Friday, 7 October 20XX, Evening
Yongen-Jaya Dance Studio
The past few nights had been emotional for Futaba, Ann, and Atsuko alike, but as they returned to their dance classes, enough time had passed that they were once again in good spirits. They all channeled this resolve into their performance, starting with the stretches. It felt like they were able to push themselves further than ever before. Ann and Honoka were able to reach their chests to the floor in a straddle stretch, albeit with significantly more rounded backs and narrower leg openings than the paragon Atsuko demonstrated. Futaba even managed to touch her toes and hold herself there for a good few seconds, a personal best.
Over the past few lessons, Maiko introduced some new moves for the beginner-level girls to practice. One was a pair of hip-drops done in sequence, the momentum of the second lifting the opposite leg up and allowing for a step or turn. She called this move a "baladi kick", a name which drew no small amount of glee from Futaba. To her, it sounded like the name of an attack someone would shout out in some anime or tokusatsu show, or even a command for one of her friends' Personas. Upon trying it out for herself, she couldn't help herself from calling out "Baladi Kick!" herself, eliciting a few amused snickers from everyone else in the class.
Maiko also introduced the class to various arm positions and movements they could incorporate into their other steps, including the classic "snake arms". Consisting of lifting and lowering the shoulders, elbows, and wrists in a certain pattern, the motion made her whole arms appear weightless. Due to the coordination required to pull off proper snake arms, she had them work on the motions with one arm at a time. Futaba's analytical mind helped her internalise the sequence of actions needed to pull off proper snake arms, and while physically performing it was another challenge, her on-the-spot knowledge gave her a leg up over the rest of the class, and she even gave Ann a bit of help in achieving them herself.
Not everything in the lesson went smoothly, however. For example, Ayame's body got discoordinated and locked up whenever she tried to do open a sequence with a hip drop. She had only been able to do hip drops right after a lift, in a sort of up-down-up motion, but starting with a drop was still an alien concept. Even Futaba had trouble combining her previously-mastered moves with steps, considering that she had limited space to move around in her cramped little bedroom. When it came time to practise "camels", or chest undulations done while stepping forward, her normally-capable brain seized up, and the motions she wound up making came out utterly awkward. Maiko advised her to start practising in areas with more floor space, and taught to all of the class, "That brings up a good point. They say 'Practise makes perfect', but I would also add to that, 'Practise makes permanent'. If you keep doing something the same way over and over again, that just makes it harder to learn new things. The next time you find yourself stuck on something, think about how you've been practising it before, and start doing things differently. Then you should be able to overcome your stumbling block naturally!"
When the class finished for the night, the five students who planned to take part in the recital stayed to pick up some more guidance from Maiko, while Atsuko excused herself. Ann had been eager to share the video she had found with her teacher, and develop it into a routine she could work with, but her curiosity about Atsuko's situation got the better of her. "Oh hey," she called out, but immediately thought better of asking her directly. "You were really good today. Do you think we could meet sometime to help coach me?" This wasn't exactly a lie, either. Ann thought she could actually use some hands-on advice from one of her friends, and whilst Futaba was more easily available, Atsuko did honestly come across as a better dancer, having more experience than anyone else besides Maiko herself.
Atsuko pondered this request before finally answering, "Sure, I think I could make some time, Ann-chan. You're still in school, right?" Ann nodded in confirmation. "Yeah… I can't do evenings, but is Sunday good for you? Early afternoon?"
"That'll work!" Of course, this was dependant on whether or not the Phantom Thieves had other engagements that day, but she would just play that by ear. "Can I have your number?" Atsuko agreed to swap phone numbers and SNS IDs with her new friend, which they both did next. "Thanks, Atsuko-chan! I'll call you later for the deets, okay?"
"That's good. Can't wait to see you again, Ann!" Atsuko bowed in gratitude, and then turned to leave..
"Where are you going, Atsuko-chan?"
All Atsuko responded with was, "Sorry, Takamaki-san, but I'd rather not talk about it," before heading out the door.
