Chapter Text
In the dim light of the streetlights, Ayumi stood near the theater’s exit, watching the busy street traffic and passing strangers.The noise of city life was pure chaos, her own heart anything but calm. Each minute stretched unbearably, yet she couldn’t bring herself to step away from the spot. She felt as if moving would mean running from something she’d tried to avoid for far too long.
The cool air of the late evening was a welcome distraction, soothing each wave of heat rushing over Ayumi’s body. Each one born of a mere memory from the events on stage. She took her hands out of her coat pockets for the autumn chill to steady her senses. But her thoughts remained restless, replaying in her mind the look in Maya’s eyes before she had walked offstage. The uncertainty, the hope, and perhaps even a touch of fear—it was like a mirror of her own emotions, feelings she hadn’t dared to name.
The door behind her creaked open, and Ayumi’s pulse quickened. Expecting to see Maya, she harshly turned around, but there was only an unfamiliar silhouette against the soft light of the theater. Slowly breathing out, Ayumi closed her eyes in an attempt to calm down her tensed nerves once more as the torturous anticipation promised to continue.
“What if she won’t come?” The thought appeared out of nowhere, as Ayumi tugged the sleeve of her coat to look at the watch on her wrist. Her gaze raised on the car waiting for her, noticing that the driver was getting out and looking at her with concern. “Maybe it’s for the best.”
Ayumi let out a long exhale, the huff a somewhat strange relief and looked up at the gloomy sky, gathering the courage to leave. She was ready to call the evening off—ready to slip back into the shadows where she had always felt safest . Wouldn't it be easier to pretend she never invited Maya to meet her? That the look in Maya’s eyes hadn’t reached something deep inside her? But she knew it was too late, and Ayumi had to endure it.
“Ayumi-san!” The sound of Maya’s voice broke through the quiet chaos of the street like a dropped pin. It was soft, hesitant, yet impossible to ignore. Ayumi froze mid-step, her breath catching as if the evening air had turned to glass in her lungs. Reluctantly, she turned around to face her rival.
Maya stood just outside the doorway, framed by the golden spill of light from the theater behind her. Her hands clutched the strap of her bag tightly, as though holding onto it for strength, while uncertainty could be read in her slightest movement.
“I’m sorry,” Maya began, her voice quiet but hurried, as though she were desperate to fill the silence before Ayumi could respond. “The director stopped me. He… he wanted to discuss my performance in that scene.”
Ayumi held her breath; the emotions she’d been holding at bay began to bubble to the surface. She wanted to respond with a reassuring smile, to tell Maya that it was fine, that she had only been waiting for a little while—but the words caught in her throat. Instead, she nodded slowly, her gaze fixed on Maya’s face.
“Ayumi-san?” Maya’s voice shook with uncertainty. She took a small step forward, but then stopped as if she was afraid to step over some invisible line drawn between them.
“I wasn’t sure you would come.” Ayumi’s voice was calmer than she felt, though her hands curled tightly into fists at her sides to hide their trembling. She took a step closer, the space between them narrowing just slightly. “It’s late, though. I would understand.”
“I wasn’t sure either,” Maya admitted quietly; her voice wavered on the last word. She gripped her bag tighter, her gaze flickering downward as a faint blush colored her cheeks. “But I didn’t want to leave it like that…What I said earlier.”
Ayumi’s heart stumbled at the reminder. She watched as Maya hesitated, clearly gathering her courage, before looking back up at her with an expression so vulnerable it made Ayumi’s chest ache.
“You don’t have to answer.” Maya’s voice was just above a whisper and could be easily lost to the wind if Ayumi didn’t already pay close attention. “It was too sudden and…”
A silence fell between them, thick and trembling with everything unspoken. The wind tugged at Maya’s hair, sending loose strands dancing across her face, but she made no move to brush them away. Ayumi swallowed hard, feeling her heartbeat unsteadily in her chest.
“This isn’t something we can simply brush off and forget.” Ayumi said her voice came out softer than she expected. Maya was lost, perhaps even more than she had been all these days, but there was a single chance that they were seeking the same light.
However, there was only one problem in sight, and Ayumi realized it as soon as she glanced over a hustling street. This wasn’t a conversation they could afford to have in the chaos of passing strangers. Few options flashed through her mind, but at this hour it was hard to find a calm place away from prying eyes.
