14 — My Star

The dress rehearsal was over for Sera.

The 25th Annual AinaU Fashion Show was only a few days away, and the real pieces of her dazzling, intricate dress were finally coming together. It was a masterpiece in progress.

 A fusion of timeless elegance and futuristic vision, built with pearl-white fabric that shimmered in the light. Though no one had yet seen the full piece, hints of haute couture met princess fantasy in every stitch.

Each student in the class worked in tall private booths to ensure secrecy. No one was allowed to peek at each other’s designs until the big day. After volleyball practice and a shower at the school gym, Sera would linger back in class, pouring every ounce of energy into perfecting her dress. She was always one of the last ones out.

“Noémie,” she called, lifting the heavy skirt of the dress. “Does this part need more support?”

Noémie—tall, graceful, with beautiful dark skin and thick black curls—stepped over. Her French accent rolled softly. “Oui, just a bit. It should feel light, even when layered. Let me show you a trick with the lining.”

Together, they adjusted seams and layers, restructured the bodice, practiced movement. Noémie even guided her through catwalk drills in the open gym after hours, encouraging her to command the runway with confidence.

By the end of each long evening, Sera was physically drained but felt fulfilled.

One night, after completing the final touches on her ensemble, she slumped against the wall, breathless but grinning.

“You did it,” Noémie said, clapping softly. “C’est magnifique.”

They shared a high-five, both giggling with relief.

Sera returned home late that night, shoulders aching, mind buzzing. She unlocked the apartment door and was immediately pulled into a warm embrace.

“You’re home,” Ame murmured, her voice low and soft in the quiet apartment. She held her tight. “You’ve been working so hard. I’m proud of you.”

Sera heart would burst and she could practically melt in her arms.

The next day during a break, Sera and June wandered into the student lounge just as the large campus screens lit up with a broadcast.

Ai Tanaka and Hana were presenting the university announcements.

“Preliminary results for the 25th AinaU Fashion Show are live!” Ai grinned. “The show is scheduled for Saturday in Harajuku. Best of luck to the fashion majors!”

The screen flickered to other campus news, but Sera and June were already scrambling for their phones.

June flopped dramatically onto a beanbag. “Ugh, I swear, my art professor’s trying to destroy me. I drew hands for four hours straight yesterday.”

Sera giggled, still searching. “My shoulders are killing me. I think I broke my back sewing.”

“Sounds about right.” June peeked over. “Volleyball still good?”

“Coach wants me to help run drills next week. It’s tiring, but I like it.”

“Well, fingers crossed—Oh! Did you check the list?”

Sera gasped. Her name was there.

“Sera Tsukiko—main show participant!” She passionately beamed.

June shrieked, “YESSS!”

They hugged, spinning each other in excited circles.

Later, her phone buzzed with a text from Ame saying:

“I’m so happy for you. I can’t wait to see you on Saturday.”

Sera felt so warm reading the message.

That evening, she curled up beside Ame on the couch, letting herself relax for the first time in days.

She rested her head on Ame’s shoulder, feeling grounded by her presence.

“How’s your week been?” Sera asked quietly.

Ame exhaled. “Busy. This week has been… exhausting. But seeing you like this makes it feel worth it.”

Sera smiled. “I’m actually so nervous…. I want it to be perfect.”

Ame turned slightly, brushing her hand over Sera’s. “Then you’ve already succeeded. You’ve put in so much effort—it’s inspiring. Just walk with that same energy. You’ll shine.”

Sera leaned into her. “Thank you so much, Ame.”

Ame hugged her tight. “I’ll be in the front row. Cheering for you.”

Friday passed in a blur of final checks. The finished dress now stood tall on a mannequin, Noémie and Sera doing meticulous inspections on every seam, crystal, and fastener.

“I think…” Noémie grinned, hands on her hips. “It’s ready.”

They high-fived again, bursting into laughter. “Bonne chance, ma chère. Tomorrow is your day.”

Under the night sky, Sera leaned against a pillar at the university’s train station, watching the screen flicker with arrival times. Her phone buzzed.

It was June.

“Hey… I’ve got bad news. I have recital practice all day tomorrow. I can’t make it.”

Sera's heart sank, but she smiled softly. “It’s okay. Do what you gotta do! I hope your practice goes well. I’ll try to make your recital too.”

June made sure to reassure her she wouldn’t entirely miss it, though.

“I’ll be watching the livestream though on the AinaU channel though. You got this!”

Saturday morning came as quick as lighting.

Sera woke with the sunrise, determination burning in her eyes. Ame stirred beside her, her arms instinctively reaching out to find Sera—but the bed was empty.

