Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

To serve the Kamisato Clan, one should maintain an excellent physical condition. That was not in the job description; it was just common sense. Unlike the Kujou and Hiiragi Estates, located at the heart of Inazuma’s two most vibrant cities, the Kamisato Estate was set by a cliffside in the far eastern side of Narukami, surrounded by steep mountains in a zone infested by nobushi and ruin machines, kilometers away from the nearest villages. Getting there was not for the faint of heart.

Which only made the smile on your face as you approached the building more noteworthy. The terribly tight shoes selected specifically for that job interview made you want to cut your feet off and your legs throbbed from the hiking, but at last you had made it. The goal was clear ahead of you, shining under the sunlight like a painting.

You toned down the smile as you got closer to the two samurai standing guard – wouldn’t want to look like a maniac on your first day. Their eyes followed you, but their posture remained relaxed. Like there was no need to waste their energy worrying about an apparently unarmed and Vision-less person. You bowed your head in greeting.

“Good morning, officials. I got wind that the Kamisato Clan was in need of a maid? I came to apply for the job.”

The two samurai exchanged an unfazed look.

“Thoma is the one dealing with that, right?” the samurai on the right asked his partner. Obtaining confirmation, he added, “Follow me, miss. I will take you to him.”

With another bow of gratitude, you walked behind the samurai into the estate.

The courtyard was mostly empty, except for a few servants moving around as they did their chores. The estate had a spacious garden that probably required quite some work to tend to. Its design was simple yet elegant, with a small fountain and shrine in the corner bringing a sense of freshness to the air. But you hardly noticed any of that. Your attention was fixed on the blond man sweeping the floors next to the main door. His outfit was a clear mix of Inazuman and foreign styles, reds and blacks mixing with gold details. A black metal headband with horns adorned his head and a Pyro Vision hung proudly on his belt. You knew immediately that was Thoma. The Mondstadter who climbed up the ladder within the Kamisato Clan and became Inazuma’s most notorious fixer. His reputation preceded him in many different ways. One of them was regarding his alertness.

Despite the apparent concentration with which he carried on the sweeping, Thoma’s eyes had been discreetly following the two of you as soon as you passed through the gates. Once you were close enough, Thoma rested the broom against the wall and waved a hand.

“Hello there! How can I help you today?” His bright smile and overly chirpy tone almost made he seem more like a server at a teashop than the retainer of one of Inazuma’s most important families. You were sure you had not imagined the annoyed groan the samurai let out. Instead of returning the greeting, he only gestured to you and started walking back to the gate. You took the hint.

“Good morning, Master Thoma. It is an honor to meet you,” you began with another bow. The well-rehearsed speech flowed effortlessly from your lips. “My name is Shigurai Hitomi. I would respectfully like to apply to the position of maid within the Yashiro Commission.”

You expected to then be inquired about your origins, your qualifications, your availability to start. You were already taking the recommendation letters out of your inner pocket when you saw the expression on Thoma’s face. It was a mix of surprise and embarrassment.

“Oh by the Archons… I’m so sorry, I thought the news had reached everyone. That position isn’t available anymore.”

You blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

Thoma scratched the back of his neck. “You see, the position was filled just two days ago, when we hired Mitsue.” He gestured to a short brown-haired woman watering the garden a few meters away.

It was as though the ground underneath you had shattered. Two days. You had gotten there as fast as you could and still missed it by two days.

No. That was unacceptable. There must be a way to still salvage the situation.

“Perhaps you need assistance with something else? I can handle a variety of tasks, I-I have worked for other noble families outside of Inazuma. Serving the Kamisato Clan would be an immense honor.” You emphasized the last part, hoping a bit of flattery would work on your favor. Disappointment hit again.

“I’m really sorry, I’m afraid that we don’t have anything else at the moment… I hope you didn’t go through much trouble to get here.” Like he did not know how physically isolated the Kamisato estate was. “If you want, I can try to help you find another job in the city! Oh, are those recommendation letters? They would be a great help. Mind if I have a look?”

You handed out the letters in an automatic gesture. Your mind was still processing that bit of information. The position was not supposed to have been filled.

“Do you live in Inazuma City? I can do some research on available opportunities and find you there.”

Thoma’s offer pulled you back to reality. Things were not going as expected and the last thing you needed was to be indebted to the fixer. You needed time to think and consider your options.

“Thank you very much, Master Thoma, but that will not be necessary. I’ve seen other openings around the city, I am sure I can find something around there.”

“Still, if I hear anything, I’ll be sure to let you know, Miss Hitomi,” the ever so-helpful retainer insisted. “Would you like someone to escort you back?”

“No, please, there is no need. I actually have a friend waiting at the Great Narukami Shrine.”

“Okay then. Sorry again for the trouble, but I hope something good comes your way soon!”

“I’m sure it will.”

There was no other option, after all.

You walked out as quickly as decorum would allow you, hoping no one would notice how strained your smile was.

It was always night at Chinju Forest. It wasn’t that the canopy of the trees was so thick to block out the sunlight. In fact, one could see the sky from many different spots. Rather, it was as though nature itself knew that a place inhabited by mischievous bake-danuki could only thrive under the cover of darkness. It made for a good ambiance. And a good hiding spot.

Once you confirmed you had not been followed and no one else was around, you pulled out the bag you had concealed inside a tree trunk. Recalling your training, you breathed in and out. One. Two. Three. And then-

“Hot diggity fuck!”

The sound of your screams was almost muffled by the crack of the wood when your foot collided against the tree trunk. You immediately held the throbbing foot while jumping on the other, colorful curses soaring through your mind. That had been a poorly planned reaction. So you chose the next targets better, snapping tree branches and stabbing the trunks with a dagger hidden in your sleeve.

Everyone knew that job was going to be complex. That it would take months. That you no longer had sufficiently reliable connections in Inazuma, due to the country’s years of isolation. Baptiste had stressed that several times. Which was why you had to resort to something he usually loathed: depending on the clients’ assistance to carry out the infiltration. Of course that was a recipe for disaster.

You had crafted the perfect cover story. Sylvain had even found records of an Inazuman girl who had died on the crossing to Fontaine many years ago and would have been about your age, so that you could use her name and identity. Elke had had no trouble producing the identity and travel documents or falsifying the recommendation letters. Together with Karina, you had prepared an extensive report on significant political figures in Inazuma and other actors of interest – a surprisingly thorough job considering the that Inazuma had just left a significant period of isolation. Even the twins had done their part, playing around the neighborhoods most heavily populated with the Inazuman diaspora in Fontaine City and relaying back what they had heard. Such an enormous effort in such a short period of time. All the clients had to do was to ensure that the Kamisatos would be looking to hire someone for their housekeeping staff by the time you arrived.

While the details of that part of the plan had not been shared with you, you knew that it was supposed to be solid. Baptiste himself reviewed them. According to him, getting into the Kamisato Estate was going to be the easy part.

And yet. You had never had a job go south so quickly.

“Archons-fucking-damn it!”

You needed to think. To reorganize everything, come up with a new plan. You had done that before – on a smaller scale, against minor setbacks, but still. You had watched Baptiste do that so many times before. Even Sylvain. It could not be that hard. You would do it. As soon as you finished beating up that shrubbery.

When you finally stopped taking your anger out on the plant life, a thin layer of sweat was coating your forehead. The disheveled bush looked like it was begging for mercy and you pretended it was the Kamisato’s chief retainer’s face. Sorry for your trouble – oh, if he only knew how much trouble he had caused, you would make him feel sorry. Perhaps a small payback when the job was done. Nothing too flashy; the clients had insisted on utmost secrecy after all.

“Well, well, well… Guess it is my lucky day.”

You winced. Maybe throwing a tantrum in the woods had not been very secretive of you. Nobushi usually kept away from Chinju Forest, but they had many camps nearby. This one must have heard your screams and decided to see if you had anything of value. Elke would have scolded you for your carelessness.

You turned around with your hands up. There was no point in hiding the dagger, the man had already seen it. Moreover, his long katana gave him the advantage in direct combat. Though a takuhatsugasa obscured most of his face, you could see a gleam in his eyes. You bit your lip, whimpering.

“Please. I have nothing of value. Please, just leave me alone.”

The man laughed and you averted your gaze. “I will be the judge of that. Now drop the weapon.” You released the dagger, which fell on the grass with a soft thud. “Good girl. Now stay put.”

Confident that a lone and now unarmed woman was no danger to him, the nobushi relaxed the grip on his sword and started bending down to pick up the dagger. He must have been new to this vagrant business. Too quick to forget that any self-respecting person always carried two daggers.

A flash of silver came out of your left sleeve and you slashed across the side of the nobushi’s torso. He gasped in surprise, trying to regain his balance, but you were already swiping a leg to trip him. He had barely landed on the ground when you kicked his sword away and stabbed the dagger deeper into the cut you had made. You managed to hit the artery you had intended to and blood began to spurt faster, drenching the grass.

You stomped the nobushi’s sword-wielding arm, causing him to cry out. You hoped those shoes were bring him as much pain as they had to you. With a swift movement, you brought the dagger up against the man’s neck. Even though he was already finding it hard to breathe, you would not lower your guard – just look at where that had gotten him.

“P-please, I didn’t mean any harm,” the man stuttered. “I will leave you alone. I’ll even give you the money have!”

You rolled your eyes. So you had attracted an amateur. You sighed.

“I really wish I could, pal. But my job is complicated enough as it is, and now you’ve seen me.”

You hated when these kinds of situations arose. But the work must be done, and it must be done perfectly. In a world where information is currency, reputation is everything. So Baptiste had always told you. “Whatever happens, ma puce, leave no loose ends.”

The nobushi made a strangled sound as the dagger slashed across his neck. You kept holding him in place until you were sure he breathed no more. One could never be too careful in that line of business.

Now. Back to planning an infiltration.

Chapter Text

The rhythmic tap of heels against wood grew louder by the minute, muffling the ticks of the grandfather clock placed against the wall. Those with a good ear and some taste could have recognized the beat of the Sniping Snippets’ new award-winning song in the tapping. Unfortunately, aside from the one producing the sound, no such person was in the room.

“[Y/N], stop it. That’s annoying.”

You puffed your cheeks in irritation but controlled your dangling legs. That chair was too tall and uncomfortable, and Baptiste knew it. That was why he was taking so long reading through those reports as if there were something actually interesting there. Boredom was part of your punishment.

You sagged on the chair and resorted to playing with the air inside your mouth by deflating one cheek and inflating another. Your eyes eventually drifted to the ceiling. The light peach-colored paint was starting to peel off, much to your delight. You had never liked that color, though you had not had the guts to say it out loud.

The sound of a cough made you straighten up on the chair and glance at Baptiste. He tapped the papers on his desk so all the leaves were in a neat pile and set them aside. He then put all of his pencils and pens back on their correct places, making sure all of them stood at the same height. His movements were slow and meticulous. Only after he was done putting away all the utensils did his eyes move to you.

You sat silently under his icy blue gaze for a few minutes. That was part of the punishment too. A test of patience and discipline, he called. Even though you had known him for far too long to be intimidated, you could never overcome the cold sensation that spread through your limbs when he stared at you like that.

It went away as soon as he started talking.

“I thought I had told you to keep him close to you during your rounds at the harbor.” His voice was light, clear. It could pierce through any noise. And it delivered the ‘I’m not angry, just disappointed’ tone masterfully.

You shifted in the chair and crossed your arms with a scowl. You did not need context to know that ‘him’ referred to the gangly youth standing outside the office, probably snickering at the thought that you were in trouble. But you were not. You would show him.

“I tried to! He was too slow,” you whined. Baptiste sighed and ran a hand through his scarce blond hair.

“Which is why I paired him up with you, ma puce. So you could teach him to be quicker. Shouldn’t he learn from the best?”

“I know that,” you countered, trying not to show how proud the praise made you. “But he’s just not cut out for it. It’s not like we need someone new anyway.”

At this, Baptiste quirked his eyebrows with an amused stare. “Oh, you are the one running this business then. You make the decisions here.”

“No, but-”

“No,” he repeated, the sudden harsh tone causing you to flinch. His voice then softened. “We are expanding. You may not see it now, but soon you alone won’t be enough to be at all the places we need to keep an eye on. That is why I got him to help you. You can think of him as your intern of sorts.”

You tilted your head. “What is an intern?”

“It’s like a puppy that follows you around and does what you ask of them. Like you are to me.”

Intern. You liked that word. Sounded professional. Better than minion, underling, or henchperson, which were some of the most common nouns you had heard from the people with whom Baptiste did business.

“Can I count on you to show him the ropes properly this time?”

You bit back a sigh. “Yeah.”

“Good.” Baptiste rose from his chair and stepped towards you. The Electro Vision on his belt clinked as he walked. He positioned himself behind the chair and you Naoko a gentle pat on the head. “You know you have an amazing talent, ma puce. You contribute enormously to this organization.”

Your breath hitched as his grip suddenly got tighter. You could feel Baptiste’s nails digging into your head.

“Just remember that I have no use for someone who cannot obey orders. And it would be a shame to let you go.”

You nodded, and Baptiste retracted his hand.

“We will be having onion soup for dinner. Take Sylvain to the market with you.”

You grimaced at the news. You hated onion soup. Still, the only thing you could do was to pout and take your leave.

Sylvain accosted your as soon as you stepped out of the room.

“What did he say? What is going to happen?”

You put a hand to his chest and pushed him back, lifting your head up to glare at the boy. Two years older and three heads taller than you. The nerve.

“You gotta pick up the pace. You will be sticking with me for the next weeks until you can do it right. Now follow me, we’re going out.” Turning your back to Sylvain, you sighed and spoke in the tone you had heard Baptiste use many times when talking about unreliable business partners. "Oh, it's so hard to find good interns nowadays.”

“Intern?” Sylvain asked in confusion. You did not deign to answer.

Your list of priorities was short and objective. First, finding a place to sleep. Your clothes – and your mood – would not last long camping in the woods for an indefinite period of time. The following morning, after washing the stains of blood from your clothes, you made your way to Konda Village, where you found an elderly couple willing to loan you a spare room for a few weeks. Apparently, after deserting the Shogun’s Army and living off as a treasure hunter for a while, their son had recently decided to go and try his fortune in Ritou. Though his father wagered that he would be back by the end of the month with his tail between his legs, you did not intend to stay for that long.

Your cover story remained essentially the same. Shigurai Hitomi had moved to Fontaine at an early age and grown up there with her parents, both of them only children. For many years, she had worked as a maid for two noble Fontainian families. Her father passed of natural causes when she was a teenager. In this new version, though, her mother still lived – they had always longed to return to Inazuma and the repeal of the Sakoku Decree had given them the push they needed. Due to her mother’s somewhat debilitated health, Hitomi went to Inazuma first to secure a job and provide for them. Once that was settled, Hitomi would send enough mora to her mother for a ticket to Inazuma. The elderly loved a good story about diligent children looking after their parents.

“Oh, so many expats have been returning these days, it’s been really hard on those who no longer have family in Inazuma,” the old lady, Saimon Eri, lamented while she served you a cup of tea. “But do not worry, dear. I am sure you will find something. If I hear anything, I will let you know as well.”

“That is very kind of you, Ma’am. Thank you. I-I’ve been thinking about where to start,” you began, conveying some of the nervousness expected of a person in your purported situation. “I guess maybe trying to get a place as a servant in one of the Commissions?”

“Now that would be wonderful! But I’m afraid that might be a little difficult. The major clans are very selective as to whom they hire. For someone who essentially grew up as an outlander, that might be tricky.”

“Are they really that strict?” You sighed in disappointment. “Guess they only hire people from the city with good connections, huh?”

“Well, not necessarily. Actually, one of the girls in the village has just been hired as a maid for the Kamisato Clan!”

You almost choked on your tea. Thankfully, your coughing fit prevented you from smiling at this new piece of information. “Oh, really?”

“Yes, yes,” Eri nodded enthusiastically. “Kenshin’s girl. She’s always been so diligent!”

“So unlike Jirou…” her husband, Saimon Katsumi, groaned. You did not need to be very perceptive to notice there were some unresolved tensions between father and son. You would love to pry some other time. One never knew what kind of information might prove useful during these kinds of jobs, especially when improvisation was required.

“Well, Jirou grew ill-accustomed to always having things work out his way.” To you, she clarified, “He has such good luck, we used to call him our little koi as a child.”

“It has nothing to do with luck! We’ve always covered for him too much! Even now!”

“Stop being dramatic, Katsumi. It’s bad for your wrinkles.”

“So… you don’t think it was good luck that the other girl got the job in the Commission?” You asked, trying to sound causal as you steered the conversation back to the part that interested you.

“Absolutely not, Kenshin’s family has wretched luck. Always getting the bad fortune slips at the shrine. Heh, even Kenshin used to say it was a miracle that his brother’s boat did not sink at the harbor.”

“Is he a fisherman?”

“No, dear. He left Inazuma decades ago. Went to sell his ware in Sumeru and never came back. Everyone thought he would, now with the recent changes, but what do you know? Maybe he’s gotten used to the life there. Still, our Jirou would never need to leave Inazuma to make something of himself…”

You let Eri trail on about her son, nodding politely and keeping your face neutral when Katsumi pipped in to make a snide remark. You made sure to make a few comments now and then about Eri’s stories and even inquired about other job prospects nearby. After the unexpected troubles of the previous day, maintaining your cover would require an extra amount of caution.

Once you had settled in the Saimon couple’s house, you felt ready to move to your number two priority: getting rid of Mitsue. You could not wait for another spot within the Kamisato Estate to open, so you would have to get the original one vacant again. While murder was the fastest way, it might also bring unwanted suspicion towards you. You would have to think of something else.

The first step was always information-gathering. And though Inazumans were generally more reserved than the other countries you had worked in, all small villages throughout Teyvat had one thing in common: they loved to gossip.

In a few days, you had been able to confirm that Mitsue was indeed “Kenshin’s daughter”; that she was only a couple of years younger than you; that her parents were farmers and had gone through a difficult time during the war; that for some years they had relied on the help of the nearby community to make ends meet; that Mitsue’s new job at the Kamisato household was seen as a significant step towards the improvement of their finances; that Mitsue’s younger brother, a mischievous child around twelve years old, had already started doing small jobs at the city, like carrying messages; that her brother liked to pretend he could juggle unripe lavender melons (you had the pleasure of witnessing the kid drop a melon on a neighbor’s head and had to run away to muffle your laughter); that Kenshin’s older brother, Yamato, had left for Sumeru twenty years before to work as a merchant; that he sometimes sent letters and some Mora, but that was getting rarer and rarer; that, as far as anyone knew, he hadn’t gotten married or had children (though there were rumors about a relationship with a Liyuean man whom most of the villagers agreed was “too young for him” – even if they had never seen the guy); that Mitsue seemed to be, by all standards, a “good girl” who always listened to her parents.

You stored all of that information and more in a safe compartment in your mind. Elke would have scolded you for not taking notes, but you had never needed that. That was what had made you so good at these kinds of operations in the first place.

The problem was how to work that into a useful course of action that would enable you to infiltrate the Kamisato household. That had always been Baptiste’s job. You did not have a way to reach him just yet, not until your contact arrived in Inazuma. Besides, a regular letter to Fontaine would take too long. You would have to scheme this out on your own. It should not be too hard.

“Big sis… are you alright?” the village chief’s grandson, Takeru, asked shyly. He and a group of three other kids stared at you with wide eyes.

You turned your neck to look at them, still keeping your forehead leaned against the wooden pole you had been knocking your forehead on for the past ten minutes. After the first three, you could hardly feel it anymore.

“Yeah, absolutely. This is just to get the blood flowing. It’s good for the brain. You should try it some time.”

“Oh… okay.”

Somewhat hesitantly, Takeru went to the other side of the pole and pressed his forehead against the wood. He then seemed to decide that, if he was going to take advice from the strange lady, he might as well commit to it, and started rhythmically knocking his head. The other kids exchanged a look, shrugged, and followed suit on a nearby fence.

Bringing your hands up to scratch your cheeks, you grunted. Now you were a corruptive influence for Inazuman children. Great. You had expected to hold off on that for at least a month. But then again, nothing in that Archon-damned country had ever gone your way, why expect it would be different now?

For the past three days you had been stuck in Konda Village, trying to come up with a useful way to apply the information you had gathered on Mitsue. Three days to admit that coming up with an infiltration scheme was actually a very complicated matter to which you should have paid more attention throughout the years. You could hear Sylvain, an ocean away, just laughing at you.

The situation was becoming unsustainable. While you still had a considerable amount of the Mora Baptiste had handed you when you left, maintaining your cover meant that you had to make it look like you were at least trying to get a job. You had been going around the village doing just that and even had gotten paid for some smaller tasks, though nothing that required long-term commitment. Still, if you were going to keep the ruse for long – which was becoming infuriatingly more likely – you would eventually need to find an actual source of income.

Before even a minute had gone by, one of the girls spoke up. “This is dumb, we should just play temari.”

The other kids stopped damaging their heads and nodded in agreement.

“Wanna come, big sis?”

“You are going to love temari! I used to play it all the time when I was your age.”

“But I want to play dauphin-dauphine!”

“Temari is much more fun. Just give it a chance!”

“Big sis?”

You blinked. The other kids had gone off ahead, but Takeru still waited for an answer. You forced a smile.

“Some other time, kiddo. Have fun.”

As you watched Takeru run to catch up with the other children, you found yourself pinching the bridge of your nose with a sigh. You could remember the words perfectly, but not the voice. Better to not have remembered at all.

Your feet dragged across the mud as you made your way back to the Saimons’ house. You would sit on bed and mentally review everything you had discovered until inspiration struck. It had to, eventually. Was that not how great plans came to be? A sudden flash of genius?

“Hitomi! Thank the Archons you’ve arrived,” Eri greeted as you stepped inside. “Any luck today?”

“Unfortunately not, Mrs. Saimon,” you replied, and the frustration in your voice was not fake. “I’ll admit I’ve underestimated the difficulties of this.”

“Well, you can never give up. Your family is counting on you. But since you seem to be free today, could you make a quick run to Inazuma City and get me two packages of dried seagrass? I’ll give you the money. Katsumi was supposed to do that this morning, but he forgot. And who knows, maybe you’ll find more interesting job opportunities in the city!”

“Yes, of course,” you nodded, forcing another light smile.

“It’s almost sundown, so you’d better get going.”

You had known that sooner or later you would have to go to Inazuma City, but the prospect was still unpleasant. No matter. It would be like ripping off a bandage.

The entire way, you found yourself preventively controlling your breath. Your memories of Inazuma City were hazy - the moments you had spent there had been few, but intense. The daunting enormity of the Tenshukaku, the menacing way the city’s buildings seemed to lean forward to engulf you. The angry glares people wore. A door slammed against Oton's face. These and other scenes flashed before your eyes. In them, it always seemed to be cloudy and the purple tones permeating the city increased the feeling of mystery and danger. Even when the pictures were nothing more than blurs, the sensations were still vivid. Fear. Cold. Pain. Fear. Pain. Fear. Anger. Fear. Anger. Anger. Anger.

It took a sudden wave of force for you to get back to the ground. More specifically, crashing against a pile of boxes that turned a corner in front of you. In an inelegant attempt to recover your footing, you ended up trying to grab one of the boxes, causing you to fall face first on the ground and the box to pour its contents over you.

“Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh by the Shogun- Are you alright?”

You did not answer immediately. Your breath was heavy as you collected your thoughts. The dirt below your nose was comfortably chilly given the day’s heat. There was not a cloud in the sky. The sakura trees nearby where in full bloom and whatever had fallen on top of your had not been too heavy and was fortunately not wet. The stranger fussing over you was staring in concern, not disgust.

“I’m so, so sorry. I couldn’t see anything with those boxes in front of me. I thought it would be fine if I just kept screaming ‘out of my way, out of my way’ but clearly that was a poor idea. It’s just been so much work with all the extra requests from the Yashiro Commission- gah, not that I’m complaining. Business is booming! But that’s beside the point. I’m so sorry. Are you hurt?”

You clenched your fists to control your trembling hands and exhaled. You slowly opened your hands and pushed yourself off the ground. The woman in front of you had blonde hair tied in a messy ponytail and sparkly golden eyes. Actually, everything about that woman was sparkly: her bright-colored clothes in tones of orange and red, different tattoos running from her arm to her chest in those same tones, a golden butterfly necklace… and even a shiny Pyro Vision hanging from her hip. The look seemed even more fitting when you saw what had fallen on top of you.

“Fireworks?”

“Oh yes, yes, sorry about that!” the woman cried, immediately starting to take the fireworks off you. “Good thing they weren’t lit, huh? Hehe, just kidding, I would never run around with them lit up like that. Can you imagine? That would be a disaster. Here, let me help you up.”

You took the hand the woman had offered and pulled yourself up. The woman spoke so fast and loudly that you were still processing everything that she had said. Two words rung nonstop in your mind: Yashiro Commission.

“Nothing broken? No scratches?”

“Not at all, I’m all fine.” You put on your most relaxed smile. “Thanks for the concern.”

A sigh of relief. “Thank the Archons! That’s what I get for being such a klutz. Lesson learned. I’m Yoimiya by the way! I don’t think I’ve seen you around before?”

You shook your head. “Certainly not. I’ve just moved here, this is my first time in Inazuma City.”

“Wow… that wasn’t a very good first impression of the city, huh? So sorry about that! Here, let me make it up to you. What kind of fireworks do you like?”

You frowned, unsure whether you had understood the question.

“Uh… colorful ones, I guess? But no, please don’t bother.”

Yoimiya put her hand on her chin and mused for a second. An idea must have popped into her head, because suddenly she was grinning – Archons, even her smile is sparkly – and pulling you by the arm.

“Come, I’m going to show you something!”

“Wait- I can’t- Your boxes!”

“Oops, you’re right! Would you help me by picking one up? My shop is just over there.”

As much as you loathed the idea of offering free labor, you could not pass an opportunity to get in contact with someone who had ties with the Yashiro Commission, whatever they may be. At this point, you were desperate for anything to take you out of your current inertia. So you picked up the fallen fireworks, grabbed the box, and followed Yoimiya to a house next to the city’s main entrance. The board in front of it read “Naganohara Fireworks”. An old man stood by the door and waved when he saw you arriving.

“Yoimiya! Have you gotten the supplies?”

The man’s tone was so loud that you winced. You immediately knew that he and Yoimiya must be related.

“Hey dad!” Yoimiya greeted even louder. “Yes, everything’s here!” She turned to you. “Dad, this is- uh, I don’t think I got your name.”

“Hitomi. Pleased to meet you.”

“This is Hitomi!”

“What?”

“HI-TO-MI!” To you, Yoimiya said, in a thankfully lower voice. “My dad has a bit of a hearing problem. Sometimes I need to yell for him to hear me.”

That explained a lot.

Yoimiya opened a smaller box that was lying next to the door and started looking for something. In the meantime, her father turned to you.

“Nice to meet you, Hitomi! Are you friends with Yoimiya?”

Your daughter almost maimed me and I’m here seeking compensation, you almost said, but thought better. Sarcasm was the common tongue in Fontaine, but Inazumans were more particular about it.

“We’ve just met.”

“What?”

“We’re going out, dad! Byeeeee!”

Without waiting for an answer, Yoimiya grabbed you by the arm and rushed with you to the outskirts of town.

“What- where are we going?”

“Just over there! Can’t light up fireworks inside the city, after all. Well. I can, but I don’t want to get another fine from the Tenryou Commission.”

“You’re lighting up fireworks now?”

The only answer to your confusion was another of Yoimiya’s bright grins. You were starting to wonder if the information you expected to get was worth the trouble that girl was already bringing you.

You stopped barely a kilometer outside of the city, in the open of the Byakko Plain. It was not yet dark, but the sun was setting. Yoimiya handed you a green firework shell, keeping a blue and a yellow one to herself.

“The best thing would be to wait until it’s darker, but I gotta finish sorting out some deliveries and I don’t know if you can stay until later, so this will do fine.”

Before Yoimiya could go on, you seized the opportunity. “You mentioned you’ve been handling requests from the Yashiro Commission, right? Do you get to work with them often?”

“Of course, all the time! Not to brag, but Naganohara Fireworks is the best fireworks manufacturer in the country. Whenever they need pyrotechnics for a festival, we come into the picture.”

“That’s amazing, you must be very talented to catch the Commissions’ eye.” Yoimiya giggled sheepishly at the compliment, but you could see the pride that glistened in her eyes.

“Even though fireworks only last for a brief moment, the joy and the memories that come with them can last forever. Every firework symbolizes a story. Because of that, we always put our utmost care in making fireworks that will make these stories as special as possible!”

For the first time since coming to Inazuma, you felt a sincere smile tugging at your lips. As much as you hoped Yoimiya would stop rambling and you could somehow get back to discussing the Yashiro Commission, it felt nice to hear someone talking about their passions with such vigor. You supposed it made sense that Yoimiya had gotten a Vision.

“This is all very last minute and I couldn’t make you a personalized set of fireworks, but I simply can’t let your first day in Inazuma City go by without a special welcome.”

“I thought almost getting crushed by pyrotechnic devices had been special enough,” you said before you could catch yourself. To your relief, Yoimiya found your quip terribly funny.

“That is special, it doesn’t happen to everyone! But I think you’ll like this one better. Now, hold it like this…”

Yoimiya adjusted the firework shell in your hand. You locked eyes for a moment and a mischievous sparkle crossed Yoimiya’s expression. With a snap of her fingers, Yoimiya created a small flame and lit up the firework.

You started when the shell went up, almost losing your footing. You had never seen a firework so close; in Fontaine, they were usually set off inside the grounds of the Palace of Justice and the view from the rest of the city was impaired by the tall towers around it.

This time, there was nothing to hide the firework from view as it flew up high in the sky, leaving a trail of yellow sparkles behind. Without warning, it popped and a shower of pink lights came out, forming the outline of a sakura blossom. It looked like a flower made from the stars themselves.

Just as the sakura’s lights were starting to fall and fade away, two more explosions lit up the sky. A red koi fish that looked like it was leaping out of the water and a yellow camellia.

Your breath hitched. The few fireworks you had managed to see before had been little more than bright dots that came and went. Pretty, but fickle. Yoimiya’s looked like they were alive.

When the last light dissipated, you noticed that Yoimiya was staring at you with an expectant smile.

“Welcome to Inazuma City! I hope with that you can have a good memory from your first day here!”

You chuckled, looking back to the sky. “Thanks, Yoimiya.”

It was a strange, but pleasant surprise. Now you indeed had one good memory in Inazuma City. Who would have thought.

“Ugh, look at the time! Gotta go back to the shop or else my dad might just disown me!”

You were about to roll your eyes at the woman’s dramatics when a thought invaded your mind. Inspiration struck. You suddenly knew exactly what to do about Mitsue.

Ten days after your encounter with Yoimiya, a letter was delivered to Kenshin’s doorstep with unfortunate news:

Dear Mr. Hitori Kenshin,

I hope this letter finds you and your family in good health.

My name is Hazid Asghar and I am a legal advisor for the Akademyia in Port Ormos, Sumeru. It is with great regret that I write to inform you of the passing of your brother, Hitori Yamato. A stampede of Shaggy Sumpter Beasts broke out near the port the previous week and trampled over five passersby. Your brother was among them and sadly he did not resist the injuries.

I am also to inform you of the will your brother left in case of his untimely death. Under this document, which I drafted myself seven months ago, all of Mr. Yamato’s property, including moveable and immoveable goods, investments, and bank deposits, in the amount of 543,792,316 Mora – still subject to tax deduction –, shall go to your daughter, Miss Hitori Mitsue, as he had dubbed her the most diligent member of the family.

According to Akademyia regulations, should Miss Mitsue wish to claim the property, she must present herself to my office in Port Ormos within three weeks. You will find attached to this letter a sum of Mora sufficient for purchasing passage on a ship from Inazuma to Sumeru, which was deduced from your brother’s estate.

I wish you and your family comfort and peace in these trying times.

Most respectfully,

Hazid Asghar

Sumerian Bar Association No. 897/44

“That bastard!” You could hear Kenshin cry out across the village, his voice choking with tears. “That beautiful bastard! How dare he die on me like this! Oh, thank the Electro Archon that at least he remembered Mitsue!”

