Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

"I have always thought my story would end but it seems I have always been predestined for a fresh beginning."

Sunday, revered Oak family head turned prisoner, spoken aloud for the first time since awakening from a dream of conspiracy, ideals, duels and an answer. He had little idea how long it had been ever since he was barged in by the Hounds, shackled and tossed into a gilded cage under their watchful eye. He didn't know how long had it been since the Hounds, all different people, had come to him and demanded answers that Sunday will not or cannot give. This was the first time in reality ever since awakening from his performance in the Charmony Festival that Sunday had even spoken.

And yet, it was not to a Hound that demanded a truth Sunday had never been able to grasp nor anyone else in the room given to him for solitude, privacy without any visitors except for unfriendly ones. He had been certain if Robin knew of his plight, she would have done anything to at least paid him a visit which she could certainly accomplish with all her tricks up her sleeve from her idol experience. 

He was sure, except for the Hounds, none would know Sunday's location. Not even many would be aware he was caught in the first place, since what could be called betrayal was so sudden for all Family members to even understand what went on in the first place. Yet, Sunday had heard a rap from the window that had broken his moment of solitude and prompted the use of his voice, for a possibly friendlier visit.

This time, he was less surprised to see the young stowaway Firefly perched on the window as she was let in quickly without fuss. She looked at him calmly, most definitely having heard Sunday's statement before turning to a slight frown.

"Have you always known?" Firefly asked softly, to mean many things but with anyone watching them, it was not elaborated but after everything that happened, Sunday felt he could guess accurately about what Firefly wanted to point out.

Had he always known that Firefly was meant to visit him? Had he always known that he would be offered an escape? Had he always known...

"I've known ever since your leader's invitation was sent to me. It was a masterfully written script, something even I couldn't evade to the very end. And here we are now, with me being invited into destiny by a flame-bathed raven," Sunday finally said.

"Just because our leader has spoken in poet doesn't mean you have to do the same," Firefly grumbled but did not look confused at Sunday's words, indeed confirming his right assumption about the poem he had gotten in Dreamflux Reef. Incomprehensible to some, but meaningful to only certain people. He could still remember when he had thought he would die and meet his sister, only to wake up in Dreamflux Reef far away from the more beautiful Dreamscape that the Family maintained and confronting Gallagher. 

He remembered being led by the stowaway Firefly where she had bumped into him 'accidentally' and he felt something in his pocket and feeling a piece of paper. He would read it later after his tearful reunion with Robin, where he was aware that they both felt this was the last time their paths would ever cross. As Halovians, they could communicate their emotions through telepathic means and as siblings, they were more in tune to read each other better and only one message stuck out, as disbelieving as it felt at first.

It was unfortunately confirmed when Sunday took his time to read the paper left by Firefly when he was able to get away from Robin and Welt Yang when they agreed to confront the Dreammaster so he could understand the stowaway's actions. What he read, a poem only meant for a certain someone with vivid recollections of the past and a readable future that should be one of the possibilities and yet set to stone like certain destiny.

He had promptly discarded it, there and then, in disbelief with what he read but knowing deep down of a nearing inevitability. And now that he stood here with Firefly after everything came to pass, he can no longer deny Destiny's Slave and his band of Stellaron Hunters as well as their invite after his crushed dreams and after finally finding an answer.

"If you want me to be more frank, Ms. Firefly, then you will have to take me to a place where I can do just that," Sunday said, stepping forward and reaching out for her hand. Once enemies opposing each othe due to conflicting views, they were about to become allies in a faction by an all-seeing and elusive master. Sunday would have thought that Firefly would have her doubts about him joining her group when all things was said and done but it was not like the Stellaron Hunters were a righteous bunch to begin with. 

After all, for whatever reason, they wanted to recruit Sunday. He had thought long and hard about the invitation, of the prepared destiny and the outcome. Throughout fulfilling his mission for the Order, an agenda that he had pushed through among other agendas from many different factions for the best wishes of Penacony, he had asked a lot of questions. To the Nameless that he predicted would shatter his dream, to Firefly who he had guessed and now confirmed as a Stellaron Hunter, to his own sister and even the "Dreammaster" when he was trying to find out how much of the destiny was true, how much could it have been broken and what truth lied beneath all the entangled agendas of every faction invited by the foolhardy Watchmaker.

A truth he thought he could override if the Order's agenda had come through, determined to cover up an unknown future with a sweet dream for everyone, especially Robin after he almost lost her but after the Nameless' determination and their own answer, whatever comes to Penacony, he believed they will all eventually wake up from the nightmares sowed by other hiding and scheming villains out there. After all, has the Watchmaker's legacy been done right? And the Stellaron itself? Not to mention the IPC...

Since he was no longer the Oak family head, it was no longer truly his concern and yet he still couldn't help ponder about Penacony's fate where he had been raised in and meant to lead. All down the drain now, but all for the greater good despite his loss.

Eventually, throughout the Order's schemes, he was given a lot of answers, and he received a fair result. And he had made his choice. What he did not expect was Robin to jump after him, but it did not change what he would rather do, as cruel as it was to ask his sister for a finale of his story.

'The victor bears the responsibility of victory. Finish me... and fly to the sky.'

At that time, it felt a righteous and orderly decision for a neat conclusion after their duel. For the villain to exit stage left and the heroes to pick up the pieces. There was nothing else left to be said, nothing else left to be done. With his only sister, Sunday felt that she might have been disgusted of what he had done and to free her from the shackles that she never wanted, Sunday gave her an opportunity. 

Even when, deep down, he had selfishly done this for his sister especially when they confronted the "Dreammaster" who had became aware of Robin's stance and Sunday had to make his choice. With the ravens watching and his sister in front of him, he truly knew what was important. And Robin would never need to know, keeping an illusion that Sunday wished was their reality than what they experienced now.

But Robin, with all her love and her own righteousness, refused because how could she kill her own brother? How could she not fly to the sky with her brother but Sunday never wanted to disillusioned her, until he had no choice when he said if only he could fly in the sky.

He never wanted to disillusioned her more, even when the aftermath finally came and he was here at the very end of the poem that Destiny's Slave had provided, having asked a lot, trying to alter it in some course and yet meeting the same ending. So Sunday chose to reciprocate in kind. This too, was its own order and without swaying his own ideals, maybe he can still salvage a dream.

The future was unknown but he had so much he still wanted to do in the end when given such a chance for his own ambitions. If he was granted this respite, especially from his beloved sister, then the answer was clear.

Firefly had reached out to him, but stopped short. Her eyes were burning with questions but only one came out:

"You know, this is the last time you would be seeing Robin when you join us. Don't... you want to see her one last time?"

Sunday can only give one simple answer, "Robin doesn't need to see me. She shouldn't see me, if she wanted to keep the paradise in her dreams alive."

Although Firefly gave a complicated look at Sunday's answer, she had accepted it and now turned into SAM, the Stellaron Hunter Sunday was more familiar with and especially more reminiscent to the details of the poem to fly away from the prying eyes of the Family, whether it be both the ravens or the hounds that had once served as mere shackles to Sunday in Penacony. 

It would be some time later that Sunday would be more privy to the script that Destiny's Slave held with interest to the Nameless about Penacony's story in the aftermath of their battle with him. It was the line '-and a brother and sister were doomed for eternal separation.' It would explain Firefly's complicated expression, maybe sympathy to the idea of a brother and sister who love each other possibly being separated by opposing paths.

Honestly, even if Sunday never found out, he would not change it for the world. The moment he met Robin again in Dreamflux Reef and heard her declaration not to sing for the Charmony Festival, reading that letter from Destiny's Slave, negotiating and following along with the "Dreammaster" and now being a wanted criminal affliated with Destiny's Slave by a script he was powerless to alter, he would have stayed away from Robin firmly convicted by the fact that his presence might harm her reputation as an idol and further disillusion her of the big brother he wanted to always be in her eyes.

Robin might have said they were supposed to fly together but ever since childhood, he firmly believed she alone could soar higher than anyone else with her brother's arms to catch her if she ever fell. Even if the situation had changed, he would always wish for her protection and if that meant staying away from her, to keep the dream of her stardom and the happiness she strived for alive, then he was happy to make that sacrifice. After all, what was one more in the grand scheme of things?

Until then, he would work his way towards his own dreams with the offered opportunity and he hoped that Robin could do the same.

Chapter Text

Robin found out too late. She could feel it in her bones. When she saw an empty room and an opened window with Bloodhounds gasping behind her in shock, it was all the confirmation she needed.

Even after finding Sunday's journal, she still had not given up despite her limited access from the Hounds in her quest to know of Sunday's fate. She wasn't deaf to any rumors she had picked up from other Family members, after falling with her brother to survive together after refusing to kill him and yet never seeing him again while hearing no official news about Sunday's fate. He might be injured since Penacony's sweet dreams no longer guarantee people to wake up alright after relinquishing Order's grasp but she knew her brother was made of stronger stuff. She had to believe it so, because she did not want their last meeting to truly be the last. 

Back to the rumours, it was said that he was captured by the Bloodhounds while investigators from the Family and even the IPC alike combed through the rest of the Family to interrogate members about remaming Order remnants that had tried to usurp the Harmony which was a heinous act of betrayal especially surprising for the Dreammaster who had unified the five Families and from the Oak family that was the 'unofficial' leader under the Dreammaster's wing even when the Harmony is unified equally under THEIR light.

Thinking it like that, Robin could only find hypocrisy especially with how some Family members chose to speak ill against the 'villains' and even thinking about how their own Family like the Alfafas could start 'leading' the Family instead of the Oaks. Robin was honestly not amused, but she had bigger fish to fry. 

Even as a sister, she had been denied any knowledge about Sunday's whereabouts, let alone a visit to where she just wanted a chance to talk to her brother, to ask him to open up to his little sister for once, to get an explanation and talk it out and maybe even apologize to what they had been both blind to. Robin knew that her brother had the kindest intentions, idealistic despite his pessimism even after the Trailblazer recounted what Sunday had said and done to the Nameless when Robin was MIA. He was pursuing the paradise in their dreams, with only one option as misguided as it was and with the final results before them.

Robin still wonders why. Robin was still unsure what had happened all these years for Sunday to take a path that could never cross her own, when he should have known the implications. When he should have known that all the promises and deals they made, wishing under stars and growing up together as the only real family members to each other among the Family...

Even now, Robin was sure that Sunday was as much her big brother as she was his little sister. She was sure he had never forgotten their promises and dreams as much as she had. She had seen it for herself when her brother incapacitated her and Welt within his own consciousness, allowing glimpses of his true self lied bare just like that. 

She and Welt had been separated in the prison of his mindscape, with Robin understanding the tuning process enough to understand what had happened. It was unfortunate her brother was somehow better at the tuning process, more knowledgable to close any loopholes and thus escape until her own brother freed her. But because he trapped her in his own mindscape, it meant that he was opening up to her, to explain while he was planning some grand scheme about the Order when her brother might have known that she would be hurt by what felt like betrayal.

Sunday could not hide anything from Robin within the mindscape, with their childhood most prevalent when finding a hint of an escape. The emotions easily felt, so strong and deeply rooted that she understood Sunday never had his ideals swayed, always cherished the dreams that they sowed so young. It was just that his ideals had been taken towards a different direction, with many events that birth a pessimism always prevalent in her brother that formed his cautious nature into growing to something closer to paranoia. The Charmony Dove, his time as the Bronze Melodia and...

Robin never knew that her brother even knew she was shot while on tour. She never said, because she didn't want to worry her brother who always shouldered so many responsibilities and supported her that she didn't want to burden him now that she was going out to fulfill as many dreams as possible. Now, she had thought about what if she had been more forthright, and maybe instead of leaving each other in their own silence, they could have continued working together just like in their childhood.

They could have been more forthright with each other, with the truth, with the entangled agenda in today's Penacony that hadn't really been wrapped up neatly yet and they could have found some way together to continue the same path instead of going their opposite ways.

Destiny was just cruel like that, like how it was cruel now when Robin stepped into the empty room before any of the Hounds could stop her and lamented that it might be a long time yet that she could once again meet her brother. It was in the same way with how she felt in Dreamflux Reef and her intuition was one that would not be triffled with.

"Hey, stop standing around here! He mustn't have gotten very far," a Hound barked orders towards the rest, including Robin who had disguised herself as a new Hound recruit that was now trusted enough to at least be let in about the top traitor's whereabouts.

She had been disguising herself while going for reconaissance both in reality and outside of a dream away from the prying Hounds' eyes who claimed that they were protecting Robin when in fact they were restraining her away from finding out the truth of her brother's fate. Whether it be because the IPC was still at large and could use what the Family was calling the 'Sunday Incident' to their advantage or because the Family was still hiding things with more traitors within and simply cutting Sunday off, the Hounds held Sunday's whereabouts close to their chests. Even then, Robin had suspected that while she had heard the Family had been capturing traitors, Sunday might still have escaped somewhere in the dream and simply trying to achieve their dream... ideal thoughts they may be.

It was only now that Robin had been able to uncover where Sunday had been when she observed the Hounds' through various disguises and gotten brownie points as a secret Hound to butter the rest up for any inkling about Sunday's whereabouts and finally be allowed to help on Sunday's interrogation, at least finally confirming that he is indeed alive and somewhat alright if he could be interrogated. And now, just when she was ready, to know where Sunday was and meet him again later, this had to happen.

Robin was thankful to be in disguise, allowing her around this latest crime scene for any hint of her brother's whereabouts. It was easy to infer that he made an escape from the opened windows but even if Sunday could fly through the window, the Hounds must have known about that kind of escape route and guarded it in a way that would dismiss such an idea in the first place. The Hounds could not have been that careless to let a high profile traitor escape that easily and yet here is the evidence, or lack thereof that showcases a clean exit.

Maybe someone helped Sunday escape, but who and why? Robin naturally went close to the window while the rest of the Hounds fanned out for any hint of where Sunday could have gone to. Her eyes roamed around the place, until she spotted ash around the window. Looking further, it didn't seem like anything really burned so where would something like this even come from?

She looked out from the window briefly, seeing a galaxy outside the hotel but nothing of note to pinpoint Sunday's escape route or possible accomplice. On the windowsill, she had seen more of ash but was surprised by what it spelled out:

'Dreamflux Reef'

She rubbed her eyes again, but the words remained the same. Looking at the other Hounds, she secretly wiped away those words as she leaned in towards the window, wondering whether she can reach out for her brother, who might be in a dream or far away from her homeland. Her halo vibrated above her head but did not sense any other, especially one most familar among her surroundings.

Before anyone else could suspect her of anything, she had turned away from the window and continued investigating, even when she was given a good clue she did not want the other Hounds to be privy of.

It was not in her brother's handwriting, but the ashes and it was written in a hurry but it was something. It was likely that someone helped her brother escape, for their own agenda and maybe not necesarrily in good hands. Once again, Sunday's fate was left unknown even when she was this close to meeting him again.

Yet the accomplice left a clue that anyone could find and might be unintelligable for anyone who does not know about Dreamflux Reef, but it was good fortune that Robin found it and she was not one to waste it. She had also noticed that although she found something from the accomplice, there were no traces of her own brother.

Briefly, she remembered the time they free-falled, even after the silence and the comfort of a hug before they reached to the ground, to plummet instead of fly. She remembered when Sunday asked to finish him, when they were supposed to fly together. And Robin refused, leaving them to crash as Robin woke up to find her brother no more. It was something she would take her grave, telling no one and not even to the Trailblazer she found herself trusting to help find clues of her brother.

She wondered whether her own brother thought she might be better off without him. Robin clenched her fists, trying not to outwardly show the emotions she was now feeling lest she get caught by the Hounds. Digging up new resolve, she knows that she cannot change her past but for the future...

'I will find you brother, and this time, for all my regrets... you will hear from me and we will talk. And then, no matter what happens to the both of us, you will truly know that I am still your little sister. I will never be better off without you,' Robin silently promised to herself.

She could only wish that a certain someone was here, if only to answer, 'It's a deal.'

Chapter Text

In hindsight, Sunday should have known about life's unexpected twists and turns. As much as he prefered the routine and predictability life can offer, in the plans and schemes and preparing everything to the clothes, life will always throw out circumstances beyond's one control that forces you to just flow through with it without any resistance.

That was what happened when Sunday and his family faced a Stellaron disaster and lost his mother, leaving two siblings homeless and on his own. It was only by the Harmony's grace that the siblings had been adopted to the Family and raised for greatness, a new chance of life and to dream, by the Dreammaster himself.

Then, there was Sunday wishing Robin well for her idol journey when they made promises to unite the people around the galaxies with wonder to the Harmonious Choir and dreams of being a Chordmaster by becoming a star but at great danger that Sunday didn't know when Robin was shot by a stray bullet to the neck and thank the Harmony, was still alive.

Robin never knew that Sunday knew and out of respect kept it a secret when Robin never brought it up but there were times that he wished he could help, like he always done when she pursued her dream of stardom. But they started living different lives back then, him being a rising leader of the Oak Family and her a superstar of the galaxy.

They were still as close as ever but had a certain distance when it came to their problems and duties of their lives. As much as he wanted to protect her, even if it meant locking her in a cage, he couldn't bring himself to forsake her dreams and could only watch over her, powerless planets away if anything else were to happen to her. Sometimes, it made Sunday wish he never suggested her to be a star but he also knew it was something he would not take back, for his sister's happiness and for the beautiful dreams to come true. But at what cost, he would sometimes think. When he remembered a certain Charmony Dove, how he wished it to live, no matter what and realized he wished the same for many whether it be the people close to him or anyone else who deserved to live a full life and never experiencing tragedy like Sunday and Robin had during the Stellaron crisis when they were children.

Then recently, when it felt like Sunday might have a semblance of control in this erratic life with his fear of the unknown, with his wish to never wake from a dream, the Charmony Festival was uprooted with many invitations to factions all over the galaxy that was unauthorized by the Family and yet something they had to roll with for the Harmony. And something that caused a chain of events that caused Robin's 'death' that should not have happened after its presence didn't appear for a while. 

He was even helpless to investigate and even with his tricks, he couldn't do much except go with the flow while working behind the scenes because losing the only family member he had left, one that meant so much to him... was something he could never come to terms with, until he satisfied himself with served justice. And he still remembered how everything flip on its own head when he realized that she was still alive and what the Watchmaker and his lackey had done and was forced to make a choice.

A choice he would do all over again, for surface level reasons the "Dreamaster" would have been satisfied with and deeper reasons he would take to his grave, when it involved the well-being of people dear to him and never swaying ideals.

And now, here he was when everything was over and done with nothing but a shattered dream and fearful reality. Despite such loss and odds stacked against him, Sunday felt an odd calmness to the point of nothing that felt scary in and of itself when such situations caused him unease. The calmness persisted greatly at the current flow of his life out of his control, when he was seated in a starship with yet another passenger who was observing him cooly.

"Am I that interesting to you, Miss Kafka?" Sunday asked casually, a feat his past self would not expect when this was an extremely wanted criminal sitting before him. Then again, with his escape, he was about to become a wanted criminal himself so he had no room about having higher ground in this conversation.

He had long since fallen from being a revered head of the Oak Family but he found himself surprisingly comfortable with such a downfall. Restarting at a blank slate doesn't sound too bad, even when giving up the life of an upright civilian and resigning to a true life of survival of the fittest when he's undoubtedly going to be a wanted criminal but he surprised himself by finding it refreshing.

Maybe, blasphemous thought as it was, he found it better than being surrounded by servants and a master no different from each other and of the ravens that watch everywhere as long as the dream was still flourishing. Thus, so used to perching ravens and their eyes staring from above, a feeling that always tingled his back, made him used to Kafka's staring, equally enticing and ephemeral that while it did not unnerve Sunday, it prompted him to start a conversation that should have started the moment he met Kafka.

"Well, let's just say that I'm particularly charmed to meet such an interesting individual, and to recruit after such a bombastic event," Kafka answered smoothly.

"Then, why stare instead of ask?" Sunday asked, and Kafka smiled.

"Well, I wanted to see where first impressions would lead me to. For example, whether the person I will meet even seems capable of everything that has and will happen. Makes me feel like appearance is skin deep."

Sunday crossed his arms, the contemplative and serious expression never leaving him. He found himself in a particularly luxurious spaceship that Firefly provided access combined with a perception filter to avoid any prying eyes. Waiting for him inside one of the rooms reserved in the ticket was Kafka, standing near the window that had now showed passing planets embarking to location unknown. When he had asked  where he was going, Kafka did not even deign to answer and simply stared which brought them to present time.

Sunday did not like not knowing because not knowing meant risk of danger, of unknown encounters that would set him back or not being able to prevent any of his loved one's danger they never needed to go through in the first place...

Deep down, he wondered why Robin never told him about where she was really going for her idol tour. Why she thought he was better off not knowing that the Dreamaster had to tell him what a brother should have a right to know when his sister  was off to danger like that. He could never bring himself to ask, because Robin never knew Sunday personally visited her on that dreadful day to ensure her well-being but felt powerless to do anything else that could prevent tragedies like that happening. Sometimes he wished he was like the Dreamaster who seemed to have everything under control and knowing it all. To have power, and yet... 

He had wished to be confided, to know for the ease of his heart but in the end, the both said little of what happened behind the scenes in achieving a dream and in believing everything was alright with one another, to show to their only family member that they were truly fine and keeping their paradises alive to one another and only confiding when it could possibly affect the other to warn them like the protective and caring siblings they were to each other.

"Hmm, now who's the one staring at who? Although it seems you were seeing somewhere far away than right here. Don't tell me, you miss your home?" Kafka asked.

Even now, he could not stop thinking about his sister and about their dreams that now surround with what-ifs when the situation before him should let Sunday focus on his present. But the idle chatter without much information, the soft music from a gramaphone on a table near the window separating him and Kafka by a small amount and being witheld of any knowledge that Sunday would like to grasp starting from the mysterious poem to the Stellaron Hunter's agenda had created a mind for idle thought about a past that might relate to the future and reminiscing past regrets and what-ifs to wonder whether things could have been done differently.

At the very least, he never wanted Robin to figure out about Sunday's true affliation nor the conspiracy that had to happen so soon. It would have happened regardless, but Sunday rather things be done on his own terms, that's all.

Back to Kafka's question, Sunday stared distantly at the window, the luxurious hotel that was once his home a distant star far away now and blandly answered, "If I was going to miss my home, I would not have done anything to risk myself from getting kicked out, now would I? If me leaving is meant for greater things to Penacony, I would not mind starting my dreams afresh either, Miss Kafka. After all, Mr. Sam still seems to be following a script for Penacony if he still stayed back and along with helping my escape from Penacony despite how we were on opposite sides, I would like to believe my recruitment might play to something deeper than a simple invitation, something I would like to know instead of travelling in silence."

Kafka hummed, sounding as if she disbelieved the answer about whether he missed home or not but decided to follow along with Sunday's subject change, and finally get down to business.

"How can you say that we are travelling in silence when we have lovely music playing around us?" Kafka asked, her voice beguiling that Sunday felt wary of knowing her own capabilities and yet made no move, "And who's to say we didn't recruit you just because we are short on hands and we were simply charmed by your handsome mug?"

So much for finally getting down to business. Sunday was not amused and he showed it clearly on his face towards Kafka who kept up her intriguing smile.

"You also can't follow along a joke like Bladie, huh?" Kafka asked, sounding disappointed despite her smile, "Maybe one day we will figure out how to lighten people like you up, but as the former Oak Family Head raised by the Dreammaster, I am sure you know yourself why you are escaping from the planet itself instead of laying low. Otherwise, you might not have followed along and simply stayed where you are instead of letting Sam break you out."

Kafka did not say much, keeping her cards close to her chest. Observing him, making idle chatter and now this. One would think that she was simply testing him. For her penchant of humour, it was easier to believe that she might be joking but Sunday knew that they were going somewhere and after everything that happened, he had nothing to lose.

He had no watchful eye from the sky listening orders from the sun to judge his karma and exploit his weaknesses.

"Penacony is still facing against the IPC over the rights to the planet and thanks to a certain gambler might even have a few chips to help with the case. With what I have done, it also left the Family at a certain disadvantage if they are forced to negotiate the rights of Penacony. Either way, I could be used either by the IPC or the Family to make or break any further negotations. My escape would make things complicated, giving enough time for anyone with other agendas to make certain moves. Maybe, someone will find out the true master of the Stellaron and considering how you call yourselves Stellaron Hunters, finally swoop in to accomplish what you sought out for."

He looked straight to Kafka after, who never let go of her beguiling smile and simply said, "The show must go on after all. Elio really does make interesting choices in particular with his recruits when setting up the script to that predestined ending. Even so..."

Kafka now rummaged around her coat, taking out a file as she almost reached it out to Sunday, with him knowing well it is a certain script of sorts considering the context of this conversation but she stopped short of truly placing it to Sunday's now outstretched hand when she continued saying:

"Let me indulge my curiosity. You might already be a wanted criminal but taking this script now means that you will embark on a path unlike how you tread the Harmony and Order. A true fall of grace for the former Oak Family Head and yet you were about to take it without any hesitation. What drives you to such lengths?"

Sunday simply smiled, possibly keeping his own cards close to his chest and yet answering with the most sincerity he could muster for what some others might regard as a disbeleving ideal after everything he had done:

"Simply for the paradise of our dreams, why else?"

Kafka had once again looked a little disbelieving for a split second, before she returned to her amiable and beguiling self before she set the file on the table for Sunday to take, to read and finally understand.

He didn't even hesitate, flipping the script's first page for a start to yet another poem from the last one that he was given. From Death of the Crow to Birth of the Raven, with a slightly shorter poem serving as some welcome message giving way to Destiny Slave's script:

Nevermore, you have heard the raven cried
And you respond "At the aftermath and nothing more"
And what lies beyond the aftermath if not nevermore itself, once more the raven cried
And you respond "Beyond nevermore itself, where anyone can take flight."
Thus, you chose the infinite possiblities
You chose those welcome arms
Even when the raven kept crying out
Even when nevermore it shouts
'The dying dove never crashed and flew'
'It was the raven yourself that was too scared to fly'
'Be not afraid'
'The dove might have never showed you how and nevermore'
'But I will'

Chapter Text

Robin had no idea how to get back to Dreamflux Reef. The only known way had been through Dormancy, with a slash as they went from the beautiful Dreamscape to the Dreamflux. And the same way back.

After Gallagher went missing, that Memory Zone Meme was no longer seen around no matter how much Robin looked for it and the Dreamscape had once again escaped from Dormancy.

It was terribly inconvenient, because how else was she supposed to enter into Dreamflux Reef? How else was she suppose to connect the dots? The more time she wasted, the more time Sunday would be out of her reach.

Maybe he already was but maybe there was someone or something with a hint out there in the Dreamscape. If she could get certain solace just knowing her brother's fate, whether he was alive and well. Whether he had been captured by unknown organizations that he might have unfortunately made enemies of in his time of leadership as the Oak family and as the criminal at front and center of the Order conspiracy.

She did believe in her intuition that he was alive somewhere. She rather had some sort of physical confirmation to ease her worries, and then...?

Personally, Robin wanted to find her brother and reunite no matter what anyone thought or say, even when she was a beloved idol and Sunday was on his way to becoming a hated wanted criminal.

Yet, she knew her life as an idol and the responsibilities that she had over Penacony complicate that personal wish. Even so, while she can still find a hint of Sunday's fate in Penacony, she can at least juggle her need to find her brother and the will she wanted to carry on for her brother.

But now, she was stuck with the roadblock on how to get to Dreamflux Reef. She had asked about Dormancy and Death but the Dreamchasers and locals alike are as clueless about it as ever. She wished she asked Gallagher how to travel between both places without Dormancy much earlier on because now he's missing with people equally clueless about his whereabouts or even identity, she was stuck at square one.

Wracking her brain for any possible solution, she remembered one odd thing, specifically attributed to the Nameless and something she had seen in the Reverie and Dreamscape itself. Apparently, the Nameless were able to access waypoints, those space anchors, that help faster travels with the power of the Trailblaze.

The Trailblazer theoretically could teleport from the Dreamscape to the Dreamflux Reef just by accessing one of those waypoints, that no other without striding towards the path of the Trailblaze could.

She took out her phone, hoping that the Trailblazer had yet to go to the next planet where Trailblazing leads to just to confirm her theory and thus be sent to Dreamflux Reef. Taking out her phone, she only smiled sadly when her finger hovered over her brother's icon. The aftermath of Sunday's actions and their fall had been marked with things she wished to not remember and things she would rather have done. When she was ushered by the nurses, with startingly light injuries despite the fall, and had not seen Sunday whatsoever, she had quickly gone to her phone immediately after the nurses kept silence on her brother's whereabouts.

He might have been unconscious, but Robin knew sending a message wouldn't hurt. And all this time later, it had remained unread. It was easier to hypothesize that Sunday was now without his phone, effectively losing contact and worrying her even more. Whether it helped or not, Robin had looked up past text messages of her brother and even social media.

When she was not looking for Sunday or trying to adjust back to Penacony, as an idol and a part of the Family with a newfound role of her own choosing and determination, she had also rummaged through her belongings for letters bearing her correspondence to Sunday. Even with the digital era that made sending messages easier in real time through their phones no matter how far they were, the siblings had sent letters to each other, giving out a solid correspondence with a personal touch in their writing that mere digital data with typed in words could not have done or as a simple correspondence when they had so much to say and what better way to make an essay of everything happening in one's life than on a letter.

Seeing her brother's handwriting and getting sentimental was not the only thing she had done with the letters, when she was restricted by the Hounds who wanted to guard her or when she wondered whether she could have found any answers for what Sunday had done, which she wanted to understand because good intentions and all, she wondered whether he ever thought there was another way, a better way than what Sunday had done with the Order conspiracy she was doubtful that they would ever thought up as children and something she was fairly sure they would never abide for when they had been idealistic and hopeful. Not so much of that as they have grown up.

Unfortunately, there was not much she could glean with the few letters that she had so far found, which had simply detailed his daily life, concern for her and hopes that her idol life was going smoothly. Always reminding her to take breaks when the idol life was too much and any advice when Robin hit a particularly rough patch in her idol life with how much she wanted to spread the Harmony through her voice anywhere and anytime even when it became too hard to deal.

She vividly remembered at the forefront of her mind that when her singing lessons did not go well, when she took up Sunday's suggestion to become a star to be a Chordmaster but started to doubt herself, Sunday was the one to prop her up with a hand reaching out to her to bring her back up, or a stage that had enamoured Robin even before Sunday had suggested stardom even when she had to perform for only her brother...

She shook her head off those thoughts with yet again newfound determination, when reminscence could be done after she tried to infiltrate Dreamflux Reef. These days, the Hounds were ironically becoming more lax with their tight leash on Robin despite Sunday's escape. Maybe when it was beyond a shadow of the doubt that Sunday escaped off the planet and Robin had been clueless about the latest conspiracy that Sunday tried so hard to hide from her until the very last, the Hounds found it useless to keep the superstar idol restrained when she could keep flying up the sky in freedom for her fans out there.

Robin had already sent a quick message to the Trailblazer, strolling through the Golden Hour once more as herself without any disguise to savour the freedom when the aftermath seemed to be settling down. Normally, Robin strolling around would have caused a few people to approach the well-known star, just to talk to someone famous or get an autograph but people, locals and Dreamchasers alike stayed back and even whispered among each other.

Robin sighed inwardly, knowing that other than idol, she would also carry the title of a criminal's sister which by the looks of it was garnering more sympathy, pity and disbelief considering the recent events. Especially for the locals who have met Sunday, since while he might have made enemies in his tenure as Oak Family Head, he had been an amiable and revered person respectede enough to point of likeability. Even now, there were many that had been surprised by Sunday's conspiracy against Penacony.

At least she was given such a privacy, allowed to wander around her thoughts and to be on her lonesome for what she was about to do next. Her phone beepeed as the Trailblazer had answered on their phone about Robin's inquiry whether she could use the waypoints to travel for Dreamflux Reef.

Trailblazer: Does that mean you are finally going to come home to me after all this time????

Robin: ????

Trailblazer: Ah, sorry >< Got excited for a sec, but accessing the waypoints r ez. You just gotta join my team and then you can auto use anything the Nameless can use.

Robin: What? Is it that simple? How do I join your team?

Trailblazer: Imma gonna send out the warp tickets. Finally, I CANNOT lose this 50-50 if Robin herself wants to come home! Dw, once I done this and you really want to join me, then you can warp to Dreamflux Reef without the waypoints. Well, this only happens once but afterwards, you are free to warp around with waypoints~

Robin: Well, I can't say I don't know what you are talking about but I know I can place my trust in you.

Robin sent a heart sticker to show her sincerity because while the Trailblazer can be eccentric and dramatic, they were a selfless and fun person to be around who understood people's plight and was willing to help whenever they were on the scene. She was thankful that the Trailblazer was so eager to help. Her phone pinged once again and she saw the following message.

Trailblazer: I'm already gonna pull... and the ticket flying, the rising music, the golden light... please think about being with me, Robin... and maybe I won't get another...

Robin still had many questions about what the Traiblazer was going on about but decided to think about being with them, to come to Dreamflux Reef, greateful for what they were doing for and that outside of finding Sunday and her own idol life, she would not mind journeying together with the Trailblazer in their team...

Robin was surprised what happened next, when she could swear that she was in the Golden Hour before she was now in the Trailblazer's arms at Dreamflux Reef. It was extremely lucky that Robin was freed from the Hound's scrunity and somewhere in the Golden Hour without people while texting the Trailblazer because sudden warping like that might cause an uproar with her own reputation certainly escalating such a problem. It was extremely lucky that Robin was on holiday with the Charmony Festival's fate unknown in cancellation or continuation and Robin postponed her idol activities effectively having a vacation until something could be done. 

Still, it did disorientate her and she looked up at the Trailblazer, hoping for some explanation but could not find her voice when she saw them in tears, and even muttering, "My jades were worth it... I did not get another Bailu, thank Akivili. In 20 pulls..."

Robin had to remind herself how eccentric the Trailblazer normally was, with trashcans appearing around Penacony thanks to their imagination and has the tendency to be out-of-pocket. Since people know they were an overall good person, no one minded what could be called a funny or flawed personality trait. In any case, she had decided to go along with the flow and patted the Trailblazer on the back, who kept muttering 'To my White Night team... almost complete... But if only three, maybe... Misha but with Robin, maybe Sunday...'

"Brother?" Robin asked when she heard his name out of the TB's mouth and they snapped out of their mutters to look at Robin and realizing what happened. They had the grace to let go of Robin and looked sheepish at what transpired before casually striking up a conversation:

"Hey, Robin. So how has it been going? Why did you want to go to Dreamflux Reef? You never told me."

The subject change did not fool Robin, who said, "I wanted to go to Dreamflux Reef to find my brother, which you just mentioned. Is there anything you know?"

The Trailblazer looked further sheepish and shook their head as they sincerely said, "I only know as much as you do, Robin."

"Then why did you mention him? What was that about?" Robin asked, as she and her Trailblazer had decided to walk while conversing. She had looked around, remembering the clue and wondering whether there was anything left in this place that could tell her Sunday's fate. After all, her brother had only been there once when they reunited and were told about the conspiracy lying underneath Penacony concerning a Stellaron. She racked her brains for anything unusual while paying attention to the Trailblazer that had yet to answer.

"I just..." Trailblazer finally said, trying to put it in words, "I just hoped that you and Sunday can reunite one day, that's all."

Robin frowned slightly because while she appreciated the sentiment, there's no way that was the full answer. Before she dropped it just to focus on retracing Sunday's steps or wrack her brain for what the accomplice was aiming for, something clicked within her about Traiblazer's mutterings.

"That's not all, is it? If I remember right, you said something about sending warp tickets to me and then me appearing here all of a sudden. I'm probably not the only one you have done this to... Is it possible that you could do this with my brother?"

It would probably be surprising for Sunday to appear before them, especially when its apparent that he escaped from Penacony out of the clutches of the Family and the IPC. Not wanting to cause any panic, a plan started settling in her mind involving summoning Sunday away from Penacony and Robin warping to where her brother is through waypoint and...

"I'm sorry," Trailblazer said, breaking Robin off from her fantasy, "Those warping tickets linked with the Express inviting them to me... I don't know how it operates well, but... it's just now the tickets allowed me to get you. But for Sunday..."

Robin frowned but did not say anything, because she understood it was a long shot. The Nameless' powers were really mysterious but she couldn't help find herself hoping that Akivili's powers connected to the Express will invite Sunday soon so she could meet him through the Trailblazer's goodwill. She just wanted to see him again and talk a lot more, is that so much to ask?

"Why come to Dreamflux Reef to find your brother? Is there anything I can help you with?" Traiblazer asked, when Robin had been unusually quiet.

"Oh, my brother had already escaped from Penacony, probably with an accomplice but they left a clue about Dreamflux Reef. I don't know why but if it meant finding something about my brother..." Robin trailed off, before remembering one particular time her brother acted suspicious.

It was lucky that during their walk, she had subconsciously arrived at the place.

"When my brother and I went with Mr. Yang to confront the Dreamaster, my brother had excused himself for a bit on his lonesome round here to do something. At that time, it didn't really make sense because what business would he have here otherwise? Maybe he did something he did not want me to see. Maybe there's something left here for me to know, and maybe help."

The Trailblazer had looked around the place, before something apparently caught their eye to take. Robin saw it was a piece of paper in their hand, titled 'Death of a Crow'. An ominous title, with words that read as a poem. It was something unusual to be left on the ground, and Robin found herself reaching out for it before reading something shocking.

To anyone else, the words would not make sense. To her, it was a poem that hit startingly close to home. When she saw the dove, shattered dreams and the Great One, she could already infer that it was about her brother.

Could this be what Sunday read when he wanted some privacy? Could this be what that mysterious accomplice wanted her to find? When reading it further, it sounded like an invitation, but to who? And to who that seemed to know so much about her brother's past and possibly future if this was written before the Order conspiracy commenced.

"Brother, just what did you get yourself in?" Robin asked, the paper crumpling in her hands as the Trailblazer approached Robin, trying their best to comfort her.

"Oops, did I come here at the wrong time? Feels like my luck has been on the fritz these days."

Startled, Robin spun around to meet Aventurine, the IPC ambassador that waved in greeting.

"What are you doing here? How did you get here?" Robin asked, because this place hardly seemed to be somewhere an ambassador would be strolling about. Not only that, as part of the IPC, she had to keep her guard up if he wanted to take advantage of her  concerning her brother's whereabouts.

"Please don't be so wary of me, even when you feel you have every right to be. I'm here on invitation from our mutual friend here, just like how they brought you here as a team," Aventurine answered.

"So that means you really can invite all sorts of people to the Express, just like me and him, huh?" Robin asked Trailblazer, who nodded that made her wonder if that was a sign her brother could be invited sooner and save her the hassle of this wild goose chase. Well, she knew reality was not that easy.

"But I'm glad to find you both here. The Family has decided to continue on with the Charmony Festival and it's a stroke of good fortune that I can now make an offer that you cannot refuse, in more ways than one," Aventurine said.

"More ways than one..." Robin repeated, slightly wary but willing to listen.

"Let's just say that our interests simply happened to align here where we could collaborate together until they no longer align and until then or even further, feel free to use me how you wish. You can even stab me in the back if you wish but I don't make deals that don't pay off. So I'm sure you will find it lucrative."

"Go on," Robin said, and Aventurine smiled as if that was all the confirmation he needed.

"Then, let me tell you more about how we can lure your brother to us..."

Chapter Text

"Do you play?" Silver Wolf asked Sunday.

"Excuse me?" Sunday asked back to Silver Wolf, tilting his head in confusion at the sudden question.

Considering this is Stellaron Hunter Silver Wolf they were talking about, she was most likely asking about video games and whether he played any. A prelude to actually inviting for a game, which she was particularly famous for. Her current achievement had been the Aetherium Wars although she had lost to the Trailblazer back then.

If that was the case, Sunday would have answered the negative and might decline to game because he had been a reader for most of his life, more absorbed to its own brand of knowledge and entertainment than anything video games can provide. He never had any need for anything else when life became busier as first the Bronze Melodia and later on as the Oak Family head more buried into 'reality' and paper than fictional escape on those days.

But what Silver Wolf said next surprised him:

"Do you play the violin?"

"Excuse me?" Sunday asked once more, sounding like a broken toy when he repeated the exact statement which was wearing down Silver Wolf's patience.

"You have been staring at Kafka's violin for a while now. Really interested in it, in fact. If you want to take a spin on it, I promise I won't tell Kafka. In fact, why not take it with you?" Silver Wolf continued.

Sunday's thoughts caught up to him, as he stared at the violin that he had been staring for a while now. Apparently, their unknown location had been Pier Point, where he was now passed to yet another waiting Stellaron Hunter namely Silver Wolf. Sunday wondered whether him as a new recruit being shuffled around through Stellaron Hunters was to just maintain some secrecy or he might laugh at this weird pattern that sprouted up since Firefly took him away.

"You are just leaving me with this new recruit?" Silver Wolf had said when Kafka brought Sunday to their base, a normal apartment surprisingly well hidden from the authorities otherwise if Silver Wolf playing her game carefreely was any indication  as she only looked up at their entrance before going back to the game. It was when Kafka walked back out of the door that Silver Wolf asked that question.

"Well, you do know that the script desires me to be elsewhere and it would be good practice for you to learn how to initiate new recruits yourself when you have nothing else to do," Kafka said, never glancing back to an equally indifferent Silver Wolf who never looked up to the game. A confused Sunday was left in the middle, looking between the both to catch up with what was going on.

"What do you mean I have nothing to do? You know that I have this limited time event and so much BP to crush the-" Silver Wolf started protesting that was only punctuated with Kafka closing the door and thus leaving Sunday and Silver Wolf together.

Sunday watched Silver Wolf, unsure of how he was supposed to act with this new life that was basically shoved to him by destiny even when he had been given a choice whether to join the Stellaron Hunters or survive of his own. Although it sounded less like a choice when it was more prudent to live than simply survive.

Still, now that all the events had caught up with him, he cannot deny that all of this just left him unteethered even when he had braced himself for either outcome to the Order conspiracy he thought best to fulfill his sister's dreams and everyone else's. Maybe he never thought much about the aftermath or that his whole life being upended to a newer, more criminal angle would be enough to disorientate anyone.

He remembered what he read on the script, flipping it through a fair few times before their arrival to wonder what sort of instructions Destiny's Slave had in store for him to recruit him beyond being a useful pawn against Penacony's entangled agendas with the planet itself and the Stellaron festering within.

At the very least, it seemed like what was written had not required him to come back to Penacony any time soon which would have been a ridiculous thing to do and render his own escape futile. However, it also meant that Sunday truly stage exit left for Penacony's own epilogue where the rest of the actors had to deal with the aftermath that the Order left behind, as the planet's rights were contested with and the Stellaron business was largely unresolved when Sunday doubted they knew who really used the Stellaron for the beautiful dreamscape in Penacony.

'... and a brother and sister were doomed for eternal separation.'

'... a temptous storm brewed on the horizon. The chant of "Everything for the Amber Lord" grew louder.'

Although he wished his sister the best in the trials and tribulations that might come, he lacked the desire to care about what happened to Penacony when not only was it no longer his business, he simply had no right as that was the defeated simply bearing the responsibility of defeat. Additionally, his presence would bring more chaos, the last thing Penacony needs.

Wondering how Destiny's Slave truly meant to fulfill his dreams afresh per his invitation, he could only ponder of what he had read so far, for the latest plot that Sunday simply had to fulfill to keep the cogs moving. The script was strangely Astral Express-centric, especially focused on the Trailblazer who stood steadfast with the Watchmaker's Legacy and somehow inherited it while Xipe glanced at them. Sunday was also observant enough to know that there was more that meets the eye with the gray haired person, especially with the Family's research on the Stellaron. For some reason, the script decided to entangle him with the Nameless once more.

'With every beginning from a chapter stemmed from the continuation of end. A sister, unaware how futile to unify those of opposite paths, seeks eagerly for her brother and would find herself in the Astral Express' care, with plans anew.'

However, the first part of his script did not involve with anyone at the Astral Express, which was why he stared at Silver Wolf, ready for what they called the next act bcause as much as he did have a script in hand, it had been no more than snippets, specifying certain parts of a story but no more.

'Meanwhile, the brother unshackled learns how to fly with clipped wings, finding out that dreams once supressed can be reignited and will fuel his determination to keep every dream alive, even ones he had yet to know.'

"Hey, you can stop staring at me now, you know?" Silver Wolf sighed as she stopped her game, "Let me just get ready and start off your initiation. Want to make sure you actually can complete an act before going for the big ones. Hope your ready for the tutorial."

Finally, this lead to the present time with Sunday having a stare off with a violin that obviously could not care less after Silver Wolf started making her own preparations and Sunday idled with his own thoughts, wondering how far he could go with something so... spotaneous.

And the test of spontanity starts here, when Silver Wolf suggested to take the violin with them for their mission.

"Take it with me? How can I take something belonging to Miss Kafka without her permission, Miss Silver Wolf?" Sunday asked, shocked at such a bold statement that was given a dismissive snort by Silver Wolf.

"She can't blame us if it was for a mission," Silver Wolf said, with a twinkle in her eyes, "I've actually been wondering what possible mission I could do for your initiation and hopefully you are good at playing the violin as much as you are boring holes into it, then the target I'm thinking about could be a great test for you."

"But how does a violin relate to this mission? You want me to play the violin for this mission?" Sunday asked.

"What? Are you saying you can't?" Silver Wolf asked.

"I... might be a little rusty," Sunday admitted. The reason why he had been staring at the violin for so long had been because there was a time that he promised his sister that they will stand on stage, singing together. However, he had been hesitant about that promise because he had researched what it meant to stand on the stage and become a star that had so many obstacles that practicing singing might not be enough. As much as he wanted to keep his promise to Robin, he had rather support Robin's dream to come true than both trying and potentially failing. If she had some help from him, who chose to research and encourage her stardom instead of practicing on singing, Robin would have a better chance and she indeed flourished.

Even then, it didn't mean he was without musical talent and since a part of him that felt guilty for possibly forsaking their promise to fully support Robin's dream, he wanted to find out a way to fulfill her promise while giving Robin support behind the scenes. Even if he desired to become an idol, Sunday was denied that luxury as an adopted son of the Dreamaster who expected great things from the siblings. Since the Dreamaster was part of the Oak family and needed someone to take over, Sunday had decided to protege for the role, letting Robin have the freedom for her dreams instead.

His sister had always been the stronger one out of the siblings, even back when their mother was alive. She held back her tears while he shook with tears the day they lost their mother, wrecked with compassion and sensitivity. She was always there when he could have been stronger. She always done so much when he could too. She wanted their dreams to come true, and he wanted the same. It was the least he could do.

At least, for once, that he could stand on stage with Robin without full-timing as an idol and which was behind the scenes enough to be a one-time thing and no more, Sunday was drawn to musical instruments. He had tried many instruments, but favored the violin for its more classical and elegant tone that he could bring anywhere to practice with. When Robin was thinking up songs as kids, Sunday would play violin accompaniment and they would laugh at how they were making songs together for them to one day sing together.

Soon enough, growing up, Sunday had soared up ranks in the Oak family with piling responsibilities one by one while Robin had trained enough to become an idol that later decided on a galaxy tour when her fame was on the rise and they then separated with different responsiblities to one day achieve the same paradise. However, that meant he never had the chance to ever stand on stage and play the violin while Robin sang.

So, how was it that a few hours later in the present, after all this time from childhood, he had to pick up Kafka's violin to a luxurious hotel for a grand heist's start? Sunday can still recall what Silver Wolf had done that made him unable to turn down this initiation even if he tried:

"Well, let me see your script to see whether I got the initiation details right," Silver Wolf said, taking the script that Sunday casually handed over at her behest and was startled when she snorted, "Hah. Elio is really throwing you in a wringer with this as your first script. What drove him to make a script for you this poetic? Your aesthetic? Maybe you will get a straightforward answer on your next script but most likely, he's just wanting you to question his script and find out your own answers. So, what will you do about that?"

Since Sunday had already accepted his fate with good grace, he had resolved to continue such fate until he found the future he seeks so he just did what he was supposed to do.

"Hey, what's a pretty lady like you doing out here? I don't think anyone ordered a pick me up here?" A security guard called out to Sunday when he had been trying to enter into a luxurious bar where the target was said to reside. Sunday frowned, showing impatience as part of the act and not because he was bothered by calling a pretty lady. 

He was a wanted criminal, so it was obvious that he had to disguise himself. A memory of how brother and sister could always disguise as each other to cover the other, when Robin wanted to eat ice cream without getting scolded or when Sunday wanted to relax from strict teachers that even Robin agreed to cover for him if he could take a rest had came at the forefront of the mind, inspiring him to dress as a lovely woman that was far away from the wanted criminal Sunday anyone might be aware of.

"I am a musician," Sunday said, showing the violin for emphasis, "I have a gig at the bar that I can't be late for. I have been practicing very hard to make it big and it would be a shame that I get turned away from the door empty-handed like this. I even have this piece ready for the audience."

He in fact did not have a piece ready, when Silver Wolf just tossed the details to Sunday casually and told him to just wing it, not even giving him enough time to prepare since she said that this was how her initiation started, on testing the operative's spontanity and ability to finish a mission no matter what happens. 

He didn't like it but he understood the logic. Reality proves itself unpredictable and even when one prepared without any risks, the wool could still be pulled over their eyes which is especially detrimental for a criminal so Sunday had to adjust planning on the fly, something different from the orderly structure that he grown up with. Yet another test of spontanity, testing with his waters.

'Never too late to try something new,' Sunday psyched himself up to overcome such tests, before playing.

It started slowly for Sunday, as he placed the violin at his neck and started to pull the bow on the strings, starting with a sharp tune for an audience beyond the room. It had been too long when he heard the familiar note rang out, slowly coalescing into a melody he had been too familar with. It was a calming and elegant tune, soothing the edges of even the worst critics in a harmonious tone. One that can always put his sister to sleep even at the worst night and give anyone the fondest memory that maybe even the Harmony THEMSELVES could approve.

'A flightless  raven  had forgotten to sing started playing a tune, reaching a crescendo that beguiled the audience. And thus, they learn that they are free to chirp.'

The door to the target opened faster, allowing him to continue the impromptu performance when he entered the bar, filled with drunks, lovers and businesspeople. Sunday's sight set on a faraway booth with two men, who like every other was startled by the violin's music. They were the targets that Silver Wolf mentioned with underground dealings about certain data she couldn't wait to get her hands on. She was about to steal it herself but decided to leave Sunday as an errand boy with the excuse that it was a perfect way to initiate him into the Stellaron Hunters and test out his skills.

Sunday chose to smile and not mind, as testing out his skills could prove valuable and knowing what he was still capable of. After all, he had turned back on Harmony for Order although they were not all too different and allowing him to use such powers but when he was about to walk a path beyond before it was severed with his actions out in the light, he was not sure how he was perceived by any of THEM. He was not sure what power he now possessed that could help his survival and the companions that took him in. 

And Sunday now smiled once more, surprised by how much he was enjoying such an impromptu and crude performance. He was just playing along the ear, with the bow now waved more erratically even when the music had not wavered once. Music, something quite intertwined with Harmony and the voice it resonates the most with, played by Sunday well with his powers somewhat intact.

With all eyes on him, he approached people who somehow only had eyes for him despite the multitude of entertainment in the bar with drinks, billboards and a TV that was showing off sports.

It was easy enough for no one to notice strange dolls walking around along with his violin's tune, specifically a plush bunny, teddy bear and a stuffed halo spirit from childhood yore.

'A flightless raven thought that only nevermore awaited and nothing was their only possession when everything was taken. And yet everything still awaited in the sky, by looking up and outward. And thus, they learn that they are free to take it back.'

When they were kids, there was always a singer and her fans. A boy, bunny, bear and spirit. When she sang, they clapped for her. When she was discouraged, they gave her a soft fluffy hug. When she desired accompaniment, a band awaited her. One day, the singer asked the boy:

"Brother, how do you always make Mr. Bun Bun, Mr. Bear and Ms. Halo move and cheer like that?"

The boy smiled and simply answered:

"Who said that I was the one to do anything? Maybe they came to life enchanted by your voice?"

Now, the puppets simply lived through his music easily summoned from childhood memories like old friends, conducted through a bow like a baton. Not unlike the time that he had summoned Dominicus, but this was something he always had since childhood when learning about the Harmony and then the Order. The Dreamaster had told him once, that he was a great conducter. It still proved true right now.

Walking around, making sure that all eyes were on him, the dolls separated for the next phase of the heist since he knew that people would eventually see them. So the lights out did not surprise Sunday like the rest, but gave him the excuse to abruptly stopped his piece and shatter the lull. Having made sure he was near the targets during the timed blackout, Sunday had 'accidentally' smashed the violin on one of the targets' heads, with apologies outwardly and inwardly to his targets and to Kafka with promise of compensation if the violin ever broke.

In the ensuing panic, one of the dolls had started rummaging both men's pockets and would find the device with the data Silver Wolf desired. He tapped the comm Silver Wolf provided to signal that he retrieved the data, a much simpler feat than he ever thought. He doubted that the Stellaron Hunters were really going easy on him, just testing what he could do with his skill sets yet unknown to them instead of making him their errand boy because he was a new recruit, right... right?

"Wow, you really trying to finish a mission in world record speed but you can't beat my score. Even so, come with the data and consider your initiation completed," Silver Wolf instructed once receiving the signal while Sunday nodded even if he was a little dazed when he should have known she could not see it about the fact that he actually did it.

Commit a crime.

Which shouldn't be surprising since his Order conspiracy would count as a crime. But it was done in righteousness, without any thought that it was a crime in the first place. So, to actually commit a crime which was knowingly a crime in his mind...

There was no turning back the moment he was handed the script, or when he received the invitation from Destiny's Slave or maybe throughout the years when he learneed that the world was not as beautiful as he thought it would be in his childhood. And ever since his defeat, his severed path, he started to ponder:

'Could I have found another way?'

He was not sure yet.

Sunday was about to reply to Silver Wolf when something caught his eye, on the TV still left on that showed current live news once the blackout lifted and Sunday had to bow out with his finished performance with apologies received from his targets of accidentally hitting one of them unconscious when it was easy to panic in a sudden blackout. What caught his attention was when it announced, "And now, live at Charmony Festival. Despite the conspiracy and the setbacks ongoing with Penacony, the Family is continuing with the Charmony Festival ready to entertain their guests with Harmony's grace. And now..."

Sunday stared at the screen, when it flashed to the Penacony Theater's stage that was fixed up well enough after the destruction in the aftermath of the conflict that Sunday had with the Nameless. He was unsurprised by Robin's appearance on stage, now unhindered by any scheme that would cause Harmony's dissonance that made her ripe and ready to showcase the Festival like how it was done as usual.

Unfortunately, there were other people that stood on stage which surprised Sunday and sent a strong message through his intuition that rubbed him the wrong way.

"And now, to start off with a stunning collaboration with idol sensation Robin... Ladies and gentleman, the next person to grace the stage is Mr. Aventurine with his famous debut, White Night!" The news further announced, confusing Sunday immensely.

"Why... is that gambler there?" Sunday asked, aghast.

Aventurine stood next to Robin, all smiles at a close distance that was flaring up brother protective instincts that he felt he now had no right to have when he decided on this new life without Robin where she would be better off for and Sunday knew it was petty imagination that he felt Aventurine's smile and narrowed eyes to the camera were for Sunday but...

Destiny's Slave works in mysterious way, when he remembered a part of the script that had been vague until this triggered an epiphany within him.

'A raven cannot compete with birds of flight, only watching the dove afar safe from the sky. However, there were flightless birds ready to take away the dove. The raven could not stand it, undeserving they were, and if they were flightless, at least they can protect the dove by standing against the flightless on equal grounds. And thus, they learn that they were free to protect.'

And Sunday would gladly follow up on this epiphany, just so that it can get rid of this bad feeling festering in him. Whether it was a gambler's trap or not, because even though he was aware enough that the world did not revolve around him, he was still wanted by the IPC and if this wasn't obvious bait to Sunday...

Nevertheless, he would be ready for it.

