((Redonix Note: Ha! Y'all gave up on me ever updating again, didn't ya? Lol, just kidding. I'm back! Message continued at the bottom.))

The poster announcing the talent show, now only half a week away, practically glared at Mai as she avoided looking at it from her seat at the piano. The constant reminder of the torture she was to put herself through was like weights shackled to her every limb, bearing her down. It wasn't just the act of performing that made her feel ill, though. It was the sudden and new challenge that was added on that made her want to keel over.

Playing for Viktor was such a disaster last time. Knowing that he'll be there might only make things worse, she fretted. But I want to invite him and Yuri so they can see me perform!

And then there was the whole matter of just how she would invite them.

Asking is such an easy concept in theory. Why can't it be easy to act upon as well?

Just thinking about being direct, as she ought to be, made her cringe. Perhaps extending him an invitation through Yuri would be acceptable, but he might see it as rude. It wasn't like Viktor was an extra guest to invite on a whim simply because he was there. And forget drawing him aside to ask him. Each scenario that started out like that only seemed to have negative outcomes in her mind.

A frustrated sigh blew from parted lips and she scowled at the logo carefully crafted onto the piano.

Idly, Mai's fingers wandered over the ivory keys, feeling along the almost worn exterior as one would when pouring over passages of text or a map. The action was comforting, and before long she had absently begun to play a piece of her song that had been stuck in her head since she had played for Viktor.

It was the same thing all over again. The storm took control of a directionless butterfly, capturing it in an eternal despairing winter.

She tapped out the tune, growing faster and faster―as if that would change anything. As if that would make it better. No matter how many times she played the piece, though, she could never resolve her butterfly's problem. Instead of finding a way to shift the mood and ease into the second movement, the rising action in which the butterfly was meant to find itself the strength to persevere, Mai was only capable of destroying it until nothing remained.

(Time is slowing while twisting and turning…)

The refrain looped on itself, beginning again.

(And this hope is struggling to find a way…)

Mai thought about the meaning of a song. In most cases she knew it to be something meant as an expression; a message.

(The lines are blurring as I look away…)

(Is it still possible to reach what's far before me?)

The message could be about anything, for anything. It could be from one person to another about hate, love, friendship―or it could be something dedicated to many people at once as a reminder that they weren't alone. In most cases, though, it was often an expression of the song writer's own feelings for them and them alone. The butterfly was Mai, and the trials were her own, that much she thought she understood.

So what were her feelings?

(Am I wishing for something?)

(I can't remember…)

What did she want?

(There's a strange emptiness when forgetting…)

(Is there a way to make it end?)

Mai's fingers faltered, nearly slipping off the keys as she realized it: She didn't really know anymore. The dream, her ultimate goal, she had been so close to realizing it. Viktor had asked her to play for him, and she'd choked. Even thinking about it now allowed that familiar dread to well up within her chest like a broken fountain of water, constantly spouting and streaming her fears over her heart to suffocate it.

Maybe her aunt had been right. Maybe this one thing―out of all the things she'd allowed herself strive for with hope―this one desire, was just too far to get. It was just like herself too, always being brainless and hoping for the impossible. Hoping that an underdog like herself would be able rise up like in the stories and claim the victory that was rightfully hers. But she was nothing more than a coward that did as she was told. Always practicing, always performing, but never good enough to be the best.

(I think I'm distorting…)

Everything she had aspired to be was nothing that would become of her, for everything she did was never good enough in the eyes of her aunt. And of all the people whose expectations she was dying to reach, was Aiya's.

(I must be distorted…)

(Will it come to an end?)

It was like invisible threads were wrapping around her throat, forcing her to remain trapped with the rising water until she drowned.

(Can you hear the silent cry)

(The cry that brings a tear to my eye?)

(Can you hear the heart speak?)

(I'm just trying to get by…)

Mai slowed to a halt and blankly stared at her unmoving fingers on the piano. What exactly was the point of her song again? Did she really want Viktor, or even the whole world, to listen to something so pathetic? Did she really want everyone to know what was in her little heart? To know that, in the end, she was just another failure…

She wasn't a natural, or even close to gifted. Relentlessly working was probably all she'd ever be known for. Day in. Day out. Practicing for a day that would never come, to reach a bar that was too high―the girl known as Suzu Mai would always be known as the one that couldn't jump high enough. Just like…

Just like…

She tried to think of someone that she knew and admired that had failed, but not one person came to mind. Her parents, though death claimed them too quickly, had been on their way to fame. They had started their own photography studio and were a favorite among tourists, and even had their works published in a few different magazines. They'd been married and had her. When asked they would have said they'd achieved everything they've ever wanted and more.

