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Exhausted from the tuning, Sunday felt he should head back to the Express for a good rest.
Stelle. Blade got it even worse, but they succeeded. He knows he did too. He did not fall head first into the ground this time, and the sunset was bright and hot in his cheeks. It was not a dream. With profound relief, he turned around and knew nothing of this would happen if not because of everyone.
Seeing them gathered tight reminds him of how grand the feat they just did, and how it saved hundreds of thousands of people. His heart was warm and so were his regards to the Stellaron Hunter.
The Phantasmoon Games are not over yet. General Yao Guang’s prophecy may turn out to be optimistic, but the arcadia’s canvas is vast and an unknown force still threatens to smear the walls with the colors of woe. Something he needs to see through.
When the cast momentarily stepped apart, Sunday let his mind wander. The universe is truly full of wonders. He previously hoped for a world free from pain and tried to shape Penacony in ways he only knew but twisted him. It was ironic that with the same power of tuning, he just defended a world’s right to suffer.
The same power he wielded to gather thousands of minds, now amplified by The Laughter knows how much. It’s the same power, but somehow, the pain slowly crawling in his head, the growing numbness in his limbs and the need to catch his breath says he may have gone too far.
It’s fear and all suffering. Not hopeful wishes to wake a god.
And it was twice the number.
Something dark and warm dripped across his lips. He swiftly swiped this off with the insides of his sleeve as he shifted a foot to balance himself. Ah - this must be the foolish part. His body reminded him once he started to settle down.
Like Ena’s Dream, tasting like sweet wine, the sounds of the Order intoxicating. His body dissolved in the process of ascension, and was shattered, his pieces - his dreams, everything fell lost in the dreamscape. But he did not lose anything this time. In fact, he still sees everyone in his blurring vision.
He was not in the dark, and no one is going to take Dan Heng, Miss Himeko and Stelle away like they did with Robin. Yet, the toll on his body is awfully familiar.
He straightens up in time before Stelle walks up to him, hiding a small sigh in a smile, “I never imagined tuning could be so fatiguing.” he says.
When he sees the slight worry in her face, he quickly adds “Fortunately, I succeeded.”
“Are you okay?” he knew she would still ask. At this point, he was no longer sure.
The edges darken around his companion. He tries to focus on her golden eyes. He needs to stop his body from relaxing as he senses cotton in his tongue, “I’m fine.” he answers before it feels numb. He forces to share his thoughts about the tuning and how he felt less alone.
Speaking helps. It continues to distract him from the faint echoes filling in his head, sneaking in gulps to keep talking.
“What are you going to do next?” Stelle is curious. He's glad that she has not noticed anything off.
Rest. He needs to lie down. “I think it's time I headed back to the Express for a rest.” he says, he has been away from the Express for a while now too. While investigating within the ranks of the Research Society of Happy Smiles, he admits that he has not updated everyone too much as well. “I've got a feeling I'm in for a lecture from Mr. Yang.”
Stelle chuckles at the thought. He did too, he owes everyone a lot.
“Sometime soon, I plan to pay my respects to the fallen of the Synwish Syndicate. I want to tell Polwave that I've fulfilled his request.” he adds and Stelle nods.
“See you on the Express, Sunny.”
“See you on the Express.”
Welt rises up in his seat the moment he hears the Express doors open, March also follows in his stride. He unconsciously counts the people who came in: Himeko, Dan Heng and Sunday - Stelle is nowhere around.
“Everyone! You guys worried us so much!” March jumps in to greet everyone, getting a hug from Himeko, “We can only see you on the big screen and there are abominations everywhere! You all just faced a final boss again and - “
Everything happened in a fast blur. Sunday’s figure that he could see in the corner of his eye changed, catching his full attention. A golden aura produced from the Express lights hitting his halo descends rapidly, and something heavy comes crashing on the floor.
Sunday. Out of breath and seizing. Welt forgets all his years and is immediately beside him, tilting his frame to a side. Sunday’s eyes roll at the back of his head, strangled gasps are coming out of his lips and his body rigid as steel.
“What’s happening to him?” Welt asks no one, he is focused on Sunday’s ashen face, his hands gently cradling his cheek, “Is he hurt somewhere?”
“It must have been the tuning.” he hears Dan Heng answer, recognizing his presence beside Sunday, supporting him, “But we were uncertain that it would cause something like this.”
