CHAPTER TEN

-Meeting with the RSF! Is it supposed to be terrifying or is it just Russia!?-

It only took a few days before the Russian branch of the ISU had gotten itself together for the press conference that Yurio had been denied. Cameras clicked with a fever pitch as reporters from across the country clamored for a good spot at the front of the conference hall, while others stacked along the walls on either side of the room.

At the table on the raised platform in front of them all, Yakov was seated at the far end dressed in his usual coach fare, with Lilia next to him, Yurio next to her wearing his Team Russia jacket and black hoodie, Victor after that in up-class casual-wear like from Barcelona, then Mila in business-casual, and finally Georgi, looking more formal like his coach...the entire St. Petersburg Skate Club.

Yuri watched quietly from the audience, a surgical mask over his face, wearing the most boring and normal clothing he could find, keeping all of it unrelated to skating or the JSF. The conference, however, was spoken in Russian, so the whole thing was beyond him. He only knew a smattering of basic Russian, and nothing short of subtitles on his eyeballs would help him understand it any better. The energy in the room was all he could read, and he guessed well enough that Victor had just confirmed his return to competitive skating when everyone started cheering.

Yurio bristled where he sat, but didn't dare have an outburst in front of so many cameras. He eventually had his turn anyway, and Yuri could see the teen calm down significantly as he received the attention he deserved.

They're probably asking him how he feels about competing against Victor, Yuri thought to himself, able to pick out the word 'Worlds' from the Russian dialogue. One of the reporters asked about 'European Championships' but the team shook their collective heads, likely mentioning the same rationale as had been given when Victor himself been asked the question at the GP Final Banquet.

"Hey...are you not Katsuki Yuri...?" Someone to the Japanese skater's right suddenly asked. He glanced up from his phone and turned to look at the source of the voice, pull his mask off his nose to hook it under his chin, and saw a complete stranger there; some reporter. The man's broken English was rough, but Yuri could understand it.

"Ah...yes, I am."

"Why not at table with others?"

He was taken aback, unsure if his answer would be understood, so he spoke simply and pointed at himself, "Not Russian."

"However, Mr. Nikiforov is coach of yours, yes?"

"...Yes, but..."

"Èj vse! Katsuki Yuri Katsuki zdes'!" (Hey everyone! Yuri Katsuki is here!) The reporter called out, yelling above the clamor to get the crowd's attention.

Yuri flew out of his seat, ready to cling to the ceiling if it was the only way out, as all eyes suddenly turned from the Russian team to him. He staggered into the walking-space between his chair and the reporters that were huddled against the wall nearby. If looks could kill, Yurio would've been a mass-murderer by that point, staring death at everyone who dared turn their attention away from the main table to stare at the hopeless JSF skater instead. The crowd was unsure how to proceed after that, speaking amongst themselves as more photos were taken to prove that Yuri was there as claimed. Yuri simply balked, groping for space, and looked past a few people to Victor, silently begging for salvation.

The Russian team-members were whispering amongst themselves; Yakov seemed slightly annoyed, but Victor nodded in apparent agreement and waved for Yuri to join them at the table. The foreign skater rushed through the crowd for safer territory, wanting nothing less than to put Victor between himself and the ravenous mob. He didn't make it gracefully though, as Yurio stuck his leg out and tripped him just as he was passing behind their chairs, causing him to land face-first behind his coach's seat. Victor looked back to see if he was okay, but it didn't do any good; the Russian Tiger had already turned on his chair to put his boot on Yuri's backside where it stuck up in the air.

"Idiot, this isn't for JSF skaters! This is the RSF!"

"Yuratchka, leave him be." Yakov snapped firmly, "We should never have left him in the audience in the first place."

"But-"

"Leave. Him. Be. We all know you won the Gold Medal and him Silver. You don't have to keep proving it. He's Victor's student though, so that makes him part of us, even if unofficially."

As the coach reigned in his rising star, Mila busied herself with getting another chair pulled up to the table. Victor rose to get behind his own chair, and helped his fiancé to stand up again just as he spotted the redhead bringing a new seat closer. He reached across the table to take it from her, set it between their existing seats, and positioned Yuri to sit in it. Yuri just sat low and awkwardly, wanting to be as small as possible. However, the smaller he tried to appear, the more he stuck out, and Victor could tell. The silver legend put a hand on the small of his partner's back to force him to sit upright, and then shoved the chair in closer so he couldn't slouch again.

