bookofgramarye (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
bookofgramarye) wrote2023-12-18 12:57 pm
bookofgramarye) wrote2023-12-18 12:57 pm
Entry tags:
FIC: To Dream Upon Paper and Silk
Fandom: Princess Tutu
Rating: G
Summary: While cleaning the practice rooms at the end of the day, Ahiru comes upon Rue preparing her pointe shoes for the week to come.
Notes: Set relatively early in canon, around the events of EP 7. Warning for minor injury towards the end of the story. Written for![[archiveofourown.org profile]](https://p.dreamwidth.org/b164c54b26e4/-/archiveofourown.org/favicon.ico)
kangoo for Yuletide 2023. Additional notes are at the end. (Also on AO3.)
To Dream Upon Paper and Silk
With a half-hearted swipe of the mop, Ahiru finished cleaning the last few feet of floorboards in the big practice room. Her braid flopped limply against her back as she straightened up, and she groaned at the ache in her neck and shoulders, which felt as sore as if she'd been spending three hours working on arm positions instead of pushing a wet, heavy mop-head across yards and yards of flooring. Much as she wanted to stop and rest, she didn't dare to stop for very long. It had taken twice as much time as she had expected it would to finish the main room, and she still had two of the three smaller practice rooms to go.
Clean-up duty on four whole rooms, just for yawning during the lesson! Then again, M. Cat hadn't been in a very good mood to start with that morning. His tail had been twitching all over the place, flicking back and forth like an irritated metronome, and nothing that the elementary class did seemed to meet with his approval.
Mlle. Pique, lift that arm higher on the turn! Again!
Mlle. Crocodilia, you are half a beat behind! Again!
Mlle. Lapine, did you not hear me say 'demi-plié' when I gave the combination? Again!
By the end of the lesson, every single student in the class was worn out, practically falling asleep on their feet -- but Ahiru had been the unlucky one who had not covered her mouth when she yawned, just as M. Cat. had clapped his paws together for silence.
She winced to herself, thinking about it. His furious yowl still echoed in her head. If you find my basic lessons so fatiguing, Mlle. Ahiru, then perhaps you need more exercise to build your strength! I will give you a special assignment to complete once classes are over for the day -- that is, unless you wish to MARRY ME!
Pique and Lillie had made sympathetic noises over her in the changing room afterwards, but they nonetheless had hurried away to the dormitories once afternoon classes were over, lest they bump into M. Cat in a matrimonial mood. Ahiru knew that they wouldn't have been able to help her with her punishment, but she would have been glad to have someone waiting for her when it was over. As it was, she would have to hurry if she wanted to be finished in time for dinner.
The water in her bucket was murky, and she didn't want to leave the practice room floors dirtier than when she'd started. She left her mop propped up against the wall and went in search of fresh water.
Her footsteps echoed on the hallway tile as she carefully carried the bucket down the corridor to the small door that led outside, where she could empty the old water into the moss-covered drain grate and collect clean, clear water from the old stone fountain just beside it. As she opened the door, letting in the cool afternoon air, she could hear faint sounds of music coming from somewhere on the floors above. A scraping of violins in a small group rehearsal, the silvery echoes of a trumpet working through a complicated solo -- all sorts of different bits of melody and harmony, coming together in a happy, productive buzz of creativity that floated away on the wind.
In spite of her sore hands and stiff arms, the music brought a smile to Ahiru's face. It was always such a delight to hear other people doing something that they enjoyed. But the silence that greeted her as she returned inside, bucket in hand, seemed to hollow out a space in her chest. At this time of day, the rehearsal rooms on this floor were all empty. It was so easy to feel lonely, hearing just the sound of her own feet treading slowly down the hall as she returned to reclaim her mop.
It wasn't until she set the bucket down and started to reach for her mop that she heard a noise that was very much not her own feet.
It was a scratching, scraping sound, light and quick. It stopped and started, with no real pattern that Ahiru could hear.
Ahiru's breath caught in her throat, and she grabbed the mop with both hands. Could it be mice? Rats? The practice rooms were usually so tidy, with no holes in the floors or the skirting, but the building was old, and there was always a chance that a mouse might get in. Should she go and fetch M. Cat? Then again, if the mice were gone by the time she got back, it might make him more angry with her, and then she would really have to flee before she found herself clutching a bridal bouquet instead of a soggy mop.
There was no choice: she would have to try to chase them out herself.
