Act 6: Unspoken Lines

I found my afternoon practice performance to be sluggish, and I wasn’t the only one who noticed. The rest of my teammates had thought they saw me melting at one of the machines before the workout even began, poking at me like some sort of creature.

That old woman.

I forced myself to focus, replaying the earlier exchange in my head. Her words felt less like concern and more like a warning, maybe even a jab meant to keep me away from Natsuki’s rehearsals. A distraction, she’d implied.

Distraction. A scoff passed through my lips. But I had remembered Natsuki’s words, and they were nothing but compliments, which set my mind at ease, but I wonder how true they were.

She didn’t seem to be the type of person to say those things without reason.

Still, my body moved through the workout on autopilot while my thoughts spiraled, each rep finished more out of habit than intent.

Maybe she was just being polite. Returning the favor from that day at the park.

My jaw tightened. Other than that one encounter, I couldn’t think of anything I’d done to deserve her attention, let alone being called her friend.

I slowed, then stopped altogether, staring at the floor as my brows knit together.

Someone like her had an image to maintain. Once her time here ended, it wouldn’t be surprising if we never crossed paths again.

I shook my head and forced myself to move again.

Unsurprisingly, I was the last one to finish. After racking the weights and wiping down the equipment, I packed my things and headed through the connecting door between the gym and the Sports Medicine building.

And like déjà vu, someone was waiting near the stone steps that led down to the track.

She stood there casually, dark blue blouse unbuttoned over a black undershirt, short jeans fitted just right. She twirled a strand of her black hair around her finger as she waited, looking more like a model than a student.

I made the mistake of meeting her eyes for half a second.

“Hey! Yukina—!” Chiaki shouted, irritation bleeding into her voice as she chased after me. “Don’t run away!”

“I’m not running! I’ve just got somewhere to be!” I lied, picking up my pace as I rounded the corner of the building, half-convinced I could shake her.

I didn’t get far.

Within seconds, Chiaki grabbed the strap of my bag, nearly breathless.

“Wha—how did you—?”

I stared at her, genuinely impressed. At this rate, she could probably sprint a clean hundred meters and make the track team.

“You still haven’t answered any of my questions from this morning,” she said, removing her grip from my bag as she settled them on her knees. “You didn’t think you could avoid me forever, did you?”

I shrugged my shoulders and nodded my head. Clearly, I was wrong.

I let out a long sigh and turned to her, finally giving in. She deserved to hear it, even if a part of me still felt guilty for keeping it to myself this past week.

“Let’s go to my place,” I said. “I’ll tell you everything there. I don’t want someone overhearing us and starting rumors.”

