To describe him with words would be an atrocity. Between the snow and the cloudy sky, among the dots of humanity in his vision, it was he who was most endless. His eyes. His eyes were a hazel colour, subtly shifting from green to light brown to gold. Beautiful? Stunning? Were there words to describe such a pair of wonderous colours? Every aspect of him was flawless in a way that it shouldn't have been. His wavy jet black hair glimmering in the dark meager world and his eyes that lit the world up.

"Paul? Is that your name? I'm Kazi. Are you afraid of trains maybe?"

Looking up at him was mesmerizing. His smile was so warm it melted the chill running down his back. A dimple on his right cheek. A slight tilt of his head, innocent and beaming.

Paul answered before he could stop himself, "I-I've never been on one…"

"Ah, understandable! Don't be scared. It's a steam engine train. I think the model is post 1928 judging by the classification, so we should be fine. No explosions or huge bumps."

He put a hand on his shoulder and gently walked him forward. He didn't stop talking though and that—to Paul's confusion—actually helped with simmering down the nerves in his stomach.

"Did you know in Bangladesh we have a train that's sort of like a Japanese bullet train? And if Bangladesh can do it, anyone can build a half-decent train, trust me." Stepping onto the train, a waft of smoke entered his systems. This time, he didn't break. Paul breathed.

To the right, there was a door with a circular window labelled as the kitchen. Through it, he saw a dining cart and what was…another tanuki?

Was he going high? Or was this the theme of the gate?

To the left was the section for the passengers. Padded orange seats and tables in between. The smell of smoke and steam was present but not overwhelming. The walls were made of warm wood and the windows were large, allowing the passengers to view the scenery outside.

Kazi kept moving forward, despite there being plenty of open spaces. "My friends said they'd find the best seats."

One, two, three, four; they went through four compartments before finding his supposed friends. A tall, short-haired Asian woman and a tall blond man. Kazi was tall too. What was up with that, he asked in his head. Kazi promptly slid next to the blond and out of obligation Paul sat next to the woman named Yoon-Sun-young. She pretended not to notice him.

"William," Kazi began, gesticulating, "aren't we a little too far from the kitchen? The cart might empty itself before we get anything."

"Oh, uh, that's a good point. But!" William pointed at the window. "The window is open!"

Paul silently agreed. The amount of smoke at the front was barbaric.

"Also, why blame me? I mean, Sun-young could have made us go here."

Kazi crossed his arms and joked, "She's from Seoul, she loves pollution. Right?"

"Mhm, gasoline is delicious," Sun-young replied. "The worse the air quality, the better."

To focus on the conversation was impossible for Paul. Why? Because of what hovered over their heads.

'The levels too…! Holy shit, Yoon Sun-young is level 26! William—level 23! They're all strong! Maybe even…no, no, that's impossible.' He turned to peak at Kazi's level. In its place was a curious unknown symbol. 'What…? He a-and she…what are these guys!?'

"Need a drink?" In the blink of an eye, Kazi handed him a soda. Paul didn't hesitate to take it, even though he should have. Kazi flashed him a grin. "We have some other friends that'll join us soon. Ah, there! Hey, John!"

"Ah, Kazi. Yes. I wondered where you lot were."

John Smith, unknown level. He was an older gentleman dressed in what Paul assumed was a classic British style. Orange moleskin trousers worn with richly patterned vests and an expensive sheathed sword at his waist. He smiled down at Paul and next to him, greeting Sun-young with a small wave of his gloved hand.

"Ms. Sun-young, good to see you." John Smith then waved at William, and glanced at Paul. "And you are…?"

"Paul," Kazi quipped. "We just met him."

"I see. The train is about to start. Let us get along, hm?"

John Smith held out a hand. Paul tentatively took it.

"Any guesses as to what we're doing?" William asked. "I'm thinking we'll kill that rat."

"It's a raccoon," Sun-young corrected.

Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

"Is it though?"

"Definitely a tanuki. We're in Japan, obviously, but more importantly tanukis are very common in Japanese folk tales regarding ghost trains."

"G-ghosts!?" William jerked back, elbow hitting the window. "Are you kidding me!? Why ghosts!?"

"Not that type of ghost. It's like an apparition. It kinda exists, kind doesn't."

"Like Kisaragi Station?" John suggested.

"Woah, that's a rare urban legend! Sort-of but not really. More like Lincoln's Funeral Train. Have you ever heard of that?"

John's eye twinkled in sudden animation. "Yes! The Lincoln Funeral Train! I remember an uncle would constantly preach it to the children at the playground. None of us believed it but it was always fun to hear about it."

Filled with anxiety, William shook his head and asked, "Okay, so to just confirm, no ghosts?"

"No ghosts, but maybe ghost tanukis," Kazi replied.

"I think that's better. I think."

"So what are the stories exactly? I don't read much on Japanese literature," John said.

"Tanuki gets run over, dies, and comes back to haunt it. It's mostly humorous compared to most myths. Conductors will stop when they hear phantom trains. They might see a flashing red light. Nothing serious."

A silence swept over them. Paul's curiosity couldn't last much longer so he popped the question everyone was dying to ask.

"So why is a tanuki our conductor?"

