[Yuri on Ice] Everything from the sea

The round porthole was gray and black.The night sky almost blends with the dark sea water, and the occasional white waves make the world seem to be shaking.

24-year-old Viktor Nikiforov knelt on his humble bunk, which looked like two wooden boards, and scratched his finger on the window glass, as if to wipe away the dirty stains splashed by the sea outside. Water stains—then he felt the familiar nausea in his throat again, and he quickly bent over the wooden bucket by the bed and vomited.

After a moment he sat up straight on the bed, rinsed his mouth with his army canteen, and took tissues from the small travel bag.He rubbed a tissue on his bearded mouth with a tissue in his hand, his eyes still on the small travel bag.

There was only a set of change of clothes and the black suit in that small travel bag, toothbrushes, towels and other daily necessities - he hardly took anything given to him by Shengsheng's family, and almost threw them away.He has never been so aware that he needs a new start, one that does not rely on anyone but only on himself, so that he can burst out with more power to protect more things.In fact, he hates relying on others, but he has no choice from having nothing to slowly getting used to it and then reluctant to leave, but enough, he was forced to leave, but from the moment he left, he felt a deep feeling from the depths of his soul. Something that came up again, something that he had had before the age of 16 and sublimated like a hidden thing for so many years-independence, calmness and strength.

There are some important things in the interlayer of the travel bag-Yakov's military officer's card, notebook, his own junior sergeant's card, and a yellowed, crumpled and almost illegible admission letter.He carefully pulled out the paper from the interlayer, looked at it again, and sighed.

They will definitely have to let themselves take the test again.

He put the paper back and lay down on the bunk with his arms alternating behind his head.He hated this cargo ship, and also hated this undeveloped era—Hasezu didn't have a plane, and he didn't even have a passenger ship that was temporarily sent to Tokyo late at night. The cargo ship that made him nauseous—he was already a little seasick, and he would never have made up for those rough navies if he hadn't been forced to—and this dirty makeshift bunk, with its weird nausea in the air, As a clean freak, he wanted to jump into the ocean and swim to Tokyo many times—but he could still bear it, he could bear anything, for—

A cute, chubby little face appeared in his mind.When he smiles, his brown eyes are always bright, and when he is shy, the roots of his ears are red, and whenever he cries, he always opens his mouth wide, and huge teardrops rush out from his eye sockets , as if hitting his heart.Also, when he was drunk, there was. . . . . .

It's raining a little bit.The sky, which was still drizzle just now, quietly became more blurred.The lotus in the pond bent over listlessly, and the raindrops fell on the water, making circles of ripples.The cherry blossoms and kapok in the courtyard were scattered with leaves and fragmented petals, scattered on the steps of the corridor, the wet stone road, and scattered on the two people in the open space in the middle of the courtyard.

A samurai—he feels like a samurai, wearing a gray-black tunic (haori) of fine texture, with white buttons hanging down his belly, black socks and clogs, and a long slack waist tied Wearing a black knife case.The long knife he held in one hand was still shining indifferently under the washing of the rain.He wears a hairstyle that is relatively rare in this era-the sideburns and the back of his head are almost shaved, short black hair is messily covered on his big head, and the broken bangs are combed back.The skin is a bit dark, and under the thick eyebrows are a pair of big black eyes.

Although the person across from him was also wearing a formal attire - white long hakama and white socks, but his posture seemed to be drunk, his steps were not steady, and the hand holding the knife seemed to be a little wobbly.His eyes were a little dazed, the rain ran down his black hair and into his neck, and his face was blushing strangely, which made him look like a big boy who just learned to hold a bamboo sword.

"Why don't they compete formally in the dojo? Why don't they wear armor and use bamboo swords? Why is it like a life-and-death duel?" Minako, who was wearing red and white single clothes, stood at the bottom of the corridor, "slapping" impatiently. Holding her folding fan, which was also embroidered with cranes and wisteria, a gust of fragrant wind blew towards the person next to her, making the silver-haired young man sneezed.

"They say it's more manly."

"Be more manly? Is that something Yuuri would say? What's wrong with him?"

"He drank too much." Victor sighed as if he was unwilling to admit the fact, and put his hand on his forehead. "By the time I felt the need to stop him, that wine jar was already empty."

