Act 3: Koba Natsuki

“Koba Natsuki?” The name hit me instantly. “The actress from the play we watched recently?” I asked, glancing over at Chiaki, who was hopping up and down to see over the sea of students.

She twisted back toward me, eyes wide and sparkling. “Yes!”

I gave her a knowing look. Part of me understood why everyone was freaking out, but the excitement buzzing through the crowd made it impossible not to get caught up in it.

Rising onto my toes, I tried to peek through the shifting wall of people. Then, just barely, a familiar golden shimmer entered my line of sight.

Long, wavy blonde hair drifted into view.

Koba Natsuki, hidden behind oversized sunglasses catching the glare, stepped forward with an effortless grace. A silver necklace glittered against her pale skin, and her white designer top dipped elegantly off her shoulders, revealing the smooth lines of her collarbone. Even in a crowd, she looked impossibly composed, as if the sunlight itself were a spotlight trained on her.

Her head turned slowly in my direction.

I couldn’t see her eyes through the tinted lenses, but the feeling of being seen held me in place.

Five seconds stretched far too long before I jerked my eyes away, heat rushing to my face.

Why did I do that?

It honestly felt like she was looking right at me.

I shook the thought away. Yeah right. As if.

The surrounding chatter began to dim. I blinked and realized the students were not just calming. They were parting.

Like an invisible signal had rippled through the crowd, the hoard split cleanly into two lines, creating a path straight down the center. A path meant for her.

And before I could fully understand what was happening, Koba Natsuki’s heels clicked rhythmically on the pavement, heading straight toward…me?

My breath snagged.

One moment she was at the far end of the makeshift corridor. The next she was standing right in front of me, close enough that I could see the light catching on the edges of her sunglasses.

I darted a panicked look to Chiaki, then Benio, then Tatsumi, searching for some kind of explanation or backup or anything. Their expressions only mirrored mine. Mouths slightly open, eyes wide, completely unsure what to do.

Around us, whispers rippled through the student body, but all of it felt distant.

My heart began pounding in my chest, and I was not even running. I never imagined that simply standing in front of someone famous could make my nerves tighten like this.

Koba Natsuki’s gaze swept over me and the people around me with a quiet intensity. I caught a glimpse of her bag, a soft pink leather purse decorated with tiny sparkling gems along each stitch. It looked like something that belonged on a luxury runway, not a crowded university walkway.

My throat tightened as I forced out a voice. “C… Could I help you?”

The actress offered a small, composed grin before speaking. “Do you happen to know where the track is? I have personal business to attend to later.” She lowered her sunglasses, revealing emerald eyes that locked onto my brown ones with surprising focus, as if she intended to memorize my answer.

I stiffened but managed to reply. “You just go straight down this path.” I pointed toward the direction I had come from. “You will see a building labeled Sports Medicine. Once you pass that, there are stairs that lead down to the track.” I pressed my lips together, hoping I sounded coherent enough to be helpful.

“I see. Thank you.” Such simple words tickled my ears as her voice cut through like butter. She turned with elegant ease, her steps measured and fluid as she made her way back through the parted crowd, her hair undulating behind her. Students rushed after her again, asking for signatures and photos, their excited voices growing louder until the noise slowly drifted away with the movement of the group.

When the crowd finally dispersed, my friends and I remained frozen in place, still trying to comprehend what had just happened.

I snapped back to reality first and glanced at my childhood friend, who was standing perfectly still with her mouth hanging open. “Chiaki.” I grabbed her shoulders. “Hey, Chiaki. Snap out of it.”

Her entire body jolted as if struck by electricity. She whipped her head toward me. “I cannot believe she was so close. She was like an angel descending from heaven. And then she…”

“SHE SPOKE TO YOU.” Benio practically screamed the words, her voice breaking into our conversation.

I turned to see her wide eyed, and noticed Tatsumi gently setting her down. “Do you know her, personally?” she demanded, her voice rising in pitch.

I held my hands up defensively. “No. I have only seen her perform once. I have never spoken to her before in my life.” I had forgotten for a moment that Benio was a devoted Koba Natsuki fan. Unlike Chiaki, who kept her admiration reserved, Benio had her entire dorm room plastered with posters the last time I visited, which reminded me a bit of my little sister.

