Pas De Deux

By Icewyche

Disclaimer: I do not own Ronin Warriors.  However, I do own this plot and all characters that are not Ronin Warriors.  Mess with them and feel my wrath.

Part Four: Variation II

The bamboo swords clashed together, the sound echoing through the small dojo.  The combatants circled one another warily, then the smaller fighter lunged forward, swinging the shinai in a broad horizontal arc.  The blow would have landed, but the taller fighter darted swiftly out of the way and blocked the strike easily with a tooth-rattling impact.  His opponent stepped back, shaking out the insulted wrist.

      "Ow," Carey muttered a bit petulantly, her voice muffled by the men covering most of her head.  "Don't you break my wrist, Sage --- it's going to be hard to do finger turns with my arm in a cast."

      "I only rattled you a little," Sage explained, reaching beneath his own mask to flick a stray lock of hair out of his eyes.  "Carey, the shinai is not a baseball bat, and you are not swinging for the fences at Dodger Stadium.  The idea is to use controlled blows to strike the target areas, not to decapitate your opponent."

      Carey mopped sweat from her forehead.  "Since when do you know about Dodger Stadium?"

      "I live in Japan, koibito, not in a cave.  Now come on, concentrate.  You control the shinai, not the other way around."

      "I'm not so sure about that, honey.  This thing is at least as big as I am," Carey pointed out, eyeing the bamboo sword dubiously.  "What, do they only make these in 'one-size-fits-all'?"

      "Sorry, love, but it was the smallest the dojo had.  I guess they don't have a whole lot of students who are 5'2" and 130 pounds," Sage said, grinning to himself as he saw Carey's amber eyes flash at him through her mask.

      "For your information, I happen to be 5'4" and 115 pounds," she retorted, but the dignity of her reply was rather spoiled when her mask slipped slightly, resting at an odd angle on her head.  She frowned and shoved it back into place.  "Dammit.  Well, I suppose this is what I get for trying the whole 'share-in-your-significant-other's-interests' thing."

      "You said you wanted me to teach you some of the basics of kendo, if for no other reason than so that you could understand what Toshi and I were talking about," Sage reminded her.

      "Yes, I know what I said," Carey sighed ruefully.  "And the next time I say something like that, please, I beg you, if you love me even the slightest little bit --- tell me no."

      "Not a chance," Sage replied with relish.

      "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

      "I believe the appropriate saying is, 'Payback is hell'," Sage quoted, his lavender eyes sparkling with laughter.  Carey growled something at him in Japanese, and Sage chuckled.  "Well, at least your command of the language is improving, although I wouldn't recommend using that word in polite company.  Now pick up the shinai and let's try it again.  Remember, the object is to hit me, but not get hit yourself.  And only clean hits score points.  No wild swings.  Ready?  Hajime."

      They sparred for several minutes; parry and attack, back and forth.  Finally Carey decided to end the game.  She deflected several of Sage's attacks then ducked under another, a move that brought her closer to him.  But instead of retreating, she lunged for him, tangling her shinai between his ankles and sending him crashing to the floor with a swift yank of her arm.  As Sage waited for his head to stop ringing, Carey whipped off her men and shook her dark hair free, then planted the tip of her shinai against his heart with a sweet smile.  "I believe the word you're looking for is touché," she said smugly.

      "I believe the word I'm looking for should never be used in front of a lady," Sage replied dryly as he removed his own mask.  "You do realize that if this were a real match, that little stunt would have gotten you not only disqualified but probably banned from the sport."

      "And if it were a real fight, you'd be dead before the referee even noticed," Carey replied.  "Querido, I'm sorry, I know how much you love this sport, but to me it all seems kind of fussy and overcontrolled.  I mean, everything is so ritualized."

      Sage propped himself up on one elbow and arched an eyebrow at his lover.  "Says a woman who works in one of the most ritualized art forms on the planet."

      "Yeah, yeah, I know.  It's just that I always thought you learned to fight to protect yourself --- you know, that it was something you could use in real life if you had to.  And somehow I can't see the street gangs in the barrios back home bowing and waiting for the ref to tell them to go ahead and start knifing each other…although I suppose it might make the drive-by shootings a little more civilized," she mused, her eyes dancing humorously.

      Sage grinned at the image her words conjured up.  "Insult my sport, will you?" he growled playfully, grabbing the leg of her flared pants.  "Come here, woman."  He enjoyed her squeak of surprise as he pulled her down --- then yelped as the bamboo shinai landed on him first, and Carey landed on top of it.  "Ow --- okay, that was definitely a bad idea," he groaned, rubbing his chest where the practice sword had hit him.

      "Serves you right," Carey pouted.  "Sage, if I have to explain to my dresser how I got a bruise on my cleavage, you are a dead man.  Next time you decide to get amorous, you might want to make sure I'm unarmed first."

      "Oh, I don't know," Sage drawled.  "I've heard that using toys can spice up a romance --- why not weapons?"

      "Okay, now we're getting into scary visual places.  Is this something you forgot to tell me about?  Let me guess --- you keep the whips and chains under the bed."

      "Closet," Sage replied blandly.  Carey arched an eyebrow at him and he grinned wickedly.  "Gotcha."

      Carey shook her head and rolled her eyes.  "They grow older but they never grow up.  Tell me again why I stay with you?"

      "Well, there's my intelligence and good breeding and my not-inconsiderable charm…"

      "Uh-huh.  Now give me the real reasons."

      Sage chuckled and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her closer to him.  "I can think of one very good one," he murmured.  Her eyes sparkled in assent as he kissed her long and deeply.  Neither one of them heard the door open.

      "Seiji, what are you doing?"

      The stern female voice caused the lovers to jump guiltily apart.  Sage scrambled to his feet as he looked up at the visitor in the doorway…and his heart sank.  "Yayoi," he greeted her with a forced lightness.  "What a…surprise."

      "So I see," came the amused reply.  "Don't hurt yourself rushing to greet me, baby brother."

      "Not likely," Sage muttered beneath his breath.  "Carey, sweetheart, this is my sister, Dr. Yayoi Date.  Yayoi-onēsan, this is Carey Navarro…my girlfriend."  This last was said with a trace of defiance, almost as if he dared Yayoi to object.

      Carey studied the new arrival with interest.  Yayoi Date was a slender woman of average height, with brown eyes and black hair knotted severely at the base of her neck.  The only thing Carey saw that might have told her Yayoi and Sage were related was the relative fairness of Yayoi's complexion --- that and her rather formal bearing.  Carey also saw the supercilious amusement with which Yayoi regarded Sage, and the disinterest for Carey herself.  And I thought Sage was standoffish.  Carey Navarro instantly disliked Dr. Yayoi Date.

      "It's nice to meet you," she said politely, slipping instantly into full-scale gracious-ballerina-meeting-the-public mode as she extended a hand in greeting.  "Sage has told me so much about you."

      Yayoi flicked a glance at Carey's outstretched hand but ignored it, making the younger woman a tiny, barely polite bow instead.  "Obviously I can't say the same," she replied coolly.  Her sharp dark eyes took in the decidedly non-regulation garb Sage and Carey wore --- Sage in a T-shirt and jeans, Carey in a leotard and jazz pants.  "I see you've decided to dispense with the traditional gear, Seiji-chan.  What would Grandfather say?"

      "Well, he's not here, is he?" Sage retorted.  "Carey asked me to teach her some of the basics of kendo but she doesn't own any of the gear, and what does it matter what we're wearing, anyway?  What are you doing here, Yayoi?"

      Yayoi raised an eyebrow at the barely concealed irritation in Sage's tone.  "I'm in town for a surgical conference, and I thought I'd take some time to practice.  The man at the front desk told me you were here, so I decided to come see you.  You haven't been home in a long while…although I suppose I can see why," she added, raking a glance over Carey.

      "I have a job and a life here, Yayoi.  It keeps me busy," Sage replied, trying hard to suppress his annoyance.  "Is there something you wanted, or did you just come here to needle me?"

      "Actually, I was hoping you'd be interested in sparring for a bit.  That is, of course, unless you have more important things to do," Yayoi said, again glancing meaningfully at Carey, who was watching the whole exchange in thoughtful silence.

