[Mini Creative Writing Award] ✨What "Freedom" Means to You✨ | Short Story "To the Free Sky"

📙 I am participating in Mr. Kawamura's [Mini Creative Writing Award].

📗 The chosen theme is ✨What "Freedom" Means to You✨

▼ Main Story

📖 [Short Story] To the Free Sky

Chapter 1: The Man Who Buys Breath

The first thing I do when I wake up in the morning is look at the display on the ceiling.

A red digital display glows quietly in the corner of the bedroom.

Kaito stared at it for a while, then slowly exhaled. It's a waste, he thought reflexively. For the past few years, he couldn't shake the feeling that every breath he exhaled had a price tag attached to it.

On this planet, oxygen costs money.

Decades ago, the earth cracked. Magma gas erupted from the depths, dyeing the sky gray, and ever since then, the outside air has burned human lungs. So, people hide indoors, living by breathing the "clean oxygen" sold by corporations. To inhale is to have your money drained.

A gaunt face is reflected in the bathroom mirror. Thirty-four years old. He works as a subcontractor for an air conditioning management company, going around inspecting oxygen supply lines in other people's homes. Every day, he wears down his own breath to protect the breathing of others.

He puts on his mask and holds his employee ID up to the meter at the entrance. With a beep, his oxygen for the commute is charged. Every time he looks at the remaining capacity meter, his heart tightens.

Outside, it was the usual gray. The word "sky" no longer came to anyone's lips. Above their heads was nothing but a dim cloud cover that served as a ceiling. When he was a child, his father often said,

"Kaito, the sky is actually blue."

Blue. Kaito only knows that color from paintings.

On the street, people flow past each other without looking, their faces hidden behind masks. Everyone walks with their heads down, concerned only with their own remaining oxygen meters. The people of this city had long forgotten how to share their breath.

On a giant screen at the corner, an unfamiliar video played that day.

The government seal. Solemn music. And the announcer's excited voice.

"--We, the Soleil Federation, announce today the first manned space flight project in human history, the 'Soleil Project.' For the first time, we will challenge what lies beyond the sky."

I stopped in my tracks. Everyone in the city, who had been looking down, lifted their faces just a little.

“We are accepting applications from the entire nation for one astronaut.”

Kaito’s heart gave a single, heavy leap.

That night, he opened an old trunk. It was his father’s keepsake. A yellowed astronomy book, a faded star chart, and a single note. In his father’s angular handwriting, it was written:

“Beyond the sky, there is air you can breathe for free.”

He traced that line with his fingertip.

His father had been an observation technician in this city. Before the crustal shifts, back when the sky was still visible, he was a man who spent all his time watching the stars. In the corner of the star chart, there was a small circle in red ink. It marked a nameless, distant point. A greenish light that only his father had noticed.

The next morning, Kaito sat in front of the application form.

It wasn’t to survive. He just wanted to do it once. He wanted to take off his mask, take a deep breath, and laugh.

He gripped his pen.

Chapter 2: The Chosen One

Forty-three thousand people applied.

Most of them were people tired of living. Tired of the price of oxygen, the remaining amount for tomorrow, and the days spent looking down. Everyone was looking for an escape route beyond the sky.

The selection process was cruelly harsh.

Tests to maintain consciousness in a low-oxygen chamber. Acceleration training that crushed the entire body in a centrifuge. Being locked in a confined space for days, walking on the edge of a mental breakdown. The numbers dwindled rapidly. From forty thousand to four thousand. From four thousand to four hundred.

Kaito remained.

He didn’t even know why himself. There were people with more physical strength. His intellect wasn’t exceptional either. But he had one quality that no one else possessed.

He was the only one who could keep smiling in the low-oxygen chamber until the very end.

“You’re a strange man.”

The woman he was paired with for flight control training said that with a look of disbelief. Lynn. A flight director candidate for the Soleil Project. She was a little younger than Kaito, cold as ice, yet there was something strangely intense deep in her eyes.

"When the air gets thin, for some reason, I start to laugh," Kaito replied. "Getting angry doesn't make the air increase, does it?"

Rin said nothing, just kept typing in data. For some reason, Kaito remembers her profile very well.

The day of the final selection. Kaito was the only one called into the conference room.

"Congratulations," said the government official. He was smiling. But his eyes were not smiling. "You are humanity's first astronaut. You will carry the hopes of the entire nation on your shoulders."

Hope. That word rang with a strange heaviness.

The press conference room was a storm of flashes. Kaito's face was projected onto screens all over the city. People who had been looking down lifted their heads and called his name. A hero. A savior. The first man in human history to go beyond the sky.

