As they set foot on the street, the land that Riku thought was expansive soon became much larger in its grandeur and opulence.
The streets of cobblestone made a muted thud sound with every step, while the smell of wood, flowers, and spices filled the air, adding to the vibrancy of it all.
The light from the lanterns and buildings filled the air and dazzled Riku's eyes. Voices of laughter and prayer permeated around. Oddly enough, this felt real.
No different from Earth. He saw two kids playing onigokko. A kid with unkempt brown hair was running away with the biggest grin on his face, while being chased by another boy and girl. Riku didn't even realize the smile that was etched across his own visage.
This all reminded him of happier times. Simpler times. Great times.
Renjirō smiled as he looked out over the glowing streets. "This is Kaigenryō," he said at last, his tone almost reverent. "One of the four nations that form the Sastra Palimpsest. It might look otherworldly at first glance, but in truth… it's not so different from Earth. We pray, we bicker, we trade, we celebrate. The cobbled streets you hear underfoot, the fragrance of spiced broths wafting from the food stalls, the artisans carving wood charms by the roadside—this is all just… life. The kind of life we try to protect."
Riku tilted his head back, taking in more of it: paper lanterns strung between clay-tiled rooftops, each glowing like captured stars; temple bells tolling in the distance, rolling with a slow, sonorous dignity; market stalls packed with silk, lacquered masks, and vials of shimmering ink. Everywhere, there was the noise of people. Not the ceaseless drone of cars or the buzz of neon lights he was used to, but laughter, chatter, bargaining cries, the clink of coins.
It was overwhelming yet oddly grounding.
He found himself smiling again, then turned to Renjirō. "Where are you even taking me?"
Renjirō chuckled. "To a shop," he answered simply, though there was a playful glint in his eye. "Kanzawa's Tailoring Hall. Doesn't look like much on the outside, but it's been standing for centuries. Old Kanzawa's family has outfitted everyone from farmers to leaders. If anyone can remedy that torn purple shirt and those stained shorts, it'll be them."
Riku looked down at his clothes. Renjirō was right. They definitely saw better days and while he was happy about getting a new fresh set of clothes, he felt a bit embarrassed for roaming the streets, looking haggard and beaten, despite feeling better than he had in days.
They turned the corner and stopped in front of a building. Riku looked up and saw the bold title of the store in regal font, tinted in a dandelion hue.
"Kanzawa's Tailoring Hall"
"Here we are. Hopefully Mr. Kanzawa is available. He's typically always grumbling about the lack of tea from the store across the street, but hopefully his mood isn't so sour." Renjirō opened the door and motioned Riku to go inside, following him once Riku went in.
The interior smelled faintly of cedarwood and drying herbs, underscored by the sharper tang of freshly dyed fabric. The air carried warmth, not stifling but almost comforting, as though the walls themselves had absorbed decades of chatter, sewing, and laughter.
Bolts of cloth lined the walls like painted rainbows: indigo waves next to fields of scarlet, shimmering silvers cascading beside earthy browns. Each roll had its own luster, some coarse and utilitarian, others smooth as water under lamplight. On one rack, Riku noticed robes embroidered with golden cranes, while another displayed simple work tunics, patched yet sturdy. It was overwhelming, like walking into a forest where every tree bore a different hue.
He trailed his fingers along one fabric that shifted from black to blue depending on the angle. It felt cool, almost alive under his touch.
From the back of the shop came a low muttering, followed by the scrape of a chair. An elderly man shuffled into view, his hair a snowy tangle that refused to be tamed, his thin spectacles sliding down the bridge of his nose. He had a cup in his hand, but judging from the way he grimaced after a sip, it wasn't the tea he wanted.
"Tch. Useless tea merchants. Can't even keep a decent stock of jasmine anymore," the old man grumbled, shaking his head as though the whole world had conspired against him.
Then his gaze lifted, landing on Renjirō. The lines of his face softened—not quite into a smile, but close enough to count. "Well, well. If it isn't the Moonless Court's captain himself. Don't tell me you've come here to lecture me about my taste in tea."
Renjirō chuckled, bowing his head with a hint of respect. "Not today, Mr. Kanzawa I'm here for something else. My young companion here is in dire need of clothing. As you can see, he isn't exactly looking... put together, if you will."
Kanzawa's gaze slid toward Riku. His eyes, sharp despite his age, scanned him up and down with the precision of someone who had spent a lifetime measuring people in more ways than one. Riku felt suddenly self-conscious, tugging at his torn sleeve.
"So, this is the stray everyone's been saying will become a new Mantrik," Kanzawa said at last, his voice carrying a gravelly amusement. "Hmph. At least you brought him here before parading him around the whole city looking like a beggar."
Riku's ears reddened, but the old man's tone wasn't cruel—it was the kind of bluntness only age allowed.
Riku bowed awkwardly. "Uh, nice to meet you, sir. I'm Riku."
Kanzawa gave a curt nod, stroking his beard. "Riku, is it? Well, let's see if we can find something that suits you. Not just anything will do. Clothes say more about a man than his words half the time."
