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Maybe in another life, Hiori could have been a footballer?
There had always been a certain draw to the idea of team sports. Supporting someone, drawing out their best potential, being the reason, the key, to their success. It was an alluring notion to ponder when trying to get to sleep at night.
But alas, it was a future not paved for her.
At the tender age of three years old, not even old enough to remember left from right, her parents had taken her to her first gymnastics lesson. Now, aged seventeen, the Olympics tryouts were looming overhead and she was signed up to audition. Yes, making the cut would mean being on a team, but at the end of the day gymnastics was a solitary sport. A lonely practice. Only you would decide your own future, and no one was there to help you if you slipped on the balance beam or tripped in the run-up to the vault.
Everything about gymnastics was unbearable. Her parents always forced her to train in the most uncomfortable leotard, coloured plain black of course, because ‘flashy colours distract from the form of the competitor’. Her hair always had to be trimmed to the perfect length, long enough to pull back into a high ponytail or bun but not so long that would obscure her vision when she ran — the style was so ugly to work with. She wished she could let her hair grow out properly, long enough to braid or curl. But much like with her outfits, long hair was ‘too distracting’ according to her parents.
It wasn’t just the style she hated though. No, the regiment of drills, the routines she was forced to learn, the horrible dieting, and her ban on ever making friends with her ‘rivals’ made every single waking moment a living nightmare. All she had to comfort herself with were her video games. Those would cradle her, console her when her parents wouldn’t, and she could let out every single destructive, sadistic urge inside the deepest depths of her heart. In a way, she started to view herself as a player piloting her body around as if it were a video game avatar. When she scored high points in a competition, it was like unlocking an achievement. When her coaches praised her, it was like levelling up. Life didn’t feel real. It was just a game she was being forced to play.
There really was no escape from this life of hers. Unless she went to the Olympics and won gold, her parents would divorce and give up on her. She couldn’t let that happen. For as much as she resented her parents, she needed to keep the semblance of their happy family alive, even if it was just a lie to save face. She would endure this horrible life of hers even if it meant coming home with bruised limbs, aching muscles and an exhausted mind.
If only things didn’t have to be this way.
-—-
It was Olympic team tryouts at the gymnasium. For the entire day, girls were lining up to perform their routines before a panel of judges, and there were going to be more than a few tears from those not talented enough to make the cut. Sometimes, girls messed up during their routines and they knew it, sobbing as their chance at the national team was ripped away from them. For others, they might have thought they had done well until the final announcements were made and they didn’t meet the steep expectations of those in charge.
Hiori herself didn’t really care what the outcome was going to be. She was more than likely going to be on the team anyway. Her routine had gone well and the judges had praised her in practically all aspects, especially on the balance beam. Already, netizens in gymnastics circles online had been stating to call her the ‘ice queen of the balance beam’ because she apparently gave off a calm, concentrated demeanour and never faltered.
Her parents were both in the stands, cheering and hollering as her score came up on the board. She was in first place. That was pretty much a guaranteed spot on the team. She feigned a smile as she hauled her tired body back to the stands to get a drink, wipe the sweat off her brow, and pull her tracksuit over herself to hide her plain, ugly leotard. Just as she sat down, the next girl taking the audition was called forwards.
“Itoshi Sae,” the announcer said over the intercom.
And like clockwork, her parents’ faces fell.
Because Itoshi Sae was the gymnast from Hiori’s age bracket who they both hated the most. It was a strange hatred, one steeped in admiration and jealousy. In the past, whenever Sae had entered the same competition as Hiori, she had always won, knocking Hiori into second place no matter how perfectly Hiori had performed. In a way, her parents viewed Sae as her biggest rival — a stupid notion considering the two of them had never interacted, and if anything Hiori admired how someone so calm and deadpan could nevertheless put on such a captivating performance.
“Yō-chan,” Hiori’s mother sighed, fiddling around with the essentials rucksack she always brought to competitions, “be a dear and go get us some water from the canteen.”
A light blue purse fell into Hiori’s hands. She had barely even sat down! But this wasn’t about getting her to work more. No, it was about making sure she didn’t watch Sae perform. The last time she had seen it, her parents had picked up on how captivated she had become, and so this time she was instead meant to head up the rows of bleachers, through the athletes’ side door and go to the refreshments lounge where a vending machine sat in the corner of a modest canteen. Over there, out of sight of the main gymnasium, she would never be able to be bewitched by the 'enemy'.
Without so much as a sigh, she did as she was told. It wasn’t like there was much else she could do. Pushing through the door out of the gymnasium, she entered a rather plain corridor, the walls littered with photographs of various athletes, male and female, who had trained in the building over the years. The high expectations their success had brought burned into her as she wandered past them, thumbing the purse.
