Chapter 5: Yuuri's star-crush coach
"Vitya! You just can't leave me. Please stay!"
On his way across Tuchkov Bridge, Viktor stopped. Snow was swirling around him. Yakov stood on the pavement, his saggy features twisted by the anguish of the last few months, enhanced by the despair of losing a student. He had taken off the ring he had been wearing for as long as Viktor knew him.
"Yakov, you were the best coach I ever head," he said softly. "You always will be."
A tram rattled past them, its lights pools of warmth in the darkness.
"If you walk away now, you can never come back."
Viktor's heart twisted. Never in his life had he been so sure about something. He shook off the guilt of leaving Yakov, too, but he had to follow his heart. He walked back.
"I'm sorry, Yakov," he said and embraced the old man. "I can't do as you say this time."
His coach grunted. "You don't get to say that when you've never done as I said in the first place!"
Heart growing heavy, Viktor kissed him on the cheek. "Dasvidaniya."
Then he picked up his suitcase and walked into the winter night.
Viktor woke from something warm and wet caressing his face. Yuuri, he thought, you came to wake me up. Then he became aware of the dog smell and his brain spluttered awake.
Groaning, he sat up. "Morning, Makkachin."
His dog wagged his tail, making high-pitched noises that told of urgent needs. Bright daylight flooded through the shōji windows, yet it felt like it was still in the middle of the night. Seagulls cried in the distance, adding to his confusion. Viktor rubbed his eyes and checked his phone. It was 9:22 a.m. He could not even remember hearing the alarm he had set for 6 a.m.
It's my first day as a coach and I overslept. I can already hear Yakov lecturing me on responsibility.
Viktor angled his legs, waiting for his mind to catch up with the time difference. Last night, after his tears had run dry, Viktor had found new strength in his despair. Life was not a fairy tale, after all; it required perpetual effort, and unlike the Prince from Enchanted, he was well aware of this. Even if Yuuri had never meant to finish Viktor's duet, but had skated that song out of unrequited love, Viktor had set his mind on teaching him. Their encounter at the banquet and the video had happened for a reason. He would find out why Yuuri was acting so weird.
He threw back his blanket and stretched his aching back, popping three vertebrae back in place. Let's hope I didn't throw my back out. I should buy a bed and some more furniture. It doesn't seem as if Yuuri's family can provide them.
After restacking his moving boxes, Viktor found the one with his casual clothes. He put on black trousers, a black T-shirt and a hoodie of the same colour, then snatched a blue parka and left his room.
Yuuri's father, the middle-aged man who had greeted Viktor at his arrival, was in the restaurant laying the tables when Viktor entered, Makkachin prancing around him.
"Ohayō, Mr. Katsuki-san," Viktor greeted the man with the Japanese phrase he had dug out of the internet. Switching back to English, he continued. "Can you tell me where I can find Yuuri?"
The man smiled, then spluttered out a gush of words, beautiful and incomprehensible at once.
"Oh, right. I forgot." Viktor pulled out his phone and opened Google Translate. He repeated his request in Japanese, struggling with the pronunciation.
Yuuri's father gave a polite smile and nodded. His eyes told tales of confusion.
Did he understand me at all? Viktor showed Yuuri's father the translation. The man stared at the display. Then he shouted a quick succession of more incomprehensible beauty. Moments later, Yuuri's sister entered the room. The two started a rapid conversation in Japanese. Then Mari addressed him.
"You have a request, Viktor-san?"
Viktor considered her. Although the Katsuki family so far had been accommodating, he was not sure how welcome he truly was. Which, again, was odd because Yuuri had invited him.
"I'm looking for Yuuri," he told her. "Do you know where I can find him?"
She paused and stared through him, thinking. "Yuuri is cleaning the engawa," she then replied and pointed to something beyond the restaurant.
"Arigatō," Viktor replied.
As he stepped outside a wall of warm damp air hit him as if he had stepped into a greenhouse. He gazed around in wonder.
Where one day ago, the cherry blossoms had been buried under heaps of snow, they now blossomed in unperturbed glory. The snow was gone, except for piles along the pathways, and the sun was blazing from a clear blue sky promising a pleasant April day. At once Viktor regretted having donned his parka, while not bothering to find his sunglasses.
He found Yuuri behind the house on hands and knees, scrubbing the veranda that was running around the building. Viktor's heart did a flip. He stopped, watching Yuuri working the wooden planks until they gleamed, his chubby cheeks glowing from exertion, his delicate eyebrows knitted in determination. It was a side of Yuuri that was new to him. If Viktor had found the drunken Yuuri cute, he found the Yuuri doing chores even cuter.
