Chapter Text
When Viktor Nikiforov was 16, he was already at the top of the world.
The record-breaking junior gold medalist in the Grand Prix Final. The brightest star in the figure skating world was on the rise, they said.
He had never heard of Yuuri Katsuki, 20 years old, a dime-a-dozen skater in the senior circuit, struggling to make a name for himself.
When Viktor Nikiforov was 18, he already had all colours of medals in competitions, was the favourite contestant for the GPF gold.
Yuuri Katsuki was 22, supposedly a worthy opponent, skated his personal worst in GPF, and disappeared for the rest of the season.
When Viktor Nikiforov was 20, he knew it was his year. He was ahead of all his competitors by such a margin, he was confident of victory on every gold that season.
Yuuri Katsuki, 24, mid-way to retirement, snatched the gold right in front of Viktor’s eyes, along with both records of single men’s short program and free skate.
Viktor lost all the gold of the season to Yuuri, including the Olympic.
When Viktor Nikiforov was 24, Yuuri Katsuki, 28, was, as some might claim, a living legend of figure skating.
He was the most decorated figure skater in history. No one but Viktor Nikiforov had ever come close to him, and Viktor only managed to steal gold from him once at Worlds, an occasion that one could certainly argue was more Katsuki’s own surprising inconsistency, than a true defeat by Viktor's hand.
Katsuki was going to continue his winning streak into the fifth GPF, when he was dethroned by a determined Viktor, and promptly retired, just as suddenly as he took the figure skating world by storm years ago.
When Viktor Nikiforov was 27, undefeated in the fourth year, Yuuri Katsuki, 31 years old, had all but disappeared from the figure skating world.
When Viktor Nikiforov is 28, he is the living legend of figure skating.
He is also tired, bored, and has lost all inspiration.
When Viktor Nikiforov is 28, he finds Yuuri Katsuki in an obscure Japanese seaside town called Hasetsu, teaching teenagers hip hop and singing off-key to music blasting from a loudspeaker in a nondescript dance studio.
“Most of them are professionals and college students, not teenagers.” Katsuki corrects him.
Viktor doesn’t think he's to blame for not being able to tell people’s ages here. Yuuri Katsuki, in his baggy trousers and oversized T-shirt, manages to look younger than when Viktor last saw him years ago (granted, it was in suit and tie).
“How come you're here, Nikiforov-san?” Katsuki has collected his things, now peeking at Viktor curiously.
“It’s quite easy to reach here from Fukuoka, and people here are pretty helpful in giving directions.” That doesn’t answer the real question, of course, “a Japanese skater I ran into at the banquet, Miami? mentioned we're close to your hometown and Hasetsu is ‘an excellent destination for a post-Worlds vacation’ and that I should visit.”
“Ah, Minami, Minami Kenjirou, of course it’s him,” Katsuki shakes his head in fond amusement.
“So, are you staying in Hasetsu, Nikiforov-san?”
Turns out Viktor is staying at Katsuki’s family business, the only accommodation in Hasetsu.
It's a little strange and bewildering, seeing Katsuki himself run around and bring Viktor dishes and towels, and then sit down across from him at the table.
The truth is, Viktor came to Hasetsu on a whim. When the World Championship ended, he simply didn't feel like going back to St Petersburg, where his spacious, modern home rink, and his posh, bright, and very empty apartment are. Now without Makkachin.
Why not go search for The Great and Mysterious Yuuri Katsuki, when the information is so conveniently thrust onto him, after years of nothing?
And Minami Kenjirou was very enthusiastic and very helpful in buying him train tickets. “I'll go with you myself if I can! But I think Odagaki-san - my coach - is going to kill me if I do it again.”
Viktor belatedly realises, Yuuri Katsuki, or Katsuki Yuuri as the locals call him, isn't that mysterious here at all.
It’s just that he's no longer active in the international figure skating world, and keeps an (extremely) low profile.
Viktor never thought of looking him up beyond listening half-heartedly to passing conversations among competitors. But if you dig deeper into some Japanese fan accounts and use Google Translate properly, you would probably know post-retirement Katsuki Yuuri went on to finish a dance major he suspended in early twenties, and now works as a dance instructor and choreographer in this quaint little town, where he happened to grow up.
Viktor now feels a little bit stupid, and not a little bit embarrassed.
