Chapter Text
If an artist were ever to depict tranquility, they might start with that scene. The sky covered in orange and pink hues as the sun sets down once more. The gentle cascading of the waterfalls of Petrichor echoing in the distance. Inside, a man cutting vegetables for dinner, humming a song to himself that his daughter, sprawled on the floor a few meters away with color crayons and a sketchbook, tries to mimic.
It takes a slam of the front door to put an end to it.
“Honey, I’m hooome!”
The man started, but years of practice allowed him to keep the grip on the knife and avoid an accident. He rubbed his temple. He had asked his husband so many times to tone down on those triumphant entrances, all in vain.
“Papa, not so loud! I need to concentrate!” you chided, menacingly pointing a crayon at him.
“My bad, sweetie.” Papa bowed, giving you a quick peck on the forehead. He then turned his attention to the man in the kitchen. “I couldn’t help myself. Today is a very exciting day. Today your Oton and I celebrate nine years of marria-”
“It’s next week,” Oton said without bothering to turn around.
“What? Nonsense. You think I don’t know when our wedding anniversary is?”
“Next. Wednesday.” Oton pointed to the calendar hanging on the wall. You followed with great amusement the journey of Papa’s expression from debauchedly confident to confused to panicked.
“Ha! I knew that. As I was saying, today we celebrate nine years of the week before our marriage! I was going to wait until the actual anniversary, but these arrived today and it was so, so hard to get them…”
Oton knew this was his cue to turn around, and so he did. He was immediately greeted by a bundle of soft pink petals and a subtle and delicate smell.
“Sakura blossoms,” he breathed in awe, taking the bouquet in his hands while his husband grinned madly. “But how?”
“Trust me, it wasn’t easy, but that merchant friend of yours just so happened to be going to Inazuma, so I called in a favor. I just had to cry a little bit. And maybe pay a little extra. And promise him a discount next time he buys your fish.”
“You shouldn’t have,” Oton said, but even you could see from the dazed smile on his face that he was very, very pleased with Papa’s gift.
“Anything for you,” Papa murmured in a mellow tone, leaning in to kiss his husband.
You jumped to your feet, leaving the crayons and papers scattered on the floor, and ran up to the men. “I wanna see it too! Let me see, let me see!”
“But of course! You didn’t think I had forgotten about you, did you, champ?” Papa smirked, turning around and producing another, smaller bouquet of Sakura blossoms. You took them gently, afraid that the flowers would suddenly wilt if you gripped too tightly. You brought them to your nose and sniffed deeply, slightly disappointed that the smell was so faint – but the beauty of the flower more than compensated for that.
“Did you know that these are Oton’s favorite flowers?” Papa asked in a whisper, as if letting you in on a secret.
You gasped. “They are mine too!” You had just decided that, but it didn’t matter.
“And did you know that Inazuma has a big, enormous, colossally gigantic Sakura tree blessed by the Almighty Shogun herself?”
You nodded, even though it was your first time ever hearing of it. “I wanna see it! I wanna go to Inazuma!”
“It’s quite a long trip, [Y/N]-chan,” Oton cautioned, ever the sensible one, but he could not keep the smile from his voice.
“We’ll go just the three of us, so the boat will be lighter and move faster. And- and we’ll play games to pass time. Please, I wanna see the Sakuraaaa!”
“We should arrange that someday,” Papa told Oton. He crouched until he was at your eye level and gave you the most illuminated smile. “You’ll see it. You are going to love Inazuma.”
Against all your expectations, the change in routine had done wonders for your mood. You got up at around the same time as Thoma and whoever made it to the kitchen first would get breakfast started. During the first week and a half, Thoma always made sure to be there before you, but afterwards he started arriving when you were just putting the water for the tea to boil. It was almost a competition, though you were not certain that Thoma was aware of that. Not that it mattered, as long as you could start the day enjoying the sweet taste of victory.
Your cooking of Inazuman food had improved once you started making it more often. In little time, Thoma stopped correcting the amount of spices you added and instead hummed appreciatively when he tasted what you had made. It was still nowhere as good as his own cooking – you had to admit that he was an exceptionally talented chef – but it gave you a sense of satisfaction.
Thoma still gave you directions as to what chores to take care of and when, but a few times you had managed to get ahead of him. Like ironing Ayaka’s dress beforehand when you heard that the Shirasagi Himegimi would have a meeting with Guuji Yae. Ayaka had thanked you warmly for the attentiveness, which you took as another victory.
Furuta had called you a couple of times to see the camellia seedlings. The old lady had resumed taking care of the plants herself, now that the hard part was over. Still, you had no interest in being roped into digging through the dirt again, so you always found a reason to busy yourself whenever Furuta approached you. It was not that hard; the Kamisato household did have many chores that needed to be taken care of.
None of your tasks had led you close to the Kamisato siblings’ studies. Whenever that thought wormed into your head, you swatted it away as one would a fly. Ever since that day in Inazuma City, you were committed to completely forgetting about the existence of those rooms. In fact, you barely glanced at the doors when you walked by. By convincing yourself of your disinterest and acting on it, you would eventually convince Thoma. And when you were sure his guard was down, then, and only then, you would strike.
