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At eighteen, Lilia had been quite pleased not to have a soulmate, or so she told everyone. There was nothing to distract her from her ballet, or her dedication to becoming one of the Soviet Union’s cultural icons. Other dancers envied her for how easily she could forget her dream and focus on her art. Her mentors and producers were thrilled to know that Lilia would not cause a scandal or need to be sidelined or encouraged to leave the ballet.
Lilia was glad not to have to leave the ballet, of course, but very deep down inside, she was crushed by not having a soulmate. Of course the benefits were nice, and it was likely to help her achieve her goal of making prima ballerina, but… one day, she would no longer be able to keep up. At some point, likely in her thirties but possibly earlier if injuries or stress caught her, she would transition into a backstage role, and at that point, the loneliness would hurt. Or worse, she would be encouraged to marry some man who didn’t have a soulmate or had a soulmate to hide but the Soviet Union believed could serve them by creating children. Lilia wouldn’t call it forced to marry, but that’s how it felt any time she thought about it.
A few months before her twentieth birthday, things changed for her. She reported to her director first thing in the morning. “I have a soulmate.”
“A newborn soulmate?” It was exceedingly rare, but it did happen that soulmates were more than eighteen years apart and the older one’s dream would have to be delayed. “What’s his name?”
“Her name is Okukawa Minako. I believe that’s Japanese, but other than that, there wasn’t much I could learn about her. I have no intention of doing anything about it, but I thought you should know.” Mostly because if Minako showed up when she turned eighteen to look for her, Lilia could be in serious trouble for hiding her soulmate. By then, Lilia would likely be retired from the stage or close to it. There was no predicting what Minako would do, of course. She might not bother to come.
When Minako showed up in Moscow, it wasn’t for Lilia. At least, it wasn’t just for Lilia, which was a good thing. Lilia had retired from performing, but was still working with the Bolshoi as a choreographer and tutor, helping to organize performances and teach dancers to play roles.
She was also married, and had a young daughter at home. Yakov was a good man, and Lilia respected him. She didn’t believe that what she felt for him was love, though. Of course, she was hardly the love of Yakov’s life either. That honor went to his best friend from his youth, who he’d had to distance himself from when they discovered they were soulmates. It was a match made for the sake of the child they had produced, not for love. Lilia told herself that she was happy with her life, that she had no right to ask for more.
Shortly after arriving, the company’s manager sent Minako to talk to Lilia. “Is me being here going to be a problem for you, Madame Baranovskaya?”
“That will depend on you. I have enough clout to survive the scandal if I were to leave Yakov for you, but I would not be able to do anything for you, and you would be hated. Only a very few people here know that you’re my soulmate, and I think it’s best for things to remain that way.”
Minako nodded. “I wasn’t going to say anything at all, but the manager insisted that we should talk and make that decision together. I never wanted a soulmate. Dance is my soulmate. I haven’t told anyone about you, aside from my parents. I have no problem with ignoring this.”
Lilia had intended to keep her relationship with Minako strictly professional, no different from her relationship with any of the soloists, but the manager had other ideas. Minako was frequently sent to Lilia to learn roles, or for assistance in other ways. When Minako was sent to her when she was having trouble with one of the first soloists, Ksenia, Lilia had to ask. “Why are you doing this?”
“Because when Minako leaves the Bolshoi, I think you should go with her.” Olga held up a hand as Lilia started to protest. “I will be very sorry to lose you, Lilia, this is not a comment on the quality of your work. You will be difficult to replace. The two of you are soulmates. I know the official position of such a thing, but I don’t agree with it, and for you in particular I think the policy is wrong.”
Lilia blinked. She had never dreamed of someone being willing to say openly that the soulmate policy was wrong. “Why me in particular?”
Olga reached out and took both of Lilia’s hands, giving them a squeeze. “You’ve never once complained, but I’ve seen it since you first came to the Bolshoi. You want to be loved. There’s no shame in that, Lilia, and if the two of you get out of here, there’s no reason not to let yourself have it. If that has to wait until Minako retires, then it has to wait, but one way or another, she will leave us at some point. Go with her.”
From then on, Lilia didn’t hesitate to use her sway to help Minako out. That just made it worse with Ksenia, but Minako quickly rose from soloist to first soloist, and then lead soloist. There, she stalled. No matter what Lilia said or did, no matter how well Minako performed in the auditions, she was never promoted to principal dancer. Eventually, Minako went back to Olga. “Explain.”
Olga sighed and sank down in her chair, turning slightly away from Lilia. “She deserves it, Lilia. You and I both know that, and I’m sure she does too, as does every dancer who’s been promoted instead of her the past three years. Unfortunately, the exact wrong people do not. I’m already receiving ‘concern’ for her being a lead soloist. If I promote her to principal, I will be fired and replaced with someone who will ‘keep her in her place.’”
