Summary: Retirement wasn't a card on the table anymore. Not for Yuuri. It wasn't even in the deck. He'd moved beyond that notion, and skating with Victor, with Yurio, and Phichit, and every other competitor he had befriended over the years made it next to impossible to consider. Yuuri didn't want that. He wanted to keep skating forever.
But someone played his hand for him. Someone thrust the card into his fingers, and even if Yuuri discarded it, the memory of how it felt left a phantom chill upon his skin. Yuuri had no intention of retiring, but that moment taught him he would just have to push himself a little harder to make sure it didn't happen.
He could do that. It wasn't so hard - was it?
Rating: M
Tags: Yuuri Katsuki/Victor Nikiforov, Post-Canon, Established Relationship, Eating Disorders, Indirect Self-Harm, Self-Esteem Issues, Hurt/Comfort, Pining, Angst, Perfectionism, Unreliable Narrator
Disclaimer: Yuri! On Ice is the property of MPAA Studios. I do not own the original work (unfortunately, because it's wonderful), and all rights and appreciation go to the writers and producers of the wonderful show. Thank you!
WARNING: this story contains graphic depictions of eating disorders. If you think this might be triggering, please, please, PLEASE don't read. Such descriptions can be really quite damaging some people.
Chapter 1: May
Two years ago, Yuuri hadn't thought he could sink any lower. His failure at the Grand Prix and then the ensuring downward slide that had followed… He hadn't considered it possible that not only his career but his life could fall apart more dramatically. That low was made even more apparent by the utter high that had come after.
Victor. Yurio. The silver medal. The joy of skating with those he truly cared about and competing at his best.
Then, Yuuri hadn't even considered the possibility of sliding further. That was before he'd found himself on the bathroom floor, hugging the toilet bowel and wavering in an out of dizzying consciousness. That was before it hadn't become an unexpected event but a recurring theme.
His throat hurt. His tongue burned. He tasted of stinging bitterness and congealed mucous. His head throbbed, heartbeat pounding in his temple, and it took more effort than it was worth to open his eyes.
Yuuri's stomach roiled, hitched, and he leant forward slightly until his chin was all but hooked onto the bowel. The smell was thicker, cloying and sickly sweet, but Yuuri barely noticed it. It was a little hard to notice, to care, when everything throbbed. When it all ached, and he felt so, so heavy, and burningly hot, and –
His throat convulsed, and Yuuri swallowed. He smothered a groaned, dropping his forehead onto the porcelain instead. A part of his worried that he'd stained his shirt, but the larger part didn't care. Another part hated himself for slinking in isolation and admittedly self-pity, but the other half mulled and stewed in that feeling until it slogged even more thickly through his veins. Another part again regretted that he wasn't at that moment with his friends, his family, and that feeling…
That feeling won out. Over it all, it was those thoughts and that feeling that urged Yuuri to struggle, to raise his head, and to heave himself from the floor. He all but staggered into the toilet before grasping the wall, wavering on his feet. A deep breath, a herculean struggle to open his eyes, and he was straightening and swallowing the last of the bitterness in his mouth.
Yuuri turned from the bathroom. He flushed once, twice, a third time for good measure. Then he stepped with more casual ease than his slightly wobbly legs deemed feasible. A pause by the faucet , scrubbing his hands and spitting enough not quite enough to wash the taste from his mouth.
But that didn't matter. It was all a performance, and Yuuri had grown very adept at such exhibitions. So good that most of the time no one realised they were watching them at all.
~|Four Months Earlier|~
"Yuuri!"
Minako was upon him almost before he passed through the gate. Yuuri shouldn't have been surprised, should have expected it given she'd always been a demonstrative person, but he was still nearly bowled over as she crashed into him.
Stumbling back a step, his bags tumbling to the floor, Yuuri could do little but let himself be held. "Minako-san," he managed in little more than a choked gasp as she squeezed him fiercely. "What are you doing here?"
"You didn't think I'd let you catch a taxi all the way back home, now, did you?" Minako abruptly released him and took half a step back. She planted herself before him before grasping his shoulders instead. "What kind of a welcome home would that be?"
Yuuri smiled. He couldn't help himself, and not only because of Minako's familiar enthusiasm that he hadn't seen for so long, nor because she smiled so widely at him in return. Welcome home. It felt like it had been so long, even if it was only a little over a year and a half.
