Yuuri's chair creaks behind him as he leans back in contemplation. He's sitting on his desk, waiting impatiently for his desktop to boot up.
There's no beating around the bush. He's somehow found himself stuck in the past. Great.
But where exactly is he, in the grand scheme of things? From what he's understood, his junior coach has just switched skaters. That makes it September. Yuuri remembers this year vaguely, - he remembers the embarrassment of having to pull out of the season, coachless, but not much else.
If he's going to convincingly wing it, he will need to know all the facts and information. If he's going to say fuck it to the universe, well, he might as well do it right.
That means research. Like everything else in his life, Yuuri figures it's best to start with skating.
His fingers fly across the keyboard, the sound of the keys breaking through the stillness of his room. There is only one person who embodies skating for Yuuri, and it's purely muscle memory that he starts to type the words 'Viktor Nikiforov' into the search engine.
He swallows, throat drying as a picture of twenty-one year old Viktor fills his screen.
It's taken from last season's Grand Prix, a gold medal hung around his neck reflecting the camera flashes aimed towards him. He looks so young - long hair flooding around his shoulders in star-lit waves, ice-blue eyes winking roguishly with a political smile. He's a dream.
Yuuri scrolls past it quickly, rushing to click any link that would take him away from the picture. He doesn't realise what he's clicked on until the fanpage starts to load.
It's one of Viktor's most popular Japanese fansites, EMPEROR , one that Yuuri is intimately familiar with. He can feel the blood rush to his cheeks when it automatically logs him in, welcoming him back to the forum. He swiftly taps to the home page, where a list of Viktor's achievements are bullet-pointed, each with a linked video of the event.
Currently, Viktor is competing in his third year on the senior circuit. Two years ago, he had won silver at the Olympics when he was only nineteen, which were preceded by two World medals, silver and gold. Last season, he became the first person to win both the World Championships, Europeans and the Grand Prix Finals in a single season. An Emperor of total dominance.
It was last year's World championship where he landed the first ratified quadruple flip, slightly over-turning the landing but enough for him to cinch the win by a landslide. Since, he has shown his ability to land it perfectly in practice videos leaked to the press.
The blood drains from Yuuri's face as he reads the words 'quadruple flip'. He flounders slightly, finally pinpointing what time exactly he's travelled to.
Yuuri stands at the precipice of figure skating history.
Quadruple jumps, that is four rotations in the air, are essentially a new skating element. Despite the first quadruple jump, a toe-loop, having been landed over twenty years ago, the quad jump has never been a staple in figure skating. All of that stemmed from the Olympics ten years ago, where three skaters favoured to win had all lost podium finishes because of a failed quad attempt. Since then, there had been an executive shift within skating.
If you want to win, you didn't do a quad.
The toe-loop and salchow were the typical quad jumps in a skater's arsenal, with the toe-loop heavily favoured. Even then, the salchow was almost never used in competition, with skaters opting to only do one quad in either the short or long. The toe-loop was easily controlled, so most would attempt it, with varying degrees of success. Even then, the focus was on perfected triple jumps, particularly the axel.
That was until Viktor came along.
Last season changed things. By landing the quadruple flip, Viktor would begin to usher in a new age of skating - one where a skater could land different types of quads. It broke the scoring system - if you had one skater who could land multiple quadruple jumps, how could anyone else compete?
Of course, quads are not new to Yuuri. By the time he started seniors, the 'quad revolution' was already well underway. Science had shifted more focus on stabilising the jumps and adding to there consistency.
He had an intimate love-hate relationship with the intensive jump, but after over a decade of being in the sport, quadruple jumps were as easy as breathing for him. He and Yura had made history by being the only two skaters in the world who had mastered every single quadruple jump - the toe-loop, salchow, loop, flip, lutz and the axel.
But it would be fucking weird now if he, who had never landed a quadruple jump before, was suddenly able to land six different kinds, three of which had never been landed before. It feels like cheating, and something inside Yuuri squirms at the uncomfortable feeling in his stomach.
Well, it's not like he asked to be thrown back into the past.
He exits the browser quickly, pushing himself away from the computer.
It's late September, so senior competitions wouldn't have started yet but most Junior events were done and dusted. Viktor and Chris had yet to compete at their respective Grand Prix events, so it's no wonder that in the past, Yuuri had quit whilst he was ahead. For him, the season was already over.
