Disclaimer: Takahashi-sama and co. I am not. A lowly fanfic authoress I am. Talk like Yoda I do. Seen Star Wars too many times I have. Own Yugioh and Star Wars I do not.
Dusk Dancing
Facaya- Steps of the Imagination
Spin... flow...
No, this wasn't working. She was mere inches from him; much too close. Atemu again pushed gently further away from Shizuka. He did it gently, but inwardly he was disgusted. How could people possibly enjoy such a mindless waste of time as dancing? Especially -he shuddered involuntarily- Dusk Dancing?
It was a nauseating concept really, that of dawn and dusk dancing. Sawn dancing, the light side of the matter, group dancing, was to extract and work out the playful side of souls. Dusk dancing, partner dancing, was to twist and chop the dark side of your soul, the side that waited in the shadows, in your subconsciousness, driven by feelings, feelings out of your control. It was designed to blow on small flames kindled deep within you, to rub the flint stones of your emotions together, until a fire of attraction burned inside of you.
Quite frankly, the Eythereau prince did not want his mind toyed with that way. It was an easy feeling to simply surrender your whole being to, and certainly no one else in the dancing hall seemed to mind it, but...
Her eyes fluttered open, round and deep like freshly chopped tree stubs, sweet and caring yet brimming with life and personality. He willed himself not to get lost in her physical beauty, as the exhilaration of the dance they were currently engaged in was pushing him to do.
"What is it, love?" she asked quietly, smiling and giggling prettily in pleasure as he pulled her into a low dip, the instrumentalists around them flying into tingly slurs of mystic pitches.
He took his time answering to that title of 'love.' Engagement didn't necessarily entail love between the two engaged. It definitely didn't. Not so soon.
"This dancing..."
"Hmm...?" She leaned her head on his shoulder, placing both hands on his chest. He despaired, nervously glancing around the Eythereau palace's spacious dusk dancing hall for a route of escape, hoping for some great inspiration to strike him, to jump out from in back of a stone pillar, to shine down on him from one of the many glittering chandeliers, or to walk up and save him from behind another couple, another two people deeply absorbed in the fluidity of the sarala dance.
Or at least, it was the potential for the simple facaya to become a sarala. The two were so alike, yet different in too many ways to name. Neither had cement steps; rather couples forged their own beat and path as instrumentalists did the same thing. There was no rhyme or rhythm to this dance of feelings, just the drive to carry on with it. And if that drive was strong enough, the facaya became a sarala.
Sarala. That was not a level Prince Atemu wanted to take this dance to.
"Shizuka... we're a little close..."
"No, we're not. You can't expect to dance a proper sarala without being a bit close, do you?" She ran a finger up his bare arm, and it took all his will not to purr in pleasure. He cursed his involuntary thoughts. Shizuka was in the Eythereau dawn dancing competition dancing troupe, and that talent seemed to seep through her very touch. It was soft, smooth, and soothing, yet chilly and alien, like freezing water slithering its way down his arm, numbing his ability to think clearly.
"Yes, but..."
"Come on, love..."
"Shizuka, I..."
"You what?"
He shook his head. "'Zuka, I've had enough dancing for tonight."
"But-"
"No." He swiftly detached himself from her grasp and fled the dusk dancing hall, walking at a brisk pace down an empty corridor, the light of its many torches his only companion as he made his way around the palace, hastily running from Shizuka.
The hallway's side graciously opened up to become a wide balcony, overlooking the bubbling indigo North Eythereau ocean. He stepped over to the stone railing and leaned into it, closing his eyes and allowing the magical Eythereau sea air to whip around him, pleasantly caressing his face and hissing ancient aquatic tales in his ears.
"Son."
"... Father. You followed me?"
"Why did you so obviously deny Shizuka just now? Are the two of you in an argument? Are you-"
"No, Father."
"Then what caused you to desert her so suddenly?" Akhenemkhanen, King of Eythereau, quirked an eyebrow.
His son sighed. What was he to say? The truth was that he was uncomfortable dancing such a dance with Shizuka. That wouldn't be believed by the king, not by a long shot. Most males his age would die for a chance to dance a facaya with such an attractive young woman as Shizuka, and would quickly see to it that the dance evolved into a full-out sarala.
"I just... the dance was..." He scrambled for a believable excuse- "It was quite warm in the dusk dancing hall, Father. I... I fled for fear of possibly throwing up on Shizuka. You... you know how I can be sensitive to heat in that way."
