Yakov sighed and looked up from the phone on which the text message had just arrived. Out on the ice, Viktor was being, well, Viktor and instead of practicing his step sequence like he was supposed to, he was instead working on transitions to jumps. Jumps were not at all the weakest part of Viktor's programs, so there really was no reason for him to be spending his time right now, before competition season, working on them.

"Viktor! That does not look like your step sequence!"

The eighteen-year-old skated over, sliding sideways on his skates in a stop that sprayed ice out from under his skates, just barely missing Yakov. The old man sighed.

"But what I was working on was more fun. There's no surprise in step sequences."

Yakov crossed his arms over his chest. "You may have been the best in Juniors and you may have won Europeans, but you haven't yet brought me home a Senior Grand Prix or a Senior World's gold. You can worry about surprises when you can bring those back to Russia."

The reminder of his bronze medal finish at the just-finished Grand Prix caused Viktor to get that stubborn set to his jaw that Yakov just absolutely hated. There would be no reasoning with his skater now.

"I won gold at Nationals this year too." Stubborn and petulant.

Yakov hummed. "Yes, you did, though afterward you also said there was absolutely no competition. Georgi sulked for a week."

With a toss of his head, Viktor's long ponytail left his shoulder and floated down his back. "I didn't mean to hurt Georgi's feelings." He sighed. "I even told him he should spend another year in the Junior Division before he tried to move up, but he didn't want to listen to me."

Yakov nodded. They'd both tried to convince the younger skater that he should wait until he was seventeen like Viktor had, but in a surprising show of disobedience - which Georgi was usually not prone to - he'd insisted on moving up to the Senior Division.

"You'd have an easier time at the international level if you worked on your step sequences. Get them up from a level three to a level four."

Viktor just rolled his eyes at his coach as he leaned against the boards. "My step sequences are just as good as the competition's, even if they aren't level 4s."

"Fine." Yakov stepped away from the side of the rink. "If you don't want to practice, get off the ice."

Viktor's face fell. "Yakov!"

"I mean it, Viktor. If you're not going to do what I tell you to do, then get off the ice so I can work with the students that actually want me as their coach. I have a new one coming in today."

Viktor bit his lip. "You have a new student?" And Yakov knew what Viktor really wanted to know. Is he as good as I am?

"I do. Fourteen-year-old from Japan. Going into his first year at the Junior level internationally."

"Japanese? Does he like anime?"

Yakov sighed. "Off the ice."

As usual, however, Viktor didn't listen to him, and instead skated out to the middle of the rink before going into a runthrough of the short program he was skating this season. Even without the harder step sequences, Yakov knew that Viktor stood a good chance of getting gold at the Europeans again. Better now that the German skater that had injured himself during practice a few weeks ago wasn't able to return. And if rumor that the top two competitors - Tabito Uemura and Moon Ui Hwa - were considering retirement turned out to be correct then, yes, there would be less competition at Worlds. All of this was just conjecture, however, and he had other things to worry about - like the new student that his wife insisted he take on.

He watched Viktor skate for a while until he heard the click of heels in the hallway. He turned away from the ice to see Lilia walking next to a younger Japanese woman and a boy trailing behind them, a black skate bag on his back.

The boy's eyes were focused down at the ground. He didn't look like a skater; didn't even look like the skater his wife had shown him a video of, either.

"Yuuri," the Japanese woman said before continuing in brisk Japanese. Whatever she said had the boy looking up with excited eyes as he rushed over to the rink to stare at the skaters. Well, one skater. Viktor.

"He's a fan of Viktor. Has been since the World Juniors in Bulgaria." The woman's Russian was passable, if heavily accented. "Minako Okukawa." She held out her hand.

"Yakov Feltsman." He shook her hand. "Your name, it sounds familiar."

"She was the principal for a season after I left the Bolshoi," Lilia supplied. "Yuuri is her student."

"He has a ballerina for a skating coach?" Yakov sighed.

"No." The woman's laugh was bright. "I'm his ballet instructor. He shared a coach with two other students in our hometown, but they never got very strong results when they competed on the national level and decided to give it up, so the coach moved." She sounded angry, and Yakov couldn't blame her. For a coach to just up abandon a student who was performing well and could manage to compete at the international level… "So I called Lilia, since I knew that she'd married you and you are incredibly well-known in the figure skating world. I was just hoping that you'd have a recommendation for a coach. I never imagined that you'd offer to take on Yuuri."

