A Dangerous Shade of Peach - part 1

The first thing Nataria did as soon as she woke up, was to check last night’s episode. Her thumb moved in an anxious rhythm, scrolling through comments, tweets, and forum threads.

She was braced for impact. For the cold, cutting remarks about her audacity. Who does she think she is, talking to Amano Senri like that? #DesperateForScreenTime. She had rehearsed the phrases in her head, a grim litany born of long experience. Her confession to him: I treasure you, felt like tearing open her ribs and offering her still-beating heart. She’d been certain the world would see it and call it pathetic, a stain on his pristine image.

But the internet, for once, had other ideas.

The dominant conversation was not about inappropriate intimacy. It was about a stuffed bunny.

Mr. Bun.

A screenshot of gentle eyed Senri, instructing the well-loved stuffed toy to “take care of her” had gone supernova. The hashtag #ProtectiveBunny was trending. Someone with a frightening degree of dedication had identified the exact model. Links to resale sites were circulating, prices inflating in real time. Sold Out banners were popping up like digital weeds.

Nataria stared, baffled. A small, hysterical laugh bubbled in her throat. Of course. Senri Amano, who moved through the world with that unselfconscious gravity, had inadvertently sparked a run on plush toys. Because he’d called one ‘cute’, every girl needed to get it.

Nataria scrolled, a strange cocktail of relief and vertigo swirling in her stomach. The narrative wasn’t about a calculated ice queen manuplitaing and scheming. It was about… a girl with a childhood toy being gently teased by a golden-hearted idol. The analysis of her financial background: ‘modest, certainly not wealthy, a toy from a mid-range gorcery brand,’ should have stung her pride. Instead, it felt like a layer of old armor was being chipped away, revealing something more human beneath.

And then there was the “Nataria Hidomu: Unexpectedly Adorable” compilation video. Her loud, ungraceful laugh during the kid show dance. Her wide-eyed panic when Senri lifted her. The embarressed way she’d hidden Mr. Bun behind her. And many more. The comments were a sea of heart emojis and declarations:

@casualviewer_03: I never noticed her expressions before! She’s so funny!

@nostalgia_loop: That pout when Tanaka-san stole the last shrimp dumpling?

@editqueen_kai: Rooting for her now. She seems adorable.

Yamazaki’s text interrupted her scrolling:

Audition feedback is stellar. You got the role. This new public perception is a gift. Don’t mess it up.

Don’t mess it up.

The words echoed in the silent room. The path was clear: ride this wave of goodwill into the new role. Be the relatable, charming Nataria the people is starting to like. Let the Senri storyline fade into a sweet, ambiguous ‘what-if’ memory forever.

The thought alone was a physical ache, a cold hollow opening beneath her ribs.

In eight days, this house, this surreal bubble, would pop.

Senri Amano would return to a world of stadium tours and nationwide ad campaigns, and Nataria Hidomu would be a colleague he’d once shared a strangely intimate TV show with.

Unless.

The word was a spark in the dark. Unless she was selfish. Unless she reached for what she wanted with the same relentless focus she applied to every script, every role.

But claiming Senri wasn’t like claiming a role. It came with a cost, for him. The scrutiny, the pressure, the potential derailment of his pristine career. Her own career, finally on this new, hopeful trajectory, could crumble just as easily under the weight of a real, messy, public romance.

She put the phone down, the glow extinguished. In the quietness, she pressed Mr. Bun to her chest. “What do I do?” she whispered to the worn plush.

The bunny, unsurprisingly, had no answers.

°❀°❀°❀°❀

The swimsuit was new. Peach-colored, her favorite, with delicate frills along the sides. A tasteful two-piece that covered more than most of the swimwear she'd modeled in photoshoots.

So why did staring at her reflection in the bathroom mirror make her face turn the exact same shade as the fabric?

This was ridiculous. She'd done swimwear campaigns with a crew of twenty people adjusting lighting and camera angles, hands positioning her like a mannequin.

This should have been nothing.