A whole year and a half since he'd last visited Japan… Yuuri would have to make sure if wasn't so long next time.
"Thank you," he said, accepting Minako's offer. "I'll be in your care, then."
If possible, Minako's smile widened further. Dropping her hands from Yuuri's shoulders, she scooped up one of his fallen bags. "Shall we get a move on? Everyone's so excited you're back. I think Yuuko-chan was going to stop by with the triplets at Yu-Topia tonight."
"Minako-san, I can carry that just fine," Yuuri said, reaching for the duffel bag she slung over her shoulder.
Minako flapped his hand aside. "You've got your hands full."
"I can manage with –"
"Don't argue," Minako said, pointing at him primly. "You can carry your own bags every other day of the year, but today is going to be the exception. All right?"
Yuuri could have protested. He wanted to, but Minako was already striding away from him, and the flood of people similarly departing from the airport still crowded around him. Shaking his head, Yuuri accepted the demanding imposition of help that was Minako's version of affection. She hadn't changed, and she likely never would. Yuuri was content for that realisation as he followed her from the airport. It was reassuring, in a way.
Minako was abuzz with chatter and questions as they stuffed Yuuri's bags into the boot of her beetle of a car. Yuuri had almost forgotten how loud she could be. So, so many questions and demands, flung towards him before he'd even climbed into the passenger seat and almost too fast for him to reply.
"Tell me everything about Worlds," she said as they pulled out of the modest car park. "I mean everything."
"Of course I watched all of it live-streamed," she continued on the highway. "Next season I'll make sure I get tickets. But that doesn't matter, you have to tell me anyway."
"Did you get pictures with everyone?" she demanded, all but two-wheeling around a turn. "Christophe, and Phichit, and Otabek – oh, and I hope you got the card I asked you to have autographed. Did you get everyone's signatures?"
"How is Victor?" she asked, then before Yuuri could reply, "and Yurio? Will they be coming to visit as well?"
And then, barely ten minutes into the drive, "I can't believe you went on a Europe holiday and didn't ask me along! Tell me all of it."
Yuuri was used to talking. Victor kept up a comfortable chatter throughout almost every moment of the day that they weren't deeply distracted in the throughs of skating, and Yurio was loud enough for three people when he was off the ice, and sometimes when he was on it, too. Yuuri had almost forgotten Minako had her own brand of loudness; when she demanded answers, it was oftentimes simpler to give them to her than to resist.
So Yuuri told her, and it was only as he spoke that he realised just how much had passed in the year and a half since he'd last been to Japan. He spoke of Saint Petersburg, of the jarring discordance of sinking into the routine of the Russian skating practice and how, despite his utterly dismal attempts at speaking their language, they by and large welcomed him with open arms.
Yuuri told her of his training, his practices, skating with Victor rather than simply as his student and Victor as his coach. Minako stifled herself for a moment at that; something about Yuuri's words must have struck her for just how much he wanted ot speak of it. She let him babble for a time.
He spoke of the Grand Prix that had passed, the Four Continents Competition, Worlds. Of how it had felt to stand upon the podium alongside Victor and Yurio, even the times that the jubilation of their camaraderie was coupled with a tinge of disappointment.
The scores, the triumphs, the losses… Yuuri shared it all, because it was better just to confess everything to Minako rather than have her draw it out of him. And though disappointment had been a companion of sorts some of the time, he spoke with less regret and more fondness for the past year. It had been incredible. Wondrous. Unprecedented. Yuuri had never even conceived the possibility of skating alongside so many of those he now considered friends, and to have Victor beside him too…
"So, off-season now, then?" Minako asked, speaking into the momentary lull that followed Yuuri's words and hung drifted about the car.
Yuuri had turned his gaze out of the passenger window. His attention was caught upon the stretch of beach barely a hundred meters from the road, the spread of pale sand and the white-capped waves that flapped and clapped, the water sucked in with every influx of the tide before being released like an exhaled breath. He'd grown to love Saint Petersburg, and even more so because he had Victor and Yurio for company, but home…
Hasetsu would always be home. Yuuri had missed it. Not even when he closed his eyes, breathed in the sharp air of Russian winter, and listened to the caw of the gulls could he quite forget that, because that air was different. The gulls didn't sound the same. Yuuri knew he would return to Saint Petersburg, because Victor would be there, but for now…
"Yuuri?"
