No one knew where they came from or why they appeared, they simply did without forewarning. One day, someone would go to sleep, their skin bare and their conscious burden free; the next, they would wake to black ink marked along their once blank skin and their destinies sealed in the simple strokes of letters and symbols. An entire future decided in a single night.

For nearly all people who had yet to receive their marks, the wait was filled with a strange mixture of anticipation and dread. Katsuki Yuuri was different. Instead, little Yuuri would sit in the windowsill of his bedroom and bathe in the light of the moon, staying up for as long as his sleepy body would allow as wave after wave of anxiety and nausea rolled through him. He didn't want to sleep. He didn't want to sleep because of the dark, nasty thoughts sneering at him from inside his own head.

What if tonight was the night?

What if his soulmate didn't love him?

What if his destiny was too great to bear or too small to matter?

What if he didn't even have a destiny?

'What if' was the biggest question of Yuuri's life and he had yet to reach the age of ten.

Every night, as the moon watched over him, Yuuri's eyes would unwillingly slip closed, exhaustion slowly engulfing him in a steady warmth before whisking him away.

Not tonight , Yuuri would pray, please, not tonight .

And it had worked, every night for ten years.

Until it didn't.

Yuuri had fallen asleep in the windowsill, cocooned in the warmth of one of his mother's quilts. Silver light caressed his skin and wrapped around him like another blanket, intent on cradling the young boy in its grasp as tendrils of pure starlight swept across his forehead, delicately weaving an intricate pattern onto his skin as he slept soundly.

The sleeping boy simply snuggled deeper into the quilt, undisturbed by the dancing lights on his forehead.

By the time the sun rose, the mystical lights had retreated with the dying moon, leaving shining silver lines in their wake.

Yuuri woke with the new dawning light of the sun, his brown eyes glowing molten gold as the sunlight filtered through the windowpane. A yawn rippled through him as Yuuri curled deeper into the quilt in an attempt to shut out the morning light and fight off wakefulness for as long as possible. For several hours, Yuuri drifted between the blissfulness of sleep and the chaos of consciousness, cocooned in the quilt and slowly soaking in the sun's warmth. The warmth of the new sun's rays lulled the boy back to sleep; only for him to be awoken again by golden rays of sunlight, which, unbeknownst to him, caused the silver on his forehead to ripple.

For a final time, Yuuri's eyes opened. He grumbled low underneath his breath as his tiny fists came up to rub at his eyes, trying to wipe away the sleep. Then, he sat there, wrapped tightly in the quilt and staring up at the ceiling, trying to will the bright light away from the sky. Yuuri's body shook with the power of another yawn as he unwillingly began to unwind from the quilt, the warmth giving way to the chill morning air of his bedroom and sending goosebumps up his arms.

The floor was harsh and cold on his feet and Yuuri wrapped the quilt around his shoulders in attempt to capture whatever warmth remained, dragging the rest behind him like a cape. Yuuri inched towards his bedroom door, moving in the slow, lazy motions of early wakefulness and trying to fight off the sleep still hanging heavy in his veins.

But then, a heavenly smell wafted through his room, filling it with the tantalizing scent of his mother's homemade breakfast. Yuuri's mouth began to water as soon as the smell settled into the room, his stomach rumbling lowly in agreement. In a mindless daze, Yuuri followed the smell, drawn to the prospect of a warm morning meal and too tired to care about how his oversized pajamas were rumpled and unevenly hanging off his lithe frame; or how his sleep glazed eyes scanned his settings, seeing but not interpreting as he walked down the hallway; or how his unkempt black hair stuck up oddly on the crown of his head, bangs swept hazardously to the side to allow rays of light to catch the peeking silver ink among the dark strands.

Yuuri followed the smell all the way to the kitchen, where his family had fully gathered to eat their mother's meal. Immediately, Yuuri sat in his seat, next to his sister, Mari, and across from his father, bunching up the quilt around him to keep it off the floor behind his seat.

"There you are, sunshine," came the morning greeting from his sister, a lazy smile painting her face as Hiroko entered, delicately balancing four dishes in her arms with a practiced ease.

At the sight of food, Yuuri perked up, completely ignoring his sister in favor of the bowl his mother set in front of him.

"Breakfast is served," Hiroko said, her soft voice echoing tenderly in Yuuri's ears as one of his mother's face lit up in a smile.

A round of 'thank you's swept through the room, which succeeded in making Hiroko's kind smile grow wider as she gave an acknowledging nod. The Katsuki family dug eagerly in to their breakfast. The muffled sound of silverware filled the room, scraping against the glass of the dishware, as the delicious homemade meal was eaten in favor of morning conversation.

