CHAPTER TWO HUNDRED SEVENTY ONE
Yurio made sure to keep out of sight, but was still close enough to the rink-side doorway that he could keep an eye on who was coming and going. He'd avoided leaving the participants' area to go do his post-SP interviews for wanting to watch Otabek's show, and was waiting for the Kazakh to stick his head into the Player's Club since after his own performance. His ears were caught though, as people were starting to clap and cheer as the next competitor was making his way to that same doorway.
Viktor made quick work of his track-suit jacket, handing it to his partner as they quickly went through the club to get out to rink-side. Blade-guards thunk'd along the wood flooring as they made their way past the other skaters and coaches. They could already hear the sound of the crowd calling the Russian's name as the cozy-closeness of the lounge area morphed into the open, airy expanse of the coliseum-like arena.
"Up next, skating for Russia...Viktor Nikiforov!"
The audience went wild with cheers and applause, and the silver legend hopped on one foot towards the rink entrance, all while simultaneously trying to get the rubber bar off the blade on the other, and waving at the fans at the same time. By the time he stumbled past where Yakov had been standing, waiting for him to make an appearance, Viktor was clinging to the rink wall with one arm as he tried to figure out why the second blade-guard wasn't coming off.
Yuri had briefly been congratulating Otabek on his score as the two skaters passed each other, but when he looked back towards his idol, quirked a brow at the man's awkward struggle. He shook his head and smiled as he leaned in to push his husband's hand out of the way and unlatch the metal hook that had gotten flipped back over the extended blade of the heel. Flicking the rubber guard down with a finger afterwards, the skater stood back upright, only to spot an amused look on the Russian's face, "...Nani?"
"Nandemonai." The silver figure smirked, though his eyes looked on adoringly as he stood fully upright and launched himself out onto the ice.
Screams and cheers made the arena shake with excitement, and the chant of a few people calling out the Russian's name bubbled under the thunderous wave of applause. It was almost as urgent as the name-chanting that rose up at the end of the skater's previous Free Program, where the volume had increased in tandem with the Russian's slowly-rising hands. It was a cacophony that even made a certain bear think twice and look aside.
Viktor made a long arc, almost to the middle of the rink before turning around to come back to the rink wall. He quickly reached for the lanyard and badge still hanging around his neck, and pulled it over his head, leaning forward to put it over his spouse's instead, but then held there a moment, hands still on the ribbon.
The pause was strange, and the younger figure blinked in confusion, "...Viktor?"
Slate eyes stayed low where the Russian's fingers still grasped at the lanyard, but he closed those eyes and huffed a laugh as he shook his head, "Just some déjà vu. It was like before, when I put the Silver around your shoulders, and you convinced me to stay on for another year." He let the ribbon go then, letting the badge drift down to dangle overtop of Yuri's own, and reached instead for his husband's right hand. Weaving their fingers together, he curled that arm up and around, and leaned his face down to touch his lips to the gold ring, "Hanarezu ni soba ni ite yo, Yuri."
"...Are you trying to arouse me or something with all this Japanese?" The younger figure asked nervously, "Cuz you're getting there."
Viktor just laughed, and leaned forward to kiss the man quickly, nuzzling his forehead fondly for a moment, "Tabun."
"Sou ko nakuccha."
"...Aaaand you lost me."
"AHEM." Yakov chortled, "Vitya, get out there before they start the music without you."
Yuri was stiff as a board at the sound of the elder Russian's gruff voice, and he could swear he'd found a way to look even more pale than he already did given his partner's make-up handiwork. But Viktor just laughed again, stole a brief kiss, and finally took off, blades scratching at the ice as he quickly made his way towards center, waving one last time before taking his spot.
A fog of frost kicked up where the Russian braked, and he raised his right hand to touch his lips to the gold on his finger before moving that arm out behind himself, the left rising up in front. The right toe-pick went into the ice to hold him still, and a second or two later, the music roared out above him.
['History Maker' - Dean Fujioka]
Yurio turned his eyes from the screen as he spotted Otabek finally coming through the doors, even as Viktor was flying across the ice behind him.
Can you hear my heartbeat?
Tired of feeling never enough.
"That was really good. Everyone's going to have a hard time beating that score." The blonde commented.
I close my eyes and tell myself,
That my dreams will come true.
The crowd was cheering for what was likely a top-scoring quad Flip.
