The Winter of the Ubume

An LLS Production


: 冬ばれ

Viktor

Years ago, before skating became my whole life, I remembered watching a film outside of Russia. The film was Japanese, it was a cartoon, and it was at the Oscars. It won an Oscar – and it deserved that Oscar, since the art was nothing short of gorgeous with the baths and the flying dragon and the creepy shadow-mask.

Hasetsu, and especially Yū-topia Akatsuki, seemed to me like a tiny slice of that bathhouse and its surroundings in April. In fact, the town itself seemed encroached upon by the twirling steel dragons of the Japanese rail system. The giant metal behemoths are monsters of punctuality, that they are, but compared to the town and its idyllic coastal spring breezes they were even more fearsome.

To my great relief, the man behind the counter did not resemble Baba Yaga in any way.1 He was in fact a little bald wrinkly smiling man with spectacles. He wore a dark blue jacket over a shirt and vest and bow-tie combination, which seemed old but suited him and his bottle-cap glasses.

"Irasshaimase, welcome to Yū-topia Akatsuki!" The little bald wrinkly smiling man was so different from Yakov. "Do you have a reservation?"

"No..."

"Very well. How many guests?"

Makkachin yipped.

"Ah, don't worry, we accept pets here, but, honoured guest, please remember that pets are not allowed into the hot springs."

...I am just realising that I cannot quite completely convey the nuances of the Japanese languages and its politeness in such ordinary words. How is it that Russian mat can be completely composed of eloquent profanity, and yet it still fails to convey the tones of politeness and respect the entire reminder took? "One, under Nikiforov. Or two, including Makkachin."

"Very well. The hot baths are open if you prefer."

"Spasibo! I'll go there-" Makkachin whimpered. "-eh-"

"If you like, I'll prepare some hot water for your dog while you are bathing. Is he staying with you in the same room?"

...Japanese hospitality...

"Y- yes," I hurriedly copied the bow and followed the little bald wrinkly smiling man.

Rule One is very important, so I turned to carry my luggage-

-only to see a svelte woman with dyed blonde hair wrapped in a kerchief in a red uniform easily lifting it up over her shoulder.

"Don't worry, my daughter Mari will take care of everything," the old man laughed. "We're the last family inn in Hasetsu, you know. It's so rare to find visitors nowadays, since all the young'uns are going off to the big cities..."

With older people, the art of a conversation stems down to listening and nodding. Makkachin followed me to the entrance of the bathing quarters, after which my faithful hound could not follow to the warm depths of the open-air baths...

Perhaps I should not bore you with the details of taking a bath in the Japanese way. Or is that your interest~?

The Japanese winter cannot compare to Finnish ice swimming. The Japanese waters also cannot compare to the banya, but they are warming after the freak blizzard that came with my arrival. Perhaps the snow would clean up... wait, would I have time to watch the famous Japanese cherry blossoms? What were the good spots in Kyushu? I should ask Yuuri. He would tell me. After all...

The reason for my arrival came barging in – more accurately, barging out to stare at me. He was muttering something, his wide eyes made even wider. Like a snuffling little piglet, I thought.

So I held out my hand to him. "Yuuri! Starting today, I'm your coach!"

He screamed.


Yuuri

My idol, Viktor, suddenly appeared! And he took a bath, had dinner, and fell asleep in the middle of the dining hall and bar in a loosely tied jinbei from the inn.

"Yuu-kun, more of the Oniyome, please."

"Ah, yes, Kashima-san," I got another bottle for the teketeke hiding at the corner of the inn's open bar. "It's pretty rare to see you drink, Kashima-san."

"I got another suicide blamed on me."

"Ah... I'm sorry..."

"So," Kashima-san pointed to the other table, at which Viktor had laid himself out after dinner and drinking to a stupor. "Who's the hot foreigner?"

"Ah, he's a famous figure skater... more like a living legend."

"I heard from Akaname that he's your new coach?"

"What?!" A one-eyed old man shouted aloud. "Yuuri, if you like we can-"

"It's fine, Saitama-san," I assured the hitotsume nyūdō. "Akaname-san was joking... probably..."

Akaname-san was probably due for a dental check-up. To wash out his mouth.

"You can't trust the Russian féya," Saitama-san shook his head, causing his sole eyeball to bob up and down. "Fought a vodyanoi in the '04 war. Terrible."

"Ah, he's human." I did a double-take. "And why are you here, Saitama-san?!"

"Ah, it's too cold," Saitama-san shivered. "I was coming back from the Pachinko parlour and it was freezing, so I'm hiding here 'til whichever snow fairy decides to stop their celebrations."

"Snow fairy?" I repeated. "They exist?"

