Chapter Text
A thick mat of dust is the first thing that welcomes Yuuri. Next to the dusty shelves, cardboard boxes stacked up to the sky stretch as far as the eye can see. The warehouse around him seems never-ending.
"Otabek?" Yuuri calls, his voice resonating throughout the still space. "Are we in the right place? Otabek?"
"Hold on," Otabek replies, after a few seconds of silence. "This is the correct place. The Lidbreaker is here; I know it."
Yuuri follows Otabek's voice into a narrow aisle with shelves full of discarded pieces of metal. Some have gaping holes in them. Others are charred beyond recognition.
Turning around a corner, Yuuri sees Otabek and Seung-gil shuffling through a heap of papers, all unceremoniously dumped on the cement floor. Seung-gil is grabbing papers furiously, tossing and shoving them with such force that some begin to rip at the corners.
"Damn," he says, slapping the papers back down. "I can't find its location in any of these reports."
"Stay calm," Otabek says, carefully digging through another box. "We are close. Very close."
Seung-gil grits his teeth, and picks up another paper. "I hope you know what you're doing."
Otabek flicks his eyes toward Seung-gil before resuming his search. "This is my warehouse. I am very well aware of what I am doing."
"Is this it?"
Otabek and Seung-gil both whip their heads around. In Yuuri's hand is a long, silvery object with a tapered end.
Lifting it up to the light, Yuuri says, "My vision really has deteriorated. But it looks somewhat pin-like, don't you think?"
"Where did you find that?" Seung-gil demands.
"This?"
Yuuri points to a small box half-hidden behind stacks of old magazines, all sitting on a low shelf.
"It looked odd," Yuuri says, fiddling with the Lidbreaker. "A box hidden behind all these magazines and news articles? The publication dates for those were old too, and the box stuck out at a weird angle. As if someone wanted you to be able to find it, but only if you were looking specifically for it."
Seung-gil's eyes widen, though just a fraction. Walking towards Yuuri, he motions for the Lidbreaker.
"Then this is it," he says.
Seung-gil looks back at Otabek and adds, "Send it to Phichit. Let's solve this damn mystery. Now."
Otabek nods. Turning to Yuuri he says, "Thank you for finding it. There are other items I need, so please be patient. I will return shortly."
Seung-gil doesn't object, but he doesn't look too pleased either. Yuuri hopes that Otabek will make it quick; Seung-gil can be rather… unpleasant when things don't go his way.
With a few quick, delicate steps, Otabek turns a corner and disappears from view.
Yuuri passes the Lidbreaker to Seung-gil, who then lifts it up close towards the light.
"How bad is your vision?" Seung-gil asks.
"Bad," Yuuri replies. "I can see about as much as a normal human when I'm without my glasses."
Seung-gil's brows furrow as he starts to twirl the Lidbreaker around his fingers. "Has your night vision been affected too?"
Yuuri sighs and nods, scratching the back of his head absentmindedly. "Sadly, yes. I used to have great eyesight back when we were rookies, but it's all gone now."
"Don't think that I'll coddle you," Seung-gil says. "You are a part of my team, but don't think that you can use that as an excuse."
Yuuri reflexively adjusts his glasses and stares at Seung-gil.
"What? What do you mean?"
"I don't have time to play around," Seung-gil states. "My grandfather was a lot of things—not all of them pleasant—but he was not a fool. He would have known, or at the very least suspected, that someone would come to assassinate him. He left me the Pandora's Box for a reason, and he knew that I would be able to access the Lidbreaker. He kept tabs on everything; he would have known. That means that he wants me to find something." Seung-gil hardens his gaze. "Assist me."
"In doing what?"
"In fulfilling my grandfather's last wishes, and in eliminating whoever killed him. Do you stand with me or against me?"
Yuuri's response is immediate. "I stand with you."
Seung-gil manages a slight smile, although it's more smirk-like than anything. "Good. Otabek will be back soon; prepare yourself."
After a minute or so of pensive silence, Otabek returns. No-one hears him arrive—Otabek is notorious for being a quiet walker, so it's a bit of a shock to Yuuri when he turns around, only to find Otabek lingering near a shadowy shelf.
"What did you need?" Seung-gil asks.
Stepping into the light, Otabek lifts up his arm. In his palm are two thin bands and a circular object.
Otabek tosses one of the bands at Yuuri, and the other at Seung-gil.
"Put them on," Otabek instructs. "They're communication devices that I helped develop, but there was no use for them until now. The Organization cannot track them, but use them sparingly."
Seung-gil examines the band and then tucks it into his pants pocket. "And the other object?"
"It picks locks."
Seung-gil doesn't look surprised. "When are we going back to New York? Is your plane ready?"
"My private jet is being repaired," Otabek says. "We've been flying often, and in bad weather."
"A commercial flight is uncomfortable but acceptable," Seung-gil says. "It's not a private plane, but it will do."
Otabek shakes his head. "Flights to New York have been canceled due to poor weather. Until the weather lifts, we are staying in St. Petersburg."
"Then how are we going to get the Lidbreaker to Phichit?" Yuuri asks.
"We don't," Otabek says. "Not now."
Seung-gil's intense stare turns positively poisonous.
"We are to… stay here? It might take days—weeks even—for the weather to calm."
"Yes," Otabek says. "But that is the reality. We have no choice, Seung-gil."
Seung-gil stiffens.
"I doubt it will take more than a week for the weather to clear," Otabek says, his tone softening. "This is only a minor setback."
"Fine," Seung-gil spits, annoyance evidently wrapping itself around his body. "We're staying at your apartment then?"
Otabek nods.
"It'll be alright, Seung-gil. It's only a week," Yuuri reassures.
Seung-gil shoots Yuuri a freezing glare. "A week is—"
"Unpleasant but not unbearable," Otabek interrupts, before Seung-gil can explode. "And there is something I must address. It's early summer, and we all know what that entails. Be careful, and don't linger in one place for too long."
Yuuri glances at Otabek, puzzled. "Is there something to be wary of here?"
"Anya," Seung-gil says. "She takes a trip to St. Petersburg every June. The Bureau of Justice comes with her, and that wretched witch doesn't leave until it's nearly July."
Yuuri gasps. "What? You brought me to St. Petersburg at the same time that Director and the Bureau of Justice happen to be there?"
"There isn't anything to worry about. You don't have a bounty on your head. Just… be careful. Pay attention to where you go and to your surroundings," Otabek warns.
It isn't that Yuuri doesn't trust Otabek—he does, really—but he can't help but feel anxious. There's something uniquely unnerving about being in the same city as the woman who literally and figuratively could end your life.
"Did you call for a car?" Seung-gil asks. "When does it arrive?"
