The Draft

FIRST SKATE

Starting today, I'm yours

Of the two I'm speaking to today, the one I was not expecting is late.

"He probably got stuck chatting to Minami." My first and currently sole guest chuckles good-naturedly. "I'll call him, hang on..." He plucks his phone out deftly but there's no need; I hear running footsteps, and I can tell that my other interviewee has arrived by the look on Victor Nikiforov's face as he looks up eagerly, his name being called out.

"Victor! Gomen!"

For a moment I am forgotten, and I watch as Yuri Katsuki practically runs into Nikiforov's arms. The former Japanese figure skater is wincing slightly as he catches his breath, and even as the taller Russian hugs him in greeting he berates him gently. "Baka, you didn't have to run..."

I'm in the lobby of Hasetsu Ice Castle, with figure skating's powerhouse couple. This is the place where Katsuki discovered his love of the ice as a child, where he trained to become one of the biggest names in figure skating internationally, and where he now instructs from, having retired two years ago.

"Ano..." Katsuki scratches his head sheepishly. "I accidentally did a quad-axel during practice, and landed badly..."

Two years ago, Katsuki's star was well and truly rising. Made famous by unexpectedly retaining Victor Nikiforov - the then five time Grand Prix Final and World Championship Gold medalist - as a coach and beginning a riveting rivalry with Yuri Plisetski, Russia's then debuting junior champion. In his second entry into the Grand Prix Final, held in Barcelona, Katsuki won Silver against Plisetski; Silver against Kazakhstan's Otabek Altin at the Four Continents Championship in Taipei; and beat both at the World Championships in Boston for Gold. To train for the 4CCs and the Worlds, Katsuki moved to St Petersburg with Nikiforov, practicing alongside Plisetski as he geared towards the European Championships. It was there in Russia, with the season over and preparing for the next, that he misjudged the number of turns for an axel jump during practice, and was rushed to hospital. Katsuki has never confirmed how bad the damage was, but soon after the surgery necessary, they returned to Hasetsu. It's always been suspected that he broke his leg, but Katsuki is naturally very shy, and has previously asked not to talk about it.

After the fall, their plans drastically changed; a couple of weeks later in a statement, on crutches and his leg in a cast, Yuri Katsuki announced his retirement due to the injury, citing advisement from his doctors. Immediately after, Victor Nikiforov announced his return to the ice, using the programs they had planned for Katsuki's follow-up. It would be regarded as Nikiforov's most challenging year to date; that summer was spent split between supporting Katsuki's recovery and preparing for his comeback, and he hadn't skated to someone else's choreography since he was a junior competitor. To boot, he had been out of competition for an entire year, and was the eldest on the ice - Plisetski was his junior by twelve years. It made for lacklustre interviews at the Trophée du France, his first Grand Prix assignment, as Katsuki was unable to attend. However Nikiforov transformed into his old self at the NHK Trophy in Osaka with his coach and partner at the rink's edge. At the Grand Prix Final in Seoul, Nikiforov reclaimed the World Record for the Short Program score from Plisetski, and returned to form by racking in the Golds again.

As for Plisetski, he has previously stated that that year was also his worst to date, torn between empathising for Katsuki, his own hungry ambition, and struggling to get out of Nikiforov's shadow. So, with neither adversary, it will be interesting to see if he will lack the motivation to return to the top of the podium. Both Nikiforov and Katsuki grin at the prospect.

Last year Nikiforov gave a statement saying that this season would be his last, and after winning his final Gold medal at the World Championship in Milan, a month after winning Gold at the Winter Olympics in Pyeongchang, he confirmed that he was happy, and done. I'm meant to be discussing that, his definitive retirement, at the age of 30, from competitive figure skating. But Nikiforov - "Victor, please!" - is in a reminiscent mood, and it's infectious. It is, after all, three years since a certain Youtube video went viral.

"Can you imagine what our lives would be like if that hadn't happened, if the triplets hadn't filmed and uploaded that video?!" Victor gushes, grinning widely at Katsuki. Katsuki's eyes widen, but not with Victor's enthusiasm. He doesn't want to imagine that, I guess.

Tell me about the video, I invite.

The two look at each other, and I sense a whole conversation happens in silence before my eyes. I wonder... is it in English, the international bridging language that Katsuki, a student in Detroit for five years, and Victor, who has spent over half his life on the professional sportsman circuit, are both fluent in? Or is it Russian or Japanese, which they have both been learning for the sake of the other, and randomly drop into sometimes in order to speak privately in front of me? Finally Victor nods his head to Katsuki, who smiles and pushes his glasses up and goes first.

