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Himeko was the first to notice.
It was a flicker of light, one in the countless stars they’d passed by on the Astral Express. She would have noticed its flicker, then let it drift by alongside other stars scattered helplessly across a vast nebulae, but she shifted, ever so slightly to enjoy a better view of space she’d grown fond of calling her second home.
She saw them and her wandering gaze halted, fixing itself on an unmistakable figure floating through the cosmos. Himeko set her teacup down, rising fully, steps graceful, if not somewhat taken in a curious hurry, carrying her across to a glass window. She didn’t need to squint but her eyes narrowed regardless; a person, there was no doubt about it.
“Welt,” she called, voice soft with firm urgency. She didn’t need to see him to picture him turning in his chair, “There’s someone there.”
Welt approached, not out of distrust (they’d been together for so long that time itself was irrelevant in describing anything but the unbreakable bond they had), merely curious himself. He wasn’t myopic, the glasses did nothing other than shield his eyes from harmful radiation, so noticing the same outlier in space was effortless as his cane’s gravitational manipulation.
“We should get them on board,” his tone left no room for argument, the same firm, concerned resolve he’d often used. “They could still be alive.”
Slowly, with careful gentleness and Pom Pom’s assistance, they brought the person in, the retrieval process seamless as the countless other times they’d helped other stranded travellers. A girl, no older than the younger members of the crew who gathered at the unexpected commotion in the parlour car.
Her hair seemed to have been blessed by the stars she was found wandering across, moonlight locks falling in soft, even bangs across her forehead while the rest was held by a scarlet ribbon. Her attire was strikingly understated, black and white clothes with silver accessories consisting of a thigh chain and a delicate bracelet holding an ocean blue jewel each, the only splotch of colour in her otherwise monochrome ensemble.
The girl herself, however, wasn’t breathing.
“Dan Heng, what are you waiting for? Do CPR!”
“Is that gonna be a thing now? Dan Heng kissing every girl we meet?”
“You’d know, wouldn’t you.”
“I’m not–“ Dan Heng shot March and Stelle a flat look. “That was different.”
“Do it, Dan Heng,” Welt interjected, tone unchanging, “we don’t have much time.”
Dan Heng remembered how willing he’d been to lean in and press his lips against Stelle’s during their first encounter on the space station. He’d been the one to suggest it too, but the difference was… truthfully, he didn’t know. It felt different, perhaps that was all, and back then, he wasn’t teased about something that should be life-saving, now reduced to romantic entertainment for their cinematic pleasure. Himeko and Welt, at least, were more mature.
He knelt down, beginning with chest compressions, stares from his friends burning his skin, turning into searing heat as he counted up to thirty and cupped the girl’s face with utmost care. Her pearl lips were surprisingly warm, space releasing its biting chill on her, another indication she was still alive besides her weak heartbeat. He repeated it once, twice, training his mind to focus on breathing air into her lungs rather than the softness of her mouth. A final breath, and she gasped, Dan Heng leaning back to let her breathe.
“Wow,” Stelle smirked, “maybe March shouldn’t have stopped you that time.”
“She’s alive,” Himeko leaned down beside the girl whose breathing was slowly evening out, “but it might take some time for her to wake up. Let’s bring her to the med bay.”
Dan Heng didn’t need prompting this time; he lifted the girl into his arms, his shoulder a makeshift pillow for her head as he cradled her form close to his chest. The rest of them followed him past the passenger cabins to the medical area where he lay her down on one of the spare beds, sleeping away her exhaustion.
Himeko approached, drawn to a katana strapped to the girl’s waist. “There’s something here,” she pointed out, removing the sword. The sheath had an understated floral design, while the katana’s hilt held a pale blue sheen. It was undoubtedly made for fighting, and Himeko examined it closely, fingers gliding over the sheath until she felt something.
A name, engraved in two different languages, one of which she could thankfully read.
“Minori… Yin.”
“Is that her name?”
“It’s possible,” Himeko placed the weapons down, glancing at March, “but we’ll have to wait until she wakes up. Let’s give her some space for now.”
They shuffled out one by one, Dan Heng lingering a bit longer. He had, essentially, kissed her, despite how he denied the idea. His calm exterior hadn’t betrayed the light flutter in his chest when his lips made contact. It was part of resuscitation, though whether necessary or not remained to be seen.
Dan Heng turned on his heel and decided to search the databank for more information on helpful tactics not involving mouth-to-mouth.
March was the second to notice.
She caught the parlour car door opening first, and it couldn’t have been any of the other crew members since they were all gathered in the train (a rare sight, Dan Heng more so than anyone because the archives was his literal hiding place; they’d know, he was in there for ages, not considering leaving his room until their adventure at Penacony had reached its peak and even that required an unprecedented intervention from a Galaxy Ranger. It was lucky, rather the girl was lucky, she got to meet them all at once, though with how she’d woken up from drifting aimlessly in space, March absently wondered about their presence being more overwhelming than comforting). The girl stepped out, visibly, mildly disoriented, her eyes (a vivid, deep blue reflecting the depths of the ocean) flickering over all of them for a moment before she saw the stunning, unchanging view of space, walking over to the nearest window as if mesmerised. March gave her a moment, knowing from experience how she felt waking up in a new, unfamiliar environment – at least she had a name, or perhaps she didn’t remember either, and if she were to choose a random one, the current month was still suitable.
