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Yuuri is very, very drunk when Mari first tells Viktor about Vicchan.
It’s late, Yuuri’s running on the last of his lucidity for the evening, and only the length of Viktor’s body at his side is keeping him upright. At some point, Yuuri makes the conscious decision to stop participating in the conversation, and the logical thread of it is quickly and permanently lost. He dozes on Viktor’s shoulder for an indeterminable amount of time afterward, and only the familiar syllables that make up Vicchan’s name drag him back into a semi-wakeful state.
But maybe his sister said “Vitya”, because with her accent, her pronunciation of “Vicchan” and “Vitya” probably sound very similar, and there doesn’t seem to be any reason for her to bring up Vicchan. He tries to pin down what they’re talking about, but they keep bouncing between languages and Mari’s English is truly function only while Viktor’s accent in every language is melodic and elegant and gorgeous and—
“What’s he smiling about?”
Who was that? Yuuko?
Viktor and Mari both go silent. Yuuri feels the muscles in Viktor’s shoulder shift as he turns his head.
“Yuuri?” Viktor murmurs, sounding fond.
“Nothing,” Yuuri says in carefully enunciated Japanese.
“What did he say?” Takeshi asks.
Yuuri grumbles an incoherent string of noises that he himself can’t parse out and very, very soon after that, falls asleep.
•
“Yuuri?”
“He is asleep.”
“So he is. … I’m sorry, you were saying? We were up to age fourteen, I think.”
“Yes, yes, fourteen. At Yuuri’s first day of high school, Vicchan left this house looking for Yuuri—”
“Wow!”
•
Memory returns to Yuuri in fragments the following day while he and Mari are fixing the drain in their parents’ personal bathtub. More accurately, Mari is fixing the drain and Yuuri is nursing a hangover by the open window where the fresh air makes him feel slightly less like actual death. Outside, Viktor is jogging in circles with Makkachin on his heels, laughing brightly with his head back while Makkachin barks.
“Hey,” Yuuri says.
Mari keeps focused on maneuvering the hook in the drain. “Mm?”
“Did you call Viktor ‘Vitya’ last night?”
Mari’s entire body seems to freeze for a comically long moment, then reanimates with a vigorous air of nonchalance. “I don’t think so,” she says. “When?”
Yuuri frowns, then winces when it angers his pain-addled brain. “Last night,” he says.
“You mean while you were drunk?” she teases, tugging now at whatever’s stuck in the drain.
Yuuri pulls his thigh up to his chest and rests his cheek on his knee. He probably misheard her. “I might throw up,” he decides to share.
“Plug the tub before you do,” Mari says with a smirk, “or you’re fixing this on your own.”
“Understood,” Yuuri mumbles into his thigh.
•
“Mari, I’m sorry to bother you—”
“Mm! No problem, no problem. Do you need something?”
“This is Vicchan, right?”
“Ahh, yes.”
“How old is Yuuri here?”
“Hmm. Maybe eleven.”
“Thank you, Mari.”
“Eh? Why?”
“Oh, it’s nothing. It just didn’t sink in for me until I saw this how close they must have been. I’ll let you get back to work! See you at dinner!”
•
In the days leading up to it, the Cup of China occupies most of Yuuri’s thoughts. The evening before their flight to Beijing is scheduled to depart, Yuuri takes a jog around the neighborhood by himself. It doesn’t settle his nerves, and he didn’t expect it to, but it exhausts his body enough that he might sleep if he tries. When he returns to the onsen, he uses the side entrance to avoid discovery. It’s not terribly late, but if Viktor finds out he’s still awake, he probably won’t be pleased.
It’s the scent in the hallway that catches him, preceded by the white tendrils of fragrant incense winding into the hallway. He follows both to the source and hesitates when he realizes it’s the room containing Vicchan’s shrine. He peeks in and startles at the sight of Viktor and Mari inside, heads bent together. Viktor’s in his pajamas kneeling on a pillow before the shrine, shifting a little in what Yuuri assumes is discomfort from holding seiza longer than he’s used to (which is probably not at all). Mari sits beside him on the tatami without a pillow, holding seiza with far more poise even though Yuuri knows she hates it. She’s showing Viktor something on her smartphone and speaking in a voice so soft Yuuri can’t even tell whether she’s speaking Japanese or English.
Viktor nods promptly and Mari’s answering smile is relieved, so Yuuri assumes it’s English.
