The Pursuit of Perfection
summary: As an aspiring prima ballerina, Sarada refuses to accept anything less than perfection. But the weight of her mother's legacy and the curious blue gaze of the company's new dancer make that pursuit feel all the more challenging.
BoruSara. Modern, Ballet AU.
tags: modern AU, ballet AU, hurt/comfort, grief, eating disorders, self-worth issues, imposter syndrome, eventual smut, sexual content
A/N: please be sure to read the tags, some may find the content of this fic triggering. I do not claim to be an expert in any of the topics discussed in this story, but I try to approach them gently and realistically.
I have no ballet training so bear with me. I used the term prima ballerina because I like it, it means the same thing as principal dancer, or the highest rank in a ballet company.
Sarada sat at the grand table of her parents' formal dining room, her neutral expression hiding her frustration. She stared down at her plate, pushing around the pasta with her fork and picking out the tomatoes. Why'd her mom have to serve such a carb heavy dinner?
"Sarada, dear?"
Dark eyes flickered up to her mother's smiling face. "I'm sorry, what was that?"
"I was just saying we were thinking about renting a big beach house this summer. You could come visit anytime you want and invite all your friends from the company! How fun would that be?!" she beamed. Jade green eyes sparkling with excitement.
"So fun," Sarada muttered and shoveled a bite of pasta into her mouth. The only trouble was in the near two years she had been dancing at the Konoha Ballet Company she had made no friends.
She took another bite to prevent herself from having to explain that to her mother. She wouldn't understand anyway.
"Or you could bring a boy!" Her mother added with a suggestive wiggle of her eyebrows.
"Mmhmm," Sarada hummed, avoiding eye contact and filling her mouth with another forkful of pasta.
She had less boyfriend prospects than she had friends.
"Sakura, leave her be," her father chimed in with a sidelong glance.
"What?!" Sakura pouted. "Why can't I be excited about our daughter dating someone? You and I were already engaged by the time I was her age!"
Cool.
Another reminder she was far behind her mother in accomplishments both in ballet and in love.
She took another bite, chewing slowly but barely even tasting it anymore. Sarada swallowed the food down with a harsh gulp. "Can we please talk about something else?"
Literally anything else.
"Umm… oh! Did we tell you we had lunch with Naruto last week?"
Sarada felt her grip on her fork tighten. Naruto Uzumaki was the program director at the Konoha Ballet Company. She could think of at least a thousand ways that her parents could embarrass her in front of the man who was not only a role model to her, but also basically her boss.
"Oh?" she squeaked out, hoping they hadn't talked about her and all the ways she needed to improve.
"Yes! He told us our family's donation is going to help complete the renovation of the theatre!" Sakura told her excitedly before reaching over to squeeze her husband's forearm. "If their estimates are correct it should even be done before you have dress rehearsals for the company's summer program!"
Sasuke nodded and offered her a soft smile in return, which was about as much enthusiasm as he was capable of. "He mentioned they may even rename the foyer after us."
"Oh, that's…" Another reason for her to be hated. "That's great."
Sarada sighed and shoved a bite of pasta in her mouth, then another, and another. It's not that she didn't appreciate her family's generous contributions to the company's endowment, but when half the buildings are named Uchiha, the other dancers can't help but assume she's spoiled, stuck up, or worse, that her parents paid for her to be there.
"Oh honey, if I knew you were so hungry I would've made more!" Sakura fussed.
Rather perturbed, Sarada stared down at her empty fork. She cleaned her plate of everything, including the tomatoes. "I'm not hungry. In fact, I'm stuffed. It was delicious. Thank you."
She dropped her fork and pushed her plate away as her stomach churned with shameful disgust.
"Did you save room for dessert? It's your favorite, chocolate silk pie!"
"No, mom. I said I'm stuffed." Sarada didn't mean to sound so curt, but then again, she didn't mean to eat that much either. But the way her mother peppered her with all these questions put her on edge.
"I actually think I'm going to get ready for bed," she declared before excusing herself from the table.
Sarada trudged through the halls of her parents' mansion, somewhat regretting her promise to spend a weekend a month here in exchange for them paying for her uptown condo near the ballet studio. It's not that she didn't love spending time with her parents… It was just that this house seemed to serve as a reminder of all her shortcomings.
