Just This Once

Akio hurried down the corridor toward practice hall 3, guided by strains of instrumental music and the unmistakable high-ceiling acoustics of a gym.

As he drew closer, he started picking up words, sharp, colourful words, in German?

Very angry German, if his rusty high school lessons served him right.

A particularly vehement “Scheiße!” rang out, followed by a thump.

He pushed the door open and stepped inside the cavernous practice hall. The ceiling stretched at least thirty feet high, rigged with all manner of circus equipment. A trapeze bar hung about fifteen feet above a large safety net that spanned the centre of the room. Ropes, silks, and hoops were suspended here and there, though at the moment they were unused. Bright sunlight streamed in from high windows, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air.

And in that beam of light, climbing doggedly back up a rope ladder to the trapeze platform, was Amaya. Akio’s heart clenched. She looked a wreck.

Dressed in a black sports bra and form-fitting leggings, her skin gleamed with sweat. Strands of her snowy hair (usually wild and cloud-like) had escaped a sad-looking ponytail, sticking to her flushed cheeks.

Even from the ground he could see her limbs quivering with exertion as she ascended the ladder. Below her, on the net, lay a chalky imprint, like a cartoon crash outline of where she’d apparently impacted not long ago.

“Amaya!” Akio called up, stepping further in. The hall’s acoustics made his voice echo.

She startled at the sound, misplacing her foot on a rung.

For a terrifying second, her hand slipped on the rope. Akio’s heart leapt to his throat, but she quickly latched on with her other hand, gripping tightly. She caught herself on the ladder, hugging it as she looked down. Spotting him, her eyes went wide in disbelief and a hint of embarrassment.

“Akio?!” she shouted from her precarious position. “W-what are you doing here?” Despite her best effort to sound nonchalant, her heavy breathing rather undermined it.

“Making sure you don’t kill yourself in the dumbest way possible!” he shouted back, marching toward the base of the ladder. He held it steady instinctively, looking up.

She was about ten feet off the ground, not high, but high enough to hurt if she fell without the net positioned right.

“Come down, please,” he urged, trying to modulate his voice to calm rather than anger. “Carefully.”

Amaya frowned, still clinging to the ladder. “I’m fine! I was just…just practicing.” Even from below he could see the stubborn set of her jaw. “I’m almost there, I just need one more—”

In a flash, Akio saw where this was headed: she’d refuse to stop, push for “one more” just like Juliya said, until she literally collapsed. He knew Amaya’s stubborn face, and he also knew her scared face now. The mix of both twisted his heart.

Reasoning clearly wasn’t going to work. Logic would bounce right off her ego like a foam dart. Time for... trickery.

He raised an eyebrow and put on his best authoritative tone (a fair imitation of Shinji delivering code review feedback). “Amaya, if you don’t come down this instant, I’m climbing up there myself to drag you down.”

Her eyes widened, and then she let out a short laugh of genuine surprise. “You? Climb up here?” she panted, sweat dripping of her nose. “That I’d like to see. You hate heights.”

He tried not to show the full-body shiver that ran through him at the thought of ascending even three rungs. “Try me,” he bluffed. “I’m highly motivated right now. Don’t think I won’t conquer this ladder like Donkey Kong if it means getting you to take a break.”

That finally cracked her. Amaya’s lips quirked in a faint grin, and she rolled her eyes. “Okay, okay, message received.” Slowly, she began to descend, carefully placing one foot below the other. Akio kept a firm grip on the bottom of the ladder, heart pounding until her feet were within a few rungs of the ground.

When she was close enough, he gently put his hands on her waist to help her down the rest of the way. She was trembling with exhaustion; he could feel the fine shaking of her muscles under his fingers. The moment her feet hit the mat, her knees buckled a little, and Akio quickly steadied her, keeping his hands at her waist.

Up close, Amaya looked even worse for wear. Her face was flushed deep red, hair damp and tangled, and her eyes had a slightly glazed, feverish sheen. She was breathing hard, and not just from the climb, she was overheated. Akio pressed the back of his hand to her forehead without thinking. It was hot and clammy.