He decides not to disturb them, puzzled but willing to let them have their own moments to bond. He can’t imagine the two of them have many points where they overlap, and if they’ve found one, he’s glad.
…Though if Yuuri had to guess, he’d say that point is him. His older sister is likely sharing some mortifying tale from Yuuri’s teenage years, an excerpt from her work-in-progress, The Many and Varied Chronicles of My Little Brother’s Nearly Lifelong Crush on Viktor Nikiforov.
The best case scenario here is that whatever Mari’s telling him, Viktor won’t bring it up, and Yuuri can pretend to be oblivious forever.
•
“Vicchan was like Yu-topia mascot. Almost customers loved him.”
“Almost all?”
“Ah, sorry. Almost all customers loved him. At that time, I open door to Yuuri’s bedroom every night and he sleeps on bed. This.”
“Oh, wow. May I have that photo?”
“Of course, of course. Ah, but…. Mm.”
“I won’t show Yuuri. I promise.”
“I think maybe that is best.”
•
Following the GPF, Viktor remains in Russia to prepare for his triumphant return at Russian Nationals, and Yuuri stays with him as long as he can. He knows he’s tempting the ire of the Russian Federation by training in an official Russian rink unofficially with three of Russia’s star singles skaters, but the larger part of the decision-making portion of Yuuri’s brain deems it a necessary risk. He doesn’t want to leave Viktor yet; it’s that simple.
Besides, Yakov seems to have a downright antagonistic relationship with the Russian Federation, and when he notices Yuuri’s discomfort as he laces up his skates one morning, he tells Yuuri with smug gruffness, “The longer you stay, the funnier my morning emails get. I can hear the steam pouring out of their ears from my kitchen.”
Yuri smirks at Yuuri from the ice, hair pulled back into a ponytail and arms sprawled on the edge of the rink. “Looks like you’ve got an open invite,” he says, “as long as it pisses off the Feds.”
Viktor appears from the ether and ruffles Yuri’s hair with a warm laugh. “Your English is so cute, Yurio,” he says. Before Yuri can bite him, Viktor extends the very same hand to Yuuri and says, “Ready, beautiful?”
A distant camera sound echoes off the ice and Mila shouts, “I’m uploading this, okay?”
Viktor calls, “Fine, fine,” in Russian with a dismissive wave, and Yuuri sighs, but he’s smiling as he takes Viktor’s hand.
•
“Hello, Mari~!”
“Hello, Viktor! Good morning? Good afternoon?”
“Morning! A beautiful morning! Eh, Yuuri, don’t go back to sleep! We’re leaving after I hang up! Yuuri!”
“Ha! He is very tired?”
“He is. That’s probably my own fault, though.”
“Eh? I’m sorry, one more? Can you say again?”
“Ah, nothing, never mind! How are you? Still busy?”
“Busy? Eh…maa-maa. A little bit?”
“Really? But there were so many people when we left!”
“Mm, yes. Ah, I’m sorry, Viktor? My mother wants to say hello to you, too.”
“Oh, of course!”
•
Yuuri secures gold at Japanese Nationals and handles all the post-competition interviews with Minako-sensei at his shoulder and Mari hanging back hugging one of the overstuffed onigiri pillows collected off the ice. Minako-sensei offers the press charming and polite remarks that add more content to Yuuri’s sleepy, rote responses. Mari contributes by giving Yuuri hot bottles of tea and when he finishes them, replaces them with new ones.
The following day on the shuttle train to the airport, Yuuri sends a photo of his medal to Viktor and Viktor sends the same photo back emblazoned with a kiss mark on the center. Yuuri downloads it to his phone and tucks his wide smile under his scarf.
Russian Nationals have yet to wrap up, but Yuuri has utter confidence in Viktor. Not only because Yuuri carries the unshakable faith of a die-hard fan, but also because he knows firsthand the strength of Viktor’s heart. He’ll win.
Mari peers at his smartphone screen and says, “Ask him when he’s coming back to Hasetsu.”
Yuuri doesn’t, instead inquiring as to how Yuri’s doing.
“Yuuri,” Mari says, nudging him. “Ask him.”
He sighs and writes, [My sister wants to know when you’re coming to Hasetsu next.]
Mari seems to recognize enough nouns to confirm Yuuri’s done what she asked and says, “Thank you.”
Yuuri rolls his eyes vaguely toward the ceiling, and she grins and jabs his side with his elbow.
