Archive of Our Own ^beta

When did his hair get so long, again? It feels like, just yesterday, it only reached the nape of his neck. Dan Heng reaches a hand back to touch it, to assure himself of its reality, but a stern voice scolds away the grasp of his fingers.

“Nuh-uh! Stay still, I’m not done yet.”

A fond sigh slips through his lips. “Right, sorry.” Obediently, he pulls the calligraphy pen from behind his ear and returns his hand to the page before him. What was it that he wanted to write? Light, like fog, obscures his vision, and the words already penned in the logbook are too far away to reach. He can't remember.

What a wonderful day it must be, for the air to be so full of light. From several cars away, the slow, gentle muse of a piano’s melody pulls at his ears. It carries with it a smattering of footsteps, the lingering scent of oranges, the click of the shutter on an antiquated camera, and the echoes of conversations, far too fragmented for Dan Heng to make out. Each sensation is acutely sentimental and yet distinctly unfamiliar, displaced, somehow, from the stirrings of his heart.

For the moment, he sets aside the logbook and pen, and he closes his eyes. The expanse of light colors the darkness behind his eyelids in shades of distant red. He wants to carve this moment into his memory, before it disappears beyond the horizon of time.

In that pale and luminous darkness, the echoes of dozens of voices brush past him as leaves on the wind, each calling out to him before they slip away, helplessly, out of his reach:

Navigator.

Awaking, Dan Heng is greeted by a sharp and blinding light, forcing his eyelids into a squint. As his vision adjusts, Himeko comes into view, silhouetted by the exterior lights of the passenger car. She has always reminded him of fire, and in the halo set apart from the Data Bank’s dark interior, her hair has been set aflame.

“I hate to disturb you when you've slept so well,” Himeko says. “Did you have a pleasant dream?”

Instantly, Dan Heng recalls the phantom sensations of his slumber, and he reaches an urgent hand to the back of his neck, assuring himself his hair has not grown in his sleep. It has not. Still, he’s left with a lingering gooseflesh, the palms of his hands cold and clammy. He is not the Express’ Navigator, and he won’t take up that helm.

That role belongs to Himeko.

Dan Heng doesn’t answer her question, but she smiles at him, a tinge of regret coloring her lips. “We’ve arrived. Are you ready to disembark?”

He pulls himself to his feet, making the conscious decision to force the dream from his mind. The bundles of fabric containing the two fractured pieces of Cloud-Piercer weigh heavy in his arms. It was lighter, somehow, when it was whole.

Light. Even before they depart from the Express, the glow of the Radiant Zenith is laid bare through the Express’ windows. While Himeko reviews their plan a final time with Mr. Yang and Pom-Pom, Dan Heng stares out at the endless, shining expanse of moonstone. It certainly looks easier to navigate than Central Starskiff Haven, lacking the clutter, hustle, and bustle which so populates the Luofu’s jetty. Those he watches disembark from their own crafts, their lives entirely unknown to him, walk with a sense of purpose to their stride, undeterred from their destination by even the sight of the Astral Express. Still, he finds a sense of foreboding stirring in his chest, and he shrinks away from the window. Once he’s left the Express, there will be nowhere to hide—the Zhuming will refuse to conceal him.

Unconsciously, out of habit, his hand reaches for Cloud-Piercer, eager for the safety it promises and amputated from the knowledge of his mind: his spear was split by the doors of the Shackling Prison.

Himeko looks up at him, her face coated with grease from the underside of the car. “Could you grab that wrench for me? A cycrane carried it off.” She angles a thumb some distance down the railway platform, where the wrench has been ceremoniously abandoned, its carrier having lost interest in the shiny object.

Thankfully, the cycrane does not reemerge, and Dan Heng retrieves the wrench without incident. But before Himeko slides back under the car, vanishing into the dark, she poses a question to him.

“Would you be willing to learn maintenance?”

“Dan Heng,” Himeko says softly, the light touch of her hand brushing his shoulder, “time to go.”

Instantly he flinches back, his body jolting away from hers. “Don't touch me,” he snaps, and immediately he is guilty. His apology, though, remains jammed in his throat, impeded by the mass of nameless frustration which already resides there. He cannot find the words, or the breath, to speak to her. What would he say?

How can he possibly put this… turmoil into words?

He follows Himeko’s back past the boundary of the Express, and the light seems to stick to him, rendering him in painstaking clarity. Too-bright places have long made him uneasy, as if his eyes never properly developed the capacity to take in so much light, were permanently impaired by the darkness of the Shackling Prison.

He finds himself squinting. It’s a long walk from here to the Furnace of Creation.

Reportedly, General Huaiyan had a chariot sent for them, but even after reaching what Dan Heng assumes to be a transport hub, not a single person approaches them. Could their ride be running late? Himeko hasn’t heard anything of the sort (though, given the nature of the Zhuming, their ride may well be unmanned), nor have Yunli or any of Huaiyan’s aides contacted them. Left with nothing to do but wait, they find a free bench—Himeko takes a seat, but Dan Heng opts to remain standing—and they wait.