Otabek's phone emits a sharp ding!
Grabbing his luggage from behind a bookshelf, Otabek says, "Now."
__________
Otabek's apartment is hidden in the sleepy suburbs of St. Petersburg. The neighboorhood is quiet, small, and immaculate.
Yuuri chuckles to himself. No one would expect to find three of the most powerful Time Arbitrators in the world here.
Not three, two. He might have been a top-tier Arbitrator once, but not anymore. Not after what had happened only weeks ago.
The door unlocks with a soft click.
Yuuri blinks. Surprise erupts in front of his eyes.
At first glance, the apartment is plainly furnished and sparely decorated. It's nothing like Phichit's admittedly elaborate yet cozy private residence. Then Yuuri takes a closer look. Clocks and picture frames are everywhere; they sit on shelves and hang from walls. Yuuri can even see a little heart-shaped frame tucked neatly into a corner.
"How nostalgic," Seung-gil says, picking up the nearest picture.
It's an old one of the four of them, back in their junior days. Yuuri and Phichit are grinning wildly, and even Seung-gil has on a decent smile.
"We are not immortal, but I've tried my best to immortalize our memories," Otabek replies. "It'd be foolish to forget our youth."
"I expected something like this from Phichit, not you," Seung-gil says. "What other surprises do you have up your sleeve?"
Otabek gestures toward the kitchen. "A fully functioning kitchen with no food. Surprise."
Seung-gil gives Otabek a dead, lifeless stare.
"I see," Seung-gil replies. "I assume this means you want me to go to the store."
"Thank you for offering." Otabek's tone is an odd mix between smug and gentle.
Walking towards the door, Seung-gil steps into his shoes and looks knowingly at Otabek. "We're eating Korean tonight."
"There should a be sizable Korean market about six or seven miles away," Otabek says, handing Seung-gil a wad of cash. "You can call for a taxi, or ride the bus."
"Wait," Yuuri calls out, setting down a particularly ornate clock. "Are you going to be okay? It's rather late, and we're not in New York anymore. And with the Director here..."
Seung-gil looks at Yuuri—genuinely looks at Yuuri—and nods slightly. "I have been to St. Petersburg often, and I am not a child. Thank you… for the concern."
Seung-gil usually exits buildings like one would expect a king to exit his throne room. This time it's different.
The door shuts, and Seung-gil is gone.
"What is he thinking?" Yuuri whispers. "He better be careful."
Yuuri steps away from a shelf and sinks into one of Otabek's plump loveseats. Unlike the rest of the apartment, which is decorated in shades of gray, the loveseat is a light blue. The assorted picture frames and clocks are colorful too, but barely.
It strikes him as odd that Otabek would decorate his apartment in gray. From what Yuuri's seen of Otabek's plane, he expected the apartment to be more colorful, if not grander.
"There's something on your mind."
A statement, not a question. Yuuri looks up to see Otabek in the kitchen, boiling water in a kettle.
"It's nothing," Yuuri replies. "A small curiosity."
"Is it Seung-gil?" Otabek asks. "Because I… I feel guilty as well. He has not been himself, and I can't help but think that I am to blame."
Otabek reaches for a knob on the stove and lowers the heat, right as the water reaches boiling point. Now that Yuuri's gotten a chance to breathe, he takes a closer look at Otabek.
The man that standing in front of him is different somehow. Tired. Beaten down. There's a slight puffiness under his eyes, and his tidy hair is limp and dull.
"It's me," Yuuri says, huddling close to the loveseat. "It's been me from the minute I arrived in Universe One. I followed Victor; I begged for a favor; I went to court; I helped kill his grandfather. It was me and—" Yuuri's voice cracks, high and breathy. "It was me. That night you visited me in the hospital—I knew it was me. When I sat on the beach in Hasetsu, I knew it was me. Why won't anyone just say something? I know it's me; I knew it was me when I landed in New York, knew it was me because I was meant to drown in that damn ocean. Don't… don't blame yourself. You've been at his side the most."
Otabek's head whips up, his eyes wild and furious. Yuuri had never thought of Otabek as anything other than gentle and perhaps a tad sarcastic, but in that moment, Otabek looks every bit like the cunning heir to his family's fortune.
"No. Never." Otabek's voice is slow, steady even. It doesn't match his wild, wild eyes. "I am tired of the games," he confesses. "When you landed in New York, we never blamed you. And do not think that Seung-gil blames you. He has more to blame me for. And yet, I persist. He's trapped in this city, achingly close to Anya—close enough to touch. I—" Otabek pauses and takes a long breath. "I thought it would be best if he had some time to himself. So that he doesn't have to look at me for a little while."
"No," Yuuri says. "No. If he doesn't blame me, then he can't blame you."
Otabek smiles, but it's is thin and pale, like a waning moon. "We spend more time blaming ourselves than Seung-gil spends blaming us. But I don't think I will stop blaming myself, not for a long time. Even if I am tired of the guilt."
Yuuri has nothing to say. It's hard to deny the truth.
For a long while, the only sound in the apartment comes from the clocks, all ticking in unison. Yuuri and Otabek stay still and silent as if a single breath could further tilt the Earth's axis. In their minds, it probably could.
__________
It's darker outside than he'd expected.
Two plastic grocery bags hang from his arms, laden with assorted powders and vegetables. The trip to the store didn't take long, especially not with his Arbitrator speed, but he doesn't want to return. Not yet.
St. Petersburg is famous for its street lamps, Seung-gil muses. But there aren't any here.
He doesn't know why he expected there to be any street lamps in this worn down backroad. Maybe he's just gotten too used to expecting things.
The jars in his bag clink with every movement. He'd tried to search for bulgogi ingredients, or maybe some kimchi, but there was none. It was… odd, to say the least. A Korean market without those two basic ingredients wasn't really a Korean market at all. Instead, store employees had suggested he make "Korean carrot," or whatever it was called.
If he had never heard of it before, then it wasn't Korean. And Otabek was going to get authentic Korean food, not a Russian modification.
In the end, he'd settled on an easy stir-fry dish, with carrots and daikon radish as a side. It'd been hell to find it all, but the ingredients were Korean, and that was that mattered.
Seung-gil is about three miles away from Otabek's apartment when the sky begins to rumble. An icy droplet splashes onto his nose as the dim evening erupts. Flashes of lighting scour the sky, shoving the stars aside. The thin sliver of moon is no longer visible, hidden away by a battalion of black clouds.
"Damn," Seung-gil mumbles as he ducks into a nearby alley.
The rain is shockingly cold, little pinpricks of icy liquid slashing and stabbing at the worn concrete. Thankfully, large metal window hoods cover most of the alley and Seung-gil manages to escape the frigid rain.
