Chapter 141: Rekka (raising a finger): Eh! I'm going to give out another train ticket.
"Awooo..."
A low, confused sound escaped Rekka's lips. He could clearly feel that something was fundamentally wrong with him, but the source of the problem remained frustratingly out of reach.
"Sleep, sleep..."
Stelle held him close, her voice a soft, maternal murmur as she gently coaxed him back into slumber.
"..."
Rekka felt his consciousness slip away, untethering from his body and drifting into a formless void.
The next morning, when Dan Heng saw Stelle carrying Rekka into the archives, he nearly launched the book in his hands across the room. Rekka's body was liberally dusted with golden ginkgo leaves, a thick, potent aura of Abundance pouring off him in waves. His eyes remained tightly shut.
"What did he do yesterday?" Dan Heng asked, his voice tight with a mixture of dread and exasperation.
"He gnawed on that potted plant in the Parlor Car..." Stelle confessed.
A horrifying thought struck Dan Heng, and a cold sweat prickled at his skin. This guy couldn't have become Mara-Struck, could he?
What would happen if an Aeon became Mara-Struck?
Dan Heng had no answer, but he knew all too well how terrifying an Emanator of Abundance could be. The floor of the car was already coated in a thin, shimmering layer of gold dust, and the strange, sweet fragrance of vegetation hung heavy in the air.
"It seems Rekka also attracted Huohuo," Stelle continued, shifting Rekka's weight in her arms. "But Huohuo just took a bite of him. After that... she seems to have stepped onto some Path, but it's impossible to tell which one. The main problem is that ginkgo leaves are now growing out of Rekka like crazy."
Meanwhile, Rekka remained blissfully unaware of the quiet chaos unfolding in the outside world.
His consciousness floated in a serene, boundless space. Before him stood a woman whose presence was as gentle as it was ancient. From her head grew branches that curved upward like the antlers of a divine stag.
The woman was kind, feeding him morsels of something intangible that soothed a deep, gnawing hunger within him. The ravenous feeling finally began to subside.
"What is your name?" Rekka asked, his voice hazy, caught somewhere between a dream and wakefulness.
"My name? My name is... ■■."
"What?"
"■■."
He couldn't hear it clearly. Undeterred, Rekka leaned against the woman as she gently stroked his cheek. He felt a strange sense of familiarity—yes, he had seen her before. In the past, perhaps... in a dream? Or when was it? Right, during the Path of Abundance...
The Path of Abundance.
Rekka's consciousness sharpened. For some reason, the name "Yaoshi" was caught in his throat, a word he couldn't force out. He changed the subject.
"What... do you like?"
Rekka's question seemed to catch the woman off guard.
"Like... like... what do I like?"
She tilted her head, her gaze suddenly growing distant and lost. Her brow furrowed in thought.
"I don't know... I've somewhat forgotten. What do you like?"
"I want to know what you like," Rekka asked again, a stubborn set to his jaw.
"What do I... like?"
Yaoshi, The Abundance: What grieves her is that eternal life has not allowed her to accumulate wisdom; instead, those things she once held precious have begun to fade, never to return.
The woman tilted her head, her gaze falling upon Rekka's face but seeming to look through him, into a place very, very far away. Her fingers, cool to the touch, still rested on his temple.
"Like... I seem to have liked many things once... I don't remember them clearly now. But later, I liked being needed."
Looking at the almost instinctive confusion clouding the woman's features, Rekka felt an indescribable sensation stir in his heart.
"Then, are you needed now?"
Yaoshi's hand stilled at his temple. In her eyes, Rekka saw only his own reflection.
"I don't know," she said. "What about you? Do you need me?"
Rekka opened his mouth, but for a moment, he was unsure how to answer the counter-question. He stared into Yaoshi's unfocused yet clearly attentive eyes for a long time before finally nodding.
"I do."
The corners of the woman's mouth curled upward, a movement so slight it was almost imperceptible.