Sighing, Yuuri bites back the embarrassment of typing his own name into Google. Finding only a few dozen hits or so, a huge contrast to Viktor, he clicks on his official profile on the JSF website.
He's still listed as competing at Juniors, which is a good sign that he hasn't officially withdrawn from the season and ended his junior career prematurely.
In the past, Yuuri had opted out of competing this year, instead preparing for the next year's move to America and his senior debut. Of course, this was all because Nobu had decided to coach another skater.
After a quick cursory glance on the official JSF website, Yuuri finds that he's still ranked as the best junior figure skater in Japan. Whilst it was ordinary for female skaters to move up to seniors when they were fifteen, male skaters tended to move once they were eighteen. By then, most of their bodies would be able to handle a quadruple jump, albeit, at the moment most skaters wouldn't even bother.
Yuuri sighs heavily. God, Viktor and Yuri truly were prodigies. He scoffs out a laugh. The teenage wonder duo, able to shut everyone up with a perfectly timed quadruple jump!
Of all the years for Yuuri to block out, it just had to be this year. It comes to bite him in the ass. He can only remember it vaguely.
Without the need for training, Yuuri had turned his focus towards his studies. He graduated high school with little fanfare, junior career ended on a stale note. His move to America was purely out of motivation to change everyone's perspective around him - that he was worth the support of the federation and his country.
Yuuri was already a has-been in juniors. It shocks him to this day that the JSF supported him as much as they did. He thinks of all the snide comments made at competitions - " He's a good skater, but what good is that if he's mentally weak?" - "Why do they support him so much? - "Think he bribes them?" - "No way, if he was, he'd be under one of the other clubs-" , - and flushes with anger.
The federation had always been accommodating and kind to Yuuri. They had organised to find him a senior coach despite his bad showings the last few years. Then, they had somehow pulled Celestino, a well-known coach who himself was a three-time Olympic ice dance medalist.
In the past, with nothing else to do, Yuuri had thrown himself into his studies in order to get a scholarship at any one of the Detroit universities. It meant that his tuition was paid for, so he and his parents only had to pay for accommodation of Celestino's coaching fees, which in itself Yuuri later realised was lower than normal.
Celestino had truly tried his best for Yuuri's sake. The experience of Nobu had left a bitter taste in Yuuri's mouth, and he closed himself off from Celestino. He didn't accept any sort of help, to the point where he'd never been able to appreciate how good of a coach Celestino truly was.
It's no wonder that it had taken the divine intervention of Viktor, and all the absurdity that he brought, for Yuuri to forget about his own internal issues and do as well as he had.
When Viktor had become his coach, Yuuri finally was able to prove that their support wasn't a mistake. He'd done it in an explosion of stype, becoming the first Japanese male skater to win world titles, Grand Prix finals and an Olympic champion.
But, right now, he's not that Yuuri. It's always with hindsight that people realise how loved and supported they were.
He'd only be eligible for juniors this year. There's no telling how he would react if he saw Viktor again whilst competing at seniors - god, he might not even compete at seniors. He could crumble and fail, burst into tears or refuse to skate ever again.
The Grand Prix Finals would host both seniors and juniors for the first time in history - this might be his last chance to be at the same competition as Viktor. This was his last chance.
So Yuuri sits back, puts those college years he has under his belt to use, and researches.
Google was a bust.
Juniors wasn't a highly reported field anyway, even more so when Yuuri wasn't a favourite to win. There were only a few articles here and there that spoke about him, but when they did, Morooko-san's name was always attached. Yuuri feels a flush of endearment at the familiar sight of the reporter's name. Yet another person Yuuri had failed to notice was on his side.
Instead, he turns to Youtube.
There had to be something that he could use, an uploaded video, commentary, anything. If push comes to shove, he knows Yuuko or Mari should have recordings of his more recent performances.
But that was Plan Z. If they found out Yuuri couldn't remember his programs, forget the ice, he'd be on a one-way trip to the hospital.
Typing his name into the search bar is as humiliating as it always is, but Yuuri forces himself through it and clicks enter.
It takes him scrolling to the end of the page before he finds a blurred thumbnail that looks slightly like a skater and the words 'Katsuki Yuuri - JGP Vienna (FS)' greets him.