It was disgusting.
The refreshments lounge was silent. Everyone must have still been watching the tryouts. And in the canteen, there was only one other person — a girl about Hiori's age, perhaps slightly younger. She had long, dark, seaweed-coloured hair, and an equally dark tracksuit. She hunched herself over one of the tables, occupying herself with a sketchbook and colouring pencils. In all honesty, Hiori had been hoping to spend some time alone, but this stranger seemed to be minding her own business. She didn’t look familiar, at least, and she definitely hadn’t performed for the judges. Entering further into the room, the girl didn’t even look up from whatever it was she was drawing, lost in her own world, not paying attention to anything else.
It was only on the way back from grabbing the bottles of water from the vending machines that Hiori spared a glance over this other girl’s shoulder. It was a moment of curiosity, nothing more. What was she drawing? A landscape? A portrait of one of the athletes? Manga?
Hiori was met with a sketch of a figure — a gymnast with cyan hair pulled back into a tight bun, long lashes framing her cheeks, caught in flight, mid-air on a balance beam…
That’s… Hiori’s eyes widened, that’s me!
Only, it wasn’t the her from today, nor was it from any other day that she had ever performed gymnastics. The ‘her’ in the drawing didn’t wear a plain, black leotard, but rather a sparkly, multi-toned blue one that had patterns of waves rolling across it. Silver rhinestones decorated her face and seashells adorned her hair as if encrusted to her figure. Her face was split between a side of delicate, blue makeup on her left half, and vibrant, indigo face paint on her right. Tying the entire look together was a short, flowing train of cyan silk attached to her hips, not long enough to trip her up if she were to actually perform in such an outfit, but not too short to be irrelevant to the design.
It was beautiful. And this girl had drawn such an image?
As if sensing the presence now looming behind her, the girl suddenly turned her head. For a moment, the two of them just stared at each other. A long, awkward silence descended upon the room.
And then, the girl… blushed? She immediately snapped her sketchbook shut and slammed her pencil down on the table. “You didn’t see that,” she hissed. Despite the animosity, her eyes were lovely, an enchanting shade of teal with gorgeous, long lashes. They seemed familiar, somehow.
Hiori immediately stepped back, shaking her head, clutching the water bottles and purse in her hands close to her chest. “Sorry,” she stammered. “I didn’t mean to disturb you.”
The girl just glared at her.
“I…” what was she meant to say? “Umm… your drawing is really pretty.” She paused. “Is it of me?”
A prickle of even deeper blush rose on the girl’s face. She turned away, hunching over even more. “Forget about it.”
“But it was so good,” Hiori placed the water bottles down on the table and pulled up a chair. Anything to spend a few more minutes away from her parents. “My name is Hiori Yō. I’m doing the gymnastics tryouts here,” she held out a polite hand.
The girl didn’t take it. She looked at it, then wrinkled her nose. “I’m Rin…” she muttered. “And that drawing… It was because of your hair.”
“My hair?”
“Yeah. It’s not a big deal. I got an idea from your hair so I drew it. That’s all there is to it, okay?”
A stifled chuckle breathed past Hiori’s lips. She raised a hand to her mouth. “Well, I’m still honoured,” she said. “Can I see the drawing again?”
“Why?”
“Because if it’s of me, I want to see it.”
Rin scowled. For a moment, it looked as though she might not open her sketchbook again. But then, after what appeared to be a few moments of deliberation, she slowly flicked to the right page and lay it flat on the table.
It really was beautiful. Although, it certainly wouldn’t be a practical performance piece for competitive gymnastics. The shells and rhinestones would be a nightmare to fix if they fell off, and for as practical as the train was, it would still be considered a health hazard by the strict regulations imposed by major event organisers. The only time someone would wear something like this would be for performance art. A showcase or a themed exhibition. Not a competition.
“It’s part of a set,” Rin then said. “One half… You’re the ocean.”
Hiori hummed, intrigued. What did ‘you’re the ocean’ even mean? “There’s more?”
With that, Rin flipped back through several pages of the book, passing by many other sketches of other outfits with one distinct through-line: they were designs for very elaborate leotard costumes. One looked like a tawny owl. One was a pure white base splattered with blood. One had a headpiece made to look like an overflowing candy jar. They all passed by too quickly to take in.
