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Chapter Text

Kamisato Ayato does not drink.

Tonight, however, as he nearly trips over his own pristine white sleeves in running up the stairs of the Grand Narukami Shrine, he looks every bit like any other drunken commoner on Inazuma's streets.

Thankfully, at the recognition of his pale blue head of hair—though it, too, is frizzy and unkempt—the shrine maidens give him a wide berth. This is what allows him to make a mad dash into the shrine's inner sanctum, where only one being would still stand this late at night.

"Yae."

She does not move to accommodate him at all. "Ah, the Yashiro Commissioner. You rarely visit this late in the evening. What do you need?"

"He—I—"

She doesn't need to turn around to know that his chest is heaving, sweat dripping down his brow. "Now, now," she says coolly, oozing fake concern. "You look like a fool. Collect yourself. I will not run… unlike a certain someone."

I feel like one. "The servants told me you would have seen him last. Where is my—where is Thoma?"

She huffs, soft yet clearly irritated, under her breath. "So now you wish to know." 

"And just what is that supposed to mean?"

Quick as lightning, her hand claps onto his shoulder with considerable force, sharp nails digging in. Only then does he realize that the volume of his voice has been rising, to the point where he's yelled at her.

"We are currently on holy ground." She leans in. "And you do not speak to me in that tone. So I am warning you only once more. Collect yourself."

He breathes in deeply, once, twice. Wipes the sweat from his brow with a neatly folded handkerchief (that, he idly notes, he had Thoma wash last). Swats her hand from his shoulder, and clears his throat in an attempt to gain back some semblance of control over his surging emotions. "He hasn't returned to the estate in days now. The servants, they miss him."

"Sure." She shrugs. "Deflect, as you always do."

"What—that doesn't matter. Has he said anything to you? Do you remember anything at all?"

"Hm, he said a lot. Drunk words are sober thoughts, is the adage. Though, I seem to recall him sitting underneath that exact tree, intoxicated and wistful like the unlucky protagonist of a tragic romance."

His gaze follows her pointing finger, to—oh. 

That tree. The one that Thoma would regularly drag him to, in an effort to get him to relax after busy days. The one that they would run to take shelter under, when rain came pouring down unexpectedly during candid afternoons. The very same branches and blossoms that witnessed him swallow his fears and open his heart to Thoma—his childhood, his anxieties, his passions, everything.  

Yae chuckles bitterly at his lingering gaze. "Oh, who would have thought? The Yashiro Commissioner himself, visiting the past after his happy marriage to another noble clan."

"Do not call this happy." There is a flash of fury on his face. "Successful, perhaps. But never happy."

"Shame." She takes a step forward; now, they are side to side, so he can better hear her amidst the strong wind. "It was quite a heart-wrenching thing to witness, even for me. Imagine it: poor Thoma sobbing so much it pained him to take a breath, when he visited the shrine for what I could sense would be the last time."

"The last—" 

And immediately, the worst comes to mind. 

She tuts, shaking her head. "No, it isn't how you're envisioning. And he went to other places as well."

That works to snap him out of it, but just barely. "Where… where else did he go?"

"Well, I thought then that he required my assistance. That he'd finally whisked up the courage to fight—"

"Don't you dare imply what I think you're about to. Thoma is the bravest soul I know."

"So I invited him to the Komore Teahouse. To my shock, he refused, choosing instead to stay last at the Uyuu Restaurant." Noncommittally, she hums. "I cannot say the choice of drink between the two is majorly different. However… he said the teahouse now holds many painful memories for him."

Ayato mutters a soft fuck, running a gloved hand down his face and trying to keep the dam from spilling. "More. What else did you two discuss, Yae?"

Her head tilts, one ear twitching; it's a gesture that carries only a smidge of confusion, but her eyes contain an entire bucketload of the humiliating brand of pity one can have for someone who dug their own grave. Testing the waters, she says, "I am not sure if I am allowed to disclose any of this information to you."

He groans. It sounds like raw, liquid defeat. "Please."

Though he cannot see it with his current posture, her eyes flash pink for just a moment. "The last thing he told me was to inform you that he is returning to his homeland. He left a letter explaining it all at the teahouse, by Taroumaru's side."

At the promise of a farewell, he immediately stands up straight, striding away. "I need that letter."

"Ah-ah, not so fast."

She grabs him by the hem of his sleeve; he jerks back, looking at her with indignation, only to be met with a gaze all too knowing of his struggle. 

"You will head to the teahouse at once," she starts, "you will no doubt read that letter word for word, and your heart will cry out for you to chase him. Follow him to the city of winds and freedom. Go where he goes, even if it be to the ends of the earth."

There's no response; nothing he can say can change the fact that she is right.

"But in doing so, you will abandon your duty. Hunting him down means leaving the estate; assigning the work to others, to Ayaka—perhaps to your newly wedded spouse, although I doubt she has a complete grasp yet of what it is that you do. After all, it has only been… how long? Two months, since you met?"

"Nearly two months." It comes out in a shaky breath, as she drops his sleeve. "You'd be correct."

"Mm. And how long have you known Thoma?"

The words force themselves out of his throat, and they taste awful, choking him like someone tipped his head back and forced him to drink from an entire bottle of sake. "For as long as I can remember."

"Do you see now?" Her voice almost echoes around the shrine, every word ricocheting in his skull and sending daggers into his heart. "He cared for you and your sister for all of his life in this nation. You claim to care for him in return. And yet you rushed into a marriage of convenience. The sorrow, the guilt, the love… are they not eating you alive?"

Silence hangs in the air, cold and piercing.

Ayato briefly thinks that this same silence, with Thoma by his side, would be warm and comforting.

One glance at the full moon glistening in the sky, and Yae sighs, idly flicking a petal off the front of her clothes. "My, look at the time. I must go now; we have a new story to write at the Yae Publishing House."

"What is this one about?" he says, in a terrible attempt to lighten the mood.

"You'll find it's a very current story," she answers, back to her usual coy self. "A wealthy, distinguished gentleman, torn between two worlds. One will secure a stable present. The other will guarantee a good future. He must make his choice, and fast; otherwise, he risks losing everything." With a pleased hum, she adds, "It's sure to rip into the hearts of our readers."

There is a weight in his chest as the gravity of his situation fully sinks in. For a moment, he finds himself unable to move, even as she says her last.

"Choose wisely, Commissioner. One or the other. You cannot have both."

Though he does not hastily run to the Komore Teahouse—partly because he would slip on the way, and partly because his heart feels like a machine running on fumes—Ayato still strides with an urgency that demands that people clear the way. A few who were present at the marriage call out their congratulations and good wishes. He pretends not to hear; if any of them could read his mind, they would know he did not desire both the dilemma he currently faced, nor the woman to whom he was just sworn.

Almost flinging the door of the teahouse off its hinges, he barely remembers to not slam it behind him before he spots his target. Taroumaru sleeps contently on the side of the counter, a bowl of food half-empty beside him. Pinned underneath the sleeping dog's paw is an envelope.  Whispering an apology, Ayato gently lifts his paw up to retrieve it. Then, with all the grace of someone who has never done this by himself before, he uncorks a new bottle from behind the counter and pours a third of it into a tall glass.

Then he takes a seat—although it's more like his legs finally give up on him, and there just happens to be a seat nearby.

That's how Milord is, he remembers Thoma saying. Even if he should fall, he falls with grace.  And when he picks himself up, with us by his side, he is always ready to make things right. 

He takes a long sip, pausing to observe the envelope; while it kills him to find out what its contents are, it's a diplomatic instinct he never successfully unlearned. While this is the standard brand of stationery the Yashiro Commission uses, it's clumsily folded at the edges, improperly sealed… and spotted with dark droplets of water that could have only been tears. 

His breath is shaky as he undoes his gloves, opening the envelope with reverence. One hand holds onto it, while the other unfolds the letter itself.

Oh, and isn't he pathetic , if the sight of Thoma's bouncy handwriting alone is enough to make him crack like a shattered sword?

Good day, Milord!

Congratulations on your marriage. I am filled with joy to see you already preparing to start your own family.

When he reads the crossed out 'Or so I thought' under that paragraph, it's as if a pair of invisible hands reached into his ribcage and wrung his heart like a sopping wet towel. He downs some more of his glass, and pushes on.

Anyway, I am writing this letter as a sign of my resignation as the housekeeper of the Kamisato Clan.

He nearly drops his glass. Even if he had, it still would have been less broken than him.

I have already told Milady about this.

What? He sets down the glass, sitting up straight. Ayaka knew about this? And she said nothing to him?

She looked very shocked at the announcement. She started crying, and for the first time, Milady embraced me. She told me she never wanted to lose another family again.

There are many long blocked-out sentences after that one; the lines drawn over them are too dark, covering most of the letters, and Ayato can't make heads or tails of what he was writing before he decided against including them.

…In fact, now that he sees it in a better light, the entire letter is written in a much bolder font. He must have been pressing down with his quill. 

They'd spent months together when they were younger,  practicing his penmanship, breaking quills and spilling ink so that he could write letters in Ayato's stead. This was the first mistake they'd corrected. Had his influence faded so fast, so much?

I mean, I do understand her point.

But there are just times when I have to let go of everything. Even you, Milord.

His name is scribbled out to the left of the cold, impersonal title—violently so, enough that there is a tear through the paper from where the ink bled out.

That alone is enough to make the first hot tears of the night spill from his eyes, dripping down his cheeks and onto the table beneath him. Angrily, he groans and rubs them away. His glass is far too empty, far too soon, and he refills it yet again. 

I have already cleaned your quarters, as well as Milady's, and the whole house. I finished all my work for the day; I did it well, even though this is the last time. I even visited Taroumaru and gave him his last supper from me.

And I hope I made you say that you're proud of me.

"I was always proud of you, my love," he hears himself mutter.

And he doesn't even recognize himself at this rate; not only has he never actually called Thoma that before, his voice is wrought with grief from holding back the waterworks. Absolutely wrecked. Like a sinking ship, or wine as it spoils, or loyalty fading from spring green eyes.

If you're asking why I am resigning, well…

A lot of things happened. Even if I try to explain it to you, I still would not be able to articulate these emotions swelling inside me. So I decided to write. I should be able to convey my thoughts well enough. 

If Thoma were here, he would most likely chuckle. Ayato would sell every single thing he owned, if the Mora he earned would be enough to buy that laugh and keep it forever.

Also, I am very sorry for such a messy letter. Ironic how I have a lot of erasures, despite this being handwritten.

I feel like I had to return to Mondstadt. It's been too long since I've felt the city's winds on my face. Do not worry; I simply felt nostalgic. So I am returning. That's all. Nothing personal, or anything!

Besides... If ever I return, I would probably like to apply as the Kamisato Clan's housekeeper again.

It's as if the skies opened on his heart, the sun's rays shining down on him, warming him for the briefest of moments. It's a flicker, just a spark—but there's hope.

Once again, congratulations on your wedding. I wish you good luck with all your future endeavors. I'll just leave this letter with Taroumaru; please be sure to give him many, many pets and hugs for me.

This is Housekeeper Thoma, resigning.

For a moment, he's confused. Yae said this would answer him, and yet this only added more questions. Was that really all he wanted to say? Or, in his own quiet moments of fragile sadness, was that all he could say without breaking down?

He reads it again. Then thrice more. Steadily, he's opened more bottles, until there are now four empty ones beside his glass—more than he'd ever drink in his life, consumed in one night. At some point, he'd put the letter down entirely and just… sat there, absorbing it all. Reeling with every word, heart pounding like a drum, ready to beat out of his chest.

