Victor Nikiforov. Underneath that charming exterior laid a psychopathic mind. Kindly, yet ruthless to get what he wants. Outwardly, he possessed confident charm; inwardly he concealed a maddening intrigue that registered faintly on the edges of Yuuri's consciousness. To put it briefly, Victor was infuriatingly seductive in a way that drove Yuuri Katsuki insane. A smile played across his thin lips. Little creases formed at the corners of his ocean-blue eyes, like delicate cracks on a frozen lake.
The kingpin of Black Bear gazed straight into Yuuri's nervous eyes, reaching a slender hand to tilt Yuuri's chin up and inspect him with intense scrutiny. At the physical contact and close proximity, Yuuri felt wobbly at the knees.
"You'll do." Victor's voice echoed in the darkness.
Yuuri could think of no response, only a fast pounding in his heart that he couldn't stop. Before Yuuri could say anything, Victor spoke again. "My humblest apologies for this sudden preposition, but it seems you don't have a choice, no?"
"I...I'll do it. Just tell me what to do." Yuuri found himself saying, completely entranced as if under a spell.
Victor nodded, his faint smile seem to convey an unspoken understanding.
"You'll receive word of my instruction soon. But alas, I have other affairs to attend to,"
Just like that, his elegant figure receded into the darkness of the cavernous warehouse carrying a drug fortune of one thousand tons of foreign contraband.
The agony all began with a delivery of Katsudon. But before the Katsudon, the ice rink.
The day began as it always did. Yuuri Katsuki forced himself up in the unforgivingly frigid dawn, a time when the city was still silent as a tomb. His housemate, Thai exchange student Phichit Chulanont, was enviably warm and fast asleep. Yuuri stretched to warm himself up in the freezing December chill, collected his stuff, and quietly tiptoed out of the apartment so as not to wake Phichit.
As soon as he came into the ice rink, he plopped down on the bench and laced up his favorite pair of ice skates. No one else was here at 6am. It was his time to reflect, to collect himself before the day really started.
Soon enough, the agile 21-year-old glided forward onto the ice. He nimbly worked his legs into a familiar rhythm, building up speed as he went round and round the small rink.
Here, Yuuri was free. Here, he didn't have to think about the stress of his university final exams, or about the break-up with Yuuko that happened two weeks ago.
Shit, don't think about Yuuko..
Yuuri felt himself beginning to slow down and lose his pace when his thoughts strayed to her. He thought the two of them were doing so well, and even with their busy school schedules, had always made time to see each other. For many months, their relationship had continued forward at a careful but steady pace, like a child taking his first steps out onto the ice. But recently, Yuuko seemed more and more withdrawn from him, neglecting to respond to any messages, and even looked a bit sad when he saw her last.
Then finally, two weeks ago, he got the Line message from her: "I'm really sorry Yuuri..I don't think we're working out..I think I just need some space."
The impact of that one message first hit him like a ton of bricks. It felt similar to the sensation of unexpectedly failing a move, the sudden and unforgiving fall onto hard ice.
She had stopped replying to him completely after that last message, and Yuuri began to try and accept the hard facts that come with a break-up. Over the past two weeks, he gradually began to numb himself with longer ice skating sessions and study time in the university computer lab. If he kept busy, if he kept his mind occupied, he could try to move on.
Skating...his first and foremost joy in life. He'd been out on the ice as long as he could remember, and even as a little kid he relished the joys and freedom it allowed him; he savored the heady rush of adrenaline that came with all the speed, technique, and flourish of a jump or a spin. Like a soaring bird, or a newborn fish dipping into the pond of life, Yuuri could feel himself born anew with every session, good or bad.
For this one today, he decided to start with warm-ups. He glided back and forth, sweeping his legs across the ice, criss-crossing his legs as he leaned into the curve of the skating rink.
Find your rhythm, don't think, just skate...Yuuri told himself.
Pumping his legs to glide towards the opposite side, Yuuri tensed his body into a tight spin, spinning around once, twice, then three times. On the third spin, he saw something on the corner of his vision flash by.
What? Someone...watching him? It couldn't be. No one was ever here at 6 in the morning.
But yes, someone, a tall figure who stood out as immediately handsome, with his angular face lit up by the artificial rink lights.
Yuuri tried to continue his practice as planned, but this mysterious stranger occupied all thoughts. Oops! He hardly noticed he was about to collide into the rink wall. Turning away at the last second, kicking up some ice powder with the edge of his skates, he turned to face the stranger.