"Don't try to be so inconspicuous." The Russian said in a whisper, head lowered so he could be heard.

"But I don't even speak Russian...I have no idea what's going on..."

"Victor," One of the reporters down front started, in fairly good English. She was a woman with straight-cut black hair and bowl-cut bangs, "Since we're on the topic now, it seems...is it because of Yuri Katsuki that you skipped Russian Nationals and lost your shot at Euros?"

Yuri could've died and rolled under the table - if he were allowed to - and banged his face against the top of it instead, hands clasped pitifully over his head. He groaned quietly for the shame of it before his hands slid off the table-cloth and went limp at his sides, like chains that had just been cut loose from their ship, with anchors dragging the remaining lengths off-deck and into the depths of the ocean, never to be seen again.

Victor just glanced between him and the RSF reporter, "Actually, it's because of Yuri that I'm hopefully going to Worlds. I hadn't planned on being at Nationals or Euros to begin with." He explained simply, and moved his arm up from where he'd been rubbing his partner's shoulders to rest it over the backrest of the chair instead. Yuri lifted his head as he felt it, and rubbed the sore spot on his forehead as his partner's voice continued, "Georgi will be representing the RSF at Euros alongside Yuri Plisetsky. They're both perfectly capable of bringing medals back. They wouldn't be training under Yakov if they weren't good. He hand-selected every one of us and he's never been wrong about the quality of his team. We consistently rise up to represent Russia on the world stage, in spite of dozens of other reputable Skate Clubs across the country all trying to be the best as well."

"We've heard it said that you had meant to go to Nationals." The woman went on, "There's footage from an interview at the Final, where your voice is caught in the background stating, and I quote, 'For now, I'll time my come-back with Russian Nationals.' Isn't that right?"

"I'm glad you included the part where I said 'for now,' because things changed before the end of the weekend. I had obligations that I couldn't bail on."

"You mean Japanese Nationals."

"Da. I couldn't send Yuri on by himself. As his coach, I'm responsible to and for him."

"Even he hadn't planned on going to the All Japan Championship until after the Final was over. Everything you both did was last-second."

"Sure." Victor had no problem admitting it, and nodded as well, "I originally told Yuri I'd make him win the Grand Prix Final, not the World Championship. Our plans were that I'd coach him through the Final. We thought we'd both be done with skating after that, but we both managed to convince each other to keep competing." He shrugged, "If Yurio hadn't decided to make his Senior debut this year, I'd be going to Euros as well as Worlds, in spite of missing Nationals. But, it is what it is."

The blonde seethed from where he sat next to the silver skater, [You can't blame me for your stupid choices!] He barked in Russian, [I more-than-earned my spot on the Russian team at Euros! If you'd come to Nationals like you were supposed to, this wouldn't even be an issue! You'd already been putting together programs for this year before you were in Hasetsu last year. You have no excuse for bailing.]

Yuri bunched his hands together in his lap, looking even more nervous as the argument went on. He's talking in Russian so I don't know what he's saying, He thought anxiously. He's not even doing it because we're in Russia...he's doing it because he wants me to feel like an outsider... As if he even needed to do anything for me to feel that way...

"Yeah, and I gave one of those programs to you." Victor retorted, specifically doing so in English, "I spent a week finishing the choreography so you'd have a winning Senior debut, and you won Gold with it. I'll need a little more time to create something new from scratch, as well as get my gear together for it, practice and fine-tune it, and all the rest."

[I put together my Exhibition for the Final in a single night; costume, choreography and all. What's your excuse?]

"Perfection takes more than a night." Victor retorted with a smile, setting the younger one's teeth on edge again

Yuri listened to the back and forth, trying to piece together what he could from just his partner's responses. The reporters ahead of him were doing much the same, though it was likely that most of them were trying to do so from Yurio's statements rather than Victor's. It gave Yuri's anxiety something the cling to, and he brought his hands up onto the table-top to lean against them and take the weight off his back.

[My Exhibition was perfect!] The Russian Punk argued loudly, getting up from his seat and ignorws petitions from Lilia to sit down again, [I'm not the sad pig who had to had to skate a redemption performance!]