Saitama-san laughed at me. So did Kashima-san, after a round of giggles. "You live in an inn patronised by yōkai, and you're asking if faeries exist?!" The hitotsume nyūdō giggled, nearly spilling his shōchū. "They don't like to be called faeries, but yes, they exist. I wouldn't remember that much, though. The only time Russians approached this far south was the Tsushima Incident.2"

"I see..." I frowned at the dated knowledge. "I'm sure Viktor is human, so he probably doesn't know about any of the Russian... faeries..."3

"Ah, not a folklorist then," Saitama-san nodded and drank half a cup in one go. It's incredible that the human world's hottest bachelor could get dismissed so easily. Then again, this is a yōkai who would look the same in a thousand years, so it's entirely possible that the fleeting beauty of humans don't attract yōkai- "Thought so. Too pretty."

"Saitama-san!"

"It's a joke, a joke. I'm not like Shigaraki at all."

"That guy is never coming here! And he's all the way in Kamakura anyway!" Mari-neechan had complained once or twice about the old tanuki priest conman currently haunting an Ichimatsu family. Shigaraki was the very reason why gitsune, tanuki and other obake were no longer allowed to pay by cash at Yū-topia Akatsuki. Come to think of it, I can understand why Saitama-san thought he was a Russian... fae? Fairy. Maybe it's his silvery hair or his eyes or-

The door crashed open, far away. Running footsteps echoed, and Minako-sensei crashed into the bar with Mum. "Yuuri!" Minako-sensei jabbed a manicured finger at Viktor, raising her voice. "Why is Viktor sleeping in one of the inn's robes?!"

"H- He soaked in the hot spring and had dinner, then fell asleep..." Viktor rolled over, using the big poodle that attacked me this early morning as a full-body pillow.

"It's big news in Russia!" Minako-sensei continued. "He's taking the next season off and is considering his next move. they're also saying that when he saw the video of you skating his routine, he was struck with inspiration and decided to be your coach then."

Saitama-san started to laugh again. "That's our Yuuri!"

"Huh?" I did a double-take. "That... can't be right..."

"Viktor came here because he chose you, Yuuri," Minako-sensei repeated to me. "You brought him here! That's incredible!"

"All chances are inevitable," Saitama-san smirked.

"Saitama-san, your nose's growing."

"It's not! I'm not a tengu!"

I hadn't listened. Maybe it was the blood beating in my ears, but the person I've longed to emulate is right before me. More than the Ôbō-Jikara, more than this wind from the north which had blown him into my path...

A sneeze punctuated my reverie. Viktor rose, part of his loosely tied jinbei slipping off his shoulder. "I'm starving... hungry..."

"Huh?" I floundered. Minako-sensei and company had fallen silent, already preparing by long habit to flee from strange humans until assured. "Um, what would you like to eat?"

"Hmm..." A corner of his lips quirked up. "As your coach, I'd like to know what your favourite food is, Yuuri."

"...Eh?"


Viktor

The kitchen of God in Europe is Sicily. Even if they're the football that gets kicked by the boot, it's a football of deliciousness.

The kitchen of God in Japan – no, wait, this is the land of eight million gods – the kitchen of the gods is in Hasetsu, Kyushu. Its speciality must be the extra-large pork cutlet bowl.

"Delicious!" I told the hostess. "Is this what God eats?"

It was the most sincere compliment I had paid.

"I'm glad you like it..." the hostess' son, and the reason I had come to Japan, fidgeted next to a woman who, while she didn't look much older than him, bore the air of a mature woman.

"Yuuri gains weight easily, so he was only allowed to eat it when he won a competition. Right?" The woman teased him.

"Oh?" I paused. "So have you eaten this recently?"

"Yes, yes." The little piglet smiled, oblivious of how he'd ruined my plans and given me a chance to consider other facets of Japan at the same time. "I eat it often."

"Why? You haven't won anything." I smiled as I picked rice grains off of my cheeks. "With that pig's body of yours, lessons would be meaningless. You need to get back to your weight at last year's Grand Prix final, at least, or I can never coach you. Until then... no more pork cutlet bowls. Okay, my little piggy~?"

So fun to tease, I thought as the piglet almost physically fell back. This strange and wonderful country might be good.


Critiquez, s'il vous plaît !

1 In Slavic folklore, Baba Yaga is a supernatural being (or one of a trio of sisters of the same name) who appears as a deformed and/or ferocious-looking woman. In other words, a bit like Yubaba.

2 The Tsushima incident occurred in 1861 when the Russians attempted to establish a year-round anchorage on the coast of the island of Tsushima, a Japanese territory located between Kyushu and Korea.

3 Yuuri is using 'yōsei' (妖精) to describe the Russian fairies, since this is a catch-all word.