Minako's voice drew his attention back from where it had caught. He glanced towards her. "Sorry?"
Minako shrugged the apology aside. "Just wondering what you were going to do with your down time. Any more travelling, maybe?"
"I think I'm just about all travelled out for a while," Yuuri said, smiling.
"It was only three weeks," Minako said.
"Three weeks and ten countries. It was far too many to actually see them properly."
"You should have invited me along. I've wanted to visit Europe again for so long. I wouldn't even have cared that I was crashing your little pretend honeymoon or whatever it was."
"Don't worry," Yuuri said with a little laugh. "Yurio already beat you to it, even if it wasn't his choice to."
Minako hummed as if the thought personally offended her.
Between the end of the World Championships and the beginning of the Opens, the lull in competitions allowed for a brief respite. Many skaters didn't take that respite. Many continued to train with almost the same intensity that drove them in peak season, and, once upon a time, Yuuri might have trained right alongside them.
But that year had been different. Barely a month ago, at the culmination of worlds and the climax of months of hard work, he and Victor had decided: a break was long overdue. They didn't say their choice was influenced by Yurio's sudden need, but…
No one had quite anticipated Yurio would hurt himself at Worlds. He'd pulled through to the finals and even placed, but Yakov had put his foot firmly down with the ultimatum that he would either confine Yurio to his bed even after the two weeks of his post-surgery bed rest had passed, or he could undertake a month practically banned from the ice pursuing his own endeavours.
"Knee injuries shouldn't just be overlooked, and especially not when you have to get an operation to fix it." Yakov had glared at Yurio as though he'd expected such sensible reasoning to be refuted.
Yurio was a spitting cat much of the time, and his natural tenacity and tendency towards aggression hadn't faded as he'd grown into proper, blossoming pubescence. Yuuri was used to his anger, his snide remarks, and his snarky replies. What he hadn't expected was the absolute devastation that had eclipsed Yurio's face and sagged his shoulders until they physically weighted.
Yuuri had seen it, and he knew Victor had, too. Rescuing Yurio from his descent into devastated melancholy was a commitment they silently agreed upon. Regardless of their competitiveness, how fiercely they fought, or how much Yurio would still take any opportunity to criticise Yuuri that he could, Yuuri wanted to help him. Months of company and something distinctly like friendship had paved the way for such a resolution.
"We should do something," Yuuri said to Victor as they stood in the stands, watching Yurio's hunched form more than they did the ice and its wealth of flourishing and posturing figure skaters.
"I agree," Victor replied immediately. He tapping at his chin thoughtfully. "A distraction?"
"I was thinking something like that," Yuuri said, nodding shortly. "Did you have anything in mind?"
"Maybe a holiday?"
"Would he even be up for that?"
"He would if we didn't give him a choice."
Yuuri had almost protested to forcibly dragging Yurio away to 'enjoy himself'. Almost, but not quite, because necessity dictated drastic measures must be taken. And Yurio needed it. He needed them, even if he didn't realise it just yet.
He'd kicked and fought every step of the way, of course, from the brace strapped to his knee and that first trip to the airport. But after a time – somewhere between Paris and their tour of the summer-drenched Swiss Alps – Yuuri thought Yurio's protests had been more lip service than anything profoundly objectionable. He even admitted awe at the sight of the Colosseum in Rome before he recalled himself and retreat into his frowning sulk.
It had been a whirlwind of an adventure, and Yuuri had been so run off his feet that he almost hadn't the time to miss the ice. Between sightseeing, shared drinks, hand-holding wanders with the only person he really wanted to hold hands with, and a haphazard handful of hour slept curled on an uncomfortable bus seat as they travelled between cities, longing had barely been had the chance to take root.
Three weeks, it had been. Three weeks before the stretch of holidays between competition seasons. Yuuri had enjoyed it, had loved and exhausted himself in every minute of it, but he was itching to climb back onto the ice. Slowly, maybe, but definitely.
"I got some of the pictures you and Victor posted – though Yurio's are usually more frequent – but you barely actually called while you were away." Minako shot Yuuri a sidelong glance, pursing her lips. "So spill."