Victor had reached across the table with his left hand for one of the many water bottles as he tacitly listened to the whines of a jealous teenager, but conspicuously set it down again just in front of his student's right hand when he was done with it, not having even taken a drink from it, "What are you really mad about? You were clapping for him just like the rest at the end."

Green eyes went wide, but then narrowed again. He opened his mouth to speak, only for Yakov to cut him off.

[Yuratchka is just eager to compete against Victor.] The coach explained, whether or not it was true, and gave time for Lilia to wrangle the teen back into his seat, [They were rink-mates for a long time before Victor took time off. It just happened to be at the same time Yuri joined the Senior division. The delay in Victor's return to competition is unfortunate. We were all hoping to see them compete against each other in real time, not retroactively.]

[Victor, were you really considering joining the JSF?] A different reporter asked, catching the skater's attention.

[I never considered it at all.] He answered, turning his eyes away from the blonde next to him, [I skated their Exhibition as a guest. It was unplanned, and they basically offered it to me as a thank you for getting one of their own to the podium. It wouldn't have even happened if I hadn't accidentally left my costume at the rink in Hasetsu; it would've been packed with the rest of my stuff otherwise.]

Yuri could sense the shift in the direction of the inquiry, but it didn't make him feel any better. The whole thing felt more like an interrogation than a conference, and it made his throat dry. He pulled up the same water bottle that Victor had set in front of his hand a moment before and took a sip, but held onto the plastic after that, fingers curled around is anxiously.

[How can you possibly return to skating with the RSF though if you're coaching someone from another team?] Someone said pointedly, [Isn't that a conflict of interest?]

Victor tilted his head and smiled like he always did, [I don't feel that way.] He reached his left hand for a white RSF coffee-mug after that, took a sip of it...and again, set the cup directly in front of Yuri's right hand, [Until I took time off, I was Russia's reigning Champion. I expect to continue that trend even as a returning competitor, despite staying on as Yuri's coach at the same time. I've been teaching him everything I know, so to me, it means there'll be two skaters in the field who want to surprise and impress the audience. The better Yuri gets, the more I'll push myself in turn. I want to win Gold as badly as he does. I'm not just going to let him have it because I want him to win, too...he still has to work for it, just like everyone else. It'll be my pride as a competitor to win Gold for Russia, but it'll be my pride as a coach if Yuri wins Gold for Japan instead.]

[Don't you feel any shame for taking on a foreign athlete when your own team could use your experience?] Someone else asked, [Your talents would've been better served by coaching another Russian athlete, not a Japanese one. Now he poses the risk of taking medals for his own team.]

[Shame?] The skater echoed stiffly, [Why would I be ashamed? I choreographed Yurio's Short Program and he took Gold with it. His record-breaking SP score is the only reason he won, and for those who watched 'Hot-Springs on Ice,' you'll note that the program changed very little between leaving my sights and being performed in Barcelona. It was created for the target athlete's upper limit of skill and it served him well.]

Lilia bristled and gave a dirty look. Yurio did the same, but for entirely different reasons.

Victor continued, ignorant to their reactions, [Yuri had scored over 100 at both the Cup of China and Rostelecom. The fact that he didn't break the triple digit barrier again at the Final was ridiculous, especially since he did the quad Flip at the end.] He explained, almost angrily, but tried to keep a level head about it, [But the point is, coaching Yuri doesn't mean I won't be available to my own countrymen. Being back at my home rink will make me more accessible than ever. I don't think there will be any problems. I'm actually hoping that both Yuris will use the opportunity to push each other, so maybe Yurio can score even higher in his Free Skate and try to take that record, too. I'm sure the RSF will be very happy about having a 15-year-old who can score as well as I do at the end of my career. He's an exceptionally talented athlete, and I have no doubt that he'll be breaking records and setting trends long after both Yuri and I retire for good. Maybe he'll even let me choreograph something else for him in the future.]

[And the fact that you're engaged to marry your own student won't be a problem, either?] Another different reporter suddenly asked, causing the room to quiet down a little bit, [Many may question whether your presence at the St. Petersburg Skate Club might undermine the ability for the rest of your team to focus.] The figure went on, staring straight at Victor, [How can you even maintain credibility when you're going to marry a man? You can try to hide his ring with cups and water bottles all you want, but we all knew about it long before either of you ever sat at that table. You made all that exceptionally clear when you knocked him over in China, and kissed him for all the world to see.]

