DID I JUST UPDATE WITHIN THE MONTH? I JUST DID. YES. Holy shit. I literally opened the doc last night having no idea what I was going to write and ended up with this bad boy by the end of today. Talk about a miracle. Many thanks to Azusa Inoue, hitomi65, ElenaLionward07, Kaneyi Unomie, and Ern Estine 13624 for reviewing. But only five reviews, guys? Wahh :( you've all spoiled me by giving me 7-8 per chapter in the past!

A few notes: I know next to nothing about ballet, so please forgive me if I'm using terms incorrectly or whatnot. Feel free to correct me and tell me how to use them appropriately. Sorry for the brevity of the chapter, but hey, it's a faster update? :) Please review, I love to know what you guys think of every new chapter!

BREAK
Chapter 6

A certain green-haired dancer panted, grabbing a towel that was draped on a nearby chair to wipe the sweat that had accumulated on his body. He took off his glasses and wiped them off on the same towel for what must have been the 30th time that day; he hated how they got fogged up every time he practiced, but he refused to get contact lenses. After taking a swig from his oversized water bottle which was now unpleasantly warm, he walked back to the middle of the hardwood floor room and continued his routine.

He was performing bravura to an invisible audience, with silence as his music and the mirrored walls his stage. His boureé was quick and smooth, and if one wasn't looking carefully they might have thought he was being suspended on string, for the movements were so fluid. He transitioned effortlessly into a pas de chat, extending his arms out sideways and bending both his legs before going into a light leap, bringing his feet up and knees apart. The adagio tempo continued for a while as he danced a pas de deux alone. Normally one would have a partner for this part, but he had decided that he would simply practice alone as he clearly did not have someone to dance with at the moment. Jumping up, he performed a tour en l'air before landing lightly on the tips of his toes, going back into basic pointe. This continued for a while, and as he finished his solo, he found that his glasses had once again fogged up. Damned things. Maybe he should invest in some anti-fog glass, if there even were such a thing.

As he went to wipe the excess moisture from his glasses once more, he looked out the window and noticed that it was getting dark. Grrrowl. He hadn't eaten dinner yet, he suddenly remembered. It was a good thing that no one was around. However, it was then that he heard a muffled buzzing coming from inside his bag. Reaching in, he pulled out his phone and flipped it open. "Hello?"

"Shintarou. Are you done with your rehearsal for the day? Shall we meet at our appointed place?" A clipped, sharp tone asked from the other side. He grimaced. He had wanted to stay and run through it a few more times before heading out, but it was rather hard – no, impossible to refuse him…

Shifting the phone from one side to the other, he held it in place between his shoulder and ear. "Yes, I'll be there in an hour," he replied compliantly, rubbing his glasses with the damp cloth. When he finished and held his glasses up to the light to inspect his work, he noticed that the towel had instead made his glasses unpleasantly wet, with droplets streaked across the lens. Sighing, he pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers, gently massaging the area. He could feel a headache coming on.

"Good. I'll see you then." Click.

-x-

No matter how many times Kise went out with Saki, he wasn't sure he would ever get used to watching her eat. She always ate like she was starving, shoving everything into her mouth and eating way more than a normal girl usually ate. Of course, she always attributed it to her having tiny meals during the months of rehearsal and how she just worked it off afterwards anyway, but it was still a shocker to see.

Today was no different. The blond model wasn't sure what he was expecting (maybe something more… high-class?), but Saki had taken them to a local chain restaurant and ordered a large order of gyudon; she was currently inhaling the beef bowl at an alarming pace. Kise, on the other hand, had settled for a simple order of grilled salmon and miso. He felt like their meals should have been swapped…

"So, Ryouta," Saki said through a mouthful of food. "Are you gonna go to that party next week?" She had picked the bowl up in her left hand and her chopsticks in her right, and as soon as she was done talking she continued pushing more food into her mouth. Pieces of rice stuck to her cheek, which she periodically wiped off with her napkin.

