Chapter 6: Nice Piece of Art
"I told her to get a life."
Every day I see my dream.
Every day I see my, every day I see my dream.
Every day I see my dream.
Ev ev every day I see my dream.
Alice Academy of the Arts, Sociology Class
Mr. Narumi walked around the class room, handing out a piece of white paper to every student from a box. "Now, I only want one word in that paper, and one word only."
Koko raised his hand and said without being allowed to talk. He was holding out his paper in the air and looking at the blonde teacher questioningly. "Isn't this too spacey for one word?"
"Scribble in capitals if you wish," he shrugged, "it won't matter, as long as you do what I ask you to."
"Right, right," Koko sat down and rested his head to his hands. "And we jot a word, right? Then that's it."
Mr. Narumi didn't speak at once. He distributed the remaining pieces of paper to the students at the back, before leaning against his table in front and said, "Not just any word."
"Splendid." Mochu said from the back row. "That singles out jerk, prat, arse, fag—"
"Well," the teacher interrupted, "unless you want it that much, who am I to stop you?"
"Yeah, who are you to stop me? I want to- Say what?"
Glad that he finally got everyone's attention, he sat on his table, ignoring a student's mumble that it was forbidden, and said, "What I want from you is to put one word in that paper: one word that will describe what you want in your life right now."
"Easy." Kitsuneme said, as if his answer is the most obvious thing in the world. "Pounds. Lots and lots of pounds."
"Are you quite, quite sure that's what you settle for?"
"Money solves everything, isn't that what this Academy wants us to learn?" Natsume piped in, surprising a couple of students since he rarely talked in class. "It's not all about arts in life. Of course, aside from the Art of Making Money." His eyes wandered to Hotaru, who rolled her eyes.
Mr. Narumi shook his head and sighed.. "Who am I to stand between a guy and his money?"
There was a moment's silence before Koko piped in, "A gay nanny?"
"Hey, that rhymes." Kitsuneme added later on.
Ruka remained quiet and simply rolled his eyes at his friends. He went back to his paper and tapped his pen. What does he want in his life right now? It was countless. A car, a new pair of sneakers, a new pet to satisfy his obvious fondness to animals… but then, a couple of golden ones took precedence: a life out of the streets, a family. No one really knew his whole biography, perhaps besides his friends and the school officials who saw his background, but otherwise, everyone else has no idea. They don't know that he doesn't really live in the ghetto part of the city.
In actuality, his mother is a wealthy French woman, and his father is a Japanese businessman. He had a wonderful childhood. His mother pampered him, especially as an only child. Only, when he reached the age of fifteen, his father wanted him to stop attending the local school and instead enroll in a posh private school, at the same time learning how to handle the business. He never had another happy time after that. His pets were given away, his video consoles thrown, and the only place he was allowed to go was the library. His mother was disturbed about the arrangement, and she got into a fight with her husband. Ruka was devastated and stopped the argument, saying that he's willing to do everything for the better. His mother was furious, and it was a battle. They would exchange hateful retorts, until Ruka just decided to run away and left a trail that he went overseas. He's still keeping in touch with his mother, and has been informed that his father was not trying too hard anymore, convinced that Ruka will come back eventually.
And so, he knew what to write. In the white piece of paper, he wrote, in his scrawny scribble, the word, Dad.
He folded his paper into half and glanced at Natsume, who was back to reading his comic book, but judging the distant expression; Ruka knew that he wasn't really reading the page.
Feeling that someone was staring, Natsume hastily turned to the next page, but his thoughts were still buried to another subject. He wondered if what he wrote was what he really wanted. He wanted so many things right now; he didn't know what the most important one is. He wanted a life with Aoi— a life where he didn't have to worry about his sister and check if she's alright, if she's not getting beat up, or something of the other. But it was downright impossible, and he knew that. But somehow, he still wanted to believe that things will get better— or at least, for his sister. Aoi's all he has, and the best he could do is to protect her, to defend her.
And if he has to die for that, then hell he will.
