The girl beneath the stars

»My feet may walk upon this Earth, but my heart drifts toward something I cannot find here. Somewhere beyond the endless universe is my real home. «

The night wrapped the small town in velvet silence. Empty streets stretched beneath the glow of streetlamps, their light spilling like soft ripples across cobbled sidewalks.

On the hill behind her house stood Aiko, her reddish-gold hair catching the moonlight like strands of fire. There was dreamy look in her brown eyes, her mind elsewhere. The night wind carried the scent of grass and hidden flowers up the slope, and in it lingered something unfamiliar—something she could never quite explain.

Between her fingers, she held a star-shaped pendant. Simple, yet every touch sent a gentle warmth through her chest, as if it whispered a secret reminder: There is more than what you see.

“Why does it feel like the stars are trying to tell me something?” she breathed. Her gaze lifted to the stars, brighter than usual, burning as though calling her name. Each night, the ache grew stronger—the sense that her true place lay elsewhere, far beyond the horizon of this small world.

The next day, Aiko sat quietly in the back row of the classroom. The scraping of chairs, the scratching of pencils, teachers voice—everything felt distant, like echoes from a world she wasn’t part of.

Her classmates sometimes glanced her way, curiosity in their eyes, but no one called her to join games or chatter. She was always the quiet one. Dreamy. Different.

Instead, Aiko filled her notebook with sketches—delicate flowers, stars, moons, birds gliding between clouds. Each drawing was her secret language, a world no one else could touch. When the teacher asked for volunteers to read aloud, Aiko kept her hand lowered. She was in her own world.

During school breaks, the hallways were full and lively. Laughter and footsteps rushed past her. She leaned against the wall, invisible. Everyone seemed so far away, as if they lived in a universe she could never reach. Yet deep in her heart, Aiko felt it—a pulse, a voice, whispering that something extraordinary was waiting for her.

During chemistry class … “Who am I, like I am on a foreign planet. Like something is missing in my life. Am I just weird?” Aiko whispered to herself, eyes following the trembling leaves outside the window. She didn’t want attention. She only wanted to exist as she truly was.

When the bell ended the lesson, Aiko stayed in class a little longer. She packed her sketches and notebooks slowly. Her way home was lonely once again, but in a way comforting. The silence soothed her more than company ever could. The quiet gave her space to breathe.

That night, standing beneath the stars again, she tightened her grip on the pendant. Her hair was lightly tousled by the wind. Her world was bigger than this town, bigger than classrooms and conversations. Somewhere out there, her place existed—she could feel it.

And though she didn’t know where it was, Aiko smiled faintly. Step by step, she would find it.

On the far edge of the galaxy, countless light years away from the small blue planet called Earth, there existed a world that seemed like a dream given form—planet Akarihoshi.

Above, the heavens shimmered in a breathtaking gradient of sapphire and violet, as if day and night had decided to embrace rather than oppose each other. The land below stretched out in endless meadows, where flowers glowed faintly like scattered stars, while others gleamed sharply, as if they had been carved from living crystal.

Among them, tiny fluffy creatures swayed in rhythm with the gentle wind, and strange buzzing beings danced through the air, their bodies glowing like living lanterns. Birds with rainbow-colored feathers soared gracefully, each beat of their wings releasing threads of shimmering light. Some of them bore wings as clear as glass, and when they sang, their voices blended seamlessly into the hum of the air, weaving a melody so delicate it felt as if the planet itself were breathing in harmony.

Through the meadows wound slender streams, their waters glowing with a soft emerald tint. Here and there, small waterfalls cascaded over crystal rocks, scattering droplets that sparkled in the air like liquid silver dust. The sound was neither loud nor quiet—it was a gentle murmur, a soothing rhythm that seemed to carry the whispers of the world itself. When the silver spray caught the glow of the flowers, it scattered a thousand fleeting rainbows, each vanishing before one could even blink.

It was a world overflowing with wonder—so alive, so enchanting—that one could almost believe the universe itself had chosen Akarihoshi as its hidden heart.

In the training yard of the Akarihoshi royal palace, Akihiko swung his blade with steady rhythm. Each strike cut the air cleanly, his movements precise.

Naoru, his closest friend, leaned against the railing, arms crossed and smiling.

“Faster. Keep the flow—but don’t lose your balance,” he advised. His tone was warm, not strict, as though respect bound their words.

Akihiko exhaled, focused. His blue eyes were determined. Every strike held intention.

