The name left Grandma Judy's mouth so naturally that Lunar felt something inside her jolt.
Guair Light.
Not your mother. Not spoken with distance, nor wrapped in the careful softness people used when referring to someone long gone. It was said the way one would speak of someone familiar, someone once within arm's reach.
Lunar stared at her. "You… know my momma?" she asked, unable to keep the surprise from slipping into her voice.
Grandma Judy went quiet.
The spark in her bright hazel eyes did not disappear, but it turned inward, as though a door had gently closed behind them. The playful ease she had carried moments ago faded into something heavier, something layered with memory that pressed into the space between them.
Before answering, she drew in a slow breath.
"Before I answer that," Grandma Judy said softly, her tone no longer teasing, "may I ask you something first?"
Lunar hesitated only a second before nodding. "Okay."
Grandma Judy's fingers curled faintly against the edge of the table, the smallest sign of tension.
"Where is… Guair…?" she asked, and though the question was simple, the way her voice dipped at the end carried something fragile beneath it, like a thread pulled too tight.
Lunar's shoulders lowered almost instinctively. "Momma passed away," she answered softly. "Two years ago."
Even now, saying it aloud created a small hollow in her chest. The words no longer shattered her the way they once had, but they never felt light, nor did they ever feel right.
Judy closed her eyes.
There was no gasp, no dramatic reaction, only the faint tightening of her expression that suggested not shock, but confirmation. It looked less like someone hearing unexpected news and more like someone who had feared the truth and finally had it placed gently, irrevocably, in their hands.
"I had a hunch," she murmured after a moment, her voice rougher than before. "But I was hoping I was wrong."
Her lips curved faintly, though there was no real smile in it. "I suppose I just wanted to cling to the possibility that she was still out there somewhere… especially after seeing you, alive and well."
Lunar blinked.
The sadness in Grandma Judy's voice was not distant sympathy, nor was it the polite sorrow people offered when reacting to tragic news about someone they had only known from afar. It was deeply personal. Deep enough that Lunar felt unsettled by it. "Were you... close with momma?"
Grandma Judy's throat tightened before she answered. "We were…" she began, but the word seemed to falter halfway out.
Her gaze dropped briefly to the surface of the table as though the word she needed might be written there. Several possibilities seemed to pass through her expression and be dismissed just as quickly.
Finally, she exhaled. "Acquaintances."
Lunar's brows knit together almost immediately. That word did not align with the grief she had just witnessed. It felt too small, too distant, to contain the emotion that had colored Judy's voice only moments ago.
Judy noticed the confusion and offered a faint, almost self-aware smile.
"I was there," she continued softly, her eyes drifting somewhere far beyond the café walls, "during your mother's very first race."
The shift in her expression was subtle but unmistakable. The present receded, replaced by something older, brighter.
"I was younger back then," she went on, leaning back slightly in her chair. "And you must understand, I was far more arrogant than I am now. I believed I had already seen every kind of runner worth seeing. I thought talent followed patterns, that brilliance had limits, that if you studied long enough you could predict exactly how far someone would go."
She let out a quiet breath through her nose, half amused at her former self. "Then she ran."
The café seemed to blur from her vision as she spoke, replaced by a track that existed only in recollection.
"I had never seen an Uma Musume run so freely," she said, her tone lowering. "She wasn't chasing anyone, and she wasn't calculating her next move. Hell, she wasn't even reacting to any other runners. She ran like the racecourse itself did not exist to confine her."
Her hazel eyes sharpened, bright with recollection.
"If the entire stadium and the seven other runners desperately trailing behind her had not existed, I would have been convinced I was simply watching a young girl running beneath an open sky with no destination in mind. She looked so unchained, so beautifully unaware that hundreds of spectators were watching her every stride, as if she were alone in the world and perfectly content with that solitude."
Grandma Judy's fingers curled faintly against the armrest of her chair.
"It was not speed alone that captivated me," she continued, her voice steady but rich with memory. "There were plenty of talents who were faster, plenty who could post better times on paper. It was the feeling she carried with her…. she ran as though nothing in the world could touch her, not expectation, not pressure, not even ambition. She was not trying to prove a point to anyone. She was simply running because she loved it, and that purity… that frightened me a little."
Her smile deepened, tinged with disbelief.
