Chapter Text
Soulmates: individuals connected on a spiritual level, able to communicate with variable degrees of empathy or telepathy.
Soulmates, especially the strongest ones, were the stuff of legends. Some of the best-known love stories were about soulmates. In reality, they were rare. When they existed, the connection was often so weak that it was negligible. It tended to fluctuate: depending on the life path you were on, your affinity could grow or diminish. It wasn’t set in stone. Furthermore, since it depended on an individual’s spiritual abilities, it was unequal: a soulmate could sometimes communicate easily with the other and not receive much in exchange. It tended to put a strain on the relationship.
All in all, soulmates weren’t exactly what fairytales advertised.
To realize you had one was unexpected. To realize it was your idol was mindblowing.
It started progressively, when Yuuri was around ten.
He felt strange mood swings. Usually, he was feeling sad, anxious, or nervous and suddenly it was replaced by different degrees of elation, mischievousness, passion, or even love. It lasted a few minutes, took his breath away, and suddenly he was back to normal. It was really strange and it became worse and worse as time passed by.
Some mood swings startled him so badly that he burst into tears as soon as they ended. The backlash was terrible and those who witnessed it often thought him weird for it. Apart from Yuuko’s support and comfort, it just brought him insults and jeers.
At thirteen, it distracted him and disturbed his daily life so much that he finally mentioned it to his parents. They immediately went to the doctor.
“That sounds a little like a bipolar disorder,” the old man commented, “but it’s rare before puberty and your episodes are too short to fit… I’ll send you to a specialist.”
The psychiatrist listened and asked a lot of questions about Yuuri’s life in general, and school in particular when he finally mentioned the light bullying he was used to. It was extremely uncomfortable, but she was patient and understanding.
When she asked his mother to come back inside, she explained calmly: “I believe these mood swings are due to a high level of empathy. However, since we ascertain together that those moods didn’t correspond to anyone in his immediate vicinity at those times, it’s possible — and I say this with all the appropriate caution — that those moods swings are due to a soulbond.”
“I… I thought those weren’t real,” Yuuri stammered.
“Oh, they’re perfectly real. Rare but real. It’s estimated that one person out of ten will feel at least one soulbond at some point in their life. It’s not much spoken about because most of those people will lose the connection rather quickly afterward.”
“So, it will go away?” Yuuri’s mother asked tentatively.
The psychiatrist shook her head slightly. “I can’t say for sure. It’s rare for a bond to develop so early in life — apart from siblings — and, from what Yuuri said, it’s at least a few years old. It sounds to me like it might continue. Nothing is ever certain about soulbonds. They’re as fickle as two lives woven together can be.”
She recommended meditation to help him control his empathy. There was nothing else to do.
Yuuri kept this secret. If he lost the connection, he didn’t want anyone else than his family to know and pity him.
He sometimes daydreamed about his soulmate. Who were they? Clearly, they seemed like a cheerful person for all the positive feelings they made him feel. What made them so happy? What did they like to do? They were supposed to have something in common for the bond to form despite the fact they had never met. Did they skate maybe? or dance ballet? Did they like good food, like him?
Yuuri was curious. The mood swings didn’t feel scary anymore. They were a blessing. He learned to take them in stride, to let them brighten his mood rather than make him feel abnormal. He wasn’t as jittery anymore. The people around him reacted accordingly. He was bullied less. Takeshi stopped looking at him like he was weird and behaved more like a friend.
His skating felt the effects: he breezed through the national competitions and even tried his hand at the international. He didn’t go far, but still.
His fourteenth year was good for him.
oOo
At sixteen, he had the revelation.
Watching Viktor Nikiforov had always been a great pleasure. To see him perform live was an experience he could never get tired of. He even stayed up late or woke up early to watch if he had to. The performance moved him so much more when it was live. He could literally taste it, as if he was right there by Viktor’s side, or as if he was the one skating those incredible routines. It was an indescribable feeling.
