Act 7: A Moment for Two

|POV: Koba Natsuki|

The morning of our scheduled run arrived before I knew it, and I hadn’t slept at all.

I lay there staring at the ceiling, wide awake, heart fluttering like I was a kid waiting for a field trip. Every time I closed my eyes, my mind jumped ahead to seeing her, to running together, to… everything.

The moment my clock flipped to 6:00 a.m., my sheets went flying.

I was out of bed and halfway across the room before my body fully caught up.

Sliding open my closet door, I was greeted by neat rows of milky-colored shelves stacked with designer pieces, a sleek console in the center displaying my jewelry, and a wall lined with shoes that barely ever saw daylight.

Today wasn’t about any of that.

I hummed under my breath as I bounced over to the section with my practice clothes. Loose sweatpants. Tanks. Long sleeves. Simple things.

What looks cute?

The thought of Yukina noticing my outfit sent a warm rush up my neck, my lips curling into a grin before I could stop myself.

Then I paused.

…She’s probably more of a practical type.

I pictured her in shorts and a dry-fit shirt, focused, effortless, completely unbothered. I glanced back at my clothes and pouted.

So much for always being comfortable.

After a moment, I settled on gray joggers, a soft pink tank, and a light jacket to throw over it. Simple enough. Cute enough. Running-approved, probably.

The word run echoed in my head, and my confidence wobbled just a little.

Okay, so maybe my stamina wasn’t amazing. But I could dance and perform for hours on stage. That had to count for something, right? I just had to survive long enough not to embarrass myself.

To finish things off, I grabbed my blue cap and tugged it on. Practical. Familiar. A little bit of a disguise.

Perfect.

I slipped out of my room and down the spiral staircase, the house still quiet and half-asleep. The kitchen gleamed with white marble and black accents, all silver and glass and things that looked far too expensive for morning thoughts.

I checked the time again.

Ten minutes before the staff would start moving around.

No breakfast today. I had somewhere much more important to be.

I tore a scrap of paper from a notepad and scribbled a quick note.

Eat without me. Heading out for an early morning rehearsal.

I set it on the long wooden dining table, far enough from the kitchen that it wouldn’t be missed.

Shoes came next. I slipped into my most comfortable pair, light enough that I barely felt them, then paused by the mirror near the entrance. I adjusted my bangs beneath my cap and gathered my hair into a low ponytail.

I tilted my head, inspecting myself.

“Yeah,” I nodded, satisfied. “Looks good.”

Careful not to make a sound, I eased open the carved wooden door and slipped outside.

The morning air was sharp, cool enough to jolt me fully awake. Just beyond the gate, the familiar black car waited.

“Good morning!” I greeted brightly.

Kurogane opened the door and bowed, ever composed.

“Where to?”

