Chapter Text
As long as Tsukasa could remember, he had been a sickly child. He caught colds very often, and when that happened, he could spend two weeks lying in bed. He was smaller and weaker than his peers. Tenma was still an active child, but he got tired much faster than the others. His muscles would start to ache very quickly, to the point that even moving a finger took a tremendous effort, and his lungs would constrict from the lack of air. His sister was completely different. Saki was very active and always eager to do something. She would go out with her friends every day, play with Tsukasa, and practice piano with him and their mother. Saki rarely got sick. She was a sturdy child and felt very sad every time her Onii-chan fell ill. They were very close, unlike any other siblings.
***
That day, their mother decided to take them to a performance. Sitting in the audience with Saki on his right and their mother on his left, Tsukasa fidgeted in anticipation, glancing between the stage and the brochure in his hands. When the lights in the hall went out and the music began to play... no one could take their enchanted eyes away. It was not just a show; it was... something amazing! The music, the decorations, the actors—everything was top-notch! It was so magical, so enchanting and mesmerizing that little Tsukasa couldn’t divert his attention from the performance for even a second. His eyes were wide open, and his little hands nervously clutched the program that his mother had given him. It was... a real fairy tale.
***
When the show ended, Saki joyfully tugged at her brother’s sleeve, chirping in a voice as bright as a bell about how wonderful the show had been. But the boy, to his own shame, didn’t really listen. The blond boy slowly got up from his seat, still mentally caught in the moment when the main actor delivered the final line, concluding the story. The way he shone, how everyone around smiled, even Tsukasa himself... he wanted to make everyone smile just as widely and brightly.
They were already on their way home with their mother when the boy snapped out of his thoughts and stared at his sister, who was smiling broadly and loudly telling their mother something. He had never seen her smile so widely before... Yes, she smiled a lot... But this smile was entirely different. It was bright, almost ear-to-ear, warm like the summer sun, and it made something in Tenma’s chest turn over.
“Onii-chan, are you okay? You seem quiet after the show; didn’t you like it?” the girl with two pigtails asked innocently.
“No, no, it was just amazing!” he exclaimed, waving his arms as if trying to convey all his excitement. “It was... it was like I stepped into another world! Did you see how they moved? How they sang? It was... it was...”
“—Magical?” Mrs. Tenma said softly, smoothing her son’s light hair.
Beaming, the boy nodded a couple of times and looked back at his sister. Her happy smile caught his eye again.
Then an idea popped into Tsukasa’s head. No, it was as if the brightest light bulb in the world had lit up and illuminated everything inside his little head.
“—Mom... Saki...” Tsukasa began, his voice trembling with a kind of excitement. “—I... I want to be a star!”
“—A star?” his mother asked, continuing to ruffle the boy's hair. “—What do you mean, Tsukasa?”
“—I want people to smile when they look at me!” the boy exclaimed, his eyes shining with delight. “—I want to bring joy and fun, just like those actors! I want everyone around to be happy!”
Saki laughed brightly.
“—Onii-chan, that’s so cool! You’re definitely going to be the brightest star!”
Mrs. Tenma looked at her children with warmth. She stopped and embraced the little ones around their shoulders.
“— Tsukasa,” she said, “— if you really want this, know that your dad and I will always support you. But you have to understand that it will take a lot of effort and patience. Are you ready for that?”
“— I’m ready!” the blond boy declared resolutely, pressing against the warm side of the woman. “— I will try really hard! I will make everyone smile!”
A few weeks later, inspired by the show he had seen, Tsukasa decided to organize his own performance. His audience consisted of the most grateful: Saki and Toya, a quiet and shy boy, a student of their mother, who often visited them and was like a younger brother to Tsukasa and Saki.
He prepared for a long time, rehearsing in front of the mirror, trying to replicate the movements he had seen on stage. He even asked his mother to help him with a costume, and she sewed him a small cape, which he believed made him look like a real performer.
While Tsukasa was preparing everything, Saki ran around, cheering her brother on and helping him with props.
And finally, everything was ready. Saki eagerly settled on the couch, while Toya, always calm and a bit shy, sat next to her, watching Tsukasa with a slight smile. The blond boy took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart. Smiling, he began with a small bow, just like the actors did on stage, and then started his performance.