"There's not really all that much to say that you can't pick up from the pictures, Yuuri said.
"Liar. You're hiding something."
"Iie, I'm not." Except for things that aren't really any of your business, Yuuri didn't say. Minako seemed to forget sometimes that, just because he and Victor both had internationally recognised names, it didn't mean that their entire relationship and every quiet, dark and cosy corner of it had to be placed on stark display.
Minako hummed flatly, eyes narrowing. "Keep some of your secrets then, but I see straight through you for others." She suddenly jabbed a hand out and poked the side of his belly. "Partaking of the exotic cuisines, I notice."
Yuuri winced slightly, though the comment wasn't unexpected. "It's off-season."
"I know," Minako said.
"And it was a holiday."
"Hey, I'm not judging, just pointing out an observation. You don't need to get all defensive. Honestly, I half expected all three of you to return as chubby as you were two years ago."
Yuuri winced again. He didn't like to recall his rapid slide into depression that had followed the disaster of the Grand Prix two championships ago. It wasn't so much because Minako was right, and the thought always had him feeling more than a little self-conscious, but because it was a time before and removed from the life he had now. There had been no Victor, which was inconceivably heartbreaking. But on top of that, there had been no Yurio or his competitiveness that had helped to rekindle Yuuri's own. No plans or goals in sight, no knowledge of how to draw himself out of his slump. Yuuri hadn't even considered developing a program, let alone returning to Celestino like a dejected puppy slinking back to its scolding master.
This time was different, though. Yuuri was happy, and a hint of holiday weight gain wasn't of any real concern. Or not much, anyway, when Yuuri didn't let himself consider it. Besides, he had time to work himself back up into shape. Championships were still months away.
"I'm pretty sure Victor could eat his way through most of Europe and still be exactly the same as he always is," Yuuri said, brushing aside Minako's words with a nonchalance that he almost felt.
"Probably," Minako agreed. "Where is he, by the way? I know you said on the phone that he wasn't coming with you straight away, but…"
"He had to return to Saint Petersburg for a couple of weeks," Yuuri said, turning his gaze back out the window as they arced over a bridge. "Yakov reminded him that it was Yurio who was the injured one, not him, so he should pull his weight as a veteran skater and help out some of the younger kids."
"Exhibitions?" Minako asked.
"Probably," Yuuri murmured. Then he fell silent. It was silly of him, maybe, to be pining for Victor when he'd seen him only days before, but after waking up alongside him, spending almost every day with him, and simply being with him for so long, that span suddenly yawned behind him. It left a hollow space in his chest.
"I can't wait till he gets here," he found himself saying, only to yelp a moment later as Minako jabbed him once more. "What was that for?"
"You're super in love, aren't you?" she said, eyeballing him with concerning attentiveness given the speed at which she wove through the traffic.
Yuuri frowned, even as he felt his cheeks warm slightly. "Yes. So what?"
"Nothing, nothing." Minako was smiling as she blessedly turned her gaze forward once more. She shrugged off the subject a moment later, however. "Yuuri, do you mind if we stop by the bar on the way over? Just for a little bit. I have to make sure the kid I've got on hasn't burnt the place down."
"Are they a new employee?" Yuuri asked, propping his elbow on the edge of the door and leaning his cheek into his hand. "What happened to Nakamura-chan?"
Minako wrinkled her nose. "She moved to the city. Really, how could she leave me like this? I have enough trouble juggling the studio single-handedly without her leaving me alone with the bar."
"Maybe you should hire more dance teachers?"
"Never!"
Yuuri smiled, turning his gaze once more out the window. Of course he didn't mind, and not only because he was more than happy to accompany Minako anywhere after she'd done him the favour of picking him up. The drive allowed just a little more time to drink in the sedate, homely pace of Hasetsu as it trickled past.
Minako was out of the car almost before she'd thrown it into park when they drew to a stop outside of Kachu Snack Bar. Yuuri followed more slowly, peering up at the little building he hadn't seen in months where it was set between equally small, sedate stores along what could almost be called the main street of Hasetsu. It wasn't a large structure, and mid-afternoon on a weekday wasn't the busiest of hours for sales, but even as he watched, a man ducked inside on Minako's tail, a woman departing a moment later.
