Chapter Text
Yuri had always known his soulmate would be a foreigner. The katakana were the first clue, since a Japanese name would be in kanji. And after all, Victor was hardly a common name in Japan. Perhaps he would study abroad in college or travel as part of his job. He spent many long hours ever since he could read the name wondering and dreaming about his match.
When he was 12 he saw Victor Nikiforov skate for the very first time. Yuuko had tuned the tiny TV in the Ice Castle to the junior free skate GPF and they watched together in awe as the Russian blew away the competition effortlessly.
He couldn’t tear his eyes off the screen as he skated. Yuri wanted to skate that way some day; it seemed as natural as breathing. But it was more than his skating that had caught Yuri’s attention. The older boy had the same name as his soulmate!
*****
His infatuation with Victor Nikiforov intensified as the years passed. Yu-chan teased him a little about adopting Vicchan after reading the article about Victor’s poodle, but Yuri didn’t mind. Nishigori laughed at him as he practiced Victor’s routines with Yu-chan, but his skating only improved until his friend couldn’t tease him anymore.
He was so nervous when he first qualified to skate competitively in juniors that he flubbed nearly all his jumps and didn’t even place in the Nationals. But his friends encouraged him to try again, saying Victor wouldn’t give up over one bad performance.
So instead he spent hours practicing in Minako-sensei’s studio and the Ice Castle, honing his skills and trying to keep his anxiety in check. Slowly his confidence came back and he won a few bronze medals. It wasn’t as exciting as a gold, but it was something special nonetheless.
Yuri frequently dreamed of one day sharing the ice with Victor as an equal. In his more elaborate daydreams, he skated a routine that Victor couldn’t ignore, pouring his heart out on the ice and narrowly snatching the gold from his idol. Victor was so impressed that he sought Yuri out afterwards, sweeping him off his feet into a kiss before revealing his own soulmark. It would never happen, but it was a pleasant dream.
*****
When he was 18, Yuri and his parents had saved enough to get into the skating program run by Celestino Cialdini in Detroit. His family was extremely supportive of his skating, especially his sister. She was the only one he had confided about his soulmark to, and she had encouraged him to apply to the program in the US. They both thought it was more likely he would run into his soulmate there than in Japan, and Celestino was one of the best coaches around.
He dated a few times during his first year in the States but had trouble opening up about himself, especially because their marks didn’t match his own. Probably the closest he came to a true relationship was Clare, a music composition major who was in his freshman seminar. They got along well despite his emotional reserve, and could have been great friends if he’d been a little more confident in himself.
Yuri had commissioned a song from her to express his skating career and had hoped to use it for his free skate that year. Celestino’s lukewarm response to the song changed his mind and he put the cd away on his shelf intending to revisit it but lacking the motivation. A week later he received a text from Clare.
Their friendship began to fray after that, and he couldn’t find the energy needed to repair it. Their marks didn’t match anyway, he told himself. He wasn't just a coward...
*****
It was two years after he started training in Detroit that he first skated on the same ice as Victor Nikiforov. Yuri was a nervous wreck. What if it was totally obvious how head-over-heels he was? What if Victor just thought he was some stupid fan? The reality ended up even worse: Victor didn’t even seem to notice him during his short program!
Yuri was so frustrated the next day that he didn’t pay attention to where he was when he sped up for a jump during the warm up before the free skate. Before he knew it he had slammed into Christophe Giacometti, sending both of them sprawling onto the ice.
He rose and offered Christophe a hand up. “ Moushi wakenai , Giacometti-san. I wasn’t looking where I was going,” Yuri said, face burning in embarrassment.
“It’s okay, it happens,” Chris said, taking the hand up with a smile. “You don’t seem the sort to try to take out the competition,” he added with a wink and a grin. “But next time I’ll know it was on purpose.” Yuri laughed weakly at the joke, but he was rattled.
