Starfall Sky and the Lonely Moon

In the dead of night, after the day’s clamor and the fleeting sense of fulfillment from her decisions had faded, Qi Yue’an lay in bed, her mind uncontrollably piecing together fragments of memories involving Lin Xiao.

The way he had stopped her on the bridge, his cold warning that they were to be enemies, and those eyes—once so easy for her to read, now inscrutable, as if they saw through everything…

The more she learned, the more her confusion grew, a cold, damp spiderweb ensnaring her heart.

A heavy weight seemed to press down on her chest, making it difficult to breathe.

Two years.

Why had he disappeared?

Why had he become a demon?

And why… why, when he clearly held a position of power and could help her in such a roundabout way, would he refuse to meet her face to face?

She never doubted any of Lin Xiao’s decisions, even instinctively making excuses for him.

Yet, the fear of being utterly pushed away, of being excluded by someone so important to her, sent a colder chill through her than any near-death experience ever had.

Her heart pounded like a machine.

The persistent dread and helplessness made sleep impossible.

She rose quietly, intending to get some air on the balcony, hoping the cool night breeze might blow away some of her turmoil.

Sliding open the balcony door, Qi Yue’an was surprised to find Xiyin already there.

She was clutching an unplugged guitar, leaning against the railing and gazing up at the starry sky.

Her long, light blue hair drifted in the gentle breeze, her silhouette appearing fragile and lonely in the moonlight.

She seemed to sense Qi Yue’an’s arrival but neither turned nor spoke, almost opening her mouth to tell her to go back to sleep before remembering her earlier state and falling silent once more.

Qi Yue’an quietly walked over and sat down beside her, her own gaze turning to the same brilliant, distant stars, though her eyes focused on the moon.

The chill of the night seeped into her skin, yet it strangely managed to soothe her restless heart.

She studied the other girl’s profile, trying to decipher the look on her face—a mix of reminiscence, loneliness, and sorrow…

After what felt like a long time, Qi Yue’an spoke softly, her voice exceptionally clear in the quiet night.

“Xi, you look so sad.”

Xiyin’s body stiffened almost imperceptibly.

She remained silent for a moment before slowly turning her head.

She saw Qi Yue’an’s silver eyes watching her quietly, not pressing, not rushing, just reflecting her image like a clear, spring-fed pool, waiting.

A crack formed in the defenses Xiyin had kept so tightly guarded.

Beneath the night sky, the girl whose eyes were always clouded with a heart-wrenching mix of confusion and pain now held nothing but pure concern.

It was only then that Xiyin realized that this girl, whom she had first met on the bridge and initially thought of as a pitiful, small animal, had, in less than a month, come to occupy an undeniable space in her otherwise empty life.

“I…”

Her voice trembled almost imperceptibly.

“Actually… before I became a magical girl… I was a boy.”

Qi Yue’an nodded, unsurprised, which in turn seemed to surprise Xiyin.

“Uh… you’re not surprised? That the person who’s been like a best friend to you was born a boy…”

It confirmed a suspicion she’d had, and strangely, it made her feel less alone.

There was also a secret delight in knowing someone else’s secret.

“Yeah, I sort of guessed. Both when I first woke up at your place, and this morning…”

As she spoke, Xiyin wracked her brain, trying to recall what mistake she could have made, but came up empty.

Qi Yue’an deliberately let her ponder, a rare, mischievous smile gracing her lips.

“You seemed to be having a hard time, you know~”

“Small fry~ Small fry~”

She leaned in closer, mimicking Bai Jin’s adorable tone.

The sudden shift in her expression and demeanor startled Xiyin, who recoiled slightly and turned her face away.

“How did you get infected by that little brat Bai Jin?”

Qi Yue’an chuckled behind her hand, realizing that the sliver of memory she’d inherited from Qi Yue was useful after all.

The usually rational and assertive Xiyin always seemed to soften around her.

“Xi, just keep calling me An’an.

The past doesn’t matter.

What matters is where we are now.”

As she said this, she took hold of Xiyin’s cold hand.

Xiyin instinctively resisted for a second before relaxing her grip.

“If you want to talk, you can.

You promised you’d be my teammate for life, remember?”

Qi Yue’an looked at her, offering a comforting smile, and it was only then that Xiyin truly met her gaze.

Because she still had no new clothes since becoming a magical girl, she was wearing the same black-and-white gothic lolita dress from their first encounter.

The moonlight illuminated her profile.

Her half-black, half-white hair danced in the night breeze, making her look like an innocent princess from a fairy tale one moment, and a cunning witch the next.

She seemed different from the girl Xiyin usually saw.

Was she doing this to put her at ease?

Or was this her true self?

Xiyin didn’t know, but she quietly made a resolution.

And so, on that late autumn balcony, she began her story, her tone as calm as she could make it.

She mentioned a former name, a past she had tried to forget.