The rest of the family echoed the confusing tones of sorrow and excitement. Apparently, death was less sad when someone left an inheritance.

It had taken a while for you to gather the last remains of information necessary for your plan to work and then to forge a convincing letter. The quality of the forgery was not as good as Elke’s, but you were still satisfied with your work. You were not attempting to deceive a Shogunate official, after all; the quality could be a little lower. The little gift in Mora had been the final push to make it more convincing.

Unfortunately, this show of goodwill also represented most of the Mora left on your purse. You were betting strongly on that plan.

“Someone go fetch Mitsue immediately! We need to buy the ticket for Sumeru!”

Hearing that, you walked away from the porch you had been carelessly sweeping for the past minutes, whistling one of your favorite rock ballads. Now all you had to do was wait.

Forging a letter and listening to village gossip had not been all that you had been doing the past ten days. You had taken the opportunity to familiarize yourself with Inazuma City, keeping the same cover story you had used with the Saimon couple.

It continued to surprise you how different the city was from what you remembered. Brighter, louder, more smiles. You wondered how much of that could be attributed to your faulty childhood memories and how much the Land of Eternity had truly changed. A couple of things were exactly as you remembered, though: the pink and violet hues that seemed to soak the very air of the city, and the packs of street dogs and cats, which you only watched from afar.

You memorized every street and alley, every shop and street merchant. The key to your task was balance. You had to become sufficiently acquainted with the locals so they would not see your presence as strange or unwelcome, but avoid calling enough attention to be considered suspicious. It was a slow process, one that included small talk, saccharine smiles, and feigning interest for pointless topics such as lacquerware. The rewards were there, however, as you learned about the general mood after the repeal of the Vision Hunt and Sakoku Decrees, the economic situation of the country, and people’s views on the stability of the Tri-Commission.

The locals were more forthcoming in filling you in on the life in Inazuma than you had expected. It was not until you spoke to the owner of Netsuke no Gen Crafts – a souvenir shop with a weirdly specific assortment of furniture – that you understood why.

In response to your thanks for letting you know which Tenryou officials were more likely to harass outlanders over documentation, the man replied, “Why, don’t mention it, miss! After all, we gotta do our best to help you settle, right?”

You were not quick enough to conceal the frown that immediately came to your face. Why would he, or anyone, be interested in how you were settling?

Seeing the confusion on your expression, the vendor clarified, “You know, a lot of outlanders have been coming in recently, opening new businesses, buying property... If we don’t stick up for the Inazumans that are coming home, you will be left without anything!”

For a couple of seconds, you could only stare at the man, speechless. So that was how they saw you. A returnee, someone who sought to reconnect with the motherland. Now that the country had reopened its borders, people from other nations were flocking in like never before, eager to explore Inazuma’s resources after years of isolation. And even before the Sakoku Decree, Inazumans in general had never taken kindly to outlanders. The country’s geographical distance from the other nations of Teyvat had fomented a cultural homogeneity that Inazumans prided themselves over. As much as the Inazuman diaspora would also inevitably bring new customs from other countries, they at least could be convinced to re-assimilate more easily. As long as they did not completely desert their Inazuman origins, they were the lesser of two evils.

You bit back a laugh at the irony of it all. If only the Sakoku Decree had been around sixteen years earlier. Maybe then your typical Inazuman appearance would have made a difference.

Surprisingly, your greatest source of information had been Yoimiya. You had been seeing each other frequently ever since that first bump. The woman was intent on making a new friend in Hitomi and needed little incentive to talk. Just a push in the right direction.

Most of what she had told you was common knowledge. How the Yashiro Commission took their role of organizing cultural activities in Inazuma very seriously. How enraptured every soul in the country was with Kamisato Ayaka, the Shirasagi Himegimi. One interesting detail popped up one day, though: how Yoimiya had helped the Yashiro Commission in the production counterfeit Visions to fool the Tenryou Commission.

“Sounds like a big risk for the Yashiro Commission to take on by itself,” you remarked, eyes wide in apparent concern. “Didn’t anyone else help?”

“Well, of course! There was me, my dad, Master Masakatsu…”

“No, I mean, someone with more resources.” Yoimiya stared at you, confused. You bit back an impatient sigh. “I don’t know, the Resistance?”

"Oh, those guys back in Watatsumi Island? I don’t think so. I mean, I’ve never seen them around. And don’t they hate the Tri-Commission?”

“I don’t know. Do they?”

“Yeah! They want to secede from Inazuma and become an independent country. I think the Almighty Shogun killed their god or something… But that was ages ago. Who knows what they are up to now.”

Yoimiya’s tone seemed sincere enough. Besides, it had been a long shot to suppose that someone like her, detached from the inner circle of Inazuman politics, would know anything about relations between the Yashiro Commission and Watatsumi. So you deftly stirred the conversation into another direction.

“I keep seeing the doushin going to that restaurant. Is it really popular?”

“Uyuu Restaurant? Oh yeah! It’s pretty fancy, but I’ve heard that the food is totally worth it. Still, I prefer some easier to make kinds of dishes, you know? Oh, I’ve got this special recipe for tricolor dango-” 

“So I bet it is a favorite among Tri-Commission folk?” you asked seemingly absent-mindedly. Yoimiya barely seemed to notice the interruption.

“I wouldn’t go as far as saying that. It’s mostly some higher-ranking Tenryou officials. But if you really want good food, you have to try Kimani Restaurant. There was this time when my dad forgot his wallet-”

“There was another restaurant around here too, right?” You hoped you were successfully keeping the frustration out of your voice. Extracting information from Yoimiya required a kind of patience that you were already running short of, given all the setbacks since arriving in Inazuma.

“I guess you’re talking about Komore Teahouse? Now that’s a very exclusive place. The hostess, Kozue? She is super scary and she rarely ever lets anyone in. I tried once, just to give Taroumarou some treats, and she told me to scram! Thank the Archons Thoma was around to butter her up or I would have gone through all that trouble for nothing.”

Now you were getting somewhere. You did not know this Taroumarou Yoimiya had mentioned, but you did not want the conversation to get sidetracked. So you opted to feign ignorance on another matter. “Who is Thoma?”

“He’s the housekeeper of the Kamisato Clan. Such a nice guy! He’s always helping everyone out. I’ll introduce you someday. You are going to love him.”

Always helping, huh? That was as innocent a description of a fixer as you had ever heard.

“Does he usually come to the city?”

“All the time. Though it’s been a while since I’ve last seen him… But he’s always running around doing errands for the Kamisatos. You know, groceries, buying things for upcoming festivals, getting some special delivery… And he always stops by Komore Teahouse to see Taroumarou. Lucky him! Sometimes Miss Kamisato also comes around – she’s really sweet! I make sure to give her some of her favorite fireworks batches every time.”

Yoimiya then went on to describe some of the new fireworks designs she had been working on for recent orders. You reserved a quarter of your mind to the conversation while the rest systematized what you had gathered.

Whereas that information was not groundbreaking, it did give you wider array of opportunities by arranging supposedly random run-ins with the Yashiro Commission staff, should the need arise. With the Mitsue matter soon to be resolved, you expected the Commission to announce another job opening. But if, before that, you managed to cross Thoma on the street and he told you about the job on the spot, all the better. You might take some time to figure out who this Taroumarou was before then; Yoimiya had mentioned him twice, perhaps it was someone close to the Kamisatos.

“Sorry to cut you off, Yoimiya, but if I don’t get these cabbages to Mrs. Saimon before nightfall, it will be my head on a platter.”

“No problem! I also have so many fireworks to finish wrapping for today… See you some other time, Hitomi!”

You sauntered back to Konda Village, chin lifted up high.

Mitsue arrived early in the morning following the letter. Your gaze was fixed on the young woman dragging her feet across the street with a consternated countenance, as were all the villagers’. It was not every day that someone from their little entourage became an overseas heiress.

The family’s reception was a mix of tears of sorrow and joy. However, they had no intention of putting on a show on the street for all the neighbors to see, and quickly went inside the house. The villagers promptly turned to go about with their daily business, surreptitiously keeping their ears perked up for any developments. There was even talk of throwing Mitsue a farewell party.

You did not have to pretend you were oblivious to the whole thing. Eri and Katsumi had decided to stand right beside you on the porch as you swept – possibly the cleanest porch in Konda Village by then – and speculate about the Hitori family’s future.

“I am telling you, Katsumi! That family has never had any luck. And suddenly they get an enormous inheritance? Something is not right. If Mitsue gets on that ship, it’s going to sink or something like that.”

“Are you crazy? Stop saying those things! It’s like you want misfortune to fall upon them!”

Eri shrugged. “I’m just stating a fact. Don’t come complain to me later.”

“Hitomi, help me put some sense into this madwoman.”

You chuckled absent-mindedly. “Well, I don’t know. Having a turn of luck like that sounds exciting, no?”

“That’s how all the cautionary tales for children start,” Eri replied sternly.

You zoned out of the couple’s bickering, focusing on sorting out your new list of priorities. After Mitsue left, you would probably have to wait a few days for the Yashiro Commission to announce a new vacancy. Thoma might remember you from before. After all, he had taken the recommendation letters – the ones Elke had worked incessantly to prepare. And once you were inside the Kamisato household, then the real work would finally begin. You almost giggled in excitement. Hopefully this would all be sorted out before Baptiste sent your contact over.

You were considering taking your sweeping elsewhere, lest someone notice how long you had been standing in place, when the Hitoris’ front door burst open and Mitsue ran out. Though it was only for a moment, you could see the girl’s face was red. She did not look like what one would expect of someone who had just received a sizeable inheritance.

Your face fell before you could catch yourself, but that was not a problem. No one was paying attention to you. In a flash, all of the neighbors had already surrounded Kenshin, who was leaning against the doorframe with a pained expression.

“She says she can’t leave the stable job she has just gotten with the Kamisatos… We told her that the inheritance would be more than she could make in five years working for them! She doesn’t understand… She went to see Guuji Yae and pray for guidance.”

Crack.

The villagers’ eyes turned to you, who stared baffled at the two pieces of the broomstick in your hands. You giggled sheepishly, scratching the back of your head, and threw the now broken broom on a nearby bush. Luckily for you, Kenshin’s news were much more interesting than whatever was going on with the newcomer and the neighbors quickly turned their focus back to the Hitori family.

You did not waste the opportunity. Muttering a colorful string of curses under your breath, you followed the direction Mitsue had taken towards the Grand Narukami Shrine.

Honestly, what was that girl thinking, rejecting an opportunity of great fortune like that? Sure, having a reliable job with one of the most powerful families in Inazuma might seem like the safest option in comparison to a five-day boat trip to another continent to find a man whom she had only heard of from a letter – and who, in reality, did not exist. Still. Where was her sense of adventure?

It did not take long until you spotted Mitsue, already too tired to continue running, but still going at a tenacious pace. You made sure to remain at a distance and stay out of sight, but you could see that Mitsue’s mind was too full to consider that she might have been followed. Quite careless of her part when traversing an area with so many nobushi and ruin machines. Perhaps she was not as levelheaded as you had thought – there was hope.

To your budding frustration, the journey was a slow one. Mitsue was young and fit, but she clearly did not have the endurance of a fighter. Or of someone whose life often depended on how fast they ran. Midway through the stairway to the Shrine, she had to stop to catch her breath, leaving you hiding in a very uncomfortable position among the branches of an otogi tree. You wondered if the Shrine had been built in a place so high and so far from the city as a test of faith or if they just did not want many people showing up.

As the stairs turned into a ramp with less trees around, it became harder for you to conceal yourself. You decided to stay further back for a while. When you lost Mitsue from view, you counted one minute and made your way into the Shrine as someone who had come seeking the gods’ blessing.

It was not hard to conjure up the aura of awe and reverence that one expected from followers of the Electro Archon. After all, although you had always heard about the Grand Narukami Shrine, it was your first time going in person. And no mortal in Teyvat could be prepared for the Shrine’s grandeur.

A red wooden arch greeted newcomers to a compound of three buildings surrounded by a shallow pond and several blooming sakura trees. The buildings were the same deep red as the arch, with golden details and a black roof that should not have gone well with the purplish pink of the trees – yet, somehow, it did, with the light blue sky offering a perfect contrast. The figure of the Sacred Sakura towering behind the central building was the finishing touch to the Shrine’s ethereal beauty.

You let your eyes explore the surroundings in wonder, refocusing only once they caught sight of a brown-haired Shrine Maiden approaching. The woman gave you a smile and bowed her head in greeting.

“Welcome to the Grand Narukami Shrine. How may I be of assistance?”

“I’m just visiting. I’ve always heard about the Shrine, thought it was time to see it for myself,” you answered, discreetly trying to locate Mitsue.

“Would you like a tour? I can tell you all about the history of-”

“No need, thank you,” you interrupted, having found your target talking to another Shrine Maiden near the Great Sakura Tree. “I’m more in search of quiet contemplation, you know? But thanks again!”

You ignored the way the Shrine Maiden quirked an eyebrow at you in confusion. You did not plan to come back there, or at least not often, so a bit of abruptness should not interfere with your plans. The priority at that moment was to ensure Mitsue was not misguided by some spiritual intervention.

You approached at a controlled pace, trying to look as casual as possible. You made sure your eyes passed over Mitsue only briefly, as though the latter was part of the scenery. Pretending to admire the architecture, you began to make out the conversation.

“And now my parents want me to give up everything and travel to Sumeru,” explained Mitsue, her tone morose. “But that doesn’t make sense. I did not even know my uncle Yamato. Why would he leave everything to me?”

“Perhaps your father had written to him about you before?” the Shrine Maiden suggested.

"Maybe... But something doesn’t add up. How come this Mr. Havid took money from the estate to fund my trip to Sumeru? I don’t think that’s allowed.”

You silently gritted your teeth, fighting the urge to tell Mitsue that, if she didn’t like the money, she could very well give it back. What did she know about Sumerian laws anyway? Nothing. Just like you. How dare she presume that a fake legal adviser had committed an irregularity.

To your dismay, the scowl on your face had attracted the attention of another Shrine Maiden who stood behind a counter. She waved to you.

“Would you like to draw a fortune slip, miss?”

You smiled politely and silently shook your head, trying to overhear the other Maiden’s reply to Mitsue.

“… understand this is a difficult dilemma. Financial stability is a noble pursuit…”

“Don’t be shy! Even if you don’t like your fortune, all you have to do is tie it to the Fortune Slip Hanger and it will change the fortune to a good one!”

“… not be closed off to new opportunities…”

“It really helps you reflect and find a solution to whatever problems you might-”

“Alright!” you finally replied, forcing a grin while you dug your nails into your left palm. Anything for that woman to stop talking. “I will draw one.”

You slowly made your way to the counter, keeping your steps as silent as possible so you could still listen to Mitsue’s conversation. The Shrine Maiden seemed to be coming to the conclusion of her advice.

“… no one sole path. Pray to the Electro Archon and she will certainly send you a sign to guide you in the right direction.”

Those words eased your tension to an extent. No concrete solution, just a “trust the gods” kind of advice. That was also a favored modus operandi among the Justices of Fontaine. The question was how to make sure the gods were in line with your plan.

You placed your hand inside the cylinder offered by the chirpy Shrine Maiden and drew a small bamboo slip. The Shrine Maiden took it from your and, after analyzing it, returned a paper slip.

“It seems like it will rain today. You may encounter an unpleasant situation,” you read out loud.

“Oh, I’m afraid that is a misfortune. But there is nothing to fear!” the Maiden quickly added, intent on assuaging your inexistent worries. “As I’ve mentioned, just tie the slip on the hanger, then offer some prayers to the Great Sakura, and I’m sure everything will turn out splendidly!”

“It certainly will,” you agreed, somewhat absent-mindedly. “That makes me curious… how would the Electro Archon guide someone’s fortune? I mean, what kind of hints are there, usually?”

“The Archon operates in many different ways.” Ah. The model answer in whatever Shrine Maiden training handbook they received, surely. “Most of the times, it is a matter of paying attention to the small things around you. Through them, you can hear the Almighty Shogun.”

You felt your smile straining. That was too abstract to be useful. The Shrine Maiden noticed your disappointment and tried to elaborate.

“Well… I would say to pay special attention to the kitsune around the Shrine and the Byakko Plain. The Grand Narukami has a special connection with them, they often carry her messages.”

“Look over there! A kitsune!”

“Gwaaaah it’s gonna bite me!”

“Shh, shh, it’s okay. If you don’t hurt the kitsune, they won’t hurt you. After all, they are friends with the Electro Archon.”

“Really?”

“Really. And you know what my dad used to tell me? If you tell a wish to a kitsune, they will carry it back to the Shogun and she might just grant it to you. Why don’t you try it?”

Of course. Kitsune. You felt embarrassed for not thinking of that before. Still, you had no idea how you could play that card. Tying a note written “go to Sumeru” around a kitsune and sending it Mitsue’s way seemed a bit too straightforward for the gods. On the other hand, a subtler sign might be too vague and prone to misinterpretations. You needed to find the proper balance between spiritual and concrete.

You thanked the Shrine Maiden and proceeded to tie the fortune slip on the hanger. Dozens of ideas ran through your mind, none of them worth pursuing.

Could you maybe give a Zaytun Peach to a kitsune and have it pass by Mitsue? You had not seen any shops selling Sumerian food around Inazuma City. And then again, since Mitsue had never left Inazuma, she might not even connect the fruit with Sumeru. What else was Sumeru popularly known for? Research, plants, burnout syndrome… Trying to put a book on a kitsune would be tricky. Perhaps tying different plants and flowers to one could be an option, but would it be enough to make her think of Sumeru? You could always try to prepare an ambush of Dendro Slimes. But then Mitsue might see that as a sign not to go to Sumeru. Maybe you were better sticking to the kitsune hint.

“My, my, if all prayed with the same fervor as you, the gods would never have a moment of rest.”

You started and instinctively took a step back, preparing to either run or attack. You had been immersed in thought, yes, but even so you had continued to pay attention to your surroundings. Mitsue kneeling before the Great Sakura Tree, the Shrine Maiden harassing another visitor about fortune slips, a few people coming and going. You had not seen or heard the approach of this pink-haired woman.

She wore the white and red colors of the Shrine Maidens, but her attire was far more elegant, complemented by golden and purple ornaments. The golden head accessory she wore indicated her high status in the Shrine, but it was the fox ears and the Electro Vision hanging from one of her earrings that made you certain of who it was. In the report Baptiste had given you on the most prominent political figures in Inazuma, her description was the most laconic: high influence on the Shogun; unclear agendas; also owner of the Yae Publishing House.

“Guuji Yae.” You bowed your head in respect. The woman gave no acknowledgement of the greeting. Though her eyes were fixed on you, she did not seem particularly curious or hostile. You returned the gaze, trying to decipher the priestess’ expression.

“What were you wishing for with such intensity?” There was a slight drawl in her voice, turning every word into a mesmerizing melody. It was uncanny.

“That I may find employment soon,” you replied without missing a beat. Guuji Yae’s reply came equally quickly.

“I suppose then that the Grand Narukami has set a new record for speedy answers to prayers. You can work here as a Shrine Maiden. Talk to Kano Nana at the entrance to get your welcome kit.”

The offer caught you off guard, causing the briefest glimpse of concern to flash across your eyes. As much as you did not want to offend the priestess, there was no way to conciliate being stuck at the Shrine with your mission. Recomposing yourself, you opted for a shy smile in return.

“I thank you immensely, Lady Guuji… But I’m afraid that I have no talent for such an important divine task.”

“Oh?” Guuji Yae’s tone sent a shiver through your bones. “You are awfully picky for someone who is unemployed.”

Blood suddenly rushed up your face, spreading across your cheeks and ears. You tried desperately to think of an elegant way out of that conversation, but before any solution came to mind, you noticed a playful smirk dancing on Guuji Yae’s lips.

“Relax, dear, I was only teasing. Though I must say it is a shame… The Shrine Maiden uniform would have looked so cute on you.”

“Hehe… Thank you, Lady Guuji…” you chuckled awkwardly, relaxing your shoulders only slightly. Something about the way Guuji Yae looked at you made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

“And I have so many unused uniforms at the back… I hardly know what to do with them.”

Your ears perked up at the comment, an idea suddenly taking root in your mind. If you had not known it was impossible, you would have sworn Guuji Yae had read your thoughts, from the way the woman’s smirk widened.

“Well, I will let you resume your praying for now. If I may offer one last word of advice,” Guuji Yae leaned forward, bringing her lips close to your ear. Her voice came out as a whisper. “Whatever you decide to do, don’t be boring.”

Without further explanation, Guuji Yae spun on her heels and walked off. You stared wordlessly at the priestess’ back, trying to make sense of that brief yet intense exchange. Right before you averted your eyes, you finally found the words to describe why you had found Guuji Yae’s presence unsettling. The way Guuji Yae had stared at you very much resembled that of a child who had grown tired of a toy and was looking for a new one.

You shook your head as if that could erase the past seconds from your memory. Not that it mattered. Deliberately or not, Guuji Yae had just given you a piece of information that could be useful for your immediate concerns.

The Shrine Maidens were all busy with other visitors, so it was easy to sneak to the back of the Shrine unnoticed. A few wooden boxes were piled up against the building. On top of one of them was a white festival mask shaped like a kitsune. You went straight for that one and, as expected, found an array of folded Shrine Maiden uniforms. You grabbed one of them and, in a snap decision, took the mask as well.

After hiding the items in a nearby bush, you ran around the buildings and reached the arch at the entrance of the Shrine. You pretended to admire the sakura blossoms until you saw that Mitsue was finally done with her prayers and was preparing to leave. As expected, the girl still bore a disquieted expression. Perfect.

When Mitsue was near the arch, you walked in her direction, calculatingly distracted. You bumped shoulders, causing Mitsue to start. As the polite, diligent girl she was, her next words were also as expected.

“I’m sorry.” You sent her a sympathetic smile.

“Don’t worry about it. Rough day?”

Mitsue looked away, embarrassed. “A lot on my mind.”

“A stroll around the Chinju Forest always helps me when I’m like that.”

With that seemingly casual remark, you walked away, not waiting to see Mitsue’s reaction. On the corner of your eye, you could see that Mitsue was still standing there, brow furrowed in thought. You kept your leisurely pace until you were out of sight and then rushed to get the pilfered outfit from the bush. You had planted the seed and could only hope it would take root. In any event, you had little time for the preparations.

Mist flowers were a fascinating species. Even after their corollas had been picked, they continued to emit cold. Their usefulness for making potions and oils was well-known around Teyvat. Not so many years ago, Fontainians had discovered an even more interesting use to these corollas: special effects at rock’n’roll concerts.

Place a bunch of corollas on different points of the stage and add a constant source of Pyro. The reaction between the cold and the heat produced a thick mist that lasted until the corolla was completely consumed by the fire. The smokescreen created an aura of mystery and excitement that the audience adored. And being such a simple technique, it quickly became commonplace in Fontainian music festivals. In time, different sorts of machines had been developed to make the process more efficient. Thankfully, you only needed the rudimentary process.

You had slid down Mount Yogou as fast as you could, in the opposite direction of the path leading to the Grand Narukami Shrine, ignoring the scrapes you received from the rocks. As luck would have it, you found a mist flower on a nearby beach. Making a small fire out of dry sticks of wood, you gathered the heat necessary to remove the corolla. Then you bolted to Chinju Forest, counting on Mitsue’s average physical prowess to make it before her.

As you approached the forest, you softened your steps, lest you scared off nearby animals. You managed to find an unsuspecting weasel who had barely turned around before being cut down by your dagger. Now you just needed to find a kitsune for the finishing touch. It should not be too hard; you had seen a few packs running around and chasing bake-danuki the previous week. A rivalry of eons past, so you had heard.

Before you could get to that, you heard footsteps nearby. Swiftly sliding behind a tree to hide from view, you spotted Mitsue entering the forest with hesitant steps. You bit your lip to repress a groan. You did not have much time. Every move was going to have to be precise.

You found a pebble on the ground and threw it on a tree opposite to where she was. The sound startled Mitsue, distracting her enough for you to move faster without being discovered. You hid behind a section of thick bushes and started putting the Shrine Maiden uniform on top of your usual clothes. It would look bulky, but you had no time for a complete change of clothes. Hopefully the mist and the dim light in Chinju Forest would mask that well enough.

You tied the kitsune mask to the top of your head and started working on the fire, careful not to let it catch the leaves of the bush. Your could hear Mitsue slowly getting closer. The tension made your hands sweaty, causing the wood to slip from your hands a few times. At last, a spark lit up and a shy flame materialized. It was good enough. You put the mist flower corolla close to the fire and waited for nature to do its job.

Your breath was heavy from all the adrenaline, but so far things were progressing reasonably well. All you had to do now was wait for the mist to pick up. As you turned your back to the path Mitsue walked by, intent on taking a deep breath and calming yourself down for the next phase, you found a pair of black eyes fixed on you.

The kitsune stood about fifteen meters away, mouth hanging open in a way that almost looked as if it were laughing at you. You almost laughed yourself. Maybe the Electro Archon had indeed heard your prayers.

As slowly as you could, you picked up the dead weasel and waved it in front of the kitsune, hoping to stir up its appetite. The creature’s only reaction was to tilt its head.

“Yummy, isn’t it? You hungry, little guy?” you mouthed, leaning forward with the weasel. You opened your mouth and mimicked taking a bite off the meat. The kitsune stood unmoving, though you could have sworn you caught a glimpse of amusement in its eyes. The thought only made you more anxious.

Mitsue was close now. You had a decision to make, to insist on the kitsune or letting it go.

“Please, please, please, help me out here,” you whispered softly and flung the weasel out of the bush into Mitsue’s direction.

The girl yelped as the dead animal fell before her. The kitsune gave you one last look and sprinted towards the weasel, picking it up and disappearing in the opposite direction. Mitsue’s eyes followed the kitsune, a hand on her chest as she tried to catch her breath. You smirked and pulled down your mask.

When Mitsue had finally managed to recompose herself, she turned to find before her a figure that seemed to have jumped straight out of one of the dark tales Eri liked to tell the children. Surrounded by mist, arms folded inside the sleeves of a Shrine Maiden uniform, a white kitsune mask covering the entirety of her face. Mitsue started to visibly shake.

“H-hello?”

You remained silent and unmoving. If you were going to impersonate a divine being, you needed to be as annoyingly cryptical as one.

“Who are you?”

You ignored the question once again, leaving Mitsue even jitterier.

“Were you… sent here by the Archon?”

Ah, the perfect cue. Deepening your voice, you spoke.

“The glow of lightning shines brighter amidst the rainforest.”

Behind the mask, you smiled to yourself. You had been rehearsing that since you had left the Grand Narukami Shrine. It was the perfect mixture of abstraction with a solid reference to Sumeru. Even someone who had never left Inazuma was aware of the reputation of Sumeru’s rainforests. Surely Mitsue could not miss that hint.

“Sorry, what?”

Mitsue’s expression was one of utter confusion. Repressing a sigh, you decided to try again. You could not risk being misinterpreted.

“The pursuit of wisdom is, in itself, a path to eternity.”

With such an obvious reference to the Dendro Archon, Mitsue would certainly get-

“I beg your pardon, I don’t understand.”

Could this girl really be that dense or had she no respect for the ways of the spirits? This time, you could not conceal the irritation in your tone.

“One would do well to accept new opportunities that come their way, even if unexpected and implying sacrifices. Especially sacrifices having to do with mundane labor.”

Perhaps too straightforward for a spirit, but at least time Mitsue’s face seemed to light up with some sort of comprehension. Now she could not have missed the hint. Knowing that the more you remained the more you risked having your ruse revealed, you spun on your heels and walked away.

“Wait!” Mitsue called from behind you. “S-should I really take this trip? What if-”

“One should think carefully before questioning the wisdom of the spirits,” you snapped angrily. One more second and you might just change your mind and tie Mitsue on a boat to Sumeru yourself.

The threat proved effective enough. Mitsue said nothing more and merely watched as you disappeared behind a tree.

Once hidden, you took off the mask and let out an irritable sigh. Your eyes widened when you saw the kitsune from before standing in front of you, the weasel forgotten at its feet. Now you were sure the kitsune was laughing at you.

You had barely slept that night. The whole ordeal with Mitsue had left you terribly anxious. You tried to eavesdrop the conversations Mitsue might have had with her family back in the village, but whatever they talked about had been in hushed tones and closed doors.

You could not afford for that plan to go wrong. You had already wasted two weeks with that, two weeks in which you could have been searching the Kamisato Estate for compromising documents. Even though Baptiste had already warned the clients that that would be a long-term operation, you knew that he liked to surpass expectations and deliver early results. You loved seeing the surprise on their faces too. That was what had earned the Croque-Mitaines such a stellar reputation.

The entire night, you tossed and turned in bed, trying to map out all the possibilities and all back up plans in case Mitsue remained in Inazuma. The only result you got from that were dark bags under your eyes and a foul mood. Both of these did not go unnoticed when you joined the Saimons for breakfast the following morning.

“Hitomi, are you ill? You look really tired,” asked Katsumi, pouring you a cup of tea. You feigned a smile, which you were sure did nothing to assuage his concern.

“Just some bad dreams. I’ll recover.”

“Can’t be worse than what the Hitoris are going through, that’s for sure,” Eri remarked ominously. Katsumi rolled his eyes at his wife.

“For Archon’s sake, stop with this kind of talk! It was a sensible decision, now they just have to wait and see.”

“What? What happened?” you asked, incapable of keeping the anxiety from your voice. Your eagerness did not startle Kenshin; that was the hot village gossip, after all.

“Kenshin took Mitsue to Ritou to buy the ticket for Sumeru. She intends to leave tomorrow morning.”

It was as if someone had lifted a heavy bag from your shoulders. Your knees suddenly buckled and you had to lean on the table for support. Katsumi and Eri hovered worriedly over you, insisting that you take a seat and maybe that you should take the day to rest in bed. You smiled and nodded, barely registering their words. All you could think of was how you had proven that fortune slip wrong.

Chapter Text

All it took was a light click and your eyes snapped open, hands immediately reaching for the daggers hidden under the mattress. Adrenaline coursed through your veins, clearing your mind from the last remnants of sleepiness and preparing yourself for action.

The door opened only enough to allow for a small head with short brown hair to come through. You let out a sigh, grip on the daggers relaxing, but not releasing entirely. The girl eyed you timidly.

“I had a bad dream,” Anaïs whispered, her blue eyes turning to the floor.

You had known this was bound to happen at some point when you taught the girl how to undo the locks on your door. It was supposed to be used for emergencies, some kind of danger. But clearly Anaïs had given a more extensive interpretation to “whatever you need, come to see me”.

“Come on in. Lock the door.”

Anaïs complied and you could not help but marvel at how silent her footsteps were. With enough time, she might just learn how to make herself invisible at will.

It was only after the door was fully locked that you put your daggers away. You sat up with your back against the wall and patted the mattress beside you, inviting Anaïs to join. The girl scurried up and leaned her head against your arm while hugging her legs. You stiffened briefly at the contact, but forced yourself to relax. You had to do this, for you knew no one else would.

You raised your hand to caress Anaïs’s head, gently twirling some of the longer locks on your fingers. They were just starting to cover her nape. Anaïs’s shoulders relaxed at the touch and she scooched up closer to you.

“It’s growing quickly,” you remarked, content at the way Anaïs eyes beamed at those words.

 “Do you think I can have a pretty braid like Elke’s?”

“Sure thing. As soon as it’s long enough, we will start doing some.” Anaïs nodded eagerly.

You stood in silence for a while, with only the sound of your fingers running across Anaïs hair filling the room. You did not ask about the nightmare. Even if Anaïs were willing to speak about it, you would not have known what to say. So you turned the conversation to the first thing you had noticed when the girl had entered the room. You tapped the empty gap in Anaïs’s bracelet.

“Where is your Vision?”

The girl shifted her gaze to her toes. “I left it in my room.”

“You can’t keep leaving it unprotected like that.”

“It’s not unprotected! Boniface is there.”

“You can’t leave Boniface alone like that either.”

The mention of her brother caused Anaïs to hug her legs more tightly. “He doesn’t mind. He doesn’t want me around anyway.”