"Because in that moment, I realized that everything I thought I understood about racing was incomplete. I had studied statistics, memorized bloodlines, perfected training regimens down to the smallest detail, and yet here was a girl who dismantled all of it without effort, who shattered my carefully constructed theories by doing nothing more than being exactly who she was."
Lunar listened without blinking.
"The sight enchanted me," Judy admitted softly. "It unsettled me too, because I understood I was witnessing something that does not appear twice in one lifetime. A once-in-a-generation uma musume. A girl who chased nothing, unaware that the world would one day chase her."
Her fingers tightened slightly against the table as the old ambition resurfaced in her tone.
"And I promised myself that day that I had to have her. I had to be the one to guide her, to take that wild, untamed brilliance and refine it without breaking it. I wanted her under my wing. I wanted to become her trainer."
The word struck Lunar immediately, making her sit up straighter. "You're… Momma's trainer?" she blurted, eyes widening with sudden realization.
Grandma Judy broke into a grin so wide her eyes curved into crescents. "Nope," she said brightly. "I got rejected."
Lunar's mouth fell open.
"Eh…?"
The stunned little sound that escaped her seemed to be the final straw for Grandma Judy, who burst into warm laughter. It wasn't mocking, only deeply amused, and she lifted a hand to cover her mouth as she tried—and very clearly failed—to compose herself.
Between chuckles, she glanced across the table toward Oscietra and Exceed. "Look at her face," she managed, her voice still thick with laughter. "Did you see that?"
Exceed sighed, though there was fondness beneath it. "Trainer," she said, addressing Judy with gentle reproach. "Stop teasing the poor child. Look at how perplexed she is."
Lunar was, in fact, still frozen in place. Her mind scrambled to rearrange everything she had just heard, attempting to piece together which parts were serious and which had been delivered purely for dramatic effect..
Grandma Judy eventually managed to calm herself, the laughter tapering into a lingering smile as she dabbed lightly at the corner of one eye.
"I'm sorry," she said, her voice settling back into warmth. "It's not often I get the chance to act like this. I spend most of my days being stern and responsible."
Her gaze returned to Lunar, softening noticeably. "But you are simply too cute not to tease a little."
Lunar blinked several times, trying to reorganize everything she had just heard.
"So… you're not my Momma's trainer?" she asked slowly, her tone carrying genuine confusion. At this point, she wasn't entirely certain which parts were teasing and which parts were serious.
Grandma Judy chuckled under her breath, though this time the sound was softer.
"I tried to be," she admitted. "But like I said, it didn't come to fruition. Every attempt I made, every offer I extended, every carefully structured proposal I prepared was politely but firmly shut down by your mother."
Lunar's brows knit together. She couldn't reconcile that with what she had just heard.
"But… Big Sis Oscie said you're one of the best trainers in Australia, right?" Lunar asked, glancing briefly at Oscietra before looking back at Judy. "Why wouldn't Momma want you as her trainer?"
Grandma Judy let out a short snort of laughter. "I asked myself that same question," she said without hesitation. "So many times."
Her smile faded into something more reflective.
"At first, I thought it was simply the pride of a young filly," Judy continued, "I assumed she did not want to be guided, that she believed she could carve her own path without assistance. But when that explanation failed to satisfy me, I began questioning myself instead. I wondered if I had approached her poorly, if my confidence had come across as arrogance. I revised my offers. I softened my tone. I even consulted colleagues for advice, something I rarely did in those days."
She shook her head faintly at the memory. "It reached a point where I began doubting my own worth."
Leaning back in her chair, she interlaced her fingers loosely, steadying herself against an old frustration.
"Other trainers told me I was overthinking it. All the girls under my guidance reached their potential. Some went on to win multiple Group One races. A few even stood proudly on international podiums." Her voice remained steady, but there was a quiet undercurrent beneath it. "Yet I couldn't seem to get this one girl—the one who had the potential to define an era—to even glance in my direction."
Across the table, Exceed's hand paused ever so slightly around her porcelain cup.
Her violet eyes shifted toward Judy, something complicated flickering across her expression, though Judy, absorbed in her recollection, did not notice.
Lunar tilted her head. "Did you ever get an answer?" she asked. "From Momma?"
Judy's gaze returned to her, and this time there was no teasing left at all. "I did," she said quietly. "And it opened my eyes entirely."
Lunar leaned forward a fraction, curiosity sharpening her features. "What was it?"
Rather than answering immediately, Judy reached for the menu resting near the edge of the table and slid it gently toward Lunar.
