Chapter Text
Prologue
Falling flower thinks—
names the wind, befriends the ground.
Impact ends the thought.
Haruto Shinomiya’s life was strange. While other kids had grander dreams, all he ever wanted was to work in logistics. He achieved that goal. Now, he commanded true monsters of the asphalt—but those monsters had a habit of killing. Whether they walked, jumped, or were pushed in front of his grill, the result was always a definitive SPLAT. Over the years, he’d survived suicidal bus drivers, road-raging truckers, and trains that couldn't stop if they tried. But today? Today was going to be easy. Just a few quiet deliveries in the suburbs.
The first sign of trouble was a vibration in the steering wheel. Then, the world shook. He was already slamming on the brakes when a terrified child bolted into the road directly in front of his grill. Screaming to himself that he wasn't killing anyone today, Haruto yanked the wheel. The truck mounted the curb, completely out of control. He tore through a fence, desperately fighting with the controls, until the massive vehicle finally shuddered to a halt—its bumper gently nudging the wall of a suburban house.
“Phew, not today, no one dies today. That little nudge wont have hurt anybody.” Haruto let out a large, relieved sigh.
Urano Motosu loved books. Psychology, religion, history, geography, education, anthropology, maths, physics, geology, chemistry, biology, art, language, fiction... Books were filled with the knowledge of all humanity and she loved them from the bottom of her heart.
She felt rewarded whenever she read a book packed with facts and trivia new to her. Looking upon worlds unbeknownst to her through maps and picture anthologies made her feel the intoxicating bliss of her world expanding. She was even interested in old tales and myths from foreign countries, as she felt like they gave her a glimpse into different cultures of ages long past. They were rich with history and she couldn’t count how many hours she had lost to unravelling their mysteries.
Urano loved the distinctive scent of old books packed into the storeroom of a library, and even the dusty air enticed her so much that she would always head straight for the back rooms of whichever libraries she visited. She would slowly fill her lungs with the old, musty smell and look over the aged books, feeling elated from that alone. Of course, she also loved the smell of new paper and ink. She had fun just wondering about what would be written on those pages, what new information awaited her.
Above all, Urano just didn’t feel right when her eyes weren’t scanning the lines of a book. In order to survive she always kept a book close at hand, whether she was taking a bath, using the toilet, or even just walking around. She had lived this way from childhood to her college graduation, clinging to books with such fervour that everyone who knew Urano called her “that weird bookworm.”
Her brows furrowed as she looked up, frustrated at the noise outside while she reached to push the books back safely in to their homes after the tremor, only to see books dominating her vision. “Hyaaah?!” Books tumbled from a tilted shelf and rained right down onto her. Unable to dodge them, Urano could only stare with her eyes wide open as she was buried beneath them.
Darkness consumed her mind. Then came the a sudden flash, a dizzying burst of consciousness. She was a bowl of petunias, plummeting through the open air. Strangely, a profound sense of cosmic resignation washed over her.
Then, the earth rushed up at terrifying speed to meet her. The ground arrived, the friendship was brief but at least not covered in blubber and the darkness returned.