Kuon’s gaze was pinned to the pages of the Catalog. His prosthetic eye pulsed with a rhythmic, pale blue light.
"Look. The coordinates are being 'rewritten' right in front of us. Those Observers in the depths of the Scriptorium... they’re using the Master Catalog to forcibly scrub the data we stole."
Kuon spat the words out with bitter disdain.
"...Rewritten?" Koyoi asked softly. "Then, does the place we’re heading actually exist? Or is it all just a 'lie' now?"
Asahi remained silent, his senses probing the air for any sign of a presence.
"The records can wait," Asahi said, his voice devoid of hesitation. "The true 'Awakening' only happens at the precise moment this storm of information freezes solid."
"These... conduits of rumors," Koyoi murmured. "I still don't know how to put them into words."
The phrase 'Conduits of Rumors' seemed to race ahead of them, the passing scenery struggling to keep pace.
Kuon cut his hand through the air, testing the resistance of the boundary between worlds. The sensation against his fingertips wasn't like paper fiber or stone grit; it felt like the compressed residue of voices.
"I know this atmosphere," Kuon said, dimming the glow of his artificial eye. "It’s the same scent I caught in the subterranean corridors of Hoshifuri-cho. The hearsay is condensing... it’s starting to take on physical density."
A single, thin line traced itself across the Catalog’s page. No one had touched it. It was as if the rumors were drawing their own map.
Koyoi looked down at the manuscript on his lap. The edges of the paper were trembling. The characters weren't blurring; they were physically shifting, trying to migrate toward names written in other codices.
"It feels like... someone knows we're here."
"They don’t 'know' us. The rumors just got here first," Asahi grunted. "Word that we pulled up the Seven Pillars back in Hoshifuri-cho is already trickling through the underground channels. 'The trio who reclaim names'—that's the rumor they've pinned on us."
Kuon flipped a page in the Catalog. The lines were multiplying. One became two, two became five, and five braided together into a single, rushing stream.
"Rumors carry names," Kuon’s voice dropped an octave. "Or more accurately, they carry the 'shadows' of names. Apart from the originals, copies of names that exist only within rumors have begun to circulate."
He traced the flow with a finger.
"That is the 'Conduit.' They flow through the unseen places like subterranean veins—branching, merging, and eventually spilling into the sea. The problem is, those Observers are monitoring every inch of those paths."
Koyoi gripped his drawstring pouch. The droplet inside gave a small, faint pulse.
"If the rumors have already reached them, then the place we’re going—"
"We could be walking into an ambush. But the opposite is also true," Kuon said. "The rumors acting as a vanguard makes it easier for the Name to find us. The Conduit works for both friend and foe. The only question is: who seizes control of the flow first?"
Asahi kept his hand on the hilt of his sword, his feet planted firmly on the train floor. A vibration hummed through the soles of his boots. It wasn't the rhythmic clatter of the tracks; it was a pulse from something flowing deep beneath the earth.
"...The Conduit is close. It’s right under our feet."
"I know."
Kuon snapped the Catalog shut.
"Get the manuscripts out, Koyoi. We’re going to force a resonance with the flow."
Koyoi lifted the seven manuscripts from his lap and lined them up on the floor. The paper shivered. The ink didn't glow; instead, the white space around the characters grew darker, making the names appear to float on the surface.
Beneath the floorboards, as if seen through a transparent layer, a single streak of gold flowed toward the front of the train.
"That gold... is it a Name?"
"A Name in flux," Kuon said, narrowing his blue eye. "It’s fleeing through the Conduit, trying to find a destination, but it has no vessel to hold it."
The blue light from his eye pierced the floor, illuminating the golden vein. For a moment, the streak swelled, reacting to the characters on the manuscripts.
Koyoi picked up one of the pages and brought it close to the floor. The golden streak veered toward the paper. But just before it could touch, the streak shattered—scattering into fine particles and vanishing into the cracks of the floorboards.
"It didn't reach."
"No," Kuon shook his head. "It reached. There’s a trace left on the manuscript. A fragment of the Name. If a fragment is here, it means the true body is still alive somewhere further down the Conduit."
Asahi looked out the window. Through the fog, silver lights were racing along the ground. Several streaks were flowing in parallel with the train, like ghosts keeping pace.
"The rumors and the names are using the same road. If we follow the rumors, we find the Name."
"Exactly. But the Observers are thinking the same thing."
Kuon clutched the Catalog to his chest once more.
"Whether we ride the flow or avoid it... we won't decide that here. We wait until we reach Yoinami Beach."
The train began to decelerate. The sound of the wheels changed as the quality of the tracks shifted. Here, the subterranean Conduit of rumors ran closer to the surface.
Koyoi gathered the manuscripts and held them to his chest. The paper felt warm. The pages that had been cold only moments ago now carried a faint, lingering heat from the golden fragment they had touched.
Outside the window, the Conduit of rumors branched. One path followed the train, while the other veered off toward the shore.
At the point of divergence, there was no light. Only the density of the air changed.