Act 10: Yukina's Resolve

I couldn’t remember how the show ended. The final bows and the applause slipped past me, overwritten by Natsuki’s presence on stage. She had filled every corner of my thoughts, leaving no room for anything else.

Outside the theater, Chiaki and Benio drifted along like sleepwalkers, eyes unfocused, as if the performance still had its hold on them. It didn’t last long. Soon they were talking over one another, animated and breathless, replaying their favorite scenes and lines. When they asked what I thought, my mind emptied completely.

They laughed it off and decided I was still processing it.

Maybe I was.

“I want you.”

The words refused to let go.

The way she said them. The way her gaze cut through the crowd and found mine without hesitation. It felt less like acting and more like something deliberate, as if I had been singled out without warning.

Had she meant it that way?

The line followed me into the night. I lay awake long after the city quieted, replaying it again and again until morning arrived unnoticed.

My alarm never had the chance to ring. I shut it off early, swung my legs from the bed, and splashed cold water on my face. I dressed without thinking, pulled on warm layers, and stepped outside.

I didn’t know where I was headed.

I only knew I couldn’t stay still.

The more I turned the words over in my head, the more they began to twist my focus. At practice, my body moved out of habit, but my mind lagged behind. Every stride felt heavy, like I was pushing through resistance I couldn’t see. I knew the rhythm. I knew the form. Still, nothing settled the way it should have.

If I wanted to stand beside her, if I wanted to be someone worthy of her choosing, then I had to become better.

So I worked harder.

The days began to pile up. I stayed longer after practice, added miles, and cut breaks short. I told myself it was discipline, that this was what growth demanded. Rest became something I allowed only when my body forced it, and even then I treated it like a delay rather than a necessity.

Discomfort meant progress.

Pushing meant commitment.

Anything else felt like falling behind.

Meals became an inconvenience. I skipped lunch with Chiaki more often than not, downing protein shakes instead because they were faster, cleaner, easier to justify. Running mattered more.

When I stopped by the auditorium during free periods, she wasn’t there anymore. Just students rehearsing, laughing, moving on. Her practice was finished.

And that’s when it hit me.

We’d never exchanged numbers.

The realization settled heavily in my chest. Maybe she had known from the start that this was temporary. That once the curtain fell, whatever existed between us would disappear with it. I hadn’t seen her since the play. She hadn’t come looking for me either…not that she needed to.

The thought tightened something inside me, sharpening my resolve even further.

My body protested, but I barely noticed. The warning signs blurred into background noise, drowned out by the steady thrum in my ears.

As long as I kept moving, I didn’t have to listen.

“2:10!” Coach called as I crossed the invisible finish line.

I folded forward, hands braced on my knees, breath tearing in and out of my chest harder than it should have. Sweat slid down my temples, dripping onto the track below.

“Damn, Tsukishiro,” he said, impressed. “Keep that up and you’ll top your heat. You might even take down that rival of yours.”

The words barely registered.

It wasn’t enough.

Not if I wanted to be at the top..

I straightened despite the protest in my legs, forcing my spine upright. My vision swam, but I wiped the sweat from my face and met his gaze.

“One more,” I said.

He stared at me like I’d said something unthinkable. “Listen, kid,” he said carefully, “this is the third time this week. Running like this is only going to grind your body down—”

“I don’t care,” I cut in. My voice surprised even me with how steady it sounded. “I need it to be enough.”

I could feel the looks then…hesitant, uneasy. The kind people give when they’re no longer sure they recognize you. I ignored them and stepped back onto the track, lowering myself into position.

By the time I finished the lap, my legs were shaking and my lungs burned, but beneath it all was something close to satisfaction. If I kept this up, I could get there.

I had to.

There was no other option.

All of this would mean something in the end.

That afternoon, I stayed long after practice ended, adding set after set until my movements lost their shape and my muscles refused to cooperate. The pain was sharp, insistent, but pain was proof. Proof that I was doing something right.

“Hey, Yukina.”

Benio approached as I stepped out of the thigh machine, her brow furrowed, concern written plain across her face. “Don’t you think you’re pushing a little too hard lately?”

