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fifteenleads · 5 years

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The Gift

Written for the @yoilitmag (Third Issue).

Drip.

Drip. Drip.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Yuuri tried to ignore the saliva trickling down his shoulder that only he could feel. One’s first instinct would usually be to jump away from the source of the disgusting matter - or scream, whichever came first. He certainly did, as a child, but no one really understood him.

That said, though, Yuuri never really had a normal childhood.

It was unnerving, to say the least, how he even got used to all this in the first place-- that is to say, he never did. He remembered how he could only sit dully on the floor as his mother cried and begged the temple priest to “please exorcise the living demons out of this child” while hugging him so tight, he thought he’d lose his own living breath instead.

Not a good memory to look back on.

He’d learned to keep quiet in middle school - certainly no one would think any better of a plain, bespectacled boy who could see… things he shouldn’t see. Back then, he was called a handful of names, each as hurtful as the other. Crying only made things worse; besides, the “things,” for some reason, enjoyed seeing him in tears.

By high school, Yuuri was practically nonexistent in his class, aside from the occasional rumor that he was a ghost and that he could curse people - funny how their assumptions were both correct and far off at the same time. He whiled away his time in the library, studying the creatures that bothered him and using what he learned to his advantage. He had always been an observant boy; adapting came easier to him than to most.

Still, he wished he didn’t have this “gift.” Not that wishes ever came true, anyway.

Sighing, Yuuri finished his water in a few gulps and put the glass down with a heavy thud. The startled black blob with a single eye distanced itself before letting out an unnaturally high-pitched squeal, which he pretended not to notice. These types tended to leave him after five minutes of no attention.

He asked for the bill after that.

Researching Russia’s yokai sounded like a good idea right now. It always helped to be prepared.

The rusalka did not at all resemble its likeness in pictures.

For starters, it was a male, albeit with long hair. Looked like a female, but not quite.

The first thing Yuuri thought as he ran away was that he shouldn’t have consulted Wikipedia in the first place.

In his twenty-three years of life, he’d never had the unpleasant experience of turning people down, even more so nonhuman beings that are apparently after his heart. He remembered Takeshi joking about what he’d do if he ended up with a yokai lover someday. Yuuri couldn’t help but chuckle inwardly at the brief memory; Takeshi and Yuuko were the only two people who even befriended him at all. Good people, they really were.

This predicament, he thought next, must have been his punishment for not having been a more sociable person. Maybe he should have confessed to Victor Nikiforov or something when he had the chance - he didn’t know.

The third thing he thought as he fell on the pavement and the rusalka pounced on him was that he was going to die. A relief in itself, but not quite.

None of it was.

A cool breeze awakened Yuuri from his slumber. He instinctively put an arm over his eyes; even the faintest light hurt. As he gingerly sat himself up on the grass, the claw marks on his forearm began to itch.

The creature after his life was gone for now, at least. Great.

It didn’t take him long to regain his bearings; granted, he always had to keep himself on guard for so long now, it was almost as easy as feeding himself.

Yuuri was not prepared for what came next, however.

Before him stood what seemed to look like an old two-storey dacha with slate roof tiles and a varnished wood exterior, surrounded by a well-maintained garden of white flowers. A wooden door with iron lattice-work served as the main entrance. The whole sight was very much out of place, located smack dab in between various high-rise apartments for some reason.

It felt as if he stepped into a totally different dimension, altogether.

Yuuri carefully approached the house, peering into the windows apprehensively. It was only after ascertaining that no one was in that he let himself in.

The interior smelled of a mixture of old wood and light mildew, the kind that reminded him of the local temple back at home. As he ventured deeper inside, he was greeted by the sight of circular shelves of books, with sunlight filtering through a dome made of stained glass. It was eerily quiet, yet comforting at the same time.

Maybe too quiet.

Following his best judgment, Yuuri slowly backed away once more. If past experience has taught him well, it wouldn’t do to stay too long in suspicious places alone.

As he turned around to leave, he bumped into something warm.

Victor Nikiforov stared back, his blue eyes twinkling in amusement. Long, silver hair reflected the pale sunlight, and his clothes, though unusually shabby, looked as if they glittered like gold.

Yuuri instantly forgot how to breathe.

“Where exactly am I?”

“A library, as you can see. Not an ordinary one, though, as you’ve probably guessed.”

This is definitely not how Yuuri imagined how his first conversation with Victor would go. He’d only seen the Russian star once or twice on TV during the last Winter Games, but for some reason, Victor was the last person he thought of before he ended up in this… situation.

“Are you really… Victor?”

This earned a chuckle in response, and the dimple that formed when he smiled was adorable. “Yes and no. Do I look like him to you?”

