Chapter Text
In two hours, Yuuri would be home.
It still felt unreal. His graduation had been a blur, and he'd spent most of it dazed, wondering if he was going to cry and feeling numb when he didn't. He'd said goodbye to Phichit at the end of it, his friend giving him a bone crushing hug and refusing to let go until Yuuri promised that yes, he'd text him every day and they'd video chat often. Parting ways with Celestino had been awkward, even though his coach seemed to understand and wished him well.
Yuuri couldn't help but think Celestino had been relieved to get rid of him, despite the smiles.
Especially considering how much of a disaster his season had been. Thinking about his last season was why his stomach was currently in knots. He should be happy, he was finally going to see his family after all this time and yet—
The thought of explaining why he was coming home to everyone had him almost losing the meager lunch he'd eaten on the train. Faintly, he rubbed his uneasy stomach through the layers of his coat, fingers expertly mapping out how much weight he'd gained. Reminding him how much he had to hide. He knew his parents wouldn't care, but Minako would. She was sure to notice as soon as she saw him, and explaining his weight meant explaining his season, neither of which he was sure he could manage without breaking down.
He sighed and looked out the window, trying to distract himself by watching the blurring landscape. His thoughts kept circling, pulling him apart at the seams as they taunted him. What was he going to do now if he didn't skate? His parents would welcome him home with open arms and bright smiles, as if he'd never left. They'd let him stay as long as he needed, would let him work in the onsen, indefinitely, even. But Mari would be disappointed. She wouldn't come out and say it though. He'd see it in her lingering looks as she smoked, in the toss of her head and the roll of her eyes. He was the one who'd left home, had made the break from their sleepy hometown; only to come crawling back after five years and an abysmal season.
Could he keep skating?
Yuuri clenched his hands, knowing his professional prospects were next to none. If Hasetsu hadn't been so rural, he might have found something skating for parties or even ice performances. As it was, his only option was possibly coaching, although he was still a bit young. Then again, who would want a coach that couldn't hold himself together during competitions?
At least if he never returned to professional skating, he wouldn't be able to make a fool of himself in front of an audience. Or Viktor.
He shuddered as a wave of anxiety rolled through him, leaving him hot and jittery, clutching at his hair until it passed. Theoretically, he knew Viktor probably hadn't seen him perform at the Grand Prix. Viktor hadn't recognized him when they'd passed in the lobby, after all. Yuuri still flinched at the memory. He wasn't sure what was worse, that Viktor hadn't thought him competition enough to watch, or that Viktor had watched and had seen how badly he'd done.
Dimly, Yuuri heard someone gasping for breath, and he realized it had to be him when he saw no one else around. Wheezing, he hunched over himself and tried to remember how to breathe. When that didn't work he checked his watch, watching the seconds tick away, grounding him. Barely ten minutes had passed though, and he still had to face home. He would not cry. There weren't tears pricking his eyes, his nose starting to run. Everyone was going to ask him why he was coming home. Disappointment and anger and looking at him like a failure because he wasn't strong enough. How had he'd thought he'd be able to manage this five years ago?
Shaky, he leaned his head against the glass, sinking into the cold touch against his too hot skin. His thoughts kept spiraling, a little swarm of sparrows. No, they were crows, large and pecking away until there was nothing left.
Eventually, much too soon, much too late, the train pulled into Hasetsu station.
So much had changed in five years.
There were now automated machines to dispense tickets and electronic displays gracing the edge of the platform as he stepped off, bag in hand. Escalators ran beside the stairs now, and they looked dirty and reeked of use, even though Yuuri knew they couldn't have been more than five years old. But despite how everything looked new, there were still familiar aspects. Like how the entire station looked older, soften than the ones in Detroit, rural in a way that spoke of low funds and home.
He smiled as he trailed a hand down the escalator, the railing pulling his fingers backwards. When he stepped off at the bottom, he took one look around and immediately remembered the biggest downside to living in the middle of nowhere.
