The sun filtered through the blinds, the light stirring Viktor awake as it traveled slowly up his face. He blinked sleepily and shied away from the brightness, burying his face in Yuuri's soft hair. It smelled faintly of sweat, with a trace of tobacco, and Vitya sighed contentedly, enjoying the familiar, earthy scent.

"Mm, Vitya?" Yuuri murmured, turning back toward him slightly. Viktor pulled him in close, his chest pressed to Yuuri's warm back.

"Not awake yet," he said sleepily. Yuuri yawned and took Vitya's hand, gently intertwining their fingers together.

"What time is it?"

"Dunno."

"Hasn't Petya come by yet?"

Viktor made an indignant noise.

"Yuuri... I can't believe you're thinking of someone else while I'm right here," he complained, his tone petulant. Yuuri chuckled.

"Were you always the jealous type, Vitya?" he asked, turning to face him. His eyes were glinting playfully.

"Only when it comes to you, zolotse moyo." He leaned in to kiss him, his thumb brushing against Yuuri's cheek. Yuuri reached up, his fingers running through Viktor's hair gently. It was different from the caresses of the night before, sweet and relaxed, and as Viktor pressed his lips against the side of Yuuri's neck, he couldn't help it; he laughed.

"Huh? Why are you laughing?" Yuuri asked, looking up at Vitya as he pulled away, his cheeks flushed.

"No, well... sometimes you're just so cute and innocent," Viktor teased, grinning. "It's like you're a completely different person."

"I can't help being myself," Yuuri muttered.

"I know. It's just another thing that I love about you, Yuratchka."

"... You damn sweet talker." He wrapped his arms around Vitya's neck for another kiss.

The moment was ruined a second later.

"Boss! The Katsuki woman wants to see you!" Petya's voice called, followed by a series of sharp knocks.

"Ugh, seriously?!" Vitya groaned. "That idiot, no sense of timing, as usual..." He pulled away, disappointed.

"Thank you, Petya," Yuuri replied loudly as he sat up, ignoring Viktor's comment. Vitya could tell from the serious look on his pakhan's face that it was time to get to work.

They emerged about ten minutes later, fully dressed, to find Petya standing guard just outside the door.

"Morning, boss," Petya said cheerfully, hands in his pockets. Red haired and green eyed, Pyotr Nikitovich was one of Viktor's direct subordinates. He was short and stocky, with a horizontal scar over the bridge of his nose; according to his story, he'd gotten it in a knife fight during his youth. At 30, he was one of the older members in the inner circle, though his easygoing nature and freely given smiles endeared him to everyone, making him rather dangerous.

"For the last time, Petya, when are you going to learn some respect?" Vitya said. He was sulking somewhat at having been interrupted.

"Huh? I said good morning, didn't I?" Petya said, frowning in genuine confusion. Viktor sighed.

"You're lucky you're such a good bodyguard, or you'd have lost a limb by now," he said pointedly. Petya grinned.

"Well seeing as I haven't yet, I don't think Papa minds too much if I forget formalities from time to time, do you, boss?"

"As long as you do your job, it doesn't matter," Yuuri said simply. "I don't care." He made his way down the hall without another word, Viktor and Petya just behind.

"See, captain? No big deal."

"I'm not your captain, I'm your commander," Vitya snapped. "And just because the pakhan doesn't mind if you show proper respect, it doesn't mean you shouldn't. You've been in the ranks far too long to say it's just forgetfulness. Watch your tongue, or else."

"Yeesh, someone clearly didn't get any last night," Petya muttered. Viktor smacked him over the head none too gently. "Ow!"

"I have no idea what you did this time, Petya, but I'm absolutely certain you deserved it." Roma joined them from his post down the hall, bowing low to his superiors. "Morning, commander. Good morning, boss," he said.

"Morning, Roma," Viktor said.

"I didn't do anything!" Petya complained.

"Ha! You get away with murder compared to the rest of us, you fucking liar," Roma spat. "Honestly, how you're still alive is beyond me."

