Haruka

Jun studied her, the faintest crease forming between his brows. Oshiro... Okinawa... Family incident... It sounded familiar to him. He dug through his memories until something suddenly surfaced. "Are you a twin by any chance?"

Akari froze. Her heart pounding in her ears, grip tightening around the cup. Her voice shook but she forced it out. "I was..."

-----

Laughter echoed through the narrow hallways and spilled out into the backyard, where the cicadas sung underneath the sun of Okinawa.

The twins were inseparable. Mirrors of each other in every way except for the light they carried - wavy black hair, crystal blue eyes, and delicate smiles that shimmered with their hopes.

Hikari shone effortlessly, the kind of girl who waved at strangers, danced barefoot in the rain, and dreamed of singing on a grand stage one day. She'd hold her hairbrush like a microphone and sing out songs until her voice cracked.

Haruka was the quieter reflection - watching, listening, smiling when no one else did. She preferred reading books or watching nature grow to people and crowds.

If Hikari was sunlight, Haruka was the gentle dusk that followed, and Hikari adored her older sister for it.

"When I grow up, I'm going to be the biggest star, just you wait Haruka!" Hikari proudly announced.

"What will you do once you're a star?" Haruka quietly asked.

"I'll dye my hair pink! Don't you think it'll suit me?!"

Haruka smiled and nodded in approval of her little sister's dream.

"You don't talk much." Hikari said as she took a seat next to Haruka. "But that's okay. I can talk for both of us!"

Haruka never minded. She liked listening to Hikari talk and dream.

"Don't you have any dreams, Haruka?" Hikari asked curiously.

Haruka looked up, deep in thought. "I never really thought about it... I guess if I had to choose then I want a big garden in the countryside..."

"Huh?! That's so simple." Hikari looped their pinkies together. "Promise me you'll watch me become a star, okay? And once I make it, I'll get you the biggest garden ever!"

Haruka laughed as she reciprocated the pinky promise.

Their mother, Miu, worked part-time at a local cafe, always coming home with sweet bread or leftover pastries. Their father, Yuta, worked construction - strong and dependable. He'd lift both girls onto his shoulders and carry them down to the beach after dinner, all of them laughing under the orange-pink sky.

It wasn't a rich life, but it was enough. It was home.

-

The change came quietly.

At first, it was small things - late nights, empty beer cans, quiet arguments through the walls.

Yuta had lost his job after the construction company went under.

"It's just for a while." Miu encouraged. "We'll manage."

But the "while" stretched on.

Yuta searched for work, but jobs were scarce and competition too fierce. The bills piled up. Miu picked up extra shifts, her hands raw from dish soap and desperation.

Miu did her best to earn and protect her children from the reality.

Hikari still smiled and sang. Her light unaffected by the chaos slowly unfolding. But Haruka started to notice how their mother flinched at loud noises, how her smiles looked too forced, how their father came home later and later - the smell of alcohol clinging to his clothes and temper where patience used to be.

-

By the time the twins turned twelve, home no longer felt safe.

Yuta spent his days gambling whatever money he could grab a hold of, in desperate attempts to flip the situation around, only to be met with rage and a growing debt. He couldn't face his failures, so he drowned himself in alcohol night after night, giving in to the suppressed anger.

Their mother tried to keep it together - made breakfast every morning, prepared lunches, took the girls out to the beach, all with bandaged bruises hidden under layers of clothes.

When money eventually ran out, not even enough for food, Miu made a decision.

Late at night, after the twins fell asleep and her husband passed out, she would work at a bar in the neighboring town. It wasn't something she was proud of, but she didn't feel she had any other choice - they had to survive.

One night, Haruka woke up and saw her mother leaving. Out of panic, she ran after her, grabbing hold of her clothes.

Miu forced a smile and crouched down to meet her daughter's eyes. "Don't worry, I'll be back. Trust me and don't tell anyone, okay?"

Haruka nodded as she watched her mother leave into the night.

She stayed quiet.

She always stayed quiet.

But secrets have a way of festering.

-

Months later, their father sat at the table, drunk and seething. The clocked ticked past 4:00am, but their mother was nowhere to be found.

Rain drummed against the windows, steady and cold. The air reeked of cigarette smoke and cheap liquor.

Yuta entered the girl’s bedroom. His footsteps crossed the room, uneven, menacing. He grabbed Haruka by her hair, yanking her out of bed before she could even scream. Her feet dragged across the floor as he hauled her down the narrow hallway into the main room.

"Where is she?" He growled. "Where is your mother?"

Haruka froze. She didn't answer. She promised to stay silent.

"I asked you a question." His voice rose, echoing his anger.

Her breath hitched, her scalp burning where he held her. She shook her head, tears already spilling. "I-I don't know..."

He slammed her down, bottles on the table rattling from the impact.

"You think you can protect her? You think I don't know what she's been doing?" He staggered forward, his breath hot and sour. "Everyone in this town has been whispering behind my back - laughing at me!"

He grabbed a bottle from the table, throwing it against the wall. The sound tore through the entire house like thunder. Haruka scrambled backward, the broken glass scattering on the floor.