Reaching into his pocket, Seung-gil takes out his Timepiece and carefully fastens it to this wrist. After two precise taps, the wrist watch's screen lights up, and a popup menu emerges.
"Detect," Seung-gil whispers.
The wristwatch pulses and projects a 3D map of his surroundings, complete with little red dots representing his location and the location of others. Two dots labeled 'Yuuri' and 'Otabek' are about three miles away, in an apartment building, just as Seung-gil had suspected. However, his Timepiece also registers two irregular purple dots near his location.
The sky growls again, and gravity's greedy claws fling down buckets of rain.
At this rate, Seung-gil observes, the rain isn't going to stop.
The best option is to traverse along the alleyways and find a shortcut back. But what about those irregular dots? The alleyway that they're in is one that he will eventually have to enter…
Seung-gil narrows his eyes.
"This is ridiculous," he says. "I am afraid of nothing. Not rain, and surely not some little dots."
The plastic bags in his hand swish as Seung-gil runs from alley to alley. His Timepiece had highlighted a quick path back to Otabek's apartment, but it required an irritating amount of crisscrossing between alleyways.
By the time Seung-gil reaches the central alley, his coat is damp and his grocery bags are stretched thin, the cans straining against the plastic.
The central alley is darker than the last two. It's the widest one so far and is much more exposed to the rain. The gutters aren't as stable either, and the faded brick walls quiver every time thunder booms.
"Let's get the hell out of here," Seung-gil mumbles to himself.
He's about to dash through the alleyway when lightning flashes and illuminates the shadowy corners.
Two figures, one taller than the other, are positioned close together in a narrow, dark passageway into the alley.
Seung-gil ducks quickly behind a nearby stack of discarded boxes—close enough to see and hear, but far enough to be undetectable. Lighting flares again, just as Seung-gil sneaks a look over the tower of boxes.
His eyes widen.
Black hair. Tan skin.
Lighting strikes again.
Blue eyes?
"JJ...?"
It's him. Seung-gil would recognize the hair, the eyes, his face—anywhere.
If the shorter man is JJ, then who is the other? Seung-gil wonders. Are these two the two purple dots? The unknown non-human presences?
Seung-gil sneaks another peek. The alley is dark—too dark. As an Arbitrator, Seung-gil is blessed with superhuman vision. And as a member of the acclaimed Lee bloodline, Seung-gil is blessed with extraordinarily good vision—vision better than that of most top class Arbitrators.
Even with Seung-gil's eyesight, the alley is still too dark. It's an unnatural, rippling darkness, like a living cloud made of smoke and fog.
"Fancy meeting you here Jean-Jaques," a smooth voice purrs, audible even in the raging storm. "Shouldn't you be busy protecting Her Majesty?"
"We've been over this," JJ says, his tone angry, yet quiet. "She's not a queen. We are not a monarchy. You of all people should know."
"Oh?"
Seung-gil nudges a box aside, focusing intently on the two men. The taller of the two is wearing a heavy cloak that covers his face and any features that might have conveyed his identity. His voice is deep and smooth, with a slight accent Seung-gil can't place.
JJ, on the other hand, is drenched from head to toe. He's dressed in the Bureau of Justice's uniform for special occasions. It's an ostentatious thing, full of gold accents and shiny buttons, and leaves nothing to the imagination.
"Why did you call me over here—"
"Ah, ah, ah!" The cloaked man interrupts. "No names! The walls have eyes and ears. We wouldn't want Majesty Dearest to find out about this, would we?"
JJ gives the man a rough shove and rips a gleaming medal off his jacket's lapels.
"One call," he says, brandishing the medal like a weapon. "One call, and I can send every officer within a five-mile radius to this alley. Don't test me."
The cloaked man cocks his head to the side. Lighting flashes, and for a split second, Seung-gil can see the man's eye color.
They're a startling hazel-green.
The man chuckles. "But you wouldn't. Isn't it all empty threats? You wouldn't risk your position, even if it meant exposing me. Do you still have some hope that you can redeem yourself by climbing the ranks? That somehow the heir to a political empire will see that and take you back? Or are you just after the power now? It's nice sitting in the lap of luxury, isn't it?"
JJ lunges at the man and grasps at his cloak. The medal falls to the ground with a thump, its shiny surface now dirtied by a murky puddle.
"Why are you like this? We're allies! You and I are the same; we both have duties to the Organization, and we have both served loyally for years! You're letting foolish hopes in some half-hearted wish blind you from what's right, and I'm not going to let you destroy yourself over it!"
The sky yawns and grumbles as thunder and rain ravage St. Petersburg. The only dry things around are the bags of groceries and Seung-gil's Timepiece, which he wraps protectively in his coat. JJ and the cloaked man are arguing viciously, their conversation heated enough for Seung-gil to escape without notice.
He doesn't.
There's a parasitic curiosity squirming in his brain; there are questions upon questions with no answers. Seung-gil can't say that JJ is his favorite person—far from it—but something inside his heart compels him to stay. If not out of concern for JJ's safety, then out of sheer curiosity.
Seung-gil shakes his head.
This must be what Yuuri feels like, Seung-gil thinks. How unpleasant.
If he is forced to wait in St. Petersburg, he might as well make use of his time. Seung-gil's not going to let a golden opportunity go to waste. His grandfather would have never forgiven him if he did.
The rain is a veil of ice at this point, loudly splashing on the concrete. It distorts sound and visibility, but Seung-gil's senses are just about good enough to get a decent amount of information. He inches the boxes closer to the two men until a sentence stops him in his tracks.
"Has she told you about the Immortals?"
JJ's head snaps up at the question, and so does Seung-gil's.
Immortals?
"Immortals?" JJ scoffs. "What kinds of things are they making up now?"
The cloaked man laughs, but it's cold and bitter—a breathy cackle. "So she really hasn't told you? Do you not know why you are in this city?"
JJ's lips are set in a grim line. "I am here as part of her guard. Madame Director's birthday is soon, and she wanted to spend some time visiting her aunt, the former Director. That is all."
"So you really don't know! What a startling turn of events. Did she feed her entire guard the same story? Or is it just you?"
What story? This cloaked man… who is he? To be able to mock the Director without fear of retribution, to be able to ambush JJ in this alley… this is not an ordinary man—not an ordinary Arbitrator. Could he be an elite? A member of the Squadron?
"Stop the games. What is an Immortal? Tell me truthfully; no lies. No riddles,” JJ demands.
The cloaked man takes a step back, his posture rigid, feet spread shoulder-length apart.
"An Immortal," he begins, "is not human."
