Chapter Text
The nebula shifted, a cosmic ballet of lilac and gold, its swirling gases a symphony of celestial beauty. To any ordinary star-jumper, it was a breathtaking display. To a shinobi of my caliber, it was the ultimate camouflage. I was not a tourist. I was not a traveler. I was a ninja on the most dangerous and delicate reconnaissance mission of my life.
My perch, a nondescript rogue asteroid on the edge of the nebula's gravitational pull, was a testament to my superior stealth. My grip on the smooth, space-worn rock was firm, my body a statue of unshakeable resolve. Before me, floating with an almost mocking serenity, was the floating fortress known as the Astral Express. Its pristine black, white and gold gleamed even in the soft, nebulous light. Its peaceful aura was, to my trained ninja senses, the most dangerous feint of all. It was a "Tranquility Veil"—a deceptive illusion meant to lull a less-seasoned warrior into a false sense of security. I would not be fooled.
My gauntlet, a custom-modified piece of gear with a sleek, glowing interface, hummed softly on my wrist. Its display showed a perfect, non-intrusive, and totally-not-a-stalker-view angle of the Express. Mission Objective: Infiltration and Extraction. Primary Target: Ninja Baseballer Caelus.
My heart, a traitorous drum of pure adrenaline, pounded against my ribs, a loud, frantic beat that threatened to give away my position to the entire cosmos. "Master Kucha warned me of this," I muttered to myself, my voice a low, theatrical whisper. "The ultimate test for a shinobi is not strength or speed, but the patience to wait for the Cosmic Ninja Scrolls to align." The scrolls, of course, were not physical. They were the intricate, unpredictable machinations of the universe, waiting for the perfect moment to reveal themselves. A moment when the navigator of the Express, Himeko, was distracted by a perfect cup of coffee, her mind occupied by the "Obfuscating Bean Jutsu." A moment when her close friend, Welt, was in the middle of a tedious-sounding lecture—a "Boring-Sound Ninjutsu" that, while effective on normal people, was useless against a true ninja mind. The moment when March 7th was taking a selfie—a "Narcissism Clone Jutsu" that consumed her full attention.
And, most importantly, the moment when Ninja Baseballer Caelus looked... a little bit lonely.
It had been... an agonizingly long time since our last "ninja adventure." A lifetime of trials. A century of silent yearning. The last time we had seen each other, we had parted ways in Penacony, a place of dreams that had since become a painful, distant memory. A ninja must not dwell on the past! And yet... the thought of him, his quiet wit and his absolute, unflinching acceptance of my every proclamation, was a distraction I had not anticipated.
Was he training without me? Had he found a new partner for his cosmic mischief? My stomach churned with a nauseous mixture of anxiety and something else, something warm and painful that I refused to acknowledge as "missing him." A shinobi's heart does not ache. It simply awaits the next mission. My hands, normally steady, trembled slightly. This was the "Emotional Shuriken Jutsu," a move designed by my own mind to destabilize me. I must remain focused.
My gaze was locked on the main observation deck of the Express. I could see him. Ninja Baseballer Caelus. He was standing by the railing, staring out into the star-strewn expanse. He wasn't doing anything particularly interesting. He was just... there.
My internal monologue, a chaotic, non-stop broadcast, went into full analytical mode. Initial Observation: Subject is stationary. He is not currently engaged in combat or active exploration. Possible state: "Pre-Mission Melancholy." This is a classic shinobi affliction. My mission parameters just became even more critical.
I zoomed in on his face, my gauntlet's camera providing a high-definition view. His expression was a peaceful, blank mask. To anyone else, it was a sign of a calm, contented individual. To me, it was a "Mask of Inner Turmoil." He was hiding his true feelings. His deep-seated longing for adventure. His unfulfilled desire to smash a trash can with his trusty baseball bat. I knew it. I felt it in my bones. I had to rescue him from this mundane existence.
Just then, a small star in the nebula flickered, its light dancing in a way that almost resembled a tiny, pixelated trash can with a headband. My breath hitched. It was a sign! The universe was telling me something. The Cosmic Ninja Scrolls... they were aligning. The time for passive observation was over. The time for action was now.
But I needed to be sure. A true ninja does not act on a single sign. I needed a second, corroborating omen. A "Confirmation Jutsu."
I kept watching. March 7th floated by Caelus on the observation deck. She pointed out something in the distance. He gave a single, small nod. Analysis: Ninja Baseballer Caelus is feigning interest. A master of the "Diplomatic Nod Jutsu." This is a clear sign that his heart is not truly in this conversation. He craves something more! He craves danger, excitement, and a partner in crime!
Next, Dan Heng passed by, a book in hand. He stopped for a moment, and seemed to ask Caelus a question. Caelus gave a single, small shrug. Analysis: He is using the "Aloof Shoulder Technique," a high-level jutsu to deflect unwanted conversation. It is a subtle cry for help! A call only a fellow shinobi can hear!
My heart was now beating so fast it felt like a tiny hummingbird was trapped in my chest. The evidence was overwhelming. My gauntlet, now in "Infiltration Mode," flashed a series of red lights. The time was now. The moment was perfect. The universe had spoken.
"This is it," I whispered, pressing a series of buttons on my gauntlet. "Initiating 'Dazzling Infiltration Jutsu'."
My ship, a small, sleek vessel I had painted myself with neon graffiti and a truly impressive amount of glitter, was cloaked in the nebula. I engaged the stealth systems, which were essentially just a series of mirrors and a whole lot of colorful smoke. From my perspective, I was now completely invisible. To anyone on the Express, they were about to see a small, sparkling object with horns and bright pink hair careening toward them at an alarming rate.
My internal monologue, a constant, panicked chatter, went into mission briefing mode. Alright, Rappa. This is it. The most important mission of your entire life. You are to approach the Astral Express, bypass their "Tranquility Veil" without being detected—HA!—and execute the "Friendship Liberation Jutsu." This involves a dramatic entrance, a swift snatch-and-go, and a cool exit. Remember, your objective is not just to see him again, it's to save him from a life of boredom. You will not fail.
I reached for the controls, my hands a steady blur of motion. The ship began to hum, preparing for launch. I felt a surge of energy, the kind of boundless confidence that only a ridiculous plan can bring. My true feelings, the real reason I was doing this, were locked away in a tiny, secure mental safe, labeled "DO NOT OPEN UNTIL MISSION COMPLETE." All that mattered right now was the mission. The heist. The "liberation."
A stray piece of space debris, a discarded, broken coffee pot from some long-forgotten starship, floated past my viewport. I smiled. Even the universe was giving me coffee-related signs. This was meant to be.
I closed my eyes for a single, focused moment, a final act of meditation before the chaos. The image of Ninja Baseballer Caelus, his quiet smile, his calm eyes, filled my mind. I was a ninja. He was a hero. We were meant to be on this adventure together. I was going to make sure of it.
With a final, decisive push of the launch button, I launched my ship out of the nebula, a trail of shimmering, colorful smoke in my wake. The Astral Express was in my sights. The "Friendship Liberation Mission" was a go. The cosmic ninja scrolls had indeed aligned. I'm coming, Ninja Baseballer Caelus. I'm coming.