Now, slumped over the desk, he clutches his hair, hiccuping between mad sobs into the crook of his arm. He gasps for air, but it leads him right back into the crying fit. Vision blurry and entire body shaking, he is a fragile leaf ripped in half and blown away in the gales of a merciless storm.

Fuck, is this it?

Is this how it ends?

…He'll give Thoma some space. That's what a good master should do, right? Let him process everything for a bit, and perhaps get a grip on his own feelings. Eventually he'll return, and balance will be restored.

Or at least, he hopes.

Chapter Text

“I shall see you later, dear sister-in-law!”

“Take care,” Ayaka says, waving as her brother’s spouse leaves.

The second she’s out of earshot, Ayaka lets out a grateful sigh. While the Kamisatos have and had always maintained a professionally decent relationship with the other clan… well, how should she put this? That woman had a talent—and it consisted of annoying the shit out of her at every turn. Every single day, clinging noisily to Ayato’s arm like a caterpillar to a branch. And when he wasn’t around, she became the target. 

“Does she not understand social decorum at all?” she mutters, pinching the bridge of her nose. It would be much more convenient to everyone involved if she kept at least a professional guise of respect for her husband and new family, instead of pretending to be this… obnoxious schoolgirl with a crush that just won’t quit.

“Ah, Thoma,” she sighs, entering his now-empty room. “How I miss you. Things would be much more bearable with you here to smooth things over.”

Though his personal touch to the room has all but faded, the furniture is still arranged in the way he placed it. It's a distinctly different layout from the other rooms of the house; things in the corners, or at least touching some wall, leaving a large space in the center for the carpet. Even that is a stand-out, the crimson cloth having been shipped from Mondstadt with a bit of finagling from Ayato.

She sighs, smoothing out her skirt as she takes a seat on the futon. "Right now, you'd be stretching, or perhaps reading a book on that very same carpet."

The warmth of the space, brought about by the Pyro he constantly emitted, has nearly faded away. There are only faint bits of warmth that linger on the floor.   Out of respect, she slips out of her shoes and places the soles of her feet flat on the carpet, hoping to enjoy it one last time.

He was their sun, almost. There was never a truly dull day in the estate, when his light shone upon them all. Her feet shift unconsciously, as her mind harkens back to better days—

…

Wait a minute.

She stands, taking another step—and there it is, the sound of something crumpling. Kneeling, she lifts up the corner of the carpet, and is greeted with the sight of a heap of paper.

Except, when she pulls the carpet away entirely, she finds dozens of folded sheets, tucked into the fabric and hidden in the crevices of the floorboards.

"What is all this?" she murmurs in shock, fishing several out of the pile all at once. 

Once they're unfolded, and read thoroughly, she's thankful that they aren't anything illegal in nature. But they break her heart all the same: these are love letters, clearly unfinished. The only thing connecting them all is the date scribbled at the top of each one. She's found a particularly old one, already yellowed; this one seems to be about four years old.

Ayaka is not one to give less than her full effort. That being said, the better part of an hour is spent arranging them all chronologically, until she's found the most recent one.

It's from… three days ago. The day of the marriage.

Pushing the rest of the letters to the side, she unfolds it delicately—it's taken a bit of water, and some of the ink has spread because of it, but the words are still semi-legible.

The moment I heard of your marriage, I was devastated. 

That's why I wasn't able to clean the whole house consistently for the past two months. If I ran into you into the halls, in your room—or, Archons forbid, with your wife—I don't think I would've been able to stand it.

And when you asked me about it, I brushed it off, telling you I just didn't feel well.

I still don't.

Now, just like her brother, Ayaka is an avid reader. So when her eyes skip right to the ending lines, she gasps, before forcing herself to backtrack.

I love you! I love you so much, Ayato!

I just couldn't tell you, but I love you!

Which is why I don't understand why we had to kiss at this very same teahouse, all those years ago, when you knew you were to be engaged to someone else!

Her eyes would have popped out of her head. One hand is over her mouth in shock as she continues.

I know you were sober. We both were.

Tell me, how could I stop caressing your lips, when you held my arms so tightly and yet so gently in front of the dinner table?

Before I knew it, I'd fallen like a sakura petal. It might just be the Mondstadtian in me, but that kiss has irreversibly charmed me, over and over again, when I replay it in the depths of my memory. 

I've known and cared for you for so long. I've already memorized every detail of you, Ayato! I know the tricks you play, the strategies you use, to score so flawlessly against your enemies. And I thought I understood.

But I never thought I would trip headfirst into one. 

Leaning against the futon, she crosses her legs, processing all that she'd so far seen. Thoma didn't specify much why he was leaving… but now that she's seen the situation from his perspective, she fully understands. What he doesn't want to talk about, needs not be discussed.

It's nearly over; she senses this letter taking a turn for the worse, and leans closer to better see the words where they turn shaky and smudged.

Something was wrong. And I wanted to ignore it for as long as I could, but it caught up to me, when you agreed to the marriage without considering my own feelings.

Were you only using me? Was I but a toy, to cope with having to accept your father's arrangements for you? To pretend, for one blissful moment, like you had a choice?

"He would never do that," she finds herself whispering into empty air. "He cares too much about you to even consider such a deed."

You could have fought! After all, you are the head of the family. I know damn well that you could have called it off whenever you wanted. You're the Yashiro Commissioner, for Archons' sake. You've handled bigger ceremonies than this wedding with greater ease.

Tell me, if you only agreed to preserve your family name, then why'd you let your lips touch mine?

"Why? Because he—"

And then it hits her in the face like a sack of bricks. "Oh Archons, Ayato didn't tell him beforehand!"

Am I a fool to rest my trust on you, Ayato? Am I a fool to serve you, Milord?

Do I really even know you?

…What a foolish question. I never did.

"But I do," she says, clutching the letter and striding out of the room. "And I'm going to fix this."

Her walk takes her all the way across the estate, past the last remaining servants who bow and then promptly make haste as they turn in for the night. Oh, and just her luck—he's home today. Which means that unfortunately they'd have to be in their room together, and that is less than ideal for the goal she wants to achieve.

She knocks on the door confidently, four times.

It's the wife that answers; just as Ayaka thought, she's shed the layers of the day and is in what could technically be the most modest form of lingerie. "Hello, dear! Your brother and I are retiring for the evening; our shopping trip is still on for Wednesday, right?"

"I need to see him."

She sputters, obviously not having expected the sternness in her tone. "Um, your brother is very tired from his work, and wants to be—"

"I know what he wants better than you," she snaps, watching the other woman flinch.

"Why—my lady, you seem rather stressed! Am I still talking to my sister-in-law?"

"You are not. Nor are you talking to Kamisato Ayaka. You are currently in the presence of the Shirasagi Himegimi, and I demand that you let me see the Yashiro Commissioner immediately."

"Ayaka…?"

That's Ayato, his deep voice carrying that same rasp of exhaustion that stems from month-long business trips. Ayaka shoots her the iciest glare she can muster (and, given that she's a Cryo user, it's a miracle the wife didn't freeze to the spot.)

"Go."

And she does, scurrying away, before Ayaka brushes past her and swiftly shuts the door.

Once inside, she softens up once more, coming over to sit on the futon next to Ayato. His hair is still damp from the bath, neatly combed to frame his face. The dark circles are becoming a bit too obvious; it brings back memories of Thoma making his favorite food and placing them in the bedroom strategically so he would grow sleepy.

"Do you miss Thoma too?"

The question does not catch her off-guard anymore; they are siblings. The mental link is real. Which is also why there's no point in lying. "I do." 

Then, with a bit of hesitation, "What are we going to do now?"

He shrugs, rolling over to better face her. "He'll come back."

"He will?"

A weary groan bubbles from his chest. He's not good at playing the game of 'don't tell little sister too much so as not to make her worry', but he tries. "He said in his letter that he's returning to Mondstadt for personal reasons. I don't want to be ungracious, so I've decided to give him that time to himself."

I could smack you, you're such an idiot.

"When he returns, we'll throw a party. Think of it as payback, for all the times he's insisted on a welcoming feast when I come home. And everything will be right once more."

I don't think he's going to come back unless you cross the ocean and drag him back yourself.

"...Ayaka? What is this in your hand?"

She shoves it in his general direction. "You've only seen one side of the story: the one that he crafted to seem professional and put-together.  Once you read this, you'll understand."

"Fallen like a sakura petal, blown away like a dandelion seed, and just as quick to wilt."

Thoma laughs, without any of the joy behind it. Below the ship he’s on, the sea roars, relentless waves crashing against the hull. They’re almost strong enough to drown out the deep sorrow and undying love burning in his blood. "You've got it there, Kazuha. But that doesn't exactly fit a haiku."

Humming thoughtfully, the samurai slides down from his lofty porch. The Alcor, after all, is a gigantic ship. It's the biggest one of the fleet, in fact; Thoma knows this now because all around him are the Crux fleet's sister ships, carrying loads of supplies. Celestia must have been smiling down on him, because right as he wanted to leave, the fleet was also about to set off on a return trip to Liyue.

"We're out of the storm, Captain!"

"Good job, men!" That's Beidou, maneuvering the ship to sail parallel with the other boats. "From here on out, it's smooth sailing. Everyone, at ease."

Kazuha nods, clearing a space for her as she comes down to sit between him and Thoma. "C'mon, man, drink! There's plenty of food and time before we hit the Liyuen shore."

"Ah—no thanks, Captain," Thoma says with a shake of his head. "I've had too much already. Heh, I… may still be a bit hungover, actually."

"Hey, I got'cha." She sits on the crate beside him, handing him a canteen. "Here. Water is your best friend, and keep your gaze out on the horizon. Don't want you throwing up all over the deck."

"Perhaps tell us more about what you look forward to upon stepping into Liyue," Kazuha provides.

"Hm, Liyue… I've always heard they've had some excellent food. The sights can't be too different from Inazuma, can they?"

Beidou and Kazuha share a quick, knowing glance at that. He no longer refers to Inazuma as home.

"Well, I don't know about Beidou, for she heads straight to the Jade Chamber upon our entry into the harbor—"

"Hey, that's a business thing!"

"Hehe, of course. But from a wanderer, I can tell you that Liyue has a much warmer atmosphere than Inazuma could ever hope to conjure. I especially recommend their food; it's heartier, and served in larger portions than the restaurants of Inazuma provide."

"Hm…"

He falls silent at that, and Beidou frowns. "Kazu!"

"What? It's food. That's a safe topic."

"Sorry, sorry," Thoma says, having snapped out of his daze. "My master, he, um… he used to feed me some of the strange things he'd come up with."

"Now that sounds like he was trying to poison you."

"Captain, you are talking to the man who invented the hot-pot roulette. If he can withstand his own game, I believe a few odd dishes won't turn him off."

That makes Thoma laugh, leaning back on the crates behind him. "Well, yeah. Maybe I'll be able to purchase some recipes; I'd like to try my hand at making dishes from other nations."

"Mondstadt was your destination, right?" Beidou crosses her arms in thought. "In that case, all the other ships have to dock at Liyue, and the Alcor alone will take you up there. It shouldn't be too long of a journey, if we sail along the shore and then up to Dornman Port."

"If we're taking that route... isn't Yaoguang Shoal overrun with hilichurls?"

"For real?" She shakes her head, taking another swig. "Wasn't that bad, the last time I was there."