"I'm a bodyguard. Survival and protection are what I do," Petya said. "Speaking of which, weren't you and Alyosha supposed to have some info for us today?"

"Right, what did you find?" Viktor asked. Roma straightened and cleared his throat.

"We gathered some local intel about Katsuki Mari and the incident eighteen years ago. Everything she said checks out."

"And about the incident itself?" Yuuri asked, pausing at the door to the banquet hall.

"Only some old articles we couldn't read. Alyosha is running them through a translation module."

"Tell him not to bother, I've already read everything published about that night," he said, and Viktor recognized the cold look that he got whenever the subject of Toshiya's death was brought up.

"Y-Yes, boss."

The drive to the airport was a quiet one. Vitya wasn't sure how to feel, his throat dry as the car crossed through the city he'd lived in his whole life. In the seat next to him, Yuuri was sniffling, his small hand gripping onto Viktor's fingers desperately. Katerina kept looking back in the mirror at them, her face lined with worry.

"Yuratchka, it's not goodbye forever," she ventured reassuringly. Yuuri had been crying for days; neither Vitya nor Mikhail had had the heart to tell him the truth until just before he left, but when they did, the boy had become inconsolable. He's been so upset that he wouldn't speak to anyone, and even when Viktor let him sleep in his bed for the last few days, he never spoke a word and merely clung onto his brother with all his strength.

"Leave him be, Katya," Mikhail said softly from the driver's seat. "He should express himself however he needs to. Real strength comes from facing your pain, not hiding it away."

"Yes, but it will be a long time before we'll see Vitya again. Don't you want to smile with him a little longer, Yuuri?"

Yuuri didn't make any move to show that he'd heard her, but Viktor felt his hand tighten around his own slightly.

"I'll come back before you know it," he said, trying to keep a cheerful note in his tone. In truth, he wasn't sure when he would be allowed to return, if at all. His father could be very harsh, when he wanted to be.

Still, Yuuri didn't speak a word, not even when they finally arrived at the airport and began unloading Vitya's luggage. As the trunk was emptied, Viktor's heart seemed to beat faster; it was true that he was sad to be leaving his family behind and nervous at going somewhere new by himself, but somewhere deep inside, Vitya was a little excited at the idea of going to America. It was hard not to be; he was only twelve, but he felt old enough now to go on an adventure, like the ones young people always seemed to have in the books he read to Yuuri. He had never been the kind of boy to sulk for long periods of time either. He was restless by nature, and he was eager to begin the training that would eventually allow him to take his father's place.

"Viktor, let's go."

He blinked and realized the luggage had already been carried away by some of his father's men. Katerina and Mikhail began walking toward the terminal, and Vitya had to half-drag Yuuri forward. He was dragging his feet, his eyes staring blankly at the asphalt.

"I'll call you, every day if you want," he whispered out of his father's earshot. Yuuri's eyes shot up hopefully.

"Really?" he asked, his voice hoarse from lack of use.

"I'm not supposed to, but I'll try to figure out a way to do it."

Yuuri didn't say anything more, but he seemed a bit more cheerful as they made their way through the terminal. It was only once they reached security that it really hit Vitya that it was time to say goodbye.

"We can't go past this point with you, Vitya," Mikhail said, bending down to embrace his son. "Be good, don't cause your Uncle Valya any trouble."

"I won't," Vitya said quietly.

"I have something for you, Vitya," his mother said, a sad smile on her face. From somewhere in her coat she produced a small, fluffy puppy, fast asleep.

"Wow, I can have it?!" he asked delightedly as she handed the dog over. "How did you carry it this whole time?!"

"That's a secret," she winked. Her blue eyes sparkled in the morning light, and Viktor suddenly felt his throat tighten. "His name is Makkachin, and he'll keep you company in America. Take good care of him." She knelt down and hugged him tightly, kissing his cheek. "Dosvidanya, Vitya. I love you."

"Dosvidanya, mama... I love you too," he said, his voice breaking as tears started to flow down his cheeks.