Balancing on her tiptoes in case she had to move quickly, Ahiru let go of the mop with one hand just long enough to fling open the practice room door -- only to see Rue sitting cross-legged, by herself, on the floor of the room. In one hand, she held a small penknife. In the other, was a brand-new pointe shoe.
(Ahiru managed to swallow a disastrous quack of surprise before it could escape her throat.)
Rue's head had gone up sharply at the sudden opening of the practice room door. When she caught sight of Ahiru, her eyes widened slightly, then narrowed with a look of cool disdain. Ahiru couldn't quite tell if it had more to do with her annoyance at being interrupted, or the fact Ahiru herself had been the one to interrupt her. After all, there was no doubt that Ahiru had interrupted her. By Rue's side were three other shoes: the untouched companion of the one in her hand, and a pair that clearly looked as if they had seen quite a lot of dancing already. A lightly coiled set of ribbons, and a small box with a pincushion and spools of thread, were also close beside her. Even though classes were long since over for the day, Rue was still in her dark red practice leotard, with her hair tied up and swept back from her face in proper practice style. All of the shoes around her were dyed the same dark red, perfectly matched to the shade of her leotard.
Rue's eyes travelled from Ahiru to the bucket, then to the mop, and back to Ahiru. 'If you need me to leave so that you can finish cleaning,' she said calmly, 'I can take this to the changing rooms.' A flick of the hand holding the knife, gesturing to the coil of ribbon and the untouched shoe at her side. 'I still have the other one to do.'
'N-no, please don't!' Ahiru blurted out. 'I didn't...I didn't mean to stare. It's just that...I've never really seen someone preparing a brand-new shoe before.' Her hands tightened on the mop handle, as if she could wring a few more drops of courage out of it. 'Is it...do you mind if I...watch you do it? Just for a minute!' she added hastily
Rue gazed at her, unblinking, and the look in her eyes seemed to change slightly. It wasn't a hostile sort of stare, or a challenging one, or even a particularly unfriendly one. There was no real emotion behind it at all. Somehow, that made Ahiru feel even more awkward.
After a moment, Rue lifted one shoulder in a thin shrug. 'Whatever you like,' she said, and bent her head over her shoe again.
Gingerly, Ahiru set the mop to one side, and crept into the room. She couldn't bring herself to sit down too close to Rue, so she settled into what she thought was an acceptable distance away, and tried to sit down as carefully and unobtrusively as possible.
Rue had been using the knife to make tiny cuts into the sole of her shoe, scraping away at the smooth leather. As she worked, she seemed to be pressing the box in certain spots, and Ahiru could hear faint crackles and crunches as the stiff paper-mache of the shoe's interior gave way beneath Rue's hands. Once Rue seemed satisfied with the state of the leather sole, she set the knife to one side and reached for the needles and thread. Ahiru watched, enthralled, as Rue took a pre-threaded needle and one of the unattached ribbons and began to insert a series of small whip stitches at the very end of one of the long lengths of satin.
'Those are such pretty ribbons,' Ahiru breathed.
Rue sniffed quietly. 'I hope they're better than my last pair,' she said, without looking up. 'When the ribbons fray before the shank gives out, that's a bad sign.'
Ahiru blinked. 'Is it?'
'Take a look for yourself.' Rue switched the ribbon into the hand holding the needle and thread, and picked up one of the old shoes at her side. 'I had to cut them back and re-sew the ends. The shoes are nearly dead, so it would not be worth wasting the thread to replace them entirely.' She held the shoe out to Ahiru, without really lifting her eyes from the work in her other hand.
Ahiru leaned forward and took the old pointe shoe in both hands. The shoe felt both fragile and flexible, stiff in some spots and soft in others. She turned it over, feeling the roughened stretches of fabric where the satin had worn away. Even though the staff and students (herself included, at this moment) always tried to keep the practice floors clean, much of the sole was darkened with dirt and oils from long hours of use.
Being in the first ballet class, Ahiru was a long, long way from receiving toe shoes of her own. M. Cat had given extremely strict instructions to the younger students that they were absolutely forbidden to try wearing even a more flexible demi-pointe shoe until they had proved that their legs and feet were strong enough to stand up to the rigor of pointework. Dancers who go on pointe too early are dancers who risk ruining their feet for life, he had said sternly. Even the senior girls will spend much of their time in flat shoes, to perfect their technique for long hours en pointe to come.
