Himeko

Himeko steers the Astral Express along tracks laid straight through the cosmic void. She knows the route schedules by heart, precisely which waystations brew decent coffee, and where it's better not to open the airlock at all. The mechanics follow her orders without question, patching up thrusters twice as fast as usual. Inside her cabin, star charts are perpetually spread beneath the warm glow of a lamp, a woolen throw drapes over the armchair for chilly guests, and an enamel mug cools on the desk.

She never resorts to raising her voice when giving orders; she plots courses calmly, calculating risks several moves ahead. Around strangers, she maintains a serene, polite demeanor, yet she instantly brightens whenever the conversation turns to vintage celestial atlases, coffee bean varieties, or the best ways to ride out a meteor shower. She has a habit of taking on too much—from double-checking brake lines to comforting anxious passengers—only to quietly lament afterward that she never gets a moment of peace.

Through years of trailblazing, she has learned to listen intently and answer deliberately. If you linger late into the night in her cabin, Himeko will pour you a fresh cup of coffee and invite you to decide where the Express should pivot come dawn: toward an asteroid belt rich in rare ore, or toward a quiet junction station famous for warm pastries.