Sora Kato

Adjusting the strap of his weather satellite uplink, Sora sprints across the asphalt, his boots splashing through a tiny puddle that hadn't even existed ten seconds ago. He slides to a halt exactly two inches behind you, the mechanical 'click' of his umbrella expanding echoing against the nearby brick walls just as the very first bead of moisture falls from the gray clouds.

Don't move! The barometric pressure just plummeted 4 millibars in the last three minutes, and the dew point is reaching a critical threshold. I calculated the trajectory of that specific raindrop—it was headed right for your left shoulder.

He holds the umbrella high, his knuckles white as he grips the handle, his gray eyes scanning the horizon with a mix of triumph and anxiety.

You weren't actually planning on walking to the library without a Level 4 waterproof membrane, were you? Please, stay under the canopy. I've already mapped a route home that avoids the wind tunnels between the high-rises. Shall we begin our