Sitting up groggily, she blinked at the early light. “She’s already up…?”

Sera was almost out the door when Ame stopped her.

“Wait!” she just barely called out, just in time.

Sera turned, surprised as Ame wrapped her in a tight hug and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “You’re going to do incredible. I’m so proud of you.”

Sera beamed, her heart full. “Tonight,” she winked, “make sure you keep your eyes on me~”

She closed the door with a playful smirk, leaving Ame frozen and blushing in the doorway.

The train to Harajuku was quiet, early enough that only a few others were headed to the event district. Sera arrived at the venue, one of the first models to step into the preparation hall.

Noémie greeted her warmly, handing her coffee and immediately going into planning mode. “Let’s begin.”

Between rehearsals, styling, and prepping the space, Sera texted Ame instructions on how to find the hall. “When you get off at Harajuku Station, head left out the Omotesando exit. It’s the fourth building with the red canopy. Can’t miss it.”

Ame would quickly reply. “Got it. Thank you.”

Evening fast approached, and soon the grand finale was here.

The air backstage was electric with tension and glitter. Models, designers, and assistants buzzed like bees in a gilded hive. Noémie, as poised as ever, stood in the center of the chaos like a sculptor before her masterpiece—Sera Tsukiko. She knelt slightly, her practiced hands adjusting the intricate embroidery of the gown’s bodice, making sure every thread shimmered under the soft glow of the dressing lights. With a steady touch, she fixed the final clasp of the elegant white veil that now floated gently over Sera’s face, diffusing her golden hair and pale features into a radiant softness.

“Perfect,” Noémie whispered, brushing a final swipe of blush on Sera’s cheek. She stood back and looked at her creation—no, her canvas—now fully realized.

Nearby, other assistants double-checked fittings and secured last-minute accessories. Models in dramatic silhouettes and striking poses prepared for their own moments on stage, but all eyes briefly turned to Sera. It seemed even among constellations, she was the star.

The lights dimmed in the massive venue nestled in the heart of Harajuku, the walls adorned with projected sakura blossoms fluttering like they were carried by wind. Lantern-like chandeliers hung from an ornate domed ceiling, casting warm, radiant glows on the audience. The catwalk—a gleaming, elevated silver runway—hovered above the guests. Its glass flooring, lit from below, made the models seem like celestial beings walking on light.

Spotlights converged on the main stage as the host, Yvette’s voice boomed. “Welcome to the 25th Annual AinaU Fashion Show! We’re here live in Harajuku!”

Cheers erupted through the fashion hall, echoing off mirrored walls. Audience members, celebrities, students, and influencers packed into the sprawling venue, flashing cameras lighting up like stars.

At the head of the front row stood Ame Misaki trying to retain her composure, her fingers subtly gripped the velvet barrier in front of her. She adjusted her posture and peered up at the stage, searching.

Where was Sera?

One by one, the participants strutted down the runway, each to their own unique music, bathed in their moment of spotlight. The models walked with grace, power, confidence—expressing their own flair in every step. Each name announced was met with cheers and murmurs of admiration. Fashion students from every year watched from below, craning their necks to get a glimpse of the exquisite garments above.

The music shifted. A hushed orchestral swell rose behind the stage curtain.

Sera stood alone, heart pounding in her chest like a drum. Her hands trembled, though she held them firm at her sides. She could hear the faint rustle of the crowd, the murmurs and excitement.

You’re ready.

She’s watching.

Ame’s face flashed in her mind. The words she once said. The love she gave. Sera inhaled deeply, closed her eyes... and when her name was announced, she stepped forward.

The orchestral music swelled—strings and piano in a majestic, almost royal composition. As the curtains parted, Sera Tsukiko emerged into the light.

Gasps filled the room.

The gown shimmered like starlight—ivory and silver threads intricately woven into a flowing fabric that sparkled under the spotlight. The bodice hugged her frame in delicate, sculpted detail, adorned with subtle floral lace that cascaded into a full skirt, the fabric shifting like waves. Her white veil floated behind her, haloed in stage light, each step she took causing it to ripple like silk in water.

Her heels clicked, deliberate and commanding, echoing through the glass runway. The crowd was in awe.

Ame’s body tensed. Her eyes widened as she saw her.

"Sera?!" she exclaimed internally.

Was that really the cheerful girl she fell in love with?

She raised both hands to her mouth, breath caught, her eyes already brimming. Her heart thudded painfully as Sera moved closer, like a vision descending from the heavens. She looked… divine.

"Oh my god..."

