Alright, now for chapter two. If anyone was wondering, the whole story is POV Kayra, my OC. I'm also introducing a new character Mina. I t took me a while to write this because I really have no idea as to what will happen in this story, so if you have any better ideas, feel free to tell me and I may re-write the chapter.

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot, Kayra and Mina

Shoving my karate gi into my bag hastily, I shoved my shoes onto my feet not really caring if they were on the right feet and sprinted out of the dojo. I was going to be late! My karate lesson had gone on longer than it was supposed to and I would have to hurry to get to my next lesson in time.

Running full speed through the streets, I passed various shops and cafes and so many things I would have liked to stop and look at if I had had the time. Turning into and alley, I took the shortcut I had discovered years ago. Jumping a fence, I landed softly on the balls of my feet and didn't slow, even as the impact jarred all the way through my shins.

Finally reaching my destination, I slumped against the doorframe and dropped my bag in pure exhaustion. Checking my watch, it read 5:55. Good. That meant I still had 5 minutes to change. I kicked my keds off my feet and onto the boot mat and shoved my socks inside them before picking up my bag again and heading for the change room.

It was empty. Mina was probably already warming up. Taking out my gi again, I shook it out and folded it carefully this time before pulling out my dance wear. Whitish-pink leggings, a pink leotard and a short wrap skirt contrasted greatly with my karate wear.

It was always interesting to see friends from the dojo learn I took ballet. Sometimes it took them a good few minutes to say anything comprehendible. I had been taking ballet since I was about 7, and I'd never been that good at it. I was actually planning to quit when Mina showed up.

She had just moved from Tokyo and was being homeschooled so she knew, virtually no one in the city. She had come in the first day without looking at anyone, keeping her head bowed and silent. She had shuffled along clumsily and almost fell a few times as she came out of the change room.

Our teacher had immediately asked her to show the whole class what she could do. Her face lost all color and her huge green eyes got even bigger. I tried to suggest that it wasn't necessary, but our teacher was adamant.

Putting on the traditional string quartet ballet music, we all gave the new comer some space to dance. It was amazing to see the transformation that took place.

Before she had been standing as if trying to stare a hole in the floor and disappear, but as soon as the music started, she flipped her pigtails back over her shoulders, stood up straight and faced us head on. Then she began to dance. If it could even be called dancing.

It looked more like she was floating on a thin layer of air. Each step she took, each pirouette, every jump, every kick all seemed effortless. Her technique was perfect, every move precise and crisp. She was flexible and strong, light and quick, truly a prima ballerina.

I still remember the look on our teacher's face. She looked as if she had seen an angel. Maybe she had. Maybe we all had.

Mina was truly angelic, always kind, never angry or hurtful. She was beautiful too. Flawless skin and perfect bone structure accented her beautiful eyes and pert nose. Long, slender legs that went on forever came up to meet a slender torso and long swan neck. She was truly like an angel on earth. I of course hated her.

I've always been a rather jealous person and seeing her being so perfect without seeming to have to try made me really mad. The way she did everything without complaint made her the perfect teacher's pet. I had never been like that, especially in ballet. My karate training showed through in my movements. Instead of soft and flowing, my dancing was sharp and choppy, and my teacher wasted no time in pointing out the difference between our skill levels.

And even though I had stood up for her that first day, she made no move to help me out in any way. I assumed she was enjoying being so much better than us. She never spoke to any of us, always changed in her own corner of the change room and stayed late after every class to 'practice'.

I felt like she was taunting the rest of us, trying to show how much more dedicated to dancing she was, so one day, I stayed to watch her.

As one by one my fellow dancers left, she stayed behind in the studio, removing her regular ballet shoes and carefully lacing up her point shoes instead. None of the rest of us knew point, and she always made a point of putting on the shoes in front of us as if to make yet another claim to her superiority.

Then she walked in that funny way dancers walk while wearing those dreadfully uncomfortable shoes to the middle of the studio, and stood there. For nearly ten minutes she did nothing. I had just about accepted that the shoes were just a façade and she really didn't know how to dance point when the front door clanged shut. We were now alone in the studio.