Viktor writes back, [Yurio misses you. Does your family miss me? Maybe I’ll move in~]
“What did he say?” Mari asks.
Yuuri groans and with reluctance, he translates.
She laughs and says, “Tell him to—hey, he has LINE, right? Tell me his username.” She pulls out her phone and gives him an expectant look.
Yuuri blinks back, long enough that his phone screen goes dark. At last, he manages a, “What?”
She pokes his bicep through his jacket hard enough that it stings a little. “Tell me!” she wheedles. “I can get it from Mom even if you won’t.”
“Why does Mom have it?”
“She asked him, obviously. Come on, I don’t want to be the only one in the family who doesn’t get to chat with him.”
Instead of answer her, Yuuri asks Viktor what he thinks.
“Yuuri, stop ignoring me. Yuuri. Yuuri!”
[It’s fine with me!] Viktor replies.
“Okay, fine,” Yuuri says, batting her hand away. He shows her Viktor’s information page and, while she runs a search for him, Yuuri adds, “Please don’t tell him anything embarrassing about me.”
Mari says, “Mm hmm,” but she doesn’t appear to be listening. “Got it. Thanks, Yuuri.” She turns her phone away from Yuuri and starts, presumably, messaging the greatest love and light of Yuuri’s life.
He switches his chat to Phichit instead, bewildered.
•
[Hello, Viktor! This is Katsuki Mari! I am happy to have your message information! Please let’s talk in English a lot! I want to become better at English more than my brother! ^^]
[Hello, Mari! I’m sure you will! Yuuri’s started learning Russian, so I’m sure he’ll forget all his English before long!]
[Ha ha ha! I think so too! How is Yurio??]
[Image sent]
[!!!!!!!!!!! WAAAAAA!!!!!!]
•
Preparations for Yuuri’s move to Russia take a considerable amount of time, and when they’re all wrapped up, it leaves Yuuri feeling like he hasn’t slept in a year. He tries to wake up earlier and earlier to ease the transition to St. Petersburg’s time zone, and eventually makes it to the point where he can join his parents in the kitchen while they take their breakfast, before the sun’s even risen.
His mother doles out bowls of miso soup while his father drizzles ginger dressing over their salads, and Yuuri pours hojicha into cups for the three of them. The rush of icy sleet patters on the windows as they eat, and Yuuri finds his sleepy thoughts overwhelmed by the realization that in a few short days he’ll be in even harsher weather but with the added bonus of Viktor to snuggle with. He knows firsthand how warm and comfortable and secure Viktor’s arms feel when they’re tucked around him, and it’s almost too much to bear thinking of experiencing that every night.
He tries to tamp down his smile, but his mother is quick.
“Thinking about your move?” she asks.
He nods, pretending his face isn’t hot. “I’m sorry I’m not staying longer to help out here,” he says. Ever since the season began, he hasn’t really done much at all to give his family a hand.
His mother makes a fond noise. “That’s not your responsibility, Yuuri. We have Mari.”
“We don’t need extra staff for the number of customers we get,” his father adds with a chuckle. “Especially since Viktor left.”
Yuuri brings his chopsticks to his mouth, but not until the empty tips touch his lips does he realize he hasn’t picked anything up with them. He quickly seizes a tomato off his salad to cover.
•
[Image sent]
[Ahh, thank you, Mari!]
[He is in plane!]
[I’m sure you’re going to miss him a lot. I’m sorry I’m taking him away from you!]
[No, no! It’s very long dream for him. He is very happy to come to Russia and live together with you.]
[I’ll take care of him. ♡]
[I know you will!!! You are very good person, Viktor. You are very kindly to my brother and Yurio.]
[Aww, Mari. That’s very sweet. Will we see you at Four Continents?]
[Ah, no, I’m so sorry. T__T We are not so busy, but I must work.]
[Oh, I see. I understand.]
[Minako-sensei will go! I will see on TV too!]
[I’ll make sure to wave at you!]
[Ha ha! I will wave too!]
•
In February, Yuuri wakes up in Viktor’s bed, body toasty and hair mussed from Viktor nuzzling into it. With drowsy fingertips, Yuuri finds Viktor’s arm around his chest and draws lines over the sinew there, down to his knuckles and over the warm band around his fourth finger.
Viktor wakes a little more and brings Yuuri in closer, sighing with what sounds to Yuuri like utter bliss. If Yuuri’s eyes dampen a little, no one’s around to bear witness.