Ahiru knew this to be true. Senior girls like Rue had both morning and afternoon practices, with pointe work in addition to their advanced technique lessons. Those who were working on variations for different ballets had special sessions for their solo rehearsals. They also had partner classes with the more advanced boys, where they practiced lifts and turns. Several of her female classmates in the first class frequently lurked outside the practice spaces for those classes, in the hope of daydreaming themselves into a pas de deux with Mytho or Fakir.
A pas de deux with Mytho....
Ahiru turned Rue's well-worn shoe over in her hands, letting the ribbons slide between her fingers.
Princess Tutu never had to worry about her pointe shoes. They fitted her feet perfectly from the moment she transformed, with no need for the kind of hard work and care that Rue was putting into her own shoes. No matter how much Princess Tutu danced, the satin in her shoes would never wear down, the ribbons would never fray, the shank would never lose its strength. And even if her shoes could wear down, the next time she transformed the shoes would be new and perfect once again. It was all part of the magic, of course, but Ahiru had never thought about how that magic might affect more than just her dancing. Princess Tutu's clothing, from her headdress to her toe shoes, wasn't like a performance costume. It was almost as much a part of Ahiru's body as her own skin...or her own feathers, for that matter, in her other form. And for all that she appreciated the wonderful gift that enabled her to dance with all of her heart and soul, with none of the clumsiness that plagued her in her real life, she couldn't help but feel the tiniest twinge of envy as she watched Rue's small, clever hands begin to secure the ribbons to her new shoes of paper and silk.
Will I ever have this? She slipped one of the shoe's ribbons between her thumb and the side of her forefinger, and rubbed the edge of her thumb against the sleek satin. Will I ever have the chance to dance like Rue does? Not because I'm Princess Tutu...but because I'm good enough on my own?
She set the old shoe down just as Rue tied off the end of the thread on her new one. 'You must go through a lot of pointe shoes, Rue,' she said wistfully.
'Miss Rue.' The correction was automatic, but there was no real heat in it. 'And I have to. You can't dance if your shoes are too broken.' She paused, one eyebrow arching slightly as she looked up at Ahiru. 'I thought they would have explained this to you in the elementary classes by this point.'
'Ah, er, yes, well, I think they did!' Sheepishly, Ahiru ducked her head. 'It's...well, I might've, uh, forgotten a little bit.'
'Everyone does different things to their shoes,' Rue said. 'Depending on the roles you are to perform, you might need a different type of shoe entirely. Some variations, for instance, may demand a softer shoe, but others will require more strength in the shank. You would not want to be dancing Swan Lake and attempting the Black Swan's extensive number of fouettes on a shoe that could not support your foot, would you?'
The thought of an extensive number of any kind of step, let alone fouettes, made Ahiru's toes cramp in her normal shoes. 'I guess not,' she murmured.
The phantom ache in her feet reminded her that she still had a lot of work to do. With a soft sigh, she stretched out to set the old pointe shoe in front of Rue, and shifted her weight to tuck her legs under herself and prepare to stand. 'I should start cleaning the other room,' she said. 'If I see any of the other senior girls in the hall, I'll send them in here for now so you'll have enough time to finish before I come back in.'
For the first time, Rue looked genuinely confused. 'The other senior girls?' she echoed. 'Why would you expect to see any of them outside here?'
Ahiru blinked. 'Don't you usually all work on preparing your pointe shoes together?' She could have sworn that she'd seen Rue and the other seniors huddled together in the changing rooms, in those hectic moments between classes, talking freely amongst themselves as they put the finishing touches on new pairs of shoes. Amidst the unvarying sea of lighter blue worn by the junior classes, their darker leotards stood out boldly --
-- but now that Ahiru actually thought about it, she'd seen only four heads bent over their shoes, rather than five. And of the darker leotards, all of them had been a rich royal blue, instead of Rue's deep red.
Rue hadn't been one of that laughing, chatting group of senior girls. In fact, Ahiru couldn't recall ever seeing Rue spend much time with her dance classmates outside of the rehearsal rooms.
Every moment that Ahiru could remember, Rue had been with Mytho.
Something of Ahiru's train of thought must have been visible on her face, because in the space of what felt like only a blink, Rue's own expression had hardened. 'I had no plans to meet with the others to prepare my shoes,' she said stiffly. 'I prefer to do so by myself, without the risk of distra -- oh!'
As Rue had been speaking, she had still been fiddling with the needle and thread, trying to put the last two or three stitches into her ribbon. But the moment she started to say the word distraction, it seemed to take the shape of a cruel reminder, as her finger slipped and she ran the needle directly into the pad of her thumb.