When he was sixteen, the World Championship happened in Europe. Viktor’s Free Skate was scheduled in the middle of the afternoon. It was midnight in Japan. Yuuri watched it on the family’s laptop, lying in bed on his stomach, hidden under a blanket. Vicchan was already sleeping by his side.
At twenty, Viktor was the favorite. He had won silver last year in this competition, but he had won gold at the Grand Prix Final a few months earlier. Commentators liked to say that he was at the peak of his career.
He was ranked first after his Short Program, and Yuuri was extremely excited to see him perform. He already knew his routine by heart. He had seen it at the Grand Prix and at the European Championship. He had watched it again and again after that.
Viktor took his starting pose and the first notes of music sounded out. Yuuri watched with half-closed eyes the sensual dance.
As a theme, Viktor had opted for a declaration of love to the ice. This was about his passion. This was a love story for his trade, about giving it all, a sheer gift of oneself, an absolute abandon. To express it, he had prepared the most difficult program of his career. He had three quads planned, including a quad flip.
Yuuri could feel all those emotions as if they were his. It enthralled him. It was overwhelming. All he could do was to go with it, to let the emotions flow through him, to accept them, and to embrace them.
He was there, by Viktor’s side, and he went through the familiar motions he had worked on at the ice rink, when he was all alone. He hadn’t managed the quads but who cared? He was flying over the ice, carried by the intensity of Viktor’s performance and passion. His arms were curving perfectly, to the slightest move of the fingers. He was spinning and spiraling. He was right there, flowing over the ice for the step sequence in perfect timing. He imagined himself managing the incredible jumps Viktor was able to perform. Until the very end. Until the final pose, kneeling on the ice. His beloved mistress, hard to master but oh! how so rewarding!
Yuuri opened his eyes, breathless, his face squashed against the pillow. He straightened his head and adjusted his glasses on his nose, staring at the screen. There was a loud silence coming from his earphones. Where they unplugged? No, no, they seemed alright…
“I have no words,” the commentator said suddenly. “The whole ice rink has no words to express what just happened here.”
The camera was showing Viktor panting, still kneeling on the ice, looking dazed. Then it turned to the public who started applauding slowly. The applause increased, and the audience stood up. There were no shouts, no screams, just a standing ovation.
“Look at this. God, look at this. Everything has stopped around the ice for a few minutes. The other competitors are here. Do you see them? This is Christophe Giacometti right here, applauding with the public, and I think… yes, he’s crying. Well, to tell you the truth, I am too. I have never seen anything like this.”
The screen parted between the reactions of the public and a replay of the best moments of Viktor’s performance. At least, that’s what they were supposed to do, but they ended up playing most of the second half of the routine.
That’s when Yuuri understood what this was all about. Right here, hovering a few centimeters above Viktor, there was a glowing silhouette following his every move, like a shadow… no… like a double, like how Yuuri saw the world that time when his glasses were broken.
It was blurred, but it was shining. The longer Viktor skated and the stronger it looked, until, at the very end, he seemed wrapped in a shimmery aura.
“There is a rumor going around here, in the commentators' booth,” the Japanese commentator was saying, “that this was an astral projection. Do you know what it means? I think you do. Ladies and gentlemen, we witnessed something exceptional here tonight. Viktor didn’t only perform his best and most incredible routine to date, no... he also performed it in perfect combination with his soulmate ! The astral projection of his soulmate was right there with him, with us!”
On screen, Viktor was shown slowly standing up. He looked around him, as if only remembering where he was, and it took him a few seconds before his lips stretched in a blinding grin. He raised his hands to the ceiling, and the crowd finally erupted in deafening cheers and screams, as if they hadn’t dare interrupt his contemplation before being sure he was fully back with them. A veritable shower of flowers and gifts were thrown at him. Viktor spun around and waved with a brilliant smile for everyone, his long hair wiping around excitedly.
Yuuri watched absent-mindedly, as his idol left the ice rink with an armful of roses and threw himself in his coach’s arms. It took them a minute of hugging and talking excitedly before they went to the kiss and cry.