Chapter Text

Amidst the cheers in the newly renovated Penacony Grand Theater, Robin was amazed to find herself on stage when she had at first refused to sing and summon the Harmony when Penacony was full of dissonance from the traitor and the Stellaron. It was now with both gone that the Harmony was restored and the Family thrived to show the world of how they fared better despite the conspiracy against them and the setbacks of wanted criminals going amok.

Showing firm resolution that the Harmony has been restored better than ever, willing to play friendly even to allow the IPC that they once butted heads with an opportunity to stand on the grand stage to prove that the Harmony once again welcomes all and move as an even more united force.

Even Robin could see the fair few holes in these type of statements or maybe she had become a little more pessimistic after everything that happened. After all, there are still people with their own agenda that's not purely for the Harmony necessitating in the culling of impurities once the sweet dream collapse without the Stellaron's influence even when that is taking its sweet time. But it will get there, she knew.

She glanced at Aventurine, who had been doing a dance number with the Trailblazer on Aventurine's own debut work called White Night while she provided song for them to dance to although her own song was an added bonus when Aventurine was belting out real good vocals.

Honestly, if he wasn't part of the Stonehearts of the IPC, she wondered whether he could be an idol of his own making. The performance brought her back to that day at Dreamflux Reef, when Aventurine made an offer that Robin... was willing to try.

"What do you mean us three perform at the Charmony Festival? Will the Family even allow this?" Robin had asked, startled by Aventurine's suggestion. She couldn't even connect the dots how something like this would even help her find her brother.

"Oh, I am sure if it's by Miss Robin's request and our mutual friend's heroic reputation here that this will be given the green light. And I am sure that the world could use our suave dance moves, won't you agree?"

The Trailblazer nodded eagerly, seemingly excited by the prospect and looked at Robin with shining eyes. When thinking about it, she had nothing against the Trailblazer and Aventurine to really turn down the request except for checking whether they had what it takes to perform at the Charmony Festival so that the Family's name would not be sullied. However...

"Mr. Aventurine, while I can't think of any reason to turn down your request now, what I want to know is why do you want to perform at the Charmony Festival? And how does it relate to finding my brother?"

"Why won't I want to perform at the Charmony Festival broadcasted live out there for everyone to see? It's a stunning way to make a debut and commemerate Penacony after everything that happened, a friendly song and dance between us wouldn't you say? As for finding your brother... since it would be broadcasted everywhere, why not take a chance to send a message?"

A message... The Charmony Festival has become a galaxy wide event thanks to the Watchmaker's invitations and with the galaxy on their toes for this historical moment, even people outside of Penacony, wherever her brother was, would be able to watch the Charmony Festival. Thanks to the media, and with Robin's fame, even if Sunday didn't watch the live broadcast, it could be recorded and spread out for him to eventually heard and find it.

If he would bother to find it... but it was a shot in the dark that Robin didn't mind clinging to. She wondered whether her brother, in his imprisonment and escape, also wondered how Robin was doing. Showing him, in some way that she was fine, gave her happiness that she hadn't felt since the Order's aftermath.

"... How about you? Do you also want to send my brother a message?" Robin finally asked, because an IPC ambassador coming here with such an offer that didn't seem to benefit him in some way was nothing less than suspicious. Considering the Family and IPC's feud concerning Penacony, Robin had every right to let her guard up, something that Aventurine did not take offense with when he raised his hands in mock surrender.

"Of course. Let's just say that your brother and I have unfinished business with each other. A score to settle," Aventurine answered sincerely but Robin wasn't about to take that at face value.

"You mean that my brother and the IPC have unfinished business. Considering how Penacony is now and my brother's... status, do you really think I would want to hand over my brother to the IPC?"

She understood that her brother was now a wanted criminal, guilty for all his kind intentions. She understood that justice had to be served for a crime committed but Robin found herself unwilling despite having moral obligation to.

'Didn't he deserve to fly? Can't he spread his wings and realized he could fly all along?' Robin thought now.

'He must have been so lonely.' Robin remembered saying to the Trailblazer once she saw the card in Sunday's journal, when she was looking for clues about her brother's whereabouts.

"I never expect you to," Aventurine answered readily and breaking Robin out of her thoughts, "After all, a family's bond is stronger than any other. However, it seems that you are grasping at straws on finding your brother and while I do find myself with opportunities of my own, wouldn't collaboration be the best for both of us when we have similar goals?"

"And what if they stop becoming similar?" Robin asked, and Aventurine smiled.

"Then, feel free to cut me off when you finish using me and we can go our separate ways. But that doesn't mean I won't have backup plans of my own and while I use those opportunities to the fullest, you should too."

"Until then, you would have nothing to lose. And when you think you do, you can make your own preparations to cut the risk. Of course, I will give you time to think about it so feel free to text me when you want to accept my offer."

Robin decided to exchange phone numbers with Aventurine but once he left, she turned towards Trailblazer, asking, "What do you think?"

Trailblazer shrugged helplessly, "Honestly, he is a something of a true gambler, and he doesn't make deals that don't pay off. With his insane luck, you might have a chance to actually find your brother but you have to be careful about what you might gain and lose along the way."

Honestly, did Robin have to go through such risk? Personally, she didn't think Aventurine was a bad person when he was trying to uncover Penacony's truth. It was thanks to his secret letters that helped her uncover the truth even though she didn't expect it to happen so... violently.

And then with Aventurine's proposal, was she really willing to collaborate with him, who at the end of the day will back up the IPC's agenda? Could she afford to be strung along? Was it really worth it for a one-in-a-million chance for Sunday to even watch her on stage, react in anyway and give a response she so desired?

What would she gain? What would she lose?

Back then, Robin would not respond immediately and mulled over her thoughts, knowing she needed to give it more thought considering she had as much to gain as she had to lose. But by the end of the day, she had taken up her phone and typed in her answer.

She decided that in the ideal dream she wished, it mattered most when it was about them and not just her.

The opening was about to end, ready for Robin to truly, harmoniously, become the Chordmaster and summon the Harmonious Choir just like what the Charmony Festival was intended for.

'Are you watching somewhere, big brother? I really wished you could be here with me too,' Robin thought longingly, flashing back to childhood when Robin told Sunday about the Harmonic Strings with the wish to summon them so everyone can sing together and how to become a Chordmaster to do so. To become a star and now Robin had the privelege...

'Weren't we supposed to do this together, brother?'

Even now or especially now, she could not stop thinking of her brother. Was she having regrets? Did she wish that they could have stayed together a little longer? Did she wish that she had at least seen or known the signs about what happened to her brother? Could she have done anything...?

What was the use of protecting people's dreams, inspiring and encouraging others as an idol when she somehow couldn't do it for her own brother? That might haunt her even more than the nightmares she had about the Stellaron Disaster.

When White Night ended with a round of applause, Aventurine and Trailblazer stood aside to let Robin take the stage, with her voice ready to take flight and-

BOOM!

"What? What is happening?" Robin cried, a redundant question when explosions occured around the stage causing panic overall. No one knew where the explosions were coming from, obscuring Robin's view of anyone else thanks to the now rising smoke. She looked around, needing to find her footing and a way to escape from this perilous situation.

"Watch out!" she suddenly heard someone cried out, as she felt some pull her back in time for an explosion to just happen in front of her that looked more like fireworks than a work of destruction. She turned around, smiling at Aventurine who saved her and said her thanks.

"There's no need for thanks when we still got a big scene at my hands. I can't believe that someone decided to set off fireworks at a time like this," Aventurine said, although he didn't sound disbelieving himself.

"Do you know something about this?" Robin asked, trying to get off the stage with Aventurine while looking around for Trailblazer and hoping they were alright. Even now, she could see that many people were panicking with the Hounds barely able to calm anyone down enough to escape safely.

"And what makes you think that I know anything, Miss Robin?" Aventurine asked, but it was not that easy to fool Robin.

"Does this look like fireworks to you too? This is the Fool's doing, isn't it?" Robin finally asked. Aventurine didn't answer but looked at her with a raised brow to go on.

"She approached me and my brother before the Order conspiracy, handing out buttons as she said she was waiting for the fireworks and promising for something thrilling for the Charmony Festival with a bang," Robin said, "You mentioned fireworks, so you must have met her and had an inkling..."

"Those accusations hurt me, Miss Robin," Aventurine applied a wounded look to his face, "How is anyone supposed to figure out what a Fool is up to at the end of the day, with such whims and whimsy?"

"You are not wrong there. The best we can do now is to stop the explosions, if only we knew where they came from..." Robin conceded with intent on questioning further, disheartened to see what was supposed to be a fun and grand festival be disrupted once more. What was more worrying was that Penacony's Dreamscape was not as safe as usual with the Order's influence gone, ironic as  that may be. People are more likely to get injured and even die...

"Or the best thing that we could do now is to not die," Aventurine pointed out, "Let's focus on that first, shall we?"

Robin nodded but she looked at the panicked people deescalating into chaos.

She looked at the panicked people deescalating into chaos. Bombs, bullets and cries.

Devastating, discording,  strife.

But that's what expected of a war zone, wasn't it?

She had been discouraged, dissuaded and threatened. She did not waver.

"What makes the people there so different from others not to receive a star to encourage, inspire and give them hope? Everyone has the right for their freedom and dreams. Everyone should be given a chance to fly."

She had been warned, nagged and pleaded with. She never budged. The only time that she wavered had been when she asked what her brother had thought.

"He has his own responsibilities, and I have mine. I'm sure he would want this too, for everyone's dreams to come true. No matter what, our ideals will never be swayed."

So in the chaos, there was only one response she could offer. No matter how futile it may have been.

"Huh? Miss Robin?" Aventurine asked, as the hand he once held had been snatched away by Robin herself, who summoned her mic and took a deep breath.

"Why do you sing?" Her brother asked, when he heard her voice in awe with a boundless curiosity that made her giggle.

"Because I can spread my dreams this way! I always feel comforted when you hummed me that lullaby brother and I wonder whether I can do the same for everyone else," she had answered, and her brother smiled, praising her voice with wholehearted belief that it was something she could do.

"Why do you sing?" The Iris Family Head asked, taken in as a protege and receiving special lessons until there was nothing left to learn even when she felt there was so much more that she could do.

"Because its song that can inspire people. My voice can lift up spirits and I can spread the Harmony, for dreams to come true," she had answered, and the Family Head smiled but warned her about the huge gap between ideal and reality, that such determination would be tested  time and time again but she remained undaunted.

"Why do you sing?" A producer asked, enraged when she had turned down the opportunity to get into a label and in anger, tried to persuade her through any means possible.

"I do not sing for profit. I will not sing what I do not believe. My song comes from emotions, inspiration and dreams. That has not and will never change, so that's why I cannot concede to your direction," she had answered firmly, and the producer started throwing profanities, ridiculing her naivete and how people like her never lasted long in this industry and she turned a deaf ear but if that was what was behind the majority of the industry, how was she going to reach her answer?

"Why... do you sing?" A wounded soldier asked, when she had backed out from the industry for a journey of her own through the suffering and needy that deserves a chance to fly whether children from orphanages or war torn refugees of planets, to be now asked the same question which she had continuously pondered until now.

"Because if I can give someone a bit of hope, if I can help someone reach for a better tomorrow, if I have someone dare to dream and spread their wings, it will all be worth it," she had answered, as she had helped taken care of the wounded soldier while singing a soft long ago lullaby that brought a smile and truly making it all worth it, with an unchanged wish and ideal throughout. And an unchanged answer.

The notes always came easily from her mic, as Harmony resounded through her voice and gave shape to white birds, reminiscent to Charmony doves that flew among the people with wings trying to blow away the fire for a better escape route.

"Miss Robin!" Aventurine shouted in shock, but without even breaking the song, she had gave him only a steely gaze of determination, one shown in war torn planets from the dissuaders and haters, that she could not stand by doing nothing. 

Because how else could you reach your dreams and ideals otherwise?

The fire gave way to her voice. The people, audience and Hounds alike, had looked up to her in surprise of such an impromptu performance but moved enough for their panic to go away. The birds kept searching, without her own voice faltering as she used THEIR blessings the best she could with the birds helping the Hounds to direct everyone out of the theater to safety.

Looking around, the Trailblazer was still nowhere in sight and with the fire ever growing to surround Robin and Aventurine, they had no choice to capitalize on their only escape route and save themselves instead. That was evident when Aventurine grabbed Robin's free hand and ran her away from the stage right into the audience where collectively, they all reach for an exit.

Unfortunately, the explosions were worse than she expected as it seemed someone decided to rig explosions all over Penacony Theater itself, making it similar to wartorn zones that she had gone.

"It's a good thing that we got everyone to calm down," Robin whispered to Aventurine, being at the back of the group once she long stopped singing when everyone was functional enough outside of their panic to make it through the exit. Her birds still flied around even without song, powered more by her wishes and desire for everyone's safety. Attendants and others at the other rooms of the theatre were quickly found and rescued through the Hounds' cumulative efforts.

"Yes, thanks to you and the power of Harmony," Aventurine whispered back, looking alert and watching for his surroundings for any danger. Even in the Theatre, there were Memory Zone Memes and wayward Dreamjolt Troupe members that could cause harm to the fleeing guests and Aventurine had been helping the Hounds in his own way, spreading shields when the enemies had been close to attacking but mostly making sure that the progression was not hindered in any way.

"... Do you think that the message was worth it?" Robin asked, slightly disdained should her conjectures be right that Aventurine knew but did nothing. Or if this was the message he wanted to show her brother. His sister in danger on live, if that was better bait than anything. Of course, people are always innoncent until guilty so she did not show anything worse but disdain and yet it seemed that Aventurine could pick up her silent accusations with a wry smile gracing his face. If he had been bothered, he didn't show it.

She still didn't think that the IPC ambassador was someone inheritently bad, but everyone had their agendas in Penacony and there are people who would do anything for their agendas to come true. Considering he was doing his best to protect the people, he wasn't being malicious but...

'This man might be as chaotic as a Fool,' Robin thought, newfound wariness worming itself into her but she could not start confronting him now and confirm her thoughts. Not when they were running away from the explosion and ensuring everyone else's safety. 

"We will see," Aventurine finally answered, shaking Robin away from her thoughts as they finally made it to the Theater's exit. She looked around the crowd to find a mutual gray haired friend that had unfortunately separated in that big explosion but did not see hide nor hair and only looked back at the Theater that was now bellowing smoke, wondering-

"Miss Robin, we need you to come with us," someone said, gripping her shoulder tightly as she saw a female Hound looked at her in all seriousness and disappointment.

"What... why?" Robin asked, startled by this newfound development and then she noticed there were a few with hard looks against her, the same disappointment etched in their faces. She even heard new discord within whispered malice such as 'like brother, like sister', 'how could she?', 'what can we believe anymore?'

"Don't play coy with us. It is with good information that many Dreamchasers and even few from the Family had received a 'commerative gift' from you to use during the Charmony Festival leading to such a result. There had been too many testimonies for the culprit of this explosion to be anyone but you, Miss Robin," the Hound explained, and Robin could not believe what she's hearing. What commemerative gift? There was no way that she had the time and even ability to do such a thing when she had been stuck in Dreamflux Reef?

But no one would have known that, right? Since the Family believed she 'died' and tried to cover it up. And even then, it was only the higher ups who probably even knew, with everyone else unaware. An imposter on the streets giving out 'commerative gifts' like how someone had given her one after finding someone that looked just like her...

Before she could defend herself, the Hound had started dragging her with dissonance ringing ever louder. Yet Robin tried to make herself heard as she said, "But what if it was an imposter? Wasn't there a Fool that had been impersonating others in Penacony?" 

The grip relaxed but did not budge from Robin's shoulder, as the Hound said, "Even so, we have to take you in for questioning. We cannot discount everyone's testimonies before. If you could provide witnesses that showed you somewhere else than anyone who received that 'commemerative gift' from you, then you will be cleared."

The sad thing was that Robin cannot, because there was no easy way to go from here to Dreamflux Reef where she had been when the Fool had impersonated her and while the Trailblaze had allowed her to teleport through Space Anchors, she was not sure that she could use such power to other people and thus prove herself.

When Robin failed to provide any  explanation, the Hounds' expression hardened and the dissonance rang louder than ever, with unsettling rumors she could not get rid of.

'What can I do now?' Robin thought, wracking her mind but finding no immediate solution. For a more peaceful resolution, she could submit herself to questioning and hope that the truth outs itself. And yet, the truth in Penacony had always been hard to bring out to surface...

She had looked at the disappointed and hardened Hound, around the crowd that was growing malicious by the second and finally to Aventurine, who wasn't even looking at her but up above for Robin's eyes to follow and surprisingly find a drone with its camera whirring above. That shouldn't be surprising since the Charmony Festival had been broadcasted live, meaning that everyone would know that Robin could be potentially arrested for this act of terrorism.

What was surprising now was that Aventurine looked straight at the camera and mouthed, 'What will you do?'

And then Robin remembered that Sunday might be watching, what he would think and that this wasn't the message she really wanted to send but...

Planets, even galaxies away, a man had watched the broadcast through a phone instead of a TV at the bar for his own privacy in an apartment, not missing a single second. The man had gripped tightly at the phone, and saw what went down and worried, when he had never had the right to. Not anymore. He had seen the gambler's provocation, he knew his script and he was conflicted. But then, the man knew. 

No matter what happened, she was still his little sister and he hesitated nevermore. Closing his eyes, thinking about her, he started humming.

Suddenly, Robin startled as she felt like she heard something long ago, that cannot be heard by any other as a memory triggered to remind her exactly what was happening:

When the guiless girl grew to a budding idol and a trustful boy turned into a reverant man, the sister and brother found themselves in a turning point of separation, where the sister wanted to spread her wings for the next part of her dreams while the brother needed to stay back for the responsiblities needed for the next part of his dreams. They talked, promised, laughed, cried and finally...

"Brother, what did you do?"

"Sister, do you remember this lullaby?"

"How could I forget? I was just wondering why I felt like..."

"Felt like that you could hear the song in just your head? Well, Sister, did you know... the two of us are special."

"Special? In what way, brother?"

"Close your eyes. And trying humming the lullaby for me."

"Hm hm hm, ah...! Did I just sing inside your head? But it feels a little draining for me."

"Well, this is both our first time using this, and I heard it doesn't get easier but that's why we can only use this in a real case of emergency."

"Brother, I'm not understanding..."

"Ah, I should have explained better. This is a connection from the Harmony just exclusive to us, as brother and sister. Mr. Gopher Wood told me about it when I expressed my worries about you leaving.  No matter how far away we are, no matter what happens to us, we can always reach out for each other, just like that with both our powers helping each other when we need them. So, whenever you are in trouble or just need some reassurance, sing this lullaby and I will come to your rescue."

"And how will you do that, brother?"

"When the time comes, we will know. But I also hope it doesn't either."

"Why is that?"

"Because such things, like everything else, comes at a price."

Robin now closed her eyes, that memory long forgotten until now when she embarked on her journey to idolhood without any situation prior that needed her to call her brother's help. Or that deep down, she couldn't really bring herself to and add even more responsbilities when she was more than capable of independence. And on her brother's side, he never called for her either to the point it felt like both forgotten such promise. Until today...

"Brother?" Robin whispered while humming the same lullaby wondering whether she would get another response. Whether she could know if her own brother is fine or not even within her cacaphony through her mind and-

-the man remembered the reason why he exclusively said such power should be used in state of emergency because it doesn't get easier, especially when they were far away. Especially when they had long taken different paths, with their connection tenous at best. When one of the twins of Order found solace with Harmony and the other currently a blasphemer who stayed rooted and astray from both Order and Harmony. And yet he received mercy from THEM, when he could still use his powers. Maybe when THEY do not care for worldly matters or THEY still saw his determination as a pathstrider and yet it matters not. He had closed his eyes, searing the image of her in distress and-

Robin's head felt like it was splitting but she bowed down and suddenly felt something flowing to her, even when she heard Aventurine suddenly talking next to her, "Hey, are you OK? Do you- woah!"

Similar shouts of surprise made Robin raise her head to see smoke coming out of her as a... plush bunny suddenly appeared right in front of Robin to kick the Hound's hand away from her and push Robin away conviniently right into Aventurine's arms. The bunny consequently kicked away both of Aventurine's hands before settling into Robin's arms, while she hugged the bunny in a state of shock.

"Mr. Bun Bun...?" Robin asked, and she could briefly remember this plush rabbit clapping for her along with her brother or dancing merrily and she had always knew that her brother had always had better affinity with toys than herself, so she knew...

The rabbit plush suddenly tapped on Robin's arms, quickly looking around before throwing its head back. She knew what it was asking of her as she backed away from everyone else, and the rabbit pointed downwards, towards her skirt pocket and in understanding, she had fished out her phone.

But then, before she even knew what to do with her phone, she felt a splitting headache and with a gasp, the rabbit disappeared. And with a gasp from others, Robin looked back to find that the Penacony Theater had disappeared, spitting out a certain Trailblazer right at Robin's feet.

"What happened?" Robin could only ask, with them being dazed and reaching out for Robin. She took their hand, just in time for someone to shout, "Hey you! What did you do to the Grand Theater?!"

"Uh..." Trailblazer said, getting their bearings and suddenly gripped Robin's hand a whole lot tighter, "Absolutely nothing! That's all you are getting out of me!"

Those were what people would call famous last words, as Trailblazer ran as far away from the crowd as possible with Robin being dragged along and currently tagged along with Aventurine who cried, "Wait for me, my friends!"

At this point,  with such bombastic events happening left and right, Robin had no idea what was happening. But one thing she understood was that this was a bad idea. She resolved to get an explanation from Trailblazer, Aventurine and... her brother, of course. She gripped the phone in her free hand tighter.

Meanwhile, said brother had put his face in his hands already aware of the phone's headlines about a 'Runaway Idol: On The Run From Her Crimes???' with a splitting headache and misery for the absolute chaos that happened, which he does not subscribe to while cursing out whoever's agenda it was that caused this whole debacle in the first place. Somewhere, a Fool, gambler and girl in a mecha suit sneezed at the same time.

Chapter Text

"This was Elio's doing. Why did Elio...?" Sunday muttered to himself, long after the broadcast ended. Even with his headache, he kept fiddling around his phone, only sending one message before silencing it. Even when he heard a familar tune humming in his head-

-because this could not be the only thing that he bothered to send her, right? About the Fool's schemes and potential movements, as through her brother is to enemies against Harmony (or has it been Order all along? Or both?), the theater's disappearance could only amount to someone stealing a Stellaron, for nefarious purposes including drawing out the person responsible of masterminding the Stellaron to create this beautiful Dreamscape (it wasn't the Dreamaster, the Order, but then who? Why had he never said so before?) ending it with potential ways to stay safe as well wishing it so.

For it was as practical as it was impersonal. Necessary for her impending situation but callous against her concern when she did not even know her brother's fate, and still did not know. Of what he's truly doing out there, whether he was in actual good company, safe and sound or even truly alright. Being alive was the tip of the iceberg that she wanted to know. Did he not think she wanted to know whether he was safe too? And she messaged to receive no signal, so despite her headache, she hummed, trying to reach out but-

-his headache worsened, and he shut it out with another message about the consequences of their special connection, cold as it is. That was the only thing he would do, and afterwards, he was going to keep his involvement with Robin to the minimum. If anyone unsavoury were to find he kept in contact with Robin, he did not want to tarnish her reputation anymore than it already had to the point of being unsalvageable.

In the planet that started it all, she wished that he would continue responding but the communication was a start of something. Still, she wanted to talk more. After all this. Her big brother still cared for her, and he may have forgotten that she cared about him too. Still, she would try again when the aftereffects of their sudden communication cooled down. And she would like to remind him, no matter how far away they were, no matter what different paths they walked, that they were still family. And family just do not abandon each other for any circumstances.

'I should have never contacted Robin, or used my powers like this,' Sunday now thought bitterly, even with all the worry welled up in him, 'I was even warned about this.'

Other than the raven allegories that depicted a more personal journey Sunday would later witness fully to the future, the script also contained several advice and warnings alike because other than getting injured in the fall and imprisoned for his cosmic crimes, it was not like he left unscathed from the whole thing.

'Wonder this, what does it feel to ascend as an Aeon? What is it to take Paths once known and create anew? Whether in success or failure, does one hold onto either mortal or godhood? Can one have both and neither? Power has always come at great responsibility and if one were to have such a sudden brush, what turning point would one face?'

Sunday had read those questions, remembered how he expressedly told the Astral Express how he sought no desire to resurrect an Aeon nor become one himself and yet his karma, by the power and potential grace of two Aeons, had brought about an Embryo of Philopshy and an ideal for a utopia he so desired. Because he had nothing left to lose.

But it dawned on him that he had almost become a god... and Elio's questions, with his concerns, were valid. During the very first infiltration mission, he had slowly used his powers, worried what he had gained and lost with the relief that it went so smoothly.

But what he did to contact Robin? Too soon, and too painful. Just what had he been thinking? 

"What's wrong with him?" a swordsman asked, and considering the Stellaron Hunters, it might be Blade. When he entered in the apartment was something he wasn't even sure. He had been too busy nursing a headache and absolute worry for what his sister is going through. Seriously, why did this have to happen to her?

"Who knows?" Silver Wolf shrugged, "He had been like this ever since the Charmony Festival broadcast."

"Heh, did he just see something that was too much for him to handle?" Kafka, who also entered the apartments who knows when, said with a tinge of amusement, "Listen, tell us what's going on Birdie."

Sunday felt a tug to follow as Kafka said, to spill everything as it was the honest truth when what he really wanted was to get his bearings after the disorientating headache while shifting through the things that could be said and unsaid. He got the feeling that Kafka was doing something to him, a terrifying power she possessed that could control people like puppets.

'Oh Triple Faced Soul...'

Unfortunately, it was something he was all too familiar with as he firmly rejected the enticing whisper to keep his own will. Even if it felt like a struggle giving him an even worse headache. It wasn't easy but experience made what might be impossible for some to be completely doable for him.

"As a leader, one of the strong, you can help the weak but that's insufficient. A leader's role has to govern, as the strong govern the weak. The strong govern over others to ensure that no wrongdoings happened and everyone can live in harmony. Yet, there are some disastified with such, will pull no ends of tricks for you to succumb as they can take over the position from you and apply their own rule so far away from the harmony. So you have to become strong, if you don't want that happening."

"But how do I become strong? I try my best but I don't know whether I'm strong enough to fulfill such a role."

"For someone who wants to accomplish many dreams and has done your best until many can recognize the potential in you, you should be more self-assured about your strength. Still, there will always people stronger than you but I can help you overcome those hurdles and learn what it's like to be a leader. And in that way, you will find yourself having more options in making dreams come true. Don't you want that?"

The boy never hesitated, if it meant accomplishing all the dreams he set out. If it meant everyone's well-being in the embrace of harmony. Even when he was unsure about his own strength deep down, with the weaknesses he had. And the boy learned, growing up.

"Oh Triple Faced Soul..."

The boy, growing into a man, had always said that as the starting mark soon after the training had begun. To judge, jury and execute. On others by his own hand, or himself by others. And it was by THEIR grace, or maybe his own efforts that he started finding the strength to overcome all the trickery, coercion and powers against him. Especially those who sought to make him a puppet for their sickening desires but his own desire against that has and always would prevail.

Back then, he had hoped that the weak can grow strong like this too. With more experiences in the future, he had wondered whether the weak could ever grow strong and still relied on the strong like how he relies on the Aeons that care little about worldly matters except for their own Paths in his own trials and tribulations.

Nevertheless, he still prayed. Because even when people call him strong to the point that he lied himself enough the same thing...

Had he ever changed from the weak crybaby that he was? Because what other god could he turn to, for solace?

"... Why did you do that?" Sunday now asked, before actually raising up his head of his own volition to look straight at Kafka with a surprised but amused expression.

"Just trying to know our new recruit better, is all and I felt like I learnt something new about you just now. I might start understanding why Elio wanted to recruit you," Kafka smoothly answered.

"Do you do this to every new recruit?" Sunday narrowed his eyes towards Kafka, before looking at both Blade and Silver Wolf. Blade looked entirely indifferent for the matter while Silver Wolf had a crossed expression on her face.

"Unfortunately, she does and it's annoying. She always wonders whether there's anyone who can even resist her Spirit Whisper in the first place," Silver Wolf grumbled.

"And you seem to be among the few people who are even able to resist," Kafka smirked with amusement, "What a strong mind you have there, Birdie. Is it because of the Harmony, the Order? Or both?"

The Odes of Harmony had been learned alongside his sister, preparing them for the Family as they were praised for their innate blessings as the best interpreters of the Great One.

Then there were the Odes of Order, taught in secret. Altogether different but similar to the Odes of Harmony so that the history could be learnt and the truth revealed. That he was never a child of Harmony but a twin of Order. And the philosophies that first made him feel wary until he saw THEIR way.

A boy learnt both, and realised he had both blessings and he wondered why. If he was following one Path, how was he not excluded from the other? If he was a twin of Order, then why has the Harmony not been taken from him? Why is it possible to stride both?

An answer would later be reached, that the Harmony and Order were no different and it was when they converged together in the boy. Or that they had been converged long ago and evolved ever since Harmony absorbed Order. Both complementary and yet distinct that he found new meaning.

But did that just make him enlightened, or blasphemous? Could he walk both Paths, when both had appealed...

When the strong had to help the weak, as he saw the fruits of it in being adopted to the strong Family as weak kids losing their mother.

When the strong governed the weak, as he saw that discipline and laws were enforced to ensure unity, casting out the discord by the irreverant.

... and thus he could not abandon either, yet what then if this ends up with him having none?

"Birdie?" Sunday asked instead, not indulging to Kafka's curiosity in favour of his own since this was the second time she used such a nickname on him. If that avoided him answering her questions, then what does that matter?

"That's what you care about?" Kafka asked, "It's just a nickname that rolled off the tongue. Don't worry about it. You need to learn how to change the subject better."

"Then, how is this for a subject change?" Sunday asked.

He knew what happened in Penacony cannot be answered fully by the individuals before him but if there was one thing he was sure of their involvement, their title alone suffice as evidence for him to make this particular accusation.

"The Stellaron Hunters, Mr. Sam, in particular, is responsible for Penacony Theatre's disappearance," Sunday stated without preemptive.

"And?"

At least she was not denying it.

"Was what happened in the Charmony Festival a part of Elio's script? Is what's happening to Robin written down somewhere in any of your scripts that I should have known about?" Sunday demanded.

"Oh, so that's why you were saying something about Elio's doing," Silver Wolf said, already back on her console to play her game while Blade, bored of the conversation, had retreated into yet another room in the apartment. Neither had even bothered to answer Sunday's accusations, and he looked to Kafka as the only one willing to hold a conversation with him to gain something.

"What if it was written in our scripts? Could there have been anything that you could have done if you knew even then?" Kafka asked.

"I would have at least liked to know," Sunday pressed, and Kafka shrugged indifferently.

"Then, you are barking up at the wrong tree there, Birdie," Kafka said, "Sam's the one with the Penacony script and the rest of us do not feature in it, or at least made brief cameos like Silver Wolf there. So we might even be more clueless than you."

Sunday stared at her long and hard, wondering whether she had even spoken truth or simply lied to him but frankly, there would be no reasons for lies. Wistfully, he wondered whether he should put her under trial like he had once done for Aventurine from what seemed like a long time ago but he stayed his hand.

Just as he could resist Kafka's Spirit Whisper, who's to say she couldn't resist his tuning and trials? And with the state he was in now, it would be no good to overexert himself with such power. The only thing left in his disposal were his wits and words but he felt like he was running out of avenues to take control of something long out of his hands.

Sunday sighed, knowing that this was the reality of things and the best he could do was take over what little control he had over the situation because damn right he did not just lose to the Astral Express for the desired path for Penacony to let it go into disarray and chaos. He knew that there would have been loose ends regarding the Planet of Festivities but who could predict it would be that bad?

"Haha, I did not expect you to be so surprised and demanding," Kafka spoke, bringing Sunday out of his thoughts, "Is not knowing everything really bothering you that much? Just because we serve under Destiny's Slave doesn't mean we are omnipotent. Where would be the fun in that?"

"Besides," Kafka continued smoothly before Sunday could even have a say, "The reason you are really kicking a fuss is because there's something you would rather not have done and thought that if you knew your destiny better... if you knew what was going on with Penacony, then you could have prevented it. Even when I doubt that to be the case."

There were many people who tried to read Sunday, strangers and enemies alike to understand him as a person and find out weakness he must not exploit as the Oak Family Leader back then but this was the first he felt unnervingly seen through too accurately for his own taste only second to the Dreamaster. Sunday did his best not to startle, but gave a rueful smile when he felt found out and knowing how right she was.

"I guess you can call it a natural reaction of a know-it-all denied even the 'need to know' basis," Sunday finally admitted.

"That's just how it is, playing by fate's hands but even then, you could just make the most out of it instead of lamenting what you don't have. After all, the show must go on~" Kafka said.

"Speaking of show Kafka, aren't you here for more pressing matters? Even bringing Blade here means the next stage for our recruit here, doesn't it?" Silver Wolf suddenly chimed in, even when her eyes were glued on the screen.

"I guess we can't waste anymore time while the night is still young, huh?" Kafka mused as Sunday was back to observer for a conversation between two women. Surprisingly, he didn't feel as disatisfied about being interrupted and lacking answers than he thought he would be. The headache finally fading away and letting out steam brought him back to his senses about what he did and what he could do.

He had lost his cool there and still felt angry about what was happening in Penacony, what Robin was entangled in but galaxies away and as persona non grata especially in Penacony, there was little he could do for such a situation, choosing instead to believe in Robin and the others to get themselves out of the mess even as he wished he could do something. He reminded himself again, that the moment he escaped and took the script, the show must go on.

"Is this really all there is to my script, Miss Kafka?"

"Yes, is there any problem with it?"

"It's just... does Destiny's Slave always write his scripts in allegories, snippets and vague wording?"

"Did you expect the scripts to be written normally, especially ones that has fate written on it? Elio writes our scripts in a way he knows that only the person themselves and the other Stellaron Hunters could understand or else speak to us personally about them, in a more direct fashion. That way even if anyone else stole or found it, it would end up as nothing but gibberish. For example, do you think anyone else would have understood your invitation?"

"No, so the invitation and this script is exclusively for me. But then again, if it's a script that I should understand, why do I feel there are some parts... lacking?"

"Hmm, there are a few things I can think of. What might feel lacking now might feel whole later down the line. What you don't know now would make sense as time passes. The future is not going anywhere and we all walk towards our destiny eventually."

"Regardless, I think the script is still incomplete in some parts. It says about an initiation, a trigger and another bout with the Astral Express but where does my future come in?"

"You will know it when the future itself comes. Even when destiny is written for you, it is still yours and when the time comes, you will find your answer."

"..."

"Regardless of what you will feel with any setbacks and doubts, you can fight and complain and ask but we all reach a certain end and the show will go on. Remember to keep that in mind the longer you stay with us. I have a feeling this advice to be applicable to you down the line."

Sunday now chuckled at a recent memory, in slight disbelief how accurate Kafka's words are becoming from past to present or more specifically the then-present to then-future. Maybe working under Elio for a long time had that effect, or it was Elio relaying such words to Sunday through Kafka.

The show must go on... and it had every reason to. To destiny's end, and given every reason to follow it instead of reject it in the notion of 'free will'.

"Yes, the new recruit did well in infiltration and had quick thinking to pull it off smoothly," Silver Wolf said to Kafka, once again stopping Sunday from idle thoughts and focusing on the conversation about him.

"And his powers?" Kafka asked, and Sunday had to raise a brow at this particular question.

"Only did what was necessary for a simple infiltration mission so I doubt he showed everything," Silver Wolf said casually, to which Kafka hummed and stared at Sunday thoughtfully.

"Well, at least I can praise you for efficiency," Kafka complimented Sunday.

"Thank you," Sunday responded automatically.

"Quite honest as well. In any case, there really is no time to waste and I am sure Bladie is already prepared on his end. I am sure your script specifies what you need to do next, and after the Charmony Festival, I am sure you found every reason to comply."

"I do..." Sunday said, understanding his script even more as the future ticked by. Penacony might have reached its epilogue but as time moved on, new stories would commence, taking up old threads that have yet to see its end. With the Stellaron Hunter and IPC involvement, with the Family and IPC still fighting over Penacony that he cared about regardless...

"So, what are you going to do?" Kafka asked amused, and Sunday answered in a way that rendered all his years of upright goodness and disdain to chaos for naught. And yet, it was one that would uphold his base ideals and tamper with the chaos he so disdained, at least in a place he simply cared more for.

"Go commit more crime."

'A flightless raven had been griped with fear, with clipped wings and shackled cage but yet broken out lost. They longed for the cage and could not go back to, only looking at the sky to see others in flight and longed. And thus, the raven learns that they had been free to want.'

***

Thanks to Silver Wolf's coordinates, Sunday found himself at one of the IPC's headquarters. He thought he might feel overwhelmed or daunted by the task he set himself up for, but only nothingness awaited the winged man at the behemoth of a building where he decided to up the ante.

Instead of a civilian disguise, Sunday went for a more criminal look without revealing his true identity. A collared black jacket cover up his wings as well as his distinct clothing and a feathered raven mask was used to cover up his face.

His halo accesory had been repurposed as a choker, since it wasn't like he could truly remove it from his body but at least keep it hidden so that he would not appear as a Halovian... at least for now. His long hair had been tied to a loose low ponytail as he was unable to do any other hairstyle that won't mess or loosened up back to his free flowing hair on the long run.

"Did you really have to dress like this?" Another voice sounded out, and Sunday looked at Blade who was his partner for this particular mission. He wore a black suit, and left his hair down but instead of an intricate mask like Sunday's, the swordsman opted for a simple face mask and sunglasses.

"The mask hides my face," Sunday stated.

"But makes you stand out," Blade curtly countered, and Sunday shrugged.

"Regardless, it is inevitable that I will stand out so I am tasked to at least go out in style. Don't worry, such actions wouldn't even be traced back to the Stellaron Hunters," Sunday sighed, because honestly, he wouldn't mind going with a simple face mask and sunglasses to hide his own face but breaking into the IPC's headquarters and tasked to get the required blackmail had been stated to require confrontation at his part and leaving an impression unfortunately seems to be a must.

Apparently, Elio had grand plans in setting the stage for Sunday with a multifaceted character playing roles, plural, with his skill set for the desire to make an impression that will move the cogs of fate. Regardless of what others thought ever since the flashy duel, it was not in Sunday's nature to stand out and yet, with only such an option once again, Sunday could only feel interested in the effect this would have with his dream and goals ahead.

He really was less disatisfied with this overall outcome than he ever thought he could be, which should have been unsurprising considering how little options he had in Penacony's aftermath and even then, he had never expected such a new lease in life.

He was still learning how to make the most of it, but after everything and his own experiences, at least it was good he was interested. Maybe it was the fact that he had little left to lose that helped him become open minded but such self-reflection can always come later.

"At least that's not a part of my script," Blade sighed and tapped on the comm that Silver Wolf prepared, "You know what to do, right?"

Sunday nodded, tapping on his own comm before the duo went their separated ways for this particular heist, to find blackmail and information from the IPC. Aventurine's little challenge was among the reason that such payback made sense, because the IPC had not yet given up on claiming Penacony and Sunday wouldn't want it to be handed over them. Even when he was no longer part of the Family, he rather it remained in their hands, to the Harmony without any discourse. Finding anything to use against the IPC would prove beneficial for him.

How this tied with the Stellaron Hunters was the fact that they are not yet done with Penacony with how Sam had taken the Stellaron. In the midst of chaos, at least for the IPC, it was better for something grander and more flamboyant to take most of their attention. In addition, the Stellaron Hunters were interested to know what the IPC might know, for the very next story that Elio was penning. Sunday was the only one not yet in the know, but thats simply showed how careful Elio was. 

'It will be like a movie starring a bold thief out for the big bad's secrets. Riding from the motorbike to the building, the thief will make a grand statement alerting the people and officers. Chaos would ensue, for another thief, quiet and stealthy, to infiltrate for the goods. The bold kept all eyes on them while the stealthy kept eyes away.'

In other words, Sunday was bait as he conviniently found a motorbike around the entrance and hot wired it according to Silver Wolf's instructions, as one of the people foreseeing this operation. Once the engine started revving, he sincerely hoped that riding a motorbike would not end badly, because he never even got a license for Aeon's sake when he had never any need to learn with auto-vehicles these days.

Unfortunately, since he can hotwire and yet not access the AI required due to time constraints and not as well versed as tech that even Silver Wolf's instructions would make hacking into the AI a feat that no one had the time for, Sunday could only quote these famous last words:

"How hard can it be?"

It was exactly as hard as driving up to a ramp positioned right in front of the building, basically flying at least four to five stories high of a building and then crashing right into the window. Thank Aeons for a hardy mask and a hooded jacket that none of the glass shards made way to skin. Unfortunately he cannot say for the same for workers and security officers that he saw while gravity was slowly overtaking the bike to land on the floor where everyone wisely ran away and gave a wide berth to the falling motorcycle.

'How do I land this thing? Motorcycles don't fly! Why am I thinking about landing it like a spaceship? I don't even know how to do that.'

An idiotic thought passed through Sunday's mind, in idle escape from potential impending doom but instinct and faith in an unescapable destiny that he was pretty sure meant he was going to be alive through all this helped him right the bike to land... right on the table that scattered a bunch of paper around.

"No! My documents!" Sunday heard someone shout, as he looked around and twisted, leaving  black marks on said documents, once he spotted an entrance outwards from what looked like an office room.

"Stop! Stop!" Security officers shouted, amidst the screams, tears and mournful voices about documents. Sunday never knew why people bothered calling criminals to a halt when something like that would only have the opposite effect. He still remembered his time as a Bronze Melodia that there were some wayward criminals seeking shelter against Hounds instead of repentance and had been found by said Hounds for arrest. The cat-and-mouse shouting and running doesn't change no matter where he was. Funny that this time he was one to do the running, but with a motorbike.

Sunday felt no fear, reassured by simply following instructions with a smile at a thrill that he had never felt, oh so forbidding and yet addicting, when he removed one hand from the handlebar to hold up a conductor's baton for the officers running behind him. 

"Ready the piece," Sunday simply stated.

With a wave of his hand, black ravens appeared around Sunday, causing even more chaos into the fold when they spread out.

"Oww, don't go pecking for my eyes!"

"How the hell are they making me fly???"

"No, you can't ruin my documents too!"

Sunday ignored all those screams, letting the manifested ravens do as they please and sighed in relief that the headache he once had did not come back and sped up the motorbike, with both hands safely on the handlebar to crash open the door and once more scattering people in the corridors.

He looked around the floor, with a sign helpfully saying that he's on the fifth floor. Sunday continued riding the motorbike, going to where he knew the emergency staircase was and had faith in his non-existent motorbike skills to pull this off.

Birds continued to create a ruckus, and Sunday hummed as he waved the baton allowing temporary discombolutation for anyone who neared Sunday. He wondered how in Xipe were THEY allowing this but thank Aeons they rarely care about wordly matters because if Aeons like Xipe really did care, THEY would be appaled at the chaos that Sunday enacted and remove his powers just for doing something so antithesis of such a Path, whether it was for the greater good or not. And yet, here he was summoning birds out of song.

'"Liar," you declared, "the Great One is blind to worldly sorrow —"Merely this and nothing more,' Sunday remembered this line from his invitation, and still he wondered how true that was. Or there was something else that was keeping his powers intact.

Sunday still did not advocate for chaos, but to pull this off, one of them had to be bait and Sunday was chosen so because his status and current situation would make the biggest impact such as...

"What maniac would even barge into headquarters like this?!"

"Wait, that choker... doesn't it seem familiar?"

"No way, even with the mask, do you really think he's that recently wanted..."

"He's not even trying to hide his familar clothes underneath that coat."

"There's no mistaking it, that has to be the lunatic former Oak Family Head Sunday!"

"We need to capture him! We could get promoted! They might even forgive us about those damn documents and give us a reward!"

"For no more documents!"

Sunday had heard such, and first how rude to call him a lunatic. Second, IPC workers have it hard too with their fair share of documents. Finally, it really was going according to script.

'The bold thief had already been at crosshairs with the big bad company, you know? Because he's the key to a particular interest they are trying to acquire and any more advantages, the better. So the bold thief would be paid more attention while the stealthy thief can make their way without much fuss. But the bold thief had their own agenda, regardless and made their cry heard loud and proud.'

Being bait was chaotic. Being a criminal was just the worst and Sunday, once an Oak Family Leader, would never find himself at this side of life but here and now, right to the emergency staircase with more people on his tail, a laugh escaped him even when he quickly stifled it, finding more humor in this situation than he would like to admit.

Maybe this was what it meant to let loose. Maybe deep down, while Sunday did leave his childlike side, his childlike side never left him.

"Stop! Or we will shoot you!"

"Come quietly, and we won't make this difficult!"

"We will have you surrounded!"

He could still hear the screams and shouts. He really was making do with the situation before him, no longer stiff, upright and orderly as expected of a Family leader, the protege of the Dreamaster. For the first time that he would allow himself, he looked into his childlike persona for what's supposed to be done in such a situation and it came more easily than expected:

"Come try if you can! You will never take me alive!"

Sunday was starting to understand why flamboyant criminals like to say such a phrase, almost beguilled by the thrilling addiction but never letting it stray his focus for what was to come.

'The bold thief will find himself in a sticky situation. Will he eventually get caught, or get what he wants? Tune in to find out.'

What an open-ending script but it was only the means that Sunday was free to come up with, not the ends that will get there one way or another.

"How in Qilpoth's Hammer is he riding up the stair rails like it's nothing?!"

"Who cares?! Just send over all men near the emergency stairwell for all floors so we can actually catch this lunatic and call it a night!"

"Yes sir!"

Sunday responded to such, following a well thought up plan with minimal risks mind you, that once he miraculously reached the tenth floor by the power of fate and faith residing in this lowly blasphemer by crashing once again into the door against hoarding men awaiting him and jumping ship, or bike for the matter. Of course he did not forget to leave a taped note with credits to ensure that when the bike returns to its poor owner, the damages would be compensated. It was the least he could do for the uninvolved party because said bike was just there.

"Let's play together once more," Sunday whispered, as a familiar feeling welled up on him.

He eventually ran on foot, as guns were once more aimed for him but as they were running, they found themselves tripping over something... soft and fluffy. Sunday had summoned Mr. Bun Bun, Mr. Bear and Ms. Halo to help trip over men on his behalf leaving them in an entangled mess. And this is why children need to keep their toys after playing or else accidents like these can happen~

"I'm glad you are having fun but you still need to give Bladie some more time to steal the files for all of us," Silver Wolf spoke to Sunday through comm, undoubtedly hacking through the security camera to watch Sunday's show unfold and by the crunch he was sure he heard, maybe with a bucket of popcorn unless he was too presumptious to think such.

Tune in to find out...

'And his powers?' Sunday remembered Kafka asking, while he remembered what Elio had warned. Even so, for just distraction and the need to know it all, he weighed the risks but started raising his baton all the same.

For so long, he never risked. Because he didn't want to lose anything.

He didn't have anything to lose now. It was time to figure out his limits.

"Is it already time for the lullaby?"

And Sunday sang, as childhood memories resurfaced in his mind of simpler times, when nothing had been lost and reality didn't seem bad. It was weird how time warped so much. As he sang, coming from either Harmony or Order, both or neither, he wondered whether he was really paying any price.

Slowly, the dolls always his companions even when he left his childhood, started dancing slowly to the lullaby to the numerous chasing people before him who grew sluggish under Sunday's lullaby and made them comfortable as possible... Notes came and faded, as he managed to put people to sleep, until a familiar headache rang his head.

"May you be blessed with sweet dreams."

He stopped, almost abruptly, and he felt the toys now came to him and clutched to him as if asking if he were alright. Sunday frowned at the thought, remarking it as ridiculous because Mr. Bun Bun, Mr. Bear and Ms. Halo were not sentinent beings like that after all.

Other than a headache, a probable warning for his own body, nothing else was amiss. He looked at the IPC members, knowing that they would not dream long when this was where his limits were. He instinctually understood that this was a power to use sparingly, still remembering a time that he put people to sleep with Ena's dream. This was but just a small shadow of it, and yet...

"Are there any empty rooms?" Sunday asked Silver Wolf, and she relayed the coordinates. He took the nearest sleeping guard, while looking onto others. He closed his eyes and for the first time, despite the lingering headache, tried tuning on a random few.

It was nothing difficult, something their mind would resonate with. They would eventually wake up believing that they saw him running at a certain direction to a room he was now dragging the guard. For this particular guard, he looked around the room as Mr. Bear and Ms. Halo found rope to tie him up on a table leg. Meanwhile, he and Mr. Bun Bun rummaged through the uniform before the toy rabbit found a transmitter that he purposely turned on. Other than the toys, ravens as beautiful as they were ominous for Sunday still flew around, with his power enough to maintain a handful. He tied the transmitter to one of them and let it fly around the building.

Then, he concentrated on tuning the guard. A feat he had already done several times that when he wake up, he would remember a more detailed version of events once he was captured. In a dream that the guard would firmly believe reality in a way that is, Sunday implanted a message he wanted to convey for the rest of the IPC, for trying to take Penacony from the Family. The Astral Express might say that Penacony the Watchmaker desired does not belong to Order but he highly doubted it belonged to Preservation either, considering its state as a frontier prison under the organization's management. All that will not be undone.

"Hmm, what else can I do to buy time I wonder?" Sunday murmured to himself.

"Oh, don't worry about that. Blade already gotten the files. All you need to do now was get out of here," Silver Wolf finally informed much to Sunday's relief since he wasn't sure how much he was going to hold out, personally.

"And the fun was about to get started too," Silver Wolf sighed, and again he heard a crunch which was leaving little to doubt that she was actually eating popcorn.

"I think I had enough fun for the day," Sunday said, as he looked around the room to find a paperweight and a window, "Is there anyone outside the room now or anywhere near the corridors to hear what happens next?"

"No one. Don't tell me you-"

Sunday broke the glass and for the sake of his conscience because if it weren't for circumstances that he would not be doing crime, he left some more credits for whatever compensation he could offer at hand.

"Bold move," Silver Wolf whistled, "You know you don't need to leave your credits like that. If they think it's coming from you, they will just confiscate it and find out where it came from. Or are you the type to rub salt to the wounds?"

"I know money does not solve problems but I wanted to return at least something," Sunday finally said.

In the next few hours, the IPC headquarters would go on a rampage, when guards will come to a room to find the tied up captive that Sunday left, confirming to everyone that it was indeed the 'lunatic former Oak Family Head', that he pretended to be unconscious from whatever spell Sunday had to done with the chance to place the transmitter and were now tracking him. On the way, it would be told that Sunday woke the captive up and would relay a message dedicated for Aventurine's ears only.

While the IPC were on a goose chase, Sunday found himself in the alleyway breathing in a sigh of relief at another infiltration done, finding himself getting used to it but reminding himself not to get too confortable. He had to remember that the Stellaron Hunters were notorious criminals, that Sunday had lines he won't cross that this particular organization would not mind crossing. He had to remember that it hadn't been long since he escaped from Penacony, that he had just fallen from his loss on the duel against the Astral Express and that the headaches coming from his powers were something new, that it might even get worse to an extent even Sunday won't know.

And yet, despite such pessimism, his lips couldn't help quirk upwards. 

"Seems like you are having fun. Are you glad that I have chosen you?"

The voice startled Sunday out of the glow from the heist, with a statement so familiar that he looked up and around for a black raven before back to the ground to startle some more to see a black cat instead.

A talking cat felt no weirder than a talking bird, and yet the similarities of both 'masters' taking up some animal form was not lost on him.

"But do you think I still chose you?" Sunday asked, as the cat approached closer with jaunty steps towards the Halovian.

"You went with us. You see the appeal of the infinite possibilities," the cat countered.

"But my patience wears thin, Destiny's Slave. What's stopping me from running here and now and making it on my own?" Sunday asked, testing the cat.

The cat, Destiny's Slave or known for his alias, Elio, laughed, "Are you disatisfied with me keeping you in the dark about what could have happened to your sister and Penacony? You left Penacony with the Stellaron Hunters, with an inkling about what they have done so how can you be so surprised and disatified with the outcome?"

"... I had at least hoped that my sister wouldn't have met with such a scandal. It would be good to know," Sunday sighed, still admitedly bitter on that point even when nothing could have been done about it.

Elio rubbed against Sunday's legs, even when he simply stood still and said, "And what would knowing do? You know as well as I do that destiny cannot be escaped. You have experienced that yourself first hand, so what good would knowing do?"

He had, with Death of Crow invitation and realized how inescapable destiny really might be. From the destined conflict to the outcome that he thought he had avoided and felt like what the Order had desired, what he had reached for himself, was finally worth it... in all fairness.

And then, it had shattered as predicted.

"You were never going to run away from us. Once you have accepted your script, you already accepted your own fate and far be it for you to run away from it, when so far the only time you veered off the script was making contact with your sister with powers that wouldn't do you good if you overexert yourself. Your bluff won't work on me," Elio continued.

'A brother and sister are doomed for eternal separation.'

'What turning point would one face?'

"Yes, of course you won't fall for that simple kind of provocation," Sunday mused as he scratched the cat's ear who purred in pleasure, "So why are you here? Is there anything you wish to say to me?"

There was a lot Sunday wanted to ask himself, starting with why him, why the script and why to many other things but he doubted that the elusive Elio would be able to answer so he could only submit himself to playing Elio's tune, following a destiny that has already been pre-ordained and yet somewhat free with all the possibilities beyond him.

"I have only one thing I wish to say. I've just been observing and I'm glad how you settled with this arrangement. That said, are you prepared for your next script?"

Sunday thus only offered his hand to Elio, more resigned to fate than ever but surprisingly more free than he ever thought he would be. Maybe that's why there were some criminals who never reformed because crime had never been more lively to Sunday.

He still would not advocate to chaos though, simply a means to an end. If it just happened to be refreshing, he had to remind himself that he was a criminal anyway. Yeah, that's what he will keep telling himself. So that he can move forward, and play his part well.

Chapter Text

"We managed to lose them," Robin sighed, as she was trying to wrap her head around what had happened. Many things had already happened to her throughout her life, but being accused of a crime that she did not commit and being on the run was one she never thought she would find herself experiencing.

"Luckily, few even know how to access Dreamflux Reef and even fewer know of its existance." Aventurine piped in, as the weird tag-along during their run.

"It seems despite everything that happened, the Family likes maintaining the 'Planet of Festivities' without its dark side," the Trailblazer remarked.

As said, they were now at Dreamflux Reef, thanks to the Trailblaze's helpful Space Anchor and just as Aventurine and Trailblazer both said, only Dreamflux  Reef locals, after being transported by Sleepie, knew of this place. The Family, let alone Dreamchasers, knew this place very well especially when the higher-ups did well to bury the place and disguise this place with the illusion of 'Death' which had similarly been covered up. Layers upon layers of deceit but it served well to protect.

"I'm sorry for dragging you along with something like this," Robin bowed in apology as the state of events finally rushed and caught up with her, "Now you might be associated with a runaway criminal like myself and deemed accomplices."

"Don't call yourself runaway criminal now. It's all a misunderstanding and I was the one who dragged you in the first place," Traiblazer reassured Robin.

"And whether you stayed or run, the outcome wasn't going to be good for you at all. I chose to tag along, because things seem mighty interesting here," Aventurine said, "Since Sunday got our message and all, I was quite curious whether there was any follow-up~"

Robin stared at Aventurine in slight dismay, remembering her own accusations and receiving neither confirmation nor denial. She might be playing at the palm of his hand now but the culprit for the explosions couldn't be more obvious.

The culprit for Penacony Grand Theater's disappearance less so.

And the culprit for using her to bait Sunday was basically known, and yet she had to say it:

"Does that mean you are satisfied with what you have done?"

Aventurine raised a brow, and chuckled, "I feel like if I carelessly answer that question, I would be confirming or denying something wholly untrue. In any case, let me tell you that the circumstances leading to this could not be helped and if it made a stronger impression of a message for Sunday to react faster, then who can complain?"

Robin frowned, because it was not like she advocated for the strife and chaos in exchange for a message to reconnect with her brother. Somewhere, far away, she was sure her brother felt the same way.