“Now, you know that’s a lie,” you chided, trying to keep your voice soft. “Why are you saying that?”

Anaïs shifted in place, visibly uncomfortable. “He could still be home. They kicked me out, not him.”

You knew the story. Baptiste had filled you in when he first brought the twins to the Croque-Mitaines’ headquarters. How their parents had shoved Anaïs out the door and Boniface had run up to her, ignoring the couple’s cries telling him to “stay away from his brother”. And how Boniface had replied, “I am going with my sister”. Minutes later, a blizzard had come forth and destroyed most of the house. Anaïs swore she could not remember what had happened, but the Vision on her hand was answer enough.

How fitting for the City of Justice. Two siblings so brave, and yet Celestia had granted its boon to only one of them.

 “Honestly, he’s better off away from them. You both are,” you said. You did not mention that the twins were probably not in the most auspicious situation staying with the Croque-Mitaines either. But it was not like you had many alternatives. The entire organization was composed of persons lacking alternatives in the end.

Anaïs did not answer. Eventually, You sighed. You were going to regret this.

“Come on. Go get Boniface. You’re both sleeping here tonight.”

The girl’s expression immediately lightened up.

“And get your Vision.”

Anaïs nodded, jumping off the bed and dashing out of the room. You continued to stare at the door long after she was gone, trying to quell the uneasiness that settled on your stomach.

To your relief, Mitsue had left Kamisato Estate and taken the boat to Sumeru, where she would have the joy of finding her uncle alive – and the frustration of not receiving an inheritance, but hopefully meeting her uncle would soften the blow. To your consternation, Mitsue had apparently been so incompetent at her job that the Yashiro Commission had decided not to announce another opening. That was the only explanation you could think of as to why, six days later, you had heard nothing from the Commission. No one had been hired. No new calls had been posted. And you were running out of Mora.

For the briefest moment, you considered marching into the Kamisato Estate and requesting the job. You would say that you were living in Konda Village and had happened to hear about Mitsue’s departure. Except that would be a disaster. A family like the Kamisatos did not stay in power for so long without being suspicious of too many coincidences. Whatever your next contact with them was, you had to make it seem completely accidental.

This was how you found yourself standing in front of Komore Teahouse with those uncomfortable shoes and your sweetest, most innocent smile. If Yoimiya’s ramblings were correct, the Yashiro Commission’s personnel were the shop’s most avid clientele. You could only hope they were hiring.

A woman with long, dark brown hair and a dark purple kimono stood at the entrance with her arms crossed. As soon as she saw you walking towards the teahouse, her apathetic gaze seemed to turn into one of irritation. You had not even said anything yet.

You stretched your smile even further, hoping that would help disarming the woman. It did not work. An auspicious beginning, clearly.

“Apologies, but we do not serve the general public,” the woman declared as soon as you were within hearing shot. Your lips twitched.

“Good morning, ma’am. I am not a client, actually. I am seeking employment and wondered if the teahouse is hiring. I can prepare tea, cook, serve, clean… Anything you need.”

You were proud to say that was not a lie. The thing about espionage was that one ended up having to play a varied array of roles and, consequently, picking up different skills. Throughout the years, you had had plenty of occasions to act as a servant of some kind. A waitress, a concierge, a junior chef, an apprentice baker, a maid, and even a mechanic – though Baptiste agreed that that kind of disguise should never be attempted again within Fontaine’s borders. Even though you could not claim to master any of these abilities, you knew enough to do a passable job on most tasks your disguises required.

The woman, however, remained unimpressed. If anything, her irritation seemed to grow.

“Why would you ever want to work here?”

You frowned. Were the working conditions that bad at the teahouse?

“I just really need to find some work and thought my skillset would work well in a teahouse.”

“Komore Teahouse does not employ just anyone,” the woman spat. “Those who are hired are required to enter into a contract with Taroumarou forcing them to work here forever. Are you truly ready to meet these conditions?”

Now you knew that the woman was just trying to scare you off. Though Inazuma was the Land of Eternity, no self-respecting nation could allow for everlasting servitude under their labor laws. Not even Snezhnaya did that and Celestia knows how intense those people were.

“I am sure that Mr. Taroumarou could be open to negotiation regarding the term of the contract,” you tried. You now recalled that Yoimiya had mentioned this Taroumarou a couple of times. Apparently, he was friends with Thoma. If he was in charge of the employment contracts for the teahouse, getting close to him could be important to your mission.

In the face of your insistence, the woman only scoffed. “Good luck with that.”

She then turned around and walked into the teahouse. You supposed that was your cue to follow, and so you did.

The interior of the building followed the traditional style of Inazuman teahouses. Wooden panels decorated the walls and, despite their dark tone, the windows and paper lamps made the surroundings quite well lit. There was a counter made with the same dark wood, upon which rested two bonsai, a statue depicting a dog wearing a red coat and a crooked white headband tied to its left ear, and a few vases. To the right you could see a corridor, which probably led to rooms were clients could enjoy their tea in privacy. A simple yet elegant atmosphere.

The woman moved just enough to let you into the space, but did not go farther than a couple of steps in. “There he is. You can discuss your terms with him.”

You surveyed the room again but did not see anyone. Suddenly, you heard a bark.

It was only then that you realized that the statue on the counter was, in fact, a real dog. You had never seen a dog sit so still before. It did not even look like it was breathing. You instinctively took a step back, muscles stiffening. You took a deep breath.

“Where?”

“There, on the counter.”

“I… only see a dog.”

The dog barked again and you stiffened. The woman seemed unfazed by your reaction.

“Taroumarou is a retired ninja dog and the owner of Komore Teahouse. Please address him with the proper respect someone of his status deserves.”

There was indeed something terribly wrong with the Inazuman legal system if it allowed for a dog to own a teahouse. The matter of eternal contracts suddenly did not seem so far-fetched. The risks were too great and the possibility of return too low, you decided.

“Thank you very much, ma’am. Indeed, I don’t think I have the necessary qualifications. Have a nice day!”

Without so much as a glance back, you stormed off.

Now, that had been a waste of a precious morning. Your mind reeled, trying to think of where to go next. Of course you had conjectured that you might not get work at Komore Teahouse, but you had not expected such an unusual experience. Trying your luck at another restaurant would probably be best, but what if the Yashiro Commission staff never ate elsewhere? Then again, with how short on Mora you were running, perhaps it would be more strategic to just find a gig quickly and work out an accidental meeting with someone from the Commission later. Still, if you took too long, the clients would surely start complaining.

Immerse in thought, you only noticed the blur of red, orange, and yellow running into you when it was too late.

“We really have got to stop meeting like this,” you hissed, rubbing your head and glaring at Yoimiya.

“Ouch, ouch, agreed… So sorry! You must think I’m so clumsy.”

“No, not at all.” You were proud that you had managed to keep the tone neutral, without any of the sarcasm that stirred in your throat.

“Then again, it has been a busy time for Naganohara Fireworks! Speaking of which, how is the job hunting going, Hitomi?”

“I wish I could say it’s terrible, but even for that it would need to improve.”

“Oh dang… Nanatsuki didn’t hire you?”

The previous week, Yoimiya had mentioned that the owner of the lacquerware shop was looking for an assistant. At the time, you had not given it much thought, still confident that getting Mitsue out of the way would solve all your problems. Now, with barely two thousand Mora left in your wallet, you were starting to wonder if you should give that a shot. But then a better idea struck you.

“Hey, Yoimiya. Don’t you need an extra pair of hands?”

The idea seemed to startle the blonde woman. You yourself were horrified about how you had not considered that before. Naganohara Fireworks was not only a long-time business partner of the Yashiro Commission, but Yoimiya herself had been involved in their schemes to fight the Vision Hunt Decree. She was in frequent contact with the Commission’s staff and apparently had a friendly relationship with Thoma. It was the perfect way to arrange an accidental meeting with him.

At last, the woman spoke.

“I don’t think so. The shop has always been a family business, even when I was little my dad never hired anyone to help.”

“But you keep mentioning how busy you have been these past weeks. Actually, every time I’ve seen you it’s like you’re running,” You insisted gently. To be fair, you did not believe Yoimiya had ever walked more slowly than a jog in her life.

“Yeah, the Yashiro Commission has been sending many requests lately… And with such short timeframes too!”

“See? I could help you handle that.”

Yoimiya still did not seem comfortable with the suggestion. You raised your eyebrows, nudging the woman to respond.

“You see,” Yoimiya started, uncharacteristically hesitant, “the art of making fireworks has been passed down within the Naganohara Clan for generations. It is something really important to us, it’s what makes our fireworks so special. I’m not sure I would feel comfortable having other people learn it.”

You fought to keep your expression pleasant when all you wanted was to grab Yoimiya by the shoulders and scream that you had not crossed a tempestuous sea into the country you despised the most in all of Teyvat to acquire her trade secrets. Instead, you said, “I don’t have to help with the manufacturing process! It’s better if I don’t, actually, I would be terrified to mess anything up, seeing as it is so complex. I was thinking of maybe running errands, buying the materials, transporting things… You know, supporting tasks.”

Yoimiya tapped a finger against her chin, considering those words. You were getting impatient. You grabbed Yoimiya’s hand, trying to put on your most disarming smile. The one that had not worked with the woman at Komore Teahouse.

“That would be a huge help for me and, I hope, for you too. Just until I find something else. Please?”

The pleading at last softened Yoimiya. She returned the smile.

“I can’t guarantee that I will have enough work for you for an entire day, but at least part-time for sure. Well then, Hitomi, welcome to Naganohara Fireworks!”

Yoimiya might be a master of her craft, but you were seriously starting to question her entrepreneurial skills. For one, even though all fireworks were being crafted and delivered on time, the paperwork regarding which products had been sold and supply management was outdated by at least two weeks. Yoimiya hardly had time to take care of that and her father, Ryuunosuke, found it difficult to keep adequate control as he misheard most of the orders. It was not rare for Yoimiya to have to go running around last minute to buy supplies to finish an order. She should have hired an assistant a long time ago.

As if that were not enough, Yoimiya handled the organization of the storage like she handled everything else in her life: chaotically. Only Yoimiya herself knew where to find the correct materials and orders. The few boxes that were labeled were in an incomprehensible script. When clients came and Yoimiya was not around, Ryuunosuke would have them wait for several minutes before finding what they wanted, or simply ask them to wait for Yoimiya. Who knew how much Mora she was losing due to this kind of disorganization?

The first thing you did was to write an inventory of all materials they had at the shop, their quantity, and their conditions. That alone took your entire first day of employment. Still, it had felt surprisingly good to have your mind filled with things other than the current lack of accomplishments in your mission.

Yoimiya’s eyes had sparkled when she surveyed the list.

“Wow, Hitomi, this is so thorough! I didn’t know we had so much sodium left. I can get started on those sunflower fireworks Ryuuji asked me to make!”

“You know that there are benefits to an organized workspace, right?”

“Of course! You won’t see a tidier fireworks shop in all of Inazuma!”

“Aren’t you the only fireworks shop in Inazuma?”

“My point stands.”

You were thus officially put in charge of managing the stock and following up on the status of the orders. As expected, there were quite a few from the Yashiro Commission, most of them made the previous week. The orders were for different kinds of fireworks, the only thing in common being that they were made with the biggest models of artillery shells, appropriate for large explosions. There should be some kind of festival around the corner. Which meant that they would probably pick up the order soon.

And so it was that, on the third day of your new job, a familiar blond stopped by.

“Hey, Thoma! Long time no see!” Yoimiya greeted, as loudly as if Thoma had been three kilometers away. To his credit, the man did not flinch.

“Hi, Yoimiya! How have you been?”

“Working to the bone, that’s how! What are you planning to do with so many fireworks, light up all of Narukami?”

“Now, now, I’m pretty sure that would pose an environmental hazard,” Thoma replied, looking slightly nervous as if he indeed feared that Yoimiya would try to set fireworks all around the island. You could see his point.

“I’m sure we could work something out. Oh! You will never guess. I’ve been so busy that I had to hire an assistant!” Yoimiya gestured proudly to you, who was sitting on a nearby table with a pencil and paper, pretending to catalogue the orders you had for the week. Hearing your cue, you finally acknowledged Thoma, bowing your head.

Thoma’s eyes widened in surprise. “I remember you! Hitomi, was it?”

“Uh? You know each other?”

“During my job hunting, I went to the Kamisato Estate to see if they had any openings,” you explained. You did not need to mention that this had happened before you had met Yoimiya. “Hello, Master Thoma.”

“Oh, come on, no need for that! Just Thoma is fine,” he replied with a smile. “I’m glad to see you’ve found something else. Especially with Yoimiya.”

“Well, it is only temporary, unfortunately,” you quickly added, sending Yoimiya a look. The blonde woman nodded.

“Yes, I could only hire Hitomi part-time and for a while. But she’s been such great help already!”

“I am still looking for something more permanent, though,” you cut in, before Yoimiya gave the impression that there was a possibility that you might remain at Naganohara Fireworks indefinitely. Or that you wanted to. “Perhaps a housekeeping position, as that is what I am used to.”

You almost smiled at yourself at how deftly you had played your cards. The hint was obvious and you had not needed to show that you knew about Mitsue’s departure, or sound too eager to work for the Kamisatos. Thoma would certainly mention the vacancy. And then the job could resume like it was always meant to.

Thoma put a hand on his with a thoughtful expression. He hummed a bit, ignoring how your expectant gaze sought to burrow holes in his head. When he at last spoke, it was with an apologetic smile.

“Can’t think of anything right now. But again, if I hear anything, I will let you know!”

Your expression froze, except for your eyes. you blinked once. And again. When you blinked the third time, the pencil you were holding had broken into two. To your relief, the sound of Yoimiya’s voice muffled the crack.

“You’re a lifesaver, Thoma! Glad we can always count on you to help out!”

You nodded in agreement, forcing your lips to stretch into a smile you hoped did not look like you were baring fangs. What had happened? You were sure they hadn’t replaced Mitsue with anyone else. You had kept your ears up for any activity of the sorts and one day even spent three hours hidden on top of a Sakura tree on the back of Mount Yogou to ensure there were no new faces around the Kamisato Estate. Had they suspected you? No, that was impossible. You had only had that one quick interaction with the Yashiro Commission. You had covered your tracks, gotten closer to other kinds of people, made sure you looked no different from any other returnee seeking to reintegrate into Inazuman society. Had they simply decided they did not need another servant? What in Teyvat could have prompted that change? Perhaps Mitsue truly had been that incompetent. Or perhaps that “misfortune” fortune slip was only starting to take effect now.

“Yes, thank you so much, Thoma. Should I give you the outstanding orders for the Yashiro Commission?” you asked.

“Yes, please! While you do that, I will just go check some orders we made at Tsukumomono Groceries, is that okay?”

You nodded again and scurried into the shop, your smile immediately deflating. You gritted your teeth to prevent the scream that was threatening to come out. Instead, you assuaged your frustration by breaking the two pieces of pencil into smaller parts. You hid them in one of your pockets – wouldn’t be worth risking Yoimiya seeing that and wondering.

You needed to think of something. What else could you do to secure employment at the Kamisato Estate? Could you perhaps ask Yoimiya to suggest that to Thoma? No, that would seem too desperate. And if Thoma was as good at his job as the reports said, he would not hire someone to work at for the Kamisatos simply as a favor to a friend. Perhaps you could change the approach – start making deliveries to the estate while working with Yoimiya. But no, you would never have enough freedom to snoop around like that. You needed to get access to the Yashiro Commissioner’s office. A one-time stealth operation was highly risky as well; Kamisato Ayato had not gained the reputation for saving his clan from downfall by leaving his office unprotected at night. Moreover, the clients had specifically required that the Kamisatos should not be able to notice any signs of a break-in or missing documents.

The hard part of the job was supposed to be finding proof of the Kamisatos’ collaboration with the Resistance, not getting into the estate. Archons be damned – how had things gone so wrong? You needed to think of something, you needed to-

“Thanks a bunch, Hitomi!” Thoma said as he took the box of fireworks into his hands. He flashed you that toothy smile intended to convey trust and warmth. It made you want to grab him by the neck and pound his face against the cobblestones on the ground. Instead, you smiled back and waved.

Perhaps Baptiste could have quickly formulated a strategy and turned the tables right there. With his silver tongue, he would spin a story and, by the end of it, the housekeeper would be begging to hire him. But the secret of that ability had not been passed to you. You could think of nothing to say that would not blow your cover. So you stayed silent.

“Oh, by the way, Thoma,” called Yoimiya as he was turning to walk away. “Kiminami Restaurant has recently hired a new cook from Natlan. He’s been making a lot of new dishes, sometimes even mixing foreign and local ingredients. You should get some to Ayaka later.”

You, who had grabbed another pencil and was scribbling down some notes, pretending not to pay attention, wondered about the familiarity with which she referred to the Shirasagi Himegimi. One thing was to call her ‘Ayaka’ when discussing with you; another thing entirely was to talk like that in front of the Chief Retainer of the Kamisato Clan. From your previous conversations with Yoimiya, you had not gotten the impression that the two were friends, even if Yoimiya was, by nature, friendly with everyone. You needed to find out if that was just Yoimiya’s casual style or if there was something more at play.

Whatever he thought of it, Thoma did not show.

“Great idea, Yoimiya! Milady will love that. When things calm down, we can all go there. My treat!”

Goodbyes were exchanged and Thoma walked off. Once he was way out of earshot, you turned to Yoimiya with the casual tone of someone seeking to make small talk.

“Natlanese dishes? What are they like?”

“Apparently the flavor is super, super rich. Not as spicy as Liyuean cuisine, but they use a lot of different kinds of peppers. Oh, and maize. I ordered this snack once called Awe-Striking Arepas and oh boy, did they live up to the name.”

“Sounds very different from traditional Inazuman dishes. Do people here like it?”

“Well… it’s gotten mixed reviews. Like all new things that have been coming in since the country reopened, honestly. I guess it’s so much change all at once that people get overwhelmed.”

“That’s understandable, I guess…” you mused slowly. “Though I imagine for us common folk it’s way easier to open up to these kinds of new things than for noble families, who have this whole weight of tradition upon them.”

“Oh, I had never thought about that!” exclaimed Yoimiya, her tone suddenly becoming thoughtful. “I certainly can’t imagine those uptight seniors of the Kujou Clan going out of their way to try new dishes… But you know, a few months ago, the Almighty Shogun herself encouraged people to try out this new dango milk thing!”

You grimaced. “Dango… milk?”

“To be honest, I haven’t tried it. I can eat snacks that have milk in them just fine, but milk itself… uh, it kind of gets fireworks going in my stomach. Not fun. But you should definitely try it! If you don’t also have a problem with milk, of course.”

“Nothing of the sort,” you giggled.

“What kind of food did you have in Fontaine?”

“Different things, but I suppose mostly breads and pastries. You can’t live in Fontaine without a high sugar intake.”

Yoimiya licked her lips unabashedly. “Sounds lovely! Ooh, I do wish someone would bring Fontainian cuisine over to the city soon.”

“I’m not sure it would be very popular.” You shrugged, though you shared the sentiment. At least then you would be able to get some decent coffee instead of tea every day. “It’s very different from what you usually have in Inazuma.”

“Maybe for some. But you would be surprised by how much people here have been craving new things from abroad!”

“That would surprise me. For instance?”

“Me!” You sent her an unimpressed look. Seeing that her first example had not been convincing enough, Yoimiya added, “And Thoma and Ayaka too!”

You curved your lips into a small ‘o’, as though you had not been discreetly and carefully steering the conversation towards your targets. “Really? The Shirasagi Himegimi?”

Yoimiya nodded. “Ayaka loves to try things from abroad, especially food. And she likes sweets, so she probably would love those pastries you mentioned! If any Fontainian place opens in Inazuma, the Kamisato Clan would probably buy their entire stock!”

“Have they ever thought of hiring a foreign chef?”

“Haha, I doubt it. Not with Thoma’s cooking. I swear, he can make anything taste delicious!”

You smiled despite your budding frustration. Your sprout of an idea of mastering Fontainian cuisine to get access to the Kamisato Clan was dead on arrival. Then again, it was already unlikely that you, whose cooking abilities were decent at best, would be able to pass by a cook in a sufficiently short period of time. The closest you had ever gotten was posing as an assistant to a patissier back in Fontaine, but that assignment had barely lasted three months.

For the following two days, every piece of information you had ever gleaned on the Kamisatos spiraled like a hurricane in your brain. From the more strategic reports prepared before your departure to Inazuma to the bits and pieces of local knowledge you had acquired ever since arriving: closer to the people than the other noble families; very diligent in their management of cultural affairs; extremely reserved on private matters; a carefully cultivated jovial façade, but one that might have traces of genuineness; prone to buying festival products in bulk; apparent knack for exotic food. Yet, no matter how hard you tried, none of those details seemed to fit into any effective strategy to get you into the Kamisato household. Perhaps if the infiltration were beginning anew, if you had a clean slate, you might have been able to spin another cover and work from there, but your options had been restricted by the unexpected way your introduction to Thoma had developed.

To put it mildly, you were stressed. More so than when you were dealing with the Mitsue problem – at least there you had had some sort of concrete path to your short-term goal. Now, you did not know where to begin. You knew, of course, that stressed people were prone to making rash decisions. This eventually led to mistakes. Knowing that also added to your stress.

For a brief moment, you wished that whomever Baptiste had chosen to send to Inazuma would approach you quickly. You needed a safe way to communicate with the leader of the Croque-Mitaines, needed to take the weight of responsibility for the planning of the infiltration off your shoulders. Forget about coming up with a strategy by yourself and reasserting your position in the organization. If you stayed much longer like that, you might end up with another misstep.

The image of a dark blue-haired man flipping and catching a vividly blue gem between his fingers flashed through your mind. Amusement gleamed in his amber eyes as he stared at you with a sardonic grin.

You felt anger suddenly rising within you, its flames eating away the frantic desperation you had felt but seconds ago. You pinched the bridge of your nose, the pressure helping you to refocus. You weres good at this job. You had been chosen for a reason. Failing was not an option.

“Hey, Yoimiya, need me to run some errands around town? My legs could use a stretch,” you offered. Restless as you were, you might start going around in circles if you did not leave the shop.

“I was actually about to head off to Amenoma Smithy,” the blonde woman replied. “They ended up with a surplus of copper that I want to test a new model of specter-shaped fireworks. Did you know that copper burns this beautiful greenish blue light? Getting the powder is tricky, though. You have to dip the metal into this acidic solution and wait until-”

“Please, let me help with that,” you cut off before Yoimiya got carried away. “That way, you have more time to prepare the artillery shells for tomorrow’s orders. Anything else you need?”

Amenoma Smithy was essentially next door to Naganohara Fireworks. Having more time to catch fresh air would be a blessing to your brain. Besides, if you were lucky, you might even overhear something interesting on the streets.

“Um, let me think… Can you also pass by Yae Publishing House? Pops is looking for volume five of ‘Princess Mina of the Fallen Nation’.”

“Leave it to me,” you promptly agreed, the relief of going out overshadowing your surprise at Ryuunosuke’s interest in light novels.

You darted off to the smith shop. As you approached, Hajime’s voice reached you, his tone clearly frustrated.

“And then they said ‘300,000 Mora, that’s the lowest we can go’. For a kilogram! With how much the doushin are taxing for each gram, we would have to pay almost double that amount. It doesn’t make any sense.”

Hajime’s master, old Amenoma Togou, nodded silently, eyeing the neglected forge as a subtle indication that his apprentice should go back to work. You had interacted with him a few times, though you had lost some of your interest after learning that the Kamisato Clan rarely sent him orders. Still, you had seen enough to notice that the duo looked more tired than usual.

 “Good afternoon, gentlemen,” you greeted with a smile. And since Hajime had not been keeping his voice low, you inquired. “Business is not too tough, I hope?”

Togou let out a weary sigh and shook his head. “The Tenryou Commission raised the import taxes on ore but decreased the export taxes. Now foreign blade smiths can buy amethyst lumps much more easily and experiment with it on their weapons, but we have to pay a lot more to get cor lapis and noctilucous jade.”

“I swear, I don’t know what they are thinking!” groaned Hajime. “How are we supposed to further develop our craft and compete with foreign markets like this?”

You frowned. “Tenryou Commission? But I thought it was the Kanjou Commission that managed the tax system.”

“Well, in general, yes,” Togou started, searching for a didactic way to explain. “But to prevent the actions of one Commission from impairing the essential functioning of the other two, each Commission has the power to regulate taxes on products that fall under their areas of exclusive competence. The Tenryou Commission takes care of military and security matters, right? So they regulate the production, selling, and buying of weapons. And, by extension, of the minerals used to produce them.”

“What if the minerals are not being sold to make weapons? What about jewelry, or fireworks?”

“In these two cases, then the taxes set by the Yashiro Commission apply. Yes, jewelry is considered as part of cultural affairs, don’t ask me why,” he added upon seeing your puzzlement. “And if it is for some product that neither the Tenryou nor the Yashiro Commission have jurisdiction over, the Kanjou Commission’s taxes apply.”

“And how do they know what the items will be used for? Merchants could claim they are buying ore to make weapons and get lower taxes, but then sell it to jewelers and have a greater margin of profit.”

“I will not say that this does not happen, but it is a lot less frequent than you might think. Each merchant involved in exporting and importing Inazuman goods has to present the invoices of their transactions involving those goods within the last year to the Kanjou Commission. Only then are the goods cleared. And since they keep a tight record of all the ships and crew arriving in and leaving the country, they know if someone abruptly changes their business pattern.”

“Not to mention that the penalty for defrauding these kinds of documents may involve lifelong ban from trading with Inazuma,” Hajime pointed.

A convoluted system whose functioning heavily relied on fear of punishment. Sounded like the Inazuma you knew. To be fair, the general logic was not that different from that of the Chamber of Commerce of Fontaine, though the Fontainian system had a much wider array of tools to secure compliance. You wondered whether Inazuma’s long history of isolation had discouraged the Tri-Commission from seeking a more efficient arrangement.

“But we’ve survived worse and we will survive this too. I’m assuming you didn’t come just to hear about the intricacies of our government?” Togou prompted.

Oh, if only he knew.

“Yes, I actually came to pick up copper for Yoimiya.”

“Oh, so you’ve been helping her? No wonder she placed the order ahead of time then.”

Hajime retrieved a medium-sized wooden crate filled almost to the brim with the mineral. The crate was small enough that you could carry it with one arm if you pressed the crate against your hip, but it was heavy enough for that to be unadvisable, especially considering the stairs you would need to take. You did not miss Hajime’s staring at you in case you were unable to handle the weight, but he looked away lest you snapped at him.

The order had already been paid for, so you bid master and apprentice farewell and made your way back to Naganohara Fireworks. As you had predicted, the stairs were a bit tricky. Holding the crate in front of you with your two hands on the bottom meant you could not see the steps ahead of you very well. You stayed close to the railing and climbed up slowly.

The streets had been quiet that afternoon, which is how the sound of frantic male voices getting closer reached you so clearly.

“Have you seen it?”

“Bro, how could you have lost it?!”

“I-it’s not my fault! Genta wanted to have a look and I-”

“Hey, look! It’s over there!”

A few things happened in succession.

Four men suddenly turned a corner and appeared at the top of the stairs you were climbing up. In that first glimpse, the only thing you could notice about them was the mix of relief and excitement in each of their faces.

That unexpected appearance did not deter your ascent in any way. There was no reason to. In fact, you were already midway through a step, gravity and inertia working together to bring your foot down.

You felt something crack under your left shoe and your foot slipped. You caught yourself on the railing, almost dropping the crate in the process. When you raised your eyes again, the men’s expressions had morphed into ones of pure terror.

“NOOOOOOOOOOO!”

With some difficulty, you moved the crate to the side and glanced at your feet. There lay a squished purple beetle, its antennas twitching before the final breaths of life left its body. When you looked up again, one of the men was on his knees, holding his head like he was going to cry at any second. Another was doing a poor attempt at consoling the first one and the two others were pointing their fingers angrily at you.

“How dare you kill the boss’s favorite onikabuto!”

“Yeah, you’re going to have to pay for that! Nobody messes with the Arataki Gang!”

At these words, your grip on the crate tightened. Dealing with gangs was always a troublesome affair. They were arrogant, entitled, and could really make it difficult to operate in certain areas, preventing people from talking or downright eliminating those who they thought could be snitches.

None of the reports prepared before your departure had mentioned any particular gang operating in Narukami Island, let alone in Inazuma City. Nor had you heard anything during the period you had already spent in the country – almost a month by now. Two immediate possibilities arose. They were so dangerous that the locals were afraid of breathing even a word about their activities. Or they were idiots.

You eyed the men in front of you. Three of them wore dark purple conic hats with a red symbol on them that resembled a bull. Strangely, none of them seemed to carry weapons. The one who was tending to the leader was holding several leaves on paper on one arm. As for the leader… he was certainly a unique sight. Long white hair, two blood-red horns sprouting from the top of his head, equally red eyes, and a long sleeveless coat decorated with purples, blacks, reds, and oranges. You had heard about the existence of youkai in Inazuma, but you had no idea what he was. A bright Geo Vision hung from a choker around his neck.

The white-haired man finally noticed you were staring and made a motion as if to wipe tears from his eyes – though he could not truly be crying because of a bug, surely not. His expression shifted into one of angry resolution as he jumped to his feet and glared at you.

“Well, homie, looks like we’ve got a score to settle.”

You started to put the crate down and your hands up, trying to look as innocent as possible. Your daggers were well hidden in pockets inside your shirt, but using them in the middle of the city would certainly blow your cover. The most efficient route, even if annoying, was to play it like Hitomi would.

“I apologize for any inconvenience caused.”

Your reaction seemed to take the man aback. He blinked, surprised, but quickly hit it behind a cough.

“And that is very well, a respectable response that, of course, I am used to receiving. But I am afraid that an apology is not enough. You see, the beetle you recklessly crushed was my prized onikabuto, the Mauve Tempest.”

You could not help a frown. “Prized?”

The man’s cheeks flushed red at once. “Okay, okay, maybe he hadn’t won any prizes yet, but he was going to kick butts at next week’s Grand Onikabuto Tournament. AND! Because he was such a prized possession, you owe me compensation. Don’t- don’t try to argue your way out of this,” he added upon seeing you open your mouth. “We have a legal advisor in our gang, we know what we are talking about.”

“Compensation. For a bug,” you repeated slowly, as though that would make the request sound less absurd. It did not. “And just how much would that compensation be?”

“Uh…” The man looked like he had never given that a thought. Behind him, the trio overtly whispered.

“Ask for a decent amount, boss!”

“Yeah! Revenge for the Mauve Tempest!”

“And maybe we can use some of the money to have those new drinks at Uyuu Restaurant…”

“Oh, yes, yes, right,” their leader nodded, his bravado promptly returning. “By my calculations… 50,000 Mora should cut it.”

You stared at the man, looking for any traces of a veiled threat, or perhaps a twisted joke. You found none. That settled it for you. They were idiots after all. And yet, one of those idiots had a Vision. Celestia truly was unfair to you.

Faced with such a predicament, you could only have one reaction, which was fortunately in line with your cover and your own selfish desires at that moment. You doubled over with laughter. It was refreshing, really. Your time in Inazuma had been quite stressful and you were grateful for the opportunity to laugh freely.

Sadly, the men did not understand the humor behind it all. They exchanged quizzical looks while red blush spread across the leader’s face.

“Hey, don’t- don’t laugh like that! I know my rights! It’s either that or you help me catch another winning onikabuto!”

As your laughter died down, you put your hands on your hips and schooled your expression into a serious one.

“Why stop at that?” you asked, intoning a proposal. “Why not have me pay for the Mauve Tempest’s funeral? No, better yet. Have me tried for murder.”

The man paled. “Wait, can we do that? No, no, that would be too harsh! I mean, it was kind of an accident, right?”

“Come on, call the doushin over, I will not resist the arrest. How does that sound?”

The typical Fontainian passive-aggressive sarcasm was not widely practiced – or appreciated – in Teyvat. Still, it was usually recognized by its absurdity. This man, however, seemed to take your words at face value. He looked around nervously, trying to get some guidance from his crew, but the other three looked just as apprehensive as he did.

