CHAPTER TWO HUNDRED NINETY SIX
"Russian Skater Yuri Plisetsky is looking rather dour since getting his score. Despite setting a new personal best in the Free Skate, Japan's Yuri Nikiforov still holds the lead by a slim margin, and Khazakstan's Otabek Altin and Russian team-mate Viktor Nikiforov have yet to take the ice. It's coming down to the wire for the Men's Event...!"
With Otabek pulling his blade-guards off, standing next to the rink door, the reality of the competition's ultimate conclusion was drawing near, and weighed heavily. Waiting by the door to the Players Club, Yurio watched nervously. The scoreboard was etched into his mind...and the likely final outcome was certain...yet uncertain at the same time.
The final rankings will be decided by single-digits. Even if Otabek scores as well as he did at Cup of China, it wouldn't be enough to knock me off 2nd place, but Viktor is still yet to skate. My best shot is for Bronze right now, even counting for the possibility that Viktor does poorly.
He brought one hand up, fingers curling over his mouth and just under his nose as he thought on.
Bronze isn't really so bad... It's only my second year in Seniors, at any rate. Even Viktor didn't start his all-events winning streak until he was in his 20s.
"On the ice, representing Khazakstan...Otabek...Altin!"
The dark-horse skater moved into the rink to quite the respectable fanfare, though it was obvious that the crowd was still getting used to the athlete. Yurio stepped closer to the rink at that point, waiting in the same place where Yuri had done for himself prior to his own show. He looked back over his shoulder to where he knew Mari and Minako were sitting just above and beyond the Club doorway, but Mikhail hadn't rejoined them there yet either.
That guy's got maybe 30 minutes left before the end of the medaling ceremony to get over himself and come back. I get that he's salty about Okukawa calling things off, but for all intents and purposes, all she really did was give a ring back. You'd think she said she wasn't coming back with us to Russia, too, and for Mikhail not to come back to Japan at all.
"It's all so tightly packed." The teen heard Yuri saying, coming up behind him suddenly, "Assuming Viktor scores as well as he has so far this season...the way things are going, the rest of us will be lining up within less than 10 points. It's really hard to know who's going to be on the podium tonight."
"Other than him and you." Yurio corrected, "Your spot on the podium is guaranteed now."
"Would I be horrible for saying I hope Otabek scores less than you?" The older skater gave a nervous smile, "That challenge Viktor made way back in Bordeaux...all three of us need to be on the podium at the end so we can do the Team Skate in the Exhibition tomorrow."
"I doubt he'd really hold to that." The teen shrugged, setting his fingers on the rink wall as he spotted the Khazak starting to come back around, "It's only $300 to get into the Exhibition if you don't medal. If Otabek managed to bump me off, Viktor would sooner pay my fee than let a Team Exhibition opportunity go by, especially given how people are talking about it on SMS again now."
"Yeah..." Yuri agreed, leaning onto his elbows next to the Tiger, "Wouldn't that be a trick if Otabek managed to squeak into that 2-point gap between you and I though?" Yuri laughed, "Barely managing to steal Bronze from you by a single point."
"Keep talking like that and I'll ask my fanclub to start throwing things onto the rink before he's done."
The older skater just smirked sweetly at that, and turned his head to the sound of skates coming up on the ice.
Otabek's fluffy faux-fur trim bristled in the crisp air, and the man himself looked as stony as ever. He listened to a few barely-audible words from the slender, older, darker-skinned man who claimed to be his coach, nodded, and then turned to the pair of competitors waiting nearby.
"Nervous?" Yurio wondered smugly, trying not to look anxious himself.
"No."
The Russian Punk looked somewhat deflated at the rather-direct answer.
Yuri just smiled on, "I think he plans on joining the 300-club."
"Quiet, you."
"He's right." Otabek explained, "I've analyzed the other programs and made adjustments to my own. If I want to get on the podium, I have to do as well as I did at Four Continents, at least. Harder jumps, no mistakes."
Despite his best efforts, the teen was already starting to sweat bullets, and he side-eyed the man next to him, noting awkwardly how calm he was, "You look particularly zen for once."
"I don't think I could've done better, considering the circumstances." Yuri answered simply, "No matter what happens, I'm happy with how things turned out. I can do better next year. I won't let my guard down again and get hurt." He turned his gaze towards the competitor in the rink, and reached a hand out, fingers curled under his palm, "Davai, Otabek."
"Davai." Yurio agreed, holding a loose fist up as well.
