Yuri On Ice One-Shots

At War

"Viktor. Viktor, wake up."

Viktor looked up and saw Georgi kneeling in front of him. He sat up and grabbed the rifle lying on the ground beside him.

"Come on." Georgi took his hand and pulled him to his feet. "They started up again."

"I can hear that." Not far from them he could hear gunfire and cannons. The boots of soldiers trampled over the ground. "Are we advancing?"

"What do you think?" he scoffed.

Viktor shook his head. "We shouldn't be here."

"You're telling me."

A sharp wind blew past them. Viktor pulled the collar of his coat up, burying his nose below the fabric. "Is there any food?"

Georgi shook his head. "Rations are cut until tomorrow," he grumbled.

Viktor felt a sudden burst of sweat over his forehead. He wiped at his forehead. "Just relax," Georgi said, pulling his arm back.

"What?" he looked to his friend confused.

"You're delusional. Just relax."

Viktor squinted at his friend. His voice became out of sync with his lips. His voice wasn't as deep as it should have been. He felt as if he were falling back. He braced himself for impact on the ground, but it never came. Everything went fuzzy and Georgi disappeared.

He gasped for breath, his lungs suddenly starving for oxygen. His eyes danced frantically around, trying to position his location. He had been on the battlefield just now. Georgi had been right beside him. Japanese soldiers had overwhelmed them, they had been retreating, they'd-

There was a voice speaking in a language he wasn't familiar with. No, he knew this language. Japanese. He wasn't fluent, but he knew a few words. He stumbled around in his mind for the right words to say as his gaze focused around a young man sitting beside him. The man in front of him had black hair that seemed to be everywhere, his brown eyes almost no visible if he hadn't brushed his bangs to the side.

"Where am I?" Viktor asked in what must have sounded garbled to the native man in front of him.

"A military hospital camp," he said. "My name's Yuuri."

"My name is Viktor. Do you speak- uh, english?" he asked, looking for their word for the language.

"Yes," Yuuri said in english with a nod.

Viktor sighed in relief. He may have been a captive now, but at least he could adequately speak with this man. Yuuri put his hand on Viktor's shoulder, pushing him back to relax on the stiff cot. "What happened?"

"You don't remember?"

Viktor shook his head, trying to keep some form of eye-contact with the man.

"I can't tell you. I'm only a medic." He was quiet until he pulled a wet cloth from Viktor's forehead. "You've been running a fever for an hour. You need to relax."

Viktor looked down to find his arm in a sling while his opposite arm was partially dressed.

"You have a fracture in your right arm and your left is badly burnt," he explained as he began to complete dressing his burnt arm. He could see red and dark patches of flesh from his hand to about halfway to his elbow.

"It doesn't feel bad."

"That means it is bad." He finished wrapping his arm and didn't let it go just yet. He pressed on his wrist and down his arm, 'causing Viktor the slightest discomfort. "Does that hurt?"

"No."

Yuuri frowned.

"What is it?"

"Just rest for now." He let go of Viktor and stood up. Viktor watched him walk away before he called out. Yuuri looked back to him in silence as Viktor hesitated on speaking.

"Why are you helping me?" he finally asked. "We're at war."

"Our countries are at war over a piece of land," he clarified. "I don't have any quarrel with you." He looked away. "Besides, I told you, I'm a doctor. You're hurt and you needed help. It doesn't matter where you come from. Food should be brought to you shortly." He was just about to exit when Viktor stopped him again.

"Thank you."

He nodded. "Be careful. Not everyone sees you as an equal as I do."