The hub, if it can be called that, consists of the same moonstone, branching into two paths which continue far into the distance. Dan Heng missed the descent—which he had very much wanted to see, another misfortune he holds against his dream—so he can’t say for sure, but he guesses they're at one of the “tips” of the Zhuming's “petals,” and that most work of importance takes place further below. Still, it’s loud here, busy with the voices of not only arrivals, departures, and salespeople but everything else: lanterns, automaton guides, glowing store signs, streetcars, buses, what looks to be a variety of airborne bicycles… For the first time, he feels fortunate to have been born on the Luofu, where at least the buildings and starskiffs don’t talk. He’d go mad living here.

It still manages to smell nice, though. At a distance, down one of the branching roads, he spots a collection of food trucks—mobile, not sedentary, like the booths he might find on the Luofu. The scents are keenly familiar, if sharper and more fragrant. He considers buying something for himself and Himeko, as a “peace offering” of sorts. It’s hard to keep up a conflict with someone when you’re sharing a warm meal with them, he’s found, after more than his fair share of spats with Stelle and March.

The words are the tip of his tongue when a small figure, leaping from above, almost slams into him. He jumps back, but the arm which attempts to ready his spear is left empty. Perhaps this is a good thing, for the pale blur of a person reveals herself to be none other than Yunli. She looks to Dan Heng and Himeko with fierce, sharp eyes, seemingly unaware of the bizarre circumstances of her arrival.

“Gra—General Huaiyan got yanked into some… general business,” she offers as explanation, first turning to Himeko. “You must be Miss Himeko. I’m Yunli. March is my student.”

Her words are brisk and sharp, pulled tight around their corners, and it strikes Dan Heng as unnatural. He doesn’t think she’s lying—not yet, anyway—but something more than her tardiness has unsettled her. He remembers Yunli as spirited, yes, and impulsive, but not restless. As Himeko, no doubt curious, indulges in a great deal of questions regarding March’s apprenticeship, Yunli tips her balance from foot to foot, all the while fingering the grip of her sword. Her gestures are all too reminiscent of his own useless grasping for Cloud-Piercer, finding himself only at ease when it rests next to his palm.

If the General were hurt or in danger, they’d all have much bigger problems, but that doesn’t seem to be the case. What, then, has shaken her confidence?

Abruptly, he realizes that Yunli is staring at him.

…No, not him. Cloud-Piercer. Eyebrows bunched into knots, her pout is caught somewhere between resentment and fear. After a moment, her eyes dart to Dan Heng, opening her mouth to say something—but seeing that he’s been watching her, she jolts back, yelping, and turns swiftly away from him. Whatever the pieces of his spear were telling her, she doesn’t say.

“What did you hear?” He wants to know. Yunli, her back to him, firmly shakes her head.

“Nothing,” she insists, her voice bordering on a growl. But then, suddenly aware of her own impropriety, she takes a deep breath, mustering a friendlier tone. “Please follow me. I know a shortcut.”

“Are we not going by chariot?” Himeko asks, giving Dan Heng a curious look. He just shrugs, just as confused as she is.

Yunli stops mid-step, hovering with one foot poised on her toes. “Sorry,” she admits, “I don’t like them. Can we walk? Like I said, I know a shortcut.”

Right, Dan Heng had heard something of her father’s story. He has little trouble imagining why the forging of even newborn heliobi into everyday devices might bother her. It must be strange, living on the Zhuming with her circumstances.

Perceptive as always, Himeko gives Yunli a reassuring smile. “Not at all. It’s the best way to sightsee.”

Still unconvinced, Yunli looks to Dan Heng. “It’s fine,” he tells her, and then, after a moment, “but could we stop to get something to eat?”

Yunli's eyes light up with stars, the unease wiped off her face in an instant. “Yes! I’ll show you my favorite spot.” Without hesitation, she leaps off the side of the road—and down a set of crystalline stairs which appear, miraculously, beneath her feet. “Follow me.”

Dan Heng looks to Himeko: he finds they’re both smiling, tickled by the reminder of a certain someone who would also, unfortunately, leap into the abyss of a ship—with or without a staircase to catch them. “You heard her. Let’s go,” Himeko tells him, taking the lead, and a ray of light eases its way through the clouds over his heart.

Yunli takes them to a bakery located on, thankfully, a relatively quiet road. Travel through the area is minimal and appears to be largely local, judging from the lack of cameras and pointing cell phones. Dan Heng picks out only a few scattered voices from the heliobi. Either due to financial hardship or a resistance to change, this area has likely remained more or less the same for quite some time.

Seeing both Dan Heng and Himeko pull out their phones, Yunli scowls. “You two are guests, got it?” Her tone is almost threatening, and in spite of himself, a shiver runs up Dan Heng’s spine. He won’t be paying for anything today, then.

She dismisses, too, their requests for a menu. “I’ve got it. Trust me,” she insists, before vanishing into the bakery to order.

