CHAPTER TWO HUNDRED NINETY NINE
While the audience cheered and hollered for the unexpected turn of events, the Japanese anthem playing through the arena, minds more familiar with the athletes involved were brooding.
It was an easy thing for Viktor to give up the Gold, but he really didn't think this through.
He couldn't have just offered the gesture to Yuri in private and not put his career at risk?
Typical Viktor...always doing the unexpected...
Would he have done this if Yuri hadn't won Silver on his own?
THAT * $% VIKTOR, WHAT THE & #$ WERE YOU ^&#$ ING THINKING!?
Yuri's not going to be happy with this once he's had a chance to process it.
With the anthem coming to an end, the three skaters on the podium came down, sliding across the arena to collect the flags as they lowered down again from on high, slinging them over their shoulders like a cape or just carrying them, as they began their victory lap around the rink. Yuri had the Japanese flag over his shoulders, trying to hold onto it as well as he could while still holding the bouquet of flowers in one arm. The Gold hanging in front of his chest was still a difficult sight for him to accept as he made his trip around the ice, pausing now and again to bow or nod. By the time he made the full circuit, he tiptoed over the red carpet still strewn out over the frost, but paused there, looking at where Viktor was still clapping happily at the whole sight.
There's no way this thing will go over without consequences. Viktor... Was this because of all the jokes I made about intending to win, even knowing you likely would?
Yuri sighed and shook his head, but then swapped arms for the bouquet and extended the other out for his partner, offering half the width of the flag to the Russian, "Come do the victory lap with me."
"...Are you sure?" Viktor wondered hesitantly, "I don't have a medal."
"As though technicalities ever stopped you from doing what you want. Come on." Yuri nudged his arm again, "You said we won this thing together, so we'll celebrate together, too. No half-measures."
The legend smiled, but shook his head as he stepped forward, pulling his half of the flag over his shoulders as he snaked one arm behind his partner's back, "I guess you're right. I never did follow the rules completely."
The Players Club was awash with whispers and clapping still, many mystified at the circumstances...but none more so than the RSF reporters. While their cameras didn't entirely pull off of the 'co-Gold-medalists' when the duo passed, they focused instead on their Bronze winner, lenses following Yurio around the rink. When a certain despondent elder finally tried coming back down to the lounge like before, having had his few minutes of sitting in the snow to feel sorry for himself and reflect, he paused in the doorway, none too far away from the reporters who had held back to wait for the interview segment, gossiping amongst themselves. He didn't hear the whole conversation, but he heard enough to give the three closest to him dirty looks before stepping through the doorway. The other two were at rink-side with the rest of the media, recording the event.
It wasn't hard to find his two silver daughters, as they'd been pushed back inside the Club by the sportscasting gaggle, and they'd settled to watch the rest of things from the bar area, looking on at the televisions. Mikhail stepped up behind their two chairs at the counter, and brought an arm up against the back of each, leaning into the chair on the left and catching the two teens' attention in the process.
"Sorry for earlier." He said simply, "I'm dealing with some things."
Nikki was reserved, looking to her older sister to ask the one question they wanted an answer to.
Viktoria nodded and leaned back in her seat, "Just say if you're really going to call off the move to Japan or not."
The elder shook his head, "Nothing has changed, except maybe in how involved Minako is. That's up to her though."
"Then why didn't you just say so to Cousin Viktor earlier?" Nikki finally spoke up, "You've had Yura freaking out about it. He thinks you're going to ditch him."
Mikhail drew a breath, "I didn't say anything because I wasn't thinking about it. It never occurred to me to walk back my promises to anyone."
"You should probably tell him then."
"I will, as soon as he's off the ice and done with things."
Viktoria crossed her arms and gave a stern look, "As soon as he comes off the ice. If you make him wait till the end of the interviews, when he has to walk by you to get there, he's just going to worry even more."
"Alright alright...! I'll tell him as soon as I see him!"