Being cautious felt like the right move, especially when the person involved was someone as well-known as Natsuki.

~~~

Once inside my apartment, I made green tea and set the cups on the small coffee table. Chiaki, instead of sitting down, immediately went for my closet.

“Sweaters… joggers… jackets…” she muttered, holding up a sleeve with clear disappointment. “Is this really all you own? And don’t say your track jersey counts.”

“...I’d appreciate it if you didn’t look through my closet,” I said flatly.

“When you finally have someone you like, you’re going to need a new wardrobe,” she teased, a sly grin spreading across her face. “And if that day does come, let me know. I wouldn’t mind playing dress-up with you.”

I rolled my eyes and pointed to the seat across from me. After a moment, she finally took the hint, sat down, and lifted the cup of green tea I’d prepared.

I told her everything then—how I’d first met Natsuki by chance at the park without realizing who she was, and how things had gradually led to brief conversations and an open invitation to watch her rehearsals.

Chiaki stared at me, eyes widening. “Wait. Wait. Wait,” she said, leaning forward. “She invited you to watch her rehearse?” She let out a short, nervous laugh. “Okay, now I really think you’re messing with me.”

“Believe me or don’t,” I said with a careless shrug. “But for the record, she invited me more than once.” I stretched the words just enough to make it obvious I was teasing.

Chiaki’s eyebrow twitched.

“…Go on.”

I admitted I’d only seen her a handful of times. Still, watching someone practice their craft up close, seeing how much thought and effort went into each moment, was an experience on its own. In those few times, she was busy with her coaches and we barely spoke, but on the occasions we did, it felt… refreshing.

I pulled the tickets she’d given me earlier that morning from my bag and slid one across the table. Chiaki’s eyes lit up like she’d just seen a shooting star.

“If you want to come,” I added casually, a small smile tugging at my lips, “she said I could bring a friend.”

Chiaki took the ticket from my hand and barely glanced at it before grinning. “You know I’m going.”

We laughed, the easy warmth of the moment settling in as it was just the two of us, no pressure, no noise.

She leaned back, stretching her legs out in front of her and lacing her hands behind her head. “Still,” she said thoughtfully, “being able to talk to Koba Natsuki like that must feel unreal. I wonder what put you on her radar in the first place.”

Then her eyes widened, a sudden spark of mischief flashing across her face as she leaned forward. “Wait. What if she has a crush on you?”

The words barely had time to land before we both burst out laughing.

A crush on me? The idea was ridiculous.

I took a sip of my green tea, surprised by how warm it still was after all that time, and let the thought dissolve along with the steam.

“She’s probably just curious. She has a fiancé anyway.”

I choked on my tea.

“Cough—what?” I barely managed as half the drink went the wrong way. Chiaki sighed, already grabbing napkins and wiping the green tea I’d splashed across the table.

“You didn’t know?”

I shook my head, still clearing my throat. “No.”

She was two years older, I guess around that age it was normal to be engaged. Probably.

Chiaki smirked. “I forgot you’re basically a hermit on top of being a track nerd.”

I let the jab slide as she continued, “Yuuto Sterling. His dad owns some big overseas brand that’s been gaining traction here. He was an athlete too, I think. Either way, the son’s a household name by now.”

I shook my head again, though the name “Sterling” did sound vaguely familiar.

“Your little sister would probably know,” Chiaki said, rising from her seat. “She actually keeps up with the news. Unlike you.”

She stretched, then added more lightly, “Thanks for telling me all that. I’m sure it’ll pass soon. So enjoy it while it lasts. Not everyone gets the attention of a star.”

“You’re not mad?” I asked, a little deflated by her calm reaction.

Chiaki glanced back at me. “Why would I be? I’m a fan, not obsessed. I know how to keep my distance.” She shrugged. “I don’t want to mix who she is onstage with who she might be in real life. That kind of thing just ruins expectations.”

Don’t meet your idols.

The phrase surfaced immediately. Benio meeting Natsuki would be a disaster—I couldn’t imagine her acting normal for even a second. Chiaki, on the other hand… maybe it was better this way.

“Whatever you say,” I said, smirking. “Just don’t come crying to me if you start feeling jealous.”

She laughed and flicked her hand at me in a crude gesture before heading out. The door shut behind her with a soft click.

~~~

I barely spoke with Natsuki over the next few days. That wasn’t by accident. I was the one keeping my distance.

Miss Velvet’s words had sunk deeper than I wanted to admit.

Still, whenever I truly had nothing else to do, I found myself drifting back to the auditorium. I sat in the far back rows, out of her direct line of sight, careful not to draw attention. Somewhere along the way, I started bringing snacks and sharing them with her bodyguards. They accepted them with quiet gratitude, never asking questions.

The more often I showed up, the more they talked. Small stories at first, then observations, all shared while we watched her rehearse.

“Miss Koba’s always been stoic around fans,” the bald guard, Kurogane, said softly. “Crowds, attention—she keeps a wall up. It’s impressive how she can stay unreadable right up until she steps into a role.”

I nodded, eyes fixed on the stage.

“The first time you came here,” he continued, “was the first time I saw that wall crack. Since then… she’s been different.” He paused, then added, “I think that might be because of you.”

I froze, a chip hovering near my mouth as I watched Natsuki move through her lines. “Is that so…” I murmured.

Onstage, she faltered.

It was brief—so brief I almost thought I imagined it. Her voice caught on the end of a line, her gaze drifting past the footlights, sweeping the darkened seats. Not searching exactly. Just… checking.

I sank lower into my chair.

A beat later, she recovered. The rhythm returned, her posture straightened, and the moment passed as if it had never happened.

Then a sudden chill crawled down my spine.

I searched the room, my gaze landing on the stage where Miss Velvet had tilted her head slightly, her sharp eyes locked onto me. Not curiosity.

Assessment.

Prey.

“I should go,” I said quietly. I pressed the open bag of chips into Kurogane’s arms and gathered my things. “You can keep those.”

The guards didn’t stop me. They only nodded as I slipped out.

