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Yusuke settles into his usual spot on the floor near the window for a night of watching the stars. He will spend hours gazing into the heavens and has done so every night for as long as he can remember. Sleep always evaded him, sparing him only a handful of hours dispersed throughout the day, much to the displeasure of his Sensei.
Even if he could sleep, he’d fight the urge for as long as he could. The stars hold secrets and stories that they share with only the chosen few like him. This precious time when the world is quiet, save the night songs of nature, is the only time when he decides what he will and will not do, who he will be. Yusuke lives for the clear nights, when he can see and hear them best. Though his body remains bound in a barren room of a dilapidated construction governed by a harsh master, his mind is free to wander amongst the library of stars.
It was just such a night when he first saw it. In these skies to which he’s devoted his nights and affections, there appeared what looked to be a new star. His old companions, the stars that have always come and gone in comfortingly predictable patterns, knew nothing of this new body either. So he took notes of his observations night after night. With each cycle of 24 hours, the location changed. In a straight line, it was approaching the horizon until on the tenth night, it had disappeared completely. Yusuke was a bit sad to see the visitor go but quickly settled back into his contentment with the more faithful residents of heaven.
Two years went by, the strange gliding star becoming a regular though never staying long enough to share more than a few pleasantries. He’d reached high school and a prestigious one at that. It seemed to be destiny. Sure, he still didn’t have many friends—or any of substance for that matter—but here was a place where he was allowed and even encouraged to create in whatever style he saw fit instead of following the rigid teachings of a man who himself claimed to be in an artistic slump. And the very crest was none other than a star.
In this higher level of schooling, there was much more work to be done. Between the assignments for math and studio, he had to somehow conjure time to complete paintings for his guardian. He would much rather do the math. At least there was logic and a sense of fairness there.
His skill improved with each piece, a fact he could hardly celebrate as it meant more and more work for him to do. There came a time when he could no longer carve moments out of already emaciated hours. Sleep still evaded him, but now he didn’t even have the comfort of listening to the stars. There was just too much left to do each night.
And then it happened by chance. On a day when all else was failing him and whatever force had kept him going this long was diminished, he was searching through the shelves for a particular reference book when his old notebook fell at his feet. He spared himself a moment of blissful nostalgia and flipped through the pages. His talent had come a long way since he filled these pages, and yet part of him preferred the amateur diagrams and sketches here. A tiny spark stirred something in his chest as he shut the book once more and set it aside to answer his teacher’s call.
So here he sits in his old spot on the floor near the window for a night of watching the stars. Things rarely happen purely by chance; they must have something to tell him. But sitting here doesn’t feel the same as it did years ago. He almost feels silly for indulging such childish ideas as “listening to the stars.” There is great inspiration to be gained from observing their beauty, for certain, but stars cannot speak, no matter how much one may wish they could.
The thought is barely complete in his mind when he spies it. The gliding star. He stands faster than his mind can move, an unfortunate knee-jerk reaction as his forehead hits the windowsill. Rubbing the now tender spot, he gazes upward, the spark from earlier igniting a small flickering flame in his chest.
He’s always wondered where this star goes, where it spends the other 356 nights of each year once it bids him farewell. An absurd desire fans the flame into a full fledged fire in his heart. Who knows where he’ll be this time next year? And he’s already made a rather reckless decision to take a break for the evening for something so trivial as enjoying a view. Why not take it a step further or maybe two or as many steps as it takes to reach the proverbial pot of gold at the end of the rainbow?
Before Reason has the chance to talk him out of it, Yusuke snatches up his notebook, two sketchbooks and a few clothes, throwing them all into a bag and grabbing his keys before tip-toeing out into the night. He orients himself according to his years of observations and begins to walk the star’s path.
He spends the days walking, riding trains and taking cabs, sketching whatever catches his eye as he sits for light meals, and ignoring phone calls from the one number other than a class group chat he has saved in his contacts. At night he follows the star, keeping to the shadows and doing his utmost to stay quiet lest he interrupt the stars’ oratorios set to the chorus of nocturnal earth.
It’s dusk on the ninth night, the last time the star will visit this year. While he has yet to find anything extraordinary, he’s content to have taken this journey, to have experienced more than just his route to school and the supply shops, to have done something purely for himself. Still, it would be a shame to turn his back on the gliding star without a proper goodbye. He puts away his sketchbook and walks on.
The path leads him to an open field of tall, soft grass on a gently rolling hill. He stops for a long while to take in the view, the simple unadulterated beauty before him humbling him and stirring his very core. For an unknown reason in the sublime peace of this moment, his heart begins to beat faster. His feet move onward.
He tops the hill and stops short. There appears to be someone else here. Yusuke steels his nerves and slowly walks on.
As he comes within shouting distance to the other wanderer, he can see them turned away from him, staring at a trail of red flowers. Yusuke’s heart is now rattling his ribcage. He stops walking.
“Ah, please forgive the intrusion,” he announces himself just loud enough for the person to hear without completely breaking the spell this wonderful place has cast. “May I ask your name?”
The young man turns to face him, his features dark yet in stark contrast to his hair. Yusuke mentally notes how the man before him resembles a star himself, his bright face nestled into his midnight colored mane. The stars themselves are doting on him, venturing from on high just to gently caress his surprised face.
Yusuke is in awe, his heart goading him forward once more, his brain lacking the wherewithal to even argue. He takes a step forward. The young man does the same until they have both crossed the field to stand only two paces apart.
“Are you Yusuke?” The young man’s voice is smooth and melodic even at a whisper. “They told me about you.”
“The stars?” He instantly regrets asking such a foolish question.
But the young man nods and points behind Yusuke to the endless line of blue flowers now standing in his wake, gradually fading into a deep, richly shade of purple in a small circle around them. A twinge rattles Yusuke’s already fluttering heart, and a name that in any other context would mean little to him crosses his mind, rolling off his inner voice’s tongue and igniting a cooling fire within him.
“Then you must be Akira?” he whispers as well, turning to gaze into those eyes the color of the shy side of the moon once more. The young man smiles, a kind, bashful quirk of the lips. They each take a single step forward, and it seems every star in the sky twinkles to rejoice, the gliding star itself appearing to shine directly on the two of them.