Kasumi had been seated at the low table for a long time, her posture perfect, her hands folded gracefully in her lap as she listened to her daughters' voices—voices she had longed to hear for years. But now, as the weight of the moment settled over her, the strain of holding herself together became too much.
She rose slowly, her movements deliberate, each motion a carefully practiced act of strength for the sake of Yuko and Haruna. Her fingers pressed lightly against the table's edge, her knuckles whitening just slightly before she lifted herself.
For a heartbeat, she stood tall, her spine straight, her chin lifted—every inch the matriarch her daughters remembered.
But then, without warning, her legs trembled. A sharp, betraying weakness shot through her thighs, and her knees buckled beneath her. She lurched forward, a soft, surprised gasp escaping her parted lips as the world tilted dangerously.
I was already moving before I realized it.
