Chapter Text
Cheers erupted from the crowd as Viktor Nikiforov skated out onto the ice. “After the Grand Prix Final you’ll have a new poster,” Phichit teased, poking Yuuri in his side. They sat side by side on Phichit's bed with the NHK Trophy livestream playing on Phichit's computer. Yuuri laughed along with his friend. A beautiful aria rang out from the speakers. That year Viktor chose an Italian song "Stay Close to Me" for his free skate. "Don't look so lovestruck Yuuri."
"What? I don't at all!" Yuuri said, blushing a bit.
"You're probably going to trip all over yourself when you meet him, right?" Phichit gestured to the screen. "How can you compare to such elegance?" Yuuri playfully shoved him. "You better get his autograph at the Grand Prix Final okay?" Yuuri nodded, smiling a little.
Dancing through his routine, Viktor gave the crowd a perfect performance. Yuuri watched with a huge smile, heart pounding in his chest. Soon Yuuri would be skating on the same ice as his idol. “Nikiforov’s last quad is his signature move: the quadruple flip.” As Viktor went into the jump, Yuuri noticed something was off. His foot seemed to catch on the ice, pushing him into the jump wrong. He over-rotated the jump and then came crashing down onto his right leg. Yuuri and Phichit watched in horror as Viktor then landed on his hip and rolled across the ice. For a moment the music continued to play, but then screeched to a stop when Viktor continued to lay on the ice. “Viktor Nikiforov has fallen! Medics are standing by, waiting to see if he can stand on his own!”
“Viktor!” Yuuri exclaimed, covering his mouth in shock. He watched in horror as Viktor struggled to stand, but he couldn’t move his leg. Slipping and sliding on the ice, Viktor attempted to get up onto his uninjured leg, but he lacked the balance to stand fully. His skate slid and sent him falling back onto the ice. He writhed in pain for a few more moments, before giving up and rolling over onto his back to signal he needed assistance. Tears flowed down Viktor’s face, and he laid an arm across his eyes to hide them.
“I can’t believe this is happening,” Phichit whispered in shock.
Yuuri’s phone began to buzz and he glanced down to see a text from Yuuko, “Did you see that Viktor fell?”
Again, it buzzed, this time showing a text from Minako. “VIKTOR FELL!!!”
“Is he going to be alright?” Yuuri wondered out loud, clutching his phone to his chest as he watched the medics carry Viktor off the ice. Phichit and Yuuri shared an unsure look, barely listening to the commentators. Tears began to form in Yuuri’s eyes. “He’ll be alright, right?” Phichit shrugged and closed the laptop.
An hour later, news stories began to come out. “Major Hip Dislocation and Fracture Sends Nikiforov into Surgery!” One title read. Another announced, “Nikiforov Out for the Season!” Yuuri’s hands trembled as he scrolled through them. “Nikiforov: Does This Mean Retirement?” Near the end of the news feed, Yuuri found one especially eye-opening title, “The Grand Prix Finals: Anyone’s Game.”
When Viktor awoke from surgery, Yakov stood by his side. The old man hurried over and held his hand tight, smiling down at him as best as he could. “How do you feel Vitya?”
“Still hurts,” Viktor groaned. “Surely they have more painkillers.” Viktor began to sit up, but Yakov placed a firm hand on his chest to push him back down again.
“They said you need to rest up for today so you can start rehabilitation tomorrow,” Yakov said with a scolding tone. "Don't push yourself too fast."
Viktor nodded, a grin crossing his face. "Good. There's still two weeks until the Grand Prix Final and-" Viktor broke off when he realized he never finished his free skate. "Though I suppose I won't be participating in it. Well, Russian Nationals is about a month away. I'll be strong enough by then."
Yakov's smiled became strained. Before he could say anything, the door opened, and a young Japanese doctor came into the room. "Oh good, you're awake." He walked over and pulled up a stool next to Viktor as Yakov stepped aside. "We'll need to discuss your physical therapy. You'll need at least three months of rehab to get you fully walking again. We can transfer everything to your normal hospital in St. Petersberg and-"
"Three months?" Viktor cut in. There went any chance of participating at Russian Nationals. "How long until I can skate again?"