There'll be no more darkness when you believe in yourself, you are unstoppable.
Where your destiny lies, dancing on the blades...
"Oh, you watched the whole thing? I thought you might've gone to do your post-skate interviews or something." The dark-eyed Kazakh commented, wiping the side of his neck on a small towel slung over his shoulder.
Viktor twisted over himself before sliding down onto one knee, thrusting his right hand forward, reaching for where Yuri was watching nearby to Yakov at the coach's side of the rink.
You set my heart on fire!
Yurio shrugged, "Nah. I figured they could wait until after you were done, so I just came back here and watched on the big screens."
The silver Russian twisted around before getting too close, and veered off for the nearest corner of the rink, starting into his serpentine step sequence.
Don't stop us now, the moment of truth,
We were, born to make History!
"You're not going to try to talk to Yuri while Viktor's busy?" Otabek wondered, stepping closer as he was intending to go on towards the den of reporters waiting outside, "It'll be your only shot to get him alone."
The teen cringed a little, but tried not to show it, "Katsudon isn't the problem." He turned his eyes towards the nearest wall bearing a television, and watched his fellow Russian tearing up the rink with his impeccable footwork; twists, turns, drags, half-revolution fake-out jumps...the man's figure moved like the living embodiment of calligraphy on the ice.
We'll make it happen, we'll turn it around,
Yes, we were born to make History!
Otabek was looking up at the screen as well, but then turned back to his younger friend, "I'll watch these later tonight."
Yurio turned back, nodded, and skipped off to tag along, hands stuffed into his pockets and hood pulled over his head as he practically skulked out of the Player's Club. Phichit watched them both go from where he was stretching out near the bar counter, Celestino sitting close by. He just smiled nervously as the pair stepped out through the glass doors and made a quick right-turn, heading out towards the larger hall where most of the press had set up. Those dark brown eyes went back up towards the screen, watching Viktor's Short Program progressing into the next phase.
Born to make History!
The step sequence had transitioned into the Russian's first required rotational move; the sit spin, with flying entry. He was already halfway through it by then, switching from a twist variant with an arm up to a catch-foot, holding onto his left skate where that leg was bent under the right.
B-b-born to make History!
"It's completely different from how he was at NHK." The Thai skater sighed dramatically, trying to keep his spirits up despite the pressure, "I mean, even back then it was still good, even if it looked like he was super distracted and missed all his quads..."
"Don't focus so much on the others, Phichit." Celestino advised, "You'll get yourself all psyched out like Yuri used to."
"It's the first time either of us has competed in Detroit since Yuri nearly retired before." Phichit said, leaning forward against the counter as he continued to watch, "I told him once, back in the day, that I'd do 'Shall We Skate' at some big event, and he'd be there, too... It seems like so long ago now."
"That was last year." Ciao Ciao leveled him a deadpanned expression, "It wasn't that long ago."
"Long enough ago that both of those big things are just memories now, not goals." The skater answered, "I have a reputation to uphold now. I managed to get into the Final because of JJ's mistake, so I feel like the pressure is on even more than normal, just so people don't think it was a waste of time to let me in when the ISU could've just as easily said no, and left the Men's event at 5 participants."
Can you hear my heartbeat?
Viktor twisted, the eyes of the entire arena watching every tiny movement. His arms were up and expressive, wide open where they touched to the center of his chest and expanded away.
I've got a feeling, it's never too late.
His right leg came back behind himself, and he arched over as far as he could go, arms still up above his head even as his frame tilted through the layback Ina Bauer. Gliding across the ice like mist, Viktor leaned back up, twisted his feet to face forward, crouched lightly...and vaulted high, soaring through a double-tano triple Axel and landing with the grace of the event's most experienced legs. The audience applauded excitedly, no doubt appreciating the difficult entry.
I close my eyes and see myself,
How my dreams will come true.
The silver legend dipped low, skating backwards into a long hydro-blade, arms out to either side like wings.
There'll be no more darkness when you believe in yourself, you are unstoppable.
The free blade came down at the end of it, forcing the reverse-course into a tighter formation, and settling the skater into a broken-leg sit spin, left arm straight up into the air above himself as he spun like a top. The sit-spin changed as the Russian started to rise up, arms coming around himself with the increasing speed of the scratch-spin variant.
