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Usually, it took a very concerted effort for a Halovian to perform ‘tuning’ on somebody. Whether the purpose was to alleviate the discord in their mind or to forcefully pry past their lies, it took a lot of focus to look into someone’s mind and move through their noise and the noise of the world around them. It also took focus, as well as a fair amount of emotional rapport and trust, in order to initially bond with the mind of another, so that you may speak into each other’s thoughts. In that kind of tuning, the action could very well become effortless, once you shared a bond with someone, but…even so, the point still stood. It still wasn’t something that could be initiated through no intentional action at all.
In other words…tuning really wasn’t supposed to feel anything like this.
“Why hasn’t she texted back? Isn’t—!?”
“…Planet Street, Planet Street…did I miss it?”
“wow this tastes terrible—”
“—can’t believe it’s today!”
“Sasuke is so funny—”
“…you know, maybe he meant PLANAR Street, not Planet Street…”
“I have a meeting at eight, so that gives me one and a quarter hours before…”
“SERIOUSLY!? The NERVE of some people! I OUGHT TO—”
“Oh…it was PLANT Street, that’s my bad.”
“I wonder where—”
Sunday could hear everyone.
Sunday hurriedly continued to walk down the busy street, soon finding himself instinctively clenching his eyes shut and using his wings to tightly cover his ears, not that it did him any good at all. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t make it stop. The thoughts of everyone passing by rang through his mind as if being proclaimed by many loudspeakers, jumbling together until they were almost unintelligible on their own. This was just tuning, he knew—an art he was well adept at and an ability he’s had for all of his life, ever since it was just him and Robin talking to each other without need for any spoken words and with that simple childlike joy as if they were the first in all the universe to discover this power, but now, the feeling felt almost foreign to him. It took no effort, no focus, to tune into the minds of all of these strangers—instead, it would take an intense amount of focus just to keep them out.
Yao Guang said that he would get used to this and soon regain control of his powers, which had been so intensely amplified by the power of the mask that was now bound to him, but now was not that time. He thought he had been getting better at this, but this street was quickly proving to be a nightmare. Maybe it was just because he was weary from a long day? Or maybe it was just because it had only been about a day since he gained this mask, and he really just needed more time. Still, surely, this shouldn’t be this much of a problem. It was only noise, just like a crowd of people’s voices. He should be able to drown them out. He should be fine. But there was just too much…he couldn’t focus on anything. He couldn’t focus on walking. He felt nauseous. Was that because of something he ate? Was he about to throw up? No…it wasn’t that bad. He just…needed to sit down. No, that would only make it worse. He just had to get past the thick of the crowds, had to ignore…
“Do they think that I—”
“ARGH JUST YOU WAIT! THOSE PUNKS—” “Hi, yes, I’ll take a green matcha and a—"
“…so pretty! Let me pull up my camera—”
“And so then, I said you—”
“—HAVEN’T SEEN THE LAST OF ME! YOU HEARD ME!”
“Swipe left…swipe left…swipe…”
“Oh, I’d love to come!” “Please say no, please say no…”
“Maybe if they could just—”
“Sunday? Is…everything alright?”
Sunday broke from his stupor, a small choking sound escaping his throat as he realized at least five seconds too late that someone was talking to him. He shifted quickly to face Dan Heng, the words he should have said nearly dead in his throat, but past a quick two or three false starts, he forced himself to push through anyways.
“Oh! Dan Heng. Sorry, I am fine, I was just…” …feeling his head was throbbing enough to knock him out just by standing here, as ludicrous as that was. He should be fine. He was able to manage well enough earlier today, didn’t he? “…I was just on my way to…to head towards…” To dinner. That’s what he meant, but somehow, he couldn’t even bring himself to talk correctly. He had to leave. He needed to get off this street. He should be fine. He should just tell Dan Heng he was fine, and…and then he would…
“Oh, COME ON! What does he think he’s—?”
“…or I could stop for coffee first–”
“—disassociating? I should—” “Sunday?”
“I’m fine, really,” he assured quickly at the sound of Dan Heng’s voice through the noise, waving off the idea with one hand while tensely cradling his forehead with the other, but apparently, that wasn’t going to be good enough for the Express Crew’s ever-vigilant archivist.
“Here. Take my hand, and focus on my voice. There should be a Space Anchor nearby. Let’s go back to the Astral Express—would that be alright?”
“I…suppose so…”
Dan Heng led him around the corner, guiding Sunday’s dazed self to one of those markers accessible to pathstriders of the Trailblaze, which instantly teleported both of them back onto the Astral Express, in the middle of the parlor car. Immediately, Sunday was hit with a wave of…quietness. Solace. It was a feeling not unlike suddenly waking up in the dream pool of a quiet hotel room after being embroiled in some tense situation inside the dreamscape—a quick relief that nevertheless did not erase the instinctive weight of responsibility, knowing that he would have to handle whatever it was that stressed him as quickly as possible. Except…he didn’t quite have so much a mental grasp, this time, on whatever it was he was supposed to handle.
Being inside the Astral Express also, somehow, felt like far more of a relief and an escape than that hotel room—or his former Penacony home—ever did.
Sunday found himself sitting down on the couch before he realized what he was doing or that Dan Heng was helping him to do it, just now becoming vaguely aware that his mind was still embarrassingly unaware of what actions he should do next, even the most small and inconsequential ones. He just…needed a few moments, perhaps. To breathe. He hoped he wasn’t being a burden…
“Sunday?” Dan Heng cautiously spoke his name again, after a few moments of waiting. “Is he having a panic attack? What did Himeko do the last time I…? “How do you feel? Do you know where you are right now?”
“I…the Astral Express,” Sunday eventually answered with a slow blink, before finally allowing himself to relax a small, exhausted smile. “Don’t worry; I’m not in that bad of a shape, I promise,” he assured. “I feel better now. Thank you. I’m sorry for the trouble.”
“It’s not any trouble,” Dan Heng said with a sharp, exasperated sigh of his own—an exasperation that came from genuine concern, not disappointment, Sunday could feel clearly through the implicit mental link, but he still had to consciously remind of himself of that. “I just saw that you seemed…overwhelmed, out there. Did anything happen?”
