CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED NINETY SIX
"Ladies and Gentlemen...Welcome to the opening ceremony of ISU Grand Prix of Figure Skating...NHK Trophy."
A dozen young teenaged lady-skaters came out onto the ice, each wearing a light blue skating dress, and each carrying the flag of a competing country. Japan in front, since it was the host, then Kazakhstan, Italy, Latvia, South Korea, Poland, Finland, Russia, the USA, and a few others, all lined up back-to-back, with another dozen or so skaters on the opposite short-end of the rink; Germany, Jerusalem, Spain, and others. The second line was lead by a skater carrying the flag of the ISU itself.
The announcement overhead was spoken in Japanese first by a female presenter, then English by a male one. Once the presenting skaters were in position and ready, the next line was read.
"To kick-off the event, please enjoy Flag Skating by the local skaters of Hokkaido Skating Federation. They are the future stars from this region."
Overhead, a peaceful serenade of harps and violins began to play, signaling the skaters to begin moving forward, holding their flag-posts out ahead of them.
[The ISU used a weird remix of 'A Whole New World' from Aladdin for this OC...I'm not sure I'll use it, so pick whatever you want for now.]
Blades scratched the pristine ice, leaving long, gliding marks as each skater rounded the edge of the rink. Once they'd passed each other's opposite side, they slid forward along the long sides of the wall, stopped in place, waved their flags, and then turned towards center, moving forward to pass between one another, then paused again with a 10ft gap between their lines.
Yuri watched quietly from one of the rink-side stands with the other coaches, feeling horribly out of place and yet perfectly at ease at the same time. At least Celestino had sit down next to him, making it less awkward...and yet, that just made it more awkward.
"You look too nervous to be the not-really-a-coach for one of the world's best, Yuri. Do I need to give you the lecture about being too young to coach other skaters like I did to Viktor last year?"
The raven-haired figure squeaked out of his train of thought and glanced to the side, where he saw that particular pony-tailed instructor smirking at him in his usual way, "C-Celestino..." He managed, catching his breath in his throat awkwardly before coughing and looking back out to the ice.
The flag-bearers had gone into a double-ring maneuver, with all but 4 of them skating in a big circle in one direction, and those other 4 on the inside skating in the other. Flags whipped quietly above them, churned up by the passing cold air.
Hazel eyes scanned the audience on the opposite side of the rink, trying to catch a glimpse of where anyone familiar might be sitting, for good or bad, "I'm not nervous. I'm just-"
"You're nervous." Celestino prodded, "I coached you for 5 years...you think I don't know your habits and mannerisms? You've grown more confident, that's true, but you're still the same old Yuri Katsuki I remember. What do you have to be anxious about at an event where you aren't even competing? You won gold in both of your own. This thing should just be fun for you. You get to sit back and watch Viktor just like you used to."
"Well..." The skater grumbled a little, "The Russian Yuri disappeared a little while ago and he's not answering his phone. No one's heard from him in hours. I'm worried about what he's up to."
"Yuri Plisetsky." The coach huffed, crossing his ankles just under the front of his chair, "You've developed a weird friendship with him. After you told me what he did in Sochi, and then hearing about how he showed up in Hasetsu after Viktor...I thought you two would end up as hated rivals, especially after he usurped you on the podium at least year's Final."
"...That was true for a while." Yuri answered, "But I never hated him. At worst, I think he just resented me for being the reason Viktor left Russia. After what happened to him at Euros though, and then especially at Worlds, things kind of settled down."
"Ah, yeah, I'd heard about that. Is Viktor's uncle still sponsoring him?"
"Yeah, for the time being." The skater confirmed, satisfied with his tertiary examination of the audience that nothing would surprise him, or Viktor when he came out for his part. He drew in a breath and leaned back in his chair, trying to relax...but the nagging feeling wouldn't go away that something was up.
"Thank you for the great performance, skaters...!" The English announcer called. A moment passed as the clapping faded out, and the skaters all stood still in a circle together, backs to center, "Ladies and Gentlemen...please rise for the national anthem."
Yuri huffed and rose back up again, standing politely with the rest of the coaches and audience. The low thrum of the voiceless orchestra resounded overhead after that, playing for less than a minute before fading out again, and the audience retook its seats.
"Arigatou gozaimashita..." The female announcer called, speaking on as the crowd started to turn around again.
"Thank you, please be seated." The male announcer echoed; the skaters started to move off together in pairs towards rink-side, stepping back through the gate one at a time.
Like before, Yuri slid into the back of his seat, feeling the butterflies in his stomach.
