CHAPTER THREE HUNDRED FOURTY TWO

The murmur at rink-side was excited and curious, as nearly half the event's competitors all lined up alone the wall to watch what was going on within the rink.

"I've never actually seen him skate in person..."
"Weren't you watching the Exhibition last year? He did his old Free Skate for us."
"I didn't didn't even know he was going to be part of it...I saw it on the livestream from my hotel room."

"He's so much taller than I imagined..."
"Don't forget, he's wearing his skates now."
"I know!"

"Such a shame he isn't into women anymore...I wonder if something happened to him?"

"He's so cool!"

"I wonder if he'd be willing to take on more students? If he could make Yuri so much better in the span of a single off-season, imagine if he coached a bunch of us at the same time."

"It's so weird now how our two best Men's Singles skaters don't even have Japanese-sounding names."
"You don't think Viktor Katsuki sounds weirder than Yuri Nikiforov? At least Yuri is also a Russian name, like that Plisetsky kid."
"We're getting to be like America, where some of our top people come from somewhere else."
"I'll worry when all of America's best skaters all sound like they come from here."

"I wonder if he'll autograph my skates!?"
"Get both of them to sign one each so you have the Nikiforov matched set!"
"Right!?"

Yuri listened quietly from where he was watching on his own patch of the rink-wall, keeping an eye on his partner where the man had been talking and coordinating with the Opening Ceremonies choreographers. For the moment, being within the mob, Yuri felt like he'd melted into it, giving him an odd sense of déjà vu from the days ahead of Cup of China in Shanghai. As long as he had black hair and wore his regular team jacket, it seemed like it was easy to become a fly on the wall again.

At least until he wasn't.

"That's a face I remember well."

"Huh?" Yuri lifted his head, feeling the bump of an arm against his right shoulder as someone else squeezed in on the wall next to him, "Oh...Asahi-kun."

"The only difference now is that you're not about to get scored for something."

"...Sorry about earlier." Yuri started, turning his attention back onto the ice, "Getting all excited about not being first, only for you to go up there and draw that number 2 minutes later."

"I don't mind going first." The older skater said, leaning on his elbows against the blue top of the wall, "I've been working hard. I want people to see what I can do now." He turned grey-brown eyes towards Yuri, "I'm not the same skater I was the last time I competed."

"It's not like you were bad before. You won Gold the last time I saw you."

"Being the best of the worst isn't always a compliment." Asahi shrugged, "But I bet that's how you feel being here now. I just saw the scores from the Final. Your Free Program numbers alone would be better than the total scores for most people competing against you."

"I used to complain about that being the problem I had when compared to Viktor."

"That's because you always compared yourself to Viktor."

A moment of 'quiet' passed between them, even with the buzz all around them making the arena loud. Yuri reached up to adjust his glasses, pushing them a bit further up his nose with a finger pressed against the plastic bridge.

"Did you get hurt recently?" Asahi wondered, pointing at the fading pink lines on the younger man's skin.

"You didn't know?" Yuri was surprised, standing a little straighter, "It was all over the internet."

"I don't use social media. I find it too distracting. So...you get to tell me all about what you did." Asahi put a finger against his chin as he thought back, "The last thing I remember about you was seeing your 11th place wipe-out at Nationals after Sochi. I asked you back then if you'd been hurt or if you'd lost your mind, but you ignored me. Maybe I'll have better luck this time."

"Oh...uhm..." He stammered, trying to think, "Where to even start... I guess I could say that it was just an accident, and another skater ran into me during practice the night before the Detroit Short Program...but I feel like that's oversimplifying things."

"Start with him then." Asahi pointed a finger towards the middle of the rink, where Viktor was starting to mimic the movements of one of the lead dancers, "The last time we trained together, you were still worshiping him from a distance like everyone else. The closest you ever got was a video on your phone, or that time Chris bragged about meeting Viktor in person, at Euros I think. Now, it's a little different."

"...You really don't know…?" Yuri was dumbfounded by the idea, "At all? It's two years worth of catching up and explanations..."

"Cliffs-notes work for me just fine. I don't need to know every detail."

"Oh..." Yuri lifted his eyes in contemplation, "In that case...long story short, I got drunk at the GP Final in Sochi, asked Viktor to be my coach after Worlds, completely forgot about it...then he actually turned up and became my coach...and the next thing I know, we were jokingly engaged, then we were really engaged, and now we're almost a year out from getting hitched."

"Jokingly, huh?" Asahi echoed.