He was...? Caucasian. Definitely not Japanese. Dressed in oddly formal Western attire, a black pinstriped suit and blood-red tie, with a felt hat perched over his silver bangs swept back in a stylish, suave manner. The stranger was still a young man, definitely a few years older than Yuuri, perhaps visiting Japan on a business trip? Surely it was odd that this lone stranger, sitting right in the front row, would come to observe him on this frigid winter's morning.
When they made eye contact from across the rink, the stranger smiled, coy and mischievous and instantly magnetic. Yuuri feel a funny, light feeling in his stomach, like a cloud of butterflies parting to reveal a secret garden. He realized he had stopped completely in his tracks. Just as Yuuri was having an intense internal debate on what to do, the man got up from his viewing seat, tipping his hat in farewell, and left.
What just happened…
A mixture of confusion intermingled with intrigue and wonder bubbled up inside Yuuri. He wanted to continue with spins, but decided to quit early and head to campus for his morning class.
"Order up!"
Yuuri entered through the back door. The kitchen was filled with the busy sights, aromatic smells, and sounds of Japanese diner food being cooked by five line chefs keeping up a constant stream of new orders. It was nearing seven pm, the usual dinner rush at the Tonkatsu restaurant down the corner, Yoshibei.
His parents and financial aid could only support him so far in university, and taking up this part-time delivery job was better than nothing. He could deliver food anywhere in town on his city moped, plastered with a Yoshibei diner logo. At least the job paid enough for Yuuri's steady daily consumption of coffee and ramen.
"Yuuri! So glad you're finally here. I've got a special order for you to deliver!" The Yoshibei manager promptly pushed a delivery box into Yuuri's hands. "The client lives a bit further out than our usual crowd, so I wanted to make sure you take this one first,"
"Oh. Ok sure," Yuuri headed out the door, grabbing his red-and-white Yoshibei helmet and jacket on the way out. He put the key in the ignition, starting up the moped parked right out back. Snow began to fall. Light, delicate snowflakes touched his cheeks, his nose.
"Going so soon, Yuuri?" Takeshi, a fellow coworker and delivery man, stood smoking by the curb. "I just got on break."
"Yeah... turns out we have a special order? From a Mr…" Yuuri squinted at the delivery receipt in his hand. "Nikiforov?"
"Sounds very foreign, must be from out of town. I'm surprised they've heard of a tiny place like this," Takeshi said thoughtfully. "We hardly ever get anyone but locals."
Yuuri waved goodbye and got on his moped and sped away. The neon lights of a darkening city twinkled and flashed around him in a whirl of bright colors as the scooter sped through the city streets. Here and there, past the traffic sounds and low hum of his moped, Yuuri caught the whispers of a phone conversation from the sidewalk, "Love you too! I'll be home soon…" or he saw a pair of lovers walking arm and arm through the shopping district, pointing and gazing at the store displays. The snow began to fall faster now, causing a flurry of white to occasionally obscure his vision.
Yuuko...
Finally, the GPS directing him to the delivery address indicated the location was just around the corner. Yuuri skidded to a stop at the curb. He looked up at a block of grand, imposing townhouses, complete with pure-white marble pillars and gleaming Christmas lights strung from wrought iron balconies. The windows were fogged up, but nonetheless bright lights emanated from the house inside.
House No. 11…
Carrying the warm delivery box, Yuuri walked up the stairs to the covered door,. The door was freshly painted ebony black, with a shiny brass door knocker strangely sculpted in the shape of a snarling bear's head. He hesitated, almost afraid to use the door knocker, as though the bear might come to life and bite his hand. Strange tingles of unease and curiosity welled up from inside him, for absolutely no reason at all. It was just an ordinary job, and he should really hurry this up so he could get back to the diner and fill more orders..
As if stalling for one extra minute, Yuuri decided to check if the food was okay before he handed it off. The welcoming aroma of pork Katsudon hit his nostrils, like a warm hug in the evening chill.
But wait...Yuri froze. Stuffed in the cardboard box, around the pork cutlet bowl, were dozens of small, unmarked baggies, black and befuddling. Why were these here? He'd definitely never seen those before in a box of customer orders. There was a folded up note attached to the bowl, on the outside was the handwritten message "For Black Bear."
What the..?
Just as Yuuri was about to reach into the box, to take apart one of the bags and figure out just what was inside, the townhouse door opened abruptly, letting out a burst of warmth. A distant voice floated from within:
"Yuuri Katsuki, I presume? I've been waiting for you…"