Yours to Hold (An OHSHC fanfic) [Completed]

Chapter Twenty

A/N: I wanted to say two things before you guys read this. First, the picture on the side if you make her a bit older is how I picture Miku. Secondly, you'll probably hate me for how I end this chapter~ Love you guys~
Edit: I forgot to mention- if you guys don't keep track of my annoucements to my followers, you probably missed this, for which I apologize. I edited the story so that instead of being involved in gymnastics she's involved in dance. The main reason being that I have a plotline in mind that requires this. Trust me, in the long run you'll like the change. 

At first I could only stare. The words seemed to echo in my mind. At the same time, I knew I must have misheard him. After-all, what I thought I’d heard wasn’t possible. It just wasn’t.

Compete again?

Me?

Go back to dancing?

“What?”

Honey’s smile didn’t falter, if anything he seemed amused by my disbelief.

“Nao-chan should compete again,” he repeated.

Mori nodded in agreement and I once again found myself at a loss for words. Something that didn’t normally happen. Honestly, I wasn’t someone who that happened to. I made sure of that. I always, always had a response. Even as that thought crossed my mind, I realized that I didn’t even have a sarcastic one.

He wanted me to compete again? Me, Morioka Nao, rejoin the dance world?

“It’d be a really, really good idea,” Honey added a minute later. “Nao-chan, you do love dancing.”

“I- no, I…” I managed to get out, taking a step back towards the door before stopping myself.

‘A Morioka never runs.’ I could almost hear Uncle’s voice from when he’d drilled those words into my head. It’d been the one statement that I’d never argued with him on. Just because I had no clue what to think- what to say- didn’t mean that I would turn my back on that ideal.

“I quit because I didn’t like it anymore,” I finished lamely. “I won’t go back.”

Uncle Harou and I had made a deal. It wouldn’t be right to ignore that because it was convenient.

“I don’t believe you,” Honey replied cheerily. “It’s not nice to lie.”

“Bu-”

“You love dancing.”

I once again found myself only able to stare at him. Honey’s tone left no room for argument. There was a sense of finality in it that I’d never imagined from him. Then again, as I’d noted earlier, Honey was stubborn. Perhaps it wasn’t that big of a stretch to imagine his childish cheerfulness being able to change so quickly into something that even I could tell wasn’t worth arguing with.

“It’s a competitive sport. I’d never be able to compete at the level I was,” I informed him, my words sounding just as lame to my own ears as my previous protest had.

I needed something stronger than the points I’d been trying to make.

“There’s a competition two months from now,” he replied immediately. “When I mentioned your name they were ecstatic. They’re holding a spot for you in case you want it.”

There wasn’t an argument that I could find beyond the one that was glaringly obvious to me, but neither one of them would have a clue about. It also happened to be the only one I could think of that might have been strong enough to stand up to Honey. Despite how he acted sometimes, I knew that he was smart. If there was a way to defeat my arguments, he’d see it. The one I wouldn’t mention, however, was the same one that had made me quit in the first place.