Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Dan Heng wondered whether the pounding was coming from his head, or from his cabin door.

Either way, it pulled him from what little sleep he managed to get throughout the long night.

Slowly, he blinked his eyes open, pushing the heavy cloud of drowsiness away from his sleep-addled brain. He briefly considered ignoring the incessant knock, but whoever was making the horrid noise lost their patience altogether.

“Dan Heng! Dan Heng!” March 7th shouted as she pushed her way into his room. “It’s a disaster!” she cried.

Now completely awake from the panic in her voice, Dan Heng leapt from his bed, brandishing his weapon. Did the Antimatter Legion attack the Express?

Before he could inquire what was going on, March waved his weapon away with a worried look.

“No, we can’t kill the pig! It’ll make more of a mess than it already did!”

Pig?

For a moment he thought that he was dreaming–-albeit a very weird and very realistic dream of March shouting at him first thing in the morning. But then again this wasn't the first of such an instance happening; he was the Astral Express's guard, and part of his job description was to be the first responder to any emergency. But then again, March's loose definition of an "emergency" might be different than most.

He didn’t know how long he stood there, processing her words, until March waved her hand in front of his face while whispering a small, “ Hellooooo? ”

“I apologize.” He subconsciously started massaging his temples. “Did you say pig ? In the Express?”

March nodded, completely oblivious to how ridiculous it sounded. 

“Yes! Caelus is trying to catch it with little to no success, and I think Pom-Pom is going to die before he does!”

Dan Heng thought her wording could do well being little less dramatic, but then again, considering how meticulously Pom-Pom cleaned the Express everyday, death from a porcine incident wasn't really out of the realm of possibility.

“Come, quick!” Before he could respond, March grabbed him by the wrist and dragged him away.

Dan Heng was a reserved person by nature (he didn’t speak much and preferred casual indifference when it comes to most things) yet he couldn’t help but mutter a soft expletive under his breath at the scene that greeted him in the parlor car.

In one corner was Himeko, sitting with her legs crossed and her fingers daintily wrapped around a cup as she sipped her morning coffee. It was a usual sight—she was the sort who welcomed the day with a cup of bean water, and she was very passionate in the art of brewing it.

But then a hog ran past her, squealing at the top of its lungs as it dodged the clutches of a very disheveled Caelus.

“Ah!” the Stellaron host groaned in frustration as the evasive hog slipped by him for seemingly the umpteenth time.

Dan Heng watched as they ran in circles, the scene akin to stories he’d only ever read in books or watched in comedic plays.

It wasn’t until March elbowed his rib did he come out of his trance. Who knew witnessing chaos unfold could be so entertaining?

Their gazes met, and he knew her well enough that he could practically hear her thoughts, “I know I messed up, but please help me out this one time!”

And he was certain that she knew him well enough for her to practically read his, “It’s YOUR mess, fix it.”

But then her brows knitted deeper in forlorn hope, and once again he could only sigh in defeat.

Before that, he inquired about the missing crew members.

“Well, Pom-Pom fainted about two minutes after the pig got loose and Himeko said Welt was still in bed. I had to carry Pom-Pom to my room to rest.”

Welt was one of the only three reliable members of the crew—he was a man who carried himself with wisdom and sophistication, both sharpened by years of experience. He was seen with a cane more often than not, yet that never hindered him when it comes to missions—especially when it comes to those inevitable battles.

So hearing that Welt was still abed at this hour raised more than a few questions in Dan Heng’s mind. Somehow Welt was always up before him no matter how early he got up—to the point where he wondered whether the man even slept.

But those questions can be answered later, right now he has to deal with more pressing matters at hand.

With a soft sigh, Dan Heng leaped to swift action. He blocked the hog as it turned a corner by kicking a chair in its path. Startled, the animal squealed as it tried to backtrack—right into Caelus’s arms.

The shrill cries of the panicked animal echoed in the parlor as Caelus wrapped his arms and legs around its torso in a poor attempt to restrain it. It thrashed even more, and Caelus groaned and grunted as he squirmed, trying to dodge as many porcine headbutts as he could.

Before the struggling hog could cause the poor man some serious injuries, Dan Heng struck a pressure point on its neck to put it to sleep. After a final squeal, it eventually stopped struggling and went limp.

A collective sigh broke, followed by the sound of clapping.

“Who knew you have such excellent pig-catching abilities?” March cheered. “I knew our Dan Heng knows it all!”

Dan Heng silently marveled at how carefree she could be.

“Thank you,” Caelus—who flopped to the ground as soon as the hog was unconscious—said with a smile and a thumbs up, right before his hand listlessly fell. There he remained splayed on the ground, looking like starfish.

The man was exhausted, and rightfully so.

With the pig situation more or less handled, he wanted answers.

There could only be two culprits for an incident this ridiculous, and one of them is currently indisposed with a hog napping by his feet.

“Do you mind explaining why there’s an animal in the express?” Dan Heng turned to March.

“It was an accident! Well, more of an incident from a slight miscalculation—“ March paused when he frowned, signaling her to get to the point. “A-anyway, it belongs to one of the researchers—he wanted to show the Express to his beloved pet. We were all on board with it and everything was going well until it got out.”

Dan Heng narrowed his eyes. “And how did it get out?”

March avoided his gaze. “Well, I thought it couldn’t see well inside its cage so…I let it out. But I didn’t expect it to get spooked by Pom-Pom!”

Needless to say Dan Heng was left speechless.

In this universe there are those who are driven by logic and facts, those who are fueled by emotions, and those who are stupid by choice. 

March was a different breed altogether. She was someone who seemingly ran on mayhem; a girl with never ending energy and with just enough impulsivity to make it a dangerous combination—like a walking, talking ticking time bomb.

Dan Heng crossed his arms. “And where’s the absentee pet owner?”

“He ran off to get her favorite snack. He said it always gets her attention.”

As if on cue, a thin man dressed in researcher garb barged into the parlor car, panting, gripping a small bag.

“Pinky!” he exclaimed in horror when he saw the hog lying motionless on the ground.

Pinky?

While March quickly brought the distressed owner up to speed, Himeko finally spoke. “Well done, Dan Heng.” She set her cup down with a soft clink.

Dan Heng nodded in acknowledgement. He couldn’t particularly blame Himeko for not helping resolve the situation herself—the thought of her chasing down an animal nearly twice her size sounded so out of this universe that he couldn’t even begin to imagine it.

“What happened to Welt?”

“Last night, he helped some researchers in the station with a study that involved drinking some sort of concoction. Then, well, let’s just say it didn’t agree with his biology. It’s nothing serious, although I urged him to stay in bed just to be sure.”

“Hm.”

“I suggest keeping this incident a secret from him, although I doubt Pom-Pom will let this slide without a word.” Himeko smiled before addressing everyone in the room. “Now that the matter has been settled, I suggest you all start cleaning.” 

She gestured to the room, putting emphasis on the toppled tables and the chairs strewed about. Not to mention the hoof prints on the floor and, for some reason, on some of the glass windows.

March’s groan was heard loud and clear.

"Himeko," Dan Heng found himself asking, "Do you think our Conductor is capable of murder?"

Prior to Caelus’s recruitment to the crew, Dan Heng spent his days getting swept in March’s flow. She was a little ball of energy—full of boundless curiosity when she initially boarded the Express—and since they were close enough in age, it fell into his lap to keep her leashed.

He was more or less a glorified babysitter, there to keep her from getting distracted during missions or from saying something that would incur the wrath of the worlds they visited. At first, it was the most arduous task.

He already has a past he wished to run away from, an unknown path he wished to forsake, and caring for another living breathing person was simply too much for him to bear.

Yet before he knew it, he thought less about the empty spaces in his memories and more about what sort of trouble March was getting herself into. Her enthusiasm for everything rubbed off on him, and he constantly found himself looking at her instead of behind him.

Her constant chattering chased away the whispers from his nightmares, and her predilection for accidents made him too busy to think about the gaps in his mind. 

Like him, her mind locked away secrets of bygone times. They parallel each other in some way, yet unlike him who couldn’t run faster from his past, she was more than ready to charge headlong to it—whatever it may be.

“I want to know,” she told him when she expressed her worry over her unknown origins. “Who I was, and why I was found in that state.”

At that time, gripped with fresh nightmares, he couldn’t help but ask, “but what if your mind chose to forget because of how painful it was?”

She stayed quiet for some time as she pondered, and he found himself waiting for her answer with bated breath.

In the end, she smiled, albeit a little sadly. “That might be so,” she said. “But how can I find joy in my future without knowing the pain of my past?”

It was the first time ever that Dan Heng wished he could be like someone.

The first time March took a picture of him was during a joint mission. Before they even left the express, she presented her newly acquired gadget with great pride.

“Look what Pom-Pom gave me!” And she promptly snapped a picture of him, catching him by surprise.

Blinking through the partial blindness brought by the sudden flash, her giggling filled his ears.

“Nice one!” She showed him a small square piece of paper—a picture—and there he was, wearing a classic deer-in-headlights expression. “That’s a keeper.” She grinned.

Deadpan, he could only stare at her.