“Hey, you’re awake!” March characteristic excitement didn’t scare the girl off, thankfully, as she turned to face her, seemingly accepting the course of events after she’d awoke as natural. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m… not sure,” her voice was soft, light, a balance between March’s higher octave and Stelle’s deeper vocals, “I don’t… remember anything.”
“Aww, come on, you gotta remember your name, at least.”
She paused, March taking that second to hope she’d go with her “random name” idea, “…my name… is… Minori Yin. But please, just call me Yin.”
“Ooh, cool! Nice to meet you, Yin. I’m March 7th. This is Mr Yang, Stelle, Dan Heng and Himeko. We’re Trailblazers of the Nameless.”
It was then Yin did something unexpected; she clasped her hands, shifted her feet together, and bowed, low at the waist. “It’s an honour to meet you all.”
“Hey, what’s with the formality?” Stelle chuckled, endearingly amused, “Relax. We’re all friends here.”
“It’s customary to bow when meeting new people,” Yin's response was automatic, then she blinked, unsure where she had retrieved such knowledge behind her etiquette, “I… don’t know how I know that.”
“Another amnesiac girl, hm?” Welt offered a smile, warm, comforting, “This is becoming a pattern.”
“Where am I, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“You’re on the Astral Express, a train travelling across the universe,” Himeko informed Yin kindly, taking a step closer. “That’s how we found you, actually. You were floating out in space.”
Yin managed a small nod, a crease in her brows indicating more questions she left unvoiced, if only for now. Her confused intrigue was tempered (March could tell, it was the same for her, and time was needed to come to terms with it. The difference was March couldn’t contain her curiosity back then, peppering Himeko, Welt, Pom Pom and Dan Heng with queries of every kind of the train – Aeons, the path of Akivili, stars, meteors, supernovas, the universe – and all of them were patient despite not always knowing the answers. Yin appeared to have a semblance of self control, which was… more than March could say for herself, or maybe it was a self-defence measure while processing everything to keep her thoughts in check. She was surprisingly resilient in that regard.) enough for March to step in and take her arm, her excitement at showing a new guest on the train around on full blast.
“Come on! I’ll give you a tour of the train. Since you’re gonna stay with us for awhile, it’s best if you don’t get lost.”
“Oh, okay…”
Yin could barely get two words out before March was tugging her back down the corridor, puzzled footsteps synching with energetic ones.
“So…” Stelle gestured at the doorway they disappeared through, “should we save her, or…?”
“She’ll be alright,” Welt assured, “March’s enthusiasm might be good for her.”
“Dan Heng would disagree.”
Dan Heng remained impassive.
“See?”
“Yin’s just a little confused,” Himeko cut in gently, the glimmer her gold eyes betraying a hint of amusement. “It’s normal, given the circumstances. March’s tour will be a nice distraction.”
“You think she’ll remember to eat?” Stelle asked, only half-joking. “She’s been in space for who knows how long. If I were her, I’d be starving.”
“We’ll prepare lunch, then. Dan Heng, can you fetch March and Yin once they’re done?”
Dan Heng nodded, not quite having anything else to say.
“I’ll go check on them,” Stelle stood, shaking her head at an image of Yin following March around like an innocent infant bird, “make sure March doesn’t scare the poor girl.”
A crash echoed down the hall. Stelle winced.
“Too late.”
Dan Heng wasn’t sure what he had expected, it just wasn’t this.
March, a pointer in hand (where in the universe she got that was, and would remain, a mystery), gesturing at her photo memorabilia wall at twice the speed the images were changing and Yin, calmly standing beside her listening attentively, if not with some lingering bewilderment, to March’s recount of their various adventures. Their tour had concluded ages ago, March finding a new activity for both of them straight after, namely a crash course showcase of the places they’d been, her photography skills useful in more ways than one. It had been so long since they’d gotten a new passenger, no one could blame March for getting carried away. The rest of them should have shared her enthusiasm, but she was often told she carried more than enough energy for all five of them combined and this proved their point. Yin was simply content to go along with it, not that she had a choice (they were the first people she encountered; her blank slate of memories and the Astral Express’ helpful, welcoming nature almost obligating her to accept and adapt. Still, she seemed nice.)
“…and then bam! The sword Stelle was whammied with is the lance she uses now. We were scared half to death when we saw her stabbed, but when she fell off the cliff, there was this weird bright light and she was suddenly holding it in her hand and standing up like it was nothing! ”
“ Ahem ,” Dan Heng coughed, none-too-gently, not trying to diminish March’s bubbly regale but also making an effort to get his point across, “lunch is ready.”
“Oh come on! I’m in the middle of the best part!”
“Well, I don’t suppose you want to continue on an empty stomach and cause both you and her to starve.”
“I– actually, you have a point… come on, Yin. Wait till you taste Himeko’s coffee!”
Somehow, Dan Heng knew that would be more overwhelming than all of the adventure information overload.
