It's late one evening, a few days before the cultural festival. The moonlight filters through Aoi's bedroom window, casting a soft glow over her desk, which is littered with papers and notebooks filled with half-written stories. Aoi sits in her chair, typing away on her laptop, lost in the world she's creating.
She takes a deep breath, leaning back to stretch her arms. Her screen shows the title of her latest chapter on an online platform—an anonymous account where she's been posting her work for the past two years. Though her readers know her only by her pen name, 'Starlight' Aoi has built a following of people who eagerly wait for each new story.
Aoi thinking, "I wonder what they'd say if they knew it was just me, Aoi, the girl who never seems to take anything seriously."
She smiles to herself, but there's a bittersweet edge to her thoughts. Writing has always been her passion, the one place where she can express the feelings she hides behind her usual energetic and carefree attitude.
The faint sound of a notification pings from her laptop, and Aoi clicks it open. It's a message from one of her regular readers, praising the latest chapter of her ongoing story.
Reader Message : "Your stories always make me feel so much. How do you create such real characters?"
Aoi's fingers hover over the keyboard as she prepares to respond, but her thoughts drift to her father. He had been the one who first encouraged her to write, always telling her that words had the power to reach people in ways nothing else could. Her heart aches as she remembers him, but she also feels a deep sense of pride.
Aoi ,thinking, "Dad... I wish you could see this."
Aoi's father, a passionate novelist and the owner of one of the famous bakery in the town, had been her biggest inspiration. When she was little, she'd sit on his lap as he worked on his manuscripts, her wide eyes watching the words appear on the page. He always made time for her, even in the midst of deadlines, sharing stories and teaching her the importance of creativity.
Aoi's Dad (smiling): "Writing is about letting your heart speak, Aoi. Don't worry about what anyone else thinks. Just write what feels true to you."
Aoi had always admired how her father poured his soul into his writing, creating entire worlds from his imagination. But two years ago, he passed away after a sudden illness, leaving Aoi devastated. She hadn't touched a pen or opened a word document for months after that, unable to face the blank page without him.
It wasn't until she stumbled upon his old journal one evening that she found the strength to write again. His last entry had been addressed to her:
Aoi's Dad (journal entry): "Keep writing, my little storyteller. No matter what happens, your stories will always carry a part of me with them."
That night, Aoi created the account Starlight, posting her first short story under the pen name in honor of her father's nickname for her—'The little star who would shine in her own way.'
Aoi closes her laptop, looking over at the script for the school play sitting on her desk. No one knows she wrote it—her friends think it was chosen by the teachers, but in reality, Aoi had submitted it anonymously, hoping to share a piece of herself without the pressure of anyone knowing it was hers.
The play, titled "The Last Sunset," is about loss and finding hope in unexpected places. It's a reflection of the grief Aoi has carried since her father's passing, and in many ways, it's her way of saying goodbye to him.
Aoi (thinking): "I'm not ready to tell them yet... but maybe after the festival."
Her phone buzzes with a message from Haruto.
Haruto's Message: "Hey, just checking in. You ready for the play? It's gonna be great."
Aoi smiles. Haruto, always so serious and focused, had agreed to play the lead role, even though he wasn't much of an actor. He didn't know that Aoi had written the script specifically with him and the rest of their group in mind. Each character in the play was inspired by her friends, and she knew they'd bring it to life in ways she couldn't even imagine.
Aoi (replying): "Yeah, I'm ready. Thanks, Haruto."
As she hits send, her heart skips a beat. The festival is only days away, and soon, her play will be on stage for everyone to see. Even though she won't reveal her identity as the writer just yet, she hopes the story will reach the hearts of those who watch it, just as her father's stories had always touched hers.
On the second day of the festival...
"Hey guys, there's something I need to tell you." said Aoi in a very serious tone.
The group turns to her, curious but concerned.
Yuki speaks, softly, "What is it, Aoi?"
Aoi takes a deep breath, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her shirt.
"I'm the one who wrote the play."
Everyone was like, "Huh"
And then Aoi explained everything to the group.
Haruto, in shock, asks, "Wait, you wrote it?"
"Whaaaaaa..... Aoi, you are an anonymous author who writes book on an online platform." shouted Misaki. "Well didn't know."
"How would you know, she just told us now." speaks Kaito, to break the tension. But he was sadly ignored.
Further, Aoi reveals something important, "It's okay. I just... I thought it was time I shared it with you guys. My dad was a writer too, and I guess this is my way of keeping him with me."
Kaito, ever the joker, finally breaks the tension in the air with his joke, "So, what you're saying is... We have been rehearsing your genius work this whole time?"
The group laughs, the lightheartedness bringing Aoi a sense of relief. Haruto looks at her, admiration in his eyes.
That night, as Aoi walks home, she feels lighter than she has in a long time. She glances up at the night sky, the stars twinkling down at her, and she imagines her father somewhere out there, watching over her.
Aoi, in her mind, "I hope you'll be proud, Dad. I'm doing this for you."
The festival looms ahead, but Aoi knows that, no matter how the play turns out, she's already won in her own way. She's found the courage to share her story, and in doing so, she's honoring the memory of her father—the one who taught her that words could change the world.
As she steps inside her house, she catches sight of her father's old writing desk, still sitting in the corner of the living room. She walks over to it, placing a hand on the worn wood, and smiles.
Aoi, softly, "Thanks, Dad. For everything."
With renewed determination, Aoi heads to bed, ready to face the festival, and the future, with her heart wide open.
To be continued....