Yuuri was last. Katerina nudged him forward, but he seemed frozen in place, unable to look at Viktor directly.

"Dosvidanya, Yuuri," he said, stroking his brother's soft hair with a gentle hand. Yuuri didn't make a move to say anything, or even to hug him goodbye. "Be good, okay?" He pulled his hand away and moved toward the line. It was only a minute or two later, as he crossed the security point, that a sudden cry made him turn back.

"Vitya! Vitya, don't go!" Yuuri cried, and Viktor saw that Mikhail was holding him by the hand, preventing him from running to his brother. "Come back, come back!"

"Yuuri, that's enough!" Mikhail shouted, but Yuuri was frantic, fighting his father with every ounce of strength his tiny body could muster.

"Vitya!"

Viktor meant to call back. He meant to at least wave and tell his brother that he loved him too, and that he would miss him. But he was jostled forward by the line, his hands occupied with holding on to the puppy, and before he knew it he'd crossed out of view. The last he saw of Yuuri, his brother of three years, was a boy with glasses askew, his cheeks wet, his brown eyes unable to comprehend that Vitya could leave him.

The next time he saw those eyes, they had long since come to accept that truth.

"The DNA results came in," Mari said without prompting, a strange looking pipe in her mouth. Yuuri raised an eyebrow and sat on the floor opposite her.

"And?"

She rested her cheek on her palm, staring at him with fierce concentration.

"Ane-ue?"

She grunted. "With those glasses on, you look more like Father than you did yesterday," she said reluctantly, blowing out a ring of smoke. To Viktor's surprise, Yuuri laughed.

"Not very honest, are you, sister?"

"I dunno what you're talking about," she huffed, but there was a small smile twitching at the corner of her mouth. "I suppose I should apologize for almost shooting you yesterday."

"I can tell you won't, though," he said, pulling out a cigarette. Viktor leaned in to light it for him.

"Can you blame me? I thought you were dead. They found a child's body, you know."

"I know. It was too damaged to get any good identification off it," Yuuri said, inhaling deeply as he put the cigarette to his lips.

"Whose was it?"

"Beats me. I was only a child myself."

The brother and sister shared a moment of silence.

"I suppose there's another reason you came back, other than to take over the Katsuki group," she finally said, tapping her pipe against her ashtray. "You won't be getting that back, by the way," she said sharply. "Even if you were the heir, I'm still the eldest and I've been rebuilding the group from scratch. This isn't Father's group anymore."

"Don't worry, I mean for you to have it," Yuuri said, brushing the hair from his face absentmindedly. Viktor found his gaze lingering over those familiar fingertips, imagining kissing them one by one.

Not now, he chided himself. Now is not the time to daydream.

"Didn't you want control of the group?" Mari asked.

"No. That was my father's ambition. Not mine," Yuuri said, his voice cold. He didn't specify which father he was talking about. "Now that I know you're here, and that you really are my sister, you're free to do as you like."

She gave him a distrustful glance. "You're not going to propose an alliance or a coalition?"

"Why should I? If you want to, that's another story, but like you said, it's not Father's group anymore. The Katsuki group is yours, I have no claim to it."

She scratched her cheek thoughtfully. "You're different than I expected, Yuuri."

It was the first time she'd used his name, and Viktor noticed that Yuuri gave a small start at the sound of it. His voice was measured and even when he spoke, however.

"That so?"

"Looking at your picture as a kid always made me think you must have been a quiet, sweet person," she said, putting her pipe down and reaching into her pocket. She pulled out an old, tattered photograph, yellowed with age. She slid it over the table to him, and he took it, looking at it for a moment before turning it over and handing it back to her.

"Must be a disappointment, finding out your cute little brother is actually a Russian-Japanese mutt, and in the mafia, to boot," he said.

She scoffed.

"As if that would bother me," she said, taking the photograph and replacing it in her pocket. "I meant that even though you acted like such an insufferable hot shot yesterday, it's pretty obvious that you're still that same sweet person, underneath the pakhan's mask."