The Khazak nodded and bumped his own knuckles against the both of theirs before finally turning to move into the center of the arena, settling his hands onto his hips. He closed his eyes for a moment and sought for the same zen the young Russian had just mentioned, taking in the smell of the air, the feel of the breeze as he moved across the ice, the sound of his blades scratching at it as he slid along. When he found himself in his zone, he side-braked and set a toe-pick down...and waited for his music to begin.
['Völuspá' - Wardruna]
The hum-chant of a man's voice echoed overhead in harmony with the strings of a Klaviklyre, and Otabek slowly raised one arm up, moving backwards on his blades in a half-figure-8. He twisted and turned, moving swiftly around the short end of the rink, gliding with the smooth ease of a Nordic wind. When the voice of the chant quieted, replaced by the chorus of background vocalists and some drums, he brought his second arm up to join the first, swaying them like blades of grass and starting his program's first required element.
"Not many skaters open their programs with a step sequence, but this music is a slow-burn, which lends itself to a gradual increase in difficulty as it progresses." Morooka was commenting.
"Kind of reminds me of Skater Viktor's Short Program from Worlds last season." Oda added, "It was a full minute into that show before we saw the first jump."
When the main voice returned to the chant, turning the song from a high-mountain hymn to a full-blown war-chant, Otabek slid backward and to the side, moving through an outside spread-eagle to set up for his first vault. On the end of the curve, he shifted his weight to the outside of his left skate, kicked the right back...and thrust it forward. Three and a half revolutions, and he landed the triple Axel, gliding off for the next move.
BOOM...BOOM...BOOM-BOOM-BOOM
BOOM...BOOM-BOOM-BOOM-BOOM
"This is such a departure from the usual kind of music we hear at events." Yuri commented, watching closely, "I wonder why he picked it?"
"He was never able to figure out ballet," Yurio answered, "So he considers competitions like this to be a battlefield."
Quad Loop, single Loop, triple Salchow.
"...Oh, well, there's the first sign that he's taking this war seriously." The older skater mused, "That started as a Toe-loop last time. He's definitely gunning it for higher points. He just gained 2 for switching up that jump."
Otabek threw himself into a death-drop for the start of his combination-spin; standard sit formation at first with one leg extended and his arms close to his chest, but then morphed as he reached for one blade to pull it inward for the donut variant. He rose up then, moving his grip on the blade from the front to behind himself, holding it up as he lifted his free arm for the camel-spin-like half-Biellmann, then letting it go to finish out the maneuver with a fast scratch-spin.
"Yuuurriiii-kōōchiiii~!" Viktor's voice suddenly called, barely audible over the song from inside the Players Club, "Koko ni kite kudasaaaaai~!"
Yurio gawked back behind them to stare at the older Russian, and the two silver teens who'd been following him since his own skate, "What'd he say?"
"'Come over here, please.'" Yuri laughed, "Though his inflection was weird." He pushed up off his elbows and straightened the bottom of his team jacket, "Wish I could watch the rest, but I guess I should pretend I'm a coach for a bit."
Triple Lutz, triple Toe-loop.
"...Do you really teach him anything?" The blonde wondered dubiously, twisting his shoulders to face the ice even if he still had his head turned.
"Nah...it's an honorary thing." The older skater answered, patting the teen's back twice lightly as he stepped off, "But he likes it when I play along. Jaa, mata." He raised that same hand in a half-wave as he moved off, skate-guards klunk'ing along from the concrete of rink-side to the hardwood of the lounge.
Yurio turned his eyes back to the ice just in time for the solitary quad Loop, and again looked as nervous as before.
Another quad Loop... Is the Flip really the only thing I can do now that Otabek can't? He only just barely started doing the Loop this season and now he's probably getting 2+ GOE on it... No wonder he was able to score Silver at Worlds 3 years back...
The older skater pushed into a second step-sequence, giving himself half a moment to regain some of his jump-stamina.
Yuri finally returned to his partner's side, "Nan de? Subete daijoubu desu ka?"
"Genki da yo~!" Viktor answered, moving quickly around to stand behind the man and slouch over Yuri's shoulders, pawing at the three different badges hanging around his neck. Lifting one to look at its upside-down face, he discarded it and found another, "No...no...this one's mine...oh, here it is."
"Nani shiteru no...?" The younger skater wondered nervously.
The silver legend held up one of the badges with his husband's photo on it, but then turned it to hold it at the length of its lanyard towards his two cousins, "See? Coach!"
The two pairs of grey-green eyes examined it, "But he's younger than you are." They both pointed out, "How is he your coach? Plus, you're already his coach!"
Yuri just grimaced, even as his spouse still clung to his back like Velcro.
"It's more like a ceremonial position." Vikto answered, letting the badge go to rejoin the others, and curled his arms around his husband's small frame, "Yakov was always my coach before, but since I live in Japan now, I had to change things over."
