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"Dance isn't something that can be explained in words; it has to be danced."
--Paige Arden
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She glared dangerously at him, her hackles rising as his grin grew wider. Of all the guys she HAD to bump into, it had to be him...
Mitsui Hisashi.
The boy she absolutely hated since kindergarten.
"Hello, Makiko-chan," Mitsui drawled, his grin bordering on teasing as he regarded her beneath thick lashes that didn't belong on a guy.
She pushed past him quickly, slinging her bag over her shoulder. "Beat it, doofus."
She thought she had gotten away from him but he quickly caught up, falling in step with her. Makiko groaned inwardly. She had forgotten that since he was more than a head taller than she was, his legs were a lot longer and he could walk pretty fast when he wanted to.
"Now, now Makiko-chan...I help you and 'no thanks' is all the thanks I get?" Mitsui teased, smirking down at her.
She flushed angrily and quickened her pace. Only a few more blocks and she'd be in the studio. "I don't need to thank a chauvinistic neanderthal such as yourself," she icily bit out, keeping her eyes straight ahead.
"C'mon, Makiko," Mitsui prodded, reaching out to pinch her cheek, only to have his hand swatted away. "No need to act like a frigid bitch. I'm trying to be friends, here."
Here, her blood boiled in her veins at the insult and she practically screamed at him, unmindful of the people around them. "I WOULD RATHER KISS A BABOON, YOU MISOGYNIST CRETIN! BACK OFF!"
Mitsui held up his hands in ceasefire, obviously taken aback at her sudden outburst. 'Then again, she's always been quick-tempered, ever since we were kids,' he mused, watching as she ran inside a tall building with a sign that read "CHARLOTTE CARDIN DANCE STUDIO" outside.
"So this is where she hangs out on Saturdays," he mumbled, re-reading the sign. "She should hang out at an Anger Management Clinic. It might help lower her blood pressure and improve her personality."
~*~*~
Just as they were about to cross the curb, Sumire Hanagata and her boyfriend, Fujima Kenji, heard an angry yell that made both of them jump. And judging from the words peppering that shout, it sounded like a not-too-happy girl was being bullied by a pesky guy.
But imagine to their surprise when they saw that the guy was actually Mitsui Hisashi, the shooting guard of Shohoku High and former junior high MVP. A black and pink blur moved past him, pushing into the doors of the tall building. Sumire looked at Kenji and raised her eyebrows in question, the motion receiving a shrug of the shoulders from Kenji and an equally confused look.
"Wanna go over to him and talk, Mire-chan?" Kenji asked his girlfriend, knowing of her rather painful and traumatic history with the guy.
Sumire smirked. "My curiousity's getting the better of me. And don't worry, Kenji-kun. I'm forgiving him gradually everyday."
The couple crossed over to where Mitsui was standing, stifling their chuckles at the evident scowl on his face. When he turned around to see them, the scowl melted away and he gave them an uneasy smile, still a bit uncomfortable around Sumire after what he did to her.
Sumire smiled back, reassuringly. "It's okay, Mitsui-san. We were just wondering what happened."
"Eh?" Mitsui drew back, confused.
"We heard some girl shout," Kenji explained. Mitsui's scowl immediately returned.
"Oh, her?" His voice was laced with biting sarcasm. "That was Tsukiyama Makiko, the Frigid Bitch of Kanagawa."
Sumire hid a smile behind her hand. "Oh come on."
The ex-gangster nodded his head vigorously. "I'm serious. She can freeze an entire country solid with one glare and she loves to insult you with words too big for the average human being."
Both Kenji and Sumire had to laugh at that. "She can't be THAT bad," Kenji remarked, chuckling.
"Bah! I've known her since kindergarten. She's always been a bitch," Mitsui snorted, readjusting the strap of his gym bag. Sumire shook her head.
"Are you sure she's like that?" She wanted to know, curious why this Makiko person practically made Mitsui see red.
Mitsui shrugged his broad shoulders. "Beats the hell out of me. As far as I can remember, I had a fight with her just once and ever since then, she's been on my case," he replied. "Come to think about it, SHE started the fight!" He added, frowning again.
"Well, good luck with her," Kenji said, patting Mitsui on the back. "I sure hope you guys don't rip each other's throats out."
The couple walked away arm in arm when Sumire suddenly stopped and turned back to Mitsui. "Mitsui-san, wanna crash the mall with us?" She asked. Kenji looked at him, waiting for his answer.
Mitsui politely declined. "No thanks. 'Three's a crowd,' remember?" At their questioning looks, he waved them off. "I got some practice to do, anyways."