"Hm. Then perhaps some things have changed, in your absence." There's that Kazuha-brand wisdom, seeping into everyday conversation as he cleans the blade of his sword. "That reminds me; Thoma, do you have any family you can trust upon your entry to Mondstadt?"

"My mother is from there," he replies. '"We write to each other often."

"I see. You'll stay for her sake."

"Hey, but y'know what?" Beidou asks, patting his shoulder. "The two of us, and everyone on ship? We're proud of you. And you're brave, like that. Knowing when the tide's too strong, when it's time to swim back to safety."

Kazuha nods. Then, his expression suddenly turns dark, his posture one of speculation. "Except…"

"What's wrong?" Thoma asks.

"Thoma." The samurai leans forward to face him, apple red boring into spring green. "What is your game plan, should the tide give chase?"

"Ain't no way," Beidou gasps, like someone getting their hands on the good gossip around town. "He wouldn't dare. He's got work to do at home! He can't just sail off, when all of Inazuma's eyes are on him."

Kazuha shrugs. "He could, and forgive me for such crude terms, grow a pair."

While Beidou cackles at that, Thoma trains his gaze out on the ocean, fiddling with the half-empty canteen. 

If Ayato comes for me…

No. Like Beidou said, he has too much on his plate at home already. And his wife would not be pleased. But if, and it's the smallest if, he goes out of his way to hunt him down… 

Would Ayato be cross with him? Or saddened at his sudden leave? And how should he even react? Is he allowed to be angry, to scream and cry? Or would he just freeze up, unable to say anything, like he was upon hearing about the marriage? Would they have to pretend that everything was fine, when in reality, things would never be the same between them?

"Thoma. Hey. Thoma!"

He's pulled from his thoughts, both Beidou and Kazuha pinning him with the matching mother-son gaze of concern. 

"So?" she asks. "What'll it be?"

His gaze wanders beyond them—over the sea, past the various ships in the way, to the faint overarching silhouette of Mt. Yougou as its violet glow breaks through the clouds. He would have once thought it comforting; now, however, he'll dread ever having to return to that place again. 

"Hmm, I'd like to answer with a haiku of my own," is what he says, a bit of cheer returning to his voice.

"Oh?" Kazuha passes him a quill and some paper. "Do tell."

He laughs, holding it up as he writes so they can see.

Never to return

Far from the raging tempest

The flame brightly burns

Beidou nods, impressed, while a small smile graces Kazuha's face. The two of them share a knowing look once more; this one means he'll be just fine.

As the sun rises on their journey, and the shores of Liyue grant them safe passage, the three of them are blissfully unaware that, on the very same islands they set sail from, Ayato is hastily putting on his suit and commanding his men to ready a ship of his own. 

Chapter Text

It’s raining, a strong early-morning downpour, when the ship finally pulls into the Dornman Port, which makes even finding the harbor a bit inconvenient. But with Thoma having packed very little, it doesn’t take him long to get ready to leave.

“You sure you’re gonna be okay?” Beidou yells over the sound of raindrops pelting wood, standing out in the open like nobody’s business. Kazuha is there too, but he’s opted to stay dry, finding solace underneath a canopy.

“I’ll be fine!” Thoma waves as he leaves the ship, his Liyuen umbrella taking the brunt of the rain. “Used to be from the land of thunder and lightning, after all. I can make my way from here. Thank you for accompanying me this far, Captain, Kazuha.”

“Be well,” the samurai says, bowing. “And at the Captain’s behest, remember to write.”

“Hey, that’s more your request than mine!”

“And yet you order that his letters be delivered to you personally.”

Thoma laughs out loud, standing at the docks a few moments longer to listen to their playful bickering fade, and watch the hulking silhouette of the Alcor fade into the dull bluish-gray of the rainy sky. In the distance, the silhouette of the Anemo Archon's statue is a familiar sight to him, through any weather and season. It almost feels, as his boots clack against slippery wet wood, as if the stormy wind itself is guiding him back to his true home.

Just a moment more, and I’ll be home at last.

“Chief Editor, are we writing another volume of Ayano and Tomoya’s story?”

Yae munches gaily on her fresh plate of fried tofu, nodding to the editor. “Yes, but leave most of the new volume’s details to me. I have the whole story under control.”

“What may I assist with?”

“Hm…” She taps her chin, thinking about it. It’s a sunny day, the sky bright and blue with cottony white clouds. She wouldn’t want people to work too hard, in times such as these. “I might call you from time to time. Your assistance might be of great use in proofreading and printing the work.” Waving an elegant hand, she says, “You can return now.”

“As you wish, Chief Editor.”

When he leaves the room, he holds the door open. Seconds later, Yae hears the familiar pit-patter as another person enters the room. “Ah, if it isn’t the acting Yashiro Commissioner.”

Ayaka stands beside her, gladly taking some fried tofu that Yae offers her. Her hair is pinned with a new comb, tied up in a neat bun, with two stray strands framing her face. The dress she’d normally wear has been swapped out for another one, sleek white and gold with a bit more Western flair to match her brother’s suit. Idly, Yae thinks that this look suits her quite well. “Good morning, Guuji Yae."

"Good morning, Ayaka," she says, pulling up a nearby chair. "Please, have a seat. How is work?"

"Well…" She takes a seat, scratching at her nape sheepishly. "It's all going as smoothly as it can, for someone's first day on the job, I suppose. Brother was sure to leave me with only the jobs that I could handle."

"Glad to hear he's still got some rational thinking left. I heard he left in quite a hurry yesterday."

"He did. Something came up that changed his plans entirely, and I wasn't able to predict just how involved I would become." Without saying a single word, the two were still able to get across the depth of Ayaka's instigation of the matter, signaled by a knowing glint in their eyes. With a pleased hum, she smooths out her skirt, eyes trained out the window. "But anyways, am I correct in my suspicions that you’re creating a new volume to that romance?”

“You heard correctly,” she replies. “In fact, you’re right on time. I was about to formulate a draft of the new events.”

“Oh, I remember the last volume started out with Ayato—wait, no, that’s not the name, my apologies.”

At this, Yae giggles. How cute. She gestures to a nearby notebook, and Electro energy flows down the quill next to it; it’s her favorite method of writing whilst keeping her hands free. “No, no. You have a point. The intelligent reader should be able to see past the names of Ayano and Tomoya to reveal their true identities.”

“If I may ask,” Ayaka says, leaning forward a bit to better glimpse the writing, “how do you manage to get the stories so…”

“Accurate?”

"True to life, I suppose is a better term.”

Chewing on a new piece of tofu, Yae hums, pleased with how fast the younger girl picks up. “You've come at an auspicious time. I am a firm believer that the narration will tell all."

"Come on, it's about time we bring out the stronger stuff. No new customers are bound to come around these—hold on. Is that... Thoma?"

It had been a couple of days now since Thoma arrived in Mondstadt; that time was spent making sure his mother was comfortable and cared for in their old home, as well as reacquainting himself with the flow of the city.

The very same flow that, today, has carried him into Angel's Share.

"Kaeya!"

Kaeya rises to his feet, offering him a friendly hug. Thoma laughs, taking a seat on the stool nearest to the counter. "You smell so much like wine."

"Do I, now? Can you tell which kind?"

"That's the thing—you reek of all of them!"

That makes Kaeya chuckle and lean on Rosaria's shoulder. The nun waves at him over her own drink. "Welcome back. He's said an awful lot about you, but to be fair, I didn't think you existed until now."

"Um… thank you? I guess?"

"How insincere! That was not a compliment in any shape or form! Had you imparted such words onto me, I would swear vengeance upon you."

"The name's Rosaria, and this is Eula," Rosaria says, apparently used to the whole vengeance spiel. "She does this a lot."

"Ah—well, it's wonderful to meet you, and I hope I don't accidentally warrant your vengeance in any way," Thoma says sheepishly, doing a little bow. If Eula's nod is anything to go by, she seems pleased with his response. 

"Alright, alright." Kaeya downs half of his cup, using it to gesture behind him. "Now that you've met all of us—"

"Not all of us," Rosaria corrects. "The bard isn't here yet."

"Eh, he'll come around. It's only the afternoon, after all. What I wanted to say is, now that you've found your way here, it would be terribly rude of us not to re-introduce you to the man of the house."

At that, Thoma turns towards the counter.

And right on time, like an actor cued to appear on stage at that exact moment, Diluc emerges from the tavern's pantry. 

Today, his blood red locks are tied up in an elegant but still casual high ponytail. Two loose strands, fallen out from the day's activity, frame his sharp jaw. He's on bartender duty, so he's swapped out the dark coat and layers for the classic black get-up with a white suit vest; still movable, though it does hug his waist a bit. 

For a moment, he's too caught up in mixing drinks, before Kaeya calls him out with a psst and then nods his head in Thoma's direction. 

"What is it now—oh Archons."

No further words need to be said, as the two nearly run right into each other, falling right into a tight embrace. It's comfort, and stability, and an overwhelmingly suffusing sense of warmth, like they'd both downed a Pyro resonance potion and stood in the midday sun. Breathing deep, Thoma shuts his eyes and revels in the soothing pine-bonfire scent of Diluc; it takes all the strength he has not to start crying again.

"You're… real. You’re actually here." Diluc pulls away first, though he is reluctant to do so. As a compromise, he keeps his hands on Thoma's shoulders. "They finally offered you a vacation, hm?"

"Yeah." A bitter chuckle. "A permanent one."

"A permanent one?” He ushers Thoma back into his seat, getting right to making his drink. "What happened?"

“I… gh.” 

That tired groan gets the attention of not just Diluc, but also of the other three, who lean forward in interest. At least they have the patience to wait for Thoma to try his drink, before the blonde sighs and reclines on the nearby wall.

“The man I was working for… well, he's just had an arranged marriage.”

He can see Eula immediately shake her head in disapproval, and continues. There is no alcohol in his drink—because Diluc knows too well the signs of someone who’s had too much too fast—but still, the words flow from his mouth like the fountain in the plaza. “He’s from a powerful family, so it shouldn’t have been surprising. But he and I… no."

"Oh?"

"That was just me. I was the one who fell for him.”

Kaeya gasps, scandalized even though he was the one who asked. Rosaria raises an eyebrow and fully sets down her cup. Diluc might be polishing a glass to the side, but he looks about ready to punch someone. 

“It all happened so suddenly, and I got no word of it until the ceremony was over…” His throat’s gone dry, so he takes another slow sip, trying to steady himself. “So I got up and left. I wrote a letter explaining why, but—”

“Hold on,” says Kaeya. “What’s this man’s name?”

“...Kamisato Ayato.”

“Kamisato…” Eula considers it for a second, before shaking her head. “I don’t recognize the name.”

“Okay, so we know that he, as a man, doesn’t matter.”

Rosaria smacks Kaeya on the shoulder, and he winces. The two fall into another round of light-hearted bickering as Eula asks, “Was the letter you left him one of a confession?” 

Thoma shakes his head. “It was just a simple resignation letter. There’s no way I could have found the right words to describe how I truly felt, in that moment. In fact, looking back on it, I don’t know if it was a good decision to have left so quickly.”

“He completely disregarded your feelings,” Rosaria cuts in. “That’s not only unprofessional as your master, but also incredibly inconsiderate as someone you placed your trust in. As long as that letter explained what needed to be explained, your decision to leave is justified.”

“Additionally, it is customary to inform everyone when two noble clans are joined in matrimony . Even the lowliest of servants should know of the occasion, and the services they must perform for the guests in the ceremony.”

“Hm… when put like that, it sounds like Thoma’s master left him out purposefully.”