I wiped the sweat from my chin, breath still uneven. “If I slow down now,” I said quietly, “then I’ll lose.”

“I’m fine.” I shook her off too quickly, nearly losing my balance as I straightened. “Nationals are a week away. I have to be ready. I have to be.”

Benio’s hand caught my shoulder again, firmer this time. I could feel the tension in her grip. “Yukina, look at you. This isn’t getting stronger—you’re tearing yourself apart.”

I tried to pull away, but my legs refused to cooperate. The ground felt unsteady, like the floor was tilting beneath my feet.

“I need this,” I said, my voice rising despite myself. My fingers curled into fists at my sides, nails biting into my palms. “If I don’t do well at Nationals, then how am I supposed to—how can I—”

The words tangled on my tongue.

The edges of my vision dimmed, the world narrowing into a tight, ringing tunnel. My heartbeat thundered in my ears, too loud, too fast. I reached out blindly, my body swaying—

Then the lights went out.

~~~

My body felt weightless, as if I were drifting somewhere far beneath the surface. My eyes were open, but there was nothing to see, only a vast, soundless dark that pressed in from all sides. The sensation settled deep in my chest, familiar and unwelcome. No matter how much I changed my routine, my habits, the way I pushed myself, it never truly left.

Regret settled in my chest, familiar and dull. Not the sharp kind that still stings, but the kind that comes from losing so often you stop reacting the way you used to.

The worst part wasn’t the loss itself.
It was the people who stayed.

The way they smiled anyway. The way they told me it was okay. That I’d done my best. That next time would be different.

If I kept failing, wasn’t I betraying that belief?

What was I even running toward anymore?

Faces surfaced in the dark. My parents. My sister. Smiling the way they used to when I crossed the line knowing I’d won. I missed that version of myself.

“One loss, ten losses. None of that erases what you’ve built…”

But what if I never stop losing?

“Fear is something you have to face yourself. Even if your first step is small…”

My chest tightened.

“What you want is still there. And you’re still allowed to reach for it…”

What I want…

The words lingered, wrapping around me like fragile warmth. Slowly, the darkness began to crack, thin seams of light splitting it apart until it could no longer hold me.

My eyes fluttered open.

Brightness stung, forcing me to blink a few times before the world settled. A white ceiling hovered above me, broken only by fluorescent panels. The air smelled clean and sharp, unfamiliar.

The sheets beneath my fingers were stiff, tucked too neatly around my body. When I shifted, a dull ache pulsed through my limbs, followed by a sharp pinch at my arm. I glanced down to see a thin tube taped to my skin.

A hospital room.

The realization sank in.

I groaned softly and pushed myself upright, my head throbbing as the room tilted, then steadied. That was when I noticed I wasn’t alone.

Two figures sat nearby, their faces drawn tight with worry against the stark white walls.

Chiaki and… Natsuki?

My vision was still fuzzy when a sudden weight pressed into me. Before I could even register what was happening, warm arms wrapped tightly around my shoulders. I sucked in a sharp breath, my body protesting at the movement, but the blonde didn’t loosen her hold.

She didn’t say a word.
She just clung to me, like letting go wasn’t an option.

“Thank god you’re awake,” Chiaki breathed, the relief in her voice cracking through as she exhaled hard. “Do you have any idea how long you’ve been out?”

I shook my head weakly.

“It’s already ten in the evening,” she said, rubbing her face. “You were unconscious almost the entire day.” Her eyes flicked over me, sharp and searching. “How are you feeling?”

I turned my gaze toward the sheets. “Just… sore. And my head hurts a little.”

“A little?” Her voice tightened. “Benio told me everything. You’ve been running yourself into the ground days before Nationals.” She stepped closer, arms crossed now, worry etched deep between her brows. “You know better than anyone what happens when you ignore your limits, Yukina. If something’s wrong, you don’t get to shoulder it alone.”

I met her eyes for a brief moment before looking away again, guilt settling heavy in my chest. “I’ll tell you later,” I murmured. “Just… not right now.”

I tilted my head slightly toward Natsuki.

She still hadn’t moved.

