#yudeki

have this thing i did rly fast bc its been on my mind for days

The first time you meet her, you’re in elementary school, and you don’t think much of her at all. You pause, take in her the colour of her hair – orchids, you think – nod in acknowledgement, and then turn your attention back to your ‘rival’ as Hoshi demands a rematch. She doesn’t seem much interested in playing Smash Brothers, and you have an annoying blonde-haired child to stomp for the ninth time in a row.

You do like Hoshi on some level, but it’s like she has it in for you, specifically. Declaring you her rival was somewhat unexpected, but after a year of constant competition over anything and everything, you don’t quitea want to admit to yourself that you’ve started to enjoy it.

“Guh,” Hoshi mumbles into the carpet as she dramatically falls forwards in the face of yet another curbstomping. “Meta Knight is such a dumb character. He’s basically impossible to beat.”

You smile a little, taking just the tiniest bit of pleasure from seeing your so-called rival wallowing in her defeat.

“I could beat you even if you were the one playing him,” you say, and surprise yourself a little at the words emerging from your mouth. You’ve never been quite so bold before, but you feel the thrill in your chest when Hoshi bounces back to life, raring to go.

“You’re gonna regret that, Hidecchi,” Hoshi says, picking up the controller again. You almost don’t see a blur the colour of orchids as it leaves the room with a quiet giggle. You pick up your controller too, narrowing your eyes. Now, the best one to defeat Meta Knight would be…?

You don’t think much about her again until your first sports festival in middle school. Hoshi and you are toe-to-toe in every event – for the footraces, quite literally. Hoshi beat you by barely half a second in the hundred meter sprints, and you don’t think you’ll ever hear the end of her bragging.

“I just can’t help the fact you’re so slow, Hidecchi,” she says, elbowing you with a smirk on her face. You just sigh and roll your eyes, because you don’t see much point in letting her get to you. Not that you can really help it, because by the time the two hundred meter sprints roll around and you clear it a full second ahead of her, you suppose you might have been driven just a little by the thought of beating her.

Hoshi goes quiet until she beats you in the bread race, but then you demolish her in the long jump – it’s always back-and-forth between you two, and neither of you can manage to keep a lead on the other. The two of you become so engrossed in your rivalry that you almost forget your parents are watching. Hoshi’s little sister – the girl with the orchid-coloured hair, Yuki, was it? – is there, too, cheering on her big sister with huge eyes. Your eyes stay trained on her as you take your place for the last vent of the day – the relay. You and Hoshi are last for your respective classes, of course. It didn’t take long for either of your classes to come to understand the competition between you two. At first, it had been like an unspoken, sacred ritual, but by now it was simply accepted. You weren’t quite sure how to feel about that.

The gun fires, and you hear the pounding of feet as your teammates rush forwards, sprinting with all their might. The tag you wear is blue, and Hoshi’s is red – somehow, the colours felt fitting. It’s close, you think, but then you see blue surging ahead, and you think that this might be not be much of a competition at all. After all, if you get the baton before Hoshi, it’s your guaranteed win.

You’re not sure whether you’re happy or sad when the girl right behind you loses out the gap all your other teammates had worked so hard to earn. She was never all that fast to begin with, you think, and wasn’t she sick today? You feel a little bad for her. Still, something clicks – you and Hoshi locks eyes as the batons reach your hands at the same time, and the two of you burst forwards, feet pounding the ground as you fight to go faster, move faster, push yourselves harder. Your fatigue vanishes in the adrenaline of the moment, and all you can see in front of you is the finish line ahead. You think you might be winning, because you can hear your team cheering and screaming just a little louder than Hoshi’s, and that only drives you to surge forward ever harder.

“Come on, Onee-chan, you can beat her!” says a high-pitched voice. Against your better judgement, you turn your head, and lock eyes with icy blue. There’s determination on her face as she cheers for Hoshi and you blink in recognition – Yuki. She smiles at you.

You stumble as you turn your eyes back to the track, and that’s all Hoshi needs to dart past you and win. You see a flash of blonde break the tape, and suddenly, your heart is filled with regret. The crowd surges and cheers at the unexpected victory, and Hoshi revels in the attention, striking poses and bowing to the crowd. That was your victory, you think to yourself, but you let it slip away. It’s not so much that you lost – it’s that you let yourself lose. You allowed yourself to get distracted. You feel a little disappointed in yourself, and the feeling only worsens when Hoshi gets on your back about it. Still, though, why…? It’s unlike you. You don’t really get it.

You almost forget about the incident when Hoshi slips in a puddle on the way home that day, covering herself completely in mud. You can’t hold back a chuckle as she whines about how bad she smells and how gross she feels, and you think that maybe the muddy stain on your face is just a little bit deserved.

The first time you actually speak to her is on the first day of your third year of junior high school. You’re about to head home with Hoshi when a mess of orchid-coloured hair latches onto your rival’s arm.

“Onee-chan, can I walk home with you?” she says, and there’s something sugary to her voice that makes it pleasant to listen to. You’ve never been particularly fond of sweet things, but the way she sounded was…nice. Hoshi raises an eyebrow and hikes her bag over her shoulder. You think it looks uncomfortable, but don’t say anything. Hoshi’s all about the aesthetic, anyway – or so she tells you.

“What about Miki and Mika?” she says, tilting her head at the smaller girl. “Don’t you wanna walk home with them?”

Yuki shakes her head, flitting from one foot to the other.

“They’ve got something to do today, so please?” she says, and there’s something about the way she moves that reminds you of a small animal. You’re not quite sure which one, though.

“Fine, then. I don’t have a problem with it,” Hoshi says, and nudges you. “Any issues, Hidecchi?”

“N-no, of course not,” you say. You’ve never liked your voice – it’d be better if it were just a little higher, or just a little lower, but it sits at a tone that’s ambiguously annoying. You’re soft-spoken, too, so everything you say sounds like you’ve coated it in feathers. It’s annoying – you really wish your voice was just a little stronger.

“Great!” Hoshi barks, clapping you on the back as she struts off ahead, “Let’s go, then!”

Whilst you’re not exactly enthralled with your own voice, you think you’re grateful you don’t sound like Hoshi.

As the three of you walk, your eyes naturally fall towards the newest member of your Go-Home-Club. It’s only natural to be drawn to something you don’t see every day, you think, and you take the opportunity to look at her, properly, for the first time. Her eyes dart about the place when she looks around, and there’s a stutter to her movements that you find almost – endearing. You think, probably, that if you ever had a younger sister, you might like her to be like Yuki. Maybe.

“So, how was your first day of Junior High?” Hoshi asks, and you’re drawn back to the conversation. The two of them don’t look much alike, you think.

“It was really exciting! It’s a lot different from elementary school,” Yuki says, “I’m kind of lost on what club to join…”

“Well,” Hoshi says, “It’d be embarrassing if you and I were in the same club, so that’s out of the question. Hidecchi does Kendo, so –“

“Oh!” Yuki says, and turns to you, her hands clasped behind her back. “What’s Kendo like, Sonoda-san?”

There’s something incredibly earnest in the way she speaks to you. You think perhaps it might be in her eyes – which just happen to share the same shade of blue as the sky today – but it could also be in her voice, high and sweet.

