Mika's Defeat

Seeing Aoi at the bakery that night forced me to face the facts that had been tormenting me for the past couple of weeks, or maybe that I knew all along. My voice wasn’t enough to make someone listen for reasons other than pity. My songs weren’t anything but generic love songs, and my chords were something a first year guitar player could pick up and strum randomly. I had spent so much time and energy learning something that seemed like it had led nowhere, confirmed by a random passerby that merely felt sorry for me. My online channel also had no views, with perhaps the only ones being from me, making sure I didn’t upload the wrong thing. In the end I was just a lonely girl, singing into the emptiness of the night.

What am I even doing here in Tokyo? I thought to myself as I walked back home from the bakery. I took a glance at the sushi vendor near the train station as I walked back home. I still hadn’t cashed in on my mom’s offer to spoil myself for dinner. My 10,000 yen bill was also still unspent, and a painful reminder of that night. While I was considering buying some dinner, the clerk recognized me.

“Ah, how are you doing? Say hi to your mother for me,” he said kindly.

“Sure. I will...” A half baked smile came out as I tried to reply. Even if I didn’t look directly at him, I could feel his expression towards me changing.

“Listen, your mother has always been very kind to me. Why don’t you take some sushi for the both of you tonight?”

“I’m sorry I… already made dinner for tonight,” I replied with a bow.

“Ah what a shame, next time then.” The clerk was still smiling. No doubt he was feeling sorry for me. I couldn’t accept his burning kindness, not tonight. And his pity was even worse. I walked away politely, empty handed.

I made my way back home soon after. The humid heat seemed suffocating, warmer than usual. I stood in front of our apartment’s door, hesitant to enter. I couldn’t face my mom like this; there was no way I could hide it from her. I braced myself for the inevitable questions as I walked in.

I saw my mom watching TV while drinking something to cool down. It was her way of unwinding after work, and the only chance she had to relax. She was watching a news article about tourism or something of the sort.

“Welcome home, Mika!” she greeted me, smiling. Once again, someone’s warmth felt like it burned that night.

“Hi Mom,” I said with a deflated tone. No doubt she’ll catch this one.

“Have you seen this girl before? They say she has a popular video channel,” she said, pointing at the TV. I looked at the TV and noticed a cute girl with her hair dyed blonde, giving an interview of how she wanted to promote tourism and Japanese culture. “She’s been all around the country and does so much, isn’t that amazing for someone your age?” 

“Well you can do a lot when you have all that time and money,” I answered, somewhat irritated by the comparison, even though my mom didn't mean to compare.

“Have you heard of this Eiko girl?” She kept insisting on the topic.

“Doesn’t sound familiar,” I answered as I withdrew to my room. The name was vaguely familiar, but it was too vague in my memories and I didn’t care much about celebrities or what they did. I had other things to worry about. They had little to do with us. My mom understood that I needed some space and backed off after that, as I hid in my room in the dark.

The half light that filled my small room soon filled me with doubts as well. I grabbed my guitar and strummed weakly. The chords barely came out as I gripped my guitar far too lightly. I looked at my fingers, with the callouses formed throughout the years, and questioned why I had spent so much time for something that made me suffer so much. Why do I pursue something so futile?

Why were we even in Tokyo? I had come with my mom over from the countryside so we could live here while I studied. She didn’t think twice when I asked for help. I couldn’t manage to get into any music school. I didn’t get accepted into the big public universities either, and ended up in a small private one, studying something unrelated to music. But after all this, I just don’t see a future. A small part of me, deep in my heart, wanted to come here so I could pursue my passion, but it seems my skills simply led nowhere. The feeling of failure was slowly dragging me down, trying to drown me, making every step feel like I was going to get sucked into the earth.

At that moment, my mom walked towards my room and called from behind the door.

“Mika are you alright?” she asked. I gave her silence in return. A few moments passed before she spoke again. “I’m coming in, is that alright?” After I offered no response, she let herself in. She walked a few steps up to me and simply hugged me. “What’s wrong?”

Her warmth, her hug, squeezed a couple of tears out of me.

“I haven’t seen you go out to play lately, is everything fine?” she asked. She knew exactly what was bothering me. It’s frustrating how little I could hide from my mother.

“I’ve just… been busy Mom,” I answered, with my voice breaking up.

“Busy for music? You’re our songbird, you’ve always cheered up our household with your humming, whistling, and singing,” she said kindly, “I won’t ever let you give up on that, it’s who you are.”

“It wasn’t enough to…”

“Some things aren’t meant to be, Mika. But your music has always been a part of you. No matter how big and scary this city is, you won’t ever be able to hide that side of you, so keep working hard at it.” My mom knew exactly what to say, and while logic agreed with her, my feelings found it impossible to.