You kept to yourself, a quiet presence in the bustling halls of the Tulpar. While others found solace in each other’s company, you chose the hum of machinery and the cold, steady rhythm of your work. You were an engineer, a mechanic, and when things got desperate, a pilot. The ship seemed to rely on you more than most, like it was held together by the strength of your hands and the hours you poured into keeping it alive.

The Tulpar wasn’t a welcoming place, not anymore. The constant repairs, the dwindling resources, the tense faces of the crew—all of it spoke to how close the ship was to falling apart.

Daisuke was different. An intern, young and optimistic, with a smile that seemed out of place on a ship like this. You’d seen him around, trailing after Swansea during repairs, talking and helping Anya. But more than that, you'd noticed him watching you. Sometimes, when you were deep in your work, you’d look up and catch him glancing your way. Like he wanted to understand something that no one else did.

You weren’t sure what he was looking for, and you didn’t really care. You had enough to deal with without trying to decipher his wide-eyed curiosity. But that didn’t stop him from trying.

One day, as you crouched in the dimly lit hallway, patching up a mess of wiring, you heard quick, eager footsteps approaching. You were used to being ignored and preferred it that way.

You glanced up to find him standing there, eyes wide with curiosity, his grin unreasonably hopeful. You could see in his face: a desire to connect. But you didn’t have the time or patience for chatter. Not now, not when the freighter was practically hanging by a thread and so much of it depended on you.

“Whatcha doing there?” The voice was bright, almost too cheerful for the dark, flickering corridor. Daisuke’s voice.