Yuuri ate slowly, savoring how the food simply melted in his mouth and created a kaleidoscope of flavors that danced happily on his tongue. Every mouthful brought a brilliant burst of flavor to satisfy his morning hunger. As Yuuri ate, his dark hair twisted and brushed against his forehead, allowing the silvery bands of the mystical mark to peak out from underneath the curtain of his bangs.

The silver caught in the light, shimmering its ethereal glow with pride, begging to be noticed.

And noticed it was.

"Yuuri?"

"Hmmm?" Yuuri hummed in question, looking up from his meal. Mari's brown eyes were locked on his messy hair, swirling deeply with worry and confusion.

Ice ran down Yuuri's spine, a haunting sensation always alluding to the panic soon to come. If his sister had something to worry about, Yuuri's own anxiety wouldn't be too far behind, always festering in the shadows and waiting to show its decrepit face.

"What's on your forehead?"

Yuuri's heart skipped in his chest in a moment of pure terror. Everything around him stood absolutely still. No one dared to breathe or speak.

Then, Yuuri's own hand snapped to his forehead without his consent, tracing over the elegantly drawn lines blended perfectly with his smooth skin. He couldn't feel any difference between his own skin and the inked lines.

Panic boiled in the pit of his stomach, dropping it with a sickening swoop before making it churn and bubble; anxiety wrapped itself around his lungs, squeezing air from him like it was worthless to his life.

"What?" Yuuri squeaked out, unable to give any more than that.

Yuuri's mother immediately dropped her utensils, reaching over to move her son's bangs out of the way to fully reveal the shining silver mark woven intricately in to the shape of a royal circlet.

His mother's eyes widen in disbelief.

His father readjusted his glasses, as if seeing something he thought wasn't quite real.

His sister gaped, nearly dropping her food back into her bowl.

Yuuri could feel their stares burn into him like he was some sort of spectacle on display.

He pushed down the acidity rising in his throat, knowing that, whatever his family stared at, was indicative of his future, his life, and, possibly, his heart.

"What - what is it?" Yuuri whimpered nervously, hyper aware of every breath in the room, every slight shift of fabric, even every ray of sunlight twinkling into the room.

Silence.

Gears in Yuuri's head began to turn, taking off at the speed of light and not showing any signs of stopping.

Was it bad?

It was probably bad.

Why did it have to be bad?

"Yuuri," his mother said, her voice soothing over the beginnings of a quickly rising anxiety attack. "Yuuri, sweetheart, take a deep breath."

Under his mother's instruction, Yuuri inhaled, hearing his mother do the same in turn.

"It's going to be alright -"

"Why the hell is it silver?"

"Mari," their father scolded quickly.

"What?"

"Does he have a soulmate mark?"

Warm fingers pressed into Yuuri's wrists, turning them over to inspect where the second mark should've appeared. Instead, Yuuri's wrists remained blank, no name appearing where there should be.

"No…"

"What the f-"

"Mari."

"We'll take him to Okukawa-san," his mother decided, placing a calming hand on Yuuri's cheek in effort to fight off the panic. "Perhaps she will know why."

Yuuri heard the words through water, muffled and distant, but present enough to be heard and understood. Okukawa-san? Minako? The same Minako who taught him how to dance in the late moonlight at the village bonfires? The same Minako who drank herself underneath the table and woke without signs of regret and diligently stood by his side and always seemed to be there when he needed reassurance the most? Yes, yes, Minako was good. Minako could surely use her knowledge to help him with...wait…

Questions swirled wildly in his head, flying chaotically and hitting each other around.

Two questions managed to stand out in a brilliant bold red, warning and dangerous, like a threatened predator waiting to strike him down as soon as he turned his back.

He only had one mark? His mark wasn't black?

Oh no, no, no, no, please this wasn't happening. Why him? What had he done?

"Yuuri," came his mother's voice once again, commanding his attention while calming his worries. Yuuri looked at his mother, desperately seeking comfort in her warm, homey pools of brown. "Everything's going to be alright, we just need to go see Minako, okay?"

Yuuri could only manage a nod, fearing that anything further would cause the tears building in his eyes to spill over.

Together, Yuuri and his parents left the inn to visit Hasetsu's village head and family friend, Okukawa Minako, while an unwilling Mari parted from them to begrudgingly attend school. Yuuri and his parents made their way through the village, first passing through the Farmer's Market, which filled the world with the bright colors of the fruits and the claustrophobia of the crowd trying to push and shove their ways to their favorite stalls; then, by the village Bakery, where the smell of fresh bread hung thickly in the air and caused watering mouths to line up at its door; and lastly, the tavern, where, even at the early hour, Yuuri could hear the clink of glasses and the drunken laughter of men.