I hurried through the lobby’s double doors and toward the exit, barely watching where I was going. I collided with someone solid, unmoving. The impact sent me stumbling back instead.

“S-Sorry!” I bowed quickly, once, twice, too many times.

“Don’t worry. That was my fault,” a deep, calm voice replied.

I looked up to see a crimson-haired man, a few years older than me. He wore a cream-colored shirt left open over a white one, neatly tucked into dark slacks. He looked composed, almost effortlessly so.

It wasn’t until I took in my surroundings that I realized why.

A crowd had formed behind him. Mostly women, with a few men mixed in, voices rising all at once.

“Over here, Yuuto!”
“I love you!”

Some of the comments made my ears burn. He ignored them with practiced ease as he turned his attention back to me.

“Are you alright?” He extended a hand.

The squeals grew louder.

What is even happening?

“I-I’m fine,” I said, not taking his hand. His gaze lingered on me, thoughtful.

“You must be Tsukishiro Yukina,” he said.

The sound of my name made me step back instinctively. My expression hardened as I looked him over. “And you are…?”

Before he could answer, the auditorium doors behind me burst open.

“Koba Natsuki!” someone screamed.

The noise doubled instantly.

“Yukina!”

Her voice cut through the chaos. In the next second, Natsuki was there, her hand closing around mine. She didn’t give me time to react before she pulled me forward.

“Wait—!”

She was already running.

I followed without thinking, her grip firm as she wove us through the crowd, past buildings, up a set of stairs I hadn’t even noticed. By the time we stopped, the noise was gone.

Only the two of us remained.

We stood on a rooftop garden, small but carefully tended. Patches of grass, planters filled with greenery, and tall railings lining the edge. It felt like a hidden park suspended above campus. I hadn’t known a place like this existed.

We both panted, though for me it felt no worse than the tail end of a warm-up jog. Natsuki leaned forward with her hands braced on her knees, trying to steady her breathing, the lingering warmth of her grip fading from my palm.

“We can… stay here,” she said between breaths. “Not a lot of people… know about this spot.

I drifted toward the railing and looked down. Far below, students clustered near the auditorium, restless figures moving like scattered ants, still buzzing with excitement.

“What about your rehearsal?” I asked as I turned back to her. Concern crept into my voice despite myself. I could already imagine what her coaches might say about her sudden disappearance.

She brought a hand to her chin, brows knitting together as she searched for an answer. There was something unexpectedly endearing about the way she looked when she wasn’t performing, and my chest gave a small, traitorous flutter. After a moment, she scratched the back of her head and let out a quiet laugh.

“I guess I can worry about that later.”

I shook my head, a similar smile slipping out before I could stop it.

“Then I hope you have a good reason for dragging me all the way up here.”

She stepped beside me and rested her hands against the fence, eyes fixed on the horizon. “The man you ran into just now,” she said carefully, “that was my fiancé. Yuuto Sterling.”

The name clicked immediately, dredging up Chiaki’s voice and half-remembered gossip. Strangely, I didn’t feel surprised.

“Miss Velvet told me at the last minute that he was coming to watch rehearsal,” Natsuki continued. There was hesitation in her tone, like she was choosing each word as she went. “I just didn’t expect the two of you to meet like that.”

“Was it bad that we did?” I asked.

“No. Not at all,” she replied quickly, then faltered. “It’s just… I thought I could introduce you properly. At a different time.”

The words sounded rehearsed, and for once, her delivery didn’t quite sell it. For someone so skilled onstage, she was a terrible liar.

I raised an eyebrow but didn’t press further.

Turning back toward the view, I let the cool air fill my lungs. Beyond the auditorium, the track was barely visible, just a thin curve of red peeking through the buildings.

We stood there in silence, the kind that stretched without becoming uncomfortable. Eventually, Natsuki spoke again, concern creeping back into her voice.

“Don’t you have afternoon practice?”

I shrugged it off. “I can miss a day. It’s not a big deal. I’ll just have to make it up later. Though I’m sure my coach will give me hell for it.”

Then, almost without thinking, I added, “Unless you want to help me make up for it tomorrow morning.”

Her attention sharpened instantly.

“Tomorrow’s the weekend,” I said. “I don’t usually run on campus. How about Aozora Park instead?”

Sunlight caught in her eyes, turning them bright as she looked at me, “I’ll be there!”