Discreetly as he can, he gradually turned over his paper and stared at the word written in his thin handwriting: Love. Yes, it was so out of him to write a word he didn't feel coming from his parents, or people at all. He avoided it like the forbidden fruit. He despised it, knowing that there's something existing in the world that doesn't exist— or maybe just in his life. He wondered why he even thought of it. Maybe because that's what's lacking in his life. Yes, perhaps that. Since a child, he only longed for his parent's love. Aoi was claimed to be an accident, but in his opinion, she lives for him. He wouldn't want to live if not for her. She's his life and soul, making him smile and laugh even in the dumbest ways. And he vows to never leave her, and be her brother.
He sure knows how to get a person think, he thought as he turned the paper over once again, his eyes lingering to his happy-go-lucky teacher in front, apparently starting to creep Koko out.
"Excuse me, sir," finally clearing his throat and looking straight to the eyes of Mr. Narumi, "but would you mind going over Mochu's? He seems troubled."
"Ah, yes," Mr. Narumi smiled when he saw Mochu glaring at his still-blank paper, looking completely dejected. When he strolled off, Koko sighed in relief and quickly wrote Future and placed his paper in his book. He nodded solemnly to himself. Yes, that was what he wanted most right at this moment. He wanted to have a future— a sure, safe one, where he'll be successful in life. He didn't want to end up like he was before: anti-social and so alone. He wanted to be friends, and he was glad that Kitsuneme got him to be the person he is currently. There wasn't a trace of his past etched on his face, but he wondered if he will ever have something ahead of him, with the life he's in. He can only rely on his dancing to get him a life, but it's not like hip hop dancers are in demand, especially in England, unless he can get in agencies and appear in Brithop MV's, he's done. But everyone knows he can't keep dancing forever. When he's forty, or perhaps even just thirty, he'll be out of business, and he'll have nothing to help him live.
He just wanted a future. That was— "Ow!" He looked around. Kitsuneme was wearing his Your-dead expression, and Koko merely shrugged while dodging another one of his friend's spit balls. Then, he threw a dry crumpled paper, which landed on Koko's desk. Raising a brow, he opened the sheet and read the sentence, in Kitsuneme's all-caps writing, WHAT'S YOURS?
What's yours? He threw it back, avoiding Mr. Narumi's eyes.
The answer came back before he even got to count to ten. I ASKED YOU FIRST.
What's yours? This time, Koko drew a line under his question twice.
UNDERSTANDING.
Koko knew at once. Kitsuneme has no parents. Well, technically, he does, but he thinks they'd rather be dead. When he began dancing, they completely ignored him, saying he's a disgrace to the family, saying that he should be in medicine school like his father. Kitsuneme wasn't one to back out on his dreams. He would stick to them, and the brawn he showed whenever the argument comes up in the family table (the only time they ever get together as a family) proves just how much a stickler he is to his own rules of life.
Future, Koko wrote. He doesn't hesitate in telling Kitsuneme his secrets. He has always been there, been a friend, and pulled him out of depression. When he threw the paper ball back to Kitsuneme, they caught eyes for a second, and both nodded. It was a mutual decision.
They both made a new ball with the words WHAT'S YOURS? and what's yours? then hit Mochu straight on the forehead, who yelped and suddenly looked around. Koko and Kitsuneme waved their hands to the air, trying to get his attention, which they eventually did, only it also grabbed Mr. Narumi's.
"Is there a problem, boys?" The three of them shook their heads, and he simply smiled before strolling over to Mikan's place, who was having a very comfortable time and an optimistic aura despite the cast she had on her foot. "You seem quite sure of your answer."
Mikan smiled at him and said, "Naturally, sir. I already have everything I want now."
"If you're so sure, then do you mind telling the class?"
"Ballet." she declared proudly without hesitation.
"Obviously." Natsume muttered. Mikan ignored him.
"Hmm…" Mr. Narumi rubbed his chin, "Do you see yourself with this after college?"
"Mr. Narumi, I see myself dancing ballet since the day I started."
"Broaden your mind, sweetheart," the teacher twirled around the room, "Enlighten it! Discover new things! Discover yourself!"