Kise grinned confidently. "Of course I'm going, Saki-cchi!" he said. "Are you?" The agency that the two modeled for was hosting a grand gala promoting a new clothing line that had just opened; all models were expected to attend and it was supposed to be a high-profile ball, with celebrities and other high-profile people attending. Of course, the media was going to be there as well, detailing the whole event from start to finish.

She gulped. "Mhmm. I'm taking Takashi with me, even though he's told me at least ten times he doesn't want to go." She smiled devilishly. "He hates dressing up, but I'm gonna make sure he looks like a million dollars at that soiree," she said smugly.

For some reason, Kise felt a twinge of annoyance at the mention of her boyfriend's name. "Ah, I'm sure Takashi-cchi can't be that unwilling," he responded, playing along. "After all, he's got such a pretty girlfriend like Saki-cchi accompanying him!"

Natsukawa Takashi was a rising ballet dancer like Saki; they'd met overseas while she was studying at the Royal Ballet School in London. Apparently, according to Saki, they'd really "hit it off" since they were two of the few Japanese dancers in the school of mostly Caucasian students - they'd naturally been drawn to each other.

Takashi was about a year older than Saki, and the total opposite as well. He was quiet and kept mostly to himself, shy and demure. He talked in a low voice and rarely laughed, giving a small smile in bashful response most of the time. Despite his low-key personality though, he was tall and well-built – at least 178cm with a body to rival a basketball player's. Kise had only met him once, and he had to admit that although he didn't like him, there really was nothing to dislike about the guy.

"Thanks for the food!" Saki said gleefully as she placed her bowl down on the table and clapped her hands together. Kise was only halfway done with his food and suddenly felt quite effeminate, as though his masculinity had been stripped away by this model-ballerina sitting across the table from him. "Oh, by the way, did you wanna stop by the studio on the way back? Maybe Midorima will still be there!"

"Midorima-cchi?" Kise echoed. He didn't think he was going to run into another person from his past so soon after Kuroko, but he supposed it wouldn't be that bad just to catch up with his green-haired former crew member… right? "…Yeah, okay," he conceded. He wondered if he would regret it later. "After I finish dinner."

-x-

Aomine came back to his apartment to find a sullen looking Momoi standing outside his apartment, holding a bag of groceries. "Dai-chaaaaaaan!" The pink-haired girl cried, running up to her childhood friend. "You meanie! Where have you been? And after I came out of my way to get food for us to eat too," she pouted. She wore her signature green hoodie, draped over a white v-neck t-shirt matched with a pair of jean shorts that were tattered at the ends.

He scoffed. "If I ate anything you made, I'd wind up in the hospital," he grumbled, pulling his keys from his pocket and unlocking the door. It swung forward with a creak and Momoi entered without another word from the blue-haired dancer. "Tch," he grumbled, though he grudgingly let her in. "I already said I was busy, didn't I?"

"Yeah, but I know you were lying," Momoi said offhandedly. She slipped her shoes off at the door, stepping onto the cold tile floors. "Most of your time is spent watching TV at home anyway, or wandering the streets. I figured I'd have a pretty good chance of catching you here if I waited long enough." Damn it.

Shrugging his jacket off, he draped it over the nearest chair haphazardly. "Well, you found me," he said exasperatedly. "So can you shove off already? I already got food from the convenience store."

The pink-haired girl placed her shopping bags on the nearby dining table, staring down at her groceries for a bit. She played with the plastic for a bit, twirling the makeshift handles in her fingers. "Neh, Dai-chan," she started softly. "Do you think… you're going to dance anytime soon?"

"Ahhh?" Aomine grumbled in irritation. "Why the hell are you bringing that up now, Satsuki? I already told you I only dance at competitions. There's no point in practicing," he spat out the word like it was venom.

"But Dai-chan—"

"Because the only one who can beat me is me," he declared. His eyes had suddenly grown cold and lifeless during their short conversation, and Momoi instinctively drew back. "Everyone else is too unskilled, too weak to be challenging me. They're a thousand years too early to try."

Momoi grabbed her right arm with her left hand, sighing. "…Then why do you look so pained while saying that?" she said quietly.

Aomine looked away. He couldn't answer.