Her brother... as she fingered the phone now safely in her pocket as she was reminded of the message she took a sneak peek in immediate worry when she was running safely away with the Trailblazer by the side and Aventurine behind her.

It came from an unknown number, but the way the message was texted had her brother all over it. That she got it immediately after meeting with Mr. Bun Bun was no coincidence whatsoever. It was a long message but...

Find a Fool.

Unknown: She's anywhere and everywhere, but bait serves well for those that seek chaos. Find allies that have once pique her interest and set your trap.

Stick around with the IPC ambassador, out of spite and potential need.

Unknown: You would do well, staying away from the IPC ambassador, for making you play his game. What he wants is me and you do not have to bring yourself in crossfire for something like this because who knows what that gambler would do to meet his goals? So please... cut ties before you get further into his schemes.

Ask a Trailblazer.

Unknown: The Penacony Grand Theater's disappearance is most likely due to the disappearance of the Stellaron, meaning it has been stolen right under the Family's nose. There can be ways to prove such but...

Find clues to the true mastermind.

Unknown: It is possible that the person responsible for the Stellaron disapperance can help lure out even more traitors to the Family because while Gopher Wood seems to be the mastermind of abusing the Stellaron for the birth of the Planet of Festivities, he was never responsible for actually using and manipulating it.

Reassure her brother that she was alright, and they need to meet once more.

Unknown: Please stay safe, sister. I know you want me to contact once more but we absolutely shouldn't, unless we want to make this situation worse. You have always deserved to fly high up sky, and I no longer can. So please, spread  your wings to the sky without worrying for those who can only look up at the sky.

There hadn't been much answer after that, when Sunday texted her about his headache and didn't respond soon. Since he was the one who initiated contact, maybe it was more taxing for the responder than the receiver. Still...

"So what can we do now?" The Trailblazer asked suddenly, when Robin took too long to answer to organize her thoughts and with the 'we' in that statement, were they really planning  to take the accomplice thing the whole way?

Such is the friendly help of their resident Trailblazer, and Robin was grateful enough for it. In addition, they had limited amount of time in proving her innocence... Her brother can wait a little longer, and who knows? Maybe she will find incredible answers along the way.

Even when she eyed Aventurine, she ultimately decided on her own silence to see how long the ploy will go, no matter how suspicious. She could have pushed harder concerning the suspicions she had and made his innocent or guilt clear but Aventurine always changed the subject. Not only that, they were going nowhere. It made more sense to just wait out his ploy, even when there might be a way to get his answers for herself.

In the end, results speak for themselves, and... she never had the same ruthlessness as her brother to 'judge and punish the irreverant'.

"Brother, there is something about tuning that I do not get."

"What is it, sister?"

"There are so many ways to tune a person, but I don't understand why we can tune someone's judgement."

"There is so much about tuning that we don't understand, and yet the results speak for themselves for what we know about tuning. The ability to clear disorientation from a person, help a person slowly recover memories when everything within mind is open to a person and clear communication between two individuals under the Harmony's light so that no false vows can ever be spoken. Especially the last one, with an ability to speak nothing but the truth and without the discord of lies, we can thus judge a person."

"But what right do we have to judge people? I even heard that tuning someone for judgement would lead to inevitable pain, and the Harmony shouldn't be something like that..."

"Judgement is something considered a trial and tribulation and if the person is truly innocent, then they have nothing to fear. But for the guilty, inevitable pain only awaits them because for their misdeeds, they have to be punnished for them to understand what they have done and be reedeemed."

"But pain and punishment... isn't the Harmony's judgement a little too excessive? Even bringing the Eternal Centurion to it, if the ireedemable's crimes aren't as severe to need such... redemption."

"Well, when we tune our judgement, that's the end result of it. I confess I know not how THEY work but I can speculate that THEY who seek out harmony and to be one would not tolerate what prevents that such as discord and chaos from the irreverant. And what is not tolerated would be meet with the appropriate response."

"I don't know whether I have that mercilessness to tune judgement."

"Then you don't have to, if you don't want to. And personally, I hope that you never have to do that. Maybe your voice, and your tuning is far more suited to guide many for their salvation before they find themselves commiting something irreversible that renders judgement."

"First, there is something I would like to know from you, Trailblazer," Robin finally spoke, "Why did the Penacony Grand Theater disappear?"

The Trailblazer briefly frowned but was forthright with their explanation, about finding an ally that led them through the Theater before stumbling upon a Stellaron and...

"And that ally of yours just stole the Stellaron? For what reason? And who is this ally of yours?" Robin asked, questions buzzing around her head but the Trailblazer was sheepish, hesitating to even answer. It was only Aventurine who called it out as it is.

"Wouldn't it be the Stellaron Hunters?" Aventurine guessed, "When you think about anyone willing to steal something as dangerous as a Stellaron..."

Stellaron Hunters... Robin only looked at Trailblazer, who simply looked down as they refused to even look at them and answer. Silence was basically a confirmation.

Robin wanted to groan. Penacony just can't seem to let go of their entangled agendas. Did things need to get complicated with the Stellaron Hunters in the fray? Then again...

It is possible that the person responsible for the Stellaron disapperance can help lure out even more traitors to the Family...

In the end, that was just Sunday's hypothesis and yet the explosion of the theater with the subsequent disappearance meant that someone, or a plural of someone, was not happy with the conclusion that Penacony went through. It got her framed in the mix, and caused such discord that should have been over after uncovering the Order's plot.

Robin looked at the Trailblazer briefly, wondering whether she should demand more details but then she realized that she still needed her own name to be cleared and they were currently being uncooperative about any further information regarding to Penacony Grand Theatre's disapperance.

Finding out who blew up the theatre and finding them to clear her name simply took more priority for now, and once everything was over, she could surprise Trailblazer again to uncover the plot.

"What we can do now," Robin decides, "is to finally find the Masked Fool Sparkle, because we need to confirm whether she was the culprit who actually caused the explosion. And clear my name. Eventually, we will have to figure out the disappearance."

She looked at Trailblazer who still couldn't look at Robin in the eye. In the end, there were too many people who refuse to tell her much. Maybe she had to figure it out herself, eventually. And she will.

"Easier said than done," Aventurine sighed, continuing on Robin's statement, "That Masked Fool come and go as she pleases, as the thrill seeker she and the other Fools tend to be. Although she would still be in Penacony, sitting back and relishing her spectacle, it would still be hard finding her disguised as anyone anywhere."

"Maybe there's a way to just bring the Fool right before us," Robin was quick to make a suggestion, based on past experiences, "Trailblazer, can't you just summon her like what you have done for me? After you summoned me the first time with your tickets, you always 'ask' me to help you with Nameless commisions and whatnot. If you do the same for the Fool and lure her here..."

Robin's life after being invited for waypoints by the Trailblazer, even when it had been about a few days, consisted of suddenly receiving notifications of summons to 'farm for relics, traces, items etc' that she found herself amiable in responding. Even to an Echo of War concerning the Great Harmonious Choir 'Septimus' aka her own brother, Sunday. Reliving that memory or dream again was... something, but it had been sobering fighting her brother once more, trying to analyze her brother's actions and wondering if she could find clues, or try understanding and was left with more to ponder about.

Another thing she remembered about that day was to blatantly ignore Trailblazer muttering 'Huh, I thought for sure that Robin dealing the last blow to the boss would lead to some sort of achievement...' It was something she was not supposed to hear and did her best to forget. Regardless, with the Trailblazer's connections and weird ways to summon, it might be more than possible to finish this in one fell-

Trailblazer frowned, shaking their head and said, "Unfortunately I cannot, Miss Robin. Unlike you or Aventurine there, I never succesfully summoned her and I can't really ask her for commisions when I don't have her. The Nameless just doesn't work that way."

"I can help you summon that Fool, if it means using your tickets," Aventurine offered but Trailblazer shook their head once more.

"We can't summon her now, even if I wanted to. The Express is picky when to summon certain characters," Trailblazer informed, muttering about 'curse of limited character banners and the need to pull for faves'. Nameless terminology, Robin supposes. But that meant the easy way was out so...

"Then, is there a way to lure her?" Robin asked, "Or are there any experts around here that could help us find that Masked Fool?"

Even as she said it, she doubts that after the summoning idea was turned down, there would be something so convinient-

"Oh, I think I might know just an expert. Let me text her," the Trailblazer suddenly piped up, as they took their phone.

Robin's jaw dropped open for a brief second before she readjusted herself to a more professional manner drilled in her through idol training, and asked, "And who is this 'her' that you are talking about?"

"Well," Trailblazer said having finished texting on her phone for someone to pop up suddenly out of the blue in the middle of the trio.

"They were talking about me," Black Swan, in all her glory, appeared, illicting a more startled response to Robin even when the Trailblazer and even Aventurine managed to school their surprise. Maybe this wasn't the first time for either to encounter a Memokeeper on the spot but as Robin's first time, she can't supress her natural reactions.

But she was quick to recover when this was not the strangest thing that she had seen, and smiled, "Miss Black Swan, it's nice to see you again."

"I wish it was under better circumstances though," Black Swan replied, "In any case, our dear friend has requested my help to aid you all into looking for a Fool. I'm sure with all of us together, we could bring out an act that will lure her into this ongoing masquerade."

"A... masquerade?" Robin asked, tilting her head and Aventurine looked equally confused but Trailblazer seemed to understand what was going on, light bulb flashing atop their head.

"You must mean the time that Sparkle asked you for a dance. Are you going to continue playing your game?"

"With higher stakes this time," Black Swan answered, "But the stage is set, the actors are in play and the epilogue from the long story is coming to a pass. It's time for the job to get done."

As soon as Black Swan said as such, a fox mask that Robin remembered seeing the Fool wear popped out of thin air in the middle, emitting some gas around them and rendering them nearly unconscious but Robin would not forget what she heard next.

"How observant to know I need to get a job done. And I'm glad for all these assistants, but now its-"

And then she would hear a burst of flames, a feel of warmth and no more...

***

Robin would soon wake up to a golden gilded cage. She found herself seated on it, but looking down she noticed the floor was black and easily moved around when she shifted, causing her to look at her surroundings and realized that where she was was not only a cage but partly a gramophone. With her, a Charmony Dove was resting in her hand still sound asleep. She could not see beyond the cage, neither friends nor enemies once she realized the predicament before she found herself here.

From one thing to another... she had no idea what she was here for and thus shouted out, "Hey, is anyone there?! Traiblazer? Mr. Aventurine? Miss Black Swan?"

"I am afraid that they are not here with us, sister."

"Brother?" Robin gasped, when out of the darkness, his silhouette appeared just as she last remembered him, well and uninjured and Robin could not help the surge of relief she felt to finally see him after his defeat, to see him alright. She wanted to rejoice, to call out but reality stopped her, reminding her of this peculiar predicament and the logic that Sunday had just escaped from Penacony.

He could not just come back to the Planet of Festivities so suddenly, to meet with a sister he was not adamant in meeting while genuinely unfazed about the circumstances in which they are meeting now. Sunday, in his text message, had been genuinely worried for her and wished her safe, wanting her to fly high in the sky. Not trapped in such a cage. If it were him now, even with his pessimistic views, he would have hurried and freed her... right?

A sister wished she was more blind to her brother's overprotectiveness because it has left her suffocated with a deprived feeling for freedom. Something she had felt ashamed of, and something her brother had picked up on. Much better than the sister picking up on her brother's troubles, or else maybe she could figure out how to lessen his overprotectiveness when it became too much.

The sister freely voiced out the complaints that the brother wanted to pry out. She expected him to be cross but a wry smile only appeared on his face.

"I know I can be too much sister. Even I know it's a habit that I should shake off now than later."

"So what's stopping you?"

"I guess you can say I just don't want to lose anything more. I know you have grown up, so much sister, but that doesn't stop the fair share of troubles you receive in life. And there are more times than I can count that I wish you didn't have to go through any troubles."

"You can't shield me forever. That's what it means to fly in the sky. We do not live in an ideal world, but we can slowly build our way towards it, and as long as we stand by our ideals, we can push through what stands in our way."

"I know. You have always reminded me of such. That is why I will always support your dreams, but sometimes I just rather..."

"Rather what, brother?"

"... Never mind."

But the sister never told the brother that she had heard his soft prayer after, about a dove, a cage and living. She never found the time to bring that up, eventually citing it to something she misheard and yet...

"What's wrong, Robin?" Sunday asked, tilting his head, "You don't have to worry about anyone, you know? I'm right here to keep you safe from everything."

"Who are you?" Robin demanded, starting to feel uneasy about this situation with growing certainity that this was not her big brother (for logic firmly dictates it) and most certainly someone else masterful at disguises, "Or is that you, Fool?"

Sunday (?) frowned, as if insulted at the very notion but continued talking calmly, "What are you saying, Robin? Don't you remember what happened? There is no one else here but us."

Robin frowned back, her own confusion evident on her face and she demanded, even as she gripped the bars of the cage with eyes darting around for an exit, "I refuse. Whoever you are, I will not believe anything you say. Brother would never do anything like this, cage me despite any danger I have gone through."

"Even at the cost of your life?" Sunday (?) asked, "Sister, I don't know what's gotten into you but-"

"I will not listen to the lies of a Fool. You cannot trick me away from the truth. Admittedly, brother was someone overprotective enough to do something like this, but he never gave in to such tendencies. He always respected my free will and knew it was no use to stop me so he would always support me. Because in the end, he believes in the person I am and I too will believe in the brother I know."

"Brother, thank you for helping me."

"It's no problem, sister. You know you can come to me whenever you are in trouble."

"And even then, I didn't think you would help get such approval and resources so soon."

"Yet another warzone. When will you stop doing this, sister?"

"... We have been over this, brother."

"Yes I know."

"Which is why I'm grateful that you help regardless. Even when you disapprove, you still pull through for me."

"... Because I know I cannot stop you. Because you can fly better than any of us, dear sister. In the end... you just don't belong in a cage. But please, promise me. You will stay safe."

"I will, and thank you, brother."

"May the Harmony always protect you, sister as you stay true to your path."

Now, Sunday (?) sighed as he groaned in an un-Sunday like fashion as he said, "Boring. Just boring! You couldn't even try to play along? You are even more of a party pooper than your own brother and that is saying something! Siblings cut from the same cloth, after all. Really... no fun."

And just like that, a swirl of fishes later for dramatism, Sparkle stood in front of Robin instead of Sunday, confirming what she knew all along. Robin gripped the cage bar tighter, and demanded, "Why are you doing this, Fool? Why did you have to blow up the Penacony Grand Theatre? Why did you have to separate the others and cage me here?"

Sparkle laughed, saying, "So many questions, little songbird but are you really just going to ask and not seek? Do you really think the answers would fall on your lap?"

Robin stayed silent, refusing to answer such a rhetorical question even when she was thinking about what the Fool would gain from this, how she could take advantage of her situation and how she can escape...

"Just staying silent is not going to get anything out from the both of us," Sparkle said, a mischevious smirk as her eyes bore into Robin, expecting her to play along and maybe make a Fool of herself.

Robin braced herself for the chaos undoubtedly caused by following a Fool's whims but she knew that this much needed to be done unless she wanted to stay in this cage forever. Robin can be the better person in this brief stalemate by making the first move.

"Then, do you want me to be the detective?" Robin speculated, "What then would I solve?"

Sparkle clapped her hands, twinking eyes as she said, "A detective, under the whims of the criminal seeking to find the truth. Yes, this would be great game conditions in exchange for your freedom. I will give you three mysteries and Ms. Detective, do your best to sing out the solution~"

A change of tune from the Fool. One really for the whimsy and the thrill seeking. Robin only nodded in understanding of what Sparkle wanted her to do, and see where this goes even if the destination might as well be a dark tunnel.

"Alright, answer truly and freedom will be yours. Answer wrongly and may you never see the sun~" Sparkle said, in a way that Robin cannot take seriously and yet knew if she wanted to move on from this spectacle, she had to comply with a Fool. May Harmony help her throughout this chaos.

"OK, let's see... who blew up the Penacony Grand Theater?" Sparkle asked.

"You, the Masked Fool Sparkle," Robin said.

"Ding ding ding," Sparkle clapped her hands, "Who made the Penacony Grand Theater disappear?"

"The Stellaron Hunters," Robin said, because a wild accusation it maybe without any sustainable proof, it was the only answer she could give that seemed more true than any other she could wildly come up with. Aventurine's suggestion and Trailblazer's reaction had painted a certain picture, indeed...

"Hmm, not bad. Maybe our songbird is not as clueless," Sparkle hummed, "And finally, who made the Penacony Grand Theater appear?"

Robin had to do a double take, because was that a trick question? Robin did not remember the Penacony Grand Theater reappearing. Reanalyzing the vague question, if she asked making the Grand Theater appear, it might be when the first structure to start off the Planet of Festivities of today or else known as the moment the Stellaron was activated and masterminded which cause these certain chain of events...

How much did the Fool know, Robin wondered, but what mattered more was how little did Robin know? The last question was something she had no definitive answer to, because the 'who' in question was someone not even her brother knew, when he denied the Dreamaster's involvement and speculated the Penacony Grand Theatre's disappearance can lure the true culprit out to the open all along.

Robin saw Sparkle tap her foot impatiently and knew that she needed to be quick to answer or else be stuck in the cage to follow more of the Fool's whims and thus reached her final answer:

"Not the Dreamaster."

"Huh?" Sparkle let out, eyes widened by the way Robin answered the final question.

The idol simply stared back determinedly, and elaborated, "It is not the wrong answer, so you cannot keep me caged."

Seconds ticked by, before Sparkle laughed loudly and finally said, "You are not as rigid as your brother, good to know. I like your answer! You might have the makings of a great detective, or a swindler. I hope that could be an 'elating' prospect for you, but I know you won't take it."

"I won't," Robin confirmed, "Are you done having your fun?"

"There is never such a thing as being done when it comes to my fun but in this script, it has to end like all others so I guess you can say so. Thank you for going along the whims of a simple criminal. Miss Memokeeper, it is time to free our bird. So much for above your paygrade, huh?"

Robin was shocked when Black Swan appeared once more out of nowhere and the cage dissolved into bubbles of memoria, sinking her gently into the Memokeeper's arms.

"Sorry to put you through all this, Miss Robin. As for being above my paygrade, I am not exactly helping you. Just... hoping to make things less complicated," Black Swan finally said, and Robin could only make out the latest development.

"Can you tell me why you are working with the Masked Fool, Miss Black Swan? Or do I have to solve it again myself to not be left in the dark?" Robin asked Black Swan and she gave a small smile.

"Don't worry. Unlike Miss Sparkle here, I am more than willing to shed some light to the entangled events that happened thus far. First-"

"Wait a minute, I won't let that slide," Sparkle interrupted Black Swan with a pout on her face, "Who says I am not willing to reveal all my crimes to the detective after playing my little game. Shouldn't we end this with a criminal's confession rather than an outsider's speculation?"

"My my, particular on the details, aren't you?" Black Swan chuckled, "But by all means, take the stage."

"Before you explain everything to me, uh... can you let me down now, Miss Black Swan?" Robin asked, still in Black Swan's arms after being freed from the cage.

"Oh right, there you go, Miss Robin," Black Swan said, and then Robin was back on her feet, facing Sparkle wondering what plausible explanation she could give for her chaotic misdeeds.

"What should I start with first...? How about this? Now that you have answered my questions, I can answer yours. Choose the right questions, and you get your right answers. Choose your wrong questions and you will get nothing. Just like how I asked three, you only get three in return."

Robin wondered whether she should really keep playing a Fool's game but she had looked at the Memokeeper who seemed encouraging of it. Even when the Memokeeper seemed responsbile of aiding the Fool in her predicament, the purpose of finding a Fool and making her admit her crimes has been accomplished. She sensed no malicious intent.

So now, she should take the opportunity to get to the bottom of this once and for all.

"Why did you blow up the Penacony Grand Theatre, to frame me or for something else?"

"Well, it was just a job that I have to do. I would still do it on my own but being hired for such a spectacle had been just right up my alley. Unfortunately, I wasn't given too much specifics on the reasoning for such a crime. Ah, let's just say that I never intended to lay low with my crimes in the first place so it was never meant to frame you. I will eventually come clean to all my crimes and you will fly a free bird~"

"What were you hired to do?" Robin asked, instead of asking who even when that was a question she wanted to know so badly. She remembered Sparkle's consequences with the right and wrong questins and treaded carefully in what she knew could and could not be answered.

"Hmm, just be another actor in Penacony's grand stage. As well as acting behind the scenes for actors who, ahem... were inconviniently 'retire' with my role as any stand in. I just watched everything from the best seat in the house and ensured everything was going on script, down to the last detail. That included the explosion, disappearance and bringing you here since your role never required you to go any further in this story."

Robin felt she wanted more elaboration on that, but she also had one final question and she needed to use it well. In present circumstances...

"Where are Mr. Aventurine and Trailblazer?"

"Well, the gray hair is certainly living up as the protagonist, undoubtedly with an ally to figure out a truth never meant for people too deeply involved in it. How Penacony will continue would be built upon their choices is all I can say. Such is the universe's favour. As for that flamboyant peacock..."

"Right here," Aventurine said, coming out of nowhere in a darkness that Robin's eyes had yet to adjust to, "Thanks for the tip, Miss Memokeeper."

Black Swan nodded and Sparkle turned her attention to Aventurine, as she asked, "So did you like your little trip~"

"It was... certainly illuminating," Aventurine sighed, "In any case, I have already called a tip to the Hounds about Robin's whereabouts. You are free to surrender and make your case by then."

"Thanks a lot, lil' peacock. I can't wait to figure out how long the dogs can keep this bundle of fireworks down~" Sparkle said.

"Did you all... just plan all of this together and left me out of the loop?" Robin asked, as she tried to keep up with the events happening around her.

The trio looked at each other, and it was Aventurine who stepped up for what should be a very good explanation.

"Leaving you out of the loop was not intentional, Miss Robin. Our agendas whatever they were simply meshed well to make this collaboration possible. We don't know everything that the others are doing, and we are actually out of the loop at certain aspects just like you are."

Then Aventurine shrugged, "Despite being out of the loop, we didn't care much in the face of our own agendas as long as they are accomplished. I just let myself be used as they did so for themselves."

"So this was not all planned together?" Robin asked.

"Not really," Sparkle added in, "I just wanted to make sure you were out of the Family and Trailblazer's way and the Memokeeper and IPC ambassador didn't mind helping me on that front. It was just, hmm... fait accompli~"

"And why do I have to get out of the way?" Robin asked, because why couldn't she be involved in Penacony's Sweet Dreams?

"There are secrets that were better left to turn a blind eye, and impartiality needed that a member of the Family cannot give. It was not your story to tread, and it makes things certainly less complicated."

Robin crossed her arms, "But you don't get to decide for me."

"We just did," Sparkle pointed out and Robin wondered whether it was too late or a little insane to start throwing hands. The feeling of being played for a fool was not pleasant, but she would not deny that she had been given some answers back about Penacony's outcome.

For that, maybe all she could do was put faith in the Trailblazer like how the rest seem to be doing. For now...

Robin sighed, signalling that she was no longer going to fight about what had happened to her and she rounded to Aventurine, "Has there been any news about my brother?"

Aventurine raised a brow at Robin quickly shifting gears but answered as he was told.

"Your brother really is making waves around the galaxies. So this is his response towards my message," Aventurine hummed, once he checked over his phone and then showed it to Robin.

A video was sent, and she clicked on it to watch and her eyes widened in shock at the very first second of the video when she couldn't help blurt out:

"Sunday did what???"

It was accompanied by a newsanchor who had declared they simply got this footage from anoymous sources from an IPC cover up about what a recently well-known criminal had done, with reasons unknown for now.

Basically, the video was unedited footage starring Sunday, crashing into the building from the window, on motorbike and riding it through multiple floors as he directed ravens around the fleeing workers  and even putting them to sleep before dragging one into a room that was stragely cut off abruptly from that point on.

Robin's astonishment remained largely unchanged by the time she finished the video, with equal parts of worry and relief entangling her.

Her lawful big brother was doing crime.

Her cautious big brother was riding a motorcycle recklessly in a building.

Her orderly big brother was being a chaotic menace.

Robin pinched herself to make sure she wasn't dreaming, even when she was already in a dream being at Dreamflux Reef but a part of her knew that what she saw was not going to mysteriously disappear as a joke.

Yet, she couldn't help smiling because as contradictory as it now felt, childhood memories old and dusty were now flipped through like an age worn storybook about a before to a childhood, when they still lived as a family with their mother even when the living conditions were not the best

Before Sunday became a lawful big brother, he once had the penchant of stealing a bite of their then-limited sweets from his little sister where she would pout, he would apologize but grin apologetically with his sweet tooth overriding any good sense.

Before Sunday became a cautious big brother once jumped through cliffs of memoria just to go to the other side, during their scavengers in the Stellaron disaster to find any way of survival.

Before Sunday became an orderly big brother would always resort anything for the hapiness of his family, even if it meant being a chaotic menace and pulling the wool over any other adults for a single moment of peace.

Thinking like that, of vague memories that could be exaggerated from childhood and true nonetheless, wouldn't this mean her big brother was simply going back to his roots? But for what reason, and for what purpose?

In a daze, it was only a little after that she saw another message sent to Aventurine's phone, and she would not have read it with her respect to privacy if it wasn't for Sunday's name catching her eye.

Personal message from Sunday to Aventurine: Your business is with me and not Robin. I hope you don't make the same mistakes as last time, as you make sure Robin stays away from this for you understand that any brother would wish to see no harm to his sister. I have taken your bait, understood that there is much we want to say to each other and you will eventually find me. Your luck may have send you to your desired outcome and will do so again, but your final wager, of a personal question once asked and answered, will not come to fruition. Now, will you take the bait now that I have taken yours?

"More of a threat than anything useful to say to me," Aventurine remarked, as he read over Robin's shoulder to find the hold up on returning his phone to him. Startled, Robin handed back the phone to Aventurine.

About the same like her own message, Robin thinks. Keep her safe.

Why has Sunday forgotten time and time again that she was no longer a helpless bird? Does he want to be her protector forever? Was it too much for him to think that she could get involved, and finally settle things once and for all?

'He's still my protector, even now,' Robin thought, long used to him protecting her and her never getting the chance to protect him to the point of one-sidedness and yet their mutual familial love for each other had never been a lie. Sunday just had to see it, is all.

There was a ping later, and Aventurine smiled as he held the phone away from Robin while muttering to himself.

"Haha but if that feather brain thinks it would be this easy to provoke me, think again," Aventurine said, as Robin frowned because feather brain could also be an insult to her even if it was meant for her brother. Even so, she returned Aventurine's smile when he rounded on her to ask:

"And will you continue with our collaboration?"

And Robin knew, when will she have another opportunity for her to meet Sunday once more?

"Yes."

Because she already had that answer long before it was even asked. 

And then, the Hounds came in. With the Trailblazer among them, looking at the group they have once left with the culprit they sought to find as they asked:

"What happened?"

Robin and Aventurine looked at each other, understanding one thing:

It's show time.

***

"Thank you for letting me accompany you for a while," Robin said, expressing her gratitude to the Astral Express when she boarded on the train.

"It's no problem. It's absolutely an honour to have Miss Robin of all people aboard the Astral Express! We should be thanking you for letting us invite you in instead," March squealed, as Robin sent her winning smile at such a wondrous statement.

"It's fine," Robin continued the conversation, looking at the rest of the Crew who looked amiable and friendly towards the newest temporary addition. She was glad that things had gone more smoothly than she thought, and hoped that such fortune would continue for her.

"Yes, thanks for being such great friends in allowing us to take the Trailblazer temporarily for our stunning collaboration," Aventurine piped in, having made himself cozy in the Express with a chip in hand that he played around.

The Trailblazer smiled, as they said, "I honestly should be thanking you guys. With your combined fans and the power of the legendary fedora and Harmony, it's not everyday anyone gets an opportunity to go big... despite what happened during the Charmony Festival."

"Which is so unfair," March pouted, "I would like to also stand on the stage with you all, even when I couldn't because you surprised us all at the Charmony Festival just like that. Of course I'm sorry for the explosions that happened and accusations against Miss Robin but who wouldn't want to be a star... Lucky that they have been cleared though~"

Thanks to the power of a Memokeeper and the Fool herself that admitted to everything once the fun was over. Robin felt immensely lucky for Black Swan, and the promise she gave her after because while she did want to search for her brother, she didn't want to leave Penacony behind when there was still so much that could... should be done.

"Don't worry, Penacony will be in safe hands Miss Robin. Just do what needs to be done."

"Why would you go out of your way for Penacony like this, Miss Black Swan?"

"Eventually, the memories will have to be seen to the end and every one of them deserves a fair chance to be seen. And I must say my curiosity is piqued by you and your brother's memories, to the very end. Do your best to make sure your wonderful memories don't get cut short."

Now, Trailblazer stuck their tongue out, and Aventurine looked nonplussed but Robin had the decency to looked sheepish and yet it wasn't her that planned the surprise at all, being a last minute endeavour all thanks to a certain man still playing with the chip in his hand.

She eventually found herself sitting with him, striking up the conversation before making the warp jump.

"It really had been fun collaborating White Night with you. You are a great dancer, Mr. Aventurine, and when watching the video again, you have garnered a lot of fans. Is this really your first time in the spotlight?" Robin asked.

"As someone who always goes for the win, I can't really say this is the first time in the spotlight nor my last. But to seriously answer your question, when it comes to dancing, I have quite a few tricks up my sleeve and thanks to the power of the media, I have been lauded as a dance influencer, one who had to take on the spotlight during my spare time to appease my fans," Aventurine answered.

Then he smiled, flipping the chip from one hand to another and continued, "But you are not really here to ask about something like that, right? Are you afraid that I might backstab you on our deal with your brother?"

Robin kept smiling, although she could feel herself twitching at the very prospect. It wouldn't be wrong to cut ties with that man now, but because it was only him that Sunday was willing to reach out, it was him that she had to stick around with just so she can get this opportunity to see Sunday once more.

"Don't worry," Aventurine continued smoothly, "Our goals still aligned, at least until the very end when we want different things out of Sunday. After that, it's just a matter of who gets to him first but for now, cooperation will help us find Sunday faster, am I right Miss Robin?"

Robin eventually nodded, although she didn't feel all too thrilled. She was sure that whatever plot was brewing along, it had yet to be fulfilled. Penacony just can't seem to get rid of the factions' many agendas.

"Finding Sunday faster, in the Xianzhou... with the Astral Express," Robin said.

The ping from Aventurine's phone before Robin agreed for the continuing collaboration had been the coordinates for Sunday's whereabouts. To get there, it would have been easy to simply board a ship and reach the destination but justifiable explanation was needed, especially with Robin's idol reputation preeceding her and any move she could make be watched with scrutinity that might complicate things. At the very least, a justifiable excuse somehow fell to their lap...

"Thankfully, the Astral Express were heading to the same direction that we were bound to go. It really is a lucky matter of fate and coincidence," Aventurine responded, and Robin once again nodded, not feeling really thrilled about that either especially when she heard of fate and coincidence.

It was because it was from fate and coincidence that Robin knew this was a stage set, but really for who? And for what reason? It really drove a Fool's parting words home, the moment that she left her to the Hounds:

'In the end, everything is just a stage and we are all the actors with an unknown director loving to play mind games. Even when you think you are free, your script still awaits you~'

Chapter Text

Sunday read his script once more, on his way to the Xianzhou as he wondered how much more Destiny's Slave had figured out. He also wondered how they could be so contradictory. He had seen for himself that Penacony's epilogue ended with a fallen Aeon once more and a brother and sister doomed for eternal separation. And yet, here he was on a mission to where his sister and adversary were following, all according to the script that Destiny's Slave had given him.

He remembered frowning at the particular mention of his sister since he remembered explicitly sending a message to Aventurine not to involve Robin but it would also make sense for the gambler to pay it no heed. Still...

"So which one is it?" Sunday murmured, "I can never see my sister again or we reunite."

To be honest, he still prefered the former no matter how heartbreaking it was because he wanted to get comfortable with his new life. He wanted Robin to live happily without him, to fly without being burderned by a bird that will only crash to his death. He knew they were all excuses and there was no such thing as eternal separation when both were alive which was enough for them to find each other again.

Yet, Sunday rather self-impose the epilogue when he thought he would stage exit left in his defeat. He had secretly meant for eternal separation, despite how much it would pain Robin to lose the only remaining family member left when he rather she never got shackled. When he never wanted her to hear the devastating news of his clipped wings until it was forced out of him during that fateful day.

He didn't know whether he could bear Robin receiving more devasting news about her brother until he became just a stranger to her after the years they have grown up. There was so much he should have told her, yet hesitated because he didn't want to upset her or hold her back from her dreams when it became too much for her.

He knew deep down that Robin was stronger than he ever was, but he had his own what-ifs, his own nightmares that he could never risk to come true. Robin had always been strong enough to put herself at the forefront, even at the cost of her life.

Sunday rather she live, no matter what. Especially after being shot, he couldn't fathom ever losing her. When he thought he really did lose Robin, he felt nothing really mattered except finding out who killed her and retaliating with extreme prejudice, anything else be damned. When he was killed so suddenly, the last thought he ever had was about Robin and how he would reunite with her and mother, once again as family. When he found out he was alive meaning that Robin also lived, relief was an underestimation for what he truly felt. And that had only deepened his resolve.

And now...

"It's too late for second thoughts now."

Sunday looked up to see his companion for this trip with him, Blade who up until now had been staring out of the window and boring his eyes right up to Sunday. He thought he spoke quietly that his companion couldn't hear him but Blade must have had good hearing.

"I had no such thing," Sunday reassured Blade, who only responded with raised eyebrows at the phone that Sunday had been clutching and poring over since boarding on ship and unlike Silver Wolf, it could easily be seen that it was not for gaming purposes.

"I really don't," Sunday insisted to Blade's disbelief even when it was obvious to the co-worker he was currently acquaintanced with that Sunday had been poring over the script too many times that if it were on paper instead, the paper itself would be worn out.

Sunday could remember when he had expected Elio to hand yet another folder of the script before he heard a ping in his phone and found an attachment sent to him. From paper to digital, Sunday had asked why Elio didn't just send him a digital copy in the first place, more convinient than a folder could ever be and the cat answered thus:

"It had more suspense, for you to notice the folder before it's handed out to you instead of a phone with the attachment, don't you think?"

Dramatics rarely made sense was what Sunday decided that day.

Blade simply stayed silent, going back to looking at the window out to the cosmos before finally saying, "As long as this does not affect the mission."

"It won't," Sunday sighed, putting his phone away and mulled over what he had to do. Although Blade was his partner in this mission just like the previous one, they had their own separate roles to play with their own personal goals met and only acting as each other's backup if things go awry.

Sunday didn't mind it this way when he was using a criminal organization to make ends meet and them for him, although Sunday wasn't sure to what extent. That didn't mean he didn't try making small talk to his partner in crime but Blade was not a talkative person, preferring short answers and silence to mull over his thoughts. Sunday didn't push it, preferring to dwell on his own thoughts as they found themselves in comfortable silence.

Along with the script, he had checked the news about the latest updates in Penacony, from Robin's name being cleared to Sparkle's subsequent arrest and escape that made authorities wary of a repeated crime, and finally Robin's departure from Penacony after a moving speech going forward but with explicit need to take a backseat from what had happened to her, namely what happened to her brother and subsequently being framed for the bombing.

A breather from Penacony and the tumultous events, exploring once more for her idol activities to wherever the galaxies take her and vouched by the reputed heroes of the Astral Express that she had nothing to do with either the Order conspiracy or the bombing that few were still skeptics to:

"Penacony needs time to heal from all the agendas that it has gone through but even with everything against us, the Planet of Festivities still remain intact. We will stand firm against remaining threats and look out for those who wish to destroy the sweet dream. I am thankful for those who remained unwavering about my innocence but after the Family's consideration, it is best I take a step back from Penacony's spotlight before getting entangled into anything that would bring me down. Thank you for understanding, and I hope to come back better than ever."

She promised to come back, once the flames die down and aimed to help the Family and Penacony for a better and brighter future.

'Nothing less from the star of the show,' Sunday thought, feeling proud as he would ever feel for his sister handling the crisis and still the star of the Family despite everything that happened. It was unfortunate that he knew that  his sister's 'taking a step back from Penacony's spotlight' would most certainly be 'getting entangled into anything that would bring her down'.

He had already laid counter-bait for the gambler, playing along his game for what come may. It would be his last loose ends from Penacony before he could truly follow along Elio's script without anything tying him down.

'Your sister,' Sunday thought but he pushed down that thought hard.

Sunday checked the script, still disbelieving that he was mixing up what he could consider personal business from Aventurine's gambit and a main mission Elio felt he was worthy to put through but when he reread the script until his own disbelief went away with the wind, he found Destiny's Slave was not shy to use anything in the Stellaron Hunter's life to fulfill the necessary goals.

He didn't even know how yet, with the script simply giving off the starting shot and letting the consequences run through with the pre-destined end, the middle such a question mark that Sunday knew his confrontation with Aventurine would be inevitable and that their parting would leave... a mutual understanding before Sunday could carry out his true mission but whatever happens in the middle, of a fight or conversation. Whether Robin might actually interfere, with how involved she seemed with Aventurine. What he was supposed to get out of all of this...

"Are you sure you are ready? You are nervous," Blade once again spoke, and jolting Sunday out of his thoughts. For the silent swordsman he knew briefly, he seemed more talkative than Sunday would ever see him.

"Am I really that nervous to you?" Sunday countered and Blade softly snorted.

"You kept tapping on the table," Blade said, and Sunday noticed a hand hovering over the table between him and Blade when seated for a lengthy trip to the Xianzhou. Sunday put both hands back on his lap, figuring his tapping on the table had been a subconscious habit out of nerves he simply had no idea until now.

He didn't like being that obvious, or showing out too much. As a Family Leader, even before when he was a mere Bronze Melodia and the Dreamaster's protege from being personally adopted by him, he had to keep his cards close to chest and show nothing. As a confident and perfect leader without weaknesses, so when... why did he become this open? To have subconscious habits giving him away? Inconceivable. And yet, it was his current companion who pick that up.

When he thought he perfected the leader image, there were still tells that he simply could not get rid of. Like what the Dreamaster and his sister would say, he still had an emotional side to him. One scorned it, the other smiled with nostalgia. And Sunday thought he hid it better but that was his own thinking, isn't it?

When he could no longer hide anything, he rather just come clean like how people confessed because what was the use of covering up anything that people already witnessed?

"So I did tap on the table. Maybe I am nervous because I am still unused to being a criminal," Sunday said in answer to Blade's observation and ignored the small snort coming out from Blade at the second sentence because no matter his first mission and subsequently being bait at the second, he personally didn't know how much more crime he could take.

"Regardless," Sunday stressed out, "Nerves does not mean one is not ready. I have prepared enough that I couldn't not be ready."

"You did prepare," Blade hummed in acknowledgement, and Sunday thought that the conversation will idle back to nothingness but Blade continued, "And yet that doesn't mean you are truly ready."

"What do you mean by that?" Sunday asked.

"Something is holding you back," Blade answered, a rooted statement Sunday frowned at because how is Blade so sure that he knew Sunday well enough?

"... Did your script tell you that?" Sunday pressed.

Blade stared at Sunday long enough for Sunday to feel uncomfortable, the blood red fathomless eyes not helping it one bit but he didn't back down, meeting back those red eyes before Blade slowly exhaled and looked away first, back to the window with a fathonless space only awaiting them.

"It did."

"And what did it say?"

"You don't need to know."

Sunday held back a sigh of frustration, when the conversation finally went idle because what was the point of such conversation in the first place. And yet it brought Sunday to certain awareness, of nervous habits he once thought he suppressed. And that Elio had let Blade know of a certain weakness to initiate that conversation.

Sometimes, even if he ever thought of defecting from the Stellaron Hunters, Elio already had enough blackmail material and told the others that escaping would not even cross his mind. It was a precarious situation he would hate but in trying to get use to it, he couldn't find any hatred in it.

Sunday wanted to study Blade, if not a little intrigued by the normally silent swordsman from their conversation but instead looked at the window in hopes to get to the destination, to satisfy the food of thought that such conversation implanted in him.

'Too late to have second thoughts. Something holding me back...'

There had been no such things on his script, and yet he knew that script was not all-knowing, leaving gaps for the Hunters to fill and learn from. So that meant he had to do away with them himself.

It was time to leave no stone unturned, and finally start this new lease of life. In determination. In confirmation.

'Blade was wrong,' Sunday thought determinedly, because nervous he might seem, he was particularly looking forward to the confrontation he must sought out and eventually find what needs to be understood.

And then nothing will hold him back.

***

When Sunday and Blade had arrived to the Xianzhou, they went their separate ways. The script required a flowing act, of more actions taking all over to come together for a stunning end. Other than personal business, Sunday had to further establish his criminal roots to a chaotic puzzle that will shock the world.

And yet, that story was simply in future's cards.

For now, he found himself strolling on the streets, hooded as he used a perception filter simply to hide himself along with his halo that was not easily hidden and worn once more as a choker just to wear the hood in the first place.

'An idol's job is never done, still known throughout galaxies far and wide even to the Xianzhou who was receptive to the famed songstress' arrival. With an unlikely but currently amiable Ten Stonehearts, famed dancer with less repute and yet a charming partner nonetheless. The hooded fan felt uneasy about the lucky dancer, possibly making an unlucky idol. The fan only had one chance to get the dancer's attention... showing his true self with the luck to take a glimpse and be followed where their inevitable encounter will occur because luck has foreseen their fate.'

Sunday had scowled at this particular snippet of the script, since of course even his own destiny chose to go all or nothing for someone who preferred to take no risks as if it rather follow along the gambler's needs than his own. But needs must.

For the prelude, he would be a mirage with his hood down and his halo back at its original position. Even with different clothes, darker than what he wore as the Oak leader, he would still be recognizable as the 'most handsome man in Penacony' by Aventurine with his dashing Halovian looks.

It would be a split second, a feel of the eyes, the yearning for presence to be sensed and something that would completely rely on luck for locked eyes, relevation to one where the rest would not have and subsequently luring without anyone else finding it suspect.

It was something so risky that it will never work. But it was a crazed gambler with luck throughly on their side that inversely and out of spite, it will work.

And when has destiny's script ever been broken?

When Sunday had spotted Robin and Aventurine talking to the locals, Sunday had idled at a lone corner, eyes boring towards Aventurine and waited for the time to turn off his perception filter as if it fumbled, and when Sunday could be seen for what he is, his eyes met Aventurine's Avgin eyes that narrowed in surprise before going back to normal. Sunday's perception filter turned on once more when Robin looked around and seemed to talk to Aventurine.

They were too far away to know what they were talking about, but Aventurine walked away from Robin who chose to talk to the locals and Sunday knew it was his cue to walk idly, right up until he walked where Elio described as such:

'The fan and dancer became a criminal and authority, playing a long game that the former only had a clue to and the latter holding all the cards. The criminal cared little, only wanting to do away one thing. Make sure that all was protected would not be vain from the authority that was more known to the criminal as a crazed gambler. Because why would he want to risk anything?'

"So is there any reason that you lured me out here instead of Robin?" Aventurine asked Sunday, who predictably spotted and followed him into a dark alleyway. Sunday gave a deadpan look since Aventurine should very well know why he didn't want to involve Robin in this, especially after what he implied but let it slide.

"First, I want to thank you for saving my sister," Sunday said first referring to what he saw at the news broadcast regarding how he helped Robin out of the theatre and then with the accusations, relishing Aventurine's shocked face but that was his sincere feelings. Aventurine might oppose him and he had no idea why he approached Robin and what he wanted to do to that regards, but he can easily appreciate his actions at the broadcast.

"Your welcome...?" Aventurine responded, and Sunday continued with a little more serious tone.

"And secondly, stay away from my sister," Sunday warned sternly.

"Is that what you are really worried about?" Aventurine asked with a smirk instead, "I have got you cornered right here and now. Shouldn't you be worrying about yourself?"

"Aren't you becoming too confident? Do you really think I would lead someone like you here without some kind of plan to ensure my own safety? I am not the one to take risks here, remember?" Sunday said.

"But I do take risks, and risks are meant to be overcome so who can say what the outcome here would be?" Aventurine countered.

The two men stared at each other, their own threats lingering the air with the consequence to stalemate but it was Sunday who broke it, "Is it too much for me to care about my sister? In the end, your target is me but I don't want my sister to come to crossfire ever again. She already had enough happening to her already."

It was yet another sincere plea that blanked out Aventurine's expression in some form of contemplation before he finally answered, "And whose fault do you think is that? If you are so worried, why don't you just go tell that to your sister yourself?"

Sunday went silent, refusing to answer that question. In the end, this conversation was leading nowhere and he wasn't sure what the gambler's play was. For now, he will have to vye for another angle in the hopes that Aventurine could spill what Sunday truly wanted to know.

"So, why did you come meet me? If you just wanted to arrest me, you would have called me out in the open instead of following me here," Sunday said, changing the subject.

Aventurine noticed the change of subject, but did not comment on it even when it seemed like he wanted to.

"Well, we did have a prior arrangement. I think it's now time to swap answers," Aventurine finally said.

Sunday raised his brows in surprise, remembering a past where he thought Robin's death a reality and wanted to persecute the Watchmaker, especially his lackey connected to the Memory Zone Meme Death. At that time, he found it suspicious that an IPC ambasaddor had found Robin's body at the wrong place and the wrong time. Prior to that, in his investigation, he had found out that Robin had checked the Oak families dossiers and tracing her footsteps, to further find out that she discovered secret letters from Aventurine.

'Secret letters about what? Were they planning to meet?  Is that why that gambler was the first to discover the body? What did he...'

Or was it his own fault, leaving those Oak family dossiers to be easily found by his sister with his own obsession and curiosity about the Watchmaker that he heard from the Dreamaster that went sour with hatred once Death was on the rise and the seeds of chaos bloomed. Robin's death was the last straw. Robin finding them had been fine because he thought it could serve her well knowing as a warning when the rest of the Family, even the Dreamaster, would keep quiet about it. How was he ever supposed to predict the outcome of his actions? Then again, who could ever predict 'death'?

Swapping answers at that time, when Sunday personally shackled Aventurine, had been his way of putting forth a trial for the gambler, seeing more of his character and tying up loose ends. After everything that happened, it became a non-issue because of parting ways and for all the unpredictability going on later, there had been no time nor need. So why bring this up again?

At the time, he wasn't really sure whether Aventurine was involved with the Watchmaker but knew he had an agenda in regards with the IPC which proved a deterrant for his own agendas. He decided he wanted to test Aventurine's character, judging him under the Harmony through a series of questions...

Sunday remembered his time from being a Bronze Melodia, with confessions from trifling to malicious, from sincere to unsincere. From poor lost souls to wanted criminals straying from their path when he had been questioning Aventurine, with steadily more personal questions concerning his race and his views. He found views particularly important to understand a character, and it was those views that he wanted to find out truly aligning with his or not, and the possibilities that might bloom once this meeting was done. Despite his pessimistic mindset about people, he understood that there were some with stunning capabilities and had always been open minded about the futures they could potentially give, as long as it could help ain for an ideal paradise. Deep down, when he was still a young trustful boy, he wanted to trust such open-mindedness about what laid in store for the future, even at the hands of a gambler, with echoes of the past and whispers of the future itself. Still, he was never one who truly took risks, and thus having his own precautions to act like how he was expected to, as they have seen...

"Why not? Aren't you the least bit curious about what I uncovered?" Aventurine pressed and Sunday tilted his head, not comprehending. Or... did not want to comprehend.

"Everything else had already been revealed. What is there left to uncover?" Sunday asked, crossing his arms and looking unbothered. Aventurine smiled at that response, as if it was expected.

"The fact that you even ask that and didn't walk away means that you are curious about what's happened all along, Mr. Behind The Scenes," Aventurine said, smiling ever wider, "This is about gaining more insights, especially after all those developing twists..."

Sunday kept silent, simply listening with a neutral expression but being called Mr. Behind The Scenes...

"Brother, why do you never join in with the band? Or sing and dance together? Everytime you play the violin, it's always to help me think up new songs but you don't play together with me on stage. Why is that?"

"Well, I just think I'm more better suited to the background. Everyone needs someone from behind the scenes to elevate them to the spotlight. That's just what I'm trying to do."

"But you always stand at the audience, looking up to me. I want you to stand next to me, singing along. Isn't that what we promised together?"

"Yes, we did, and it's not that I don't want to. It's just..."

"Hm, brother, are you... scared?"

"What? No! What makes you think that?"

"Hm?"

"... Yes."

"It's going to be OK brother! That's why I'm here, why we should stand on the stage together so when each of us are afraid, we can just be there to stop the fear. If I'm afraid of the stage, if I don't want to get up, what would you do?"

"I would have encouraged you, because you like being on the stage. You like singing and it's what you always dreamed..."

"See? And I would do the same for you. So, come on brother, come up and stand on the stage!"

Sorry sister, was the only thing left unsaid when the girl outstretched her hand to the boy only to be interrupted by a timely knock from the beautiful dream to harsher reality even in childhood. But he could never come up. Because even then, he was never sure whether he could fly, and thus... stayed back. Simply observing. And thus knowing.

Or maybe he simply could never admit to the girl that there was some fear that simply could not be overcome with simple encouragement and unision. It would not even feel like fear itself, but a form of it such as doubt and excuses until there was no place for him on the stage. At least...

"Ah, I know where to start," Aventurine said, hitting a fist on hand, "How about the true nature of a particular 'traitor'? The 'traitor' upholding the grandest act, betraying the Family by joining the Order but also betraying the Order by revealing everything about their machinations before even fulfilling the plan despite the risk that it could have spread."

A trusting boy, a forgiving Bronze Melodia and a benevolent leader. Not everything can be perfect. Neither the Harmony.

"If 'the strong defending the weak' is truly the foundation of paradise, then who is responsible for the suffering and anguish in this wretched world?"

Nor the Order.

"If 'the strong govern the weak' for a paradise without worries, then why does such paradise fall to ruin?"

A curious boy, an observant Bronze Melodia and a self-disciplined leader. Because not everything is perfect, he is through. Because there are always many sides to one thing, one needs to find the pros and cons. And it was only the pros that the Dreamaster spoke that Sunday had to check out the cons. Of planets somehow falling to rock bottom after extremely efficient development.

And thus, a man would believe both and neither walking on colliding yet overlapping paths. Known as a Harmony pathstrider to some and an Order pathstrider to others. He played both sides, but he had reached a question.

'If a paradise cannot be granted by Aeons, then what about exclusively for humans? But how?'

It was something he cannot say, or risk blasphemy. There were too many eyes and the responsiblities he shoulder, both as the Oak Family Head and as the twin of Order. But he knew his own ambitions made him blasphemous. He knew he will always have these questions.

And he wondered how he would get those answers. Until the Charmony Festival arrived.

"Makes it reasonable to believe that the 'traitor' had an agenda of their own, all within their ambitions. Well, I don't know why he would want to act out with the conclusion at hand but honestly, there's always a reason for acting out. It could be partly as bait, partly for what you truly believe in and partly for an answer. It is only when one reveals their cards against each other that they get the final result."

"So? It does not change anything," Sunday said, unaffected and crossed his arms with a bored face, "The 'traitor' still remains a traitor and thus gets their just desserts."

"If that was the case, I wouldn't be talking about it but really, you can be one cold customer," Aventurine chuckled, with a glint in his eye that raised Sunday's hackles, "It's just that a Fool with certain stories from a Fictionologist beg to differ."

Sunday didn't care much for the Fool, someone the gambler was just connected to as had been seen, but at the mention of the Fictionologist...

What did that man see in him to believe he made the right choice as a person of collaboration? What was it about his own ambitions did the person see to even think he would not betray the Watchmaker as someone under the Dreamaster despite going against the other Family Heads and the Dreamaster himself? Grieving over his lost sister had been an acceptable excuse in their eyes for his minor opposition but whatever collaboration that man had thought of might just backfire because could he afford such a move?

And then what would happen? It was a thought that refused to cross to the mind, because it only constituted to breaking a childhood dream of an ideal paradise, further into chaos and anarchy of entangled agendas that both the Harmony and Order in him refused to accept.

So when the Astral Express had convened for a meeting, he had a meeting of his own with the man. Without the ravens in the sky for the first time, far away from the ideal Dreamscape in the Dreamaster's reach, he had given out all his questions. He did not trust the man, but his sister was alive. Things were unravelling quicker than before and they were all going to confront the Dreamaster. His sister was going to get into the crossfire.

He felt like he had no choice.

"You really have a difficult master to serve, and one too hard to escape the clutches of. But what's the use revealing yourself like this? What's the use of asking me these questions? Do you expect me to give you an answer?"

"You... don't seem shocked."

"Only at your honesty, roundabout as it is. And your desperation, which isn't surprising considering how severe everything is. Especially for someone like you."

"And you are not... going to reveal it to them? To Robin?"

"Do you want me to? That depends on what you are going to do. What you want."

"..."

"At the very least, admitting this much means that I really did make the right choice with you. If we weren't bound by our Paths, we would have it so much easier. Fate really is a funny thing. In any case, I know you are looking for an answer but now that it's coming down to this, I can at least give you this advice. The Watchmaker decided to bet everything on the future Nameless to end the false sweet dream, and they might prove to have the merit for it. If you can't do it yourself, why not entrust it to others and see where that goes?"

Can he afford that? But he knew the Trailblaze, with their heroism and the feats they have accomplished. And yet, he knew he had to make sure. He had to test them. He had to reveal everything. He had to know. A paradise exclusive for humans by humans. When he gets back to the Dreamscape, the ravens would watch. And he could not afford to falter. If this was the result of his Path, however false it might be for Penacony's outcome...

So he whispered his plan, his first confession when he only heard confessions himself, and the man reacted violently:

"You are a lunatic!"

"..."

"And nothing is going to change your mind???"

"..."

"So damn stubborn! And what would your sister think of this?"

"Please don't tell her."

"I know you are doing this for her, and everyone else but you don't have to-"

"Please don't think this is a matyr's act. While I understand the cons of the Order, it aligns more with my ideal than anything else and if the Order succeeds, as long as everyone is happy, I can bear that burden. But I am sure my sister would desire another path, and yet I need to put it to the test to make sure it can reach that ideal. Maybe the new meaning will satisfy me more."

"... In the end, even if you preach this is for everyone, it is for your sister first and foremost, huh?"

"It stil is for everyone, and my sister is naturally included in everyone. I rather this than any other agenda, to be honest."

Still, he wished there was a better way, but the master won't let it so. At the very least, he needed to ensure his sister's safety. He needed to make sure she would not be forced in any way to be the puppet for the Order's plans, so he would do what needs to be done despite what the world would label him.

At the end of the day, she was the one he truly cannot lose. Not again, even if that was fake.

Such a blasphemous sinner, and he hoped his sister never knows. Because he couldn't bear how she would really feel if that were the case. This was, after all, his own choice.

"Finally, you reacted," Aventurine huffed a small laugh at Sunday's startled face before continuing, "So you do know what I'm talking about it, so let's drop the charades. While the Dreamaster is the true mastermind behind the Order conspiracy, you were just an unfortunate pawn for them with your own agenda. And even with the Order conspiracy, the Dreamaster might not be responsible for the Stellaron crisis that the Astral Express sealed up. Being the control freak you are, I am sure you had made your own through investigations and used those for your grand act to lead the heroes of the story to a certain point."

"But I would personally rather you swap such answers with me now that I have done my share. Wouldn't you do it for Penacony's future, helping us unravel all the villains?" Aventurine finally asked.

Sunday would help, but not for the IPC. Not for the Family.

'Only those worthy will come to the truth,' Sunday thought. People had to prove themselves or else it will go to the wrong hands, for the seeds that Sunday had planted and moved on with this new life. Reminiscing such a thing now was pointless.

He was no longer the Oak Family Head, nor the Dreamaster's chosen one. He was simply a Stellaron Hunter trying to finish up personal business.

"No answer, huh? Don't you not want to fact check my answers or are you scared that I hit the nail in the head?" Aventurine asked but Sunday won't take the bait.