      Sage's lips tightened.  He knew he really couldn't refuse Yayoi's challenge, not without delivering a tremendous insult.  And as tempting as it was…he could just imagine what would happen when word got back to his grandfather as it undoubtedly would.  "Fine," he said shortly, knowing he wasn't exactly being gracious but not really caring.  "But not for too long --- Carey and I have a reception to go to tonight."

      Yayoi smiled, rather like a cat that had gotten hold of the canary.  "Just let me warm up and finish dressing."

      "And while she's doing that, I think I'll hit the showers," Carey spoke up.  She drew Sage aside.  "Don't show her up too badly, mi amor," she added in a low voice.  "She is your sister, after all.  And don't let that bitch get to you."

      Sage smiled reluctantly.  "I thought you said you wanted to kick her ass."

      "In this instance, I think I'd rather let you do it.  This is your specialty, not mine," Carey replied, drawing his head down to kiss him sweetly.  Sage returned the kiss, not caring if Yayoi was watching.

      "Don't be long," he told her.  Carey's eyes twinkled as she winked at him and headed for the showers.  Sage watched her go, smiling tenderly.

      "So it would seem my otōto has finally overcome his shyness around girls," came a silky remark in Japanese.  He turned to see Yayoi watching him with a smirk on her lips.

      "A shyness largely caused by you, may I remind you," Sage retorted, also in Japanese.  "I haven't forgotten how you used to torment me all those years ago, Yayoi.  It must really irk you that I've finally found someone who isn't intimidated by you."

      "A foreigner…an American, no less," Yayoi said dismissively.  "No manners."

      "Actually, her manners are better than yours," Sage replied coldly.  "At least Carey was polite, which is more than I can say for you.  And before you get on your 'Japanese superiority' high horse, you should remember that you and I are both half-American, thanks to our father."

      Yayoi's eyebrows rose.  "You're really serious about her, aren't you?  Could it be that my baby brother has fallen in love?"  When Sage didn't reply, Yayoi went on, "I don't approve of her, Seiji-chan…and neither would ojii-sama."

      "You know something, Yayoi?  I really don't give a damn what either you or Grandfather think."

      "I can remember a time when you wouldn't dare say that," Yayoi challenged.

      "Yes, so can I," Sage told his sister calmly.  "And thankfully that time is long gone, sister of mine.  I'm not the same little kid you used to torture anymore.  Oh, and if you're thinking of getting back at me by telling Carey about that enforced cross-dressing debacle when I was little, she already knows…and she's threatened to kick your ass for it.  And I should warn you out of fairness, Yayoi --- Carey may look small, but she grew up on the mean streets of Miami and she has a sixth-degree black belt in karate.  So don't think she's going to be a pushover."  He smiled at his sister's astounded look.  "Shouldn't you be warming up?" he asked sweetly.

      When Carey returned, the Date siblings' sparring match was already underway.  She sat on a bench along the wall and watched in fascination.  Even with Sage's patient tutoring, Carey still didn't really understand a lot that went on in a kendo match, but she knew experts when she saw them.  And it was obvious to even her relatively untrained eyes that Yayoi Date was very good.  She was fast and supple, and wielded the bamboo sword as if she had been born to it --- which she probably had, Carey mused.  A lesser opponent would have been defeated in no time.  But Sage deflected Yayoi's attacks with the fluid grace and skill of a master, and before long he had far outscored her.  Yayoi was good…but Sage was better, Carey thought proudly.

      Yayoi pulled off her mask.  "Well, Seiji, I see you haven't lost any of your skills."

"Did you think I would?" Sage retorted, and Carey took a perverse satisfaction in the fact that while Yayoi was flushed and breathing hard, Sage looked as if he'd just been for a leisurely stroll around the block.

Yayoi smiled faintly.  "Of course not --- Grandfather taught you well.  You really should come home to visit sometime and show him how well you've continued your training.  Oh, and you should bring your friend," she added with just the slightest trace of disdain.  "I'm sure the family would love to meet her…especially Grandfather."

When it snows in hell, Sage thought.  "Maybe sometime," was all he said.

Yayoi's smile deepened into a knowing smirk.  "You're not ashamed of her, are you?" she insinuated silkily.

"Yayoi, you really are a bitch.  And by the way, 'her' name is Carey," Sage reminded his sister.

