Backstage, the noise of the award ceremony had died down, leaving only the faint echo of applause. The lights were dim, and a thin haze seemed to hang in the air. Arima Kana stood in a corner of the hall, her fingers wrapped around the cold surface of the trophy. Her gaze swept through the scattering of people before landing on Kurokawa Akane.
Why is she still here?
Kana sighed quietly. Akane’s presence was never surprising—whether in a crowd or in the things she said that always hit too close to home. She was like a mirror Kana couldn’t avoid. And today was no different.
“Kana-chan.” Akane leaned against the wall, her voice calm but cutting through the air like a blade. “When you talked about sharing the trophy with your mom on stage, your expression… it wasn’t the same as when you were little.”
Kana’s grip on the trophy tightened for a moment, the edge grazing her fingers. She lifted her head, meeting Akane’s steady gaze. “What was different?”
What was different? That smile on stage… even I barely recognized it.
She hadn’t thought much about what she said. It was a habit by now—always knowing the right words to say, the right smile to wear. But the moment she mentioned her mom, old memories clawed their way back to the surface. Memories she had buried, told herself weren’t worth revisiting or hoping for.
Akane took a small step forward, her movements silent on the carpet. “You don’t want her praise anymore, do you? That ‘sharing’ you mentioned… it sounded more like pity. Like you were saying—
‘Mom, I’ve made it this far, but this has nothing to do with you anymore.’”
Kana looked down at the trophy in her hands, her thumb brushing its base as if to wipe away invisible dust.
Pity? Maybe that’s exactly what it is.
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d smiled genuinely in front of her mom. From her days as a child star to the day her mom left, Kana had tried so hard but never got the words of approval she’d craved. Now, when she thought of her mom, all she felt was a quiet sense of release.
“You made me who I am today, but that’s all there is to it, Mom.”
The words stayed in her mind, unspoken. There was no need to say them out loud. She had accepted the truth a long time ago: her mom was her starting point, but she’d never be her destination.
“You’re always doing this,” Kana said, her voice even, though her fingers trembled slightly. “You’re always assuming things about other people.”
Akane tilted her head, her gaze steady and unflinching. “Am I wrong? You’ve known for a while she wouldn’t give you the love you wanted, so you let it go, didn’t you?”
Kana’s eyes dropped to her shadow on the floor, faintly swaying under the light.
Yeah, I gave up. But not because I was weak. I just realized it wasn’t worth it.
She didn’t expect her mom to be proud of her anymore. That tie had been cut when she moved out on her own in high school. Everything she worked for now wasn’t for her mom—it was for herself.
“Stop guessing,” she said, lifting her head with a faint, sharp smile.
But Akane’s gaze stayed on her, probing, peeling back the layers Kana didn’t want to expose.
What does she want from me?
The weight of the trophy in her hands suddenly felt heavier. She hated showing any weakness in front of Akane, but she could feel her defenses starting to crumble.
“And Kana-chan,” Akane said, her voice soft yet firm. “You haven’t really let go of Aqua-kun, have you?”
The words hit like a stone dropped into still water, sending ripples Kana couldn’t ignore. Her head snapped up, and she stared at Akane. “What are you talking about?”
Why bring him up now?
She wanted to dodge the name, but Akane’s words struck a nerve she couldn’t protect. The emotions she’d buried flooded back—pain, frustration, shame—all of it.
“Don’t mention him…” Her voice was low, almost pleading.
Akane’s gaze didn’t waver. “When Aqua-kun was with me, he played the part of the perfect boyfriend. But I could tell—he still had a place for you. The way he tried so hard to cut you off… If he really didn’t care, why would he go to such lengths?”
A place for me? That’s ridiculous.
She wanted to deny it, but her mind betrayed her, flashing back to that day. To the brief flicker of hurt in his eyes when she asked if he hated her as much as everyone else who had left her behind.
“No… it’s the opposite…”
The ghost of his words whispered in her mind, pulling at wounds she thought had healed.
No. I can’t think about this. I won’t let myself get pulled into this again.
“Enough!” Kana’s voice cracked, sharp and raw. Her chest heaved, the emotions inside her breaking through.
“What gives you the right to say this? What do you even know?”
Akane tilted her head slightly, her calm demeanor unshaken as she stripped away every defense Kana had left. “Even if you don’t want to admit it, I see it clearly. Just like when I told you to confess to him back then, I still believe it—you’re the only one who could make him turn back. I don’t know what happened between you two, but after he saw you, his expression changed. That look…”
She paused, choosing her words carefully. “It’s the look of someone who’s found a reason to keep living.”
The soft metallic sound of Kana’s finger tapping the trophy filled the silence. Something inside her cracked.
A reason to keep living? What’s that supposed to mean?
Her thoughts spiraled back to their promise. If he truly wanted to live, why didn’t he come to her graduation live? Why did he break the vow they made to stay alive?
She bit her lip, trying to keep the tears from falling, but her mask of indifference was slipping fast.
“Just stop,” she murmured, her voice heavy with exhaustion. “What’s the point of bringing this up now? It only makes it harder to forget him.”
A tear slid down her cheek. Kana lifted her hand to brush it away, but Akane gently caught her wrist.
“You already know, don’t you?” Akane’s voice was soft but unwavering, cutting through Kana’s defenses.
Kana closed her eyes, her chest rising and falling as if she were bracing for a blow she couldn’t avoid.
“Know what?” she rasped, her voice barely above a whisper.
Akane didn’t answer right away. She studied Kana, as if making sure she was ready for the truth.
Then, with a certainty that left no room for doubt, she said:
“You let go of your mom because you knew she couldn’t give you the love you wanted.
But you haven’t let go of Aqua-kun… because you know he loves you.”
Kana’s eyes flew open, her shoulders trembling. The words lit a fire she couldn’t put out, stirring hope and pain in equal measure. She wanted to argue, but instead, her voice came out shaky and unsure.
“So what?” she said, barely holding back tears. “You haven’t forgotten him either. What does that even prove?”
“It’s different.” Akane’s response was quiet but firm. “I don’t let someone else’s love—or the lack of it—define what I do. You, more than anyone, know that.”
Kana stared at her, words caught in her throat. Finally, she muttered, “You’re so weird.”
Akane let out a soft laugh, not mocking but gentle. “Maybe. But you still want to tell him about your award, don’t you?”
Kana froze. Her fingers tightened around the trophy again, her resolve slipping.
She wanted to deny it, but deep down, she knew it was true.
Yes, I want to tell him.
Even if he’s gone. Even if he’s just a memory now. She wanted him to know. Everything—their misunderstandings, her pain, her growth—it all tied back to him.
She thought of the vow that still glimmered faintly in her heart.
“I’ll become your star.”
The words echoed silently inside her, not just for Akane to hear but for herself—and for him.
“Watch me carefully.”
She would shine like the star she promised to be, even if he was no longer there to see it.
Kana lifted her head, a small, bittersweet smile forming on her lips. “I don’t need you to remind me—I’ll tell him.”
With that, she turned and walked toward the exit. Her shadow stretched long behind her under the light, but her shoulders straightened with each step. Her strides were steady, her gaze fixed ahead.
“Even if you can’t hear me, I’ll still say it out loud.”
Her thoughts settled with each step. Aqua had taken a part of her with him when he left, but he had also made her who she was.
Kana glanced at the trophy in her hand. Its cold touch didn’t feel as sharp anymore.
She would keep moving forward, carrying the weight of her longing, her acceptance of the past, and her resolve to shine—like a star in the sky. An actress who could smile even through tears: Arima Kana.