Terpsichore, the muse of dance and song

Inspiration: Watching Diversity on BGT.

Seigaku: Eiji. Completely, no contest. Active, exuberant and vigorous.

(This one warrants a little disclaimer at the top. I did ballroom when I was little however my knowledge of specific moves and names of moves is limited. I have done a little research and tried to describe as best as I could, but there is no substitute for knowing it intimately. So forgive any minor errors in this chapter and any help would be welcome.)

Kikumaru Eiji walked into the dance studio with a slight trepidation. He didn't want to be here and it showed in the sheer reluctance he was lifting his feet with. His mother had signed him up for dance classes, thinking that he was too energetic and needed help managing his energy. Well, it was either dance classes or gymnastics and ever since that incident with the ribbon and Gakuto three years ago, Eiji had been avoiding even the thought of gymnastics.

Eiji was not in the best of moods right now. He didn't understand why his mother was so fixated on his energy levels. Sure, he was slightly more excitable than other people and he didn't like to sit still, but Eiji thought that was what the tablets he was taking were for. They were supposed to make his ADHD better.

So why did he have to come here?

It wasn't that Eiji was nervous, or that he didn't like meeting new people, but dance? It was girly and a waste of time. It wasn't like a sport or something, where he could play. Dancing involved precise movements and partners, both of which Eiji disliked. Ever since Gakuto…

Eiji sighed heavily. He might as well go inside and get it over with. Maybe, if he went for a few weeks and still didn't like it, his mother would let up and let him not go, like with the tennis lessons.

He pushed open the clear, glass doors and walked inside. It wasn't what he was expecting, but then, he wasn't sure what to expect. It looked like the reception area of his doctor's office; long couches, potted plants and a stern faced receptionist with fierce looking glasses and an even fiercer expression.

"Can I help you?" she asked, her eyebrows rose as she looked him up and down. Eiji felt a bristle of indignation but ruthlessly squashed it and smiled vapidly.

"I'd like to sign up for lessons please," he said, in his politest voice. His "my mother is watching and that's the only reason why I haven't run out on you yet" voice.

"Really now?" she asked, her severe ponytail making her look even sterner than she already did. "Style?"

"Huh?" Eiji uttered, sounding completely vacant. The receptionist gave him an exasperated look.

"Do you really want to be here?" she said, not mincing her words whatsoever. Eiji looked surprised and she gave him a knowing look.

"Why don't you sit in on a couple of classes before deciding? I'll even give you a trial period. No fees until you can come back to me and say you really want to be here," her face softened as she said this, a look of understanding flashing over her features. In her pink tracksuit, she almost looked grandmotherly with that expression. Eiji just nodded dumbfounded, wondering how a receptionist could make promises like that without consulting the owner first, but didn't question it. It would be her head on the block after all.

She stood from behind the desk and leant over it. "Ok, going round the place. First door on the left, ballroom. Second, ballet. Third, tap. Fourth, modern. Fifth, jazz. Sixth, street. Pick which one you want to try and take it from there. Come back to me when you've made your decision."

Over the next few weeks, Eiji went to the dance studio, each time trying a different style. He hadn't found any appealing so far. Ballroom was too structured and ballet too precise. Tap, whilst being fun, the clicking hurt his ears and did nothing for his concentration problems. Modern was exciting, but the instructor reminded him of a pompous peacock, so he left that class. Jazz involved him moving his body into shapes it didn't like, and two words: jazz hands. Great to look at but evil to do.

Everything was the same. He went to one lesson and he knew that it would be the same next week. And the week after. If there was one thing worse than precision for Eiji, it was repetition.

He'd successfully crossed of five of the six classes offered. He just had to come up with a valid reason to dislike street dancing and he could leave this whole ordeal behind him.

He walked back through the doors, giving a cocky wave to the receptionist, who was reading a tennis magazine, and slouched towards the last door. He stared for a moment, taking in the paper tacked on the door below the class' name and then walked through it.

It was time to face the final boss.

