Summary: When Yuuri and his friends accidentally find an unusual bar, Yuuri is forced to showcase a skill of his past.

Oh, and then he accidentally becomes an urban legend.

"C'mon, Yuuri," Phichit whined, tugging Yuuri's arm insistently. "Come to the bar with us!"

Chris, who stood behind Phichit, shot him a suggestive smile and said, "I know you'll enjoy yourself."

"Even if you don't remember any of it in the morning!" Phichit added helpfully, referring to the disastrous banquet that everyone remembered except for him.

Yuuri could feel his cheeks warm at the sudden reminder of his drunk self and resisted the urge to bury his face in his hands. "So why should I go if I won't remember any of it then?"

"Because we'll be there to remember it for you!"

Yuuri turned to Mila who had just spoken and was walking up from behind with a water bottle in hand. She grinned at him as she patted his back once and continued, "Victor's coming too."

"But you haven't even asked him yet!" Yuuri protested.

Mila looked over his shoulder and hollered across the rink, "Victor! Wanna come to the bar with us? Yuuri's coming!"

"H-hey!"

Victor turned to them and skated over with a cheerful smile. "If Yuuri's coming, then I'll go!"

Phichit grabbed Yuuri's arm and began dragging him to the exit. "All right, it's settled then. Let's go!"

Unsurprisingly, when Yuuri met up with the others outside of the changing rooms, the group had grown larger. Mila had an arm around a grumpy looking Yuri, who was adorably clutching the ends of Otabek's left sleeve. And JJ was gesturing wildly while loudly proclaiming something about the "king joining them" and "what an honor" of some sort; Yuuri, along with everyone else, had stopped listening by then.

They walked down the streets of Barcelona, chattering amongst each other with great cheer until Yuri stopped in his tracks, looked around, and asked, "Wait, does anyone here even know where the fuck we're going?"

The rest of them only then noticed how the street they turned into was narrow, nearly vacant and no longer had street lights lining the sidewalks. Yuuri exchanged a concerned look with Victor when they realized they had no idea where they were.

Next to Yuuri, Phichit said, "Yeah! Google Maps says it's this way."

They followed Phichit for a few minutes until they stopped in front of a nondescript store front with no windows that was painted completely in black. A simple sign with obviously handwritten letters hung above the door: Devil's Den.

Phichit chirped out cheerfully as he stepped towards the door, "We're here!"

Yuuri followed behind Victor with a bit of trepidation. The alarmed feeling only grew when Yuuri saw a man sitting with two others near the end of the bar gesture subtly towards Yuuri and his friends. The other two turned around to face them with small, secretive smiles.

He turned to Victor and began to say, "I don't think we should-" only to cut himself short when he realized they had all gone off ahead of him to the front of the bar.

Phichit waved at him with a grin and called him over. "Yuuri, what are you still doing over there? C'mon!"

Yuuri sighed in resignation and went over to them, gingerly accepting a drink and followed them to a table.

Yuri slammed his juice on the table, his face scrunched in an endearing pout (although Yuuri would never say that aloud to his face). The teen turned to Otabek and grumbled, "They drag me here and don't even let me drink."

Victor reached over the table and pinched Yuri's cheek because he knew Yuri hated it. "Yurio," his coach singsonged, "in a few years you can!"

Phichit looked around the place and sighed, shaking his head a little.

"What's wrong, Phichit?" Yuuri asked him in concern.

His friend sighed again, deeper and more mournful this time in evident exaggeration. "I'm just disappointed this bar doesn't have a pole or two for you and Chris to dance to!" By the end of his sentence, Phichit's voice had trailed up into a high pitched giggle that made Yuuri want to simultaneously clock him over the head for and sink under the ground so no one could see him again.

Chris nodded and winked at him. "There's always a next time, Yuuri!"

Yuuri suddenly felt a body leaning on his shoulder and arms wrapped tightly around his torso. Victor's breath tickled his neck as he whined, "No, Yuuri's mine! No one gets to see you like that other than me!"

He couldn't prevent the rush of blood that rose to his face from showing. "V-victor!"

