A word before we start. This is a rewriting of Yuri On Ice, but genderbent and as a ballet AU. Don't expect an original story, and don't bother to comment on the fact that I'm just taking the original storyline. That's the plan.
Disclaimer: I don't own Yuri On Ice, and have no rights whatsoever on the story and its characters.
I hope you enjoy!
Episode One, Part One : Easy as Pirozhki ! The Grand Prix of Tears
The three medalists join the jury on stage, still in their wonderful representation tutus. But it's Viktoria Nikiforov, 27 years old, who steals the spotlight in her light pink tutu, with her silver hair perfectly sleeked back as if she hadn't given a breathtaking performance the same afternoon . She accepts her gold medal, just another token of appreciation of her talent and glory, and smiles for the cameras.
While she's just radiating with happiness, I stand in the shadows of the toilets' corridor, scrolling through the news on my phone. I don't like what I see, but I can't seem to stop reading more no matter how Celeste, my ballet mistress, tells me to quit pouting.
"Katsuki at an all time low, will this season be her last in competition? Possibly." I sigh, and look at my mistress who is frowning at me.
Before we go any further, I believe a little presentation is required. My name is Yuura Katsuki! At 23, I'm one of the dime-a-dozen dancers recognized on the international scene. I have high hopes, but I finished last at my first Grand Prix final; I still can't accept what happened! I left home to join a great company in Detroit and worked hard to make it to the final. But the pressure had me binge eating before the event, then the family dog died… Mentally and physically, I was at my worst! So my big day became a big failure… Man… talk about self-sabotage.
Celeste wants me to cheer up, but I can't seem to achieve that so I just flee to the toilets to have some space. Once locked inside the red cubicle, I call mom. She'll know how to make me smile. I think.
"Hey mom… sorry, were you sleeping?
"Yuura-chan! No, Miko was here tonight and he drank like his usual self. He's keeping us awake so we can watch the final!"
"Oh, were you watching the livestream?"
"Of course, we had a special viewing for you!"
"A public viewing?! Are you kidding me mom, I'm gonna die!" I chuckle nervously, but hot tears start rolling on my cheeks.
"I'm sorry mom. I messed up." She's calling my name, but I can't speak to her. I just need to cry. Not only have I embarrassed myself in front of everyone and brought shame on Celeste's institution, my whole hometown had witnessed it all. The tears can't seem to stop now.
Suddenly a loud bang shakes my cubicle, and I quickly wipe my tears to open the door.
"Sorry, I-" You'll imagine my surprise as I find this year's Youth America Grand Prix gold medalist, Yura Plisetsky, standing there with dark eyes. The Russian Princess… looking at me like I'm a piece of trash. What the hell?
She points an accusing finger at me. "Hey." She says, her voice expressing clear disgust. "I'm competing in the senior division next year. We don't need two Yuras in the same bracket. Incompetents like you should just retire already. Moron!" She screams into my face, making me wince. She then turns away and struts out of the bathroom. I just stand back and watch her leave, flabbergasted. After all, she's kinda right. Incompetents like me don't deserve spots in such high ranks, and I'm only blocking the way to other girls. Even if I left the competition world, there'd be tons of talented young ballerinas rising through the ranks, prompt to replace me. Would it make any difference to anyone if I left?
Later in the evening, Celeste and I join the airport to take a plane back to Detroit, and I follow her steps half-mindedly.
"Katsuki!" I hear behind me. I turn around to see the commentator of the events, Newscaster Morooka. She was an amazing dancer back in her time, and started commenting dance events after she had retired. Maybe I should just do that. I greet her, but she just frowns.
"Don't give up yet, kid!" she scolds me. "You're too young to retire!"
I lower my gaze. "It's not like I've made a decision," I mumble. "Please don't make assumptions."
"What will you do after you graduate from college? Will you still train in Detroit?"
I appreciate that she's concerned with my career, but I'm not in the mood to talk about it right now. I just look around. "I still need to discuss this with coach Celeste."
