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Just outside the Observatory, Haneoka watched Saint Tail soar farther into the starry night, the figure disappearing like a silver streak against the dark sky. She couldn’t shake the words he had called back just before vanishing.
“The children are waiting outside.”
Haneoka tilted her head, brow furrowed. “What did he mean by that?” she murmured, almost to herself, the question hanging in the quiet night.
A few moments later, as she moved toward the front of the Observatory, a sharp knock, knock echoed against the massive pale-blue doors. She paused, eyeing them warily, then pushed the two halves aside with a firm shove.
The doors swung open—and Haneoka’s eyes widened.
A burst of excited noise and movement hit her immediately. A large group of elementary school children had crowded the entrance, shouting and cheering. They waved enthusiastically before charging into the building as a single, unstoppable wave of energy, nearly bowling her over as she pressed herself against the nearest corner for safety.
“What in the world is going on?!” she exclaimed, staggering back as the children disappeared further into the observatory.
Before she could recover, a the next door opened. With the same group of children pouring through, shouting gleefully and helping each other climb the stairs two or three at a time. Haneoka, bewildered, followed them up the towering staircase, hand lightly gripping the railing for balance.
At the top, she found herself in the familiar room with the enormous astronomical telescope. The children, now calm and focused, were busily positioning themselves around it, chattering excitedly as if the entire night had been planned for this single moment.
Haneoka let out a long, almost amused sigh, lowering herself onto the edge of a nearby platform. ‘What has my life come to?’ she thought, glancing at the tiny figures. Earlier that day, she had lost a snowball fight to these very same mischievous kids, barely able to keep up with their chaos—and now here they were, suddenly far friendlier, clustering around the telescope like little stars themselves. Just what was Saint Tail up to this time?
Haneoka settled down on the floor beside the children, taking in the carefully organized group. On the left side of the mini staircase leading up to the main lens of the telescope, the children in light blue, dark blue, and pink sweaters stood, the girl in the pink sweater wearing a matching scarf. On the right side (next to where Haneoka was sitting), a boy in an orange sweater with a green bow and a child in a brown jacket balanced themselves, excitement practically radiating from them.
At the top of the staircase, directly beneath the telescope’s massive lens, a trio of children jostled gently, bubbling with energy: a boy in a dark green sweater with a pale blue scarf, a boy in a red sweater, and a girl in a pink sweater paired with fluffy white earmuffs.
The room buzzed with excitement. Laughter and cheerful chatter filled the observatory as the children eagerly took turns peering through the telescope.
“I see it!” the boy in the dark green sweater exclaimed, his voice brimming with awe as he looked through the main lens.
“The comet!” the boy in the red sweater added, pointing upward.
The girl with the earmuffs gasped. “It really has a tail!”
“Yeah! This is amazing!” another child piped up, clapping their hands in delight.
Soon, the trio traded places with another pair. The girl in the orange sweater and the boy in the brown jacket took their turns under the lens, their faces alight with wonder.
Meanwhile, the first trio moved to sit beside Haneoka, chattering eagerly as they observed the comet from her side.
“I wonder… when we’ll see it again?” the boy in the dark green sweater asked thoughtfully, leaning against the railing.
“In fifty years,” the boy in the red sweater said brightly, as if it were a simple fact of life.
The first boy’s eyes widened in determination. “Then we all have to come back here together to look at it again.”
The red-sweatered boy’s grin widened. “Yeah! Definitely!”
Haneoka sank a little lower to the floor, leaning against the railing and watching the children chatter excitedly. Her mind, however, refused to stay calm.
“I just… don’t get it,” she murmured, half to herself. “Why did Saint Tail—?”
She paused, frowning. Wait. This had to be connected to the comet, right? But… what did the children watching it have to do with him? Why would Saint Tail—of all people—go out of his way to help a bunch of elementary school kids? And why pretend that a comet would supposedly threaten the Earth in the first place?
Her voice rose slightly as her frustration got the better of her. “Hey! What is this all about?” she asked the group, her words cutting through the hum of excited voices.
The boy in the red sweater turned his head toward her, his expression earnest. “Thank you, ma’am,” he said simply.
Haneoka tilted her head, intrigued. “Excuse me?”
“We all prayed to God,” he continued, his tone perfectly serious.
Haneoka blinked. God?
In this strange, wonderful scenario, that “God” could only mean one person: the phantom thief himself—Saint Tail. Even if the children didn’t fully understand what that meant, even if they had no clue who—or what—Saint Tail was, their faith was real and unwavering.
The boy in the red sweater went on, gesturing toward the telescope with a smile. “We asked her to let us see the comet.”
Haneoka’s lips twitched into a genuine smile. ‘Of course they wouldn’t know about Saint Tail, if they thought this God is a she…’
Even if the children didn’t realize that this was actually thanks to Saint Tail’s “divine” intervention, the outcome was the same: he had helped them. He had given them this private, magical experience—a comet sighting they would remember for the rest of their lives.
Who was she to complain? Haneoka thought, letting herself settle further onto the floor. She would rather sit here, in the quiet warmth of the children’s laughter, and simply enjoy the moment.
After all, they weren’t just watching a comet—they were witnessing Saint Tail’s kindness in action. And for once, she didn’t need to solve the mystery, chase the thief, or lecture anyone. She could just… breathe.
Soon, the children stepped away from the telescope’s main lens and gathered around Haneoka, standing close as if she were part of their constellation. Their faces were bright, their smiles genuine and wide, full of the unfiltered joy only children could hold. Together, they shouted into the night sky:
“Thank you, God!”
Haneoka smiled softly, the word echoing in her mind. “God…” she murmured thoughtfully, letting it roll over her tongue. And then her eyes widened.
“Huh?”
Across the dark expanse above, streaks of light began to cross the sky. Shooting stars! The children’s excitement erupted again, louder this time, their laughter and shouting filling the observatory.
“Look! Falling stars!” they cheered.
Haneoka’s laughter joined theirs, and she couldn’t keep the wide, childlike grin from spreading across her face. The magic of the moment—the joy of the children, the soft gleam of the telescope, the falling stars—all of it felt impossibly alive. And she knew, without a doubt, that Saint Tail had some part in this.
The girl with the white earmuffs glanced up at her, eyes sparkling with curiosity. “Did you ask God for something?” she asked cheerily.
Haneoka tore her gaze away from the streaking stars, tilting her head as a contemplative “Hmmm” escaped her. Finally, she gave the girl a friendly, simple, and quiet:
“No.”
The little girl tilted her head. “Why?”
Haneoka looked back up at the sky, the stars reflecting in her wide eyes. The childlike grin remained, but now her gaze was filled with awe, wonder, and a trace of longing. And for the first time, she admitted it—not to anyone else, but to herself.
‘Because my wish…’
A vivid image appeared in her mind: the phantom thief, Saint Tail, cloaked in his deep crimson mantle, the fabric fluttering like fire in the wind. Beneath the cloak, his cider-gold tunic shimmered, layered over the amber-orange dress shirt. Chestnut combat leggings hugged his legs, tucked neatly into his cider-gold high-knee boots. And of course, that signature mischievous smile—the one that could light up the darkest night—graced his face as he floated effortlessly across the sky.
Her lips parted slightly as she let herself imagine him, flying just beyond reach yet somehow impossibly close. And she wistfully concluded, hope threading through her thoughts:
‘…is to meet God, himself.’