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Winter Solstice Night
Saint Petersburg, Russia
Much like her Papa, Hana Katsuki-Nikiforova arrived unexpectedly, in a flurry of snow.
A birthday surprise Yuuri is never likely to forget.
Yuuri, remembering that day just a few weeks ago, shivers a little. Because Hana was born well before her due date. Fully formed, clearly a fighter with a healthy set of lungs, but so fearfully tiny it had broken Yuuri’s heart just gazing at her little fist curled around the tip of his finger. He’d been afraid to move lest he accidentally break her. But the doctors and nurses had assured him she was perfectly healthy. A testament to the extra care Yuuri and Victor—especially Victor—had lavished on the surrogate mother who had already offered to carry another for them when they were ready.
Two embryos had been implanted, and at the first ultrasound appointment Victor and Yuuri had held their breaths as the technician searched for and finally found one heartbeat, a busy little swish-swish-swish. Yuuri will always, always treasure the expression on Victor’s face. Joy. Wonder. Abject fear.
Yuuri never told anyone, not even Victor, that for a time he’d silently grieved the embryo that didn’t take. It’s better now, with Hana to focus on, securely warm and safe and here in his arms. He vows to that sweet, sleeping face that she will eventually have a little brother or sister to keep her company. A sibling that will carry both Yuuri’s and Victor’s heritage, thanks to Mari’s generosity.
Yuuri would never have asked, but Mari had offered. Quietly, a little anxiously. As if any world existed where Yuuri and Victor would refuse such a gift.
With Makkachin curled around his feet and snoring gently, Yuuri inexplicably finds his sleep-deprived brain thinking about stars. The night sky over Hasetsu as he and Victor had walked the beach that first summer, soothing skate-sore feet in cool salt water. The mischievous spark in Victor’s eyes as he’d assigned Yuuri the On Love: Eros skate. Hand-held sparklers on the beach. The fireworks behind his own eyelids when they’d made love for the first time. The way the hospital NICU’s lights had blurred into a kaleidoscope when he’d first held Hana. And again when she’d offered up her first gummy smile.
Stars. Galaxies of them. Lighting up a life that, before Victor, had existed in shades of grey.
His butt a little numb from sitting in one spot for so long, Yuuri gingerly shifts in the rocking chair given to them by Yakov and Lilia. It’s an ornate, antique monstrosity fitted out with new, custom cushions on every possible surface, with a matching ottoman. But despite the luxurious comfort, Yuuri’s been antsy all day. Nothing he can put his finger on, but a niggling, nameless worry that won’t leave the back of his mind. His fatherly concern for Hana is always at the forefront, but this…this is different.
“You okay, my love? Need a break?”
Yuuri glances at the couch to find Victor’s head poking up from from layers of blankets and pillows, where he’s been trying to catch a nap after a long, fussy day with Hana. Yuuri wonders, not for the first time, if she’s an overachiever like her Papa, determined to get this teething business out of the way as soon as possible and get on with the next level of food choices.
Food. Yes. There’s plenty of that, with Victor’s penchant for buying three of everything if Yuuri isn’t there to rein him in. Also plenty of breast milk in the freezer, thanks to a local organization that banks it. Plus a few cannisters of formula, just in case. Four kinds. Because…Victor. They should all be snug and well-fed for many days to come.
He smiles at Victor’s sleep-puffy face framed in messy silver hair, grown long and half-falling out of its topknot. “I’m fine,” Yuuri whispers. “Go back to sleep.” Yuuri has never been this happy. Or this tired, not even when he’d been grinding through the height of a grueling competition season. He’s glad he retired earlier this year. He’d been ready for a while before that, but with his body still in decent shape even at 29, and owing Victor one more gold...well. At least Victor had magnanimously allowed Yuuri’s Olympic gold to count as one of the five.
To Yuuri’s embarrassment, Victor had had all five medals artfully framed and displayed prominently in Yu-Topia’s front lobby. Mari delights in teasing Yuuri about groups of tourists making eager pilgrimages, ordering their hero's favorite food and standing in front of the medal shrine, speaking in hushed, almost reverent whispers. I was there when… I saw it on TV when… I pulled my old skates out of storage because of him…
Victor slips out from under the covers and pads over to Yuuri’s chair, bending to kiss the top of his head and peer adoringly at their daughter. Yuuri can practically feel his husband’s impatience for his turn to hold her jumping off his skin.
