And Therewithal I Cut My Hair {Yuri On Ice}

And Therewithal I Cut My Hair

Haircuts are surprisingly terrifying.

For once, Victor wishes he had made one of his usual spur of the moment decisions. Waltzing into the nearest salon and announcing he wanted short hair would have been much more painless. But showing up to the World Championship with his hair suddenly cut short is much more his style. Plus, silly as it was, it gave him time to say goodbye.

So, tucked up in his hotel room in Turin, he brushes his hair slowly, watching the silvery strands pass through the bristles. Really, this is one of his few practical decisions. After all, his hair knots easily. He'd save so much time in the shower. And, if he's anything like his father, his hair would start thinning out early anyway, so it'd hardly be attractive to keep it long then.

Plus...it really was an inevitability with his chosen field. He'd made himself by playing with the line between feminine and masculine. It had been fun, but more importantly, it surprised people. It made them talk, and he had loved every bit of it. But, of course, that had to end.

"Don't get used to this style," Yakov warned told him after he'd won gold after his second Grand Prix Final. "You've already grown eight centimeters; this won't work for much longer."

"Good, I'm already getting bored of it," Victor had laughed in response.

It wasn't true, but it was easier for him to say. He knew that his sudden jump in height was a sign of changes to come. His now-trademark ethereal style wouldn't work with broad shoulders and a solid frame. Despite Yakov's constant despairing over his carelessness, Victor was well-aware of when it was time to change.

And more than that, the whispers and gasps at his performance had seemed quieter, and the articles were markedly less enthusiastic about that year's program. He could win for another year with technicality alone, but without that element of surprise, would it be worth it?

No. He'd rather die.

He lets out a small huff as he starts to braid his hair. He loops the hair around itself loosely, almost carelessly. He does the same thing whenever he starts choreographing, the easy, repetitive movement keeping him focused as he visualizes the routine in his head. It's also an excellent method for calming nerves on the rare occasion he gets anxious. It doesn't do much for him now, though.

His hair had survived his transformation from boy to man, and he used it to his advantage. Once used to skating with a new body, he set his trajectory to medieval romance. For one season, he was an errant knight, with a short program that was a battle for love and a free skate showing his tragic, untimely death. The next, he was a prince; his short program was a joyful coronation and his free skate presented him as a fierce, tyrannical ruler.

It had been great fun, and this year had been equally fun with a fairy tale theme (His free skate costume even had a swan wing arm-piece with real feathers!). His executions had been flawless all the way to the Grand Prix Final, and he was riding high on another great season.

But it just took one article to send everything crashing down.

Grand Prix Final results: Nikiforov Defends Title, Zhou Takes Gold

This year's Grand Prix of Figure Skating has come to a close,
featuring several new faces standing on the podium this year: 
most notably China's Zhou Chunhua, who took gold in the ladies' event.
In the men's event, however, Victor Nikiforov once again reigns
supreme after a typically excellent performance.

"Typically excellent."

Typical.

The very thought cut through Victor like a knife. It was time to re-calibrate. So, the moment he was back in St. Petersburg, he threw himself into planning a completely new program for the World Championship. That alone would be surprising; it always caused a stir when a skater switched programs mid-season. Why, the fuss it had caused when he was eighteen had...