Act 11: Nationals

The next morning, I was discharged from the hospital with strict instructions to rest until Nationals. When I asked about practice, the doctor didn’t mince words. Anything I did had to be in moderation if I wanted to avoid collapsing again.

I apologized to Benio for lashing out. She brushed it off like it was nothing, but the guilt still sat heavy in my chest.

I also told Chiaki everything. What happened. What led me there. She listened, nodding along, until she had the nerve to ask what Natsuki and I did after she left the hospital room. I hit her without thinking, my face burning as the memories surfaced. The fashion major only smirked, completely unapologetic, and left me alone with my embarrassment.

The soreness lingered for days, a dull reminder of how far I’d pushed myself. This time, I did things properly. I ate. I rested. I listened to my body, even when every instinct told me to move.

Coach put together a separate recovery plan just for me. It focused on rest, light runs, and scaled-back weight training to help my body rebuild instead of break down. I followed it carefully, grateful for the chance and quietly ashamed of how reckless I’d been.

Natsuki never showed up at practice during that time, but it didn’t bother me.

I knew she’d be there at Nationals.

~~~

The day before Nationals, I met my family at the nearest train station after they’d settled in with my uncle. Hana was the first to spot me, barreling forward and wrapping her arms around me in a tight squeeze that nearly knocked the air out of my lungs. My parents followed close behind, their relief evident in the way they looked me over, as if making sure I was really standing there. They seemed a little older than the last time I’d seen them in the spring, or maybe I was just noticing it more now.

One of the first places we went was Kaisei University. Hana would be starting college next year, and though she hadn’t decided where to apply yet, she wanted to see what campus life looked like. I couldn’t blame her. Walking through the front gates again made me realize how familiar it had all become.

The campus was lively despite the quiet tension humming beneath the surface of my own thoughts. Wide stone paths branched out in every direction, lined with trees just beginning to shift colors for autumn. Students passed by in small clusters, some laughing, others hunched over notes or phones, backpacks slung low on tired shoulders. The air smelled faintly of coffee from a nearby café tucked beneath one of the academic buildings.

We passed the Sports Medicine building on our way toward the track. Its glass exterior reflected the afternoon sun, and inside I could see silhouettes moving between treatment rooms and offices. The sight alone made my muscles tense out of habit.

“Do you know what you want to study?” I asked, keeping my tone light as we walked.

Hana slowed, her steps faltering for just a moment. She looked down at her leg, her fingers brushing absently against her knee.

“Not really,” she admitted quietly.

It wasn’t something I’d forgotten. Her injury to her right leg had ended her volleyball career during her second year of high school, even after she’d become team captain. Seeing her now, in her third year and unable to play, I knew she was still searching for something to replace what she’d lost, but the doctor's had mentioned with rest she'd be able to get back into it. 

I cursed myself internally for bringing it up.

Trying to steer us somewhere safer, I mentioned casually that Natsuki had been rehearsing in the university’s auditorium. The effect was immediate. Hana’s posture straightened, her eyes lighting up like someone had flipped a switch.

“You mean the Koba Natsuki?” she exclaimed. “I never thought you’d be a fan, Sis. Especially not enough to call her by her first name.”

I stopped in my tracks.

“R-Right,” I said quickly, laughing a little too hard as I scratched the back of my head. “I just… became a fan recently.”

Thankfully, she didn’t press further. The conversation drifted elsewhere as we continued the tour. Hana peppered me with questions about classes and dorm life, while my parents took everything in quietly, smiling as they watched the two of us walk side by side again.

We parted at the station not long after, agreeing to meet again tomorrow at the meet.

Once they were gone, I headed straight for Aozora Park. I ran a single lap, letting the familiar rhythm settle my nerves. As I passed the amphitheater, my eyes drifted toward the stage, half-expecting to see someone there.

It was empty.

With Nationals looming closer, the unease never fully left me. Running helped, if only briefly, giving me a pocket of calm before the thoughts returned. Accepting that, I headed home and slept better than I had in days, my body heavy and my mind finally quiet.

