Honkai Diary: Start With Picking Up A White-Haired Treasure

Coldness and hunger were Zeke's immediate sensations.

Clad in thin, tattered clothes and wrapped in a dirty, ragged cloth, unkempt and grimy, he huddled inside a tiny bridge alcove offering no protection from wind or snow. Outside lay a desolate, simple European-style town.

Yet, Zeke distinctly remembered being just another ordinary worker living in a peaceful world not long ago.

In the blink of an eye, everything changed. A once robust young man suddenly found himself transformed into a small vagrant child, barely over ten years old.

"Is this a dream? Dreams can't feel so vividly real, can they?"

"Or is this reincarnation? But what a miserable start! I didn't do anything exceptionally evil, did I?"

"No, can't fall asleep here. With this frail body, I might not wake up."

The situation was absurd, but Zeke needed to stay alert and rational. Regardless of what happened to him or who caused it, he wasn't ready to die; survival had to be his top priority.

There was no food within the small bridge shelter, and outside lay only ice and snow.

Huddling inside would only worsen his condition. Stepping out increased the risk of freezing to death, but at least there was a chance—perhaps he could find some sustenance to keep going.

Zeke decided to venture forth, seeking any opportunity for survival.

With worn-out shoes that barely covered his toes, the moment his feet touched the icy ground, a bone-chilling cold pierced through him.

"Hissss..."

Zeke couldn't help but gasp sharply, yet resolutely continued walking. Time was precious; hesitation would only decrease his chances of survival.

Soon, with great effort, he reached one of the town's streets.

Pedestrians were scarce, most bundled in thick clothing, hurrying past briskly.

Occasionally, someone glanced at Zeke, their gazes filled with either pity or disgust before they silently quickened their steps away.

It seemed that everyone's life was tough, with no one having the leisure to care for Zeke, a small beggar.

Should he steal or rob then?

Facing survival, crossing such moral boundaries didn't seem as daunting.

However, his young body and weak strength limited these quick methods of obtaining food.

"Whew~"

A cold wind mixed with flying snow swept past, forcing Zeke to tighten the dirty cloth around him, but it barely provided any protection against the chill.

Apparently, begging remained his only viable option.

Zeke shivered uncontrollably, even his teeth chattering, yet mentally, he shook his head.

It wasn't about pride; when survival is at stake, dignity takes a backseat. The main issue was that given this harsh environment, even begging held little promise.

Gritting his teeth, Zeke continued walking while desperately searching and pondering ways to alleviate his hunger—if all else failed, begging would be his last resort.

"Swoosh! Swoosh! Swoosh!"

Suddenly, a sound distinct from other pedestrians caught his attention nearby.

Zeke focused his gaze and saw a middle-aged man pushing a bicycle. Observing the man, Zeke noted his hunched posture, a demeanor of fatigue and impatience—a typical individual worn down by life. But what truly grabbed his attention was the corner of black bread peeking out from the brown paper bag clutched tightly in the man's arms.

As Zeke examined the bicycle... A three-dimensional model formed in his mind, swiftly analyzing forces, transmission systems, structural components, and potential fault causes. This cascade of information crystallized instantly. Then, focusing on the lightly snow-covered ground nearby, his gaze settled on a suitably shaped stone and a sturdy dead branch. In another instant, a comprehensive repair plan took shape.

Wait! How could my understanding and analytical abilities become so enhanced?

No time to ponder that now; securing food comes first.

"Sir, please wait!" Zeke decisively called out to stop the man.

The breath-steaming figure paused, glanced at the pitiful-looking Zeke, then looked down at the food in his arms. After hesitating briefly, he shook his head and said:

"I don't have any extra food. You should try asking someone else."

It wasn't heartlessness but sheer poverty. He was so impoverished that every penny had to be devoted solely to sustaining himself and his family. Offering sympathy now would lead to problems for his household later.

