What is a good story?

"Sensei, what is a good story?" A boy said, his voice slightly raspy but still young. His voice living between the realm of adulthood and teenhood. 

His eyes were focused, sharp and distinct. Glaring at his teacher with such an intense look in his eyes, you'd believe he was possessed. Pencil held similar to a weapon, a weapon of memory, a weapon of knowledge. 

The older male, also known as "Sensei" or by his proper name: Katsuhiro Kenguchi, looked at the younger male with quite the soft look on his face, a simple movement, adjusting his tie and speaking in a calm and collected tone of voice. 

"Kiba-kun, what makes a good story is consistently subjective. Some are there for the characters, others are there for the world building. While some simply like the author, a good story for me for example would be you submitting your homework on time." 

Short, direct and perhaps even diabolical. His teacher knew how to use his words, much to the displeasure of the now revealed young man, Kiba. 

"But, Sensei! This doesn't make any sense. Sure, everyone has their own requirements for a good story! But, what's the deal with pieces from Shakespeare then?! Did he have all the requirements? How come his pieces never had any bad critics?!" 

Before Katsuhiro could respond, the bell rang, marking the end of class. He placed his book of notes down and smiled at his class. 

"While this was an interesting class, I'm afraid our time is up, I will see you tomorrow. Do not forget to do page 326 exercise 2 to 5."

Kiba picked his stuff up, his eyes smoothly focused on the book he was holding, it was a small story he had written up. It wasn't finished yet. However, it was everything he didn't want. It was messy, disrupted and utterly wrong. 

He kept stepping, saying goodbye to friends and classmates. He kept walking, it started to rain. Great, how utterly great. The rain kept becoming stronger. He began running, clutching his book closer to his chest, head looking down and steps becoming harsher and stronger and wetter. 

He didn't realise it, neither did the man in front of him. Both were running, both were dashing, both were—

—BAM! 

Thud. 

What happened? Kiba suddenly was on the floor, his book away from him. The rain fell onto the two books, both Kiba and the man both rushed to pick their book up. Unknowingly mixing them. After bowing in apology, Kiba and the man continued their mad dash. 

Kiba arrived home, drenched. Wet. Everything felt horrible but, at least he saved what he believed to be his book. His eyes brightening up at the sight of it. He placed it on his night stand, allowing it to bask in the glory of his lamp. 

Kiba took a shower, briefly talked with his mother, went in front of a picture of his father and prayed. 

"Thank you dad, for protecting me. Thank you once again for saving my life that day." 

After his prayer, Kiba stood up and went to sleep, he'd do the homework tomorrow early morning. As he always did. 

Unfortunately for Kiba, there was never going to be a submitted homework. No, in fact. There was never going to be a homework to do anymore. 

That night, the book next to Kiba that had belonged to the old man began to glow, it revolved. It shone, it became... Sentient. It turned to Kiba, the book opened its paged. It began to write on itself. Data, information. Knowledge. It typed—

DATA GAINED: BEGIN SYNC PROCESS. 

SYNC: 0%

SYNC: 50%

SYNC: 99%

WARNING : UNKNOWN VARIABLE FOUND. RE-SYNC, INITIATING STUDY. 

ISSUE SOLVED! 

SYNC: 100%

MASTER : KIBA MATSUKAZE 

AGE: 17

BIRTHDAY: 01/01

CURRENTLY SYNCING WITH RYDMERIA, SYNC COMPLETE. 

A bright light filled the room, it shone across the entirety of the room. Kiba's mother woke up due to the light, but as she entered his room. She wondered why she ever entered this place. 

After all, nobody lived in that room. This place was vacant. Empty. 

Meanwhile, currently floating through the stream of life, karma and rebirth. Kiba finally woke up, surrounded by letters. He tried to scream but he couldn't. He tried to call for his mother. But, nobody answered. 

As Kiba fell, his life flashed. His world spun and spun aggressively. It felt unnatural, it felt random even. His eyes shone brightly, consumed by a greater flame. 

His body then vanished. Completely. Gone. Entirely vaporized into texts. 

As the text that is Kiba's existence began to appear. This text etched itself onto the very same book that brought him onto this world. In the form of a poem, it began to tell the tales of his life. 

 [Why is it that you aren’t whole?

What is it that stops you from breathing?

To live is to exist,

Yet your drive follows the hollow path.

Why is it that you are obsessed?

Memento vivere 

Remember to live.

Memento vivere.] 

This was the poem of his life. The joke of his life. The scent of his life. 

After this event. He heard small sounds, it felt like... Footsteps, tears, someone's tears. As his eyes opened up, he looked up. 

"Ah! Kiba! You're awake! Thank goodness you're awake!" 

His mother said with a happy smile as she hugged her son dearly, which surprised Kiba. He had never seen his mother this affectionate, she then took out what seemed to be a book and began writing something onto it, Kiba suddenly floating. 

It took a few seconds for Kiba to properly comprehend what was happening, his eyes finally widened and his breath started to get faster, his body slowly entering a panic state. 

"Uhm, mom! Mom! I'm floating! What the heck?! Help!" 

His mother only giggled before she kept writing in the book, Kiba began floating around the house, uncontrollably. But, avoiding objects. After a few minutes, a feminine voice could be heard. 

"Hahaha! Ahaha! Holy crap, I can't believe you're still falling for that one Kiba?!" She laughed. 

Kiba, had never heard that voice. And with his mother's soft chuckled and subsequent hand sign, silently telling the owner of said voice to calm down. 

Steps, not loud, not too silent. They aren't too heavy but significantly distinguishable. It's a woman, 18-19, in a good weight range. Finally, the culprit of this farce revealed itself. 

"I mean come on, little bro. You have to try a little harder to not get pranked by me." The woman said with a slight smirk. 

Kiba's eyes widened, his mouth opened in shock. Who, no. Who the hell was that?! It finally hit him. He wasn't home, no he was home. Just not his home. 

He was somewhere in a world, unknown to him. A realm where magic is normal, a world where one's destiny is decided by their writing skills. 

Nuvo Novelistang, the city of paper and ink. 

"W-Who are you?!" Kiba exclaimed in shock. The female voice looked in shock at his mediocre confusion. 

"Huh, that's a bad joke little bro. It's me, Mirei. Your big sister stupid."

Prologue End.