Viktor murmurs something resembling, “Good morning,” against Yuuri’s bare shoulder.
“I dreamed we held an ice show in Hasetsu,” Yuuri tells him. He stretches his legs out and sighs at the pleasurable burn in his thighs. Training for Four Continents pales in comparison to what the two of them did last night, but it’s left him relaxed in ways he didn’t know he could feel. “I thought it was Tokyo at first, there were so many people there. But it was the Ice Castle—it was remodeled, maybe.”
Viktor hums. He kisses the slope of Yuuri’s shoulder and then, likely just to please himself, runs the tip of his tongue over Yuuri’s skin.
Yuuri shivers and presses his shoulder back, and that’s the end of conversation for a while.
•
[Mari, I had an idea today, and I wonder if I can run it by you.]
[What does it mean?]
[I was thinking of when we did Onsen on Ice last year, and what a perfect opportunity it was to showcase the Ice Castle, Hasetsu and Yu-topia. I’d like to have another show like that again at some point, but this year is very busy for me. :/ But I have another idea. I sell some items with Makkachin’s image on them, and they make a decent amount of money. I don’t really promote them, so they would probably sell a lot more if I did. So I was thinking: you told me once that Vicchan was like the mascot of Yu-topia. Maybe we could promote the onsen more by selling goods online with Vicchan on them? I can commission the same artist who illustrated Makkachin, and maybe add a merchandise section to the Yu-topia website? I already see Yuuri’s fans with homemade Vicchan goods, so I’m sure they’d support some official merchandise as well. What do you think?]
[Wow it’s very long. Please wait!]
[Ah, I’m sorry!]
[I’m sorry! My English is not high level. ^^;;;; Maybe I understand you! You would like to sell your goods on Yu-topia website?]
[No, no, not me. The onsen would get all the money from the sales.]
[Eh! Maybe I don’t understand! I’m sorry!]
[No, no, it’s my fault! Let me try to explain again! I want to promote the onsen. I think Vicchan should be the official onsen mascot. If your family sells goods with Vicchan on them, I think they’ll make money and get publicity! Also, I’ll commission an artist to illustrate the image for the goods. I won’t charge you. I want to do it as a gift. Your family has been very kind to me.]
[You are very very kindly, Viktor. ♡ I will talk my parents first. Is it okay?]
[Of course! Take your time! Please tell them hello for me!]
[Of course! My mother is very want to see you again.]
•
To no one’s surprise, Viktor’s official comeback season is jam-packed with events and competitions, and summer is no exception. June will see him in St. Petersburg for only a total of twelve days, and his first trip requires him to spend a week abroad. Though their relationship is still in its first year, they’ve already had quite a bit of experience with separation when the poor timing of competitions demands it, but to Yuuri’s embarrassment, it’s not getting any easier.
The night before Viktor’s flight, he’s a little slower to let go when Viktor catches him in a spontaneous hug as they cross paths in the living room.
Viktor holds him at arm’s length and smiles. “Are you going to miss me, Yuuri?” he asks.
It’s no secret to Yuuri that Viktor enjoys saying his name. In bed, over the phone, from a distance, during training—even to himself sometimes, when he thinks no one can hear him. The word always sounds so gentle wrapped in Viktor’s voice, and there are moments like now that make Yuuri marvel that that cherished, soft-spoken name belongs to him.
He nods and moves in closer, resting his cheek against Viktor’s shoulder. “Can’t be helped,” he murmurs.
Viktor exhales every last bit of breath in his lungs and holds on tight. “Don’t say that,” he says. “It sounds like a challenge. I could cancel everything with one phone call.”
“You wouldn’t, though,” Yuuri says. He kisses Viktor’s neck. “You’re too professional for that.”
Viktor crooks a finger under Yuuri’s chin and draws him up into a quick peck. “Yuuri,” he says with great fondness, “do I need to remind you again about the night we met?”
Yuuri pushes him away by the face, but he doesn’t resist when Viktor grins and pulls him back.
•
[Hello, Viktor! The weather in Hasetsu is very hot! In Russia it is cold, yes? I am a little envy! Congratulations again for many medals! I’m sorry it is so long I write you. m___m I have explained my parents and they are very excited your idea for Vicchan goods!]
[Really?? Excellent!!]
[Yes! They want to discuss with you, but they cannot write in English and it is difficult for me to translate so much.]
