Beneath the Same Constellation
A Light Novel
Prologue–
The Sky Remembers,
The sky above Tokyo had changed.
Not in the way people used to talk about—no sudden storms or celestial omens—but in the quiet, subtle way light itself had shifted. The atmosphere shimmered faintly with threads of artificial constellations projected by orbiting satellites, reminders of humanity's reach into the stars. Neon ads stretched up into the sky competing with the glow of true starlight. And yet, beneath all the engineered brilliance, the same constellations still lingered—the timeless ones, etched into the universe long before humans learned to dream of flight.
Aiko Hoshizawa lay on her back in the soft grass of a public park, her school bag tossed aside. Cherry blossom petals drifted down over her, some sticking to her hair. She ignored the flickering holographic-screens around the plaza, the ever-present noise of traffic, the towering skyscrapers that split the sky.
Her gaze was fixed higher.Passing the light pollution of the City and satellite and even passing the artificial auroras that Tokyo now paid to shine across its skyline.
There—between Orion and Cassiopeia—one faint star twinkling stubbornly, as though it refused to be swallowed by the noise of earth's civilization.
Aiko whispered to it.
"Someday✨✨ I want to reach beyond those stars to meet the one who can reach the depth of my heart ❤️
She did not know why she said it. Only that it felt right. As though the universe itself were listening.
Far away, light-years condensed into the curve of Saturn's rings, another boy pressed his hand to the glass of a starship's viewing deck. His name was Ren Arcelis. And though he could not hear Aiko's words, though he had never even touched Earth's soil, he too whispered to the void.
"Someday… I'll find you."
Two voices, cast into the silence of space.
Two souls, unaware that they already shared the same sky.
Chapter 1
Petals on the Sky Bridge
The morning began with bells.
Tokyo's new central district echoed with the soft chime of bell. Glass towers shimmered like water, their surfaces doubling as screens that streamed news and gossip into the air.
Above it all stretched the Sky Bridge—a massive transparent structure that spanned the heart of the city, connecting building to building like strands of a spider's web.
The bridge was alive. With every step, holographic ripples followed one's feet, glowing blue like water disturbed by raindrops. It was one of the city's most famous features, designed both as a marvel of engineering and as a symbol: "Walk the bridge, walk the future."
Aiko's bare feet touching the glass.
She likes to slip off her shoes when no one was watching, so she could feel the subtle hum of energy pulsing beneath. The light rippled outward with each step, as if the bridge itself recognized her.
Cherry blossoms had stopped blooming naturally in Tokyo since—the pollution and weather shifts had made them rare—but the city compensated. Drones releasing petals into the air every morning, scattering them across the skyline like confetti. The petals drifted across the Sky Bridge now, some brushing against Aiko's cheek before being carried into the neon wind.
She tightened her grip on the strap of her school bag and lifted her face toward the sky.
The stars were invisible, drowned by the daylight, but Aiko could imagine them. She always imagined them. And in the privacy of her thoughts, she repeated the same dream:
"Someday✨✨ I want to reach beyond those stars to meet the one who can reach the depth of my heart.
Her classmates didn't understand, To them, space was an abstraction—a faraway colony where rich families sent their children to study, a political mess broadcast on the news, a place as distant as myths. But to Aiko, space was alive. The stars were alive.
"Talking to yourself again, Aiko?"
The voice pulled her back to Earth. She turned to see Haruto, her childhood friend, balancing precariously on the railing of the bridge. He wore his uniform jacket sloppily, as always, and his dark hair fell into his eyes.
"You'll fall," Aiko warned.
"Not if I catch the wind," Haruto grinned, leaping down beside her. The bridge rippled at the impact of his shoes. "So, what's it today? Secret conversations with Orion? Whispering your love to a black hole?"
She puffed her cheeks. "It's not like that."
"It's always like that," Haruto teased, walking backward to face her as they moved. "You look up more than you look forward. One day you'll walk right into a pillar."
Aiko tried not to smile, but the corner of her mouth betrayed her. Haruto always managed to drag her back to reality. Yet even as she laughed softly at his antics, her heart tugged upward again—toward the sky no one else seemed to notice.
By the time they reached the school gates, the morning rush had thickened. Students streamed into Tokyo Metropolitan No. 7 Academy, their uniforms crisp, their voices buzzing with talk of exams, shows, and the latest colony tech updates. The building itself rose like a crystal tower, its walls both transparent and reflective, blurring the city beyond.
Inside, the familiar hum of holograms and screens filling the air. Aiko slid into her seat near the window, her shoes finally back on, though she tugged at them restlessly as though they were shackles.
"Hey," Haruto whispered from the desk beside her, tilting his chair back dangerously far. "Bet you're already drawing galaxies again."
She didn't answer. Instead, she pulled out her sketchbook, balancing it discreetly on her lap. Her pencil scratched softly, tracing the faint outline of Saturn's rings—delicate arcs circling a giant she had never seen except in books and telescopes.
Around her, the classroom buzzed with shallow conversations.
"Did you catch the new idol-stream last night?"
"The colony leagues are opening Earth trials—imagine playing against someone born in space!"
"I heard the lunar branch is developing new uniforms. Way cooler than ours."
Aiko tuned it out. Their voices were like static, distant and hollow. To them, space was a backdrop for entertainment or politics. To her, it was alive—calling, whispering.
"Open your tablets," the teacher's voice crackled through the holographic podium. "Today's lesson: orbital mechanics in inter-colony trade."
That single phrase made Aiko's head snap up. For once, she was listening. Graphs and maps projected into the air, tracing routes between Earth and the scattered colonies: lunar domes, Mars settlements, orbiting habitats. She leaned forward, heart quickening, her pencil pausing mid-sketch.
They're real… she thought. All those places. Not just rumors. Not just unreachable dreams.
Lunch brought a reprieve. Aiko slipped away from the cafeteria noise and climbed the stairs to the roof.
From here, Tokyo unfurled in every direction: towers layered with gardens, drones buzzing like bees between rooftops, skyways gleaming under the sun. The air shimmered faintly with smog dispersal systems, but beyond all that, the horizon stretched clean and wide.
She sat against the fence and opened her sketchbook again. This time, instead of planets, her hand moved on its own—sketching the outline of a boy she had never seen.
White hair. Eyes she could not quite imagine. A hand outstretched, palm pressed against something invisible, as though he were reaching for her through a barrier.
Her chest tightened. "Who are you?" she whispered, the sound stolen by the wind.
For a moment, she swore she felt warmth against her palm, as though someone had pressed back.
The day ended the way it began—with the Sky Bridge glowing beneath the setting sun. Students scattered toward trains and air-trams, chatter trailing behind them. Aiko lingered, shoes once again dangling from her hand, her bare feet leaving ripples of light across the glass.
Haruto walked beside her, his hands in his pockets. "You always take the long way home," he said.
"I like the quiet," Aiko replied.
"It's not quiet," he chuckled, gesturing at the drones overhead, the endless hum of the city below.
She shook her head. "Not here. Up there." She tipped her chin toward the sky.
The first star blinked awake in the violet dusk. Aiko slowed, staring. Her hand pressed against the glass railing as her heart swelled with a longing she couldn't name.
"Somewhere," she whispered, "beneath the same constellation… someone must be looking back."
And far away, on Astraea Colony drifting at the edge of Saturn's rings, Ren Arcelis pressed his hand against the viewing deck glass. His breath fogged the window, his eyes locked on the faint blue glow of Earth in the distance.
"Earth," he murmured. "So close. And yet… so far."
✨ End of Chapter 1 –
Petals on the Sky bridge