Sakura sat alone in the practice room long after the others had left.
The lights were dim, her reflection faint in the mirror. The manager's words replayed again and again in her head—bought, demand, dinner. The trophy rested beside her, untouched, like an accusation.
What am I supposed to do? she thought. If I go, I betray myself. If I don't, I betray everyone.
She didn't hear the door open.
Aiko stepped inside quietly, arms crossed, her expression tight. She had been thinking too—thinking about the stage, the applause, the way her name hadn't been called. About how perfect her performance had been. About how it still wasn't enough.
"What did you decide?" Aiko asked.
Sakura looked up, startled. "I— I was just thinking."
Aiko laughed softly, but there was no humor in it. "Of course you were."
Sakura stood, heart already heavy. "About the dinner… I think I'll go."
"But—" she started quickly, "I don't want to. I just—"
Before she could finish, Aiko cut her off.
"I know," Aiko said, her voice sharp. "You love your fame. Of course you'll go."
The words hit harder than Sakura expected.
"That's not fair," Sakura said, taking a step closer. "You know that's not true."
"Isn't it?" Aiko shot back. "You get the win. You get the attention. And now you get this 'opportunity' too."
Sakura's chest tightened. "This isn't an opportunity, Aiko. It's—"
"It's what?" Aiko's voice cracked. "A burden? Try standing on that stage knowing you did everything right and still lost."
She turned away, fists clenched. "What was my fault, Sakura? Tell me. What did I do wrong?"
Sakura felt her throat close. "You didn't do anything wrong."
"Then why was my trophy taken from me?" Aiko asked, tears pooling in her eyes. "Why does some crazy fan get to decide our lives? Why do you get chosen every time?"
She faced Sakura again, tears slipping free now. "That award was mine."
Sakura's heart clenched painfully. She stepped forward, instinctively reaching out—but stopped herself.
"I didn't ask for this," Sakura whispered. "I didn't want it like this."
"But you still got it," Aiko replied. "And I didn't."
Silence fell between them, thick and suffocating.
Sakura's eyes burned. "Do you think this feels like winning to me?"
Aiko shook her head, wiping her tears roughly. "I don't know what to think anymore."
Neither of them did.
They stood there—two people bound by the same dream, now split by the same fear—unable to find the words that could fix what had broken.
No apologies were spoken.
No decisions were made.
Only the quiet understanding that something between them had shifted—and it might never return to what it was before.