Instead of sitting still to wait for his score, Viktor stepped forward to better be seen by the camera and made a heart shape with his hands, right over his chest, before bringing the tip of his fingers to his lips and blowing a kiss to the camera.
Yuuri was suddenly overwhelmed by a love so deep and pure that a stream of tears slid down his cheeks. He was helpless to stop it, he could only bury his face in a tissue and stare at the screen despite the blur it had become.
He heard distantly the results. Viktor had just blown every world record, hands down. There were still two skaters to go, but the gold was undoubtedly spoken for.
Yuuri didn’t watch the rest. He removed the earphones, closed the laptop, rolled in the sheets, and stared at the ceiling.
Viktor Nikiforov was his soulmate.
Yuuri had just performed an astral projection — the highest, hardest form of telepathy and manifestation of a soulbond.
That had happened.
Here and now.
He had done that.
Wow.
Alright…
He’ll process that later. Like, tomorrow.
Right now… oh, wow, Viktor was really really happy, and full of love, and glee, and delight… How could one human being feel so much, so strongly?!
Yuuri stifled his smile and a giggle in his blanket then he promptly burst into happy tears once again.
He might need a few more tissues.
Or not, because Vicchan woke up and licked his tears with a questioning whine.
oOo
Viktor had never been shy about his soulbond. He had talked about it since his Senior debut, admitting that he always felt like the bond was at its strongest when he was on the ice.
Yuuri knew this like he knew everything public about Viktor.
He had never imagined this was about him.
In the days following the World Championship, Viktor’s performance and the astral projection of his soulmate created a huge buzz. Even those who weren’t interested in figure skating heard about it. It was worthy of a fairytale story. People loved those.
Journalists and specialists speculate about Viktor’s soulbond. How strong was it? How extraordinary this event had been? Who was his soulmate?
It was extremely embarrassing to listen to their theories but, considering he had kept his revelation quiet, he didn’t have much choice: Yuuko absolutely wanted to talk about it with him.
“They say that his soulmate is probably a figure skater too, to be able to perform the same choreography as Viktor! A really talented one, with training in empathy and telepathy to be able to do the astral projection,” she said excitedly.
Yuuri wasn’t trained. He meditated and read a few books on the subject, nothing more. He wasn’t a very talented skater either.
“She’s probably older than him, to do so well!”
Oh, yeah, and he wasn’t older or a girl either (even if he regretted that some days).
At that, he couldn’t help but point out to Yuuko (only because she was his friend, he wouldn’t have dared to do it with anyone else choosing the heteronormative option): “What makes you think it’s a girl?”
She hesitated and raised a hand to her chin. “You’re right, it could be a man. There are all kinds of soulmates after all. It’s not necessarily romantic.”
“And if it is?” He asked in a small voice. He didn’t even consider that detail. The discovery was still too new to wonder what kind of relationship they would develop if they ever met.
“Well… If it is, I’m sure they’ll make a really cute couple!” Yuuko stated with a cheerful clap of her hands.
Yuuri relaxed slightly and smiled at his friend. He was tempted to tell her everything but, really, he was still doubting himself a little too much to talk about it with anyone.
He tried to avoid most discussions about Viktor’s soulbond, because it tended to make him even more insecure. Yuuko backed him in a corner when she showed him an interview of Viktor:
“Viktor, we know what we saw when you performed, but what did you feel at that moment?” The reporter asked.
“Loved. Understood. Like I was baring my soul to the world and someone answered with a protective embrace. It was the most beautiful thing I ever felt,” Viktor replied with a soft smile and tender eyes.
Yuuri’s heart beat in his ears as he watched Viktor’s expression. He looked radiant and at peace.
“What kind of person do you think your soulmate is?”
Viktor gave a lopsided smile to the camera. “Someone I’d love with all my heart.”
No speculations. No theories. Just acceptance.