"It is quite the story," she said with a small, knowing smile. "You may want to order something first. We will be here for a while."
Lunar blinked, slightly caught off guard by the sudden shift in direction, but she accepted the menu nonetheless. "O-okay…"
She lowered her gaze to the printed pages, silently scanning through the options as she tried to decide what to order, though her mind was only half focused on the drinks and desserts listed before her.
As this unfolded, Oscietra remained quiet, her eyes shifting between Judy and Lunar before slowly drifting to the person seated beside her.
Her mother had not spoken for some time.
She was still holding her porcelain cup, though it had long since been emptied. Her gaze was distant, unfocused, the usual composure in her face replaced with something almost dazed, like she was somewhere else at the moment.
Oscietra's brows drew together.
She reached over without a word and gently wrapped her fingers around her mother's hand, guiding the empty cup down from her lips and onto the table.
The small gesture seemed to pull Exceed back into the present.
"Mom," Oscietra asked softly, searching her face, "are you okay?"
Exceed blinked once, then offered a small smile.
"It's nothing," she said gently, though her voice carried the faintest strain beneath it. Even as she answered, her gaze drifted back toward Lunar.
She had expected resemblance, of course. It would have been impossible not to. But she hadn't expected this.
It was as though time itself had folded inward and seated someone from years ago across from her once more.
For a fleeting second, the image shifted in her mind.
Lunar's figure blurred, replaced by another in the same seat. The hair was the same shade, though worn slightly differently. The eyes were a different color, and the shape of the jaw and the tilt of the eyes carried subtler distinctions, yet the resemblance was strong enough to make Exceed's chest tighten with quiet force.
That girl had been smiling at her, so brightly and blindingly.
"You need to trust in yourself more, Exceed! I mean it!" The memory rang clear as day. "You're the most beautiful girl in our year, I'm sure you can get—"
"Iced choco…" The soft voice cut cleanly through the past.
Exceed blinked, and the figure dissolved instantly, leaving only Lunar sitting there with the menu lowered slightly in her hands.
"I… I'll have iced chocolate," Lunar repeated, a little shyly, worried she might be asking for something childish.
The trance shattered completely.
Exceed straightened almost imperceptibly, then raised her hand to signal the waiter. When he approached, she smoothly relayed the order for the table, her composure returning piece by piece as if nothing unusual had occurred.
Beside Lunar, Judy observed the exchange with quiet interest.
"Sweet tooth, aye?" she remarked lightly, one brow lifting in amusement.
Lunar rubbed the back of her head, a sheepish smile forming as a faint flush crept into her cheeks. "Maybe a little…"
"There is nothing wrong with that," Judy replied with an indulgent chuckle.
She then clapped her hands together softly, as if resetting the mood.
"Alright, now that that's settled, where was I?"
Oscietra let out a small sigh. "The reason you got rejected," she supplied flatly.
"Ah, yes, of course." Judy reached into her coat pocket and pulled out her phone. She unlocked it and scrolled for a few seconds before placing it in the middle of the table and turning it so everyone could see.
"This," she declared. "This is the reason."
Lunar and Oscietra leaned in simultaneously.
Displayed on the screen was a photograph of an absurdly adorable baby lying on a soft blanket, happily sucking on their own toes with a wide, toothless grin that radiated pure, unbothered joy.
Oscietra slowly turned her head toward Judy, wearing the most unimpressed expression she had displayed all afternoon.
"…What does this baby have to do with anything?" she asked blankly.
Judy wagged her index finger side to side as though scolding her for failing to grasp something obvious.
"What else? She is the reason Guair rejected me, of course."
Lunar stared at the photo again, her confusion deepening rather than clearing as she tried to connect the dots between the reason for her mother's rejection and a toe-sucking infant.
"Umm… who is this baby then?" she asked carefully.
Grandma Judy's smile widened, so much so that it softened every line in her face. "This baby," she announced, tapping the screen lightly, "is my granddaughter."
Lunar blinked at the photo once more before lifting her gaze back to Grandma Judy. "Oh," she said politely, sincerity outweighing her confusion. "She's really cute."
She meant it. The baby in the picture looked impossibly round and cheerful. And yet, despite the cuteness radiating from the screen, confusion still clouded Lunar's expression.
"I'm just… not sure I understand," she admitted softly. "Why would Momma reject you because of your granddaughter?"
