CHAPTER THREE HUNDRED SEVENTY SEVEN
The crowd's screams and cheers were deafening, rivaling even the most enthusiastic Central American futbol crowd. Similarly to a certain pair of departing athletes though, the adulation seemed distant, if not hollow, to the one still standing in the rink.
Asahi wasn't sure what to think of it all.
Stop cheering.
This wasn't worth as much as you want to believe.
Did I finish?
Did I win?
Did I ever stand a chance in the first place?
I want to win!
I want to go home...
I shouldn't be here.
This is my last shot at making something of myself...
I don't deserve any of this.
Am I even allowed to be happy about what happened?
The only thing that made sense to him was the sound of his breathing; deep but quick, and the feeling of each drop of sweat that rolled down his face and neck, leaving a trail of ice cold in its wake. His mind continued to race, asking a thousand questions, doubting everything, and he slowly went down to one knee on the ice, then the other, eyes staring off into space.
The cheering seemed to come from 'somewhere else' after that, as though massive walls had been placed all around the edges of the rink. The audience became a staring, harsh, ignorant mass...and he, like a specimen under glass, helpless and prone before their judgments.
Asahi...
Eyes shot open. He saw blue and grey tennis shoes on the ice directly in front of him, with the tattered, frayed edges of black jeans folded over them. His brow furrowed, and in a mistaken blink, he closed his eyes...and the image was gone. Confused and nervous, Asahi felt a hot wave rush through his whole frame, leaving prickles on his skin, traveling from fingers to shoulders and across his back, before finally fading out again.
...What the Hell was that...?
.
Standing together in the hall leading back to the ice was a nerve-cracking experience. Viktor, Asahi, Yuri, Coach Nagisa, and Choreographer Webber, all crammed into a narrow walkway that was slightly set-apart from the regular part of the prep area. A few event staffers stood nearby in suits, lanyards and badges hanging from their necks. JSF reporters were around nearly every corner, filming the awkwardly distinct cliques, and the one person - the lone non-skating coach - who seemed to have ties to both but could not bridge them.
The two younger skaters just kept their eyes ahead, focused on the barely-open blue curtain that lead back out to rink-side. The carpet on the floor was blue as it lead to the doorway, then abruptly changed to red as it went out into the arena.
[Please, let's start moving forward. They're ready.] One of the staffers informed, gesturing politely, but firmly towards the doorway.
Asahi was easily faster, and his team followed quickly behind him, cutting to the left as soon as they exited the hall. He was already reaching to pull the zipper of his Team Japan jacket down as he moved out of the darkened passage.
Yuri followed out next with his coach, who had since taken to trying to put weight on the right leg with the brace on. Stepping up onto a blade-guard and then down onto a nearly-naked foot was a challenge though, and the silver legend gave up quickly; the brace made it nearly impossible to flex his foot down so he could step on his toes anyway.
"Please be careful." Yuri asked quietly, pushing past the edge of the curtain and out into the bright lights of the stadium. The crowd was already cheering, but there was a slight uptick when the two emerged. An old-sounding song of trumpets and other horns played overhead, and Yuri paused to help pull his husband's sole guard off.
Viktor kept his balance with a hand on the nearby wall, able to put a little weight down on his right foot while the left was lifted to free it for the ice. As his gold blade set down onto the velvet carpet, Viktor reached up to pull the white jacket away with his free hand, setting it over the edge of the open door in the rink-wall, and saw his partner's following soon after. Three blade-guards were set next to them in turn, and the Russian reached to slide his arm over his spouse's shoulder while they waited.
Asahi side-eyed the pair now and then, more out of caution than curiosity. The heavy thumping of moths inside his chest and stomach had faded away, leaving him rather numb in spite of it all.
This feels wrong...
The horn-music above faded down, and the audience's clapping gentled as well, leaving a politely quiet space for the announcements to begin, [Ladies and Gentlemen, please kindly turn your attention to the ice. We will now begin the awards ceremony for the All Japan Men's Singles figure skating championship.] A woman's voice echoed overhead.
The crowd started cheering again as Yuri turned to offer a few more quiet words. Viktor listened, nodded, and stepped closer to the door. He heard more words being said high above them then, but in the milisecond it took for Yuri to hear enough to translate, and pat his hand against his shoulder to nudge him out, Viktor craned his head to the far left.
Asahi noticed the weighty tension falling over him in that moment, and glanced back, seeing a single pale-blue eye watching him strongly. The stare he got was enough to make the hot-prickly feeling from earlier feel like a warm breeze...this attention felt like hot knives.
You leave Yuri alone or so help me God...losing Itō will be the lesser of the two brutalities you suffer if I have to come back this way.