"I can fix your bike!" Zeke tried to sound more confident and composed, hoping to increase his persuasiveness, but his voice trembled despite his efforts.

"Don't joke..."

"My father used to do this job! I grew up watching him repair bikes and often helped him; I understand how it works! I can fix it!"

"This..."

"Twenty minutes—no, ten minutes will suffice! Give me just ten minutes, and I'll fix your bike! As payment, I only ask for three slices of black bread! It's merely ten minutes; if I fail, you lose nothing. But if I succeed, for the insignificant cost of three slices of black bread, you can return home faster to stay warm, won't be delayed tomorrow morning, and even save on repair expenses. You must understand, this is a truly advantageous deal."

Zeke poured all his energy into delivering this smooth plea, exhausting the strength he had been gathering for some time. With hopeful anticipation, he tried to widen his eyes as much as possible, gazing at the man before him.

Despite seeing Zeke's pitiful pleading expression, the stranger still hesitated.

"I'm just a kid. What harm could I possibly cause in front of someone like you, a grown adult? Please, I only want enough food to not starve today. I beg you, give me a chance!" Zeke pleaded once more.

Finally, his words struck a chord with the man.

"Alright, but be careful. If you damage my bicycle, I'll be very upset," the resigned middle-aged man sighed.

While anger was understandable, the worst consequence would simply be walking away. He wouldn't do anything drastic to a poor street child.

"Oh, damn my soft heart!" The middle-aged man fretted, slightly worried that things might worsen further. If the bicycle were completely damaged, where would he find the money to repair it?

Perhaps, should he just give Zeke a few slices of bread instead?

"Alright, don't worry, I'm a professional!" Zeke eagerly responded.

The man hesitated, but Zeke didn't give him much time to decide. Quickly squatting beside the bike, with stones, wooden twigs, and his trembling, frost-bitten hands, he began the repair work.

Holding onto the bicycle, the man watched in bewilderment as Zeke used a small stone to gently pry open the metallic outer casing of the wheel, inserting a wooden twig inside.

After a series of smooth yet utterly incomprehensible maneuvers, akin to casting a magic spell, Zeke stood up and announced with a tone reminiscent of witnessing a miracle: "It's fixed now. You can try it."

Taken aback, the man glanced down, then pedaled cautiously. After testing it briefly, he looked at Zeke incredulously: "That's all it took to fix it?"

"Just like how someone without medical knowledge could inadvertently kill a person while trying to treat a cold, whereas a doctor needs only a few medications and days to suffice. It's the same principle here. An inexperienced person might take half a day to repair it, but for someone knowledgeable, a bit of skill and time is enough. So, sir, may I have some bread now?"

Glancing at the bag in his arms, the man sighed and handed the entire bag to Zeke.

"There are six pieces of bread in this bag, all for you. Once the bicycle is fixed, I can quickly return to buy more. You're really skilled; thank you!"

"It's I who should thank your generosity, faithfulness, and kindness. By saving a frail life, these virtues will undoubtedly be praised by many."

"Ah ha ha, that's too much praise! Regardless, stay strong and keep going. If things get truly desperate... my home is at the third house around the corner over there. For a few loaves of bread, I think I could still spare some. Well then, I must take off now!"

With the chiming sound of the bike bell fading away, the cyclist rode into the distance.

Zeke, holding the bag containing slightly warm bread, picked up one loaf and took a crunchy bite.

Dry, coarse, and bland.

But to someone on the brink of starvation, it tasted incredibly delicious.

Grateful towards the kind-hearted stranger whose name he didn't know, Zeke ate half a loaf before summoning immense self-control to stop. The current body was too weak, and consuming too much at once would strain his digestive system. He needed time to digest and adjust.

"Phew—"

Zeke let out a long breath, tightly sealed the paper bag, and hugged it close, using its residual warmth to comfort himself.

Next, he had to return to the bridge underpass—a far from ideal shelter, but at least it provided protection from the flying snow.