This chapter was meant to be much longer, but I had to compromise because of all the content I had drafted for it. Additional details may be presented in a companion fic.

Minako and the entire Nishigori clan enlisted themselves as Yuuri's personal cheerleaders, pushing him to his limits to get him into shape. Between consistent sets of intense cardio and Minako's back-to-basics ballet sessions, he wondered if he would survive long enough to slip into a pair of skates again. Victor would join them in the mornings before moving to the rink which Yuuri wasn't allowed to step foot on until he was of the specified weight. Yuuri pretended to be annoyed while basking in the underhanded challenge, and Victor skating on his home ice. The triplets, now frequent fixtures at the rink, accumulated daily content in the gigabytes.

"Uh," Yuuri eyed them suspiciously but Yuuko shook her head.

"They've sworn on their love of skating otaku that it's just for our personal reference. Even I can't say no to getting this all on camera," she leaned on the barrier, watching Victor land yet another perfect quad flip, "He's amazing isn't he?"

Yuuri's eyes were on their way to regaining its starlight, "In a word."

The hardest move of all was writing off pork cutlet bowls, made worse by Victor helping himself to seconds and thirds each night. Yuuri would shoot him truly dirty looks as he picked at his lean meats, salads, fruits, non-fat milk, and water, and Victor would respond with the most innocent smile that fooled everyone except Yuuri. Switching from the mouth-watering comfort of carbs and fats to such a stringent diet was fucking difficult but Yuuri was determined not to let Victor get the upper-hand. Plus...those brilliant smiles usually made Yuuri's day.

Two weeks in, he could feel the positive changes, the overload of energy in the mornings, the greater resistance to exhaustion, the way his legs held up under pressure. He also slept a lot better, especially with Makka snuggling next to him for most of the week, something that comforted Victor greatly. Makka unofficially became the middle-dog in their budding relationship, giving to Yuuri what Victor couldn't. It was a struggle for him; seeing Yuuri sober didn't change a thing about how Victor felt. If anything, the fierce resolve and day-one honesty drew him further in. But he needed to do this right. He needed Yuuri to continue trusting him. He needed Yuuri to see himself before he saw him.

'But...what if he never sees me that way again?'

As if to ease his constant ache, Victor noticed a piece of paper neatly tucked into Makka's collar one morning. He removed and unfolded it, his eyes lighting up at the question handwritten there:

What's your favorite thing about St. Petersberg?

Victor gave Makka a sleepy head rub, "What's he up too boy?" The dog gave an encouraging bark and he smiled, his mind wandering for the first time in weeks to Russia. That night Makka returned to Yuuri's room with an answer and a question from Victor. Yuuri shook with delight; the idea had come to him all at once and it had taken days to build the courage to execute. So far, their verbal conversations were seventy percent professional, the remainder being quieter interactions that had Yuuri reddening at each turn. He found he still couldn't get very personal, until now. He wrote his answer and headed to bed; Makka would wake him in the morning for delivery. And thus, an unconventional but pleasant back and forth was established, with Makka doubly pleased with all the extra attention directed his way.

They awoke one day to a swarm of reporters in Hasetsu. Everyone except Hiroko and Victor seemed overwhelmed by the sudden crowd. Someone had leaked a picture of Yuuri and Victor outside Yu-topia to the Japanese and Russian press, and this undeniable proof of Victor's intentions for the upcoming season saw them fighting for explanations and exclusives. Victor shielded Yuuri, already seeing the panic creeping into him, answering questions without actually saying anything substantial except that yes, this was real, yes, he was coaching Yuuri, and yes, he would qualify for the Grand Prix Finals.

"Thanks Victor," Yuuri was beyond grateful for him handling them. He hated reporters.

Victor ran a soothing hand over his back, "Anytime," he didn't like that Yuuri was trembling slightly, "C'mon, let's take a walk."

"But, running-"

"It can wait."

Three weeks in saw them never having a meal without the other present. Dinner sometimes happened in either of their rooms, depending on whether one of their notes required verbal elaboration. As the days passed, Yuuri found it easier to open up about his hometown, his life, and the things he loved, and each day, Victor maintained an acceptable balance between being Yuuri's coach, the memories from the banquet, and understanding the boundaries Yuuri established. No matter where he was, Victor found a middle ground, and they relaxed there until Yuuri was ready to move forward again.

