Minato's Arc

Chapter 1 of 7

Minato had chased the star gods for six years, and he had never seen one of their creatures alive. He knew this because he had drawn every rumor into a notebook. Round shapes. Pink skin. Eyes like wet ink. But drawings were guesses, and guesses had led him nowhere. Tonight he sat alone in the old library where he lived, surrounded by shelves that smelled of dust and cold stone. The tall windows showed a sky full of stars he could not reach. He pressed his palm flat on the page. The star gods were said to send small pink creatures down from the sky. Find one, the stories claimed, and it would lead you home to its makers. Minato had read every book in this place. None told him where such a creature might appear. Without one to study, he had no thread to pull. He tucked his black cloth tighter around his shoulders. The white star stitched on it caught the candlelight. A sound broke the quiet. Something soft dropped against the far window. Minato stood. His height made the low candle flame flicker as he crossed the room. He pushed the tall book-ladder aside and reached the glass. On the outer sill, pressed against the pane, sat a creature. It was round and pink, no bigger than a melon. Its eyes were two dark wells. It stared back at him and blinked. His breath caught. He had drawn this exact shape a hundred times, and every time he had been wrong. The real thing was rounder, brighter, breathing. His hands shook as he unlatched the window. The creature did not run. It hopped onto the sill inside and looked up at him. Minato knelt to its level. Slowly, he opened his notebook and held it out. "You're real," he whispered. "You came from them." He studied it the way his years of waiting had taught him. He noted the way it turned toward the window, toward one bright star low on the horizon. Again and again its gaze returned there. Not the moon. Not the brightest star. A single pale one near the treeline. Minato marked its position on a fresh page. Then the creature puffed itself full of air. It floated up, light as a bubble, and drifted back through the open window. Minato lunged, but his fingers closed on empty night. The creature rose over the dark trees, straight toward the star it had watched. He stood at the sill, cold air on his face. He had finally seen one. He had lost it in the same minute. But he had its heading, and he had the star it steered by. Minato grabbed his cloak and pushed his notebook into his belt. The library door groaned as he opened it. For six years he had waited for a place to start. Now the trees swallowed the creature's glow, and he ran after it.