And then, the sketchbook once again flattened onto a new page. The drawing here was far more rendered than the mere sketch of Hiori’s ocean outfit. The leotard had a base of black, layered with white and black frills along the waist. Its sleeves were long and semi-transparent — they would probably be made from some kind of breathable mesh — with storm clouds woven into them here and there. Similarly to Hiori’s outfit, there was a silk train coming out from under the frills, only this one was a gradient from light grey at the edges to black at the join. And by far, the centrepiece was the head decoration: a rhinestone tassel head chain designed to look like raindrops falling over the head of the wearer.
Just like the other design, this one was astonishing to take in even though it was just a coloured sketch.
And it was by observing this particular drawing that everything suddenly made sense — the reason why Rin had designed Hiori's outfit so extravagantly. The model drawn wearing this black and white leotard was sitting in an aerial hoop.
These weren’t gymnastics outfits. They were circus outfits!
“It’s perfect,” Hiori whispered through a stunned breath.
Rin picked at the edge of the page. “It’s just a sketch. Nothing special.”
“But imagine if it were real,” Hiori was surprised at how much her heart was racing imagining the outfits on circus performers. On herself. “You said I’m the ocean?”
“Well I did draw you wearing the ocean outfit,” Rin grumbled. “Who else is it supposed to be?”
That was very true. “Just because my hair is blue?”
“Because your hair is blue and because the ocean dances on a balance beam at the start of the routine.”
Hiori frowned. “Routine?”
The tips of Rin’s ears flushed pink. “Forget it.”
But there was now something simmering in Hiori’s mind, a curiosity that she had no memory of ever feeling before. For the first time, being inside this stuffy, constricting canteen at the gymnasium wasn’t just a reminder of her own prison-like life. For the first time, there was something coaxing her intrigue, teasing her fascination.
“You drew me because I’m best on the balance beam, right?”
For a second, no response came, but then Rin gave a shallow nod. “You’re better than anyone else there except—“ she froze. Her words ceased. “You’re the right choice for the role,” she settled with, bitterness now lacing her voice.
It was obvious who the first choice was meant to be. There was only one person who consistently scored higher on the balance beam segment of competitions and had done so for years. “It’s alright,” Hiori smiled weakly, “you’re allowed to say Itoshi Sae is better. I know.”
The frown in Rin’s features darkened. She gripped the edges of her seat with such force that it was a miracle the smooth plastic didn’t shatter. “Nee-chan isn’t right for the ocean,” she then spat.
Nee-chan? Hiori blinked. Wait… don’t tell me…
“You’re Itoshi Sae’s sister?” Itoshi Sae even had a sister?!
Rin’s nose immediately wrinkled. She snapped her sketchbook shut, shoved her pencil into a black bag on the floor next to her. A rage-filled glower plastered itself into her features. “Fuck this,” she spat, standing with a start, “forget you ever saw me or I’ll break your neck.”
“What?” Hiori stood herself. “I’m really sorry, I—“
“The outfit was meant for you, not her.”
“Huh?”
Rin strode half way towards the canteen door. She stopped before making it out of the room, gripping her bag straps over her shoulder. “In the routine, I’m the storm. You’re the ocean. Not my sister. I know it’s not proper gymnastics. It’s stupid, useless circus tricks. Nee-chan wouldn’t even want to take your place in the routine if I let her…”
It was quite obvious that the two sisters didn’t get along at all. Something must have happened to create such bad blood, not that Hiori would push it.
Instead, she hugged herself gently, her gaze drifting to her feet. “I don’t think circus tricks are stupid or useless,” she said, if anything in a vain attempt to alleviate the tension tightening in the air. “I think they’re cool. Way cooler than boring, regular gymnastics for sure.”
She didn’t really know what saying this was meant to achieve, but to her surprise Rin ended up turning around. “What? You mean you actually like them?”
“Well, I’ve never tried to do anything like that, but watching circus performers is really amazing,” Hiori nodded. “The emotions. The performance. The way it isn’t just about perfect scores and optimised specs.”
“And it tells a story,” Rin added.
“Yeah, exactly!” a smile curled onto Hiori’s lips. “The storm and the ocean, right?” She gripped her arms, taking a few excited steps towards the other girl. “What’s their story?”
Again, Rin didn’t do or say anything at first. She was just watching, observing, analysing, perhaps judging. But after a little while, she slumped her shoulders and took a deep breath. Very slowly, she shuffled back to the table and pulled her sketchbook out of her bag again.
“The ocean is calm at first,” she said, laying the book out and flicking to the blue, watery leotard design. “It’s gentle and sweet, but craves something more. Then,” she flicked to the black and grey dress, “that’s when the storm starts. It comes down on an aerial hoop and lifts the ocean up into the sky, like how a storm whips up waves on the sea.” She traced her fingers over the hoop. “And because of the storm, the ocean gets to see a whole new world of destruction.”
