Prodigy | Yuri Plisetsky (EDITING)

一

Glory is not to be shared.

A single victor would be the only one to  eventually rise in the centre of that spotlight.

Regardless of the crowd who prayed on her like snakes, they fixated their gaze in awe at the unbreakable champion. Her face was so unfazed and intensely engrossed on her white skates elegantly gliding against the smooth surface of the ice. Nothing could break the skater's compelling exhibition.

A six year old child silently observed the skater as her shadow lurked behind the gates of the world outside the rink. She had memorised every complex step, every graceful movement of the teenager's hands swaying in the air and every beautiful components of her face. Anyone in the audience who would've turn away was certainly a fool.

The intense orchestral music fiercely echoed through the ring as the female skater effortlessly planted every vigorous movement with precision and skill. Like an unwavering flame, the skater illuminated with great passion yet unlike many of the previous competitiors, her flames burned parlously and uncontrollably like a great forest fire.

She turned her head towards her sister seated on the bench as the latter scrutinised her opponent with disdain and envy. Her leg was bouncing up and down, a form of trying to ease her nerves at every moment she snuck a peak of the supposed perfection of her opponent's routine.

"She's so pretty," the blonde child beamed.

The woman responded with silence.

"Did you see that quadruple salchow?" She continued to watch in awe.

"Shut up Irina," the woman with dirty blonde hair snapped as she continued to bounce her leg to soothe herself.

Irina flinched at the latter's bitter tone and reverted her gaze to the sudden sound of ecstatic cheering and endless applauding. The music gradually died away as the audience's praise dominated any sound present within the massive stadium. There was no doubt that the judgement for a new champion had already been decided.

The sisters turned towards the scoreboard as Catroyn fist clenched tighter at the bitter and frustrating reality bestowed upon her. Irina, on the other hand only raised her eyebrows as she tracked the skater being escorted by her coach onto the bench by the overwhelming sense of pride and awarding results of her performance.

1st: Mi Le Maistre (FRA)
2nd: Catroyn Voronkova (RUS)

Irina could only applaud along with the crowd at the results. She ignored her sister's silent distress and could only sigh with disappointment at her failure, for it was such a pitiful scene to watch, especially for a child to see their sibling in such a state of pain.

A muscular hand gently planted on top of Irina's as a low, gruff voice spoke.

"There's no need to clap for that mediocre display Irina," the voice sternly said.

So her hands stopped clapping and the sound of her admiration had been suppressed as she was left only to hear the audience's continuing cheers and applauses prance through the stadium.

Irina slowly glanced up at the owner's hands and wearily reverted her gaze to the floor in shame, "Sorry dad."

His tall and towering figure shifted away from her and towards Catroyn. Frankly the child was too frightened to even sneak a small glimpse at the tension between her father and sister and would be intimidated and paralysed with fear whenever she was even in the presence of his ornery appearance.

"Look dad, I'm sorry I lost," she could hear the blonde sigh. She imagined the latter rolling her eyes in the process of the male's clear sign of dissatisfaction.

"Your final performance and you came in second," he argued. "Have you not been paying attention to all the things I have told you during training? Were you even listening about the things I said about your quads?"

"Of course I have but that's not the case, the competition is growing dad. There are way more talented and younger skaters that are competing for this championship, I've been in this game for far too long."

"I'm ashamed at that response," he replied with a deep and cold answer. "That is not how a Voronkov would think."

"Who cares about how a Voronkov thinks? This is the end of my career," Catroyn snapped. "I'm happy about how far I've managed to get here, can't you be satisfied about my results for a change?"

The male was slightly taken aback with his eldest child's response, especially with her attitude about the family honour, she was aware about the delicacy of the topic. "Don't you dare take that tone with me Catroyn. Your mother and I are still not pleased about this foolish decision of yours. You had so much potential and you chose to waste it away based on nothing."

"It's not like mom has a say in anything, she didn't even bother to show up during Alek and Luka's debut into the championships. What's a bet she doesn't even want any of us to be participating in this stupid competition?"

The male cursed under his breath, holding back his frustration until the cameras turned towards them disappeared. He clasped his hands together, "We'll talk about this when we arrive home."

"Like that conversation will go anywhere," she muttered under her breath.

The child flinched at the tone between the two adults and began to sniffle with fear. She didn't want to witness another fight, it would've been the third argument this week between her father and sister. She stubbornly wiped her eyes from the formation of tears that blurred the vision from her vivacious green eyes until she could feel a pair of hands clutch underneath her arms as she found herself being hoisted into the air and perched into someone's arms.

She was met with a benign face and a loving smile. He was a lean teenager with shaggy, chocolate brown hair, despite his dull green irises, he was still considered quite a handsome boy. Yet regardless of his appearance, he was still a boy with a kind heart.

"Let's wait backstage with the others until the award ceremony's over," he faintly smiled.

Irina nodded and wrapped her arms around the male's neck and buried her tearing face against his shoulder without complaint.

He first shifted to the blonde woman and faintly smiled, "Congratulations on your win Catroyn." The teenager slowly inhaled as his hands softly trembled before he turned towards the older man on the bench and cautiously planted his hand against Irina's ear, "Dad, you shouldn't be so hard on her. Second place is quite an amazing achievement."

The latter scoffed, "You have no right to speak about skill and achievement Dmitri, you lack it yourself."

Catroyn rubbed her temples in exhaustion and slyly glared at her father with disdain, "Leave him alone." She growled and turned to her brother with a tired smile, "Thank you for your kind words Dmitri but you should take Irina and wait with the others, we'll find you after the ceremony's over."

Irina's slightly lifted her head up and softly muttered, "Can I see your medal after the ceremony Catroyn?"

The tension had shattered as Catroyn chuckled with humour at her younger sister's sudden question, "Of course."

Irina beamed with delight and waved her sister off as her older brother carried her backstage to witness her sister's awarding ceremony, "We'll be watching you on television!" she beamed.

Catroyn weakly waved the child off as she turned towards the camera with a fake smile with her father by her side. It was the final moment in her career.

Unfortunately, little did she know the truth behind Catroyn's reason for retiring.