Before Grandma Judy could answer, Oscietra suddenly leaned forward, her brows knitting and her eyes narrowing at the screen with visible exasperation.
"Granddaughter?!" she groaned. "Why are you showing baby pictures of her to Lunar? Yui is in her twenties!"
Judy clutched her phone defensively, her tone light but laced with mock offense. "Urghh, can a grandmother not miss her adorable granddaughter and show her off a little?"
"Not right now!" Oscietra shot back. "You're telling a serious story here!"
"Fine, fine," Judy muttered, though the corners of her mouth twitched in amusement.
She picked up her phone again and began scrolling through her gallery with exaggerated reluctance. After a moment, she set it back down on the table and turned it toward them once more.
This time, the image was entirely different.
A petite young woman stood in what looked like an office, dressed in an open white suit jacket over a black undershirt. Her shoulder-length black hair was neatly styled, framing a face that carried gentle features but no smile. Hazel eyes were focused intently on the mountain of papers spread across her desk.
"This," Grandma Judy said proudly, tapping the screen, "is Yui Aihara. My cute and only granddaughter."
She paused for dramatic effect.
"And the one who was supposed to be your mother's trainer."
"Ehh!?!?!?!?" The reaction came from both Lunar and Oscietra at the exact same time.
Lunar stared at the photo, completely baffled. "How would that even be possible…?"
Oscietra leaned closer, frowning. "Didn't Yui just get her trainer license five years ago? She's still a rookie trainer, isn't she? How does that make any sense?"
Grandma Judy shook her head slowly, clearly entertained by their disbelief. "Guair was never one to abide by sense," she said fondly. "And it turns out that all this time, the reason she rejected me—and countless other trainers—wasn't purely about our abilities."
She folded her hands together atop the table.
"It just so happened that the day before her debut race, Guair was training alone on the field. I had been visiting the academy that day and brought Yui along with me. She was only nine years old at the time and had wandered off while I was in a meeting."
Oscietra winced faintly, her lips pressing into a thin line. "Of course you would somehow lose track of her…"
Judy ignored the comment.
"She stumbled across the track," Judy continued, her gaze distant again. "And she saw your mother doing her practice runs."
Her tone softened further. "You have to picture it—a nine-year-old child, watching something so breathtaking for the very first time. She had no understanding of racing, no knowledge of technique, statistics, or pedigree. All she knew was that the girl on that track belonged to the sky. That alone was enough."
A small smile tugged at the corners of Judy's lips. "That tiny, fearless child didn't hesitate. She marched straight up to your mother." She chuckled softly, almost to herself. "And she declared, very seriously, that she would become her trainer one day."
Lunar's eyes widened. "She said that?" she asked softly.
"Oh, absolutely," Judy replied, the corner of her mouth lifting in amusement. "With the kind of confidence only a naive child can have. She told your mother to wait for her. To not let anyone else take that place beside her."
The amusement in Judy's expression slowly deepened into something more complex, a mixture of nostalgia and admiration. "And your mother… she didn't brush her off. She listened. She didn't laugh or dismiss her as a child's fantasy. She made a promise."
"A promise?" she echoed, Lunar's voice barely more than a whisper.
Judy nodded slowly, eyes meeting Lunar's with a weight that made the words linger. "She promised that when the time came, if Yui still wished to stand beside her as a trainer, she would give her that chance. Until then… she would accept no one else."
"So," Judy continued gently, leaning forward slightly, "when all those trainers came knocking—offering contracts, expertise, endless opportunities—your mother wasn't rejecting them because they weren't qualified."
Her hazel eyes held Lunar's unwaveringly. "She was rejecting them because she intended to keep a promise made to a nine-year-old child."
The words hung in the air, and for a long moment, no one spoke. Even Oscietra, who had approached the conversation with her usual skepticism, was silent, her brows drawn as she processed the story.
Grandma Judy leaned back again, folding her arms loosely across her chest. Her lips curved into a faint, almost helpless smile. "And that," she said softly, "is why I was rejected."
Lunar's gaze lingered on the photo of Yui Aihara, though she was no longer truly seeing the image on the screen. Instead, her thoughts drifted backward.
She thought of her mother—the complicated expressions, the quiet hesitations—every time Lunar had asked why she never had a trainer. Back then, she hadn't understood. She had only sensed the weight that pulled at her mother's smile, a subtle falter before she deflected it with a vague answer.