Finally, the man turned to you, gesturing with his hands for you not to make any harsh decisions.

“Hey, bro, no need to go that far. I mean, we’re not having you go to jail for something like that.”

“Of course not. The penalty for murder is execution after all.”

You did not even know whether that was true in Inazuma, but that was enough to cause the man to shriek.

“What? Hang on there! No one is getting executed!”

“No, it’s as you said. You know your rights. Gotta face the consequences of my actions, right?”

“Wait, bro, calm down,” he urged, climbing down the steps until he was right in front of you. “There’s no need to take it this far. I mean, you should be more careful when walking around, but I guess I shouldn’t have lost sight of the Mauve Tempest either…”

“Oh, so that was how it ended up here?”

“Yeah, the guys and I were trying to teach him to do a backflip, but then Genta said he wanted to take him to the statue at the Tenshuukaku and that’s when he flew away.”

“Fascinating. You release a beetle in the middle of the streets of Inazuma’s biggest city and then try to blame innocent passersby for your own negligence.”

“Yeah, we- wait.” The man halted, only then starting to process your words. You snorted, a smug smirk spreading across your lips.

“Look, this was fun, thank you. Truly. But I don’t have time for whatever this is.” You bent down, picked up the copper crate, and continued your way up.

The three men at the top looked at you incredulously, then back at their boss, then back at you. That was enough to snap the white-haired man out of his trance.

“Hey, wait up! You can’t use my words against me like that!” he yelled, trailing behind you.

As amusing as that small exchange had been, any prolongation threatened to end your famously short patience. You thus opted to ignore him, surmising that would make the man give up and go bother another soul soon enough. It did not.

“Don’t leave me hanging! No one tricks me like that and just walks off! Hey! Heeeey! You know what? I challenge you to a duel! The loser has to get the winner five- no, ten winning onikabuto!”

Behind him followed the members of the so-called gang, shouting words of encouragement and what seemed to be attempts to threaten you. You would have been content to continue ignoring them if not for the fact that people on the street were staring. It was impossible to pretend that it was not you they were harassing. You started to consider accepting the challenge and disposing of his body somewhere inconspicuous.

Before you could give this alternative any serious consideration, another voice pierced the air.

“ARATAKI ITTO!”

They all turned to the sound of the voice. A few meters from behind them came a woman dressed in a pink kimono with a light brown overcoat and short brown hair, holding a broom. You recognized her as Aoi from Tsukumomono Groceries. The look of sheer fury in the eyes of the soft-spoken woman was something new entirely, though.

“How many times do I have to tell you and your gang to keep your flyers away from my shop?”

One of the men with the hats, the one in a brown shirt, clumsily tried to hide the leaves of paper he was holding. The leader, Itto, did not seem preoccupied, however.

“Hehe, don’t worry! This time, we got the permit from the Yashiro Commission to advertise our gang around the city. Show her, boys.”

The three men exchanged anxious looks amongst themselves.

“Well… Akira was supposed to have done this…”

“But we spent all our Mora in printing the flyers and didn’t have enough to pay for the permit fee…”

“What?”

“Sorry, boss!” the three chorused, clasping their hands together and bowing their heads in submission. Now Itto looked concerned. And Aoi looked livid.

“That’s it! I’m through with your disrespect! I’m reporting you five to the Tenryou Commission!”

You sighed in relief. Finally those idiots were getting out of your hair. You could continue your way to-

Wait. Did Aoi say five?

“Wait, ma’am,” You called, your voice squeaking a bit from the sudden desperation. “I am not involved with them, I don’t even know-”

But Aoi was past the point of listening.

“This is the last time you mess with my business!” the woman cried, raising the broom up in their direction.

The men squealed in terror and quickly dashed off in the opposite direction. You yourself were taking a few careful steps backwards, stuttering as you tried to reason with the shop owner. That was when you felt something yanking your arm that was not occupied with the copper crate and your feet sweeping across the cobblestones.

“Can’t talk to her when she gets like this. Let’s go!” Arataki Itto said as he ran after his men, dragging you with him.

You stumbled and almost fell to the ground, but Itto pulled you up in a way that you knew was going to leave your arm sore the following day. You tried to pull away from him, but the man was indeed strong. You had no option but to fall into step with him, though you were determined not to go peacefully.

“What the fuck? Hey, let me go, I gotta go back to work!”

As if to emphasize your point, the crate started to slip from under your arm. You would not be able to hold it and keep running for much longer.

Itto noticed and, in a surprisingly swift movement, pulled the crate away from you and accommodated it under his arm. A few pieces of copper fell out in the process, but he ignored your infuriated protests. He was much larger than you and thus managed to keep up the pace while carrying the crate without much difficulty.

You turned right after passing the Adventurer’s Guild and then right again, reaching a wooden platform where the streets ended. Itto kept dragging you down the steps until you reached a field to the west of Inazuma City, near a small cliff that led to the beach. It was only then that Itto released his grip on you, raising his hand to wipe a nonexistent coat of sweat from his forehead.

“Oof, that was a close call. Aoi can be really scary when she’s angry. I don’t see the guys, though… Hopefully they’ve found a good place to hide.”

Your hands flew to the collar of his coat, lowering his face towards your furious scowl.

“What in the name of the Seven were you thinking?” you snarled. “Now everyone will think I’m part of your group! I can’t have the Tenryou Commission after me!”

“Oi, relax, bro. You look like you ate a bad sea-cucumber or something,” Itto started, using one hand to swat yours away. “First of all, it’s not a ‘group’. It’s the Arataki Gang, the baddest, raddest bunch of good-doers in all of Inazuma. Second, Aoi always says that, but she never tells on us. Now, if it were Nanatsuki, then we would probably need Shinobu to bail us out.”

“I can’t bet my luck that. You go back there and tell her I’m not part of this gang.”

“Hah, of course you’re not! We only take the coolest, most versatile, and highly skilled individuals in the market. Even Lumine didn’t make the first cut. If you want to join us, you are going to have to prove yourself first. And the way to do that… is to repay your debt to me and help me find an onikabuto worth dying for.”

You almost answered that you could imagine nothing more pleasant than finding such a bug and ensuring that Itto would actually die in the process, but you feared he would not understand the sarcasm. Especially since you yourself were not sure how much of that statement was sarcastic. Instead, you reiterated a point he seemed to have missed.

“I have zero intention of joining your gang. And if you refuse to come, I will just go back to Aoi myself and explain that we don’t know each other.”

His eyes widened. “Wait. You don’t know me? You’ve never heard of Arataki the Onincredible Itto? The Dashing Red Hurricane? What kind of rock have you been living under?”

“One that I regret leaving, that’s for sure,” you groaned.

“Well, now that I think about it, I don’t think I’ve seen you around before either. So I will just assume you are new in the city and let it slide this time. But now you know not to mess with the Arataki Gang.”

“Yeah, sure. Whatever gets you off my hair.” You felt a sliver of hope at the expectation that nightmare of a conversation was coming to an end. At least now you knew to avoid that man. It would not be too hard, flashy as he was. All you needed to do was go back and convince Aoi and everyone else who had witnessed the earlier ruckus that you were not associated to the loud buffoon and his minions.

At that moment, Itto suddenly widened his eyes, staring at something behind you. Or, more precisely, below the cliff.

“Oh, that’s a big one!” Itto exclaimed in a hushed tone and jumped down without thinking twice.

Craning your neck, you saw what had captured Itto’s attention so completely. An onikabuto resting on a small rock by the sea. Unsurprisingly, the thud with which the oni fell on the beach was enough to scare the beetle, which flew away to another set of rocks nearby. Itto chased after it, his tiptoeing rendered useless from the way his feet splashed in the water, making the onikabuto aware of all of his movements and able to dodge any advances.

This was, of course, the perfect cue for you to spin on your heels and carry on with your day. If not for one distressing detail. That idiot was still holding the copper crate.

That was how you found yourself running after Itto, screaming profanities that he ignored, single-mindedly focused on capturing the elusive beetle. You could see that some chunks of copper were falling out, but you would worry about that later.

Although Itto’s legs were longer than yours, you were quicker and determined to have at least a small win that day. Eventually, you got close enough to tackle him, grabbing his legs and causing him to trip. The onikabuto continued to fly away until it was no longer visible.

“Aw, come on! You’re really a bad cucumber, you know that? I almost had it!”

“You were stealing my copper, blockhead!” you hissed, getting to your feet. Itto raised his eyebrows, as if only now noticing the crate under his arm. At least he had the decency of looking slightly embarrassed as he raised his arm and you yanked the crate from under him.

A wave of relief washed over you. Finally you could get your day back on track. Take the ore to Yoimiya and get the novel for Ryuunosuke.

That was what you had thought, until you looked inside the crate.

“Itto. What happened to the copper?”

The two of you stared into the empty crate and then back to the way you had come from. A trail of copper lay scattered on the sand, some chunks even starting to be carried away by the waves. You groaned, bending down to pick up the pieces of ore. You hoped not much would be lost, or else you feared Yoimiya might deduct it from your salary.

To your surprise, Itto followed you, picking up chunks of copper and throwing them into the crate.

“You know, you could have told me you needed the copper without scaring off the onikabuto.”

“I did! You didn’t listen!”

“What? Well, maybe you didn’t say it loud enough. It doesn’t help if you just mumble.”

“You will be the one mumbling after I knock your teeth off.”

“Hoho, is that a challenge I hear? Don’t think I will go easy on you!”

“Oh, shit.”

“That’s right! The name Arataki Itto does strike fear into your heart, uh?”

“No, you brainless goat. That shit.”

The trail of copper ended abruptly near a small cave indented into the cliff. There were some bushes around the entrance, but the space was large enough for them to see farther into its interior. There lay a rudimentary Hilichurl camp, with a small bonfire and some wooden crates spread around. Three Hilichurls danced around the fire, throwing their hands up and clicking chunks of metal against one another. Copper, to be exact.

On top of some boxes to the left side of the cavern were around fifteen other chunks of copper – most of what had been missing. And beside those boxes, watching the dance unfold with a rather relaxed demeanor, was a Mitachurl. A stone shield in brown and orange hues lay on the sand by his right side.

You were baffled by your string of bad luck. The Hilichurls must have been attracted by the noise of Itto’s misadventure and grabbed some of the ore they found along the way. If it had been just the Hilichurls, you would have stormed in, beaten them up, and recovered the copper. But dealing with a Rock Shieldwall Mitachurl was something else. Your daggers were severely inadequate to deal with this kind of enemy. Alone, without a Vision, that would be asking for a painful death.

Yet, you could not simply return to Yoimiya empty-handed. You could not jeopardize your only contact with the Kamisatos, meager as it was.

“Those furry little rascals!” Itto exclaimed, causing you to yelp in surprise. Thankfully, it had not been loud enough for the creatures to hear. “Alright, bro, let me knock them out.”

You ducked and yanked Itto’s arm so he came down with you. Now both of you were reasonably hidden in the nearby shrubbery. You turned to him with a glare.

“I’m not your bro! My name is Hitomi. And you can’t just charge in there, it could damage the ore.” It could damage my bones, which is worse, you thought.

“So what’s the plan?”

“The plan is you get out of my way, go chase your bugs or whatever stupid thing you have planned, and I deal with this my way.”

Itto rolled his eyes. “Oh please, Hitomi,” he spat your alias as if it were an insult. “Like you can go up against all of those Hilichurls by yourself.”

You clenched your fists, wishing his throat were around them. “Just watch. In silence.”

With that, you crouched down further and started to step into the cave behind the bushes.

You would not be able to recover all of the ore, unfortunately. But the monsters were distracted enough that at least the chunks left on the boxes could be filched, if you were stealthy enough. And stealth was indeed one of your specialties.

In performing their odd dance, the Hilichurls were also chanting, alternating guttural sounds with the clinking of the metal chunks. From time to time, the Mitachurl gave a small clap, as if amused. You timed your movements so that the ensuing sounds would be muffled by the monsters’ noises. Each step was light and calculated. There was a gap between the bushes and the nearest boxes. You waited for some moments until the Hilichurls twirled and you rolled behind the boxes, hoping you had been quick enough not to be seen.

The Mitachurl grumbled and shifted into place. You held your breath, trying to force your heart to stop thumping so loudly. The Mitachurl turned its head from side to side. One glance down and he would see you. And then it would be a matter of how fast you could run. Probably not fast enough.

Now that you thought about it, perhaps this had not been your smartest move. Yoimiya should forgive you if you lost the ore, especially since the whole imbroglio had been Itto’s fault. You would find a way to pay her back. Even if Yoimiya fired you, at least you would be alive to infiltrate the Kamisato Clan another day. If that Mitachurl caught you, you would not be so lucky.

The Mitachurl slumped its shoulders and resumed its appreciation of the dance. You slowly let out the breath you had been holding. Whatever had bothered it had nothing to do with you. You were safe. All that was left to do was to snatch the ore and make your way back.

Unfortunately, someone else was there to misinterpret the Mitachurl’s actions.

“Watch out, Bad Cucumber-bro! Duck!”

At the sound of Itto’s voice, the Hilichurls stopped their dance and the Mitachurl jumped to its feet, grabbing its shield. As it did so, the Mitachurl looked down, eyes immediately falling on you. You barely had time to breathe before rolling to the right to avoid a swing of the Mitachurl’s shield.

The wooden boxes broke apart and you saw smaller pieces of copper flying around. You made a mental note to start a hit list and to add Arataki Itto’s name to the first spot of that list.

The Mitachurl raised its shield for another swing. This time, you did not have enough room to dodge. You raised your arms in front of your face, steeling yourself for a very painful blow. Instead, all you felt were small chips of stone flying as an enormous claymore, painted in gold, black and red, collided against the shield. The hit was enough to send the Mitachurl stumbling back a few feet. Itto flashed you a victorious smirk.

“It’s show time!”

With that battle cry, Itto swung his claymore once more, hitting the Mitachurl squarely on the face. An orange light accompanied the blow – Geo energy. With a few more of those, the shield should break. Lucky bastard.

Itto’s intervention gave you the opening you needed to run to the center of the cave, where you had more room to maneuver. The Hilichurls were scrambling to pick up sticks and clubs to join the fight. Without wasting another moment, you pulled your daggers from your pockets and lunged at the Hilichurls, slashing violently at their ribs and necks.

The first Hilichurl fell on its back and you took the opportunity to carve a knife on its chest. It gave one last spasm before its limbs dropped to the ground. Another Hilichurl cried out and, picking up a wooden club from the ground, ran madly in your direction. You avoided the attack easily, stepping to the side, and slashed at the Hilichurl’s back.

A sharp pain erupted from the back of your hand, almost making you drop the dagger. The third Hilichurl had found a crossbow and the arrow had grazed you. Before it could recharge, though, you were already jumping at it, kicking it into the wall of the cave and making it drop the crossbow with a swipe of your daggers.

Behind you, you could hear Itto laughing and heavy blows being exchanged. The ground trembled slightly as the oni released another wave of Geo energy. You trusted him to keep the Mitachurl occupied while you disposed of the two remaining Hilichurls.

That happened swiftly enough. After disarming the crossbow-wielding Hilichurl, you swept a leg under it, tripping it to the ground, and finished the job with a slash at its throat. The last Hilichurl charged at you again, but you spun around and threw a dagger, which hit the center of its mask. The Hilichurl’s body went limp and dropped instantaneously.

You turned around just in time to see Itto slash his claymore against the Mitachurl’s stomach. The blow was fatal and the creature fell to its back, moving no more. Itto turned back to you with a victorious grin.

“OHOO! That was refreshing! Nice teamwork, Hitomi-homie!”

The adrenaline from the battle made your blood rise even faster.

“Teamwork? You almost got me killed! I was going to take the copper stealthily, but you ruined my cover!”

“I think what you are trying to say is: ‘Oh, thank you, Itto, for saving my life! You are so strong and brilliant, I’m so grateful!’ After all, that’s what happened!”

“What happened is that you ruined my copper chunks!” You gestured to the ore scattered around the cave. Most of the pieces were severely chipped.

“Well, that is… uh…” Itto stammered. You could see the gears turning into his head like Fontainian clockwork, trying to figure out a solution. “It’s not so bad, right? I mean, most of it is in pretty good shape, so no losses!”

“There had better not be,” a sharp voice echoed from behind you.

You and Itto turned to the entrance of the cave, startled to find a green-haired woman clad in purple with the lower half of her face covered by a black mask. Her arms were crossed in front of her chest and her lilac eyes gleamed dangerously towards Itto. He gulped loudly.

“Oh hey, Shinobu! Nice to see you here! I’ve been meaning to ask your help with the preparations for-”

“Why,” she interrupted, causing Itto to flinch at her steely tone. You had to fight a smirk from spreading across your lips. “Is it that I was harassed by a hysterical Aoi about unauthorized flyers around her shop? And why do I come to find you and hear that you’ve damaged someone else’s goods?”

“This is- erm, you see… So, this is Hitomi. We got into a bit of an argument because she crushed the Mauve Tempest-”

“I did not crush that stupid bug,” you hissed, only to be ignored by Itto.

“-but then we ran into a little problem with the ore she was carrying, and I helped her retrieve it by taking care of these Hilichurls. So, as you can see, another day of good work by the Arataki Gang!”

Shinobu pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. You could see from her expression that she was not unaccustomed to that sort of situation.

“Ugh, Boss…” Shinobu shook her head and finally turned to you. She bowed her head respectfully. “I am very sorry about the trouble he caused. Please rest assure that you will be fully compensated for any and all losses. Right, Boss?”

“Right. Yeah. Of course!” Itto quickly agreed. “The Arataki Gang never shies away from its responsibilities!”

Shinobu held out a piece of paper and placed it on Your hand. Looking at it more closely, you saw it was a namecard.

“My name is Kuki Shinobu. I am the deputy leader of the Arataki Gang. If you need any assistance or if you have, erm, criticisms about the conduct of our members, please reach out to me and I will sort it out as quickly as possible.”

The woman spoke with the confidence and fluency of someone who had given that speech a hundred times before. You could not help but feel a pang of pity for her and wonder why she was second in command to someone like Itto. Yet, it was not the first time you saw an incompetent leader who had only managed to survive for so long due to an extraordinary assistant.

“Now, Boss, how about we go back to Tsukumomono Groceries so you and the guys can clean up the place and put Aoi in a better mood?” Despite the inflexion at the end, Shinobu’s tone made it clear that that was not a question. Itto quickly nodded.

You let out a sigh, looking around at the copper you still had to collect. It was not even mid-afternoon and your day had already turned into quite a mess. As you organized your priorities in your mind, you almost missed Itto’s next sentence.

“Can’t we go a bit later, Shinobu? I really, really need a winning onikabuto for the tournament if I want to beat Bro Ayato.”

You froze.

You knew one person in Inazuma with that name. It could be a coincidence; it could be someone else. But how common was the name ‘Ayato’ anyway? Perhaps it was now trending among Inazuman children.

Yet, one glance at Shinobu and how her confident countenance dissipated, head shaking and eyes wide in a silent plea for you not to say a word, told you that you had not been mistaken. Arataki Itto was planning a beetle fight with the Yashiro Commissioner.

Chapter Text

“Not another step!”

You could not have taken one even if you had wanted to. The entire floor was covered by books, scribbled pieces of paper, charts, and pencil drawings. If you had not known in advance, you would not have been able to tell the color of the wood tiles beneath them. Baptiste would sometimes mutter about how Karina was going to give him a stroke any day, but he had given up on expressly scolding her for the chaotic state of her work.

Craning your neck to get a better view, you saw the drawing of what seemed to be a young boy with dark skin, only one leg, and a cap on his head. The mischievous smile on his face was crooked due to the pipe hanging from it. It did not look like a Fontainian entity. Nevertheless, you could not be sure. The notes underneath the drawing had been written in Karina’s special code, one that you had not had the time nor the interest to decipher. Karina only used that for her personal research, after all.

So instead of asking, you said simply, “The food is getting cold.”

A few seconds went by without any reaction. Karina continued to scribble at her desk as though she had not heard anything. Then, her head suddenly shot up.

“I can’t eat garlic,” she said, without turning to look at you.

“Good thing I stopped Elke from adding it to your plate, then.”

That had prompted another wave of complaints from Elke on how Baptiste was too indulgent on Karina’s fancies, which the man expertly ignored. It had been two weeks since Karina had announced that some of the creatures she was researching had low tolerance to garlic and thus that she would be cutting it from her diet until further notice, lest her chances of finding those creatures be harmed.

Upon hearing the news, Karina spun on her chair and smiled at you with an excited gleam in her green eyes.

“You’re the best, [Y/N]. I will be sure to mention your name in the acknowledgements for my dissertation. Not at the top, because that space is reserved for, you know, my family, my professors, and life inspirations… But not so much at the bottom either! Maybe… after Barbara the Idol, for her inspiring music? Uhm. Sounds about right.”

You chose not to comment on Karina’s doubtful musical taste, nor on how unlikely it was that her dissertation would be approved while her face was stamped on wanted posters all over Sumeru. Considering how the Akademiya treated their researchers, they should be wondering why more of them had not stabbed their supervisors with a compass instead of chasing down one who had.

Karina tiptoed towards you, careful not to displace any of the papers on the floor. She bent down and picked up the drawing you had been staring at.

“Did you know that Sacis can create small hurricanes that engulf them and allow them to flee danger? Not much has been written on them, so I am still trying to figure out to what extent they can manipulate Anemo energy.”

“So, they are elementals? Like specters?”

“What? No,” Karina scoffed. “Sacis have far superior rational capacities. I believe they resemble oceanids more closely, though they are more adaptable. There are some old theories saying that they evolved from wind elementals that were driven out of Mondstadt during Decarabian’s rule. I’m trying to convince Baptiste to send me to Natlan so that I can collect some samples.”

You nodded quietly, heading to the kitchen. You hoped you would not get assignments in Natlan any time soon. You still remembered what had become of Karina’s last samples, when you learned that Seelies could scream.

In the two hours that had elapsed since you had made Itto’s acquaintance, you had come to the unexpected conclusion that he was a fascinating individual. First, you had never met anyone with so little self-awareness. It was as astonishing as it was annoying. Amurta researchers from the Akademiya should pay a hefty sum for an opportunity to study his brain. You would bring up the idea with Baptiste later.

Second, he was very strong. Not only physically, but he seemed to have very good control over his Vision. He had not broken a sweat over that Mitachurl and, if given the chance, you knew he would have wiped out the three Hilichurls in one blow. That was something to keep in mind.

Third, and most important. He was friends with Kamisato Ayato.

“So he doesn’t know that Ayato is the Yashiro Commissioner?” you asked, fighting to keep your voice a whisper despite your incredulity. Beside you, Shinobu sighed and shook her head.

Itto walked a few meters ahead of you, attention focused on spotting other onikabuto on the way to Inazuma City. He had completely forgotten about his previous insistence on compensation for the death of the Mauve Tempest, probably afraid of what Shinobu would do if she heard of his misuse of legal concepts.

Initially, you would have taken such an opportunity to abscond as quickly as possible and keep away from the oni for the rest of your life. Now, you were coming to see that your tumultuous encounter may have been a blessing in disguise. A very elaborate disguise.

“I don’t know how it happened, it was before I joined the Gang,” Shinobu explained in a low voice. “But the Boss never made the connection between Ayato and the Kamisato Clan. To him, the Commissioner is just some guy who likes to watch beetle fights every once in a while.”

Your eyes widened at each word. That was nothing like the description of the Yashiro Commissioner you had gotten, both before and after coming to Inazuma. Kamisato Ayato was well-known for his reclusive yet diligent behavior. He was rarely ever seen in public and preferred to deal with government affairs rather than cultural ones, which he delegated to his sister. Though his activities were less well-known than those of the Shirasagi Himegimi to the general public, the handful of officials that you had found who had dealt with the Commissioner described his work as nothing short of exemplary. To think that this man enjoyed beetle fights and cavorted with Arataki Itto almost felt like sacrilege.

“I met him once and he asked me not to reveal his identity to Itto,” Shinobu continued. “He seemed to find the situation… amusing, I guess. In any event, he rarely comes around and when he does, they usually go to places where there are not many people who can out him.”

“But he will come next week?” you pressed, silently hoping Shinobu would take your reaction as nothing more than love for gossip.

“That’s what the Boss has been saying. Frankly, I would find it hard to believe had I not seen it with my own eyes last time.”

“This is…” Incredible. Auspicious. A chance in a million. “Weird.”

Shinobu let out a dry chuckle. “Took the words off my mouth.”

You may not have known exactly how to put that information to use, but you knew a mine of Mora when you saw one. Gaining access to the Yashiro Commissioner was a much surer way of infiltrating the Kamisato Estate than relying on his elusive housekeeper. You had to take advantage of this newly-forged link with the Arataki Gang.

“By the way, you told me to find you if I have any other unexpected run-ins on your boss. Where should I look for you?”

“We are usually around Hanamizaka. If you don’t find us there, leave a message with Kiminami Anna and we will reply as soon as possible.”

You frowned. “I’ve been in Hanamizaka for the past few weeks and I’ve never seen you around.”

“The Boss and I took a trip to Liyue and we’ve just gotten back,” Shinobu explained.

“What was it like?” you inquired with genuine interest. Liuye was the only nation in Teyvat you had never been to and the one you were most curious about, for various reasons.

“It was… eventful.” Shinobu considered her words carefully. “We made interesting friends, though.”

Before you could decide on whether or not to press further, you heard a loud cry coming from Itto.

“I CAUGHT A BIG ONE! Shinobu, look! This is even bigger than the Mauve Tempest! Haha, Mamoru’s beetle is going to eat dust. I shall dub you… The Violet Avenger. No. The Supreme Violet Avenger. That has a nice ring to it.”

The two of you craned your heads forward to get a better look at the small purple insect on Itto’s hand. If it were not for the slight movement of its antennae, you would have doubted it was alive.

“It doesn’t look very vengeful,” you remarked. Itto pulled the bug away from you in a protective gesture, possibly still deeming you partially responsible for the death of the Mauve Tempest.

“That just serves to show how little you know about onikabuto. Fortunately, I have had years to hone my skills. These eyes can recognize a champion killing machine when they see one.”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. If you were going to take advantage of Itto’s connection to the Yashiro Commissioner, you had to start working on resolving the animosity between the two of you.

“Hum… It is bigger than the last one…” You had no idea whether that was true, since your only glimpse of the Mauve Tempest had been its squished form under your shoe. Still, Itto nodded eagerly, seeming content by your recognition.

“Better keep this one safe until you finish cleaning up Tsukumomono Groceries, Boss,” Shinobu said in a tone that sounded more like an order than a suggestion. “Aoi said she had many orders to attend to and needed all of the flyers gone as soon as possible.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure,” Itto nodded absent-mindedly as he caressed the Supreme Violet Avenger’s head with his index finger. You were not so sure that the beetle would survive until the tournament.

You parted ways after Shinobu reiterated the promise to reimburse Naganohara Fireworks for the lost copper. Itto seemed strangely less remorseful about the whole affair after hearing that you worked for Yoimiya, but a glare from Shinobu was enough to shut down any comments from him. One more thing for you to keep your ears up for, apparently.

Yoimiya had not even noticed you had been gone for so long, enthralled as she was on another invention of hers – turtle-shaped aquatic fireworks. You quickly explained the ordeal you had been put through by the Arataki Gang and Shinobu’s intervention. Yoimiya laughed and shook her head fondly when you mentioned Itto, well aware of what kind of character he was. When it came to your encounter with the Hilichurl camp, however, her expression changed.

“Are you okay?” Yoimiya blurted out, eyes wide.

“Yeah, I managed to recover most of the copper. Judging from how much lighter the crate is right now, I estimate our loss in about twenty percent.”

“No- I mean, great, but that’s beside the point! Are you hurt?”

Before you could answer, Yoimiya was already taking your arms and scanning your body in search of injuries. The intensity of Yoimiya’s reaction surprised you.

“I’m fine, Itto took care of them.” You did not want Yoimiya to know that you were also capable in a fight. It was not ideal that Itto had seen it, but hopefully his attention would be too focused on the onikabuto tournament to make use of that information.

“Thank the Archons!” Yoimiya breathed, putting a hand on her chest. “If I had known that you would have gone through so much work… I swear, I’m giving Itto an earful next time I see him! We can deal with him and the copper issue later. For now, maybe you should take the rest of the day off.”

“Yoimiya, it’s fine. I haven’t even gotten the book for your dad yet.”

“You can get it tomorrow. You have to take care of yourself, Hitomi! Facing Hilichurls like that is really stressful! Especially for someone who is not used to fighting.”

Right. Hitomi was not used to fighting. Hitomi had grown up serving some of Fontaine’s most prestigious families. Hitomi would probably accept Yoimiya’s kind offer. Besides, that would give you some more time to think about your newfound connection to the Yashiro Commissioner and how to exploit that.

With that reasoning, you thanked Yoimiya and prepared to return to Konda Village.

You were leaving the shop when a man with shoulder-length wavy dark blue hair in a loose lilac silk shirt passed you by. He did not look at you or acknowledge your presence in any visible way. He did not need to. You would have recognized him anywhere, just as he would have you. This was his way of letting you know that he was there and that you needed to talk.

Suppressing a groan, you followed him from a distance. You should have known your contact would be him. This was too high level a job for Baptiste to send anyone else. Still, you had hoped that perhaps another important assignment had come up during your absence. Or that he had choked on a sunsettia and ended up with the entire left side of his body paralyzed. Either one would work.

You told yourself to be optimistic. It had been over two months since you had last seen each other. And Baptiste had chosen you for that job, not him. Maybe that would have deflated his ego a bit.

Those hopes vanished as soon as you followed Sylvain into a secluded alley and found him leaning against a wall with a smug smirk on his lips and rehearsed words of greeting:

“The Kamisato Estate sure looks different from the descriptions we got, huh?”

You fumed, shooting Sylvain a venomous glare. “I ran into a few obstacles.”

“A few? Don’t be modest.” He leaned in your direction, looking down on you. “It’s been a month. And you are playing with pyrotechnics?”

“The Takatsukasas didn’t fulfil their end of the bargain. The Kamisatos were no longer hiring when I got there."

The smirk faded from his lips.

“Shit.”

“Yeah. Shit.”

“Tell me everything.”

You quickly briefed him of the events following your arrival in Inazuma. The way you had kept your cover in Konda Village, chased Mitsue out of the country, and gotten close to one of the Kamisatos’ closest business partners. Finally, you told him about youe run-in with the Arataki Gang and the new lead on Kamisato Ayato, glossing over the unimportant details – you did not want him to start making jokes about your slaughter of the Mauve Tempest.

Sylvain listened in silence, his golden eyes betraying no emotion as he weighed the details of your account. You could almost see the gears and cogs turning around in his brain. After you were done, he remained silent for a couple of seconds.

“And how do you plan on using this connection to Kamisato Ayato?” he eventually inquired.

That was the big question, was it not? The one you still had no answer for. Sylvain promptly noticed it.

“There are too many new variables at stake. We need time to reassess. Infiltration might not be the best tactic right now. Or keeping you in the front lines.”

The suggestion that you might be removed from the job made your blood boil. You knew those words had been calculated, that Sylvain was only trying to rile you up, as if his mere presence were not enough to do that. Especially since the whole Snezhnaya fiasco the previous year.

“Oh, really?” you asked, unable to contain the acidity in your tone. “And what would you propose?”

As usual, Sylvain had a response at the ready. “Gathering information on the sidelines, maybe. Consolidating it and entering the Kamisato Estate only to extract the documents.”

“That would take forever, assuming that we could piece everything together without inside information,” you countered.

“So would sticking to the infiltration, given the few ways in we have right now. We need to get moving, to have at least something to show the clients for our work.”

You shook your head. “It’s risky. The Kamisatos have an excellent security system. Have you forgotten?”

“I’m not overlooking that, just saying that we can work around it. In a few days I will-”

“This is not your call.”

Sylvain stiffened in a way that almost made you laugh. He had been getting too cocky the past year. It felt good to put him in place.

“I am the one heading the operation. Until the Croque-Mitaine says otherwise, we are sticking to the plan.”

You never said Baptiste’s name out loud outside of the headquarters, even if you were sure no one was around. This had been the first rule you had been presented with when each of you joined the organization. Only once had you seen Sylvain break it.