'Oh, Rue!' Ahiru exclaimed, jumping to her feet. 'I'm so sorry! Are you hurt?' Judging by the way Rue had cried out and clutched at her hand, the wound was far more than just a superficial cut. She held out a hand, hoping to help Rue to her feet. 'Let me get you a bandage -- '
But Rue shrank away from Ahiru's outstretched hand. Pressing her own injured hand to her chest, she turned away, curling in on herself as her breath came in ragged gasps. 'Leave -- me -- ALONE!'
Had Ahiru not frozen in panic at the sound of Rue's angry voice, she automatically would have clapped her hands over her ears, because something in that voice seemed to resonate in her head like the gong of a bell.
(Somewhere outside, well beyond the school grounds, three ravens took flight in a whirl of black feathers, shrieking their outrage to the heavens as they vanished into the darkening twilight.)
'...I'm sorry,' Ahiru said helplessly. She backed away one step, then two. 'I'll...I'll go clean the other room now. You don't need to...I won't bother...but...but I think you should get a bandage for that....' She trailed off, lost for what else she could possibly say.
There was a brief silence, and then Rue lifted her head. 'I will be fine,' she said, in a muted voice. 'This is not the first time I have pricked my finger while sewing my shoes.' She had regained her composure, but did not take her hand away from her chest.
Seeing Rue's attempt at pretending everything was fine made a flash of answering stubbornness flare up in Ahiru's chest. 'You need a bandage,' she declared, suddenly firm in her resolve. 'M. Cat always says that cuts and blisters should be kept clean and dry, to avoid infections. There's a medicine box in the main practice room -- you stay here and I'll go get it for you.' Without waiting for Rue to protest, she turned on her heel and marched off to get it.
Once she was out in the hallway, the rush of her determination faded a little, leaving Ahiru feeling rather weak around the knees. She ignored her own feelings of faintness in the interest of getting back to Rue as soon as possible. With every step, she had to push down on the questions that were rising up within her. Why would Rue act so harshly over such a small injury? Was something wrong with her? Why had her...what had happened to her voice, to make her sound so terrible when she cried out to be left alone?
The medicine box was easy to find, tucked in the corner of the big practice room. It was always kept well stocked for dancers who needed to tend to injuries during practices or rehearsal, with a big bottle of iodine and wads of cotton wool, short strips of bandages, and long rolls of wrappings to tie up sprains. There was even a small stoppered jar, half-filled with some sort of clear alcohol, that held a sharp little needle meant for puncturing blisters safely. Rather than waste time trying to select the exact right things, Ahiru hefted the entire box (and oh, her arms and shoulders did not enjoy doing that) and wobbled back the way she had come.
Thankfully, the smaller practice room door was still partly open. With a bit of careful balancing, Ahiru shifted her weight to slip one foot and ankle into the gap, and nudged the door fully open. 'I've got the box, Rue, I'll be right -- there?'
Her voice swept up to a high pitch of confusion as the door opened onto a completely empty room.
Rue was nowhere to be seen. The sewing box and the pointe shoes, old and new, were also gone. The only thing left in the room was one of Rue's dark red ribbons, fallen in a tangle on the floor as if its owner had dropped it in her haste to leave.
Ahiru set the medicine box down, and went over to pick up the ribbon. It was one of the ones that Rue had been preparing to sew onto her new shoes: one end had been folded over and stitched securely to keep the ends from fraying, and the other end was still raw, waiting to be inserted into the shoe and sewn into place.
For a moment, Ahiru's brow furrowed. 'I should take this back to her,' she murmured. 'Even if she was embarrassed about hurting herself, she'll still need the ribbon at some point. But maybe...maybe I should just keep it, and give it back to her later, before our next classes.' A small, wavering smile crossed her face as an idea came to her. 'I can pretend that I just found it when I was cleaning the practice rooms, and I thought it might belong to her! That way, she won't have to say anything about it.' She nodded. 'Yes, that's what I'll do. It would be the nice thing to do, for Rue.'
That was what she said aloud, even though there was no one else there to see or hear her.
Her course of action decided, Ahiru wound the ribbon around one hand, preparing to slip it into her pocket for safekeeping. But just as she was about to put it away, she paused, as that wistful feeling came back to her. Maybe someday I'll have real ribbons to worry about, on real pointe shoes of my very own. Maybe I'll sit with Pique and Lillie as we all sew our ribbons on together.