The Youtube channel has around a hundred subscribers, but it's the name that catches his attention.
IceCastle_Skates .
Fucking hell. The apple sure doesn't fall far from the tree, it seems.
A part of Yuuri wants to yell at Yuuko for ever uploading his videos online, but the part of him that needs this video is overwhelmed with relief.
He quickly opens up his drawer, searching for a notebook. Only finding a few bits of scrap papers and a pen with the nib half-dried, he sits back into his chair. He barely remembers his programs, but they can't be that bad.
Yuuri doesn't even know how he got into the finals. Throwing his head into his hands, he squeezes his eyes shut.
Lohengrin.
How did he forget that his last season in Juniors was Lohengrin.
The program was a horrible fit for the music, and there was absolutely no reference at all to the opera it was inspired by. All of the jumps were forced within short concession of each other, right at the beginning of the piece which did not work with the soft opening of violins.
The music was dreamy, chivalric, a moment where a prince falls in love at first sight. It's about elevation, extensions, arms circling in soft, delicate sweeps. It's about romance .
It was not about a bombardment of jumps that destroys all musical cadence like a capultated mess of limbs.
Fury rises within Yuuri's stomach. Call him a classical music snob, but Okukawa Minako did not raise a heathen. He cannot allow the butchering of any piece of music - it makes his skin crawl .
No wonder he'd dropped through the rankings - safe wasn't even the word, the program was a complete bore. Sure, he was definitely a better skater now then when he was at age thirteen, but no amount of experience and perfect edges could make this program podium-worthy.
Minako had been his choreographer since debut. This was most definitely not her work.
Sighing, Yuuri runs a hand through his hair, feeling disheveled. Vicchan, sensing his owner's distress, hops down and circles around Yuuri's feet in comfort.
Nobu hadn't thought Yuuri was capable of Minako's choreography, but now he wonders if it was more of an ego-trip than about Yuuri's ability. Nobu's stint as a choreographer/coach was obviously not good.
Whilst she was a harsh teacher, Minako-sensei had never told Yuuri he was incapable of doing something. She would break him down to all his weaknesses, but then teach him how to turn them into strengths.
As he sits in his chair, in a room that's both familiar and strange to him, Yuuri cannot help the immense anger that overcomes him.
It had taken him being sent back to the past to realise it. Yuuri recognises the impact Nobu had on him as a skater. Impressionable and young, Nobu had ruined Yuuri's already fraying confidence before his career had even started. It was no wonder that it took fucking Viktor Nikiforov to break through Yuuri's shell. Immensely, he feels guilt towards Celestino.
He wonders how different things would be, if he could be coached by him now , with Yuuri's understanding and knowledge of himself. Yuuri is secure in his abilities, confident in ways that he never has been before.
Nobu did not deserve to be a coach, especially for juniors.
"Everything worked out in the end though," Yuuri muses out loud, trying to expel his anger. His poodle tries to jump up into his arms, and Yuuri is quick to bring him into his lap. He lifts Vicchan up to his face, and starts to talk to him.
"If I wasn't suddenly thrown back to this specific moment, I wouldn't even have remembered his name. Don't think he does well as a coach, Vicchan, all things considered.."
Vicchan yips in response, lolling his tongue out cheekily. Yuuri breaks out into a grin.
"You are completely right. A little pettiness never hurt anyone, did it?"
It takes some time, but after rewatching his performance video five times straight, Yuuri has noted down all the technical aspects of his program that he needs to change.
The original choreography had been too adventurous in Nobu's opinion, and by lowering the technical elements of the step sequences and the spins, Yuuri suffered both from a performative and a technical standpoint.
He doesn't want to think about the jump sequences. Yuuri knows that at this stage of his career, he can comfortably do all the triple jumps, (although his triple axel was a little shaky). But it's not the technique that makes Yuuri groan, but the transitions .
There is a clear difference between the jump section and the skating section. There is no flair, no integration between the technical elements of jumps and the choreographic sections.
The program has long loading time between jumps which stuck out like a sore thumb in the middle of his program. It took away from the audience's experience, and the component score suffered.
For fucks sake, Nobu had made him do double axels when there were thirteen year olds doing triples.