"Aye, but maybe an apology to her wold be in order, poor girl. I can't believe how you treat her sometimes--almost like you don't wish to marry!" He laughed, the low, sickening chuckle causing the prince to hide his face in the shadow of a column on the balcony, for it had suddenly become the flushed hue of a setting sun, heat rushing through his face. He cursed under his breath.
"Are you all right, son?"
"Y-yes. I'm fine, Father. I believe that I just need to retire early tonight, that's all."
The king nodded. "Do so, then. I don't believe that our dawn troupe needs much more training tonight. Have you seen them practice?"
"No. I've been studying dance, not taking part in dancing, as you said to."
"Ah, yes. Well, I personally think it's our best yet. Anzu, Amane, Kisara, Shizuka, Mai, and Miho, in that order of rank. They're fabulous."
"And who is Anzu's partner for the dusk competition?"
"Johnny."
"Again? Don't the males usually only last a year?"
"Those two were fantastic last year, and they work wonderfully together."
The teen prince nodded, closing his eyes and sniffing in deeply the tangy ocean air. His nostrils came alive as the delightful gulf scent reached them, filled with great knowledge sprung from leagues deeper than where he leaned on the railing.
"Have you any idea who the Ergden dancers will be this year?"
"Truthfully, none at all. There's no way to narrow anything down with Ergden. Their dawn dancing troupe is mixed-gender, so it's impossible to say who they'll take on."
"Why do all those people with dancing gifts here in Eythereau seem to be females, with the exception of a few males?"
"Ah, I believe you can figure that one out."
"Well... if all high gifts come from the gods at the time of the birth of the person that is to be gifted... did our men once contact the gods?"
Akhenemkhanen nodded silently.
"So... did the males hand the gift over to the females, through the gods?"
Again, the elder nodded.
"Why?"
"Why would you give someone some of your gaming gift?"
"...So they would be a challenge to play?"
"Yes. Now, apply that to what you are trying to figure out."
"The males... told the gods... to gift mainly females with dancing... because... ugh."
Akhenemkhanen smirked. "I believe you've got it. Yes, many centuries ago, we males surrendered the gods' dancing gifts to females, in hopes of getting more out of dancing for ourselves."
"That's an unsavory explanation."
"Aye, but unfortunately it is the truth."
This greatly disgusted the prince. "That's solely for the sake of better dusk dancing... didn't it affect the Eythereau dawn at all?"
"No, because we can still make up our national dawn competition troupe of all females, as the dusk competition is the only one that requires a male and a female. We can still compete against the other countries, and display just as much talent as we did before the dancing gift ran prominent, if not exclusively, among females."
"Why must our nations compete so much? Is it not enough to have the knowledge of great dancers, and not to boast it?"
"Ah, but you've forgotten that the knowledge that comes with a dancing gift is subconscious. That's what is weighed at these competitions, remember? Or are your studies not paying off?"
"I just wish that we would devote more time to exercising the mind, as well."
"Aye, this is a hard place to live with such an intelligence gift as the gods bestowed upon you. But dancing, as you'll come to understand, is our universal language. That is why you must learn it. Not only that, but you also are gifted in dancing. Why should you not enjoy learning about something that comes so easily to you?"
"But what good is learning all about it, if you forget everything the second you come out to the floor?"
"It is in your subconsciousness, as I've said."
"Yes, but everything happens too fast to give you any time to think. I don't see why all dancing can't be like that, centering on instinct rather than 'cement rules in your subconsciousness'."
"Some say real dancing does."
Atemu sighed.
"Tired, son?"
"Yes."
"Then go to sleep. You do remember that the masquerade dance offering is tomorrow, do you not?"
Actually, he had forgotten. How could he? The masquerade dance, one of the few dances he liked, was an offering of dancing power to the Eythereau gods, human power in return for the gods' blessings. It was part of the balance that all of Eythereau tried to keep constant at all times. The gods--Horakhti for dawn dancing, Zorc for dusk dancing, Exodia for strength, Obelisk for strategy, Osiris for knowledge, and Ra for wisdom--did as well.
"Yes. We choose costume slips at sunrise?"
"In the dawn dancing hall, yes."
The prince nodded. "Yes. Goodnight, Father."
Atemu stared at the slip he'd drawn out of a basket.
A dragon? WHAT is a dragon?
Katsuya, a nineteen-year-old guard-in-training, looked over Atemu's shoulder at the younger's piece of paper. "Dragon, eh?"