And so she spent the majority of their mission with her face behind a camera, taking pictures of everything she thought interesting—right down to rocks she deemed “pretty.”

They walked from one place to the next as they sought the Stellaron, and all the while she excitedly showed him every picture she took.

“Fragmentum!” she said when they finally spotted the familiar crystal formation. Pulling out her camera yet again, she snapped photos from different angles. She looked over her shoulder to address him, “This is the first clue he found huh—“

Her words were cut off when a flamespawn swopped by, missing her ear by mere inches.

“Get down!” he shouted as he pushed her down by the head and swung his spear, swiftly landing a fatal hit on the monster. It disintegrated with a shrill shriek.

He turned to her with an annoyed frown. “I understand the fascination with your new toy, but don’t forget that we’re still in a dangerous place.”

He expected her usual response of apologetic grins and promises of it “not happening again,” but what greeted him was silence. She remained crouched on the ground with her head bowed low, her hair covering her face.

“March?”

Silence was not in her repertoire, and it worried him more than he realized.

Slowly, she rose back to her full height. In her hands she clutched her beloved camera in a white-knuckled grip; he quickly ascertained the reason for her sudden quiet.

The lens was cracked, to the point where the gadget would be unusable as it currently was.

He didn’t know what to say. Though no tears leaked out of her eyes, her face was painted in regret and agony. She was biting the inside of her trembling lower lip, as if trying to keep herself from breaking down and crying.

It was the first time he saw such an expression on her face, and though he thought he was someone who cared little about others, he found himself scrambling his brain for a way to fix it.

Sadness didn’t look good in March, and he wished to never see it on her ever again.

Before he realized what he was doing, he was patting the top of her head—softly, akin to how he’d seen her petting a small animal.

“Pom-Pom gave it to you, right? I’m sure Pom-Pom knows how to fix it. We’ll have it fixed as soon as we finish our mission.” Though he spoke with confidence, he had no way of knowing the extent of damage to the device, nor if it could ever be fixed. Yet he wanted to comfort her all the same, even though he might as well be giving her false hope.

But it seemed that small bit of hope was all that someone like March needed, and her face lit up and she smiled up at him. 

“You’re right!” she beamed. “Let’s get right to it!”

Her previous worry now seemingly forgotten, March hopped on ahead, focused on the single-minded goal of sealing the Stellaron.

Later, Pom-Pom deemed the camera still usable, yet replacing the lens was beyond Pom-Pom’s ability. It was then that Himeko—who has always been partial to March as the only other girl in the Express—stepped up and volunteered to fix the device.

Astonishingly, March was taking pictures again only after a couple of hours. Himeko had even mentioned something called “scrapbooking,” a way that people chronicle their thoughts and their pictures. March was enamored by the idea, and needless to say Dan Heng was dragged along, citing that it was a way to “discover your creative side.”

He never thought he had one—although he does have some calligraphy skills—but nevertheless he indulged her. She tasked him with cutting pieces of colored paper into different shapes (stars, bows, and the like), and with smearing glue on the back of printed pictures.

“Oh! I almost forgot,” she said midway through sticking a picture of her and Pom-Pom on a page. She grabbed her camera and scooted closer to him, making his brows rise in surprise. He was used to her invading his personal space, yet this time she was close enough that their shoulders touched and he could smell the sweet scent of her shampoo.

She flipped her camera so that the lens pointed towards them and leaned closer to him. She raised two fingers on her free hand beside her cheek. “Come, do a peace sign like this!” she urged.

Caught off guard and a little uncomfortable by her closeness, Dan Heng could only follow her lead. A light flashed and a snap sounded, and soon March beheld the picture with a grin.

“Aww, we look so adorable!” She showed the picture to him—of him with his usual expression (or lack thereof) and her with her signature grin. “And this marks the first of many photos of us.” Then she stuck it right below the picture of her and Pom-Pom, writing “March 7th and Dan Heng ^u^” right beside it in pretty handwriting.

She looked extremely proud of her scrapbook so far.

“Dan Heng,” she said as she flipped to a new blank page. He thought she was going to chastise him again for his less than proficient skills of cutting paper bunnies, but she continued, “Thank you for cheering me up earlier.”

It wasn’t the first time she expressed gratitude towards him—March was, after all, an honest and direct person—yet somehow this one feels different. She couldn’t meet his gaze as she spoke, and a pink slightly deeper than the shade of her hair colored the tip of her ears.

She was embarrassed, and understandingly so. He had seen a vulnerable side to her that he didn’t know even existed and, to some extent, she probably didn’t either.

Under the awkward air that suddenly fell between them, Dan Heng could only grunt in response.

The prospect of getting documented wasn’t particularly something Dan Heng looked forward to. The more March became interested in the art of photography, the more he found himself before the lens of a camera. He positively felt like some sort of specimen under study.

He wasn’t the only person subjected to this treatment; Himeko, Welt, and especially Pom-Pom similarly had just as many photos of them snapped. March was even able to convince Welt to do some battle poses with her—a scene that Dan Heng found most amusing.

Though the crew was very happy that March found something to be passionate about, it was slowly but surely getting out of hand, and soon Himeko had to step up. She softly told the girl to tone it down, hinting that not everyone wished for every second of their daily life to be captured.

Finally realizing what was happening, March swiftly apologized to each member for being too intrusive, and promised to only capture the crew’s most important moments and achievements from then on.

It was something Dan Heng secretly adored her for. Though she was oblivious to moot, March was someone who wasn’t afraid to admit and apologize for her wrongdoings—as long as she was made aware of them.

After her conversation with Himeko, March used her camera on people considerably less, yet it never left her side and she continued scrapbooking, consistently updating it after every mission or every major occasion—including the members’ birthdays.

One night, he found her in the parlor car, bent over her scrapbook.

“It’s late,” he remarked. He had come out of his room to grab a drink.

March jumped at the sound of his voice, then calmed when she caught sight of him. “Mhm, I couldn’t sleep.”

Dan Heng nodded in sympathy. They had just finished a mission earlier today, and the high of the action hasn’t quite worn off yet.

Out of curiosity, he peered over the pictures she was organizing. This time, instead of his or any other crew member’s face, the pictures were of bows, cute clothes, her weapon, and tasty-looking food. The open page of her scrapbook was empty aside from the words “ Things I like ” written at the top.

He sat beside her, picking up a picture of the food they ate earlier this week. “Out of all the hobbies out there, why do you like photography?” he found himself asking.

“Because girls like cute things,” she replied as she took the picture from him and stuck it on the page. “Because it’s fun,” she continued with a smile. “And because I don’t want to forget again.”

Dan Heng was stunned into silence. He was well aware of how elusive and fickle memories could be. It’s sometimes evasive, sifting through the tendrils of one’s mind like fine sand, yet sometimes it’s unyielding like boulders, refusing solace to those who wished to forget.

March was prepared to embrace whatever her future holds, yet she didn’t want to lose who she was once again. She records the stuff she loves, the people she likes, the adventures she’s had, and the sights she’d seen—all the things that “March” consists of.

Almost tenderly, she ran her fingers on the surface of her camera. “In case I lose my way, or if I forget and get stuck in a crystal again, I’ll have my camera with me,” she continued, “Then I’ll open it and see everyone, and I’ll remember who I was and where I was from. I’ll remember the name I chose.”

There was no certainty of such an instance, yet she spoke with such confidence that Dan Heng couldn’t help but be moved by her words. If anything, March would conquer another bout of amnesia through sheer tenacity alone. The hope she always carried was contagious, and it was one of the reasons she could worm her way into anyone’s heart.

“I won’t let you.”

She cocked an eyebrow at him and flashed him a playful smile. “You won’t let me remember?”

Dan Heng shook his head. “I won’t let you forget. I am the Guard of the Express, and you won’t get lost under my watch. If you get stuck, I’ll shatter any crystal you’re in and take you home.”

March was speechless, and she only stared at him with her eyes wide and her mouth slightly agape. But to his utter shock, a tear fell from the corner of her eye, followed by another, then another—until she was sobbing.

Aghast, he hastily apologized for misreading the situation, but she shook her head through tears. “That’s the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me,” came her garbled words.

Worried that the others might wake up, Dan Heng wiped her flowing tears (and mucus) with his sleeve. “Okay.” He couldn’t think of anything to say that would get her to stop crying.

“Our Dan Heng really is the best,” she wailed. Unperturbed, March clutched at his clothes and promptly blew her nose.

Despite the situation, Dan Heng couldn’t stop disgust from crinkling his brow.

As he waited for her to calm down, he made a silent vow that he'll let her take pictures of and with him anytime she wanted.

Chapter Text

When Caelus first boarded the Express, Dan Heng thought he finally had someone to share babysitting duties with. Similar to him, the Stellaron host was the quiet sort, preferring only to speak when addressed to (and even then sometimes he only stares blankly).

But, to his utter disappointment, Caelus needed constant chaperoning himself—perhaps even more so than March. He was more or less a blank slate—a tabula rasa , so to speak—yet unlike the pink-haired girl who found joy in all things cute, it seems that Caelus found having a comedic timing most amusing—sometimes even to the detriment of his perceived mental capacity.

