Christophe goes through his planned day like normal. He didn’t tell Yuuri this, but noon in Japan is five AM in Switzerland. He was not up when Yuuri called. The cause was worthy.

He lands butterfly-light in a swirl of hair and glittering gauze, and the ceiling crashes to the rink all around him. His ears are ringing with heartbeats, his efforts, the cries of the crowd. The rink wobbles under him -- must have landed a bit wrong but he can work through it. Only there are things strewn all over the ice; people usually know to wait until the end to throw roses and tokens and -- Not applause. Screams. The light is wrong because a fourth of the ceiling projectors are missing. The sky is dark. No stars. Something gleams behind the broken sky. And moves. Something he can't -- won't -- something. Something that's looking at him.

“You can’t quit skating to play children’s card games,” Celestino lectured. (In which the Yu-Gi-Oh trading card game exists and Phichit is very supportive of what is the weirdest direction for Yuuri to take coping with failure. Oh, and Viktor's there.)

xiii. no stranger to love “Houston, we have a problem,” says Phichit Chulanont as he looks up from his phone.