Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/8766910.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage, Major_Character
      Death
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Yuri!!!_on_Ice_(Anime)
  Relationship:
      Katsuki_Yuuri_&_Victor_Nikiforov, Katsuki_Yuuri/Victor_Nikiforov
  Character:
      Katsuki_Yuuri, Victor_Nikiforov
  Additional Tags:
      Brothel_AU, wip_longfic, No_Beta, not_canon_@_all_lmao, Slow_Burn,
      Tragedy, Bittersweet, Romance, Prostitution, hard_reality_of_that_time
      period, end_of_edo_period
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-12-06 Updated: 2016-12-09 Chapters: 3/? Words: 4924
****** 雨夢楼 ******
by gross_ghost
Summary
     The seasons cycle by, and he waits.. It feels like an eternity. Ever
     so hopeful, the young boy grasps onto those words spoken by the blue-
     eyed foreigner, believing that he’ll release him from the bindings of
     that lonely, glimmering street. (Japanese brothel AU)
Notes
     Aaaa let's see how this goes!! Kinda want it to be a longfic!! I'll
     try to push out at least a chapter a week!! comments are so
     appreciated im like the most unmotivated person ever
***** 遠い記憶 *****
Chapter Summary
     a glimpse at crushed hopes.
 
What illusive words they were.
“I’ll come back for you, so wait for me.."
However, as time trickles by and seasons roll on, I still wait and believe in
those bittersweet tasting lies.
 
===============================================================================
 
You, whose hair was starlight, glistening from the faint raindrops of that dim
evening. A male who didn’t look typical, with those scrying eyes that reminded
me of the wavering ocean. You weren’t from here; no, not from the autumn lands
of Kyoto, not even from Japan. You were a foreigner. Why were you here? That, I
don’t have the slightest clue. All I knew and remembered was that fleeting
moment when you stumbled upon the wet, green yard of the brothel. At the time,
I recall I was folding one of the worker ladies' under-robe, a hiyoku; soft to
the touch and as white as the clouds. I had quite a pile next to me on the
wooden edge of the house, and knew I shouldn’t get too distracted. However, I
couldn’t rip my eyes off of you.. You seemed too unreal. Never have I met a
foreigner in my small life; I’ve heard plenty of stories from the older
roommates of the palace, but they were tales of men with stern shadows across
their faces and crystal blue eyes. I’ve also heard that the majority of them
had honey blonde hair- but you.. Your hair was long, and the color of the grey
sand at the nearby shores; sprinkled with silver sediments that seem to
glimmer, and littered with leftover milky seafoam. I must have looked like a
fool with my mouth agape, jaw slightly aching from the pure astonishment I felt
towards you.
Despite my obvious discourtesy to you, you cast a grin towards me. The apples
of my cheeks felt warm at that, even with the chilly damp air brushing against
us. Then my movements became clunky; I had noticed that I froze while folding
the garments, and quickly tried to snap back into my reality. Eyes shifted
downwards, I fervently tried to get back to my duties while you took a few
strides towards my way. I could feel my breathing slow.
I remember thinking to myself, ‘Is he going to talk to me? Why would he want to
speak to me, a common youth?’. All those jumbled up thoughts racing through my
head were halted by a warm brush of skin against the side of my jaw. I stopped
my actions midway, a hand raised to grab another hiyoku as my eyes reached
upwards, landing on his features; he was breath takingly beautiful.. As if he
was carved from pure marble stone. Pale ivory with droplets of faint rain
casted upon, strands of his tied-back hair loosening against the weather. I
knew I must’ve been as red as the autumn maple leaves on the ground behind us..
I was extremely embarrassed at the lack of hospitality I was showcasing. The
other male spoke of a laugh, crisp through the rain.
 “What’s your name?” I could hear his accent, thick. It made me wonder where he
was from.
“My name is Yuuri, K-Katsuki Yuuri..” I internally kicked myself at the
stutter.
Swallowing a breathe I didn’t know I was holding, I casted a glance to the
puddle on the ground. Should I even be talking to this stranger? He couldn’t
have been a customer could he..?  He did seem to look as if he was four or five
years above my own age at the time.
 
The stranger released his touch on my cheek and i shuddered at the loss.
“My name is Viktor. Viktor Nikiforov.” Viktor. It sounded as if the name
belonged to a prince, a king even. Viktor.
 