Yuri felt the energy change around him again, and he looked to see Victor's expression change again along with it, but only subtly. There was a rage in his eyes, but only the slightest furrow of silver brows gave the man away.

[You've embarrassed the Russian team, and Russia itself.]

[That's uncalled for.] Yakov finally interrupted; he stood from his seat and pointed at the figure, [We should be celebrating Victor's return to the ice, not lambasting him for things that have nothing to do with it.]

[President Putin signed an order banning the propaganda of nontraditional relationships ahead of the Sochi Olympics. It's not uncalled for to question the mental stability of an athlete who claims to represent Russia, while at the same time flouting this nation's values.]

Voices and murmurs echoed throughout the room, and the energy was becoming oppressive. Victor was briefly speechless by the whole thing, but then he narrowed his eyes, [Fine. If that's how you feel, then I'll quit the RSF and join Yuri in the JSF, and we'll take all the Gold Medals for Japan instead.]

[DON'T YOU EVEN SUGGEST IT.] Yakov barked.

Yuri nearly jumped out of his seat to see things devolving so quickly; people started to shout questions from the floor even as athletes and coaches were arguing at one another at the table. Instead, all he could do was watch as it all turned dark; a pair of unexpected hands had gone over his glasses, pulling him back and away from his partner.

"Try not to react." A woman's voice said, "They get like this sometimes."

"M-Mila-san..."

[WILL EVERYONE JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP ALREADY?] Yurio finally interrupted, catching all of their attention. He turned those piercing green eyes on the reporter who had instigated it all, [How dare you question the skill of one of Russia's top skating talent. Can you skate his programs better than he can with just the power of your raging heterosexuality?]

Mila lowered her hands from Yuri's eyes, and he looked up to see where Victor and Yakov both were staring at the teen in shock. He turned his head slightly towards the woman still holding him back, though he kept his eyes forward, "What's going on?" He whispered.

"...I'm not sure yet...the reporter asked some really rude questions."

[IDIOTS. This is figure skating.] Yurio barked on, [We dance on ice and wear flashy costumes! The only thing more gay than that is grappling in MMA, and I don't see anyone complaining about how homo that is even when one guy's got his nutsack in some other guy's face, or even worse, if they're grappling balls to balls. It's absurd that any of you are wasting your time on this. Victor brought home five consecutive Gold Medals from the Grand Prix, Russian Nationals, Euros, and WORLDS, and the thing you're worried about is how he gets his rocks off when he's off the ice? How about worrying that he might tear a meniscus or rupture a disc or something? You know...REAL THREATS.] The blonde was standing with one foot up on the table by then, the other on his chair, both hands stuffed in the pockets of his track-suit coat, [You should be on your knees thanking him for coming back! We have TWO CHAMPIONS in Russia now! But go ahead and be stupid! Make Victor want to leave again! I don't think Japan will care if they suddenly have two Champions on the roster! They sure didn't care when Katsudon declared his super-gay love for Victor on national television a few months back!]

The room was silent after that, and Yuri could see that his coach was a bit slack-jawed at the outburst.

Yurio stepped on top of the table and then kicked off, landing in front of it. He shot a glare back at his team, then at the lone Asian in their ranks, "Let's go. The conference is over. ...What a clusterfuck."

Victor was quick to stand after that, and pulled his partner with him, grabbing his coat from the back of his chair as the rest of the team disembarked from the table. Slate eyes caught sight of the Russian Tiger making a threatening gesture at the offending reporter while they passed, lunging unexpectedly just to make the man jump. The silver skater just pulled his fiancé to his opposite side, putting himself between the media and his heart.

"What just happened? What was that all about?" Yuri asked desperately, "Why did Yurio get so angry all of a sudden?"

The Russian's terse expression gradually softened as the whole thing sank in, and they'd escaped the clamor of media mob into an adjacent hallway. Yakov and Lilia had both started lecturing Yurio about his outburst, but he just looked annoyed and ignored them.

"He stood up for us...sort of." Victor explained quietly.

"Stood up for us...?" Yuri echoed in confusion, "From what? Why did that whole thing turn into a yelling match?" He pleaded, but got no answer, which made the pit in his stomach sink lower than he thought possible. He looked down and away, and clutched at his ring-hand nervously, "...I told you I should've stayed home. This is all my fault."

