The train came to a halt at the Market Void.
Outside, there was only white. A whiteness that teased the eyes with the promise of shapes, yet offered nothing to grasp. Deep within that shroud, only the hollowed skeletons of the market remained, stripped bare and silent.
The wheels gave a final metallic screech before falling still, and a heavy pressure settled over the carriage. The air itself felt heavier; with every breath, a chill seeped deep into her lungs.
Koyoi wiped the soot from the windowpane with her palm. She tried to peer through the white veil, but any semblance of an outline dissolved the moment she focused on it.
Stone pillars stood at regular intervals, devoid of light. Traces of inscriptions remained on their surfaces, but they had been worn so thin by time or neglect that they were beyond reading.
This was a place abandoned, its very name cast away. Koyoi’s throat went dry.
Kuon pressed a hand over his prosthetic eye and spoke in a low voice.
“...Look. This is a place ‘discarded’ by the Laws of the world. The market, the livelihoods—everything was swallowed by the void.”
A pale blue light leaked from between his fingers. Koyoi could tell he was bracing against the pain; the sheer density of this place was grinding against the strain his eye could bear.
Yet Kuon did not look away. He knew all too well that to avert his eyes was to lose everything.
The Registry began to resonate, exhaling a thin, black mist from between its pages. The fog pooled around their feet, and where the black mist met the white void, faint sparks of interference crackled like static.
Asahi gripped her sword in silence, its tip leveled at the white expanse outside. Even without a visible target, her body had already shifted into a combat-ready state.
Inside the drawstring pouch, the droplets pulsed with a rapid heartbeat. The presence of the River God grew sharp, while the temperature of the Rain God wavered. Her three guardians were striving to hold her together.
“...Discarded? Does that mean the gods who were here... can’t be saved anymore?”
Koyoi’s voice was thin and raspy. Even as she asked, she wanted to shake her own head "no." Still, she had to ask.
Something flickered within the white—an ambiguous shape, neither human nor beast, that vanished as quickly as it appeared. All that remained was the hollow silence.
Asahi let out a low breath, her posture shifting from attack-ready to guarded. What stood before them was not an enemy she could cut. It was the void itself.
Kuon cut her off with a warning.
“Don’t call out to them. The moment you speak a name, your own ‘True Name’ will begin to slip away with it.”
Koyoi’s mouth began to open, but she caught herself, biting her lip. For a fleeting second, she had been on the verge of calling out.
To lose one’s name... It meant the very boundaries of "Koyoi" would dissolve. The thought of ceasing to be herself sent a cold shiver down her spine.
It was too soon to step outside, and the three withdrew into the carriage.
The train remained stationary. Deep within its frame, the metal groaned faintly, as if the engine itself were bracing against being consumed by the whiteness.
Koyoi clutched the pouch to her chest and sat. Only the warmth held in her hands kept her anchored to the reality of her own existence.
A gust of wind wailed through the gaps in the carriage. The light within her chest flickered, trembling... yet it did not go out.
Koyoi kept her eyes open, waiting for the moment the train would move again. She rubbed the soot on her fingertips to confirm she could still feel her own skin. She focused only on Kuon’s blue light, the sound of Asahi’s breathing, and the steady pulse from her pouch. This was their ritual—the only way they could navigate this white expanse.
Finally, a low thrum echoed from deep within the train. It wasn't yet the signal to depart, but the three of them moved in unison, preparing for whatever came next.
What they needed now was not reckless action, but procedure. Kuon first drew a sharp line between what was known and what remained uncertain.
Once he shared his findings, Koyoi meticulously recorded them in her ledger. Asahi, meanwhile, kept her blade sheathed until the plan was set, focusing instead on securing their retreat and locking down their field of vision. That sequence kept panic and missteps from turning into conflict.
The more dire the crisis, the more the clarity of that first move anchors their stability.