A/N: I told myself I wasn't going to start a new fic, but here we are. This was meant to be a one shot, but rather than make a really long one shot, I am posting it in short increments so it can get out of my head and I can actually go live my life. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I don't own Yuri on Ice!

It had actually been Yurio's idea to expand Viktor's role as a coach and find more students. Like most of Yurio's ideas, it had been suggested in an off-hand, angry sort of way, like it really didn't matter to him whether or not Viktor had more people to coach, but if he was calling himself a coach, shouldn't he be doing more than just coaching one person?

All things considered, Viktor and Yuuri had been very happy to take Yurio's suggestion to heart, and so Viktor had packed up and flown from their studio-slash-home base in Oregon to San Francisco, on his first stop to observe a new crop of young skaters and look out for any burgeoning talent. The managers of the rink he visited were very happy to receive him, particularly after he explained why he was there, and had been more than willing to show off their most promising youngsters to him.

And they had been good, no question about that. All very earnest, very promising young skaters. But while Viktor had a reputation for being flighty, he was also very picky. He wasn't sure what he was looking for, but whatever it was that had drawn him to Yuuri (as a skater, at least), he hadn't found it yet. He made some comforting platitudes about having a lot of places to visit and a lot of people to consider, and if he could just have their information, he would call them when he could. That settled, he shook hands with the rink managers and turned to leave, and that was when he stopped, looking out over the rink.

The young teenagers had been swept off the ice following their exhibition, and the rink had been opened up to what looked like a children's class. A group of young children skated out over the ice, their movements uncertain. They clung to each other in a pack, huddling close as they followed their teacher.

Except for one girl. She skated alone.

The girl was skating around the edge of the rink, her back towards the other children as she completed a full circuit. Occasionally, she twirled and spun, but it wasn't with the sort of carefree abandon that Viktor had seen in other children. Her expression was uncommonly solemn, her hands held out to either side of her. The clothes she was wearing showed some wear, a gray coat that seemed a size too big for her, a shirt that hung oddly on her body. Her skates were skates that had been borrowed from the rink. She was being watched by a solemn young woman in business-attire, one that bore no resemblance to the girl at all.

"—Mr. Nikiforov?"

Viktor started, realizing suddenly that he was being spoken to. He looked over his shoulder to see the rink manager hovering somewhere behind him, very eager to show in the door and maybe get one last word in about their students. Viktor waved him off and all but jogged down the steps to speak to the woman.

"Excuse me," he said, in his accented English. The woman looked up, taking in his suit, his silver hair and blue eyes. She didn't seem to recognize him at all. Not a skating fan, Viktor supposed. He inclined his head towards the girl skating along the edge of the rink. "Do you know that child?"

The woman blinked in surprise. "Uh—yes," she said. "Yes, of course. I'm her caseworker."

Caseworker. He was starting to see the shape of things.

"She likes to skate," he said, as if he was making a casual observation.

"She picked it up from her foster siblings," the woman said. "She really seems to enjoy it." Something about this seemed to make her sad, and she lowered her eyes to the floor. Viktor frowned at her.

"She isn't going to skate anymore?" he asked.

"Well, it will depend, I suppose," the woman said.

"Depend on what?"

"On where her next family lives."

Hm. Well that was an interesting thought.

"She isn't staying with the family she's with now?"

The woman pursed her lips, as if she wasn't sure whether she should be speaking about this at all. Viktor gave her his most charming smile, and that seemed to set her at ease. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, looking out at the ice. "The thing is…" she said. "Sonia's foster family…well, they were going to adopt her. But they fell on some hard times recently, and—they can't afford it anymore. She's going back at the end of the month."

Back. Back into the system, he supposed, to be stifled and ignored. To fall through the cracks, never to be seen again.

Viktor looked up at the girl as she skated past and smiled. He had an idea.

"Do you know who I am, miss?" he asked, almost to himself.

"No," the caseworker said, frowning at him in confusion. "Should I?"

Viktor waved her off and went to find himself a pair of skates.

A moment later, he was gliding across the ice, heading towards the girl. She continued to skate, heedless of his presence, and didn't notice him until he was almost beside her. When she did, her eyes widened and she slipped, sliding across the ice. He was there in an instant, a hand outstretched as he crouched down with concern, but she didn't whimper or cry, instead pushing herself back up so that she was sitting.

She took his hand, but other than a quick glance in his direction, she didn't look him in the eye. Her face was slightly flushed, although it was hard to see under the natural tan of her skin.

He had a feeling that she recognized him.

"That was a nasty fall," he said, drawing her up to her feet. "Are you alright?"

She nodded her head yes but didn't speak, eyes still on the ice. Now that she was closer, she was much younger than Viktor realized, maybe six or seven. Too young to be so closed off.

"Do you know who I am?" he asked, still holding her hand.

She looked at him shyly from beneath a curtain of long brown hair, then looked away again. He'd almost given her up for mute when she answered, her voice so soft he had to strain to hear it.

"You're Viktor Nikiforov," she said. "You won the Grand Prix Final five times."

"I did," Viktor said, smiling as he crouched down to her level. "I am. I hear you like to skate, Sonechka."

"You want us to what?!"

The shout tore through the once quiet air of the skating rink, breaking Yuri Plisetsky's concentration. He over-rotated and came down hard, mentally cursing Yuuri and Viktor as he swung around to face the katsudon. Said pork cutlet bowl had his back to Yuri, and was holding his phone to his ear with an increasingly panicked expression. Yuri snorted. No points for guessing who he was talking to.

"Oi, piggy!" Yuri shouted. "Are you helping me practice or not?!"

Yuuri ignored him, clutching the phone tighter to himself as he turned away. "Viktor!" Yuri heard him say. "You were supposed to be looking for a student."

Yuri scowled, angry at being ignored. He opened his mouth to say something cutting, but was cut off by the other man's exclamation.

"Viktor, this is serious! This isn't something you do on impulse!"

Yuri frowned, curious in spite of himself. He skated closer to the edge of the rink, leaning his arms against the railing.

"What did Viktor do now?"

The question went unnoticed. Yuuri was babbling the way he always did when he was nervous, clutching the phone close to his mouth with both hands. "I mean, do we even have any room? You're using that bedroom for storage—and she'll need food, and toys, and somewhere to sleep, and—."

Yuri tilted his head to the side, confused. An image came into his head of Viktor coming home with some stray puppy he had picked off the streets of San Francisco or something. Which, alright, fair enough—between Makkachin and Yuri's cat, their house was getting a little crowded with pets. But then Yuuri started going on about things like education, clothes, the school system and a social life, and now Yuri was really confused.

"—No, I'm not saying I don't want to, but you need to think about these things. When is the home visit—a week? Viktor, that room is a mess!"

Yuri opened his mouth, about to demand that he be enlightened once and for all, when Yuuri cleared all the confusion once and for all, shouting into the phone.

"I'm just saying that you should maybe ask me before you decide to adopt a child!"