Where your destiny lies, dancing on the blades,
Having started the spin on his left skate, the silver-and-blue blur used the upright position as an excuse to switch feet, reaching down for that self-same blade to pull it up behind his head for the Biellmann spin. He held onto it with the left hand, right going towards the center of his chest.
You set my heart on fire!
His right hand went out, and he let go of the blade, descending that skate back to the ice to finish the spin in a tight inside spread-eagle, both arms rising up to the rafters.
Don't stop us now, the moment of truth,
We were, born to make History!
"Phichit...?"
The enthralled athlete quickly jerked his head around, surprised at the unexpected voice, and spotting a certain former soldier there behind where he'd been standing. The woman, petite as she was, was easily 10x more intimidating than any of the men's singles skaters, and Phichit was immediately nervous again, "...C-Celeste...!"
Viktor continued his program on the televisions behind the anxious Thai skater's head.
We'll make it happen, we'll turn it around,
Yes, we were born to make History!
"Oh hey, there's a face I haven't seen in ages." Celestino mused, swiveling on his bar stood slightly.
"It's good to see the both of you." The medic smiled and waved at the older man, then turning to the younger, "I somehow missed you in all the craziness of yesterday night. It's good to see you again, Phichit. Congrats as well on making it to the Final, strange as the circumstances may be."
Born to make History!
B-b-born to make History!
The skater nodded and bowed his head politely, "Same, and thanks."
"I'm sorry to admit, but I thought you'd already be out at rink-side." Tess said pensively, arms held loosely behind her back, "I came down thinking I could wish Yuri good luck before he goes out at the end...but I'm not sure how much of last night he remembers, if anything. I don't want to give him another heart-attack like when I ran into him before his accident."
Don't stop us now, the moment of truth,
We were, born to make History!
The skater before her nodded restlessly, "He...kind of remembers." He tried to explain, his voice suddenly cut off by the explosion of cheers just outside, where Viktor had just landed his quad Lutz, triple Toe-loop combo. Phichit regained his focus and tried to calm his frantic heart, "What I mean is...Yuri knows you're around. He doesn't remember exactly how or why, or what happened, but he knows for sure that you're here."
We'll make it happen, we'll turn it around,
Yes, we were born to make History!
"Is he here in the Player's Club and I'm just blind?" The woman looked around a bit, not seeing the Asian.
"He's out at rink-side." The Thai athlete explained, "He's Viktor's 'not-really-a-coach,' so he hangs out where the real coaches would stand." He turned and pointed at the television, holding for a moment before the camera panned enough that the two dark figures could be seen against the royal blue backdrop, in the background behind the current performer. Viktor was in the midst of his final required element, the camel spin.
Don't stop us now, the moment of truth,
"Ah, there...you can see him near Yakov." Phichit said, pointing at the dot leaning against the rink-wall.
We were, born to make History!
We'll make it happen, we'll turn it around,
Tess looked on, but then nodded nervously and twisted on her curved metal leg to step towards the exit, "Thanks...I'll be right back."
The Thai athlete waved weakly as the former soldier moved off, feeling his heart finally starting to go back to a normal pace as she left ear-shot and he could breathe again. He slouched against the counter and heaved a deep sigh, "...Such...an intense aura..."
"You going to be okay?" Celestino laughed.
Yes, we were born to make History!
The medic looked around at the awe-inspiring view of the packed stadium, but then glanced lower at the ice, where the oft-spoken-of legendary Russian skater was finishing his Short Program.
We were born to make History!
The camel spin had ended, and Viktor was making wide arcs around the rink again. Moving backwards, he'd move his hands in forward wave-like gestures, as though his arms were guiding his path along the ice, bringing them up and down or out to the sides of himself.
We were born to make History!
Tess could tell it was almost the end of the performance just by the way the music sounded, and she paused where she stood near the Player's Club gateway, holding back for the moment. She looked slightly to the right where she knew Yuri would've been standing from the television, and spotted him looking on at the ice intently. The gruff Russian coach standing nearby was just as fixated, but for entirely different reasons.
Yes, we were born to make History!
As the last few lines of the song rang out, Viktor twizzled, and then clapped his toe-pick down into the ice, stopping abruptly and thrusting both arms out to the side. He lifted his head towards the audience, silver hair tousling above his eye, barely holding to their show-style from before the performance.
