Sway, shake… sway, shake… hip roll, body twist – leaaaaaaan back, hair flutter.
Her life revolved around movement.
When she was young – the movement of her best friend and his basketball.
In her teens, the movement of her own body.
Now, as a legal adult – the movement of her world.
Akashi Naitokurabu.
The business that her friend Kise was somewhat acquainted with – his modelling connections and all.
She applied for the job, and after a few performances, the boss decreed she was erotic and alluring enough to be a part of their staff.
She could only hope her family, nor her friends – never found out about it.
"Ugh. Big tits – who're you?"
Unsure whether to be flattered or insulted at the short haired woman's tone, Satsuki eyed the woman (barely a b-cup, she noted) sceptically.
"Momoi Satsuki. You?"
"Aida Riko. I'll be your partner."
"Okay."
"Oh, you bitch," hissed Riko, "your hip to breast ratio is perfect, you know that?"
"I do indeed," replied Satsuki smugly, jutting out her chest further to annoy her easily aggravated stage partner.
"Shut up. C'mon, let's practice one more time before our routine."
And what a routine it was – hip hop.
Baggy sweats, open tracksuit jackets and tight singlets.
Satsuki even had a hat to tuck her long hair into.
"Stop being so nervous," snapped Riko, "you shake your ass better when you're chilled. Here, have a shot."
Satsuki knew she shouldn't have been nervous – but it was her first performance, and she didn't want to fuck up (especially when the owner, Akashi, had announced he'd be watching from the upper levels of the club - all three levels of the club had a great view of the stage).
Finally- it was their turn.
When Satsuki and Riko stepped out, the stage was completely dark.
They stood with their backs to the rowdy crowd, waiting for the music to start.
"That's a new girl!"
"Fuck yes, I'm so excited!"
"Shake that ass!"
The spotlight flashed on as the song began, and immediately, Satsuki and Riko were in synchronisation.
From shaking their butts to lowering into perfectly timed twerks, the pair leapt and spun as the beat dropped.
Time meant nothing to the pinkette as she rolled her body, running her hands over herself as was expected.
The roar that went up when Riko snatched the hat off Satsuki's head was almost deafening to the performers, but the music only blared louder and they fell into their routine effortlessly.
Being the high class establishment that it was, the pink haired performer needn't worry about slipping on spare change as she commanded the stage, occasionally giving a boost to Riko so the acrobat could perform her tricks.
Despite the fact that only her hat had been discarded throughout the whole routine, the wild applause from the audience and even some screams from the female spectators was enormous. Satsuki had enough sense to strut off the stage before she looked like a bumbling fool.
Her individual routine was next.
Aha.
Sensuality.
That was Satsuki's talent – whether it be belly dancing, pole dancing, hip hop – any form of dance, and she could spin it her way, swish her hips and flick her long hair in just the right way.
She was making her debut with a belly dancing routine – and she could only hope the somewhat old fashioned music didn't turn away the crowds.
Taking a deep breath, she stepped onto the stage, bare feet jangling with anklets, hips adorned in shimmering belts, a veil over her face.
Hypnotizing.
That was the only way to describe the way she moved, Akashi thought, watching his latest investment as she finished her first individual routine.
His calculating gaze swept over the captivated audience, a cold grin on his face as he saw people filming, sending texts, calling their friends to 'come and see this', the 'amazing dancer'.
He'd have to thank Satsuki later.
For now he'd enjoy her second routine – a slow, seductive pole dance.
Pole dancing was hard.
Her muscles were always needed to the fullest extent, and her concentration even more so.
Nevertheless, the music distracted her from the difficulty, and helped her focus on performing.
It wasn't until her third routine that she noticed the security guards being called in to push away the hands that reached out for her on stage.
Untouchable.
That's what she'd have to be – Akashi knew that much.
She was like special merchandise – if she was made human, made real and tangible – her appeal would disappear, his investment would go to waste.
Yes, he liked her and he loved the untraceable zone she entered as the music sounded.
Not once did she make eye contact with anyone in the audience.
"Bite into me harder, sink your teeth into my flesh"
She didn't try to sing along or mouth the words – that's not why she was on stage.
She was there to tell a story, to express everything she thought through her body.
"So, the Friday night taken over by the two girls, eh?" questioned Akashi's uncle.
"Yes. The gamble I took paid off."
Friday was one of the busiest nights of the week, after all – and putting only females (and one newbie, at that) – was a risk in itself.
But the crowds went crazy for the dynamic duo, men and women alike drooling over the pair.
