And five and six, seven and eight. A slow, sad song began to creep out of the black speakers of the old sound system. Six girls, sweating and panting watched, all with their backs pressed against the cool white walls of the studio. A slightly faster beat kicked in and a high pitched, woman's voice rang the mirrors. They all watched in envy. She was always the best. She got almost every solo and lead. Why was she sodamn good?! The slender, raven haired dancer moved gracefully with the story behind the music. Expressing the pain of the song, perfectly hitting every leap, turn, passé, pirouette, lunge, kick, and leg extensions. She would nail this audition. She always did.
Half of the girls hated her for being so perfect. The other half wanted to be her. As the song neared its end, the dancer finished with a delicate triple pirouette and gracefully fell to the ground.
At first there was no sound. You could have done better. You could have kicked higher, you could have leaped higher, and you could've been perfect. As Rukia's thoughts desperately began to flood her mind, they were interrupted by the sound of jealousy glazed, unenthusiastic claps.
"Well done, Miss Kuchiki, well done." A woman with tanned skin and a ridiculously purple pony tail praised. Rukia lifted her head from the chilled wooden studio floor.
"I can do better Madame Yotowitchi. I'd be glad to do it again." Rukia desperately tried to convince her dance instructor that one more time would improve her dance performance. "Nonsense." Madame Yotowitchi replied, with a harder tone to her voice. "It was lovely, but we must keep going. We still have two more contestants for our solo auditions." "Of course." Rukia mentally reassured herself. She was hardly ever this jumpy. If it was a solo for a competition it would be no big deal, but it wasn't. It was the leading solo in her very own dance company's (the Seirete Dance Company) annual showcase. Almost every talent scout in Kurakara was going to be there. She needed to nail this solo. She needed it!
Walking back to her spot against the appealing cold wall, Rukia's doubts soon regained life. You suck. How could you? You've been dancing since you were 3. How could you ruin this? Why weren't your leg extensions right beside your face? Why didn't you do a quadruple pirouette? Why do you suck?!
As she hit the cold wall, Rukia took a swig of her water bottle and tried to quiet the thoughts. Just as she had gotten a firm hold on her insecurities, a name was called. The name was called. The name that Rukia hated the most.
"Miss Inoue?"
Rukia's features tensioned. Why? Why, why, WHY did Orihime have to go up and audition right after her?! Orihime was good. Really good, so good that she just might have Rukia beat for best dancer.
Rukia scowled as the bubbly, auburn haired girl popped right up off the dance studio's wall. With a smug smile on her face, Orihime wiggled her curvaceous body up to the center of the large studio. Rukia sucked in her breath as she watched Orihime take the beginning position, but not before Miss Inoue shot Rukia a menacing glare. Watching Orihime dance was intimidating, and also uncomfortable. Watching the girls giant breasts jiggle about though her tight fitting tank top was almost painful to watch. At least that was one thing Rukia could criticize her about. But her leaps, turns, and leg extensions clearly out shown Rukia's. This juvenile competition that had been going between them since, god knows when, was just as annoying as Orihime's squeaky voice.
The story of the dance was about a woman who lost her love in battle. That was another thing Rukia could criticize Orihime about. Her lack of expression. She knew it was rude ad childish to keep this fight fueled, but right now it was important. Her dance career could be on the line. How could she ever get noticed by a talent scout if she wasn't a leading role?
After an eternity of watching boobs on legs bounce around the studio, all of the dancers, clad in dance spandex shorts and tank tops, watched the busty girl do a double pirouette and fall to the floor. Double pirouette! Only a double! I still have a chance!
"That was very nice Miss Inoue." Madame Yotowitchi smiled towards the seemingly sweet girl.
"Thank you Madame." The girl replied. Orihime straightened out her orange colored tank top, flipped her long pony tail once, and returned back to her seat against the wall. All the while never breaking the smug eye contact she held with Rukia. Rukia on the other hand could not feel less intimidated by Orihime's rude looks. This whole thing was just so juvenile! Madame Yotowitchi cleared her throat and clicked the sound system off. All wide eyed, the dancers watched Madame, eyes glued, hoping, praying that they received the solo act.
"You've all worked very hard, I know that." Yotowitchi began slowly, smiling and making eye contact with each and every girl. Adrenaline raced in all of their bodies. The suspense was killing them. "But…" Madame continued, stretching them further, for her own amusement. "I'm going to need time to think the show case placement over." Shoulders dropped and quiet groans voiced themselves louder than expected. Rukia's heart sank. If I were good enough, she would've known to pick me. She looked over at Orihime, who was sporting a pout. She always sported a pout.
"Now, now girls, no need to be upset. There will be a show case soloist I just need time to"- an alarmingly loud sound cut off Madame Yotowitchi's words and caused all of the thin, porcelain doll-looking dancers to jump in surprise. It wasn't just a sound, though, as it continued, it was a song. A loud, rap, hip hop song blared from inside the next studio over. "What the-?!" Yotowitchi yelled in surprise. What they hell was going on in there?! All at once the girls exchanged excited glances, Madame Yotowitchi hardly ever got mad, but when she did, it was awesome!