“Yuuri.” I instantly straightened up at my name. The way it rolled off of his
tongue made me feel warm inside, blossoming throughout my chest. He repeated it
a few times before settling down besides me, on the other side of the clothing
pile.
 
“What are these?” He points down at the garments with such a pure sense of
curiosity. I dared to crack a tiny smile at that, the pink of my cheeks
seemingly toning down at noticing a sense of innocence on the other. I clumsily
brought one of the robes up in the small space between us.
 
“These are called Hiyoku. People wear them under their kimono, it’s one of the
many layers that completes the outfit and keeps you warm.” I reply, feeling a
tiny gush of pride at my faint knowledge. This causes Viktor to nod, a small
‘o’ shape on his lips.
 
“Do you wear one too, Yuuri? Do you wear the kimonos that the other women wear
in this establishment?”
 
I didn’t know how to reply to that. Of course, at a brothel, all the
prostitutional workers are looked upon to receive such extravagant silks and
fabrics. It attracts the eye and attention of the male passerbys.. I would be
lying if I said I didn’t think they looked beautiful. Bright patterns of
chrysanthemums; reds and golds, the occasional purples and blues. The garments
were long and trailed behind you as you walked, heavy but warm and comforting,
especially in the colder seasons.
However, such pretty silks were worn by the older ladies here for that very
reason; to attract customers. I was past the age where I was to start real work
amongst the others in the household, but our caretaker and head housewoman was
a kind old soul who felt sorrow for the occasional younger workers. She had let
me and my other friend wait until we reached the age of sixteen, when usually
you were to start at ten or eleven. I was eternally grateful for that stretch
of dignity, and remember feeling slightly bothered by remembering the
information at the time.
 
“No.” I started, unknowingly starting to lean against his shoulder.
“I won’t be wearing them for another three years.” I remember feeling pained at
those words, smiling ruefully. Viktor seemed to notice though, and I was sure
he knew what the place was and what the workers did. I was sure of it; most of
the fabled foreigners that came around the area eagerly come to this house to
buy night upon nights of women and the services that they advertised. The
thought made me stiffen a bit and I turned away from him. However, Viktor
seemed to have noticed my discomfort and pulled away from our proximity anyway.
 
“You won’t have to, Yuuri..” He started, trailing off at my name. The silver
haired foreigner moved to grasp my hand against his lap. It felt warm against
the softening rain.
 
My shoulders eased as I hummed in slight appreciation, glancing up at him
through raven eyelashes. What did he mean by those words? Viktor probably
sensed my confusion and pursed his lips. He suddenly stood up and took a few
steps forward, away from the coverage of the roof. The rain was dying, but tiny
sprinkles and droplets made his hair shimmer.
 
He didn’t turn around, he kept his eyes on the thin maple tree in front of us,
it's leaves thick and red. Back towards me, he spoke again, with words I
thought I would never forget-
 
“I’ll come back for you, so wait for me.”
 
With that, he walked out of the yard. That was the last time I saw him ever
again.
 
The thought was soft and reassuring, I poured my entire being into that one
small phrase. I had just met him, was there a reason to believe what he had
just spoken? At the time, my naive self thought Yes, that Viktorwith his sea
dusted greyblue eyes and sandy starlight hair said he’s going to come back
before I have to start my life in shame as a brothel worker..
 
===============================================================================
 
It wasn’t his job to keep his word, of course not. I should have known that a
stranger wouldn’t do something like that for me, especially someone so far away
from my world like Viktor. I was useless; an utterly helpless young boy who was
sold at age nine. I wasn't bitter about it at the time, I was so clueless.. In
a sense. I knew what the older women did, I couldhear them late at night when
they gossiped with each other; smoking from long thin pipes and wiping their
makeup off, speaking of  stories about how they were ‘too rough’ or ‘ruined
their garments’.
 
I picked up on it all, I really did.
 
Yet, a small sense of hope that was cast in front of me in the shape of that
male nobody was something I held onto dearly.
 
And I hate to admit it, to my woeful self. I still hold a tiny speck of truth
to those accented words.
 
