Signals across the stars

Akihiko stepped into the quiet hallway, the soft hum of the palace filling the space around him. Moonlight streamed through the tall windows, casting silver streaks on the polished floor. His gaze caught Naoru standing on the balcony, gazing at the night sky, hands casually resting on the railing.

Naoru noticed him immediately and turned, a faint, knowing smile tugging at his lips.

“How is Aiko?” he asked quietly, his tone calm, yet threaded with concern.

Akihiko closed his eyes for a brief moment, inhaling slowly, centering himself.

“She’s asleep,” he replied softly. “She was a bit weak, so I made sure she could rest peacefully.”

Naoru nodded, the understanding in his gaze deep and steady.

“You took good care of her,” he said.

A small, almost imperceptible smile touched Akihiko’s lips, though worry still lingered behind his blue eyes.

“Thank you, Naoru. I hope she regains her strength soon.”

Naoru’s expression softened, though it carried a seriousness that belied his easy demeanor.

“So, Aiko is well. And you… how are you?”

Akihiko blinked, caught off guard by the question, and looked away, as if the act of answering might betray something deeper than he intended.

Naoru leaned lightly against the balcony railing, his voice lowering into a softer tone.

“You know, if you want, you can talk. Sometimes it’s easier when someone listens. To confide in them.”

For a long moment, Akihiko remained silent. The night wind rustled the leaves outside, carrying the faint scent of Akarihoshi’s flowers. Finally, he exhaled slowly.

“Maybe… it really is too much all at once. Thank you, Naoru, for standing by me.”

Naoru inclined his head slightly, his smile gentle but firm.

“Of course. You know I’ll always be here for you, my friend.”

Morning arrived softly at Akarihoshi palace. Light filtered through the large window, bathing Aiko’s chamber in a warm, diffused glow. She stirred under the covers, her body feeling unusually heavy, her head slightly throbbing. The room smelled faintly of herbal tea, a comforting aroma that somehow eased the grogginess pressing against her temples.

As she tried to shift, a small whimper escaped her lips. The door slid open quietly, and Mika stepped in, clad in a dark blue uniform with crisp white accents. Her hair was tied neatly, though a few loose strands framed her face. Relief was evident in her eyes, mixed with lingering concern.

“Aiko,” Mika whispered, hurrying to her side. “Finally, you’re awake…”

Aiko nodded weakly, lips parted, but no sound came out. Mika understood instinctively and took her hand gently, her touch firm but warm.

“How do you feel?” Mika asked softly.

“Tired,” Aiko murmured.

Mika’s gaze lingered on her for a moment, and then a small smile appeared. “The important thing is that you’re getting better.”

Reaching into her pocket, Mika pulled out a thin, round device that glimmered faintly in the morning light. She placed it carefully in Aiko’s hand.

“Here, Aiko,” she said quietly. “I think you need this too.”

Aiko turned it over in her palm, her eyes wide with curiosity.

“And… what is this?”

Mika smiled warmly.

“A StarCom. Like your smartwatch back home. If you ever feel unwell, dizzy, or just want to reach someone—you give a voice command. It connects you to me, Akihiko, Dr. Miraya, Naoru… anyone you want.”

The device pulsed softly in her hand, as if alive, responding to the presence of its new user. Aiko let it settle on her wrist, where it adhered gently, almost as if it recognized her.

“Thank you, Mika,” Aiko whispered.

“You don’t need to thank me,” Mika replied. “I just thought you really needed it. Yesterday… I was worried. Even though I understand it’s just the atmosphere here, it’s still scary when someone you care about is unwell.”

Aiko managed a faint, tired smile. “Thank you… Mika.”

After Mika left, the chamber was filled with a soft, contemplative quiet. Only the rustle of the curtains and the distant calls of creatures of Akarihoshi broke the silence. Aiko sat up on the bed, legs tucked beneath her, examining the StarCom.

“How… complex and futuristic,” she murmured.

The device lit up softly and spoke, its voice calm and personalized.

“Connection established. All functions operating normally, Aiko.”

Aiko blinked at it, a small laugh escaping her lips.

“I don’t know whether to call you a friend… or a strange gadget that might drive me crazy.”

The communicator pulsed again, as if affirming her words playfully.

Aiko’s thoughts wandered, drifting to someone else. “I wonder… did Akihiko ask Mika to bring me this?” she murmured.

At the mention of his name, the device pulsed brighter.

“Name: Akihiko detected. Would you like to establish a connection with Akihiko Miyahara?”

Aiko froze. Her pulse quickened.

“Yes, no! I mean… no… yes… or… no!”

The device didn’t wait for clarification. A soft light pulsed, signaling the call was in progress.

Elsewhere, in the palace, Akihiko was surrounded by floating holograms detailing atmospheric currents and teleportation repairs. He was deep in thought, yet the glow of the incoming call pulled his attention immediately.

INCOMING CALL: AIKO TAKAHASHI

His breath hitched. “Aiko?” he whispered. Moments later, he accepted the call.

A hologram flickered to life before him: Aiko, slightly disheveled from sleep, cheeks flushed, eyes wide with surprise.

“Uh… hey…” she said softly, a shy smile tugging at her lips. “I think… I called by accident.”

Akihiko remained silent for a few seconds, then allowed a gentle, relieved smile to form.

“I see you’re awake and have received your StarCom,” he said.

“I didn’t know… it talks. And… that it… takes everything seriously,” she replied, glancing down at the device.

“Yes,” he said faintly, “quite self-initiated. But I’m glad you called. Even by accident.”

A pause stretched between them, filled with unspoken warmth.

“I hope you’re feeling stronger,” Akihiko added softly.

Aiko met his gaze through the hologram, the embarrassment in her cheeks flickering alongside a spark of something new—curiosity, maybe even a little fondness.

“Thank you… I feel better,” she whispered.

Flustered and unsure, she glanced at the StarCom.

“Uh… end transmission? Or… stop the connection? How do I… turn this off?”

Akihiko chuckled quietly, the sound light and genuine.

“You can just say, ‘disconnect.’”

Aiko hesitated, then mumbled the word softly:

“Disconnect!”

The communicator responded with a soft pulse:

“Connection terminated.”

Silence reclaimed the room. Aiko buried her face in her hands, whispering to herself:

“Seriously, Aiko… bravo.”

Far away, Akihiko lingered on his chair, the empty holographic space before him still echoing with her voice.

“Stop the connection,” he murmured with a faint smile. “That was funny.”

Even surrounded by the weight of his duties, the night had left him with a strange warmth he couldn’t quite explain.