Chapter Text
THE STAGE LIGHTS WERE BLINDING.
You felt exposed under them, as if the audience could see every bead of sweat that dripped down your forehead.
The makeup you had patted on was now creased and smeared despite the abundance of setting spray you had put on. In the center of the spanish opera house you stood dressed in a feathery white tutu, a true swan queen.
Every leap or turn made your heart race with excitement. You moved on instinct, feet already memorized each step that was drilled into you after months of rehearsals.
The hum of violins started to pick up the pace and you knew that the climax was approaching.
You whip yourself around, concentrating on the exit sign of the theater as you finish your last fouetté. Satisfied, you pose gracefully while the audience applauded.
The clapping concluded and you felt hands grip your waste as you prepared yourself. Core tightened, muscles tense as you felt your feet leave the ground, making sure they were pointed. Your hands were raised above your head, smiling as the man who was casted as your prince waltzed around the stage with the you hoisted up on his shoulder.
Smiling brightly despite every part of your body ached. If you had to keep your arms in the air any longer you might just actually drop dead.
Your partners grip was firm as he prepared to gently set you down. His hands were fumbling with your tutu in an attempt to avoid ruffling it up. Although rather than helping, his grip slipped.
A loud thud echoed throughout the theatre.
Your body crashed onto the floor.
Loud gasps and "oh's" was all you could hear besides the ringing in your ear. You lifted your gaze to meet theirs, unable to hide the sheer terror of embarrassment.
In the sea of shocked faces, it was easy to pick out your mother. Her mouth was drawn into a thin line, looking bored.
Suddenly you feel the same partner who dropped you lift you back up. He muttered something in spanish under his breath that made you wince.
Had you not been in Spain for so long, you would've mistaken "Perra estupida" for an apology.
It was until you rolled up on pointe for the final pose that you felt an uncomfortable sensation happening in your foot. It was hard to ignore, and you're sure the pain was evident in the way your smile tensed.
You prayed for the orchestra to finish up so you could rush off stage.
After what felt like decades of poses and fake smiles, as soon as the curtain dropped you limped towards the wings and made your way towards the dressing room.
Several girls followed suit, Gabrielle helping you onto a chair and María grabbing your water bottle.
"Lo hiciste genial ahí fuera [name] — you did great out there!" said Maria.
" Gracias, a ti también — thanks, you too," You replied in spanish, although your japanese accent was evident. However at the moment the only thing you cared about was ripping the pointe shoe off.
You hastily untied each ribbon and slipped the shoe off, carelessly tossing it on the ground. After peeling your toe pad off, all you could see was red.
The nail of your big toe was cracked right in the center and a little below your joint you could see purple beginning to rise.
The girls gasped and some winced at the sight, "No te quedes ahí estúpida, dale un curita — don't just stand there stupid, get her a bandaid!" Gabriella barked, you could barely understand much of what she said, only bandage.
One girl began fumbling through her bag until she found a gauze and all you could do was close your eyes and groan. The memory of your mother's face in the audience sent a chill down your spine.
This was gonna bite you in the ass
—
The heat was brutal no matter what time of day. It was one of the few things you disliked about Spain.
The sun had long since set and you were scrolling absentmindedly on your phone. The tumble you took earlier replayed in your mind, cheeks growing hot as the embarrassment hit you like a wave.
You fiddled with your necklace to ease your anxiety as you cringed at the memory. The theater had long since been deserted and all you could do was wait outside.
Eventually a sleek car pulled up. It shined even in the nightlight. You felt your stomach drop. The driver got out and jogged around to open the car door for you. When you saw those familiar black curls, your mood shifted for the better.
"Sorry for the wait, miss," he bowed. He was stiff as always. Although you were glad to see he hadn't changed much during your absence.
You gave a polite smile, "No worries. Nice to see you, Haruto."
Haruto only nodded. Not particularly wanting to engage in anything other a polite exchange. It was more than was enough confirmation that your mother was indeed waiting for you in the back seat.
Gripping your dance bag tighter, you slid into the leather seats holding your breath. The sight of your mother reapplying her makeup gave you some hope she would brush over what occurred on stage.
But unfortunately that would not be the case.
"Great performance, [name]," she said curtly.
Your hand reached up to grab your necklace, "Thank you, ma'am."
An awkward silence followed. Your gaze flicked to Haruto whose gaze was locked into the road ahead. But you knew he was listening intently by the way his eyes would flicker between the two of you.
"Correct me if i'm wrong," here it comes, "But I did I send you to Spain for you to climb the ranks and eventually become a prima ballerina, yes?"
You closed your eyes and sighed, "Yes."
She hummed, slamming her pocket mirror closed a little too harshly for your liking. "Then tell me... what was it that happened on that stage."
Your partner was too incompetent to gently set you down, "It was an accident."
Mother scoffed. You wondered how she could make reapplying her lipstick look threatening, "You can't make accidents in the spanish ballet. If i had done something like that at the Royal Opera House, they would've sent me home without hesitation."
She always did love rambling on about her days as a dancer. Always complaining you to her, like becoming a prima ballerina was some unreachable feat only she had achieved. Thankfully, you were old enough to let her snide comments roll off your back.
You stayed silent. Not wanting to be reminded of your failures any longer, so you tuned her out. Shifting your attention the buildings blurring together out the window.
Madrid was beautiful, you wish you had explored it more on your days off. But when you weren't spending your time at rehearsals, you had to attend parties the opera house held as well as some other events on behalf of your parents.
Your mind wandered and you almost forgot the dictator of a woman sat next to you until she popped her lips, "We're leaving for Japan tonight."