Midday in the highlands carried a kind of sunlight unlike any other, not harsh, not gentle. It hovered between thin layers of cloud and cold stone, as if the world itself were breathing slower.
Kuro Sora, age fourteen, was born on the planet Firel, a remote outpost at the edge of the Luxios Empire. He lived far from his family, attending school in Noctis.
His rented room was in an old three-story dormitory renovated for student use.
Though narrow, it was clean. Each unit had its own back stairway, so no one disturbed their neighbors. Ivory-painted walls, stone-gray tiles, and misted corridors greeted him every morning.
Tall, lean, dark-haired, Kuro didn't talk much, but he wasn't cold.
He was average at school, bad at sports, and didn't belong to any standout group. Since he was little, people had called him distant,or worse, careless.
That day, he lay on the green grass, letting time pass quietly. Beside him sat Mike.
Mike Aeran, his classmate and same age, came from a wealthier home. His father was chief engineer at a local energy station. Mike was a bit taller, quick with his hands, always carrying a backpack full of tools instead of books.
He had a thing for tech. Curious and obsessed with how things worked, Mike couldn't rest until he'd taken something apart and put it back together.
Mike used to tease Kuro for staring at the sky like he was waiting for something to fall.
For a dreamer like Kuro, maybe that was true. But Kuro wasn't waiting. He just wanted to understand what lingered between the obvious things.
Different as they were, the two of them ended up in a story that neither expected, drawn into something they couldn't yet name.
This place still functioned fine.
Energy stations, traders, schools, even the interstellar news - everything was piped in from Luxios central.
Luxios, the empire's tech conglomerate, was behind almost everything. Power grids, transit screens, school servers. Its name was sewn into the architecture.
Decades ago, civil wars had devastated Firel's fragile ecology. Luxios took control after their rivals collapsed, helping rebuild civilization from ruin.
Using land-restoration tech, energy harmonizers, and atmospheric filters, Firel began to revive. Moss - red and pale green, returned with the seasons. It was no longer a cold ashland.
Now, Firel wore the skin of rebirth: steadier weather, cleaner air, and low clouds drifting again, signs of a healed ecosystem.
Noctis, the town Kuro now lived in, stood on flat rock between jagged cliffs and fog-draped woods. The air was always a little cold.
Each week, the school news ran a section called "Updates from Luxios",sensor upgrades, new cable installations, energy metrics.
No one really talked about them. Luxios wasn't far-off or grand. It was just... part of the floor. Always there, never noticed.
Days drifted slow, like clouds in soft sunlight. Slow enough that Kuro stopped wondering how he should live.
Some classmates had chosen electrical engineering for after graduation. Kuro, despite his father's work in the same field, didn't want to follow.
It wasn't because he hated engineering. It was because he didn't want to live his father's life.
He wanted freedom.
That thought stayed with him for a long time. Then, on a day as uneventful as any other, Kuro began to feel the shift.
That morning, the skies over Noctis were calm. Nothing strange happened. And somehow, that made him restless.
In Geography class, a notoriously boring subject, Kuro longed to feel the wind.
I need to get out… though I'm not sure why. Maybe just to breathe
Eh, anything outsidee is better than this. Fake a cough, fake a cramp - no one will care. No one ever does.
So he faked a stomach ache and asked to leave early. He was quiet and polite in class, so the request was granted.
He took the path he liked most - past the basalt fields where the wind was open and honest.
"So romantic..." he murmured to himself.
Then suddenly, his heartbeat skipped, not dizziness, not sleepiness. Just something off. As if the space around him had slipped.
"What... just happened?" he whispered.
The wind shifted- a cold undercurrent brushing past his skin. It stuck his mind more than his body.
That afternoon, Mike arrived at Kuro's dorm. They had planned to meet and head to the wind plain, a quiet field they often visited.
Kuro heard footsteps and leaned out.
"Hold on a sec…"
Kuro prepare a small snack for today, the mango his father bring on, Kuro sliced the mango a little and brought along some chili salt.
Mike carried Kuro on his truly steed - a battered electric bike that still hummed like it has a purpose.
"What happened today? On school" Kuro asked.
"Nothing much. But you should stop skipping class. They've noticed you," Mike warned.
"Nah," Kuro shrugged. "What's the worst that could happen?"
Mike was silent, as if judging Kuro with his eyes alone.
…
"…Okay, okay. I'll be careful."
"Oh, by the way... I think I felt something weird after I left class, on my way home," he added.
He told Mike about the feeling.
