A/N: This is more of an accumulation of the tango!AU I concocted while watching the series. This idea wouldn't leave my head and I thought about writing it all out before I lost inspiration. I tried to keep it under 10k and one chapter but it didn't turn out that way. It's beyond that number and in these long chapters.
I used some tango terminology which might not be correct. Just letting you guys know.
Thank you all for reading.
-Lucicelo
Part 1
Hayabusa leaned against the wall, inspecting his advanced class. The chosen music filled the studio, giving the example of rhythm for his students to use in their dance. His sharp eyes caught the slightest misstep. Keeping his observations fair, he commented on those particular students. They straightened up, corrected their form, and continued on dancing. He picked up no scathing remarks or complaints from those he pointed out. The experienced dancers had gotten lessons from more demanding teachers.
He taught them of his teaching methods. The small preview he gave in the first lesson presented his expectations. No nonsense and complete focus. His delinquent past came out through his tone and demeanor. Scaring the newer people into trepidation and respect. Not that he advertised his past, his certifications spoke for him.
His trophies stayed with his father in a nice glass display case. It seemed ridiculous to keep them in storage and his apartment held no open space. His father showed them with pride toward anyone who asked. Too bad his younger brothers didn't gain a love for dancing. They enjoyed seeing him stomp out the competition throughout the years.
Their bond strengthened they helped him after his accident. He moved back into his father's apartment and his little brothers waited on him. On some days, he added more demands but he kept them leveled. His brothers saw it as a way to repay him when he used to look after them. A touching gesture on their part.
He shifted his gaze in between his students, landing on his newest talent. His student soaked in his suggestions and applied them into his dance. Picking up on the newest choreography while others struggled. Yet, he struck out of the technical aspects and added his own spin to his movements. A natural passion for dancing showed through once he stepped onto the dance floor.
Atsushi Maeda, Acchan, brought a new flavor to his group. A kid with the same past as himself and got out of his trouble making ways. He showed promise from the starter class and rose up into his advanced class. Atsushi continued his courses once he saw the benefit of keeping his mind busy. He won some competitions and strove to enter into the big leagues. Coming from someone who previously held no ambitions and found dancing undesirable, he placed his practices to a high standard. He dove into dancing once he threw off his preconceived notions.
Atsushi turned into his protégé. The one he paired with his best students whenever the season started.
He winced at the wrong placement of the feet from Atsushi's partner. One from his intermediate class. It was obvious that she didn't practice whilst at home. She almost tripped but Atsushi held her upright before she fell onto her face. Atsushi soothed her concerns and showed her the right positioning of their feet. Her body's tension went down and they continued on dancing.
If only Atsushi found a suitable partner. Atsushi wasted his time going through his different classes. No one managed to keep up with his ever changing dancing style. The friends Atsushi made throughout the circuit had their own partners or resided overseas. This gave him a small window of finding someone just to give him enough time to schedule enough practice meeting.
This bad luck streak might turn into Atsushi's downfall for the year.
Hayabusa clapped his hands. "Alright. Not bad. We can use more improvement on the cardio. I can hear some of you wheezing from where I'm standing." Those select few hunched their shoulders in embarrassment. "We're done for today. Thank you. Class dismissed." He heard scatters of relief in between his students. Last week, he held them for an extra hour for slacking off. "Before I forget, Acchan, stay behind for a bit."
"Got it." Atsushi waved at his classmates before jogging toward his teacher. "What's up? Something wrong?" He grasped the collar of his shirt and wiped the sweat from his brow.
"According to the sign up sheet, you haven't picked your partner for the next competition. You told me months ago that you wanted to join in this time. This is your chance to break into the big leagues. What's the hold up? Backing out on me?"
Atsushi rubbed the back of his neck, scowling, he explained. "No luck on finding my partner. I tried looking throughout the different classes you give but no one fits my style. I got it with Yagi but she quit after the last competition. Her parents insisted that she focus on university instead of dancing."
Hayabusa sighed. "Yeah, I get it. Most parents don't want their kids dedicating their lives in dancing unless it brings in the money. Financial stability and all that shit." He rubbed his leg when a twinge of pain passed through his old injury. "Give me a heads up when you find your partner. You'll need all the practice to get the technique down with this new one."
"Yeah, yeah," Atsushi glanced down at Hayabusa's leg, he swallowed his words of concern. "I'll keep my phone charged in case you call me for something."
Smoke drifted through the air, clogging the senses. Different groups of eyes started at Hayabusa as he walked through the area. Keeping his eyes hard, his face stone cold, he ignored their jeers. He heard worse commentary and none of it fazed him. In his younger years, he popped off through few words, now, he kept himself calm. His attitude went onto dancing which strengthened his determination to win.
Once Aiko Maeda explained the exact location, he went to the spot his new student frequented. She gave him a photo reference and a familiar hang out that delinquents hung around. Nostalgia came upon him, he remembered hanging around these parts with old friends. Ditching class, smoking anywhere they pleased, going against anyone who stepped on their fun.
It never failed to surprise him when parents signed kids up to his class without them knowing. The reluctance of those students gave him extra money without the student. In all honesty, he felt bad in keeping the money. Once the student failed to attend one lesson, he gave them a chance to explain themselves.