"Well, it depends on your progress," The doctor said. He hesitated and stared down at the chart for a while. "You experienced what's called a subtrochonteric fracture. It's moderately severe, and your hip will likely be a little unstable for the rest of your life. I am not certain that you will ever be able to skate at the same level you have been." Viktor stared back at the doctor in shock. "Jumps are certainly out of the question, but I'm sure some light skating will be possible in the future."
Shaken, Viktor leaned back in his bed and stared up at the ceiling. Less significant hip injuries than his had forced much younger skaters into retirement. His stomach dropped, and he felt as if he would throw up at any second. It was over. His skating career was finished. The legendary figure skater Viktor Nikiforov was no more. Even there in the hospital room, Viktor thought about how pitiful it was that only his coach was there to comfort him after his injury. Shifting in bed, Viktor lifted up the covers to look at the surgery site. It was covered in bandages.
It was easy to not move for the rest of the day. Viktor scrolled through article after article discussed his injuries and his retirement. He obsessed over the Twitter and Instagram feeds of fellow skaters. They were all still working hard for the Grand Prix Finals. After his injury, all of the skaters at the NHK Trophy posted some hopeful acknowledgment of Viktor's injury. At one point Chris texted him, “how are you? <3” Viktor ignored the text and tossed his phone aside. Frustrated, he threw back his head and stared up at the ceiling. He imagined the Grand Prix Finals and pictured the top six skaters that would be there. Without him there, Chris would win gold finally. The Canadian skater Jean-Jaques Leroy would win silver. Viktor could not guess who would win bronze. With a heavy sigh, Viktor reached for his phone again. Unlocking it, Viktor scrolled through the profiles of the four competitors he didn’t know made it into the finals. He recognized Cao Bin, Michele Crispino, and Otabek Altin’s names. One name, however, was unfamiliar. Yuuri Katsuki from Japan. Viktor stared at the man’s picture for a while before setting his phone aside.
“Don’t push yourself,” The doctor told Viktor as he helped him get out of bed the following day. “Your leg will likely hurt quite a bit since it’s still healing and remodeling.” Viktor nodded, but nothing could have prepared him for the searing pain of when he set his foot down. He sucked in a quick breath and scrunched his eyes shut. “Here, use the crutches. You’ll have to go through physical therapy twice a day. We can do that here for now until you want to return to St. Petersburg.”
With a sigh, Viktor followed the doctor down the hall to the physical therapy room. He felt pitiful. All eyes were on him and he occasionally could hear whispers, “Look it’s Viktor Nikiforov! Do you ever think he’ll skate again?”
“He’s still in the hospital? He must have really injured himself.”
“I wonder who will win the Grand Prix Finals this year?”
After the first day of listening to those whispers, Viktor wore headphones and buried himself in music every moment he was around other people. Often, he found himself listening to his program songs over and over again. He had nothing but skating in his life, and even that had slipped away faster than he could blink. There were plenty of delusional people who still wished Viktor luck in his recovery and spoke about how excited they were to see him return. After a while, scrolling through encouraging tweets he tossed his phone aside in disgust.
When it came time to remove the bandage, Viktor could only stare at the hideous scar on his side. "It healed well," The doctor said, though Viktor disagreed. Several inches long, the jagged, red wound spread along Viktor's right leg and hip. Scabs peeled around it, making it look even uglier than if it was an open wound. "I expect it to be fully healed in a few days." Viktor nodded, continuing to stare at the scar with an ashamed look.
When Viktor was released from the hospital, and he returned to St. Petersberg he decided he wanted to be anywhere else than the wretched city. His name was plastered everywhere on every news channel and every magazine and newspaper. It sickened him. Then, every day he would trek back and forth between the hospital and his apartment, passing by the skating rink. One day it was too much. Viktor sat in his empty apartment, rubbing Makkachin's ears when he decided that enough was enough. He wanted to flee and never be seen again. While browsing a list of quiet vacation spots, he came across Hasetsu, Japan. “One notable destination is the Yu-topia Katsuki hot springs resort! This small hideaway spot is quiet, secluded and has a familial vibe,” The article read. Viktor leaned back on his couch and scrolled through the provided pictures. The inn looked inviting and comforting, and Viktor was sure that bathing in a hot spring every night would aid with the pain in his hip. He flipped his phone around to show Makkachin.