Welt’s mind suddenly whirled back to Sunday’s earlier tuning. He remembers him asking everyone to offer up their fear, for a certain warrior. He is still yet to learn about what exactly happened. He cannot shake the feeling that it was something risky. Welt holds onto Sunday, hoping it’s not too bad.
When Sunday finally stops shaking, he pulls him up to his chest, slightly propping him up with his knee while embracing his face. “Sunday. Sunday!” he calls out, gently tapping his cheek, “Are you alright? Please speak.”
Sunday’s eyes slowly open, revealing dull unfocused eyes.
“...Mister Yang..” he says too softly, and it breaks his heart, “I’m…”
Dark blood leaks from his nose in a slow rivulet. Sunday seems to lose all light and goes too limp in his arms. A hand, Himeko’s, is fast to press a napkin above the Halovian’s lips, brushing a stray hair off his face.
“Let’s get him to his room. Quick.” Himeko’s voice is tense and serious. Welt finds strength and lifts Sunday into his arms. He frowns, as the kid shouldn’t be this light. He shouldn’t be in this kind of situation at all.
“Woah, woah. Woah!” Stelle suddenly appears out of nowhere and is trying to get a better look of Sunday who has passed out again, “What happened!?”
“Come with us.” Welt calmly says, entering the carriage doors opened by March then Dan Heng, careful not to bump Sunday’s head into any doorframe.
Stelle must have realized what happened as she obeys at their side, “Hang in there, Sunny!” she cries.
Hang in there.
With the help of Welt and Dan Heng, Sunday is changed to his most simplest clothing of a white shirt and light blue lounge shorts. He lies on his bed fragile, head slightly propped by some pillows. His wing rests lifelessly beside his cheek and the other is somehow folded awkwardly. A light grayish-blue bird stuffed toy which resembles him sits in the middle of his arm, a comforting addition specially arranged by March.
Himeko is sitting at the edge of his bed, fingertips pressed closely to his neck. Sunday looks very pale in contrast to the Navigator’s presence. There is an uneven rise and fall in his chest, that brings everyone on edge, watching and waiting for anything.
“His vitals are mostly stable, but his heart rate is still too fast.” Himeko states, fingers still probing pulse, “We could monitor him.. but I’m afraid of other things.”
“What do you mean? Is he going to be okay?” March takes a couple steps nearer, kneeling beside Himeko and Sunday.
Himeko pulls away, removing her latex gloves, “I’m scared to admit that I’m not entirely sure.”
“Given the cause of his sudden condition, we have not enough knowledge of what other things that could happen. It is possible that he is just truly exhausted, or it could be a fatal reaction that we do not have any idea about.”
The silence grows heavier in seconds, creating a dire, suffocating air.
Himeko breaks this, helps March up and walks to the bedside table containing the Express medkit. The crew is now inadvertently facing one another in a circle.
“We do not know what this power from the Harmony actually feels and does to the tuner, and if the nature of the target has any effect on it.”
“The target surely has an effect on the host. We have seen this before with Wonweek.” Welt explains, sending a gesture to Stelle.
Stelle nods, “I remember that. He passed out trying to tune Tingyun, who has remnants of the Destruction in her body.”
“And those were just fragments? What of now?” March inquires, her voice goes a tone higher.
“What exactly did he tuned earlier?” Welt’s voice matches the urgency, pointing his question to Stelle and Dan Heng.
“Shuhu’s flesh, fifteen years of fear and desires..” Dan Heng slowly answers, “From over two hundred thousand people of Planarcadia.”
The room sank immediately.
“This is bad.” Stelle shudders, taking a look at everyone, “Don’t we need to take him to a hospital?”
“But could there be doctors who know about tuning here in Planarcadia?” March’s voice is now close to breaking.
Stelle demands, “We need a Halovian doctor.”
Dan Heng shakes his head, “We can’t just leave now. Similar to Stelle as a Supplicant, I believe Sunday is reinforced by the Phantasmoon mask, leaving now will only weaken the power he gets from the Elation.”
“But if the mask amplified his abilities based on Wishpower, shouldn’t it be enough to perform tuning with such a large scale?”
“We are forgetting that this is Shuhu’s consciousness we are talking about. A millenia old, corrupted cells of an Emanator of Abundance, while the mask’s power could only and technically be considered as borrowed strength.”
Stelle brings her hands to her head, “We should at least do something!”
“Let’s contact Robin.” Welt suggests, making the crew pause, “If there’s anyone who knows Sunday, his wellbeing and tuning better than anyone, that person is her.”