[Victory!] The announcer called, and the Russian turned his head to the ice, [Ice Castle Hasetsu sports this year's Gold medalist, and member of the Japanese Olympic Figure Skating Team...Nikiforov Viktor-san!]
Applause rose excitedly, even as many fans screamed lamentations over the noise to show solidarity with the legend's one-legged glide. Even with only the one skate though, and hobbled into keeping his right foot up, Viktor still managed to slide around expressively. Single-blade tricks weren't terribly complicated for him, and he swiveled around playfully as he would even if he had two good legs. One arm gestured out to the side as he bowed to all sides of the arena, and he dipped into a forward lean to start moving again.
[A truly stunning performance by Russian figure-skating legend, Viktor Nikiforov, with a final score of 327.90.] Morooka commented for the home audience, [The Japanese team is especially grateful to have him join us, even this late in his career. Having turned 29 just this past week, he was still a top candidate for the Olympic team, and the JSF was right to swoop in and grab him up as soon as they realized his former league had cut ties. Viktor entered the All Japan Championship as a star contender and was expected to sweep the Gold easily, save for his own partner and student, who has largely been Skater Viktor's only real competition this season. We hope to see many more surprises from them both as they continue to challenge one another, together, for Japan.]
When he finally got to the back of the three-tiered podium, with the long table of awards and the suits standing behind it, just off to the side, Viktor carefully set his hands down and crawled up onto the level surface. Someone from the awards table rushed forward quickly to offer a hand to help him get back up again, and he laughed nervously before accepting it and getting up. He tried to look humble and cute as he finally got upright, dusting off his costume pants and gingerly lowering down to give his left leg a rest.
Yuri had crossed his arms over his chest as his husband went out, eyes never wavering in their forward-facing stare. He wouldn't allow the faintest of wavers, not even reacting to movement that he could barely see in his peripheries.
Please just let this thing be over without anyone trying to talk to one another... I don't have the patience right now...I just want to go home...
[The Silver medal is awarded to returning-Champion from Imari, Saga Prefecture...Saito Asahi-san!]
The black and red blur went quickly by without an attempt to exchange words, and Yuri watched the taller man go; it was a bit of a relief to see him moving away. Now it was just a matter of surviving the next several seconds without Coach Nagisa trying to say something on her student's behalf. Yuri just kept his eyes forward and arms tightly crossed over his chest, watching dryly as Asahi gave his bows and waves like every other skater had before, and tepidly took his place on the second tier of the podium, just to Viktor's right.
[Skater Asahi took 2 years off after a fatal car accident that claimed the life of his rink-mate, shortly after that season's Japanese Championships.] Oda said, taking his turn, [He's clearly worked incredibly hard for this return-debut to the National level, leveling out with a final score of 299.35. The last time he skated here, he was only able to land the quad Salchow and quad Toe-loop, and his average final scores were closer to the 220s-260s...but now he's added the quad Lutz-triple Loop to his lineup as a real power-house move, worth just over 20 points on its own. His current coach, Nagisa Sayoko-san, was also the Juniors coach for both himself and Skater Yuri, coming out next.]
It felt incredibly tense to join Viktor on the podium on his own, but Asahi kept to himself, eyes only high enough to make it difficult to tell if he was looking down in the first place. He put his hands behind his back loosely and bowed his head, avoiding the Russian's gaze.
Viktor barely looked at him, looking off to the side where his spouse was due.
[And the third place Bronze medal is given to Ice Castle Hasetsu's second Olympic figure skater...Nikiforov Yūri-san!]
The applause he received was just as warm and congratulatory as the two granted before him, but Yuri still didn't feel too thrilled about it. He went through the motions feeling like he'd just stepped out of the last move of his Sochi Free Program, mentally yelling at people to stop cheering...and cursing himself for his own failure. Without being able to peer into his head though, the audience was entirely oblivious to the roast going on behind those brown eyes...and Yuri got onto the lowest tier of the podium, standing to his husband's left. He felt a slight relief from the rattling noises in his brain as he reached up briefly to touch his partner's out-reached hand, but eventually stood solo like the others.
[A stunning upset for Skater Yuri, who's widely been praised this season for being the Come-back King after a number of stumbles between events during the Grand Prix Series.] Morooka took over again, recounting those harrowing days, [Maybe he's still not feeling 100% after that accident in Detroit?]
[It's possible. He had an extremely lively Free Skate finale though, don't you think?]
[Oh, absolutely. The entire country cries out with pride and joy every time that young man drops a quad Axel into the mix...this time even raising his arms for higher points. Skater Viktor may have pioneered the quad Axel, and been the first skater in history to have its performance ratified at a sanctioned ISU event, but that jump truly belongs to Yuri. Other quad-commandos like JJ Leroy of Canada, and Chris Giacometti of Switzerland, can only stand back and marvel at the tenacity of the quad Axel. I wonder if we can certify a nickname for the occasion?] Morooka wondered, putting a hand on his chin, [Since only those two have successfully landed it.]