Aunt Aiya had been a fierce competitor in her youth. At home, on a shelf in the living room, there were several trophies and ribbons to show for her skill. Before the accident that had placed Mai in her care, she had been a private music teacher at the university. Even if her methods were grueling, Aiya had been praised as the best.

Then there was Yuri.

He had dedicated his life to the ice since a young age. Though he would say otherwise, Mai would swear up and down that he had the greatest success of all. Yuri had worked, and worked, and worked to make his skill known. Hours upon hours, when her aunt wasn't expecting her to be practicing, had been spent watching him skate until he perfected a certain jump, or the speed of a spin. Years were spent learning in far off places and competing in the biggest ice skating competition known to man: The Grand Prix. And even when he had found himself at the bottom of the ladder he had found it in himself to stand up again and keep skating.

Turning in her seat, with one hand still resting at the edge of the piano, Mai stared at the poster once again. Every time she looked at it the same subtext always underlined the announcement: Fear this. Fear me. For invisible words they had always been so big and bold, and she had somehow always been convinced to listen to them. And as challenge after challenge seemed to pile on top of her the words would laugh, mocking her.

But… What if she were to challenge those words back? Mai may have been a far cry off from being brave, but if Yuri could do it then couldn't she as well? His success was defined by his ability to stand back up after falling down, and at first it had seem like he'd fallen a long way before he'd hit rock bottom. If Mai were to stand up as well would she be able to finally understand the meaning of success? Could she know what it was like to stand on even ground with her best friend?

Something Yuri had said rose to the surface of her thoughts, fiercely clinging to a spark of hope that had ignited within her.

"Being depressed just gets old after awhile. I realized that even if I think I don't belong on the ice, it's the only place where I really, truly belong."

Even if she thought her music would never be good enough, it was the only thing that she really, truly enjoyed creating.

Mai stood up. The poster leered at her from its lofty position on the bulletin board, and she swallowed hard. It was just a couple steps. That's all she needed to take. A couple steps until she was in front of the board and then she could take the poster down, and then instead of asking Viktor with words, she could give that to him instead. Easy.

Hesitantly, she slid a foot around the bench and took a step forward. Then another, and another, until she was in front of the poster. She read over it, absorbing its contents; the event's name, the time and date, the cheesy showtime background. Slowly she raised her hand up and touched the edge of the poster.

And, without batting an eye, Mai wrapped her fingers around the edge and pulled it down.

{ ++ }

To say that he was mad was an understatement.

To be exact, Yuri Plisetsky was pissed.

His flight from Russia to Japan had been a long, exhausting one, and he'd wandered around Hasetsu until it was almost dusk looking for the runaway Russian. Then he'd come to find an annoyingly large group of reporters crowding the entrance to a shabby, public ice rink waiting to get the next big scoop on what was happening with Viktor Nikiforov and Yuri Katsuki. Not only had Viktor sluffed out on his promise to create a special program for his senior debut, but he had done it to train this sorry excuse for a skater. Surely that was reason enough for anyone to be angry.

Yuri glowered at Katsuki from beneath his bangs, digging the heel of his foot into the man's forehead without remorse.

"This is all your fault! Apologize!"

Katsuki stared at him from beneath his shoe in bewilderment, waving his hands in a placating manner. He was practically squealing as he apologized, but it wasn't enough. Yuri dug his heel in even harder and ground his teeth together.

"Pig," he spat.

"I-I'm sor―Ow!" Katsuki whimpered as he twisted his heel.

Yuri opened his mouth to say something else―he wasn't sure what really, probably another insult―when something crashed into his back and knocked him off balance. He gasped and stumbled over Katsuki, narrowly avoiding stepping, or worse, falling, on top of the man. Latching onto the ledge of the counter, Yuri managed to stop his downfall. Beneath him, Katsuki's feet disappeared as the man scuttled away.