"Uh, right." Mikan shook her head as Mr. Narumi peered from one desk to another. He was so innocent. She didn't need to discover herself, or new things, or even enlighten them. Ballet is her life. She's got everything set out: a primed career, supportive parents, a scholarship, and the offers. One single step each time, and sooner or later she's done. She's famous. Everybody will crave for her, running crazy after her, wanting to get her autograph signed on their pointe shoes and taped on their tutus. It was everything she could've asked for. No one is in her way. No one. Well, not until her foot heals, that is.
Hotaru fixed her hair when she saw her best friend's reaction. She may not show it, but she was actually worried with Mikan. It was always about ballet, and careers, and recitals, and diets around her. She wasn't even Mikan anymore. That perhaps explain why she wrote, in her charming calligraphy, Time. Her best friend needed it. She needed it.
Many have always said that she was lucky; everyone in her family was successful in their fields, and it wouldn't be a surprise if she becomes a renowned businesswoman, or a corporate lawyer, or a wealthy stockbroker. Simply put, like Mikan, she had her whole future ahead of her. Everyone knew she's bound to be someone worldwide. But she wanted something that can't be achieved by being successful. She wanted attention, and only Mikan was able to give it to her. Sure, she waved her off when she was being a complete starfish— in both the sense of being stupid and sticky— but she enjoyed it, because she never got it back home. It was always, "Sorry, honey, I'm busy tonight" or "Can't, sweetie, I'm out of town" or even "Too tired from work, kid, sorry". Her mom, her dad, and her brother were always away or too exhausted. She thought an Art Academy will perhaps get her noticed a little more, get them to sit during recitals and then perhaps get a bite to eat after, but no, life didn't work that way for Hotaru Imai. The excuses keep coming and they rarely came to recitals and school appointments and PTA meetings, and even if they did, they only get until halfway before someone calls and demand them back in their offices. Mikan was all Hotaru had at the moment, who acted like such a worry-rat, that perhaps, she didn't want to accept reality that the only one who gave her attention all those years was growing up and maybe, just maybe, learning how to let go of her. Hotaru wanted to rewind time, pause it, stop it… anything, just so everything can go right with her family, even just once.
"Everyone through?" Mr. Narumi smiled at the class from the desk in front. "Now, I want you all to fold it into four and slip it inside this balloon."
Alice Academy of the Arts, Cafeteria
"What the hell is that?"
Miikan didn't bother looking up, recognizing the voice without finding the need to. "Good afternoon, Crunch."
"No, seriously, what's that?" Koko said, as if the one-fourth-filled bowl of soggy vegetables interested him. He pulled out a chair and sat with them in the table without invitation. "Is that some kind of food ballerina's are required to eat?"
"It's stew and I'd appreciate it if you don't spit on our lunch." Mikan mumbled. "Your annoying commentary isn't welcome here."
"You don't mean that," Koko grinned. "I have brains."
"What, the size of a nut?" She rolled her eyes. "Honey, need anything?"
Koko scratched his head. "Yeah, I was wondering if you have a spare coin there. I'm three short."
Mikan rolled her eyes amusedly and took some coins from her wallet. "Knock yourself out, Crunch."
He gave her a goofy smile and waved off, "Sure will, No Bones."
Alice Academy of the Arts, Ballet Studio
"Let me take a wild guess."
"Hello, Luna."
The light-haired ballerina had stopped working on her penchée when Mikan walked into the studio. The rest of the class was still in the changing room, but she wasn't in tights and leotards. How could she? She had a cast, and the doctor said she can't dance for some time. It brought huge fights and difficult arrangements, and she was going to start fixing some right then.
"Hello to you too, Twinkle Toes." Luna said mockingly, facing the mirrors with her back turned and looking at Mikan through the reflectors. "Let's see, you want a leg replacement, don't you?"
She hobbled closer, ignoring what a pain it was. "Now why on earth would I want that?"
"Oh, I have no idea," Luna rolled her eyes, "but seeing as you're crippled and can barely stretch your leg, why not?"
"Brilliant one Luna, but, no."
