AN:

I'm baaaaccckkk!

Disclaimer: I do not own Yuri! On Ice

This is my second attempt at writing a fanfiction, but this time I wrote everything ahead of time so I'll be posting regularly (surprising, I know). This is actually a post from Pinterest, but I'm too lazy to go find the source of this prompt… let me know if you really want to know, though. I'll totally go find it for you ANYTHING FOR MY READERS!

As far as trigger warnings and all that lovely stuff, I don't think there's anything in here that would upset anyone. As you can tell by the title, there's mention of a death, but it's an OC, so you won't miss him! Also crying. If you don't like crying, you may want to hit that back arrow, I'm just saying.

This story, as usual, was meant to be a oneshot. And, as usual, I wrote too much. I hope you enjoy my inability to control myself!

Ch1— The Peony PLunderer

Staaaaaarreee.

"Yuri?"

Sssstttaaarreee….

"Yuri."

Sssssttttaaaarrrreee….

"You're scaring the birds away." A soft, amused voice noticed.

"Someone keeps stealing from your garden." Yuri mumbled sleepily, his words coming out in a jumbled mush. He scrubbed a hand down his face, attempting to rejuvenate himself. It felt like he hadn't slept in years or eaten in months.

"Someone— what?" His mother asked, genuinely sounded confused. She bustled around to place her hand on Yuri's forehead, checking his temperature. Yuri batted her hand away, but his exhaustion made his movements slow and uncoordinated so all he did was lightly whack his mother's arm.

"Don't tell me you didn't notice, Mom." Yuri rolled his eyes, voice slightly clearer and louder due to an increase in level of sass. "Someone's been stealing your flowers." He clarified. Mrs. Katsuki blinked, surprised by her son's uncharacteristically observant behaviour.

"You didn't…?" Mrs. Katsuki pursed her lips, rephrasing her question. She poured Yuri a cup of tea and set it on the windowsill that he was leaning against. "Did you stay up all night?" she asked carefully, smoothing the creases in her bright blue, flower-spotted apron. Yuri nodded, draining the whole cup in one gulp, unaware that his mother began fussing around him, smoothing his hair and refilling his tea. She noticed how weary her youngest was. The poor thing had more bags than a Walmart under his eyes.

"Wanted to know… who was stealing your flowers…" Yuri slurred, leaning heavily against one arm as his droopy eyes started sliding shut. Mrs. Katsuki shook her head, tutting quietly as she patted her only son's head. She moved the teacup safely away from his elbow and headed downstairs, untying her apron as she went. When she reached the first floor, she popped into the kitchen and hung the apron on a peg by the kitchen door. She scooped up her coat and purse, and slipped off to work, cringing as the blasted screen door slapped shut behind her.

Yuri jerked awake with a sharp yelp. He was slumped in a chair, leaning across the window sill in the kitchen that overlooked a garden of colourful flowers. He grinned at the beautiful sight the garden made. It was his mother's garden, her pride and joy. She spent hours a day slaving away in it, digging and planting, weeding and watering. She would always come inside sweaty and covered in dirt— but bearing the biggest, widest grin in the world. Yuri wanted to protect that. He wanted to protect that unashamed, unhidden, unapologetic joy. His mother wore her heart on her sleeve and ever since her father died last month, she had been stressed and drained. She mourned for a very long time and had stopped doing anything just for fun. She abandoned her knitting, and baking, she stopped taking walks and chatting with friends and neighbors— she just… stopped.

Mr. Katsuki was very concerned and educated himself on several mood disorders and mental illnesses, like depression and bipolar disorder. For so long, he had considered his wife's sadness, disinterest and exhaustion to be normal effects of mourning the loss of a loved one, but the duration of her mourning became a little worrying.

Wanting to get his wife a professional diagnosis (if she had one) and help with her mourning, he took her to a doctor's office where they met a therapist, a psychologist and a doctor. These people preformed several examinations and tests on Mrs. Katsuki came to the same conclusion.

Yuri's mother had depression.

The woman who was always so happy and care-free had a mental disease, some kind of disorder that caused its victims to lose interest in things— even people— they loved. It caused them to feel lost and angry, but sad and empty at the same time. It made people feel lonely in crowded places and overwhelmed when they were physically alone.

Mrs. Katsuki was put on a treatment plan, which helped a bit. She didn't complain about sadness anymore, and she didn't burst into tears at random points in the day, but she was still listless and sluggish— even more so right after she took her medication. The psychologist had suggested getting her into a hobby. The doctor suggested a new medication. The therapist suggested talking about feelings.