Looking over her shoulder as if to make sure no one was watching, she scanned the room once. I made sure to duck behind the large and bulky sound system and my presence went unnoticed. Finally, sighing loudly, she took one tentative step. Rising up onto her toes she took a few small steps to gain her balance and then danced.

Seeing her on point was nothing like her regular dancing. Each step was hesitant and her moves were shaky. She kept at it though, practicing for almost an hour before she tumbled out of a turn and fell heavily to the ground.

Crying out in pain, she grabbed her ankle and bit her lip until it bled. Slowly, she eased her foot closer too her and removed the shoe carefully. Every now and then she made a small hiss or grunt as her ankle was bumped. Finally, setting the shoe down beside her, she rolled up her leggings to reveal her tightly bound ankle.

It was swollen and bruised. This obviously hadn't been the first time she had hurt that ankle. Wincing, she pulled the wrappings tighter and rolled her hurt foot a few times before pulling her leggings back down and reaching for her shoe.

Did she really mean to keep dancing after that? Judging from the large and unhealed bruises I had seen, I guessed yes. Maybe she wasn't as bad as I had thought, maybe she just really loved dance. Maybe she was just too shy to talk to anyone, maybe I had misjudged her.

Sighing, I rose up from my hiding place and grabbed her shoe before she did. Her head snapped up immediately and she scrambled to her feet in panic. Giving her a lopsided grin I found myself noticing how big her eyes had become again. Maybe she really was just plain terrified of us.

"If you dance on that ankle, you're going to hurt it permanently, and then where would you be?" I tried to let her know I wasn't going to hurt her.

"I have to get better," she replied in her soft, musical voice, "mother expects it of me." She wasn't meeting my gaze again and it was getting annoying.

"Look," I said more roughly than I had intended to, "if your mother expects you to dance on an injured ankle she's nuts. If you want to get better, you need to let yourself heal up first." She hunched her shoulders as if to protect herself from my angry words. Slowly, the pity I had felt for her on that first day came back. "Just go easy for a few days." I said in a softer tone, "relax, hang out with some friends, be a couch potato.

She laughed softly without humor. "And what if I don't have any friends?"

"Then make some." Silence took over the space between us. Finally, I tuned always quietly and reached for the doorknob. Opening it slowly, I looked back at her as she tenderly reached for the shoe I had left on the floor. Could she really have no friends? Sighing, I made up my mind.

"Well are you coming? I queried.

'Coming where?" her tone was still suspicious. I just smiled. Our friendship began that day. Almost a year later, mina was a totally different person.

Shaking my head clear of old memories, I finished changing and made my way to the studio. As I expected, Mina was already there practicing. She moved as effortlessly and gracefully on point as she did on normal shoes.

She had grown since I met her and was now a few inches taller than me, though her thin frame made her look shorter that she actually was. Her wavy brown hair reached her elbows now when she let it down which she was doing more and more often. Right then, she had it in a sleek half ponytail to keep it out of her eyes as she danced. Her pale skin glowed with happiness as she let herself loose with the music.

As I entered the room, she smiled her beautiful smile and waltzed over to me. As we talked about things only the best of friends talk about, I found myself thinking about how lucky I was to have such a great best friend.

The class went by quickly, and before I knew it, we were laughing in the change room as we folded our dance wear fondly. As we chatted our way to the foyer, to get our shoes, I noticed a tall stranger talking to the receptionist. He had dark hair and from what I could tell, a handsome face. Unlike most people in Karakura, he wore a suit. He seemed vaguely familiar and I wondered briefly what he was doing in a ballet studio, before Mina's conversation reclaimed my attention and we left the studio and the mystery man behind.

Well that's that. I'm not entirely satisfied with this chapter so again if you have any better ideas or any ideas at all, please tell me. And that's it for chapter two; let me know if I should continue!

Carrotgirl5