Archive of Our Own

Part I

Entryway of Ice Castle Hasetsu (Hasetsu, Japan) - an afternoon in early May, 2018 

“Looking forward to it! We’ll see you next week, Yuuri-san, Viktor-san!”

With parting bows, he and Viktor watched Rei-san and Miyamura-san depart down Ice Castle’s front steps, a copy of their signed contract clutched in the latter’s hands and fluttering in the light breeze. 

Yuuri inhaled, deeply, a sense of exhilaration thrumming in his chest at this most recent piece of proof that It Was Really Happening. 

“It”, of course, meaning “getting married to my fiance, coach and co-parent to Makkachin and Meni”. 

When he grounded himself in this fact to outwit the anxiety that tended to fester in his head – the same anxiety that told him that Viktor didn’t actually care about their ceremony’s hanakotoba themes since he’d probably break up with him before then, anyway, or that he was humoring him around the music for their reception – Yuuri felt liable to float right off of the ground in awe and elation. 

In a little less than a year he’d be marrying his soulmate, and in addition to the choice of violets, bluebells, and sunflowers¹ for their bridal archway, and the ballad I Am Free for their first dance, they’d just made another crucial bit of progress in their wedding planning: booking Rei-san for their Save the Date photoshoot. It’d be taking place right here at Ice Castle, where they’d spent so many electrifying mornings and afternoons two years ago, falling in love.

“They both must think we’re besotted idiots,” Viktor remarked, tucking himself neatly into Yuuri’s side.

There was a pout on his face, but it was at odds with the glimmer in his eyes and the smugness in his voice, both of which betrayed his satisfaction at the prospect.

“And are we not?” Yuuri playfully replied, pressing a kiss to his temple. 

Viktor let out a beautifully lilting laugh. 

Perhaps it was his own relief around how well the meeting had just gone that made him immediately want to hear that sound over and over again (…or, maybe Viktor’s sonorous laugh really had always sounded so enchanting).  

“Fair point, Yusha,” Viktor responded, intertwining their fingers and tugging him back towards the lobby. “Rei-san has had two whole summers to get used to us, so it’s probably not a completely out-of-the-blue realization.”

Yuuri gave a non-committal hum, thinking of how surreal it was that the same mid-60’s, salt-and-pepper-haired photographer that had been taking photos at various Katsuki family occasions since well before he was a baby had now seen him skating around in the arms of his fiance, the two of them laughing and stumbling over their feet in giddiness. 

Suddenly, a mild stab of guilt poked his conscience as he remembered how his mother had written to him in December 2012, just a week after his 20th birthday. In her letter, she’d mentioned that Rei-san had been asking after him, wondering if he’d be coming home for Seijin no Hi, and if he wanted pictures, if so. 

That subsequent phone call home had been excruciating, neither Yuuri nor his father willing to acknowledge the almost plaintive note of hope in his okaasan’s voice. Thanks to time and perspective, he could now see how selfish he’d been to extinguish it, his terse, clipped sentences punctuated by stilted pauses.

Needing to push aside this particular memory, he searched for something to say.

“What did you think of Miyamura-san? Rei-san’s studio must be doing well, because I don’t remember him having an assistant this time last summer,” Yuuri noted, breaking slightly away from Viktor to hurry ahead to the changing room.

Lost in thought, it wasn’t until he was reaching into their shared locker that he realized that Viktor hadn’t answered his question.

“Vitya?” he asked, blinking a bit in confusion; Viktor seemed to be re-lacing his skates with unusual focus. “Did you hear what I asked? About Miyamura-san?”

Viktor shot him a furtive glance before letting out a strangely pitched laugh. He ducked his head, a few strands of his shoulder-length hair falling to shroud his face. 

As much as Yuuri had enthusiastically supported his decision to begin growing it out post-retirement, it was at times like this that he missed the shorter version, if only because it hadn’t allowed Viktor to obfuscate, hiding his true feelings behind a curtain of starlight.

“Ahh, well. Miyamura-san’s…fine,” his fiance quietly answered before giving a weird shrug. “He could probably work to pick up better on conversational cues, though.”

Yuuri stilled, feeling utterly perplexed at his body language. 

A small pit of misgivings began to form in his gut as he registered how Viktor still wasn’t looking at him (and, thus, had completely missed the way Yuuri was holding out his Winter Olympics warmup jacket, which he had taken to “stealing” whenever he could).

“Conversational cues? What does that mean?” he slowly questioned, draping the jacket around Viktor's shoulders. “Did I miss something?”

Yuuri sat down next to him on the bench, his mind beginning to churn and his limbs feeling extremely heavy, despite the fact that he hadn’t yet done any jump practice today. Their shoulders brushed just barely, and he itched to touch Viktor, though he was unsure if that’d be welcome or not. 

Four painfully slow seconds plodded by, and unable to help himself, he reached over to surround one of Viktor’s hands between both of his own. He received a small smile, which calmed a few of the panicked flutters swarming his stomach.

“It was when you had gone to the bathroom. There was an awkward moment,” Viktor answered, sounding subdued. 

The pit of misgivings doubled in size.

“Rei-san was just making small talk, you know how he is…saying it must be nice that your parents are letting us use the onsen² for the festivities. And so I said something along the lines of how I couldn’t imagine us hosting our reception anywhere else, considering how many memories we’ve made there.”

Yuuri nodded, hoping it would encourage him to keep going.

“Then, all of a sudden, Miyamura-san asked what my parents thought of Yu–topia, and how I should give them a proper introduction to sake, so they don’t get trashed at our reception,” Viktor continued, sounding so abruptly and abjectly miserable that Yuuri’s breath lodged in his throat, snaring painfully. “I don’t really remember what I answered with. I think I tried to change the subject, but he just kept going, saying they must be so excited about the wedding.”

“Oh, Vitya,” Yuuri whispered, feeling frozen with guilt.

Or tried to whisper, rather. For all he knew, his mouth was moving wordlessly and he was stupidly gaping.

“He then said that, being a local, of course, he knew all about the Katsukis. But also how he’d heard next to nothing about the– ” 

Viktor stopped short, his breathing seeming to cost him. Yuuri’s body moved without express permission from his brain, and he hunched over to slip his arms around his waist. 

For one awful second, Viktor seemed to go completely rigid, but then slowly moved his own arms so that they rested over his. 

“ –how he’d heard next to nothing about the Nikiforovs,” he resumed, uttering his surname with something close to disgust.

Yuuri’s heart cracked open at the audible vitriol, a long fissure drawing back to the very first time his then-boyfriend had told him about Ilia and Sonya Nikiforov. In that conversation and the several that followed, he’d learned about the deep wounds they’d inflicted on their only son…wounds that had lasted long after Viktor had officially cut them out of his life at the age of sixteen. 

In September 2005, he’d had one final blowout fight with his emotionally neglectful parents, and the memory of that raw confrontation had wreaked havoc on his physical and mental state. It had caused Viktor to struggle through the first half of his debut Senior season, and this retrospective knowledge had made his gold medal victory at the 2006 Torino Olympic Games even more impressive. 

But Yuuri knew that his fiance would have traded countless gold medals for a family that would have loved and supported him unconditionally, for parents that would have stood by him in times of hardship instead of calling him “tiresome” or “exhausting”. 

More than the ephemeral gleam of gold, for most of his life, Viktor had longed for parents who would have sat in the stands of Novice and Junior skating competitions instead of hosting stuffy get-togethers for other wealthy couples they only took a passing interest in. For a family that would have sacrificed time and comfort to demonstrate that he was loved and wanted. 

“I could tell that he just thought he was being friendly, because he went on to say that they had to be lovely people if they’d raised a s-son like me,” Viktor stated, his voice beginning to wobble in a way that immediately made Yuuri’s eyes well up. “Then he said that they must be over-the-moon with happiness to get a son-in law like– ”

Viktor drew a choked breath before wincing.

Yuuri blanched, realizing he’d been squeezing him far too tightly, and knowing, wretchedly, that this had been an attempt to distract himself from the pulses of guilt threatening to choke his lungs.

His own tears spilled over.

They splattered the lenses of his glasses, and though he made to loosen his hold, the swooping pitch of fear in Viktor's tone paralyzed him.

“No, pl-please, luchik³,” he implored, sounding mere seconds from fraying apart. “Please don’t let go.”

Yuuri was sure he’d never reacted quicker, practically diving on top of him in his effort to redouble his grip around his midsection (and, later, he would come to recognize that it was Viktor’s utterly beseeching request that had stalled his own panic attack). The violent motion almost sent them both to the floor, and in their united, flailing scramble to keep on the bench, they both let out teary, involuntary laughs.

“I’m sorry, love,” Yuuri managed to get out, not sure if he was apologizing for his ill-timed mirth, his clumsiness, or for the things he’d just heard (and the part he’d played in Viktor's hearing them). 

Viktor removed his glasses and began to clean them, and Yuuri sobered immediately at the sight of his sad, resigned smile. Even with red-rimmed eyes and blotchy cheeks, he was so incredibly beautiful, and the lump in his throat grew as Viktor gently placed them back on his face.

Why did it feel like he was comforting him?

