THE DAY THE STARS FELL

The party at Bright Hope was still going strong — or rather, falling apart in all the hilarious ways it always did when Shoichi got drunk.

Somewhere between the third plate of dried fish snacks and the suspiciously sweet "non-alcoholic" juice, Shigeru, rebel leader of the local outlaws and infamous elder brother, slammed down an empty bottle with a loud belch.

"This stuff's got a kick!" he announced, wiping his mouth. "I thought you said it was safe!"

Shoichi leaned on him, swaying, eyes half-lidded and glowing with alcohol-induced divinity.

"You're just weak, nii-chan," he slurred, "Me? I could drink ten of these. Maybe twelve. Maybe... hic infinity."

Shigeru looked down. The crate next to Shoichi was empty. Completely. Not a bottle left.

"How many did you drink?"

"All of it."

There was a beat of silence.

Then laughter — howling, falling-out-of-your-seat laughter from the nearby tables.

Even Nurse Yuki chuckled behind her hand.

"He's gonna puke for hours," Kazuhiko said from the shadows. "Don't let him near the west corridor. Last time, it didn't come out of the tiles for weeks."

Shoichi was already on the makeshift dance floor, locked in a dizzy waltz with a grinning elder woman, her floral kimono twirling as he spun her in wide, graceful arcs. For a moment, he looked like a professional — a drunken ballerino lost in ecstasy.

"Encore!" someone yelled.

"He's dancing with granny Tama," Takumi whispered, deadpan, "May the stars protect us."

Granny Tama cackled as Shoichi dipped her low and promptly stumbled backward into a pile of stacked cans.

Meanwhile, Shigeru made his way to the bar, rubbing his temples. He tapped the wood, gesturing for another drink — water this time.

Next to him, a man shifted awkwardly. Shigeru squinted.

"You..."

"...Me."

A pause.

"Hey wait a minute, You and your gang were the ones who snatched my rice cakes and power cells last week."

"What? No way, you must have us misunderstood for another gang, besides You probably left them unattended."

They both drank in silence, awkwardly respectful.

Before the tension could thicken—

THWACK!

Granny Tama, with her walking stick, charged toward Shigeru and his gang, yelling about "Hey you scoundrels, you have been loitering around hospital property," "loud mouths," and "filthy boots near patients."

The rebels scattered like pigeons.

"Hey, you cant treat me like that, I'M A REBEL LEADER!" Shigeru yelled as he ran.

"YOU'RE A PAIN!" Tama bellowed, striking another near-miss.

Laughter exploded through the courtyard as the chase looped through the celebration.

Elsewhere, away from the laughter, something stirred.

In Ward 9, the air changed.

Ella's eyes blinked open — uncertain, cloudy, pained. A groan escaped her lips as she sat up, her limbs stiff, one leg heavily bandaged and marked with scribbles, names, drawings — all from the children, the nurses, the gang.

She read a name aloud:

"Takumi made this... for luck."

"Don't sleep too long - Shoichi"

With effort, she limped forward, grabbing a steel support pipe as a crutch. Her breath was ragged, every step a struggle, but she moved.

Down the passage, through the dim light, past sleeping patients and glowing IV drips.

At the same moment, Shoichi burst from a side hallway, face pale, mouth full of disaster. His eyes darted around — no bucket, no time.

He stumbled forward—

BAM!

He nearly collided with Ella.

Except she dodged — awkwardly but instinctively, twisting sideways like a cat with a limp.

Shoichi spun, crashed into the wall... and slumped right into her.

They locked eyes.

Her gaze was sharp, startled, brilliant.

"You're..."

He passed out with a dramatic sigh, collapsing onto her shoulder like a wet noodle.

Ella froze. One hand awkwardly supported his head. The other clenched the metal bar.

She didn't speak.

She didn't complain.

She just stood there, holding him, confused, blinking at this strange new chapter that had begun without warning.

Back in the courtyard, Shigeru darted behind a crate as Granny Tama brandished her stick with righteous fury.

"QUIT IT GRANNY!"

