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Yakov hasn't even finished making all the proper arrangements yet for his change to coaching when his first student shows up, literally, on his doorstep. The knock on the door wakes him up early after a long night, and between that and the shock, it's hard to process what she's saying at first.
"I am having artistic differences with my coach," she is saying. "I also need better technical skills to be competitive, and I believe that you would be capable of helping me achieve them." She peers at him as though she isn't sure she's being heard.
But he hears her; it's just that this is Lilia Baranovskaya, one of the top female skaters of the USSR, in front of him. Of course he knows her, though they've never had a proper conversation. She's beautiful and moves beautifully, her extensive ballet training obvious in every program.
"I haven't finished the paperwork," he says.
"I don't care."
He invites her in for coffee, because he's going to need some for this conversation.
She tells him that she's always admired his own ballet influences (that's a first to hear). She tells him about her own weak points and strong points, each stated in the same tone, how she wants to decide her own choreography, what she wants him to teach her.
"I've only just taken up coaching," he tells her.
"So you have a lot to learn. And so you haven't learned so many false notions about what I am capable of."
Bringing Lilia to the rink with him the next day does more than raise eyebrows. Yakov's old coach, who intends for him to be teaching children for the next year, stares at them the whole time they're on the ice. Between that and Lilia's intense gaze, he feels incredibly conscious of every word he says.
Lilia's figures are even. Her spins are wonderful, and she has spirals to die for. Her jumps – they look pretty enough, except in the details, which rob her of height and time to turn. She's not getting as much power as she could be from her stroking. Everything is as she said. She's a wonderful skater, she just needs – more.
Yakov decides to start with stroking, because that seems like a good (and relatively safe) place to start. They spend the entire ice session on that alone. Lilia doesn't complain, or even look bored; she's focused the whole time. Yakov is already putting together other changes for her in his mind. Let her choose the music and the choreography; he wants to give her the scaffolding that will show it off.
How could he want anything else, with those eyes on him?
~!~
Nikolai is good as an early student of Yakov's, except for the fact that he is unrepresentative of most of the ones who follow.
He is kind. Not the hardest worker, but he doesn't slack off, either. Not the most talented, but he has his triples. Attached to his girlfriend – a tiny, delicate ballet dancer who tries to see him at domestic competitions – but doesn't bring his love life or much personal drama to the rink. The only real quirk he has is that he deals with the nerves of upcoming competitions by cooking, so in the run-up, there are always plenty of pirozhki and baked goods to share in the group. They never go hungry on planes, either.
Yakov can see disappointment in Nikolai's eyes when he finishes fourth at Euros this year. A fourth that comes from a good set of performances, but fourth is not a medal, and medals are what count. He is on the older side, now, and he doesn't have a history of results that will keep the federation's support and attention on him; any chance of medals is probably only going to go down. But Nikolai doesn't show it, too much, just congratulates the winners, cheers on his female rink mates during their free skate, and takes the disappointment home with him to work off of.
Yakov doesn't believe in propping people up out of sentiment. But he doesn't believe in giving up on his students, either. They re-evaluate, re-work, train.
To everyone's surprise (except, perhaps, Yakov's), he earns a bronze medal at Worlds, having skated steadily through his programs and figures, no mistakes where others fell. That's one of his strengths; despite his pre-competition nerves, he can usually deliver a consistent set of programs, if not always the riskiest or most beautiful ones.
Afterward, Nikolai turns his lovely medal over in his palm, and says, "Maybe I should retire at this high point."
Yakov agrees to it, after some discussion. Nikolai makes one last batch of pirozhki for everyone, and his fond rink mates buy him dinner and drinks as a celebration. He moves on from skating to something else, but he keeps in touch. There's the occasional phone call and dinner when he and his wife are back in St. Petersburg from Moscow, and Yakov calls on him once or twice himself.
Then one day, decades later, Yakov is sitting at home trying to relax after wrangling students who are not half as easygoing as Nikolai was, when he gets another call. This one is different, though. "I don't want to oversell him," Nikolai says, slowly, "but Coach, please come and see him. My Yurochka – my grandson. Come see how he skates."
Nikolai is asking for a favor. But he isn't blind. Yakov doesn't think he's asking only because this Yuri is so beloved to him. Nikolai knows skating, so he finds his schedule and starts looking for a free couple of days.
~!~
Yakov drops to the couch as soon as he comes home and covers his eyes with one arm. Today, like the past few days, has left him with a throbbing headache. At least tomorrow is a day off, and he won't have to deal with the cause of it.
"I don't like him," Victor declares, plopping down in the chair next to the couch.
"Yes, Vitya, I had figured."
Yakov's newest prospective student – a boy from Canada named JJ, an unusual arrangement – is talented, yes. Extroverted, fine. Managing to slowly drive everyone crazy only a week in, also yes. Victor and even Georgi have gone from holding conversations in English around him to only using it when they have to speak to him directly. Victor, actually, has managed to act like he isn't seeing JJ at all for three days now, though at least Georgi is still trying, and Mila is being marginally polite. Yuri has been hissing at him since the moment they met, but JJ doesn't seem to be taking it personally. Yuri hisses at a lot of people.
It's rude of all of them. But there is something grating about JJ. His voice is too loud, and he tries too hard to be friends with them. Yakov doesn't care if he wants to do things 'JJ style' – he's been coaching Georgi and Victor for years, after all, he can put up with whatever creative decisions JJ wants to make – but the personality conflict may be an issue.
It's too bad, because he does have the jumps, and the ability to perform between them. Yakov's seen him skate, and he can get a crowd going.