Kazi shrugged. "A spin on the folktale? No clue!" He did take a second to think. "Open map. Oh, so I was right! You can see the layout of the train! Nice!"

Everybody else followed suite at his discovery. 'Open map,' and a layout of the train appeared onto the screen.

There were a total of twenty compartments. The very front was the conductor's, followed by the kitchen, the four high-class compartments, the dining compartment, the three middle-class compartments, and the two storage compartments.

"I saw the dining compartment," said John. "Plenty of alcohol for those that are interested."

Kazi stared at him suspiciously. "Served by tanukis?"

His wrinkled face broke into a cheeky smile. "Haha, I meant to keep it a surprise, but yes, a tanuki is serving as the bartender."

Paul was torn from enjoying this level or downright being weirded out. Seriously, tanukis serving alcohol?

"Isn't there a health risk?" Paul asked without thinking.

"Definitely."

"Agreed."

Kazi and John's murmurs of agreement were relieving. Paul didn't think he'd fit with the group. Somehow, he did. Somehow, he was able to crack jokes.

A disgruntling sound swerved their conversation to a halt. Like nails on a chalk wall, everyone except Kazi cringed.

"Helllloooo everyone!" The sound roared into a voice—into the booming amplification of a speaker. "This is your conductor speaking, Danzaburou. I hope aaaallllll are passengers are aboard! We are now starting our ride to Sapporo Station! I repeat: we are now starting our destination!"

A lighter voice entered the fray. "M-my lord, I think it's starting to GO to our destination?"

"Uuhh, mhm, what he said."

Danzaburou and another tanuki named Haruka talked some before realizing the speakers were still on. They promptly shut it down, though not before yelling, "Have a safe ride!"

Mumbling, Paul said, "I hope they don't crash the train."

"We seem to have a lot of capable people here, so I doubt it will come to that." An odd admission from John but very true. Obviously, the players that could cough up three hundred thousand points were no joke.

"So Paul," Kazi began, "how did you get enough points?"

"Huh? Oh, um…"

'Should I lie? I mean, will he notice? I doubt it.'

"I did the Shadow Hall missions a lot." That he did, so not a lie.

"Damn, so you did it over fifty times?" Kazi grinned. "Impressive."

Okay, he did repeat Shadow Hall but not fifty times. Maybe like...twenty. It wasn't an easy objective. He came close to losing his leg at every other attempt.

Also, was it just him, or did Sun-young and William tense up? Weird.

"I do my best," Paul said quietly.

"Tell me more about yourself," Kazi said. "Were you a truck driver?"

'How did he—?'

Paul replied before it got suspicious, "Yeah."

"Have you ever went to Texas? Vermont? Ooh, what about Nebraska?"

Kazi's barrage of questions should have been overwhelming. They should have caused him to curl up and answer his questions in low murmurs. Paul…didn't. He rubbed the back of his neck and replied in full conscience. It was as if his lips were moving for him.

All of his life he had been a loser. He looked in his own skin and saw a sack of bones, pimples that wouldn't go away, and strength with no purpose other than to turn a wheel. Yet this man looked at him, took that wheel, and spun it backwards.

At the end of the conversation, Paul's lips were in a strange shape. Going upwards, feeling soft and wide. Most of all, it felt good and when Kazi got up some of that goodness dropped.

"Let me see if there are board games. At the trains I've gone to, the conductors usually have them."

The atmosphere shifted with Kazi. William and Sun-young got along, and John was a familiar face. It was Paul that made things awkward. He was the outlier, the stranger.

"Kazi, am I right?"

William was the one who spoke his name into existence. Even though he hadn't elaborated on anything, Paul understood.

"Mm. Yeah. He's…"

"Something. William put an elbow to the window and looked out. "You know, I wondered how someone like him got killed. To me, he feels almost unkillable."

As pretty as a picture and as kind and welcoming as a character from a story. That was Kazi Hossain, an unbelievable man. Forget unkillable, he almost didn't feel real.

'But he's right. How did someone like him die? It just feels wrong.'

For a beat, nobody spoke. The awkward seeping back in, Paul opened his mouth.

"How did you die?" Paul asked, again without thinking. William looked at him strangely. At this point, Paul thought to just shut up and not talk.

"I died…" William trailed off. "I don't remember it well, but I think I overdosed." A breathe. "I'm bipolar so I take pills all the time, or I used to anyway. Here, I feel…better somehow. I don't need them. I fight and I feel okay, I guess."

He was muttering by the end. Even so, Paul caught the jist of what he was saying. This afterlife world, whether it was its magical properties or the violent circumstances, made him feel better.

William put a hand to his head, as if it suddenly hurt. Before Paul was able to raise his concern, Kazi appeared, his voice a light in the darkness.

"Guess what I got? Shogi!" Kazi shook the box in his hands, grinning. "I've never played chess so you'll have to teach me."

"I know how to play," said Sun-young.

John lifted a hand. "I as well."

Paul thought this gate would be many things. Tough, cold, and harrowing. But...easy-going and fun? He didn't want to admit it. He hated admitting it, because it meant his old life had gone the wrong way and it was all because of him.

But he was glad he came here.