He has barged into a former competitor’s home unceremoniously, but he doesn’t actually know Katsuki well (except for his skating, he knows that very well), and now knows not what to say.
Despite competing against Katsuki for years, and being his supposedly greatest challenger, Viktor hasn't had many interactions with him beyond brief exchanges on the podium and at banquets. Katsuki Yuuri was always polite, but mostly kept to himself, and their conversation usually exhausted itself within five minutes; he never seemed interested in Viktor enough to approach him or to carry more burden of their conversation either.
Some of the younger competitors were pretty intimidated by Katsuki, with his infamous Rink-side GlareTM, but Viktor figured after a while: it was more likely because of a bad eyesight (and Katsuki’s resting bitch solemn face).
Currently, Katsuki was looking at Viktor with kind eyes behind his thick glasses, and making polite conversation.
“I think I haven’t said it to you, Nikiforov-san. Congratulations on your fifth consecutive win! You're truly an extraordinary skater.”
“Thank you, Katsuki-san.” Viktor imitates the other man. He needs to use his trademark charm a bit more to survive this encounter.
“Really, just Viktor is fine. When you use my last name I feel like Yakov is going to jump right through the door and scream at me in a split second.”
That earns him a laugh, “ah okay, then you must call me Yuuri.”
Thankfully, both of them soon finish their dishes, and Ka-, no, Yuuri picks up their plates and cleans the table, giving them a perfect excuse to end the exchange.
Staying at Yu-topia is surprisingly enjoyable.
The onsen is a godsend to his tired muscles, and the Katsuki's food is fantastic. Viktor says thanks to Minami in his mind; it is a good destination for a well-earnt post-Worlds vacation. The best thing, however, is that the family also owns a dog; better yet, it’s a poodle, like his Makkachin. He’s very cute, and very friendly too.
“Akari is 8 years old now, not really a puppy. But he’s still a baby, isn’t you, boy?”
Yuuri scratches the red toy poodle, who yips happily. Every dog-owner’s favourite topic is dogs; Viktor knows the key to running a conversation with Katsuki Yuuri now.
“How old is your Makkachin?”
“She passed away two years ago.” Viktor is always happy to share her photos though, and they spend a few minutes going through his folder of her.
Yuuri reciprocates by sharing his folder of Akari, and a toy poodle before him, “Vicchan passed away in my last year in Detroit.” It's obviously a painful topic; the now hollow, but always present grief in Viktor's chest resonates with Yuuri's sadness.
Viktor prefers hearing about the other dog. Yuuri didn't initially wanted him (it felt like a betrayal to Vicchan, says he.) But Yuuko, his girlfriend at that time, surprised him with Akari on his birthday, of which he was eventually very grateful.
Viktor only nods at that. It still feels too early after Makkachin.
Katsuki Yuuri is an enigma.
He obviously still follows skating news, and enjoys watching competitions and performances; he's still sort of in touch with the skating community (albeit mostly Japanese figure skaters under his last coach).
As far as Viktor can tell, there isn’t any lasting injuries that keeps him off ice, either.
Viktor wonders why Yuuri disappears from the skating world so completely after retirement.
It doesn’t seem to be his place to ask, although Viktor finds they actually get along after a few days, surprisingly.
Yuri Plisetsky and Yakov are wondering what he's doing in the middle of nowhere in Japan.
Really, it’s perfectly reasonable for him to be on vacation right after the World Championship. “I found the Yuuri Katsuki ’s family hotel!” he informs them cheerfully, and evades all questions about his further plan. “I'm staying here. They have a red poodle! You know me, I'm not leaving such a cute baby so soon!”
Yuuri also asks, though.
Viktor guesses he sees it coming, him idling around the garden yet another day.
“Are you getting rid of me so soon? I'm hurt--!” Dropping to Yu-topia’s floor, Viktor whines dramatically, to Yuuri’s laughter.
“Haha, no worries, Viktor. We don’t really have that much business these days, you know.”
There's only so much time one can pass wandering around the tiny town before getting bored again. Viktor finds an ice rink near the onsen, but he doesn't feel like going in.
He invites himself to Yuuri’s dance lessons instead.
It’s strangely both surprising and unsurprising that Yuuri’s lessons are reasonably priced.
An Olympic champion skater can charge much, much more, for even a children’s skating class, but of course, Katsuki Yuuri is teaching random young people dancing in a studio instead. Jazz, today.