That’s what Lilia had expected to hear. She couldn’t blame Olga, but she also couldn’t remain here and condone it. She reached into her bag for the folded piece of paper she’d put there before coming. “With Avrora gone for ballet, Yakov wants to be in Saint Petersburg full-time, and I intend to go with him. Please accept my resignation from the Bolshoi.”
Olga took the letter and set it on her desk. “Going with Yakov? Not with Minako? I assume you’ll tell her what I told you, and if I were her, I’d leave for a company that would give me my due.”
“Minako plans to return home to Japan. She still has a good deal of time left to dance, and I don’t want to interfere with her career.”
“Lilia…”
“I am loved, Olga. I’m no child, dreaming of my fairy tale happily-ever-after. Yakov is a good man, he loves me, and I’m sure I can find work in Saint Petersburg. There’s no need to throw away the good things with the bad.”
Every day in Saint Petersburg, Lilia grew less content with the life she’d chosen to settle for. While she was teaching ballet students, or even working with Yakov’s skaters, she could focus on the dance and keep herself busy, but outside of the studio things just kept getting worse. Yakov was gone so much, on scouting trips or for competitions. Even when he was home, his mind was always on the ice or with his skaters. Most of them were quite the handful. When Irina retired and returned to Moscow, Lilia thought it might get better – she was easily the biggest handful of the lot.
If anything, things got worse. She’d kept up a correspondence with Minako, who was thinking of retiring from performing. Lilia was sympathetic to her wish to get out of the drama and politics and pressure of the ballet world, returning home to Hasetsu where her best friend’s children were getting older. On visits home, tiny Yuuri followed her around, copying her moves as best he could given his age. It was good, and Minako thought he might be able to follow in her footsteps.
When the letter came that Minako was doing it, retiring from performance to go home, it included an invitation. The idea of living in a small town, so different from everything she’d known since leaving home at six, was frightening – but at the same time, it held appeal. Yakov would probably miss her somewhat, but really, what was there to tie her to Saint Petersburg, or even Moscow? Going to Olga for advice wasn’t possible, as she’d died the year before, but Lilia didn’t need to. She could hear Olga telling her to go be with Minako.
As expected, Yakov didn’t take it well, but he didn’t try to fight it, either. Minako met her at the airport in Fukuoka, a young boy in tow. “This is Yuuri. He insisted on coming with me to be sure I was safe. Mari wanted to come, but she had school, so Yuuri said he would come for her.”
Lilia smiled and knelt to look at Yuuri. He was adorable, staring back at her curiously. “Hello, Yuuri. It’s good to know that Minako has such a good protector here.” Yuuri didn’t answer, ducking behind Minako’s leg, and Lilia got back up. “It’s good to see you again, Minako. Time has treated you well.”
“You as well. Come on, let’s get to Hasetsu. I hope you’ll come to love it, despite how different it is from what you’re used to.” Lilia was sure she would.
Settling in was a bumpy process, but even on bad days, Lilia never regretted going to Japan. Minako had taught her the language while in Russia, which helped a great deal. Contrary to her fears, Lilia found she enjoyed the quiet life with its slower pace and lack of pressure. Now that they were allowing themselves to, it didn’t take long for Lilia and Minako to fall in love properly.
Minako’s instincts about Yuuri had been right. He was highly talented at ballet, although something about the fit didn’t quite feel right to Lilia. He was also a brilliant skater, and while Lilia was hardly Yakov, she could help Nishigori teach him to compete.
She probably should have seen it coming the day Yuuri chose skating over ballet once and for all. They were watching Junior Worlds, and the little Vitya Lilia remembered had grown into quite the beautiful young man – although she had to wonder what on earth had possessed Yakov to approve that costume. Everything Lilia told him from letters from Yakov only made Yuuri more determined to meet Viktor on the ice one day.
The phone call on December 25th didn’t surprise Lilia one bit. It was the first time Yakov had actually called her instead of sending letters or email, but she wasn’t surprised this was what got him to call. “When can I expect to see Vitya again?”
“If I can talk him into coming back to Saint Petersburg first, the 29th. How did you know?”
“I was guessing. Yuuri’s already obsessed with him, as a fan, and I thought this might happen. You should come, too. I know you normally only take Russian skaters, but if you would consider making an exception, I think Yuuri deserves it.”
“I won’t make any promises on taking him, but I’m coming to scout. If I don’t end up taking Yuuri, I will probably lose Viktor to whoever Yuuri ends up skating for. I don’t know if you consider waiting so long to go to Minako a mistake, but I took far too long to go to Kolya.”
Lilia thought back. “No, I don’t think it was a mistake, exactly, but I was right to leave when I did. Waiting longer would have been a mistake.”
“Even under the old Soviet regime, Viktor would have gone – maybe not immediately, given Yuuri’s age, but at whatever point Yuuri asked him to.”
“I think the age difference is a good part of why I don’t feel like waiting as long as Minako and I did was a mistake. I’m glad Viktor will never be put in the position of having to choose between his career and his soulmate.”