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Kintsugi, the Art of the Broken

Summary:

Sometimes, the broken can be put together, and their cracks are sealed with gold. Sometimes, our imperfections make us perfect. Sometimes, we come out better than ever.

Notes:

I do this too much. I have another fic I started that's similar to this, so if you like this one, check it out. I'm so horrible to Yuuri.

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Chapter 1: New Rinkmate

Chapter Text

“Gather ‘round! I’ve got an announcement for you!” Yakov yelled into the rink. Viktor stopped and skated over, wondering what this was about, because last time Yakov had announced something, it was his two month long vacation, and if there was one of those now, three months before his next competition, he was doomed.

“I wanted to let you know that I’m taking on a new student.” This piqued everyone’s interest. They hadn’t had a new member in almost 3 years, so now everyone was much older. It would be weird to have a kid around the place.

“When are they coming, and how old are they?” Georgi asked. Yakov nodded, having expected this question. “He’s coming today, and he’s 19. And no,” he continued when Viktor made a surprised face, “I am not his first coach. He’s been skating for, well forever, and he’s really good. He’s also the son of an old friend of mine, so be kind.” Everyone nodded, before going back to what they were doing. Viktor turned to leave, but he was stopped by a hand on his shoulder. “Vitya, could you show him around? He’ll need a room here, since he doesn’t have a place to stay yet.” “Sure, Yakov, no problem.”

In truth, Viktor was annoyed, because he didn’t want to spend time with some lame skater who was probably obsessed with him. Then again, Yakov had complimented him, so if he was good, then maybe he didn’t care about meeting Viktor.

The group continued to skate for a few more hours before the door bell chimed. They all turned, knowing that the newcomer had probably arrived.

Through the door walked a young Japanese man. His black hair was combed back, revealing beautiful red-brown eyes that were framed by surprisingly long eyelashes. His cheeks were painted a bright red from the cold outside and he was dressed in a thin jacket and skin tight jeans. His body was lean and muscled, looking incredibly fit.

Viktor gulped. He hoped this was only a delivery boy, because if his new rink mate was this beautiful, he would never be able to concentrate on skating.

His prayers went unanswered as Yakov approached the man, clapped him on the back, and exclaimed, “Katsuki, nice to see you again!” Then, a little gentler, “How are you?” This was answered with a simple nod of the head, as if that was a suitable answer.

Everyone else at the rink was shocked. Yakov had never been this nice to someone in their presence before. They had no idea that he was capable of being kind, even if it was to the son of his friends.

When the newcomer, Katsuki, as Yakov called him, looked at the rest of them on the ice, Viktor shook himself from his shock and approached the younger man. “Hi,” he said, extending his hand for the other to shake. “I’m Viktor. You must be the new student Yakov told us about. Got a name?”

The noirette took his hand and shook it so briefly it could barely count as a handshake, and said with the same blank face he had on since entering, “Katsuki Yuuri.” “Er-,” Yakov interrupted, “he means Yuuri Katsuki. He’s Japanese, so they say their names the other way round.”

“Then we’ll have two Yuri’s,” Viktor stated with a small smile. It was not returned by the recipient. Yakov interrupted their conversation, if you call it that, again. “Actually, the names are spelled differently. This Yuuri has two “u”’s. We can call the other Yuri, Yurio.”

Viktor chuckled nervously at that. “He won’t like that. Have fun dealing with an angry, moody teenager, Yakov.”

As other people started introducing themselves to Yuuri, Yakov and Viktor moved a bit further from the growing group, but still watched.

“He doesn’t talk much,” Viktor observed. “Does he not speak English?” Yakov shook his head. “Nah, English isn’t his first language, but he can speak it flawlessly, no accent or anything. In fact, he probably speaks it better than you. He’s just, quiet, but he has his reasons.” Viktor nodded, accepting the answer and wondering if the other man would ever speak more than 2 words to him.

The rest of his rink mates introduced themselves, only earning a nod from Yuuri, who seemed satisfied with his single introduction. He even pretended not to have seen Mila’s hand extended to him for a shake.

Suddenly, there was a huge bang! Yuuri jumped hard, startling badly while the rest of the team looked unfazed, having expected it, except for Yakov, who looked worried.

The door to the ice rink had been slammed open by the other Yuri, who had started shouting, “Why is everyone saying my name so much?!? I’m trying to sleep upstairs, but you assholes are so loud!”

