After returning home, Arisu Sakayanagi didn't waste a single second. As if nothing were wrong, she stood up from her wheelchair without even using her cane, grabbed the package in one hand, and staggered her way into her bedroom.
Atsuki was so startled by the sudden action that her heart almost stopped. Thankfully, Arisu managed to sit down safely in her chair.
"Good heavens, my lady... you really scared me just now! Do you have any idea how dangerous that was?
What if you had fallen and hurt yourself? What if you hit your head and forgot who Kotomi is? Or what if you injured your legs even worse and ended up bedridden, making Kotomi take care of you for life—dragging her down forever?" Atsuki scolded, genuinely upset.
While her concern partly came from her role as a maid, Atsuki had also cared for Arisu since childhood. Over time, that care had evolved into something akin to a mother-daughter bond. Arisu would even occasionally call her "Atsuki-neesan."
Knowing she was in the wrong, Arisu stuck out her tongue in embarrassment. "I got a little too excited~ Atsuki, could you get me some scissors?"
"Right away. But my lady, don't move around on your own until I get back, alright? If you must walk, at least use your cane." After giving that firm reminder, Atsuki headed to the kitchen to fetch the scissors.
Though Arisu's earlier stunt had frightened her, it was hard to ignore the silver lining: her lady had managed to stand up from her wheelchair, walk from the living room to her bedroom, and sit down—all without assistance or even a cane.
Her steps had been clumsy, yes, but the undeniable fact was—Arisu could now walk a short distance on her own.
That, for both Arisu and the entire Sakayanagi family, was huge news.
Ever since she was diagnosed with a congenital heart condition in childhood, Arisu had never been able to walk like a normal person. At first, she needed a wheelchair. Later, she upgraded to using a cane. Even the doctors had said that while her health might improve, she would likely never walk normally again.
Because she hadn't walked properly in over a decade, the muscle memory and physical development weren't there. Even when she walked with a cane, it was clear her gait was uneven—her left foot often stepped too hard, while her right foot struggled to find balance.
More than ten years of not walking properly meant that even if her illness was cured and her body regained strength, there was no guarantee she could walk normally again.
The prime time for learning how to walk is during early childhood—and Arisu had already missed that window.
No one else knew this, but Atsuki remembered one outing to the park when she had taken Arisu for a walk. Arisu, sitting in her wheelchair, had gazed at a group of children playing nearby and softly said:
"I really wish I could move around like everyone else—without a wheelchair or a cane, walking and running freely."
A moment ago, Atsuki's entire being had been consumed by worry.
But now, seeing Arisu safely back in her room, and remembering the way she had walked—however unsteady—without aid...
Atsuki felt warm tears gathering in her eyes.
Maybe, just maybe, one day, her lady would realize her dream of walking freely, without wheelchair or cane.
"Your scissors, my lady," Atsuki said as she handed them over. She also brought the cane along, just in case.
"Thanks. You can go now," Arisu said softly as she accepted the scissors.
Atsuki nodded and left. Even if Arisu hadn't said anything, she would've stepped out on her own.
She had seen clearly the depth of Arisu's feelings for Kotomi Izumi. Even if they were both girls, Atsuki wasn't surprised—after seeing Kotomi's face, anyone would immediately feel the impulse to pursue her.
Even if they were both girls—she didn't care!
Arisu swiftly cut through the tape on the package with the scissors. Inside the cardboard box was a foam casing, and wrapped within a layer of bubble wrap was what appeared to be a teacup.
After removing the bubble wrap, she realized—it really was a teacup!
Looking closely, Arisu recognized it immediately as a famous specialty from Kyoto: Kiyomizu-yaki.
The swirling pattern on the teacup resembled the galaxy deep in space. Just holding it in her hands gave her a dreamy sense of beauty, as if she were cradling a piece of the starry sky itself.
"Such a beautiful Kiyomizu-yaki... Kotomi chose this specific pattern just for me. How thoughtful. I wasn't really interested in stars before, but now... I suddenly am. I should buy a telescope later."
Arisu carefully cradled the "River of Stars" in her palms. She owned many teacups that were far more expensive and collectible than this one—but in her heart, none of them could compare to the one Kotomi had given her.
After removing the foam casing, she spotted a letter inside the box.
A letter?
In an era where text messages and instant communication reigned, handwritten letters had become rare, like waves crashing and vanishing on the sands of time. In this internet-saturated age, receiving a physical letter was a rare and precious thing.