Himeko hums with pleasure, not one to be deterred by a surprise. Dan Heng doesn’t much care one way or the other, having never been one to enjoy food for itself. He does like cooking, if only because he now has the freedom to do so, but the real pleasure for him is sharing a meal with people he cares about. He's had the vast majority of his life’s meals with only darkness and misery for company, so he makes a point not to miss dinner even when his mood is particularly sour.

As they’re waiting, seated at one of the ornate outdoor tables, he catches Himeko watching him from the corner of her eye.

“Maintenance? I don’t see why not. Have you been needing a second pair of hands?” Himeko hasn’t asked for anything, but he’s definitely the best fit for the job if she needs help.

Himeko purses her lips, thinking. Her hair, which usually wreaths her face in red, is pulled into a messy bun. Dan Heng finds himself thinking that she looks… small, absent of the aura she usually carries with her. “Not quite,” she says, after a moment. “Dan Heng, I want to make sure you have all the tools necessary to succeed in the future.”

A chill erupts across the back of his neck. He scratches at it, surprised (and shaken) to find the beginnings of scales flaking off beneath his fingers. “What do you mean?” he asks, his mouth dry.

“The Astral Express is our home, but it will always be the site of many partings and farewells.” Himeko’s eyes are fixed straight ahead, gazing far past the artificial sky and out into the stars. “But you… You’re not going to depart. We’re alike in that way.”

“It’s like that for all of us,” Dan Heng insists, fervently, before he can swallow the words. He’s no longer sure that this is true. “We’re all going to stay.”

Himeko looks to him—not at him, for her eyes are still far away. She smiles, a faint hint of sorrow brushing her features. “I hope that’s true,” she says, with the certainty of a prophet, “but we may not be so lucky.”

Cloud-Piercer is an heirloom from a past life, a vestigial limb he should no longer need—why is it, exactly, that he’s held onto it for so long? Why should he carry with him a reminder of a life that isn’t his? More than that, it was forged by Yingxing—why does it not bother him? He has tried, in the past, to think of himself as entirely separate from his predecessor, as a new and different creature with his own blood flowing through his veins, and to some degree, that's true.

But the waters of Imbibitor Lunae continue to beat against his shore.

He looks to Himeko, wanting to ask for her advice, but words have deserted him. If only he could draw what it is he’s feeling; unlike his dreams, emotions don’t take on shape.

At that moment, Yunli returns, ferrying with her a heaping plate of smoked sesame balls. Looking between him and Himeko, she suddenly blurts out, her words tripping over themselves, “Gramps wants me to do the repair by myself and I don't want to.”

How he envies, in that moment, her ability to speak.

Himeko looks between himself and Yunli, her eyes taking on a knowing light. But before she can say anything, Yunli has already gulped down her first sesame ball and resumed her story. “I don’t know if anyone told you, Miss Himeko, but my dad forged a lot of cursed swords. They’re awful, horrible things that lie to their wielders and hurt a lot of people.” She scarfs down another sesame ball between sentences, scarcely making a sound. “It’s my job to destroy them. One day, I’m going to find all of them and melt them down.”

Dan Heng has heard this before, from Stelle—she generally indulges him when he asks her to recount her travels, speaking herself in circles as he takes notes for the Data Bank.

“It’s my job to destroy them,” Yunli repeats. “But I don’t want to destroy something precious. Yingxing is Grandpa’s favorite. Why won’t he just do it himself?” There is a wail of frustration in her voice. Another sesame ball disappears from her hands. Eating must make her feel better.

“Are you afraid you’ll damage it?” Himeko asks. Her voice is light, curious, gentle—Dan Heng has the sense she already knows the answer.

Yunli squirms in her seat. “I'm good at destroying things.” She takes another sesame bun from the pile, but only holds it in her hands, staring down at it with wide, round eyes.

“Yunli,” Himeko begins, “after you’ve destroyed all your father’s swords, what do you want to do?”

“That's what he said!” Yunli snaps, her shoulders quivering. “I don't know! It’s too hard!”

But Himeko just nods, thoughtfully, unshaken by her outburst. “General Huaiyan has asked you to do something very important. He wouldn’t have entrusted the task to you if he didn’t believe you were ready.” At this, Yunli looks up, her vision meek and watery.

“I trust the General’s judgment,” Dan Heng adds, surprising himself. “Your hands are not your father’s. They aren’t doomed to destroy anything.”

Yunli fixes her gaze on him, a probing intensity to her expression. For a long, tense moment, she is entirely silent. “Neither are yours,” she tells him, firmly, at last.

How had she known?

It hits him then, what he couldn’t put into words. Love had made Dan Feng a monster. Love had driven him to abandon his duty, turn his back on the world, and leave a wreckage of everyone who cared for and relied upon him. And Dan Heng had always assumed it to be a brutality of ego, the senseless thrashing of a vainglorious madman.

But when Himeko had spoken to him before their departure from the Luofu, he had felt it: the means to tear apart the sky. If you disappear, I will do anything, anything at all, to bring you back to me. No matter how selfish, no matter how cruel, I will find you. I will bring you home.