During her third year of high school, a devastating blow had caused her to shut herself away at home, cutting off almost all contact with the outside world.

“It was music… that saved me.”

A trace of warmth entered Xiyin’s voice.

“Only when I was lost in a melody did I feel real, whole.”

Later, against her family’s wishes and despite the harsh realities, she had resolutely left home to struggle for survival in the city alone.

She had even chosen an obscure path related to her dream, sustained only by raw courage and a near-fanatical conviction.

“My wish… was to be able to pursue my dream without any distractions.

Because back then, it was the only thing… the only wish that kept me alive.”

She had finally voiced her deepest desire.

She paused, as if to add a footnote to her choice, her tone tinged with a wistful yet firm resolve.

“Perhaps it’s because I have my own understanding of ‘individuality,’ which is why I was like that back then.

My title, ‘Starfall Sky’… when I chose it, I was thinking about how the countless stars shine so brightly, each one unique.

I wanted to be like that, too…”

“Heh… because before all this… I always felt like I was invisible.”

Finally, as if summarizing or perhaps steeling herself, she looked directly into Qi Yue’an’s eyes, the brilliant light in her own gaze nearly searing through her, reigniting the emotions that Qi Yue’an had temporarily suppressed in order to comfort her.

“I believe that with anything, the most important part is just doing it.”

Those words struck her like an arrow, piercing the softest, most regretful part of Qi Yue’an’s heart—she always thought too much and did too little, her endless worries causing her to miss out on everything.

Qi Yue’an listened in silence, her heart a raging storm, though her practiced control kept any hint of shock or surprise from her face.

She made it seem as if Xiyin were recounting an ordinary memory.

Only when Xiyin finished did she reach out and gently place her hand over Xiyin’s, which had grown cold in the night air.

“You’re so strong, Xi.”

Qi Yue’an’s voice was soft, yet it carried a sincere admiration she could no longer suppress.

“Like a star… striving to shine.

I’m envious.”

Her words flowed as gently as moonlight, soothing the faint unease Xiyin felt after her confession.

In that moment, Xiyin clearly sensed that this girl beside her, this seemingly fragile girl who was always hiding parts of herself, possessed a kind of heavy gravity that she herself was unaware of.

After that, she fell silent, continuing to sit there quietly.

But in the end, Qi Yue’an never confided her own heavy heart to Xiyin.

She simply withdrew her warm hand, looked back to the night sky, and locked her swirling questions and fears away once more.

Just then, however, the balcony door slid open again.

“Well, well~ I was wondering where everyone went.

So you two are out here moon-gazing?”

Bai Zhi poked her head in, a mischievous grin on her face.

Behind her, Bai Jin followed, a potato chip still in her mouth.

She looked at the two on the balcony with curiosity in her eyes.

“Has the small fry fox spirit bewitched someone again?

I saw that… Mmph…!”

Xiyin quickly clamped a hand over her mouth and pulled her into an embrace, shattering the warm, slightly melancholic atmosphere and replacing it with lively energy.

With Xiyin’s defenses down, Bai Zhi successfully sidled over, her eyes darting between Qi Yue’an and Xiyin as she laughed slyly.

“A secret rendezvous on the balcony in the middle of the night~

Are there secrets you don’t want us to hear?

Oh, I’m so heartbroken!

Your humble servant has been abandoned, boo-hoo…”

Xiyin looked away with a helpless sigh, while Qi Yue’an felt a secret wave of relief at the interruption of the heavy mood.

Bai Zhi looked at them, and a sudden idea struck her.

“Right!

Since we’ve decided to form a group, we have to commemorate it!

Let’s take a group photo!”

The suggestion was met with approval, and the four of them squeezed together on the small balcony, with the scattered city lights and the deep night sky as their backdrop.

Bai Zhi flashed a cheerful peace sign, her smile radiant; Bai Jin squeezed into the middle, striking a confident pose as if to say, “This knight is the coolest”; Xiyin seemed somewhat reluctant, but the irrepressible smile at the corner of her mouth betrayed her true feelings; and Qi Yue’an offered a genuine smile, her silver eyes appearing exceptionally clear in the darkness.

The soft click of the phone’s shutter froze the brief, yet incredibly warm moment in time.

In that instant, it felt as if all worries, confusion, and hardships were shut out, leaving only the quiet bond that had formed between the four girls, a connection as beautiful and ethereal as a dream.

The moon and stars always shine together in the same celestial canopy, seemingly close, yet separated by light-years—a distance far greater than that between the silent earth and the lonely moon.

That cold, clear moon never yearned for the boundless, ethereal universe.

It only ever stubbornly chased the fading light of the sun, craving nothing more than a warm patch of earth where it could finally rest.

But the gears of fate continue to turn, and nothing is eternal.

Oh, girl who has rediscovered her soul, when the past and future, dreams and reality collide, will you be able to protect the faith in your heart through the coming storm and find true happiness?