"Oh, hey Katsuya. Do you know what a dragon is?"
"No clue. Ask Hiroto or Ryuuji." He looked out through the packed dawn dancing hall, trying to locate his fellow guards-in-training. "YO, HIROTO! RYUUJI!"
A spike-head and a dice-boy soon came to stand next to Katsuya and Atemu.
"Yo, do either of you know what a dragon is?"
"Nope."
"Nuh-uh, sorry dude. Why?"
"'Temu here drew a dragon from the costume-slip basket."
"Well, he's gonna have trouble dressing up if he doesn't know what he's supposed to be."
"..."
"...Sorry..."
"Excuse me?" a light voice inquired from behind the group. The four turned around to identify the speaker.
"Ryou, wasup?"
"Uh... hi, Kat. Have any of you seen Amane or Dorobo? We're supposed to be setting up for the offering ritual..."
"Amane too? I thought it was you in charge of the dawn dancing and Dorobo with the dusk dancing, and your mom with the binding of the powers and whatnot."
"My mother... she passed away last night... We thought she would make it through another week but... you can't prevent death. So Amane has the power now."
Atemu was stunned. "Oh Ryou, I'm sorry."
Ryou sniffed, giving a weak smile. "It's okay. You didn't know. But I really must find those two..."
"Sorry, we haven't seen them."
"All right then, thanks..." He turned to leave.
"Wait, Ryou?"
"Hmm?"
"Do you know what a dragon is?"
"A dragon? Oh yes, dragons... they're mythical creatures that people on a planet called Earth believe in, or at least, some of the people believe in them. They're often depicted as large bird-like creatures, and often with scales all over their bodies. Our gods Osiris and Ra are dragons, by Earth's definition," he rattled off absentmindedly, toying with a bit of his long, blank hair.
"Oh, thanks Ryou!"
"No problem." The near-albino disappeared into the swarm in the dusk dancing hall, many Eythereauians now leaving to throw together their costumes in the alloted hour before the masquerade offering festivities began.
"Shit, we'd better get workin' on these things if we're gonna be in the ritual," Hiroto observed.
They parted, all back to their respective chambers.
So... like Osiris and Ra...
The prince looked through his wardrobe in the room he shared with his younger brother and two male cousins, trying to find something that appeared remotely draconic.
Fighting armor.
Commoner disguise.
Traveling cloak.
Sword.
Dressy special occasion clothes.
Wait... commoner disguise...?
He took out the garment and laid in on his bed, examining it carefully. Commoners, the un-gifted, wore clothes of dreamy sky-blue, like the robe he wore when he went into the village in disguise. The fabric was rough, nearly scaly, and tattered around the edges.
Maybe... a windy dragon? Do those exist?
He figured that if no one on Eythereau knew what they were anyway, it would go unnoticed if they didn't actually exist. Donning the robe, he eyed his reflection in a mirror next to the wardrobe.
Hair. Need to hide the hair. WHY did the gods see fit to curse me with this hair? It makes dressing for these masquerades a pain in the-
"Atemu?"
"Hmm? Who's there?"
"It's Shizuka. Can I come in?"
"Uh... I'm still getting dressed... and besides, don't you want to find out what I was afterwards, so it's more... mysterious? Don't women swoon for the whole 'man of mystery' thing?"
He heard her giggle. "Okay. Just remember to dance with a certain water princess, okay?"
"And who might this water princess be? Certainly the lovely young woman I'm engaged to wouldn't mask her pretty face?"
"She would for this. Just remember--water princess."
"I will, 'Zuka. I'll look for the most beautiful girl there."
"All right. I'll see you down there, then."
"'Kay, 'Zuka."
She left, her light footsteps clicking daintily down the hall.
Hair... still need to hide the hair.
He pulled the cloak's hood down low over his eyes, tied it down with a bit of silver rope from under his bed, and picked up and put on the chest part of his body armor. If dragons were supposed to have shiny scales, maybe that would work.
Mask.
A piece of blue fabric to match his robes draped over his face served as a mask, and Atemu was finished. By the sun's position outside his window, it had been nearly an hour since the slip-drawing. He headed down to the dawn dancing hall, where the dancing and ritual would begin.
What he didn't know was that within a few hours' time, he would have defied the will of his father, the will of the gods, and the will of destiny. Taking part in a certain dusk dancing ritual, and after doing so, he would never be the same.