“I will write to him immediately,” Sylvain finally said. As much as he tried to sound nonchalant about it, you did not miss the fury burning behind his golden eyes.

“Until we have an answer, I will keep looking for a way in.”

“Just make sure you won’t block any ways out in the process.” As he said that, Sylvain pulled on a chain hanging from the front pocket of his shirt, revealing a pocket watch with a bright deep blue gem engraved on its back. You could not tear your eyes from it as he tossed the pocket watch up and caught it between his fingers. For anyone else, it would seem an absentminded nervous tick. When it came to Sylvain, though, you knew that every movement was deliberate.

You had always wondered whether the gods were taking a jab specifically at you when they gifted Sylvain with a Hydro Vision five months before. It seemed too cruel to be just a coincidence. But then again, you supposed that Celestia had made it painfully clear before that they were not interested in you.

“You’re going to misplace it if you keep playing with it like that,” you heard yourself saying. That earned you a chuckle from Sylvain.

“You would like that, wouldn’t you?”

“I would be content just with you becoming a mute.”

“As if. You would miss our conversations too much.”

There was a time when that might have been true. Now, you really wished Sylvain would just shut up and be on his way. However, you still had operational details to discuss.

“How are you going to check in on my progress?”

“I’m working with a porcelain merchant in Ritou. One of ours. We agreed that I’ll come to Inazuma City once a month to gather supplies, every first waning moon. I’ll put a sachet as an offering to the Archon Shrine in Hanamizaka.”

You nodded, needing no further explanation. You had come up with that code when you were still teenagers and Baptiste had started to pair you up more frequently. The sachet would be tied in a red, black, and white ribbon. The number of red stripes indicated in how many days you would meet. The number of white stripes indicated the time. The number of black stripes meant nothing – but, if immersed in water, those stripes would reveal messages written in a special fluorescent ink imported from Sumeru. You usually used the black stripes to communicate the meeting place, using another written code Baptiste had taught you. If you would attend the meeting, you would just take the sachet. If you could not, you would leave another one in place with a proposal for rescheduling.

That method had worked flawlessly for years – every city in Teyvat had some sort of altar where people left offerings for the gods. Even on the rare occasions that someone would be suspicious of the offerings, they would search for messages inside the sachets, completely ignoring the ribbons.

“It’s a deal then.”

Sylvain nodded. You started to take your leave, but he blocked your way with an arm. The way his eyes glinted told you just how unpleasant his next words would be.

“How is the homecoming, by the way?”

You narrowed your eyes. “I will tell you that once I’m back at headquarters. In Fontaine. Where I am from, as you well know.”

A cruel smirk danced on his lips. “Oh, come on, [Y/N]. Don’t tell me you don’t feel more connected to your roots here. It’s where your ancestors are all buried, after all.”

Yes. All of them. “The only thing I’m going to connect is my fist to your face if you don’t move right now.”

Sylvain lowered his arm, but you could feel his gaze lingering on you, savoring the impact of his words. As though he had said nothing of importance, he leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms, relaxing his posture.

“By the way, Karina told me to remind you that if you come across a kappa-”

“I am not wrestling a kappa for her,” you snapped with a tone of finality. “I don’t even think these exist.”

You spun on your heels and exited the alley, gritting your teeth as the man’s chuckles reached your ears.

You may not have had a clear plan on how to take advantage of the Arataki Gang’s connection to Kamisato Ayato, but one thing was clear: you needed to get in their good graces if you were to move forward with the job. Especially before Sylvain could get new instructions from Baptiste.

It was with that thought that the next day, after picking up volume five of ‘Princess Mina of the Fallen Nation’ for Ryuunosuke at Yae Publishing House (“I wonder if they will be able to complete the Sky Tower’s plans in this one!” he mused elatedly when you handed him the book) and organizing the accounting books, you asked Yoimiya if you could use the kitchen. The shop owner acquiesced, both intrigued and excited about what her assistant was planning.

Although you were hardly an accomplished cook, there was one recipe you had perfected over the years, especially after that job as an assistant patissière. One you used for your most self-indulgent moments and for occasionally necessary bootlicking. The traditional Fontainian madeleine butter cakes but filled with milk chocolate and a touch of white pepper. You liked to call the dish Dancing Delight.

The chocolate you found was not ideal – apparently it was not widely used in Inazuman cuisine and Tsukumomono Groceries only had the dark kind. Still, it would work. Yoimiya watched enraptured as you poured the chocolate into the fluffy dough and sprinkled the pepper. 15 minutes in the oven and they were done.

“Hitomi, wow, this is divine!” Yoimiya cried after taking the first bite.

A proud smirk came to your lips. The way Yoimiya gobbled up the little cakes reminded you of the twins’ reactions when you had first baked them. Boniface had even burned his tongue from eating too fast.

“I’m glad you like them. I was thinking of taking some to the Arataki Gang. A peace offering, after everything that happened yesterday.”

“Oh, that’s so thoughtful of you! Even though a part of me almost wishes you wouldn’t, so my dad and I can have this whole batch to ourselves… But no, don’t let me get in your way!”

With a snicker, you set five pieces of Dancing Delight aside for the Naganoharas and took the rest with you in a basket.

Finding the Arataki Gang was not difficult now that you knew what to look for. You just followed the direction of the impatient glances of passersby and the sounds of a racket. At a square with a bridge, a small waterfall, and a pond flowing into a river, you found Itto surrounded by a group of four kids. The kids barely reached Itto’s hips but the oni seemed taken aback by the way they yelled and shook their fists angrily at him.

“We won fair and square, Itto! Now pay us up!”

“Yeah! You promised!”

“W-wait a second, that was just a warm-up for the Supreme Violet Avenger! We should do four out of seven, that would be fairer,” Itto proposed, only to be answered by angry boos from the kids. You quirked an eyebrow, wondering for a moment if you really wanted to get involved in whatever mess the Arataki Gang had stirred up this time. Then, remembering Sylvain’s insufferable smirk, you decided to go forward.

“What seems to be the problem here?” you asked, directing the question to the kids – you already knew their version would be more trustworthy than Itto’s.

“Itto bet 500 Mora that his onikabuto could beat ours. We won three rounds, but he refuses to pay us!” a girl explained, shooting Itto an angry glare.

“I never refused to pay you,” cried Itto, his pitch rising an octave in indignation. “I just thought that our little championship is not over yet, so we have to keep fighting to determine the winner.”

“Liar! You just don’t want to admit that your Violet Avenger sucks!”

“First, it’s Supreme Violet Avenger to you, and second, I’m going to make you eat those words!”

You took a deep breath, fighting your instinct to just steal Itto’s wallet and toss it to the kids. Think of the job, think of the job. Instead, you opened up a sweet smile and put your basket forward.

“Well, looks like I got here just in time. Itto actually gave me the 500 Mora to buy some treats for the winners. Here, kiddos. One for each.”

The mention of treats immediately grabbed the kids’ attention. They eyed the Dancing Delights suspiciously at first, but took a bite out of the cakes. Soon enough, their expressions turned into ones of ecstasy.

“Uuum so yummy!”

“Thank you so much, Big Bro Itto!”

“Uh- You’re welcome!” Itto said with a grin. Then, to you, he whispered, “Hey, you didn’t poison these or anything, did you?”

Instead of answering, you took a cake and shoved it into Itto’s mouth. Despite an initial yelp of protest, he started munching on the madeleine and a gleeful smile took over his face.

“Oh wow, this is good! Of course, I knew that, which is why I ordered them. For the winner. So, even though our championship still hasn’t been decided, my compadre Hitomi took pity on you and gave you some. I will let this one slide, but next time I won’t be so merciful. Be sure to thank Hitomi.”

“Thank you, Big Sis Hitomi!” the children chorused, licking their fingers sticky with chocolate. Content enough with their prize, the kids decided to invest their energy into something more profitable than confronting Itto and dashed off.

You eyed Itto sideways. “The Supreme Violet Avenger has been giving you some trouble?”

“He has performance anxiety, that’s all. In a few days, he’ll get used to it,” the oni said confidently, completely missing the sarcasm in your tone. “Anyway, thanks for the save, bro. Which begs the question… why did you help me out?”

Why, oh why indeed.

“I just wanted to apologize for all the confusion yesterday and give us a fresh start.” You motioned for Itto to take another cake, which he did with satisfaction.

“Apology accepted. You know, I get it, some people react badly to situations of stress. But if you hadn’t killed the Mauve Tempest, I wouldn’t have gotten the Supreme Violet Avenger, so I guess we’re even! By the Archons, these are so good. Where did you get them?”

“I made them myself. A Fontainian recipe.”

“Do you have more of those?” Itto asked, eyeing the basket now with only two Dancing Delights left. “The Gang would love them.”

A sudden idea popped up in your mind.

“Sorry, I’ve already used up all the ingredients… But I could make more next week. Oh, why don’t I make some for the onikabuto tournament you were talking about?”

Itto’s eyes lit up. “That would be awesome! After all, gotta fill our bellies after some heavy fighting!”

You decided not to mention that the ones fighting would be the beetles, not him. “I can make some and take it to you then. When and where is the tournament going to be?”

To your surprise, Itto halted at the question, suddenly looking unsure. He ran a hand through his hair, pondering his words before speaking. “You know, you should probably get it to me before the tournament. It’s on Tuesday, so can you give it to me on Monday?”

You frowned, deciding not to hide your displeasure. “Why? You don’t want me to see the onikabuto fight?”

“It’s not that, it’s just… A friend of mine is going to be there, and he’s got this thing – what’s it called, oh yeah – he’s got social anxiety. So he doesn’t like hanging out where there are a lot of people or meeting new people. I’m trying to get him out of his shell, but you know, it’s a slow process.”

You blinked, letting that turn of events sink in. It made sense, actually. It would be disastrous for the reputation of the Yashiro Commissioner to be seen engaging in such a trifling activity as beetle fighting. This hobby was clearly a secret, or else surely you would have heard something even before leaving Fontaine. To keep his cover intact, he needed an excuse not to be seen. Apparently, social anxiety it was.

“I see. Too bad I can’t make it on Monday, my schedule with Yoimiya will be too busy,” you said slowly, trying to gather some more time to think. “How about this, though. I can get them to you just before the tournament. When would that be?”

That way, you could follow Itto to their meeting place and see the Yashiro Commissioner for yourself. And then you could move on to the next part of your plan… which still needed to be developed. But it would. Before Tuesday.

“Hum, doesn’t sound like a bad idea… Alright then! Meet me here on Tuesday at sundown! Wait a minute. You’re not going to charge me for the cakes, are you?”

You should. “No, not this time. Consider this as part of the apology.”

Itto does not question the extent to which you are using this apology excuse, instead grinning and nodding as if it made sense that the world should bow to his whims.

By the time you finished your shift and returned to Konda Village, your mind is still racing, mentally reviewing everything you needed to prepare before Tuesday. You had four days. Four days to figure out how to use Yashiro Commissioner’s relationship with Itto to earn you a position within the Kamisato household. And that, without compromising your status before said Commissioner.

After learning of the peculiar hobbies of the Yashiro Commissioner, you found yourself wondering what kind of person he truly was. From what you and Karina had gathered before you left for Inazuma, he seemed like the perfect model of a politician – diligent, pleasant, and sharp. And you had dealt with enough politicians to know that the successful ones never showed their full hand. As much as his interactions with Itto and his onikabuto could be nothing more than a hobby – a rather ridiculous one, at that –, there was a real chance that that might be an excuse for shadier dealings. Maybe some even related to Watatsumi. Maybe even Itto’s brainlessness was a ruse – that thought made you shudder.

Eri was sitting by the porch when you arrived, the village children gathered at her feet with nervous wide eyes. There was no doubt that Eri was filling them with the spooky stories she loved so much.

“And so the mischievous tanuki ran and ran as fast as its legs could carry it. But the great Onmyouji was also quick – quicker than a kitsune, some said. He raised his sword and, in an instant, the entire forest went silent.”

You stepped closer, careful not to disturb Eri’s story. The children were so enthralled they did not even notice your presence behind them.

“Every single tanuki was sealed inside Chinju Forest. To this day, they remain there. Restless. So desperate to see the outside world that they would do anything to trick an innocent traveler to break the seal.” Eri lowered her voice, leading the children to inch closer. “If you pass by Chinju Forest, you might even hear them. You might hear the tanuki cry-”

“Heeeelp meee…”

“AAAAAH!”

Eri burst into laughter as the children scrambled to her feet and pushed one another to the direction of the creepy voice, only to find you snickering.

“That was so mean, Big Sis! No fair!” Takeru pouted, pointing an accusing finger towards you. Futaba, on the other hand, tried to keep her cool.

“I wasn’t scared. It was your screams that spooked me.”

“Yeah, sure.” Takeru rolled his eyes.

“Sorry, sorry,” you said, your chuckles indicating that you were not sorry at all. “I just wanted to contribute to Mrs. Saimon’s tale. It’s not every day that you have such an accomplished storyteller indulging you. Remember to thank her, right?”

“You’re too kind, Hitomi,” Eri replied with a smile. “But I’m sure the children are getting tired of my old tales. Maybe you have something more interesting for them. From your time in Fontaine, perhaps?”

That proposition led to an immediate shift in the kids’ moods. They turned to you with eyes gleaming in anticipation, apparently oblivious as to how rigid your posture suddenly became.

“Sorry to disappoint, Mrs. Saimon, but I am not a good storyteller. Besides, I’m so tired from working all day,” you yawned dramatically for emphasis, “that I think I’ll just head straight to bed.”

Your words were followed by groans and even a few boos. You were content to ignore them and head in, if not for the sudden weight pressing around your leg. You smiled through gritted teeth at Takeru. That did not deter him for insisting.

“Please, please, please, tell us about Fontaine, Big Sis Hitomi!”

The other kids echoed his words, throwing questions into the air as though that would sway you.

“Is it true that everyone flies there?”

“Do they have kitsune there? What do they eat?”

“I’ve heard that everyone in Fontaine has to wear big, fancy hats to protect their brains, because they’re all made of mechanical parts. Big Sis, did you get a mechanical brain there too?”

“I don’t know who has been telling you about Fontaine, but they’ve had one too many magic matsutake,” you remarked, raising one eyebrow.

“What is magic matsutake?”

“Erm, nothing. Bad stuff. Don’t eat the magic matsutake. Anyway,” you cleared your throat, mind still scrambling for a way out. Dealing with kids was exhausting and you tried to avoid it as much as you could. You could not bring yourself to simply walk past them as if they were invisible, though, like Elke and Karina often did. It was not their fault if they were happy and curious.

You eventually decided that a quick overview of the Land of Justice would suffice. “Fontaine is pretty nice. Lots of waterfalls, boats, bridges, artists everywhere, lots of new technologies…”

Beggars shunned out of the city center, harsh punishments for the smallest deviations, noisy machines, undrinkable waters at the outskirts of the capital, stained with pollution from the factories… But they did not need to know that. Not now, at least.

You should have foreseen their dissatisfaction about the vague descriptions. Instead of letting you go, Takeru gripped your leg more tightly, now accompanied by Futaba around your other leg.

“Tell us more! Tell some story from Fontaine!”

“Yeah, what about the mechanical brains?”

“Come on, Big Sis! Tell us something amazing!”

Something amazing. Fontaine was far from your mind when you thought about those words. Not that the country lacked impressive aspects – the waterfalls of Petrichor, the stained glass of the Palace of Justice, the faint sound of a music box hidden in the cracks of a wall you did not expect. But that was only one side of the scale. And Forçalos’ justice required that both sides remained balanced.

No, there were far more amazing things out there, in your opinion. And there was one of them that Anaïs and Boniface always asked to hear about, even if they whined about your storytelling style. It’s like you’re describing a drunken bar fight. While you’re drunk, Sylvain had once remarked, too busy laughing at his own joke to dodge the bottle of osmanthus wine you threw at his side as revenge.

“Alright,” you conceded at last. “It’s not a story from Fontaine, but believe me, it’s better. What do you know about sea monsters?”

The kids looked at one another, trying to pressure each other into saying something smart and hide their ignorance at the same time. One of the girls finally spoke up.

“I know that no sea monster dares to come here Inazuma, because the Almighty Shogun would zap them away!”

The other kids nodded enthusiastically. Your lips curved into a smirk.

“Tough to compete against an Archon, huh? But do you think someone like you and me could defeat one? Say… someone without a Vision.”

The question was answered with frowns and grumbles. As much as the kids could not fathom a mere mortal fighting such a beast, they did not want to acknowledge how powerless that made them. That only added to your narrative.

“Well… It just so happens that someone did. A woman, armed with nothing but her greatsword, fought and killed this huge, enormously gigantic leviathan that lived in the sea near Liyue.” The listeners’ eyes widened and Takeru’s breath hitched loudly. You paused for dramatic effect, but not for too long. You could never quite contain your excitement when this topic came about. “Let me tell you the story of Captain Beidou.”

The first time you had heard about Captain Beidou, you had been twelve, hiding behind crates at a commercial outpost near Petrichor while you listened in on a hushed conversation between a cor lapis smuggler and his buyer. Since then, you had forgotten what Baptiste had asked you to find out and what the point of it was. But you would always remember the terrified look on the smuggler’s face when relaying the trap set up by the Crux Fleet and its intrepid captain at Yaoguang Shoal. After an intense battle, he and his underlings had been forced to return to Petrichor empty-handed.

After that, the name “Beidou” began to pop up much more frequently during your assignments, especially ones that involved sea trading routes. About one year later, all of Fontaine came to know of Beidou. Her picture had been stamped on the frontpage of The Steambird, a blurry shot of a woman with long dark hair wielding an enormous greatsword at the bow of a ship, screaming something back to the crew. Above the picture, a title that would accompany Beidou for years to come: the Uncrowned Emperor of the Ocean. The piece detailed Beidou’s fight against Haishan and her subsequent acquisition of an Electro Vision as though it was an epic tale. And truly, it had been nothing less than that. You had kept the clipping on a notebook and, since then, you had kept your ears up for any news about Beidou’s adventures, absorbing every drop of them like a flower in the desert does to water. The fact that Beidou looked like a sea goddess that you had more than once dreamed of kissing was also good motivation.

There was a time when Sylvain had reveled in those stories as well. But that had been years ago.

You quickly flicked that inconvenient thought away and started your story.

“So. You all know Liyue, right? Big country across the sea? Huge mountains that were thrown from the skies by Rex Lapis himself? Questionable cuisine? This country had a problem. Well, many problems, but we’re focusing on this one: a ferocious leviathan named Haishan. Haishan terrorized the seas, capsized ships, and ate their crews until there was nothing left. Not even the bones. Futaba, this is not a class, you don’t have to raise your hand.”

“Why did it eat the bones?” the girl asked.

“Uh… bones have a lot of calcium,” you tried, unsure if that was correct.

“So should we eat bones?”

“No. Don’t eat bones. Drink milk instead.”

Another boy raised his hand. “What if you are lactose intolerant?”

“You… look for another source of calcium?”

“Like what?”

“Look, I’m not a doctor. Do you want to hear about a monster-killing pirate or not?” The kids immediately went quiet, to your relief. “Having Haishan around was bad in many, many ways. It hurt people on boats, yes, but it also harmed important commercial routes. If you had medicine or food that needed to be transported across the area where Haishan lived, well, tough luck, my friend. Chances were that those goods would never arrive at all, and that would hurt even more people. And what do you do when you have a monster stirring up trouble?”

“You call the Almighty Shogun!”

“Er, sure…” Perhaps that girl would make an interesting Shrine Maiden one day. “What if you don’t have that option because you live in Liyue…?”

“You write to the Tri-Commission asking them to call the Shogun!” the girl insisted fiercely.

“Oh, I know, I know!” exclaimed Takeru, hopping in excitement. “You post a commission!”

“Bingo,” you said, ignoring the pout from the seemingly very pious girl. “And that’s what the Liyue Qixing did. They are the body that governs Liyue, like the Tri-Commission does here in Inazuma. The Qixing’s commission attracted a lot of different people. Seasoned adventurers, mercenaries, some Millelith – these are the official guards of Liyue – well, some Millelith who were trying to make some extra money on the side… And, of course, pirates.

“Among these pirates, there was a group of newbies that called themselves ‘The Crux Fleet’. They were just small fries at the time. You know, chasing treasure, going on adventures, getting some contraband – which is something you should never do,” you added hurriedly upon seeing Eri’s gaze narrowing upon you. “There was nothing special about them. Or so everyone thought, because ha! The leader of these newbies was none other than Captain Beidou. And once Captain Beidou sets her eyes – well, eye, she wears an eyepatch – on something, let me tell you, she gets it.

“The Crux Fleet sailed into Haishan’s territory in the middle of the day, when the skies were clear and they could have good visibility to fight the monster. But none of that helped: storm clouds started to gather, the sea became agitated, lightning crackled down-”

“Like when the Almighty Shogun administers divine punishment?” the girl interrupted again with sparkles in her eyes.

“Yes, exactly like that,” you said quickly, dismissing the intervention. “And then, when they least expected… Voosh! A slimy tentacle shot out of the ocean and hit the mast of one of the ships! The crew scrambled for their weapons, crossbow bolts flying in the direction of the tentacle, but it had already sunk back into the sea.

“The pirates looked around for another glimpse of Haishan, but it was too dark and stormy to make out anything. And when they least expected – bam!” You clapped your hands together for greater emphasis. “Haishan slammed its body against the Alcor, the leading ship of the fleet, where Beidou was.

“Oh, but she did not lose heart, no way. With her sharp eye, Beidou was eventually able to distinguish Haishan’s form beneath the waves and yell commands to her crew right before it attacked. With that, they were able to block and dodge some of the worst blows. But no matter how hard they tried to hit Haishan back, their attacks had little to no effect.

“Now, Captain Beidou knew that the leviathan had one weak point.”

“Its eyes?” asked Takeru.

“Its heart?” suggested Futaba.

“Its overconsumption of calcium?” one of the boys tried.

“Its head,” you revealed with a smirk. “Beidou knew that, with one precise, clean strike, she could slash Haishan’s head off and that would be the end of her problems. But of course, on a ship in the middle of a storm, it would be extremely difficult to pull that off. She had to wait for the right moment.

“She waited for four days. Four days, I tell you! Four days without eating, sleeping-”

“What about going to the bathroom?”

“Four days without going to the bathroom.” That revelation, though a complete guess and not featured in The Steambird or other sources, drew a chorus of gasps from the children. “Beidou was tired, using all of the energy she had left to keep her crew alive and look for an opening. Her patience was finally rewarded when Haishan, after many cuts and scrapes to its tentacles, rose its ugly head out of the water to try and take a bite out of the ship. That was when – Woosh! Beidou swung her greatsword and chopped off Haishan’s head in one. Single. Strike. And as soon as she did, the clouds parted and a purple gem encased in metal fell from the sky on her hand: the gods deemed her worthy of an Electro Vision.”

You paused triumphantly, gauging the reactions from the audience. The kids were no longer wide-eyed, but instead frowning and regarding you with hesitation. Takeru was the first to speak up.

“Big Sis… Are you making this up?”

“What?” you exclaimed, putting a hand to your chest in exaggerated offense. “Every detail of this story has been verified and confirmed by people with much more resources and free time than me. You can check, it’s absolutely legit.”

“But no one can spend so much time without eating or going to the bathroom…”

“They said the same thing about defeating Haishan, but here we are.” You shrugged.

“And what about this single strike thing?” Futaba inquired with a look full of suspicion. “If the monster was so big, shouldn't it have taken a little bit more?”

“Beidou’s greatsword is also very big.”

The kids grumbled amongst themselves, clearly unconvinced. You huffed in annoyance. “Ask someone at the port if you don’t believe me. Anyone who has gone farther than half a kilometer into the sea knows of Captain Beidou.”

“My dad is a fisherman, I’ll ask him!” one of the boys volunteered, to which the other kids hummed approvingly.

With quick shouts of thanks to you for the story, noticeably less enthusiastic than the ones Eri had gotten, the kids ran off to ask other adults about Beidou. Although you were not sure how popular the sea captain was in Inazuma, they should be able to confirm your story eventually.

Having gotten the kids out of the way lifted a weight from your shoulders and you felt yourself relaxing for the first time that day. Noticing your reaction, Eri let out an amused chuckle.

“You are not bad with children,” the old woman remarked.

“Oh no, Mrs. Saimon, I am terrible. The only thing I can say to my credit is that I try.”

“And isn’t that the first step to be good at something?”

Eri did not wait for an answer, heading into the house while muttering something about youngsters and their imagination. You could not help a small smile as you followed suit.

“For every move you make, think at least five steps ahead.” Baptiste had spent years imprinting that lesson on you. It had born some fruit. You had become more cautious, more observant. You had learned how to make sound quick decisions. However, five was a big number, especially in complex operations. Especially when you were required to essentially redesign an infiltration from scratch.

Talking to Sylvain was out of the question. That would be akin to admitting your incompetence – as much as the man did have a sharp mind for planning. Hopefully, he was already back in Ritou.

Eventually, you decided that three was a good enough number. You would follow Itto discreetly to his meeting place with Kamisato Ayato. You would confirm that it was indeed the Yashiro Commissioner and wait for them to be done with whatever they had planned. You would then follow Ayato a bit further and bump into him seemingly by accident. And then… you would say something. Hopefully something that would make him consider hiring you to work at the Kamisato Estate. Figuring out what that something was – that was the fourth step. You hoped it would come to you before you intercepted the Commissioner.

Time seemed to suffer strange dilations throughout those four days, sometimes moving too slowly, others incredibly fast. When the day came, Yoimiya did not seem to think it odd that you had baked more Dancing Delights to Itto, perhaps too distracted by the batch you had left her and Ryuunosuke. After your shift was done, you made your way to the square, where Itto was already waiting for you.

“Hiyah, Hitomi my homie!” he greeted with a wave. You felt your carefully crafted smile already deflating a little.

“Must you call everybody ‘bro’ and ‘homie’ all the time?”

“I don’t do that to everybody, just my bros and homies!” Itto countered. Seeing that would be a losing battle, you changed the subject.

“Well, here is the dessert. Hope you enjoy it.”

You could not help a tingle of pride of burning inside of you when Itto snatched the basket from your hands, eyes gleaming blissfully. Someone should truly consider opening a Fontainian bakery in Inazuma.

“Thank you so much, bro! I’m sure Aya- er, my friend is going to love this. And it’s going to keep the Lilac Liberator well energized.”

“Lilac Liberator?” you quirked an eyebrow. “What happened to the Supreme Violet Avenger?”

A faint blush spread across Itto’s cheeks as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Nothing much it’s just… There was a little accident involving Akira’s noodles and boiling water… Anyway. The Lilac Liberator is my lil’ champ now. Oh, by the way, we are hosting a festival to celebrate Shinobu’s graduation in a few weeks, do you think you could make some more of those cakes for that?”

“Graduation?”

“Yeah! She graduated in law in Liyue a few years back. And now that the Sakoku Decree is no more, she finally got her diploma. Pretty impressive, huh? One should expect nothing less from the deputy leader of the Arataki Gang.”

It was indeed impressive and you made sure to nod at that. “I might have to charge you for the madeleines, though.”

“What? Come on, it’s Shinobu’s graduation! Can’t you do this as a little gift for her?”

You bit back a sigh. Keep up the good relations, keep up the good relations… “… fine.”

“Heck yeah! She’s going to be thrilled, I know it! Especially after we prepare the music. I’m thinking drums. Lots of drums. But I’ll get to that later. Wouldn’t want to be late for the tournament.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” you said, keeping your hands behind your back so Itto would not see how much your fists clenched in anxiety.

“I’ll take my leave then. See you around, Hitomi-homie!”

As soon as Itto turned his back to you, it was clear that he had completely forgotten about you. His footsteps were loud, he varied from whistling to humming upbeat tunes, and twice did he almost ram into a tree or stumbling into a stone. Itto was completely oblivious to his surroundings. Tailing him was one of the easiest things you had ever done.

The oni eventually made his way to the beach to the east of Inazuma City, not too far from where they had encountered the hilichurl camp a few days prior. Thankfully, there were plenty of small bushes around where you could observe without being seen, even though they were farther from the meeting spot than you would have liked. You watched as Itto dug his hand into his pocket and took out a purple onikabuto – smaller than the Supreme Violet Avenger, you noticed.

Itto’s loud voice soon echoed in your ears. “You got this, buddy. You’re the meanest baddest strongest beetle in the block. And you just gotta show it, okay? I believe in you, so believe in yourself.”

You had to bite your tongue to prevent you from grunting. Even if you had, though, you doubted Itto would have noticed you, enthralled as he was with the beetle.

Minutes went by and Itto continued to give the Lilac Liberator a serious pep talk. The last rays of sunlight faded into the ocean, the orange hues morphing into deep blues that complemented Inazuma’s purple undertones beautifully. Too bad that you did not have the mind to appreciate the scenery, too anxious about the lack of sign of any Yashiro Commissioner.

Could you have been wrong about this? Shinobu had expressly confirmed that Itto’s friend was Kamisato Ayato, but what if this had all been an elaborate ruse? The thought of the Yashiro Commissioner engaging in beetle fighting was plenty ridiculous after all.

Now that you thought better, it had been foolish of you to place all of your faith in that plan. Sylvain could get new orders from Baptiste anytime and you had wasted four days without any progress. You forced yourself to remember that this was your first big assignment after Snezhnaya – the stakes were too high, you could not afford to mess it up, even if everything in that cursed country seemed to be against you.

Just as your mind was starting to spiral into a hurricane of worry, you spotted a silhouette on the beach moving closer to Itto. After a moment, the oni also noticed it. With a toothy grin, he called out, “There you are, compadre! I was starting to think you had chickened out or something!”

A small chuckle came from the silhouette and then a melodious voice spoke. “My apologies, Itto. I got held up and could not make it here sooner.”

As he stepped closer, you could finally discern the figure. It had been impossible to find pictures of the Yashiro Commissioner with their network in Fontaine, reclusive as he was. Still, the descriptions you had gotten had made it easier to recognize the man anywhere. Pale blue hair, lilac eyes, fair skin, pristine clothing. And that damned mole just below the left side of his lip that finally made you understand why Fontainians liked to call it a grain de beauté. The man talking to Itto was, without a doubt, Kamisato Ayato.

Your breath hitched momentarily at the sight of your target, unable to believe your eyes.

“Hehe, no problem, bro, I get it,” Itto said, waving his hand dismissively. “But you’d better get ready to lose this time! I’ve been training with this little bud all week!”

“I’m sure you’ve done impressive work, as always,” Ayato replied with a hint of humor in his tone that Itto, from his self-satisfied grin, failed to notice.

Ayato said something else but, with his soft voice and the sound of the waves getting louder with the high tide, you could not hear it properly. Whatever it was, it elicited a laugh from Itto. “You betcha, my man! Shinobu made me work so much last week that it almost messed up my training schedule!”

The Yashiro Commissioner replied, but once again most of his words were muffled by the background noise. You frowned. That would not do. However trivial their conversation seemed, any small detail could make a difference to your job. You could not let anything slide.

There was a bundle of rocks closer to where the men stood, but getting there required you to move in the open for a short distance. Feeling bold – and desperate –, you decided to risk it.

It was a bad call.

Despite the quietness of your movements, the leaves in the bush where you stood stirred and produced a faint ruffling sound. You did not know which of those had caught the Yashiro Commissioner’s attention, but his lilac eyes quickly snapped in your direction. You immediately held your breath. You knew of the Commissioner’s reputation as a sharp individual but to catch such a light movement in a bush would have require an absurd level of awareness of his surroundings, something achieved with many years of intense training. Just who was he?

The Commissioner’s gaze did not linger long on the bush, though. There was no reason to – you had made sure that you were completely hidden, so he could not have seen you. For all he knew, it was just some weasel moving around.

He turned to Itto and said something with a small smile, this time more quietly. The oni’s face immediately fell.

“Aw, come on! Really, bro?”

Ayato continued to smile, looking apologetic. His body shifted almost imperceptibly; if you had not trained years yourself to capture other people’s body language, you might have missed it. His feet curved slightly outwards, his arms crossed over his chest as if on guard. The Yashiro Commissioner was leaving.

