CHAPTER THIRTY TWO
-Estranged relatives always pop up at the worst time! Will history repeat itself!?-
I can do it... Yuri thought to himself, and flipped from a forward-skate to a backward-skate, then started to pick up speed, I can do it!
He leapt, spun four times, landed deep into the Salchow...and cursed himself quietly...
I psyched myself out...! I'll never get the higher GOE if I don't raise my arms up more consistently!
He came to a halt and went through the initial move again; he slowly slid forward on the ice and tried to remember how his body moved at Four Continents; how he'd used the momentum of his arms to throw himself higher into the air, and kept his arms up in the process.
If I use my arms to get more height, then bringing them down again early will just change my center of gravity...I have to keep them up and only bring them down again for the landing to keep my balance...
Hazel eyes looked over to where Victor was stretching and chatting with Yurio. They had both looked at him before, probably for his jumps, but they'd turned to look at one another again. Yuri pushed off with his toe and decided to give the arms-up Salchow another attempt. As he lifted his head and twisted his body to change direction, he caught sight of something dark on the other side of the rink.
That's weird...I thought Yakov was just here...?
And he was.
The gruff older coach was barely 20 meters to Yuri's left, setting down the last of the small orange cones to cordon off the official practice area from the public area. He wore his usual dark duster, matching hat, and blue scarf, affirming that Yuri had at least remembered what the man was wearing and why he thought the 'dark shape' might've been him to begin with.
Yuri turned his head back around and thought maybe he'd seen something that wasn't real, but when he looked...the dark spot was still there. Slate blue eyes were glaring at him from under the brim of a dark grey hat. Yuri's knees buckled under him and he collapsed to the ice in a panic, "Vik- Victor...!"
Yakov looked up, having seen the young skater drop out the corner of his eye, "Yuri?"
"VICTOR!" He cried out again, and clicked his heel-picks into the ice in a desperate attempt to gain ground towards safety, "VICTOR!"
Yakov was perplexed, and shifted his sights from where Yuri had collapsed, over to where he'd looked a moment prior. When he saw the same dark entity standing there, his jaw clenched, [What the hell is he doing here? How long has he been standing there?] He growled to himself, and dropped the remaining two cones as he headed for the nearest rink exit. He looked up again when he heard Victor gouging a crevasse in the ice as he stopped in front of his partner, calling out for Yuri to answer his questions.
When everyone had finally realized what made the foreign skater drop, the air became tense. They all looked to Victor, who to that point had said absolutely nothing except to Yuri. He'd only risen to stand up straighter, and looked to the source of his partner's fear.
"Victor, what should we do?" Yuri asked pensively, lightly touching his fiancé's arm like he wasn't sure he was even allowed to at that moment.
No words even needed to be said for Yurio and Mila to pick up on what was going on. The more Yuri sweat about that dark man's presence, the more obvious it became that he was a source of contention for the pair...and that could only mean one thing.
"That's the ass-bag who hit you?" Yurio blurted out, "Is he a stalker? We'll take care of him-"
"Absolutely not." Victor said sternly, unblinking, unmoving, "And shut up."
"Why?"
"Just stay here." He said with finality, and broke off from the group to skate forward alone.
Yuri watched him go, but the man's body language clearly stated this was his fight and not to follow. The entire population of the skating arena seemed to feel the rising tension in the air, and when their Nation's Hero skated into their midst, they parted for him and left the ice, seeing he had a purpose.
Bearing the big red [R U] on his chest made him look somewhat official, and he knew the sight of it would make the dark figure bristle, so he held his head high as he finally came to stop about ten meters away from the rink's edge. He drew a quiet breath, and spoke the name, "Konstantin." He said it flatly; he felt a weird serenity fall over him...the fear had gone. Unlike before, the man-bear was on his turf now, not the other way around, "Čego ty hočešʹ?" (What do you want?)
Konstantin said absolutely nothing; he just stood there like a statue, hands in his coat pockets, glaring straight ahead with an unblinking stare.
[Shit, you went ahead without me!] Came a strangely familiar voice, [I told you to wait outside until I got back!]
Victor was deflated at the sound of it, and peered his one blue eye to the side where he thought he saw someone coming up behind his father. Finally, the new figure was fully in sight, and Victor gawked at him awkwardly.
[I said I was going to get coffee! I wasn't even gone for twenty minutes!] The voice continued; it came from a man of perhaps 55 years of age, thin but not skinny, pale complexion, and grey-green eyes barely visible from under the front edge of a flat-cap hat, which sat atop a head of silver-grey hair. When Konstantin refused to respond to him, the smaller man turned his gaze over to where the bear had been looking, and thought he saw a ghost, "VICTOR!"
