A quiet evening at home.
The warm scent of rice and ginger fills the air. The apartment is dimly lit with a soft glow from the paper lamp Mao keeps near the window. The kind that flickers when the wind sneaks in through the balcony screen.
Mao is in the kitchen, folding hand towels beside the sink. Her hair is pinned back loosely, and her movements are steady—graceful, as always.
Minho stands by the hallway, his heart pounding.
Today, he must ask something from her.
Something big.
Something he's never asked before.
🌙 Minho's Inner Thoughts
"She gave up everything for me."
"Her youth. Her silence. Even the boy she loved."
"She never asked for anything back."
"But this time… I'll ask her. For me."
🍵 Scene Begins
Minho:
"Macha?"
Mao (without turning):
"Hmm?"
Minho (softly):
"Can we talk?"
Mao (pauses, then nods):
"Of course. Sit. The tea is almost ready."
Minho walks into the living room and sits on the floor. He clutches something in his pocket—the printed application form from Shanghai University. His hand is slightly trembling.
Mao walks over a few minutes later, placing tea in front of him. She notices the way he's avoiding her eyes.
Mao (gently):
"You look like someone about to confess to stealing extra pudding."
Minho (managing a nervous laugh):
"This is way scarier than pudding, trust me."
He looks up.
Minho:
"I applied to Shanghai University."
Mao blinks. Her hands pause mid-stirring.
Mao (quietly):
"…You did?"
Minho nods, then slowly pulls out the form and places it between them.
💬 The Conversation
Minho:
"I know it sounds crazy. But I talked to Ben. His uncle's there. The university is great. It's a chance to… to do something on my own. To grow."
Mao picks up the paper. Her eyes trace his name on the top line.
Mao (quietly):
"You've been thinking about this… for a while, haven't you?"
Minho (nods):
"Ever since that night. After the fight. I realized… I don't want to be the reason you and Papa keep hurting each other."
He swallows.
Minho:
"But Macha, I don't want to go without you either."
Mao looks up, stunned.
🌧️ Mao's Inner Thoughts
"Me?"
"He wants me to come?"
"I've always followed him… now he's asking me to follow him back."
"Have I… become that much of his world?"
Mao (softly):
"Minho, I gave you a life here. Your school. Your friends. Your music. Are you sure you want to leave all of that?"
Minho (firmly):
"Yes. Because the one thing I can't leave behind… is you."
He slides next to her.
And then, slowly, he wraps his arms around her.
Not like a boy hugging a sister.
But like a son burying himself in the only home he's ever known.
Minho (voice trembling):
"You raised me. You brushed my hair. Stayed up all night when I was sick. Scolded me when I failed my tests. Encouraged me when I played piano even when it sounded like dying cats. You made lunch every day. You tied my laces. You cried alone so I wouldn't have to."
Minho:
"You were never just my sister. You were… you are my mom."
Mao's hands hover in the air.
Then slowly, they come down—trembling—and hold him tightly.
Mao (voice breaking):
"Minho…"
🌸 The Healing
Minho:
"Come with me, Macha. Just this once, let me be the one to lead. Let me take you somewhere new. I want to study there. But I want you beside me—not behind me. Not waiting at the door. Beside me."
Mao rests her chin on his head, tears finally falling after years of silence.
Mao (softly):
"Your mother would be so proud of you."
Minho (muffled):
"She already is. And she's living through you."
Silence falls.
But it's not empty.
It's full of understanding.
Of years.
Of unspoken love.
🌌 Final Words
Mao (smiling through tears):
"Alright. Shanghai it is. But only if you promise me one thing."
Minho:
"Anything."
Mao:
"Don't cry in front of Ben when you get homesick."
Minho (grinning):
"Only in front of you, Macha."
They laugh softly, still holding each other.
Outside the window, the wind changes slightly.
A new chapter has already begun.
Evening. Kyoto apartment.
The living room is washed in the soft gold light of a paper lantern. The air is calm, but heavy with unspoken weight.
Their father, Mr. Geto, sits on the floor by the low table, his reading glasses slipping down his nose, a copy of Nikkei Business open in his lap. The news murmurs quietly from the television, but he barely listens.
Behind him, the sound of hesitant footsteps. Then silence.
Minho (softly):
"Papa?"
Father (without looking up):
"Hm?"
Minho (firmer now):
"We… need to talk."
Geto turns slowly, eyebrows slightly raised. His son's voice is rarely serious. He sees Minho standing with his arms behind his back, almost like a student facing his teacher. Beside him, Mao, her face calm—but something in her eyes flickers like a candle just before it goes out.
They walk in. Minho sits down first. Mao follows quietly.
💬 The Conversation
Father:
"What is it? Did something happen at school?"
Minho (carefully):
"No, nothing like that. It's about… the future."
Father (lowers his reading glasses):
"Go on."
Minho glances at Mao. She gives him a small, silent nod.
Minho:
"I applied to Shanghai University."
The silence in the room thickens. Even the background hum of the news seems to fade.
Father (surprised):
"Shanghai…?"
He leans forward slightly, setting his magazine aside. His fingers tighten over the edge of the table.
Minho:
"I talked with Ben. His uncle works near the campus. It's a great program. I want to go."
Father (carefully):
"That's a sudden decision. You always said Kyoto felt like home."
Minho (quietly):
"I thought so too. But… I realized I need to grow somewhere new. And maybe I want to find out who I am, without always being the boy protected by others."
Mao watches him, a small look of pride blooming on her face. He continues:
Minho (softly):
"But I don't want to go alone."
Geto glances at his son, confused.
Minho turns to his sister.
Minho:
"I want Macha with me. I want her by my side—not behind me. I want her to see me become someone."
🕊️ Mao Speaks
Mao straightens slightly.
Mao (calmly):
"I will go with him. Not for the city. Not for the language. Not even for work."
She lowers her eyes. Her voice softens.
Mao:
"I'll go because my brother still needs me. And perhaps… because I still need him too."
The father looks down. His face is unreadable.
Father (quietly):
"You've already given up so much, Mao."
She meets his gaze.
Mao:
"I never gave it up. I gave it to him. To this family."
Her voice doesn't tremble. But inside, her heart is a storm.
"I loved someone once too."
"But that love had no space in the life I had to choose."
Father (softly):
"I just didn't want to hold you down."
Mao:
"You didn't, Papa. But… you let me hold everything else up."
🌿 Resolution
The father lets out a long, heavy breath.
Father:
"I was going to go alone. Back to Shanghai. But maybe this is how we all go—not to escape… but to begin again."
He looks at his daughter—his pillar. His silent, sorrowful child who never asked for anything.
Father (gently):
"If you go, I'll follow you both this time."
Minho exhales, the tension slowly leaving his shoulders.
Minho:
"Then… it's decided?"
Father:
"Yes."
For the first time in many years, the three sit quietly—not in grief, not in distance, but in a soft, unsure hope.