Chapter Text
First Class flights are so worth it.
That was Yuuri’s first thought as he settled into the sofa-turned-bed of the first-class cabin. It’s been an hour since he boarded the plane from Munich to Tokyo, and so far, no complaints at all. A cheesy old rom-com was playing on the massive flatscreen TV in front of him, engulfing the cabin in a comforting glow.
To his right, a mop of silver hair settles on his shoulder, watching the movie with rapt interest. Victor let out a small chuckle directed towards the main character fumbling around the main lead, making Yuuri look at the man.
“Этот фильм реально такой смешной?” (Is the movie that funny?) Yuuri murmured in softly-accented Russian to his husband. Victor inclined his head to gaze at Yuuri, eyes upturned, crow’s feet prominent from his smiles. “Так тупо, что даже смешно.” (It’s so stupid that it’s funny.) He replied.
“Это не смешно — это просто тупо.” (It’s not funny—it’s just stupid.) Yuri deadpanned, his blonde head resting on Yuuri’s left shoulder. He looped an arm around the Japanese man, squeezing it tightly. “Victor’s turning 45, and it shows; he likes boring movies now.”
“Hey! I just turned 44 less than 2 months ago!” Victor whisper-shouted in English indignantly, his cerulean eyes formerly glued to the screen now playfully glaring at Yuri. The latter snorted, looking like the cat that got the cream.
“Victor… That’s what old people say.”
“Why, you little…”
Yuuri sighed fondly, smacking the back of their head, enough to make them stop, but not enough for it to sting. “Enough about Victor’s age…” he chided.
Yuri swatted the Japanese’s hand away, poking his cheek accusingly. “You can’t be talking—you just turned 40!” He argued, causing Yuuri to raise an eyebrow.
He poked Yuri’s cheek back. “And you’re 31. You participated in Alpes 2030 and are already retired.” The blonde man choked on air before surrendering with two hands in the air. “Okay, Mom, you win.” He muttered sarcastically. Yuuri smirked, flipping his long hair in a show of drama.
The trio had just participated in the 2030 Winter Olympics in the French Alps. Retired figure skaters (and husbands) Yuuri and Victor Katsuki-Nikiforov were there as coaches and choreographers for a few athletes, one of them being The Ice Tiger, Yuri Plisetsky, who went home with Olympic Gold at age 31. Frankly, Yuri's satisfied with his career. His coaches-turned-parents feel the same, if not more proud.
The blonde-haired Russian never expected to skate until his 30s. Still, thanks to Yuuri’s insistence that he take care of his body and his flexibility, he managed to dominate the figure skating world for nearly two decades. Now, he’s decided to join the two in coaching future figure skating athletes and prodigies.
Not after a short break, of course.
“Once we get to Hasetsu, what will we do?” Yuri asked his counterpart, who might as well be his adoptive father. The said man paused to think before answering, “A family reunion, of course. I know you’re excited to travel, Yurasha, but your body needs the rest it deserves. Hence, we'll visit the onsen first.”
Yuri considered this carefully, nodding in approval. “Okay. My legs are sore after all that happened… Soaking in the onsen doesn't sound half-bad.”
“Ehh? Yurio, isn't that what old people tend to say?” Victor chimed in, smile lines evident in his smirk.
“D-Don't you dare turn that around on me, old man!” Yuri exclaimed, his hackles raised.
Yuuri looked at the two Russians with an exasperated expression. Even after all these years, these two (rather idiotic) children won't stop bickering with each other. Is this how Yakov felt back then?
Victor had been with Yakov the longest. The silver-haired Russian was the primary source of Yakov's lack of hair—then again, he was also the one who brought home most of the medals. Yakov put up with Victor because of his raw natural talent. He was known as Victor Nikiforov, Figure Skating's Living Legend. He's a four-time World Champion, winning consecutive Golds in nearly every competition he joined—until Yuuri Katsuki, Japan's Ace, Figure Skating's Ice Fractal.
The 2014–15 season saw a historic comeback in the form of Yuuri’s short program and free skate, thanks to Victor taking up the role of coach (and later, fiancé). He brought out a different side to himself (through Eros) and told the story of his skating career (through Yuri on Ice). He cemented his status as an important figure in the realm of skating, bringing a rare blend of technicality and artistry that many skaters and fans came to love. Other than that, his success story inspired many, as well as his open queer marriage to another famous athlete.
Having retired after the 2021–22 season, Yuuri is now a well-renowned coach and choreographer, known for his boundless creativity and considerate work ethic.
But now … Yuuri is currently posing as an overworked and underpaid caretaker, babysitting two immature Russian men who just so happened to be his adoptive son and husband. Straightening his back, Yuuri steeled his voice into something stern and eerily similar to how retired Prima Ballerina Lilia Baranovskaya would speak. He observed that adopting her mannerisms evoked a fearful instinct in both Yuri and Victor, who had been formerly trained by her.