Shaking with nerves he went over to Celestino where he waited along the rail. Yuri had been unlucky enough to draw the first slot and he worried about the difficulty of the routine. He could only land one quad somewhat reliably outside of practice, and this free skate incorporated two. Celestino had told him before that he could win without them, but Yuri was stubborn; a trait he now deeply regretted.
Trying to calm himself down, Yuri closed his eyes and tried to summon his daydream again- his Victor was the Victor and he was watching just for Yuri. Opening his eyes and glancing at the crowd he was startled to see his daydream was at least partially right: Victor Nikiforov was watching!
Stamping down the nerves that threatened to overwhelm him, Yuri skated out to the center and took his starting pose. This is all for you, Victor.
The first half of his program was a surprise success, landing his first quad and his triple combinations with ease. Yuri allowed himself to be carried away by the fantasy. Everything was going so well.
And then Victor left.
Yuri caught a glimpse of his idol leaving the rink as he finished his step sequence and missed his cue for a jump. His vision was blurry without his glasses, but the silver hair and the jacket were unmistakable. He under-rotated, turning the planned triple into a double and flubbing the landing.
Hot tears blurred his vision in the kiss and cry afterwards. His chest felt tight as he waited for his scores, but he already knew they wouldn’t be high enough. He had managed to squeak through the rest of the routine, but it wouldn’t be enough to secure 4th, let alone a spot on the podium. Yuri shrugged off his coach's consolations and headed for the locker rooms for a few minutes alone before facing the press. He watched the other skaters perform on the screen in the locker room, his heart getting heavier by the minute.
He was so foolish to even imagine it was possible. Victor Nikiforov was practically a god among skaters and he was a dime a dozen skater from Japan. A nobody who couldn't even get through most qualifying events in the senior division.
*****
When he was 23, he finally managed to qualify for the Grand Prix Final in Sochi. It had taken everything he had and more to fight his way in, but he was finally there. He had trained hard for the chance to skate the same ice as Victor again, even though he knew his idol couldn't possibly be his soulmate. It would still be worth it, he thought.
His short program went well, and after placing fourth, he was cautiously optimistic about being able to work up onto the podium with his free skate. Even if he messed up his technical score, he could usually make up most of the points through his presentation.
Returning to the hotel after the practice day between the short program and the free skate, he checked his phone and noticed he had missed a call from his sister. Setting his bag down, Yuri dialed her number, hoping it wasn't too late back home.
Her news was like a punch in the gut. He sank onto the bed, his grip tightening on the phone. Yuri removed his glasses and set them on the table, hands shaking. Tears blurred his vision further and he felt like his throats was going to close. It took him several long minutes to speak again, as she apologized over and over and asked if he was okay.
Vicchan was gone.
Yuri hadn't been home in 5 years and now his dog was gone.
Through the buzzing in his ears he heard Mari ask again if he was alright. “I’ll be okay, Mari. I’ll call tomorrow when Okasan is awake.”
“Are you sure,” she asked, concern in her voice. “I’m sorry to give you news like this in the middle of a competition, but I thought you’d rather know now than later.”
“I’ll be fine,” Yuri replied, swallowing around a lump in his throat. “I have to go. I’ll call tomorrow.” He hung up and fell backwards on the bed, numb for a moment. Rolling onto his side he grabbed a pillow and buried his face in it, muffling a ragged sob. Yuri didn't know how long he cried- it felt like days.
He missed a call from Celestino about dinner and ignored a call from Phichit. Only when he heard his coach threaten to have housekeeping unlock the door did Yuri finally respond. He forced himself to get up and let the other man in, sobbing through the story and falling apart all over again.
*****
To say he performed badly the next day would be a gross understatement.
Yuri’s mind was on Vicchan, not his routine, and he barely made it through. He didn’t even bother looking up at the scoreboard in the kiss and cry; Yuri heard the score plainly enough. Any hope of a medal was obliterated- he was in 6th place.
