Seta Ichika - I Don-t Have A Mother Anymore- So... ★ High-Quality & Easy

A late autumn evening. The sky above Tokyo is a bruised purple, fading to black. Seta Ichika sits alone in her room at the rooftop flat she once shared with her mother. The window is open a crack, letting in the cold air and the distant sound of a train.

It is a note that says: I am still here. And I am carrying you with me.

“I don’t have a mother anymore. So I’ll have to be my own.” Seta Ichika - I Don-t Have A Mother Anymore- So...

Her mother’s fox is gone. Buried.

She wipes her face with the back of her hand and looks at the blank permission slip. A late autumn evening

“So… I have to play for myself now.”

Ichika gets up and walks to the small kitchen. She opens the cupboard and stares at the row of instant ramen cups. Her mother used to cook nikujaga on cold nights. The smell of simmering soy sauce and beef would fill the whole apartment. Ichika hated the carrots. She would pick them out and leave them on the side of her bowl. Her mother would always sigh and eat them herself. The window is open a crack, letting in

The screen fades to black. Then, a single chord—electric bass, clean tone, no distortion—plays over the credits. The chord is not complex. It’s just a root, a fifth, and a quiet promise.