[I understand! I’ll stop by Hasetsu!]
[Eh?? What???]
•
Yuuri’s constant companion while Viktor is gone is Makkachin. The two of them have developed a routine over the last several months, and they stick to it despite the occasional spell of rain.
They jog for part of the way, across the bridge, along the river, and walk the rest of the way to the pedestrian road filled with small shops. There’s a bakery there that Yuuri loves, and sometimes he indulges his rebellious side and emerges from the shop armed with fluffy carbohydrates lightly dusted with powdered sugar. Makkachin never tells on him, and Yuuri always rewards her for her discretion with (extremely rare, very expensive, senior dog-approved) treats.
Spending time with Makkachin reminds Yuuri what peace of heart feels like.
Vicchan liked to sleep on top of him. Sprawled on his back, paws tucked in, curly belly fur rising and falling with each breath, the tip of his tiny tongue poking out. Yuuri’s first Instagram post was a blurry shot of Vicchan waking up from such a pose, curious about the noise-making thing in Yuuri’s hand.
Years in Detroit alongside Phichit and his beloved hamster trio made Yuuri miss Vicchan with a terrible ache. He missed the extra patch of heat against his chest, the scent of freshly shampooed fur, and the cold, wet nose that pressed against his face as Vicchan tried to investigate why Yuuri was awake but not out of bed yet.
Losing Vicchan’s effervescent presence in his life still feels like a cut too deep to ever heal. Nearly two years on, Yuuri has accepted that he might always feel a tinge of regret and a wave of sadness whenever he thinks about Vicchan. He told Viktor once, while Viktor was asleep, that he’s starting to forget exactly what Vicchan’s bark sounded like.
He should have taken more videos.
•
“This irasuto is very cute!”
“I think so too.”
“How do you—artist is friend?”
“He designs my costumes sometimes, actually. I mentioned to him once years ago that I wanted to sell Makkachin merchandise and he offered to do the artwork for me. He also sells his paintings online. See? This is his site.”
“Is it, ah, expensive?”
“Shh, that doesn’t concern you.”
“Eh? Concern? What does it mean?”
“It’s rude to ask the price of a gift, Mari-neesan.”
“Ehhh!”
“I refuse to discuss money with you until I’ve married your brother and we’re legally family.”
“But you call me Mari-neesan!”
“Hmm?”
“…You are very sneaky man, Viktor.”
“Ahh, I hear your mother calling me. One moment.”
“My mother is grocery store!”
•
While Yuuri’s uploading a video of Makkachin offering her paw to Instagram, a message from Viktor arrives.
It’s a photo of him in front of Yu-topia, his arms around each of Yuuri’s parents, a giddy smile lighting his face.
[I stopped by to see your family on my way back! Do you need anything from your room~?]
Yuuri closes his mouth when he realizes it’s hanging open. On the way…? From France…?
•
“How many item?”
“I think we should start with three and see how they do. The little stuffed Vicchan, of course, and maybe two others. What are popular items in Japan, souvenir-wise? Or merchandise-wise?”
“Mm. Popular items…maybe for onsen the goods are not so exciting. Rice cracker or something. But at live they sell many interesting goods, like group’s T-shirt and penlight and hand towel. But Yuuri’s fans are many age, not just young. Maybe hand towel is good? Then both can use.”
“Like the little towels people carry around here?”
“Yes, yes. Like this one! It is mine.”
“Is that Yurio?”
“No, no! This is Japanese singer. But his face is the same Yurio’s face!”
“Mari-neesan, please show me where you bought this.”
•
Viktor doesn’t exactly explain himself when he gets back. Instead he posts exactly fourteen photos of himself in Hasetsu, apropos of nothing, and hands out a metric ton of souvenirs he carried back for their rinkmates. (He drapes a small square towel on Yuri’s head and beams when Yuri flings it to the ice and then gapes at the perfect likeness of himself staring back through cartoon eyes.)
Yakov seems pleased enough with his rice crackers that he barely comments on the deeply unnecessary detour Viktor took on his way back to St. Petersburg. From. France.
There’s no end to Yuuri’s curiosity about that, but Viktor is utterly dismissive of the whole side trip. He claims a number of reasons, none of which make satisfactory sense, and then he asks Yuuri for an opinion on his free skate program.
The request stuns Yuuri into blank incredulity and an hour later, he’s utterly spellbound when Viktor actually appears to take Yuuri’s feedback to heart.