With an audible gulp, Yuuri nodded.

“Then I am Victor.”

Victor - or whoever this was, smiled warmly at him. “Why this person?”

The question, spoken in Victor’s voice, from Victor’s own lips, was nothing short of strange, to say the least. The resemblance was definitely more than striking, it was like he was exactly the same person. For Yuuri, however, this did not explain anything.

After a moment of contemplation, Victor laughed heartily. “I see. You must be fond of him.”

Yuuri promptly choked on his water, heat rising in his cheeks.

“Say, Yuuri,” Victor pronounced his name in a gentle croon, “tell me more about yourself.”

Yuuri found himself leaving from university much earlier than usual these days. The traffic was much less than during rush hour, leaving him with more time to explore the city. He’d get off a stop before his apartment every time, taking a shortcut through the park.

The library waited for him every time he emerged from the forest, looking the same as it did when he first arrived. So did Victor, with cups of tea in hand and a fond smile on his lips.

Yuuri at once noticed how no creatures dared to approach him whenever he was in the vicinity of the library. Rather, it was as if he ceased to be able to see them during these times. The relief he felt at this was indescribable, as if the walls around him were taken down and he could breathe freely once more.

“You have that gift, it seems,” Victor once told him in observation. “One that attracts the fae and their favors to you. As with most things, it is both a blessing and a curse.”

It was not at all surprising, Yuuri thought, considering how often he attracted trouble and found himself in problematic, even life-threatening situations for as long as he could remember. Still, he was glad things turned out this way, what with all of it leading up to meeting and spending time with one of his favorite people this often.

He was painfully aware that this was not Victor Nikiforov, but still. Still.

A couple of weeks passed, and Yuuri started spending all-nighters in the library doing his homework. Dinner was always a hearty experience, even with just the two of them exchanging stories over piping hot soup and meat pies. It was evident how much Victor enjoyed having someone around after so long, having expressed as much to Yuuri one night over fruit and wine.

“Twenty-three is quite a small number, if you ask me. You still have a lot to learn.”

“You’re not much older, either, Victor.”

“At least I’m young and handsome. I’ll miss looking like this after you stop coming here.”

And it pained Yuuri to see the longing in those blue eyes, but he knew that this, too, will soon end.

Still, he wished it never would. Not that wishes ever came true, anyway.

He was terribly, painfully aware of that.

One day, Victor gave Yuuri an old picture book.

It was a thin, hard-bound copy of what seemed like an old Russian fairy tale, if the colorful phoenix was of any indication. Yuuri began to untie the straw cord that was wrapped around it, but Victor immediately seized his hand.

“Don’t open it yet,” he said, a bit too firmly than what Yuuri was used to. He caught himself quickly, however, immediately loosening his grip.

“It’s a surprise, Yuuri,” he added, with a forced smile. And as if that weren’t cryptic enough: “Promise me.”

The look in Victor’s eyes pleaded with Yuuri to not ask. It hurt so much.

“... Okay, I guess. But how do I know?”

“Trust me, you’ll know when.”

Yuuri often recalled this moment, as Victor suddenly became more distant from him. They still spent time together every day, but fewer and fewer words were exchanged between them, until everything blurred into a massive cloud of awkward silence.

The book-- Victor’s gift, remained their sole connection to each other. It was constantly by his side, reminding him of the friendship they had. The day he’d gotten it felt like it only happened yesterday, and he would regret--

Even though he promised not to open it.

Blinking back his tears, Yuuri excused himself, asking to go home.

He saw, too, in the way Victor’s blue eyes were dark and hazy, how much this hurt him-- both of them. But he wanted to believe, still. There had to be a reason.

It came the next day, unexpectedly, when Yuuri found an empty lot where the library used to stand.

Yuuri didn’t know how long he had been asleep for. His body felt unusually exhausted for some reason, and it felt as if he’d forgotten something for the day. Nothing in his apartment was out of place, however, and the trash had already been brought out.

He can’t even remember what he had been crying about.

He decided to get food, just in case.

Every step he took away from the building felt heavy, and a voice repeatedly echoed in his mind to return home. He did not heed it, deeming himself far past the stage of fearing monsters at his age.

There are no monsters, Yuuri told himself, before moving on.

It did not assuage the unease in his heart at all.

Something-- something , nagging at the back of his mind--

No sooner had he exited the bakery than the ground shook beneath his feet, causing him to lose balance and fall hard on his back. The few people left on the street started running for cover, one of whom dropped a handful of silver coins that rolled to where he lay. The resulting reflection of lights blinded Yuuri, and for a moment he thought he saw an old house on fire, a flash of silver hair--

“Forgive me.”

The bread rolls Yuuri bought joined the coins on the floor, dirtied and forgotten.