The boy played a short story about a prince and a princess who was kidnapped by an evil sorcerer, and the prince set out to save her. Naturally, Tsukasa was the prince, the princess was a plush rabbit—Saki’s favorite toy—and the role of the sorcerer was played by a slightly worn-out teddy bear. He walked back and forth, striking dramatic poses, gesturing energetically, and trying his best. Saki laughed and clapped her hands, while Toya, in silent admiration, couldn’t take his eyes off the older boy.
But the longer the performance lasted, the more tired Tsukasa felt. His breathing became heavier, his muscles began to ache, his vision started to blur, but he didn’t want to stop. He wanted this moment of happiness to last forever. He wanted Saki and Toya to continue looking at him with the same admiration he had for the actors in the theater. He wanted them to keep smiling.
He was just about to say his next line when he suddenly felt that his body had become too heavy. Darkness clouded his vision, his legs buckled, and he lost consciousness, collapsing to the floor with a dull thud.
Saki screamed in terror and rushed to her brother, calling his name, while Toya jumped off the couch and, overcoming his shock, ran to find Mrs. Tenma.
The happy day ended with a ride in an ambulance to the nearest hospital and a long, agonizing wait.
Tsukasa woke up in a hospital room. Bright light pierced his eyes, forcing him to squint. He tried to move, but a sharp pain shot through his whole body. His head throbbed, and his mouth felt dry. He struggled to open his eyelids and looked around. White walls, an IV drip, a beeping machine next to the bed—everything indicated that he was in a hospital.
He tried to remember what had happened. Memories flooded back suddenly: the living room, Saki and Toya, his performance... the sudden weakness and the darkness that followed. He had lost consciousness again.
Fear gripped his small body. He was sick again. He was back in the hospital. How many times had this happened already? He had lost count. Every time he started to feel better, every time he began to believe that everything would be alright, the illness returned, robbing him of strength and hope.
He looked at his hand, which was connected to the IV. Thin tubes stretched from it to the machine, pumping medication into his frail body. He hated that medicine. It helped him stay functional, but at the same time, it made him feel weak and helpless.
In the ward, Tsukasa's mom and dad entered. His mother’s eyes were red from crying, but she tried to smile, while his dad frowned, and there was something heavy and nervous in his gaze.
“— Tsukasa, you’re awake!” the woman exclaimed, rushing to him and gently hugging him. “— How do you feel?”
“— It hurts,” he whispered, feeling how he could barely move his tongue.
“— I know, sweetie,” his mom said, stroking his head. “— But everything will be alright. The doctors say you just need to rest.”
Tsukasa knew she was saying this to comfort him, but he didn’t quite believe her. He knew the illness wouldn’t go away. It would always be with him, like a ticking time bomb strapped to his leg with no way to remove it. Sighing heavily and putting in a great effort, the blond boy weakly embraced his mom and buried his face in her shoulder.
At night, when everyone had fallen asleep, Tsukasa lay in his bed, looking out the window. The stars were shining in the sky.
The starry sky... He loved watching those twinkling dots floating in the ink of the night sky. Lying on the hospital bed, he caught the starlight with his eyes, so distant yet so close, nurturing a fragile hope in his little heart. A hope that one day he too would become like those heavenly lights and bring smiles to people, just as they were making the corners of his lips lift right now. Yes, despite everything, he would become a star, and then his little sister, mom, and dad would smile... He would give them smiles, becoming the brightest star the world had ever seen.
He tightened his grip on the edge of the blanket and remembered his performance, the bright smiles of Saki and Toya. He recalled how he had ignited a dream to become a star, to bring joy to people. And then a weak, yet still warm hope flared up in his heart.
Tsukasa would not let the illness break him. He would fight. He would train. He would become a star, no matter what.
He closed his eyes and imagined himself on stage, in front of a huge crowd of spectators. He was singing, dancing, and joking, playing the role of some character, making everyone laugh and smile. He would shine like the brightest star in the sky.
And this thought warmed his heart and helped him fall asleep.
The days in the hospital dragged slowly and monotonously. In the morning—doctor rounds, injections, pills. During the day—boring games and books that he read with difficulty because his vision often let him down due to the weakness of his eye muscles. In the evening—dinner and once again the stars in the window.
Tsukasa tried not to be discouraged. He forced himself to do exercises despite the weakness and pain in his muscles. He invented new stories and plays, writing them down in a notebook, hoping to perform them for Saki and Toya soon. He dreamed of the day when he would leave the hospital and return to a normal life.
