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“Let’s take a break.”
Aki let out a sigh and released Suzuki’s hand. She took a drink from her water bottle, then picked up her phone. As she checked a message from Fusako, a vibration started up inside the pocket of the shirt Suzuki had stripped off and left behind when he went to the restroom—his old-school cell phone buzzing away.
Suzuki had been strangely restless all day. No matter how hard they tried, their timing just wouldn’t line up. It was one of those days when his usual “I’m having fun, so you must be, too.” didn’t work on her. Sure, it was great that he was having fun, but when she had no idea what he was so excited about, it was hard for her to keep up. And when she’d asked, “Did something happen?” he’d brushed her off with a flat, “Nothing.”
And nothing almost always meant something.
She’d tried to look into his face, to read him, but their eyes slid past each other. Their steps crossed, but never quite met.
“Hey, Shinya. Your phone was ringing.”
He came back from the restroom looking annoyingly healthy for someone who hadn’t slept enough.
“Oh—hey, about today’s practice, Fusa-chan said—”
“Hello? Sugiki?”
Cutting her off, he checked the missed call and immediately dialed back.
“Yeah, I get it. It’s fine. Mm-hm. I’ll let her know. Oh—wait, um… hey—no, never mind. It’s nothing. Talk later.”
The way he started to say something and then stopped short—hesitant, awkward—felt completely unlike him.
“Sugiki says tonight’s class got canceled,” Suzuki said. “So we can start our practice an hour earlier.”
“Yeah, Fusa-chan already told me. But… Sugiki-sensei actually called you himself?”
All practice-related updates usually went through their group chat. Since Suzuki didn’t own a smartphone, Aki always passed things along to him. That was how it had always been. Yet today, Sugiki had gone out of his way to call Suzuki directly.
“You know, you should really switch to a smartphone already,” Aki said. “You’re not an old man.”
“Nah, too much hassle.”
“It’s a hassle for me.”
“Oh, right. You gotta check your passport,” Suzuki added casually. “We decided we’re entering the World Championship. You, me, Sugiki, and Fusako.”
“…What? The World Championship? Isn’t that in, like, two months? This is the first I’ve heard of it.”
“I decided yesterday. With Sugiki.”
Yesterday—Christmas wasn’t a practice day. Yet he’d either met Sugiki or at least spoken to him.
“You can’t just decide that on your own!”
“What, you don’t want to go?”
“No, I do. Of course I do. But why do you two always decide the important stuff without talking to me or Fusa-chan first?”
Suzuki looked faintly uncomfortable. He paused, as if trying to dodge the question—then let the silence stretch without answering. So indecisive.
It wasn’t like him. He’d always had that boyish simplicity—pure, if you wanted to put it nicely—but this wasn’t that. This felt different.
Something was definitely going on.
-
“Run, Aki!”
“Hey—wait! The light’s red!”
It was hard to believe this was the same man she’d had to chase down on their first day of practice, when he had strolled along unbothered about being late. Today, even though their practice time had been moved up and they had more than enough leeway, he was striding ahead as if something were driving him forward. Long, urgent steps—he’d even carried Aki’s bag, which was a first.
“You’re right on time.”
Sugiki greeted them in his usual calm tone, though both Suzuki and Aki were slightly out of breath.
The four of them warmed up together. As always, Aki practiced with Fusako, and before long it was time for the last train. In ballroom, the lead usually had more to work on, so the two men typically stayed behind for extra practice. Tonight, though, Suzuki was unusually insistent that they head out early, and before she quite realized it, Aki and Fusako were on their way home.
“…Hey,” Aki said after a moment. “Did something happen between those two? Watching them practice today, I don’t know how to put it—it just felt…”
Normally, the two of them clashed at least once every session, disrupting everyone else’s practice along with their own. But today, they were oddly in sync. All that raw energy that usually sent them rebounding off each other was still there—if anything, it was stronger—but instead of colliding, it fit together with an almost unsettling precision.
That “I’m having fun, so you must be, too.” that didn’t quite line up with Aki had found its match in Sugiki, feeding off him, the two of them accelerating together.
“I’ve never seen Sugiki-sensei like that,” Fusako said. “He looked so… happy.”
“Really? I mean, sure, today seemed easier for him—but Shinya aside, was Sugiki-sensei that different?”
“Yes. He was practically floating.” Fusako hesitated, searching for the word. “…like someone who’s in love.”
It was exactly what Aki herself had said to Suzuki a few weeks back. What she’d been sensing from Suzuki, Fusako also seemed to be picking up from Sugiki—from angles Aki herself couldn’t quite see.
“So… you’re thinking what I’m thinking?”
They exchanged a look. The moment had finally come to acknowledge the elephant in the room.
“Shinya… is in love, huh.”
Back when they were young enough to still be called kids, Aki herself had dated him. But in the past few years, he hadn’t had anyone serious. And given who the other person was, this time he was probably genuinely invested. As his best friend, Aki wanted to support him, no question.