“Well,” you say, and in your chest you’re brimming with just a little bit of pride, “Kendo is an art. Sure, it might look simple, because there are only four basic techniques, but the complexities in these techniques are unrivalled. Kendo isn’t easy, but it’s rewarding. You must learn control over both body and mind if you wish to succeed, and the road to improving never ends, and – “

You stop, catching yourself before you continue to embarrass yourself further. Hoshi’s smirking at you, because she knows exactly how to bait you into making a fool of yourself, and you fell for it. A pink colour blooms in your cheeks as you realise it, but when you look back to Yuki, she’s gazing at you in admiration.

“That’s amazing!” she says, waving her arms in wonder. “I’ll definitely look at the Kendo Club!”

You think you might be a little weak in the face of someone so unrepentantly honest.

You take a moment to gaze at the two siblings again as you keep walking. They really aren’t alike, you muse, not in looks, not in personality. It’s a wonder they’re related. Hoshi’s all rough edges and challenge, whereas Yuki is fluttery and genuine. You smile. They each have their good points, you think – even Hoshi.

“Do you even have time to join a club?” Hoshi asks, raising an eyebrow as she places her hands behind her head. “You’ve got ballet most days.”

Yuki frowns, and her whole body seems to droop, even if only her head falls. She perks up again in a heartbeat – not that you’re counting yours, necessarily – and is back to those erratic, hyper movements you’ve come to expect from her. A chick, you think, suddenly, as you watch Yuki flit about. That’s what she reminds you of – a chick. Small – she’s kind of short, you think – cute, and fuzzy. Her hair isn’t what you’d call a mess, but you think it’d be soft and fluffy to run your hands through.

Not that you’d ever do that. How improper.

“That’s fine!” she says, pout vanishing from her face. “I’ll talk to Nodoka-sensei and see how she feels about moving some of our lessons around to fit it with whatever club I choose. It’ll be fine!”

The way she floats around Hoshi, almost hovering off the ground is akin to a hummingbird, and the way she tends to flit from place to place rather than walk normally only adds to the likeness. It’s strange, you think – you’re the child of a little bird, but she’s more like one than you’ve ever been.

“Hey, Hidecchi, why so quiet?” Hoshi asks, giving you a sideward glance. You’re not normally particularly loud or talkative – but perhaps she’s right in that you’re a little too quiet.

“Hidecchi, are you okay?” Yuki asks, and even though her voice is sugar and kittens you can’t help but double-take at how she refers to you.

“That name is – “ you start, but you stop yourself as you try and justify to yourself why you could allow Hoshi to call you something so casual, when you’re denying Yuki that same privilege. Hoshi and you were friends, sure – rivals moreso – but it wasn’t like you were really that type of person, was it? You falter as you glance at her face – there’s genuine concern spread across it. You’re not used to that sort of expression from anyone but your parents, and you’re certainly not used to it from someone related to Hoshi.

“You don’t like it? I think it’s cool though…” she says, surprising you.

“Cool…?” you say, considering the concept. You’ve never really thought of yourself in that sort of light before, but if you allow yourself a little bit of breathing room, perhaps you could give off a cool aura? Anyone who knew you would certainly know better than that, but…?

“You’re the cool, collected Hidecchi, who’s super great at sports!! Just like my sister always said,” she says, completely genuine. You blush, unused to such unwarranted praise. You haven’t done anything to deserve this, so why…?

“I never said anything like that!” Hoshi cuts in, folding her arms across her chest and harrumping as she strides forwards. “A volcano in summer is cooler than Hidecchi.”

You’re almost grateful for the insult, because it distracts you long enough to stop a fierce scarlet from spreading across your face.

“If you don’t like it, I can call you something else…” Yuki says, hands behind her back as she kicks at the concrete. She looks almost crestfallen, and –

Aah, you’re so weak.

“It’s fine,” you say, trying to force a little smile. Just one other person couldn’t hurt all that much, you think – it’s just a silly nickname, right?

“Oh, okay! Great!” she beams at you, and it’s hard to look directly at her when she’s shining like the sun.

The conversation moves on without you, and you’re left behind at your turn-off with a cheeky grin and an enthusiastic wave as you head towards your own home. You’re not usually one to hate being alone, but you admit to yourself that walking this part of the way home felt a little more lonely today than usual.

You see her more and more that year, and you slowly become used to her presence. Initially, you’re embarrassed by the way she greets you – “Hidecchi, good morning!” in the hallways, because you’ve always been acutely aware of how others perceive you, and you can’t exactly ignore the strange looks and raised eyebrows that arise from your exchanges, but your cheeks tinge a little less pink each time you hear her voice. You just offer a weak smile – it’s not like you can muster much more – and wish her good morning back.

You don’t see her all the time, though – after that one occasion, its back to you and Hoshi walking home together. She tells you that Yuki’s walking home with the twins, and you can’t fathom why on Earth that disappoints you. For whatever reason, Hoshi’s antics are a little less distracting these days than they used to be.

You see her again at the demonstrative session of the Kendo Club, but she decides not to join, after all.

“Hoshi was right,” she says, an apology written all over her face. You feel guilty for even asking. “I just don’t have the time.”

“It’s fine,” you say, but you frown because that’s such a weak response. It doesn’t mean anything, but you want to reassure her, somehow. You opt for a hand on her shoulder. It’s not too presumptuous of your relationship, you think, so something like that should be fine.

Instead of smiling back at you, however, she freezes. You immediately withdraw your hand – you’re stupid, so stupid, of course that’s over the line. You can’t just touch people however much you wish, how could you be such an idiot? You’ve embarrassed her by overstepping personal boundaries, you think, that’s why her face is red. You wish you could take it back, but you can’t.

“S-sorry, Yuki-san,” you stammer, your own embarrassment blatant in your voice. “I didn’t mean to be so forward…”

“It’s fine! Really!” she squeaks, and there’s something frantic about the way she speaks, “I was just thinking about something else! Uh, it was a delayed reaction! Sorry, Hidecchi!”

She skitters off after bowing to you and apologising again, and you can’t help but notice your face is painted in a hot shade of magenta. You’ve really made a mistake here, you think. She was trying to help you save face by denying she froze.

Her purity astounds you, and you sigh. You’re so, so weak.

Once you graduate from junior high, naturally, you stop seeing her as often. You and Hoshi are in the same class – you’re not sure whether or not to be pleased about that. Things between the two of you don’t really change, even with senpai around to scold the two of you when your rivalry heats up just a little too much.

“You sure ask a lot about Yuki,” Hoshi says to you, one day. There’s something guarded in her voice, and it almost startles you when you notice. Hoshi’s never been one to hide how she feels, so to hear her speak as she does is jarring. “Has she done something to you? I can talk with her if she’s annoying you – “

“That won’t be necessary,” you say, shaking your head. You gaze at Hoshi, but your rival refuses to meet your eyes. You don’t get it. “She’s not bothering me at all. I’m just curious.”

“I see,” Hoshi says, and leaves it at that. The rest of your walk home is silent. It’s not unwelcome, but you wonder why Hoshi suddenly has so little to say.

The next time you see Yuki, you’re at Hoshi’s house again, rather invested in a game of Mario Kart. Instead of running away or avoiding the two of you, as she’s done in the past, however, she stays.

“Can I play?” she asks, and Hoshi just shrugs, handing her the controller. The girl beams as she sits down and selects her driver – Yoshi.

“I love him,” Yuki says, scrolling through the different carts.

“Mm,” you nod along with her. She’s dressed casually, instead of her junior high uniform – a hoodie and a skirt, simple and plain. You think that perhaps a dress and cardigan might suit her better, but who are you to comment on other’s fashion choices? …still, the thought’s there, if she ever decides to ask. She shivers as Eli steps through the front door, letting a frigid winter breeze blow through the living room.

