Mikhail still smoked, which probably explained why he looked thirty years older than Hiroko and Toshiya did. At least he was polite about it, sitting on the porch overlooking the garden, the door closed behind him. Viktor found him like this, and sat next to him before his legs decided to bring him back inside.
It was still grey outside, but the torrential rain that Akari had arrived in hadn't returned. The figurative and literal atmosphere were both stifling.
"I'm still angry." Viktor said instead of a morning greeting.
"I wouldn't expect any less." Mikhail pressed the butt of the cigarette into the ceramic ashtray that perpetually sat on the porch.
"I'm only doing this for my daughter."
"You're a better man than I am." Mikhail sighed, turning to his son with a wry smile. Viktor stared back, at a loss for words.
"Yuuri's a better man than either of us." He watched his father's reaction. He had a tinge of confusion, but he didn't say anything. Viktor had imagined bringing the subject up—imagining Yuuri going through the same lectures and lessons Viktor had, the target only a little left of center. He had nightmares of Yuuri leaving him, his father pushing Yuuri too far, calling him a woman one too many times.
Instead, Mikhail nodded.
"You know, I'm not straight. I'm even gayer than I was when I was 12." Viktor prodded again. He wasn't getting the reaction he had expected for so many years. "I've been going to Pride parades for more than a decade. I started a resource center in high school and university."
"You're exactly like your mother." Mikhail smiled. "Fierce to the last atom."
"Do you still think I'm going to hell?"
"That decision is made by a higher power than I."
Viktor shrugged. A better answer than he expected.
"What do you want?" He was still exhausted, even with three days at home. Akari didn't sleep for more than 4 hours at a time, and it was easier to take his daughter in his arms than it was to push Yuuri from sleep at 6 am.
"To know my son. My granddaughter."
"And Yuuri?"
"Hiroko is very deft with a dictionary."
Viktor blinked. "You talked?"
"For hours. The first night, she told me that I would treat Yuuri well, or I would find myself on a one way train to the airport.
Better than he deserved.
"Why should Akari know you?" He had only known Akari for a few days, but he was already fiercly protective of her. Maybe he was even before she was born.
"Vitya, I want to try. I didn't understand, but I am trying now."
"I didn't need you to understand." Viktor felt his spine straighten, injected with adrenaline and anger. "I needed you to try. I needed you to love me regardless."
"I have always loved you, my son."
"No, you haven't. Yakov loved me. Yuuri loves me." Viktor felt himself start to shake. "I've watched Yuuri be terrified. He was scared he'd disappoint me, that he was keeping me from being happy. But he tried. He went out there and fought harder than anyone I've ever known. He even was going to end his own career so I would be able to skate again. But he listened to me. I've never had a single day where I worried if he loves me or not. He has no idea what he's doing, but he tries. That's more than I can say for you."
Viktor had been too wrapped up in his own words to notice the shoji screen door slide open. Yuuri was standing behind them, Akari wrapped in her sling and tied to his chest. His hand rested on his hip, and he looked expertly blank.
"Vitya, I need you." Yuuri's Russian was terse, enough that Viktor leapt up to his feet. Yuuri stepped back, sliding the door shut behind them a little too fast.
"What's wrong Yuuri?" Viktor felt his heart beat out of his chest as Yuuri gingerly undid the fabric of the sling.
"Hold the baby."
"Are you going to be sick?" Viktor's eyes immediately went to Yuuri's stomach.
"Just hold the baby." Yuuri nearly jostled Akari out of her sleep, but like her father, when she was out…she was out. Viktor took her in his arms before a sly smirk appeared on his lips.
"Do you feel better?"
"Yuuri, I don't understand." He started bouncing Akari in his arms. "Did you just….trick me?"
"Pinch her fat little cheeks."
Viktor stared at his husband.
"Do it." Yuuri said with the same tone as he had on the ice- pulling ties, and other times, pulling clothes off.
Viktor pinched Akari's cheek. Her tiny brow furrowed, but she didn't cry. Viktor tried it again, massaging the soft skin.
"I….feel better." Viktor murmured, moving Akari to lay against his chest. "How did you know?"
Yuuri gave him a look, before the sass-Yuuri faded. "You were getting loud."