Hours after the party faded into warm laughter and quiet bellies, the halls of Bright Hope were hushed again. Paper lanterns swayed gently.

Somewhere, Shoichi snored like a congested mule. The old hospital creaked in its sleep.

Dr. Hershoff, cake slice in hand, tapped his walkie.

"Takumi. Elevator."

"On it," came the quiet, efficient reply.

The platform whined as it descended — The Cradle, their only working lift, a Takumi miracle of pulleys, counterweights, and stubborn engineering. Hershoff stepped inside, plate balanced, coat folded over one arm.

"Hold it!" Gekiko's voice — bright, unstoppable — bounced off the corridor.

She hopped in beside him, brushing frosting off her hoodie. "Going up?"

He gave a tired nod. "Tradition."

"Then I'm coming too. Birthday tradition override."

They rose, clinking upward through the open shaft, past old mural floors and scorched ceilings.

Rooftop — the bruised heavens above, the wind curling through tarp and bent antennae.

The sky was less turbulent tonight — dim instead of pitch, painted with burnt violet and dull sapphire.

And from somewhere far beyond, the strange lights of the Killing Stars flickered like signals in a language too old for Earth.

"I know people say we shouldn't look," Gekiko said, squinting up. "But tonight... doesn't feel cursed."

"It is," Hershoff replied dryly, lighting his cigarette. "But curses lose power when you meet them with your chin up."

A silence passed, and then—

Click.

"North rooftops—clear. West beam, unstable. No new patterns in the constellations. Might get a drift storm in three hours."

Kazuhiko's voice cracked in from the walkie. He was perched high on the western watch post — a narrow ledge two floors above them, part of a broken observation wing retrofitted into a lookout.

Their tactician.

Their eagle-eyed chessmaster.

He had a field scope in one hand, a map spread across a reinforced bench in front of him, and every possible entrance and escape route memorized down to the plank.

"Kaz, join us. It's clear tonight," Hershoff said into the walkie.

"Eyes up here are better used than down there. Besides, I already saw the cake. It looked... offensive."

"Shoichi thinks I did a great job!" Gekiko said, dramatically.

"Shoichi thinks with his stomach," Kazuhiko muttered.

They smiled up at the silhouette above — a watchful shadow wrapped in scarf and storm jacket, marking disaster routes and listening to the stars for changes.

"You know," Gekiko said, voice lowering, "the skies, Its why you always come up here after a good day,"

Hershoff stared into the ash-colored sky.

"Maybe," he muttered. "It used to be so bright, I come up here to remind myself that, Maybe One day it will be again but I've learned not to wish on stars."

Another silence.

"You miss them?" she asked gently.

He didn't answer at first. Then— "Every day. But that pain keeps me here. Anchored. I couldn't protect the ones I loved... so I stay and protect the ones I can."

"And now you've got a bunch of us," she said, nudging him. "Shoichi, Takumi, Kazuhiko... even Shigeru and his attitude problem."

He chuckled. "Kazuhiko's the only one keeping us from falling through the roof most days."

"And Takumi's the only reason we have a roof," she added.

"Hey, what about me?" Shoichi came through the walkie.

They both chuckled.

"You are the only reason, we lock the food store,"

He took a deep drag from the cigarette, exhaled toward the killing stars.

"Track's loaded," Takumi said through the radio. "Hope this is the right one. Happy birthday, old man."

A PIECE OF THE STARS

.....In the silence of the ashes, where the shadows learn to breathe,

I walk alone through ruins, with your voice inside of me.

Skies have lost their memory, clouds too heavy to recall,

But I still raise my eyes, like you taught me through it all.

They say the stars have vanished,

That no one's out there now…

But I still hear them whisper,

Through the silence somehow

I carry a piece of the stars in my hand,

A flicker of light when I don't understand.

Even when night tries to swallow me whole,

I hold to the fragments that shine in my soul.

You gave me a spark — now I'll make it burn far…

I carry… a piece of the stars.....

Music poured out — classical, tender. Notes from another century danced with the wind.

He had been searching for the track for a while to add to his collection.

The melody carried across the rooftop and up toward the cosmos like a defiance anthem.