On their first mission together in Belobog, March had run up to him merely a few minutes after he left them to do some sleuthing on his own.

“Dan Heng! Caelus he–” at loss for words—which was incredulous for someone like her—March could only gesture her hands wildly. “He—“ with a frustrated groan, she instead grabbed his hand and retraced her steps.

Based on her reaction, Dan Heng banked on nothing short of Caelus causing a world-ending cataclysm, so imagine his surprise when he found the young man in a place he never would have expected.

Sitting in a trash can.

“Do I even want to ask?”

Caelus shrugged at his question. “I was curious. There were voices. Also, there was an achievement.”

If he was a lesser man, Dan Heng would have fallen to his knees, his face upturned and his fists shaking angrily at the sky as he shouted why me? 

But such an action was unbecoming of his ancestry, and their unlikely trio could only humiliate themselves so much in such a short amount of time.

In all the worlds he’d visited and the people he’d met, Dan Heng could confidently say that Caelus was unlike anyone he’d ever seen before. He couldn’t comprehend how a person could function out of pure…chaos; How someone could exist without a single shred of societal regard.

Was it perhaps a side effect of the Stellaron inside him, or a mere consequence of his person?

Either way, the man who merely stared at him while wearing a trash can cover as a hat was completely indecipherable to him—even beyond the weird language he so often used.

March was disgusted by his current state, and so it fell upon Dan Heng to drag the man out of his predicament. A bath and a small scolding from him later, Caelus elected to rest for the night.

Before they retreated to their respective rooms, March approached him. “Hey, do you think Caelus is…weird?”

The irony of March—who was quite oblivious to her own uniqueness—asking such a question was not lost to him.

Though Dan Heng was cold and indifferent to most things, he wasn’t one to call out someone’s stupidity (especially one he technically lived with). He chose his words carefully as he replied, “Not everyone thinks like him.”

March exhaled a deep sigh. “I’ll keep an eye on him as well. I don’t want this mission to fail.”

He was a little taken aback. Caelus was such a severe case that even March—the epitome was carefreeness—felt responsible for unleashing such a menace unto this world.

“I’m sure he can handle himself just fine.” 

Caelus certainly proved himself more than capable in combat, and though he possessed more eccentricity than any normal person, perhaps that’s what draws other people towards him. He’s certainly quick and proficient in making new friends.

No, the problem with Caelus isn’t his lack of common sense at all; on the contrary, the puzzles he had solved during their expedition was proof enough that he carried a decent head on his shoulders.

The issue was that he’s stupid by choice . 

If he was given the chance to choose between order and disorder, he would undoubtedly choose the latter—if not for a reasoning as simple as the desire to define said disorder and see what it entails.

That is what makes Caelus a danger to society and to himself.

“Well, he has two super awesome seniors to back him up, I’m sure it’ll be fine!” March beamed, optimism radiating off her in waves.

It was ominous to say the least.

In the end, the mission was a success—although the journey was certainly bumpy. The three of them made a lot of friends, and Dan Heng wished for nothing but the well-being of Belobog when it came for them to inevitably depart that world.

Like March, Caelus has a penchant for taking photos, although he insists his were a result of necessity (whatever that means). Before they left, they took pictures of the unique architecture in Belobog, and they also posed with their newfound friends.

March went on to review her pictures as soon as they reboarded the Express, bee-lining to Pom-Pom to show them all her “awesome shots.” Meanwhile, Caelus and Dan Heng quickly briefed both Himeko and Welt about the mission’s success.

After praises and a promise of a small dinner celebration, Himeko urged them to rest for now. March and Pom-Pom quickly retreated to March’s room, chattering about updating her scrapbook and photo album.

Dan Heng, before Caelus could walk off, asked if they could update the data bank together. Caelus had mentioned seeing Qlipoth during their battle against Cocolia, and Dan Heng preferred to record information while it was still fresh.

As Dan Heng entered Caelus into the data bank, the man set about reviewing the pictures he took to pass the time. He silently scrolled through them for the most part, and a comfortable silence reigned in the small room, broken only by the constant clicking of the keyboard.

“You look a lot at March, huh.”

“Of course,” Dan Heng replied almost instantaneously, not looking up from his task. “Himeko and Welt are counting on me to keep her from getting too bored.” And to keep her in check.

“No, I mean–” His footsteps resounded as he strode towards him. “Look.” He presented several candid shots of him and March on his phone, and sure enough, in these pictures his gaze was, indeed, trained on March more often than not.

Dan Heng had no idea where or when such images were taken. 

Confused, the two of them worded a question at the same time.

“Why are you acting like a stalker?”

“Why are you always looking at her?”

They stared at each other in complete silence, both unable to find a sufficient explanation behind their actions.

Caelus cleared his throat first, “Scrapbooking.”

Dan Heng refused to pursue this line of questioning any further, perturbed by whatever he might discover. When it comes to the intricacies of Caelus’s mind, ignorance is truly bliss.

Yet, even when he indicated his intent to move on from the subject by ignoring it altogether, Caelus was not ready to stop prying.

“Sooo are you two close?” Inexplicably, his tone changed to that of March and Himeko whenever they gossiped.

Dan Heng grunted. “We’re friends.”

Caelus nodded, then went back to his photos, as if seeing something he couldn’t. “Hmm…perhaps…”

Dan Heng’s ears perked up. “What is it?” he asked, now more than a little curious. Perhaps a third perspective could explain something so inexplicable.

A grave expression washed over the Stellaron host’s face. “Do you like being around her?”

He pondered the question seriously. March’s constant chattering was a welcome distraction–it kept him from thinking too deep about things he’d rather not think about. He nodded.

Caelus’s eyes widened. “Do you sometimes find yourself thinking about how she is or what she’s doing when she’s out of your sight?”

More often than not silence and March is a recipe for disaster, so he nodded once again.

Caelus gasped as if he heard something very scandalous. “Is she someone you want to protect?”

Well, that goes without saying. His role as the Express’s Guard entails its protection, along with its guests. “Of course,” he replied.

“Oh my–” Caelus’s eyes were as wide as saucers. “Dan Heng, I think this means…”

He paused for dramatic effect…

Then remained completely silent.

“ What does it mean? ” Dan Heng hissed, feeling heat rise to the back of his neck.

To add to his mounting irritation, Caelus’s reply was an apologetic guffaw. “Well, I’m not entirely sure. I’m too young to understand relationships, haha!”

Dan Heng kicked him out of his room.

“Dan Heng!” March called as she barged into his room—without knocking, of course.

“No.” 

“Aw, come on, at least look up from your book!”

In an act of slight rebellion, Dan Heng lowered his book enough so he could peer at her with one arched eyebrow.

“Wanna hear something awesome?” March continued, ignoring his obvious lack of interest in conversation.

“No,” he replied, promptly raising his book again. “But I think you’re going to tell me anyway.”

Unabashedly, March took a spot on his small cot. She pushed his book down so they could talk face-to-face. “It’ll take some time before the rail gets fixed, which means…free time! Isn’t that exciting?”

Not really. Quite the opposite, in fact. 

Before he became Nameless, Dan Heng was nothing more than a wanderer; a being with no particular goal or destination. He spent the majority of his life on the move—often as a necessity—and as such he wasn’t used to days idly passing by.

He needed the action, and even just the thought of having more time than he knew what to do with, simply put, made him antsy.

March pouted at his reaction (or lack of). “Caelus asked Himeko if we could stop over the Space Station for a quick drop by—something about Herta’s Simulated Universe.”

Great. At least the Space Station never has a shortage of people who needed help with research studies or other odd jobs.

“Understood.” Dan Heng assumed she was just there to deliver him the news, but to his confusion she lingered, her eyes darting around the small room.

“What are you reading?”

Now more than a little suspicious, Dan Heng slowly closed his book and set it beside him. Straightening from his lounged position, he faced the fidgeting girl fully.

“Spit it out, March. What happened this time?”

She frowned, looking offended. “Nothing!” she snapped with a hmph before muttering “ so rude ” under her breath.

Good. It’s at least a comfort knowing that whatever it is does not involve severed limbs, explosions, or chemical leaks.

Which could only mean one thing.

“A favor.”

She nodded with a sigh. “I don’t know if I’m happy or annoyed that you can predict me so well.”

Her words slightly caught him off guard. But after a quick consideration, he realized they were true. He’d spent so long constantly watching and observing her that he’d unknowingly gotten to know her more than anyone in his life.

What does it mean?

He couldn’t help but scowl when he remembered that conversation with Caelus. Infuriating as it was, his words affected him, pushing thoughts in his mind he’d never had before.

“Are you listening?” March’s voice snapped him back to reality.

Dan Heng blinked his eyes back to focus, muttering a quick apology.

“…As I was saying, I think Caelus will be too busy being Herta’s test subject to hang out, and it’ll be boring being alone…”

“So you want to tag along with me.”

“Yep.”

“Sure.”

“Come on, plea—wait, that easy?!” Her head snapped towards him so fast he wouldn’t be surprised if she got whiplash.

Dan Heng shrugged.

She stared at him for a long while, her eyes narrowing with each passing moment until they were slits.