The lights in the arena dimmed to near-total darkness after the victory lap, and Viktor pulled back again to let Yuri skate on his own for the group-photos. The media and ISU press were lined up along the red rolled-out carpet, waiting for the skaters to approach with their flags and flowers and medals. The silver Russian branched off to slide along the rink wall, finding his phone being tossed out to him by the ever-faithful Chris, and quickly went down to join the end of the line like the giant Yuri Fanboy that he was. As the official victory photos were taken by the sports press, the excitable Russian took a slew of his own, even as the other photographers found his antics somewhat distracting. Having a figure skater in their own midst was...not something that generally happened.
It wasn't long before the skaters started coming back into the Players Club, still carrying their rewards and looking rather happy despite the rest. The media and all the fellow skaters and coaches were applauding them as they stepped from frost to concrete, blade guards put back into place and arms slipping into jacket sleeves. Without hesitation, Yuri pulled his husband along by the hand towards the waiting frenzy beyond the further set of doors, bypassing the Rozovsky trio as though he hadn't noticed them sitting there. Yurio followed after with Otabek, though they held back a bit, knowing they had to wait their turn and choosing to wait in the lounge until it was their time. Unlike the Nikiforovs, Yurio and Otabek both spotted the silver triumvirate almost immediately, and made their way closer without a word.
Mikhail saw the look in the teen's eyes, and immediately put those anxieties to rest, "We're still going. Don't worry."
The relief was palpable, and Yurio could sense his knees threatening to give out, but he caught himself, and his breath, "You need to manage your shit better so you don't make everyone else worried, too."
"Well, if Viktor hadn't come af-mphfmphr-"
"NO." All three teens were on him, hands wrapped around his face and head, "THIS WAS ALL YOU."
Beady white eyes blinked in shock through the mass of arms and teen angst, Mikhail eventually just grumbled and relented.
Interviewers were throwing questions from all sides, making it hard to hear them all, or even answer half of them. The biggest and most important question, though...that was obvious.
"Viktor Nikiforov...what were you thinking?"
The silver legend just laughed nervously, all but hiding behind his partner where he hugged the man from behind in his usual way, one arm clinging to the skater's side while the other curled up under an arm to latch onto the front of one shoulder, "Yuri deserved the Gold more than I did, that's all." He tried to explain, "I came into this season thinking I'd be scaling back the difficulty level of my programs, and then I belted out a new World Record for the Free Skate... I just skated the program that I meant to from the beginning. If not for Yuri's injury, he would've easily scored higher than I did."
"So was this forfeiture of the Gold to him your way of officially announcing your retirement?"
"No way. I'm going through the rest of the season like normal." He answered, trying to look towards each of the cameras pointed at him for at least a few seconds before moving on to the next, even catching sight of the RSF camera from slightly behind the group, with the commentator speaking in front of it, but neither making any particular move to get closer, "I've even toyed with the idea of going again next season just for the fun of it, and see how far I can make it on mostly artistic merit, rather than stacking my programs with difficult jumps."
"Yuri, how do you feel about this turn of events? Not just regarding the obvious fact of the matter...but since you two live together, Viktor just gave up a hefty sum of prize money that you both would've shared."
The younger skater smiled, and had his mouth moving to open...only to suddenly feel his spouse's jaw hit his shoulder in stunned horror.
"OH NO." Viktor gaped, eyes wide in realization. Hands clenched to the crinkly fabric of the Team Japan jacket, and he buried his face against his partner's back, as though trying to hide.
Yuri just shook his head and drew in a sighed breath, reaching up with one hand to pat the one that was up near his left shoulder, "We don't plan our finances around the expectation that we'll both bring home a certain amount of prize money. If we did, then sure, this would be a pretty big hit...but we've both done pretty well so far this season, and there's still Four Continents, Euros, Worlds...and the Olympics coming up. We'll skate as well as we know how and try again."
"I'm sure the JSF will be happy to see that you're bringing home Gold after all, Yuri. But what do you think the RSF will think about your bold move tonight, Viktor?"
