Welcome to my new series! It's loosely based on the book Bunheads by Sophie Flack and my experiences with classical ballet training. I'm really excited to share all that I've learned from my research, and I hope that I have some exciting moments in store for everyone!
My lovely friend Tempestt (blackbloodedredreaper on AO3) who inspires me every single day just dedicated her new fic ("University From Hell") to me, and it absolutely made my day. It's shaping up to be a really funny work, and she also has tons of other AMAZING fics. If you like kurotsukki, or even just good characterization, enjoyable plots, and Haikyuu!, you should totally check her out!
Kageyama entered the studio lobby and knelt to open his bag, digging through it until he found his flat shoes. Methodically he stripped off his warm-ups, threw his stuff into a locker in the boy's dressing room, and walked in stocking feet to his usual place at the barre.
The studio was lovely, as expected of a place that elevated dancers from the bustling streets of the city to the exclusive spotlights of the Paris Opera House, though the students looked a little worse for wear. Kageyama was aware on some level that the average person would have a difficult time with the eight or more hours a day classes and rehearsals required, but for him, it was simply a necessity. It didn't matter if he was tired, so long as he got to dance.
He was early, as usual, and began his vigorous stretching routine. Kageyama groaned as he did a few sweeping grande battement facing the barre to loosen up his hips. He kicked his leg out to the side and allowed the momentum to carry it across his body so the motion resembled a pendulum. He did a few of them, glancing behind him at the mirror to check his alignment, before gently pulling his leg from the outswing into passe and sliding it back to the ground to stand in first position. He had intended to repeat the exercise on the other side, but on his first kick, the inside of his foot caught someone in the side.
Kageyama paused and turned his head, about to mumble an apology when he locked eyes with the person in question. It was a boy, taller and thinner than even himself, with golden blonde hair left long enough to curl around his temples.
"Watch yourself there, King," said the dancer, the corner of his lips pulling into a smirk. "You get too close to the sun, you might just be burned."
It wasn't a genuine threat, not really. This was Tsukishima Kei, a foreigner like him, who apparently had nothing better to do than try to rile him up- and in their shared native language, whom no one around them understood. The unfortunate part was that it worked well enough to make his eye twitch slightly, even though it had taken Kageyama a long time to understand the reference.
Kageyama took a deep breath and shuffled away down the barre, lifting his fingers and placing them back on the barre delicately so he was no longer clutching the wood. He looked straight ahead and finished his repetitions, but it was harder to keep his shoulders back and his head up now.
Talking with Tsukishima had cost him, giving him barely enough time to finish stretching out his quads and hamstrings and do his core exercises. Retaining his strength and lean muscle tone was key in his mind; falling behind wasn't an option. He was slipping on his flats as the instructor entered and stood up, long limbs unfolding like a graceful flower.
He angled away from the barre to bow to Master Asahi along with the rest of the class, while the man in question waved his hands in embarrassment as if it wasn't just a formality. Kageyama didn't mind taking class with Azumane, a retired soloist, but he was always uncomfortable watching the man get bullied by his own students.
The dancers of mixed genders, races, and ages all had one thing in common: they liked to take advantage of him to skip class and had made a game out of seeing how far he could be pushed before running to another staff member. Tsukishima swore up and down that he'd seen Azumane cry before in the arms of their wellness supervisor, but while Kageyama didn't doubt he was right, he had a fair conviction that Tsukishima played a part in the events leading up to that.
He was a good teacher, fair and patient, which was a gift from God Himself when compared to his colleagues. Azumane also did a lot of his own demonstrations, putting on his flat shoes and walking them through the more difficult combinations, which was unanimously appreciated by his students since it saved them all the embarrassment of being caught confused or having to ask a question. Rumor had it that he was in the process of creating his own original work of choreography, and would be holding open auditions. He'd better learn to stick up for himself by then, Kageyama thought, because the claws really came out when there were roles on the line.
The barre was slow and through, giving him time to recalibrate the muscles that twinged in his back from yesterday's modern workshop. However, the class picked up steadily, incorporating combinations tricky enough to force Kageyama's brain to wake up. By the time they were all bowing to Azumane and thanking him for class, he was drenched in sweat and ready for their next rehearsal.
