The Tale of Hera Hikaru

|Chapter Twenty-seven| |A Girl's Grief|

As dusk settled over Lunara, Hera sat in the quiet of her room, fingers gripping a small knife. The day's events replayed in her mind, her mother's harsh words still ringing in her ears. Yuki's disdain had been painfully clear: Hera was an unwanted reminder of her father, a ghost from a past her mother wanted to bury. But what hurt the most was seeing how differently Yuki treated her brothers. Taro and Ren never received such anger; they didn't feel the edge of her mother's resentment. Hera's mother's smiles for them were genuine, and her encouragement constant. Why did she only see disappointment when she looked at her daughter?

Maybe if I were more like them, if I could remind her less of him... The thought took root and grew, filling Hera with a desperate, almost frantic need. Her hand trembled as she held the knife up to her hair, but her determination hardened. Maybe this is the answer. If I can look more like Taro and Ren, she might see me differently. Hera started cutting, each lock falling to the floor with a soft thud. Her heart raced, each snip bringing a strange sense of relief, as if with every strand, she was shedding the part of her that her mother couldn't bear.

The once long, dark strands pooled around her feet, and her reflection began to change. Shorter hair framed her face, bringing out a rawness in her features she hadn't noticed before. When she finally looked up, she barely recognized herself. A new hope sparked within her. Maybe now, she'll see someone worthy of her love.

Hera took a shaky breath, willing herself to believe in this transformation. She clenched her fists, imagining the look of surprise on her mother's face, imagining Yuki finally seeing her differently—not as a reminder of what she'd lost but as someone she could embrace, even if only a little. Hera's heart swelled with hope, and for a moment, it drowned out the hurt and the doubt. Tomorrow, she would show her mother her new look, her new self, and maybe, just maybe, Yuki's heart would soften.

With that thought, Hera lay down, clutching the small glimmer of hope close to her chest, whispering a silent wish for her mother's acceptance. And as she closed her eyes, she imagined Yuki's arms around her, imagined feeling the warmth of the love she'd craved for so long.

The morning light streamed into Hera's room as she woke up, feeling a glimmer of hope, believing that maybe today, her mother would finally see her in a new light. She carefully chose her outfit, wanting to look different, thinking that perhaps this change would help her mother appreciate her more. She picked out a yellow sweater with a white star on it, pairing it with black plaid pants instead of her usual green sweater with a white star, black plaid skirt, and long black socks. It was a simple change, but in her mind, it felt like a step toward something her mother would finally notice.

After dressing, she hesitated before walking into the kitchen, her heart pounding with nervous anticipation. She took a deep breath, hoping that maybe—just maybe—this new look would make her mother proud. But as soon as Yuki laid eyes on her, her face contorted in immediate disdain.

"What did you do to yourself?" Yuki's voice was sharp, filled with disgust as she looked Hera up and down.

Hera's stomach twisted, her earlier hope crumbling under her mother's harsh gaze. "I... I thought you'd like it," she mumbled, her voice barely above a whisper.

Yuki's lips curled into a sneer. "Like it? You look like a boy! Why would you think this would be acceptable?"

Hera's hands clenched into fists, trying to hold back tears. "I just thought... maybe you'd see me differently."

Yuki rolled her eyes, shaking her head in disbelief. "See you differently? No boy is going to want a girl who looks like that. You cut your hair, dressed like that... Do you even understand what you've done to yourself?"