Takahashi stood frozen in the middle of the crowded gate, her fingers gripping the strap of her school bag so tightly her knuckles turned white.
Another new school. Another new sky I can't even see clearly anymore.
Tokyo was nothing like Hokkaido. There, the air had been crisp and quiet, the stars bright enough to count from her bedroom window. Here, everything pressed in — the roar of hundreds of voices, the sharp smell of exhaust mixed with cherry blossoms, the blinding sunlight bouncing off a thousand windows and metal gates. Her heart beat too fast, too loud in her ears. The world felt like it was squeezing her from all sides.
She kept her eyes fixed on the ground, counting the cracks in the pavement. One… two… three… four… If she counted long enough, maybe the world would slow down and the noise would fade.
"Mio Takahashi?" A teacher's voice called from the classroom doorway, warm but impatient. "Come in, please."
The classroom smelled of chalk dust, old wood, and too many bodies. Thirty pairs of eyes turned toward her as she stood at the front, shoulders hunched, her long black bangs falling over one eye like a shield she could hide behind.
"Everyone, this is Mio Takahashi. She transferred from Hokkaido. Please be kind to her."
Mio's mouth felt dry, like sandpaper. "N-nice to meet you…" she managed, her voice barely above a whisper. She could feel her cheeks burning.
She could already hear the whispers starting.
"She's kinda weird already."
"Space girl, right? Look at her staring out the window again."
Mio slid into the empty seat near the back, hands disappearing under the desk. Her fingers found the small star-shaped fidget ring in her pocket and began to spin it slowly. The cool metal was the only thing that felt steady in the chaos. The fluorescent lights above her buzzed louder than they should. Every laugh, every chair scrape, every pen click felt like it was happening inside her head.
Just get through today, she told herself, repeating it like a quiet mantra. The stars will be there tonight… even if they're faint.
The rest of the morning blurred by in a haze of noise and light. She tried to take notes, but her pencil kept drifting, drawing tiny constellations in the margins instead of kanji. When the lunch bell finally rang, she didn't wait. She grabbed her bag and slipped out of the classroom before anyone could say anything else.
During lunch break, Mio escaped to the rooftop. The wind was colder up here, biting gently at her cheeks, but the constant noise of the school finally fell away. She sat down on the old wooden bench, pulled her knees up to her chest, and opened her notebook. With soft, precise lines she drew the stars she remembered from Hokkaido — bright, sharp points against a dark sky, the way they used to shine so clearly from her old bedroom window.
Here it's just city lights. But they're still there. The stars only I can see.
The door behind her clicked open with a soft metallic sound.
"Hey… you're the new girl, right?"
Mio startled, her pencil freezing mid-stroke. Her heart jumped. A boy with messy dark hair and a sketchbook tucked under his arm stood in the doorway. She vaguely remembered him from class — Haru Nakamura from the art club. He was always sitting near the window, quietly drawing when he thought no one was looking.
He wasn't smirking like the others. He didn't have that mocking look in his eyes. He looked… genuinely curious.
"I saw your sketch earlier in class," Haru said softly, his voice calm and a little hesitant. "It's really beautiful."
Mio stared at him for a long moment, her fingers still gripping the pencil tightly. No one had ever said that about her drawings before. Most people just laughed or ignored her when she talked about stars. Her cheeks felt warm.
"You… actually looked?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Haru nodded and took one careful step closer, as if he knew she might bolt like a scared animal. "Yeah. The way you drew the constellations… it's like you really see them. Not just the ones in the sky, but the ones in your head too. The lines are so precise. It feels… alive."
Mio's fingers tightened around her notebook. She didn't know what to say. Part of her wanted to close the book and run, but another part — a small, tired part — wanted to believe him.
Behind Haru, one single star twinkled faintly above the endless sea of city lights and buildings, pushing through the haze and pollution like it refused to disappear.
For the first time that day, something in her chest felt lighter. Not fixed. Not magically better. Just… a little less heavy.
Different wiring… but maybe my stars can still connect.
She looked down at her notebook again, the half-finished constellation glowing softly under the afternoon light.
Maybe, just maybe, this new sky wasn't completely empty after all.
End of Chapter 1