The small thrower let her hands fall dramatically to her face and collapsed to the ground as though the weight of fate itself had crushed her. Tatsumi sighed, then grabbed her by the backpack and lifted her upright like she weighed nothing.

“Quit whining. We have to get to our next class,” he said calmly. “We will see you later for afternoon practice, Yukina.” He gave me a wave and even bowed politely toward Chiaki before guiding Benio away from the scene.

The tense feeling from earlier finally eased, and I glanced down at myself, realizing I was still in my workout clothes. I turned to Chiaki, lifting the collar of my shirt to my nose with a worried frown. “I hope I didn’t smell too bad…”

Chiaki laughed. “You’re such a worrywart. I bet Natsuki didn’t even breathe when she approached you.”

“Rude!”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding. You’re fine.” She waved as she started off toward her next class. “I’ll see you later.”

I watched her go, then exhaled. Guess I should head back to the Sports Medicine building.

As I started walking, a thought slipped in.

I wonder what business she has on the track.

~~~

I stayed in the gym a little longer than everyone else, finishing a few extra sets of the exercises the coaches assigned us. By the time I got through my last rounds of kettlebell swings and box jumps, my legs were burning with every movement. Maybe pushing myself this much wasn’t the smartest idea. As soon as I dropped the kettlebell to complete my final set, the throwers began trickling into the gym, the Irish Twins, Tatsumi and Benio making their way toward me out of habit.

“Didn’t know you’d still be in here,” Benio said, a towel draped over her shoulder.

“Just wanted to add a little more to what coach gave us,” I huffed, grabbing the forty-pound kettlebell and sliding it back onto the rack.

“Looks like someone’s taking strength training seriously,” Tatsumi grinned. “Say, how about you—”

I raised a hand before he could finish. “Not doing that.” I already knew where he was going with it.

He and Benio exchanged a laugh. “Well, we’ll catch you later then!” the short girl said, waving as I gathered my things.

I slung my bag over my shoulder and headed toward the exit closest to the Sports Medicine building. The two buildings were practically connected, which made slipping between them surprisingly convenient.

When I stepped outside, the pavement led straight to the stairs of the track stadium and stands. Someone was standing at the top of the stone steps, wearing a familiar blue cap and a dark zip-up jacket. Their hair was tucked into the collar, reflecting a particular golden glow, and with the sun dipping behind them, the orange light made them look almost like they were under a spotlight.

I froze. The image of the person I’d met at the park flashed across my mind. I took a hesitant step, then stopped. Walking right up to them to ask if we’d met before? That’d definitely come off like I was hitting on them.

I turned on my heel and headed in the opposite direction, though each step only made my curiosity gnaw harder. I barely got ten paces before I stopped, exhaled, and turned back around. Slowly, hesitantly, I approached the person on the steps.

My heart raced, similar to when Koba Natsuki approached me this morning, but this time it was different. This time I was the one closing the distance.

“U-Um…” My nerves twisted tight as I clenched the strap of my sling pack. “I don’t mean to sound weird, but… have I met you before?” It was all I could get out.

The figure shifted toward me. Her voice pricked at my memory like static. “Aw, did you forget about me already?” Her baseball cap still hid her eyes, but up close I caught the glint of golden hair peeking from beneath the collar of her jacket. And her voice, yes, I remembered it. “I talked to you this morning, didn’t I?” she added, playful.

Morning? I tried to recall the moment, but nothing about her clothes rang a bell. I didn’t even see her face, so how could I have talked to her?

“Maybe this’ll ring a bell.” From behind her back, she pulled out a black object. My water shield. My eyes widened.

“The girl from the park!”

She puffed her cheeks in irritation. “Yes, but no! You really don’t recognize me? Maybe the hat’s the problem.” She lifted the brim of her cap just slightly.

Green. Sharp, bright, unmistakable. Eyes that looked straight through me.

The same emerald eyes from this morning.

I took an involuntary step back, embarrassment flushing up my neck. “K-Koba Natsu—”

She shot forward and pressed a finger to my lips. “Shh! Not so loud!” she whispered anxiously. “Do you know how many people I had to dodge just to get here like this? Half the campus was wandering around earlier waiting for me to show up after I publicly asked for directions to get here.” She looked genuinely frazzled.