When the crowd rose out of their seats and cheered, no doubt many of them having watched the NHK performance that came the weekend before, the volume in the auditorium rose to a roar. Viktor held his position for a few more seconds, then bent his right arm forward towards his chest and bowed, the left still outstretched. Poodle plush toys, flowers, even the odd nigiri pillows were all thrown out as gifts to the Russian, and the young local skaters started flocking out again to gather everything up.
Yuri was still clapping when the skater started making his way back towards the rink exit, and had the man's blade guards in-hand to pass over. Yakov slowly meandered that way as well, watching his former student get close and start slipping the rubber bars onto his blades, then his arms into his dark-colored team jacket.
"You looked way more relaxed this time around." The younger skater commented, reaching for his husband's hand as the man stepped off the ice.
"Da, it was way different than NHK, that's for certain," Viktor agreed, "I'll never question the impact of a mid-performance panic attack again after what happened to me there."
"Did you at least have fun this time?"
"Of course." He pulled his partner's hand up and kissed the ring, then pointed towards the kiss and cry area, "Let's head over. I might've enjoyed myself out there but it was still exhausting."
Yuri nodded and reached for the Russian's water bottle as well, snatching it from the rink wall before moving off.
"Cousin Viktor skated way better this time," Nikkita commented idly, setting her hands down into her lap as the audience simmered down to wait for the scores, "He's going to win, right?" She leaned forward a bit to glance past the people who were sitting between herself and those with more skate-viewing experience.
Minako looked on at the ice anxiously, but smiling, "Everyone skating tonight so far is in top form...it's hard to rule anyone out, even with Viktor in the roster." She commented, though her smile faded as she looked on to where Yuri was taking his place on the bench.
"He looks nervous." Mari commented suddenly, though quietly, "Everyone who's gone out already has scored higher than the person who went before."
"I doubt anyone else will score higher than Viktor now." Minako added.
"Yuri will expect that, too. He's still gonna take it hard." The elder Katsuki pointed out, turning her head slightly to look at the woman next to her more evenly, "You know him as well as I do. He won't let himself accept that any shortcomings are from how he's hurt. He'll take the blame for it personally."
"Maybe not..." The ballerina hoped, "You could tell from the warm-up that he's taking Viktor's instructions more seriously than he did earlier this morning. If he scores low, he may just accept that as the consequence of his coach's orders to tone things down a bit."
"It's crazy that Viktor is letting him skate at all right now." Mari sighed, "Mom and dad are going to be watching this thing live just to make sure they know right away if he got hurt again or not."
"Well, at least it's not some crazy-early time in the middle of the night." Minako offered.
Phichit and Celestino were making their way out towards rink-side by then, everyone waiting on the judges and technical review panel to come back with their final score for the Russian's performance. The Thai skater shrugged out of his team jacket, rubbing the sleeves on his arms where the cold of the ice was creeping in, and glanced over to the kiss and cry.
Yuri could feel his heart pounding in his chest, every second making it harder and harder to stay patient. He drew in a deep but nervous breath, settling his left hand onto his husband's thigh to try and ground himself, even as the Russian had an arm over his shoulders while they waited.
"You're more nervous for the score than I am." Viktor mused, "Don't worry so much."
"I can't help it. Worrying is in my genes." The younger figure answered, looking down at where his ankles were crossed, legs straight out in front of him where he sat. He tried to find the humor in it though, and sat up a little bit straighter, turning to look at his partner and smirking wryly, "Just like how apparently stripping while drunk is, too."
"I've heard these legends about your father's drunken exploits, but I've yet to see them with my own eyes."
"He's gotten better with age." Yuri agreed, "Though I wouldn't recommend putting the idea in his head when we get back home."
"Maybe I should anyway, just to see how you react." Viktor laughed, pulling his partner a little closer in jest.
Yakov, meanwhile, sat with his arms crossed, looking entirely unimpressed where he waited on the skater's opposite side.
"The score for Viktor Nikiforov..."
Yuri suddenly brought both hands up towards his mouth, curling his fingers over into fists, peeking over the edge of them with baited breath.
"...111.46."
"Eh...not bad." Viktor huffed, "I'll take it."
"Everyone keeps scoring higher and higher..." The younger figure said hesitantly, "If it keeps up like this, Phichit-kun is gonna get 115, but then I'll..."