All alarms in your head went off at once. You had no time to wonder what had given you away, what had changed the Commissioner’s mind. You just needed to make sure you would not lose the target. And so you did the first thing that came to mind.

“Itto! Wait! Don’t eat it yet!”

“Uh? Hitomi?” Itto asked as he watched you run in their direction.

You bent down with your hands on your knees and panted as though you had been running. Without glancing at Ayato, as though you had not noticed his presence, you told Itto, “I forgot to give you the chocolate sprinkles for the Dancing Delights. They taste much better with them. I ran to find you as soon as I noticed.”

Itto gasped loudly, bringing a hand over his heart. “You came all this way just to improve the cakes? I had never thought you could be so thoughtful! Bro Ayato, you gotta try those,” he said, turning to the other man and gesturing to the basket with the dessert. “Hitomi made them and they taste pretty damn delicious.”

You turned your eyes to the Yashiro Commissioner and gasped, as though you had just then noticed his presence. You scrambled into a messy bow and muttered a quick “my Lord”, as any diligent Inazuman citizen would. You did not miss the small shift in his smile, making it less genuine than it had been but seconds ago.

“I-I’m sorry,” you started, easily canalizing the nervousness you felt into your role. “Itto had mentioned that he was meeting with a friend, but I didn’t know who it was, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“Dude, relax,” Itto said, clamping a hand over your shoulder. “Bro Ayato is shy, but he doesn’t bite. I swear, Shinobu is far scarier and you weren’t so nervous when you met her.”

You fidgeted, gazing unsurely between the two men. Ayato bowed his head in your direction and shot you a smile that you supposed was meant to be placating.

“Yes, please, you did not interrupt anything. I am merely a friend of Itto’s and nothing more.” Though his tone remained relaxed on the surface, you understood the message. Don’t you dare tell him who I am. You gulped, quickly nodding.

“So where are the chocolate sprinkles?” Itto inquired.

An excellent question. One whose answer required further improvisation.

“They are right- oh wait. No, the other pocket- Dang it, where are they? Ugh, I can’t believe it, the bottle must have fallen off on the way! Archons, sorry about that, Itto.”

“Hey, no need to worry. They tasted pretty good already without the sprinkles, I don’t see why that has to change. Here, bro, take one,” Itto insisted, passing the basket to Ayato. The Commissioner took one of the butter cakes with a pleased expression, but did not bite it. You admired his caution; for all he knew, they could be poisoned.

“T-they are just some butter cakes with chocolate and w-white pepper,” you stammered, waiting for Itto to grab one before you also picked up a butter cake. Itto gulped his down in one go and You took a more polite bite out of yours. Ayato still had not eaten his.

“This is an interesting concept… I don’t believe I have ever seen it before,” he hummed.

“It’s a F-Fontainian recipe,” you explained, watching as Itto grabbed two other butter cakes. “I grew up there.”

“Ah, the Land of Justice. Indeed, the pastries there are almost as beautiful as the waterfalls. Have you been in Inazuma long?”

“No, sir,” you replied, lowering your gaze to your feet. Despite how casual and polite Ayato’s tone was, you knew very well that he was prying for information. And you were willing to give it all to him – all information about Hitomi, that was. “I’ve arrived almost two months ago, and since then I’ve been trying to find a job and settle here.”

Itto frowned at you. “Didn’t you work with Yoimiya?”

“That’s temporary. I’m still looking for something permanent.” You felt like a broken record regarding your employment situation at that point.

“Miss Yoimiya is a very reliable person. If you have someone like her looking out for you, I am sure your situation will be resolved in no time,” remarked Ayato.

You nodded, finishing up your second cake. Only then did Ayato took the first bite out of his. Again, you felt a tinge of pride when you saw the Yashiro Commissioner’s expression relax ever so slightly, savoring the cake.

“Exquisite indeed. White pepper, you said?” You nodded again. Ayato looked thoughtful for a moment before asking, “Would you be able to add other ingredients to the filling?”

“Of course!” you said promptly. “Do you have any specific requests?”

The Yashiro Commissioner’s reply was as quick as it was unexpected. “Could you use some naku weed and matsutake?”

You blinked, certain that you had misheard the Commissioner. You was proved wrong when Itto scrunched up his face and exclaimed, “That sounds disgusting, bro. Why would you want to eat that?”

“I just like exploring new flavors,” Ayato said calmly. He turned to you. “Could you please make this recipe and a normal batch for tomorrow?”

“I- sure,” you managed to say, still confused. Any self-respecting pâtissier from Fontiane would have surely denied the request as an offense to the culinary arts. But you were neither and you were in no position to deny anything the Yashiro Commissioner wanted.

“Thank you, Miss Hitomi. I will ask someone to go to Naganohara Fireworks tomorrow to pick them up. Now, Itto, I am afraid I must leave.”  

“No worries, bro. You do what you have to do,” Itto said, visibly disappointed.

“I will see you some other time, then. Miss Hitomi, it was a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“Likewise, sir.”

You wondered if you should say anything else – try anything else, but the Commissioner was already walking away. Instead, you turned to Itto and asked, “Why did he leave in a hurry?”

The oni shrugged. “Said something urgent came up and that he had come here just to let me know that he couldn’t stay for the tournament. Bro Ayato is always considerate like that.”

You nodded slowly, mind running back to the sudden change in the Commissioner’s attitude as soon as he had noticed something different in his surroundings. Throughout the entire conversation, he had remained calm and polite, but you could see the alertness in his eyes. His demeanor was eerily familiar. It was only later, when you were in bed preparing to sleep, that you figured out why. Ayato reminded you of Baptiste.

When you told Yoimiya of your allegedly unexpected encounter with the Yashiro Commissioner and his even more unexpected request, the blonde woman did not seem very surprised. She did not, however, mask the look of revulsion at the changes he had requested on the recipe.

“I remember Thoma mentioning a few times that the Commissioner has some… peculiar interests when it comes to food. First time seeing an order like that, though. Are you going to make it?”

“What choice do I have?” you shrugged. “You don’t just turn down an order from a member of the Tri-Commission like that.”

Yoimiya laughed. “I suppose not… But hey, at least you’re not the poor soul who’s going to eat it.”

“I wouldn’t put it past him to ask me to,” you grumbled, eliciting a laugh from your employer.

Replacing the chocolate and the pepper with naku weed and matsutake was harder than you thought. The texture was entirely different and your first attempts had ended up with the dough crumbling through your fingers. You eventually managed to turn the naku weed into a paste by adding water and flour, and added small pieces of matsutake last. For a brief moment, you wondered if you should taste it, but the bitter smell was enough to change your mind. You could not imagine anyone could stomach a cake like that. Maybe the Commissioner was planning to poison a political adversary.

Ayato had not told you what time someone from the Commission would pick up the pastries, so you made sure to prepare them first thing in the morning, before helping Yoimiya organize the inventory. Luckily, you did not have to wait long. It was lunch time when you heard Yoimiya exclaim from the front counter, “Hiya there, Thoma! And Ayaka, great to see you! It’s been so long!”

You immediately froze. When Ayato had said that someone would pick up the order, you had been expecting a lowly servant. But there she was; the Shirasagi Himegimi, followed by the annoying blond retainer.

“The pleasure is mine, Yoimiya,” Kamisato Ayaka greeted, her voice as soft and pleasant as her brother’s. Pictures of her had been easier to obtain, given her frequent participation in Inazuma’s festivals. Rather good ones had been taken during the recent Iridori festival, featuring the Kamisato princess next to the notorious blonde Traveler and a short blond man clothed in what seemed to be a Mondstadter style.

Those pictures had not done Ayaka justice, however. Her eyes were even more striking in person, a pale blue that almost matched the contours of the Cryo Vision she carried on her back. Her steps as she approached the shop were soft, but decisive, a kind of effortless elegance that could not simply be learned through practice. You felt your heart rate increase for a moment before schooling your expression into one of respectful pleasantness.

You bowed to Ayaka as Yoimiya spoke, “This is Hitomi! She’s been helping me around the shop lately. Aaaand she makes some mean butter cakes, which I assume is what you came here to try.”

Ayaka nodded with a small smile. “Indeed, brother was rather interested in those cakes, so I thought I might join Thoma on the trip to the city. Thank you for your work, Hitomi.”

“You honor me, milady. Thank you for your hard work for our country,” you replied, deepening your bow. Your mind raced, trying to make sense of your new position; meeting up with not only one, but two Kamisatos on the same week. You had to take advantage of that somehow.

“I was surprised when milord told me about Yoimiya’s new assistant’s baking cakes,” Thoma remarked casually. “I didn’t know you had that talent, Hitomi.”

Maybe if you had read my recommendation letters, you thought, but bit back the comment. Instead, you said, “Yes, it came from previous experiences working in households.”

“Thoma told me you moved here from Fontaine, is that right?” Ayaka asked, to which you nodded. “It must have been quite a change in culture. I hope that you have not been finding it too difficult to adapt to Inazuma.”

“Some things are indeed very different, but I have been lucky to have gotten the support of great people.” You gave Yoimiya a small smile that was surprisingly sincere, causing the blonde to scratch the back of her neck sheepishly.

“Aiyah, I should be the one thanking your support! Hitomi has these notebooks where she keeps track of every little thing in the shop, nothing gets misplaced or lost anymore. It’s almost scary, really!” the shop owner said, this time leading you to look away as a tinge of pride bloomed across your chest.

“I am very glad to hear that,” Ayaka said with a warm smile.

You immediately understood why so many people in Inazuma were in awe of the Shirasagi Himegimi. Unlike her brother, her composure did not seem calculated and did not hint ulterior motives. If anything, she sounded entirely sincere in her happiness seeing Yoimiya’s business prosper and Hitomi’s integration into Inazuma, even if you had just met. You wondered if Ayaka was simply even better at masking her emotions and intentions than Ayato, but you found it unlikely. Perhaps just this once there was a noble lady who was exactly what she seemed.

You had to actively remind yourself to stay focused on the task at hand.

“Sadly it’s still just a temporary job… but don’t let me bother you with that. I’ll get the cakes,” you said, quickly going inside the shop and returning with two baskets. Even though you had tried to mask it with vanilla extract, the smell of the naku weed butter cakes was immediately noticeable. Yoimiya did not even try to conceal her disrelish as she eyed that one basket.

Before you could explain the Yashiro Commissioner’s unique request, Thoma was already reaching out for the basket. Though he continued to smile, the shakiness in his voice was evident.

“This one is for me, I suppose…”

Ayaka opened up a fan in front of her mouth, but the wrinkles around her eyes made it clear that she was hiding a giggle. “Thoma, are you still putting up with this kind of Brother’s pranks? You don’t have to eat this, you know.”

“It’s not a problem, milady,” Thoma reassured her, though with evident effort. “If anything, this can give me some new ideas for the hotpot game.”

“Well, at least try one of the regular ones before,” Ayaka insisted, placing a Dancing Delight on Thoma’s hand, and then also insisting for Yoimiya and you to take some.

Yoimiya bit into her cake first and, even though she already knew what they tasted like, she could not help but let out a very loud, satisfied hum. Thoma was next, his expression quickly morphing into one of elation as he savored the creamy chocolate filling. Ayaka’s reaction was more contained, but you did not miss the way she let out a contented sigh.

“This is amazing! You really outdid yourself, Hitomi,” Thoma complimented, his appreciation emphasized by Yoimiya’s enthusiastic nods.

“The light spiciness of the pepper seems to make the chocolate taste less sweet, but still very rich,” Ayaka mused approvingly. “Is it very popular in Fontaine?”

“Stuffed madeleines are pretty common there, but this version is my own invention,” you clarified, bowing again to Ayaka with a smile. The woman’s eyes gleamed in excitement.

“It is an exquisite combination, congratulations. If you don’t mind my asking, how have you been finding Inazuma cuisine?”

“I wasn’t entirely unfamiliar with it, seeing as my parents used to make it often. But it is certainly different from Fontaine’s, more savory. I quite enjoy it, though,” you answered truthfully. Now, if only Inazuma had proper coffee. Maybe you could ask Sylvain to sneak you some.

Ayaka listened to your words attentively, as though trying to piece together the details and create a detailed picture of Fontaine. You recalled how Yoimiya had mentioned the Shirasagi Himegimi’s interest in foreign cultures. That could be useful.

Before you could say more, however, Thoma spoke up. “By the way, Yoimiya, that new order we placed at the end of last week wouldn’t happen to be ready yet, would it?”

You frowned, recalling the order. Fifty-five medium-sized fish-themed fireworks. The Yashiro Commission was not supposed to pick up that order until Friday. Even so, Yoimiya had completed that one earlier so she could focus on a few recreational fireworks the city’s kids that asked her to make.

“They are in the back, but we still need to pack them,” the shop owner answered. “Hitomi and I could get that ready right now if you want.”

“Oh no, I don’t want to trouble you with that. I can help with the packing myself, if Hitomi can show me where they are.”

The request seemed innocent enough. Thoughtful, even, especially when said in Thoma’s cheery tone. But you knew better than to take words at face-value, especially from someone who had gained notoriety as a fixer. So you steeled your guard behind a calm smile as you gestured for Thoma to follow you into the shop.

With the organizational system you had put in place, it had become much easier to locate each client’s orders. And since the Yashiro Commission placed them so frequently, you had reserved a special place near the front of the storage room for them.

You and Thoma began to pack the fireworks in wooden crates, with him filling the silence by humming a light tune that you did not recognize. His apparent absent-mindedness did not last long, however.

“I wouldn’t have thought you were friends with Itto,” the retainer remarked casually. You were not surprised that he knew about the previous day’s encounter; he would not be good at his job if he did not.

“We are new acquaintances,” you corrected.

“Still, it is very kind of you to bake those cakes for him.”

You shrugged nonchalantly. “It wasn’t a problem. I had made too many for Yoimiya anyway.”

Thoma chuckled. “Lucky him, then. By the way, milord asked me to thank you for not revealing his identity to Itto.” You bowed your head at the mention of Kamisato Ayato, looking as bashful as you felt you should. Before you could answer, though, Thoma added, “It is crazy how often you keep meeting with the Kamisato Clan.”

If the remark was supposed to make you nervous, then Thoma had failed miserably. You knew the conversation was bound to head to that direction.

“It was an odd, though humbling coincidence,” you said quietly. “I admire the work that the Yashiro Commission has done for Inazuma and it is my wish to repay it however I can.”

Thoma hummed noncommittally, sealing one of the crates after it was filled up. “Have you gotten the chance to meet people from the other Commissions too?”

“I have become acquainted with some Tenryou guards around Hanamizaka. As for the Kanjou Commission, only the ones that let me into the country in Ritou.”

“They have all been working hard to return Inazuma to peace and prosperity,” the blond said slowly, as though trying to gauge the impact of his words on you. “I guess we all have to do our part to achieve that goal.”

You nodded and smiled at him, as though you had failed to grasp the implications of his words. Underneath your mask of serenity, your mind raced thinking of ways to lower the retainer’s guard.

“I will do anything I can to help with that,” you finally chose to say. Thoma only smiled and nodded at you, which made you think that your answer had been adequate. Still, you were not foolish enough to think that you had eased all of his suspicions. You had enough experience to know that intelligence-gathering required continuous role-playing.

Nevertheless, your time was running short. If Thoma was not willing to give you an opening, you would have to take more desperate measures.

And so it was that, after returning to the counter and setting down the boxes, you turned to Ayaka with calculated anxiousness.

“Lady Kamisato, I am sorry for my boldness, b-but, if I may. I’m getting worried about my employment situation here in Inazuma. I worked as a servant for other families in Fontaine and I am pretty handy with different household tasks. I-I even tried to go to the Kamisato Estate once, but you weren’t hiring.” You caught Thoma’s stiffening from the corner of your eye. “But if any opportunity arises, or if you know of another position, I would be extremely grateful. And honored. Sorry!” You finished by clasping your hands together and bowing your head, keeping your eyes well shut. The display of submissiveness might have been found excessive in other nations, but you knew that Inazumans reveled in it. Besides, it would not have been uncharacteristic for someone in Hitomi’s situation.

To your surprise, Yoimiya was the first to react, placing a hand on your shoulder and squeezing it in a comforting gesture.

“Hey, no need to worry so much! You’re very talented, I’m sure everything will work out! I mean, look at how much you’ve helped me already. And I’m keeping my ears up for anything too. I know it’s scary when you’re in a new country and everything, but don’t lose heart!”

You could have kissed Yoimiya. If only she knew how much she was helping sell the story. It almost made up for the uncomfortable expression Thoma was making. His face was carefully blank, but his lips were pressed into a line, denoting a tinge of irritation. He was, after all, responsible for managing the Kamisato household’s servants and you had just sidestepped him and gone straight for the higher authority. This certainly would not help any suspicions he might have towards you, but at this point you had more to lose by staying silent.

Ayaka blinked, surprised by the request, but did not look displeased. Instead, her expression was thoughtful.

“Thoma, I believe one of the maids in the estate quit recently – Mitsue, was it?”

“Yes, milady. There has been no need to replace her, though,” Thoma promptly added.

Ayaka frowned at his answer. “Thoma, you’re still overworking yourself.” Although her tone was calm and polite, it was a reprimand; you could see it by the way Thoma’s body tensed. Something passed between them, a silent message across their stares, but sadly you had too little context to decipher it. Not long passed before Ayaka’s gaze softened and she turned to you. “I will confirm the status of the positions at the Kamisato Estate and send word back to you by the end of the week at the latest.”

You bowed deeply to the Kamisato princess, your gratitude entirely truthful, even if for reasons different than others would imagine. Although Thoma smiled and waved to you before the duo left, he was perceptibly quieter – not quite surprising, after that sting to his pride. Only Yoimiya seemed completely oblivious to the power struggle that had just taken place, hopping excitedly around you.

“How cool would it be if you got to work with the Kamisatos? Then we would probably continue to meet often! And I could show you the results of my latest experiments with the firefly fireworks. They are still exploding sooner than they should, not to mention the smell… But I think that I can get them to look like actual fireflies. The children asked for them after I told them this story about a Pyro-wielding youkai that…”

For once, you were content to let Yoimiya ramble, hoping that the background noise would distract you from the excruciating anticipation building up within you.

Fortunately, you did not have to deal with that for long. Before the end of the week, you had gotten a note asking you to meet Thoma at Komore Teahouse to discuss your employment situation. Although there was no express mention of a job interview, you could only assume this was what the meeting was about. If they intended to simply reject you, there was no need to do so in person.

You decided to ditch the uncomfortable fancy shoes for the occasion – they had not brought you luck before anyway. Besides, you would be stressed enough ensuring that the teahouse’s dog kept his distance from you. You would have to disappoint Yoimiya, who had asked you to give Taroumarou some treats in her stead. Both the shop owner and Ryuunosuke had seen you off, shooting you thumbs up and good luck wishes.

The teahouse’s hostess, who you came to learn was called Kozue, let you in without any comments or questions this time. She had probably been briefed about your arrival and only pointed to the direction of the room where Thoma was waiting for you. Taroumarou was nowhere in sight, which only made you more alert. Still, you could not help but jump back when you slid the door of the room open and found Taroumarou on Thoma’s lap, tongue lolling out as the blond scratched behind his ears.

Taroumarou was the first to notice your presence, barking in your direction. Only after his sign did Thoma look up to you.

“Hi Hitomi! Just in time, please take a sit.”

You nodded slowly but did not move. Nor did you tear your eyes away from the dog, who returned the stare with equal concentration. Taroumarou retracted his tongue and let out a low growl, causing your jaw to involuntarily clench. Upon hearing the noise, Thoma shifted his gaze between the dog and you, his mouth forming a small ‘o’ in surprise. He then got up, still holding Taroumarou in his arms.

“I’m sorry about this, Taroumarou is usually nervous around strangers,” he said and, though his tone seemed every bit sincerely apologetic, you did not buy it. He was the chief retainer of the Kamisato Clan, after all. Such a masterful power play was only to be expected from him. He had probably heard from Kozue about your previous reaction to Taroumarou and connected the dots.

Nonetheless, it would have been more strategic for him to keep the dog in the room, exploiting the opportunity to destabilize you. Instead, Thoma walked towards the door – away from which you quickly scrambled – and set Taroumarou down outside.

“We’ll continue the cuddle session later, buddy. Can you be a good boy and wait for me? Of course you can, you are a good boy!”

Taroumarou barked as if in confirmation, his tail wagging from side to side. The dog got up and took a left turn in the hall as Thoma closed the door. The blond turned to you with a satisfied smile.

“All done! Please, do sit.”

You did as you were told, only then realizing from the pain in your knuckles how hard you had been gripping the doorframe. You took the seat across from Thoma at the tea table. There were cups and a teapot at the ready for you both.

“Let see what we have here… Ah, sencha. Would you like some, Hitomi?”

You were sick and tired of tea, especially the herbal kinds that were so popular in Inazuma. That was the last thing you wanted. However, in respect to your host, you found yourself saying amiably, “Yes, please.”

“Do you make a lot of tea like this in Fontaine?” asked Thoma as he poured into your cup.

“The tea there tends to vary between floral and fruity. Fontainians usually like tea, but I would say coffee is their daily beverage,” you mused, purposefully putting a grammatical distance between yourself and your compatriots, as if you were not ready to kill for a decent cup of coffee any day.

“Hehe, I suppose those inventors need something to keep them awake and working. Do you miss it much? Fontaine, I mean, not the coffee specifically.”

“I miss certain things. It’s only natural, I guess, I did spend most of my life there. But something about Inazuma feels like coming home.”

Though that was a well-rehearsed lie, you found that the words still left a bitter taste in your mouth, especially after your prior conversation with Sylvian. Thoma frowned momentarily at your answer but hid it so quickly that you wondered whether you had perhaps imagined it.

“You moved there when you were six, right?”

“That is correct.”

The blond took a sip from his tea. “I’m glad to hear you have been enjoying it here, especially despite all the difficulties.” The lightness in his tone could almost have masked the jab, if you had not been highly alert. You only smiled and nodded in return. “Well, let’s cut to the chase then. After our last chat, I reviewed your recommendation letters for the position at the Kamisato Estate and discussed them with Miss Kamisato. I just wanted to talk a little bit about your experiences in person.”

Ah, the job interview. At long last. “Of course.”

“You mentioned two households in Fontaine that you worked for previously. Can you tell me more about what your attributions were and how the overall experience went?”

“I started working for the Garrels when I was fourteen. Just small tasks at first, helping clean the estate and wash dishes. With time, I began to help the cook as well with certain things – chopping vegetables, watching the meat in the oven. I was also put in charge of organizing some smaller social gatherings.”

“What would you call small?”

“Around thirty people or so,” you said nonchalantly, knowing full well that this number was still considered a petit comité in Fontaine and a full-blown party in Inazuma. Thoma hummed, prodding you to continue. “I worked there for almost five years, had a nice relationship with both the staff and the master’s family. Unfortunately, there came a time when the master’s wine business started not doing so well and he decided to let go of some servants, including me.”

That was a euphemism. The Garrels had been close to bankruptcy after Diluc Ravigndr returned to Mondstadt and took back the reins of Dawn Winery, crystalizing its hegemony in the wine market. Though Hitomi’s story was entirely fabricated, you had been able to closely watch these developments unfold; you had been hired to transmit the Garrels’ trade secrets to their Fontainian competitors, which accelerated their fall. It was only due to their long-standing connections that the Garrel name continued to hold some relevance.

“Fortunately, I was directed to the chief retainer of the Vézina’s household, who then hired me. Their staff was smaller, so I had more attributions, like doing laundry and light cooking, in addition to keeping the estate clean and helping organize social gatherings as well.”

“And then you stayed with the Vézinas until just before you came to Inazuma, was that it?” inquired Thoma, to which you nodded. “How was their reaction to your leaving?”

“They were very supportive. They were not happy at first, but they understood that it had always been my family’s dream to come back to Inazuma. Now with the repeal of the Sakoku Decree, there was nothing stopping me from finally doing it.”

Thoma smiled. “It is important to chase after your dreams. Speaking of the Vézinas… I suppose you were acquainted with Christopher while you worked there?”

Years working undercover had taught you that, no matter how tightly a cover story was woven, it was impossible to cover everything. There would always be a detail impossible to uncover beforehand, people who unexpectedly knew each other despite living thousands of kilometers apart.

You had trained many years for these nightmare scenarios and yet every time they were equally nerve-wrecking.

Placing a finger on your chin, you hummed before answering, “I’ve met quite a few Christophers in the past few years… Which one do you have in mind?”

“He worked as a servant for the Vézinas before coming to Inazuma almost three years ago,” Thoma provided helpfully. “Today he is a merchant. He has taken the name ‘Kurisu’ and is the president of the International Trade Association in Ritou.”

You were aware of the existence of the International Trade Association, but little beyond that. Back in Fontaine, you had deemed there was not much to gain from making a connection with the Association and thus relegated it to a footnote in your final report. You had no idea who Christopher was or his background.

Your alternatives were appalling. You had already mentioned that the Vézinas had a small staff, so it would have been odd for Hitomi not to have met him while both had been working there. If Thoma asked more about him, however, chances were you would say something wrong and compromise your position. On the other hand, if you denied knowing him, Thoma might get suspicious. You decided to risk it.

“Oh yes, I remember him. We did not work very closely together, but I saw him around.”

“Really?” Thoma’s smile remained as carefree as ever, but something shifted in his aura. His next words left no doubt about that. “Funny how, when I spoke to him yesterday, he had never heard of you.”

That was a low blow, but that was to be expected. You furrowed your brows, looking offended.

“Sure, we did not work much together, but I didn’t expect his memory to be so bad,” you said.  Thoma looked thoughtful for a moment.

“That is indeed weird… What was it that he worked with again?”

Under the table, you dug your nails into your fists. He was toying with you. And you were playing along. This interview was going very badly very quickly.

Strings of information flowed around in your mind, everything you had learned about Inazuma, everything that connected it to Fontaine. Your brain was screaming for you to have a sudden realization, a brilliant way out of that conversation. Thousands of words got stuck at your mouth but did not leave it.

Faced with your silence, Thoma leaned slightly forward. You did not miss the way one of his hands dropped under the table. If he wanted to draw a weapon, that would be the perfect position to do so.

“Or maybe you are confused about that?”

All your options were bad, that was clear. But you had practiced for that kind of thing as well. You had one last shot.

“Alright, you already know, drop the façade,” you said, your tone stern as you crossed your arms over your chest. “The letters of recommendation are fake. I had a friend back in Fontaine make them. I’ve never worked for the Vézinas nor the Garrels.”

Thoma raised his eyebrows. He was probably expecting you to insist on that story a while longer. He recovered quickly, though.

“You have gone through great lengths to get close to the Kamisatos. Why?”

“Why would I not want to land a job with the currently most stable and prestigious Clan of the Tri-Commission?” you spat defensively. “It is no secret that the Kujou and the Hiiragi Clans are in an extremely fragilized position and highly unwilling to hire new people. I’ve been in this country for almost two months and haven’t found anything to support myself on the long run. Yoimiya has been a blessing, but even with her help I’m not able to afford a place of my own. I’m getting desperate. At least working for noble clans tends to be a stable job, which in Inazuma right now is a miracle.”

Your assessment of the country’s economic situation was true. Not only returnees, but regular Narukami islanders had been struggling to make ends meet since the end of the war, especially as the market adjusted to the new reality of foreign competition. The explanation did not seem far-fetched – or so you hoped.

Thoma’s expression did not change. “And yet, you already arrived with fraudulent recommendation letters. Doesn’t that seem too desperate?”

You huffed, mustering all of your irritation with the man and turning it into righteous indignation. “Do you know how hard it is to sustain oneself in Inazuma with no family, no connections, nothing? To be treated with suspicion just because you grew up abroad? It doesn’t matter if you look like them, you will always be an outlander.”

The slamming of doors. Glares from merchants. Oton’s cart full of fish, the odor becoming unbearable under the summer sun.

A light squeeze on your hand. “Don’t worry, [Y/N]-chan. We will manage to sell everything tomorrow.”

You clenched your fists more tightly.

“My dads gave their blood and life for this country and even that did not matter. They were treated as pariahs for having moved to Fontaine. Without any leverage, people here would not even look at them twice.”

They were the most beautiful dolls. Otogi wood was not easy to shape but in your Papa’s hands it seemed to bend like clay, assuming whatever form he willed.

No one knew who had set fire to the stand. No, that was wrong. They probably did. But no one would ever tell.

“If you do not have a sponsor, a name to give you credibility, you get as much attention as trash on the side of the road. So yes, I am sorry for having resorted to subterfuges to get your attention. But I wouldn’t have done anything differently, because I know what would have happened if I had gotten here empty-handed.”

Despite your attempts to control your breath, it was still very much accelerated. Memories that you had fought years to suppress were now leaking through the seams and trying to drown you under. You almost wanted to, to curse that country, its Archon, and all of its people. But you had a job to do and that was a crucial moment. If you could not quell your anger, you would turn it into something productive.

You uncrossed your arms and gazed unflinchingly into Thoma’s eyes.

“My name is Shigurai Hitomi. I am the daughter of merchants. I grew up in Fontaine doing odd jobs assisting in various shops and running errands around the city. I learn and adapt quickly. When I set my eyes on a goal, I never give up. And I would like to serve the Kamisato Clan and help them shape Inazuma into something we can all be proud of.”

You scooched back from the table and bowed, touching your forehead to the floor. The support of your hands on the ground was the only thing stopping your body from shaking. In the predictable silence that followed, you reviewed your words and tried to assess your performance.

It had certainly been intense. Just enough chunks of truth amidst the lies to give more credibility. Baptiste would have approved. You realized, however, that you had at one point said “dads” – Hitomi had one father and one mother. You hoped Thoma had not paid attention to the slip or would dismiss it on account of your outburst.

When you deemed that the silence had been held for long enough – about ten seconds –, you lifted your head. You were just quick enough to notice how Thoma’s smile had faltered and something akin to pity flashed in his eyes. As soon as your eyes met his, he blinked and buried down whatever emotion he was feeling.

You deemed that an auspicious reaction. Thoma had certainly faced his fair share of hardships in Inazuma before being taken in by the Kamisatos. Perhaps your words resonated with him.

At last, Thoma spoke and he was unable to conceal the effort it took him to keep his voice leveled. “This Inazuma you speak of, the Inazuma you remember… It has changed. Maybe not completely. There’s still a lot of work to be done. But it’s changing. As ironic as it may sound.”

You stood quiet, pondering his words with skepticism. It was true that you had been welcomed in Inazuma more warmly than before, but that was just because the country was too broken by the civil war to hold on to its previous standards. Give it some time and returnees would go back to being little better than outlanders.

“Miss Kamisato had a meeting with Yoimiya a few days ago.” You let the surprise show in your eyes. Yoimiya had not mentioned that to you. “She really vouched for you, you know? Said you are hardworking and committed. Saimon Eri and Saimon Katsumi also spoke well of you.”

You should not have been so surprised that Thoma had found out where you had been lodging and contacted the Saimons. Any relatively diligent retainer would have taken such precautions. Still, that thought had slipped you completely over the past few days.

Suddenly, Thoma’s demeanor shifted and he let out a chuckle. “I gotta say, lying is not a good way to start a relationship with your potential employer. But, despite everything, Miss Kamisato has decided to give you a chance.”

Your heart skipped a beat. You scanned Thoma’s face for any signs of deception but the Mondstadter only confirmed his previous words. “Miss Kamisato has decided to hire you as a servant.”

You wanted to scream, to jump, to shove Sylvain’s face onto the ground. Instead, you bowed again and said, “Miss Kamisato is very generous.”

A smile spread across Thoma’s lips. “That she is. And it is my job to ensure that this generosity does not backfire.”

It did not take you much to understand those words for what they were. A warning. A threat. You might have been admitted into the household, but Thoma was far from trusting you. That was fair. You would work your way towards that slowly, as you always did.

“Would a week be fine for you to wrap up what you need to in the city and go to the estate?”

“Absolutely. Thank you, Thoma.”

“Then that settles it. Congratulations on the new job, Hitomi.” He sat up and you followed the cue, bowing once more before heading to the exit. Before you were at the door, you heard Thoma exclaim. You turned to look at him. “Oh! Seems like I’ve made a mistake. Kurisu never worked for the Vézinas. I got confused. He has always been an independent merchant. Good thing we cleared this all up, right?”