“Let’s go here,” Viktor looked to his dog with a small smile. He barked back and wagged. “Good boy. I bet you’ll have fun right. We haven’t spent a lot of time together recently, huh?” He rubbed behind the poodle’s ears as he spoke. “Your birthday’s coming up. Twelve years young, right Makkachin?” His hand slowed, and Makkachin stared back with a confused look. “Let’s spend lots of time together okay?” Viktor leaned his forehead against Makkachin's. "At least I still have you."
It was dark in the club skating rink as Yuuri absentmindedly skated circles along the ice. With his eyes closed, he practiced a few spins and step sequences before trying his luck at his quadruple Salchow. He landed it without a problem. With a sigh, he wondered if he could ever consistently land it in competition. Yuuri looped around the rink again and then skated to the middle of the ice. He pulled out his phone and put in his earphones. At first, Yuuri planned to practice his routine, but as he scrolled through the music his finger stopped right above “Stay Close to Me.” He hit play and let himself drift through Viktor’s routine. It was stupid, but skating the routine comforted Yuuri. He let himself wonder how Viktor was doing and hoped for the best. After skating it for almost a week, Yuuri almost knew the whole routine and once he was confident he began to practice his jumps to the music. The day before, he managed to land a quadruple flip successfully for the first time.
“How did he mess it up?” Yuuri wondered aloud after performing the jump. “If someone like me can do it...” He already knew the answer. Sometimes figure skaters made mistakes. It was common for them to get injured, though it rarely happened in competitions. Years ago, Viktor injured himself from failing a jump, but that was during practice, and he hit his head. Yuuri frowned and pulled out his earphones. It was starting to get late.
“Yuuri!” Phichit waved from the sidelines, grinning like a maniac. “Have you been sneaking off to the rink to practice Viktor’s routine?”
Embarrassed, Yuuri shook his head and skated over to his friend. “It’s just to help calm my nerves about the Grand Prix Finals.”
“And your nerves about Viktor?” Phichit guessed, leaning over the wall.
Yuuri lowered his eyes to the floor. “Do you think he’s alright?” He asked softly. “He looked devastated, laying there on the ice and he hasn’t said anything to the press or posted anything online or-”
“Relax Yuuri,” Phichit said, grabbing his friend’s shoulders. “I bet he just wants to take some time off to process it all.” Yuuri gulped and nodded, staring at Phichit with a frown. Viktor needed time to process that his skating career was over. No one, not even the legendary Viktor Nikiforov, could recover from such a horrendous injury. “You should focus on the Grand Prix Finals. They’re only a few days away!”
“Right,” Yuuri said.
"But for now,” Phichit said as he yawned. “Let’s get to sleep. It’s almost 1 in the morning! Celestino is going to be mad if he knew you were practicing late at night again.”
“You’re right,” Yuuri said, skating over to the rink’s exit. He slipped the blade guards back onto his skates and walked over to the benches. “It’s just easier to practice when no one else is watching.”
“You even landed a quad flip,” Phichit said, whistling. “Maybe you’ll win the Grand Prix Finals!”
The fact that winning the Grand Prix Finals was even possible made Yuuri feel sick. All it meant was that Viktor was gone. He was gone from figure skating forever. As Yuuri unlaced his skates and changed back into his tennis shoes, he wondered if he would ever get to meet his idol. The Grand Prix Finals would have been the perfect opportunity if Yuuri worked up the courage. He sighed and lowered his face into his hands. It hurt thinking about how much pain Viktor must have been in. He probably was still in pain, struggling to find meaning without figure skating. At least Yuuri had his family and friends to fall back on, but as far as he knew Viktor didn’t have anyone. As Yuuri stood, he looked back to the ice rink. All Viktor had was ice skating, and that had been stolen away from him. He must have been in agony.