The crew decides to take turns watching over a dear companion.
Before the crew split, Himeko used her network in Planarcadia to covertly get a medical team aboard the Express to monitor Sunday’s condition. They are a great team, having everything automated from medication administration and maintenance, situated several minutes away from the station in case of, hopefully not, emergencies.
But they still lack Halovian knowledge. Himeko has not rested well, working with her contacts to search for one welcoming and nearby while avoiding any members of The Family for any complications.
Dan Heng has his papers and a Data Bank tablet set up on a nearby study table. He did not hesitate to volunteer first, he thought that it’d be best they handle networking.. and Robin. They are behind in logs from the events of the Phantasmoon Games after all.
Yet he stares at his draft blankly, trying to grasp on proper words to type in. Dan Heng keeps glancing at Sunday and the holographic display above him. Heart rate, still fast. Blood pressure, somehow low. Still within the normal threshold. He does not favor the amount of wires stuck in his body, but they say it helps. Dan Heng chooses to look away again.
He cannot bear to see anyone hurt or lose them, not after he thought he had lost Stelle back in Amphoreus. Sunday has been a close friend, whom he shared a similar past they turned away from. A position, a mistake, but a reason to chase the Nameless. With all the resolve he got, the more he faithfully promises to protect everyone and this place he calls home, where Sunday also is.
A golden light catches his eye and it leads him to Sunday again, as if it beckons him. Dan Heng stands and gets close to the Halovian, still unmoving, yet with the halo he seems to be admiring a celestial figurine. Paler than before, face like flawlessly sculpted marble, asking for help.
Purple holographic waves surround his vision. He knows that his species are capable of this, but what does it mean? Dan Heng is caught at the mercy of his sight and he thinks Sunday is telling him -
“He’s failing.” Dan Heng reports in his earpiece as several warnings pop up in the air, status alarms blaring. Sunday’s halo flickers as it loses energy, numbers drop and the golden light falters.
He pulled a blanket up his shoulders, tugs it firmly and whispered, “Hang on, Sunday.” before sprinting out of the room. Dan Heng timely runs into March who is running towards his direction.
“Have they reached Robin yet?” Dan Heng asks, panting.
March shakes her head, “Not yet. We tried to contact her or any of her staff, but they’re in production. We could only send a voicemail.”
Dan Heng sighs, frowning, “Sunday is not looking too good. I’m getting Himeko. Make sure he stays warm.” he says before heading to the Parlor car.
“Got it.” March continues running until she reaches Sunday’s cabin.
“Administered vasopressors.” A voice in one of the displays says. March waves the notice away and sits beside Sunday. She is instantly entranced by his halo, now burning larger and brighter. It tells her to come closer. She places a hand on his arm, while it captures her full attention and feels her patience could go forever.
March knows that it is tuning, it’s something that Halovians do. Just looking at Sunday, she starts to feel exhausted inside, her heart is hurting, longing for something, something she doesn’t know but she wants to cry and reach out for it. She cannot pull away from the feeling, so she just listens carefully, having to close her eyes.
“Robin..?” she hears.
Sunday finally moves, she sees him turn his head from left to right restlessly. When he stops, he tries to look at her face directly and almost fails. His eyes shed a single tear before they close again.
“Robin..” he says her name again, very softly.
“Hey, don’t cry..” but March feels like crying too. She gently wipes the tears off Sunday’s cheeks.
“When you get better, we’ll get some sweets from Pom-Pom and bug them into getting the piano up there. So, continue to rest up, okay?”
Slowly slipping back into sleep, Sunday manages to answer.
“I will..”
March feels a weight taken off her chest and lets out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. When her hand brushed through her cheek, she realized that they were also wet with tears, and used her sleeve to wipe them off. She knows Sunday was bad that he got nerfed for some parts of this.. but it hurts. It hurt just to be in his shoes. She doesn’t want anything that hurts.
She grabs the Sundove plush that fell on the floor and tucks it firmly inside Sunday’s arm again. Here, you’ll never be alone again. We’ll make sure of that.
[DATA BANK]
Astral Express/Confidential/Communications/Saved Transcripts
TRANSCRIPT_ROBIN_2158XX-234458.VTT
Planarcadia, Consternation Starzone
AE 2158 XX | 23:44:58
(00:03.78) Robin: “Good evening, everyone.” [Shuffling sound] “I apologize for being direct - How is he?”