The beat of the music was pulsing in a pleasingly consistent manner when he stepped into the room. Like all the other rooms he'd visited during the month, one of the walls was completely mirrored and the floor was a highly polished wood.

In the centre of the room, there was a loose circle of seven people, crowding around another, who was dancing. The dancer was performing and Eiji approached the circle, entranced. It wasn't the strict, precise movements of ballroom or ballet, nor was it the restrained movements of modern. This was wild and uncontrolled. It was free.

The people stood in the circle were clapping and swaying to the beat as the teen in the centre spun on his side, faster and faster, increasing with each revolution. No sooner had his momentum started to slow, he stood and began to move his body at angles Eiji couldn't hope to achieve. Every motion was matched precisely to the beat of the music; hands, shoulders and even his head were in perfect co-ordination, jerking from side to side in perfect synchronicity.

Suddenly, the beat of the music changed from something found in night clubs to something found in his grandmother's vinyl collection. The sound of trumpets and guitars blasted through the speakers and the dancer in the middle of the circle bounced out of it, immediately switching with another person. The tall brunet who replaced the raven haired bandanna wearing one spun around the circle once or twice, only to pluck the short brunet out of it to join him. Once in the centre, they both twisted for a few moments, until they fell into a Charleston dance; all lindy-pop arms and fake running on the spot. Except it was different to what he knew as a Charleston. There was an undercurrent of modern, slight idiosyncrasies to the music in the electric keyboard and heavy drums. There were differences in the movements as well. Instead of the flowing actions of the 1920s, theirs were more defined and fierce.

For the first time since being told he had to do dance, he was excited.

It was after the two brunets had finished dancing that his presence was noticed. The tall raven haired teen with the heavy glasses looked directly at him and went to dim the music. Eiji was then the centre of attention and he was pinned under the gazes of eight strangers.

"Er, hi?" he waved uncertainly.

The street dance class gelled with him really quickly. After being introduced to everyone, he was given the chance to get stuck in and Eiji couldn't wait. He was a little reticent though as he didn't know any moves for street dancing. He'd voiced this aloud when the others had resumed dancing.

"You don't need to," the small brunet –Fuji- said. "Street dance is all about how you feel and expressing it to a beat. It's about letting go and being yourself."

There was a heavy hip-hop beat pulsing through the room at that point and Fuji directed his attention to the circle, where the shortest member –Echizen- was dancing.

"Echizen has trouble expressing himself. He is really bad at talking to people," Fuji said. "But, he can say everything when he dances. What's he saying Eiji?"

Eiji stared at Echizen, who was moving like a wild animal, flailing his arms with little finesse. He looked happy, his eyes closed and a small smirk on his lips. His face was covered in a light sheen of perspiration, but he looked content. Underneath, he could see more. Frustration was in his heavier than needed footwork, anger was in his sharp punctuations, and sadness was in his finger positions.

Eiji was amazed. He never knew so much could be conveyed through dance alone. Just movements and a beat. It was so simple, yet Eiji felt like he had been searching for this simplicity his whole life.

He had felt, his entire life, that he was moving at a higher speed than the rest of the world. He was moving at eight beats in a four beat world and here, for the first time, he could move at the speed he had always felt.

Eiji's mother loved him, that much was obvious. But sometimes, around the dinner table when Eiji had created yet another family ruckus, he could see the look in her eyes. The one that was silently wishing he would be more like his siblings.

He had been surrounded his whole life by people telling him to sit down, shut up and behave, so to suddenly be around people who said nothing when he was loud and smiled when he expressed himself was a novelty and Eiji was not about to let it go.

"Back again are we?" the stout pink haired receptionist said, flicking through this month's copy of Pro Tennis. She looked up, he brown eyes stern but sparkling with mischief. She gave him that all knowing look many parents learnt at an early stage; the one that said "I knew this would happen". Eiji timidly approached the desk, mindful of his earlier cocky attitude towards her.

"I'd like to sign up for the street class please," he said, thrusting forwards his finally completed application form and start up money. His mother had gladly given him the beginning fees, pleased by the eager look on his face.