The day he slipped on his control saw Yuuri skipping one too many steps during his daily run and cutting his forehead from an ungraceful fall. Victor, ignoring his protests, guided him back to Yu-topia, sat him down firmly and cleaned the shallow injury. He applied medication, dressed it carefully and then pressed his lips to Yuuri's temple, causing them both to freeze.

Victor's insides knotted, 'Three fucking weeks. Why am I like this?'

"Yuuri, I'm sorry, that was-"

"No, no it's...that's okay," Yuuri's cheeks were burning but he had no intention of alienating Victor like their first encounter.

"Yuuri..."

"No, really," Yuuri heard the skepticism and wanted it gone, "I don't mind."

And Yuuri meant it. The boundary moved back some from that moment; he let Victor stay closer to him, not minding him leaning on his shoulder during meals, or brushing strands out of his face after exercising, or combing through his wet hair after soaking in the hot springs. The last one was his favorite. It left him with butterflies and bolstered the intensity of his dreams (Makka was NOT a fan of ending up on the ground with Yuuri), but...he liked it. He liked Victor, and not just as his idol. He felt drawn to him in a much more visceral way that kept the idea that he'd experienced something similar alive and well in his mind.

Yuuri weighed himself on the fourth week and gave a celebratory 'whoop!'; he was finally back to Grand Prix standards. Excited, he jumped into his sweats, texted Victor to let him know where he was going, and did a quick run to the beach to settle his adrenaline. He barely broke a sweat, but his heart was good and pumped. He did some stretches, enjoying the changing colors on the horizon. The scenery only improved as Victor strolled towards him, his hair swaying in the soft breeze.

"I'm back to my original weight," he said as Victor settled into the sand next to him, "How soon can we start?"

"Today, if you like," Victor smiled, "Good work Yuuri."

"Does this mean I can have-"

"The diet stays until you've won the Grand Prix."

Yuuri sighed; it'd been worth a shot. He sat next to Victor and was surprised when he handed him a Makka note from the day before. Alarm bells set off in Yuuri's mind, "Is something wrong?"

"No, I just don't know how to answer it."

Yuuri looked down at his scribble: I'm really not a big fan of airplanes, trains are easier. My turn - tell me one of your favorite moments.

"I'm sorry if I got too personal-"

Victor looked directly at him, his eyes burning, "You don't ever need to apologize for being curious. I love it."

Yuuri blushed under the intense gaze. Victor returned his eyes to the ocean, "I don't want to lie to you, that's all."

Yuuri wasn't entirely sure what was going on but the look on Victor's face spoke of something faraway and beautiful, as though an old memory had seared itself permanently on his soul. He didn't know why, but it made his heart beat faster. The silence that followed was strangely therapeutic as they stumbled into an unexpected dimension of their relationship. Victor got up and dusted his pants.

"Meet me at Ice Castle when you're ready."

They were back to their usual selves as soon as they hit the ice. Yuuri bookmarked their exchange on the beach for later contemplation. Right now, he was determined to take advantage of Victor's expertise and made him promise to show him all the techniques he knew. If he was going to revive his career and compete at the Grand Prix again, he needed to be better than flawless. Victor agreed; it was going to be a steep learning curve, but he couldn't say no to Yuuri's fiery request if he tried.

"It's like he's a different person," Yuuko said proudly, as she and Victor watched Yuuri warm up, "I've never seen him like this."

"He has no intention of giving up. I love that," Victor smiled, "It'll be a difficult road from here on out."

"What's next on your agenda?"

"Introducing him to the choreography for his short and free programs, and teaching him some new jumps, including a quad flip."

Yuuko was a bubble of enthusiasm, "You really believe he can do it?"

"Of course," Victor stepped onto the ice, "Don't you?"

"You look hesitant."

"I'm not! Just nervous," Yuuri took a deep breath, "I attempted them some time back but could never land it. I've avoided adding them to competition for that reason."

"Well, you said teach you everything I know."

"I did."

"Good. Now, let's go through the choreography for your short program."

On Love: Eros was ice-skating seduction. There was no other way for Yuuri to describe it as he watched Victor embody the music, skating like a man on a mission to quench his love-starved body. Yuuri's eyes were drawn to Victor in an entirely new way, surveying the invitation from his throat as he titled his head back, the way his hands encircled the air around him like a long-lost lover, the dramatic accentuation of his hips and ass...When Victor finished his demonstration, Yuuri was sweating. The dreams flashed through his mind in rapid succession. Was Victor fucking with him?