•
[It’s good news Viktor! There are many reservation at the onsen recently! Not so many tourists in summer usually but many come. They say to see original place of Onsen on Ice. It is probably your Insta upload!]
[Excellent! I’m glad my side trip helped!]
[Very much! Many more help when Vicchan goods are debut I think!]
[That’s right!! I’m thinking—maybe on Yuuri’s birthday? :)]
[That’s good idea! He will be very happy! Probably he will cry too.]
[We’re well-versed in that by now, I think.]
•
Viktor’s final trip of the summer is in early August, and this time he hugs Yuuri extra long before he leaves the apartment.
“I hate leaving you,” he says against Yuuri’s neck. He left a mark there earlier and Yuuri sighs with contentment when he feels Viktor’s lips touch the same spot.
He’s tempted to tell Viktor to stay—just as he always is—but instead he rests his chin on Viktor’s shoulder and memorizes the scent of his new, citrus-scented cologne.
He asks their elderly neighbor Caterina if she’ll watch Makkachin while he accompanies Viktor to the airport, and she agrees with her usual enthusiasm. Makkachin doesn’t really need anyone to look after her for such a short trip, but she enjoys Caterina’s company. Sure enough, the moment human and dog are reunited on the floor of the apartment, there may as well be a shower of rainbows and butterflies to commemorate the moment.
“I can see how vital my presence is, hm?” Viktor says, eyebrow delicately arched.
Makkachin whuffs at him, upside down on the floor while Caterina rubs Makkachin’s belly and coos over how good a girl she is.
Viktor hums tolerantly and reaches down to stroke the curve of Makkachin’s neck. She licks his fingers.
In the taxi, Viktor maneuvers his arm underneath Yuuri’s, slots their forearms together, and laces their fingers. “Can I nap on you?” he asks. His chin is already on Yuuri’s shoulder, his eyes glistening like jewels in so radiant a way that a much younger Yuuri once thought it had to be some miracle of photo editing.
“Sure,” he says, and as soon as Viktor’s cheek has found a comfortable nook, Yuuri rests his own cheek on Viktor’s temple.
For a while, the cab’s radio emits some soothing melody, and Yuuri almost drifts off completely. When he whispers, “I love you, Vitya,” it doesn’t register for him that he’s never said that name aloud before.
It also doesn’t seem to register for Viktor right away, either. He murmurs, “Mm,” and snuggles in closer, squeezing Yuuri’s hand. Then, he sits up with such electric force, it startles the driver into jamming the steering wheel a little to the left.
Yuuri squeaks, but Viktor is intent.
“What did you say?” Viktor asks. His voice is more urgent than Yuuri’s ever heard it, and his face is so terribly exposed and vulnerable Yuuri’s overcome with the urge to shield it from the driver, even though the poor man appears to be extra focused on the road now that he has reason to suspect that one of his passengers might be an unpredictable risk to his concentration.
Thus convinced that the driver doesn’t care and that they have relative privacy, Yuuri allows a fond smile to take to his lips. “Vitya,” he says. His face is hot already, and heating more every minute Viktor continues to give him that Look.
It probably isn’t the wisest thing Yuuri could have said out of consideration for their driver, because Viktor makes a low, emotional sound and covers his mouth with one hand while his eyes start to shine. “Yuuri.”
Yuuri blushes and smiles and says, “Vitya,” again, because Viktor deserves it.
•
[Can you tell me what the problem is? I saw your email but I couldn’t read the Japanese parts, I’m sorry.]
[Maker is having problem with Vicchan doll!! He say irasuto is not enough detail, so he send me this photo.]
[Image sent.]
[Oh, that’s ugly. That’s unacceptable.]
[Yes I think so too!!! I tell maker he must use design in Viktor’s friend’s irasuto and he reply that email I send you.]
[What did he say?]
[Ah, I’m sorry, I am anger so I am forget translation. He say Viktor’s friend’s design is not good resolution quality, so the many mistake is not maker’s fault.]
[But he sent us a photo of a bear!]
[Yes! He is dumbass!]
[Wow! I’ve never heard or seen you curse before, Mari-neesan!]
[Oh I’m sorry! m____m;;;]
[No no no, it was very funny!]
[Actually I hear it from Yurio many time.]
[…Ahhh.]
[He is funny boy.]
[Yes. Yes, he is.]
[Please tell him good luck in Canada!]
[You have my word!]