The silver legend lifted his head from where he'd hidden it behind his spouse's neck, and glanced over that shoulder, spotting those very Russian representatives from a moment before, pulling their camera away and moving off. He grimaced slightly, but ignored it, "I've brought home dozens of medals over the course of my career. Before I took some time to be a coach, I had just won my...what...25th-or-so straight Gold medal from major international competitions? And I've been winning at Russian Nationals for as long as I can remember, plus several smaller competitions. Considering it was never certain that I was even going to be competing this year...they're still gaining 2 new Gold medals and a handful of new World Records. I think they can forgive me for this one. These were extenuating circumstances."
Those last words rattled around in Yuri's head like a marble, making most of the rest of the interview pass in a fog. Even the 30-odd minutes they spent taking pictures with fans or signing autographs was a haze. But, things eventually started to phase down, and the skaters filtered back into the Players Club to change and pack up their things for the ride back to the hotel.
Yuri clicked down the last buckle on the side of their big shared rolling suitcase, and lifted up the telescoping handle. One last check on his jacket and scarf to make sure they were both fastened and smartly in place, and he set a hand on the top of the grip, turning to see if his partner was ready.
"Do you want to try for Campus Martius again tonight?" Viktor wondered, looping the last button through on the front of his long coat, "Since I kind of ruined it yesterday."
"Do you want to?"
"Mmhh..."
"There's nothing wrong with a quiet end to the night. We've done a lot today."
"That actually sounds like a good idea." Viktor agreed, pulling one of his gear bags up onto a shoulder to free up that hand, thumbing at his phone while his other arm went over his partner's shoulders, "I wonder if Yurio's still around? We haven't had a chance to talk to him about the Exhibition thing."
"Oh, he's over there." Yuri lifted one hand and pointed, catching sight of the teen amidst most of the rest of the crew by the doors leading to the great outdoors, sans Minako and Mari, "I guess they're waiting."
Viktor grit his teeth a bit, spotting his uncle in the midst, but supposed that, for better or worse, the rest of the group seemed to be in decent spirits again, "I wonder if he's set things straight."
"...Eh?"
"Mikhail."
"...Oh." Hazel eyes turned again to look at the aforementioned elder, "He doesn't seem to be talking a lot."
"Maybe he's already said enough."
The two looked at one another for a moment, trying to decide what to do...but it seemed that would be decided for them, when through the calmer simmer of what few fans and event staffers were still loitering around the building, a familiar voice cut through the noise, "Yuuuri~!"
The entire wing seemed to lift their collective heads, only to turn them towards center where the pair of inconspicuous athletes had paused in their walk. Yuri's eye twitched with his nervous smile as he realized everyone was staring, and he quickly spun around on one foot to look at the ballerina who'd hollered at him, "Minako-sensei!"
She twirled and held out her banner, oddly reminiscent of their first reunion after the skater's unsung return home. This banner had been specially made in the event that he'd won Gold though, "I was worried I wouldn't get to show this one off! I've been toting it around since your very first event!"
"...Even though Viktor was competing...?"
Minako threw the banner overtop of Mari suddenly and went rummaging around in her purse, digging out a second banner and unfurling it, "I had one for him, too!" She lowered it down a bit and made a face, "Not that I got to wave it around for long."
The Russian just smiled sweetly, "In the end, you got to wave around both, though...I bet you didn't expect that."
"That was some parlor trick you pulled out there, Viktor." The older woman half-chided, folding the banner back up to put it away, and pulling the remaining banner off Mari's head like a drape from an old lamp, leaving the woman's hair ruffled and half-electrified with static, never mind the nonplussed look on her face, "I'd scold you myself for it but I feel like Yuri probably will himself, so I'll spare you hearing the same lecture twice...or three times, if Yakov got you already."
The Russian just smiled blankly and said nothing in response...but then turned his head to look behind himself and focused his attention on the young Tiger instead, "Yuri...come aside for a minute."
