Yakov almost looked pleased as she and Victor left the ice, although he certainly hadn't sounded it during that morning's practice session. They had finally made it through the entire choreography, and Yuuri felt almost confident in her triple axel, a far cry from nearly two weeks ago when she had begged Mila to teach her in front of what felt like the whole rink. That day she had managed to land it in front of Yakov- shaky, messy perhaps, but technically legal. Since then, his critiques had continued relentlessly, but Yuuri welcomed the reprieve that they gave her from the emotionally intense work of the routine. Stamina she had proven to have in spades, but the calls and instructions from Angela were testing her mental state on and off the ice. She knew it was getting to Victor too. It was hard to reconcile the distant and almost ditzy Victor that now greeted her whenever they were outside of the rink with the man that she practiced with on the ice. Each and every pubic appearance together was a lesson in psychological torture, as carefully choreographed as their secret routine. Rumours abounded online, putting even more on Yuuri's mind. She had never been one for social media because she knew how much more stress and pressure it made her feel, but now it was as if she couldn't keep away. Some part of her hoped to see a glimpse of something genuinely Victor and something genuinely Yuuri in one of the near-daily paparazzi shots posted online. While they appeared to be a skating power-couple on the outside, each embrace without a smile or god forbid a kiss on her cheek instead of on her lips felt like driving a stake into her heart. They had very specific instructions- they still needed to appear suave, collected, above it all, so no spontaneous displays of affection. No bear-hugs or forehead kisses or holding hands for too long. The media wanted intrigue and rumour. Room for speculation, Angela called it.
Still, Yuuri's traitorous heart couldn't help but gain hope every time they skated together, every time he was near. Even Yakov had to acknowledge that, although far from professionail pairs skaters, they had a very promising skating routine. As Yuuri like to remind herself, it was simply a performance, not part of a competition. It took her back to her childhood days of skating simply for enjoyment, and apparently also brought back the wild optimism of her childhood crush.
Something about skating with someone else brought the same sense of novelty and freedom as skating freely, although practice was as gruelling as ever. Something about the trust you placed in someone else to do their part. Though Victor seemed colder than ever off of the ice, on the ice he was still warm and responsive and energetic.
Her heart made her wonder: what kind of connection is required to truly skate with someone instead of merely at the same time as them? Perhaps it was just time and practice and muscle memory. Still. Many pairs were brother and sister. Other pairs were husband and wife. Was there a chance that one had to be at least a little bit in love in order to skate with someone else? Love for a sibling, love for a partner. Her heart fluttered before she frowned. Perhaps just love of the spotlight.
She sat to unlace her skates before rushing to the locker room. There wasn't time for daydreaming or deep philosophical musing, so she pushed aside her thoughts of love in skating even though she had a secret hope that she knew the answer to her question. She had to remember Victor on the ice, the Victor she had kissed in the park, not Victor the flirty showboat. But it was time for ballet training, and Madame Lilia would not be sympathetic to a potential relationship crisis.
Yuuri glanced cautiously at the blonde teen in front of her as they began their barre exercises, confused as to why Lilia had led her to this studio today, especially when she knew that Victor was a few rooms away, practicing by himself. Weren't they supposed to be refining the last lift ahead of the runthrough of their program? She shook these thoughts away, returning her focus to the boy next to her. She tried to catch Yuri's eye in the mirror, but he looked steadfastly ahead and seemed entirely focused on his dancing. He was avoiding her, then, because few people became so enraptured by their barre exercises and she doubted that Yuri was one of them. The warmups that she did were no different than the day before, with Lilia directing a steady stream of complaints towards her. Yuuri really had to wonder why Lilia would have brought her in here at all, though, if she was only going to be repeating herself and wasting precious time.
When they were directed to the floor and he could no longer hide from her, he put on a disgruntled expression. She could tell his heart wasn't really into it. It seems she had made some inroads with him, then. As she started moving, she could feel his eyes watching her movements. When she next caught a glimpse of his motions, they were starting to become remarkably similar to hers. There was a grace to them that most teenagers didn't possess on their own, even a world-class skater like the blond. From what she had seen the other day, he had already managed to gain a mastery of basic technique, impressive given the late start of his ballet training, but Yuuri could sense the first steps towards self-expression instead of rotely memorized forms. In Juniors, Yuri's programs had lacked true expression, sticking to simple emotions that lasted through his entire piece. Now, though… Yuuri felt excited thinking about it. With the right costuming, these more delicate movements combined with his hair would add to the otherworldly and ethereal image that his choreography could project. Already an accomplished skater, he could definitely offer a real challenge to Victor if he could manage to get the presentation right.