“No,” Sunday replied with a shake of his head, his wings drooping some more under the weight of the instinctual embarrassment he felt, realizing just how pointless whatever episode he just had really was. Within the blessed quiet of the Astral Express parlor car, accompanied only by Dan Heng and his relatively quiet mind that even in his own stress didn’t shout frenzied thoughts like so many other people did, he was relieved but also sharply reminded that he didn’t really have much to be relieved from. “Nothing happened. I was just walking, and it became…a little loud,” he admitted.
Almost surprisingly, however, Dan Heng didn’t seem surprised. He only nodded. “It was a rather busy street. Noise like that can get…rather chaotic, at times.”
“It wasn’t just that,” Sunday corrected, taking a long, deep breath to brace himself for what he knew he must talk about. “I’m sorry. I haven’t really talked about this with you yet, but…that mask, for the Phantasmoon Games. It’s made my tuning spiral out of control; ever since putting it on, the range of my natural mental reach into the minds of others has steadily grown further and further, to the point that merely walking down the street allows the thoughts and feelings of others crash into my mind like a tidal wave, even without me making any effort to perform tuning on anyone. I don’t think I even can perform it on any one person if I wanted to, right now, with how hard it is to hear even my own thoughts above the noise. Not unless I’m…well, in a place like this,” he explained, gesturing to the surrounding parlor car, still as quiet and unmoved as before. “I didn’t expect this to happen. Yao Guang explained it to me as part of the mask’s power—it amplifies the natural abilities the wearer, even abilities which are borne from another Aeon’s path.”
By the wide-eyed look on Dan Heng’s face and the emotions radiating from him, he seemed quite surprised by this, as well. “I…didn’t know that about the masks, either. You say Yao Guang told you?”
Sunday nodded. “We met again earlier today, briefly. She told me more about the masks and answered some of my questions.” He couldn’t tell Dan Heng exactly what all those answers she gave him were, as she swore him to secrecy, but he could at least tell him this much. “She said I would gain better control over time, and I thought I was starting to get accustomed already, but…evidently, the power is still a little much for me, and I can’t say it brings any comfort to know that my range might only continue to grow. I’m…very sorry for the trouble I caused, just now.”
“I already told you—it’s not any trouble. You don’t have to apologize,” Dan Heng said with sincerity, shaking his head. “I can only imagine how overstimulating that would be to hear so much at once…that’s yet another thing Yao Guang failed to mention before she acted…”
“Sorry, I can still hear your thoughts, too,” Sunday softly interjected to Dan Heng from inside his mind, with only a heavy sigh escaping his lips out loud as he felt himself growing frustrated again over this passive perception of thoughts he still had to deal with.
“I know,” Dan Heng responded back, with a pointed look.
“Ah, well, my apologies,” Sunday replied, speaking out loud with an awkwardly apologetic smile. “I will try to put myself back in control now, so that I won’t listen without your consent.” He hated to imagine how invasive this must feel on Dan Heng’s part—he had only just recently begun to establish mind links with the members of the Astral Crew, which had been very helpful for communicating in secret when need be (given that they weren’t trying to keep secret from someone like Yao Guang, who saw everything), but that was supposed to be both mutual and intentional. Something like this…it felt like a breach of trust. And it was far from the only thing that felt like that.
“No worries; take your time,” Dan Heng said simply. “I think…you should get some rest, before going back outside. I’ll stay for now. Would you like some tea or coffee?”
“What? Oh, I really don’t want to impose. Besides, we…were supposed to come to dinner soon, weren’t we?” What time was it, now? He realized he had almost completely forgotten where he was going, before all of this.
“I’ll text the group to let them know we’ll be late,” Dan Heng replied, still without missing a beat. “Knowing Stelle and March, they’ve probably already gotten distracted by something along the way, anyways.”
Ah…so this was normal for them. Good to know.
Sunday nodded. “Understood. I…thank you,” he accepted, taking a deep exhale in attempts to uncoil the remaining knots of tension from his shoulders. “Tea would be nice. But if you have to go, I can also make it myself…”
“No, I will stay,” Dan Heng gently insisted, shaking his head. “I was in the mood for tea as well, so I’ll also be making some for myself.”
“Oh, okay. In that case…thank you. I’ll wait here, then.”
And so, Sunday remained in place, willfully letting his mind and his tuning quiet down until the sound of Dan Heng’s footsteps were the only thing echoing in his ears as he retreated into the kitchen and left him alone, for a moment. He stared at the ceiling and at the window looking out into the train station, which was certainly still full of people, but they were distant enough (and the walls thoroughly soundproof and magic-resistant enough) so that his headspace remained completely free of the potential clamor of their thoughts. He could give himself a moment to breathe, and to suppress his tuning back to the calmest, most muted state it could be in…although it didn’t go away completely. It was probably only visible to himself, by this point, but Sunday could still look up to see an indigo raven with golden eyes perched by the radio in the corner of the room, watching him. The bird was a manifestation of his tuning—a faint presence, now, but still forever present, nonetheless.
By the time Dan Heng returned with two cups of tea in hand, some five to ten minutes later, Sunday’s mind had gratefully returned to a place of relative peace and quiet, the headache and nausea slowly ebbing away as well…although at the same time, the absence of the discord steadily brought a sea of other thoughts crashing back into his mind in their stead, reminding him of everything that happened, and everything he had to worry over which he had not yet resolved. Still, he accepted the warm cup of herbal tea with a calm smile, thanking Dan Heng again for getting this for him and then waiting for it to cool to the sound of the amiable silence between them. Perhaps, this was a perfectly suitable state to remain in, and he should let the silence continue, but also…he was alone with Dan Heng again. In response to all of his own worries swirling thickly just beneath the surface of his mind, he came to the decision that perhaps, now was as good a time as any to talk about that matter, which they hardly had time to address properly before.
“By the way, Dan Heng,” he started suddenly, looking up at his companion with an anxious resolve. “I just…wanted to apologize to you again, about last night. I recognize that, whatever my reasons may have been, my actions were still out of line, and…I hope you will forgive me.”