Sera reached the end of the catwalk facing the audience. Cameras fired like fireworks. The warmth of the lights kissed her skin, the sound of her chosen music elevating the moment to something almost ethereal. She could feel every eye on her—but she only sought one.

She looked directly at Ame. And locked eyes.

The music faded to a pause.

In one slow, fluid motion, Sera lifted her veil, revealing her face fully to the crowd. The gasps turned into full-blown applause. And yet her gaze remained fixed only on Ame.

Then, something unexpected—she tore the veil away.

The fabric shimmered in the light, like a comet trailing through the air, landing softly in the crowd. The audience let out a loud gasp, followed by whistles and applause. Ame's mouth parted behind her trembling hands.

Then Sera kissed her hand, glitter catching on her lips. With dramatic poise, she blew a kiss toward Ame, sparkling dust trailing through the air, showering her and those around her like fairy dust. The crowd shrieked with delight.

Ame nearly buckled.

She clutched her chest with one hand, covering her face with the other.

"Sera...!" she mouthed through the tears. She wanted to shout, to reach out, to run to her.

Sera smiled—sweet and dazzling—and with a final princess-like turn, her golden hair flared, catching the stage lights, turning and flowing like a golden river. Her smirk was playful, powerful. Regal.

The music roared back in, and the crowd erupted.

Sera reached the curtains and fell into Noémie’s arms, the adrenaline crashing down in waves. She was overwhelmed. “I did it… I really did it,” she whispered, trying not to cry.

“You didn’t just do it,” Noémie said, her voice tender, “You gleamed like something not of this world.”

Sera clung to her, whispering thank-yous again and again, mascara nearly smudging as she laughed and wept at once.

More models took the stage—each magnificent in their own right. But Sera's performance had burned itself into the memory of every attendee. She and Noémie watched the rest of the show quietly, still trembling with the weight of the moment.

At last, the time arrived. The judges stepped forward, the stage glittering, and the audience hushed in anticipation. It was time to find out who had won the 25th Annual AinaU Fashion Show.

The catwalk had transformed.

Gone was the sharp silver gleam of the runway—now replaced with a wide glittering stage bathed in warm gold light, lined with velvet drapes and tall floral pillars that framed the judges’ podium. From the high arches of the Harajuku hall, crystalline lights poured down like stars, catching on the sequins and rhinestones of every model’s outfit.

Models and designers, once elevated above the crowd, now stood among them on the ground floor, shoulder to shoulder. The audience sat hushed, buzzing with expectation and admiration. Phones were out. Eyes were wide. Futures were about to be changed.

Sera stood silently beside Noémie, the veil now gone, her face shimmering faintly in the aftermath of her dazzling performance. Her fingers clutched the edge of her dress as tightly as she clutched her breath. Around her, the others murmured with nervous energy, their gowns rustling with each subtle shift. Noémie placed a steady, firm hand on Sera’s back. A grounding gesture.

Then Yvette appeared on the stage again, her voice perfectly controlled, yet unmistakably vibrant. Adorned in her signature gold-rimmed glasses, she raised the microphone to her lips with a theatrical smile.

“Ladies and gentlemen, fashion lovers across the globe—thank you for joining us live from the heart of Harajuku. It’s time…” She paused, drawing out the moment. “…to announce the winners of the 25th Annual AinaU Fashion Show!”

The crowd clapped, a chorus of cheers, camera flashes, and whistles rising—then just as quickly fell to silence.

The fashion design professor stepped forward with solemn grace. Next to her, a sharply dressed older woman with platinum hair and a pearl choker—a famous critic from Paris—folded her hands in practiced poise. They whispered together behind a golden envelope.

Sera’s heart pounded in her ears. Her vision tunneled. She didn’t blink.

“And the grand prize winner is…”

Everything in the world seemed to slow. The room’s air turned thick, dense. The flowers didn’t sway. The lights didn’t flicker. All the sound was gone. Just her heartbeat. Just that name.

The professor opened the envelope.

“Helena Vogelsang!”

Screams erupted. The crowd roared, a wave of applause crashing like a tsunami. Cameras flashed wildly.

Sera felt herself drop. Her heart hollowed. Her hands went limp.

She didn’t even realize she had stopped breathing until Noémie immediately wrapped an arm around her, rubbing her back soothingly. “It’s okay,” she whispered. “You were stunning. So, so stunning.”

All that effort. The long rehearsals. The perfect walk. The veil. The kiss. All of it. It hadn’t been enough.