One day, Yuri's father had come home from grocery shopping, and had with him a sad looking little rose bush. He said he found it sitting next to a big dumpster by the florist shop on his way home and that he felt he couldn't leave it to die. He took pity on it, and he… stole it? Is it stealing if it was already trash to begin with?

Nevertheless, Mrs. Katsuki took an immediate liking to the sweet little plant and began researching almost obsessively for every scrap of information she could find about roses, and gardening. She went to the library for books, she asked her friends for advice, she borrowed tools from the neighbors. She became active and interested and began to open up bit by bit.

Yuri was elated to see his mother excited about something again. As a child, he had always taken pride on how cheerful, and optimistic his mother was. She had the prettiest smile and the warmest laugh, and Yuri loved her for it. But when that warm, cheery woman began to fade away, Yuri felt lost. He always looked to his mother for guidance and hope. He always looked to his mother for a reason to be happy in a world full of sorrow. And now his source of this guidance and hope and joy was in need of her own help.

And it came in the form of a rather ugly and pitiful bush.

And Yuri was elated.

Of course, he was a bit upset that he couldn't help his mother. He was his mother's "little boy," her "precious child," as she said, so if anyone could make her feel better, it should've been Yuri. He felt useless and weak, unable to help the woman who sacrificed so much for him, who worked her fingers to the bone for him, who gave him everything. But he was glad that something could grant her happiness.

And then Yuri witnessed his mother's healing. It was like watching a flower bloom. Mrs. Katsuki gained back her lost friendships, she took interest in new hobbies, and she was able to smile and look forward to the next day. Her visions of planting and tending grew and exploded from a tiny, ugly bush to a beautiful, lush garden. Yuri watched as her pain and sorrow unfolded into something beautiful and hopeful and it was truly amazing. He now had another thing to take pride in, other than his mother's newfound joy and smile— he now could say that his mother had the prettiest, biggest, most bountiful garden in the entire city.

And now, all of the sudden, flowers were going missing. The perpetrator had a respect for symmetry. He or she took flowers in a way that it wouldn't disturb too horribly the patterns that Yuri's mother had carefully planned out with her blooms and bushes. This made it less noticeable that plants were going missing, so it was hard to say whether the criminal just felt bad and wanted to keep the garden looking nice, or if her or she just didn't want to get caught. Either way, Yuri eventually took notice.

He wasn't sure when in the flower-stealing-saga he discovered that the flowers were going missing. For all he knew, the thief could've been at it for weeks! The only reason he actually noticed in the first place was because of what flowers had gone missing that day.

Rose heads from the special anti-depression, soul-finding rose bush were snipped. It wasn't enough to harm the bush or make it look obvious, but Yuri still noticed and decided to spend the whole night awake to try and catch the jerk who was stealing his mother's flowers.

And that brings us to today: the day after the all-nighter.

Yuri blinked, wriggling his nose and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. The window was open, letting the fresh spring air waft in with the songs of birds and whispers of trees. The sun shone down warmly, and butterflies and bumblebees whizzed around from flower to flower. Yuri felt drained. He really can't handle all-nighters.

Once upon a time, Yuri had formed a study group with a couple of friends that had higher marks than himself in the hopes of discovering their secret, or cult practices, or witching brews. Whatever it was that made them get such high scores on every test— he wanted in. These were the kids that moaned when they got 94's instead of "at least a 98." These were the kids who competed with their grades down to the sixth decimal "I have a 98.134762— that's .000001 above you— ha!" These were the kids who felt that their grades defined them "I got a 91, I'm so stupid. I'm never going anywhere in life; my parents are going to disown me."

And Yuri was average. Yuri was "Oh wow, I actually passed that— look at this, it's a 68! That's passing!" Yuri was "Wait there's a test?" Yuri was "What class is this again?" Yuri was a little below average, actually.

Wanting to change this fact, Yuri began to investigate the "smart kids" and their habits. And he found out that his friends' secret to success was intimidating— and "witching brew" was the best description for what it was. These kids drank at least 30 ounces of black coffee (adding 5 ounces for every point they wanted to receive higher than their last grade. If they wanted to make 5 points better, they would add 25 ounces) mixed with two American Redbull energy drinks. They then proceeded to spend the entire night wide awake, frantically studying and reading and researching like all that mattered was Advanced Physics or AP British Literature or Accelerated Calculus.

This method worked well for these students, though it was somewhat terrifying to watch. Hyped up on sugar and caffeine, these teens were frantic and obsessive in their efforts with their studies. They babbled manically to themselves, their movements were jerky and their facial muscles spasmed and twitched like they were being electrocuted. Yet, somehow, they made it to school on time the next day without looking like personifications of death.