“Last night?” Dan Heng echoed, seeming surprised at him for bringing it up, and perhaps a little confused, as well. “What are you referring to?”
“I mean with what happened with the mask, when we were on the roof with Lady Yao Guang, and…well, you know what happened,” Sunday explained, although he wondered why it wasn’t obvious. “I apologize for the manner in which that occurred.”
“I still don’t know what you’re talking about,” Dan Heng expressed with a sharp sigh, as if he thought Sunday to be terribly cryptic right now, which…wasn’t his intention, but Sunday had already been becoming increasingly aware that his habits weren’t always in line with his desire to be more forthright. “Yao Guang was the one who forced the mask onto you by surprise. I don’t see what you have to apologize for.”
“Yes, but I also wanted it, just as she said I did,” Sunday explained, trying to be more plain with how he felt even as he kept glancing back at the raven in the corner, the memories continuing to turn over in his mind and make him doubt all of his own intentions. They talked about this already, after it happened, but with all of the events of today, the two of them hadn’t really gotten the chance to speak of this all that much. Besides, Dan Heng was off on his own mission to search for Blade now, after all. Perhaps, this conversation was only a distraction from everything they should be doing right now, be it simply going out to dinner with the group or otherwise putting in work to search for answers and prepare for whatever the Games might throw at them next, but still, he felt he needed to say something. “I…sensed that for a brief moment, you were wary of me, after Yao Guang said what she did, and you would be correct to have doubts. I really did contemplate taking the mask for myself, simply to fulfill the desire within me to learn more about this world. I wanted to see if this arcadia, this world of freedom and imagination promised by the Elation, truly is the paradise it claims to be, and I still do.”
“But Sunday, none of that constitutes your ‘actions’ being out of line,” Dan Heng pointed out with the cadence of a heavy sigh as he set his cup of tea back down into his lap. “All you described were your thoughts, which is hardly the same thing.”
“Ah…right.” He supposed that was what he said, wasn’t it? He just didn’t think that much of it. “My apologies. Force of habit, I suppose.”
“And your thoughts are hardly anything worth apologizing for, either,” Dan Heng added firmly and without hesitation. “Yes, it is true that I felt…well, a reflexive sense of suspicion, in that moment. After all, becoming a supplicant in the Phantasmoon Games means potentially becoming an Aeon for a minute, which is hardly a power to be taken lightly.”
“And you knew that I, of all people, shouldn’t be trusted with that kind of power,” Sunday added, a self-deprecating smile finding purchase on his face as he thought about how foolish all of this really was. “I did a terrible thing, nearly becoming the incarnation of an Aeon once, and so, I really shouldn’t be allowed to come anywhere close to repeating that mistake again.”
“That was not what I was going to say,” Dan Heng refuted, his eyes narrowing at him further. “What I meant was that yes, I was wary of your intentions, but no, I don’t believe you did anything wrong, and there is nothing wrong with you having interest in the mask. You already told us back on that roof about your desire to learn more about this world, and frankly, that explanation is good enough for me. I believe your desire to find a paradise comes from a genuine want to do good in the world, and as followers of the Trailblaze, there’s no reason why we wouldn’t help you find your way towards that goal.”
“Thank you, but…I also am all too aware that merely having the intention to do good is hardly good enough, either,” Sunday noted with yet another heavy sense of regret for the past. He once thought that reviving Ena and trapping everyone inside a dream was the right thing to do, too, or at least…he thought it was the only choice that he had. To create paradise, eliminate suffering, and also, to fulfill the expectations he promised he would meet, carry through a plan that had been so many years in the making, and become the Chordmaster for the Harmonious Choir so that Robin wouldn’t have to…all of these reasons cemented themselves like a knot in his mind, back then, until he became sure that there really was no other choice. Even so, he posed the question of the Charmony Dove again and again, hoping for a different answer that he could accept, to finally convince him that setting a dove free was not synonymous with sentencing it to death. Now, he believed he had a new sense of perspective, that he lacked before. The will of humanity was not so weak and the choices before him were not so narrow as he once came to believe they were. Even so…it hadn’t been that long, all things considered, since he left Penacony with the crew of the Astral Express and started on his journey. There was still so much he didn’t know. So much about the world, life, and himself that he didn’t even know how to begin to understand.
“Still…thank you, for your belief in me,” Sunday accepted, trying to let himself relax again, as he ignored the raven growing more vibrant in form in favor of keeping steady eye contact with Dan Heng. “Rest assured, I will try to support you all as best as I can as the Games continue, and I will try not to make any major decisions on my own, if I can help it. I will also be glad to concede victory to Stelle come the end of the Games, if it comes down to the two of us…assuming I’d be able to do so, anyhow. Given that victory goes to the one who earns Aha’s attention, rather than the last man standing, as it were, it is difficult to predict how things will go.”
“Yes, that does seem to be the case,” Dan Heng acknowledged with a sharp sigh. “From what I’ve gathered so far, the Games have been won in…quite an interesting variety of ways, in the past, so it is hard to judge so soon how things will go. But…that really is besides the point,” he interjected, shaking his head. “Sunday, are you sure that everything is alright? Did something happen today? You seem less sure of yourself, than you did last night.”
“Do I?” Sunday wondered, honestly not sure what exactly he was feeling or if anything really changed, except… “Well…for one thing, there is the matter of me being unable to control this amplification of my power in even something so simple as the hearing of other people’s thoughts. Again, I didn’t know this would happen. I can’t deny that it has been useful—that bird you saw acting as my familiar, for instance, is a manifestation of my power of tuning. It will appear on its own, and to control it is an ability shared by all Halovians, but that is rather difficult to do, in practice. It takes a lot of power to let it fly any significant distance away from your presence. However, I can now control it with a range I didn’t have before. I do hope to make good use of that.” And he already did, to assist Stelle during her and Himeko’s fight with Sparxie. Having more power to do this wasn’t an issue, on its own. He just…wished he could be sure of how far this would go. Would his ‘hearing’ and ‘sight’ only keep growing larger, until all of Planarcadia was in his hands? Was that really what he wanted?