***** 手鞠 *****
Chapter Summary
     apprehensive wanderlust.
Chapter Notes
     Introduction of our main youth。
The air was chilled that day, with soft gusts of wind blowing ever so lightly
at bright red curtains hanging from the entrance of a local business. It seemed
to be an eatery, a wooden sign hung daintily above reading “Katsuki Udon” in
clean-cut white kanji letters. A young boy, just about the age of eight, is
seen adjusting the restless squares of fabric. Pinning a small fold of the
cotton on each side of the rough-edged doorway, the male let out a pleased
noise as the curtains finally settled. Stepping back, he yawned and started to
stretch his arms upwards, relishing in the satisfying ‘pop’ from the action. He
had raven locks just past his ears and looked rather soft, cheeks plump and
dusted a slight salmon against the open weather. Clad in a casual navy Jinbei
outfit, he was known as the only son of the Katsuki family. They weren’t
wealthy, but make just enough to scrape by with the income from the mediocre
noodle house.

The establishment was only a restaurant in the first room though; as soon as
one passes the doorway, they are met with a decent sized tatami-floored area.
Three tables lined against the walls neatly, two seat-like cushioned positioned
under each sides of the furniture for the customers to comfort themselves on
while they dine. It was a simple traditional design, small and quaint. The
walls were decorated with paintings of famous samurais from the town lores and
scrolls of graceful poems. Behind this area lies the kitchen which connects to
the household’s living spaces, where we see the young boy walk into. He seems
mildly bored, looking around the tiny room for something to do. When he sees
that the futon sheets, mattresses, and washed clothing were folded and neatly
shoved into the sliding closet, he let a small frown tug at the ends of his
lips. He had already tidied up.
 
‘What to do, what to do..’ he thought, absent mindedly shuffling to the
backdoor of the room. When he stepped outside once more, he was met with a
bustling street with busy people. Some of them carrying freshly bought grains
of rice, others chatting idly amongst each other. Groups of people wearing
exquisite looking fabrics and colors caught the child’s eye, gluing them to the
women with beautiful kimonos and graceful posture. The garments looked
wonderfully layered and dotted with flowers of camellias and blossoms, the only
thing that he thought that set them apart from the others wearing similar
threads was the way they tied their belt or obi. It was loosely knotted
frontwise, the fabric wrapping around right above their natural waistline.

When one of the ladies took a glance at him and noticed his admiring gaze, she
smiled back kindly, plum red lips glistening upon pale porcelain skin. This
made the boy blush abashedly. He quickly turned his eyes elsewhere as she
walked away, on anything; they landed on a group of children his age. They
seemed to be buying a temari ball from the local toy store; the silk and cotton
sphere was indeed pretty, wrapped in colors of delicate golds, vibrant reds and
blues, and finished off in a thin string of black. The young girl holding it
thanked the owner with a cheerful smile and handed it to another kid; a male
with chocolate brown hair, who took it with a loud thank-you. They were both
laughing then, a warm color dusted onto their cheeks as they run off into the
crowd. 