Arisu was instantly intrigued. Knowing it was a letter personally written by Kotomi, she eagerly yet cautiously opened the envelope and took out the stationery inside.
She sat down on the bed, back straight, posture perfect. Since childhood, she had been trained to maintain perfect posture while sitting, standing, and walking—though walking and standing were beyond her abilities due to her physical condition. Sitting, at least, she could do properly.
"So Kotomi isn't very confident about making it to the third round of the exhibition? Well, that makes sense. Shiina Mashiro is also competing this time. A world-class genius in a contest meant for middle and high school students... that's like a final boss showing up to destroy everyone."
Reading about Kotomi's anxiety over whether she could make it into the third round and win the national art prize, Arisu suddenly felt like calling her parents and asking them to throw money at the organizers to rig the contest in Kotomi's favor.
But then she thought better of it. Kotomi would clearly hate something like that. If she made such a decision on her own, not only would Kotomi be upset, but it might damage the slowly growing closeness between them.
So Arisu gave up on that idea and simply prayed in her heart that Kotomi would make it through to the final round and win.
"The second round of the exhibition is at the Tokyo Metropolitan Art Museum? That's pretty close. If it happens to fall on a weekend, maybe I can go see it. Even if it doesn't, I'll find an excuse and skip school to go."
As for the rule that only selected participants could attend the first two rounds—and that the exhibitions wouldn't be open to the public or ticketed...
Frankly speaking, Arisu didn't care. With the Sakayanagi family's connections and resources, getting into an exhibition like that was child's play.
They wouldn't even need to pull strings. A bit of sponsorship money would be enough to get her in.
Art may value spirit and meaning, but in the real world, even artists need money to eat.
—"Is this Kiyomizu-yaki teacup beautiful? I picked it out just for you~"
"She picked it especially for me?!! This teacup must never be used! I'm going to preserve it forever—no, it's a family heirloom! I'll build a maximum-security vault just for it. One that can survive missile strikes. It will be the sanctuary for this cup Kotomi gave me."
After reading the last line of Kotomi's letter, Arisu's eyes sparkled. She smiled, captivated, reading the letter over and over again.
Meanwhile, Yukino Yukinoshita had long since returned home. She, too, had already opened the box containing Kotomi's Kiyomizu-yaki gift and her handwritten letter.
As she read through it, her eyes gradually welled with tears.
Yukino Yukinoshita, who had read countless literary masterpieces, was now moved to tears—by a single letter from Kotomi.
When Yukino first opened the package and saw that it contained not only a Kiyomizu-yaki teacup but also a letter, she was truly surprised. She hadn't expected that Kotomi would not only send her a gift—but write her a letter too?
Caught off guard, Yukino found all her attention drawn to the letter. By the time she realized what she was doing, she had already opened the envelope and was holding the letter in her hands.
Kotomi giving her a gift was understandable. After all, people often brought back local specialties as souvenirs when traveling. But a letter, in addition to the gift...
Yukino lowered her gaze slightly, unsure how to describe what she was feeling. She murmured to herself, "Kotomi included a handwritten letter with my gift... Is she trying to tell me, in her own way, that I'm important to her?"
If it had been in the past, such a thought would've made Yukino scoff at herself for being delusional. But now, Kotomi's actions made it hard to deny that maybe—just maybe—this was truly the case.
Gifts, Kotomi might have bought for everyone.
But the letter—perhaps she had written it only for her.
Yukino was quite certain of this idea. In her eyes, Kotomi was the type who would lazily grumble and drag her feet even when copying ancient poems for homework. A girl like that definitely didn't enjoy writing by hand. For her to sit down and write multiple letters? Impossible.
The more Yukino thought about it, the more she became convinced that this was the only letter Kotomi had written—and it was for her.
"A letter just for me... I've never received a personal letter before," Yukino said softly, reading through Kotomi's handwriting, line by line.
The night is long, sleepless, restless, and filled with tossing and turning. When I wrote this letter, it was my first night in Kyoto. The bed is comfortable, but I just can't sleep... The bustling night view is a kind of beauty, like a treasure held in the palms of the world. Yet, a silent night view is its own kind of beauty.
"Kotomi's writing has so much feeling. If she tried writing a novel, she might even win an award," Yukino said with a faint smile tugging at the corner of her lips.
The unstructured style, ignoring proper formatting, conveyed pure emotion and longing, letting the reader instantly feel how important they were to the writer. Yukino found herself very susceptible to this kind of sentiment.
Despite her cold demeanor and preference for dense literary classics, she was actually a romantic girl who secretly enjoyed reading romance novels.