"Oh, the guy that's our Yuri's coach?" Viktoria wondered, reaching up for the white stick of her sucker candy and biting the last sliver of blue from the end of it, "He was yours, too?"
"Da. He sometimes steps in to help me out still, like at NHK, but mostly it's my Yuri now." The Russian rubbed his cheek affectionately against his partner's head, "For the paperwork and moral support, mostly."
They all turned their heads when the audience started roaring again, looking at the televisions for what was being announced as a quad Salchow. Otabek's show was nearly done.
"...It's almost time, Viktor." Yuri commented, quieter than the regular conversation, "Junbi dekita?"
"Mh."
"Everyone around here speaks languages we don't understand." Nikki lamented with a heavy sigh, "Half the stuff the announcers say about the skating itself sounds like a foreign language, too."
"You get used to it." Yuri explained, reaching up his left hand to settle it gently over the side of his husband's neck where the man was still nuzzling the side of his head, "Most of the jumps are named after people who pioneered them, though, so that's why they have weird-sounding labels." He turned towards his partner and spoke quietly into his ear, "You should get out of your track suit. You never took your skates off after the warm-up so it'll take longer than normal."
"Haaai~"
The two young teens watched as their cousin reluctantly pulled off his not-really-a-coach, leaving him with a peck of a kiss in his favorite place under one ear, and stepped back a few paces to flop down into a nearby couch. One boot came over a knee and he started pulling at the laces.
Otabek was going into the last element of his program, the flying sit spin. Yuri's eyes were on the television, a neutral look on his face.
"What do you think he's going to score?" Nikki wondered, "Is it going to be high?"
"Otabek is always surprising people with how well he does." He answered, turning away from it to go down on a knee before his spouse and help speed things up by undoing the laces on the other skate, "If he doesn't break 300, he'll get close."
"Is that pretty normal? To score around 300?"
Yuri smiled, but looked back at her and shook his head, "No...far from it. This is pretty unusual. But...with the way the Grand Prix works, you're only seeing the top 6 skaters from the entire season so far, so you'll usually see scores at least higher than 270."
"Unless someone does shockingly bad." Viktor mused, pulling his ankle off his knee and setting it down next to his other boot, leaning down with a sultry look on his face. One finger came under his partner's chin as he looked into those hazel eyes, "Then they might score as low as 235."
"...But...you scored higher than that in just your Free Skate last weekend..." Nikki pointed out, a look on her face like she didn't think that total score was possible, "...If I remember right anyway."
Yuri just looked anxious, but didn't move from where he knelt, "...No, you're right." He said, speaking to the youngest teen even as he looked straight into those crystal hues before him, "But that's why that score was a World record. Most skaters are lucky to see the 250s as it is."
"Was Viktor referring to you just now?" Viktoria asked, a sly look on her face.
Before Yuri could answer though, the audience started howling for Otabek's finale, the air vibrating with excitement.
"Skater Otabek shows us all once again why he's the Hero of Khazakhstan! What an outstanding performance!" Morooka's voice could be heard from the televisions.
The young skater was still waiting for his partner to make a move, but it seemed like the man was waiting for something. Those blue eyes looked on, speaking in place of actual words.
Do you think he beat you just now?
No way. I have the best coach and choreographer in the world.
Will you be upset if I beat you?
Yuri hesitated for a moment, but a certain phrase filtered up from his memory, and he leaned in a bit closer with his eyes half-closed, "...I don't mind losing, if you're the one that wins...because you're the only person in the world that I like being under."
"Wow~!" Viktor chimed excitedly, savoring his quick kiss happily as his husband stood up. Hands quickly went to pulling boots off after that, and with each skate removed, Viktor thumbed at the waistband of his track-suit, pushing them down his legs and away from the yet-unseen-by-everyone costume pants. What became revealed from beneath the black and white team-slacks was a gradient of black to silver, getting lighter above the knees and at the side of each thigh. A few specks of white crystal glimmered just under the edge of the Russian's jacket where the silver was brightest. He quickly rolled the track-suit pants up over his arms though and handed them off to his partner before reaching to get his blades back on again.
The televisions already showed Otabek in the kiss and cry with two different Ted Bear soft-toys in his arms, along with a bouquet of flowers for good measure. Yurio was watching on the toes of his blade-guards, all but chewing on his fingers as his heart raced.
"The score for Otabek Altin..."
Everyone in the Players Club was silent, eyes unblinking as they watched the screens.
"...195.91. He is currently in 2nd place."
"...What." Yuri gaped at the screen, one eye pinched half-closed in a disbelieving grimace. Half a second later, he felt a jab against his ribs, but when he looked down, thinking someone had poked him from behind...he saw a whole leg, with a blade-guard pressed against him. That leg was attached to a certain angry bean.