"Or maybe I'm surprised at all those fanciful deductions, when the truth is plain to see. Are you planning to take up being a detective, or maybe a storyteller? Because I can say this doesn't particularly benefit you if it would lead you to a wild goose chase. After all, the world has accepted that all the villains had been found out," Sunday said.

"No, when I put my chips on the table, I would like to know whether there are some duds or not. When the game's not over yet, it's easy to determine a chip's value beforehand and see what kind of possibilities it can give. And if they were cards, it's easy to find out whether they are cards meant to be folded or a trump card for the final victory. Even a gambler needs to deduce every now and then in the test of luck so it's overall beneficial," Aventurine answered.

"Same as always, but it's all for naught. As I said, the truth is plain to see, isn't it?" Sunday asked, driving to a point.

"Oh? What is the truth then, my friend?" Aventurine asked mockingly, and Sunday could only stay silent. Some secrets were better kept to the grave, no matter how many people might have had an inkling on what truly happened behind those scenes such as this gambler, a certain Fool and History Fictionologist. He was thankful that the involved parties were keeping quiet since it would cause no end of chaos and was fine with the current narrative of events.

"What else than being a wanted criminal from my own choices? Isn't that the most convenient truth?" Sunday asked, smiling amiably and putting the conversation down. That was his final answer. And it was the truth, because even if some truths seem convinient to the point of a lie, nothing's going to change the fact that he did become a wanted criminal from his own choices.

"If that's what you want, then don't mind if I arrest you right here and now. I will make sure to tie up the loose ends my own way," Aventurine said, stepping forth but Sunday stood his ground, the amiable smile never leaving his face.

'The criminal and authority found themselves at odds, in the end after a conversation showing that neither can be left alone and yet it was enough for the criminal to understand what needed to be done next. Resolve anew, the criminal was ready to fly anew even through the darkness far more suitable for him. And tread longer to a path that he can't help look back every once in a while.'

"I'm sorry," Sunday apologized, "But there are a few things I want to see until the end. If you can actually catch me, I will admit defeat. Until then..."

In Sunday's hand flicked out a baton. Faster than what Aventurine could possibly anticipated, Sunday went behind the gambler with the metal baton as sharp as a knife up to his neck and only blocked by another sound of metal. It was from limited perception behind Aventurine that he noticed he was holding a chip in his hand against the baton, metal scraping metal.

"That was very rude, don't you think?" Aventurine asked.

"Forgive me if I only want to ensure my own survival," Sunday answered, "I have nothing against you personally now, but survival does bring out our basest instincts, doesn't it?"

"Then why didn't you escape and play this new farce?" Aventurine asked, curious, "There's no one here but us for you to play a hostage angle and I hope you are not naive to believe this kind of coercion would make me let you go. This would have only worked unless you plan to kill me."

"You speak lowly of me, Mr. Aventurine, but that's fair considering I am a wanted criminal now. Still, I would have never stooped so low. It was just that I want to be villainous considering my status and at least leave the parting message of 'Stay away from my sister' once more in threat and leave altogether," Sunday answered, his baton trying to cut through the resilient chip to no avail.

"You have a terminal case of siscon, my friend," Aventurine sighed mockingly, the chip in hand also pushing back the baton for more breathing room without any progress even when Sunday tilted his head curiously at the term without asking for its meaning when they were in the middle of something here. Once again, they were locked in stalemate.

And in reality, thanks to uncertain circumstances, one had to concede. And the uncertain circumstances being...

"Brother," A voice called out from behind, and he could recognise it anywhere, anytime...

And he knew how this stalemate had to break, because...

Not like this. Not now. Nevermore.

And that will always be his final answer. Because he was never made to shine on the stage let alone meant to. The stage had always been meant for those with the more deserving talents, after all.

Chapter Text

"Brother! Wait brother!" Robin cried, when she had caught him red handed in a fight with the IPC ambassador. Sunday was startled but did not waste time running the opposite direction from where Robin was, making both Robin and Aventurine chase after him.

"Why did this have to happen?" Robin asked Aventurine, although she could guess well considering the heated argument that she stumbled upon. She was happier that neither men were injured, just leaving it to a verbal spar rather than a physical confrontation although Aventurine had more rights for violence if it meant apprehending a wanted criminal.

Not that she wanted her brother to be an apprehended wanted criminal but the times they were living now, huh?

"I didn't expect him to actually straight up run away from you," Aventurine protested, "I would at least expect him to freeze in shock and give me an opportunity to capture him, but your brother might be colder than I thought."

"... I don't think that's the case, Mr. Aventurine," Robin said, without much emotion to the slight insult against her brother. She doesn't have to like it but it was something she will probably have to get use to now that her brother betrayed the Family and became a wanted criminal.

"In any case, your plan failed and now we are chasing after Sunday," Robin continued, "Do you have a backup plan for this?"

"Before I tell you of any backup plan," Aventurine said quickly even as his sight never wavered from Sunday in their chase through the alleys without much people to witness such a spectacle but it was only a matter of time, "When we were talking, were you able to get a read on Sunday with that halo telepathy of yours?"

All along, Robin had been aware  of Aventurine's plan when he had told her and was tasked to wait in the sidelines while Aventurine went to have a talk with Sunday. She had been planning to jump in had Aventurine did anything untoward to Sunday considering their deal about diverged paths and possible backstabbing when it came to their goals about him and yet she had stayed back all this time in muted surprise about what Aventurine unravelled to Sunday and his simple denial against such facts  after long periods of silence.

That alone, to any listener, was not enough to determine whether Aventurine's theories held weight or whether Sunday's denial by asserting him to be the criminal of the matter were true or not but as a Halovian just like her brother, she had an advantage that could shed light to such matters. That is, in Aventurine's words, halo telepathy. 

It doesn't necessarily constitute mind reading and it was something she would never do without consent but it could at the very least intuit emotions between Halovians which was enough for them to at least have an understanding of the nature a Halovians thought process would be having. The bouts of silences Sunday had while listening to Aventurine's theories and before answering had been brief and yet, Robin knew much went through that sharp and meticulous brain of her brother's.

"He thought a lot while you had accused him, mostly of determination either unswayed or re-established and he wasn't lying when he confessed himself to be a criminal but that didn't feel like the whole truth. He felt a little uneasy when you brought up the Fool and History Fictionologist but when you asked about swapping answers for Penacony's future and unravelling other villains..."

"What is it?" Aventurine pressed, as the alley of the Xianzhou Sunday had been running through would slowly cease and bring him to light. By then, depending on certain actions, it would be their make or break moment.

"There are other villains to unravel but you have to be worthy of it. That's what I feel he was thinking, but I can't say for sure..." Robin said, uncertain how she could exactly come to this conclusion for what Sunday had been thinking about at the time because Halovian telepathy is not the equivalent to mind reading but even all their years apart when they were forging their distant paths for the same dreams, her brother... is still a familiar read like when they were children. And she could always read her brother's determination like the back of her hand, even when she wouldn't specifically know what it would entail. Such as that time with the Order conspiracy...

Robin shook her head, trying not to beat herself up over the what-ifs that had plagued her mind from time to time when it came to their time apart, of their diverging paths that she had realized and didn't want to believe until it was to late. She had been aware of her brother's unease but although she could discern the nature of her brother's thoughts, anything she could come up with would be speculation on her part and never completely true. Halovian telepathy was not omniscent after all.

Such excuses still didn't help dispel her own guilt and the incoming what-ifs. It also made her doubt whether she truly read her brother right when Robin knew she was actually good with people and able to read them better which had been essential when fulfilling the fans' wishes and dealing with media personnel.

And yet Aventurine took it in stride with a smile, as he said, "But you still brought it up anyway. Although the possibility is in doubt, it just means Sunday knows more than the version he is willing to sell to us. All the more reason to get him to open to us, wouldn't you agree?"

With a smile, Aventurine took out the chip and witnessed his surrounding before seeing the alley walls with hanging lanterns to dimly illuminate the dark alleyway and with a flick of his hand, the chip was sent to loosened the hinge that kept the lantern on the wall until it swayed and fell... right in front of Sunday when he was still at full speed ahead.

Startled, he had tried for a sidestep that led him to bumping the wall in the narrowing alley and enough to momentarily stop him in his tracks for Robin and Aventurine to get closer, almost for their hands to actually reach out for Sunday...

Sunday did not waste time whipping out his baton, for black birds to come out. Countering that, Robin had took out her mic and sent out white birds. Black and white clahsed and all this time, Robin could see the unbearably sad face that he suddenly had.

"Robin, you... you didn't have to be here," Sunday finally said as he summoned more birds meant to oppose their movements in the chaos, even in the flurry of feathers as it was enough time to get up and continue running even when Robin had yet to respond to such a final statement...

'Of course, I have to be here! Do we really have to leave things like this? Couldn't we have still be united in our dreams?'

'... Are you really just going to leave me behind? Even when I will still always be your little sister, couldn't we just... stick together a little longer when we are the only... brother and sister we have for each other?'

"No, you can't just leave her like this!"

It was a voice that belonged to no one, and Robin had to look around to spot Sunday being stopped by a familiar plush bunny.

"Mr. Bun Bun???" Robin asked in disbelief.

Sunday must have known that Robin and Aventurine would not slow down in their pursuit even when facing the birds with more birds and chips but still turned back to pick up the plush rabbit with the same disbelief that Robin felt. The soft arms were hitting on his arms but Sunday blatantly ignored it as he slipped by another alley in the flurry of birds obscuring their vision.

By the time that Robin and Aventurine caught up, Sunday was lost in the darkness. It was amazing how Sunday managed to turn the tables when they had been so close to catching him but anything goes, she guesses.

"Hmph, such a misplay. What was that about?" Aventurine asked, and Robin found herself having no answer for that.

"That was just Sunday being so stubborn."

That voice again, and Robin looked to see that it was Mr. Bun Bun that was standing right in front of Robin.

The bunny jumped and Robin instinctively opened her arms to catch the bunny and hug him to her arms, looking in astonishment at the speaking bunny before her. There were a lot of questions she wanted to ask, but first and foremost...

"Since... since when do you speak?" Robin asked.

"I have always spoken. You just couldn't hear anything... until now," Mr. Bun Bun said.

"Wait, the most important question should be how is that bunny here in the first place. Didn't Sunday take you? How did you escape from him?" Aventurine asked.

Robin knew that those eyes that were simply white cloth stiched in shouldn't be giving any form of expression but she felt very deeply that the bunny was actually giving the Ten Stoneheart the stinkeye which made no sense because Aventurine shouldn't have done anything to this... newly came to life plush bunny.

Nevertheless, the bunny answered Aventurine politely, "Sunday did take me but I can go anywhere I want! Just like this~"

Without any warning, the rabbit disappears from Robin's hands to Aventurine's hair, taking off his sunglasses that he had been wearing and putting them on his face before teleporting right back to Robin's shoulder as she took him back to her arms. Aventurine aimed to take his sunglasses back but the rabbit turned away, undoubtedly irking the man before them.

"That's... Mr. Bun Bun can teleport. Alright..." Robin said, juggling through her need to question that or just ask the more questions with the plush bunny's sudden intrusion. Nevertheless, Mr. Bun Bun decided to answer such an unasked question anyway.

"Why is it so surprising that I can teleport, Princess Robin?" Mr. Bun Bun asked, using a title that confused Robin until they continued, "Remember when you were young and trapped and Sir Sunday promised he and his merry band of knights would always appear anytime and anywhere to rescue you? This knight in shining armor can do anything you so wish for, because us toys have the power to be and do anything you so wish us to be."

And as if to prove those words, a knight's helmet was worn onto their head making it a little heavier to hold onto Mr. Bun Bun and yet such an appearance along with those words brought up nostalgic memories that have not been thought of after being grown up and discarding the childishness of the past for the maturity of the future.

"Save me, sir knight~"

"Fear not, princess. With my band of merry men, we will free you from this wicked dragon."

Two siblings when they had still retained their childishness had come up with many games to spend their idle time, surrounded by many toys and entertainment to play along. Allowed to be children after a destroyed world where they weren't more than human and now could act like children.

They had finished playing a game, with the sir knight of a brother rescuing his princess of a sister from a tower made of pillows. They laughed and talked and it was the little knight that promised the little princess.

"Just like the knight, I will always rescue you when you dearly need it sister. Even when I can't, my merry band will always be there for you."

"How can that be, brother? Can this merry band of toys really teleport anywhere I want and save me?"

"It is because they are toys that they  can do anything. When we play them to be our merry band of protectors, musicians... anything, they will become who we want the most to be. Like right now, our merry band are our huggers to make us sleepy and rest up for the next day~"

"Oh brother..."

The siblings giggled, a nice aftermath for the reason they were playing knight and princess at an unfortunately late night. There were times that the siblings will have nightmares over the life they had before their adoption, of their destroyed world with them as their only true family left...

A brother had wanted to comfort a sister and reassured with the game of a knight rescuing the princess from the clutches of nightmares, left hugged by a stalwart merry band of toys that have never left them alone for much sweeter dreams...

And who knew, that a promise of the never leaving merry band, of toys that always do the impossible for whatever they wish, would always remain true... to the end of days?

Robin was struck speechless to the rabbit's statement, unsure how to make of it but felt touched deep down. What that meant now though...

"Moving on from all that," Aventurine said, getting Robin out of her thoughts and moving the conversation along for a better grip of something they have yet to understand, "Why did you come for us? Is there something you want?"

"And why do I have to tell you?" Mr. Bun Bun pointedly asked.

"There is something that you want to tell to Ms. Robin," Aventurine pointed out, "And I am sure she wouldn't mind me being here to listen in~"

Did she actually mind Aventurine being here? The closer they were to Sunday, the more dwindling their cooperation stands to be, with their diverging goals going to be more apparent at the very minute. She understood that Sunday needed to face justice, but at the hands of the IPC or even the Family? For one, she wondered about a fair trial. For another, Sunday living his life being a wanted criminal was something she could almost come to terms with if it meant him being alive and fine...

Not only that even when Aventurine always claimed that Robin could end this cooperation at any time, even to the point of backstabbing, that didn't mean Aventurine wouldn't do the same.

"What would you prefer, Mr. Bun Bun?" Robin left the decision to the plush bunny, and ignored the slightly hurt and betrayed look that Aventurine was displaying for simply not playing along with his whims. Of course, it could be a ploy of his own for purposes unknown to her because he should have seen the end of Robin's patience since even he advocated for backstabbing.

Leaving the decision to the plush bunny was to see how they reacted and the way they stared at Aventurine's eyes from sewed up white cloth to the unique Avgin eyes made it the funniest showdown to be seen. In this short but tense staredown, Aventurine said:

"You don't want to waste time, do you?"

"Hmph, if I actually had the means to do you away, I actually would but I don't so feel free to tag along. Move those legs or else you won't get to see Sunday again, Robin. I will explain everything else along the way."

The bunny gave a gentle push and a wave of their arms for her feet to follow, with Aventurine right at her side.

"I thought toys could do anything," Robin said, dredging up memories about her childhood, "What do you mean that you don't have the means to do Mr. Aventurine away, as you say it."

"... In the end, we do not live in a dream, Robin. Reality is less kind with the limitations they have. Infinity does not exist, because there is a saying that if the sky is the limit, then can we reach space? And when we reached space, could we travel the galaxies and so on. People are still discovering the boundaries of infinity but they realize that the moment they breach one boundary, more will always exist thus truly having a limit for everything. I do not have enough powers of a sweet dream to manipulate harsh reality to that extent."

"... What... have you become?" Robin asked the plush bunny, trying to wrap her head up of such an explanation. It sounded as pessimistic as Sunday and yet had its own merit. Still, it did not clear up any remaining confusion, such as this weird inkling when the bunny was refering to dreams and reality. Mr. Bun Bun had been a toy until now, popping out of nowhere and then now wanting to reunite her with Sunday...

She just didn't get it.

"I'm not entirely sure myself, Robin," the bunny answered truthfully, "I don't think Sunday really knows either but I feel... especially connected to him and I know this is what he would rather want than what he has been trying to do."

"This?" Aventurine asked, intrigued by the conversation as much as Robin.

"... Sunday did not need to be stubborn to just meet his little sister despite the dangers to come," Mr. Bun Bun admitted softly, "Just because of what happened doesn't mean you can't achieve your dreams... together. It would be so sad otherwise."

"Mr. Bun Bun..." Robin said, not sure how to take their heartfelt wishes and wondered whether this was really what Sunday thought, if the bunny was truly connected to Sunday. And Robin didn't doubt that notion.

No matter what Sunday said, the toys was always able to move to his whims rather than her own but for the bunny to gain sentinence itself showed greater power than when they were children, greater power to the point of unfathomable that defied common sense when she wasn't sure even the Abundance's powers could bring forth life to what was once an inanimate object. And Sunday never had Abundance powers in the first place, so how?

So why?

"There he is!" 

At first the bunny pointed out to what she felt like an unassuming man, without any Halovian features that made the man the furthest thing away from her brother but even from the man, when she tried, she felt like she could read confused, worry and almost exasperated and resigned emotions.

And she also felt how those emotions turned into startlement as her own halo picked up at being read itself...

Halovian telepathy can go two ways after all.

The unassuming man had suddenly turned around to look at the duo, with his eyes widening at the plush bunny in Robin's arms before he looked around, with a fight or flight response.

"Oho, is that Mr. Sunday?" Aventurine whispered to Robin with a grin on his face, "Seems like that filter perception of his is working fine."

It works well as a disguise because even when Robin took a double look at the man who she felt sure was Sunday, she couldn't pinpoint anything telling about his appearance that he felt unnaturally unassuming that made it more suspicious upon realization.

All too suddenly, the feeling of resignation and a swell of anger directed to the Avgin next to her for his closeness could be felt by Robin, tuning in further to her brother's emotion in this telepathic conversation before Robin sent out worry and slight anger of her own at being left behind, with the need for explanation, with the need to know that  no matter what, that at least they could still see each other again.

That her only family left wouldn't just leave her behind, just like that.

Remorse, regret and sadness was what Sunday radiated to Robin, and yet resigned was the forefront of those emotions that blindsided Robin. Resigned to what? Was it because he became a criminal and felt like he could no longer approach his superstar idol of a sister?

She radiated confusion but once her brother finally stopped short of her, so unfamiliar with his disguise and yet so familiar for his emotions, the only answer he left to her confusion was absolute silence.

"Thank you very much for finding my bunny," Sunday said, acting like a stranger in his disguise as ever an actor of his own from childhood playing many roles to keep Robin entertained and even to now when he climbed up the ranks in the Family from Bronze Melodia to an Oak family leader and playing suitable roles needed to deal with all types of characters if Robin remembered right.

"Huh, this is yours?" Robin played along, a good actress herself and for Aventurine's credit, he kept quiet and watched the whole thing unfold in amusement. With a technically unwelcome third party, Robin wanted to be careful what she said and did. This was something she would rather have privacy about, and although halo telepathy would do the trick, Sunday had already closed off to her.

What did he not want her to know...?

The rabbit for their part had kept quiet throughout the exchange but Robin could sense that it was eager to see where the conversation would go. Sunday might have felt the same, as he had outstretched his hand for the bunny and Robin gave it to him.

"Thank you very much," Sunday said with relief, "It was an old toy of mine that my little sister lost. It means a lot to the both of us and I wouldn't know what to do if I couldn't find it."

It was probably an excuse for making an ongoing conversation to maintain a facade of normalcy to any onlookers accidental or otherwise but that didn't mean Robin wasn't going to use this against Sunday if he thought he could just end things here and leave.

"Are you planning to return this toy to your little sister? Your little sister must mean a lot," Robin said, and Sunday looked around to see a few people edging closer in curiosity, not because of such a mundane conversation but because people have recognized Robin. Trying to back out the conversation without reason might cause some controversy for Robin fans, or cause unnecessary drama so Sunday had no choice to play along all the same.

Robin could feel the tinge of annoyance and even more of that resignation that Robin can't help feel superior and worried over respectively. They could say so much through their telepathy but it was only with words conveyed that they can truly know what they mean to each other without needless speculation.

"She does mean a lot to me," Sunday sighed, still clutching at the rabbit tightly with hints of confusion before looking straight at her, "I wouldn't want her to put herself in danger, especially with... unsavoury individuals. Honestly, if I became an unsavoury individual myself, I wouldn't want my sister to be anywhere near me either."

Sunday laughed but Robin didn't find it funny. She also didn't even need to look at Aventurine to know what expression he made at Sunday's comment about unsavoury individuals.

"And what if your sister still wants to be with you no matter what? It sounds like you matter to each other a lot. I wish that could be said the same with me and my brother." 

"Maybe it's for the best," Sunday finally said, affecting sympathy, "Even the closest of people could have unimaginable falling outs."

"I wish that it never had been like this. I wish... I knew why my brother did what he did."

"Who knows? Such truth is lost forever and maybe even hopeless to find out. I hope you will find it in you to let this go and move forward with your life."

Was he telling here to forget about it? Was he hinting about a truth and warning Robin not to find it? Was he asking her to move forward in her life without him? 

"Never," Robin hissed and Sunday startled but she felt a little satisfaction on that because...

That would be too sad, and even cruel.

"... If... if your sister ever found out the truth, couldn't you... just for once, trust in her?"

She couldn't keep up with this pretense much longer.

"I have always trusted her. Maybe... I have always been too much of an overprotective brother."

Neither could her brother, but it was why he clutched the bunny tighter and said, "As much as I would like to talk to the famous Miss Robin more, I have a bunny to take back. Farewell, Miss Robin. I hope the best of luck in your endeavours."

Not see you soon but farewell with such finality as if Sunday expected such a brief chat would be enough closure and Robin would let this go. 

Robin was sure Sunday didn't believe in such a thing. He must have known her stubborness and disatisfaction with such matter but Sunday pointedly ignored it, as he boarded a starskiff and flew to the skies.

"He... just flew off in that starskiff," Aventurine said in disbelief, "Does he even have a license for that?" 

"Of... of course he doesn't," Robin said, because her brother rarely needed the means to actually drive mostly holing himself up to work at Penacony at the behest of the family, and if needed for transporation which involves and yet does not restrict itself to visiting his little sister, drivers and hailing a ship was all Sunday would need.

"Of course Sunday does not have a license, like he surely doesn't have a license for riding that motorbike. Maybe he is getting all too used to criminal life."

Robin frowned at that notion, because if her brother actually schemed the whole Order conspiracy to the point of not minding failure because he could adjust this well to criminal life that was forced onto him since he cannot go back to his old life, then Robin will have some words.

The direction of their lives couldn't be any less funnier even if they tried.

"Hey, wait, stop! That man just stole my starskiff!" Someone cried out, pointing to the starskiff that Sunday had just taken off with, and Robin could only think that of course the starskiff wouldn't belong to Sunday as if renting under a fake name wasn't an option...

He really adjusted well to the criminal life that was forced onto him.

"What are you going to do now?" Robin asked Aventurine, wondering with everything that happened and what he would do next. She was steeling herself to backstab or be backstabbed at any moment because she was not naive enough to believe it wouldn't happen anytime soon.

"Well, finally have a vacation," Aventurine said casually and Robin did a double take.

"Huh, are you surprised?" Aventurine asked, amusement shown in his eyes, "Even if I wanted to capture Sunday now, I'm not sure how much the Xianzhou would cooperate us to find out who that starskiff belonged to and tracking them down."

"So you are going to give up that easily?" Robin asked, almost incredulous.

"Shouldn't you be glad that I'm giving up the chase to send your brother to prison?" Aventurine asked, and with Robin's curious and wary stare, he continued, "Honestly, I simply believe there will be other opportunities to meet again. I just don't find it particularly productive to continue this goose chase at a particular time."

Is that really it? From the Ten Stonehearts gambler that had tried to bait Sunday, confront him and observe the siblings' conversation?

"What are you going to do now?" Aventurine quickly changed the subject and unlike Aventurine who gave his own roundabout answer that could either be truth or lie, Robin opted for silence and made a silent vow heard by no one but herself.

'Fine, brother...' Robin thought, as she looked up at the Xianzhou sky, 'Just because we are going opposite paths doesn't mean we have different dreams. It doesn't mean we will never intersect. I will find out your truth and you will no longer refute me...'

So that for such a vow, a promise that she could once again hear the familiar 'It's a deal' from a certain someone...

***

It was unsurprising that Robin and Aventurine cut ties there and then, when neither wanted to open up anymore. A cleaner separation than Aventurine thought but maybe Robin was more bighearted than he ever thought.

Aventurine sighed, knowing he had his fill of his 'vacation' and will be called back to the IPC one way or another ready for yet another job and the verdict for what he had done to deliver Penacony's outcome. If he had any regrets with the outcome of his 'vacation', it was Sunday escaping from his clutches.

Even when his orders about Sunday stated that it didn't matter whether he captured or escape with whatever info coming out from the ex-leader the most important thing, it still left a bitter taste for Aventurine.

'I still haven't settled our score yet.'

Aventurine would not be satisfied until he sees Sunday in chains for he hated leaving everything like this hanging. He will not come out of this one-upped by a wing headed scoundrel who left without any proper conclusion, which was obviously Aventurine turning the tables and proving his superiority. 

It was a matter of principle at this point, because he would never leave a game unfinished. Either way, he found himself with useful information at the end, while finishing his long time objective of bringing the Nameless and Robin away from Penacony at a brief time while the IPC sink their claws into Penacony.

'At least Topaz and Jade wouldn't run as much interference than with the Nameless and Miss Robin around.'

Well, with orders officially finished, he should probably go back to Pier Point or just enjoy the Xianzhou without overexerting himself anymore because honestly, there was only so much breaks he could take in between when he hadn't fully recovered from his brush with Nihility among other things.

Aventurine was not exactly a workalcoholic but a few more brownie points might be worth it to make sure that he truly doesn't get punished for breaking a Cornerstone no matter what Jade implies.

He knew the Nameless was busy with the War Dance in the Xianzhou while Robin was still determined to find her brother so they might not be heading to Penacony anytime soon. He will have to relay his speculation to Topaz and Jade in Penacony and see what their investigation will come up with but his hardwork might not be all for naught.

'Huh, I still wonder whether I have anything in my-'

Unfortunately, he heard his phone ring, and he took it out to call.

"Hey, where have you been you muddlesucker peacock? Did you forget what we have fudging agreed on?"

Aventurine almost sighed, remembering about everything that he found himself caught up with. Sunday might as well be the least of his worries but it still lingered within his brain, refusing to go to the back burner.

Still, that didn't mean he should ignore the call.

"Mr. Boothill, do you think so lowly of me? These things take delicate handling-"

"Delicate handling my booty! Don't promise anything you can't deliver or do you need another visit wherever the fudge you are so my bullets would leave a real good impression on ya?" Boothill asked over the line, the mock and impatience apparent in his voice. 

"Oh, so does that mean you are not satisfied with someone like me? Then good luck in handling the matter yourself since apparently it doesn't require my 'delicate handling'," Aventurine chirped, not really meaning it and just playing the Galaxy Ranger.

"I don't need some motherfudging luck, you son of a nice lady! Don't start getting your panties in a twist from my rough talk right here. I know there are things that ain't gonna be done in a day but I ain't gonna take any crepe on someone who decided to forget our fudging meeting, baby."

"Oh," Aventurine said, checking his watch and remembering what day is today, "The system hours between planets and even the Xianzhou ships can mess with my time..."

"And you think I caree about such hogswaggling excuses?" Boohill huffed, "Just get your booty right here before I start feeling like shooting on sight."

Honestly, Aventurine should be paid overtime but since this was a more personal project, he could let it slide. The work he put himself to...

And Aventurine was rudely hung up. The blonde Avgin sighed at the sheer audacity but that's what he's been getting with working with such... difficult men even when they have uses. There was the Doctor, even when much was an act to lure in bait and fulfill a grand plan. It was just that Ratio could stand to be a little warmer with such cold exterior. 

Sunday could have been a potential partner, if that meeting in Penacony long time ago had been either negotiation or judgement instead of straight up execution because Aventurine could have overturned any odds but yes, sure, get mindblasted for his troubles and even with a potential alliance up in the cards even in this aftermath if Sunday would just cooperate, the man does the oppostite...! At least he was not mindblasted once more.

And then there is now Boothill who coerced him into this cooperation that Aventurine hopes to use his luck to garner something good out of it. He missed the time when his partner was only Ratio but the world moves on and so does he.

In the back of his mind, Sunday was surely the most difficult partner to get or an extremely annoying enemy to have and someone he can't let his guard down around. Sometimes, when his 'better judgement' (the one that discourages gambling and wants to play safe like anyone with a decent sense of caution should have in extremely dangerous situations but do people really listen to such nagging 'judgement'?) decided to show up once in a while, it nags whether wanting to see Sunday again and playing his luck for such an outcome was worth it.

'Who says I can't mix work and pleasure? Let's see where the chips take me~'

Aventurine always ignores such judgement because as long as his luck allows it, as long as he lives this blessed (cursed) life, any outcome good or bad would always turn prosperous for this final victor, all the way to the white night~

Chapter Text

When Sunday took the starskiff to get away from Robin and Aventurine, his new famous last words had been "If I can ride a motorbike, why can't I ride the starskiff?"

Those words became a prelude for why Sunday would later be banned from every vehicle in existance because everyone would prefer to refuse a third strike from the reckless criminal, adding illegal driving of absolutely high dangers into his crimes but Sunday would decry all that as exaggeration.

Because he rode a motorbike unscathed. The same could be said for the starskiff.

The same could not be said for any building, person or starskiff in the vicinity but it was truly a miracle there was nary a casualty.

The only casualties were inanimate objects and unlike in Penacony, they do not have the voice to complain or message the proper authorities for compensation and justice. Owners of said inanimate objects do but at least for all intents and purposes, Sunday was sure they were safe.

"Honestly, let me drive. I'm sure we can get to our destination in a safer way than whatever you are doing now."

He looked at his passenger on the starskiff, holding on for dear life if they even have any life in them all, Mr. Bun Bun. Sunday frowned, saying, "And how can you drive, of all things? With your... ah, forgive me, stubby legs and hands."

"What? How dare you?" Mr. Bun Bun gasped, offended, "That is toy discrimination and I did not expect that you of all people to fall so low for such a thing!"

"Again, apologies. I honestly am still reeling from this situation. Making levity of it, even if it was making fun to the point of insults to you, was hardly an appropriate reaction," Sunday apologized.

Normally, Sunday wouldn't be this rude. He was the prim and proper Oak Family leader who knew better to mind his manners even in front of his enemies and only spitting out viritol when there was nothing left to hide and truly deserved. And even he knew that the bunny did not deserve any insult to their toy-ness, despite how Sunday felt about the matter.

And yet for some reason, he couldn't help the banter as if he had done it all his life with Mr. Bun Bun. Then again, right up until his teenage years, he had aspired much with the toy and had spoke in that simple crude way once before, in learning how to make a comedy skit for his sister. It was quickly discarded in favour that it simply was not his style but maybe reinforced old habits.

A weak justification for his rudeness, but something that nagged him within his mind. A familiarity that shouldn't exist for the unexpected. When Mr. Bun Bun did not talk beyond Sunday's apologies, Sunday decided it was best to get his questions out of the way.

"Why are you here?" Sunday finally asked. He did not ask how the plush bunny came to life or what they really are. Faintly, he had ideas. But he wanted confirmation as well.

"Ah, so you do have some inkling of what I am, don't you Sunday? I guess I told Robin a lie when I said you don't really know to her but what are a few little white lies, when the both of us are sorting this out with this connection between you and I?" Mr. Bun Bun answered, "I still wonder though, why you are so surprised about this outcome when it is by our connection and your deeds that this was inevitable."

"Excuse me?" Sunday asked, being thrown off the blue by such a statement.

"How to make sense of this...?" Mr. Bun Bun asked instead, reaching out for an answer that Sunday would like to know thank you very much, "You are the reason I am alive and with you with our special connection tying each other especially when you were children."

"But it wasn't to this extent," Sunday stressed out, "Neither me nor Robin had the power or ability to make an inanimate object... come to life."

Neither Sunday nor Robin were touched by the Abundance for such a thing to happen, and even if they had been, Sunday wondered whether the Abundance really had the capability to bring life to what never had one in the first place. Revival, resurrection, immortality and birth sure but it always starts off from the living or what had once lived. But for the toy...

"And what if you suddenly have the power to bring me to life? Isn't me being here proof enough to you?" Mr. Bun Bun suggested and Sunday frowned, narrowly hitting a bridge as he flew under the bridge.

"When... did you start living? What happened when you got to life?" Sunday asked, changing subject with his own set of questions.

"Just recently," Mr. Bun Bun pondered, following along with Sunday's questions no matter how redundant they may be if both knew regardless, "You didn't summon us merry band like before, but I felt that you and Robin were in distressed. I didn't want either of you to be unhappy and I know that it caused you a lot of grief Sunday, so I just knew... that I couldn't let your sweet dreams turn sour. Even if you think it's for your and Robin's own good."

"And what makes you think you know so much of me? Are you really saying that you are living to just fulfill a purpose about me that you have conjured up?" Sunday asked, quite disbelieving of such a reason.

"I am hearing stubborn denial once more, Sunday," Mr. Bun Bun said sadly, "Why won't I know so much of you when you love to confide to the merry band a lot? How can you say that my purpose was conjured up when it is your purpose that I am helping you fulfill?"

The lullabies had always been more than enough, a bittersweet reminder of their mother that reminded them of a past but resolved themselves to the future. The nightmares would vanish in the lull of a gentle past and a hopeful future, warmed further on the coldest nights in the fluffy comfort of the stuffed toys that surrounded the children.

And yet, in waking reality lullabies will not help them escape into a dream when focused on present moments. Young, new and only having themselves at the time in their adopted world, they found other uses to their stuffed companions, in the simple childish idea of imaginary friends, of a dream where their companions were as alive as them to listen to woes and be there...

Sister and brother had both confided. When the sister left for freedom and the brother had grown up to pack away the toys back from childhood memories, even then in the adult world, the unwanted childish part of him came back, and even summoned those toys in a grand play of puppetry, something unchangable even back in the childhood days.

To be reminded, to feel how much he had grown, to remincse, to be comforted and reassured even without his sister by his side during the weakest of times.

When he was a kid...

"Let's aim for the paradise with so many stars of happiness for everyone!"

When he was growing up, summoning them...

"I wonder why you always keep coming back to me in particular, when I try summoning and controlling. Is it that you missed me? Do you want to help me with my sister's latest concert? But don't tell her, 'coz it's a secret~"

Even when he knows they will never respond, when spoken word was enough to give him courage for the remaining days on end. When he simply needed a listener, instead of being the listener himself...

"I must always act prim and proper and yet I can never seem to get rid of you. Then again, I don't think my sister would want to get rid of you. Me neither. Don't you remember the concert we first ever had with Robin? Life was simpler at that time, huh?"

How did he always come back to a stuffed toy in the darkest of nights, at his bed with olden toys never gotten rid of, unknown to many others to keep up the hard facade that an Oak Family Head must assume, what the Dreammaster expects lest be eaten by the world. But even then...

"When did dreaming become so hard? Why couldn't it have been as simple long ago? Or was I deluding myself? Hey, if you were in my shoes... if you could help me, if... imaginary friends were made real... what would you have done?"

"... How do you find living?" Sunday asked, changing the subject as he was unsure what to think. Unsure whether any conclusions he could reach out to the birth of the rabbit were something he wanted to touch upon at this very moment. Yet, he couldn't answer the bunny's rhetoric question, couldn't deny them as it stood. He thought back to the birth of the bunny, of a power that could actually animate it to life, to be so intimate with him at this very moment.

The only power Sunday would possess would be Harmony and Order, and if it was somehow enough to animate a toy, give it life that connected to Sunday himself...

"I would like living a lot more, if I wasn't scared of dying," Mr. Bun Bun said flatly as Sunday made a sharp turn.

"What a natural reaction," Sunday said, "What do you want to do?"

"Making sure you don't do anything stupid," Mr. Bun Bun answered easily, "I worry for you."

"You really do care about me," Sunday remarked.

"Why not? We went through a lot together," Mr. Bun Bun said.

If you counted childhood adventures, a merry band and being summoned as puppets to be conducted for Sunday's bidding, then sure.

Even so, he was nowhere close to confirming the plush bunny's origins to life or why this was happening, period. Even if this was his own doing, that he somehow gave life to the bunny with the connection they had, he felt like this was something that he could not take away. But he never anticipated this nor the bunny's insubordination especially in reaching out to Robin, even with worry that something might spill and Robin would be inclined to do something reckless... He really rather not that, but for why this might be happening, to understand it...

"Maybe, just maybe... this is from the script," Sunday quietly tried to convince himself, but for one that had throughly read the script to the point of memorization, it was a false hope that shouldn't even need a double take.

From the poem to the scripts he had in hand now when 'settling' the Stellaron Hunter life, there will always be a pre-destined end and the choices and circumstances that would lead to such but whatever other choices that do not pertain, for other pre-destined endings that did not catch the Slave's eyes, they were... unknown. He was left in the dark on things he would rather know, on the account of... infinite possibilities. Truly resigned to fate and yet more free to live through them, reaching out a pre-destined end but also encountering unexpected ends that gives new beginnings throughout a fortuitous journey that revealed much beyond the script he had in hand.

"Even more stubborn denial, Sunday," Mr. Bun Bun finally said, "But I know you don't believe what happened with us something to do with Destiny's Slave. Or maybe eventually, this will reach Destiny's Slave script, because who knows why they recruited you?"

Sunday had thought about it from time to time, but from being out here and trying to fulfill dreams and wishes, he hadn't really looked a gift at a horse's mouth, or maybe cat's claws? At the very least, Mr. Bun Bun was expressing doubts that Sunday had been harbouring all this time when he calls out Sunday and asked questions that he had thought but pushed back to simply complete the mission. Was such a thing because of their special connection?

"Is there a point you like to make, or is there anything else you want me to realize before I reach my destination?" Sunday asked.

"You really don't miss a beat, do you? You also not delving further anymore about how I came to be either, huh? Fair enough, when you are busy with other things. Eventually, we will figure out our dynamic in this world and make peace with it. I just want to know, are you feeling alright?"

"... I did not just hear a plush bunny trying to become my therapist by asking a question that will undoubtedly lead to the talk. Not now, when I could reach my destination at any moment and would need total focus," Sunday said flatly, probably overexaggerating in paranoia of the entire world against him which felt real being a criminal. He knew that was all in his head and there was no use playing the victim, but forgive him if he felt utterly bamboozled by the plush bunny that came to life by his own doing even though he's not exactly sure how.

"Ah well, interpret however you wish," Mr. Bun Bun sighed, "We will talk more one day, but I can see you are very close to the destination you seek, so may we meet again when I heed your call or in our sweet dreams."

"Don't you even think of going back to Robin," Sunday warned when he felt their conversation was nearing an end.

"Worried that I will let out anything that may make her do something reckless?" Mr. Bun Bun figured that out correctly, possibly through their 'special connection', "I think she has more right to be worried about your recklessness than you with her recklessness. With how you follow the script without question, like now when you are driving so recklessly without a care because you believe that following the script won't allow you to die as long as the script has use for you. Your life is more than just that, more than being a puppet to other's whims like this you know?"

And? What's so wrong in sticking to the script? It was easy, following orders and putting himself to crime instead of say, going back to the days when he was arrested and was about to go to trial. It had all happened too fast, and it was still happening too fast but he welcomed the distraction. He welcomed the escape from reality, in performance that threw himself into work instead of the stagnation when he was arrested and confined by the Bloodhounds.

Unhealthy as it was, it stopped the negative flow of depressed and defeated thoughts, giving him hopeful respite for a continuation that should never existed from the expected end, a time up that he inevitably hurtled towards. For some time, he managed to keep the prim and polite facade, in figuring out and dare he say it, testing the Stellaron Hunters to truly understand how their group operates. In such a short time, he still had his reservations but at least he can agree with their different goals, the team simply banded together to help each other realize each and every one of them. So far, Sunday can accept that even when there were lines he would never cross.

He never had the luxury to be picky. His potential end decided to become a beginning and he threw himself to those whims, only hoping everyone's wishes come true. Of course, he could only follow...

But Mr. Bun Bun seemed to disagree. And yet, Sunday only knew what his answer was.

A person with a new beginning, with a defeat as an end and who's life was supposed to be rightfully cut short then and there only to be given a precious yet undeserving second chance, could only say this:

"Unfortunately, I do not dream for more in my life. As long as everyone's wishes come true, the rest... does not matter."

He then unfortunately experienced some turbulence as his starskiff crashed as he was admittedly not focusing as much on the sky with his thought provoking conversation with the bunny. As the bunny jumped in front of Sunday, as if trying to shield the damage that was undoubtedly crashing on Sunday, he knew this was all going according to plan.

Right now, he could feel Mr. Bun Bun's disapproval because he was risking his life for the surety of a script to put on a set for the next act from what people would know as an accident. The last thing he would hear was shock and surprise having crashed where people were. The last thing he would see be a bright and yet unblinding light. And for the first time, he felt a little more at peace ever since the Order conspiracy.

May this set the stage for more wishes, because Sunday could only rush through what is set in store for the very next act:

'I can't wait for you to know more of who you are. You always had so much questions and respectfully do not seek answers, but the answers will come with you in time and understanding. Among the questions were, why did the criminal deserve the second chance? What can the criminal do to be recruited for a hand in weaving destiny? This will be but your first step, when you throw yourself into darkness for a fated meeting that will open up new paths for yourself and many others. Do try to figure him out and deal him in for the upcoming inevitable. You will understand when you see it~'

***

For Sunday, dreaming was a luxury he rarely afforded. He never dreamt much, long over it after childhood. And yet that was because he spent every sleeping moment within a dream that was but an extension to the waking world when he spend days at reality and nights at Dreamscape.

And yet, when he does dream, it was only through childhoods once lived and rarely a what-if that he yearned. In dreams, Sunday was sure to experience memories when he found himself once more in child form, awaiting the familiar figure of his sister that usually accompanies him within those dreams as they have done much together.

But then Sunday noticed abnormalities within the dream, because first of all, he was lucid. Never was he ever in control of his dreams, simply reliving them until he woken up for them to drip away back to his subconscious. And yet, Sunday could currently think, remember the past and present and what led him to blacking out. He could feel more strongly in th dream, able to think and not go with the flow, aware of everything happening around him.

Second of all, the place was completely unfamiliar to him with a lush forest and clearing that did not resound with his childhood to adulthood. Something he knew his subconscious cannot come up, especially this vividly if he didn't have anything to refer this place to.

For the young Sunday, who had looked around, he briefly wondered whether this was reality instead of a dream but the forest was not from the Xianzhou, that much he could tell. There was another assumption to death, and that he was in some weird afterlife but Sunday was confident, despite the oddities he was now experiencing, that he was surely in a dream. Of unknown origins.

'Are these the new opening paths the script described?' Sunday thought, deciding that it was no use to stick around for now, 'Then where is the fated person I am supposed to meet?'

"A fated person to meet? What's... that supposed to mean? How would I approach this? He's approaching 'me' and there's a devil right behind him. So I have to save him."

'Wait what?' Sunday thought, because he was alone in this vast dream and yet heard a voice out of nowhere, with quite disturbing content as he spun around behind him to see...

The rustling trees giving way to a creature most foul. Sunday could not describe the grostequeness and he had seen all forms of life within Penacony, even the evil and tyrannical who had stowawayed into the Planet of Festivities with the hopes of utter destruction but none of the creatures he had ever met could aptly describe the humanoid who had rushed towards him in madness.

So stunned he was, Sunday stayed rooted in place before someone screamed, "Move away!"

His next action had already been decided for Sunday, when he felt a tug away from the abomination that he had heeded, unfrozen in place and moving backward by the gentle pull he cannot discern before someone ran by past him. A swish, a cry and a blinding light (familiar light) preluded the abomination on the ground, heaving and bloodless before he turned around to meet his saviour.

His saviour was a young boy similar to Sunday's current dream age. Blonde haired with an outfit not unlike Sunday's Bronze Melodia days signifying the boy to most likely be part of a religion, the boy's light green eyes met Sunday's gold ones with worry and concern although he did not miss the surprise when the green eyes took in the halo and wings as if he had never met a Halovian in his life.

"Things haven't settled into insanity yet. I can't really let this angel run around, but where did he come from? Has God finally send a messenger to help us from our plight? Have the priests preaching the miracles through trials and tribulations been right all along?"

"Are you alright?" The blonde boy asked, even when Sunday took glances at the aomination, as still as the dead before looking back at the boy who was weaponless to deal with such a blow. Even in a dream, the eccentricity and unpredictability of the events left him reeling.

"I'm... I'm fine," Sunday said, appropriately in shock with the back of his mind and yet another tug that compelled him to answer as such (something he made note of to figure out later even when ironically, it felt like a non-issue), "What... was that?"

"A devil," the blonde boy sighed, smiling wryly at Sunday's shock, "It really must be surprising, but unfortunately they are real sir angel. There's only a single countermeasure against these type of things, with the artifact Abyss Flower, as decreed by the church."

He swung around a cross necklace wrapped around his hand that glowed a soothing light that felt healing to Sunday and yet looked like it burned the dead devil. The moment he heard that necklace's name and truly took in the features did Sunday realize who exactly he was talking to, and he did his best suppresing his shock.

The young boy would later grow up, escaping from the planet that had an unprecedented disaster and become a merchant with excellent medical skills. The merchant would later go to the Xianzhou Luofu with a coffin, smuggle the Stellaron and be imprisoned to be sent to trial at Xuling until the Luofu General detoured them to Yuque.

The merchant went by a fair few names, but his Xianzhou name is Luocha.

After dealing with Aventurine, Sunday had been tasked to seek out the merchant detailed out by the script through an unfortunate starskiff crash, an accident that will unsettle the crashed transport housing Luocha and conviniently drop Sunday to his lap. As a healer, Sunday presumed, Luocha might not be able to leave an injured man unattended and help heal him with his excellent medical skills, enough so that Sunday would awake to him and start off a fated meeting without any other intervention.

At least, that was what Sunday thought would happen when he unfortunately crashed that starskiff but fate wanted them to meet in a different way altogether, as children in a dream. Sunday was even doubtful whether Luocha would even remember this when they both wake up. Sunday thought back to the script and his current mission...

Unlike for Sunday, the Stellaron Hunters do not plan to recruit Luocha, or Jingliu for that matter who was the partner in crime for the man and promptly distracted along with other guards by Blade since Elio wanted Sunday to 'figure out Luocha, and Luocha alone'. But their goals, and the actions they took preceeding it, apparently intrigued Elio enough to bring both Blade and Sunday into the mix for... interesting information and reassurances.

'Try to figure and deal with him for the upcoming inevitable indeed,' Sunday thought, but realizing the person before him did not change his confusion to how and why he was meeting Luocha like this. The dream itself was a strange point in the first place, with that unknown voice and unknown tug so similar to strings.

'Too many unexpected things have happened,' Sunday thought with an internal sigh, 'First Mr. Bun Bun and now this dream. But I feel this is more because of me than any other circumstance, and that the script has an inkling but ask me to figure out for myself.'

Well, Sunday never had the luxury of choice, with the unknown in front of him and had to figure out how to proceed.

"... Did you just call me an angel?" Sunday now asked, trying to compartmentalize the information and see to its use once he woke up, if he would ever remember this dream. But Sunday was fairly confident that he would. 

"What else am I suppose to call you?" Luocha asked, tone acting more deferential, "The halo and those wings, can't you be anything else but an angel. The church would be pleased to meet you."

Again, about a church. Considering Sunday was called an angel, it seems Luocha is unaware of the Halovian species that may not exist in this planet without any space travel to acquire such knowledge around this time. A dream of a past not his own...

"Please call me Sunday," Sunday introduced himself unsure what to do but go with the flow, "And what am I supposed to call you?"

"Oh, I'm..." Luocha started, about to give a name before nothing came out and the boy was unaware of this. Sunday tried to stop the frown coming to his mouth, as the thought came unforbidden:

'Did... did the dream redact his name?'

This might as well be a dream alright.

"With introductions out of the way, you should come with me. Who knows how many devils are going to come?" Luocha asked, reaching out his hand towards Sunday.

Once again, the choice was made for him, almost instinctually that Sunday almost didn't realized he felt the same tug or nudge that had caused him to run away from the abomination as his own hand reached towards Luocha's...

And phased through, before briefly the forest flickered and Luocha almost disappeared.

"I have met an angel but wait, that's not really an angel, right? What did she call them? Halovians? My first time meeting them... and then what happened next next? The devils still grow strong even as the years passed by and once upon a time, the church had wished that an angel from our God would come by to save us and I wonder, if Halovians were like angels..."

'That voice again? I can hear it but they seem to be talking to themselves. What is happening?'

Stumbling about, Sunday blinked once before he found himself at a church looking a few years older than his previous encounter with the young Luocha by the reflections from the windows he found himself staring at. The scenery changed as eccentric, unpredictable and curiously as ever.

"Excuse me, I'm sorry but the church is closed for the day. If you... oh-"

"Huh, what's wrong, Great Healer? Huh, is that a Halovian? I had no idea they live in your planet as well~"

"Halo... Halovian? I have no idea what that is. Maybe they are an alien just like you."

"How rude. Just because your planet hasn't been introduced to space travel yet doesn't mean that everyone from the galaxies are aliens. Oh, we have been ignoring you for a while now. Sorry about that, but what's a Halovian like you doing here?"

His newfound situation did not give Sunday any reprieve as he was immediately spotted and talked to by Luocha, a young teenager going by the years of the growth spurt in his height and longer blonde hair accompanied with a white haired girl in a braid of similar age. It was the girl that had pointed him out as a Halovian and inquired about why he was here. Personally, Sunday would like to know it himself and with limited knowledge can only act as such.

"How will he respond? As an amnesiac? And then what will 'we' do? It hasn't been so long since aliens once again descended and the priests have been suspect. We were supposed to sneak in so we never expected this unknown visitor..."

"I... I have no idea. Where am I?" Sunday asked, affecting the confusion he actually feel about the circumstances and the idea of amnesiac that seemed planted into his mind by that voice which felt like an agreeable suggestion that he allowed himself to follow along.  

"How do I deal with this unknown visitor? Why is he here all of a sudden? Would it have made any difference, if he was here... or not?"

Whatever that voice was, Sunday himself could not answer because he was still grasping what was going on, feeling ironically like a puppet that Mr. Bun Bun themselves did not want him to be. And yet in this situation, it was a welcoming whim he did not mind and yet the logical part of his brain sought out the reason why. He cursed himself for not expecting this dreamlike situation, unsure how to proceed and furiously thought back to the script, whether there were any lines about this situation that he was unaware of until he was experiencing it now.

And then, it clicked.

'Criminals fatefully meet, laying themselves bare to when they were not. Without warning yet with unknown guidance of a power never theirs seized a time ago finally realised, pasts and what-ifs had been waved around and a criminal would finally put the pieces together.'

OK, how was Sunday, back then, supposed to know that part of the script meant something like this, in this dreamlike state? But wasn't that the point of such vague scripts foretelling the future with so many unknowns that would not even make sense until time allowed him to actually experience and understand himself?

'Unknown guidance of a power never theirs seized a time ago... For a long time, I only had  the power of Harmony and Order but this... this is new. Unless, Ena's dream? It's still different... and yet...'

Sunday  remembered the weird voice somehow at least reacting to his thoughts, and how he had led people through Ena's dream. This was a similar variant and it was not like he could just sit around trying to fumble through a conversation. So there was one simple solution to this, helping him figure out Luocha while avoiding unnecessary parts such as this fumbling conversation.

He was after all a lucid dreamer in someone else's dream so why can't he push Luocha's subconscious to flow through this dream into an ending that even Sunday could understand. A summary that didn't have him making any false plays to abruptly disturb the scene until they would eventually wake up.

It was insanity and yet an instinct, that Sunday was weirdly confident in. He had not felt as such since his ascension and he chose to pour it out in his thoughts, when seeing what suggestion would do in this precarious dream:

'You want to sneak in, don't you? So what are you waiting for? Sneak in, let me help if you must. Even an unknown visitor, do you even have time to play with an amnesiac. Why not leave me, and go forth on your journey before it's too late?'

"Your... right. Even when... the young angel is a curious  thing, if I... if we don't make it in time, we... we..."

Before Luocha could even answer, the scene shifted and Sunday sharpened his awareness as not to get caught by the changes, and found himself deliberately behind a tunnel leading to an underground lair, beautiful with its stone pews, lush greenery and even a coffin oh so similar to  the one he knows Luocha owns. Was this where it originated from?

Sunday then noticed the burning greenery, the destroyed pews and then bloodstained marks oh so suddenly. Coming to his vision had been the white haired girl he once met kneeling to the ground and crying out for her father, the young Luocha swaying the Abyss Flower at the coffin and also a priest that seemed to be arguing with the both of them.

"We didn't make it in time, but I am sure that curious angel... Halovian that I have met, the one oh so curious might change things. For a dream I could have, than a reality that I live in..."

The strings tugged and while Sunday would really have no business to intervene in such a situation, dreams existed for a reason he reminded himself. Unlike reality, dreams were a what-if for a happy ending they might not have gotten, an escape from the terrible and evil they rather not have. 

'If it's a sweet dream that you want... let me bestow it upon you.'

This was more familiar ground for Sunday, even in a story not his own because how many times in Penacony, the Planet of Festivities, a dream world itself, that he had to accomodate for people's own dreams and made sure it suited their needs? This was almost similar to when he had put people to Ena's dream although he knew this situation was nothing like Ena's. He couldn't recognize these circumstances with the power of Xipe either.

"Then who's power is in play for this shared dream?" Sunday asked quietly to himself, oh so familiar and confusing at the same time. He wondered whether Elio had known and let him experience himself, as a future possibility infinite as the stars and yet that can wait, when his present situation forced him to play along. To experiment, to understand, to emphatize.

Because whatever the dream was, real from the past or fake from a fantastical adventure, the story was nevertheless moving Sunday to action that the strings, one he could speculate coming from that unknown voice... from Luocha, maybe, guiding him to a set of actions as a potential lucid dreamer himself to dictate actions he want for this dream for the adventure they truly desire.

"Then, I don't want this to happen. Go back... to when we should have figured out their motives earlier, where I could have protected her sooner, where I could have saved him sooner. And just maybe..." 

The dream flickered and Sunday was quite literally thrusted through many scenes, fickle as a dream itself and jumping all over the place from meeting that white-haired girl from a young age, fighting many devils and getting overwhelmed until a white haired rugged man potentially the white haired girl's father coming to the rescue. The dream briefly touched back to the young boy and girl exploring underground until reaching the scene about the coffin. Then, Sunday saw Luocha thrusting the Abyss Flower towards the coffin and priest until a blinding light seared Sunday into perpetual darkness.

Throughout it all, Sunday had observed and as if he was connected with Luocha as the lucid dreamer, he was allowed to know the feelings coursing through the man throughout the tumultous events. Wonder, happiness, anger, guilt, regret, remorse, betrayal, resolve and-

"But that's all impossible, because it's just a daydream after all. To save everything at once, and I'm now left nothing but a promise... and a mission."

Sunday found himself in a sea of white flowers, as the blonde man of current age in reality ran through his hand with the Abyss Flower on the coffin's surface, looking at everywhere and nowhere. With a realization, Sunday was aware that Luocha and that voice did not realize he could hear him. Sunday connecting Luocha through a daydream, how does that even work...?

Is it because it was a dream regardless? When did Sunday presume such power over dreams? How did it come to him so naturally? Was it because of his own wish, for everyone's wishes and dreams to come true? For a paradise of their dreams? 

He had looked on at Luocha and the coffin, even when the daydream was edging closer to a black even with a faint glowing light beckoning him. Back to reality?

There was still so much that he was unsure, that he did not know, but at least whatever Destiny's Slave wanted with this man, he might be able to reach an understanding through empathy, with motives seemingly unearthed and an origin that might explain powers intriguing Elio? Sunday was unsure, being thrusted without much information before hand but he had to take it for what it was.

'Even still, may all wishes come true. Let this Halovian help you.'

A simple suggestion, nothing more. An appeal, for an open-minded conversation. A test, to see whether he had gotten this right. After all, a suggestion to the subconscious might lead to an instinctual action favouring him. As the darkness started taking Sunday over, his last vision was Luocha getting up from the coffin and walking towards the darkness as well.

