“Will it hurt?” A little girl asked, her legs dangling off the train seat as her mother knelt before her, bringing them both to equal height, the appeasing gaze of the mother all the notion needed to guess her comforting intentions.

It was a Tuesday afternoon, mellow and calm with its wintery clouds above, the cold preferring to cling to metals like copper and steel rather than the travelling minds of men and women alike, wrapped up warm to ward away the loitering gale.

The train rumbled and shook side-to-side all while it continued tracing the tracks above Minato City as it voyaged through oceans of concrete skyline, far more confined than the seas, yet with but a fraction of the beauty.

So why could I never look away? This view of life vastly more consuming than anything else I have ever seen.

“Maybe, but you’ll have to be brave either way.” The mother cooed, kind and loving, her words having no need of a coat to be warm.

Her hand held a small white napkin, while her eyes held her daughter’s teary stare. The girl had one of her tights rolled down, her knee exposed with a small red gash upon it, clearly a result of a tumble onto the pavement from a playtime a tad too energetic.

Nao sat next to me, her idle look focused on the passing city buildings that fell away and were replaced on this moving backdrop only visible from a racing train cart. Occasionally her hand slipped into her bag and removed her phone, a quick tap and it’d light up, her eyes glancing down to check the time before returning to the outside world.

We were on the way to Shinjuku, our timetables for Ha:Yami having matched up for the night. This wasn’t the first time we’d gone together since I started living with her, but it was the first time we’d taken public transport together.

She refused to take her white classic sports car to work, instead borrowing her dad’s car for the trip. It was something about preservation, or not wanting to risk it getting scratched in the car park, which was definitely a possibility considering I’d seen it happen, but that meant it left her in an awkward spot whenever her dad needed his car for the afternoon, just as he did today.

“I can be brave…” The little girl declared, her face firm in its words, yet her eyes told a different story. However, that did not mean they were not brave; fear does not nullify bravery, if anything, it is fear that makes an action brave.

Her mother smiled, preparing to bring the small napkin onto the wound to clean it. To an adult, this act of bravery was nothing, barely comparable to the trials and tribulations of day-to-day life, but to a child, this was her dragon, and she was St. George readying for the battle.

I wonder if my mother was ever as kind as this?

She could copy the movements, and have the smile practised to near perfection. Everything set up and built with a foundation, not of brick or stone, but of lies- of misaligned love.

An act that would rival even Kaede Esumi’s stage work. Performed for no audience but those around us, to showcase how much of a loving mother she was; that her family was nothing less than ideal.

But was it ever kindness? The care a mother offers a daughter…

Or was it really just an act, another thread of her manipulation stitched into my skin, attached to a marionette bar that danced and swayed with every movement of her controlling hand.

Was I brave too? For having survived it all, for escaping away? For having found myself, piecing the void sundered remains of my life together to finally be me at last?

I hope I was… even if it's just a little… I think I deserve that; a recognition of my bravery. Even if that bravery resulted in a lie so thorough that it suffocated the truth and created a void of a person; yet there are no regrets. Even if I am a half-finished puzzle of a woman trying to use acting to fill the last traces of this void; it is better this way.

It has to be.

“I know.” The mother smiled again, more soothing than a blanket, and with far more cosiness than a heater. “Hold still, you have to bear it for only a moment.”

“Hurry up! I’m ready…” The girl cried out, her fear of the pain even more prepared than the battleplans of Alexander the Great as he matched against the Persians, the anticipation of the touch made worse thanks to the active imagination of a child who expects it to be an agony rivalling the most grievous of wounds, even when it won’t be.

The mother suddenly pointed down the carriage, her tone purposely exaggerated and played up, “Look! A magic girl!” She declared, prompting her daughter to jump in delight and forget all about the cut on her knee, “Where! Where!” She eagerly asked, falling for the ploy of her mother, who immediately reacted and brought down the sanitised wipe with a swift movement, ridding the cut of its dirt in record time.

“Ouch!” The daughter startled, turning back to look at her mother with betrayal plastered over her face, “You tricked me.” She accused with a pout, to which her mother simply gave another smile, picked herself off the floor, and sat in the seat next to her child.

“There there, it's all over now.” She calmed, embracing her daughter in a hug, though it seemed more like she was using the hug to move along the potential tantrum that was brewing, and once she saw it wasn’t working, she used her secret weapon, “We’ll get some ice cream after this, ok?”

“Ok.” The girl relented, the idea of ice cream more favourable than revenge for this betrayal of trust, even if it was all done for her sake, but faulting a child for lacking perception is unfair.

“All good, Seina?” Nao asked with confusion interlaced within her words, the sudden speech catching me off-guard and surprising me ever so slightly.