Ann suspected something was amiss. She stood by the door and, taking occasional glances out its small window, waited for Atsuko to leave the locker room. When she did step out, now dressed in a short skirt and track jacket, Ann snuck out to follow her, ignoring her current state of half-dress. Attempting to stay undetected, she ran down the stairs after spotting Atsuko take the elevator down. At the ground floor, she saw her get into a black luxury sedan that had been waiting for her. The fear for her new friend growing, she broke cover and ran outside, calling out, "Atsuko-chan!", but it was no use. Atsuko did not so much acknowledge Ann as she sat down in the car and closed its passenger door.
Before its tinted windows sealed her from Ann's vision, she managed to catch sight of two other people in the car, a man in each of the front seats. And yet, the car did not drive off straight away. Ann just stood in place, waiting for something to happen, when a few red flags popped up in her mind. The expensive-looking car, the opaque windows shielding its occupants from view, the fancy suits the driver and other man were wearing, and Atsuko's refusal to so much as react to her name being called… Ann suspected there was trouble going on in her friend's life, but in her current state, she felt exposed. She turned around and dashed back into the building, thankful that the other party had apparently just driven off instead of following her.
When Ann snuck back into the studio, she was further relieved to find Maiko not paying her any mind, instead working with Honoka on a part of her own routine for the recital. She recognised it as an idol dance routine from one of Rise Kujikawa's music videos, to which they were brainstorming other, more traditional baladi moves for her to incorporate. Watching their work, Ann sidled alongside Futaba, and whispered to her what she had just witnessed.
"I'm with you, Ann," Futaba quietly responded. "Those are the ingredients of something very suspicious. But how do we get her to talk about it?"
"Well, I said I wanted to practice with her on Sunday. Maybe I could ask her about it then?"
"You could," agreed Futaba. "But something tells me she's not very open to discussion."
Ann pondered this possibility. "You're right… Oh! Maybe if we went together, she might feel more at ease? You know, let her know that we're both on her side?"
"That could work… Wait a minute. Are you saying I could use her help for dance practise, too?"
"Well, nobody's perfect, but-" Ann cut herself off when she saw Maiko wrap up with Honoka. "Hold that thought, Futaba." With that, she stepped up to go over the video she found. They agreed that particular routine was too advanced as-is, but Maiko picked out a two-minute segment that would be easier for Ann to emulate, and gave her some drills to help her practice its lower-body and upper-body components separately. Whilst waiting for Futaba to share her own routine's progress with the teacher, Ann gave one of those drills a try and, after only a couple of mistakes, soon got the hang of it. If only for a moment, her concerns about Atsuko melted away and left behind a boost of confidence.
Meanwhile, in the car that had just picked up Atsuko, its driver was chatting with his other male passenger. "You seen that girl who followed Atsu-Atsu? I don't like the way she looked at us…"
"Yeah," the passenger agreed, "but I think I recognise her from somewhere…" After racking his brains for a moment, he came up with nothing. "Hey Atsu, you know that chick? The one with the blonde pigtails?"
"Her name is Ann Takamaki," she obediently answered. "She said she used to be a model, or something."
"Hey, now that you mention it, she was in a couple of mags not too long ago! Killer body for someone her age. Ya think the boss could use someone like her on stage?"
"Only one way to find out," said the driver. "Atsu, you think you could give a message to that Ann chick for us?"
As much as Atsuko wanted to cover for her friend, she feared the repercussions that might ensue if she held out from giving them any information about Ann. "Actually," she said, "we just exchanged contact information. She said she wanted to train with me sometime."
"Whatever," the passenger cut in, "that's even better. Here, gimme your phone for a bit." Atsuko handed over her smartphone and waited as the man re-typed Ann's details into his own phone's contacts. When he was finished, he gave it back and added, "Good job, Atsu-Atsu. I'll tell the boss to make it worth your while."
