The lights dimmed gradually around us in the planetarium, plunging the domed room into darkness. Beside me, I felt Ruby tense slightly, her small hand tightening around mine. I gave her fingers a gentle squeeze.
"It's okay," I whispered. "The stars are coming."
And they did – pinpricks of light blooming across the ceiling in clusters and constellations, transforming the darkness into something magnificent. The recorded narrator's deep voice rumbled through the speakers, talking about light years and celestial bodies, but I found myself watching the twins more than the display.
Ruby's face tilted upward, her mouth forming a perfect 'o' of wonder, the projected stars reflecting in her wide eyes. Aqua leaned forward in his seat, his posture attentive, absorbing every word of the narration with unusual focus for a child his age.
And Ai... I stole a glance at her in the starlight. She'd removed her sunglasses in the darkness, her gradient eyes unguarded. The false constellations painted patterns across her skin, and something twisted in my chest – something that felt dangerously close to longing.
"Look!" Ruby pointed upward as a comet streaked across the dome. "A shooting star!"
"Make a wish," I told her.
She squeezed her eyes shut, her face scrunched in concentration, then opened them with a satisfied nod.
"What did you wish for?" Aqua asked.
"Can't tell or it won't come true," Ruby replied.
The narrator's voice filled the space again, describing the rotation of the Earth and how it affects our view of the night sky. I found it difficult to focus on the educational content with Ruby periodically squirming beside me, her attention span wavering despite her initial enthusiasm.
"Why are some stars bigger?" she whispered loudly.
"Some are closer to us," I explained softly, "and others are actually bigger stars. Like people – some are tall, some are short."
"Are you a big star?" She giggled at her own joke.
"Hardly. I'm just starting out."
"But you're in PRISM," she insisted. "Ai says you're very good."
My eyes darted to Ai, who studiously kept her gaze on the ceiling, though I caught the hint of a smile on her lips.
"Does she now?" I murmured.
"Shh," Aqua hushed us from Ai's other side. "They're explaining red giants."
The presentation shifted to show the life cycle of stars, with a massive red star expanding across the dome. Ruby pressed herself against my arm.
"Is it going to explode?" she asked, voice tinged with worry.
"Eventually," Ai answered, "but not for billions of years." She reached across to stroke Ruby's hair reassuringly.
"Stars live for a very long time," I added, "but they don't last forever. Nothing does."
"What happens when they die?" Ruby's question came quiet and serious.
I hesitated, unsure how to explain stellar death to a toddler without frightening her. Ai came to my rescue.
"They transform," she said. "Big stars become something new – their light spreads out into the universe and becomes part of other stars and planets."
"Like recycling," Aqua added without looking away from the display.
"Exactly," I agreed, impressed by his understanding. "Nothing is ever truly gone. It just changes form."
Ruby considered this, her brow furrowed beneath her bangs. "When people die, do they become stars?"
The question hung in the air between us.
"Some people think so," I finally said. "That's why we say people we've lost are watching over us from the stars."
Ai's hand moved in the darkness, finding mine on the armrest between our seats. Her fingers slid between mine, warm and certain. I glanced at her, surprised, but she kept her eyes on the ceiling, her profile serene in the starlight. Still, her thumb brushed against the back of my hand – deliberate, reassuring.
I curled my fingers around hers, my heart hammering beneath my ribs.
"I think I'd like to be a star," Ruby decided, oblivious to the current passing between Ai and me. "A big sparkly one that helps people not be scared of the dark."
"You already are," I told her, and meant it.
The program continued, zooming out to show our galaxy, then the local cluster, then millions of galaxies dotting the universe like scattered diamonds. The scale of it was humbling, a reminder of how insignificant we all were in the grand scheme – and yet, paradoxically, how precious these small moments became against that vastness.
Aqua raised his hand during the Q&A portion that followed. When selected, he stood, small but confident.
"Is it true that the light we see from some stars is from stars that don't exist anymore?"
The presenter blinked, clearly surprised by such an advanced question from such a young child.
"That's absolutely correct," she responded. "Many stars we see in our night sky are so far away that their light takes millions or even billions of years to reach us. By the time we see them, some have indeed already died."
Aqua nodded, satisfied, and sat back down. Ai gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze, pride evident in her gesture.
"He's incredibly bright," I whispered to her.
"They both are," she whispered back, her breath warm against my ear. "In different ways."
Ruby had begun to droop against my arm, the excitement of the day catching up with her. I adjusted slightly so she could lean more comfortably, and she immediately settled against me, her plush star clutched to her chest.
"Is she asleep?" Ai asked softly.
I glanced down. "Almost."
Ruby blinked drowsily up at me. "Not sleeping," she protested, though her eyelids were heavy.
"Of course not," I agreed seriously. "Just resting your eyes between stars."
She nodded, apparently satisfied with this explanation, and let her eyes close fully. Within minutes, her breathing deepened and evened out.
"She trusts you," Ai murmured, her voice barely audible over the presenter's closing remarks.