"YOU DON'T GET TO TALK ABOUT SCORES BEFORE A SHOW EVER AGAIN." Yurio barked, "EVER."
Viktor glanced up mid-lace-tying with a confused look on his face, mostly for the fact that the Russian Punk's flying-spinning-jump-kick from across the room hadn't budged his husband even slightly. Save for the slight kink in the man's posture where the assault had pushed his hip out and tilted his upper body some, Yuri hadn't moved. Viktor smiled then though, "Oh, did Yuri tell Otabek what to score, too?"
Yurio was incensed, "HE JOKED THAT OTABEK WOULD SCORE BETWEEN HIM AND ME AND I'D GET BUMPED OFF THE PODIUM BY LESS THAN A POINT WHILE HE KEEPS HIS OWN SPOT."
"But you're still in 3rd place..."
"YOU STILL HAVEN'T SKATED YET, IDI-mphfr!"
Yuri reached out over that leg and had a hand over the teen's mouth so fast.
"Wow~!"
KAZ - Otabek ALTIN - 195.91 [NPB] - 304.28 [NPB] [2nd]
The audience was cheering with excitement still, but the mood in the Players Club was a mix of apprehension and disappointment, save for the two Nikiforovs. They stood in somber, confident silence with one another as Viktor rose back up to his full height, looking at one another for a moment before lacing their fingers together as they turned and started heading for rink-side.
"Skater Otabek lands a new personal best for both the Free Skate and his final score! He's going home a legend in his own right this year! But we still have our last skater for the Men's Singles event...five-time World Champion, Russian skater, Viktor Nikiforov. He took last year's Grand Prix off to play coach to then-Yuri Katsuki, that event's Silver medalist. Can Skater Yuri hold onto his Gold or will it get swiped right out from under him again like last year? Skater Viktor is not one to pull punches! The eyes of all of Russia, and the World, are on him tonight!"
The adulation hit a different tone once the pair stepped into the light of the arena. Otabek was already walking their way, and gave a nod before passing through to the lounge area, leaving the duo at rink-side alone.
Yuri drew in a breath, "...This is it. The end of this crazy Grand Prix."
"Five weeks straight of competition...the ups and downs..."
"The laughs and the tears." Yuri added, "Feels like forever, really." He swallowed nervously, but then gave his husband's hand a gentle squeeze before turning to face him again, "I can't wait to see the look on everyone's faces when they realize you're doing something new for tonight. I bet they're all expecting a repeat of last weekend."
"They can play reruns." Viktor answered, "I never want to feel that way again."
The younger skater nodded in easy agreement, and moved to take his partner's other hand, weaving them both together as he brought both pairs up between them. He looked at their fingers for a moment, quietly drawing in another anxious breath as he lifted his face.
"...Ah, Yuri...nakanaide..."
"Eh?" He blinked in confusion, only to realize he had tears on his lashes. He looked concerned for a moment, but rubbed his eyes on the side of his shoulder, "I don't...know why I'm crying..."
Viktor breathed a quiet laugh, smiling fondly at his partner, "It's been a long road. Whatever happens, this skate is for us...we win Gold together with it."
The younger man snuffled through a sad-happy laugh, and leaned his face down to kiss his husband's ring, glancing back just in time to see the Russian doing the same thing with his own on the other hand. Yuri couldn't help himself then, bursting into tears and laughter all at once, pulling his hands free to reach them over his spouse's shoulders and hug him, sobbing against the man's neck as arms went around him as well. He felt warmth and wet against his own neck where Viktor was crying, too. They held there for a while, the cheers of the audience roaring all around them like waves breaking against shore.
"Vitya-"
The pair finally looked up and behind themselves, seeing Yakov there, nudging his head out towards the ice like they were taking up too much time.
Viktor smiled though and turned back, nosing his husband adoringly before leaning in closer to steal his last kiss, much to the excitement of the crowd. Blue eyes slowly opened as he pulled away, "Stammi vicino."
"Ora sono pronto."
The team-jacket finally came away, and Yuri took it, throwing it over his own shoulders as he watched his husband go out onto the ice for the final skate of the event.
.
.
.
Yuri-kōchi, koko ni kite kudasai = Coach Yuri, please come here.
Jaa, mata = See you later
Nan de? Subete daijobu desu ka? = What is it? Everything okay?
Genki da yo! = It's fine!
Nani shiteru no? = What are you doing?
Junbi dekita? = Are you ready?
Hai = Yes
Nakanaide = Don't cry
Stammi vicino = Stay close to me
Ora sono pronto = I'm ready