Act 21: Time Goes On

The next morning felt warm in every sense of the word.

I stirred slowly, my eyes opening to the sight of Natsuki sleeping beside me, peaceful and unguarded. Her mouth hung slightly open, a tiny trace of drool at the corner of her lips.

A soft laugh escaped me before I could stop it.

I leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. She shifted immediately, turning her face into the pillow and murmuring, “Yukinaaa~”

Careful not to wake her, I slipped out of bed and adjusted the blankets around her. In the bathroom, I splashed cool water on my face and lifted my gaze to the mirror, only for my eyes to trail down to the clothes I’d slept in.

…There was no way I could run in this.

When I stepped back into the room, my attention drifted to Natsuki’s closet. She wouldn’t mind… right? I glanced at the bed again. She hadn’t moved.

I tiptoed inside.

Calling it a closet felt misleading. It was closer to a boutique, racks neatly arranged with outfits that looked like the kind Chiaki nearly convinced me to buy, if they hadn’t been outrageously expensive. I stared for a moment longer than I meant to.

All I needed was something simple. Shorts or jogging pants. A shirt.

I searched for the kinds of clothes she wore during rehearsals, familiar and practical among all the designer pieces.

There.

Gray joggers, soft and well-fitted, paired with a matching gray quarter-zip sweater. When I tried them on, they fit almost perfectly, like they’d been waiting for me.

I slipped out of the room quietly, closing the door with care. “I’ll be back soon,” I whispered to the sleeping figure inside.

Downstairs, I was tugging on my shoes when movement in the kitchen caught my eye. I instinctively slowed, hoping to pass unnoticed, but—

“You’re up early.”

Natsuki’s father stood by the counter, pouring himself a cup of coffee.

I stopped midstep, then straightened. “Y-Yeah… just going for a morning run.”

He turned slightly, and only then did I notice he was already dressed for it. Matching joggers in a muted charcoal, paired with a fitted athletic jacket, the quarter-zip pulled halfway up. Clean, practical, and unmistakably well-worn. Not something thrown on at a whim. This was routine.

“Do you mind if I join you?” he asked.

I hesitated, then shook my head. “I… I don’t mind.”

“Good.” He set his cup down. “I’ll meet you outside.”

~~~

I never thought this would happen. Not like this.

Behind the Koba estate sat a small track, tucked away as if it were a secret meant only for early mornings. It wasn’t a full-sized outdoor oval, more like the compact tracks used for indoor meets. The surface was carefully maintained, bordered by low hedges and tall trees that hemmed it in with quiet greenery. It felt less like a facility and more like a personal retreat, shielded from the rest of the world.

Judging by how easily he moved, this wasn’t his first time here.

We started jogging without a word between us. Just the sound of our shoes against the track, steady and even. About a mile in, I realized something was off.

He was still beside me.

My pace was comfortable, natural, the kind I fell into during morning runs. The air was cold enough to bite at my lungs, but nothing I wasn’t used to. Still, he matched me stride for stride, his breathing controlled, posture relaxed.

Without meaning to, I began to push.

Not dramatically. Just enough.

I lengthened my stride, picked up the tempo, curious to see if he’d fall back. He didn’t. If anything, he adjusted just as smoothly, as if accepting the unspoken challenge.

Another half mile passed before he suddenly surged forward, breaking the rhythm. Not a sprint, but sharp and deliberate. The kind of acceleration you’d expect near the bell lap of an 800.

I reacted on instinct, chasing after him before my body could object.

We stopped soon after, both of us pulling up short near the edge of the track. I bent forward slightly, hands braced on my knees, breath coming heavier than it usually did after a casual run. When I glanced over, he wasn’t faring much better, one hand resting on his hip as he exhaled slowly.

“Did you do any sports when you were younger?” I asked between breaths.

He straightened, reaching into his pocket for a handkerchief. “I did. The 800-meter.”

That caught me off guard.

“For a while,” he continued, wiping his brow. “Life intervened. But I liked it. That’s why I still run when I can.”

We eased into a cooldown walk along the far curve of the track. The silence that followed felt less awkward now, almost companionable.

“Do you like running?” he asked.

I didn’t answer right away. My gaze drifted toward the house ahead, its windows catching the pale morning light.

“I do now,” I said finally. “Because of Natsuki.”

He hummed in acknowledgment. “It seems you’ve had your share of setbacks, haven’t you?”

I almost laughed at how easily he read me.

“I see a bit of myself in you,” he went on. “Forgive me for indulging in old memories, but I think you’re capable of more than you believe.”

I frowned slightly, unsure where he was going.

“Have you ever considered the Japan Championships?”

The words hit so suddenly I nearly stumbled.

“N-No,” I said quickly, shaking my head. “That’s… that’s on a completely different level.”

He smiled, unfazed. “With refined form and proper training, you could go farther than you think.”

“What makes you so sure?” I asked.

“Intuition,” he replied, as if that settled it. Then, with a dismissive wave of his hand, “But don’t mind an old man. I don’t know anything anymore.”

We didn’t speak after that.

When we returned inside, the house was still quiet. I went upstairs and found Natsuki asleep, her breathing slow and even. I sat at the edge of the bed and gently brushed her hair back from her face.

To be someone worthy of standing beside her.

Maybe she wouldn’t care how far I went. Maybe that was never the point.

But after this morning, after those words, I found myself wanting to know just how far I could really go.

