After thinking thoroughly, they decided going together to buy furniture wouldn't be the best of ideas, for they could be recognized, which, yet was out of question. So, while he worked in the morning, she went by herself; in the afternoon, he'd go. And they'd figure it out later.

His grandmother had accompanied her towards the stores but had to leave after a couple hours for work. Yet, her insights had been valuable. As she made her way back home, she spotted a familiar little blond kid by the bench in front of Mikhail's ballet school. He seemed to be looking for something, peeking through the windows.

"Hey there. So, you also like ballet, not only circus." He jumped upon realizing her presence. "Would you mind if I join you?" He stared at his feet, shyly shaking his head.

"You put on quite a show yesterday… Do you want to be a circus artist when you grow up?" He nodded, excitedly. She chuckled. "I thought so. How old are you?" He showed the number seven. "Really? And you can do all that? Good for you!" She praised.

As the music began inside, he tried mimicking the dancers. Turns out ballet wasn't his best asset. But he had plenty of time to learn. His sense of music and rhythm was admirable though. As they finished, he sat back again.

"Do you take ballet classes?" He shook his head but moved his hands as if playing an imaginary piano. "Oh, you play then. You know, a bit of ballet may be useful for you, depending on where you want to work. Or… were you looking for someone, earlier before?" For the first time he looked at her with his big violet-blue eyes, face red as a pepper, matching his crimson t-shirt. She giggled. He then hid himself behind the bench. "Hey, no need for that!"

"Having fun?" She lifted her head to meet her brother-in-law's Celadon eyes. "You've been coming around quite often… Does he know?"

"I might have mentioned seeing you dance… Also… It's not like he has to know everywhere I go." The teenager scoffed, running a hand over his face.

"Right. Well, then, this bench can't possibly be comfortable for watching and, besides, it's pretty hot outside… Would you like to come in? That is… If you want to." He blushed a little, which was honestly sort of funny, considering his initial grumpy demeanour.

"That would be nice… Misha. Can I call you that?" He rolled eyes and nodded, extending an arm to support her as she rose from the wooden bench. The little boy was nowhere to be seen. "By the way…Why wouldn't he want me here? Any old rival or anything of that sort? An ex-girlfriend, maybe?"

"Girlfriends? Pffft… Brother never had time for that." They entered the building, and he greeted some people. They finally went into where his partner and their male teacher awaited.

"Oh, so you made a friend. Impressive." His teacher mocked. "I was wondering who would finally invite you in, yet I never guessed it would be the 'ice prince'." The teenager rolled his eyes, while he stretched on the barre. "Who is, as often, LATE. When will you learn?"

"Someday, maybe." Mikhail stated, nonchalantly, for his teacher's dismay. "Shall we?" He said, positioning himself beside the female lead.

"Fool! What do you mean you lost him? How hard can it be to watch over a kid?" Sora scolded the Spirit of the stage. "You better find him!"

They were going to have a special rehearsal with Alain Reuben, which, initially was regarded as a bad idea, considering Leon's presence, but, apparently, it turned out they had been in better terms for a while, especially after he'd watched their rendition of the Angel Manoeuvre.

During time out, Rosetta hinted that he might have known Aaron, as he was a trapeze artist trainer.

"Aaron Brass, you say? Unfortunately, I don't know much… Only what I have heard from his previous trainer, and from someone else, who might make Leon bittersweet." The old artist grunted. "It's said he was deemed as a genius from a young age and loved challenges. His death was a surprise and caused quite a commotion at the time. Everyone seemed depressed… Except for that old man. I had never seen him as happy as when he found out he'd died. You might remember him, right, Leon? Ilya Kiryanov." For the first time, they saw the silver haired performer shiver. "The man which caused you and Sophie to leave me for good."

"I seem to have heard that name somewhere…" May wondered. "Wait… The Kiryanov from the impossible Kiryanov Swan Lake variations? That Kiryanov?"

"If you are talking about the Russian Demon… You guessed right." Leon stated bluntly.

"Russian… Demon?" Sora stared, dumbfounded.

He had indeed improved from the first time she'd seen him: everything seemed less technical and had more emotion. But while they developed expression, still lacked synchrony between themselves and the music.

"Now, that looks better." Close to the piano lady as she was, she never realized the flaxen haired dancer coming in and sitting beside them. Despite the warmness of that day, she still wore the same long-sleeved black leotard Layla had seen her with weeks ago, contrasting with her snow-white skin. It was as if one of those music-box ballerinas had come to life. "What would you say? You've been watching them. I could see it from the second floor." The ballerina queried, smiling, her emerald eyes gleaming with kindness.

"I would say so. Yet, there is always room for improvement."

"Agreed… But I think that might be enough for us to step out, right, Mathéo?" She gazed at the dancers, longingly, both hands resting onto her lap.

Their male teacher sighed, defeatedly. "As much as I'd love sharing the stage with you again, it can't be helped, can it? Will you still do the Sugar Plum solo, though?"

"Isabelle's Sugar Plum is more than good. Moreover, Anna's foot is healed, so she can be Clara again."

The older danseur noble inhaled once again. "Well, you know what I think about it. Nevertheless, I respect your decision."

"Good. Just don't tell them yet. Thinking they'll be dancing after our Coda can be a stimulus towards a better performance." That said, she left.

"Professor, what did she think?" The girl asked shyly, huffing. Mikhail, gazing at the floor, seemed to want that answer as well.