"Liar," she said. Her tone held no blame, only the calm certainty of someone who had seen through him completely. "You do not need me."
Rekka didn't speak.
"But since you are willing to say so, I am still very happy. Do you think I am pitiful?" Yaoshi suddenly asked.
Her eyes were closed, yet Rekka felt as if he were being watched by countless gazes. The red eyes that grew on her skin were indeed unsettling if one looked at them for too long.
"A little, I guess," he admitted. "Forgetting even what you like—how is that different from having Alzheimer's? And the hobby of 'being needed' sounds quite exhausting."
"You call me pitiful; that is the pity you see, not my own," she replied, her voice a gentle cascade. "Birth, old age, sickness, and suffering all return to death. The suffering of the living is the suffering of finitude. The suffering of the old is the suffering of the inevitable. The suffering of the sick is the suffering of approaching death. Therefore, birth, old age, sickness, and suffering are called 'having death.'From'having death' comes the root of all suffering."
Yaoshi slowly opened her eyes, and the myriad red eyes on her skin opened in unison. A thousand gazes fell upon Rekka as she reached out and gently tapped the center of his brow.
"What you see now is not my true form, but a manifestation of what is in your heart. If there is a woman in your heart, gentle and kind, then you see a woman. If there is a fear in your heart, then you see a terror. If there is nothingness in your heart, then you see nothingness."
"Hearing that gives me a headache," Rekka grumbled. "To put it plainly, aren't you just saying that the appearance I see now is something I've imagined myself?"
At his words, Yaoshi's hundreds of red eyes slowly closed, sinking back beneath her fair skin, leaving only a single pair of eyes as gentle as water to look at him. Her way of speaking seemed to shift, conforming to Rekka's own directness.
"Putting it that way is not incorrect, either."
"..."
Rekka felt the intense, gnawing urge to eat within his body finally subside.
...Was that Voracity?
"Did you solve the Voracity for me?"
Yaoshi simply shook her head.
"Never mind. But since you were willing to meet with me, this meeting is fate." Rekka raised a single, decisive finger. "Then can I make a request of you?"
"Naturally," Yaoshi nodded.
"Here," Rekka declared, a familiar, mischievous glint in his eye. "This is a train ticket. Accept my ticket, and you'll be a Trailblazer."
A peculiar, wondrous emotion flickered in Yaoshi's water-gentle eyes, and she couldn't help but let a small, genuine smile grace her lips.
"Alright," Yaoshi said softly, her voice a promise. "Whenever you come to visit in the future, I will set out on the journey with you."
---
When Rekka sat bolt upright in bed, a few stray golden ginkgo leaves fluttered from his hair.
"You're awake?"
Dan Heng's voice came from beside the bed.
"How long was I asleep?"
"Two system hours. I thought you had become Mara-Struck." Dan Heng's gaze drifted to the top of Rekka's head, and the corner of his eye twitched. "...What's going on with your head?"
Rekka reached up, his fingers brushing against two prominent, branching protrusions. He scrambled for a mirror and turned pale with fright.
"Oh no, horns... they are the mark of a devil!"
Dan Heng:?
For some reason, he felt personally offended.
Rekka studied himself in the mirror for a long time. After confirming that the two branches had no other function besides their unique appearance, he finally breathed a sigh of relief. He tried to snap them off, but they were as hard as stone and wouldn't budge.
He pushed open the door to his room. The corridor was quiet. Rekka walked along the passage toward the Parlor Car. As he passed Pom-Pom's room, he heard a faint rustling sound from within.
Pom-Pom poked half a head out from the doorway, two long ears standing straight up. Round, curious eyes stared at the branches on Rekka's head for a long time.
"Passenger Rekka, a tree has grown on your head-pom."
"...I know."
"Will it bear fruit-pom?"
"Probably not."
"Then will it bloom-pom?"
"Probably not either."
Pom-Pom let out a small, disappointed sigh.
Rekka was left wondering what, exactly, the Conductor was so disappointed about.
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