[What are you suggesting?]
[The Nikiforov Axel, maybe?]
[Oh! I like it!]
[Home-audience, help us out with this one, would you? Hashtag #NikiforovAxel. Spread the word!]
The big-wigs came out next, walking along the red carpet that crossed the ice, between the podium and the awards table across from it. A few words spoken, names read and certificates labeled, and each skater was awarded with a stiff board that ranked their accomplishments at the event. Viktor was handed a massive gold-chrome goblet-like trophy, its square wooden base nearly a foot long on each side to manage its weight. When the medals were sorted and awarded, Yuri let himself smile a little as his partner struggled to figure out how to hold the certificate and the trophy while bending over and shaking hands...only to settle on putting the trophy down to free up his grip. The audience seemed to find it funnier than he did, but he let himself to live vicariously through them.
Never thought I'd see the day that I'd be angry with a Bronze...at least I'm on the podium, right? I have so much to be grateful for, but it all still feels so...undignified.
More awards came...smaller trophies about 8 inches tall, looking like the tips of Kudu horns with their ridges and subtle spiral near the ends, then the bouquets of flowers, and even more handshakes. It seemed to take forever for things to finally wind down, though that came with its own perils.
Mercifully, Viktor was cognizant of the trouble to come, and carefully hoisted every award he'd gotten into his arms, just to prevent the awkward 'need' for group-hug photos before they got down from the podium. Asahi was still forced closer by the photographers, but the giant trophy made it easy for him to feign not having enough room and keep a minor distance. Once they were free to start the victory lap, it was oddly cerebral that none of them even suggested the motion of hand-shakes.
Viktor did his best to lift up and present his Gold as they skated around, but with everything else in his arms, the task was impossible. Saving him, Yuri reached for his chest and pulled up on the red lanyard, hoisting the yellow metal disc free, and kissed the edge of it before leaning up to share a kiss with his husband. Hand-shakes be damned, no one else in all existence would be getting in on that party.
And with that...the event finally ended.
Skaters retreated back to the prep-area to change and gather their things. Congratulations were given...and the palpable tension of still not knowing who'd gotten the last Olympic Team slot was easily felt. It became clear soon after the medaling ceremony that the JSF technical review board would be needing to convene and come to a decision, hopefully before the Exhibition. It left many skaters, Men and Ladies alike, a bit frustrated and apprehensive.
Viktor lost sight of Asahi shortly after they got off the ice, retreating within the safety of the mob that had descended behind the scenes. He wasn't terribly sad about that. It left him with a much more important problem to deal with.
"...So how do we get out of here in one trip?" He wondered, "With you helping me just to walk, I can't even spare one arm to carry or drag anything...and that means you're down to just one arm, too."
Yuri looked between their carry-bags, the shared rolling suitcase, and the gigantic trophy, rubbing his chin with a few fingers, "...I could go back on my own with the first load and then come back for you. It may take me up to an hour though."
Viktor shook his head, "You're not leaving my sight. You may be having fun telling me what to do, but at least this weekend, I'm retaining sole authority to say where you're allowed to go."
"No argument here..." Yuri sighed though, "It wasn't my favorite idea anyway."
"Having trouble?"
The two looked aside, then down...and straight into the empty arms of a certain chicken nugget.
.
"OhmygodI'mstandinginYuri-kun'srooooooom!" Minami squealed excitedly, still holding onto the big All Japan Championship trophy, and carrying the Makkachin plush tissue-box inside it.
"You've been to Yu-Topia Katsuki though...why is this so special?" Yuri wondered comically, making a face at the teen as he eased his partner onto the edge of the bed, "It's just a hotel room."
Yellow and red hair whipped around as Minami changed directions on a heel, "Don't you know how many people want to get the room-numbers for skaters like you!?"
Yuri felt a pang of déjà vu then, but Minami distracted him out of it again.
"I've been looking up to you since way before you got this good..." He went on, finally putting the trophy down on a small circular table, freeing up his arms to point one finger at the older skater, and more specifically, at the white coat Yuri hid under the layers of cold-weather gear piled on top, "But now you're on the Olympic Team and get on the podium at basically every event! You do a quad Axel! How cool is that!?" He was practically spinning from how much his fanboy blades were turning, "My idol does the hardest jump on record! I have so much work to do to try and catch up!"
Viktor smiled as he listened, but then just leaned down onto his back, "We need to get going. It's just after 8."
"Yeah...I was thinking the same. We took a long time getting back."
"...Going?" Minami crashed out of fanboy-mode and glanced at them, "Where are you going this late at night?"