Minako was nowhere in sight when Yuuri followed, pausing just inside the doorway. The spread of minimal seats, the empty bar, the smell of a heated lunch and something distinctly tangy – it was all achingly familiar, and Yuuri almost couldn't help but trail his fingers along the panelling on the wall as he drifted towards the bar. A handful of customers sat in comfortable silence, or murmuring to their companions, and barely a one spared Yuuri a glance.
Or at least none but one in particular.
"'Ey, Yuuri-kun? Is that you? I didn't expect to see you!"
Yuuri glanced over his shoulder at his name and immediately offered a smile to Mr Hamada where he sat a table from the bar. The middle-aged man, a neighbour of Yuuri's parents' onsen, was familiar himself, though more for his frequent visitation to Minako's. Yuuri should have almost expected his presence.
"Hamada-san," Yuuri said, skirting the tables towards him. He tipped his head slightly in greeting. "How are you?"
"Good, good!" Mr Hamada said, smiling wide enough that happy wrinkles appeared around his lips. He flapped the magazine in his hand towards Yuuri in a kind of wave. "I didn't expect to see you around. Last I heard you were across the other side of the world."
"Maybe not quite so far as that," Yuuri said with a polite little laugh. "But of a sort. I'm back for a little while, though. I guess I've just been a little homesick?"
"You're not returning for good, then?"
Yuuri opened his mouth to reply but was silenced as Minako's voice rung briefly and loudly from the bar's back room. He and Hamada both – and a handful of other customers – glanced towards the half-closed door as what could have been chastisement as much as joking good-humour dampened into a murmur once more. After a moment, Yuuri turned back to Mr Hamada. "Sorry?"
Mr Hamada waved the magazine once more. "From what I read, I couldn't help but think you might have said something."
For a moment, Yuuri couldn't comprehend what Mr Hamada was talking about. Then his gaze dropped to the magazine itself and he recognised it for what it was.
Ice-skating wasn't a widely acclaimed sport in a lot of cities, but in Hasetsu, it had almost become so. The Nishigori ice castle had become a cultural hotspot, and reportedly even more so after the events of years before. Three internationally ranked skaters in the one place was apparently cause enough to strike near-obsession into the hearts of many of Hasetsu's residents.
Or so Yuuko had told him. Yuuri hadn't quite seen evidence of it himself.
Just as he hadn't really seen evidence of what Yuuko had similarly deemed his 'fans'. Yuuri would avoid public appearances outside of competitions whenever he could, and Minako chided him that such avoidance was likely why he saw so little of those fans. But people like Mr Hamada, like the visitors to the Katsuki onsen and the occasional passer-by in the street – they recognised Yuuri and complimented his efforts. Yuuri didn't think himself so much cheered by fans as he was overwhelmingly supported by many of his neighbours.
It put a lot of pressure on him – or it had when he'd lived in Hasetsu. Yuuri still couldn't decide it that pressure had been a good thing or not. He supposed it had helped to push him to where he was now, hadn't it?
Minako's bar routinely cycled through sports magazines and newspaper articles with an exaggerated focus on figure skating. It seemed almost more of an interest to her than dancing was, sometimes; she'd thoroughly climbed aboard the skating-train in the past years, and her company at Yuuri's competitions stood testament to that. But even so, the presence of such magazines wouldn't be half as relevant if those in the bar didn't pick them up and understand just what the content spoke of.
Mr Hamada wasn't an avid attendant of the sport, Yuuri knew, but he apparently kept up with the news. More, even, than Yuuri had in his brief holidaying absence. At Mr Hamada's words, Yuuri frowned and accepted the offered magazine. "Sorry, I don't know what you're talking about."
"No need to apologise, Yuuri-kun," Mr Hamada said brightly, folding his hands on the edge of his half-finished plate. "I'm only a curious man. You'd be the first to tell us if you were thinking of retirement, wouldn't you? Better than hearing about it in the papers."
Yuuri glanced up from the glossy cover of the magazine and met Mr Hamada's gaze. Retiring? Since when? He hadn't said anything about retiring, and despite the urge to do so years before, he was more than content where he was at the present. Yuuri might not be consistently at the very top of the international ladder, but the rivalry he shared with his fellow skaters – with Victor specifically, and Yurio, and Phichit – was more than incentive to keep trying. To keep skating, and pushing himself, and…
"I'm sorry, Hamada-san, I'm not quite sure what you're talking about."
