((First thing: I never use warnings because I don't like them myself for their spoiler-y nature, but this time I'll give you a heads-up: Read at your own discretion. There is one thing even I feel bad about and more further down the road.

I'm setting myself up here after the end of the 2017/18 season. My usual rule is to write what I know, and I'm blatantly breaking it here because honestly, my knowledge about sports, even those I actually watch, is virtually non-existent. But from what I've gleaned, I shouldn't be way off base. There are a few statements that I have no idea if they're the truth, and my attempts to verify (or otherwise) went nowhere.

Since Word of God says there's no homophobia in the YOI universe, I'll stick to that. It's bad enough in the real world, and I refuse to ruin a good thing when I'm offered one.

I wanted to spell Viktor with a c because I usually pick canon over orthography (I even adopted James Barclay's inspired plural shamen, and that hurt my eyes at first) but … I physically can't. Sorry. Every Slavic bit of me refuses.

Oh, and the title? Yeah, that's a very rough translation of a bit from the song 上を向いて歩こう – you might know it as Sukiyaki. No, I will not try and translate Japanese precisely. That can only go wrong. Funnily, I had reserved the title for something completely different, but I was never convinced I thought it suitable enough. Here, I believe it'll fit like a glove. (Not that I've written a sentence of the fic while writing this AN, so who am I to know.)

All chapter headings are taken from the Wilfred Owen poems used in Benjamin Britten's War Requiem because I'm lazy like that. Please take them out of context here. I highly recommend listening to the whole thing, but it's not for the faint-hearted: It'll seep into your soul and start chewing. I love it to bits.))

1. What Made Fatuous Sunbeams Toil

'You can't be serious.' Yuuri had frozen in mid-step, his expression almost comically shocked. 'You talk like you're an old man!'

'Hardly.' Viktor sighed. Night had fallen around them, Makkachin's quiet presence and Yuuri's fretful one grounding him more than the fact that they were home. 'I'm not the one who misplaced his expensive chocolates.'

'And I'm not the one who left his closet open for Makkachin to ransack it.'

'You sure about that? You know you like looking through my old costumes to conjure up the memories of me wearing them.'

Yuuri shook his head, clearly deciding to ignore this – mostly because Viktor wasn't entirely wrong. 'You can still compete in four years! I'm sure you could.'

A slow smile spread on Viktor's face. He reached down to Makkachin and felt a wet nose touch his fingers. Shortly after stating that he'd return to active figure skating, the dog had been diagnosed with a chronical illness that wouldn't let him stay much longer. Coaching left Viktor much more time with him than being active – but if he stayed away from the rink while the dog lived, it was very likely over. He knew it. The decision had been easy and he didn't regret it for a second – especially now that he could see the poor thing declining with pretty much every passing day. 'I know I could,' he said quietly. 'But I wouldn't win. Not with this competition.'

'Do you think I can't win again, either?'

'I didn't say that.' He pulled his eyes off the slow gait of Makkachin to Yuuri. 'You may very well have another Olympic gold in you, мой дорогой. And I'll still be your coach until you retire. I promised you that.' He heard Yuuri mutter something but didn't quite catch it. 'Come again?'

'Nothing.'

'Don't sulk, Yuuri-kun.' The Japanese diminutive reliably made the younger man blush. A lot of things did. It was adorable. 'I've made my decision when I chose not to compete this time. You knew what it meant. And you know it was the right call. And let's be real here, coaching you while competing against you was never a bright idea under close examination.'

'You think we wouldn't have survived it?'

'We would have. It's our careers I'm not sure about.'

'You're saying you'd have let me win?'

'I'm saying neither of us would have enjoyed defeating the other as much as you did demolishing Yurio.'

'Well … maybe.' Suddenly, Yuuri's face lit up. 'Hey, Viten'ka, have you ever thought about pair skating?'

'No.'

Yuuri blinked. 'Yeah, that was a bit too fast to be entirely credible. You realise that, don't you?'

'Next you're going to say you want to do a backflip.'