"What then?" JJ says, his voice brimming with aggravation. "A special faction of Arbitrator Elites that Madame Director has been secretly organizing?"
The cloaked man bursts into laughter, and when he speaks, it's with a sardonic humor. "One can wish. No, Immortals are not Arbitrators, nor are they human. They are their own race, with their own laws and their own goals. They are everywhere, but it'd be easier to find them if you looked nowhere. Immortals are beautiful, just like their glittering court—full of jewels and magic and things that last forever."
Thunder booms.
"Your riddles only get better by the day," JJ retorts. "Do you really think that I believe any of this? You do know that once you leave, I'll tell Madame Director everything. I don't agree with everything she does, but it's for our safety and the stability of the Organization. She's why the Organization is stable again; she's the reason why the Upper Circle and the Higher Ups haven't totally seized control. I'm not a brainless follower, G—"
JJ doesn't finish his sentence. The cloaked man has one hand clasped over JJ's mouth, the other pinning him to the alley wall. Shabby brick digs into his sopping jacket.
"No names," the man says, his voice deep and grim.
"Damn!" JJ shouts as he rips the cloaked man's arm off of his jacket. "Why the hell are you telling me this? What do you want? I've never gotten in your way, so why now?"
"Not everything is about attaining power, though I suppose you wouldn't know. There will be change soon, dearest Jean-Jacques. Where will you stand? Will you stay loyal to her? Or will you open your eyes and learn the truth?"
"What truth?"
The cloaked man reaches in his cloak and produces a thin, silvery object. A pen.
Handing it to JJ, he says, "Take it."
"This is an emergency scythe."
"It is," the cloaked man replies. "I'm sure you recognize this one."
"This is an emergency scythe," JJ repeats. "But this particular scythe…"
"You recognize it, don't you? Magnificent, isn't it?"
JJ's hands tremble. "This is the scythe Yuuri Katsuki used to perform a Lapse across the Atlantic. Why do you have it? How?"
"As I have said before. Not everything is about attaining power; not everything is as peaceful and clear as she makes it appear. It's more on the… foggy side of things. So which side will you choose? All you need to do is destroy that pen. One crack and I'll know that you want to meet. There are things that you don't know yet—things about the Organization, things about Yuuri Katsuki. Did you feel even a shred of guilt when you fetched him like a loyal dog?"
"It was necessary," JJ admits, his hands squeezed into fists. "I had to; it was necessary."
"Don't lie through your teeth," the cloaked man says, although his voice is much softer and much kinder. "Consider my offer."
"I..."
JJ trails off, and the storm renews its assault on the skies. Seung-gil's groceries, though once neat and dry, have suffered some rain damage. Any longer, and they'll be inedible mush. Thunder booms again, and Seung-gil knows that he's overstayed his welcome. Under the cover of the clouds and the noise of the storm, Seung-gil dashes out the alley, groceries hanging off his arm once more.
He's quiet, blending in with the inky darkness of the alley. There are no shouts of surprise, no signs that he had ever been in that alley in the first place.
The three miles back to Otabek's apartment vanish in the blink of an eye.
___________
Seung-gil bursts through the door, soggy groceries in hand. He's soaked, disheveled, with what looks like dirt and mud stains on his coat.
He left to get groceries, Yuuri thinks. What is going on?
Yuuri is about to voice his thoughts when Seung-gil suddenly rushes at him and grabs him by the shoulders.
"JJ is here."
"Wait, what? I mean the odds of him being here aren't impossible—"
"No!" Seung-gil interrupts, his breaths deep and ragged. "It was in an alley. There was a cloaked figure huddled there with him, and they were discussing Immortals. The cloaked figure seemed to be a higher up—an elite, or perhaps even a member of the Squadron."
"Immortals?" Otabek inquires.
"Immortals—not human, not Arbitrator. Something else. They have a court, jewels and—" Seung-gil pauses and stares at Yuuri, "—they have magic."
"Magic," Yuuri whispers. The room seems to hold its breath. "Not human, not Arbitrator. An in-between. Victor Nikiforov."
"The man with silver hair," Otabek says.
The puzzle pieces begin to form and take shape in Yuuri's mind. Victor Nikiforov. Magic. The fog. His speed. The cryptic words and knowledge on the inner workings of the Organization.
"Victor Nikiforov told me two things that day," Yuuri says. "The first was that there were more like him, more in-betweens. More Immortals. The second was that he was the opposite of me."
Yuuri looks around the room and meets Seung-gil's eyes. "That name... Immortals..."
"The blond boy," Otabek says suddenly. "The one that that frequented St. Petersburg years ago. The one that never seemed to age. Perhaps the name…"
"I’ll trust you to explain what you mean by ‘the blond boy’ later, Otabek. This is a much more pressing matter. If what Nikiforov said is true, then they might as well be truly immortal," Seung-gil suggests. "Magic and immortality versus technology and long life. Immortals versus Arbitrators. Who would win?"
"That is of no importance," Otabek says. "You arrive half-drowned, spurting news of a cloaked man and JJ, of all Arbitrators. Where were you, Seung-gil?"
Seung-gil peels of his wet coat and uncovers his wristwatch. There's not a drop of water on it.
"My Timepiece detected two irregular signatures in an alley. I stumbled upon their conversation, and I wasn't about to let information slip through my fingers."
"Did you hear anything else?" Yuuri asks. "About who the cloaked man is, or anything about the Clockmaster?"
"My databases?" Otabek adds.
"No," Seung-gil replies. "The cloaked man insisted on 'no names', although he referred to JJ as Jean-Jacques quite often. There was only a mention of jewels and a court. Nothing else."
Yuuri bites his lips and fiddles with his hands.
"Then what do we do? We're stuck here for a week, we can't get the Lidbreaker to Phichit, and now we definitely know that the Director is here. This new information… why haven't we heard of it until now? What is the Organization hiding?"
Seung-gil's smile is more like a snarl. "What isn't Anya hiding? She's a genius built on lies and lipstick."
Otabek frowns. "Anya is too close. Be wary, Seung-gil."
"I am politically and socially untouchable," Seung-gil replies. "Especially so soon after Grandfather's death."
"Seung-gil…" Yuuri starts.
"I want Anya to get her claws off the investigation, and I will do anything, anything to see it happen. What lies she's been spreading, what secrets she's been keeping—I'll know them all. We’ll return to New York soon, but if we are to be stuck here for the time being, then I will follow any lead I find."
Seung-gil's eyes gleam, and his face transforms from stoic to smug. "I should thank that cloaked man. It's a shame that the rain was so thick.The only thing that I was able to see were his eyes and nothing more."