“I'm a paying student,” Viktor puts up both hands and says pre-emptively, when Yuuri raises his eyebrows at him entering the class.
Viktor can feel other students’ eyes on him. He's the only (unfortunately rare) foreigner here, he's very behind in progress (it’s the middle of a teaching series), he knows nothing about Jazz, and he understands none of Yuuri’s instructions (they're in Japanese).
Yuuri is definitely laughing when he turns back to adjust the music.
“Will I see Jazz-inspired choreography on ice next season?” He teases when other students are gone. Viktor tries once more, futilely, to run through the short routine.
Katsuki Yuuri is also a beast on the dance floor.
He's formally trained, well-versed in multiple styles, graduated with distinction from the ___ University two years ago, as his alma mater’s website proudly proclaims.
Viktor guesses his fees are well spent, and Yakov doesn't need to worry about him "slacking off halfway around the world off-season", when he's being properly tortured in Yuuri’s studio.
“It’s my old ballet instructor’s studio, actually. She only ever takes ballet prodigies, you know. But there aren’t that many students for her around here these days, and she doesn’t want to move. Other types of dance are more popular among young people, so it’s mostly me here now."
"Have you been to the snack bar around the corner yet? You can find Minako-sensei there after 4 p.m.” Yuuri offers, “If you need ballet lessons when you're here, she must be very happy to teach you. She's a big fan of you, actually".
Apparently Minako Okukawa is also very strict. Don’t say Yuuri hasn't warned him.
She can’t be worse than Lilia, thinks the Russian living legend. But he isn’t very keen on keeping up his training when he’s on vacation, honestly.
Those modern dances are actually quite fun once he becomes more familiar with them. Viktor is also a natural, you see.
Viktor tries to imagine Yakov’s face if he brings break-dancing on ice - is that even possible? - little Yuri will probably welcome the idea. A lot.
After a while, Viktor stops answering Yakov’s calls, and Yuuri stops asking Viktor about check-out dates.
Viktor is The Regular at Yu-topia now.
Other regulars stop staring at him when he goes through the hall.
He follows Hiroko (Yuuri's mother) into the kitchen, but isn't allowed to touch anything (he's guilty of several cooking disasters). Toshiya (Yuuri's father) laughs at his attempt at folding towels.
Mari (Yuuri's younger sister) offers him cigarettes then takes them back. “Athletes, sorry, I forgot”. Akari (the poodle cutie) sometimes sleeps in his room.
Viktor has taken to walk with Yuuri on the beach sometimes. Neither speaks much. At these times, Viktor appreciates the reticence of the other man, something his younger self would probably be very confused about.
It's surprisingly easy to tell the truth to an uninterested (but knowledgeable of the context, conveniently) party.
He admits he doesn’t have any plans after the season.
It’s unusual for him to not have developed something for the next season this time of the year, but, he confesses.
“I guess…I kind of lost inspiration? I don’t know what I'm going to do next.”
The silence stretches. Viktor stares ahead at the quickly wilting sakura flowers afar.
“Are you…thinking of retiring?”
“You retired at 28, didn't you? I'm the same age now.”
“True.” Yuuri agrees, but continues, “you're not injured though. You still have one or two years in you.”
Viktor was surprised. “You were injured in your last GPF?”
“I sprained my ankle in my last FS,” Yuuri scratches his head embarrassedly. “But no, it wasn’t anything serious. It was actually my knees; the quads are hard on them. I was never as good at the technicals, you know.”
Katsuki Yuuri was most regarded for his artistry, but he was still one of the most technically proficient skaters. Viktor is usually considered the more technically perfect one, though. Yuuri is probably referring to that.
“I wasn’t supposed to skate past that season, It’s just that it ended early.”
One of the popular theories was Yuuri retired because of the silver; now that Viktor thinks of it, it doesn’t seem something Katsuki Yuuri would do, at all.
“Is that why you teach on the dance floor but not on ice?”
“Partly, yeah.”
No elaboration follows. Viktor takes it as the cue not to pursue the topic, and lets it drop.
Yuuri is going to Fukuoka next week, and offers to let Viktor tag along.
“My former coach asked me to help with the training for a few days. I figure you might want to come? Hmm, their rink is much better than ours. You will be more comfortable there. Takeshi says you haven’t been skating much at the Ice Castle. Oh! Minami - you know each other, right? - also trains there.”