“Cute,” you say, mindlessly.

Hoshi looks offended, and Yuki looks shocked.

“Y-yoshi, I mean,” you cover for yourself inelegantly. Your mother would be disappointed in your lack of decorum, you think and you gesticulate drastically towards the screen. Yuki smiles at you and agrees, but you think you catch a trace of…disappointment? Whatever it is, it’s gone in a millisecond as the game starts. You don’t, however, miss Hoshi glancing at you with a questioning eyebrow just briefly before the flag falls.

As it turns out, Yuki is very, very good at Mario Kart. You and Hoshi are left well in the dust in the Dry Dry Ruins, and the result is much the same in Moonview Highway. However, by Bowser’s Castle, you’re getting the hang of drifting and suddenly you’re neck and neck. The two of you spare a glance at each other as you finally, finally overtake her on the last lap. Then, you hear an awful sound.

A blue shell.

Yuki slows her car, steering away from as the projectile explodes on your kart, sending you spinning into the lava.

“Thanks, Onee-chan!” Yuki grins as she crosses the finish line. Hoshi smirks at you, and you glare back.

However, there’s still one course left to prove yourself. Rainbow Road has always been the Monopoly of videogames for the Toujou-Ayase family, and at some point in your youth, you caught their fever. The mood of the room darkens as all of you grip your controllers tighter. It’s no longer a game. This is war.

You’re starting from fourth place, losing two places to Hoshi and an NPC because of your awfully-timed wipeout. You’re at a disadvantage.

You climb to third place not long after the flag falls, butting the NPC out of the way, and hitting every booster. Hoshi and Yuki are still marginally ahead of you however, and you know you’ve got to change that. The next turn you take scarily close to the edge, but you just barely don’t fall. The gap between Hoshi and your own cart lessens with each turn you take – you’ve always been better than her at drifting, but her skill at avoiding obstacles is second to none. You lose a few second when you swerve wide to avoid a gap in the course, but Hoshi coasts the edge of it without any concerns.

Your luck changes when you receive a red shell from an item box. Hoshi can see your screen, and she pales. However, you think, this isn’t for Hoshi. With the next turn, you’re neck and neck, and by the first turn of your third lap, you’ve overtaken her. You cut her off at the next tight corner, and smirk as her cart topples into deep space. That leaves just Yuki – and her cart is in view. You’ve got to hold it, you think, narrowly dodging another banana. The end of the course isn’t far, but you have to time it just right.

As you take the last turn, you fire the red shell and –

Nothing.

Yuki’s cart slides over the finish line, and she throw her hands in the air, cheering.

“Close, Hidecchi, but I still had a banana left in my inventory,” she says, sticking her tongue out at you. Of course, you think, she blocked it with the banana. You almost feel frustrated with how close you were to winning but – when you see her smile in pride as the victory drive plays, you feel a little better. There’s something about the way she looks when she’s happy that fills your chest up with warmth.

“Well played,” you acknowledge, offering her a soft smile. Hoshi folds her arms and looks away – but she’s always been a sore loser when it comes to videogames, you think. Her logic is that because you don’t have any consoles at home, she should be better than you at all of them. You’ve always held your tongue and refrained from telling her she’s not as good as she thinks she is. You wonder if she realises it now, with her little sister taking her down in her own favourite game.

“Thanks, Hidecchi,” she says, soft, hair bouncing on her shoulders. “It was fun! I should play with you guys more often.”

She does. Yuki isn’t as good at other games as she is at Mario Kart, but she puts more heart into it than you’ve ever seen anyone do. It’s endearing, and you start to look forward to your weekly video game sessions at the Toujou-Ayase house. Not that you didn’t before, but it feels nice to have something you can say you’re genuinely looking forwards to, as opposed to Hoshi’s company. Yuki’s awful at Smash Brothers, but she’s much better than you at Wii Tennis. Hoshi destroys the both of you in Wii Bowling, however.

In your second year of high-school, however, she stops joining you.

“I’ve got a recital at the end of this year,” she says, that same apologetic expression on her face, “so I’m training a lot more often, now.”

There’s nothing to be done about it; she’s a ballet prodigy so naturally she needs to train to hone her skill. You’re doing the same with Kendo, aren’t you? It’s perfectly understandable to strive to be the best in what you’re good at – and you’ve heard ample about her ballet from Hoshi.

“I’m telling you, Hidecchi, she’s amazing,” Hoshi says with a certain level of pride. “Eli-mama says she’s even better than she was at that age.”

You’re used to Hoshi boasting – you’ve never taken much interest in it, but listening to her brag about Yuki is something a little different.

“Oh?” you say. She’s a lot shorter than you – she’s made enough comments in the past detailing her frustration with the fact – so you have to tilt your head downwards to watch her expression. “She’s really that good?”

You’re careful not to sound any more interested than normal – Hoshi would have a field day if she thought you – you –

“She sure is,” Hoshi says, grinning. If she notices the slight change from your normal response, to her credit, she doesn’t say anything. “Better than anyone at her entire school, and probably the prefecture. Maybe even the whole country!”

“You don’t think you’re going a little overboard?” you say, raising an eyebrow. Hoshi shakes her head.

“No way. Yuki is seriously talented. Her last recital sold out.”

You want to see it, you think. You want to see her up on a huge stage, and watch her tell a story as she dances. You’d consider yourself blessed if you could see it, just once. You make a mental note to buy a ticket as soon as they’re available – if they sold out last time, you’ve got to get in fast. Maybe you’ll have to go in disguise, because you certainly don’t want anyone to recognise you – Hoshi, Eli and Nozomi will all undoubtedly be there so you’ve got to ensure you can’t be seen. Your height, you realise, could be an issue. 5 foot 7 isn’t exactly a height with which you can blend in. You sigh; you’ll think of something.

Later that day, you’ve just showered after Kendo, and you’re heading to find Hoshi to walk home with her. It’s a Thursday, so she has volleyball – you wonder why on Earth anyone let her take more than one sport, considering the strain she must put on herself. Then again, you think, maybe it’s the perfect outlet for her energy.

You come round the corner, heading towards the gym, when –

“God, you’re so useless.”

“I can’t believe you messed up that receive.”

Two females voices – a fight? You pause at the corner, unwilling to let yourself be revealed. There was no need to interfere if it were merely post-game banter, but –

“I can’t believe someone like you is our senpai. You’re short, too. What’s the point in playing volleyball?”

Volleyball? It couldn’t be her, you think, but then – you hear a familiar cry of pain as she’s shoved against the wall.

“Hoshi!” you cry out as you round the corner, trying to muster your fiercest expression. Hoshi’s being held up against the brick wall outside the gymnasium by two first-year girls. They’re taller than Hoshi, but for once, you’re glad to be as tall as you are. You storm towards them, furious – nobody is allowed to hurt her, not even you. Nobody.

“What precisely do you think you’re doing?” you say, towering over the first-years. There’s something in your voice that makes even you shiver, and the two of them immediately release Hoshi and run for it. You don’t bother chasing after them; your thoughts are with Hoshi.

“Are you hurt?” you say, offering the girl a hand to stand up with. Hoshi shakes her head, scowling and refusing to meet your eyes. There’s a red mark on her cheek, and you wonder if her nose has always been so off-center.

“I had that under control,” she says, kicking at dust.

“Of course,” you say, but you know neither of you believe it. For the sake of her pride, however, you don’t push it. Instead, you ask, “Who are they? Underclassmen?”

