Kenta narrowed his eyes, trying to reconcile the trio standing in the snow with the grainy, low-res fragments of his memory.
The tall woman in gray was the first to draw his gaze. She had a cold, mature elegance, her face framed by hair the color of starlight and stone—but her expression was a complete vacuum. She looked less like a hero and more like a high-end android that had forgotten its primary directive.
Next to her, the pink-haired girl was a jarring burst of saturation against the white wasteland. She radiated a youthful, almost aggressive vibrancy that made Kenta's cynical soul ache. Then there was the man: dark hair, a spear strapped to his back, and an aura of stoic gravity. He looked extraordinary, but more importantly, he looked familiar.
They don't look a day over twenty, Kenta noted, ignoring the fact that he looked exactly the same. Probably some trust-fund explorers looking for a thrill in the frost.
He turned to leave, unwilling to get dragged into whatever mess follows "main characters," but a snippet of conversation caught his ear.
"I just hope this trailblazing journey goes smoothly for once," the pink-haired girl sighed, her bob shimmering in the pale light.
Kenta's boots froze in the slush. Trailblazing?
The mental gears ground together until they sparked. He'd seen this exact composition in a "Top 10 Fails" video back on Earth. The gray-clad hollow girl, the pink ball of energy, and the serious spearman.
The Astral Express.
Kenta's internal monologue screamed. If the main cast was here, the plot was officially in motion. And in a world with "Honkai" in the title, "motion" usually involved planetary-scale disasters and emotional trauma.
Honkai, please, find someone else to haunt, he cursed silently. He turned back to approach them, but the spot was suddenly empty. He spun around, frantic. "Where did they go? Where is my massive plot-armor delivery—"
He stopped dead. A flashy, blue-haired man was now standing with them. Or rather, the man was currently stuck headfirst in a snowdrift while the trio looked on in confusion.
Kenta's fists tightened instinctively. "Sampo!"
"Uh, what exactly am I looking at?" March 7th asked, her voice cautious as she looked between the handsome stranger who had just appeared and the pair of blue-clad legs kicking feebly in the snow.
"Oh, ignore that," Kenta said, offering a thin, practiced smile. "Just disposing of some Belobog trash. My name is Kenta."
The pink-haired girl didn't seem interested in the details of the "disposal." She brightened instantly. "I'm March 7th! And this is Xing," she said, gesturing to the gray-haired girl, "and that's Dan Heng."
Kenta offered a polite nod to the others, but his skin crawled when he reached Dan Heng. The spearman wasn't just looking at him; he was dissecting him. There was a fervent, searching quality in Dan Heng's eyes that made Kenta subtly shift his weight and move a few inches to the left.
Why is he looking at me like I'm a long-lost relative? Kenta thought, a cold sweat breaking out. My personal space is sacred, buddy. Keep your brooding mystery on your side of the ridge.
"We are Trailblazers from the Astral Express," Dan Heng said, his voice level but his eyes never wavering from Kenta's face. "We're here because something on this planet is interfering with the Express's navigation."
"Ah, the Astral Express," Kenta said, nodding with sage-like wisdom he didn't actually possess. "I've heard... things. Many things."
March's eyes went wide. "Really? Our reputation precedes us even here?"
"I have no idea who you are," Kenta replied flatly.
March's face fell, her expression melting into a pout of pure confusion. "Then why did you say—"
"Habit," Kenta shrugged. "It makes people feel important. Helps with the haggling."
Before March could launch into a protest, Xing—who had been silent as a statue—stepped forward. She leaned in close, her golden eyes scanning Kenta's face with unsettling intensity.
"Have we met?" she whispered.
Kenta didn't flinch, though his pulse quickened. He leaned back slightly, trying to reclaim his air supply. "Miss Trailblazer, you're very pretty, but the 'haven't we met before' line died out decades ago. If you want my number, you'll have to try harder than that."
He expected a blush or an eye-roll. Instead, Xing's eyes began to sparkle with genuine, terrifying curiosity. She looked like a puppy that had just been told it was going for a walk.
Don't be interested! Kenta screamed internally. It was a joke!
"Hey! Did everyone just decide to forget about old Sampo?"
The blue-haired rogue finally yanked his head out of the snow, gasping for air.
"Oh, you're still breathing?" Kenta sighed with exaggerated disappointment. "What a shame. I was looking forward to the inheritance."
Xing, however, wasn't looking at Sampo. She pressed a hand to her chest, her expression one of profound realization. There's no mistake, she thought. This feeling... it's like discovering a perfectly pristine, overflowing garbage can in a back alley. She didn't know how she knew him, but her instincts—the same ones that drew her to the treasures of the trash—told her that Kenta was someone she could never truly lose.
"Anyway," Sampo said, brushing snow off his coat and slinging an arm over Kenta's shoulder. "Since we're all friends here... Kenta, old pal, what brings you to this neck of the woods?"
"Moving merchandise," Kenta said, patting his pack. "Heading to the black market. I need a new alias, though. My last one got a bit... scorched."
"Aiya, I can help with that!" Sampo grinned. "By the way, I had to borrow the credits you hid under your floorboards. Investment opportunity, you understand."
Kenta's expression went dead. A flicker of black flame licked at the edge of his sleeve.
"Don't look at me like that!" Sampo laughed nervously. "I'll pay you back! I'll even help you with your new identity. What are you calling yourself this time?"
Kenta stared at him for a long, cold moment. "Sampo."
The two men locked eyes. A second passed, then two. Simultaneously, they both burst into appreciative, devious laughter. It was the sound of two sharks recognizing a fellow predator.
The Express trio watched the exchange in stunned silence.
"So," Dan Heng interrupted, his voice cutting through the sociopathic bonding session. "Do you know where the nearest settlement is?"
"Belobog is just over the ridge," Kenta said, regaining his composure. "The last bastion of humanity. But don't expect a red carpet. The Silvermane Guards are paranoid, and the entry requirements are a nightmare for 'unregistered' travelers."
March 7th tilted her head, her pink-and-blue eyes blinking in rapid succession. "Wait, I have a question."
Kenta braced himself for a tactical inquiry. "Go ahead."
"If the security is so strict and the gates are always locked," March said earnestly, "how do the guards get in?"
The silence that followed was absolute. Kenta stared at her, waiting for the punchline. It never came.