CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FIFTY EIGHT
"The score for Michele Crispino...186.58, bringing his total to 272.89. Skater Michele is currently in first place."
"Maybe you'll make it to the final this time after all, Mickey!" Sara cheered, hugging her twin in the kiss and cry, "You keep scoring better every year!"
"As long as you keep believing in me, I can do anything!"
Yuri clapped nervously from where he was watching in the participants' waiting area, blade-guards set onto the railing in front of him casually. He turned his head a little to see Otabek and Yurio at rink-side, with older of the two waiting to get called out onto the ice.
Otabek's the one to beat. Yuri thought to himself, His SP score was what I wanted for myself... But if he does really well here with the Free Skate, too, I might not be able to catch up...
He couldn't stop his mind from echoing Viktor's words from the day before, revealing the appalling score he'd received that afternoon.
73.12...
The young skater crossed his arms tightly over his chest, looking at his knees where they were pressed together in front of him.
If he and I both got the exact same FS scores as we did at last year's Final...I could narrowly beat him and still get Gold... But I had more competition experience with my YoI program by then than I do with Heroes right now...and YoI didn't need radical changes made right after doing it the first time...
"Next on the ice, representing Kazakhstan...Otabek Altin."
Yuri clapped dutifully, then brought his hands up to cup around his mouth, "Otabek! Davaaaai!"
The dark-eyed skater raised his hand in a casual wave and nodded in his direction, then turned back to the blonde in front of him. They spoke some words that no one else could hear, bumped fists, and then parted ways. The skater went out to make a few lazy laps around the center of the rink, giving Yurio time to find a seat in the stands.
The younger teen quickly ascended through the prep area and came back out in the waiting box, finding a seat next to his Japanese counterpart, "You sure you want to watch?" He wondered carefully.
Yuri nodded, getting his hug before the teen sat down, "You and Otabek helped me out a lot yesterday, and you didn't even have to...the least I can do is watch."
"Where's Viktor?"
"Not sure. I lost him in the prep area somewhere a few minutes ago." He answered, "If he doesn't pop up by the time Otabek's done, I'll probably text hi-" He stopped, eyes going wide suddenly, "Oh no."
"Oh no?"
"He's probably looking at videos of last night!" Yuri cringed, sinking into his seat, "I took off right after I told him not to look!" He grabbed the arm-rests of his seat and was about to push off, but just as quickly, he felt Yurio's arm go straight across his lap and grab the arm-rest on the opposite side, effectively blocking his path upright. Brown eyes turned in confusion, "...What are you...?"
"Stay where you are, Katsudon." The blonde said firmly, keeping his hand clamped around the arm-rest, "Focus on yourself for now. You have a chance to make up for your appalling performance yesterday...don't screw it up by worrying about something you can't change."
"But-"
"If he was already trying to look up videos of last night and you had to stop him, then that cat's already out of the bag and there's nothing you can do about it." The teen continued, "Besides, he looked fine when he was chasing you. That means he knew about the videos' existing beforehand. Don't fall into the same trap as you did when you were living St. Petersburg, worrying about shit on someone else's behalf."
Yuri blinked at him, but allowed himself to let go of the arm-rests and sank back into his seat.
"Still doesn't change the fact that you're bawling over someone else's problems."
"There's no sense worrying about it until there's something to worry about."
Yurio's words from the day of the funeral were as fresh in that moment as they were when they were first spoken, and they seemed to ring true even so long after. However, the nagging fact that Viktor had come back from that funeral with a bloodied eye seemed to vindicate his worries at the time...and Yuri couldn't help but think that something would happen that would justify his worries a second time. The only thing that stopped him from trying to get up as Yurio took his hand back was the fact that Viktor had seemed to think the event was funny.
"Maybe you're right..."
Otabek was finally taking his place in the center of the rink, noted by the sudden rise in cheering from the crowds.
His outfit was as far removed from the one featured in his Short Program as it possibly could be, going from the Aristocracy of the European Renaissance to the Shield Wall of Viking Norway. He wore a dark grey-green tunic with a studded leather belt around his waist, the long end of it hanging off his right hip. Over his shoulders was a faux wolf pelt, which hung half-way down his back, accented by two faux grey-fox tails. Under the sleeves of the tunic, which ended at the elbow, looked like the hint of a coat of chainmail, and under that was a dark grey shirt that went to the wrists. Baggy dark-colored pants followed, and from knee to skate-cover, what looked like leather, fur-lined boots.