(00:11.35) Welt: “Still unconscious. March said he woke up a little, but it could be delirium. Before that, according to our private medical team, he went into something similar to a neurogenic shock. He quickly recovered after general medication.”
(00:28.61) Himeko: “We are concerned because he has not regained consciousness for five system hours. We tried to search for Halovian physicians nearby, but most of them are connected with The Family.”
(00:39.89) Himeko: “We are aware of the current situation between your faction and Sunday, so for his sake, we ultimately chose to direct this to you first.”
(00:52.20) Robin: “I understand. I’m really sorry I wasn’t able to get back to you sooner. Oh..” [Deep shaky breath] “You said that his condition was most likely caused by tuning during the Phantasmoon Games, may I know what happened?”
(01:10.42) Robin: “More importantly, what is the nature of the target?”
(01:15.53) Welt: “Well..” [Inaudible whispering] “He, uhm..” [Shuffling sounds]
(01:23.67) Welt: “It was.. rather reckless. People of the Planarcadia were embedded with cells of Shuhu, an Emanator of the Abundance, which still retains consciousness to this day. These cells acted collectively to be a single hive-mind, as one Supplicant.”
(01:43.10) Welt: “The people who underwent this surgery either lived in fear, anxiety and emptiness for fifteen years due to an incident, and desired to stay elated.”
(01:55.97) Welt: “To stop the infected people from turning into abominations, another one of their companions who already harbors a piece of Shuhu, brought up that if they gather all flesh and blood into his body, he could contain it as a vessel and command it at will.
(02:38.72) Welt: “This would require him to wrestle with the consciousness of Shuhu. So Sunday, with his abilities amplified by the Elation, used an enhanced tuning to extract and concentrate all scattered cells across Planarcadia and helped contain it.”
(02:44.81) Robin: “How.. How many infected people were there?”
(02:49.48) Welt: “There were approximately over two hundred thousand citizens.”
(03:00.23) Welt: “..Miss Robin?”
(03:05.77) Welt: “I’m sorry, I know it’s hard to hear.”
(03:11.86) Welt: “I couldn’t really fathom it, at first, and I was mad.”
(03:20.04) Welt: “What Sunday did was just his biggest step into Trailblazing.”
(03:44.74) Robin: “I’m glad..” [Sniffles] “I’m happy to hear that he wasn’t physically harmed or anything more than that. If he was, I couldn’t ever..” [Small sniffle, deep happy sigh] “He was so strong! I wish I was able to see it. That was so cool of him.”
(04:02.67) Himeko: “Do you mean he’s safe from harm?”
(04:06.61) Robin: “Yes. But it’s still a very foolish move. I hold concerts in worlds stricken by war and calamity, and even if I use the smallest amount of tuning to a hundred thousand worth of attendees, those tours were always the most exhausting.”
(04:26.12) Robin: “You could think of tuners as a pipe carrying water. The greater the pressure may break the host, while the purest of waters can pass with most ease. Since we were young, his tuning abilities are far greater than mine, and we are both capable of serving as a Chordmaster.”
(04:33.31) Robin: “I think he’s just going to feel very sick and worn out.”
(04:45.12) Robin: “The cursed flesh, fear and negative emotions are like poison, while the number of targets would put him to sleep for days.”
(04:54.74) Himeko: “That’s really relieving to know Miss Robin. We were so worried about Sunday..”
(05:01.43) Robin: “I’m sure you really were, I hope you could be at ease for now.”
(05:04.76) Robin: “I forgot to say that he still might experience a severe migraine from the rebound. I’ll send you a prescription from my physician in a moment. Please have him take it and I’m sure he’ll feel better soon.”
(05:19:43) Welt: “Thank you very much Miss Robin. We couldn’t be more grateful for your help.”
(05:26.32) Robin: “You’re all welcome, everyone.. I really, really appreciate you letting me know about this.”
(05:36.15) Robin: “Thank you for taking good care of my brother.”
(05:52.52) Robin: “Please tell him to not push himself too hard.. I know he’s very stubborn.”
[Laughter]
(06:01.64) Robin: “May you all be blessed with pleasant dreams.”
(06:06.53) Welt: “You too Miss Robin, take care.”
[ END ]
Sunday felt like he slept for two decades. His room ceiling in the Express slowly came into view, not knowing where he came from. He was not sure, so he turned to look at his left and the room spun along with it. A figure - with red hair, Miss Himeko gradually formed in his sight and he felt a small relief.