Yuuri stared at her incredulously. A moment later he burst into genuine laughter.

"How the fuck did you get to that conclusion?!" he said once he'd caught his breath. "I've killed more people than I can count; some of them with my own two hands. I've seen things that might even shock you, sister, and you think I'm sweet?!"

Mari clicked her tongue.

"Laugh all you want. I'm not a fool, and I know what being in the mafia entails. Even so, I don't think you're quite as cold and detached as you like to sound. And I think your lapdog might agree with me," she said, catching Viktor's eye. He smiled and pressed a finger to his lips.

"I'll have to stop you there, ane-ue," he said brightly. "My master doesn't like me to agree with anyone but him, and I rather like my position."

She snorted. "Now you, Nikiforov... you're a much more difficult man to pin down. I can't tell if you're a pervert or a masochist or both. Though, seeing as you carry around your marriage certificate, maybe you're just an idiot."

"I wouldn't know," Vitya grinned. "I'm whatever my pakhan wishes me to be."

"... A masochistic idiot, then."

"Sometimes."

"Most of the time," Yuuri said, grinning up at him. "Though I definitely never asked for that, Vitya."

"Alright alright, enough," Mari groaned. "I haven't even eaten breakfast yet, I don't have the stomach for this sickening couples' display just now."

"In honor of our newfound ties, I'll spare you that," Yuuri said, clearly amused. "Though with one condition, sister."

"Hmm? What would that be?"

"I'd like to visit Father's grave."

The scenery outside the window reminded Viktor a little of Central Park. There was so much green everywhere that it felt like looking at a landscape painting, though it was distinctly different from the urban refuge of New York. Everything about Hasetsu felt small in scale, but Vitya found that he rather liked it.

"I can see why this town used to be famous for its hot springs," he said aloud as they passed a grove of cherry trees by the river. "There's so much nature, it would be difficult not to relax here."

"It gets dull when you actually live here," Mari replied. She was seated in the passenger seat next to the driver, lazily flicking the ashes of her thousandth cigarette out the window. Viktor had always thought that Yuuri smoked too much, but Mari was quickly giving him a run for his money.

"I'm surprised you can run a crime syndicate in such a rural town," he noted.

"You'd be surprised," she said, running a hand through her hair. "We manage a tidy profit, though we don't only operate in Hasetsu."

"Interesting." Viktor looked over to Yuuri, but he was staring out the window, his eyes blank. He knew that was a sign to leave him be for a while.

"Should I turn here, ma'am?" the driver asked in heavily accented English. Mari shook her head.

"Next road," she said simply. She gave the driver and appraising look and turned back to address Viktor. "My brother said all the men here are in your inner circle. The driver too?"

Vitya saw Kolya's blue eyes flick toward him in the mirror.

"Ah, Kolya's not my dog," Viktor said smoothly. "He belongs to our obshchak."

"Your what?"

"It's what we call the pakhan's left hand."

"I thought that was you."

"No, I'm the right hand. The sovietnik," he explained, returning to stare out the window lazily. "My dogs are in the other car, with yours," he said, motioning behind them with his head. "Kolya and Adrian, the one with the tattoo, are on loan from our obshchak. Though, of course, they belong to Yuuri as much as they belong to her."

Yuuri made a small movement at the sound of his name.

"Her?" Mari asked, surprised. "You have a woman in your inner circle?"

"Two," Viktor corrected. "Our obshchak, who is back in St. Petersburg, and Antosha, who you've met."

Mari frowned in concentration.

"You mean the one with long hair? I thought that was a man."

"She's very androgynous," he admitted. "And she was named after a man as well."

"Well some of you Russians look very feminine, to be honest," Mari muttered. "It's hard to tell."

Kolya smiled.

"Perhaps you mean me?" he asked good-naturedly.

"Well... I can imagine you get mistaken for a woman often," she said, taking a drag from yet another cigarette.

"You vouldn't be the first, ma'am." He pulled at a strand of his golden hair, examining it nonchalantly. "Perhaps I should cut it, commander?" he asked in Russian.