Hoshi nods as the two of you head for the school gates.

“They’re my juniors in the volleyball club. Kiyoko-san, she’s the only one with a problem with me. I messed up a receive and cost us a point in our last match, and she reckons we lost because of me. I tried to her how bad her own are, but you know how people are. They don’t want to think of themselves as bad.”

Hoshi’s looking at her feet as she speaks, and there’s a seriousness to her tone that you don’t normally get to hear. She’s rubbing her cheek, where the mark is, you notice. It probably hurts.

“Our captain usually keeps Kiyoko-san in line, but recently she’s been making more and more trouble. She knows I can beat her up, though, so she’s never tried to fight me like that. When she’s got her little friend, Eriko-san with her, then, well, that’s a different story. I might be able to kick each of their asses individually, but two on one a little much, even for me.”

Hoshi sighs, scowling again.

“I just – I don’t know, I wanted to be a senpai, but I’m just no good at it. I snap at them when they don’t do so great, and my technique isn’t exactly superb, either. I just get by on my reflexes. I’m not cut out for it.”

You tilt your head, and intentionally bump your arm against Hoshi’s shoulder. There’s nothing for you to say here, really. Thankfully, Hoshi understands, and she gives a small laugh before the two of you fade into silence. It’s a comfortable, well-worn silence, though, that the two of you have known together for a very long time.

You opt to walk her to her house – you don’t really want to leave Hoshi on her own after what happened. Sure, the first-years may be gone now, but you know what it feels like to be betrayed by your teammates. It’s not a pleasant feeling.

Before you reach her front door, however, she stops and hugs you from behind, pinning your arms to your sides and pressing her forehead to your spine.

“Thanks for stepping in, Hidecchi,” she says, and it’s the most honest voice you’ve ever heard her speak in. “You really saved my ass out there.”

“Of course,” you say. “We’re rivals. I’m the only one who’s allowed to beat you.”

You hear her laugh, and suddenly the pressure around your middle relents, and Hoshi opens the door.

“You should come in,” she says, “My Moms always love to see you.”

You nod, doing as she says, but no more than five seconds after you shut the door behind you, Nozomi stares at Hoshi as if the girl’s been possessed by the devil, drops the folded washing she’s carrying and rushes to cup Hoshi’s face in her hands.

“Hocchi? What happened to you?” she cries, and her concern touches you as she ushers Hoshi inside, sparing you a brief smile before pushing Hoshi into the bathroom – much to your rival’s protest. It’s a little cute, the way they interact. She’s always been that way – resisting aid whenever it was offered, always trying to be tough. She is though, you think, but in a different way than she tries to present herself.

“Hidecchi?” a soft voice says, and you catch the first glimpse of orchids you’ve seen in months. Yuki’s standing at the bottom of the stairs, concern on her face. “Onee-chan’s hurt, what happened? Nozomi-mama wouldn’t let me in the bathroom.”

There’s anxiety written all over her face, her mouth pulled tightly in on itself and her eyes just a little screwed up. She’s still in her school uniform, you note. She mustn’t have had ballet today.

“Two first-years from the volleyball club attacked her when she was alone,” you say over a cup of hot chocolate – the Toujou-Ayases always have a supply, courtesy of Eli. “and she was shoved up against a wall. When I showed up, the two of them scattered.”

Yuki placed a hand over her mouth as her eyes widened, and then glared into her mug.

“I told her she should have quit,” Yuki says, and perhaps you’re imagining the venom in her voice but you think just maybe you’re not, “that first-year is always messing with her. She has plenty of other sports. She doesn’t even like volleyball all that much.”

She must have seen surprise in your expression, because her face softens, and she offers you a forced smile. You bite your lip.

“Last year, those girls were my senpai at school. I was never particularly involved with them, but,” Yuki says, frowning. “They bullied girls weaker than them if they messed up in club or even annoyed them. They were always the tallest, so they used that to their advantage. Hoshi’s been telling me about them this whole time, you see – I told her a hundred times she should just quit, because you know what she’s like. She’ll pick a fight with anyone who disrespects her, but she can’t win two on one.”

Yuki sighs, and takes a marshmallow from her mug. You sip at your own, considering what she’s said.

“Hoshi’d never quit, though,” you say, and you know it’s true. Hoshi’s drive to never lose is probably beyond even yours, you think. “She’d feel like she lost a battle.”

Yuki wilts at your words, hunching her shoulders and setting her mug down. The both of you know you’re right, as much as you don’t want to say it.

“If it helps,” you say, wanting to do something to ease her concern, “I think I scared them off, for now.”

Yuki smiles warmly at you, tilting her head.

“You’re a good friend to her, Hidecchi,” she says. “All of us really appreciate it. We know she’s kind of difficult.”

Then, Hoshi stumbles back into the kitchen area, and Yuki dashes to her side, checking her over much in the same fashion as Nozomi did – like mother like daughter, you suppose, even if Yuki’s not quite the prankster her mother is. No, you think, that gene belongs to Hoshi. There’s something so genuine about the way Yuki frets over her older sister that makes you wonder how much of a saint Hoshi was in her past life to deserve such a wonderful young sister.

You head home not long after that, leaving Hoshi to be fussed over. You’ve got your own parents to see, and it’s your turn to cook tonight, so you’ve got to make a stop at the grocery store. Before you shut the door behind you, however, Yuki darts after you.

“Thank you for taking her home, Hidecchi,” she says, a little breathless, “We’re in your debt.”

“O-oh,” you say, and there’s that awful pink rising in your cheeks again, “It’s nothing, honestly. Red Hoshi’s my friend.”

You leave with red cheeks and a wave, and try to convince yourself it’s just because of the chilly breeze, even though it’s a still, warm summer evening.

Aside from that incident, it’s been too long since you’ve caught more than the after-image of orchid-coloured locks when you come home to Kotori-mama and Yuki chatting in your living room over a cup of tea and cake.

“Oh, hi Hidecchi!” she says, waving at you and smiling like you’ve made her day, just by existing. “It’s been way too long since I’ve seen you. Onee-chan talks about you all the time, but it’s really nice to see you in the flesh!”

Even after months of not seeing her, one look is all it takes to turn your chest to a warm, happy mush.

“It’s great to see you too, Yuki-san,” you say, taking a seat beside your mother. “It has been too long. I’m a little surprised to see you in my house, though.”

Kotori-mama grins, and holds up a sketch of an incredibly elegant feathered leotard.

“I’ve been commissioned by Yuki-chan’s ballet company to design the outfits for their performance, so she’s helping me with the design,” your mother says, and you nod. Then, you flush. How embarrassing, in front of your mother.

“Y-yuki-san will be wearing that?” you say, a little overwhelmed. The skirt is gorgeous, but the leotard is skintight, and the thought of it clinging to Yuki’s – curves – sends shivers down your spine.

“Of course!” she says, grinning. “I’m the lead.”

“Isn’t it a bit…tight?” you say gingerly, fearful to comment on aspects that don’t need your opinion. Yuki tilts her head as she looks at you.

“This is standard for a leotard, isn’t it?”

You nod in acceptance, pressing your lips together and trying not to think about Yuki, of all people, in a skimpy, pretty leotard. Your mother giggles at you, and points to the colouring of the skirt.

“What do you think about this sort of colouring, Hi-chan?” she says, flipping through the notepad to show you’re a number of different colourings.