How well do I know him? he wondered. The banquet and the way Yuuri had skated his free skating routine had made Viktor believe he knew Yuuri on a deeper level, but—fallacy or not―he knew nothing about Yuuri's off-ice life, and so far, Yuuri had not made an attempt to change this.
Time to get to know him better.
Viktor put on a cheerful face. "Good morning, Yuuri."
Yuuri startled. When he lifted his head, his face was frozen with shock. "Go-good morning, Viktor," he spluttered.
"I see you're doing a workout for arms and shoulders. Although these muscles aren't that important for figure skaters unless they do pair skating, it will help you burn the numerous katsudon you've eaten despite not winning anything." Viktor winked. "But take care to not overstrain your back. Kneeling is good for a start, but don't ruin your knees that way."
Yuuri's mouth popped open. His face was so red it was impossible to tell whether it was from embarrassment, exertion, or anger. "How can I help you, Viktor?" he managed eventually.
"It's time to get you back in shape. My jetlag is no excuse for idleness."
"Yes, but…," Yuuri's eyes flitted about, "I am doing chores." He lowered his gaze. "My apologies."
Still so formal. It confused the hell out of Viktor. "Then finish your task later. I'll devise a training schedule that will help you lose weight within a couple of weeks." He crossed the distance and brought his face close to Yuuri's. "Unless you don't want me to coach you," he murmured, brushing his thumb over Yuuri's cheek. It was so soft under his fingertip that Viktor lingered in the sensation, reluctant to let go.
A soft gasp escaped Yuuri's mouth. For the briefest moment, the finely arched eyebrows behind his glasses knitted together in confusion. Then he looked up, still flushed. "O-of course, I would like you to coach me, Viktor. I am deeply grateful for your offer."
The way his eye glazed reignited the hopes Viktor had quelled last night. Maybe, Yuuri was just as star-struck as thousands of other fans, but he wanted Viktor to be here. And his reaction to Viktor's attempts at flirting spoke an unambiguous language, despite his reservedness.
Viktor pulled back. "Wonderful! While I can't teach you on-ice right now, I can still see to your fitness."
"But…" Yuuri trailed off and stared at the half-scrubbed veranda. "I must also help my family with the onsen. It… it is part of my daily duties. I… I promise I will have time for both."
Viktor had no idea what it was like to have family obligations. "Your training schedule will allow for enough time to fulfil your duties," he said with a wave of his hand. He winked. "And for spare time."
"I… um―" Yuuri's head whipped about. "NO!"
Makkachin had jumped onto the boards Yuuri had just scrubbed. Yuuri shouted in Japanese, waving his arms in exasperation. Makkachin barked and pranced about, obviously thinking they were playing a game. Viktor took a hasty step back—just in time as the bucket toppled over. Greyish water splashed over Yuuri and the veranda and dripped onto a flower bed. Yuuri's shoulders slumped as he stared at the scene in dismay. His hair was dripping.
"Now I have to start all over again."
"Makkachin, to me!" Viktor commanded. Panting, his dog jumped to him, soaked, muddy paws and all. "You naughty little scoundrel," Viktor chided while scratching the poodle behind the ears. "How often must I remind you to not distract people from working?"
Makkachin barked and wagged his tail, overly energetic. The walk was overdue.
"He reminds me of Vicchan," Yuuri said wistfully. He took off his glasses and tried to wipe them on his soaked shirt.
"Vicchan?" Viktor repeated frowning at the name.
"Our family dog. He was a toy poodle." His dark eyes flitted about. "He died last December."
"Did you get a new dog?"
Yuuri's shoulders dropped. "No. I do not think a new dog could ever take his place."
Right, Viktor thought, his heart heavy. "Oh. I just thought because your mother used his name so often last night…"
"Oh." Yuuri blushed adorably. "She was talking about you. Vicchan is… um… a pet form of Viktor." He put his glasses back on.
Viktor's heart leapt uncontrollably. "You named your dog after me?"
If anything, Yuuri's blush deepened. "I was twelve," he said quietly as if that could curb the joy the revelation had unleashed. He gazed at the veranda, then down at himself. "Since I am soaked, I might as well go change and start again later."
Hasetsu was a small town with multi-storey dwellings scattered between traditional houses, a tiny harbour with local industry, shops, restaurants, and a beach. Without Google Maps, it would have taken Viktor ages to get to any of these places. Not every street sign had additional English lettering and the addressing system was wild. It would take a while to learn to navigate here, but while Yuuri was losing weight, Viktor had plenty of spare time.
