CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT – VOICES TO BE HEARD (MoniKenta)
The sophomore named Ami Chujo swallowed anxiously, her eyes glancing at the notes in her hand fleetingly with a mixture of fear and attempted focus. "Along with the other findings our team h-has found regarding the topic," she stammered, "there were also c-conducted surveys that reveal that more than seventy percent of the parents chosen as respondents s-still approve of the concept of more h-hands-on learning for elementary school pupils instead of utilizing g-gadgets such as cellphones and computers, a-and . . ."
But at that, her voice faltered, and again she snuck a peek at her notes, her face turning pink as she became more conscious about how much time she was spending. Monika regarded her patiently from the podium where she stood with Takeo, the two of them serving as the adjudicators to the mock debate that was happening.
"Okay, we went through this before, Ami," she told Ami, perusing her own papers for a moment, taking note of the arguments being made. "Just find that zone that you had earlier, okay? You did great before, don't worry!"
Ami shifted where she stood, her face turning pink as her nerves began to fail her. Next to her, her teammates looked rather relieved that it was not yet their turn to speak from their side. Given that both sides only had a few minutes each to deliver their arguments, it was quite a difficult job trying to perfect the delivery without overshooting the timekeeper by more than a few seconds every time. Monika smiled at her underlings encouragingly, but Takeo looked rather bored as he stood next to her. Still, looks could always be deceiving, and Monika could sense his impatience at the screw-ups and delays growing. He had yet to shift into his usual overbearing demeanor to put everyone in their place, but Monika was keen on keeping things under her control before she'd let Takeo's harsh approach derail the club's morale for the day, especially when they were close to wrapping things up.
"I-I'll try, Miss Monika," Ami stammered. "I'm sorry f-for stuttering during my delivery there. . ."
"That's okay, that's what we're here for. To curb that stage fright and get it all running smoothly," said Monika.
"And of course, a bit more effort from your parts wouldn't hurt," Takeo chimed in curtly.
Ami recoiled visibly at that. "I'm s-sorry, Sir Takeo."
"That's alright, Ami," Monika interjected before her vice president could say anything else. She waved at the mock timekeeper next to the podium, signaling him to pause his stopwatch and put the debate on hold. "Takeo's right in a sense, however," she continued, glancing around at the rest of the club. "As much as I don't want to pressure you all, it's important that we reach top form as soon as possible. You guys have your research nailed down perfectly already, but the delivery is where we really need to shine. I understand that the nationals are a whole lot different from the practice we're having right now. That's why Takeo and I are being more serious with how we're addressing your arguments and sides, and why we're switching topics every week instead of every two weeks. The adjudicators at Todai won't be too keen on hearing anything less than sound arguments and precise diction regardless of what they'll give us. We take care of that, and we'll be able to take on whatever topic they'll give us."
But in the end, in spite of the mixture of encouragement and realistic truth that Monika was giving, their hour-long mock debate reached only a passable level as it concluded around ten minutes later, less than what the nationals would expect from them at this point. Shaken by the decline in their performances, the rest of the debaters delivered their sides with more than a few peeks at their notes and a number of restarts as they failed to articulate their sentences properly without sounding too informal. Knowing that she had pushed everyone to their limit for the day, Monika called for a wrap-up and began giving everyone their next assignments.
"Alright, we're staying with this topic until Saturday, so that's when we'll have our last mock debate for it," she expounded as they gathered around the clubroom's main table. "I understand that there's a faculty event this coming Friday and the school's closing down for it early, so the clubroom won't be available then. Make sure you take the time to research and add a bit more information and points to your respective sides, okay? That won't hurt. Saturday will also be the last time Takeo and I will stand in as adjudicators. Starting next week, you will be taking turns presiding over the mock debates. Takeo feels that it will help you guys understand how to spot your side's weak points better, plus it'll help you write up your counterarguments more fluently. Make sure you check your e-mails tonight, since Ichika informed me earlier that she'll be sending the list of new topics that have been chosen and approved by Takeo. As usual, any research you make goes through Hayase, who'll then send it to me. Clear?"
In spite of their average effort earlier, the club members still seemed determined as they responded, "Yes, Miss Monika."
