The shimo that was.

Chapter 10: The shimo that was.

The cold, hard floor pressed against her back as she lay there, staring up at the ceiling. The quiet of the room wrapped around her like a blanket, but it was a blanket that never quite provided warmth.

Shimo hadn't realized how much she missed this-lying here in silence, letting the memories flood back in waves. Back when the world wasn't so... heavy. When she wasn't carrying the weight of her own expectations.

She closed her eyes, letting the memories come.

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When she was younger, life was simpler. Her mother, Mirua, used to hum as she worked in the kitchen. The melody always made Shimo feel safe, like the world outside couldn't touch her. Her father, Souichi, would come home from work and throw his coat on the back of the chair before sitting down with a tired smile. He wasn't perfect-none of them were-but he was there. And that was enough.

She had a brother, Renji, older by a few years. He was everything Shimo admired in a sibling. Always patient with her, always taking care of her when their parents were busy. They'd play in the yard together, their laughter ringing through the house.

Renji didn't care about being perfect. He just wanted to be. He didn't need to excel at everything, didn't need to have everything figured out. He'd climb trees and chase after the wind, sometimes letting Shimo follow, sometimes running ahead just to tease her.

But there was always this feeling, this lingering thought-when would it be her turn? When would she be good enough?

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Shimo's gaze drifted to the corner of the room, where the shadows seemed to twist and writhe in the dim light. That was the turning point, wasn't it?

Her sister, Shika, wasn't there. She never had been. Shimo was the only girl in a house full of men-her father, her brother, and sometimes, even Renji's friends.

Shika had never existed, not in a way that mattered.

The idea of her sister had always been an ideal. The perfect sibling. The one who had everything together. The one who could have made Shimo's life easier, could have made the world feel more balanced.

But that was a lie. A fairy tale made up in her mind. A person created by her own consciousness.

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It was around the time that her obsession with perfection began to grow-around the time she started noticing the difference between herself and Renji. Renji could fail and laugh it off, but Shimo could not.

She was different.

She could feel it, even as a child. Her father had never been hard on her, but something in her made her want to impress him, to prove that she wasn't just his daughter.

She wanted to be better.

And so, she began to push herself harder. To do everything right. To be everything right.

It started small-tidying her room more than necessary, making sure every toy was put in its place, setting higher expectations for herself with each passing day.

But as time passed, she began to crave perfection in all things. The idea of making a mistake, of letting something be "imperfect," sent a wave of anxiety through her chest. Every flaw became a mark, a scar that could never be erased.

It wasn't her parents that made her this way. It wasn't even Renji, though she often envied his free spirit. No, it was the feeling that nothing would ever be enough, not unless it was flawless.

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There was another memory, one she hadn't revisited in years, and it burned with an intensity she wasn't ready for.

Tokusake Ren.

Her neighbor.

He used to come over to play when they were children, laughing and running through the fields near their homes.

They shared a bond that felt... special, even when they were young. He wasn't like the others. Ren was easy to talk to, easy to be around. He never judged, never tried to correct her, even when she tried to hide the cracks in her facade.

Shimo would steal glances at him when they played, watching him chase after butterflies or climb trees like he owned the world.

He was perfect, in a way. At least, to her he was. But she was too shy to say it. Too afraid of what would happen if she let those feelings slip. So, she kept it inside, the crush that grew with every stolen glance, with every shared moment.

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One day, when they were about twelve, she had been lying on the grass, looking up at the clouds, when Ren flopped down beside her, his shoulder brushing against hers. For a moment, there was nothing-no pressure, no weight of expectation. Just two kids, enjoying the silence.

"I think you're always trying to be perfect," he had said casually, as though it were the most normal thing in the world.

Shimo had stiffened. She hadn't expected him to notice. But there it was, out in the open, as if he could see right through her.

"I'm not perfect," she had replied, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'm just trying."

"You don't have to try so hard," he said, his voice full of understanding, like he knew something she didn't.

But she had never really understood what he meant. She just nodded and changed the subject, pretending like everything was fine.

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The cold floor seemed to seep into her bones as she pulled herself from the past, the memories heavy with longing. Her chest ached, and for a moment, she let herself feel it-the weight of everything she had lost.

Renji had grown up, moved on. Her parents had their own lives. And Tokusake Ren? He was there , although a bit distant, somewhere in the world, living a life that wasn't hers.

But it wasn't too late. She wasn't too late.

Shimo pushed herself up from the floor, her fingers brushing against the smooth surface of the wall. She had been lying here for too long, trapped by the past, trapped by the need to be perfect. It was time to move forward.

She wasn't that girl anymore-the one who had tried to be perfect. The one who had let the world tell her who she was supposed to be. She was learning. Slowly. But she was learning.

The floor beneath her wasn't cold anymore. It was just the ground, a place to stand.

And standing was enough.