Slowly, Yuri looked over his shoulder.

A girl no larger than himself was bent over Katsuki, helping him to his feet. She pushed a lock of wavy black hair behind a small ear before looking up to meet his gaze with honey-brown eyes. She flinched, biting her lip and averting her gaze. Beside her Katsuki rubbed his forehead.

"Thanks, Mai," he murmured.

Siblings? he wondered. They looked similar enough, he supposed. Both of them were on the heavier side―although Katsuki had apparently lost weight―and had round eyes with button like noses. And they acted fairly familiar with each other, like family often did. It was a mildly intriguing mystery, but Yuri shoved his curiosity aside and focused on the matter at hand.

In the end though she'd gotten in his way.

"Hah? What's this? Need a girl to come and save you, Katsuki?" Yuri carelessly tossed the jibe at the pig, effortlessly turning himself around to lean against the counter, all the while pretending he hadn't just been owned by said girl.

Katsuki started to say something when the girl spoke up. "Y-you shouldn't be bullying people j-just because you're angry," she stuttered. "A-and if you have a p-problem then you s-should talk to Viktor, s-s-since you're here to see him, right?"

He opened his mouth and then closed it right back up again. She was right in every aspect and there wasn't a damn thing he could say to combat it. Yes, he had been bullying Katsuki because he was angry (and maybe a little because the pig was just so weak), and he had come here to talk to (read: convince, forcefully if necessary, Viktor to return to Russia) Viktor. But it's not like that was any of her business anyways.

Yuri pushed himself off the counter and took a big step forward, eyeing the girl. "That's beside the point. Who are you? Why do you get to come in here when everyone else is stuck outside? Are you some other skater Viktor decided to coach? Did he promise to choreograph something for you too?"

With each question the girl shrunk in on herself. She fidgeted with the hem of her jacket, pulling it up until it partially hid her ears. Her arms crossed over her chest and Yuri could have sworn he heard paper crinkling.

"N-no―I mean, um, I'm not a s-skater." He clenched his jaw to keep himself from verbally lashing her as he struggled miserably to remain patient with her. She stuttered and stumbled over her words so much that it was a miracle she remained understandable, let alone unthrottled by someone else for taking forever to get to the point. What was her problem anyways? Those were simple questions, he'd thought.

After another hopeless minute spent listening to her trip over words she finally managed to spit the rest of it out. "M-my name is Suzu Mai a-and I'm a musician, a-and a friend of Yuri's."

Yuri blinked, and a grin pricked at the corner of his mouth. Did she seriously not know she was in the presence of two Yuri's?

"I don't recall having a turtle for a friend," he said, jutting his chin towards her as he pointed out her little habit. Thin eyebrows bunched together as she stared, not even a single dot connecting in what was beginning to look a lot like a simple mind.

"Mai, this is Yuri Plisetsky." Katsuki had to lean down as he whispered in the girl's ear and Yuri smirked. He leaned back and waited for the usual reaction that followed when people heard his name; automatic praise and awe, the desire to shake his hand (which he would never accept), and requests for pictures and autographs. At the very least he wanted to enjoy her surprise when she realized her own mistake.

"Wha― Y-you're a Yuri too?! I-I mean, um, my apologies." Suzu Mai's face flushed bright red and she bowed repeatedly―something he never understood how the Japanese considered "polite". Didn't that hurt their backs at all, greeting people with a bow, thanking with a bow, apologizing with a bow? It just didn't make any sense to him. He scowled before turning to look at nothing in particular on the wall.

"Whatever," he grumbled. "Where's Viktor?"

Both Katsuki and Mai simultaneously pointed towards another set of doors that must have led to the ice rink itself. They looked at each other, Mai's face turning even redder as she quickly hid her hands behind her back, only to change her mind and protectively clutch them together on her chest. Katsuki grinned and chuckled, lightly patting her on the head before turning to walk confidently away. "He's in here."

He watched as Mai scampered to catch up with the man, noting how the moment she neared his back she had reached out for his arm and clung to it like a scared little toddler. The girl glanced back at him to see if he was following. When she caught him staring instead she quickly turned and ducked her head.

What a chicken, he thought, stomping after the disappearing duo. They make a perfect match though. A piggy and a chicken, ha, what a joke.

