(don't worry u have a modern phone, its just for the aesthetics ùwú)
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THE DOOR CLOSES WITH A SMALL CLICK AS I PUSHED IT BEHIND ME WITH MY SHOULDER. My mother slammed her keys onto the counter and hefted a heavy sigh.

I silently followed my mother to the living room, glancing nervously every so often to check if she would throw a punch at me out of the blue. She gestured for me to sit down on one of the many luxurious, non-vegan-friendly leather chairs, to which I quickly obeyed.

I placed myself anxiously onto the chair, small hairs down my back stood up upon feeling the daggers shooting from her eyes. I kept myself busy, competing in an intense stare down with a plastic, decorative apple on a golden rimmed plate. I have never, once in my life, known of its existence until to this day, yet I have never been more grateful in my life.

This went on for quite a while, my mother glaring at me and I staring at the apple. It went on for so long, I swear my armpits were wet enough to overfill a swimming pool.

I could've easily won the contest if it wasn't for my mother's sudden outburst.

"I'm really disappointed." she sighed.

Ok, I may or may not have exaggerated on the outburst part, but it made me jump out from my non-existent shoes nonetheless.

Ever since we departed early from school, my mother hadn't commented on anything, even throughout the whole car ride. I knew that it was possibly because she technically couldn't, as she was still in public, but now that we're at home, she's way calmer than I expected her to be. And she doesn't seem as agitated as I thought she would act either.

I glanced up and finally gave her a sign that I was attentive to what she would say next, hinting her to continue her lecture. I wouldn't have ever guessed in my life for what would hit me in the next few minutes of my life.

"I give up,' she declared, "You're free to go."

At first, I was ultimately confused. Where is the harsh training? The loud yellings? Had she already made me blackout on the way here, and I'm just hallucinating? What does she mean by 'giving up'? Should I be concerned?

My face must've shown exactly what I was feeling as my mother decided to explain without a proper response.

"I understand you can't be perfect, I'll give up on my silly dream." A glimmer of tears slid down from her cheekbone as she glanced back down to her interlaced fingers and sniffled.

It was then that it clicked to me. She was talking about the promise.

The creases of my dirtied skirt tangled within the grasp of my fingers, I glared at one of the pillows situated behind my mother so hard, my eyes began to burn. Though I don't know if it was because of that, or the tears that threatened to fall right then and there.

This isn't something that she'd just simply "give up" on. We had discussed this multiple times, and I haven't even thought of the idea to just put all the work to waste. This isn't like her, at all. This wasn't the mother that I knew.

"No mother, I'm sorry for what happened today, I'll fulfill the promise, don't worry." I reassured.

"It's not that," she sighed," sometimes no matter how hard you try, it's just set that you're not capable enough to do it. I thought if I was strict on you and trained you well, you could overcome that. But look at where you are."

"Forget about the promise and just don't get into any deeper trouble."

I shook my head. "No mother, this isn't just for you, it's also for me, to improve. Be the next number one hero, remember?" I asked.

"Y/N, this isn't an impulsive decision that I have just made. I, too, am reluctant to just throw all of our effort away. I have thought long and hard Y/N." she said. "If you want to redeem yourself, train on your own terms, I'll think about it before you go to highschool."

She stood up from her seat and began her way upstairs to her studio, leaving me to my own accords in the living room, alone.

And that's it. No more trainings, and no more arguments.

Later that evening, the public took the news into the spotlight, and like we expected, it spread like wildfire. It was impossible for either of us to leave the house without a swarm of reporters shoving mics into our faces for the next couple months, and having no other options, I was stuck at home until the news became cold and got drowned by some other shenanigans. I wouldn't be missing much of school anyways so my mother didn't bother to hire a tutor.

I would say life is more peaceful, but really, I think the word is lonely.

Though I still trained, I find myself clueless to what I should do to improve. My progress hadn't declined, but it hadn't advanced either. Gradually, I took more and more breaks in between, and more and more guilt began to pile off one another.

Why can't I improve? Why can't I be good enough? Why can't I meet my mother's minimal expectations? Why am I such a disappointment?

I am such a burden.

My mother deserves a better daughter than me.

Just like any other night, I was stuck at home with no one but myself, finding myself constantly suffocating in an endlessly deep pool of guilt and regret. Not only did I cause a huge ruckus that no one asked for, I also disappointed the only person whom I cared for and even caused a hassle for them to clean up.

As I continued to dive mindlessly into the depths of my thoughts, a soft, cute ringtone chimed throughout my lifeless room. 'Who the fuck decided that it was a good idea to call me at 2 a.m in the morning.'

Groggily, I reached out towards my bedside table blindlessly for my phone, swepting onto the surface, and flipping my pinky nail in the process. 'Fuck!'

I sat up and opened my eyes, adjusting to the darkness to find my phone, the ringtone growing more and more obnoxious with each passing second. 'Who would even call me anyway?'

Finally bumping my hand to the familiar rectangular device, I pulled out the charger and tapped on the screen.

Thanks to earlier me, I had used my phone outside in the blinding sun, which had caused me to pull my brightness all the way up.

I squinted my eyes and fluttered my eyelashes 100x a second, seeing nothing but white. 'I think I just turned blind.'

Quickly turning the brightness down, I froze seeing that it was my mother who called me. 'Why would she call me at a time like this? I thought she was home already.'

I quickly swiped right to accept the call and pulled the phone towards my ear.

"Hey, sweetie?"

"Yes, mother?" I hesitantly answered. "Are you alright? Do you need me right now?"

"No,I'm fine ,sweetie," She assured. "I"ll be working overseas."

"...May I ask why?" 'Are you going to leave me too?'

"I'm going to climb up the ranks in America." she declared.

"But aren't you already the best artist here in Japan?" I asked, genuinely confused. "Why America too?"

"No..." she chuckled, "as a hero." she replied enthusiastically. Which was a surprise, I've never heard my mother so happy before.

I knew why she chose America, she would be starting off with a clean slate, away from all the drama that had been going on. I respect her decision, but doesn't she understand that then, I wouldn't be able to prove her of my worth before highschool.

"...oh, ok."

"You won't have to move, I'll give you the money expenses for the house and groceries, so no worries okay?", she said," You would have a weekly allowance of 100,000¥ (roughly around 100 US dollars) for anything extra you need."

"Okay. Wait, you're already at the airport I'm assuming?" I questioned.

"Yes I am," she confirmed, "the plane will arrive soon."

"When..."

I didn't even get to properly see her off. My posture wilted, sinking into my bed sheets. I felt as if a searing red-hot, blunt knife forced its way to gauge into my chest. 'And now I'm actually alone.'

"Hurry sweetie, I have to go soon." she urged.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and willed my voice to not stutter. "When will you be back?"

"...I'll check back on you before highschool, I promise you that." she sounded hesitant. "Please don't make me disappointed when I do. I really want you to show me what you're capable of. Prove me wrong, okay?"

"I will mother." I vowed.

"Alright, bye sweetie."

Ding. The call ended.

That night. I cried myself to sleep.

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1507 words

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