"...Huh?"
[You're even taller with skates on...] The thin man continued, much to Victor's chagrin; it was odd that the Russian he spoke was decent, even if the accent was a bit off, like it hadn't been practiced in some time, [Sorry to pop up like this all of a sudden. I wanted to say something to you at the funeral, before it all went to shite, but you seemed all weird, so I decided to keep my distance.]
[Seemed all weird? That's what you thought? Who are you?]
Everyone around was confused...but none more so than Yuri, who couldn't even understand what was being said.
[It's probably been 25 years since you last laid eyes on me in recognition. I apologize for that.] The unknown man continued, and came up to the rink wall with the aforementioned coffee in his hands. He set the cup down on the wall's edge and reached up for the edge of his hat, and pulled it off politely, [I'm your mom's brother. Uncle Mimi, remember?]
Victor turned his head a little to the side, confused beyond all reason, but a vague memory started to creep in, and there was a dawn of understanding. Not that anyone behind him could see, but for a brief moment, the slender Russian skater's face contorted from confusion to brief rage. He had to shake his head, clenching his eyes shut, to shake the feeling, and tried to look on normally again before anyone could question why he'd looked that way.
"...Uncle...Mimi?" Yurio repeated quietly in stunned surprise.
Yuri glanced over at him, but then turned back to watch things unfold, "...I think Victor was about to mention him before." He whispered, "But he stopped like it was too painful to think about."
[You look just like her, you know?] The elder gestured for Victor to approach, [Well, other than having the bear's eyes, anyway.]
Victor was still severely unsure of the whole situation, and he twisted back to his fiancé and fellow athletes, shrugging helplessly before he turned back around again. He pensively started to skate forward, extremely wary of Konstantin standing maybe five meters behind and to the side of this supposed uncle. He caught sight of Yakov coming up from the other side of the rink, rounding the big curve where the rink turned, and he held his hand out for the coach to stop. Yakov paused where he stood, glowering at Konstantin, but silently agreed not to intervene - for the moment.
[Do you remember me?] The supposed uncle asked.
Victor continued to look at him curiously, side-eyeing him with his one good eye, and got within two meters of the rink-wall. He finally raised his hand though, and pointed one finger to the ice, [Look down.]
[Huh?]
[Prove something to me. Look down, and I'll hear you out.]
The man shrugged and did so, bowing his head over the edge of the rink. He looked at Victor's skates for lack of anything else to see; he felt silly for it, but a moment later, he felt a finger poke down on the crown of his head - and the full fluff of hair that covered it.
Yuri saw it, and the relief was palpable, so he started skating forward.
"Hey!" Victor called back to the group, sliding backwards a bit to reveal the man properly to them, "Come meet my uncle!"
"Oh, you want to speak in English then?" The silver elder asked, trying to keep his coffee from being knocked down, "I can do that."
Yuri was surprised by it, His English is as good as ours. His accent isn't even half as thick as Victor or Yurio's...I wonder if he's been living in America or something?
"Tsh, isn't this rich." Yurio scowled quietly, "Just watch. Victor's entire extended family is gonna pop up now. I'll bet they all want something from him."
"What, like lottery winners?" Mila wondered nervously, "You think they didn't know who he was before?"
"He's never talked about his family before. This is ten kinds of fucked up." The teen snarled and narrowed his eyes on the two strangers, "Where the Hell did either of them even come from?"
"I thought you were in the Ukraine." Victor started, feeling more comfortable with his safely fiancé close-by. He let the older man regain his upright position; his attitude shifted quite to the opposite end of the spectrum suddenly.
"I did originally, though I left for a while. I was back again recently, but, well...you know, Putin started bombing it, so I came back here."
"How long have you been back in Russia?"
"About a year; I've been doing work in and around the region. I was in Moscow when I got the message that Tatiyana had passed. She'd told me years ago that you'd left home, but I couldn't remember what it had been for...but then when you and your father got into it at the funeral, I remembered."
"Father?" Yurio and Mila both whispered, and gaped at the bear, "That guy!?"
"You saw what happened and you didn't try to stop him." Victor's tone got bitter again, "You didn't even say anything."
"I did, Vivi, don't you re-"
"Don't call me that." The silver said curtly, surprising everyone with his bluntness, "You have no right."
The elder blinked, but nodded anxiously, "...Victor." He corrected, "I did step in. I was standing between you and that beast until your coach took you down the hill. I just couldn't get there fast enough...sorry."
The group was anxious as they heard the report of events, but green and blue eyes shifted over to where the behemoth Nikiforov patriarch was standing, and they glared with a desire for vengeance. He finally moved, causing Victor to twitch and back off again, but Konstantin just turned on his heel and headed for a table and bench nearby, pulled out a newspaper, and sat to read it quietly. The bear acted as though nothing was happening around him, and continued to stay silent.