There, plastered on seemingly every wall, were posters of Yuuri in one of his old skating outfits. Poised and graceful, staring off the page as if he was going to watch his competitors fall around him. Where had they even gotten that picture? He stared, thrown off and embarrassed and wondering why they still had it up. Surely they'd seen his last season? Yuuri groaned, wishing he could take them down or at least already be home already so he wouldn't run into anyone and have to explain why he was back or—
"Yuuri!" He jumped as a familiar voiced crooned his name. Spinning around, he came face to face with his old ballet teacher, Minako. She was holding a large banner that read 'Welcome Home Yuuri!!!' as she twirled.
He was struck, even as she stayed perfectly poised in an arabesque with a wide grin, at how much she'd aged. There were so many new lines around her face, and he hoped they were from laughter, not stress. But maybe they weren't new, and he only noticed because the spark that'd always been in her eyes seemed to be fainter now.
Dim.
"Well don't just stand there Yuuri, come give me a hug!" Minako said while setting the ridiculous banner aside and opening her arms wide. Before he could protest, Minako had swept him into tight hug, knocking the air from him. He froze, his arms pinned to his side and useless. She wouldn't notice his weight, would she? Before he could worry more, she squeezed him gently, her arms strong and exactly like he remembered. Involuntarily, he relaxed and hugged her back, chasing the familiar. Only then did she let go, grinning, her ears perking up.
Despite his years in Detroit, Minako was still the only Felisian he knew well. Mainly because although they weren't uncommon across the world, only a small population were native to Japan. Having grown up in such a rural area, Minako had actually been the only Felisian he'd met until he'd moved to Detroit. She had slender ears the same color as her hair, and an extremely short, kinked tail. Both were covered in short hair, and partly the reason she'd become such a famous dancer.
It wasn't that being a Felisian had given her an unfair advantage in dance. Most Felisians did have a better sense of balance and eyesight, but any other differences ended there. To make things more fair, most international sports had created rules against using one's tail for enhanced balance. For example, for both ballet and ice skating, Felisians were required to keep their tails underneath their uniforms in order to negate any innate balance advantages. But because Minako's tail was so short, she'd been allowed to perform with it out, and had become both famous and infamous for it.
People were either furious about her 'advantage' or inspired by her resilience. Yuuri just remembered how often he'd hung onto her tail as a child, seeking comfort, and had clung to her ears during piggyback rides.
"It's good to have you home. There are so many people waiting to see you though, so we should go," Minako said quickly, grabbing Yuuri's hand and tugging him toward the exit. He flushed at the thought of having to see everyone and explain why he was home.
That no, he didn't have plans.
That he couldn't skate.
He sucked in a breath, shaky as he planted his feet and pulled Minako back.
"Yuuri, they're all waiting for you, we should get going," Minako tried again, pulling gently at his hand as her ears flicked backwards in confusion.
"I can't," Yuuri managed, pulling his hand from hers as her ears fell. He looked away and took a step back. He knew he was a failure, and couldn't bear to see it reflected in her eyes. Maybe he could convince her to leave him here. He'd find a way home, wouldn't have to face anyone. Could hide for a bit longer.
"Excuse me sir." Yuuri startled at the new voice, turning to see an elderly woman with a small girl clutching her hand. "You wouldn't happen to be the young gentleman on the posters, would you?" His stomach rolled and he coughed, hastily pulling up the mask he'd been wearing.
"I'm sorry ma'am but I'm not—"
"Oh no you don't Yuuri," Minako interjected, grinning forcibly at him and taking his hand as she turned toward the pair. She plastered on a forced smile, years of performing letting her fall into it naturally. "If Viktor Nikiforov is nice to his fans, then you're going to be too," she hissed under her breath at him. The old woman was smiling, the little girl beside her looking at Minako in what looked like awe. She kept pulling on the woman's arm and pointing toward Minako. Resigned, Yuuri sighed and held out his hand, trying to mimic Minako's smile.