Her grip around me remained firm but gentle, as if she was afraid I might disappear again if she loosened it. I could feel her breathing against my shoulder, steady now, but her fingers trembled just enough to give her away.

Chiaki let out another long sigh. “You should thank her, you know. If she hadn’t passed by when she did, who knows how long it would’ve taken to get you to a hospital.”

“Natsuki did?”

Her arms tightened around me in response, just a little too much. A sharp twinge ran through my side, but I swallowed it down. Now didn't feel like the moment to say anything.

Chiaki stood from her chair, gathering her things. “I also called your family. They’re worried sick, so make sure you call them and let them know you’re okay.” She paused near the door. “The doctor will check on you in the morning. For now, just rest.”

She hesitated, then added more quietly, “And take it easy.”

The door clicked shut behind her.

The room fell into a soft, fragile silence.

It was just Natsuki and I now.

She still hadn’t moved. My free hand lifted on its own, resting against her back. I rubbed slow, careful circles, feeling the tension beneath my palm.

She must have been terrified to be holding on like this.

The thought made my chest tighten and, strangely, my heart race.

“I’m okay now, Natsuki,” I murmured. “You don’t have to hold on so hard—”

“Why?”

The word came out sharp and breathless.

I stiffened.

Natsuki pulled away, just far enough for me to see her face. Her eyes were glassy, lashes clumped together as if she’d been fighting tears for a while. Heat crept up her cheeks, red all the way to her ears.

“I don’t see you for a few days because of work,” she said, her voice trembling, “and the next thing I hear is that you collapsed. You weren’t responding. Do you know how scared I was?” She swallowed hard. “They said you pushed yourself too far. That stress was part of it. What happened, Yukina?”

Her emerald eyes searched my face, raw and unguarded.

I tried to speak. Nothing came out. My jaw tightened as my thoughts scattered, every answer I considered falling short.

She reached for me, her hands warm as she cupped my cheeks, gently but firmly making me meet her gaze.
“Tell me the truth,” she whispered.

I couldn’t lie. Not to her.

I lifted my hands, easing hers away from my face but keeping them clasped in mine, as if letting go would make this harder to say.

“I… got scared,” I admitted. My heart began to pound. “When I watched you perform the other day, I couldn’t stop thinking about how much of yourself you put into it. Every line. Every movement.” My grip tightened. “It made me feel like I had to do more. Like I had to push harder, break past my limits—just to be someone who deserved to stand beside you.”

The words spilled out before I could stop them.

“I want to win Nationals.”

The moment I said it, something inside me shifted. The fear was still there, but beneath it burned something stronger. A fragile, stubborn resolve I hadn’t allowed myself to acknowledge until now.

“That’s why I’ve been pushing myself so hard…but if…if this isn’t the right answer. Then I’m not sure if I cou–”

Natsuki put a finger to my lips, stopping me before the doubt could finish forming.

“Yukina,” she said gently, “it’s okay to want more. It’s okay to push yourself.” Her voice didn’t waver. “But it stops meaning anything if you break yourself before you even reach the starting line.”

My shoulders sagged. She was right…and that almost hurt more than if she hadn’t been.

She lowered her hand but stayed close. “When I rehearse, I don’t pour everything out in one night,” she continued. “I build toward it. I leave something behind so I can come back the next day and do it again.”

Her beautiful emerald eyes softened. “You don’t need to prove anything to me. Not by running until you’re empty. Not by hurting yourself.”

I swallowed.

“What you’re doing already is hard work,” she said. “And if you want to win Nationals… then I want you to be healthy enough to stand there when you do.”

She hesitated, just a beat. “I don’t want you to disappear trying to become someone you think you have to be.”

My breath caught before I realized why. Heat bloomed in my chest, swelling until it felt too tight to hold, and my throat closed around the air I tried to draw in. I blinked hard, but it was useless, the sting behind my eyes spilled over, tears sliding down my cheeks before I could rein them in.

“Yukina?!” Natsuki startled, stepping closer. She lifted her hands, brushing at my face in a flustered attempt to stop them, but they only kept coming. “S-Sorry—did I say something wrong? I didn’t mean to—”