But the illness did not recede. Sometimes he felt better, and he could even walk a little in the corridor or play with other kids from the neighboring wards. But then a flare-up would occur, and he would find himself confined to bed again.
The doctors did not give any precise forecasts. They talked about some autoimmune disease that affected the muscles and nerves. As it turned out, he had “won” a genetic lottery, as this disease rarely occurs in children, especially boys. They mentioned that he would need to continue taking medication constantly to suppress his immune system and follow a strict regimen of procedures.
Tsukasa listened to them and understood that his dream of becoming a star was becoming more and more elusive. How could he perform on stage if his body refused to obey him? How could he bring joy to people if he himself was forcing a smile through sheer will?
But he tried not to despair. He continued with therapy despite the pain and fatigue. He kept dreaming despite all the difficulties. He believed that one day he would definitely recover and become a star.
One night, while lying in his bed and looking at the stars again, an idea came to him. He realized that even in the hospital, he could bring joy to people. He could tell his stories, sing songs, and act out scenes for other patients. He could become a star for those around him.
And he began to take action. He started visiting the neighboring rooms, getting to know the patients and their families. He shared funny stories of his own creation and sang songs. He put on small performances using simple makeshift materials.
And people smiled. They laughed. They forgot about their illnesses and problems. They thanked him for bringing them hope.
Tsukasa realized that he had found his calling. He understood that a star is not only someone who performs on stage. A star is someone who brings light and joy to others.
And he decided that he would be a star, no matter where he was.
Time passed. The years spent in the hospital left their mark. Tsukasa grew up, but he remained confined to the hospital bed more often than he would have liked. He continued his small performances for the patients and staff, trying not to show his fatigue or pain. He smiled, joked, and entertained, as a true star should. And people truly loved him for it, for the light he brought to them.
But inside him, a strange feeling grew. He saw how other patients suffered, how they fought for their lives, how they lost hope. He saw severely ill children, elderly people who were nearing the end of their lives, and began to think that his own problems were trivial compared to their grief.
"I don’t have cancer like Naoki-san from the next room," he thought. "And I don’t have as terrible an injury as that boy, Yukichi, after the accident. I’m just a little weaker than the others. I just need to rest more. It’s not that bad."
He tried not to complain or cry, not to show his weakness. After all, a star must be strong and confident. A star should inspire others, not burden them with their problems. And he smiled. He smiled during therapy, when each step was met with dull pain and required immense effort. He smiled when taking the horrendously unpleasant and disgusting medicines. He smiled when he wanted nothing more than to scream and cry into his pillow.
Nurses and older patients often praised him for his optimism and cheerfulness. They said he was a true ray of light in this gloomy place. Tsukasa accepted their compliments with gratitude, but deep down he felt like a fraud. He knew that his smile was far from as sincere as they thought; behind it lay pain and fear, not happiness and hope.
Saki and his parents visited him regularly. Saki always brought him new books, telling him about her school adventures and how she spent time with her friends. His parents also tried to support him morally and provide him with everything he needed. But Tsukasa noticed how their faces clouded with sadness when they saw him in the hospital room. He felt guilty for causing them pain.
One day, when Saki was telling him about her latest adventures with Ich-chan and the others, Tsukasa suddenly interrupted her.
“Saki, I’m sorry I can’t be there for you,” he said, lowering his eyes. “I’m a bad older brother.”
“Tsukasa-nii, don’t say that!” Saki exclaimed, hugging him. “I know you’re doing everything you can. The most important thing is that you get better!”
But Tsukasa knew she was being dishonest. He saw how she missed the times when they played and had fun together. He felt that he was becoming a burden to his family.
His parents also tried not to show their anxiety, but Tsukasa could see them exchanging glances when the doctors spoke about his condition. He heard their quiet conversations at night behind the door, full of worry and concern. He knew his parents were doing everything they could to help, but he felt that he himself was not doing enough.
And finally, the long-awaited day had come. After many years spent in the hospital, the day of discharge had arrived. Tsukasa stood at the entrance of the hospital, inhaling the fresh air deeply and smiling brightly from ear to ear. He felt both happy and a little anxious. Happy because he was finally returning to normal life. Anxious because he didn't know what awaited him ahead.
Saki and his parents stood beside him, beaming with joy. They hugged him, congratulated him, and expressed how much they had missed him. Tsukasa smiled back at them, trying to hide his nervousness.
"Are you ready to get back to life?" his father asked, patting him on the shoulder.