He spotted the red beanie without much trouble. Atsushi sat in the middle of a bleach blond and another with a high messy ponytail. "Atsushi Maeda." Hayabusa stopped a good distance from the trio, his arms crossed over his chest. He stood his ground, connecting eyes with Atsushi. "You missed your lesson."
"Who?" Mario hit his palm when he remembered. "Ah, Acchan."
"I actually forgot that was your name." Kenken snickered. "Only your parents use it. What lessons are you taking bud? Why didn't you tell us?"
"I don't know." Atsushi turned to Hayabusa, he blew out a line of smoke. "What lessons?"
"I'm Hayabusa Shou. Tango instructor and retired dance champion. Your name is in my roster."
Atsushi narrowed his eyes, he got into a crouching position. "So? I didn't sign up for anything. Whoever signed me up was playing a joke on you or something. How'd you know where to find me?"
Hayabusa cracked his knuckles into his palm. "Before you think of running off, your mother already paid for three months of classes. She called me to collect you when she found out you ditched. You're wasting your mother's hard earned money with this stunt."
"What?!" Atsushi shot up straight and snapped at him. "I won't take a step into your sissy ass class. I don't know what my mom told you but I'm not going to go to your lessons. Ma wasted her money. Take it and leave me alone."
Hayabusa eyebrow twitched. "You're testing my patience."
"Like I give a—"Atsushi's eyes widened at the speed Hayabusa displayed when he charged at him. Hayabusa grasped his arm, twirled him around and slammed him onto the ground. Atsushi struggled in removing himself from Hayabusa's hold, he hid this shame through a weak attempt at bravado. "L-Let me go old man!"
Kenken and Mario stood up to help but a glare from Hayabusa stopped them cold. A shiver crawled up their spine. The intent of no mercy showed through Hayabusa's eyes and posture.
Hayabusa tightened his grip, Atsushi hitched his breath in pain. "Didn't think a dancer could overpower you?" He received a defiant glare but the struggles ceased. "8823 doesn't take shit from anyone. Do you understand?"
Atsushi's eyes widened in recognition. "Y-You are him?"
Mario piped up in shock. "I heard you went to prison."
Kenken added in. "Yeah that's what I heard too. The other was knocking up some chick and working."
"A kid? Nope, sorry to disappoint." Hayabusa smirked. "I left my old life behind after getting into the tango scene. I offer my class to anyone, even the kids I used to overshadow back in high school." He pressed Atsushi even more into the ground. "Now Maeda...are you going to cooperate or not? Who knows? You might even enjoy dancing the tango."
To salvage his wounded pride, he conceded in defeat. "I guess..not like I'll be any good at it."
"Great." Hayabusa released Atsushi from his hold and pulled him up from the floor. He showed no strain from his muscles, impressing the trio. "Classes start at four. Depending on the day, my classes pass the two hour mark." He patted Atsushi's chest with his fist. "Don't you dare miss another one of my classes again. Got it?"
"Yeah! Got it." Atsushi nodded his head, he shared an amazed expression with his friends.
"Before I forget," Hayabusa told him. "Bring sweatpants or tights. You're not dancing in skinny or baggy jeans." Atsushi grimaced, he readied himself to argue when Hayabusa stopped him. "I'll give you one of the tightest tights I have in retaliation if you fail to comply. I'll even force you to change into them in front of the class. Don't test me."
In self preservation, Atsushi kept his mouth shut.
Kenken and Mario burst into laughter.
Through the high beat music, Fukase scrutinized the newest partner for his champion. His nails dug crescent moon shaped marks into his arm. He despised having to admit that he made an error in picking this girl for Sakamoto. His school produced the best and brightest. These sudden flops did a number on his respected record of perfection. His temper rose up. The anger showed through his callous words. No use exploding when it did nothing more than scare them.
Juri Ouka's previous partner, paled against her swift and sharp dancing. She rose up through the ranks and seemed perfect enough to stand next to Sakamoto. He pulled her aside and handed her a new training template for her. Once she landed in Sakamoto's arms, she lost her sense of control and stumbled through the easiest steps. She deescalated from her bright start into a love sick fool.
The elevated glorification of Sakamoto worked against him. His perfect features and talent in dancing made him a prime partner for starry-eyed fans. Some held no talent to stand next to Sakamoto in the first place. His last name brought people who wanted nothing more than the fame from the association alone.
All in all, Fukase grew tired of having to repeat the same critiques again.
"Juri you missed the step again! Did you not practice when you returned home? The intermediate students have grasped this concept down!" Fukase commented. "Straighten up and restart! Replay the music! Again!"
Juri's hands gripped her partner's shoulders, she gritted her teeth. The surrounding envious girls giggled from her reprimand. She saw the smugness of her current dilemma, none of them hid their satisfaction. Fukase did nothing to quiet them. From where he stood, she saw his amusement at her discomfort and irritation.
Letting go of Sakamoto, she backed away from him. "I-I'm so sorry." She apologized to Sakamoto, avoiding his gaze. "I don't know what's wrong with me today."
"It's quite alright." Sakamoto bowed, the girls cooed at his gentleness. "We all have our bad days. Shall we continue?"