Yuri snorted. "You guys are fucking disgusting."

Eventually, after much insistence from Mila and Phichit, Yuuri had enough drinks to loosen up, but (luckily) not enough to awaken his raging drunk self. Their conversation was light and laidback, and Yuuri found he was enjoying himself.

A few hours later, Yuuri was a little bit more than tipsy and found himself practically sitting in Victor's lap. Neither of them minded at all. Chris, Mila, Phichit and JJ had disappeared at some point, but last he saw, they were hitting it off with a couple other people their age across the room. Yuri and Otabek remained at the table talking quietly to each other, the only ones who were still sober.

"Victor," Yuuri prompted as he patted the man's cheek. "I think we should go now." It was getting late, and it was good for no one if they were all too drunk to get back to the hotel.

Victor hummed and agreed quietly.

They stood up together and began walking over to the bartender to pick up the tab.

"I'll pay you back tomorrow," Yuuri promised to Victor as the bartender printed out their concerningly long receipt.

The bartender handed them the bill and said with a grin, "Actually there's a special deal we have at our bar."

Yuuri felt like his heart died a bit when he looked at the bill's total. Victor glanced up at the large bartender. "And what's that?"

Yuuri leaned forward in interest. The bartender shot him a cursory look before turning back to Victor. "Every match won makes five drinks on the house."

Slightly annoyed at the man's obvious dismissal, Yuuri was nonetheless even more intrigued. "What kind of match?"

Somehow the man's smile grew even wider as he said simply, "A fight."

"I'll do it."

Victor and the bartender looked at him in surprise.

"Yuuri, I can pay for it. Don't worry about-"

"No," Yuuri said with a smile as he internally grimaced at the number on the bill. "I'll do it."

"Wait, Victor!" A voice rang out from behind them above the chatter of the other occupants. "Are you guys leaving now?"

Yuuri and Victor turned to see Chris and Phichit walking across the bar towards them. They came over with expressions of excitement that immediately put Yuuri on guard. "My new friends over there," Chris pointed vaguely at the other end of the room and continued, "are regulars here and they just told me that there's an underground fighting arena in the back!"

Phichit pulled out his phone as if it were a weapon for battle. "Let's go see it!"

Yuuri yelped when he felt someone slap his back hard. It was the bartender, who was grinning again as he said, "Great! Come cheer your friend on. There's an entrance fee of ten euros each except for the contender."

Yuuri's friend looked around the room as he chirped out cheerfully, "OK! Let me go get the others. They wouldn't want to miss this either-wait!" He shouted in alarm, eyes wide as he slowly turned back to face the bartender. "What did you say?"

"Well, this young man here," Yuuri received a slap on the back once more, "was insistent on participating, so since you guys were already going-"

"Yuuri?!"

"What?!"

Victor sent him a pleading look. "You don't have to do this. You're an athlete and if you get hurt it'll affect your career. And you're probably drunk right now and completely regret it when you wake up tomorrow."

Yuuri handed him his glasses without a word and slicked his hair back. He gave Victor a smile, unzipping his jacket as he said, "I'm not drunk." He shot Victor a meaningful look. Maybe bolstered by some liquid courage, but not drunk. "You know how I am when I am drunk. Don't worry. I'll know when to stop."

The two of them walked over to the rest of the skaters who looked at Yuuri in concern. Yuri was dangerously enraged as he stomped up to Yuuri and kicked him hard in the shin.

"Ow! Yurio, you're really gonna injure me right before my match?!" Yuuri winced as he lifted his leg to rub his stinging shin.

"If that stops you from being absolutely stupid, then yes!" Yuri roared in his face. It was hard to be feel intimidated when the teen evidently couldn't help but glance down at his shin in badly disguised concern and apology. "Are you trying to get yourself out of commision for the Worlds?"

Mila stepped up and whacked Yuri on the back side of his head. "Don't get so violent, Yura," she said amiably, (The "you absolute hypocrite!" that followed was ignored) and then faced Yuuri with an unusually serious expression. "I know the GPF ended but that doesn't mean you shouldn't watch out for your body. Yura's right, there's still the Worlds and Four Continents to consider."

