The bell rang, its bright chime echoing through the long corridors of Sakura High. Like a signal loosed from the heavens, it unleashed a tide of students into the courtyard. Shoes clattered against polished floors, laughter burst from clusters of friends, and chatter rose into a thousand tiny rivers of sound. The air itself seemed lighter; after all, it was Friday, and the promise of the weekend shimmered in everyone's mood.
Among the flow of uniforms and eager voices, one particular group carried with them a different sort of excitement. It had been just a week since the Cosmic S.T.A.R. Club had officially been recognized by the school. The paperwork was stamped, the advisor reluctantly assigned, and their little dream had finally found a foothold in reality. That glow of triumph hadn't dimmed yet. If anything, it seemed to pulse brighter with each day, like a newly born star still finding its brilliance.
Instead of heading to their clubroom, the group had decided today would be different. No discussions about telescopes, no endless debates about constellations, no frantic scribbles of calculations on the chalkboard. Today, they would celebrate their small victory with something simple, something grounding.
A picnic.
The school's back garden, tucked behind a row of classrooms and shaded by tall cherry blossom trees, felt like a hidden treasure. Though spring was waning, the blossoms still clung stubbornly to the branches, soft pink petals trembling in the mild breeze. Every so often, a cluster of petals would break free, drifting lazily to the earth like fragments of a dream. The scent was faint—sweet, delicate, and unmistakably fleeting, as though time itself was reminding them that nothing this beautiful lasted forever.
The club members spread out a blanket beneath one of the grander trees. The grass was cool and soft, damp from a recent shower that had passed the night before. Sunlight filtered through the canopy, dappling the ground with golden patches.
"Behold!" Luna declared dramatically as she opened a large lacquered box, revealing neatly arranged rows of sushi rolls, pastries that glistened with sugar, and bottles of sparkling fruit water that caught the sun like jewels. "Your goddess of culinary genius has arrived!"
Souta, who had been casually helping Tadao wrestle with the corners of the picnic blanket, raised an eyebrow and smirked. "Culinary genius? More like a feudal lord trying to buy our loyalty." He plucked a pastry from the box with a grin. "Spoiling us like royalty—are we your subjects now?"
Luna tossed her long hair, the strands catching the light like strands of silk. "You wound me, Souta. I don't try to buy loyalty. I simply inspire devotion." She lifted her chin regally. "Besides, geniuses like me need the proper fuel, and I will not lower my standards just because the rest of you are used to instant noodles and cafeteria bread."
That earned a round of laughter. Even Tadao, who usually preferred action over banter, couldn't help but grin as he grabbed two sushi rolls at once.
"Careful," Haruto warned with an amused sigh, "last time you ate like that, you nearly choked."
"Choked?" Tadao scoffed, already stuffing one roll into his mouth. "Please. That was a training exercise. My stomach is a battlefield, and I am its undefeated champion!"
Beru, who had settled beside Haruto, tried to smother her laugh but failed, covering her mouth with her hand. She reached for her own box, neatly packed and far more modest than Luna's, but her eyes flicked toward Haruto every so often, subtle as a heartbeat. Her chopsticks moved carefully, as though each bite needed her full concentration, but her mind clearly lingered elsewhere.
Haruto, however, was more preoccupied with keeping Tadao from escalating into another ridiculous contest. "No," he said firmly as soon as he saw the gleam in Tadao's eyes. "Don't even think about turning this into a food challenge. We are not spending the afternoon measuring who can eat the most sushi without passing out."
"Aw, c'mon!" Tadao protested, already piling sushi onto his plate. "Where's your spirit of adventure?"
"My spirit of adventure," Haruto replied dryly, "prefers not to end in the nurse's office."
Souta chuckled at the exchange, sketching lazily in his notebook while balancing a half-eaten pastry on his knee. His pencil scratched softly across the paper, capturing the shapes of the petals drifting overhead. "If he does choke again," Souta said without looking up, "at least it'll make a good scene for my comic. 'The Glutton Who Died at a Picnic.' Tragic, yet strangely heroic."
Luna gasped. "Don't waste ink on that disaster. If you're going to draw anyone, draw me! Preferably with a crown."