However, that night, when he stood alone by the window of the training facility, what was in Kaito's heart was not pride.

He spread out his father's star chart again. A red circle. A nameless point.

"What are you really going to see?"

Before he knew it, Rin was standing behind him. Her face without the mask. The first time he had ever seen it.

"Air," Kaito said. "Air that I can breathe for free."

Rin softened her mouth slightly. It was an expression too lonely to be called a smile.

"I hope you find it."

For some reason, a faint shadow bled into her voice.

Chapter 3: The Weight of the Countdown

The night before the launch, Kaito overheard a conversation.

In the corridor of the control building. Voices of government officials leaked through the gap of a door that was about to close. He hadn't intended to stop. He just happened to hear it.

"The prospect of there being oxygen in outer space is—scientifically, infinitely low."

"Infinitely, yes," another voice replied in a low tone. "But not a single person has said it is zero. No one has ever been there."

"So, it's a gamble, then."

It's a gamble. But the people are looking for hope. Humanity is heading into the sky for the first time. That alone has meaning.

A short silence.

Will that pilot... be able to come back?

I don't know. There's no guarantee of fuel, oxygen, a return trip, or even his life. ...But keep that quiet. We need him to be a hero.

His heart turned cold.

They knew. They knew there was a high probability that there was no oxygen in space, and that he might not be able to return. Yet, to maintain the people's hope, they were launching one man.

Kaito quietly left the scene.

Strangely, no anger welled up. He just felt terribly, deathly calm.

When he returned to his room, Rin was there, holding a small silver canister.

Take this with you.

If it's a spare, there's already one loaded on the ship.

This is different. Rin lowered her eyes. It was my younger brother's. He died three years ago from cheap oxygen poisoning. He was nineteen... Please take him with you, too.

Kaito accepted it. It felt heavy.

He thought of it as the weight of a life. He decided he would tuck it away quietly in the ship's emergency kit.

Listen to me, Rin, Kaito began quietly. There probably isn't any air in space. There's no fuel for the return trip either. You all know that, and yet you're sending me up.

Rin's shoulders stiffened. A long silence.

...I know, she finally said, as if squeezing the words out. I tried to stop it. Many times. But it wouldn't stop. I'm sorry. I'm one of the people sending you to your death.

Don't apologize, Kaito laughed. No one knows if there is air in space. There's a high probability there isn't. --But no one has proven that there isn't, either. So, I'll be the one to find out.

He gripped the silver canister tightly.

Besides, I have my father's star chart. The green light that only my father noticed. I want to see with my own eyes whether that really exists.

Rin looked up. There was something shining in her eyes.

"You must let me know," her voice trembled. "What you find on the other side. Whether you're breathing or not. Tell me everything you see."

"I promise."

Outside the window, through a gap in the gray cloud cover, she thought she saw a tiny light for just a moment.

It was a star.

Dawn was approaching.

Chapter 4: Launch

"T-minus sixty seconds."

Rin's voice was stiff on the other end of the communicator.

Kaito sank into the narrow cockpit. The belts tightened around his entire body. The lights of the instruments flashed across his field of vision. The sound of his own heartbeat echoed louder than anything else.

On the screen in the launch control room, the entire nation was visible. In every town square, people had stopped looking down and gathered together. Everyone was looking up at the gray sky. Countless eyes behind masks. All of them were fixed on this single craft.

"T-minus thirty seconds. Engine pressurization starting."

The hull began to tremble like a living thing. A vibration pushed up from the bottom of his gut. His teeth chattered. Kaito gripped the control stick until his fingertips turned white.

"Hey, Rin."

"What is it? Not now."

"Thank you."

He heard a sharp intake of breath on the other side of the communicator. Then, her usual blunt voice returned.

"Save the thanks until you report back from the other side."

"T-minus ten seconds. Nine, eight..."

Kaito closed his eyes. His father's face appeared in his mind. That soft voice he used when he spoke of the blue sky.

"--Three, two, one"

"Ignition"

The world exploded.

A roar. Acceleration that crushed his entire body. His vision burned pure white. Kaito let out a silent scream. The ship broke through the gray ceiling, racing toward the sky like a pillar of light.

The control room erupted in murmurs. The entire nation held its breath. It was the moment humanity reached the sky for the first time.

"Ascent, steady," Rin's voice trembled. "Kaito, are you alive?"

"...I'm alive. Control Tower," Kaito smiled through his clenched teeth. "There are no problems here. The problem has always been the air over there."