“Hey..” her voice blends in and out of the Express’ familiar hum, why is it too loud? “..Sunday?” he tries to snap out of the daze he’s in, gently squeezing his eyes shut. She asked a question, he needed to answer, but the darkness kept swirling, and swirling. He couldn’t stop.
“M-Miss Himeko.” he hoped he was able to say her name, preferably with urgency. Something popped in the right side of his head, pouring hot white liquid inside his brain - He groaned loud, tasted bitter in his mouth akin to pungent rotten flesh, the scent of Joy Ascendants, a hundred thousand cries, mocking laughter and Shuhu.
Like poison.
Sunday shot up in the bed, spilling everything out of his mouth. All burned. Immense pain wrapped like vines around his lungs, squeezing out air as thorns crushed his skull. He desperately sucked air back in, but the sweet rotten scent enveloped him and his stomach twisted. He doubled over, releasing wet strings of the vile matter one more time. And another. Until he was left with nothing but a beating pain above his eye.
He felt that someone was holding him, still Miss Himeko probably. He was leaning on a bucket with a deep, muted shade of burgundy splattered inside. Oh.. He was gently pushed back into bed, weak like a doll, breathing heavily. Too drained for anything. Miss Himeko started to appear clearer, dissonant sounds a bit softer and the scent even farther.
Miss Himeko wiped a cloth to his lips, revealing a red wine-like stain. She kept it in a fold.
“How are you feeling now, Sunday?” her voice was music, ushering him towards sanity.
His head was still throbbing, but after expelling whatever he did, he felt like he could try speaking.
“My -” he coughed when it sounded too hoarse, “My head aches terribly, Miss Himeko.”
“That is expected.” She turned to get something small and a glass full of water sitting at the bedside table, and reached out, “Here.” She placed a pill in his lips, and he took it. His hands were shaking when Himeko helped him hold the glass. He drank from it carefully, slowly, until he rapidly chugged the glass empty.
Exhaling, Sunday felt his shoulders drop for a moment. It was invigorating but cruelly short-lived. He clawed at the searing pain in his head and screwed his eyes shut as the Express lights tore through his vision like sharp blades, forcing him to writhe and cry out.
“I’m here. I got you, it’s alright.” Miss Himeko said, he felt the lights go out in a few seconds. Later, cool, soft hands caressed his hair. A cold bag was pressed around his head tenderly. He focused and leaned into the sensation like a child, the darkness and this cold solace sending waves of sweet relief to his tired body.
He could now fall asleep again in any second, so he allowed himself to rest for a little more while.
He knew he was deep into sleep, so Welt was taken aback to see Sunday in the Express hallways. As if a child caught in mischief, the Halovian is looking up at him with startled eyes and mouth slightly agape. Since the last couple of hours, he has surely regained some of his color, but still too pale to be standing around in his opinion.
He might have realized that it’s obvious he needed the wall beside him to bear his own weight, as Sunday takes his arm away and slowly, politely hides his arms behind his back. Welt only had one question -
“What are you doing out here?”
Sunday looks down, embarrassed. He suddenly holds the wall again to steady himself and Welt was quick to help. When he meets his eyes again, he sends the kid a long, knowing look.
“Sorry, Mister Yang. I was.. feeling a little hungry.”
“I just left to get you a meal from Pom-Pom. You still don’t look well enough to walk.”
“I know, but..”
“You might trip and fall. Come on, let’s get you back to your room.”
“Mister Yang.” With barely enough strength, Sunday resists his attempt to walk back to his room.
“What is it?” Welt asks.
“Can you help me sit in the Party Car?”
The Party Car is a lot of steps from here, Welt contemplated. But Sunday’s still a little quiet, someone who does not ask anything too often. This is one of his very few requests which he would consider as something rare. “Sure. Hold on to me tight.” he answers without further hesitation, and allows Sunday to cling on his back.
By the time they reach the Party Car, Welt helps him settle into the nearest booth, almost slipping off his arms when he tries to sit. Once the young man’s back made contact with the couch, he fully leaned onto it, shutting his eyes longer as he seemed to wave off unwanted symptoms.
Welt observed him carefully, and after a few minutes, Sunday spoke.
“Thank you.. Mister Yang.”
He could not see his face well, until he slightly turned his head to face him. Eyebrows knit and troubled, Sunday clenches his jaw, releasing a soft deep breath.