"It would be kind of nice if these Opening Ceremonies for the GP Series were a bit more lively than they are." Celestino said suddenly, "OCs for Euros and the Final, and all the other events of the year, are always so exciting and interesting. These ones though...meh...hardly any effort at all."
"Yeah." The skater agreed quietly.
"...You're more of a space cadet than usual." The coach went on, crossing his arms as he glowered at the younger figure next to him, "Why are you so worried about Plisetsky anyway? He's almost 18; he can handle himself."
"It's not just him I'm worried about." Yuri answered, about ready to jump out of his skin to wander around and look more thoroughly. The announcements went on to introduce an ISU representative to offer greetings for the event...but that just meant another 10 minutes of boring monotonous talking that every participant had heard a thousand times before. So with that, Yuri was up on his feet, quickly scurrying along the blue-covered wall to get to the prep-area curtain, hoping not to be seen as too distracting as he went. He could hear Celestino calling for him to come back, but those butterflies had become more like ballistic missiles bouncing off the inside of his thin frame, and he couldn't sit still anymore.
Once through the curtain, the skater looked around anxiously, only to spot Viktor standing literally less than 5 feet away from him. The man had his eyes closed, ear-buds in, and was leaning against the wall, waiting for the moment he was supposed to go out to do his part. Yuri reached a nervous hand out and touched it to his partner's forearm to get his attention, "Viktor."
One blue eye opened, "Hm?" Seeing Yuri there instead of some ISU official caught him off guard, and as he jerked up a little in surprise, one ear-bud came out to fall in front of his chest, "Yuri? What are you doing back here? Did you see him? You're su-"
"I didn't." He shook his head, "I was going to go see if I can find him the old fashioned way since he's not answering my calls or texts. I'm worried he might've gone after your f-"
A finger was immediately over Yuri's mouth, and Viktor shook his head, pulling the other ear-bud out with his free hand, "I'm sure he's around somewhere. He'll occasionally put his phone to silent when he's at an event." The Russian suggested, "He might've even gone to sit with Uncle Mimi and Minako."
The shorter figure's brow furrowed, and he shook his head, feeling Viktor's finger come away from his lips, "I've texted Minako-sensei and he's not with them."
"Who are you talking about?" Mila asked, coming up alongside them, "I could see your worried face from halfway across the hall."
"Yurio." Viktor answered, "He's been MIA since Pairs."
"...He's not missing." The woman tilted her head at them, "Coach Yakov and I saw him coming in nearly 30 minutes ago, and it looked like some huge scary guy was following him."
"Yakov was with me and the other coaches though..." Yuri pointed out, "Yurio wasn't with him."
"Then everything must be fine." Mila shrugged, "The huge guy must've just been going the same direction."
Viktor was bristling under his SP ensemble and team jacket, but he tried not to give it away. He tilted back and stuck a finger through the curtain, pulling it back just enough to get a look at where the coaches had been sitting on the opposite side of the rink from the Premium Spectator section. It was easy enough to spot the coaches he recognized, and he saw Yakov himself sitting just one row up and 5 seats over from Celestino, and Yuri's empty spot. Slate eyes wandered up from there, "Did you look behind yourself when you were out there?"
"Hah?" Yuri grimaced, "Well, not directly behind...I didn't want to be that obvious... Celestino was already interrogating me just because of the look on my face."
"Well, good thing, I guess." The Russian sighed and let the curtain go, "He was right there in your blindspot."
A shiver went down the skater's spine, and in morbid disbelief, he gently pulled a section of the curtain back so he could get one eye to peer through...and spotted both Yurio and the Nikiforov Patriarch right where Viktor said they'd be, "Shimatta...!" He let the curtain go and turned back around, careful to make sure it wouldn't open up, "They were right behind me the whole time. How did I not feel one of them digging holes in the back of my head!?"
"They?" Mila echoed, "Who else would be with him?"
It was tempting to stop the woman from looking, but that would've been futile and just made the situation more awkward than it needed to be. Instead, Yuri just turned his head back as he felt his partner slouching against him, chin resting over one shoulder as arms came under his own to wrap around his sides, hands coming to rest around his front. He could feel the cringe even if he didn't hear or see it.
"Oh, that's the huge scary guy from before. I wonder what the heck Yuri is doing with him?" The redhead said curiously, "Coach Yakov looks pretty prickly out there. Normally he's half-asleep during this part." She finally pulled back from the curtain and let it settle in its closed position, ignoring the ongoing droning of the ISU official still giving her welcome speech...in broken English, then in Japanese. She crossed her arms as she noted the evolving expression on the pair's faces, "What's going on with you two? Why are you acting like this is the worst possible thing?"
