a few brief words about Yuuko’s adventures in child wrangling, the lights went out in the tent, plunging everything into complete darkness. Yuuri stared ahead, a flutter of anticipation rising in his chest as he waited for something, anything, to happen. If Yuuko’s exaltations were any indication, what was about to follow would be well worth the wait.

A solitary spotlight burst to life in the middle of the ring from a source Yuuri couldn’t identify. The air crackled with excitement that rippled through the assembled crowd of circusgoers, some turning to their neighbors with knowing smiles. Yuuri ignored them all as, at that moment, a long silver curtain of silk descended from the mysterious light source, left hanging and swaying in the tiny current of moving air within the tent.

A thrumming bass beat permeated the silence, causing the audience to be swept away by the thrill of what was to come. Just when things might have reached a fever pitch on sound alone, the silk shivered and Yuuri forgot how to breathe.

Sliding down the ribbon of silk with one practiced hand was the single most beautiful man he’d seen in his entire, very gay, existence on Earth.

He was dressed in a magenta coat that evoked a princely air, gold embellishments adorning his chest. The sleeves were absent from the jacket, showcasing his bare, muscular arms. On the bottom, twin sheer tails extended from the jacket behind him, adding an extra layer of regality to the ensemble. His black pants were so tight they left very little to the imagination. Yuuri swallowed the lump that formed in his throat at the mental image they sparked in his brain. Amazingly, the most alluring part about the man was his face, adorned with hair as silky silver as the ribbon he clung to. Even from such a distance, Yuuri could see how vibrantly blue his eyes were, sparkling with intensity as he surveyed the crowd. The crowning glory was the flawless ivory skin that held it all together. The man was a living work of art, and the wink he levied at the crowd left no doubt that he knew exactly how alluring he was. Surely more than one audience member succumbed to sighs and swoons upon sight of that wink alone. Yuuri was almost among them but managed to hide such a reflex just in time.

“Welcome to the party, ladies, gentlemen, and everyone in between,” the man called to the audience with a clear, resonant voice that reached every corner of the space with ease. His arm muscles flexed, and he inverted himself with perfect fluidity, legs spread outward in a perfect split. “Let us make your dreams come true,” he added as if the act of being inverted and supported by only one arm was something mundane and ordinary.

He curled one leg into the ribbon, wrapping it around several times before letting his arm fall from its grip. He balanced there for agonizing seconds, causing everyone to hold their breath as they witnessed such impressive strength. With a smirk, he wrapped the ribbon around his waist before unwinding it from his leg, leaving him parallel to the ground so many feet higher. Without preamble, he let himself spin down, down, free-falling as the ribbon unwound itself from his waist almost too fast to see. The audience gasped audibly, bracing themselves for the inevitable crash to the dirt below.

But it never came.

One foot before hitting the ground he pulled himself up to an abrupt stop, perfectly cradled within the ribbon’s embrace, his back facing the ground in a gesture of refusal to adhere to the laws of gravity. His chest heaved as he stared at the ceiling for a few moments before turning to the audience with a smile. It took only a couple of successive flips and curls to return to a comfortable height above the audience’s heads.

Then he began to swing.

He swung in wider and wider arcs until the audience had to crane their necks to see him pass right above their heads. As he did so, sparkling orbs burst to life seemingly by magic, illuminating the entire tent once more with a bright luminescent glow.  

When the man passed into Yuuri’s vicinity, he looked down, seemingly spying Yuuri among the crowd. For one moment that seemed to stretch forever, their eyes locked, cerulean on chocolate, and the world slipped away. Yuuri’s eyes widened as a flicker of…something… he couldn’t even begin to name what, passed between the two of them. For the second time in a matter of minutes, he forgot how to breathe.

And then the man swept past, taking the moment with him so surely that Yuuri couldn’t even begin to decide whether it was real.

His shaking hands, however, said otherwise.

Only when the entire tent was fully aglow did the silver-haired man return to the center of the ring and lower himself to stand on the ground. With a flourish, he reached his hand out to a shadowed side of the tent. A moment later, a magenta silk hat hurled itself toward him, which he caught with one practiced hand. Placing the top hat upon his head, he smiled at the audience and bowed.

The audience lost their minds in their haste to demonstrate their enthusiasm through applause, Yuuri included.

The man rose from his bow and held his hands out to silence the crowd. They complied with his wishes almost instantly.

“Cirque Fantastique welcomes you, dear reveurs. I am Viktor Nikiforov, and it is my honor to present this feast for the senses to you this day. May it dazzle and enchant, inspire and amaze, and always, always, leave you wanting more. Don’t worry, friends, we will show you some good entertainment. And now, let the revels begin!”

The orbs of light flared brilliantly, changing colors from pale white to a succession of every color of the rainbow before reverting back to their colorless, but no less warm, glow. By the time everyone’s eyes readjusted, the circle before them was empty.

Yuuri had a vague sense that there was a lot happening in the hours that followed, but for the life of him, he couldn’t focus on any of it. His thoughts kept drifting to a set of vibrantly blue eyes and the moment they had fixed upon his own. Why did it feel like everything was about to change because of that one tiny moment?

His thoughts turned back to the bizarre tarot card reading he’d received earlier. The fortune teller had said something very similar, hadn’t he?

Your presence has set the Wheel in motion… only by moving forward will you begin to find the answers your heart is seeking.

He felt like he was standing on the precipice of something much larger than himself. Even though the prospect of something so daunting terrified him to his core, he decided that this time, he wouldn’t let the opportunity pass him by.

He needed answers. And he was resolved to get them.

The entire time Yuuri was lost in his internal conflict, not once did he notice the silver-haired man observing him from the shadows, a long finger pressed against his lips in contemplation. When the final performance concluded, he let the shadows engulf him as he turned away with a somber air, collecting himself in order to regain the stage and bring the show to an end.