"Papa, please-"

"Shut up!" Yuta's arm raised, another bottle in hand.

"Papa, stop!"

Hikari's voice.

She stood at the other end of the room, her face pale, eyes wide, brain not comprehending why this was happening.

"Papa, what are you doing?" She cried as she rushed forward, fear overpowering reasoning.

Yuta turned, startled by the sudden movement.

Haruka reached out instinctively. "Hikari, wait-"

The shove came too hard, too fast - fueled by drunken anger and panic. Hikari stumbled backward, her foot catching broken glass. She fell - the back of her head striking the corner of the table with a sickening crack.

The sound silenced everything.

Haruka blinked, the world blurring through her tears. Hikari lay on the floor, motionless. Her head rested at an unnatural angle, blood spreading slowly beneath her hair.

Haruka crawled to her, gently shaking her shoulder. "Hikari...?"

Nothing.

Yuta froze, eyes wide, color drained from his face, bottle slipped from his hand - shattering on the floor. "What have you done?"

-

The rain didn't stop for days after Hikari's death, as if the sun itself was grieving the loss of the bright light.

The neighbors whispered. The police came and went. A short investigation concluded as inconclusive due to lack of evidence. All that followed were condolences and the dull hum of pity.

Yuta continued to drown himself in alcohol, even more than before. Perhaps out of guilt. Or maybe denial.

-

The funeral was small - Haruka, her mother, and a few pitying neighbors.

The white chrysanthemums seemed too bright and too cruelly alive in contrast to Haruka's world.

Miu stared at Hikari's photo on the alter surrounded by the layers of flowers. Hikari's smile - bright, carefree, full of hope and life - stared back from behind the glass, destined to be frozen forever.

Haruka stood a few feet behind her mother. Her mother hadn't looked at her once since that night.

Not once.

When the guests left and the final prayer was said, Miu finally turned. Eyes red, swollen, hollow, but behind them something shifted - a strange, brittle clarity.

She reached out, brushing Haruka's cheek with a hand that felt both tender and unsteady.

"You're still here." Her voice cracked on the words. "My little girl... You're still here."

Haruka nodded, not sure what to do or say.

Miu pulled Haruka in, holding on to her gentle but firm. Her breath shaking. "I won't lose another..." She murmured, barely audible.

-

That night, Haruka woke to the sound of her mother packing bags, counting cash, and burning papers in the sink.

Her mother was no longer crying. The grief was gone, replaced by something sharper.

"Mama?"

Miu turned. "I have all your stuff. Let's go." Her voice quiet but stern.

Haruka didn't question her mother and simply followed.

That night they left, leaving behind their house full of memories and the hopes and dreams that were born there.

-

For two years after Hikari's death, Haruka and her mother lived quietly on the far side of Okinawa. They found a small, crumbling apartment near the docks - mold growing in the corner, a leaky sink, and walls thin enough to hear the sea breathing outside.

Her mother worked anywhere that would take her - cleaning guesthouses, washing dishes, serving drinks at a bar. She came home exhausted, hands raw from work, but she always smiled for Haruka.

"It's not forever." She would constantly say. "Just until I can save enough."

It wasn't pleasant or easy, but it was life. They were surviving. Some nights, Haruka even believed they could start over.

Then, one day, her mother saw him.

Yuta - thinner, meaner, his eyes red and wild. He was in the market, showing pictures to shopkeepers, his voice carrying in the wind. "Have you seen them? My wife and daughter?"

The color drained from Miu's face. Without a word, she turned and rushed home.

Miu burst through the door of the small apartment, chest heaving. "Haruka, grab your bags. Now."

Haruka didn't ask why. She'd learned not to. She quickly grabbed her already packed bags and followed her mother through the narrow streets towards the docks.

The ferry was already preparing to leave, its whistle cutting through the dusk.

Miu placed money into Haruka's hand. "Get on that boat and don't look back."

"What about you?" Haruka's voice trembled. "Aren't you coming?"

Her mother smiled - the same soft, tried smile she always wore. She placed a kiss on her daughter's forehead before pulling her in for a hug. "I'll be right behind you. I promise."

The dockhand was shouting, urging passengers aboard.

Her mother pushed her forward. "Go on."

"Mama-"

"Go."

The force in her voice broke something inside Haruka.

She hesitated up the ramp as the ferry horn blared. By the time she turned around, the boat was already moving. Her mother stood on the pier, small against the darkening sky - watching, waving, smiling.

And then she was gone.

That was the last time Haruka ever saw her.

-----

"I waited for my mother for a week." Akari said quietly, her voice trembling with memory. "I kept hoping she really was behind me. But when she never showed, I realized I was all on my own from that point on..."

She drew a slow, steady breath. "That's my story and that's who I really am..."

Jun stayed silent for a long moment, letting her words settle between them. "Is that why you're so determined to be successful? For your sister?"

"She died in my place. The least I can do is fulfill her dream." Akari smiled - melancholic, fragile - a smile heavy with surrender, destined to haunt the heart that witnessed it.