"So, what do you think?"

"I, uh, yes," Yuuri's coherence was that of a potato. How had they gone from that moment on the beach to this?

Victor smirked, "Is there a problem?"

"Nope. I've got it."

"While you're skating, I also expect you to be thinking," Victor said, "What does eros mean to you? It's the only way you can exude a unique persona to enhance the program. It has to be solely you." Yuuri got the impression Victor was enjoying putting him in this uncomfortable position. The skate was basically sex on ice.

He was delving into overthinking territory, but Victor made his mind and heart stop by coming within an inch of his face, "No one but you knows your eros Yuuri," Yuuri could smell Victor's shampoo and it was making things hazy, "can you show it to me?"

'Can you show me the Yuuri from the banquet?'

It was a grueling couple weeks of practice. At the end of each day, Victor prepared a bath of epsom salts and Yuuri soaked his feet with relief. The pain was not as aggravating as his inability to decipher his personal understanding of eros or land some of the newer jumps. Victor massaged the tension in his shoulders, giving advice on his form and movements.

"Let's ignore the jumps for now. You've got the mechanics of your programs down and we'll pick apart the finer details as we go alone. Speaking of which, any thoughts on the music for your free skate?"

"My coach usually picked the music for my programs," Yuuri was apologetic, "I never really gave it my full attention."

"Well, that changes now. Any suggestions?"

"Um, there was an old friend, she composed a piece for me. Celestino didn't seem too impressed though. Let me get it for you..." Yuuri scrolled through his phone for a moment, plugged his headphones in, and gave it to Victor.

"Hmm, it's a start. Let's look at some other options. In the meantime, can she redo it?"

Yuuri nodded, melting under Victor's fingers, "Doesn't hurt to ask."

For all his hard work and nailing the choreography of the detailed programs Victor created, Yuuri couldn't, for the fucking life of him, get the quads right. A month of practice and he was working himself up like a volcano ready to pop. His speed was off, the timing was off, the rotations were off. Fuck. The angrier he got, the sloppier his technique became. Victor watched his attempts, his expression unreadable, and suggested they consider lowering the difficulty, for now. Yuuri was defiant but Victor was equally as stubborn, going so far as to offer a pork cutlet bowl in an attempt to disrupt his train of thought. Yuuri skated straight into his personal space.

"No."

Victor literally had to take a step back, Yuuri was suddenly that close, "Don't be stubborn Yuuri. Changes can be made during the season. You don't need the quads to get through the initial placements."

"Stop it. I will land them."

The look in Yuuri's eyes reminded him so much of when he'd pulled him in for that kiss, "Okay. Let's call it a night."

"I'll meet you later. I want to practice some more."

Victor acted like he didn't hear him, "You can tell me all about your definition of eros. You've been avoiding it for a month."

"Victor, seriously-"

He smiled sweetly, "I was also looking forward to listening to the free skate music. Didn't you say your friend would be finished with it today? Would be a shame if we missed it and kept her waiting for our reactions."

"I'm pretty sure she can wait for the morning," Yuuri's temper was building, "Another hour-"

Victor continued talking over him, "I guess I can eat dinner with Makka, he loves those pork cutlet-"

"Would you stop with the food references?!"

Yuuko, who had been observing the hilarious spectacle, stepped up to them, "Everything okay here?"

"Yes," Yuuri breathed out, "It's-"

"Yuuri has decided to have dinner without me," Victor pouted and Yuuko laughed, "A month of practice and he thinks he's above and beyond his coach's directions."

Yuuri was becoming light-headed and it wasn't from hunger. Victor could be such a manipulative son of a bitch sometimes, "Fine! Let's have dinner." Victor's sudden broad smile sent Yuuri's irritation into overdrive, draining any semblance of rational arguments from him. He felt very tired, very defeated, and found he couldn't think straight. Victor's frivolity, in all its utter absurdity, was driving him into an almost dreamlike state of resignation.

"Just give me a few minutes to pack up," and in a move directed by some outside force that had sat in waiting since Sochi, Yuuri leaned in, brushed his lips against Victor's own, put on his guards, and headed towards the locker room.

Yuuko gasped. Victor touched his lips. And Yuuri kept walking.