Reina sat in her lab, tablet in hand, legs tucked up on the rolling chair she often forgot to use for "actual rolling." Afternoon sunlight streamed through the small square window, catching the faint shimmer of the halo above her head. It hummed gently, the sound so subtle it was like a purring cat resting above her hair.
Her YouTube dashboard was a storm.
Three days since uploading her "Prototype Halo I–III" video, the numbers had already gone beyond anything she could have expected. Ten million views. Over half a million likes. Thousands upon thousands of comments scrolling endlessly, faster than her eyes could keep up.
She wasn't new to going viral—her classmates sometimes whispered about her weird projects making rounds online—but this? This was different. This wasn't just some oddball science clip. This was global.
Reina leaned closer, chin resting on her palm as she scrolled.
"This girl's a real-life anime protagonist.""How is she doing this in high school???""We're witnessing the start of history.""NASA better watch out."
Reina blinked, her lips twitching. They're dramatic, she thought. She wasn't a hero. She wasn't chasing attention. She was simply building the tools she needed for her dream. Still, seeing so many strangers cheering her on left a strange warmth in her chest.
And then—her finger froze mid-scroll.
A username stood out from the flood of ordinary accounts. Verified. With a little blue check.
NASA Official (Dr. Rowan Halberg):
"Outstanding work, Reina. Your design shows promise far beyond academic curiosity. Keep chasing this. The world needs vision like yours."
Reina stared. For a long moment, she didn't even blink. Her reflection on the tablet screen looked almost dumbfounded, a rare expression for someone who usually carried herself with cool detachment.
"…NASA?" she whispered under her breath.
The halo above her hummed, as if mocking her disbelief.
She scrolled back up just to make sure. No, it wasn't fake. The account was real. The comment already had over twenty thousand likes and a cascade of replies. Some people were joking—"NASA trying to recruit her already," "She's gonna run NASA by the time she's 20"—but Reina knew better. This wasn't casual. This was recognition.
For a second, her chest tightened.
NASA. An institution she'd admired quietly, distantly. One of those unreachable giants across the ocean, far removed from her little lab in Hokkaido. And yet here they were—watching her. A man named Dr. Rowan Halberg, someone she'd never met, had seen her work. Had acknowledged it.
Her mind raced.
This could mean opportunity. This could mean surveillance. This could mean danger. No—calm down. It's just a comment. Just a comment.
But she couldn't stop reading it over and over. "The world needs vision like yours."
The door creaked.
"Reina?" Himari peeked in, holding a small bento box. "You skipped lunch again, didn't you?"
Reina quickly locked the tablet screen, as if she'd been caught looking at something embarrassing. "...I was busy."
Himari walked in anyway, setting the bento down on Reina's table cluttered with notes and wires. She glanced at the halo, then at Reina's flustered expression. "You were reading the comments again, weren't you? I told you not to overdo it. People online say all sorts of things."
Reina hesitated, then slowly unlocked the screen and turned it toward her friend. "This one… is different."
Himari leaned closer. Her eyes widened. "…NASA??"
Reina nodded, her voice low. "Dr. Rowan Halberg. I checked. It's real."
Himari covered her mouth, gasping like a kid who'd just learned her classmate secretly had superpowers. "That's… Reina, that's NASA! They're watching you!"
Reina leaned back, crossing her arms. Her tone was calm, but her heart was racing. "That's the problem. They're watching."
For a moment, silence filled the room, broken only by the faint hum of the halo.
Then Himari smiled faintly. "But… doesn't it feel good? To know people out there believe in you? That even someone across the ocean can see how amazing you are?"
Reina blinked at her. She hadn't thought of it that way. To her, recognition was a double-edged sword. Yet hearing Himari say it made the edges feel softer.
She sighed, finally reaching for the bento. "…Maybe."
As she quietly ate, she turned the words over in her mind. The world needs vision like yours.
She didn't reply to the comment. Not yet. But as the sun dipped lower outside her window, a quiet determination set in.
If the world was watching… she would make sure there was something worth watching.
Rowan sat in his office at NASA headquarters, half-drunk cup of black coffee at his side, eyes fixed on his laptop screen. The faint hum of the air conditioner filled the silence, but he barely noticed. His attention was glued to one thing: the comment section under that video.
The video that had blown up across the internet. The video of a teenage girl from Hokkaido wearing a glowing halo on her head like some kind of divine prop, casually explaining its functions as if she were teaching a school science project. Except… her "project" looked like the blueprint of humanity's next leap into the stars.
Dr. Rowan Halberg had left a comment. He remembered typing it with careful precision, word by word:
"This is one of the most promising innovations I've seen in years. If you ever consider collaboration, the scientific world would welcome your mind with open arms."
Short, professional, but meaningful. The kind of comment that carried the weight of someone who didn't just watch videos for fun. He expected it to get buried under millions of fan messages, but to his surprise—
Pinned.Hearted.
Rowan chuckled softly to himself when he first noticed. "So, you did see it, huh…"
For the past few days, he checked back constantly, waiting for a reply. Surely, she'd say something back. Even just a simple 'Thank you.' But nothing came.
Nothing, except that tiny heart-shaped like and the little push of a pin that froze his comment at the top, staring back at him like a silent acknowledgment.
It wasn't silence, not exactly. It was more like… she had spoken, but in a language beyond words.
Rowan leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temple with a tired smile. "You're a strange one, Miss Reina. Not afraid to show the world something this big, but too shy to type a single word back to me?"
He opened his inbox. Empty. No emails from her. No hidden messages. Just silence. And yet, he couldn't bring himself to be frustrated. Instead, he found it… endearing. A reminder that behind all the genius and that ethereal halo, she was still just a girl—quiet, reserved, and maybe a little overwhelmed.
His colleagues were already buzzing about her invention in the halls. Some thought it was a hoax. Others thought she was some kind of prodigy with government backing. Rowan knew better. He saw the raw trial and error, the smashed mannequin, the unstable prototypes, the unpolished honesty of her footage. That wasn't staged. That was real.
And it made him want to meet her even more.
He refreshed the page one last time. Still no reply. Only that little red heart, mocking him, comforting him, confusing him all at once.
Rowan sighed, closing the laptop. "Alright. I'll wait, Reina. But don't keep me waiting too long. The stars won't."