“Did you do anything to anger him, possibly incur his wrath in this form?” 

Thoma shakes his head, as Diluc refills his cup. (He would have spoken, about how Ayato was not quick to anger and didn't get angry in that way. But Diluc's gloved fingers brused against his when he took the cup, leaving lingering sparks for the briefest of moments, both their hearts beating a bit faster.)

“Then that settles it.” Eula snatches Kaeya’s bottle, refilling her own cup. “No matter his intentions, it was a terrible oversight on his part.”

Kaeya nods, nudging Eula’s hand so she gives back the bottle. “I think I speak for all four of us when I say: someone like you doesn’t deserve to be treated that way. Mondstadtians, we fall hard and fast; it’s a damn shame he wasn’t prepared to catch you. But you’re here now—” and his lone gaze wanders to Diluc knowingly when he says, “—back with people who do care about you, and will be here for you any way we can be.”

Meeting that single blue gaze, Diluc clears his throat. “You and your mother live alone now, don’t you?”

“We do. Our house isn’t exactly what it used to be, though.” Thoma chuckles, a real one. How light his heart feels; how refreshing the sensation of freedom is. “I’m afraid that if I dust the shelves too hard, they’ll fall apart!”

“That settles it, then. You and your mother are staying at the Dawn Winery while I find another suitable place in the city for you to live.”

“Wait, wait—you can do that?”

“He’s not the richest man in the city for nothing,” Rosaria speaks up. 

“...What she said,” Diluc replies, and if Thoma isn’t mistaken, he looks almost… shy. “There are many available rooms at the winery; if you would like, you can help around the house as well, though there are already maids doing so. And as long as you wish to stay, I’ll support you and your mother, until you’ve decided you can stand on your own again.”

It takes him a moment to consider. While they aren’t exactly short on Mora, they’re not exactly set for the rest of their lives either. What Diluc is offering him is a stable source of income, a place that won’t blow down when the winds get too strong… and the trustworthy presence of a friend.

“That would be wonderful. Thank you.”

From their table, Kaeya applauds them, while Rosaria nods and Eula raises her glass in a makeshift toast. He’s suddenly hyper-aware of Diluc smiling at him. It looks and feels like coming across a crackling bonfire after hours of trekking through the coldest, most perilous mountains. 

Thoma finds he wouldn’t give this moment up for all the wine in the world.

Ayano carried the omamori of the mountain kitsune with him. Through that, the kitsune could always watch over Ayano in the search for his blazing sparrow who suddenly ran away.

Towards the land of rock and strength, the boat sailed under clear skies. Upon the docks, Ayano asked the people for a certain someone he described as such:

"His hair is as gold as the sunset, his eyes green as the jade in your jewelry. He is clad in red and black, wielding a spear like that of your Millelith, which he uses to protect his comrades—especially me—when we do battle with our adversaries."

Coming from the distance, a young chef with the same Pyro affinity and a bear for her companion spoke up.

"What would his name be?"

"His name is Tomoya."

"Oh, he's come through here! I remember him coming to our restaurant around a few days ago."

"He did?"

"Yup! My father and I were quite shocked about him, in fact. He ordered one Adeptus Temptation, ate it all up alone, and then said that he needed the meal. If I remember correctly… yes, he said he would be again boarding a ship to take him to Mondstadt."

"How was he?"

"Hm… I don't know, he seemed pretty down when he first came in. But he took a bite of our food, and suddenly was all smiles. That's what makes me proud to do what I do."

With much gratitude, Ayano thanked the chef, and thus took the route on land. At last, after constant ambushes from various monsters which he had all fended off, he reached the City of Winds and Freedom. Upon his arrival here, he was looked upon with great amazement by the townspeople for his graceful looks and respectable stature.

Then, a familiar laugh was heard nearby, towards the east of the fountain facing the statue of their Archon. He followed the sound, and there stood—

“You two be careful now!” Kaeya calls out, as the three of them go their separate ways. It’s quite late in the night now; the lanterns along Mondstadt’s streets have all been lit, casting cobblestone in a homey golden glow. Angel’s Share is officially closing for the evening, as the light of the full moon peeks out from wispy dark blue clouds. “Don’t get into any trouble on the way home.”

“That, coming from you?”

“Diluc, you wound me!” 

“Tch, as if anything hurts you.”

The Cavalry Captain cackles, heading on his way. Diluc sighs, rearranging the chairs of the al fresco tables as Thoma locks the door behind him, admiring the sights of the city. “Sorry about him. That’s just how it is, around here. You could probably get a better experience at the Cat’s Tail.”

“Yes, but you wouldn’t be there,” Thoma teases. 

He freezes for just a second, his face slightly flushed. “...They didn’t sneak any alcohol into your drink, did they?”

“I didn’t taste anything. And besides, you made all my drinks yourself. You would know very well what goes into them.”

“I only wanted to ensure that you wouldn’t say or do anything you didn’t want to. Liquor tends to have that effect on people. …And I wanted to remember you sober.”

“Remember me?” Thoma stands, pushing his chair back. “Diluc, I’m not leaving any time soon.”

“I know that.” One of his hands reaches out, gloved fingers hesitantly intertwining with Thoma’s own. “Going back there isn't an option, at the moment. Still, it's been so long. It’s not far off to say we’ve both changed; in fact, my last memories of you were when we were children."

"Yeah, I remember you rolling down the hill just to pick some windwheel asters."

"Wh—I did not roll!"

"Yes, you did!"

"How do you know that?"

"Because I rolled too! I was waiting for you to catch up, and then you ran right into me!"

"There's no way."

"Look, I still have a bruise on my elbow from that!"

They both laugh, Thoma falling forward to lean on his shoulder. Diluc sighs, patting his back. "See? Those were the days. So I… want to make new ones, better ones.”

Their fingers link, palms perfectly slotting together. “If you would want that.”

All of a sudden, the air is still. There's nothing but the sound of crickets chirping, a faint wind blowing past and making leaves in the trees rustle. This close, Thoma can feel Diluc's heartbeat well; it pounds right in time with his own, thrumming through both of them and igniting his soul like a sparkling firecracker.

So instead of answering, he pulls the other man into a soulful embrace. His arms wrap tight and stay there as he laughs, long and loud, in blissful catharsis.

For a moment, Diluc's eyes go wide in shock. Then he staggers forward, hugging back, returning the heat with all the force of a fire setting wood ablaze. 

Neither of them notice the lone outsider watching, nor how his pristine white suit pops out against the dark night. 

Back across the ocean, Yae crosses her arms, setting down her quill and reflecting upon all she’s seen through the omamori.

Having traveled halfway across the world, Ayato is ready to risk it all for his future with Thoma. As that story unfolds, so does the book—two birds with one spark, as they say. However, Diluc’s entrance into the story is giving Thoma the comfort he so desperately needs at the moment. Now standing at a forked road, Thoma must choose which path to take: life in the violet gardens, or the grassy windswept fields.

Yet although she anticipates how this story will end with much fervor, a heart cannot be rushed. His is in pieces now, and will take quite some time to return to its former state of shine and singularity, especially when broken by someone who it cherished and treasured.

She sighs, shutting the book. I shall tell Ayaka in the morning.

Chapter Text

As he does every night, Ayato ends the day with a prayer. 

However, this one is not to the god whose dominion he calls home. Rather than address his anxieties to the god of his violet gardens, he seeks out the Archon who rules over these fair windswept plains. When he speaks, it is in a hushed, reverent tone, hands clasped in the way he saw the sisters in the cathedral do.

“Lord Barbatos, please, let your wind carry my words towards his heart. Guide me, as I traverse in your domain, his land of birth, and show me the path to the freedom of my emotions.”

Then, he lingered a bit, unsure of how to end the prayer.

“You don’t need to end a prayer in any way. As long as you’ve shown your determination, the stars will hear, and align according to their grand plan.”

He looks up in mild surprise at the other boarder who’s just entered the room. She seems to be just a teenager, in blue and violet garb dotted with golden astrological designs. Seeing that he’s taken a bed already, she places her small knapsack down on the other one.

“H… how did you know that was on my mind?”

“My divination never falters. For instance, it told me earlier that another Hydro vision wielder form Inazuma would take up lodgings in this very same establishment.” She takes off her hat, sitting on her bed. “Ah, but I have not introduced myself. I am Mona Megistus, meaning the great Astrologist Mona. And you are…?”

“Kamisato Ayato.” He stands, bows, and shakes her hand. “The Yashiro Commissioner of Inazuma.”

“Nice to meet you—” And then she glances at her hand like she’d just touched something filthy. “Oh.”

“Oh?”

There was a long pause, for which she just stared at her palm. It was, quite frankly, starting to make Ayato nervous. Had he done something wrong, or performed a local custom incorrectly?

This anxiety turns to awe when he recognizes his constellation, formed within the shimmery Hydro astrolabe that Mona has summoned. “That… is my constellation.”

“Correct. This is the Cypressus Custos. One of great fortitude and stability, but belying greater strength. Now…”

Like a child fascinated with his newfound toy, Ayato marvels at Mona’s proficiency with the astrolabe. With a few clicks and turns, led by her dexterous fingers, a new constellation fades in from the old. One that brings a pang of bittersweet recognition to his heart.

“The Rubeum Scutum? Hm…”

Giving it a thorough once-over, Mona dispels the astrolabe in a watery flourish. “This constellation is a rare one to see. It is one mentioned in a few ancient texts, signifying great love, especially in hearth and home. Currently, both these constellations’ alpha stars are in retrograde.” 

She taps her chin then, gazing right at him as if trying to read his soul like an open book. “You are searching for someone in the city. Golden hair, green eyes, clothed in red and black. Wields a polearm, and has evaded you for a while—up until just recently. Am I correct?”

Shocked silence.

She allows herself the smallest of smug smiles. “That often means yes.”

"Have you seen him?"

"No, or I would have been guided into his path as well," she answers, stifling a yawn into the palm of her hand. "Perhaps when I have recovered enough of my energy, I can conduct deeper hydromancy." She looks him up and down, adding, "You have most likely come a long way. Have you had dinner?"

"Yes; Good Hunter's specialties are quite nice."

"Then it is time for rest." She casually kicks off her boots and slides under the covers, back turned to him. "Feel free to turn the lights off when you go to bed."

"Alright. Thank you, Ms. Megistus."

He had originally planned to shower first before slipping into one of the hotel's bathrobes, but once again tonight, she was right. Exhaustion was quickly catching up to him. So when his head hits the pillow, and he promises it's only going to be for five minutes, that promise goes out the window as he falls into a deep slumber.

"It's been a long time since I've seen this place,"  Thoma says, wiping his boots before stepping into the winery. "Still as beautiful as I remember it."

"Close the door behind you," Diluc calls, already lighting the fireplace with ease. "It gets cold just as easily as it warms up."

"Alright, alright."

Then, without much thought, he sing-songs like a lover returning from work. "I'm ho-ome!"

It echoes through the space, earning him a rich chuckle from Diluc, who pulls out an armchair next to the blaze. "Welcome home, Thoma."

He bows playfully in thanks, sitting in the armchair. It’s plush velvet, so soft it draws a groan from him the moment he sits down. After a few moments rummaging around in another part of the house, Diluc places down a glass of water and some small sandwiches on the coffee table, taking the seat opposite him. 

“If you’d arrived any earlier, I would have had a maid prepare these for us,” he says, taking a bite.

“Oh, that would have made me feel a bit guilty,” Thoma replies with a sheepish smile.

“Why so?”