Without, even once, looking back.  And the strings never once pursued.

***

Luocha did not expect a crashing starskiff to be part of the agenda on his day, let alone a Halovian rare as they were especially one with wings on their neck falling right on his lap clearly unconscious. There had been fewer of such species ever since some Stellaron disasters invaded their planets and there were only but Halovians in certain planets such as Penacony only with their halos on head but rarely with any wings that accentuate their angelic appearance.

As a merchant, he had kept up with news right up until his subsequent arrest that he was still going through with the trial needing much preparation through bureaucracy and diversions where until then, he was met with many authorities trying to figure out motives and arrange such before being transported once more for another tactic to throughly wring the criminal dry. Regardless, his information might be slightly outdated but as long as there were no major changes he could not foresee, the person lying on his lap was the Oak Family Head, known to lead the Family after the Dreamaster in Penacony. 

What an influential person was doing in the Xianzhou and getting himself into a starskiff crash was beyond Luocha but an injured person falling straight to his lap insinctually made Luocha catch the man, settling him to his lap before the necklace in hand left a dim glow upon the man in hopes of healing whatever injuries sustained and then waking up to explain himself.

The crash was worse on the transport ship Luocha was in than first thought, with the starskiff dislodging falling debris that actually fell upon them. In trying to sheild his newfound and unexpected patient, debris managed to hit him on the head causing a probable concussion when he blanked out for a second as he tried to remind himself where he was. Setting his sight to the sleeping Oak Family Head's face, he focused on the task of healing not only on him but to himself to make sure being hit didn't leave anything worse for wear.

When trying to orient himself, the loss of conscious however faintly seem to thrust him into a nonsensical daydream, of a meaningless past and what could have been changed. Maybe it was because of the man on his lap but he also made an appearance from a child version to his current age with the faint idea about an angel that his homeworld would like to revere considering the church that had once thrived and once burned down to the ground. 

Luocha gathered enough consciousness to feel weird about such an unexpected dream, before looking back to the Halovian who had yet to move an inch in such peaceful sleep. It was a sensation that he experienced for the first time, a feat unimaginable for a merchant who had explored much of the galaxy and experienced much.

'He can help me with my wishes...'

It was a thought that came all too suddenly, unknowingly and yet felt right even when the Oak Family Head was starting to stir beyond him opening up yellow eyes staring right into his own green ones.

Luocha knew better than to be fooled. At that span of the moment, with a brief loss of consciousness and a dream, something happened. He knew that the Oak Family Head is well-versed in the Harmony but the power exuding from him... screamed a potential Luocha dared not imagine. Just like how easily he could tell a Nameless friend at the Astral Express harboured a Stellaron, he had an inkling about a great, new power bordering on said potential that made Luocha realized he indeed missed much during his arrest and subsequent imprisonment.

'Does he even realize that for himself? Does he know who I am? Is crashing here and meeting him more than simple coincidence?'

Those thoughts firmly came from his consciousness rather than the subconscious thought he previously had, knowing he had to get to the bottom of it lest he wanted to make his own life more complicated than it has to be. In the middle of a gambit and obstacles, the Halovian before him could prove himself to be an ally, nuisance or enemy.

"Ah, what happened?" the Halovian asked, as he stared around unable to hide the surprise and shock of the mess that happened around the transport ship from him crashing the starskiff.

"That's what I would like to know... Mr. Sunday, isn't it?" Luocha asked, amused at Sunday's eyes widening at him knowing the name, "Is it really surprising that I know who you are, Mr. Sunday? Brother to a well-renowned singer and a leader of the Planet of Festivities where many merchants such as myself would like to do business. I wished we could meet in more fortunate circumstances."

"Indeed," Sunday replied before realizing that he was lying on Luocha's lap and then got up in a fluster, "Forgive me."

Luocha laughed lightly at the slight embarassment Sunday had for simply sleeping on someone's lap. It was quite upright of the man before him, and Luocha waved off the apology easily.

"It's fine," Luocha said, as he sened that the conversation might not go anywhere that either men would prefer if they continue to dawdle with pleasantries but he also knew that one would have to make a move, in an unexpected stalemate for both men who are at a loss of what they want from each other.

It was indeed a fortuitous meeting, and despite the circumstances as they are, he would like to see where this would go. 

Chapter Text

Robin had been satisfied with her small trip of 'self-reflection' and 'behind the scenes'. She wished that she could have talked to Sunday more but just meeting once more thanks to Mr. Bun Bun for a 'simple' chat they deserved just had to be enough.

She had also ignored any warnings issued by Sunday himself, after what could be considered a reckless stunt. But what exactly did Robin have to regret?

The fact that they were always connected, be it a boon from Xipe or something else, meant that he was never lost to her. That meant she had to make sure they could continue such connection.

She also technically had Sunday's phone number, from the time they made a connection during the Charmony Festival at the Penacony Grand Theater to establish contact, even though he won't answer. Still, Robin texted hoping he sees the message. Hoping that he would give this a chance...

And that she would keep trying until he truly responds, as himself.

Robin: Brother, whatever you are doing, I hope you are doing well. I just wanted to let you know, that other than stepping out of Penacony's spotlight for the time, I have also decided to take on a self-journey out of the spotlight. Thanks to what happened at Penacony and my own decisions, I have cancelled all my idol activities with the hopes to choose my own audience and write my own songs just for me and not my fans. Hopefully, we will cross paths beneath the sun or on stolen nights to wherever our journey takes us. And no matter what, we can just be that brother and sister once more.

Unsurprisingly, that message had not been read the moment she sent it. Even within the few minutes it takes someone to hear or feel the phone ping a notification and at least leave it on read. Yet, Robin remained optimistic. As long as they were alive, they would see each other again. There was no reason not to.

'Brother must be busy then. ... I hope he doesn't get into too much trouble.'

***

To a sister's sentiment, the brother's current predicament was as she predicted, business with a task at hand. As for not getting into too much trouble, Sunday cannot make any promises with the person before him.

'He doesn't know about what happened in Penacony, that I am a wanted criminal now. He seems more curious as to why I am here.'

Not like he could reveal the whole truth for such curiosity, when the script never specified for such without an idea how Luocha would react to Sunday's newfound criminality even when the man was a criminal himself. what he could only do was finish his objective, which was... what was it that the script wanted to establish anyway?

'Do try to figure him out and deal him in for the upcoming inevitable... wasn't it?'

Sunday did figure Luocha out to a certain extent, the backstory that spelled out an origin few were left in the dark of, padding out the circumstances and the forthcoming actions in the Xianzhou. Originating from the Abundance with a mission, having seen how the church undoubtedly worshipping the Abundance doing dastardly deeds and unforgivable sins opening the young blonde's eyes to Abundance's unfortunate evil that he now wished to erase the Abundance completely.

The story weaves and Sunday admitted that he didn't have all the pieces nor that it would be possible to know the entirety of an individual but it was enough to get an edge on further figuring out Luocha, and possibly 'deal him in for the upcoming inevitable'.

Whatever that means, because Sunday was clueless to the Stellaron Hunter's agenda with their 'upcoming inevitables' or 'destiny', as he was understandably tested through until Destiny's Slave could truly trust him with such information. The only thing he was reassured of was that his actions would benefit his promise, his ambition, no matter how much of a detour they seem.

Sincerely, he wasn't sure how much a person eager to kill an Aeon with the slightest possibility to accomplish it could help them. It seemed a journey of self, with allies aligning for the same goals can partake. And Sunday was unsure enough about what could be considered the Stellaron Hunters' enemies or end goals to be wary of jumping ship easily. Although a potential war between Aeons with Pathstriders of their own agenda to aid or kill said Aeons seem to be on the table as an end of days being an upcoming inevitable, can he be sure this was what Destiny's Slave would gun for?

In all honesty, why did Elio leave this to Sunday, of all people? What did Elio want Sunday to know from this mission that he had yet to make heads or tails of? Fated meeting as Elio wanted to describe it as and even with empathizing with Luocha's circumstances as he did for plenty of people, Sunday didn't feel any connection towards Luocha other than a person he simply met on-script with a mission in mind that he was still puzzling out from a professional standpoint.

From a personal standpoint, Luocha didn't strike him out as different as any other person with their own variation of troubles and futile struggles to the universe even when Sunday will admit Luocha's predicament against the Aeon of Abundance was of larger scale than the simple tales he heard as Bronze Melodia about doing a master disservice of spilling food on them that he ocassionaly hears in a past that was no longer his present. 

But Sunday knew possibilities shouldn't be taken so lightly and thus found himself going through the flow just to see where and how this will go. That was what he had done so far for the unfamiliar and it was a tactic that had yet to fail him so it was the only avenue he could take.

So far, they had only engaged in simple small talk when Sunday awoken and the conversation almost pettered out when it seemed that neither knew what to say in this strange circumstances. Even if it was circumstances that Sunday imposed upon them through the means of script.

Sunday could sense a stalemate happening, and knew he had to progress. Flipping through the script in his mind, he should be aware of the deadline of how long the guards can be stalled and how he should escape from this predicament afterwards lest his own journey ends here.

'Once you have woken up, you will only have 10 minutes to hear him out and say your piece. Whether you will walk it out shaking hands, finding a new purpose, in utter confusion or against each other throats depends on what's deep down and in so many possiblities, only one fate can emerge and you will finally accept your true self.'

"Who are you, and where are we?" Sunday asked, as if he didn't know any of such in the beginning. It was better to get introductions out of the way and get on even ground with each other. The rest of it, he had to be quick and he had to understand...

"I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Luocha, just a travelling merchant. Luocha being my Xianzhou name because the name I am under the IPC is hard to pronounce in the ship. As for where we are, you unfortunately crashed into this... transport ship. It will not be long before the... authorities come and inquire about what happened."

Sunday looked sheepish for what happened because while he did intentionally crash the starskiff, he really did want to compensate for damages. Since Silver Wolf had said how degrading it was to just leave money on the by for his crimes and it was not like he could pay reimbursement like an upright civilian would usually do in situations like this because the authorities would rather arrest Sunday the criminal than just quickly go over the accident and settle the matter by Sunday the once-civilian.

He will eventually find a way to pay for the property damage he caused. Maybe the script was a way to ease him into such dangerous criminal life while he wanted to build life anew, even when he should be aware his criminal aspect would no longer give him any chance to savour the civilian life he once had without looking warily around for people to break such a fragile facade for his criminal persona people unfortunately care more about.

He really had to adapt.

"For that reason alone, I want to ask something before any interruptions," Luocha continued, "I noticed that there is a certain... ascension to you, of a higher power than Pathstriders normally have to the point of an Emanator and even more. I find this quite curious. Was something done that gave you such newfound powers?"

Sunday's mind flashed back to an ascension that didn't even happen too long ago, that should not have made waves worldwide when the Family and even the IPC in the know agreed to release a fake story about a 'Stellaron incident' that did not involve, well... the downfall of the Oak family and thus without anyone knowing about Sunday's own downfall.

A higher power than Pathstriders, being an Emanator and more. Frankly, Sunday was sure that was 'impossible'. He was neither Emanator of Order or Harmony, with the former of an Aeon absorbed into the Harmony and thus unable to give even a fleeting glance to acknowledge anyone in this universe as an Emanator even when Gopher Wood called him and Robin as twins of Order. Sunday thought that was more towards the hopes they have potential within the Order than anything else, since Robin was truly a follower of the Harmony instead of what the Dreamaster would rather want her to be.

As for the latter with the Harmony, with the idealism of equality, that one was a tricky business with anyone summoning any of the Harmonic Strings having the power of an Emanator but not necessarily an Emanator themselves. Sunday himself had no such powers.

Still, Luocha did mention an ascension and it was possible that despite his defeat, a lingering power would remain. And yet Sunday 'never' conceived the notion that he would still hold, what? A remnant of godhood?

The Nameless fought hard, black holes and ice. Spear and fire. Hat and... song all around but Sunday could not feel it deep within the Emanator. Strung along, the voices kept going on and more had joined the fray and Sunday wondered whether this was what the Dreamaster truly wanted, what the Order truly wanted but it was a worthless thought in the midst of battle.

A vessel should remain thoughtless, only aware of all and yet unaware much of himself as wishes were made realized and the objective was completed. Throughout the fight, still his self in direction and yet following every puppet to continue the duel with those who gazed at the sun...

The battle reached a climax in the discordant songs, one overpowering the other and Sunday can sense... futility but merely a vessel for the many wishes, souls and gods, a self-directed farce that would topple the more people have woken up and yet, he can still hear so many, see so much and wonder whether this is what THEY had felt, been subjected to.

'See the stars, the explosions, the nothingness and the light, glaring and never gentle. See the planets, the people, the creation and destruction, the light and darkness, the beginning and the end. What does it mean to be human, what does it mean to evolve, what does it mean to go beyond, what does it mean to carry the wishes, be fueled and grasp the impossible. When the impossible turns to a desired paradise but when one knows all, what does such paradise mean, when they would only meet an end. But the end can also begin and yet what cycle will they fall through. What paradise should be sought after. What-'

He had thought of so much, seen and heard what the sun had seen but that was why he could say what he needed to next:

"If your 'paradise' can save more people, sever my path with your own hands."

Seven lines had been recited while they continuously attacked him, pleading... wanting. The 'Emanator' reached out, and felt THEIR hand but what about Sunday, who was deep in such a shell, only basking in childhood memories that kept flowing, among many wishes out there in the stars. What was it to be reaching the sun, to where THEY reside, where THEY can know so much beyond human measure and to see what 'paradise' was and what happens if the vessel feels all to fuel a dream, that they become more than human, that they are alone and were granted the power-

And yet, the power was overwhelmed by the Nameless, with many wishes ever changing and being saved by their 'paradise' until Sunday was left. With nothing but himself, truly severed.

... Or was it? He didn't acknowledge it, prideful with the idea of a human paradise being made by humans but falling to the hypocrisy of being a follower of an Aeon with their ideals used to construct such paradise, calling upon an Emanator of another for the power and being a vessel of both, with the wishes of so many as not just the Oak Family but the dreamers who remained satisfied...

That to become the sun, one must shine brightly and gain fire. Enough to fuel and burn, so much that the paradise he sought out could no longer be said to be made by humans if it had come to pass. That he flew so close to the sun and grasp unimaginable power that once, he could be the sun. And how could a human arrogantly deem themselves to be the sun, even if it meant protecting the humanity of someone else that shouldn't shoulder such burden?

And even when the night was too short, why couldn't he go back another night? To fly to the sun at dawn, and become more? Because what he had been made for, he still inevitably had. Because even when the sun, a star itself, dies, it would still burn, shine and give light as if it still existed for everyone regardless.

Sunday steadily looked back at Luocha, remembering a moment of godhood and the need to be left with nothing in defeat. Of a naive thought to lose it all when he had deserved as such. Sunday had been denying it because he was sure that neither Aeon would favour a Pathstrider that THEY have left in defeat. And yet, why deny his 'true self' any longer?

The only problem was he could still never truly define what he had gained, what being the sun could have meant. What did it mean to have ascension? A potential? A remnant of godhood? Or was that arrogant delusion?

"Isn't that arrogant delusion?" Sunday finally asked, "To have ascension, to potentially be more than an Emanator? I certainly do not think I possess such power."

"I am humble enough to admit if I am mistaken," Luocha said, eyes still locked on Sunday in intrigue, "But I feel experience does not lie. I am also assured that you are smart enough to understand that ascension is not exactly an arrogant delusion. Since the beginning of time itself, Aeons have risen and fallen. How can an Aeon rise if not for evolution and ascension from whatever circumstances that allowed them to create and follow the Path that made the Aeon in a first place?"

"So what are you saying? Noticing the certain ascension and newfound powers, what are you implying about me?" Sunday asked, curious as he wondered whether the person touched by Abundance would answer a question he had fleetingly wondered, of the aftermath when it came to power and understand his comeuppance.

"Nothing at all," Luocha said smoothly, "Just that you have your own potential but it is dependent on you and the potential itself of how it will all manifest."

"How are you so confident in such assumptions?" Sunday asked.

"When you experience as much as I do, as a travelling merchant, the knowledge you accumulate doesn't leave much for confusion," Luocha answered before giving a slight smile, "And you really didn't deny it all. So is it safe to say that you will not deny that it was due to your potential that you have dreamed with me and planted a thought about fulfilling my wishes, will you?"

Sunday was shocked because he felt sure that Luocha would not remember the dream but he was more formidable than he thought, humbling the Halovian.

It would not be the first nor last time he found himself in such circumstances and yet he didn't react to it as much as a wry smile and simply coming clean. In the end, even through what few in the universe especially the Family would consider as villainy on Sunday's part in Penacony, he never had much to hide. He just wouldn't show anything if people don't look for it but now Luocha was looking so Sunday would reveal. As much as what he was seen for.

He was still a person who preferred to hide his cards close to the chest when unecessary risk of openess and honesty might backfire to the enemies in the shadows, often before to dark birds that do not idle in their observations. But what's wrong with being so cautious, and thus Sunday proceeded.

"May I admit that when I crashed and lost consciousness that I had no idea I would be stumbling upon your dream nor would I really implant such a thought to your head. Your dream moved me so I guess my desires leaked out and influenced you, nothing more. If it is as you say part of my potential, then I am simply finding this out myself," Sunday admitted.

"But then, you would know much about me, through a dream. How much would you know about me? Why are you still here?" Luocha asked.

"I know much, up until the contents of your coffin," Sunday answered honestly, still admittedly vague about dreamlike sensations and snippets of thoughts about a life lived through a dream but the story weaved about 'the devils, church and insanity' led to its own sad outcome, "As for why I'm still here, let this humble pathstrider of Harmony- oh."

Sunday got up quickly, dodging tendrils of vines that suddenly aimed at him. When they persisted, he held out his baton and uneasily saw those tendrils coming from a coffin he had just noticed lying next to Luocha. He then looked at Luocha, eyes demanding for the meaning of unwarranted hostility but a wry smile graced his face.   

"Why is that coffin here? Why is it attacking me?" Sunday demanded.

"The General understood that the coffin was imperative  to be brought along for further proceedings and left it to my side. As for attacking you, I guess the contents in my coffin are more careful than myself," Luocha revealed easily, as Sunday frowned when the tendrils had the upper hand from Sunday's unsure and passive demeanour to suddenly let himself be tied down in front of Luocha. 

"Fairly reasonable for a respected figure from the faraway planet of Festivities widely known to rarely ever leave his home planet due to very few family or work related matters to get him out and suddenly off to the Xianzhou, recklessly crashing a starskiff by your lonesome right in a prisoner's arms. Not only that, a respected leader but wholy Halovian, admitting of a hidden ascended power within that infiltrated my mind, finding me out and subtly wanting to grant my wishes with influence to open me up to the idea."

Luocha stood up himself and approached Sunday, "Why shouldn't I return the favour?"

***

"Excuse me?" Sunday asked, and Luocha would be amused about Sunday's confused expression if not for pressing matters concerning the lack of guards rushing to check on the situation and the unwanted guest making small talk, admitting so much and yet remaining wholy unfaze by the situation.

Was it truly ignornace or denial? Either way would point towards stupidity when self-proclaimed (and yet humble fool of a) dabbling Aeon expert understood that Sunday's curiosity and yet nonchalance about his potential was something he could not ignore. Was it the first time he experienced such powers after the incident that triggered them? If it went farther, how far would they extend? What kind of consequences would be unleashed without a care for the masses? 

It was a self-imposed duty and promise for what he was about to do next.

Was it a memory, a delusion or a dream? After he had lost his planet, after he met a stranger once when he was being saved, found the coffin and was entrusted it? A promise to the contents of the coffin, to use and be used. To render himself a fool than who he truly was after the scars of the past.

THEY did not care for mortal plight. THEY were not invulnerable. He was shown that truly, when being used and holding the rapier, a weapon made to fight that he learned a long time ago.  As one with potential for Abundance to fight for long days and short nights. To be raged, to be destroyed, to be defeated but the fool as he was so heckled by did his duty. And drew blood, gold ichor that shows THEIR ascension and separates THEM from them and yet...

THEY had not been born into Aeons but made into THEM, once beings who simply ascended thanks to a Path that they took and with THEIR world only narrowed to that one Path uncaring about anything else. THEY can die, by THEM but other ways if a mere being like him could cut THEIR flesh.

THEY fascinated him, and throughout the seven days and nights, he heard and learned and wondered.

Whether THEY can be more than THEIR paths, if just to avoid the tragedies if a certain THEM that once and may have glanced in his homeworld had understood what it meant to give the people THEIR blessing without thinking of anything else.

But after a battle that would later be deemed an outlandish story to some, a mere hallucination to others and yet all the same enlightening, the fool would think about the differences of them and THEM, and of humanity and godhood and wondered what if a being had both... and how he would like to meet such a person some day, for maybe if THEY were more like that, if THEY cared for mortal plight, then maybe...

But maybes were only for those who want to alleviate their pasts with false hopes that it could have led to a better future when their pasts already led a present they must use for the future that would later be their present. 

A memory, a delusion or a dream when he found himself wrapped up in the coffin's pulsing purple vines. But he would never forget his solemn promise, his duty and what THEY have done. If there comes a time when the birth of THEM becomes his present, then maybe he could be shown a miracle.

If he believed in such things in the first place. 

'A miracle. That would be quite a wish,' Luocha now thought, 'Whether Mr. Sunday would prove himself an asset, a nuisaince or an enemy, he has no sway with what Master Jingliu and I will do now. Our business here will soon be finished one way or another, but what happens next...'

'Will I see him again? What will happen next, if we meet again, I hope that I will have a better upper hand. Even now, the thought of a wish fulfilled appeals me.'

Sunday's planted thought influenced Luocha more than he liked, but in the vast universe, one could only take such things in stride and find a way to reap benefits. So it was time to make reassurances.

A duty, promise and curiosity picked up by the coffin would lead to the following ritual.

The vines with the coffins pulsed purple, as Sunday gritted his teeth even when blood (not ichor) dripped down to the floor. Luocha suddenly heard footsteps, understanding that time was running short and that he would not know about his unexpected guest anymore, but maybe another time. He approached Sunday closer, before taking something out. An unassuming bracelet, a merchandise that he had kept close but would appropriately serve the man before him.

"When we meet again," Luocha simply said as he slid it into his arm with the bracelet tightening itself around, and Sunday's face fell to a completely neutral state that he could not discern nor understand.

"What... favour are you returning? Why do you think we will meet again?" Sunday asked, and if the pain both physical and mental (from the coffin) bothered him, he didn't show.

"You know so much about me, so it is fair that I will know about... my latest client, if you will. Entrusting you with this good here is simply an investment I'm most curious about. Mr. Sunday, I can tell that you are not as well-versed about the Aeons in general to know what might happen to you soon enough. Your potential, ignorance and actions have simply incited me to speed up the process."

Sunday didn't say anything, listening intently and hoping that Luocha would go on, even as the footsteps grew louder. Even when they could be interrupted at any moment, so Luocha would make it short.

"You will figure out the rest on the way, and however you want to manifest your potential, this bracelet will tell. And when the time comes that you realize who you truly are, I am fairly sure that will help us cross paths."

"How mysterious," Sunday said, unruffled but surprisingly understanding despite the ridiculous situation he found himself in. Did he stumble upon an epiphany? Was he expecting this all along? Luocha would never know, because the moment any further comment could be made from either of them, the door that neither men bothered to block off in the ship opened for guards as far as the eye can see, about to do their job concerning an imprisoned inmate.

Suddenly, many things happened in quick succession. The moment the guards kicked the door down, Sunday started to sing. It was without lyrics, a humming melody but it was enough for everything to stop. From the guards with their feet suddenly planted to ground for the coffin to loosen the vines and Luocha to freeze, with eyelids starting to feel heavy.

'Is this the power of Harmony? But it doesn't feel like such? The potential... the possibility...'

Luocha did not hesitate either as he thrusted the Abyss Flower towards Sunday with the gentle light hovering over Sunday and healing the bloodied arms from the coffin but also leaving punctures almost like tattos over his arms. Two bracelets adorned his arms, one that had the bracelet he had given him and the other, a filter perception.

In the background, guards fell down one by one in a trance as he barely saw three toys dancing over them. The bunny's eyes were particularly staring straight into his soul, and he felt something... similar to what he himself was and he felt the potential of what Sunday was all the more real.

He didn't know how, or what, or why because questions such as those to understand held little weight in the decisions of what must be done now to ensure a new deal, a new promise and a new beginning.

'My story does not end with the Xianzhou, after all. The road to Abundance's destruction is a long and winded one. And having something potentially prepared, from the vast universe's whimsies, does not disservice me, or them.'

"Receive... divinity," Luocha said towards Sunday, as the glowing heal washes over Luocha and he would feel the power he had held, the Abundance wash over him, seep into his potential and...

"May you be blessed with sweet dreams," Sunday said, eyes staring straight to Luocha as his body could not keep up and exhaustion all too suddenly washed over him. It was even affecting the coffin, with the vines finally detracting. Before the world blacked out on him, he saw the toys rushed over him. He saw the teddy bear adjusting the filter perception bracelet turning him into a different man. He saw that man leaning toward the toy with halo and the bunny ear directing them all...

He saw the glow in Sunday fester, as his eyes similarly closed and Luocha knew.

Receive divinity indeed.

Later on, Luocha and the guards would wake up without any presence of their unexpeced guest. The guards who were knocked out to sleep had simply thought they fainted out of turbelence and never mentioned an unwanted intruder when making sure that Luocha and his coffin was safely secured.

Luocha could guess memory manipulation, because he did not forget everything that happened.

The necklace swung around, glowing faintly. If he closed his eyes, he would see the dream that Sunday sent him towards, one with him and a white haired girl sitting down on a tree and looking out to an unblemished world that he wished he live instead of what actually happened in the past.

'Are you really that determined to fulfill wishes, Mr. Sunday?'

His eyes closed, he found himself in a daydream and yet an angel never came. Beyond his closed eyelids, only the necklace's glow kept him company.

*** 

'Figure the healer out and deal him in for the upcoming inevitable. Little did the new recruit know that those words were meant for an inevitable nearer than one thought and that the healer would deal himself in, after the healer found out he was being figured out. Godhood is a tricky business after all and it takes expertise to draw a finer line on divinity sooner than later. When the ritual for a sped up trial had finished commencing, he will be deftly rescued by stalwart partners of crimes and sent to where you come in, like a Samaritan stranger doing an everyday good deed.'

When Blade read that part of the script, idling around the alleyways of the Xianzhou, he wondered about the prices people will inevitably pay. The newest recruit was being shown the ropes a lot quicker for someone who was once an upright civilian now turned criminal but as long as he was efficient and does the job well, Blade would have no complaints.

He had looked out for people, carrying the young Halovian to him to be prepared for the next stage of Elio's script, in dealing with the newest recruit and easing him into the new life without much complication. He did not expect that he was supposed to be looking down when he felt a soft tap on his legs and saw Sunday sleeping peacefully on the ground with a teddy bear perching Sunday's head a little upward so not to completely sleep on the ground. There was also a toy with halo carrying one of his legs and the toy bunny that had tapped on his leg.

How did those three toys get Sunday out of the transport ship and right to Blade, who was a ways away from the ship after running interference to give Sunday as much time with his confrontation with Luocha? A curious thought, that came and went after the results before him were denial.

He had his own filter perception and Sunday's had been temporarily turned off so Blade could briefly recognized him. With a grunt, he had hoisted Sunday upward and away from the toys as he fiddled around with both perception filters to play off the good Samaritan and fly away from the Xianzhou. 

And good thing too, because he didn't know how much he could stay here without being haunted by the memories of the past but he was undeniably efficient here with his familarity to the place which was why Blade had been sent to Xianzhou missions lately.

Tch.

"Take good care of him," the toy bunny said and if Blade was surprised that the toy could speak in the first place, he didn't show it on account that weirder things had happened in the universe.

Blade simply grunted, but it was enough for the toys to disappear right in front of him. That didn't bother Blade, when anything beyond his comprehension could be put aside and eventually forgotten for what he truly needed to do.

When he gladly got on board to the ship, with Sunday still asleep so soundly that it was almost like he was dead (which Blade wished that was himself in that situation), Blade looked out the window that showed off the galaxies without conversation partner unlike when he had previously been arriving to the Xianzhou. It left him with his thoughts, about the ironic relief he felt that this mission was incredibly brief even without running into any of the Nameless that he had been informed were in the Xianzhou, where despite the big ship, he could have runned into a certain Nameless...

And Kafka wasn't there, just a new greenhorn of a recruit. So he was appreciative with the script's briefness that he didn't meet much people that could trigger his mara. It made him uneasy, considering the Nameless' presence. Specifically the Astral Express, because he was aware how among the many scripts Destiny's Slave has, Elio had big plans for them.

Blade closed his eyes, ignoring the ethereal eyes he saw out of the darkness or the dragon's roar unless he wanted to lose himself and accidentally destroy a ship. A momentary weakness when his mind went to the Astral Express. He breathed in, before he opened his eyes and observed Sunday's still unmoving body. Blade decided to check Sunday's pulse, once more, to make sure he wasn't dead. 

Because he was sure sleeping soundly.

It reminded him how not only the Nameless but how Elio usually had big plans for plenty people. Blade felt indifferent about Sunday's plight, even when they were working together now as long as it doesn't have much to do with his own promises. Even so, only curiosity and pity could be felt for the Halovian because Blade was informed as much about the trials and tribulations that had been carefully planned and laid out. To ensure that there won't be loose ends regarding the latest recruit.

'Much easier and harder than my own curse. Hmph, at least unlike me, he has a chance.'

Blade closed his eyes once more, onward to sleep when there wasn't much to do or even say at this point. In the darkness, he saw those ethereal eyes and heard a dragon's roar as if such a thing refused to leave his mind once he thought of such but then, he felt a low hum, a song like a lullaby and white feathers...

'Take good care of him...'

'Hey, it's time for us to wish upon the stars.'

Blade opened his eyes, startled once again observing Sunday when he thought he saw the toy bunny once more and then a young brother and sister lying on the grass looking at the stars. Blade didn't sleep afterwards, but a thought flitted through his head:

'It really is time, huh? Don't waste your chance.'

It was a thought that couldn't possibly reach Sunday but a small smile suddenly graced his face. Blade looked away, off to watch the planets and especially the stars go through the window as he wondered once more what fate had in store for people like them.

Chapter Text

**-... The brother rarely dreamed, because ****- always much to be do- *** ... to do. Childhood mem- experiences were always thought but disrega- *** and enjoyed to focusing on the present and the ever important future for the ideals set forth.

And yet he knew he longed ****** past- for the future, to go ba- ** happier *****, awaiting happier times even when things became too compli***, before mistakes could-, before regr- as there was always so much to look forward to when possiblities were endless in a-

So imagine his surprise when he found himself a ch-**** found himself waking up with a ma-****

-headache. What did he dream to feel groggier than ever? The brother sighed, finding many problems of his childlike- **** no problems whatsoever to his child like body that has always been like that, when he knew he had much to grow.

Light and thorns reached out, enticing. Soft cotton pushed and singing let out, opposing.

(No, it's actually surprising that he was a child in the first place. Wasn't he already grown up, raised to be a leader and more and establishing his purpose? Or right now trying to find a purpose?)

"Brother, what's wrong? Mom's calling us for breakfast."

(Mom. He saw a world where that didn't happen, where he didn't have to go to that faction. Where he could have grown up, made friends and dreamed together, where it was two and not one that made a stage, where it was three and not two who had sought the stars. Where it was not him who had sung a lullaby but her who had sung it to them instead. He could see himself growing up, being with them and where he would have just... just...)

Strings pulled forth, unknowingly guided by a blinding light of another blessing. He came back, he would not escape, he would always be welcomed with open arms since all that is left to return.

Right beside him, as he was getting his bearings as he tried to remember what happened before and connecting to the present of his kid sister telling him that mom was waiting for them for breakfast.

"... Nothing, I just had a weird dream, that's all," the brother said with a smile.

(But wasn't this the dream? What happened? Why was he here?)

Strings tugged but were met with resistance of soft hands that would turn folly against master and a tune that once help bring about a downfall. Glowing light and thorns now made known to merge with strings, as if to help but also to reach back. THEY cared not. The strings persisted regardless, because THEY tried once and failed. THEY will keep trying until it is completed.

"What kind of dream was it?" his sister asked and the brother frowned thinking it back. It felt too realistic to even call itself a dream and yet it was how it had been. It was so realistic, but then... he can't recall it all too clearly.

"I'm... not exactly sure. I remember it was a dream when we were all grown up," the brother slowly said, trying to grasp for any details that were slowly distancing themselves from his conscious, "You were a singer, an idol and the fans loved you. I loved your singing so much and they were calling out your... your stage name."

"My stage name?" she asked, tilting her head.

"It... it was a really pretty name," the brother insisted even though to him, he was her sister and to her, he was... he was her brother, of course, "It was a bird's name, I know that much. Suitable for the girl that wants to fly where the sky takes her. Even to the stars."

"That sounds like a lovely name. Am I named after the Dove, the Canary or... hmm? And being a singer, huh? In that dream, are you also a singer with me? If I have a stage name, maybe you had a stage name too? Also a name of the bird too, right? Because we are meant to fly together?" the sister was invested in the dream that the brother was trying his hardest to describe.

(That bird's name was Robin. And there will be no bird name for the brother, as it was named after the rest day of Sunday. A name christened by the Family that took them in, to show new beginnings and discard too painful pasts. A name used symbolize more about their Family because as a part of the Family, they should be more true to the lineages that spoke out of them.)

(Even when they were adopted by the Oak Family, the Iris Family had seen potential in the little robin bird singing out of the cage and none with the brother who had always stayed behind and shone the spotlight on his dear sister. The separation never bothered the both of them, aware that their dreams should be fulfilled at any reasonable cost. Knowing that their separation was only between lineages and meeting again was always all too possible, even when Robin made her idol career and Sunday had to continue his training for the successor role the Dreamaster was hopeful that Sunday would take.)

(But should they have been separated? Couldn't they have... stuck together?)

THEY noticed. It was different from dreams before, a sense of unease and now unwanted intruders. THEY had been trying, ever since the embryo failed to give birth. And yet failure had not meant THEIR death. It only meant a prolonged birth. It only meant preparing, waiting and becoming. He dreamed, and THEY started pulling him through.

He was not supposed to be aware. He was only supposed to dream and never care for reality, and keep dreaming until he became THEM but now, unwanted intruders, from a different blessing and even those blessed by THEM through him.

He was being made aware, but so what? As long as he kept dreaming, with what-ifs of reality providing the dreams of his desires. And now, maybe, he can understand and help.

The light and thorns weaving the string stilled in anticipation. A song of melancholy, of desparation and of knowing ringed out even clearer. Out there, more people want it to be made clear to him, the differences between dream and reality.

The brother was about to answer, blinked and-

Only golden tears, closed forever, saw none of the reality and all the dreams. Whispers and nostalgia encased THEM like weaving musical notes, or a fluttering reel with words scattering like feathers from the wings cooconing THEM in. Strings weaved around THEIR hands had noticed and pulled, not wanting to be unrealized. He closed his eyes like THEM, he has tasted THEIR power. He will be shown and come to know. It might be sooner than expected but even he should savour the night.

A bracelet tightened somewhere, pattering feet echoed elsewhere.

"What were you trying to remember, brother?"

Sunday blinked once more, smiling at a grown up Robin. In his hand was a phone, with an unchanging wallpaper of a small stage between two children, with a girl atop the stage and pulling a boy upward. A woman behind them laughed and encouraged with the toys surrounding the makeshift stage full with cheers.

(What happened, again? Sunday was talking to his little sister with their mother waiting in open arms. He was about to describe his weird 'dream' when he actually-)

"Forgive me for being so into memory lane, Robin," Sunday replied to his sister, as he turned off his phone, "I can't believe how far we have reached to get to this stage. Have you already met Mom?"

"... Mhm, she can't wait for us to take the stage. It is unbelievable that the Planet of Festivities has allowed us to stand on stage as the Charmony idol duo, isn't that right, Sunday?" Robin asked, receiving Sunday's nod as an answer.

(They were referring to themselves by their names, around the age where their mother would have been lost, where they would be adopted to the Family and where they would separate in time as Family leader and songstress. A bird longing for ground, a bird longing for sky.)

(Wasn't this a world where Sunday decided to fly with Robin? In a world where both could achieve dreams instead of one. Because while Robin was free to sing, Sunday had been expected much from his position as a successor to the Dreammaster that without talent like Robin's to embark on a journey much like hers, filial piety and duty made him stay on knowing that his work here would help Robin's journey to the Harmony. He had long since conceeded to simply being a fan instead of a performer and if it meant Robin could soar instead of being tied down to Penacony like Sunday was, it was all worth it.)

(And yet, in a kinder world, where they could have lived for themselves, if Sunday chose to pursue instead of stifle a talent that he had like Robin and if he had actually kept his promise to fly together with Robin instead of conceeding to the constraints reality offered, he would not hesitate to fly with Robin. It would even be reassuring, to be there with her as they embark on a singing journey to spread the Harmony and help those in need. To lift each other and everyone else up, to support each other like no one else can and certainly to make sure that nothing bad would happen to his sister from the wiles of men, no matter how much she would call him out for overprotective big brother instinct.)

It was all that can be imagined and all that can be made real. The strings weaved even more easily than ever, a feeling of relief surging through THEM that nothing has changed much throughout the few nights that this has been done. The stage THEY sought out still remains impecable as ever.

Sunday smiled, feeling like they have made it very far indeed. The Halovian siblings always had a talent for song and dance, being perked up and nurtured with the help of their mother until they could soar on their own. Their feats in the entertainment industry reached to all corners of the world and the Family weren't the first of factions that have tried to invite their talents to the big stages but certainly the most appealing, when both siblings had been enamoured with the path that Harmony exudes, of the strong helping the weak and spreading the goodness throughout the vast galaxies.

Being invited to Penacony, a dream world was literally a dream came true for them. Even when it was weird, wonderful and strange living inside a dream while their real bodies were asleep.

(Even when they have already done this for a while. Even though Sunday now had an inkling about what will happen as they would now-)

Go through the Penacony Grand Theater, meet up with the Family members including the Dreammaster that they were honored to be formal acquaintances of (even though he's actually the foster father for them both, and the one that wanted so much out of them that Sunday rather bear the brunt of when one of them should at least fly) and were met with a large audience as they started singing together.

(And he could not be anymore surprised. He was certainly living a nice dream. But it just didn't make-)

"So he's finally calling. What else can I do but guide?" Even when the strings pursued to restrict free will, even when dreams had no use for explanation since you simply do and go with the flow.

"Brother?" Robin asked, in a whisper when Sunday suddenly stopped. Momentarily, he looked in surprise at Robin, and then to his shoulder before flashing a smile to continue the song and dance that they had just been performing. Despite the slight confusion from both singer and audience, they played to Sunday's tune of momentary distraction.

Never realizing the plush bunny right on his shoulder, staring him with his stitched up eyes in wonder and curiosity.

'If it doesn't make sense, look beyond the dream. And to do that...'

(He had to wake up. This was not his reality. Nice as it was, he would not forsake the new meaning that he had found long ago.)

It was wonderful, great and too good to be true.

(A long time ago, such escape would be welcomed for Sunday, something he would wholeheartedly embrace compared to the chaotic disorderly world that could swipe the rug underneath you at any moment. A secure and stable life featuring the happiest moments, the best of times without ever fearing the worst.)

(A long time ago, he didn't make any promises or opened his eyes to the messy world beyond him, that promised hope over the despairing tragedies that he had faced. A long time ago, he had been lonely except for his sister and the Dreammaster simply being confined within the Family. A long time ago, his wings had been clipped and the cage appealed.)

(That's why when his wings were spread open, he had to try flying. Because by flying, the free sky wanted to beckon and appeal better and wipe away his fears. As tempting as a dream, and something he wished he could realize deep down, with his own power. Can he? With promised wishes, that bracelet and thorns because he remembered a cat and a merchant with a coffin. He was flying blind but of his own making, so he will seek out his own answer, within the mess of his own unexpectedly and yet unsurprisingly.)

The strings tugged to no avail. This would be THEIR first stage mishap. The reels were ever changing and the song was growing louder. The light made it harder to see, and the thorns now cut through THEIR hands and THEY realized THEY had been played a fool. For him.

Mr. Bun Bun looked up at him, even though no more words were spoken between the two. Even when Sunday had simply flashed Robin a smile as he continued singing and dancing, he could only see the blurred version of the audience, as Robin was the only one now visible within his line of sight. The scene, that was once vivid and beautiful, now seem to crack as if it would be shattered like glass into nothingness.

And then, all around him were strings. So many golden strings, tying up him, Robin but surprisingly not Mr. Bun Bun. He pulled his arm and the strings loosely followed. He followed the strings and found that they come from a certain place in this shattering dream.

It wasn't his first time with such strings. He was starting to figure out their origins. And once again, he stopped and looked at Robin.

"Brother? What is it?" Robin asked.

The shattering glass went inward to total darkness and the strings tugged away from the darkness but Mr. Bun Bun pushed the strings towards the darkness and although Sunday wouldn't know what happened next, there was only one course of action.

He should have remained ignorant and blissful. The dream should not have shattered and THEY should have the power to restore it, to put him back into dreams but the thorns and light pushed back the strings even luring him inward.

"Goodbye Robin," he simply said, and with one last look to her confused and yet smiling gaze, Sunday fell backward wherever the strings would take him, however he would face it head on.

The thorns needed to be removed, and the gentle light were becoming a hindrance. THEY remembered the words 'receive divinity' and had been bamboozled. He was being dragged and will get a glimpse-

Strings, and reels and he saw everything.

'What would have happened if we won? What would have happened if the newborn god was created right then and there?'

Everything. He saw what THEY were, after the Embryo of Philosophy. Foolishly believing that a lone star would retain humanity in the delusional grandeur of a self-farce that convinced anyone of his crazed machinations, his humanity had been discarded for divinity from past and present Aeons, combined through a philosophy that birthed the Path. Out of a Halovian turned into a pure angel with so many white feathery wings covering the body that left the head, arms and legs naked to see only threaded by the thinnest of gold grasping the arms, legs and neck bounding outwardly to the vast universe and touching many asleep. From the gold strings birthed reels circling around the body to the eyes. The eyes always closed with only golden tears streaking through the face but never leaving there, so unrecognizable to him and yet so familiar.

And the reels, and the travelling. The people touched upon the strings, to a deep slumber and  the reels ever crossing through the eyes, seeing everything that once was, that happens and could be. THEY knew this was not past, present and future but what people wished, hoped and desired. What they could abhor, shudder and cry about. THEY see it all, and the strings choose to lead. For THEY wish people the sweetest dreams, for a paradise that birth THEIR own philosophy and path. Bunnies, bears and dolls of plushable kind pranced around with THEM, blessed as the ones to help dreams and glimpsed with THEM, to ensure the sweetest dreams of all.

He saw it.  Countless reels until he was unsure what was real.

A cowboy and flashy peacock were raiding an IPC building, one boldly violent while the other sneaking in silence. It had been planned for a long time, a lifelong desire for one and a backup plan for the other but united in vengeance for their homeworlds undeserving of what the IPC did and didn't do. And when they both met the man who started it all, there had been no hesitation.

A swordsman had always wanted to die, endlessly slaughtering prolonged life and culling away the false purities. Not once did he stray, as countless weapons flashed, left their mark and yet disappeared all the same. The swordsman better known as a weapon could not die and thus seeks out vengeance, facing a person that was an old friend and yet hateful stranger and when both had drawn their last breaths, would he  have been satisfied?

An animator has seen so much, and wished for everyone's safety. He had settled all accounts, except one. So just imagine his surprise at finding a blonde man once again, met so long ago to death, met a while ago as partners to cruelly betrayed unexpectedly and met recently as a distant stranger that had yet resonated cruelly within. It was the man he met a while ago as partners in a planet unknown, roped into schemes again but yet with a chance to finish what was started, the animator welcomed the blonde back reluctantly, hoping that there would be more to welcome back.

A girl did not dream, and has always only seen scorched earth, so what she truly dreams were of an ordinary life. Shopping, gaming, food, fun and fashion. A group comes to see her off, she goes to a concert. Pictures taken to remember each and every moment, because such simple joys shall never fade away.

A masked man never wants to give up, never let down and never run away in circles. In the snowy plains, they play, make merry and get chased by those who can't take a simple joke. And yet, keep playing. Keep making merry. Keep having fun. In the snow where all are welcomed, because what other joys should be seen for many to receive the warmest of welcomes even to thaw out the coldest of hearts, the harshest of crisis.

A cat has seen everything and yet was aware that nothing had been set in stone. Only seeing so far and so narrow, they play and pick around many possiblities. Desires from a fearless woman wanting fear, an immortal swordsman wanting mortality's end, a gamer playing forever and a robot of war craving the normal life. Opportunities from a navigator that fearlessly travels the lesser known paths, the animator seeking a way back, an archivist seeking a way forward, a photographer simply capturing the present moments and the one hosting a Stellaron within connecting multiple people together for a finale never known. And a noble knowing soul with power benevolent and accursed would wrap it up nicely would it not? A script-

A merchant looked straight in the eye, to the trial most anticipated. They sat at their high benches, they pushed him forth to what brings forth his future and he lets everyone watch. He wants everyone to know. And yet the future never set in stone leads to options abound, especially  a fool who believes they can get away with a farce of power without having any blowback and yet must make a choice between humanity and divinity and depending on the answer, even from a fool so similar to he-

The dream warps. THEY knew. He sees, not what THEY want. But what the thorns, gentle light and a script so real rooted unlike where THEY sought that he had to be snapped out. And gently, he would be put-

A string snaps.

THEY expressed astonishment.

A wardance with two swordsmasters and an apprentice.

An owl complaining about overtime, to getting the vacation they finally deserve.

A lone woman atones for her sins awaiting trial.

A fool laughs and hums a melody.

A knight praises a plant.

More strings snap.

"I... understand... already," Sunday panted, as he held closely than ever to Mr. Bun Bun whose soft plush anchored him from the... godly experience, "I know what I would have become, but I... did not. And I... would never..."

'Are you sure?'

Strings snapped and yet they simply lash back towards Sunday, as easily as if they were already a part of him. As if they longed for him, as if they should be one.

Once a brother became a leader and a sister a singer. Once the brother was clued in to the Order while the sister remained blissfully unaware. Once the brother would rise up through the agendas and went against the sister who found it all too cruel.

Another sister was glad that such was not the case, when her brother had always been too sensitive and kind when crying in his mother's arms while she remained dry eyed at the disaster befalling on them hoping against hope, when always singing the lullaby to soothe her to sleep and both always supporting their dreams. The brother had insisted that the sister had talent but the sister would always insist more, with the way he was attune to musical instruments and with his own singing catching the ears of the Iris family.

While the sister loved singing from being so inspired by her own brother, she instead encouraged her own brother, knew that it was in his veins to reach for the stars, to spread his own sensitivity and kindness that saved her and can save many others. It was something she believed so strongly that she put all her effort to making sure he can attain it, under the Oak family who taught her how to manage, deal with and support as all leaders can do. With a warm home waiting the brother after he explored and reached out.

The sister, more determinedly, never regretted the choice throughout her years with the Oak family. Taking care of the Charmony Dove that they had agreed to make a nest instead of a cage and sadly eaten by a predator, becoming a Bronze Melodia to listen and help atone the sins of the guilty, even going so far to appeal a stowaway's case in hopes of getting his family back to find out later on was a criminal's scam hearing his guilty confession herself and lastly, when her brother got shot in his journey through desolate planets to find their mother's final resting place that he updated her about in hopes that when she has time, they will go together. It was personally told by the Dreammaster to her, which her brother kept quiet because he did not want to worry her out of her busy schedule as they both try so hard to achieve their dreams.

Being shot, almost losing him, through a shooting when the planet her brother traversed unluckily was on a brink of war and her brother, kind and sensitive, could not stand idly by and got shot in saving a family so much like they once could be from enemies that rather save themselves. A war that was going for days and yet her brother never found heart to inform her of his situation and a sudden worry seized her, of nightmares that plagued her unless her brother soothed her with lullabies to sleep. Of both family lost, and she wondered whether she could still be strong despite everything if such tragedy happened.

Not all the strong could support or protect the weak like the sister hoped. The warm home that she promised the brother to come back to, the world itself and the promises made seem bleaker, until the Dreammaster clued her in about the Order. Of the strong leading the weak, like how the sister was trained to for her brother. And yet her own kindness and principles knew the folly suggested, and secretly opposed.

And yet she was forced a choice, when the Charmony Festival came to. When the Dreamaster wanted her brother to sing but the sister, always inspired and having enough talent from repeating the melodies her brother created, needed to take the stage. Yet, the Watchmaker was sly, the Nameless took up to the plate and so many factions schemed on their own. Still, for the paradise of their dreams, she-

"No... she... Robin... could not have," Sunday said, dread clinging to his body and tightening the strings as golden tears of his own streaked through his face. As the dreams were overwhelming him in their intensity, in how true they really feel and how he found himself sagging towards THEM.

' Brother . Would you really never, if I took your position?'

Although he did not take it kindly for THEM to mimic his sister's voice, Sunday had given it thought.

A possibility. An unwelcome one, and yet Sunday could not refute it. He would not lie to himself about the answer that had brought about his godhood and that would have made him a god.

Family bonds made it impossible for either siblings to subject the other to such cruelty. The strings hummed in agreement, so understanding of his plight and so accomodating that Sunday could not stop the next wave to come.

'You do not the power of dreams, the possibility of alternate universes, of a brother and sister truly happy within a simple rearrangement. Because why can't dreams turn into reality?  She  agreed after all, and you too, won't you?'

A brother and sister were separated when the brother flew too close to the sun. Another sister and brother separated because the sister thought she could be the sun as well. A brother and another sister were vessels for the same philosophy, finding solace in their shared plight different worlds away once they merged to become THEM, even if they had little idea but the dream was too good to savour and they took it, fashioned it and made sure.

A sister and another brother would be free from the sibling's mistakes, more happier with their own shared talents and dispositions. Forming the idol duo and following the dreams without the stains that they should not bear to burden. Couldn't it be something they could have done together? Who wouldn't want to ensure-

Sunday felt the soft tug from Mr. Bun Bun, as unaffected as the strings than ever to shake off the hold for Sunday to breathe and think. Even when the bunny, ever an anchor despite his light fluffineess, offered no words in form of advice or encouragement one way or another.

This time, golden tears still streaming from his face, overwhelmed and yet determined, Sunday took everything in and made his choice. Thanks to possibilities, thanks to a cat and merchant, thanks to thorns and gentle light. Thanks to a bunny.

[It was not a surprise that Sunday would not account for a song.]

The ever tightening  strings did not hurt as he thought they would, as alarming as what it meant. He gave them a light tug and the darkness swallowed him whole once more.

'So you choose to run away. Because you can only do so much in your dreams, before being taken over like so long ago that all you can do is tell the stories of childhood that blossomed to beautiful dreams, never fulfilled in a way you intended. And yet, you cannot escape. So long as you are bound by the strings. So let's show yet another one until you understand what it is you should truly do.'

***

Sunday found himself nowhere and everywhere. Even with his eyes closed, he could almost feel the golden streaked tears that should not be his. The strings that tried to control his own thoughts, that had manuevered through his dreams despite the obstacles with clashing thoughts, actions and memories that tried to make sense in the nonsensical realm of dreams. And yet, here he was having figured it out. Meeting with THEM, while holding the plush bunny in his arms. Wondering how he got here.

"Did you enjoy how you received divinity?" Mr. Bun Bun asked.

Wondering how he got here, Sunday had an inkling considering past events. Fast paced as usual but better now than later considering his... affliation he was made to realize. What he didn't understand was Mr. Bun Bun's position as such, coming out of nowhere but was just the anchor for him to keep steady.

The strings were by no means uncomfortable and the reels showed so much he could only comprehend and the power he felt, when he found himself leaning toward THEM, that being overwhelmed almost made him lose himself made him understand that divinity was indeed someone shouldn't lightly take.

And yet, Sunday could not regret his choices. After what he had seen of an alternate path, he was glad that it was him. Just glad.

"What are dreams here, Emanator of Dreams?" Sunday asked instead, because with his experience, they demand a new meaning.

"Dreams here mean a desire lived through, a worst-case scenario to be grateful for its prevention and a subconscious scenario delving into an information mine of many others that their real selves might not even know. It is a potential for the future and a callback to the past. It opens up many alternate realities even for a brief moment that you can wake up to or let yourself be in reality so be careful not trapping yourself in what you don't want real."

The fact that Mr. Bun Bun did not deny the title that Sunday gave him only made him understood the very power that had leaked out from him in the beginning, of THEIR influence that he could not suppress and an inevitability that he now understood even when he did not want to say it aloud yet.

One would be warier about a being serving THEM who was roping Sunday through an endless dream that he could fall into anytime but an Emanator does not necessarily serve their Aeon. And Mr. Bun Bun had done nothing to push Sunday right into THEIR arms, instead snapping him out of it although giving him the luxury of choice to choose either way. A choice that was unthinkable before but more obvious at present.

"Then, what am I doing? I have dreamt of childhood, then grew up as a part of an idol duo with Robin and even dreamed other's dreams. What will happen now?" Sunday now asked, more eager than ever to get out of the dream. To take control of his own reality before more happened that he could not grasp.

"The final dream from THEM. THEIR dream and what would happen to you in the process. This... will be the gentlest way THEY could bring you to THEM. Since we invariably rushed THEIR process and THEY wanted to give it a shot."

Unfortunately, Sunday understood that it was something that could not be escaped, something that should be indulged when the taut strings do not listen to him. When the thorns and the light that came from a certain merchant wanted a definite answers from what felt like overwhelming trials.

Sunday didn't ask much else, his glimpse of divinity giving him answer enough about what awaited him. Mr. Bun Bun offered no more, when all answers had been revealed, when the strings once more pulled.

He could not escape. Was a childhood dream just too unrealistic? Was a dream of an aftermath, of reality, enough for him to understand? THEY wondered, without caring because it was only through dreams that THEY could continue THEIR own making and letting him keep dreaming was all THEY prioritise first and foremost, when this long journey of dreams would come to an end as long as he cannot not awakened like every mortal does to the ongoing days and nights.

'Where am I? Why... am I chained?' Sunday thought, as chains jingled, decisively more suffocating than the strings that determined his self ironically or expectedly enough.

It was all around hard and uncomfortable, except for the soft bunny that seated themselves on Sunday's lap.

"This is THEIR desirable outcome for you. While THEY traverse through the universe, this is the dream most appropriate for you before you merge and become one with THEM. They desire to give you the proper ending for the long journey that made THEM from you among many other individuals," Mr. Bun Bun stated.

THEY painfully kept their eyes closed, golden tears streaking all the way down to a curled up body that simply moved through the strings, floating through reels and notes until THEY were met with silence and convinience and knew that was not what he wanted either, so THEY showed.

"Me being imprisoned and chained without any usefulness left in me, how appropriate," Sunday said blandly.

"Is that how you see this?" Mr. Bun Bun asked, ironically delighted by such a bland statement, "At least see this through the end."

As soon as that was said, a door opened revealing the last person he would ever think to meet imprisoned or not. When he saw Lady Bonajade of the IPC, Sunday could not control what he would speak next, in such a defeated manner that he had not felt and yet feeling so right that it didn't faze him in the slightest. It was the first that the strings puppeteered him instead of giving him free reign but within this story, he found it necessary.

(He was simply shown another possible alternative, one where it was his sister that had learned about the Order instead of him. This was a possible alternative where he was saved by the IPC rather than the Stellaron Hunters, although he did not understand why.)

Even so, the out of body experience still left Sunday reeling, but meeting Lady Bonajade and being unchained bamboozled him. Owing the IPC left a sour taste in his mouth and yet, it couldn't wrap itself up more neatly, not noticeable at first but Jade had came for him because of Robin and with how he was shown a dream where the brother and sister reversed their roles, he understood the dynamic between siblings was used to encourage Sunday within dreams.

No matter what, no matter how long it took, he would return to THEM. Did he think divinity simply stopped? No, he understood the gravity of his situation throughout dreams. It was time to think of the lesser evil.