~~~

Tokyo National Stadium

It was larger than anything I’d imagined.

The moment we stepped through the tunnel, the world seemed to open up all at once. The ceiling soared high above us, steel and glass arching like a vast crown over the arena. Rows upon rows of seats curved endlessly outward, an ocean of gray and white that could swallow sound itself. This was the same ground that had hosted the Olympics, the trials, moments that had been etched into history long before I ever dreamed of standing here.

My team, dressed in blue trimmed with gold, slowed instinctively as we emerged onto the track. No one said a word.  Awe clung to us just as heavily as the humid air.

Sixty-eight thousand seats.

Four times the capacity of any stadium we’d ever competed in.

The track beneath our feet was a deep, immaculate red, smooth and flawless, its lanes crisp and untouched. At the center, real grass stretched wide and vivid, a sharp green that made the track feel even more alive. I pressed a hand to my chest, trying to steady my breathing, but it was useless. My lips curved upward on their own, my body trembling with something dangerously close to joy.

I was really here.

This was the national stage. A place reserved for the few who had earned the right to stand on it.

Teams from other universities began to filter in, their colors splashing across the track one by one. Then the air shifted.

Crimson uniforms accented with black strode past us with unmistakable confidence. Seiryo University. Our so-called arch rivals. Their expressions were relaxed, smug even, as if this place already belonged to them.

And then I saw her.

A flash of white hair among the crowd, her blue eyes sharp and unmistakable as she moved with her team. Akasaka Nina. Our gazes met for the briefest moment before she looked away, already focused elsewhere.

“Still has one hell of a presence, don’t you think?” Benio murmured at my side, watching her go. “So how are you feeling?”

I shrugged, a smile tugging at my lips despite myself. “I don’t know.”

Then I stepped forward, drawn toward the track as if by instinct.

Before the meet officially began, we spent most of our time acclimating. Benio and Tatsumi headed for the ring, while I jogged along the lanes, letting my feet learn the surface. The track felt fast. Responsive. My body felt light, tuned, alive in a way it hadn’t in weeks.

I was so focused that I didn’t notice someone pulling alongside me until I nearly stumbled.

“You look better.”

Her voice was calm, detached. Akasaka had matched my pace without even glancing over, her eyes fixed straight ahead.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I shot back.

She didn’t answer. We rounded the final bend in silence, the curve tightening beneath our feet.

“I’ll be the one to win this,” she said at last, then surged ahead, her stride lengthening effortlessly as she peeled away and returned to her team.

I slowed, irritation flaring hot beneath my skin.

What was that for? A warning? A challenge?

I exhaled, shaking my head as I forced the feeling down.

“We’ll see about that.”

