youji
用事Noun
1. preparation
youji
幼児Noun
1. infant; baby; child
"Yuuri…" Viktor wrapped his arms around his husband, whispering in his ear lovingly "I don't understand…are we eating ginger? Going to ginger?"
Yuuri laughed, his whole body shaking under Viktor's touch. "Jinja, Viktor." Yuuri said tenderly.
It had been a week since they had arrived home in Hasetsu. Jet lag no longer had its claws in them, and Viktor was just starting to get the itch to explore. Yuuri had started to help care for the inn, and more often than not wore the purple apron and blue happi coat over his usual jeans and sweaters. It hurt Viktor on some level, to see the Versace and Yuuri's body hidden … but the pain quickly disappeared once Viktor noticed how much more relaxed Yuuri was.
Yuuri dried his hands after setting the last bowl in the drying rack, glancing around the room before leaning back into Viktor.
"My mom wants to go pray for safe childbirth, and get a…a sarashi… um, a wrap?" Yuuri gestured vaguely around his middle.
Viktor gasped. "Can I come? Can we take pictures?" His smile was wide, and Yuuri looked at him indignantly.
"We talked about it last night. We're going after the morning rush, so make sure your phone is charged." Yuuri said it as if he was mimicking his mother, before placing a kiss to his husbands jawline. "You have twenty minutes."
While Yuuri had just shed the apron and jacket, Hiroko emerged in a deep purple kimono, her hair brushed and cheeks painted with a bit of blush. She handed Viktor the keys to the family van, patting his hands as they balled over the mass of poodle and hello kitty keychains.
"Vicchan, drive, okay?" She said in happy English, carefully stepping over the gravel in the driveway and taking her time to pull herself into back seat. She patted her lap—Vicchan jumped into her lap, and Makkachin settled into the seat next to her. Makkachin had a silk ribbon flower barrette next to her left ear, and Mochi had a bow tie—apparently they were just as part of the ceremony as Yuuri was.
Viktor felt his stomach in his throat as he started the car, but soon felt better as Yuuri started telling him directions in Russian. He still held onto the darling mix of Japanese and American accent after years of lessons, and Viktor loved it. He parked under a pine tree under the only spot open, feeling a year of life slip away from him as he backed carefully into the tiny space.
Viktor got his phone ready as they entered the Shinto shrine. He caught Yuuri's profile against the crimson of the tori gate, his mother in the blurry background.
They were still in Hasetsu, but after lunch in the middle of a week day, the area around the shrine looked deserted.
Viktor had to act quickly. Yuuri prayed with his mother quickly, ringing the bell and clapping his hands together. Mama Katsuki pushed Viktor forward with a hearty clap to the back, and he prayed too.
They took off their shoes to step up into the shrine—in bigger cities, there was usually a store front. In Hasetsu, however, Hiroko lead the way as they entered the shrine, knocking and yelling out a greeting before sliding the door open.
They sat on cushions on the floor as Hiroko exchanged pleasantries and money. Yuuri was dead quiet, and Viktor reached out to squeeze his hand as they waited
Viktor decided to watch, taking a sneaky snapshot as Hiroko taught Yuuri how to wrap his belly with the white gauze sarashi. It was hard to understand her, instructions sprinkled in between memories and admonishments, her voice low and Saga-ben dialect thick.
Viktor's instagramming had slowed between retirement and after opening their skating school. He still took plenty of pictures, but he was filled with more determination after their second night back home.
"What do you have prepared for the baby?" hiroko had asked over dinner.
"Uhm…." Yuuri had hedged. Nothing.
"Well, in Russia, its tradition to not to buy anything until the baby is born." Viktor chirped.
Hiroko looked dismayed.
"What about an album?" Yuuri smacked his face, as his mother went and pulled out the family photo albums. Viktor looked absolutely delighted as they peeled apart the pages.
"Oh, Yuuri was a beautiful baby." Viktor cooed, pretending to pinch the cheeks of a photograph.
Yuuri didn't seem to get agitated until the second half album or so, when the white clothing disappeared and was replaced by ruffles and lace. There was a studio photo of Yuuri and Mari, dressed in ornate kimono and heavily hair sprayed hair for one of their Shichi-Go-San ceremonies. (There was a photoshoot for each age, after all.) Yuuri looked adorable, but after their wedding in Hasetsu, Viktor knew the difference between male and female kimono. And even without that, Viktor could tell why he felt Yuuri's discomfort ooze between them.
