The Boy Who Weaves Dreams and the Woman Who Spins the Starry Sky - The village where the stars have withered, and the boy who never gives up on his dreams

Something touched the tip of his finger. Cold, and silky. But when he looked at his hand, there was nothing. Just the night breeze, probably. Yuu looked up at the sky once more. There were no stars. Not that they didn't exist. They were there, technically. But there were so few. Only a handful of dim lights scattered about, and the night sky was so desolate that it was hard to believe this place had once been called the "Star-Falling Village." The village was called Hoshinosato. It was a small settlement of about four hundred people on the outskirts of a hilly region, northeast of Higashikou. It was where Yuu was born, where he grew up, and where he had always gazed up at the sky. In the center of the village stood an ancient tree said to be over five hundred years old. It was called the Storytelling Tree. Its trunk was so thick that five adults holding hands couldn't encircle it, and its branches spread out as if reaching toward the night sky. Yuu sat at its roots, hugging his knees and gazing upward. Fifteen years old. Black short hair that stuck up slightly. A slender frame dressed in a white shirt and blue pants. The navy-blue cloak he wore over them was embroidered with stars—the only physical manifestation of his desire to become a "dream weaver." His amber eyes traced the dim night sky intently. He pulled a small ceramic cup from his pocket. Star grass tea. The kind he'd gotten from Miyako's shop. It was the specialty of Tsukikage, Hoshinosato's only restaurant, slightly sweet and made you a little drowsy when you drank it. He took a sip. It was warm. (This village... apparently used to have actual star threads falling from the sky.) Yuu mused to himself while gazing upward. Star threads were semi-transparent fibers of light that rained down from the stars in the night sky. Pale silver threads of light visible even to the naked eye. They were said to be directly connected to people's "dreams," and in regions where many stars shone brightly, people could live with rich emotions and vitality. Conversely, when stars withered, entire villages fell into apathy. In Hoshinosato's case, this had been happening for the past five years. His mother had said they'd noticed the star threads decreasing. At first it was just a little darker, but it had progressed steadily, and now the threads were barely visible in the night sky. Most villagers walked around with vacant expressions, their farm work seemed half-hearted, and no one came outside once night fell. (The brighter the stars shine, the more vividly people can live. When the stars wither, people lose the ability to dream.) That was the kind of world this was. That's why the profession of "dream weaver" existed. They were people who grasped star threads with their bare hands, wove them together, and delivered dreams to people. Even in regions with few star threads, a skilled dream weaver could provide villagers with peaceful dreams and protect them from nightmares. There were only about thirty active dream weavers in all of Higashikou—they were people with rare talents. (I want to become one too.) Yuu took another sip of star grass tea. He'd been coming to the Storytelling Tree's plaza every night for the past three years. Ever since reading about dream weavers in a book, he couldn't give up on the idea. He'd read that if your hand glowed faintly when you touched a star thread, you had the aptitude. So every night he came here to gaze at the sky. But three years had passed with nothing happening. Well, that made sense, he supposed. It was a talent one in four thousand people had. Still, he couldn't stop. "You're here again, Yuu." A voice came from behind. It was Kazuha. The owner of the general store "Yozora-do" on the eastern edge of Hoshinosato, a man in his forties with a sturdy build and a sun-tanned face. His mouth was crude, but Yuu's assessment was that he wasn't actually mean-spirited. He seemed to be on his way somewhere, carrying a load of goods, and he glanced at Yuu before sighing. "Dream weavers don't come to our village. Staring up at the sky won't bring the stars back." "That's not true!" He'd responded reflexively. Kazuha looked at him in surprise. "...That's not true? What exactly isn't true about it?" "Uh..." Yuu's words caught in his throat. He'd said it wasn't true, but what exactly wasn't true? That the stars would come back? That a dream weaver would come? ...He wasn't confident about either. "I'll become one." The words had come out before he realized it. "I'll become a dream weaver and bring back the stars to this village. So it's not true." Kazuha stared at Yuu. There was a silence of about three seconds. "...Do you have the aptitude?" "...No." "Then saying 'it's not true' is unreasonable." It was a fair point. Completely fair. Yuu gritted his teeth and stood up. "But I'm definitely going to become one! Absolutely, I'm going to become a dream weaver——" Thud. His foot caught on a root of the Storytelling Tree. Yuu pitched forward spectacularly, his face plunging into the muddy ground. The damp soil from the night dew stuck to his cheek. The cup of star grass tea rolled away, spilling its remaining contents. "..." Silence. Yuu lifted his mud-covered face and looked at Kazuha. Kazuha stood there looking somewhat taken aback. "Well... do your best." "If you're going to encourage me, help me up!" "Get up yourself." Kazuha walked away. Yuu wiped the mud off and stood up, feeling pathetic. But—as Kazuha left, he glanced up at the sky for just a moment. Only a brief instant. Then he looked away and continued walking as if nothing had happened. (That person must be concerned about the stars too.) Yuu thought quietly to himself. Everyone really did remember when the stars here shone brightly. They'd just learned to give up. The night grew deeper. The lights in the village went out one by one. The night in Hoshinosato, with its wooden houses lined up in rows, was