•
Viktor hangs Yuuri’s gold from Skate Canada next to his own from the Cup of China. Yuuri’s is framed in glass (following the requisite kiss—and far more besides), and the sight of it proudly displayed in their living room is making Yuuri’s eyes sting.
Ever sharp and aware of Yuuri in a way no one has ever been, Viktor curls around Yuuri’s body and kisses his cheek from over Yuuri’s shoulder. “You’re not done yet,” he teases softly.
Yuuri nods, his eyes fixed on their reflection in the glass even as he reaches up to squeeze Viktor’s forearm with both hands.
“I know.”
Nagoya is the host city for the GPF this year. There’s a good chance, if he qualifies, that Mari will be able to come support him, and Minako-sensei already promised her attendance back in June.
All he has to do now is ensure he’s there, too.
•
[Image sent.]
[Oh, who’s this?]
[This is Souya! He is our cousin! He has graduated university in Kumamoto and so we will hire him for part-time job!]
[That’s excellent news! Business is improving, then?]
[Yes! Maybe not same as popular onsen in more famous area, but it is good improvement for us! We are very happy! Also, tonight we will watch Skate America on a biggest room’s TV with many our guests! Davai, Viktor! We are cheering for you!]
•
After Viktor secures a gold in New York at Skate America, he and Yuuri immediately board a red-eye to Tokyo.
To celebrate qualifying for the GPF, Viktor has booked them a truly ostentatious room at the Ritz-Carlton. They’re escorted there by a staff person who clearly knows who they are but is every ounce a professional and only explains the finer aspects of the room and the mechanics of the curtain controls by the bed. Yuuri makes a sleepy note to himself to leave them an autograph.
He’s too tired to do anything more than sleep that first night, following a joint shower, but Viktor has a curious amount of energy for someone who’s just competed in an athletic competition and then flown across the world. In any case, he smells nice and he’s holding Yuuri so securely, and Yuuri can’t remember ever feeling so safe.
As he succumbs to sleep, he thinks he sees Mari’s name light up on Viktor’s phone screen.
•
[He’s asleep. Oh, he’s so cute.]
[Image sent.]
[Isn’t he beautiful?]
[Ha ha! There is saliva(?) his face.]
[Taken care of! ♡ Is everything prepared for Wednesday?]
[Yes! Everything is ready.]
[I’ve truly enjoyed working together with you on this project, Mari-neesan. Thank you.]
[No no no! I am thankful to you! I am very gratitude for your help my family. Thank you, Vitya.]
[(Because you are family too!)]
…
…
[I am sorry! Did I make mistake? Yuuri told me it is okay for family!!]
[No. Not at all. I just accidentally woke up Yuuri. ;__;]
[Ha ha ha! He has selected best husband.]
[(///_///)!!!!]
•
“What do you think I’ve gotten you for your birthday, Yuuri?”
“Eh? Oh. I didn’t…think you got me anything. You don’t have to get me anything, Vitya.”
Viktor’s face is almost comically torn between offense from the answer and affection from the nickname. “Yuuri!” he says, completing the show of disbelief with both hands on his hips. “It’s your birthday! Of course I got you something.”
It’s a little difficult to take him seriously while he’s naked and thigh-deep in water and snow is gathering on his hair, but Yuuri gives it his best try, peering up at his fiancé from the submerged stone seat he’s relaxing on. “Well, okay, but I packed with you,” he feels the need to point out.
That, for some reason, appears to cheer Viktor considerably. “Ahh, I see,” he says, putting a finger to his chin. “You think your gift is small enough to fit in a bag?” Mischief sparkles in his eyes.
Alarm thrills through Yuuri’s body. Logically, that means it’s…bigger than a suitcase.
Viktor takes in his reaction and laughs. And laughs. And doesn’t explain.
“V-Vitya….”
Yuuri’s fiancé, Living Legend Viktor Nikiforov, extends his hand to Yuuri and, with a coy smile, says, “Would you like to find out?”
•
[We’re on our way!]
[OK!!!!]
•
There are a number of scenarios playing out in Yuuri’s mind as Viktor leads him down the onsen hallways one at a time. He answers all of Yuuri’s questions with soft hums and chuckles, so Yuuri quickly gives up. The suit Viktor bought him last year was extravagance beyond Yuuri’s comprehension, and the words you think your gift is small enough to fit in a bag? are churning in the pit of his stomach.
