Chapter Text
“For those of you just tuning in, you are watching the live broadcast of day two-”
“Livestream, Alan.”
“-thank you, James—livestream—of day two here at the 2016 FCI World Dog Show in Moscow! We’re here today representing the UK Kennel Club. Very excited to be bringing you viewers at home an exclusive look into this outstanding event.”
“And a lovely show it is. Luckily, you don’t have to come all the way to Russia to see it, you can watch four days’ worth of events on our YouTube channel. Technology’s certainly come a long way since we started commentating, hasn’t it?”
“Too right it has! Now, coming up next will be the terrier group judging. Looking forward to it. Hundreds of terriers have come today and only the best of each breed have made it to this round of judging.”
“And who doesn’t love a terrier?”
“Ah, the viewers at home will be interested in this. I’ve just heard that all the way on the other side of the convention center they’ve finished setting up and the agility trials will be underway shortly. Always the most exciting events of any show and a marvelous opportunity to see the sheer athleticism of these dogs in action.”
“Of course the ABC—Anything But Collies—Agility Championship was held yesterday, and if you get a chance to watch it again on YouTube I highly recommend it. It was a wonderful showing.”
“A magnificent contest, James. The winner comes all the way from Japan—did very well in Crufts this year, too. Three time world champion, Yuuri Katsuki.”
“I believe he’s running his dog in the Standard International Agility Championship today, as well.”
“That’s right.”
“They’re saying he is the one to beat. And competing so far from home, too. It must be lonely at the top.”
“Oh it must. I do wonder how he manages to keep his head under all this pressure.”
“They say the Japanese are very stoic.”
U●ᴥ●U || U●ᴥ●U
....
Yuuri hoped the smile on his face looked natural. The family took their picture and walked off, children waving and chatting in excitement. He waved back stiffly. He would never get used to this part. Wanting to take pictures with Vicchan he could understand. But Yuuri? Yuuri with his chapped lips and smudged glasses? Had he even combed his hair today? He couldn’t wait to get back in the ring where he was more comfortable.
There was a time when Yuuri wanted to become a professional figure skater. He’d even competed at the national level and studied abroad for a few years in hopes of making his mark on the world stage. In the hopes of skating on the same ice as his idol.
But none of that seemed to matter after Vicchan got sick.
Vicchan was Yuuri’s closest friend and confidant. On bad days, Vicchan would always be there to lick away the tears or shove a cold nose in his face. And on bad days, when Yuuri thought fear and shame would shake him apart, Vicchan would be there, curled up with him in bed. Yuuri believed he wouldn’t be capable of standing on his own feet if it weren’t for his family and friends. Vicchan was both.
At 20, Yuuri was already struggling with doubt over his future in America. When he heard the news, he booked a flight back to Hasetsu and never looked back.
(Aside from a few wistful glances here or there.)
So Yuuri came home and spent every waking moment helping Vicchan recover. The poodle was also dangerously overweight, so the vet suggested agility as a healthy form of exercise. Willing to do anything, Yuuri set up a doggy obstacle course in the parking lot of the inn. At first, it was a struggle to get the pup to leave her doggy bed. But as the months flew by, Vicchan came into her own as an uncatchable, fluffy speed demon.
Agility was good for both of them. Vicchan was happy and healthy, it took Yuuri’s mind off of his failed skating career, and Vicchan’s tricks were a big hit at the inn so business had never been better.
To everyone’s surprise, Vicchan turned out to be some kind of prodigy at doggy athletics. It wasn’t too surprising, given that he’d been following Yuuri on his runs and to dance practices since he was a puppy. When Yuuri realized there was money to be made at agility competitions, he thought, “Oh why not?” They easily won their first competition. And their second. Then they just kept winning.
Yuuri (and Vicchan) were now somewhat famous in the dog show circuit, having won almost every major agility competition in the world at least once. And though the competition was fierce, it felt nothing like figure skating.
There was no anxiety, no blurred vision, no shortness of breath. Yuuri felt...laid back. It was weird. He guessed it was because of Vicchan. She was like a living, breathing security blanket. Having someone to take care of for a change also gave Yuuri a focus he’d never had on the ice. He often wondered if things would have been different if he’d been allowed to bring his poodle to skating events.
It also helped that it was Vicchan, not him, in the spotlight. The only part of Yuuri that ever made it on camera most of the time were his ankles. No one really looks at the human running in front of the cute dog.
The occasional interview that reduced him to a stammering mess was usually defused when the question of Vicchan’s name came up.
“Victor is an unusual name for a female poodle, what’s the story behind that?”