The two of you made a few more trips to Inazuma City, buying items like groceries, fabric, and emergency health supplies (“You would not believe the amount of people who get injured in festivals,” Thoma once told you. “We hired this fire-eater once and…”). Though you already knew that Thoma was doing everything to keep you in his line of sight, those trips made it glaringly obvious. Your presence was wholly unnecessary; Thoma did all the talking, negotiated the delivery arrangements, and, above all, bargained with a fierceness that might have left the Liyue Tianquan in tears.
Just the sight of him was enough for the merchants’ countenance to shift. They would open a smile and reduce prices without being asked to, and then finally agree to reduce them a bit more when asked. Some were more reluctant than others, recalling favors that they had done to the Yashiro Commission in the past, but they eventually relented, knowing that being in the Commission’s good graces would compensate them soon enough. Most of them, however, recalled instead favors that Thoma had done to them and were more than willing to show their continued gratitude and support. It was clear that Thoma had worked many years to build that sort of reputation. You could not help but think that Baptiste would be impressed.
His latest orders had been as expected; since the infiltration had – finally – been successful, you were to continue ingratiating yourself with the Kamisatos, figuring out what kind of deals they had with Watatsumi, and reporting to Sylvain. That last part was tricky. Since Thoma would not let you go farther than ten meters without following, you had not been able to actually meet with Sylvain, but only exchange short messages under the excuse of placing offerings at the Hanamizaka shrine. Messages that made it painfully clear how irritated Sylvain was with your lack of privacy.
When you were back in your room at the Kamisato Estate, after letting the black ribbon soak in water for a few minutes, you read the revealed message: The housekeeper is in the way. Get rid of him.
You rolled your eyes. “Get rid of him,” you repeated in a mocking tone one octave higher than Sylvain’s actual voice. “Just shoot him with your water gun or something, you coward.”
You lit a match and burned the ribbon for safety.
As you exited the room and made your way to the kitchen, where you knew mountains of dirty dishes awaited, a call from Ayaka stopped you.
“Hitomi, would you have a second?” As if you would ever say no to your employer. Still, you nodded, prodding the noblewoman to continue. “I got the impression from our last conversation that you are well-versed in Fontainian music, is that right?”
“Well, I wouldn’t say well-versed,” you started, confused. You prayed to whichever Archon could hear that Ayaka would not ask you to try to play a song from Fontaine. Or worse, sing. “I enjoy it very much, but it is not something I have ever studied or have a talent for.”
“That is not a problem,” Ayaka reassured you with a smile. “Actually, I just wanted to know if you could make me a list with the names of musicians that are popular in Fontaine.”
“Of course, milady. Though I’m not sure which of them would cater to your tastes exactly…”
“No, don’t worry about that. Please, just add the ones you like. You mentioned that this rock’n’roll genre is quite appreciated there, correct?”
You blinked to keep your eyes from widening. Ayaka had truly been paying attention to your ramblings. You had limited your references to rock music as much as you could, and yet Ayaka remembered.
“Correct. Yes, I will do that. If it is not impertinent of me, may I ask what this is for?”
Ayaka allowed herself a small giggle. For a second, with the mischievous gleam that flashed across her eyes, she resembled her brother even more.
“I have to ask you to wait for now. But you will know soon.”
You nodded and excused yourself.
It did not take you long to piece together the puzzle. Thoma had mentioned that the Commission was getting ready to prepare a festival but would not disclose the details for the time being. Now Ayaka asked for suggestions of Fontainian musicians and would not tell you why? Clearly they were planning to have some of these musicians play at the festival. You wondered if you could influence Ayaka’s decision somehow and get a good rock group to come. You would consider it a late “treat yourself” gift for getting into the Kamisato household. Too bad that your favorite rock singer of all time was not from Fontaine.
Knowing about the piles of dirty dishes beforehand did not make them look any less daunting. In fact, one of the piles rose as high as your forehead. You tried to hide your exasperation behind a smile as you positioned yourself at the sink, but it was visibly half-hearted. At the counter beside you, you could see Thoma repress a chuckle as he chopped vegetables for dinner. He was wearing a ridiculous yellow apron with dog paw prints.
“Are you sure that’s all?” you asked pointedly, gesturing to the dishes. Thoma paused and seemed to think for a second.
“Oh, actually,” he took a frying pan and placed it on top of the tallest pile, which now successfully surpassed your head. “Thank you for reminding me.”
“I will take this as a lesson in keeping my mouth shut.”
This time Thoma did snicker, slowly shaking his head as the continued to dice the tomatoes. You got to work, starting with that last frying pan.
“Hey, Hitomi,” he called over the sound of your scrubbing. “You know that the Yashiro Commission sometimes trades festival products with merchants from abroad, right?”
You nodded. After the repeal of the Sakoku Decree, many Inazuman merchants were struggling to get their products to foreign markets. Maritime transportation was expensive, and few international partners wanted to bear the costs of by themselves. The way the Yashiro Commission had found to minimize that problem had been to lower export taxes, buy from merchants that were not able to afford the costs of shipping, and work cheaper and more efficient arrangements for the goods to leave Inazuma in bulk. The hope was that, in the long run, Inazuman merchants would gather enough resources and expertise to arrange that themselves.