"Go bathe," Otabek says, interrupting Seung-gil's rant. "There is mud on my floor. We can discuss this at a later date. Bathe and then we will eat."
Seung-gil narrows his eyes but doesn't argue.
Seung-gil hasn't argued against Otabek for a while, Yuuri thinks.
"Fine."
__________
They last three days before someone snaps. Naturally, that someone is Seung-gil.
Otabek relents. Even he's tired of being cooped up in the apartment. Besides, there's a festival in town—the perfect excuse to venture outside.
The sky is calm today, a brilliant blue peppered with downy clouds. It's peaceful, windy, and perfect, and Yuuri can't find it in himself to ruin the day's fun. He's tired of the apartment too.
Seung-gil had pushed for returning early since the weather had lifted and all, but the soonest they could leave was tomorrow. Airports and plane tickets were always a hassle, and even with the types of connections available between them, there were much more prominent, human figures that required an earlier flight.
"What's the festival for?" Yuuri asks, splashing his face with water.
"Does it matter?" Seung-gil replies. "At least we can finally go outside."
Otabek sighs and slips on his shoes. "The White Night Festival—a celebration of Russian culture and music. There is also a carnival at night and a celebration. Although it isn't quite evening yet, I believe that we deserve some time to go sightseeing. Remember to proceed with caution and don't cause trouble."
"That's right," Yuuri adds. "Anya's guard are closer than we had previously believed."
"I will carry one of the communication bands, and you will carry the other," Otabek says, handing the band to Yuuri. "Do not, under any circumstances, lose it."
It's more stylish than it appears. The black band on his wrist is sleek and gleaming.
"I won't," Yuuri promises.
"Good," Seung-gil says.
The door is halfway open by this point, and a small breeze blows into the apartment.
Yuuri tugs on his shoes and pushes the door open further. "Let's go."
__________
Nothing good comes from weather this perfect, Yuuri thinks.
It feels wrong.
The small park that they're in is crowded, no doubt from people waiting for the evening carnival to begin. As the sun slowly melts away, streaks of orange and gold stain the evening sky. The slight breeze that blows through is refreshingly gentle; this evening should be immaculate.
The evening is shaping up to be an immaculate disaster.
Otabek seems… off, somehow.
Yuuri's caught him looking into space at least twice. Both times, he'd felt an odd uneasiness pervading his senses. It seemed to be nothing more than just paranoia, and Otabek had assured him that’s all it was.
Seung-gil had seemed troubled as well, but that dissipated fairly quickly.
They stroll along for some time, with Yuuri in the lead and Otabek and Seung-gil to the side. Summer is evident in the greenness of the grass and the blooming flowers; ancient trees towered over them and block the melting sun.
Seung-gil rushes them out of the park, under the pretense that they would get distracted and miss the carnival, but Yuuri isn't fooled. The sooner they arrive, the less they’ll have to wait.
Seung-gil is a child in the sense that he hates waiting and being second best. Lines aren't really his thing (they aren't Otabek's either, but at least he can be an adult about it), so it was always best to arrive early. An irritable Seung-gil would make life difficult for everyone.
Yuuri distinctly recalls a popular rumor back in their Arbitrator Academy days. Apparently there'd been an incident of a fellow classmate bad-mouthing Seung-gil behind his back. That particular classmate was gone the next day. Yuuri had never asked Seung-gil about the incident—at least, not straight up to his face—and Seung-gil had never brought it up. Still, it was in everyone's best interest to not piss him off. He'd mellowed out a lot from his junior days, but Seung-gil still held a moderate amount of life-ruining power.
The carnival is near the park (thankfully) so the walk doesn't last long. It's more crowded than Yuuri had expected, with crowds weaving and bobbing their way past one other like schools of colorful fish.
Beside him, Otabek stops and stares. The festival lights are stunning. Fluorescent and glowing, they shower the scene with swaths of colors in all hues. They dangle from street lamps and hang off buildings like neon ivy, creating patterns of all shapes and sizes. In the distance, Yuuri can see large carriages filled with people of varying ages.
"Beautiful," he whispers.
Turning his head, Yuuri can see Otabek and Seung-gil, both equally mesmerized by the lights and the carriages.
"It has been years," Otabek says. "It's still as beautiful as I last remembered."
"Good," Seung-gil replies. "I suppose this delay isn't a complete waste of time."
"You know, it's strange that it's still so bright out," Yuuri says. "The sun seems to have stopped setting. It's evening now, but still as bright out as a late afternoon."
"The name of the festival is 'White Nights.' It's a phenomenon that occurs here—even well after midnight, the sky doesn't turn any darker," Otabek says. "It lasts for about a month, from late May to early July. The brightest nights are later in June, so unfortunately, we will see a dimmer evening."
Yuuri smiles. "It's still beautiful, isn't it? Should we go explore the sights now?"
His earlier feelings of discomfort have been shoved down. There's no use in worrying about vague feelings here and there, especially not with such a bright carnival surrounding him. And judging from Otabek's soft smile, he feels the same.
"The history re-enactments look interesting," Seung-gil says, pointing at actors in period clothing. "I, for one, am going to go see."
Seung-gil marches off in that direction with solid steps and his head held high. He's dressed from head to toe in luxury branding, his Timepiece glittering on his wrist. Yet, in the middle of this loud, chaotic festival, Seung-gil looks like he belongs in the picture.
"Are we going to join him?" Yuuri asks, turning around to face Otabek. Oddly enough, he isn't there.
"What?" a voice in front of him asks. Otabek is already ahead of Yuuri, making his way towards Seung-gil. "I believe that you are the one who needs to join us."
Yuuri sighs and jogs slowly towards Otabek. Seung-gil is just ahead, transfixed by the re-enactment play.
"The costumes are so detailed," Yuuri murmurs, starstruck. "They're exquisite, Otabek."
There's no response.
"Otabek?"
Otabek isn't even looking Yuuri's way. Instead, he's facing the opposite direction, his eyes wide with what seems like shock and fear all at once.
"Is there something wrong?" Yuuri asks, glancing at the spot Otabek had been staring at. "Did you see something?"
"No," Otabek says, shaking his head. "I don't believe so. It was just a flash of blond hair and a pair of green eyes. I am overreacting. It's illogical to believe that only Immortals have blond hair and green eyes."
"Is this about that boy? The one that frequented St. Petersburg?"
"Yes, but it could have been anyone."
Yuuri and Otabek stand silently, mulling over the possibilities. They only stop when Seung-gil marches up in front of them with his brows arched and his lips pursed.
"Yuuri," Seung-gil says, his eyes darting behind him every so often. "Did the silver haired man, the Immortal, have blue eyes as well?"
