Prologue

Everyone remembers where they were when they heard the Creator’s voice.

Arata was in class.

He’d always lived farther out than most kids. That meant he had to wake with the sun to cycle to school on time, a habit he picked up fast as he preferred that to a beating when he got home.

Minakasa was a sleepy town nestled between golden rice fields and abandoned shrines.

Arata’s route took him past the paddies, where the harvesters always waved from their buzzing skimtractors as he pedaled by. They had done that since he was little.

Those kind men with calloused hands and easy smiles were probably the only ones in town who had to wake up earlier than him.

An orange gleam tinted the road ahead. Dawn refused to die that morning.

Just then, a greenfox darted across Arata’s path, its pointed lime ears catching the light. He slowed, watching it vanish into the field.

His dad used to say greenfoxes were unlucky. But what did he know? He died young.

The ring he used to wear now rested heavy on Arata’s chest, hanging from a chain. He looked down at it and sighed before pedaling on, letting the somber music in his earsets drown out his thoughts.