"Yes, that's me. It's a pleasure to meet you," he said, wishing he was home as the old woman shook his hand, starting to jabber away about him and how she was so proud to have met someone so famous from their little town. He grit his teeth against the praise, the bitter taste of bile in the back of his throat.
"Are they real?" The girl suddenly asked, still pointing up at Minako. Yuuri froze, stuck shaking the woman's hand as she refused to let go. Or stop talking. Minako laughed, crouching down and flicking her ears forward.
"Do they feel real to you?" she asked, amusement coloring her voice. The girl's mouth popped open and she immediately poked Minako's ears.
"They're real!" she exclaimed, bursting into giggles as Minako stood. Yuuri tried—and failed—to free his hand as the woman continued to ramble. He tried looking at Minako, begging for help, but she only nodded along at whatever the old woman was saying and made no move to leave. It took another five minutes before the woman let go of his hand and said her farewell, leaving with a smile. Yuuri collapsed into himself once she was gone, drained.
"Can we go home now?" he asked, almost pleading. His skin was starting to prickle from the prolonged touching, and his thoughts had devolved from spiraling into a gaping hole that sucked him dry. He couldn't handle running into anyone. Not after the long flight he barely slept on and the subsequently tiring train ride.
"Okay. Come on, we'll make the rounds another time," Minako said with a soft look. She urged Yuuri on but stayed at his side without touching him, for which he was immensely grateful.
They caught a cab to the inn, and the ride was short and silent, leaving Yuuri nervous and tapping his fingers across his knees. He should stop, but Minako was being too quite. Surely she'd be asking him a million questions by now? Wasn't she disappointed? Or just angry that he hadn't wanted to talk to that old woman. He should've tried to be nicer, smiled better, responded with more than his name and some half-hearted platitudes. Whatever was behind her silence, he knew on some level he'd failed her. She'd been the one to encourage him to start skating all those years ago, but he couldn't make himself broach the subject.
Didn't want to see the regret lurking in her gaze.
"We're here," Minako said at last, breaking the silence.
"Yes!" Yuuri replied quickly, jerking in his seat. Minako gave him a look, staring for a few moments as if searching for something before she shooed him out of the car. He grabbed his bags and then trailed behind her as they walked into Yu-topia. Hesitant, worry and dread bubbling inside his throat.
This was it.
Unless his parents let him sneak past and hide in his room. But he severely doubted that was going to happen.
"Hello!" Minako called out as they stepped inside, her ears perking up as she slipped off her shoes. Yuuri followed suit as he heard a gasp from the other room followed by the soft thudding of feet. Another moment and his mother appeared from around the corner, out of breath and still running until she came to a precarious halt in front of him.
"Yuuri!" Hiroko called out, and it was as if he'd never left. She radiated joy and warmth, and he was relieved to see she hadn't changed.
"Hi mom, you look great," he said with a smile. He was a kid again, pleasantly small before her.
"Oh Yuuri, you're too kind," Hiroko said, somehow still balanced on the edge of the step despite how she was literally bubbling with excitement. Suddenly, she threw out her arms, open, waiting, her eyes full of longing and a request, waiting for his response. He made a small noise, overwhelmed, and stepped forward to meet her halfway, wrapping his arms around her tight.
Even after all these years, she still waited for his permission, knowing he couldn't always handle the contact. Only Phichit had embraced this request with a second thought, and Yuuri had forgotten what it'd felt like to not have to worry. Hiroko hugged him just as tightly and he buried his face into her shoulder, enveloped in her scent for another moment before he pulled back.
"I'm sorry I never visited. I-I missed you," he said as he rubbed at his eyes under his glasses, entirely not crying. Well. He was only crying a little. Not that there was anything wrong if he was crying, but it would eventually smudge his glasses.