“Well, a shipment of ours is leaving from Ritou tomorrow and someone from the Commission needs to be there to check if everything is in order. So we are leaving for Ritou tomorrow morning.”
The teacup that you were washing slipped from your hands. Thankfully, the sink was filled with water, so the ceramic survived intact. Thoma did not even notice. And you knew better than to protest, despite the tightening in your chest.
“Sure.”
Ritou was the closest island to Narukami and yet they seemed worlds apart. None of Narukami’s violet tint reached Ritou. There were no Sakura blooms in sight, no electro crystals sprouting randomly from rocks, not even onikabuto. Instead, Ritou was red. On the rooftops, on the ground, and on the wind that filled the space in between, maple leaves traveled as if they were intent on colonizing every inch of the island. In wintery days of pale blue sky, their crimson hue provided the most breathtaking contrast.
At the outskirts of Ritou, just next to the harbor, there should be a small house with a dark green roof that was never free of leaves, thanks to the maple tree that surely was still there in the courtyard. The house should only have a small kitchen and two equally small bedrooms. There should be a woman living there, and a child – no, a teenager, almost an adult by now.
You had not checked whether the house was still there when you first arrived in Ritou a few months before. You had gotten through the Kanjou Commission’s customs check as fast as you could and darted off to Narukami without looking back. Doing so now, in Thoma’s presence, was out of question. It did not matter, you did not want to know. There was no reason to. It would do you no good.
You just wanted to see if the front door was still stained with your blood-
You shut your eyes and shook your head. Thoma raised his eyebrows at you.
“Just a fly passing by,” you said.
“Well, we made it,” Thoma announced, ignoring your remark. “We have a little bit of time before we have to dispatch the goods, so why don’t we have lunch first?”
You shrugged. “Sure.”
Thoma stared at you. You stared back. Something in his eyes seemed to soften and that immediately made yours harden.
“Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, why?” you crossed your arms over your chest, your tone steely. Thoma continued to stare.
“You’ve been quieter today. We walked for almost three hours and you didn’t make any sarcastic remarks.”
“I thought you didn’t appreciate my sarcasm.”
“Come on now, I never said that!” his pitch rose in mock offense. Then, in a more serious tone, he added, “And that’s not what’s bothering you.”
While Thoma’s alertness was certainly the bane of your existence, you were thankful for it at that moment. It reminded you that you could not falter in your role.
So you rolled your eyes and said, “After such a long walk without eating, I’m surprised that you are so chatty.”
Without waiting for his reply, you walked off and sat down on one of the benches around the main square. A tall maple tree stood at the center of the square, surrounded by a wooden fence from where white paper lanterns hung. Around its roots and spreading a few meters beyond was a bright tapestry of leaves. To some, it might have looked beautiful. To you, it looked like the tree was bleeding and no one was doing anything to stop it.
Thoma sat down beside you and pulled two lunchboxes out of his bag. It was only when the smell hit your nose that you realized you were truly hungry. You picked up the chopsticks and started eating in silence.
Sylvain was somewhere on the island, lying low until it was time to go to Narukami again. You scanned your surroundings for any signs of him, thankful when you found none. You did not need the stress of his presence that day.
You then turned your attention to the shops around the square, the smiling merchants trying to beckon people near, the passersby. There were many more foreigners there than in Narukami, and more than you remembered ever seeing in Inazuma. That surprised you. Why did they not just go home? Could they not feel they were not welcome? Hadn’t that been clear enough from the Kanjou Commission’s essentially turning Ritou into a buffer zone for outlanders?
Your musings were interrupted by the sound of Thoma’s voice.
“Oh, hey there, buddy! Did you catch the smell of tasty food?”
You froze. Beside Thoma, with its tongue lolling out and bright eyes staring intently at the lunchbox, was a large orange and white dog. Probably one of the dozens of strays that roamed Ritou.
You slowly scooched to the side, trying to put more distance between yourself and the canine. The dog seemed to notice, for it turned its eyes to you. You held your breath, not daring to look away.
“Hitomi?” Thoma called. His eyes traveled from you to the dog and the confusion in them melted into something else. He put a hand over the dog’s chest, gently blocking its advance. “Are you afraid of dogs?”
“No,” you replied curtly, still refusing to tear your eyes from the dog, in case it attacked.
“You don’t seem very comfortable around them…”
“I don’t like dogs and they don’t like me. That’s it.”
Thoma looked like he was about to insist when the dog suddenly lurched forward, sniffing into your food. You wasted no time jumping to your feet and out of the dog’s reach, knocking your lunchbox and all its contents onto the ground in the process. The dog let out an excited bark and buried its mug into the food.
Your chest heaved as you took a couple of steps farther away from the dog. With a quick glance around, you noticed many people at the square were staring at you with curious wide eyes. It was only then that you realized you had screamed.
Before you could devise an explanation for your behavior, you felt a grip on your wrist. You jolted and almost let out a yelp but bit your lip in time. Thoma relaxed his hold but kept his hand on your wrist.
“Come on. Let’s go somewhere else.”