He turned, beckoning them toward the back, where several mannequins stood draped in half-finished outfits, threads still dangling loose. "Come along. Let's dress you like someone who belongs here."
-------
The base options were all intriguing to say the least. Seven different base outfits to choose from, which all made Riku's brain fry even faster than since he woke up here.
Kanzawa motioned toward a row of mannequins dressed in unfinished outfits, each with its own cut and spirit. "Seven bases," he muttered, tapping his cane against the wood. "All of them serviceable. The question is... what speaks to you?"
Riku stepped closer. His eyes roved from one figure to the next, each outfit more elaborate than the last.
The first was a short, sleeveless jacket over a high-belted tunic, meant for speed. Leather padding protected the chest, while loose trousers allowed for movement. Light, agile—like something a runner would wear.
The second, layered robes with wide sleeves, flowing like water, threaded with subtle silver spirals. Elegant, but maybe too delicate for him.
The third was a warrior's set—dark plate over reinforced cloth, less flashy but undeniably sturdy.
That looks heavy as hell. I'd trip over myself just trying to run.
The fourth outfit had a long, sleeveless vest split down the sides, meant to be worn over fitted innerwear. Its deep crimson hue carried a boldness that made Riku hesitate.
Looks cool but feels… loud.
The fifth caught his eye for a moment. A cloak with a hood lined in fur, dramatic but somehow comforting. If only this place had winter.
The sixth was stranger. Robes cut asymmetrically, one side draped longer than the other, fastened with ornate bronze clasps. It radiated authority, though maybe the kind that would draw too much attention.
And then he saw the seventh. An ankle-length tailcoat with a high collar, its lines sharp but not stiff, the kind of outfit that looked equally at home in a crowded street or a battlefield. The material was sturdy, yet supple, with enough flow to let him move, enough weight to remind him he was wearing something real.
Riku paused, fingertips brushing the coat's sleeve. He felt… at ease.
Yeah. This one. I could wear this without looking like I go to a cosplay event.
Renjirō's lips curved faintly. "That one suits you," he said, as though he had known the answer before Riku even chose.
------
By the time Kanzawa was finished fussing with measurements and muttering about proportions—and after Riku had picked the colors he wanted—the outfit felt like it belonged. Not borrowed, but his.
"Ten Ryōban," Kanzawa announced brusquely, holding out a hand.
Riku quirked an eyebrow. Renjirō reached into his pocket and pulled out ten gold-stamped rectangular coins, placing them with a soft clink onto the counter. The old tailor counted them with sharp eyes before giving a grunt of approval.
"Excellent. Now, I'd typically have the order arrive by tomorrow. But since I heard the hearing is tomorrow, I can expedite the process and have it over by tonight." Kanzawa said.
Renjirō nodded. "That's amazing. Thank you so much. You sure it won't be a problem?"
Kanzawa groaned. "Ah, no it won't. However, don't take this as me being all sentimental, Renjirō."
Renjirō chuckled. "I'll do what I can. Thank you."
And with that, Riku and Renjirō walked out of the store, the gentle breeze brushing against their skin. They started their way back to where they came from, and as they did, Riku couldn't help but think about those coins from earlier.
Riku blinked. "Uh, Dr. Tsukimura... What were those coins you used to pay off the outfit earlier?"
"Ryōban," Renjirō explained as they stepped outside. "Think of it as the higher currency here in Kaigenryō. Below that, you have Monmei. One hundred Monmei equals a single Ryōban. Other regions have their own variations, but here, you'll see those two most often."
"So... like banknotes and coins?" Riku asked.
"Not a bad comparison," Renjirō said with a chuckle. "Except these coins don't lose their weight when markets collapse. Metal keeps value here. Always has."
Riku nodded slowly, the explanation slotting into place. He was beginning to see it: this wasn't some fantastical dreamland where people lived off mystical air. They traded, bargained, worked. Just like Earth, but different enough to make him stumble at every turn.
He looked back at Kanzawa's shop, suddenly remembering something. "Wait. He said the outfit will arrive later today. Already?"
Renjirō's expression softened with something close to fondness. "Mr. Kanzawa has a tongue sharp enough to cut steel, but he always honors his word. If he promised today, then today it'll be. That's the kind of man he is. Now come on. Everyone back at the Ecliptic Vault should be expecting us."
The lanterns above swayed in the evening breeze as Riku absorbed the thought. For the first time since he woke in this strange world, he felt… maybe not at home, but like he could find a place here.
-------
They walked back into the Ecliptic Vault, the light and noise from outside dying as the door closed behind them.
Akio peered from the kitchen. "Oh, you guys are back, huh? How'd it go?"
Riku turned to him. "Good, I think. We got what we wanted. Umm... why are you in the kitchen?"
Akio chuckled. "Oh, I'm making dinner for us. It'll be done soon. You're good with sushi, right?"
Just as that was said, Riku's stomach grumbled. He couldn't remember the last time he had a decent meal, much less something like sushi.
"Definitely." Riku said, his voice oozing out the hunger he felt. It almost sounded pitiful.
"Good. I'll be done in a bit. Make yourself comfy." Akio replied.