The show, as always, must go on, after all, and there was no time for such thoughts, such confusing feelings. He’d made a choice, after all, and he must continue to bear the consequences.

Alone.

~~

After the big top performance concluded, Yuuri walked Yuuko and her daughters back to their home, nodding hello to her husband Takeshi but declining the offer of tea. After saying his goodbyes, he doubled back to the circus, focused on his resolution. Just before the circus closed for the night, Yuuri asked the boy at the ticket booth where the Ringmaster could be found. The bubbly boy nodded enthusiastically, his red-streaked hair bouncing happily as he pointed the way to Viktor Nikiforov’s wagon. The boy did mention, however, that the circus was closed and that he should make his business quick. No one was allowed on circus grounds past midnight except for staff. He explained that it was the circus’ most steadfast rule, which should never ever be broken. After eliciting multiple promises from Yuuri that he would be outside the gates well before that time, he sent Yuuri on his way with a cheerful smile.

Yuuri wandered around, dodging circus staff as he waited for the right time to approach the Ringmaster, as indicated by the fortune teller. He didn’t give much thought to the reason why just before midnight should be the right time, thinking that perhaps the man’s duties kept him occupied until that hour and thus unable to consider other, less pressing matters such as mysterious tarot cards. A few minutes before midnight, Yuuri at last knocked at the door of the violet painted wagon at the end of a long lane of similar wagons, heart in his throat as he waited for what would follow. He wasn’t sure what to expect, yet somehow, he knew that it would be life-changing.

A voice responded from within, laced with annoyance. “Chris, I already told you I’m not in the mood. I –” The door swung open, revealing the visage of the man who had enraptured him and every other spectator just a short time earlier. Somehow, with his vest unbuttoned and his golden embellishments removed, Ringmaster Viktor Nikiforov was even more alluring than he had been under the ethereal glow of the Big Top.

An electric current passed between the two men, the same effect that had taken place earlier that night for one perfect moment.

“You...” the man stuttered, his vivid blue eyes wide with something that Yuuri couldn’t help but recognize as panic laced with what appeared to be deep-seated pain as he beheld his unexpected visitor. Yuuri opened his mouth to ask what was wrong, why his presence seemed to hurt this beautiful man, but he was cut off.

“You can’t be here,” the man whispered in despair. “It’s almost midnight. You have to leave. Please-”

“Um,” Yuuri stammered, thoroughly nonplussed by the man’s reaction. He took a steadying breath and cleared his throat to explain, hoping he wouldn’t be rebuffed and sent away, not when he was so close to the answers he needed. “I was told to visit you just before midnight. The blond man -- Christophe. He’s a fortune teller, I guess? He gave me this to give to you at this precise time. He said that you would understand.”

With shaking hands, Yuuri pulled out the Wheel of Fortune card from his pocket, handing it to the very confused Ringmaster. When he spied the image on the card, Viktor gasped, nearly dropping it in his shock.

“It can’t be,” he whispered, staring hard at the card as if it would disappear if he didn’t.

Yuuri tilted his head, somehow even more perplexed than when he’d begun. “What does it mean?” he asked quietly.

Just then, the clock embedded in the circus’ gate began to toll the midnight hour. Viktor shook his head as if to clear it, leveling his blue gaze on Yuuri’s face with a grave but urgent expression before opening his mouth to speak.

“There isn’t enough time to fully explain, so I’ll try a very abbreviated version. This card means that, for reasons I’m not yet entirely sure of, you’re meant to be here. However, you need to know something important. When that clock stops chiming, you can never leave. All of us, the personnel that make up the circus, are tied to this place, woven into the very material that makes it a reality. This card represents a choice, one you need to make right now. That choice is both devastatingly simple and incredibly difficult. Do you stay and try to uncover the mysteries implied within this card, even though it will force you to give up everything you’ve ever known? Or do you make the wiser choice and run away, forgetting all that you’ve seen and experienced in the past few hours? Forgetting me.”

Viktor paused, swallowing before continuing on, his expression regretful. “I wish I could give you the luxury of time to decide, but unfortunately it is not mine to offer. The Wheel continues to turn, and we are powerless against it.”

Yuuri considered the face of the man before him, his pink lips contorted into a worried frown. He knew, as he listened to the clock tick down the last moments of his freedom, that he should flee, he should run far and fast and never look back. But for some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to do that. Maybe he had completely lost his mind. With the day he’d just had, he wouldn’t have been at all surprised.

As he gazed into the brilliant aqua eyes of the man he’d just met mere hours ago, he found that any kind of life where he’d never again be able to see Viktor would be an unbearable existence. As that realization dawned, he opened his mouth to utter his decision.

“I will stay.”

Viktor Nikiforov closed his eyes, overwhelmed by an onslaught of emotions, as the town clock chimed for the last time and the circus faded from the sight of everyone outside its borders, a mere memory upon the breeze.

Opening them again, he smiled at the raven-haired man who’d inexplicably just tied his fate to his own, a mixture of sadness and hope in the curl of his lips.

“What’s your name?” Viktor asked, taking Yuuri’s hand and squeezing it gently. Yuuri trembled involuntarily at the contact, not allowing himself to analyze how right it felt when he typically shied away from any kind of touch.

“Yuuri. Yuuri Katsuki,” came the soft reply.

“Welcome to the Circus of Fantasies, Yuuri,” Viktor whispered, blue eyes sparkling as he drew Yuuri into his wagon.

Yuuri, who should have been panicking about, well, a lot of things at that moment, simply smiled and let the man lead him inside without an ounce of resistance.

The Circus of Fantasies it certainly was. And his were just beginning.

