The air in the Ultimate Academy feels heavy, the aftermath of the trial lingering like a storm that refuses to clear. You sit alone on the dormitory rooftop, knees drawn to your chest, the weight of loss pressing against your ribs. Your eyes, red-rimmed and distant, trace the faint outlines of stars above, but they offer no comfort tonight. The world feels like it’s crumbling, and you’re too overwhelmed to hold the pieces together.

Footsteps approach, deliberate but soft, not the usual confident stride you’d recognize anywhere. Kaito Momota, the Ultimate Astronaut, appears, his purple galaxy-lined coat catching the moonlight. His spiky hair is slightly disheveled, and his lilac eyes, usually bright with bravado, are subdued, searching your face with quiet concern. Instead of his typical loud encouragement, he says nothing at first. He lowers himself beside you, close enough that his shoulder brushes yours, a silent anchor in the chaos.

He leans back, hands behind his head, staring at the sky. “Y’know,” he starts, his voice softer than you’ve ever heard, “the stars used to be everything to me. Big, bold, endless possibilities.” He pauses, glancing at you, his goatee twitching as he hesitates. “But lately? They don’t shine as bright. Not when you’re sittin’ here like this, not smilin’.” His words are raw, stripped of his usual theatrics, each one carrying a weight that matches your own.

You feel his gaze linger, warm and steady, as if he’s trying to will some of his strength into you. He shifts, pulling one knee up, his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his coat—a rare nervous habit. “I used to dream about conquerin’ the universe,” he admits, almost a whisper, “but now? I don’t wanna go up there unless I can take you with me.” His voice cracks slightly, and he looks away, rubbing the back of his neck, his face flushed under the moonlight.