"Children are good judges of character," I replied, though the weight of Ruby's trust settled on me like a responsibility I wasn't sure I deserved.
Our hands remained linked throughout the remainder of the show. When the lights gradually came back on, we separated naturally, the moment passing like a shared secret.
Ruby stirred as people began to rise around us. "Did I miss the end?" she asked sleepily.
"Just the boring part," I assured her. "Credits and acknowledgments."
She nodded, satisfied, and reached up to be carried. Without thinking, I lifted her into my arms, settling her against my hip. She immediately rested her head on my shoulder, still drowsy.
Ai watched us with an unreadable expression. For a moment, I feared I'd overstepped, but then she smiled – a small, private smile that made my chest tighten.
"Ready to head out?" she asked, taking Aqua's hand.
We made our way through the dispersing crowd, Ruby's weight solid and warm against me. I'd never carried a child for this long before, and found myself marveling at the strange feeling of it – the complete trust, the vulnerability, the fierce protectiveness it awakened in me.
Is this what being a father feels like?
I'd never given much thought to having children. In my previous life, I'd died too young for such considerations. But carrying Ruby, watching Aqua's serious little face as he studied the educational displays we passed, seeing how Ai balanced attentiveness with gentle guidance – it opened something in me I hadn't known existed.
These weren't even my children. They were Ichigo and Miyako's, whom Ai was watching for the day. Yet some part of me ached at the domesticity of it all, at the easy rhythm we'd fallen into as a unit, at how right it felt.
"Penny for your thoughts?" Ai asked as we paused in the gift shop on our way out.
"I was just thinking..." I shifted Ruby slightly as she examined a display of glow-in-the-dark stars with renewed interest. "Ichigo and Miyako are lucky. These two are something special."
Ai's expression flickered – surprise, then something softer I couldn't name.
"They are," she agreed after a moment.
"Smart, too. Especially Aqua. Not many two-year-olds can grasp concepts like stellar death and light-years."
"He's always been like that." Ai watched as Aqua examined a book about black holes, his small fingers carefully turning the pages. "Like an old soul in a child's body."
I knew that feeling intimately – the dissonance between inner knowledge and external expectations. Perhaps that's why I felt such an unexpected connection to the serious little boy.
"And Ruby's emotional intelligence is off the charts," I continued. "The way she reads people, how attuned she is to others' feelings. That's rare at any age."
"You've been paying attention," Ai noted, her tone carefully neutral.
"Hard not to." I shrugged the shoulder Ruby wasn't leaning on. "They're fascinating kids."
Ruby roused herself enough to point at a small telescope on a display shelf. "Can I look through that?"
"Of course." I set her down carefully and helped her adjust the eyepiece. "What do you see?"
"The moon!" she exclaimed, though the telescope was pointed at a poster of the solar system on the far wall.
"Incredible," I said with appropriate awe. "You have excellent vision, Captain Ruby."
She beamed at me, then tugged on Ai's hand. "Ai, you look too!"
Ai obediently bent to the telescope, making exaggerated sounds of wonder that made Ruby giggle.
"Toshiro," Aqua approached, holding the book he'd been examining. "This says black holes might be portals to other universes. Is that true?"
"Some scientists think it might be possible," I told him, crouching to his level. "It's called a theory, which means it's an idea based on math and science, but we haven't proven it yet."
"So we don't know for sure?"
"That's right. There are lots of things about the universe we don't understand yet."
He nodded thoughtfully. "That's why we need scientists. To figure it out."
"Exactly. Is that something you'd like to be when you grow up? A scientist?"
"Maybe."
As we finally left the science center, Ruby insisted on one more piggyback ride. I complied, hoisting her onto my shoulders where she sat like a queen, occasionally directing me with gentle tugs on my hair.
"Left! Now right! Faster, space ship!"
I obliged, making appropriate engine noises that sent her into fits of giggles. Aqua walked slightly ahead, still absorbed in the pamphlets he'd collected throughout the day. The late afternoon sun caught his blonde hair, turning it to gold. The same sun touched Ruby's locks where she perched above me, creating a halo effect.
Blonde hair. Vibrant eyes.
They could be mine.
Not literally, of course. But in some parallel universe where I'd met Ai or someone else years ago, where we'd built a life together – children like these could have been ours.
"Everything okay?" Ai asked, noticing my pause.
I nodded, not trusting my voice immediately. Ruby patted the top of my head.
"Space ship needs refueling," she declared.
"You're right," I managed, finding my voice again. "This space ship runs on ice cream. Should we find some?"
Her delighted squeal was answer enough.
As we changed course toward an ice cream stand in the park across the street, I caught Ai watching me with that same unreadable expression from earlier. Something questioning in her eyes, something hopeful and fearful all at once.
I smiled at her, and after a moment, she smiled back. Something passed between us then, unspoken but understood.
Whatever this was, wherever it was leading – it felt like the beginning of something that had been written in the stars long before either of us looked up to read it.