“It’s almost feeding time. I’ll get a bottle ready.” And Victor’s off to the kitchen, humming softly to himself. A faint click, and the light from the stove casts a dim glow into the living area, enough to see but not enough to bother Hana.
Yuuri glances, brow furrowed, at the balcony’s sliding door, night-black except for the steadily rising snowdrift piling up against the glass. It’s the heaviest snowfall in recent memory, with roads impassable and everything closed or canceled for the next several days. For a city as winter-hardy as Saint Petersburg, this almost never happens.
“It’s warming,” Victor whispers, kneeling by the chair to lean his head on Yuuri’s shoulder and carefully toy with Hana’s surprisingly thick shock of fluffy black hair. Behind her closed, tip-tilted lids are eyes that haven’t yet decided what color they’re going to be. Yuuri fervently hopes they’ll be blue. In any case, Victor has grandly declared she will be the most beautiful child the world has ever seen.
When Yuuri doesn’t immediately answer, Victor chuckles softly. “I can hear the wheels turning in your head, solnyshko. What troubles you?”
Yuuri tries to keep his sigh quiet. “I’m just worried about all this snow. What if Hana gets sick? How will we get her to the hospital?” And why can’t I get this weird feeling out of my head?
“It will be fine, love.” Victor strokes his cheek, turning Yuuri’s face toward him. “She’s healthy. Even if the power goes out, we have the gas fireplace. Nothing bad is going to happen, I promise.” He grins, letting his accent roll thick off his tongue. “Besides, she’s Russian. This snow is nothing for our malyshka.”
Hana performs a slow wiggle in Yuuri’s arms, wrinkling her nose and making little smacking noises with her tiny heart-shaped lips. “Shhh,” Yuuri scolds Victor softly, but smiling. “Our child is not a sled dog.”
Victor brightens, back to twirling Hana’s hair into a single curl on top of her head. “Which reminds me! She’ll need her own dog,” he decides sotto voce. “Let’s start shopping for a puppy tomorrow.”
Yuuri tries not to shake with suppressed laughter, the rising tide of shadows in the back of his mind receding.
“And we'll have a house in the country,” Victor goes on, warming to his subject. “With a pond. Swimming in summer, skating in winter.” Victor looks as if he could eat Hana up with a spoon. “And lots of dogs. All she wants.”
Yuuri turns his head and lightly bumps Victor’s with his chin. “What if she wants a kitten?”
Victor grimaces. “Then a kitten she shall have. It'll just have to learn to get along with dogs.”
Yuuri grins and leans over just enough to nuzzle Victor’s ear. “It’s impractical to live that far from the rink,” he whispers. “We’ll find a house closer to the city. Or an apartment better suited for kids.” One that isn’t fifteen stories off the ground, giving Yuuri nightmares about Hana somehow toddling off the balcony (which is already secure as humanly possible for Makkachin’s sake).
Victor shivers just a little at Yuuri’s breath in his ear, and turns to plant a kiss on his cheek. “The bottle’s probably ready. I’ll go get it, then I can feed her if you want.”
Yuuri tucks Hana’s dream-waving hand back under the swaddling banket. “Just a little longer?”
“Just a little,” Victor agrees reluctantly. “Then I’ll take her and you will rest, yes?”
Yuuri sighs and nods, already missing Hana’s weight in his arms. “Okay.”
-----
Hana finishes her bottle like a champ, sucking it down efficiently without even opening her eyes. Smiling—he does that a lot these days—Yuuri carefully lifts her to his chest and pats her little back. Two contented burps and a quick diaper check later—she’s dry enough for now—he tucks her back in his arms to commence rocking once again, the heat of the fireplace working drowsy magic. Victor’s adoring gaze is an almost tangible thing brushing softly against the side of Yuuri’s face. Despite his promise to hand the baby over after her bottle, he finds himself half-dozing again. Soothed by the smell of baby and the warmth of the fire and Makka on top of his toes. Victor doesn’t push.
He's not sure what time it is when the sound of his phone vibrating on the couch’s end table brings him fully awake. He frowns at it, too far for him to reach.