“Well, I’m used to helping around the house a lot. It’s second nature to me now. I’ve never been the one served; always the one serving. If that makes sense.”

Diluc nods thoughtfully. “It’s a valiant occupation. Knowing you and what you’re capable of, I’d trust you more with matters of importance than anyone the Knights of Favonius could send.”

“Somehow you managed to flatter me and insult them at the same time?” 

“I pride myself on being capable of that.”

“Heh.” Thoma takes another sandwich; Diluc notices, and is glad that he’s prepared them correctly. “Those maids, do they live here too?”

“The mansion does have a few guest rooms that they can use if they want to. But if you noticed the houses surrounding the mansion? Those are still technically on winery grounds. Most of them live there; they come here to work, and return home when the sun fully sets on the horizon.” He takes a sip from his glass of water. “Did you have the same lodgings in Inazuma?”

“More personal than that. While the Kamisatos have a lot of people working for them, I was not only a housekeeper, but served as a member of the Yashiro Commission as well. So milady was gracious enough to grant me a whole room of my own, in the estate itself.”

“You really did all that alone…”

He nods. “I’m not sure why; I’ve always thought it would be more convenient if there were more people than me.”

Sensing somehow that those last words applied to more than their current conversation, Diluc reaches over, laying his gloved hand over Thoma’s own. “I cannot claim to offer you all the comfort you need, but know this. Here, you will never be alone. What one citizen of Mondstadt wants to do, the entire city rallies together to bring to life.”

Thoma visibly relaxes at the contact, his exhalation one of relief. He’s recently learned that training his gaze upwards is an easy way to suppress tears, so he does just that as he reclines further. Now that he has ample time to look around, his eyes scan over the mansion’s interior; simple yet refined, furbishings spotless, and exuding a sense of warmth through its colors that matches its owner. 

Off-handedly, he says, “The maids have kept this place really clean; your father will be pleased when he comes home.”

And then his eyes snap to where Diluc’s hand, instead of gently resting atop his, now tensely grips it before releasing. “Diluc… what’s wrong?”

For a second, he doesn’t respond, rubbing at his eyes. His tone is quiet, yet heavy, like the earth quietly rumbling in a cave. “He… While you were gone, he died.”

“No.” In an instant, Thoma is out of his chair, kneeling so he can give Diluc a hug. “I can’t believe it,” he whispers, forehead resting on his shoulder. “I’m so sorry. Please, don’t stress yourself out thinking about it.”

“You’re fine,” he reassures, resting his head against Thoma’s. “It was a long time ago, now.”

“He was a good man, I remember.

“One of the best.”

“Remember when I slipped and skinned my knee on the cobblestone while trying to help the maids sweep up leaves around the haystacks outside? He was the one who bandaged the wound.”

“I do recall—I was the one he scolded, even though I was inside the house, arranging invoices.”

“Heh, your form of rebellion then was taking all the clothes he bought for special occasions that had no longer fit you and giving them to me as gifts.”

“I did more than that. All the classes I attended—fencing, horseback riding, falconry—I was supposed to be there alone. The instructors were always shocked when I would bring you with me, and insist that you be taught too.”

With a giggle, Thoma sinks into the spot beside Diluc.  The armchair is thankfully just big enough for the two of them. “Do you… still have that falcon?”

“I do. He delivers important correspondences for me.”

“Where’d you get him?”

“I bought him from a reputable seller in Liyue.”

There’s a moment of silence, before Diluc scoffs. “Whatever you want to say, say it. …I did pledge my support. Or have you forgotten already?”

“Hey, that’s mean,” Thoma replies, without any bite behind it at all. “I… was about to ask if I can have your falcon deliver my letters, as well. I mean, not all the time, of course. But I do have to write to Captain Beidou and Kazuha, as thanks for allowing me to leave Inazuma.”

“Hm.” Humming, Diluc shifts in the seat to give Thoma more space. “I’ll get you your own falcon, then.”

“Wha—” Thoma sputters, waving his hands nervously. “Are you sure? I mean, that only means you’ll have to spend more to find a good one, and I don’t want to trouble you too much—”

“Nonsense. It’s more convenient this way; you have the skills to train it just as I do, and having your own means that it’ll be loyal only to your commands. Plus… I have heard from other falconers that they fare much better with company than they do alone. And none of the local birds stay for very long, in the presence of mine.”

“I guess you can say that’s two birds with one stone, then.”

Diluc groans fondly at that, and Thoma laughs, head resting on the other’s shoulder. One hand of his reaches out, palm held up to the fire; he focuses his energy on every crackling spark, every granule of ash, and the flames only grow stronger. Though he feels like he could nod off any moment now, his body still pleasantly thrums with the remaining energy that he knows in his bones is a biological Pyro resonance.

“Oh, look at the time.” The solid warmth by his side leaves all too fast, as Diluc extends a hand to help him up. “You should get some rest. There’s a room next to mine you can take; I just had it cleaned yesterday.”

Together, as if they’d been doing it for years and not just started tonight, they extinguish the fireplace, cover the remaining sandwiches, and head up the stairs. Thoma sets down his bag, drawing the curtains and making the bed while Diluc lights the lanterns and arranges the carpet just right. 

“If you ever need me, I’m in the next room over.”

“And if you need me—maybe to brainstorm some names for our falcons—I'll be right here, too.”

The youthful, amused smile Diluc shares with him then, with just a hint of teeth as the young master lingers in the doorframe, is nothing short of radiant. In Thoma’s eyes, he looks like how starting a new book feels, like his heart was a cage and the bird inside has finally taken flight for the first time. Hope incarnate.

“Goodnight, Thoma. Rest well.”

“Goodnight, Diluc. Sweet dreams.”

“Get up, sleepyhead.”

This is the most ungracefully Ayato’s ever been woken up in his life. Mona knows this, and as she tosses a neatly folded pile of Mondstadtian clothing onto his chest, she finds she couldn’t give less of a shit. “We’re going to Good Hunter. You haven’t eaten since yesterday’s dinner, am I correct?”

He nods.

“Put those on. They’ll help you stand out less in the crowds. You wouldn’t want to catch everyone’s attention again, much less potentially draw his.”

The pointed way she says that last word reminds him exactly who she’s talking about. While she leaves the room to take care of something in the lobby, Ayato carefully sheds his suit. He finds that while clothing in Mondstadt fits his sculpted stature well, the fabric is a bit scratchier than the silks he normally wears. Ah, well. At least it’s in his colors. 

With a wave of his hand, he says, “Thoma, I’m already up. Please clean up the—”

And then his hand falls, when he realizes there isn’t and there won’t be anyone to answer him this time. Suddenly, even though he woke up to sunshine streaming from the windows, it feels quite dark.

When he heads to the living room on the second floor, Mona is already there, wearing the same garb from yesterday. In one hand is a list of items, and in the other, she holds a small bag of Mora. Without turning to him, she says, “There are kitchenwares, if you wish to cook. Should they lack the ingredients, we can buy more from Blanche, at the general goods store. Keep in mind that they won’t have Inazuma’s regional specialties, seeing as the Sakoku Decree was only just lifted.”

They descend the stairs together, Ayato musing, “Usually, when I wake up, Thoma has already prepared me and my sister’s meals.” He sighs. “I miss his cooking.”

By the Archons. Mona tries her damndest to stifle a groan, remarking, “You really love him, don’t you?”

“I see now that I do.”

“Well… I am in no position to judge. I could sense the sincerity within your heart. Where there is true love, nothing should be allowed to stand in its way.”

That takes Ayato aback; he remembers clearly, he’s said those words before to another struggling just as he is now. “That is true… and somehow, you’ve vocalized my very thoughts word for word. You scare me sometimes, knowing you could easily pry into my mind whenever you want.”

“Ah, my apologies,” she says, in a way that doesn’t sound like one at all. “But frankly, I find your situation quite interesting. The view from within the tunnel is blurry; there is a light at the end, but what it shines down upon, I cannot tell whether it is hope or loss. You—”

“Whatever you see in your divination, please do not tell me,” he quickly cuts off, holding the door open for her. “I want to pave my own path towards his, and discover on my own whether or not they merge.”

She nods, as they come out into the bustling Mondstadtian streets. In his newfound garb, Ayato blends right in, looking no more out of place than Mona does herself. “It’ll be my pleasure. In exchange, I would like to be your guide around Mondstadt, as well as help you locate this Thoma. You see, my hydromancy is not limited to divination.” 

Standing beside her, she hands him the list and talks while perusing some fruit on sale. “I can pinpoint the locations of people as well. They aren’t one hundred percent exact, but they’ve never been wrong.”

“You can do all that, as well?” He puts a fresh sunsettia into their bag. “That greatly trumps what I am capable of.”

“I find it greatly varies based on one’s prior abilities, as well as their region. You prefer to slash at the enemies and quickly return to safety, which gives Thoma the opportunity to protect you with his flames. Both of you work best in your own element, complimenting each other—water quells fire, defense protects offense.” 

Satisfied, she pays, moving on to the next stall. “Though, I suppose it feels different when you are protected by the one you love, right?”

He hums, catching up with her. They walk in silence for a while, before she reaches out to stiffly pat his forearm once. “I am sure he’s also enjoyed his time with you, defeating foes he couldn’t handle alone.”

“Thank you.”

“It’s my pleasure.”

The shopping goes by uneventfully; while Mona haggles for a lower price, Ayato holds the basket and ponders life in this nation, so different from his own. Everyone here is so casual when interacting with others; even the Knights, who he thought would be a bit unapproachable, freely mingle with the common folk. He can see where Thoma gained his good-natured, friendly personality from. 

“We have everything we need, now,” she alerts him, tapping his forearm. “And this is as good a place as any. Feel free to put down that basket for a while.”

He places it down, watching intently as she summons the astrolabe once more. Forming Thoma’s constellation once more, Mona shuts her eyes and moves her hands outwards; before Ayato’s eyes, it extends to fill the gap. The rings around the watery contraption begin to spin, starting slow and then speeding up as the constellation glows brighter. Tentatively, he reaches out to one ring, slim fingers passing right through the shimmering mirage.

After a few minutes, Mona sighs, shrinking it back down but not collapsing it fully. “So far, I am not sensing him within the city walls. It must be because of the number of people out. I’ll have to further extend my astrolabe.”

“Please do not worry. I can handle myself when it comes to water.”

Nodding in understanding, she extends it yet again. Now her hands are spread past shoulder width, the astrolabe nearly as tall and wide as his own form. It picks up speed, and the stars of Thoma’s constellation begin to shift, tracing out a new shape that Ayato can’t say he’s familiar with.

Clicking her tongue, Mona says, opening her eyes, "He's not in the city itself, though traces of his energy linger. I also detect a much stronger blaze."

"Can you pinpoint where he is, outside of the city?"

Her hands swiftly cross over the circle, pointing out several spots. "If the city is here, and this portion is Springvale… Yes. He is in Dawn Winery. And he—"

It shifts just right so the constellation is completed, and she gasps. 

"What is it?"

Frowning, she flicks and spins the image around. "Noctua. Symbolizing depth, duty, and hidden passions, this constellation famously shares a beta star with Rubeum Scutum."

It seems like she's pinpointed a location. "Thoma is currently within the mansion on the grounds of the winery, sleeping soundly under the care of one Diluc Ragnvindr. He's a well-known name around these parts; in fact, he owns one of the taverns in the city, the Angel's Share. It's to the east of the fountain. Impossible to miss."

The east of the fountain. 

…Could it be?