Viktor doesn’t have much to do. Yuuri is the most interesting thing around here (“I'm not that interesting? ” comes the protest).
So Yuuri does coach, Viktor notes.
Yuuri insists he knows little about coaching, though, and hopes he doesn't hold back upcoming talents with his amateur effort. He's happy to help his houkai modify their step sequences, of course, it’s the least he can do.
He thinks they're all doing great, only need a few tweaks here and there, nothing major.
“Nikiforov-san, what do you think?”
The skaters are turning to Viktor now. Or rather, they've been waiting to do so for a while, judging by their not-subtle staring when he walks in in the middle of Yuuri’s coaching.
“Yuuri is the expert on step sequences, really. You shouldn’t be asking me,” he winks at them, showing his toothpaste-ad-worthy teeth. Yuuri rolls his eyes.
“But Yuuri-kun is always too nice!” Minami (Viktor isn't misremembering his name now) whines like a 15-year-old.
Viktor has been mostly appreciating Yuuri’s step sequences by the rink (he's not to blame; it's been years since he last saw them in person), not assuming himself to have any coaching responsibility, so he has to make up something on the fly.
Yuuri nods and thanks him; he must not be too off the mark then.
The skaters disperse to practice again.
“You're so much better at explaining and coaching than me! Although it's my step sequence, oops.”
Viktor is sure Yuri Plisetsky has something to say about that, but he agrees he's the one with better command of words between him and Yuuri, even with language barriers.
And Yuuri is being too nice. He should use his attitude in the dance studio.
“It’s different,” the current sensei counters, “I was trained teaching it, and I, ah, copy Minako-sensei, sometimes, hehe.”
Since Viktor is a good coach, Yuuri announces to the rink, you should all seize the opportunity when he’s here to ask for pointers.
Half of the skaters are then unceremoniously handed over to Viktor. They all beg Viktor to show them his quads and help with theirs, because Yuuri is “not good at jumps and really, has nothing to teach.”
Viktor sends Yuuri a playful glare, but is (not so secretly) pleased being showered by praises and attention. He is vain, as everyone knows.
The other day finds the front door of the skating club swarmed by reporters.
Viktor has somehow forgotten about their existence, numbed by their absence in Hasetsu (probably due to his voluntary social media silence; now that you think of it, it's really extraordinary for Viktor Nikiforov ).
Yuuri disappears magically before the reporters see them, with some frantic words and gestures at Viktor that generally mean I-am-not-here and you-haven’t-seen-me-anywhere, so Viktor is entrusted with the task of charming the reporters away on his own.
Apparently one of the younger skaters posted something in excitement. (He thought the no-media rule only applied to Yuuri-kun. He was admonished and regretful, coach Odagaki says in her call to apologise.)
Some vague explanation on Viktor's part (he's being a tourist, ran into some fellow skaters, so they skated together a bit) luckily satisfies the reporters to leave him alone. Japan isn't immune to Viktor's charm either, you see.
When they're back at the hotel, Viktor allows himself to probe.
“I didn’t realise you have a no-media rule. Is that why no one comes in Hasetsu? You're lucky that I didn’t post anything there.”
“Ah sorry…umm don’t worry. They know I'm in Hasetsu? There's nothing new for them to report there. I'm pretty old news.” Yuuri apologises unnecessarily, as he does. “I, umm, don’t have a good relationship with the media? I was very guarded with them most of my competitive career -- I was the famously ‘no comment’ Yuuri -- if you remember.” He grimaced at that part.
Viktor does remember, and nods to encourage Yuuri to continue.
“I generally disliked their interest in my personal life. I never saw the need for them to know anything about it, you know? But I learned too late that it's probably better to let them have something you decide to give them, rather than let them have nothing at all, because then they become too hungry for any ‘scoop’.”
Haltingly, Yuuri gives Viktor the story about the media shitstorm surrounding Yuuri’s only ex-partner in public knowledge, Toyomura Yuuko, unfortunately also a well-known figure skater, only of slightly less news value than Yuuri.
They were childhood friends, training partners, and later the power couple of Japanese figure skating.
A stable relationship for many years, Yuuri says, until Yuuko retired in injury at 26.
