[ There's a moment where hope spikes—Rokurou hurries after Nansen to the edge of the platform, delirious enough to imagine that his sword could be right there and just waiting for him ... only to deflate. Nothing.

He sighs in disappointment in tandem while rubbing his forehead. The hell, he's really just going to have to search every nook and cranny for it, huh... that sword is his life. What it means is too heavy to forget, too important to disregard. Without its weight on his back, the past breaks fragments behind his eyelids. Too light, as if he'll be lifted from the earth from those old memories, from that feeling that cursed night—

—focus.

Steeling himself once more, Rokurou glances back and forth along the track and nods at Nansen's explanation. A train station, huh ... he adds the information aniki has so generously imparted to his mental library for future use. All of this is foreign; he's seen places like this before, but they were always ruins and dungeons filled with beasts and daemons. Looking around now, aside from lacking people, there aren't any creatures either.

Really a strange place. ]

There's a fortune-telling sage? [ that, at least, sounds like something that would exist where he's from, ] Where are they? Also here in the "train station"?

[ Man, he got really lucky meeting up with someone who knows so much! And a fellow swordsman, too. ]

Wait. Do we have to pay? I don't have much money.