“I’m sure you can,” Dan Heng agreed with a simple resolve. “In a place like this, communication and the ability to quickly see the lay of the land can be very valuable tools, I think. You shouldn’t strain yourself, of course, but I know you know what you’re doing.”
“Thanks. I…learned from the best.”
Sunday’s words came with a bite that almost surprised him, a subtle taste of bitterness at the end…or maybe just sadness. Or confusion, even. Either way, it was easy to tell from his raised eyebrows that Dan Heng took notice of that.
“The best? You mean…Gopher Wood?”
Sunday nodded, trying to constrain a grimace as the raven flew across the room outside his control and settled onto the back of the couch, as if demanding attention no matter how hard he tried to ignore it. “Yes. The Dreammaster, Gopher Wood, was a Halovian, just like Robin and I. He had no physical body for as long as I’ve known him and long, long before that, but such a limitation never stopped his reach—no, if anything, it amplified it. Through the eyes of his birds, Gopher Wood could see everything, be everywhere. All of Penacony was in his hands. All of the Oak Family were his vessels. He could possess any one of us, at any time he wished, to gain a body in lieu of his lack of one. This, too, was ‘tuning,’ and Gopher Wood possessed far more strength over the minds of others than most Halovians could ever begin to hope to achieve. He was a cunning, brilliant man, and…he probably still is, if he really is alive somewhere out there.”
Sunday wasn’t sure, anymore, whether to refer to him in the past or present tense. He also wasn’t sure whether that truly meant anything to him or not. Shouldn’t he miss him, in some way, now that he was gone? Gopher Wood was his adoptive father, after all, although Sunday wasn’t sure if he could ever remember calling him by such a title, although Gopher Wood sometimes referred to him as ‘son.’ To Sunday, he was ‘master,’ having assumed the role of teacher when Sunday was still very young, training him so that he may assume the role of the Bronze Melodia and one day take his place as the family head…while also teaching him in the ways of the Order, as well. Sunday remembered him to be a very patient teacher, with a kind voice, and so, naturally, Sunday looked up to him. He…wanted to make him happy, and bring him peace.
“Dan Heng, I…realize I never really thought about what it must have been like, before,” Sunday continued, his gaze drifting onto some distant place on the wall before him. “To be able to see so much, over such a wide reach—I can’t help but think of how this may be exactly how Gopher Wood saw the world. The sensation isn’t entirely new to me, I know—in becoming Ena’s incarnation, I felt as if my very soul was simultaneously buried and spread across all of the Asdana System, able to see into every dream and every heart, but…I also hardly had the ability to truly grasp any of that expanse with whatever was left of my mortal mind. This is, comparably, much more accessible, you could say. I could feel my power becoming much more like his, much more like whatever the ultimate, natural limits might be, for someone of my kind. And…I can’t say I am all that thrilled with the idea, if I am being honest.”
“And…why is that?” Dan Heng ventured cautiously. “Are you afraid of losing control, or is it just that you don’t want to become…well, like him?”
“I can’t say,” Sunday admitted, the feeling of confusion settling deeper into the pit of his stomach. “I don’t know what I feel, to be honest. It isn’t just Gopher Wood—all of the Halovians of the Family are known for their exceptional tuning, and…some feared us for it, I’m afraid, and I really can’t blame them for it, not anymore. Tuning can remove memories, restructure minds, strip a person of both their flesh and their desires,” he explained, thinking uncomfortably to what he knew the Family did to its prisoners, although he never saw it for himself, and he believed what he was taught, about it being a great benevolence that criminals were removed from their pain. The Family was much more merciful than others were with such people, he was told. To lose flesh and thought and become one with the choir was the greatest fate they could have…but now, Sunday wondered if it would have swayed him from his path, if he saw firsthand what it was like for someone to have their will forcibly removed. There was a lot he wondered about, the longer he was away—himself included. He used to have no problem at all with using tuning as a weapon and for reaching for more power, so longer as it was for the greater good, to achieve their goals—after all, he believed it was the duty of the strong to protect the weak, and thus, any power he gained was one that could be used in benevolence. He believed Gopher Wood to be benevolent, too, even if he still feared him, on some deep, dark level inside his mind, which he didn’t want to comprehend. He didn’t like to think about how much he feared for his sister, that day…and how he feared for Mr. Yang, even. At that moment, he thought him too smart for his own good, because surely, by choosing to confront him, there would be no reason why Gopher Wood would not simply rip apart his mind with tuning so that he never again had such a thought—
“But of course, such extreme applications were not all of what I was taught, and for the rest, it is only natural that I take after Gopher Wood; he was my mentor, after all,” Sunday added with a shaky smile, trying to pull his mind back to what must be more important. “And he was a very kind man, to both my sister and myself. I have no intentions to continue down the path of the Order that he walked, and I recognize that since he was training me in that path since childhood, there must be many things that I should reevaluate, but…it can’t be that everything was wrong, I would think. He was a very wise man, who led the Oak Family for many years, and besides that, he rescued my sister and I.” But for what reason? He called them children of the Order, so could he have planned from the start that… “So, you see, I…am fine, really,” he said, his hand tensing around the cup of tea and his eyes deliberately looking downwards, away from the raven, away from Dan Heng’s gaze. “I just have a lot to think about. Apologies for my rambling.”
“Sunday…” Dan Heng began, sounding intensely concerned in a way that made it all too clear that he could see how tense Sunday felt and made him instinctively fear that he was still being terribly unbecoming, fearing judgement although deep down he knew that Dan Heng wasn’t like that at all, but still, he knew he had to say something, but when Sunday looked up to face him again, he noticed that instead of looking at him, Dan Heng’s gaze had drifted onto the…
“Wait, you can see it too, now!?” Sunday asked, his own eyes darting back to the very solidified raven sitting on the back of the couch, his heart seizing again at the sight of the thing which had absolutely no reason to bother him at all, but it was looking at him and—
“Sunday! Are you alright?” Dan Heng snapped back into alarm again, immediately standing up as his eyes darted between the two of them, as if he might take the spear and kill the bird if only Sunday gave the word.
“Wait!” Sunday interjected before he even had handle of what he meant to say. “No, I mean…I’m fine. The bird is mine. There’s nothing wrong with it,” he admitted shakily, placing his cup back down on the table so that he may grip his knees to better steady himself.