Moreover, they were still arguing yesterday.Victor thought helplessly, but if he knew, or even knew that he had been having a fever, he would not have let him drink like this—he had just passed the rite of passage for drinking, and he didn't want to limit his desire, but It never occurred to him that he'd be someone else when he was drunk—probably a drunk, but not quite, he didn't know how to describe it, and he didn't know how to describe it anymore since they started doing it.

Tokugawa Yukio didn't know when he put away the knife, he inserted the knife back into the scabbard, stood silently with his hands on it, lowered his head and didn't look at his opponent.It feels contemptuous, especially when the opponent is a drunk - almost immediately, Yuuri Katsuki is irritated, and he slides forward quickly to the right to deliver a frontal thrust from him. It can be seen that he used almost [-]% of his strength unnecessarily, and the opponent barely dodged——Tokugawa Yukio just tilted his head, quickly pulled out the knife to deflect the attack and aimed at the opponent's left Attack the opponent's left elbow in the gap.

Yuuri dodges, then frantically attacks from all directions.His style is still a combination of kendo and ancient swordsmanship—obviously he got "foreign assistance" from Victor. Although his genre belongs to the ancient Beichen Yidao style, there has never been such a "one sword" as today. "flow" became "counting knife flow"-let's say, because he poured almost all his strength into each knife, which was very exhausting, but the effect was not good-the opponent kept using the sword to dissolve one by one, and then it became The situation of crossing swords.But the time they exchanged swords was very short, each time Yuuri gasped and backed away, and Tokugawa put the knife back into the scabbard-he seems to have inherited the main style of "Yin Liu", if the enemy does not move, I will not move If the enemy moves, there will be flaws.

The stalemate made the drunk Yuuri very anxious.He stood still for a few seconds, remembering Victor's instructions.He needs to use moves like "Iai Slash" to kill in one hit, but something has to be done before that.

What to do to confuse the other party?Yuuri tried to think hard, but his alcoholic brain seemed out of his control.He rushed over, and then drew an arc above the opponent's head with his sword in the void—often the attack is right after this—obviously the opponent also realized this, and narrowed his eyes to welcome the person who came from an unknown direction. Attack, but he did not wait.Yuuri's knife made a nice arc and came back to his side, and he made a circle himself - before stabbing at him again.

"Puchi." Minako laughed as Yuuri began swinging the knife erratically, with a deft movement of his wrist, swinging the knife like a torch, a ribbon, or an arc of lightning.He himself also turned quickly, not just sliding and dodging steps and other necessary steps, he moved his body messily and gracefully, constantly bullying the opponent, while the opponent kept retreating , with a wincing expression on his face - not that Yuuri's moves looked powerful and dangerous, but that they were so strange that one couldn't help but feel that this was some kind of novel trap.

Victor also showed a helpless smile.But he quickly stopped smiling and cupped his chin in one hand.

It's weird, it's so weird.However, it cannot be said that it is not effective, and——

The rain kept falling on Yuuri's head, his clothes, and his blade.The rapid movement made his clothes flutter, and the occasional rotation made the light of the knife condense into shining arcs. Sometimes his clogs were powerful, and sometimes they lightly tapped on the slate, making a crisp snapping sound, and his short black hair fluttered. In the air, his eyes gradually changed from confusion to determination. . .

Victor couldn't look away.He didn't look like he was fighting with swords, much less like dueling - he looked like he was dancing.But the dancing posture is not without purpose, after each rotation or shifting movement, there is always an offensive trick - "Slicing", "Moon Shadow" and "Basic Slash". . .He used all the things he arranged for him, his mind was not clear, but he still remembered them all.

After countless times of such complicated and messy attacks, Yukio Tokugawa was forced to the edge of the pond.But that was the end of it, as he gradually read his rhythm--probably the limit of a drunk man--Tokugawa silently read his steps, found the timing, and he resisted the last wave Attacking, cutting through the opponent's gap at almost invisible speed - Yuuri's midriff, a wide diagonal and a clean crosscut, but at the last moment he replaced the blade with the back - Yuuri was caught Bending from the side, he fell to his knees by the pond, coughed violently, and then lay on his back on the ground.

"Little Lord--"

The seemingly tight paper doors in the surrounding corridors slammed open, and a group of servants in gray-striped black Japanese dresses rushed up.Victor didn't move.He watched the white figure gradually surrounded by the crowd in a daze, and a smile appeared on the corner of his mouth.

Yuuri, you are so beautiful.