Yuri held his tongue, not sure what to say, or whether he should even try anyway. It had taken the better part of a year for Viktor to spill the beans on his past...what business was it of his to go spilling it to someone else? He just stood stoically in the man's anxious embrace and stayed quiet.
"Viktor?"
[Apparently Yurio has become friendly with my father.] He answered in Russian, knowing the language barrier would make it safe to speak. His fingers curled a little tighter around where he'd gripped to his husband's jacket, [Much as I wish he hadn't.]
[...Your father?] Mila repeated, giving him a look like she thought he was messing with her, [You'd never mentioned your family before, at least not until that Uncle that popped up... What's going on? Why are all these guys popping up out of the wood-work suddenly?]
[My father was the one who brought Uncle Mimi to the skating rink in St. Petersburg, remember? He didn't say anything at the time, and just went off to read a newspaper, but that was him back then, too.]
Realization dawned on the woman, and she quickly peeked back through the curtain, squinting that eye to try and focus on the hulking figure a bit better, [...I don't remember him at all. I just remember your Yuri falling on the ice, freaking ou-...oh.] She pulled the curtain closed again, and stood upright, pausing for a moment before turning to look at the silver skater squarely, [I get it.]
Yuri watched her closely. He hadn't understood a word of what had been said, outside the mention of a few names, but he had a feeling the lady-skater was still piecing things together. However, like that night in Barcelona, almost a year to the day...when he had practically seen the math equations floating through Phichit's head at the mention of a particular pair of matching rings...he saw the same thing happening to Mila. That quickly changed though...the woman's expression got rather dark, and Yuri could see how her hands trembled where she clenched her fists at her side.
Without a word, and without even realizing what was happening until after it was over, Yuri felt Viktor reach out towards the woman with one arm, quick as lightning, and dragged both her and himself a few feet away from the curtain. With Mila squished to his front, and his arms flailing out to the side, Yuri was in the middle of a weird Russian sandwich. It was a mercy that he was a few inches taller than the woman squashed to his front. It would've been horrendously nerve-wracking if she had been taller than him instead.
[Don't say anything.] Viktor warned, both hands now bypassing his uncomfortably-compressed husband so he could hold them to Mila's back, making sure she didn't wiggle free and go on a hunt in front of the entire audience, [It's nothing.]
[He's the one that hit you, isn't he?] She asked darkly, [When you said you'd been in a car accident.] Her arms were heavy at her sides, and she held her face in a downward tilt, staring at the scarf where it lay folded over Yuri's shoulder, [I knew back then, without a doubt, that someone had hurt you. I warned you at the Banquet that something like this would happen, but you still refused to confirm it when we suspected...]
[Please don't make a scene,] The older Russian begged, [I can't afford to have everyone climbing into my personal life right n-]
The crowd suddenly burst into a thunderous roar; a stark contrast to the polite clapping of a few moments before. It completely drowned Viktor's words out, and his eyes went wide as he realized that was likely his cue to go out there. Without time to even think, all he could do was abruptly let both skaters go so he could reach down and pull his blade-guards off.
Yuri felt them get roughly pressed into his ill-prepared hand, losing his grip on one as Viktor vanished quickly through the curtain without a word. The ruffle of the curtain and the hard thwak of the plastic hitting the ground seemed like the crack of a whip.
Mila was still stuck close to him, but she quickly regained her senses and touched a hand to the skater's arm as she knelt down to grab the rubber skate-cover and give it over to join the pair back together. As she rose back up to her normal height, she could see the anxious look on the Japanese figure's face turning to worry, and then outright dread. The explosive cheering of the crowd certainly didn't help with the contrast of conflicting emotions. Not knowing what else to do, she reached her arms over his and hugged him, "Be strong. He'll be fine."
Yuri just swallowed nervously and let it happen, keeping his eyes low, watching the last rustle of the curtain where it was finally coming to hang motionless again.
"Konichiwaaaa~!" Viktor's voice echoed throughout the stadium, his normally cheerful affect coming across as weird in that moment, "O-genki desu kaaaa~?"
"Genki da yooooo~!" The audience roared back, interspersed with a few people simply yelling 'Haaaai~!' or 'Genki deeeeesu~!'
"Sou ka, sou ka!" Viktor answered back, sliding around the rink with calm and ease, pulling up his free hand to his chin, "Keikaku doori~!" He laughed, "I think that's about the limits of my Japanese right now..." He spun on his gold blade to face the big crane-mounted camera in the corner of the rink, and winked at it as he put his free hand on his hip, the other holding up the microphone, "Gomen ne?"