“When I first fell in the dreamscape, I was left alone..” he started, a voice barely above a whisper. He looks down on his palms. Welt notices a small tremor in them.
“Robin was taken away from my arms.” he brings his hands around him, hugging himself, “It was cold.. and dark. They dragged me with rough hands, and no one tended to my broken bones.”
“All that was waiting for me was death.” Sunday’s eyes faintly shimmered with unshed tears, looking afar. Welt cannot help but think that he looked so young in this light, several years younger than when he first opened up back in Penacony. Like a little kid, saying words that sounded too far.
“Just now, I was able to feel everyone’s care.” His laugh was bitter, harsh to hear, “It’s hilarious, I cannot remember the last time I received such grace. For the longest time, I thought that I did not need one.”
“I’m thinking that I am unworthy of it all, that I owe you all so much “ Sunday says, a familiar chilling tone wrapping his voice, “I could have endured it all alone.”
Welt grabs him by his shoulder, “That’s not true -”
“- I promise. I hope to repay you for everything you have done for me. I’ll make myself worthwhile.”
“No, Sunday. Stop.” Welt now holds both of his arms, with little force Sunday was completely facing him. But he is not looking back and the shadows hide his vacant, tear-rimmed eyes.
“You don’t have to say any of this.”
Welt tries to steady his own voice, “I, we saved you because you deserve it. No matter how useful or empty you were, we will always have a place for you. Just as the stars have for all of us.”
“There are tough times where you will forget this, but I’ll remind you about it.”
Sunday rests his forehead on his shoulder, a gentle surrender. Welt keeps him stable in a half embrace. Hands buried in his hair, he gives his head a few pats.
“You have been very brave and strong. It is only natural that we take care of you.” Welt continues, “As Himeko said, it’s alright to be a kid sometimes. You are part of this family.”
Welt hopes it was easier. He hopes he could just hold them together, easily put pieces back when they fall apart. But he knows it doesn’t work that way. He can no longer wipe away tears that have long dried or steady their form when they already got the scars. Just because he understands does not mean he could make it better.
But what lies ahead matters now, he will be there for everyone who needs and calls for him.
“It was just very warm.. Everyone was waiting.” Tears seeps into his shoulder, Welt feels it, and lets Sunday pour them all.
“Is he okay!?” Something squeaks, “Oh - !”
Pom-Pom waddles close, a group of Little Robots following them behind, each carrying a food dome. Sunday sits up when he recognizes the Conductor, and hides a part of his face with his wings. He quickly wipes his tears away inside.
“Passenger Sunday! You just made Pom-Pom very worried about you.” Pom-Pom is fuming, Welt just smiles. He can imagine cartoon fumes coming out of their ears.
Sunday also smiles, looking shy, “I apologize, Conductor.”
Pom-Pom stomps their tiny feet, “Eat!” they point to him, and the robots set off, lining up all food on the table. Their lids are taken off, revealing a cosmic feast ranging from a warm comforting broth, to Penaconian food truck specialties and pudding tarts. Welt can swear the remaining tears now look like stars in Sunday’s eyes.
“I heard what you did. You were incredible!” Pom-Pom beams up on Sunday who froze up, “I know that the Trailblaze does risky stuff sometimes. But never, never ever take yourself lightly. Reach out if you need anything, okay?”
“Yes, Conductor.” Sunday says politely, bowing his head.
“I know you are a big fan of tea. So, I made you a pot here.” Pom-Pom places a sleek, vibrant tea pot and its matching cup in front of Sunday, “I hope you feel better fast!”
And he does. Sunday knew it was getting better when he was delicately brought into wakefulness. Still a bit groggy, he realized that he was still sitting in the same Party Car couch and a thick blanket was wrapped over his back. The side of his head is resting onto someone’s shoulder, someone familiar.
“I heard you ate well. That’s great.”
It was Stelle, playing a game on her phone in landscape. Sunday sees that it’s an open-world one, where she needs to focus on the character’s nearby enemies. Wary about getting lightheaded, Sunday remained still on Stelle’s shoulder as she played for a minute.
“Do you wanna lie down? Aren’t you feeling stiff out here?”
Lying down sounds good. Sunday carefully sits up and is relieved that the Party Car did not spin, he wraps the blanket tighter around him. The table is now clean. Outside, the station is quiet, clear from raging fans. It looks liminal, serene. But too bad that he cannot see the stars from here.
