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"Hello, Pom-Pom! I am Pom-Pom, the Conductor of the Astral Express. Welcome aboard the Train, Pom-Pom!"
Inside the Astral Express's Observation Car, Kenta was following a neatly dressed, rabbit-like creature on a tour. After being put to sleep three times yesterday—once by a baseball bat and twice by Himeko's lethal brew—he had finally woken up. With some help from the others, he had finally sorted out his current situation.
In short: he had been kidnapped by a gray raccoon with a bat and was now an official, albeit somewhat concussed, member of the Trailblazers.
"Yay! Kenta! Now you can go on adventures with us!" March 7th chirped from his side. She was practically vibrating with excitement, her face beaming with the kind of joy usually reserved for a multi-rare pull in a gacha game.
"March 7th, Passenger! Do not interrupt the Conductor, Pom-Pom!" The small creature huffed. Pom-Pom was trying its best to maintain the dignity of its office, but because it was essentially a fluff-ball in a tiny uniform, the effect was more "adorable" than "authoritative."
Kenta looked at Pom-Pom's large, swaying ears and felt a primal urge to investigate. Is that... a lop-eared rabbit? he wondered. Without thinking, his hand moved on its own.
"Over there is the Data Bank. Dan Heng usually stays there, and you can get any information you—Eek! Eek! Eek!" Pom-Pom suddenly let out a high-pitched squeak, its entire body trembling.
It spun around, its fluffy face flushed with rage. "No touching the Conductor, Pom-Pom!"
Kenta laughed awkwardly, pulling his hand back. "My apologies, Conductor. You're just too cute. I lost my self-control for a second."
Pom-Pom seemed even angrier at the compliment. "Kenta, Passenger! You are a terrible Trailblazer, Pom-Pom! This Conductor hereby fines you two days of cleaning duty, Pom-Pom!"
Kenta smiled wryly and nodded. "Cleaning duty it is. I'll treat it as a 'get to know the ship' exercise."
On the other side of the car, Himeko watched the scene while taking a slow sip of her coffee. "Phew. The Train is getting livelier and livelier. That's wonderful."
She turned to Welt Yang, who was busy scrolling through his phone nearby. "Would you like a cup, Welt?"
Cough!
Welt nearly choked on his own saliva. "No—no thank you, Himeko. I'm quite alright." The man successfully navigated the danger and immediately pivoted to a safer topic. "Speaking of which, our new companion isn't simple."
Himeko arched a perfectly groomed eyebrow. "Oh? Why do you say that?"
Welt pushed up his glasses, his expression turning solemn. "According to Dan Heng, Kenta possesses combat strength that doesn't belong on Jarilo-VI. And there's the matter of his weapon fragments being found inside the Stellaron itself."
He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in. "And the most important point: his Black Flame. Based on my perception, that fire isn't just heat. it involves Paths and conceptual manipulation. It 'burns' things that shouldn't be flammable—like distance itself."
Himeko smiled gently. "Isn't he here to figure that out? Everyone on this Train has a history they'd rather not discuss at dinner. There's no need to worry yet, Welt."
Time flew by, and soon it was evening. After a dinner prepared by Pom-Pom, the crew prepared to retire to their rooms. Before leaving the table, Stelle looked at Kenta with the wide, watery eyes of a kicked puppy.
"Kenta... are you sure you won't sleep in my room? It's very big..."
Kenta's mouth twitched. He remembered the "room" he'd seen earlier. Calling it a storage unit was being generous; it was more like a dumpster had exploded inside a closet. "Next time you invite someone over," he said gently, "maybe find a bed first. Or floor space that isn't covered in trash."
Stelle took the rejection to heart, her eyes burning with a new resolve: Room renovation starts tomorrow.
Since Stelle's room was currently a biohazard, Kenta followed Dan Heng into the Data Bank to share the bunks there.
Nighttime, inside the Data Bank.
After a late-night crash course on galactic history with Dan Heng, the two turned in. It wasn't until the dead of night that Kenta's eyes snapped open. He checked the bunk across from him; Dan Heng was breathing steadily, deep in sleep.
Kenta used his Silent Steps to glide out of the room. He moved like a shadow through the train cars until he reached the door next door: March 7th's room.
He raised a hand and gave a sharp, rhythmic knock.
One second... two seconds... The door creaked open just a crack, revealing one bright, bi-colored eye. March 7th peered out, checked the hallway for witnesses, and then pulled Kenta inside.
The room was an explosion of pink, dolls, and "girly" decor. A photo wall faced the bed, flashing through hundreds of memories from their journey. March 7th was standing there, her face a deep crimson. Her nightgown was relatively short, leaving her smooth legs exposed, and she kept tugging the hem down in a futile battle for modesty.
"Stupid... stupid Kenta! Don't just stare at me!" she whispered, her voice barely audible.
"Ahem, sorry." Kenta coughed, looking away.
The girl's gaze shifted bashfully. "Are we... really going to... do this?"
Kenta gave her a look of absolute determination. "Please, March! You're the only one who can help me with this!"
March 7th took a deep breath, her resolve hardening. "Since you put it that way... alright! Take out the item."
Kenta nodded. He reached toward the satchel at his waist.
Then—he pulled out the blackened, jagged fragments of his broken blade.
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