“So far so good,” Viktor whispered to his dog as they walked through the Hasetsu airport. He wore a large pair of sunglasses and a flat cap to mask his hair. There were no posters of him and no magazines with him on the front cover. Instead, the walls were plastered with photos of the Japanese skater who made it into the Grand Prix Finals. The event was less than a day away. Enjoying the lack of attention, Viktor stopped to admire the posters. A ghost of a smile crossed his face. “He’s somewhat handsome, huh Makkachin?” Wagging his tail, Makkachin barked and then looked off at something in the distance. Yipping happily, the poodle took off. “Wait! Don’t run off!” Viktor struggled to catch up, hobbling along on his crutches.
Luckily, Makkachin had not gone far. He was busy sniffing another poodle. The other dog barely reached Makkachin’s shoulders, but had no fear of the larger dog. He squatted down, offering to play. Makkachin yipped, and the pair of dogs began wrestling. “Hey now, we’re near a busy street.” Viktor wrestled with his backpack, finding two leashes buried deep in it. “I’m not fast enough to keep up with you, so you’ll have to wear this okay?” He clipped one leash to Makkachin and then clipped the other to the smaller poodle. “You look lost, come along with me for now.”
Viktor reached out and flipped over the dog’s ID tag. “Vicchan,” The tag read, along with an address.
“Come on then Vicchan,” Viktor said, scratching the dog behind the ears. “Let’s get you home.”
Vicchan’s home also happened to be the Yu-topia inn. “Wow!” Viktor said, smiling as he examined the beautiful exterior. A freshly fallen layer of snow dusted the ancient looking statues. Vicchan barked and wagged, straining on the leash. “One second puppy,” Viktor said, struggling to get up the steps on his crutches. Panting heavily, he stared down at his leg in frustration.
“Vicchan!” A delighted voice exclaimed. “Where have you been?” An older Japanese woman stood at the entryway of the inn. Viktor released the leash and the little poodle went racing up to her. She scooped him up and smiled at Viktor. “Thank you for bringing him back. We were so worried.”
“Oh, it was no problem at all,” Viktor said, putting on a charming smile as he whipped off his sunglasses.
The woman stared at him, noticing his large backpack. “On vacation? Do you need a place to stay?”
“Actually about that,” Viktor said, hobbling up towards her. “It’s a bit more complicated than that.”
The woman’s name was Hiroko. Her and her husband, Toshiya, owned the inn and ran it with their daughter Mari. Their son was the Japanese figure skater Yuuri Katsuki. “I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you,” Hiroko said as she brought some tea over to the table Viktor sat at. “I don’t really know much about figure skating.”
“That’s preferable really,” Viktor said, sipping some of the tea. “I wanted to get away to a secluded, quiet place for a while.”
Hiroko nodded. “We would be happy to help, Vicchan,” She said. The nickname surprised Viktor, he glanced to the small poodle cuddled up to Makkachin. Was the dog named after him? “Yuuri is a huge fan of yours and we would love to help.” Viktor nodded, unsure of what to say. “There’s a quiet room in the back of the inn, near Yuuri’s room. No one will bother you there.”
“Perfect! Thank you so much!” A warm feeling filled Viktor’s chest. He had inspired someone so much they named their dog after him and became a figure skater who promptly made it to the Grand Prix Finals. Viktor always made sure to be kind to his fans, but he didn’t know much about them. His heart fell when he realized he would never inspire anyone like that again.
