Aishuu Offers:
Le Petit Prince
A Kaleido Star Oneshot
Disclaimer: Not Mine.
Notes: In an early ep, Ken tells Sora he can't jump because of his heart. It's implied that he did at one point, and I wrote this before the series advanced to meet his family. It's AU now.
He wondered if he was the only one who ever wanted to run away from the circus.
The first thing he could remember was not the sound of his mother's voice or the feel of her arms, but rather the sound of the crowd as they applauded for her. Ken had been born to Vanessa, star of the Kaleido stage, and that was all he knew.
He remembered watching her as she walked the tightrope, as she flew threw the air after leaping incredibly on the trampoline, as she made the crowd laugh and gasp at her sheer skill. She was wonderful, and everyone loved her.
But Ken wondered if she loved him. He knew she loved Kaleido Stage, and that was where her heart was. She seemed to have no room in her life for a child; indeed, he wondered why she had even had him. He didn't even know who his father was.
When he looked back, he knew they had always been training him to take a place on stage. There were rules to protect children from work, but there were none to protect them from play.
He learned to jump rope at two, and by three he knew about the juggling. Acrobatics came then as well, and by the time he was five he began to realize that not every child spent four hours a day "playing" with toys that practiced balance. He remembered bouncing on the trampoline, and being told his form wasn't right by a passing performer.
It didn't occur to him that a child on a trampoline shouldn't have to worry about how it was - that it should just be fun. It was the way it had always been.
Sometimes he wondered what life would have been like if he had a normal life, with normal friends. It was true that the circus wasn't a place of freaks anymore, but rather of devoted artists. Some of them were a tad on the strange side, but they all were intent on giving their best performance. It was something that a child couldn't understand...
Until he experienced it.
He didn't like doctors. It was the doctors who had told him his mother had died.
Vanessa was young and brilliant, but she was also incredibly overconfident. She would constantly push herself harder, trying to reach the next level of performance. She didn't recognizes her limitations, didn't realize that she had weaknesses.
And she did. She couldn't trust her partner.
His name was Boris Krushchev and he was Russian. He spoke with a thick accent, and Ken liked him. There was a kind look in his eyes, a way he would reach down and rumple his hair. Boris liked him, Ken knew.
But Vanessa didn't like Boris. She called him a two-bit performer who wasn't worthy of standing on Kaleido Stage, let alone being her co-star.
But they were beautiful together, and the sponsor liked them. So they were ordered to perform a dangerous act, one which involved a cloth ballet suspended fifty feet above the ground. The two would dance together, and finally Vanessa would jump to Boris and he would entwine them together, like lovers.
Needless to say, she hated it.
It happened during one of the practices. Ken sat on the side, watching, as his mother used her long legs to support her graceful body in a curve. Then she swung around, and Boris waited for her. He extended his arms...
But she had other ideas. She was famous for her ad-libbing, and she did that. Instead of swinging over to him, like the lover she was to be portraying, she released her legs and flew swung upwards, obviously intending on catching the cloth on her own.
It was like watching an angel fall from the sky, was the only thought that crossed Ken's mind before the sickening thud.
He had a fascination with heights. The higher it was, the better. He didn't like the German Wheels or bike tricks, and he wasn't fond of plain acrobatics. He wanted to be high... He knew that when he was up there, he could be free.
Ken wasn't good at everything, but he was adequate. He was good, he knew. He was good, but Kaleido Stage members had to be great. And he was great on the trapeze. Everyone gained general knowledge, but tended to specialize, and he fell in love with it.
The first time he looked at the trapeze, he was nervous. It wasn't a high trapeze, so there was no net. If he missed, he would hit the ground hard.
But they said it was time. He was eight years old, they said, and Kaleido Stage needed a new star. Others had come and gone since Vanessa, but his mother was remembered. No one else had the life she offered, that special something that elevated a performer from "excellent" to "legendary." In him, they saw the potential for that same wonderful, unspeakable element, and were determined to foster it. He was their ward, and he knew they meant only the best for him. They loved the Stage - why shouldn't he? It was in his blood.
But he was only a child, and children had fears. No one comforted his.
He looked at the trapeze, and took it in his hands. The bar was big, and he was small. He had to stand on a stool to reach it - most people practicing wouldn't.
"Timing is important!" said the performer who was helping him that day. "Jump on my mark, and jump without fear!"
Easier said than done.
"One... two... THREE!"
Ken jumped, but he was late. Still, for the brief instant before he hit the ground, he understood.
He was flying.
He was ten the first time he performed.
He wasn't allowed on his beloved trapeze, but instead he was part of a huge trampoline act that the cast that had performers running up walls and performing daring maneuvers around false buildings that were the stage. Then the buildings would be set on fire, and people would be jumping in and out. The new ringmaster, Karos, was fascinated by fire.