Shrugging off Celestino’s arm, he went to find a spot away from the ice, the crowds, and most of all away from the reporters. Still, his sense of morbid curiosity eventually won out and he began to scroll through the articles already populating the news cycles.
Katsuki Yuri Snatches Defeat From the Jaws of Victory.
Katsuki Yuri Chokes At Finals.
Will Katsuki Yuri Retire After GPF Disaster
With every article, his heart sank further. He looked at the mark on his wrist and felt tears sting his eyes once more. I’m sorry, Victor. I haven’t even met you, but I don’t deserve to.
He couldn’t even take solace in his usual fantasy. Not after a performance like that when he and Nikiforov had shared the same ice. When Victor had taken home yet another gold. How could he ever have thought he could share the ice with a skating god, let alone share a soul?
*****
Leaving the rink, he was startled to hear his name in a voice he’d only heard in interviews. His heart skipped a beat- Victor wanted to talk to him?
Yuri turned, opening his mouth, and swallowed his reply as he saw that no, Victor wasn’t speaking to him. He was talking with Yuri Plisetsky, the junior champion from Russia. His teammate. Yuri’s heart sank again. Idiot, he doesn’t know who you are.
Suddenly, Victor seemed to sense Yuri’s eyes on him as the Russian coach berated the junior skater for something. Yuri froze as the silver-haired skater turned to look directly at him with a warm smile.
“A commemorative photo? Sure,” Victor said with a second brilliant smile, and Yuri’s heart sank again.
Was that really what Victor thought -- that Yuri was just some random fan? Did he not recognize him as a competitor? He had been in fourth place after the short program, for crying out loud! Stung, he rudely turned his back, ignoring Celestino and the reporter calling after him, and left the building. He never saw the confusion on Victor’s face as the other skater watched him leave.
*****
The rest of the trip was a blur. He remembered being threatened yesterday by the Russian Yuri. He knew he had gone to the banquet. And judging by the horrendous hangover, he had overindulged on alcohol to dull his feelings. Yuri could only pray he hadn’t made an ass of himself.
He had decided to go back to Detroit and finish school, no matter what came of the rest of the season. Unable to shake off his nerves, he was a wreck at Nationals, and didn’t manage to qualify for any of the other major events that season.
He let his depression rule him for almost a month before he returned to the ice. He desperately wanted to get back his love of skating, and he remembered how much he used to love practicing Victor’s routines with Yuuko. He could learn the one from last season so Yu-chan could see it in person, he thought. He had decided to return to Hasetsu when he graduated, at least for a while.
Yuri found himself obsessed with learning VIctor’s free skate program. It was challenging, since he wasn’t proficient at all of the jumps, but he found it enjoyable. The mood of the music and the program was melancholy and subdued, which fit his state of mind a little too perfectly these days.
He practiced for months, spending every moment he wasn’t studying at the rink. Finals passed in a blur, then graduation, and then suddenly it was time to fly home.
Yuri felt a good deal of trepidation in the homecoming. He hadn’t been home in five years, and he felt guilty about not being there for Vicchan. But as soon as he stepped through the door with Minako-sensei, a weight came off his chest. He was back among family and friends, and they wouldn’t pressure him about his losses.
Performing the routine for Yu-chan was like a weight off his chest. He hadn’t officially decided to go back to competing, but it seemed like the perfect first step.
Despite himself the daydream came to him as he skated: He was performing at one of the exhibitions after a competition - there was no pressure to win points and it was just a chance to show his love of skating. Watch me, Victor. This is for you. It always has been. Victor was in the crowd watching and he could hear the message in Yuri’s skating. He ran to the side of the rink as the music came to an end, his arms thrown wide as Yuri came out of the final spin-
Yu-chan’s applause and praise cut through the fantasy, jolting him back to full awareness. Blushing, he let the dream fade and skated over, talking with Yuuko and her family for a while longer before he headed home.
Little did he know that Lutz Nishigori had taped the whole thing.