Yuri pushed through the glass doors and froze.

Though the room was absolutely silent, save for the sound of skates gliding across the ice, he could've sworn he heard music playing. Viktor spun, swiftly raising his arms in the air one after the other. His hips twisted and turned with each swaying movement he made. Silver hair fell over his face as many times as the air blew it back―he looked like a god with the solemn way he stared at the empty space.

"Those moves," he said quietly. Katsuki and Mai whipped around as he stalked forward to lean against the divider. "They're for the short program Viktor was practicing for next season."

Everyone turned to continue watching the Russian prodigy. "He was already putting a routine together for the next season, but he couldn't decide which song to go with. Shocking the audience has always been his number one priority, and it's placed the world in his hands. But no matter what he does no one's surprised anymore. He knows that just as well as he knows that without any inspiration, he's as good as done for."

His shoulders tightened as he leaned back a little, frowning as he lost himself to his own thoughts.

"If he's going to take next season off then I wonder if he'll let me use his program. I know I can surprise people more. But I'm going to need his help for my senior debut and to win the Grand Prix."

He barely heard Katsuki's mumbling as he leaned back and took a deep breath. He braced himself against the divider, nearly tossing himself over it as he yelled, "Oi! You seem to be doing great, Viktor!"

The silver haired man turned around, hardly seeming all that surprised―as if he'd been expecting Yuri to show up. Yuri clenched his teeth, his grip tightening on the divider.

"Oh, Yuri, I didn't think Yakov would have let you come. Did you need something?" Viktor chuckled to himself before catching sight of the other two. Delightedly, he raised up his hand and waved vigorously. "Mai~! Perfect timing. There was something I wanted to talk to you about."

Yuri curled his lip and turned his glare onto the extra that had stolen Viktor's attention just as he'd been about to answer. Mai swallowed hard, her face growing ever closer in resemblance to a lobster. She glanced away from Viktor, unable to hold his gaze or say anything, but as she turned she made eye contact with him, letting loose an audible squeak. Yuri clicked his tongue before redirecting his attention to the man that seemed to be causing so many problems lately.

"Oi, stop getting distracted!" he hissed. "You forgot about the promise you made to me, didn't you?"

Viktor's smile dropped a little and he tilted his head as he thought about it.

"About how you would choreograph a program for my senior debut," he prompted slowly, barely opening his mouth to get his words out.

The man's face lit up suddenly, and a tiny gasp escaped him as if to say 'Aha!' Viktor skated out of the rink, apologizing plenty without really sounding like he was sorry. Yuri gnawed on the inside of his cheek as he struggled to control his temper. Oh he was aware that Viktor was the forgetful type―painfully at that―but there wasn't really an excuse the man could come up with that would pardon him in Yuri's book. After all, something as important as a senior debut should have been easy to remember.

"You made a promise," he growled. "You're going to choreograph my new program! Let's go back to Russia!"

He threw his hand out, purposefully posing it so that it looked as if he were going to push Katsuki back, only just barely stopping short of touching the other man. A small gasp echoed behind him but he didn't dare to look back at the girl who'd made the sound. This was a message to her as well. No one was going to keep him from getting Viktor to make good on his promise, and that included a little nobody chicken like her.

Viktor observed him with unreadable eyes. For a moment he remained quiet, thoughtful even, and Yuri grew uneasy. What was he thinking? What game was he going to try and play now? If he knew Viktor even a little, then the Russian prodigy always found a way to turn a situation into a game that was in his favor. And if it was a game they were going to play, Yuri had absolutely no idea if he'd be able to win.

"Okay, I've decided!" Yuri internally slapped himself for getting distracted and he focused on Viktor once again. "Tomorrow I will choreograph programs for both of you the same music I was going to use."

Yuri and Katsuki turned to each other at the same moment. "The same music as him?!"

The Russian threw his head back and laughed. "No, no, no. This music has several different arrangements, and I was thinking I'd use a different program for each of you, which actually brings me to what I wanted to talk to Mai about about."

