Chapter Text
Chapter 1 - Prologue
Meiji 22 (1889) - Early April
After the noise and confusion of Vladivostok, the private train cars that the company had chartered were nothing short of a blessing from the gods. Yuuri thought he was going to burst if he heard anyone else shouting at him in completely incomprehensible Russian before he got the chance to sleep and recover a little.
But the private cars were calmer, even with an entire theatre company and then some tucked away into them. Yuuri even had a little cabin to himself, and right at that moment, he could just about kiss Morooka for arranging it. Down towards the end of the car, someone was practicing the shamisen -- Yuuko, probably, if he had to guess? It didn't sound like a song he recognized from around the theatre -- but it was near-silent otherwise, as if the thick blanket of snow over the fields and forests they were rolling through was keeping everything muffled.
This much snow, and in April... Gazing out of his window and letting himself lose track of the passing minutes, Yuuri wondered if it ever really got warm in a place like Siberia.
The minutes did pass while he was looking, though, and then hours, as the landscape behind the window shifted into an endless white plain, dotted here and there with stands of heavy pine trees or tiny, far-off villages. Yuuri stayed curled up by the window, a blanket wrapped around him, and let himself drift away in thought.
It would take a couple of weeks to cross Russia. Then from Moscow, they'd go to Paris, then stay until the autumn, and take the better part of another month on the way back to Japan, and then...
What then?
What was he going to do when he came back?
Yuuri nearly jumped when the door to his cabin slid open without so much as an apology, or even a knock. It was dark, he realized all of a sudden. How long had he been sitting here?
Minako let herself in without asking, the way she had ever since she'd taken him under her wing, reaching out to light a lamp as soon as she was in the room.
"Yuuri. What are you doing, sitting alone in the dark like this?" He nearly flinched at the suspicion in her voice -- Minako did know him well.
"Oh... I was just lost in thought."
Yuuri smiled up at her, knowing how thin his own smile must look. He'd been 'lost in thought' half the time since winter set in, but this probably wasn't going to be the time that Minako called him on it, he thought. Even if Minako was looking at him like she could see right into his soul, and wasn't too pleased with what she was seeing.
With a sigh, Minako shut the door and tossed herself onto the empty bunk across from Yuuri's. Though she wore the dignified clothing and simple makeup of a grown woman, though she was old enough to have retired from her original line of work, there was still a youthful sort of energy to her. Yuuri had heard more than once that she was a little bit of a terror back when she was a maiko, dancing all over the thin line between coquettishness and outright scandal without ever quite going all the way across. As a a geiko, she'd been well-known for how well she was able to combine physical grace with a carefree attitude that made her seem completely ageless, even by the time Yuuri met her.
She'd taught him a lot, but he'd never quite learned how to do "carefree" off of the stage. It seemed so easy, but...
Well, his own public image was popular enough, at least. A young face and an old soul -- there was a certain romance to the idea, or so the reviewers in the Asahi and the Nichinichi seemed to think.
Wistfulness sold well, as long as he didn't go too far past wistful.
Minako, true to form, was pulling a bottle of sake and a couple of glasses out of her bag already. Yuuri hoped for her sake that she liked whatever it was people drank in Paris, because it would be a small miracle if her personal stash held out until they arrived, much less through the summer and the return journey.
"Let's have a drink," she said, with the air of an announcement more than of a suggestion. "To celebrate the beginning of our great adventure!"
Yuuri didn't really want to drink, but he never really did. He could also have pointed out that their adventure started days ago, when they left the shores of Japan for Russia, but... There didn't seem to be much point in arguing. Anyway, he was happy enough to pour her drinks for her, and to sit with a glass in his hands while someone else drank.
"Of course, Minako-sensei. Here."
He took the bottle from her and filled her glass -- she was his elder, after all, and his teacher. When he was finished, she poured a drink for him in return, and settled in comfortably on her bunk. (Another gift of Minako's that he'd worked hard to emulate -- managing to look so relaxed without ever letting her kimono get into even the slightest of disarray. A properly-trained geiko really was an artist, even in her time off.)
Minako drank half of the cup in one go, then lowered it to hold cradled in her hands, watching Yuuri again. The intensity of her stare was starting to make him uncomfortable long before she finally spoke.
"Well," she said, with a decisive air, "I'm excited about all this. I think it will be good for all of us to have a change of pace like this!"
Then, looking him over again, she added, "It could be a breath of fresh air."
Yuuri smiled at the floor, and wondered how tired he must look to her, if she felt like she had to say things like that to cheer him up.
He wondered how long he could keep this up, if 'a breath of fresh air' wasn't going to be enough to keep him from suffocating. Hours later, when he'd walked Minako back to her own cabin and was lying in the dark again, he was still wondering about that.
How much air would it take, at this rate, to keep his will to go on performing alive?
____________________________
"Monsieur Nikiforov!"
Ah, there they were. He supposed tonight wouldn't be one of the nights that he managed to escape work unhindered by the press, after all.
Victor smiled -- the polite smile, the dazzling smile, the bring-them-to-their-knees smile -- and turned to face the small cluster of reporters. Back straight but not too straight, shoulders back, posture welcoming but not too welcoming. They fell like wolves, as they always did, on the opening he granted for them.
"Monsieur Nikiforov, tell us about the show that the company is working on for the Exposition Universelle!"
"Is it true that you're planning a solo performance that will be open to the public?"
"People are saying that the director of the Bolshoi Ballet is planning to attend the exhibition in person, that he means to try and bring you back to Russia!"
"There are rumors that members of the Czar's family will be in attendance at the opening ceremony, and have requested a private performance from you, can you comment on those?"
"What about young Monsieur Plisetsky -- he's to graduate from the Opera Ballet's school soon, but do you think he has the skill and discipline to succeed with the main company when he does?"
"A source told us--"
"You're said to have--"
"--like to get your thoughts on--"
Victor kept smiling.
"Now, now, mesdames and messieurs, surely you wouldn't have me spoil so many surprises all at once!
"But I can tell you this much: there's a lot to look forward to in the next few months. Keep your eyes open, and I think you'll be pleasantly surprised!"