"Well..." Yuri's face got pink again at the memory of it, "I got him a gold ring as a present; for Christmas, his birthday, and as a thank you for being my coach. Something small and unobtrusive, in case I didn't win Gold like he said I would. He bought the other one without me noticing, so when I gave him the one I bought, he gave me the one he bought...and then a friend of mine confused us for married already. Viktor said they were engagement rings and that we'd get married after I won the Final. I...didn't...but Viktor stayed with me anyway. We were pretty close by then anyway though...so maybe it was just inevitable." He perched his chin in the palms of his hands, holding himself up on his elbows on the rink wall again as he watched his partner from afar, "Viktor had joked for ages already that he was my boyfriend, even though I was too embarrassed to agree with him. He took the whole thing really seriously though...even got really upset at me for suggesting he go back to Russia after that Final, so he could come back to competition, unhindered by obligations to me. He ended up taking me with him, and we got to compete at Worlds together. Now we're here..." He smiled to himself, though it was hidden from his former rink-mate by where his fingers curled around the sides of his jaw and cheeks, "...Things have changed so much in such a short period of time...but I can't imagine going back to how things were before anymore. It's just too sad." He pivoted his chin on one palm, and looked up at the older skater, past the teal strands on the left side of Asahi's face, "What happened to us these past two years is online if you're really curious though...see it all unfold with your own eyes rather than just my recollections. But what happened to you? After you won Gold at Nationals, you totally disappeared. You were supposed to go to Worlds. Two years went by though, and not a word...you just vanished into thin air."

Asahi stayed quiet for a few seconds, his expression unchanged, "I lost someone. Two someones, actually… I couldn't stand to grieve in the open."

"Wow...I…" Yuri lifted up from the wall again, setting his palms down on the plastic, "I'm so sorry."

"It's hard, right? To focus on the every-day regular stuff...when something that's been a part of it for so long is suddenly gone." The older figure explained, "It's like losing a limb. The world just doesn't feel right anymore after something like that."

"I know what you mean…" Cherry-hazel eyes went back out to the ice, staring at golden blades, "Well, maybe a little bit."

"Hm?"

"In the middle of the Sochi Grand Prix, my family called to tell me that my dog had died." Yuri explained, drawing a breath and exhaling in a sigh, "It messed me up. That's why I came in last. It's not as bad as what you went through, losing two people when I only lost a pet, bu-"

"Don't discount your loss just because it was for a dog." Asahi reassured, lifting his head to look past his shoulder at the younger man next to him, "In its own way, losing a pet can be even more devastating than losing a person. A dog will love you absolutely, unconditionally, and they'll never lie to you or betray you. They'll keep your secrets and mind your tears, and they never intrude on your feelings the way people do. Dogs are good that way. As the saying goes...to you, a dog is just a part of your world, but to your dog, you are the world. Someone like you though..."

Yuri turned his eyes slightly.

"...Maybe a dog is worth 10 times more than just a pet. They're like a living, breathing, furry, barking manifestation of your heart into the world."

"You've become quite the philosopher since last we spoke." Yuri noted, raising a brow, but then shaking it away, looking more serious again, "Um...sorry I called you 'that name' earlier. I was just telling Viktor about how much it hurt when people called me names, and then I went and did that exact thing to you without realizing how much of a hypocrite it made me." He bowed his head towards the man, "...I don't know what I was thinking. Maybe I got a little caught up a bit in my own perceived self-importance. Having the media follow me around made my head big."

"I forgive you." Asahi shrugged, "I guess I overreacted anyway. Being away for so long, I didn't hear it, so coming back, and then hearing it from you...it took me back to Juniors for a split second, and the way I was back then..." He pushed off his elbows and reached behind himself, "Besides, I had planned to do something about it if it came up again somehow..."

"...Do something?"

"Own it." He explained, pulling his hand forward again with a bright yellow plastic chicken squeeze-toy, and gave it a light squish, earning a long, sorrowful, drawn out squawk, "If people want to call me Chickenbutt because of my hair, then I'll turn it into something worth laughing about instead of getting mad. If I don't get mad about it, it can't hurt me. Shall I demonstrate?"

"...Demonstrate?" Yuri was utterly perplexed, looking from the chicken toy to the man who held it, "Uhhh...suuuuure?"

"Okay. Ahem… Faaaaa-" Asahi started, humming out a note, and then squeezing the chicken toy, though found it gave a slightly off-note squawk in reply, so he repeated the process and got his tuning in line, "Allow me to sing to you the song of my people."

"...Eh?"

"Drop a beat for me." He explained, shoving the chicken under one arm for a moment and then clapping quietly at the pace he wanted, staring at the younger man until he caved and joined in. When Yuri finally picked it up, Asahi gave a wry smile, and pulled up the bright yellow toy again, holding it up in front of his face with both hands.

['Despacito Chicken Version (Mr. Chicken)' - Franco Munoz]

By the time the people on the ice could hear what was going on, their attention was grabbed more by the sound of bystanders clapping than anything else. Viktor turned his head to see what the commotion was, and noticed his husband at the literal epicenter of whatever was happening, almost leading the tune. The chicken-toy's squawking was almost an afterthought to the fact that Yuri was laughing so hard.