"Call me whatever you like, otōto.  I at least take my friends home to meet our parents."  She gathered her gear and headed for the door, but stopped in the doorway.  "You should be careful, Seiji.  You don't want any untoward…gossip filtering back to the family, now do you?"  And with that parting shot, she was gone.

~~~~

      The reception at Kazuhara Gallery was in full swing.  Carey stood to one side, alternately watching Sage and fending off the advances of a small, rat-faced CEO who was at least two inches shorter than she was and who didn't seem to understand the word "no".  She watched as Sage smiled and bowed or shook hands politely and answered questions about the exhibit --- some sort of abstract art that to Carey looked like finger paintings, but to each his own, she reasoned.  She saw the people Sage spoke to smile and bow in return --- and she saw the way they smirked behind his back.  Some weren't even that subtle, but snubbed him outright, talking past him to Matsuka.  With each rejection Carey saw Sage's face tighten and his manner become even more cold and formal.  Ninety minutes into the party, he might as well have been sculpted from ice.

  Carey's heart ached for him.  The encounter with Yayoi earlier had left him seething, but all of her efforts to get him to talk about it had been gently but firmly rebuffed, and she had finally been forced to drop the subject.  Whatever Yayoi had said to Sage had obviously upset him, but he was not going to talk about it, and after being his lover for four months Carey knew when it was useless to push him.  So she simply watched and waited and silently cursed Japanese bigotry to hell.

"Gaijin," a voice hissed in her ear, making her start.  She turned her head to see Chairman Rat --- oh, damn it all, not him again --- standing beside her, stripping her with his beady black eyes.  "What?" she asked.

"That one over there," the man replied, indicating Sage with a dismissive wave.  "Gaijin --- foreigner.  He tries to act Japanese, but he never will be."

Carey glared at the man.  "He was born here.  He's lived here all his life.  One of his ancestors founded goddamned Sendai.  He's probably more Japanese than you are.  Besides, if you hate foreigners so much, why do you keep hitting on me?"  She was well aware that she was being rude but she really didn't care.

The rodent-faced man chuckled and leaned closer, and Carey recoiled from the stench of alcohol.  "That's different.  Western women are considered quite the catch --- not to marry, of course, but for other needs.  And lovely women like you are always sought after."  As Carey debated whether to dump her drink on his head or simply knee him in the groin, the man continued, "You're a dancer, aren't you?  I'm sure you've had wealthy and powerful men make you offers before.  Don't be coy, my girl.  I can do a lot for you."  He placed a hand suggestively on her shoulder.

Sage looked up at that moment and saw his lover's predicament.  Carey's eyes pleaded for rescue, but instead Sage's eyes hardened and his expression grew cold and distant.  He turned away to speak to an elderly woman, and Carey's temper boiled over.  Well, screw this, she thought furiously.

Chairman Rat was still rubbing her shoulder.  "Why don't we go talk about this somewhere a bit more…private?" he oozed.

Carey knocked his hand away with a lightning-fast motion.  "If you're so rich and powerful, go buy yourself a personality…and some higher heels," she snarled and stalked away, leaving him gaping after her like a gaffed fish.  She threaded her way through the crowd to Sage's side and caught his arm.  "We need to talk," she told him.

"Not now, Carey," came the emotionless reply.

"Now, Sage," Carey said in a low, dangerous voice.  Sage's lips tightened, but he made some excuse to one of his coworkers and led Carey back to his office, well away from the party.  He shut the door behind him and folded his arms across his chest.  "Well?" he demanded icily.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Carey lashed out.  "You've been stonewalling me ever since your bitch sister showed up this afternoon.  You drag me to this party with you even though you know I hate them, then you ignore me the whole night.  And when I needed your help with Rodent Boy back there, you just look away like you don't even give a damn.  You tell me you love me.  Is this how you prove it?"

"What exactly do you want me to do?" Sage retorted, as coldly as before.  "Demand that he remove his filthy hands from my woman?  Start a fight to avenge your honor?  If you wanted him gone so badly, Carey, I'm sure you could have handled it on your own…unless you didn't really want him gone."

Carey's eyes narrowed.  "You son of a bitch.  When in all this time have I ever made you think that I would be unfaithful to you?"

"Carey, I really don't have time for your temper tantrums now.  I'm supposed to be working."

      "Working?" Carey shot back.  "You think those people are the slightest bit interested in anything you have to say?  Wake up, Sage.  To all those 'real' Japanese people out there, you're a curiosity at best…and a joke at worst."

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, come on, Sage.  I know you've seen how they ignore you, how they laugh at you behind your back.  They think it's hilarious the way you're trying to be a proper nihonjin, you with your blonde hair and your white skin and those purple eyes --- purple eyes are a sign of the demon, did you know that?" Carey taunted.  "It's a losing battle trying to fit in, Sage.  Why do you even bother?"

"Because I have to," Sage snapped.  "This isn't the States, Carey.  Here you don't do your own thing.  Here you either fit in or you fail.  Simple as that.  You of all people should understand that --- after all, ballet is one of the most regimented art forms there is."

"Which is why I'm so unregimented when I'm not dancing."

"And which is why you'll always be an outsider," Sage told her flatly.  "You'll never fit in here."

"And neither will you," Carey retorted, her golden eyes flashing.  "You think those people will accept you if you shut down all your emotions and become some sort of perfectly-mannered robot?  Think again.  No matter how perfect and polite you are, no matter how noble your lineage or how well you play their game,  you'll never really be one of them.  Go ahead, do everything they ask of you.  Follow every rule in the book; it won't matter.  They will never accept you.  And if you want to know why, you don't have to look any farther than the nearest mirror."

Sage had gone very still.  "Damn you," he whispered.

"The truth hurts, doesn't it?  It must really eat away at you knowing that your sister will always be accepted here while you won't.  You and I, we're both outsiders.  The difference is that I've learned to accept that fact, and the sooner you do the better off you'll be."

"Don't you tell me how to live my life," Sage snarled, and Carey saw the beginnings of a fierce light in those violet eyes.  "You don't know me as well as you think you do, and when it comes to fitting in, I can do it a hell of a lot better than you ever will."

Carey set her hands on her hips.  "You think?" she challenged.  "Don't kid yourself, Sage.  That mask you wear isn't fooling anyone.  And before you start in about the mask I have to wear as a dancer, let me remind you that at least I know where my mask ends and I begin.  I can tell the difference between my public face and my real one.  Can you?  Or have you repressed your real self for so long you've forgotten you ever had one?"

Sage glared daggers at her.  The ice was cracking in earnest now.  "You bitch," he hissed.

"Well, now, isn't that interesting," Carey replied sarcastically.  "When a man speaks his mind, even if it's something nobody wants to hear, he's honest and straightforward.  When a woman does it, she's a bitch.  And this from a man who hates lies and hypocrisy.  But when you get right down to it, Sage, you're as big a hypocrite as anyone else.  Maybe bigger, because you refuse to see it."  Sage's eyes narrowed dangerously, and Carey moved in for the kill.  "Let me know when you feel like being human," she said scornfully and started to leave.

Sage was across the room in a flash, grabbing her by the shoulders and turning her roughly to face him.  "Oh, no, you don't," he growled.  "You started this fight.  You're not going to just walk away."

"You want to hit me, don't you?" Carey goaded him.  "You'd like nothing better than to hurt me the way I hurt you, but you're too goddamned noble to do it.  Well, don't hold back, Sage --- take your best shot."

"Shut up," Sage snapped.  She was hitting way too close to home.

"Why don't you make me?" Carey retorted, and Sage had to fight to keep a hold on his temper.  Carey saw it, and a look of disdain flashed across her face --- just before her hand hit his cheek in a stinging slap.  The sound echoed through the small office like the crack of a gunshot.

That did it.  Sage's control snapped; he dug his fingers into Carey's shoulders and shook her until her teeth rattled, then yanked her to him in a bruising kiss.  But instead of pushing him away, her arms wrapped around him and she pulled him closer, meeting him with an equal ferocity.  A red haze descended over Sage's consciousness; his rage and alienation and hurt shifted, transmuted into a uncontrollable dark hunger, a fierce, primal urge to take and be taken.  His jacket was suddenly incredibly confining and he struggled frantically out of it, never breaking contact with Carey's mouth.  Her nails raked at his back; he could feel the sting through the fabric of his shirt.  He shoved her back against his desk and felt her legs wrap around his waist, ensnaring him.  Something fell to the carpeted floor with a muffled crash.  There goes my inbox, he thought vaguely, and then rational thought became pretty much impossible.

~~~~

"Miyako, have you seen Sage?" Matsuka asked the gallery's secretary.

Miyako Kazue shrugged.  "He said his girlfriend wasn't feeling well, and he took her back to his office to rest.  I wish my husband was that considerate."

"Hmmm."  Matsuka looked down the hallway leading to the offices.  Sage had seemed somewhat unhappy tonight and she couldn't blame him; she had seen the snubs and smirks thrown his way and it had angered her.  And while she knew that Sage wasn't one to sulk…maybe she had better make sure that everything was all right.

"Kazuhara-san --- just the person I wanted to see," a voice boomed behind her.  Matsuka knew the man; head of an electronics company, with a great deal of money and a great lack of taste.  "That painting, the large canvas over there…it would make a perfect addition to my collection."

Matsuka smiled.  "Shiomari-san has excellent taste."  She had to keep herself from laughing out loud as she said it.  "But I believe the artist has reserved that piece for himself."

"Nonsense.  Come, Kazuhara-san --- perhaps we can persuade him to change his mind.  Even genius has to eat, ne?"  Matsuka's smile widened as Mr. Shiomari steered her over to where the artist stood.  Oh, yes, she could certainly persuade him…that piece was one of the ones he had wanted to go.  And if it netted the gallery a hefty commission in the process --- well, so much the better.

