Getting into Japan took a lot longer than it should have, and Victor could only blame himself for that. But in his defense, he wasn't used to having to be coy at immigration. All his life, immigration had been simple:
"Why are you here?"
"For the ice skating camp/competition/event!"
"Oh, are you an ice skater?"
"I am."
"Have you won any metals?"
"A few."
"Anything I might have heard of?"
And so on. Generally speaking, immigration officers who knew who Victor was were the exception, not the rule. Still, Victor had never realized how much simpler it made it to always have that competition behind him.
This time, at Fukuoka Airport, when an immigration officer asked, "Why are you here?" Victor's honest answer was met with incredulity.
"I'm here to coach a skater."
The officer stared at Victor.
"This is a tourist visa."
"Yes. You see, he didn't give me his contact information, so I didn't know how to get in touch with him for the visa sponsorship. I talked to the embassy, and they recommended I go in on a temporary visitor visa. Then, when I find him and start coaching him, we'll apply for a visa extension and change it over to a working visa."
The officer's eye was twitching. There was a long moment of silence. Victor smiled at the officer, but it didn't seem to help.
"I'll make Yuuri Katsuki the world champion," he ventured.
"Katsuki—that skater who just blew the Japanese Championships?" said the immigration officer incredulously.
Victor's eyes lit up: this man knew skating! "Yes! He has enormous potential. He could be the most amazing skater if he could just trust himself and skate."
"So…is this about that YouTube video?" the officer ventured.
"YouTube video?"
"The one where Katsuki was skating your routine."
"You know who I am?" Victor smiled. The officer glared, so he immediately addressed the question. "Not exactly. Well, yes. But Yuuri asked me to coach him."
"Katsuki Yuuri. Asked you. The most decorated skater in history. To coach him."
"He did," Victor beamed. "Aren't I lucky?"
"I'm not sure that's the word I'd use."
"You sound faint," Victor observed, not one to beat around the bush. "Are you all right?"
"Look," said the officer, rubbing a hand over his face. "I know who you are."
"Of course you do," said Victor. "You know figure skating."
"Yes, but I mean…" He sighed. "So, let me get this straight. You're here to be Katsuki's coach."
"Yes."
"Which Katsuki asked for."
"Yes."
"But when you applied for a visa, you didn't have his contact information."
"Yes."
"So where are you going now?"
"He told me to come to the onsen his family runs."
"You're telling me that in this day and age, you couldn't just get his number or email off of some skater registry?"
"Of course not. They take privacy issues very seriously. Most skaters communicate through social media, but well, Yuuri doesn't use them."
"So you're going to Katsuki's family home, just because he asked you to coach him once, without giving you any means to follow up on that."
"Not just because of that. He also skated my routine, you saw." Victor beamed at the officer.
"Look," said the officer again, "You're a tourist."
"What?"
"You're here with a temporary visitor visa. That means you're a tourist. You can't take any money or any job while you're on this visa. You can't come into Japan with a tourist visa and announce that you plan to work."
"Ok, then I won't take any money."
"You won't…!" the officer looked like he was about to have some sort of fit. "That's- even if I could believe you-"
"I wouldn't coach anyone for the money," said Victor emphatically. "Yuuri has amazing potential. Yuuri could be amazing, but he hasn't been able to reach that because he's caught up in his own head. I want to help him be what he could be."
"I…see." There was a pause. "The fact remains that you can't come into Japan on a tourist visa and announce that you plan to work."
Victor stared.
"Look," sighed the officer. "You're basically here to find Katsuki, right?"
Victor nodded.
"Right. So, you tell me you're a tourist. You're going to find Katsuki, work things out, and then immediately apply for a work visa with him as your reference."
"Okay?" said Victor. There was a beat.
"You have to tell me," prompted the officer.
"Oh! Right, I'm a tourist."
"Okay," said the officer, sounding more tired than he had any right to, considering that he was the one who had made this so complicated. "Put your index fingers on the tabs so I can fingerprint you."
After immigration was the issue of Makkachin's 12-hour quarantine, but Victor had known about this in advance. He'd booked a night at a hotel near the airport. He'd thought he might explore a little, but was far too tired and ended up simply checking in and collapsing onto the bed.
It wasn't the physical toll—Victor was no stranger to traveling—but the emotional one that was unexpected.
It was the anticipation of seeing Yuuri again. It was the uncertainty that came with that. It was even, to some small degree, the incredulity in the reactions of people like the immigration officer, who reacted like Victor was out of his mind when he explained himself.