So saying, he waved goodbye and headed in the opposite direction, whistling Hanamichi's 'Ore wa Tensai' song before he realized what he was doing and righted himself. As he walked away, Sumire turned her eyes in the direction of the studio.
"I wonder who she is," she said aloud, frowning slightly. Kenji grinned.
"I have a feeling they'll be together soon," he remarked, putting an arm around Sumire's shoulders.
"What makes you say that?"
"There's that saying that goes, 'The more you hate, the more you love,' and I'm pretty sure those two fit the bill. Kinda like 'Moonlighting' when you think about it," Kenji laughed, pretending to wince in pain when Sumire whacked him lightly on the arm.
~*~*~
Makiko entered the studio, still muttering a litany of curses that could have shamed just about any drunken man. She plopped her bag down on the wooden floor, kicking her tennis shoes off and unzipping her jeans to reveal pink tights that ended just above her ankles. She already had her black leotard on as a sort of blouse, so all she needed was to lace on her shoes and she'd be ready to dance.
'Not just yet,' she told herself, sitting down to examine her left foot where an ugly scar ran from just below her middle toe to where her leg connected to her foot.
Wincing a little at the sight of it, Makiko drew out what looked like a long strip of rubber from her duffel bag and tied it around the arch of her foot, pulling on the ends hard with her hands as she first pointed her toes and then flexed her foot, feeling the arch contract and relax with each repetition.
This was the therapy she had to undergo and she had to do it all the time if she wanted to continue dancing, as what the doctors had said.
One year had passed since the accident had happened and she had thought that her whole world would come to an end because of it. But she refused to be told and she defied the doctors' orders, continuing to dance as soon as she was well enough.
Thankfully, she had not lost her touch and she determinedly pressed on.
This was what she wanted most, to become a professional dancer at all costs. She had made dancing her life, ever since her parents took her to her first ballet at age four. The world of dancing fascinated her, and her loving parents immediately put her under the tutelage of the best ballet choreographers and instructors they could find.
Makiko's parents were thankful that everything had paid off. Each instructor sang Makiko's praises, saying that she had great potential as a dancer and she would surely make it to one a famous ballet company in no time. And Makiko believed it. Every fiber in her body believed it.
"I'll keep dancing," she said aloud with resolve to the empty studio. "No matter what."
No matter what...
****************************
To be continued...
****************************
"Dance isn't something that can be explained in words; it has to be danced."
--Paige Arden
=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=
She glared dangerously at him, her hackles rising as his grin grew wider. Of all the guys she HAD to bump into, it had to be him...
Mitsui Hisashi.
The boy she absolutely hated since kindergarten.
"Hello, Makiko-chan," Mitsui drawled, his grin bordering on teasing as he regarded her beneath thick lashes that didn't belong on a guy.
She pushed past him quickly, slinging her bag over her shoulder. "Beat it, doofus."
She thought she had gotten away from him but he quickly caught up, falling in step with her. Makiko groaned inwardly. She had forgotten that since he was more than a head taller than she was, his legs were a lot longer and he could walk pretty fast when he wanted to.
"Now, now Makiko-chan...I help you and 'no thanks' is all the thanks I get?" Mitsui teased, smirking down at her.
She flushed angrily and quickened her pace. Only a few more blocks and she'd be in the studio. "I don't need to thank a chauvinistic neanderthal such as yourself," she icily bit out, keeping her eyes straight ahead.
"C'mon, Makiko," Mitsui prodded, reaching out to pinch her cheek, only to have his hand swatted away. "No need to act like a frigid bitch. I'm trying to be friends, here."
Here, her blood boiled in her veins at the insult and she practically screamed at him, unmindful of the people around them. "I WOULD RATHER KISS A BABOON, YOU MISOGYNIST CRETIN! BACK OFF!"
Mitsui held up his hands in ceasefire, obviously taken aback at her sudden outburst. 'Then again, she's always been quick-tempered, ever since we were kids,' he mused, watching as she ran inside a tall building with a sign that read "CHARLOTTE CARDIN DANCE STUDIO" outside.
"So this is where she hangs out on Saturdays," he mumbled, re-reading the sign. "She should hang out at an Anger Management Clinic. It might help lower her blood pressure and improve her personality."
~*~*~
Just as they were about to cross the curb, Sumire Hanagata and her boyfriend, Fujima Kenji, heard an angry yell that made both of them jump. And judging from the words peppering that shout, it sounded like a not-too-happy girl was being bullied by a pesky guy.