“This one is the nicest,” you say, pointing to the one at the top-left, “but I think you could do well if you took the ombre here, and combined it with the more feathered design here.”

Your mother taps the pencil in her hand against her chin.

“That’d be difficult to make, but I do see your point,” she muses, tilting the notebook this way and that in an attempt to see a different perspective from her sketches. “I’ll definitely think about it.”

Yuki gazes at you with stars in her eyes.

“You’re knowledgeable in fashion, Hidecchi?” she says, marvel in her voice. Your mother smiles proudly, closing her eyes.

“Hi-chan has impeccable taste. I ask them for advice every now and then in designs, and they always have something interesting to contribute. They’re very good at composing outfits,” Kotori-mama says, and you flush at the unwarranted praise.

“I’m really not that impressive,” you say, embarrassment lifting the pitch of your voice. “I just have a good eye, sometimes.”

Yuki nods in wonder, and stands, taking your hands.

“Hidecchi, please take me shopping! I want your opinion on everything I wear!”

The way she looks at you, eyes shining with a kind of admiration you struggle to describe, is breath-taking.

“S-sure,” you say, “if you think you’d like that.”

She claps her hands together and thanks you, bouncing on her heels as she walks over and takes her seat again. You excuse yourself shortly after – you’ve never intruded on your mother’s design sessions much before, and you’ve no intention of starting now, even if Yuki is there.

You wonder why it makes a difference if Yuki is there or not as you open your math book, and work on that night’s homework.

Yuki appears at your house once a week or so, working with your mother through every step of the process. You offer advice and chip in wherever you can, although you don’t think you’re contributing much. Yuki and Kotori-mama seem to appreciate your efforts, however. It’s nice to see her, you think. You’ve spent so many months barely seeing a glimpse of her, and now you have the time to chat and make idle conversation a little. It’s not much, but you’ve missed her.

“Hidecchi!” she says to you one day as you arrive home. “Would you happen to be free this Sunday? I don’t have training, so could you please take me shopping?”

Your only choice, really, is to nod and smile.

Sunday is a day of warm, sunny weather, and you thank the gods it’s not raining. The thought of sharing an umbrella makes you shudder. How embarrassing.

You meet on the bus, catching the same one into town as you head towards the nearest clothing stores. It’s almost full, so the two of you sit in the same seat, and you make a conscious effort to take up as little seat room as possible. You don’t want to touch her, and make her uncomfortable. That’d be awful.

It’s a little quiet on the bus between you two – Yuki stares out the opposite window, occasionally checking her phone, and you’re watching her reflection in the window. There’s something bouncier to the way she moves today. She’s a little hastier, a little jerkier, a little happier than normal, you think as her phone slips from her hands and goes clattering to the floor. Naturally, your arms are longer, so you bend down and pick it up for her. There’s a curious stutter in her voice as you hand it back to her, and you briefly entertain the thought that perhaps she’s just as nervous as you are. You quash it, however, because there’s just no way. She was the one who invited you out, after all. You just don’t have the confidence to do the same, as you are now.

“A-ah, Hidecchi, how about we take a selfie?” she says, holding the phone out. You’re a little embarrassed, but – you can’t think of a reason to deny her, so you lean into her and smile. Yuki makes a peace sign and grins. Once it’s done, you immediately lean back the other way, hoping you’re not blushing again, except there’s a distinct possibility you are. Still, it’d be rude to look away suddenly, so you try to make the transition subtle.

“Don’t you wanna see it?” she says, and you glance at her again, your face still probably a shameful pink.

“Sure,” you breathe, and Yuki holds up her phone. It’s a little cute, you think, but then you flush. The two of you look like – like a couple.

How shameful. You’re not even dating. You pray Yuki doesn’t notice or mind. From the way she hums and smiles at it, you don’t think she does.

When you get off the bus, the sun outside is pleasantly warm, and you’re grateful you’re only in jeans and a t-shirt. Wearing a hoodie today would have been awful. Yuki’s in strappy sandals, denim short shorts, and an embroidered black tank top. It’s a simple outfit, but then, Yuki’s always dressed simply.

“I know you’re here to help me,” Yuki says as you step into the first clothing store you find, “but if you see anything you like, don’t hesitate to look!”

You smile and nod, but it’s not like this is your sort of shop, anyway. Most of it is frilly, lacy or something along those lines – nothing you’re interested in, but you could definitely, probably find something for Yuki here.

Of course, like any awful clothing store, all the hangers are crushed together, making it a struggle to even get a glimpse of anything. It’s all too tight, and you’re about to give up when you catch sight of something white and simple. It’s a struggle, but you manage to remove it from the tangle of other clothes. It’s a white dress, you realise, a lacy overlay with a sewn-in slip. It’s a little on the short side, and the neck scoops a little deep, but you think you can do quite nicely with this.

“Yuki,” you say, “can you find me a plain black tank top in your size?”

The girl nods, and darts to your side. You hold up the lace dress, and watch as her eyes widen.

“It’s pretty,” she says, and you nod, pleased with yourself. “I kind of want to try it on.”

She takes the dress from you, and the two of you find the changing rooms at the back of the store. You direct her from outside.

“Wear the black tank top beneath the dress, and take your hair down,” you say, “Your sandals should be fine with this sort of outfit, because you don’t want to be wearing heavy shoes to draw attention downwards. The focus should be on the dress.”

When Yuki steps out, she looks gorgeous, and you can only stare. You were definitely right with the hair down, you think – it covers the sweeping gape of the neckline a little, but still shows off her shoulders. The girl herself seems thoroughly pleased with your guidance, and opts to buy the dress.

“You’re amazing, Hidecchi!” she says, bouncing on her heels as she walks, changed back into her own clothes. “How did you know to add all those little touches?”

You just shrug, and look away, trying not to let your face go any redder.

“Kotori-mama, mainly,” you offer, weakly, “She is a fashion designer, after all.”

Yuki hums in agreement, pulling you along by the hand as you search for the next store, and the process begins again. You don’t have as much success in every store – you find nothing for her in the beach-style store, although you do eye up a t-shirt that’s worth coming back for later – but by the end of the day, you’ve seen Yuki through three outfits, and she’s carrying three bags to match. You’ve never been one to spend your money so rapidly, but you suppose she must value your judgement. It was difficult to keep and adhere to her style – the more stores you visited, the more clothes she shook her head at, leaving you incredibly disappointed when you’d finally found a diamond in the rough.

Still, though, you’d agreed on a few nice outfits, and that was really all she needed, considering she’d be in school uniform or a leotard most of the time anyway. The girl herself seems absolutely enthralled with her loot, and on the bus ride back, she keeps rifling through the bags, messing up the way the nice shop attendants had folded them. You’re about to reprimand her, but when you see that smile on her face, you falter. It’d be a crime to interrupt her happiness, you think. It’d be absolutely criminal. The girl takes another selfie with all her bags, and you think that seeing her grin is worth almost any price you can pay.

You decide to walk her home – it’s a little late, and it’s unsafe for someone as young as she, probably. You ignore the flutter in your chest when you think your time with her extending just a little bit longer.

“It must be amazing having Umi-san and Kotori-san as parents,” she says to you, almost babbling, “Kotori-san is an incredibly fashion designer, which is probably why you’re always so well-dressed, and you’re always so polite! Not that you need to be with me because we’re friends, you know, but that’s Umi-san’s influence, I bet.”

“Really?” you say, “I think they’re amazing for different reasons. Kotori-mama is very perceptive, and always knows when I need space, or when I need comforting. Umi-mama is stricter, but she’s never said no to helping me practise Kendo late into the night, even when she’s already exhausted from work. They’re both amazing, in their own way.”

