'All Glory, All Honor'
His arms shook, the muscles spasming as he held his pose. His shoulders protested at the awkward angle, his joints locking as his hips and shoulders fell further into an almost-arc. Almost, but not quite. The boy breathed evenly, even in his awkward position, a habit of long practices and frequent exercise.
He held that almost-but-not-quite-an-arc pose for a few ten seconds, maybe more, before working his weakly protesting biceps once again to bring himself back into a completely up right handstand. He breathed a light sigh of exertion, stopping the shaking in his muscles, lest the coach see and demand extra training.
The young gymnast smiled starkly at the dark wood beneath him, sweat dripping from his flushed skin onto the horse beneath him. He bent his body, slowly and surely, at the waist, almost in half. Thighs to chest. He pressed the balls of his feet to the surface of the cold pommel horse, making sure they were firmly placed before snapping his body upright. He swayed for a minute, slightly dizzy but used to the feeling. Enough so at least to keep his balance.
Dark wisps of ebony escaped the restraint of his hair tie, falling to rest on his forehead. He paid them no mind, not bothering to even attempting to brush them away. Not because they didn't bother him mind you, they certainly did, the tickling they always caused a nuisance of the worst kind, but because it was a useless endeavor. He could brush them away but they would fall simply back into against his sweat drenched forehead.
As soon as the swaying stopped, he bent his knees slightly, bunching the muscles in thighs in preparation for the dismount he needed to practice. He let the muscles snap, propelling him backwards, off the horse, the world flipping head over heels rapidly before his eyes, which he dared not close. His feet hit the dull, blue matt with a thud, and he threw his hands up, striking his customary pose. Showing off for the imaginary audience.
"Decent, Yao. Could be better, but decent. Now, go take a shower and then straight to bed. Early practice tomorrow." The balding man shouted from across the room, where he was pouring over papers, barely sparing the twelve-year-old a glance. Yao smiled to himself, enjoying the rare compliment, no matter how small. He wiped at his brow with the back of his hand, heading back to the room he shared with his fellow gymnasts, exhausted but pleased at his wonderful dismount. Even if was justa back flip.
He pushed through the door to the dorms where the students stayed, or tried to. He was baffled when the door resisted, stuck in place. A few moments of struggling and he finally pushed his way through the mess, kicking aside the offending cloth and cotton that had barred his entrance into the room. Why were there pillows and linens in front of the damned door? He looked expectantly around the dark room, looking for the perpetrators of the current mess. All the bunks were full, the students all sleeping peacefully. All but-
"Haha, I shall claim your breasts as my own, Yao!" The dark haired boy screamed, too loudly for a darkened room full of sleeping youths, who grumbled and rolled over in their bunks, ignoring the pair.
"Yong Soo!" Yao whispered back, voice menacing. "What do you think you're doing?"
"Playing. What are you doing?" The nine-year-old asked the older Asian, putting on his best innocent expression. It didn't faze the Yao, as the other knew it wouldn't.
"Clean this up and then go to bed!" Yao snapped, picking his way across the littered floor, careful not to catch his foot and fall. It would him no good to be injured and out of practices for any amount of time, no matter how brief. He stepped and sprung across the floor, putting his acrobatics to good use. He made it to the small bathroom that was shared by himself and his four roommates. He shut the door behind him, clicking the small, silver lock into place.
The young Chinese boy hummed a small tune to himself as he prepared his shower, letting the water run and heat up. A soft lullaby his mother had whispered to him as she'd rock him, slowly and gently. The old wooden rocking chair creaking with movements, well worn from use. For a moment, he was back at home, in his mother's arms, happy and comfortable.
Someone knocked on the bathroom door, interrupting his waking dream, drawing him back to the present. He let the real world wash back over him, sighing exhaustedly. He picked his way over to the door, clicking the lock and swinging it open, revealing a young Japanese man in the door way.
"Kiku?" Yao asked, raising a brow at the usually quiet student. Kiku smiled at him, the action tainted with just the barest hint of amusement and handed him a towel. Yao blushed, taking the cloth from his roommate. How had he forgotten to grab towel?