"Good," said Monika with a nod. "Oh, and one last thing. Try coordinating with each other via group chat to schedule who will be adjudicating. Make sure you all get a turn, okay? No one gets skipped, no one sneaks past. You all need to adjudicate at least twice before the nationals."
"Yes, Miss Monika," came the repeated routine answer.
"Alright, that'll be all for today. We'll see you tomorrow after class, as usual. Good work, everyone!"
Obviously, "good work" was not the best way to describe the above-average results of the club's meeting, but Monika knew that a bit more reassurance was always needed to keep her junior members' determination and confidence boosted for them to stay on track with the grueling pace of the road to the nationals. And even so, she took a sterner approach every once in a while, if only to bring out that edge that faltering members needed and temper their efforts further. Takeo, of course, would simply rely on being stern without openly commending any of the efforts made when they did pass the standards he'd often set.
In ten minutes, the clubroom had been emptied as everyone took off with their own batches of friends; even Takeo seemingly left early after picking up his things, leaving with his entourage of fellow senior club members. As always, Monika was the last to go, making sure that no notes or belongings were left behind right before she locked up the clubroom. When everything seemed clear, she exited the room and locked up, but that was when she noticed someone standing right next to her outside in the hallway.
"Ami? You're still here?"
The raven-haired sophomore walked timidly forward, clutching her books against her chest in a defensive manner. Compared to most of the other junior members, Monika knew her rather well given that she formed up part of the main debate team and had competed alongside her and Takeo before.
"I was w-wondering if I could talk to you for a moment, Miss Monika," said Ami reluctantly.
"Oh, sure thing! Where are your friends, though?"
"T-They're waiting for me outside."
"Oh, I see. Alright then, let's talk while we go downstairs."
She gestured at Ami, and the two of them walked down the corridor towards the stairs.
"I just w-wanted to apologize for my mistakes earlier, Miss Monika," Ami stammered as they went, her eyes looking doleful from beneath her spectacles. "I didn't expect to just bog d-down like that. I don't know what came over me. . ."
Monika gave her a motherly smile. "Ami, it's alright. There's nothing to apologize for."
Ami's lip trembled a little. "I'm just scared that . . . t-that I'll mess up again, and it'll put the team behind schedule like what happened last time."
"Like I said, that's why we're practicing in order to curb those mistakes and ensure that they won't happen again," said Monika earnestly. "Besides, these things happen, even when you think they won't. And I know you'll do better in our next practice session."
"B-But Takeo . . ." At that, Ami hesitated, as if speaking out their vice president's name would cause him to appear from out of nowhere with another criticism to make towards her. Monika sighed, feeling chagrined that Takeo's high standards were still causing their junior members to turn out like this; Ami was not the first member to talk to her out of the blue like this in order to gravely apologize for a failed effort, as if they had done Monika a great personal wrong.
"I know how severe Takeo can be," she told Ami as they went down the stairs, "and I understand his sentiments, even if I don't always agree with his approach. His criticisms don't always sound constructive, after all. When that happens, just treat it as you would any of the points that you listen to in any debate; acknowledge, analyze what needs to be addressed, and tackle. And just remember that in spite of how strict Takeo is, what he wants is what I also want for the club—to win the nationals at long last, and we can't do that without you guys."
Nervously, Ami nodded. "I understand, M-Miss Monika."
Again, Monika smiled at her. "Good. And if you feel like you're not cut out for it, just remember that the club's past efforts were instrumental in giving us yet another shot at the nationals in the first place. We all made that happen. Not just me, not just Takeo, not just the primary team, but all of us. With everyone in line and working together, we'll be able to do our best, and then . . . we'll see if we can finally bring that title home with us."
Soon, the two of them reached the ground floor, walking down the hallway to the school's entrance. "Just practice some more at home when you can, alright?" she told Ami as they went. "Hopefully we'll be able to ace this topic at last and get a bit of a breather before the next one comes."
"I will, Miss Monika," replied Ami, her stress from earlier now almost entirely replaced by determination and relief.
"Good." Standing next to the school's front doors now, Monika glanced outside for a moment before turning back towards her. "Anyway, I need to go on home now. Don't want to keep your friends waiting for you. Is there anything else you want to tell me?"