He begrudgingly admits that his programs aren't bad - he has always been his worst critic - but these programs are made for a thirteen year old, a junior skater in their first year of competing.
Yuuri was seventeen - he had been in juniors for over four years now.
These programs will not cut it.
With the doctor's note still fresh in his mind, Yuuri's body itches impatiently with a desire to get back onto the ice. He's sure that if he stepped foot in Ice Castle, Nishigori would grab him by the collar and drag him back home, probably injuring him more on the way. Minako-sensei would be even worse. Apparently, exercise extended to ballet too.
"Guess the only option is to work on what I can. Step sequence it is." He tells Vicchan. "Come on, help me move the table and bed."
Vicchan yips by his side, watching as Yuuri rolls up his rug and pushes his bed closer to the window. He nudges away his side table, and is left with enough room to freely walk. The empty space is narrow and there's barely any room, but Yuuri's body is pulsing with the need to dance.
Vicchan barks for attention, trotting towards Yuuri with his blue walkman clamped in his mouth. He sets it by Yuuri's feet and looks up for praise, and who is Yuuri if he doesn't oblidge?
"Oh, you good boy. You're such a good boy, my baby." He showers Vicchan with affection, kissing the top of his head and scratching under his chin. Vicchan licks his hand in an attempt of a kiss, before allowing Yuuri to lift him onto the bed so he can settle by the pillows.
The first notes of Wagner's prelude resonate through his earphones and Yuuri closes his eyes, soaking up the atmosphere of the music. He lifts his head and raises his arms towards the ceiling.
It's quiet, and then the violins begin to ring.
There is a long history of figure skating in Yuuri's country.
In the late 80s, skating was comparable to baseball, competing as one of Japan's national sports.
Sawamura Aiko, Takeshi Yuki, Honda Himari - these were just some of the powerhouse skaters who were able to establish Japan amongst the dominance of the European and American federations.
Sawamura had been the first Japanese skater in history to medal at ISU-officiated events, including a bronze at Worlds, and the only Japanese figure skater to win an Olympic medal, achieving the bronze after a close fight for silver with the Canadian skater, Maria Glenn.
Takeshi had further cemented Japan's place in the figure skating world by becoming the first male Japanese skater to qualify for the Grand Prix Finals, ranking in the top six of male skaters worldwide and thus proving that Japan was able to produce skaters from the two main disciplines.
Then came Honda-san, who established herself as Japan's most beloved figure skater by becoming the first skater to win silver at Worlds, so close to the gold.
The single thread that connected the three was MSY.
Musashi School of Skating, established in the heart of Tokyo, Japan. Osawa Skating Club, founded in the mountains of Saitama. And finally, Yamura Osaka, the renowned home rink of Sawamura Aiko, settled in her hometown.
MSY was the epitome of elite figure skating within the country. They had affiliations with some of Japan's most prestigious sports universities - if you were scouted by one of the three clubs, it meant that the JSF had an invested interest in you. You had potential.
Likewise, if you were a coach under one of those clubs, the same was said about you. So, if it truly was Yamura that had offered Nobu a job, well - Yuuri couldn't really hold it against him that much. Just being affiliated with one of the three clubs would set you up for success.
But despite this, there was one huge glaring void that taunted all three schools and the JSF for years .
Despite being so well respected, despite having Olympians and Grand Prix finalists, Japan has never produced a senior champion . Ever. Not in ladies, pairs, ice dancing or mens.
The closest had been Aiko-san, with her Olympic bronze, but even she failed to become a World champion.
The three skating schools that boasted themselves as the greatest in the country were nonexistent at the international level. Those spots were taken entirely by the Europeans, Canadians and Americans, with China edging out Japan due to their dominance in pairs.
It wasn't until Viktor had started coaching Yuuri that the vacuum aws filled. He had thought it was Viktor's presence, despite the grandness of MSY, nothing could beat having the Viktor Nikiforov backing you.
Hindsight is a beautiful thing - now, he recognises the looks he was given. Those expressions of awe and admiration were not solely directed towards Viktor.
For all intents and purposes, Yuuri Katsuki never should've been the one - Japan's hero, their ace skater. He had broken out into the international field without the help of the top three skating schools even before Viktor had started coaching him.
And well, after that, the rest was history.
