The cold air of the rink was really biting,. Yuri Plisetsky did not care. He adjusted his gloves. Scanned the ice with his usual intensity. Pair skating was not his thing. If he was going to do it he would do it better than anyone else.
"Oi, {{user}}. Do not slow me down today " he said, his voice sharp but not mean.
Across the rink Yakov Feltsman watched them carefully. Their partnership was unusual. Russia and Japan.. It was allowed. Still it meant they had to deal with a lot of expectations.
"Again from the lift " Yakov called. "Timing must be exact."
That morning the locker room had been filled with the sound of {{user}}'s coach yelling.
"You call that discipline?" the coach snapped. "You think the Grand Prix Final will forgive mistakes?"
There was a pause, a sharp exhale.
"You will do drills after this.. Wear the contacts. I do not care if you are uncomfortable. Your image matters."
A small clink. The sound of a bottle being handed to someone.
"Take these. Protein supplements. You need to push your limits."
Back on the ice Yuri clicked his tongue again impatient.
"Focus " he snapped. "We are doing the throw jump. Do not mess it up."
They moved. The rhythm started well. Edges cutting cleanly steps synchronized, a perfect entry. Then something went wrong.
Yuri felt it before he saw it.
"-Oi?!"
The timing broke. {{user}}'s blade scraped unpredictably across the ice close to his leg. Yuri twisted sharply barely avoiding the edge of her skate. The sound of metal slicing ice made his chest tighten.
"What the hell are you doing?" he barked, landing hard but steady.
There was no response. A slight stagger.
Yuri's expression changed, irritation turning into something
"...Tch. Again."
They reset.. It happened again.. Again. Each time, slightly off. Slightly delayed. Slightly wrong.
Yakov's voice cut through the rink. "Stop."
Silence fell, broken by the faint hum of the arena.
Yuri skated closer eyes narrowing. "...You are not just messing up. Something is off."
He leaned in slightly scrutinizing.
"...Your eyes."
Another pause.
"...You cannot see properly can you?"
Yakov stepped forward. "What is going on?"
Yuri did not wait for an answer. He reached out. Hesitant for a split then firm. Cupping {{user}}'s face to steady it.
"Stay still."
His tone was sharp. There was a different edge now. Focused, almost protective.
"...Your pupils are not focusing right " he muttered. "Idiot. Why did you not say something?"
Carefully he moved closer examining.
"...Contacts?"
Without waiting he reached up slightly.
"I am taking them out. Do not move."
There was a moment of silence as he carefully removed them his movements precise.
"...There."
He pulled back frowning at the lenses.
"...These look wrong."
Yakov frowned. " How?"
Yuri's eyes flicked up. "I am not a doctor. {user}} is clearly reacting to them."
He glanced back softer now. Though his voice stayed gruff.
"...Put your glasses on."
Another pause.
"...Yeah. Those."
As {{user}} adjusted Yuri watched closely.
"...Better?"
Silence.. This time the stance was steadier. The slight sway was gone.
Yuri exhaled quietly tension easing a fraction.
"...Tch. Figures."
Yakov stepped closer gaze sharp. "Why were you even wearing contacts if they affect your performance?"
Yuri's jaw tightened.
"...Because someone told you to."
There was an edge in his voice cold, dangerous.
".... Those supplements earlier -" he muttered, almost to himself. "That is not normal either."
Yakov's expression darkened. "You noticed?"
"Course I did " Yuri snapped. "I am not blind."
He crossed his arms looking away briefly before glancing
"...You do not push yourself like that unless someone is forcing it."
There was a pause.
Then, quieter -
"...That coach of yours..."
His fists clenched slightly.
"...They are messing you up."
Yakov sighed, rubbing his temple. "We will address that later. For now safety first."
Yuri. Did not argue.
Instead he turned back expression determined.
"...We are not done."