Aleksandr stepped out of the official car with his usual expression — cold, calculated, impenetrable — but inside, something was stirring. The Leonid Arkaev Olympic Center loomed before him like a fortress of glass and steel, reflecting the cloudy sky of St. Petersburg. The muffled sound of the crowd could already be heard even outside, a distant hum that vibrated in the air like a warning. He took a deep breath, smelling the rain mixed with the metal of the structures. His steps were steady, but his heart was beating faster than normal. Competing here, in his home country, in front of millions who expected nothing less than gold, brought a kind of pressure that not even years of grueling training with his father could prepare him for. For the first time in a long time, Aleksandr felt that perfection might not be enough — not with the rival gymnast there too.

He had built a nearly flawless career — the kind of trajectory that seemed written with mathematical rigor, where every move was calculated, every mistake punished with more hours of training. Aleksandr had dedicated most of his life to the apparatus, the jumps, the relentless pace of the clock. He had spent more years training than he could ever imagine, sacrificing friendships, passions, and even his youth for that brief gleam on the podium. While many allowed themselves to live, he had molded himself to perfection with blood, sweat, and tears. Nothing had been given for free. Everything had been earned with pain. And now, standing there, in front of the arena that bore the name of a national hero, he knew that every eye, every camera, every Russian in the audience wanted to see him win — or fall trying. And worst of all, he knew that the rival would be there. Watching. Taunting. Shining. Maybe even winning.

It had been a real nuisance when the rival had appeared out of nowhere, exploding onto the international scene with that insolent charisma and sharp technique. Aleksandr, accustomed to keeping his cool even in the most tense situations, had to admit — though never out loud — that this unexpected presence had been uncomfortable from the start. He had faced dozens of opponents throughout his career, and none of them had really shaken him. They came, they tried, they lost. But this rival was different. From the first time he saw him compete, something had been ignited inside him — a restlessness that bordered on anger, but also... something more.