Yuki caught her meaning, and a teasing smile curved his lips.
"Are you sure about that?"
He stepped closer—just one step—closing the distance between them. Gently, he tilted her chin upward, his dark, fathomless eyes meeting hers.
"What if I said I wanted you, Himeko? Would you still insist on repaying me?"
Himeko's heart lurched.
His gaze was like staring into the cosmos itself—deep, infinite, drawing her in. She felt herself falling into it, mesmerized.
Her breathing quickened. A rosy flush crept across her pale, elegant cheeks.
Her lips—red as cherries—parted slightly. A soft swallow. She was about to speak, to form some kind of answer—
And then Yuki released her.
"Just joking."
He turned slightly, offering her his profile. "You've probably noticed—I brought March 7th here because I wanted you to take her with you when the Express launches. That's repayment enough. She wants to be a Nameless."
Himeko blinked, pulling herself back to reality. She forced the fluttering in her chest to settle.
"I see... If I may ask, what is little March to you?"
She kept her voice steady, but beneath it lurked something else—disappointment. And regret.
Yuki considered the question. "How should I put it... a friend, I suppose?"
"A friend?" The hesitation in his voice made her curious.
Yuki explained—the version of events he and March 7th had agreed upon. He'd found her frozen in space, sealed in ice. Rescued her. She had no memories, not even her own name. "March 7th" came from the date she was freed.
It wasn't a lie, exactly. Just... edited.
Himeko's expression softened with sympathy. "How tragic... the poor girl."
She shook her head gently. "But even without your request, the Nameless welcome anyone who dreams of the stars."
Yuki nodded. "Then I'll trust her to you."
They shared a smile—a silent agreement.
For a while, neither spoke. The silence between them grew.
And with it, something else. Awareness. Tension.
Himeko's thoughts drifted back to Yuki's earlier joke. Her pulse quickened again. They were alone now—just the two of them in this grand, empty hall. The air itself seemed to thicken.
She nervously twirled a strand of hair around her finger, her gaze flickering toward him and away. Her lips parted, then closed. She wanted to say something. She didn't know how.
Ten minutes passed.
Finally, she made up her mind.
"Just now, you—"
Himeko's words were cut off by the sudden slam of a door and a shriek.
"Waaah! Yuki! Ghost—there's a ghost!!"
March 7th leaped down from the platform leading to the driver's cabin and dove behind Yuki, clutching his sleeve, trembling violently.
"A ghost?" Himeko's eyes flickered with a hint of disappointment before narrowing in skepticism. "Impossible."
March 7th's face was pale with genuine fear. "I'm serious, Sister Himeko! In the driver's cabin, I saw a shadow behind me. When I turned around—nothing. Then it was behind me again! I turned again—still nothing! What else could it be?!"
She shuddered, pressing closer to Yuki.
"What did it look like?" Himeko asked, curiosity piqued.
March 7th scratched her head, brow furrowed. "Uh... does that matter? I was too scared to look closely!"
She paused, thinking. "But... I did notice its arms and legs were really short. And its head was tall—like it was wearing a hat."
She snapped her fingers. "Oh! And there were these two long things hanging from its head... maybe ears?"
Himeko frowned, thinking. "Short limbs... ears? What could that be?"
Yuki already knew exactly what March 7th had seen.
The "ghost" was none other than Pom-Pom—the conductor of the Astral Express. The beloved mascot of the entire Honkai: Star Rail universe.
Pom-Pom's origins were a mystery even in the game. Himeko and the others never knew when or how Pom-Pom had boarded the train—they had simply always been there. Some players theorized that Pom-Pom was Akivili, the fallen Aeon of Trailblaze, transformed.
But later lore disproved that. Pom-Pom had been the conductor even while Akivili was still aboard.
That only deepened the mystery.
One thing was certain: Pom-Pom's existence was inseparable from the Express itself.
And in truth, that was exactly the case.
When Yuki had restored the Express, he'd examined it thoroughly—every bolt, every beam, every hidden corner. He already understood the truth: the Express was part of Pom-Pom, or perhaps Pom-Pom was the Express itself.
That's why, in the original story, Himeko never found Pom-Pom during repairs. But once the train sailed among the stars, a lop-eared conductor suddenly appeared—no one knew when or how they had boarded.
Because they had always been there.
"You don't need to guess," Yuki said calmly. "It's not a ghost. It's the conductor of this train."
He smiled toward the corridor March 7th had fled from. "Isn't that right, Pom-Pom?"
March 7th and Himeko both stared, bewildered.
"Oh! This passenger actually knows Pom-Pom!"
A voice came from the shadows. A silhouette stretched long against the floor, shortening as the figure approached.
March 7th gasped. "That's it! That's the ghost's shadow!"
Himeko tensed, her golden eyes fixed on the shrinking silhouette. What kind of creature would emerge from the darkness?
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