“I’m so sorry you had to be r-reminded of them, yet again,” Yuuri sniffled, moving to press their foreheads together. “I sh-should…”

He trailed off, knowing there weren’t words sufficient enough to convey what he wanted to.

After all, how many times could he say the same thing before it began to lose its meaning?

This wasn’t the first time the subject of Viktor’s parents had come up during their wedding planning activities. They’d had to give their event planners a heads up to avoid the topic, and then once the Matsudas had arranged phone calls with three potential flower vendors, they’d had to give those folks a heads up, too. Viktor had done his best to put on a brave front, but everyone could feel the tension in those moments, and Yuuri had clearly seen how draining it was for him to have to articulate the reason for Ilia and Sonya’s absence (and how Yakov and Lilia would be the ones to walk him down the aisle, instead).

As such, Yuuri had volunteered to be the one to touch base with all of their ceremony/reception contacts going forward. However, given that he knew Rei-san to be someone of the utmost tact, he assumed Miyamura-san would be the same, and hadn’t bothered to give any heads up before things had gotten underway during their meeting.

Now, Viktor was suffering because of his carelessness.

He opened his mouth in another attempt to apologize, but his lips were summarily claimed in a very salty kiss. 

“No sorries, Yuranya,” Viktor mumbled against his mouth before pulling away to look at him. “You couldn’t have known that it’d come up, and we’re not that lovesick a couple as to pull a Makkachin and go to the bathroom together.”

Yuuri gave a hysterical giggle at this thought, and relief bloomed sharp and swift in his chest when he saw how Viktor's lips quirked.

He leaned forward to press a kiss to his nose and then just looked at him with all the tenderness he could muster. His heart felt liable to overflow with love for this incredible man, who was so strong yet soft, so caring and also so in need of care.

“What can I do?” Yuuri croakily asked, his blood brimming with the urge to fix and heal, to offer a balm that would restore their jubilant moods from before.

When Viktor smiled at him, it wasn’t his beaming, heart-shaped one, but it also wasn’t the shatteringly sorrowful one that Yuuri had just observed, either. 

It was shaky but somehow also content, and the edges of it reached right into his chest, burrowing deep down there and offering needed warmth.

“Just stay close to me.”

…

Bedroom of Yuuri and Viktor’s condo⁴ (Hasetsu, Japan) - around 1 am the following morning  

In. Out. In. Out.

Sometimes when he couldn’t sleep, Yuuri liked to hone in on the soothing sound of Viktor’s quiet, measured breaths. 

On nights like this one when it was his fiance’s turn to be the big spoon, he was hyper-aware of those small gusts of hot air rippling pleasantly over the nape of his neck, or teasing the trimmed hairs covering the back of his scalp. 

Occasionally, Yuuri would shift ever so slightly so that his shoulder met Viktor’s collarbone, allowing him to crane his head to the side to see how his pretty eyelashes fluttered in time with the rise and fall of his chest.

He almost reached out to stroke a few fingers over his jawline but thought better of it at the last second. 

What was Viktor dreaming about?

Whatever it was, Yuuri hoped it was entirely blissful, and that the troubled, restless energy that now plagued him was nowhere near his subconscious. He’d been feeling like this since their heart-to-heart in the Ice Castle locker room, and the skin-crawling sensation had only amplified once they’d gotten back to Yu-topia. 

Both of their gazes had been so bloodshot that his okaasan had immediately hurried to the kitchen to cut them cucumber slices for depuffing, leaving Minako-sensei to survey them with narrowed eyes.  

While Viktor had made him apply pressure to his lids (“Yuuuuu-ri, your eyes are beautiful! It’s mine that need the extra help; I’m an old man, the skin there is already sagging!”), Yuuri had relayed to his mom and childhood ballet teacher the things that Miyamura-san had said. He’d spoken in low, rushed Japanese, almost like he could erase the memory from existence the faster he talked.

His okaasan’s eyes had crinkled in sympathy and once she’d moved to Viktor’s other side to embrace him, he’d begun to cry again. 

For a long moment, the three of them could only look at each other, helplessly. Then, in a rather weak attempt to make him laugh, Yuuri had summarily plucked the slice off of his right eye, biting into it before claiming that the extra bit of salinity made the snack all the more refreshing.

Viktor had then snorted a highly ungraceful laugh before making a very lewd joke in Russian about the ‘cum’ part of cucumber. Yuuri had immediately turned beet red and hid his face in his hands. 

Of course, his mom had started giggling and Minako-sensei had demanded to know “what naughty thing had been said”. Evidently, they’d both spent enough time around them to know when Viktor was being deliberately shameless.

Yuuri had only told them that they should be glad they couldn’t understand Russian, and then his mom had given a very put-upon sigh before replying with something along the lines of how she wished she and dad could, as it would enable them “to understand their wonderful future son-in-law’s unique sense of humor”. 

The memory flitted through his head, accompanied by a surge of fondness when he recalled how Viktor had teasingly chimed in via endearingly garbled Japanese that he could start giving lessons right away. 

Yuuri's breath caught, the seed of an idea sprouting in his mind. 

He would of course stay close to Viktor as had been requested, but perhaps there was something else he could do to drive home the concept of chosen family…to help Viktor see that there were people besides Yuuri that loved and accepted him.

In totality.

Yuuri bolted upright, the movement making his fiance let out several sleepy grumbles. 

He reached over to pet his head, feeling pleased when Viktor instantly quieted like a spoiled pet. And speaking of which, Makkachin and Meni barely stirred from their spots curled at their feet, none the wiser to Yuuri’s idiotically ambitious idea. 

Slowly, he leaned over to his nightstand for his phone and opened four different tabs in his internet browser. 

First, Yuuri checked his personal bank balance as well as his and Viktor’s joint account, needing to remind himself of the exact amount of prize money he’d won due to his PyeongChang gold medal. Though Viktor had protested, they’d ended up agreeing to split the costs of the wedding and honeymoon 50-50, so Yuuri would need to budget some wide margins, since he wouldn’t know what those totals would be for some time. 

Next, he began searching for a language learning academy in Fukuoka. 

Specifically, one that taught Russian virtually as well as in-person, and offered group rates as well as 1:1 tutoring. The emphasis for lessons needed to be on conversational fluency and pronunciation rather than writing and strict grammar. He was pleased to find two centers both within the Fukuoka city limits and wrote down both phone numbers, with a plan to make some calls as soon as he could find a decent window of time.

In the third tab, Yuuri navigated to the Google folders that he and Mari-neechan co-owned. 

After earning more prize money than he’d ever seen in his life thanks to his silver medal at the 2016 Grand Prix Final, he had insisted on starting to pay his parents back for their outsized investment in his career. Yuuri was particularly keen on covering the earlier expenditures, the ones he’d tearfully accepted before he’d gained enough notoriety to get independent funding through the Japanese Skating Federation (JSF) or corporate sponsors. 

With Mari’s help to figure out the granular details, he’d started contributing monthly sums to the onsen’s operating expenses, which had enabled his parents to increase the size of the staff. As such, he was intimately familiar with Yu-topia’s salary budgets. 

If both of his parents and his sister agreed to take weekly Russian lessons, it might not cut too badly into business operations, but even so, Yuuri wanted to be able to cover the cost of an additional salaried person. 

But…perhaps he should broaden his thinking? 

Would Minako-sensei, Takeshi, and Yuuko also agree to lessons? After all, they were “family” too…Viktor loved them, just as he loved okaasan and tousan and neechan. 

And, he knew they loved Viktor as well, had long come to regard him with the kind of familiarity that permeated far deeper than mere politeness or even reverent kindness could.

But supposing those three also joined in, did that mean Yuuri should pay for additional employees for Minako-sensei’s studio, and for Ice Castle? Or, for a nanny to keep the triplets company so their parents could learn without feeling any guilt?

His head began to spin and his breathing quickened. 

He almost slammed his laptop shut, telling himself to just abandon the idea altogether, but turned to look at Viktor at the last second.

No, Yuuri told himself, firmly. 

He could practically see it now: how happy Viktor would be on the day of their wedding, his beautiful eyes streaming with tears of happiness to hear his native language spoken back to him from all of the people he’d come to love most. From the people who would hold him close and never dream of abandoning him like Ilia and Sonya had.

Suddenly, Yuuri’s mind settled, much like it had a split-second before he’d taken the ice in Pyeongchang. 

Clarity and determination began to swim through his veins and in his final tab, he opened a blank Google Doc which he titled ‘To Do's: Learning Russian for Viten’ka’. 

Making sure not to type too loudly, he began to list bullet point after bullet point.

He didn’t end up falling asleep until 4am. 

…

Yu-topia Main Dining Room (Hasetsu, Japan) - an evening several days later  

Yuuri swallowed noisily in the expectant silence following his ask, hoping that everyone was simply pondering the feasibility of his scheme rather than planning to laugh him out of the room. 

He might have gone a bit too into the weeds with his slideshow of projected costs or lesson details from the instructors at Meiji Learning Academy, but he didn’t want to be accused of not having thought things through. 

After all, he recognized what a substantial request this was to make. 