Viktor could feel his cheeks flush red with embarrassment. Yuuri saw all sides of him, but he still careful cultivated what parts of him saw the light of day, and what stayed behind a mask.
"It's been four days. It's impossible to get over years like that so quickly."
"But Yuuri, you said I had to for Akari…"
"Yeah, and you did!" Yuuri's voice rose along with his shoulders. "I meant get out of the car and talk to him, not figure out 15 years of your life in two days! Vitya, I'm proud of you already. You've done a lot. More than me, and I see my dad every day." Viktor could see the shine of tears beginning in Yuuri's eyes. Before the tears could run over his cheeks, Yuuri pushed forward, pressing himself to Viktor and a kiss to his lips, Akari between them.
~~~

"I don't want to go." Viktor hedged again. It had been years since he had been forced away from Yuuri, and that was only because of competition. Now, it was Yuuri telling him to spend a day showing his father around Hasetsu and the bigger Japanese-style garden in Fukuoka. It was the first time he would be away from Yuuri, and now his daughter too.
"I know. I don't want you to either."
Viktor brightened, but Yuuri's expression remained firm. "But you need to do it, otherwise you won't have any happy memories with your dad."
"I'm not going to make happy memories. I am already not happy." Viktor pouted. Akari moved her arms around as if she was slowly performing some sort of martial art, and was dressed in an outfit Yuuri wasn't allowed to know the price of.
"Go do it, or you'll stay mad, and Akari is going to grow up with daddy issues all because of you." Yuuri held up Akari to punctuate his point.
"Yuuri, you are so mean!" Viktor whined, but leaned down for a kiss, pulling on a day-bag and venturing out of their temporary bedroom to fetch his father.
An hour later, Viktor's safe arrival text chimed on Yuuri's phone.
Yuuri stared at Akari. He stuck out his tongue at her, before feeling foolish. This was a baby, not Mochi or Makkachin. She wouldn't leap up to kiss him or whine happily.
A few seconds of berated himself, Akari stuck her tongue out.
Two hours later, Viktor sent a picture of a flower that 'reminded me of you'. Yuuri sent a heart emoji back, because it was easier than asking how or trying to understand Viktor when he acted lovesick.
Three hours later and an Instagram alert popped up—Viktor was having lunch, with a generous and early mug of beer in the corner of the photo.
Akari was on her third bottle of the day. Yuuri could mix the formula and water in his sleep—he was pretty sure he had once, too.
Viktor goes on radio silence the same time Akari decides to cry for an hour straight.
A clean diaper. A full belly. He wrapped her in one of Viktor's sweaters, then one of his own.
She still fussed, her face red and wrinkled.
He bounced her.
He put on the same music he had played for her when she was still in the womb.
He set her down in her bassinet, going to squeeze the life out a pillow when the doorbell rang.
Yuuri paused to grab his inkan in case he needed to stamp his signature on a delivery slip, opening the door with the gusto of someone on their way to their execution.
"Hello darling! You look amazing!" Minako-sensei sang. Yuuri looked down at his sweatpants, and the shirt he was pretty sure was stained with something to do with the baby.
"Minako-sensei…." Yuuri could only mangage her name, dumbfounded. She had a gift bag tied with a frilly pink bow, as well as a tightly wrapped and tied takeout bag. He stepped aside just as Minako invited herself inside, close enough to see Minako's grimace at the crying.
"It's not really a good time—My mom's out and Viktor's in Fukuoka with—"
"Don't be silly. I'm here for you and Akkachan." Minako waved a hand. Yuuri winced.
"Her nickname is Katya…" He mumbled, before the pink bag was shoved into his hands.
"She's been crying for an hour…" Yuuri started. He felt his eyes sting with the beginning of tears. It was one thing to face it—he had years of practice dissociating and months of parenting articles behind him. But once he said it, the tears flowed.
Minako still smiled, though it had a tint of pity to it. "Let me see her."
Yuuri shuffled back to his bedroom, glad that they had been too busy (healing or otherwise) to make much a mess of it. Akari seemed to sense their entry, her cry picking up into a higher pitch.
Yuuri sank down into the rocking chair Viktor had ordered on Amazon two weeks ago, pressing a pillow to his stomach. He rubbed his cheeks dry as Minako scooped Akari from her bed.
