CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED SEVENTY NINE
[This is it?]
[This is it.]
The doorways were too low and the halls too narrow. For a Japanese hotel room though, it was fairly large...not that the Russian man-bear knew that. He looked around the small space with skeptical eyes, but didn't complain further, simply squeezing in and setting his bag on the floor in the space between the wall and bed.
Mikhail watched the man carefully, [It's the only one that opened up since people started having the opportunity to cancel or fail to arrive. I'd have gotten another one for Yura if there was one, but this was it...so, you win the prize.] He stepped further into the room and pushed the curtains aside with a few fingers, [At least the view is nice.] He shook his head suddenly and turned around, fishing for something out of his coat and handing it to the older fellow, [Here, I got this phone for you. If you ever need something, just call me. I already programmed my number into it.]
Konstantin looked at the tiny device, seeing the teensy-weensy buttons, and then looked back at Mikhail, [Yeah.]
[Oh, right.] The silver Russian rifled around in another pocket with his free hand and withdrew a stylus after that, handing it over as well, [For your big fat sausage-fingers.]
Still a bit dubious, Konstantin finally accepted the small device and the plastic pen that went with it, looked at it closer-up, and set it down.
[You know how to use it?] Mikhail asked, tilting his head a little, [Have you ever even held a cellphone in your hand before?]
[I know how to use a phone.]
[But it's a cellphone. It's newfangled and different. I can show you-]
Slate eyes just looked down on him, [I can figure it out.]
[Just call my phone real quick then so I don't stay up all night wondering if you can't.] The smaller figure grumbled, [Do it and I'll go.]
Grumbling with annoyance, the bear reached to pick up the tiny object again and used the stylus to finagle his way through the menus. Before long, Mikhail's phone jingled in his coat, and just to be sure, the silver Russian reached to pull it out and checked to make sure it was the expected caller ID.
Satisfied, he clicked to cancel the call and put his phone back in place again, [Okay...I'm going then. If I come back right away, it's because Minako hates me. If not, it's because she doesn't hate me as much.] He started walking back towards the door, pulling it open halfway before turning back again, [No one in the building speaks Russian, so if you decide you want something to eat, just call and I'll come translate.]
[I'm just going to sleep. I haven't been on a flight like that since before Viktor was born.]
[...You've flown internationally before?] Mikhail wondered, a bit surprised.
[When Tat and I were doing school in St. Petersburg.] The bear explained, pulling his heavy coat off, [We had to do part of it in Almaty. Didn't she ever tell you?]
[...Oh, I thought you meant you went to somewhere far away...like Peru or something.] The silver Russian started heading out, waving as he went, [Anyway...goodnight, and thank you for not killing Yuri.]
Konstantin didn't even have a chance to respond before the door clicked closed, so he just rolled his eyes and grumbled something under his breath.
Taking the elevator to an upper level, Mikhail twiddled on his phone again, connecting to the wifi and checking his email for the number to the room he'd booked months ago. All he could recall without the reminder was the floor. When he stepped out, he was still looking at his phone, barely paying attention to anything around him as he walked. He looked up only to see what direction he had to go to find the room. Once he was standing outside the door, he fumbled for the key-card he didn't have, and then reluctantly reached his hand out to knock on it.
A few awkward moments passed before the door started to click from the other side, and finally cracked open a little, getting a weird eyeball from within before the door finally opened all the way. Minako held her arm out on the doorframe to block him from entering and gawked, "What?"
"What?" He answered, caught off guard, "...Can't I come into the room I paid for?"
"You can sleep with your huge friend. The one you brought to Japan without telling anyone because you already knew we'd all say no." She said stiffly, starting to close the door again.
Mikhail just blinked stunned grey-green eyes, hardly even managing the presence of mind to react before seeing the panel nearly shutting right in his face, "...Well, I already did that, so..." He said tensely, almost blurting the words out without really thinking about them first.
The door clicked anyway.
He grit his teeth and turned on his heel, resigning to the sad fact that he'd rubbed Minako entirely the wrong way, and quietly moved down the hall like a shambling zombie.
"Of course you already did that. It was your idea." He heard the woman's voice whisper-barking at him from behind, having barely opened the door again.
