"… Katsuki Yuuri," the announcer's voice cut into Yuuri's awareness as he took to center ice. "For his debut season, he has chosen 'Introduction' as his theme. It may be quite on the nose for this young man as he begins his first year in the Juniors, but let us meet this new 14 year old skater from Hasetsu, Japan."

Quiet filled the auditorium. Yuuri's skate scrapping the ice until he reached the center most point. His heart was beating, his lungs already aching, but he forced a calm he didn't feel. This was it.

A deep cello's thrumming filled the speakers, as Yuuri pushed off single footed. His free leg kicked rhythmically behind him while his arms swung forward and backward like a pendulum's recurring swing. When the lighter strings of melody fed the music, he spun, sliding backwards across the ice. His sure steps guiding him along the short edge of the rink before turning to face the stretch of the arena.

The light meant to highlight his hard fought for footwork was blinding. He doubted that, even if he had his glasses, he would be able to see anything beyond the overlapping circular glare enshrining him. All around him he could only make out the edge between darkness and arresting white: the black of the crowd, the light grey of the ice in shadow, and the brightness of the spotlights.

Yuuri could not feel the chill in the air nor the electric anticipation of the crowd. He was too pumped up. He could, however, feel the music aiding his adrenaline through his veins at the early crescendo. Fiery pressure built in his legs, tensing his nerves before gliding through a backwards skate into a 180-degree turn. His blood surged with restrained energy, waiting for release. He labored to pull his nearly left-behind, free right leg forward, exploiting its momentum for his spin. As the strings turned frantic, Yuuri vaulted off the outer edge of his left blade as he pulled his tight fists in to meet at his staccato heart.

One and a half. Two and a half. Three and a half times around in the air! Electricity sang falsetto in his veins at his smooth landing on the outside edge of his right foot. Gracefully, he swept his arms wide and held his back leg parallel to trail behind him, continuing the movement of his backwards glide.

Yes! He'd done it! A triple axel in his first year in the Juniors! How many practice hours, broken curfews, and molted bruises had the endless repetitions cost him? Honestly, in this moment, he didn't care. This was his chance to prove himself to Victor! To the world! That he was worth something. Worth Victor.

Yuuri's grin was giddy, but the moment had to be short lived. He had a skate to finish. Clearing his smile of accomplishment, he pressed on with his performance. He knew he'd been pushing himself, and his coaches, raged with the drive to perfect this jump, this moment in time. And it had paid off. He kept on. Breathing in and out, preparing for the rest of the program. He needed to concentrate, but at the same time knowing that, with every movement, he was closer to his dreams.

Yuuri happily turned into the ba-da-da, ba-da-da, ba-da-da of higher pitched strings, twirling on his toe picks, prancing on his tip-toes time after time, he cleared half of the rink. Transitioning quickly into another building crescendo, he spun again, this time flinging himself wide as he circled the same spot with his free leg high and behind him, perfectly perpendicular.

Every time he had proclaimed his entry to the Juniors, he had felt his chest tighten, his heartbeat had thundered through his ribs. Every competition thus far, every time he skated this program, he had known he was aiming to be worth his weight. Worth the effort. He'd glided through his choreography fantasizing about the day his work would show. His blood pulsed in his ears, his hands, and feet. Yuuri pushed for more.

The strings ba-da-da-da ba-da-da-da. The drums bum bum.

His eyes blind to anything but his finale spin combination. With every second that passed, Yuuri pushed himself. Every moment was what he and his couches had worked so hard for. Tankano-sensei had spent hours with him on the ice, encouraging him. Minako-sensei had spun with him in from of the mirror in her studio, perfecting his form.

Now he was here. His final stance held still as the final high-strung notes.

All at once the world broke. Applause crashed on his ears and he could breath. Deep and desperate. With the sound clattering around him, he bowed to the judges. To the crowd, to his coaches. Pulling as much air as possible through his lungs, his burning muscles moved him to the kiss-and-cry. He could only beg whichever deity was watching that he deserved to be worthy of his mate.

Anxiety, pushed up his arms into his heart, squeezing his stomach tight. His nerves and aching legs had him stumble out of the rink, but was caught by Tankano-sensei.

"I'm so proud of you, Yuuri-kun!" the aging Beta yelled over the sounds of the arena.

