I don't own Yuri! on Ice.

Chapter 1: #MeetCute

(In which two people receive the surprise of their lives. One is thrilled. The other is less than thrilled about that.)

Katsuki Yuuri had a problem.

Well, actually Yuuri had lots of problems. You want the tl;dr of Yuuri's life? That was it, basically. Yuuri always had problems.

Anyway, a short list of the most current ones:

Sorrow over the beloved family dog Vicchan's death.

A flubbed professional skating performance at the men's final at Sochi.

The cold reception of Yuuri's childhood idol and fellow competitor, Viktor Nikiforov, immediately after at the airport.

An ensuing career decision crisis.

And last but not least, a bone-deep exhaustion from both jetlag and the long night before last (an ill-advised attempt to confront the previously listed).

Those few were at the top. Even after crashing for the entire previous day to try to sleep it all off, Yuuri was quite tired of all of them. Well, when the going got tough, the tough went bathing (Aching muscles from the strain of that past night's exertions in the local ice rink might have influenced the decision too).

Yuuri grabbed toiletries from the bedroom, marched purposefully towards the showers and performed the necessary preparations for a good long soak in the onsen. On the way there, only quick reflexes honed by years of dedicated practice (being a nationally ranked professional in male figure skating had its benefits) saved our unfortunate hero from a collision with a pile of towels barrelling past.

"Oh, Yuuri, you're awake! Did you have fun at the Ice Castle the other night?" Mari called out over the laundry pile, balancing it with one arm while using the other to swipe her streaked hair out of her vision.

"Yes, thanks, Mari-neechan," Yuuri answered, fiddling with the tucked-in corner of the modesty towel, and trying hard to keep impatience from bleeding through the words. "Just tired. It was a long night. I'm heading to the private baths, I think I'd like a bit of time alone to get sorted."

"Sure, sure! Oh, but there was an interesting customer who just arrived while you were asleep. He had funny colored hair and everything, seems fun. He went to the men's baths, even though it's so early. Maybe you'll run into him after you finish."

Yuuri doubted it, fully intending to stay in the baths as long as safety allowed, sweating out troubles (stewing in misery, a more honest but generally ignored part opined). "Well, this is Japan. He'd hardly be the only one with unusual hair," Yuuri rejoined, edging away from the garrulous sister, and towards the sweet solitude of the private baths.

"Well, that's true I guess, but he doesn't seem Japanese. Maybe European? I had to point out the men's baths for him and explain in English." Mari continued enthusiastically. But Yuuri had long gone by then, disappeared behind the sign marked for the private baths.

Later, Yuuri would lament the hurry that led to the cutting off of that conversation. If given the opportunity to go back in time to change past events, well, let's just say, it wouldn't be the highest ranked, but would land solidly in the top ten at least. And you have to remember, for Yuuri, that's saying a lot.

Regardless, Yuuri stepped behind the partition armed with a basket of toiletries and enrobed in a simple towel, all senses keening towards a nice, quiet, relaxing soak. With one foot in the water, Yuuri sighed contentedly. Preparing to unwrap the towel and sink beneath the healing waters, Yuuri involuntarily voiced the single thought remaining (in English, as was Yuuri's wont in private conversations during trips back home in Japan). "This is heaven."

"Yes, it is, isn't it?" the very naked silver-haired world-champion Russian figure skater Viktor Nikiforov answered politely.

Simultaneously, three people in the humble Yutopia inn and onsen received a severe shock. Each expressed their complex emotions with a simple word.

Yuuri, already startled past the limits of sanity by the unexpected presence, immediately recognized the bath intruder (staring at his face on the posters plastered all over one's bedroom for unnumbered hours will do that for a person). Reflexively hugging the towel tighter, Yuuri backed up, gaping obtusely at the childhood idol present in the (ridiculously well-toned) flesh.

However, the modest action coupled with a sudden playful breeze that sprang from nowhere (from hell, Yuuri claimed later) produced the opposite effect as desired. Yuuri's towel slipped from a nerveless grasp and fluttered gently to the paving, revealing a silhouette which hardly embodied a paragon of the male figure skating form. For one thing, it was what you might call pleasingly plump (Yuuri was grateful to those who called it so, but would personally choose a different phrase for it). For another, it was narrow and curvy in all the wrong (or right, depending who you were asking) places.

Yuuri had only one word to sum up the situation. "Yabai," she croaked.

Her observer disagreed. "Vkusno!" Viktor crowed.

Elsewhere, Mari paused in her laundering, something about her earlier encounter niggling at the back of her head. Something about the baths? She remembered setting them up for the evening, reaching to switch the signs for the switched private and public baths, but being interrupted by that stranger, and then... She stopped in realization. "Oh dang."

Oh well, she shrugged it off. It was super early, it's not like anything could have happened yet anyway.

A/N: And so it begins. This fanfiction does not endorse falsifying your gender, especially if you compete in a gender-specific international sport. It also does not purport to be realistic. At all. Don't try this at home, kids.