Just as Viktor hoped, the inn was quiet and secluded. Few people frequented it, and none of them recognized Viktor. He was ecstatic to make his way to the hot springs and relax in the soothing water, though he hated seeing his scar exposed. As he expected, the ache in his hip weakened when he sank into the warm water. “Amazing,” He murmured, leaning his head back. Up above, stars twinkled, lighting up the sky. Viktor chose to bathe late at night, just to avoid other people. He didn’t want to inconvenience others as he struggled to get around on his crutches. Plus, he doubted they would appreciate seeing the hideous scar from his surgery. The following day he would have to go to the physical therapist in Hasetsu. In the meantime, he wanted to relax and try not to think about the upcoming Grand Prix Finals. He figured Yuuri’s family would be watching them and planned to hide out in his room for the duration of them. It would hurt too much to watch. For the meantime, Viktor wanted to pretend he may heal someday. Running a hand over his scar on his right hip, Viktor hummed quietly to himself. It was stupid and pathetic, but Viktor wanted to hold onto that piece of his life for a little while longer. Ignoring the Grand Prix Finals would help with that.
The following evening, Viktor laid on his bed with his earphones in and music on full blast. The Instagram app updated continually, showing Chris’ new photos of himself at the Grand Prix Finals. Makkachin lay by Viktor’s side, licking his hand every once and a while as Viktor scratched him behind the ears. Before long, Viktor’s curiosity got the best of him, and he pulled up the results of the short program. He scanned through them, and his eyes widened in surprise. Jean-Jaques Leroy managed to get first, and Chris had slipped all the way down to fourth. Yuuri Katsuki was currently in third, while Cao Bin was in second. None of it was how Viktor predicted.
“Perhaps I’m not as disposable as I thought,” Viktor said softly.
The following night, Viktor forced himself to watch the free skate. He lurked in the back of the room, sipping some sake and eating a bowl of katsudon Hiroko prepared for him. It was apparently Yuuri’s favorite. Watching his fellow figure skaters worsened the ache in Viktor’s hip and heart. He sighed and leaned his head back against the wall. When Yuuri skated out onto the ice, cheers erupted from all the patrons of the inn.
“Yuuri Katsuki, age 23, has done remarkably well for his first Grand Prix Final,” The announcer said. “We all wonder what he is capable of.”
Viktor leaned forward, watching as Yuuri began his program. His strengths were clearly his step sequences and spins. None of his jumps were perfect, but his skating was beautiful regardless. It made Viktor’s heartache and soon enough, tears streamed down his face. He hid his sobbing in his sleeve, but it didn’t stop until long after Yuuri finished skating. Rubbing at his eyes, he wondered why Yuuri provoked such a response from him. It wasn't his nostalgia from skating or else he would have cried at everyone's performances. It's because he skates like his body is creating music. Viktor thought to himself. He's going to be a champion while the world forgets about me. When the scores came in, Yuuri found himself in first place. He remained there until Jean-Jaques Leroy skated.
“Jean-Jaques Leroy is this year’s Grand Prix Champion!” The announcer said. The crowd broke into applause. Viktor watched the medal ceremony with a heavy heart. Cao Bin placed third, while Yuuri Katsuki managed to barely scoot by into second. Chris dropped even lower and placed in fifth below Michele Crispino. Otabek Altin finished last.
During the press conference reporters were dying to demand what drove Yuuri to win second. Blushing, the skater shrugged. “I just really wanted to do my best,” He said with a timid smile. “My family and friends have been very dedicated to me, and I want to thank them for that.” Cheers rang out through the inn. Both Hiroko and Tohsiya’s eyes shined with joy. “Oh and one more thing.” Yuuri smiled widely. “I know everyone’s been avoiding it, but I didn’t want him to be forgotten.” Viktor sat up a bit straighter, heart thudding in his chest. “I hope Viktor is doing well and he will recover soon. He’s been my idol since I was young and I-I well I never would have gotten this far if I had never seen him skate.” Tears gathered at the corners of Yuuri’s eyes. “I really hope he’s doing well!”
Several people glanced back to gauge Viktor’s reaction. Out of courtesy, none of them had said anything before, but they knew who he was and were obviously curious. Rubbing at his eyes, Viktor grabbed his crutches and struggled to his feet. It was late and time to go to bed. Makkachin hurried up to follow him having just woken up from his nap.
During the gala, Yuuri awkwardly wandered from conversation to conversation, being congratulated on his silver medal over and over again. He accepted the compliments and moved on, shyly skirting away from everyone. As he paced around the room, he overheard a conversation between Chris Giacometti and Yuri Plisetsky, the up and coming Russian skater who just won gold in the Junior Grand Prix.