Unlike Makkachin, who was enjoying the exercise, Yuuri was having a hard time keeping up, groaning under his extra kilos and a lack of training. Viktor could hear him panting somewhere behind his bike. Occasionally, he would stop so that Yuuri could catch up, just to speed up before he could succumb to idleness. The fact that Yuuri was in a bad shape was no reason to show mercy. Yuuri barrelled through the exercise, revealing either great ambition or a great capacity for suffering. He would need both to reach his goals.
The snow piling along the streets melted rapidly under the April sun and the cherry blossoms buried the town in heaps of delicate rosé. This is almost like heaven, Viktor thought.
Eventually, they stopped in front of a flat building at the tip of a peninsula dividing river and ocean. Ice Castle Hasetsu, the English letters on the wall heralded. It was the same lettering as in the video.
"Is this where you learned skating?"
Panting, Yuuri collapsed on the stairs leading up to the entrance. "Before I moved to Detroit, yes. I came here a few times since I moved back in with my family."
"I want to see the rink," Viktor said.
"Now?"
"I must see if this provincial building meets my standards as a practice rink."
"Well, it worked for me…"
"Then let's go in." Viktor started up the stairs. "You've run for long enough to deserve a cooling-off as a reward."
"No!" Yuuri jumped to his feet. "Wait!"
Viktor paused. What was this about? "Is it booked?"
"I do not know!" Yuuri yelled and raced up the stairs with an energy Viktor had not thought he had left.
Shaking his head, he tied Makkachin to a lamppost and followed Yuuri inside.
The foyer looked like a typical ice palace for public skating, most likely of little use beyond local competitions. A couple and three girls who had the woman's brown hair and the man's broad features stared at him from behind the counter.
"Hi, I'm Viktor Nikiforov. Starting today, I'm Yuuri's new coach," Viktor greeted them.
They kept staring at him in profound shock. Then, the three girls broke into high-pitched screams with the power to render everyone in the room temporarily deaf. The woman was squealing, too, while the man was uttering noises of disbelief and awe. Well, there was fervent worship.
Yuuri gave an apologetic shrug. "These are my friends Yuuko-san and Nishigori-san and their triplets Axel, Lutz, and Loop," he introduced.
"Nice to meet you," Viktor replied, wondering if these people had truly named their girls after figure skating jumps or if these names were pet names. "Do you run this place?"
The two adults kept staring at him. Either they did not speak English, or his appearance had rendered them speechless.
The man composed himself first. "Ice Castle is honoured to have you here, Viktor-san." His English had a heavy drawl, but he spoke clearly enough for Viktor to understand. He bowed deeply. "I hope you enjoy your stay."
"Is the rink available?" Viktor asked.
"Of course. Please, make yourself at home."
A rapid conversation between Yuuri and the Nishigoris followed. Although Viktor understood nothing, he could guess that Yuuri was explaining things to them. Then Yuuri addressed Viktor in English. "Yuuko asks if you want to borrow skates to conduct your test. She is offering them for free."
Although Viktor appreciated the gesture, the mere thought was ludicrous. He took off his backpack and opened it. "Express my gratitude and tell her I brought my skates." He handed Yuuri the CD case. "And tell them to play this after my warm-up."
Viktor is going to skate at my home rink!
Yuuri's stomach fluttered and his hands were damp. One day, and he could not stop thinking that he was the protagonist of a cheesy Hollywood movie or an unrealistic figure skating fanfiction.
Now, Viktor was warming up in the small fitness room while Nishigori was resurfacing the ice after checking the quality.
"Viktor Nikiforov should not find Ice Castle's ice wanting," Yuuri's friend had explained. "He deserves nothing less than Olympic conditions."
"We'd need to buy a new Zamboni for that," Yuuko had objected. "But Ice Castle doesn't have the means right now."
"It will, once people learn who Yuuri's new coach is," Nishigori had promised and left to ready the Zamboni, taking the complaining triplets with him to keep them from disturbing Viktor during his warm-up.
I'm glad Viktor doesn't speak Japanese, Yuuri thought embarrassed as he watched his idol doing a split, leaning to one side, arms above the head. After the extra intense run and one hour of scrubbing the engawa before that, he was glad for the stool he had found to sit on.
He's so agile. Compared to him, I'm stiff and clumsy, even more so since I stopped practice. I want to be more like him.
"For you."
"Oh." Yuuri took the bottle Yuuko had brought him from the vending machine in the foyer. He had not heard her coming. "Thanks, Yuu-chan."
She hunkered down next to him. "At first, I thought it was a joke when I saw the announcement on the internet last night. I thought he might show up sometime during the off-season. I didn't really believe it until you just showed up with him." Her voice was soft, hushed, laden with admiration as her shining brown eyes regarded Viktor who rose with the elegance of an unworldly being and strode to the opposite wall.