Before that, though, he thankfully remembered to duck out and change his shirt. When he'd first come to the company he'd been hard pressed to find a pas de deux partner that didn't run away from him, which was totally unfair considering that Tsukishima apparently lacked sweat glands and wasn't capable of being gross. The girls loved the blonde, something that he rubbed in Kageyama's face frequently, but it never bothered him the way he felt it should. Girls, he thought, were unnecessary distractions, like mosquitos buzzing around in the general vicinity. But if he was being honest, it was Tsukishima who was the worst culprit, with that stupid little smile and those perfect arches and that perky-
Kageyama shook his head quickly, his bangs clumpy with sweat stubbornly sticking to his forehead. Distractions were bad, he reminded himself. Especially if they were his competitors. He intended to be promoted all the way to the top, and he didn't need anyone else for that- especially not Tsukishima Kei.
His partner walked over to him, the knot on her right pointe shoe starting to come untucked. Kageyama slowly raised his eyes from the ground, only to find that he didn't have to look all that far. She was small, exceedingly so, and younger than the other apprentices. He looked from side to side, waiting for someone to jump out and yell 'Gotcha!' but he had no such luck.
"I'm Akane," the girl said, craning her neck a little to look up at him. "I'm new to the company, it's nice to meet you." She was cute, he guessed, with her hair tied up in a bun that couldn't quite contain fair curls that peaked out. Still, nothing about her made him feel… the way a cute girl dressed in barely anything was supposed to make him feel. She was pretty, maybe, but even knowing this, he didn't find her attractive. He stood still for a second, confused, before she huffed impatiently and he realized he'd been staring.
"You're Tobio, right?" she asked, and he tried his hardest not to flinch, he really did. It was hard enough getting used to a place where a completely different language was spoken, but to be a part of a culture where a stranger (especially a woman) would address him so informally… well, it was still a bit of a shock.
"Yes," he said shortly, and cleared his throat. "Nice… to meet you too." She seemed satisfied with this response, giggling a bit. Kageyama was a bit taken aback by her reaction, but he shrugged it off- if his partner was easy to please, it just made his job easier.
The choreographer came through the door and clapped his hands sharply, causing all heads in the room to turn. The girl at Kageyama's side gasped and did a small jump/clap-clap on her own. "I didn't know he was going to be here NOW," she stage whispered, seemingly awestruck by Yamamoto, a man they worked with regularly. Kageyama opened his mouth to inform her of that fact, when a piercing gaze landed right on him. He shut his mouth and stood straighter, feet in a perfectly turned out 180 degree line, as he pushed his shoulders back. However, the eyes zoomed straight to his left, fixing his eyes on Akane, who was practically vibrating with intensity.
The man sighed, and the tension in the room seemed to drain away a bit, relieving the uncomfortable pressure. He beckoned to the young woman, and Akane all but tripped over her ribbon in her haste to get to the front.
"Listen up!" he yelled, his voice unnecessarily loud, like always. "This here is my little sister, and I want you all to welcome her to the company! And no funny business, you hear?"
The assembled pairs mumbled agreement, including Kageyama, who was a little miffed. Of course he got stuck with the younger sister of an important staffer. One wrong step, and he could be kicked out the door by a perfectly pointed foot up his ass- quite literally, if Taketora's impressive bulk was anything to go by. Then again, if he performed as he usually did, then perhaps he'd be one step closer to promotion.
Yamamoto let his sister return to Kageyama's side, who elbowed her until she looked up then nodded to her untied ribbons. She squeaked, cheeks reddening in what Kageyama thought was an unnecessary level of embarrassment for such a silly thing. He tuned her out in favor of watching Yamamoto go over the boy's part of the variation, which was surprisingly simple. Akane had to move out of the way a few times as she fussed with her pointe shoes to avoid being kicked in the head, but he paid her no mind.
From there they moved on to the first set of lifts, the part where the girls would join the men on stage. Akane went to stand up but wobbled, and Kageyama grabbed her elbow to hoist her onto her feet. She shot him a mildly cross look (perhaps he'd been a little too rough- she was clearly more delicate than he'd accounted for) but his attention honed in on her older brother as he began to explain what he wanted from the couples.