Yakov nodded gruffly. "I saw potential. His step sequences are incredibly advanced for his level, and his spins are beautiful. I'm willing to give him a year here. Only then will I decide if I want to take him on permanently."

Minako smiled. "He won't disappoint you."

"If he does, I'll at least give you a name of another coach. I have very high expectations of my skaters."

Yuuri gripped the edge of the boards and stared at Viktor. He was absolutely amazing! He couldn't wait to tell Yuuko… He sighed. He'd have to text her, he guessed, since he wouldn't be seeing her at the Ice Castle anymore - instead of skating with Yuuko (and Nishigori) he'd been brought here to Russia. He was excited. He'd be training with Yakov Feltsman! The Yakov Feltsman, Viktor's coach - which means that he'd be training with Viktor. His face heated and he looked down at the toes of his sneakers. How was he supposed to even step foot on the same ice as Viktor?

"Do you like anime?"

Yuuri frowned. His vision started to swim and he could feel the tears prickling at the edges of eyes.

"Do you like anime?"

All he wanted was to be the best figure skater that he could be and show his idol that he was good, but he wasn't. Not really. Loads of skaters were better. Japan's ace was better than he was, even though they all said he was about to retire and then Japan wouldn't have an ace at all.

The harsh sigh broke through his sudden burst of melancholy and he looked up. Slowly Viktor's face swam into focus, his eyes bright, bright blue. The posters he had on his wall didn't do them justice at all! They were a clear ocean blue; not the hue of a stormy sea, but a calm one, when the sun was shining and there weren't any clouds.

"English?" Viktor was saying.

Yuuri started. "A… a… a little."

"Anime?"

Yuri frowned and shook his head. Why would Viktor ask him about anime? It didn't even make sense. "I skate."

He didn't expect the snort of laughter and was a little insulted. He could feel his bottom lip starting to quiver and he bit it hard.

"Oh, no! Wait! Sorry!" Viktor was stepping off the ice and shoving his skate guards on. Yuuri blinked quickly and scrubbed at his eyes with the heel of his palm. "No, please, I wasn't- Damn." Viktor tugged on his hair. "Damn. No. Sorry." He stopped talking.

Yuuri looked up at him with narrowed eyes.

"I just… of course you are a skater." Viktor poked at the shoulder strap to Yuuri's skate bag. "Why would you be here if you weren't? So I thought… It was funny."

Yuuri open and closed his fists before finally tugging them into the arms of his jacket and playing with the edge of the sleeve. He couldn't look Viktor in the face, so instead he looked at Viktor's neck and the jut of his collarbones. He bit his lip again.

"I like anime." Yuuri looked up and Viktor smiled. "I like anime, that's why I asked."

"Oh." The world was a very strange place. He was standing next to his idol, Viktor, even talking to him - well, Viktor was talking at him - at the very rink where Viktor trained. And instead of discussing how Viktor was one of the few skaters in the whole world that could currently land a quad Lutz, they were talking about anime. "I watch some."

" Naruto , Bleach or One Piece ?"

"Um. Fullmetal Alchemist." Yuuri twisted the edge of his sleeve tighter in his fingers.

"Oh! I don't know that one." Viktor smiled and leaned on the wall of the rink. "Is it good?"

Yuuri nodded slowly. "But I don't have time. Really."

Viktor sighed. "Because you skate. Me too." He stretched his arms over his head. "But sometimes I just need to take my mind off of things."

Yuuri scrunched his forehead, trying to make out what Viktor could mean by that. His English wasn't bad, but it wasn't good either. He sighed. "I'm sorry."

Viktor waved a hand dismissively, his eyes focused on something behind Yuuri. "I think Yakov wants you. It's better to not keep him waiting." Viktor laid his hand on top of Yuuri's head for a second and then ruffled his hair. "Go on." And without another word, Viktor had taken his guards back off and was skating away on the ice.