You were in no state to protest and thus simply followed Thoma up a path of nearby stairs. He found another bench and guided you to sit down beside him. He offered you his lunchbox and, when you did not take it, placed it on your lap.
“No, it’s your lunch.”
“I’ve already had a hearty breakfast, I’m fine. And if we get hungry afterwards, we can buy something nice at the market.” Thoma paused. He lowered his tone. “I’m sorry. I should have noticed sooner. I remember that you were uncomfortable around Taroumarou too. Are you okay?”
“I’m not-” You halted. What use was denying it at that point? “I’m fine. I’ve just had bad experiences with dogs, so I don’t like them.”
Bad experiences with dogs in Ritou. Bad experiences with dogs in Ritou stealing your food, to be even more precise. You still had a scar on your right biceps where a dog had sunk its teeth before running away with the sausage you had fought so hard to obtain.
“I see… I’m sorry about that. It’s hard to overcome these kinds of things, but, you know, dogs can be great friends too.”
“I’m not interested in being friends with something that attacks me just for a bit of food.”
“That certainly doesn’t sound very pleasant,” Thoma agreed with just the barest hint of a smile. He turned his head to gaze at the square, now a few meters down below them. A few more dogs had joined the feast that was supposed to have been your lunch. “These street dogs, they have been through a lot. They don’t have anyone to care for them and sometimes people around here mistreat them. So they act aggressively because they are afraid. But if you show them a little bit of kindness, they start to open up.”
“Yeah, right,” you mumbled, unconvinced. Thoma did not reply, but instead turned to stare at you. His brow was slightly creased, just enough to show that the wheels of his brain were in motion.
A light lit up in your mind.
“For Archons’ sake, stop giving me that look.”
“W-what?” Thoma stuttered, taken aback by the sudden hostility. You rolled your eyes.
“You were comparing me to a dog in your head just now.”
“No, I wasn’t!” But the way he sheepishly avoided your gaze told you everything.
“I can read it in your face.”
“Well, erm- If I had been, which is not to say I was, it wouldn’t have been a bad thing! I mean, I was just telling you how great dogs are.”
Before you could retort, another voice interrupted you.
“Thoma? My, it’s been a while! How have you been?”
A man with straw-blond hair dressed in the typical Fontainian fashion, with a black hat and a black vest over a burgundy-colored shirt, approached you.
“Hi, Kurisu! I’ve been fine, thank you for asking. What about you? How is business?”
The man, Kurisu, gave a tight smile. “As good as can be, I should say. We have been having some issues with deliveries due to a new band of vagrants that has been acting up in the Byakko Plain. The Shugosha, they call themselves. They seem to have a preference for targeting outlanders, to our misfortune.”
Thoma frowned. “Have you warned the Tenryou Commission about this?”
“Yes, but so far they haven’t been able to apprehend them. I guess that stellar detective of theirs isn’t on this case, huh…”
You listened to the conversation, trying to pinpoint from where you knew the man. Suddenly, it hit you. Kurisu – or better yet, Christopher was the one whose name Thoma had invoked to trick you during your job interview.
And Thoma clearly remembered that as well, considering the width of the grin that popped up on his face.
“By the way, Kurisu, this is Hitomi. She grew up in Fontaine and she has been working at the Kamisato Estate with me. I don’t suppose you know each other?”
“I don’t think we do! Pleased to make your acquaintance, Hitomi.”
“Likewise, Kurisu.” As you stepped forward to shake his hand, you made sure that a part of your foot stepped on Thoma’s. A small act of retribution, after all, he was enjoying himself way too much. He winced slightly but said nothing.
“Well, I have to get back to the International Trade Association, but it was nice catching up. I hope to see you soon, Thoma!”
As Kurisu walked away, Thoma turned to you in a low voice. “Well, now you can say you know him.”
“Are you ever going to let me live that down?”
“Probably someday. Not today, though. Now finish up your lunch, it’s almost time for us to meet the transporter.”
You insisted that you and Thoma share the lunchbox. The last thing you wanted was to owe any sort of debt to a fixer, let alone that fixer. As soon as you were done, you headed down to the harbor. Thoma immediately located the one you were supposed to meet.
“Hello, Muzhen! How is it going?”
A woman with long black hair tied into a braid waved back.
“The captain didn’t come this time?” Thoma asked, looking around as you approached.
“She had some business to deal with back in Liyue, so she only sent a few of us this time. The others should be somewhere in town trying to find sake.”
You eyed the crates next to them and immediately recognized a few.
“You also have a deal with Yoimiya to sell her fireworks overseas?”
“Yes. They are very popular in Liyue, especially for the Lantern Rite,” Thoma explained.
That was new information. You did not recall Yoimiya mentioning that before.
“Anyway, I’ll check them quickly. Hitomi, hold this for me?”
He handed you a few pieces of paper, which you gave a quick read-over. It was a detailed invoice of the transaction between the Yashiro Commission and a buyer in Liuye. Unlike in Fontaine, where invoices for international transactions were written in the common tongue, this one was entirely in Inazuman. Typical; they never sought to make it easier for anyone.
All of the goods being sold were listed there: fireworks, lanterns, a plethora of food and drinks. Nothing out of the ordinary. You continued to scan the document until you spotted the name of the buyer: 真木 (まき). Maki.