Tombe pas de bourre, double pirouette to fifth, glissade asamble, glissade asemble UP into the shoulder sit. Fair enough, he thought. It was pretty basic partnering, though it would look impressive when done in unison with beats as the girls came down to the ground. He realized the allegro music made the whole thing seem exciting, even if it was just a bunch of moves he'd done thousands of times strung together, and that was when he knew that he was more than capable of executing the choreography- he was going to master it, and on the first try too.
They marked through the steps twice, Kageyama frustrated that he had to reach down at an unfamiliar angle to grasp her waist. He was thrown off by the change- every other partner had been able to adapt to his way of working, so why did she insist on not following him?
The choreographer had the girls clear to the sides of the room as if waiting in the wings and started up the music, which was as light as the chirping of birds. Odd choice for a man who had a strip of his hair dyed blonde right down the center of his head, but it didn't matter anymore once Kageyama started to dance.
Nothing mattered anymore. He swept through the motions fluidly, barely having to think about the choreography. It was instilled in his limbs, and his years of technique classes kept him from losing form. He was so lost in the movement that when Akane rushed out to meet him, he almost missed the first step.
The pirouette wasn't so bad, the pointe shoes giving her enough extra height that he could get a decent grip on her. On the glissade, Akane faltered a bit off balance, and she hurriedly whispered 'Not so high!' to him. However, Kageyama was so sure that he could compensate for the mistake that when he lifted her up to shoulder height, he completely forgot that he didn't need to put the same amount of muscle into handling such a small partner.
He realized his error a second before it happened but it was too late. Akane slid over him so she was dangling down his back with a cry and he just managed to clamp his hands around his ankles to keep her from crashing into the ground.
Someone hit pause on the music, and a wave of people rushed forward. Unsure of what to do, Kageyama stood frozen as people eased her down and someone pried his fingers off so she could be walked over to a chair for some water and a break. There was talk of calling Sugawara, their nurse/therapist/mother all in one, but Yamamoto shut that idea down right away. After determining that his sister wasn't injured, just frightened, he patted her on the head and told the others that there was no need to bother Koushi. He looked around at the room, its occupants ranging from concerned to enraged, and declared they could have the rest of the rehearsal time off. He didn't seem happy about it- in fact, he looked murderous- but he seemed to bite his cheek as he lead his sister out of the room.
Kageyama found himself standing alone in the middle of the studio in near darkness. Someone must have switched the lights off to save energy he thought, and bowed his head. He could have seriously hurt his partner, and he didn't apologize or even make sure she was okay. He felt bad but maybe he shouldn't have been surprised by his own actions- Tsukishima's name for him existed for a reason, and history is supposedly known to repeat itself. He shuddered, unwilling to revisit that mistake just yet, and headed for the door himself to go get some air.
Instead of going out the front (where he knew plenty of people from the botched practice would be hanging around) he took the stairs up to the second floor, then the third. He made a left and found himself in front of a big window that provided easy access to the roof. It was one of his favorite places in the city, even though it didn't have a spectacular view. It just made him feel big, important, looking down at the little ants of people going about their day. However, the hope in his chest sank into a sour feeling in his stomach when he saw that the window was thrown open and the screen already popped out. Through the glass he saw a figure sitting on the edge of the roof, smoke drifting from a lit cigarette he held loosely between his fingers.
Kageyama considered his options. He could go back inside, or he could join Tsukishima on the roof. Both sounded awful, but before he could decide for himself, he saw Tsukishima look over his shoulder. He'd been caught, and with no other choice, he climbed out the window and stood just behind the man.
"Welcome, King," Tsukishima said with an exaggerated bow of his head, speaking their native Japanese. He wasn't smiling this time, or laughing, and his strangely bland reaction to Kageyama's appearance was chilling in its strangeness. "What do you want?"
"Nothing," Kageyama replied shortly, looking past Tsukishima into the cloudy grey sky. "Just some air. But you're out here polluting it."