The toy sounded like it was desperately gasping for air during the chorus, squawking even harder for it. Yuri was practically in tears by then, leaning against the wall as more people crowded around to listen, taking over the beat for him while he tried to dry his face.

"Viktor-san, is there a problem?" One of the choreographers asked suddenly, drawing the silver legend's attention back, "Can we run through it one more time before we call the group out?"

"Oh, sure..." He nodded, looking back again once more as the chicken song apparently ended and the 'mysterious' Asahi bowed his head gratefully towards the group, only to then offer the chicken to Yuri, who took it nervously, cheeks already flushed. The Russian made a face, though mostly to himself, "...He's never laughed that hard for anything I've done."

"Just squeeze it a few times to get a hang on the range." Asahi instructed, watching carefully as Yuri did just that, "There, you're practically Mozart already."

"Mozart would be rolling in his grave to hear his music sung by a squeeze-chicken."

"What if it was two squeeze-chickens?"

"You don't." Yuri gaped, but watched as his former rink-mate pulled a second yellow bird from a different pocket on the other leg. He just drew in an excited breath though, "You do! We have to play something!"

"Hmmm what to pick..."

By the time Viktor was cut loose to investigate, the two-chicken squeeze-fest was in full-blown orchestral mode. Other skaters were either clapping or beating the side of a fist against the rink-wall to create a beat or bass notes.

"Viktor, Viktor!" Yuri hollered, beckoning the man closer as he was skating nearer to them anyway, "Listen!" He jokingly cleared his throat, and then gently gave the chicken's yellow body a squeeze…and then cranked out a rather fast-paced tune that sounded familiar and yet...not. When Yuri gave up his chicken toy and Asahi took his place, it suddenly became clear, "...Can you hear...my heartbeat? Tired of feeling...never enough… I...close my eyes and...tell myself that my dreams will come true..." Yuri sang, then burst out laughing again, "It's our song! Did you recognize it at first?"

The Russian was entirely unsure how to process the debauchery, so he just smiled and nodded, bringing his hands up to 'clap' lightly.

"Aw it was better than that." Yuri sighed, deadpanning his husband as he stuck the squeeze-toy out to the side for Asahi to take back, "You look about as enthused as you did when I had you listen to that first demo Ketty made for me."

"We're ready to try the full show." Viktor explained, skipping any acknowledgment of the chicken song, "Everyone should take their places so we can start. If we don't get it right tonight, we have to come back first thing in the morning."

"Oh...well, okay..." The younger skater nodded, looking aside to where he noticed Asahi still hadn't taken the yellow rubber chicken away. Grey-brown eyes were just crossed in looking at the thing, so Yuri squeezed it to make that sorrowful squaaaaaawk at him, "Let's get on the ice. Viktor's right; we don't have a whole lot of time."

"...Hai."

The group that had gathered started to filter towards the nearest entrance to the rink, setting blade guards on any patch of the wall that was unoccupied before setting blades to frost. Asahi waited behind a moment to stuff the two rubber chickens back into the big pockets of his cargo pants, snapping the buttons to hold them closed. When he stood back upright, he spotted Yuri darting across the ice, gold blades leaving fine lines in his wake. As his trail of sight moved around, watching the younger man go by to where the group was going 'back stage' to take their places, he found Viktor still standing where he was before, slate eyes staring at him. Hands had since moved down from a half-hearted clap to being perched knuckles-down on the Russian's hips. Eyes were locked for a moment, neither of them willing to give ground.

"Viktoooorrrr!" Yuri called out, his voice slightly muffled by the distance, "There's no sense in the rest of us being in place if you aren't! Come on!"

When dark eyes went back, Viktor was already gone, leaving nothing but a small gouge in the ice where he toe-picked to start moving again. He followed the lines in the ice, and found the silver Russian meeting with Yuri at the far end of the rink, arms snaking around the younger man's lower back to pull him into a hug. Words were exchanged that Asahi couldn't hear, and he couldn't help but watch. Seeing the hug bothered him very little, but when he spotted Viktor bringing up his left hand to touch Yuri's face, and leaned down to kiss him, Asahi felt a slight twinge in his chest. He blinked strongly and looked away, drawing in a slightly pained breath.

"Asahi-kuuuuuuuun! Ikimashoouuuu!" (Let's go.) Yuri called then, waving one arm up even as Viktor was still holding onto him.

He huffed a breath and just reached for his blade-guards, setting them down at the end of the row with all the rest, and stepping silver-blue blades to the ice. He went around the opposite side of the rink to get to the same place though, pulling the high curtain aside to slip within the safety of the dark behind it.