Mikhail stopped, tilting his head only slightly to acknowledge her, "I meant the first thing you said, but whatever. I'll just go find a chair in the lobby to sleep in."
"...What."
He could practically feel the woman boring holes into the back of his skull, eyes like daggers, but he kept walking, "Nothing."
Footsteps heralded her entrance into the hallway, but the Russian still hadn't turned fully around to look at her, "Mikhail Rozovsky, explain yourself."
"What'd he do?" Yurio suddenly wondered, sticking his head out of the bathroom with a toothbrush hanging out of his mouth.
"I think he just said he's slept with Viktor's father?" She whispered back at him, "I'm not sure."
The teen wasn't sure whether to spit his toothbrush out, swallow it, choke on it, or let it fall from his mouth. He just froze, eyes getting small as they narrowed, "...What in the... No way. He's messing with you."
"...I honestly can't tell." She whispered again, hand over her mouth as she continued to glare down the hall.
"I'd explain it all to you but apparently I'm not welcome in my own room, so I'll have to go sing my sad song to someone else, somewhere else." Mikhail called back, raising one arm to wave goodbye, "Tah-tah~"
Yurio cleaned his face off really quickly before sticking his head out through the main door, hair still half-tied-back. He saw where the older man was starting to get a good distance away, and had nearly made it to the corner where he'd vanish, but the teen turned green eyes up at Minako instead, "You want me to drag him back here?"
"He's being a child." She said, crossing her arms and making a face, "He's just trying to goad me into hearing him out about Viktor's father."
"Probably." The blonde agreed, "...Still, you want me to bring him back?"
"How would you even manage? He's nearly two feet taller than you are." The ballerina looked at him skeptically.
"Watch me." Yurio huffed, taking it as a challenge now and taking off in a brisk jog towards the end of the hall.
Mikhail had already gone around and out of sight, so Minako could only imagine what happened once the teen rounded the corner as well, hearing the awkward yelps, grunts, and eventual thud that came after.
The silver Russian had heard the teen bounding up, and felt the tingle up his spine like in Bordeaux, spinning around just in time to grab Yurio's foot where it was about to come crashing against the middle of his spine...and just like in Bordeaux, that foot, once firmly grasped, was pushed high into the air, keeping the teen off balance. However, unlike in Bordeaux, Mikhail felt a sudden twinge in his back as he'd twisted...and he went down to his knees, then to his side with a grunt of pain, letting go of Yurio's leg while trying to reach for the spot, but unable to.
The Russian Tiger just looked at where the man was twitching, grabbed him by the ankle, and started dragging his weighty frame back the way they'd come. He huffed a laugh and glanced at Minako as he came around the corner, "Told you."
"...What did you do to him?"
"The more often someone falls off a roof, the more likely they are to be giant idiots." The teen answered, looking back on the man, seeing him weakly flailing his hands for where his hat had fallen off and had been left somewhere further up the hall, but then gave up, arms flopping down to get dragged as well.
The ballerina watched hesitantly as Yurio dragged the hapless man into the room, scraping his ribs against the doorframe as he made the final turn, but finally got him all the way in, hands still up where they'd been dragging on the floor over his head. With a sigh, Minako went back into the hall, collected the hat, and finally went back into the room as well, closing the door with a click and locking the deadbolt like before.
Mikhail was still writhing on the floor, hair all messed up where it had dragged along the carpet, but at least Yurio had let him go by then.
The teen sat on the edge of the bed with his legs crossed, resting his chin in the palm of one hand as he looked down, "You're pathetic," He commented, then leaned back, "I dunno what she sees in you."
"M-more than she sees in you I'd hope..." The elder grunted, moving his arms from overhead to his sides, holding there like he thought it would do something about the shooting pain. He glanced up a little when he saw the woman's shadow looming over him, but just as he was about to catch sight of her, she dropped his hat on his face and covered his eyes, "V-Vivi...save me...from your cruel friends..."
"Maybe you should've thought of that before saying weird shit." The blonde argued, nudging at him with a foot, "You should probably explain yourself if you expect to get up off the floor sometime before morning."
