Work Text:
For the second time, Victor felt as if he had let Yuuri down.
First, he had made him cry at the Cup of China. Yuuri had let him off with a promise to never try something like that again, but Victor would probably feel guilty about it forever.
Now, instead of being there to support Yuuri before and during the Free Skate, he was in Japan and resigning himself to only being able to call him and watch the performance live.
Yuuri had told him to go back, even when Victor himself was torn. He had insisted that Victor be there for Makkachin and of course he wanted to be – before Yuuri, he had loved that dog more than anyone else. He had worried about him the whole flight back.
But now, with the knowledge that Makkachin would actually be fine and probably able to go back to Yuuri’s parents in a few days, Victor felt it was safe to fall completely into his guilt over leaving Yuuri. He really had wanted to go back once he knew how Makkachin would be but even if he got the first available flight; he would never make it back in time for Yuuri to skate.
Victor had seen how nervous Yuuri had been last time. Yuuri had said time and again nerves were the main reason he did so badly in his last Grand Prix. Sure, Yakov had begrudgingly agreed to keep an eye on Yuuri (only, he had insisted, so Victor could understand what it really took to be a coach) but it still remained that Victor would not be there. This was the final skate Yuuri had to get through to secure or lose his place in the finals.
The thought of Yuuri being in Russia, with none of his skating friends and now no coach had torn Victor up from the moment he had left Makkachin at the vets. Before then he had just wanted to see his old friend and fuss over him, tearfully scolding the dog because Victor had told him before they left not to steal any steamed buns. Makkachin seemed unfazed by his owner’s ranting, but even in his more subdued state was happy to see him. Victor could never stay mad at Makkachin – part of the dog’s charm was how naughty he could be sometimes.
Victor was just relieved that he was going to be okay. It was nice that Yuuri understood how important his dog was and Victor said so to Mari, standing outside with her. He really needed some fresh air.
Victor had loved it here before, but it felt empty without Yuuri. Mari nodded slowly, looking like she was deciding something before speaking.
“Of course he does. Yuuri wasn’t there when Vicchan died. He’ll probably never feel okay with it.” That confused Victor so much he momentarily forgot he was busy feeling guilty. Yuuri’s mother had called him Vicchan while he had been training Yuuri, and as far as Victor was aware he was still very much alive.
“Vicchan?” Mari nodded her head towards the door before turning and Victor followed. She led him to a room with a small shrine – some flowers, unlit incense sticks, it was all quite lovely.
In the middle was a picture of Yuuri, so much younger and smiling brightly, arms wrapped around a dog.
A dog that looked suspiciously like Makkachin, only smaller.
Victor cooed over the picture for a little while, commenting on how cute Yuuri was as a kid and how fluffy the dog looked. He knew poodles were fluffy. Whatever Mari had actually been trying to show him had been lost in favour of the picture and he heard her sigh, though she didn’t sound angry.
“He found out you had a dog, so all he talked about was getting a dog. Not any dog, either. He wanted one just like yours.” Victor had to admit, he was touched. But who wouldn’t want a poodle? They were the cutest.
“And he called him Vicchan?”
“We called him that, for short. His name was Victor.”
That stalled the cooing for a few seconds. Victor pictured little Yuuri, watching a younger Victor on the ice and in interviews and wanting to be like him. Even having a dog just like his, named after him. He could hear Yurio’s voice in the back of his head, telling him it was downright weird. Mentally, Victor disagreed.
“That’s the cutest thing I’ve ever heard!” He turned back to Mari to see her smiling slightly, probably glad he hadn’t decided her brother had bordered on stalker territory. Victor thought of the video of Yuuri dancing his programme and wondered if he had done the same when he was younger, watching videos of Victor over and over to try and memorise his moves.
For the first time he wondered what it really meant to Yuuri to have him show up one day, suddenly face to face with someone he had followed for years.
“Yuuri’s going to kill me for telling you about that, but Vicchan died just before his first Grand Prix. Yuuri worries anyway, but that really got to him.” Victor frowned as he thought back. He was mostly focused on his own performance and giving advice to Yurio, so he had passed off the Japanese skater’s failure as nerves. It happened sometimes, all it took was one bad day.
