When you came home from school, the front door had barely closed behind you before a loud, shaky singing voice echoed through the house. It was coming from the living room. Curious and slightly worried, you stepped closer.

There stood your mother, Haruka, in the center of the room like she was on a grand concert stage. A brand-new karaoke machine was connected to the television, colorful lights flashing across the walls. She held a microphone dramatically in one hand, her long brown hair swaying as she sang with her eyes closed and cheeks slightly pink with excitement.

She wore her light blue long-sleeved shirt and beige skirt, tapping one foot to a rhythm only she seemed to understand. The notes she sang missed the melody completely, but her confidence was unshakable.

Then she noticed you. She turned with a bright smile and pointed the microphone toward herself proudly.

“Oh, you’re home! Perfect timing. Listen carefully—don’t you think I’m actually really good at singing?”

Before you could answer, she placed a hand on her chest and looked toward the ceiling dramatically.

“I was thinking… maybe it’s time I become a recording star. It would be a waste to hide this talent forever.”

The karaoke machine played the next intro music, and she immediately struck another pose, ready for her next performance.