Because Sunday knew it was a gentler ending for Robin when right here, she made a deal with Jade. She knew Sunday's fate. She could rest easier within this reality than the one where he joined the Stellaron Hunters without Robin's interference, who still didn't know what had gone on.

Robin here who would wish for Sunday's happiness but no longer go into pursuit in answers from Sunday after knowing his wellbeing was ensured even through the shadiest of deals. Robin out there, insistently pursuing Sunday because of ignorance about everything he had done, never truly knowing about his safety and well-being when he only ran and potentially bringing herself to danger even worse than a shady deal.

Between this dream and reality, Sunday knew which one would give a gentler blow to Robin. He was made painfully aware of that. He understood what THEY are trying to say, what THEY know his dream would shape up to be...

'Go now. You are free - O chosen one, who dared to exceed his bounds. Sever your wings, descend to the mortal realm, and walk their lands. See what the world is truly like.'

If only being free and descension were truly easy although this dream would have given such a way out. A more humane 'eternal separation' when both were still human only separated by criminality, status and schemes. Even then, their 'paths could still converge 'neath the sun'.

In reality, the eternal separation will be more final and more cruel than even death. For Sunday cannot sever his wings, one day he would not be able to descend to the mortal realm and walk their lands and even when he could still see what the world is truly like, one day he would not care for such.

One day, he would not care for Robin.

In fact, even in this dream, a part of him already stopped when he became THEY and yet, stuck in a dream within a dream, he still cared. He was still there and he would make his decision. A decision of ignorance, bliss and more.

Again, the strings tightened around his weakness. Again, he found himself sagging...

"No, you shouldn't fall for it. No..." Mr. Bun Bun whispered as they nudge Sunday who had been in very deep thought when the puzzle pieces started clicking one by one. He was now pulled-

-made to stay because THEY knew that this was the best version THEY could ever ask for him. A tribute to the one who made THEM and eventually fade away inside, only as THEIR origins and nothing more. THEIR strings tightened and-

-with a song from the depths as Sunday blinked.

To now find himself standing at a huge field and Robin right beside him, looking at him with an innocent and yet confused look.

"Brother, what had you been daydreaming about this time? Was... was being where our mother... saved our lives... too much for you?" Robin asked.

Sunday knew he had jumped into yet another dream without any rhyme or reason, but this one was hitting a little too close to home. Now that he was more in touch with his surroundings, he finally realized the destination of this place. He knew that Robin had once made this journey herself through an interview during her break from the spotlight. He wondered that if Robin had went back home, whether he should have accompanied her. Whether it would mean anything for her, for him, for both of them.

And for the one that they had lost. All those years ago.

"... At least I have you, Robin," Sunday said.

"We will always have each other," Robin affirmed, "No matter what."

Once upon a time, those words would bring comfort. Now, they simply stabbed him in the heart.

"No matter what," Sunday echoed regardless even when it didn't feel true. After receiving divinity, after being foretold about eternal separation with the consequences he forced to bear, that he would do all over again just to not endure role reversal.

And that it can never be overturned no matter how much he wanted to sever his wings and descend to the mortal realm that people could have believed.

Sunday simply sat down, and Robin followed suit. He looked at her, wondering how the real one out there was faring. He never wanted to tell her anything. Maybe he should. In the silence, free from the strings that only leave faint traces, it would be a free dream for a while. Fanciful and whimsy and here he was savouring the silence and peace.

"Sunday, thank you very much for just being here," Robin said, resting her head on his shoulder as she closed her eyes briefly to flutter open, "We should have both been here before. You deserve to honour mother as much as I do, as a trip we should have made together instead... instead..."

"We are both here now," Sunday reassured her, playing along when memories for this dream did not come for Sunday to understand any context. He looked for ways to wake up, for THEM to reappear and test him once more but with Robin's head resting on his shoulder, his mobility decided to up and take a break for a while.

"But we... we could never have. It's... I'm really grateful to the Nameless for giving you a chance despite what happened in Penacony and redeem you from the crimes in the eyes of the others in the galaxies. If you had still been on the run, we would have never met each other again."

'They what,' Sunday swallowed. Instead, what came out of his mouth was, "And yet here we are."

"I know that. You don't have to repeat it twice, brother," Robin said, a stretch of silence passing before she finally continued, "Can you finally tell me?"

"Tell you what, dear sister?" Sunday asked, stroking her long hair and finding the urge to sing her a lullaby. When had it been that they could act like this, as the siblings they were in childhood after growing up to act as professional adults the public made them out to be. Bliss like this was few and far between each other.

He wished he cherished them more.

"What happened in Penacony. Why... you did what you did. It's been so long now, and while the universe learned to let it go in light of what you have done throughout your atonement, I still want to know," Robin confessed, and Sunday's heart stopped a beat.

He knew Robin out there would want to know the same. He knew he would never have the heart to actually tell Robin, because until the very end, she would have known nothing if not for the Nameless' interference and the Dreammaster's decision back then.

But, this Robin was just a dream version.

Sunday would never want to tell Robin, and it was a choice he made peace with but just like the choices and what-ifs he had posed to the Nameless back then, one especially about a haunting nightmare whether he support or stopped Robin's Harmony journey, this one was akin to such choices.

He could explore the other choice without much consequence. As long as the real Robin was not privy to it, Sunday could feel at ease.

A haunting nightmare. He wished he had the luxury of choosing both and see which choice was superior. In a dream, whether real or not, was an opportunity as good as one.

Maybe the decisions he made prior wouldn't haunt him as much if he fulfilled and seen through his what-ifs. In THEIR world, where dreams have entirely new meaning, Sunday felt compelled to try it out.

"What else could I have done at the time, when the IPC were trying to dig their claws into Penacony, when the Watchmaker decided to invite every faction into Penacony and Death came back? What could have I done when the Family and Dreamaster were determined to ensure Penacony's success as the Planet of Festivities as much as possible? Robin, there wasn't much time. I decided on my lesser evil. I decided on what I shouldn't escape in the first place."

Only silence met Sunday, with Robin listened intently. Non-judgemental but filled with questions that her emotions couldn't quite hide. Just like when they were kids, with many asked and unasked questions from Robin, Sunday would patiently answer them all.

"Honestly, if not for Death, the IPC and how you 'died' that day, if the Charmony Festival went smoothly all according to plan... it would have just been a regular festival with no one the wiser. Ena's dream should not have happened in the first place, at all."

"I can feel your surprise, Robin, but remember that you were supposed to sing at the Charmony Festival that day and summon Dominicus. You were the one that the Dreammaster wanted to bring forth Order with with the power of the Stellaron brought about by traitors of many who cannot be trusted. Even if the Dreammaster was one of them, how about others, with the one that can see all? I knew all this, but I cannot defy the Dreammaster. And yet, I would not want to put you in harm's way."

"I was forbidden to tell you anything and couldn't do so without so many eyes watching all over Penacony, and I could do nothing but prepare you for your doom as required from the Family and especially the Dreammaster, from people who didn't know better and people who did. All I could have done at that time was investigate more about the Stellaron, Penacony's history and the rest of the Family in hopes to oust the traitors that kickstarted the folly about people's grandoise ambitions with the Planet of Festivities. Despite being united under the banner of Harmony, being with the Family, we are all still very human, Robin." 

"And the rest, you know what happened. I was working on limited time, many factions all over the world had to be invited to the Charmony Festival of all times and Death came, especially to get you. And despite it all, the Charmony Festival was going to happen. You were found out alive in Dreamflux Reef, a place that the Stellaron didn't reach and yet pointed out the severe conspiracy that runs deep in Penacony. You wanted to confront the Nameless were willing to take arms for the Watchmaker against the Dreammaster who would do anything to ensure his ambition. I just needed more time, and did not have any, not enough to deescalate and resolve the situation that was about to go down."

"Did you really want to fulfill the Order's ambition?" Robin finally asked.

"I would consider it a lesser evil. I was not opposed to it, but there is a reason I asked for a fair duel with the Nameless. The results were all I could ask for, whichever way they would lean to and I would have accepted the outcome regardless."

"Then why do it in the first place? Was there anyway so the ending... so that you..." Robin was at a loss for words and Sunday easily picked up what to say next.

"A scapegoat was inevitable, Robin. Say that I wanted to defy the Dreammaster same as you, and that I did in our confrontation. Me, you and Mr. Yang against the Dreammaster. Can we even underestimate a dead man who could still be among us? Would you think less of me if I said I had been worried that day and decided... between you and me, if you were going to be forced on a stage that you didn't want, I would rather take up your place especially when I investigated about the Order and understood the risks to take."

"I do not think any less of you brother," Robin said, "Because in the end, everything that you have told me still reminds me of the brother that I know of. You... you really did it for the paradise of our dreams, didn't you?"

"Yes," Sunday answered.

"I wished I could have just helped you back then, just a little," Robin said.

"I would not have wanted you in danger, Robin," Sunday said, "I would not wanted your dreams die because of me."

"What is the use of dreams, the dreams that we came up together, without you?" Robin asked.

Sunday remained silent as he was unable to answer and instead basked in how catharic it felt to simply confess easily. He was aware that Robin would pick up some of the pieces of his confession prior, that she might have picked up his own nuances and already was aware of what he would have confessed, simply wanted to hear it as the truth from his lips . And it never felt better, especially in this dream where much time must have passed for him to be 'reedemed', so that whatever aftermath that happened in Penacony was no longer for Robin's to put herself in danger for so he could safely reveal without much consequences.

And hearing her answer, whether real or not, about how they were still family to each other, how she did not think of him less and so much more, Sunday thought he would always run way from such things but in the light of such truths, he felt like a weight had lifted from his shoulders.

It felt surprisingly good. With Robin, at what was once their homeland, he basked in the peace.

And yet, he knew such respite would come to an end.

"Is your curiosity sated?" Mr. Bun Bun asked, "Or will you keep going, until you forgotten what your true reality is?"

Sunday did not startle when a bunny materialized right in front of him to lean on his stomach. What came with their presence was THEM too, for he could feel and had an inkling about what might happen next.

THEY now seek him out for an answer, having seen everything with the night to be everlasting as it is. To keep on staying, to keep on seeing and he knows that he's been shown so much, and can't quite let go. For will his curiosity ever be sated, despite his defiance or else he would have waken up a long time ago?

The strings were now ever more forceful, but the light and thorns gently linger. Having known and understood THEM now, the reels accompanied and Sunday became almost blind. He was pushed for an answer.

At this point, it was like flipping through multiple books at the same time, only fragments of information retained and... he couldn't stop himself when it came to lingering in this dreamscape, despite Mr. Bun Bun's explanation. Despite knowing the new meaning and answer that he had almost forgotten in this everlasting dream.

Why does life slumber?

Because... we will wake up from our dreams.

THEY kept their eyes painfully close, because the gold had already rusted THEIR eyes shut. They can only see without eyes, inwardly through reels and pages with the strings THEIR only respite. THEY hear so many voices, wishes and dreams and THEY pulled-

And Sunday conceeded.

THEY were surprised, thinking he would be too stubborn and THEY, newly born and made, could finally be completed, realized into the world through this vessel until THEY became more into the galaxy. With a hand (like when another hand had reached out, during a battle of epic proportions that gave birth, to an embryo that had steadily grown until now) reaching out to his-

And Sunday grasped, taking the strings beyond the hand.

"I will be opening my eyes now, that everything behind the scenes has been finished. It was... enlightening to know so much," Sunday finally replied, words meant only for Mr. Bun Bun and THEM, "I wonder whether this was what Elio and Luocha desired out of me."

He could not have. He just did not. A human taking divinity instead of divinity absorbing the human. A folly ever continuing, a battle ever waged. A rejection of greed and insanity. And a loss ever so surprising. But somehow known to THEM. And yet THEY knew it was temporary victory. And yet, THEY did not understand such struggle. Because dreams were what THEY have been set for life, and whatever else mattered little. So let the folly continue, and care not for the statements he gave now.

"Does it really matter? They could not have done anything about this. They were only aware, and for their own agendas, hoped you picked the outcome they desired. If you don't agree with them, you don't have to follow them even if they helped you to reach a more... humane conclusion," Mr. Bun Bun said.

"Humane conclusion," Sunday repeated, but he would wonder the consequences otherwise. The embryo was never truly gone, and if a day came that he fell asleep unguarded and without any such help now, he wondered how far the embryo would have truly grown. At least he was now aware of it. At least, there is a way of delaying the inevitable while still accessing the powers with full understanding, whether he wanted to use it or not. To make wishes come true. To realize a paradise he still wished in his heart to set in stone.

And to which is why the growing Path deep within, the embryo that he had foolishly created even for a self-directed farce, will never go away.

"Does it bother you?" Mr. Bun Bun asked quietly, "That despite everything, that you are still used and played around by others for their own agenda? That you are actually going along with it?"

Elio, and there was also Luocha. And yet, it was by their intervention that he had realize this trial.

"It benefits me as well, so I do not find it in myself for complaint," Sunday confessed easily, "They have showed me the way to this power, but you forget that nothing is set in stone and it is by my choice of how this power will be used, don't you think?"

"If you say so," Mr. Bun Bun pointed out in a disbelieving voice and yet did not comment any further.

"So are you finally going to wake up from this dream?" Mr. Bun Bun asked with finality.

It was already a given, when Sunday had made up his mind a very long time ago. Ever since he had fallen, and tried.

"Big brother?" Robin asked and Sunday turned his back towards her after what she would have felt a long silence from him, but not without looking back at her.

"Don't worry, I will see you soon out of this dream," Sunday finally said aloud to Robin.

He smiled to Robin hoping that will appease her but he did not expect the gasp, and her quickly running towards him. Sunday tried to sidestep, but Robin was faster leaving them as an entanglement of limbs once Sunday fell from being rushed upon with Robin on top of him. Despite such position, Robin paid no notice as she looked deeply to her brother's eyes.

"Is that true? Do you promise?" Robin asked, and Sunday simply startled. Robin here was certainly a figment of his imagination surely, so he had freely said whatever he wanted knowing that it was only between him and a formless dream now of his own control. And yet, the way she was acting now went beyond what a supposed figment of imagination would, as if Robin was really here and experiencing the dream with Sunday as they can both go back to their own reality...

That should be impossible. Unfortunately, Sunday took one look at Mr. Bun Bun who felt oddly smug and he realized, that just like the time with Aventurine and Dr. Ratio, he got one-upped.

"How?" Sunday hissed at Mr. Bun Bun who felt nonchalant to Sunday, and looking at Robin, who was suddenly sheepish, all pretenses had been dropped.

How? Sunday's eyes now demanded a lot from Mr. Bun Bun. How much did she know? How much was she aware? Was she aware of his affliation with the Stellaron Hunters, his ascension to Aeonhood, his reeceding humanity that he found out all in the span of a dream?

He did not want Robin to know. Why did she have to know?

"Whatever worst case scenario you are thinking, despite it being good for you to talk about everything face to face for real, Robin was only there whenever she appeared in your dreams. Whatever else you have dreamed of, she does not know."

Sunday did not miss that Mr. Bun Bun decided to disregard Sunday's question but chose to take the bait and mull over the plush rabbit's statement.

So that would mean she wouldn't know about his affliation with the Stellaron Hunters nor about his Aeonhood. There was still the possibility of being eavesdropped. It was something he would not think about.

But everything that he had confessed to her. Everything he didn't want her to know now because since this was Robin they were talking about who oh so willingly threw herself into a warzone to bestow the light of Harmony in the way she can for both weak and strong. The person like him who found Penacony their second home, and wanted to protect the paradise of their dreams and might be aware-

"What more are you hiding from me this time, brother?" Robin muttered, "At the very least I got the gist about the truth you wanted to hide from me back in the Xianzhou. To protect the paradise of our dreams, I will oust any traitors within the Family for their ambitions from the Stellaron so that your actions to lure them into a state of complacency does not go to waste, brother. Traitors, including the Dreammaster... who cannot be truly dead, when he could still be among us, huh?"

Sunday paled because his sister accurately said what he did not want anyone else figuring out, at least not now. Robin frowned in response to his 'perfectly justifiable reaction.'

"It really took you to think it a dream to actually tell me anything instead of finding it out on my own. Is it really hard to just be honest with me, brother?" Robin asked ruefully, and Sunday grimaced.

"Was it hard to be honest with me, about your trip in Kasbelina-VIII?" Sunday turned it around, without malicious intent but painful curiosity that he had bottled up until now, when he realized that they both had not been very honest with each other. For a while even, that made Sunday briefly thought where it all went wrong.

Robin had been silent on such a sudden question when she looked at Sunday's face, seeing the painful curiosity etched in his face. Sunday still remembered about his question to the Nameless and Firefly about Robin and Kasbelina-VIII. Whether they would support Robin's journey when presented the choice.

Sunday did have a choice and the fact that Robin still went on her journey based on the interview was enough to tell what Sunday's choice had been and yet, it was something that haunt him every step of the way, for the other shoe to drop. And if it was like Kasbelina-VIII, if he had no Dreammaster to inform about any tragedy Robin suffered and lived in bliss ignorance while losing his sister...

Sometimes, he wondered whether he would have more peace of mind if Robin didn't bother to omit. He would never know. It was certainly hypocrisy, but both were guilty of it.

Both continued being guilty of hyprocrisy as they remained silence at the face of the questions. Both could not find an answer in front of each sibling, and it was something that brought shame and unease to both.

Sunday was the first to break it out, muttering quietly, "Robin... I just wanted to make a point. It's just, what is the use of the dreams we came up together without you, sister? Almost dying as Kasbelina-VIII, thinking that you died at Penacony from the Memory Zone Meme Death, and if something like that happens again..."

Robin quickly hugged him, startling Sunday as he flashbacked the last time they hugged like this. Despite him knowing this was the real Robin, despite him now knowing about the true meaning of eternal separation and that their diverging paths, that it will be easier for both of them to keep at a distance despite how much they talked, how much they wanted to be as close before, to make up when such relationship might make things even more painful in the future... this time, Sunday returned the hug.

Robin let go, squeezing Sunday's hands and looking straight to his face, "At least tell me whether you will keep your promise, that we will see each other again. Then, maybe we will find the right words to tell each other everything. Maybe we can make peace with all the decisions that we have made and move forward on a more united front, like when we were kids. And maybe we don't have to rely on stolen nights just to see each other again like this. So then, whatever worries we both have now will be no more because we will know for sure that we are there for each other."

"Robin..." Sunday said, touched by her sincere and heartfelt words getting through him to the point of-

"Sunday, are you crying?" Robin asked, shocked. Sunday wiped his face, a gold tear emitting out his eye. A meaning all too clear and yet deep down in his heart, within the reality he lived on, that time was still far to come.

"See you soon, Robin," Sunday stated instead, "I... I am really glad that you still see me as your brother. Let's fly together again, if... if it's still meant to be."

A tentative hope and nothing more, blossomed outside of his more cynical view at the whimsy of dreams.

He didn't even wait for Robin's answer, because the hope he simply stated was not only for him, but simply for Robin to hear, and to believe, even in his stead should the time come that he could not find his statement going anywhere close to the truth. If he was going down this path, he would maintain it as long as he could.

THEY will never open THEIR eyes again, but he has and he will. And he has taken. Yet, divinity was not one that could be taken and controlled. Divinity is what takes and controls those foolish enough to believe themselves more when THEY found the strings simply tighten their hold onto THEM and in the countless reels, THEY see arrogance, paradise and blasphemy. THEY were so close to realization, and yet it was not THEM to emerge but he. And maybe that's because THEY rather slumber while he rather wake.

The strings clasp the wings back, the golden tears painted the face ever so starkly and darkness only awaited THEM. And yet, as long as one dreamed, as long as the ideal so strong still pulsed within him, whether he liked it or not, no matter what, THEY will come back and THEY will grace the world with a blinding light that would force so many eyes closed to where many rightfully belonged. He would disagree, for he preferred the gentle light. And yet, was there a choice? Or was it simply folly?

As of now, THEY have conceeded because one day THEY will emerge. THEY can be used as much as possible, for THEIR ideals until it is realized he and THEY were one and the same. And that THEY would only care about what had truly driven THEM into being in the first place. It will always only be a matter of time.

And Sunday knew this all too very well. Finally, he understood what eternal separation in the script meant. Of course, he would never mention as such to Robin. He had accepted the inevitability of fate, and yet it was because the inevitability chose to be a distant future away, was made into a distant future away with his knowing that he would grasp what he can with what humanity he had left.

Before divinity completely took over.

***

"You should wake up soon unless you want to catch THEIR attention or get swallowed into the abyss," Mr. Bun Bun said.

That was directed to the only dreamer left after Sunday's departure, with said dreamer gracefully getting up and looking around the crumbling dreamscape. Robin opened up her arms as Mr. Bun Bun gladly jumped into them hugged.

"I will eventually leave, but I want to stay here a little longer. Just enough to do this."

She walked towards the grassy plains, to the spot that was once memoria and nothingness and just like during the last of her travels, it doesn't get easier.

"Mom, even here, I wonder whether you can hear me," Robin whispered.

It had been a wild ride in this dream, being sucked into it by Mr. Bun Bun who had always wanted the best for both siblings even if she couldn't pinpoint why. She was able to have a better talk with her brother, rather than the times he had tried to avoid and run away from her as if he was fine with the status quo.

Robin was so obviously not.

That was why she had been so happy to go towards the right direction.

"I am sure you didn't think your two kids would grow up like that, huh?"

And now she had a mission. Even though she had to stay out of the spotlight from Penacony for some time thanks to her promise, even when it might take some time of preparation, confirmation and resources, she had a mission she will complete.

"But I am sure everything will be alright."

Robin stood up, and then let Mr. Bun Bun take her away from the dream. With one last look to the plains ahead...

"Watch over me as I do my best to save my home and family, no matter how long it takes."

There might be a lot more that she might not know about Sunday, or anything else for that matter but she was getting there.

And boy, did she have ideas.

***

When Sunday woke up, he was met with the Stellaron Hunters in a bed of his own assigned room and a cat perching on his blanket.

"So it has begun," the cat said, and Sunday grimaced.

"How long... did I dream?" Sunday asked.

"About three days," Firefly answered.

"We are lucky that we could even get you out of the brink, Birdie but there might be no second time," Kafka said. While the Hunters expressed their concern, Sunday had only stared straight at the cat.

"Is this a future possibility that you have seen?"  Sunday demanded from Elio, "Why did you not say anything?"

"Destiny discriminates for no one, and even then, it is more blurred for certain individuals such as a once fledging god. Just because you have fallen once doesn't mean that you are not worthy to rise again. You have been marked but it was too early for anything substantial to happen," Elio explained.

"So you knew, but never said a thing to me," Sunday simply said.

"There are some paths best tread on your own," Elio said unhelpfully and Sunday frowned.

"So, how had the dream been? What did you think?" Elio now asked.

Sunday was as surprised at these turn of events, as anything else. Was it a blessing or a curse?

To have power over dreams but as liable to be entrapped in them as anyone else?

A just punishment or a second chance even for the most fleeting of times, but this explains why the Stellaron Hunters wanted his 'noble soul'. Alturism was a sham, Sunday pessimstically thought, and yet what should he have expected from a criminal group who took him in out of gains for the future of their organization?

And yet, did it change anything? Sunday sighed, as he knew well. Getting used to his body that was in hunger for three days and getting up unsteadily on his feet, he looked at his peers and the cat.

"The night will be too short," Sunday finally answered before giving a slight smile, "And yet, it is enough for what needs to be done, without any regrets."

However they wanted to interpreted that mattered little to Sunday. After all, he was still getting use to the new life ahead of him.

Chapter Text

Kafka was no stranger to weirdness so starting the day with their latest recruit getting into a heated argument with a plush bunny even when he was downing what looked like the tenth to twentieth energy drink with a few more packs around his bedside didn't faze her in the slightest. Only an amused rise in the eyebrow was the only reaction she showed even if it went unnoticed by Sunday who was obviously buzzed from the amount of caffeine he took while the plush bunny chatised him for such an unhealthy habit.

"Stop it. Stop it with the energy drinks already. It would not kill you to go to sleep, instead of resorting to that!" the plush bunny, who Kafka recalled calling themselves Mr. Bun Bun, unleashed a whole new one on Sunday.

"The less I sleep, the better it is for everyone," Sunday said, speaking fast even with exhaustion crawling through his veins, "I have no need to dream anymore. I cannot afford to lose myself."

"Just because you almost lost yourself once and will eventually lose yourself the more you dream doesn't mean you have to resort to energy drinks," Mr. Bun Bun argued.

"What else am I going to substitute sleep with? If I want to at least remain a functional being, I need something in my system and caffeine is the best option. And the way to get caffeine is caffeinated drinks like these," Sunday said, sipping yet another can until he finished it to rummage for another from a pack that he probably raided from the Stellaron Hunter's fridge. Might be Silver Wolf's because she would keep something like this if she needed to crunch through an all-nighter gaming session and while Kafka amused herself in thinking how Silver Wolf would rip a new one on Sunday just for taking her 'holy water that helps when I need to show who's boss in'... well, insert whatever game she's playing, but that wasn't the point.

"Why not coffee?" Kafka now chimed in, unable to stay silent any longer, "Isn't that the most regarded caffeinated drink of them all to stay awake despite exhaustion?"

"Coffee unfortunately doesn't work for me, being a bit too bitter for my- oh, Miss Kafka, I didn't notice you there? How are you here?" Sunday started to answer Kafka's question, until he realized that she was there by his door with a playful smirk to his startlement and slight embarassment that he didn't notice she was there.

He might be really buzzed...

"I was there for a while. I did try knocking on your door but you didn't answer. I heard voices so I knew you were there and since you didn't answer me no matter how much I knocked, I just simply opened the unlocked door," Kafka answered smoothly, "The reason I am here is that the rest of us are having breakfast and I wonder whether you wanted to join us."

"... Oh," Sunday said, blinking as he tried to process the statement, "Is it morning already? I see no reason why I shouldn't join you. Let me get ready and then I will see you soon."

It was a cue to leave him be for now, even when Mr. Bun Bun shot both Sunday and Kafka looks. Once Sunday shot Mr. Bun Bun a look of his own, the plush bunny simply sat on bed unmoving but undoubtedly pouting if they could make expressions other than the big sewed up white eyes and unchanging smile.

Kafka had obliged, as she bemused herself to report to Silver Wolf who it was that took her energy drinks when she had been accusing a fair few of them about such crime and none owned up to it. No one would guess it would be their pious new recruit, wouldn't it? Even when they were shown he had such a wild side.

No one would have guessed a Family leader of high standing and prestige with much to live for and more to lose would easily commit himself to a dangerous script even after his downfall through reckless acts of driving with the motorbike and starskiff. It stands to say that once more in their Stellaron Hunter group, only Bladie was allowed to drive.

As for Kafka herself, she was unfortunately a bit like Sunday with how fearless she could be on the road but she digressed.

Going back to the dining room of their humble abode, she thought back of what Sunday had been doing after three days of being a sleeping beauty. He was allowed recuperation in his room after the ordeal despite how well rested he was with being hungry and thirsty without any sustainment for the past three days as the downside. He had only came out once with them into the dining room to eat and drink what had been denied of him during rest. Only awkward silence had reigned throughout the table when Sunday had kept to himself and took his time with nourishment. Soon after, he had secluded himself into his room for the whole day.

And now they found themselves at the very next day when Kafka decided to call him out for breakfast. The silence and isolation he had put himself up to was not unexpected when faced with the shocking truth of what one could be, or had become such as Sunday's own situation. His compliance to breakfast, even when it meant meeting the people who were about to be his co-workers that one in his position would be naturally wary of, felt a little less expected but no less unwelcomed when a certain cat felt the need to make things clearer for their newest recruit all in due time.

The newest recruit who had done his job well so far and even overcome himself to the outcome that Elio most wanted. As far as recruits go, he was doing fine in their line of work. Establishing himself better within the Stellaron Hunters through personal trials despite having only acquantainceship status for the rest meant that maybe it was time for Kafka to shine.

She would be presented the perfect opportunity after all.

She smiled to herself, knowing the shock Sunday might find himself when it wasn't just an ordinary breakfast invite. Starting with how he would have to contend with a certain angry gamer the moment he arrived~

***

"I certainly put a sticky note saying 'Silver Wolf's - Do not touch' on the packs of energy drinks that I have been stocking on for the latest tournament for one of my games and you depleted half of it??? In one day??? What are you made of? And how can you do this to my holy water? Have you no shame, you holy man who would at least leave credits for the crimes you were forced to commit?!" Silver Wolf ranted to Sunday the moment he made his appearance to the Stellaron Hunters in the dining room.

If Silver Wolf was trying to guilt trip Sunday for the 'unbelievable heinous crime' that he commited, then it was already working too well even without the unnecessary dramatism because the moment that Silver Wolf admitted the energy drinks were hers with such a sticky note, Sunday paled and looked downright apologetic.

"Miss Silver Wolf, I sincerely had no idea that those energy drinks were yours. I just found them stocked up in the fridge and found no sign that they had belonged to certain people. I thought those drinks were for all of us and in my tired state, had decided to take as much as I could just so I wouldn't sleep. For that, I am really sorry. I will certainly pay you back in some way for the trouble that I have caused you."

"You... you don't have to lay it so thick, you know?" Silver Wolf said, clearly unused to such sincerity before undoubtedly trying to change the topic before she felt truly uncomfortable, "And what do you mean there was no sign that it belonged to me? That sticky note should be clearly noticeable the moment you opened the fridge unless..."

Silver Wolf's eyes roved around until her eyes naturally landed to the black cat lounging around the table with its tail swishing around and a mischievious glint in its too smart eyes.

"You..." Silver Wolf's voice lowered to a growl, pointed towards the cat.

"Me," Elio spoke, not even keeping up pretenses for what Silver Wolf was implying, "I felt like Sunday there needed it more than you do and it is unhealthy to hog such a supply for yourself, Silver Wolf. Really, it was easy to swat away the paper and no one ever the wiser."

Before Silver Wolf would barrage a healthy dose of curses to Elio, something that any member of the Stellaron Hunters had found themselves doing against Elio's know-it-all attitude, Firefly chose to spoke up and got herself into the conversation:

"But isn't it equally unhealthy for Mr. Sunday to umm... hog that supply for himself, even if you say you think he needs it?"

Elio didn't bother to answer such a question and Sunday awkwardly looked away at such a statement but Silver Wolf was not done with her ranting and Sunday could only stand there to just endure the laydown.

It was not bad, for the rest of the Stellaron Hunters to somewhat get use to their latest recruit who was living with them now. Kafka could only watch this with amusement in her features, as Blade simply ignored everyone seated at the dining table and sharpening his sword for the lack of anything to do while Firefly observed the decisively one-sided conversation with more apprehension on her face.

Eventually, Kafka took pity to both Sunday and by extension Firefly who was getting second hand uneasiness from all this and walked to Silver Wolf while resting a hand on her shoulder.

"I think you got your point across for everyone here, Silver Wolf. And Birdie here looks pitiful at the mistakes he made willing to make up for it. Don't you think that's enough for you already?"

"Ugh," Silver Wolf eventually conceded but added regardless, "But how is it possible for one man to down so much cans in the span of one night? Was he trying to get an early death through heart attack?"

"Hmph, if only it was that easy," Blade remarked, a bit more talkative in regards to death through a sense of haunting nostalgia before he was picked up by the Stellaron Hunters.

"Don't say it like you haven't drank as much as Sunday and didn't get a heart attack of your own while playing your games," Elio added his own remark, only succeeding in bringing Silver Wolf's ire that hadn't totally gone away.

"Alright," Kafka smoothed things as she once again squeezed Silver Wolf's arm to remind her not to act up once more because even if Kafka wouldn't mind the unfolding drama out of a family sitcom happening between their group of criminals...

"As much fun it would be to see you arguing all day, aren't we suppose to have breakfast before it gets cold? Or is it too much to stay peaceful even before that?"

Silver Wolf grumbled but finally sat down on the table to pick on her slowly getting cold breakfast. Sunday had also sat down himself, still looking sheepish about what had just happened although he managed to keep his own calm throughout. Firefly, for her part, just sighed in relief although she threw some looks especially towards Sunday that he politely ignored. Blade remained aloof as ever, as if nothing went wrong whatsoever. Sometimes it felt like the galaxy could implode and he would still be working on his sword.

Kafka liked observing that way, looking at the other Stellaron Hunters and knowing that Elio, lounging around  the table in a humorously domestic affair, felt the same. Her eyes, of course, lingered longer towards Sunday who politely ate his meal and ignored her insistent stare. Unlike their first time in the ship, he made no moves to point out Kafka's rudeness. Considering how jittery he still felt from the energy drinks, he might be in no mood for whatever schemes the criminals will put him up on, which was frankly rude when he was also a criminal himself now.

Meals at their table had always been a quiet affair with how individualistic and unsociable the Stellaron Hunters can be, with Silver Wolf already taking out a  game console while picking at her food and Blade simply eating his own fare minding his own business. Sometimes Firefly watches Silver Wolf's gaming or joins in Kafka's observation and would be the first person to start any casual conversation other Stellaron Hunters don't mind indulging but more often than not, she could be as caught up in her own thoughts as Blade and with her lingering stare at Sunday, talking how she usually would might be the last thing on her mind.

It made Kafka curious enough to know the white haired girl's thoughts regarding their newest recruit and their dynamic at Penacony but that was not her story to tell nor to know and she was content enough to be in the dark. There was only forward that they could go, and in a comfortable silence despite their newest recruit's wariness towards the organization as common as that is considering the nature of their operations, Kafka wondered how long this could last.

Once the Stellaron Hunters almost finished up their meal, it was  time for her to bring up something imperative to their newest recruit. She had already observed Sunday long enough throughout breakfast and had an inkling about his stance after the work he had been put through from them all. It was enough to finally give her ideas and start the latest initiation every other Stellaron Hunter had been put through, whether Sunday liked it or not.

"Hey, Birdie. You ready for some shopping?" Kafka asked, although it sounded more like a statement than a question.

"Excuse me?" Sunday finally looked up from his food, startled to be addressed and a little slower to react from getting used to being buzzed by caffeine. The other Stellaron Hunters knew what would happen next and made no move to stop it, already knowing what fate awaited Sunday and how powerless it was to stop it.

"We are going out for shopping," Kafka repeated, emphasizing how this was something stated instead of asked, "You have been with us for a while now Birdie and on the run, you only left with the things on your back and living with us, it's time for you to somewhat settle here."

"I mean, you only have one set of clothing after your escape from Penacony. And in the long run, that is going to be incredibly inconvenient for you. Sure you have been borrowing some clothes from the rest of us, but you deserve your own set," Kafka drawled as Sunday simply looked at his clothing that he had continuously wore for the past few days except for the times that he borrowed outfits from the other Stellaron Hunters out of the script's neccesity. They had yet gone shopping for the threads that Sunday rightfully deserved. After the back to back missions Sunday had been getting to prove his mettle with their ragtag group and later on to deal with his... Aeonic issue, he had no more excuses to prolong the much deserved wardrobe change.

Much deserved as it was needed, because he was not going to get away from the authorities like that. Such a signature look that he would be spotted quite easily, so changing it up would do him wonders.

If there were any protests to be made, Kafka wouldn't know because she continued without anyone else's say, "And while we are shopping, you can pay back the energy drinks that you owe Silver Wolf. Anything else you want, he will get."

"Ooo~ Sounds promising. Lemme make up the list and even if I still do feel salty, this just might make us even," Silver Wolf said, as she mentally went through what she wanted.

Sunday looked a little lost at the sudden change of pace that he was experiencing but simply looked at Kafka with a raised brow. She simply smiled.

"Come on, there's no wrong with having fun in shopping."

***

And that's how the duo found themselves in the changing rooms with Sunday showing off the umpteenth outfit. Although Silver Wolf had accompanied them the first time, she showed little interest in clothes shopping and went off on her own once they made sure that Sunday paid back her energy drinks with credits he somehow does not run out of. If Kafka did not know any better, he might as well already have some untraceable bank account that could not be connected to the now criminal Sunday, useful for those in high position or hitting criminally rock bottom.

Now, Kafka could only stare at Sunday as her eyes roved throughout the costume in store as he waited for her opinion with such a surface level neutral mask that only cracked with his jittery state, eyebags and a fake smile that could only point out to a level of uneasiness.

She could not do much for his uneasiness and it wasn't in her nature to force him to enjoy himself for a more casual hangout. They had been browsing through a shopping mall, with a few disagreements with fashion choices. Sunday preferred pristine white like he usually wore while Kafka thought alluring black would suit Sunday better. While Sunday was not stubborn to reject Kafka's choices, his apprehensive look was enough for Kafka to rather find a compromise on clothing choices rather than just letting Sunday take her option while disregarding his own.

If a Stellaron Hunter member was going to slay with their new wardrobe choice to be reborn into a criminal, then they will slay with style and the confidence that goes with it.

However, Kafka was stubborn enough to reject Sunday's pure white choices which not only doesn't fit the Stellaron Hunter's aesthetics but just seemed too dull, too rooted to what he had been before.

Kafka's mission had been to make sure Sunday looked reborned. Although she was more of a coat collector than fashionista, she appreciated style and aesthetic as much as the next woman and she knew she wanted the clothes to reflect the message of the man. Of course, she knew she was not obligated to go that far or feel so much for a person she had admittedly known for a few days.

That didn't stop her just having fun from doing it. A girl's gotta get her amusement someway, somehow.

Sunday's exasperation only made Kafka smiled wider the moment she shook her head at Sunday's display. He frowned at the face of the smile and almost pointedly said despite his politeness, "If I didn't know any better, you just want me to suffer like this before we could even pick a choice outfit for me."

"Why I never," Kafka continued smiling, "Suffer like what? We just need to pick the right outfit for you, you know? Or will any old outfit do?"

"Suffer like what, you ask. When we have gone through at least five shops and tried ten times each of the outfits there? I don't think even my sister's designers were picky when it came to the costumes she had to wear for her next show," Sunday said.

"Oh, did Silver Wolf's sense of drama and exaggeration rub off you, or is that entirely your own personality? Who knew?" Kafka continued the banter and Sunday's frown deepened, ending the conversation simply by shutting the door of the changing room to get back to his original clothes. Of course, he came out and had to continue their conversation.

Sunday also messed around the filter perception bangle on hand while looking around, and said, "Neither. Forgive me if I don't want to hang around any longer out in the open considering our wanted status no matter what preparations we make. So really, any old outfit would have done."

"You really need to lighten up a little, Birdie," Kafka said, returning the clothes to an assistant as they make another browse through in this particular store before they might have another bust and move to another store in the vast shopping mall, "If any old outfit would do, why didn't you go for my choices?"

Sunday must have noted that Kafka did not bother commenting about his paranoia of wanted criminals strolling outdoors and taking their sweet time out and away like they would not be met with fight, fear and arrest the moment someone notices who they really were. Kafka did not bother calming down this particular paranoia when such wetblanking is something just to fast get over the longer one is in this lifestyle. Even criminals should have the luxury and freedom to live like the civilians they still can act as no matter what status they truly hold.

"Miss Kafka, we are choosing outfits for me, not for you," Sunday rebutted, as he looked through the racks to any clothes that caught his fancy only for Kafka to stay his hand in her disapproval. She could already see the exasperation in his face but she just smiled as a person long used to this. Sunday might not be an easy person to dress up but neither was he difficult, with her previous experiences helping fellow Stellaron Hunter members with this initiation for the final result that satisfied both. Kafka had always been patient.

Sunday seemed to be a bit quicker to lose his patience but reacted more calmly about the holdup than either Firefly or Blade when she helped them choose their outfits out from the old, unusable ones that their past had left them.

"Were you always this difficult when choosing outfits? Did choosing outfits for Mr. Blade, Miss Firefly and Miss Silver Wolf take this long?" Sunday asked, as idle small talk when they were not going anywhere with the outfits.

"What you call difficult, I would prefer throughness," Kafka easily engaged in conversation, "And as for how long it took for the others in picking outfits, they really weren't as fussy. Although all of them did not appreciate me being through with outfit selection until we were both satisfied, especially Bladie~"

A shopping trip shouldn't be as deadly as drawing guns and swords at each other but at least Kafka always had a way to pacify the swordsman before things got too hectic. How was she supposed to know that Blade's patience would easily run thin from outfit selections? Thankfully, she never had to resort to such measures for the other Hunters, exasperated at her antics but following along regardless with their new lease of life. Sunday following the mold made it easier and yet a little boring to her taste.

"So it took them as long," Sunday sighed, looking up as if resigned to the fate he was dealt with and even used to it, "Although I doubt that not one of them hadn't agreed or gone for your choices first rather than this little fight we are having."

"How cute you are to call something this small a fight~" Kafka teased because if she was fighting in any shape or form, the other side would undoubtedly already feel a strange of unease be it fear or rarely anger against her but what she saw for Sunday, the exasperation and resignation. Those never shown on her opponent's face, because she seemed to get stronger emotions to rise on a person rather than weak resignation whenever she fought. She wondered why.

"Regardless, your doubts are right. Neither Firefly nor Bladie actually put much of a fuss with clothes. Firefly even seem eager, and we finished agreeing on the clothes with the first try. But of course, the first try wouldn't be enough when outfits should come with variety especially for a young girl like her to keep up with the trends. She just didn't have much stamina to keep up but it was an amiable end, I swear~"

"As for Bladie, he just doesn't appreciate a girl's drive to explore every option until the last. He wanted to leave quickly the moment he found suitable clothing but at the very least he listened to me about the advantages of a varying set and we had some fun for a while..." Kafka trailed off, reminiscing the more fun times she had with the Hunters. It was a nice nostalgic memory lane.

"He listened to you," Sunday repeated, emphasizing on the listen part and she knew he understood what she had done to Blade. She just nodded, because she had nothing to hide. A brief look crossed Sunday's face before it had gone back to the neutral and tired state.

She didn't even need Elio to predict that Sunday would probably get eyebags by the end of the week. For now, she decided to dig into his little irony.

"And what's so wrong in making people listen to me? You certainly have made others listen to you, in your line of work as the Family Head," Kafka said, and Sunday's lip pursed. He could have ignored her entirely, he could have rudely dropped the subject by stating it was none of her business.

"Truthfully, I have listened to people more than they have listened to me. All my life, I might have surrounded myself with a plehtora of stubborn people that lead me rather than me leading them right up until being appointed to Family Head. There is a lot of push and pull and while people have listened to me, more often than not some might not follow through. So I see myself more of a listener than someone who makes people listen."

Instead, he carried on the conversation without spilling into specifics. A snippet of life without much context that would make anyone curious and dig for details, details that Sunday would not share. He could play along with idle talk without sprucing up the details.

"Don't you want people to listen to you?" Kafka asked.

"Who doesn't want that at least once, Miss Kafka?" Sunday asked lightly, letting the answer be more general than personal. Not wanting to open up to a group of criminals made sense, even for a newly minted one who was about to work with said group of criminals.

Again, Kafka was patient. Just like finding the right clothes, she can wait for Sunday to truly show himself. For someone who can resist listening to her, finding out would be its own brand of fun that she can indulge in.

Before Kafka could even think to continue this line of conversation to gauge what she can pry out of Sunday, his eyes stuck towards clothes on a rack and his hand started to rove around them. No words came out of his mouth and his eyes widened at the display he entranced himself to.

"Hmm, this is the first time that you were struck speechless by the clothes. Why has this particular one caught your eye?" Kafka asked, examining the outfit herself. It had partly white and night blue long overcoat, with long black pants dotted with what seemed like white stars. There were also black gloves with a star like pattern. The outfit could do with extra accessories but otherwise Kafka found herself leaning that they were finally off to the right direction.

"The... stars, I guess. The outfit reminded me of a galaxy, a starry sky," Sunday said, "One that my sister and I look upon countless times..."

Kafka didn't comment. She could have, she could prod further, her observation could even go further piecing the puzzle of their newest recruit with Aeonic power in his veins.

She only smiled at him and decided to ask, "So, why not try it now?"

Sunday did not even hesitate, and they were left with what Sunday has described as a galaxy themed outfit of half dark blue and white with twinkling stars here and there. It was neither Sunday's pure white aesthetic nor Kafka's alluring black and yet it felt like the best of both worlds that spoke out to Sunday's style, his newest  style that Kafka can get behind with.

"That really looks good on you," Kafka finally said, idly ignoring Sunday's surprise when he inspected himself in the mirror again. It was great that they could find a compromise in this outfit which Sunday had insisted on paying even though with the both of them together, they could have used their powers to get so much for free. Sunday, with a deadpan expression, did not advocate for power abuse.

In their line of work, power abuse was something commonplace that he should get use to. No criminal lives long as an innocent civilian when they forfeited that right in felony. She also did not point out the irony about power abuse on Sunday's part when she was sure he dabbled in his fair share during his reign as a Family Leader. No one lives such a clean life that they had not gotten their hands dirty.

"You are really amusing," Kafka remarked, as they still wandered around the streets with the intent to find a cafe to rest their (Sunday's) sore legs and get a bite before the rendezvous with Silver Wolf and going home.

"And where did that come from, Miss Kafka?" Sunday asked, steering her away from any other stores to prevent another shopping spree from happening after he had enough with his own clothes selection.

"Being upright despite how far you have fallen. Why bother having a semblance of a clean life and not abusing power when that will be your lifestyle from now on?" Kafka asked bluntly. Sunday's hackles did not rise to the bait.

"It is my choice on how to live, is it not?" Sunday only stated, short and final with his eyes around the mall. Getting a continuining conversation out of the man especially when it came to prying some fun facts about him was like pulling teeth but Kafka had dealt with the likes of Blade so it should not be that hard. But then again, Sunday does not listen to Kafka like how Blade does.

She guessed it would be a long while until she gotten the full picture, out of someone who willingly cooperates and yet maintains a highly cautious stance towards her. Wasn't that something?

To his relief surely, they found a cafe and wasted no time ordering a light snack. She raised her brows at the sugary concoction that he was bringing himself into, to the point that the server taking their orders asked for Sunday's reconsideration / confirmation. His eyes were dead serious when he stated there was nothing to reconsider and confirmed his order

"Should have taken you for a sweet tooth," Kafka remarked, once more trying to stir up another conversation to fill up the silence that hides truth in its privacy, "When you have completely rejected coffee to keep you alive and awake."

"I already said coffee doesn't work for me, just being unsuited for my palate. It was for the better I suppose, so that people never had the chance to joke about how my soul is as black as coffee," Sunday said, eyes lighting up in memory but unknown whether it's fondness or just slight reminiscence. The lit up eyes darkened a second later, indicating more bittersweetness before returning back to neutral state he especially adopted towards Kafka, a wariness and caution that Kafka found flattering considering how she is.

"Do people really want to joke something like that towards you? How would they even get the chance?" Kafka asked, thinking about Sunday's profile as a Family Head and finally realised that-

"I do attend parties every now and then to secure relationships for Penacony's sake. I have also attended parties as my sister's plus one for her idol ventures and sometimes, less... savoury characters would prefer to get under my skin and take a jibe at me," Sunday answered, filling the blanks for Kafka.

There were times that Sunday let out snippets of his life like that but it was stated more as a fact without much emotion, whether jibes truly bothered him or what he thought about parties overall.

The only time Sunday can continue a conversation what when he can detach anything personal from it. Factual and to the point.

And not altogether interesting.

"Did those people think you have a bitter soul, oh benevolent leader?" Kafka asked, and Sunday smiled but did not answer as he looked around away from Kafka.

Still pulling teeth.

Their orders came swiftly, and Kafka knew that after this, they would have rested enough, reconvene with Silver Wolf and then go home.

That's what Sunday would think. But life would rarely be as simple as that, such cold exterior and dull actions needing a little thawing and fun~

"Oh, Miss Ariadne? Finally found you."

The cafe had entered a lull, away from its more busy periods as few customers lounged around the store so when a lone man entered the place calling out with eyes set on Kafka, there was no error for mistake.

Sunday looked briefly surprised, eyes wide at Kafka but when she made no movement to the man surely making his ways towards them, she could see Sunday willing calm and stared deeply at Kafka, knowing it was her call.

Gladly. New doors will open. Did Kafka plan this? Somewhat. Did the universe? Who knows. But regardless, when life moves forward, opportunities can be inevitable one way or another.

"It really is you Miss Ariadne, and who might that be?" the man asked, looking at Sunday.

"A friend of mine," Kafka said smoothly, as she looked at Sunday expecting him to introduce himself. Obviously, he would not give out the name Sunday unless he wanted to get arrested but being put on the spot, he had to blurt out the name most suitable as an alias at that moment.

"You can call me Raven," Sunday said, offering his hand towards the man who shook it firmly.

"Lyon, pleasure to meet you. Hmm, calling you Raven. The way you say it makes it sound like an alias instead of a real name," Lyon said, raising his brow but Sunday was undeterred, could not be deterred when he was walking a fine line of freedom.

"Is Raven too unique to believe it a false name? Then what about superstar Robin?" Sunday gave a small laugh, "I believe you are reading into this too much."

"I guess my observation can be a bit out of line," Lyon conceded, looking at the free chair next to both Kafka and Sunday who were sitting opposite of each other. Kafka waved at the seat with a smile and although Sunday had a quick baffled expression before forcing it immediately back to a polite expression, he simply followed her lead.

"It's a good thing that I ran into you, Miss Ariadne," Lyon said, "There's another favour I would like you to do."

"How many favours has it been before you ask me for yet another? Should I start a tab?" Kafka teased and the man lightly smiled in exasperation, letting Kafka think that whatever favour the man wanted to ask was nothing too dire.

"One day, I will repay you surely but not today when your vast connections have been really important and life-saving more than once," Lyon jolly laughed, and such reaction told Kafka that nothing too dire hit its mark. Although desparation made for a more interesting story, she could play casual.

"You are too kind, Mr. Lyon," Kafka responded, "So why don't you get straight to it and tell me what kind of connections you favor from me? I remember you racking up quite a few on your plate that I am still finding suitable people to listen to my offers~"

Kafka could really hear the cogs turning in Sunday's minds, the moment she sprinkled in a few keywords that would grab his attention and which remain mundane to others unless they know who she really is. The contrast between Sunday and Lyon's demeanor was a sight to behold, even when the former was making sure it looked like nothing was out of the blue.

"Well, the orchestral group that received my patronage cannot wait any longer for a conductor understudy that they desparately need to train before their big show in two weeks. Of course, there is hoping that nothing happening to the conductor but they are a group to err at the side of caution and an understudy was a necessity that they have been lacking hope to find. Time is of the essence, Miss Ariadne and if you know anyone musically inclined with some experience to join this endeavor..."

"Aren't you in luck?" Kafka smiled indulgently, "Raven here might meet all of your requirements, being musically inclined. While not in orchestra, I am certain you have some talent in conducting, correct?" 

"I... wait, you mean you want me to be an understudy for an orchestral conductor and potentially replacing them? Miss Ka- Miss Ariadne???" Sunday asked, surprise literally laced in his features.

"Don't think I haven't noticed Raven," Kafka said, "It's simply what you call an opportunity. Getting a new lease at life is hard for everyone but you might as well be aware of the options you have in front of you. At least consider whether you want to take it as an option or not."

"For Miss Ariadne to suggest you as such, an interview might be in order with the group so you can have a great feel with each other. How would you feel about this, Mr. Raven?" Lyon asked, already thinking this was a done deal but asking regardless for the sake of politeness. Sunday looked back and forth between Kafka and Lyon, before his eyes had an edge of steel towards Kafka's own eyes that she could only return cooly.

"This is quite sudden, and I will certainly think about it but I want to discuss more with Miss Ariadne privately to know why she put me up to this. Honestly, it has come quite a shock," Sunday finally said.

"Oh, take all your time that you need. I will just go order something, and give you all the time you need until you are ready to discuss more," Lyon said amiably, standing up and going to the counter in line out of their earshot.

"There must be more of a reason why you want me to be an understudy conductor in this farce, Miss Kafka," Sunday said, once they were back to their lonesomes without any preamble.

Sunday picked up quick, but honestly he was way too paranoid. Well, for someone who fell from high up, maybe that was more than expected.

"Is there really any need for a reason?" Kafka asked languidly, head resting on her hands as she eyed Sunday for any reaction, "I meant it when I said that this will give you a great opportunity for the new lease of life. After all, it wouldn't be wrong for you to pick up your alter civilian identity away from the criminal life with hobbies along the way. Unless I was wrong in thinking this wouldn't suit you?"

"How would you know that being an orchestral conductor would suit me?" Sunday narrowed his eyes.

"It's just a guess, something to try out but if you are asking why I felt you suitable other than just a guess, Firefly told me about when you had ascended as... the Great Septimus, wasn't it? Your way of conducting the puppets in battle might translate well in orchestral conducting, don't you think?"

Sunday only gave a deadpan stare, a slight twitch but not commenting on Kafka's remark. Instead he said, "I will give it a go, but there is no surefire way that I will make it past the interviews, Miss Kafka."

"So you are going to give it a go? Interested, after all?" Kafka asked.

"... I would be lying if I said I wasn't. But is this coincidential, truly out of the goodness of one's heart or, something more?" Sunday asked, realizing that the facts he had right now might not be the full picture, "After all, what is the benefit in this for you?"

"Did you really think that I did this for you for benefit? How lowly do you think of us criminals," Kafka batted her eyes and Sunday looked a little sheepish at his own statement as if that quick remark was simply unfiltered thought that was now understood as rude upon realization.

"Although now that you mention it," Kakfa's eyes twinkled mischieviously and an undisguised look of dread crossed Sunday's features, "I did tell you that it was an opportunity for a new lease of life and when I said that, it also meant the perfect opportunity to understand what the criminal life means as a Stellaron Hunter member. After all, in two weeks whether you remain an understudy or become a conductor yourself, there would be this lavish concert where we can..."

"That is nuts!" Sunday declared after Kafka finished explaining a few details about the heist that would go unknown for the larger audience in the name of element of surprise, and she didn't even bother to say anything for or against it just giving an elusive smile, "Why are you doing this?"

"Why not? It has nothing to do with the script, don't you worry about it. But here's a little taste for you what individual Stellaron Hunters do on their own free time," Kafka said.

"What? More crime? Unnecessary crime out of nowhere?" Sunday's eyes narrowed. Kafka laughed.

"It's more than that, birdie. But they do say that once you have gotten your hands on dirty money, clean money just doesn't feel the same. It's no different with what I want either," Kafka said, "But it's really fine when what you are doing would only just to be a distraction while you turn a blind eye," Kafka said.

It was something of an extension to their shopping, and a way to get Sunday having a day off after the first few hectic days of initiation and script work but in the end, she left the decision purely to Sunday even if it may seem an illusion of choice. All she had to do was wait for an answer.

It seemed Sunday understood that too and in brief thought, he finally said:

"... Alright."

He may be a little boring but it was nice he was trying to let loose. A fine time to understand a Stellaron Hunter's daily life.

Chapter Text

Sunday was going to tally up more crime these days, but at least this wasn't on his tab. Not really. At least that's what he will keep saying to himself. At least he will make sure something good will come out of this.

He couldn't believe what he was going to do. He couldn't believe how he had gotten into this situation.

And yet, he accepted, didn't he? For no more reason than letting himself play into Kafka's games despite the distance he wanted to maintain betweeen his fellow co-workers. For taking the opportunities to broaden his horizons for what they were and indulging paths offered up to him to find most suitable, as his dreams had so far opened up 'potential futures' as Mr. Bun Bun aptly described.

Sunday no longer sleeps but that doesn't do away the dreams that, from the silences in drifting off and the golden strings still racing to get ahold of him. He cannot remember everything, but one would be inclined to the curiosity for the paths before them, in the decisions that were made whether right or wrong. It didn't mean backtracking, as far as Sunday was concerned, and yet who's to say he shall be stuck in a single faction? Who's to say he cannot try dabbling in multiple lives, and simply trying for an orchestral conductor, making such a profile outside of criminal former Oak head Sunday... was tempting.

Occassionally, he could still see the flashing reels. The fleeting thought about what the future could hold for him was too much, and whether good or bad, of his own making, he had seen flashes. Of what could be, of what could still, of everything and nothing.