Maybe he's just lonely and homesick and trying to overcompensate. He's left several siblings behind, and his parents who have to care for them, in addition to all his friends. He's in a place where everything is different, from the food to the language. It would make sense if he needs time to adjust.
"Are you going to send him back to America?"
"Canada." As if JJ doesn't wear the flag all over his clothes. "And no. Not yet." Yakov can give him more time. See if his ego will curb after watching Victor skate more beautiful programs right in front of him before declaring them not good enough, if he'll pick up how to act better and settle into Russia.
He's skeptical it'll work out at the moment, but Yakov has seen what students can do given enough of a chance.
(But if this keeps up for much longer, he's going to have to make that phone call to his parents. Not everyone works out with every coach.)
~!~
Victor gulps water down; Yakov's been working him hard today, and he's rising well to the challenge. "Yakov," he says, still panting, "I heard one of the kids from the camp is staying with us."
"Yes. The blond one from Switzerland – he's about your age." Fourteen to Victor's sixteen, chubby-cheeked, sweet, jumps lutzes like he's going for a quad instead of a triple.
"Chris?" Victor lights up. "I was talking to him the other day when he got lost! He speaks French and he blushes but he's not shy and Yakov, he's so cute, he like a doll or – or like Heidi but a boy—"
"I'm glad you're getting along already," says Yakov, cutting him off before he can spout off more ridiculous comparisons.
Chris does look like a stereotype, aside from his tan, with his big eyes and his golden curls. But more importantly, he's already been on the junior podium with Victor several times, bronze to Victor's golds. His coaching isn't bad, and his packaging is doing him favors, but if he thinks Yakov can help him get better, they can give it a try. He seems a bit put off by the yelling so far, so Yakov has been trying to tone it down for him.
When the camp is over and Chris becomes part of his group proper, it's encouraging to see him smiling at Georgi and the older students. Victor takes a shine to him for whatever reason, whether it's the cuteness or the curls. Yakov hopes it will be good for both of them – Victor's spins are more than adequate but not great, while Chris spins like a top, and Chris has solid basic jump technique, but could stand to pick some things up from Victor to prepare him for quads in the future. Yakov's students may be competing, but as much as possible, he does try to foster an attitude of supporting each other even as they push each other.
Yakov's first instinct is to give him classical music to go with his appearance. But Chris seems to take more to modern dance than ballet, though he's clearly trained in multiple forms of dance. The music Yakov settles on isn't especially to his taste, but it's fast and more suited to Chris's style, and Chris seems to like it.
He could use some more projection. More energy. Things to work on. Being used to the programs will help. Yakov makes the spins center of attention, making sure the choreographer cuts the music to highlight them, and between his speed and the interesting positions he can hit, the effect is gorgeous. Maybe he should ask who taught him to spin like that, or if it's something in the water in Switzerland, Chris following up a string of other marvelous Swiss spinners.
Watching Victor clap along as Chris skates a run-through of his new program, Yakov wonders if the fondness will stay if Chris starts coming for his golds in earnest. Besides it being nice for the group dynamics, it might be beneficial for Victor if he could make friends with someone other than his dog, for once.
~!~
Otabek is surprisingly competent. Which doesn't mean he is, actually, all that good, compared to some of the Russian children Yakov has seen.
But the Russian children have more ice time, better coaches, better skates, and their parents make them take ballet whether they like it or not. Kazakhstan does not have the coaches or ice time, and Otabek's skates are clean and very new in a way that suggests they were a special purchase for the training camp, and he takes to ballet like a duck to oil.
But his skating is more than satisfactory, considering. Yakov wonders what his level would be with all the resources he needs, and Kazakhstan isn't so far, and he speaks Russian. Funding might be an issue, but maybe they can work it out.
So he takes Otabek into his group. He's a hard worker, even if the ballet isn't working that well for him. He's always serious in applying himself, and he watches little Yuri a lot with those dark, somber eyes of his. Not with jealousy, so Yakov doesn't bring it up.
It results in a scuffle one day, a fight just off the ice, because Yuri does eventually notice. Somehow it resolves itself before Yakov can finish making his way around the rink to break it up. After that, Yakov sees them eating together and hanging out at the boards, Otabek who keeps to himself and Yuri who is too high-strung to make friends with the other children.
Yakov doesn't let Otabek stop taking ballet, but after a few months reveal that no, it's not going to start coming naturally to him, he puts him in other dance classes as well in hope that something sticks, and they try a few different programs. Otabek does better with choreography that relies on power rather than grace, and he throws himself into dramatic music almost as well as Georgi does. They can wait until his tech is at a better level to expand his expressive range, Yakov thinks. Best to work with his strengths for now.
He's not going to be taking home gold at Junior Worlds. Maybe he won't even podium. Not yet. But with time... he has talent. Yakov can see it in him, in how much progress he's made over a single summer. He simply needs resources to help him express it. Anyone can get far with enough coaching; nobody can reach the top without sheer practice hours, no matter how much talent they have.
Otabek finishes a run-through of his short program. His jumps are high, but his movements are janky. If Lilia were still here, she would be clicking her tongue in displeasure. "We need to work on refining your movements when you're off the ice," Yakov says. "Your arms are there to express, not to flail around like broken machinery. Your jumps are looking better, though I want less effort in the combination. We've talked about this." Otabek nods. Yakov gives him some more corrections, not so many as to overwhelm him, then says, "Run through it again."
Otabek nods once more. He reaches for his water bottle and takes a drink. Then he skates out, dodging around Yuri (he never looks where he's going, so Yakov shouts at him). When the music starts, he skates, dances. It's not ballet, but it will be something.