Chapter Text

The first thing that Yuuri noticed when he entered Viktor’s wagon was the fairy lights that dotted every inch of the walls, dancing merrily to a song only they could hear seemingly without the need for electric wiring to set them aglow. He dropped Viktor’s hand and stepped up to a small cluster of them, trying to puzzle out by what mechanism they were able to illuminate the space, which was much larger than he’d originally thought. Viktor stood by patiently, waiting for Yuuri to voice the inevitable questions that tickled the tip of his tongue.

“How?” Yuuri whispered as one of the fairy lights danced into his open palm.

“I prefer to describe it as a kind of…side effect of the magic that made this place. A spillover from the excess,” Viktor responded by way of explanation, which only added to the number of questions swirling in Yuuri’s mind.

“Magic?” he decided to start with. It was as good a place as any.

“Yes, Yuuri. Magic,” Viktor replied with an indulgent smile. With a wave of his hand, the fairy lights gravitated toward him, swirling around his silver head in a halo of golden light. The effect was so striking that Yuuri could do nothing but gape in sheer awe. With a wink, Viktor waved the lights away again and they retreated to their original placements around the wagon’s walls.

“Shall I tell you a story, Yuuri?” Viktor asked softly, gesturing to a pair of overstuffed armchairs.

“Please,” Yuuri whispered, sinking into the velvet plushness with an overwhelmed sigh. “What in the world is going on? What is this place? How are you trapped here? Everything is just so far-fetched that I don’t even know where to begin puzzling any of this out. I’m just an innkeeper’s son. I’m not made for things like…like…magic.”

Viktor settled into the chair opposite Yuuri with a practiced air. After gazing for long moments in the distance, as if trying to decide where to begin or, probably more accurately, what to share without causing too much alarm, he began to speak.

“Once upon a time,” he said with a sparkle in his vibrant blue eye, “there was a theater.”

Yuuri sucked in a breath but remained silent as Viktor began to weave his tale.

“Yubileyny was a wonderful place. We, that is, the troupe, most of whom I’ll introduce you to later, worked hard to present multiple shows a week that dazzled and delighted our audience. We were a family of misfits brought together by circumstance and the big heart of our leader, Yakov Feltsman. He was a gruff but kind man with a soft spot for the less fortunate. One by one, he plucked us from the streets of Saint Petersburg and gave us a roof over our heads and a job to do. Even though society mocked him for taking in strays, he never turned away someone in need. But despite the city’s well-to-do population constantly scoffing at Yakov’s charity, they still flocked to see our shows. We didn’t care what they said. We were happy, safe, warm, and cared for.

Until, one day, everything fell apart.

Yakov became an old man to our dismay, and Saint Petersburg winters are always harsh and unforgiving. More so, back then. One February day, death came to claim our father after a prolonged illness. Before he passed, he called me to his bedside and made me promise as the eldest to look after our family, and to do whatever was necessary to keep us together. I promised without question. All I wanted was to ensure that Yakov’s last moments were spent without worry about what would happen to his adopted children when he was gone.

It wasn’t until a week after the funeral that I realized just how difficult keeping that promise would be.

Yubileyny hadn’t been nearly as profitable as Yakov had led us all to believe. To keep us housed and fed, Yakov had incurred significant debts. When news of his death reached his creditors’ ears, they descended like vultures on the theater, demanding that we sell the building, our only asset, to cover the costs. The theater was our home and the tether that held our family together. Without it, I could never hope to keep the promise I’d made to Yakov.

I had to do something. Something desperate.”

Viktor paused, looking down at his hands with such a lost expression that it tugged at Yuuri’s heartstrings. But before he could decide whether or not to attempt any sort of comfort, he raised his head and pierced Yuuri with his vivid blue gaze.

“Are you familiar with stories about the crossroads, Yuuri?” he asked softly.

Yuuri nodded. “Legends say that they’re a place of in-between. The connecting point between the human world and the spirit world.”

“Yes, that’s correct,” Viktor replied. “In my culture, crossroads are a meeting place of sorts. A place where the desperate go to make a deal with Krestovoi, the spirit of the crossroads, who has the ability to change their fates. On the night before our beloved theater was to be sold at auction to cover the debts, I decided to pay the crossroads a visit. All our previous attempts at loans and fundraising had been exhausted by then, and the only prospect before us was either separation or starvation. So, I decided to see if the legends about bargaining spirits were true as a last resort.”

Viktor raked a long-fingered hand through his silky silver hair before continuing with his story. “Every pact, according to the legends, requires a gift to appease the spirit. I had long hair back then, which people told me resembled spun starlight. I was, I’ll admit, pretty vain about it. When the time came to think about what might inspire the spirit to honor my request, my hair was the only thing I could think of that contained enough value to give in exchange for saving my family. That night I took a knife and sheared it off, placing the strands in a box with a copper coin with which to strike the deal. Without telling anyone where I was going, I stole out under cover of darkness to the crossroads just outside of town.”

Viktor waved his hand at the nearby wall. In an instant, the fairy lights scattered, leaving the space blank. With another flourish, two shadows appeared on the surface. One, who looked very much like the storyteller himself, held a box. The other was tall and imposing, leaving Yuuri with no doubt that this was the spirit Viktor had set out to meet that fateful night.

“It didn’t take much time for Krestovoi to appear. I offered him my gift in exchange for allowing me to keep my promise to Yakov. Heart in my throat, I asked the spirit to allow us to survive and not be separated. He asked me to describe my family and what held us together, seemingly delighted when I told him that we were performers. ‘That will do nicely,’ the spirit said with a smile that I should have taken better care to be wary of, but I was too intent on achieving my goal to take note of the warning. Taking the coin from the box, he held it out to me, palm up.”

Yuuri watched the wall to his right as the shadow representing the spirit repeated the gesture described by the storyteller opposite him.

“Krestovoi told me to shake his hand, and once the deal was sealed, he would guarantee that my family would always be together, and that as performers we would thrive, amazing audiences in ways we could never have imagined. Eager and desperate, I agreed, shaking his hand and sealing the pact.”

