Saturday, 10 September 20XX, Evening
Sakura household, Yongen-jaya
Sojiro Sakura had been heading downstairs, clutching a basket of laundry to wash at the neighbourhood coin-laundromat, when he heard a sharp thump emanating from Futaba's room. His step-fatherly instincts instantly kicked in, and he immediately proceeded to drop what he was doing (literally) and check what was the matter. Of course, his thoughts were already on the topic of Futaba, albeit feelings of pride and joy for the progress she made since the Phantom Thieves' intervention. The bump he just heard, however, startled him back to reality. He dropped the laundry basket and dashed for the door to Futaba's bedroom, flinging it open.
Swiftly surveying the situation, his eyes soon fell upon the sight of Futaba slumped against the closet door, looking rather disheveled. Her favourite set of headphones had been knocked down the front of her head, but most concerning of all was the fact that Futaba had taken off her shirt. It wasn't excessively hot out, least of all in her heavily-air-conditioned bedroom. Was she changing into her pajamas when she tripped on something? Perhaps, but why would she be listening to music or whatever while doing it? He would find out sooner or later, but first he had to make sure she was okay.
Futaba appeared unconscious, but a few quick checks indicated breathing and a slow but steady pulse, so she probably had just fainted, knocking her head against the closet door on her way down. Sojiro cradled his hand behind his adopted daughter's head where it had most likely had hit the door, and briefly felt around the area. "No bruises…" he diagnosed aloud. Then he withdrew his hand and glanced down at it. "No blood, either." Relieved, he lifted her up and onto her bed, then sat backwards atop her desk chair, waiting for her to awaken. After a minute of waiting, he felt distracted by the sight of Futaba's exposed tummy, so he dug the bed's duvet cover out from underneath her body and laid it on top of her.
Luckily, it took only fifteen minutes before Futaba stirred to something resembling an awakened state. Sojiro listened to her indistinct murmurs and in relief, responded, "Thank goodness, you're awake." She slowly rolled her head over to face the source of that voice, which of course was Sojiro. "How do you feel, Futaba?" he asked.
"I'm fine, Sojiro…", she responded vaguely audibly.
"Oh, that's good to hear", responded Sojiro. However, his fatherly curiosity got the better of him as he added, "So, what were you doing when you fell over?"
Bad move. For all her talk of making advances into the outside world, Futaba was still nowhere near prepared to share word of her secret hobby with others. Without speaking a word, she signified her unwillingness to talk by simply rolling onto her side, facing the wall away from Sojiro.
Sojiro tried to keep his tone of voice innocent and friendly. "I'm just curious, is all." Glancing over to the tank-top that was still lying atop the bed, he added, "Is that why you took your shirt off?"
"Go away," she mumbled.
"Okay, Futaba. If you won't talk, I'll just have no choice but to assume the worst. You weren't doing anything… perverted, were you?"
"No, no!" she panicked as her face blushed beet-red. So much as hearing what naughty situations Sojiro could come up with, however hypothetical, would virtually cause her to die from embarrassment. Desperate to shut him up and put his mind at ease, she figured coming clean would be the lesser of two evils in this case. To stall for time, she mumbled, "Dad… I mean, Sojiro-san…" She paused once more to build up some last-second courage, rolled back over to face him, and said, "I've been doing belly dancing".
Sojiro's response was more understated than Futaba was expecting. "Huh… that's neat," was all he said at first. Then, suddenly, he added in a stern tone, "Wait a minute, you're not showing off for some webcam site, are you?"
"No!" Futaba shouted, offended at the insinuation. Composing herself, she lowered her voice and continued, "I've just been doing it for myself. I haven't shown it to anyone, I just… I watched some tutorials online and thought I'd try it out."
"I see. I'm curious to see what your dance is like, so would it be okay if you show me what you've been working on? Not right now, obviously, but-"
"Reeeh!?" Futaba gasped in shock. She had always looked at baladi as a solo activity so far, and performing for anyone else was not an eventuality she had prepared for. But her own sort-of-father? That felt wrong on so many more levels! For a moment, her thoughts flashed upon Kana, her old friend from grade school. Since leaving Tokyo, her parents had forced her to pose for lewd photographs. Would Futaba wind up suffering a similar fate? "No way! You're not gonna perv on me, are you?"
"It's not like that!" protested Sojiro. "I'll just sit and watch quietly. You don't even have to take off your shirt if it would make you feel more comfortable."