Yet, the thought of him seeing her like this, evaluating the lines of her body, sent a jittery cascade of heat and cold through her veins. A cruel voice hissed comparisons: Momo’s confident, voluptuous curves would fill a bikini top like a blessing. Sachiko’s legs, endless and toned, were made for poolside glamour shots.

She took a deep, steadying breath, the air cool on her exposed midriff. “Enough,” she said aloud, her voice firm in the tiled room. The girl in the mirror lifted her chin, a flicker of the old, determined Natalia returning.

“You,” she stated, her voice firm in the quiet room, “are going to walk out there. You are going to be cool, and fun, and normal. You are not going to stare. You are not going to blush. You are going to remember that you are a professional, and this is a scene.”

It was a performance. Perhaps the most important one of her life. The role: A Girl Not Completely and Totally Undone by Love.

She took a deep, shuddering breath, smoothed a hand over the peach-colored fabric, and reached for the door.

°❀°❀°❀°❀

Everyone were already there when she stepped outside. The boys were in the pool planning what seemed like a race. Sachiko and Momo occupied lounge chairs at the pool's edge.

Sachiko looked adorable in a dark orange one-piece that exposed her back, her hair styled in two braids that made her look even younger than usual. Momo was dazzling as expected, her cream-colored bikini complementing her skin, huge sunglasses perched on her red hair like a crown.

Hibiki was positioning himself between Senri and Shou, his expression mock-serious as he explained the rules.

"On your marks," he said, "Get set…"

"Wait, what's the winner get?" Shou interrupted.

"Glory," Hibiki deadpanned.

"Bragging rights," Senri added.

"The admiration of beautiful girls," Shou declared dramatically, gesturing toward where Momo and Sachiko sat.

"I admire all of you equally," Momo called back sweetly. "Participation trophies for everyone."

Sachiko laughed, and Nataria found herself smiling as she walked over.

"Go!" Hibiki shouted.

They launched forward in a chaos of splashing water and flailing limbs. It became immediately apparent that this was less an actual competition and more an excuse for the boys to act ridiculous for the cameras.

Hibiki cut through the water with efficient strokes; he'd clearly had some very efficient swimming lessons. Shou was theatrical, all dramatic arm movements and exaggerated effort. And Senri...

Senri was trying, but was also clearly losing.

"Come on, Amano-san!" Momo cheered, cupping her hands around her mouth.

Sachiko’s voice carried across the pool deck: "Great effort, everyone!"

The race ended just as Nataria reached the chairs, Hibiki touched the wall first with a whoop of victory, Shou second with exaggerated disappointed face, and Senri last by a significant margin.

"Shimizu-san! YES!" Sachiko cheered, bouncing slightly in her seat with an enthusiasm that was definitely not subtle.

"Respectable showing," Momo added with a smile, her tone amused.

"Amano, buddy, I think you might need swimming lessons," Hibiki called out, smiling as he pushed wet hair back from his face.

“Or maybe you're just unnaturally good at swimming!"

Senri was laughing as he started to pull himself out of the pool, water streaming down his shoulders and chest, and then his eyes landed on her.

He went completely still.

Nataria watched his eyes widen, watched the way his gaze traveled over her in one quick, involuntary sweep before his cheeks flushed a deep, unmistakable red. She'd never seen him blush before. Senri was always so casually confident about everything, so matter-of-fact and genuine that she'd started to think he didn't even get embarrassed.

But he was blushing now. Because of her.

The realization sent a warm flutter through her chest that completely erased every single insecurity she'd been spiraling over in the bathroom. She gave him a shy smile, couldn't help it, really, and Senri's reaction was immediate.

He dove straight back into the water.

Just turned around and went under with a splash that caught Shou, who was in the process of climbing out.

"What the…Amano!" Shou sputtered.

But Senri stayed under for long enough that Nataria's smile shifted from pleased to concerned. She took a half-step toward the pool edge, heart suddenly racing for entirely different reasons, and then he surfaced.

His eyes found hers immediately.