Yuuri opened the bottle and poured water down his parched throat, never taking his eyes off Viktor who now was stretching out his calf, his back to them. "I couldn't believe it, either."
"Do you remember how as kids we used to make up stories in which Viktor comes to Hasetsu to teach us his routines in person?"
Yuuri smiled. "I remember. We pretended he would choreograph new programmes for us."
"And we used our favourite songs not caring they often were much longer or shorter than allowed in competition," Yuuko giggled, "and we refused to edit them because we claimed Viktor would lecture us for destroying a piece of art."
Yuuri chuckled. "The programmes we made up were wild," he said, his gaze at Viktor, who now was stretching his other leg. Is it only me, or is he sticking out his butt?
Next to him, Yuuko gasped softly. Apparently, she had noticed it, too. "We even bickered over who would get to marry him!"
Yuuri took another sip from his bottle, then held it to his cheek to chase off the sudden embarrassment. How silly they had been!
"Nishigori got jealous," he said.
Yuuko's eyes widened. "Really? I don't remember that!"
"He was making fun of us because we swooned over Viktor and copied his routines. He really hated it."
"Nah, that's just Nishigori!" Giggling, Yuuko waved a hand. "You know how boys are at that age!"
I wasn't like that, Yuuri thought. "I think he felt left out," he said, remembering how he had felt when Yuuko had started to spend more time with Nishigori and Yuuri had suddenly found himself copying Viktor's routines alone. He had not understood how someone who was teasing other people all the time was so much more fun to be around than someone one shared a passion with.
"But he was always welcome to join…" She trailed off, her dilated pupils transfixing Viktor.
Yuuri followed her gaze. Yes, Viktor was definitely sticking out his butt. It looked as well-sculpted as the rest of his body Yuuri had gotten a very clear glimpse of in his parents' onsen.
Viktor pushed himself off the wall. He spun and swept back his hair. His blue eyes snapped to Yuuri and Yuuko. He grinned and winked. "Do you like my warm-up?"
"It's fascinating to see how the five-time world champion warms up before he takes the ice," Yuuko said breathlessly, whereas Yuuri could only stare.
"Oh, that was just the warm-up of the warm-up," Viktor said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Just wait and see what comes next." He winked again and took off his hoodie, revealing muscular, well-shaped arms.
Yuuko made a soft sound. "He's so hot," she whispered, her voice raspy as if she had gotten something into her throat, while Yuuri kept marvelling at the topography of Viktor's arms.
He's so beautiful. How can one watch him and not crumple in an instant in the face of his radiance?
They watched in silence as Viktor swept through the choreography of Stammi Vicino with the same grace that had captivated Yuuri fourteen years ago. Seeing him move like this even off-ice unleashed a joy within Yuuri that made his eyes water.
He's preparing to skate his free programme! But of course, he needs to skate a full programme to test if this rink fulfils his requirements.
What would happen if Ice Castle was below Viktor's standards? Would he take Yuuri to Russia and train him at Yubileyny? Would he find another practice rink in Japan? There was another rink in Fukuoka, but commuting several hours per day did not appeal to Yuuri at all.
"He's so ethereal," Yuuko whispered. "I always thought I knew what true beauty was, but seeing him in front of me…" She suppressed a squeal.
"I know what you mean," Yuuri said quietly, still unable to take his eyes off Viktor who did not seem to notice them
"What is he like?"
Sassy bordering on rudeness, Yuuri thought, remembering Viktor's remarks about his weight and his advances later last night. He smiled. "He's totally different from how I imagined him."
"I'm sure you had many questions for him, right Yuuri-kun?"
There were many things Yuuri would like to know from Viktor, but his mind was still wiped blank. "Oh, we didn't really talk."
"Oh."
In the middle of the room, Viktor stopped and stood with his crossed arms pressed to his chest as he did a breathing exercise.
"It must have been quite an intimidating situation for you," Yuuko continued.
I wonder if this will get better or if I won't be able to talk to him for as long as he will be coaching me, Yuuri thought as Viktor twisted his torso in violent motions to prepare his body for jumping.
"He was in the onsen when you learned of his arrival, right?"
Yuuri nodded.
Yuuko squealed and clapped her hands. Her eyes flitted to Viktor. For one moment, Viktor's eyes flickered to them. Hastily, she covered her mouth. "What does he look like?" She nudged Yuuri. "Is he… yummy?"