This time, she faced Mikan with hands on her hip. "Fine then, what does Luna Koizumi deserve to be blessed with Mikan Sakura's presence?"
It actually took quite a while before Mikan managed to breathe out; "I'm volunteering you as my understudy."
"Pardon?" She couldn't believe her ears. An understudy? She had often been an understudy, but she has never filled the position out. It was a surprise that Mikan was actually offering her the position.
"You're my understudy, Luna," Mikan repeated, "With the accident I had, I'm not fit to perform in the next three recitals, at most. I'll sit out of class in the next month. Sprains and broken bones aren't that easy to heal, you see." A sad smile crept on her face. "Ironically, break a leg isn't really for good luck."
"Are you accusing me?" Luna suddenly said, attitude changing. Admittedly, she was jealous of how Mikan seemed to have amazed the audience and caught the attention of many choreographers, but she would never do anything to hurt her, in the physical sense!
Mikan rolled her eyes. "Of course, not, Luna. I don't think you're psychopathic enough to do that."
"Thank you, that makes me feel a lot better," Luna sardonically exclaimed.
The brunette laughed. "Silly. I have many things to work on, plus the Theater. I don't think I can handle everything right now. I'll see you later." She waved goodbye and turned around, but before she closed the studio door behind her, she heard Luna call after her retreating back,
"You know what? I'm starting to think that a broken leg fits you so much better."
Sakura's, Garden
Mikan was in full concentration that late afternoon. She was sipping tea and absentmindedly doodling on her Physics worksheet. It would be difficult to rub it off later, but, oh well, that was for later.
Flowers surrounded the garden. Yuka loved flowers. Orange roses, to be precise. Yellow, red, violet, black… their garden was like a crayon box.
"Pray tell, what is my lovely sister doing here?"
Mikan snapped back and turned around to see her brother. "Hello, Tsubasa." He ruffled her hair and kissed her lightly on the cheek.
"You didn't answer my question," Tsubasa said, sitting on the chair across him and served himself some cake. He took a bite, but then immediately choked and drowned it with a glass of water. "Hell, what is that you're eating?"
Unblinkingly, Mikan replied, "It's spinach cake."
"Hell? Does it even go with tea?"
"Oh, snap out of it. You've been living with me since and you know the kind of food I have to eat."
"Yes, that." He rolled his eyes and instead stirred a cup of tea. "Have, not want. You know, this is a free country. What you eat outside of school won't reach their ears."
"That's what you think." Mikan said darkly. "You know Alice Academy. People have a way of knowing things. It's like the Upper East Side."
"Hmm…" Tsubasa tapped his fingers against the table. "I recall those times when they found out about that girl… what's her name? She and I were sno—"
"Oh, how charming, but I don't need to know about my brother's private life, hear?"
"Yes, madam."
It was a while before Mikan suddenly asked him. "Hey, Tsubasa?"
"Listening."
"If…" Mikan hesitated. Will her brother answer seriously? Well, it was worth a try. "If you were asked what you want me to have right at this moment… what would it be?"
Tsubasa snorted. "A life."
Rolling her eyes, she answered, "No, seriously, Tsubasa. I mean, I'm breathing. I'm living. I have a life."
"No, I'm the serious one here, little sister." Mikan blinked, staring at her brother. He did look serious. "Face it. You don't have a life. Now do you know what I want you to do right now?"
Shaking her head, Mikan said, "No."
Tsubasa looked confident when he crossed his legs and played with the spinach cake he didn't want to gobble. "Ask me."
Raising an eyebrow, she obliged, "What do you want me to do right now?"
Without missing a beat, Tsubasa had replied, "I want you to grab a jumper, go outside, and enjoy the world. After that, you can go home and tell me what you've seen."
Mikan was confused. Just what kind of reply was that? "That's weird."
Shrugging, she was given a cheeky grin. "No one said it wasn't."
Downing Street, Westminster, London
Rubbing her hands together and messily tucking her hair under the jumper, Mikan walked down the elegant streets of Downing. The leaves rustled and the branches screeched against brick walls. Stray cats purred and dug on metal trash bins.