You frowned. That was not a Liyuean name. So the buyer in Liyue was either Inazuman or, like you, of Inazuman ascent. That did not mean much, but, as you were looking for any traces of collusion between the Yashiro Commission and Watatsumi, any little coincidence could be a lead. You tucked the information at the back of your mind and pretended not to have given the papers any relevance when Thoma finished his inspection of the crates.
Muzhen then handed him some other papers, probably the invoices from previous transactions in Liyue, as requested per Inazuman tax regulations. Thoma read them attentively before nodding.
“All in order. Now please sign here, Muzhen…” The woman took a pencil and swiftly scribbled the characters for her name. “Great. All done! Do you need help loading the crates onto the ship?”
“Nah, don’t worry about it. The guys should be heading back soon anyway. Thanks, Thoma!”
“Well, our main order of business for today is taken care of,” he said, turning to you.
You hoped that meant you would immediately return to the estate.
“Now, there are some new shops in town that we should get a look at, see if the merchants are settling in well or need any help.”
Of course, luck was never on your side.
“Come on, this way.”
He led you through some streets to the left side of the harbor, walking ahead but never too far to lose you in the crowd that never seemed to leave Ritou. You followed him automatically, paying little attention to your surroundings.
Someone bumped into your shoulder, causing you to hiss and glare, but the person had already moved on. The moment of pause led you to glance down for a brief second. You immediately spotted a drawing on the ground. It was a bit faded, clearly something painted and repainted many times over the years. A crab and a lobster shaking hands.
Your eyes shot up and you saw the merchant stand in front of the drawing. Ayame’s Seafood Sensational’s.
“We don’t need any fish from you.”
She remembered that. Oton had fallen over that drawing. You had started crying.
“It’s not worth it, Hikaru. Let’s just go.”
But if that was there…
“We can’t let them treat-”
Your legs trembled as you continued to follow Thoma down the street.
“Let’s. Go.”
Someone had grabbed Papa’s arm.
“Quiet. Make her shut up.”
A knife pointed at Oton’s ribs.
“[Y/N]-chan, it’s okay.”
Just up ahead…
“I swear, we don’t have any Mora. We struggle to get by just as you do.”
You were back.
It was a narrow alley, between a teahouse and a spice shop. The spice shop had already been closed at that hour. The teashop had probably been noisy with clients. That was why no one had heard.
Or no one had cared.
“Shit, shit, what did you do?”
“I thought he was going to pull out a knife!”
There had been so much blood. Where had it all gone?
“Hitomi?”
You almost lost your balance, forcefully yanked back to reality at the sound of Thoma’s voice. The alley still stood before you, empty save for a few wooden boxes piled up in a corner.
“Are you okay? You look pale.”
“Yeah,” you croaked. Then you repeated more strongly, “yeah. It’s just… so clean here.”
Thoma quirked an eyebrow. “I guess? Are you sure you don’t want to sit down?”
You shook your head and gathered whatever strength you had left to walk away. Your gait was stiff, but at least you did not stumble.
“Well, hello, there! Interested in some jewelry? I have this bracelet that would look amazing on you!”
You barely registered those words had been directed at you. In fact, you only noticed when Thoma put a hand on your shoulder and turned to address the merchant.
“I think we’re fine, thank you.”
The merchant, a dark-haired youth with a bowl cut and brown eyes, was not ready to give up.
“Come on, you don’t want to miss this opportunity! All of our goods are made from legit Liyuean noctilucous jade! Not very easy to find, if I may say so.”
You lifted your eyes to look at the man, trying to focus on anything that was not the alley a few meters behind you. He looked eerily familiar and, even through the haziness of your mind, it did not take you long to figure out why.
“Saimon.”
“Uh?” The man blinked in surprise. “Yes, that’s me, Saimon Jirou. Do we know each other?”
You shook your head. Fortunately, Thoma answered in your stead.
“Oh, yes! Hitomi rented a room with your parents back in Konda Village for a while. They are very kind people.”
“I see! Glad to hear that the old man hasn’t been too lonely without me around. I really should pay them a visit soon.”
“So you have been living in Ritou now?”
“Yes. I met this guy from Liyue and he had a lot of ideas on how to market noctilucous jade here, but he didn’t know the local market, you see? So I stepped in and we started to…”
You tried to focus on the conversation, you really did. But within a few seconds, his words became little more than buzzing in your mind.
No matter how hard you shut your eyes, you could see them. They were blurry, but that made it worse. You could not remember if Oton’s mole was on his left or right cheek. If Papa had dimples. What they looked like when they smiled. You only saw contorted mouths. Glassy eyes. It was all wrong. That was not supposed to be how you remembered them.
Thoma was still enthralled in his conversation with Jirou, listening and nodding attentively. Without a sound, you stepped away from them.
You did not know what you expected to gain from seeing the alley again. If you thought that would be a way of facing your fears and overcome them. Or if you just wanted to lay there and beg for your dads to come back. Or to take you.
You stepped in. It was the same as before. Gray cobblestones. No blood. No sign that anything out of the ordinary had ever happened there.