Yakov had moved over to Yuuri, who did not look well. He was gripping the edge of the rink with one hand, his knuckles white, and the other was fisted in his jacket, over his stomach. His red-brown eyes were glassy, and his breathing was a little strained. Yakov put two fingers on his elbow, and this seemed to shake Yuuri out of whatever trance he was in. It was then that Viktor realized that he and Yakov were the only ones who had noticed the miniature panic attack the 19 year old had just had, and that the other Yuri was still yelling. He decided to explain things before the situation got out of control. He could figure out what had happened with the new member afterwards.

He interrupted Yuri’s ranting by saying, “We weren’t talking about you. We’ve got a new member, and his name is Yuri too.”

“What?!??!!” Yuri screeched. “There can’t be two Yuri’s here!” “Agreed. That’s why Yakov came up with the idea that we will call you Yurio, and the other Yuuri will keep his name.”

“What!” He said, turning to Yakov and Yuuri. “Why would- who’s that?” He questioned, looking at Yuuri. Yakov removed his hand from Yuri’s elbow. “This is the new member, Yuuri. Yuuri, meet Yurio.” The nickname was answered with a growl, but Yuuri paid the angry demeanour no mind, and he offered the younger a nod, as he had everyone else. Yurio seemed surprised by the lack of a verbal greeting for a few seconds, and then demanded, “If you’re new here, is Yakov your first coach? Aren’t you too old to only start skating now?” To everyone’s surprise, Yuuri answered instead of Yakov this time. “No, he’s not my first coach, and I’m 19. I’ve been skating since I was 4, but I had to take a few months off for personal reasons. I started skating again 2 months ago and that’s when Yakov offered to take me as his student since my old coach dumped me after my break. We’re also old family friends, so that’s how I knew him before.”

The long answer was surprising, but what was even more surprising was that Yakov had taken on a student who had only started to practice for 2 months after a break. Either Yuuri was fantastic or they were really good family friends. It was probably the former because Yakov was never swayed by any relationships he had, and treated everyone the same, and never favoured anyone.

“Yuuri was the top skater of Japan, and he made it into the Grand Priz final with all golds, but he had some personal things going on so he had to stop skating for a while and he missed the competition.” Yurio grunted again and said, “You better not drag my name through the mud, pig. I have a reputation to keep up, and you having the same name and skating like shit would look bad on me!”

Yuuri nodded again, saying, “I will be sure to show your name no disrespect, “ in the most serious tone ever, his face as expressionless as ever. No one was sure what to make of it. Was he being sarcastic, or was he fully serious? The real question was how Yurio was going to take it, and whether or not he would go of on the older boy.

There were a few seconds of silence and then-“Good.” And with that Yurio strode off, leaving the rink and it’s occupants behind. Yuuri stared after him for a few seconds, before turning back to Yakov and asking, “Will I be staying here?” to which Yakov assured he would be, and called Viktor over to take him to his room. Yuuri pickup his few bags (why did he have so few?) and they were on their way. Now that Viktor had met him, he was much more willing to show Yuuri to his room, as he knew that he wasn’t an obnoxious fanboy like most, or a rude delinquent like Yurio. Although, it did help that he wasn’t hard on the eyes.

As he lead them down the hall, the two walked in silence, Yuuri trailing a little further behind, observing his surroundings. They reached the room that was to be his, and Viktor opened the door, revealing a small drab room, bare except for a mattress in one corner, a dresser with three drawers and a closet with two hangers. Yuuri stepped into the room, looking around the small space, as Viktor stood awkwardly in the doorway.

“Sorry it’s so small, but we don’t have any other rooms except for Yurio’s, and good luck kicking him out.” Yuuri shook his head, saying, “It’s good. I don’t really want a bigger space.”

Viktor nodded, although he didn’t understand that one bit. He had always loved big, open spaces which gave you the freedom to move around and not feel claustrophobic. But if Yuuri liked it, no complaints.

After just standing there for a few moments as Yuuri looked around his new living space, Viktor spoke. “So, um, need anything else?” Yuuri shook his head, and Viktor took that as his cue to leave. He bid the younger man farewell and left.

What a strange man, Viktor thought as he left the building. He would be sure to ask Yakov more about him later, seeing as Yuuri probably wouldn’t answer questions about himself, judging from how closed off he was.

But he had other things to worry about, namely the upcoming competition which he still needed to choreograph. He could think about the newcomer later.

Notes:

The start is really bad, but I'm working on the next chapter, so hopefully that'll be better.