She closed her hand around the ribbon and pressed it to her chest, where her pendant rested like a gentle weight against her heart. Or maybe...maybe I'll be sitting with Rue, too.
Notes
A sincere thank-you towickedtrue for her gracious read-through for all ballet-related aspects (and general story flow)!
Return to the Master List
Rating: G
Summary: While cleaning the practice rooms at the end of the day, Ahiru comes upon Rue preparing her pointe shoes for the week to come.
Notes: Set relatively early in canon, around the events of EP 7. Warning for minor injury towards the end of the story. Written for
To Dream Upon Paper and Silk
With a half-hearted swipe of the mop, Ahiru finished cleaning the last few feet of floorboards in the big practice room. Her braid flopped limply against her back as she straightened up, and she groaned at the ache in her neck and shoulders, which felt as sore as if she'd been spending three hours working on arm positions instead of pushing a wet, heavy mop-head across yards and yards of flooring. Much as she wanted to stop and rest, she didn't dare to stop for very long. It had taken twice as much time as she had expected it would to finish the main room, and she still had two of the three smaller practice rooms to go.
Clean-up duty on four whole rooms, just for yawning during the lesson! Then again, M. Cat hadn't been in a very good mood to start with that morning. His tail had been twitching all over the place, flicking back and forth like an irritated metronome, and nothing that the elementary class did seemed to meet with his approval.
Mlle. Pique, lift that arm higher on the turn! Again!
Mlle. Crocodilia, you are half a beat behind! Again!
Mlle. Lapine, did you not hear me say 'demi-plié' when I gave the combination? Again!
By the end of the lesson, every single student in the class was worn out, practically falling asleep on their feet -- but Ahiru had been the unlucky one who had not covered her mouth when she yawned, just as M. Cat. had clapped his paws together for silence.
She winced to herself, thinking about it. His furious yowl still echoed in her head. If you find my basic lessons so fatiguing, Mlle. Ahiru, then perhaps you need more exercise to build your strength! I will give you a special assignment to complete once classes are over for the day -- that is, unless you wish to MARRY ME!
Pique and Lillie had made sympathetic noises over her in the changing room afterwards, but they nonetheless had hurried away to the dormitories once afternoon classes were over, lest they bump into M. Cat in a matrimonial mood. Ahiru knew that they wouldn't have been able to help her with her punishment, but she would have been glad to have someone waiting for her when it was over. As it was, she would have to hurry if she wanted to be finished in time for dinner.
The water in her bucket was murky, and she didn't want to leave the practice room floors dirtier than when she'd started. She left her mop propped up against the wall and went in search of fresh water.
Her footsteps echoed on the hallway tile as she carefully carried the bucket down the corridor to the small door that led outside, where she could empty the old water into the moss-covered drain grate and collect clean, clear water from the old stone fountain just beside it. As she opened the door, letting in the cool afternoon air, she could hear faint sounds of music coming from somewhere on the floors above. A scraping of violins in a small group rehearsal, the silvery echoes of a trumpet working through a complicated solo -- all sorts of different bits of melody and harmony, coming together in a happy, productive buzz of creativity that floated away on the wind.
In spite of her sore hands and stiff arms, the music brought a smile to Ahiru's face. It was always such a delight to hear other people doing something that they enjoyed. But the silence that greeted her as she returned inside, bucket in hand, seemed to hollow out a space in her chest. At this time of day, the rehearsal rooms on this floor were all empty. It was so easy to feel lonely, hearing just the sound of her own feet treading slowly down the hall as she returned to reclaim her mop.
It wasn't until she set the bucket down and started to reach for her mop that she heard a noise that was very much not her own feet.
It was a scratching, scraping sound, light and quick. It stopped and started, with no real pattern that Ahiru could hear.
Ahiru's breath caught in her throat, and she grabbed the mop with both hands. Could it be mice? Rats? The practice rooms were usually so tidy, with no holes in the floors or the skirting, but the building was old, and there was always a chance that a mouse might get in. Should she go and fetch M. Cat? Then again, if the mice were gone by the time she got back, it might make him more angry with her, and then she would really have to flee before she found herself clutching a bridal bouquet instead of a soggy mop.
There was no choice: she would have to try to chase them out herself.
Balancing on her tiptoes in case she had to move quickly, Ahiru let go of the mop with one hand just long enough to fling open the practice room door -- only to see Rue sitting cross-legged, by herself, on the floor of the room. In one hand, she held a small penknife. In the other, was a brand-new pointe shoe.
