1.
Yuuri had been seven or eight years old as his sister asked him to help making sweets. At first it seemed like a distraction for her noisy little brother but Yuuri listened to the steps with earnest interest. But as he formed the round cakes carefully all his doubts resurfaced. What if he messed up? What if someone said it didn't taste right? What if he made the ugliest mochi because he was no good?
"I'll eat them no matter what. Like everyone in the inn would."
"Really?", Yuuri asked baring his heart on a silver platter, he feared it would shatter under harsh critique.
"Pinky promise." His sister offered, shaking their arms till they giggled joyfully.
And they all did. His parents tasted the rice cakes smiling, Mari ate one and asked him if he would like to help her next time, too. Even an elderly couple that was staying at the onsen offered him some well-meant advise but complemented his first try nevertheless.
On this day Yuuri realized two things.
First: he liked to create. He enjoyed to imagine and to shape things into something new like he did with skating. On the ice he shaped music and steps into a dance. But it was so unbelievable hard to explain this feelings to someone, especially to adults. He didn't knew the right words yet, maybe he would never find them.
And second: He could convey a message with mochi or a cake. Baking didn't need words. Yuuri didn't have to fumble sentences, stutter or fear his lacking conversational skill. He could express his feelings easily and everyone understood.
He could make people he cared for happy with just one bite.
If ice skating fuelled him to strive higher, baking was like magic - it conjured smiles and comfortable warmth well.