It was lots of pink, and girly ruffles, up until the age where Yuuri was old enough to pick his own clothing.
When Mari was old enough to to leave elementary school, Yuuri was just entering it. Hiroko cooed about the entrance ceremony, how sweet they were with Mari's new school uniform and Yuuri's outfit he had picked himself.
A little suit, with shorts and knee-high socks. An oversized plaid bow was pinned to the collar, and a slightly mismatched headband was stuck in Yuuri's awful bowl cut.
"Ah, that was right when Yuuri started to grow out his hair to be like Vicchan!" Hiroko sighed happily, as her son turned a tomato shade of red.
"Ah. My Yuuri." Viktor had cooed.
The stroll down memory lane ended up with Hiroko pressing the entrance ceremony photo into Viktor's palm with a knowing look. There was a brand new photo album setting on the table the next morning, the first page filled with prints from Yuuri and Viktor's wedding, the rest waiting to be filled.
So Viktor dutifully took photos, knowing from Yuuri's Instagram and years of marriage that Yuuri wasn't a photographer.
They stopped at You-me Town (the local department store) on the way home for what was supposed to be groceries. However, as they rode down the escalators from the parking garage, they were dumped into the baby section of the clothing floor. Yuuri took a few steps to turn to take the next escalator, before he stopped. Distracted by a fuzzy bear suit laid out on a table, their entire group stopped. Hiroko cooed in delight.
"What kind of clothing do you have for the baby?" She asked, picking it up and rubbing her fingers over the fluffy fur of the bear pajamas.
"Um… nothing…" Yuuri said, the anxiety in his voice so apparent that it made Viktor a little nervous.
"Well… in Russia, we don't buy anything until the baby is born." Viktor piped up, his eyes drifting to a little dress, white and printed with pink strawberries. Forget Versache… Japanese onesies are adorable.
"Yes, but the baby is Japanese too." Hiroko hummed, and Yuuri looked up at Viktor sharply.
"We… should get a crib soon, ne?" Viktor smiled uneasily, and luckily the subject was dropped in interest of finding enough daikon for dinner.
Because, as Yuuri found out when they arrived home, they had a guest for dinner. Minako-sensei was there when they arrived home, cheerful and boisterous as always.
"Yuuri!" She sang, grabbing him by the shoulders "You look fatter every time I see you! Come on! " She teased, laughing as smacked him on the back. "Viktor's already here! No more handsome foreigners to come whip you into shape!"
"Actually," Yuuri said numbly, "It's Viktor's fault."
"Huh?" Minako turned her face to Viktor, who put on his best smile. "Yuuri isn't fat, he's pregnant!" He used his sing-songy voice. Minako shook Yuuri by the shoulders, violently enough to make Viktor worry about whiplash, her voice filling the entire in.
"YOU'RE PREGNANT? THERE'S A BABY IN THAT BELLY? WHEN WERE YOU GOING TO TELL ME!?" Her shock turned to anger and the tears. She wiped her face, sniffling as she mumbled something about being so proud. Yuuri steadied himself, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's a girl…" He mumbled shyly, smiling at Minako's face.
"A ballerina!" She cooed. The baby would have two prima ballerina's vying after her, and she probably didn't even have toes yet.
They ate together in the common room. Yuuri fell asleep soon after dinner, his head cradled in Viktor's lap. Viktor played with Yuuri's soft hair as Minako helped clear the dishes out of the room. It was hard. It was hard being away from work, and being back in a country where he was no longer fluent. It was hard seeing Yuuri be uncomfortable in a different way. But it was better. He could feel Yuuri melt against him, have him fall asleep in his hands instead of alone on the couch. The move and confession had done good for all of them.
Viktor began to see Yuuri smooth his hands over his belly in the morning, or in the kitchen, subconsciously in a moment of rest.
He caught Yuuri one night playing the music from their pair skates over the years—Stammi Vicino, Life and Love and other commissioned work. Sure, he had hidden the headphones under his shirt, and arranged the laptop in such an uncomfortably plausible way to look like he wasn't… but there was no denying it. Viktor had acknowledged it with a kiss, before joining Yuuri.
He was ready.