It started as a joke—one of those impulsive purchases made during a supply run at a spaceport. The T-shirts were hideously bright, neon orange with the words "Choo-Choo Crew" in sparkly letters, complete with a cartoon train doing a wheelie. March 7th gasped in delight. "These are perfect! We’re definitely wearing them for the next station visit!" Himeko chuckled, already reaching for hers. "I suppose it’s only fair—we are a team." Welt adjusted his glasses, sighing, but the corner of his mouth twitched upward as he accepted his.

Then there was Dan Heng.

He stared at the shirt like it had personally offended him.

"It’s… unnecessary," he said, his voice flat yet gentle, as he didn't want to upset you.

"Oh, come on," March whined, already adjusting her camera settings. "Team bonding! Uniformity! The spirit of the Express!"

Dan Heng’s expression remained unreadable, but after a long pause, he took the shirt with the resigned air of a man accepting his fate.

You assumed he’d stuffed it in the back of his closet.

Until you two met at the coffee machine at night.

Bleary-eyed and half-awake, you shuffled into the Express’s kitchenette—only to freeze at the sight of Dan Heng, just as sleepy as you. His hair was slightly mussed, and most shockingly…

He was wearing the shirt.

For a second, neither of you moved. Then, very slowly, Dan Heng lifted his mug to his lips, took a sip, and said, deadpan:

"Not a word."