“My car is just over there,” Ayumi said, tilting her head toward the sleek black vehicle parked nearby. Her voice was calm, but the slight tremor in her hands betrayed the storm of emotions inside her. “It’s quieter. We can talk there.”
Maya’s eyes rounded in surprise, but she didn't say a word, nodding several times instead. Dread was written over her face, one that Ayumi understood way too well, yet it mingled with resolve she had never seen in her rival ever before.
Ayumi led the way, her footsteps deliberate but unsteady, and her thoughts went blank as she didn’t know what to expect next. Maya obediently followed her, yet the tension in her posture indicated that she fought the desire to run away at any given opportunity. This was akin to a walk over a frozen lake, while the ice was so thin that one wrong step could break beneath them at any second.
Ayumi opened the car back door for Maya before sliding into the seat beside her rival. She briefly exchanged a few words with her driver, and the man nodded in acknowledgement, getting out of the car to give two actresses some privacy. The door shut behind him with a muted thud, sealing away the hum of the city.
The silence fell between them, filled with the weight of everything they needed to say. However, none had the courage to say the first word. It was harder than anything Ayumi ever did in her life. She never struggled for the right words nor flinched away from difficult conversation, yet now she wasn’t sure what should be said and done.
“Ayumi-san…!” Maya blurted out first, squeezing the hem of her coat between her fingers as if it was the only anchor she had. Her eyes searched Ayumi’s for something, but then her gaze slipped away, focusing on her own hands.
“It doesn’t have to mean anything,” Ayumi took the lead, her voice soft but steady. Her own heart mirrored that fear she saw in Maya, yet she didn’t let it come to the surface. “What you said earlier…”
“No! “Maya’s head snapped up, her eyes wide with alarm. “It does mean something,” she said quickly, her voice trembling. “I wouldn’t have said it if it didn’t.”
Ayumi’s heart skipped a beat, her breath catching in her throat. She had been prepared for Maya to retreat, to hide behind their roles and the script, but not this. She could give any explanation, even the dullest one, and Ayumi would accept it in an instant, but hearing the raw honesty in her rival’s voice left her momentarily unmoored.
“Then you should tell me what it means,” Ayumi said carefully, unconsciously leaning slightly toward Maya. Her breath slowed down, while her pulse thumped in her ears. It felt like a climactic scene in an unknown play that could reach its peak at any moment. “I’m afraid my assumptions might not match reality.”
Maya hesitated; her fingers curled into fists as she glanced at Ayumi again. The words seemed to hover on her lips, just out of reach, and Ayumi could see the internal battle playing out behind her downcast eyes.
“It’s just…” Maya began, her voice barely audible. She swallowed hard, her shoulders trembling slightly as she forced herself to meet Ayumi’s gaze. “I don’t know how to put it into words. But being on stage with you, it’s… It’s not just acting anymore; it's not a rivalry. It feels different.”
“Maya…” Ayumi whispered, her chest ached with a mix of emotions she couldn’t fully name. Relief, fear, and something dangerously close to hope, but she had to listen to common sense first and foremost. “Maybe it’s this play to be blamed. What you found for Karen is remarkable, but are you sure it doesn’t affect you more than it should?”
“I’m not a rookie anymore.” Maya shook her head with a weak smile, which never reached her eyes. “At first, I thought so too. I saw such cases and how actors struggle with separating their roles and real lives, but...” She paused, raising her gaze to Ayumi’s face. “This play affected me, but not in a way you think.”
Ayumi couldn't tear her gaze away from Maya. A thousand questions swirled through her mind, but she held them all back, afraid that her words would break the spell of the moment.
“Me and Karen. We are not so different after all, are we?” Maya let out a short laugh that left behind only a shadow of a smile.
Ayumi’s breath caught as she heard Maya’s words. She couldn’t answer this question. It was a mystery for her which Karen Maya meant—the ignorant one she saw in the script from the start or one she found beyond written lines. Yet she couldn’t bring herself to ask.
“Ayumi-san, I…” Maya fell silent, biting her lower lip.
Ayumi’s fingers brushed against the edge of the seat, searching for an anchor, something to ground her in the uncertain moment. She watched as Maya’s lips parted, the words slow to come, but her eyes gave an answer louder than any confession.