Suddenly, an explosion of overlapping voices met his ears. Even as his heart rate picked up with each snippet of conversation he could make out, the knot of anxiety in Yuuri’s stomach began to loosen with the knowledge that his idea to surprise Viktor wasn’t being rejected.

“Vik-chan will be so happy and surprised! This is very sweet of you, dear.” (okaasan, clasping her hands together with glee and wriggling in place)

“Are you sure about paying for the lessons entirely by yourself, Yuu-kun? That’s a lot of money! Takeshi and I would be happy to chip in.” (Yuuko, with a meaningful glance at her husband)

“Oh! I’ve actually always wanted to learn Russian! It’d make things way easier when I’m watching certain ballet videos.” (Minako-sensei, waving her sake glass around so wildly that a majority of it sloshes out directly onto Lutz’s head)

“This will probably require some clandestine family meetings via Skype…you better come up with a good cover story, otouto, or Vik-chan will get suspicious and think you’re cheating on him.” (Mari-neechan, folding her arms against her chest with a wry smirk)

Yuuri began to splutter at that last one, though he could honestly see the scenario his sister voiced playing out in actuality; when in St. Petersburg, he Skyped his family/friends back home in Japan pretty regularly, but even he had to admit that keeping abreast of this group’s Russian language learning would require multiple video calls a week…something that would definitely make his fiance suspicious. Then again, they had a good amount of time for execution; he and Viktor had scheduled their wedding for mid-April of next year, so Yuuri was sure that ten or eleven full months of lessons might engender a decent amount of fluency. 

Or, at the very least, enough fluency for them to rehearse a speech and deliver it without completely butchering the Russian. 

He began to wave his arms around in a signal for quiet, a process that took way longer than he would have liked, on account of how Takeshi had begun to brainstorm a list of other skaters that Yuuri was most likely to cheat on Viktor with (the troll). 

“Ok, ok, one at a time, please! I’m really, really glad you’re all so excited, but my heart is beating so fast that I’m a little worried I may pass out,” he announced, managing a sheepish smile when Axel and Loop hurried over to bolster him on either side (which was quite sweet, though impractical should he actually collapse).

“Uhm, I’m honestly just relieved that no one seems to be going with a flat-out no,” he went on, allowing himself to be tugged back down to the tatami mat, where Meni was patiently waiting (and thumping his fuzzy tail). “I’ll do my best to answer any questions, so…fire away, I guess?”

His eyes widened as everyone’s hands went up at once. 

Viktor was currently on a video call with Christophe back at their condo, and Yuuri knew that time was running out before he’d join them for dinner. Was that an actual bead of sweat running down his neck, or was he imagining things? 

Yuuko began speaking without being called upon.

“I think this is a fantastic idea, Yuu-kun. Vik-chan will be very touched, I just know it.”

Yuuri blinked, waiting for an actual question. It seemed that she was done, however, because not even a second later, she’d pulled a handkerchief out of kami-sama knows where and had begun to dab at her eyes, muttering under her breath about soulmates and Yuu-kun’s casanova-like romantic gestures.

Yuuri almost snorted, quite sure that no one in their right mind would ever describe him as being remotely close to a Casanova-like figure. It was probably the sake talking.

“Yes…Loop-chan?” he called out, seeing how enthusiastically she was waving.

“Uncle Yuuri, your slideshow only included a note about Russian lessons for 6 people, but…excluding you, there are nine of us?” she piped up, with a frown.

Instantly, his heart sank. 

In truth, he hadn’t even considered getting the triplets in on this scheme; they had enough on their plates with Japanese and English learning in school, so it seemed highly unrealistic to expect them to add on a third language. Plus, it’s not like he was made of endless amounts of money, and though it sounded like Yuuko and Takeshi were willing to chip in, he couldn’t allow that kind of generosity.

His mind scrambled for some neat solution, that bead of sweat turning into a trickle as Axel and Lutz also began to frown and nod, as if catching on.

“Uhm, you’re right, Loop-chan,” Yuuri began, deciding that honesty needed to come first and foremost. 

“I didn’t include you three in the lessons…but that’s because I have a very unique job that only you three are suited for!” he hurried to continue, relieved when they looked moderately appeased. “If you remember, I said that this whole thing would build up to a group speech at the wedding reception to officially welcome Vik-chan to the family. But…truth be told, I’ve never been the best at writing those kinds of things.”

“Aww, I wouldn’t say that, Yuu-kun! Your speech at Vik-chan’s retirement party was just the right mix of sweet and sappily-nauseating,” Minako-sensei volunteered with a shit-eating grin, prompting Yuuri to spare a good two seconds to glare at her. 

“Anyway. You girls are so confident and sure of yourselves, so I thought I could leave that job to your very capable hands. I’d love if you could work with each person to create a paragraph or two to welcome Vik-chan to the Katsuki family,” he resumed, proud that his voice only wavered a little bit. “The only thing I’d ask if you accept is that you budget enough time to co-write with everyone, because it’d be great if you could have the speech written a few months beforehand. That way, there’s enough time to practice.”

Yuuri’s blood thundered in his ears as he waited for a potential meltdown due to his carelessness.

To his immense relief, the triplets seemed delighted by this prospect. Their excited, high-pitched voices were a little deafening, but he couldn’t help but grin at their ebullience.

He could see that his dad had been patiently waiting with a calm smile on his face, so he called on him next.

“Son, I’m very proud of you for thinking through all of these details and for having the resourcefulness to cover these costs,” he began.

Instantly, swirls of pink began to bloom on Yuuri’s cheeks at this praise. While kind and patient, unless he was watching his beloved Sagan Tosu soccer team or rip-roaringly drunk, his father tended to be a man of few words. As such, whenever Katsuki Toshiya spoke up, people tended to listen and take whatever he had to say seriously.

“My main question has to do with outside learning. Even if we all study hard and go through the Beginner and Intermediate course sequences you described, I remember what it was like when I first tried to learn English…no amount of looking at a textbook and following along with class notes helped me, because I never got the chance to practice with a learned speaker. Is that something you’ve already thought of?”

Yuuri felt a flicker of relief settle low in his gut, as well as a small hint of pride that he’d had the forethought to actually make arrangements around this. It was why he’d needed a few days before he could gather everyone to make this request.

“That’s a great question, dad. I, of course, have Vik-chan to practice my Russian, but that’s obviously not an option for you six,” he began, allowing himself a small smile. 

“But that’s where Yurio, myself, and the Meiji Academy individual tutors come in. I’ve worked it out so that in addition to one weekly lesson, you’d each get the opportunity to have at least one weekly time slot to practice speaking with either myself, Yurio, Sohma-san, or Kitagawa-san,” he continued, his smile stretching when his sister and Yuuko made excited noises at Yuri's name. 

Since he’d first descended to Hasetsu like a bat out of hell two years ago, Yuri Plisetsky had kept in close contact with Mari-neechan and the entire Nishigori family. Yuuri had been honored when he’d heard that he actually started learning Japanese independently for this very reason. 

When he, himself, first moved to St. Petersburg in January of last year, it had only taken a few days before Yuri had dropped by his and Viktor's apartment with an intimidatingly thick stack of Russian textbooks for him. 

He had kept his eyes on his feet even as his cheeks flamed, and had asked in a mutter for Yuuri’s recommendations on Japanese YouTubers he should follow “to help with his pronunciation”.

Yuuri had been so caught off-guard that he hadn’t been able to respond for a good half-minute. But his shock soon gave way to delight when he realized how much Yuri had managed to learn on his own, without even having taken a proper course. They’d informally become conversation practice partners, a development that Viktor had been thrilled about (even if he’d jokingly whined sometimes that he now had to fight harder for quality alone time with him).

Now, Yuuri watched as his dad happily nodded and gave a very Otabek-like thumbs up.

Glancing around, he was surprised to see that no one else had their hands raised. 

“That’s it?” he asked, feeling a bit wrong-footed. 

Meni gave a happy sounding yip in the interim silence, and he buried a few fingers in the poodle’s soft fur. 

He’d been so sure that he was about to get the third degree, but it seemed that his friends/family were shockingly content to trust him, none too concerned about the particulars. 

“Uhm…if there’s nothing else, then, should I plan to go ahead to make the group rate deposit?” Yuuri asked a bit weakly, his heart beginning to pound when multiple sake glasses rose in the air.

This was an unambiguous celebratory toast. 

“Don’t look so surprised, dear, did you think we’d say no?” his mother asked, looking amused, presumably due to the baffled expression he was wearing.

“Have more faith in us, Yuu-kun! We might be old dogs but we can definitely learn new tricks. Besides, you’d probably cry if we said no, and nobody wants your snot all over the table,” Takeshi chimed in right afterwards, elbowing him in the ribs rather painfully.

Yuuri watched as Minako-sensei got up to pour herself more sake, and listened in a daze as his mom and dad began chattering, rapidly, about how good it would feel to “learn something new again”. 

Was that…excitement in their voices? Eagerness, even?

A swell of gratitude washed over him as he looked around at the room, at all the people who were so willing to go along with this surprise in order to make Viktor happy.

And not even reluctantly going along with it, at that. They all seemed invigorated by this adventure.