The teen gave a curious look, but nodded and moved away from the group, thumbs curled into the straps of his backpack. Viktor moved away from his Yuri as well, stepping past a few onlookers to pull his former rink-mate to the base of a nearby wall. They spoke quietly, and in Russian, so the fewest people would be able to eavesdrop on their conversation as possible.
With Yurio and Viktor off on their own, Yuri turned his attention back to Minako, watching as she folded up the second banner and slid it into her purse to join the first. He turned on his heels and started moving towards her.
"Congrats on your Gold, I guess?" Mari said, a look on her face like she suddenly thought she'd forgotten she owed her mother money, "I dunno how you feel about this one."
"It was Viktor's choice." He answered, pausing a few paces in front of the two women, "He did what he thought was the right thing. He also asked me not to give him a hard time about it, so I'm not going to."
"If someone had told me 5 years ago that Viktor Nikiforov would give up the Gold for our Yuri, I'd wonder what planet they came from." Minako mused, "I'm still just...really shocked. I hope he didn't do this because of everything else going on. He's had a hard time, too...it just didn't have physical wounds."
"No..." Yuri shook his head lightly, ready to say a thousand other things, but holding them in. Instead, he drew in a breath, and remembered the promise he made to his husband.
Leave Minako and Mikhail to me.
He closed the gap between them and reached his arms forward, pulling the stunned ballerina into a hug. He held a moment quietly before lifting his face to lean closer to her ear, whispering softly, "...Don't ask Viktor to keep secrets from me again."
Minako went pale as a sheet in an instant, and looked down into those cherry-tinted brown eyes as Yuri pulled away again.
...Viktor told him...everything...
Mari got an awkward vibe from the both of them, and looked around nervously, "Well if everyone's done being super tense, can we go?"
"Y-Yeah..." Minako agreed, watching as her pseudo-kid moved off again without another word, heading over towards the two Russian skaters.
Half a heartbeat later, Viktor raised his hand, "We're going to drive back together. We'll see you at the Exhibition tomorrow. Ja ne." He waved then and started moving off towards the doors, leaving the other half of the group to wave back in quiet confusion.
A cold rush of winter wind blew through as the trio of athletes left, heading off to find the little rental car buried somewhere in the parking lot's snowdrift. The five that remained just looked at one another in stunned silence.
Except for Nikki, "...I guess we're not dying his hair then?"
"I don't think he would've let you go through with it anyway, sweetie." Mikhail offered, "The color would've lingered into Nationals."
.
The drive back to the Marriott was much more relaxed than the arena had been, and all three seemed to be in much better spirits after their daring escape from the awkwardness of what they'd left behind.
"It's kinda nice that it's just us again." Yuri commented, left hand reaching across the center console to rest over his partner's leg like usual, "I missed this kind of thing."
"Me too." Viktor agreed, eyes careful to every other car, as though each was as bad as they were back in Russia.
"Seems you're getting along pretty well with Viktor's cousins." Yuri added, sitting up a bit higher to look over the shoulder of his chair and into the back seat, "I guess you like them?"
"They're aright." The teen answered simply, "I don't think things would've gone half this fast if the old man hadn't sicked Nikki on me like he did. I think he's halfway regretting it now."
"Why's that?"
"Cuz she originally threw herself all over me to annoy me, but now we actually get along."
"She's pretty brave." Yuri mused, turning back to sit properly and face forward, "I'm still floored by how she yelled at you the other morning."
"...That..." Yurio grumbled, and he hugged his backpack a bit tighter where he kept it on his lap, "...Well..."
"She yelled at you?" Viktor wondered, glancing back through the rearview mirror, "What'd she do that for?"
"...I deserved it."
"Wow~! What'd she say?"
"Some stuff that doesn't deserve repeating." Yuri explained, "All that's in the past now. Right?"
Yurio hesitated, but then nodded, "Yeah. It's in the past."