Victor picks it up and peers at the name on the screen. His eyebrows rise in a way that that raises the volume a notch on the nameless worry lurking in the back of Yuuri’s mind.
“It’s Yuuko,” Victor murmurs. “Do you want me to answer it?”
Yuuri nods, and Victor tiptoes down the short hallway to their bedroom, closing the door behind him.
Yuuri tries to settle back into the zen-like calm he’d almost achieved before the call, but finds himself straining to hear Victor’s voice. It’s the wee hours of the morning in Hasetsu. Why is Yuuko calling now?
Yuuri tenses, all kinds of dire scenarios parading through his head. Is something wrong? Is it one of the triplets? Why can’t he hear Victor’s cheery voice practicing his cringeworthy Japanese on Yuuko’s bleeding ears?
After an interminable silence, Yuuri finally hears Victor talking very softly as he opens the bedroom door and pads back toward him, gaze fixed on Yuuri’s face. “I’ll tell him. No, it’s fine. Take care of your family. Call back when you have any news, no matter what time it is.”
Yuuri knows his eyes are wide as saucers as Victor approaches and crouches next to the rocking chair. Victor’s expression is carefully neutral, but his heart-bow mouth is drawn into a tight line as he takes a moment to visibly arrange the words he’s about to say.
“Yuuri,” he says quietly. “Can I take the baby for a minute?”
Yuuri hitches Hana ever so slightly away from Victor, an infinitesimal twitch that no one but Victor would detect, knowing his body language so well. “I don’t want to wake her. Is something wrong?”
Victor passes one hand down over his face, stopping at his mouth to briefly cover his frown before reaching out to lay it on Yuuri’s upper arm. “Maybe it’s best if you let me have Hana first.”
Yuuri realizes Victor is using a tone identical to the one he uses when Yuuri is mid-panic. He stares down at Hana, then back at Victor, his insides clenching in apprehension. “No. I…I n-need to hold her.” He’s being stubborn. He knows it. But her peacefully sleeping form is grounding him.
Sighing in resignation, Victor settles on his heels and takes Yuuri’s free hand in one of his own, cupping Hana’s fuzzy head with the other. As if he needs contact with the two most precious things in his world.
Yuuri grips Victor’s fingers, his own starting to tremble. “Tell me.”
Victor takes a deep breath. “There was an earthquake off the coast of South Korea, near Busan.”
Yuuri swallows against his suddenly dry mouth. Busan lies just across the narrow strip of sea from Hasetsu. He blinks. “That area hasn’t had a major quake in centuries. I’m not sure there are even any tsunami buoys—oh. Oh god.”
Victor grips his hand harder. “Yuuko said the whole town evacuated, but there was a malfunction in the warning system and the sirens were delayed. They didn’t have much time to get out. The rink and Yuuko’s house are fine, they were high enough, but the onsen…” He shakes his head. He doesn’t have to remind Yuuri how close to sea level the onsen is. “It’s still dark there. They won’t know the full extent of the damage until dawn. If, if there is any,” he finishes earnestly.
In the hollow silence that follows, Yuuri stares into Victor’s sea-blue eyes, then says, very quietly, “Take Hana, please?”
In a second, Yuuri’s lap is empty, and he’s struggling up from the chair he’s been sitting in for far too long. Victor, deftly cradling still-sleeping Hana in the crook of one elbow, slips his free hand under Yuuri’s arm to help extricate him from the pillows and blankets that were wedging him in to the chair.
Once free, half-limping on stiff legs, Yuuri scoops up his phone, which Victor had tossed it on the couch. Fingers shaking, he punches at the screen. “I…I need to…”
“Yuuri.”
He tries to remember who is on which speed dial. Why can’t he fucking remember? “I can’t…” All he can do is sit there and shake, staring at the screen. Willing it to light up with a message, a call. Anything.
“Yuurishka.”
A warm hand on his shoulder, sliding to the back of his neck, pulls him until he’s curled into Victor’s side on the couch, tears soaking Victor’s sweatshirt as he stifles sobs so he won’t wake Hana. “What…what am I…what if…”
Victor’s arm around his shoulders is strong, steady, a stark contrast to his floundering first time Yuuri wept in front of him. “Listen to me, solnyshko. Yuuko said she can’t get through to Mari right now. She was lucky just to get through to us. She’ll contact us somehow as soon as it’s light enough to see anything. She’ll find,” his own throat seems to threaten to close, “Find your family.”