(Ahiru managed to swallow a disastrous quack of surprise before it could escape her throat.)
Rue's head had gone up sharply at the sudden opening of the practice room door. When she caught sight of Ahiru, her eyes widened slightly, then narrowed with a look of cool disdain. Ahiru couldn't quite tell if it had more to do with her annoyance at being interrupted, or the fact Ahiru herself had been the one to interrupt her. After all, there was no doubt that Ahiru had interrupted her. By Rue's side were three other shoes: the untouched companion of the one in her hand, and a pair that clearly looked as if they had seen quite a lot of dancing already. A lightly coiled set of ribbons, and a small box with a pincushion and spools of thread, were also close beside her. Even though classes were long since over for the day, Rue was still in her dark red practice leotard, with her hair tied up and swept back from her face in proper practice style. All of the shoes around her were dyed the same dark red, perfectly matched to the shade of her leotard.
Rue's eyes travelled from Ahiru to the bucket, then to the mop, and back to Ahiru. 'If you need me to leave so that you can finish cleaning,' she said calmly, 'I can take this to the changing rooms.' A flick of the hand holding the knife, gesturing to the coil of ribbon and the untouched shoe at her side. 'I still have the other one to do.'
'N-no, please don't!' Ahiru blurted out. 'I didn't...I didn't mean to stare. It's just that...I've never really seen someone preparing a brand-new shoe before.' Her hands tightened on the mop handle, as if she could wring a few more drops of courage out of it. 'Is it...do you mind if I...watch you do it? Just for a minute!' she added hastily
Rue gazed at her, unblinking, and the look in her eyes seemed to change slightly. It wasn't a hostile sort of stare, or a challenging one, or even a particularly unfriendly one. There was no real emotion behind it at all. Somehow, that made Ahiru feel even more awkward.
After a moment, Rue lifted one shoulder in a thin shrug. 'Whatever you like,' she said, and bent her head over her shoe again.
Gingerly, Ahiru set the mop to one side, and crept into the room. She couldn't bring herself to sit down too close to Rue, so she settled into what she thought was an acceptable distance away, and tried to sit down as carefully and unobtrusively as possible.
Rue had been using the knife to make tiny cuts into the sole of her shoe, scraping away at the smooth leather. As she worked, she seemed to be pressing the box in certain spots, and Ahiru could hear faint crackles and crunches as the stiff paper-mache of the shoe's interior gave way beneath Rue's hands. Once Rue seemed satisfied with the state of the leather sole, she set the knife to one side and reached for the needles and thread. Ahiru watched, enthralled, as Rue took a pre-threaded needle and one of the unattached ribbons and began to insert a series of small whip stitches at the very end of one of the long lengths of satin.
'Those are such pretty ribbons,' Ahiru breathed.
Rue sniffed quietly. 'I hope they're better than my last pair,' she said, without looking up. 'When the ribbons fray before the shank gives out, that's a bad sign.'
Ahiru blinked. 'Is it?'
'Take a look for yourself.' Rue switched the ribbon into the hand holding the needle and thread, and picked up one of the old shoes at her side. 'I had to cut them back and re-sew the ends. The shoes are nearly dead, so it would not be worth wasting the thread to replace them entirely.' She held the shoe out to Ahiru, without really lifting her eyes from the work in her other hand.
Ahiru leaned forward and took the old pointe shoe in both hands. The shoe felt both fragile and flexible, stiff in some spots and soft in others. She turned it over, feeling the roughened stretches of fabric where the satin had worn away. Even though the staff and students (herself included, at this moment) always tried to keep the practice floors clean, much of the sole was darkened with dirt and oils from long hours of use.
Being in the first ballet class, Ahiru was a long, long way from receiving toe shoes of her own. M. Cat had given extremely strict instructions to the younger students that they were absolutely forbidden to try wearing even a more flexible demi-pointe shoe until they had proved that their legs and feet were strong enough to stand up to the rigor of pointework. Dancers who go on pointe too early are dancers who risk ruining their feet for life, he had said sternly. Even the senior girls will spend much of their time in flat shoes, to perfect their technique for long hours en pointe to come.
Ahiru knew this to be true. Senior girls like Rue had both morning and afternoon practices, with pointe work in addition to their advanced technique lessons. Those who were working on variations for different ballets had special sessions for their solo rehearsals. They also had partner classes with the more advanced boys, where they practiced lifts and turns. Several of her female classmates in the first class frequently lurked outside the practice spaces for those classes, in the hope of daydreaming themselves into a pas de deux with Mytho or Fakir.