All at once, Madame Yotowitchi's yellow eyes became fueled with anger. Who the HELL was interrupting her class?! Especially with that loud, profane music!? There were many studios in the Seirete Dance Company building, but the one the music was coming from was the largest, only used for advanced members and, of course, her own class of advanced lyrical dancers. Yotowitchi whipped her head around to the door way so fast that her pony tail hit her in the face. That only fueled her anger more. Storming towards the door way, Madame practically ripped the door off its hinges. All seven girls scurried after her, giggling excitedly, hoping to see a great fight unfold. After sprinting down the large, picture framed hallways, Madame and her class finally reached the door of the studio that had interrupted their precious dance class.
Yotowitchi grabbed the door knob with such force, Rukia feared it would break. If it's some DAMN hoodlums that broke into MY studio they'll have to deal with ME and the LAW! Yotowitchi thought to herself as she furrowed her brows. Turning the knob forcefully and looking in the studio, Yotowitchi's anger ridden face now became mixed with confusion. The girls crowed around their dance instructor, eager to see what had unfolded in the large studio. They were not prepared for what they were about to see.
Boys! Boys were in the studio. Hot, sweaty, attractive, and some shirtless, boys! Boys who were dancing! Some girls bit their lips in confusion, others began to frantically smooth out their hair, or frumble with a non-flattering tank top. Rukia personally saw Orihime extend her cleavage a bit further. Was she the only one still annoyed?! They're boys, who cares?! What about dance what about the show case!?
Yotowitchi began to search the room for an instructor. Who allowed such a thing? What instructor allowed this chaos? The loud rap music was abruptly stopped and all attention was pointed to the corner of the studio, where a single man, clad in a black t-shit and grey sweat pants stood.
"Hi, Honey."
"Kiske?" Yotowitchi exclaimed. The girls gasped. Kiske was the name of Madame Yotowitchi's husband. Madame talked about him endlessly sometimes. About their engagement a year ago, or how Kiske used to own this ratty old shop. Madame also talked about how the girls may have a chance to see him, since he worked at the Company building. But the building was so large, all Rukia had ever seen of him was a picture or two.
"Kiske, what is the meaning of this?!" Yotowitchi began to angrily storm towards her husband. The blonde haired man smiled and gave his class a shaky voiced "Break, guys!" When Yotowitchi finally twitched her angry butt up to the man, she bore her scalding eyes into him. "Why is the boys hip hop group here?!" Though her tone was angry, she voice was hushed. "Oh Darling, how wonderful it is to see you." Kiske tried his best to sweet talk his wife. "I'm serious Kiske!" Madame tore the man's loving hands from her tiny waist. Kiske sighed, in a defeated tone. "They were waxing the floors in the hip hop room, we had to get a large studio to work in. The show case is coming up."
Though the hushed argument between the couple continued, the group of advanced lyrical dancers where no longer listening, their presence in the room was quickly noticed by the muscular, hip hop dancing boys.
"We got a live one here, boys." A spikey red haired boy yelled at his friends. The group of boys began to descend upon the dancers like a pack of hungry vultures. "Ooh ballerinas!" One taunted. "We're LYRICAL dancers!" Rukia protested in vain. "We're lyryryical dancers!" the spikey, red haired boy mocked her in a high pitch girl voice. In horror, the girls watched as some of the boys began to do some mock-ballet moves. How dare they insult ballet! Didn't they know that ballet was the base of every dance?! Soon the boys began to poke the girls every now and then, causing one to squeal in surprise. Is this some sort of sick game?! Rukia thought in horror. As the poking began to intensify, so did the squealing. Soon the boys where everywhere, running around, grabbing girls butts, poking their bellies and boobs. Rudeness and disrespectfulness was apparently a word these boys didn't know.
"EEH!" a young man yelled and jumped over the red pineapple head's back. This young man suddenly caught everyone's eye. He couldn't help it. For on he had his shirt off, exposing defined, sweaty abs, and two, his hair was the color of an orange highlighter. Most of the banter began to stop when the Crayola crayon head had made his presence clear. Rukia couldn't help but understand that this boy was the ring leader of their little circus. Pushing her way through the bodies of sweaty dancers, both male and female, Rukia had finally made her way up to the orange haired boy. She'd had enough of this, and she'd end it.
"Excuse me," Rukia began politely, "Can you please tell your little"- she looked around in disgust-"friends to stop harassing me and my class?" Expecting this boy to listen to reason, Rukia let her guard down, and immediately regretted it. "Garb the doe!" The orange haired boy yelled in her face and the ruckus began again, even louder than before. Before she knew it, Rukia was hoisted on the orange haired boy's shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
She screamed out in protest. "Put me down! Put me down you imbecile! PUT. ME. DOWN!" All she could see was a blur of bodies hear girls shrieking and some giggling. Where the hell was Madame Yotowitchi?! "YOTOWITCHI! MADAME YOTOWITCHI HELP ME!"