“Who are you and what did you do to Dan Heng?” As if to check whether he was an apparition or not, she poked his rib—hard, making him hiss.

“Ow, stop!” he swatted her hand when she poked him once again, for good measure.

Fixing his disheveled clothes, Dan Heng explained, “It’ll be easier to watch over you.” He sighed. “Pom-Pom and Himeko will have to pay so much for the curio you’ll inevitably break if I leave you alone.”

“Hey!”

Dan Heng was aware that The Nameless had earned quite a reputation in the station after the Antimatter Legion’s attack, but he didn’t expect the number of people that welcomed to be this much.

“Welcome back to Herta Space Station, Trailblazers!” Asta, the station’s Lead Researcher, greeted warmly. Close behind her was the head of the station’s Security Department, Arlan.

Dan Heng addressed him with a nod, and the young man returned the gesture with nary a change in his expression.

Arlan was the kindred spirit he never found in Caelus. He was most similar to Dan Heng in role and temperament, yet whereas Dan Heng found solace in solitude, Arlan has a talent for inspiring others.

Not to mention, Arlan previously spent some one-on-one time with March and survived—both mentally and physically. Suffice it to say, Dan Heng held such people with high regard.

After exchanging greetings and stating the reason for their sudden visit, Asta quickly excused herself, citing an upcoming meeting.

The crew decided to part ways for now to handle their own business; Himeko elected to stay in the Express with Pom-Pom to deal with the rail, while Welt was swiftly swept away by a horde of researchers.

Soon, most of the welcoming crowd dispersed, but a notable group of women lingered around, smiling and blinking at him weirdly.

“Well, look at you, Mr. Popular,” Caelus teased with a nudge.

“Please stop joking.”

March, who was close by, interjected, “What’s the punchline?”

Caelus subtly gestured to the small group.

March’s mouth formed a small o . “It must be tough being a celebrity, huh.” She gave him a patronizing pat on the back. “Although in my humble opinion, someone as cute as me should be more popular, but–” she sighed dramatically, “– alas .”

Ah, who is March without her overconfidence? After such statements, Himeko would say something along the lines of, “You’re very charming indeed.” Which was then quickly followed by a thumbs up to Dan Heng and a secret, conspiratorial wink to Welt.

But, alas, Himeko was not here, and so March’s assertion was immediately ignored.

“Erm, I guess I’m off to the Simulated Universe, then,” with that and a dramatic salute, Caelus walked off.

“Dan Heng, Miss March,” Arlan, who just finished giving instructions to someone, finally approached them.

“Hey, Arlan!” March waved. “How’s your training coming along? Any new trials?”

Arlan coughed to hide his embarrassment, but the slight flush on his cheeks betrayed it anyway. “P-please forget that ever happened, Miss March.”

March chuckled.

“A-anyway, we installed a bunch of new visitor recognition systems for the station.” He handed each of them an ID, the same kind Asta gave to Himeko and Welt before she left. 

“Sweet, thanks!” March slipped hers around her neck, while Dan Heng opted to clip his near his on the right side of his chest.

“Those IDs are new ones, with a few more limitations than the ones we had before.”

Being a member of the Genius Society, Herta prided herself on her skill set deserving of its title. From what he heard from Himeko, Herta was not only an experienced scientist, but also a person with vast technological knowledge.

She was, in more ways than one, responsible for everyone and everything in the station–or at least, she should be. Asta mentioned that Herta had little to no contact with her in the months preceding the attack, and, if Dan Heng guessed, she would’ve continued doing so if not for the incident.

Even so, Herta merely elected to use her puppets for communication, and still left most of the dealings of the aftermath to her employees. Asta didn’t appear surprised nor displeased about it though, so Dan Heng suspected this may have happened numerous times before.

Now, Arlan was the head of the Security Department, and if he was anything like Dan Heng, he surely felt a great deal of responsibility and guilt over what happened. After all, there were countless injuries, and several people nearly lost their lives—including Arlan’s.

Dan Heng wasn’t surprised that several countermeasures were installed, Arlan was undoubtedly putting triple the effort to prevent another invasion from happening.

“Do you need help with security test runs or some patrols?”

Arlan nodded. “Extra patrol is more than welcome, there might still be remnants of the Legion around the station. Thank you, Dan Heng.” Arlan folded his arms in front of him. “But you can’t gain access to higher security areas with only that card—those sections are only accessible with biometric information now. We can enter you into our database, if you don’t mind.”

A biometric scan? Dan Heng paused, his hesitation palpable.

Arlan was quick to realize his uncertainty. “Don’t worry, it’ll only be a quick iris scan for non-staff members. We try not to pry too much on our guests.”

Dan Heng preferred to leave as little information of him lying around as possible; especially in Herta Space Station, a popular stopover for interstellar travelers seeking knowledge and other academic pursuits.

“I’m afraid I have to decline.”

Arlan waved his apology off. “Ah, that’s no problem at all. It’s a shame, but I understand.”

Now opted out of patrol duties, Dan Heng then asked if there were other sections they could provide assistance to.

“Hmm…I’m not privy to matters outside of my department, so you’ll have to ask Lady Asta about that. Any sort of trouble is reported to her, so she knows all the comings and goings in the station.”

“Understood. Thank you, Arlan.”

After briefly excusing himself, Arlan walked off to return to his post.

“Well, I guess that leaves us with some free time while Asta is still in a meeting.”

“Perhaps I’ll organize the archives in the meantime.” Dan Heng turned on his heel…

Only for March to yank him back by the arm. “Whoa, whoa! Where are you going?”

He grunted. “Back to the Express.”

“No, you’re not,” March announced with a scowl. “Let’s stretch our legs for a bit, come join me for a walk.”

It wasn’t even a question, and even while she was speaking she was already pulling him along the platform.

They made small talk as they walked about the station, but otherwise their time together was relatively uneventful. March, however, took a lot of pictures of the stars every time they passed a glass-walled corridor.

“So many…” she absentmindedly murmured as she looked out a window and into the fathomless sea of stars outside. She stepped closer, her hand pressed against the glass wall as she went quiet, entranced.

He could only stare as the sparkling lights reflected in her eyes, capturing them like little fireflies in a colored glass jar.

A small, quick exhale left his lips, and he scowled at  the unfamiliar sensation creeping up his spine and prickling the back of his neck. His fingers curled into claws, as if itching to dig something out; he was uncomfortable, as if his skin wasn’t his own.

“…an Heng.”

What does it mean?

“Dan Heng!”

“Wha–?” Dan Heng blinked his eyes back to focus. 

March was standing before him now, a worried look casting a shadow over her face.

“Are you okay?”

“What do you mean?”

Now concerned, March gestured to his chest.

To his horror, he was desperately clutching the right side of his chest, as if holding on for dear life. He swung his hand back to his side, feeling confused and panicked.

He was unraveling. For some inexplicable reason, he was losing it–and it scared him.

“Oh my god, is it a heart attack? Are you having a heart attack?!” came March’s alarmed screech.

“No—No!” Attempting to regain calm, he sighed. “I’m okay. I—I just need to be alone.”

He couldn’t walk away faster.

“Yo Dan Heng, are you up—“ Caelus’s words came to a swift stop when a raised brow greeted his call. Standing by his open doorway, the tall young man continued in a lower voice, “Himeko was asking if you want anything to eat, she’s about to whip up something.”

This sort of question could be asked through their group chat, but then again, texting was kind of moot when you’re all living under the same roof—well, train.

“I’ll have whatever she cooks.”

“Got it.” Caelus turned and left, and for a very short while Dan Heng’s peace was restored, that was, until the nosy man’s head poked back into his line of sight. “You alright?” He resumed his post by his doorway.

“Yes,” Dan Heng said curtly, “I couldn’t be better.” Please leave me be .

“Oookay. It’s just, you seem—“ Caelus scrunched up his face and gestured his hand about it. “—scowl- ier than usual.”

Dan Heng didn’t know what to say, and so he only grunted. The fact that Caelus was able to pick apart the subtle differences in his expression was confounding, but even more so was the uneasy feeling that had burrowed deep within his chest from today’s excursion. 

He thought himself quite a reasonable man, the sort to adhere to the laws of facts and logic. And so, as a rational, thinking man, Dan Heng’s only explanation behind his recent actions was that March was rubbing off on him.

Simply put, he was going insane.

And so he spent hours upon hours reading books, all in a pathetic attempt to regain whatever it was he might have lost by being around her. Not that it was working, of course. 

His eyes could barely finish one paragraph before his mind wandered back to a sea of stars and molten starlight behind pink-blue colored glass, and so he would restart all over again, only to fall back to the same cycle until he closed the book and tossed it away in frustration.

“I might be sick,” he found himself admitting. In their relatively short time together, he found that Caelus was someone he could confide in. Sure, sometimes the guy may act like a lost toddler, talk like one, eat like one, and perchance even think like one, even so, he was a trusted ally.

A worried look washed over his face. “Should I call Welt? Himeko? Do you need any medicine?”

Dan Heng shook his head. “No. I believe this might be…an illness of the mind.”

“…Do you need someone to talk to?” Caelus stepped further into the Archives, and the door shut behind him with a soft hiss. He opened his arms wide. “A hug?”