Yuuri pulled his collar higher to hide the light flush spreading over his cheeks.
“Is there a message you’d like to send him?”
“I’m impatient to meet you, zolotse,” (N/A: 'my gold') Viktor said to the camera, kissing his gold medal as he pronounced the last word. “This is yours as much as mine. Thank you so much for this wonderful experience.” And he winked.
Yuuri could have combusted.
“Isn’t he cute?” Yuuko squealed, hugging Yuuri tightly.
He only managed to squeak in reply.
His soulmate was the most wonderful figure skater and his idol. How did you deal with that?
You didn’t.
oOo
Ignoring the problem was a perfectly valid method.
What was he supposed to do anyway? Go to Russia, look for Viktor, and say: “hi, you don’t know me but I’m your soulmate”?
Nope. Not gonna happen.
Everyone was convinced that Viktor’s soulmate was a really good figure skater, or maybe a dancer. That was Yuuri’s goal before even thinking of approaching his soulmate: reaching a decent level, to be at least half the figure skater Viktor was.
To do so, Yuuri left Japan at eighteen years old and went to train in Detroit with Celestino Cialdini.
When he reached twenty, the same age that Viktor had been when he shook the world with what was now called “The Soulful Performance”, fate decided to play with him.
Viktor was sent to the NHK Trophy by the drawing lots.
Yuuri was invited by the Japanese Skating Federation.
They were going to compete for the first time, on Yuuri’s home turf.
He might die of a panic attack before that happened.
He hadn’t planned for these circumstances at all!
He wasn’t ready yet!
That’s what he was still thinking about ten minutes before the warm-up for the Short Program.
He knew that Yuuko, his mother, and Minako-sensei had all made the trip to Osaka to cheer him on and meet him afterward.
A lot of people were also counting on him to honor their country, since he was currently the highest-ranking Japanese skater.
And then there was Viktor…
Yuuri had already caught a few glimpses of him, always from afar. In fact, right now he was stretching against a wall, a dozen meters away from Yuuri, who was supposed to be doing the same.
Something wasn’t right.
This was the closest they had ever been. Yuuri could feel the difference it made for his empathy. When before he only felt Viktor’s strongest moods, right now he was a constant sensation at the back of his mind. And he didn’t feel right. He felt almost… apathetic.
“So, you noticed it too, uh?”
Yuuri jumped and glanced over his shoulder to his other side.
Christophe Giacometti was leaning against the wall behind him, with his arms crossed. He was staring at Viktor with a frown. “He’s not in the right mindset today. He’ll screw up for sure if he goes on the ice like that. It’s only the start of the season but still, it’s unusual for him.”
Yuuri stared at Viktor’s impassive face, feeling uneasy. “Why do you think he’s like that?”
Chris sighed and shook his head. “It has been four years.”
Yuuri glanced at him with a raised eyebrow, confused.
“Four years since The Soulful Performance, and he hasn’t met his soulmate yet,” Chris explained. “No more astral visits either.”
Yuuri hadn’t been able to do it again. Not because he didn’t want to, but because the circumstances didn’t allow him to. Firstly, he hadn’t been able to watch every show. Secondly, he had rarely been alone when he could. Thirdly, he needed to be in a safe place and in a good mindset to even try.
“Y-you think that’s the problem?”
“Oh, yeah. We talked about it once, when he was drunk. I won’t share, but believe me, that’s the problem. It’s only getting worse as time passed by.” Chris shook his head and sighed. “What a pity… Well, I suppose it’s an opportunity for everyone else. Good luck, Yuuri. Show your country what you’re made of.” He left with a pat on the shoulder.
Viktor and Yuuri weren’t in the same warm-up group. A draw had put Yuuri in the second position to skate while Viktor was second from the last.
Yuuri had no idea what to do.
Viktor’s sluggish mood was catching.
