Archive of Our Own

5th day since boarding the Astral Express

Had breakfast: synthesized dumplings, Xianzhou Luofu-style. I would have preferred something sweeter, like the strawberry tarts you brought back once but the dumplings were good.
Spoke with Shush for a time. You would like its jokes, I think. It is tedious in the telling of them but its sense of humor aligns quite well with yours
Stopped at the Herta Space Station for supplies before making the leap for Amphoreus. Was not able to meet the esteemed Madam Herta, however, Lead Researcher Asta was very hospitable. She appears to be a fan of yours

Sunday sighs, scratching out another line. He gives it a few more seconds of staring at the page before he gives in and sets down his pen. He’ll try again later.

This is supposed to be a log of his journey, not a compilation of letters to Robin. There is a part of his mind and heart that will forever think of her, of course, but the point of this all was to find something for himself. He can’t end up writing to or about his sister page after page. Even if he has no idea what answer he is hoping to find.

At his frustrated sigh, the other occupants of the parlor car--Welt, listening to the interstellar news broadcast, and Himeko, enjoying a strong-smelling cup of coffee--look up. Welt gives him a sympathetic smile, which he’s still unsure how to deal with, but Himeko lifts the hand holding her cup.

“Writer’s block, is it? Fancy a break?” she asks. “Maybe some caffeine is what you need to get your inspiration back.”

As Sunday is trying to think of a way to politely yet firmly decline, the door slides open and he hears a pair of voices calling his name in unison. March 7th and Stelle. When he turns to look in their direction, he also sees Dan Heng following behind them at a more sedate pace.

“There you are!” March exclaims. “We’ve got something important to ask you!”

Behind her, Dan Heng shakes his head.

“Really, really important!” Stelle agrees.

Dan Heng has now proceeded to jerking his thumb across his throat. His face remains entirely deadpan.

“Very well,” says Sunday, confused and more than a little concerned. He puts his notebook away. “How can I help?”

Dan Heng puts his head into his hands.

Stelle bounds over to where he’s seated, standing on the other side of the table. She plants her hands firmly on the desk before leaning forward, looking him in the eye. Her expression reminds him of the time he faced them within Ena’s Dream, and he finds himself sitting up straighter to match her intensity.

And then Stelle asks, “Do halovians hatch from eggs?”

For more than one reason, Sunday is grateful he hadn’t taken Himeko up on her offer. Stelle would likely be wearing some of that coffee now if he had.

“...Pardon?”

There’s a snort of laughter from Himeko’s direction.

“Answer the question,” Stelle says flatly. But then she appears to realize something, her eyes widening. “Or wait,” she says, “is that like, offensive?”

As the Head of the Oak Family, Sunday had rarely found himself at a loss for words. As a passenger of the Astral Express, it’s becoming a far more common occurrence.

“Um,” says March, “if it’s really uncomfortable you don’t have to answer…”

Focus. Sunday centers himself. “I- I suppose it isn’t offensive, per se. I was just. Startled. It’s not a question I hear often.” Or at all, in fact.

“Oh good!” Stelle sighs with relief. “So, yes or no?”

Sunday wonders how his life has come to this point. Then realizes there’s no time to wonder when there’s two pairs of expectant eyes–and three more pairs of amused ones–waiting for his answer. He says, “Yes, halovians hatch from eggs.”

“Wait, seriously?” says Stelle, at the same time that March throws her hands up in the air and shouts, “Hah! Take that! Team Egg gets a new member!”

“...Team Egg,” repeats Sunday.

“Ah,” says Welt. “There was that. Right.”

Utterly lost, Sunday looks to Welt for an explanation. Welt chuckles and takes pity on Sunday, saying, “Sometimes, we turn weekly chores into a competition. Who cleans the windows the best, who trims the plants better, things like that. The larger chores are also team-based. Team Egg was an idea that came up some time ago.”

That explains some things but not others. “And who would be part of Team Egg?”

March and Dan Heng both raise their hands. Sunday blinks. He knows Dan Heng is a Vidyadhara, that part makes sense. But March…

“You also hatched from an egg?” he says cautiously.

“Physically no–I think. But spiritually, yes,” says March buoyantly. “Like, hatching from a hunk of space ice is basically the same thing as hatching from an egg. And I couldn’t let Dan Heng be alone on Team Egg. So now with you, there are three of us versus three of them. It’s perfect! This week’s showdown is going to be Team Egg versus Team Not Egg!”

“Not Egg is such a lame name,” Stelle complains. She looks at Welt and Himeko. “Can’t we come up with something cooler?”

“Oh, I’m quite all right with Not Egg. It is accurate, after all,” says Himeko.

Welt only shrugs.

Stelle pouts. “You guys suck. I should make my own team. I can be on Team Stellaron Hunters.”

Sunday’s eyebrows disappear into his hairline. “Team Stellaron Hunters?”

“Technically, it should be Team Abandoned-On-A-Space-Station-By-The-Stellaron-Hunters,” says Stelle, “but that’s kind of a mouthful, so Team Stellaron Hunters it is.”

Sunday pauses, then says, delicately, “I think you may want to reconsider essentially declaring yourself to be part of the Stellaron Hunters.”

“That’s what we’ve been saying!” says March. She nods vehemently in agreement.

“But they’re so cool!”

“...The Stellaron Hunters are cool. The intergalactic criminals with bounties on them by the IPC. The terrorists and mass murderers. The very same Stellaron Hunters who also apparently abandoned you on a space station?”

“Kafka had her reasons for doing it,” Stelle says defensively.

“It’s no use trying to argue with her,” says Dan Heng. “Stelle keeps a wanted poster of Kafka in her room because she likes to look at it before she goes to sleep.”

“It’s right next to her bed,” March adds.

Stelle suddenly brightens, as if just realizing something. “Oh yeah!” she says. “You haven’t seen my room yet! Come on, I’ll show you my poster!”

He finds himself suddenly dragged along by the arm in the direction of the Party Car. The door opens, and he thinks he just barely sees the Memokeeper fade away like a trick of the light before Stelle has dragged him past the bar and up towards the stairs. Despite his suspicions that it’s futile to protest, he at least has to try: “I think I’m fine without–”

“No you’re not!”

“Oh?” says Shush from behind them, “Shall I prepare a Fast Island Iced Tea for you two? Because you’re both going rather fast, you see, it’s a funny twist on the drink’s name.”

“Shush, Shush!” Stelle calls over her shoulder, and then they burst into Stelle’s room.

She is already excitedly chattering away, pointing out her prized poster with a longing sigh–yes, that is definitely the notorious Kafka of the Stellaron Hunters–and then swiftly moving on to the rest of the room’s contents. The ludicrously large closet, the bed with pillows he vaguely recognizes to be March’s, the bathroom with its bathtub full of pungent red liquid that makes his eyes water, everything in between. He’s vaguely aware of the sound of the others trickling in–chatter in the background, the hum of Himeko starting up the coffee machine, warm laughter.

Sunday still doesn’t know what this all is, what he’s looking for, or where he fits into all this. But, he muses, as he is bodily dragged towards the computers (“I bet I can beat you at Aetherium Wars! You’ve played before, right? No? Ah, well, learn by doing!”), he feels as though this is an answer in itself. If it's not the answer he had originally expected to find, well... That is what Trailblazing is about, he supposes. He'll reach his destination someday. May as well enjoy the journey in the meantime.

Even if he has absolutely no idea how to play Aetherium Wars.