On the wall, the Viktor-shaped shadow placed his hand atop the spirit’s spindly one. As their hands touched, the space around them began to glow brightly. Yuuri squinted at the sudden onslaught of light, but didn’t look away until the brightness overtook the two shadowy figures entirely, one cringing as if in pain and the other looming over ominously. With a last surge of light, the shadows faded entirely, disappearing from view and returning the wall to its previous blank state.

“I returned to the theater in high spirits, thinking that I’d finally been able to secure our future and keep my promise to Yakov. However, only when I arrived did I truly begin to realize the unknown cost of what I’d just committed our fates to. While I had been conducting the bargain, the theater had burst into flames for no known reason. By the time I arrived it was entirely unsalvageable. Fortunately, my brothers and sister were safe, but the fire took everything we had, leaving us with only our lives and the clothes on our backs. We watched all night in horror as our livelihoods literally went up in smoke. Inwardly, I cursed the spirit for breaking his promise.

Except he hadn’t. Krestovoi had only begun to play his game with our fates. The game I’d unwittingly signed us up for.

When the morning finally dawned and all that was left of our old life was rubble, something remarkable happened. Standing atop the heaps of brick, metal, and wood was something wholly unexpected. A series of tents, black striped with white, had appeared out of nowhere. They called to us like they were calling us home. Woven into the top of a pair of iron gates, swung wide and invitingly, were two words. Cirque Fantastique. Pulled by an unknown thread, we walked forward as a group and through those gates into our new future.

What we found beyond those gates was a performer’s dream come true, the tents offering us everything we could ask for to execute our chosen crafts. We darted about giddily and full of excitement, taking in every tent, every wagon, yet not stopping to analyze how or why they’d managed to appear just when we’d lost our home. We were ecstatic, exclaiming that it looked like our lives might be finally headed for a much-needed upward swing. As I watched their happy faces, I allowed myself a stirring of hope that the outcome of the pact I’d made would turn out favorably after all.

It was only when midnight struck and the gates swung shut on their own that I realized how thoroughly I was deceived. And how much I’d unwittingly betrayed those I’d professed to hold most dear.

We watched, clutching the closed gates that would not budge, as the tents faded from the human plane into the spirit world. And with them, so did we. From that fateful day, we have existed between worlds. The tents reappear in cities and towns near and far, yet we have no control over where they do so. We perform because that is all we know, continually delighting our audiences who have no idea of the fates of those who entertain them day after day. It’s our part of the bargain I struck with Krestovoi. We need not fear want or hunger, nor separation from each other, but from the rest of the world we are set apart, unable to bridge the gap into full manifestation in the human world. We are trapped in a half-life, one foot in each realm, suspended in time because of my foolishness.

And now you are too, Yuuri. I am so sorry.”

Yuuri sat for a long moment in silence, processing the many threads of Viktor’s story. Finally, he settled on his first question.

“How long have you and your family been trapped like this?” he asked softly, eyes full of sympathy.

“What year is it?” Viktor returned, examining his hands and not daring to see the expression in Yuuri’s face. He did not want to see the pity that he assumed would be lingering there.

“Two thousand twenty-five,” Yuuri replied.

Viktor sighed as he raised his head. “Our beloved Yubileyny burned down in the year nineteen fifteen. We have been trapped between worlds for more than one hundred years. We have watched civilizations rise and fall, ebb and flow, but always from the outside. We don’t age, and we don’t change. We endure, we watch, and we perform. It’s all we have. It’s all we are now. Not quite human but not quite spirit, either.”

“It sounds very lonely,” Yuuri blurted out, unable to help himself.

“Perhaps,” Viktor whispered, blue eyes sad, not wanting to elaborate on the empty years of his existence since that fateful day.

Yuuri studied the other man’s face, frowning at what he saw. “Your…family… how did they take it when you told them what happened?” He swallowed, almost afraid to know. If Viktor’s face was any indication, it was not a happy tale.

Viktor toyed with one of the orbs of light ever at his disposal, letting it bounce across his knuckles. “I believe the phrase ‘self-righteous idiot’ was used more than once,” he replied softly.

“And now, a hundred years later?” Yuuri whispered, his heart aching for the abuse Viktor undoubtedly endured over the many years of his imprisonment.

“Some have gotten over it,” Viktor conceded. “Others…remain distant. I understand, and don’t blame them. It’s easier for them to have a target for their frustrations regarding the current situation. I accept that burden as it is my fault that we are in this debacle to begin with. I deserve it.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, but I disagree with you, Viktor,” Yuuri resolutely replied. “You don’t deserve it. You don’t deserve to be beaten up for century-old decisions. You made a mistake, yes, but you really did think you were doing the right thing. You wanted to protect your family, as you’d been made to promise to do. In the face of such odds, you did the only thing you could think of. I don’t know if it was the right thing, given the consequences which you could not have foreseen, but it’s done. Your family shouldn’t continue to punish you. You only have each other, after all, and being at odds solves nothing.”

The bouncing light flickered out on Viktor’s knuckles as he stared at Yuuri in surprise. He wasn’t used to anyone coming to his defense and here was this total stranger speaking words of understanding and acceptance. “You really think so?”

“Of course I do,” Yuuri replied, his mahogany eyes glimmering with an inner steely resolve that intrigued the silver-haired man, pulling him unconsciously into Yuuri’s orbit. He wondered if Yuuri even realized his effect on him. “In fact,” Yuuri continued, breaking Viktor out of his reverie, “if our positions were reversed and it was my family’s wellbeing on the line, I probably would have done the same thing or at least something similarly desperate.”

“And now here I am, pulling you away from them, perhaps forever,” Viktor replied, his blue gaze falling to his pale-skinned, calloused hands resting in his lap as the shame and guilt washed over him. “I’m so sorry, Yuuri.”