Atsuko squirmed in her seat as she wondered what reward they might have in store for her. Would they hold off on putting me in pasties for a while?, she asked herself. ...No, that's just wishful thinking. Maybe they'll just pay me a little extra. I guess that's nice… More than likely, they'll just say they won't punish me somehow and call that a "reward". Oh, why did I let myself get into this...
Wednesday, 12 October 20XX, Morning
Sakura household, Yongen-Jaya
A lot had happened to the Phantom Thieves since Ann and Futaba's latest dance lesson, and none of it was good. The Change of Heart they were anticipating suddenly ended in unforeseen disaster, and public opinion had already started to turn against the Thieves' favour. Futaba discovered this for herself the following morning, as she scoured the Internet to confirm her fears. But that wasn't the only problem on her plate. As she checked her e-mail inbox, she noticed an unread message, sent the day before by Ann. It was something she had received and forwarded to Futaba, with a message added along with it:
Futaba-chan, I just got this last night. It's some sort of job offer as a dancer, but it looks kinda sketchy. Maybe it's from those guys I saw with Atsuko. I was wondering if you could look into this and tell me who sent it. Love, Ann
After reading this, Futaba scrolled down to reveal the rest of the message. It did indeed seem to offer a gig as a belly dancer, promising a hefty signing-on bonus. There were no further details listed as to who sent it or where she should apply to, only a line asking her to reply to the e-mail if interested. Ann was right on the money sending this to me, she thought. Just like I always say: if it sounds too good to be true, it always is.
Futaba ran a few web-crawler searches on keywords taken from the original e-mail, then stood up, turned to face the mirror, and practised a few shimmies while waiting for results. Not much I can do here, she thought. Maiko-sensei was right. Sooner or later, I'm gonna need more space to practise. Maybe Sojiro will let me borrow the loft at Leblanc while Ren's out at school... A few minutes later, listings began to pop up in the form of social media posts written by, or related to, other women who had received similar offers. While none of these messages appeared to come directly from those who had accepted the offers, there were numerous second-hand accounts which corroborated each other, and painted a dark picture indeed.
Whomever was pulling the strings here was luring aspiring belly dance performers with high-paying gigs, only to force them to put on egregiously risque outfits and routines, hold back a sizeable chunk of the money they would have made, and blackmail them against trying to leave their engagement for any other venue, reputable or otherwise. There were even some accounts of these girls being coerced into private trysts with particularly high-paying customers.
Upon reading enough of these stories, Futaba pushed her chair back and buried her head into her bunched-up knees. From all the horrible things that these women had to deal with, she began to understand Atsuko's concerning behaviour, and why she didn't want to talk about it with anyone. Even worse, now Ann was being targeted. If they managed to get their hooks into her, it would be like Kamoshida all over again. Desperation welling in her mind, she typed up a reply to Ann, recounting what she found online along with the following message:
So… yeah. I couldn't get a lock on who exactly this guy is, but he's sketchier than Inari's sketchbook. I know what you went through, and I couldn't bear to imagine you dealing with all that again. You did the right thing, asking me first. Take care, Futaba
After sending her reply, Futaba resigned herself to the fact that there was nothing more she could do for now. And yet, she couldn't stop from thinking about all this, and the implications it brought forth. So many people who patronised this club would be exposed to a cheap, sensationalised form of belly dance which didn't truly represent what the art was all about. Atsuko said she wanted to smash that stereotype of baladi, only to wind up reinforcing it against her wishes.
Just then, an even more frightening thought flashed in her mind. What if her uncle found out? The uncle who had put her in abusive, inhuman conditions until Sojiro was able to wrest legal control of her away from him? Thankfully, he had never made any sexual demands of her before, but if he were to learn of her interest in belly dancing, would he try to change that? What if he was a patron of the club Atsuko and, potentially, Ann were bound into performing at? What if that same fate were to fall upon Futaba herself? Plausible or not, these fears weren't going away, and they were too much for Futaba to bear. Wearily, without even turning her computer off, she rolled into her bed and cried herself into a mid-morning nap.