"Yuuri!" Minako's voice called him and Yuuri started to back away, not wanting to take his eyes off the other skater. Viktor had started a spin on the ice, his ponytail flying behind him. Yuuri took a deep breath and sighed as he turned away, heading over to his ballet instructor and new coach.

By necessity, Yuuri ended up keeping very odd hours. His alarm clock went off around three in the morning six days a week, and by four he was getting onto Skype to be tutored in his classes - and how weird was it that he could talk to a teacher over video chat, something that wouldn"t have even been possible just two years ago?That usually lasted for three hours or so, off and on. By then it was seven and "lunchtime". Minako usually made them something high in protein with lots and lots of green vegetables and very little taste.

He missed his mother's katsudon.

Then he would do some of his homework for an hour, and then it was ballet. Minako had bought a barre and set it up in the living room. In fact, the living room had basically just been converted to a ballet studio. There was one at the rink that they could use, but Yuuri kept getting so anxious when his rinkmates crowded in the doorway that he could never focus and inevitably he'd fall right out of his fouette turns before he'd even reached ten. So home had become his ballet studio with Minako supervising.

After ballet was break and then they'd head to the rink where Yuuri would meet with Yakov. His favourite days, if he was to be honest, were the ones where Yakov was too busy yelling at the other skaters to really pay much attention to him. Yakov's method of coaching was loud and brusque and Yuuri hated it, but he was never going to tell anyone because he was being coached by Viktor Nikiforov's coach and that was… That was the best thing in the world.

Even if he hated it.

So the days that Yuuri was mostly left to himself because of someone else getting yelled at were definitely the best days. More often than not it was Viktor who was on the receiving end of Yakov's displeasure, which Yuuri found surprising. Viktor in real life was nothing like the Viktor in his magazines or on the television. Viktor in real life was… well, he was goofy. Silly. A joker. Always ready with a laugh.

It made Yuuri nervous.

Everything about St. Petersburg made him nervous and anxious, apparently.

It was an especially bad day. He hadn't done well on a math exam and was having trouble with his English and Russian lessons. Everytime he tried to say something in either language to Minako all morning, he just ended up making a hash of it and had to explain himself in Japanese when she obviously couldn't figure out what he was saying. He was homesick, and every time he heard a gull cry, he felt like he wanted to cry himself.

On top of that, there was an invitational coming up - one that was important if he wanted to get a spot in the Junior Grand Prix when the next season started after the summer. Not to mention the World Juniors in a little over a month. It wasn't the first time that Yuuri thought that the gold medal he'd ended up with at the Junior Nationals had to have been a mistake.

He put his earbuds in and started stretching, ignoring everything around him. The music was his ballet and contemporary dance playlist, so there might have been a bit heavier emphasis on melancholy than was good for him, but he didn't care. He could lose himself in the music and that was exactly what he planned to do.

Stretching complete, he laced his skates and stepped out onto the ice just as the strains to a new song started. Taking his time, he drew shapes and figures into the ice with his blades before turning and going into a slow-moving step sequence, just skating anything that came into his mind. He sped up and did one of his strongest jumps, a double axel, then slid into another step sequence and moved into a layback spin, bringing his skate up to the back of his head before transitioning into a Biellmann spin.

As he came out of the spin he stopped for a moment before pushing off again into yet another step sequence, this one faster and harder than what was even in his program. It was the step sequence that he'd worked on with Yuuko, the one from her senior program - the hardest part of her program, she had told him. He felt guilty that he'd always taken a joy in this particular sequence of steps and found it freeing. He ended with some hydroblading, his fingers brushing along the ice as he went in a circle.

Yuuri sighed as he got upright and skated to a stop. He really needed to start work; he couldn't afford to goof off all day. He had to make sure that his triple loop was solid; he was still a little shaky on the landing, and it was a required element for his short program. He hated that jumps were always so hard. Maybe he should have found a partner and gone into ice dancing instead. He shook himself and the thought away. When he did manage to land a jump solidly, it was the best feeling in the world.

He dug into his pocket and pulled out his gloves, tugging them on as he skated around the rink, stretching his legs some more. If he was going to slam into the ice, he wanted to be prepared.

"дерьмо."

Viktor turned to look at Katerina, who stood next to him at the boards watching Yuuri skate.