'No, because that's illegal,' Yuuri said in the same tone he might use with a particularly dense cat. 'Last I checked, pair skating wasn't.' He frowned. 'Are you saying I'm too heavy and you couldn't lift me?'

Viktor snorted. 'I have lifted you. And you just won pretty much every competition this year, which is really impressive. There's nothing wrong with your physique, so don't try to make me apologise for something I neither said nor meant.' Viktor swallowed and felt himself drawn to his fiancé's eyes. 'But there are a thousand reasons why that's a bad idea. Starting with the fact that it would be an extreme hassle, seeing how we don't have the same nationality and one of us would have to get a new citizenship – and until that is done, we couldn't compete internationally if it's less than three years before the next games.'

'That sounds like a horrible bureaucratic mess, but not unmanageable.'

'Yuuri, have you ever witnessed pair skating go wrong? As in, have you actually been right there when a skater was carried off the ice, unconscious and bleeding, wondering if they're even still alive?'

'Ah … not in pair skating, no, but generally, yes. So I don't see the difference.'

'I have and I'll tell you the difference is how bloody it can be. Years ago, I was still super young, a woman had her face cut open by her partner's skates. I watched from way too close. I've seen falls that could have ended in broken necks, cracked skulls, and assorted permanent injuries or deaths. It's incredibly dangerous and I am not, under any circumstances risking injuring you.'

'You make it sound like that happens all the time.'

'Once will be quite sufficient. If I permanently injured you or, God save me, killed you by accident, I'd kill myself right after.'

'You did not just say that.'

'I … Yuuri, I'm sorry, that was really not …' Haunted, Viktor swallowed and shook himself. He had to do better. This wasn't something he could casually say and he'd make sure Yuuri knew he didn't need to worry when they were both a little calmer. 'But yes, I thought about pair skating. And then I thought about what could happen.'

'You do realise that I might injure myself every day.'

'Not the same thing. Yuuri, if I slip up alone in the rink, I'll injure myself. Probably manageably unless I'm extremely unlucky. If I slip up in pair skating, I'll injure my partner. Very possibly extremely badly.'

'We've been in the rink together.'

'At your first exhibition, yes. And you may remember that I never did that again after I watched it. Seeing how damn close we got and how fast this could have gone horribly wrong taught me better. Anything we did together after that was just dancing on the ice. I wouldn't even call it ice dancing, let alone pair skating.' He stopped and took Yuuri's shoulders. 'Look. I know we'd have the skill for it and I know what you're trying to do. And while you're right that together we would win anything we entered … I don't think I could stop worrying for a second.'

Smiling, Yuuri slung his arms around Viktor's neck. 'You're not comfortable with the idea. That's enough for me.'

Kissing the younger man softly, Viktor smiled at him. 'Thank you. You're lovely.' But he saw that there was a sense of melancholy about Yuuri that hadn't been there before. He hoped this wasn't his fault, although it very likely was. He'd messed up badly. 'Anything else weighing on you?' He tried for levity. 'The weight of a gold medal too much for your shoulders?'

'No. It's just … Viktor … You said … Ah, it's not important.'

'Talk to me, love. Mind reading isn't one of my strongest suits.'

Yuuri opened his mouth and closed it. The shutters slammed down and Viktor knew he wouldn't get an answer. Smiling brightly, Yuuri waved him away. 'It's nothing. I'm just really tired. That was all so exhausting, so many people and never a moment alone.'

That wasn't it. Viktor knew it. But he also knew that he wouldn't get an answer. Maybe he could arrange something that would bring Yuuri's guard down enough to spill. He'd try to get it done for the next day.

Ϡ

Viktor was smiling slightly as he stood in the rink. With his name, he'd managed to persuade the owner to let him have it for himself this evening. It had taken a bit of a bribe, but in the end, they had happily surrendered the place to him for a few hours.

Viktor had brought a selection of music he knew Yuuri liked. Once he had prepared it so all he'd need to do was press one button, he sent a message to Yuuri with the address and the hint that he should bring his skates. When he got the notification that his message had been read, he leant back and let his mind wander.