Her fingertip was icy cold against my lips, so cold that for a second it became the only thing I could process before she pulled away and scanned the area again.

She sighed when no one suspicious appeared.

And that’s when everything clicked.

The girl from the park… is Koba Natsuki.
A well-known actress, famous for playing terrifying villains and deadly action roles.
And I—of all people—had told her that her acting was stiff.

What the hell is wrong with me?!

The full horror hit me, and before I knew it I was dropping to my knees, forehead practically touching the pavement.

“I’m SO sorry! I can’t believe I said that to someone as talented as you! I must’ve been out of my mind that day!”

She flustered, scrambling for a response. A hand rested on my shoulder as she knelt beside me, gently lifting me upright.

“It’s okay! Really.” She met my eyes, earnest. “You don’t need to apologize. What you said back then was true, and I appreciated it.” She tapped her chest lightly. “No one in my world would’ve told me that. Hearing it from someone who didn’t know who I was… it made me happy.”

Her sincerity left me speechless. All I could do was stare, dumbfounded, as reality continued to collapse in on itself.

Koba stood first and offered me her hand. I hesitated, but she grabbed mine anyway and helped me up. “Please don’t treat me like ‘the Koba Natsuki.’ Right now, I’m just Koba Natsuki. And you are?”

I hadn’t thought she cared enough to ask, so when she did, it caught me off guard. Still, I answered.

“Yukina. Tsukishiro Yukina.”

Don’t treat her like “the Koba Natsuki,” she’d said earlier.

The thought lingered with me now. Being admired by strangers every day must be exhausting in its own way. She was around our age, after all. Maybe that was why she wanted something simpler.

I found myself rethinking the image I’d formed that morning. From a distance, she’d seemed untouchable, almost intimidating. Someone important. Someone demanding.

Standing here now, though, she felt… ordinary. Not in a disappointing way, but in a comforting one.

I leveled my expression and pushed away the nerves buzzing beneath my skin. I could do that much for her.

“So,” I said, “what exactly are you doing on our campus? It can’t just be to return my umbrella.”

She nodded. “I’m attending theatre classes here for a while. My recent roles have been difficult, so I was told to enroll unofficially and learn properly.” She scratched her cheek, looking a little self-conscious. “I recognized you immediately in the crowd. That’s why I approached you this morning.”

I blinked. “You couldn’t have picked a different time? Now my friends think I’m secretly connected to you.”

“Oh, but aren’t you?” she teased, giving a wink—at least, I was pretty sure she winked under that cap. “That reminds me. I have rehearsals tomorrow in the auditorium with the theatre students. If you have time, come watch. I’ll make it worth your while.”

I raised an eyebrow.

An invitation?

She wasn’t joking. Her expression was completely sincere. It felt rude to reject her outright.

“…I’ll think about it.”

It wasn’t even a real yes, but her whole face lit up anyway, her smile so bright it was contagious. I couldn’t help smiling back, the same warm rush rising in my chest that she clearly felt from hearing I might show up.

~~~

The next morning, after practice, I slipped out of the track quietly. I gathered my things, changed out of my workout clothes in the locker room, and began the walk across campus toward the auditorium.

The building sat at the far end of campus, a modern structure with a broad stone walkway leading up to its entrance. Its exterior was a blend of smooth concrete and tall glass panels that mirrored the surrounding trees and sky, giving it a sleek, almost theatrical presence even before you stepped inside. Wide steps rose to heavy double doors framed by banners from past productions, their edges slightly curled from sun and wind.

A long overhang stretched across the front, casting a cool strip of shade where students often lingered between classes. Soft ground lights lined the walkway, waiting for dusk to bring them to life. Trimmed hedges bordered the path, and a few benches sat nearby, worn in the way campus furniture always is. Even from outside, the building carried a quiet sense of anticipation, as if it was always holding its breath for the next performance to begin.

I stopped in front of the doors, pacing once or twice without meaning to. One hand found its way beneath my chin as I knit my eyebrows together. For some reason, the lines she had recited during the performance I watched weeks ago echoed faintly in my mind. A small part of me wanted to see how she rehearsed, what kind of work went into speaking words that powerful.

Words that had pushed me to start moving forward again.

I took a breath.

Then, slowly, I reached for the door and pulled it open.