Surprised, Dan Heng could only blink, then he cleared his throat. “A…hug is unnecessary. But—do you sometimes feel unexplained strong…urges?”

Caelus’s mouth drew to a line, his expression deadpan. But slowly, like a light bulb flickering to life, understanding dawned on his face; his mouth opened in an aha and he pounded the side of his closed fist on his open palm.

“Isn’t that normal for someone your age?”

No, it most certainly wasn’t. Normal was not a void in his chest, nor was it a feeling of a constant need for air.

He frowned, deeply.

“Dan Heng, have you ever experienced it, or read it in books?”

“Read what?”

“Well,” Caelus trailed off as his eyes wandered over the numerous stacks of books scattered about. “There’s bound to be one around he—Ah! This one.” He picked up a red book Dan Heng couldn’t particularly recall the contents of.

Caelus opened the book to a random page and cleared his throat–in preparation for a very dramatic reading. He drew in a breath.

“ ‘Oh, Joanne,” he uttered her name with reverence, his gentle, loving gaze trained on hers. Laying there with her hair spread upon his pillows and her pale skin bathed in moonlight, she never looked more beautiful; a goddess who has come to bless his blackened soul.

“Sir Tristan.” His name falling from her red lips caused his chest to tighten. Slowly, the arms she had draped over her chest unfolded, beckoning him closer. The gesture was bold and unlike her, yet the pink in her cheeks betrayed her action, the lovely color spreading all the way down to the top of her ample bosom.

With a tortured groan, he lowered himself to her, pressing their bodies closer, lost to the desire to fit their bodies together—to feel her liquid heat, her delicious softness.

Slowly, he explored her body with his gentle touch, earning him soft mewls and whines that felt like heaven in his ears. His gruff hand ventured down to her thighs, and, as if coaxed by an invisible force, she spread her legs in welcome invitation.

His breath came in quick pants, and he felt her soft, spry curls as he trailed his fingers over her—“

Dan Heng snatched the book from Caelus’s fingers with an rigid scowl; curses sat on the back his throat, ready to explode.

“ What. Is. Thi—“ He checked the spine of the book for its title, his mind racing as to how such obscene literature made its way into the Express in the first place.

Critique of Pure Reason.

Ah.

He stalked toward Caelus with the single-minded goal of throttling him.

“W-wait, wait! I was kidding! I just wanted to see your reaction!”

Dan Heng should’ve known better than to seek counsel from Caelus. If he was a little more rational, maybe his ears could’ve been spared from shameless erotica recited in—he barely suppressed a full-body shudder—his voice; one he’s somehow memorized (or worse, made up on the spot), of all things!

“Any last words?” he muttered darkly.

“No!” he protested, dragging out the syllable. Fearing for his life, he spat out a quick explanation, “I’m just trying to put a name to your feelings. It’s normal for human boys your age to have increased desires!”

Dan Heng halted in his tracks. Of course, Caelus doesn’t know who he was, or what he was—no one in the Nameless does.

“That’s impossible.”

“Wai—huh? What do you mean? Wait! Spare me!”

The door opened as he was shouting his last words, revealing an all-too-familiar face.

“March!” Caelus and Dan Heng exclaimed at the same time; one in piteous relief, and one in abject dread.

Her bright eyes took in the scene before her: Dan Heng looming over Caelus with his curled fingers inches from his throat.

“Save me!” In quick fashion, Caelus slipped from him and tucked himself behind March’s considerably smaller form.

She raised an amused brow, her gaze rising up to meet Dan Heng’s in bemusement. “What are you boys playing at?”

“Nothing.”

“We were reading about se—“

“ Nothing. ” Dan Heng gave him a pointed glare.

“Y-yeah, nothing!”

March’s eyes darted between them, her mouth opened for further inquiry. But, as if weighing between her curiosity and the price of it, she shut it close and sighed instead.

“Well, whatever it is, Himeko was wondering why you didn’t come back.”

“Oh, right.” Caelus smiled sheepishly.

“Come on, then. I’m hungry, and so is Pom-Pom!” March took him by the wrist and started dragging him out of the archives.

Yet before they vanished from sight, March turned back to address him. “How are you feeling? Did you rest?”

I’m as confused as before, yet now considerably more on fire.  

Dan Heng could only nod. “I’m fine.”

“Great!” She grinned, blissfully unaware that she might be the root of his sudden onset hysteria. “We have a meeting later tonight, for our next destination.”

“Understood.”

With a wave, the pair exited his room, the door swiftly closing behind them.

Dan Heng sighed, his shoulders slacking from exhaustion.

Once again, Caelus brought questions rather than answers. His words made perfect sense in some way, but in no way could it apply to him.

He was different.

Chapter Text

The sound of crashing waves was a sweet siren song, lulling him into deep slumber as the water surged around him.

There he lay, curled inside the warm protection of his shell, his eyes moving behind his closed lids.

Around him he could hear faceless entities talking, yet the billowing waves were too loud for him to discern any familiarity amongst the myriad of sounds.

He was dreaming.

Yet he, himself, was unsure whether these dreams were real, or mere illusions of long-forgotten distant years. Scenes flashed before his eyes, going as quick as they come and leaving only traces of heavy emotions blooming in his chest.

The sound of conversation seemed to drag him out of the fathomless abyss, his dream shifting as colors bled into it like ink on rough paper.

Suddenly, he felt warmness on his cheek and the sting of cuts and bruises riddling his body. Yet, in contrast to this physical pain, triumphant fire proudly burned in his bowed chest.

Under the canopy of the setting sun, he savored the sweet taste of liquor after a well-earned victory. Standing around him were his comrades, with their bodies, too, bruised and beaten, yet their eyes lit with mirth as they celebrated.

These four figures fought alongside him, their strength an arbitrator to their people; perhaps they were not of equal footing in terms of power, yet their shared will and unbridled determination to protect their home made them life-long allies all the same.

Their faces were so familiar, yet so distant. Two men, and two women; fellow champions he’d experienced as many victories as defeats with—friends whom he’d lay his life for.

The young, white-haired lieutenant raised his cup, his face smiling, and though his voice was swept under the billowing tide, he could read his lips as clear as day.

“Cheers!”

The sound of clicking porcelain and merry laughter resounded, but in a blink the scene twisted and distorted as it shifted to another illusion.

Gut-wrenching desperation tore at his chest, his racing heart booming like thunder in his ears. He was embroiled in battle, and a terrible foe loomed over him, its grip like vice around his body.

One by one he felt his mighty scales fall off his long body, its near-indestructible constitution rendered powerless in the face of the “divine”.

Defeat was inevitable, of that he was certain. Yet still he thrashed and clawed; willing for his broken limbs to move, for his spent power to rekindle. He fought, clinging to the dying hope of unlikely escape—of at least his friends surviving.

“Hang in there, ——— !”  

An aircraft flew past his head and threw itself into the emissary’s synthetic body. In quick succession, a bright white light filled his vision, blinding him just as silence fell over the battlefield like a blanket, erasing the sounds of war and death roaring in his bleeding ears.

His dream dragged him into the next illusion with the force of a raging tsunami, sweeping him down under and cutting off his ability to breathe. 

There he stood, his gaze fixed on a solemn man holding a tuft of bloody hair, his eyes filled with unending sorrow.

“ …won, but at what price?”

He felt himself exhale a weary breath laden with deep-seated grief. There was a cold fire in his chest, and despair clouded his eyes while remorse weighed his limbs down like lead. A single thought echoed in his head, When does it end?

In a blink, his dream shifted to a dark, dreary scene. There he stood, drained, panting as his eyes drank in the magnitude of his sin.

A horrible screeching noise rang in his ears, and to his gut-wrenching realization, it was coming from a familiar silhouette.

There she was, her sharp blade soaked in deep-red blood, standing before the corpse of the monster of his nightmares.

She cried out, shouting an angry lament to the skies above. It seemed to echo her sentiment, and poured a heavy shroud of rain around them, mixing with the sullied blood that pooled beneath their feet.

Indecipherable words and curses mixed in with her screams and wails, the miserable sound tearing at his chest—breaking what was left of his torn heart.

“—why? Why, why, why, why, why?!

WHY DID YOU DO IT?”

Dan Heng woke up with a shout, his arm outstretched as if longing to grasp something. A myriad of emotions filled him, wringing his gut as he leapt off his cot and raced out of his room.

He barely made it to the toilet as he retched, emptying the contents of his stomach—heavy with the weight of deep emotions. Tears unwittingly leaked from the corner of his eyes, adding credence to the endless horror that plagued his sleep.

Guilt and sorrow sat deep in his gut, digging and twisting its sharp talons into his very being with seemingly no intention of letting go.

Shaking from exhaustion and remorse, he stood up on unsteady legs; his swaying vision blurry as he cleaned up.

The prospect of going back to his room filled him with dread, yet the night was still early, and he would loathe to disturb the others.

And so, slowly, he wobbled out of the bathroom, his feet as heavy as lead as he delayed the inevitable for as long as he could. Every step closer brought a sinking feeling in his abdomen, and he feared that he might heave before he even made it part way through.