Like a dam finally overflowing, the events of last night rush back into Ayato's head. His Thoma, with a laugh like wind chimes tinkling in the carefree wind, wrapped snugly in another man's arms… that man with flaming red hair must have been Diluc, then. 

What did he have that Ayato didn't? What could he possibly give him that Ayato couldn't fulfill tenfold?

Despite the protests of his rational mind, his Vision flares like a massive star as a newfound drive sparks within his heart. 

Impossible to miss, indeed. I'm bringing you back. And you won't need to miss him ever again.

Chapter Text

“How about making him a peace offering of sorts… something with these ingredients?” Mona had helpfully suggested, when they got back to the hotel. 

“Oh, no,” Ayato replies as he shakes his head. “He’s leagues better at cooking than I am.”

“Surely there was a period of time you spent together wherein you attempted to learn from him?” she hums. “It’s an awfully domestic scene; hard to believe it hasn’t yet occurred, at your grown age.”

But in the end, Ayato was right; his attempt at making cream stew wasn’t as successful as he’d hoped. Not enough to be downright awful, but Mona still had to wash it down with a glass of water after the meal, so not the best either. Through his omamori, he can almost hear Yae mockingly berating him, all the way from Inazuma.

From then on, Mona had served her own dish, and the two had talked through their homemade breakfast. He had better skill at diverting the topic of conversation, so things were less focused on him for once. “I forgot to ask, Mona. Why were you so interested in becoming my guide in Mondstadt? And in locating Thoma as well?”

All of a sudden, she looks… nervous? “What do you mean by that?”

He shrugs, playing the role of casual conversationalist perfectly. “You haven’t asked me yet to do anything in exchange. In my nation, that often implies the presence of an ulterior motive. So… spill. What were you hoping to make me accomplish, once you’d earned my trust?”

He’s got it exactly. Knowing now that she might not be the only mind-reader around these parts, Mona relents. “You saw through me, Commissioner. An impressive feat; as such, it warrants only the truth.”

“I’m listening.”

She’s careful to use as little words as possible, while still making the explanation clear. “You see, I am not originally from Mondstadt. I hail from a clandestine organization of witches. My master ordered me to fetch something from the city, but this endeavor has drained most of my Mora. So I take commissions at the Adventurers’ Guild, in order to save up Mora to pay for my current lodgings. But of course, other things come up—repairs for my equipment, and other miscellaneous indulgences. And the commissions are often very draining.”

Leaning forward, she steeples her fingers in thought. “So what I had in mind was that we could split the commissions, to accomplish that faster. Of course, the rewards will also be split between—”

“Oh, there’s no need,” he quickly amends. “You may keep all the commissions’ rewards. I brought with me a suitable amount of mora to sustain my stay in the city.”

All I need from here is him… all I’ve ever truly needed is Thoma, is what he thinks after it.

Archons, you sure are down bad, is what she thinks upon hearing that, even when her eyes sparkle and she thanks him profusely at the notion of keeping all the money.

A look at the clock says it’s around nine AM—doing good time, since she’d woken him at six, plus the hour-long shopping—and Mona stands to clear the table. “We’ll most likely make it to the Adventurers’ Guild at nine-fifteen. How many commissions do you want to take?”

“How many are given?”

“I normally take a set of four by myself.”

“Then, if it is alright with you, we’ll each take four. Eight commissions should double the earnings, if I’ve done the math correctly. Allow me to prepare my blade; it’s still up in our room.”

“See you then,” she says, waving him off as she does their dishes.

The rest of the morning passes with them completing their commissions with relative ease. Five consisted of battles, two were food deliveries, and the last was a training session with Ellin beside the Knights of Favonius’ headquarters. By noon, they find themselves relaxing from a morning’s worth of work, west of the Springvale falls.

“To think we finished eight commissions before noon!” Mona claps, leaning against the tall rock that shielded her from the sun. “Normally, I’d only be able to accomplish two to four in an entire afternoon. And it’s all thanks to your elegant yet efficient skills, Ayato!”

“You flatter me,” he says, sitting on a low tree branch. “And your control over the battlefield is impeccable as well. Your abilities, combined with my own, create a wonderful Hydro resonance that allows me to hone in on enemies.”

“See?” she says, a teasing glint in her eyes. “Your fast watery slashes do have some benefit! So you shouldn’t take yourself so lightly, just because my skills are different. I believe that Thoma thinks they’re a sight to behold, when you’re protecting the people close to you from harm.”

Ayato only smiles at the mention, the bright indigo blade of Haran Geppaku Futsu reflecting the clear, sunny sky. Never before has a blade that has wrought so much damage looked so… tranquil and serene.

The serenity of the afternoon, however, is shattered with a single blow as Mona abruptly sits up straight. “The phoenix and the sparrow. They’re in battle. There are other unfamiliar energies; their presences are repulsive.”

“What?! They’re in danger? Where are they now?!”

Her head simply snaps to the right, and right on cue, a worker from Dawn Winery comes running in, covered in bruises and cuts. Behind him is a sizable crowd of hilichurls and mitachurls. “Help!” he cries. “The winery is under attack by these strange fire-wielding swordsmen! There are too many of them to hold off for long!”

Instantly leaping to their feet, Mona and Ayato take to defeating the monsters with ease—first Mona’s phantom, and then Ayato’s slashes. 

“Cascade!”

While he engages them in battle, she switches from her Favonius Codex to her Prototype Amber, dashing behind him to Connor’s side.

“Fate is upon you!”

Her new spell heals Connor’s injuries, and with a flick of her hand, deals extra damage to the monsters with every one of Ayato’s effortless slashes. Only a moment more before the battle ends; then, they’re all taking off in the direction of the winery.

“Thank you both so much!” Connor says.

“Take refuge here in Springvale,” Ayato instructs, tone hardened now, truly like that of a commander. “We’ll handle the attacks on the winery.”

“And if you could, call upon Barbara, Bennett, and the Acting Grand Master!” Mona adds on. “This is an emergency. Tell the three to make haste; when everyone convenes here, you’ll need all the healing you can get. Only when fully healed can they even think of helping out. And—oh, take this.”

Not taking time to stop, she tosses her Prototype Amber, and Connor fumbles to catch it. “Won’t you need this?”

“I’ve got more weapons.” She speeds up to match Ayato’s pace. “Give that to Barbara, she’ll know what to do!”

Leaving him in the dust, the two rush towards the Winery. Even from this distance, one can see the once-lush green sights surrounding the mansion burned away by crimson streaks into a charred black mess. There is the familiar whoosh and clang of swords, an eerily familiar silhouette—and Ayato freezes in place, equal parts shocked and furious.

“The Kairagi in Mondstadt? How?!”

Even as the battle rages, Mona hears his shocked exclamation. “You know these guys?”

“They are native enemies to Inazuma,” he answers, fending off the blades of two at once. “I don’t know how they arrived so far from home, but if Thoma and I can, I have no doubt they can as well.”

“You might be right,” she says, leaping fluidly to slam three into each other. “There was an emergence of Rifthounds near Wolvendom a while back, too.”

“Rifthounds? Their leader, the Golden Wolflord, is also in Inazuma!”

“The Golden Wolflord?” She elbows one in the face, dodging another’s overhead hit. “Wolvendom houses Lupus Boreas, the Wolf of the North! They could be related.”

“And the Wolflord can forge rifts through space itself, which the Rifthounds could have used.” Ayato spins, stabbing one and knocking another out with the hilt of the blade in a backwards thrust. “Why Wolvendom, though, I have no clue.”

Still, the battle goes on; even as their attacks grow long over the minutes, the number of Kairagi approaching doesn’t ever seem to thin. Mona huffs, swinging at one and bringing him down. “There’s too many of them! And not only are they huge, they’re all Pyro—that wouldn’t help Master Diluc’s case at all.”

“I’ve fought them before,” Ayato replies, dashing away from his clones that are also fighting valiantly. “They usually come in pairs of Pyro and Electro. When one dies, the others recover half their energy—manageable for our element, but their numbers still prove a hassle.”

“Meaning we need to beat them both at the same time.” Mona lunges at one, and with a twist of her thighs, he’s down on the ground; she stands on him while beating up the others. “But there aren’t any Electro variants here. This should be a clean sweep.”

“I know—”

And then he remembers who else would have been here other than Diluc. “But we need to find Thoma now!”

“Shit—you’re right! His defenses might be Pyro, but he can’t hold them off forever.”

Casting a large Hydro spell over the area, she addresses all the workers at once through it, voice booming over their fearful screams. “Everyone! Seek refuge in Springvale! We’ve cleared the path before you, and healers as well as the Acting Grand Master are waiting. We can handle it from here!”

As people flee, she zips back and forth around the remaining Kairagi, summoning phantoms in her wake and cloaking them with damaging water. To Ayato, she screams, “The river to the south is where we need to be. There’s an abnormally large amount of Pyro energy there—they might be in trouble!”

“On it!”

“Time for retribution!”

“I’ve got you covered!”

They’re standing in the river, and yet when Ayato spots them a couple feet away,, the first thing that knocks him backwards is the sheer heat of a massive slash of fire, with a resounding boom as something hits the ground… and then a phoenix, spreading its wings of flame as it rages past enemies, leaving charred bodies in its wake.

Soaring high and mighty above the un-singed grass, it just brushes past him, burning the bottom edge of his sleeve and knocking him back into a nearby tree. He’s never seen fire in such a form; for some reason, it makes him grit his teeth. So this is what the master of Dawn Winery is truly capable of.

Quickly righting himself, he fends off another Kairagi, and when he gets close enough, he sees—

Thoma and Diluc are standing back-to-back, pressed together by a thick Crimson Ooyoroi. It’s brighter than he’s ever seen it blaze; where Diluc slashes overhead with his crimson claymore, Thoma skillfully ducks and pierces enemies from behind. And when Thoma swings his spear far above his head and hurls it, Diluc swings at those that pop up behind him. It’s as if the two are partners in a dangerous dance, who’ve mastered each step and form.

But Ayato can see it in the minutiae; they’re both heaving for cool air. Thoma’s grip trembles on the handle of his spear, and so does Diluc’s hand around his waist. The swell of emotions makes it feel as though his heart is beating out of his chest.

“Thoma!” Diluc calls out, reaching above him once more. “Enough of your shields! You can’t possibly protect both of us; you’ve been injured!”

Ayato flinches at the words; he’s right, there is a gash running right down Thoma’s form, clothes torn open, skin and fabric alike stained with red.

Thoma… 

“No!” Thoma replies, lunging forward yet again before retreating into Diluc’s side. “I'm not leaving you alone! This is what I developed the attack for: protecting the people I care about! I’ve fought them before. If I defended Milord, I can do more for you too!”

Hearing that title alone from his lips makes Ayato’s knees give out, as he staggers forward with a pained, desperate groan. For a moment, the weakness catches up to him; he can do nothing but stare at the two, a picture-perfect example of synergy and belonging.

Thoma! I want to see you! I want to embrace you, to touch you again! I need it!

Another hostile slash; this time, Diluc takes its brunt with a groan, but Thoma’s defense is quickly struggling to hold. The cry he lets out feels like a slap to the face.

Thoma, please don’t die on me!

He doesn’t know how long he spent, watching like a defenseless fool, but it’s enough time for Mona to sprint back in. “What happened?! Are you hurt?”

“My chest…”

She props him up, looking for a wound or something broken, but he shakes his head and pushes her away. “No, it’s not the battle. This… has been happening ever since I first caught sight of him in the city.”