That’s when Yuuri’s nerves would be smothered by the feverish excitement of a true fan, ready to talk about Viktor Nikiforov and why he was so beautiful and so perfect and so amazing that no other name would possibly do.
(Gushing about Viktor Nikiforov had not been the best ice breaker in the pro skating community. You’d look like a weirdo. The great thing about dog people was their high tolerance for weirdness. Yuuri once met a woman who’d named her sheltie “Fat Bottomed Girl”—Bottom for short--after her favorite song.)
His babbling would be met with blank stares, of course. Not many people at these events tended to keep up with the sport. So Yuuri would eventually just say, “The name Victor suits her, because she always wins.”
Yuuri worried things would be different in Russia. It was his first time in the country and he had half expected Russian reporters to descend upon him for stealing the name of their national hero.
But aside from a few photo ops after their win the day before, the press didn’t seem interested. This morning it was mostly poodle lovers and really faithful agility enthusiasts who kept coming up to him and asking for a photo of his dog.
Yuuri carried Vicchan back to their bench to avoid taking more pictures. Like all the other dog handlers, he and Vicchan had their own little cubby area to put their things between competitions. It was the dog version of a locker room, rows of benches divided into square areas by partitions, and in each square a frazzled handler brushing their dog. Mari, who came with him to all his competitions, called them puppy cubicles.
Unlike a locker room, however, they were situated out in the open on the convention floor so anyone could walk up and ask to pet the dogs, or bring their own to say hello. Yuuri didn’t mind this at all, but the constant social interaction was exhausting. He was grateful for Mari’s presence at times like this. She didn’t mind picking up the slack in a conversation when Yuuri ran out of things to say.
She poked Yuuri in the scalp when he sat down. “I’m gonna go find a place where I can smoke without any dog people trying to deport me.”
Vicchan yipped in clear disapproval.
“Vicchan’s right,” Yuuri said. “I think you’re getting addicted to those things.”
Mari stuck out her tongue at them both. “No more letting mom babysit either of you from now on. She’s clearly a bad influence.”
“I’m 23.”
Mari shrugged, already walking away. “Vicchan, watch Yuuri for me! Make sure he doesn’t eat anything he’s not supposed to.”
Vicchan barked.
“I should never have gone to America, she turned you against me.”
Vicchan just licked him (right in the glasses) and crawled off to dive into her pile of toys.
Yuuri supposed he should be grateful that Vicchan was behaving at all. She had a tendency to get overexcited around other dogs and tire herself out playing before they even got to the agility course. They still had hours before the first round, actually. Maybe she’d be able to take a nap, and then Yuuri could-
BORF!
“Gah!”
Yuuri’s strangled shout was immediately smothered by the ocean of fur he was currently drowning in. The fur retreated enough for Yuuri to breathe, only for his face to be bathed in enthusiastic dog kisses. Vicchan came to Yuuri’s aid and helpfully barked in his ear.
It was a dog. A big friendly dog. With a lot of curls. “Okay, okay, nice to meet you, too,” Yuuri laughed and gently moved the new dog’s muzzle away. A brown standard poodle. Almost an exact copy of Vicchan, albeit huge and male. His fluffy tail was wagging as he stood with his front paws on Yuuri’s shoulders. Yuuri scratched behind his ears. “Good dog. Where did you come from, huh?”
Vicchan barked again, catching the bigger poodle’s attention. Yuuri tensed, since Vicchan tended to be territorial with her toys (and Yuuri), but the new poodle seemed to have won her approval because she let him nose at her favorite plastic ball.
No collar. No leash. The owner must be pretty irresponsible. There didn’t seem to be anyone nearby who looked like they were missing a standard poodle, either.
“Who do you belong to?” Mystery Poodle tilted his head, then went back to playing. Mystery Poodle and Vicchan were wrestling over the ball. Vicchan put up a good fight, but it was a losing battle.
“I guess when Mari gets back, I can ask her to watch Vicchan while I take you to a staffer. They’ll know what to do.”
Mystery Poodle won the ball and did a victory spin. Vicchan barked. She stared unblinking at her plundered treasure.
“Hm. But what if they don’t speak English…”
Mystery Poodle backed up a step, slobbery ball secured in his jaws.
“I guess we could-”
Vicchan pounced.
Yuuri realized what was about to happen too late. He watched in horror as Mystery Poodle dodged Vicchan’s attack and started to run. Yuuri made a frantic grab for Vicchan’s leash. Missed. Mystery Poodle was off like a rocket. Before Yuuri could react, Vicchan was after him, leash trailing uselessly behind her.