"Well..."

I'm not sure where to begin...

Don't worry. Sure you want to go first? You never like talking about yourself with journalists.

Whereas you love talking about yourself a bit too much with anyone...

Hai, but you love me anyway.

... Zatknis'.

It's fine! Just start where you want and go from there.

Hai-hai. Ē to...

I remember this so vividly.

I was already descending from the track when I saw a glimpse of my former glory. Both literally and figuratively.

The posters everywhere [And the bunting]... I looked... ugh... I was reaching out towards my dreams in them. That's what I'd had in mind when that still was taken, when I was several sizes smaller and several stone lighter and my soul feeling nowhere near that heavy. It had been a horrible, humiliating season, with too much deep-fried food and too many days hidden under my duvet and not enough exercise to justify either. The posters [Don't forget the bunting]... hai... were a sharp reminder of how far I had strayed and how lost I felt. I was so naive... I think... I thought that I would be able to escape by going home.

[Escape from what?]

Well... it was back to a life before... before the failed season, before I wasted five years of my life in the US training for nothing. Somewhere safe where I could soak in my family's onsen and skate with my friends under the castle. In my head, back to a life before social media, and escalators even. It was home... the heat of the baths warmed my bones, the katsudon I'd missed so much filled the empty hole inside, and Yuuko-chan opened the rink up to me like always. My things were still in my bedroom... if I tried hard enough, I could make myself feel like I'd never left. I'd never gone to university and trained with Celestino, I'd never fallen on the ice so many times right before m-my hero, and I'd never cried in the toilet stall and had Yuri shout in my face that I was an idiot.

[And you'd never pole-danced with Chris.

... Hai.]

The illusion never lasted. The triplets were a lot bigger and louder and geekier that I had last seen them as screaming babies, more onsens had shut in my five year absence, Mari-neechan had more piercings in her ears... and Vicchan...

Still, there were the reliefs that I'd hoped for. I'd found catharsis in studying, learning, and performing Victor's program... segoi. It felt amazing, doing it.

I loved that program, Stay Close To Me, everything about it. I loved how physically taxing it was, particularly... given how overweight I was... yet every movement felt like natural expression. I loved the music, loved finding out more about it. I learnt that Victor made very specific requests for the lyrics, and the Italian translation made the words seem other-worldly, like a song from a dream. And then when translated... I wondered who he could hear weeping... why he felt abandoned... who he was afraid of losing... whose hands and legs he was so beguiled by...

[Ne, Victor... who was the song about?

Originally? No one really. An idea of a random face in a dream that I'd hoped to meet. Don't look at me like that, honestly it wasn't about anyone.

... 'Originally'?

Well... by the time I got to the Worlds... it was about brown eyes, blue grasses, and half-naked pole dancing.

Heh, don't remind me... chotto... EH?! NANI?! It... it was... watashi?!

Mochiron!]

When I got asked the question, I made up the answer. I knew, as the question was being asked, that I didn't know, and pretended to think about it, stroking my chin contemplatively, buying for time. Reel out some PR bullshit like they were expecting, or tell the truth, or... I wasn't sure what other options I had. Maybe...

What do you have in mind for next season?

... Spend time with my dog?

I bring this up because this is what I was thinking about when Chris messaged me.

I was on the ice, free skating to On Love. The fact that I can't remember whether it was Agape or Eros should tell you how far into my own thoughts I was, and how difficult I was finding it to finish either... how far away from the themes I actually was. I'd even forgotten to put my phone on silent.

I was unsure which I wanted to explore and express; the awe in Agape, or the salivation of Eros. They both felt... overly familiar to me. I'd done both, or notes of both, in my skating before. I knew that the programs that were forming were good - I enjoyed them, and knew that I could perfect them for competition - but... they didn't feel new. I wanted something different, something truly challenging...

I kept thinking about my early years, both starting as a dancer and then as a competitive figure skater. I'd come a long way from there, was very proud of my achievements, but... I knew that there were far fewer hurdles ahead to traverse than had been cleared behind me, and it had been much more exhilarating at the beginning. I wanted that, was chasing that, but couldn't find the right inspiration to turn it into a narrative, into a program. That would have suited me when I was raw, un-molded, unfinished. But I still had things I wanted to develop - my stamina for one, so that I could push my jumps back for higher scores - and... things that I wanted to experience. I didn't want agape or eros on the ice. I wanted them off.