You hardly ever speak your mind on your parents – firstly, it’s embarrassing, and secondly, no-one cares to ask, but it feels nice to talk about just how much you appreciate them.

However, when you turn to look back at Yuki, there’s an expression there you can’t read, and it sends a brilliant scarlet across your cheeks.

“Hidecchi, that’s so adorable!” she says, throwing her arms around your torso. “You really love your parents, huh?”

The way she looks up at you with big, admiring eyes is a little too much, and you decide to avert your gaze before you do something shameful like stutter your words.

“O-of course I do. I respect them very much.” Too late.

Yuki giggles at you, and you try to hide your embarrassment, but really, there’s no saving you now. Thankfully, you’re at the front door of the Toujou-Ayase house before you know it, and your humiliation can finally end.

“Thank you very much for taking me out today, Hidecchi,” Yuki says, offering you a small bow. You’re almost startled by her formalness, but you’re grateful. It takes the edge off of the heat in your cheeks.

“I enjoyed myself too. I’ll see you later, Yuki-chan,” you say, and pause.

Wait a second.

Yuki……chan?

The girl at your side seems about as shocked as you are. You’re still processing it when she gapes at you.

“Did you just say…Yuki-chan?” she says, slowly.

You panic.

“N-no, I didn’t mean to!” you say, completely frazzled. “I’m really sorry, please forgive my rudeness.”

“I-it’s fine!” she says, equally frantic, “I really don’t mind, it just caught me by surprise! You don’t even use chan for Onee-chan, so I didn’t really expect…”

“Please accept my sincerest apologies, Yuki-san!” you say, bowing as low as you can. How shameful, how shameful. “My forwardness is unacceptable!”

“N-no, really, it’s fine, I actually prefer the nickname!” she says, and you look up, at her rather pink face, perfectly matching your own.

“You do…?” you say, with a lot less elegance than intended. Your pitch and tone are all over the place.

“Mm, I do…” she squeaks, looking away.

“Well, i-in that case,” you say, and it’s so, so, shameful, “May I refer to you as ‘Yuki-chan’ from now on?”

She nods, arms straight at her sides like poles. You nod back, unsure of what else to do.

Suddenly, the door opens.

“Yuki-chan, are you back?” Hoshi says, standing outside in her pyjamas. Her eyes widen when she sees you.

“You were,” she says, “with Hidecchi, today?”

There’s something different in Hoshi’s voice – is she becoming protective over her younger sister? Have you overstepped the boundary too far?

Yuki nods, suddenly pale. The three of you fall silent as Hoshi stares at you, that same difference looking right at you in her eyes.

“W-well, I should return home,” you say, in an attempt to escape from the awfully awkward tension between you. “I’ll be going then, Yuki-chan.”

Hoshi’s eyes narrow.

“Yuki-chan?” she says, taking a step forwards and tilting her head. “What’s this? You’re calling her by that sort of name, even though you refused when I asked…?”

You think that Hoshi’s protective sister side is something to be very, very afraid of. There’s a pause as Hoshi stares at you with dead, unreadable eyes. You wonder if Hoshi’s going to say something, going to break the silence, but she stands still.

Then, she smirks.

“You’re weird, Hidecchi. See ya.”

With that, Hoshi pulls Yuki inside, and shuts the door in your face. You’re not sure exactly what just happened, but you feel like you’ve crossed a line, over which there’s no going back. Hoshi’s on to you, you think. You have a formidable opponent.

Not that you’d ever consider that, would you? Sure, today with Yuki could be seen as something like that, but it wasn’t, really. The two of you weren’t like that – and even if on the off chance you happened to desire something resembling that sort of thing, it wasn’t like it was appropriate. You’re two years her senior, you think. Perhaps to adults that might not matter so much, but at this age? It was improper to even consider the idea. There’s just no way, you acknowledge, that such a thing could be possible.

Probably.

Yuki stops showing up at your house once your mother is almost finished with the costume. You help her a little with the addition of the feathers – having to hand-dye each and every one of them is a monumental task, and even with the two of you, it still takes you a week to finish them all. Then, it’s all about sewing the right feathers to the right place. You’re not skilled enough to help your mother sew, but you do your best to help by organising the feathers and preparing them to be sewn.

When the costume is finally finished, it’s breath-taking to see. There’s something magical about the way the feathers move with the costume, with no bald spots to see.

“You’re incredible, Kotori,” Umi-mama says when the two of you show her the finished design. “It’s so detailed.”

“It wouldn’t look so amazing without Hi-chan’s help,” Kotori-mama replies, threading her fingers between Umi-mama’s and pressing a kiss to her cheek. Your other mother flushes, and you’re almost doing the same.

“I didn’t really help, much,” you say, bowing your head a little, but Kotori-mama shakes her head.

“The two of you did an amazing job,” Umi-mama says, still red in the face but recovering, and reaches for her back pocket. Then, she reveals three tickets.

“Eli gave me these,” she says, smiling, “Three tickets to Yuki’s recital. In the second row, too.”

You heart skips a beat because – this is what you’ve wanted. You’ll finally be able to see it, to see her up on that shining stage, wearing the costume you helped design, performing a ballet she’s worked on the entire year to perfect. You’ll be able to see it – not in disguise, either. You won’t have to hide; you’ll be able to watch her to your heart’s content. Umi-mama hands over your ticket, and you hold it to your chest, smiling. Kotori-mama giggles at you, but you don’t worry about it.

The night of the performance, you dress yourself in your favourite tuxedo – black, naturally, with a royal blue shirt, and a matching black bowtie. The only true personal touch you can add to the outfit is your cufflinks, a gift from Umi-mama when you turned fourteen. They’re simple, but have your name engraved in Kanji – ‘Sonoda Hideki’. It brings a smile to your face to wear them – you don’t get the opportunity all that often, and they’re one of your most treasured gifts.

Kotori-mama takes the opportunity to do your hair – normally you don’t let her, because she’ll spend hours on it, but for tonight, you think you might just. She’s careful with the way she brushes it, never pulling too hard, but slowly and methodically removing every knot. She ties your hair into a low ponytail at the nape of your neck, affixing it with a black bow.

“There, Hi-chan,” she says, and there’s pride in her voice. “You look striking.”

A compliment like that from your mother is never a lie, and it takes all your strength not to reject it.

“Thank you, “ you say, and you smile, genuinely. “You look beautiful too, mama.”

She’s dressed in a cream cocktail dress with a black coat, complete with tights and high heels that complement the outfit in ways you can’t even express. It seems underwhelming to say she looks stunning, but then – no other words really fit, do they?

“Umi-chan, are you ready?”

Your other mother descends the stairs with the kind of grace you wish you possessed. She’s dressed similar to you, although with a white shirt, her hair loose, and naturally, different cufflinks. Umi-mama’s are a wedding gift from Honoka – two seagulls. The symbolism would seem a little hamfisted if not for how gorgeous the cufflinks were, made of silver – your parents cite them as Honoka’s best ever gift.

“I am,” Umi-mama says, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Shall we go?”

Your parents have ordered a taxi, and you take the back seat with Kotori-mama. The roof is barely centimetres from your head, but you don’t want to slouch and crease your tuxedo. The taxi itself smells strange – of leather and of cigarettes. You’ve never liked smoking, so you wind down the window, and lean out, inhaling the scent of the wind.