Her missing assistant was forgotten, and the party continued.

~~~~

      "You know, I'm going to have to write the people who make this so-called 'long-lasting' lipstick," Carey said as she checked her makeup.  "It may hold up through eating and drinking, but it's totally useless against wild spur-of-the-moment sex on my boyfriend's desk."

      "I can't believe we just did that," Sage groaned, looking thoroughly chagrined.

      "Stop looking so guilty.  It's not like anyone heard us, and we straightened up the desk."

      "That's not the point.  I've never behaved like that before," Sage told her.  "I don't know what the hell got into me."

      Carey shrugged.  "First time for everything, honey.  Besides, you're still on edge from that little clash with your sister today.  You needed to vent, and, well…this was certainly one of the more enjoyable ways to do it," she finished with a sly smile.

      Sage looked at her sharply, comprehension dawning in his violet eyes.  "You started that fight on purpose," he said slowly.  Now it was Carey's turn to look guilty, and Sage knew he had hit the nail squarely on the head.  "My God, you did," he accused, his anger returning.  "You deliberately provoked me into arguing with you and losing my temper and --- and practically ravishing you on top of my desk!" he yelled.

      "Well, not the ravishing on top of the desk part, but…."

      "Why?"

       Carey sighed.  "Because I knew that you were still mad from dealing with your hell-bitch of a sister, and then those narrow-minded bigots out there were snubbing you on top of that.  I could see you getting angrier and angrier and you just kept shoving it down.  You needed to get that anger out --- and I figured I was a safer target than most," she said in a small voice.

      "And what if I had hit you instead?" Sage raged at her.  "You've never seen me truly angry, Carey, you have no idea what I'm capable of.  What if I had really hurt you?"

      "I could have stopped you," Carey said, but suddenly she didn't sound quite so sure.

      "You don't know that," Sage replied flatly.   "Trust me, my love, you really don't know that."

      "I do trust you," Carey said softly.  "That's why I took a chance.  Sage, I didn't mean to embarrass you or anything, but I saw how you were trying so hard to be accepted by those people out there and it wasn't working and you just kept icing over and I could tell it hurt you so you just tried harder, and…and finally I just couldn't stand it anymore," she told him, the words tumbling out in a rush.

      Sage stared at her for a moment, then said, "You were right --- we do have to talk."  He snagged her swiftly around the waist and sat down in his desk chair, pulling Carey into his lap.  "And we're going to do that right now."

      "What in --- Sage, let me go."

      "No," came the firm reply.  "I've seen this before, Carey --- there is something about the idea of enforced conformity that freaks you out to no end.  And you are going to tell me what that something is if we have to sit here all night."

      "You wouldn't dare."

      "You think not?  Try me," Sage challenged her.

      "Sage, let go.  You're squashing me," Carey protested, struggling against the arms that imprisoned her like steel bands.

      "Not until you explain."

      "Damn you, Sage…all right, fine."  She subsided and glowered sullenly at him for a moment, then sighed.  "When I was fourteen, I was awarded a scholarship to study in New York at the School of American Ballet," she began.  "It's the most prestigious ballet school in America, if not the world --- training ground for the New York City Ballet, Balanchine's school.  And they don't take just anyone; you have to audition, you can't just walk in off the street and start taking lessons.  Out of the hundreds that audition every year, only a select few make the cut…and I was one of them.  Needless to say, I was over the moon.  I couldn't wait to get to New York and show those teachers just how good I really was.  My parents couldn't go with me, so I'd be living with a girl I had known a few years before and her mother; Monica was a year older than me and she was also going to SAB, and I thought it would be so great to have a friend there.  It was every young dancer's dream, and I was going to live it.

      "I got my first surprise when I arrived in New York.  I barely recognized Monica…she had gotten incredibly thin and fragile-looking.  But when I asked if she was okay, she told me very proudly that that was what the teachers at SAB liked to see.  They wanted their dancers very thin, very delicate.  I'll never forget the way she looked at me and said that I really should consider getting rid of my extra weight, otherwise I'd never make it at SAB.  Monica had gotten very obsessed with food and her weight, and her mother didn't help any, always telling her not to eat this or that because she'd get fat.  My friend who used to laugh and imitate our teachers behind their backs and fouetté until she was dizzy because she wanted to see what it felt like had turned into this vain, neurotic stranger whose hip bones nearly poked holes in her jeans, who counted every bite she ate and how many times she chewed it and who couldn't eat a single Hershey's Kiss without doing penance.  But I thought it was just some weird Monica thing, that maybe she wasn't confident enough in her dancing and this was how she compensated.  I wouldn't have that problem, though, because I knew I was special; everyone always told me so.  And I had made it to SAB, hadn't I?

         "My first day of class, I was ready to go.  My teacher was this elderly Russian woman who had danced with the Kirov in the 1930's before she defected to the States.  I don't even remember her name; we always just called her 'Madame'.  I took my place at the barre and listened to her instructions and then made sure I did exactly as she said.  I listened to her as she walked along the barre correcting the other dancers and I corrected myself; leg straight, ribs up, chin lifted, shoulders down.  By the time she got to me I thought she'd finally see something worthy of at least a nod.  So there I was, pulled up in a straight line, my hand just barely touching the barre, my leg extended to its fullest in what I thought was the most beautiful developpé I had ever seen…and along comes Madame."

      Carey stared into space, her eyes darkening at the memory.  "Madame always carried this thin, light little cane that she'd use to beat time or demonstrate alignment.  I still remember the way it sounded when she'd wave it throught the air, that soft little swish, like she was conducting an orchestra.  She stopped beside me and I stood there, straight and tall, just waiting for her approval.  She stared at me for a second…and then that cane hit my thigh.  'Fat', she said.  She hit my ribs.  'Fat.'  She hit my backside.  'Fat, fat, fat,' she told me.  She didn't hit hard enough to bruise, just enough to sting.  She hit my upper arm, my back, my other leg, all the while telling me that I was fat.  Then she gave me the most contemptuous look I'd ever seen, like I disgusted her beyond words...and she walked away.  She didn't look at me or say another word to me for the rest of the class; it was like I didn't even exist.  And if I didn't exist for Madame, then I didn't exist for anyone else, either.  By the time class was over I just wanted to crawl into a hole somewhere…so much for my grand arrival at SAB."

      "She thought you were fat?" Sage asked incredulously.  "Was she blind?  Carey, I don't think you've ever been fat in your life."

      "And I wasn't then," Carey agreed quietly.  "What I was was a developing fourteen-year-old girl.  I had breasts and hips and, well, curves --- small ones, maybe, but they were still curves.  And back home in Miami, that was a good thing; Hispanic women are traditionally shapely.  Even the skinniest Hispanic woman will have some curves to her, because that's the way our men like us."

      "Works for me," Sage murmured, his hand creeping along her hip.

      Carey slapped his hand away.  "Do you want to hear this or not?"

      "Sorry.  I'll behave."

      Carey sighed and shook her head.  "Maybe if it had just been Monica telling me I was too heavy I wouldn't have minded so much.  After all, it's one thing to have a fifteen-year-old with a complex telling you you're fat.  But I was a lonely young girl far away from home and the people who had always encouraged me, and in my eyes the teachers at SAB were the closest thing to God.  They came from the Kirov, the Bolshoi, the NYCB.  They had danced for Mr. B.; some of them had danced with him.  They were the ultimate authorities, and I was desperate to please them.  If they said I was too heavy, then I was too heavy.  If they thought I was too flashy, well, then, I was doing something wrong.  They wanted someone quiet, demure, and obedient, someone who would do exactly as she was told and never question or complain.  That was what a real dancer should be.

      "So I tried.  I toned down my dancing, making sure I was no better or no worse than anyone else, not calling attention to myself.  I watched my diet more carefully, and I lost weight.  And for the first time the teachers started to praise what I was doing.  For the first time, they noticed me in a good way.  So I tried harder.  I skipped meals, I practiced every day, I devoted myself body and soul to ballet.  If I hurt, I suffered in silence.  If I was hungry, I refused to give in to what I saw as a weakness.  If I was unhappy, I fought back the tears and smiled anyway.  I had become the perfect little ballet robot.

      "Six months into my stay in New York, my parents came to visit me.  The looks on their faces when they first saw me --- I thought my mother was going to faint.  I had gone from being 5'3" and 100 pounds to being 5'3" and 75 pounds.  My arms were like sticks, my collarbone stuck out, and you could count every one of my ribs.  I barely had the energy to get through my daily classes, never mind having any kind of social life.  Some days my daily food intake was yogurt and an apple, and I often worried that even that was too much.  Mom and Dad were horrified.  They kept telling me that something was wrong, that I had a problem.  But I had been more or less on my own for six months, and I knew everything.  The teachers at SAB approved of me; what did my parents know?  So I kept insisting that I was just fine, that nothing was wrong with me --- right until the moment I passed out on the stairs at SAB."

      Sage's eyes widened.  Carey went on, "I was lucky.  I walked away from that little episode with only a lot of bruises.  But it gave me something to think about.  I realized that I could have been seriously hurt, and that would have derailed if not destroyed my dancing career.  I had terrified my parents, I felt like hell, I barely even recognized myself in the mirror anymore.  I had given up every little bit of joy in my life, and for what?  My life now revolved around calories and my weight and whether I was thinner than my classmates, not around actually dancing.  My parents sent me to a psychologist who diagnosed me as having both anorexia nervosa and depression.  He recommended that I quit ballet, but I knew if I did that it would only make me feel worse and we'd all be right back where we started.

      "My parents gave me an ultimatum.  I could stay in New York, but not with Monica and her mom; Monica was anorexic as well and my parents thought it wasn't a healthy environment.  Mom arranged for me to stay with one of her old ballet contacts, a woman with a husband and two kids, neither of whom danced.  I was to eat what Mrs. Santos fed me and I was to get myself back up to a reasonable, healthy weight and stay there.  I also had to see a shrink every week, a woman who specialized in adolescents with eating disorders.  I couldn't miss an appointment for anything less than a dire, life-threatening emergency.  If I broke even one of these rules, even once, I would be on my way back to Miami.

      "At first I was furious.  I didn't understand how they could do this to me; didn't they see how important it was for me to dance at SAB, to establish myself?  So what if I didn't eat much --- I was going to be a ballerina.  But thankfully I managed to inherit a hefty dose of their common sense.  If I kept on the way I had been doing, I'd kill or at the very least ruin myself, and that would kind of mess up my stellar career.  I wanted to enjoy dancing again, and I couldn't do that when it exhausted me just to climb the stairs.  And I had to decide what was more important --- being liked by a group of crusty old ballet teachers who would only know me for a short while, or liking myself for the rest of my life?  So I made up my mind; I was going to keep dancing, I still loved it, but from now on I was going to do it on my terms.  I gained my weight back and got healthy again, and suddenly I could dance again.  I could do the huge jumps, the endless turns, I could get through a class and not hold back and still have energy left over while everyone else looked about ready to collapse.  And the teachers noticed --- now, ironically, they complimented me on my elevation, my energy, my risk-taking, when before they had told me to tone it down.  By the time I left SAB two years later, I promised myself that I would never fall into the trap of trying to please everyone else again, not if it meant losing myself.  I would try to fit in as best I could, but in the end I still had to respect the woman I saw in the mirror every morning.  If I couldn't do that…well, goodbye conformity."

      Carey sighed.  "I suppose sometimes I go a little overboard.  But I can't help it --- I look at those schoolkids forced into the same mold, I see you trying so hard to belong, and it scares me, because I know where it can lead.  Even now, I still have days when I look at you and wonder what you see in me, days when I think, Why can't I be more like everyone else?  You know, maybe if I were quieter or less assertive or if my dancing wasn't so flashy, maybe people would accept me, maybe I'd actually be worthy of you.  But I just can't do it…I can't take that risk again.  I'm not sure I'm strong enough to win this time," she mused.

      Sage traced two fingers along her jawline.  "Carey, I love you just the way you are…you know that," he said gently.

      Carey shrugged.  "I know, but I'm still afraid.  Sage, when I look at you, I see so much light and passion and…and life.  But you smother it behind that perfect, emotionless mask because that's what other people demand from you; no one will accept the real you.  I want to give you what you've given me: someone who accepts you as you are, somewhere where you don't have to be perfect all the time.  You try so hard and give so much to live up to everyone else's ideal…I just want you to feel like there's someone in this world who thinks you're already ideal," she finished softly.

      Sage felt his throat constrict at the honest emotion in her words, and for the first time in his life he had absolutely no idea what to say.  He took her face between his hands and kissed her tenderly on the forehead, then rested his forehead against hers and just held her close. 

      A knock on the door brought them both back to reality.  Matsuka poked her head around the edge of the door.  "Sage…ah, there you are," she said.  She opened the door more fully and walked into the office as Sage and Carey quickly got to their feet.  "The guests are starting to leave and I didn't want to accidentally lock you in here all night."

      "Oh, no…Matsuka, I'm really sorry," Sage apologized.  "I've been hiding in here all night when I should have been helping you out there."

      "It's all right," Matsuka reassured him with a smile.  "Miyako told me that Carey had taken ill, and you haven't been gone that long.  Things were starting to wind down anyway when you left.  But Mr. Takashi would like to talk to you about a painting he has his eye on --- he says he was very impressed with your knowledge.  I just told him he had better not be impressed enough to try and lure you away from my gallery," she said archly, and Sage had to smile.

      "Not much chance of that," he replied.  "I'll go catch Mr. Takashi before he leaves.  Carey, will you be okay?"

      Carey nodded.  "I'll be fine.  Go on, Sage --- I've kept you from your duties long enough."  Sage gently touched her cheek and left the office.

      Matsuka eyed Carey speculatively.  "Are you feeling better, dear?"

      "Yes, thank you, Kazuhara-san.  I really do have to apologize for dragging Sage away like that."

      Matsuka dismissed the younger woman's apologies with a wave of her hand.  "Nonsense.  Sage is an excellent worker and the best assistant I've ever had.  I can't be angry because he has a good heart as well."  She gave Carey a meaningful look.  "That's a good man you have there, Navarro-san…a very good man."

      Carey gazed down the hall in the direction Sage had gone.  "Don't I know it," she agreed simply.