The images came so clearly to Hiori’s mind it was as if she were already inside the circus ring herself, dressed in her exquisite outfit, poised on a balance beam — only, this balance beam was a deep shade of ocean blue, decorated with seaweed, shells and starfish. As a slow, mermaid-like song started to play, so too did her routine begin as a typical, if flashy, gymnastics performance. All eyes in the audience were on her. The heat of the stage lights beamed down, the sensation marrying with the smells of sugar, setting spray and sweat. She moved with the utmost elegance. Every jump, flip and trick would get her a near-perfect score at a gymnastics competition. It was graceful… but something was missing.
And that was what the storm was for.
The aerial artist descended from the rafters of the big top just as the music switched to a chilling rock anthem, a complete contrast to the serene sounds only moments ago. The face attached to the grungy outfit, performing an edgy, jaw-dropping show of aerial skills, was none other than Rin, her long, black hair now a wild back-comb streaked with white, lightning-like extensions. Her own part of the routine was vicious. Destructive. Exciting. And about half way through, she reached out a hand, swinging down towards the stage—
Hiori grabbed it. The balance beam disappeared from beneath her feet, replaced only with thin air. She was being lifted up and up, only her vice grip on Rin’s arm keeping her from falling. It was dangerous. It was insane. But she was free.
The thought of performing such a routine, flipping through the air, hanging by a single grip, dancing with only the heat of the circus tent around them, was more thrilling than anything the Olympic gymnastics team could offer. In a heartbeat, Hiori would trade her place representing Japan for a chance to perform something so breathtaking.
If only that could be her reality.
“Do you do gymnastics?” she blurted out.
Rin once again froze.
“As in,” Hiori stammered, “I just thought—“
“How did you know?” Rin stared at her.
Woah… Hiori couldn’t help but swallow a nervous gulp. Her eyes are so pretty… “I, umm, you said you were the storm, right? And I thought the design of the storm outfit would suit you, so...” She meant it as a genuine statement of fact and nothing more, but the way Rin's eyes widened was more than enough of a tell that the comment had sounded perhaps a bit too flirtatious. She inhaled a sharp breath. “I mean—“
“I do aerial gymnastics and acrobatics,” Rin said. “Trapeze, aerial silk, aerial hoop, even trampoline sometimes.”
Hiori was amazed. “You’re so cool.”
“Huh?”
“I wanna see you do trapeze,” Hiori said. This was the most excited she had ever been about anything remotely related to gymnastics. The freedom. The ability to do whatever she wanted. It was a desire flickering in her gut unlike anything she had ever experienced before. “Please, one day, even if it’s not today, will you show me—“
“Oh my god, there you are, Yō-chan!”
Hiori stiffened. She clapped her mouth shut. She turned frantically.
Her mother was striding into the canteen with the determination of a charging cow. “The final scores are in for Itoshi Sae,” she huffed, coming to a stop on the other side of the table, crossing her arms. “Get the drinks and come on,” she then took a brief look at Rin, then down at the sketchbook on the table, then back up at the girls. “Don’t get so distracted with silly pictures. This is your future on the line, you know?”
She then turned on her heel and made for the door again, muttering something under her breath about doing so much work and not being offered any respect in return.
So, the fantasy of perhaps one day becoming a beautiful circus performer was only that — a make-believe fairytale reserved for Hiori’s thoughts. Reality really was cruel.
Swiping up the drinks, she gave Rin an awkward half-smile. “Thank you for showing me your art,” she said, bowing her head. “I’m honoured to be an inspiration for you.”
Rin didn’t reply immediately. If anything, she looked a bit sad, her gaze drifting aimlessly and her frown forlorn. “I train at the Kamakura Gymnastics Centre,” she then mumbled. “Six until eight in the evening, five days a week…”
That was a long way from Kyoto. It wasn’t somewhere Hiori could just make a day trip to on her own.
“If there’s ever a competition there, I’ll come find you,” she said. She then started backing away towards the door, not because she wanted to leave but because if she didn’t soon, her mother would start screaming for her. “See you around, Rin.”
Rin just nodded, head lowered. “See you…”
Maybe they would see each other again? Perhaps the universe would be kind and give them a chance to find each other? There was still so much Hiori wanted to see. So much she wanted to ask. So much she wanted to understand. The adrenaline rush of performing inside a circus. The blaring music symbolic of an oceanic storm. The hand of a well-trained artist clutching her own as she was lifted away from the restrictive world of competitive gymnastics.
One thing was for certain, whether her parents liked it or not, she was going to look into local aerial gymnastics and acrobatics training the moment she got home.