"Um…" He had been so preoccupied with processing the situation that not much beyond the fact that Viktor Nikiforov was standing stark naked in his family's hot spring had registered with Yuuri. Yet he felt a strange reluctance to share such private information with his friend. As he faced Yuuko, his cheeks were warmer than he liked.
"He looks like an athlete."
When Viktor entered the rink, recognition set in immediately. The Japanese advertisements on the boards, the tall windows, the place's name in Latin letters on the far wall―here, Yuuri had recorded the video that had brought Viktor to his town.
As he glided across the ice, he noted its softness, the light incidence, and how both created mirror images on the ice. The windows were to the west, making artificial lights redundant during the day while preventing glare due to direct sunlight. That was a definite pro.
Yuuri and the Nishigori family were watching in awe, the girls' heads just perking over the barrier with phones and cameras. Although Viktor pretended indifference, it meant something to him that Yuuri was among the spectators. He had been watching during the entire off-ice warm-up too, filling Viktor with pleasure and satisfaction that reignited the fickle hope that Yuuri was still interested in him but was too shy to act upon it.
Having familiarised himself with the ice, Viktor positioned himself in the middle of the rink and motioned for the Nishigoris to play the CD.
You called, and I came. Here's my answer, Yuuri.
The first notes of Stammi Vicino floated through the rink.
Viktor turned his gaze to the ceiling, reaching upwards in longing for the voice that was calling him from far away. As if catching and securing the voice, he pulled both arms to his chest and set off in elegant turns.
When he had skated this routine last, he had felt nothing but desolation. Now, even without looking at the barrier, he felt Yuuri watching him. Skating for an anonymous crowd, scores, and medals could not conjure the emotions Yuuri's enamoured gaze unleashed. It filled each and every step with a vibrancy that hit Viktor with unexpected intensity. Whether Yuuri had sung this song back at him in desperate pining or star-struck infatuation, it had ignited a spark of life in the wasteland of Viktor's heart.
Do you see what your video did to me, Yuuri? Do you see what you did to me in Sochi?
A collective gasp came from the barrier when he jumped the quad flip. As Viktor exited the jump, he caught a glimpse of Yuuri watching him with the same dreamy expression he had worn in that photo made during the official practice in Sochi. So, he had indeed been watching me.
And yet he plays indifferent whenever we're together. Why is he like this?
Anger flared up, and Viktor used it to push himself off the ice in a triple Axel. He had not come here to be kept at an arm's length. He could not even build a relationship with Yuuri via their mutual passion because Yuuri was in no shape for skating. At the barrier, Yuuri and Nishigori had started a whispered conversation in Japanese. Nishigori put a meaty arm around Yuuri, who was still wearing that dreamy expression, and mussed up his hair.
Now be silent.
Viktor was already spinning in camel position. Our fans already take us for a couple or think it will happen soon. It makes it even harder to bear Yuuri's indifference. He swept through the choreo sequence, feeling sharp like a sword as he lifted his free leg for the Kerrigan spiral. Something in Viktor snapped.
"Just so you know: the little piggy can't enter the rink until he drops some body fat!" he called.
Yuuri gasped, and his eyes glazed over. "Are you really going to make me win?" he blurted out.
"Sure. The sooner we can start the better!" Viktor called, and jumped into the flying sit spin. And let's hope this will either reignite his burning passion or kill mine for good. Yet, Viktor could not help wishing that this story that was making less and less sense would become the fairy tale he had been dreaming of.
Viktor let the music resonate with his emotions and carry him through the step sequence. Stay by my side, don't leave. I'm afraid of losing you. Strangely, the lyrics felt more real to him than ever, and nothing about it was comforting. He was finally here and yet it felt as if he and Yuuri were a universe apart. This was not like it was supposed to be.
Let's show him how much I want to be with him.
He adjusted his transitions to his position in the rink so that it brought him to the spot where Yuuri was standing behind the barrier when he reached out with his arms.
Your hands, your legs. My hands, my legs. Let our heartbeats fuse together.
Yuuko gasped. Nishigori uttered a low noise of disbelief. A hushed "wow" rose from the triplets, and Yuuri's mouth popped open.
Viktor glided backwards, bringing both arms in front of him as if giving Yuuri his heart.
Let's do this together, Yuuri. I'm ready.
Feeling his legs tiring, he launched into the final jump element, pouring all his strength into the quad-toe triple-toe combination, then entered the change foot combination spin as the song crescendoed to its glorious end.
He stopped, hugging his arms around his chest as if he was holding someone shorter than him, panting. The final note had barely faded when fervent applause and screeches echoed through the rink.
Viktor gave an elegant bow.
"That was amazing!" Yuuko exclaimed, while the girls were screaming in Japanese and her husband nodded in respect.