But romance between dancers who also coached each other was, frankly, a breeding ground for trouble. Judging by their personalities alone, a calm, drama-free relationship seemed wildly unlikely. If things went south, Aki and Fusako would inevitably get caught in the fallout. And when you danced in pairs, your partner’s love life—especially when it stayed within the same small world—was never something you could treat as purely personal.
“…After everything Sugiki-sensei’s been through,” Fusako said quietly, “I kind of want to cheer him on.”
What had happened to Sugiki was well known in their world. Aki had heard the story in passing herself. A classic dancer love triangle—Sugiki’s partner, both on and off the floor, had left him for another dancer.
And now Suzuki—who barely understood emotional nuance at the best of times—was stepping straight into that territory.
“…I’m kind of worried about whether Shinya can really handle it.”
-
“Aki-chan! Congratulations on making the finals at your World Championship debut! That’s incredible!”
“Thanks, Fusa-chaaan! And congrats on second place!”
The World Championship they’d decided to enter just two months ago had come to a close. They high-fived as Fusako arrived at the pub they’d agreed to meet at.
“How’s Suzuki-sensei doing?”
“…Shinya? He’s a mess. Our flight’s tomorrow and I’m sure he’s going to be horribly hungover. Ugh. Such a pain.”
“I… maybe I shouldn’t have told him about Liana being Sugiki-sensei’s ex.”
“It’s fine. He was going to find out sooner or later anyway. Honestly, it’s better that he heard it from you first.”
Ever since they’d arrived in the UK, Suzuki’s emotional swings—intense at the best of times—had spiraled out of control in response to Sugiki’s every move. It was a miracle they’d managed to get through their own performance without incident.
Before the competition, he’d let jealousy get the better of him and provoked Giulio, the reigning ballroom champion. When Sugiki ended up finishing second yet again, he snapped, lashing out at Sugiki’s choreographer and designer. And then he saw Sugiki and Liana performing a flawless honor dance together. That was the final blow. He didn’t even stay to watch Fusako dance; he rushed out of the venue with a face that looked ready to crumple.
When Aki went to fetch him for a celebration—after all, they’d made the finals—she found him already deep into a destructive drinking binge, sitting glassy-eyed in a smoke-filled room. He’d brushed her off immediately.
“Being told at the last minute that we were switching partners for the honor dance really threw me,” Fusako said.
“The organizers have awful taste,” Aki snorted. “But you were wonderful, Fusa-chan. Everyone’s going on and on about Sugiki-sensei’s tragic love story, but honestly? You were the real victim today. You’re a saint, putting up with all that romantic drama—including Shinya. Come on, drink up. Tonight’s on me!”
Fusako smiled softly, then tipped back her pale ale in one smooth gulp.
“Alright, Aki-chan. Let’s dance.”
Toward the back of the pub, a local band of older guys was playing live—easygoing, unpretentious music. Competition staff and amateurs alike were moving however they pleased. When Fusako took Aki’s hand and stepped onto the floor, the small pub seemed to soften, filling with an easy, good-natured buzz.
-
Leaving behind Sugiki and Fusako, who still had a few things to take care of in the UK, Suzuki and Aki returned to Japan. As expected, Suzuki was badly hungover. Normally, he would have been snapping and grumbling. Instead, he was strangely quiet, his eyes bloodshot and rimmed red. It seemed that what Aki had feared had finally happened.
Even after they were back, Suzuki made no move to resume practice. Aki gave him a few days to himself, but when he continued to ignore her calls and messages, she finally showed up at his place.
“Shinya, I’ve realized something,” she said. “I think I can do more. We can do more, I just know it.”
They’d made the finals at their first World Championship. There was no way he hadn’t felt it too—the sense of how far they could still go. She didn’t want to stall here. No matter how much pain he was in, no matter how sad he felt. Especially at times like this, they had to dance. That was who they were.
“You could go as far as you want.”
Suddenly, he pulled her into a tight embrace, as if trying to hold back emotions that were on the verge of spilling over. The pain he carried flowed straight into her—deep, heavy sorrow. This was the first time she had ever felt him hurt this badly. The tears he was holding back spilled from Aki’s own eyes instead.
As he stood there, barely holding himself together, Aki wrapped her arms around him just as firmly. When standing on your own was too hard, a dance partner was the one who offered their hand in support. She was ready to take on his sorrow with him, and to keep dancing.
-
Working with their producer, Aki and Suzuki refreshed everything for the next competition—their costumes, their hairstyles.
The group chat with Sugiki and Fusako had been silent ever since the World Championship. After some hesitation, Aki sent a photo of her new, gel-set hairstyle directly to Fusako instead. A reply came almost immediately.
—You look amazing, Aki-chan! It really suits you!
Aki glanced sideways at Suzuki, who was beside her, having the hair at the nape of his neck trimmed, then typed back.
—Fusa-chan… how about we meet up?
