Chiaki/Maron – Line of Red
Rating: K
Maron works through her routine twice for good measure, once really isn't enough. She runs through the familiar motions with a selected piano piece as her music.
The CD whirls into play with a wry click, opens the track, kills the morning silence of the gymnasium.
Maron springs into the familiar movements easily, familiar like a lover's, a dancer's talent etched into her bones. She twirls the crimson ribbon around, flicks it, spins it, her actions graceful without pause, neither relief.
She falls into effortless leaps, rotations and whirls. Sweat beads down her brow, down the sides of her face, but god's sent daren't stop.
Maron spins into rotation to throw the ribbon upwards into the air, only to have the end jerked back down to earth instead.
The unexpected tug causes her to topple over onto the ground. Maron loses rhythm, loses momentum. The pull sends her landing directly into Chiaki's arms, crashes them against the floor.
A line of red falls over their bodies, a tie that forms binding them together. It is then that the track decides to click into a stop.