Viktor swept back his sweaty hair. "This rink meets my expectations as a practice rink," he announced as he glided to the barrier.
"Oh, cool!" Yuuko exclaimed.
The girls screamed in unison, waving their phones and cameras.
"They say they want you to train Yuuri here so they can watch," Nishigori translated. His voice grew stern as he faced his daughters. It sounded as if he was lecturing them. The girls screamed in protest.
Putting on a dazzling smile, Viktor faced Yuuri. "Yuuri. How did you like my performance?"
"I… I will exercise very hard so you can start teaching me soon," Yuuri spluttered, blushing.
"I will hold you to your promise," Viktor replied with a wink, smiling away his disappointment. What else must I do for you to be as affectionate as you were at the banquet, Yuuri? What do you want from me?
"Nishigori says, he will talk to his superiors about rink times."
"Thank you," Viktor told the sturdy man.
"We are pleased to have you teaching our Yuuri at Ice Castle Hasetsu, Viktor-san," Nishigori replied.
"If your superiors make any trouble, I'll talk to them in person." Viktor tapped a finger against his chin in thought and winked. "I happen to know a few tricks on how having an international celebrity teaching at their rink will bestow them with more guests."
Panting, Yuuri collapsed on a stool in Minako's snack bar. His T-shirt was plastered to his back. His lungs were burning, his legs were jelly from the exertion they had suffered that day, and his leggings were all that kept them from falling apart. The elderly man sitting at a window table was eyeing him, a piece of sushi between his chopsticks as if Yuuri was a disturbance to his solitude.
"Yuuri!" his former ballet instructor exclaimed. She paused from filling wasabi nuts in small bowls and scrutinised him across the bar. "What happened to you?"
"Just… exercising."
"Looks more like overexercising." She grabbed a glass from the shelf behind the bar and poured water into it. "Drink."
Yuuri downed the water in one go and winced as his oesophagus froze over. "Thanks."
"Nonsense." She regarded him, her dark eyes narrowed. "Where's your coach?"
There was that. The last time Yuuri had seen Viktor had been when they had returned from the rink. Torn between avoidance and the desire to spend every waking hour in Viktor's presence, Yuuri's awkwardness had won and thus he had picked up his chores. It was early evening when he had traded his dirty clothes for a T-shirt and leggings and headed to Minako's. Should I have asked Viktor to join me? Yuuri wondered now. Or would that look pathetic? My business with Minako isn't really his business, right?
"I need your help to get me back in shape, Minako-sensei!" he told her. "Please give me ballet lessons again!"
Her face lit up. "I'd love to!" Wiping her hands clean, she locked the till. Then she arranged the wasabi bowls on a tray and danced through the bar, putting a bowl on each table. "When you've finished eating, just hang the closed sign on the door," she told the elderly man. "You can pay tomorrow."
"Thank you very much, Minako-san," the old man replied.
"Come," she said and pulled Yuuri outside.
"But…," Yuuri protested. "You're working!"
"And teaching you is work as well," she said as she dragged him along the street. "I must check how bad of shape you are in!"
Thirteen years of ballet classes under Minako-sensei had taught Yuuri that resisting was futile. Thus, he followed her to her studio one block away. As a boy, Yuuri had spent more time here than at home. He had loved ballet long before he had fallen in love with the ice. Because of her, he had tried skating.
Minako threw open all windows and hung her dark-blue blazer over the barre. Underneath, she was wearing a white blouse that looked fancier on her than Yuuri was used to.
"Yesterday, you said that Viktor has taken next season off to consider the future of his career," he said while he warmed up at the barre. The rays of the evening sun slanted through the windows, bathing the studio in fiery light.
The words were still stuck in Yuuri's mind. Last night, there had been no opportunity to discuss them because Minako's excited screaming that one of her favourite figure skaters was in town had woken Viktor.
"But you also said he came here because of me. I don't understand."
Minako shrugged. "Maybe he just wanted an excuse to take a break."
Yuri winced. He wanted so badly to believe that Viktor's motives were sincere. Although he still had no clue what was so special about him. He had imitated Viktor over and over, trying to catch up to him, but all his efforts had only proven that he was mediocre. How could seeing Yuuri skating his routine inspire the greatest figure skater in history? Surely, he was not helping Yuuri out of pity. No, his reasons most likely were of a selfish nature.
"Don't say that," he said. "That's what I suspect too, but…"
His ballet instructor sighed. "You decided to keep skating, didn't you?" When Yuuri nodded, her eyes glazed over, and she spun around. "You need to take advantage of Viktor!"