['Völuspá' - Wardruna]
The music started calmly enough, with the single, hum-chanting voice of a man and the strings of a Klaviklyre. Otabek moved slowly in time with it, bringing one arm up to flow with the tone of the hum, scratching across the ice in a serpentine pattern. He looped back around when the voice paused, bringing up his second arm as the hum-chant began again. He slid towards the far end of the rink, twisting into an outside Spread-Eagle, and just as the sound of a thunderous drum reverberated into the rafters, he vaulted into a triple Axel.
BOOM...BOOM...BOOM-BOOM-BOOM
BOOM...BOOM-BOOM-BOOM-BOOM
Yurio seemed really entranced by the thrum of the music, drawn into the ritualistic sound like a moth to flame. The pounding of the drums went on like the welcome call to the Old Gods themselves.
Yuri felt it in his chest; each heavy beat moving through him like it could change the very pattern of his heartbeat. It shook the foundations of the building.
Quad Toe-Loop, half Loop, triple Salchow.
Below the arena, Viktor could feel the drum-beat as well, but he was still too busy looking for his husband to go out and watch the show. It suddenly occurred to him though that that's probably what Yuri himself was doing, and there was only really one place where another competitor would be able to go to watch other skaters.
"Coach Viktor!"
The Russian twitched.
"Coach Viktor, a word!"
He turned his head and saw a small mob of event-reporters coming right after him. He deadpanned them at first, wanting to move on, but running off when he'd just been standing or wandering aimlessly around for the last several minutes wouldn't really fly, and he knew it. He sighed to himself, put on his mask, and turned to face the group.
"Is Yuri somewhere close by as well? Can we get a word with him, too, before he goes up?" One of the reporters asked, holding out the mic towards the Russian.
"He took off somewhere a couple minutes ago. I was looking for him." Viktor answered, "I'm sure he's somewhere around here."
"Is he nervous about this afternoon?"
"Probably, but he was in a good mood when we got here." He went on, "We went to one of the local skating rinks to practice since he missed out earlier this morning."
The war-drums were thundering away behind him, making the whole interview feel more like a pre-battle strategy check. But Viktor was a showman and he did his best despite it all.
Flying sit-spin, change of foot into a donut-spin, rising up into a half-Biellmann spin before letting the leg go to finish in a fast scratch-spin.
"That'll easily be a Level 4 move for Skater Otabek. His technique has really improved since last year." Morooka observed.
"I agree." His co-caster, Oda, said to his right, "The music is a good choice for him; strong and steady like a war-march. I can't help but feel that sometime during the off-season, he must've spent a lot of time working out the artistic merit of his choreography. He isn't as stiff anymore."
"Yes, that's quite a big change." Morooka went on, "He's evolved into some new kind of skating beast this year, just as he had before. I almost can't wait to see what he does next year!"
"Yuri was able to land all his quads during an impromptu performance, and he got a real confidence boost from the people who were at the rink watching." Viktor continued, the chanting dying off a little bit in the stadium, "I think today will be really interesting. He's pretty pumped."
"So where is he then? You said he took off...Skater Yuri doesn't usually do that unless he's upset about something."
"That's true!" The Russian huffed a weak laugh, "I was teasing him earlier. He ran off laughing this time. I'm sure he's with Yuri Plisetsky somewhere, probably watching Otabek right now. I was trying to catch up, but I got distracted."
Quad Loop.
"Skater Otabek has added the quad Loop to his repertoire this season, and increased the difficulty of his Free Program from two quads to three." Morooka described, "For a 20 year old, he's doing remarkably well."
The path ahead of me was never guaranteed to be an easy one. Otabek thought, pressing on through a step-sequence, But the first virtue in a soldier is endurance of fatigue; courage is the only second virtue. If I'm to be a soldier, I must press on, no matter the challenge.
The step-sequence ended with a cantilever around the short end of the rink, one hand dragging across the ice as the other reached for the rafters.
"Would you say that you took Skater Yuri's SP score yesterday better or worse than he did?" One of the reporters asked suddenly, catching Viktor off guard a little.