Huffing, she helps him up, handing him a vial. “I had a feeling this would happen. Drink this; it’s an herbal painkiller from Liyue. I’d often use it to soothe body pains after commissions, but you need it now more than me.”

He gratefully downs it, the relief washing over his form as the two get ever closer to the river. “What happened to the other Kairagi?”

“Kaeya and the other Knights stepped in to help. I also summoned some phantoms to divide them from this group. We should be able to take care of this batch first before finishing them off.”

“Got it.”

The water ripples as they close in, sensing a Hydro resonance. They’re dashing as fast as they can, weapons ready and prepared to take the fight to them—

—Diluc takes a hard blow to the side, knocking the blade out of his hands and him onto his knees. Thoma spins in front, emerald eyes blazing as he raises his polearm decisively, right as the remaining Kairagi charge their weapons and surge—

“THOMA, NO!”

Chapter Text

In the end, Mona is the fastest.

Distracted by the Hydro phantom she’s swiftly summoned, the Kairagi attack that in turn, letting Diluc and Thoma slip away. The two cross the river, Thoma carried bridal-style in Diluc’s arms as they take shelter into the clusters of trees. Diluc’s eyes keep on Thoma all that time, frenzied with concern despite his own injuries, as he taps his cheek. “You’ll be alright. Stay with me here.”

Thoma’s hazy, unfocused eyes are locked onto him. He’s covered in bruises, cuts, and minor burns; blood flows from underneath his headband, down his eyebrows, and stains his blonde hair. He moves to speak, but coughs up blood instead, weakly cupping Diluc’s cheek with a soft smile that should have been erased by the battle but wasn’t. “I’m… gh, fuck that hurts—I’m not going anywhere.”

“Thoma!”

They both tense up at that voice; Diluc in protectiveness, and Thoma in recognition. 

“Mona, here!” Diluc calls to her, thankful for a familiar face. As her phantom overcomes the last Kairagi, she runs to their aid, Ayato following suit.

“We’ve evacuated everyone,” she says, dropping to her knees to wipe the blood off Thoma’s face with the edge of his cape. He wants to nod, but his head lolls to the side; he's knocked out, now. She shakes her head as Diluc's grip on him tightens. “You two, go and seek refuge in Springvale. The winery’s too dangerous for now; we’ll stay here and—”

“No, no, no, Thoma—” 

And then there is Ayato, all but shoving them both aside to cradle Thoma in his arms. Uncaring of how the blood seeps into his silk whites, he sobs unfettered into Thoma’s shoulder. It’s an aggrieved cry; he glares down at Diluc as he yells, “You! You’ve failed to protect him! Look at him, he’s bloody and unconscious!”

It clicks in Diluc’s head, then. He clutches where Ayato shoved him; it's a large, open gash on his side, now freely flowing blood into his undershirt. “You were his master. The very same one he ran from. Aren't you?”

“What about it?!” He’s on his feet, then, brandishing the bloody Haran with a newfound fury in his eyes. “I don’t give a damn who I am, you will pay for this! Kamisato Art—”

SMACK!

Ayato flinches back at the hard slap, dropping his sword as his cheek swells red with a fresh handprint. 

“Pull yourself together!” screams Mona, shaking her hand from the force of the impact. It makes her palm sting fiercely, and she sneers at him. “We’re all confused and scared right now! Your anger alone is not going to end the threat, and it's obviously not going to put him back together!”

She turns back and nods to Diluc, quickly handing him a vial with a shimmering red liquid inside. “Feed this to him, and don’t waste a single drop. When you get to Springvale, Barbara, Bennett, and the Acting Grand Master will be waiting. Tell them they’ll all need to heal him, at the same time.”

“Thank you,” he mutters, as he holds on to the vial tight. And his eyes meet Ayato’s, for but the briefest of tense moments—before he decides not to say a word, instead shedding his coat and bundling Thoma up in it as they run away together.

Picking his sword back up, Ayato watches them leave with an intense gaze. His chest is heaving, the heat of his anger finally quelled… but not by much, as passion keeps it lit.

“Was that enough of a wake-up call,” remarks Mona as she dusts off her cape, “or do we need more Kairagi to knock some sense into you?”

“I’m sorry,” he groans, shaking his head. “I should have composed myself better there. That’s not how a commissioner behaves, especially not in these high-pressure situations.”

Rolling her eyes, she only nods at him as she dashes off yet again. “Come on. We’ve got more to do.”

"I can see reinforcements on the horizon!"

"That's the sound of Eula's voice," says Mona, as they reach the battlefield.

"Eula?"

"See them?" She points to Eula, and then Rosaria and Kaeya trailing behind, all dealing fierce battle with the Kairagi. "They're all Cryo users; Eula and the man, Kaeya, are with the Knights of Favonius, while Rosaria is with the Church." Cracking her knuckles, she dives in. "This will be over before you can blink."

Phantoms. Slashes. Swings and slams. Working as a team, the Hydro and Cryo users along with the Knights give their all to overpower the Kairagi. Despite Mona's earlier remark, it takes them all the better half of an hour and all of Mona's stocked-up resonance potions to finally clear the area of enemies.

"That's the last!" Rosaria calls out, bringing her final spear down from overhead. "We're done here."

Kaeya nods, dispelling his own attack. "Alright, men. Springvale for the injured. Healers are waiting there. The rest of you, back to your posts."

"And never drop your guard," adds Eula authoritatively, claymore standing firm on charred ground. "We don't know yet where these enemies could have hailed from. If more descend closer to the city, we will need all hands on deck."

"Actually," says Kaeya, tapping her shoulder as a lone blue eye trains onto the other two, "I think I might have a clue."

While Mona and Ayato catch their breath, Kaeya cheerfully jogs up to them, his act of playing dumb flawless. "Wonderful job out there, although I wouldn't expect less from Mondstadt's greatest astrologist herself. …Oh, but who might this enigmatic stranger with you be?"

"Kamisato Ayato," he says, extending his hand for a shake. "The Yashiro Commissioner of Inazuma."

Kaeya blissfully pretends not to see it, tapping his chin. "Hmm… sounds familiar. Ladies, help me out here—where have we heard of such a name before?"

Catching on to the tricksy game he's playing, Rosaria snaps her fingers. "I had heard of a controversial arranged marriage from a distant land, between two powerful clans. Forgot the names, but Kamisato sounds like one of them."

"Is that so?" asks Eula, with a knowing glance. "That is a prosperous development, especially considering their noble status. I wonder, then, what business he has in our city."

"Mm, I don't know either," Kaeya drawls, all three of them now shooting accusing glares at Ayato. The air that was once sweltering hot has gone downright frosty, sending a chill up his spine. "Perhaps looking for a way to remedy said controversy. Though, based on the look on his face… perhaps the answer has eluded him, yet again."

"What are you implying?" Ayato retaliates as his hand carefully drifts back to his sword.

"Oh, nothing, nothing at all," Kaeya smiles, without any of the good will behind it. "That helped jog my memory quite a bit. And, out of the goodness of my heart as a Knight of Favonius, I shall leave you with a piece of advice. Sort of a rule to keep in mind when you're around these parts."

Their Cryo visions gleam, all together. He leans forward just enough to meet his gaze directly, breath frigid and words even colder.

"If you wrong one of us, you wrong all of us. So please, think before you act; after all, we wouldn't want a guest falling into enemy fire."

With that metaphorical sword now hanging over Ayato’s head, ready to fall at any moment, the three of them take their leave. Their conduct renders him speechless.

"Huh." Mona crosses her arms, already packing up her weapon as they head back to Springvale. "Those three are certainly on Thoma's side, aren't they?"

"How would they even know about that?"

"Simple. They're regulars at the Angel's Share."

"...Oh." So of course they would know. Thoma has never been shy about opening up to the people he trusts.

They walk in relative silence, before Mona breaks it once more. This time, her tone is friendlier, only a bit louder than the rustling of leaves and the chirping of unaware birds. "When Thoma wakes up… are you going to go see him?"

"I will be by his side long before he awakens," Ayato replies, determination clear.

"What do you plan on saying?"

"First, an apology. Second, a confession. And third, an invitation to come home with me."

"Can I offer you some advice? It isn't a prediction; simply an astrological observation. And it may not sting as much as Kaeya's, but I want to ensure you are prepared for whatever action you choose to take."

Ayato nods. "Feel free."

"Rubeum Scutum is a constellation bordering the Mondstadtian astronomical sphere; one of its stars connects to the Liyuen sphere by the Victor Mare, and two connect to the Inazuman sphere through the Grus Nivis and the Cypressus Custos. You recognize two of those: his and yours."

"Grus Nivis is my sister's constellation."

"That makes sense. You said he was your housekeeper, after all. But very rarely do Rubeum Scutum and Cypressus Custos align; when they do, one of three things happen."

"What are they?"

"First, the stars that meet glow brighter in tandem. Their gravitational fields cause massive flares between the two stars, before they drift away once more. Second, they trigger a massive meteor shower, visible from even here. Third… there is no reaction, and the transit continues uneventfully."

Her eyes meet his, as if to emphasize her next words. "And there is no way to predict which happens in a particular encounter."

It takes him a moment, but he catches on. "I see."

"Just… hope for the best, but prepare yourself for the worst, too." 

The familiar sight of Springvale dawns on them, now full of crowds, and as if remembering that they're wounded, the two pick up the pace. 

Once Springvale welcomes them into its embrace once more, they come across the encampment the Knights had set up. Barbara and Bennett are flitting around, healing people with the power of both soothing water and invigorating heat; off to the side, Jean whispers a command to a knight, who dashes off with a letter in hand. When she spots them, she calls out, “Mona, over here!”

The two come close; from where they’re made to sit, Ayato can see just how many people were injured by the Kairagi’s sudden onslaught. Though they’re healed, a lot of people are still knocked out, with those who are tending to them looking bone-tired.

“Here’s your Prototype Amber,” Barbara says, the orb hanging between them as musical notes surround Mona. “It was really helpful; thank you so much for letting me borrow it.”

“I’m glad it did its job,” Mona says, wincing as a scratch in her thigh is covered with water and disappears. “When I’ve saved up enough, I’ll give you your own.”

“Eh?” She waves her hands, embarrassed. “There’s no need, Miss Mona! I can probably afford one on my own, anyway, and I don’t want to pressure you.”

“I’m just glad I was able to help!” says Bennett, as he and Ayato sit in the healing circle. Ayato traces the little thumbs-up mark on the ground with his foot, chuckling.

“We need to outline where exactly these enemies came from, what was effective against them, and what drew them to the city in the first place.” That’s Jean, pacing over to them. She nods to Mona, and then turns to Ayato. “Oh. You’re… I’ve never seen you around these parts before. Welcome to Mondstadt; I am Jean, Acting Grand Master of the Knights of Favonius. You are?”

“This is Kamisato Ayato,” Mona says. “The Yashiro Commissioner and head of the Kamisato Clan in Inazuma. Those swordsmen are known as Kairagi; he knows much about them, and has fought them before. As such, he would have a firm grasp on strategies to anticipate and counter their attacks.”

“Whoa, I didn’t know we’d have such a distinguished guest!” says Bennett. “I’m Bennett! And that’s Sister Barbara, from the Church.”

Barbara… Bennett… the Acting Grand Master. Realization strikes Ayato within the pool of conversation, as the warmth flows back into his body. “Wait. You were the ones who healed those who came from the Dawn Winery?”

Barbara nods. “It was a blessing from Barbatos that I was free; many of them came with more than just cuts or scratches. Most of the injuries were burns; some mild, others severe. They’re alright now, but they need to recover their stamina.”