"You'll score over 122, and break my World record again." The silver Russian cut him off.
"...With all my triple jumps? Pssht..."
"If you don't score over 122 here, then I'll just make sure you do at Nationals." Viktor said as he stood up, pulling his husband along as he went, "Take the hit today and come back stronger next time."
"Next to take the ice tonight, representing Thailand...Phichit...Chulanont!"
The audience cheered excitedly for the unexpected contender, and watched happily as he flung himself out onto the white stage, making a few rounds around center as he waved.
"You're not going to be at my Nationals though..." Yuri pointed out, looking from his friend to his husband again, "Or did you suddenly change your mind about your own?"
"Well, no. It's like Yakov said last year...if I want to go to Euros, I need to go to Nationals, so I can't just skip out again. I don't really have an excuse this time." The silver skater retorted, the three of them making their way back towards the doorway to the under-arena lounge area, coming up to where Celestino was waiting for Phichit to come back around, "Wouldn't you like that though? To go to Euros? It's in Austria this year, so it'd be a great place to get our feet wet if we still want to go to Germany over the summer. It would be a whole new experience, getting to sit and watch the other skaters and never having to worry about how you would've compared because you're not part of the European bloc."
"Isn't that how it's been when I go to your Grand Prix qualifiers?"
"Not really. It's just different locations for the same basic event. When I went to Four Continents with you, it was a completely new experience for me. Being so utterly and completely separate from the Asian bloc made the whole event feel different!" Viktor explained excitedly, "It was like going to a different planet!"
"...That's so dramatic..." Yuri muttered, a sarcastic smile on his face, though pausing where he stood and coming out from under the Russian's arm, "Are you going straight to the media frenzy?"
"Sure."
"I'm going to stay and watch Phichit-kun then. I'll see you back when I'm about to go out?"
"Of course." Viktor stepped closer then, reaching his right hand up to touch his curved fingers to the side of his partner's cheek, "Don't get into trouble while I'm gone. It'll only be a few minutes."
"I won't! I'll stay right here until it's my turn."
Those slate eyes looked on, but the Russian huffed a quiet laugh and nodded, leaning forward to steal yet another quick kiss before moving off, "Just a few minutes."
"Nothing is going to happen!"
"What's going to happen?" Phichit suddenly asked, appearing almost from thin air as he came up on the icy side of the rink wall.
"Nothing is going to happen!" Yuri insisted, then twisting back to his spouse, "Now go before you start those interviews so late that you can't get back in time!" He started making 'shoo' gestures with his hands.
"Okay okay." The Russian laughed, taking a few steps away.
The younger figure finally turned around to face his Thai friend, "You'd think the stadium roof was going to collapse right on top of me or something if he leaves for five seco-aahh!"
The silver legend was back again, sneaking up behind the tense Japanese skater with both arms around his thin frame, managing to get three or four kisses on that pale neck before Yuri's arms were up too high in his surprised flailing to continue. Just as quickly as he'd come though, the Russian was laughing and skipping off again, leaving Yuri in a stunned disheveled mess at rink-side with both Phichit and Celestino smirking at his expense.
"V-Viktor-" The skater stammered, watching his quite-pleased-with-himself spouse trotting off towards the lounge doorway a second time. He reached a hand up to rub at the wet spots the man had left on his skin, and felt the heat on his face where he knew his cheeks had gone red.
"I love you, Yuri!" The Russian was waving, half-through the doorway.
"I...I love you too, Viktor..." Yuri said, though much more quietly than his partner had hollered. He turned a third time towards the competitor on the ice, "Sorry...I wanted to say good luck before you went out. I wasted all your wall time."
"It was fun to watch. I wish I could've taken pictures."
"Yeah..." The older figure reached a hand up behind his head nervously, "Well, you should get out there before they start the music without you like they almost did with him." He nudged a head towards where Viktor was still loitering in the doorway for some reason, "Ganbatte, ne?"
Phichit nodded his head, looking between both the men on the other side of the wall, "Khob khun krab."
.
.
.
Nani? = What?
Nandemonai = Nothing
Hanarezu ni soba ni ite yo = Don't leave my side/Stay close to me
Tabun = Probably/Maybe
Sou ko nakuccha = That's what I thought/As expected
Ganbatte, ne? = Good luck, okay?
Khob khun krab = Thank you