Chapter 30 – Under the Same Sky

The outdoor shoot was scheduled near the riverbank, where the city softened into open sky and long stretches of green. It was early morning, the kind where sunlight felt gentle instead of demanding. The crew moved quietly, setting up cameras and reflectors, their voices low, as if instinctively respecting the calm.

Aiko arrived first.

She wore a simple cream cardigan over the costume dress, hair loosely tied. The breeze played with a few strands near her face. She looked lighter today. Not healed, not fixed, but steadier. As if something inside her had finally found ground to stand on.

Then she saw Mai.

Mai was sitting on a folding chair, swinging her legs, holding a juice box with both hands. When she spotted Aiko, her face brightened instantly.

“Aiko!”

She jumped down and ran, stopping just short of crashing into her. Remembering, at the last second, that Aiko was still injured.

Aiko laughed softly. “Good morning.”

Mai looked her over carefully. “You look better.”

“I am,” Aiko said honestly. “Because I slept well.”

Mai nodded, satisfied, and slipped her small hand into Aiko’s without asking.

No one told her to do it.

It just felt natural.

Across the set, Yuji stood quietly near the catering truck. He wore a plain jacket, hands in his pockets, watching them from a distance. He hadn’t planned to smile.

But it happened anyway.

He told himself it was only because Mai looked happy.

Only because she was laughing.

Only because she was safe.

Not because Aiko was standing there beside her, bending down to listen, brushing dirt off her knees with gentle fingers.

Not because, for a moment, they looked like something that could have been a family.

The director called for rehearsal.

The scene was simple. A mother and daughter walking by the river, talking about nothing important. Ordinary things. The kind of conversations that mattered later.

“Action.”

Aiko and Mai walked slowly along the path, gravel crunching softly under their steps.

“Does your arm hurt?” Mai asked, staying close.

“A little,” Aiko replied. “But it’s okay.”

“You’re strong,” Mai said seriously. “Like the mom in the drama.”

Aiko smiled. “I’m learning from her.”

Mai stopped near the railing, looking out at the water. “Do you think people change?”

Aiko blinked. “Why do you ask?”

Mai shrugged. “Dad says people don’t always mean to hurt others. Sometimes they’re just scared.”

Yuji felt the words reach him even from where he stood.

Aiko crouched beside Mai. “I think people can change,” she said carefully. “But only if they face the truth.”

Mai thought about that. “Then I hope everyone gets brave.”

“Cut.”

The director nodded, pleased. “Good. Very natural. Let’s take a short break.”

Mai immediately grabbed Aiko’s hand again. “Can we sit over there?”

They moved toward the grass, away from the equipment. Someone laid out a blanket. Mai kicked off her shoes and sat cross-legged, patting the space beside her.

Aiko sat down slowly, careful of her shoulder.

Mai pulled out two candies from her pocket. “I saved one for you.”

Aiko accepted it like it was something precious. “Thank you.”

They sat there, unwrapping candy, watching clouds drift lazily overhead.

“What do you want to be when you grow up?” Aiko asked.

Mai didn’t answer right away. “Can I have more than one answer?”

“Of course.”

“I want to be strong,” Mai said. “And kind. And… someone who doesn’t leave.”

Aiko’s chest tightened.

“I think you already are,” she said quietly.

Mai leaned against her side, head resting lightly against Aiko’s arm. It was an unconscious movement. Easy. Trusting.

Aiko didn’t move.

She was afraid if she did, the moment would break.

From across the field, Yuji watched.

Rin stood beside him, arms crossed. “You’re quiet.”

Yuji nodded. “She looks… happy.”

Rin glanced over. “So does Aiko.”

Yuji exhaled slowly. “I know.”

He didn’t say more.

He didn’t say how strange it felt to see them together and not feel anger for once.

He didn’t say how the knot in his chest loosened when Mai laughed.

He didn’t say that, for the first time, the past didn’t feel like it was choking him.

Later, during another take, the script called for Aiko’s character to kneel and tie the child’s shoelace.

Aiko hesitated for half a second.

Mai noticed. She bent down herself. “I can do it.”

Aiko shook her head gently. “Let me.”

She tied the lace carefully, fingers slow but sure. When she finished, Mai clapped softly.

“Perfect.”

Aiko laughed. “High praise.”

The director wiped his eyes discreetly. “Keep that energy.”

By afternoon, the shoot wrapped early.

Mai ran up to Yuji, arms open. “Dad!”

He knelt automatically, catching her. “Did you have fun?”

Mai nodded enthusiastically. “A lot. Aiko stayed with me the whole time.”

Yuji looked up.

Aiko stood a few steps away, unsure, hands clasped in front of her.

“…Thank you,” Yuji said quietly.

Aiko nodded. “She was wonderful.”

Mai looked between them, then smiled. “Can we all walk together for a bit?”

The question hung in the air.

Yuji hesitated.

Then he said, “Okay.”

They walked along the river path as the sun dipped lower, casting long shadows. No one spoke much. They didn’t need to.

Mai walked between them, holding both their hands.

Yuji felt her warmth. Her weight. Her presence.

Aiko felt it too.

For a moment, just one moment, the world didn’t ask them to decide anything.

They were simply there.

Under the same sky.

And Yuji realized something quietly, without fear.

He was happy.

Not because everything was resolved.

But because his daughter was smiling.

And that was enough.