It was wrong. How dare the Land of Eternity wipe away the signs of your fathers’ presence as though they had not been its children?
You could feel the tips of your fingers getting colder, as though a chilly wind current had just blown. It did not take long until blotched spots started to appear around your vision and you dropped to your knees, fearing you might trip.
From that angle, it looked even more familiar. Silhouettes arguing around you. A flash of silver. And red. So much red.
You tried to anchor yourself to reality, to dig your nails into the dirt and remember where you were. But you were trembling too much, there was so much blood, so much, you could not even see where the cracks between the cobblestones were the air smelled so tangy why was it so cold why could you hear their screams but not remember their voices whydidtheyleaveyoulikethis whydidtheytakeyouthere whywhywhy-
The ground was not red anymore, but a very light shade of yellow. You felt the liquid dripping down your lips and chin but could not find the control over your muscles to wipe it off. Even when the pungent smell started to make your stomach churn again, you could not move.
Just as you were about to double over once more, you felt a gentle touch on your back and a hand pushing the strands of hair away from your face. You did not look to see who it was. His voice reached you clearly throughout the muddy puddle that your mind had turned into.
“Don’t hold it in, it’ll just be worse. Let everything out.”
And so you did, puking until your throat started to ache while Thoma held your hair back. When it seemed that there was nothing more inside of you to come out, Thoma moved his hands to your shoulders, giving you the support your arms could no longer bear to.
“Just focus on my voice, Hitomi. Let’s do it together. Breathe in. Now hold one… two… three… breathe out. In… one… two… three… Now out…”
Had your mind been functional, you might have simply flicked Thoma’s nose for talking to you like that, as if you were a scared child. But you felt very much like one at that moment. And so you obeyed Thoma’s commands with mechanic precision.
When your breathing had evened out and your trembling stopped, you felt Thoma gingerly nudging your shoulders back. “I’m going to move you just over there, okay?”
By then, you had already regained some semblance of clarity and shook your head. You shook your shoulders to displace Thoma’s hands, which he reluctantly removed, but kept close in case you needed support. You sat down and dragged yourself in the most dignified way possible towards the opposite wall of the alley, to where the blond had gestured. You leaned your back against the wall and closed your eyes for a moment. It was not long until he sat beside you.
The pair stood in silence. You were still trying to regain control over your limbs and, at the same time, figure out how you were supposed to face Thoma now. Aside from the general embarrassment of having another person watch you puke your guts out, there was the issue that Thoma would certainly want to know what was wrong with you. He was responsible for overseeing the other retainers and assess whether they were fully capable of performing their functions. Such a display in the middle of the street was dangerous – it could be seen as harmful to the reputation of the Kamisato Clan or even to your reliability. He could not let that episode slide. You had to ensure him that would never happen again.
But what were you supposed to tell him? This is the spot where my dads were murdered, but don’t worry – as long as I don’t trigger any other painful memories, it should be fine? That seemed unwise.
Your thoughts were interrupted when Thoma suddenly started. He turned to you and asked, “Can you wait here for just a second?”
At your nod, the man jumped to his feet and turned right outside the alley. He came back but two minutes later with a bottle of water and napkins. He offered them to you, who wordlessly accepted and started to clean your face. Thoma sat down again. Your feet were almost touching.
“How are you feeling?” he asked in a voice much softer than his usual tone.
You could feel that your stomach was still queasy, but you doubted there was anything left to come out. The cobblestones around you were gray again. “It’s fine. Must have been something I ate.”
Thoma hummed noncommittally, not taking his eyes off you. None of you commented on the fact that you had only eaten his cooking that day, and Thoma’s dishes were nothing short of exceptional.
You figured that you should say something, dismiss any concerns and prove that you were already back on business. But you could not think of what. Before anything came to mind, Thoma spoke up.
“Have I ever told you about my first solo assignment for the Kamisatos in Ritou?”
You frowned. What did that have to do with anything?
Taking your silence as a no, he continued.
“I must have been… what, fourteen? No, fifteen. That was the year milord gave me a drink with Snezhnayan fire-water, lavender melon, and naku weed for my birthday. I wouldn’t recommend it, by the way. I thought I would never recover my peripheral vision.” He giggled awkwardly at your horrified stare. “Anyway, I had come to Ritou to negotiate a discount with a Liyuean merchant regarding some gems that the late Lord Kamisato wanted to use for decoration for the Summer Festival. It was tough, but in the end she saw the considerable amount that the Yashiro Commission wanted to buy and accepted. She was very pleased with the deal and ended up treating me to some Black-Back Perch Stew. She kept complimenting the Jueyun Chilis, saying that they were the greatest symbol of Liyuean cuisine. I had never tried anything from Liyue, so I thought: ‘if the chilis are that good, the more the merrier, right?’”
Your jaw went slack. “You didn’t.”