“Did you heal Thoma? Where is he? Is he alright?”

“Um… I dunno about names, but are you talking about the big bro with blonde hair, Mr. Ayato? Same as me, a Pyro user?”

“Yes, that’s him!"

“Yeah, we got to him, I think.” Bennett crosses his arms, and then nods after a second. “Yeah, definitely. I looked him over and he seemed pretty okay; someone set up a hut for him and Master Diluc, but he insisted that I heal big bro Thoma first.”

“Thoma is here as well?” Jean takes a seat beside her sister, calling a gentle wind around them to lock the healing in. She sighs, catching a dandelion fuzz as it blows into her hand. “It has been so long since those days… He used to train eagerly with us, particularly Diluc and Kaeya, in our goal to become Knights. He’s a strong, virtuous man; that being said, I believe he’ll be fine.”

“No.” Ayato stands abruptly, despite the protest of his aching limbs. “I must see him. Right now.”

“But Mr. Ayato, your injuries—”

“It can’t be helped,” says Mona, putting her hand up to stop Bennett as Ayato strides away. “He’s come so far to see Thoma. Even the greatest pain couldn’t stop him now.”

“They must have bonded, after Thoma came to Inazuma,” infers Jean. “I sense that same feeling of importance.”

“It’s very personal; I can’t tell you all exactly what happened, without his permission.”

“That’s fine. We can talk more of this later.” She stands, brushing off her pants. “Bennett, come with me. We have more people to heal. Later, we’ll discuss with Master Diluc the details of both further security and widespread reparations to the winery.”

They part ways, Chef Brook coming around to hand out bowls of crab, ham and veggie bake. Ayato passes her and many others on the way to where Thoma now rests; in his hurry, he fails to even notice Diluc sitting by the tent and binding his own injured shoulder, asking for two bowls. 

Warm… I could just melt into the cot.

Thoma turns over in his sleep, eyes soundly shut as his chest rises and falls in a calm staccato. The group healing had done wonders; where his side hurt to even touch an hour ago, now he lies on it and pulls the blanket closer without a second thought.

Oh, wait. That’s not a blanket, is it? No, because it’s too heavy to be one, and a little scratchy too. But it smells divine. Like freshly-chopped firewood, lamp grass and windwheel aster, the potent but light smell of grapes. And it covers Thoma’s shoulders perfectly, as a caterpillar wraps its own cocoon. He shifts a bit, sighing in comfort as his muscles can finally go lax, leaving him in a limp heap on the cot.

See, if he were still in Inazuma, he’d have to face them off because it was part of his job. He’d come home and hide the scratches as much as possible, only taking the time off in the dead of night to bandage his wounds. And there was nothing wrong with that, for the longest time, because he knew that the people—the person— that he did it for deserved his service.

But here in his place of birth, where the breeze gently blows, and he’s allowed to choose his battles? To run, to rest? Sworn no longer to service that rends his heart in twain?

He’d had no idea he’d missed it so much, until he’d wrung all the frustration from his heart.

The cot creaks behind him, and jade green eyes open ever so slightly. He would have turned, murmured soft words of encouragement into rose-red hair and ink black fabric as Diluc settled in and basked in exhaustion with him—

Except rose-red is icy blue, and dark black is pale white. 

You…

The man, who he wished he could make unfamiliar with a snap of his fingers, took his hand. Slender fingers, smooth save for a few calluses, trace his palm. Quickly, he shuts his eyes again as another hand comes up to gently caress his healed face.

And just like that, all the comfort Thoma could have derived from the alone time washed away like a flimsy sandcastle against the merciless waves. He knew without opening his eyes exactly who dared to touch him, in a manner that was both entitled yet regretful, hesitant but desperate.

Kazuha’s words echo in his head; he resists the urge to get up and run, instead staying deathly still, pretending to still be lost in the depths of sleep. Hopefully the sudden tenseness in his body isn't outwardly obvious. But if the other man could hear how strongly Thoma’s heart roared in that moment, he would have been blown away, deafened by the impassioned sound.

Ayato. How dare you follow me?

Chapter Text

Night has fallen over the city; Mona, Ayato, Jean, and Diluc return to the Knights’ headquarters. Thoma, who’s fallen once more into genuine slumber, is taken into the medical care of the Church. The meeting hall they currently gather in, though decorated in architecturally unfamiliar tastes, reminds him of the energy that Tenshukaku exudes.

“Many things have occurred over the course of this day,” Jean says, motioning for everyone to sit. “Firstly, we would like to welcome you to Mondstadt, Commissioner.”

“Thank you,” he replies, taking a seat near the foot of the table.

“How has the city treated you, so far?”

“I’ve been staying in the lodgings of the Grand Goth Hotel, as suggested by Katheryne of the Adventurers’ Guild. I met Mona in that time period, which explains why we showed up to the winery together.”

From across him, Mona pipes up, “We had just finished commissions, and were near Springvale when Connor alerted us of the danger.”

“He is a part of the Knights stationed around the area.” Someone enters the room to pass Jean a thin stack of paper, and she waves them off with a thank you. “The injured have all been brought into the Church’s care; Kaeya watches the Knights, Rosaria and Eula over the winery’s workers, and Barbara over Thoma specifically.”

“What did she say?”

“According to her diagnosis, he will be fine. The events of the day have simply worn him out. A long rest would do him good.”

“From that fight alone?” He rests his chin on one elegantly poised hand. “That’s strange. He’s usually energetic, able to keep up with me and defend against multiple attacks. And even after that, he’d still have enough stamina to finish a few errands around the estate.”

“Mentally, too,” Jean chides, taking a seat near the middle of the table. “One of the sisters commented on his stress levels being particularly high, even in his slumber. I can’t imagine how the fight must have affected his mood. And there is a note on an upset stomach as well; it’s not too severe, but they’ll need to keep watch just in case.”

The very thought of Thoma suffering like that makes Ayato nearly want to cry. Though instead of embarrassing himself like that, he bows his head, averting his gaze. His fingers are clasped together tight in his anxiety. “I… am so sorry.”

“I have something to say.”

That’s Diluc, a few seats opposite Jean. She nods at him, and Ayato looks up again, if only to be polite.

“I offered to let him find refuge in the winery, for their old house isn’t the most stable at the moment. I made it clear that I could support him financially as well, but he said he wanted to earn it by himself.” A soft, endeared sigh. “He’d been gone for so many years. As a good friend to both myself and Kaeya, it was the least I could do. On the second night, I had asked about Inazuma, which he seemed to recount cheerfully.”

His gaze turns to Ayato. “Until he mentioned you.”

“Me?” Ayato places a hand on his chest, as if that could somehow stop it from beating a million miles a minute. “Wh… what did he say?”

Diluc sighs; it’s heavy. “That you’re kind, and courteous. That you’re cunning, and strategic. That you are nothing short of respectable and responsible. He saw you as marvelous. He treasured every single moment spent with you and your younger sister; that is to say, he looked up to you until that kiss. And then he spoke—”

“About the marriage.”

“Yes.”

“Wait.” Jean puts a hand down on the table. “You’re already married, Commissioner, but you still followed Thoma here?”

“I—” As if there’s any getting out of that question. 

“And is it not improper for Master Diluc to divulge this information to us four without your consent?”

“I’ve got a grasp of the situation already, so this is not a new tale to me,” Mona says, raising a hand. “And someone has to lay it all out, eventually.”

“I’m alright,” Ayato adds. “Please, continue.”

Diluc hums, doing so. “He was in tears, recounting his grievance towards the marriage. I did my best to keep him sober; unfortunately, he knows the winery as well as I do, and ended up getting his hands on the dandelion wine. Over the course of the night, he’d drunk an entire bottle. He insisted that he still loved you despite the situation at hand… but that it hurt as well that you hadn’t said a word or even sent someone to, come the day of the ceremony. In his eyes, you seemed unapologetic. It was betrayal. I stayed beside him even as he cried himself to sleep.”

Some time during the spiel, tears started to fall from Ayato’s eyes as well, and he tucks it away in his sleeve. Mona rubs his shoulder in comfort. Jean passes him some tissues.

“Let’s get one thing clear.”

There’s a new edge to his voice that makes Ayato look up, rubbing out the tears. “Yes?”

“I care deeply for Thoma. Listening to him talk about you, who had broken his heart as easily as your sword cleaves through enemies, hurt me too. But I will not force anything on him, not while I am a resident of the city of freedom. Whatever choice he makes, I will stand by.” His tone softens imperceptibly, as he folds his hands together. “The goal is to see Thoma happy. If he is happy, then so am I.”

He clears his throat. “And I too should apologize, for failing to keep him away from the conflict at large. The winery, first and foremost, is supposed to be under my protection. If I had not faltered, then—”

“No,” Ayato manages, shaking his head. “Don’t blame yourself. This is all my doing. If I had been more direct with my feelings, brave enough to forge a path other than what was expected of me, then none of this would have happened.”

“If I may ask,” says Jean, “what made you agree to such an event? What were you afraid of?”

Apparently sick of beating around the bush, Mona summons her astrolabe, flat on the table. It fills the room with a shimmery cold blue light, the Cypressus Custos revealed on its face once more. It spins in a circle at Mona’s manipulation, like gears in a grandfather clock, as the three lean forward: two in interest, one in dread, as watery images of the past ripple over the wooden surface.

“Before Ayato’s father died, the paperwork had already been prepared for an arranged marriage with a noble woman from another clan. Their clans had already established a close bond, and the former Yashiro Commissioner’s words were upheld as law—even by the current one, who holds great respect for him.”

A wave of her hand, now displaying the streets of Inazuma in joyful uproar. “When it was announced to the public, many were ecstatic to witness it. As the eldest child of the Kamisato clan, one of the highest-ranking families of the Tri-Commission, this was an event of extreme importance and significance, especially in Inazuman high society.”

Shift again. Now it shows Ayato in his suit, standing alone, dressed by servants. Thoma is conspicuously missing.

“And that is precisely what scared you, isn’t it?” Mona asks, now addressing Ayato directly. “The pressure. The fear of disappointment, of failure. As the eldest, the duty to exalt the family falls onto your shoulders, first and foremost. So even if it sent fear into your heart, you pushed on, for the sake of the family name.”

A dramatic change, now. The Rubeum Scutum takes the stage, beside the Cypressus Custos instead of replacing it. An image of Thoma, all smiles in their latest family portrait, appears.

“You and Thoma are closer than the woman you’ve married will ever be. He swore his loyalty to you. And you never wanted the marriage to go on, anyway. You were afraid of not doing enough for the family… Thoma was afraid of not being enough for you.”

Shots of Thoma, rapid-fire. Packing his things. Tucking away the letter with Taroumaru. Boarding the Crux.

“And as such, the opportunity slipped away.”

With a lingering touch, the scenes fade. Only the constellations are left. The silence was deafening.

Finally, after a few tense minutes, Jean lays a hand on Ayato’s shoulder. “Monstadt is the city of wind and freedom. Here, your future is yours to write. There will always be consequences; that is inescapable. But you are a man, just as much as you are the Commissioner. So… choose what makes you happy. And whatever that is, stand by it.”

Mona nods, and Ayato wipes his eyes for the last time. The three of them now look to Diluc, whose gloved fingers ripple over the astrolabe. It reflects in his crimson eyes, a bonfire of emotions…

But he looks right into Ayato’s soul, the two connecting in that moment, and he nods firmly. “I believe in you."