Minako joined the younger Russian on the edge of the bed, putting her elbows on her knees and her chin in the palms of her hands, "Agreed."
"Why should I have to explain anything...?" He muttered, pulling the hat off with one hand finally, and glaring knives back up at the pair, "I'm the one who just got assaulted."
"I missed. You went down on your own." Yurio shrugged.
"And if I hadn't moved, you'd have crammed your foot so far up my arse, I'd be able to taste what socks you wore today."
"Sounds like it wouldn't have been the first or only thing to ever go up that way." The blonde shrugged, "Unless that's not what you meant."
"Of course that's not what I meant." Mikhail argued, roughly grabbing his hat with both hands over his chest, "What kind of sick minds do you two have anyway? Jeeze."
"You're the one who said you slept with him." Minako pointed out dryly.
"I said 'I already did that' after you told me to sleep with him, and I'm pretty sure you didn't mean anything more than simply sharing the room." He said between grit teeth, trying desperately to push himself up onto an elbow, only to feel the twinge again and go right down onto his back again with a grunt, "...W-What...kind of weird...sexual kinks do you people think I have anyway?"
The two on the bed side-eyed each other, but then Yurio stood and went back towards the bathroom, "...I was about to shower. I'll just go do that now. I don't want to hear about the sex swing you have in your condo." The teen quickly hopped over where Mikhail was still splayed out on the floor, disappearing from sight a few seconds later and closing the bathroom door behind him with a loud click.
Minako finally sighed out loud and stood up, moving to crouch just above the Russian's shoulders and reached down to slowly start pushing him up, "You really are strange."
"Ah..ah ow ow...ow..." He groaned, every inch upright like another stab. Eventually though, he was able to sit, and with a little help, got back onto his feet long enough to sit on the end of the bed, trying his best to stay straight.
"I'd almost say you deserved this." The ballerina chided, crossing her arms again as she sat on the corner, "Seriously. Bringing Viktor's father here? What were you thinking?"
"A lot happened while Viktor and I were out that way." Mikhail said pensively, still wincing as the pain slowly subsided, "By the end of it, I thought maybe I'd convinced Viktor that his father wasn't the brute he'd remembered him as. There's so much more to Konstantin than those two bad moments."
"It's not like those two bad moments were minor events." Minako argued, "Viktor was practically a baby the first time."
"He was twelve."
"Try to tell a mother that her twelve-year-old isn't her baby."
"What, are you a mother and I don't know about it?" He countered, turning his head slightly and giving a look.
"No, but your sister was, and I imagine she didn't appreciate it." The ballerina pointed out, "Besides, if someone ever hit Yuri the way Konstantin hit Viktor, there'd only be ashes and a skid-mark where that person once stood when I got done with them. Yuri might not be my blood, but he's my family, and now Viktor is, too. I'll protect both of them, even if it has to be from you or from Konstantin."
"You don't have to protect either of them from me." Mikhail defended, feeling a little hurt, "Kon wouldn't even be here if Viktor had said no."
"He did say no."
.
The ride back from the steel mill had by-passed the alcove where they normally parked, heading out to the main road. Within a few minutes, they were in the parking lot outside the newly rebuilt outdoor ice skating arena where Yakov had first conscripted the young skater all those years ago. Viktor was the first out of the car, looking around like he was 10 years old all over again.
[...It's different, but...it's still the same.] He commented idly, seeing about a dozen younger skaters on the ice, practicing hockey, with another dozen or more at rink-side waiting their turns.
[So this is where you both came all those years ago.] Kon commented, [I remember hearing about it burning down. The locals insisted it be rebuilt for some crazy reason.]
[Probably because of the talent scouts that still come through the area. The whole region descended on this place for a chance to get noticed, even as far back as when we used to come here.] Mikhail explained, [Well, when Tat and I came here anyway. You were always too pissy about it to join us.]
[I wonder why.] The bear asked bitterly, staring down with a cold glare.
[Oh don't be salty. You could've come anytime you wanted.] The smaller man contested, [You act like what I did was the worst possible thing.]
[If you hadn't spent every waking second reminding me and everyone else about it for that entire winter and following year, it probably wouldn't have been, but since you did...]
Viktor huffed and rolled his eyes, "You two argue like an old married couple."