Yuuri smiled and let out an embarrassed laugh. "Thank you guys, but don't worry about me." He glanced at current fighters in the makeshift ring in the center of the room. "I know some basic fighting moves and this will save us all a lot of money."

Victor tried once again. "Money isn't an issue!"

"Basic fighting moves?!"

"Yuuri, are you serious?"

Just then, the announcer called out, "Yuuri Katsuki, the challenger, versus Finlay Aaron, running winner of seven so far!" The crowd went alive at the latter name, hooting and whooping with collective adrenaline.

Yuuri felt something strong and deep overtake him at the sight of Victor's concern. He stepped closer until they were inches away from each other and placed a firm finger over Victor's mouth. One side of Yuuri's lips pulled up into a smirk as he whispered roughly, "Only look at me."

He couldn't hear himself over the noise of the crowd and he wasn't sure if Victor could either, but it didn't matter when he saw Victor's low lidded eyes and heated gaze burning into him.

Yuuri shed his jacket and handed it to Victor. He walked through the throng of people, who eventually realized Yuuri was the challenger and made way for him. Yuuri could see they looked gleeful at the sight of him, sizing him up and finding no fight in him.

Yuuri knew what people thought of him. He was the unassuming, shy and inarticulate one who always needed prodding from others to get out of his comfort zone—and he was.

But he wasn't helpless.

The room wasn't very large nor furnished in any way. There was only an eight feet wide circle that most likely used to be white painted in the center of the area. The only light source was an obnoxiously bright light that shined directly above the ring. Everyone stood a good three or four feet around it except for a couple bouncers who were controlling the crowd.

Yuuri inhaled deeply through his mouth as he stepped out of the crowd and into the ring. "Aaand looks like we have our challenger, Yuuri Katsuki, here! Remember, every win gives you five free drinks. I know it doesn't sound like much, but it adds up. The moment a fighter surrenders or steps out of the ring, they're out! Once again, no weapons allowed!"

Despite the chaotic noise of the crowd and stench of sweat and alcohol, Yuuri felt more focused than ever. Blood was rushing through his veins and his mind was reeling with adrenaline, but his usual nerves were nowhere to be seen. He pushed back a few stray locks of hair that had fallen into his face again and rolled his sleeves up just below his elbows.

"We've tallied up the bets now!" The announcer shouted. "Wow! We've got a huge favorite over here! Twenty-seven for Aaron and three for Katsuki! Good luck to both of you!"

Yuuri only smiled without humor, staring across the ring at Finlay Aaron, his opponent. The man was without a doubt much larger in size and grinning at Yuuri as though he had already won.

The announcer extended his arm in the center of the ring and said, "Ready, set, and," the man quickly stepped out of the ring and shouted excitedly, "begin!"

Finlay and Yuuri did not move from their spot, merely gauging one another for a moment. There was a pregnant pause in the crowd that was suddenly broken as they roared into life when Finlay began advancing towards Yuuri.

For a small instance, it was jarring. But it slapped him into further focus that left him with sharper clarity. The outside noise faded away and the blinding light shining into his eyes was forgotten. All he could see was his opponent moving and the ring around them.

It had been a while since he had felt like this.

Aaron came into close quarters and swung a hook that Yuuri sidestepped easily. Immediately following the exchange, however, came a fist flying towards his face, so Yuuri jumped back, receiving a small scrape to his cheekbone that stung more than he thought it would.

Yuuri's eyes narrowed and his mouth tightened downward in a concentrated frown as he darted low into his opponent's space, leaving him no time to draw back to his center of balance. He drew up to his full height and threw a jab at Aaron's chin that stunned him momentarily. Then he forced his knee into the man's stomach, both of them letting out a short grunt for entirely separate reasons.

The larger man scrambled to recover, jumping back out of Yuuri's reach. His grin had long been wiped from his face, and instead was replaced with clenched teeth from pain and anger. Yuuri knew, after fighting seven matches in a row, that his opponent was worn out. It was evident in the tired slump of his shoulders and the film of sweat that had been perspiring even before he began their match.