~~~~

      The next day, Sage dialed his family's home in Sendai.  "Hi, Mom…it's me.  How would you feel about getting the family together soon?  There's someone I'd like you to meet."

~~~~

    "I don't know how you manage to stay so calm at a time like this," Sage remarked.

      Carey gazed serenely out the passenger-side window of Sage's car.  "Muscle memory.  When you've been performing for almost twenty years, you learn how to look very calm and composed, even when you feel like you're about to throw up.  It comes in handy right about now."  She slanted a glance at her lover.  "You know, I don't think I've ever seen you this antsy.  We're meeting your family, sweetheart, not facing a firing squad."

      "Somehow I think I'd prefer the firing squad," Sage muttered.  "It's just that I haven't brought a girl home in years, and to make matters worse, Yayoi has a head start on us.  God only knows what she's been telling Mom and Dad."

      "Probably that I'm somewhere between Mata Hari and the Whore of Babylon, and that I've corrupted you beyond all hope of redemption," Carey replied wryly.  "She doesn't really like me, does she?"

Sage had to smile at that understatement.  "Don't take it personally.  Yayoi doesn't really like anyone.  I think she only tolerates me and Satsuki because we're related to her."

"And you have my heartfelt sympathy for that little accident of birth," Carey said with feeling.  Sage laughed.

      The car turned into the driveway leading to the Date home.  Carey eyed the sprawling building askance.  "My God, Sage, this place is huge.  You didn't tell me you lived in a compound."

      Sage shrugged.  "Actually, most of it is the dojo.  The house itself really isn't all that large."  He parked the car and got out to open her door.  "Ready?"

Carey slipped her hand into his and unfolded gracefully to her full height.  "Hey, if I can dance Romeo and Juliet for the Emperor of Japan, I can certainly handle meeting your folks.  Or at least that's what I keep telling myself," she finished with a rueful little smile.

Sage smiled and kissed her hand.  "Then it's showtime, koibito."  He offered her his arm and they headed up the neatly-raked gravel walk to the house. 

A squeal of  "Ni-chan!" broke the early afternoon calm, and Sage and Carey both stopped in their tracks as a small, raven-haired young woman hurtled out of the house and launched herself at Sage.  Sage caught her easily, lifting her off her feet as she threw her arms around his neck.  "Satsuki, you haven't changed a bit," he teased her.

"Don't fuss at me, Seiji ni-chan.  It's not my fault you never come home to visit," Satsuki Date scolded as her brother set her gently on her feet.  She looked over at the young woman who stood quietly by Sage's side, watching the siblings' reunion with a wistful smile.  "Is this Carey?"

      Sage made the introductions as Satsuki eyed Carey with open interest.  "Mom and Dad and Grandfather are all waiting for you, Sage.  Yayoi's even here," she added with a roll of her eyes that eloquently expressed her opinion of the eldest Date sibling.  "She's been regaling Mom with tales of your 'American girlfriend'."

      "Really?  I'm surprised she can even remember Carey's name," Sage replied dryly.  "She certainly couldn't manage it for the all of ten minutes she actually spent with her."

      Satsuki shrugged.  "You know Yayoi," she said matter-of-factly.

      Indeed he did, and Sage resolved to have it out with his older sister at some time in the very near future.  But there was no time for that now; they entered the house and went into the living room, where the rest of the Date family awaited them.

      Sage had to admit that he had been concerned about introducing his feisty, no-nonsense lover to his rather proper and formal family.  But he needn't have worried; Carey was a true professional.  She greeted his family courteously, apologizing for any lapses in etiquette she might make; she was still learning, she explained quietly.  She wore a simple sweater and skirt that looked more expensive than it really was and had drawn her hair back at her temples, letting the rest hang loose to her shoulders.  The overall effect was one of grace, breeding, and classic elegance, and Sage could not have been prouder of her.  He squeezed her hand as the family headed into dinner.  "I love you," he whispered.  Carey returned the squeeze and winked at him.

      Dinner went better than Sage could have hoped.  Carey set out to charm most of the Date family --- Yayoi she didn't even bother with --- and for the most part she succeeded.  Jason Date was delighted when he found out that Carey's father was a homicide detective in Miami; his son could do worse than to date a fellow cop's daughter, he decided.  Megumi Date was impressed with the young dancer's elegant manners and in particular her patience with Satsuki, who kept pestering Carey for details on the fascinating world of professional ballet. 

If there was a dark spot anywhere, Sage thought, it was his grandfather and Yayoi.  Yayoi he wasn't too worried about; after all, he hadn't expected her to welcome Carey with open arms.  He was actually surprised that Yayoi was being --- for her --- rather polite, contenting herself with small digs at him and at Carey, the latter of which were neatly deflected.  But Masuhiro Date had returned Carey's greeting with icy politeness and then had remained ominously silent throughout the meal, his unspoken disapproval casting an awkward pall over the table.  Sage knew his grandfather still had ambitions of arranging a match for him, but he was determined not to give the old man the chance.  Carey was behaving beautifully, and there was nothing about her that Grandfather could take exception to, Sage thought fiercely --- except that she wasn't Japanese.

      After dinner, the group returned to the living room.  Masuhiro listened to the conversation for a while, then spoke up.  "So, Seiji…when do you intend to fulfill your responsibility to this family and come home?" he boomed.

Sage glanced at Carey.  "We've been through this before, ojii-sama," he replied patiently.  "I have a job in the city as well as a home there.  You don't need me right now, and I enjoy working at the gallery."

"A mere diversion," the old man scoffed.  "This dojo is our family's life, our legacy.  Your place is here."

"Maybe your life revolves around kendo, but mine doesn't," Sage retorted.  Carey squeezed his hand.  "Sage," she murmured warningly.

Grandfather Date turned his attention on her.  "And you, young woman?" he demanded.  "Do you practice kendo?"

      "Seiji is teaching her," Yayoi murmured slyly.  Sage shot her a poisonous glare.

"Actually, it's more of a kendo-appreciation course," Carey replied, trying to step into the breach.  "I have a partner who's an enthusiast, and this helps me understand what he and Sage are talking about.  Personally, I prefer hand-to-hand fighting methods, but I can certainly appreciate the hard work that it takes to become as skilled as Sage is."

      "Carey has a sixth-degree black belt in karate," Sage told his grandfather. 

Masuhiro ignored him.  "So you have no intention of becoming a kendo practitioner," he said with obvious disapproval.

Sage seethed inwardly, but Carey smiled.  "Well, sir, Sage has no intention of joining NBT's corps de ballet, but we can each appreciate and support the other's work, so I think it's a fair trade," she explained politely.  Satsuki hid a grin behind her hand and Jason Date's lips twitched with barely suppressed amusement.  Nicely done, my love, Sage thought.  He knew what his grandfather was trying to do and it infuriated him, but he couldn't confront the old man without embarrassing both himself and Carey.

      Megumi Date, seeing the displeasure on her father's face, quickly attempted to smooth things over by changing the subject.  They chatted about neutral topics for a while, but Sage felt the unease in the air.  He was sorely tempted to make their excuses and leave; he knew the trial wasn't over yet.

      Suddenly Yayoi decided to enter the conversation.  "Isn't it an American custom to show a guest old family photos?" she asked guilelessly.  "Perhaps Carey-san would like to see some of ours."

"Yayoi, I put those albums away," Megumi told her eldest daughter.

"That's all right.  I have some with me," Yayoi replied.  Sage felt his stomach churn --- he didn't know what Yayoi was up to, but he was positive it wasn't good.  Yayoi drew a small photograph from her purse and handed it to Carey.  "This is one of my favorites," she said sweetly.

Sage glanced at the photo and froze.  It was the old picture Yayoi had taken of him when he was five and had been forced to dress as a girl, the one where Yayoi, then ten, had tied brightly colored ribbons in his blonde hair.  Damn you to hell, Yayoi, Sage thought furiously, torn between nausea and rage.  He reached for the picture, but Carey's tight grasp on it stopped him.  Surprised, he looked at his lover.

