It's a strange sort of oh that Katsudon makes, after a pause that makes Yuri wonder if somehow the translation hadn't quite allowed the message to go through. Because what could be more straightforward than that? Even Katsudon would have to admit that his Rostelecom free skate hadn't been great, in spite of how anyone with a pair of eyes in their head could​ see that it should have been something more than it had been. You can't count on him to choke there like he did here, Yakov had said, and Yakov would be one to know, wouldn't he? So why wouldn't Yuri have shown his grandfather that free skate from Shanghai -- the one he'd watched in the cafe, a ferocious hunger gnawing at him from the inside out while his borscht sat untouched in front of him -- so he could know exactly what Yuri had to beat in Barcelona?

But that's not the end of it, not really. ​'​He said I should wish you ​​good luck​​ from him, if I saw you before then.' A slight huff through his nose, like a line drawn under that statement, and he picks at the noodles without trying to lift them fully out of the bowl. 'I know he didn't mean that I'd see you here, but...whatever, that's what he said to me. So now you know.'

It's not really even a begrudging sort of good luck, as Yuri sees it. You can wish someone luck, even hope that they're lucky, and still not want them to win. But his grandfather's not the sort who just says that sort of thing without meaning it. Because it's a reminder to Yuri as well, that fortune often smiles brightest on those who are willing to do what it takes to succeed.

Good luck and do your best: two sides of the same coin.