But imagine to their surprise when they saw that the guy was actually Mitsui Hisashi, the shooting guard of Shohoku High and former junior high MVP. A black and pink blur moved past him, pushing into the doors of the tall building. Sumire looked at Kenji and raised her eyebrows in question, the motion receiving a shrug of the shoulders from Kenji and an equally confused look.
"Wanna go over to him and talk, Mire-chan?" Kenji asked his girlfriend, knowing of her rather painful and traumatic history with the guy.
Sumire smirked. "My curiousity's getting the better of me. And don't worry, Kenji-kun. I'm forgiving him gradually everyday."
The couple crossed over to where Mitsui was standing, stifling their chuckles at the evident scowl on his face. When he turned around to see them, the scowl melted away and he gave them an uneasy smile, still a bit uncomfortable around Sumire after what he did to her.
Sumire smiled back, reassuringly. "It's okay, Mitsui-san. We were just wondering what happened."
"Eh?" Mitsui drew back, confused.
"We heard some girl shout," Kenji explained. Mitsui's scowl immediately returned.
"Oh, her?" His voice was laced with biting sarcasm. "That was Tsukiyama Makiko, the Frigid Bitch of Kanagawa."
Sumire hid a smile behind her hand. "Oh come on."
The ex-gangster nodded his head vigorously. "I'm serious. She can freeze an entire country solid with one glare and she loves to insult you with words too big for the average human being."
Both Kenji and Sumire had to laugh at that. "She can't be THAT bad," Kenji remarked, chuckling.
"Bah! I've known her since kindergarten. She's always been a bitch," Mitsui snorted, readjusting the strap of his gym bag. Sumire shook her head.
"Are you sure she's like that?" She wanted to know, curious why this Makiko person practically made Mitsui see red.
Mitsui shrugged his broad shoulders. "Beats the hell out of me. As far as I can remember, I had a fight with her just once and ever since then, she's been on my case," he replied. "Come to think about it, SHE started the fight!" He added, frowning again.
"Well, good luck with her," Kenji said, patting Mitsui on the back. "I sure hope you guys don't rip each other's throats out."
The couple walked away arm in arm when Sumire suddenly stopped and turned back to Mitsui. "Mitsui-san, wanna crash the mall with us?" She asked. Kenji looked at him, waiting for his answer.
Mitsui politely declined. "No thanks. 'Three's a crowd,' remember?" At their questioning looks, he waved them off. "I got some practice to do, anyways."
So saying, he waved goodbye and headed in the opposite direction, whistling Hanamichi's 'Ore wa Tensai' song before he realized what he was doing and righted himself. As he walked away, Sumire turned her eyes in the direction of the studio.
"I wonder who she is," she said aloud, frowning slightly. Kenji grinned.
"I have a feeling they'll be together soon," he remarked, putting an arm around Sumire's shoulders.
"What makes you say that?"
"There's that saying that goes, 'The more you hate, the more you love,' and I'm pretty sure those two fit the bill. Kinda like 'Moonlighting' when you think about it," Kenji laughed, pretending to wince in pain when Sumire whacked him lightly on the arm.
~*~*~
Makiko entered the studio, still muttering a litany of curses that could have shamed just about any drunken man. She plopped her bag down on the wooden floor, kicking her tennis shoes off and unzipping her jeans to reveal pink tights that ended just above her ankles. She already had her black leotard on as a sort of blouse, so all she needed was to lace on her shoes and she'd be ready to dance.
'Not just yet,' she told herself, sitting down to examine her left foot where an ugly scar ran from just below her middle toe to where her leg connected to her foot.
Wincing a little at the sight of it, Makiko drew out what looked like a long strip of rubber from her duffel bag and tied it around the arch of her foot, pulling on the ends hard with her hands as she first pointed her toes and then flexed her foot, feeling the arch contract and relax with each repetition.
This was the therapy she had to undergo and she had to do it all the time if she wanted to continue dancing, as what the doctors had said.
One year had passed since the accident had happened and she had thought that her whole world would come to an end because of it. But she refused to be told and she defied the doctors' orders, continuing to dance as soon as she was well enough.
Thankfully, she had not lost her touch and she determinedly pressed on.
This was what she wanted most, to become a professional dancer at all costs. She had made dancing her life, ever since her parents took her to her first ballet at age four. The world of dancing fascinated her, and her loving parents immediately put her under the tutelage of the best ballet choreographers and instructors they could find.
Makiko's parents were thankful that everything had paid off. Each instructor sang Makiko's praises, saying that she had great potential as a dancer and she would surely make it to one a famous ballet company in no time. And Makiko believed it. Every fiber in her body believed it.
"I'll keep dancing," she said aloud with resolve to the empty studio. "No matter what."
No matter what...
****************************
To be continued...
****************************