Grumble Melody

Fading but Blooming

"Ugh, it's not perfect!" Ena said as she slammed her artwork on the floor. The vibrant colors of her painting splattered across the hardwood, a chaotic mix of blues and oranges that seemed to capture the turbulent storm raging inside her. She had been working on this piece for what felt like an eternity, pouring every ounce of her emotions into it, and now it was a mess.

The room was dimly lit, the only light coming from a small table lamp that cast shadows across her face. The atmosphere felt heavy with unspoken words and unfulfilled dreams. "Why can't I be like my Dad? It's not fair..." Ena's voice cracked, barely a whisper. She looked up, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. The painting, now a mess of colors and streaks, lay before her, a reflection of the turmoil she felt inside. She sat there for a moment, staring at the splattered artwork, her mind a maelstrom of emotions. Her father, an artist renowned for his breathtaking landscapes, had always been the standard she held herself to. Akito knocked on her room door, his voice cautious yet filled with concern. "Ena, are you alright? I could hear you from downstairs."

Ena's eyes widened, and she quickly wiped away the tears that had begun to fall. She didn't want to be seen like this. "Yeah, I'm fine, Akito. Just... just give me a minute." Her voice was trembling, and she hoped he couldn't hear the slight quiver in her tone. "You always said that, Sis." Akito's voice carried a mixture of frustration and empathy as he leaned against the doorframe, his eyes softening. "You know, I've been thinking. Maybe you don't have to be like Dad. Maybe you're better at something else. Maybe... you just need to find what that is."

Ena sighed, her shoulders dropping. She wasn't sure if she wanted to hear his words or brush them off. "I don't know, Akito." Akito stepped into the room, his presence a calming influence despite the chaos around him. "I know it's hard, Ena. But you can't compare yourself to him all the time. You have your own talents, your own path. Why don't you try something new for once? It might help you find what you're looking for."

Ena shook her head, frustration and hopelessness settling over her. "I don't have anything else." Akito's face softened, and he stepped closer, placing a hand gently on her shoulder. "That's not true, Ena. You have so many talents, talents that could be honed and nurtured. Why don't we try something together? We can start with something small, something you're curious about. Maybe it'll lead you to something bigger."

Ena's eyes searched Akito's face for any sign of insincerity. "But I don't enjoy sports like you, I want to go to a prestigious school for me to pursue my dreams of becoming an artist." Akito's gaze softened, understanding the depth of Ena's desire. "I know, Ena. And I'm not suggesting you give up on your dreams. I just think you might find that your passion for art is different from what you've been trying. Maybe you need to explore other mediums, other styles. Maybe there's more to your talent than just painting."

Ena's eyes narrowed, her mind racing. "But what if I'm not good at anything else?" Her inconsideration to his views only made him angry. Akito's eyes hardened, and he stepped back, his hand dropping from Ena's shoulder. "That's not fair, Ena. You're always so quick to assume the worst about yourself. Everyone has strengths and weaknesses. Even Dad wasn't always great at everything he did. He struggled with portraits, you know. But he kept trying, and he found his niche. Maybe you just need to find your niche too." Ena looked away, the sting of his words hitting her like a cold breeze. She couldn't deny the truth in his words, but it was hard to accept. She stood up, trying to brush off the frustration, and began to tidy up the scattered paint. "I guess you're right," she muttered, though her tone was still uncertain. "I just don't want to disappoint Dad."

Akito sighed, frustration evident in his voice. "Well I don't, I play soccer. We can be anything other than our parents." Akito's words lingered in the air, the truth of his statement hanging heavily between them. Ena nodded, though her gaze remained fixed on the paint-splattered floor. She knew Akito was right, but the pressure of living up to her father's legacy was suffocating.