Chapter Text
December 7th, 2017 - Nagoya, Japan
Yuri Plisetsky is extremely aware of the cameras currently trained on him in the green room, which is why he keeps his face neutral even as the world crumbles around him.
“Yuri Katsuki has earned in the free skate: 183.19 points. His total score is 286.51 points, and he is currently in first place.”
The Japanese audience goes wild, jubilant for a home victory at this season’s Grand Prix Final. In the Kiss and Cry, Victor hugs Katsudon, who has collapsed against him in relief.
Yuri seethes upon seeing the final scores projected onto the screen. Katsudon had snatched the win from him by half a point, ruining not only his defense of the Grand Prix Final title, but also his chance for this season’s grand slam.
“Chin up, Yuri,” Otabek says from where he’s seated next to him, now in bronze medal position. He pats Yuri on the shoulder. “Run it back at Europeans.”
“I’m going to flatten Victor like a blini at Europeans,” Yuri says, furious. Victor had skipped the Grand Prix Series again this season to focus on coaching Katsudon, robbing Yuri of any opportunity to beat him so far. “And at Nationals, just you watch.”
He won’t have the opportunity to face Katsudon again until the Olympics in February though. A weird pit in his stomach forms at the realization.
“That’s the spirit,” Otabek says.
February 12, 2018 - PyeongChang, South Korea
“It’s…JJ-style!”
In the Kiss and Cry, the rest of Team Canada joins JJ in his signature pose. Yuri has learned, against his will, that the team event at the Olympics consists of not only skating, but also obnoxious displays of patriotism and camaraderie. JJ himself is wearing a moose hat.
From his own team’s booth by the side of the rink, Yuri fantasizes about ripping JJ’s fingers off of his hands so he can never do that stupid move again. Rather than doing that and likely getting himself banned from the sport, he instead settles for thinking about the team gold medal he’s about to win. Surely between both Victor’s first-place performance in the short program and what Yuri has just done here for the free skate, it’ll be a slam dunk victory.
So maybe he’d placed second at Russian Nationals behind Victor, followed by a humiliating third at the European Championships—that time behind both Victor and Emil Nekola of the Czech Republic, of all people. All of that was just warmup for the Olympics, and winning the team event now will get him out of whatever funk he’s found himself in—
“Team Canada is currently in first place!”
Yuri’s jaw drops in disbelief. “No way,” he says, horrified.
He knows his own skate here wasn’t perfect, but it can’t have been so bad that he lost to JJ, of all people. But sure enough, when he looks at the scores on the jumbotron it shows JJ at the top of the standings. Not by much, but the placement is all that matters for the team event.
There’s still the ladies’ and ice dance segments of the team event left to go, and Yuri watches, hoping against hope, even as the rest of the Canadian skaters solidify their team’s position in first place. That hope lasts all the way until he’s climbing onto the second step of the podium with his own teammates for the flower ceremony.
Apparently he doesn’t even get the dignity of receiving a medal right now, just a plush version of the Olympic mascot. Yuri glares at the stuffed white tiger in his hands. Its miniature silver-accented hat and embroidered smile feels particularly mocking as he’s subjected to the Canadian anthem blaring over the arena speakers.
After the ceremony is over Yuri grits his teeth through the requisite photos, and then makes his way out of the rink as soon as he can. He stalks out of the arena and almost immediately runs straight into Katsudon.
“Congratulations, Yurio!” Katsudon exclaims. He makes an aborted movement, as though he’d been about to go for a hug before stopping himself.
“For what? We lost,” Yuri says.
“Lost?” Katsudon repeats. “Sure, it’s silver, but it’s still an Olympic medal!”
“The team event barely counts,” Yuri says. Considering that the Japanese team had placed fifth, he’s not even sure why Katsudon is trying to make a big deal of it. He holds up the plush mascot derisively. “I won’t even get the real medal until later tonight.”
“I thought you liked tigers?” Katsudon teases. “Sorry, sorry. But it looks pretty cute.”
“You can have it, then,” Yuri says, tossing it at him.
Katsudon fumbles but catches it, and then gapes at him. “What? No, I can’t do that.”
He tries to give it back but Yuri pushes it away. “Just take it already,” he grumbles.
Yuri can tell from the look on Katsudon’s face that he’s still not entirely convinced, but he must read Yuri’s mood because he doesn’t give any further protest.
“Well, thank you,” Katsudon says. “And I hope we both do well in the individual event next week!”
February 16, 2018 - PyeongChang, South Korea
The arena is dead silent as Yuri waits for his scores. He closes his eyes, steeling himself against what he’s about to hear.
“In the short program, Yuri Plisetsky has earned 82.27 points. He is currently in sixteenth place.”
“Fuck,” Yuri says.