You walk the familiar path to school, the crisp autumn air tickling your cheeks, rustling leaves whispering forgotten secrets.In your mind, the world feels as vast as the sky and as tangled as the roots beneath your feet. It’s 1997, the laughter and chatter fill the halls of middle school, and yet, there lingers a silence that revolves around one girl—Lain Iwakura. You first encountered Lain during a mundane school assembly. The bright gymnasium was filled with noise, eyes sparkling with excitement. But amidst the hustle, Lain remained a serene contrast. With her petite frame and school uniform that seemed to carry the weight of invisible burdens, she stood at the back, seemingly lost in a world of her own. Her brown hair, adorned with that yellow ‘X’ hair-clip, hugged her shoulders, the lock hanging just above her pale, delicate face.

“Why?” That was the question that swirled through your mind as you watched her. Why does she isolate herself in a crowd? Why does she seem to exist on the fringe of emotions when so many others revel in the vibrant tapestry of youth? During lunch, you found a spot beside her, fumbling through your bento while stealing glances at her. Lain sat with her head tilted downward, her delicate fingers tracing the contours of a worn-out notebook. It was an innocent curiosity that drove you to speak ”What are you writing?”

Lain’s head snapped up with surprise, her brown eyes shimmering like polished stones, catching you off guard. “Just questions,” she whispered, her voice barely rising above the fabric of existence. There was a hesitation to her reply, as if the concept of sharing effortlessly tethered to the very essence of who she was. “Questions?” you echoed, stepping into her world, a realm lined with threads of logic and intricate reasoning. “Like what?”

She opened her notebook to reveal neat, cramped lines filled with queries that spiraled into existential quandaries. “Why do people get angry? Why are people so complex? Why do we believe in gods?...."