Juri found it hard to believe that Sakamoto had any bad days. She watched him go through his practices, showing no strain or breaking a sweat. He accomplished the moves way faster than the rest of them. His champion parents added another layer of talent into him. Elevating him over the rest of their class. No wonder Fukase spent a lot of his time on him.
The rest of them could only dream of developing such qualities.
She nodded her head regardless of her thoughts. "Sure. Let's start this again." They resumed their original pose and danced the routine. Less mistakes happened this time around but the tension remained in the room.
Fukase coughed into his hand, gaining Sakamoto's attention. "That's enough. Sakamoto, we have to talk."
"Yes, Fukase-san. I'll talk to you tomorrow, Ouka-san." Sakamoto left Juri alone to the glaring eyes of the other girls.
Standing in front of Fukase's desk, Juri fiddled with the ends of her sweater. She tried not to buckle from the tense atmosphere. His drumming nails echoed throughout the room. Fukase warned her about getting in the way of Sakamoto's practices. She heard the same words whenever a new person entered into a partnership with Sakamoto. Male or female. Talent took precedence over the gender of the person dancing with Sakamoto.
The moment Fukase offered her a partnership with Sakamoto, she boasted about her success to the other dancers. She relished in having them envious of her. She remembered being on the outside looking in. Her own nasty comments on the last girl who replaced Aina. The dancers in Fukase's dance studio waited for the chance for the new partner to slip up. Giving them a chance to slide in to fill in the spot. Having opportunities handed to them due to the association.
Her thoughts of grandeur were far beyond her reach. Ideals and
Throughout the years, Juri heard stories of Fukase ruining careers. Different levels in the circuit. Some petrified in having their stories leaked to the press. She thought these people retold these stories to scare her off. Their own failures ended their careers not through mere gossip. Fukase's dance academy ranked high in the spectrum. He developed award winners and they went off to win multiple competitions.
Standing in front of him, she realized the truth in their words. Fukase spared no time in cutting off the students that wasted his time. She saw it first hand, fascinated in Fukase's cutthroat methods. He silenced those he dismissed, keeping an ear out to the gossip blogs in the dance scene. One word from him and dancers lost their careers due to his influence
She assumed he valued her above the rest of the discarded partners. No. She filled a spot. A speckle in the spectrum of Fukase's vision. His continuous comments brought a realization on her. He grew tired of testing her, picking her apart.
Fukase lit up a cigarette, making Juri wrinkle her nose at the smell. "Sakamoto has no need for you anymore." He blew a line of smoke in her direction, not caring about her disgust.
Once the smoke cleared, she processed his words. "W-What did you say?"
"I suggest attaining another partner. You see, I have spoken to him about this in detail and he sees my vision. I'll find another one to match up with him. No hard feelings, right?" Fukase smiled, his voice left no room for argument.
Juri jerked a nod, she shivered from the intensity of his eyes. She always found them creepy. Borderline red and cold. "O-of course, I'll find someone new before the week is over." The illusion of grandeur with Sakamoto on her side shattered before her eyes. She didn't dare contradict Fukase.
"Excellent."
Fukase observed the lesson at a fair enough distance. The instructor's old mentor invited him over to check up on the new promising talent. Boasting on landing the Sakamoto duo's only son under their wing. Curious, he made the journey, staying in the background. Making no attempt at revealing himself.
The instructor's commands and hand gestures aggravated his ears. He competed against this pompous know-it-all quite often and the man lost to him in each time. It brought a one-sided rivalry. Non-threatening and insignificant. He returned none of the sentiment. Not that it stopped him from addressing the man's many faults in front of certain company. His old coach ignored his antics, the awards he won shadowed anything else he did behind the scenes.
His connections and standing elevated his words over a talentless coach. He observed Sakamoto's attempts at hiding his frustration from his eyes. He smirked. Leaning back, he focused on Sakamoto's graceful form. A student wanting to go up in the scene jumped at the chance for a new coach to lead them in the right track. Knowing about the famous Sakamoto duo, they expected nothing but the best for their son.
Once the lesson ended, the coach left Sakamoto in the dance floor. Giving him no parting words nor any pointers on improvement. Fukase noticed several jarring areas, Sakamoto's chest heaved more than it should. Tiring him out faster on the dance floor. Sakamoto needed to run in the mornings to help out his cardio.
Making sure the coast was clear, Fukase approached Sakamoto and introduced himself. "A pleasure to meet you, I'm Fukase."
"I'm Sakamoto—" The screams of children running past the building cut him off. "My apologies, it's a pleasure to meet you as well."
"Why do you tolerate him?"
"Him?"
"The guy who just left." Fukase drummed his fingers on his forearm. "He seems—neglectful of your talent—very dismissive."
Sakamoto glanced back at Fukase, informing him. "Mother and father hired him for me. He's an old friend of theirs who stayed in the same circles. He promised to help me through my starting years."
"It's not nice of him to lie to such a promising student. I'll have a talk with your parents. They will agree with letting me teach you once they see my trophies and certifications." Fukase showed an award winning smile, innocent and not intimidating. "You deserve a better teacher than someone who hinders your potential."
"Hinders?"
Fukase hid his glee well. "Yes. I have witnessed his performances. He skips warm ups and doesn't see the benefit of extra practices. Sloppy and disorganized. Flashy outfits disguise his meager attempts in going against his betters. How about it?"
