At one point, not even all that long ago, Yuri would have charged into the jumps as if he were trying to leap out of the rink entirely. Stomped through step sequences like he wanted to make the ice bleed. Thrown himself into spins without caring about anything more than getting the right blade angles to stay in position. He's short and slender, still stuck in childhood's body (but not for much longer), and he'd freely admit that the quad salchow he'd landed back in juniors was nothing more than an obscene gesture directed at every pat on the head and patronising smile he'd been subjected to over the years.

But then he'd worked with Lilia, and seen where true strength comes from. It's one thing to support one's entire body weight on the point of one toe with the help of a few scraps of satin and a bit of stiff cardboard. It's another thing entirely to do all of that and at the same time make it seem like the most graceful, natural, obvious movement in the world. Without beauty, Lilia had informed him, over countless arabesques and relevées that made his bones and muscles scream in desperate protest, strength has no meaning.

Satin and stiff cardboard. Leather and razor-sharp steel.

All the same, the step sequence...hurts. There's no other word for it. His calf muscles are aching; he can feel the strain spreading in his shoulders. Normally, he'd have another triple under his belt at this point, a boost of strength to carry him into the second half. But the Allegro drives him forward, passion carried by the spread of applause as he segues through the steps into the spins. D-Damn, this is tough --

Of course it's tough. He wouldn't be doing it if it wasn't tough.

(watch me, Dedka, see what I can do!)

For the second half, he's run the numbers; two triples and a quad to start. Here we go -- !

The triple lutz is almost a relief when it comes.