The city lights at night are pretty, you think. You left the house at half-past-eight, so naturally it was already dark, but you can count the times you’ve seen the city lights at night on one hand. There’s all sorts of colours – the yellow of the streetlights, the pink, green and blue of neon signs, the red, orange and white lights of the cars – and they all glow together like fireworks. You wonder if Yuki’s stage will be anything like this – do they even use coloured lighting at the ballet? It’s not like you’ve ever been before. You wonder if you should have asked Hoshi, to prepare yourself. She’s been a hundred times, probably, to watch Yuki. Then again, you think, maybe never to a performance as big as this. It’s the second time she’s has performed to a public audience, and the first time she’s performed at a venue massive enough to warrant two layers of seating.

You wonder what Yuki’s doing right now, whilst you’re watching the colours pass by. Is she practising? Is she having her make-up done? Is she wearing the costume you helped make? Is she resting? You’ve no idea about what goes on before the curtains go up – surely the final run-through occurs earlier in the day? You’ve got to ask her once it’s over, you think, because you’ve just got to know. You want to know everything about how it works – you want to know everything about her.

The taxi finally stops, and so does your heart as you take in the sheer size of the theatre. It’s much, much bigger than you’d ever imagined. Your surprise must have shown on your face, because Kotori-mama leans over and whispers in your ear.

“There are three theatres here,” she says, and her breath tickles your ear. “Yuki’s performance is in the smallest one. A girl in junior high, even of Yuki’s calibre, isn’t quite ready to perform in a theatre seating nearly two thousand. She might, one day, though.”

You inhale at the thought of Yuki’s dancing attracting a crowd of two thousand. Perhaps Hoshi’s bragging wasn’t exaggeration at all. You want to look for them, but they’ve been given VIP access, and front-row seats. You doubt you’ll see them at all this evening.

You meet the Hoshizora-Nishikino family in the foyer – or, to be correct, you’re jumped from behind by two well-dressed children with suspiciously familiar orange hair.

“Miki! Mika! Get off of them!” comes a furious cry, and you can only watch as Maki yanks both of them by the ear off of you. It’s a relief to have their weight removed from your shoulders, and it’s always amusing to see them get chewed out by their mother. You can’t help but let a wry grin pass to your lips, and it only widens when the two catch sight of your face, and scowl. Rin manifests beside her wife, and it almost takes you by surprise – she’s almost stealthy sometimes.

“You really can’t jump poor Hi-chan like that, nya,” Rin says, but there’s a glint in her eye, and the twin’s expressions switch back to mischievous in a split second. Maki sighs, rolls her eyes and approaches you.

“I’m sorry about them, Hideki-chan,” she says, smiling. “I hope they didn’t pull your suit. You look very dashing.”

“No, not at all,” you reply, a little embarrassed but a little flattered at Maki’s compliment, “You look very pretty tonight, too. Is that dress from Kotori-mama’s winter line?”

Maki’s dress is solid red, with a ruffle down one side. You’re almost sure you helped your mother with that one a little bit ago, and she seems pleased at your attention to detail.

“You’re observant,” she says, raising an eyebrow. “It is indeed. Could it be, perhaps, that you helped Kotori with this dress?”

You nod, briefly, and try to ignore the way your cheeks tinge pink.

“Just the colour, really,” you say – and your own mother must have noticed at the same time you did, because all of a sudden Kotori lands Maki in a brief hug, and the two immediately lapse into conversation without you. It almost feels a little rude, but you’re not particularly fussed. There’s something about the way they interact that makes you feel nostalgic on their behalf – they’ve been friends for a long, long time.

When you take a look around, Umi’s disappeared, and you find her on the other side of the room, talking with Honoka – which means that Akiko and Taiki are also here, probably. You’re about to step up and say hello when you see the two Kira-Kousaka kids with Kusuki, and hesitate. It’s not as if you dislike her, you just – you don’t know her quite as well as you do the others. Nico is chatting with Tsubasa, and Hanayo with Rin, which means – where are the twins?

A sinking feeling grows in your stomach, and you’re filled with the sudden compulsion to sidestep. Your instincts have never been wrong before, so you decide to trust them, and dodge elegantly to the left. You hear a satisfying thud as Miki and Mika crash to the floor right where you’d just been, and smile.

“Hey, no fair! How did you know we were coming?” Miki complained, slowly rising up off their twin, and offering Mika a hand.

“I’m often with Hoshi and Yuki, you know. Perhaps some of their spiritual power rubbed off on me.”

That, you think, and the fact that you could feel the air change right before they leapt – it wasn’t like they’d inherited Rin’s bizarre stealth. No, the twins were anything but stealthy.

They joke around with you, although you’re quick to point out when they’re being ridiculous – which is most of the time – and before too long, you’re being let into the theatre. Your ticket is taken at the door by a man in a suit, and you follow your parents inside – then you stop, and gape.

“This is the smallest theatre…?” you whisper to Kotori, trying not to gape. “It could seat hundreds of people.” Your mother ruffles the tuft on your head as she smiles at you.

“Just under 500, to be precise,” she whispers back, “Isn’t this amazing?”

You can only nod in agreement, because it feels like talking in such a massive theatre is prohibited, simply by nature. Everyone around you is in suits and dresses – you thought a suit was perhaps overdressing, but you’re a little glad to see all the other attendees were of the same mind. You follow your parents to your seat – the second row, in the middle. Maki takes a seat beside you, sandwiching the twins between herself and Rin. A wise choice, you think. The twins are renowned for their inability to sit still. Maki’s always claimed it to be her wife’s fault, but you wonder just how stern Maki really is. From what you’ve heard from the twins, she’s much more of a softie than she presents herself to be.

There’s a program on your seat printed in glossy paper – inside, a list of the acts, a list of the dancers, and a synopsis. Your heart skips when it trails over the names – ‘Odette – portrayed by Ayase Yuki’. It all seems so official, so professional, and you wonder just good Yuki really is. You’ve always known she was a prodigy but as you look around the entire theatre is almost full, and you can’t name even a quarter of the faces in the audience. You’d have thought this was some sort of small event, limited to family and friends, but – there were strangers here, the likes of which you doubt anyone in her family had ever met.

Act I, you realise, doesn’t even feature Yuki at all. She doesn’t appear until Act II, although she’s in Act III and IV also. You fight the urge to slump – sure, you’re disappointed, but you have to remain proper in an establishment such as this. Eventually, the lights dim, the curtains rise, the music begins, and then, they begin to dance. Even if Yuki isn’t there, you’re mesmerised – there’s something about the way the dancers move that’s so telling – each movement is so precise, so elegant, but it tells a story, and you find you only need the plot synopsis for names and events. Everything else you can glean just from the feel of the music, the lighting, and the way the dancers move.

You hear a shifting in the seat beside you – Maki’s folded her legs, resting her hand on her knee. She’s wearing a pensive expression, and she glances at you as she catches you staring.

“Is something wrong, Maki-san?” you dare to ask in a whisper, but Maki shakes her head, smiling again.

“Not at all,” she says, voice low but just loud enough to be head, “This pianist is…very talented. I’m a little jealous,” she admits, and you nod, because even someone without any musical talents like you can hear the skill in the music. You wonder if all this is normal for ballerinas. Somehow, you get the feeling it isn’t.

The lights come on, marking the first intermission as Act I comes to a close. You’re not exactly tired, but you take the opportunity to fetch a brief glass of water, and a small snack. You’ve had dinner, but you ate light, tonight.