Yuuri stares at Seung-gil, mouth half-open. "How did you know that? Did you see someone?"
Seung-gil turns and scans the crowd before facing Yuuri again. "I saw a tall man with silver hair and blue eyes. He was only a few feet from me, next to a boy with blond hair and green eyes. I'm sure that it's him."
"Seung-gil," Otabek says. "You have a tendency to not think your plans through. Have you considered the fact that it might be a trick of the light? Hair dye? Contacts?"
Seung-gil reaches for his left arm and removes his Timepiece in two clean motions. "My Timepiece deals with electrical signatures and is impossible to fool. Those two were not human, and certainly not Arbitrators. No-one relevant enough to be in St. Petersburg at this time has dyed their hair silver, and I doubt that Anya would ever let her precious guard dye their hair.”
"Where are they now?" Yuuri demands.
He can feel his blood boiling again, itching to search for Victor.
"He's over there," Seung-gil says, motioning to a few stands placed near a faint street lamp. "He and the blond boy—they're leaning against the street lamp."
Seung-gil barely has time to finish his sentence before Otabek takes off sprinting.
"I apologize for interrupting you," Otabek calls back. "But this is urgent."
Seung-gil furrows his eyebrows, but dashes toward Otabek at a breakneck speed, flying and weaving past carriages and people alike.
Yuuri soon joins in on the chase, his coat billowing behind him as he rushes to catch up to Seung-gil. By the time he's caught up, Otabek is about ready to corner both Victor and the blond boy.
"Otabek, it's my job to be the irrational one," Yuuri says, tugging Otabek back. "Let's stay calm and not rush right in. Please? I… I can't rush in again. Not after last time. Please."
"Yuuri. I am aware. However…"
Otabek's eyes are full of agitation, but also brimming with curiosity. "I have waited years for a moment like this. With the new, sudden turn of events, I believe that these Immortals hold answers to some of our questions."
"You had questions once," Seung-gil adds. "I assume that you still have them now. Though even if you don't, I have questions."
Otabek nods, and disappears, his body melting into the air.
"He's faster," Seung-gil states, moderately impressed. It doesn't take long before he's gone as well, forcing Yuuri to catch up yet again.
Yuuri grits his teeth and wipes away a stray tear. His eyes sting, both from the wind and from the fear.
He doesn't know if he can do this again, doesn't know how or what or why. He wants to support Seung-gil and Otabek, and he still wants answers, but it's only been a few weeks since the trail.
Yuuri shakes his head and pushes on, as fast as his limits allow. He's not going back to that courtroom. He's not going back to those mahogany doors. Otabek and Seung-gil aren't themselves now, and it's up to him to support them. But whatever happens, he's not going back.
Just ahead of him, Seung-gil abruptly changes direction, dashing and weaving against the crowd.
Yuuri follows.
Victor and the blond boy haven't moved. The quiet space they're in feels somewhat removed from the festival, and none of the neon lights reach there either.
Otabek is only a few meters away, waiting for Yuuri and Seung-gil to catch up.
Judging from Victor's relaxed back, he hasn't detected them.
Or he's pretending not to.
"Based on your earlier accounts," Otabek says, his voice a hushed whisper, "Victor Nikiforov seems to permit polite conversation. We will approach him with discretion."
Yuuri nods.
"Very well," Seung-gil says. "I'll make sure my best 'member of the nobility' face is on."
"We're a bureaucracy," Yuuri reminds. "But you're right. Chances are, he's a part of the Immortal court. The blond boy as well. I'll announce myself first since I've met him before."
Yuuri strides ahead with an air of confidence, pushing down the anxiety that threatens to bubble over.
I have to breathe, Yuuri thinks, clenching his fists. I have to breathe. Don't shake; don't shake; don't shake.
"Hello, Victor Nikiforov. What a pleasant surprise."
Victor whips around so quickly that Yuuri had thought that he stumbled. The blond boy by his side rises as well and gives Yuuri a chafing stare.
"Who are you?" the boy asks, his haughty stare more piercing than any of the festival's lights. "Victor, explain yourself. Who is this?"
Victor really does look surprised. I thought he would have noticed me.
"This is Yuuri Katsuki, Highness. An Arbitrator Elite."
Highness? Is this boy a prince?
"I have no use for Arbitrators," the boy (the prince?) says. "You may leave. Dismissed."
"Forgive me, Highness, but I have use for you. If you would be so kind as to answer our questions?"
Yuuri resists the urge to groan. This is not the time for Seung-gil's superiority complex to suddenly resurface.
"Seung-gil," Otabek warns. "You were not supposed to reveal yourself."
"Oh? Who are you two?" the prince asks. "More Arbitrator Elites?"
Seung-gil is wholly unimpressed. Stepping out from the shadows, he strides toward the two Immortals with a haughty sneer plastered across his face.
The blond prince opens his mouth to speak—no doubt to make another condescending comment—when Otabek walks into the light as well.
"You—!"
Otabek stares. "Do you know who I am?"
"I've seen you over the years," the prince says, his tone somewhat… softer. More diplomatic. Less arrogant. "I had previously believed that you were a human businessman. Who would have known that you were an Arbitrator?"
Otabek pauses, then steps toward the prince. Almost immediately, Victor pushes in front of the prince, his arm halting Otabek's movements.
"Your Highness, that is enough. Go back. I will handle this," Victor says.
The prince clicks his tongue and turns away. "Don't command me to do anything again, Victor. Hurry and return after you're done."
The prince leaps into the air and is gone.
Yuuri doesn't even see a blur. Is the prince just that fast? Or was that a display of their rumored magic?
"What business do you have with him?" Victor asks, shifting his gaze to Otabek. "He's only fifteen years old, after all. Certainly not old enough to be part of some long-winded Arbitrator conflict."
Otabek relaxes and steps back. "It is more of a long-winded curiosity, though I did not know that he was a prince."
"We know that you are an Immortal," Seung-gil interrupts. "And judging from your relationship with that prince, you must be a noble as well. Answer me: what is your relationship with the Organization?"
Seung-gil's impatience will be our demise, Yuuri thinks. "Seung-gil—"
"I have none," Victor responds, his eyes the color of chipped ice. "But I do not speak for the rest of my court. Your revelations and your problems do not concern me."
Victor turns and faces Yuuri, his mouth set in a grim line. "I believe that I've already expressed my desire not to meet again, Yuuri Katsuki."
"You are much less pleasant than I had imagined," Seung-gil interrupts. "I suppose that I will have to be the cordial one here. A pleasure to meet you, Victor Nikiforov; I am Seung-gil Lee, and this," Seung-gil pauses and gestures toward Otabek, "is Otabek Altin. It would be an even greater pleasure if you were to answer my question in all seriousness."