He wasn’t sure how long he stood there, but his sight eventually steadied and cleared, finally adjusting to the dimly lit hallway.

Only then did he notice a figure half-standing in the hallway and half in her room, observing him with guilt.

Their eyes met.

“It’s the meal I made, isn’t it? I’m sorry,” March whispered with self-reproach. 

Ah, that’s right. Himeko had been busy with a personal project, so March and Caelus volunteered to cook dinner for tonight.

Needless to say, it was a bit of a disaster—even before the food made its way to the table.

Dan Heng tried to speak, yet his thick voice cracked, his throat rough and scratched from his nightmares.

He tried again, “I’ll live,” was all that he managed to croak out.

Briefly, he wondered if she was awake even before his retching. Were the Astral’s walls thick enough to dampen his horrified screams? It was a thought he was too reluctant to entertain, so he banished it from his mind in an instant.

Before the silence between them could grow awkward, Dan Heng resumed his despondent trudge. Yet as he passed by March, her hand unexpectedly caught his sleeve.

“Can you stay with me for a bit?”

Dan Heng paused, unsure. It wasn’t the first time that March invited him into her room (nor will it undoubtedly be the last), but this was the first that such an invitation came at this hour of the night.

He should decline. They were friends, yes, but he had never entered her domain past lights off, and he wasn’t certain if that was a boundary he could retread once crossed.

But heavy misery and repressed guilt clung to the back of his mind like barbed hooks, vehemently refusing relief. There will be no solace tonight, and he knew from experience that going back to sleep in this state will only bring forth fresh nightmares.

And so, in a weary admission of defeat, he murmured, “Yes,” if only to momentarily forget the heavy burden of emotions that didn’t even belong to him.

They stepped into her room (he made sure to close the door only part way so as to not make her uncomfortable).

A relaxing air blanketed March’s room under soft light. Her choices of color were often pastels and pink, and so her room was a treat to the one’s senses under normal lighting; but now, with her windows closed and only the yellow nightlight by her bed open, the room was snug and cozy.

“Sit wherever you like,” she said as she made her way to her dresser, where a pitcher of water stood. March was the sort to always bring water to her room, in case she wakes up thirsty in the middle of the night.

He elected to sit by her desk, making sure to keep his movements to a minimum so as to not disturb her various trinkets and materials.

“Here.” She handed him a glass.

He drank heartily, finishing the glass in an instant, and, almost as quick, a fresh glass was handed to him—one he drank as greedily as he did the last.

Water has always soothed him, his predilection for it as natural as breathing. Yet his reverence to it at this moment was all too similar to a man encountering an oasis after treading miles upon miles of blazing desert.

Soon, her pitcher was empty.

“Jeez,” she murmured after he handed him her cup for the final time. Using the sleeve of her pajamas, she wiped the corner of his lips and the sides of his neck. “Don’t make a mess in other people’s rooms.”

Slowly, her touch moved on to his temples, brushing away the damp pieces of hair that clung to his clammy skin. Though she was silent as she wiped away the cold beads of his sweat, her face spoke in volumes; her brow slightly wrinkled in worry as she bit the inside of her cheek to keep her inquiry at bay.

Her meticulous task soothed him, and he could barely keep his eyes from closing as she ran her fingers through his hair, smoothing it off his forehead.

Eventually, the gentle massage stopped, and her hands softly cupped his cheeks, tilting his head up so their gazes met.

“You okay?” The question was so soft that it barely passed as a whisper, yet the implication in her eyes made it sound all too heavy.

His emotions surged, billowing forth like rolling waves, softly hushing his erratic mind until he could only focus on the low light that tenderly caressed her face. It floored him, rendering him incapable of speech—he could only nod.

Satisfied—for now—she withdrew from him with a small smile, and his cold skin quickly lamented the loss of her warmth.

She stretched with a long groan; her way of shaking off whatever just passed between them. “Well, seems like we won’t be sleeping any time soon.”

“Wanna help me with the pictures I took earlier? Caelus advised me to be more ‘picky’ with the stuff I put in my scrapbook,” she started, then trailed off with a frown, “Wait, was that his way of saying my scrapbook isn’t creative enough?!”

Now filled with newfound determination—Dan Heng suspected mostly out of pure spite for Caelus’s carefully-worded critique—March brightened the lights in her room and quickly pulled out her tools.

It wasn’t long until they were sitting cross-legged on her floor, his person once again delegated to bunny-cutting duties while she talked about ideas that could bring more “ flare” to her scrapbook.

She organized her pictures on a page, arranging them without tape or glue this way and that so as to get a glimpse of the final product.

She moved a photo of the stars captured from one of the Space Station’s many open corridors. “Hmm…what if I replace this he—“

“What are you two doing?” The groggy voice came from none other than Caelus, who was peeking inside the room through the half closed door.

“Ah,” March apologized, “Sorry, did we wake you up?”

“Nah, I needed to piss, but then I saw the open door and the lights.” His eyes zeroed on the mess around them. “I thought something was happening.”

Dan Heng glowered at him, but the young man simply rebutted with an all-too-innocent smile.

“Anyway, B-R-B.” He walked off in haste to finish his original goal. 

He came back not even five minutes later, now holding a suspicious-looking box.

“That was quick.”

Dan Heng made a face. “Did you even wash your hands?”

Despite the very valid inquiry, however, the Stellaron host chose to ignore their quips altogether, and instead presented the box to their face.

“Behold, a game that makes or breaks any kind of relationship.”

Dan Heng took a quick glance at the red and white lettering on its surface and the well-dressed character with a top hat right beside it. “Where did you get this?” It was his first time seeing or hearing about this.

Caelus shrugged. “A gift from Welt, said it could be a fun experience for us three.”

“Oooh!” March was positively giddy. “Is it a board game? I love board games!”

A sinister smile crept up Caelus’s face. He chuckled darkly, “Very well, my newly-elected pupil, I shall teach you the value of economics and the ugly truths behind free real estate!”

Before the two could dive deeper into whatever roleplay Caelus started, Dan Heng cleared up enough space on the floor so they could start the game.

Soon enough, March’s room was lit with merry laughter, overly-dramatic denials, defeated groans, and thinly-veiled death threats that sounded well into the early hours of the new day.

Come late morning, Himeko would wonder where the usual early birds were, and she would find two empty rooms in her search.

In the last room, however, she would see a toppled board game and her beloved allies sleeping on various positions on the floor—one on his stomach with paper money and die strewed about his back, one leaning against the unmade bed with his arms folded, and one slumped against his shoulder, snoring softly with a dice still in her hand.

She would take this scene in with a soft smile and walk off in good humor, letting them sleep in this time.

Chapter Text

To Dan Heng, his home world was nothing but a prison. His very first memories were the cold metals linked around his wrists and limbs, pinning him to the cold ground and preventing any movement.

At first, he cried, begging the bottomless abyss for forgiveness. Because, surely, he must’ve done something very grave to deserve such painful treatment.

Yet the void remained silent, speaking no rhyme nor reason as to who he was, where he was, or why he was here. Even the void denied him, leaving him in eternal darkness with nothing but misery and loneliness as his companions.

In the neverending night, it mattered not whether his eyes were open or closed. He didn’t know if something existed beyond the blackness, yet sometimes, after he succumbed to hefty exhaustion brought by sad tears, he saw visions beyond the murk—of a world filled with color, of various shapes and textures he’d never seen nor felt before. 

He savored each and every second of those brief moments, wishing they’d never pass—desperately hoping that they wouldn't fade away. Yet they always did, leaving him to his bleak reality once more, and every time fresh tears replaced the dried tracks on his cheeks.

Eventually, his limbs grew thicker and longer, and silence replaced his wretched sobs. His first visitors appeared then, and for the first time he saw light.

They came from above, descending before him like divine emissaries. There he kneeled, his eyes wide with awe and his chest aching with hope, as they stood before his meek figure.

One of them spoke, yet his uneducated mind couldn’t comprehend a single sound. Even so, he felt their animosity, their disgust at seemingly his very being. It scared him, it made him want to curl up and hide from their spiteful gazes. 

His visitors removed the cold shackles that bound him, and the sudden lightness of his body caught him off guard, rendering him prone, unsure how to use any of his limbs.

He was promptly dragged out of the only “home” he’d ever had, and in a quick flurry of movement he was introduced to the outside world. The bright light assaulted his sensitive eyes.

The moment his gaze landed upon the blanket of calm waters that stretched as far as he could see, only one thought arose in Dan Heng’s mind:

Ah, so this is home.

Yet he had no time to savor his first sight of absolute beauty, nor savor the salty breeze that came along with it. The strangers who’d dragged him out of his dark prison pressed on, their solemn gazes focused ahead.

Soon, he was taught their language—one he was puzzlingly familiar with and as such was very easy to learn. 

Then, they told him of his identity and the prestigious clan he belonged to, upon which he learned his first lesson:

Your crimes are grave, and to your own kin you have brought naught but grief and blasphemy. You are a creation of sin, and you must pay for your transgressions.

Feigning calm, he simply turned his head to the side, once again focusing his attention back to the waters that called to him.