Minako-sensei's smile showed her own praise. Yuuri could feel her support through her hug before helping him into his track suit. He just hoped it was enough.

It ate at him. He'd forced himself further than he thought he could go. He had pushed and pushed, but was it far enough? Seated and waiting for his scores, his chest seemed tighter. His breathing was labored, but the air refused to fill his lungs. What if it wasn't good? What if he didn't perform well at all, much less to the level someone like Victor would have done at his age? Come to think of it… how could he even compare himself to the genius of his mate?

Victor was brilliant. A newly crowned Olympic gold medalist! His expertly exacted programs were not only flawless, but works of art. Who was Yuuri to think he could measure up to that standard? It wasn't that he put Victor on a pedestal. Or, at least, it wasn't only that. Of course, Victor was on a pedestal, but Yuuri knew he was no match to the elegance and amazing-ness that was his true mate.

A sharp elbow brought him into the moment and out of his head.

"Did you hear that?! You've finished in third! Yuuri! Oh, I am so proud of you!" Minako-sensei gushed, squeezing Yuuri so tight from the side that he couldn't breathe.

'Third? After all that work? Still just middle of the pack,' Yurri spiraled. 'Not even second, but THIRD. How was he ever going to be enough for Victor?'

That was easy. He wasn't.

Takano-sensei was saying something with Minako-sensei jumping in here and there, but Yuuri just couldn't process it. He had worked so hard all year. After his horrible display in Tokyo, he had pushed himself so hard, and it was all for THIRD.

What was he expecting? He had never competed internationally before. True, he had succeeded in his national competitions to qualify for the Junior League, but if this was the result, he had no idea what to do now. How was he supposed to become a skater worth something? How was he supposed to be worthy of his coaches' efforts if he could only take their tutoring to THIRD place?

What about all the money his parents spent on his skating? Money didn't rain down in a dwindling tourist destination like Hasetsu, and his parents had to pay for rink time, ballet, and coaches. He needed new skates, but he needed to win more.

Why were his coaches so happy? What were they 'proud' of? He'd come in THIRD in a six-competitor bracket. He needed to win. He needed to be more, do more. How was he supposed to go places in his career if he was still only mediocre?

If he didn't, he would never be able to show his face to Victor. His mate deserved someone worthwhile, and THIRD was not it.

"Yuuri," Minako-sensei squealed as she pulled his wrist forward to greet the man in front of him. "Shake the man's hand," she gritted into his ear behind her smile. "Coach Celestino wanted to congratulate you on your performance."

"Thank you, Mr. Celestino," Yuuri said in a stunned and stiff pose, shaking the offered hand with Minako-sensei doing all the work before dropping his wrist.

"I was just telling your coaches here that you have massive potential. Have you ever considered training in a dedicated rink? My facility is one of the finest in the world. Our equipment and training program are geared for those whom want to take their skating to the next level. I'd like to chat with you over a coffee. Maybe you and your coaches would like to come for a visit and see our facility for yourselves. Think it over and give me a call in the morning," the man smiled, his long ponytail swishing with his enthusiasm. "It was wonderful to see your performance, Yuuri. Truly beautiful," he said as he bowed and turned to leave.

What?

In the blink of an eye, many thoughts occurred to the young Omega.

Someone outside of his loyal coaches thought he had 'potential.'

He wondered what a dedicated rink, equipment, and training would do to his skating.

Coach Celestino wanted to fly him out to… to wherever and coach him!

"Where is your rink?" Yuuri called out before he could lose his nerve, before the man got too far, or before he said it was all a bad joke.

"America!" Celestino shouted back with a large wave and was gone, swallowed by the crowds.

America.

Maybe Yuuri knew where to go next after all.

A/N

Thanks all of you for keeping with me since I started this story. My life has been a bit of a jumble this past year. I lost my grandmother (who basically raised me until I was 4), my uncle, and two of my husband's uncles, all while dealing with my Major Depression and anxiety. Your comments and pleas to return to this story have kept it peculating in my brain, and I have never left it. Thank you all for your continued comments. In fact, I was at Anime Midwest and was talking to a friend of a friend who then tells me that they actually read TFF! It was such a blast meeting you Xyliandra, and I have you to thank for pushing me over the edge and publishing this chapter! 3

Can't wait to see what you all think!

I'm on Tumblr under storylip in case you are curious about the A/B/O headcannon that hits for this universe ;)