The next few days passed in a blur, each moment a painful reminder of the revelation that had turned Haruka's life upside down. She walked through the bustling streets of the city with her mind consumed by fragmented memories that flickered like ghostly images—moments she had buried deep within her mind, now clawing their way to the surface.
Haruka found herself standing at the edge of a park, a familiar spot from her childhood. The cherry blossom trees loomed over her, their petals dancing in the spring breeze, and she knew she had to revisit the place where she and Shizuku had made their childhood promise. It was under this very tree, long before the world had turned dark, that they had vowed to pursue their dreams together—two sisters united in their love for music and performance.
As she approached the old tree, Haruka's heart raced. Memories flooded back, vivid and poignant. She remembered the laughter they had shared, the way the petals had fallen around them like confetti on a celebration day. "We'll be a composer and an idol one day, Shizuku!" Haruka had declared, her eyes shining with hope and ambition. Shizuku had nodded eagerly, her enthusiasm infectious, her dark brown hair swaying as she bounced on her feet.
"Just like in our favourite stories!" Shizuku had exclaimed, her eyes wide with excitement. "We'll shine bright and make everyone happy!"
Yet now, the weight of those dreams felt heavier than ever. Haruka stood at the base of the tree, running her fingers over the rough bark as if it could ground her in the memories of innocence and joy. She could almost hear her sister's laughter echoing in the rustling leaves, urging her to remember the passion that had once ignited their spirits.
But alongside the warmth of those memories came the bitter sting of guilt. The dreams they had shared had been tainted by the cruel reality of life—Shizuku's illness, the cancer that had robbed her of the chance to dance, to perform, to truly live. Haruka felt a sharp pang in her chest, a mix of sorrow and regret that twisted like a knife.
Shizuku had always been the bright light in Haruka's life, full of dreams and aspirations despite her limitations. The way she had danced in their living room, despite the pain, had always been a testament to her spirit. "One day, I'll dance on stage with you, Haruka," Shizuku had promised, her voice a mixture of determination and hope. "You'll be the best composer ever, and I'll be the star of the show!"
But life had other plans, and the dark shadow of their father's abuse had shattered those dreams before they could fully bloom.
Sinking to the ground beneath the tree, Haruka let the tears flow freely. "I should have been there for you," she sobbed, her fingers digging into the grass as she felt the weight of her failure. "I should have protected you."
As the memories cascaded over her like a rushing river, she recalled days spent crafting songs together, creating melodies that danced like sunlight on water. They had shared everything—music, dreams, and the innocent joy of childhood. Their bond had been unbreakable, a connection forged through laughter and shared aspirations.
Haruka's thoughts spiralled back to the fateful night—the chaos, the terror. She had been so focused on hiding, on shielding herself from their father's wrath, that she had allowed Shizuku to stand in harm's way.
Tears slipped down her cheeks as she clutched her hands together, trying to quell the storm inside her. "I failed you," she whispered, her voice breaking. "I let you down."
But then, another memory surfaced—this time, of Shizuku sitting beside her, their fingers intertwined as they lay in their bedroom. "Promise me you'll always be there for me, Haruka," she had said, her voice soft yet earnest. "You're my big sister, and I trust you."
The memory pierced through Haruka's heart, igniting a spark of realization. Shizuku had looked up to her, had depended on her in ways she hadn't understood back then. The weight of that trust felt monumental, and the thought of having betrayed it twisted her insides.
"Shizuku," Haruka murmured, the name escaping her lips like a prayer. "I'm so sorry."
The park around her faded as her memories began to swirl, painting vivid pictures of their life together. She recalled the night they had camped in the living room, the blankets piled high and their mother's laughter echoing in the background. They had shared stories about magical creatures and far-off lands, imagining themselves as adventurers on a grand quest.
And then there were the more challenging times—days when their father had stormed through the house like a hurricane, filled with rage. Haruka had held Shizuku close, whispering reassurances while her heart raced in fear. She remembered the way her sister had clung to her, eyes wide with terror, seeking refuge in her embrace.
"I'll always protect you," Haruka had promised, but now that promise felt like a weight she couldn't bear. She had let her sister face the storm alone.
As the memories faded, Haruka found herself gasping for breath, her heart pounding in her chest. The truth twisted within her, a constant reminder of the burden she carried. The guilt felt insurmountable, a wall she couldn't scale. How could she reconcile the joyful moments with the haunting reality of Shizuku's absence?
Desperate for solace, Haruka returned home, her mind racing with thoughts of her sister and the memories that had resurfaced. She sat at her piano, fingers trembling above the keys, a soft melody tugging at her heart.
As she played, the music flowed through her, a river of emotion that mirrored the turmoil within. With each note, she poured out her love for Shizuku, the pain of her loss, and the regret of what could have been. It was a haunting piece, layered with sorrow yet infused with the beauty of cherished moments.
With every chord she struck, she felt the heaviness lift, if only slightly. The music became her sanctuary, a way to honour her sister's memory while confronting the guilt that threatened to consume her.
As the last note lingered in the air, Haruka closed her eyes, allowing the silence to envelop her. She could almost hear Shizuku's laughter, a distant echo of a life once lived. "You're not alone, Haruka," the memory seemed to whisper. "I'm always with you."
In that moment, Haruka realized that she could no longer live in the shadows of her memories. She had to step forward, to embrace the truth and honour her sister's spirit by becoming the protector she was meant to be. It wouldn't erase the guilt, but it could be a path to healing.
"I promise," she whispered into the quiet room, "I'll find a way to make this right. For you, Shizuku."
With newfound determination, Haruka wiped her tears and began to compose once more, the music flowing from her heart like a stream of light. It was time to reclaim her identity and transform her pain into something beautiful—a tribute to the sister she loved and a step toward the woman she was destined to become.