"Ready!" Tsukasa replied decisively, straightening his back. "I will definitely become a star, just wait and see!"
***
The first thing Tsukasa decided to do after his discharge and acclimatization at home was to return to school. His parents, of course, suggested homeschooling, but the young man flatly refused. He didn't want to be a recluse for the rest of his life; he craved communication with his peers and longed to feel that wonderful sensation of being with friends again!
He diligently studied at home with tutors, poring over textbooks and notes, all to catch up on what he had missed. As a result, after passing the exams for the previous year that he had missed, the blond boy transferred to the second year of Kamiyama High School. He had actually enrolled the previous year, but he could only attend for two months before his illness flared up again, and he ended up back in the hospital.
His first day at school was... interesting. He tried to make a good impression on his classmates. He was loud, energetic, joked a lot, and struck cool poses. He wanted to show that he was a true star, an interesting and fun person.
But the reaction of his classmates was not quite what he had expected. Many of them looked at him with surprise, some with confusion, and some even with mockery. They whispered behind his back and avoided his gaze.
Tsukasa felt awkward and uncomfortable. He didn’t understand what he had done wrong. He was just acting as he always had. In the hospital, he had always behaved energetically, and people immediately warmed up to him... Was he really doing something wrong?
He noticed that many kept their distance, and his attempts to start a conversation often ended in awkward silence. His expressiveness, which he considered his strength, seemed to repel people.
He tried not to pay attention to it and continued to act as if nothing was happening. He still smiled, joked, and pretended that he didn’t care what others thought of him. But deep down, he felt terribly lonely.
He tried to talk as little as possible about his illness and the time spent in the hospital. That topic was too painful and unpleasant for him. He wanted people to see him not as a sick and weak child, but as a talented and vibrant person. So he always tried to steer the conversation to other topics when someone asked about his health. When questioned about where he had been, Tsukasa would deflect with a succinct phrase: "Family circumstances." He pretended that everything was fine, that he wasn’t ill.
But despite the alienation in class, Tsukasa did not despair. He continued to study, attend school events, and try to be friendly with everyone. He believed that if he was persistent enough, he could achieve his goal and become a true star.
Gradually, most of the class began to treat him more tolerantly, even a little warmly, but no more than that. His brightness and uniqueness still seemed to repel them.
To this, Tenma simply smiled.
***
Two weeks had passed since the first day of school. Everything was relatively calm and... it was somewhat depressing. No matter how hard he tried, for the most part, everyone seemed indifferent to him or deliberately avoided him.
As he walked down the corridor after class, staring at the toes of his shoes, Tsukasa noticed an open classroom.
He was certainly not a fan of entering places without permission, but as soon as his eye caught the piano in the center of what he realized was the music room, the young man immediately set aside his doubts.
Gently opening the door and stepping inside, Tenma found himself holding his breath. Almost on tiptoes, he approached the instrument and tenderly lifted the lid off the keys.
He hadn't touched the piano since the day he last entered the hospital, almost a year ago. A heavy feeling settled in his chest.
Exhaling, the young man sat on the bench and placed his bag filled with textbooks and notebooks beside him. He just wanted to stretch his fingers, nothing more. Just... to remember what it felt like.
And then the first note echoed through the classroom. Then the second, the third, and slowly Tsukasa played a simple melody, closing his eyes and fully immersing himself in the music.
***
In his playing, Tenma didn’t notice how the classroom door creaked open and someone entered.
The blond was so absorbed and engrossed that he looked like an angel who had descended from the heavens to illuminate this mundane world.
His slender fingers danced across the keys like butterflies, and the notes that flowed from them made hearts flutter.
When the song ended, the young pianist opened his eyes and stared intently at his fingers, still resting on the black-and-white keys. Well, he hadn’t forgotten how to play, which was a relief!
Standing up and intending to head home, the boy turned toward the door and froze. Right in front of him, leaning against the doorframe, stood a tall young man with violet hair, yellow cat-like eyes, and a sly smile.
He seemed to be evaluating Tsukasa, looking him up and down, before his gaze settled, piercing into his honey-orange eyes.
An awkward pause lasted for a couple of dozen seconds before it was broken by the melodic voice of the stranger.
"–Hi," the boy said, or rather purred. Crossing his arms over his chest and stepping away from the passage, he leisurely approached Tsukasa and smiled with a soft yet cat-like cunning grin.