My gaze switched from the mother-daughter pair to her, and I hummed a questioning tone, wondering why she asked such a thing.

“Oh, you appeared a little lost in thought, that’s all.” She clarified with a curious voice, then settled her eyes on the pair much the same as I had done but a second ago, “I get it, though. It reminds me of my mother too.” She continued, somehow both understanding, yet completely misinterpreting my thoughts of the pair.

It wasn’t her fault, few people would recognise that my stare wasn’t a reminiscing stroll down the memory lane of my childhood, but a questioning glance that asks why wasn’t my childhood like this in the first place?

“I was her favourite,” She continued with a slight curve of her lips, her thoughts a tad more inward than focused on my reaction, “Then my younger brother found a wife and had a baby. So annoying; now every phone call we have ends with her asking if I have a boyfriend or not, ‘When am I getting grandkids from you, Nao’, or something like, ‘I had you when I was twenty-four,’” She paused, shaking off the genuine annoyance and replacing it with gratitude, “I love her lots, but you can’t tell her that. Still, a tiny bit of space would be nice.”

“Is your mother that determined for you to get a boyfriend?” I asked, having experienced the complete opposite with my own, though I suppose I was a lot younger than Nao when she was last in my life.

Yet she’s still here now, in every action I do, every thought made, and every idea formed. Always in the back of my mind, should you be doing that? Did I give permission for that? I don’t remember telling you to do such a thing?

But I’m doing it regardless, this puddle I’ve already leapt into.

“I know, it might seem a little tedious, and it is, honestly. But moms get like that as you grow up, I think she’s worried I’ll struggle to find a partner because of work. Most people are a little put off about dating a hostess,” She leaned in closer to whisper, her tone purposely similar to a schoolgirl’s as she joked, “They think it's like budget sex work!”

Outwardly, I offered a smile to her jest, though my mind was still on her sentiments surrounding her mother.

Is that how mothers are supposed to be? Nao’s complaining, but there is fondness there, not a worry or fear that ignoring her mother’s demands would result in a pain with more bite and sting than a sanitised wipe on an open wound could ever have. It's almost like it's a joke between them, some playful act where they push and pull each other safe in the knowledge that the familial love that ties them together won’t break so easily.

“Is your mother usually like that?” I asked.

Nao’s eyes met mine, leaving the mother-daughter pair to their own show. She was surprised at my question, but I think that’s more because her words were meant as a rant spurred on by this expressway of memory lane, rather than a back-and-forth conversation.

“It's my brother’s fault, really.” She mused with practised blaming, “He brought his newborn to the New Year festival last year, my mother’s been obsessed ever since. It's going to be worse this year,” She halted, “Seina, I’m an aunt.” She declared as if it was a sudden revelation and not something she should have figured out back when the baby was born.

“Huh?” I replied, blindsided by why this was a shock to her.

“My younger brother is a dad, and I’m an aunt…” She continued, glossing over my confusion. “I swear it feels like yesterday when he was asking me for dating advice, now he’s married and I’m still here.” Finishing that sombre thought, she rapidly discarded it and sat up straighter. Her head cleared itself in a moment and her voice switched to a chirper tone, a bubbly and cutesy smile replacing all traces of her previous emotions.

“Ou, I forgot to mention it earlier, but me and Mikako have plans this weekend. You remember when I invited you to that café in Shimokitazawa? Welllllll~, we never went in the end, but we’re gonna try again this weekend, maybe go out shopping after drinks, pick up some new oldy kimonos for the New Year festival. Mikako has been complaining about putting on some weight, so she wants a new one in case her current one doesn’t fit- Ah, haha, don’t tell her I said that though, promises?” She concluded, a false guilty look on her face that was closer to a playful tease, no doubt Mikako cared little for the gained weight, which was why Nao was making light of it.

Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

The café she was talking about was Samishii Café, the one that I ended up going to while debating what answer to give Hatsuko roughly four weeks ago on that Saturday morning. It was the first week of practising for the play, and I spent it watching two friends argue, before finally ringing up Hatsuko to agree to her proposal.

“I can’t-”

“Ahhh, again?” Nao cut me off, “We live together and you’re still too busy to do anything fun… let me guess, you’re doing the same thing you did last weekend? Actually, what did you do last weekend, or is it a secret?”

“I acted?”

Why did I sound so unsure of myself? Because my performance was lacking heavily? Or perhaps it was because I was weary of connecting my life at Ha:Yami to the one at Hanako Hall, but Nao has already passed the point of just being a workplace friend, hasn’t she?

So what’s the reason? Truthfully, it's rather obvious when I put even the smallest amount of thought into it.

I don’t see myself as an actress.