-
“Aki-chan! Over here.”
Seeing Fusako’s familiar, gentle smile after such a long time, Aki felt a rush of relief. Near Sugiki Dance Studio, there was a café that was always closed when they passed by late at night, right before the last train. They had promised they’d come here someday, and now, finally, Aki ordered a latte and settled at a table on the terrace.
“How’s Suzuki-sensei doing?”
“He’s… managing, somehow. And Sugiki-sensei?”
Fusako took a slow bite of her cake, sipped her tea, and straightened her back.
“I told him off a little. He was moping around. So I told him—if things are awkward with Suzuki-sensei, why not ask another teacher for lessons?”
“…You’ve got nerves, Fusa-chan.”
To be honest, Aki had always thought that Sugiki and Fusako kept more emotional distance than she and Suzuki did—that theirs was a clearer teacher–student dynamic.
Yet with Suzuki, who felt more like a brother she could speak freely to, Aki could never bring herself to say the same things.
Sugiki’s hard-to-approach presence alone was enough to make most people hesitate to speak up to him. That Fusako could still say something so bold made Aki quietly rethink her impression of Fusako.
“But you know his answer will be a definite no. Remember? He threw a tantrum, insisting it had to be Suzuki-sensei to teach him Latin.”
Aki couldn’t yet picture Sugiki throwing a tantrum. Like the first signs of him falling in love, it probably would be subtle to anyone not close to him.
“…And Shinya, too. He stubbornly refuses to practice ballroom with me, using the Asia Cup as an excuse, but he hasn’t given up on it yet. Sometimes, when he thinks I’m not looking, he practices alone. But his hold… it’s clearly not sized for me. …Do you mind if I smoke?”
“Go ahead.”
She took a cigarette from the case and lit it. The smoke she exhaled with a sigh melted into the lingering chill of winter and disappeared.
“I think this is his first real heartbreak. I wonder if he’ll be able to get over it.”
“I don’t think he needs to. Sugiki-sensei will never give up on him. He just can’t. I’m sure of it.”
-
“Sugiki-sensei and Fusa-chan are the guests, right? So they are here.”
At the Asia Cup, where they had entered in the Latin division, Suzuki and Aki had been progressing smoothly—only the finals remained.
“I won’t ever see him again outside of competition.”
Suzuki normally welcomed anyone and let anyone leave. He had never said he wouldn’t meet a particular person. He had never shown that kind of attachment to anyone before. Yet now the words tumbled out of him—revealing the opposite of what he claimed: he wanted to see him so badly.
“When I saw him in Blackpool, it… it wasn’t just dancing. The crowd and the other dancers… they were blown away by it. I wanna move the audience like that.”
Aki smiled faintly and nodded. She knew this sorrow would not stop him. It would move him forward—move them forward
Despite their best efforts, they finished third, just as predicted. In this world, overturning rankings without playing politics was nearly impossible. And Suzuki—who had shouted curses at a world championship venue—was hopelessly unsuited for it. There was a reason they had focused on domestic competitions and secure prize money, even while earning the right to compete internationally. Yet, encouraged by Sugiki, they had stepped onto the world stage. Today was just the first step along that long road.
When the awards ceremony ended and the competitors stepped aside, a call came for Sugiki and Fusako’s demonstration.
Suzuki refused to look at the dance floor. Deep down, Aki knew he wanted to watch—but his heartbreak was still raw, and he couldn’t bring himself to see Sugiki dancing.
—It’s all right, Shinya. I’ll watch for you until the day you can face it yourself.
Aki’s gaze stayed on the dance floor, but Sugiki appeared alone—Fusako was not with him. He bowed slowly and solemnly to the audience, then walked straight toward them.
“Will you do me the honor?”
A hand extended toward Suzuki, who still hadn’t turned around. He clenched his mouth tight, struggling to keep his composure, but Aki could feel it—his emotions practically radiating, ready to explode even without a touch. Slowly, he turned and took Sugiki’s hand. On the way to the dance floor, he tossed aside his third-place medal in his usual reckless way. Yet when he faced the one he loved at the center of the floor, he radiated pure joy, as if he could soar.
Fusako quietly came to Aki’s side. Her familiar, gentle smile seemed to say, “See? I told you.”
The two of them danced the waltz with Sugiki leading—a beauty that almost made Aki envious. The comfort of surrendering to a lead, as important as taking control, was something he had likely only learned through this love. No matter how much he had grown physically, Aki had always seen him as a boy—and yet here, for the first time, he looked like a grown man in her eyes.
They shifted seamlessly between leading and following, dancing through the various ballroom and Latin routines with sheer delight. As the final piece began, the music for the Viennese Waltz filled the hall, warmed by the audience’s cheers.
“Let’s dance, Fusa-chan!”
Taking Fusako’s hand, Aki leapt onto the floor, and other dancers followed, forming a flowing ring that seemed to celebrate the love and joy of the pair at the center.