Mikan had no idea why her brother would make her walk around London. The street is too formal for Mikan's preference, but her parents loved it there. They said they feel respected. Mikan often scoffed at that excuse with her brothers behind their parents' backs. It housed the Palace of Westminster and countless of West End attractions, but Mikan hasn't grew tired of it.
Perhaps she really does need to go out sometimes.
Cars zoomed past. She glanced at Big Ben. It was quarter to seven. Lights flickered open to illuminate path walks.
Mikan heaved a sigh as she took in step after step. The brick walls and iron gates seemed the same with every house she passes by. Then again, Mikan isn't known for being firm and stuff. With each stroll, she was driven to her land of dreams.
The final performer, a world-class ballerina. She twirls around the stage, leaps on her toes, prances around fancily. Everyone is entranced. They are amazed. Mikan Sakura. Her name is music to the classics. She is like a bell of utmost wonder. Tchaikovsky's legendary music plays in the background. It was amazing.
Every day I see my dream.
Every day I see my, every day I see my dream.
Every day I see my dream.
Ev ev every day I see my dream.
Wait— what?
A stereo was blasting its speakers off, completely unnatural with the quiet traditional aura of Downing Street. Mikan looked around. She was in the downtown part of the street. Grey houses, a bit worn out, ghetto, ghetto, ghetto.
And loud music.
Yes, loud music.
It could've woken up the whole neighborhood, if they were sleeping. Or perhaps that was just an exaggeration. After all, Mikan is well known for that specifically.
It commanded her to follow the music. She rounded the corner where she thought she heard the music from, disregarding the disgusted looks from the posh-looking women strolling down the road.
Every day I see my dream.
Every day I see my, every day I see my dream.
Every day I see my dream.
Ev ev every day I see my dream.
"Natsume?"
To her, it didn't even seem like Natsume. Same black hair, same piercing eyes. But he did not look bored and stuff. He was up on his feet, dancing like he did that day he danced Right Round in front of Mikan. He was fast. His movements were fierce and swift. Beads of perspiration trickled down his forehead, down his neck, down his torso.
Oh, sweet mother.
The v-neck shirt fit him like a glove. She could make out those abs from the dancing. She could freaking make them out. Well, she was a teenager, with those things called hormones, and, well, the rest is pretty self-explanatory.
But her eyes went back to his awesome movements.
Natsume's hands moved like they were weightless and boneless. They were synchronized with the music, flowing, waving.
Mikan was at a lost for words. She couldn't describe what Natsume was doing. It was amazing… she'd never seen anything like it before. She never paid much attention with it back in the Academy. People don't always believe that hip hop and breakdancing can go long ways. The Academy was more focused on classical ballet, ballroom dancing...
"Barbie."
Sakura's, Dining Room
"Hello, squirt."
"Hello, piche."
"Not nice, Youichi, not nice."
Youichi sent his brother a dark look when Yuka stopped giving him the Don't swear face. Tsubasa chuckled and chewed on his fried greens.
"Where's Mikan?" Izumi asked, looking around the table. "She's not home yet?"
"I'm not sure," Yuka frowned. "I think I heard her in the kitchens a while ago."
"Ah, that's not Mikan," Tsubasa butted in, "She went out half past seven, until eight. That was Youichi."
Another glare. Youichi didn't say anything but his eyes shouted enough vulgarity in ten different languages to his older brother.
"Alright, Tsubasa," Yuka said, turning to her son with eyebrows together, "Where'd you send your sister."
Giving her a big grin, he said, "I told her to get a life."
St. James Park, Westminster
Mikan swung her legs as she rolled the cold water bottle on her hands. It was a half hour before eight, and the sun was getting ready to set. It was like a painting, as she stared at the lake with the setting sun reflecting on it. Mixtures of red, orange and yellow canvassed on the calm waters. Mikan couldn't help but admit that perhaps, just a tad bit, Tsubasa was right. She hasn't been doing anything else besides ballet. She enjoyed dancing, though. She could spend all her life just dancing, and she'd be happy. But every once in a while… I guess this isn't so bad, she thought.