"All that matters is you're home safe," Hiroko said, beaming as she finally turned and welcomed Minako before waving them both further into the house. In the lobby, a few customers were still up, drinking and watching the television. Yuuri caught sight of his dad in the back of the room and went to greet him when his mother stopped, making him stumble a bit into her. He apologized quickly, and she turned and gave him a sad look.
He knew it had nothing to do with him running into her.
"I can't believe I almost forgot. Yuuri, do you want to see Vicchan?" Yuuri swallowed, his throat thick and eyes still damp. He berated himself for forgetting about his dog. That should have been the first thing he'd asked about and yet all he'd wanted to do was flop into his bed. Hiroko patted his arm and pointed down the hall, telling him to come back for dinner when he was done.
Walking into the dark room felt like a finality as he slid the door open. Of course, Vicchan had been gone for almost a year now but entering the dark room somehow made it more real. He didn't bother turning on the lights, as the darkness seemed to suit the mood and matched the churning emotions pulling at his stomach. Kneeling in front of the shrine, he looked at the picture of Vicchan and softly cried.
"I'm so sorry Vicchan," he said as he bent over himself. He should've been there for him, should've visited, should've insisted on having him flown over to join him in college and deal with paying a pet fee. He could've brought Vicchan along with him on his travels, would've been able to stop him from running out onto the road. Heshouldhaveheshouldhaveheshouldhave.
"Well, you look like shit." Yuuri blinked, clearing his eyes as he turned to see his sister leaning against the door and lazily smoking a cigarette. He almost asked her why she was smoking inside, and then he groaned and admitted defeat. He'd become accustomed to American laws. Mari raised an eyebrow, pulling another drag.
"So what's the plan? You helping out around here or what?" He winced, knowing that Mari would be the one to ask him first. He'd known, and still didn't have an answer.
"I...," he trailed off, taking a moment before deciding he might as well tell the truth. Mari would see through his lies and punch him for it anyways. "I don't know."
'I'm sure mom and dad would like it if you stayed."
"I know, it's just that—"
"I'd like the help too," she said, cutting him off. His face fell. Did everyone really only want him working here? "But then who would we have to brag about?" She took another drag of her cigarette, shifting away from the wall.
"But whatever, you'll figure something out," she said with a small smile. Yuuri returned it, shoving his dread away and trying to focus on how nice it was to see his sister again. How could he have thought five years wasn't a long time? "You should go soak in the onsen, you really look like you could use it." And with that, she turned and left. Yuuri stared after her, breathing loudly in the silence until he couldn't take it anymore.
He needed out.
Out of here, out of his mind, out of his skin that was itching and hot and wrong.
He stood abruptly, vision going fuzzy for a few moments. He blinked it away and went back into the lobby, taking a moment to greet his dad before he ran off. Rocking on his feet, he turned to leave when Minako popped up in front of him, staring at Yuuri too closely.
"Yuuri, you still haven't taken off your coat," she said with a twitch of her ears.
Yuuri felt everything stop. Except for his heart, which beat too loudly in his ears. This is what he'd been worried about. If only he could sneak back to his room before she could—
"What are you hiding under all those layers?" Without any other warning, Minako spun Yuuri around, undressing him with a practiced hand until he was down to his shirt and pants. He hastily tugged the former over his stomach, trying to hide everything.
Minako screeched.
"What is this Yuuri? This is not a figure skater's body!" she hissed, poking at his stomach as he flushed and pulled his shirt down more.
"You know I gain weight easily when I'm not skating," Yuuri softly said, afraid to look her in the eye. He knew it wasn't that she actually cared about his weight, but that she cared he wasn't actively skating. Upset, confused, and probably a bit hurt that he hadn't come to her for help. She glared, her tail twitching as much as it could. He pictured it lashing out behind her if it'd been long enough. As it was, her eyes made up for what her tail lacked, full of worry, not anger.
"I think he looks great Minako!" His mother chirped up from the back of the room, making Yuuri blush. And to his surprise, Minako started laughing and waved a hand.
