Life in the hills of Northeast India rarely changed.
The mornings always began with mist drifting through the trees, and the sound of birds echoing across the valley.
Arin woke up before sunrise most days.
Not because he had to.
But because the early morning silence helped him think.
He sat near the small wooden window of his room, his sketchbook resting on his knees while the pale orange sunlight slowly filled the sky.
His pencil moved gently across the paper.
At first, his drawings were simple.
Small anime faces.
Rough lines.
Hair that looked messy and unfinished.
But Arin never stopped practicing.
Every day he drew something new.
Eyes.
Hands.
Expressions.
Sometimes he would erase the same line five or six times until it felt right.
His fingers were often covered in faint gray pencil marks.
He didn't mind.
Drawing was the one thing that made time disappear.
At school, things were mostly the same.
The volleyball court behind the school was dusty and uneven, surrounded by tall grass and a few old trees.
Arin still practiced Volleyball with the team after classes.
He wasn't the best player.
Most of the time he stood quietly in his position, waiting for the ball.
Sometimes he missed.
Sometimes he made a good pass.
But nobody expected much from him, and Arin never tried to prove anything.
For him, volleyball was just another small part of the day.
When practice ended, the other boys usually talked loudly about games, movies, or girls.
Arin usually sat alone under the same tree near the court.
And he drew.
His Instagram account was small.
Very small.
At first he only had 12 followers.
Most of them were strangers who liked anime drawings.
Sometimes a post would receive only two or three likes.
Sometimes none.
But Arin still posted.
Every night.
Sketch after sketch.
Some drawings showed anime girls looking at the sky.
Some showed quiet scenes—rain falling on windows, characters sitting alone on rooftops.
Without realizing it, many of the faces he drew slowly began to resemble someone.
Soft eyes.
Gentle smile.
Wind moving through long hair.
The girl from Japan.
Hina Aoyama.
Meanwhile, thousands of kilometers away in Japan, Hina's life moved at a completely different speed.
Her days were busy.
Her phone was always full of notifications.
New followers appeared every minute.
Brands sometimes sent messages asking her to promote things.
She filmed videos in small cafés, city streets, parks covered in cherry blossoms, and sometimes inside her cozy room filled with soft lights and plush toys.
Her videos were cheerful.
Bright music.
Smiling expressions.
Little jokes that made her audience laugh.
Every time she uploaded something, thousands of people liked it within minutes.
Comments filled her posts from people all over the world.
English.
Japanese.
Spanish.
So many messages that it was impossible to read them all.
Sometimes, late at night, Hina scrolled through a few of them before going to sleep.
But most comments passed by too quickly to notice.
Among those thousands of comments…
there was often a small one from a quiet boy in Northeast India.
"Your smile looks peaceful."
"This video feels like an anime scene."
"I drew something today because of this."
They were simple comments.
Short.
Respectful.
Easy to miss.
And Hina never noticed them.
Not yet.
Months slowly passed.
Arin's drawings improved little by little.
His lines became smoother.
His characters looked more alive.
People began to notice.
One day, a stranger commented on his drawing:
"Your art style is really calming."
Arin stared at the comment for a long moment.
It was the first time someone had said something like that.
His follower count slowly changed.
12 followers became 18.
Then 24.
Then 31.
The numbers were small compared to the millions following Hina.
But to Arin, each number felt like a small star appearing in the dark sky.
One evening, while rain tapped gently against his window, Arin finished another drawing.
This time it was different.
The girl in the sketch was standing under falling cherry blossoms.
Her eyes were soft.
Her smile was quiet.
Arin looked at the drawing carefully.
Then he opened Instagram and posted it.
Before closing the app, he visited Hina's newest video again.
She was walking through a bright street somewhere in Japan, laughing while the wind moved her hair.
Arin watched the video once.
Then again.
He typed another comment.
"Someday I want to draw this moment."
He pressed send.
And like every time before…
the comment disappeared into the endless ocean of messages.
But Arin didn't feel sad.
He simply placed his phone down, picked up his pencil again, and continued drawing quietly in the dim light of his room.
Because for him, loving someone from afar didn't feel painful.
It felt like drawing a distant star in the sky.
You might never reach it.
But it still gives your night a little light.