Yuuri wrote himself a note to get in touch with the enrollment staff at Meiji Academy ASAP, hardly daring to believe that his 1am vision from a few nights previous might actually come to life.

Could it really be that simple?

…

The answer was no, of course.

There were many things Yuuri and his fellow schemers had to work out in order to get things underway. First and foremost was the question of what to do with respect to Viktor. 

All six newly enrolled Meiji Academy students – plus the triplets – were on board with the plan to keep things a secret from him until the wedding, itself. While Yuuri would have preferred for things to remain a complete surprise, ten months was a very long time to keep up a front, and there were time difference logistics related to his being available as a conversational practice partner that he didn’t know how to work around. 

Additionally, the memory of Viktor’s devastated face during their “let’s end this” miscommunication in Barcelona still haunted his thoughts, and he was eager to avoid anything that would make any insecurities resurface.

When Yuuri brought his concerns up with his therapist, he’d ended up feeling a little silly at how simple Suko’s solution seemed. 

“Sweetheart, I have a surprise for you, but it’s a long-term surprise, and I can’t tell you when you’ll get to find out about it,” Yuuri relayed during his and Viktor's walk to Ice Castle, two days after the initial plan reveal. “When we get back to Russia, it’ll require me to schedule secret video calls a few times a month, so we’ll have to figure out some kind of system…you’ll have to make yourself scarce when they take place, or I’ll have to start reserving a room at Yubileyny or something.”

Yuuri’s decision to relay all of this in carefully practiced Russian had been a very conscious choice made in order to butter his fiance up.

As soon as that latter sentence had been uttered, Viktor began to bounce on his heels, tugging at his hand with such force that he almost veered into a tree.

“Oops, sorry Yusha! But how wonderful: a surprise! Seeing as I’m your coach, I’ll have to insist on more information, though,” Viktor responded, looking shrewd.

He then hunched over so as to be directly in Yuuri’s line of sight, angling his head in such a way that his bangs fell over his face, haphazardly. It left just one captivating azure eye trained upon him, which suddenly went all wide and sparkly in pleading.

Ugh. 

Why did he have to be so cute?

“It’s not a skating related surprise, Vitya, so I’m afraid the coach line won’t work on me,” Yuuri evenly countered, breaking out of his hold so that he could hurry ahead. 

He was pathetically weak to Viktor's begging and urgently needed to get out of “the danger zone”.

Viktor literally began to skip alongside him, sounding unfairly composed even with this new level of exertion. 

“But what if I get so consumed in trying to figure out your surprise that it makes me lose focus while I’m trying to coach you? Wouldn’t you say that that potential loss of focus is skating-related?”

When Yuuri just huffed and began to jog, outright, Viktor matched his pace, his skate bag bouncing around wildly.

“At least give me a hint? What if the tables were turned and you were in my position? Wouldn’t it drive you crazy?!”

Yuuri laughed to himself in between heaving breaths, thinking of how ironic this assertion was. 

Because the thing was, he strongly suspected that Viktor had multiple surprises in store for their wedding, too. They’d agreed to keep their wedding gifts to one another⁵ a secret until the day of, but he was 99% sure that that wouldn’t be the only thing Viktor had up his sleeve. 

Yuuri stopped rather abruptly, prompting Viktor to overshoot him a bit and double back. For several long moments they stared at each other, sizing the other up, unblinkingly.

To his utter confusion, Viktor suddenly smacked himself right in the nose.

“Agh!! Gross, I think I just swallowed a bug!” he squealed, looking thoroughly repulsed.

Yuuri began to howl with laughter and after several minutes of being told how mean he was for finding amusement in such “heart-rending misfortune”, he decided to take pity on him. 

“Ok, Viten’ka, your hint is that it’s a very elaborate surprise involving my parents and a few others. And no, you do not have permission to harass them or anyone else that you suspect may be in on it, because everyone involved is under a strict oath to keep it hush-hush.” 

Viktor adopted a contemplative expression and Yuuri could practically see the cogs turning in his head. The rest of their walk hand-in-hand to Ice Castle was unusually quiet. 

Just before they passed through the entrance doors, however, he found himself being pulled into a bone-crushing hug and actually squeaked when his feet left the ground.

“I just know that I’ll love it, my Yuuri. You’re always surprising me in the very best ways,” his fiance murmured, sounding a bit choked up.

The reverence in his tone made tears prick in Yuuri’s eyes, and if Viktor saw him wiping them away, he didn’t mention it.

Part II

Yu-topia Main Dining Room (Hasetsu, Japan) - mid-June, 2018

“If anyone saw the most recent videos I have on my phone, they’d be thoroughly creeped out,” Yuuko dead-panned, switching to Japanese temporarily.

Mari smiled, and even Yurio cracked a grin from his side of the laptop screen. 

This was her and Yuuko’s third speaking practice session with him, and just a few days ago, he had sent the two of them a number of videos in which he’d taken close-up footage of his lips while he’d pronounced different vocab words and sentences. 

So far, one of the hardest parts of learning elementary Russian had been training her brain to give the correct signals to her mouth to form the right shapes. 

They were so different from the ones used in Japanese!

 “I don’t know if you can tell, but I took that last one in the locker room, and Viktor walked in just as I was about to start speaking. I told him I was making a video for my dentist. What kind of creep dentist would ask for hand-made videos, anyway?”

Yuuko laughed so hard that she spewed water over her diligently-recorded notes and Mari moved out of the line of fire just in time.

Once they’d all settled down, Yurio eyed her, appraisingly.

“Ok, your turn. Ready?”

Mari cringed but nodded, having to remind herself that she’d seen this particular teenager in a number of unflattering situations. Namely, those post-temple onsen soaks, two summers ago. 

So they were on even ground.

…somewhat.

One of the realities of learning a language was resigning yourself to the fact that you were bound to look and sound dumb, especially in the beginning. With her brother’s encouragement, she’d told herself to lean into that as much as she could.

“Hello. My name is Yuri, and I live in St. Petersburg, Russia. How about yourself?” Yurio began.

She took a second to think, trying to recall the content from the last few Meiji Academy lessons that she’d completed. 

Sohma-san, Kitagawa-san, and the other virtual instructors were excellent and always made time to answer questions well after the lesson had ended. But even so, there was something far more freeing in being able to practice this stuff with Yurio. 

She took a deep breath, and even though her answering reply was far slower than his own intro, Yurio's thumbs-up afterwards felt good to see.

“Hello, my name is Mari, and I live in Hasetsu, Japan.”

Yurio took a swig from his water bottle and then continued on.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mari. I am a professional figure skater. What about yourself?”

She took a second to parse his words, her ears not immediately recognizing that second sentence due to its speed.

“Can you repeat yourself, please? Slowly?”

He nodded, and then spoke with more emphasis. She kept her gaze fixed on his mouth, and a feeling of triumph glowed in her chest when she was able to make out the fact that he’d mentioned skating. 

She closed her eyes, recalling the speaking session with Yuuri a few days ago, and the sentence that he’d taught her to say with painstaking detail. A smirk threatened to rise to her lips, but she fought it down.

“It’s nice to meet you, Yuri. I work in hospitality. I know that my brother is your favorite skater, and how much you look up to him.”

A second passed and then Yurio’s jaw dropped, his cheeks going bright pink.

“Where did you learn that?!” he demanded, in adorably flustered Japanese.

Mari just laughed, beginning to doodle on the page before her.

When Yurio repeated himself at greater volume, Yuuko began swiveling her head between her and the screen, looking lost, but sounding extremely invested.

“What did she say, Yurio? Mari-san, what did you say?!”

Learning Russian was the most difficult thing she’d done in awhile. But it was also pretty fun.

…

Meiji Learning Academy (Fukuoka, Japan) - mid-August, 2018 

Minako groaned, and Kyoko raised an amused eyebrow at her, looking very much like she wanted to giggle. 

It was now blatantly obvious that she’d slacked off on the homework assignment from last week – recording a video in which she had to read aloud two pages in their Beginner Russian textbook – and for once, she actually felt a little embarrassed. 

Kitagawa-san was an extremely beautiful woman, and there was something quite attractive about her Japanese-tinged Russian accent. There were even times when it seemed like the energy crackling between them verged upon flirtation.

“It’s ok, Okukawa-san, I know how busy you must be. When I checked in with Yuuri-san last week regarding everyone’s progress, he told me that this fall will be the busiest year yet for your ballet studio! That’s fantastic,” she said, with genuine warmth.

Minako smiled, pride stirring in her chest. 

It was true; for the first time in years, she’d actually had to turn students away from her Beginner and Intermediate ballet classes, the reason for which being obvious: Yuuri’s upward career trajectory. 

While tourist interest in his hometown had certainly been high last year after he’d won World’s and ended Viktor’s five-year winning streak, Hasetsu hadn’t seen its current steep influx of permanent residents or new, long-term business contracts until after Yuuri’s Olympic medal win in Pyeongchang. 

Minako got teary-eyed whenever she allowed herself to think too deeply about the Free Skate they’d co-choreographed together, so she pushed the memory away and sat up straighter.

“Thank you for understanding,” she replied, a bit clumsily, before giving a small bow. “If you’d like, I can read to you, now?”