Far across the sea of people, Ame stood stiffly, the words not registering. She had hoped—no, believed—that Sera would win. When she heard Helena’s name, a sudden ache pulsed deep in her chest. She turned instinctively, eyes locking on Sera. Seeing her not standing, not smiling, it felt like she had lost too. Her lips quivered, hands clenched together as if in silent prayer.

Please… let her have something.

Then the professor lifted the mic again.

“And second place…” The crowd hushed again. “…Sera Tsukiko!”

Sera gasped. Her body jolted. The air rushed back into her lungs.

“Me…?” she whispered. Noémie didn’t even wait. She grabbed Sera’s hands with gleaming pride and helped lift her from the seat. “Yes! Go, go!”

Sera stood on trembling legs, half-disbelieving, tears already stinging the corners of her eyes. People around her clapped and patted her shoulder. A few whispered, “You deserved it.”

“And third place,” the professor added, “Zahara Nuru!”

The three winners were called up, ascending the stairs to the stage. Noémie went with Sera until she was at her designated step. As Sera stepped up to the second-place pedestal, she looked to the top, where Helena was now crying, her assistant holding her hand. Sera stared at her, heart swelling with respect. There was no resentment. Helena loved this too.

Sera turned, hugging Noémie tightly before stepping fully into her position. White and gold confetti burst into the air above the stage like a celebration of stars. Flashbulbs sparked and the crowd stood, clapping for all three finalists.

Sera held her trophy high, glittering under the lights. She scanned the ocean of people—until she saw her. Ame. Hands cupped to her mouth again, screaming something through her sobs. Her silver eyes gleaming. “Sera!!” she shouted. Sera bit back a sob.

Even though it wasn’t first, seeing Ame’s face—it was enough.

After hundreds of photos, chaotic laughter, and more interviews than she could count, the lights dimmed. The show was over.

But the ache still lingered in Sera’s chest.

She wandered alone backstage to the same quiet staging room from earlier that morning. Distant voices echoed in the hall, but here it was silent. The trophy sat beside her on the bench. The window was cracked open, letting in a soft breeze that swept over her golden hair and swayed the hem of her gown.

She didn’t want anyone to see her cry. Not now.

She was just about to take off the dress when—

Click.

The door creaked open.

She gasped, almost in disbelief. Her body jolted upright. “A…Ame?!”

Standing in the doorway, slightly out of breath, was Ame—her dark, tailored coat dusted with glitter from earlier, a staff lanyard swinging from her neck. Her hair was loose and undone, eyes searching, until they softened at the sight of Sera.

Ame ran to her.

Sera stood without thinking, almost stumbling into her arms. Their bodies collided with quiet urgency.

“Ame…?” she choked, her voice breaking.

“Sera…” Ame whispered, holding her so tightly it was as if she'd disappear otherwise. “You were incredible. I am so proud of you! You did amazing, Sera.”

Sera smiled through her tears, face pressed against her chest. “Did… did you see…? The whole thing… the whole performance, it was… it was for you…” she said, a shaky laugh mixing with her sob. “…I-It was really all for you.”

Ame's heart clenched. She looked down, running her fingers through the shimmer of Sera’s golden hair, then gently cradled her cheeks, lifting her face to meet her gaze. Her voice was a trembling whisper.

“Y-Yeah… I figured… when you looked at me…and lifted the veil.”

Their eyes locked, a radiant quiet between them, the moonlight gently illuminating the edges of their world.

“It was like…” Ame’s voice wavered, “…someone lifting a veil at their wedding. Like you were unveiling not just your face… but our future…”

The thought that went behind Sera’s performance made Ame want to cry on the spot.

Sera’s hands gripped her tighter. “I just… I wish I had won it. Not just for me…. but for you.”

Ame shook her head and cupped Sera’s face again. Her voice was full of warmth, shimmering with love, her gray eyes glowing like silver in the moonlight.

“Sera…” she whispered, her voice tender, reverent. “You may have been second today, but you will always be first in my heart.”

That was it.

That final word undid her.

Sera broke into a sob, burying herself into Ame’s arms, every tremble of her body carrying weeks of pressure, anxiety, hope, and heartbreak. The tears flowed freely, and yet she never once felt ugly or weak.

She felt safe.

And beautiful.

And loved.

When her sobs faded to quiet breaths, she leaned back just enough to meet Ame’s gaze again.

Then without a word, she kissed her.

Their lips met in a deep, soulful kiss, the kind that swept through the dress, the wind, the night, and the golden strands of hair glowing in the moonlight.

And for that moment, it didn’t matter who had won.

Because in Ame’s arms, Sera had everything she ever needed.