Sakamoto hesitated. "He's stayed with me throughout this season. My parents trust him..."
"Just because he had one semi decent pair, doesn't mean he can elevate you." Fukase wagged his finger, tutting. "Take my advice to heart. I have beaten him every single time I have faced him. Quite a lousy streak—wouldn't you say?"
"I see." Sakamoto pushed up his glassed with his fingers. "I'll tell my parents on my request to switch into your tutelage. May I have your contact information?"
Hayabusa entered through the threshold of his usual bar. He greeted the regulars with a wave and shut the door behind him. The volume of the music gave the customers a chance to talk without raising their voices. A relaxed atmosphere to de-stress on the struggles out of the outside world. Running a dance school brought him enough stress where an alcoholic drink with good company rose his spirits. He could always drink at home but he lived alone. No brothers to drunkenly sing karaoke or his father sleeping on his couch.
At least in the bar, he got a semblance of activity surrounding him. He knew his limit quite well and cut himself off before walking back home. He frequented this bar in particular due to the short distance from his apartment complex. Saved him money from having to call a taxi to take him home. The walk helped him strengthen the muscles in his bad leg. His doctor advised him on light cardio work in the gym. These small walks fulfilled his exercise.
As he neared the counter, he saw a familiar figure blowing out a line of smoke. At least, he thought he recognized the person from somewhere. Daring himself to some social interaction, he got closer, wanting to catch the glimpse of the man's face. His usual smile tipped down when he saw the man's profile. Clear as day. His rival-who-kissed-decent-okay-he-kissed-amazingly-well, sat in his view of vision.
"Oh c'mon," Hayabusa gritted his teeth, hard enough that he almost bit through his cigarette. "What the hell is he doing here?" He attempted a swift retreat until Fukase turned and smirked in his direction. It always seemed like Fukase knew whenever he got close to him. "Ugh."
"Ah, Hayabusa." Fukase's slippery voice traveled to Hayabusa's ears. "No need to leave on my account. Come sit down. I'll order you a drink. My treat." He patted the seat right beside him.
Hayabusa convinced himself on tolerating Fukase's company for that drink. "Fine." He sat down in the seat on the other side of Fukase out of spite. "Out of all the bars in this city—"
Fukase drawled. "I'm doing just fine, thank you. How are you doing, Hayabusa? Anything new?" Hayabusa gained the attention of the bartender and ordered his drink. "Don't you dare ignore me." Hayabusa waited for his drink and puffed at his cigarette. "Shou."
The bartender placed his whiskey onto the table.
"Alright, alright," Hayabusa sipped his drink, he gave Fukase a nasty look due to the usage of his name. "What do you want?"
Fukase tenderly smiled. "Who says I want anything? Maybe I want your company. We haven't seen each other in almost two years."
"Doubt it." Hayabusa gulped more of his alcohol, his throat and chest warmed up. "Fess up."
Fukase's eyes gleamed. "You always see through my bullshit. Very well. Give me one of your students."
"You want one of mine?" Hayabusa blew a line of smoke into the air. "Why? You boasted your newest prodigy during our last encounter. A new award winning dancer. Doesn't make mistakes in any of his routines. Regretting that boasting shit?"
"Nope. He's perfect. Considering the legacy his parents left behind, I expected nothing less." He swirled his whiskey before sipping. "His parents were an award winning dance couple. They retired after the birth of their son and lead him into this path. He learned from the best and I've molded his image to better heights."
Hayabusa rolled his eyes, Fukase loved hearing himself talk. He tapped his cigarette into the ash tray. "And? Your point? Get on with it."
"Sakamoto's technical movements continue to jar with my second best dancer. He needs someone to push him out of the safe zone. Get him to feel the true art of dancing." Fukase licked his lips, setting the glass onto the coaster, he continued. "Sakamoto's last competition ended in disaster. Don't get me wrong, Aina was spectacular but they clashed in pivotal moments. I hinted at a new venture in the music industry. Her manager saw a bright opportunity to bring in more money."
"Pft, I'm sure you payed her manager to pull her out before she embarrassed your studio again." Hayabusa gulped down his whiskey, warming his throat and chest. "I don't understand what you mean by disaster. They almost got a perfect score and got high compliments from the judges."
"Complimenting me? How sweet of you." Fukase leaned close to Hayabusa's face.
"I was complimenting Aina and Sakamoto, not you." Scrunching his nose from their closeness, Hayabusa scooted away on his seat. "I'm not pushing one of my students into your grasp. You'll ruin them."
Fukase sighed. "Ah—I'm not a horrible teacher. My consistent list of award winning pupils argues against your claim. I don't train time wasters."
"In other words, those who pay you a substantial amount of money for your methods." Hayabusa snuffed out his cigarette. "Why should I grant your request? Give me one good reason."
"You owe me." Fukase smirked, he reached out his hand and played with a strand of Hayabusa's bangs. "I covered your ass when your partner got herself knocked up months before the main competition in Argentina."
Hayabusa narrowed his eyes. "You're using your big favor on a partner for your star? Odd. I was so sure you'd want something much bigger."
Fukase used the back of his fingers to caress his cheek. "Hmm? What did you think I would use my favor on? A date? A kiss?"