Carey's face could have been a mask for all the expression she showed.  She stared at the photo for a long moment, unmoving except for the slight rise and fall of her breathing.  Then she slowly raised her gaze to Yayoi, whose triumphant smirk quickly faded at the blazing hatred in those golden eyes.  If looks could kill, Yayoi would have been vaporized on the spot.  "Sage told me once about how you used to torment him," Carey finally said, very quietly and evenly.  "I promised both myself and him that if I ever met you I would kick your tail for that.  But it's considered rude to demolish you in your parents' home, so I'll have to settle for this."  And with that, she deliberately ripped the photo in half, then ripped it in half again.

      The silence was deafening.  Sage saw the shock on the faces of his family; Yayoi and his mother had both gone white, his father looked grim, Satsuki's eyes were as big as dinner plates, and his grandfather wore an expression like a thundercloud.  Carey placed the remains of the photo on the coffee table and rose gracefully to her feet.  She fixed that laser-beam glare on Yayoi for a moment longer, then turned to the rest of the Dates.  "Thank you for your hospitality," she said quietly.  "Please excuse me."  She bowed courteously to them, then left the room without another word or even a glance at Sage.

 No one moved or spoke for several heartbeats.  Finally Masuhiro Date broke the silence.  "Yayoi, Satsuki, you will both leave the room," he ordered.  "Seiji, you will remain."  When Yayoi and Satsuki had left --- rather hurriedly, Sage noted --- Masuhiro turned his attention to his grandson.  "That girl is unsuitable, and you are forbidden to see her again," he commanded without preamble.  "I will begin arranging a match for you at once.  You will be married to a proper nihonjin girl of good family before the end of the year; I will see to it."

      "You will not."  The words sliced through the air like a razor blade.

      Masuhiro Date looked thunderstruck.  "You dare to defy me, Seiji?  You will do as you are told."

      "No," Sage replied coldly.  "Not this time."  He rose to his feet and faced his grandfather.  "What is it about Carey that really bothers you, Grandfather --- the fact that she's not Japanese or the fact that she stood up to you and Yayoi?"

      "Her behavior was shameful.  She disgraced you and this family."

"No, Grandfather.  You disgraced us, you and Yayoi, the way you acted toward Carey.  You were determined to dislike her the minute she walked into this house.  You didn't even give her a chance!" Sage retorted angrily.  "Then Yayoi pulled out that damned picture and you didn't do a thing to stop her, you never have.  Carey only did what one of you should have done a long time ago," he added, glaring accusingly at his family.  "She behaved a lot better than you did, and you have the nerve to call her unsuitable?  God, you're a hypocrite."

      "Enough, Seiji," Grandfather thundered.  "This family has indulged your whims for far too long.  It is past time you settled down and remembered your responsibility to us."

"Whims?  What 'whims' are you talking about, Grandfather?  And since when have any of you ever 'indulged' me in anything?" Sage demanded.  "For as long as I can remember, I've always been the one who's been judged and restricted and shoved into your idea of what a 'proper Japanese son' should be.  I had to fight you tooth and nail for every little bit of freedom I ever had, and even then I always had to make sure that nothing I did would bring shame or embarrassment to the great and noble Date name.  I graduated with honors from both high school and college, I've become well-respected in my field, I've won countless kendo tournaments, I've never even gotten so much as a speeding ticket.  But none of that is good enough for you," he said bitterly.  "You've always demanded more from me, way more than you've ever demanded from Yayoi or Satsuki.  And now you think you can just order me to give up the woman I love and stick me into an arranged marriage?  No, Grandfather.  And that's final."

      "Are you giving me an ultimatum, Seiji?" Masuhiro replied threateningly.

"Stop calling me that!  My name is Sage!" Sage snapped.  He struggled to calm himself.  "And to answer your question, yes, I am.  You say that Carey disgraced the family.  But I warn you, Grandfather; if you try to marry me off against my will, 'disgrace' will be a kind way of describing what I'll do to this family's name.  This is my life, not yours.  Stay the hell out of it."  Masuhiro's glare would have had most people cowering in fear, but Sage was too enraged to care.

      "Seiji, you try my patience.  You will do as you are told, or you will regret it."

      "And what are you going to do?  I'm a grown man now, Grandfather.  You can't beat me or lock me in the basement anymore."

      "I can disown you," Masuhiro said coldly. 

      Once upon a time, that threat would have been enough to bring him to heel, Sage realized.  But now…He looked at his grandfather, and it was as if he was seeing the old man for the first time.  Why had he never noticed how cold, how utterly unloving and rigid the man was?  Would he, in time, have turned into that?  If not for Carey's faith and unswerving love…He took a deep breath, and a sense of calm strength settled over him.  "Yes, you can," he agreed quietly.  "And if you feel that that's what you have to do, then go ahead.  I'm sure Yayoi will lead the family well, probably better than I could --- after all, Yayoi doesn't have any bothersome human feelings to worry about.  She'll do exactly as you tell her, right down to the man she marries and how many children they have.  But I don't need this family to survive.  I think I've proved that pretty well by now."

"Sage…" his mother spoke up for the first time.  Sage smiled sadly at her.

      "Mom, Dad…I love all of you, and I didn't want it to come to this," he said gently.  "But I've given all I can to this family.  It's time I lived my own life now."

      "You'd leave the family for a girl?" Megumi asked hesitantly.

"Not just a girl, Mother.  The woman I love, the only woman I've ever really loved.  And to be honest, this isn't even about Carey.  All my life, I've wanted to be my own person, to break out of the mold you all forced me into, but I was too afraid of being rejected.  It was just easier to play along.  But now I know that I can make it on my own, that I have something worthwhile to offer outside of my family name.  There are people out there who can appreciate me for who I am, for what I know and what I can do.  Carey just happens to be one of them."  He bowed politely to his parents and grandfather.  "Oyasumi nasai, okaasan, otousan…ojii-sama."

      He found Carey in the garden, sitting disconsolately on a bench beneath a willow tree, looking very small and alone.  She glanced at him for a moment, and even in the twilight he could see that she had been crying.  "I'm sorry," she murmured unhappily.  "I guess I blew it, didn't I?"

      "Shhh, baby, it's all right," Sage comforted her, gathering her into his arms.  She tried to pull away, but he just held her tightly.  "No, Carey, don't turn away from me, sweetheart.  It's okay."

      She wouldn't meet his eyes.  "I only wanted to make you proud of me, and instead I humiliated you in front of your whole family," she choked.  Sage's heart ached at the pain in her voice, and he knew what she must be thinking.  She had tried so hard to fit in, to show that she was worthy, and she had failed…again.

"Oh, Carey…look at me."  He caught her chin in his fingers and gently but firmly tilted her face up to his.  "You did make me proud, darling, prouder than I've ever been in my life.  You behaved beautifully tonight, and I couldn't have asked any more of you."

      "Right up until your sister handed me that stupid picture," Carey muttered.

"Even then," Sage replied firmly.  He took a deep breath.  "Do you realize that you're the first person who has ever stood up to Yayoi like that for me?  She's made my life hell for years, but nobody has ever confronted her for the bully that she is --- not my friends, not my family.  But you did, Carey…and you were magnificent," he said fiercely, his voice shaking with emotion.

      Carey didn't seem convinced.  "Your family must be furious, especially your grandfather."

      "They'll get over it," Sage told her, trying to sound more confident than he actually was.  "Come on, it's getting late.  We should head home."  Carey just nodded mutely and let him lead her to the car.  None of the Dates emerged from the house to see them off, Sage noticed, and he felt a surge of anger at his family's pettiness.  Not that he had expected them to come running out proclaiming the error of their ways, but still…it would have been nice to be proven wrong for once.  Carey noticed the absence too, and her shoulders drooped slightly.  The ride back to Sage's apartment was made in silence.

      As they prepared for bed, Sage finally spoke.  "It doesn't matter what they think," he said.

      "No," Carey agreed quietly, but her smile was sorrowful.  "It doesn't."  The words sounded hollow even to them.  They lay in the darkness, clinging desperately to one another.  It was a long time before either one of them could fall asleep.

