Through the Stars and Back

by VeryWithdrawn

The multiverse is the theory in which there exist an infinite number of universes. Within these universes exist special beings called "The Travelers," that are given certain tasks by an omnipresent entity. Who they are and what these tasks constitute, perhaps we shall never know? Perhaps… Shuu x OC x Subaru. AU.

1. Chapter 1

Prologue: Another Day at the Office

It was one of those days. The Office was devoid of its usual scurry of employees scuttling about, trying to finish deadlines, paperwork, and the occasional power-point presentation. Instead, they were slouched, apathetic, and lethargic.

Almost as if they were dead.

A medium-sized man in a button up shirt, that had seen better, less-wrinkly days, dragged his scuffed brown loafers across the pale-blue carpet. A cup of coffee from the half-brewed coffee maker was the only thing held strong upon his person, his hand gripping it as if it were his own lifeline.

Yes, it was one of those days.

The man made his way to his cubicle and sat down onto his chair with a loud CREAK. He gingerly took another sip of his coffee, placed it next to his monitor, and resumed typing on a document that was boldly entitled: Traveler's Log.

'Let's see…Name…Occupation…Rank…'

A series of clicking and clacking filled the small cubicle, mixed with small heavily distorted murmurings due to his tongue stuck at the corner of this mouth. From behind his cubicle wall loitered a couple of his co-workers who were in the midst of gossip. About what, he couldn't really care.

'Objective…Regulations…Disciplinary action…'

The aimless chattering stuck beside his workspace like mosquitoes.

"So, Bill, who'd you have to send off this time?"

Aimless chattering.

"Eh. Some kid. She was from the 32nd Realm and had to go to the 66th. A newbie, too."

"What a shame. Wish we could do something, man."

A collective sound of pity. The man in the cubicle really wished they could be more quiet.

'Species…World…Purpose…'

"You know it'd be useless. They're condemned to this life. Anyway, sending them off is the only thing that we can do."

Another sip of cold coffee.

"Being a Traveler must suck."

As the hours on the clock ticked by, the continuous clacking of his keys seemed to have drowned out their incessant babbling. And with the final few touches added onto his work, proofreading, and re-touching, the man in the cubicle hit a single key with his index finger.

"Send."