Ken was nervous. He had practiced and practiced, timing his jumps perfectly, but he didn't know if he could do it. He was, inherently, a shy boy. Practicing for fun was one thing, but he didn't know if he could do it for a crowd.
"It's time for the trampoline scene!" he heard Karos call, and he moved with feet that felt like lead to take his place.
Taking a deep breath, he jumped onto the stage, wondering if he would faint from the sheer terror. Then he heard the crowd, and saw how much they loved the performers.
Everything fell into place.
It was finally time for him to get his own act.
The latest show was an abstract piece about a woman who dreamed of meeting legendary characters, and he was part of it. John had designed a set, and the costumers had fitted him in beautiful blues and gold. He was going to be The Little Prince, the boy from a star.
He loved the idea. His mother had been a star, and he was going to be the boy who came from one.
Layla, who would be the lead, smiled at him as they prepared for the final rehearsals. "This will be interesting, won't it?" she asked.
He nodded. After he finished his act, she was going to try out a special move she wanted Karos to see.
"Yuri had better be careful," she laughed. "In five years, you'll probably be my partner."
It was impossible for a twelve year old to imagine, being paired with such a beautiful woman. He blushed brilliantly, before taking his place. He loved it there, right before jumping. It was a powerful feeling.
JUMP!
He swung his body, timing it so he wouldn't miss the other bar. It took courage to let go, but it was worth the feeling, worth the sense of immortality -
The bar was only a bit out of his reach. Beneath him was a net, but when he hit, it would still hurt. No matter how much you practiced falling safely, it would still hurt.
He smiled and stretched just a bit further... and missed.
He only had a brief moment of thought before he blacked out, his eyes raised towards the lights of the tent.
Was this how his mother felt, during her last moments?
It was beautiful.
He woke up in the emergency room. His body wasn't that sore, but he sensed the hushed presence of the doctors, and felt that something bad had happened. He wiggled his extremities and was rewarded when they all moved properly.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
A doctor in a white lab coat looked at him, sorrow in her eyes. She seemed reluctant, but someone out of the line of his sight said something too quickly for Ken to hear that seemed to motivate her.
"I'm sorry, Ken," the woman whispered. "But you have an irregular heartbeat. Normally that wouldn't be a problem, but in your case..."
He looked into her eyes, seeing the pity. He was good at reading people.
"What?" he asked again, feeling the fear of the unknown.
She hated crushing a child's dreams. "You can't continue as a Kaleido Stage performer," she told him. "It's too strenuous. This time you only blacked out... but..."
He knew what she was getting at, but shook his head. "I just need to concentrate harder!" he said fiercely.
"Ken," a voice said from the shadows, and he looked over, noticing Karos lurking there. "You're never going to perform again."
Ken's heart had failed him, in more ways than one.
He spent a week locked in his room, unwilling to come out.
He had never understood his mother, until he lost what she had. It was easy to love the crowd of hundreds more than one person. Now he realized that she probably had loved him, but it was impossible to love one person more than thousands.
What would his life be like, without the audience, without the crowd? Could he go and live in the mundane world, and forget about the way things were done at the stage?
Could he live... without jumping? Without that feeling...
On the eighth day, he had a visitor. People had been forcing him to eat, but none had been able to force him to talk. He was wondering how much longer he would be allowed to stay, now that he could no longer perform.
Karos stood in his room before he had a chance to object. Ken turned his head to the older man, unable to work up much of an interest in anything.
"Come with me," Karos said.
Ken rose to his feet, feeling a bit shaky. The soreness from the fall had healed, but there was nothing that could cure the ache inside of him.
They walked together, and Ken kept his eyes on the floor.
"What are you going to do now?" Karos asked.
"I don't know," Ken said. He had been fearing the question. "I don't have a legal guardian, exception for the stage-"
"That's not what I meant," Karos said. "Everyone here makes themself useful."
Ken had images of cooking dinner for the entire troupe, and cleaning rooms. It wasn't pleasant.
They arrived at the stage, and Ken looked at the darkened arena. He had rarely seen it without its lights on. "I don't know what I can do anymore."
"No one knows Kaleido Stage better than you do, Ken. No one loves it more," another voice said from the shadows, and Ken turned to see John step out. "Taking you away from it would be a mistake."
"I..." Ken was at a loss.
"You can't fly anymore, but that doesn't mean you can't help others know that freedom," John continued. "If you're willing, we'd like to train you as the next manager."
"Everyone has a role to play," Karos continued. "It may just not be the one we think it is originally."
Ken looked at the two older men, and saw how serious they were. "I..." He remembered the thrill of the trapeze, the way it felt whenever he let go. Then he thought of never seeing the stage, and knowing that out there, someone was doing what he longed to. Could he stand to watch those with less inherent talent fly?
What would be more painful?
"What do I have to do?"
THE END