The stars in the night sky seem countless and close together, but do they have a language of communication? If not, then each star must be a lonely existence in the endless night, unable to connect.
"She remembered I once said that?" Yukino's lips parted slightly in surprise as she saw Kotomi reference her exact words in the letter.
She had read a sci-fi novel with a very tragic ending once, and it had left her deeply moved. But she hadn't known who to share those feelings with.
Right then, Kotomi had passed by, noticed the book, and said, "Yukino, are you reading a sci-fi novel? I love those too! That one looks so interesting—can I borrow it after you're done?"
Seeing Kotomi genuinely interested, Yukino had readily agreed. She wasn't sure why, but in just a few sentences, Kotomi had gotten her talking—and they'd ended up discussing the novel for over an hour. She had never spoken that much with anyone before.
Looking back on it, Yukino had even suspected Kotomi might be some kind of mischievous witch who toyed with people's hearts. But she couldn't deny it—she loved talking with Kotomi. Every time she finished reading a book, she had so many thoughts she wanted to share. But because she...
Because of her aloof nature, she had no one to talk to.
After entering high school, she had finally gained a few friends—Kotomi among them. But Megumi Kato and Yui Yuigahama couldn't really understand the literary classics Yukino read, so there was no one she could share or discuss them with.
It was understandable. After all, the books Yukino read were usually in English or German, often in their original editions. Yui, who struggled with even regular English tests, would rather be sentenced to death than read an untranslated foreign classic.
Understanding the content would be a miracle in itself!
That was why, when Kotomi was able to understand the books she read and talk about them with her, Yukino had been so happy.
It wasn't that she disliked speaking—she simply had few people who ever spoke to her.
—"Amid the vast expanse of the starry sky, countless stars exist, bright yet lonely, with no means of communication. But I believe that among them, a miracle exists: perhaps two stars can share a secret language only they understand, whispering messages no one else can hear."
Drip. Drip.
Tears slipped down Yukino's cheeks.
And then more, harder to stop with each moment.
Kotomi's words seemed to reach deep into her heart and gently pull out her hidden loneliness, rendering all her years of practiced composure completely useless.
She thought back to the tragic ending of that sci-fi novel, and when she read Kotomi's line, her sadness was laced with beauty. The tears came faster—like a melting glacier turning into rivulets of thawing snow.
Yukino gently set the unfinished letter aside. She was afraid her tears might stain the pages. She wanted to preserve Kotomi's letter with great care.
After some time had passed, and her emotions had softened slightly, she wiped her tears, took a deep breath, and picked the letter up again, reading on.
I've given those two stars names: one is the Yukino Star, and the other is the Kotomi Star.
As she read, the ice-cold mask that always graced Yukino's beautiful face melted into a blush of shyness, like a pot of snowy sake warming under a flame.
Even though she was home alone, Yukino still glanced nervously around, afraid her mother might suddenly appear. Then, she clutched the letter Kotomi had written tightly to her chest.
"Ko-Kotomi... sh-she...!"
Her heart thumped wildly. That refined and reserved air of hers was completely gone—her whole face felt like it was on fire.
How could Kotomi write something so bold in a letter to her?!
Yukino had read many romance novels, but in that moment, she felt that all the lines in those books combined still couldn't compare to Kotomi's one simple, heartfelt sentence.
At the same time, Yukino began to panic. What should she do with this letter?
If her mother or sister were to find it...
Even setting her sister aside, if her mother saw it—and realized Kotomi came from a modest background—she wouldn't do something dramatic like handing Kotomi a card with ten million yen and saying, "Leave my daughter."
But with her mother's competitive nature, it was very possible she'd find ways to pressure Kotomi to stay away.
"I absolutely cannot let anyone else see this letter!" Yukino gritted her teeth. The most secure option was to destroy it right now—rip it to pieces and toss it away.
But she couldn't bear to. She had never received a handwritten letter from anyone before. Since birth, this was her first.
Kotomi had written it so beautifully, with heartfelt emotion that moved her to tears.
Her eyes shifted, searching for a solution, until they landed on a thick book on her nearby bookshelf.
She had bought it a while ago but never finished it. Not because she disliked the stock market content—it was just so heavy and dense. She had planned to read it during a weekend in one go, but half a year had passed and she hadn't even read the first page.
Yukino pulled the book out, compared the size, and smiled.
Perfect.
She carefully opened the book to the middle and slipped the letter inside, gently closing it so as not to crease the precious pages.
After returning the book to the shelf, she finally let out a long sigh of relief.
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