Then you’re back in your seat in an instant, the lights are dimming, and you see her.

You know every inch of that leotard, but watching her wear it is cause for you to trace it over and over again with your eyes, memorising the placement of the feathers in the skirt in black and white and lavender to match, each movement and bounce of the skirt leaving you mesmerised. In the pale moon-like lighting, surrounded by white smoke and moving so smoothly and gracefully it seems almost impossible to you, she looks ethereal. You’re not sure when you last let oxygen pass through your lungs, but watching her, such meagre things such as breathing seem impossible. You can only gaze and stare as she dances, her movement and expression perfectly controlled and perfectly expressive. You don’t think you could find a flaw, even if you weren’t blinded by how brightly she shines. There’s glitter on her cheeks, dark eye-shadow that pales sadly under the stage lights, lonely swan that she is. Her legs are without fault, and they carry her as if she were weightless. Years of training have left her frame slender and lean, and you trace every muscle with your eyes as if you were running your hands across them yourself.

When Prince Siegfried appears and does just that as Act III begins, you wish with all your heart that you could take his place – but you’re too clumsy, too lanky to ever be able to match her partner’s grace. Manners and suits do little to make up for years of training to become so elegant and so graceful as to be able to court a swan. You could never stand on that stage as her equal – only he can, and only he does, but you want to so, so badly. All you can do is watch from the second row, and hope that one day, she’ll step off the stage and take your hand, because he’ll never, ever –

He’ll never love her the way that you do.

Your heart skips a beat as you register the thought that appears in your mind, and your face flushes bright red. You’ve never been more grateful for the darkness.

You love her, you love her, you love her. It’s taken you this long to realise, but you think maybe you’ve felt this way for quite a while, and you don’t doubt the sincerity of how you feel. There’s no way you could – she’s been on your mind since junior high, and you’re well, well past that now. You’ve never had a crush before, but you think – you know – that this is what it feels like. You don’t know how, but – you know.

Maki regards you curiously, even in the lowlights of the cinema. You pretend you don’t see her staring at you – even eventually she looks away, watching the performance again. As it should be – no matter how long you look, Yuki is still breath-taking and that’s – that’s only one of the reasons your heart swells whenever you think of her.

The ballet ends as Yuki and Siegfried take their lives, and rise to Heaven together. It takes all your composure not to cry – but when you look to either side, Umi-mama is sobbing, and Mika and Miki are in tears. The stage lights come on, and crowd applauds. You don’t think you’ve clapped harder or longer in your life, but a single stray tear slips down your face as the applause comes to a gentle, rolling close. Then, bit-by-bit, the crowd begans to diffuse into the side halls. You get separated from your parents and Maki in the crowd, and you can’t see anyone you know – not that it’s reason to panic, but they’ll worry about you.

You find yourself in an unfamiliar hall, but there’s a bathroom, so you step inside briefly. When you re-emerge, the hall is empty. You’re completely alone, and you can hear your footsteps echo with every step. You can’t be in the outer ring of the building – there’s no glass wall showing the lights and stars from outside, but other than that, you’re completely, completely lost. You didn’t bring your cellphone, either – you thought it might be rude, in a ballet performance – so it wasn’t as if you could call someone.

It was fine, you’d – you’d find your way out of here eventually. It was probably just through the next door, you think, taking the initiative and picking a door at random. Probably, you think. Probably.

Except it’s not that door, nor I it the next you pick, and suddenly you’re all alone in a strange hallway of which you have no idea how to get out of. Every door you pick is an empty dressing room, and you can’t even remember which door you initially came from. There’s something balled up in your stomach now, and you think maybe it’s not how you feel about Yuki this time. Your breathing starts to speed up a little, because you’re looking around a little more frantically now, and every now and then you hear something that sounds just a little like something behind you – not that anything is, probably, but it’s just something that you can consider, if you need to think about all the things that are currently wrong with this situation, because you would very much like to just find your parents and go home, because you’re not worried but they’re probably worried about you, of course, and then maybe you’d stop feeling so anxious – not that you’re really al that anxious, probably, maybe, but you think could be, just a little bit, and –

“Hidecchi?”

Yuki.

You’d know her voice anywhere, and seeing her appear in front of you sends your heart soaring to the skies. You’re saved, you found her, and –

“What are you doing here?” she whispers, and is that panic on her face? “You can’t be here, this is off-limits to the public.”

“I…” you say, and all you can think about is how much you hate how your voice is so low, so soft, so gentle, so wobbly, “I’m lost.”

Yuki inhales, and exhales, and then her expression softens. At the sound of someone’s voice, however, she takes your hand and yanks you into one of the dressing rooms.

“We should be fine in here – I’m finished changing, but they don’t need to know that,” she says, releasing your hand as soon as you’re safe. You wish a little that she’d lingered, even for a moment. Even if such a thought was shameful, you still wish it. “I’ll take you out with me, and we can go find our parents together, okay?”

You just nod, futilely, because there’s really no arguing with her as you are now – a little bit flustered and a little bit anxious and – just a little bit smitten. Even in her normal clothes – a hoodie and a skirt, like she always used – you still think she looks breathtaking.

“Hey, Yuki-chan,” you say, and she turns her head, gazing at you with eyes that Monet could paint and not do justice. “You were utterly incredible out there tonight. I don’t think I’ve ever been so mesmerised.” You still dislike the sound of your voice but – at least you can sound gentle.

She freezes, and her face turns red – “O-oh, thank you, Hidecchi…” she says, rubbing the back of her head. She’s too cute, you think, and you barely refrain from placing a hand on your heart.

“Hey, um, I’ve been thinking this for a while, perhaps, or, well, it would be more accurate say for the past two years or so I’ve been feeling like this, but – “

And then, without thinking, you go ahead and say it.

“Yuki-chan, I think I’m in love with you.”

As soon as those words pass through your lips, you bury your face in your hands because – how embarrassing, how shameful, how could you tell her? You haven’t even asked her parents for permission, yet here you are confessing your feelings? You’ve only barely realised them yourself, so how could –

“I’m sorry, Yuki, I didn’t mean to – “

“I – “

The two of you start to speak at the same time, and you peel your face from your hands so you can watch her expression, as embarrassed as you feel because – her face is the same shade of red as yours, and she’s shaking just as much as you are, and –

“I feel the same way, Hidecchi. F-for a long time now, I have.”

Oh.

Which meant that all those blushing faces and stutters you’ve seen, were they – did you cause them? The thought sends your mind spinning, and the tips of your ears glow luminescent pink. The two of you stare at each other, faces too red, bodies to stiff to move or do or say anything at all.

Then, the two of you begin to laugh.

Yuki’s laugh is soft and sweet, a gentle giggle that reminds you of a melody – your laugh is nothing in comparison, but somehow, the two of you make it sound like a harmony. The two of you are still blushing with no end in sight, but – somehow, it all seems just a little hilarious. If you’d been feeling the same way for so long, then it was only your obliviousness to blame.

Somehow, the two of you end up on your knees, still laughing as if you’d just heard the funniest joke in the world – you’re shedding tears now, and you need to gape for every breath. How ungainly, you think, how embarrassing, how shameful, but – Yuki’s just the same as you, so maybe this once, it’s alright to forget decorum. Just this once.

“Hey, Hidecchi,” she says to you as the two of you make your way to the front of the building.

“Mm?”

“What you said to me, back there, made me really, really happy,” she says, and offers you a shaky smile that might just be the most precious thing you’ve ever, ever seen.