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2.94% Ember of the Starry Sky / Chapter 1: Born to Burn
Ember of the Starry Sky Ember of the Starry Sky original

Ember of the Starry Sky

作者: Mani_Holo

© WebNovel

章 1: Born to Burn

I hate my life. No, seriously, I hate it. Imagine this: the first thing you ever do in this world is accidentally burn down half your house. Then, the whole village, including your loving parents, decides you're cursed.

And that's just Day One. Welcome to my life.

So yeah, that's me Yukari Hoshizora, born in X765, and the star of the village's "Who Do We Blame For Everything?" game. I was born with flames shooting out of my tiny little baby fists, which sounds kind of cool, right? No. Apparently, babies aren't supposed to set things on fire, and I didn't get that memo. Now everyone treats me like I'm some kind of walking disaster.

I mean, they're not wrong, but still.

Take my parents, for example. If there's a handbook on being the world's worst parents, Asahi and Akio Hoshizora could write the damn thing. They've been perfecting their craft for five long, miserable years, and let me tell you, they are experts at pretending I don't exist.

Mom oh sorry, Asahi she doesn't like it when I call her "Mom," says it gives her headaches or something. Anyway, she's usually staring into a pot of stew like it holds the secrets of the universe. Guess what? It doesn't. She just doesn't want to look at me, probably in case I catch on fire again. I haven't set anything ablaze in years, but old habits die hard, I guess.

Dad, or Akio, on the other hand, is more of the "Oh God, why won't you just vanish?" type. He tries to be subtle about it, but subtlety isn't really his strong suit. Every time he walks into a room and sees me there, his eye twitches. It's like I'm some stray cat that keeps sneaking in, and he just can't figure out how to get rid of me.

I can almost hear his thoughts: "Why are you still here? Shouldn't you have spontaneously combusted by now?"

Anyway, it's my birthday today. I'm five years old, which means I've survived five years of this delightful little hellhole called Sorasei Village. Five years of being ignored, insulted, and occasionally called "demon spawn" behind my back. Good times.

Today started like any other day: with disappointment. I woke up, opened my eyes, and guess what? I was still here. No surprise magical escape, no phoenix swooping in to rescue me from this trash heap. Just me, my stupid village, and my even stupider family.

I trudge into the kitchen, where Asahi is stirring her eternal stew. "Good morning, dear daughter," she doesn't say. Instead, she squints at me like I'm the worst thing she's ever seen.

"Yukari," she says, her voice as flat as the day she married Dad. "You're tracking dirt in the house again."

Ah, yes. Dirt. The true curse upon this household.

"Good morning to you too, Mother," I say, dropping some extra dirt from my boots onto the floor, just to be polite. She sighs dramatically, like I've personally insulted the concept of cleanliness itself.

She ignores me after that, which is fine. I'm used to it. I sit at the table, waiting for Dad to show up so he can join the daily "What Did We Do To Deserve This?" ritual. When he finally comes in, he gives me that classic eye twitch, like clockwork.

"Yukari," he grunts, because saying my name without a tone of disgust is apparently too much effort. "Don't just sit there. Do something useful."

I look around the empty, miserable kitchen. "Like what? Start a fire?"

His eye twitches harder. That was probably a low blow, but hey, it's my birthday. I deserve to have a little fun.

After breakfast (if you can call whatever that stew is "food"), I head outside. I need to get away from those two before I start a fire on purpose. Not that I would, but it's nice to think about. Maybe a little flame here, a little smoke there… maybe I'll even burn this entire stupid village to the ground.

Not that I'm bitter or anything.

I plop myself down in the dirt, because dirt doesn't care if you're cursed. The sun's barely up, but it's already hot. The kind of heat that makes you want to melt into the ground and never move again. Kind of like my future, if you ask me.

I stare up at the sky, wondering if there's something out there that doesn't suck. People always talk about Fairy Tail, that guild full of strong, amazing wizards who go on adventures and make friends and save the world. That sounds nice.

Too bad I'm stuck here, with nothing but dirt and disappointment to keep me company.

I'm halfway through planning my escape (step one: learn to actually control my fire, step two: burn this place to the ground) when Dad calls me back inside. I drag myself up, wiping the dirt off my hands and face. Not that it matters. If I walked in covered head-to-toe in mud, they'd still only care about the fire thing.

Back in the house, it's the same old routine: silence, awkward stares, and the general feeling that I'm about as welcome as a wasp in a picnic basket. Asahi's still stirring that stew, and Akio's pretending to read something. Probably a guide to ignoring your cursed daughter more efficiently.

Finally, as we sit down to eat, Akio looks at me. "So," he says, in that way people do when they really don't care, "five years old now, huh?"

Wow. Riveting conversation, Dad. Really.

"Yep," I say, stabbing a piece of whatever-this-is with my spoon. "Guess I'm still alive."

He grunts. Asahi glances at me, but quickly looks away. I can tell she wants to say something, probably something inspiring like, "Can you please stop existing?" but she stays quiet.

The rest of the meal is painfully uneventful, but I've gotten used to that. After we finish, I go back to the window, staring at the stars. They're beautiful, in a distant, cold sort of way. Kind of like this village. Kind of like my family.

"Do you hate me?" I blurt out, not really sure why I'm asking. Maybe I'm just bored. Maybe I just want to hear them admit it for once.

Akio looks at me, blinking slowly, like he's trying to figure out how to answer without saying "yes." After a long, awkward pause, he just shrugs. Shrugs. Like he can't even be bothered to come up with an excuse.

"Well, that's good enough for me," I mutter, turning back to the stars


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