This time, Ami managed to smile. "We never really manage to tell you this enough, b-but . . . thank you for being a good leader to us, Miss Monika. Everyone in the club knows that, n-not just me. A-At first, we were pretty scared because of how it felt like we were just not in the same league as you or Sir Takeo, b-but we're glad that you're very open and patient with us, and that you even hang out with us from time to time, even if we're just freshmen or sophomores."
Her pale blue eyes glowed with reluctant admiration, as if she was addressing an older sibling that she idolized. And in a lot of ways, being that older sibling was how Monika interacted with Ami, Ichika and the other club members. In spite of the tiring days where practices didn't seem to go well and Takeo constantly had a chip on his shoulder, Monika always wanted to treat everyone with the same respect and openness she would show her other friends, letting them know that she was like them in a lot of ways, and not just a celebrity who sat out of reach on a pedestal. A rush of warmth coursed through her as she felt grateful for Ami's decision to treat her as the former instead of the latter, without any of the pretension or sucking-up that some people in the past had shown.
"Takeo is a good leader too," Monika pointed out in a joking tone.
"Ah, of c-course he is!" said Ami, looking agitated all of a sudden. "I didn't mean to . . . W-What I meant is, er . . ."
"It's okay, I get what you were trying to say," said Monika genially, not wanting to dampen the sentiment behind the sophomore's words any further. "Thank you, Ami. I really appreciate that."
Ami inclined her head politely, her smile returning. "I'll just see you tomorrow. A-Again, thank you for your time, Miss Monika."
"Alright. Take care!" said Monika in return.
With that, Ami hurried out towards the doors, joining her friends who were waiting close to the main gate. Monika watched her go for a moment before she exited the school herself, feeling grateful that such a brief encounter helped relieve the tiredness that she often felt nowadays. Walking down the pathway towards the main gate, she looked idly around, glancing at the few students that remained on the school grounds. Not for the first time in the past week, she found herself wishing that Kenta was around, but Monika was sure that he was already on his way home. The two of them only had brief encounters from the past week, nothing as substantial as a date at the Cocoa Connection or their last good encounter at the school festival. The only comfort Monika drew came from his text messages; after all, even though they had yet to meet up again on a date, Kenta never failed to text her whenever he had time.
The familiar sight of her family's black car was already waiting for her some distance away from the school's gate. As she drew closer to it, Mr. Fujita stepped out with a ready smile on his elderly face.
"Good afternoon, Miss Monika," he said, taking Monika's schoolbag. "Ready to leave? Or do you have somewhere else to go before we make for home?"
Monika smiled back, wishing she could dare to have Mr. Fujita drop her off at the Yamaguchi residence like she had done back then, but a flash of her mother's stern face stopped her. And even then, Kenta would probably panic at the prospect of her arriving uninvited, especially after her mother had surprised him twice before.
"Home," she told Mr. Fujita, wishing that tomorrow—and the days to come—will be kinder.
Dinnertime, as always, was a quiet affair in the Steinbeck household. In spite of the inviting aromas of the lavish dishes on the dining table—an oden hotpot, roasted pork loin and a stir-fried assortment of in-season vegetables—the atmosphere was anything but warm and homely. Sitting a few feet away from her mother, who in turn sat close to her father, Monika ate in complete silence. No hints of familial table talk surfaced; her father was busy scrolling through e-mails on his phone, while her mother focused solely on eating like she did. Monika sighed inwardly, once again proven correct that nothing much changed in their household whether her parents were around or not.
"Jinno's asking if the meeting will pull through tomorrow," she heard her father say to her mother. "Do you think Ogura and his assistant will come?"
"They'd better," her mother replied. "I made it clear to Ogura that it'd be in his best interests to sign the contract before December. That way, he can have the materials he'll need in time for construction to begin in spring. He'll show up one way or another."
"Did you give him Sasamoto's number? He said he'd be in Eishima by next week. Maybe they can talk after everything's been signed."
"Not yet. I thought you were going to give it to him?"
"I thought your secretary was . . . Never mind. I'll send him an e-mail now."