How he wished he could swim—that he could be swept by the rolling waves and away from the critical eyes that loathed him. If only he could shed his current self and turn into sea foam; to float away with no particular direction other than to be far from this place.

But, as he was soon to learn, even this beautiful world and its waters spurned him.

He was constantly kept under watch, and was forbidden from leaving the house they’d put him in. Everyday, his clan mates came and went, most of them visited to teach him history and various skills, while others interrogated him about the details of his crime.

Dan Heng answered them with silence, but not out of contempt for their hostility, but simply because he couldn’t recall anything about his alleged offense.

One day, a new stranger came to visit. One who was missing the pointy ears characteristic of Vidyadhara, and who, unlike the long, scholarly robes worn by his usual visitors, wore a sharp, military outfit.

As Dan Heng sat by the open corridor that faced a small garden, the stranger approached him. He walked with a laid-back—almost lazy—gait, and Dan Heng could instantly sense that he was the easygoing sort (which was a breath of fresh air).

“Hello,” he greeted in a lazy drawl, his golden eyes trained on his face with keen attention.

Though Dan Heng was used to scornful looks, he was unaccustomed to ingenuous curiosity.

“Beautiful day, isn’t it?” the tall man continued, unaffected by his lack of response.

There had been little change in weather since he arrived, yet he wasn’t one to complain; The warm sunlight felt nice, and the gentle breeze made him feel some semblance of peace.

“I suppose.” Dan Heng silently wondered why the man was here, attempting small talk.

He appeared to be a high-ranking official, and not only because of his clothes, but because the clan elders told him that he was under house arrest and that absolutely no one was allowed to visit him.

So for this man to casually walk inside this facility, alone and completely unguarded, could only mean that he either obtained exclusive permission from the elders—which was unlikely—or he held power over anyone in his clan.

“Forgive me for taking so long to visit, I just got back from a long expedition. I only learned of your release yesterday.”

The stranger spoke as if they were long-lost friends, yet he was certain he had never met him before.

Deafening silence stretched between them, only broken by a chuckle from the white-haired man. His eyes looked a little sad as he said, “I guess speaking was never your strongest suit.”

“Were you acquainted with my previous incarnation?” Dan Heng asked, now curious.

The man paused, as if weighing his words, then chuckled once more. “I suppose we were.”

“Then, what was he like?” Dan Heng had heard about the incident that his precious incarnation caused more times than he cared to count, yet he had never learned about him as a person.

The man didn’t expect his sudden question. He stood in silence for a while, pondering, his eyes filled with nostalgia as he stared off at a far wall.

“He was…a lot like you.” A hollow smile crossed his lips. “A man of few words, someone who never spoke his thoughts.”

Dan Heng frowned, displeased. “I sound incorrigible.” He didn’t sound like a pleasant person to be around with at all.

The man guffawed, bending over to hold his abdomen as he struggled to regain his posture—and failed. He’d simmer down, take a glance at his face, then start laughing all over again.

“Indeed you were!” he wheezed.

Dan Heng figured he was the weird sort.

The man came to visit him several more times, sometimes with a chess board, and more often with snacks and drinks. He’d often ask about his dreams, yet Dan Heng answered as he usually does.

His dreams were vivid at the moment, but they slipped away like sand as soon as he woke up, leaving only feelings and intense emotions.

One day, the man visited again, but this time he carried with him a long stick with one pointed end. He handed it to him, and, betraying the man’s one-handed grip on it, Dan Heng’s knees nearly buckled from its weight.

“This was yours.”

“It is?” Dan Heng asked, amazed. As he was now, the spear was way too long for him to carry, much less wield.

The man nodded. “It was made by a very talented craftsman…and was given the name Cloud-Piercer ,” he added, “Although I barely saw you use it normally.”

And now even more so, Dan Heng saw little use for it. He was confined in this place, and martial prowess had little utility when it came to battles against papers and books.

Dan Heng’s grip tightened around the metal, feeling the fine work that went into its details. Unworldly and inexperienced as he was, he could tell that whoever made this weapon was very passionate about their craft.

Perhaps it would be a waste to toss such a fine weapon in storage and leave it to rot.

“Jing Yuan,” he called the golden-eyed man. “Will you teach me how to fight?”

The announcement of his banishment came to no one’s surprise. Dan Heng, as he always did, accepted his sentence with silence. His voice, so often unheard, was a mere tool to express his grief and nothing else.

Before he left, the white-haired man spoke to him, bidding him farewell and wishing him safe travels. 

Thanks to his teachings—little as they were due to the elders’ interjection—Dan Heng was confident enough that he could survive alone outside of Xianzhou.

Yet, like the others, the golden-eyed man’s warm sentiment was met with a silent nod.

Dan Heng left his “home,” and never looked back.

He warped from world to world, though he never settled long enough to leave a significant mark anywhere.

In his travels, he witnessed both beauty and sin, of different shades of gray, of the complexities of different individuals. As he observed all this, he sought meaning—he wished not to atone for a crime he didn’t commit, only for him to have a particular task he could sink himself in.

His journey of seeking purpose, however, was quickly thwarted by an enemy from his forgotten past—one who sought vengeance.

Then, his journey became one of necessity; having to rely on instinct more often than not to escape fatal incidents. Meeting the man with solemn eyes was a trigger, and every night ghosts started to haunt him, tormenting him of his sin.

Yet they were all as elusive as his sweet dreams—carried away like morning dew in warm sunlight come morning, only to be experienced anew in horrifying detail the next night.

Yet he pushed on, now backed with the desperate need for survival. He slew monsters that came his way, and, without the explicit intent to, saved people along the way. They lauded him as a hero, and praised him with misty eyes.

It was during one such occasion when he met Himeko, a woman with a friendly smile and hair as red as blazing fire. She invited him to the path of The Trailblaze, a faction with ideals that, as it turned out, perfectly matched his current situation.

Hesitant as he was at first, Himeko was able to convince to board the Astral Express.

Joining the Nameless had brought him peace he never experienced before. He met wonderful allies, and created many beautiful memories with them. Perhaps that was his gravest mistake—he became complacent.

The sturdy walls of the Express was nothing but an escape, the temporary solace he so desperately needed.

For years, he ran without looking back. He took up the role of the Guard, a juxtaposition to the title the elders spat at him with vitriol: criminal. 

He played the part of his new character eagerly, thinking that he could be someone—thinking that he could seek the meaning denied from him upon rebirth.

In hindsight, he was nothing but a fool.

Not a single being in this endless universe can run from their shadow, and he only wished he’d realized it sooner—before he endangered the allies who had become so dear to him.

By the incessant meddling of a faction known as the Stellaron Hunters, Dan Heng found himself right back where he started—staring at the prison he was freed from so many years ago. Only this time, aboard that massive fleet of ships, was the enemy who tirelessly hunted him.

“Of five people, three must pay the price…”

His head throbbed as these words seemed to echo in his mind; a dark whisper that haunted his dreams and often tormented even his waking moment. He stood frozen, his body unwilling to cooperate as a familiar sensation shook his very being: bone-chilling fear.

Yet what little choice does he have? Fear was no longer an excuse once his allies became tangled in his issues like this.

And so he went, ironically switching roles with the madman who relentlessly chased after him; the pursued thus became the pursuer. 

Dan Heng found the man who called himself Blade waiting for him, as if anticipating their dramatic reunion. He appeared even more maddened than before, and beside him stood the woman who caused the gears of this entire expedition to turn.

A knowing smile was plastered on her red lips, a stark contrast to the perpetual far-away look in her light eyes. She was an enigma to him, but Dan Heng cared little to understand her or her motives, all he wanted was for them to stop meddling in his life.

“I told you, I am Dan Heng.”

Yet his words fell deaf on the madman’s ears, and he swiftly drew his sharp blade. His attacks were reckless, each swing meant to deliver a fatal blow with no concern over his own being, and Dan Heng fought hard to deflect strike after strike.

A small but skilled swordsman interfered, and his presence caught Dan Heng off guard, allowing Blade to finally land a deadly blow.

If he wasn’t a Vidyadhara, if he hadn't been using a false form to hide his “true” identity, then the sword that pierced his chest would have been his end. Yet he was, and all the fatal wound did was render him unable to sustain the exuvia of “Dan Heng.”

With no choice but to shed his current form, translucent horns sprouted out of his head as power surged into his veins like raging tides. He rose from the ground as golden light enveloped him, bathing him with its warm embrace as he welcomed the powers he’d once willingly sealed inside. 

A golden orb manifested in his open palm, as if greeting him for his long-awaited return.

He breathed in deep, as one would while stretching after hours of being cooped up. The salty scent of the gray waters briefly made his eyes shut in nostalgia. 

A loathsome sigh of relief nearly left his lips—despite everything, despite all the ire and loneliness this form had given him, as he stood amidst the Ancient Sea that birthed him, he felt as if a heavy weight was lifted off his shoulders. 

Home…

It wasn’t, though. 

Home was somewhere else now.

Just as he prepared to blaze through the people who blocked his path, Kafka, the woman with red-wine hair who always accompanied Blade, ordered them to stop. A mysterious power laced her voice, and, as if bespelled, the three of them could do nothing but obey.

