Chapter One - The Child Who Spoke to the Stars

The Celestial Estate was unlike any place in the mortal realm.

Suspended between heaven and earth, it existed in a perpetual twilight, neither day nor night, yet illuminated by a soft, silvery glow that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. The air was fresh and cool, scented with blossoms that bloomed all year. Ponds mirrored constellations that shifted as they pleased, and the trees whispered secrets in a language only the wind understood.

This was the world where Amaya Hoshigaki took her first steps.

From the moment she could walk, the stars seemed to answer her.

When she laughed, faint motes of silver light floated through the air around her. When she spun, a comet‑like trail shimmered briefly behind her. Her presence had an unexplainable gravity—drawing attention without asking for it, commanding stillness without force.

The Kakushi who tended the estate had served the Demon Slayer Corps for generations, yet even they struggled to put into words what it felt like to be near her. They moved silently in her presence, not out of duty alone, but out of awe.

When she was four, Amaya wandered into the central courtyard barefoot.

Her silver‑white hair, too long for a child her age, spilled down her back, catching the glow from the lanterns that never burned out. In the middle of the courtyard lay the great Star Pond, its surface still as glass, reflecting a sky full of constellations.

She crouched at the edge, her golden eyes fixed on the reflection. Then, softly, without thinking, she began to hum.

The melody was simple, almost like a lullaby—yet no one in the estate had ever heard it before.

At her voice, the water began to ripple, not from wind or touch, but as though stirred by invisible hands. And then, impossibly, the stars in the pond’s reflection began to shift. Slowly, methodically, they realigned into new shapes—strange constellations no human had ever charted.

The Kakushi watching from the veranda froze.

It wasn’t a trick of the light. It was as if the heavens themselves had bent down to answer her song.

When she finished humming, the pond went still, and the constellations returned to their usual positions. Amaya tilted her head, blinking as though waking from a dream, and wandered off without a word.

That night, the Kakushi whispered among themselves: She calls to the stars.

By six, her strange abilities had grown stronger.

If she held her hands apart, small orbs of starlight would gather between them, floating lazily like fireflies before fading. She would send them drifting across the gardens, laughing softly when they landed on the branches of the blooming sakura trees.

It was around this time that the Master himself began to visit her more often.

Kagaya Ubuyashiki never rushed her training. He would simply watch as she explored the estate, his faint smile never leaving. When he did speak, it was always to ask her questions that made her think—about what she saw in the stars, about the shapes in the constellations, about what she felt when she moved her small practice sword.

When she turned seven, she was given her first real wooden blade.

It was light in her hands, perfectly balanced for her small frame. The first time she took her stance, her posture was so steady it was as if she’d done it a hundred times before. Each strike she made was deliberate, each step precise.

One afternoon, while training in the courtyard, she struck three times in the air—smooth, flowing motions. At the final cut, a faint arc of silver light traced her blade’s path and lingered for a heartbeat before fading.

The Kakushi watching exchanged uneasy glances.

The Master only nodded, his voice soft.

“The stars are already guiding her blade.”

But it was the nights that truly revealed her nature.

Amaya had a habit of climbing to the highest balcony in the estate after everyone else had gone to rest. Barefoot, wrapped in a light robe, she would sit cross‑legged and gaze upward for hours. Sometimes she whispered, sometimes she simply stared.

And sometimes… the stars answered.

Once, a shooting star fell so close in the reflection of the pond below that the air seemed to hum with its passage. Another time, the constellations shifted almost imperceptibly, forming a shape that lingered just long enough for her to smile at it.

No one knew what passed between her and the heavens in those moments.

But they knew she did not look at the stars the way others did. She looked at them as one looks at old friends.

Her bond with the Master was quiet, but strong.

Though she was young, she understood that she was not like the others in the estate. She was being prepared for something, though she did not yet know what. Kagaya never lied to her, but neither did he reveal too much.

“Your path will not be easy, Amaya,” he told her one evening as they walked through the glowing gardens. “But the heavens do not give gifts without purpose. And you… you were born with theirs.”

She did not fully understand, but she nodded. And deep inside, she felt the truth of it.

⸻

Years later, when she would stand beside the Nine Hashira in battle, she would remember these quiet days—the silver gardens, the glowing ponds, the balcony where the stars bent close to listen. She would remember the soft voice of the Master and the way the air always felt lighter here.

But for now, she was still a child of the estate. A child who laughed when the blossoms glowed, who danced with drifting starlight, and who sang to the heavens with a voice they could not ignore.

The Celestial Estate was her sanctuary.

And somewhere far beyond the veil, the stars were watching.

***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***