“You fell asleep after eating, if that’s what you’ll be asking.”
Sunday shakes his head, “I felt it coming.”
Stelle had paused the game, she smooths out a strand above his head and inspected his face, “You should lie down. I’m catching up on an event, so..” she lifts her phone.
“Are you good with crashing upstairs, Sunny?” She flashes a grin, and later gets pleading eyes, “Please?”
“Oh.” Sunday is not sure if he still may be half asleep or simply does not understand where the question is going, “I could just return to my cabin, right?” he tries to suggest.
“Nope, that doesn’t sound right. Come upstairs tonight.” She insists kindly, her tone drops a step lower that makes her more reassuring. Sunday had no choice but to nod.
“Dan Heng.” Stelle calls out, and Sunday does not realize that he has been standing near the staircase the whole time. Dan Heng straightens up from being leaned on the railing and walks to them. He sends him a confused look.
Dan Heng returned an amused face back at him, he shrugged his shoulders. He raised both hands up in the air, as if he just surrendered.
Sunday’s footsteps were light, he did not need to drag his feet in each step like how he did - just how much time has passed? He thinks, or maybe both Stelle and Dan Heng’s grip on him was assuring, secure and helped him balance himself. They climbed up the former storage room with ease. He still does not understand why he has to sleep here though.
They were greeted by a cool air, one with a comforting fragrance of fabric. Soft neon lights from the multi-screen computer and gold from the collection shelves creates an appealing, homey glow. At the center of the room, there’s a huge bed fort. About knee height, countless pillows and plush toys makes it a cloud-like sanctuary.
Yet Dan Heng turns around, Sunday gets a pat on the shoulder from him as he walks out of the room. Stelle immediately stops him, “Dan Heng. Where are you going?” she questioned.
“Back to the archives. Why?” he answers.
Someone sang aloud, “You’re not going back there~!” March barges into the room, her face covered by a bundle of pillows and blankets that resemble the color Dan Heng always wore. Is it his things?
“Did you steal my pillows?” Dan Heng remains at the door while March proceeds to set up his stuff up in the far left part of the bed fort.
Stelle then grabs Sunday’s shoulders and he finds himself steered forward, now sitting lost in the middle of the large bed.
March replies, “Yeah, the data bank can handle itself for one night. Besides, we’ve done this before.”
“But we haven’t got Sunny into this yet. With all that happened, I think it’s just valid that three more pairs of eyes are gonna watch over him.” Stelle is looking at him with a rather smug, playful grin.
Sunday makes a small, timid laugh, “I don’t think that’s entirely necessary, let him go guys. It’s fine, really.”
Dan Heng slowly closes the door behind his back.
“Seriously now.” Sunday says. It looks like this is the only fate he can accept tonight.
“Alright guys, our special Nameless Initiation Rites will officially begin!” March jumps into the fort, landing close to Sunday’s left. Stelle joins in and curls up on his right. He freezes, until he sees Dan Heng also drawing close next to Stelle.
Sunday asks, “What does that even mean? What will you guys be doing?”
March shrugs, “Well, I don’t really know. It’s our first time getting a passenger who actually tried to walk the Path of the Trailblaze." She sounds really happy.
The series of excitement and movement sends a rush to his head and makes him a bit dizzy. Sunday leans back to ease this and gets a better view of his three companions.
“Sunny.” Stelle says her affectionate nickname again, he has started to get used to it and cannot even remember why he was bothered in the first place. “I’m really proud of you. I’m sure Mister Yang and Miss Himeko do too.”
“Second to Blade’s actions, what you did was really risky, Sunday.” Dan Heng adds, his arms hugging his knees, “Detective Ashveil even pointed that out.”
Stelle frowns, “Hey. I actually got slashed in the chest too, y’know!? Where is my special mention?”
“We don’t see that now, do we? Your Stellaron was a hack!” March points at Stelle, accusative.
“Fine.” Stelle dives beside Sunday, now lying closer to him, “I still delivered the final blow to Fulwish though. Wouldn’t that still make me in the Top 3?”
“Arguably, I think the stars of this battle are Blade and Sunday.”
“Dan Heng!!” Stelle cries, pushing Dan Heng away. Sunday laughs.
As this warm, comforting time stretches on, Sunday feels the weariness coming back, but in a slow and gentle way. His eyelids grow heavy.
“Thank you everyone.” he says.
“Aww. He’s still too formal.” March coos, props her head on the pillow next to him, “Are you feeling alright?”