quiet, and even the sound of insects seemed listless. Only a few windows glowed with the light of star ore lamps—lamps that used star ore, a mineral that temporarily stored star threads. Yuu was still in the plaza. He hadn't been told to leave, he wasn't sleepy, and for some reason he wanted to stay a little longer. He sat back down at the roots of the Storytelling Tree and gazed blankly at the night sky. The wind blew. Leaves rustled. (Even just one star thread...) He'd been thinking that for three years straight. Just one would be enough. If it touched his hand, he could check whether it glowed. But it never came. Almost nothing fell from the withering sky. —Then it happened. Something touched the tip of his finger. The same sensation as before. But this time, he understood clearly. Cold, and silky. A hazy light wavered softly at the tip of Yuu's index finger. Yuu narrowed his eyes. It was a silver thread. Thin. Incredibly thin. Almost invisible. But it was definitely hanging down from the withering night sky, just one thread, tangled around Yuu's fingertip—glowing faintly. (Huh?) Yuu's heart clenched. (Huh, huh, huh?) "Huh, huh, huh!?" The words came out loud. But there was no one around. Yuu tried to draw the thread closer with trembling hands. He had no idea how to grasp it. The book had only said "grasp it with your hand," with no mention of technique or how much force to use. (Here goes.) He grabbed it hard. "Nn, nnngh!" He pulled. He pulled hard. The thread stretched out, but new thread didn't keep falling from above, so it tangled up in Yuu's hands, wrapping around and around. In his mind, he was thinking "weave it into a star shape." A glittering, beautiful star-shaped dream fabric. What actually resulted was—— A crumpled, warped, daikon radish-like shape. "..." Yuu looked at what was in his hands. The silver light was weak, the whole thing was limp and droopy, and no matter how you looked at it, it didn't resemble a star. If anything, it looked like a withered daikon radish or some kind of crumbly mess. But. In that instant, light spread out from the roots of the Storytelling Tree. A starry sky. A small starfield appeared on the grass and soil at Yuu's feet. Just for a moment. Really just for an instant, silver stars glimmered on the earth, and then it faded away. Yuu couldn't move for a while. Even in the shape of a daikon radish, he had definitely woven a "dream fabric." It had definitely held light. "You... could it be..." He jumped at the voice. He turned around to see a round-bodied woman standing there. She looked to be in her fifties, wearing a white apron. It was Miyako, the owner of the herbal tea shop Tsukikage. She must have been passing by on the night road, as she was holding a shopping bag and had frozen in place. Her round eyes had grown even rounder. "Your hand... it was glowing." "Miyako! Did you see!? All of it!?" "I saw it all." Miyako approached Yuu slowly and examined his hands closely. The thread had already disappeared, and his hands were just ordinary hands. But Miyako's expression remained serious. "So the thing about judging whether you have the aptitude of a dream weaver by whether your hand glows... it was true?" His voice cracked. It actually cracked. Miyako smiled a little. "It's the truth. Though this is the first time I've seen it directly." "So... can I become a dream weaver?" Miyako paused for a moment. "You might have the aptitude, that's all. You need to form a formal master-apprentice relationship, undergo training, and pass the one-night weaving test to be officially recognized." "One-night weaving?" "A test where you weave dreams for an entire village in one night. Only after passing that can you become a formal dream weaver. But you don't have a master right now, and there's no one here who can teach you——" "There's an organization called Hoshitsumugi-za, right?" Miyako looked a bit surprised. "You know a lot about it." "I read about it in a book. An organization that trains dream weavers and dispatches them to various places. It's in Minatomachi, right?" Minatomachi—the southern shore of Lake Yumenominato, the largest settlement in Higashikou. It was about eighty kilometers southwest of Hoshinosato, and it was where the dream weaver training organization Hoshitsumugi-za had its headquarters. "If you're going to contact them, you'll need to travel. It takes at least four days on foot." "Then I'll go find a master!" Miyako froze. "...You decided just now?" "I decided just now." "Isn't that fast?" "Not at all! If anything, it's too slow. I waited three years just to touch a thread, so if I stop here, the next three years will be wasted." Miyako stood with her mouth open, staring at Yuu for a while. Then she laughed softly. With amusement, but also warmth. "...That's so like you. But make sure you prepare properly for the journey. Talk to your mother, bring a map, bring food." "Understood!" When he got home, his mother was already asleep. His mother, who worked every day as an herbalist, went to bed early. She lay quietly in her usual place in the modest two-story house. Yuu looked at her sleeping face for a while. It was a tired face, he thought. When she smiled, wrinkles formed at the corners of her eyes, and that was his favorite expression, but now she was just sleeping quietly. (Sorry for leaving so suddenly.) But if he didn't leave a message, it would worry her even more. Yuu knelt down beside her and spoke in a small voice. "I'm going to bring back the stars to this village. I promise I'll come back." His mother didn't wake. But Yuu stood up and began packing his things. The cloak was essential. A change of clothes. The rest of the star grass tea Miyako had given him. And then... a map——. A map. Yuu looked around the room. Where was the map? It should have been in his father's bookshelf, and he had a memory of seeing it long a

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Episode 1

Name: The Boy Who Weaves Dreams and the Woman Who Spins the Starry Sky
Author: Novelia

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