The relationship didn't survive the lengthy separation afterwards, between a top figure skater with crazy schedules and a mature college student’s struggle with studying abroad. It came to an amicable end and they remained good friends, but to Yuuri’s regret, they didn't see the necessity to inform the public at that time. When Yuuko’s marriage to an actor made news (unavoidably, in retrospect) it was a feast for the vultures.
Stories of romantic drama, betrayal, infidelity and more ridiculous nature were speculated wildly in big and small news. The privacy and reputation of the three of them, along with their friends and family, were taken to pieces. For that, Katsuki Yuuri unwisely lashed out at the media and earned their anger, plunging everyone into an even deeper and longer controversy, to the chagrin of their PR teams.
“So,” he shrugs, a half-hearted attempt at nonchalance, “I avoid the media at all costs now? Nothing good happens when I run into them ever since. I guess I'm just bad at it." A pause, "I get really anxious.” He admits quietly.
“I hope you don’t mind me abandoning you this morning. I kind of...panicked? And I thought, you've always been really good with them, no?” So Viktor has. He's glad to help. And maybe Yuuri can hire him for PR, another career choice for Viktor after retiring.
That successfully lightens the mood. They move on to reminisce about other aspects of Yuuri’s skating career, to the benefit of Viktor’s curiosity.
It’s a week after they returned from Fukuoka. Viktor is sitting on the dance floor, drinking his much-needed post-Yuuri-torture water.
He notices Yuuri looking at him thoughtfully.
“What is it, Yuuri-sensei ?” Viktor wants little stickers for his Jazz moves coming along beautifully this week.
“You still don’t have any programs for the next season?” Oh.
Nope. There’s still time, though.
Yakov isn’t that mad yet. (You blocked him, Yuuri helpfully points out).
He thought Yuuri gave up on nagging him a while ago. But Yuuri is hesitating over his words, and Viktor knows in these occasions it’s better to just wait him out, so he waits.
Viktor has almost forgotten about this yet another there-is-something-the-enigmatic-Katsuki-Yuuri-wants-to-say-but-doesn’t incident, when the enigma himself approaches him at night.
“I know you usually skate alone, but do you want to come to the Ice Castle with me today? I have something to show you.”
Yuuri usually skates in some weird hours when the rest of the world, including Viktor, is long asleep, or not yet awake, so this is a first.
They run to the rink together, turn on enough lights to see the edge, and start to warm up.
“There're two programs - actually, more like one and a half programs - unfinished - I used to work on before I retired. I don’t really know what to do with them - so, tell me what you think?”
The first one is elegant, ethereal, deceivingly flowing with intricate footwork that's going to trip the less-suspicious twenty times - Katsuki Yuuri through and through - and Viktor thinks of mythical creatures (whose names he probably should but never bothered to remember in class) dancing on water.
This one is quite complete; has some room for polish, maybe.
The second one is obviously unfinished. Viktor doesn’t grasp a consistent character throughout. It seems like Yuuri never makes up his mind on what persona he wants to put on in this program. He's joyful and angelic one moment, dark and brooding another, crazed and tortured at some points.
It’s mesmerizing, however, and Viktor thinks he recognises bits and pieces of it.
“Is it an earlier version of Yuri on Ice ?”
Yuri on Ice is Katsuki Yuuri’s free skate at his last GPF. He broke his own FS record with that. Katsuki Yuuri's last program and last glory.
“I guess you can say so. But I ended up going for a very different theme. It was - this was - supposed to be - a swan song, I guess it’s the word.”
“Why show them to me?”
Yuuri actually becomes a bit shy at that question - Viktor tries to remember Katsuki Yuuri is 32, not 23.
“I think…maybe, you might be interested? To have them. For the next season, I mean. If you still need a program. Or two. Something to start with?”
Viktor blinks at that. That's -- unexpected.
Katsuki Yuuri is an excellent choreographer. His works are the perfect combination of athleticism and artistry; the former blending so naturally into the latter, it’s difficult to turn his programs into simplified versions for younger skaters to attempt. But, Katsuki Yuuri also never choreographs for other skaters -- well, considering he dropped completely off the radar right after retirement, he probably never had the chance to, if before that (and it’s quite likely) he was too busy with his own ones during competing.
Any skater will be extremely honoured to have Katsuki Yuuri choreograph for them.
The skater will also be terribly challenged by Katsuki Yuuri’s choreography.
It’s a challenge.
Viktor loves a challenge.
He didn’t know, but he's been looking forward to one for ages.