"You're lucky you said that in English." His uncle quipped, "Not that I like it much myself...the old part, anyway. Getting old is shit. I don't recommend it."
[I tend to think you two are talking bad about me when you start prattling on in languages I don't understand.] Konstantin grumbled quietly, [I'm standing right here.]
[We're just commenting on the grandeur of being vintage.] Mikhail explained, patting the big man's arm before stuffing his hand back into his pocket and going towards the rink entrance, [I'm sure you're starting to feel it, too, under all that bear-meat you tuck away so well.]
[Sometimes.]
There was no admission fee to get into the rink, only to rent skates if someone wanted, so they were able to access the arena without being bothered for money.
Viktor barely made it three steps towards rink-side before someone hit a wall hard nearby, collapsing to the ice with a loud crunch, and pointing at him emphatically, [...Are you okay?] He asked awkwardly.
[Y-You..you're Viktor Nikiforov!] The boy shrieked, voice cracking in surprise, [W-What are...why are you here!?]
Murmurs and muttering started to rise up from all sides of the rink as more people saw and recognized him, although not everyone did. Nearly half the hockey players had converged towards center by then, most of them gawking over their shoulders at him and whispering amongst themselves. Those at rink-side were doing the same thing.
Viktor's eyes caught a glimpse of someone flashing a photo from the side, and he turned and waved anxiously, [...Ah, hi~...?]
[Maybe you should've been a hockey player, Viktor.] Konstantin suddenly suggested, [At least it isn't as froofroo as figure skating.]
[I like figure skating.] Viktor argued suddenly, still a bit tense despite everything else, [It's more challenging than hitting a block of rubber with sticks and crushing people against walls.]
Mikhail's eyes went between them as each made their points, but he soon found himself stepping closer to his nephew. As soon as the man was done saying his piece, he nudged an elbow against his side, "We should bring Kon to NHK."
"WHAT? NO. NO WAY."
[What?] Kon wondered, eyes squinting at them, [You're doing it again.]
"I'm serious." Mikhail went on, "He doesn't seem to have a clue about how hardcore figure skating can be. I think we should take him with us and show him what it's like. He can't get the full picture just by me forcing him to watch your programs on my tablet."
"ABSOLUTELY NOT." Viktor insisted, looking incredulous, "Yuri will have a stroke the SECOND he sees my father."
"So we'll warn him before we get there."
"No!" Viktor insisted, "He'll just have a stroke over the phone instead!"
"You don't want your papa to see what you do, for real? To gain an appreciation for the kind of Hell you guys put yourselves through for your sport?"
"If it was just me then that would be a different issue! But he literally picked Yuri up and threw him down a road the first time they met. I can't put him through this!" The younger Russian explained, "Mimi, please, don't..."
"This is your one golden chance to prove to your papa that what you do for a living is the real deal, and not just some frivolous hobby with no point."
"So have him come to Nationals at the end of the month then, when Yuri won't be there!"
"So you're just going to lie to him about your father being around? That'll go over well." Mikhail shrugged, "He already worries about you coming back right now. Prove to him that things are different and it's okay now."
"...You're unbelievable. How is this okay?"
"Have him come with us to NHK. I already checked that he's got a valid passport. I even floated the idea yesterday of him seeing an event and he didn't outright laugh at me. Give it a shot. Let him learn about you. He has a lot of catching up to do."
Viktor just growled, "...If Yuri kills me for this, I'm going to find a way to come back just to kill you, too."
"That's fair."
.
"...He might've offered a small protest, but he eventually agreed." Mikhail said, looking a bit to the side to avoid the skeptical gaze, "It's not like I just said to Kon that he should come without asking Viktor first."
"I asked him about this before I left him and Yuri in their room earlier." Minako pointed out, "How do you think I know how he feels?"
"It wouldn't be the most shocking revelation even if someone just guessed." The Russian pointed out sarcastically, reaching up to start unbuttoning his coat, the warmth of the room starting to get a little uncomfortable, "But didn't he tell you that he agreed, too?"