He didn't have the backing of Yumoto. He wasn't one of the judges favourites like the Musashi skaters were or had the specialised facilities created for the skaters in Osawa. But he did have Viktor Nikiforov - and that in itself was worth more than anything the other clubs could try and throw their money to get.
( "It's because of Yuuri-senpai that I kept skating."
Minami gazed up at him. He had skated towards Yuuri, who was sitting on the edge of the ice rink as other skaters practiced their gala performances for Nationals, and looked perpetually happy just to be in his presence. Yuuri had won his second consecutive title, with Minami winning silver at his first senior outing.
Minami, who was about to move up to seniors, had latched on to Yuuri as fast as he could, following the skater around during the practice session for the gala.
"I know that you sometimes feel overwhelmed when I come over, but I just can't help myself! You paved the way, senpai! You showed Japan that someone from outside of the major three could not only compete, but beat them. I won't let your hard work go to waste, Yuuri-senpai!" He looked resolute, eyes steeled in determination.
"I promise I'll meet you at the international level! We'll represent Japan together!" )
It fuels something in Yuuri, as he goes through marking out a new step sequence in the small space of his room. It's been only thirty minutes and he's out of breath, sweat forming on his forehead. Already, he knows that he'll have to change his training regiment to accommodate his future plans, with an increased focus on stamina especially.
After all, his kouhai is waiting for him.
(Yura had screamed bloody murder when he had discovered Minami and Yuuri's promise. Viktor had always made comments about the young Russian having a possessive streak that far outweighed that of his own, but it wasn't until that moment Yuuri realised there was some truth to his husband's banter.
Yuri had made it his mission to destroy Minami in every single competition, going so far as to enter smaller events in order to allow another match up. And thus, the skating world welcomed the start of a fierce, albeit one-sided, rivalry.)
Yuuri snorts at the memory, laughing at the thought of Minami and Yuri skating against each other again. He had gone to watch every competition between the two and the hilarity of Yura's one-sided hatred was enough comedic enjoyment to last Yuuri a lifetime.
God, he missed Yuri so much, almost as much as Viktor.
He would be ten now, Yuuri realises. Not even eligible to compete at junior competitions.
Was he even being trained by Yakov? When was it that he moved to St. Petersburg- was it eleven or twelve? Yuuri can't remember, but by god, he doesn't think he can wait three years to see him again.
It would be an entirely new experience - this time, Yuuri could watch Yuri's journey right from the start.
There's a warm feeling fluttering inside of his body. It takes a moment for him to realise that it's excitement.
He had been so holed up within his own misery that he hadn't realised just how much he would be able to witness now that he knew the weight of those events.
Yura's junior debut, the start of Viktor's brilliance - no matter how shit the situation is, the thought of seeing all of this first hand again fires him up.
There is no word to describe this elation - the thought of seeing Yuri and Viktor, even if it's from afar, would be enough to sate him. He wouldn't get greedy and ask the universe for them to love him again. Just the fact he can see them, even if it's from afar, was a blessing in itself.
It would be enough just to see them. But, in order to do that, Yuuri needed to get better, needs to be a good enough skater that he'll be able to compete at the same level.
It would only be a fraction of what Yuuri longs for, but that will have to do.
Having them again in his life, even if he could only see them a handful of times a year during competitions, would settle his anxiety-ridden heart. In an ironic turn of events, Yuuri wishes time to pass by quicker.
Even if he would become nothing to them in this timeline - if he's just another skater in a crowd of magnificent athletes not worth their time - the physical sight of his boys would be enough.
"Yuuri." Toshiya's eyes widens as he takes in the sight of his son slumping over one of the inn's tables. It's five in the morning. For all intents and purposes, Yuuri should be in his bed, sleeping .
"Morning, tou-san." Yuuri yawns, rubbing his eyes to wake himself up. "Do you need anything?"
Toshiro can't help the way his mouth drops open.
"Tou-san?"
Toshiya gapes at the sound of Yuuri's voice, "Are you feeling okay?" He says suddenly, rushing to his son's side. "How long have you-"
Toshiya cuts himself off, eyeing darting to the dark bags under his son's eyes. He notices open notebooks strewn across the table, and Mari's IPad next to them, open to what looks like a video of Yuuri practicing.
His throat constricts with emotion. Mari had mentioned off-handedly that Nobu had gotten a better offer from another student in a bigger city. His son must've been up all night trying to figure out what to do, to see if there was another coach willing to take him on.