Dan Heng sat back down slowly, looking at him as if unsure how to ask for an explanation, so Sunday gave it.
“The bird is mine. It is a manifestation of my tuning—every Halovian has it. I can see through the bird’s eyes, and I can allow others to do the same, just as I did earlier. It looks…the same, for all of us, I think. Or maybe I wouldn’t know. Most don’t have the skill or power to keep such a thing up for a long period of time, or to let the bird fly so far away from oneself. But it…it looks just like his,” Sunday admitted, the knot in his stomach growing even tighter, as he felt forced to address the thing he never intended to address, when he started this conversation or any other time. It was irrational. Illogical. He was not a child—he knew better than to see ghosts in the places they were not and turn benign shadows into monsters. This wasn’t even a monster, even if he were to give in to such delusions. It was only… “Sometimes, it feels to me like Gopher Wood is still watching me,” he admitted, forcing himself to stare the raven down. “I saw him like this far more often than I saw his humanoid form, after all. He was our parent and teacher, but…he was also very busy. But every time I saw the raven…I knew that whatever I did, he would know. He always did. It…was only natural he paid attention to everything in the Dreamscape, at all times. So…I’m sorry. I’m letting my imagination get the better of me, aren’t I?”
Dan Heng paused, his expression troubled, but then, he shook his head. “You shouldn’t blame yourself for being stressed. Honestly, seeing the raven appear for me just now, it was hard for me to not be wary on instinct, as well, but…like you said, this is the power of a Halovian; it has nothing to do with just Gopher Wood.” “I had no idea that the memory stressed him in this way…is he really afraid of him coming back?”
“I don’t know,” Sunday said with a shake of his head, accidentally replying to Dan Heng’s mental question rather than his spoken one. “I thought at first that Gopher Wood sacrificed himself to the Order in a way that he simply could not return from, but I am not sure. We have no proof that he is dead. He…might be out there, waiting to come back.” But would it really be a problem if he did? Was Sunday really so heartless as to not wish him to still be alive? But if he did find him, out here in the cosmos, would he try to pull Sunday back on the path of his old destiny once again? Would Sunday be convinced once more by his words? Or…would he instead treat Sunday exactly like the criminal and fugitive he was, and destroy him forever?
Dan Heng’s expression was grim—he took Sunday’s fears seriously, it seemed. “Well, you’re right. We don’t have any proof, one way or another, but…please don’t forget, you’re not alone,” he reminded him in firm earnest. “Even if Gopher Wood does come back to give you trouble, the Express will be right beside you. You’re safe, here.”
Sunday took in his words with a weighty pause, not making any inclination to remind him that he wasn’t a member of the Astral Express crew, but only a temporary passenger—sooner or later, Sunday would be off on his own again, which meant he would face Gopher Wood alone, too, if he really was somewhere out there. Still, he appreciated the promise and the encouragement, just as he deeply appreciated everything else the crew has done for him, all of which he hardly deserved. “Thank you, Dan Heng,” he said, relaxing into a small, albeit pained, smile again. “All of you have given me a great kindness, far more than I deserved. Still, I suppose…you could say it is for exactly that reason that I really don’t want to let you down, and I don’t want to become a danger to you, either. If I can’t control my tuning now, then what will happen to me, to all of you, if it only gets worse?”
Dan Heng paused for a little longer to think on that, while Sunday endeavored to calm himself down once again. “Then…my answer is the same. We will support you. I can’t say I have all the answers, and I don’t know what it is like to possess the power of that mask, but I do believe that you are not giving yourself enough credit. You will find your path, and just because others like you may use this power as a tool of oppression, it doesn’t mean that you will be the same way. Your power is yours, and no one else’s. If you were to accept that what you have inside you is a force for evil, then…that is the first step towards making it come true, I would think.”
“…thank you, truly, but…I’m sorry. I don’t know if that would be good enough,” Sunday countered sadly, as much as he appreciated the attempt at encouragement. “Truth be told, I don’t know if any of us can declare our power belongs to ‘no one else,’ because aren’t we all shaped, in some way, by where we came from, by the people who made us to be what we are? It’s not at all that I don’t believe that I can change, but our history just can’t be escaped. Gopher Wood used to tell me that Robin and I were born as twins of the Order, but even if that was a lie, could not my own actions have bound me to Ena’s divinity forever? Am I really free of the Order’s grasp, even now? What if I really was born for a destiny that it is too late for me to escape? No matter how much I might not want it anymore, my identity was still made by what other people wanted it to be, so even if that makes me a great sinner and a monster, rather than the saint I was thought I could be, I…wait, Dan Heng? Are you alright?”
Sunday cut himself off quickly, realizing that in his lengthy confession and rambling, he almost failed to notice that he was…troubling Dan Heng, by a great deal. He felt the tension from him ever since the beginning of his reply but didn’t yet see that the feelings he sensed from deep within Dan Heng’s mind, via the passive waves of his own tuning, went well beyond mere sympathy or even a resistance to Sunday’s negation of his sentiment for nothing more than philosophical argument’s sake. No, he could sense…a deep pain inside Dan Heng, that he was actively trying to bury, like some memory of feeling trapped and…small. It was a feeling that brought flashes in Sunday’s mind of being a small child huddled in the corner of a ruined house, holding tightly to his sister’s hand like she might disappear if he didn’t, terrified that the earth would open up and swallow them whole just as it did their mother or that the sky would fall and crush them like it did their neighbors, knowing all too well that no matter what happened, he was helpless both to save her and save himself. It was at the same time the feeling of every doubt he’s ever had about himself growing up with the Family, the price of Gopher Wood’s favor being the scrutiny of every political rival, thinking him too ignorant and small to be in the position he was, just waiting for him to fall…
He didn’t know what Dan Heng was feeling or why, but he immediately regretted bringing back such a terrible memory to mind. Could it be…because of what happened in Penacony…?
“What? I’m…fine,” Dan Heng replied with a shake of his head, although clearly, that was not the case. Even by body language alone Sunday could see how rigid he was.