The car came to a stop at the last red light, and they could see the five towers of the hotel looming to the left. The trio were quiet for a moment, but when the light turned green, and Viktor motioned the car to move again, the teen couldn't contain his wonder anymore.
"...Viktor...why...did you agree to be my choreographer?" He asked, "...But not my coach."
"Choreography is easy. I plan for a week, show it to you once or twice, and then I'm done unless you have questions."
The Tiger grumbled quietly, "That's not what I meant."
"Say what you mean, then."
Yuri glanced aside to listen quietly.
"You weren't even all that interested in looking at me for a few days." Yurio explained, "None of us were on speaking terms until after the Short Program. You did everything in your power to make sure I couldn't talk to Yuri, even while you yourself refused to talk to me, too. Yet somehow, in the middle of all that, you still said you'd be my choreographer. Why?"
"Hmm... That's a better question." Viktor acknowledged, resting one elbow on the window sill while the right stayed on the steering wheel, turning it to round the corner and head east, "I guess because of expectation. When I heard the very first rumblings of the idea that you'd be moving to Hasetsu, I had a feeling you'd be asking me to be involved in things somehow. Maybe in the way that I coached the both of you before the 'Onsen on Ice' Exhibition. So I had those ideas in my head already, even before everything hit the fan." He paused for a moment, slowing down to let another car merge into the lane ahead of them, "...But then you got so mad at the both of us because of some mindless chatter we were having."
Yurio wanted to justify himself, ready to unleash a torrent of choice words...but stopped himself, turning to look out through the side window again.
Viktor spotted it in the rearview mirror, "It was poor planning on Mikhail's part." He explained, looking forward again, "He was too busy with the logistics of getting everyone to Hasetsu that he never considered what to do with you once you were there. People normally move across the planet to go to their coaches. Coaches don't generally come to them. If Mikhail had talked to me about the move before he'd finalized it all, he would've known you had no coach in Hasetsu waiting for you. As long as I'm still competing, I can't play coach to two people and myself, and do all the other stuff I already do."
"...Can I...make a point about something?" Yurio asked hesitantly.
"Sure."
"...Yakov coaches upwards of 8 people at a time. Why can't you?"
"I'm not Yakov. I'm Viktor." He answered pointedly, "And I'm still learning all this stuff about how to be a coach in the first place. Right now, my biggest success story is teaching a guy who already knew how to skate." He switched hands on the wheel, freeing up the right to go down and settle gently over the hand resting on his thigh, "So in that case, I was more of a life-coach than a skate-coach. You need some life-coaching, too, Yuri...but it's something that I can't do for you. You need a different teacher. By the time you get that from your new situation...maybe I'll be retired from competition, and I'll have more experience as the kind of coach you'd actually learn something from." He turned the car to the right, heading down the path to where the hotel garage entrance opened to the street, "So in a way, we both have to learn some things before we can work together."
The teen was quiet, trying to absorb the answer...and eventually accepted it, "So maybe in a year or two."
"Sounds about right." The older skater agreed, moving the car through the garage until he found a spot he liked, and parked, "But you'll always know where to find me if you need help. I can be something like...the back-up assistant coach to Minako."
With the car stopped, put into gear, and the key withdrawn, the trio hobbled their way out, gathered up all of their things and started moving up towards the nearest elevator. Yurio hefted his backpack onto one shoulder, watching the ground as they walked. They made it all the way into the main lobby before anyone spoke again.
"Do you want a ride to Gala Practice in the morning?" Yuri asked, "The Official one, I mean. We'll obviously drive you for the rest of it."
"Sure." The teen answered, shifting his weight a bit, but eventually looking up at his former rink-mate, "Viktor..."
"Hm?"
"...Spasibo."
Blue eyes blinked down at the Russian Kitten, but Viktor eventually huffed a quiet laugh and set his hand on top of the teen's head, "I'll make you the best skater in the world one day, Yuri. But for now, I'm doing that for my Yuri. He owes me another four World Championship Gold medals. I'll get my five from you eventually, too."