I’ve been waiting to post this for ages so it could go up with the chapter it’s from and AT LAST!!! Happy Friday the 13th! (at least it is for me here)
My 2nd commissioned piece from @bev-nap who is a literal goddess among mortals. Look at this. Look at my grumpy son, isn’t he gorgeous?! I’m still squealing internally and externally over this and I don’t think I’ll be done anytime soon ^_^
Every day is spent feeling Yuuri out,
fitting them together in a way that doesn’t destroy who either of them is as a
person. Viktor loves that they fit this way; loves that he has sharp edges and
awkward corners and that Yuuri still folds around them, that together they
Yuuri continually surprises Viktor, but Hiroko is another matter entirely.
Yuuri is forbidden from watching his
competitors, at least in the few days before Rostelecom. This doesn’t mean that
Viktor can’t watch—so after Yuuri’s disappeared to his room to briefly
recharge, Viktor settles to watch a recording of the Trophee de France. Hiroko
bustles around him, wiping away the last remnants of the dinner rush and
clearing bottles of sake. He offers to help, but she shakes her head and hums
her disagreement. Viktor’s still not sure how much English she knows. Viktor’s
still not sure how much Japanese he knows, in Hasetsu’s dialect. There are
times when she beams and nods and chatters to him slowly, clearly, and there
are other times where she falls silent, smile warm but vague.
Viktor has long suspected that it isn’t
just a language barrier. There is private, and then there are the Katsukis.
Still, the onsen is quiet, devoid of
guests except one tipsy gentleman that is already snoring softly into the table
he sits at. Viktor pats the ground beside him. “Mama?” Mama, a word Hiroko had insisted he use and one he’s taken gross
advantage of ever since. She kneels, lays a hand atop his.
“It’s late, Vicchan. Late for you.”
“I’m on the free skate,” he explains,
“just a little more time.”
She glances at the screen, and Viktor
can only imagine what her inexperienced eye sees. A man, in a sparkling outfit,
moving from a nameless spin into a jump whose rotations she probably doesn’t
realize to count. ‘Somehow, the Katsukis
don’t know anything about figure skating!’ The triplets had declared.
Viktor will adjust. “Good music, isn’t it, Mama?”
Hiroko huffs, breath slight. “Doesn’t
matter,” she declares, “if he wants to beat my Yuuri, he’ll need better base
value than that, especially with his GOEs. Ah, but he’s young, so his mistake
on the takeoff of the triple axel is…” she gestures, small and soft hand incapable
of grabbing the word in English. She settles, finally, on a different word.
“Normal? Yuuri did the same. Hm. This boy, though, they overscore his
transitions and choreography.”
Viktor is too elegant to gape, or so he
had always thought. “Mama,” he says, slowly, “have you been studying figure
skating this season?” Mari has only now found her interest—perhaps it’s spread
to her parents, as well.
Rather than answer, Hiroko stands. “My
son doesn’t like pressure, Vicchan. Yuuri works very hard. We support him, but
we must be careful, yes?”
Viktor had assumed that the onsen and
Yuuri’s family, in all their unconditional love, was an accidental haven for
Yuuri. If Yuuri can be a dime-a-dozen skater—if Yuuri can be a man not under
the tremendous pressure that comes with world records and being one of the best
six skaters in the nation, Yuuri can begin to cope.
Yuuri needs someone to believe in him,
and trust him, without expectation. If Yuuri can be a man who returns home to
parents who aren’t invested in, don’t understand, the world of skating…
“Careful,” Hiroko repeats, Hiroko who is
not even supposed to know the first thing about skating, “yes?”
Oh, Viktor is always a stroke behind,
when it comes to anyone named Katsuki. They know their beloved Yuuri so well. They
know his sport, too.
“Yes. Thank you, Mama.”
“You are a good son,” says Hiroko before
she shuffles off. Viktor gives up on the Trophee de France, and finds himself
at Yuuri’s door. Let us love you.
At the sight of him Yuuri lights up,
quiet and bright, and he holds out his arms.
it really bothers me when people reduce what happened here to Mikasa thinking that she should at least confess her feelings to Eren
because they were gonna die even if that was also something that was conveyed along with what she said, that was NOT what prompted her words!
just hate how much this implies that Mikasa didn’t care about anything
that was going on and just decided to take a selfish moment to herself
not caring about Eren’s state and feelings, when it’s the absolute opposite!
what prompted Mikasa’s words was exactly seeing Eren in that desperate state!
she thought they were gonna die and she didn’t want him to go like
that, depressed and self-loathing and feeling useless, she didn’t want
their last moment to be that way!
and her point and feelings reached him, because Eren stopped wallowing in his self-hatred and decided to stand up
protecting the people he loves! and that’s the whole beauty of the moment!
words made Eren realize his worth and that he was never useless, Eren’s words made Mikasa
realize he would always be there for her, if Eren wasn’t able to control the titans then and that was indeed their last
moment, they still wouldn’t have regretted going like that!