“No, Dan Heng, I can sense your tension, and I’m truly sorry,” Sunday insisted. “I was being thoughtless, speaking of what happened as I were the victim—I assure you, it’s not at all my intention to deflect responsibility from myself for what I did. I still had a choice, and…I’m afraid the choice I made might have been a traumatizing one for all of you who were trapped in the dream, given how you felt about the memory of it just now—”
“Sunday,” Dan Heng interrupted, leveling his eyes at him with a pointed deadpan that admittedly certainly did its job in getting his attention enough to shut him up. “For someone who can read thoughts, you do seem to be very quick to make inaccurate assumptions about what I mean to say. Yes, what you said brought up an…unpleasant memory for me, just now, but no, it has nothing to do with you. Don’t give yourself that much credit—it was a difficult fight on our end, but I’d hardly call getting trapped in Ena’s dream to be ‘traumatizing’ by any stretch of the word…well, not by my own standards, that is,” he added with a little more hesitation. “I…probably can’t speak for the average person, necessarily, but I am confident I can say the same for the rest of the Crew, at least.”
“Ah, well…that is reassuring to hear.” It wasn’t the first time he has received such an assurance, necessarily, being relieved to know of where he stood with the Express Crew at the very least, although he could still never be sure that he didn’t bring pain to the masses through his misguided attempts to ease their suffering, but he was…perhaps still a little on edge, just now. He wasn’t thinking about this as rationally as he should. “I suppose after a trailblazing journey as long as yours, not much would faze you, anymore,” he acknowledged with a smile, although with Amphoreus still on his own mind, he certainly hoped for their sake that their trailblazing missions weren’t usually as intense as that. “My apologies for jumping to conclusions—I am actively trying to not invade your thoughts, but your feelings were quite palpable, and my tuning is…flaring up a bit, I think,” he explained with a nod towards the bird still on the couch, as odd as it felt to describe tuning as if it were some chronic medical condition and not the blessing of the Harmony it was meant to be for his kind. “In that case, I’m sorry for whatever it was that I said.”
Dan Heng shook his head. “I’m fine, really. Honestly, I’m surprised that whatever feeling the memory brought was that loud to you. It was just, when you were saying those things about destiny, I…” Dan Heng trailed off, his body tensing as he seemed either unable or unwilling to express what it was he felt about that, but even amidst all of that pain, Sunday was surprised and almost—although he feared he was being invasive again to see it in such a way—fascinated to sense such a firm, unshakeable resolve in him, beneath it all…
“Sunday, what you said before, about how you felt about your own power, it made me think of…someone I know, from a long time ago,” Dan Heng began, his previous thought abandoned in favor of this story he had tell, spoken with the cadence with which someone might tell of a legend of their culture shared many times before as a way of giving a lesson, but nevertheless, it wasn’t hard to sense that this was something deeply personal, for Dan Heng, which unlike some legend of old, might be a story only he could tell. “There was…once a man who chose to let his body and soul become one with something larger than himself, which to his people, was considered a great honor, but for him and so many others before him, was also a great sacrifice. When he became one with this thing, this ‘heart,’ his appearance changed to become more like the First who the heart belonged to, and he gained their great, god-like power, the power of a dragon. For this man, both of these things were a source of torment—he had nightmares about being devoured by that dragon he saw as a monster, his body transforming into a shapeshifting shadow of flesh and blood, and he fantasized ripping his own face off and returning it to its owner, for what he saw in the mirror was no longer ‘him.’ When he took the dragon’s form, his ‘self’ and his sense of humanity would fade, and he would see the world through a cold, emotionless eye, the lives of the mortals he otherwise cared so deeply about becoming of no greater value than ants destined to fight and die a greater cause. In his eyes, the power of the dragon was one of destruction, and so, for him, that was what it became. He loathed this power, but even so, I don’t believe he ever truly allowed himself to regret taking it upon himself, because for him, this was his destiny. The ritual that made him into this thing that was not himself was still sacred and eternal, a cycle that should never be broken. If he was crushed underneath this burden, then so be it. He was a willing sacrifice then, and, perhaps because of this…he was all too willing to be a sacrifice yet again, if it would mean saving those he loved the most.”
Dan Heng paused, then, breathing out deeply as he seemed to prepare himself for the turn for the worst this tale would take. “A dear friend of his died in battle, perishing right before his eyes when she sacrificed herself to kill their enemy and save all of them. Something…broke in him, that day, and he decided to bring her back, no matter the cost. At the same time, he would overcome the burden plaguing his people, their lack of ability to reproduce, by at long last creating a new life from what was dead. To do this, he seized the power he hated and defiled the thing he believed was sacred, consuming that which was meant to be eternal. He was prepared to sacrifice himself for this, because for him, this was the only choice left for him that he could accept. This was how he would challenge fate. But then…he fell, in pursuit of the impossible. His actions created an abomination, which killed many people, and he was condemned for it. Even so, when he reflects on this, he says that for any one of those four he counted as his closest friends, who were perhaps the only people in the world who saw him as a person and not as a vessel for power and authority, he would without hesitation do it all again. That…was the ending that he chose for himself, the final end for his nightmare.”
“…I see,” Sunday acknowledged with a slow nod, after a weighty pause. He did not see yet why Dan Heng told him this story, but…it certainly was a heavy one. Even without knowing the details, the weight of the tragedy this man sunk into was a palpable one. “If you don’t mind me asking, this man…appears to be someone you knew very well. Was he…?”
“No, he and I are not the same,” Dan Heng replied readily, as if he were correcting Sunday on the matter. “I…do have some of his memories, however…as well as his dreams.”
“Well, Dan Heng, for such an astute person, you certainly are quick to make inaccurate assumptions about what I mean to say, in this regard,” Sunday said with a slight smile, giving in to the urge to throw Dan Heng’s words back to him, even if it was hardly much of a comparison when this was the first time in this conversation that Dan Heng has done so. “No, I did not believe from the way you told the story nor the man’s character that this man was also you, but I did wonder if he was a close friend, or even family, although now that I say that…I suppose Vidyadhara don’t really have ‘family’ in that way, do they?”