Kyoko nodded, looking pleased, and Minako turned a few pages to the “practice pronunciation” selections. She’d had a good laugh with Hiroko and Toshiya about them last week, wondering who on Earth came up with the topics. 

One of the selections was entirely about things you’d find at a typical Russian grocery store, except instead of filling their dumplings (pelmeni) with the typical minced beef or pork, their neighbors to the north sometimes liked to go with some hearty beaver filling. 

Utter insanity.

Her eyes landed on a page about weather and she grinned, remembering the visit she’d made to see Viktor compete at the Rostelecom Cup, last November. After the competition, she’d joined him, Yuuri, Mila, Georgi and Yurio to go snow-shoeing, and had ended up having more fun than she could remember having in a very long time.

She began reading, albeit slowly.

“Russian winters can be very harsh. If you visit during this season, you must bring a proper coat. A scarf, hat, and gloves are also important.”

With each sentence, her confidence grew, especially when she realized that Kyoko had only stopped her once to correct her pronunciation. 

Especially at her age, it was exhilarating to realize that she was capable of learning a new language. She’d been studying ballet ever since she was a little girl, and that technical knowledge by way of French terminology was now as ingrained as her Japanese was. It had been a long time since she’d had to flex her reading comprehension/language learning “muscles”, but to her immense surprise, she didn’t hate it. 

It was a challenge, and much like one Katsuki Yuuri, she didn’t shy away from challenges. 

…

Yuuri and Viktor’s hotel room (Everett, Washington - United States) - late October, 2018

“Perfect, I’ll email you the details right away! Yuuri will be so surprised!” Viktor crowed, beaming at Takeshi’s face in his Skype window. “Talk to you later, and please tell Yuuko I say hello.”

So I wasn’t imagining it, he thought to himself, seeing that odd flash of uncertainty re-emerge in the other man’s eyes. But in only a split-second it disappeared, and Takeshi was waving back like nothing was amiss.

Viktor closed his laptop, feeling a bit puzzled. 

That logistics call to go over Yuuri’s birthday surprise was supposed to have been with both of the Nishigoris, but he’d seen only one face appear in the Skype window. Takeshi had seemed unusually shifty when he’d explained that something had come up, and that Yuuko wouldn’t be able to make it.

Viktor had thought it a bit strange, but he wasn’t one to pry. 

Actually, wait. That wasn’t true at all. 

He was a big fan of prying, but in this particular instance, they had a very important matter to discuss, and he hadn’t wanted to waste any time; Yuuri was away for only an hour, attending to the mysterious secret he’d been harboring since May. The last several months of getting used to his weekly disappearances had taught Viktor that he was very punctual with his comings and goings.

While he was no closer to guessing what the surprise actually was – and had stopped trying, after Yuuri had said his feelings would be hurt if it got spoiled – Viktor had felt immensely proud when he’d taken a second to go over the list of all the various things Yuuri was juggling in addition to it: skating and cross-training, obviously, but also therapy, pole-dancing lessons, ballet class, Intermediate Russian lessons…

He was probably forgetting something.

In any event, Viktor felt that his amazing fiance deserved a break, and he was almost certain that Yuuri would qualify for his fourth Grand Prix Final come December; he had easily won gold only yesterday here in Everett, Washington for Skate America. 

As such, Viktor was intent on making this year’s birthday gift his best one, yet. 

Given Yuuri’s title as reigning World Champion (for the second time!), he had gotten first pick of the NHK trophy for his second Grix Prix assignment. They’d be leaving for Hiroshima in two weeks and unlike last year, there wouldn’t be any stress in Viktor’s needing to travel to Russia for Rostelecom right afterwards. 

So he’d decided to book a surprise extension of their trip, which would allow them to spend an additional three days on nearby Miyajima Island. Yuuri had once told him that Momijidani Park was a must-see spot in mid-November, when the autumn foliage was supposed to be at its most picturesque.

Back when they’d first begun dating, Yuuri had mentioned that he’d had the opportunity to visit for a class trip in high school, but the dates had overlapped with one of his Junior Grand Prix Final assignments. Viktor preened, imagining his overjoyed face once he realized he’d be able to experience what he’d had to miss out on, so many years ago.

Best of all, okaasan, tousan, neechan, Minako-sensei and the entire Nishigori crew had been planning on attending the competition, anyway, so once Viktor had extended the offer to cover travel and ryokan stays, the eight of them had needed very little convincing to agree to tag along.

The only potential downside was for the conversation to veer towards wedding planning territory, which was the exact topic he was hoping to avoid. Over those three days, Viktor intended to make it abundantly clear that Yuuri was forbidden from giving their wedding one single thought.

Indeed, if it weren’t for the Matsudas – their incredible mother-daughter wedding planning duo – he and his fiance probably would have died of stress, several times over. Viktor prided himself on his attention to detail, but even he had limits.

It wasn’t only their Yu-topia celebrations to keep in mind, after all. He and Yuuri would be doing a traditional Shinto ceremony the day before, so it felt like their to-do list was constantly growing.

Whenever Viktor could feel himself begin to spiral, he’d remember the wedding gift he’d begun developing alongside their various friends, and the thrill of excitement and anticipation would soon wash his worries away.

By now, Yuuri’s complete blackout on their magical Sochi banquet night was no longer a sore subject, but rather an affectionate joke. Still, Viktor knew that he occasionally grew sad that only one of them was able to remember their “origin story”, and an off-hand comment from Christophe a few months back had gotten his wheels turning: why not turn the latter half of their wedding reception into an exact recreation of that night?

Viktor had been able to get in touch with the International Skating Union’s (ISU) event planning committee members from three years ago, and had begun working on replicating things like the room’s decor and hors d'oeuvres menu. Thanks to some of the videos that Mila and Christophe had taken, he’d pieced together a music playlist from that night, and had even gotten Yuri to (begrudgingly) agree to another dance off with Yuuri. And though it was an egregious assault on his sense of taste, Viktor was planning on packing the exact same horrendous tie that Yuuri had been wearing around his head.

When Christophe had pointed out that Viktor could hope but not expect Yuuri to pole-dance – after all, they could hardly ask okaasan and tousan to shield their eyes – he’d had an answer for that, too; he would be the one pole-dancing that night. 

So far, he didn’t think his fiance suspected anything, though Yuuri had seemed to notice his increasing flexibility, remarking last week that his layback spin was looking better than ever. Viktor had wanted to learn from the best, so he’d actually started taking private lessons with Alina Kostornieva, the same instructor that Yuuri co-taught with. She was based out of KODA dance studio, an aerial/pole boutique not even a ten minute walk from their apartment.

While the routine that he and Alina were co-developing would be nowhere near as elaborate as the one he’d first seen Yuuri do, Viktor knew that Yuuri would be proud of him, nonetheless. Pole-dancing was hard, and since he’d begun his secret lessons, his sense of respect for Yuuri’s work ethic and artistry had only grown. 

Not to mention, his sense of respect for Yuuri’s immaculate thighs…

“Boof!”

“Boof, boof!”

Viktor’s fantasizing was brought to a halt by the sensation of a damp poodle nose snuffling at his toes. He giggled and leaned down to ruffle Meni’s ears, intent on bestowing him with some well-deserved affection. He wished they’d been able to bring Makka along too, but Yuuri was only allowed one service animal for his anxiety at competitions. She was currently spending time in Georgi’s care, and Viktor felt comforted by the daily videos Georgi had been sending. 

“What do you think, Menitchka, do you think Yusha will like the Banquet 2.0 idea?” he asked.

When Meni failed to acknowledge him, he switched to Russian.

“After I give my stunningly executed pole-dancing debut, do you think he’ll follow suit? Or, will he be too weak in the knees to perform?”

The poodle gave an affirmative yip and began to furiously wag his tail. Viktor leaned back against the headboard, feeling proud of his and Yuuri's multilingual household.

…

Lobby, Hotel Business Center (Osaka, Japan) - late December, 2018 

Yuuri took a deep breath, the mantra he’d developed ringing through his head.

Be patient. They’re kids. If not for their sneaky ways, Vitya would never have come to Hasetsu in the first place. 

Axel, Lutz, and Loop were ignorant to his suffering, their voices just as loud and frantic as ever. It grated on his nerves and ears.

“That order doesn’t even make sense! If anything, mom’s part should go first; she’s been a fan of Uncle Viktor’s even longer than Uncle Yuuri’s been!” (Axel, brandishing her draft copy with frightening vigor)

“Why are we still fighting about the order? We haven’t even decided what everyone should say yet! Shouldn’t we do the speaking parts first and then decide on the order?” (Lutz, aiming a disapproving look her way)

Yuuri squinted, looking down at the page in front of him which was littered with red marks. They weren’t even halfway through going over the draft, and he was already exhausted.

Well. 

He was exhausted in general, considering that it was only yesterday that he’d skated his very taxing Short Program. 

When he’d learned that the Nishigoris would be here in Osaka to support him at Japanese Nationals as well as to help celebrate Viktor’s birthday, it had seemed like a good opportunity to meet in person with the triplets. They’d informed him that they’d made a good amount of progress on a rough draft of the wedding speech for Viktor, and Yuuri was hoping they could have it finalized by mid or late January.

