The Tale of Hera Hikaru

|Chapter Twenty-four| |Not The Same|

The sun was just beginning to cast a warm glow over the fields outside when Hera heard her mother's voice calling from the kitchen.

"Hera, make breakfast for your brothers," Yuki's tone was brisk, a faint slur woven into her words as she poured herself a morning glass of whiskey.

Hera nodded, her usual energy dimmed. She focused on her task, quietly preparing a simple breakfast of rice, eggs, and grilled vegetables. She served her brothers, who ate gratefully, exchanging smiles with her. Yuki, however, took small bites, her expression one of indifference as she sipped her drink.

When everyone was finished, Hera collected the plates, setting them in the sink to wash. Her brothers excused themselves to train, giving her a reassuring pat on the back before heading out the door.

Hera began washing the dishes, moving quickly as her thoughts drifted back to the memories of Suki, trying to find some calm in the rhythm of her work. She accidentally spilled some water on the counter and turned to grab a towel when suddenly, a sharp sting burned across her cheek. Her mother's hand, still raised from the slap, trembled slightly.

"Is this the best you can do?" Yuki spat, her voice cold and bitter. "Can you even do anything right?"

Hera's heart sank, and her hand went to her cheek, feeling the heat where her mother's hand had struck her.

"You're a failure, just like your father was," Yuki continued, her voice a low hiss. "You were lucky even to make it home at all."

The words hit Hera like blows, each one sinking deeper into her already wounded heart. She felt her eyes sting with tears, but she forced herself to hold them back, choking down the sob that rose in her throat.

"I'm sorry, Mother," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Yuki scoffed, taking another long sip of her whiskey. "Whatever. Just go clean the house, since that seems to be all you're good for."

Hera nodded silently, lowering her head as she went to grab a cloth. She tried to steel herself, to push down the ache in her chest, but the weight of her mother's words lingered, pressing against her heart as she moved through the house, doing as she was told.

As she worked, she clutched Suki's pendant around her neck, finding some solace in the reminder that she wasn't entirely alone. The warmth of the gem grounded her, a small reminder that, even if she felt unloved here, someone else had cherished her deeply.

With each task she completed, Hera's resolve grew—though her mother's words hurt deeply, she wouldn't let them define her.

As Hera continued cleaning, scrubbing every surface to a shine, she heard her mother approaching. Yuki's footsteps were slow and deliberate as she entered the room, the air thick with her usual disinterest. Hera didn't look up, hoping to avoid further conflict, her hands busy with a cloth as she wiped down the counters.

"I'm going out," Yuki announced, her voice curt and clipped. "This house better be spotless when I get back."

Hera kept her gaze lowered and nodded, focusing on a stubborn stain as her mother's words hung heavily in the air. Yuki didn't linger to watch; she turned and left without another word, the door clicking shut behind her.

As the hours ticked by, Hera worked tirelessly, wiping down surfaces, dusting every shelf, organizing and re-organizing until everything looked pristine. She tried to focus on the tasks, finding a sense of calm in the small accomplishments of order, but her mind drifted to thoughts of Suki, her family, and the life she once knew before the world had shifted beneath her.

Night fell, the sky outside turning from twilight to darkness, but still, Yuki did not return. Hera moved on to scrubbing the floors, the repetitive movements distracting her from the empty feeling gnawing inside her. The house was eerily silent, and with each passing hour, she felt the loneliness weigh down even more.