Hayabusa observed Fukase before turned his attention back on his drink, "Not even close. You don't need to use a favor for those things." He diverted the tide of their conversation. "One problem. My main star is a guy."
Fukase took back his hand and drank his whiskey. "The rules in competitions are lax now. There are more same sex pairs popping up in the circuit. It's more common overseas. Gender is no problem."
"This is perfect timing for them." Hayabusa mused. "I'm sure they will switch around as the lead."
"Good. I'll send word to my student." Fukase stood up and placed a wad of bills on the counter. "We'll be in touch." He walked off, leaving Hayabusa gaping behind in his seat.
Hayabusa shouted after him. "I never said yes!"
Hayabusa slumped against his plush seat. The craving for a cigarette heightened up from the stress. Every attempt he made in finding Atsushi a partner had turned into failure. His one chance came with Fukase's student and hated having to depend on him. Fukase appeared back into his life in the right moment. Convenient timing. He rubbed his eyes and groaned out loud.
He thought Fukase forgot about the favor he owed him. In fact, he hoped Fukase never cashed it in. He hated having to owe the man anything. Back in his younger years, he remembered Fukase's method of extorting the favors out of people. Making others weary of asking Fukase for any help. The rumor spread around but it didn't stop people from taking a chance.
Fukase loved teasing him. He remembered the taunts as well as his compliments. His tender smile after they shared a brief kiss. Sometimes, it lead onto more—exploration in the back of the locker room. His skin burned in the places he kissed and bit. He never fooled himself into thinking Fukase cared for anything or anyone. The man saw anyone as a game or a conquest.
To his overall confusion, Fukase showed fits of jealousy when he learned of his last date. A handsome Spainiard he met during his stint in Barcelona. He stayed in Japan on vacation to further their relationship. Fukase's sneering comments ceased after the guy dropped him after his accident.
Fukase lent him an outlet for his anger and frustration. His accident left him unable to dance for long periods of time. Rumors spread fast and his sort-of-ex elevated as number two in the ranks. He missed the fury growing in his those glowing red eyes.
He heard around the grapevine that his ex's reputation went down the tubes. Having long suspected that Fukase spread the misdeeds, he kept silent about it. No way condoning his powers of persuasion.
Seeing him again brought back old feelings he tried to repress.
"I never received a call to set up our appointment."
Hayabusa straightened up, turning his gaze toward the door. "Fukase, what the hell are you doing here?"
Fukase closed the door behind him. "A week has passed since our encounter at the bar. You know as well as I do that I never changed my number. What's the hold up? The competition is on the horizon and we need to train our students." He leaned against the door. "Shou, I'm waiting. Tick tock."
Feeling trapped, Hayabusa snapped to get him to leave him alone. "Fine, I'll call him. Just leave before anyone else sees you."
Fukase went up to Hayabusa's desk with a grin. "Glad you see it my way." He ripped up a piece of paper from Hayabusa's desk and wrote down the address. "I moved my studio into a different building. The old one had leaky ceilings which screwed up the wooden flooring." He placed the paper in Hayabusa's hand, his touch lingering for a moment longer. "Tell him not to be late."
Hayabusa rolled his eyes, "He knows better than to keep people waiting. He's never late. I'll even come earlier to assess your student for myself. Now, shoo. I won't have my students question why you're here."
Fukase leaned forward. "Why? Everyone knows that we have a—close relationship. Unless, my presence flusters and inconveniences you."
"You wish." Hayabusa lifted himself up from his chair.
"Give me your student's name." Fukase leaned back. "I'd like to research him a bit before our meeting."
Hayabusa answered. "Atsushi Maeda. Look, I'll hand you the tapes of his performances. Save you the trouble. A lot of his stuff has not gone up on the net."
Fukase placed a hand on Hayabusa's shoulder, Hayabusa shivered. "How kind of you. Will you hand them to me now or later?"
Hayabusa shrugged off Fukase's hand. "Now. Be right back."
Atsushi read the address given to him and compared it to the sign. The numbers matched up to the massive building in front of him. He tipped his head back and his neck strained from trying to see to the top. He wore his usual sweat pants and tank top combo. He carried his dancing shoes and comfortable socks in his backpack, no use wearing them out in public. Half the time, he went in flip flops to his practices and switched his footwear after he warmed up.
He entered the building. In the lobby, he saw a large clock presenting the time. His eyes widened the limited space he had before he was considered late. He checked around for the elevators and found the area. Almost running, he saw a tall man stepping inside the last elevator.
"Hey! Hold the elevator!" Atsushi bolted forward and the person inside held it open for him. He managed to get inside and regained his breath. "Thanks!" He got a better look at the guy and his heart skipped a beat.
The man smiled light. "It's not a problem. Glad to help you. Now, which floor are you going?" Atsushi uttered it out. "Ah, so it's the same one as mine. Saves us the trouble of stopping in different floors." He pressed the button and elevator moved up.
Atsushi tried not to ogle at the perfect looking man standing beside him. This never happened before. From all the good looking before he saw in the tango scene, none of them gave him this sort of reaction. Gulping, he turned his attention back onto his phone. He forgot to change his wallpaper from his old one. A photo of him during one of his competitions. He presented his first place trophy and put up a peace sign while his parents beamed, pride showed through their smiles.