He trailed behind the two girls, the distance separating them widening by the second because of the difference between March’s strides (she was eager to go to lunch too, especially with a new friend in tow) and his slower, deliberate pace.
“That was only Belobog,” March kept rambling as the dining car doors slid open, her grip on Yin’s wrist unyielding as her exuberance. “There’s still our trip to Herat Space Station, the Xianzhou, and Penacony – that was a living nightmare – and everything that happened in between. Like that time we were swallowed by the Giant Sting, and how the Master Diviner Fu Xuan tried to help me regain my memories, and–“
“I see March gave you the 411?”
Himeko smiled from her position behind the stove, stirring a pot of stew (not coffee, Dan Heng was relieved) she soon brought to a table.
“I would have given her the 5 11 if someone hadn’t threatened that she’d starve if I continued.”
“Forgive me for not wanting you to die so soon.”
“I’m surprised you’re still alive after how much you claimed I’d embarrassed you to death.”
Dan Heng could feel Yin’s gaze flickering between them, head tilted slightly in uncertain concern. There was no amusement; she didn’t understand their dynamic, not yet, everything was new, but the crew had been unreservedly themselves, giving her full liberty to adjust.
“Don’t mind them,” Stelle smiled, placing an assuring hand on Yin’s shoulder. Yin didn’t flinch, didn’t react, though there was a flash of something across her eyes – surprise, he had to guess – that he caught, fleeting, but present for a second. How long had it been since she felt the warmth of someone’s touch, he didn’t know (maybe she was used to it after March’s handling, tugging her everywhere. Her own hands were small, he estimated fifteen and a half centimetres at most, able to fit snugly in any of theirs, another reason March had so much fun earlier.) “They’re always like this. The real problem is getting them to stop.”
March scoffed, “Don’t act all innocent.”
“At least I know when not to join in.”
“Says the girl who literally instigates these half the time .”
“Alright,” Himeko chuckled, setting a pot down on a dining table, “that’s enough for now. Lunch time. Yin, you must be hungry. Please, eat.”
It was as if Yin had rediscovered the concept of hunger. They settled at the table, and she picked up some chopsticks, twirling them between the gaps in her fingers instinctively (it reminded him of the way he handled Cloud Piercer, her effortless precision hinting at more than reflexive muscle memory. Training, possibly, or a habit she could have developed.) then taking some vegetables to try. She brightened, eyes widening, sitting up straighter, aiming for a small portion of rice now to balance out the saltiness.
Himeko laughed again, her earnestness endearing, “Seems your appetite’s still intact.”
She ate with measured grace, her prior etiquette on bowing translating to table manners. She was operating on intuition and natural human desires at this point, despite her movements retaining a semblance of control as though afraid to do too much, too soon. He seemed to be watching her tread a line between restrained curiosity and excited indiscipline (a side effect of memory loss, he remembered how March wasn’t afraid to squeal and chase down Pom Pom because of how adorable they were mere minutes after she first woke up on the train vividly. That was the only time he regretted not being in possession of a camera March now carried with her everywhere.)
Dan Heng had yet to hear her speak again. It would be awhile, considering she was preoccupied with her newfound need for food. He’d yet to see her smile too, though she was far from uncomfortable, her posture slightly lax informing him such. It shouldn’t bother him, but even Stelle had shown more personality right after their first unintentional mission together, exasperatedly commenting on why Arlan activated the lift so far away like it was a personal inconvenience and how she’d never met a more reckless girl than March in her life (although, given that March was the first girl she’d met, there wasn’t much basis for comparison).
Yin was simply… calm. And he wasn’t sure it was just out of politeness.
“Dan Heng, stop staring! What, are you trying to read her mind?”
He blinked, realising with an uncomfortable start that March was right, her sharp, teasing tone cutting through the collected miscellany of his observations hard enough to scatter, not shatter, and he quickly filed them away in a corner of his mind for safekeeping.
“I’m not,” he sighed, reluctantly turning his attention back to his untouched bowl.
The lingering disquiet within him remained – Yin’s calmness felt unnatural, not forced, just controlled, as though she was unclear on how to react other than being this way. She had feelings, that much he could confirm, her curiosity, confusion were all genuine, and her honesty was part of it (though he suspected she thought more than she spoke, she was still processing everything after all), but she was keeping everything at arm’s length, a fragile distance, an invisible glass wall between her and the world that one gentle breath would break.
He knew calm, he was often described as expressionless, unfeeling, “Cold Dragon Young” (a stupid, yet not entirely inaccurate nickname for those who didn’t see beyond the surface level. Funny, they were in the Underworld at the time.) had its first adjective for a reason, his resting face dominating anything emotion he expressed. His friends knew him better than to judge, despite the occasional teasing about his cautiousness; he was careful on how he felt, choosing to analyse and think before reacting, speaking to make a point or reminder. His emotions were still keenly felt, not repressed, but subtle, existing nevertheless.
Yin – again, Yin was simply… calm.
Briefly, he wondered if poking her with Cloud Piercer would do the trick.
He shook the thought off at once.
Stelle and March kept talking, if only to overpower the silence that clouded Yin. Dan Heng supposed that would have to do for now.