Threads of fate

Aiko sat quietly on the edge of the bed; her gaze fixed on the floor. Slowly, her eyes wandered across the chamber. Soft light shimmered through panels in the walls, pulsing gently like a heartbeat. A holographic display glowed faintly beside her, and on the shelves rested strange devices whose purpose she couldn’t begin to guess. Every object was alien. Every surface breathed of a world that wasn’t hers.

“Aura… what is this?” she asked, pointing toward a small round device that emitted a soft, steady glow.

The graceful hologram of Aura shimmered to life. “That is a diagnostic unit,” Aura replied calmly. “It monitors your condition; you have to adjust to Akarihoshi environment.”

Aiko nodded faintly, though her thoughts were anything but calm. She clutched at the blanket in her lap, fingers trembling. Why me? Why am I here? Will I really be… okay? The words slipped from her lips like a whisper carried away by the air.

“Your health is stable,” Aura answered gently. “You will be fine. Rest and trust the process.”

Aiko inhaled deeply, eyes drifting to every corner of the chamber as though naming each strange object would give her back control. But her unease lingered.

“…Aura… will I really be okay?” This time her voice was louder, almost pleading.

“Yes, Aiko. You will.”

The words calmed her only slightly. Still, the feeling of not being alone gave her a fragile sense of comfort.

Sunlight filtered through curtains woven from semi-transparent fibers that pulsed faintly in the afternoon breeze. Wrapped in a blanket that smelled of something fresh and otherworldly, Aiko sat waiting—still overwhelmed, still lost, scared.

At the door, a familiar voice spoke.

“Aura. May I enter? Is Aiko awake?”

“You can enter, Aiko is awake,” Aura replied smoothly.

Akihiko stepped inside, careful, composed, yet his eyes betrayed a trace of concern.

Aiko thought to herself: He asks for permission before entering. On Earth, he would have just opened the door. Strange… but somehow reassuring.

Akihiko’s voice was calm. “Aiko. I’ve arranged for a stylist to visit. She’ll take your measurements. You’ll need attire suited for here.”

“Clothing?” Aiko raised an eyebrow. “But I already have my t-shirt—”

“A cotton shirt and shorts won’t suffice in the palace,” Akihiko said gently but firmly. “A dress code applies within the palace.”

Before she could argue, the doors slid open again.

A woman with short gray-pink hair entered gracefully, her metallic-toned uniform reflecting the light. A slim device on her wrist glowed faint blue, while behind her a younger assistant carried a tablet that projected faint holographic patterns.

“So,” the woman said with a stylish smile, “you must be our guest from another world. How wonderfully unusual. I am Yarami, Royal Aesthetic Advisor. Don’t worry—it will be quick, and it will be entirely touch-free.”

“Advisor… Aesthetic?” Aiko repeated, bewildered.

Akihiko replied to Aiko.

“You would use word stylist in your world.”

Yarami raised her wrist and a wave of light washed over Aiko’s body, scanning her from head to toe.

“Excuse me… are you scanning me?”

“Of course,” Yarami answered lightly. “Measuring tapes are ancient relics. Welcome to Akarihoshi, dear. Akihiko asked that you carry yourself in both comfort and dignity. Something between practical and magical. A little miracle, if you will.”

Her voice grew clinical, precise. “Posture: eighty-nine percent. Skin: sensitive—avoid auronite fabric. Hair pigmentation: natural, rare. Back muscles… slight tension. Noted.”

The assistant’s tablet flickered with flowing designs—silhouettes, patterns, colors shifting like liquid starlight.

“This style was worn by an ambassador from Azari-9,” Yarami explained cheerfully. “Or perhaps this one, inspired by the star winds. Or… something Earth-like?”

Aiko’s voice was small. “…Could it be simple? Something I can wear without feeling out of place.”

Yarami paused, then softened her tone. “Simple. Soft. Yet uniquely yours. We’ll design something that whispers, not shouts.”

Moments later, a projection shimmered into view: a long A-line gown, palace style but adapted for Aiko’s frame.

“A wide skirt for natural movement,” Yarami explained. “No slits or unnecessary adornments. High waist, a raised collar for elegance. Colors—misty silver, with a trace of calming blue.”

Aiko tilted her head. “Why a skirt? Why not pants?”

“There is a code here,” Yarami said firmly but kindly. “And you will appear before the king’s court. It must be respected.”

Aiko looked at Yarami questioningly. Yarami answered before she could ask.

“This dress fits you perfectly. Akihiko has to defend himself before the council. He used the teleport without permission. But don’t worry; I think the advisors will understand. You’ll just be there—no questions asked. But you must be dressed according to palace rules.”

The assistant approached to Aiko with the finished dress.

Aiko’s eyes widened. “How… how is it already here?”

Yarami smiled knowingly. “Akarihoshi fluid fabric. Once scanned, it constructs itself immediately. Seamless. Perfect fit. Watch.”

The dress shimmered to life in Aiko’s hands—fabric smooth and cool, subtly shifting color with each movement. When she slipped it on, it flowed across her body like it belonged there.

For the first time, Aiko smiled faintly. It feels strange… but not in a bad way. Almost as if this dress… is part of me.

“This isn’t attire to impress,” Yarami added warmly. “It’s attire that says: I respect your rules, but I remain myself. Perfect for you.”

Aiko said nothing, but nodded as the assistant handed her the shoes—low, cushioned, edged with a faint glowing line that sparkled softly, like walking on starlight.

Aiko took a few tentative steps. The skirt swayed like water; the sleeves floated softly with her movements. For the first time, she felt she could breathe in this foreign world.

Akihiko’s voice came again from the doorway.

“Aura, is it appropriate for me to enter?”

“Yes,” Aura replied.

The door slid open. Akihiko stepped inside, his gaze immediately drawn to Aiko. His eyes softened in quiet surprise.

“You look… as if you belong here,” he said warmly. Then, turning to Yarami: “Thank you. You’ve surpassed expectations once again.”

Yarami bowed slightly, her expression pleased but professional.

Aiko felt her cheeks warm under Akihiko’s gaze, caught between discomfort and a strange new confidence.

"This is strange…", she thought. "I don’t know how to describe what I am feeling."

Akihiko lingered nearby, silent. He watched her with quiet admiration unable to look away.

Yarami could se the way Akihiko was enchanted by Aiko, and instructed her to sit, stand, turn. Each motion revealed the dress’s harmony with her body, fabric whispering with every shift. The sleeves shimmered softly as she lifted her arms, flowing with her rather than against her. The light from the window danced across Aiko’s dress, making it appear alive, as though she were woven into Akarihoshi itself.

Akihiko’s gaze was still fixed on her, his expression remained calm, but his heart skipped a beat. Question began to form in his thoughts.

“Her presence… How can someone look so delicate and yet so strong at the same time? As if she carries both fire and light within her.”

“This is… actually very pleasant,” Aiko admitted to Yarami with a shy smile.

“Pleasant and honorable,” Yarami agreed. “That is the essence of true attire—respecting tradition, without losing yourself.”

At last, Yarami and her assistant bowed and left the chamber, leaving the two alone.