"My studio's still open to you anytime." Yuuri's eyes widened.
"But what about your classes?"
"I only teach a few classes anymore," Minako softly replied, looking away. "There aren't many kids interested in dance these days." Yuuri heard the unspoken words: there aren't that many kids. He wished he could do something for her, but it wasn't like he could bring her students any more than he could bring customers to Yu-topia. His jitters came back as the somber mood settled over them.
He needed to get out, away from the nostalgia and concern.
"I'm sorry Minako. I mean, t-thank you but I need to—" Minako sighed, waving him off.
"Go, but don't stay out too long," she said with a growing smirk. "Viktor's skating tonight and you don't want to miss him." Yuuri blushed at that, trying to stammer out a response. Unable to manage, he turned and fled, grabbing his workout bag as he rushed into the chilly night.
And went where he'd always gone when he needed to get away.
He hadn't thought his plan through though. he ended up outside of Ice Castle Hasetsu, breathing heavily from running the entire way there. He was more out of shape then he'd like to admit, and he was currently trying to work up the nerve to go inside. Normally, he wouldn't hesitate, but he hadn't seen his childhood friend Yuuko in five years. For all he knew, she didn't work here anymore. Maybe she'd taken a better paying job to support her family? He pictured her triplets, small and feeble from being born a bit too early. Their tiny hands and mouths covered beneath the pre me monitors and tubes. How old would they be now? Five? Six? He blinked, trying to picture the small wrinkled messes as six-year olds.
He should probably stop staring at the entrance to the rink though, lest he look like some creeper. He was fairly sure the rink was closed by now anyways, although the lights were still on inside, albeit dimmer. He paced for another minute before deciding to take his chance and head inside. If Yuuko wasn't working, he'd turn and leave without bothering the new worker. No harm done.
Yuuri was beyond relived when he saw Yuuko's familiar figure bent over behind the check-in bar. He walked up to her, already smiling.
"Hey, mind if I skate for a bit?" Yuuko paused, still bent over and already talking as she stood.
"I'm sorry sir, but we're actually closed..." Her eyes widened as she realized who was standing in front of her.
"Yuuri!" she shouted, excited and almost falling over the bar as she leaned over it and took Yuuri's hands in her own. "It's been so long! How are you? Are you here to skate? Takeshi just resurfaced the ice so it's all good to go!" she blurted, her eyes sparkling. Yuuri laughed, relaxing in her familiar presence.
"I won't be long, but I would like to skate. I have something to show you, if you'll watch?" he asked hesitantly, fiddling with his glasses and looking away. He'd been preparing this surprise for almost a year now, but he'd come back later if she didn't want to watch him now. And needed to get home to her kids.
"Of course! I'll meet you out there," she said with a nod, still grinning and staring at Yuuri as if she hadn't seen him in years.
It had been five years, hadn't it?
The number haunted him at times.
Yuuko missed Yuuri's sudden frown, already having started off towards the rink. Pulling himself together, Yuuri went to change and methodically slipped on his too tight exercise clothes. He pulled his shirt down, ignoring the bulge as he leaned over to tie his skates. Ignored how his feet dug into his laces, pushing out from the ankles. Ignored the bitterness and frustration.
He had a show for Yuuko, after all.
Yuuri joined Yuuko in the rink, gasping at the sight of it. Unlike everything else, the rink looked exactly like it had when he'd left. Yuuko waved as he stepped onto the rink and skated over to her. He handed her his skate guards, and then took off his glasses. Everything went blurry as he handed them to her as well.
"Can you..." he trailed off, unsure what he was asking. Thankfully, Yuuko seemed to understand.
"I'll watch you Yuuri. Just do what you do best." Yuuri gave her a look and skated to the center of the rink. As he stopped, he realized his legs were shaking, minute shudders he couldn't stop. Weak, tired, nervous. Telling him he shouldn't be doing this.
It was surreal.