“I haven’t heard a peep from him and neither has Yakov,” Yuri grumbled, tugging at his tie. “He could be dead for all we know!”
“He hasn’t responded to any of my texts,” Chris said with a sigh. “I have to admit, I’m really worried.”
“It’s not unlike Viktor to seal himself away from the rest of the world,” Yuri said, shrugging. “Though usually not for this long.” Chris nodded in agreement. “I even went by his apartment, Yakov has an extra key, so I busted in. It’s like he hasn’t been living there for weeks!”
“Where could he have gone?” Chris said, taking another sip of champagne.
“Wherever he’s gone, it’s damn selfish of that old man to abandon us,” Yuri said, nearly snarling. “Screw him.” Chris shot Yuri a shocked look, but the Russian Punk didn’t care. He ran a hand through his hair and continued, “He’s just moping in his own self-pity! So what if he can’t skate anymore, there’s still plenty of us that still care about him!” With a frustrated sigh, Yuri slammed his glass of water down on the table and glanced across the room, spotting Yuuri. “Oh, it’s you.”
“Hello,” Yuuri said nervously. He hoped the pair didn’t realize he was eavesdropping.
“Congrats,” Yuri said as he lips twisted into a wry smile. “But don’t get too excited. I’ll be winning gold next year.”
Chris smiled a bit, though it looked sad. “Congrats Yuuri,” He said, squeezing his shoulder. “Though maybe you should try something a bit sexier next year. Your innocence is cute and all, but-”
“Your sexiness didn’t win,” Yuri cut in.
“That’s because Viktor was gone,” Chris snapped back at the blonde. “What’s the point of competing without him?” With that said, Chris sulked away, hands shoved in his pockets.
By the time Yuuri returned to Detroit, he felt drained and exhausted. “Do you think Viktor heard what you said?” Phichit asked as they sat together on Phichit’s bed, playing with his hamsters. Yuuri shrugged, gently petting one of the hamsters. “I bet it flattered him.”
“I really do hope he’s okay,” Yuuri said.
Phichit turned to say something else, but broke off as tears began streaming down Yuuri’s cheeks. “Yuuri!”
“I-I’m sorry,” Yuuri said and hurried to wipe off his face. “I-I-I just-” He broke off and stared over at one of his posters of Viktor.
“Oh Yuuri,” Phichit said, pulling Yuuri in for a tight hug. “I’m sure he’s fine! He probably just wants to be out of the spotlight for a while. I would if I were him.” Yuuri nodded, continuing to rub at his eyes. If he was Viktor, he would hide for the rest of his life. “I’m sure he’ll be back next season! Don’t dwell on it so much. There’s still the Japanese Nationals and World Championships to focus on!”
“You’re right,” Yuuri muttered.
Despite what Phichit said, Yuuri found himself at the rink several hours later. Even though he was exhausted, he went through Viktor’s routine again and again, desperate to feel closer to him. He landed all of the jumps perfectly. Yuuri clenched his hands and ran through the routine again. Earlier that evening when Yuuri spoke to his mom, she assured him that she thought Viktor was fine and on his way to recovery. Yuuri was grateful for that comforting thought but knew there was no way Hiroko could know that. So he skated to “Stay Close to Me” over and over again until his body ached as much as his heart.
When Viktor woke up, he found himself alone. More than two months had passed since Viktor’s injury and he had been relying less and less on the crutches and instead switched over to using a cane. His hip still ached terribly, but daily soaks in the hot springs eased the pain. The physical therapy seemed to be doing little good to help his hip return to its former condition. It seemed that he would have a limp for the rest of his life. “Makkachin,” Viktor called, whistling for his dog. “Come back; I’m lonely.” It sounded pathetic even to his ears. When Makkachin failed to come, Viktor groaned and rolled out of bed, snatching his cane from where it leaned against the wall. Searing pain shot up his right leg as he stood, but he pushed through it. “Makkachin, where are you?” Viktor limped out into the hallway and glanced up and down it, noticing that the door to Yuuri Katsuki’s room had been pushed open. “Are you getting into trouble?” After a moment’s hesitation, Viktor stumbled into the room. Makkachin laid curled up with Vicchan on the small bed. “There you are.” Makkachin raised his head and wagged. As Viktor glanced around the room he sucked in a gasp of surprise.