With that, the conversation died down, and the dinner resumed its silent pace. Monika felt the ridiculous urge to laugh, if only to express her disdain at how the only thing that seemed substantial enough to break the enduring silence over their dinner table every night was anything that was related to their family business. Instead, she kept silent as she continued eating, intending to finish before her parents and skip the post-dinner tea in order to be alone in her room again.
As soon as she was done, however, her mother finished alongside her, setting down her utensils. She glanced over at her, and Monika felt a tingle on the back of her neck as she recognized the look in her eyes; it was the same look she had whenever she wanted to talk to her seriously about something. Steeling herself to the prospect, Monika stayed in her seat and waited.
The moment came when her father left the dining table and made his way up to his study in order to drink and smoke, signaling that the dinner was officially over. Monika followed her mother dutifully to the living room for their post-dinner tea, knowing that backing out of it was no longer an option—her mother would simply talk to her in her room if she had to. As soon as the tea had been prepared and the maids had gone back to the kitchen, her mother spoke up.
"So . . . how is practice doing?" she asked her.
Feeling cornered all of a sudden, Monika leaned back against her seat, sinking against the cushions a little. With how her mother asked things, she expected anything but earnest maternal concern.
"Tiring," she said truthfully, "but it's going well."
Her mother nodded, setting down her teacup and dabbing at the corners of her lips with a napkin. "There's something I need to ask you about."
Here it comes. That her mother began her approach with a trivial question about how her day went before going in on the attack was so characteristic of her. "What is it?" she asked.
Instead of replying immediately, her mother took her time refilling her teacup and idling with the sugar cubes for a moment. Monika resisted the urge to heave a sigh, not wanting to draw any unwanted irritation from her mother's part before this seemingly serious conversation had truly gone underway.
"I went to the bank earlier today," said her mother. "I was told that you withdrew quite a sum of money from your account last week. Is that true?"
Monika sat up straighter, looking directly into her mother's eyes, keeping her face impassive. Just like what she had told Ami earlier that day, she knew she would have to treat this encounter the same way she would treat a debate argument—listen, acknowledge, address.
"Yes, I did," she replied, knowing there was no use denying what her mother had already found out.
"For school? Or for something else? This is the first time you've spent such an amount in a very long time," her mother pointed out, her tone bordering on a mixture of interest and displeasure.
"It was for a friend," said Monika.
Her mother's breath hissed faintly through her nostrils at her words. "If you mean that redheaded boy from before—"
"No, it wasn't for Kenta," Monika interjected posthaste. "It was for a classmate of mine. She was in need. She got her money stolen, and she needed to pay her rent immediately. That's why I lent her some."
Her mother paused for a moment, as if she was planning her next attack. Whatever would come, Monika hoped she was ready to reply without losing her composure, especially with the household helpers in the kitchen easily within earshot; with how positively cavernous the house was, conversations often reverberated across its walls easily.
"So you just lent her the money without considering if her predicament was true or not," her mother said stiffly.
"Mom, trust me. I know my friends very well," Monika told her, "and she's not the kind who will lie about something like that."
"People can always be deceiving in as much as they can be deceived."
"It doesn't mean I was actually tricked, right? Besides, I rarely ever spend my money on anything substantial, so why can't I use it when I need to?"
"Because you didn't need to. It was your friend who did."
"Well, yes. Are you worried that she might not pay me back or something?" As she said these words, however, Monika knew that there was no way she would let Sayori pay her back for the seventy thousand yen. Even so, it was unlikely that her mother would diligently monitor her bank account to see if she had indeed been paid back.
Her mother beseeched her wordlessly for a moment, her gaze so completely serious that Monika wouldn't have been surprised if she began raising her voice. When she spoke again, however, her voice remained at the same tone and level of emotion.
"It's not the money that worries me, Monika," she told her, taking a small sip of tea from her cup. "It's the fact that you are putting your time and trust into people who might end up just using you."
Startled, Monika looked over at her. Partly, she had expected her mother to begin a sermon on how to properly handle people who asked for favors like money, but somehow she did not expect anything as blunt and . . . personal as this. When she found herself unable to say anything in return, her mother went on.