The audience went wild to see it, and the Russian did his best to soak up the positive energy before turning back around to face them again. Just as he kicked off with a toe-pick, he spotted Yuri and Mila sneaking behind the crane to get back to where Yuri had been sitting a few minutes prior. Unfortunately, to look at the camera and then turn in the direction of the coaches' seats, he couldn't help but look in the direction of his father, and saw those icy blue eyes following him. The image of that man sitting in the audience was like a scene from a nightmare, but Viktor knew it was real and actually happening, so all he could do was try and act natural.
I wanted this, didn't I?
He skated away from the man, blades scratching along the nearly-pristine ice, "After traveling to all these other events for the last month...Skate Canada, Trophée de France, Cup of China, and now the NHK Trophy, it's really and truly an amazing feeling to finally be back in Japan. Even though I'm still wearing this jacket..." He pulled a little on the collar of his team blazer, puffing out the chest a little where the big R and U letters were emblazoned in red and white against that field of black, "...I feel like Japan has truly become my home now. And all this is possible because of..." He extended his hand out towards where his husband was finally retaking his seat.
All eyes turned towards where the young Asian skater had tried to sneak in, and in a heartbeat, Yuri felt them all descending on him at once.
"YURI!" The audience yelled together.
If the stunned skater had a hat on, it would've been blown off the top of his head by the energy of the crowd's enthusiasm. It was even stranger when he heard the echoes of a chant creeping up in the wake of that initial holler, until Viktor could do nothing but raise his arms up repeatedly where he slid along the ice, egging the chanting on.
"Yuri! Yuri! Yuri!"
"Oh jeeze..." He whined quietly, trying to smile as he waved back at them all, finding it thoroughly and incredibly daunting considering the closest audience to him included Konstantin. He dared not look at the man, for fear of how that probably-angry face might be looking back at him.
Mila spared him the ongoing anxiety by pulling him up from the seat he'd barely managed to get into, and pushed him forward to the rink wall just ahead of him. All around, people were clapping and cheering, many still chanting his name. Before he could even draw another breath, he felt his glasses being pulled off his face, and fingers go through his hair, holding gently to the back of his head.
"Mh, yes, Yuri." Viktor purred into the microphone, giving him the 'eyes on me alone' look, "The ISU has gotten a lot of miles out of us this season already, sending us to all but two GP Series events."
Yuri watched in thorough confusion, What's he even saying right now? He wondered, blinking as the nonsense-speaking Russian fit those blue-rimmed glasses over his own eyes...and then abruptly felt Mila pushing him up against the rink wall, "Wh-what in th...what!? Why are you guys-" Before he knew it, his feet had been shoved right over the top of the wall, and Viktor had moved in to gather him up in his arms, dropping the microphone against his chest as he started skating off towards the middle of the rink.
"Hold up the mic for me." Viktor whispered, the cool air of the rink blowing past them both as he went down the long end of the arena.
Nearly dropping it in the scramble, Yuri did as told, fumbling with all-thumbs to get his hands around the plastic device.
"Turn it around."
"Eh?" The younger skater blinked, realizing that in his haste, he'd held the thing up upside-down, and quickly spun it around, much to Viktor's amusement.
"There." The Russian spoke into the device, getting even more cheers as he started the wide curve around the short end of the rink, coming back up the other way soon after, "It wasn't part of the plan, but I like this better."
"Viktuuri! Viktuuri!" The chant began anew.
Yuri finally started to regain his senses, blinking strongly a few times and then looking around again. When he got back to looking at his partner, he realized the man had gathered him up the way he had so suddenly, as a way of cancelling out the bear's laser-focus. The gruff old man didn't even matter anymore; the ice was their domain, and as long as they were on it together, nothing could touch them.
Everything on the ice is love.
With a deep breath, the hapless skater tilted the mic towards himself, "Thank you, Sapporo, for your warm welcome! And thank you, everyone in Japan, and in Hasetsu especially, for cheering us both on as we traverse the world for this Grand Prix of Figure Skating!"
The crowd screamed and clapped excitedly to hear the anxious man's voice.
"The ISU decided to show mercy on us after this last month and a half of constant globe-trotting, by letting me and now us give the closing statements of these Opening Ceremonies." Viktor spoke as well, coming to a spinning-stop in the center of the arena, standing directly over the event-logo built into the ice, "So while we've already had two fantastic Short Programs today, it gives me great pleasure to officially commemorate the start of the NHK Trophy, the last qualifying event of the Grand Prix Series before the Final next weekend!" He tilted his arms to gently set his husband's feet on the frozen flooring, and rested his arm over the man's shoulders proudly, "Let's do this thing!"
"Ikimashou!"