I caught her wrist, grounding myself in the warmth of her skin. “No,” I said quickly, my voice thick. “I’m fine. It’s just… it feels like something finally settled.” I swallowed, wiping at my face with the back of my hand. “I’m really grateful I met you.”

She stilled, then her touch softened, her thumb grazing my cheek as if the tears were something fragile. A small smile curved her lips. “I could say the same thing,” she said, a quiet giggle slipping out with the words.

The moment stretched, hushed and lingering longer than it probably should have.

Then a ringtone cut through the air.

I winced as the sound echoed from my backpack on the other side of the room. Natsuki glanced over, then crossed the space to pick it up, returning a moment later to press it gently into my hands.

“Hello?”

“BIG SIS?! Are you okay?! Chiaki called us earlier and—!”

I yanked the phone away from my ear with a wince before bringing it back. “Hana—slow down. I’m okay. I really am. I’m sorry for worrying you.”

“Sorry doesn’t cut it!” she snapped, her voice tight. “You never tell us what’s going on, so of course we were freaking out! I couldn’t even wait for you to call!”

“I know,” I said quietly. “That’s on me. Are Mom and Dad with you?”

“Yeah. They started packing the second Chiaki called, just in case it was serious.” I heard movement, a hurried shuffle. “Dad was already halfway out the door. Hold on—Mom wants to talk to you.”

There was a brief rustle before—

“Yukina?! Yukina?! Is that really you?” My mother’s voice was sharp with worry, like she’d been holding her breath this whole time.

“It’s me,” I answered quickly. “I’m okay now. I just… overexerted myself at practice.”

A shaky exhale. “Thank goodness.” Her voice softened. “They told us it wasn’t serious, but still… I want you to rest until you feel completely better, alright? Nationals are next week, aren’t they? All the more reason not to push yourself.”

“I will,” I said, my throat tightening. “I promise.”

“Good. I’ll hand the phone back to Hana. We love you—please take care of yourself.”

“I love you too.”

Hana came back on the line almost immediately. “Oh—and just so you know, we’re coming to Nationals.”

I bit my lip. “You are?”

“Yeah. But don’t stress, we're staying at Uncle’s place. If you’ve got time, come see us.” Her tone softened, just a little.

“I’ll see you then,” I said.

“Take care, Big Sis. And call us more, okay?” She added, almost as an afterthought, “Love you.”

The call ended. I stared at the dark screen for a moment longer than necessary before looking back up at Natsuki.

“Sorry,” I said, lowering my phone. “I didn’t expect them to call so suddenly.”

Natsuki waved it off, hands fluttering. “It’s fine! I just didn’t know you had a younger sister.”

“She’s a high school senior,” I explained. “We’re only about two years apart, but she really likes to remind me that I’m her big sister.” I hesitated, then added, half-thinking aloud, “Maybe… if there’s a chance, I could introduce you someday—”
The thought caught up to me. My sister. A certified Natsuki fangirl.
“W-We’ll see,” I said with a nervous laugh.

Natsuki smiled, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “She sounds like a handful,” she said lightly. Then, softer, “But… she must care about you a lot.”

My breath hitched for just a second. I forced myself to relax, to keep my expression steady, though something warm and unexpected had already settled in my chest.

She glanced at her phone, then rose to her feet, already moving toward the door.
“My manager’s calling,” she said lightly. “She’s probably wondering where I disappeared to. I hope you feel better.”

Her hand closed around the handle.

The urge hit before I could think it through…hot, insistent, impossible to ignore.
“W-Will you…” The words tumbled out as I pushed myself upright. “Will you come watch me at Nationals?”

My cheeks burned. “I—I’d really like it if you were there.”

It felt dangerously close to a confession.

She turned back, and that familiar smile, warm, unguarded lit up her face.
“I’ll see you then,” she said, punctuating it with a playful wink.

The door clicked shut.

My heart kept racing, faster than it ever did mid-race. I waited for it to slow, for the feeling to pass, but it didn’t. This was different. New. Unsettling in the best way.

I sank back onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling. After a moment, I lifted my hand, fingers spread wide, trembling slightly, then slowly curled them into a fist.

This time, I wasn’t going to lose.