He broke through the cloud cover.

Outside the window, the colors changed rapidly. The gray faded away. A color he had never seen in his entire life was there.

Blue.

"--No way."

His father was right. The sky was blue. Tears welled up, blurring his vision.

And the blue deepened further. Into dark blue. Into black.

Eventually, the ship pierced through the atmospheric membrane.

A pitch-black, silent space. Countless stars were scattered about, not even blinking. Below him, his home planet, covered in water, floated in a round shape.

It was beautiful. Breathtakingly so.

"Can you see it, Rin?" Kaito said in a raspy voice. "Stars. Countless stars."

"I'm seeing them through the data," Rin replied with a tearful laugh. "And--is there air outside?"

Kaito reached for his helmet.

This was the place to verify the answer to the gamble. Is there air in space, or is there not? No one knows. Not a single person has confirmed it yet.

I unfasten the latch.

Then, I lift the helmet just a little.

In that instant, my throat seized up.

There is no air. My lungs, trying to inhale, grasp at nothingness in vain. The cold void clings to my skin. Reflexively, Kaito slams the helmet back on. The latch clicks. My ragged breathing fogs the inside of the helmet white.

"Kaito!? What's wrong? Respond!"

"...There isn't even a scrap of air." Breathing heavily, Kaito laughed. It was a dry laugh. "Lin. Space is a vacuum. Your predictions were right."

I could tell the control room had gone silent.

How ironic. The freedom I had longed for so much. A place where no one manages your breathing. Air you don't have to pay for. The place I had finally reached was—a place where you cannot breathe.

Was this what absolute freedom meant? That not having your breathing managed meant that breathing itself did not exist?

Yet, through the visor, Kaito had not given up yet. With trembling hands, he spreads out his father's star chart. He compares the real starry sky outside the window with the chart.

Countless points of light. The many small marks his father had spent his whole life recording. He overlays them one by one onto the stars before his eyes.

And—he found it.

The red circle on the star chart. That one point only his father had noticed. In that exact same spot, a star was indeed shining.

It wasn't gray, or black. It wasn't even blue.

It was green.

"Lin," Kaito's voice trembled. "I found it. That star from my father's chart. I can see it from here. It's right there."

He taps the instruments. Setting the course toward that one point. Toward the green light his father had spent his life watching.

Chapter 5: Vacuum

"Course set for the green star. It's very close. Even with this fuel, I can reach it."

At Kaito's voice, Lin, on the other side of the transmission, gasped.

Wait. Are you sure it's close? We don't have enough fuel for the return trip.

I never intended to return from the start, Kaito said quietly. But I can make it that far. If my old man's records are correct, that star is just a stone's throw away.

The bow turns toward the green light. The engine quietly squeezes out its power.

However, after a while, the instruments began to blink red.

Not enough.

The voices of the high-ranking officials echo in the back of his mind.
There is no guarantee of fuel, oxygen, a way home, or even his life.
The green star is just a little further. His oxygen cannot bridge that final gap.

Kaito was floating all alone in a sea of countless stars. Below him was his blue home. Ahead of him was the green light that seemed within reach. Between them, his breath alone was quietly coming to an end.

Rin, he called out softly into the communicator. Can you hear me?

I can hear you, her voice was raspy. Kaito, you're running out of oxygen, aren't you? The instrument readings are showing up here too.

Yeah. Just a little bit more, Kaito laughed. It's ironic, isn't it? Coming here to find breath, only to run out of it myself.

That's enough, Rin shouted. Don't push yourself. Just wait there. I'll do something—

Rin.

Kaito reached for the emergency kit beside his seat. He opened the lid. It was buried at the bottom, beneath tools and medical packs.

His fingers touched cold metal. A silver cylinder. The last breath his younger brother left behind.

There's still one left.

On the other side of the transmission, Rin gasped.

It's your brother's breath, Kaito said, slowly inserting it into the life support system's connection port. With this, I might just make it.

There was a click.

The cylinder valve opened. A faint hiss. Life began to flow into the ship.

The numbers on the instrument stopped. Then, they increased by just a tiny fraction.

Sufficient. Just barely, barely enough. A single life, without a margin of error.

"We'll make it," Kaito said in a trembling voice. "Lin, we'll make it. Your brother is going to take me to that star."

He gripped the control stick again. He pointed the bow toward the green light.

"Course locked. To the green star—full speed ahead."

The engine roared, quietly, yet powerfully.

The ship turned its back on its homeland and pushed straight ahead toward its only hope.

Countless stars watched over its wake in silence.