Rukia's cries of help appeared to be heard, because the next thing that was loud enough for the whole studio to hear was "BOYS! STOP!"
Everyone had frozen where they were. The voice belonged to a man, it had to have been Instructor Kiske. From where Rukia was being held, she could clearly see the un-mirrored wall of the studio, staring straight at Kiske and Yotowitchi Urahara. "Put her down, Ichigo." Suddenly, the orange haired boy dropped Rukia straight on her ass. She hit the ground so hard, she thought she may have bruised her tail bone. She could see The Uraharas' watching the group of frazzled teens.
The loud slapping of the hard, wooden floor against Rukia's ass was an enormous sound, the boys, even a few girls giggled. How could this happen?! She was Rukia Kuchiki! No one embarrassed her like that.
The Crayola freak made eye contact as Rukia began to stand on her feet again. "You okay, doe?" Doe. What was with the street slang? Whatever it meant, Rukia hated the term. Without warning Rukia fired her small foot into the tall boy's shin. "I'm FINE!" she yelled at him in the shell shockingly quiet studio. The boy grabbed his shin and hopped in pain twice.
"What the hell?!" Was the only thing that escaped his mouth. That dirty, gross, greasy, grimy, boy mouth! "How dare you endanger me like that! Don't you know who I am?!" Rukia knew the comment must've sounded completely stuck up, but it was clear that she was better than this ghetto scum.
They boy finished nursing his bruised shin and stared at her angrily. Flaming brown eyes shot lasers through her. "And why should I know you!?" he retorted. "Just cuz' you can do this"- and to Rukia's surprise, the boy did a perfect quadruple pirouette-"Aint mean you're anything special." The room was silent for a moment.
A quadruple pirouette?! People just don't pull those out of their pockets!" Rukia thought in shock. Then a sly thought crept into her mind. But anyone can do those horrid hip hop moves.
Rukia smiled sweetly at the boy and replied. "Well, Ichigo, just because you can dance 'hip hop' doesn't make you any more special either!" and with that snappy comment, Rukia began to imitate hip hop moves, she didn't need music. She began to move like they did. Sloppily, sharpness and kicks all flowed out of the tiny dancer as if it where nothing. She ended her little display of hip hop with a jump that landed her chest to chest, far more closer than she had anticipated, with this Ichigo character, her arms open in a masculine way. As if saying "bring it on"
Ichigo couldn't help but be intrigued by this small dancer. He'd never seen a girl dance like that before…who is this chick? As the boys stared at Rukia in silence, the girls began to giggle and some even clapped for Rukia's display of dancing dominance.
Rukia felt very smug, and backed away from the shirtless, sweaty hip hop dancer, whose eyes where as wide as saucers with surprise. As Rukia's ego built up 110% Ichigo's curiosity went up 110%
"What's your name, Doe?" Ichigo said softly, voice brimming with curiosity. Why was he constantly calling her 'doe'? Was it slang for 'female'? Rukia began to smile and walk towards the group of girls. "Stop calling me Doe." She ordered, she turned her back towards the boy. Just as Rukia met the crowd of girls, Madame's voice rang out in the heart of the studio.
"Class is over, for both dancers. Go home." As the boys and girls grunted with disappointment, they lined out of the large dance space, leaving teens disappointed to see the dance battle intensify even more. Also, leaving Yotowitchi and Kiske alone, having watched the entire scene unfold. After each one of the dancers filed out of the studio, Kiske turned to his mate, eyes shining with excitement.
"Did you see that?!" Yotowitchi lacked to see his excitement. They boys had harassed her best class of dancers and caused a fight to ensue.
"I'm not following you Kiske." She shook her purple pony tail in confusion, crossing her tanned arms. "Honey, those kids are talented! Did you see Kurosaki do that pirouette?! And Kuchiki dance hip hop, like it was nothing?!" Yotowitchi was tired and losing interest in the subject matter. "Yes, and?" she inquired in a tired tone. Kiske's excitement never left his eyes for a moment. "These kids have so much potential! We should have a mixed class! To further their dance experience!" Yotowitchi looked at her husband like he had three heads. "You can't be serious Kiske!" "No really!" Kiske pushed on. "This could be revolutionary!" Yotowitchi sighed. Although her husband was insane, this idea had a god point…
All Rukia wanted to do was sleep when she got home. Her father was off on another business trip as usual and she found her mother asleep on one of the many expensive couches in the Kuchiki television room, watching reruns of old shows. Dance tonight went from bad to worse. She was hoping for some luck, and it turned out to be a disaster. With that Ichigo kid calling her "Doe." Every ten seconds, and by the way, she could totally feel him looking at her ass when they had all left the studio. She was so done, so tired, and so not ready for another tiresome day of school tomorrow. Oh well, at least she never had to lay eyes on that annoying carrot top again. And that was the thought that put her into a peaceful sleep.