"He said he's still really worried about how things will go over once the event actually starts on Friday. He said Yuri's scared to touch him when Konstantin's around, and that the only reason they were even holding hands on the way back from the airport was because he made Yuri do it. Why do you think they went to their own train car?" She explained firmly, then leaning closer into the man's personal bubble, looming over him a little as she rose up onto one knee, "If Konstantin makes Yuri scared to be with Viktor, a guy he's worshipped since he was twelve years old..."
"It'll be fine!" Mikhail insisted, twitching a little as he tried to shrug his heavy jacket off, "Viktor made Kon promise not to do anything to them!"
"Words are wind, Mikhail!"
"I won't let anything happen! Kon's been doing fine anyway! He helped them up off the floor at the airport after Yuri had his little freak-out!"
"Y-" Minako found herself stopping short, "...Wait, what?"
"...Kon...helped them up from the floor...?" Mikhail repeated, leaning forward on his knee a little as his right hand went around to rub his back, grunting quietly between grit teeth as he looked to the floor, "I was really surprised when I saw it...but Kon was really gentle... He's always been gentle..."
"Except those two times when he nearly broke Viktor's head in half." The ballerina pointed out, sinking back to her prior spot and crossing her arms a little tighter across her chest.
"...I wish I could give you my memories of him..." The Russian said quietly, "...I wish I could make you see how I remember him, how gentle he always was with my sister... You'd think she was the most precious, delicate thing in the entire world because of it. He once wrestled an actual bear to protect her. He's huge and he made two really horrible mistakes, unfortunately with the same person... But I swear on my life, he's not like that all the time. What happened with Viktor..." He tried to sit up again, but his back was just pulsing with pain, putting him nearly to tears for it, "...I swear...it was...his biggest regret..."
"Maybe the first time. What about the second? People in the skating community were told he'd been in a car accident, but we all knew it was a lie because pictures showed that his car was fine."
"Viktor hit him first." He answered, cringing and pulling his hand back, fists trembling where he had them over his knees, "I don't know that Kon would've done anything else, if not for that..."
Minako blinked at him, his words pulling her out of her cold-hearted trance long enough to realize his pain finally. She pushed off the edge of the bed and moved to sit behind the man, reaching nervously for the back of his shirt before finally just shaking her head and pulling it up, and the undershirt with it, to see where he was hurting. She could see the two red spots on either side of his spine where the surgery had been done, still healing, and a lot of bruising around it.
"W-What are you..." Mikhail asked, trying to look back at her but finding it impossible, dipping his head again to avoid another spasm.
She didn't answer, just moving to press her thumbs into the sore flesh, digging in and sliding them up along either side of his spine. She could feel him go practically breathless from the flash of pain, but held still despite it, and the more she worked it, the less it all seemed to hurt. She dug a little harder only when she saw the man setting his forehead into his palms, gritting his teeth but otherwise not feeling the sharp stabbing pain anymore.
"I doubt you re-broke your back just now, but twisting to avoid Yura's kick put your lats into a spasm." Minako explained, carefully continuing her work, "You're lucky I know how to handle this sort of thing. Cramps, spasms, and strains were always the worst thing for dancers; ballerinas and skaters alike."
"...It...still hurts..."
"I'm trying to break up the fascia." She explained, "It'll feel better later."
"...Is this your way of punishing me yourself now?" He wondered, eyes finally turning back to peer through silver-grey bangs.
"I have a feeling you'll be punishing yourself soon enough." Minako explained, working her way down, pressing her thumbs along the rear crests of his hips, running along the length of each one as carefully as she could, but knowing that there would be pain now for later gain, "Honestly, I just want you to feel guilty for what you're going to be putting Yuri through. Viktor may have tacitly agreed to this insane plan of yours, but Yuri didn't, and it's not fair to him at all. You sprung this on him like the worst trap. He was saying yesterday that he was really hoping that NHK would be the first event of the season where they could all just kick back and have fun, especially since his friend from Thailand will be here. But you kind of ruined that."
Mikhail felt the pit in his stomach growing, "...I knew...it was a risk... I thought if he knew Viktor agreed, it wouldn't be so bad... Kon's changed a lot since they first met last year."
"For your sake, I hope that's true. If it gets bad enough, I expect you'll ask Konstantin to stay behind."
"...I will..."