Final Chapter: To the Free Sky

The green is drawing closer.

The star began to fill the window. A deep, soft color of life. White clouds swirled, and the blue sea reflected the light. It was different from his homeland. Here, there was a sense of life.

"Entering the atmosphere," Kaito announced into the communicator. "Lin, can you hear me? We'll be able to confirm it soon."

The ship hit the wall of the atmosphere.

The outer hull burned bright red. A roar. Violent vibrations. Kaito's body was slammed against his seat. The instruments screamed, and sparks flew. Even so, he did not let go of the control stick.

"Attitude control is at its limit!"

His vision was filled with flames. The ship became a fireball, falling toward the green land. Below him, a forest spread out. A living, green forest.

"I'm crash-landing—Lin, listen to me. I—"

Impact.

The world turned upside down.

The hull was gouged and shattered, carving a long, long wake as it tore through the earth. Eventually, everything came to a stop.

Silence.

Through his cracked visor, Kaito saw green. Light was streaming in through a gap in the crumpled hull. Warm, golden light.

He placed his trembling hand on the helmet's latch.

The first time, it was a vacuum. He couldn't breathe. He still remembered the hand that had slammed the helmet back on that day.

What about this time?

He might die. That void of space might be waiting here, too.

Even so, he wanted to know. Was his father right? Was there truly breath beyond the sky?

He unlatched it.

He lifted the helmet.

And—he inhaled.

Breath came in.

Cold, damp, grassy, living air. Air without a price tag, unmanaged by anyone, real breath. It filled his lungs completely.

Tears overflowed from Kaito's eyes.

“...It was there.”

Coughing and laughing, he fumbled for the communicator with trembling hands. He pressed the broken switch. Beyond the static, a voice was calling out desperately.

“Kaito! Kaito, answer me, please, answer me—!”

“Rin.”

He pushed out his raspy voice with all his might.

“Can you hear me? —There was breath.”

The other side of the transmission froze. Then, a sobbing sound, as if something were collapsing, could be heard.

"The universe was a vacuum. But beyond it, there is this planet." Kaito reached his hand out beyond the cracked hull. The wind touched his fingertips. "I don't need a mask. Here, everyone can breathe for free. You can laugh to your heart's content."

"Kaito... it's really, truly real, isn't it..."

"I'm sending the coordinates. It's my final job." He traced his trembling fingers over the surviving instruments. "It's the star only my old man noticed. Next time, come with a ship carrying many people. --Stop hanging your head."

Kaito gently picked up the silver empty can that had rolled to his side.

"Your younger brother brought us this far. Just enough for one person. --Your brother's breath was not in vain."

He crawled out of the ship.

The sky he looked up at was blue. Just as his father had said, it was blue as far as the eye could see. A warm breeze caressed his cheeks. In the distant forest, he heard the cry of a bird he had never heard before.

This is nothing more than one man's small step.

However, for someone who will live on this planet in the future--it will surely be a giant leap.

Kaito lay on his back on the green earth and took a deep breath, facing the blue sky.

For the first time in his life, he filled his chest with air that had no price tag.

And then, he laughed.

The transmission cut off there. Kaito, still looking up at the sky, whispered to no one in particular in his heart.

--Sea of Silence. This is Kaito.

--On this planet, you can breathe.

One year later.

At the National Space Center in the gray city, a new ship was being assembled. A ship much larger and much sturdier than the previous one, capable of carrying many people. On the hull, written in gold letters, was the following.

The "Kaito".

The Second Soleil Project. There is only one destination. The coordinates of the green planet that a man sent at the cost of his life. Since the day the transmission cut off, no one knows if he is still alive.

However, the coordinates that arrived were real. A living planet was indeed there.

Rin was sitting in the flight director's seat. There were many young flight controllers in the control room. No one was looking down. Everyone was staring straight ahead at the screen—at the launch pad leading to the sky.

Rin gently touched the small cylinder-shaped charm hanging around her neck.

"Are you listening? Little brother—and Kaito."

Beyond the launch pad, the gray cloud cover began to break. Far, far beyond that.

"This time, I'm going. To that green planet you found. To properly say thank you."

The scene was being broadcast on screens all over the city. Citizens were gathering in every square. One by one, people who had been looking down began to turn their faces toward the sky.

"Count, start."

The engines roared.

The ship became a pillar of light, piercing through the gray sky.

Passing through the blue, passing through the black, toward the green beyond.

In the gap of the broken cloud cover, a small light was fading into the distance.

It was as if it were the first breath this planet had finally regained.

"The End"