"Huh?" The girl froze on the spot, one hand tightly clutching the sleeve of Katsuki's coat, while the other pressed tightly into her chest. Again, Yuri thought he heard the sound paper crunching. He glowered at her as Viktor reached forward and grabbed her arm, dragging her off to the side a few paces away to discuss whatever idea he'd had. The man smiled easily at the flustered girl and he waved his hands about animatedly as he described something in great detail. She ducked her head repeatedly, often wringing the life out of her chubby little hands. Finally, Mai seemed to agree to whatever Viktor had proposed and the eccentric man clapped his hands.

As Viktor turned to go Mai reached out and hesitantly touched his shoulder. She flinched when he looked back at her, and for a second it looked like she'd forgotten how to breathe, but she quickly demolished that idea with a deep breath. Mai reached inside her coat and pulled out an awkwardly folded piece of paper―he knew he hadn't been imagining things!―and handed it to the prodigy. Viktor carefully unfolded it until he holding a medium sized poster. While he looked over it Mai rapidly explained what it was, hesitating for a split second before asking a question. Viktor's response was immediate, and he pounced on the poor girl who was rapidly disappearing inside of her coat.

"Tch," Yuri clicked his tongue. Of course she had to be a fan of Viktor's, it seemed like almost every female was. And to make matters worse it appeared that she was purposefully trying to do whatever it took to keep the Russian prodigy from returning home, where he belonged.

He was jerked from his thoughts when an elbow nudged him in the side. Looking away from the sickening scene in front of him, Yuri was stunned to be presented with an unusual expression upon Katsuki's face. The Japanese man frowned, his thick brows a step away from being tightly pinched together, a stone-cold chill filling his hickory eyes. It sent a shudder running laps down Yuri's spine, and he almost took a step back.

"You can be mean to me all you'd like," Katsuki's voice was low enough so that he would be the only one to hear, "but don't you dare be mean to Mai because Viktor chooses to humor her. You may not realize it, but it took a lot of courage out of her just to ask something of him. Whatever she's doing, she's doing it because of her dream. And for Mai, her dream means everything."

Yuri swallowed past a lump in his throat, his heart thudding in his chest.

Who is this guy?

The Yuri Katsuki he thought he knew was a far cry from being someone scary, but this guy―this guy was absolutely terrifying. Whatever Yuri might have held against the girl known as Suzu Mai immediately vanished. Of course, he had nothing to worry about concerning her. She was just another fan that Viktor was humoring―he did that all the time. And it wasn't like Viktor actually found an interest in any of them. It was ridiculous to have assumed she was trying to keep Viktor to herself. Completely unreasonable.

Yuri turned away from Katsuki just as Viktor began walking back with Mai, the poster at his side. If he strained his eyes then he could just barely make out the first word: Talent.

"Now that that's settled let's move on," Viktor smiled. "In two weeks I'll reveal the programs. You guys will compete to see who can surprise the audience the most!"

Katsuki stepped forward. "Um, if we're competing against each other," he awkwardly gestured between the two of them, shocking Yuri once again at how quickly he'd changed, "then what is Mai doing?"

Viktor glanced at Mai, his smile widening. "She'll be providing a live accompaniment to the music. Oh, of course, as a thank you we'll all be going to see her performance on Wednesday to cheer her on!"

At the mention of it Viktor held up a poster announcing some talent show. Any color that had been on Mai's face immediately drained and for a moment it looked like she were ready to collapse. Either she hadn't been expecting Viktor to make such a declaration or else she had been doing everything within her power to spend as little time thinking about the performance. Whatever the case, Yuri finally began to somewhat grasp what Katsuki had meant when he'd said it'd taken her a lot of courage to ask anything of Viktor. Having him, a legendary icon, view a performance was like prematurely readying oneself for the noose.

"Alright." Yuri bowed his head and accepted the decision as reality. But he wasn't going to give in without earning something in the process. He stomped and pointed at Viktor, making everyone jump slightly. "I accept the terms and conditions, but you'll do whatever the winner says in return, got it?"

"Great! I love this kind of thing! So exciting!" Viktor pumped his fists, the dumbest look―he really did resemble an over-excited dog sometimes―overtaking his features. Yuri rolled his eyes on the surface, but underneath it all even he was getting worked up at the thought of it. He was going to get his chance to show his worth, and to prove he was better than Katsuki. He was going to win.

"Hold it right there!"