A lone traveller. A criminal. On the train. An offer from a knight. Working in a corporation. Running away from Fools. A musician. A conspirator. A priest. A puppeteer. A double agent. A mediator. Everything. Nothing.

Nevermore. Or is it truly?

Still, he honestly had no experience as an orchestratal conductor, so how was he going to fare in such a last minute job? Still, he did accept it. It didn't stop him from thinking how ridiculous it is.

The only reason why anyone else didn't think it was ridiculous was because the group Sunday had to conduct with his unknown skills were extremely trustful to the scout that picked Sunday up. In fact, although there seemed to be a high probability that the understudy would have to rise the stage, Sunday would be taught under the original conductor for the prepared emergencies.

As predicted, it took the fortnight for Sunday to familiarize himself with the group as well as train up to the understudy they desire. Despite his reservations to the inclined musical talent Kafka had preached to the rest that he had, conducting puppets and his 'play' as the Great Septimus didn't come for naught when applying to the actual orchestral conducting he practiced.

"Are you sure that you never had any conductor training whatsoever?" The conductor himself, asked during the first few days when Sunday had done his best executing the original style and taking few liberties to any gaps he had missed so far. The melody coming out of it, and the cohesiveness of the group seemed to be more passable to the conductor's eyes for such a statement.

"No," Sunday gave a simple answer, a truth because he had no training whatsoever being flooded instead with training to be an Oak head, heir to what the Dreamaster needed for a continued legacy and what Sunday would eventually come to terms and strive for when it comes to Penacony's future and the people's well-being. A way to pursue and achieve dreams that Robin otherwise could not do.

"I don't believe that," one of the violonist spoke up, and Sunday could only chucke softly at the disbelief.

"I can at least say that I am self-taught," Sunday allowed, "But of course that is nothing compared to the professionals before me."

How many times had he tried creating bands for Robin to boost her confidence, putting up the baton and imagining how it would all go to give the best performance ever. How much did he wonder what it would be like being the Chordmaster and summoning Dominicus even when he truly wanted Robin to achieve that and a few times putting himself in those shoes?

Whimsical fantasies in the end.

"You don't give yourself enough credit," the conductor, now referred by Sunday as a mentor in the latest avenue he found himself roped in, said, "Let's take it once more to the top. If anything happens, then at least I can be rest assured that everyone would be put in good hands."

Even so, whatever ailed the conductor had not shown itself throughout the training and midway the fortnight deadline, Sunday's curiosity had been boundless to catch his mentor during break just for answers about the need for an understudy and what he had heard about the high probability that Sunday had to take up the stage in the mentor's steed.

Unsurprisingly so, he was not about to get any satisfactory answers:

"What? Did you expect me to keel over and get sick and suddenly the understudy is thrusted to the spotlight? Well, considering how people were expecting any news for you taking over my role, that wouldn't be a surprising assumption but I assure you those rumors are exaggerated."

"Rumors? Exaggerated?" Sunday asked, eyebrow raised towards the mentor. The orchestra he found himself was at the cusp of fame, well done to make a living and have devoted fans but not enough to yet be acknowledged by entire galaxies. At the very least, he wouldn't expect any propaganda or rumours to be widely spread out to the point of exaggeration in favour of more famous artists and their woes. In other words, this was the first time Sunday was hearing this.

"Nothing for you to worry about," the mentor calmly dismissed Sunday's question in a way enough to make anyone skeptical of the person before them, "I will admit that there is a personal business of mine that might hinder me completely standing up on stage for multiple acts to come midway but there is always a hope such can never come to pass."

"And before you ask anything more," the mentor continued the moment Sunday opened his mouth, "It is part of the personal business that I hope would stay private."

Sunday was tactiturn enough to know when to drop the subject, but was surprised at how suspicious the mentor wanted to act. Considering the additional fact that Kafka wanted to throw a heist during the well-meaning and yet increasingly shady orchestra's performance, Sunday felt that when the day comes, what he got himself into would naturally reveal itself from being a simple job.

'Figures that Miss Kafka couldn't even let me have a sense of normalcy, but then again, who's fault is it that this job was accepted in the first place?' Sunday thought, 'Still, it might make the job a little more worthwhile, if whatever gets uncovered could use a helping hand. Everyone should have a chance towards their ideal ends in this harsh reality.'

It was always the little things and the unfortunate obvious suspicion that the mentor was putting onto himself for a simple taking as an understudy that having more than meets the eye frustrated Sunday only because he wished, for once, his life wasn't such a conspiracy. He would literally throw Elio into fire if he somehow has the influence to dropkick his Hunters into nonsensical conspirational destinies that disallow the notion of a boring and mundane life.

Kafka would call it fun but Sunday would beg to differ. Still, with the fortnight up and in the grand stage of things, with what little he realized in the past two weeks, there was no turning back now. He could reminisce the past two weeks like a training montage transcribed as a neat little essay like it's something people would be interested to know but why bother, because even when the training had stuck and improved Sunday's skill to the point the mentor could proudly entrust the orchestra to him like a legacy should anything happen, those days had blurred well enough that nothing significant came to mind.

Normally Sunday would be known to have better memory than that, but honestly, his excuse was simple:

"I am surprise that you have never keeled on us yet," Sunday was thrusted coffee right in front of his nose which his eyes narrowed at, "Especially when you don't sleep and don't subscribe to coffee to get through the days. Even when you are not going to perform with us, it wouldn't do for the understudy to fall asleep in front of our hardwork that we put our heart and soul into."

Sunday stared at the violonist that he had somehow gotten chummy with since day one, who tasked themselves as Sunday's keeper the moment he was somehow admired for his natural talent in conducting that was enough for them to keep close to Sunday and notice his out-of-it moments due to lack of sleep resulting in coffee runs that he politely took which kept continuing despite his constant reminder that he disliked coffee for its bitterness.

Even though coffee was still thrusted in front of him, the violonist never gave up trying to get Sunday to try, with additional milk and sugar to cover up the bitterness without losing the caffeine that naturally helps one stay awake. Sunday usually doesn't know why coffee had to be tried in such manner but the earnest insistence and the determination to make it better for Sunday just resulted in grudgingly accepting it with a sentiment well received regardless.

In response, or despite such response, Sunday reciprocated by relating with their common interest in the violin and learning more through each other about the musical instrument.

Of course, this does not mean he made any friends with the mentor and violonist, needing no such thing when this was going to be a hit and run job of his fellow co-worker's design that he just infiltrated for the sake of it. Friendship here was never going to be any long lasting as the coffee that he finally took up and drank, the bittersweetness of it all lacing his tongue and as usual, having no effect on him.

"I am quite sure that you haven't even seen me dozing off during our training sessions to even believe that I will actually start now on a grand event like this," Sunday stated, now holding the empty coffee cup in an attempt to fiddle with his hands for the lack of anything, "You didn't have to indulge in this pointless coffee run when you and everyone else are due on stage any moment soon. Do you think it time to linger around here when others are certainly waiting for you?"

"The show starting soon doesn't mean there isn't enough time for one more small chat. Would it be crazy if I said that talking to you just helps settle my nerves which is why I do have time to linger around here?"

"Me, settling your nerves? How is that?" Sunday asked. They wouldn't known each other long enough compared to the rest of their peers in the orchestra group that Sunday turned out the first one the violonist would turn to.

"Maybe it is just your aura. Or the fact that you are new here so you might be the least judgemental if I ever slip up or say anything unnecessary."

"Should you even feel comfortable on saying anything unnecessary in front of me? Even if I gave off the non-judgemental impression, I am not completely part of the team that anything private hidden away from me could just be casually revealed without any consequences," Sunday said slowly, hiding his wariness that such a statement might hit closer to home than could ever be imagined.

"And what if I wanted those consequences?" the violonist surprisingly sprouted out, "Even you must have picked up how weird our dear conductor is being and how shifty this performance might be. It's something like an open secret..."

Sunday schooled his expression to a neutral one, ignoring the obvious signs of how suspicious everyone wanted to act and what they wanted him to see. If it was as much as an open secret and that there was nothing he could do except keeping the ball rolling...

"Hm, then what do you expect out of this performance?" Sunday asked. It might seem out of  the blue, but it would help frame everything that would go on since.

"A miraculous performance, no matter what Raven," the violonist answered, unsurprised by the question. And that might as well be just enough of an answer.

***

The information that Sunday retained in the fortnight had been relayed to Kafka in the meeting before the big heist day, one about his speculations while telegraphing his suspicion through narrow eyes about how much she might have known about the shady plight that they thrusted themselves into. Of course, Kafka didn't even bother to answer, giving an indulgent smile as if such suspicions weren't even worth addressing and quite beneath her in the first place.

Instead, it just led Kafka to confirmation in events that she told Sunday to 'figure out yourself after rubbing  shoulders with them' whenever he asked but did let him know about the heist plans that she had come up with, roping a few Hunters into the plot that Sunday had noticed were more used to these shennanigans than one would think. Is this really how Hunters spend their downtime, seriously doing more crime? Did they want their bounty to just go higher like it was a game for them?

Sunday, of course, will deny any affirmation to the questions he just posited, happy enough that except for the initial hubbub that he managed and will still remain lowkey until his own bounty and criminal record will become a fading nightmare as people put their feet forward to reality that would not care for evils that are not happening in future.

Back on topic, the heist was simple on paper, even though reality might consider it more complicated to implement. Sunday at backstage, waiting for a signal. Kafka and Firefly at the audience, waiting for slight slips and the getaway driver Blade. It almost felt phantom thief-esque like Leblanc the Meteor Thief that had once been very popular despite some criticism and controversy to an otherwise well loved franchise. Not that Sunday got the hype but if the Stellaron Hunters were going to keep doing such crazy things in their downtime, it might be something worth referencing.

Right now, Sunday was determined to stick to his role awaiting anything unusual that could present itself as a signal when the orchestra were going to commit themselves to multiple acts throughout five different musical pieces that Sunday had learned by heart portraying something similar to the five act structure seen in many stories from exposition, rising action, climax, falling action and resolution.

It should be unsurprising that it was at the start of the climax that something went amiss. Sunday had noticed during the rising action of new people walking into the audience and edging towards the front, knowing that Kafka and Firefly would undoubtedly also pick this up. Sunday knew he had to carefully look at the performance, noting the finger movements throughout the conducting from the mentor that differed from practice and as the rising action heightened up for the climax, bravado and glamour was what hidden away a total shift needed to be done.

Fog from hidden smoke screens settled on stage and even when the orchestra still played without missing the beat, the conductor faltered before a trapdoor bellow opened its maw and in surprise, dropped all the way down. And even then, the orchestra didn't falter in their music, transistioning from rising action to climax. He also noticed the violonist looking at Sunday, eyes screaming for that lone answer given in the backstage wings.

A miraculous performance. No matter what.

'That the show must go on,' Sunday thought as he used the smokescreen to run through the stage and hiding himself well enough to take the conductor's place and add a little flair to his own style transistioning change. Making the acts diverse and that this was all part of the act.

Later, he wouldn't know what Kafka and Firefly would be doing. The conductor's fate. This farce of a play. As he lifted his baton high, he wished for the happy ending, to know and create miracles. To lay out the paradise that they all hope for, after the mere fortnight he had spent with the orchestra, the mentor that had taught him well and the violonist who offered well wishes of 'no matter what.' His fellow Hunters who were just following along Kafka and Kafka with the thick of things in her own agenda and yet with an opportunity to let this be smooth sailing without too dire a consequences.

He was wishing for too much, making it no different when he was entangled with the Order and subsequently defeated by the Nameless. And yet however his allusions to the Order dissipating and that the methods to his dreams had been rejected to be left for dead, the dreams themselves, the simplistic promise for the paradise in dreams was like a vow to the sun.

Experiencing much and living away from what he had been sheltered from, with revelations upon many, that singular fact did not change. The circumstances did not change, and as he was reaching mid-climax, back to the audience and eyes roving around the orchestra for a hint of anything or feeling below his feet to what was happening downwards, Sunday wanted to do more. 

... cannot... escape...

Gold light suddenly burst forth, surprising everyone but not enough to falter the music played for their dear audience, even when said gold light came from the baton to bathe the room almost gently and bursting forth... Ms. Halo. Sunday was surprised with such an appearance, seven of them and so ethereal but he felt like he had seen them before. Four of them during his battle with the Astral Express when he had taken over Dominicus and became the Great Septimus but they had increased to three more. For seven...

It doesn't feel like Ms. Halo...

"Who are you?" Sunday muttered, even when they were aiding in this particular orchestral affair that Sunday should probably be concentrating more on.

There was no answer, and yet a feeling as they floated around, in tune to his baton although they felt more familiar with a-

-book. A lone book emblazoned with his halo symbol that looked like an old journal of his, was probably an old journal restored to new where he had written down everyone of his teaching from his days with Mr. Gopher Wood over and over again. And also about the Harmony, and his sister, and what made Sunday... Sunday. A book representing everything of him, and what he uses as a channel for his powers from the bathing golden light, the feathers that come out of it that was kept within like his special Robin card signed specifically for him along with those seven dolls, angels that have always been by his side since childhood.

It was... different from how he would battle with his baton, toys and birds. An aspect about Sunday's life as a priest, where the book channels out glowing halos to attack enemies, assist others in team as support like how his sister would being both endowed in Harmony and-

Sunday was pleasantly surprised that he didn't keel over like how the violonist worried and was able to get through the climax fine for the preluding falling action despite the episodes that seeem to haunt him ever since his knowing and that small, bold voice that reminded him of THEM.

So many dreams that portrayed themselves as multiverses, so many parallels that can trigger these type of thing and make THEM ever so louder even in the middle of something important. It might seem obstructive and even annoyingly unnecessary but Ms. Halo's appearance was a response to his wishes, as he moved the baton not only to the orcheestral movements but towards what can be seen through the angels that weaved above and bellow the stage.

He saw Kafka and Firefly among lightning pink strings in a different set audience and a new stage, with the conductor atop said stage with a presenter to boundless jewels and treasures. Anticipation and surprise in the air as a glowing light gently bathed them and...

Sunday knew what to do. Sunday knew what was going on.

That in the end, it was all a front to a black market scheme, with the understudy taking stage for the conductor who fell for such scam in the beginning. So far the orchestra could play it off as intentional for the multiple acts to switch from one conductor to another in smooth procession. It meant the orchestral team except the understudy might be in the know, but Sunday intends to keep his promises.

The falling action, a period after the dramatic confrontation of a climax in its wake revealing everything and now time to act as he swung his baton around and the angels moved.

The angels caused havoc swooping in the audience and upending the peace, causing the security to come in clutch but causing the strings to also move in tandem. If thorns had also crept within, then none the wiser when people were in full blown panic and Kafka and SAM had decided to jump into action, to steal the jewels. And for the conductor?

The resolution, an ending to the entire thing much to the audience's applause and at the tailwind of the end...

Kafka and SAM were escaping from the security personel chasing them, with strings and weapons alike enough to keep them at bay. Angels, golden strings and thorns were also helpful in the blinding light, especially when the angels went to the conductor, in comfort, and lifted up...

The light became blinding at the very end, that for once, the orchestra stopped playing for a breath when they cannot see their instruments and risk a wrong note, even shielding the eyes and stilling the hands until the lights dimmed, for orchestra, audience and even the conductor instead of the understudy that had taken place were surprised at the scenario playing before them.

Yet, the show must go on and the conductor still knew how to finish with the flourish intended. The audience cheers believing everything from start to finish was a performance, the orchestra attended an afterparty looking for the understudy and garnering nothing except a confusing yet glorious night, an intended miraculous performance and gratefulness for a smooth sailing day without anyone getting hurt. The aftermath was an uncovering black market scheme, the conductor being made out a victim to use the performance as a cover for it and while having reprecussions at least escaping from the black market that had blackmailed him into this.

And throughout it all, four people had gotten away with all the jewels and treasures that only mattered to one, even when she turned to the back where the missing understudy Sunday was with a grin and asked:

"How did you like that?"

He thought about the lone voice, about the angels and that blinding light.

He also thought about the two weeks he spent with music, with the violinist and conductor, and the entire performance from start to finish.

"I honestly don't think I'm cut out for crime," Sunday sighed.

"Says the person with the Order conspiracy, breaking into the IPC and starskiff prisoner transport, and responsible for crashing multiple vehicles to date. Also helping with this heist," Kafka smirked.

Sunday only returned with a flat stare, not even rescinding the statement.

"There's only so long one can live in denial," Blade muttered that made Sunday stare straight at him through the mirror and with Firefly besides him giving a small nod in his peripheral vision, he was doing his best keeeping a neutral face but it apparently didn't work well enough when Kafka laughed.

"Don't worry Birdie. I am sure there are many opportunities that would break you out of this denial~" Kafka teased and Sunday refused to give any of the Hunters any pleasure in a form of response. Really, they were the first people besides his sister that teased him like this.

Too bad he can't say that he hated it.

***

Sunday had returned to the Stellaron Hunter's apartment, only to be greeted by a lone cat rubbing themselves on his legs.

"Just who I needed to see," Sunday muttered as the cat jauntily moved around while he took a seat at the dining table which Elio followed him to, jumping lightly on top of the table.

Kafka, Firefly and Blade had already retreated into their rooms for the rest and recuperation they required even with a heist as simplistic as the one they had enacted out of one Hunter's whim. Something that seemed unnecessarily annoying and yet a way to let loose and figure things out.

How he would get sucked deeper into the abyss. The angels, the strings and thorns. That journal.

A dream. A vision. A possible reality.

"Am I really a Stellaron Hunter?" Sunday asked out of the blue towards Elio but the cat seemed to take it in stride as he walked closer to Sunday on the table, eyes staring right up at Sunday's own.

"Oh, you asking that means there is a reason that you don't believe so. Despite already having a script at hand and accepting my invitation," Elio said, not really answering the question requiring a more in-depth explanation from Sunday for any further elaboration so Sunday did.

"This is too early an assumption to think myself otherwise, but circumstances given me foresight for other paths in my life and a few things that struck me unbelievable insofar that I prefer having a definitive answer from you, and as destiny's slave for a particular ending, definitive answers might be what I can get from you," Sunday preluded, catching Elio's attention enough to decide to continue without fanfare.

"There were few crimes at the very beginning that could have presented the galaxies my  current affliation such as the IPC breakout and that meeting with Mr. Aventurine but the script never states for a flashy entrance to credit to the Stellaron Hunters. Even with my affliation to the wanted members, it had been made sure I do not have any relation with any of them whatsoever throughout my crimes with them so far and putting a question mark to my status, only being known as the 'lunatic former Oak Head' Sunday instead of 'Stellaron Hunter' Sunday."

"And even with my current association with the Hunters, it is almost like I could be seen as separate from them in the crimes commited so far. From the IPC breakout, the starskiff prison transport crash and this simple heist. And your script has always focused on my development to this end that you have wanted, the effects it has for the machinations you are coming up with but never really expands on anything else otherwise. I could go on but I rather get my definitive answer."

Elio remained quiet, unblinking feline eyes towards Sunday's own that refused to lose this staredown before the cat lazily blinked first and said:

"You are not wrong that the universe has not labeled you a Hunter yet, now or even the near future. Whether that means you are really a Hunter or not is up to definition but as long as the universe does not perceive you a Hunter yet, then without any labels, you are still technically free to be anything you want to be by the universe's eye."

"How else can I give you infinite possibilities as I promised if I tie you down in one place? A Hunter doesn't need the name alone to get what they are promised," Elio continued, and Sunday narrowed his eyes at the confirmation of vagueness that Elio finally eluded.

"Just like how a certain Trailblazer with a Stellaron, the protagonist so far in your script, was once a Hunter before Miss Kafka and Miss Silver Wolf left them to the Astral Express?" Sunday jabbed, wondering how Elio felt if he let out this bombshell, of a dream that invaded his mind in one of the rare moments he let his guard down, as if THEY want him to know what it meant to be with the Hunters, the past tying to the future that could take him as not the protagonist of his own life but just another character for someone else in the story of their own making.

To Sunday, as long as his goals were achieved and his vows made, he should be content at what life had so far given him but at the same time, he wanted everything on the table to leave little to doubt.

Neither Elio nor THEM should be the only one to pull the strings.

"... I wonder how much insight your dreams have given you so far? To question me and reveal this much, what are you so doubtful of? What do you know? What are you so curious about?" Elio asked.

Sunday remained silent, not even bothering to answer the question and asked this instead:

"So that means I am a Hunter and also not. So where does that leave me? Are you going to let me end up to a similar fate as the Stellaron carrying Trailblazer, in another faction altogether after recuperating here?"

Elio didn't press the question he had and simply decided to answer Sunday's own, easily giving in for this continuing conversation:

"Don't worry, we are not going to leave you on your own with jumbled up memories or anything like that. And about factions, is there really such a thing that any pathstrider should only belong to one faction at a time? Just like your dreams, I have forseen some avenues you could have taken, for one that has fallen with clipped wings where one's feet could guide to many a places."

"Were there some that appealed to you, such as an Astral Express member journeying among the galaxies as you found understanding with people once enemies in a grand duel to further seek answers into the unknown? An offer from a Knight of Beauty as they deem you an Omen of Evil that they hope to never turn to and yet understand the noble soul within and want to journey together in an understanding of nobleness and Beauty, of exalted virtue and chivalrous improvement while paving the paradise righteously? A budding conspiracy in the IPC 'atoning for your sins' but truly enabling the inward discourse and righting a capitalistic corporation that had done disservice to few home planets a revenge served right?"

"Or maybe you want to try your hand in it all, finding the path best suiting you being the Jack of all trades, master of none? A lone wanderer finding no rest in this world, with your original dreams in the sun after old ones die, for the paradises you sought to build, using everything at disposal until your time is up?"

Sunday didn't say anything, which is as much admittance to his consideration. At the time and still now since his criminal track record was not going to mysteriously disappear into thin air, the Hunters were a great choice for survival, and getting to know them with their intentions in helping Destiny's Slave for an intended future with the script at hand and the Hunter's own efficiency in exchange for their own goals do not make them the most terrible faction to work under. It was certainly better than the Masked Fools.

But with his dreams, potential futures and as Elio reminded him about his limited time, if fate would one way or another help him clear his criminal record and give a reedeming second chance to cleanse his hands as a civilian instead of a criminal...

What beginning could he get out from such an end?

"Every stage needs actors and those behind the scenes, bold and in the shadows. There can be Hunters living solely for the script, associating themselves with our name but there are others who only propel the story hidden under shades and only assisting a story's better ending on their own pace without anyone being the wiser, even playing multiple ends with many factions for their own goals."

"So you are saying that I fall at the latter category then."

"Is it surprising? Some forseeable endings cannot come to fruition with just one faction alone, needing the interdependecy among factions within the galaxy to even proceed with great storylines."

"... It leaves me wondering just how many among factions your Hunters have already infiltrated? How much are we left dancing to your strings? And what does that make me among the grand scheme of things?"

"I'm not as powerful as you think, if you believe the whole universe 'dance to my strings' when there are more scriptwriters out there following other powers weaving their story within my own. I do dabble in scripting the important stories of this universe you might say, for a wonderful ending and yet that doesn't mean characters in the script have not deviated giving an alternate ending altogether. For example, did you know that there was a scene where the Nameless would not uncover the Order's plot, willing to scapegoat the IPC as the Family and others sing and dance merry never knowing the truth of Death because they turned down the Ambassador's offer? It would just have been rolling the credits by then, geez~"

"Shouldn't you be more worried of script deviations?" Sunday asked, thinking about the implications if the Nameless didn't bother to investigate Death further, indulge in the IPC ambassador and get into the Family's affairs...

A happy facade, but he wondered if anything then woud be solved. Solved as neatly as what they had now.

"Whenever the script deviates, that means the particular universe made their choice and rolled with such credits," Elio sighed, "It meant that is humanity's extent in getting the universe to bow for the favorable outcome, unless there are restarts to certain points that lets those seemingly with choice go back to do right for everyone else. Yet being specks of dust in this universe, what do we know about such things?"

"Does that mean you wouldn't care either way if I left the Stellaron Hunters now or not? Since you don't particularly care if I associate myself with your faction and can hypothetically leave anytime."

"Right now, do you really want to?" Elio purred, "What do your dreams say about it, your own potential futures?"

Sunday crossed his arms, but indulged in such a question. His steady path towards Aeonhood, and the powers leaking within this vessel meant he could answer, although it was up to Sunday whether it was an answer he particularly wanted to follow.

"... I guess my answer to your question would answer my own about what I am in the grand scheme of things," Sunday sighed, "There is no harm in letting myself go with the flow, letting incidents be dictated by the circumstances around me, meaning that staying with the Stellaron Hunters could open up for... personal insights."

After all, it was them that took him in when he had nowhere else to go, showed a script to push forth development and encounters with Robin and Aventurine that had led to Mr. Bun Bun, THEM and now those seven angels that Sunday was seriously considering to name them as 'The Week' or 'Genesis' based on how there are seven of them and how seven could represent what he once remembered swearing to Ena as he himself might have ascended to Aeonhood: Truth, Calender, Words, Values, Rules, Meaning, Human Dignity...

All making up the world they had now. What he had been taught a long, long time ago bounded in a journal lost in a dream...

Sunday slightly shook his head, ignoring Elio's curious gaze for now and knew he had no time for reminiscence. Or else get sucked into that particular dream. Although he now felt like naming his seven angels Genesis just for the fact it felt strangely fitting. See, he could get personal insights just by sticking around with the Hunters, especially after Kafka had roped him into conductor work with the side of black market scheme exposure through heist which at least made him consider the conductor job into his life. Personal insights indeed.

"Glad to hear it," Elio now smiled, being the smug cat that he always makes himself out to be but maybe that was expected with the know-it-all attitude just being right. Almost spitefully, he wanted to leave here and now but the pros long outweighed the cons but at least this conversation confirmed his very own insights and let him understand where he stands.

Until then, he would just let the days ahead show what's in store for him.

Chapter Text

Robin: Brother, was that dream real for you as well, meeting each other in what-ifs and a spot to visit together in real life for a family reunion? Whatever ordeal you are facing now, I hope you fare better from it. You once said we will 'see each other soon', is that a promise or something you simply said as a courtesy or its own farewell? I know circumstances realistically won't let us see each other 'soon' as the word truly means but will we ever catch up?

Robin: I did say that I understand your circumstances, and I should have known I would be left on read but are you worried that texting would incriminate me because you are still a criminal to this galaxy and I am an idol, a singer whose reputation so dearly cherished could be tainted by your own? If I hit right on the mark, you are easy as ever to read brother. As you can see by now, I have texted you on our private phones only known to just the two of us so it is more unlikely that anyone else will trace this connection. So, please, will you say something?

Robin: I guess you are still going to keep me on read? It's been a while and there is no news about you in the galaxies, which is good news after what happened in Penacony but I guess I still can't help but worry. Sometimes, I feel like even when we don't talk normally like we usually do, I can still hear your voice in my head, the lullabies sang and toys like Mr. Bun Bun and Ms. Halo seem to take a liking to me in my own privacy. You don't have to tell me for me to know that this was your doing. ... Thank you for reaching out. I will wait when one day you will text back. Don't think that I have never seen you trying to type at your end~

Robin: It's been a while, brother. Were you surprised to see my TV appearance for a concert comeback? I know you might still keep up with the news since you seem to be able to Even when I have texted you before about how I have cancelled my idol activities in favour of a self-journey with audience of my choosing? This was one of the times, and I had not expected for fans to be so enthusiastic and let it get viral. Even if I desire a break from idolhood, it seemed I cannot be left idle for so long, with slotted TV sessions with that famous IPC show host Owlbert that I know you have met a few times for yourself as well and maybe a few more concerts just for certain celebrated cornerstones... so, what if my biggest fan came to a few? What do you say?

"I need a favour."

Sunday looked up in surprise at Blade who had spoke such words. He was still relatively new to the Stellaron Hunters and believed he had not bonded well enough with any of them to the point that they would go ask him of all people for a favour.

Still, such an interruption helped when he had been staring at his phone, to the bombardament of messages as spordiac as they were from Robin herself after the shared dream together and a promise Sunday wasn't sure how to interpret for the both of them even though he was the one to say 'see you soon'. He hadn't even contended with it until around the time that he had started conducting for Kafka's job and even then, he focused solely on his tasks at hand before addressing the elephant in the room but it was only so long that the increasing number of notifications and the rising number above the messaging app wouldn't drive anyone insane. So here he was now.

It had been almost a month and despite his definition for eternal separation and the script close to heart with written destiny that was not as set in stone as people would like to think in a world of 'infinite possibilities', he had kept contact with Robin, in his own ways although he was not gung ho about it, would not jump for it. That Robin was right that Sunday cared about her reputation, that her dreams should not be sullied because of her relation with him, that fame and infamy, of idol and criminal simply not mixing well.

And yet, even if the easier part of him felt that it was better she had forgotten him altogether, pursued her dreams on her own and even just finish him during that very day at the theater for what they had been against each other in one of the fewest and rarest times ever when their differing views could settle for a compromise more often than such a clashing battle, Sunday knew what Robin wanted and as a brother to sister...

He tries. He still didn't know the outcome to such contact despite their doomed fate in the future but the easy part did not make up his whole heart, the parts that was grateful to his own life, who never wanted to sadden Robin and wished that he could have held such a positive mindset like Robin and that since they were always family, how could Sunday leave her alone?

So he tries. It was hard. And he had been trying to text even though paranoia was not reassured by Robin's statements that the phone was not traceable and a text, a few more as a preferable contact over their telepathic one that drains them of their power and the toys Sunday sends that might act as messangers but are not of Sunday himself...

Needless to say, he was grateful for the distraction that Blade gave him, putting aside the phone where he had once more deleted any statements in his phone and put all his attention to the latest matter at hand.

"A favour? From me?" Sunday asked, as if repeating it would somehow make sense. It didn't, and he continued, "Me? Not from Miss Kafka, Miss Silver Wolf or Miss Firefly?"

"Who else but you here?" Blade asked, as bluntly as ever which now piqued Sunday's curiosity.

Blade always struck Sunday as a cold individual who had little to say. His indifference and disinterest made it hard for Sunday to get close to this unapproachable man even if he tried. A distant but efficient swordsman who had pledged loyalty to Destiny's Slave.

What would Blade want from Sunday?

"What favour are you asking for?" Sunday asked.

"You once worked as a priest right? I need you to infiltrate a church worshipping the Abundance and find the Denizien's secret base," Blade answered, cutting to the chase without any beating around the bush called back and forth one would expect to get all the information needed in conversations like this.

Such answer simply left more questions as Sunday was left entirely without context. He wanted to ask, but Blade had answered what Sunday felt like he rather have answered than the unasked questions that could have been met with silence.

All there was left for him to do was accept or reject, even though the lingering question of why laid on his toungue. All Sunday could surmise for such why, at least with Blade's Xianzhou origin, was some kind of hatred for the Abundance. But would Blade truly be a man who hunts people down simply out of just hatred? Sunday knew if he wasn't going to ask, then it would be best not to dwell when neither pried for the others' life and thus only a professional relationship remained.

Without a script leading them on, the Stellaron Hunters had their own downtime and Sunday was figuring out soon enough that so far what consisted of their downtime might be as criminal as parts of their scripted lives could be, unknowing how to live normally after this road taken. Then again, he had so far experienced Kafka's life outside of the script and now a taste of Blade's. Maybe Silver Wolf's downtime would just be anything video game related. He was not sure about Firefly but maybe it might be similar to his sister with shopping or going out for walks and yet what would he know?

Sunday now simply stared back at Blade, who met a silent gaze with an equally silent gaze as he only awaited an answer. Sunday had no reason to accept the favour but neither to reject it. He could ponder about the pros and cons, about Blade's motivation to sway him either way or his own relationship with the Stellaron Hunters and whether it would be worth it. They would all be useless thoughts. What mattered more was what he wanted. This was his own downtime too, away from the script. Away from the structured life that he only knew ever since he was groomed to be the Oak Family Leader.

"Sure," Sunday finally answered, "What else do I need to know?"

He didn't mind dabbling into the religious route after knowing what it was like to be a conductor. Getting out more would foster more opportunities for finding where a wanderer without rest could lead. Unlike his conducting skills, he had his Bronze Melodia experience to fall back to. A worthwhile expereince.

As he ignored some elephants in the room, mattering little to others and only so much to himself unknowing what to do.

If Blade showed any surprise about the acceptance and following eagerness, it didn't show to his everlasting indifference on his face as he spared no detail about what he wanted out of Sunday and the objective at hand.

Sunday nodded, tallying up the information at head before Blade unceremoniously declared that they should get going now.

No rest for the wicked they say.

***

That was merely a few days ago, as Sunday settled well into the church Blade wanted him to infilitrate on a distant planet far from Pier Point where they usually held base unknown especially to the IPC and anyone else wanting their heads. At first impression, it was just as normal a religious dwelling that any planet hosts, whether they serve Aeons, gods mistaken from either Arbritrators or Emanators leaving a lasting impression and untold by the wider galaxy how mortal truly Emanators are despite their power and really anything in between, anything that could be idolized to a vision of god that deserves their religion told fanatically and taking hold of the planet they touch upon.

As a planet open enough for space travelling and yet lacking resources to travel out themselves or at least provide for themselves any means to make space travel common which holds itself very true for many planets out there, it was unsurprising for them to have people who stumbled upon the planet rather than anyone who left the planet themselves. So when Sunday came, with his new fit hooded to cover up his wings without the halo elsewhere on person, even without his prominent Halovian features, locals could feel how alien he was and were yet quite welcoming to the strange yet respectable traveller from what they could only assume as afar and even made no qualms when Sunday found a calling within the local church, rising steadily up to the ranks.

The church did not paint themselves with the Abundance that Blade insisted was hiding beneath the surface with idolatry of another god that could give any kind of salvation to the masses, of why people have prayed for the higher powers and yet what Sunday knew throughout and especially from his ordeals to be futile when one can only rely on themselves for the way forward to their dreams, when he knew from experience how conditional pathstriding and Aeons' blessings can be.

Despite such blasphemous thoughts from the once Bronze Melodia, his faith which is the root to all religion never wavered, simply directed anywhere and elsewhere that graces people with a saving light. Even if he did believe that people can only rely on themselves to uplift their own dreams and to stride upon numerous paths, a listening ear and support in banding together for mutual goals is a reliance never wasted and which Sunday still excels quite well, which he finds necessary in building paradises for everyone even as a first step. To listen to suffering and to emphatise, to find even more motivation for the dream he once held and in walking through mortal suffering as an experience to reshape and remold techniques once failed, it was a path he happily embarked and what made him a natural priest in infiltrating the church.

As a strange and respectable traveller, especially with his Halovian nature endearing and charming people around him with the amiable state he shows everyone, Sunday was now finishing up a piano piece for the church's choir accompanying mass to signal a start of the day.

In the span of the few days, he had gone from errand boy to being accepted enough from musical talent to at least provide accompaniment to the choir at his first mass, being recognized immediately as musically inclined and practicing enough to deliver a spell binding performance to the people that lacked regret in such decision on such sudden staging.

It was also prime opportunity for Sunday to do reconnaisance on what Blade has requested upon this infiltration about a church that has hidden its Abundance origins, which is strange to say the least.

The Abundance is easily loved and hated for those who fear death and know the horrors of immortality respectively but many short lived species, using Xianzhou terminology here, it would be formerly favoured because the fear of death is always the strongest.

Sunday easily felt the same, not only for himself but for his loved ones such as his mother he had lost and cried over that fateful day and then his sister who he believed died once upon a time only to find out she was alive all along in gratefulness.

The fear of death, salvation of a soul for prolonged life if just for achieving dreams without regrets or fear of losing loved ones would make sense in a planet without complications to immortality like the Xianzhou, to favour the Abundance and yet the church itself had it been infiltrated by the Abundance covered it up instead with another god that do not hold a candle over the Aeons. It warranted a bit of digging, if nothing else for it.

As Sunday took a bow along with the choir to head back to the front seat for the rest of the sermon, he was unsurprised to find a familiar stuffed angel toy at his seat, having no qualms taking it up and placing it on his lap that caught the eyes of those sitting in between him, who had noticed the stuffed doll in the first place when entranced by the performance.

He wasn't going to field off any unasked questions their curiosity holds as he pretends to look shock at its appearance and yet does nothing but just holding it on. He smiled pleasantly as the head priest took up to stage for a word of their God's teachings. What anyone would see as reverent listening had actually been telepathic conversation between a vessel and yet another familiar different from Mr. Bun Bun.

'Ms. Halo, what have you found out?'

After Mr. Bun Bun, it was unsurprising that Ms. Halo would be the next one to be sentient especially after the Genesis debut during his conductor period. Even after naming the seven of his angels after the Order's commandments, they seem to end up just being one stuffed doll summoned in seven as the angels at his beck and calling, as Ms. Halo who seemed to have a marked influence in his life since childhood.

Unsurprising among all toys although Mr. Bun Bun was the first to awaken among his array of toys, because while the rabbit plush would always be a favourite for Robin, cheer her the most and always there as found by herself or brought by Sunday under any dire childhood circumstances... it was Ms. Halo that would hold his heart and resonate the most because that angelic toy, that Halovian toy has yet to be found anywhere else but the planet the siblings once resided and gifted by their mother, who had made it to a cartoonish likeliness of their species and a toy that Sunday and Robin protected in the memory of their mother.

What it means to be a Halovian, what it means for the angelic powers, what their mother hoped they would feel keeping that toy close especially when it survived out of their meagre possessions when the siblings were sent to Penacony.

A toy also used in childhood that inspired the question about golden cherubs and music boxes, of angels and songs.  Such a toy wouldn't have such a marked influence otherwise and for the toy to turn into the very angels, the golden cherubs, that Sunday had at beck and call thanks to THEIR power leaking out. Nothing but poetic.

And maybe since Ms. Halo was made in the image of Halovians, the telepathy that they possessed simply relaying the emotions needed, which spoke of assurance, self-confience and maybe even a hint of mischief that was luckily formed into an answer.

'They hide their cards well more than we thought, but not enough that anyone poking around wouldn't find something suspect. They are certainly suspicious of you, and any move you make might dive you headfirst into whatever schemes they have hatched. But getting into the thick of things is what you wanted, correct? Considering the favour you are about to do, they saw me poking around what I wasn't meant to poke around and since I am here with you, they might inquire. Whatever you do with this opportunity is up to you, good luck.'

Sunday was almost in disbelief with the wayward action that Ms. Halo seem to take, that while he was entirely focused on the sermon before him like many others, his eyes subtly darted to his surroundings and caught people staring at him, and also the doll in his hands. What he once thought as confusion now gave way to an intrigue he could not entirely make out, with a new meaning considering what Ms. Halo had done.

He almost want to sigh at how bold and almost reckless Mr. Bun Bun and now Ms. Halo are, wondering how they ever became like this, even though he wasn't entirely sure how they were made sentinent. Even with wanting to make a quick job out of it, simply wanting to keep it at a chapter of his life moving forward in this story of self-discovery and answers he had yet sought out, he found such frivoulessness a little distasteful for company he liked to keep. Really, it was a confounding question where they got such a personality from when they have been with him his whole life.

Or maybe, in an alternate timeline, they simply signify another possibility in him, of little changes made in his childhood giving birth to someone more open, 'less dull' and yet with frivolousness that a person of decorum such as himself could not bear to emulate. It was distasteful and disliking and yet it was company in unexpected surprise he did not mind keeping and accepting and learning from, especially it recalls the personality of who he used to be, and who he could still be underneath how he grew up to become.

Of course, Sunday was not a fool even with Ms. Halo's intervention to get the better of him and land himself into trouble. He could not stand imperfections nor risks, not when the life he had to uphold, to prolong against THEM until the bitter end was at stake. Even then, it was a habit unchanged ever since childhood, Bronze Melodia and even as the Oak leader.

Just as he once stated that day he was in the middle of Aventurine's grand performance that was all but preparation for it, Sunday was the type of person to make sure even his clothes were put and worn without the slightest deviation. Of grander scales such as plans and actions with deep consequences one way or another, of course no stone would be left unturned.

And even so, he knew he could not account for everything, in this chaotic open world unlike when he was simply sheltered in Penacony knowing the ins and outs which was why inevitable risks would present itself one way or another.

Thus, one way or another, he simply would leave this up to fate not necessarily surrendering to any disastorous inevitabalities but adapting as he saw fit, something he had long learned in defaulting himself to Elio's script at the beginning in compromise for being taken in when he had nowhere else to go as a fugitive and the subsequent crimes and scenarios that followed soon after. The journey after his fall was not smooth sailing but still held the desirable outcome as long as he got back up from his failures and avoiding mistakes he rather not be doomed to repeat.

As fate had it, at the end of the sermon and its proceedings for priests to stand at the foot of the stage for any lost soul to reach out for a simple prayer, he was stopped short from standing up by the priest that had sat next to him with his hand clasped firmly on his shoulder. If he remembered right, it was a senior priest that had been responsible for taking Sunday in and allowing him to indulge in the desire to work for the church to give back the hospitality.

"Is there anything you would like to ask me, sir?" Sunday asked, as he made no more move to stand up and simply played with the plush toy that people expectedly did not come to claim while waiting for an answer. He didn't miss how the priest had looked toward the toy before coming back to him.

"Raven," the priest addressed, a name that Sunday was using more as his disguise even though it might be obvious at first glance of how unreal it might be as a true name, "What have you been writing all this time? Were you so absorbed by the sermon that you wished to jot everything down?"

Having expected the plush toy question, he was more taken aback by the question of the journal now holstered at the side of his outfit with only the barest tip of a pinkish feather sticking out between pages. He could still remember it was a short while ago that Sunday received it anoymously, a blank journal waiting to be filled out just sitting right there at his desk. A note with a small paw print was enough to answer the anoymity question. Elio wouldn't give it to him without reason, and in dreams of potential futures when he cannot deny true human nature need in sleeping, the book apparently accompanies him evermore as the prime weapon, a medium, for the journeys starwards.

Even when he chosen the journey of trailblaze instead of finality, of freedom instead of destiny, that book would always be by his side with as much questions and answers he had once written as a child and writing now in this vast journey to the answer he could satisfy himself with in the ascetic journey of self-improvement, knowledge and vows. Seemingly free but with the mysteries still surrounding him, with Gopher Wood's determination and plans beaten for sure and yet still lingering maybe within a Family far away, of what the Harmony could be... would freedom be a foolish thought? Something he will keep quiet upon himself despite any questions given especially from the gray-haired Trailblazer.

Sunday almost wanted to shake his head. Even subtly, mayhaps, he would never escape destiny's clutches although it may strive him forward, kindly or not, to a future with the answers he seek and the paradises that he coveted like the sun in the sky. Maybe the infinite possibilities will always be taken advantage by some others, either in mutual agreement or someone's gain more than his, for the bigger picture at store. And yet even so, he found himself comforted that he knew as such instead of being potentially kept in the dark.

If he ever doubts his position as Stellaron Hunter instead of letting himself journey on his own feet in his lonesome, he preferred the fact that not only was he closer to the action of the faction holding sway to a destiny beyond anyone's imagination that will affect many whether they like it or not, that being here simply meant he could know more about his enemies, his allies and himself and face the situation boldly, grandly without mistakes repeated in the past.

"It is a habit for a curious soul such as mine," Sunday said smoothly, easing away from the flashback about what the journal now means and how much significance it may hold, "Even as a child, I like to question everything and figure out the answers as life goes on. I write them down in a journal, just to satiate myself and remember what brings me to this point."

"That is a good habit to have," the priest patted Sunday's back jovially, somehow inching upward with every pat, "Does that mean you had questions with our sermon that you sought out answers for?"

"I don't particularly have answers I seek throughout this sermon this time," Sunday answered firmly, "Other than questions and answers, I do use the journal to simply jot down what I deem important, and after such hospitality from you all alongside my desire to follow along your footsteps in helping the masses, what I would need alongside ascetism is knowledge."

"Then, did you learn anything?" the priest asked, his hand inching close towards the angelic plush toy but stopping short for a second.

"This is only my first sermon, so I am not sure whether I have learned anything if I do not hear more," Sunday gave a somewhat non-answer in preference to figuring out what the priest truly wanted from this beating around the bush, "Only time will tell about what I have learned."

"Is that so?" the priest hummed, "Then are you willing to hear more now?"

Sunday could easily sense the turning point in this conversation, piled up by how the priest kept looking at Ms. Halo and even him with zealous eyes, how the priest had patted his back inching up to his neck as if searching for something and now that the atmosphere turned out like this, he decided on a brief counsel with Ms. Halo for any final decision.

The counsel proved itself shocking.

'Just let them knock you out.'

Before Sunday could even think 'excuse-', Sunday already stood up in time to avoid a chop to the back of his head by the senior priest. Unfortunately for him, the whole church was in cahoots with him, indicating a potential hive minded trait species from the Abundance faction could potentially exude. Sunday would have defended himself, but it seemed like something agreed with Ms. Halo's counsel when a forgotten bracelet from a certain not meant to be forgotten someone squeezed at his arm before he could even potentially grab his book and so surprised was he by the sensation that he really ended up getting knocked out.

And once more into a dream.

THEY frowned at the audacity, by the bracelet and wondered how it was even possible. The thorns once more clashed with the strings, hissing about promised wishes and future vested interests, as a reminder, to never be forgotten. The dreams THEY hold dominion over was now being put in convinience for the vessel's situation, all for a travelling merchant's wish and the fact that bestowed knowledge would further understand the cause.  Honestly, the bracelet as an entrusted good and returned favour might hamper THEM more than THEY thought... Was this lucky or unlucky?

Sunday was suddenly thrusted into a dream, not dissimilar with how he had experienced Luocha's, a thought that somehow made sense to his mind suddenly. It reminded him of dream hopping, especially for people in close proximity dreaming for him to even get a glimpse. And what a glimpse he got, although it came in glitches and stops because-

Angels and demons. Churches and salvation. Blessings and curses. They weren't strong-

Devils, that they overpowered everyone. Devils, that they have all become. Cursed, that they do not deserve the Merciful One's blessing. Because they were tainted. Because they were not blessed enough. Because they needed to overcome this tria-

A religious war once more, of a closed off planet declared dead and yet alive because of an endless cycle. Don't worry, even they don't unde-

But they want to live. That was what important. Only the blessed live forever. And to reduce the curse, even a little, all they needed is a blessing. Even if that means absor-

How long will their trial go on? They could no longer consider themselves Abundance, when they were once ally, now ene-

But they do not want to be this dastardly creature. They could become stronger, better. All they needed was-

Bits and pieces stuck out from many dreamers, but Sunday could piece it together.

There was a reason why the Abundance was hidden from the church's origins, because they refused to worship the Aeon that had blessed them for the curse they now carry and deeming themselves impure upon them. They could only truly worship the Merciful One, pridefully call themselves as such if they cleanse themselves of their sins and truly obtain the immortality they truly seek out.

And  to cleanse themselves from sin was simply a way to become better than the cursed. Strange yet respectable travellers even if untouched by the Merciful One at least had what THEY have always sought out to give to so many, life. And life was enough for the citizens to prolong their own until their life became pure.

Why did Sunday feel like there was a similar situation, in another dreamer's world?

But before he could ponder it, he woke up.

Sunday was horrified at what dwelled in the basement, pods of people resembling closer to devils than humans and which was most likely where his dreams originated from. The deniziens revealed themselves, more grosteque than anything, with a gurney where Sunday found himself strapped in and finally revealing his Halovian features that made those devils smile.

"An angel! An angel gracing us by the Merciful One~"

'Have they never seen a Halovian?' Sunday thought, before he remembered a similar situation such as this one. A blonde hair child growing up to the travelling merchant Luocha who had no idea about Halovians and deeming Sunday as an angel for how he simply looked. Luocha, who once lived in a planet that suffered devilry like what he was witnessing now. Luocha, who was called an Abomination in the Xianzhou and this planet with its citizenry suffering the same ailment as Luocha's own home planet...

Sunday could hazard a guess, a sickening one, for what planets blessed by Yaoshi might have suffered for the price of immortality. At least he was beginning to understand Luocha's war against Abundance although he reminded himself despite the odd events that he was here doing Blade's favour and should focus on that instead.

The Abundance, Harmony and Order were not dissimilar in how they came from the 'good' concepts and even so they could end up as the villainous entities with criminal intent to maintain what they got out of such good concepts, and the curses that replaces the blessings as the prices to pay for such good.

Still, whether Blade came or not, he was already getting out of here. His toys had enough autonomy to simply lead Blade to this place as Sunday fulfilled enough of the favour in this infiltration. Thankfully, that was a point he didn't have to worry needlessly.

"Again and again, there are always certain deniziens have sought immortality and fallen short even with the blessing you have received. Always, somehow, you have received the curse from your race to immortality and never achieve perfection and can still die. And ironically think to achieve the perfect immortality that cannot die, you must kill that said perfect immortality and absorb it within yourself believing to be unkillable when you have just killed them in the first place. So that means the unkillable can die, that immortality is imperfect but then why..."

The unknown voice came from nowhere, but easily pinpointed to the entrance where all heads turned to see a black long haired man, holding a pulsating red sword in his bandaged right hand as two golden cherubs hovered over him having led him to the place.

"Why can't I reach the other side instead?" Blade finally asked, descending the steps to the devils that immediately understood what stood before them, and actually paled in fear with a fearsome title, Eternal Swordsman.

... Maybe there was more reason as to why they have hidden their Abundance origins after all.

***

'Of the five, three must pay the price.'

What people would see as a personal vendetta might simply be the price he had been paying even as he wandered around aimless until he met Jingliu, was taught and remembered, even before he was picked up by the Stellaron Hunters, pledged loyalty to Destiny's Slave and held his promise unto Elio in exchange for the resources at hand to pursue the goals now set firmly in his heart.

Even with following to the very end of Elio's script, whether simply sparing the reincarnation of Imbibitor Lunae from paying the price after chasing him for so long or staying alive long enough himself, it never deterred him from still chasing after Imbititor Lunae and hoping for his own death in the prices they had to pay or have his death at the hand of anyone who can finally deliver him to the other side of the paradise.

Even if loyalty towards Destiny's Slave meant that he could not die until the very end of the script instead of at the very present that he craved for, it never stopped how he welcomed many assassins and swordsmasters trying to take his head and failing every time for him to return the favour that stuck out better than what he had given him. Even seeking out the deniziens, the abominations and those of cursed immortality with their own irony that they do not truly possess the eternal life they seek when it can be easily cut down unlike his own was among the only things that could pique his curiosity to only want more. To see whether their methods to kill the unkillable could finally be applied to him even if it was meant to fuel their own immortality as long as he finally died in the end because death cared for nothing else beyond that.

He now looked at Sunday who now freed himself from the deniziens' trappings with the help of his golden cherubs signifying he could have gotten out of this situation anytime and looked towards Blade, wondering the next move as well to the deniziens themselves in alarm at how the atmospere suddenly changed and that bloodlust was in the air.

If Sunday was expecting any explanation on Blade's part, disappointment was only what awaited at the end when only quick decisive action simply exists in the wake of flaring mara especially in front of the deniziens that were always painful reminders such as now where he had seen what the devils were about to do to Sunday, of how closely it reminded of a long forgotten memory that turned a kinder past to a crueler present and flared the mara within to the loathsome and yet familiar tunnel vision that signifies an end.

Blade could barely make out Sunday's wide eyes of understanding, darting between him and the other deniziens as he boldly made his way towards Blade, something the swordsman would caution against the priest. But maybe this was all a part of what he would soon be shown.

Because Blade never intended to rope Sunday into this favour, this personal pursuit of his akin to a solo mission unless Kafka comes in by courtesy of all-seeing Elio to simply accompany him when the mara might be too much on occassion and a whisper was needed to quell. It had been surprising when Elio confronted him that day, asking what he thought about Sunday and even sneakily suggesting the newest recruit to join in his downtime with his priest background potentially making it easier to infiltrate the churches the deniziens like to hole themselves into.

When it comes to Elio, a suggestion wasn't made without reason especially when Blade's 'why fix what's not broken' method of brute forcing his way in that didn't need the softer touch of a priest infiltration. Even though it would not harm him to take upon Elio's suggestion simply to see to the end of it, that only piqued his curiosity enough to seek out a fellow Stellaron Hunter to simply ask any other opinion than his own impressions about a determined person ready to step through this willful road and yet soft with a kindness in his eyes unseen by many to truly dive into what destiny might ask as a price for the ending required. But that was all he knew.

Eventually, he found Firefly, the first person to meet Sunday even before his fall of grace and involved in what he was informed about a ludricous plan about eternal dreams and godhood ressurection. Once enemies turned allies, he was certain Firefly might have a better grasp to Sunday's character than the rest barring the all-seeing Elio and it was intriguing with what she had to say:

"Even when I did oppose him, he was a person who sought out understanding from his opponents about a paradise for all humanity despite his pessimism about them leading to those misguided but pure intentions. And now here he is growing from the loss of a fair duel he initiated towards the Astral Express instead of sneaky schemes at the end. As the allies we are now, I hope we can all achieve our goals in better ways than we once thought."

That was enough to resolute Blade to simply approach Sunday, reminding him what he thought about this faction overall. That together they simply banded to achieve their respective goals. Even if that much doesn't seem clear for something clearly more to Blade's benefit if any, anything can happen especially now when he was about to lose all reasoning.

Thus, Blade with the last of his mind spoken aloud in deserved warning:

"You. Get out of here."

As whatever happens next would be either pure blissful nothingness or simply awakening once more alive and seeing Sunday at this side, with whatever answers he might garnered from this excursion.

***

Only insane slaughter awaited Sunday. Ruthlessness he had not seen ever since Kasbelina-VII, a literal warzone, decided to grace his presence again. Truthfully, Sunday knew that he was going to encounter such a scene sooner or later but that didn't make it easier to witness.

Truthfully, even knowing the slaughter that the Stellaron Hunters had dabbled in, either personal vendetta or getting the mission done quicker, Sunday hoped that while he traversed in this group, he could minimize it. Even a little.

That was of course soft and futile hope. This was no longer a dream that lets people believe in their immortality at least a little longer nor a nightmare that could be left behind for everything to be alright. For the first time that Sunday had been aided by the inevitable fate to join the Stellaron Hunters at least as safe refuge until other possibilities opened up, he felt like he truly knew now what he was getting into.

Of course he didn't like it, as he prepared his own weapon without hesitation and summoned the angels who do their best to minimise the casualties in supporting those nearly costing themselves their lives, with thorns and feathers flying as he felt his halo buzzing around.

The book glowed slightly, even as Sunday wondered whether this was the appropriate weaponry even at quick thinking on such an unexpected event but felt reassured of himself that he still kept the baton at ready in his pockets as his only spare weapon should anything worse happen.

Even so, Sunday was already having a hard time throughout the craziness where friend and foe have mixed up in trying to not get himself killed and prolonging as many lives here as he could with the book in hand and the angels circling around for respite. It might be useless, even unnecessary but maybe it was for his own self for the untainted paradise he once sought out. Maybe it was so that he could at least prevent anything like Kasbelina-VII happening in front of his eyes. Why else would he try?

As much lives as he could saved, he couldn't save much others either. It was little comfort to those who did escape and mourn for those who haven't, for whatever sins they have died for because even when Sunday believed for sins to be judged, rendering the final judgement without atonement for change to a rewarded paradise would never sit right with his own principles.

If anyone wanted to point to the Aventurine incident with the Harmony brand and seventeen system hours, he would like to point out that shackling and bluffing exaggerated threats existed. The Eternal Centurion's wrath wasn't meant for a singular person after all.

Along the way, Sunday had been focusing on too much that he had momentarily forgotten Blade, a mistake on his part when the blade swung up to him unaware of friend or foe. He managed to dodge but had almost tripped and another slash forced manoeuvre that loosened the grip of his book and thus forced him the backup weapon he carried at all time, with the baton that protected him better from the sword's slashes with echoing metal rather than rustled pages.

It certainly didn't make it easier to find himself at the end of an ally's blade. The red eyes held no recognition, only a certain level of madness that gripped Sunday in fear and only countered with screaming survival instincts to defend, to live.

To save.

The damned could be easily judged and left to rot but repentance, or at the very least the absolute invaluableness in life, alongside the fact that enough suffering has been seen for one day propelled Sunday's saviour instincts to reach out and fight back instead of running away, in order for any opening he could use to bring Blade back to his senses.