He sunk even deeper into his sumptuous chair, one of four decorating the business center lobby of the International Skating Union’s official hotel pick. As the triplets continued to argue, his mind wandered a bit.

The thought that he hadn’t even yet competed in Four Continents’ or World’s sort of made him want to cry. Now almost mid-way through the 2018-2019 season, he and Viktor had fallen into a good routine in terms of his training, as well as travel for competitions, but those activities only accounted for roughly a third of what was on Yuuri's mind on any given day. 

As their wedding loomed nearer and nearer, the number of to-do’s seemed to be growing, not lessening. 

And this was primarily his own fault. Because it hadn’t been enough to conspire with his friends and family to learn Russian; Yuuri also had had the brilliant idea to write Viktor an original song, which he would be performing during their wedding reception.

Of course, this was assuming that he wouldn’t puke his guts out from anxiety right beforehand.

Thank God for Phichit; his best friend had been instrumental in not only hyping him up and reminding him that Viktor would surely love anything he wrote, but also in serving as his primary mode of feedback. He’d listened to demo after demo that Yuuri had recorded in such varied places as the empty conference rooms of Yubileyny, Alina’s pole classroom at KODA Dance, and even their hotel room in Hiroshima during the NHK Trophy last month. 

“Girls, girls, a little quieter, please? I can’t really hear myself think, and I don’t want us to get kicked out for making a ruckus,” Yuuri muttered, a bit wearily.

The triplets had the good grace to settle down, looking somewhat cowed.

“Sorry, Uncle Yuuri. We’re just really excited. What did you want to go over, next?” Axel asked, looking like she was vibrating in place. 

Yuuri thought for a bit, and then zeroed in on the paragraphs the girls had devised in collaboration with his mom and dad. They were a bit rough, but even so, he’d teared up when he’d first laid eyes on them. 

While everyone had a crucial role to play, it was okaasan and tousan’s speaking parts that he most wanted to iron out. In just a few months’ time, they’d be accepting another son into the Katsuki family, and the tone for their welcomes seemed particularly important.

“That’s ok, I’m glad you three are so willing to help,” he replied, hoping he sounded as sincere as he felt. “Let’s look at the part you wrote for my mom, ok?”

Vik-chan, some of my fondest memories from my son’s childhood are from the times when he’d wander into the kitchen, his sweet eyes so wide and full of curiosity around what I was up to. Whether it was as simple as peeling daikon, or as complicated as putting together the perfect motsunabe,, Yuuri was content to sit on a nearby stool, waiting and watching. When he felt brave enough, he sometimes helped (though I had to give him lots of encouragement to reassure him that I wouldn’t be upset if he made a mistake). 

So imagine my delight when you entered my kitchen in July, 2016, sitting on the very same stool that my Yuuri had, so many years before. Maybe you remember it, too. I had been in the middle of making tororo, and you seemed quite keen to know the exact ratio of dashi to spring onion that I was adding for flavoring. You only had a basic grasp of Japanese at that point, but even so, I was able to figure out what you were trying to ask.

Even over two years later, Yuuri could distinctly remember his mom telling him about Viktor’s curiosity. 

It had occurred later that day, itself. 

It had been late at night, and his coach had already gone to bed, like the old man he really was. Yuuri had still been up, failing to concentrate on a video game due to basking in the memory from earlier in the day when Viktor had whooped for joy over his quad salchow.

When his okaasan had come into his room to deliver some freshly laundered sheets, she’d giggled over the endless spate of questions Viktor had asked her in the kitchen, and something fierce yet soft had settled in Yuuri’s chest to see her looking so happy. 

At that point, he hadn’t yet figured out the depth of his true feelings for Viktor, but his heart also hadn’t been able to ignore the flutter that he’d experienced when he’d pictured that scene: his mom and Viktor, talking and laughing together through a combination of rudimentary English and Japanese, plus enthusiastic hand gestures.

Something about it seemed so right, and it’d also driven home a crucial realization for Yuuri: it wasn’t only his company that Viktor enjoyed. 

The “Living Legend” was equally content to explore his mother’s cooking as he was to help hone Yuuri's jumps and step sequences. He liked to nerd out with him over costume development and music composition, but he was also game to watch a Sagan Tosu match with his dad, even if he didn’t really know what was going on (or actually care about soccer).

Well after his mom had left the room, Yuuri had sat on his bed, stunned, wearing an idiotically wide smile on his face. Even having trained at a world-class skating facility like Yubileyny for well over a decade, Viktor was thrilled to embrace Hasetsu and everything that came along with it, and the sweetness of that discovery had made Yuuri unstoppable during practice the next day.

Now in the present, he smiled, uncapping his red pen.

…

Yu-topia Main Dining Room (Hasetsu, Japan) - late February, 2019

“You’re doing great, take your time, dad.”

Toshiya nodded at his son’s soft encouragement and looked down at his copy of their group speech, which he’d handwritten next to the most recent set of notes from his Intermediate Russian class. 

The latter was the second in Meiji Academy’s intermediate offerings, and he’d actually already talked with his wife about continuing on with the third and final course in the sequence after the wedding. 

It was amazing, how much could change in nine months. 

While he’d been supportive of Yuuri’s idea to welcome Viktor to the family, he’d also been quite apprehensive around his ability to match the learning speed of his wife and the others. Prior to this past year, it had been a very long time since he’d sat in a classroom or taken notes on anything other than his business’ financial prospects, and Toshiya would have been lying if he’d said he hadn’t had doubts over the first few months since the Meiji lessons had begun.

Identifying the correct tense to use was still a major issue for him, and he knew that he had a tendency to switch between past and present mid-way through a conversation. 

Plus, his ears sometimes just could not differentiate between how certain words were supposed to sound with his accent, so there were instances when he’d switch into Japanese without even realizing it. Sohma-san had reassured him that this was quite normal (and a habit that persisted for him even after five years of learning Russian).

Still, the victories were extremely rewarding.

Last week, he and Kitagawa-san had spoken in Russian for a full half hour, and he’d only made five major pronunciation mistakes in that entire exchange! Their conversation was nothing revolutionary – after the pleasantries, they’d had a very mundane back and forth about what they’d each eaten for lunch – but even still, it was a thrill to be able to pick up on words, grammatical rules, and technicalities of speaking that had stumped him last year. 

Now, half of the conversation Toshiya had with his wife and daughter was in Russian, as they’d discovered it was an efficient way to exchange gossip about their customers. (Of course, this had necessitated them to learn a number of highly specific words, so they’d gone to Yuri-kun with such niche asks, like learning the simplest way to talk about someone’s dating life.)

He opened his mouth, ready to make a second attempt at the sentence that he’d previously bungled.

Vik-chan , some people might disapprove when I say that I never gave you a lecture on “the care and keeping” of my son. 

But from the moment in which I realized that things between you two were serious, I also realized how very deeply you care for him. And even more than that, I have always found it silly when overprotective fathers make warnings not to hurt their children, because hurt is a part of life. 

I adore my Hiroko, but I know I have unintentionally hurt her in the course of our marriage, just as she has hurt me. What is important, is the willingness to repair, and the humility to admit that you are not capable of getting everything right on the first try, but that you can work to get better. I have seen you display this humility, Vik-chan, as a coach but also as a partner.

Toshiya looked up and sure enough, Yuuri’s eyes – the gold-flecked, cinnamon colored ones he’d been lucky enough to inherit from Hiroko – were wet. 

This part of the speech always seemed to make him emotional, and it would frequently make Toshiya recall the hushed conversation the two of them had had after Yuuri had come back from Barcelona the year before last.

They’d been soaking together in the onsen when Yuuri had suddenly begun speaking unprompted, explaining what had happened between him and Viktor the night before he’d given what he had thought would be his last competitive performance.

Toshiya had been surprised to hear him sounding so utterly ashamed of himself, especially given how Yuuri had mentioned that the two of them had ended up reaching an understanding. 

Clearly, even if Viktor had, his son still hadn’t been able to forgive himself.

The anxiety had rippled off of him in great waves, and he’d fiddled with his golden ring so much that it had almost fallen off of his finger, right into the bath. Once he’d finished, Toshiya had been quiet for at least a minute, but then he’d given Yuuri this same advice about the inevitability of hurt, and the necessity of repair. 

He hadn’t been sure at the time if the words had had their intended effect, but in the last few weeks that they’d been practicing the wedding speech together, he’d spied something like understanding in Yuuri’s eyes. 

Seeing it had filled Toshiya with a deep sense of gratitude; when his son had been training in Detroit during those crucial and difficult years of early adulthood, he’d spent many nights worrying about him and gathering with his wife and daughter at the family butsudan to light incense in prayer. He and Yuuri hadn’t had much opportunity for meaningful conversation via phone, so to know that his son, now older and starting a new chapter of his life, could still find value in his “fatherly wisdom”...

…it had made his heart feel full. 

Perhaps, one day, Viktor would come to him, seeking such wisdom as well. He was very much looking forward to it.

