Kaede's name was finally called. She took a deep breath, feeling the weight of countless emotions pressing down on her shoulders as she rose from her seat. Mirei gave her hand a gentle squeeze, her gaze filled with warmth and encouragement.
"You've got this," she whispered softly, her voice the anchor Kaede needed.
Kaede forced a small smile, gripping Mirei's hand one last time before letting go. She steadied herself, ignoring the dull ache that had settled into her ankle, and walked slowly toward the evaluation room. Her steps were careful, almost calculated, each one a quiet testament to her determination to make it through this.
As she stepped into the evaluation room, she felt the eyes of the producers and directors fix upon her. Their gaze drifted down to her injured ankle, observing the slow, hesitant way she walked. A few of them exchanged glances, shaking their heads and sighing in silence. Kaede could feel their doubts radiating off them, the unspoken pity as they took in her condition.
The first phase of the evaluation was the singing test. Kaede inhaled deeply, grounding herself. When she opened her mouth to sing, her voice filled the room, clear and unwavering. Her strong, sweet tone carried through the air, each note a promise of the dedication and passion she poured into her craft. For a few brief moments, she could forget the pain, forget the anxiety, and lose herself in the music. The judges listened intently, some nodding along, their expressions softening slightly as her song came to an end. She'd passed the first hurdle.
Then came the second phase: the dance evaluation.
The producers and directors looked at her with a mixture of concern and doubt. One of them leaned forward, his tone gentle but firm. "Kaede, are you sure you want to do this? With your condition, you don't have to push yourself too far."
But Kaede didn't hesitate. "I want to do this," she replied, a resolute determination shining in her eyes. She wasn't about to let her injury hold her back, not after coming this far. She was determined to give it everything she had, no matter the cost.
The music began, and she moved as gracefully as her body would allow, fighting against the sharp pain that flared with each step. Her movements started steady, deliberate as she tried to mask her discomfort. The directors and producers watched, their expressions tense as they took in the strain she was hiding.
As the song progressed, however, the pain became harder to ignore. Her ankle throbbed with each beat, a reminder of her limits. When the first verse came, Kaede's strength finally faltered, her ankle giving way beneath her. She fell to the floor with a soft, painful thud, gasping as the impact sent a shock of pain through her leg.
One of the directors leaned forward, alarmed. "Kaede, stop. That's enough."
Kaede shook her head, her voice barely a whisper, yet filled with determination. "I… I can do it. Just… just give me one more chance."
With tears gathering in her eyes, she pushed herself up, her body trembling as she tried to stand. The pain was nearly overwhelming, a fierce reminder of her limits, but she refused to give in. She wanted—needed—to show them how much this meant to her, even if it hurt.
But before she could take another step, the manager and staff hurried over, their faces etched with worry. They gently took her arms, their voices soft as they urged her to stop. "Kaede, it's okay. You don't have to push yourself anymore."
Her tears finally spilled over, hot and silent as she realized she couldn't finish her evaluation. The frustration, the helplessness, all of it poured out as she lowered her head, the weight of her dreams slipping through her fingers. She hadn't even made it halfway through the performance.
The staff helped her out of the evaluation room, and as she exited, she could see the looks on the other trainees' faces. Mirei's eyes widened, concern filling them as she took in Kaede's weary, tear-streaked face. She didn't ask any questions, simply moving closer and slipping her hand into Kaede's, a quiet presence of comfort beside her.
The other trainees whispered among themselves, surprised that Kaede had come out so soon. It had only been a few minutes, nowhere near the thirty they had each spent. But Mirei could see the pain etched on Kaede's face, and instead of pressing her for answers, she held her hand tighter, wordlessly offering her support.
A few minutes later, the producers emerged, gathering all the trainees for a final speech. They stood before them, the room filled with tension and anticipation as everyone waited, hoping for a small hint of what the outcome might be.
"First, we want to thank each and every one of you," one of the producers began, his voice solemn. "Your dedication, hard work, and passion over these past nine months have not gone unnoticed. We understand how much you've sacrificed to be here, and we respect each of you for seeing this journey through to the end."
Another producer stepped forward, continuing. "Tomorrow, we'll be meeting again to announce the debut lineup. We understand this is a difficult and nerve-wracking time, but please remember that regardless of the results, each of you has grown tremendously. The commitment you've shown will carry you far, no matter the outcome."
With that, the producers dismissed the trainees, leaving them with a mixture of hope, fear, and gratitude. They left in quiet groups, each trainee lost in their thoughts, holding onto their hopes for the day to come.
As Kaede and Mirei walked home together, the silence between them was filled with an unspoken understanding. Kaede could feel the weight of Mirei's concern beside her, but she couldn't bring herself to speak, the day's events still raw in her mind. Mirei, sensing her need for space, didn't press her. Instead, she reached out, gently brushing her hand against Kaede's shoulder in a silent gesture of comfort.
They walked in silence for a few more moments before Mirei finally spoke, her voice quiet but full of warmth. "Whatever happens tomorrow, just know… you've already done so much. You don't have to carry this alone."
Kaede nodded, her gaze fixed on the ground as Mirei's words washed over her, a soothing balm against the raw ache in her heart. She tried to smile, the corners of her mouth lifting slightly as she looked at Mirei.
"Thank you… for always being here," Kaede whispered, her voice barely audible.
Mirei smiled, her expression tender as she reached out to squeeze Kaede's hand gently. "Always," she replied simply, the word filled with a quiet, steady promise.
They stopped in front of Kaede's door, a long pause stretching between them as they lingered, neither quite ready to part. Mirei's gaze held Kaede's, a quiet encouragement that seemed to say more than words ever could.
"Good night," Mirei murmured, her hand lingering in Kaede's for a heartbeat longer.
"Good night," Kaede replied, her voice soft, but with a hint of newfound strength.
As Mirei walked away, Kaede watched her disappear into her home, her heart filled with a complex mixture of gratitude, longing, and a spark of hope.