The older Russian woman remained surprisingly quiet, occasionally correcting the teen's movements but otherwise just observing, a far cry from how Yuuri suspected she normally behaved during lessons. In fact, Lilia seemed to be looking far more critically at Yuuri and her movements rather than those of her young charge.
She interrupted their floor work before putting music into the CD player and urging the young blond to the center. Yuri began the dance inspired by his short program as the two women settled back against the wall to watch. He continued, dancing with beautiful technique, if somewhat lacking the passion she had seen from him yesterday, up until he wobbled out of a turn. To Yuuri's surprise, Lilia didn't say anything, merely turning to her with a raised eyebrow and a challenging stare. Just when Yuuri began to wonder where this suddenly lenient teacher had come from (she certainly hadn't let anything go the last time, not even a significantly less noticeable error), it appears the lack of correction finally registered for Yuri. He had paused in his movements after the turn, slowing in preparation for a rebuke that never came. His eyes caught on Lilia, clearly confused, but the older woman kept her lips pressed in a tight line, refocusing on Yuuri deliberately. Unsure as she was about what the Russian wanted, as the silence grew, Yuuri grew more and more uncomfortable until she finally bit the bullet.
"Yuri, you need to be more stable on your leg in order to make that turn. You know it's a different position than being on the ice, but it seems like muscle memory is kicking in."
Lilia nodded approvingly at her before launching into her own laundry list of things she thought could be improved in Yuri's dance. The rest of their time in the room seemed to pass quickly to Yuuri even though she didn't dance herself. It was exciting to watch Yuri as he pushed himself and finally managed to tap into his full potential, and even more exciting to be a part of it. If she ever retired, as she had considered not all too long ago, she would be rather partial to coaching. Perhaps she was also partial to her student, she reflected as she walked into the hallway and grabbed her bag. She smiled at Yuri when he exited the room. He stopped before giving her a small nod of acknowledgement. No uncalled-for grumpiness this time? As he trudged down the hall, Yuuri smiled wryly. It was just as likely that he was simply worn out.
Yuuri turned to leave herself, ready for something to eat after her morning practice session and the energy-draining work of trying to offer corrections to a teenager. Lilia coughed delicately. Yuuri turned and stared at her, afraid to ask why.
"You could be a good teacher," Lilia volunteered, her harshly drawn face seeming to soften. Yuuri remained quiet, afraid that the slightest movement or noise would cause this version of Lilia to disappear and snap at her. Was something wrong with her if the skater would almost prefer things to be predictable in that way?
"Don't speak," the Russian woman hissed before Yuuri could even open her mouth.
"Just listen." She shut the door softly.
"In dance, in skating, you can't be at the top forever. The body is only capable of so much. The mark of a champion becomes answering whether you can help others to reach the same heights. Katsuki Yuuri, you have proven that you can be a champion. Now can you leave a mark?"
Without giving the skater a chance to respond, the aged ballerina slid out the door and out of sight, leaving Yuuri bewildered and forced to think of the future when right now she was struggling even to work through the challenges of her present.
Walking out of the building with her mind finally focusing on something normal and calming, her lunch, she was surprised to find Yuri walking back towards the entrance. Something shiny glinted in his hand as he approached. Without preamble and with a flat, emotionless voice, he pressed the foil-wrapped bundle into her hands. Whatever it was, it was warm.
"These are pirozhki. My grandfather said I should share them with you to thank you for your efforts to help me." With that statement, and perhaps a slight flush of embarrassment, Yuri turned around and headed back for the car where an older man waited. Bemused, Yuuri put the pirozhki into her bag and wandered down the sidewalk towards her hotel. Stomach grumbling, she stopped a few blocks away, sitting down on a bench on the periphery of a park before cautiously unwrapping the foil. She gave it an experimental sniff before allowing her hunger to take over, trying a bite. Yuuri groaned audibly at the taste, startling a nearby pigeon. She had never been as partial to food that came from outside her native Japan, but she supposed she would have to make an exception for this. Somehow it was even better than the one she had enjoyed with Victor.
She smiled wryly as she finished chewing. Perhaps it was because, unlike their relationship, it was crafted purely with love.