"What?"

"Not even I can transition that good from a layback to a Biellmann. How does he do that?" Katerina had her chin resting in her hand as she watched.

Viktor shrugged. "He's younger than you?"

She rolled her eyes. "If you're insinuating that he can do that because he's more flexible, Vitya, you're an idiot. I know the kid is flexible, you only need to watch him stretch to learn that. No, I'm talking technique. There's no pause, no jerk, it all just flows from one pose to the next and his spin speed is perfectly regular unless he wants it to speed up or slow down. It's flawless."

"But his jumps are shit." Viktor watched the step sequence with a critical eye. That was definitely a high level three, if not a level four step sequence. Why was a first year junior doing it? It was certainly harder than his own step sequence. He gritted his teeth. Viktor hated it when Yakov had a point, he really did.

"He's younger than you." Katerina chuckled when he shot her a disgusted look. "He's going to be challenging you eventually, Vitya. You'd better be prepared."

Viktor flinched when Yuuri hit the ice and skidded across it for a couple feet after botching the landing on his triple loop. "Not if he can't even master that jump."

"Oh, how's your flip coming along?"

He turned away from the ice and sighed. Everyone at the rink knew that he was trying to nail a quadruple flip, but hadn't managed it yet. Once he did, though, there would be no stopping him. Not only would he be the only one who could skate it, no one else would dare try. Not for a while, anyway. "It's great. I land it cleanly all the time now."

Her laugh was loud and derisive. "Really? I heard you landed on your face last night."

Viktor narrowed his eyes. "Aren't you ready to retire or something? Isn't it almost Mila's turn to skate?"

Katerina's hand landed on his shoulder. "Sorry. I just find your overblown self-confidence amusing. But no, I still have a few more years left in me before I call it quits. I'm only twenty-two and my half-sister isn't even ready for Juniors yet. She's still training with the Novices."

"Viktor! Katerina! Why are the two of you not on the ice warming up?!"

It was Viktor's turn to swear as he shucked off his blade guards and stepped onto the ice. It was too early in the day for this shit.

He couldn't breathe. He definitely couldn't breathe. Air was moving in and out of his mouth, down his trachea, along his brachioli and filling the aveoli, but still, he couldn't breathe. He swallowed, his vision swimming, blurring, the edges getting black and dark. This was so not good.

Then there was a sharp clap on his back and he looked up, everything snapping into focus - or mostly into focus. Yakov already had his glasses tucked into his jacket pocket.

"Don't let it get to you, Yuuri. You know how to skate the program. This isn't even a major event."

He nodded, but he still felt like the world was tipping at a precarious angle and that he was ready to fall off the face of the Earth, literally, at any second. Everyone was counting on him putting in a good showing. He needed to do well here and at World Juniors to earn a spot in the Junior Grand Prix. He needed to do well there to cement his future as a figure skater. A couple years in Juniors and then he'd move to Senior division, and then he'd be skating against Viktor.

Skating against Viktor.

Viktor, who had nailed a quadruple flip in the last practice before they all left for this event.

How could he ever think that he would ever be able to compete against Viktor?

He shook his head, scattering the thoughts, but their effects on his nerves lingered. His fingers stretched against his palm, trying to reach the edge of his sleeve so that he could tug on it, feel the fabric against the pads of his fingers, but he couldn't. So he flicked his fingers against his thumb. Once. Twice. Three times. Four.

Another solid thump on his back and he let his arms fall to his side. "I'm fine, Coach Yakov." His Russian was still shaky, but he was trying.

"Just go out there and skate your heart out."

And he did. Skate his heart out. It ended up shattered and spread out across the ice like a glass figure that had fallen from the top shelf and hit a marble floor. Shards of what should have been a flawless performance were scattered from one side of the rink to the other. He'd fallen on two out of his three jumps; his step sequences and spins were still good, but he was rattled and knew that they weren't as good as they should have been. He was disappointed.

Yakov was disappointed, too. He could see it in the sharp downturn of his coach's mouth as Yuuri made his way to the kiss and cry. He hung his head, buried his face in his hands.

"Stop it, Yuuri. You have to look up. You're a skater."