"You have improved… In other words, she liked it." Both teenagers inhaled deeply, eyes filled with determination. "Go get some water, you two."

"You must be curious, right?" The piano lady inquired the former Kaleido Stage star. "Why would she not want to dance, as good as she is. I know you've seen her perform. And that, my dear, is a rare occurrence nowadays."

She had indeed been questioning herself. The woman was, from that single performance she'd witnessed, the pure epitome of ballet.

Why, then?

"He was known for his… Unorthodox ways of training his dancers. You might have heard that Russian dancers are built differently, due to their harsh training. His methods were deemed inappropriate even for their fashion. So, he was sent away by them, and exiled himself in France. It's said his old students from Russia have panic attacks upon hearing his name. Even after his death, no-one ever detailed what he did." He inhaled. "But… There were rumours… Which were quite unsettling. It's said he was a Demon capable of creating an Angel; he'd done it before, with one of his students… So, I thought Sophie training under him would have been a good idea. The rest of it, only Leon knows."

"He never actually hurt Sophie, I never let him. He believed that only a perfect ballerina could perform as an angel. One that was strong enough to fouetté non-stop, but light as a feather, to be easily risen by its partner. Remember the weights you used on training, Sora? His idea was to make Sophie use double their weight daily, not only for training. She would have to sleep with foot stretchers… nightly. Sometimes, it would be required that she slept on the barre, Arabesque position or while stretching. And, on top of that, her diet would be highly restrictive. She would be consuming herself. It wasn't healthy." The French artist completed.

"That's horrible…" All performers agreed, shocked.

"He had stopped using the whip, then? Rumour said he would hit the performers with a whip whenever they missed their turns or made the smallest mistakes. Depending on his mood, he'd use a lighter or heavier one, with or without additional "assets", as steel pointers and such. His way of teaching was based on fear and hate. When I argued that it was an inhuman training… He only replied that what he wanted to create wasn't supposed to be human. It was a fair price to be paid. If someone deserved the namesake God of Death, was him, not Leon." Alain detailed.

"He died a couple of years ago. But, before, I asked him if he had ever succeeded in his life goal. He laughed on his deathbed, stating he'd created an Angel once, and it was taken from him. So, he had no choice but to create a Demon to avenge that, out of spite. The only ones who could perform his variations. He had no regrets. Unsurprisingly, no -one showed at his funeral. People at the bar said he had a daughter, or, at least, there was a girl who used to drag him home before."

"What are the Kiryanov variations?" Sora asked. She had only focused on circus training, and not much in ballet, over her journey towards stardom. May almost hit her for not being oblivious.

"They are alternate versions of the choreographies of Odette and Rothbart from the swan lake. I researched on his Rothbarth variation when I thought about the Demon Spiral. It's unusual for male dancers to fouetté, but on his variation, Rothbart does, for 72 times straight. On Odette's variation, it happens as well. Or should. I've never seen real footage of them. My teacher used to say they were impossible variations." Mia spoke. "I bet he was lying."

"Oh, but he wasn't. And I thought you from Kaleido Stage would know that." Alain snorted. "But they must have hidden that information. I wouldn't be surprised."

"Which information?"

"That, years ago, on the male auditions, Kiryanov's Rothbart variation was performed flawlessly. A friend of mine was part of the evaluating committee. I wonder if the kid got in. It's said that variation is cursed- only those who have known real hatred can perform it."

"Took you long enough to be back! I was beginning to get worried. So, found anything useful?" Yuri embraced her and kissed her forehead. "Apart from my little brother?" He mocked Mikhail, who had gently offered himself to accompany her. The younger man rolled his eyes.

"Don't be like that, he was kind enough to bring me home. And, he has improved a lot. Regardless of certain people's help." She elbowed him. Mikhail stared surprisedly, his face reddening.

"Not like he needs it. It's better like that. Right?" Yuri's stare was somewhat melancholic.

The teenager snorted tauntingly. "You and she are so alike, you know? You can't get over the past. We all can't, in this shitty family."

"Language, Mikhail." Their grandmother intervened. "What was that for?"

"Never mind. I was leaving. I still have rehearsal today. I only wanted to be sure she made it home safe."

As the performers called it a day at Cirque Noire and were going back to their hotel, Anna spotted the voiceless boy sitting at a bench, staring longingly at one of the many bridges from the city. Seeing him bored didn't fit him at all.

"There you are! Rosetta and Sora told me you had disappeared from their room earlier today. They were quite worried. What's up?"

I can't find my friend. And I am nervous. But I don't know why! It's like sometimes I know things, but a minute later: poof! I don't know anymore! It sucks! He wrote down, clearly frustrated.

"What is your friend like? We could help you finding him, we are done for today." Sora and Rosetta joined them.

She is smart, and the best ballerina. I wanted to find her and make you see her dance. She said her teacher doesn't let her dance outside of the school or the dancing room, because she isn't good. But she is! I don't like him. He seemed angry.

"Okay… how does she look like?"

She has green eyes and hair like mine. And she is smaller than me. And very skinny. I don't think she eats very much. Sometimes I share my lunch with her. She likes to draw and draws very well. I don't draw well. She comes here to draw.

He wrote excitedly. One could easily see his fondness.

"Does your girlfriend have a name?" Anna annoyed him.

She is not my girlfriend! Yes… She does… It's… He stopped writing. Tears filled his eyes. I can't remember. I want to! But I can't. But I know I must take her out of there. Before she gets hurt.

The three stared at him. "Who is going to hurt her?"

Someone named отец. That's all she says.