Exposition~ they're not mine. But they've become a part of me.

They hit brutally with the sound of thunder. The audience gave a collective gasp. The other competitors turned their heads making large loops to avoid the fallen skaters.

"There's been a collision on the ice. Yuri Plisetsky and Katsuki Yuuri are down," The female commentator said. Back in Hasetsu, the Katsuki family stood in shock, eyes glued to the TV screen. "They don't seem to be getting up, I really hope it wasn't as bad as it looked."

"Wow… it's really a shame, an injury at this level would be devastating," the male commentator chimed in. On the ice Yuri dared to open his eyes, the impact had knocked the wind right out of him.

"Ah! Yuuri you stupid pig! Watch where you're going!" Yuri barked. He struggled to his elbows a shooting pain echoed through his ribcage. He looked over at the body laying next to him. Yuuri hadn't moved. His eyes were closed. The sound That pork cutlet bowl's head had made when it collided with the ice resonated Yuri's ears. The stadium had gone silent.

"All skaters please exit the ice. I repeat, all skaters please exit the ice," the announcer's voice radiated through the room.

"Yuuri!" Victor shouted, sprinting onto the ice. His coat flapped behind him as he dove onto his knees, kicking ice up behind him as he slid to Yuuri's side. His heart was pounding as he looked at the limp body in front of him. Blood seeped onto the ice, collecting in the cracks beneath Yuuri's head. Don't move him. Don't touch his head. Don't risk his neck. The voice inside Victor's head shouted.

Victor's hands fluttered helplessly, his vision swayed and suddenly he couldn't tell if Yuuri was breathing. He dropped his head on his chest. There. Victor felt the slow rise and fall. He listened to the strong heartbeat letting it ease his nerves.

"Is he…?" Yuri asked, struggling to get a better look.

"Knocked out…" Victor trailed off. "You collided hard. Can you get up? Can you stand?" Victor asked. Yuri looked at him defiantly.

"I'm fine," he snarled. Yuri attempted to get his knees beneath him when a wave of pain made him cry out. Victor looked startled at his outburst. Wrapping his arm around his side Yuri fell back onto the ice in defeat. He couldn't stop the pathetic trembling of his shoulders or even worse the childlike whimper that escaped his lips.

"Stay down Yurio, help's coming." Victor's words were directed at him, but his eyes were locked on Yuuri, his hand wrapped tightly around Yuuri's. Victor's concern flooded his voice, it protruded from his body language, but that concern was recognizably one sided.

Yuri's lungs contracted forcing all his air out. He rolled onto his back trying to catch his breath. Every time he inhaled a dagger was thrown into his side. Even though he was gasping only wisps of oxygen managed to get through. He closed his eyes tightly trying desperately just to breathe. Across the ice, the medical team was on their way with a spine board. Most of them went straight to Katsuki, ready to carry the unconscious skater off the ice.

Victor's hands were unsteady as he watched two medical trainers carefully load Yuuri's limp body onto the spine board. The second Yuuri's head was secured it was a race out of the rink. Victor looked over his shoulder and saw a medical assistant trying to coax Yuri up off the ice. He was able to pull Yuri to his feet. The young skater was clearly unsteady. The medical assistant attempted to offer assistance but Yuri pushed away from him, coasting toward the gate. His head felt dizzy, his side was burning and his right calf refused to accept any weight. Yakov was waiting at the gate, his hand was outstretched. He almost didn't make it, tripping over the small step off the ice. Yakov prevented him from falling, pulling his student to his side. Reporters and Cameras swarmed them.

"Will Yuuri and Yuri be able to compete?"

"What does this mean for the upcoming finals?"

"Who is responsible for the accident?"

"Will the skaters be hospitalized?"

"Yuri Plisetsky, what exactly happened out there?" Microphones and cameras were forced into Yuri's face. The young skater hung his head, his hair blocking the flashing lights.

"Out of the way! Get out of my way!" Coach Yakov pushed past the press, dragging Yuri through the chaos. A reporter was pushed aside roughly, he fell against the wall with daggers for eyes.

"Yuri…" Lilia appeared. She supported his other side, being gentle with his aching ribcage. "Let's go, get him out of this crowd."