Yuri did not have the stamina for this. And so, Yuri continued to gladly accept his "(below) average's" while his friends pocketed their "advanced" marks and developed raging cases of insomnia. They may be doctors and lawyers now, but at least Yuri had his sanity.

Something snapped Yuri's wandering, sleep-dazed mind back to the present. Curious as to what had jerked him from his reverie, he soaked in the sounds of his home— the birds singing and chirping outside, the chimes on porches tinkling in the breeze, the soft chatter from people strolling on the sidewalks… Yuri cocked his head, as he suddenly heard something different. It was a strange grunting noise. It sounded like someone was lifting or dragging something much heavier than they could bear and was voicing their strain.

That was odd. Both of Yuri's parents were working in the hot springs, which their home was attached to the back of. Maybe his mother finally decided to get some help with the landscaping. Though it was considered to be "her" garden, it was on the property of the hot springs. Because of this, Yuri thought there should be some type of professional help to take a bit of the burden off his mother's shoulders. Running your own business was hard enough without the dedication and long, tiresome work that comes with taking care of the whole plot of land the business sat on.

That being said, Yuri's mother always wanted her bushes and flowers and trees and fountains and walk ways to be just right, so she usually depended on herself to do all the landscaping. Every now and again she would employ Yuri to weed or mow, but she did all the creative and fun work. She planned her gardening design and planted flowers, while Yuri pushed a ten-ton brick of plastic up and down a hill steeper than a cliff, and around the tight corners of the building. Yuri was all for hiring someone else to push a ten-ton brick of plastic around the yard.

Leaning carefully out the window, Yuri studied the ground below him and searched for the source of the sound. His eyes landed on a head of silvery hair that was just under his window. The hair belonged to a man whose back was facing Yuri. Yuri blushed when he was granted the view of attractively stretching and bulging muscles.

Yuri felt only moderately creepy and stalkerish as he watched the man at work. He cocked his head curiously, unable to tell what the man was doing. The man had his back to Yuri and (from what Yuri could tell) was squatting amidst a cluster of blooming pink peonies that bobbed gracefully in the breeze as their ruffled petals fluttered. They were mesmerizing and beautiful, almost managing to distract Yuri from the fact the man was holding one of those beautiful things high in the air as if he were inspecting it. Yuri felt his heart stutter to a halt and his face blossom with heat from sudden rage. This man. Was stealing. His mother's peonies.

Wait!

Yuri suddenly felt a maniacal grin spread across his face.

This man was stealing his mother's peonies! Yuri finally caught the bandit red handed! Yuri did a little happy dance, congratulating himself on his spy skills. He was so observant and patient, waiting in the window for the thief to show like a hawk to strike on its prey—

Wait!

This man is stealing is mother's flowers! As in it was presently occurring! Yuri snapped into action. He leaned on his stomach on the windowsill, his upper torso fully suspended in the air outside the second story window. Yuri carefully gripped the side of the window with one hand (safety first, kids) and used the other to frantically wave at the flower-stealer.

"Hey! Hey, you!" Yuri's customary shyness with strangers had been thrown to the wind (as were caution, common sense, safety….). The man jerked around in a rather graceful crouching pivot.

"Wha— oh—" and then the man said a word that Yuri was 99% sure wasn't Japanese. He couldn't be sure. He never made good marks in Japanese class.

"Stop right there, thief!" Yuri shouted triumphantly. "I caught you in the act, there's no way you're getting out of this now!"

"I… I was stealing flowers…" What kind of accent did this guy have? If his hair was natural in colour, and his accent wasn't for show— maybe he was a foreigner. Maybe where he came from it was customary for one to steal another's flowers. Yuri shook his head.

That's ridiculous— focus!

"So, you admit that you were stealing, which is, in fact, against the law and punishable by—"

"I was stealing flowers, not Rolexes." Yuri made a face.

"Just because they aren't made of gold and diamonds doesn't mean they're worth any less to someone else." The foreigner looked taken aback but recovered quickly.

"That's great, but I have somewhere to be. Mind wrapping this up?" the foreigner flashed an almost predatorial smile at Yuri, who felt a shiver race down his spine. Yuri narrowed his eyes, irritated by his own reaction to this… peony plunderer.