"Is that you?"
Atsushi turned his attention from his phone toward Sakamoto. "Y—Yes."
"I see,"
After those two words, silence permeated the elevator.
Atsushi commented. "Are you meeting someone in the floor we're both going to?" He cringed at his stupid question, he averted his eyes and stared at the wall.
Sakamoto tipped his head up and down. "Yes, I'm meeting my instructor here." He pushed up his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Leaving you as my new partner or his instructor."
Atsushi rubbed the back of his neck. "Knowing Hayabusa, he's already here, wanting to pounce on me for being late." He put out his hand, smiling real big. "I'm Maeda Atsushi but, you can call me Acchan. Almost everyone calls me that name. The only people who call me Atsushi are my parents." Sakamoto shook his hand. "What's yours?"
"Sakamoto—" The elevator stopped and a loud bell interrupted Sakamoto.
Once the doors opened, they heard Hayabusa yell out. "That better be you in that elevator, Acchan! I'm not about to make up excuses if you were late! You'd make me look bad." Atsushi laughed nervously as Hayabusa made his appearance. "Good. Hurry up and get settled. Warm up real well too. I don't want you cramping up."
"Alright, alright. Damn, you nag more than my mother."
Hayabusa crackled his knuckles. "Did you say anything to me, brat?"
"N-Nothing." Atsushi hurried out and went toward a free area near a window.
Hayabusa huffed, staring at Atsushi with fondness. "Brat." He turned toward Sakamoto, inspecting him. "You must be Fukase's student, you're taller than I expected. Alright then, go and warm up with Acchan. I'll need to access you as well before we continue on with this partnership."
Sakamoto bowed. "It's no problem. Thank you for having me." He stepped out the elevator and met up with Fukase. They chatted for a moment before he went toward Atsushi and began his warm ups.
Hayabusa handed Fukase a bottle of water. Fukase sent him a genuine smile and unscrewed it before taking gulps. They watched their students do their warm ups. Whispering comments to each other, their eyes never strayed from Sakamoto and Atsushi. Some differences showed in between the both of them. From their stretches to their movements. Sakamoto showed his swift perfect moves while Atsushi's passion showed in his twists and turns.
Hayabusa whistled, giving the pair a thumbs up. Fukase didn't jest when he claimed his student exceeded expectations. "Good job boys! Keep it up! Get that heart pumping!"
Atsushi waved, grinning while passing them on his slight jog around the studio. Seeing that he warmed up enough, Atsushi went to his backpack, leaving Sakamoto alone. Sakamoto nodded with a slight quirk of the lips, gliding along the dance floor. He went into more difficult moves,
Impressed at Hayabusa's student, Fukase nodded his head. Atsushi still showed kinks but he caught them and moved past them. A student who learned from his own mistakes. In the video Hayabusa gave him, instructor and student bickered but Atsushi implemented Hayabusa's advice. Hayabusa knew how to the pick the ones who meshed with his own dancing style.
One thing struck out to him, Atsushi's sandals.
Fukase wrinkled his nose, he muttered into Hayabusa's ear. "Don't tell me he dances in flip flops? He'll twist an ankle before he tries any maneuvers. He fast ran in those things. Are you joking, Shou?" Almost sensing Fukase's comment, Atsushi waved his dancing shoes at their direction, giving him a smug smirk. "Cheeky little—"
Hayabusa leaned back, cutting Fukase before he finished his sentence. "I told you, he's my best student. He knows better than to dance without the proper footwear. I've taught him well. He only wears sandals when he warms up."
Fukase shrugged his shoulders. "Just don't have him twisting his ankle and we're fine. Having to replace another partner for Sakamoto has become tedious work. I have to say...he's not bad."
"What's this?" Hayabusa nudged Fukase's side. "You're complimenting one of my students?"
Fukase smirked. "Maybe. You picked well. I expected nothing less from you."
"Good to know I'm not disappointing you." He patted Fukase's cheek, Fukase's eyes glinted. "Underestimating me was one of your faults." He clapped his hands, gaining Sakamoto and Atsushi's attention. "Acchan! Get into formation!"
Fukase instructed Sakamoto. "Sakamoto, you lead first, then we'll let Maeda have his turn. No music this time."
"Yes, Fukase-san." Sakamoto said.
Atsushi went toward Sakamoto and stared up at him. "Think you can handle me?"
Sakamoto brushed his bangs to the side. "I'm sure."
They went into position. Holding hands, Atsushi placed a hand on Sakamoto's shoulder, Sakamoto's went onto Atsushi's waist. After Hayabusa clapped his hands again, they began moving. Going into a 8-step basic, they got a feel for each other. After a few turns, they went into more complicated poses. Atsushi grinned, letting himself flow along with the dance. He found himself enjoying being on the other side for once.
Hearing no critiques, they assumed their instructors got them to dance to get a feel for their execution of their movements. Seeing the connection and mesh up of different personalities. Judging them before solidifying to this partnership.
"Maeda-san?" Sakamoto muttered. "After a couple of turns, are you ready to switch into the lead?"
"I thought I told you to call me Acchan." Atsushi stuck out his tongue, Sakamoto's lips quirked up. He leaned forward, their chest brushed against each other. "None of this Maeda-san business. And yes, I'll take my turn in a little bit. Try not to lose breath before we're finished."