Mr Hamada's smile faded slightly into a wrinkled frown. "No need to apologise," he said. "I only thought… On page ten, there's an article, you know. I thought it seemed… you really didn't say anything?"
Frowning himself, Yuuri dropped his gaze back down to the magazine. International Figure Skating was a primary resource found in Minako's bar, so he wasn't surprised to see it. He hadn't picked up a copy in weeks, however. Sightseeing had largely overwhelmed the urge to do so.
Flicking through the pages with Mr Hamada watching in frowning attentiveness, Yuuri paused on the spread of a picture he hadn't seen before. A slight tightness clenched his gut, seeming to abruptly parch his throat; no matter how many times he saw a photograph of himself, he would never find it a comfortable experience. Especially not when the picture was of a moment he hadn't even realised he stood before the lens of a camera.
"When was this…?" Yuuri murmured, more to himself than to Mr Hamada. He trailed off as his gaze fell to the headline.
THE END OR A NEW BEGINNING?
Caught in the midst of holidaying, international figure skaters and acclaimed couple Victor Nikiforov and Yuuri Katsuki appear nothing if not revelling in their post-championship retreat. But is it more than simply a break? Is this the beginning of the end of the road for one particular skater?
Yuuri's gaze flickered to the image once more. Holidaying. They'd been holidaying, and after a moment of studying Victor where he'd been caught in the middle of an outburst of laughter, Yuuri recognised the streets of Florence. And Yuuri, at Victor's side…
Yuuri had truly never liked looking at pictures of himself. Never. He could be proud of his skating, his accomplishments, and even feel a further upwelling of pride when he read compliments of his performances and favourable critiques following a performance. But this? This was nothing short of horrible. The picture of himself… and the article that accompanied it. The speculations.
Minako's bar was a comfortable, homely abode, and as much for its familiarity as anything. The people, the smells, the shadowed warmth – Yuuri had many good memories of the bar and his friendship with Minako that had unfolded within it. But at that moment, any comfort faded before the words on the page before him.
…taking a break…
…appears distinctly removed…
… letting himself go?
Yuuri hated the picture. He hated it, even if he loved it because Victor was smiling, and laughing, and looked happy. He hated it because, to look at it… it might be true. Yuuri wasn't at his fittest at the present. Minako had teased him good-naturedly, but there had been truth to her words. In the picture, his hair and fringe overlong, the plain, square glasses that he always wore when off the ice, the casual simplicity of his clothes that weren't meant to be flattering…
Letting himself… go?
Yuuri hadn't looked at the papers or the magazines last time he'd withdrawn from the world in slinking regret for his failures. He hadn't been able to manage it because he'd known what would be said. That he'd reached his peak and it was time for him to quit while he was still even a little ahead. That he was making a scene, a disaster of himself. That accepting defeat was far better than having it thrust upon him.
But this was somehow different. Somehow worse, and not only because Yuuri did read it this time. It was worse because Yuuri wasn't stopping. He didn't want to, had no intention to, but the article, the speculation…
Letting… himself… go?
At nearly thirty years old, Nikiforov shows remarkable persistence in continuing with his own career, and as yet hasn't spoken to the effect of ceasing his participation in the upcoming championships. Can the same be said for Katsuki? With retirement still in the memories of fans from barely two years ago, and with recent sightings to the effect, it is possible that Katsuki –
The magazine was snatched from his hands. Yuuri was so lost in his stupefied thoughts, so distracted by the sickening twist in his belly and the echo of the journalist's words printed in precise lines, that it took him a moment to properly realise it had been taken from him. When he glanced up, it was to see Minako at his side, turned towards Mr Hamada with hands propped on hips and the magazine a scrunched tube in her fist.
"… did I say about this?" she was scolding him more presumptuously than anyone besides Minako would be able to get away with. "It's all drivel, and one person's opinions, and it's a stupid opinion." Then she was spinning her attention away from a stunned Mr Hamada and towards Yuuri. Her eyes narrowed, though even in his stupor, Yuuri realised it wasn't with any kind of anger towards him.