~~~

A few days later, I finally returned home after my first night at Natsuki’s. She didn’t come back with me. We had agreed it would be best to put our dates on hold until everything surrounding the scandal settled.

My family worried endlessly when I didn’t return right away, even after I’d already explained everything over the phone. Hana in particular hovered, asking the same questions in different ways, as if she were afraid I might disappear the moment she looked away.

On the third day after I came home, the news broke.

Yuuto Sterling had officially annulled his engagement with Koba Natsuki, citing “conflicting interests.”

Just like he’d said, the media frenzy cooled faster than expected. The Sterlings themselves appeared largely untouched by the fallout, which I suspected was Yuuto’s doing more than anything else. It left a bitter taste in my mouth. What had been a brief headline for them had caused Natsuki and me no small amount of emotional turmoil.

Still, I was relieved. Things were beginning to stabilize.

My face never surfaced in any of the articles. Not that I wanted it to. It was obvious someone was working behind the scenes to keep my identity out of the spotlight, and I was grateful for it.

When reporters pressed Natsuki about the person in the photo, she only said it was someone she cared deeply about and refused to elaborate further.

There were fears she might lose sponsorships because of it. Instead, her popularity surged. New interviews, new schedules, rehearsals filling her days once more. If anything, the mystery seemed to draw people in rather than push them away.

Questions lingered, of course. But her fanbase took it better than anyone expected. Most people seemed genuinely happy for her.

I wasn’t the type to scroll endlessly through social media, so Hana became my primary source of updates, relaying headlines and fan reactions with far more enthusiasm than I could manage.

In the end, the situation settled without further incident.

Life began to resemble normal again.

Or at least, that’s what I thought.

I sat on the couch of my home trying to enjoy the short precious time with my girlfriend before she had to leave before my family came back from their shopping trip, yet, it seemed I was being interrupted by three particular individuals. Sipping on my tea.

“I never got to meet you all properly,” Natsuki said, settling beside me while the others sat on the floor around the coffee table.

Benio reacted instantly, dropping flat on her stomach. “To be in your presence is an honor!” she declared dramatically.

Tatsumi let out a tired sigh and nudged her with his foot. “Get up, you’re embarrassing all of us.” He looked back at Natsuki and cleared his throat. “I’m Tatsumi. That’s Benio.”

Natsuki laughed, the sound light and genuine, then turned her attention to Chiaki, who stiffened on the spot.

“Uh—um,” Chiaki started, her gaze sliding away. “I’m Harukaze Chiaki.” Her ears were already bright red.

Natsuki’s smile softened. “Nice to meet you, Chiaki.”

She glanced between all three of them, then added, almost hesitantly, “Yukina told me I could just… talk to you like normal. As a friend.”

There was a brief pause.

Benio lifted her head. “Wait. Like… actually normal?”

“Please,” Natsuki said with a small laugh. “I’d really like that.”

Something shifted in the room after that.