"Not sure what you mean." He answered innocently, "We were both upset about it."
There were a few glances back and forth through the media group, none of them quite sure how to press on.
"You want to ask about my drunken melt-down at the Ritz-Carlton." Viktor asked for them, "Right?"
"Yes."
"I forget!" The Russian said, toying with them as he shrugged, "I went to have some fun with Yuri's ballet teacher while he was out with others, and I got a little bit tipsy. The rest is a blur. Sorry!" He smiled innocently.
The reporters all looked at one another again, confused.
Quad Salchow; bonus points for being in the second half the Free Skate.
"I'm afraid that's really all I can say about the matter. Everyone should focus on giving Yuri the support he needs to finish out today's event."
"So you think he can still...overcome the Short Program?" Someone asked, the emphasis on 'overcome' being a little strange to the coach.
"Sure." Viktor said, tilting his head a little, "Yuri's the Comeback King. If anyone can do it, he can. That's enough for now though...it sounds like Otabek's about done and I need to go find my skater."
The music had gone from chanting and drum-beats to a quick flurry of clattering, and Otabek's finale was just as quick-paced; quad-rotation forward-outside twizzle, exiting and immediately vaulting into a butterfly kick, using the momentum to go into his final sit-spin sequence. As he rose, he hopped, carrying on into a standard camel spin before ending it on a quick scratch-spin. The music ended on the exact moment he dug his toe-pick into the ice and stopped moving altogether.
The audience lagged a bit, but then burst into applause, cheering and screaming for the former dark-horse skater. Once known as little more than 'forgettable,' Otabek was now a leading contender for the Gold...not just at Cup of China, but the Grand Prix Final as well. His scores were comparable to all the other known guaranteed finalists. All that need be known now was whether he could keep his rank or if he'd lose it at the last second.
He went with his coach to the kiss and cry carrying three different Ted plushes, and one bouquet of flowers just to be safe. Yurio and Yuri watched anxiously from their vantage, though Yuri was sweating bullets over it.
"The score for Otabek Altin..."
Yuri grabbed the blonde's wrist and clamped down like a vice.
"Ow, hey! Let go!"
The older skater's eyes were clenched shut.
"...186.27...bringing his total score to 294.94. He is currently in first place."
"Incredible!" Morooka cheered, "It's only his second competition of the season, and yet Skater Otabek just outdid his score from last year's Grand Prix Final!"
Yurio was trying to unclamp his older counterpart's fingers from around his wrist, but they were tight like tree roots. Suddenly, Yuri let go on his own, and the teen went flying from the strength of his own attempts to get free, landing a few feet away in the aisle. Looking up from the floor, he angrily pulled his hoodie up over his head where it had been displaced in the impact, "IDIOT. WHAT WAS THAT FOR?"
"I...I still have a chance..."
"Haaaaah?!"
"I STILL HAVE A CHANCE." Yuri was up out of his seat, skate-guards thunking against the ground. He reached down, grabbed the Russian Punk by his shoulders to hoist him off the ground, hugged him tightly, kissed him on the cheek, and then ran off again towards the under-arena halls, "I STILL HAVE A CHANCE!" Yuri yelled again, his voice trailing as he vanished, "VIKTOOORRRRR!"
The Russian in question was still trying to get away from the media, but his ears twitched to hear Yuri yelling his name from somewhere further away. He got up onto his toes to look around, but just as he spotted the black-haired skater coming, Yuri was already less than 10 feet away.
And then he was zero feet away.
"I STILL HAVE A CHANCE! IT'S NOT HOPELESS! I CAN STILL WIN GOLD!" He was yelling, literally jumping through the crowd to lunge at his partner, clinging desperately as the man tried to keep on his feet, "Otabek didn't break 300! I still can!"
"Whoa, calm down." Viktor laughed, his eyes still spinning from the impact. He returned the cling with his arms around his partner's back, and pulled up so he wouldn't continue sliding down. Cameras were flashing at them, "What'd he score?"
"295! I can still beat that! It's a long-shot but I can do it!"
"...You'd have to score as high as you did at Worlds to break 300..."
"I CAN DO IT."
Viktor saw the determination in his husband's eyes, and the confidence was contagious, "You can do it!"