He steels his feelings, turning his back to Yuuri so his son can't see the tears welling in his eyes. "You can help me peel potatoes." He says instead.
Yuuri nods his head in response lethargically, body slumbering along as he follows his father's footsteps into the kitchen. He's half-awake, yawning repeatedly that Toshiya thinks he'll fall over himself if he takes another step. But all Yuuri does is sit on the floor of the kitchen, crossing his legs under him as he methodically starts to peel the skin off the potatoes, one at a time.
They sit in silence, Toshiya washing vegetables and Yuuri peeling them. He seems to become more alert as minutes pass, delving through the pounds of potatoes his mother would need for the morning breakfast.
"I'm sorry, Yuuri-kun."
Toshiya's voice breaks through the kitchen, and Yuuri looks up at his father in confusion. "About what?" His eyes are questioning, forehead furrowing.
"About Nobu-san. I know how hard it was to find a coach that could stay in Hasetsu."
"You don't have to say sorry, tou-san." Yuuri says firmly. "It's not your fault."
"But still, let me at least say sorry about the situation." Toshiya sighs heavily. "I know you'll get through this, but as your father, I will always worry. Your mother and I can look into finding some money and set you up at one of those school-"
"No."
Toshiya flinches. There is something different in his son's eyes, a stubbornness that he has never seen before. Yuuri is resolute in his decision, and just as Toshiya opens his mouth to respond, Mari storms into the kitchen, mouth stretched out into a yawn.
"Sorry I'm late- AHHH!" She screams. "Tou-san, pinch me. I think I'm hallucinating."
"Shut up." Yuuri mumbles, the tips of his ears burning red.
"No, no, no. I really think I've finally lost it." Mari is wide awake, leering down at Yuuri with a leer. "My little ototo is such a big boy now, waking up before 3PM-"
Mari yelps as Yuuri fires a potato at her head.
Vicchan tugs demandingly at the leash connected to his collar, urging Yuuri to release him so he can frolic in the nearby flowers. Yuuri sighs at the demanding pup, unclasping the leash and letting his dog run free through the grass.
He turns away, keeping one eye out for Vicchan, before settling on a small bench. He wipes away some sakura petals, and sits on the bench at the top of the hill. It overlooks the rest of Hasetsu, high above the small inner-pathways that converge together to make up the small seaside town.
It's early in the morning, earlier than Yuuri has been awake for a while now. As soon as his mother had seen him in the kitchen, he had been ushered out on a small errand. He'd delivered the fresh eggs from Sato-san's farm back home, before taking over from Mari at the chopping station. His mother didn't question his sudden proficiency with a knife, and instead went about preparing breakfast for the rest of the inn's inhabitants.
After a hearty meal of miso soup, Yuuri ushered Vicchan out of the inn for a small walk by the nearby hills of his house, needing to be alone to think without his parents fussing over him. As he looks over from the top, he lets the morning wind numb his cheeks.
The view is insane, sunlight blinding him and showering the town in a hue of gold. Hasetsu has always been beautiful, it's his home after all, but Yuuri can already feel the creeping sense of suffocation. The more he stays here, the more he feels like wasting away.
No one really understood this feeling, not Yuuko or Takeshi who were both content with setting roots in their hometown. The only person who surprisingly did was Mari, but talking to her about this left a bitter taste in Yuuri's mouth.
Mari had wanted to pursue university, to leave Hasetsu and make a name for herself. In the end, even if she and his parents denied it, Yuuri knew she stayed because of him.
The guilt never left him. It had sunk deep into his skin with every passing minute spent in Detroit, when he took the bus home from the rink, when he sat in classes, when he studied at the library. The shame he felt after years of failing to win a single competition whilst Mari had sacrificed her own chance ate him away.
Mari's grades weren't the best, but she had scored decently at the university admissions test, enough to move to a community college in Saga. It would've been expensive, but doable. But at the end of the day, it was only ever Yuuri who had the actual means to leave Hasetsu. Their parents weren't rich, and someone needed to stay behind to help with the inn.
So, he had let his shame dictate that life. Not once, in the five years he had lived in America, did he return home to visit Hsetsu. Flimsy excuses were the norm - he had deadlines, training was too time-consuming, anything to stop him from coming home empty-handed.