Riko's firm stare, her hard lines, tanned skin, short hair and ridiculous acrobatics.
And the newbie – the long, pale limbs, soft curves, long tresses, half-lidded eyes.
She was Momoi Satsuki, and she was going to make Akashi a lot of money.
Four months at Akashi Naitokurabu, and Satsuki was swimming in more money than she'd ever possessed in her whole life.
She moved into a new apartment closer to the club, bought herself a new car and even spent some money on some new outfits for new routines she was formulating.
"Holy shit, Satsuki," her navy haired friend whistled as he slinked into her new home, "what the hell kinda job makes you this much money?"
"Dancing professionally earns a lot when you're as good as I am, Aho," she grinned, throwing him a can of beer and nodding to the balcony, "Wanna soak in the Jacuzzi?"
Soon the two childhood friends were in the tub, sighing as the warm water relaxed them.
"I have a new partner," Aomine grumbled, "He's a fucking baka."
"Eh? What's he like?" yawned Satsuki, stretching.
"Hot headed. Impulsive. Tall – but I'm still taller-"
"Ha!" cried Satsuki, laughing, "Sounds just like you!"
"Fuck off, Satsuki!"
"Haha! Never!"
ONE YEAR LATER
They were celebrities. Riko was 21, and Satsuki was turning 20 in only a few weeks – but they had hit the status of stars.
The club became so busy that the two were forced to work some weekdays to train new dancers that were to perform on weeknights.
The duo's specialties were meant for Friday, Saturday and Sunday nights.
It was her star status that had Satsuki on edge – if anyone of her family and friends decided to look up her name on Google, there was no doubt they'd be assaulted with details of her job, even quotes from some of the many interviews she'd been in.
And the images… the images…oh lord.
She could only hope none of them were curious enough to resort to google after all of her evasive responses when they asked her about her job.
Thankfully, her mother and father were travelling abroad for as long as they could.
It was only her ex-basketball team she really needed to worry about.
"Momoicchi!" Kise's voice cried over the phone.
"What?" Satsuki groaned, still in bed.
"Come to that basketball shop in Mall Street, we're all waiting!"
"Fine. Be there in five," she yawned, not in the mood for dressing up.
A pair of sweats, a sweater and a loose bun later, she was out the door and on the train.
"Satsuki!" called Aomine from where he stood with Kise, Midorima and Murasakibara, "Tetsu's coming. But first-" he pointed to the crowd that had formed in front of the basketball store, "you're gonna street dance."
She raised an unamused brow, "Really? You lot don't even believe I have a rhythmic bone in my body – why do you want to see me dance all of a sudden?"
"We've never seen you dance, Momoicchi," whined Kise, pouting, "please?"
"Whatever," she shrugged, reaching up to snatch the hat off Murasakibara head, "I'll give this back later. Show me where it's at."
Painfully aware of the stares on her, and hoping that no one in this district really knew about her, Satsuki headed over to the clearing made for a pair of street dancers – one a guy and one a girl.
"Who's gonna challenge us?" shouted the woman, wearing something similar to Satsuki, "All you pansies too scared to risk your month's wage, eh?"
Stepping forward, Satsuki went to tucking her hair into the hat, "How's this work?"
"A challenger!" exclaimed the man, gathering more of a crowd, "You see," he began, stepping forward slowly, "these good people place a bet on you, or us," he gestured between them, "and we battle it out to see who wins."
"Uh-huh," nodded Satsuki, "and what do I get out of it?"
"The privilege of being beaten by us," laughed the woman good naturedly.
Though she should have been insulted, Satsuki could only smile – she liked the pair already.
"Righto. Tracks?"
The couple exchanged a look, "Random. Anyone have some music?"
A man – a very gangster-looking fellow – stepped forward and passed them his phone.
They plugged it into their dock and chose a song.
"Ready?" shouted the man to the applause of the crowd, "Let's do this, baby."
The beat started, and then the first lyrics, "3, 6, 9 damn you're fine – move it so you can sock it to me one more time…"
Satsuki nodded in approval as she watched the pair dance in synchronisation, they were impressive.
After about half a minute, they stopped and pointed to her as the crowd cheered.
Grinning, she began to dance, twisting her hat on her head, her usual sensuality coming through her movements.
Cheers and whistles – and then she looked back to the couple, who were grinning at the thought of a challenge.
The man began breakdancing as the woman twerked spectacularly.
Their part was over, and it was her turn again.
Hat still firmly on her head, she broke into handstand split, twisting artfully around while she swung her legs to gain enough momentum to spin in a circle.
