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Yuuri Katsuki didn’t have many constants in his life. He had uprooted himself after high school to move to Detroit for his career and even before that by the time he was successfully competing at the junior level he spent most of his free time training and during the competitive season it seemed as if he was in a different country every week. It made sense then, that his best - and really only - friends were those that he had made in early childhood and Phichit who had been not only his rink mate but also his roommate which would have made them at the very least acquaintances of circumstance if Phichit hadn’t been so steadfastly set on them becoming the best of friends as quickly as possible.
The one constant that he had, the one thing that made him feel truly and completely at home would always be the ice. It didn’t matter what country he was in or even really who else was sharing the ice with him at the time, being in rink with the air conditioners pumping at full power and a blank sheet ready for him to shape however he pleased put him in a state of peace that even the onsen in his family home wasn’t able to. The experience that came from the moment his blades made contact with the smooth surface of untouched ice was a feeling that was unmatched by anything else in his life. It made sense then, that he would be here when everything else in his life was too confusing for him to even think about, let alone try to comprehend.
Though they weren’t required for competition anymore, Yuuri had always enjoyed figures. It helped that he knew exactly what he had too do to get the desired result whereas during his programs, no matter how much training he did, it always seemed that there had to be at least a little bit of luck involved in him being able to complete all his components to the best of his ability. Art had always been a subject that Yuuri excelled in and he still remembered the first time he sketched a sakura at school and was then able to painstakingly carve it into the ice. He had only been ten years old at the time and just beginning to take figure skating seriously so he’d had to go over the tracing so many times that he still remembered all the calluses and blisters that he had gotten from the hours of work, but it had all been worth it and his parents still had an overhead shot of it hanging in the onsen. Hiroko and Toshiya Katsuki may not really understand what their son did now, but the moment they saw that flower they understood that he had a talent that deserved to be fostered.
As Yuuri advanced in his competitive career he’d had less and less time to devote towards the design and implementation his figures, especially as they became more and more intricate, but he was still occasionally able to work on them as a cool down or as something to take his mind off a jump that he’d been having difficulty with. Figures were a godsend in regards to his anxiety because though the ice was where he felt this most at home, it was also where he was judged the most; but when it was just him and a fresh sheet of ice, he could work for hours and no one would really care about what he was doing.
Yuuri found himself now in an empty rink lit mostly by the moonlight spilling in from the wide floor to ceiling windows carving deep edges into the ice working on one of his most intricate designs yet. Hopefully by the end, it would look like a bouquet of roses and cherry blossoms interlaced with each other surrounded by snowflakes. Designs like this were more difficult because while he had to stay on an edge for his main design, the surrounding snowflakes required him to to hop around the edge of the rink so he wouldn’t disturb the image with a mistakenly placed foot.
When he had entered the rink that night he hadn’t planned on such an intricate undertaking but when he started his laps at the very edge of the ice, the image had entered his mind and he knew that to complete it he would be at the rink until morning. After lightly tracing his outline for the the main bouquet he was able to let his mind wander as he retraced the same design over and over again, his edges digging deeper and deeper into the ice at each pass. It was the act of tracing over the initial image that allowed him some time for himself, and he let his mind wander. He thought about this new life in Saint Petersburg and how sometimes Yuuri felt like an imposter in his own skin. It was as if from the moment Viktor Nikiforov entered his life, Yuuri the dime-a-dozen figure skater somehow became Yuuri Katsuki of Japan, Grand Prix Final silver medalist and one of the favourites for the podium at the upcoming the World Championships after somehow claiming another Silver medal at Four Continents behind JJ who had been able to pull himself back together after his troubled skate at the Grand Prix Finals.
It is only when the ice began to sparkle due to the reflection of the rising sun that Yuuri was broken out of his reverie. That and the creak of the door opening to reveal Yakov Feltsman, Yuuri’s current pseudo coach. While Viktor had fully intended to simultaneously launch his comeback to figure skating while still coaching Yuuri, that had proven to be too difficult for the five time world champion so he’d had to move his comeback to the World Championships where he would be defending his title instead of his initial plan to return to skating at the European Championships. The prep for Viktor’s comeback was so consuming that he’d had to put his coaching duties on the back burner which resulted in Yakov picking up most of the slack.
“What are you doing here Katsuki? I thought I’d told you the last time, a little after hours training is fine, but if you spend the whole night skating I won’t let you back onto the rink until tomorrow.”