“Vicchan, no! Come!”
Yuuri ran. He sped through the benches, jumping over dog carriers. They were heading straight for a sea of people. Oh no. He cursed in Japanese when the dogs disappeared into a forest of human legs.
The convention hall was a chaotic tangle of dog show attendees and competitors. Other dogs (and their humans) yelped as Yuuri blundered through the crowd.
“Vicchan! Oide! Vicchan!”
Yuuri chased the poodles through the show dog prepping stations, apologizing to several angry groomers.
He knocked over a table of shampoo bottles.
He upset a pen of hysterical Chinese cresteds.
And now people were shouting at him in Russian.
“Oops—sorry! Sorry! I’m so sorry! P-prosti!”
He couldn’t stop, he had to follow the sound of barking…or alternatively, the trail of destruction. The poodles seemed to have agitated the other dogs and overturned a basin full of soapy water. There were a lot of wet Russians to apologize to, which Yuuri attempted as he skid by.
Their jaunt through the doggy baths slowed them down enough that Yuuri was able to catch up. The poodles had found their way into the Meet the Breed section of the show. They darted under tables. Jumped on tables. Jumped over a sleepy greyhound. Made a mess of the chihuahua booth. Sent the beagles into a frenzy.
Shouting apologies, Yuuri sprinted down the length of the aisle. The poodles had already moved on to the next section, gaining an advantage when Yuuri had to help the chihuahua guy out of the huge sombrero-shaped doggy tent that had collapsed on him.
Yuuri rounded the corner. He had no idea where he was now. It seemed to be a second bench site for handlers—more doggy cubicles. But there were fewer people in this area, allowing Yuuri to find the dogs before he could lose them in the rows. If he could just keep an eye on them...
Mystery Poodle suddenly froze, head cocked to the side.
Vicchan, unbothered, ran in a circle around him, barking excitedly.
Yuuri was almost on them when he heard a man’s voice shouting something frantic in Russian. Mystery Poodle’s ears perked up and he barked, running off again, Vicchan following.
“Vicchan, come back here!” Yuuri wheezed.
He lost sight of them again, but they were just in the next row. He could hear excited barking, shouting, then a crash. Yuuri groaned. Not again.
But the next sound he heard was laughter, followed by very fast, happy Russian. Yuuri finally reached the next row and saw that Mystery Poodle had bowled someone to the ground and was licking their face. Vicchan yipped and bounced around the man’s head. The man laughed and hugged Mystery Poodle, saying something to him that Yuuri couldn’t understand. He slowed to a stop, clutching the stitch in his side. This must be the owner. Thank god.
“Vicchan, come!” Yuuri said in his sternest You’re-In-Trouble-Young-Lady voice.
Vicchan gave him what Yuuri thought was a sheepish look and trotted back over to his side. Yuuri picked her up, wrapping the leash around his wrist for good measure.
“You little demon, never do that again! Honestly. You’re going to get us kicked out of Russia.”
Vicchan yawned.
“Unbelievable.”
The man on the ground sat up, face buried in his dog’s fur. He looked so relieved to be reunited that the lecture about irresponsible dog ownership, which had been building on Yuuri’s tongue, dissolved.
Mostly.
“Um. You should really leash your dog.”
“Oh? Helloomph!” the man tried to say through the tongue bath he was getting. “Makka, down! Hello! Are you the one who found him?!” The man’s English was smooth and accented.
“Sort of. He found me.” Silver hair? How old was this guy? Yuuri shifted uncomfortably. What if he’d fallen and broken a hip or something? “Hey um. Are you okay?”
“More than, now that my Makka is back safe. I’ve been looking everywhere for you! I was so worried, what if you’d been hit by a car, or eaten by a bear?” He vigorously ruffled the dog’s floppy ears. Yuuri still couldn’t see his face while he was half covered in poodle on the floor, but he didn’t seem like an 80 year old man who needed an ambulance. “You’re so lucky this kind stranger brought you back to me.”
“I really didn’t do anything useful.” He really hadn’t. “So, uh, I better get going. But like I said, you have to leash your dog in here. It’s a big place, so...”
“Wait, I haven’t thanked you yet.”
The man whipped out a handkerchief and used it to delicately wipe the drool from his face. He stood up and hid the cloth away again in one smooth motion.
“You were completely right about the leash, I should have been more careful. I can’t thank you enough for your help. I hope Makka didn’t cause you too much trouble.”
The dazzling smile sent Yuuri’s way made his heart stop.
“I’m Viktor. And this is Makkachin.”