“Hey.” The two men stiffened, slowly glancing back at Yuuri, sheepish expressions plastered on their faces.
“I think we should sleep now,” Yuuri said while tucking a stray strand of hair into the back of his ear, his voice quiet and laced with a hint of finality.
“O-Of course Любимый! (my love!)”
“...Yes, sir.” Yuri pawed through the covers for the remote and shut off the TV, while Victor fluffed up the pillows and lay down, humming contentedly.
“I’m surprised this bed meant for two passengers managed to fit three full-grown men…” Yuuri muttered, lying flat on his back, extending an arm to beckon his counterpart closer, earning an annoyed huff from him. Yuri took said arm, settling his head on it, turning the Japanese’s soft bicep into a makeshift pillow. The hand from the said arm made its home on Yuri’s hair, caressing the blonde locks with a gentleness akin to a mother lulling her child to sleep.
The man on Yuuri’s right side slipped an arm across his soft waist, squeezing it tightly. Yuuri caught Victor’s hand with his own, interlocking them together. The two of them sighed in satisfaction.
A few moments pass, comfortable silence filling in the gaps. Then, suddenly, Yuuri piped up against the quiet atmosphere,
「ユラシャ、あなたのことをとても誇りに思っているよ。」 (I’m so proud of you, Yurasha.) He murmured in Japanese. There was a building pressure behind his eyes, a sure indicator of his tears about to fall.
He was just so … happy with how everything in his life turned out. If he told post-GPF Sochi 2012 Yuuri about the life he had now, he’d vehemently deny that possibility. But … everything he’s experiencing now is all real—and he wouldn’t trade it for the world.
He has a respectful and supportive fanbase, a close set of friends, a loyal family in Hasetsu, a son in the form of Yurio, and a loving and dedicated husband in Victor.
Yuuri feels so blessed to have these people with him.
「うん。色々とありがとね、勇利。ヴィクトル。」 (...Un. Thanks for everything, Yuuri. Victor,) Yuri replied in accented Japanese, his own voice wobbly with emotion.
“Don’t make me cry, you two. Crying yourself to sleep makes your eyes swollen, you know!” Victor chimed in, chuckling wetly. He hid his face in the crook of Yuuri’s neck, earning a burst of giggles from the latter.
“Of course, that’s what you’d worry about, idiot Victor!” Yuuri tittered, making the man to his left scoff with a fondness he won’t admit. He let his happy tears fall; he’ll deal with his puffy eyes when he wakes up from his slumber.
The three of them lapsed into amicable silence once more before Yuuri broke it for the last time, “...Good night, you two,” He murmured, sleep heavy in his voice.
⩇⩇:⩇⩇⩇⩇:⩇⩇
“...-chan. Yuu-chan! Yuuri!” A gentle hand shook Yuuri awake.
「起きて、飛行機はもうすぐ着陸するよ！」 (Wake up, the plane’s about to land!) Someone with a rather feminine voice said to his left. Yuri? Since when did he sound so high-pitched?
「起きた、起きてるよ！」 (I’m awake, I’m awake!) Yuuri replied drowsily.
.
.
…Wait.
Why is his voice so … small? So childlike?
He tried to sit up; he was lying down after all.
But he just fell forward and almost hit his head somewhere, only to be blocked by another hand. It felt soft yet calloused—a woman’s hand.
“What the—Yuuri, what are you doing?! You could’ve hit your head! Here, I’ll help you put your seatbelt on,” the same woman chided.
…Why was her voice so familiar?
Blearily forcing his eyes open, Yuuri gingerly peeked at the woman to his left, expecting a head of blonde hair and green eyes—only to be greeted by…
“M-M-Minako-sensei?!” Yuuri’s brown eyes widened to the size of saucers, his spine straightening in alarm. Minako Okukawa, Yuuri’s ballet teacher, was residing in Hasetsu! He had just left Munich for Tokyo—he’s nowhere close to where Minako-sensei lives!
“Why … Why are you here, sensei?” He stammered out, still bewildered at the high sound of his voice. It was Minako’s turn to look surprised. She frowned at Yuuri, yet no wrinkles appeared on her youthful face. What the...
“What? Yuuri, did you have a nightmare? I’m here to take you to Osaka, silly! For your 5th birthday?” She paused to gaze at Yuuri’s dumbstruck expression.
“Hey … Are you okay? Are you coming down with something?” Minako brought a (smooth, unwrinkled) hand to Yuuri’s forehead, checking for a fever. Yuuri wanted to reply, but he couldn’t find the words.
Flying on a plane with Minako-sensei … to Osaka … for Yuuri’s 5th birthday...
.
.
After a prolonged lapse of silence, Yuuri finally found the courage to ask. “Minako-sensei,”
“Hm?” The ballerina asked, head cocked to the side.
“What date is it today?” Yuuri whispered. Minako stared at Yuuri inquisitively, an eyebrow raised in suspicion.
“...It’s the 24th of November, 1994.”