Yellow
Fakir had forgotten just how strong Ahiru was over the years. The more he fights against Ahiru digging her heels in the dirt, however, the more he remembers.
"It's not that bad," he argues, teeth gritted from exertion.
"Yes it is! Lillie told me so!" Ahiru whines.
"And how many times has Lillie been right?"
Despite the lack of examples proving Lillie's reliability, Ahiru tosses her head left and right and kicks against the ground, gaining more footing. Eventually Fakir lets go of her wrists and she lands on her butt, flopping over.
"You're acting like a moron," Fakir says, careful not to accuse her of actually being a moron. There is, he has to admit, nothing stupid about phobia. But what needs to be done needs to be done. "Look, I'll go first and you'll see it's not so bad."
She fusses there on the ground before Fakir gently tilts her chin up.
"Ahiru, you know I wouldn't do anything now to hurt you, right?"
She reluctantly nods.
"And you know if we don't do this, we won't be able to keep going to ballet class, right?"
She nods again and lets him pull her to her feet. With a gentle hand, he dusts off the side of her skirt.
"I promise it's not as bad as others make it out to be," Fakir reassures. "It really isn't. And I'll be right there with you. Okay?"
"But it's gonna hurt," Ahiru protests one last time.
The whine of her voice fades away when Fakir kisses her cheek.
"What if I did that when it happens? Will that help?"
"...we could try it," she relents.
And with that, Ahiru finally follows Fakir into the doctor's office.