The Stellaron Hunter spoke about setting the stage for the Luofu, and, as if by design, a familiar man stepped into the fray.

Jing Yuan was quick to defuse the situation, and, with their apparent purpose now fulfilled, the Stellaron Hunters were quick to depart.

The tall general was just as efficient to lead Dan Heng back to his allies.

“So…you do have secret strength!?” To hear March’s bemused remark was a relief; she didn’t sound injured nor particularly troubled. Additionally, she wore a gobsmacked look—one that mimicked Caelus’s.

Catching up, however, will have to wait, for a greater foe awaits—something divine (“god’s creation”) one that not even long-life species like Dan Heng and Jing Yuan can ever hope to defeat on their own.

Although their motives are unclear, all the Stellaron Hunters’ interference led to this moment, all to halt the doings of Destruction’s emanator.

But for their mission to even begin, Dan Heng had to unlock the secrets of his past incarnation—to remember the memories he’d wished to forget. 

He who held their secrets, wielded his power, and Dan Heng made a choice.

No more running, no more turning back. 

If it was fate that led him back here, then he shall accept the challenge, and blaze his own path through.

Although they won with resounding victory (albeit Jing Yuan was heavily wounded and was thus currently incapacitated) the Luofu’s celebrations were dampened by the loss of countless lives—ones so prematurely ended out of Destruction’s pure whim.

They conducted funerary customs, and sent starskiffs out in honor of the brave souls who fought and laid down their lives in glory. A grand procession of aircrafts soared through the sky and into the astral sea, gently wading through the fathomless sea of stars until they, too, were beautiful twinkling lights.

It was a grand tradition, one that was truly sight to behold, granted only to those left behind to carry the splendor of honor and live to fight another day.

Hours after the bustle of the event died down, Dan Heng found himself standing by the docks that faced Scalegorge Waterscape, the buried cradle of his people’s birth and subsequent rebirth.

Despite his significant contribution in defeating an emanator of Destruction, he was still a convicted criminal, and so he elected to stay in the sidelines and away from any person’s sight as much as he could. 

Of course, this was nothing but a temporary resolution; sooner or later, the elders will be made aware of his presence (afterall, he was the only person who could unseal Scalegorge Waterscape) and what will follow will undoubtedly be a long and arduous process.

He stared out at the Ancient Sea as he rested his elbows on the railing that lined the docks. The gentle breeze on his face and the warm sunset on his skin brought him tranquility, and he closed his eyes with a sigh.

“That’s a long one.” Someone quipped behind him.

“March.”

“That’s me.” Casually, she leaned her back against the railing.

She stared at him silently, observing his new appearance. Although Dan Heng had no intention of consistently using his true form after this expedition, it felt nice to stretch his legs after a long while, so to speak.

March’s perusal was understandable (and much expected) and, so far, a lot more tactful than Caelus’s. 

The young man had walked up to him as soon as the battle died down, and, as if he couldn’t contain it anymore, blurted out a question that nearly floored him, “So, like, what do you exactly inhibit ?”

“Caelus,” came his slow, deadpan response, “This form is called Imbibitor Lunae.”

“I always knew you have super secret strength, but I didn’t expect it to be super super.” March’s gaze traveled upwards, then darted back to his eyes again.

Dan Heng grunted.

Her eyes glanced up again. “Sooooo…”

A soft sigh left him, then he turned to fully face her. “Would you like to touch them?”

“Oh, phew!” Her shoulders sagged in dramatic relief. “I thought you’d never ask. I wasn’t sure about Vidyadhara customs and I didn’t want to offend you.”

Strictly speaking, horns were characteristic only to high elders, and Dan Heng doubted anyone was going around groping high elder bits. But March was, well, March, and her curiosity was better left satiated—mainly for the sake of his sanity.

“I don’t mind.” Crossing his arms, he lowered himself so she could reach without putting herself in an awkward position.

She was practically bouncing with excitement as she reached up, her eyes bright.

“Oooooh!” 

Her touch was warm and gentle, and also curious, but not intrusive. Except…

“Can you not look like that while...pawing me?”

“Sorry.” she said before sticking out her tongue in rebellion. “This is so cool! It’s see-through like water, but solid like ice, but warm!”

Dan Heng’s response was his characteristic grunt.

“Y’know, I saw another dragon earlier, but she was way smaller—“ she rushed to peek behind him, and since she was still grasping his horns, his head jerked down from the action, eliciting a grunt of pain. “—and she has a cute tail—oh.”

Well, now this is certainly an awkward predicament.

“Sorry,” she whispered, on account of their sudden closeness. Yet despite her soft apology, she didn’t let go.

He didn’t move, either.

Her fingers gradually loosened around him, but she didn’t end their contact. Instead, she traced her thumb over the wing of his eyebrow, before it traveled down to his now-closed eyelid.

Slightly pouting, she said, “Your eyes are prettier than mine.” 

“Are they?” Dan Heng begged to differ.

She nodded with a hum. Her fingers then threaded through the long locks that framed his face; she frowned. “How come your hair is silkier than mine?”

He shrugged. “Vidyadhara thing?”

“Unfair, is what it is.” She huffed. “But either way, I can practice my braiding skills with you now.”

Well, he was, at the very least, glad that she’s coping well with his rather sudden change.

He let her pet him for a while longer, but then a touch of seriousness crept onto her face as she stepped back. “I asked Welt about your history with the Luofu, but he said the details should come from you.” She bit the inside of her cheek as she averted her gaze. “Why did you leave? Why did you hide?”

To March, who actively sought her origins, the concept of seemingly rejecting one’s ancestry must be baffling.

Gently, he captured her chin between his fingers and tilted her head up so their eyes could meet. “Not by choice. I was exiled.”

Her eyes widened, and a quick apology left her lips.

Dan Heng turned back to the sea, his gaze trained on the horizon as he recounted the story of his past. He figured it was time for her to know, and there couldn’t be a more appropriate time and place than here and now.

The mild breeze and the soft sound of gentle waves soothed him enough for him to speak about his earliest memories. 

He told her about the Shackling Prison, and how well acquainted he was of its insides; he spoke about thinking he was finally granted his freedom, only to find out he was merely placed into a prettier cage; he expressed his guilt for incurring the wrath of his entire clan, even though he couldn’t really remember his deeds.

He described his lonesome journey across the universe, and how it helped shape him as a person.

His tale ended with Blade’s pursuit, and how he was the reason why he left the Express to follow them back to the Luofu.

He kept his gaze trained to the distant, protruding structures of Scalegorge Waterscape even after he was finished; part of him didn’t want to see her reaction. Or perhaps, he admitted to himself, he was simply scared to look and see pity on her face.

Her hand suddenly wrapped around the forearm that was perched on the railing; she held him tight, her fingernails digging into the soft armor that protected his skin.

He faced her then, expecting pure sympathy, perhaps even some tears, but what greeted him was nothing short of surprising.

“That’s—I’m so pissed!” was her red-faced exclamation. Her brows were drawn together, her eyes lit with fiery rage. “You’re not Dan Feng, why should you answer for something you didn’t even do?!”

He exhaled a short sigh, and the corners of his lips tilted up just the slightest bit.

But she didn’t notice as her tirade continued, “That’s like paying for something your father did!” she huffed. “Those elders are so up their—they’re so full of themselves!” She gestured her arms around as if she needed an extension for her ire.

“And growing up chained in complete darkness isn’t good for anyone, no wonder you’re so emotionally stunted!”

Oh, wow.

Eventually, she blew a frustrated puff of air to the hair on her forehead. She sagged against the railing.

“I know I probably can’t see the bigger picture—I don’t know whoever this Dan Feng guy is or whatever he did, and he sounds complicated as heck—” she looked up at him “—All I know and care about is you , and what they did to you doesn’t sit right with me.”

“Mm.” His throat felt tight, and his heart suddenly felt too big for his chest. Before he knew it, he was already petting her head. “Thank you, March.”

She chuckled, and the pleasant sound tickled his ears. “Then, you’re still part of the Express Crew, right?”

“That goes without saying,” he said with a firm nod. “Without me, you and Caelus will run the train off the rails quicker than Pom-Pom can blink.”

She scowled. “Okay, we’re not that bad.”

Perhaps, but his presence still reduces the chances of future incidents.

They stayed silent for a moment, simply enjoying this moment of calm between them. The setting sun heralded the coming dusk, and casted a soft shadow over her face.

“Dan Heng,” she said as she took his hand off her head and clasped it between her two hands. “Whatever my past is, I’ll have you and everyone beside me, right?”

He nodded, eyes trained on hers. “Remember what I told you? I’ll always take you home.”

“Then, I’ll return the sentiment,” she announced before she charged at him. Before he could figure out what was happening, she already had his arms pinned on his sides in a bear hug. “I’ll shoot whoever comes after you, be it a clan member or that crazy guy. They won’t touch a single hair on your head.”

“How fierce.”

She nodded from where she had her face plastered on his chest. “Hell hath no fury than a woman scorned!”

He considered telling her that the saying doesn’t particularly apply for this case, but he appreciated her sentiment regardless, so he didn’t. 

Instead, he simply rested his chin on top of her head.