A third hand placed itself over his own weathered ones, startling him. It had been so long since he’d been intentionally touched by another. All of the members of the Cirque intentionally kept their distance, even the ones who had forgiven him for his mistake. He’d almost forgotten what the sensation of being touched felt like, resigning himself to the isolation that he had accepted as part of his eternal punishment.

“I made my choice, Viktor,” Yuuri said softly, squeezing his hand gently. “Something within me tells me that I’m meant to help you. I don’t know how or why, but I do know that if I had walked away from you, I would have never forgiven myself. I’m sorry, but you’re stuck with me, at least until we’ve figured this out.”

Viktor offered a tiny smile at Yuuri’s words, relishing the warmth emanating from his hand on his own. “I can think of worse things than being stuck with you, Yuuri.”

Yuuri’s responding blush was enough to warm Viktor more than he’d been in over a hundred years.

Intriguing.

Maybe the cards really did know what they were doing.

Maybe, finally, something would go right.

There was a first time for everything, he supposed.

The two men stayed in that position for a long time, one hand atop the other, brown eyes considering blue. Neither man seemed to want to move first and break the connection that they could not begin to understand but both agreed in their hearts that it was sorely needed.

Only the great yawn that emanated from the raven-haired man broke the moment.

Viktor smiled indulgently, suppressing a fond chuckle just barely. “It’s been a long day for you, I imagine. Let me make up a bed for you.” He raised himself from his chair and moved to the nearby red velvet couch, which was a study in old-world elegance that had long been forgotten by the outside world. Viktor collected a cacophony of blankets and pillows of all sizes and fabrics and slowly tucked them into the couch in a semblance of a cozy nest. Once he was satisfied, Viktor straightened and turned to Yuuri, who had been watching the ritual with fascination. He wondered how often this ritual had been repeated over the years, as it seemed like Viktor’s motions were wrought from frequent practice. His thoughts derailed entirely, though, when Viktor smiled.

“It’s not much,” the silver-haired man explained apologetically, “but we can see about giving you more permanent lodgings tomorrow.”

“It’s perfect. Thank you, Viktor. For the bed and for the story,” Yuuri replied with a soft returned smile that did things to Viktor’s heart he’d never felt before.

“It was and is my pleasure.” Viktor bowed slightly. “I bid you good night, dear Yuuri.”

Yuuri flushed bright red at the term of endearment. How was this man capable of entirely unnerving him with a single word? Something to ponder at another time, when he was alone and safe from scrutiny. “Good night, Viktor. Sleep well,” Yuuri said through his blush.

Before he did something he might regret, like enclosing Yuuri into his arms like he inexplicably wanted to do, Viktor swept from the sitting room to his bedroom. He collapsed onto his bed, staring at the ceiling, thoughts whirling a mile a minute inside his brain. What did this mean? What did any of this mean?

Then he pictured Yuuri’s soulful brown eyes, and his thoughts stilled. He found himself smiling like he hadn’t smiled in a long time. A true, genuine smile spread across his face, meant not for public display but for something more, something genuine.

Happiness. It was an emotion that had eluded him for more than a hundred years and now, here it was making itself known because of a few kind words and unexpected, soft touches. Understanding, not pity or resentment, was threaded into every facet of this first meeting with the mysterious Yuuri Katsuki, causing Viktor’s heart to beat to an entirely different, unknown rhythm.

Still smiling, Viktor Nikiforov drifted off to sleep with thoughts of Yuuri dancing in his head like the lights he controlled.

Sleep was long elusive for the occupant of the sitting room, despite his apparent exhaustion. Yuuri played and replayed Viktor’s story in his mind, trying to make sense of his possible role in this mad puzzle of debts, demons, and magic. What did it mean? What could it mean? And more importantly, how could someone as unremarkable as he possibly hope to make any kind of a difference?

But he thought of the sadness in Viktor’s beautiful blue eyes and desperately wanted to try. No one that lovely or that kind deserved so much sorrow. Silently he vowed to the encroaching shadows around him to do whatever he could to change the terrible hand that Fate had dealt to the enigmatic ringmaster and his family.

And if he, in turn, figured out why he felt so drawn to the silver-haired man when he’d never felt anything remotely like that in his entire life, all the better.

Yuuri didn’t even realize the moment when sleep finally claimed him for its own, drawing him down into its inky oblivion.

Tomorrow would be another long, confusing day. Of that, he had no doubt.

Chapter Text

Yuuri stirred awake from a nightmare that involved him being chased by a menacing shadowy figure who bore a strong resemblance to the representation of Krestovoi in Viktor’s story from the night before. Despite the unpleasantness of the dream, crawling himself back to wakefulness was still a challenge. He groaned softly as the last vestiges of sleep stubbornly refused to recede. At last, his eyes permitted themselves to crack open and he emitted a long sigh.

When his eyes focused, he froze in shock.

His exhaled breath traveled from his body in a very visible white cloud. Like it was the dead of winter. Confused, he sat up.

The couch and blankets bundled about him were all covered in a sheet of ice, yet he wasn’t freezing. He didn’t feel cold at all.

What was going on?!

He yelped audibly and managed to upset his balance, crashing to the floor beside the couch. The ice layer began to retreat with the loss of contact.

“I’d wondered if the magic would manifest itself in you,” Yuuri heard Viktor’s voice travel toward him as the man himself approached, clad in a purple velvet dressing gown, blue eyes sparkling with excitement. “It’s different for everyone. A few residents weren’t given a gift at all when they joined our little community, so I didn’t know for certain if you would receive one. I’ll have to admit ice is a gift I haven’t seen before. How interesting.”

“Yeah. Super interesting,” Yuuri replied sarcastically. “Now how do I turn it off?”

