This is a request from Shiranai Atsune. I know many of you were expecting an update from Yuri! on Stage? or even from my Fairy Tail fanfics, but I couldn't live with not living up to my promise.

So this is an AU story where the major difference is that Yūri is a girl,and because of that some things go very differently.

Also, the title and summary are subject to change (I was under a lot of pressure, okay). So if at any point you receive an alert that a story of mine with a title and summary you don't recognize just updated, I definitely changed it.

Sochi, Russia

Iceberg Skating Palace

Yuri Plisetsky was bored.

The awards ceremonies always took too long. The ceremony for the Junior division skaters ended long ago, but he couldn't leave yet. Yakov would have his head if he tried to leave before Viktor got his medal. So until the Senior men's ceremony was over, Yuri had to wait in the stands with his gold medal.

Yuri wished that the officials would get a move on with the Senior ladies' ceremony. It wasn't because he wanted to see Viktor get his fifth consecutive gold—the airhead had way too many to count and could honestly do without even one. It certainly wasn't because Mila made it to the podium with silver to show for it.

Was he upset that Mila didn't get the gold this year?

Hell no.

Yuri was more interested in the girl who ranked below Mila and knocked down that American skater whose name he didn't bother to learn because he was too busy laughing at her ruined makeup. With black streaks running from her eyes like ugly tears, no wonder the American's presentation score was so low.

"First, the winner of the gold medal, representing Italy!" Took them long enough, Yuri thought as they announced the overall winner. First in Russian, then in English, ending with the skater's name— "Sara Crispino!"

Yuri watched as the tanned dark haired woman skated towards the middle and bowed. He had to admit that the Crispino girl earned the gold—she was a strong jumper, which definitely helped her during the second half of the free skate.

"Second, the winner of the silver medal, representing Russia: Mila Babicheva!" Nearly the entire stadium—filled primarily with Russian spectators—erupted in applause as the red-haired young woman made her way onto the ice, waving and bowing and even blowing a kiss. They were miles away from Saint Petersburg yet Yuri could already smell a sweaty macho hockey player seething in jealousy as though said hockey oaf was sitting next to him. (He wasn't, thank God.)

"Third—" Yuri sat up as he saw—as much as he could in the dark stadium—a figure step out on the ice and wait by the rink boards. "The winner of the bronze medal, representing Japan: Yūri Katsuki!"

Yuri clapped until his hands were sore as a young Japanese woman took to the ice, a bashful smile on her face as she spun around and bowed, her ponytail waving like a personal victory banner.

Yūri Katsuki, Yuri thought to himself as the female Yuri hugged Mila and the Crispino girl before taking her spot on the podium. She flubbed her jumps but her step sequences grab your attention.

Yūri Katsuki was amazing to watch, if one ignored her failed jumps. She displayed the most intricate footwork Yuri had ever seen, but what really saved her in the end was her presentation. While Mila and Crispino were perfect in the technical aspect, Yūri had the highest presentation score out of all of them. Somehow, the Japanese woman won bronze with a technically flawed long program.

And on her first debut at the Grand Prix Final, too!

If she landed all of her jumps, she would have won gold, Yuri thought, balling up a hand. The medalists skated a lap around the ice to wave to the crowd before stopping in front of the photographers. I want to see her skate perfectly one day.

"Ready to go?"

The blond teenager looked up from his phone to see Viktor—the pretentious ass—finally leave the dressing room. "I've been waiting for eighty-four years," he snapped, shoving his phone into his pocket.

Viktor walked ahead, unfazed by Yuri's remark. Yuri hated how nothing ever seemed to ruffle the man's feathers—or maybe he was going deaf, if his gray hair and receding hairline were anything to go by.

"Yuri," Viktor said as they entered the foyer, where many people were either standing around or starting to leave. "You did well tonight, but I think your step sequence could use a bit—"

"I won, didn't I?" Yuri groaned as Viktor went on about finesse while they made their way towards Yakov. "So who really cares? Quit nagging me already."

Yuri learned long ago how to tune out Yakov when the old man had nothing new or important to say, which actually happened frequently. He also learned, after years of skating in the public eye, how to tell when people were staring at him when he wasn't looking. Yuri turned in the direction of the eyes, finding that Japanese announcer and a dark-haired young woman with glasses standing next to Yūri Katsuki's coach. Going off her athletic wear and the lanyard, the woman was definitely a competitor. Yuri didn't remember seeing her on the ice, though the woman's ponytail kept nagging him for some reason.

"Yuri!"

The sound of his name had Yuri's head whirling towards Sara Crispino, followed closely by her brother. But what the hell did the Italian girl want with him?

It turned out Crispino wasn't interested in him, but the woman standing near Celestino Cialdini. "There you are!" Sara cried, resting her hands on the barrier that separated her from the young woman. "You looked so different, I almost didn't recognize you, Yūri!"

If Yuri had been drinking something, he would have done a classic spit-take. Since that wasn't the case, Yuri could only sputter in shock. He knew that ponytail was familiar, but how the hell did Yuri not recognize Yūri Katsuki?!

"Come out to dinner with us!" Sara requested. "Everyone's dying to meet you!"

"Sara!" Her brother objected.

"E-everyone?" Yūri squeaked.

"It's just the girls," the Italian woman reassured. "Everyone else in the ladies' division already knows each other—everyone but you!"

"Um..."

The female Yuri looked towards her coach, who took her suitcase from her. "You should go," the large man said, holding out his free hand. "It'll be good for you."

Yūri removed her backpack and turned it over to Celestino, who hoisted it over his own shoulder. Apparently, the Japanese Yuri knew when people were staring at her too, since she turned in Yuri's direction. The Russian teen quickly looked away, trying to pull his hood over his eyes and hope she hadn't seen him. Thankfully, Viktor was here to distract Yūri from the blond teen.

"I want her back before midnight, and I want her alive," Celestino warned with a tone that sounded playful.

Yuri could hear the Crispino woman laugh. "Ciao ciao, Allenatore Cialdini!"

"Sara!"

Yuri looked up hesitantly, relaxing when he saw Sara Crispino run off with Yūri Katsuki. This left Michele Crispino alone with his sister's luggage and Cialdini with his student's.

"Who was that girl?" Viktor asked. In the background, Yuri could hear Yakov and Celestino talk about each other's skaters.

Yuri really wanted to sock Viktor in the head and see if that would make him grow a brain. "Idiot. That was Yūri Katsuki from Japan. This was her first time at the Grand Prix Final and she came in third, right behind Mila."

"Oh?" Viktor pressed a finger to his lips, which formed that playful smile Yuri always wanted to smack off. "You seem to have paid a lot of attention to the ladies' division."

"You don't know what you're talking about, old man."

Viktor chuckled as he leaned forward. "Don't think I didn't see you turn red when she looked at us. I almost thought you had a crush on her, Yurochka."

Did Yuri think of Yakov's wrath when he struck the heel of his palm to Viktor's chin? Did he remember that they were in a public place and any fuck up would probably end up as tabloid gold? Did he feel guilty that he might have ruined Viktor's face?

Hell. No.

Especially to the last one.

Yuri just really wanted Viktor to shut up.

Translation notes:

"Allenatore" is the the Italian word for "coach".