Yuri was escorted to the small trainer's room. Yuuri was awake by the time he arrived, Victor glued to his side. The head trainer was already giving him an exam. Waiting on the other side of the room Yuri was shivering, teeth chattering, his warmup jacket was soaked through with ice cold water. Minutes of discomfort had passed. Yakov had already stripped off his skates and Lilia was barking questions at him.

"How are your knees? Did you twist an ankle?" Yuri rolled his eyes,

"let me off this stupid thing," he complained, trying to climb off the treatment table.

"Yuri don't you dare," Yakov threatened.

"I'm fine Yakov." Yuri hopped down clumsily to his feet. Two trainer assistances stood idle as if their only job was to tackle him if he did anything stupid. "Quit hovering already!" He demanded.

On the other side of the room, the head trainer was shining a penlight into Yuuri's eyes. The Japanese skater looked alright, a bit dazed it anything. Victor stood by his side worry etched in his face. The trainer settled back on his heels a relaxed grin on his face.

"Concussion for sure but nothing to be too concerned about. The head laceration isn't deep if the bleeding stops in the next half hour it won't need stitches." He thumped Yuuri's shoulder, "you got lucky kid, could have been a lot worse." It was clear Yuuri didn't feel lucky, though. He hung his head, victor laid a hand reassuringly on his shoulder.

"Don't worry Yuuri, there's still time to qualify at the next competition." Yuri's eyes widened, the piggy wasn't going to compete? After all the work I put in my program, all the hours on the ice, all for nothing, Yuri thought. His hands closed into fists at his sides. The head trainer crossed the room.

"You're on your feet. That's a good sign." Yuri scowled at him, crossing his arms over his chest. "Let's take a look, see what we're dealing with."

A glare from Yakov and Yuri was stripping out of his jacket. The trainer pulled up a stool and began examining Yuri's bare chest. The whole left side of his ribcage had become a sickening shade of red. Streaks of purple highlighted specific ribs. The trainer's eyebrows knit together. "Are you sure you don't want to sit down?" Yuri shook his head once, his movements were sharp, his breathing almost nonexistent. The trainer prodded the bruises. Yuri flinched. His hand gripped the edge of the table, knuckles white. He caught Yuuri staring wide-eyed.

"What are you looking at pig?" He roared.

"I-uh…" Yuuri stammered. "You're bleeding."

Yuri looked down to see the bottom of his right pant leg turning crimson. The trainer made Yuri sit as he bandaged the deep gouge in his right calf.

"Were you planning on mentioning you'd been cut?" the trainer asked. Yuri stared forward hard-faced. Stupid Katsudon must have stuck me with his toe pick, Yuri thought bitterly.

"I hadn't realized." The trainer looked at him skeptically,

"Is there anything else you've failed to mention? A headache, joint pain, anything?"

Yuri shook his head. In truth, everything was aching. His head was spinning and he was sure there was a bump forming behind his right ear. His elbows and palms were scrapped and his back was throbbing. Of course, he would never admit any of that, especially with Victor and Yuuri sitting across from him. The trainer waited for a response. On receiving nothing, he sighed,

"You're definitely going to need x-rays. Bone bruising down the left side and 2 maybe 3 fractures. Both of you," he said, looking at Yuuri, "should get a once-over at the hospital."

"Not going to happen. Tape me up I have a competition to win," Yuri snarled.

"Not so fast Yura," Yakov started. Yuri held up a hand.

"I've worked too hard to disappoint on my home turf. There's nothing you could do to keep me from skating." Yakov glared daggers.

"This is incredibly irresponsible. Putting yourself at risk because of pride-"

"I can't walk away. If I can stand I can skate. This is all I've been trained to do, I'm not leaving without a win."

"You will not be competing. I'm having them scratch your performance. It's not safe," Yakov said.

"You think I give a damn about safety?! I'd rather throw myself down a flight of stairs then quit because of a few bruises," Yuri paused to catch his breath, his hand pressed to his side, "You're not looking out for me. You're just worried I won't perform well and it will affect your coaching record," Yuri growled.

"Tape him," Lilia said. The trainer looked at them startled.

"No way! Without an x-ray, there's no way of knowing for sure that it's just fractured. If your ribs are fully broken you could puncture a lung."

"Look he's going on the ice whether you like it or not," she said.