Ah, friends!
The young boy paused and sighed lonesomely, shuffling back into his house. He
wouldn’t mind having a friend or two; someone to call out to when he feels
lonely, a person he can share his time with. Days weren’t exactly peachy in his
world, as his parents spent long hours in the evenings trying to think of ways
to gain more wealth. He loved them both, but sometimes it feels like they
forget he’s even there living with him. He rarely gets to see his father, as
the man often is seen picking rice in the fields far off from the district they
were in. The father would come home covered in mud and irritated, shivering
from the lack of warmth the muddy waters left on his work attire. This caused
disruption to the young boy’s sleep on most nights, with his mother being
yelled at unintentionally by the older man’s quick temper. He had liked his
mother, as she would make him his favorite thick noodles and warm brothy soup
on cold days, just for the two to enjoy while the male of the household is out.
The child feels grateful towards her, as she lets him help out in the kitchen
while on work hours. Standing beside her washing the rice and looking up at her
tiresome smile made him feel a twist inside. It always did, he wondered if she
was content with life.
He wondered if he himself was content in life. Just as he slipped into another
thought, a loud voice called out for him.
“Yuuri!” it was rough with the faintest line of annoyance.
Had his father come home from the fields early today? With a wonder in his
mind, he cautiously stepped into the shop room. There sat an older looking
woman and a bald man on one side of a table, knees flat on the cushion. His
parents sat on the opposite side- The new pair oozed of fortune, both donning
beautifully patterned silks. The male of the family gestured for Yuuri to sit
between him and the child’s mother, who was strangely tense. The boy’s head
tilted to her, wondering why she was staring so hard down at her lap. When he
tipped his eyes towards her hands, they were sitting on her apron, but they
weren’t resting there.. They were white and taut, skin pulling as she dug her
fingers through the bunching fabric.
The father cleared his throat, cutting the crisp silence. Yuuri snapped his
head back to the two strangers across from him who seemed to be scanning the
young boy up and down. He suddenly felt uncomfortable under their wealthy gaze,
pulling his cheap cotton Jinbei outfit tighter to his small frame.
“See, this is my son. Only at the ripe age of nine years, he’s a reserved and
quiet child! Loves to clean and helps out a great deal in our kitchen.” He
finishes, a faux grin on his chapped red lips. They look like they've been
bitten with nervousness.
The woman locks her eyes with mine, a look of uncertainty crossing her face.
She leaned over to the hairless man besides her and pulled a hand trailed with
fabrics to cover at the whispers. The male connected a look with her and sat up
straight, gaze hard on the adult male across from him.
“Is he clean? Untouched. He has no experience, correct?”
His voice was deep and old sounding, as if he said this a million times in his
life. The boy began to wonder what older man meant in that sentence, but the
curiosity was cut short by his father.
“Of course; he’s practically been sheltered his whole life, right son? Do you
have any friends you play with?” Yuuri wanted to cut him off the sentence from
the amount of embarrassment he felt. Before he could answer, the annoyed adult
cut him off-
“No, he doesn’t, he’s completely new to this business world. I had visited your
establishment to sell, not to waste time.. Would you be willing to buy this
child?” Irritation trickled into his father’s voice.
Buy? The young male looked up at the older man with wide eyes. Shock ran
through him as he pieced the scene together; his mother was stressed, she
wasn’t saying a single word, wasn’t even looking at him or the strangers. The
woman across kept staring at him, and his father seemed agitated.. Sold. The
word echoed in his mind. Being away from his parents, away from this small life
with the family noodle shop doing god knows what. The thought made him queasy
with nerves. He didn't know what to think.
Another silence passes through the air, atmosphere thick with apprehension. The
man gave a final click of his tongue and nodded, bringing out a parchment of
thinly painted words with a line at the end.
“Sign here and he’s sold..” The man stated, eyes wandering back to his chest,
pulling out a few golden coins from his under garment. The father bit back a
gasp at the sight, practically drooling at the shining currency. He quickly
scribbled the family name onto the thin sheet and took the money. Yuuri
couldn't believe how fast he had pawned him off to, his own father. He held
back a mirage of emotions that ran through him all at once, not wanting to
disrespect the older. Biting his lower lip, he felt himself quiver from fear.
Suddenly, his father turned to his wife with an expression of absolute relief:
 “Look dear, we’re saved! We can keep the shop going, the shop you love so
much!” He cheered with glee. The woman one seat away from him let out a
shuddering breath and a sob wracked through her body. She suddenly stood up,
not sparing a glance at her son and ran to the back of the kitchen. Yuuri
