Her Territory, the Dance Floor
None of the dance club members could hold back a gasp of astonishment as they gawked at the infamous prefect leaning nonchalantly by the gym's entrance. GO WITH HIM, NEWLY ELECTED CAPTAIN! They shouted using telepathy. Doesn't she know who Hibari is? If she's a transfer student, maybe she doesn't know? Whispers bounced throughout the crowd.
"You made a mistake. I'm not going to let you off," Hibari threatened coolly. "Don't think you'll skip detention again."
"Tsk. I have more important things to do than waste my time in detention." Yuka's eye's blazed and her stand-offish tone could freeze water. She quickly eyed the other girls, now threatening them to continue practicing. Hibari had no authority over her club's activities.
As long as my team is here, I can't back down. They need to practice.
The prefect was unmoved by her audacity. His mouth was turned down in a disapproving frown and his cold eyes never left the newly-elected dance club captain. In his pocket was a photocopy of the Dance Club's updated roster. Only one name, circled in red pen, interested him. He scanned the gymnasium and the nervous dance team. They were all girls. "Are you herbivores crowding?" he growled.
Immediately, the Dance Club girls flooded out of the gym.
FUCK. How can they just abandon me so easily?
Yuka strutted into the gym, hoping the dance club would accept her as a new member. Excitement bubbled in her blood.
"You've taken dance lessons? Of course you can join!" an older girl exclaimed.
"Our senior captain broke her ankle at a dance rehearsal two weeks ago, and hasn't been able to come to practice," a timid first year explained. "She says she won't be able to dance until the end of the school year! We're not the team we used to be," she explained, motioning towards two girls waltzing awkwardly, stepping on each other's feet. "We've been practicing, but since she left us, we haven't learned anything new."
Yuka had thrived off of her dance classes in Midori. She knew Viennese Waltz and ballet, however her addiction lied with the Latin American Salsa and Tango. But I don't know enough to teach...
However, the girls wouldn't wipe off their puppy-dog eyes since she told them she's danced for 3 years.
"Take the deal. You can be our captain and everything," a girl with short black hair ordered. She had a very mature aura, and wore her uniform like an elite businesswoman wore a pant-suit. Yuka liked her immediately. Her name was Hana Kurokawa.
Maybe it will be fun. I hope I'm good at it. "Ok. I'll lead. I'll teach." She pulled a girls shoulder's back, showing her how to dance with a straight posture.
"But I can't stay long today." Yuka kept in mind Lal's Midnight Punishment Training. I need to nap soon or else I'll feel worse than boiled dog poo tomorrow.
"Why are you playing the music so quietly? It's no fun like that!" Yuka laughed, turning up the stereo system. "Hmm. Sounds like a Foxtrot."
The girls knew pieces of Foxtrot, but seemed to have lost their poise over the past two weeks.
Dancing is not going to be the same without some real boys in the group. This school is different. Maybe the boys here are more... polite. Yuka cringed remembering her first time dancing with a boy.
After an hour, she said farewell, but the gymnasium was still a party. The Foxtrot music blasted, easily heard from the street, while some girls kept dancing after she left. Yuka's lesson had shed light on the mystery behind the Foxtrot.
For Midnight Punishment Training, Lal Mirch made Yuka scale a mountain in stilettos. Her Aunt didn't want her to look too beat up. She couldn't stand out in school. What would the children say if a 'bookworm' came to school with scratches and bruises? So her plan was to concentrate all the damage in Yuka's feet.
"If you can deal with this pain, then you can deal with any pain," Lal explained. "You must learn how to bear pain and suffering stoically."
The climb was torture. She used meditation techniques to help her ignore the pain as she trekked through rivers and scaled steep rocky slopes. She pretended her ankles were made of wood, and where the straps bit into her skin, she pretended her feet weren't hers. They were someone else's.
However, nothing could withdraw her from the dull throb. Nothing could shake of the agony entirely.
The next day, Tuesday, Yuka's feet were raw and blistered. Have you ever had raw and blistered feet from a nasty pair of shoes? Or when the back of your ballet flats digs into the back of your ankle, and with every step you take, the skin is more and more irritated. Nothing hurts more.
It took her a really long time to reach Namimori. Yuka could barely walk in her camel beige loafers. He knee-high socks bulged around her bandaged feet. When she got home, she had changed into her uniform and filled her socks with ointment. Still, with each step she took, she felt like she was going to collapse. Being on her feet hurt like hell. And Lal Mirch said I wasn't going to stand out! She was lucky she could stand at all.
Today's not going to be a good day.