The receptionist took the form and the envelope, sliding both of them into a drawer. "Finally found one you liked then?" she questioned and Eiji flushed with excitement, nodding.

"Good. You know where the class is." As Eiji turned to walk back to the classroom, he heard her call out behind him.

"Everyone else in that class signed up the same way you did."

He entered, much less nervous than the previous times he'd passed the door and it's stickered notice and was met with grins and waves from many of the group members. Immediately smiling upon seeing them, his new friends, he bounced over to where they had gathered. Momo, a tall black haired boy, was helping Echizen stretch and Kaidoh, the boy with the bandanna, was discussing something with Inui, the heavily bespectacled boy. Fuji was off to one side, lightly chatting to Kawamura, the tall brunet, and Tezuka, the bespectacled brunet, was discussing something with Oishi, the black haired boy with an unusual hairstyle. Eiji made his way over to Fuji and Kawamura and joined their conversation. After about ten minutes of inactivity, he wondered why no-one was practicing.

"We're waiting for the instructor," Kawamura said kindly. "It's one of the nights she teaches, whereas other nights are for spontaneous practice, as she calls it."

This was something Eiji had not expected. He did not know that this class had a teacher in it. It suddenly seemed a lot less free than before. No sooner had his hopes begun to sink like a heavily laden balloon than the door opened and the instructor walked in. His eyes widened as he took in the frumpy pink tracksuit and the severe ponytail.

The receptionist was not a receptionist. She was an instructor.

He glanced across to Fuji who was nodding and he leant over to whisper in Eiji's ear. "That's Ryuuzaki-sensei. She's the instructor."

Ryuuzaki as in Ryuuzaki's dance studio? Even worse, Eiji thought. She wasn't a receptionist, but an instructor and owner of the studio. It was at that moment that Eiji realised how a fish must feel, for he was sure he was doing a very good impression of one.

"Well class. As you can see, we have a new member today. This is Eiji, he signed up formally a few moments ago," she said, smirking in his direction as she gave him an unnecessary sweep of her hand. "Today we'll be working on anger."

At these words, the members of the class gathered in a loose circle around her and she turned on the sound system. Instantly the room was filled with the angry tinkling of piano keys and the members began to move in time. Eiji moved in time with the rest, entirely unsure of what he should be doing.

"So," Ryuuzaki-sensei began, "who has felt angry?" There was a pause when everyone in the room raised their hands, Eiji included. "And what did you do? There are many ways to express your anger. You can shout, scream, bend with it, hold on to it or let it go. But that's not what this is about."

"Think about when you were angry. Feel it once again," she began circling the swaying group, her revolutions getting faster and faster with the beat. She watched them and when they were ready –"now express it." And she pushed Tezuka into the middle of the circle.

Eiji kept moving with the beat and watched, enthralled as Tezuka danced. Eiji went to the same school as Tezuka and he was known as a brick wall because of his lack of emotions. Here he was displaying so much anger it was unbelievable. Eiji could see it; he could see the frustrations, the hurtful words and actions, the ire Tezuka felt towards the world. It was right there for everyone to see.

And then, amidst the clashing keys and haggard breaths, Eiji learned something. He learned that dance was one of the most revealing things someone could do. Here was his classmate's soul, laid bare for all to see and judge; stripped naked by his movements. And he was one of those chosen to witness this phenomenon.

He was so stricken by his revelation that he was mildly unprepared for the beat to change. Gone were the crashing keys and in their place was a heavy drum beat, matching Eiji's heartbeat with an uncanny ability. He could hear the music but more so, he could feel it. It reverberated through every bone in his body, even his teeth, until he was nothing more than the beat.

It was unexpected, the gentle push on his back, but not unwanted. He moved with the push into the circle and began to move with the beat, his beat. He stomped his feet with anger at Gakuto, he jerked from side to side as he imagined his family pulling him. He bowed his head in shame even though he unrepentantly lashed out with his hands. His arms became whipcords that flung his hands like weapons; his legs became the only thing keeping him grounded. And when all was said and done, when the deafening beat had quietened, Eiji stood there, amid a circle of peers, naked for them to see and judge.