That bead of doubt that exists within me that perhaps I don’t deserve this.

I want to be an actress. I strive to be one. But am I currently one? No, so to say I acted… It feels like a lie, even if it's a truth I’ve embraced and will continue to embrace.

Regardless of whether I deserve this or not, I want it. And that is enough.

That is all I need, all anyone really needs.

So I condemn this doubt of mine, for whatever that is worth; I will be selfish in my desires, the pursuit of this goal.

“The next station is Yoyogi, Yoyogi. The doors on the left side will open.” The train announcement rang out, the sudden interruption highlighting Nao’s wordless response held in her questioning eyes rather than any speech, clearly begging for an explanation for my vague words.

“I do acting, with this acting trope at a place called Hanako Hall. It's nothing major, and there’s little money involved. But it's an opportunity for me, I’m one of the two leads for the play. It was the fourth week of practice last weekend, so we’re halfway through rehearsals.” My words came to a stop in sync with the train, the next stop was ours at Shinjuku Station, yet it all felt so far away at this moment.

This conversation was almost a total reversal from yesterday. Where Emiko, the sister I perceive her to be, explained her reasonings to me, her desires and needs, all leading towards the forest that is the acting world.

I remember it well, her tone of finality as she stated, I have to be an actress, and I have to be beside the stage.

Perhaps it wasn’t exactly like that, the meaning was the same though. Her voice hitched up a pitch, not cracking or shaking as she spoke, sudden almost in its rigidness, but steadfast in intention.

And now I’m in the same position as her, explaining why I have to do this. There is no other choice, and I know there never will be.

This shouldn’t be anything unusual, we’re sisters, after all. Being in similar positions is part of the role, and like her, I have to be an actress.

Not even a black hole could consume this desire, endless as it is that a void would be filled by it.

“Nao, I have to be an actress. Its-”

A second pause, Nao’s eyes remained locked with mine. Close to black in the shade of her hazel hair, the train’s overhead light trying its best to illuminate us, but falling far too short in the dimness of this conversation.

The mother and daughter pair stood up, quickly exiting alongside the rest of the carriage’s passengers, all blending in as one as individualism faded away and was replaced by another crowd of humanity.

I was distracting myself again, the world stealing my attention the moment words became frightful little shards of glass stuck in my throat, the child I have always been too afraid to say what she desires out loud as if the mere sin of wanting something is tantamount to Cain killing Abel.

It was different with Hatsuko, she was similar to me. An equal, someone I had no qualms with telling the truth to, the calming knowledge that she is a liar, every bit as scarred as I am, and thus has no grounds to cast the first stone.

And Emiko? Well… with her I was merely returning the favour. There was no risk of it being thrown back at me as both of our hearts were bared, my sister and I offering trust without reservation, but with Nao…

Who is Nao? There are many things I could say, but one stands out above all.

She is greater than me. A better person in all ways.

So to tell her the truth… it's a weakness, one easily used against me; wielded as a weapon far more pointed than even my family name.

But… is this not the price of friendship?

To love with all of one’s heart, and to be loved back freely.

Even if love itself is a bit confusing to me, I still understand companionship… or at least I’m trying to.

“-the first thing I’ve ever wanted.”

The doors of the carriage slid shut, and the train resumed its rumbling journey towards Shinjuku Station.

She smiled, cheery and bubbly. No falsehoods, judgement, or casted stone, or pointed daggers to be seen.

It was merely a smile. One that said, without doubt, or second thought, I am glad.

It was a proudness; a type of pride that rejected its designation as a sin and instead bloomed no different to a flower in spring, bright and welcoming in its colours.

“That’s a good reason.” She stated as a mathematician grades a paper, logical and understanding in all things, “What’s the play about?”

There were so many answers I could give to that question, but I settled on the simplest of them all.

The one I was in the midst of growing my understanding of with each passing day.

“A pair of sisters.”

One of more love than fear, the other of more fear than love.

“You’ll invite me when the time comes, right?” She asked it as a question, but it was one in which the answer was already plainly obvious.

“If you’d like to come, then of course. It's in January, shortly after the New Year festival.”

Nao enthusiastically nodded, “Ok, send me the details and I’ll be there. Maybe I’ll see if Mikako wants a seat, if that’s okay with you?” She asked with a tilt of her head, genuinely wondering if I wanted to let Mikako know about my acting.

“Could you ask me again closer to the date?” I replied as a compromise to an offer not even given.

“That’s fine, I know you and Mikako aren’t as close. So I won’t say a thing unless you ask me to.”

I smiled as a return to her understanding, though I gave little else away with my expression. I wanted to keep Ha:Yami separate from Hanako Hall. I had every intention to replace one for the other, so mixing the two of them felt wrong.