He dropped his hands, did as his coach told him to and tilted his head up. He was glad that he couldn't see very well without his glasses. It was bad enough that he could feel the disappointment from everyone. Even if they didn't even know who he was, he knew that everyone was disappointed.

And his score, well, his score didn't even bear thinking about.

Yakov's hand settled on his shoulder. "You have the free skate tomorrow. You'll make it up then. Your free skate is stronger than your short program, after all."

Yuuri pushed his face into the pillow and whimpered. He couldn't sleep. He couldn't put on music to dance. He couldn't skate. And he was a nervous, anxious wreck. He was failing right and left.

He rolled over and looked at the ceiling above him. It was that unfamiliar sort of familiar that all hotel rooms shared. He let his head fall to the side to look at the clock. It wasn't quite midnight. He'd fallen asleep and skipped the men's senior short program. He felt kinda bad about it. He had really wanted to watch Viktor skate and would have had really good seats in the stands, too.

As in all things in his life, he was a failure. He was even a failure at being Viktor's fan and a failure at being a good rinkmate. He sighed and pulled the blanket up over his head, breathing against the fabric.

A knock had him folding the blanket down and staring at the door, confused. The second knock had him swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and staring at the door some more. The third knock had him running for the door, especially once it was accompanied by Viktor's voice asking him to open up. He did, flinging the door wide. Viktor was standing on the other side wrapped in a coat and scarf and hat, his silver hair braided and falling over his shoulder, his skate bag on his back and a paper bag gripped in one gloved hand.

"Come on."

Yuuri blinked at him and Viktor shook his head and walked into the room.

"If you don't hurry, the food will get cold and I'm not going to give it to you until you're dressed and have grabbed your skate bag. Street food needs to be eaten outside."

Yuuri swallowed and grabbed his clothes before darting into the bathroom to get dressed. He didn't know what was going on, and the month or so he'd spent as Viktor's rinkmate didn't give him any clues either. His idol was sort of strange. Some days he'd be incredibly aloof. Others moody. Occasionally, he'd be clingy. He was never not nice. Brusque and insensitive sometimes, but never not nice.

Yuuri smoothed his hair down in the mirror and checked that his clothes matched before leaving the bathroom. Viktor was sitting on the edge of one of the beds, flipping through a textbook that Yuuri had brought with him. It was probably History, but Yuuri couldn't even remember, and it wasn't like Viktor could read it anyway.

Viktor looked up. "Good, you're dressed. Grab your skate bag and let's go!"

Without thinking, Yuuri did as he was told, following Viktor out of his room and down the hall to the elevator, then right out of the hotel. It was only after they'd walked a block that Yuuri realised he was being an idiot. Viktor or no Viktor, he shouldn't just leave the hotel without telling his coach! He skidded to a stop on the sidewalk.

"Viktor?"

Viktor turned and smiled at him. "Oh, yes, food!" He pulled a filled bun of some sort out of the bag and handed it to Yuuri. His mouth immediately started to water and his stomach growled. "You skipped dinner. Yakov said you were sleeping."

He nodded, his mouth already full of the first bite and they continued walking. "This is good."

Viktor laughed, light and bright. "I'm glad. I didn't know how they'd be, but they smelled good, so I thought they'd do. We're almost there."

"Almost where?" His voice was muffled around the bite of bun in his mouth.

"The rink! I felt like skating and I know that you always feel like skating, so I thought we could go together."

Yuuri's brow furrowed. "But how-"

Viktor lifted a finger to his lips. "It's a secret."

Yuuri just shook his head and followed. If Viktor could really get him time on the ice he'd probably fall in love with him or something. The idea made his face heat up, so he stuffed more of the bread into his mouth. It really was good.

True to his word, Viktor got them into the building, past the guards and onto the rink. He didn't think that Viktor would manage it with a piece of folded paper that he'd shoved into the latch of the athlete's entrance on his way out, but there, stretching out before them, was the ice.

He didn't even wait a minute. He fell to the ground and started tugging his skates on, glad that he'd pulled on a track suit and not something like jeans. He probably looked like an idiot because he was hurrying so much, but when he looked up, Viktor was on the floor right next to him, tugging his laces tight. Yuuri laughed.

