Breath in and out in too short, shaky bursts, the small, lithe form stared anxiously in the mirror. Though she was not fond of frowning, Ahiru found herself staring at her own glum face unable to eliminate the creases in her forehead or the tight line of her lips. She wasn't even sure why she was so worried - this wasn't a big deal. She took a tiny bit of her pale tights between her fingertips and let it snap back to her legs in an attempt to occupy her hands, that would otherwise be clamped to her waist. It wasn't a bad kind of nervous, more like excited… or worry that she would mess up again. She didn't always want to be known as the only ballet dancer who couldn't do this.
She grumbled and straightened as the door to the studio opened.
"Fakir!" She smiled.
"You ready?" She murmured again and bit her lip, fidgeting as he approached with a pair of shoes in hand. They were new, built to fit her feet as if they were Cinderella's glass slippers, and the satin shone in the pale light that filled the room through the large windows. It was early in the morning, and there was a light mist hugging the town so that the grounds sparkled with dew, and the light was pearly and the air glowed.
"What's wrong?" He frowned at the small girl. "You've done a lot of practice with the demi-pointe shoes."
"I know but…" Ahiru sighed. "I'm just kind of nervous."
"That's stupid. Don't be."
He sunk onto one knee and prompted her to lift her foot as he slipped on the first shoe, and then the second in a smooth movement, holding her slim ankles tenderly. She watched as he tied the ribbons across her ankles as her foot rested upon his knee, and felt the warmth of his hands at her skin, only separated by an imperceptible layer of nylon. She did perceive the way he was slow to tie the pink strands, and how he bowed his head as if to feel her own faint warmth more closely at her leg, and how his hands were supple, and moved up her calf when he'd finished with one just so he could hold on a little longer as he led her other foot up onto his knee to finish tying that shoe also.
She wanted to wriggle her toes when he finally stood, surveying her with a critical eye and letting a smile tug at the corners of his mouth, but she didn't and instead laughed, a high and nervous sound. She looked at him with a blanched face.
"Don't be such a chicken, little duck."
She pouted, and he had to chuckle at that. That seemed to motivate her so she puffed out her chest - were she covered in feathers at this point it may have looked vaguely impressive, though if she actually really was covered in feathers, a duck, her size and generic cuteness would have diminished the effect - and stood with her feet pointed downwards. This only lasted a moment before she wobbled and clutched the wooden bar beside her for support. She giggled and then her face fell.
"Fakir! I'm just never going to be able to do it!" She kept trying but even with the demi-pointe shoes she was no good. Ahiru just felt miserable thinking about how bad she was at this. Why did she even agree to try doing en pointe? She'd let Fakir sew in her ribbons properly just because she couldn't co-ordinate her fingers and thumb, and he may have appeared begrudging but clearly he didn't mind if he went ahead and did so, and she'd been silly enough to let him and her friends convince her to try doing this. Fakir was staring at her with cold eyes and she looked to the floor.
"Yes you can." He softened. "I'll stand behind you so you won't fall. You're a dancer, just try and you'll do it."
"I'm not the real dancer."
"She's everything you can and will be. It's hard to do but you'll manage. Now try again."
"Hm…" After a moment her expression brightened once more and she turned to him with a sweet smile that forced him to cough in a pathetic excuse to cover his face and find a way to stop looking because he doubted she's ever been able to make him blush so fast. "Thank you, Fakir!"
"Idiot…" He muttered.
She rose again, her body stretched out as if reaching to the high ceiling, and she raised her arms into third position before she felt her knees ache and her toes stab with pain, and she staggered back onto flat feet. She felt Fakir's arms brush her side gently where he stepped forward to steady her.
He didn't speak, but placed his hands at her waist lightly to assure her, but only increased her fluster. She barely even lifted her heels off the floor before returning to her huddled stance with a small whimper of annoyance and pain. She inhaled deeply and tried yet again, and became increasingly disgruntled. Why couldn't she just do it? This was nothing to be scared about! If she didn't even try all that was left was disappointment, so better to do it, right?
Right…?
She bit her lip.
"Why so yellow?"
She shot him a glare. He laughed and crouched lower over her shoulder, noting how the skin of her neck reddened only a little at the proximity. This was of course in order to dismiss his own flaring cheeks despite how he had intended to approach this in an entirely professional manner.
"Come on, try for a little longer." He held her waist again as she rolled onto her toes quickly, and lifted her arms out in front of her, then above her head.
She trembled and Fakir counted under his breath as she held her position for a few seconds, moving a hand away from her waist so only one sat there, not supporting her small weight at all but just to steady her, and even that he moved away before she returned to the resting position with a sigh. She felt him take hold of her once again, and the weight of his hands curving into her body was comforting. She smiled to herself. She could do this.
She needed no more encouragement, and she let her body simply rise, as if she were about to take flight. She hesitated to move her arms upward, keeping them to her sides to aid her balance, and was glad when a few seconds became nearly twenty, and she fought to push her limit. This… wasn't so bad. She didn't know why she was so scared to try this before. Perhaps she really had let those things Pique and Lilie said go to her head… Or maybe she was simply scared that she could never be as good as she was, that Fakir would always be comparing her to Tutu when she was simply a normal girl, a duck, even. But no, there was no reason to be nervous. She had practiced a lot and had worked hard despite lagging behind in class. And there was nobody here to criticise her, only Fakir, and he never saw her as anything apart from herself.
"Hmm," Ahiru made a small pained sound as she let her concentration slip and trembled, hands curled into fists before she spoke with a slightly strained breath. "Fakir, I'll try by myself now."
He smirked, arms folded, but there was a gentle kindness in his eyes as he looked at how hard she was trying. "I let you go a minute ago."
"Huh?" Her eyes widened and she looked down to her feet, all but the tips of her toes connected to the tiled flooring.
The wailed quacking sound was heard only moments before an ungainly thump.