Yuri braced against the wall as the tape was wrapped tighter around his torso. He winced, "a little tight don't you think," he ground out.

"Shut up and let the man stabilize your ribs," Yakov said, arms crossed over his chest.

"I want it on the record this is going against medical advice."

"Yeah, yeah, just hurry up will you? I have to get warmed up," Yuri said.

The tape was wrapped so tightly Yuri could hardly breathe. He paced the warmup area trying not to let his limp show. He had his headphones in blasting Agape. Yakov sat off to the side watching Yuri walk through his short program. Spin, combination, quad toe loop- landing on his right leg Yuri stumbled. Yakov shot to his feet,

"Yura!" he put a hand on Yuri's back. Yuri straightened up, his cheeks were flushed. "You don't have to do this. You have nothing to prove." Yuri shook off his hand,

"I tripped. It won't happen when I'm on the ice." Yakov scowled,

"If you go out on that ice it could very well be for the last time," he hissed through a clenched jaw. "You're in no condition to attempt multiple quads. If you injure yourself more that's it, that's the end of your career." Yuri wasn't angry, he wasn't afraid, something bigger was burning deep inside him. He met Yakov's eyes,

"I know I can do this." Yakov closed his eyes and rubbed his temple.

"Don't destroy yourself Yuri, it's not worth it." Yuri was too stubborn, to reckless. If he couldn't convince him with logic, maybe it was time to try a new tactic. Maybe it was time to put in him the fear of God.

"I have too many years experience to take this level of disrespect. After this competition, I will no longer function as your coach." Yuri's eyes widened,

"You're bluffing." Yakov looked at him, his gaze indifferent,

"Best of luck to you, Yuri Plisetsky." Yakov stood up straight. He adjusted his coat and walked out of the room never once looking back.

"Did you see that?" Whispers circled through the room. Every athlete and coach in the vicinity had their eyes on him. "His coach just walked out." Yuri felt a weight settle in his stomach.

"What the hell are you looking at?" he spat. Flipping up his hood he stormed out of the room and into the men's restroom. Stopping in front of the sinks he looked at himself in the mirror. Pull it together Yuri. Yakov doesn't mean it. He'll change his mind. I'll prove him wrong by taking first place.

Once he had steadied his breathing Yuri walked out to the rink. He had just one more stake until it was his turn. Standing on the wall Yuri tried to focus his thoughts. Spin combination into a quad toe loop - no. A quad lutz.

"Yurio?" Yuri turned sharply. Yuuri and Victor were watching him off to the side. Yuuri had a bandage wrapped around his head.

"What?" He asked sharply.

"Why are you doing this?" Yuuri asked, sincere concern on his face.

"I take what I want, no matter the cost."

"Yakov couldn't talk you out of skating then?" Victor asked.

"Yakov's gone," Yuri said.

"What?" Victor said, pushing the hair out of his face.

"He quit twenty minutes ago." Victor and Yuuri looked at each other. Yuri leaned over to stretch his legs trying to seem unbothered. Victor said something into Yuuri's ear and turned to walk out of the building.

"Shouldn't you be at a hospital or something?" Yuri asked.

"I convinced Victor to let me stay until your short program."

"That was stupid. I don't even want you here."

"That's what you want, huh? Just you alone against the world. Well too bad because like it or not you have people that care about you." Yuri was going to make a sly remark when suddenly he was given the two-minute warning. His heart pounded faster by the second. He couldn't even take a deep breath to calm his nerves because of the stupid tape around his chest. He braced against the wall of the rink, no coach, no team, no confidence. All feelings of agape had fled from him. "Hey, are you ok?" Yuuri stepped closer to him. Yuri could feel his legs shaking. Maybe Yakov was right, he thought. He stood completely still, hands gripping the edge tightly. With shaky fingers, he unzipped his jacket. Stepping toward the gate Yuri pushed the hair out of his face. He looked back one last time. Yuuri could see the fear in his eyes, it was all too familiar to his own. Yuri put one foot on the ice, overhead the announcer's voice rang out,

"Up next Russian skater Yuri Plisetsky, skating to In Regards to Love: Agape. His short program was choreographed by Victor Nikiforov."

A.N~ More to come. I hope you were entertained. I'd love to know your thoughts until next time, I can never tell.