Instead of a witty response or some pretentious proverb, Tsukishima was quiet, swinging his legs as if he were a child instead of a (nearly) full grown man three stories above the ground. He flicked some ash off the end of his cigarette and took a long drag, slowly releasing the smoke. Kageyama noticed that he exhaled with the wind, letting it carry the smoke (and its smell) away.
Finally, he spoke. "You really don't get it, do you?" his back still to the window, and by extension, Kageyama.
"Get what?" he replied tightly, moving so he could sit cross legged on Tsukishima's right. The roof was warm from the midmorning sun, and he leaned backwards on his hands as he tilted his head up toward the sky.
"The reason you have no friends," Tsukishima said, gazing out in front of them. Enraged, Kageyama opened his mouth to reply but nothing came to mind, leaving him to flap his jaw like a fish.
The blonde man turned his head, at the same time stubbing out his cigarette on the roof. Amber eyes bored into Kageyama, and suddenly he felt naked and vulnerable under the gaze of someone he had always put defenses up around. "It's because you're selfish," he continued casually, reaching into his duffel bag for his pack of Gauloises, "You want one?"
Kageyama's face contorted into an expression that made Tsukishima's lips quirk, but there was no humor in his eyes. He looked sad, which confused Kageyama even further, which caused him to furrow his brow. "What?" he asked tightly, staring as Tsukishima lit a new cigarette.
"I asked you if you wanted a cigarette," Tsukishima said slowly, as if Kageyama was hard of hearing.
"No, not that," Kageyama replied, gritting his teeth as he tried to keep his voice at a reasonable level. "What do you mean, I'm selfish?"
Tsukishima considered that for a second, taking a drag. He slowly let the smoke go, deliberately letting some drift into Kageyama's face. "Akane's left ankle is stiffer than her right," he said finally, his voice taking on an edge of its own. "It's easy to see, just by the way she walks. Probably the result of a recent injury, since it seems to make her nervous and really throw her off balance. But you didn't notice, did you?"
Kageyama froze. He hadn't, and the admission was written all over his face. Tsukishima snorted and looked straight ahead again. "You could've really hurt her, all because you weren't paying attention to anyone but yourself. You never do."
He got up now, furious with Tsukishima who was acting so high and mighty. "Where do you get off being such a smug bastard all the time?"
Tsukishima stood too, and dropped the remainder of his cig carelessly. "At least I know I'm horrible," he replied, and now he really was smiling. "You think you're a good person, but sorry to break it to you, you're not."
Kageyama took two steps forward and grabbed Tsukishima by the collar. His eyes were blazing, but the other dancer didn't even blink. He turned and used all his strength to shove Tsukishima into the wall to the left of the window. He pinned him flat against the surface with a hand on his throat, and Tsukishima was shaking- not with fear, but with silent laughter.
"Go ahead," he said, staring right into Kageyama's face. "Hit me. Prove me right."
Kageyama faltered, his grip loosening, but instead of trying to get away, Tsukishima raised one delicate hand and wrapped his fingers around his wrist. "So maybe you are human after all," he said, marveling at his new discovery. "I always wanted to meet you, back home. Hearing so much about you, how could I not?"
"Shut up," Kageyama growled, wishing he could cover his ears like a little kid.
"They always said," Tsukishima continued, "how you had the perfect technique, and the right body, and the artistry to perform anything. They called you a genius and a prodigy, and the girl's magazines described you as handsome. But the one thing I'd never heard? That you were nice."
"Shut up!" Kageyama insisted, wanting to close his eyes and pretend this wasn't happening, but he just couldn't look away.
There was a long moment of silence, and Tsukishima's eyes softened. The harsh lines and angles of his face smoothed into something much more pleasant and appealing. He spoke very quietly now, causing Kageyama to lean in so he could hear better.
"Maybe that's why I like you so much."'
Kageyama froze as Tsukishima let go of him, his arm falling to the side. He watched as Tsukishima looked to the side, away from him, and heard the blood rushing through his head as his heart pounded in his chest. He didn't know why he did what he did next and never managed to figure it out that night or any time after for that matter, but he knew that in an instant, he had changed everything.
"Oi." At the sound of his voice Tsukishima started to turn towards him. That was when Kageyama grabbed his chin roughly and pulled him down, crashing their lips together in an unceremonious kiss.