"Hey, don't you walk away from me!" Yuri shouted, leaning further out the window. The thief was standing up and brushing dirt off his pants, looking as if he was going to make a break for it. Yuri didn't have time to go down the stairs, he'd have to walk to the other end of the house to get to the stairs, then he'd have to go down them without falling for once, and then he'd have to manage to run around the entire hot springs to the side of the building where the gardens started. The villain would be long gone by then. Yuri pushed himself farther out of the window.

"Don't you dare run!" He repeated. He was kneeling on the window sill now, balancing quite precariously as he tried to get the foreigner to stop trying to run away. The foreigner saw Yuri on the windowsill and started to panic, which Yuri found entertaining.

"Oh, my— you asdkjhieu!#$%, what are you doing!?" The man demanded, again using a few words Yuri didn't know. Judging by the context it was used in and the force that was put behind it, Yuri questioned the politeness of the word.

"I'm— I'm stopping… you." Yuri gulped, realizing how high up he was. Geez, what a way to discover your fear of heights.

"Get down from there!" the man demanded, hands on his hips in a sassy and oddly attractive pose. The man's voice sounded almost desperate. He must be worried that, if Yuri fell and died, he'd probably have a homicide trial on his hands (along with the trial for being a dirty flower thief).

"No! I have to make sure you don't steal anymore of my mom's flowers!" Yuri protested fiercely.

"Don't you have stairs, or does everyone in Japan make conversation in through the top floor windows?"

"You make it sound like you know someone else in Japan who converses through top floor windows."

"That's what was implied, wasn't it?" the man mocked. Yuri made a face at him, belatedly realizing the guy was probably too far away to see Yuri's face and therefore would think that Yuri was not responding due to the fact that he didn't know how to verbally fight people. It was true, but Yuri didn't want this man to know that.

"Go down the stairs, I'll wait for you." the man ordered. Yuri couldn't help but blush at that last sentiment. Yuri cursed himself and his romantic heart to eternal damnation.

"How do I know you mean that?" Yuri asked suspiciously, heart racing at the double meaning behind his words. The man shrugged.

"I guess you'll just have to trust me."

"Trust a thief who stole from my mother's special rose bush?" Yuri snarked back. The man's posture went from straight and confident to hunched and tired looking. Guilt.

"Special…?"

"Yeah, her special rose bush. Dad bought it for her to help her get a hobby to distract her from her dad's death. It was a gnarly looking thing to start with, but she has a green thumb. It inspired her to make all this." Yuri gestured at the beautiful, colourful garden. The guy hunched in even more.

"Her dad's death?" the criminal asked meekly, looking like a kid caught with his hand in a cookie jar.

"Yeah, she had a bit of a nasty bout with depression… you know how it goes." Yuri said, not knowing if this guy really knew how it went, but also not wanting to explain how he saw his mother die a little each day until a freaking flower brought her back to life. He lost to a flower.

Yuri remembered waking up early to make breakfast in bed for his mother because he knew it was difficult to get up sometimes (all the time). He remembered doing chores and little tasks around the house like laundry, because his mother just didn't seem to have the energy or interest to do anything anymore. He kept her up to date with what was going on with her friends, and yet it was a flower that ultimately brought her joy. Yikes.

"Ah…. Arg, geez…" the man ran a hand through his hair agitatedly. He seemed to be looking everywhere but at Yuri.

"Up here, loser!" Yuri called out, feeling suddenly irritated. This jerk felt so guilty he couldn't look Yuri in the eye. That was his problem, not Yuri's and Yuri demanded to be seen. "And stop stealing my mom's flowers!" He added for good measure.

"It's not like— ugh, it's not like I want to steal your mom's depression flowers!"

"Then don't do it! It's pretty simple!" Yuri snapped.

"I have to— come on, I just…. I know how it looks, but—"

"It looks like you're stealing a depressed woman's flowers, which, by the way, is like stealing candy from a kid with cancer." Yuri felt is blood broiling as he shook a finger down at the man. He leaned over, so his voice carried clearly.

"I mean where's your sympathy? Where's your empathy? Where's your human decen— woah-my God!" Yuri shouted, his stomach rising, his heart pounding as he felt his balance slipping. He heard the man yelling at him as he wobbled on the ledge precariously, arms pinwheeling to find some balance to counter his slipping knee.

"Not helpi— crap!"

And Yuri— ever graceful, well-balanced and cautious Yuri— fell out of his own kitchen window.

AN:

Ooc anyone? Don't worry, it only gets worse from here! I swear, it's impossible for me to stick with the published characterization, I have to go off and do my own thing with everybody. Sorry.

Also, me making people fall from really high places at random? Yep. It's my thing. Don't judge.