silently gasped at the display, worry dripping from his heart.
He felt cold as a chill crawled through his spine. His family had sold him to
two people he’s never met in his life; what were they going to do with him?
Would he have a place to call home? Would he have enough food, or, he shudders
at the idea.. would he be treated horribly? He didn’t even know what he was to
do. Anxious nerves coursed in his veins, his palms hot and small beads of sweat
starting to form under his fringe. What was going to happen to him? He didn’t
have time to finish the thought as he was hauled up and eagerly shoved towards
the pair by his own father. The woman gave him a worrisome look as she took his
hand and led him into a deep red carriage, the bald man sighing behind them.
The child never saw his home again.
***** 彼岸花 *****
Chapter Summary
     Butterflies behind a cage.
Chapter Notes
     I'm going 2 fail my class assignments bc of this shit fic ,, lmao ah
     well!! comments are super appreciated as usual :~)
Hushed whispers quickly die down as the carriage reached near it’s destination.
Yuuri had fallen asleep, taking the tiniest bit of comfort in knowing that he
could escape reality in soft swirling dreams; however, this was not the right
time it seems. The deep red compartment glared off reflections of golden light
from the directions of varying consumer establishments. The young boy was
nudged awake with a soft elbow to his side, eyes snapping open with surprise.
He quickly turned his head to see the woman next to him, eyes lowered with
exhaustion and worry. She gestured for him to step out of the carriage. A flash
of uncertainty flickered through his eyes as he did so.
With small anxious steps, Yuuri kept his shaking breath down. Landing a sandal-
clad foot on the ground, he instantly felt a shiver run up his skin- the air
was freezing cold. Clamping his arms to his chest, he brought his vision to his
surroundings and drawled a gasp at the complete change in scenery; the street
looked rich in vibrant reds on top of blacks, shops roofs trimmed with the
occasional moon white color of snow. Eateries ranging with specialties from
fresh sashimi, delicate pastries, and kabob sticks littered each side. The
sweet smell of red bean paste wafted through the air, causing the boy a longing
swallow. Wherever he was, the area was definitely on the wealthier side. People
all around were in and out of jewelry shops and intricate fabric stores, arms
full of wrapped goods.
Yuuri snapped back to his senses when he heard the woman call out for him. She
took his hand into her own, cold fingers meeting velvety warmth. The sleeve of
her kimono inched down past the child’s knuckles, urging the chill away from
his palms with layers of soft silk. This slowly seemed to calm his nerves, as
the adult felt the boy’s apprehensive grip loosen. She tilted her eyes back
towards him and spoke-
“Yuuri, was it?” The younger looked up at and nodded shyly. She clicked her
tongue and let a soft tug at the corners of her lips.
“I’m Fumiko, one of the owners of Higanbana. Has your father explained to you
what work you are to do here?” The last sentence made his worries return in
full force. Yuuri bit at his lower lip and quickly shook his head. The woman
hummed back and chuckled, eyebrows beginning to pull together just slightly at
the response. The two walked through the crowd until a wall of black wooden
bars were visible, faintly resembling an expensive cage. The child tipped his
head forward to get a view of what lied inside and felt his cheeks ripen at the
sight:
Behind the bars lazily sat an array of about eighteen females, all arranging
from what looked like ages thirteen to thirty. Each of the ladies donned layers
of thick and thin silks of extravagant looking robes, every garment creating an
illusion of riches to the passerby’s eyes. Their faces were pristinely painted;
thin lines of black across their eyelids with long outstretching lashes and
plump lips as vibrant as winter cherries. The roundness of their cheeks were
dusted with a soft salmon, seemingly to grow brighter in the cold weather. Dark
hair contrasted against snowy skin in an array of up-dos and natural lengths,
rousing disheveled locks cascading down their porcelain threadbare shoulders.
To Yuuri, the women looked extraordinarily beautiful.
‘Almost like butterflies behind a cage,’ he thought to himself.
The ladies took notice of him and started to whisper to each other. Unable to
make out what was being said, he felt the slight tug of self consciousness
pulling at his chest until Fumiko started leading him past the kimono clad
women to finally what looked like an entrance. It was grand and wide, with a
counter directly behind it in the open air. Above the opening, Large letters of
intricate golden kanji were printed upon a sleek black sign. Long red curtains
made of thick linen draped over the wooden beam that hung above of the
establishment, hastily lifted by the elder lady’s arms to step inside. Yuuri
felt his stomach do flips as his nostrils were assaulted by a strong wafting
smell of burning incense. His eyes scanned the area before him and saw Fumiko
talking to the lady at the desk. Short puffs of laughter were exchanged quickly
as the woman explained how tired she was from the trip. Hearing in on the bit,