"Alright." Sakamoto pulled Atsushi's leg up the length of his own leg. "Atsushi-san."
Atsushi scowled. "You're a stubborn one, aren't you?" They transitioned into a front boleo before he entering a back boleo. "Fine, Sakamoto."
Their first practice went off much problems on Atsushi's end. He left feeling pumped up and relieved on having a partner.
Sakamoto's eyes boggled during certain points of Atsushi's turn to lead. He saw constant mistakes but Atsushi made up for it through his visible love of dance.
Atsushi finished his final stretch of the night before Aiko entered the living room. They shared smiles. She left him a large glass of warm water with lemon on the table. Observing him, she saw a vast difference from the boy who found dancing for sissies to a man who loved the sport. A majority of his old friends supported Atsushi. She sat next to them as they screamed Atsushi's name and held up signs.
They yelled their lungs out. Making their surrounding people jump at the volume of their voices. Their presence made Atsushi more confident in getting better in his scale in the world of tango. Despite Hayabusa's cool exterior, she caught him yelling at the top of his lungs. His insults held no malice, they were actually encouraging in a way.
Throughout the years, Hayabusa turned into a dear family friend. They interchanged which place they went to for the holidays every single year. Sometimes, Hayabusa's family came over to their apartment due to the space. It depended on their schedules and the holiday they managed to align.
She wondered about extending an invitation to Atsushi's new partner. Find out about how he entered the tango scene. Hayabusa told her that this time around, Atsushi's partner was a man. He didn't give out a name but he had other things to do. He must have forgotten to tell her.
Aiko inquired. "Done stretching for the night?"
"Yeah," Atsushi reached his hands up and leaned back, his bones popped. "Pops helped me out a little bit before he went to take his bath."
Aiko muttered. "He better not use all the hot water before I get back home." She leaned against the sofa Atsushi moved before he stretched his body out. "Hayabusa gave me the good news. Congrats, kid. Took you long enough to get to this point. All you needed was a good partner sticking at your side."
Atsushi grinned up at her. "This new guy seems pretty good. Hayabusa commented how he perfected the poses at the end of the moves. It seems a bit too much for me. He kept up with me just like Yagi. He doesn't lose his breath easily either."
"Oh no, you made him keep up with your fast pace." Aiko shook her head, she sighed in amusement. "Atsushi, you're going to run this one out before you even enter a competition. You're faster than the usual person."
"Nah." Atsushi waved it off. "His instructor was impressed that I didn't grow tired so fast. See? Running from other punks back in high school gave me the stamina for dancing."
Aiko rolled her eyes, "That's nothing to be proud of Atsushi." She smacked his shoulder and ruffled his sweaty hair. "Soak in the tub with bath salts. You don't need to wake up with aching muscles in the morning."
"Yes, ma."
Sakamoto sat down beside Kubota, placing a tray of drinks and snacks on the table. Kubota smiled at him, he bounced in excitement in seeing his newer videos. He observed his long time friend from the corner of his eyes. Kubota loosened his tie and set his blazer aside. His frame slimmed a bit from all the running around for his office job but he still retained his pudgy body.
Months passed since he last spent time with Kubota. On their last outing, they went to the temples at New Years. Hurrying through the crowd, reminiscing their brief time in high school. He got pulled out due to his parents insistent in home schooling. Kubota remained one of the few people who saw him as a person—not the son of the Sakamoto duo. These moments of free time were either spent in their respective homes or going for a nice dinner.
Kubota's presence brightened up his large home. His one true guest that he invited into his room. Inside his state of loneliness. He never expressed it but Kubota always seemed to sense his change of moods. The emptiness and silence of this place dampened his spirits. Without his parents hosting parties, the house felt vacant. In front of their friends, they pulled him aside to boast about his accomplishments.
Their brief presence in between trips made him distant toward them.
Kubota waited for his confirmation before he pressed play. Setting the remote aside, he asked. "Is this from your last competition?"
Sakamoto informed him. "Yes, this is the last one before I was paired up with this current one."
"Another one?"
"Yes."
"I don't understand how you end up with a new partner every couple of months." Kubota sighed. "This girl made a break in the scene from what you told me. Fukase-san doesn't teach those he doesn't find worthy."
Sakamoto placed his hands on his lap. "I know. It's frustrating—but I'm sure this new guy will manage. He jumps into the new steps without any fear. Almost like—he was made for dancing the tango."
"Oh." Kubota reached for his glass of iced tea and sipped. "Don't think too hard about it. A lot of people have natural talent like you. Tell me, did he know about you?"
"Me?"
"Your last name, Sakamoto-kun."
It dawned on Sakamoto, Atsushi didn't react to his name. "No. He didn't."
"That's a good sign. He won't swoon into your arms like the others." Once the music started playing on the video, Kubota's attention went onto the tv.
Watching the video, Kubota's eyes followed Sakamoto as he danced. He evaluated Sakamoto's movements and poses. Sure, he held no true opinion about dancing. Anytime he saw couples dancing the tango, waltz, etc, he was left in awe. He barely remembered the infinite moves or the proper way of executing them but—Sakamoto trusted him.