He watched as she lifted herself onto her toes, moving into position. His heartrate lifted as Minako twirled with Akari in her arms, lifting her higher into the air as she moved into fifth position. She gracefully moved into a plie, moving across the room with Akari. She matched the music that still played in the background, tinny from Viktor's laptop speakers.
Yuuri did a double take. He could hear the music—Akari had stopped crying. She was even dozing as Minako set her back into her bassinette, tucking a blanket around her.
"Why can't I do that?" Yuuri felt his voice warble and the tears threaten to spill over again. He thought he had tried everything, and Minako waltzed in, and the first thing she tried worked. Minako had said her ballet students were all the children she needed, and yet here she was, a better parent than Yuuri.
"Do you hear yourself talk, boy? You can." Minako clucked, playfully putting her hands on her hips. "Don't tell me you've forgotten the YEARS of training I gave you."
"Of course not…" Yuuri decided to stare at his feet. He remembered the bruises from hours of practice, and then from falls on the ice.
"I just came in here and did what I thought you and Vicchan would do." Minako sat on the edge of their bed. "But I slept for nine hours straight, and have held at least ten more babies than you have."
"But I was so good at it at Mommy and Me classes at the rink…" Yuuri sniffled.
"You still are. But the babies aren't just visiting, and Akari knows you better than some Russian moms wanting to see some hot skater ass."
Yuuri choked. Minako was still as embarrassingly brash as ever.
"The thing about kids, is that they are terrifying. You never know what you're doing, and you feel like they're going to die if you don't constantly watch them."
Yuuri nodded, hugging the pillow tightly. "It's not fun at all. Viktor fusses so much, I feel like I'm going crazy."
"But it will be okay, and worth it. Because I know Akari is the luckiest girl in the world to have you and Viktor loving her."
Minako left after sitting Yuuri down with the food she brought from the café across from her studio. She talked about her students, and the latest skating competitions. It was the first conversation Yuuri had in a week that didn't revolve around Akari or Viktor's father.
When Viktor pulled into the driveway, Yuuri was exhausted but happy. Akari had napped, before waking for another feeding. Yuuri had danced his Olympic free skate with her—gingerly avoiding the jumps. Akari calmed, sleeping against his shoulder as the day wore on.
"How was your day?" Yuuri asked as Viktor came in, immediately slumping against him. Yuuri wrapped his arms around Viktor, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. Viktor only made a tragic sounding noise, nuzzling his face into Yuuri's shoulder.
"Minako-sensei visited." Yuuri continued, reminded by the visit at the crinkle of Viktor's knee against the gift bag Yuuri had left on the bed.
"This is from her?" Viktor murmured, shifting so he could pick it up, but was still touching Yuuri. He no longer asked about opening it—they had learned that culture shock years ago. He pulled at the tape holding it shut, before pulling out the blanket. Spreading it out, you could see how crooked and lopsided it was, but it was handstitched with care. Minako had crocheted a blanket of soft pinks and purple granny squares.
"I love it." Viktor cooed, holding it up before carefully tiptoeing over to tuck it around Akari.
"She helped me a lot." Yuuri mumbled, not really wanting to go into details.
"You did too. You were right." Viktor sighed, crawling back onto the bed. "I realized the last happy memory I had my dad wasn't happy at all."
Yuuri moved closer, leaning into Viktor this time. "How?"
"My mother was dying, and my Dad tried to be there. We went to an amusement park. I loved the carousel. It was absolutely gorgeous, painted with gold and lit up… But that was the last time I saw my dad smile."
"I don't think there's a carousel in Fukuoka…" Yuuri traced soft patterns on Viktor's legs.
"There isn't. But once we got to Fukuoka, and I remembered the first time you brought me there. I felt… happy… and he relaxed too." Viktor's shoulders raised, his voice and face full of wonder. "We talked, and he… he said husband and daughter. And what is crazy… is that it felt normal. I wasn't angry. I didn't look at him and feel my stomach twist. I just saw an old man…"
"That's called a breakthrough." Yuuri teased.
"I'm exhausted, though. I'd be happy if I didn't need to talk to him for a week."
"But after that?"
"I'll think about it."