A pas de deux with Mytho....
Ahiru turned Rue's well-worn shoe over in her hands, letting the ribbons slide between her fingers.
Princess Tutu never had to worry about her pointe shoes. They fitted her feet perfectly from the moment she transformed, with no need for the kind of hard work and care that Rue was putting into her own shoes. No matter how much Princess Tutu danced, the satin in her shoes would never wear down, the ribbons would never fray, the shank would never lose its strength. And even if her shoes could wear down, the next time she transformed the shoes would be new and perfect once again. It was all part of the magic, of course, but Ahiru had never thought about how that magic might affect more than just her dancing. Princess Tutu's clothing, from her headdress to her toe shoes, wasn't like a performance costume. It was almost as much a part of Ahiru's body as her own skin...or her own feathers, for that matter, in her other form. And for all that she appreciated the wonderful gift that enabled her to dance with all of her heart and soul, with none of the clumsiness that plagued her in her real life, she couldn't help but feel the tiniest twinge of envy as she watched Rue's small, clever hands begin to secure the ribbons to her new shoes of paper and silk.
Will I ever have this? She slipped one of the shoe's ribbons between her thumb and the side of her forefinger, and rubbed the edge of her thumb against the sleek satin. Will I ever have the chance to dance like Rue does? Not because I'm Princess Tutu...but because I'm good enough on my own?
She set the old shoe down just as Rue tied off the end of the thread on her new one. 'You must go through a lot of pointe shoes, Rue,' she said wistfully.
'Miss Rue.' The correction was automatic, but there was no real heat in it. 'And I have to. You can't dance if your shoes are too broken.' She paused, one eyebrow arching slightly as she looked up at Ahiru. 'I thought they would have explained this to you in the elementary classes by this point.'
'Ah, er, yes, well, I think they did!' Sheepishly, Ahiru ducked her head. 'It's...well, I might've, uh, forgotten a little bit.'
'Everyone does different things to their shoes,' Rue said. 'Depending on the roles you are to perform, you might need a different type of shoe entirely. Some variations, for instance, may demand a softer shoe, but others will require more strength in the shank. You would not want to be dancing Swan Lake and attempting the Black Swan's extensive number of fouettes on a shoe that could not support your foot, would you?'
The thought of an extensive number of any kind of step, let alone fouettes, made Ahiru's toes cramp in her normal shoes. 'I guess not,' she murmured.
The phantom ache in her feet reminded her that she still had a lot of work to do. With a soft sigh, she stretched out to set the old pointe shoe in front of Rue, and shifted her weight to tuck her legs under herself and prepare to stand. 'I should start cleaning the other room,' she said. 'If I see any of the other senior girls in the hall, I'll send them in here for now so you'll have enough time to finish before I come back in.'
For the first time, Rue looked genuinely confused. 'The other senior girls?' she echoed. 'Why would you expect to see any of them outside here?'
Ahiru blinked. 'Don't you usually all work on preparing your pointe shoes together?' She could have sworn that she'd seen Rue and the other seniors huddled together in the changing rooms, in those hectic moments between classes, talking freely amongst themselves as they put the finishing touches on new pairs of shoes. Amidst the unvarying sea of lighter blue worn by the junior classes, their darker leotards stood out boldly --
-- but now that Ahiru actually thought about it, she'd seen only four heads bent over their shoes, rather than five. And of the darker leotards, all of them had been a rich royal blue, instead of Rue's deep red.
Rue hadn't been one of that laughing, chatting group of senior girls. In fact, Ahiru couldn't recall ever seeing Rue spend much time with her dance classmates outside of the rehearsal rooms.
Every moment that Ahiru could remember, Rue had been with Mytho.
Something of Ahiru's train of thought must have been visible on her face, because in the space of what felt like only a blink, Rue's own expression had hardened. 'I had no plans to meet with the others to prepare my shoes,' she said stiffly. 'I prefer to do so by myself, without the risk of distra -- oh!'
As Rue had been speaking, she had still been fiddling with the needle and thread, trying to put the last two or three stitches into her ribbon. But the moment she started to say the word distraction, it seemed to take the shape of a cruel reminder, as her finger slipped and she ran the needle directly into the pad of her thumb.