The likelihood that Viktor’s bought him a car and had it quietly shipped to Hasetsu seems very probable.
When they stop near the front door, Yuuri thinks, No, no way, but Viktor doesn’t lead him down into the entryway but instead presses his free hand to Yuuri’s lower back and guides him toward the gift shop.
Yuuri blinks at him, at his secretive grin, then he notices Mari standing behind the counter inside, dressed in her maroon uniform and smiling at them.
“Why—?”
Yuuri’s eyes pass over the focal point of the store, then snap back to it, the breath leaving him in a startled gust.
It’s a testament to how firmly Vicchan still lives in his heart that Yuuri doesn’t mistake the fluffy face on the display for the larger poodle he’s spent the past year sleeping beside and exploring St. Petersburg with—he knows from a single glance that that’s his boy.
His eyes twinge with heat, and Viktor’s arm winds around him just as the tears begin to fall.
The display case is a new item all on its own, made with a glossier type of wood than what makes up the other shelves in the store. Vicchan’s image appears all over in a variety of poses: running, sitting in the onsen with a towel on his head, hanging off a table with a bowl of katsudon on it, head inside an ice skate—
Yuuri couldn’t get himself under control even if he tried.
Mari circles around from behind the counter and says to Viktor in English, “I say he will probably cry.”
Viktor chuckles and rubs Yuuri’s bicep. “He can cry,” he says, punctuating the sentiment with a kiss to the side of his head. “I know how to handle it by now.”
Yuuri manages to push a shaking hand over his eyes, mostly drying his lashes as the worst of the wave passes over him. Viktor’s hand sifts into his hair and massages gently behind his ear.
At the top, there are two shelves full of neatly-folded hand towels in various colors; below them, a wide space with keychains dangling; at the bottom, dozens of little plush poodles. All of them in Vicchan’s image.
Struggling to breathe properly, Yuuri wraps both arms around Viktor’s waist and says, “You did this?”
“Mari and I did,” Viktor corrects. He’s moved on from physical comfort to playing with Yuuri’s hair, peppering kisses wherever he can reach when the moment moves him.
“Sorry, Viktor, please wait,” Mari says in English, then in Japanese she tells Yuuri, “It was all his idea. I’ll tell you all about it later.”
Viktor pouts. “Mari-neesan, don’t exclude me.”
She tilts her head, affecting a cool smile for him. “What does it mean?” she asks in English.
Viktor opens his mouth, but Yuuri’s wet laugh cuts him off.
Pleased with herself, Mari hands Yuuri a bag she’s been holding behind her back and says, “You’re the first one to receive them. Now post photos online and get some buzz going. I’ve been waiting months to kick off this campaign.”
Yuuri peeks inside, and the sight of Vicchan’s gleaming dark eyes brings a pinched, pained smile to his face. He nods and says, “I will,” and pretends he isn’t crying again.
Some time later, holding the plush Vicchan in his arms while Mari recounts the whole story in Japanese (with Viktor trying at every turn to keep up and pass credit back to her), Yuuri takes advantage of their good-natured squabbling to touch a kiss to the top of the curly head.
I’m so happy to see you again, he thinks. Thank you for waiting for me.
•☆•☆•☆•
Viktor has never connected to any particular faith. He has little more than passing familiarity with a few, and keen interest in none. He’d never even seen a butsudan before Mari showed him the one maintained in Vicchan’s memory, but he understands the place of importance it has in Yuuri’s heart, so he researches all he needs to know to properly pay his respects.
Long after everyone has fallen asleep, Viktor takes a painstakingly long time to extricate himself from Yuuri’s vice grip. He wraps himself in an extra blanket and pads silently to the shrine housing Vicchan’s spirit.
He kneels on the pillow the way Mari showed him, his heels tucked neatly under him, and puts three bone-shaped biscuits on an empty plate before the shrine. He claps twice and bends his head to pray.
His thoughts go directly to Makkachin, and how she’s been his family and his strength for so many years. Vicchan must have been that for Yuuri, too.
According to Mari, the butsudan is a place where you can communicate with the ones you’ve lost, so Viktor licks his lips and says, “Hello, Vicchan,” in Russian. After all, this little companion was his namesake. “Mari-neesan has told me many stories about you. I hope I’ll hear some from Yuuri someday, too. I’m sure you know he misses you.”
He studies the boy and the puppy in the photograph with a smile.
“Rest easy. I’ll watch over our Yuuri now.”