"Back to Hasetsu." Yuri answered, "I need a costume for a solo show now. We didn't come prepared for it."
"How come you don't just ask someone at the resort to bring one to you?" The teen wondered, "Can't they?"
"I'm not so certain they'd grab the right one, or all the stuff that goes with it. I haven't skated it before so they don't even know what the outfit looks like."
"...Oh."
Yuri turned to head towards the bathroom, looking back at Minami as he went, "We're going to come back in the morning, so don't worry."
"But you're going to miss the Exhibition practice... You guys are Olympic Chosen, you can't really miss it. At least..." A nervous finger went down towards the Russian, "...Unless you've been maimed."
"I'm fine!" Viktor insisted stubbornly, "I'm just milking this for everything it's worth cuz I like having Yuri dote on me."
"Are you serious?" Yuri questioned suddenly, head coming out of the bathroom so fast it nearly broke the sound barrier. He glowered at his partner, "Tell me you're not..."
Minami blinked between the both of them, but then gestured both hands towards the door, "Well, I think that's my cue...I'll see you guys tomorrow! Congrats again!" He waved as he was already sliding out the door, and disappeared like a cloud-puff, leaving the panel to click closed.
Yuri crossed his arms again, "Viktor..."
The silver Russian waited a moment, leaning forward on the bed to be sure the nugget wouldn't come back unexpectedly, "That one's a keeper. Takes hints real easy. He'll be our third pup yet...Makkachin, Jiro, and Smol Nugget." He mused, returning his gaze up to his mildly-annoyed husband, "Don't worry. I only said it to make him go."
"...I...feel really weird being relieved by that?" The younger figure slouched and reached his hands up to ruffle his slicked-back hair, leaving it to look like an awkwardly messy black nest when he was done, "You don't know what this is doing to me right now. If you can actually skate and you're just making up the limp..."
Viktor offered a comforting half-laugh, but reached forward to tug on his partner's coat-sleeve, "Neh, Yuri... I do like it that you're paying so much attention to me, but that doesn't mean my ankle doesn't hurt."
"...So you're not messing with me?"
The Russian shook his head, tousling silver hair over his eyes. Those crystal hues looked up solemnly, half-lidded, "I couldn't carry it on this long without outing myself. I don't want to see you worrying."
"...Okay..." Yuri nodded, accepting the explanation quietly, "We really need to get moving though. If we're not careful, the last train out of Fukuoka will leave before we get there, and then we'll be stranded until tomorrow morning."
Viktor hesitated to stand though, even as his partner was bracing himself to hoist him upward, "...Smol Nugget does make a point though. The family back home doesn't need to know much about skating to be able to find a costume meeting a description we give them. If you want your solo costume, we could just tell them all of its parts. It's all bundled together real nicely in our closet as it is. Asking Mari to bring us your outfit would be easy. Your mom has our spare house-key."
Yuri was the one hesitating then, and he relaxed his stance, "...I just want to leave Osaka. The sights, the sounds, the proximity to..."
"Mh..."
He shook his head and stood normally again, "My problem used to be that I got so scared of being in first place that I'd mess up because of the pressure. But I've...gotten used to it now, even if it's still really weird to be seeing these consistently high scores. Nothing about my competitive nature ever changed though. I'm angry that Asahi beat me." He clenched his fists, "Really angry."
Viktor reached his hands forward and cupped them gently around each shaking fist, relaxing them until they unclenched and he could weave his fingers around them, "My love, I'd be surprised if you weren't."
Cherry-hazel eyes turned to look down, and rose as they followed the silver genius to his feet.
"Way back when I was still asking people in Hasetsu to tell me things about you...Yuko told me much the same thing." He closed his eyes as lifted his face to recall, "Yuri may not be a genius on the ice, but he has more time to practice than anyone else. He's extremely competitive and hates to lose more than anything.' Or...something to that effect." He offered a smile as he looked down again, "You want to settle the score. You want to remind everyone why you've won the World Championship Gold and never him. Right?"
"...Yes."
"So settle the score at the Exhibition. Skate it perfectly...and skate it in my place."
"...In your place? You want me to skate one of your Exhibitions?" Yuri wondered, confused, "I fit into your old Juniors outfit but you were smaller when you were 16...I don't know how many costumes that leaves me with...and I don't know most of them by heart..."
Viktor laughed at that, "Yes I was...but no, that's not what I meant. You said you don't want to skate as a Bronze medalist, so I'll give you my slot for the Gold spot. That's where we would've done our duet anyway."
"...But you would've still been out there though...I can't just take your spot...can I?"
"Yuri..." The Russian half-lidded those crystal eyes again and leaned forward slightly, right hand coming up gently under his husband's chin, "Trust in your own reputation. You'll skate in the Gold slot."