“Our family,” Yuuri whispers fiercely. Against the top of his head, he feels Victor nod.
“Ours.” That arm holds on tight, not letting go. “They’ll be all right. Maybe the surge won’t be that bad. The sea is shallower there, right? Not as much water. It’ll be nothing. Just a ripple. Not even enough for a decent body surf.”
In spite of himself, Yuuri finds a shaky laugh. “Thank you, captain geologist.”
Victor’s warm fingers trace soothing circles on Yuuri’s upper arm. He leans in, lips brushing Yuuri’s hair. “It’s going to be okay. I promise.”
Refraining from retorting that Victor can’t make that kind of promise, Yuuri finally draws a belly-deep breath and lets it out slowly, staring down at the phone clutched in white-knuckled fingers. He makes himself relax his hand. Squeezing it won’t make the news come any faster.
Hana chooses that moment to emphatically, fists-wavingly announce that all this chatter is interrupting her beauty sleep. Victor swoops smoothly to his feet and shifts into walk-the-floor-and-make-cooing-noises mode. For the next twenty or so minutes, Yuuri diverts the downhill flow of his thoughts by assisting with a diaper change that Victor decrees must morph into an entire change of clothes due to the tiniest of leaks that must not cause chafing on their daughter’s tender behind.
For a miniscule scrap of humanity, Hana goes through an astounding number of outfits every single day. As her self-appointed stylist, Victor holds her fascinated attention with his singsong explanation of which pieces of clothing go together, and which definitely do not.
In short order, Hana is decked out in fresh booties, onesie, ice-skate-print blanket sleeper, topped off with a miniature stocking hat sporting a poodle. Makkachin fondly watches the proceedings from her prime spot by the fireplace. Yuuri rolls his eyes as he adds the “soiled” clothes to the hamper that never seems to get any emptier.
Stars.
Yuuri blinks them, flickering in the firelight, away from the corners of his eyes, realizing he’s still standing next to the hamper, Hana’s little onesie in his hands. He stares at it, scenes with his family flashing like shooting stars across his inner vision. Toshiya cheerfully teaching him everything there is to know about the plumbing running under the onsen or building a display cabinet for Yuuri’s trophies. Hiroko placing a bowl of katsudon in front of him after a win. Mari holding his hands and crying with him when he came out to her, the first human soul he’d ever told. He’d already whispered all his secrets into Vicchan’s fluffy ears.
Yuuri buries is face in the onesie and tries to stifle a sob.
Without saying a word, with Hana still in a football hold under one arm, Victor guides Yuuri to the couch, covers him in warm blankets, even brings him a cup of tea. Yuuri cradles it in both hands and manages to sniffle out a laugh.
Victor smiles at him from his well-established, walk-the-floor route. “What?”
“You. Being perfect one-handed.”
Victor shakes his head, unnecessarily adjusting Hana’s blanket. “I’m hardly perfect.”
Before Yuuri can think of what to say to that, Victor is back to busyness as usual, taking Yuuri’s empty cup, urging him to lie down, tucking blankets around him. “I want you to try to sleep a little.”
Yuuri glances anxiously at his phone, and Victor turns his face away from it with gentle fingers on his chin. “I’ll watch for messages. Close your eyes.”
“I…I want Hana.” Yuuri clamps his jaw shut on the next thought racing around his brain like a caged hamster with the zoomies. I want to be holding her when I find out if she’s to be the last of my family.
Kuso, more tears.
Victor perches on the edge of the couch next to him and feathers fingertips through his hair. “You can have her back in a little while. We likely won’t hear anything for a few hours, so try to sleep? Please?” Victor, Yuuri can tell, is trying to deploy his coach voice and failing miserably.
He’s scared, too.
Yuuri leans his cheek into Victor’s caressing hand. “Okay. I’ll try.”
He’s positive he won’t be able to even close his eyes. Until they do.
He dreams of Vicchan.
He does that, on the rare occasions he remembers his dreams. Usually there’s only a blurry impression of curly brown fur, and a wispy, impossible-to-grasp feeling of happiness the little poodle brought him.