“I’m afraid that’s not possible,” Viktor returned with an apologetic expression. “Once our...gifts, for lack of a better term, appear, they don’t go away. As you learn how to use them, they will get stronger, but you’ll also gain control so that such unpleasantness as a frozen bed doesn’t keep happening. If that’s a small consolation.”

Yuuri huffed a puff of frozen air, clearly annoyed.

Viktor’s blue eyes dimmed as he lowered his head. “I’m truly sorry, Yuuri,” he said softly.

Yuuri immediately felt sorry for the other man, who was clearly blaming himself for Yuuri’s reaction to his new “gift.” “It’s okay, Viktor,” Yuuri reassured. “It’s just something I wasn’t expecting to have to deal with on top of, well, all of this.”

Viktor lifted his head, nodding sadly. “I understand. And you have every right to be angry with me.”

Yuuri stepped forward and took Viktor’s hand, squeezing it gently. Viktor shivered at the contact, sending a pleasant vibration through the connection. “I’m not angry with you,” he said softly. “It’s just a lot to deal with.”

“I…I can help you with learning to control it, if you’d like,” Viktor replied softly. “It’s the least I can do.”

Yuuri smiled at the silver-haired man, so hesitant and uncertain, as if he was dealing with a skittish deer who might bolt at any moment. “I would like that very much,” he replied, trying to keep the blush from spreading across his cheeks with minimal success.

It was at that moment that they both realized that they were still holding hands. Awkwardly clearing his throat, Yuuri pulled his hand away, trying not to think about how empty it now felt. He chanced a glance up at Viktor’s face to determine his mood, his breath catching when he noticed that the man’s cheeks were as pink as his own must surely be.

He looked so beautiful like that.

Yuuri shook his head, quickly dispelling that little bit of never-gonna-happen. Get a grip, Katsuki, he chastised himself. He’s way out of your league.

During Yuuri’s inner monologue, Viktor had pulled himself together enough to suggest a change of subject. “Would you like a tour of the circus from an insider’s perspective, Yuuri?”

Grateful for the distraction from his self-flagellation, Yuuri nodded. “That would be great.”

Viktor smiled sunnily. “Let me just get dressed and I’ll be ready to go in two shakes!” he declared before disappearing into his bedroom with a violet flourish of velvet material. Yuuri chuckled at how excited the other man appeared all of a sudden. Kind of like a puppy overjoyed at the prospect of pleasing him. It made his head swim when he considered how many different personas Viktor had managed to cultivate all in such a short span of time. It made the silver-haired man even more captivating.

The bedroom door swung open and out stepped Viktor dressed in a grey three-piece suit that hugged his trim body perfectly. Yuuri swallowed the lump that had suddenly appeared in his throat. I am so very gay, he thought to himself as Viktor excitedly led him out of the wagon, wasting no time to point out everything and anything that appeared in view. Viktor was the most energetic tour guide Yuuri could possibly imagine, but for whatever reason it just made him more endearing rather than overbearing.

Viktor was about to show him the backstage area of the Big Top tent when he heard what sounded like an animalistic growl coming from behind them. Yuuri whirled around to confront the sound when he was met by a skinny blond teenager with a fierce expression and snapping green eyes stomping straight toward them.

“Not fucking again!” the boy snarled at the top of his lungs. “Not another idiot who can’t read the sign. It says all out by midnight for a reason, dumbass!” The boy stopped stomping and thrust a bony finger into Viktor’s chest. “This is your fault! Your fucking curse keeps collecting stray people and forcing us to deal with them whether we want to or not! I hope you’re happy, you big idiot. You managed to ruin yet another life.”

Seeing Viktor visibly wilt caused righteous anger to bubble up within Yuuri. Taking a deep breath, he stepped forward between Viktor and his assailant.

“I chose to stay. It’s not Viktor’s fault at all. So I’d appreciate it if you stopped beating him up for something he didn’t do. What good does it do to berate him like that? As I’ve heard it, we’re all stuck here together. Why make things more unpleasant than they need to be?”

The boy stepped back, green eyes wide with surprise at being challenged. He recovered quickly, however, and resumed his scowl. “And just who the fuck are you, to choose this hell voluntarily?”

Yuuri tried a disarming smile and offered his hand to shake. “Yuuri Katsuki. Nice to meet you…”

“Oh HELL no. You’re not allowed to have the same name as me. I’ve had it for a hundred years and I will NOT share!” the boy screamed, causing Yuuri to waver in his attempt at a cordial greeting.

Viktor stepped out from behind Yuuri, a placating smile on his face. “Now Yura, I’m sure we can work something out. Maybe it’s a perfect opportunity to try out something a little different, hm?” He placed a long finger on his lips, considering the potential possibilities. “I know! From now on, we can call you Yurio. That should remove all confusion about who we’re referring to.”

The newly dubbed Yurio hissed like a cat in protest. “You can’t do that! Why should I have to change my name? I’ve been here since the beginning!”

“But we want to make our newest addition feel welcome, don’t we? We shouldn’t force him to give up his name after he’s just given up everything else to join our little family. Right, Yurio?” Viktor admonished gently.

The sound of grumbling coming from Yurio indicated that he couldn’t care less about making Yuuri feel welcome. Viktor, however, chose to ignore it.

“Now let me offer formal introductions!” Viktor chirped. “Yuuri, please meet Yurio Plisetsky, one of the original troupe members. He works with cats of all shapes and sizes. His gift is the ability to communicate with those of the feline persuasion.”

“And a good thing, too. Cats are better conversationalists than you lot of losers,” Yurio added with a snarl.

Hesitantly, Yuuri re-offered his hand for Yurio to shake. “It’s nice to meet you,” he said kindly to the bristly boy.