"No, it suits you," Viktor said, shrugging. "And it suits your job as well," he added in English.

"His job?"

"Kolya is the avtoriyet who oversees... a very specific subset of the bratva's businesses."

Mari raised her eyebrow at his vague explanation. Kolya's mouth twitched with amusement.

"He means I run our... how do you call it in English, boss?"

"Prostitution ring," Yuuri supplied in Viktor's place. He was alert again, pulling off his glasses to wipe them clean on his shirt.

"Ah, yes, prostitutes. Vomen and men," he said thoughtfully. "It's a job that comes with a lot of... talking. People feel reassured ven they meet me, for some reason."

"You know exactly why, Kolya," Yuuri scoffed. Neither Viktor nor Kolya elaborated.

"You work for a woman, though?" Mari asked, obviously interested.

"Ya. Mila Babicheva. A curious one," Kolya said.

"Turn right here," Mari directed him. "How so?"

"She's a very smart voman. Very driven. But she's only eighteen."

"She's in the inner circle so young?"

"She had the talent, so she was rewarded for it," Yuuri said. "It's as simple as that."

"I see." A moment later, Mari pointed to a small dirt road, hidden among the trees. "This is the place."

Viktor was not entirely prepared for his arrival at the airport in New York. The flight had been exhausting and long, and his initial curiosity and excitement had given in to a rather panicked feeling in the pit of his stomach. Makkachin had been good the entire flight, and he hadn't been asked to put him in a pet carrier (Vitya suspected that his parents had pulled some strings or intimidated someone over it) but now he was faced with the difficulties of feeding himself and a small puppy when he barely spoke a word of English. He wasn't sure where to go or how to talk to anyone, only that he had to go through what his father had said was called "customs" and meet his uncle on the other side.

No one seemed to have a Russian translator on hand. There were some for what Viktor recognized as Spanish or French, even Chinese, but every time he was asked a question by a uniformed man and he clumsily replied "No English, Russian," as he'd been taught, the officers would frown and mutter something he didn't understand. After being asked several questions in as simple a manner as possible (complete with gestures and pointing), he was finally ushered through, passport and dog in hand.

Now what?he asked himself, staring at the signs that he couldn't read. Makkachin whined in his arms.

"D-don't cry," he said, trying to calm him the way he had with Yuuri when he was smaller. "I'll get us food somehow, promise."

A small pang of guilt went through him.

I want you to promise, whenever you're in trouble, call for me. If you can do that, I'll come flying right away, no matter where you are.

I'm sorry, Yuuri, he thought, hugging Makkachin close as he stood lost and alone in the corridor. I promised to come to you whenever you called, and I wasn't even able to respond when you were crying for me. I'm sorry... please, forgive me.

"Wait here. We'll be back," Yuuri said as he and Mari disembarked from the car. Viktor gave a small nod as Yuuri closed the door on him.

"Hmm? You're not going, commander?" Kolya asked in Russian, glancing back at Viktor as he stretched out in his seat.

"He doesn't want me there right now," Viktor said, sighing. "It's a private moment, father to son, or something."

"I'm surprised," Kolya said. "The boss rarely does anything without you at his side."

"He's not a child, Kolya," Viktor said. "He's the pakhan. He does whatever he wants, however he wants. It's not our place to question him."

"Not mine, no. But I don't think you're in quite the same position as me, sir."

Viktor laughed. "You shouldn't stick your nose where it doesn't belong. You might be Mila's dog, but I'm still your superior. Don't talk about things you don't understand, or you might find yourself in an unpleasant situation one day."

"Yes sir, apologies."

"As long as you get it," he said, reaching into his breast pocket for his lighter. "You have cigarettes, Kolya?"

"I do, but... I didn't know you smoked, sir," Kolya replied, pulling a box out of his pocket and holding it out to Viktor.

"I don't." He nevertheless proceeded to take one and light it. "I hate the feeling of inhaling this crap," he said as he raised it to his lips and took a drag. He felt like being a little reckless; he'd been dwelling on unpleasant memories all morning.