Posters of Viktor covered every wall in Yuuri Katsuki’s room. Viktor leaned against the bed and sunk to the ground, laying his cane in his lap. Surrounded by images of his former glory, Viktor felt overwhelmed. His chest tightened as his eyes skirted from picture to picture. The posters went back as far as Viktor’s win at the Junior Grand Prix. Viktor stared at the poster with a solemn smile. Back then, he still had his long hair. Since his injury, Viktor hadn’t cut his hair. It barely seemed much longer, but it tickled his neck more than before. For a moment, he wondered if he should grow it out again.
Vicchan yipped and scrambled over to the edge of the bed to lick Viktor’s face. “Thank you,” He said, laughing as he scratched the dog’s head. “You seem as sweet as your owners.” Not wanting to be left out, Makkachin whined. With a small smile, Viktor leaned over and scratched behind his dog’s ears. “Don’t worry. I won’t forget about you.” Viktor turned his eyes back to the posters. “Is this all that remains of me?” He wondered aloud. “Posters on the future World Champion’s wall?” A few tears threatened to spill out onto Viktor’s face, but he shook his head and wiped furiously at his eyes. Within the past few months, he cried much more than he ever wanted to. “No more feeling sorry for myself,” He declared. About two months remained until the World Figure Skating Championships. Viktor hoped he could pull himself together enough to make an appearance.
“Hello Vicchan, I didn’t expect to find you here.”
Viktor jumped and looked to the doorway to see Hiroko standing there. “Oh! I’m terribly sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude. Makkachin wandered off and-”
“Don’t worry at all,” Hiroko said. “I hope you’re not embarrassed.” She looked fondly at the posters all over Yuuri’s wall. “He really looks up to you.”
A ghost of a smile passed over Viktor’s lips. “I can tell,” He said with a wry grin. Then he realized something else that never occurred to him before, “He doesn’t know I’m here.”
“You asked us not to tell anyone,” Hiroko said simply. “I didn’t want to go against your wishes even if it was for Yuuri.” She sighed and shook her head. “Though he seems so devastated not knowing how you are.” Viktor remained silent. He didn’t want the rest of the skating world to know where he disappeared to. Yakov would lecture him, and Yuri would beg for him to return to Russia. All Viktor wanted was to hide away for the time being. He would gather his strength and return on his own terms. “I wanted to pass on an offer to you Vicchan.”
Curious, Viktor glanced up at Hiroko. “What is it?”
“Yuuri’s childhood friend owns the local skating rink here,” Hiroko began with a gentle tone. She knelt next to Viktor and laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. “She wanted to extend an offer for you to try skating again if your leg will allow it. She’s a big fan too. You can go late at night when no one else is there.” The thought of skating again made Viktor’s chest tighten, and for a second he thought he couldn’t breathe. Hiroko must have noticed his panicked look. She squeezed his shoulder and added on, “But don’t feel rushed, okay?”
Viktor nodded and managed a weak smile, “Okay. I do want to get out on the ice again.” He still had two months to prepare. “Soon maybe.”
It took another month before Viktor worked up the courage to step out onto the Ice Castle’s rink. Viktor had not brought his own skates so he borrowed a pair of rental skates. They felt awkward and heavy on his feet. Yuuri’s friend was a kind woman named Yuuko. “Do they feel okay?” She asked with a worried look. “I know how weird it is to wear rentals after owning your own pair for so long.”
“They’re fine,” Viktor said. His words came out more curt and annoyed than he intended. Despite that, Yuuko still beamed at him. “So this is where the Grand Prix silver medalist grew up skating?” Viktor had to admit, the Ice Castle was bland compared to his home rink. Though it had a kind feeling to it as well.