"You might think I'm forcing you to deal with a lot of things on your own simply because I'm too neglectful as a parent, or that I'm keeping you from seeing your friends because I want you to just focus on studying and being a model student. That's what you think, yes?"
"I . . . Not really," Monika muttered, her lie being borne out of uncertainty more than anything else at the moment.
"Well, I'm going to tell you now that my intentions are quite more than just that," said her mother, placing her hands on the table in a formal manner, reminding Monika of how she narrated her own points in a debate. "This is something I never get to tell you about, and it's high time I say it to you at last."
What on earth did they put in her tea? Given that she had gone by for a very long time without ever being talked to like this, Monika felt continuously surprised and confused regarding her mother's own brand of parental wisdom.
"Mom, I'm sorry for interrupting, but . . . where exactly is this coming from?" she asked, aghast.
"You'll find out in a moment," her mother replied curtly. Again, she drank some tea and set the cup down, her formal bearing now a presage to something ominous. Monika could feel the stern resolve brimming from her like a palpable aura, and she felt that keeping quiet and listening was a better idea than arguing right off the bat.
"The thing is, I've been through the same motions you're going through right now, Monika," her mother continued solemnly. "Oh, yes, I have. It's hard to believe, I know, but I've been there. Having friends clinging to me, having admirers in the middle of my school years, thinking that I have all the time in the world to do what I want. It's one of the best feelings in the world, that youthful optimism and joy. It makes you feel free and secure, and lets you think that the future can't come soon enough. But as time passed, I saw that time is not as generous as we want it to be, and that people do come and go. Missed opportunities and mistakes started standing out more, and the people that stayed by my side before, some of them choose to leave after they've seen that I've given them what they want—my time and attention, and my help as well. That continued even when I started looking for work, and it only got more difficult from there.
"Before I met your father, I used to work the nine-to-five here in Eishima, hoping that I could at least find work worthy of the education I received. That would have been achievable in other countries—difficult, but achievable. Here, however . . . well, let's just say that some things are still deeply rooted in our culture make that prospect even more challenging. At first, I didn't want to believe it, naïve and hopeful as I was. I thought that with hard work and good credentials, I would be able to make a name for myself and provide well for my family in spite of the obstacles in my way. But being a hard worker and having a good educational background simply won't be enough to prepare you for the stigma, or the backdoor dealings and greased palms, or the sycophants who would smile in your face and step on you the moment your back was turned if it meant securing a position over you. You literally had to claw your way to the top if you wanted to reach your goal, and if you weren't solid enough for that, you'd get swept away eventually. If you go through that kind of adversity, that's when you are given the choice to adapt and keep climbing. And that's what I did."
Listening to her mother's tone taking on an icy, bitter shade, Monika still had no words to say. A brief lull interrupted the discussion as her mother drank some more tea. Monika observed her keenly, seeing her in a different light for the first time.
"I started by knowing the people around me first," her mother continued after she finished drinking. "I had to separate the untrustworthy ones from the decent ones, but even that proved difficult because, as I've told you earlier, people can deceive you even when you least expect it. I knew then that the only ironclad solution I had was to guard myself against anyone who might want to use me for their own purposes. Keep them at bay, gauge their motives, and know their characters. It's helpful in sealing business deals, and even more so when you do it to protect yourself against any crookedness. The hardest part is severing ties, but once you set your priorities straight and free yourself from any distractions or unwanted burdens, you'll see the sense in cutting off some people."
That stirred Monika's thoughts at last. "Are you saying that . . . that to you, my friends are the same as those people you met before? The ones you cut off for being dead weight or users?"
Her mother regarded her coldly. "You can never tell, Monika. If you believe they're all trustworthy, you'd be setting yourself up for a lot of disappointment. And pain."
"But that doesn't mean I should think all of them aren't trustworthy."
"True, not all of them may end up simply using you for their own gain or gratification, but most of them will only end up falling by the wayside as you mature. These high school cliques, these admirers . . . most of the time, they're just here for the present. And in some cases, they may even end up as obstacles to the future."
Monika heaved a sigh of exasperation. "So what do you want me to do, then?"