Kolya gave him a confused look in the mirror but didn't question him further.

A few minutes later, Viktor coughed.

"Damn it, fucking smoke everywhere," he muttered, opening the door and getting out. Kolya followed suit.

Behind their car, a second black Benz was parked haphazardly on the curb, several people leaning against the windows.

"Commander? We thought you went with the boss," Petya said, surprised to see Viktor step out of the car. Roma and another man with brown hair and eyes turned to look at his outburst.

"Will everyone just leave me alone?" Viktor muttered to himself. Kolya seemed to have heard because he chuckled as he walked over to the others.

"Adrian, did you hear from commander Babicheva?" he asked. The brown haired man shook his head slightly, not bothering to reply. There was a striking tattoo on the side of his neck, most of which was hidden from view by his immaculate suit. There was a subdued, almost dangerous air about him, but Kolya seemed perfectly at ease as he joined him.

"No word, huh? I wonder if she's fine, dealing with our jobs while we're out of the country."

Adrian merely shrugged.

"Right, I'm probably worrying too much," Kolya said brightly, lighting his own cigarette. "She's probably stomping delightedly on some idiot's balls, shoving coke down their throats."

Adrian nodded.

"I'll never understand you two," Roma said, giving them a bemused look. "Never mind your fucking bizarre one-sided conversations; I always hear you fawning over commander Babicheva as if she were a puppy or something."

"Well, she's pretty cute," Kolya said thoughtfully.

"Cute?! That woman is a nightmare," Roma shuddered. "Last time she 'borrowed' me, I saw her personally castrate five different men. With a smile on her face. And immediately after, she announced we were all going out for barbecue, as if she'd just finished a regular day at a desk job. She still had blood on her cheek while we were eating."

"Ah, she's especially adorable when she's all indifferent like that, right, Adrian?" Kolya said fondly. "Like a cute little sister." Adrian nodded, though his expression remained blank.

"Fucking weirdos," Roma muttered. "Cute clearly means something completely different to you two."

"Hmm? Isn't your definition of cute somewhat off too, Roma?" Viktor said, unable to hold back a grin. He felt less irritated now in the fresh sea air. "You're always telling anyone who'll listen about how great your son is."

"Leave my Yuri out of this," he grunted, green eyes narrowed. "This and that are completely different."

Petya chuckled. "Are they now? We're not going to get the lecture on how Yuri Plisetsky is a beautiful swan in the cutthroat skating world today?"

"You shut it. Yuri is adorable, okay?!"

"He's called the Russian Yankee for a reason, you know," Petya said, tapping his shoe on the ground.

"Hmph, so he can take care of himself. It doesn't make him any less cute."

"You always were a ridiculously doting father, Roma," Viktor laughed. "It's nice. You and Yulia really stepped up to the plate as parents, despite your circumstances."

"Well I only joined to support them," Roma said, leaning back on the car. "What else was I supposed to do? I was sixteen, my girlfriend was pregnant, we needed money. Nothing paid better than the bratva."

"Most men in your situation would have probably run out, though."

"Perhaps, but I'm not them. Yulia and Yuri are everything to me. I'd die for them."

A contemplative silence fell over the small group, which was only broken when Kolya put out his cigarette with his shoe.

"What happened to the yaposhkas?" he asked.

"Dunno. They wandered off somewhere after we parked," Roma shrugged. "Does it matter?"

"Not really. Just curious. They're very different from the boss, aren't they?"

"The boss is a Russian," Roma said sharply. "It's not the same thing."

"You didn't always think so," Petya said, and Adrian nodded in agreement.

"Well that was before, alright? And it doesn't make any difference outside the inner circle anyway. As far as the rest of the bratva is concerned, Commander Nikiforov is the pakhan."

Viktor gave a snort of laughter.

"Those poor idiots. They'd have a heart attack if they knew the most infamous mafia family in Russia was run by a Japanese man. As if I could do half as good a job as Yuuri."