“Yep. That I did.” Thoma laughed, closing his eyes as he recalled the memory. “I put ten Jueyun Chilis in my stew. No one warned me about it. Guess they thought I was really used to spicy food? It was very tasty, actually. And I was fine at first. But then when I left the merchant… oh boy, that was when my stomach started to act up. I could barely walk. And then one of the Kanjou Commission samurai came over to see what was happening and… well. You can guess.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“By the Seven, Thoma-” The scene painted itself vividly in your head: a young retainer profusely apologizing while clutching his stomach in agony, a thoroughly disgusted samurai yelling at him, covered in filth, the entire central square of Ritou watching. You put a hand to your forehead and snorted. “I can’t believe- what did you do then?”
“Besides bowing my head to the ground and begging for forgiveness? I had to wait in Ritou until the late Lord Kamisato came to assuage the situation. Almost caused a political crisis.” Thoma’s smirk told you that the ending was an exaggeration. Still, you could not help chuckling at the thought.
The way Thoma had shared the story of one of his failures so carelessly struck you. Was he not afraid that you might use that against him somehow? Mock him? Instead, there was something strangely tranquilizing about sharing a laugh about an old faux pas.
Your lips curved into an amused smile as you remembered the night when you and Sylvain had gotten your first hangover by the Pont du Mollard in the Court of Fontaine. You almost mentioned it. You remembered yourself just in time.
“How is your stomach?”
The question caught you off guard. For the briefest of moments, you had forgotten why you were sitting on that empty alley. To your greater surprise, the queasiness in your stomach had diminished and was now almost imperceptible. You lowered your gaze.
“Better.”
“That’s good,” Thoma said with a soft smile. “Keep drinking the water. It will help you stay hydrated. We don’t have to return to the Kamisato Estate today. I will send a message to let them know and we can rent a room in an inn around here.”
You stiffened. “No. I can travel.”
“It’s better not to push yourself-”
“I can do my job.”
Thoma quieted. He stared at you for a moment, something that you could not pinpoint flashing across his eyes.
“Do you think that getting back to the estate one day later would put your job at risk?”
You did not answer. He let out a small sigh.
“Hitomi, I know you can do your job. You’ve been doing everything I ask of you and more for two months. Taking care of yourself is not being weak. It’s a priority.”
Before you could say anything – not that you knew exactly what to say to that –, Thoma smiled.
“Besides, I actually happened to twist my ankle earlier when we were leaving the harbor. I didn’t say anything but oh boy, I really need to take it easy for the rest of the day!”
He then proceeded to rub his ankle and wince. You still could not believe that Thoma had played you so well that day at Komore Teahouse, seeing how abysmal his acting skills were. He succeeded, however, in getting you to accept his proposition.
Thoma got to his feet, careful not to put much weight on the allegedly twisted ankle, and extended his hand towards you. You took it.
“Ah, Thoma! I’ve barely seen you around lately,” a smiling old man greeted from behind the counter.
After getting some food and quickly stopping by a few more shops, you had walked across the town to a two-story inn closer to the exit point to Narukami. The sun had just set and Thoma had sent a bird to the Kamisato Estate explaining the recent developments. The plan was to leave first thing in the morning.
“Haven’t been able to stop at one place for long, I’m afraid.” Thoma scratched the back of his head with an apologetic smile. “How are Toshio and Haruka? Mr. Tomura’s grandkids,” he added to you.
“Getting bigger and bigger every day! They still love the stuffed puppies you made for their birthday. We will never be able to thank you enough for that, Thoma.”
That information surprised you. Had he given those gifts in exchange for a favor from the innkeeper? From the genuine way Mr. Tomura was smiling, it certainly did not seem so. Nor from the way Thoma was blushing and avoiding his gaze.
“Don’t say that, it was my pleasure! I only hope they grow up to like real puppies too!” You coughed, trying to discreetly remind the chief retainer of why you were there. “Oh, right. We would like two rooms for the night, please.”
“Absolutely! Let me just check what we have available here…” Mr. Tomura opened a notebook and started trailing down a list with his finger. He frowned. “Oh dear… We have been so busy lately. It seems we only have one room left.”
The air in the inn seemed to go completely still. For three, long seconds you just stared ahead, the innkeeper’s words registering in your brains. Then you slammed your hands on the counter.
“What?”
Mr. Tomura nodded solemnly, unfazed by your outburst.
“Yes. And with only one bed.”
A new wave of silence hung between you. Thoma stared at Mr. Tomura with eyes wide and mouth agape. One could practically hear the gears turning in his head trying to think of a solution. You only glared at the man, having already made up your mind. One of the guests was going to have a serious accident and a room would be vacated. Simple. Sad, but there was no other option. You did not make the rules.
You were about to turn around and do what must be done when Mr. Tomura suddenly burst into laughter.
“Almighty Shogun, you should have seen your faces! Hahahaha! Of course we have two rooms available! Two suites! Here, take your keys. Though, if you do want only one-”
“No, thank you,” you replied curtly, snatching the keys from the man’s hand.
Mr. Tomura was still laughing as you climbed up the stairs to the bedrooms. Thoma himself let out a small chuckle, though he promptly stopped at the sight of your glare.
Your rooms were across from one another. You hastily unlocked the door to yours, anxious to take a bath, sleep, and put that day behind you. You would have slipped into the room without another word had you not felt Thoma’s eyes trying to cave a hole on the back of your neck. You sighed.
“Thank you. For helping me out today.”