Heat instantly surged across your face. The smile Thoma wore left no doubt. He had bluffed all along and you had believed him. Played by a housekeeper.

“Anyway. I’ll see you next week, Hitomi!”

That night, you apologized profusely to the Saimons and gave them enough mora to buy a new rake to replace the one you had broken in half when you returned to Konda Village.

You had underestimated Thoma. You would not do so again.

Chapter Text

Elke was in a foul mood. You kept that observation to yourself. Had you said that out loud, Sylvain would have taken the opportunity to mock you – “isn’t she always?” – as though he hadn’t understood what you meant. Because yes, Elke was never in a good mood, but her bad moods were especially tragic. If he hadn’t learned that yet, he would soon enough – he had barely been around for two years, after all.

And because you were familiar with Elke’s moods, you knew how to approach your senior in those delicate moments. That was a good skill to have. Even if it meant that you often had to play courier pigeon between Baptiste and Elke when the former decided that engaging with his assistant was not worth his time. Like now, when he needed Elke to get over whatever news their informant in Mondstadt had given in his last letter before Elke had ripped it to pieces in a fit of rage and stormed to her study.

“I need the blueprints from the Bouissous’ manor, she should have finished them by now,” Baptiste had told you without lifting his eyes from the latest issue of the Steambird.

 In fifteen minutes, you were knocking on Elke’s door with a plate of biscuits on hand. You heard grumbling from the other side, which was enough acquiescence for you to go in.

"What does he want now?” the woman snapped as soon as you took the first step in, not bothering to turn to look at you. Elke was bending over the desk, pretending to analyze something on the scattered maps, her intricate braids coiled up tightly around the back of her head. You took advantage of that to roll your eyes.

“I just brought some biscuits.”

Elke sighed, walked up to you in large strides, snatched the plate from your hand, and went back to the desk. You gritted your teeth, thanking inwardly the fact that you had already eaten a few biscuits before coming.

You knew you should just mention the blueprints and be on your way, but the curiosity over the tidings Elke had received that morning was eating your insides. It was only natural. You worked with intelligence-gathering, after all. So you quietly paced around the room, pretending to be absorbed by the boards full of maps, pictures, newspaper clippings, and connecting red string hanging from the walls. Most of those were from jobs that were close to completion, so the information was not new to you. You just needed to tire Elke out enough so that the woman would acknowledge your presence.

That goal was achieved when you made the motion to touch one of the pictures and have a better look. The next moment you were jumping back, dodging by a hair the stapler that Elke had thrown at you.

"You look with your eyes, not your fingers.”

“My fingers bring things closer to my eyes.”

“Then you need glasses. Not my problem.”

You glared but did not retort.

As intended, it did not take a full minute after that for Elke to lean her back against the desk and, crossing her arms over her chest, ask you, “How old are you again? Twelve?”

“Fourteen!” Your birthday had been just the previous month and Elke had eaten two slices of the cake Baptiste had provided. Not that Elke remembered such insignificant details, clearly.

"Fourteen, heh…” Elke let out a chuckle devoid of humor. “Just imagine. You, right now, leading an entire division of people, coordinating each of their actions towards a greater goal. Doing my job, let’s say. Could you do it?”

No. You could not. Not when you considered the gap in your level of experience. But you would be damned if you admitted that to Elke.

“Sure could.”

The woman scoffed. “Contrary to what you may believe, saying that does not make you sound like less of a child. You’ve barely lived, you’re arrogant, you’ve always had things handed to you, and suddenly you have the power to make calls that could decide other people’s lives?”

Something told you that she was not talking about you anymore. Or about a hypothetical situation. But it was just a hunch.

“I could learn. I’m smart,” you shrugged, provoking Elke to continue. And so Elke did.

“And how many losses we would have taken until you learned, huh? By the time you got the hang of the job, the entire organization might already be ruined because of your inexperience. But no, no one thinks of that, you’ve just got to have a rich dad and the entire city will coming running to kiss your ass.”

Elke slammed a fist on the table, causing pens and pencils to jump. You pursed your lips, digesting the new information and combining it with what you knew about Elke.

“So… some rich kid got a leadership position in the Knights of Favonius?”

Elke was far too irritated to scold you for your snooping. Instead, the woman continued her rant.

“Cavalry Captain. One of the most exposed positions they have- can you even imagine a 14-year-old leading a cavalry? He probably can’t even get on the horse without help! I knew that the Knights were a bunch of incompetent buffoons, but that’s a whole new level.”

The woman shoved a biscuit into her mouth, munching as though she was crunching bones.

“You know, when Varka banished me, he gave this whole speech about maintaining the chivalric code and how my actions disgraced the Order. But somehow he thinks making a pubescent boy captain and sending him to war is so, so knightly.”

You knitted your brows. “Mondstadt is at war?”

“All countries are. Some just haven’t realized it yet,” Elke chuckled drily. You nodded in agreement. Of course, it was a war for resources, for information, against marginalized groups, against those monsters from the Abyss no one truly understood. Elke had a point. In all but one thing.

“I don’t know why you even care anymore,” you remarked as you stretched your arms. “They turned their backs on you, you turn your back on them. And then whatever problem they have is not yours.”

It had been almost nine years, after all, since Baptiste had tracked down Elke and offered the former Intelligence Captain of the Knights of Favonius a job where she could put her skills at use without having anyone questioning her methods. If there was someone who could overlook bribery, coercion, and torture, that someone was he, after all.

Strangely, your words seemed to stifle the flames in Elke’s eyes. When she looked at you, it was not with the usual rage or annoyance. She seemed tired.

“Old habits die hard, I guess.” Elke blinked and, in a flash, the anger was back. “Now stop bothering me. Go play hopscotch or whatever it is you do.”

You grimaced and rolled your eyes at Elke. She had never even seen you play hopscotch, or any other childish game. As you turned around, though, you remembered something.

“The Bouissou blueprints.”

Elke pointed to a cluster of papers on the corner of a bookshelf. “Take them. And tell that damned slacker that, next time he wants to check on my work, he’d better come do it himself.”

“You tell him that, then. Wouldn’t want you to be the slacker.”

You rushed out of the door and had just closed it when you heard the sound of ceramic shattering against the wood. You dashed to Baptiste’s office, holding the blueprints close to your chest.

Unlike Sylvain and Karina, who often expressed contempt towards the servants of noble families in Fontaine, you had always felt sympathy towards them. The work was as dull as it was demanding – waking up before sunrise, ensuring that the masters would have everything they could possibly need for the day ready at the tips of their fingers, redoubling efforts if there were any guests. Putting up with the masters was often a trial in its own right. The Fontainian high society was not known for its cordiality, especially towards employees.

You had not expected your job with the Kamisatos to be much different. Inazumans were notoriously particular about hierarchy, after all.

To your surprise, the general atmosphere at the Kamisato Estate was quite relaxed. Ayaka herself was there beside the Chief Retainer to welcome you on your first day and make sure that you had settled in fine. You were provided with a bedroom in the servants’ quarters with a bed, a desk, a closet, and a small but welcome view of the garden. There were only three servant rooms – yours, Thoma’s, and old lady Furuta’s – seeing as the rest of the staff lived outside of the estate.

Indeed, there were much fewer servants than you had expected for such an important Clan. Aside from the samurai responsible for the security of the Estate, only Thoma and Furuta occupied themselves directly with matters of the household – and given Furuta’s advanced age and the sluggishness of her movements, you surmised she was there more as a relic than as a valuable addition to the housekeeping team. Three other servants dealt with administrative matters of the Yashiro Commission – with which Thoma was also famously involved – and one Shrine Maiden was stationed there as a permanent liaison between the Commission and Guuji Yae. All of them cordially welcomed you into their midst, some even insisting that you could reach out to them should you need any help while getting used to the functioning of the estate. Soon enough, you were integrated into their routine.

You saw Ayaka with relative frequency, even if only briefly. The Kamisato heron divided her time between managing the cultural affairs of the Yashiro Commission, overseeing the estate, and practicing her sword art. In the few moments of relaxation you had seen her enjoy, Ayaka would sit in the garden with a cup of tea and a book. Her requests towards you were few and always politely worded, almost as if attending to her was not the core of your job.

The Yashiro Commissioner, on the other hand, had a far more hectic schedule. Whenever he was not cooped up in his study, he was out attending meetings with government officials. Regardless of the situation, the man made it a point to move as discreetly as possible and You had barely caught two glimpses of him during this period.

All things considered, the beginning of your time at the Kamisato household seemed auspicious enough. Except, of course, for one detail.

“Hitomi, could you come polish the silverware?”

“Hitomi, that part over there needs more sweeping.”

“Hitomi, that’s a bit too much salt. Could you start over?”

“Garden time! Hitomi, you take the left and I take the right?”

“Hitomi, I’m going to need you to dust the dining room again for tonight.”

You could hear his voice even in your sleep, requesting your help with a series of menial tasks and preventing you from having time to formulate a single coherent thought, let alone proceed with your true job at the estate. Ayaka had once mentioned that they needed another pair of hands to reduce Thoma’s workload. That was clearly not happening; even though Thoma would always keep you busy, he would never leave you alone. Whatever tasks you had, he arranged to be close by, watching you like a hawk. More often than not, he asked you to redo some of the chores because the first attempt had been insufficient – not that he ever said that, no, as Thoma was an adept of constructive criticism.

All this time, you had not been able to get even within a few meters from Ayato’s and Ayaka’s private studies. Thoma always left the cleaning of those rooms to himself and directed you to help Furuta with something else in the meantime. That was a problem. There was only so much information you could try to gather about the Kamisato Clan’s connections with Watatsumi in violation of the cease-fire agreement without having the opportunity to search their papers.

You knew, of course, that the infiltration had started on a more negative note than initially foreseen. Thoma was still suspicious of your motives and, during your last week working at Naganohara Fireworks, you had managed to catch a few hints that someone was tailing you – someone staring from afar, an uneasy feeling of being watched, your last offering at the Hanamizaka shrine not quite where you had left it. It had certainly been someone from the Yashiro Commission, as those hints stopped once you moved to the Kamisato Estate. You had not been bothered, instead making sure to show them how ordinary and uninteresting the life of Shigurai Hitomi was.

That had meant that you had to be extra careful with how you transmitted the message in the sachet to Sylvain, though. You had started paying the Hanamizaka shrine visits more often and even at the Kamisato Estate you kept the appearance of religious fervor for a few weeks by praying at the small shrine near the entrance – although your prayers were silent recitations of your favorite rock’n’roll songs. Each time you left a sachet, but only one in Hanamizaka actually contained the coded message to your partner: Got in. Proceed as planned. You did not propose a date for a next meeting, not knowing when you would be able to go to Inazuma City again, despite Yoimiya’s insistent pleas for you “not to be a stranger” and visit from time to time.

Such complex operations took time. You knew that. The clients knew that. And you had time. The peace talks between the Shogunate and Sangonomiya had reached a stalemate; Watatsumi was either pushing for greater autonomy than they ever had or complete independence from Inazuma – the reports were conflicting about what exactly they wanted, but clarifying that was beyond your scope. Despite the Yashiro Commission’s attempts to revert the situation, the Kanjou and Tenryou Commissions were adamant about maintaining the economic embargo, preventing anyone in Inazuman territory from trading with Watatsumi, which in turn had led Liyue, Mondstadt, and Fontaine to also cease formal trade with the island for fear of retaliation from the Shogunate – Narukami and Ritou were far more attractive markets, after all. Sumeru still kept some of their trade routes with Watatsumi, but that had never been their focus anyway, and Natlan had long given up on overseas trade. As for Snezhnaya, they were apparently intent on becoming persona non grata throughout Teyvat; how they expected to maintain their economy with such serious diplomatic incidents, you had no idea.

There were no signs of that scenario’s changing in the foreseeable future. Yes, you had time to work on winning the Kamisatos’ trust. Still. The lack of any developments, minor as they might be, after one month and a half of employment were driving you crazy.

It was then that you decided to risk a nightly visit to the Yashiro Commissioner’s office. You did not expect to get into the room; evidently the door would be locked, but, if you started studying the locking mechanism little by little each night, you might figure out a way to surreptitiously undo it. It was better than spending the night reviewing Thoma’s instructions on how to improve your miso ramen.

You chose a day when you had seen the Yashiro Commissioner retire to his chambers for the night – Ayato had the unbecoming habit of sleeping in his office from time to time. You got up at around three in the morning, well past the time the household had gone to sleep and before the staff awoke. You had prepared for that the entire week, memorizing which wooden tiles creaked and learning to avoid them while moving in the dark. The estate was eerily quiet, with your carefully calculated steps, it would remain that way.

At first sight, the door to the Commissioner’s office was no different from any of the others in the part of the estate where the family and guests transited. A dark aralia wood shoji, unsuspecting in all but the intricate metal lock where the two panels met. After waiting a couple of seconds and making sure you did not hear anything, you took the lockpicks out of your pockets and started working.

The lock was a complex one indeed. It took you half an hour to hear the first click and even then the panels did not budge, meaning there was more than one mechanism securing them in place. You kept working on it for another half an hour before deciding it was too risky to continue that night. You redid the lock by applying pressure in the reverse sense and sneaked back into your room before the first rays of sunlight sprouted.

Two days later, you tried again. The first lock opened more easily this time, but you were still having trouble with the second one. No matter. With time, you would get it.

Your third lockpicking night had started as inconspicuously as the other two. On the way to the Commissioner’s office stood the kitchen, its lights off as usual. You did not think twice about moving past it. It was by pure chance that you turned your head to look inside as the passed by the doorframe. And though there was no light, your eyes were accustomed enough to the darkness to see a silhouette inside, sitting at the table.

You immediately halted and your breath hitched. That was enough for the figure to move. With a snap of fingers, there was light.

“Hitomi, is that you?”

Thoma stared at you with wide eyes, a small flame swaying on his index finger. For a second, You stiffened, thinking he might have set up a trap for you, but you quickly dismissed that idea. He looked genuinely surprised to see you. His hair was disheveled in a way you had never seen before, out of its usual ponytail and without the black headband. The bags under his eyes were more noticeable and the skin around his eyes was reddish as if he had been rubbing it for a while. This was definitely the look of a man who had not been expecting company.

“Holy- Thoma, you scared me,” you said, breathing a sigh.

“Sorry about that.” Thoma got up and lit a proper lamp, stifling the fire on his finger. “What are you doing up at this hour?”

“Couldn’t sleep, thought I would make myself a drink. You?”

“Same, actually.” He gestured to the able, where you now noticed lay a half-drunk cup of tea. “There’s still some tea left, would you like to have it?”

“Sure.” It was not like you could go back to your original plan anyway. You would have to come back another night.

You stepped into the kitchen and took a seat at the table as Thoma poured the rest of the tea into another cup for you. You took an unenthusiastic sip. For a moment, you two stood in silence. An awkward one. Thoma was still visibly organizing his thoughts after your sudden intrusion. For once, he did not sport an easy smile or that confident attitude of someone who was prepared to deal with anything life threw at him.

After everything he had made – and been making – you go through, you could not help but feel a petty kind of satisfaction at seeing him in that state. Judging by his behavior and the ungodly hour, he had probably had some kind of nightmare. As much as you would have loved to drag his discomfort as much for a while longer, or at least prod to know what exactly had happened, you could not afford to get further on Thoma’s bad side.

“So. This is good tea,” you offered, expertly slipping into character.

Thoma opened a small smile, glad for the conversation started. “Thank you. I got the herbs from Hinata from Konda Village.”

“I remember him. The Saimons usually buy from him as well.” You took another sip. The tea was not bad. Hōjicha was not that bitter and had a pleasant nutty flavor. However, it was still tea. “I don’t suppose you have a good coffee supplier as well?”

“Ah, finally missing the Fontainian way of life?” Thoma teased, but there was no bite to it.

“Missing my comfort beverage.” You sighed longingly, allowing yourself at least that truthful complaint.

“I don’t think anyone in the city sells it. Maybe in Ritou, since it’s where most international merchants are. Although… may I recommend not drinking coffee at three in the morning?”

“In my defense, I hardly think a Mondstadter can lecture me about drinking choices.”

Thoma snorted and shook his head. “Would you believe if I told you this Mondstadter does not drink alcohol?”

“Absolutely not.” You leaned back on the chair and crossed your arms, a smirk coming easily to your lips. “I think Barbatos himself would reappear and revoke your citizenship in that case.”

“To be fair, he is the god of freedom, including freedom not to drink. But yeah, I guess I am a rarity in that regard. I just can’t handle my alcohol very well, so I started drinking less and less until I barely did anymore.”

You tucked that piece of information away in your brain, in the “potential blackmailing material” folder. As much as Thoma seemed to have his guard down at that moment, probably given his sleep deprivation, it was better not to push your luck by overstaying in the kitchen.

You drank the rest of the tea in one gulp, thanked Thoma, and headed back to your room, fully intending on resuming your work with the Commissioner’s lock the following night.

Nevertheless, when that night came and the staff was retiring to bed, Thoma approached you with a tray on his hands. A ceramic jug and cup lay on it.

“Some hōjicha tea for the night,” he explained. “So you don’t have to bother wandering around.”

There it was. The smile that did not reach his eyes, the cutting edge to his words. Despite how disarmed he had seemed the previous night, Thoma had recovered his suspiciousness towards you.

You took the tray from him, clenching at the edges as though you wished to crush the wood with your bare hands – you did.

“Thank you, Thoma, you’re so thoughtful.”

You would not be getting near that office any time soon now. Not while you had a feeling that a certain blond retainer would be camping in the kitchen every night.

From then on, you kept your eyes acutely open for any opportunity to get closer to the Commissioner’s office. One such occasion seemed to appear the day when Madarame Hyakubei, one of the retainers who worked directly with matters of the Yashiro Commission, always frowning and muttering about commissioners from the locals, entered the estate carrying a pile of papers so tall it obscured his face. Seeing a disaster in the making, you rushed over to him.

“Madarame, need some help with that?”

“Why, yes, thank you, Hitomi,” the man sighed, allowing you to take the upper half of the pile into your hands. “I need to review some requests we have gotten from the people in the city, but these ones are ready for the Commissioner to check. Could you please take them to his office?”

You suppressed a smile. At least you would have the opportunity to see what the inside of the office was like, even if briefly.

“Absolutely. I’ll get goi-”

“Hitomi! I’ve been looking all over for you.”

You flinched, gritting your teeth so you would not let the curses flying around in your mind escape. In a matter of seconds, Thoma was standing beside you and taking the papers off your hands.

“Furuta needs your help in the garden today. Could you please go find her? I can deliver these to Lord Kamisato.”

“Oh, in this case, I will leave them to you, Thoma,” Madarame said, quickly excusing himself so he could finish sorting out the latest requests.

You fought to keep your expression neutral, but the frustration of over a month of having your every step watched was finally getting to you. This did not go unnoticed by Thoma.

“What’s with the long face, Hitomi? If I didn’t know better, I would say you don’t like having me around.”

You smiled through gritted teeth. “If I didn’t know better, I would say that you are afraid of letting me out of your sight.”

Thoma let out a laugh that was just a pitch too high to be genuine. “Haha! Now, why would I be? It’s not like I have anything to worry about, right?”

“Right.”

“Well, Furuta is right over there waiting for you. We can talk more later.”

With that, Thoma strode off, though you noticed he had entered the building only when you were close enough to Furuta not to escape the old lady’s attention.

That was getting ridiculous. For over a month, you had played the part perfectly, doing everything Thoma asked of you and behaving as the model of a diligent house servant, and yet his suspicions about you had not abated even slightly. No matter how small an opening you managed to find into the Kamisatos’ more private matters, Thoma was right behind you and ready to block it. The fact that he would not even let you peak into the Kamisatos’ offices was a testament to how little he trusted you.

“Hitomi, are you paying attention? You seem distracted.”

You blinked, the red in your vision slowly receding as your eyes focused on Furuta. You smiled at the older woman.

“Apologies, Ma’am. But yes, I was listening. You wanted me to plant some camellias, right?”

“Precisely.” Furuta returned the smile, glad that she did not have to repeat herself. “You see, when late Lady Kayo was alive, this garden was full of the most exquisite kinds of flowers from all over Teyvat. It was a sight to behold. Young Miss Kamisato would often accompany Lady Kayo and sit among the flowers to read. But after she and the former Commissioner passed, many of the servants left, and there was no one to take care of the garden with the zeal it required. Thoma tried to, of course, but he had so many other responsibilities already. As for me, well, my back really was not suited anymore for all the bending and crouching. So over the years the garden became more… functional.”

You could see what she meant. The garden around the estate was well taken care of, but quite minimalist. A few trees and bushes located at strategic points, white pebbles spread over a part of the grass to make the atmosphere lighter, and small ponds surrounded by artificially placed rocks. It was aesthetically pleasing, but it did not come close to the sense of exuberance that Furuta’s memories evoked.

“I have no illusions about getting the garden back to what it was, but I at least wanted to put up some flowers for the young lady.”

“It is a wonderful idea,” You agreed, eyeing the white camellia seedlings set aside for the planting. There were about twenty of them. You could finish the task quickly and try to find another excuse to enter the Commissioner’s office. “Let’s get to work then.”

You bent down to pick up the seedlings, only to halt at Furuta’s giggle.

“Oh dear, no, leave the seedlings there. They are the last thing we need. If we’re lucky and you’re fast enough, they might be ready to be planted tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” It was still the middle of the afternoon.

You could swear there was a hint of mischievousness in Furuta’s smile as the old woman led you to the spot chosen for the flowers.

It was then that you learned that planting flowers required more than digging a hole, putting the seeds inside, and pouring a bucket of water over them. A lot more.

First, you had to demarcate the flower bed with small stones. That alone took half an hour because Furuta kept changing her mind about how much room the camellias needed. Then, you had to cut and remove the patches of grass within the demarcated space with a shovel. Furuta patiently instructed you on the correct technique, warning you when the cut was too deep or too shallow, or some of the grass remained.

“You should not be so impatient,” Furuta chided with an air of someone who had repeated those words a thousand times to a thousand youngsters. “It’s better to be thorough and get it right the first time than to have to redo it later.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” you muttered through gritted teeth.

“You know, many people do gardening as a form of relaxation.”

“Maybe they need to check the dictionary.”

“What was that, child?”

“I said it is a fascinating choice of hobby.”

It turned out that rolling the grass was the easiest way to remove it after cutting. Still, that was not enough to get rid of all the vegetation, and the area needed to be completely clean for the flowers. You had to crawl over the bed looking for tiny specs of plant life and pluck them out one by one, with Furuta looking over your shoulder and pointing to spots you might have missed.

“Excellent, Hitomi. We will continue tomorrow.”

“What? Why?” The sun was just beginning to set – Furuta had not been wrong in her estimate of the time it would take to complete the planting. Still, it was not so dark yet and You were anxious to get as much done as possible. But Furuta was having none of it.

“The next step is turning the soil over, but it is too dry right now. If you try to do it right now, it will just harm the soil. Tomorrow morning it should be moist, and then we can proceed.”

Sadly, you had no argument against that, only complaints, which you kept to yourself. Your energy would be better spent masking your frustration and trying not to stab Thoma. Those efforts were clearly necessary for, as soon as you stepped inside the main building, the blond was there looking for you with his characteristic cheery smile.

“Hey, Hitomi! Good to see you’re done for the day. Miss Kamisato asked you to join her for tea this evening.”

You frowned. That was unusual. And distressing. If Ayaka wanted to have a word with you, she could have summoned you at any time; masters and servants did not simply have tea together. If the Shirasagi Himegimi had bothered to come up with this kind of excuse to see you, she must have intended to bring up a very unsavory topic.

“Do you know what she wants to discuss?”

Thoma shrugged. “She didn’t mention anything. She probably wants to check how you’re settling in, though.”

You bit back a remark on how you would be settling in much better if not for his constant surveillance of your activities. The fact that his alertness was absolutely warranted did not make it less unpleasant.

You wasted no time going to your room and changing from your dirt-stained clothes into something cleaner and less worn down. When you got to the tearoom, Ayaka was already there and rose to greet you. The Shirasagi Himegimi truly was something else; You could not think of any other noblewoman who would stand up to greet a servant, as though the gap between their positions were not the depth of the Chasm. Yet, she maintained the poise and formality required of someone of her station.

“Thank you for joining me today, Hitomi,” Ayaka said with a smile as you took a seat at the table across from her. In addition to the tea, there were a few rice cakes, probably prepared by Thoma. Out of spite, you decided you would wait until Ayaka tried the first one, in case he had finally developed a convoluted plan to poison you.

“I have been meaning to invite you for a while, but the past month has been quite busy,” Ayaka smiled apologetically. “I wanted to ask how you have been finding your employment here.”

“You shouldn’t have gone through the trouble, milady,” you gave a light bow with your head. “Everything has been wonderful and I truly appreciate the opportunity. I hope I can meet your expectations as well.”

“That is good to hear. I hope you haven’t been overworked. The estate is not so big, but there are always things to do.”

“Not at all, milady. My work here pales in comparison to everything you and Lord Kamisato do for our country.”

Scripted responses to scripted questions. You dreaded that kind of conversation without substance and fervently hoped that Ayaka had not called you just to go through the protocol.

“You are too kind. But the ones who truly carry this country are the people of Inazuma. We from the Tri-Commission just seek to assist however we can.” Ayaka’s tender gaze and smile told you that she truly believed that. It was as endearing as it was naïve. Then again, Ayaka did not deal directly with government matters; perhaps the Commissioner had been sparing her of the dirty details of how a country was run.

Before you could finish processing those thoughts, Ayaka continued, “From what I understand, the functioning of the Commissions is quite particular to Inazuma. How does it work in Fontaine?”

“It is quite different indeed. There the laws are issued directly by the Hydro Archon and the Justices are responsible for determining whether they are being followed and what the punishment for infractions shall be. We have seven court circuits at the Palais de Justice, each responsible for judging certain kinds of crimes. The higher the circuit, the graver the crime of the accused. The seventh circuit is presided by the Chief Justice herself, Foçalors. From what I’ve heard, it’s been centuries since someone has been tried at the seventh circuit. But even in the first circuits, punishment for misdemeanors tends to be quite severe to avoid recidivism.”

Ayaka nodded thoughtfully. “It must be challenging, even for an Archon, to keep up with all the changes within a country and adapt the laws accordingly all by oneself.”

“I suppose this is why many of the laws have somewhat of an open-ended meaning and can be interpreted differently according to the context.”

There existed a saying in Fontaine: “the law is the judge”. Not only did this refer to the Hydro Archon, who was at the same time the Supreme Magistrate and the source of law of Fontaine, but to the Justices’ rather wide margin of discretion when interpreting the norms.

That is what they called it. Discretion. Never arbitrariness. Justice was what Fontaine was known for, after all.

“And how would you compare it to Inazuma? Have you found many notable differences?”

Despite Ayaka’s carefully crafted façade of politeness, you could see her eyes gleaming in anticipation. The conversation you had once had with Yoimiya about Ayaka’s interest in foreign cultures replayed in your mind, and then you understood it.

Ayaka was a fish trapped inside a bowl. Observing the world around her with those bright blue eyes, intent on absorbing any and every detail, but unable to ever leap out. She would grab any chunks of the outside she could, even if they choked her. Now that was an interesting opportunity.

Your lips broke into a grin.

“Oh, Fontaine is so lively, milady. You would not believe…”

You described the waterfalls near Petrichor and the new prototypes of submarine waveriders that were being tested there. You talked about the music and explained that the more classical chanson style lived on the streets in harmony with rock’n’roll, though you kept your enthusiasm about the latter contained, as you thought it would not suit Ayaka’s tastes. You watched as Ayaka marveled at the description of the bakeries and promised to make Dancing Delights more often. You even told Ayaka the history behind the stained glass panels of the Palais de Justice, how centuries ago an inventor had been commissioned to create a means to imbue the glass with Hydro energy so that it always looked like waves and ripples of water were dancing around the images – and how this same inventor had been found dead in his office but a few days after completing the commission, taking his trade secrets with him to the grave.

Throughout the conversation, Ayaka made few interventions, always in that pleasant but contained tone, but you could see she was listening with deep concentration. Her questions were precise and insightful, prodding you to delve into the most interesting details about the Land of Justice, even if some of the information was carefully omitted. It was not convenient to bring to the Shirasagi Himegimi’s attention that Fontaine was the home to the greatest black market of Liyuean minerals or that sickness was spreading at an alarming rate among the poorest groups of the population due to water pollution.

The tea eventually came to an end and the rice cakes were eaten – you were almost disappointed to find that Thoma had not poisoned them; at least then you would have had an excuse to physically assault him. You had spent almost two hours talking and, through it all, Ayaka never gave signs of impatience or boredom. Rather, you had the impression that she could have kept inquiring about Fontaine for a few more hours had she not noticed the moon settled high in the sky.

Ayaka rose, which was your clue to do the same and gather the plates and cups to the kitchen.

“Thank you very much, Hitomi. It was a pleasure to talk to you and hear such fascinating stories.”

“The pleasure is all mine, milady. Whenever you wish to hear more, I will gladly oblige. I could also try to get you some Fontainian literature, if you are interested.”

And whenever you ran out of things to talk about in relation to Fontaine, you could always bring up your travels to other countries to keep your employer interested.

Ayaka opened a small smile. “That would be wonderful. I do believe that literature is one of the best ways to understand another nation’s culture.”

You bowed and turned to see yourself out, when Ayaka called to you again.

“Hitomi, one last thing, if I may.” Ayaka had her hands folded in front of her waist. An indication of nervousness, completely in contrast to how confident the noblewoman had seemed throughout the meal. The pause was longer as well, as though she was still unsure of her next words – something that, from what you had seen and heard so far, did not happen often. At last, Ayaka seemed to come to a resolution and spoke, “I see that you and Thoma have been working very hard these past weeks. Please remember to take time for yourself as well. And please remind Thoma to do the same. I fear he has been overworking himself lately.”

Behind your unassuming smile and nod, gears and cogs turned. That remark could have been taken as something casual, a kindhearted mistress worried about the wellbeing of her retainers. If not for the shift in Ayaka’s posture, you would have dismissed it.

You then remembered when you all had met at Naganohara Fireworks, Ayaka’s insistence that they should hire someone to lighten Thoma’s workload. The state you had found Thoma in the kitchen that night.

There was something troubling the Kamisato Clan’s chief retainer. And you would be a fool not to find a way to take advantage of that.

The next day, as soon as you had swallowed the last bit of your natto, Furuta was already summoning you to continue the work on the flower beds. As the old lady had foreseen, the soil was moister and easier to manipulate in the morning. You turned the soil over with a shovel, careful not to spread too much dirt beyond the demarcating stones. You then applied the compost Furuta had reserved, raked the soil, and turned it over again.

You could barely believe it when the time for placing the seedlings finally came. Furuta, in turn, not only could believe it but was intent on scrutinizing the minimum details of your work.

“Dig a little deeper, Hitomi. No, not so much. You have to put more space in between the camellias, how do you expect them to grow?” And then, almost as if she knew about your history of violence with plants and derived materials, she added, “Be gentle with them, be gentle.”

You took deep breaths, telling yourself that the ordeal was almost over anyway, and would be so more quickly if you did not mess it up. So it was with exceptional care that you planted the soon-to-be camellias on the ground, letting Furuta inspect each one before moving on to the next.

Furuta smiled approvingly when she saw all the seedlings in place and pictured the garden that would soon sprout.

“Excellent, Hitomi, thank you very much. I am sure the young lady will appreciate it immensely.”

You beamed at these words. After the previous night, you had moved getting close to Ayaka quite a few ranks higher in your list of priorities. If flowers were the way to go, you were willing to fill the entire garden with them. Though, hopefully, it would not come to it.

From the corner of your eye, you saw Thoma approaching them and bit back a groan. It hadn’t even been five minutes.

“Hey there! Good to see you’re finished up with the garden. Listen, I have some errands to run around Inazuma City today and-”

“-and I’m coming with, is that it?” you deadpanned.

Thoma chuckled. “You catch on quickly. Let’s get going then!”