The entirety of last evening and this day Yuuri had been … sedate. Viktor searched his soul for something he'd missed. Somehow, he doubted this was just one stupid, offhand remark. His problem was that anything that entered his head came out of his mouth. Now he wasn't worried that he'd inadvertently offended Yuuri – he'd know that. He worried that he'd promised something and simply forgotten it. He was getting better at this, honest, but perhaps he'd slipped up.

When Yuuri was there and sufficiently convinced that whatever had happened hadn't been done out of malice but stupidity, he might get an answer. And later, he'd sit Yuuri down to plan their wedding. This one he hadn't forgotten. The thought made him way too giddy to slip his mind for even a second.

Suddenly, the lights went out. For a moment, Viktor waited if they'd come alive again. No luck. From their apartment, it would take Yuuri a good twenty minutes to reach him, so he could try to fix this real quick. If not … well, it wasn't as if he couldn't see his feet in front of him.

Leaving everything he'd brought at the rink, Viktor went out to the entrance area for better reception and called the owner. The woman picked up quickly. 'Hello, this is Viktor once more. Say, if you were the fuse box, where would I find you?'

'Again?' she sounded exasperated. 'The maintenance area is through the door in the corridor to the right of the entrance.'

'Which one?'

'The first. Sorry.'

'Locked.'

'Блядь'. Ah … Vania! Where did you put the maintenance key? No, it can't. Tell me right now!'

Chuckling to himself, Viktor waited for a deep male voice answering in the background.

'Ah, sorry about that. At the reception. There's a small purple tin can. The key's in there.'

Jogging back, Viktor looked. 'Got it! And now … hey, I'll put you on speaker, it's pitch dark in here and I need a light. And here's the fuse box. Let's see.' He flipped the breaker on and held his breath. 'Working! Thanks, I'm putting the key back in place.'

'You're lucky it was there, most of the time Vania's just puts it in some random spot he can't remember ten minutes later. If you need anything …'

'I'll give you a call. Thanks!' Viktor stayed at the reception, ready to open the door. Skating in the semi dark might have been romantic, but if he wanted music, he needed electricity.

It wasn't long before Viktor heard the buzzer and he felt his heart speed up. He let Yuuri in and sat wire-tight, watching his figure in the door frame, pale face flushed pink from the cold outside. He looked way happier than so far and Viktor was filled with intense relief. He beamed at his fiancé and rushed him, hugging him tightly. 'Are you feeling better?'

Looking sheepish, Yuuri nodded. 'I'm sorry. I'm such a mess sometimes.'

'You're the best thing that's ever happened to me.' A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he dragged Yuuri along inside. 'I can't do pair skating with you, but that doesn't mean we can't enjoy each other's company on the ice, my Yuuri.' The light flickered and died again. 'Oh, well. I'd planned music, but apparently that isn't to be.'

A slow smile formed on Yuuri's face and his fingertips brushed over Viktor's cheeks. He leaned forwards and touched his lips to Viktor's, the touch warm and gentle and innocent. 'All I need is right here.'

Ϡ

Viktor was in bliss. Yuuri had performed a couple of jumps he felt he could have done better because of course he thought that, but now they were twirling around each other languidly, barely losing contact in the process. It was getting progressively darker and it was slightly warmer than ideal. The surface of the ice was getting a bit wet. Although that might just be the light. Or another malfunction.

At the end, it didn't matter. 'Yuuri,' Viktor started, 'did I forget something?'

'What?' Yuuri blinked. 'What do you mean?'

'I made you sad. I want to know how.'

'No. No, Viktor, you absolutely didn't. You're wonderful.'

'Yuuri.'

'I'm serious.'