Yakov spoke without any of the usual bite that he would have utilized on any of his other skaters. The first time Yakov had reprimanded Yuuri, the skater hadn’t been able to look the coach in the eye for almost a week after, but they had both learned since then and Yakov now not only knew that Yuuri required a lighter hand than he would usually use; but also that any sort of comment was taken seriously by the Japanese skater, unlike his usual students. To be honest, Yuuri was pretty sure that he and Yakov had come to a sort of understanding, and while the coach was serious in his threat he also knew how much the older man valued these quiet mornings that had become somewhat of a habit for them.
“I-I’m sorry coach Yakov, but once I started I just couldn’t stop until I was done,” Yuuri blushed while he ducked his head into his chest.
By this point, as they had been working together for a little over a month, Yakov had arrived at the rink and been greeted with a few of the designs Yuuri had left the night before, but this was only the second time where he saw the skater himself still working. The coach looked from the skater to the ice and then silently walked out of the double doors only to appear a minute later on the second floor viewing deck where he’d be able to get a better vantage point. Once he reappeared on the viewing deck digital camera in hand, Yuuri scrambled to get off the ice and hastily put on his skate guards, too panicked to even take the time to remove his skates.
Yuuri didn’t mind showing others his designs. It was actually one of the few things he felt confident in, but had hadn’t been able to get a full view of this one yet and as it was one of his most ambitious, he knew full well that there was a big chance that it just looked like a mess of scratches over the ice with no rhyme or reason. He took the stairs two at a time and briefly thought about how embarrassing it would be to fall down and break something resulting in a career ending injury before firmly shutting out the thought before it began to spiral. Breaking through the doors at the top of the stairs, Yuuri held his breath as he approached the coach and the image that he had spent the whole night carving into the ice.
“You really shouldn’t have done this here.”
Yuuri immediately reddened and was about to start blubbering apologies but before he could begin Yakov continued his statement,
“The moment Viktor gets here he’s not going to let anyone even touch the ice for at least an hour. And while I typically would have said he was overreacting, this time I may just agree with him. This is really remarkable Yuuri, I’ve never seen anything like it.”
It was the use of his first name more than anything that had shocked him more than even the praise. The rest of the rink had adopted Yurio almost immediately after the first time they heard Viktor address the younger Yuri as such, but Yakov never had, instead opting to call Yuuri by the surname Katsuki instead. So Yuuri was still somewhat frozen when the coach gripped his shoulder and moved him towards the open balcony so he could see his creation. He almost did’t want to peer over the edge, all of a sudden remembering all the points where he got caught on his toepick or where his blade almost slipped out from under him, but he knew that he couldn’t avoid it forever.
When he finally mustered enough courage to look ever the edge, his breath caught. Even he couldn’t deny that the image below him was beautiful, though he did still see the little imperfections at the points where he could have made the image a little sharper, if only he could have had a cleaner edge during a turn, if only he could have landed more softly while hopping from one flower to another so as to not make a mark, if only he could have been a little better.
“I can practically see the gears moving in your head, stop thinking! Just look at it! Appreciate that this is something not many - to be honestly maybe even no other person on this earth can do. In all my years training skaters, I’ve never seen anyone else with either as much control or patience to be able to even be able to attempt something like this let alone pull it off.”
“Viktor could probably do it, if he really wanted to.”
“Viktor’s edges are shit compared to yours and you know it. He hides it well with enough drama and flair during his step sequences so the judges still give him high GOEs but he could never get the level of detail that you’ve achieved here.”
“He’s right you know! I’d never be able to do this, I’m pretty sure my ankles would snap if I try to make some of these lines. Oh, Yuuri! This is really spectacular! Beautiful! Your best yet! How can we preserve this? Yakov… do you think we could get a someone in to just… cut out the ice? You know what? I’m going to go check with the rink maintenance team.”
As quickly as Viktor had appeared, he disappeared again, going through the double doors to presumably find someone on the maintenance team. Yuuri then felt a wet nose nudge his hand and looked down to see Makkachin wearing the jacket Viktor and Yuuri put on him when they decided to bring the poodle with them for the duration of their training sessions.
“Like I said, you shouldn’t have done this here on the main rink. It probably would’ve been better if you had done this on one of the other training rinks so the idiot could come to the conclusion that it’s impossible to preserve something the size of olympic regulation skating rink on his own instead of me now having to try and make him see reason.” The coach grumbled, but it was clear from his tone of voice, which could almost be interpreted as fondness, that he wasn’t actually all that bothered by the turn of events.
As the coach lumbered towards the stairs, Yuuri looked over the edge again to see Viktor gesticulating wildly at one of the members of the rink maintenance team. If the shaking head of the maintenance man and the living legend’s increasingly crimson flush were any indication, the conversation wasn’t going well.