Now, it made sense.
She knew better than anyone how much her mother valued promises. There had been a night, long ago, when her mother had knelt in front of her and said gently, "To promise is to lay your trust bare for someone. It means you are placing something fragile in their hands and believing they will protect it."
If that was what a promise meant to her… then how unbearable it must have been for Momma to break one.
Lunar's fingers tightened slightly against her lap. She had broken it, hadn't she?
Her mother had passed away before the promise could be fulfilled. She had not taken… responsibility.
The word repeated itself in Lunar's mind, an echo she could not shake. Responsibility. Responsibility. Responsibility.
It pierced through her chest with a clarity that left no room for hesitation. Before she could second-guess herself, she reached out and gently tugged at Judy's sleeve.
Grandma Judy looked to her immediately, her hazel eyes widening with gentle curiosity. "What is it, dear?"
Lunar's voice was calm, though her heart was racing. "Where is your granddaughter now?"
Judy blinked at the sudden question, caught slightly off guard. "That girl," she said after a moment, exhaling softly, "is currently working as an assistant trainer. She's learning under someone many consider the best trainer in Japan right now—Fumino Nase."
Lunar's eyes shone, sparkling with sudden determination. "That's perfect," she said without hesitation. "She'll be my trainer in Japan."
Silence. Utter, stunned silence swallowed the table whole.
Oscietra froze mid-breath. Grandma Judy stared at her as though she had misheard. Even Exceed's grip on her porcelain cup tightened.
And in the middle of that silence—
Thud.
The iced chocolate was placed gently onto the table as the waiter murmured a polite "Please enjoy" before retreating quickly, blissfully unaware of the tension he had just interrupted.
The moment the waiter disappeared, the table erupted.
"What do you mean, Lulu?!" Oscietra demanded, leaning forward, eyes wide. "Didn't you just say you weren't looking for a trainer?"
Across from her, Grandma Judy's hazel eyes gleamed so brightly they might as well have been glowing. "Are you serious?" she asked breathlessly, her fingers hovering over her phone. "I can call her right now! I'll put it on speaker—"
Her hand trembled slightly with excitement, only to be gently but firmly held in place by Exceed, whose calm grip encircled Judy's wrist. "Trainer," Exceed said softly, though there was steel in her voice beneath the gentleness. "Let her finish speaking first."
Judy blinked, suddenly realizing she had almost launched into action without even hearing Lunar's reasoning. She let her fingers relax against the phone, casting a brief, amused glance at Exceed before her gaze returned to the younger girl.
Across the table, Lunar wrapped her hands around her iced chocolate, the cool glass grounding her slightly as she drew a steadying breath. She looked up at Oscietra, meeting her eyes with quiet resolve.
"My decision to not have a trainer before… it was influenced by Momma," she admitted softly. "She didn't have one, so I thought maybe I didn't need one either. I thought that was just how it was meant to be for me too."
Her gaze dropped briefly to the ice shifting inside the glass, her fingers curling lightly around it. "But now that I know the full reason… it's different."
She looked up again, determination settling into her expression.
She lifted her head again, determination settling over her expression like a mantle. "If what Grandma Judy said is true, then Momma didn't reject everyone because she didn't believe in trainers. She rejected them because of a promise." Her fingers tightened just slightly around the glass, though her hands no longer shook.
"And she never got to fulfill it."
The word responsibility drifted through her mind again, but this time it didn't weigh her down—it spurred her forward.
"Maybe I can fix two things at once," Lunar continued, voice low but unwavering. "I'm not Momma, so I can't replace her, but maybe I can at least mend that broken promise. And at the same time… I can have someone to train me properly in Japan when I eventually go there to compete."
Her gaze drifted toward Oscietra. "And I don't want big sis Oscie to feel guilty if she can't come with me."
Oscietra blinked, struck silent by the thoughtfulness and consideration in Lunar's words.
Lunar offered her a small, apologetic smile, soft but sincere. "I know how important Aunt Exceed is to you," she said gently. "I wouldn't want you to feel torn between me and her."
For a moment, Oscietra simply stared at her. Then her expression melted into something warm and almost helplessly fond.
"You really think too much, Lulu," she muttered, the words carrying no reprimand, only a gentle affection that made Lunar's chest lift slightly. "But… thank you."
Across the table, Judy had been watching the exchange with growing delight.