No teachers stood outside Namimori gate to pick on late students. The school was already an hour and a half into the day, and she had a note of excuse from her Aunt. She checked in at the main office, and then went up to the roof to meditate. It was the only way she could ward off the pain from the blisters.
I'll have to keep off my feet at Dance Club later, too. I'll have to teach from the benches…
The silent, empty gym was unbearable. Hibari had chased out her club as if they were a flock of skittery sheep. He still leaned by the doorway, challenging her to submit to his detention. Yuka stood in the center of the hard-wood dance floor, arms crossed. She viciously chewed her classic bubble-gum flavored gumdrop. A piano and string waltz played on the stereo near the bleachers, the volume recently turned down upon the prefect's entrance.
"I have a note from my Aunt that excuses me from after school activities—"
"—except here you are at Dance Club. You look fine to me." The prefect's cool gaze looked her up and down. Does he not see I can barely stand? Her face flushed from his stare.
Tsk. He's looking at me like I'm a piece of meat. When guys stared at her like that, it freaked her out.
"If you're well enough to dance, then you're well enough to serve detention. We can do it in here."
WHAT? NO! No. No. No. This is my place!
"And if you don't serve the detention today, I'll disband the Dance Club. Heh," Hibari smirked, "I didn't know you were the captain. It figures." He crumpled up the new roster and tossed it into a nearby trashcan. "I had the disbandment paperwork drawn up yesterday because your noise was disturbing the peace." His metallic eyes narrowed at Yuka's simmering complexion. The poor girl was beet red with frustration.
"You wouldn't dare!"
"Are you questioning my authority?" Hibari raised an eyebrow.
God damnit. How can I get out of this? He did have the authority. He could take away her club. He had already chased them out of the gym with absolutely no resistance. And he still has Mom's ring for ransom. Everyone's gone. There are no witnesses to report to Squalo that I'm hiding at Namimori, but there's no way I can fight him with so much pain in my feet. Yuka had used self-hypnosis, combined with meditation, desperate to reduce the pain. God help her if she lost this state-of-mind.
"…I'll do the detention," Yuka reluctantly muttered. Immediately, she felt she had lost a part of herself she would never ever get back. She had never willingly submitted to detention in her life. Her pride drifted away as her eyes slightly clouded.
"Smart choice."
Hibari straightened and walked over to the stereo on the lowest bleacher. Yuka thought he was going to turn it off, but instead, he turned the volume knob up. Yuka caught her breath. The waltz's violins floated dreamily through the room, reaching for their crescendo. The mesmerizing music pushed the pain of her feet further out of her mind. The prefect turned around to face her, and held out his hand. His stare dared her to take it.
"You want me to dance?" Mrs. Rushito never did this. She'd make me run laps or clean hallways, not something I liked….
Not something I actually liked.
"I enjoy the music." His glare grew more poisonous as she stalled.
Maybe I can dance for a little bit. The pain isn't too bad anymore. His scent enveloped her as she approached him, and oddly made her feel calmer. Why does he smell like... like pine needles and wet dirt? Maybe I misjudged him… In a defining moment, she placed her hand in his.
The prefect pulled her towards him, smoothly placing his other hand on her back. Surprised that he knew how to dance, she gripped his jacket sleeved just below his red and yellow armband. He took the lead and she followed. It had been a while since she had last danced the waltz. The pain was not as bad as she had expected. It's the dancing. I always feel better when I'm dancing, even when it's supposed to hurt.
But I feel rusty. He must notice. He's way better than me... Yuka was too focused on keeping up with the dance footwork to notice Hibari's careful eye on her. Finally, he leaned down, breaking her concentration, and asked, "So, are you all bark and no bite?"
"What? What's that supposed to mean?"
"I thought you would impress me. Like yesterday."
"uh. Well, I uh…" I like this detention. I like dancing with him. "I don't know what you're talking about. I just don't want any trouble," she ended softly. Weakly.
"Heh, good." He smirked down at her. "Then don't get too cozy with your little club. I hate crowds."
Yuka's face reignited. Is he threatening me again? He said he wouldn't take the Club away!
"Hold on!"
She wanted to stop dancing and yell at him, but his lead was too strong. She tried dragging her feet, but he always managed to spin her to make her keep moving. Have I lost control of my body? I can't stop the dance! His strong lead was making her feel sick. She could almost picture him smirking over her shoulder. He had her cornered with his grip around her waist. The bastard must be enjoying this. She felt she was in the same situation as yesterday. She might as well be pinned her against school lockers. Yuka kept trying to drag her feet. Her rage grew every time he managed to break her back into step. Into following his lead.
No pain was worth this humiliation.
"STOP! You can't disband us! I'm doing your stupid det—$&*&%%!%$$!"
