The day had dragged Sota Kazemachi through a relentless fog of distractions and unanswered questions. The pale glow of the streetlights accompanied him as he trudged home, his legs heavy from practice and his thoughts even heavier. He knew he should have been thinking about tomorrow's drills or how to refine the new moves Coach Mercer had shown him, but his mind circled back to the letter and the bracelet waiting for him on his desk.
The warm glow of his house came into view, a haven that usually offered comfort after long days like this. Tonight, however, it felt different. The weight on his shoulders didn't dissipate, even as he opened the door to find his mother smiling at him from the kitchen.
"Welcome home, Sota," she greeted him, setting down a bowl of miso soup on the table. "How was practice?"
"It was fine," he replied, his voice quieter than usual.