'Well, if you change your mind, tell me, would you?' Yuuri nodded once, and he decided to let it rest. 'You might want to call your embassy.' A bit of the colour drained from Yuuri's face. His insecurity stung, but Viktor was too aware that he wasn't the problem to let it bother him. 'You might want to find out what you need to get married in a foreign country. Assuming here is fine with you. We can do that in Japan, if you prefer.' Yuuri's face was as readable as a children's book full of pictograms. 'You thought I'd forgotten that? Yuuri!'

The younger man came close and held him tightly, spinning them slowly with his momentum. 'Not that you forgot, just … maybe that you were having second thoughts.' Clearly bothered, Yuuri looked around. 'Hey, I'd like to try something. Back up a bit.'

Viktor laughed. 'Says the guy who wanted to pair-skate.' He did as he was asked, going backwards to keep watching his fiancé. 'What are you planning?'

'I'd like to see if we can synchronise proper jumps. With sufficient distance.'

'How d'you define that?'

'Not getting in each other's face?'

Laughing, Viktor offered a small bow. 'Let's have it, then. Try to keep up!' It wasn't Yuuri's fault, Viktor told himself over and over while they tried to align their jumps – which was working better than he'd expected. The young man suffered from self-doubt so severe that initially, he'd felt completely unworthy and had thought that Viktor had joked when he'd said he'd marry him – and later, that he only wanted him if he was successful enough for him. Both had hurt like hell, but Yuuri had got vastly better at trusting him that he meant it when he said he wanted to spend the rest of his life with him. Where this self-deprecation came from Viktor had no idea, but one day he'd have him at a point where he felt safe and secure and knew that he'd never, ever be alone. One day.

They had got very close by now – but they both knew what they were doing. Maybe it was just the endorphins flooding him, but … 'Милый?'

'Just one more?'

Viktor threw his head back laughing. 'Sure. I was about to say … give me some time to think, maybe you've got a point and I'm being a coward.'

Yuuri's eyes went wide and a grin from one ear to the other lit up his face. 'Really?'

'I think I like the idea. Just … let me think this through, okay?'

The lights came back on, and for one moment the reflection ahead of him seemed … off. In the back of his head, Viktor felt uneasy, but he had no time to give it further thought. Watching Yuuri out of the corner of his eyes, he made a tiny gesture to signal him and jumped, the world spinning around him fast.

Landing with a grin, he made a grab for Yuuri's hand and was rewarded with a huge grin. He was going to ask Yuuri if he wanted to take their day to somewhere more private, without surveillance, but he never got there. Something caught and while his legs were suddenly slowed, his upper body kept going. Despite his fast reactions, Viktor slammed hard into the ice. He tried to curl himself into a ball, but he was too slow. Just before his head crashed into something, he realised that someone must have manually turned the circuit breaker back on. Then his world went dark.

((I should have kept a copy of the first chapter in its original version somewhere separate to remind myself why it's better to finish writing before posting. I went back and changed something major as late as writing chapter 9 – never mind deciding who calls whom what after I was done writing altogether. I don't think I'll go back to posting a chapter as soon as I have it ever again. Twenty years ago, it was the perfect exercise for me to learn discipline, but now it seriously stunts my ability to manoeuvre.

I know single-sex-pair-skating isn't a thing, but I decided that in this universe, it is.

If I get the Russian transliteration wrong – please tell me. I vaguely understand it but I can't speak it and if I try to read it my intuition gets it wrong.

Мой дорогой - /moy dorogoy/ - my dear.

Витенька - /Viten'ka/ - That's a diminutive for Viktor. There'll be at least two more. (While I usually don't use in-text transliteration, I'll do it for nicknames and the like for legibility's sake.)

Блядь - /blyad'/ - whore, literally, but generally used as an expletive.

Милый - /milyy/ - darling.

Here's the thing, we have a ton of endearment terms that all mean vaguely the same thing. I'll try to leave it at those two because my favourite one doesn't exist in Russian. I'm weirdly attached to коханий - /kokhanyy/ - beloved, but I don't think Russian has that particular word. If I'm wrong, I'd be very happy. There's the translation любимый - /lyubimyy/ but we have that word, too, and they are not precisely the same, with the former meaning romantic love in particular.))