He and Renjirō sat down, his body gladly accepting the armchair and rejoicing for the coming meal.
"You look a lot better than when I first met you." Renjirō said.
Riku looked at him. "I feel better."
Renjirō grinned. "That's good."
"I wanted to ask. Mr. Kanzawa said something about a hearing tomorrow. What's that about?" Riku asked.
Renjirō leaned back slightly, his eyes not leaving Riku's. "Well, remember how I said the Council is deliberating on wanting to make you a Mantrik due to your contributions to the Silent God incident?"
Riku nodded. If there was one thing he'd never forget, no matter how hard he tried, it would've been that shrine. How could he not remember?
"Well, tomorrow is the hearing between the Five Authorized Concords and the Council. The hearing is something that happens once a month. And tomorrow's will be about you and what they wish for you to do. And... I know I'm requesting you this on short notice, but would you like to come with me, Riku?"
Riku's eyes widened. At first, he thought why Dr. Tsukimura would want him of all people to be there. Sayaka Uro, Akio, or Mei would seem like better people to accompany him. But it made sense when he pondered about it. This hearing was about him. What he did and what he was capable of. They need to see him for their own eyes, whether he wanted them to or not.
"S-Sure. And what exactly will happen there?"
Renjirō looked down, his chin rested on one of his hands. "They'll first review the report I sent to them. Try to understand what happened and your contributions. Akio mentioned to me about you summoning a jester of sorts. Am I correct?"
A voice emerged, filled with giggles and volatility. "Yeah, you'd be correct! So, you aren't the boss of this place? Shame. You've got looks that screams authority, y'know?"
A low, rattling chuckle broke the air before Riku could answer. The temperature seemed to dip as black smoke pooled like ink spilled across the floor, spiraling upward into a shape of a crooked, jester-like silhouette.
Renjirō only blinked. To Riku's surprise, he didn't flinch. His eyes narrowed with sharp curiosity, almost like a physician examining a rare specimen. "So, this is...?"
Riku scratched the back of his neck, sheepishly averting his eyes. "Yeah. This… is Kapaala. The one I summoned back at the shrine."
Renjirō's lips curved slightly, more impressed than alarmed. "Fascinating. To think a novice could bind something like this. If tomorrow's hearing goes as I expect, then one of the first things we'll do is identify what Bhāṇḍa you've awakened. That will tell us far more about your path forward."
Kapaala clicked his tongue in mock disappointment, twirling his cane. "Aw, don't undersell him. He and I make a killer team. My boss here? He's the only one who can stand me! You love it, don't you?"
Riku sighed. "Yeah, well… I think that's enough out of you for now."
The jester tilted his head, exaggeratedly wounded. Then, with a flamboyant bow, his body unraveled into smoke, dispersing with a last echo of bells.
Silence returned.
Renjirō exhaled softly through his nose, the ghost of a smile touching his lips. "Impressive. Not that you summoned him, but that you could dismiss him. Most in your position would be devoured by what they don't understand. You've managed to rein it in—at least for now."
Riku sank deeper into the armchair, half-exhausted from the encounter. "I don't know if I'm in control, exactly. More like he listens when he feels like it."
"That's still more than most would manage," Renjirō replied, tone steady. He folded his hands together, shifting smoothly back to business. "Now, about tomorrow. The Council will review the report I sent and your role in the Silent God's defeat. After that, they'll deliberate. If they recognize your contributions—and I believe they will—you'll be granted the title of Mantrik."
Riku blinked. "Just like that?"
Renjirō's lips quirked. "Not just like that. Once they confirm your qualification, the real noise begins. The Five Authorized Concords will debate which of them takes you in. Expect bickering. Expect politics. Expect offers dressed as favors. It can get… colorful."
Riku frowned. "So they'll be fighting over me?"
Renjirō gave a dry chuckle. "They can fight all they want. What matters is your choice. Don't let them pull you in ten directions—you should stay where you'll thrive, where you'll feel comfortable."
Riku nodded slowly, but deep in his chest, the thought already pulsed clear. It started with meeting Akio Tanaka on a school rooftop. And he already, despite having been pulled into a world he knew nothing about, started to respect the sense of justice and respect he had exuded. A trip to the shrine and he eventually met Mei Hazakura and her fiery willpower. And after meeting Dr. Tsukimura and Sayaka Uro, he had already been embraced by the peculiarities of this world. But the embrace was... accepting. And it was thanks to these four people. Would the other people of this world have been like this?
Before the weight of that thought could sink further, Akio's voice called out from the kitchen. "Dinner's ready!"
The smell of sushi—rice vinegar, fresh fish, nori—rolled over them like a tide. Riku's stomach growled immediately, loud enough to make Mei snicker as she appeared with chopsticks in hand.
Moments later, the five of them gathered around the table. Akio set down the last tray, Mei reached greedily for the first roll, and Sayaka poured tea with quiet efficiency—reluctantly setting aside some sake. Renjirō simply observed, his faint, rare smile watching over them all.
And Riku, caught between laughter and hunger, realized that for the first time since everything began… he felt safe.