He had never felt so vulnerable.

He had never felt so scared.

He had never felt so alive.

He soon found that not only Tezuka went to his school, but all the others did as well. They were people he had never spoken to before but he had seen something deep inside them; a secret place shared by ten people. He began to speak to them as school, sharing particularly strong friendships with Oishi and Fuji. His mother was delighted, given that he was calmer at home, doing better with his studies and he had friends now.

He himself was happier than ever before. He could go somewhere for three nights a week and be himself. Not the person his parents wanted, not the person society wanted but himself. Nothing more, nothing less. The other four nights, he mostly spent with the people who had seen and accepted him. They never asked him to quieten down in the restaurants, they never told him to behave in the park. He was happy and content.

Until one day.

The entire group had gotten together in the park and they were simply sat, filling their time with doing nothing. Eiji and Fuji had managed to drag Echizen onto the swing set, where he was being pushed by Momo, a disgruntled look on his face. Fuji and Eiji entertained themselves on the monkey bars whilst the others laid on the grassy floor, simply enjoying the silence.

Mid way through their idyllic afternoon, Eiji's personal demon came walking past their group. Gakuto hadn't changed much over the years, he had gotten taller but still kept his hair in the same bob like before. He was walking with someone else, a blue haired boy with glasses, and they seemed to almost miss them completely until Gakuto caught sight of Eiji's distinct hair colour.

Eiji saw as he smiled evilly and began to make his way over to the playground. Eiji looked panicked for a moment, so much so that Fuji turned to where he was looking.

"So," Gakuto said, having reached them. He was standing a foot in front of where Eiji was sat and looking down upon the seated redhead with an unidentifiable look. "How are you?"

"Fine," was Eiji's sullen response. Before he'd even had a chance to include the polite "and you?" Gakuto was off, describing how much more exciting his life was now.

"Oh by the way," he waved a negligent hand behind him to the blue haired boy, "this is Yuushi. He's my new partner." And like that, Eiji had been replaced. No months of searching, no despondency, just "my new partner."

It made Eiji feel that all those months of skinned knees and torn elbows and arguments had been for naught. He looked down at the ground, disproportionately upset by what Gakuto had said. He missed when Gakuto asked who his friends were. But Fuji didn't.

"We're his street dance group," he said, a purely vulpine smile on his face. Gakuto's face fell slightly at the disinterested response from Fuji.

"Oh. I'm Gakuto," he regained a little of his smile, "I'm sure Eiji must have mentioned me."

"Actually, this is the first time I've heard the name," was Fuji's cool, callous response. Eiji and the rest watched from the sidelines, imagining this to be like a conversation between ex and current girlfriends. Any fight that Fuji had deemed worthy of participating in, they were staying well away from.

After ten minutes of verbal tennis, Gakuto left, his tail between his legs, Yuushi following behind like a puppy. Fuji turned to Eiji, who flinched slightly at the intense look in his electric blue eyes.

"You're one of us now Eiji. That's all that matters."

"Evening, Ryuuzaki-sensei," Eiji called as he walked into the studio. He was dressed as usual, in loose trousers and a t-shirt, his sneakers still on. He waved jauntily as he passed, leaving the dance instructor to her magazine. He walked down the corridor, stopping at the final door and pushed it open, smiling like usual at the posted sign. He was loudly greeted by the others as they prepared for another night's freedom, the door swinging shut behind him.

All that was left was a closed wooden door, a throbbing beat and the door's stickered notice

"Dream as though you'll live forever. Live as though you'll die today. And dance like no-one's watching." (1)

(1) This is a combination of two quotes. This first "Dream as though you'll live forever, live as though you'll die today" is by James Dean and the second "Work like you don't need the money, love like you've never been hurt and dance like no-one is watching" is by Satchel Paige

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