Yuuri’s lungs burned painfully, the need for oxygen rapidly overtaking the fatigue in his legs. But he ran, still, as far as his legs would take him. He didn’t know where he was headed, but his body seemed to remember where to go.

There was somewhere-- someone he needed to be with.

And he was close-- very, terribly close--

He finally collapsed on the pavement before a seemingly-empty lot, where a dilapidated, empty house burned brightly between rows of apartments. Heavy chains clinked in the distance, as if being dragged, growing louder by the second.

The last thing Yuuri heard is his name being shouted in agony before his world turned black.

“--uri! Yuuri! Wake up!”

Yuuri was vigorously shaken awake by firm hands and an panicked voice, claws digging deep into his shoulders. The air around him was hot, and the sky blackened with thick smoke.

Without warning, he found himself being pulled away by another set of claws much longer than the first. He is greeted by a large, humanoid creature with long, stringy hair, a scarred, blackened face, and pointed teeth.

“Mine,” it hissed. “You’re mine.”

The rusalka .

It had come back to take his life.

Yuuri’s eyed promptly widened in terror. He was going to die this time, for real.

All of a sudden, everything came rushing back-- the creatures, the house, Victor--

Suddenly, as if an answer to his unsaid prayer, chains were wrapped around the rusalka’s neck, causing it to fall to the ground as it gasped for breath. The first set of arms wrapped themselves around him, and there was Victor again, crying on his shoulder.

“Yuuri… Yuuri…”

Still bewildered, Yuuri raised a hand to gently stroke Victor’s hair. It was not the thick, shiny, perfectly maintained mane that he once knew from before-- that is to say, there was none. His face was that of an older man’s, with multiple wrinkles and scars, and pointed ears akin to those of elven folk. Only the voice it produced was that of Victor’s, Yuuri realized.

But how, he wanted to ask. He did not understand.

“ Domovoy, ” Victor spoke, as if sensing Yuuri’s confusion. “In a sense, I am what you’d call a household god, similar to your country’s zashiki-warashi .”

“I was supposed to protect this library at all costs. But I was weak.” Victor laughs dejectedly, tears running down his aged eyes. “I couldn’t prevent this from happening. I couldn’t protect you.”

Yuuri bit his lip, slowly putting everything together. “You knew it was coming back. So you sent me away.”

“Oh, who knows?” Victor’s hold on Yuuri suddenly weakened, his strength finally leaving him.

“Victor!”

“No, Yuuri, listen to me.” Victor looked up at him, his ocean blue ones clearer than ever despite his appearance. “You are strong. You know this. Think of everything you’ve been through.

“Stop talking, please!”

“Those hardships you’ve been through-- don’t let it go to waste. Only you can decide what to make of them.”

Yuuri did not respond anymore, cradling Victor’s form in his trembling arms. Smiling, Victor produced a worn, rusted band, placing it into the center of Yuuri’s palm. “A remembrance of me?”

It was very much like him, Yuuri thought, charming until the last moment. He might have loved Victor-- this domovoy , he realized. Was it because he was Victor, or was it something else? Why did all this happen?

Yuuri wept silently as everything faded away, and he was left there, all alone.

He’d never know now.

A year passed in the blink of an eye.

Everyone was surprised at how much more outgoing Yuuri had now become. Minako had been the most shocked, immediately attributing the change to a newfound boyfriend.

“But I don’t have one, Minako- sensei .”

“Then explain that ring on your finger,” she accused. “You don’t just suddenly get an ancient heirloom like that from anywhere. Now spill.”

Had Takeshi known of this, too, he wouldn’t ever hear the end of it. Funny really, how things turned out. Victor certainly would laugh.

“It’s… a charm,” he settled on saying. “From someone I got to know.”

“Hmmmm,” Minako nodded slowly, unconvinced. This Yuuri did not deign to reply. It was, after all, a part-truth, in his defense. He noted how he isn’t able to see the creatures ever since he had it in his possession. It was as if Victor had set him free, in a way.

The ring, although very important in itself, was not as close to his heart as Minako thought.

Once she finally left him alone, Yuuri brought out the old picture book from his bag. Its cover had lost much of its shine over the past year, and its pages have slowly become tattered. He flipped through each page slowly, tears brimming in his eyes.

A story was written on it, in Yuuri’s own handwriting.

It took him half a year to get over everything that had happened, before he finally decided it was time to read the book Victor had given him. It was all blank paper, save for the first page, on which were written: “Once upon a time.”

It was his second most precious treasure.

Meeting Victor was the first.

He was the gift that changed Yuuri’s life.

#yuri!!! on ice #yoilitmag #katsuki yuuri #victor nikiforov #magus bride OVA AU

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