"But I wanted you to come." Victor retorted quietly, looking up towards Yakov, and watched briefly as Yurio rolled his eyes from the continued double-sided lecture.

Yuri's eyes stayed down, and he closed them soon after with a sad huff of frustration, "And I wanted you to come to the JSF conference when they made me do my theme announcement, too, but you wouldn't. All you did was complain about my tie when I got back."

"I didn't want to take attention off of you again like I did at your Regional competition." Victor explained desperately, drawing in a sharp breath as he slid his arms into his long-coat

"Like I just did to you?"

Yakov stepped closer after that, and looked up at his reinstated student, "Don't think too much into what they said, Vitya." He advised, "It's not worth it. Just prove them all idiots by taking Gold at Worlds again...it'll be your 6th year running, so they can't complain."

"If they even let me go at this point."

"You're going." The coach said stiffly, "So plan accordingly. They might not give you the same kind of press coverage as they used to but they can't ban you from going. You're the only reason we have more than one spot at Worlds this season."

"Yeah..."

Yuri's brow furrowed to hear it, and looked between the two coaches anxiously.

"Let's just get the Hell out of here already." The Russian Punk said suddenly, "We all have better shit to do than get our pants in a twist over one guy. I have to go buy food for Potya." He turned on his heel and gestured down the hall with a nudge of his head, "Well?"

"Yurio..." Yuri said quietly, eyes looking over at him. Before much else could be said or done, he had latched both arms around the teen from behind.

Yurio was dead silent for a moment, but then shrieked, "I DIDN'T GIVE YOU PERMISSION TO-"

"Spasibo."

The pair were quiet, but the blonde continued to glare over his shoulder; past the rim of his black hoodie, Yurio could barely see the offending athlete anyway, but he knew what the sight looked like anyway, and grit his teeth bitterly.

"I know it was hard on you for Victor to leave Russia so suddenly last year. You came all the way to Hasetsu to make him come back home, only to leave again empty handed anyway." Yuri stated solemnly, and let the Russian Tiger go free again so as to look at him straight on, "You had years of expectation that you'd get to compete against him when you finally entered the Senior bracket, and I inadvertently took that away from you by getting Victor to be my coach the very year you got there. It wasn't intentional, but I am sorry for it."

"Forget it." Yurio said curtly, "I don't need to compete against him directly to score better than him. I'll surpass all his records before long. I already told him that it didn't matter if he was around."

"I know." Yuri answered, "But in a way, it does. Your relationship with Victor was different from mine because you both skated for the same team, and all I did was admire him from a distance. But I can tell that he's important to you in some way, and I know that the fact that he brought me back to St. Petersburg with him has rubbed you the wrong way. I...I don't want to come between you guys. My worst fear is that being here will hurt Victor's skating...and by the sound of that conference, I have even more to worry about now." He explained nervously, but then bowed his head a little, "My...my mom taught him how to make katsudon before we came to St. Petersburg though. Maybe you can come over some time and he'll make you one...and we can go back to being friendly rivals. I don't...want you to hate me..."

Yurio was a bit surprised at those words, but his acknowledgement was short-lived and barely earned a grunt in response. He turned and started to walk away, "You can thank me by giving me a good challenge at Worlds. If you don't or can't keep up, I'll be pissed that you bothered coming to St. Petersburg in the first place and wasted all our time."

Shoes thumped on the thin carpet floor, but as the teen marched off defiantly - followed slowly by his coach and choreographer, though both gave Victor somewhat-dirty looks as they went - Yuri lifted his head again, and gave something of a relieved sigh. Victor slid in behind him and gave what comfort he could, arms wrapped around his thin frame.

"...All this time, since we got back, I thought Yurio was mad at us because we'd gotten together." The silver said quietly, cheek pressed to his fiancé's exposed neck and ear, "...To realize he was mad just because I didn't come alone, and how it meant I couldn't focus on him..."

"...I hope what I said will help him." Yuri agreed, hands pressed to the back of his partner's forearms where they crossed over his core and chest, "I know he can be nice to me..."

"I'll try to pay a bit more attention to him at the rink so he doesn't feel left out."

"Same."