"Focus on your future," her mother replied. "And try thinking if your choices and your friends will help you with that. You see, I want you to be able to stand up by yourself and for yourself, Monika. I want you to know what it's like to focus on what needs to be done, to know the people you are dealing with, and to remember that in the end, only you can help yourself when you're facing a crisis. Remember these things, because they will help you not just at school or when you follow our footsteps in the family business, but with life in general. Because when you have that solid foundation beneath your feet, whatever adversity this world brings you, whether it's in the form of one-time friends or culture-driven impediments or being thrown into the unknown on your own, you will still come out successful."
Finishing her litany, her mother emptied another cup of tea, her intensity diminishing slowly like dying flames in a hearth. Monika, on the other hand, could only keep staring at her for a moment. Given how similar the two of them looked, down to their brown hair and green eyes, it was as if she was being lectured by not just her mother, but also by her future self in some way. And while her mother did not say anything specific about her experiences, Monika did not have to go too far to see what she meant; from her constant seriousness to her devotion to the family business, these were characteristics that were undoubtedly shaped by her mother's experiences in working office jobs before starting a successful enterprise with her father.
"You haven't had any tea yet," her mother pointed out after a while. "Go on, have some."
Nodding, Monika poured herself a fresh cup of tea and took a few sips, using the lull in their conversation to once again articulate her thoughts before she said anything. Her mother carried on with her own cup of tea as well, although Monika could also sense that she was anticipating what she had to say even if her eyes were cast elsewhere.
"Mom, I . . . I get what you're trying to tell me," Monika began once she had emptied her cup, "and to be honest, it's just surprising because . . . well, this is the first time you actually sat down to talk to me like this in a very long time."
"I know," said her mother. "I figured it was a good enough time for you to know what I think, especially with where you are right now and the kind of people you spend your time with."
"But that's the problem, Mom. I know you mean well, but that doesn't mean the kind of experiences I have right now—and the friends I have—aren't necessarily going to turn out the same way they did for you. My friends are not obstacles to what I want to achieve. In fact, you can say that having them is what keeps me going when the going gets tough. Without them, I don't even know what will happen or if I'll be able to shoulder the weight I'm carrying sometimes."
"But like I said, you can never be too sure with people today, Monika. And the work only gets tougher from here on out, so having distractions and additional burdens are the last things you'd want when that happens."
"They won't turn into distractions. I'm doing my best to reach the kind of success you're asking me to achieve, distracted or otherwise," said Monika, putting in an obstinate edge into her tone. "Besides, I've handled things rather well, even if I've been alone for a very long time," she added with a hint of bitterness.
Her mother stared at her rather coldly, and for a moment, Monika paused as she imagined glimpsing a different emotion beneath her gaze—a hint of regret.
"I know it seems cruel for me and your father to be someplace else while you're going through the rest of your teenage years alone," she told her. "I wanted to take you with us a lot of times, but the constant travel, the difficulty in keeping yourself in just one secure spot . . . it wouldn't be worth the trouble on your part. That's why we decided to have you stay here, so that you will be as grounded as possible as you finish high school, free of the hassle of changing schools or traveling across the country just so you can be with us."
Monika sighed, looking away. As much as she would have liked spending more of her latter teenage years with her parents, she saw the sense in her mother's reasoning. Still, the regrets that came with such a choice were still starker than ever.
"I'm trying my best, Mom," she told her mother softly. "I really am. I know we often disagree on a lot of things, but the last thing I want is to disappoint you or Dad. Just . . . please. I'm asking you to trust me with the choices I make, whether about how I approach my studies or how I deal with people, or who I make friends with. Because when you ignore my side and just foist your own opinions and sentiments on me, and when you make choices on my behalf without telling me first . . . it hurts. And I'm hurt as well for my friends, like Kenta and Sayori, whom you think are just distractions or obstacles in my studies and in my life. They're not. They're wonderful people who have gotten me through a lot of hectic times when I needed someone to talk to.
"I'm not saying this to disregard what you wanted to tell me, or to rebel against you and Dad for anything that we might have disagreed about. Because trust me, I get it, I understand where you came from and that you're just looking out for me. But I want you to know that . . . I have a voice too. And I would really appreciate it if you took the time to hear it first before you jump to any conclusions."