*****
“V-victor? Why are you here?” Yuri’s heart was racing, confronted with the reality of his idol here in his family’s onsen. Victor Nikiforov was here. In his home. Naked , his mind helpfully supplied.
“Yuri, starting today, I’m your coach,” the Russian replied. “I’ll make you win the Grand Prix Final.”
Yuri’s mind couldn’t process Victor’s words, still not-so-helpfully fixed on seeing his idol and crush unabashedly nude. “N-nani? Doshite? Dōiu imidesu ka?” His bewildered brain slipped back into his native tongue trying to make sense of the sudden appearance.
Victor’s smile faltered a moment, then returned. “I don’t understand much Japanese, sorry,” he replied, stepping out of the spring and belatedly wrapping a towel around his waist. “I’m hungry- is there anything to eat? We can talk more about coaching later.”
****
The next few weeks were unreal. Yuri couldn’t figure out what Victor had seen in him that made him come all this way just to be Yuri’s coach. He wasn’t going to question it too much, though.
What was most puzzling was the way Victor kept coming onto him. While he had dreamed of it for years, being suddenly and inexplicably confronted with Victor’s shameless flirting was overwhelming. He was acting like they’d already flirted before he came to Japan but that wasn’t possible - they had never even spoken!
*****
Yuri became used to Victor’s flirting as the months passed - or at least as used to it as it was possible to be. He allowed himself to relax around the other man a little, daring to let himself hope. Maybe his Victor was Victor Nikiforov after all?
That summer was the best of his life, training and falling in love with Victor. Yuri gradually began to flirt back, usually on the ice where he felt most comfortable. He was hardly able to believe what was happening. It felt like the dream might shatter at any point, but he wasn’t willing to give it up.
They never spoke about their soulmarks; Yuri didn’t want to ask in case this was just some fling or frivolous idea of Victor’s. He pointedly didn’t look, even though Victor left his bare for all to see. He knew he was just setting himself up for heartbreak, but he couldn’t keep himself from falling.
*****
Their first kiss was unexpected; Victor was teasing him as they showered off the sand and saltwater from a trip to the beach. Yuri, knocked over by a wave had come up with seaweed in his hair, and it had terrified Makkachin into running halfway down the beach yelping.
Victor was still laughing about it, and had reached over to “help” Yuri wash his hair. Yuri caught his hand, intending to push it away, then caught sight of Victor’s face, beautiful in his mirth and the fading light. He wanted to capture that moment in a bottle and keep it forever. Before he could overthink it, Yuri closed the distance between them and caught Victor’s lips with his own. It only lasted a moment before Yuri pulled away, blushing furiously and biting his lower lip nervously.
Victor touched his own lips a moment, looking surprised, then smiled brilliantly. Yuri let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding, then smiled back. They finished washing off unable to keep small smiles off their faces, and Victor stole a second kiss before they headed back to the onsen, a little longer this time, but just as chaste.
*****
It was after the free skate at the Cup of China that Victor finally showed him his soulmark. Yuri had, after the initial happiness, dissolved into a mini panic attack at the thought that they had just kissed on live tv in front of the whole world.
“Yuri.” His voice was quiet and calm. Yuri was shaking and trying to calm himself down to little effect. “Yuri, give me your hand,” Victor said softly, gently taking Yuri’s hand and turning it palm up. He traced the katakana of Yuri’s soul mark lightly with a single finger, then glanced up to catch Yuri’s eyes. “I know what it says,” he murmured, and Yuri’s breath hitched. Yuri had a denial on the tip of his tongue, and was about to pull away when Victor continued, “don’t you want to see mine?”
Unable to speak, Yuri nodded, taking the wrist that Victor offered him. Even though he hadn’t yet mastered the Cyrillic alphabet, he recognized the letters. They were on his badge from Sochi. It was his own name.
Looking up at Victor’s face, Yuri couldn’t help but smile as his heart soared. Whatever came next, he knew he would never face it alone.