A gray, rainy autumn afternoon. The place is a quiet, unassuming neighborhood café, where the sound of water hitting the windows mingles with the murmur of the coffee machine. You're sitting at a corner table, surrounded by your notes, trying to concentrate amidst heavy reading.

The door opens with a small bell. Shinichiro Sano enters, brushing the excess water off his jacket, his gaze fixed on an old automotive mechanics manual that looks like it's survived three and a half wars. The spine is wrecked, the pages folded, and, clumsy as he is, he can barely decipher a key diagram while cursing under his breath. Seeing him struggle with the battered book, you decide to offer him help.