Chapter 50: In the Quiet and in the Dark
The mornings at the cafe had become Kaede's favorite part of the day. Though Mirei's schedule was growing tighter with Celestial's debut approaching, she'd still find slivers of time to visit, even if it was just for a quick coffee and a soft hello. Each meeting was brief, mere fragments of conversation before Mirei was swept away into another whirlwind of rehearsals, promotions, and endless responsibilities. But those glimpses were enough for Kaede; it gave her something solid to hold on to, grounding her through the uncertainties of her own path.
As the day of Celestial's debut drew nearer, Kaede's excitement grew. She'd arranged to go with Risa and Yukina, planning every detail from their seats to a personalized bouquet she'd commissioned just for Mirei—lavender roses and lilies arranged carefully with hints of eucalyptus, a blend that would stand out even in the sea of fan gifts. This time, she wasn't just a fan in a crowd; she'd be there, close, witnessing Mirei step into her dreams, knowing she had her own personal place in Mirei's heart.
At the station, Kaede clutched the bouquet, checking her phone for any updates from Risa and Yukina, who were running slightly late. The excitement was humming through her—finally, after so much anticipation, she'd get to witness Mirei shine on stage. But then, her phone buzzed with an unknown number, interrupting her thoughts.
"Hello, is this Miss Shinohara's daughter?" came a voice on the other end, distant and sterile.
Kaede froze, her heart pounding as she gripped the phone tighter. "Yes," she answered cautiously, a sinking feeling blooming within her chest.
"I'm calling from Hoshikawa General. I'm very sorry to inform you, but your mother was in an accident…"
The world seemed to close in, the sounds of the bustling station around her fading to nothing. She barely heard the words that followed, phrases like "passed away on accident" and "our sincerest condolences" tumbling over her as though in slow motion. Her mind refused to process the information. Her mother was just at home, wasn't she? Probably reading, waiting for her to come back with stories of the concert.
Kaede barely noticed her fingers losing grip of the bouquet, petals spilling onto the cold concrete platform. She couldn't move, couldn't cry—she felt locked in place as the news sank in. Only moments before, she'd been wrapped in the thrill of Mirei's debut, yet now she felt stranded in an entirely different reality.
---
The bouquet of flowers, once intended for Mirei's debut, now rested by her mother's simple casket, filling the room with the soft fragrance of lavender and lilies. Kaede stood alone by the altar, her shoulders hunched as she gazed down at the arrangement. Her hands trembled, remembering how meticulously she'd chosen each petal and sprig to make Mirei smile. Now, they lay somberly, words left unspoken, no familiar voice to reach across the distance and reassure her that she wasn't alone.
It was just her, in the stillness of the room. The only sounds were her quiet breaths and the faint rustle of her clothes as she hugged herself, feeling small, like a child lost in the cold. She hadn't told Mirei, hadn't replied to Risa and Yukina. She wasn't even sure she could bear to talk to anyone. Her mother was gone, leaving her in an empty house, a quiet that felt eternal.
Kaede's heart still ached, an ache that never seemed to fully fade. Losing her mother had been so sudden, like the ground was pulled from beneath her feet without warning, leaving her unmoored in a world suddenly too quiet. She missed the little things—the warmth of her mother's hand, her soft voice humming while she cooked, the gentle way she'd ruffle Kaede's hair whenever she passed by. It was as if the entire world had dulled in color the day her mother was gone. The memories would flood her, an overwhelming wave of longing and grief, and Kaede would feel a hollow emptiness that nothing else could fill. Yet in the quiet moments, she clung to those memories, letting them remind her of the love they shared and carrying them forward as a small, flickering light in the darkest corners of her heart.
---
Days drifted by in a haze. Kaede lay on her bed, eyes unfocused as she stared at the ceiling, her thoughts a constant cycle of confusion and regret. She kept thinking of the moments they shared—her mother's gentle voice, the way she'd make Kaede her favorite meals when she was feeling low, the shared smiles and quiet conversations. Now, the house felt suffocatingly empty, the walls echoing back memories she couldn't escape.
A notification chimed from her phone, piercing the silence. Mirei's name lit up the screen, her message cautious, a single question mark as if testing to see if Kaede was okay. The texts had been coming steadily, first asking if she'd missed the debut, then just checking in, seeking any sort of response.
Kaede's fingers trembled as she finally replied, simply typing: I'm fine.
The response was instant: Are you sure? Where are you now?
At home, she replied, trying to sound as normal as possible. Her fingers hesitated before pressing send, her heart heavy with the fear that if Mirei knew the truth, her kindness would only make Kaede break down. Beside she didn't want to be a burden to Mirei, especially at this important time of debut.
Then, the messages stopped, and Kaede sighed. Her thoughts wandered back to the ceiling, to the dull ache in her chest that refused to fade, until a faint ring echoed through her quiet home.
Startled, she sat up, her heart racing. Someone was outside, knocking persistently on her door. It was 11 p.m. Panic surged through her as she clutched a broomstick, throwing a cardboard box on her head in a desperate attempt at a helmet. She crept toward the door, each step careful, ready to swing if needed. She took a deep breath, counted to three, and yanked the door open, stick raised and helmet poised.
To her shock, standing in front of her, panting and flushed, was Mirei.
Mirei's eyes widened as she took in Kaede's makeshift defense, her expression caught between laughter and concern. Without hesitation, Mirei stepped forward, wrapping her arms around Kaede in a fierce, sudden hug. Kaede's cardboard "helmet" tumbled off, forgotten as Mirei held her tightly, the warmth and familiarity almost overwhelming.
"W-What are you doing here?" Kaede stammered, her voice muffled against Mirei's shoulder. She couldn't help but cling back, the relief breaking through her walls.
Mirei pulled back slightly, her eyes soft and searching. "I was worried. I knew something was wrong, so I came as soon as I could." She brushed a strand of hair from Kaede's face, her gaze gentle. "You don't have to pretend with me, Kaede. You can tell me anything."
For a moment, Kaede could barely speak, a lump forming in her throat. She'd held everything in for so long, keeping Mirei at a distance in her attempt to be strong, but now, with Mirei here, the weight of her loneliness started to dissolve.
"I... I didn't want to make you worry," Kaede whispered, her voice trembling. "I thought I could handle it on my own, but… I don't think I can."
Mirei cupped Kaede's face in her hands, her thumb brushing away the tear that had slipped down her cheek. "Then don't. You're allowed to lean on someone, Kaede. That's what I'm here for." She pulled her back into another embrace, holding her as if she'd never let go.
Kaede's heart pounded in her chest, the ache beginning to ease with Mirei's comforting presence. She buried her face in Mirei's shoulder, inhaling the familiar scent, feeling for the first time that she didn't have to carry her sorrow alone.
As they stood there, under the soft glow of the porch light, Kaede's heart filled with a strange mixture of sadness and solace. The grief was still there, lingering like a shadow, but with Mirei by her side, she felt a spark of strength igniting within her once more, the start of a hope she thought she'd lost.