Her eyes cast down, watching her slipper-clad feet shuffle over the hardwood floors and avoiding the hallway walls. Hung proudly next to their family photos on this particular stretch of wall were commissioned portraits and framed news clippings of her mother in her prime.
Sakura Haruno had been the picture perfect prima ballerina.
Elegant. Beautiful. Thin.
She definitely didn't eat massive bowls of pasta for dinner. She was perfect, and that's why her father had fallen in love with her.
Sarada knew if she ever was given the chance to be Konoha Ballet's prima ballerina, every magazine that celebrated her accomplishment would say she was following in her mother's footsteps. They would place her photo next to one of her young mother, and she would look like a whale by comparison.
When Sarada entered her childhood bedroom, she closed the door behind her with a tired sigh. Dark eyes dodged every mirror as she pulled off her clothes and kicked them into a pile in the corner. Then she slipped on a pair of pale pink, satin pajamas that hung loosely on her delicate frame.
Even after she moved out, her parents didn't bother to redecorate, so she climbed into her old four-post bed with its dreamy white canopy. Wrapped in her fluffy white comforter, Sarada willed herself to fall asleep, but she just couldn't.
Surrounded by these pastel walls, she felt like an ugly little doll in a perfect dream house.
When she was young and had trouble sleeping, her mother would tuck her in and lay beside her. She remembered fondly the gentle way her mother would run her fingers through her raven hair and tell her sweet bedtime stories.
Sometimes about swan queens, sometimes about sugar plum fairies. But Sarada's most favorite of all had been her parents' love story.
Her mother would describe a dark-haired young gentleman from an affluent family that spent much of their time cultivating his appreciation for the arts. From the symphony to musical theatre to opera, Sasuke enjoyed it all. But it wasn't until he attended that ballet that he truly fell in love.
He was so enchanted by the beauty and grace of the company's prima ballerina, that he found himself buying front row tickets to every subsequent performance and sending gorgeous bouquets of flowers to her dressing room every night in hopes of getting her attention.
"I was very focused on ballet, but your father is a rather persistent man," Sakura would fondly recall with a giggle. When she finally accepted an invitation for a date, the rest was history.
Sarada felt her chest ache as she stared at the ceiling through the sheer white canopy. Moisture prickled at the corner of her eyes. For as long as she could remember, she wished someone would fall in love with the way she danced.
She wished someone would fall in love with her.
Dark eyes flickered to the mirrored wall with its mounted ballet barre situated in the corner of her bedroom. Sarada spent countless hours of her youth rehearsing in her own mini studio, yearning to be good enough for someone to love.
Yearning for her parents to tell her they were proud of her, that she was beautiful and talented and exactly how they wanted her to be.
But that didn't come.
Instead, it always felt like they offered her more resources to get better. Another elite ballet camp. Another private lesson. Another cute new rehearsal outfit.
But every gift felt like a veiled expectation. This is how a ballerina should dress. This is how a ballerina should look.
Poised. Polished. Perfect.
It's not that she wasn't grateful for all the gifts from her parents… It was just that they seemed to serve as a reminder of the high hopes her young self had that she had yet to fulfill.
Quiet tears escaped her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. Sarada still felt so far from her idealized image of a prima ballerina and so helpless to make up the difference.
These feelings had persisted for so long she didn't know if they would ever go away.
But Sarada knew of one way she could have a brief moment of respite from these intrusive thoughts.
She slipped out of her bed and padded silently down the darkened hallway. Paranoia had her glancing over her shoulder as she entered the empty kitchen.
A bright light assaulted her eyes the moment she pulled open the fridge, but Sarada was undeterred, reaching toward the top shelf for the chocolate silk pie.
When the morning light flitted into her bedroom window, Sarada woke, full of regret. She rolled over, shoved her face into her pillow, and let out a muffled scream.
Why? Why?! Why did she do that?!
Angry fists pounded her pillow, guilt and disappointment brewing inside her gut. The whole time she crept down into the kitchen the night before she reassured herself it was just going to be one bite.
One bite and then she would go back to bed.
