Morning in Lumina Vale had a rhythm of its own.
Soft chiming bells from the far temple echoed lightly through the town as sunlight crawled over the stone walls and drifted between the gently swaying banners. Birds darted through clear skies. Shopkeepers lifted their stalls open with sleepy yawns, and the smell of warm bread and sweet rice filled the winding streets.
At the edge of town, where cobbled paths faded into worn trails, a small hill stood like a quiet guardian of the valley. The grass grew longer there, and the wind always seemed to whisper. That's where Hsyko stood.
He had climbed the hill after breakfast, dragging a tattered red cape behind him a cape made from an old curtain that used to hang in the hallway. It flapped behind him now as he stood at the very top, arms crossed, pretending to survey a vast kingdom.
"Wind's good today," he whispered, his voice serious like an old general.
He turned, squinting up at the sky, then shouted:
"Prepare the airships! The sky monsters return at dusk!"
There was no one around, but that didn't matter.
To Hsyko, every day was a grand adventure. The world was alive, breathing with stories no one else seemed to notice. The trees whispered secrets. The clouds held castles. The stones remembered things.
"I am Captain Hsyko of the Wind Fleet," he proclaimed, pointing a stick sword toward the sky. "Let it be known that today we take back the skies!"
By noon, Hsyko was back in town, weaving between legs at the market square.
"Hey, hey! Watch it, squirt!"
"Sorry! I'm just really fast today!"
He ran up to a fruit cart, eyes wide at the glowing orange bundles of sourleaf fruit. He leaned over dramatically.
"These are the rare Ember Pearls from the Temple of Light, right?"
The vendor blinked. "Uh… these? These are just sourleaf. Grew 'em this morning."
"Oh, good! They disguise themselves. I need three! But I don't have money, so… I'll give you this rock I found. It's shiny. And round. And probably magic."
The vendor stared.
"Please?"
There was a pause… then a sigh… then laughter.
"Just take two, kid. Keep your magic rock."
"Yes! Victory!"
He ran off, munching happily, waving his stick sword like a banner.
He passed by the bakery, where the owner was sweeping crumbs into the street.
"Hsyko! You still owe me a story for yesterday."
"Okay! Once upon a time, a loaf of bread became a ninja. But it was too soft. The end!"
"...That's your story?"
"It's a sad one."
That afternoon, the schoolyard was filled with children. Lessons had ended, and now they exploded across the field like fireworks. Chalk drawings stretched across stone walls, and shoes clattered over dirt.
Hsyko wasn't the best at anything.
He couldn't write his name neatly. He couldn't run the farthest. He couldn't throw the ball as far as Jairou or draw stars like Beatrice. But he smiled the widest. He made the best noises when pretending to be a robot. And he always shared his food.
"You wanna trade half a sourleaf for your weird triangle snack?" he asked Jairou.
"Huh? My what? You mean the tempu chip?"
"Yeah! It's crunchy! Like it wants to bite me back!"
Jairou grinned. "Deal."
From a corner, Beatrice watched quietly, sketching in a small notebook. Her drawings were always neat, filled with symbols Hsyko didn't understand.
"What are you writing?" he asked.
"Nothing," she said, flipping the page. "Just patterns."
"Looks like a secret spell. Is it to make bugs do your homework? That's what I'd do. But only math bugs. Not the reading ones. Reading bugs are weird."
Beatrice blinked, then smiled faintly. "Something like that."
They sat in the shade for a while.
Hsyko leaned back and pointed at the clouds.
"That one looks like a breadfish. That one looks like my uncle if he had wings. And that one... that one's a battle cow."
Beatrice tilted her head. "A battle cow?"
"Yeah. It stomps bad guys. With honor."
He stood, arms wide again, wobbling on the balance beam like it was a cliff edge.
"Whoa! I'm Captain Breadfish, flying through the galaxy!"
Beatrice watched him, the corners of her mouth lifting. "You're weird."
"The best people are!"
The sun began to dip behind the western hills.
Children were called home, one by one. Lanterns lit slowly across the town. Hsyko ran toward the bookstore, where he knew Uncle Varo would be standing out front, half-asleep and muttering to himself.
"Uncle! I'm back from the cloud patrol!"
"Mmm? Excellent, excellent," Varo said without opening his eyes. "Did the sky whisper any riddles today?"
"Just one. Something about jam. Or maybe sand. Hard to tell."
Varo opened one eye. "Ah, yes. The age-old mystery. Come inside. Your mother said you can pick one story."
The bookstore smelled like ink and dust and something that might've been cinnamon. The shelves twisted around like a maze, filled with books no one had opened in years.
"Only one story? But they all look like they're glowing today!" Hsyko said.
"Then choose the dimmest one. Maybe it needs your light."
He wandered the aisles, fingers brushing spines, whispering to each book:
"Nope… not you… too spooky… too big… ooh!"
He pulled a small book from the bottom shelf. It had no title, no picture. Just a deep green cover and gold trim.
"This one," he whispered.
That night, after dinner, he sat on the roof again.
The sky above was a velvet sea, stars pulsing softly like quiet drums. The book lay open in his lap.
He couldn't read most of it, but the first page made him pause.
In small writing, barely legible, it said:
"Even the smallest thread can guide the stars."
He didn't understand what it meant.
He just thought it sounded pretty.
He looked up again, watching a single star blink more brightly than the others. His fingers brushed the page.
Then he yawned, laid back, and stared at the sky.
"Good night, moon. Don't fall. I'll catch you if you do."
And with that, Hsyko drifted off to sleep.
Dreaming of flying cows, cloud patrols, and a world where he was just a kid exactly how he wanted it to be.