He had stepped on her foot. Hard.
The pain was agonizing. It shot up Yuka's leg and made her entire body quiver and tense. Unconsciously, she squeezed her Hibari's hand and his prefect jacket sleeve, squishing he face into his shoulder and her body against his chest. Tears watered in her eyes, as she tried to remove her mind from the pain.
Just like that, the dance—the second dance she had ever had with a boy—was over.
"Get off," Hibari spoke softly into her ear.
She was almost there, the pain was almost gone. But it still hurt so much. Her body was frozen in agony. How could he do that? How could he not notice I could barely walk? He freakin' danced with me! How can he not notice it in my step!
"You…" Yuka quivered, "YOU motherfucken BASTARD!" Yuka screamed into his shoulder. She could feel her sock moisten. One of the blisters had popped and the fluid puffing it up was leaking out.
Hibari wrenched his hand from her tight squeeze, grabbed the front of her uniform collar, and ripped her off him. Clutching the fabric of her shirt, he practically lifted her off the ground to force her to look into his irritated granite eyes. His cheeks were touched with the faintest bit of red from the insult. Or was it something else?
"What did you just call me?"
Looking him in the face turned Yuka's pain into white hot rage. Tears rain hot down her cheeks.
How dare he!
*RRRIIIIIIPPPPPPPPPPPP* With the hand that once gripped Hibari's sleeve, Yuka dangled the torn red and yellow prefect armband between both their noses. Then, testily, she spit her gum in it, crumpled it up and threw in over her shoulder.
"Yuh get the message?" Her face betrayed all her absolute disgust with him, her cheeks still wet. Her hand wrapped around his fist, trying pry her shirt loose.
"You're pathetic. I barely touched you."
"Let me go." Right on cue, a drop of blood dripped from her shoe to the floor. Yuka didn't notice, caught up in her fury, but Hibari did.
A little surprised, he let go of her shirt collar. The pain on her feet from being dropped caused Yuka to collapse. She winced as she hit the floor. Immediately, she wrestled her shoes and socks off to reveal wads of bandages. Blood soaked through the one he had stepped on.
Just looking at her damaged foot made her want to break out into tears again. No one has ever gotten away with treating me like this…. But no matter how much she wanted to glare poison at the prefect towering above her, she had to fix her blister. No scar from this day would ever taint her body.
Hibari quietly studied her injury from his height. He'd never seen such tortured feet. His jaw clenched and his hands squeezed into fists, but Yuka was too focused on her wounds to notice. Then, he ripped his gaze off Yuka to rest on the boom box, still playing its hypnotizing waltz.
She was finally distracted from her poor foot when Hibari smashed the stereo system with his metal Tonfa.
"What the hell! Why'd you do that?" She gawked at the broken boom box. The plastic shell was cracked and the tape's film lay around it in a tangled mess.
"You have two more detentions. If you forget them again, I'll disband your Club." He shot Yuka one last steely look-over, and left her debating if it would be worth the pain to shove her foot up his ass.
Outside, he met with Kusakabe, his Assistant Head Prefect.
"I have the paper work for disbanding the Dance Club ready, Kyoya-san. All that's needed is your signature."
Of course, Kusakabe had watched Yuka's detention. He had seen Hibari dance, but refused to ask, no matter how much his curiosity begged him. In fact, he hadn't even known Hibari could dance.
And why was Hibari so involved with this new transfer student? Had he missed something?
"Sir, why don't you let a teacher handle Yuka-chan's detentions?"
Hibari looked irked by his subordinate's question, but answered nonetheless.
"She's interesting. I want to see her again." Kusakabe's worry increased ten-fold. Hibari had never been interested in anything but his enemies and preserving the discipline of Namimori Middle School. How could a girl interest him?
Does this mean Yuka-chan is an enemy? Kusakabe cringed at the idea, but as he thought over the scene in the gym, he remembered that Yuka's injury had caught him completely by surprise. He thought she danced very well, like someone who ought to be on television.
She hadn't betrayed a hint of pain before Hibari stepped on her foot. And only his boss had that much self-control. If she's anything like Hibari, then she's a real threat.
"How did you read her foot was hurt?" Kusakabe was very familiar with his boss's ability to spot the weakness in the opponent. Hibari must have noticed her injury and used it against her.
"I never detected her injury." His boss looked to be in deep thought as he departed. Hibari took of his coat and slung it over his shoulder, his white dress-shirt flapping in the late afternoon breeze. He seemed to be in a bad mood, his tone of voice sharper, bossier. "Leave the paperwork on my desk," he ordered over his shoulder as he began his meditative afternoon rounds to guard his beloved school.