~~~~

Sage didn't even look up from his computer when the knock sounded on his office door.  "Come in," he called.

      "Sage?"

      The voice jerked his head up, and he stared in disbelief at his visitor.  "Mother?  What are you doing here?"

      Megumi Date smiled hesitantly at her son.  "I came to see you.  I was hoping you would be free for lunch --- unless you're meeting Carey," she added tentatively.

      "What, you don't want to be seen with such an 'unsuitable' companion?" Sage shot back.

      "Actually, I just didn't want to intrude," Megumi replied patiently.  She paused.  "You're still angry about what happened the other night, aren't you?"

      Sage leaned back in his chair and fixed his mother with a cynical gaze.  "Because you treated my girlfriend like a pariah and Yayoi humiliated me with that damned picture and Grandfather threatened to disown me if I didn't agree to an arranged marriage?  Now what on earth makes you think I would be angry about that, Mother?"

      "Because you only call me 'Mother' when you're unhappy," Megumi said wryly.  "Where is Carey, anyway?"

      "At the studios," Sage replied shortly.  "She's going to Seattle in a week to teach at a summer intensive, and she has a lot to do before then --- plus it gives her an excuse to avoid me," he added with resentment.  "Mom, I don't mean to be rude, but is there something you want?  I really am busy."

      Megumi stared at her son for a moment, then closed his office door firmly behind her and sat down.  "I think that answers my first question.  I also think that you and I need to have a good long talk."

      "Maybe later.  I happen to be working now.  Besides, you've already made your opinion of Carey pretty clear.  You can't possibly understand how I feel about her, and I'm tired of trying to convince you."

      "Are you so sure I don't understand?" Megumi demanded.  "You wouldn't even be here if I didn't."  She smiled wryly when Sage looked up at her.  "Sage, when I first started dating your father, I had my whole future planned out.  I was going to enjoy my romantic little fling with the handsome blonde American who had come to study at my family's dojo, but when it was over I would be a dutiful daughter and marry a good Japanese man that my parents chose for me, a man who would bring honor to the Date name and a good bloodline to our family tree.  I kept on telling myself that all throughout the months Jason and I dated, even though it was becoming increasingly unappealing, because I was of the Date and I would always put my family first.  But all that changed when Jason asked me to marry him."

      She had Sage's full attention now, and Megumi went on.  "Suddenly I was faced with a choice I had never thought I would have to make.  On the one hand, I wanted to be a good daughter and bring my family honor.  But I also had to face the fact that I loved Jason more than anything in the world and, under any other circumstances, would have accepted him immediately.  I knew that whatever I chose, someone was going to be unhappy; if I married Jason my parents would be displeased, but if I chose to make an arranged marriage I would hurt the man I loved.  I thought long and hard about it for a few days, but finally I knew what I had to do.

      "First I went to my father.  I told him that I loved him and Mother very much, and that I wanted to make them proud of me.  But if I had learned one thing from his training, it was that a true samurai --- a true warrior --- stands by what he believes to be right.  He listens to that inner voice and holds firm to his convictions, even when others disapprove or don't understand.  I could do no less.  I told him that I respected his wisdom and the things he had taught me, and now it was time for me to live up to those teachings.  Then I went to your father…and told him 'yes'."

      Megumi smiled at her son.  "It wasn't an easy thing to do, and it took a while to mend the fences, but I've never regretted my decision, Sage.  I've been happily married for more than thirty years to a man I adore, and we have three beautiful children who have grown up to be good, wise, and strong adults.  No, dearest, I don't have any regrets."

      Sage had gone very still.  "Are you telling me what I think you're telling me?"

      "Sage, you were right when you said we had always expected more from you than from your sisters.  You were also right when you said that you had tried so hard to give us what we expected, that you had never brought the family dishonor.  You have always made us proud, even though we didn't tell you that nearly as often as we should have.  But you are a man now, and it's time for us to let you choose your own path.  Do you love her?"

      Sage knew exactly what she was asking him.  "Yes," he said firmly.  "I love her."  He didn't elaborate --- he didn't have to.  Megumi Date nodded.

      "Do you remember when you were fifteen, and Shingo Kazamatsuri challenged you to a duel?  He cheated, but you had the courage to draw dishonor to yourself to protect him.  That was what Carey did the other night.  She risked your grandfather's wrath to defend you from Yayoi, and that took the same kind of courage.  You are a true warrior --- and so is she."  She gazed intently at Sage.  "Your grandfather has taught you many wise things over the years; now it's my turn.  Sage, real love isn't just passion or the heat of the moment.  Real love is waking up in the morning beside your lover and knowing that this is where you truly belong."  Sage's breath caught in his throat as Megumi went on, "Real love is feeling like you've found the other half of your soul, someone who accepts you just as you are, someone you would fight to the death to protect and who would do the same for you.  And if you're lucky enough to find that, reach out for it with both hands and hold fast to it, no matter what anyone else says…because if you let it get away you may never find it again." 

      Megumi rose to her feet.  "I've taken up enough of your time; I know you have a lot to do."  She kissed her son's cheek, then headed for the door.  At the door, however, she paused and looked back.  "Follow your heart, Sage," she said kindly.  "No matter where it leads you…follow your heart."