This time, when he blinks his eyes open, he automatically raises a hand to his face to wipe off the slobbery kisses he could swear he can still feel. His skin is dry, but bright button eyes and a wagging tail are so sharp in his memory his sleepy brain is sure Vicchan was just here.
All the lights are off except for the fireplace, and Victor has taken up residence in the chair. One leg folded underneath him, the other foot pushing off the floor to keep it rocking, Hana passed out on his broad chest supported by one hand under her diapered butt, the other spread across her back. As Yuuri watches, heart swelling, Victor lightly touches one of her fisted hands, then finds a baby blanket to tuck around her against any possibility of a chill. After adjusting her so she’s cradled securely in his arms, he rests his head on the cushioned back of the chair. After a few minutes, his breathing deepens and evens out, indicating he’s fallen asleep.
Just watching them takes Yuuri’s breath away.
He edges out from under the blankets, finds his phone on the floor next to Victor’s chair, snaps a photo. There’s just enough firelight to cast his beloveds in warm light and shadow, so achingly sweet Yuuri plans to never post it anywhere, just hug it to himself.
There’s no sound of wind and snow slapping against the balcony door, and Yuuri realizes the storm must have finally passed. Fetching a blanket to wrap around his shoulders, he moves silently to the glass pane and looks at the sky. There’s an opening in the clouds, and Yuuri can see a just a few stars. Four, to be exact. Three in a cluster and one bright one just above them, as if protecting the others. Or maybe guiding them.
Stars.
Pressing his forehead against the cold glass, Yuuri finds himself praying. Or, if not exactly praying, asking Vicchan to somehow watch over Toshiya, Hiroko, and Mari. Tomorrow, he will probably roll his eyes and shake his head at himself. But if there is an afterlife, Vicchan will most assuredly be in it. And who’s to say his bright little soul doesn’t visit from time to time?
Yuuri’s overworked what-if complex flashes a newsreel in his brain, of his own hands placing photos of his family next to Vicchan’s on the little butsudan in the corner of the bedroom.
No.
Fiercely Yuuri tries to shake the vision out of his head, but it pursues him across the room and back under the blankets on the couch. Pulling them over his head, he clutches his phone in one hand so he’ll feel it vibrate the moment a message or a call arrives.
It is the longest night of the year.
The longest of Yuuri’s life.
-----
At dawn, Yuuko manages to get a text message through.
Your family is safe. They will call as soon as they can. They send their love.
Yuuri immediately texts back. The message bounces. He tries a call to her phone, then Mari's. Three piercing tones, then a recorded voice advises to “try again later”.
Victor makes Yuuri put the phone down long enough to eat something. Yuuri chews and swallows, never taking his eyes off the phone, tasting nothing.
They spend the day playing with Hana, who seems to have forgotten she’s teething and made it her mission to make them smile. They fend off Makka’s determined efforts to sneak in and cover Hana’s face in kisses, determinedly avoid searching for news on the internet.
Phichit calls. So does Christophe. Lilia and Yakov have food delivered (via snowmobile) from Yuuri’s favorite St. Petersburg restaurant. and Yuuri inwardly cringes at how much that must have cost. Other messages trickle in from skater friends all over the world, emails, texts, and Instagram posts expressing concern and hope, asking fans for prayers. Yura, Mila, and Georgi come and go, bringing pizza, forced cheer, and firm belief all will be well. Yuuri tries to find a smile for them.
As night falls again, Victor finally gives up trying to keep Yuuri’s spirits afloat. They huddle on the couch, stare unseeing at a marathon of old movies on TV, and wait.
-----
It is dark again before Yuuri’s phone lights up with a video call from Mari. The flurry of Japanese that follows is too fast for Victor to follow, but he doesn’t need to translate the tears, smiles, and laughter. He holds Hana up for her grandparents and auntie to see and coo over, manages to get a single “hello” in edgewise, and simply keeps one arm around Yuuri’s shoulders until the call ends, and Yuuri lays his head on Victor’s lap and weeps.
Finally, he sleeps.
Later, in between sips of hot tea and inhaling cold pizza, Yuuri offers a loose translation. “They had just enough time to get into the car and drive up the mountain behind the onsen before the tsunami hit.”
Victor remembers running up that road, falling further and further behind his freakishly strong Yuuri with every step, cursing every hairpin curve and the ever-steepening grade. Listening to his knees crack all the way down. “At night? I think I would have taken my chances at the onsen,” he says wryly.