“I didn’t do much,” he said with a shake of his head. “But if you need anything, or if you want to talk, just knock on my door.”
Talking was very much the last thing you wanted.
“Yeah, sure. Good night.” You closed the door before Thoma could add anything else.
Later that night, in bed and alone, you allowed your mind to wander more freely, though you already knew where it would take you. Now that you were away from the alley, the memories were less paralyzing. But not less painful.
You sighed. Wrong place at the wrong time – the story of your life. Two amateur muggers who had panicked too soon. Papa had screamed, so they panicked again. You hadn’t. All sounds had gotten stuck in your throat as you watched a red pool form around your fathers’ bodies. That was the only reason you had been spared. You had been quiet as they ran away.
You needed to find a way to control those outbursts. Thoma had not questioned you, but the day’s events had certainly made him more suspicious. And knowing that the Kamisatos had business in Ritou, it was not unlikely that you would have to come to the city again. If something like that happened again, it could spell your end. You could not even begin to think how you would have reacted had you spotted Aunt Izumi. With your luck, you knew the old hag would still be alive.
You grabbed a pillow and pressed it against your face. You had told Baptiste sending you was a mistake. You had told him everything. You had sworn never to come back.
“Ma puce, after your last job, do you really think this is a request?”
Fuck him. Fuck Sylvain. Fuck Karina. Fuck Inazuma.
When you finally cast the pillow aside, its case was wet. You fell asleep soon afterwards.
Somehow, you got up the next morning more tired than when you had gone to sleep. You had not had any nightmares, at least none that you could remember, but your mind seemed heavier than ever. The only thing that gave you energy was knowing that you would be out of Ritou soon.
You went downstairs to the inn’s kitchen, unsurprised to find Thoma already up and finishing wiping up breakfast.
What did surprise you was the strong smoky smell that permeated the room. A smell that you had been craving for months.
“Coffee?”
As if on cue, Thoma grinned and slid you a mug across the table. You stared at your reflection on the dark liquid and almost wanted to cry.
“There was a shop right next to Saimon Jirou’s selling blends from Sumeru. I wasn’t sure which one you liked best, but, considering how you like your tea, I picked one of the strongest.”
That was exactly how you liked your coffee. For once, you were glad for Thoma’s observational skills.
“You have good taste, Miss,” Mr. Tomura, who only now you realized was at the corner of the kitchen with a coffee mug of his own, said. “This drink is a blessing of the Archons themselves.”
“It truly is,” you agreed, taking a greedy gulp off the mug. The warm liquid’s passage through your throat already felt rejuvenating.
“Is it good then?” Thoma asked earnestly.
“Perfect.” You would not hold out on compliments about something you had missed that much.
“Good to hear! I bought a few more packages so we can make it back at the estate.”
You coughed, almost choking on the coffee. You stared at Thoma with wide eyes.
“Why?”
The housekeeper’s grin widened.
“Just a little bit of kindness.”
The following day, Ayaka sought you out.
“Hitomi, do you have a minute?”
You had been dreading that moment ever since you had returned to the estate. Ayaka would certainly inquire you about what had happened in Ritou. You had spent the entire journey back formulating a convincing excuse, ready to put your best acting to test. The time was now.
“Did you have time to make the list with the Fontainian musicians I asked?”
You opened your mouth to speak but halted before any sound could come out. That was not been the question you had been expecting. Wordlessly, you pulled the list out of your pocket and handed it to Ayaka.
“Excellent. Thank you, Hitomi. Thoma also told me about the Sumerian coffee blends that you bought. I might wish to give them a try later, if you don’t mind.”
“Not at all, milady,” you said slowly, mind still reeling. “Did Thoma tell you why we spent the night in Ritou?”
A light crease came to Ayaka’s brows. “He said you had gotten extra busy with the merchants. Did something more serious happen?”
Your heart skipped a beat. He had not told her. You did not know why, what kind of game he was playing at, but he had not told her about the alley.
“Not at all, milady. He just wrote the note so fast that I was confused.”
Ayaka smiled. “I’m glad then. I need to sort out some documents now. If you need me, I will be at my study.”
You bowed and quickly excused yourself. Only to be cornered by a nervous Furuta.
“Hitomi, there you are! You won’t escape me this time. Come to the garden at once.”
You winced. “I would love to, Furuta, but I need to sweep-”
“No buts! I swear, you are worse than Koharu sometimes.”
“Furu-”
You halted when you caught the old woman’s glare. You bit back a sigh. Fine. If you had to plant more flowers, so be it. You could not afford to make an enemy out of Furuta either.
Furuta marched into the garden as quickly as her legs could carry her and, as you had predicted, stopped by the flower beds. That was when you noticed the change.
Last time you had seen them, the seedlings were shily sprouting, little specks of green amidst the dark brown earth. An unordinary and uninteresting sight, you had thought. Now they had been replaced by a field of white blossoms whose delicate petals opened up in a perfect circle. Glistening under the sun, they almost looked like tiny mounds of snow. Only their beauty was much greater. They were alive, after all.
“You did this, Hitomi. Congratulations.”
You had done this. You had helped cultivate life.
The camellias bloomed. And right then, unbeknownst to you, something inside you started to as well.