It turns out that no there was no feasible way for one to carve out the ice on an Olympic sized rink, let alone somehow preserve the ice itself once it was out of said rink. Viktor had also apparently toyed with the idea of filing the rink with some sort of putty or silicon to get a mold of the design but once Yakov heard that it would take a full 24 hours for any such material to fully harden, that idea was quickly nixed by the screaming of an irate coach. Yuuri realized that he would have to intervene once he saw Viktor’s eyes take on a determined gleam whereas Yakov’s gaze had bounced meaningfully between his star skater and the Zamboni.
Over the past month of cohabitation with Viktor, Yuuri had learned that it was actually quite simple to get his way with his fiancé. It simply took some very deliberate touches and a mix of puppy dog eyes - which had been perfected during his childhood as a headstrong boy with a dream of becoming one of the best figure skaters in the world against parents who simply wanted their son to take a break - with a hint of Eros that both Yuuri and Viktor knew no longer had anything to do with katsudon. So when Yuuri sidled up against Viktor he knew exactly what he had to do.
Yuuri sneaked his arms around Viktor’s waist, snuggled a bit into his shoulder and then looked up at him with wide eyes. He let himself just look at the perfect specimen in front of him for a second before he realized he had achieved his goal of getting Viktor’s attention and so he licked his lips before making his request.
“Viktor, why don’t we just take a few more pictures and the let the nice Zamboni driver do his job and resurface the ice? I did it once and maybe I can do it again, but don’t have to concentrate on World’s right now? Especially considering that we’ll be leaving in less than a month and you still haven’t gotten your step sequence down yet.”
He knew exactly what he was doing, he was throwing down the gauntlet. The fact of the matter was, in his months of light exercise and and almost nightly outings with either Minako or his father to the bar while in Hasetsu, Viktor had somewhat lost his edge… literally. Yakov hadn’t been kidding when he said that Viktor’s edges had been shit, especially lately and it annoyed the living legend to no end that Yakov had taken to making Yuuri - who should be the student in this situation - do demonstrations on how his step sequence should look instead of looking like ‘a newly born foal drunkenly wobbling around the ice’.
Viktor looked back at Yuuri with his own version look which looked decidedly less like he was making a simple request, and more like a man close to both tears and death, “But Yuuri! We must immortalize this masterpiece in some way! We can’t just let some random man wash away your art without another thought.”
With that they heard the rev of the Zamboni engine they turned to see Ivan, the Zamboni driver who had been with the rink since before Viktor had started training there, glare down at them and move at full speed towards the ice. Yuuri felt Viktor’s body tighten, as if he were about to break free from his grasp and throw himself in front of the path of the Zamboni, but before Viktor was able to make his move; Yuuri pushed himself up so that he was at his fiancé’s ear level and whispered, “If you let this go Viktor, I’ll be sure to make it worth your while when we get home tonight.” Though he immediately turned as red as a tomato for saying something so suggestive, especially in the presence of their coach, it had the intended effect as Viktor turned his attention wholly to Yuuri and simply stared slightly open mouthed, pupils dilating. During his moment of inattention, Yakov hurriedly motioned for the Zamboni driver to move onto rink so he could begin resurfacing the ice. The moment they heard the Zamboni hit the ice, Viktor turned back towards the rink and when he looked back at Yuuri he had honest to goodness tears in his eyes, “Yuuri, how could you do this to me? How could you this to the world? Depriving them of such beautiful art!”
“Don’t worry Viktor, I took pictures like I always do. I’ll give them to you if you actually give me your full attention during training today.”
“You always do this to me Yakov, I’m sure you come in early just so you can use these pictures to get me to do what you want.”
Yakov let out a long, shuddering sigh, “Viktor, it’s not like I’m asking anything of you that you wouldn’t be doing otherwise. We know that I’m the last person who wants to acknowledge it, but you’ve actually been pretty serious about your training since we’ve been back.”
Viktor blinked, surprised at the admission made by his longtime coach, “Yakov… I think this may have been the very first time you’ve ever actually complimented me in regards to my work ethic.”
“It’s difficult to give compliments when you’re usually working at either zero, where you half-ass your practices so much that a whole year of my novice workshops thought that you were just some crazy genius who never actually had to train and could still win gold, to one hundred like you second last season in the juniors when I had to admit you into the hospital just so you would take a break.”
