Side Story 1: — "Failed Reconnection..."

The apartment was quiet that night. The streetlights painted soft yellow stripes across the walls, and the faint hum of traffic below buzzed like white noise. Poyo and Mochi were tucked against the couch, their slow, rhythmic breathing filling the silence.

I sat cross-legged on the floor, my phone glowing faintly in my hands. My thumb hovered over the FaceTime button, trembling. It was stupid how nervous I felt. My stomach twisted, my throat dry.

It’s just a call, I told myself. Just a call to say hi. That’s all.

But it wasn’t just a call. It had been years since I’d last seen her face, since she left Japan and moved to the U.S., leaving me behind with Dad. After he passed, she didn’t even come back for the funeral. She’d sent flowers and a short message through someone else. Nothing more.

And yet, here I was, sitting in the dark, hoping she’d answer.

I took a deep breath and pressed the button. The screen flickered, and the sound of ringing filled the room.

Once.
Twice.
Three times.

Then... click.

Her face appeared.

For a moment, I froze. She looked… the same. Maybe a little older, her hair shorter and lighter now. But her smile was practiced, polite, like the kind she used to give to strangers.

“Hanae?” she said, her voice faint through the tiny speaker.

“Hi, Mom,” I whispered. My chest tightened. “It’s… it’s been a while.”

She nodded, hesitating. “Yes… yes, it has.” Her smile wavered slightly. “You’ve grown.”

“I guess,” I said softly. There was a small pause before I added, “I just wanted to talk. It’s been so long… I thought maybe… I could come visit you sometime?”

Her eyes flickered, something unreadable flashing across them. Before she could answer, there was a sound offscreen, a child’s giggle, bright and clear.

Then another voice.
Two, actually.

“Mommy! Mommy! Who are you talking to?”

My breath caught. The words hit harder than they should have.

My mother turned quickly, voice suddenly sweet and soft. “Oh, nothing, girls. Just... a friend, okay? Go play with your dad.”

Dad?

A man’s voice echoed faintly from somewhere nearby. “Honey, who’s that?”

My blood went cold.

I watched her smile nervously, glancing back at the screen. “Just… someone I used to know. I’ll be right there.” She turned back to me, her face shifting to something tight and uneasy.

“Mom…” My voice cracked. “Who… who was that?”

She sighed. “Hanae, I didn’t mean for you to hear that. Look, I—”

“You have kids?” I blurted, the words trembling. “You’re married?”

“Hanae, please, it’s… complicated.”

“Complicated?” I repeated. “You left me here. You left me after Dad died and just... moved on?!”

Her face hardened. “Watch your tone, Hanae.”

“No!” I shouted, tears already pooling in my eyes. “You can’t just pretend nothing happened! You left me alone! You didn’t come back, you didn’t even call!”

She glanced over her shoulder. “Not now,” she muttered, then stood, the camera wobbling as she moved. I could see her walking down a hallway, bright walls, family photos blurred by motion. She closed a door behind her, muffling the background noise.

Now it was just her face, framed by warm light. But her voice had lost whatever softness it had before.

“Hanae, listen to me. I didn’t answer because I thought it would be better this way.”

“Better?” I said, my voice shaking. “Better for who? For you?”

Her eyes dropped for a moment. “I had to move on. After your father… things were hard. I met someone. We have children now.”

I couldn’t breathe. Every word felt like a small knife twisting deeper.

“So you replaced us,” I whispered.

“No,” she said sharply. “I started over. That’s different.”

I laughed bitterly, the sound raw and broken. “You didn’t start over, Mom. You ran away.”

Her expression turned cold. “That’s enough.”

“You never even told him about me, did you?” I asked quietly. “He doesn’t know you already had a daughter.”

Silence.

That was all the answer I needed.

Something inside me cracked. “You’re ashamed of me.”

“No,” she said quickly, too quickly. “That’s not—”

“Then why?!” I yelled, tears streaming freely down my face now. “Why did you never call? Why did you never come back? Why did you leave me all alone, pretending I didn’t exist while you played house with someone else?”

Her expression shifted to something sharp and defensive. “You don’t understand, Hanae! I had to survive. I had to build a life here. You were fine in Japan... your father took care of you.”

“My father’s dead!” I screamed. “And you didn’t even come to his funeral!”

Her face flinched for just a second, but then hardened again. “That was years ago. You can’t keep clinging to the past.”

My hands shook so violently I nearly dropped the phone. “Clinging to the past? You’re my mother!”

She inhaled slowly, eyes narrowing. “Listen to me Hanae. Stop calling me. Don’t contact me ever again. It’s better for everyone.”

My stomach dropped. “Better for everyone… or just better for you?”

She hesitated for a moment, then said quietly, “Goodbye.”

And the screen went black.

I stared at my reflection in the dark glass, stunned. Then my hand went slack. The phone slipped from my fingers and hit the carpet with a soft thud.

The silence that followed was suffocating.

My body started trembling before I even realized I was crying. My knees drew up to my chest as sobs tore out of me uncontrollably. All those years of waiting, of hoping she’d still think of me, of imagining some kind of reunion, it was all gone.

Poyo stirred on the couch, sensing the sound. It blinked, then slowly rolled over, soft and glossy in the dim light.

“Hanaena…?” it tried, its small voice wobbly and uncertain.

Mochi followed, its little blue body wobbling across the floor. “Mochi…” it murmured softly, almost like it was trying to comfort her.

I didn’t respond. I just hugged my knees tighter, burying my face between them. My chest hurt, my throat burned.

Poyo pressed against my side gently, warm and soft. Mochi squished in beside it, making a low, sad sound. Their little forms were trembling, trying their best to comfort me even though they didn’t understand why I was crying.

The only sounds in the room were my shaky breathing and the soft, wet noises of the two slimes pressing closer.

After a while, I managed a whisper. “She… she really moved on…”

The words dissolved into a quiet sob.

Poyo let out a soft, drawn-out “Poyooo…” and rested its body against my hand. Mochi copied it, curling against my sleeve.

I felt their tiny warmth through the tears, the shaking, the emptiness. Somehow, that simple weight of them sitting beside me kept me from falling apart completely.

For a long time, none of us moved.

Just the quiet hum of the city outside.
Just the glow of the dark screen on the floor.
Just me... and the two little beings that hadn’t left.

And as my tears slowed, I whispered, almost to myself, “Thank you…”

Poyo wobbled faintly in response.
Mochi let out a sleepy, soft “Mochi…”

The room stayed quiet again, but this time, the silence didn’t feel quite as lonely.