And what did that lead to? By the time he returned, it was already too late. Vicchan was dead and his career was a mess.
Mari's face forms in his mind, suddenly.
( " Just because I stayed home doesn't mean I'm not happy, Yuuri. I might not travel the world like you do, but there is a life to live in Hasetsu. It's not the one I imagined for myself, but it's the one I love." She flicks her cigarette but on to the ground, turning to grin at him.
"Besides, if you feel guilty, how about introducing me to one of those cute skaters. What about that German-" )
Yuuri smiles at the memory, remembering how he had screamed about Mari catching a case and that he wouldn't bail her out of jail. Minako had popped in suddenly, a bloodhound searching for the scent of a young man's suffering and had demanded Yuuri introduce her too. It was hard to believe the twenty year age gap between the two with how they each fawned over all of Yuuri's peers.
Yuuri's phone pings in his jacket pocket, bringing him out of his musings. It's a Line notification from Chris. After fretting about the international fees of texting, Yuuri was able to convince his friend to download the app so they could talk more freely, internet usage fees notwithstanding. Apparently, Chris had taken that as an invitation to bombard Yuuri with message after message, leading to deep midnight conversations stemming purely from twitter gossip and reddit threads.
This time, Chris sends a selfie of himself at his training rink in Lausanne. In it, he's exuding charm, left eye closed in an exaggerated wink.
Chris
For my beloved Vicchan, so he doesn't forget me.
Yuuri laughs, filming a quick video of Vicchan who was currently chasing a butterfly. Christophe responds immediately, sending an explosion of emojis and hearts.
Their sudden closeness was a new development, but one Yuuri is grateful for.
He had set up a steadily built rapport with Chris since his original call, a mix of easy texting and a huge abundance of pet pictures, especially one of Chris' newly adopted cat, Mon Petit Chou. ( "It's not actually his name. He's got a birthmark on his head that kind of looks like a cabbage, and the nickname kind of stuck.) Chris had sent over a picture of Chou, a beautiful tabby cat with grey streaks running through his fur, and Yuuri in response had introduced him to Vicchan.
That in itself meant that Yuuri had to reveal the mortifying reason behind Vicchan's name, and now, Yuuri and Chris were united in their love over the one and only, Viktor Nikiforov.
It was a breath of fresh air. Suddenly, Yuuri was able to express his love for Viktor to an equal participant. If he slips and calls him 'the-love-of-his-life', or 'my husband', well, Christophe would just double down and accept Yuuri as the crazy fan he was/is.
It was nice, he realised, to have someone remind him of the outside world. Yuuri could say without a doubt now that Christophe was one of his closest confidants. There was a goal now, and it was only a matter of time before he could start skating again.
First things first, he has to change his training schedule.
Nishigori's parents allowed him free reign over the ice rink as long as it didn't impeach on other people's bookings. Nishigori would usually email him over the timetable for the week every morning, and he would work around those slots. But with the work and school, there were less bookings at Ice Castle than ever, so Yuuri blessedly is left alone to practice.
Yuuri groans at the sudden realisation. Shit. School.
God, it's been six years since he's been in an academic setting. "Maybe this isn't a blessing, Vicchan." Yuuri scowls. "It's a curse."
School was a different type of hell created purely to tortue him. When he decided to take a break from skating, Yuuri had realised that he had no friends in his class at all. Nishigori had already graduated, Yuuko the year before.
Competitions were his only respite. There's no way in hell he was going to miss out on this season. Having to interact with new people? At least at competitions, he could stay by himself under the guise of being a competitive antisocial. But, trying to make friends with his classmates? No thanks. Yuuri could do without the mortification.
There's an added pressure now, he registers. Before, because of his lack of friends, Yuuri had spent his free time alone and studying. In the end, it worked well in his favour, earning him a scholarship to an American university near his rink. But now, things are different.
This time around, Yuuri would still be competing. So here comes the big question - how the fuck is he going to balance school and training?
It's times like this where Yuuri has to remind himself that he's not actually a teenager, but a twenty-nine year old man who has graduated with first class honours.
He's already suffered through university, a few months of high school would be nothing.
"It'll be fine." Yuuri clenches his fists, lips pursed in determination. "I can do it."