"Listen to me. You got some real thinking to do." I don't want to think right now. "Will you keep going?" Outside a woman is holding a poodle pup, and my mind drifts back home, to my dog. My sweet Vicchan, who had passed away before I could even hold him one last time. I'm sorry Vicchan. "Maybe just part-time? You'll still have a chance back in Japan." Sorry I couldn't come home.
"Yura." I turn to the sweet voice that said my name. It's Viktoria Nikiforov, all changed from her stage costume into her National Team attire but her hair still in a bun. She's talking to the Russian Yura, who has her hood on and doesn't seem receptive to the conversation. "About your performance at the Youth America. The step sequence from the modern program could use more-"
"I won, so who cares?" moans the teenager. "Quit nagging, Viktoria."
"Yura! You can't talk that way forever!" scolds the Russian team coach, an old and bitter-looking woman. I just stare at them; they look so perfect, so unreachable. If I have the opportunity someday, I'd like to-
"A commemorative photo?" asks Viktoria, looking at me. "Sure thing." I snap out of my stare, and shy away from her eyes. I just turn around and leave; this is humiliating, and I've had my dose for today.
I was an idiot for thinking I could finally meet my idol and play on the same field as her.
March, a year later; Hasetsu station
I get off the train at the Hasetsu station, and remove my mask from my mouth. I sigh. It's been five years since my last visit to Hasetsu, and a lot seems to have changed; this old station even has elevator tracks now. As mine arrives at the lower platform, a vision of horror strikes me: it's a full portrait of me, in about twenty copies, plastered on all the walls! "We're rooting for you!" they claim, "Hasetsu native ballet dancer Katsuki Yuura".
Oh, my… but the shame is only beginning.
"Yuura!" chants a low voice behind me. No… "Why are you skulking around like that?"
"Miko!" I cry, turning to see my old ballet teacher. "What are you doing here?!"
"Welcome back after five long years!" he says, brandishing a "Welcome back" banner while in an attitude derrière. Of course, he always has to be extra. "Stand up straight, will you?"
"That's really not necessary..." Of course, Miko would know my exact arrival time. I should've guessed he would be there to pick me up.
"Hey, isn't that Yuura, the ballet dancer?" I turn to the sound of my name, and see some random people talking each other. "Sure looks like her to me. I haven't heard any news about her lately. What has she been up to?" Why do they all talk about me as if I wasn't there? It's so embarrassing!
"Remember she lost a big competition last year? Was it the Nationals?"another asks his friend.
I'm going to die of embarrassment. Actually scratch that, I'm already dead.
Anyway, hi everyone who cheered me on just because I'm from Hasetsu! I can't explain this to each of you, but I'll go ahead and explain it in my head, okay? The competitive ballet season generally starts in the fall, but I lost big time in the comprehensive Grand Prix finals early on….I couldn't shake off the failure, and lost again in the Nationals. I didn't make it to the Four Continents or the World Championships, so the season's over for me!
I managed to graduate from college, but I ended things with my coach, and my future is unclear. I decided to come back home in the meantime. That's about it.
"Let me shake your hand" proposes some guy, coming nearer as I pass the gate of the station. I take a step back, and stop him.
"Sorry, I'm in a hurry."
"It doesn't cost you anything to shake hands! Be polite!" roars Miko, pointing an accusing finger at my face. "Viktoria Nikiforov is always nice to her fans, and you will be too you understand me?!" There he goes, hitting me in my weak points. So I shake hands with anyone who asks, even those who don't know even me, thanking them for their support while Miko encourages me to smile.
When we're done, he literally drags me out, pulling on my arm. He wants me to greet everyone in town for my big return. I try to distract him by reminding him than he has a ballet school to run, but he says that anyways the school is almost always empty nowadays.
"Hasetsu's losing more and more people. Hardly any kids are dancing these days." He smiles. "Having you back should cheer things up around here, Yuura!"
That's enough. I yank my arm away, and he looks at me, stunned. "I'm sorry," I say, my head hanging low. "I'm tired right now..."
"Oh, really?" He's not buying my excuse. "But everyone's dying to see you."
But I don't want anyone to see me. After the disaster I've pulled last year, the last thing I want is to see all the people I have disappointed. I just want to go home.