“Yuuri and I used to skate together all the time,” Yuuko said. She stared out across the ice with a fond smile. “We used to copy your routines to improve our technique. It was also really fun!” A small smile crossed Viktor’s face. “Yuuri said if he ever lost inspiration he just had to look to you.” It was ironic that Vikor had begun to lose his inspiration before his injury. Sometimes he thought everything had happened at the right time, but Viktor wanted to retire of his own choice. An injury forcing him into retirement bruised his self-esteem. He took in a deep breath and stared across the rink. For a moment, he hdesperately hoped that he could skate again. “Ready?” Yuuko asked and offered her hand. Viktor stared at it for a long time before reaching out. The moment he stood, pain shot up his right leg into his hip, but he ignored it, instead choosing to press forward. He limped awkwardly, leaning on Yuuko for support. She stepped onto the ice first. “Please don’t push yourself too hard,” She said in a comforting tone that reminded Viktor of Hiroko. “We all want you to recover, but it’ll take time.” Before Viktor placed his skate onto the ice, she quickly added, “Are you sure you want to do this Viktor?”
Putting on the largest and fakest smile he could muster Viktor replied, “Of course, I’m the legendary Viktor Nikiforov after all.”
Everything felt wrong. Viktor’s feet slipped in and out under him, and he would have fallen if not for Yuuko’s support. His right side felt especially weak; atrophied from lack of use. “Are you okay?” Yuuko asked again and again.
“Fine,” Viktor said, growing more and more frustrated.
After several slow loops around the rink, Viktor pulled his hand away from Yuuko’s. “I want to try on my own.”
“Be careful,” Yuuko said and released his hand.
For a few moments, everything was fine. Viktor pushed off gently with his left leg and skated shakily across the ice. A broad smile spread across his face. Perhaps he would recover after all. Then everything fell apart. His right leg began to buckle. Burning, throbbing pain shot up his side and his leg gave out before he could call for Yuuko’s help. He collapsed onto the ice right onto his injured leg.
“Viktor!” Yuuko called. She stayed back and waited for Viktor to ask for her assistance.
Viktor flipped onto his back and laid his arm across his face. “Please leave me alone for a while." His voice was barely above a whisper.
“You really shouldn’t lay on the ice. You’ll get cold!”
“Please, just for a little while! Just ten minutes!”
After a moment’s pause Yuuko’s skates scratched against the ice as she skated to the rink’s exit. Viktor managed to hold his sobs back until he heard the door of the rink quietly close. He hadn’t felt that miserable since the day of the NHK Trophy. Hot, burning tears ran down his cheeks, and he gasped for breath. “Damn it!” He screamed, slamming his hand against the ice. “Why must this be taken from me too? It’s all I have! It’s all I have...” His screams of despair turned to whimpers. “It’s one thing to retire, but this? I can never skate again.” Sobbing, Viktor buried his face in his hands. “I can never go on the ice again.” Before long he sat up and looked back towards the door of the rink. After a few more minutes Yuuko hurried back in and skated out to help Viktor leave the rink.
“If you ever want to try again,” Yuuko said quietly once Viktor had pulled off the skates. “The Ice Castle will always be here for you Viktor.” She held out a key to him.
“Thank you,” Viktor said, his voice hollow. He took the key and stared at it with a depressed look. “But I don’t think I will want to try again.” Shame burned through his whole body. He couldn’t believe that Yuuri and Yuuko ever looked up to him. In that moment Viktor vowed to never return to the ice again. There was no point in getting his hopes up.
Every night Viktor slept snuggled between Makkachin and Vicchan. He idly wondered if he should return to Russia, but felt no hurry. Who would want to see him again? He continued to ignore his unread messages and voicemails, tucking his phone away into a drawer. After all, if it was out of sight it was out of mind. For the time being Viktor just wanted to continue secluding himself from the rest of the world. Though he knew that peace would not last much longer. The World Championships was barely a week away. He knew the inn would be full of people cheering for Yuuri, their hometown hero. Viktor refused to acknowledge the championship's existence.