Part III

Back courtyard of Yu-topia (Hasetsu, Japan) - the Katsuki-Nikiforov Wedding Day (late April, 2019)

“What the hell is wrong with you? You’re not even blinking,” Otabek hissed, out of the corner of his mouth.

Yuri almost laughed, but managed to school his features, his eyes remaining glued to the sight of Yuuri serenading the geezer his new husband. It pained him to admit it, but Katsudon’s lyrics perfectly fit their nauseatingly sappy love story, and his weepiness while singing, far from detracting from the performance, actually made this whole part of their reception pretty poignant.

“I’m waiting for the signal,” Yuri hissed back, knowing how cryptic that must have sounded.

“Very helpful,” Beka muttered in reply, and though he wasn’t looking at him, Yuri could just tell that he’d flashed him a sarcastic thumbs up. 

He was glad that his best friend’s DJ services wouldn’t be needed until later in the evening, because up until now, it had been fun to spend the afternoon with him and Mila, doing things like tallying the OCC: the Official Cry Count.

Yuuri was at 5 and Viktor was at 4, though Mila had argued just a few seconds ago that the geezer’s current bawling deserved to count as two separate tally marks.  

Yuri could tell that Katsudon was down to the final minute, and scanned his surroundings, flashing Minako and Kyoko a quick grin out of the corner of his eye. Who would have thought that Russian language lessons would bring those two lovebirds together?

Any second now…

Suddenly, Yuuri looked directly at him and tilted his head, and Yuri gave an imperceptible nod in response before setting off towards the Nishigori family.

Well out of Viktor’s line of sight – not that it would have really mattered, seeing as how he had his face buried in Katsudon’s neck, no doubt getting snot all over his extremely expensive custom suit – the five of them were gathered in a huddle, the triplets in the middle of giving rather militant instructions to their parents. 

“Remember, dad, enunciate! Sometimes you sound like you’re sleep-talking!” Lutz urged, her sisters nodding in agreement.

Takeshi opened his mouth in what was surely an act of protest, but Yuri decided to cut in, knowing they had limited time.

“So, he just gave me the signal. Feeling ready?” he whispered, giving a discreet wave to beckon Yuuri’s parents as well as Yakov and Lilia over.

Though they hadn’t outrightly said anything, Yuri knew that the latter two had been touched to have been invited to be a part of the speech as well; they might not have been related to Viktor by blood, but ever since Yakov had first discovered Viktor as a precocious ten year old, they’d shown him far more care and consideration than Ilia and Sonya Nikiforov ever had.

Hiroko practically skipped over and then beamed at Yuri, patting his head in the way that always made him feel rather warm inside. It was the same sensation he experienced when Katsudon complimented his Japanese speaking/reading progress.

“Yuri-kun, would you kindly tell my husband that he has no right to be more nervous than I am? I’m the one who has to go first!” Yuuko suddenly whispered, between gritted teeth.

Torn between laughing and nodding, Yuri looked to Takeshi, who appeared a bit green in complexion. He really hoped that he wasn’t about to have a panic attack, though thanks to having trained alongside Katsudon for the last 2+ years, Yuri was fairly confident that he could guide him through it (and maybe even avoid completely fucking things up).

“Ahhh, that’s…”

His voice trailed off and he gave her a bit of a helpless shrug, relieved when Mari joined their growing throng to complete the group.

She winked at him before accepting a laminated copy of their speech from Axel.

“What’s the OCC at? And, more importantly, what do you think it’ll be by the time this thing is done?”

He grinned before pretending to do some mental math.

“Infinity for your brother, and infinity plus 1 for the old man,” he quipped, feeling pleased when it seemed that she, plus Minako and Yuuko had understood, judging by their cackles.

“Ok, how about a motivational speech before we get started?” Toshiya suddenly spoke up, before clapping him on the back.

Yuri looked at him, feeling confused.

“Me? You think I’m the best person for that job?” he slowly (and doubtfully) asked, looking past all the tables full of seated guests.

Christ. 

Viktor was still apparently too overcome to lift his face from Katsudon’s neck, and, as usual, both men were caught up in their own little world. Yuuri was smiling and whispering to him, and he could see Phichit just behind them, his fingers moving so fast over the touchscreen of his phone that it was a wonder they hadn’t fallen off entirely.

“Well Yuuri is understandably occupied. Besides, we couldn’t have made it this far without your help. Not only did you somehow whip this bumbling pack of idiots into shape – figuratively speaking, of course, we’re not athletes – but you managed to teach us the most important part of the Russian language: how to properly swear!” Minako crowed, giving Hiroko a knowing jab with her elbow, which prompted them to break out into giggles

Yuri flushed, suddenly feeling a bit overwhelmed with all the attention.

It was true that he’d spent an inordinate amount of time “coaching” all 6 of the adults who were now eyeing him within their inconspicuous huddle, but it’s not like Yuri had gotten nothing out of it. 

His Japanese had improved by leaps and bounds, and…

…more importantly, he’d had fun. 

Yuri had already developed a friendship with Yuuko and Mari even before this all began, but through the course of the past ten months, he’d realized that he’d looked forward to conversing with Takeshi, Minako, Hiroko and Toshiya as well. None of them treated him like the clueless nineteen-year-old that they so easily could have, and much like Yuuri, there was an authenticity to their conversations. 

Yuri never got the sense that they were only talking to him for practice purposes. Even the somewhat reserved Toshiya clearly enjoyed their chats.

He hesitated, but forced himself to open his mouth. He could spin the moment into a joke, certainly, but he realized that he didn’t want to do that. Each one of them had worked hard, and they deserved to be taken seriously. 

“Ok, well, I’ll start by saying that you all should feel proud. I know that might sound like a joke coming out of my mouth, but truly…”

…

“Yuuuuu~ri, how could you make me cry so much?” Viktor tearfully joked, whipping out his Makka and Meni-printed handkerchief for what felt like the billionth time today. “Is this any way to begin our loving marriage, making your poor husband sob like a wee babe?!”

Yuuri gave a sniffly laugh, one that seemed tinged by a hint of nerves. Viktor wondered what the reason for it was, considering the brave (and swoon-worthy) gesture he’d just been treated to. While it wasn’t the first time he’d heard Yuuri sing live, he’d felt utterly floored by the fact that his new spouse had decided to perform for him in front of all their wedding guests.

“As if you have any room to talk after your perfectly enunciated Japanese vows, you hypocrite,” Yuuri replied, sounding extremely enamored in spite of his words. “Although…if you’re “complaining” now, I’m a little bit scared of what you’ll say in five minutes or so.

Yuuri pulled back to put some space between their bodies, and before Viktor could question what he meant by this, he looked over to where he was now pointing. 

A hush had fallen over the tent they were all standing under, and his eyebrows raised in surprise when he saw the small huddle of people on the second faux-stage that had been erected: Yakov, Lilia, Yuri, the Nishigori family, okaasan, tousan, neechan, and Minako.

“What’s going on?” he asked, the murmured words sounding loud in the abrupt stillness.

“You’ll see,” Yuuri answered with a sly-sort of grin, before leading them back to their table, in between the two stages.

Once they’d settled into their seats, Viktor watched as Yuuko stepped up to the microphone stand, holding what appeared to be a laminated piece of paper. She cleared her throat, looking nervous.

“ Vik-chan , please don’t faint. Your mind is probably scrambling to comprehend why these sounds are coming out of my mouth, and why my accent sounds so atrocious.”

A very, very distant part of Viktor’s mind registered that some of their guests were laughing, but he couldn’t pay attention to it, not with the shock that had suddenly begun coursing throughout his entire body.

Yuuko was speaking…in Russian?!

He felt like he was in a daze, and barely noticed it when Yuuri slipped a piece of paper into his hands. Viktor blinked, realizing that it contained a transcript of what she was saying, in both Japanese and English. 

At the very top of the page, it read: Viten’ka’s Welcome Speech.

“Don’t worry: you aren’t dreaming. I am really and truly standing here on this stage, on the day of your wedding to my childhood best friend, and I am speaking in Russian. Though, probably not very well, so I apologize. The reason for this is not simple, but it’s not exactly complicated, either. The short answer is that I am up here speaking in Russian because I have spent the last ten months learning how, at Yuuri’s request. And I’m not the only one.”

Viktor’s mouth dropped open as he continued to listen. 

Some of the words sounded a little off, and there was one point during which Yuuko messed up the verb conjugation for “speaking”, but he wasn’t focused on that. 

What was going on??

“I was really nervous to have to go first, but when you think about it, it makes sense. I was a fan of yours before Yuuri was, so by all accounts, I think you owe me for life, given that I’m the one that introduced him to you.”

More laughter, but again, Viktor was only vaguely aware of it. 

His eyes had started to well up after he’d heard her say “have to go first” because of what those words implied.

Could it be that he’d soon be hearing more Russian, from the others?

He turned to look at Yuuri, grounding himself in the kiss he pressed to his cheek, and the way he’d intertwined their fingers. His thumb stroked over Viktor's newly-placed wedding band.

“It’s kind of poetic, because Yuuri and I grew up trying to emulate your skating, and over the last ten months, I’ve been trying to emulate your native language. Learning it was very difficult and frustrating at times, but when I would get discouraged, I tried to remember that being part of a family often requires sacrifice.”