The look on his face, heated and intense and full of something that made her breath catch, sent warmth flooding through her entire body. She felt her own face heat up in response, her heart doing something complicated and wonderful in her chest.

The moment stretched between them, the noise of the others fading into background static…

Until Shou retaliated by grabbing Senri's head and forcing it back under the water.

What followed was a chaotic wrestling match that devolved into the kind of playful water fight that was probably absolute gold for the cameras. Hibiki sat at the pool's edge, giving them both a look of long-suffering patience that would have been more convincing if Nataria didn't know for a fact that he was usually the instigator of these situations.

Senri's laugh rang out bright and unguarded, and Nataria felt something in her heart quiver in response.

This is dangerous, she thought, watching him. This feeling is so dangerous.

Director Aoyama materialized at the far end of the pool, a tabloide held loosely at her side. Her sharp eyes scanned the scene with the satisfaction of a collector surveying a perfect set of specimens. They were, Nataria realized, performing flawlessly without a script.

She gracefully took a seat on a lounger beside Momo, automatically arranging herself at the optimal angle, legs crossed just so. Momo and, after a beat, Sachiko mirrored the pose, a trio of stunning, sun-kissed stillness. Hibiki leaned back, letting the sun gleam off the water on his torso, a move that sent a furious blush across Sachiko’s face as she tried and failed not to stare.

Nataria’s lips twitched. Cute. She found herself genuinely rooting for them. In this high-stakes game of performance, someone deserved an uncomplicated win.

What she did not find cute, despite it being perfect audience entertainment, was the spectacle in the pool. Senri and Shou were now trying to dunk each other, their laughter a loud, harmonious duet.

The ridiculous ship had started after their last weekly challenge, an obstacle course where Senri and Shou had been paired up and dominated the competition. People had decided they "looked good together," Someone had made an edit with romantic music, close-ups of every exchanged look and smile, building an entire narrative from nothing.

ShouSen was trending. Fan fiction was being written. People were dreaming up scenarios where Senri left his solo career to join Shou's idol group. Never mind that they were from rival agencies.

It was projection. Pure fan wishful thinking. She could tell Senri wasn't any more friendly with Shou than he was with everyone else. And Shou definitely didn't care for Senri beyond professional courtesy and opportunistic camera time.

It still made her irrationally irritated.

"You're scowling." Momo's whisper was barely a movement of lips, her voice low enough that the microphones wouldn't catch it.

Nataria blinked, realizing she'd been glaring at Shou.

Momo was laughing, her shoulders shaking with silent amusement behind her sunglasses.

Nataria painted a perfect smile on her face. "I'm not scowling. The sun's in my eyes."

"Uh-huh." Momo's grin was wicked.

Her phone buzzed against her thigh. She grabbed it casually, keeping her expression neutral as she glanced at the screen.

Hibiki: Control your murder face.

She looked up to find Hibiki sitting in one of the chairs now, a towel draped over his head, but his silver eyes visible beneath it, glinting with amusement. That bastard was smirking at her.

She sent back the rudest emoji she could find.

Another message appeared immediately.

Hibiki: Give Amano your phone number. Or I will. You two are disgusting. Talk and sort this out already.

Nataria's face heated. She kept her eyes on her phone, very deliberately not looking toward the pool where Senri was now climbing out again, water sluicing down the defined lines of his torso as he walked to the cooler.

She watched him peripherally. Saw him grab a strawberry drink, her favorite, then pause. His hand hovered over it for a moment before he grabbed two more drinks, orange and lemon, for Momo and Sachiko.

Smart. Making it look casual instead of pointed.

Her heart did something complicated in her chest.

Nataria: Do NOT dare. He'll think I asked you to do it.

She hit send, then immediately typed another message. Attack was the best defense after all.

Nataria: Stop ogling Sachiko if you're not going to be a man and do something about it.

A shadow fell over her. Nataria looked up.

Senri stood there in just light aqua board shorts sitting low on his hips. Nataria forgot entirely how to form words.