"And lightning bolts," Tadao added, grinning. "Make her look like a wrathful goddess who punishes anyone who refuses her cooking."
The banter carried on, light and easy, weaving laughter into the air until the garden itself seemed to hum with warmth. The food disappeared quickly, though not without more teasing. Luna smirked every time someone praised her cooking, basking in the compliments like sunlight. Beru grew quieter as the meal went on, but every so often, when Haruto smiled at something, her own lips curved in unconscious imitation.
When the last of the food was gone and the sparkling fruit water bottles lay empty, the group stretched out across the grass, their stomachs full and their spirits buoyant.
The sky stretched endlessly above them, a pure and unbroken blue that seemed to sing of freedom. Clouds drifted lazily, their shapes shifting with the whims of the wind.
"Look," Haruto said, pointing upward, his tone half-serious, half-amused. "That one looks like a dragon."
Tadao squinted, his arms folded behind his head. "Dragon? No way. That's clearly a rice ball."
Souta leaned over, sketchbook in hand. "Interesting. I see a turtle carrying a mountain." He began sketching the vague outline of the cloud with quick, confident strokes. "Though now that you mention it, maybe it is a rice ball."
Beru tilted her head, her voice soft. "I think it looks like a bird. Flying away."
Luna scoffed. "You're all wrong. Clouds are for training. If you can't see the hidden constellations in their shapes, how will you ever master astronomy?" She had already pulled out a star chart from her bag and was comparing the drifting clouds against the inked patterns of distant galaxies.
Tadao rolled his eyes dramatically. "Luna, not everything has to be about stars."
"Everything," she corrected with a wag of her finger, "is about stars. The universe leaves hints everywhere, if only you have the eyes to see."
Her confidence was so unshakable that for a moment, the others simply stared at her in silence before dissolving into laughter once again.
As the afternoon wore on, the sun grew warmer, its golden rays draping the garden in a languid glow. The sounds of distant classes faded, replaced by the gentle rustle of leaves and the occasional flutter of a passing bird. Even the usual chaos of the schoolyard seemed muted here, as though the back garden existed in its own pocket of tranquility.
Gradually, the group's voices quieted. Souta's pencil slowed, his sketches becoming lazier. Tadao finally stopped plotting his next food conquest and simply closed his eyes, letting the breeze wash over him. Luna lay on her stomach, chin propped on her hands, star chart spread out before her though she was no longer studying it with the same intensity.
Haruto found himself gazing at the vast expanse above, his hands folded behind his head. The blue sky stretched so endlessly it almost felt unreal, like one could fall upward into it and never stop. He let his mind wander, his breaths syncing with the rhythm of the world around him.
And then—
He saw it.
For the briefest of moments, something flickered across the sky. Not a cloud, not the flight of a bird. It was subtler than that—like a hairline fracture spreading across glass, light catching on invisible edges. A shimmer, faint but undeniable, as if the heavens themselves were fragile and about to crack open.
Haruto blinked, and it was gone. The sky was whole again, unblemished and perfect, as though nothing had ever been there.
A trick of the light, he told himself. Maybe the sun caught his eyes at the wrong angle. Maybe he was just tired. After all, he had been staying up later than usual, his thoughts restless with the excitement of the club's recognition and the responsibilities it carried.
Still, unease lingered in the pit of his stomach, though he pushed it down. There was no sense in worrying over shadows when the present moment was so warm, so alive.
Beru's soft humming drew him back. She was sitting upright now, knees tucked close, her voice weaving a gentle melody that seemed older than time. It carried no words, just a tune that rose and fell like waves, filling the garden with a strange, calming sweetness.
Tadao cracked one eye open. "Hey… that's actually nice."
Beru flushed faintly but didn't stop, her gaze drifting skyward. Souta paused his sketching, letting the sound guide his pencil into softer lines. Even Luna quieted, though she pretended to remain absorbed in her star chart.
The moment wrapped around them like a blanket, fragile and comforting.
Haruto lay back once more, staring at the sky, his hands folded behind his head. The world felt so peaceful, so deceptively eternal, that for an instant he dared to believe it might last forever.
And yet, somewhere deep inside, he knew—this was only the calm before the storm.
For now, it was enough.
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To be continued...