Fresh tears began to fall from his eyes after that last sentence, and Viktor continued to watch, transfixed, as Yuuko stepped back from the microphone stand. 

Minako took her place.

“I’ll admit, Vik-chan, when Yuuri first came to us last May and asked if we’d be willing to learn Russian, I had a few doubts. After all, at 33 years old, I’m no longer a youthful woman–”

Several guffaws rang out, though Viktor wouldn’t have been surprised if there was some confusion, as well; Minako could actually pass as a 33 year old if she wanted to.

His mind reeled to think of Yuuri making such an ask of his family and friends; he must have been incredibly anxious to show such vulnerability.

But he’d gone ahead and done so, anyway. As if Viktor had needed any more evidence of his husband’s determination…of the things Yuuri was willing to do to make him happy.

He brought a hand to his mouth to muffle the sob that threatened to slip at this reiteration and tried his best to clear his head in order to tune back into what Minako was saying.

“In all seriousness, we could all see that he recognized what a big ask it was to make, but he made a compelling case that burrowed deep into our hearts. So deep, that not once did any of us question why we would want to make such a sacrifice. Because the truth is, Vik-chan, when you first came to Hasetsu three years ago, this entire village bore witness to how you dove in, head-first. You have never been one to do things halfway, so maybe it shouldn’t have been such a surprise when we began to realize that you weren’t just committed to learning Japanese…you were committed to learning Saga-ben, which is a whole different beast.”

Hushed murmurs of agreement rippled around the tent, and Minako grinned, wryly.

“You weren’t just committed to learning the names of all of Hasetsu’s business owners, you were committed to learning their kids’ names, their hobbies and interests, their favorite snacks. And that’s not even speaking to the way you committed to coaching and supporting our Yuuri-kun.”

Like Yuuko, she stepped back from the microphone, and Takeshi took her place.

By this point, tears of gratitude and overwhelm were streaming down Viktor’s cheeks. Yuuri had leaned in close, using his own poodle-printed handkerchief to try wiping his face.

It was useless; the thing was already drenched. 

Viktor only half-processed how Christophe zipped over, somehow possessing 6 fresh handkerchiefs that he dropped in front of him. 

Even as he listened to Takeshi speak – conveying how he’d carefully observed him and Yuuri interacting every day at Ice Castle 3 years ago, and the way his tentative regard for him had transformed, morphing from tacit approval to outright affection when Takeshi realized how Viktor had committed to embracing not just Yuuri, but Hasetsu, whole-heartedly – a part of Viktor's attention was elsewhere.

Because he was still trying to wrap his head around what was unfolding.

Yuuko, Minako, Takeshi…

Neechan, okaasan, tousan…

They had all learned Russian. 

Or, in Yuri’s case and the triplets’ case and his husband’s case, had all come together to pull off this secret scheme, as he learned from Mari's portion of the speech.

For nearly a year, they’d juggled formal lessons and practice conversations, had foregone sleep and sacrificed their free time, all for him. 

It was when Viktor heard Yakov speaking in that choked-up way that he’d only heard once, maybe twice before in his life – saying that he felt honored to have been asked to stand on the stage as part of Viktor’s vibrant family – that the realization hit.

He started to sob. 

Viktor was facing his expanded family: the numerous precious people who were all so eager and willing to repair the cracks of loneliness and parental rejection in his heart…to fill them with gold, like the most gorgeous, lovingly rendered kintsugi.

Much as his new spouse had had to pause mid-way through his song, the speech paused in order to allow both him and Yuuri to attempt to regain their composure.

He and Yuuri clung to each other with almost comical desperation, and Viktor began to shake when he realized that okaasan and tousan had wandered over to put their arms around them as well.

“Thank you. Thank you so much,” he wept, not embarrassed in the slightest by the way he tried to reciprocate their touch, flinging his arms out to embrace his in-laws.

“I won’t say welcome to the family, because you have been part of this family for quite some time, now,” okaasan whispered in reply, her own eyes covered by a sheen of tears. “But I will say that it is nice to be able to speak to you in the language that has raised and shaped you through many seasons. Many wonderful seasons that have brought you to us, where you belong.”

Viktor leaned into her warmth, feeling bolstered by the kiss she dropped to the very top of his head.

Dear God…as if there could ever be enough handkerchiefs.

…

4 hours later

“Owww…my nose is still stuffed-up, lyubimiy⁶. And my eyes hurt more than my feet,” Yuuri pouted, turning his puffy, red-rimmed gaze onto Viktor. 

Scratch that. 

Onto his husband. 

“And what, exactly, do you expect me to do about that? I’m in the same boat you are, anata⁷,” Viktor cheekily replied, though he did pick up his hand and press a sweet kiss to his shiny new wedding band.

The two of them were taking a much needed break from dancing, and had spent the last few minutes feeling thoroughly entertained by the unhinged antics of their various wedding guests.

About two minutes ago, a thoroughly sloshed Lilia had stumbled over to them, raving about the genius flavor notes of their custom Stammi Vicino cocktails. He and Viktor had done spittakes at the sight of her with her hair down (a visual that Viktor had insisted was a once-in-a-lifetime thing, and probably not even something she’d allowed at her own wedding). 

“Aren’t you two supposed to be professional athletes? How is it that you’re taking a dancing break before I am?” his sister quipped, before collapsing into the chair next to his.

A retort instantly flew to the tip of Yuuri’s tongue, but the sound of Viktor’s sniffling brought him up short.

“Again?! Vik-chan, it’s been hours since you found out! Surely the shock has worn off by now?” Mari-neechan asked, sounding a bit incredulous. 

“You can’t be mean to me, it’s my wedding day!” Viktor replied, giggling a bit through his (fresh) tears. 

Yuuri’s heart flip-flopped at the reminder that he could now communicate with Mari in two languages. It was a fact that filled him with awe, though he realized he’d have to ignore how this also meant they’d be able to conspire against him much more easily.

“Of course I can be mean to you, you’re officially my little brother now,” his sister replied, leaning over to flick him on the forehead. “But actually, I come bearing news from Christophe.”

A frisson of trepidation licked up Yuuri’s spine at the sudden gleam in her eyes.

“He says that the pole is almost ready, and that Minako-sensei is going to create a diversion, which will take care of mom and dad and some of the other potential pearl-clutchers. Here’s your outfit,” she remarked, before passing Viktor a large bag that he hadn’t seen her carrying over.

Yuuri’s stomach lurched, his mind tripping over the Russian he thought he’d heard tumble from her lips. Had he been sucked into a wormhole, transported back to December 2015?!

“That was ‘police’, right?” he panickedly inquired, beginning to swivel his head between the two of them. (Though, honestly, was ‘police’ really better than ‘pole’, considering the circumstances?)

“Neechan, please tell me that you made a mistake…that your Russian is still rusty and that you definitely did not just say ‘pole’!” he begged, all too aware of how Viktor’s heart-shaped smile had now fully emerged.

“I feel quite offended on behalf of neechan, my Yuuri! She did not learn Russian for nearly a year to make such a rookie mistake!” Viktor sing-songed, sounding far too matter-of-fact, considering that he’d just pulled out a pair of lacy, white Pleaser shoes from the bag that Mari had passed over. 

“Sit back and get comfortable, Katsuki-Nikiforov. I’m about to show everyone why we’re true pole-mates!” he went on, before blowing him a kiss.

Yuuri almost fell out of his chair at that implication, weakly calling after his husband as he sauntered away. He was pretty sure Viktor had just spoken in English, but suddenly his words seemed incomprehensible. 

Impossible…

“Say what, now?! VITYA!!”

End.

Footnotes:

1. As per the linked info on Hanakotoba, violets denote honesty, bluebells denote gratitude, and sunflowers denote respect…all aspects of their relationship that I imagine Viktor and Yuuri would consider key :)
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2. My headcanon is that Yuuri and Viktor would have wanted to have both a traditional Shinto ceremony (which would have taken place at a shrine), as well as a more casual beachside ceremony/reception, the latter being what ends up taking place in the back courtyard of Yu-topia
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3. Romanized version of the Russian term of endearment translating to “sunbeam”. This endearment is gendered male
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4. My headcanon is that as much as they both love the onsen, Yuuri and Viktor would have wanted to have some privacy during their off-season visits to Hasetsu. As such, they purchased their own condo the previous summer (2017), and Mari, especially, thanked them for it, lol
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5. If you’ve read my other fics, you may already know that one of my favorite headcanons is that Yuuri is a talented singer. While I imagine that this would take a lot of hyping up (as well as assorted pep talks from Phichit and others), his wedding gift for Viktor is an original song that he writes/performs at their reception. And as for Viktor’s wedding gift(s), you will have to keep reading :)
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6. Romanized version of the Russian term of endearment translating to “beloved”. This endearment is gendered male.
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7. This is a pretty old-fashioned endearment that you might have heard before if you watch a lot of anime. My understanding is that this is similar to the English endearment “dear”, and something that Japanese wives will use for their husbands. Viktor and Yuuri are delighted to be able to use it, now that they are officially wedded :’)
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