So when Aaron charged towards him again, Yuuri foresaw the sloppy punch a mile away, sidestepped it and came up behind the man who was still locked in the momentum of his initial attack. He gave the man a simple push that sent Aaron toppling off balance towards the edge of the ring. He could feel his lips form a real smile as the larger man stumbling to regain his footing. Without wasting a second, Yuuri advanced toward him in two large steps and aimed a forceful sidekick right behind his knees as the man was getting ready to turn back around. Aaron cried out and fell onto the floor with a slam, a good portion of his upper body outside of the ring.

When Yuuri straightened his stance and looked up, the room was silent.

Then it exploded with noise, cheering and jeering alike that drowned out anything the announcer may have said. Yuuri searched the crowd for Victor, feeling something settle in his heart when he found him. Victor and the rest of his friends had managed to push their way to the front of the crowd and were all frozen, staring at him in dumbfounded surprise.

He smiled sheepishly and waved as he approached them. Victor recovered first, stepping towards him with his arms out wide as he always did to greet him when Yuuri did well on his program. They embraced, eliciting the crowd's volume to even further heights. His heartbeat took a sprint when he heard Victor's low voice and felt his breath tickle the shell of his left ear. "You never cease to surprise me, Yuuri."

They separated but still remained in the center of each other's gaze for another moment until someone clapped him hard on the back. Yuuri turned and saw Phichit with a huge grin full of teeth on his face. "I can't believe you never told me you were such a badass! You could have told me at least, Yuuri!"

"You said you knew some basic fighting, and what we saw was not basic!" Mila said in amazement.

Yuuri smiled and said honestly, "This is just something I dabbled a bit into in the past."

It was true. He didn't learn to fight for fun, but rather more for necessity, and only briefly. When he was younger, his soft spoken personality often attracted bullies, so his parents made him join karate class with Mari, who had been taking classes for a few years already. To his and everyone else's surprise, the martial art came easily to him. Yuuri had a critical mind that allowed him to think on his feet and adjust his strategies to the situation and the natural flexibility of a dancer. His karate instructor suggested him to try some tournaments, but Yuuri never felt the all consuming passion for the sport the way he did with skating, so he quit after middle school.

Finally the crowd calmed down a bit and the announcer had his turn to speak. "Oh my, oh my! The underdog has overtaken the favorite! I repeat: Yuuri Katsuki, the challenger, has overtaken Finlay Aaron, who had a winning streak of seven! Is it a fluke? We'll see in the next round!"

His friends wished him luck for the next round, and then he was back in the ring. The next challenger, Yuuri could see from a simple scan, didn't know what he was doing at all, and was rather drunk. It was over faster than his first round with a simple kick to his opponent's stomach. The crowd was still unsure of him at that point, unable to determine if the matches were flukes or not.

Then Yuuri won the next round with graceful ease yet again. The announcer proceeded to say a few phrases that would start something Yuuri never would have imagined: "The underdog—no, no—the mad dog has done it again!"

And then he won the next, and the one after that, all rather easily. By then, the whole room was cheering for him, chanting thunderously, "Mad dog! Mad dog! Mad dog!"

Soon, Yuuri reached the eleventh match. While defeating eleven men who were physically bigger and stronger than him back to back sounded amazing, he knew none of them were particularly experienced in fighting and most were fairly inebriated. Not to mention, Yuuri had always had extraordinary stamina on the ice, which naturally applied to this as well. He was, however, beginning to feel fatigued and knew he would have to put a stop to this before he got seriously injured from carelessness.

"Who would like to challenge the Mad Dog next?!" shouted the announcer. He had started calling Yuuri that after the third match, much to his own chagrin at the embellished title.

Yuuri approached the announcer to inform him of his forfeit. He had had enough of fighting for tonight. "Excuse me," he called out. The man turned to him and looked at him in a manner Yuuri recognized with resigned acknowledgement: wariness and fear at what Yuuri was capable of. After witnessing eleven men who should have been able to take Yuuri down, he supposed it was a simple matter of self-preservation to hold these feelings towards Yuuri. "I'd like to retire from the fight."