I also wanted to go home and take Makkachin for a walk. He was dosing by my bag at the edge of the ice. Yakov had told me several times to stop bringing him to practice, but when I was home I didn't like leaving him. I only noticed that I'd had a message because Makkachin barked at me - I had far better discipline than to be checking social media during practice - but I was due a break. I turned the music off, gave Makkachin a treat, and checked my messages.

DUDE! HAVE YOU SEEN -

Was the preview on the home screen. Tapping the link, I put my headphones on, and watched the video Chris had sent me. And hit replay. And again.

The epiphany I'd had about exhilaration - which could have pushed me either way towards Agape or Eros - was forgotten.

I got off the ice, took off my skates, and went home. I watched the video on my walk to my apartment, Makkachin barking if he thought I was going to walk into something or someone, him leading me. I watched it again with my coat still on, my boots still on when I got in. I had a shower, and watched it again in just a towel.

A part of me was... PISSED. [Eeeeh?!] I mean... what the *?! That was my program he'd just copied! Flawlessly, as flawlessly as someone with that much donut-fat can! Where the hell did that come from?! If Yuri could skate like that, WHY HADN'T HE ALL SEASON?!

[... Heh-heh-heh...]

I wanted to see Yuri skate like that forever. I knew that immediately. Even with a gut and cellulite, I thought he looked beautiful. I remembered, painfully, both when he walked away from me in Sochi, like I was something he was afraid of, with emphasis on something not someone, and... the banquet. That boy could dance... it was god damned intoxicating, addictive, and utterly satisfying yet tantalisingly not. Seduction and rejection... Yuri... kono baka... [Gomen...]

I watched it again, clothed, with Makkachin snoozing on my lap. I knew... I knew the answer to the question at the end of the Worlds...

What do you have in mind for next season?

I'm going to book a flight to Fukuoka, pack up my things, arrange for my dog to come too, be Yuri Katsuki's coach, and he's going to win the Grand Prix Final gold medal. Bye! Dasvidaniya!

Oh, and tell my own coach I wasn't competing that year. Possibly the next year too.

I watched it again in the departures lounge, taking notes. He needed to lose weight. I was going to have to figure out, quickly, how it was that he could jump and land perfectly like that without an audience, without pressure, without even being aware he was being filmed, but not when it counted on the stage. And...

Why had he done this? I landed in Incheon, my stop over, and watched it again. Such... reverence... I knew that I had my fans, but... It was simultaneously the biggest ego boost and... incredibly humbling. Someone who I saw as my equal as a fellow skater, my potential surpasser even... thought this highly of me...

Wow.

Awe, I love it when your cheeks go that red.

... Shutupshutupshutup...

I love your god-triplets, the fabulous trip-otakus... I'm so glad that they hijacked their mother's Twitter account.

Watashi mo... watashi mo.

Social media's so awesome. Did you know that it took less than a minute to figure out where you lived? I put you into Google, figured out you were from Kyushu from your competition history, and scrolled down to find Yu-Topia run by the Katsuki family, with a picture of your parents. Done! By the time you were finding out that the Youtube video had gone viral, that it existed at all, I had people putting things into Ced-ex boxes to ship out overnight, and I was about to head to the airport! Even though you were five hours ahead of me, in the time it took me to check-in, get drunk at the bar in Pulkovo International, be seated, take-off, watch in-flight movies and eat something vaguely edible, land in Incheon, connect, have my in-flight drink, pick up my bags and Makkachin, get a taxi, check-in to your parents' onsen, get naked and into the water outside, you... what did you do again?

... Hai. I was... I was asleep.

The look on your face though... worth it.

To be continued...

Last Edit: 6/2/18

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Welcome to The Draft! Thank you for making it to the end of the first chapter without any explanation of what's going on!

Just a quick note really: this is based on the original Japanese dub, or more accurately the English subtitles of the original Japanese. Thus, I've tried to model Victor and Yuri's speech patterns based on that version, with a twist that I've hinted at in this chapter. In 'real life', I suspect that Yuri and Victor would converse in English; it's an international bridging language, particularly for sport. I can't think of a plausible reason why Victor Nikiforov, a Russian figure skater, would speak Japanese fluently before going to Hasetsu... whereas I don't need to stretch to think that either character would be fluent in English. As for the bits of Japanese and Russian that are in here... Google. Or lifted from them. Language will get a bit confusing perhaps later on, but for now... enjoy!

Please leave reviews. They make my day when they ping to my email and a human says something human to me.

Oh, and thingy about not owning copyright. A few geniuses in Japan are allowed to make money out of Yu-Topia et al. I am sadly not one of them.