“Yeah. I just thought there are no other reasons why I would not do it.” Sunday recalls, “The situation was dire. It was the only right thing to do, and it is something that I can.”
Stelle sniffs and amusingly bawls over, “That just screams Trailblaze to me.”
“Ugh. Just stop fake crying will you?” March snaps and throws a cushion at her. Sunday finds it really funny.
Stelle shakes her head, still fake sobbing, “He could just replace me as the Express baby, I don’t care anymore..”
“But you were aware of its consequences, right?” Dan Heng truly knows how to make things serious, or rather, de-escalate situations between the two, “You know what would happen if you fail to control everyone’s consciousness.”
“I do.” Sunday knows that if he failed to weave all thoughts fast enough, it could only be a complete loss of sanity for him and death. Also, “Shuhu might awaken and it would be even more catastrophic.” which he decides to say.
There was a brief moment of silence. A chance for waves of fatigue to come and overwhelm him. Sunday exhales softly and closes his eyes, slowly drifting off.
“I know that it surpasses my limits. But apart from what I sought, we were very fortunate.” he says.
“That makes me mad.” March’s voice sounds resentful, “You really offered yourself up.”
“How could you stop him if he was actually glowing in your eyes, like a character before laying down himself for the sake of humanity, saying, ‘Mr. Ashveil, there will always be people who do stupid things.’” Stelle imitates, even deepening her voice for the act.
Dan Heng agrees, his voice starts to sound far away, “Right. Stelle and I had no choice but to just exchange looks.”
“You guys are all crazy!” March yells.
“Sunday, we might be a little annoying sometimes, but you are stuck with us forever!”
Sunday hears laughter, but he could only smile, as slumber tugs him in peacefully.
There were voices underwater, but they were too deep and far to be real. It could be a dream.
“When the time comes, and you found the place that you’re looking for.. Are you really going to leave us and the Express?”
“And he just slept on us. Great!”
“You know he’s tired. Let him sleep.”
“We’ve got plenty of time to ask him that.”
Himeko has been thinking about it for the longest time now. In this Path, no one can ever decide the final stop, as it is a long journey towards the unknown. Passengers come and go, and leave wonderful memories with the Express. And Sunday is one of them. Since the events in Amphoreus, she has long considered him a companion of the Trailblaze, walking through the Path this whole time.
There’s a long road ahead of him. Like other passengers, she indeed hopes Sunday can reach his desired destination. Yet a small part of her knows that everyone yearns for him to stay even longer. An even number, another player in chess, someone with a sweet tooth and good taste in records. A true part of the Astral Express family, nothing temporary.
But doesn’t he genuinely look like one now? When the time comes, all could only wish for him to not go.
Himeko is met by the endearing view of the four, all curled up to one another.
She silently treads the way to their makeshift slumber kingdom and kneels next to March. Himeko takes the stuffed bunny that had rolled off her arms to nestle it in her arms again. She knows young girls weep for their fallen plush warriors in the morning.
Himeko takes a look at Sunday next, sleeping peacefully this time, without any hints of pain or discomfort tainting in his features. She pulls out a holographic tablet with Sunday’s vitals, figures they might not need anymore. She closes this and instead, runs a hand on his forehead, feeling for fever or anything unusual.
Dan Heng, the ever-light sleeper of the Express, suddenly sits up and looks at everyone through squinted eyes with an unusual pace. When he felt that nothing was off, he lies back down on the bed. Himeko keeps a laugh to herself.
“Is he feeling alright?” Dan Heng asks while his eyes are closed.
“Yes. I’m just checking in on all of you.” Himeko moves over and fixes Dan Heng’s blanket, tucking him back again. ”Go back to sleep.”
“Okay..” he says, and goes straight to it.
Himeko spots a glowing object under Stelle’s figure. Her phone, still emitting an upbeat game soundtrack, was left in her hand. She shuts this off and moves it to a safer place, reaching for a nearby charging platform.
She observes the young ones for a moment. When everyone appears proper and comfortable, she stands up and walks to the door.
Himeko looks back at them one last time, all bundled up, snuggled warm and sleeping, before she flips more of the lights off. Tomorrow, she promises herself that she will brew coffee for everyone, gather them in the Party Car, and listen to records. Savoring every second they can spend together in between saving worlds.
For now, she carefully slides the door close, wishing nothing but the kids a most restful, sweetest dream.