The track stretched out before me, wide and waiting.

~~~

The sun blazed over the stadium, exposing every corner to the world. Camera crews moved constantly, lenses glinting as the stands buzzed with energy. The noise was nothing like a normal meet. It was louder, heavier. Charged with expectation.

I watched from the sidelines as events unfolded one after another. The crack of the starting gun in the sprints. The thud of bodies landing in the sand pit. I caught Tatsumi’s hammer throw from afar, the roar of the crowd making it obvious he’d sent it far. I left before his final attempt, heart pounding, and made my way back toward the team tent.

As I passed the stands, my eyes drifted upward, searching without meaning to.

“Big siiiis!”

Hana waved wildly from the railing, my parents just behind her. I smiled and waved back, warmth spreading through my chest.

I was in the second heat. Three total heats, with the top eight advancing to the final. A two day event. Today was about survival. Tomorrow was where it would matter.

The announcer called the first heat of the women’s 800, and my attention snapped back to the track. Akasaka Nina stepped into her lane, calm and composed, as if the stadium belonged to her.

I didn’t look away once.

The gun fired. She ran beautifully. Smooth, controlled, devastatingly efficient. When she crossed the line, the board lit up.

2:09.15.

I sucked in a sharp breath.

She had beaten her personal best from the last meet. Two ten down to 2:09.15, and this was not even finals. The runners behind her came in at two thirteens and two fifteens. I gripped the hem of my jersey, jaw tight, forcing myself not to smile too widely.

I was not discouraged.

If anything, I felt lit from the inside.

It was that familiar sensation that came from watching someone perform at their peak and feeling your own limits stretch in response. Not envy. Not fear. Just a fierce need to rise to that level.

The runners filtered back toward their tents. Akasaka passed by with an easy stride, a faint grin on her lips as if she already knew what she had done. She did not look at me, but everything about her presence said that this was the standard.

And I intended to meet it.

When my heat was called, I carried that feeling with me onto the track. Confidence steadied my breathing, but the start caught me off guard. My foot slipped and my balance wavered for half a second. Long enough to matter. I recovered quickly, pushing through the pack and crossing second in 2:11.12.

Not good enough to beat her.

But enough.

Enough to make finals. Enough to earn another chance.

As I slowed near the top bend, my eyes drifted toward the stands without thinking, scanning faces I knew would not be there. Blonde hair. Green eyes. I stopped myself and let out a quiet breath.

I moved past our team tent into the athlete area, where bodies buzzed with restless energy. Some stretched in silence. Others talked too loudly, laughter edged with nerves. The air felt thick with competition, pressing in on all sides.

I needed space.

I followed a side exit out of the stadium, and the noise softened almost immediately. Rows of planters lined the walkway, trees casting shade over a few simple benches. It felt tucked away and overlooked, the perfect place to breathe.

I sat on the nearest bench and leaned back, listening as the wind stirred the leaves above me. The roar of the stadium faded into a distant murmur, my heart rate easing as cool air filled my lungs.

The quiet settled over me.

And with it came the thought of her.

The same calm. The same steady presence.

“Looks like you made it to finals.”

The deep voice cut through the calm. I glanced over, irritation flickering before recognition settled in. Sterling Yuuto stood a few steps away, and for reasons I did not bother to hide, disappointment followed.

“Sorry,” he said lightly. “Were you expecting someone else?”

He was dressed casually, almost conspicuously so. White shorts, cream-colored slip-on shoes, a blue short-sleeved blouse, oversized sunglasses, and a bucket hat pulled low. A disguise, if you could call it that.

“Is there something you need?” I asked, keeping my tone flat.

Just like before, he had appeared without warning. I was starting to think it was intentional, but I let it slide.

“I wanted to congratulate you,” he said. “Rough start, but you pulled through. You’re still in the running for tomorrow.” He lowered his sunglasses, meeting my eyes.

“Thanks.”

He smiled. “You’re cold. I thought we were friends by now.”

“I don’t remember agreeing to that,” I replied. “We’ve barely spoken.”

“But Natsuki called you her friend after only a few interactions,” he said, sing-song.

I snapped my head toward him, mouth opening before my thoughts caught up.

He was not wrong.

Even now, I sometimes wondered if I truly deserved that word.

“Is that all you came to say?” I asked.

His expression shifted, just slightly.

“Natsuki won’t be coming.”

The words landed heavier than I expected. I kept my face steady, lips pressing together as I connected the dots.

“I figured,” I said after a moment. “She’s busy with her play and everything else. I kind of expected it.”

The lie tasted bitter in my mouth.

He sighed. “After her performance, people were lining up. Praise everywhere. They want her for similar roles already.”

I looked down at my hands.

Of course they did. She was extraordinary. Anyone could see that.

And I was just—

I shook my head and stood, pushing the thought aside. Turning back to him, I spoke before doubt could creep in.

“Watch me tomorrow, Sterling. I’ll cross that finish line first and show everyone in that stadium who I am.”

Not just to prove myself.

But to be someone worthy of standing beside her.

His smile returned, calm and knowing. “I’ll be watching.”

As the day drew to a close, it was announced that only six of us from our team had qualified for finals. For the seniors, this would be their last meet. Some had fallen short of their usual performances.

That was normal.

Losing was normal.

But tomorrow would be different.

Whether she was there to see it or not, I would run with everything I had.

For my family. For her.

And most importantly, for myself.