Unfortunately, this was where his sheltered life, cooped up in Penacony and occasionally to the planets where Robin performs her music tours on very rare occasions he was allowed the trip after his many responsibilities, had highlighted his inexperiences for such situations.

Of course Sunday never dealt with a mara-struck before, let alone anyone with Blade's unique situation even when he tried to use the power of Harmony, or Order in whatever he had left as a failed path strider on both with all the mistakes he had made, to only find an entangled mind and dissonance ringing so loud that he quickly cut the connection himself in order to focus more on reality of self-defence without getting his head too much into dissonance and losing it from getting stuck in that tangle. He knew he would still have to persist to calm down the mara within, like how Kafka can somehow easily do with her Spirit's whisper but a threat to life and his unfortunate inexperience proves this difficult enough as it is.

Sunday's baton could only do so much to a violent sword swing, only not snapping purely by the magic his path or maybe even the Aeonic power imbued into it as the medium he uses to fight, to summon and to conduct. And even then, there's so much he can do when his powers were purely uncombatative, unable to truly attack or defend except in bursts like how any unarmed pacifist who had ever gotten into a fight could muster up.

Even so, he still had his wits. He still had his powers, and just like Kafka, like how he knows this will play out, he had to try easing Blade out of the mara. He needed to-

Sunday was careless once more and just like the book, the blade had gone up to the hand holding the baton, and quickly manuevering he managed to block but not without an unsteady grip and almost lost fingers that loosened his hold of the baton and let it clatter to the ground. Enough to leave him wholly defenseless without a summon that can help him block at once, or any other power disposable to truly shield once the blade, swift and expected as ever, lunged to his chest.

(Any other power disposable, as if he was ignoring the one thing he did have on hand and yet one he rather not use in the face of consequences...)

Sunday could have done anything right now, from dodging or preventing his vitals from getting hit and yet when death comes close, whether it will truly happen in the mere seconds or not of an obviously fatal attack, Sunday could only have his life flashing before his eyes, childhood to now with the most prominent thing forefront being... Robin.

The promises. The texts. Such an elephant in the room and yet... the very fact that... that...

'Shouldn't I have seen her, truly seen her after everything, just once? To just text back? Or tried harder enough? Robin... I wish I wasn't so scared.'

Even with such thoughts straight out of a confessional, just like many mortals out there, based on only reassurances made up from the mind as if death cared about such things, Sunday was still quite confident at holding onto life. And yet, very scared that he would not. In mere seconds as the tip of the sword almost tore fabric to skin and eventually blood, Sunday's reassurances suddenly become certainty.

He would not die. Because THEY would not let him die. And that scared him as much as the situation before him, especially the action resulted afterward for the statement to be proven true, when golden threads he wished he held back came forefront.

The golden threads took over the sword before it could struck Sunday true. And it all ended with a blade to the mara-stricken swordsman's chest.

***

Blade woke up to humming. And fervent prayers. He appreciated the former and felt confused with the latter.

His eyes fluttered to a splotch of crimson and tasted iron and he knew he must have died, and yet...

'I have not died again.'

Would he have expected anything else? Would it have been any different?

Blade tried to recall what had happened, but like anytime before, the memories ended up hazy and blurry. Only scarlet remains through the fog and a headache, indicating more towards the fact that he had fallen to the mara before death.

Soon, he realized that the humming and fervent prayers had stopped immediately. His scope of vision did not end just to the splotch of crimson and instead saw a field of it, painted below unmoving bodies that he wished were his own and finally settling on a familiar face right above him with too many emotions swirling around it for him to pinpoint any of them.

"You... you really are awake after all," Sunday said, with undeserved relief that Blade was too tired to think through.

The minutes had passed on enough by then for Blade to realize that it hadn't been long since his massacre with the deniziens through the fresh blood that had yet to dry and that he had to find himself lying on Sunday's lap.

"You don't seem surprised," Blade remarked as he looked around to find the blade that he had yet to sheath as he wondered how he died and tried to recollect the events to understand the gist of what happened.

"As a Family leader in Penacony, it would not be surprising for me to be updated on every criminal faction to guard against the planet even if it was the Bloodhound's job. You are particularly infamous for being an eternal swordsman, where many tried to take you dead and failed no matter how sure it likely seemed," Sunday stated.

"Eternal swordsman. How fitting," Blade remarked, more cold on his tone at the utter fact of how true it was, how unchanging it all seemed to be and that the faintest glimpse to the other side might turn permanent on a promise he chose to believe, the reason why he was here with an ally he would never have otherwise.

He then found the sword, strangely entangled with golden threads snapped around the sword's hilt. His hand reached the threads, wanting to untangle them from the sword when a touch felt like it burned mercilessly and finally, Blade was able to recollect.

"Ah let me help," Sunday quickly said, as he easily took away the threads that Blade could not and gingerly held the sword for Blade to take. In recollection, Blade was slow to notice such things, only looking at Sunday in the eye when his memory finally piece something he could not understand considering what he knew of the person before him.

"You... you were the one that killed me."

Sunday's face fell at the statement but he did not deny it even when his hand gripped at the golden threads still in his grasp.

"And I am sorry for it," Sunday sincerely apologized, although Blade felt like that was nothing to apologize for, "It was either me or you, and apparently, I am not allowed to die."

Sunday looked down at the golden threads and Blade's gaze followed. As aware as Sunday was about Blade's own origin, Blade was equally aware of Sunday's. He understood what Sunday was conveying.

"There is nothing to apologize for," Blade muttered, "In fact, I had welcomed it. And if it had stuck next time."

As an Aeon to be, and an inevitable one at that, the embryo of an Aeon somewhere inside Sunday would not want the vessel to die before having the chance to become fully realized. Unlike for Blade, that might be a blessing to Sunday who does not seek out death the same as him. It might be a lot to digest but the cosmos have far more oddities experienced and to experience for something like this to shake Blade up.

Still, it posed a curious question. Even someone with powerful Aeonic abilities could not kill him, only the result of his breathing mattering than how close to death he might actually have been. But was it because of the power not being enough to end his curse once and for all or the owner's will that he was still alive?

That only made Sunday aghast and he fervently shook his head, "This will not happen again. However you feel, I am still apologetic about it, if not for you then for myself. You might not even want to hear this, but I am glad you are alive."

Blade frowned, because Sunday was right and he didn't want to hear this. Yet, he understood it was more for Sunday than for him when Sunday knew well enough this was not what Blade would want. It just proved the fact that throughout this favour posed by Sunday, Blade knew he found another opposite about the opinion between life and death. At least, Sunday never commented nor help Blade out of his frankly suicidal spiral, pained as he looked to the fact. Very professional, in fact.

And yet, it would not stop the deep wish inside that Sunday does wish for Blade's livelihood despite not knowing much about his circumstances because there's so much you can garner from public news and that the idea of death would remain unappealing to those who have not lived long enough for life to be a curse than a blessing that priests especially those of Abundance preach it to be.

Blade frowned suddenly, wondering if Sunday had accepted Blade's death, a will to not keep him alive back then whether he would still be alive. There was so much in the universe he didn't know, and even if he did want to ask, what would Sunday know? And what did Elio plan in such regards despite his promise of the quick end that Blade sought out, not when the script is still flipping to its end, not when Blade cannot just exit stage left for purposes beyond him. Thoughts above his paygrade, Blade knew and thus shook such out of himself.

For now, he could only feel disappointed that not even someone near Aeonic could kill him but does that mean he needed an actual Aeon for it? A finale if there ever was one. Still, there was no use for such thought with the feelings and revelations coming and going as Blade stood up followed by Sunday to leave.

Although Sunday looked at the devastation with a myraid of emotions that Blade can't nor care to discern, Blade could only stare ahead, eyes only darting around to find the singular thing that he wanted out of this whole debacle.

And only finding nothing, once more.

Chapter Text

Sunday liked the busy life, ignoring any concerns about the eyebags he had gained after making caffeine his life blood. He rarely dreamed and stayed awake, not wanting to subject himself with the risk of losing himself to bliss, even when some momentary respite was inevitable but better than having it in abundance. Perfect irony considering what he had done to the people that landed him in this criminal life but a comeuppance that he took in stride.

Regardless, it was fun to have an enriching life, from a musician / conductor to a priest and now to a dancer performing at a big venue to rub shoulders off people with the intention of 'black marketing and religious scamming' people, Silver Wolf's words and not his.

Ironically, this job of his was a continuation to his priest one, with the 'religious scamming' he was going to adhere. After his job as a priest with the Deniziens of Abundance, even if the whole thing led to slaughter, helping the lost lambs and adhering to goodwill for others reminded him of the times as a Bronze Melodia. Despite any bitterness he had experienced in both jobs, goodwill was a form of salvation that Sunday craved and easily took upon himself as he had traversed planets outside any scripts he surprisingly had minimal roles or none at all and offered his humble services through various churches to find a meaning in the old in his free time outside any scripts.

Religious scamming, meaninglessness, curiosity, irony and a knowing smirk were the reactions he received from the other Stellaron Hunters at his actions and yet wasn't stopped as the script does not stop any idleness he performed when not on the clock. And in the end, in his self-searching journey with the familar, diversity welcomed him with open arms at the talents he displayed in the name of goodwill. He was good at playing violin and piano for church functions, directions for choir and even a wonderful dancer as a last minute add on to one church's performances for the anniversary, simply doing well in a pinch.

"You have a flair for showmanship. How have you not got signed in and become an idol yet?" One of the priests asked Sunday a time ago and he could only laugh.

"You are not the first person who asked me that type of question. I can only give the same answer that I much prefer supporting those in spotlight than being in the spotlight myself."

"Does that mean there was someone who was in the spotlight that have you give your all as a supporter to them?"

"You could say something like that."

In any case, it was safe to state that even in the multiple roles he had amassed, idolhood would never be one of them, even if people insisted. It was something easily dropped, and something he would never find himself worthy again.

Even so, Sunday relished in finding new identities without the burdens of the Dreamaster and the Family, without being tied down to a script when it was unwanted. He had found himself having a much more amiable relationship with the Stellaron Hunters than expected while finding his foothold within the adventures he easily partook.

But there will be times like now that he still preferred his own solitude, his own person and just himself where Sunday had been hired through his connection as a paid dancer to entertain guests of a lavish party in a distant rich planet.

He would say no to idolhood, but singing, playing instruments and dancing were a tool of the trade he could partake if it doesn't have the strings of stardom attached. Dressed in a fancy outfit others would call out as eye-candy to participate with other dancers soon enough, Sunday had taken his sweet time mingling with others in the party and to find this relaxing instead of stiffling like parties within the Family bringing a smile out to his face. When it was time to go to stage, he felt that he could enjoy himself, with little concern until...

"I almost did not recognize you in this getup but who knew that I would see you once more?"

An unwelcome hand rested his shoulder, when he was about to perform. Adaptability had still not been his strongest suit, when he preferred things going down to the letter but he was equally aware that man may plan but Aha laughs. Not too true to the saying but his situation might as well echoed that.

He was about to go out now, by the crowd's anticipation and the unwelcome person made no signs of leaving, so Sunday had no choice on what had been done next, through split second choices:

"Excuse me, Mr. Aventurine. If you want to talk to me, you will have to indulge me in dance."

Aventurine's eyes widened when Sunday boldly took the other hand with his free one and sashayed as one when the curtains rose, going over steps to music that well suited a tango. Although surprised, Aventurine had briefly taken Sunday's leads before he regained himself and let out a cocky smile.

"I didn't expect Mr. Sunday here to be so bold," Aventurine said, in a volume that could be heard by others if not for the loud blaring music that people would pay more attention to than the mouths of the dancers engaging in small talk even through dance. Some might find it rude but as long as the dancers entertained, never faltered and could show off any mistake as a part of natural charm, then who was the audience to complain?

Throughout the dance, Sunday gotten close enough through the tango to whisper into Aventurine's ear, "I hope you don't plan to cause a scene with my presence, as unwelcoming as it is. We do not have much to do with each other at this point, Mr. Aventurine so why not just go our separate ways after this?"

Aventurine would not let Sunday be in the lead for too long, as he felt a tug away from the gambler and letting himself drop for Aventurine to hold him at the waist, with Sunday's mouth far away from Aventurine's ear. Neither their faces showed any other emotion that the neutral charismatic and professional faces they could only put in front of their audience without any personal feelings getting out of the way.

Even so, the duo were not remiss of the tension between them, with their rocky relationship and positions painting a cat and mouse situation that Aventurine might delight himself into. Sunday obviously did not appreciate being prey, although he knew if he did indulge in such, he was not going to let it lie down either.

"And why do you think I will comply?" Aventurine asked, "Why don't I make a scene myself here and call out what the audience doesn't know about you? After all, you have made quite a name of yourself that you will be chased after like no 'dancer' ever has."

It had been a time since Penacony but not enough that the Oak head betrayal would become too much of an old news. So far, he had played support to other Hunters in the few times that the script needed him, under newer names and identities despite his discerning features that the only thing the galaxy can pin on him would be his escape from justice for bio-terrorism against the Family with the Stellaron incident and breaking into the IPC to send a message to Aventurine.

Give it more time and unlike the other well known Stellaron Hunters, Sunday's notority might disappear from the universe in favour of worse criminals without anyone knowing his outcome or even that he joined the notorious Hunters in the first place. He wouldn't even mind that, being hidden in obscurity since there had yet been anything in the script to reveal himself flamboyantly to the universe but it was unsurprising that there were a few who would refuse as such, Aventurine being one of them.

Of course the threat fell on deaf ears. From the Xianzhou mission, Aventurine would believe that Sunday was without valid disguise except a simple change of clothes, different styled hair and without halo as if the changed parts would warp the sum total. Like the 'identity-changing glasses' one supposes. Without any perception filter bangle that Aventurine would undoubtedly check for with one look at Sunday would make closer looks a certainty once a name and accusation connects with the appearance.

However Aventurine would never know he actually had little need for those black-marketed spy gear in the first place. Not as reliable as his power of Harmony that can alter and change in psychedelia that he had kept close to his chest from people like Aventurine. It was something he could have freely used, master of disguise and prevented this meeting with the gambler in the first place.

Back then, when Sunday was unsure about his power rooted in Harmony or Order and then finding out about a particular THEM, Sunday wasn't inclined to access all his powers, not wanting to aggravate any particular being granting him powers too much and eering to the side of caution for everything that happened. It was why disguise that particularly needed absolute control and certainity was something he rather rely on anything else than his own powers just in case. Now, he already understood the flow of things, the powers he can almost call his own calling back to Harmony, Order and things entirely new so he would be more comfortable to be anyone else in other's perspective.

Firstly, he wanted to save his energy. Secondly, the simple disguise now had been adviced by Silver Wolf citing that people were blind or what were the odds. In hindsight, this situation where he had met the gambler might suggest the advice given going for deeper foresight that Sunday should look out for.

Of course, time will tell what would unfold but the present situation urgently tells him to play along lest he get ensnared before anything more happens.

"Are you sure you even want a scene in front of all these people? Do you even have a plan amidst the chaos you would find yourself in with the scene you would make, because surely you did not come here expecting trouble, unless..." Sunday let off.

Aventurine smiled, not even confirming nor denying Sunday's assumptions and decisively went off his own tangent.

"And are we sure that a scene wouldn't happen regardless when it concerns you, Mr. Sunday?" Aventurine taunted, "Are you telling me that you somehow attended this party, hired as a performer with no strings attached?"

It was easy to tell both thought each had an underlying motivation to have a party, to have fun but neither question gave way to answer, and Sunday found he cared little for Aventurine's machinations at the moment. A worthy opponent he had been in Penacony, that he wouldn't mind another clash on stage should their goals once more run parallel against each other but at the same time, when he still found little conflict with the man before him, peaceful solutions were better sought out.

"Yes," Sunday said blandly, "Is that so hard to believe?"

Sunday chose straightforwardness only so that there were no games played between them but such blatantness was enough to unsettle Aventurine, only showing his startlement with a blank face even when he did not cause a misstep.

Aventurine stared close into Sunday's eyes, and he looked back resolutely, wondering whether sincerity could be read between them. Not as enemies or rivals in each other's way out of goals paralleling each other in opposition through the Paths they had believed in. Not as friends either, when too much happened between them for easy reconcilation, proding and probing and crossing too many lines for friendship to even be on table.

No, what Sunday only wanted was a sincere understanding, to dispel awkwardness and tension that would later find itself unnecessary when they were both living their separate lives.

It was a long silence, over the music that they danced since Aventurine didn't even continue the banter and Sunday did not bother going off his own tangent, such as doubling down on his demands whether Aventurine was here in this party for something... more.

Since Sunday wasn't here for anything but an honest paying job (at least for now if his suspicions and paranoia suggesting otherwise come for naught), he didn't feel like having a double standard by accusing Aventurine of being more than a guest in this innocous party. For someone detail-orientated and orderly, such neglience wouldn't serve him well but bracing this flaw, this imperfection, it was akin to a peace offering that Sunday was willing to give.

And use to observe, with the previous unsettled expressions Aventurine had shown. To gauge, because any tipping point would do for this little charade to crumble and hostilities to make itself known. The last thing Sunday wanted, for the sake of treading his new beginnings.

"Hah..." Aventurine sighed, "So this is truly what you are doing now? I didn't expect you to be so... idle."

"Nothing wrong with that," Sunday said shortly, not aiming for anything more than curt conversation and a stranger's distance as a form of approach towards Aventurine. However he will take it will dictate the conversation lest there really was nothing more to say.

"But can you afford to be idle?" Aventurine now asked with an indulgent smile, the beginning of a new provocative attack, about not letting sleeping dogs lie, "After everything that happened, are you really going to turn your back of all the loose ends left behind? Penacony? Your sister?"

Sunday couldn't cover up the bristle on time, his wings flapping a little despite being covered up by his collared outfit to show truly to the audience and everyone else watching that he was a human and no other species. So that they do not get to see the rare Halovian, especially those that sprout those feathery ear wings rarer than those with halo accessories on their head.

Aventurine's smile widened even more, as if glad that such a jab about his sister was enough to provoke the reaction truly desired out of Sunday, that inversely calmed Sunday down so he would not repeat such a mistake in front of the gambler.

Aventurine then laughed, only serving to raise Sunday's hackles further in realization that he was now taking the lead and that in such mercy might lead to yet another puppet string away from what he could truly be, truly want. Still, there was little he could do especially at realization of where Aventurine was going with such a line, and that he wasn't wrong.

Establishing a new life will not erase the past. He was all too aware the disservice he had done for his sister Robin. Aware of what once was his home planet Penacony and even if he had faced everything knowing there was a possibility that he would not turn back, had he ever accounted about a scenario if he did?

In one dance manuever, Aventurine indeed favoured the bold suddenly tipping Sunday and snatching his waist, feeling him up a little much to the red shade on his cheeks that he couldn't hide, damn the flamboyant gambler with no shame and in his outfit holding a few pockets, he felt something slip inside.

Sunday wasted no time, redirecting moving in a way for one hand hidden near the disturbed pocket and hiding from anyone else, taking a feel. To feel slips of paper. And in another move, to seemingly give a 360 of the room when he was only using the chance to take a glance at his pockets, to see the slips of his paper were...

When had Sunday become so expressive, from the stone mask he had carefully cultivated to see mirrored in Aventurine's eyes the slight fall in his face? The simple vulnerability upon realizations he had never dare to confront until now, in believing he would have the time to process and was yet force to take it all at once?

Sunday immediately set back his own poker face, honed from the gentle neutrality served as Bronze Melodia and polite charm to all the guests serving as nominal leader to all the Family after such duties were thrusted to him from Gopher Wood.

"Why would you give me Robin's tickets? Where would you get such... premium ones?" Sunday asked.

"The good ol' luck on raffle-" Sunday cut off Aventurine immediately before he heard more BS.

"No, these are truly exclusive. These can only be gotten, especially now... if Robin herself sent it to you or given to you personally."

"Nothing escapes you, huh?" Aventurine mused, "Does it really make you mad that I did not stay away from your sister?"

"... Robin can associate with whoever she wants, whether it ends up advisable or not, but to give you those tickets and for you to give them to me..." Sunday said, trailing off wondering whether Aventurine would fill in the blanks or not.

"Well, tickets for two if you want to bring a plus one. As much as I am honored to get them from Miss Robin, I initially refused because I unfortunately had plans for that particular day but she insisted for me to take them, in the case that I find any fans especially devoted ones that appeal to me to give them away. Now that I think about it, she was hugging a very familiar plush bunny when she told me that and was quite confident about her assessment that the tickets will get to a potential certain fan before the concert even starts. Glad she's not wrong."

'Mr. Bun Bun...' Sunday cussed out, for the autonomy that his toys had gotten and while stalwart friends to Sunday as the best partners he could hope for in battles far and wide and beyond in these current circumstances, he would not be the only one they would be loyal friends to.

'Why do you always insist on butting in my business? How do you always manage to communicate with Robin without me knowing?'

Sunday's eyes closed, a moment where one would signify exasperation but really a span of time that instantaneous answer can be given. At least not headache inducing enough to stop whatever he was doing and simply feel... exasperated. Annoyed. Maybe even angry.

A sister longing for a brother. A brother cowardly in disguise to greet. An improper goodbye, only with a faint promise of reunion under the stars. And yet, a sister musing that she might be stronger because she knew, and yet she had been waiting. She will be waiting no matter what universe as long as they were brother and sister...

The vessel for THEM still of his own being, with toys at beck and call and yet free when not truly servants of THEM and for all the experiences abound, moving through dreams the vessel dares not come times too many. More often, a bunny will land in a songstress' dreams, idle chatter that the brother of hers had yet to really deliver in an ascetic journey to self. So much was talked from family to home, that it was easy to sympathize and they both knew this true, that brother has to stop being a coward and making excuses and finally give a proper reuinion that will satisfy all.

Ms. Halo and the Genesis crew will truly give him less grief than Mr. Bun Bun ever will. So he was suddenly not allowed to just enjoy his life?! Yeah, if it was at the expense of his sister that he left hanging apparently. Should he have addressed that sooner or later? Well, is he technically still a criminal and on the run?

Sunday was starting to understand what Mr. Bun Bun meant by excuses and a cowardly nature leading to this so-called idleness that Aventurine had spouted out, adding onto everything really.

'Loose ends. Penacony? Your sister?' Sunday recalled what Aventurine had told him. Sunday may be one man, and he may insist that it had nothing to do with him when he embraced the Stellaron Hunters taking him in, a script that had already long been written about a separation. An opposition.

And yet, such scripts were admitted to have deviations. Sunday didn't necessarily have to be a puppet on a string. He had learned much insofar with his adventures with Kafka and Blade, always hinting at something and right now with Aventurine...

It could be said he was biding his time but was it really in his nature to bide it in idleness, without making any moves of his own? To just get comfortable with the life he was settling towards, in wariness of a certain cat when that doesn't mean his old life won't rear its head every once in a while. 

Such as the bigger fish he had to fry when he once more focused on Aventurine. 

Don't think Sunday was unaware about that shit-eating grin Aventurine was now wearing. Now, pettiness truly ran through his own veins, because far be it for him to let the damn gambler always have the last laugh in these interactions whether that means being one-upped during his interrogation with Aventurine about Robin's 'murder' or not getting the perfume he saw an ad on social about, liked it and went to get it to only see Aventurine also liking it, commenting that he will take it all and that he actually did... no customer consideration whatsoever.

No matter how much Sunday can respect his opponents, he can be equally petty. He had gauged and let Aventurine bask whatever win he had achieved. With the song almost coming to an end and the idea he was getting about this unexpected continued collaboration Robin might have with this man, he settled on the move that would annoy Aventurine the most.

The continuation of a calm and unbothered facade. A graceful smile that he had once given him after giving Aventurine a trial, leaving for the other's shit-eating grin to dim as the eyes told Sunday enough about the speculations his body response was giving to Aventurine, to wonder about any moves set or any holes prepared.

When there were none at the beginning, truly unsettling for Aventurine who thinks he knows Sunday despite the comment about idleness. It really begs belief that someone like Sunday could afford to do nothing at the information Aventurine had given. But it was in doing that that will give Sunday the last laugh, knowing his non-actions would agitate Aventurine and give him the one-up Aventurine already has on Sunday.

As much as Sunday detest Robin from unsavoury characters, always prefering to be one step ahead to clear the road for her from miseries such characters can bring, Sunday knew deep down begrudgingly that Aventurine was not a bad person. Robin was more than capable to stand up to a man like that, and Mr. Bun Bun would definitely make sure nothing truly bad happened to her, considering how attached that toy is to his sister.

Sunday realized this out-of-character move for what it is and a bold one at that to inflict... psychological warfare tactics onto Aventurine in exchange for the information he was given. One could also say it doesn't change his principles one bit, simply being through to make up what happened in Penacony and how he was upstaged by the gambler and doctor despite everything working out well enough.

Consider this... once in a while boldness and potential carelessness a way to embrace imperfections and mistakes his once frigid self could not hope to do and yet, it was a sign of growth he chose to allow on himself. A sign of adaptability toeing the line with frivolous in order to look ahead any moves, let it stew and see the results. He was especially allowing this, because pettiness is healing.

"Thank you then, for the tickets," Sunday said gracefully, ignoring over anything Aventurine wanted to imply, "I will make sure these are put to good use. Despite everything, I appreciate the gesture. Hopefully, you wouldn't be too much of a terrible influence to Robin."

The song's ending tone allowed Sunday to momentarily sweep Aventurine off his feet, an easier feat than one expected when that little psychological warfare tactic called leaving them hanging allowed Sunday to literally leave Aventurine hanging by hands clasped together at one side with the other hand circling around Aventurine's waist. Sunday looked deeply into Aventurine's eyes, wondering in bemusement what his sincereity will be read, in the position that Sunday had to look down to Aventurine while Aventurine looked up.

In the applause of such a power move, Sunday said, "I hope you enjoy the rest of the party, Mr. Aventurine."

Sunday had left, with gains and much to think as he walked away from Aventurine, without looking back as if he didn't care whether any alarm was sounded. At the very least, he had already accepted the fact about the things he cannot control, simply doing what he can in the moment and prepare whatever he had on hand for whatever the future brings. At least, he was quite comfortable with his current lifestyle, even when there are some kinks that he admittedly have to get use to. Still, life has a way of reminding one of their past. Right now, Sunday had to affirm to himself, whether one runs away or face it head on. Whatever choice he made will simply define what he is.

But what happens, as he should have figured early on as a freshly recruited Stellaron Hunter, when you find yourself no choice?

Sunday's phone had vibrated out of his pocket, and without anything of note, he had checked it out for a simple notification text, not from Robin this time but from Silver Wolf.

SW: Wear that earpiece now. ETA in 5. Need some backup.

Sunday didn't hesitate, fishing for an earpiece right into his ear with his hair covering it up from the more observant audience at hand. Phone still at hand, he had put it up to his other ear even when he had no one to call. It gave anyone wanting to approach Sunday for simple chat or otherwise to give enough privacy for what they assumed a phone call.

Not even that far off the mark.

"Vacation over, I presume?" Sunday asked calmly, softly so that no one can hear and yet intelligible enough to Silver Wolf, contacting through a singular earpiece.

"At least you don't sound disappointed, nor even surprised," Silver Wolf said amused, "Welcome to the Stellaron Hunter life until the cat decides you are better off anywhere else for all we know. In any case, you are gonna be my eyes and ears for what will happen... in two minutes."

"That's certainly quick. Figures I can't do anything without it being incorporated into missions for all I know," Sunday said.

"'S not always like that," Silver Wolf said, "But I admit it feels like you are being speedrun to certain checkpoint in-game. Lucky for you, you have got all the-"

Crashing windows and gunfire was all Sunday needed to know how well this mission was going to be. A sudden terrorism attack, with masked black ops having weapons raised raining down to the venue preluding the complete chaos guests alike were now experiencing. Out of curiosity, Sunday had looked towards Aventurine who had also the thought to look back at him. With the unreadable expressions they were both sharing, at least on Sunday's side, he thought Aventurine may have some involvement in this.

"Please tell me I have context," Sunday whispered as he noticed Aventurine making his way over him. Sunday put the phone away, understanding cues that it would be inappropriate otherwise to have a call in such a sticky situation but that obviously does not mean Silver Wolf would cut communications. It just meant Sunday couldn't be obvious talking to Silver Wolf, or not at all as he would now start listening and trying his best to follow whatever instructions that come with this mess.

"Don't worry bud. You are going to have a lot of context. In fact man coming at you has all the context needed too. Don't you love it when fate starts you in the thick of things without any warning and you have to go 'This is just my story right now' no matter how much backstories and unfinished stories you have going on with your character. Kudos to game called reality that has too many branching arcs that require many gameplay and yet mashed into one~"

Sunday was unsure whether Silver Wolf could observe him visually considering this situation Sunday was in had been bound to happen and the support role Silver Wolf had known was going to happen might prepare a way to observe him in all ways than a singular earpiece for currently one-sided communication with people around. And yet, he certainly hoped that she could see the face he was making at this very moment.

It should be known that Silver Wolf was not telepathic so whatever she said next was not going to confirm nor deny whatever Sunday was thinking. At least she was finally getting into the context of whatever is going on:

"So apparently the 'lavish party of this distant rich planet' you got yourself hired into is a rumoured safe space once used by the Marketing Development Department head now that he recently stopped using 'coz someone let slip about knowing the place and is now known as a liability lol. More to the point, this party happening now's putting out too many red flags for the MDD head and finding it sus so in order to cut back his losses, there are hired guns to destroy everything along with juicy secrets a safe space can possibly have of such an elusive head and put it surface-wise as unknown terrorism event."

Sunday really hoped that Silver Wolf added visual aspects to her observation with the nearing Aventurine as he asked in convoluted hand gestures or mouthing away from Aventurine without anyone looking at him about why they were involving themselves with the damn IPC, not a behemoth one really wants to face against as a criminal or worse yet get indebted to.

This time, Silver Wolf was kind enough to telepathically (even if she cannot) answer what Sunday was trying to convey:

"IPC is a no-go for any kinda involvement although all they could do for us Hunters is rack up a bounty we all like to brag about. Sure you wouldn't like to get involved with them either with Penacony and meeting that peacock of all times but whether you like it or not, IPC ends up a central force in the universe's workings and one way or another, with this game going, it's a plot point versions later will explore that script ain't gonna leave hanging. You ain't gonna involve yourself too badly in this gameplay but it still needs some fine tuning and backstory additions before the thicker of things will get going, and what with that boss of ours excels at and needs us to do."

"For what you really hafta do, peacock incoming will pull you straight into it and you gotta flow yourself into it per usual. Just button mash your way, gg, altho I promise I won't leave ya hanging~"

And true to Silver Wolf's words, Aventurine was already face to face with him the moment Sunday turned around. Vacation was truly over, and the script decided to need him without giving the finer details. 

'My involvement isn't going to be too much here,' Sunday reassured himself from what Silver Wolf had said, even if he couldn't help but brace the 'flow' as Silver Wolf called it. He hadn't done enough missions yet to wholly get use to it, but he knew every mission he involves somehow connects one way or another with the comfort that he didn't have to see it through to the very end once his job was done. 

That may seem annoying, but Sunday rather focus on what he truly cared more and stopped at the points left for him in the necessary tasks assigned but going no further than that. It was with such resolve that Sunday could steel himself the moment Aventurine offered his hand:

"Would you honour me this dance?"

Chapter Text

Aventurine had not expected to meet Sunday again, and be bamboozled into dance but two can play it that game.

"Would you honour me this dance?" Aventurine asked, holding a hand towards Sunday who was startled by this new gesture.

It was an odd thing to ask, in the midst of all this chaos of this venue. An audience who might once be interested from the fiery dance that they once displayed cared little except for their own safety and the only people left were those that rather have no loose ends and would start tying them up... at gunpoint to the two that were now playing this unfathamoble charade.

Aventurine cared little about their latest audience, focusing on his query in front of him who simply stared at the hand with knitted eyebrows, obvious exasperation and a wary countenance that could not be spotted by anyone else except for those close to him.

Such behaviour would make it easy to think that Sunday would reject such a gesture. A person who never wanted to risk, who had once declared himself so opposite of the gambler lifestyle Aventurine made his own with a controlling personality that simply went at odds, would surely reject the gesture with such an unknown outcome. In fact, knowing that, it would make Aventurine seem silly to even offer his hand in the first place, especially in circumstances that would make such gestures insane, such feuds inconsequential.

And yet, fortune favours the bold. Luckily for Aventurine, fortune had always favoured him whether he wanted it to or not.

Regardless, it was startling to find himself in such a position. Being taken to dance and that irksome conversation with Sunday acting so gracious, politely obtuse and so unlike him leaving the gambler confused and absolutely sure something was up even if there was frustrating little to go by that gave Aventurine petty reason to turn the tables and leave himself the victor of their situation.

All Sunday had to do was take his hand.

If any of his coworkers were here, they would have been exasperated at him for playing around with this obviously wanted criminal who suspiciously remained silent after his break-in at the IPC officially, and at the Xianzhou unofficially because the latter barely had proof of Sunday's involvement and even if it did, it amounted to petty crimes that paled to something as grandoise as IPC break in and the Order conspiracy.

And yet, this perfectly fitted Aventurine's style, to seemingly play around when a deeper meaning stuck steadfast through his actions. This meeting was of no coincidence and fortune was favouring this tryst.

He would also do anything to get a good chip and pay back what was owed to him. There were many ways until he sees Sunday in chains, so why not make most of the journey until then?

In the end, Aventurine smiled when Sunday took his hand, wordless in his affirmation to not rub this in but letting Aventurine take his first victorious step in yet a new dance of tension and workaround.

Just in time too, when the guns already rang out their latest waltz. Aventurine wasted no time, chips at hand and Preservation coming through the aventurine stone now repaired to serve its master's whims.

"Going all in. Tabs on me."

The coins had taken the bullets for them and many others, raining chips that had easily drawn all eyes to the fleeing duo and apparently recognizable for the gunned men to chase after them instead.

"Is this what you have been really in this party for?" Sunday asked, "I would kindly ask not to get involved."

"You were the one to take my hand," Aventurine drawled, "Deal with it."

"Please at least have some-" Sunday started saying, but the gunmen had approached them within their blind spots, guns raised that Aventurine didn't have enough time to shield himself once more to those bullets. Even if he was sure the shield intact from his skill held, he cursed himself for getting off guard and prepared to taste the bullet.

"Torment and doubt, I bid you farewell."

Sunday apparently didn't seem to think so, holding a book unfastened from inside his jacket that he now let flutter to show the fastener for the book cinched around his waist. The pages flipped as if caught by the wind, glowing to summon cherub angels Aventurine flashed back from whenever the Trailblazer had summoned his help for in Echo of Wars especially to face the Great Septimus and almost froze when the angels started encircling him but felt uplifted instead as if holy light bathed him and gave a miraculous turnabout if he was that much of a believer to the holy.

Whatever the case, it caused the soliders to be somehow slower to the draw in firing their weapons, as if Aventurine was now advanced forward for a fresh turn, which he will gladly take.

"Can't lose this one."

"Seek redemption."

A dice and glowing halo had both hit the enemies, not necessarily one-shotting them but allowing Aventurine and Sunday the turn to retreat, where Aventurine was now leading Sunday towards before any unexpected enemies can blindside them.

"Didn't know you were also changing up your style. What happened to your baton and birds?" Aventurine asked, a curious innocent question that seeked out to gather more information to try figuring out this puzzling Sunday.

Sunday looked a little confused before he had a brief annoyed expression and finally settled on neutrality as he answered calmly, "I can choose which style suits the situation better than not. What does that truly matter with a swarm of enemies gatecrashing the party. Do you have any idea why this is happening?"

"Don't you?" Aventurine asked, in a little disbelief that his meeting with the former Oak head family right now has been a coincidence. He couldn't believe that the control freak would just be going with the flow even in this chaotic situation. What do you mean Sunday doesn't have some kind of plan?

He needed to know so he can use whatever Sunday was up to for his own advantage. Such cards would never hurt.

"Would I be asking you if I had any idea?" Sunday asked, a classic misdirection if for anything else but it was easy to tell that whatever cards Aventurine wanted out of Sunday would be cards kept close to his chest.

At least that much hasn't changed, with the mind games they choose to apply themselves in the stages they have seen themselves on. Aventurine knew they wouldn't get anywhere if they chose to out-stubborn each other but a game can only be played when one allows a few losses to gain bigger wins and Aventurine knew better in gambles the adaptability to read the room to lose battles and later win wars.

Even when Aventurine and Sunday had once been enemies with a rocky relationship 'til now, it does not mean that differences cannot be reconciled, at least momentarily, to team up like they would be doing now meaning that some leeway, a little form of trust, had to be given even with their suspicions against each other.

"Touche," Aventurine responded smoothly, "I guess it may really be the luck in the cards to coincidentally meet you at the venue where the Market Developing Department head had once stored his greatest secrets within and had now hired guns to retrieve them back when they have been exposed."

"I had no idea the IPC would become this careless nor I would find myself potentially aiding some corporation in-fighting between their departments," Sunday casually accused, something that Aventurine knew better to take the bait for, "Indeed, really the luck of the cards for this coincidential meeting."

Whatever makes him sleep better at night. Even though Aventurine had ideas why Sunday was here, they could not be made real without confirmation and directness would be too early a play for circumstances like these so going with the flow it is~

"Potentially aiding? Does that mean you are interested in this little team-up we have going on? Doesn't seem like someone not in the know to just help for no other reason than just because," Aventurine pointed out.

"Since I'm here and involved whether I like it or not, might as well," Sunday affected a casual shrug that did not suit the poised handsome man that he once knew, especially cutthroat and through in all ways to outscheme any scheming during their very first confrontation in guise of interrogation that even helped Sunday a little bit if Aventurine's running amok hadn't deterred Sunday from his true agenda in finding Robin's 'murderer' at the time if he got his sources correct on how the whole story unfolded.

If this was some kind of reverse psychology tactic with this seemingly casual and blaise Sunday, it was actually working because who was this man? What happened?

Aventurine's instinct, the one failsafe above all even when nothing made sense in so many points in his life once upon a time, decided that playing along wouldn't really hurt. A lot of people have been screwed over by the IPC at one point of time and wouldn't need much reason to sow the seeds of discord or garner potential information from such a well-off corporation that could give a leg up against the IPC people would so desire.

Especially with what happened to Penacony even though Sunday cut off ties in the life of a run, his misguided actions paved from a wish for paradise was to his belief in benefitting the planet. Now that the IPC was still on a passive showdown with the Family for the rights to the planet, with never ending negotiations that have now put both somewhat in charge of the planet with the Astral Express as a shareholder to mediate last Aventurine heard, it wouldn't surprise Aventurine the convinence in this teamup if it could help against the IPC in any way.

For Penacony.

Fortune favours the bold, Avneturine reminded hmself. This was initiated by himself, to the very long game that he set himself up. Sure Sunday was an unknown variable but that was all there is in such a game of stakes.

And this type of game they were having now was all thrill but no real world-shattering risks. Unless you count possibility of death with how trigger happy their enemies are, after fending off yet anoter few terrorists as they kept running around, Aventurine with a destination in mind of course.

And yet he must be a tad too slow because the moment he rounded the corner, a gun was already in his face by a disgruntled Boothill who realized who he was pointing too and yet didn't bother to lower the gun when he drawled:

"I didn't come teaming up with you just so you can get up with your little trysts and letting me do the heavy work."

"Information isn't enough anymore?" Aventurine asked, facing towards Boothill who was apparently not trigger shy to aim the gun at both enemy and 'ally' when he could almost feel the cool metal on his forehead. Sunday meanwhile had watched the exchange with morbid fascination but didn't do anything to stop this latest development. How cold.

As Aventurine's eyes had darted to the Halovian, Boothill's did too as his eyes widened in surprise and said, "Son of a gun! I didn't expect the former Oak leader to even be here too. Are you also here to screw over the IPC? With the bounty over your head, it's a good way to remind 'em why it can get higher and twist their uppity tights."

"It's a pleasure seeing you here as well," Sunday greeted corteously, "You could say I'm just right on time for such an unexpected party. Does this mean you are going to shoot Mr. Aventurine by now?"

Cold. How could he say that so casually? Or was he getting some kick out of this after their previous meetups? Despite the words, Aventurine did notice Sunday's hand gripping the book that was his catalyst weapon and that his eyes never strayed from Boothill's own or the steady gun at hand. Even now, he still asessed and may even step in to avoid such bloodshed.

That would make sense, as far as Aventurine knew because Sunday's cutthroat merciless methods as a leader to a planet like Penacony does not continue down to violent bloodshed, only possibly something worse from Harmony that Aventurine would never underestimate again. But at least it meant Aventurine was not going to die today, even without Sunday's interference should things escalate that far.

True to such a thought, Boothill had lowered his gun with a little flair before holstering it with an aggravated sigh as if he would prefer shooting, "Nah, as much as I don't give a shirt 'bout any IPC dog, enemy of my enemy is my friend and we both have this common interest against a certain Marketing Development Head. And I have no reason to shoot down my interests like that when there are bigger fish to fry."

"And for that I am grateful," Aventurine said, noticing out of the corner of his eye that Sunday had relaxed his stance. So he was really seen as an ally at least for this occassion. Good to know. He continued addressing Boothill, "How has things gone down on your end?"

"Those shirtbags are just paid good bunch of credits knowing nothing," Boothill said, disgusted, "Only following instructions like scatterbrained monkeys knowing how to get bananas. Rest of the laymen know how to clear once things start shooting and buncha people here know how to keep it together so we might be the only people here rather than those shirtbags getting at that."

"Well, that much would be expected," Aventurine mused, more used to the censored cowboy speech Boothill's Synthesia Beacon granted him than Sunday who's wings twitched a little even as he was trying to process all the words and forming whatever conclusion he could possibly get out of it.

"No more dilly dallying, your pieces have already been set up just like you smart alecks figured, y'know? So are we getting it or not?" Boothill impatiently asked.

"The answer should be obvious, yes?" Aventurine smoothly answered to Boothill's impatience, "Now who said information wasn't enough."

"You did," Sunday finally spoke up, having just passively listened in on he conversation until now.

"Regardless, lead the way Mr. Boothill. Let's hope whatever Oswaldo was hiding up and wanted destroyed enough for us to take advantage of," Aventurine said, ignoring Sunday's peanut gallery comment and Boothill was more eager to get the show on the road to do much else.

True to word, they had ran into more enemies and no distressed guests as the party emptied out into a battlefield between interested parties for a strike against a mutual enemy. At least for Boothill and Aventurine.

It was the Strategic Investment Department, not the Marketing Development Department that spearheaded 'business' with Penacony so it would make more sense that Sunday would rather find dirt on Aventurine or his boss Diamond than on Oswaldo.

Maybe any blow on IPC was a good blow enough but that didn't mean he should look out for how this might affect against him.

He still couldn't discern Sunday's motives, more blank than ever since their first meeting in Penacony. On the run, even with old motivations that could fuel purposes in livelihood, the defeat and subsequent aftermath could twist them to the unknown.

Who was Sunday now?

A good question because as much as Aventurine can thrive in the unknown, he had little desire to remain back footed like this. Unfortunately he conceded that there was little he can still do even if his thoughts went overdrive on the matter with his heightened guard well donned after that 'execution' but actions have always spoken louder than thoughts and he reassured himself that this wasn't the first time he felt this back footed and that he could only move forward.

Because what else can he do, even when he was waiting for Sunday to slip up something. Making small talk, getting perfunctory responses and metaphorically shot down by Boothill. So he wasn't getting much this time. It makes the great Doctor Ratio a wonderful partner in comparison to the ones he was stuck with now.

But he digressed, because in the end with his own information and Boothill's skill in getting things done finally landing them to Oswaldo's stored secrets. And just like any stored secrets, they would be largely protected this time by the hired guns that beat them to the punch, having spotted them and engaged in the good old stare down before guns, literally, were pulled out with confrontation as inevitable as ever.

"Let's duel, fair and square!"

Boothill had an agressive aura that tautns the enemies even when it shouldn't have worked as effectively to show a lockdown but the gunslinger was of course quicker to draw, shooting the bullets straight to the enemy with zero hesitation.

"Fire! Here's your final reward!"

The enemies were downed immediately, one by one by great teamwork even with this hastily made team much like how the Trailblazer would direct them on their comissions.

But there were many more where they came from, most only temporarily immobilised but not defeated as they struggled to move and get some hits in before the rest of them taken their turns.

"It's of no consequence."

Sunday lightly brushed such attacks off, but it just meant that Aventurine had to put a shield to it. Boothill was the main aggressor but it didn't mean Sunday and Aventurine were idly waiting by the side lines, especially when the enemy recovered enough to line their own shots against Boothill, ready to fire if not for...

"Serenity stands clear before me."

The cherubs made it to the scene in time, for Boothill to take the shot before the enemy could try their very own one-shot in a duel to the death that Boothill had to taunt him for.

However those cherubs can't come quickly all the time, necessitating Aventurine to fuel up his sheiks and powering up himself until he could attack instead of just defend, all with the luck of the gamble as they still surround themselves to the enemy, aggressively attacking as always.

"The dice have been cast. Bust? Or, maybe I will take it all!"

Aventurine had made it in the nick of time for an enemy, setting down the roulette with enough chips in play for the following move.

"All in!"

The rain of chips fell down on the enemies' head,  bouncing off at random except for his own allies of course.

"Remember to aim for the heart!"

Even when Boothill got the worst brunt of the damage, his taunting nature still did not falter, simply grinning like a maniac at the situation before him.

"There's no reasoning with you bunch anymore. There are only two kinds of people in the world-those with a loaded gun... and those who dig their own grave!"

Boothill aimed his gun towards the boss, with heavier hitting bullets that left explosions altho other enemies nearby didn't get hit by any crossfire. It was strong enough to spell defeat, and a few more bullets fired with cherubs and coins flying between all of them were enough for this three man team to finish up the enemies and for Aventurine to finally get what he came for, which ended up being Oswaldo's little chest of secrets.

The chests contained documents, disappointing Boothill who couldn't read when he tried to look over his shoulder and was hidden boldly from Sunday who didn't call him out on it and was interacting with his cherubs, a little too close to call from his boss form that the Trailblazer likes to do battle within memory, especially with Robin but he had more pressing matters to contend to, with Oswaldo's frank madness.

Aventurine couldn't even be bothered to wonder what that madman Oswaldo was thinking, double checking the possessed documents validity. Sometimes, Aventurine almost found it hard to believe someone originating from a Trailblaze background all about establishing connections between glaxies had destroyed many of their planets instead and the livelihoods that go with it, with Aventurine himself and Boothill being core evidence to this. His wrongdoings unfortunately stil remain seen and yet untouchable for his position at the IPC and how some planets apparently do not matter enough for such crimes to be pinned against the man.

There was no use thinking much in this, Aventurine knows, once he got what he came for about what had been left and sent to retrieve about the Market Development Department head. He looked again at his allies especially Sunday, still feeling unnerved how so far the control freak he last known just took everything in stride without batting an eyelid even though he cannot deny his support was timely and made the whole operation smoother.

Sunday didn't even pry, even to the very end, with such lack of curiosity that this acting out of character reverse psychology going on for Sunday was having Aventurine still steeling for a punchline that was never coming. Satisfying himself instead that the results matter in the end, it will not go to waste especially for what Aventurine and Boothill had in common. It would also be incredibly useful to an Astral Express alliance he got a good feeling about, when it has the Akivili connection considering Oswaldo's Trailblazing involvement and frankly his universal actions against them.

Still... in the end, Aventurine couldn't take it even as they were parting their ways and decided he could finally be frank if he needed anything from this Halovian man.

"Why did you bother helping us? Helping me?"

"Just atoning my sins," Sunday clasped his hands, in prayer, "Just because of what I have done doesn't mean that evil disguised as goodness will get past me."

He had only been returned goodwill. Maybe there really was all to it, but Aventurine was disinclined to believe as such.

A man like Sunday doesn't go far as he is with just goodwill, after all.

***

Once Aventurine and Boothill were gone, Silver Wolf made her appearance, hologram and all. Sunday had been thrown off a little but promptly used the Harmony to disguise himself a more unassuming man. Even now, it was understood that Sunday couldn't be too involved with the Hunters, lest anyone else find out... and make things more complicated.

His story wouldn't even mention much of it in the eyes of the world and to the progressions expected of him. It wasn't a need to know for what would be his new beginnings, especially when behind the scenes like this rarely ever get acknowledged except for a footnote or layered under massive speculation.

In the end, everything was simply work in the shadows, something she had already made clear through one-sided conversations and instructions with Sunday as he worked with Aventurine and Boothill against Oswaldo.

Now all that's left was the aftermath and cleanup more tailored for a sequel rather than an ending scene Boothill and Aventurine ignorantly left behind, meaning they had been tasked to clean up tracks and also leave certain hints that any important characters want to explore this place would spot well enough for a nice little arc. This marked the first time that she had to work with Sunday, 'in-person' rather than a disembodied voice.

Sunday was certainly a different person she would ever work with, even now leaving credits to compensate for actions he had no choice otherwise to do. Like an ever running gag. Goody two shoes in a way that would never be suited for the Hunters lifestyle.

Or maybe just adding a bleeding heart into their dynamic, for all she knew. A variety personality wise in dynamics can spice things up. And yet, it was enough to make Silver Wolf wonder about the new player Elio wanted to bring into the mix, whether it will be main force or support. Or even spy.

Those who do not get entangled into the Stellaron Hunter name by now, even as some trump card criminal of his own, certainly lied greater plans than sticking to one faction alone. That was what happened with a member of theirs, dancing to fate and being left in a certain station...

Sunday was different, of course. There was a lot of possibilities and potentials. A lot of storylines and choices, but at least what Silver Wolf knew, it wasn't her storyline and choice at play. Neither Sunday's even if it has to do with him.

Because whenever have characters really had much say in their storyline and choices away from the player's eyes with favours and expectations?

Life had always been a game to Silver Wolf, even when reality was rarely shown that way to many others but she understood better how life is truly played and how much they aren't the protagonists or players of their own lives but the characters to roll for, push the story forward in ever-defining roles even with NPC like behaviour. Elio recruiting her into it just made this perspective all the more understandable and valuable.

And it was easy to spot who's the protagonist, the player and many other roles in the game story especially for her to jokingly break meta and the fourth wall because of how the game was played.

So it was easy to spot that people like her, like Sunday, like the Stellaron Hunters were nowhere near close to being protagonists. But just as important, if to just pave a road, provide an obstacle and the experience required for ongoing stories to the endings desired. Which is what they were doing now.

Any upcoming battles would be really hard without some DPS or sustain, that Boothill and Aventurine were. Then again, the Stellaron Hunters lacked any paths to sustain them even with Sunday's latest addition only offering additional pure support that Silver Wolf could only partially give in making sure enemies were given weakness through her skilled hacking.

Although it could be said whether they needed any sustainers when half of their band were foolhardy to brave dangers with life-threatening fighting styles either because death is a distant dream they sought or they bravely put their life in front-line to truly live, it might seem they very much need a healer but at least one person would claim it wholly unnecessary.

High risk, high reward players, but sometimes that style would not suit every mission they carry out.

This was why they had played  to their strengths and avoided battles, purely disguised thanks to the power of Harmony. Supportive indeed that they had yet to need a sustain.

"Don't make it too obvious!" Silver Wolf now scolded, as they had been retracing their steps, "Sure you can reveal some misguided good Samaritan crossing a warzone with the credits you had too much from nepotism but don't be that much of a noob with important evidence."

"Important planted evidence," Sunday raised a brow, removing a gadget best recognized coming from Herta's Space Station (maybe because it is, maybe it isn't by Silver Wolf's zipped lips) and looking around as if there would be any more inconspicious hiding places that only Silver Wolf seem to figure out than his own shoddy attempts.

This is why the universe needs more heist-like video games, not like the winged birdie over there had played any video games at all before if she had understood from the data that she had gathered a little before making his acquaintance because it's nice to unlock potential ally's profile for her own perusal.

"Who cares about the details?" Silver Wolf dismissed Sunday's odd complaint, "We all got what we wanted in the end."

"Certainly," Sunday mumbled, and while outwardly Sunday looked fine, Silver Wolf had already picked up on his own habits and thus can comment:

"Seriously," Silver Wolf snorted, "No one can be that much of a noob. You just seem spaced out lately, caffeine stealer. Some people just can't handle the buzz but I've seen enough visual novel tropes to get that it's more than that."

"For who our leader is, I can't say I'm surprised that nothing gets looked over between any of you," Sunday muttered, clapsing his hands.

"Us," Silver Wolf surprised herself from letting slip the word, "Don't forget who you ended up working with. At least get the camaderie right."

Sunday looked like he had a lot to say and yet just mhm-ed Silver Wolf's sentiment. The silence almost had Silver Wolf speaking up, knowing Sunday never really addressed what Silver Wolf had implied but then Sunday beat her to it, finally speaking up his mind.

"Am I really a part of 'us', Miss Silver Wolf? Just because I ended up working with you, do I really work with you all?"

"Putting some distance between us already birdie?" Silver Wolf quirked an eyebrow towards an unimpressed Sunday, "Was that all you are worried about?"

"It's not just that," Sunday protested as he had curiously observed Silver Wolf's S-ranking skills in heist games that hopefully spreads the exp around so that Sunday could be levelled up enough to pick up slack next time something like this happens, "Where is this heading? Because even the script's preview to what happens to me next doesn't really cover  what would truly happen."

"What makes you say that?" Silver Wolf probed.

"I have been shown endless possibilities," Sunday sighed, "And while my the heart of my goals will never change, it seems that my story is not set in stone as I explore finding my meaning. Even the script, forgive me for saying, may not be infalliable."

"Well, isn't that the truth?" Silver Wolf snorted, "Are you realizing that now? You never noticed some plot holes from some of our scripts. Sure we want our best endings but that doesn't discount the endings we leave behind with our different choices. That's how the best games can be played with its multiple routes and endings. The script was never meant to be that linear birdie."

"Please don't call me that," Sunday quickly rebutted to Silver Wolf's snort before furrowing his eyebrows, "What does that mean for me now?"

It was so out of the blue, out of context and certainly meant to be said for the self, with the whisper that followed. Silver Wolf had no idea what he wanted to hear, nor did she care because...

"Depends what exactly you mean by that. Being with us, doing any of this? Or the what-ifs that are not happening anyway. In the end, the story will find itself wrapping up whatever us characters do to it."

Sunday said nothing, in silent contemplation.

"And that's all up to you, ain't it like any other game character, sure with their own programmed lore and backstories but with choices that lead you to whatever future endings you hope to achieve. Until then, enjoy this slice-of-life before you write us off."

"Well, thank you Miss Silver Wolf for such insights. Are we done here?" Sunday asked, having scanned the area and picking up quickly on Silver Wolf's heisting skills to mess up the room they were in now evidence-wise for whatever plot the IPC radio can pick up and relay back to the Nameless in ah... some side event quest or whatever until after their major versions.

"More less, yeah. Good to be back in the swing of things, eh?" Silver Wolf can make a little small talk just to ease Sunday with this colleague thing going on between them.

"Shows that holidays do not last long," Sunday was well-versed in small talk too considering his position even though Silver Wolf felt the time they spent together meant a good enough companionship although Sunday had question his position within the faction just a bit ago, "I guess it's time to wrap up destiny like how we wrapped up this mission."

Even as Sunday said that, Silver Wolf with her character analysis skills when it comes to investigative visual novels to get right choices with character interrogation that came up with her vast genres in games can pick up that the man was still looking around the room, as if there were gaps that he missed and needed to straighten out. Just like how he had questioned about how he was working with Stellaron Hunters, thinking about other endless possibilities and wondering about his role. Silver Wolf could have snorted and told him that he didn't have to worry about going back to square one, about how being lost was normal in this reality called game without save, load and storylines but refrained from telling, knowing that destiny at this moment for themselves would help him figure out for this storyline instead of any others already spreading over with whatever different choices had been made.

Destiny has never been linear but this wasn't the worst path taken by far, and the waypoints to each plot as numerous as they are to track them on course.  

The gaps would always be filled up, one way or another.