“I can’t pretend it isn’t there,” Maya admitted, her voice wavering, while her hands trembled slightly as they gripped the fabric of her coat once more.
Ayumi’s heart ached at the vulnerability in Maya’s voice. She reached out slowly, her hand hovering for a moment before she let it fall between them. Ayumi felt as if the walls she had so carefully built around herself were beginning to crack. She wanted to tell Maya that she understood, that she wasn’t alone in her confusion, but fear held her back. Dread of what these feelings might mean for both of them and of what might happen if she said it out loud.
“But I’m not alone in this, right?” Maya muttered in desperation as her patience seemed to grow thin in the wait for Ayumi’s answer. A silent plea shimmered in her eye as she looked straight at Ayumi. “Tell me, Ayumi-san, did I imagine the shift in your performance?”
“You didn’t,” Ayumi answered, her voice steady despite the storm raging inside her. “That’s why I asked you to meet me.”
Maya’s eyes widened, her lips parting in a silent gasp. The shock in her expression was almost too much for Ayumi to bear, but she held her gaze, refusing to look away.
“What…? But…!” Maya tried to speak, but her thoughts seemed to be in chaos, messing up her ability to speak. ‘Why?” Confusion and panic changed one another as she tried to comprehend what happened a moment ago.
“Maya.” Finally regaining control over herself, Ayumi laid her palm atop Maya’s, squeezing it gently. “Where did your bravery go all of a sudden?” She smiled reassuringly while her own body trembled from the inside.
“Why didn’t you say it sooner?” Maya whispered, visibly relaxing under Ayumi’s touch.
“Because it’s terrifying.” Ayumi’s gaze faltered for the first time, her confidence wavering. “I might not be as weak-minded as Martha, but confession and rejection would stain the relationship we had so far.”
“I would never…!” Maya answered in alert, grabbing Ayumi’s hand into hers. She held onto her as if Ayumi was her most precious treasure., pressing her lips in a thin line and frowning in determination.
“That is even scarier.” Ayumi shook her head. “A mere rumor ruined two women’s lives; what could the truth do to us? To your future. You’ve worked so hard to build your career, Maya. I’ve watched you grow into someone remarkable. I can’t be the reason that’s put at risk.”
“You think you’re protecting me, but you’re not.” Maya’s grip on Ayumi’s hand tightened as if refusing to let her words slip away. Her determination was both heartbreaking and inspiring, a reflection of the courage Ayumi herself had struggled to summon. “Hiding from this, pretending it’s not real—It hurts more than any mocking article or whispers behind my back.”
For a long moment, silence settled over them, heavy with the weight of unspoken fears. Ayumi’s hand remained in Maya’s grasp, their connection grounding her in a way nothing else could.
“Maya,” Ayumi said finally, her voice steady despite the chaos in her thoughts. “If we do this—if we acknowledge what this is—we have to be prepared for what it might mean. We live in different times, but this won’t be much easier than for Martha and Karen. Judgment, whispers, rumors…”
“I know.” Maya nodded slowly, her gaze never leaving Ayumi’s. “But I’d rather face all of that with you than spend another day pretending this isn’t real.”
“And what if it’s too much?” Ayumi asked, her voice soft. She breathed out slowly, admitting her defeat. She had always prided herself on control, on discipline, but sitting here in Maya’s steady gaze, she realized this was not something she could rehearse or plan her way out of. “What if it becomes something we can’t control? There won’t be any scripts to follow.”
“Then we’ll figure it out together,” Maya said simply. She leaned forward slightly, her eyes searching Ayumi’s for any sign of doubt. “Isn’t that what we’ve always done? On stage—we push each other to be better, to go further. This won’t be much different.”
“Together…” Ayumi murmured, the words spilling out before she could second-guess them. Her fingers relaxed in Maya’s grasp, her thumb brushing lightly against the back of Maya’s hand. It was a small gesture, but it carried the weight of everything she couldn’t yet put into words.
The world outside the car ceased to exist. There was only the quiet hum of their breaths, the warmth of their shared space. For the first time in what felt like forever, the storm inside Ayumi began to calm, leaving behind the fragile but undeniable certainty that whatever came next, they would face it side by side.