The tension melted away, replaced with easy chatter. I’d suggested we play a board game, pulling one out from a shelf. Soon enough, pieces were scattered everywhere, rules were argued over, and accusations of cheating flew freely.

“That move was illegal!” Benio protested, slamming her hands on the table.

“It absolutely was not,” Natsuki shot back, pointing at the rule sheet. “Read it properly.”

Tatsumi leaned back, arms crossed. “I leave for one second and it turns into a battlefield.”

Chiaki tried to mediate, failed completely, and ended up laughing harder than anyone.

Natsuki’s laughter was different from the polished kind I’d seen on stage. This one was unguarded. Bright. She leaned forward, fully engaged, eyes sparkling as she argued, teased, and celebrated small victories.

Watching her like this, surrounded by people who weren’t asking for autographs or praise, I realized something.

This was what she’d wanted all along.

And for the first time, she had it.

What had felt short ended up stretching into an entire day. Before it grew too dark for them to head home, the trio finally left without holding back on their remarks.

“Stay safe, you two love birds. We don’t want to see a part two of before, okay?” Chiaki joked.

The other two laughed, and so did Natsuki beside me as she waved them goodbye. “It was really fun playing with you all. Let’s do this again sometime.”

They waved back with smiles on their faces, Benio’s the widest. I scoffed with a grin. She really was like a little kid.

When I shut the door behind us, I could hear Natsuki giggling. “That was a lot of fun.” Her eyes were glistening.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it. They can be a bit of a headache, but they’re good people,” I said.

“If you say they’re good people, then I’ll take your word for it.” She trotted to the couch first and sat down, then patted her lap, fully aware that I probably couldn’t resist.

I rested my head on her lap, stretching my legs out along the couch. She began to stroke my hair, the motion soothing and familiar.

She let out a sigh, one I did not hear often. “I wish I could stay here longer. My mom booked me for some photo shoots starting in a few days.”

A faint frown tugged at her lips. I reached up and lightly pulled on her cheek. “Well, I guess I’ll have to get used to being by myself again,” I teased.

Natsuki pinched my cheeks in return. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

We shared a bit of laughter before I lifted myself up and placed a hand over hers. “I’ve been thinking. I want to be able to stand by you properly. I know you don’t care about all that stuff, but watching you do all these things inspires me to do better.”

I met her gaze as her cheeks slowly flushed. “I don’t know exactly what yet, but just know that I will be there.”

Natsuki giggled softly near my ear and gave me a light peck on the cheek. “No matter what you do, Yukina, I’ll support you and be there with you.”

Her words warmed my chest, like magic spoken aloud, the kind that made ambitions feel possible simply because she believed in them. Our gazes lingered on one another a moment longer.

Our heads touched, then…

The front door banged open, followed by an unapologetic, “We’re home!” Hana’s voice rang out without a hint of restraint.

Natsuki and I immediately pulled apart, our quiet moment shattered. The instant Hana stepped inside, her eyes flicked between us, lingering on the space we had suddenly put between ourselves.

“I thought you two were already asleep… oh,” she paused, realization dawning. “Did I interrupt something?”

She carefully took a step back.

“N-No!” we answered in unison, our flushed faces betraying us anyway.

Hana smiled knowingly. “Mom, Dad, I think we need to give them a little more time.”

“What?” they both replied, clearly missing her meaning.

My parents leaned into the living room, only to find Natsuki and me sitting side by side on the couch, trying and failing to look casual.

“W-Welcome home,” we greeted.

“We brought ingredients for a big feast tonight,” my mom said brightly.

I raised a brow. “Really? What’s the occasion?”

“Nothing special,” my dad replied easily. “We just figured that since Natsuki’s staying for dinner, we might as well cook a lot.”

Natsuki and I exchanged a glance, then laughed softly together.

“Then we’ll help set the table,” we said at the same time as we stood, moving to unpack what they had brought home.

As we worked, easy conversation filled the room, warming the air around us. Without meaning to, I began to picture a future like this, standing beside Natsuki, moments stretched out and familiar. Maybe she was a little older, maybe things had changed, but scenes like this felt precious all the same. The thought made me smile.

“What are you smirking about over there?” Natsuki asked, nudging me gently.

“Not telling,” I replied, unable to keep the warmth from my voice.