And as for Mikako, I barely knew her as little more than Nao’s friend. Sure, she could be nice at times, but the shared thread between us is just work and Nao, and she has always seemed more distant especially compared to Nao who couldn’t seem to stay away even when I pushed her.

“The next station is Shinjuku, Shinjuku. The doors on the left side will open.” The train announcement buzzed, the break in our conversation all it needed to relay the coming of our final stop.

Nao hopped up, checking her bag was fastened to its strap and that she had collected all her belongings, though other than the bag it was just her phone tucked up tightly in her pocket.

“Ah- we’re here.” She stated the obvious with a perception that surely had to have been critically acclaimed, “Quicker than driving,” She dropped that comment after checking the time on her phone.

“Oh,” I hummed while standing up to join her. “Are you warming up to public transport?”

“Never! I prefer the American way.” She declared with mocking bravado, clearly making light of herself.

“You drive a Japanese car, how is that American?” I retorted with none of the bite, our stroll out of the carriage and onto the clean platform was done jointly and with little issue as we swiped open the barrier doors blocking the station’s exit with our IC card.

“Yeah, but it's one of their favourites.” Her laugh came out as a giggle that landed somewhere between a brag and a tease.

“That’s such a Nao thing to say.” I sighed with a purposeful exaggeration.

She slapped my arm playfully, her face of shock so well performed I almost gave her Hatsuko’s number on the spot, “Hey! What are you saying?”

But she wouldn’t deserve something that cruel, would she?

“Nothing, but maybe this is why you still haven’t gotten a boyfriend?” It's the usual tease, one that Mikako occasionally drops, and that even Nao sometimes uses to make light of herself. An easy jest bred from familiarity, no offence to be found for as long as it remains home-grown.

“A low blow! I didn’t expect this from you, Seina. Now I’m so sad I might cry,” Her words were counter to the beaming smile on her face, mixed in with something close to… relief? It was hard to make it out, either way, it was dreadfully easy to fall into step with her personality. I knew it was on purpose, I had seen her do similar things with Mikako, setting herself up to be the butt of a joke, trying her best to appease her wants and desires, and making her feel welcomed and relaxed in all things.

I didn’t understand the reasons, but… it would be amiss to say it was unwelcome.

It was refreshing, being in the presence of someone who seemed to enjoy rivalling the sun in radiance.

“Besides~” She continued, a jump in her pitch, “I already have my eye on a partner!”

“Oh? And who is this lucky man?” Another jest, obvious from the comedic way she lays her hand atop her heart as if she’s keeping this mystery man close and buried away inside it like this is a mid-tier romance movie.

“I'm not saying!” She concluded, and though she didn’t exactly wink, it sure felt like she did as another cherry on top of this continued self-mocking.

I traded a smile to her jokes, and the two of us continued in a more subdued manner as we slipped in between faces and crowds alike as we navigated the neon-painted streets of Shinjuku.

The main street welcomed us as long-travelled pilgrims returning from the journey. Its bustling music levitated over the crowds in rhythms of bumps and bops, the neon ran up and down the at-ease buildings like vines illuminated in every colour of the rainbow, and more.

There was no civil nor discivil servant working together hand-in-hand to be seen. The time was too unaccommodating for such a sight, and the circumstances lacked the catalyst of a rushing soon-to-be father.

It didn’t take away from the atmosphere, though. Electric and tense, every move assigned a price tag, a smile for a drink, a banknote for a dance, a night for rejuvenation.

Expensive only if someone isn’t looking to spend, but the price of relief is often fair compared to the hardships of the week. And even if it's only the second day of a new week, that sole Monday could hold pains equal to a whole year if a person is unlucky.

However, to experience pain is to experience life, and one could argue that that is a type of luckiness all on its own.

Ha:Yami soon came into view. It was no surprise, how could it be? A building cannot grow legs and move, it was always going to be here, and we were always going to come here.

Matte black, sleek modernism edges that cut where they should have rounded. A set of boxes stacked and inlay into each other, that single alleyway that ran down its side and connected to the parking lot in the back. That bright yellow street light above it, the side door opposite, with the small orange neon sign of the Ha:Yami fixed on high and resting atop, far smaller than the one above the main entrance.

Familiarity, a sense of nostalgia for a place I come to almost every day. Bitter-tasting and uncanny; I’m reminiscing for a place I haven’t left, a time that I still live within.

Though for how much longer, I do not know, but it is drawing nearer with every scene I perform.

And there will be one such performance tonight, a repeat of a play acted every time I walk through these doors, no longer done with the skills or faces of Seina, but of my own.

-of an actress.