Chapter Text
“Keep this safe, Yuuri, treasure it always,” his father smiled, holding the cloak in his hands.
“I will,” Yuuri answered, nodding his head enthusiastically. His father laughed and ruffled his hair.
“Your training has gone very well, son. You’ll be able to do this when I’m gone.”
Yuuri frowned, “But that won’t be for a very long time, right?”
His father grinned and ruffled his hair again, “Of course.”
Yuuri gave a small smile, burying his nose in the soft, worn fabric of the cloak. He inhaled and for a second, he swore it smelled of his mother’s cooking and his father’s cologne. Vicchan barked, bringing him out of his daze. He was back in his room. The sound of seagulls chirping outside his window. The sun was setting casting a light glow of purple, orange, and yellow hues in his room. Vicchan barked again, the sound followed by a pit-pat of small paws against wooden floors. Yuuri glanced up just in time to see his small poodle step through the door of his room, his empty bowl dangling from his mouth. He barked again, or tried to, the sound muffled by the metal bowl. Yuuri laughed, and stood up, “Come on, Vica,” he said gently, patting the top the poodle’s head. “Let’s get you some food.”
Vicchan wagged his tail and ran in a circle before leading Yuuri out of the room. Yuuri shook his head and took a step, before quickly turning and grabbing the cloak. He draped it over his shoulders, inserting the black latch into the open fold. The cloak fell smoothly over the rest of his body, and Yuuri smiled, “You would have been proud, otousan.” Vicchan barked again, and Yuuri heard a crash of metal hitting wood. Yuuri sighed then ran out of his room, Vicchan’s name falling from his mouth with a laugh.
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The stars twinkled and danced when Yuuri came outside. The top of the sun was still visible on the horizon. Yuuri walked to the edge of the balcony and leaned on the metal bars. He glanced up and took a deep breath.
“You have to raise your hands towards the sky, Yuuri,” his father said, lifting his own hands up.
Yuuri’s brow furrowed, “But, otosan, how will the stars know what I’m saying? They don’t have eyes to see my hands.”
Yuuri’s father laughed, his whole body shaking, but before he could answer, Yuuri’s mom spoke, “It’s the gift, Yuuri.”
“From our ancestors?” Yuuri asked, his eyes widening. His parents nodded. “Tell me the story again, okasan.” His mother laughed and sat down on the rocking chair by the door of the balcony.
“Come here, Yuuri,” she said, her arms opening. Yuuri rushed into her lap and listened attentively as his mother started telling the story of his ancestors, “A very long time ago, your great great great,” Yuuri giggled, “great, great, grandfather saved a man who looked like a human, but was greater than one…”
“Yuuri, what are you thinking about?” The stars asked, their bodies flaring. Yuuri raised his head, not having realized he had put his head in his hands and lifted his arms.
“I’m just remembering my parents,” Yuuri replied, the stars twinkled in understanding and in nostalgia. Yuuri’s father was the best star-talker his family had ever had. Yuuri had quite a reputation to uphold.
“You’re great, Yuuri,” the Northern star assured him and Yuuri smiled.
“Are you ready to guide some boats?” The star-clutter, Orion, questioned. Yuuri laughed and moved his fingers. He put his hands down and turned to Vicchan who had finally finished his meal and came out to the balcony.
“Alright, boy,” Yuuri started, walking over to the door that leads up to the lighthouse, “Let’s do this.”
Ten minutes later, the stars were alive with the message Yuuri had sent out, warning the sailors of the strong winds coming from the north, the light storm in the east, and the migration of the whales in the west. The light from the lighthouse shined brightly as it turned, inviting lost sailors to follow it to safety. Vicchan stood proudly at the edge of the balcony, ready to alert Yuuri if he saw any strays and people in need of help. Yuuri sat down next to him, his legs dangling off the edge of the balcony and sighed happily.
His job was hard and it was tiring, but he enjoyed it. He loved it so much. This sense of duty was everything to him. He enjoyed the company of the stars and the connection it gave him to his parents and his ancestors. He could never imagine doing anything else, much less leaving this place. His home. His sanctuary. Vicchan barked and Yuuri pulled out his telescope. A small ship boarding three people was nearing the shore of the lighthouse. They seemed to be wet, their clothes clinging to them and drooping awkwardly in certain places, but otherwise unharmed.
Yuuri smiled and turned to his poodle, “Let’s get to work.”