Seung-gil's tone is hard, devoid of even pride and contempt.
He's serious. The mask is off.
"I do know some things," Victor says, a smirk dancing on his lips. "But do not have the time, nor the urge to reveal them. As I have told Yuuri Katsuki before, let's not meet again. I will extend that to you as well, Otabek Altin, Seung-gil Lee."
Victor lifts up his hand to brush back a strand of hair. "Do not approach me, or his Highness again."
Victor glares at Yuuri one last time before leaping away and vanishing under a thick coat of fog.
It's just as disorienting as the last time, Yuuri thinks.
"Fog? This is their magic, then? How inconvenient," Seung-gil says. "Where are you, Otabek? Yuuri?"
Yuuri stumbles in the hazy mist and nearly trips over Otabek.
"Steady," Otabek says, grabbing onto Yuuri's arm. "Are you alright?"
Yuuri sighs, shaking off Otabek's grip. "I'm fine."
A hand grasps onto Yuuri's shoulder. He screams, hand automatically reaching for a scythe he doesn't possess.
"The hell?" a voice whispers into his ear. "It's Seung-gil; stop screaming."
"Don't sneak up on me next time," Yuuri requests.
The fog is still thick, with no sign of Victor. Seung-gil scoffs and narrows his eyes. Anger rolls off of him in hot waves.
"This is it," Yuuri says, eyes downcast. "He's untraceable, his fog impenetrable by even our eyes. Let's go back to New York, Seung-gil. Whatever answers he holds isn't worth the price."
"What if they are worth the price? What then?"
"Seung-gil, please—"
"No."
"No," Otabek says again. "You cannot use your Timepiece to locate Victor, Seung-gil."
"And why not?" Seung-gil asks. "Why not?"
"Because we are not fast enough! How do you propose that we catch him? With Yuuri's Lapse?"
Yuuri is shocked speechless. Otabek doesn't raise his voice and hasn't so for a long time. To see him this angry—
"Perhaps," Seung-gil says. "This is the favor that you owe me, Yuuri."
"Seung-gil, this is completely unreasonable. Ask for another favor. Yuuri's life is not a game."
Seung-gil's face is hard and stony, unrelenting.
"It's not a game, Otabek. Time is slipping through our fingers as we stand idly by," Seung-gil declares and turns to Yuuri. "My Timepiece should be able to locate Nikiforov. When you find him, convince him; tell him that we ought to be allies. Keep Otabek's communication device with you. We will return to New York and open the box while you investigate the Immortals from the inside. It is probable that Anya has her foul claws all over this situation."
"Yet again, Seung-gil, you are being irresponsibly unreasonable. Your plans are always reckless and flawed; what if Nikiforov refuses? We no longer have the means to protect Yuuri from Anya."
Otabek pauses and breathes in deeply.
"Your plans are always like this. Even back in the Academy—"
"Are you going to hand over the communication band or not?" Seung-gil demands. "The risks are necessary. I know Anya has something up her sleeve—something with the potential to bring the Organization to its knees. That witch never does anything without a reason. JJ, a mysterious cloaked man, Immortals, Grandfather, the Scythes Squadron—these players have appeared on the board much too quickly in rapid succession. It is our move to make, and we would be fools to skip our turn so early on in the match."
"There is no need to chase after Nikiforov," Otabek argues. "He and that prince are too powerful—"
"And that is precisely the reason why we must!" Seung-gil insists. "It is a necessary risk—"
"You enjoy being a chess-master too much, Seung-gil. I am your ally, not your subordinate! Yuuri is not a pawn at your disposal, and neither am I—"
Seung-gil clenches his fists and looks down at Otabek. Their height difference isn't much—Seung-gil is only about an inch taller—but any advantage is welcome in arguments like these.
"You are not a pawn, but I expected a genius to be much more tactically sound than this," Seung-gil says. "This is ridiculous—"
"Forgive me, but you are the ridiculous one—"
Otabek and Seung-gil are at each other's throats… literally. Seung-gil could easily reach up and make a grab for Otabek's throat, and judging from the way his fingers are twitching, Seung-gil seems to be entertaining the idea. Seung-gil may be the more violent of the two, but Otabek looks only inches from crossing the line himself. His jaw is clenched and looks about ready to fling Yuuri over his shoulder and make a run for it.
Yuuri is just as annoyed; it is after all, somewhat rude to ignore the person that you are passionately arguing about.
"Stop!" he yells, tugging both Otabek and Seung-gil apart. "I'll do it! Just stop fighting. I'll do it. Besides… we've wasted enough time arguing."
"Yuuri, despite what Seung-gil says… you are not obligated to do this."
Yuuri smile is weak and pale, much like the color of his face. Seung-gil slips his Timepiece off his wrist and hands it to Yuuri.
"You're shaking," Seung-gil says.
It's not a question, not even a worried statement. Just an observation. The sky is blue. Phichit's favorite sitcom is The Big Bang Theory. I'm shaking because this decision could horribly backfire and I could be sentenced to a lifetime of misery, Yuuri thinks.
He reaches for the Timepiece and carefully secures it around his right wrist. Otabek's communication device rests comfortably on the other.
"Once I have transferred ownership of the Timepiece over to you, it should respond to your voice commands," Seung-gil says. "Try not to break it. I assume that you know how to use it?"
"We will contact you later, Yuuri," Otabek adds. "Be careful."
Seung-gil nods. "I, Seung-gil Lee, transfer my Timepiece to Yuuri Katsuki. May it serve him well."
"I, Yuuri Katsuki, graciously accept this transfer."
"One last time," Otabek says. "Yuuri—"
"I've decided, Otabek. I know it's impossible to be pardoned twice, but I have faith that something will work out." Yuuri smiles again and it's stronger this time, more genuine. Hopeful. "I think I've found a way to really be of use," he continues. "I'll do it, and find a way to fix it—fix the mess I made. It was me, you know. I was the one who caused everything to fall apart."
Yuuri reaches into his pocket and pulls out his own Timepiece. The pocket watch's golden face reflects the soft light from nearby street lamps. The shiny glass is cool to the touch.
"I'm sorry," Seung-gil says.
Yuuri laughs, but it isn't cold or sarcastic. It's simply… free. "Maybe we've all spent more time apologizing for our mistakes than actually fixing them. I'll support you, to the best of my ability. It's a little presumptuous of me to force an apology from you, of all people."
Yuuri turns around and whispers something into Seung-gil's Timepiece. By now, most of the fog has already dissipated, leaving behind cool layers of misty air.
"He seems to have stopped," Yuuri says. "Victor is about 87 miles—140 kilometers—away from here. I should be able to… to use a Lapse to get there."