Yurio simply harrumphed, not offering his own hand to complete the friendly gesture. Instead, he looked at Yuuri’s hand as if it personally offended him. Yuuri’s resolve wavered and his anxiety began to rise. As if sensing his discomfort, his newfound “gift” chose that moment to reappear, coating his outstretched hand in a thin veneer of glimmering ice. Yuuri gasped, not in pain but surprise. The boy opposite him raised his eyebrows in equal surprise but quickly tamped it down with another sneer.

“Ice, huh?” he sounded almost impressed, but quickly recorrected, drawing himself up as much as his slight frame would allow. “Well, you’re not special, you know! Look. You’re here now so there’s nothing to be done about it, much as I wish I could never see your ugly face ever again. Just make yourself useful and stay out of my way.”

With a last glare, the boy stomped away toward a nearby large tent, presumably where the cats he worked with were housed.

Yuuri stared after him for several minutes, dread building in his chest. Was this how he was going to be treated from now on?

Viktor placed a reassuring hand on Yuuri’s shoulder. “Yurio comes off prickly at first, but you’ll get used to it. There’s very little actual venom in his bite. Unless it’s towards me, that is,” he added with a self-deprecating laugh.

Yuuri frowned at that but chose not to comment, instead asking, “is that how everyone acts around here?” willing his voice not to waver with his anxiety.

“No, that level of attitude problem is reserved for him alone. I assure you that the rest of the troupe will welcome you without reservation,” Viktor replied soothingly.

Yuuri nodded, not entirely convinced but choosing to hope that Viktor wasn’t being overly optimistic.

Viktor resumed their tour, entering the backstage area of the Big Top. Yuuri took everything in with wide eyes full of wonder. When he encountered the silk scarves that had suspended Viktor high above the crowd the night before, he reached out timidly to reverently run them through his fingers. The scarves flowed like water in his calloused hands.

Viktor watched with wide eyes, moved by the potential intimacy of such a gesture. But he quickly shook his head to dispel such notions. He was seeing things that weren’t actually real, the product of a too-lonely existence, no doubt. He suppressed a heavy sigh. Such things like intimacy, closeness, or heaven forbid romance were not meant for him. He’d made his peace with that inevitability years ago. But for whatever reason, today his brain refused to see reality. Probably because of his lapse into insanity, his impulsive nature rushed forward before reason could tamp it down. He opened his mouth and uttered words he knew already that his poor heart would come to regret:

“I could teach you, if you’re interested.”

Yuuri turned to him with eyes glimmering that caused Viktor’s heart to momentarily cease beating. “Really?”

Viktor chuckled fondly at the other man who was too adorable for this world. “Of course. I’d be happy to.”

But instead of more unbridled joy from Yuuri as Viktor had hoped, the raven-haired man seemed to retreat into himself. “I…shouldn’t. I’m sure I’d be terrible at it and waste your time…”

“How do you know you’d be terrible if you don’t try?” Viktor asked gently.

Yuuri looked down. “Because I’m not exceptional like you are. I’m just an ordinary inn worker. I don’t have any special skills or anything.”

“But you’re wrong, Yuuri,” Viktor corrected. “You do have exceptional skills. You can create ice from nothing. Who’s to say you don’t have other skills you don’t even know about yet?”

Yuuri shrugged, allowing his eyes to drift back over to the hanging silk scarves. He allowed himself to reach out to them once again, wistfully letting the soft fabric slide through his fingers, which once again sported a thin veneer of sparkling ice. A soft smile crossed his face as he lost himself in the possibility of learning to soar above a crowd of awestruck spectators. He pulled his hand away and turned back to Viktor.

“If it wouldn’t be too much trouble, I’d like to try,” he said softly but with a hint of steel resolution in his voice.

Viktor smiled. “It would be an honor to teach you, Yuuri.”

Before Yuuri could stutter out a grateful reply, another voice cut through their moment. Unlike the last time this had happened, the voice was amused rather than angry.

“I heard we’d picked up another stray, but I see he’s already been adopted,” a tall female with flame-red shoulder-length hair stepped into their line of sight with a playful smirk on her face.

Yuuri responded with a confused look as Viktor tried to use telepathy skills he didn’t possess to will the woman not to say anything else to embarrass him. In order to steer the conversation into safer waters, he decided to offer introductions.

“Yuuri, this is Mila Babicheva, another original troupe member and the circus’ strongwoman. Don’t let her talk you into arm wrestling with her. You will lose. Trust me on this,” Viktor offered with a wink to the Japanese man.

Yuuri turned pink but managed to stutter out, “n-nice to m-meet you Mila. I’m Yuuri Katsuki.”

Mila chuckled. “Oh, aren’t you just precious. Vitya, make sure you cherish this one or I might just steal him from you.”

While Yuuri simply looked confused at such a bizarre turn of phrase being directed at the likes of him, the silver-haired man beside him sported a full-on scowl at the redheaded woman, which Yuuri missed entirely. Mila simply laughed.

“I’ve been waiting ages to tease you like this, Vitya,” Mila added. “Now it seems it’s finally my chance. Welcome Yuuri. I’m sure your addition to our troupe will be nothing but incredibly…illuminating?” Laughing merrily, she swept off, quickly disappearing from view.

“That was…I’m not entirely sure what that was,” Yuuri murmured, mystified.

“Don’t worry about it, luchik,” Viktor replied with forced cheerfulness. “Shall we continue our tour?”

“Luchik? What does that mean?” Yuuri asked as Viktor steered him down a lane lined with tents. But Viktor simply hummed, not divulging the answer.

Yuuri didn’t have much time to dwell on it, however, because he was quickly consumed by a flurry of introductions, desperately hoping to remember all the names flung at him left and right.