"Um," Yuuri said. Somehow, taking advantage of a god-like creature felt wrong.
"Okay." Minako clapped her hands. "Let's get you slimmed down! Get ready, then show me what you've got."
"Yes, Minako-sensei."
"Get up."
Yuuri stood.
"Now do the five ballet positions," she instructed him. "On my command."
Following her orders, Yuuri arranged his arms and feet, clenching his teeth as his muscles protested. Minako walked around him, eyeing his posture from all sides.
"Hm," she said eventually. "Go to the barre." She waited until Yuuri was there, then continued, "And now, plie, relevé, sauté―" Yuuri jumped, clenching his teeth. "Retiré, arabesque, penché—stop!"
With a suppressed groan, Yuuri faced her.
"It's hard to believe that you skated a perfect copy of Viktor Nikiforov's free skating routine with that untrained body of yours," Minako-sensei remarked dryly.
Well, I can't believe that either, Yuuri thought. Least of all the result of it. "I just summoned the emotions the routine required," he said.
"That was hard to miss." Tiny wrinkles creased the corners of her eyes. "Now do some stretching, then we repeat."
"Yes, Minako-sensei." Preparing himself for a humiliating lesson, Yuuri returned to the barre. Better let the woman who knew him for most of his life see his abysmal shape than the man he wanted to impress. I don't care what it will cost me, but I'll work hard to ensure I won't waste Viktor's time. I want him to see that he made the right choice in becoming my coach.
"Your shape is terrible, but since you're blessed with lots of stamina and determination, we will have you back in shape in a few weeks," Minako told him one excruciating hour later. The sky behind the windows had turned a dark blue and dozens of lights shimmered warmly in neighbouring buildings.
"Thank you, Minako-sensei," Yuuri replied with a bow. "I owe you."
She snorted. "Don't offend me, young man."
"How long do you think it will take until I've lost my extra weight?"
She pursed her lips, scrutinising him. "That depends. Anyway, don't overdo it. You won't do yourself a favour if you get an eating disorder."
Yuuri spared himself the humiliation of admitting that an eating disorder had earned him enough extra weight to enter the lowest sumō weight category in the first place. But he had been depressed. The effect Viktor's presence in his home had on him was way more rewarding than food.
"I won't, Minako-sensei," he promised.
Minako smiled. "Life has offered a chance most people can only dream of, Yuuri. If there's anything I can do to help you, just ask and I'll be there."
That night, Yuuri's mother served miso soup, katsudon, sweet buns, and green tea for dinner. While eating, Viktor browsed articles on the most effective ways for an athlete to lose weight and put his findings into a spreadsheet—all on the laptop he had placed on the low dining table. His experience in recovery was based on forced breaks due to injury, not on idleness and overindulgence. He had never needed to keep his weight in check and simply adjusted his diet to the amount of exercise.
The inn door opened and Yuuri walked in wearing a T-shirt and leggings, his hair mussed up. Viktor's heart skipped a beat. He was so exceptionally cute!
"Did Makkachin bother you again during chores?"
Yuuri slumped in the seat opposite Viktor. "I went to my former ballet instructor to resume lessons. She agreed to help me get back in shape. Minako Okukawa—you met her yesterday."
The brown-haired woman who had burst with the excitement Viktor had been hoping to find in Yuuri. "I've made a training schedule I want you to stick to while you're dieting," Viktor told him. "When will you be working with her?"
"She will be teaching me in the afternoons before her bar opens." With a quickly averted, but nonetheless doleful gaze at Viktor's food, Yuuri sighed. "I requested daily lessons."
"You're eager." Viktor smiled at him. "I like that."
Yuuri blushed.
While Viktor added the ballet classes to the spreadsheet, Hiroko Katsuki appeared with more soup, rice and a second cup. She and Yuuri exchanged a few words in Japanese of which Viktor only understood "Vicchan", making him wonder whether they were talking about their late dog or if they had already given him a pet name. After inquiring about the food and Viktor assuring her via her son that it was, again, excellent, she withdrew.
"So," Viktor ventured when she was gone. "In order to know what we're dealing with… how many extra kilos are we talking about?"
"Um…" Yuuri shifted around in his seat. "Nine-point-six last time I checked." His cheeks turned crimson. "As Minako-sensei said, I gain weight easily."
"When was the last time you checked?"
"Last week. But… I can check again now if you wish!"
"Never mind. Weight is subject to natural fluctuations; the human body is no machine. If your weight has changed in the meantime, that's more likely due to this than overindulgence."
Across the table, Yuuri's eyes glazed over, the chopsticks forgotten between his fingers.
