The announcement board outside the faculty office buzzed with activity as students crowded around the newly posted sign-up sheets for the upcoming Autumn Festival. Hikari hovered at the back of the group, her fingers worrying the edges of her notebook. Across the courtyard, Ren leaned against the ginkgo tree, his usual scowl in place as Kai gestured animatedly beside him.
Aya's voice cut through her thoughts. "You should join the festival committee with me."
Hikari nearly dropped her books. "W-what?"
"The astronomy club always runs the planetarium exhibit," Aya continued, tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear. "But this year, I thought we could—"
"Fujisaki!" A teacher called from the office doorway. "The student council meeting starts in five minutes."
Aya flashed Hikari an apologetic smile. "Think about it?"
As she walked away, Hikari noticed it again—that silver thread stretching between Aya and Ren. It pulsed faintly, like a fading heartbeat.
The sound of scuffling shoes made her turn. Ren stood a few feet away, hands shoved deep in his pockets. Up close, she could see the faint constellation of freckles across his nose that only appeared after long hours in the sun.
"You signing up for anything?" he asked, his voice rough.
Hikari's mouth went dry. "I... the planetarium, probably."
Ren nodded, his dark eyes flickering to the sign-up sheet. "Kai's making me volunteer at the café booth."
A beat of silence stretched between them, filled only by the rustling of ginkgo leaves overhead. Hikari's heart hammered against her ribs.
"Your poem," she blurted out. "The one about the girl on the hill..."
Ren went very still.
"I look at the stars," she continued, voice barely above a whisper, "because my grandmother said they remember us when people forget."
The breeze carried the scent of coffee and cinnamon from his clothes as he took a step closer. "My old man taught me the constellations," he admitted, so quiet she almost missed it. "Before he left."
Hikari's breath caught. For the first time, she saw it—the boy who wrote poetry about the night sky, hidden beneath the leather jacket and rumors.
A loud crash shattered the moment. Yuuto Sakurada, the third-year who'd tormented Hikari since middle school, stood over a toppled trash can, his smirk sharp as broken glass. "Oops. Ghost Girl finally found someone to haunt, Kurosawa?"
Ren's shoulders tensed. "Walk away, Yuuto."
"Still playing the hero?" Yuuto's laugh was bitter. "Some things never change."
Hikari watched the silver thread at Ren's wrist tremble violently. Then, impossibly, a second thread appeared—faint and frayed, stretching toward Yuuto before dissolving like smoke.
The warning bell rang, scattering students to class. As Hikari turned to leave, Ren's fingers brushed against hers, sending a jolt up her arm.
"Meet me at the observatory after school," he murmured. "There's... something I want to show you."
---
**Later That Evening**
The old Starview Observatory creaked in the wind as Hikari pushed open the rusted door. Dust motes danced in the fading sunlight filtering through the domed ceiling. Ren stood by the antique telescope, its brass fittings gleaming faintly.
"You came."
Hikari's pulse fluttered. "You... wanted to show me something?"
Ren hesitated, then pulled a familiar leather notebook from his bag. "I wrote something new."
His hands trembled slightly as he opened to a fresh page. The poem was shorter than the others, just four simple lines:
*"They say the North Star never moves,*
*but the whole sky revolves around it.*
*Maybe that's why,*
*when you look at me, I feel still for the first time."*
Hikari's vision blurred. When she looked up, Ren was closer than before, close enough that she could see the flecks of gold in his dark eyes.
The silver thread between them—the one she hadn't even noticed forming—glowed brighter than any in the sky.
Outside, the first stars began to appear.
***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***
Updated 13 Episodes
Download
Like this story? Download the app to keep your reading history.
Comments