"I'll not hear of you taking this to heart, Yuuri," Minako all but snapped.
Yuuri blinked. He glanced vaguely over her shoulder to the door to the back room, to where a younger man had appeared and was already making about the bar in something of a hasty frenzy. The new worker? "Have you finished talking to him?" Yuuri asked, hearing his words like a hollow echo.
Minako stared at him. Her lips thinned and Yuuri heard the magazine squeak in protest as she squeezed it harder. "Yuuri. I know you. Don't think about this."
"He didn't make a mess of things, did he?" Yuuri said, unable to properly reply to her words and barely hearing his own words.
"Yuuri –"
"I'd say he's doing a pretty good job considering he's new and practically by himself. How long did you say you've had him for?"
Minako stared at him for a long moment more. Then, with a glance over her shoulder towards the boy and the bar, she grabbed Yuuri's wrist and was dragging him after her from the bar once more. The door hadn't even fully swung closed behind them before she was spinning once more and planting her hands on his shoulders.
"Enough of this," she said bluntly. "You are not going to listen to the ravings and speculations of a journalist who doesn't matter. Let them think what they'll think, and show them you can do better."
Yuuri glanced sidelong down to the magazine, still clutched in Minako's hand and now pinned against his shoulder. He shrugged beneath her fingers, swallowing the thickness welling in his throat. "It's okay," he said. "I don't really mind. They got it wrong, anyway."
Minako nodded firmly. "Too right they did."
"I'm not retiring."
"You'd better not be after last year's efforts." Minako's expression grew fierce. "These people seem to think that a good run should precede a disaster."
"A disaster?" Yuuri asked. Was that what they'd speculated in that article? That after his 'good run' last year he would flounder in the one to follow? Try as he might, Yuuri couldn't force the printed words from his mind.
Retirement…
Letting himself go…
Know when to quit…
Yuuri didn't want to believe it, and none of it truly mattered. Victor had taught him that, had shown him that. Victor had all but mastered being able to shrug off the comments of the press and the reporters hounding on his heels. A few years of extra practice in the limelight seemed to put him leaps and bounds ahead of Yuuri's capabilities to the effect.
Or maybe Yuuri was just incompetent. Maybe he just couldn't handle it. He'd never dealt well with pressure, and even if it was only one journalist's speculations… Surely they weren't the only one to be thinking so.
"I don't want to hear this has gotten to you, Yuuri," Minako said, her voice low and hard, dragging Yuuri's attention from the magazine back towards her. "All right?"
Yuuri smiled, and he hoped it looked more sincere than it felt. "Un."
"In fact, I don't think you should read any of these stupid magazines. I don't even know why I still buy them."
"If you say so."
"And if you do want to retire –" She cut herself off, and her brow crumpled. "I know you're not, but you'd tell me if you were, wouldn't you?"
It was a struggle not to flinch. Almost as much of a struggle not to slip from beneath Minako's hands and shrink away from her. She had confidence in him, Yuuri knew, and he wouldn't doubt her support for a second – but she wondered too? She wondered if he was taking a break, a holiday, more of the cessation variety than as a pause?
That fact hit Yuuri almost harder than the article did.
But he smothered the flinch, and he didn't take withdraw from Minako. Instead, Yuuri forced his smile wider and shrugged once more. "Of course I would. But it's not going to happen. Not yet, and hopefully not for a long time." Reaching a hand up, he clasped Minako's fingers beneath his own. "Don't worry so much. I'm not going to take just one person's words to heart. I promise."
For a beat, Minako continued to stare at him dubiously. Then her frown cracked and she smiled with something like triumph. "Too right you won't," she said. Taking a step backwards, she tugged Yuuri after her and towards her car once more. "Come on. Let's head home. I'm sure everyone's wondering where I've abducted you to."
Yuuri laughed alongside Minako as she returned to her vibrant chatter once more, but he didn't quite feel it. And when she scrunched the magazine into a ball and lobbed it into the back seat of her car before climbing into the front, it took an effort for Yuuri to shake himself from staring at the discarded bundle and follow her lead.
If he told himself that a passing word didn't hurt so much, then maybe he might just believe it.
The welcome home wasn't quite explosive, nor overly loud or extensive – but then, Yuuri hadn't expected it to be.