      Sage stared after her for a long while.  Then a smile began to blossom over his face.  Whistling softly to himself, he reached for the telephone directory and began to search through it.  He had a lot to do in the next few days, and he needed to get started.

   ~~~~

      Carey had been unusually subdued throughout the meal, but Sage chalked that up to overwork and nervousness over the impending Seattle trip.  The surprise he had planned for after dinner would be sure to cheer her up, he thought happily.

      Finally the meal was over.  Sage cleared the plates from the table and returned to his seat opposite Carey.  She didn't look at him but instead focused her attention on her wine, swirling the ruby liquid around in her glass as if seeking an answer in its depths, a pensive and, he thought, rather sad look on her lovely face.  "Carey," Sage urged gently.

      Carey started slightly, her amber eyes wide as her gaze met his.  "Sorry," she said after a moment.  "I guess I'm not very good company tonight, am I?  And you went to so much trouble to fix dinner."

      "It's all right.  You've got a lot on your mind, don't you?" Sage commiserrated.  "You've been running yourself ragged getting ready for Seattle, and then when you get back you'll have to start rehearsals for the new season --- you're going to be busy."

      "Yes," Carey agreed sadly.  "I am."

      "You know what?  You need something to cheer you up, and I think I have just the thing."  Sage fished a small box from his pocket and opened it, setting it on the table facing Carey.  Nestled among black velvet, the simple, graceful diamond solitaire sparkled under the light.  "Carey," Sage said softly, tenderly, "will you marry me?"

      He expected her to say something, to throw her arms around him, at least to smile.  She didn't move, just sat there staring at the ring, her beautiful hands limp on the tablecloth.  The silence stretched for several uncomfortable moments.  Then she spoke, in a voice so small and fragile he almost had to strain to hear it.  "Sage…I can't."

      Sage was taken aback by her lack of enthusiasm, but he wasn't about to give up that easily.  "Carey, I love you," he said earnestly.  "I want to spend the rest of my life with you.  I know it might not be easy --- we both work long hours, and you'll have to tour sometimes --- but I think we can make it work.  I at least want to try, Carey.  Will you marry me?"

      "I love you, too, but --- "  Carey took a deep breath and lifted her head.  A fine mist of tears shimmered in her eyes.  "Sage, you know I'm leaving for Seattle tomorrow."

      "Yeah, I know," Sage replied, perplexed.  "But I'm not saying we have to get married tomorrow, honey.  I can wait at least until you get back."

      "That's just it," Carey said.  Her tone was gentle and hesitant, as if someone had died.  "Sage…I don't think I'll be coming back."

      In an instant all the life seemed to have been sucked from the room.  The air around Sage felt heavy and suffocating, like the dust after the explosion of a bomb, and it was several moments before he could get his voice to work again.  "You're not coming back," he repeated numbly.

      "I've been on the phone with the directors of Pacific Northwest Ballet these last few days," Carey went on.  "One of their principals is retiring, but they don't really feel like any of the soloists are ready to move up yet.  They want to bring some new blood into the company.  They haven't made a formal offer yet, but Kent Stovall has strongly hinted that he'd like to bring me on board, and that my teaching at their intensive will be a sort of tryout.  I've only been a principal dancer for about a year, and I'm still a relative unknown outside of Japan.  For an internationally known company to take me on like this --- it's an incredible honor, Sage."

      "Yeah…yeah, it is, " Sage agreed dully.  "When were you going to tell me?"

      Carey lowered her gaze.  "Tonight," she said quietly.

      Sage closed his violet eyes briefly against the sudden, tight pain in his chest.  I was planning to propose to her, and she was planning to tell me goodbye.  I wonder if it's possible to hear your own heart break.  When he opened them again, she was watching him, a look of deep sorrow in her eyes.  "Why?" he asked.

      Carey sighed deeply.  "Sage, you know I've never been truly happy here.  You're the only thing that ever really made it worthwhile."

      "But not worthwhile enough for you to stay," Sage said bitterly.

      "Oh, God, Sage, that's not true," Carey burst out.  Her eyes filled with tears, and she had to reach for her napkin to dab them away.  "If it were only you…but it's not."

      "You mean my family."

      "Yes, I mean your family."  Carey struggled to maintain some semblance of composure.  "Sage, I love you so much.  But I know how important your family is to you.  I can't ask you to turn your back on them for my sake."

      "Carey, my mother came to visit me a few days ago.  She gave us her blessing."

      "No, love.  She gave you her blessing…to date me, not marry me.  And there's still the rest of your family to contend with."  

      "I don't care what they think, any of them," Sage said desperately.

      "Maybe not now.  But what's going to happen a year from now?  How will you feel five, ten years down the road, when you're cut off from your family, your home?  How will you feel when you have to miss Satsuki's wedding, or your parents' anniversary?  How will you explain to our children that they can't see their grandparents?  And even if they do let you back into the fold, they won't accept me.  Then you'll be torn between your family and me, and you'll wind up resenting both of us."

      Sage struggled against it, but he knew she was right.  His mother may have seen Carey as an acceptable lover for him, but would she accept her as his wife?  And his grandfather…his grandfather still ruled the family.  He would make Carey's life an unbelievable hell.  "So what do we do now?" he whispered.

      "We do the only thing we can…we go on," Carey said.  "What we had was something wonderful and truly special, and I'll never forget it.  But maybe it was too special to last."  A single tear rolled down her cheek.  "Kiss me goodbye and wish me luck, and go on with your life."

      Pain lanced across Sage's heart again.  "I can't see you off tomorrow.  It's hard enough saying goodbye to you once…I couldn't stand to do it twice," he said very softly.

      "I understand," Carey replied gently.  "I guess this will have to be our goodbye, then."  She walked over to where he sat and tenderly caressed his cheek, then leaned forward and kissed him softly on the mouth.  Sage looked up at her with drowning eyes for a heartbeat, then pulled her into his lap and kissed her fiercely.  They clung to each other with the desperation of lost souls, and Sage could taste the saltiness of tears on his lips.  He wasn't sure if they were hers or his own.

      Finally Carey ended the kiss.  She extricated herself reluctantly from Sage's arms and stood, gazing at him for a moment as if she were trying to memorize him.  "I love you," she whispered.  "I always will."

      "I love you, too," Sage whispered in return.  Carey turned to go, but as she placed her hand on the doorknob, Sage called out, "Carey."

      Carey turned to look back at him, her eyes large with barely restrained tears.  "Promise me something," Sage went on.  "Whatever roles you wind up dancing in Seattle --- Giselle, the Swan Queen, Sleeping Beauty, whatever --- promise me that you'll be the best one there ever was."  Because it's the only way I can ever let you go.  "Will you do that for me?"

      Carey bit her lip and managed a tiny, brave smile.  "Yes," she replied softly.  "I promise I will…for you."  Then she was gone, and the door closed behind her with a quiet click.

      Sage just sat at the table for some time longer, feeling that if he moved he'd shatter into a million pieces.  The diamond ring sparkled mockingly at him, and he finally found the strength to reach over and close the box as carefully as if it would explode.  He got up and walked carefully into the living room, where he stood at the window and stared unseeingly out at the night.

      I will get through this.  Somehow, I will.

~~~~

      The next morning, Sage was walking to work when he heard the sound of an airplane overhead.  He stopped in the middle of the street, ignoring the annoyed looks of passersby, and watched the huge plane as it glided across the sky, leaving a thin white contrail in its wake.  He gazed after it until he couldn't see it anymore.

      Goodbye, my love.  Goodbye.

                ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Terminology

All the following terms are Japanese in origin.

Shinai: A bamboo sword used in kendo.

Men: A protective head covering and grill-like mask.

Koibito: "sweetheart".

Hajime: "ready".  Used to indicate the beginning of a kendo match.

Onēsan: "older sister".

Otōto: "little brother".

Nihonjin: Japanese (person).

Ni-chan: informal, "brother".

Ojii-sama: grandfather.

Okaasan: mother.

Otousan: father.

Author's Note:  Poor Sage! :-c  Well, I did warn you that it wouldn't be easy.  I know this chapter was rather long --- I had to cram all that angst in there somewhere.  So what happens next?  Well, you'll just have to read the next chapter to find out, won't you?