When training ended, the two sat beside a pond where translucent flowers floated on the water, glowing faintly like lanterns. Ren, Akihiko’s younger brother, came running, laughter bubbling from him.

“Akihiko! Look what I found!” He held up a pebble glowing like a tiny star.

Akihiko smiled gently. Naoru chuckled, sharing the moment without a word.

Later, lessons filled the royal library—ancient maps, planetary histories, science, philosophy. Akihiko read with quiet intensity, while Naoru scribbled notes, nudging him now and then with small jokes.

When the day softened into evening, the three friends—Akihiko, Naoru, and Mika—ran through meadows of glowing flowers. They sparred, teased, laughed until the sky turned violet. And when the sun finally set, Akihiko stood alone on the balcony of his chamber in the palace, watching the stars flicker awake.

The cool breeze stirred his medium brown hair. He didn’t know why, but the same pull stirred inside him—a call to something far beyond his reach. Just as Aiko, beneath Earth’s stars, felt it too.

Fate Shifts.

On Earth, Aiko walked down a quiet street, her steps in rhythm with the song flowing through her headphones. The melody was soft, tinged with sadness, carrying her away from the familiarity of cracked sidewalks and distant traffic. For her, music was sometimes the only place she belonged.

The world was calm. Or so it seemed.

On Akarihoshi, prince Akihiko sat inside the lecture hall of the Military-Science Academy. Their instructor’s voice lingered gently in the air.

“Here, you will each choose a planet, where inhabitants most resemble us, and where our language is spoken. A world unaware of other civilizations. You will have to prepare your report by next time”

A shimmering hologram unfolded before them like a blank canvas, waiting.

Akihiko was choosing first. His gaze lingered for a moment, calm and unreadable. Then, with a deliberate motion, he pressed his hand against the empty space.

Light rippled outward from his touch, and slowly, an image began to form.

A blue and green sphere turned gently, surrounded by faint silver light.

“You have to make a report about planet Earth…” said instructor to Akihiko.

Akihiko’s eyes softened as the planet glowed vividly before him, standing out among countless stars.

Akihiko leaned back, thoughts already stirring. Little did he know, the choice he had already made began to ripple through time, silently weaving the threads of the future…

Later, in the solitude of his chamber, he spoke to his artificial intelligence assistant.

“Kohana.”

“Present,” she answered softly.

“Show me planet Earth. Find me a place matching the criteria. Where they speak our language. As many similarities to our planet as possible.”

“Analysis in progress… Analysis… complete. Highest compatibility. Region: Japan.”

Akihiko’s eyes sharpened.

“Show me live feeds of Japan. All types—schools, cities, rivers, streets.”

Holograms filled the room. Lively crowds. Empty country paths. Rivers. Shops. Then—one suburban street.

Someone was walking slowly on the sidewalk. Ordinary. A hood pulled over their face, unremarkable… until the system’s alarm pierced the calm.

“Warning,” Kohana’s voice rang out. “Collision imminent. Fatal outcome probability: 100%.”

The hologram showed it clearly: a truck swerving out of control. Coffee spilled. The driver panicked. Tires screeched. Akihiko’s eyes were locked onto the hologram – on the stranger who had no idea how close the end was.

On Earth, Aiko’s music cut with a tremor. Her chest tightened. Something was wrong. The world seemed to fade to gray.

She turned—and froze. The truck was already there. Too close. Too fast.

Her legs refused to move. Her heart thundered. The driver’s helpless face blurred in her vision. Metal shrieked against pavement. Death was only a step away.

And thousands of light years away, Akihiko stood frozen too—staring at unfolding events. Whoever this person was, he needed to act quickly.

“I won’t let this happen. Even if it’s someone from another planet… I cannot let them die,” he whispered.

“Kohana—teleport this human.”

Kohana replied: “You need the king’s permission.”

“We don’t have time for this. Activate teleportation. Now,” commanded Akihiko with determination.

On Earth, the glow enveloped Aiko spread in soft waves. Light surged. Aiko vanished just as the truck’s shadow swallowed the spot where she had stood. And in the palace of Akarihoshi, she appeared—unconscious and far from home. But alive!

“Teleportation complete,” Kohana confirmed.

Akihiko exhaled, relief flooding him.

“Barely… made it.”

He didn’t yet know who he teleported. Or why saving this person mattered so much. But he knew this—he had just given someone a second chance.

He left his chamber and rushed to teleportation chamber.