the boy had reluctantly felt his lips pull into a small smile, trying to
contain a nervous giggle. The lady whom she was talking to then finally took a
look at him and the boy shyly waved, shuffling up next to Fumiko.
“Yuuri huh? What a cute name. Delicate, almost like a lily flower.” She let out
a howl at the child’s reddening cheeks and put a hand on his left shoulder, her
own exposed from the loose outfit.
“I’m Fuuko. You’ll be living here with us from now on, so I expect you to work
hard! It isn’t so bad once you get used to it anyway.” His curiosity peaked
when the word ‘work’ was mentioned, nervously raising his eyes to meet the
Fuukos.
“What will I be doing?” Was all he could muster up, voice accidentally
quivering from the ever-returning slow apprehension. Fumiko sighed then,
casting a glance at the other female. She took the initiative and began to
explain, eyes full of faux emotion as she gestured towards her long kimono,
pointing out how expensive and pretty it was. All Yuuri could do was nod in
agreement with her as she went on, talking about how he’ll be wearing the same
rich colored garments. She didn’t seem to be direct with what his job was, but
focused on exclamations of how he’ll look wonderful. Fuuko clapped her hands
together at the end of her co worker’s explanation and started her own quicker
one, despite the glare the other gave her-
“Long story short, you’ll be working as these ladies are! Look extravagant to
attract customers and spend short nights with them!” The enthusiasm in her
voice didn’t draw Yuuri away from the words ‘short nights’. He tilted his head
to the side slightly, confusion swimming through his face. Fumiko's patience
seemed to have thinned out at the lack of empathy in the sentence, causing her
to strike an upsetting look at her co-worker.
“He’s only eight years old, he doesn’t know nor understand what’ll happens in
those rooms past evening.” She clicked her tongue in annoyance now, the
exhaustion evident in her voice and features. Fuuko let out a small ‘oh’ and
brought a sleeve up to hide her lips. A silence passes between the three until
she breaks it again, hoping to mend the air.
“Why don’t we wait until a little later for him to work then? It seems much too
early for someone who’s as young as this child- Yuuri is..” She trailed off,
eyes quietly begging at the other woman. Fumiko quirked a small frown, shutting
her eyes.
“I’ve already completed the payments, he belongs to the business now. He cost
quite a bit, and I don’t want a freeloader staying at my fine establishment.”
Yuuri was lost, wondering what they meant by ‘too early’. 
“Why don’t you make him keep the place tidy? Wash our gowns and scrub down the
flooring. There has to be something other than becoming a yuujo.” Yuujo.. ? 
The young boy quickly questioned to himself. However the thought was pushed
away as he picked up on the conversation of cleaning work:
“I can clean.. I can keep this place spotless, I can wash clothes too- I also
helped out in my mother’s kitchen a lot if that helps-” He trailed off, voice
becoming smaller at the memory of his mother. The way her sobs wracked through
her frail body as she ran out the room was fresh in his mind, causing a small
shiver to run down his spine. He hoped she was alright, even if he thought that
she didn’t want him. Clenching his small fists, he bit back the warmth welling
up beneath his eyes and looked hopefully at the pair of older women. 'Do what
you can for them and for mother'. Sucking in cold air, he started.
“I don’t think my parents were satisfied with my presence anymore, but I'd like
to work hard. Whatever reason it may have been for them to.. sell me, I will
try to do as I can for you.” Fumiko’s features softened in pity as Fuuko
instantly took his hands into her own, cooing objections to his statement. The
small boy seemed to have taken the situation and lolled it through his mind a
few times throughout long trip, coming to the conclusion that his mother and
father wouldn't have done it if they didn't have to. 'That's got to be it'.
“We’re so sorry you had to join us like this Yuuri.” She pursed her red lips
and went on.
“It’ll be fun, everyone is nice here and you’ll gain popularity fast-”
Suddenly, the older woman cut her off with a crisp clearing of her throat, eyes
seeming to harden against the child. She hesitated before reluctantly
beginning:
“He can work on housework duties for now. However, as soon as he reaches age
thirteen he’s going straight out behind those bars with the rest of them.” Her
voice would have probably sounded venomous if the boy hadn't have notice the
slight pity behind the woman’s tone.
Yuuri felt a weight lift off of his chest and let a small tired grin stretch
across his face, eyes beginning to squeeze just slightly. He didn’t fully
understand what his suppose-to-be job was, but at that moment he felt instant
gratefulness for the owner for letting him do what he can. He felt a sudden
surge of anticipation start at his toes and turned to shuffle away from the
desk. Stepping out from under the wooden overhead, he lifted the red linen
curtains out of his way as he took two steps forwards and turned to face the
entrance. Tilting his head back, he read the name of the establishment with the
pretty women behind sleek wooden bars.
Higanbana.
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