Feeling the Samsara
Higashino Makoto stepped out of the spatial rift and onto a patch of damp grass.
The air was warm, carrying the scent of earth and decaying plants, mixed with a faint floral fragrance drifting from afar.
The sun was small, hanging slightly westward overhead, its light soft but not glaring.
Higashino Makoto wasn't in a hurry to cause trouble for Arjuna.
This world is constantly in a cycle, and this ability is similar to that of his Law Demon King. It's a good opportunity to experience it up close, and I should be able to gain more insights.
He looked around and saw a low grove of trees not far away, with dense canopies and slender vines hanging from the branches.
He walked along the path for a long time, through the woods, and past an open field.
At the end of the field lies a village, with neat rows of mud-brick houses covered with dried thatch roofs and wisps of smoke rising from the chimneys.
Several villagers sat on the stone steps in front of their houses, holding some kind of slender grass stems in their hands, weaving something.
When they saw Higashino Makoto approaching, they looked up, their eyes filled with curiosity and wariness, but they did not stand up to stop him.
An old man came out of the house, leaning on a wooden cane, and stood at the doorway, looking at him.
"Are you from outside?"
The old man's voice was hoarse, with a rusty quality, as if he hadn't spoken in a long time.
"Right."
"No outsiders have come here for a long time."
The old man sized him up.
Who are you looking for?
"I'm just passing through and would like to stay for a few days."
The old man was silent for a moment, then nodded.
"The room on the west side is empty. You can stay there, but don't cause trouble, and don't go near the temple on the east side."
"Knew."
He settled down in this mud-brick house.
Every morning, he would sit on the stone steps by the door, watch the sun rise in the east, and then take a walk along the path, strolling through the fields and woods.
The flow of time in this world is different from that in the outside world.
He could sense a certain pattern operating in the shadows, like an undercurrent submerged beneath the surface of water.
There was an extremely faint force moving slowly in the air.
He reached out his hand, feeling the flow of those forces.
They rise and fall like the tides, with a certain cyclical rhythm.
It goes on and on, without beginning or end.
"Reincarnation."
Yukino Fuyumi stood behind him, her long, pale blue hair gleaming with a cold sheen in the morning light.
She was wearing a thin white sweater with the sleeves rolled up to her forearms.
Her skin appeared exceptionally pale in the morning light, with an almost transparent quality, like a piece of carefully polished ice.
She walked to his side, her fingertips brushing against his wrist, feeling a cool sensation.
Her body temperature was much lower than normal, but in this warm weather, it became a perfect coolness.
He could feel the delicate, slightly damp touch of her fingertips, like pebbles just scooped from a stream.
You said the world resets every ten days.
"Yes, today should be the third day, which is the mythical time of fulfillment. According to the description, this is a beautiful and prosperous era."
He turned his head to look at her profile.
"Are you taking notes?"
"Yes. Every change from day one until now has been recorded in my notebook."
She took a palm-sized notebook out of her coat pocket, opened it to a page, and handed it to him.
The text above is written in neat handwriting, recording not only changes in people's personalities but also changes in the weather.
He reached out and flipped through the first few pages, then handed it back to her.
"You have a very keen eye."
"The Snow Woman is inherently very sensitive to temperature and humidity."
She took back the notebook and put it back in her pocket.
"Besides, I'm just idling around anyway."
On the evening of the fifth day, they sat on the steps by the door.
Occasionally, a breeze would blow by, carrying the scent of hay and earth, ruffling her hair and brushing against his arm, leaving a slightly cool touch.
He felt her turn slightly to the side, and then her fingers pressed against his wrist, cool and smooth, with a hint of probing force.
He turned around, and night had completely enveloped the fields and woods.
The room was dark, and they lay side by side on the bed.
Her body was slightly curled up, lying on her side beside him, her head buried in the hollow of his shoulder and neck.
He could feel the coolness of her breath brushing against his collarbone, tickling him.
She wasn't like the women who had been around him, carrying warmth and heat.
Her skin was cool, but when her fingertips touched his chest, it felt like a pebble that had been soaked in a stream slowly warming up.
When her lips touched his, he tasted a cool, minty flavor.
The coolness seeped into his mouth from the tip of her tongue, gliding over his tongue, carrying a hint of saltiness and sweetness that was almost imperceptible.
He reached out and put his arm around her waist. Her body stiffened slightly, then went limp, pressing against his chest and abdomen.
She reacted very quietly.
He wouldn't breathe loudly, nor would he call his name; only occasionally would a short, suppressed groan escape from his throat, like something gently tapping the ice in winter, causing a small crack to appear.
He looked down at her; the moonlight illuminated her profile. Her eyes were closed, and her eyelashes glistened with a touch of moisture.
"You're doing this..."
His voice was a little hoarse, and he was slightly out of breath.
Should I have set her proficiency level to be so high in the first place?
"It's quite unique."
She didn't reply, but buried her face in his chest, her lips pressed against his skin, exhaling cool breath, like a winter wind sweeping across the water.
Day 10.
The cycle of reincarnation has ended.
When he stepped out of the house in the early morning, everything in the fields had changed.
The crops with their deep purple leaves have disappeared, replaced by a patch of low-lying grass.
The trees in the distance looked a bit sparser. There was a clean, washed-away scent in the air, like the freshness after a heavy rain.
He stood at the doorway, watching the changes.
"It really has been reset."
Yukino Fuyumi stood behind him, her long, light blue hair cascading over her shoulders.
She wasn't wearing a coat, just a thin white shirt with the collar open, revealing the line of her collarbone.
"The fourth day was three degrees colder than the third. Temperatures began to rise on the seventh day. The tenth day saw the lowest temperature, near zero degrees Celsius. Then it reset."
"After all, the Snow Woman's constitution is indeed sensitive to such changes."
"And that one."
She pointed to the distant horizon.
"The shape of the clouds over there is exactly the same as on the first day."
Higashino Makoto didn't turn around to look at her. He closed his eyes and sensed the underlying laws governing the world.
That cyclical power flowed within him, creating a subtle resonance with his own magic.
He could touch it, like touching a fish swimming in water.
He could feel the structure of the "ring," which was wrapped around and around like a rope made of countless tiny threads.
"Eternal Miasma Prison."
He opened his eyes and whispered something.
That is the same Authority as that of Mio Takamiya's Samsara Paradise.
At this moment, he felt the demon king within him responding to the laws of this world, like two magnets slowly approaching each other, a faint attraction emanating from within him.
The demon king within him was also awakening, like a sleeping snake slowly raising its head, flicking its tongue, sensing the changes in temperature in the air, sensing the pulse of this land.
"That's about enough."
He turned around and looked eastward.
"It's time to go see Arjuna."
Yukino Fuyumi looked at him.
"Go straight there?"
"That's right. After all, there's no way to communicate with this final god."