Natsume jumped down the bench they were sitting on. Mikan watched in interest; he was entrancing. He walked towards the lake, grabbed a flat rock, and threw it on the waters. It leaped. Thrice.
Mikan was amazed. "How did you do that?"
She didn't know that was possible.
Natsume shrugged, not looking at her, but on the lake. "No big deal."
Mikan's eyes bulged. No big deal? No big deal? Kid me not, I didn't even know that could happen! "But that's amazing!"
"Barbie, that was just a rock."
"A leaping rock!" she corrected him, jumping off the bench as well. She approached Natsume and stood before him, looking up at his serene face.
He was beautiful.
She'd give him that. It was as if that face completed him. His eyes bore into space, piercing yet quite, quite gentle. She could see the various colors of the setting sun mixing along with the red orbs. Right then, she decided that Natsume was the best hot stud she'd ever seen in real life.
"What?" His question didn't sound so annoyed. In fact, it was nothing like that. They drifted from his mouth like a soft exhale. Mikan continued to stare, just stare, at him.
"Nothing."
"That took you quite long, eh?"
Mikan shook her head, smiling. She liked Natsume. He was cool. And he was so liberal. "Hey, Natsume?"
"Hn." She took that as the Natsume Hyuuga translation for, "Yes?"
"What did you write on that paper during Sociology?"
Natsume snorted. He plopped down on the ground, legs wide, knees bent, arms atop. "Isn't that supposed to be personal?"
"Mine wasn't."
"Maybe you should watch your mouth next time," he rolled his eyes.
"That's not nice."
"What are you, preschool?"
"Pardon me, Lord Hyuuga," she scoffed, "Not everyone speaks you."
"It's no requirement, Barbie. You just have to be, what's that? Sweet."
"…I won't comment on that. This conversation is finito."
"You don't enjoy losing, do you?"
"Who does?" Mikan sat on the ground herself, wrapping her arms around her knees. "I grew up wanting to become on the top. I want to be the best in everything I can do. It's… quite hard growing up with a family who are always aiming. You have to be unique. That is probably the reason I chose to dance. My brothers don't dance," she laughed, "They rather be dead than be caught wearing leotards! Papa's far too serious, and mum's got better things to do than dance."
"You're saying ballet is your last resort." Natsume scoffed. "Fact, not opinion."
Mikan rolled her eyes, "No. It is not. No one in the family happens to find dancing as enjoyable as I do. Thankfully, it's not just luck."
"Right," he chuckled, "That's what you keep telling yourself."
She was quiet for a minute, when she heard Natsume chuckle. It was low but melodious. It wasn't like a singing crow or something of the sort.
And so, that same day Mikan decided Natsume's a handsome young lad, she also decided to call him a 'Piece of Art'.
"This is where you live?"
"Yes, and stop looking at me like that."
Raising his hands, Natsume said with a smirk, "Defensive."
"I am not!" Mikan gasped, then crossed her arms, a smile playing along her sweet red lips. "Thank you. For tonight, I mean." She gave him a cheeky grin. "I don't despise you with a burning passion, Natsume. Keep that in mind, yes?"
He raised one eyebrow amusedly before turning his back on her and the big iron gates, pocketing his hands and walking away.
Mikan shook her head with a smile. "I'll see you tomorrow, won't I?"
He waved her off, and Mikan took that, along with his Hn, a Yes.
Sakura's, Mikan's Room
"Hey, Tsubasa tends to be a woman-eater and a big prat, but he's one nutcracker, too."
Mikan smiled to herself as she took out her clothes for tomorrow. Hotaru said through the phone, in such a bored tone, "What'd he do? Crack your nut-sized brain?"
Rolling her eyes, she answered, "Har, har. Funny, Hotaru. You're brilliant."
"I don't need to be told."
"Whatever. I'm going to bed. Good night."
Author's Note: If I got the locations wrong, please tell me! I don't live in London so I'm a bit clueless with this. I only rely to extensive research and the awesome powers of Google *big grin*. Though the sunset isn't much of a surprise, it's quite odd for me to write a story with the sun setting at eight when here, it sets late at five to six.