Slowly, as he warmed up on the ice, Yuuri’s nerves had disappeared, replaced by an absence of feelings that wasn’t much better. Yes, it might spare him from messing up his jumps, but how was he supposed to skate without emotions? His routine and his whole style relied on it. He might not be technically perfect, but he was expressive. That was supposed to be his forte, and Viktor was messing it up!
When he left the ice to leave the first skater to perform, Yuuri was annoyed… but not annoyed at himself, like he was familiar with, annoyed at Viktor, which was a first. So, what did he do? He went to sit down on the ground in a corner, with a perfect view on Viktor and his coach a few meters away. He told Celestino that he was going to meditate (his coach was familiar with the process and was the guardian of his space), closed his eyes, focused on his own feelings, and threw them at Viktor through their bond.
The result reminded him of a pinball.
Yuuri opened one eye, just enough to glance at Viktor.
The Russian had jumped on his feet and looked around, wide-eyed, ignoring the questions of his startled coach. Gone was the apathy, suddenly he was surprise, bewilderment, elation, and giddiness personified. He grinned and looked around once again before grabbing his coach by the shoulders and saying something excitedly in his native language followed by “They’re here!” in English.
Yuuri tilted his head down to hide a smile.
To have been able to elicit such a response with so little… He suddenly felt powerful, so powerful.
When his coach warned him his time had come, Yuuri stood up confidently. He could do this.
And he did.
His choreographies this season were on the theme of improvement, of reaching higher, doing better, challenging oneself. Yuuri had chosen it to motivate himself towards his goal of being a decent soulmate for Viktor.
He hadn’t imagined that the first time he skated it in a competition, it would be more valid than ever.
And he aced it.
“You beat your personal record, Yuuri!” Celestino exclaimed as they left the kiss and cry. “I didn’t think that performing in Japan would give you such a boost!”
The public had cheered him on a lot, which was something new to Yuuri, and it had helped in keeping him in the right mindset of feeling better, stronger. He didn’t think it would work this way either. Usually, expectations just made him nervous.
The interviews took more time than usual too, and he repeated himself a lot about his gratefulness for the support he had been given.
By the time he was done, it was nearly Viktor’s time.
In the lounge room where most of the skaters who were finished waited for the results, Yuuri watched as Viktor took position in the middle of the ice.
Yuuri closed his eyes and focused on his soulmate’s feelings. He seemed calm, determined, maybe a little melancholic, but from what Yuuri knew, that fit with his theme: Viktor had chosen to express the loneliness and longing of a man waiting for the lover he was separated from. It was obviously inspired by his own experience, a message to his soulmate.
Viktor started his Short Program and Yuuri watched, partly by staring at the TV, and partly by following his soulmate’s feelings.
The performance took shape after its first half. Yuuri felt it, that moment where Viktor perfectly represented his story, and it showed on screen.
With a soft smile, Yuuri sent a wave of pride and pleasure through their bond once Viktor was done. A minute later, in the kiss and cry, Viktor formed a heart with his fingers over his chest. He radiated satisfaction and affection.
“Not one of his best, but better than what I was afraid of,” Chris pointed out when he sat down on Yuuri’s left after finishing his own interviews. “Still, he’ll need to do better in the Free Skate to beat me.”
In the SP ranking, Chris was first and Yuuri second… No, rectification, Viktor’s results appeared on screen: Viktor was second and Yuuri third.
Even when he wasn’t at his best, Viktor was still better than him. That wasn’t really a surprise.
“Well done, by the way, Yuuri,” Chris said while squeezing his shoulder. “That’s the best I have seen you skate.”
Yuuri smiled softly at his friend. “We’ll see what tomorrow brings.”
oOo
Tomorrow brought trouble.
For the Free Skate, their order of passage depended on the results of the SP. As such, this time, Chris, Yuuri, and Viktor were all in the last warm-up group. While they waited to be sent on the rink, Chris made it his mission to introduce them.
“Do you have your head in the game, today, Viktor?” Chris asked.
“Of course!” Viktor replied cheerfully. “My soulmate is around, I can feel it. I have to show them my best!”