“Aozora Park.”

~~~

By the time we arrived, it was already 6:30 a.m. Kurogane parked nearby, close enough to keep an eye on me without hovering. I stepped out and headed toward the park entrance, where a few early risers were already beginning their day.

My heart fluttered.

She’d be here soon.

I tugged the brim of my cap lower, narrowing my view to the path ahead. Getting recognized here would only cause problems, and the last thing I wanted was to drag Yukina into that kind of attention.

I followed the stone walkway at an unhurried pace, eyes drifting between the ground and the open stretch ahead. No sign of her yet. I let out a quiet breath, my shoulders easing as I slowed.

Then a sharp bark cut through the morning air.

I looked up just in time to see a small white dog tugging eagerly at its leash, circling someone crouched beside it. The laughter that followed made my chest tighten before I even saw her.

Yukina.

She was smiling openly, unguarded, rubbing the dog’s head as it licked at her fingers. Her eyes curved into crescents as she laughed, the sound warm and effortless, like she’d forgotten the world existed beyond that moment.

I stopped without realizing it.

This was different. Lighter. A version of her I hadn’t seen before.

When she finally stood and apologized to the owner, still grinning, the woman waved her off and continued down the path. I dipped my head politely as they passed, but my attention never left Yukina. Even after the dog was gone, the softness lingered in her expression, like she hadn’t quite come back yet.

A small laugh slipped out of me before I could stop it.

“Do you like dogs that much?” I asked, lifting my cap just enough to meet her eyes.

She stiffened instantly.

“W-Were you watching?” she asked, voice going carefully neutral.

“If you mean the part where you looked ridiculously happy,” I said lightly, “then maybe.”

She turned away, rubbing the back of her neck. “I just… can’t help it around dogs.” After a beat, she cleared her throat. “Anyway. Should we start jogging? You can set the pace. I’ll follow.”

I smiled. “You know my stamina isn’t great.”

She shifted her weight, arms crossing with that familiar seriousness. “Then we’ll go as far as you can. I just want to see what you can do.”

“Is this a test?”

“Maybe,” she said. “If you want better endurance, you have to start somewhere.”

I laughed under my breath, nerves fluttering in my chest. I’d thought this would be a simple run, a chance to spend time together. But standing here, with her watching me like that, I realized I might’ve underestimated how much I wanted to do well.

What if I was too slow?

Maybe she wouldn’t want to run with me again.

I was starting to feel the uncertainty I experienced some time before I had met her. It was almost suffocating.

The moment she tapped my shoulder those feelings seemed to go away, “Nothing beats like starting now. I’ll be with you the whole way, so there’s no need to worry.”

Her reassurance quickly pulled me back, just like she did that day we first met. I flashed her a smile and replied enthusiastically, “Yeah!”

If only that enthusiasm carried over for the rest of the time we jogged. We were 10 minutes into the session before my legs started to feel heavy. Yukina explained that this park was about 1.5 miles in perimeter, and that she would run it twice to meet her endurance goal. Going at my pace we made it at least to 1mile, but after that, everything came crashing down.

She was kind enough to run next to me the whole time, but looking at her now it seemed like she hadn’t even broken a sweat.

I had performed in long and physically demanding shows before, but I guess because we have moments to breathe and rest, it hadn’t translated properly to running. While I did keep fit doing yoga and light cardio, this was just a bit different.

We had stopped near the amphitheater and drank water from the fountain before resting on the stone seats.

“Haaaaaah,” I tried to control my breathing.

“I’m honestly impressed. I guess the stamina of those who perform on stage are just on a different level,” her words easily escaped from her mouth, no sign of exhaustion as she continued, “How are you feeling after that?”

“I don’t feel terrible. But it looks like I’m going to have to work on it if I want to keep up with you.”

“You can rest if you’ve reached your limit. I think I’m going to finish up, I shouldn’t take too long,” she adjusted her ponytail, seemingly tightening the band behind her head.

“Sure, I can wait here,” I told her before she took off and I remained on the steps, watching her figure grow smaller as she rounded the curve of the park behind the amphitheater.

Watching her appear again from the other end, her pace didn’t change. Even from a distance, her form stayed consistent, steady and calculated strides.

Deep down I knew how different we were.

Onstage I learned where to pause. Where to breathe. When to let the moment hold me.

Yukina didn’t stop. She moved forward probably when it hurt, but slowing down wasn’t much of an option for her to consider.

I found myself leaning forward without realizing it, eyes following the line of her stride until the trees began to block my view of her.

“She makes it look so easy…” I breathed.

I thought back to our first meeting. How much of it was purely an accident, a coincidence that she appeared before me. The longer I thought about it, at some point Yukina had made it back to me, breathing in concentrated breaths before speaking.

“Alright. I think I’m good to–”

“Wait. Would you mind watching me rehearse, just like last time?”

Her eyebrows rose, “H-Here? But what about the other people?”

“I’ll try to keep it on the down low, but don’t count on it.” I winked at her, her face showing confusion. I made my way down to the amphitheater, Yukina following behind me as she took a seat front and center, the look of expectations in her eyes.

I better not disappoint, but I also don’t want her to see too much of the play.

I simply inhaled then exhaled, stabilizing myself.

Act I, scene II.

I closed my eyes and let the world sharpen into focus. Elena took shape easily, as she always did. A woman born into royalty. Sharp-tongued. Unyielding. Someone who had never been taught how to ask, only how to take. Someone willing to fracture tradition itself for the sake of love.

When I opened my eyes, I stepped into her.

I began to speak.

I didn’t allow the emotion to spill. I measured it. Each word was placed with intent, the rise and fall of my voice carefully restrained. Too much, and the truth would surface. Too little, and the meaning would vanish. I walked that narrow line, letting my movements do what my voice did not. A turn of the shoulder. A pause held just long enough. A hand lifting, then stopping short.

Everything was deliberate.

The moment I stopped, instinct had me bracing for applause.

Then I remembered where I was.

This wasn’t a stage. It wasn’t opening night. I was only rehearsing, and for Yukina alone.

Still, a soft sound reached my ears. A few people sitting along the stone steps had begun to clap, tentative at first. One of them was a small girl, eyes bright, hands coming together with unfiltered excitement.

I steadied my breathing and turned.

Yukina stood frozen, her expression unreadable, mouth slightly open.

A knot tightened in my chest.

Had I done bad?

I dipped my head, the brim of my cap still shadowing my face. If anyone recognized me, they didn’t say a word.

Stepping down from the stage, I walked toward her.

“Well?” I asked. “What did you think?”

She didn’t answer right away. It looked like she was waking up from somewhere else.

“I… I couldn’t tell if you were just practicing,” she said slowly, “or performing for real. That was… amazing.”

Heat rushed to my face at the word.

“I’m glad,” I said, forcing a lightness into my voice. “Then I’d better live up to it when the real show comes. I’m planning to give it everything.”

Yukina nodded, a small grin forming. “I’m really looking forward to it now.”

She glanced around as the small audience drifted away. “We should probably call it a day. I’m sure someone like you has a packed schedule.”

She wasn’t wrong. Interviews, fittings, rehearsals, expectations stacked neatly one after another.

“Just a few things,” I replied with a quiet laugh. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

We climbed the stone steps together. She walked me to the car where Kurogane was waiting, the two of them exchanging a friendly greeting. I’d noticed them talking on campus while I rehearsed. It was strange, but comforting, to see them get along.

“I’ll see you next time, Natsuki,” Yukina said, lifting a hand in farewell.

“Yeah,” I smiled, “you too, Yukina.”

The door closed.

And just like that, the moment was gone.

As the car pulled away, the quiet settled in, heavier than I expected. I leaned back against the seat, fingers curling in my lap.

Already, I missed her.