Yuuri playfully shoves his shoulder into Victor’s and keeps talking. “Mari wanted to stay and sandbag, but ‘tou-san dragged her out. It’s lucky he was already awake when the sirens finally started to work.” Yuuri’s face grows thoughtful and he falls silent.
“Oh?” Victor prompts. “Is that unusual?
“No, not really, but he heard a dog barking somewhere in the building. He thought maybe a stray had found its way in, so he was trying to find it. But…” Yuuri puts his pizza down and covers his mouth with one hand, eyes wide.
“What?” Victor reaches out and touches Yuuri’s shoulder.
Yuuri shakes his head, a blush staining his cheeks, and picks up his tea, studying the cup before taking a sip. “Um. Nothing. As it turns out, you were right. The pine forest along the coast helped divert the worst of it. There was some flooding in the front lobby, but the family residence, the onsen pools, and the kitchen are fine. The Nishigori’s house still has power, so they’re staying there until they get power back at the onsen and they can start cleanup.”
Victor opens his mouth to ask a question, snaps it shut.
Yuuri laughs a genuine laugh for the first time in two days. “The rink still has power, too.”
“I wasn’t going to—”
"Yes, you were." Whatever shadows had clouded Yuuri’s thoughts are gone, and his eyes sparkle with humor.
Victor’s face relaxes into a grin. “I was.”
Keeping Hana’s bouncer going with one hand, Victor hugs Yuuri’s shoulders with the other arm. “As soon as we can, when it’s safe, we’ll book a flight.”
Yuuri coughs against a bite of pizza that’s gone down the wrong pipe, staring at Victor with such a mixture of surprise and hope in his eyes, it makes Victor’s own eyes sting with suppressed tears. “In the middle of the season? How is that going to work with Yura’s competitions? We hadn’t planned to go back to Japan until after World’s and Hana was old enough to make the trip.”
Victor places a shushing finger on Yuuri’s lips. “Yakov already told me he’d come out of retirement to coach Yura the rest of the season, so we can go home. You need to see your family, they need to see you and their granddaughter. Sooner rather than later.”
Yuuri didn’t think he had any tears left in him. He was wrong.
----
Sometime in the night, Hana awakens with a wet diaper. Yuuri slips out of bed to go to her, taking care of it before her snuffling, irritated cries awaken her Papa. Makka, however, crawls out from under the covers and pads in Yuuri’s wake, toenails tapping softly on the hardwood floor. Whispering in soft Japanese, he carries the baby to the kitchen to warm a bottle, then takes a detour to the sliding glass door to check the weather before settling down in the rocker.
The skies have cleared, but city lights block out all but the brightest stars. Weird. Yuuri distinctly remembers seeing a lot more the previous night, when he’d been worrying about his family. Asking Vicchan to watch over them.
Squinting, Yuuri can just barely make out the group of three stars he’d noticed last night when he’d been asking—praying—for a miracle for his family.
But of the brighter star that had hovered above them, there is no trace.
Yuuri blinks at the empty space, a shiver passing through his body from head to toe. When Hana’s tiny fingers grab a fistful of his shirt, he glances down and straight into her eyes, twin wells of perfect calm, perfect grace. Dark as the night sky, reflecting pinpoints of celestial light.
Light that shimmers in a one-of-a-kind shade of blue.
Yuuri tilts his head back, wetness in his eyes capturing and splintering the stars into showers of joyful sparks, dancing in his vision like fireworks on a midnight beach.
Pressing a kiss to Hana’s forehead, her fuzzy hair tickling his nose, Yuuri thanks the stars, especially the bright little one he can no longer see.
Because his heart is certain that after it flung itself out of the sky to save his family, it fell safely into his daughter’s eyes.
Blotting at his wet face with his sleeve, Yuuri tiptoes away from the window, lights the fireplace against the chill in the room, and turns toward the rocker where he intends to rock Hana back to sleep.
Victor is standing beside it with a blanket ready in his hands, and a contented, sleepy smile on his face.
“Everything all right?” his Vitya whispers.
Yuuri smiles back and walks toward the man who holds his heart safe. Already, the world outside their snug, warm haven seems a little less dark than before.
“Everything,” Yuuri answers softly, “is perfect.”