The Nishigori's were in attendance, and Yuuri couldn't help but exclaim over how big the girls had grown in his absence. The pictures Yuuko had sent him didn't do them justice.
Mari descended from upstairs where she still spent so much of her time, and he spared a moment or two in conversation with her, catching up in the minimal manner they always shared. Yuuri and Mari had never spoken much, but that didn't matter; it was comfortable to simply be at her side.
His father bubbled with greeting, and his mother clasped his hand and smiled fondly at him. Minako was a whirlwind of excitable activity, and it was she who cracked out the drinks at an earlier hour than Yuuri thought entirely seemly.
He didn't partake. Yuuri wasn't comfortable in the full throughs of alcohol after his last few disastrous experiences, had never held his liquor adeptly, but more than that…
"Will you be home for long?" his mother asked in her quiet voice when there was a brief moment of diverted attention. Axel, Lutz, and Loop were exclaiming in an overloud debate with Yuuko, of which Yuuri was fairly sure the girls were winning for their expert cohesive group skills, and most of the room was otherwise attending to the battle of wits.
Yuuri leant towards his mother to murmur into her ear rather than call attention to them with an audible reply. "I don't know. Probably just for the off-season, if that's okay."
His mother beamed. She was a small woman, plump, and Yuuri had always seen her as the epitome of maternity. He'd always felt himself ease in her company, and the knot that had taken up residence in his gut that afternoon seemed to unravel just a little for it.
"You can stay as long as you'd like," she said. She reached a hand towards him to pat his fingers once more. "We're so happy to have you home."
"Thank you," Yuuri murmured.
"We watched all of your competitions, you know?"
"You did?" Yuuri felt his cheeks warm with a mixture of embarrassment and delight. His parents still couldn't quite grasp the intricacies of figure skating, but that they took the time to watch meant more than he could ever say.
His mother nodded vigorously. "Of course! We're very proud of you. I've been waiting for you to come home to serve up a feast for us all in celebration. How does katsudon sound for tonight, hm?"
It sounded good. Of course it did, and Yuuri's mother certainly knew; it had always been his favourite. But for the first time, Yuuri didn't immediately leap upon the suggestion with open gratitude. He thought of Minako's teasing jab in the car, of the time he'd spent holidaying, of the words 'letting himself go' and 'retirement', and a scrunched magazine all but forgotten on the back seat of a car.
Yuuri swallowed that tightness that had wrapped around his throat once more. A touch of guilt niggled at him, but it wasn't quite enough to smother his words. "Ah… I'm actually thinking of starting my training again. Getting back on track, you know?"
Yuuri's mother blinked, her eyebrows rising in confused surprise. "Back on track? Already? Haven't the championships finished for the year?"
For a handful of months, they would indeed taper off to next to nothing – or at least those Yuuri would participate in. But he couldn't quite bring himself to consider delaying, not with the discomfort that seemed to weigh heavily upon him while simultaneously setting an itching jitteriness into his limbs.
He shook his head slightly. "It's never too early to start training again. I've got to start early if I hope to beat Victor and Yurio, don't I?"
Yuuri spoke as if in jest, and his mother's face softened as though she heard it as much. She chuckled quietly to the sound of Yuuko's rising voice and a retaliating protest of, "But you never let us stay up late and we still do!" from the triplets.
"I suppose no katsudon for a while, then?" his mother asked.
Guilt flared once more, because his mother's cooking was her gesture of love. Most of the time, Yuuri would cave before it. Most of the time – but not this time. "Don't let it stop you, please," he said fluttering a placating hand. "I'm sure everyone else would love some for the feast."
It seemed Yuuri's words eased whatever remaining discomfort his mother possessed. With a short nod, a bright smile, and another pat of his hand, she shifted her attention back to where Nishigori had scooped up two of his daughters under his arms while the third danced just out of reach. Yuuko was scolding them all, Minako was smirking into a bottle, Yuuri's father watched on with blissful contentedness, and Mari only shook her head with a roll of her eyes.
They were comfortable, all of them. Happy. Yuuri only wished he felt a little the same way.
A/N: Thank you for reading the first chapter! I hope you enjoyed it, and I've already got the second one lined up to post in (hopefully) a few days. If you did, or you have anything you'd like to say, please leave a review and let me know your thoughts. Thank you!