He met the final original troupe member, Georgi, who was the circus’ illusionist, as well as his assistant Anya. She had arrived a decade later but now seemed thoroughly unhappy about everything, especially her prolonged proximity to Georgi, despite the man’s constant over-the-top praising of her eternal beauty. She also seemed personally affronted when Yuuri’s gift manifested itself yet again, complaining loudly about being slighted by the magic and receiving nothing despite all her struggles. Georgi tried to console her, only to be brutally rebuffed. It was altogether very disheartening to watch, and it made Yuuri very uncomfortable. He was glad when they quickly moved on, the pair’s bickering finally going out of earshot.

That left the small collection of individuals who, for various reasons which only some would admit, had found themselves trapped within the unchanging fabric of the Cirque Fantastique, to endure the passage of time as observers rather than active players in the mortal world. Later that night, as Viktor steered them toward where the tents stood on the outskirts of the circus grounds, Yuuri tried to remember their names.

There were the twins, Sara and Michele Crispino, who went nearly everywhere together, much to Sara’s obvious annoyance. They’d been given the gift of perfect balance, which they’d honed into a breathtaking amount of skill on the trapeze.

Otabek Altin, who they had picked up in the forties from Kazakhstan, was gifted with fire very similar to Yuuri’s ice ability and demonstrated remarkable control all while maintaining a stoic air that completely belied the fact that one wrong move would cause some spectator severe burn damage. However, despite appearing unapproachable, he seemed amenable to answering Yuuri’s questions about how he’d learned to control his newfound powers, which Yuuri found very helpful.

Seung Gil Lee from war-torn 1960s Korea was the resident horse whisperer, who, similarly to Yurio, related to the animals on a level that no regular person could ever hope to achieve. The fact that he preferred his four-legged companions to any person was an added bonus for the man, Yuuri rationalized as he resolved to leave the man alone as much as possible.

Kenjiro Minami was the youngest member of the troupe, who had hidden among the tents from bullies in the 1980s and then fallen asleep, waking up to be trapped in the circus without the ability to return home. But nothing seemed to dull his mood, however. He was the perfect person to interact with the public via ticket sales. Minami, as he preferred to be called, clung to Yuuri like a little blond burr for half the day until Viktor shooed him away at last to perform some task or other. Pouting, he went, but not before extracting a promise that he could visit Yuuri again soon. Yuuri indulged the boy uneasily, not really understanding what he saw in him, but not wanting to make waves in his new home on his first day.

Emil Nekola handled everything technical for the circus and managed the stage and set design. He’d gone to the circus hoping to find his friend Michele a year after he’d disappeared, and once he’d pried out of the man that he couldn’t leave, he’d decided to stay as well. Emill’s irrepressible good nature was the perfect foil to the prickly Italian and his gift of being a genius with tools made him invaluable to the circus.

Then there was Christophe Giacometti the fortune teller, who had simply shown up one day without fanfare or reason (that he would divulge) in the 1920s and never left. His reasons were his own, the man simply said. Viktor rolled his eyes. Apparently, Christophe resolutely clung to his air of mystery with all of the troupe members, doling out pearls of what could sometimes pass as wisdom with the same air he dealt out his tarot cards: with a penchant for riddles that made everyone’s heads hurt.

Finally, the day drew to a close and Viktor led Yuuri back to the long line of wagons where he’d spent the previous night. They walked in companionable silence, not needing to fill it with idle chatter. It was nice, Yuuri mused with a measure of bewilderment. He’d only known Viktor a day but felt more comfortable in his presence than he’d felt with anyone who wasn’t his immediate family. He couldn’t begin to figure out why. The implications that lay within that revelation made his head hurt as much as one of Christophe’s riddles.

Yuuri was so lost in his musings that he didn’t notice when Viktor stopped walking and nearly bowled right into him. Viktor simply smiled at Yuuri’s clumsiness, not commenting, much to his relief.

“It seems your lodgings have appeared while we were out,” he said, pointing out a wagon that definitely wasn’t there that morning. It was painted blue with delicate white snowflakes scattered across the wood panels. Yuuri gasped.

“That’s mine?” he whispered, as if any louder volume would cause the apparition to vanish.

Viktor nodded. “Shall we see what the magic conjured for you?” he asked softly, holding out his hand.

Yuuri stared at the hand, hesitating for only a moment, before nodding his agreement and placing his hand atop the other man’s. Viktor smiled even wider before leading him to the door of the newly appeared wagon. Letting go of Viktor, he ascended the three sturdy steps. The door opened invitingly at his approach, causing Yuuri to suck in his breath. This magic thing was going to take a lot of getting used to.

Cautiously, he stepped inside, Viktor following closely behind. The interior was adorned in cozy plush surfaces, from the overstuffed chairs to the rugs on the ground. It was exactly what he would have chosen for himself if he’d been given the chance. He couldn’t keep himself from smiling as he took in every element of hominess that surrounded him.

“The magic has done well, I assume?” Viktor asked, taking in his companion’s reaction.

Yuuri nodded, a blush dotting his cheeks. “Very well. It’s lovely.”

“Then I’m glad. I’ll leave you to get settled. Have a good night, Yuuri.” Bowing slightly, Viktor turned toward the door.

“Thank you, Viktor. For today,” Yuuri replied softly, the blush on his cheeks growing.

“It was entirely my pleasure,” Viktor returned with a wide smile that resembled a heart. “Until tomorrow.”

Yuuri stayed planted to the spot for long moments after Viktor’s departure. His mind refused to rest despite his exhaustion. He’d just entered an entirely foreign world of show and spectacle, something he’d spent his entire life trying to shy away from. But now, inexplicably and undeservedly, he had a chance to reinvent himself. No longer did he need to be the shy wallflower who kept to the shadows, head down and unremarkable. Here, in this mysterious place, he could be something different, something worthwhile for once in his life.

He found himself grinning with excitement at the possibility.

Tomorrow he would grab hold of this new opportunity that fate had given him.

Tomorrow a new Yuuri would emerge.