A set of high pitched voices resounded from behind Viktor and Mai. If he'd thought the girl was a bit flighty before, nothing compared to her reaction in that moment. She jumped, choking on a half scream, and whirled around to see a set of triplets. Mai clutched her chest and doubled over, panting and hiccuping. Yuri couldn't help but frown at her, ignoring what the kids had to say as everyone else ignored the wheezing girl.

How exactly was it that this girl got anything done if she was constantly being scared by everything? If anything she was worse than the pig. And yet, even with this conclusion, he couldn't find it in himself to hate her anymore; rather, he began to worry. Life wasn't a cakewalk, and if she wasn't careful then it'd swallow her whole. As someone who was undoubtedly younger than himself Yuri knew he had to step up and act as a responsible adult. He didn't have experience in being a brother figure, having grown up an only child, but if there ever was an opportunity it was now.

It'll be like when I helped grandpa raise chickens, he thought, I just need to be… nicer.

He'd have to start with apologizing for his behavior, though. And if there's one thing he knew, apologies from himself were hard to come by.

On second thought, Yuri grimaced and turned away from the girl, this is going to be harder than raising chickens.

{ ++ }

Mai stroked the edge of her violin, her mind unusually blank and devoid of the alarm she would normally be feeling around this time. Music sheets were scattered around her on the bed, but she wasn't certain which she would go for. Though Viktor had said that he had no idea which arrangements he would use, he'd very clearly pointed out to her the ones he intended for both her Yuri and his Yuri to skate to.

The talent show was in half a week's time, and Viktor Nikiforov, along with both her best friend and the Russian Yuri, would be coming to watch her performance. She had succeeded in putting herself out there―and somehow managed to receive an additional task―so now all she had to do was practice and wait.

The Ice Castle Showdown was in two weeks time, and not only would she be performing in front of another audience so soon, but this would be broadcasted on television. The reality of it was still having a hard time sinking in, but she was certain that once it did then the panic would consume everything. Not only would her face be known, especially if she failed, but it would be the first performance her aunt had not approved of. Never before had she gone against Aiya's decisions, or even behind her back; it was always Aiya's choice in song, Aiya's choice in where to perform, and Aiya's choice in how long she practiced. Not once had Mai known what it was like to have a voice.

She looked around at the music sheets again, indecision plaguing her mind. If Aiya were in here right now Mai knew she would hound her to practice the piece for the talent show: Vivaldi's Sinfonia in C Major. Mai had practiced in Vivaldi's music relentlessly―he was by far her most favorite composer―and she knew the designated arrangement by heart.

The talent show was in half a week's time.

But the Ice Castle Showdown was only in two, and she didn't know the arrangements for this performance at all in comparison to Sinfonia.

Hesitantly, Mai picked up Vivaldi's Sinfonia and stuck it under her bed. If she felt she was lacking then she would practice it another time, perhaps just before the performance. Her next obstacle was in deciding which of the two pieces Viktor had assigned her she would begin practicing first. She picked them both up and flipped through them. They were both the same song in a sense, with only slight changes to each in notes, but one was faster than the other, and according to Viktor they each had their own meaning. One was about mature love while the other was about innocent love.

Mai was no expert when it came to love, but through music she could experience and understand. She set aside one of the music sheets and placed the other on her stand after picking up her violin. The bow, firmly in her grasp, rested just above the strings, and after a deep breath, Mai slowly drew out the first note of adoration.

In Regards to Love: Agape

((Note cont.: Aw man, it's been since last year when I last updated, yikes. Haha, sorry about that. Once YOI ended I found myself going back in sports anime time and getting sucked into Haikyuu! hell XD Which is weird because didn't everyone wind up in the Killing Stalking fandom? Idk, that just wasn't my cup of tea.

Anyways, I've actually got some pretty exciting news. A while back I'd actually taken an excerpt from this story―Mai's rendition of Vivaldi's Winter from ch.2―and submitted it to my school's literary magazine, and just recently I found out that it's been accepted and going to be published! I'm so stoked about that!

Also, forgive me if anyone sounds stiff or OOC in this chapter, it's been awhile. And I know that 2 weeks doesn't really sound all that long for someone to learn/memorize two songs, but just keep in mind that Mai is actually a lot better than she gives herself credit for. Hope to see you next chapter!))