But one bite was never enough to bury her feelings, so she took another. And another. And another until suddenly she found herself standing at the sink, washing out an empty pie dish as embarrassed tears streamed down her cheeks.
But beyond the ache in her stomach, a new problem arose in her mind. How was she supposed to explain to her mother where the entire chocolate silk pie had gone?! Her fist hit the pillow again with a frustrated huff.
She could practically feel the disapproving stare of her mother as she not-so-subtly warned that if Sarada wanted to be chosen as Konoha Ballet's next prima ballerina she would have to watch her figure.
A fact she was already painfully aware of.
Her head lifted from the pillow, her dark gaze drifting over to the clock on her nightstand. She didn't have time to wallow in bed all morning, she had to get ready for rehearsal.
Begrudgingly Sarada pulled herself out of bed, a frown curving down the corner of her lips. Her steps felt heavy as she padded over to the bathroom to begin her morning routine. After washing her face and brushing her teeth, Sarada shrugged on a sweater approximately two sizes too big. The extra room helping to hide her shame.
She dragged a brush through her long raven tresses, pulling her hair back into a sleek low bun. With a spritz of hairspray, she smoothed the sides ensuring not a single hair was out of place. Sarada reviewed her appearance in the mirror one last time, hoping the puffiness around her eyes from crying last night wouldn't draw any unwanted attention.
Once she was finished getting ready, she packed up her belongings, relieved that her weekend at her parents' house was finally over.
It was early enough that it was possible her parents weren't awake yet, so Sarada slung her duffle over her shoulder and quietly tiptoed down the hall, hoping to slip out the front door unnoticed.
But of course, she was never that lucky.
"Were you not going to say goodbye?" her father's deep voice hummed from inside his study that flanked the grand foyer. She glanced over her shoulder and offered him a sheepish smile.
"I'm sorry, Papa, that wasn't my intent. I woke up later than I planned and I need to hurry to rehearsal," Sarada fibbed, before dropping her bag by the door and scurrying over to give Sasuke a quick hug.
"Oh good morning, sweetheart," Sakura sang as she sauntered into the study and placed a steaming mug of coffee on Sasuke's desk. "Did you want me to make you some coffee?"
"I'm okay, I'm in a hurry this morning."
"I could put it in a to-go cup?" her mother insisted.
Sarada glanced down at her phone. She actually had plenty of time before rehearsal, she was just eager to get out of the house.
"Okay, fine," she relented, knowing how persistent her mother could be.
Sarada trailed behind Sakura as they made their way through the house. The rich smell of fresh ground coffee beans soon invaded her senses, a welcome distraction from her transgression the night before that happened in that very kitchen. Maybe it wasn't such a bad idea to accept her mother's offer of coffee.
"Cream or sugar?" Sakura asked as she poured the hot brew from her French press into a cute glass tumbler.
"No thank you," she replied with a shake of her head. She really couldn't afford the extra calories. Dark eyes glanced over to the fridge and then back as Sarada wondered if her mother noticed the missing pie yet.
Should she say something first? Or play dumb and pretend she didn't know what happened? She should have just refused the coffee and saved herself from the decision.
Sakura put a pink lid on the coffee and slid it over the counter to Sarada. "Thanks," she mumbled. Her hands were shaking as she wrapped her fingers around the warm glass. "Umm, Mama…"
"Yes?"
"I… I decided to have a little sliver of pie last night," she hesitantly began. "But then… I accidentally dropped the whole thing on the floor. I'm so sorry. I did my best to clean it up."
Green eyes flickered down to the floor as if to check for any remnants of the mess. "Oh honey, that's okay. It was just an accident."
Sarada fought back the sudden tears that threatened her eyes as she nodded. What happened to the pie last night was definitely an accident.
Sakura turned back toward the cabinets, pulling a mug out for herself. "But you have to be careful indulging in too many midnight snacks, or the next thing you know your leotard will start feeling too tight," her mother advised with a light-hearted chuckle.
Her jaw clenched at the warning. She knew her mother meant well, but whether she was speaking from personal experience or actual concern for her weight, Sarada would never know.
"I should be going now."
"Oh, of course!" Sakura set her mug down on the counter to give her daughter a quick hug. "Have a good rehearsal!"