Dan Heng shook his head. “Not exactly, no. Most Vidyadhara are taken in by their elders to be mentored, after reincarnation, but…well, to answer your question, he was my past incarnation, this man that I am talking about.”
“Oh…I see,” Sunday expressed with slightly widened eyes, the explanation making sense, in a way, but also…he had no idea that Dan Heng carried such a burden. He knew that Dan Heng was a Vidyadhara with some connection to the Xianzhou and could sense that the connection was a complicated one, at best, but there was still much he didn’t know about the pasts of the Express Crew members that he now traveled with, which none of them seemed to consider important to their lives in the present. Even now, he didn’t intend to pry anything more out of Dan Heng than what he was willing to share, but…he did sincerely hope for his sake that this tragedy of his past life didn’t follow him into this one, in any way, although it was also not hard to imagine that simply having such terrible dreams and memories in your mind would be a crushing burden, all on their own. “I…suppose my learning about your kind primarily through textbooks would have hardly painted such a complete picture—I was not aware that the Vidyadhara possessed the memories of their previous incarnations,” Sunday mused, acknowledged that he was at the very least learning a lot today, but…
“They don’t,” Dan Heng replied simply, quickly putting an end to that line of thought. “I’m an…exception, to the rule.”
“…oh,” was all Sunday could say, in lieu of asking Dan Heng all the many questions he now inevitably had about this. If he was an exception, then why? Did his predecessors’ actions change the process of reincarnation to leave his memories behind? Or was it something that happened in Dan Heng’s current life that made this occur, like a memoria infection…? Being from such a memoria-dense land himself, he was well aware of the dangers that the Family had to guard against, but it was hard to imagine what could have possibly happened to Dan Heng on the Xianzhou to produce such an extreme effect. Sunday couldn’t help but wonder, but of course, all of that was very much beside the point, probably. He really shouldn’t pry. “That…sounds like an extraordinarily heavy burden to carry,” he said instead, sympathetic to how much pain this must have caused him. “Are you…alright?”
Dan Heng paused as if unsure how to answer, the sea inside his mind seeming equal parts calm and troubled, as if he had known exactly how to keep the turbulence steady for a very, very long time. “Some days are still difficult,” he finally replied, “but I am…better now, than I used to be. I had to face my past, but I have also made my choice to move on from it, and to accept myself…just like my predecessor never let himself do.”
“Never let himself?” Sunday echoed, curious and almost confused by Dan Heng’s wording. “You mean…he never let himself ‘move on’? Did he really ever have that choice?” Sunday hardly knew the full story, but to have such a destructive power consuming him, which at the same time was considered so important to his people…even if he had made different choices and didn’t ever take that risk of resurrecting his friend, could that part have really ever changed?
Dan Heng paused, breathing in deeply as his gaze shifted from the wall back to Sunday. “I don’t know,” he admitted, shaking his head. “I can’t pretend to know how it must have felt. I don’t know what ‘moving on’ would have even looked like for someone like him. We are different, after all—the power that was in him is now the same one that is, in part, part of me, but unlike him, I was born with it. It was never foreign to me. It was me, although for a long time, I couldn’t understand what it meant. In my youth, my elders had an idea of who I was and what I was that I was convinced I had to accept, even though deep down, I think I always knew at the very least that I was ‘Dan Heng’ and not somebody else, even if ‘Dan Heng’ was a monster like they said. But as I said, I am not the same as I used to be. I know exactly who I am, and that is exactly why I must wholeheartedly disagree with what you said, Sunday,” he said, his words so suddenly firm and powerful it instinctively shocked Sunday and would have made him squirm where he sat had he not had so many years of practicing perfect composure, but also…
“I don’t believe our identities are shaped by what others make them to be,” Dan Heng continued, his words firm but his underlying emotion undeniably gentle and genuinely caring in a way that still baffled Sunday even more than the words did. “Our fates are not set in stone, either. Yes, we can’t escape from our past entirely. Our experiences and the people who shaped them will stay with us, in some way. If you or I lived a different life growing up, perhaps we would have turned out to be different than the way we are, but that doesn’t mean that this is where our story ends. I am nobody’s shadow, and neither are you, Sunday. I truly do not believe it matters if it is Gopher Wood, the rest of the Family, or even the ghost of Ena THEMSELF, no one decides who you are but you, no matter what power you possess.”
Sunday almost felt himself freeze, then, feeling so surprised, to hear Dan Heng say that with such conviction, and yet, so…warm, as well. He…really didn’t deserve any of them, did he? Thinking again of the question of who he might have been had his life been different, he thought of his other ‘self,’ Wonweek, and how much he embodied everything that Sunday could never be, and yet…in the end, he didn’t want to be him, either, so rude and so self-serving. However, walking through the streets of the Golden Hour that day with Wonweek materialized by his side, removing any last traces of the Order in hopes to in some way fix everything of the mess he had made before he left his former home behind forever, he knew didn’t want anymore to be the way that ‘Sunday’ was, either. So then, what did that make him? When Mr. Yang invited him to travel with the Express, he felt such a bright sliver of hope despite his doubts and fears, and he thought, perhaps, he could actually find the answer to who he was, somewhere out there in the stars. However, it was only natural that it would take time, before he fully knew that answer, but perhaps…deep down, he still knew at the very least that he was ‘him’, much like what Dan Heng said. He was not a savior, not a god, and he was not merely a bird with broken wings, either, or a creation who failed in its destined task. He was himself, not who he was and not who he could have been, but…something else, perhaps. Something else…that hopefully would be good enough to be worthy of flying once again, one day.
“I…I believe I see what you are saying,” Sunday conceded with a smile, letting himself relax once more even as the concepts of life and fate and identity continued to swirl inside his mind. “And I do apologize, again. I see how what I said must have unwittingly been rather hurtful to you, specifically. But…I am very glad, to hear that you were able to find your path. You are a kind and courageous person, Dan Heng,” he added genuinely, although Dan Heng awkwardly cleared his throat and slightly averted his eyes as soon as he said that.