The crowd gasped as she ended in a back bend, lowered herself to the floor and then performed a series of suicide kip-ups.
When she stood, she grinned at the look on her opposition's faces. They were smiling at her, nodding in sportsmanship as they spun back to back and began dancing once more.
And then it was her turn again.
"Stop – oh – wiggle with it, yeah!"
She began her twerk, jutting out her chest in time with the movement of her hips and butt, tearing off her hat as she went.
Her movements shook her long hair out, and she pivoted in a circle before nodding with the pair opposite her to have a final showdown in the last stretch.
"Bend over to the front, touch ya toes, back that ass up and down and get low."
They followed the instructions, Satsuki sure to arch her back and crouch in the way she did when she was doing pole work.
The pair stopped after two rounds, but Satsuki kept it up until the end of the repetitive verse, deciding to show the pair up just one more time.
She fell into a strange mixture of hip hop and breakdancing – but somehow she pulled it off and by the end of the song, the crowd was wild.
She headed over to the couple and gave them both a hug, congratulating them on their rhythm and talent.
She won, apparently, and even though the people who didn't bet on her lost money, the atmosphere was still crazy – almost as crazy as the club on a good night.
"What the shit, Satsuki?" Daiki exclaimed as she headed back to where her friends stood, awestruck.
Handing back Murasakibara his hat, she shrugged, "I told you I could dance – all you idiots ever seemed to care about was basketball!"
"Wow, Momoicchi, no wonder you've made so much money – that was insane!" Kise's excited tone had her laughing, too, "I wish we could come and see you at work!"
Smile now strained, she laughed loudly and didn't answer him.
Acutely aware of Midorima's sceptical eye, she looked to Aomine, "Where's Tetsu?"
Thankfully, she diverted the conversation from herself, and no more questions were asked.
Lying to the people who mattered most to her wasn't something Satsuki was comfortable with. It hurt to lie, to say her show had been cancelled whenever they asked if they could come watch, to say all the money she was making was from theatre performances.
It killed her every time her mother called, asking how everything was going – hurt when she had to lie and make up companies, make up shows and routines to tell her mother about.
When she met Imayoshi – she thought he could take the pain away.
He was the worst possible thing to ever happen to her.
An after party, a few pills – and she was flying.
She woke the next morning alone in her bed – and she cried and cried because she never thought she could be so stupid as to try something like that.
It was dangerous and so not her.
But the Saturday night afterwards, he showed up again.
"Suki," he nodded as he entered joined her at one of their friend's private houses.
"Shoichi," she nodded, turning away from him as she called for another drink at the bar.
"Now, now, don't pretend with me," he laughed, an arm slithering around her shoulders, "I know you've hit a low. I'm surprised you're not on the floor sobbing, after the high you went on last time."
"Enough," she snapped, jerking away from him, clenching her fists as she took a seat at the bar.
"Come on, Suki," he grinned, smiling eyes kind, "one more – just to pick you up from this low."
And feeling as desperate as she was, she let him put the pill into her drink – and she downed it without a second thought.
It was Riko who saved her in the end.
Satsuki was at a stage where she couldn't eat, couldn't sleep – couldn't dance.
All she could do was make incisions on her ankles, hit her head on the wall, take another hit.
"Oi, Satsuki," came a voice from her home voicemail, "where've you been the past few months? I know you're busy lately with work and all, but you don't have to ditch us completely."
She went out with her friends every night of the week after that – and she was always out of it, always swaying slightly to a tune in her head, always just missing something important they'd say.
When she didn't show to work three nights in a row, it was Riko who stormed over, Riko who found her passed out on the floor, Riko who called an ambulance and checked her into rehab.
And it was Riko who hated her most for it.
"You're despicable," spat the short haired woman as she stood over her partner.
Satsuki, who strapped into a bed, a cloth over her mouth so she couldn't bite herself, arms and legs pinned so she wouldn't kick or scratch herself – could only stare wordlessly at the older girl.
"What? Got bored with the fame?" growled Riko, "Couldn't handle the interviews?"
The woman on the bed tried to shake her head, tried to explain her predicament to Riko – but the bonds were too tight, the sedative medication, too strong.
"You know what? I don't give a shit about how fucking hard your life is," spat the acrobatic performer, "you almost died. All your talent, all the money, all your friends and family – did you want to wave goodbye to everything?"
A moment's silence, a stray tear.
"Fuck you, Satsuki. You're just lucky Akashi is nice enough to let you off for the few month's you'll be in here. Hopefully he'll let you back on stage."
As the door slammed shut behind her – Satsuki could only hope.