Mike frowned, said nothing. Kuro couldn't tell if he hadn't heard or was lost in thought.
They let the conversation die. For now.
The next morning, Kuro was late again. While rushing to school, near the fence by the old water plant, he stopped.
Two patches of grass lay before him - different shades, barely different heights.
But he could feel the line between them like a subtle wave. His palms tingled, not painfully. Just... noticed.
It unsettled him more than before .
At the library, he told Mike again, tthis time more seriously.
"You probably dehydrated" Mike said, when told.
Mike's dismissal rubbed Kuro the wrong way - not sharply, but enough to stay in the chest.
Kuro walked off, choosing to find food instead.
That midday, Kuro stood at a fork where a stream crossed into the old tech zone. He closed his eyes.
All sound around him fell away.
Not because he tried to focus. It was like the space itself wanted him to listen.
Then, a click in his mind. Like a gear turning.
Something happened to me, the feeling so true that I cannot denied it, but what's it exactly.
That afternoon, after class, Kuro biked westward, along a quiet road shaded by yellowwood trees. Shafts of sunlight broke through the canopy. The world felt slower.
He had no destination. Just wanted to get away from the chalky smell of classrooms and the buzz of students.
Passing an old electronics shop,Mike's usual haunt,he saw the door closed. But lights were on. A red marker note on the fogged glass read: "Testing in progress – Do not disturb."
Kuro didn't knock. He just paused, stared through the glass a moment, then left.
Part of him didn't want to intrude. Part of him felt Mike was already on his own orbit now,just like Kuro. Nothing needed to be said. Let it be. Quiet. Natural.
From inside, Mike saw him.
Hidden behind the frosted glass, screwdriver in hand, he watched.
He didn't wave. Didn't call out.
He just stood there, silent, watching his friend bike away. A small figure under the weight of falling sunlight.
"It's been a while," he murmured to no one. "Since he looked at something for that long..."
Kuro wanted to tell Mike. But Mike's reaction made him hesitate. He decided to figure it out alone.
To calm himself down, Kuro went downtown to buy some groceries.
He cooked by his own - with crispy fried pork, a bowl of stuffed bitter melon soup, and a pot of warm white rice on the table, Kuro's mood lifted almost instantly
Kuro said nothing that day.
But the next morning, Mike showed up. He placed a half-built wristband on the desk.
"Not saying I believe you. But if you feel something, I want to measure it."
Surprise flickered in Kuro's eyes. Then curiosity.
"Let's find out," he said.
They picked the field behind the campus, where Kuro had felt it strongest.
Set up the device. Calibrate. Wait.
No obvious result.
But at the exact moment Kuro felt the click again, the sensor blinked. A tiny voltage spike. 0.02 off the baseline.
"Hmm. Maybe this place is a little different" Mike muttered. "Or maybe my device is acting up."
He didn't say he believed.
"We should check other locations," Kuro said.
"Tomorrow" Mike replied. "But first, …I need to test the sensor again."
That night, he started redesigning the sensor. This time, with a micro-input filter.
From those unspoken moments, the orbit began to drift.
Classroom maps gained red pins.
Mike's second prototype had a new log field: "Unclassified Anomalous Input."
That's when everything began to shift, maybe more for Mike than anyone.
They kept returning.
After school. Between classes. Skipping meals.
They returned to the fields, then the city edge, then the empty land behind the old relay tower near the mountain belt, even their favorite place. Mike brought updated sensors each time, refined filters, longer range.
Noctis weather remained soft. Rain like whispers. Clouds floating above rooftops like silent watchers.
The air was never warm. Never truly cold. Just present.
"Maybe its true Kuro "Mike finally said "But like you… I don't understand what it means."
Kuro said nothing.
The feeling never returned when he wanted it to.
One Friday, they stayed out longer. The sky didn't move. Kuro sat on a cracked boulder, back to the abandoned data center.
Eyes closed.
"Anything?" Mike asked, watching the readout.
This time, not the feeling, just something he know thats it but have no word to describe.
Kuro shook his head.
"It's like... something brushing the edge of thought. Like knowing you forgot something, but not what."
The sensor blinked once. Then stilled.
"My device works fine. The place is normal. But when you're here… it changes." Mike said. "Maybe you're the key. But to what?"
They drew no conclusions. Not yet. But they began logging time and place.
Nothing matched. Not yet.
For now, it was just a question with weight.
One they weren't ready to answer.
Just two kids chasing echoes.
Following signals they thought led to a small weekend adventure.
Until it became real.
It wasn't just a signal. It was the first calling.
...