When silence descended once again upon them, Monika felt that she had said quite enough. True, there was still a lot more that she wanted to tell her mother, but this was a good start nonetheless. How her mother would react to all this, or whether she would approach her differently in the future, it all fell in the hands of fate now. The first die had been cast, and Monika hoped that she had made a good throw.
Her mother drank some more tea, set down her teacup and placed her hands neatly atop her lap. All business-like, she looked at her, as if she was about to renegotiate a deal with a stubborn client, but when she spoke, Monika was surprised to see that her serious tone had mellowed somewhat.
"Alright. I'll keep in mind what you said just now. If it ever seemed like your father and I disregarded your side in the things we decide on, I'm sorry."
Monika stopped short from openly heaving a sigh of relief. "Thanks, Mom. I hope now we understand each other better."
"Yes, I hope so too," said her mother. "Just know that . . . whatever happens, your father and I only want what's best for you, Monika. And to me, what's best for you is that you don't experience the harsh and bitter climb I had to endure in order to get where I am now. I want to help you clear your path, so that you'll be successful in your studies and secure in your future."
"Well, like I said, I'll do my best not to let you and Dad down," said Monika earnestly. "For now, just let me focus on doing things my way. You can be sure that I won't do anything that I feel will be detrimental to myself or my aspirations. Whatever comes in the future will come."
Her mother let out a sigh of her own, nodding. "Hopefully, you'll be ready for it. Anyway, I think I've had enough tea for tonight. I still need to talk to your father about a few things, so I have to go upstairs now. Don't you need to study?"
"We don't really have any homework for tonight, but I do need to check a few e-mails from the club, in case anything needs to be settled," replied Monika.
"Very well." Her mother stood up and smoothed out her skirt. "Try not to stay up late. I'll see you tomorrow."
"Okay, Mom. Good night," said Monika, giving her a small smile. "And . . . thanks for the talk. I really hope we get to do that a lot more."
Her mother looked down at her. For a moment, Monika imagined her smiling back, to see a bit more warmth from her that would complement the openness she had just displayed, but her mother could only give her another nod as she shifted back into her formal demeanor.
"Yes, I hope we do," she said.
With that, she turned and went up the stairs. As Monika watched her go, she wondered if she would be able to see more of her mother's meaningful side in the future, or if things would simply and slowly go back to how they were before. Whatever the case, she was grateful that through their discussion, she had found out something in her mother that she could empathize with.
An hour later, as she sat at her desk within the quiet confines of her bedroom, Monika began her nightly ritual as she idled with the last few lines of a new poem. From the hectic turn of events at the debate club earlier to the conversation she and mother had, she knew that it was an opportune time to add another one in her notebook as the drive to write began to fill her. And of course, there was Kenta, who would keep popping up in her mind long after she had turned off the lights in her room and lain down on her bed to sleep.
"When words have failed, the light seems to wane.
But even so, one often asks,
Do words ever fail?
When emotions simmer and thoughts soar
In this world of infinite choices and trials,
Isn't it true that only words
Can bring meaning to those left alone in the dark?
To speak softly, or to cry out loud,
To wrestle against the binds of circumstance
And find that spark in the middle of it all,
That gives meaning its soul,
Perhaps that's why one always seeks to be heard,
And maybe that's what voices are truly for."
Placing her pen down next to her notebook, Monika imagined the words whispering at her from the page as the ink dried. She imagined her message being conveyed well enough already, but she knew there was always room for another stanza—and another, and maybe even more after that, for as long as there were pages to fill and words to share, and as long as she had the drive and courage to write them down. Monika smiled to herself. Perhaps this was why, in a lot of cases, there were a lot of remarkable parallels between poetry and life, even more than one might initially think.
A/N: It's four in the morning already here at my place, but boy am I glad to turn this chapter in at long last. I was bouncing between writing this chapter and the new one I have for my Danganronpa fic, and I bogged down and lost a week's worth of progress due to writer's block. But I bounced back and seized what drive I could to finish, polish and upload this chapter today/tonight whatever the cost. I'm sorry if it took too long.
Once again, I pray that you're all doing fine wherever you are. Take care of yourselves, and keep safe!