“Uhuh,” Chris hummed, “and you’re not obsessing about meeting them?” He laughed at the face Viktor made in answer. “That’s what I thought! Here, you need a distraction. Did you meet the local favorite yet?”
Yuuri had tried to stay away while eavesdropping, but he was grabbed by the neck and turned around to face Viktor.
“Viktor, this is Yuuri Katsuki. Yuuri, you already know who this is, say hi.”
Yuuri squeaked, blushed, and waved. Even if Chris wasn’t squeezing him so tight, he’d have difficulties to remember the most basic English words.
Viktor chuckled. “Hello. Is Chris giving you a hard time?”
“What? Excuse me,” Chris protested, “I’m just trying to be a good friend to both of you!”
“Are you sure you aren’t trying to get rid of me? You’re choking me,” Yuuri managed to reply, amused.
Chris immediately adjusted his grip to his shoulders instead of his neck, leaning against Yuuri’s back. “My point was: you have some competition this year, Viktor. Yuuri is only two points behind you, and the Free Skate is one of his strengths. He has more stamina than you would believe hidden in his small stature!”
Yuuri grabbed the wandering hand poking at his waist and going lower, strangely used to the bad habits of his friend. It didn’t stop him from blushing at the compliment though.
“You can’t blame me for wanting to meet my soulmate, Chris. It has been more than four years,” Viktor whined (there was no other appropriate word, that was definitely a whine).
“Four years compared to the long relationship everyone promises you seems quite short,” Yuuri couldn’t help but reply, “especially when your soulmate is with you in thoughts at each competition.”
It’s only when Viktor and Chris stared at him with surprise that Yuuri realized how bold he had been.
He blushed and stammered. “I-I mean… I have always read that a soulbond is like any other relationship. There is a time and a rhythm for it. A time to learn about each other, to meet each other… you know? Maybe the right time for a meeting hasn’t come yet. It doesn’t mean that you can’t learn from it in another way… I think.” That was certainly what he was doing as far as Yuuri was concerned. He was still too intimidated to introduce himself properly to Viktor, but he was talking to him, right now, wasn’t he? He was learning about him, about who he was outside of the ice, in his daily life. Viktor was doing the same without knowing it.
It was time for the warm-up. The three other skaters stepped on the rink.
Viktor was staring at him like he had given him the solution to the universe. “That… is a very interesting way of thinking...”
“I didn’t know you were interested in soulbonds, Yuuri,” Christophe added.
Yuuri cleared his throat. “Mh… Isn’t everyone? Excuse me, we should go,” he said quickly before making his escape.
As he left, he heard Viktor asking Chris: “What did you say his name was again? … Ah. I thought I had imagined it. One of my team’s juniors has the same name.”
Wondering how he should take it, Yuuri was a little too distracted during the warm-up; he nearly collided with another skater.
A few minutes later, when they were leaving the rink except for the man ranked in sixth position, Viktor caught Yuuri by the elbow and whispered: “Thanks for what you said earlier.”
Yuuri glanced at him with a raised eyebrow.
“It got me thinking… that you are right. The time isn’t right, not with the programs I planned… but by the end of this season, for sure, I’ll know.” Viktor smiled confidently.
Yuuri looked down and bit his lower lip lightly. The end of the season, uh? … He could agree to that. “I’m sure you will,” he replied with a little smile.
Viktor won silver, 0.4 points behind Christophe. Yuuri won bronze. Standing on the same podium as his idol and soulmate was an amazing experience. Their feelings were so similar that it was heady.
Christophe made them climb up on his step for a round of pictures. Yuuri’s eye caught Viktor’s. They exchanged a smile and then a laugh when Chris grabbed them around the shoulders and made a joke.
“I’ll see you at the Final, Yuuri,” Viktor said before they separated.
“Yes,” Yuuri agreed confidently. Nothing and no-one would stop him from living this once more and from hearing his name coming from Viktor’s lips again.