“You’re burning up,” he said, concern spiking in his voice. “Amaya, this is too much. You’re going to collapse.”

She bristled at that, pushing his hand away gently and standing up straighter. “I’m fine. Just… a little winded.” Her words were brave but her body betrayed her, she swayed on her feet, and Akio had to tighten his hold on her waist to keep her upright.

“Right. And I’m the Queen of England,” he retorted, unable to hide the mixture of fear and frustration. He softened his tone, seeing her face fall. “Look, I know why you’re doing this. But practicing till you drop isn’t going to magically erase your fear. Or make you perfect. It’s just going to get you hurt.”

Amaya’s eyes welled with frustrated tears. She angrily wiped them, leaving a faint streak of chalk on her cheek.

“I don’t need a lecture,” she snapped, though her voice wavered. “I need to nail this routine. I need to be ready. If I can just get the full sequence once without falling or stopping, then I’ll feel—” her breath hitched, and she didn’t finish the sentence. Instead, she clenched her fists. “I have to do this, Akio. I have to.”

Her voice had broken on his name, and in that crack, Akio heard the desperation, the self-imposed pressure, the lingering terror she was trying to smash through by brute force. His annoyance evaporated, replaced by a surge of empathy.

“I know,” he said softly. “I know you feel like you have to. But not like this.”

Carefully, he guided her to sit down on the edge of a blue safety mat. She sat, looking down at her hands, chest still rising and falling rapidly as if she couldn’t quite catch her breath.

Akio knelt in front of her, resting one hand on her knee. “Amaya, listen to your body. You skip breakfast, run on nerves, and train for hours… that’s a recipe for disaster. Trust me, pushing yourself to a breaking point is not going to solve anything.”

She let out a bitter huff. “You sound like Declan. He gave me the whole ‘body is your instrument’ speech. I didn’t want to hear it from him either.” Her tone wasn’t truly angry, just defeated. She reached for a towel lying nearby and wiped her face.

“I’m such an idiot. All this time I’ve been telling people to laugh at fear, to chase it down and fly higher, and now look at me… terrified of a stupid trapeze swing.” She sniffed and tossed the towel aside.

“I thought if I just trained and trained, I’d wear out the fear, you know? But it’s still there. Might even be worse now. Every time I climb up, my brain just… remembers that moment I slipped. I can’t shake it. I don’t know how.”

Akio shifted to sit beside her on the mat. He noticed a familiar, pink hoodie crumpled a few feet away and reached over to grab it. Without a word, he pulled it over her head. She blinked and then slid her arms through the sleeves. It was too large, but she snuggled into it gratefully.

She cast him a sideways glance. “Thanks. And sorry. You shouldn’t have had to come all the way here. I’m sure Naomi dragged you out—”

“She did, and I’m glad,” Akio cut in. “I was worried sick, to be honest. And clearly not for nothing.” He gestured at the net and trapeze above. “Seeing you do this to yourself… It scares me more than any trapeze scares you.”

Amaya looked at him, surprised. “Scares you?”

Akio nodded, swallowing. He realised how truly fragile she was, how mortal these daredevils could be. “I… don’t know what I’d do if you got hurt,” he admitted quietly. “The thought of you falling…” He couldn’t even finish the sentence. He rubbed a hand over his face. “So yes, it scares me. You scare me, when you push yourself like this.”

She was silent for a moment, absorbing his words. Then she leaned over, resting her head on his shoulder. It was a small gesture, but it made Akio’s breath hitch. “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I just… I didn’t want to be scared myself. If that makes sense.”

He gently tilted his head to rest against hers. “It does.”

For a minute they stayed like that, side by side on the mat, heads leaning together, gazing at the expanse of the training hall, the trapeze swaying slightly above, as if beckoning or taunting.