"If that's so, then… answer me this. What do you think about me taking up belly dancing?"
"Well…" Sojiro rubbed the back of his head as he racked his brain for an answer that wouldn't get him kicked out of the room. Before long, an answer came to him naturally. "...I'd be proud of you, Futaba-chan. As long as you're doing this for yourself, and not for the attention of some shady guy, it's nothing to be ashamed of."
Futaba briefly considered the prospect. Hmm… she thought. Sounds respectful enough. I should've known better… Sojiro-san hasn't been the type who would take advantage of me. Besides, if I never get to show my dancing talent to anyone, then what's the point of it all? "...Alright. I'll show you, but you gotta promise that you won't do anything creepy, AND you won't tell another soul, living or dead, until I permit otherwise." She held out her fist, pinky finger extended, and prompted, "Pinky swear?", waiting for Sojiro to reciprocate the action
And reciprocate he did, hooking his pinky around hers and, staring at her eye-to-eye, said, "You've got it, Futaba-chan. My lips, and my hands, shall be sealed. And if I break my promise, may I go out of business and get hunted down by the Phantom Thieves-"
"Okay, okay, enough!" she giggled.
"Alright, Futaba-chan. So, how did you find out about it? What piqued your interest?"
"Egypt. That's where it came from."
"Did it, now?" Sojiro turned his head towards the hall door, on which hung a poster adorned with ancient-Egyptian hieroglyphs. "I should have known," he said with a chuckle.
When he smiled, Futaba joined in with a smile of her own. Finally, he had managed to break the ice. Now that she had finally warmed up emotionally, she seized the moment to spout out every little bit of trivia that she could recall. From its distant origins in ancient Egypt, to its modern codification over the course of the 20th century, to the different styles that had formed into being by the present day, she breathlessly yet eagerly spoke at such a rapid pace that Sojiro could do little but occasionally nod in feigned acknowledgement.
"And did you know that in those old movies," she prattled on, "they weren't allowed to show dancers with their belly buttons exposed, but they got around that just by sticking a jewel in there, and the censors actually allowed it?"
"Did they, now?" Now that Futaba was finally slowing down the pace of her information barrage, he managed to put in a question of his own. "And how long have you been doing this?" he asked.
"Oh… about a year. Off-and-on. Sometimes, I would try a move and I just couldn't get the hang of it and I'd stop for a while and..." she rambled, only to cut herself off before she could bring up the fact that not practising her dancing only served to relapse in thoughts and fears about missing her mother.
"I see… Would this have anything to do with your mother?"
Tears began to form in Futaba's eyes, both from sadness at the mention of her late mother, and from relief that Sojiro was starting to come to an understanding. "I just needed something… to keep… my mind off…", she managed to say before rolling over and sinking her head into her bare arms.
"Alright, don't cry, Futaba-chan." He leaned over and hugged Futaba by the shoulders. The touching emotions of the moment elicited a few audible sobs from her. "I'd be interested to see what your dance is like," continued Sojiro, "but I understand if now's not a good time. Can we talk about this some more, tomorrow at breakfast?"
Futaba managed another nod.
"Speaking of, do you want me to make you something for dinner?"
"What time is it?"
"Oh... " Sojiro checked his watch. "Half past seven."
"I'm not hungry." This wasn't exactly true, since all her dancing had literally taken a lot out of her, but Futaba was just too sad to eat at the moment.
"Alright. But I'm gonna make you a nice, big breakfast to make up for it, so look forward to that, okay?"
"Okay dad… Sojiro-san." It was becoming ever-harder for Futaba to remember that Sojiro was not actually her birth-father, but that was only because of the overwhelming amount of fatherly love he was expressing, now more so than ever. Thinking about that caused even more emotions to well up inside her, and she sniffed back a tear in a vain effort to hold them all inside.
"Thanks... dad." Futaba finally gave in on two fronts: one, calling Sojiro "dad", and two, crying.
"Now you get some sleep, alright, Futaba-chan?" Sojiro stood up to leave, but caught himself and added, "Oh, by the way, I was going out to do the laundry. Do you have anything you want me to wash?"
In response, Futaba blindly picked up the tank-top lying above her on the bed and handed it to Sojiro. Then, still beneath the covers, she discreetly unfastened her pants, pulled them down off her legs, and dropped them on the floor beside her bed. He picked up the pair and finally made his way out, stopping at the door to say a tender, "Good night, Futaba-chan," and turned off the lights.