Pitching into his katsudon, Viktor did the figures. Ten kilos in four months were a lot. A rule of thumb claimed that losing weight took as long as it had taken to gain it. Thus, Yuuri would be fit for skating in August. That was unacceptable. But how fast someone lost weight depended on many factors. That was why it was a rule of thumb.
"What has your training looked like since the Grand Prix Final, Yuuri?"
"I stopped practice after Nationals." If possible, Yuuri blushed even more. "I only did some skating for myself."
"Some skating for myself" seemed a vast understatement given the video. Skating, however, was out of the question as long as Yuuri was overweight as every additional kilo increased the risk of injury. Annoying as it was, Viktor had to take care of this before he could see Yuuri skate again.
"All right." He shifted blocks of text in his spreadsheet, frowned at the result, rearranged the blocks, frowned again, and rearranged again. "Here's your schedule," he said and turned the laptop around.
Yuuri's eyes went wide. "This is a lot just for losing weight," he breathed.
"If you want to win the next Grand Prix Final, that's the deal," Viktor said without mercy.
Under his chubby cheeks, Yuuri's jaws hardened with determination. "I will give getting back in shape my all so you can start teaching me soon, Viktor. No matter what it takes."
Although he was still so formal, the fervour in Yuuri's voice raised new hopes that coming here had not been in vain.
"If you give me your email, I'll send you the schedule," Viktor said.
"It is katsukiyuri ."
"Makes sense." Viktor typed the address into his mail programme and attached the spreadsheet. He added his phone number in the text field. I'm sorry I didn't think of this earlier, he wrote. It would have saved both of them a lot of trouble. And maybe, Yuuri would not be acting so strange now.
Putting down his chopsticks, Yuuri gazed at his phone. He frowned, then picked it up and typed something. Seconds later, Viktor had a new message in his inbox. It only contained a number. Smiling, he added it to his address book.
"Would you mind telling me your socials, too?" Viktor winked. "As your coach, I should know them."
"Um," Yuuri said. "I'm on Twitter." He typed something into his phone and one moment later, Viktor's phone buzzed.
Katsudon Yuuri katsudonyuuri. The profile picture showed a poodle pup. I like katsudon and dogs, the bio read.
Viktor chuckled. And I thought this was an abandoned fan account! I could have reached out to him months ago!
"I'd love to invite you over to get to know you better, but I still have boxes to unpack," Viktor said after dinner.
Blushing, Yuuri paused. "No problem. I am tired from all the exercise today."
Viktor smiled away his disappointment. "Well, then you should rest."
"Thank you." At the stairs, Yuuri stopped, swallowed, and faced Viktor. "Tomorrow morning at seven then?"
"Yes," Viktor replied. "Bring water. You will need it."
"Okay." Again, he hesitated. "Good night, Viktor."
Viktor smiled. "Good night, Yuuri."
Yuuri trudged up the stairs. Suddenly, Viktor couldn't hold back any longer on the thing that had been bugging him all day.
"Ah, Yuuri, there's something I'd like to ask you."
Wary like a frightened deer, Yuuri stopped. "Yes?"
"I was just wondering why at the Grand Prix Final banquet―"
All colour fled from Yuuri's face. His eyes widened, then his face went scarlet.
"I do not want to talk about the banquet!" he blurted out. The wood under his feet thundered as he bolted upstairs. Moments later, a door slammed shut.
Huh? Viktor thought, staring at the spot where Yuuri had vanished. Did I offend him?
Post chapter scene
"How do you wish to pay for your purchase?" the shop assistant asked.
Yuuri translated the question into English.
"Do you accept Visa Card?" Viktor asked, producing a card from his purse, its silvery surface gleaming in the lighting of the furniture shop.
The shop assistant's head bobbed. "Yes."
"How soon can you deliver the items?" Yuuri asked.
"Please wait, while I am checking with our delivery service." She typed into her computer, frowning over the monitor. "The next slot available is on Saturday. Do you wish our service to assemble the items for you?"
"That's too long!" Viktor protested when Yuuri relayed the words to him. "I was hoping to sleep in a real bed tonight or I'll have thrown out my back completely by the end of the week!"
"I will ask if they offer to let us collect the purchase." Yuuri faced the shop assistant. "Viktor would like to have the furniture today. Would it be possible to pick it up at the warehouse? We have a van. If the items need to be readied, we could come back later. We do not mind building them on our own."
The shop assistant's face brightened with a smile as she regarded Yuuri and Viktor. "Of course, you can take your purchase with you. Our delivery service will ready the packages. Please come back in one hour." Her head bobbed. "Thank you for shopping at Takano Mokkou. Our house wishes you all the best for your life together."