The silver uncle reached over the wall, and cautiously held that hand lightly to his nephew's shoulder - though that lasted all of two seconds, and Victor pulled back to get away from it, "...Don't bother worrying about how to explain your world to him, Victor." The older man continued anyway, "He'll never understand you or what you do that way. This is all just noise; he's been tuning it out since we got into the city. Best not waste your breath on those who won't listen."
"So you know." Victor grumbled; he'd backed up a few inches on the ice by then.
"I've learned it all rather recently. You're a National Treasure." He answered, "As soon as I remembered that you were into skating, I went looking you up. Unlike some members of the family that prefer to live like it's still the grand ol' Soviet days, I live in the present, and I happen to greatly enjoy the internet and all its wonders. I know a lot of things about you now."
Yuri heard the words, and dared to do what he thought the man was alluding to. He slipped in under his fiancé's blind side, wrapped his arm around the man's waist, and kept the man's left arm over his shoulder, behind his head.
Victor was a little surprised, but reached up his right hand to put it over where he felt Yuri's settle on his hip.
"Ahhh you must be Yuri Katsuki." The thin elder said, confirming that aforementioned knowledge, and reached a hand forward in greeting, "A pleasure. I'm Mikhail Rozovsky, Victor's uncle."
Yuri reached out his left hand to take it gratefully, "It's nice to meet someone in Victor's family that speaks a language I understand...and isn't obviously crazy."
"Oh, I'm crazy," Mikhail laughed, "Just not that kind of crazy." He looked at his nephew again, but all he saw was dubious caution on that battered face.
"Why are either of you here?" Victor asked pointedly.
"I couldn't find you on my own. When I reached out to the ISU, I was told that I wasn't allowed to find out where your home rink was, or even how to get hold of your coach. Apparently the whole family got black-listed after what happened between you and your father...and I don't blame you."
"He couldn't just give you an address then?" Victor was skeptical.
"He burned all the information he had on you after he came into town before, and couldn't remember what it said."
Yuri huffed a nervous laugh at that, "Guess that's where you picked up that habit..."
Victor just smiled venomously and pinched his partner's arm unexpectedly, getting a yelp, "Don't say things like that."
Mikhail shrugged, "Konstantin said he remembered how to drive here by landmarks and visual cues, but couldn't give directions...so I was stuck with having him bring me here himself. It took two days to convince him to do it, so don't say I wasn't eager to come find you. ...Why don't you come off the ice and sit with me? We have so much to talk about."
Yuri was anxious at that statement, "If your father knew how to find the rink by looking around, then it means he's driven by here before..."
"Mhm..." Victor agreed warily, "...The same thought crossed my mind as well."
"He came by while you two were in Korea." Yakov explained, "I saw him pass by myself, once or twice, but I didn't recognize him at the time. Not completely. He must've been looking for you so he could avoid going through me. It seems he's taking what you said at the funeral seriously though."
Victor looked over at the dark cloud at the table near the exit, "...Yeah, maybe. Or he's just not willing to murder me in sight of others."
Yakov shooed Mila and Yurio off after that, realizing that the entire rink had been cleared by that point, and there was no longer any need for the dividing cones. Georgi had been quietly watching from the team's bench area, and rejoined the group once they skated by. Yuri and Victor exited the rink together, and headed for their blade guards before slowly making their way over to the table and chairs nearest to where they were...and farthest from Konstantin.
Mikhail sat first, on the opposite side of the table from the skaters, and Yuri sat second. The two of them had their feet under the table, but Victor was still a bit hesitant, so he sat sideways, with only one leg under the table, deciding instead to lean forward against his partner, and rested his chin on the man's right shoulder as his arms snuck around that small frame, clasping his fingers over Yuri's far hip.
"So why'd you want to find me anyway?" Victor wondered curiously, "After more than twenty years. Come to ask for money now that you know you have a famous relative?"
"I don't need or want your money. As for the timing...out of sight, out of mind..." Mikhail explained, and nursed his cooling coffee, "I got a bug to reach out to you after what I saw at the funeral. I'm not even sure if most of those people had the slightest idea about who you are or what you've done with your life since leaving that little shit-hole town, but it killed me all the same to see how they looked at you so scornfully. I didn't get the welcome-mat either, if it makes you feel better, but it was likely for very different reasons. I wanted you to know that not everyone in the clan is a dipshit."
"Says the guy who abandoned mom and I so he could be happy without us." Victor growled and turned to face away. He sighed and set his chin on his partner's shoulder, and distracted himself with Yurio's jump practice.