Being back in the Ice Castle with Yuuko watching, about to attempt something they'd been trying to do since they were kids. Attempt being the key word, he prayed he wouldn't mess this up.
At least Yuuko had seen him fail too many times to count. If he messed this up, one more time wouldn't be that bad, would it? He could do this, right? It wasn't like this was a competition or his entire skating career depended on it.
Well, what little what left of his career that is.
Really, there was nothing left. Nothing.
Yuuri swallowed, legs still shaking.
He couldn't do this.
But then he looked up and saw Yuuko watching him, still smiling, eyes bright and encouraging and full of love despite their blurriness from this distance. Yuuri bottled up his fears as he took a breath, shoving the bottle into the back of his mind. For Yuuko, he could do this.
Quietly, he moved into the starting position. He heard Yuuko gasp, and he had to stop himself from smiling. He knew she recognized the pose, and he let another moment pass before he began. He trailed his arms up slowly, the opening measures of music unraveling in his mind as he started Viktor Nikiforov's most recent routine.
And then he was lost in the ice, music spiraling out from his mind into his body. He channeled that bottle of worries, of loss, of fear into his movements, drawing out a longing as his blades cut cleanly as he executed each step. He didn't worry about his jumps, about points, or an audience. He simply was Viktor, moving into each jump effortlessly and landing them as if pulled on a string. His jumps melted into step sequences and his arms created music, morose and yearning, always grasping for someone out of reach.
He almost wished he could see Yuuko's reactions, but she was no more than a distinct blur in the corner of his eye. Then again, he'd become Viktor. There was a crowd in the stands, cheering on each move, each step, entranced by his performance.
He could do this.
Yuuri slipped into the second half of the routine like he'd been doing it for years. In a way, he figured, he had. Chasing his idol since childhood, mimicking his steps and routines and always striving, always pushing to be good enough to one day skate on the same ice as him. And after years of hard work, he'd gotten to do just that.
Yuuri faltered minutely in his step sequence, the Grand Prix swallowing him whole.
What was he doing, trying to skate Viktor's routine?
He was a dime-a-dozen skater, if even that after his last season. He wasn't Viktor, could never be Viktor. Was nothing more than a fan asking for an autograph in Viktor's mind, and wouldn't be anything other than that in the future. What was he trying to prove?
But Yuuri couldn't stop now. He was so close. Somehow he hadn't messed up so far, and he only had a little more to go. Feeling numb, he moved into a sit-spin, his world blurring completely. He could skate those last few moves, those last few lyrics, the melody crying out in agony as he echoed it, reaching out.
Always reaching out.
He spun out from the spin and skated backwards, gaining speed for the last jump. He almost always landed this jump, he'd done it so often in practice now. He would land it now, for Yuuko. Couldn't he pretend to be Viktor for a few more seconds?
The music surged in his mind and he bent, not daring to breathe. And then—
Yuuri jumped.
He didn't hear Yuuko's sudden gasp. Missed the tears that'd sprung to her eyes. Missed how she gripped her hands together, and when he crashed to the ice her nails bit through her skin into her palms.
All he knew was the world blurred as he took off. He knew he took off wrong even as he did it. There was nothing more he could do other than brace for the impending landing and try to make it as smooth as he could. Yuuri leaned to the side to compensate, but it wasn't enough.
His left foot came down hard, slipping sideways with a sickening crack that rang out in the silent rink. His body went down after that, his shoulder catching the rest of the fall as he brought his hands up to protect his head. He felt a pop and the faint scrape of ice against his face as he skidded to a stop.
He heard someone—himself?—wheeze in pain, and the sound of pounding feet. He dimly registered trying to tell Yuuko to not run on the ice in street shoes.
"Ohcrapohcrapohcrap!" He turned his head toward the new voice, trying to find the owner as a wave of pain rolled over him. Someone made a defeated sound again and then the world was swimming, crumpling into blackness until it was gone.