Chapter Text
Yuri Boyka, he had made several generous donations to the church. Whispers said he was a criminal, escaped convict, murder. A dangerous man trying to buy his way into heaven. You didn't care for the whispers of simple sheep. The truth was he was the newest piece of gossip for the choir to pass back and forth. You didn't feel as relieved as you thought you would have to no longer be what they ran their mouths about when they thought you weren't around. You had been the congregation's previous black sheep, a stranger from a different land, blessed with the voice made to sing hymns and praises to the heavens. You had started coming to this church twice weekly with your elderly neighbor and landlady to make sure she got there and home again safely until her car was repaired. One day there was no organist, your neighbor had encouraged you to fill in knowing of your musical talents. Long story short, the car was still in the shop and you now sang in the choir and played the piano or organ as best you could when they needed someone to fill in, which happened a lot.
You called her a crafty old gypsy, that made her laugh, but she paid tithing for the both of you so you were accepted as an official member of the congregation despite your mild protests and lack of confirmation. You would have resisted with real effort if she wasn't so happy with the results of her scheme. She helped you practice and your rent was low so you hadn't anything to really complain about. You were staying out of trouble, saving money all while helping an old woman enjoy her golden years a little bit more. The idol gossip had been annoying but when wasn't it? Once in a while you heard a story that was truly amusing. Nothing like what was said about Yuri Boyka. It made your eyes find him when singing. They never held your gaze long, he would bow his head in reverence or look to the altar and crucifix, but his rich brown eyes weren't intimidated or nervous, they were respectful and perhaps a bit leery.
One day you crossed paths with Yuri Boyka when he was in his other house of worship, a fighting gym.
You supposed it only made sense that his eyes were much sharper in the environment that you were both now sharing. Candles and stained glass traded in for fluorescent lights. The scent or incense and leather bound books gone, the smell of sweat and whatever industrial cleaner besides bleach that is in the mop buckets and drying off the mats and padded floor that were just washed. You felt his eyes on you as soon as you entered the main floor
“Ви заблукали, пані?” Boyka asked you if you were lost before you saw your neighbor’s nephew and reason for being at the gym.
“No -er, hі я знаю, де я, і я тут навмисно.” He looks genuinely surprised to hear you speak.
“You are American? I never would have guessed.” You forced a smile as you replied
“What can I say, I have a much better singing voice, and I'm Canadian.” You raised your hand to stop him from speaking when a smirk played at the corner of his mouth. “And if you say- same thing, I will gladly demonstrate to you the difference between nice and polite, okay?” It was at that moment that Nikko, your neighbor's nephew, showed his dumb face.
“ Apologies Boyka, she meant nothing by it. Some of the boys have been rude, pretty fiery Americans and they run their mouths.”
“Ah! Canadian! And I handled them fine!-” You exclaimed to interrupt the young man you hoped your neighbor had no intention of setting you up with. “-I'm sorry to break it to you, but I speak four fucking languages passably, I don't need my words explained to a man I've known longer than I've known you.” The young man looked between you and Boyka
“You know-”
“Yuri Boyka is my brother in Christ. We go to the same church.” Your neighbor's nephew looked skeptical but nodded. After a heavy silence between the two men Boyka asked Nikko-
“Who was being disrespectful, I would have words with them.” You stepped between the two men.
"I said I handled it.” Boyka looked at you like you were a hissing kitten facing a tiger. Amusement and mirth softened his typically hard eyes. “Thank you for your concern, and have a nice day. Nikko, your chariot awaits you.”
“Chariot?” Nikko asked
“Колісниця.” You clarified
The next time you crossed paths with Boyka he repeated a facsimile of your words back to you.
“Sister in Christ?” He teasingly asked, holding the door for you and your neighbor, who stumbled slightly as she passed him. He immediately caught her around her waist and at her elbow to help steady her. She caught on to his arm and would not let go, asking him to walk her to her usual seat, she then insisted on him sitting with you for the small service. You couldn't help thinking she’d caught him hook, line, and sinker. Several classic musical songs came to your mind at her latest exploits. Match maker from Fiddler on the Roof and another from No Business like Show Business. That one you sang once the service was over and you were heading to your little VW Bug parked on the street.
“A man chases a girl until she catches him. He runs after a girl until he's caught. He fishes for a girl until she's landed him, it all turns out exactly the way she thought…” Boyka looked slightly puzzled. So you clarified. “In other words, her cane is more of a fashion statement and weapon than a walking aid. Be careful, my brother in Christ, I'm a lost cause but you might still be able to get away.” Clearly understanding more English than she let on, or perhaps annoyed by you speaking only in English, she tripped you with her cane. Then scolded you and called you clumsy. Boyka looked murderously mad for a split second, like he's thinking about saying something hateful to the old woman, until you started laughing and called her a witch
“відьма! Бойку, спробуй не бути такою серйозною. Honestly! What enjoyment is left for the old hag other than to mess with young people's lives. Yes, yes! It is rude to speak in a language not understood by everyone. Should I bend over so you can wind up?” You cocked your hip out and slapped your own ass. Your neighbor pinched your cheek, smacked the back of your head not so gently, then poked your car door with her cane while she waited for you to open it and help her inside. Boyka's anger was fading as he caught on to the playful nature of your relationship but was still a little surprised. Western ways of doing things were very different, brash. You both acted reverent and modestly when inside the church, he had never seen any sign of disrespect much less play fighting or trading insults. But then again, he hasn't seen much of you outside of church, and he finds the idea of learning more about you intriguing. Not enough to actively do something about it, besides to watch and listen closer. He has an all consuming mission, you are a distraction from it, if he lets you be. If something like friendship or a personal connection is going to grow between you, it will happen because of his mission- to be the most complete fighter the world has ever seen, not in spite of it. That's what Boyka tells himself.