“Ah, well…my apologies, as well. I feel I got off track. It wasn’t my intention to make any of this about me; I only thought that by sharing his story, I could make a point about how you shouldn’t allow yourself to be defined by the power you have, no matter how disjointed or monstruous it may seem from yourself. You are still you, despite whatever you have been put through, regardless of if it was by someone else’s choice or your own.”
“Ah, I understand.” Sunday nodded, even as a slight laugh escaped him in spite of himself. “I must admit, though, I am glad you told me about yourself, as well. After all, it sounds as if your predecessor tragically died in sorrow, and in stark contrast, you are here. Although I understand there is much wisdom to be gleaned from a cautionary tale, your story is the more encouraging one. It…gives even greater meaning to me, too, for what you said to me back then.”
“What I said back then?” Dan Heng echoed in slight, curious surprise. “At what time?”
“During you and the rest of the crew’s fight with me and the Harmonious Choir,” he replied, still smiling at the memory. “You yelled, ‘don’t be shackled by the past,’ just as you struck me again with an astral manifestation of the Express. We did not really know each other, back then—I had not encountered you in Penacony before everything that happened, unlike the others, and yet, it was almost as if you knew exactly who I was.” Enough to go so far as to say ‘you have a noble soul’ as well, before ‘don’t be shackled by the past,’ although in the time that followed that, while he was left in chains to contemplate his reality and every choice he ever made to lead him here, he hardly found it in himself to believe either statement.
“Well, I had not met you in person, but I knew your story, from the others. You…were quite open about your experiences with them, while they were trapped inside of your mind.”
“Ah…right, yes.” He supposed he did bear himself to them quite a lot, didn’t he? “My apologies for all of that, again.”
At that, Dan Heng snorted in a barely perceptible laugh, relaxing as he shook his head. “You don’t have to worry about that. Honestly, I feel we should be glad that you seem to harbor no hard feelings—somehow, you almost seem to speak of being hit by the Express’s manifestation with fondness,” he said, with the faintest lilt behind his even tone that Sunday was coming to understand meant that Dan Heng was speaking in jest, but he wasn’t wrong, either.
“Well, I suppose it is true what they say,” he replied, smile still relaxed as he looked towards the window and saw his raven standing vigil beside it. “With every ending comes a new beginning.” And he would press forward to that new dawn, no matter what. It was a thought that comforted him, as once again, a comfortable silence fell in between him and Dan Heng, and he calmly watched the window and drank the last of his tea, until…
He then felt his phone buzz inside his pocket.
Sunday opened it up at the same time Dan Heng did, which must mean…
Astral Express Family
>>>March sent a picture
>>>March: sry we’re late, be there in five minutes!!
>>>Stelle: It doesn’t count as being late if you just saved the world
>>>Stelle: the reign of the strawberry pies will never again be tarnished
>>>Stelle: also Paraprince helped and now she’s hungry. Can she come with us?
>>>Himeko: Oh, is that one of your new furbo friends? Sure, she can have dinner with us, if she wants to!
>>>Dan Heng: May I ask why the man in the background of your picture appears to be drowning in strawberry cream?
>>>March: That was the guy who tried to sabotage Maki’s noodle and pie shop! But don’t worry; we stopped him!
>>>Dan Heng: Understood.
>>>Sunday: Yes, my apologies, I distracted Dan Heng from our travels, and we have yet to arrive at the restaurant, either. We will be there shortly!
“Sorry, it seems I lost track of the time again,” Sunday apologized out loud, looking up from the phone to meet Dan Heng’s eyes with an awkward smile. “This usually isn’t like me, but…well, I suppose if you don’t mind teleporting us again, that would make up for lost time.”
“We can do that, but again, don’t worry. They won’t be mad.”
“I suppose not…” Sunday accepted tentatively, although he was unsure of how to explain without explaining everything. However, gratefully, it did seem like he might especially not have to, he thought as he looked back down at the phone with the picture of the selfie March took with Stelle, the furbo, and their new friend, with their defeated foe amidst a mountain of cream in the background. “It seems our companions have an interesting story to tell,” he mused fondly, switching topics. “I look forward to hearing it. I…think I might quite miss their antics, once I am gone,” he added in a much quieter voice, but somehow, it didn’t seem to escape Dan Heng’s notice at all at all.
“I thought I would be a temporary passenger too, back then. That certainly did not last,” he thought to himself while getting up and picking up the dishes, which Sunday was surprised to have accidently eavesdropped into hearing.
“What?” he said out loud in surprise, before he could think better of it.
“Hmm?” Dan Heng looked back at him with a straight face, blinking in innocence, and so, Sunday quickly deflected. Dan Heng was obviously just musing to himself and nothing more, after all.
“Never mind. Let me help you clean up before we go.”
They did just that, returning the dishes to the sink and rinsing them, and then, on their way back to the teleport marker…
“Also, one last thing,” Dan Heng said seriously, before they departed. “About the Phantasmoon Games…it is alright if you wish to win. I don’t know will happen, but if that kind of moment does come, please don’t feel you must concede victory to someone else, even if it is Stelle. Feel free to talk to her about it yourself, but I don’t believe she would want that. Of course, we will all work together and support each other, but when it comes to more personal matters, you can have your own goals too, Sunday. You don’t have to feel like your only role is to support the rest of us.”
Sunday’s eyes widened a bit, somehow managing to be surprised by Dan Heng yet again, even after all of this, and after…well, all of the Express has been nothing but consistently kind to him, in all of this time. “I…thank you, for that. You’re right. I will talk more to Stelle and the others as well. Of course, as you said, we don’t know what will happen. I fear that plenty more trouble will come our way before this is finished, and in that, I am glad to know that we will be together in this, and I…truly hope that everyone will be safe.” From the fate of this planet, and from…whatever his powers may bring to the world himself, as well.
“Of course,” Dan Heng agreed with a nod and a warm smile. “We’ve been through many things already; we will face whatever comes next together. However, one other thing I have learned, in my trailblazing journey thus far, is to cherish the good moments as well, rather than being forever trapped in worry for the trouble ahead. So, let’s get going, now. The others are waiting for us.”
“Yes.” Sunday nodded as well, relaxing once more as he followed Dan Heng through the Space Anchor, his raven flying behind him to rest on his shoulder. “I suppose they are.”