Yuuri could actually remember that season. He had just started skating seriously, taking part in a few novice competitions in the region, but when he heard that Viktor was going to withdraw from the Junior Grand Prix due to health concerns he had been inconsolable and had a horrible season as a result. It was actually the first of the many times throughout his career where Yuuri had considered just quitting. While he had taken that first skating lesson because he wanted to stay friends with Yuuko and Takeshi, and later began skating competitively so he could chase his dream of one day meeting Viktor; the thing that had allowed him to weather season after season of a skating career that had always been somewhat ordinary - he had never been horrible except for his first grand prix final, but he had also never been anything special until he met Viktor - was his love of the sport.
So whenever he felt like he couldn’t go on anymore, when his stress and anxiety were at its peak, he would go to the rink and just skate. Not his programs, where he tried again and again and could only see the flaws, the failures. No, he would skate programs that he loved, programs that he knew demanded nothing less and perfection: Viktor’s programs. Every time, he was reminded of why he loved skating and the goal he was working towards. It had been what he was doing when he practised Stammi Vicino. He had decided that it was finally time to retire, to stop trying for a dream that just wasn’t going to happen for him. But, he hadn’t made the decision to quit due to his lack of love for the sport, it was simply that he was tired of the competition cycle. Stammi Vicino had been meant to be his own love letter to skating, his appreciation for the sport that had consumed his life, but it had turned out to be the call that had brought him his life and love.
Because that was the truth of it. Though people had told him again and again that maybe he shouldn’t compete, that he lacked the mental stamina to make it through the difficult season, he had done it again and again, season after season, and he became the top representative for his country. Most people hadn’t though him capable of it, but Yuuri Katsuki was a competitor through and through. Yuuri could have easily retired years ago, he could have quietly ended his middling competitive career and faded back into obscurity and moved back to Hastesu and worked at the hot springs. Or… he also had another… secret. Though he hadn’t even been on Viktor’s radar in terms of competition, that didn’t mean he had escaped the notice of the skating community at large. While most people had written his competitive career off, it seemed that those same people also saw how his basic skating skills and step sequences were almost second to none, and they had wanted to take advantage of that. After every season since entering the senior division, Celestino would tell him of the various teams that had wanted to take him on as a step coach or choreographer sure that he would retire after another season of not making it anywhere near the podium, but he would surprise them all by refusing them politely and firmly, communicating with no uncertain terms that he was most definitely not retiring and would continue to compete. What no one could seem to wrap their heads around - at least no one before Viktor - was that Yuuri Katsuki was a born competitor.
Yes, he was mentally weak. Yes, he had spent years watching as the figure skating world seemingly passed him, learning new jumps that he couldn’t even imagine successfully landing. Yes, most of the fans of the sport, and even his own fans used to him as the greatest example in the ever going debate of artistry versus technical prowess in figure skating. But none of that mattered in the face of the exhilaration that he felt when his blades hit the ice and he took off into the rink where he could only see what was directly in front of him, but he let his body and emotions take over. For those few minutes on the ice in competition, he could forget about the pain from the falls and injuries he had sustained in training, the lectures from Celestino about how his his free leg had been lagging during his landings, he could forget how everyone expected him to quit, and he could just… be. It had never been the competition that shook Yuuri Katsuki, it had been all the noise surrounding it.
He was brought out of his reverie by his silver haired fiancé turning to look at him a question in his eyes.
“Uhm… I’m sorry, what was that? I wasn’t paying too much attention.”
“I was simply telling Yakov again that he could have solved this years ago by simply scouting the promising young skater he saw in the juniors.”
Another thing that had come out in the course of training. It was widely known that Yakov Feltsman worked closely with the FFKK and trained exclusively Russian talent, but that didn’t mean that the man was completely blind to the talent abroad. He had always kept an eye on the novice and juniors to see if there was anyone that he thought showed promise and had actually toyed with the idea of recruiting Yuuri in his last season in the Juniors when he had won bronze at the JGPF. Yakov had decided not to due to his belief that the timid nature of the skater would stop him from leaving his own country for another, a belief which has been quickly shown to be false when the young Japanese skater signed with Celestino Cialdini and moved to the United States. If Yakov was being honest with himself, that had been one of the nails in the coffin when it came to his marriage to Lilia, she had told him that with the proper training he would be the best and though he agreed he hadn’t acted on that advice. It was just the last straw on the camel’s back, after years and years of ignored advice; two people had somehow gone from passionate lovers and artists to co-workers who barely listened to each other.
The skater with the glass heart they called him. It was funny in a way that Viktor had been the one to crack his own long frozen heart open, the one that he had sacrificed to the ice so long ago, and bring in the heat.
Yuuri Katsuki didn’t have many constants in life. But this new journey he was on, this life he was building for himself with Viktor…. He somehow knew that this would last forever.