Taking long sips, he noticed Sakamoto carried most of the performance. Sakamoto's partner tripped on her feet but got saved when Sakamoto pressed her to his body. Making it seem that they went into this position on purpose. Sakamoto's eyes analyzed her and picked up any mistakes before she committed them. Too bad. He saw her performances before Sakamoto, she seemed flawless.
Once the video ended, Kubota informed Sakamoto. "You're doing a lot better in distributing your breath. You don't seem tired at the end of the performances anymore."
Sakamoto carded his fingers through his hair, he faced Kubota. "I see. Should I take more time on the treadmill? My new partner seems limitless on his breathing."
Kubota shook his head. "That's not what I meant. Sakamoto-kun, you've improved dramatically over the least few years. There's no need to hurry." He sipped his iced tea, smiling at the added peach flavor. "This tea is delicious. Thank you so much."
Atsushi checked the studio and found none of their instructors. "Hayabusa and Fukase are not here today? I thought they would be start giving us an idea on the choreography this time." He tossed his backpack against the wall and let out a yawn.
Sakamoto shook his head, he informed him. "No. Fukase-san sent me a message and told me to continue our practice without him. I'm not so sure about Hayabusa-san. Didn't he tell you anything?"
Atsushi checked his phone and cringed at the bombarded messages he received. "Yeah...I'm not listening to those. I don't need to hear them to know what he's telling me." He shuffled off his jacket and placed it on the floor alongside his backpack. Putting his phone in his pocket, he stretched his arms above his head. "Alright, should we get started."
"Of course, I'll wait right here. I already warmed up before you arrived." Sakamoto informed him as Atsushi went through his usual warm-up. "You're not sore?"
Atsushi bent one knee and stretched the other leg behind him. "Nope. I tend to stretch out when I get home. Hayabusa got me into yoga and sometimes my ma does it with me. My pops is too tense to try it himself. He thinks he'll break his back or something."
Sakamoto rolled his shoulders forward and backwards. "I have fallen out of practicing yoga. Learning to perfect the moves has taken precedence."
Atsushi began jogging in place. "You really shouldn't have done that. Trust me, it helps me relax in the mornings when I wake up. I tend to get anxiety before performances so it helps." Ten minutes passed and Atsushi pumped his fist. "Alright, I'm ready! Are you leading first or me?"
"I will." Sakamoto told him.
"Wait." Atsushi shifted through his cellphone and raised it to full volume. "I found a good song to accompany our practice for today. A classic but we have to start practicing with music. This way, we can time it with the beat of the song."
"Wonderful idea, Atsushi-san."
"It's Santa Maria." Atsushi pressed start, giving them a few seconds to get into position. He practically ran into Sakamoto's arms and they got into the starting position. "Ready?"
Sakamoto nodded his head.
At the first note of the song, they began moving. Sakamoto straightened himself up, they gliding along with each other in the usual formation. Letting themselves fall into the cues of the notes. It went along just fine.
Atsushi twirled with enthusiasm, going back into Sakamoto's arms, he was dipped. His left arm, waved gracefully over his head. Sakamoto lifted him up, their chests touched before they side stepped. Sakamoto and Atsushi went into a reverse embrace, going into amagues and caresses. Variances of different leg movements as they switched between them.
Atsushi broke from the trance of the song when he felt Sakamoto's eyes scrutinizing every detail. His stiffening body and stone face showed none of the emotions inside Sakamoto's body. Hayabusa always told him that the face expressed the intent in the song. Without this aspect, their combined dance shared no true value.
Atsushi grew annoyed as he exclaimed. "Sakamoto! Stop!"
Sakamoto raised a brow, he rested his hands on Atsushi's waist as they came to a complete stop. "Is there an issue?"
"Hell yes!" Atsushi uttered, he listed off what he thought. "You're too stiff. Loosen up a little, better yet, lose yourself into the music. It's not like you're in front of the judges or our teachers. You don't have to put up a front with me."
"Your dancing is spastic and unpredictable. Points will get taken from the score due to sloppiness." Sakamoto stared down into Atsushi's furious face. "Getting the technique down takes priority."
"Bullshit. I've won competitions with my dance moves. I have gotten accolades from the judges." Atsushi hissed out. "What the fuck happened? I thought we had an understand here!"
Sakamoto told him. "I held back my tongue in our last meeting due to the evaluation. Your leading jars with your partner."
Atsushi glared at him, he poked Sakamoto's chest. "I'm swift and fast. Something your instructor found impressive."
"Yet, it doesn't cover up these little mistakes popping up during your performance." Sakamoto informed him in a cool tone. "No need to get agitated, I simply wanted to tell you before you grow accustomed to falling into those mistakes."
Atsushi closed his eyes, taking a few steps back, he breathed through his nose. Hayabusa taught him great breathing exercises to control his temper. The old Acchan would have punched Sakamoto in the face. Yelled at the top of his lungs. Caring little about propriety.
That was the old Acchan, the new Acchan controlled himself.
"You know what, we'll meet again on another time." Atsushi removed himself from the situation, Grabbing his stuff, he went toward the door. "I'm not about get insulted by some robot pretty boy like you."
Sakamoto heard the elevator ding and the doors closing, signifying Atsushi's Maeda's departure from the studio.
TBC