'Oh, Rue!' Ahiru exclaimed, jumping to her feet. 'I'm so sorry! Are you hurt?' Judging by the way Rue had cried out and clutched at her hand, the wound was far more than just a superficial cut. She held out a hand, hoping to help Rue to her feet. 'Let me get you a bandage -- '
But Rue shrank away from Ahiru's outstretched hand. Pressing her own injured hand to her chest, she turned away, curling in on herself as her breath came in ragged gasps. 'Leave -- me -- ALONE!'
Had Ahiru not frozen in panic at the sound of Rue's angry voice, she automatically would have clapped her hands over her ears, because something in that voice seemed to resonate in her head like the gong of a bell.
(Somewhere outside, well beyond the school grounds, three ravens took flight in a whirl of black feathers, shrieking their outrage to the heavens as they vanished into the darkening twilight.)
'...I'm sorry,' Ahiru said helplessly. She backed away one step, then two. 'I'll...I'll go clean the other room now. You don't need to...I won't bother...but...but I think you should get a bandage for that....' She trailed off, lost for what else she could possibly say.
There was a brief silence, and then Rue lifted her head. 'I will be fine,' she said, in a muted voice. 'This is not the first time I have pricked my finger while sewing my shoes.' She had regained her composure, but did not take her hand away from her chest.
Seeing Rue's attempt at pretending everything was fine made a flash of answering stubbornness flare up in Ahiru's chest. 'You need a bandage,' she declared, suddenly firm in her resolve. 'M. Cat always says that cuts and blisters should be kept clean and dry, to avoid infections. There's a medicine box in the main practice room -- you stay here and I'll go get it for you.' Without waiting for Rue to protest, she turned on her heel and marched off to get it.
Once she was out in the hallway, the rush of her determination faded a little, leaving Ahiru feeling rather weak around the knees. She ignored her own feelings of faintness in the interest of getting back to Rue as soon as possible. With every step, she had to push down on the questions that were rising up within her. Why would Rue act so harshly over such a small injury? Was something wrong with her? Why had her...what had happened to her voice, to make her sound so terrible when she cried out to be left alone?
The medicine box was easy to find, tucked in the corner of the big practice room. It was always kept well stocked for dancers who needed to tend to injuries during practices or rehearsal, with a big bottle of iodine and wads of cotton wool, short strips of bandages, and long rolls of wrappings to tie up sprains. There was even a small stoppered jar, half-filled with some sort of clear alcohol, that held a sharp little needle meant for puncturing blisters safely. Rather than waste time trying to select the exact right things, Ahiru hefted the entire box (and oh, her arms and shoulders did not enjoy doing that) and wobbled back the way she had come.
Thankfully, the smaller practice room door was still partly open. With a bit of careful balancing, Ahiru shifted her weight to slip one foot and ankle into the gap, and nudged the door fully open. 'I've got the box, Rue, I'll be right -- there?'
Her voice swept up to a high pitch of confusion as the door opened onto a completely empty room.
Rue was nowhere to be seen. The sewing box and the pointe shoes, old and new, were also gone. The only thing left in the room was one of Rue's dark red ribbons, fallen in a tangle on the floor as if its owner had dropped it in her haste to leave.
Ahiru set the medicine box down, and went over to pick up the ribbon. It was one of the ones that Rue had been preparing to sew onto her new shoes: one end had been folded over and stitched securely to keep the ends from fraying, and the other end was still raw, waiting to be inserted into the shoe and sewn into place.
For a moment, Ahiru's brow furrowed. 'I should take this back to her,' she murmured. 'Even if she was embarrassed about hurting herself, she'll still need the ribbon at some point. But maybe...maybe I should just keep it, and give it back to her later, before our next classes.' A small, wavering smile crossed her face as an idea came to her. 'I can pretend that I just found it when I was cleaning the practice rooms, and I thought it might belong to her! That way, she won't have to say anything about it.' She nodded. 'Yes, that's what I'll do. It would be the nice thing to do, for Rue.'
That was what she said aloud, even though there was no one else there to see or hear her.
Her course of action decided, Ahiru wound the ribbon around one hand, preparing to slip it into her pocket for safekeeping. But just as she was about to put it away, she paused, as that wistful feeling came back to her. Maybe someday I'll have real ribbons to worry about, on real pointe shoes of my very own. Maybe I'll sit with Pique and Lillie as we all sew our ribbons on together.
She closed her hand around the ribbon and pressed it to her chest, where her pendant rested like a gentle weight against her heart. Or maybe...maybe I'll be sitting with Rue, too.
Notes
A sincere thank-you to
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