Victor pulled out his phone, connected to the hotel wifi, and pulled up the video of Yuuri skating. It was reassurance like no other.
Come to me, Yuuri's skating said. I'm waiting for you.
Yes, thought Victor, and started it over from the beginning again, just because he could. He fell asleep before it finished.
When Victor woke up, it was 4am and he'd been sleeping for a solid 10 hours. He got up and left the room to check out and pick up Makkachin. Their requisite reunion took some time, as Victor let Makkachin out of his kennel and walked him around the curb outside the airport a little. During their wandering, Victor found a little corner of the airport with pamphlets about "Japanese etiquette for the foreigner." One of them was about hot springs, so he grabbed that one. Then he took one of each of the others, just in case.
It had snowed a little in the night, contrary to all the weather reports and norms of the region that Victor had looked up before arriving. But he didn't seem to be the only one caught off-guard by the snow. Apparently, all the trains had ground to a halt.
Victor tried to hide his grin as he realized that of course—this was southern Japan, so they must not be used to snow at all, much less in April. What was "a little snow" to Victor was a world-stopping weather event to the local population, apparently.
But he was so close—too close to stop now, when Yuuri was less than 50km away.
He took a cab. It would come out a tad pricey, sure, but it was better than waiting another day while the snow-stopped locals figured things out. The cab driver didn't speak any English, but Victor pulled up the name of the hot springs and he seemed to understand.
"Far," said the cab driver, making a gesture that Victor assumed was meant to mean that it would either take a long time, or cost a lot of money.
"It's okay," said Victor with a reassuring smile.
Makkachin wasn't thrilled to have to return to his kennel for the cab ride, but Victor cooed reassurances that he would soon be free to stay out. He read the hot spring etiquette pamphlet on the way, but mostly looked out the window. They were driving on a road along the sea, and the view was beautiful.
It was still just after 8 when he arrived at the hot spring in Hasetsu. Victor thanked the cab driver and tried to give him a big tip, but the cab driver didn't seem to understand. After 2 confused exchanges of the change back and forth, Victor realized that perhaps tipping wasn't the custom here and took his change back. The cab driver smiled and bowed and left.
Victor looked up at the building, swallowed, and pulled open the door—or tried to for a brief moment before he realized that it was a sliding door. How interesting. It didn't seem very secure, but then maybe it was the low crime rate? Or maybe it was just that a hot spring didn't really have any reason to be secure.
Victor swallowed thickly again and slid open the door.
A man's voice and a woman's voice yelled something at him, and Victor blinked. Neither of them was Yuuri.
"Welcome," said the man in English after a moment, still smiling. "You here for hot spring?"
"Yes!" smiled Victor. He hadn't bathed or changed since Russia, and he was starting to feel it. He could find Yuuri afterwards, when he was cleaner and warmer. "But my dog…?"
The couple beamed at him, and Victor was relieved to see that they wouldn't have a problem with Makkachin.
"You want him inside or outside?" asked the man.
"Either…" Victor almost said, but then the woman leaned down to pet Makkachin, and Makkachin leapt at her with such force that he nearly knocked her over. Victor winced. "Outside, I think." Until Makkachin had worked off his pent up energy, at least.
The information from the pamphlet was immediately put to use. Victor stripped and put his things into one of the lockers. He went over to the showers and washed his body and his hair thoroughly, and then looked around at the baths. There were a few inside—low, square baths along the walls—but that wasn't what Victor envisioned when he thought of Japanese hot springs. He'd always imagined—ah-ha!
He found the door that led outside. The air was perhaps a tad chilly on his heated skin, but he paid it no mind. He was Russian, and a figure skater to boot. He stepped into the rock-lined hot spring and sank down. It was as glorious as he had imagined.
But not nearly as glorious as a few minutes later, when a fully-clothed Yuuri came charging out to stare at him.
"V- Victor," gasped the voice he'd been waiting months to hear again, sounding beyond breathless, almost like he might faint. Victor looked up, and once again, felt his world click. All doubts melted away. "What are you doing here?"
Victor smiled to himself. Well, he wasn't going to let Yuuri barrel him over this time. Victor would give as good as he got.
"Yuuri!" he greeted, standing to face him. "I'll be your coach from today. And I'll make you win the Grand Prix Final."
Victor added a wink for good measure.
Yuuri let out a loud exclamation of utter, total shock.
Victor smiled to himself.
One for one, he tallied.