No one seemed to have a reply to that, and they found they didn't need one. Mari and Yuuri were making their way back toward them.

"Let's go, we're done here," Yuuri said simply, and everyone bowed respectfully before getting back in the cars. The Katsuki men seemed to reappear out of thin air not long after.

"What now, Yuuri?" Mari asked as the car pulled away from the curb. Yuuri stared out the window pensively. It was a look Viktor recognized, one that made him uneasy.

"Now we find the bastard who put Father in the ground."

Somehow, Viktor managed to find his way through the terminal by following the general sense of traffic. His heart sunk when he emerged into a crowd of people holding up signs, but the sight of his own name in Russian easily stood out.

"Uncle!" he cried, pushing his way through the throng. A large, burly man with his father's eyes smiled widely as he approached.

"Vitya!" he laughed, his voice booming as he knelt to embrace his nephew. "Look at you, all grown up now! You were this small the last time I saw you!" he said, holding his fingers together in an exaggerated gesture. "You look just like Katya, too. What a relief. The last thing we needed was another Nikiforov heir that looked like me and Mikhail!" From behind his uncle, a young boy with green eyes and cropped blond hair stared curiously at Viktor.

"Hello," Vitya said, trying to be friendly.

"Come on, say hello," Valya insisted, nudging the boy forward. "Vitya, this is Christophe Giacometti, but you can call him Chris. He's your cousin."

"Hi," the boy said quietly. He had an odd accent, as if he wasn't used to speaking Russian. He was younger than Viktor, perhaps ten or so, and clearly nervous.

"Nice to meet you," Viktor smiled. "I'm Viktor Nikiforov, but I guess you already knew that." Chris smiled shyly in return.

"You two will be rooming together," Valya explained as they headed over to claim Viktor's luggage. "Chris has been cleaning out his room to make space for you, and I'm sure you'll get along fine. There's a bit of a language barrier, but I think it will work out. We'll start teaching you English first, Vitya; Chris' Russian is still a bit rudimentary."

"Okay," Viktor replied, holding onto Makkachin to prevent the dog from jumping out of his arms in the crowd.

"Katya called to let me know about the dog, so I have some food in the car for him," Valya said, ruffling Viktor's hair. "But you're probably starving too. We'll get you something to eat once we've loaded your things into the car."

"Thank you, Uncle."

Viktor was so tired that he hardly noticed when they'd piled his suitcases onto a cart and left the terminal. He was only vaguely aware of being settled in a car seat, Makkachin licking his face. He thought they ate, though he couldn't be sure of where or when, and the next thing he knew he was lying on a mattress, barely awake.

"Vitya, Katya called to ask after you. She says your brother wants to speak with you," Uncle Valya's voice echoed oddly in his ears.

"Mm, I'll... call him... later..." he muttered, unable to keep his eyes open. He thought he heard someone calling his name in the distance, but as his dreams carried him away to fantastic worlds of unknown adventure, he forgot all about it.

Notes:

Crap, I didn't mean to write this long or rambling of a chapter, but there you have it. First off, HAPPY NEW YEAR to all of my readers in the future. For the rest of you waiting impatiently to slay 2016, hang in there, we're almost at the end of the battle.

There are a lot of new characters in this chapter, some of which are familiar and some of which are less so.

1) Mila Babicheva worked her way up the ranks with her own skill, though she had an advantage in being the former obshchak, Yakov Feltman's, adopted daughter. He was against her joining the business but Mila did her own thing.
2) Yuri Plisetsky is Roma's son. Like in the anime, he's fifteen, and he's also a figure skater.
3) Chris isn't blood related to Vitya. Like Yuuri, he was adopted into Uncle Valya's family. More on that later.
4) I've detailed the entirety of the bratva's inner circle, so if there's a lot of name dropping, you can check this handy dandy chart on twitter that I spent a whole day working on: /Okaeri_Kairi/status/814665563876179969

[Just add twitter's address to the beginning of that link]

Anyway, I hope you'll enjoy my crappy, slow burn update! I hope it isn't too boring a read. ^^;