They helped each other up and then stepped out on the ice; Viktor first, since he'd figured out how to get them into the rink, and then Yuuri. He didn't have his music, but he found that he didn't need it. It wasn't like when he was training at the rink in St. Petersburg. Viktor wasn't loud if there weren't a lot of other skaters around. In fact, even in St. Petersburg, if Viktor was seriously skating, he was always quiet, like it was just him and the ice and they were communicating. Yuuri definitely understood that feeling.

He glided across the ice. Then he danced across the ice. And with each slide of his blades across the slick surface, he could feel the tension and anxiety drain out of him - off his shoulders and down his back, down his legs and out of his skates, skittering across the white surface. He broke into a spin, a quiet laugh bubbling up before he went back to moving, slowly and thoughtfully, across the ice.

He didn't know how long he skated, but eventually he tore his eyes away from his blades and the ice and looked for Viktor. He wasn't that far away. What surprised him was how focused Viktor was on him . His bright blue eyes were glued to him, watching.

"Um…" He flushed. Viktor's gaze was so intense that he had to look away, but he could still see him from the corner of his eye and didn't miss it when Viktor smiled.

"You're at home on the ice."

Yuuri nodded. "Or in a ballet studio, but there isn't enough room in the hotel to do proper ballet exercises." He started to do the step sequence from Yuuko's program again. The faster movements kept up with the jumping of his heart. He was skating with Viktor! Not training, just skating! It was almost like they were friends…

He nearly stumbled, but caught himself.

"What did you just think of?"

Yuuri looked up. "Huh?"

"I've seen you run that step sequence more times than I can count and you've never stumbled, even though it's incredibly hard. So what did you just think of?"

He could feel his whole body get hot and knew that he had to be red from head to toe. "Uh. That… um… that this is like skating with a friend."

Viktor's smile was blindingly bright and Yuuri pushed backwards a little before spinning around to a stop.

"I like the sound of that. Friends. Yes. That's exactly what this is, Yuuri! Skating with a friend."

"But… um… I'm…"

In two strong glides Viktor was next to him, grabbing Yuuri's hands and dragging him across the ice. "You're not having enough fun!"

Yuuri gasped, letting himself be pulled along. Suddenly, Viktor let go and he was speeding along the ice. Yuuri caught himself into another spin and let the momentum carry him, changing positions once and then again. He laughed as he came out of the spin and chased Viktor across the ice.

Viktor was laughing, too.

This was nice. This was better than nice. This was the most fun Yuuri had had on the ice since he'd left Hasetsu for Russia.

They skated for a while longer. Viktor talking first nonstop about anything and everything, then eventually coaxing Yuuri into telling him about the one anime he knew anything about. Viktor swore up and down that he was going to find it and then they'd watch it, even if he had to make Yuuri do on-the-spot translating into English. Yuuri stammered that there was no way he could possibly, that he just wasn't good enough, but Viktor was laughing and speeding up and Yuuri just found himself caught up in his joy of the ice.

He managed to land the triple loop he'd fallen on during his short twice without realising it.

"VIKTOR!"

They both skidded to a halt. Yakov was standing at the entrance to the rink.

"Uh, oh." Viktor glanced at him. "I think we're in trouble."

Yuuri bit his lip, but then he grinned. "I think you're right."

They had gotten in trouble. Quite a lot of trouble, but apparently Yakov knew whose crazy idea it all was, so really Viktor had gotten into twice as much trouble as he had. But Viktor didn't seem to care, the angry voice of their coach just rolling off his back like it was nothing.

When Yuuri's free skate came, the nerves came back, and the rink was swimming in and out of focus again. The terror was rising up, sitting heavy in his throat, but when he caught sight of the ice, the same ice that Viktor and he had snuck time on two nights before, Yuuri found his anxiety lessening and becoming manageable. He nodded to himself and stepped onto the ice, skating a couple of laps before taking his place in the middle of the rink.

When his scores came in he was no longer in fifth place (out of twelve), he was in first, and when the last skater came off the ice and received their score, Yuuri, while not at the top, was just one step below. He'd managed to snag a silver at his first international event. Yakov patted him on the shoulder and told him "good job" in Russian.