"Very well," Seung-gil says.
Otabek adds, “Thank you. From the both of us.”
__________
When Yuuri forces through a time gate for the second time since his return, a crawling sense of dread wraps itself around his chest.
Seung-gil's Timepiece (Yuuri refuses to call it his; Seung-gil is simply loaning it out to him) beeps once, indicating Victor's proximity to Yuuri.
It was easier to open up a Lapse this time around. Yuuri doesn't know if it's because London is better protected than St. Petersburg, or if it's because he's more accustomed to Universe One than before. Either way, it's still an advantage. If Victor decides to run again, then Yuuri will need everything he’s got.
The two Timepieces at his disposal will only get him so far. Seung-gil's is extraordinarily helpful but limited, and it's already been pushed to the brink of its abilities. Furthermore, Yuuri's experience with Timepieces is mostly limited to his own; even then, he's a Field Arbitrator. Seung-gil has never set foot outside of Universe One. Their fields of specialty are vastly different. Seung-gil is the one best suited to handle his Timepiece, and no-one else.
"What should I do?" Yuuri mumbles, crouching behind the corner of a store. "How did Victor even find this small town anyways?"
Glancing around, all Yuuri can see are buildings of a uniform height, size, and color. The paint on most buildings is dull and flaky, and the streets are eerily silent.
"The air is still," Yuuri murmurs, clenching his shaking fists. "I just need to calm down. There's no way I can engage with Victor in this state."
Seung-gil's Timepiece, along with discovering electrical signatures and hidden presences, can be used to cover up one's own presence as well. It buys Yuuri valuable time, but for how long, he doesn't know.
Peeking out from behind the corner, Yuuri spots Victor resting on a stone bench beneath a tree. He's slumped against the back of the bench and breathing heavily, one arm over his eyes.
He must be exhausted, Yuuri thinks. He hasn't sensed my presence at all.
Yuuri steps out from the building he'd previously been crouching behind. With a few careful, quiet strides, he's soon standing about four meters away from Victor.
Being an Arbitrator really is convenient.
"I know that you're there, Yuuri Katsuki. I can hear you."
Victor removes his arm, sits upright on the bench, and attempts to drag a smirk over his lips. It comes off as more of a weak twitch.
"Do you really insist on playing this game?" Victor asks. "You've cornered me when I'm at my weakest. Have you no shame?"
Yuuri shakes his head. "I didn't come here to fight you. I'm weaponless."
Victor laughs.
"People aren't very inclined to speak to you if your first sentence to them is a lie. Did you believe that concealing the scythe would comfort me?"
"I have my Timepiece back—that is, the technology that top Arbitrators can use to open a Lapse," Yuuri says. "I don't need an emergency scythe; they drain your strength faster. But I'm telling the truth. I don't want to fight."
"I have no interest in Arbitrators," Victor says. "Though the fact that one of your infuriating devices managed to locate me… how maddening. But if I've said it once, I've said it a thousand times: I do not wish to associate myself with Arbitrators. Leave."
Yuuri doesn't speak, and instead, reaches for his pocket watch. He tosses it at Victor, who plucks it from the air with a single hand.
"What is this? Your pocket watch?" Victor asks. "I do not see why—"
"Just listen to me for a second," Yuuri pleads. "The pocket watch is to prove that I'm sincere."
Yuuri breathes in deeply once. Twice. Three times. There's steel in his eyes and a pounding in his heart, but there's a good feeling too. Arbitrators might not be the biggest fans of fate, but right now, there's something inside of Yuuri that sings. He can do this, for himself and for the team. He’s not going back, so he can’t fail.
"There's unrest in the Organization right now, and Immortals are right in the middle of it," Yuuri says. "Someone is attempting to seize power; the Director, Anya, is uncontrollable, and there are too many branches and factions that are divided and confused. There are rumors that could threaten Immortals' existence, and the unsteady balance of power within the Organization could collapse, causing shockwaves across Universe One and all the other universes. If there is a full-on power struggle within the Organization, then Immortals will inevitably be pulled into it as well!"
I really hope he bought that, Yuuri thinks. Truthfully, I don't know too much about the current situation, but there's definitely more than one agenda out there. And Anya isn't necessarily the golden princess of the Organization either.
"If what you are saying is true, then what do you propose we do? What do you want from me, Yuuri Katsuki? My court detests the Arbitrator Elite, especially that bothersome Director of yours. How could an Arbitrator conflict affect us?"
"We keep all the universes in order!" Yuuri yells, stomping up to Victor. "Can't you see that? We keep the universes from collapsing in on themselves, and by extension, keep you from being annihilated by some freak accident across universes! You care about your people, and I care about mine. There's something that my team and I want; there's a mystery waiting to be solved. The Director and the rest of the Organization are not our allies."
Yuuri looks Victor dead in the eye, and then bows, back straight, head down. "I've already used two Lapses to track you down. I'm probably considered a criminal or renegade at this point, and if I were to be captured, I would be useless. Please… please allow me to request this… grant me amnesty from the Organization."
Yuuri breaks out of his bow and looks directly at Victor.
"Victor, please become my ally!"
"You are essentially saying that you are now an enemy of your Organization and that you wish to for us to aid you in whatever quest you have planned?" Victor asks. "If your Organization is in such turmoil, then I suppose that Immortals could be affected as well. But surely, isn't it more dangerous to bring you into our court?"
"I'm not an Arbitrator Elite, or part of the SCYS anymore," Yuuri says. "I'm barely even an Arbitrator, and they probably don't recognize me as such anymore. Don't worry about my loyalties; they lie with my team and my team only. And my team are not the Director's friends. If you become my ally, then you'll be part of my team too, Victor. I ask this of you because I know that there are too many plots within the Organization for my team to handle alone and because I know that someone has been spreading classified information about Immortals."
Yuuri stretches out an arm out to Victor. "I will protect you and your people if you will protect mine."
Victor's eyes, blue like a summer sea, sparkle for just a moment. "Why should I not accept someone unaffiliated with Arbitrators? I agree, Yuuri Katsuki, to your demands. You are well aware of what I wish in return, no? Will it be a pleasure to work with you?"
Yuuri smiles. "I'll make sure that it is. Welcome to the team, Victor Nikiforov."
"For the people who dream under the same star," Victor says, placing his hand in Yuuri's.
"For the people that defy the stars," Yuuri replies. "Thank you."
Victor smiles. "Are we not part of the same team now? What stars did I defy?"
Yuuri smiles earnestly and grips Victor's hand tightly. "Nonetheless, thank you. Thank you, Victor Nikiforov."
"You’re welcome, Yuuri Katsuki."