Minako's cottage was next to the tavern. The little, two room cottage was more than enough for the tavern owner, who doubled as the village head; Yuuri had spent many hours in the cottage learning how to dance under Minako's watchful gaze. As the family approached, the elder woman opened the door, a warm smile on her face as her unrestrained brown hair swung loosely behind her.

"I've been waiting for your arrival," Minako said in greeting, immediately ushering the Katsuki's into her home without a single question. Yuuri had long ago begun to suspect Minako was magic, being able to see and know things no one else could possibly predict. This only furthered his case.

The Katsuki's filed into the tavern owner's home, Yuuri immediately settling down in his favorite chair as his parents explained in hush whispers what exactly was going on. Minako listened intensely, entranced by the story Yuuri's parents told her, and nodded.

Minako turned to Yuuri after the tale was finished, fiery curiosity lit in her eyes as she approached him cautiously. "May I, Yuuri?"

Yuuri nodded numbly. He could trust Minako. If anyone could fix this, it was her.

Gently, the woman lifted Yuuri's bangs from his head and ran a feather-like touch over his mark. The touch caused Yuuri to squirm, feeling as though something was crawling across the delicate skin of his forehead. A gentle smile curled on Minako's face as the mark shimmered.

"It's a special mark," she finally said, breaking the dead silence that had been hanging in the air. Yuuri clung onto her words, wanting to hear the solution, wanting to fix what the universe had done, "the mark of a future ruler. The silver is a blessing from the Moon herself, a sign that he was chosen."

At Minako's words, Yuuri's heart sank deep into his chest, thudding dully in mock pain. A ruler? Him? It was almost a laughable notion.

"You have nothing to worry about," Minako assured him, patting him on the knee.

Yuuri knew he most definitely had something to worry about.

"And his soulmate?"

Please fix this, sensei , Yuuri thought desperately, feeling another round of tears beginning to fill his eyes.

"Does he not have that mark?" she asked, her brows furrowing in the middle.

His heart swooped again, taking on a feeling of weightlessness before plummeting like a rock.

"I didn't see one on his wrist."

Yuuri saw Minako's smile grow in to something greater as her eyes lit up with the glee of someone far younger than herself. She turned to place a hand over Yuuri's own, taking a calming breath before looking directly at him, her eyes now burning with the weight of her next words, excitement and comfort and wisdom flowing through her all at once.

"That means, Yuuri, that someone was chosen by the Sun to rule by your side and act as not only one, but both. Soulmate and destiny."

The weight of Minako's words settled on him, sending a strange feeling of comfort through his veins at the thought of what she had said. And the more Yuuri began to think, the more it made sense. His future was utterly intertwined with his soulmate's, parallels and opposites in every way. Unequivocally bound to each other.

That night, Yuuri slept soundly, once again curled up, safely in the light of the moon.

And, with the moon watching down upon him, Yuuri dreamed.

He was walking through a grand hall, walls made of white granite and draped in brilliant red tapestries. His footsteps were slow, meticulous and unhurried against the tiled ground. Yuuri was dressed in a brilliant blue suit, made from expensive fabrics and sturdily sewn by a steady hand. Silver cords looped and came to rest on his shoulder, swooping over his chest, while silver shoulder marks, crafted of the same elegant cords, framed his shoulders in an intricate pattern. Yuuri wondered if the silver cords were threaded with genuine silver. He probably didn't want to know, actually.

Yuuri continued his slow stride, his fingers coming up to play with the cords across his chest, when a warm breeze filled the hall and caressed Yuuri's skin, beckoning him somewhere unknown, telling him to hurry or he'd miss whatever it was he was meant to see. He followed the breeze blindly, letting it guide him, his pace picking up with each moment that passed.

The warm breeze guided him to a garden, lined with tall hedges that guarded the blue roses within, protecting them in a cradle of privacy and sunlight. The roses weren't what Yuuri focused on. Instead, his attention was taken by the dancing figure in the small clearing of roses.

Yuuri could feel air leave his lungs as he watched the man dance in the sunlight with the fluid grace of a flowing river. Long, silver hair flowed behind him with every spin and dip and twirl as the gold cords of his suit glinted in the light while they were suspended in the air from his movements, his long legs lifting him with ease while his arms danced around like beams of sunlight.

When he stopped, Yuuri could feel his heart ache, yearning for something it didn't even know it was missing until he'd walked into the garden.

The dancer turned to him, beautiful eyes of crystal skies staring at him like he held the world.

Yuuri could already tell that the dancer was perfect, that nothing else in the world mattered as long as he had him close by his side.

Viktor , the breeze whispered, his name is Viktor.

Viktor.

Yuuri couldn't think of anything better.

Viktor smiled, his lips shaping in to a heart as he waved towards Yuuri with bursting enthusiasm, a shining golden crown mark reflecting in the light of the sun.

"Yuuri!"