"I cannot wait for Lunar and Yui to meet," she declared, practically vibrating with excitement. "This is fate coming full circle! When should we arrange it? I can call her tonight. No, better yet, I'll have her fly over—"
"Grandma Judy."
The gentle interruption halted her mid-sentence, leaving her blinking in surprise.
Lunar's smile this time was smaller, softer, almost sheepish, but firm beneath it. "If possible… would you mind not telling her anything yet?"
Judy froze, confusion overtaking her excitement. "Not… tell her? Why, dear?"
Lunar took a slow breath before answering. "When I go to Japan, I want to go quietly," she explained. "I want to race under NAR first, on the local racetracks in my hometown. I want to build my record there with my own performances, my own efforts."
Her eyes met Grandma Judy's. "If I suddenly become the trainee of a promising young trainer from Tracen, especially one mentored by someone as respected as Fumino Nase, it would give me a shortcut. It would open a door straight into Tracen without me having earned it fully."
Oscietra's brows lifted slightly as she understood where this was going.
"And I don't want that," Lunar continued firmly. "It would feel unfair to the other Uma Musumes who are working just as hard as I am. They're training every day, pushing themselves to earn their place properly. If I skip steps because of connections, what does that say about me?"
The café felt quieter again, though this time the silence carried admiration rather than shock.
"I want to reach Tracen because I deserve to be there," Lunar finished."Not because of empty connections, or favors, or promises made for me."
Oscietra's lips curved upward immediately, pride blooming across her face without restraint. Exceed's expression softened as well, a small but genuine smile touching her features.
Judy, however, found herself momentarily taken aback. The maturity in Lunar's answer had not been rehearsed, it wasn't a reflection of anyone else's ideals or lessons—it had come from the girl herself. And in that realization, Judy felt her admiration deepen, an unfamiliar warmth spreading through her chest as she reassessed the young girl before her once again, realizing just how remarkable she truly was.
After a brief pause, Judy cleared her throat lightly.
"Then how about this," she proposed, her tone gentler now. "What if you simply meet Yui as a formality? No contracts, no announcements, no official partnership. Just a casual meeting. You two don't have to make anything binding yet."
It was a reasonable compromise, but Lunar slowly shook her head once more. "I don't think that would be right either," she said quietly.
Judy's brows lifted in intrigue. "Oh? And why is that?"
Lunar hesitated for a second, searching for the right words. "Keeping things under the radar is one reason," she admitted. "But… I also have another one."
Judy leaned forward slightly, interest piqued. "Another? And what might that be?"
Lunar's fingers traced the condensation on her glass absentmindedly before she looked up again. "It's a little selfish," she confessed.
That alone made Judy smile faintly. "Well, now I'm even more curious."
Lunar gave a weak smile before answering. "You said that when your granddaughter was nine, she saw Momma run and was instantly enchanted. That she walked up to her and boldly declared she would become her trainer one day."
Grandma Judy nodded.
"And Momma must have left that kind of impression on her because of how she ran," Lunar continued, her voice softening yet gaining an undercurrent of fire. "Because her running reached someone's heart."
Her pale yellow eyes sharpened, burning with quiet determination. "I want to do the same."
The table stilled.
"When I make my debut in the JRA," Lunar said, her voice carrying unmistakable fire beneath it, "I want my run to be so memorable, so undeniable, that she herself comes to find me."
Judy blinked, the realization dawning slowly, her lips parting slightly. "Instead of the other way around?" she asked, a mixture of surprise and awe coloring her tone.
Lunar nodded, firm. "Although I want to take responsibility for the promise Momma made, I don't want to approach her just because of a promise made years ago. I want her to see me run and decide for herself that she wants to stand beside me. Just like she once did with Momma."
There was no arrogance in her tone, only the resolve of someone who had chosen the path they would take.
Judy slowly leaned back in her chair, studying the girl before her with renewed intensity. Then, unexpectedly, she laughed softly under her breath—not in mockery, not in jest, but in awe and wonder.
"My, my," she murmured, almost to herself. "You really are her daughter… and yet entirely your own person."
After a long pause, she finally straightened and nodded, her expression resolute yet tinged with excitement. "Very well," she said, her voice warm. "I won't tell Yui a single thing."
Yet her eyes gleamed with anticipation.
"But I do hope," she added, voice lowering with excitement barely contained, "that when that day comes, I'll be there to see the look on her face."