The man stepped back a bit in surprise and held the microphone away from his mouth. "Are you sure?" He eyed Yuuri's form briefly and continued, "You're not injured at all and your winning streak will end."

Yuuri tried to present himself as approachable as possible—something he never thought he would have to actually try to do—and gave him the most genuine smile he could muster. "Yes, I've had enough exercise for tonight so I'd rather rest now."

The announcer nodded. He turned back to the crowd and bellowed dramatically, "Looks like no one here can go up against the Mad Dog! He comes out of the ring in the same condition as he was coming in with eleven incapacitated others in his wake! Unbeatable!"

Yuuri ran a hand through his hair to hide his jittery fingers and began walking towards Victor and his friends.

"You were amazing up there," Victor intoned as he handed Yuuri his jacket. "But I would have stopped the next match myself if you kept going."

Yuuri nodded. Victor was his coach after all. "I cleared the cost of the drinks though, right?"

Victor looked at him in surprised silence before quickly returning to his cheerful self. He threw himself onto Yuuri in an enveloping hug. "Yes, Yuuri, you did clear it." Then, much to Yuuri's embarrassment, Victor began nuzzling into his neck. Victor murmured, "Next time just let me pay, OK?"

"V-victor!" When he didn't move, Yuuri conceded resignedly, "OK, I will."

"Good." He finally let go and they began walking towards the exit, where the rest of the skaters were already.

Then something strange happened.

The crowd parted for them like a wave, every head following them as they kept walking.

But that wasn't the weird part; Crowds had always parted for them when they entered the rink stadiums, airports, and hotels—no, that was normal. What was strange and unprecedented was the fact that they stepped back for Yuuri, and not Victor. Their eyes were not following the living legendary skater who walked beside him, but on him.

There was awe, respect and fear in their gazes, just as the announcer had. Yuuri grabbed Victor's hand and increased their pace.

"Yuuri?"

"Let's get out of here."

When they stepped outside, the first thing Yuuri received was another violent kick to the shin from Yuri. "H-hey! Yurio, you do that again, and I'll show you how I beat eleven people in a row!"

Yuri only scowled and began walked away. "C'mon Otabek, let's go. I don't wanna be around these losers anymore."

Otabek turned to Yuuri and said, "You have a lot more to you than you first seem. But I'm not too surprised, especially after watching you skate." The Kazakh dipped his head, an amused smile lining his lips. "I apologize for Yuri though. I think he's only angry at himself for underestimating you again." And with that, he left to catch up with Yuri.

Yuuri watched their retreating forms for a moment until he was interrupted by a familiar giggle next to him.

"Phichit," Yuuri began slowly. "You didn't post anything with me in it online did you?"

"Oh!" Two voices exclaimed. Pause. "Whoops!"

"Chris, you too?!"

"I'm getting a lot of responses from my posts too!" A disturbing pose was struck. "It's JJ Style!"

If Katsuki Yuuri ever visited Barcelona again and spoke with just about any resident who was involved with the underground ongoings of the city, they would all have heard about the legendary Mad Dog, the mysterious Asian man who, despite only being four foot six, defeated thirty people in a fight without breaking a sweat and never reappeared again. Those who claim to have witnessed the spectacular fights say that the man had the most angelic smile that melted the coldest hearts and the most vicious sidekick that broke the bones of the strongest men. One particular announcer swears the Mad Dog told him after utterly destroying the rumored thirty men that it was "only a light exercise" for him.

But Katsuki Yuuri has yet to ever visit Barcelona after the 2016 Grand Prix Finals, so he still remains ignorant to these rumors to this day.

I had fun writing this! :) Hope you guys had fun reading it.

Also, if you guys want me to write a second chapter about the social media's reaction to all the posts about him, just write down below and I may consider it. And if you don't care either way, any comment is much appreciated anyway!

Have a good one!