Akio realized he’d never actually been present to watch Amaya train seriously before (the domestic practice in their living room hardly counted). Seeing the aftermath now, the chalk, the sweat, the evidence of repeated failures marked in the net, gave him a new appreciation of how hard her craft was. It wasn’t all glitter and applause; it was pain, frustration, fear.

And still, she kept coming back.

She was amazing.

But right now, looking at her, slumped against him in silence, Akio’s awe was tangled with worry.

He knew she didn’t want another lecture, but sometimes, what you wanted and what you needed weren’t the same thing.

“No more overtraining. For today, at the very least.” He gave her a stern look. “Doctor’s orders: go home, hydrate, eat, rest. I think you’ve beaten yourself up enough for one day.”

Amaya exhaled a long breath, as if surrendering. “I hate that you’re right. I am… so exhausted I can barely see straight.” She leaned her head on his shoulder again. “I might have kept going until I literally collapsed.”

“I wasn’t going to allow that,” Akio murmured, resting his cheek against the top of her head briefly.

She smiled against his shoulder. “My knight in shining… polo shirt.”

He scoffed lightly. “It’s called business casual, thank you very much.”

They sat in companionable silence a moment longer, then Akio gently patted her knee. “Come on. Let’s get you home.”

Amaya groaned softly. “Ughhh. The thought of standing makes me want to cry. Can’t we just get one of the clowns to stuff me into a cannon and launch me back to the apartment?”

Akio chuckled. “Tempting. But I think I’ll manage.” He stood first, then offered both hands to her. She grasped them, and he pulled her up. Her legs wobbled, and she practically fell against him. Before she could slide fully to the floor, Akio shifted, gripped her by the waist, and without warning, slung her up and over his shoulder.

Amaya let out a squawk of surprise. “Akio! What the hell! Put me down! I’m sweaty and gross—”

“You are sweaty and gross,” he agreed. “But I’m not putting you down until I get you home. I don’t trust your legs right now.”

She pouted, “I can walk. I’m not a damsel in distress.”

“And yet, here you are, conveniently shoulder-slung,” he retorted, starting toward the door. She was light, but he was mindful of his steps, if he slipped, this would become comedic fast.

She let out an indignant huff, squirming half-heartedly. “You better not drop me.”

“I will, if you don’t stop wriggling,” he muttered, then added, “This reminds me of that piggyback you demanded I give you after the welcome party.”

Her eyebrow twitched. “I did not demand—”

“You climbed me like a koala.”

A pause.

“I think I deserve some points for carrying you through the city at midnight while you sang German drinking songs in my ear,” he added.

She laughed, the sound more vitality returning. “Oh god, did I really? I thought that was a weird dream.”

“It was very real,” he said wryly. “‘99 Luftballons’ will never sound the same to me.”

Amaya buried her face in his chest in embarrassment, which he found adorable. “I’m sorry,” she giggled. “I get a little… patriotic when I’m drunk.”

They reached the door which Akio opened while still holding her securely. “Anyways, I survived. And I got a free ab workout. So it’s only fair you let me carry you now, when you actually need it.”

“I do, huh? Need it, I mean.”

He nodded. “It’s okay to let someone carry you when you’re tired, Amaya. Literally and figuratively.”

She finally stopped wriggling. “Just this once, then,” she whispered, like it physically hurt her pride to admit it.

Akio smiled almost smugly, and headed out into the hallway. Juliya was conveniently nowhere in sight. They did pass Mio, the strongman and Juliya’s husband, who was upside down in a handstand against the corridor wall, casually scrolling on his phone. Mio did a double-take at the sight of them and nearly toppled over.

“Uh—everything okay?” the bald man called after them.

“Just fine,” Amaya called back, waving one hand breezily. “Prince Charming here is whisking me away.”

Akio rolled his eyes but didn’t break stride. Mio’s laughter echoed behind them as they exited the school.

Outside, the afternoon sun made Akio squint. Amaya, shut her eyes and let the warmth hit her face. With her makeup smudged and hair wild, she looked like a very tired, stray pixie. A pixie that he was determined to nurse back to full mischief-making health.