"Victor..." Mikhail tried to get his attention back, "I don't know what you were told about me, but I can assure you that I didn't just leave because I wanted to." He attempted; he at least got that eye back on him, "The last couple weeks have been really hard on you. It doesn't take a Roscosmos Engineer to figure that out. I want to try to make it up to you...maybe even try to help you understand why it happened. I left when you were so young...you probably don't remember anything."
"What are you talking about? Understand what?"
Yuri could feel his partner getting tense again, and reached up his hand to squeeze Victor's fingers where they clenched on his waist.
"Why I left. Why your father hates skating so much...and you."
"Isn't it obvious?"
"Maybe not as obvious as you think. It's not Yuri that pisses him off, not entirely anyway."
"Oh, well, that clears everything up." Victor said bitterly.
"It's not so simple." Mikhail went on, and took a sip at his drink, "To Kon, you and figure skating are two sides to the same issue, and he didn't just decide one day to pick skating as a thing he hated for no reason. There is a reason."
"I don't think it really matters much. Giving me some clue as to why he hates my profession won't make me forgive him for breaking my face twice over it."
"Twice?" The elder echoed, "What do you mean, twice? Cuz he hit you twice at the funeral?"
Victor could feel his skin twitch under the bandages, but he leered anyway, "No. Twice as in he did it to me as a kid, too. He just tried to finish what he started."
Mikhail was stunned and sat more upright, like he was about to slam his hands down on the table and storm off in a rage. He stopped himself though and cleared his throat, glaring over his shoulder towards the bear before he sat down again and drew in a deep breath, "I didn't need that image in my head... I can't believe he'd hit a kid."
"Believe whatever you want." Victor said sharply and looked away again.
Mikhail hesitated for a moment, staring at the mouthpiece of his paper cup. He drew in a breath and shook his head, "When Kon was a kid, he fell on the ice. The rest of the village kids made fun of him for weeks because he tore his pants on his skates, and his ass hung out the entire way back to his family's house. He never recovered from the shame."
Yuri would've laughed if it wasn't so pathetic, and Victor felt the same.
"My point is...you've become exceptionally good at something that once humiliated him, so he doesn't want you to succeed, because that's humiliating to him, too. This whole thing you have with Yuri was just the cherry on top for him."
"He still didn't have to hit me over it." Victor growled.
"He learned that from his own father. It's a cycle. I hope you break it one day."
"Victor's never hit anyone or anything in his life." Yuri defended, barging into the middle of the conversation.
"Is that what he's told you?"
"Victor broke his old man's nose." Yurio chirped from behind, having overheard the conversation.
Yuri was stunned, turning from the blonde's voice to look instead at his partner, "You what?"
Victor wasn't proud of it, so he avoided the man's gaze.
"Victor...!"
"Konstantin had it coming." Mikhail said, draining the last of the coffee from the cup in his hands, "But you did swing the first punch. He may not have hit you back if you hadn't."
"He poured vodka on my head and called Yuri my wife. I felt like I had to defend both of us."
Yuri's face was a little red at the mention of it, and he lowered his head, I'm male...that makes me a husband...eventually... Not that it's bad to be a wife! It's just not the right word for me...? Oh man...
"It was degrading what he did, believe me, I get that...but..."
"Never mind." Victor ended that conversational piece and stood up, one leg still astride each side of the bench, "It's over and done. I broke his nose and he broke my face...we're even."
"I think you can get him on your side."
"Why would I even want that? Even if he suddenly stopped hating skating today, I'd still have to worry about him taking his rage out on Yuri next time. I'd never trust him to be around us."
"I've seen people change their tune when it's their own kids who go through it. You may never convince him with your words that what you do is an honorable thing, but maybe you can show him. What it means to you, your teammates, and to Russia as a whole. You can show him the kind of blood, sweat, and tears that go into it...that it isn't just some dog and pony show." Mikhail tried to explain.
"No." Victor said with finality, and pulled his right leg free of the seat, "I don't care that he hates skating, and I don't care that he hates me for being a skater. His opinion hasn't mattered to me for nearly twenty years, and I'm not going to start thinking it matters now." He set his boot on the ground with a thump and took a step back towards the team's prep area, "Thanks for coming to see me, uncle. I'm glad to be related to at least one person who isn't disgusted by me. But...I really need to go practice now... Come on, Yuri, you need to practice, too."
Yuri looked at where his fiancé held out his hand, and rose from the bench quietly. He looked back at the silver-haired elder, bowed his head to the man, and then turned to take that offered hand to go back out onto the ice.
Mikhail watched them go without saying anything more. Instead, he turned his head back to his nephew's father, sighed, and stood up as well, "You've really made a fine mess of things."