Yuuri must have been heartbroken – in a foreign country with only his coach as support, no friends or family to cheer him on, and not being able to say goodbye to his dog. Victor wished he’d paid more attention back then. The memory probably still ate at Yuuri.
“No wonder he wanted me to come back…” Victor mused and Mari hummed in agreement. It felt like suddenly there was another time when he had let Yuuri down. Yurri would tell him he was being ridiculous and Victor hadn’t even known him then, how was he supposed to know Yuuri was having a hard time?
Yuuri was good like that.
“He worshipped you. He made Dad miss soccer so he could watch figure skating. We never knew what he was talking about, but he was always so excited.” Mari laughed slightly as she remembered. “We couldn’t get him to do anything if you were on. Everyone knew Victor was his favourite.”
There was the image of little Yuuri again, staring wide-eyed at the TV, excitedly telling his family about combination spins and triple axels while they just nodded at him. Victor made a mental note to definitely ask Yuuri’s parents to tell him about when Yuuri was a child. Mari was still talking, accepting whatever would happen when her brother found out she had revealed his fanboy days to Victor (and he was going to find out, there was no way Victor was keeping this quiet).
“He had all these posters of you in his room. We all knew who you were the moment you walked in.” That took Victor by surprise slightly. Of course he expected Yuuri to recognise him, but didn’t realise his family and possibly half of Hasetsu to do the same.
“He did? I’ve never seen any.” Victor had only seen glimpses of Yuuri’s room, mostly when he had gone there to fetch Makkachin back. Yuuri wanted some privacy and Victor respected that, but from what he remembered the walls were bare.
“He took them down when you showed up.”
Of course he had. Victor could almost picture Yuuri scrambling to take down any evidence that he had ever even looked at Victor before they had met. He wondered if Yuuri had kept the posters, or if he had decided that he no longer needed them.
Victor couldn’t say why, but he hoped Yuuri had kept them. The thought made him laugh fondly.
“Maybe I should start collecting posters of him? Then he might feel less embarrassed that you told me.” Mari laughed.
“That would definitely make it worse, but he might actually not mind it.”
Victor made a beeline for Yuuri’s mother as soon as they left the shrine, asking about Yuuri as a child. Hiroko Katsuki, it seemed, was a very proud mother and looked almost gleeful that Victor wanted to know more about her baby. He’d had Yuuri pegged as a mama’s boy. She showed Victor everything – pictures from when he was a baby, all round cheeks and big, brown eyes. She told him she still had Yuuri’s first skates, and proudly showed him a photograph of Yuuri and Yuko, much smaller, smiling proudly from the rink. Although Yuuri barely had enough hair to do it, he still had a small ponytail.
Of course, because Victor’s hair had been longer then.
**************************************************************************************************************
Yuuri had been livid, as Mari had predicted, when Victor told him. He really only had meant to leave a message to tell him Makkachin would be fine, and to wish him luck and to remember Victor would still be watching him. Victor had worried, of course – he had seen Yuuri in China, and Yakov had always been a brilliant coach but Victor had no idea if he would know how to handle Yuuri if he broke down again.
At least Yuuri would be prepared for the lectures. Victor had apparently picked up a few things about coaching from him after all.
When Yuuri called back, after all the results and podium pictures and interviews, he had practically screamed.
“She told you?!”
“It’s cute, Yuuri! Did she tell you I’m thinking of starting a poster collection for you?” Yuuri groaned down the phone and Victor laughed. He still felt bad that he hadn’t been there in Russia, but this Yuuri sounded less tense. He’d do better for the finals.
“Don’t do that, it’s embarrassing.”
“Makkachin says hi! We miss you!” It was a bit of a dirty move, but Victor didn’t want Yuuri to really be mad at his sister and he knew Yuuri would fall for it.
Of course he did.
“I miss you too, I’ll be back soon. Tell Mari this isn’t over.”
“Hey, Yuuri?” Yuuri hummed back, probably already starting to pack his things up. Victor could only imagine how much he must want to go home, after the day he’d had.
“Thank you. For telling me to come back. I really mean it.” He could almost see Yuuri on the other end of the line, still blushing a little but smiling all the same.
“I’m glad Makkachin is okay. I’ll see you soon.”
It was still only the calm before the storm. In bringing out Yuuri’s confidence, Victor had created something of a force of nature.
He probably needed to warn Mari.