Fruits Basket Fan Fiction ❯ Azalea ❯ Tiny Dancer ( Chapter 1 )

Azalea

By: Evil Bunny

ONESHOT

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"Rush right home now

Prepare, prevent, defend, define now

With no examples

You'll find your burdens more then ample."

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She spun. Strange things happen when you spin, all the happy juices get mixed up in your head. They ascend, rising like cream to the top. They topple and tumble dizzily giggling over sorrow, disappointment, failure and irrational fears. And as if by centrifugal force, a smile would paste itself over pretty lips, stretching and pulling to mold it there. It became a daily thing, like morning coffee; rise early, stretch, and spin.

Sometimes she would tumble to the floor, all skinned knees and abraised palms. But the happiness flowed, chasing away pain and doubt. Brushing it aside she would race downstairs to start the day, hardly feeling worthy of such surrounds that radiated love and joy. What more could she want? What could her being possibly need that hadn't been so readily handed to her?

But then there were times, moments in the middle of her day, where she was surrounded by people…and she couldn't spin. She couldn't stop, take a deep breath and twirl merrily to raise her spirits. It was then that they came, the demons.

You think you're needed here? They would ask in smooth silky fluid voices that sounded strangely familiar. They poked at her with their sharp raged little claws of spite, running deceptively gentle fanged bites down her spine.

`But they need me!' She would cry. `Look at all I have done, look at how they have changed because of me!'

You think you did this? You think no one else could have done this great deed? Foolish girl, playing with forces you couldn't begin to comprehend.

`No! I cook for them, I clean for them! Who else would take care of them if not for me?'

Come now little servant girl. They are adults, could they not fend for themselves?

`No. They need me, they love me. I know they do.'

Ah…but do they say that? Have they told you? Are you sure?

But mostly, before she could answer, before she could reverently assure the doubts; one of them would look at her. They would see some sign of the inner turbulence erupting inside her.

"Are you alright? You look flushed, could I get you some water?" He would ask, seemingly concerned for her well being.

And then it would begin. The waving hands, the demure bowing of `Thanks for your concern.' And the too bright goofy grin. And the adrenaline rush from almost getting caught thinking such thoughts was almost as good as the spinning.

Almost.

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Senseless late night blathering, nothing more. G'night.