Objectively speaking, having the chance to go to the city was good for you. It had been over a month since you had last been there, which meant over a month since you had had contact with Sylvain and the other Croque-mitaines. You needed to find an excuse to make more regular trips there. It would be good as well to catch some of the gossip on the streets, stay up to date with how the Inazuman population was faring.

Even more so, it could be an interesting opportunity to learn more about Thoma and figure out his weaknesses. If you paid enough attention and steered the conversation in the right direction, you might just come across something useful.

You only hoped that you would be able to keep your irritation with the housekeeper sufficiently at bay to take advantage of the situation.

The road from the Kamisato Estate to Inazuma City was long, mountainous, and, if one did not know which areas to avoid, dangerous. You had more than once wondered what had made the Yashiro Commission build the headquarters so far away from the city, in contrast to the two other Commissions. This was even more puzzling considering the Yashiro Commission’s role in overseeing cultural affairs, which required constant contact with the general population. You had not yet found an answer and it would probably be impolite to ask.

The trip would take at least two hours, if they kept a good pace and made no stops. That seemed to be the goal, with how fast Thoma was walking – not that you were having any difficulty keeping up. You decided that, if you were going to milk Thoma for information, you might as well start.

“What do we have to do in the city?”

“The usual shopping. Food, extra paper supplies, some medicine for Furuta’s back, and some new batches of fireworks.”

“The Commission has been getting a lot of fireworks, are they being stocked?” you asked cautiously.

“Yes, there is going to be a festival in a few months, and we are preparing everything way in advance.”

“What kind of festival?”

Thoma shot you a lopsided grin. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to be in a dark for just a little longer. Miss Kamisato is working out the final details and she doesn’t want to disclose anything before then.”

“I see… It is a testament to how much Miss Kamisato trusts you that she lets you help with the preparations.”

He shook his head and smiled in an attempt at humility. “I’ve just been helping with this kind of thing for so long that it’s become routine.”

“You’ve been with the Kamisatos for quite a while, then,” you said, as though you had not researched his background before coming to Inazuma. Thoma had been born in Mondstadt but arrived in Inazuma when he was twelve. The circumstances of the move were unknown to you. There was some divergence in the stories as to how he had gotten the Kamisatos’ attention – some of the gossip was that the former Lord Kamisato had seen Thoma’s talent for negotiation while he worked at a merchant’s stall in Ritou, others said that Thoma himself had walked to the Yashiro Commission to request a job. From then on, all was very much public knowledge; Thoma had started doing various jobs for the Kamisatos and doing favors around Inazuma, which over the years solidified his reputation as a fixer. No, the best fixer in Inazuma. Someone cunning and resourceful. You could not lose sight of that.

“Yes, I think it’s been… twelve years already? Time sure does fly,” the housekeeper mused.

You decided to take a risk. You threw the next words with calculated casualness, “Miss Kamisato was also worried about you. That you have been overworking yourself lately.”

There it was. A light crease to his brows, tension around his shoulders. One moment and it was gone; if you had not been looking for it, you would have missed it.

“She is too kind and always worries too much. As if she and Lord Kamisato don’t do all the hard work themselves.” He chuckled to himself. “How was tea with Miss Kamisato, by the way?”

You knew deflection when you saw it – you had spent years mastering it, after all. But it would do you no good confronting Thoma about it, at least now. So you played along. “Good. Miss Kamisato is very pleasant. We talked about the life in Fontaine in comparison to Inazuma.”

“Oh? And did you come to any conclusions?”

You thought for a moment before answering. “Inazuma is less hectic. More conservative with social norms.”

“I said the same thing when I arrived.” Thoma’s shoulders relaxed and his tone was almost wistful. “Back in Mondstadt, people are much more casual to one another, even towards the noble families. There is respect, but not so much deference. Is it the same in Fontaine?”

“Not really. I guess there people will say they don’t care and then judge you behind your back.”

He frowned. “That doesn’t sound very friendly.”

“It is not.” You shook your head and changed the subject before Thoma could learn more about your disdain for the Fontainian upper crust. “Why did you decide to move to Inazuma?”

“My father is Inazuman. He moved here and I came looking for him.”

You blinked. You did not know that Thoma was half-Inazuman. Now, though, the little physical traits seemed so obvious. “Did he also get to work for the Kamisatos?”

“Oh, no. I never found him, so I’m not sure where he is.”

It took you a couple of seconds to process what he had said. The tone did not match the content. The tone was that of someone telling a funny anecdote, like the time you had tricked Sylvain into adding jueyun chilis to his milk and he had been bedridden for two days. The content was unnerving. It implied that Thoma had arrived in Inazuma alone. A child in a foreign country with no one to care for him. And yet, he had wormed himself into the inner circle of one of Inazuma’s most prestigious families.

An alarm went off in your mind, images and sounds that you did not want to deal with suddenly flashing. But something stood above all that. Anger, slowly clawing at your chest and searing your insides until your own vision seemed to be burning white. It would have been easier if you knew who the anger was directed at, but the feeling was as diffuse as it was intense. It took the pain of your fingernails digging into your palms to tether you back to the ground.

You did not look at Thoma when you spoke, “I’m sorry to hear that. That’s messed up.”

The man blinked with an air of surprise. It dawned on you that you had remained in silence for too long. Eventually, Thoma shrugged.

“It got me where I am today, so I have no complaints nor regrets.”

He had lied better at Komore Teahouse. Or perhaps you were just too familiar with that specific kind of calculated indifference.

Part of you wanted to ask more, figure out how he had managed to revert his concerning predicament and find a place within the Kamisato household, but you forced yourself to stop. Not only that would not be useful for your job, but it would just make you angrier.

The rest of the walk to Inazuma City was mostly quiet. Some small talk, mostly initiated by Thoma and from which you were able to glean little to no relevant details. They passed east of Konda Village and you were relieved that you would not have to see the Saimons and go through the many rounds of questions about your new job. You briefly wondered if Mitsue was already on her way back to Inazuma after the ordeal you had put the girl through. A pity, but unavoidable, even if the journey into the Kamisato Estate had been more turbulent than expected.

It was a little past noon when the stone stairways of the city came into view. After a quick stop for lunch at Kiminami Restaurant, where Anna insisted on giving a 40% discount on the day’s special because of Thoma’s prior assistance in securing medicine for her mother’s back, the two of you started on your errands.

Unsurprisingly, Naganohara Fireworks was at the top of the list.

“Thoma! Hitomi! It’s been too long, thought you had forgotten about me!” was Yoimiya’s excited greeting. You allowed yourself to admit that you had missed the pyrotechnician’s energy.

“Not a chance. I’ve been worrying every day about whether you’ve keeping the inventory updated,” you teased, earning an unabashed snort from Yoimiya.

“Well, you know me… Too focused on the firework-making to deal with anything else.”

“As long as you keep taking care of yourself, that’s all that matters,” Thoma said. “We are here for the batch of big animal-shaped Miss Kamisato ordered.”

“Perfect! I finished them a while ago, so I’m going to have to move some boxes out of the way. Hitomi, can you help me out?”

“Sure thing,” you promptly agreed. A few minutes of respite from Thoma’s company would do you wonders.

You followed Yoimiya inside the shop and to the back room where the fireworks were stored. As you moved the boxes, Yoimiya took the opportunity to ask about your new employment.

“So how is it going with the Kamisatos, Hitomi?”

You bit the inside of your cheek. There was a chance Yoimiya might know what kind of trouble Thoma was facing. It would be extremely reckless to ask about that directly, but, if you played your cards just right…

“It’s going well, in general. I’ve just been… a bit anxious I guess.” You bit your bottom lip. “I’m afraid I’m not doing such a good job. Thoma is very helpful, but… He’s always scrutinizing my work, I do everything he asks and it never seems quite good enough.”

“Ugh, I can imagine how stressful that must be! Guess Thoma’s a perfectionist. Have you talked to him about it?”

“No, no, no,” you said quickly. “I wouldn’t dare. I’m still new at the estate, I don’t want them to think I’m complaining. But I don’t know, he seems to be worried about something.”

“That’s not like Thoma.” Yoimiya paused and hummed thoughtfully as she handed you another box to put in the corner. Suddenly, the woman’s eyes lit up and she made a poor effort to repress a smile as she asked you, “Hey, do you remember when I asked you to keep the shop’s inventory?”

You frowned. “Uh… Not really.”

“A-ha! Exactly!” You stepped back to avoid being hit by Yoimiya’s finger shooting up to point at you. “I never asked you do to that. You did that on your own. Proactivity! Maybe that’s what’s going to put Thoma more at ease. Anticipate the household’s needs.” The blonde crossed her arms smugly and waited for your reaction.

You did not disappoint. You stared at Yoimiya with wide eyes, processing the suggestion. It was true that you had been entirely reactive during that period. Thoma was so alert and thorough that it was hard to find something to do that he had not already done or asked you to. And you had been focused on getting access to the Kamisatos’ offices.

Maybe that had been your mistake. You had let the initial detours of your journey put you on edge. You had let Sylvain’s presence irritate you and, in doing so, you had forgotten the most important instruction Baptiste had given you: “you are playing the long game.” If you were going to dispel Thoma’s suspicions about Hitomi, you needed to fully incorporate Hitomi. It was not going to be easy, nor quick. But that was the way to get the job done.

You sent Yoimiya a genuine smile. “I think you are right. I will try that. Thank you so much.”

The blonde sent you a thumbs up. “Hehe, no worries! Oh, by the way, Itto passed by a few days ago asking for you. He said that you had promised to bake Dancing Delights for a festival he is organizing.”

You bit back a groan. Of course that had completely slipped your mind. Maintaining a close relationship with Itto was hardly a priority now.

“Well, that was before I got the new job, I hardly have time for that now…”

“I figured as much, so I told him that you were now working for the Kamisatos. He was a bit mad at first, but I offered some courtesy fireworks and he calmed down. Madam Kujou confiscated all of the posters, but I managed to grab one before that.”

Yoimiya pulled a piece of paper from her pocket and handed it to you.

“‘The Almighty Arataki Great and Glorious Drumalong Festival’,” you read, unable to keep the sarcasm off your tone. “I thought this was supposed to be a celebration for Shinobu’s graduation? And he made it about him?”

“Oh, that Itto…” Yoimiya shook her head. “Anyway, I might stop by to check it out. Do you and Thoma want to join?”

“I think our schedule’s pretty rushed today. Maybe some other time.”

Yoimiya finally found the box intended for the Kamisatos and the two of you returned to the front counter, where Thoma awaited you. Yoimiya put down the box with a relieved sigh.

“There you go! So many fireworks. I’m getting anxious to see them in action!” She wiggled her eyebrows in a very conspicuous attempt to get Thoma to tell her what the fireworks were for. Sadly, for her, Thoma was tight-lipped.

“Ah, and you will! When Miss Kamisato announces the details of the festival, you’ll be one of the first to know.”

“Make me the first and I’ll add a special batch of Taroumarou-shaped fireworks just for you.”

Thoma tapped a finger on his chin, pretending to ponder. At last, he grinned. “Sounds like we have a deal, Miss Yoimiya.”

“A pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Thoma,” she retorted with the same mock formality, leading both of them to chuckle.

Such a light-hearted display of camaraderie. You felt your chest suddenly tighten at the thought. You suppressed it.

Thoma’s day always began before the sunrise. He started preparing breakfast at five o’clock. A meal with steamed rice, miso soup, natto, and green tea – hearty enough to provide the Kamisatos with energy to start the day, light enough not to overwhelm them. He always set three portions aside for Furuta and now Hitomi as well, and sometimes a bit more for other retainers who maybe would arrive at the estate without proper breakfast. At six o’clock sharp, Ayato and Ayaka would be up and the hot meal would already be served.

Most of the time, it did not take him an entire hour to get breakfast done, so he took the opportunity to advance with other tasks. If lunch was going to require much preparation, he would get started with that. If not, he would dust the shelves, check if the pottery was correctly aligned, prune the bushes. Prepare any documents that Ayato and Ayaka might need to check, run any outstanding errands, do anything so that the siblings’ day could run as smoothly as possible. For those who wondered how the Kamisato Estate was run so efficiently with so little staff, they needed only check Thoma’s schedule.

(Sometimes he would take some rare moments of rest, watch the sunrise with a teacup warming his fingers with an absent-minded smile. He would feel the morning breeze caress his cheeks and his mind would wander back to a grassy hill, a white cecilias, and a loving touch he had not felt in years.

He did not do that anymore.)

That day, though, Thoma’s schedule was disrupted and due to no fault of his own. When he approached the kitchen to get breakfast started, he was assaulted by a myriad of smells and the clanking of metal pans. Brows knitted in confusion, he entered the kitchen and, though he had already an idea of who was behind the disturbance, he was still surprised.

“Hitomi?”

You took your eyes from the omelet you were carefully flipping and smiled.

“Morning, Thoma. Hope I didn’t wake you with the noise.”

“No, not at all- are you making breakfast?”

What a stupid question. Could he not see what was right in front of him? But you gulped down the hostile remarks and broadened your smile.

“Yes. Miss Kamisato had expressed interest in Fontainian cuisine before, so I offered to make her a typical Fontainian breakfast and she agreed. I hope she likes it!”

You noticed how Thoma eyed the food with badly veiled surprise. Omelets, ham, berry jam, bread, and cheese. The latter two were not of a quality as good as the ones you found in Fontaine, but they would do – it was not like Ayaka had much of a basis for comparison anyway. The only thing you had not changed was the green tea. You suspected you might cause another civil war if you were to deprive an Inazuman of their morning tea.

“This looks really good,” Thoma said after he recovered from his initial shock. “I’m sure she’ll appreciate it. It’s very similar to the kind of breakfast we have in Mondstadt too.”

“Oh, then it’s a good thing I set some of it aside for us as well.”

You deftly slid the omelet onto a plate and handed it to Thoma. He took it and sat down at the kitchen table, looking like he was mentally reassessing his chores for the day. You did not miss a beat.

“By the way, I took the opportunity to check that creaking wood plank near the entrance, it should be fixed now. And we are running out of crab roe.”

Thoma blinked and you felt a devilish satisfaction at seeing the surprise take over his face again. It felt good to have recognition for your work. Especially when you were just beginning.

You poured the tea into a mug and slid it across the table to Thoma. Your cheeks were almost starting to hurt from how much you were smiling.

“Drink up. We still have a lot of work to do.”

Chapter Text

If an artist were ever to depict tranquility, they might start with that scene. The sky covered in orange and pink hues as the sun sets down once more. The gentle cascading of the waterfalls of Petrichor echoing in the distance. Inside, a man cutting vegetables for dinner, humming a song to himself that his daughter, sprawled on the floor a few meters away with color crayons and a sketchbook, tries to mimic.

It takes a slam of the front door to put an end to it.

“Honey, I’m hooome!”

The man started, but years of practice allowed him to keep the grip on the knife and avoid an accident. He rubbed his temple. He had asked his husband so many times to tone down on those triumphant entrances, all in vain.

“Papa, not so loud! I need to concentrate!” you chided, menacingly pointing a crayon at him.

“My bad, sweetie.” Papa bowed, giving you a quick peck on the forehead. He then turned his attention to the man in the kitchen. “I couldn’t help myself. Today is a very exciting day. Today your Oton and I celebrate nine years of marria-”

“It’s next week,” Oton said without bothering to turn around.

“What? Nonsense. You think I don’t know when our wedding anniversary is?”

“Next. Wednesday.” Oton pointed to the calendar hanging on the wall. You followed with great amusement the journey of Papa’s expression from debauchedly confident to confused to panicked.

“Ha! I knew that. As I was saying, today we celebrate nine years of the week before our marriage! I was going to wait until the actual anniversary, but these arrived today and it was so, so hard to get them…”

Oton knew this was his cue to turn around, and so he did. He was immediately greeted by a bundle of soft pink petals and a subtle and delicate smell.

“Sakura blossoms,” he breathed in awe, taking the bouquet in his hands while his husband grinned madly. “But how?”

“Trust me, it wasn’t easy, but that merchant friend of yours just so happened to be going to Inazuma, so I called in a favor. I just had to cry a little bit. And maybe pay a little extra. And promise him a discount next time he buys your fish.”

“You shouldn’t have,” Oton said, but even you could see from the dazed smile on his face that he was very, very pleased with Papa’s gift.

“Anything for you,” Papa murmured in a mellow tone, leaning in to kiss his husband.

You jumped to your feet, leaving the crayons and papers scattered on the floor, and ran up to the men. “I wanna see it too! Let me see, let me see!”

“But of course! You didn’t think I had forgotten about you, did you, champ?” Papa smirked, turning around and producing another, smaller bouquet of Sakura blossoms. You took them gently, afraid that the flowers would suddenly wilt if you gripped too tightly. You brought them to your nose and sniffed deeply, slightly disappointed that the smell was so faint – but the beauty of the flower more than compensated for that.

“Did you know that these are Oton’s favorite flowers?” Papa asked in a whisper, as if letting you in on a secret.

You gasped. “They are mine too!” You had just decided that, but it didn’t matter.

“And did you know that Inazuma has a big, enormous, colossally gigantic Sakura tree blessed by the Almighty Shogun herself?”

You nodded, even though it was your first time ever hearing of it. “I wanna see it! I wanna go to Inazuma!”

“It’s quite a long trip, [Y/N]-chan,” Oton cautioned, ever the sensible one, but he could not keep the smile from his voice.

“We’ll go just the three of us, so the boat will be lighter and move faster. And- and we’ll play games to pass time. Please, I wanna see the Sakuraaaa!”

“We should arrange that someday,” Papa told Oton. He crouched until he was at your eye level and gave you the most illuminated smile. “You’ll see it. You are going to love Inazuma.”

Against all your expectations, the change in routine had done wonders for your mood. You got up at around the same time as Thoma and whoever made it to the kitchen first would get breakfast started. During the first week and a half, Thoma always made sure to be there before you, but afterwards he started arriving when you were just putting the water for the tea to boil. It was almost a competition, though you were not certain that Thoma was aware of that. Not that it mattered, as long as you could start the day enjoying the sweet taste of victory.

Your cooking of Inazuman food had improved once you started making it more often. In little time, Thoma stopped correcting the amount of spices you added and instead hummed appreciatively when he tasted what you had made. It was still nowhere as good as his own cooking – you had to admit that he was an exceptionally talented chef – but it gave you a sense of satisfaction.

Thoma still gave you directions as to what chores to take care of and when, but a few times you had managed to get ahead of him. Like ironing Ayaka’s dress beforehand when you heard that the Shirasagi Himegimi would have a meeting with Guuji Yae. Ayaka had thanked you warmly for the attentiveness, which you took as another victory.

Furuta had called you a couple of times to see the camellia seedlings. The old lady had resumed taking care of the plants herself, now that the hard part was over. Still, you had no interest in being roped into digging through the dirt again, so you always found a reason to busy yourself whenever Furuta approached you. It was not that hard; the Kamisato household did have many chores that needed to be taken care of.

None of your tasks had led you close to the Kamisato siblings’ studies. Whenever that thought wormed into your head, you swatted it away as one would a fly. Ever since that day in Inazuma City, you were committed to completely forgetting about the existence of those rooms. In fact, you barely glanced at the doors when you walked by. By convincing yourself of your disinterest and acting on it, you would eventually convince Thoma. And when you were sure his guard was down, then, and only then, you would strike.

The two of you made a few more trips to Inazuma City, buying items like groceries, fabric, and emergency health supplies (“You would not believe the amount of people who get injured in festivals,” Thoma once told you. “We hired this fire-eater once and…”). Though you already knew that Thoma was doing everything to keep you in his line of sight, those trips made it glaringly obvious. Your presence was wholly unnecessary; Thoma did all the talking, negotiated the delivery arrangements, and, above all, bargained with a fierceness that might have left the Liyue Tianquan in tears.

Just the sight of him was enough for the merchants’ countenance to shift. They would open a smile and reduce prices without being asked to, and then finally agree to reduce them a bit more when asked. Some were more reluctant than others, recalling favors that they had done to the Yashiro Commission in the past, but they eventually relented, knowing that being in the Commission’s good graces would compensate them soon enough. Most of them, however, recalled instead favors that Thoma had done to them and were more than willing to show their continued gratitude and support. It was clear that Thoma had worked many years to build that sort of reputation. You could not help but think that Baptiste would be impressed.

His latest orders had been as expected; since the infiltration had – finally – been successful, you were to continue ingratiating yourself with the Kamisatos, figuring out what kind of deals they had with Watatsumi, and reporting to Sylvain. That last part was tricky. Since Thoma would not let you go farther than ten meters without following, you had not been able to actually meet with Sylvain, but only exchange short messages under the excuse of placing offerings at the Hanamizaka shrine. Messages that made it painfully clear how irritated Sylvain was with your lack of privacy.

When you were back in your room at the Kamisato Estate, after letting the black ribbon soak in water for a few minutes, you read the revealed message: The housekeeper is in the way. Get rid of him.

You rolled your eyes. “Get rid of him,” you repeated in a mocking tone one octave higher than Sylvain’s actual voice. “Just shoot him with your water gun or something, you coward.”

You lit a match and burned the ribbon for safety.

As you exited the room and made your way to the kitchen, where you knew mountains of dirty dishes awaited, a call from Ayaka stopped you.

“Hitomi, would you have a second?” As if you would ever say no to your employer. Still, you nodded, prodding the noblewoman to continue. “I got the impression from our last conversation that you are well-versed in Fontainian music, is that right?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say well-versed,” you started, confused. You prayed to whichever Archon could hear that Ayaka would not ask you to try to play a song from Fontaine. Or worse, sing. “I enjoy it very much, but it is not something I have ever studied or have a talent for.”

“That is not a problem,” Ayaka reassured you with a smile. “Actually, I just wanted to know if you could make me a list with the names of musicians that are popular in Fontaine.”

“Of course, milady. Though I’m not sure which of them would cater to your tastes exactly…”

“No, don’t worry about that. Please, just add the ones you like. You mentioned that this rock’n’roll genre is quite appreciated there, correct?”

You blinked to keep your eyes from widening. Ayaka had truly been paying attention to your ramblings. You had limited your references to rock music as much as you could, and yet Ayaka remembered.

“Correct. Yes, I will do that. If it is not impertinent of me, may I ask what this is for?”

Ayaka allowed herself a small giggle. For a second, with the mischievous gleam that flashed across her eyes, she resembled her brother even more.

“I have to ask you to wait for now. But you will know soon.”

You nodded and excused yourself.

It did not take you long to piece together the puzzle. Thoma had mentioned that the Commission was getting ready to prepare a festival but would not disclose the details for the time being. Now Ayaka asked for suggestions of Fontainian musicians and would not tell you why? Clearly they were planning to have some of these musicians play at the festival. You wondered if you could influence Ayaka’s decision somehow and get a good rock group to come. You would consider it a late “treat yourself” gift for getting into the Kamisato household. Too bad that your favorite rock singer of all time was not from Fontaine.

Knowing about the piles of dirty dishes beforehand did not make them look any less daunting. In fact, one of the piles rose as high as your forehead. You tried to hide your exasperation behind a smile as you positioned yourself at the sink, but it was visibly half-hearted. At the counter beside you, you could see Thoma repress a chuckle as he chopped vegetables for dinner. He was wearing a ridiculous yellow apron with dog paw prints.

“Are you sure that’s all?” you asked pointedly, gesturing to the dishes. Thoma paused and seemed to think for a second.

“Oh, actually,” he took a frying pan and placed it on top of the tallest pile, which now successfully surpassed your head. “Thank you for reminding me.”

“I will take this as a lesson in keeping my mouth shut.”

This time Thoma did snicker, slowly shaking his head as the continued to dice the tomatoes. You got to work, starting with that last frying pan.

“Hey, Hitomi,” he called over the sound of your scrubbing. “You know that the Yashiro Commission sometimes trades festival products with merchants from abroad, right?”

You nodded. After the repeal of the Sakoku Decree, many Inazuman merchants were struggling to get their products to foreign markets. Maritime transportation was expensive, and few international partners wanted to bear the costs of by themselves. The way the Yashiro Commission had found to minimize that problem had been to lower export taxes, buy from merchants that were not able to afford the costs of shipping, and work cheaper and more efficient arrangements for the goods to leave Inazuma in bulk. The hope was that, in the long run, Inazuman merchants would gather enough resources and expertise to arrange that themselves.

“Well, a shipment of ours is leaving from Ritou tomorrow and someone from the Commission needs to be there to check if everything is in order. So we are leaving for Ritou tomorrow morning.”

The teacup that you were washing slipped from your hands. Thankfully, the sink was filled with water, so the ceramic survived intact. Thoma did not even notice. And you knew better than to protest, despite the tightening in your chest.

“Sure.”

Ritou was the closest island to Narukami and yet they seemed worlds apart. None of Narukami’s violet tint reached Ritou. There were no Sakura blooms in sight, no electro crystals sprouting randomly from rocks, not even onikabuto. Instead, Ritou was red. On the rooftops, on the ground, and on the wind that filled the space in between, maple leaves traveled as if they were intent on colonizing every inch of the island. In wintery days of pale blue sky, their crimson hue provided the most breathtaking contrast.

At the outskirts of Ritou, just next to the harbor, there should be a small house with a dark green roof that was never free of leaves, thanks to the maple tree that surely was still there in the courtyard. The house should only have a small kitchen and two equally small bedrooms. There should be a woman living there, and a child – no, a teenager, almost an adult by now.

You had not checked whether the house was still there when you first arrived in Ritou a few months before. You had gotten through the Kanjou Commission’s customs check as fast as you could and darted off to Narukami without looking back. Doing so now, in Thoma’s presence, was out of question. It did not matter, you did not want to know. There was no reason to. It would do you no good.

You just wanted to see if the front door was still stained with your blood-

You shut your eyes and shook your head. Thoma raised his eyebrows at you.

“Just a fly passing by,” you said.

“Well, we made it,” Thoma announced, ignoring your remark. “We have a little bit of time before we have to dispatch the goods, so why don’t we have lunch first?”

You shrugged. “Sure.”

Thoma stared at you. You stared back. Something in his eyes seemed to soften and that immediately made yours harden.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, why?” you crossed your arms over your chest, your tone steely. Thoma continued to stare.

“You’ve been quieter today. We walked for almost three hours and you didn’t make any sarcastic remarks.”

“I thought you didn’t appreciate my sarcasm.”

“Come on now, I never said that!” his pitch rose in mock offense. Then, in a more serious tone, he added, “And that’s not what’s bothering you.”

While Thoma’s alertness was certainly the bane of your existence, you were thankful for it at that moment. It reminded you that you could not falter in your role.

So you rolled your eyes and said, “After such a long walk without eating, I’m surprised that you are so chatty.”

Without waiting for his reply, you walked off and sat down on one of the benches around the main square. A tall maple tree stood at the center of the square, surrounded by a wooden fence from where white paper lanterns hung. Around its roots and spreading a few meters beyond was a bright tapestry of leaves. To some, it might have looked beautiful. To you, it looked like the tree was bleeding and no one was doing anything to stop it.

Thoma sat down beside you and pulled two lunchboxes out of his bag. It was only when the smell hit your nose that you realized you were truly hungry. You picked up the chopsticks and started eating in silence.

Sylvain was somewhere on the island, lying low until it was time to go to Narukami again. You scanned your surroundings for any signs of him, thankful when you found none. You did not need the stress of his presence that day.

You then turned your attention to the shops around the square, the smiling merchants trying to beckon people near, the passersby. There were many more foreigners there than in Narukami, and more than you remembered ever seeing in Inazuma. That surprised you. Why did they not just go home? Could they not feel they were not welcome? Hadn’t that been clear enough from the Kanjou Commission’s essentially turning Ritou into a buffer zone for outlanders?

Your musings were interrupted by the sound of Thoma’s voice.

“Oh, hey there, buddy! Did you catch the smell of tasty food?”

You froze. Beside Thoma, with its tongue lolling out and bright eyes staring intently at the lunchbox, was a large orange and white dog. Probably one of the dozens of strays that roamed Ritou.

You slowly scooched to the side, trying to put more distance between yourself and the canine. The dog seemed to notice, for it turned its eyes to you. You held your breath, not daring to look away.

“Hitomi?” Thoma called. His eyes traveled from you to the dog and the confusion in them melted into something else. He put a hand over the dog’s chest, gently blocking its advance. “Are you afraid of dogs?”

“No,” you replied curtly, still refusing to tear your eyes from the dog, in case it attacked.

“You don’t seem very comfortable around them…”

“I don’t like dogs and they don’t like me. That’s it.”

Thoma looked like he was about to insist when the dog suddenly lurched forward, sniffing into your food. You wasted no time jumping to your feet and out of the dog’s reach, knocking your lunchbox and all its contents onto the ground in the process. The dog let out an excited bark and buried its mug into the food.

Your chest heaved as you took a couple of steps farther away from the dog. With a quick glance around, you noticed many people at the square were staring at you with curious wide eyes. It was only then that you realized you had screamed.

Before you could devise an explanation for your behavior, you felt a grip on your wrist. You jolted and almost let out a yelp but bit your lip in time. Thoma relaxed his hold but kept his hand on your wrist.

“Come on. Let’s go somewhere else.”

You were in no state to protest and thus simply followed Thoma up a path of nearby stairs. He found another bench and guided you to sit down beside him. He offered you his lunchbox and, when you did not take it, placed it on your lap.

“No, it’s your lunch.”

“I’ve already had a hearty breakfast, I’m fine. And if we get hungry afterwards, we can buy something nice at the market.” Thoma paused. He lowered his tone. “I’m sorry. I should have noticed sooner. I remember that you were uncomfortable around Taroumarou too. Are you okay?”

 “I’m not-” You halted. What use was denying it at that point? “I’m fine. I’ve just had bad experiences with dogs, so I don’t like them.”

Bad experiences with dogs in Ritou. Bad experiences with dogs in Ritou stealing your food, to be even more precise. You still had a scar on your right biceps where a dog had sunk its teeth before running away with the sausage you had fought so hard to obtain.

“I see… I’m sorry about that. It’s hard to overcome these kinds of things, but, you know, dogs can be great friends too.”

“I’m not interested in being friends with something that attacks me just for a bit of food.”

“That certainly doesn’t sound very pleasant,” Thoma agreed with just the barest hint of a smile. He turned his head to gaze at the square, now a few meters down below them. A few more dogs had joined the feast that was supposed to have been your lunch. “These street dogs, they have been through a lot. They don’t have anyone to care for them and sometimes people around here mistreat them. So they act aggressively because they are afraid. But if you show them a little bit of kindness, they start to open up.”

“Yeah, right,” you mumbled, unconvinced. Thoma did not reply, but instead turned to stare at you. His brow was slightly creased, just enough to show that the wheels of his brain were in motion.

A light lit up in your mind.

“For Archons’ sake, stop giving me that look.”

“W-what?” Thoma stuttered, taken aback by the sudden hostility. You rolled your eyes.

“You were comparing me to a dog in your head just now.”

“No, I wasn’t!” But the way he sheepishly avoided your gaze told you everything.

“I can read it in your face.”

“Well, erm- If I had been, which is not to say I was, it wouldn’t have been a bad thing! I mean, I was just telling you how great dogs are.”

Before you could retort, another voice interrupted you.

“Thoma? My, it’s been a while! How have you been?”

A man with straw-blond hair dressed in the typical Fontainian fashion, with a black hat and a black vest over a burgundy-colored shirt, approached you.

“Hi, Kurisu! I’ve been fine, thank you for asking. What about you? How is business?”

The man, Kurisu, gave a tight smile. “As good as can be, I should say. We have been having some issues with deliveries due to a new band of vagrants that has been acting up in the Byakko Plain. The Shugosha, they call themselves. They seem to have a preference for targeting outlanders, to our misfortune.”

Thoma frowned. “Have you warned the Tenryou Commission about this?”

“Yes, but so far they haven’t been able to apprehend them. I guess that stellar detective of theirs isn’t on this case, huh…”

You listened to the conversation, trying to pinpoint from where you knew the man. Suddenly, it hit you. Kurisu – or better yet, Christopher was the one whose name Thoma had invoked to trick you during your job interview.

And Thoma clearly remembered that as well, considering the width of the grin that popped up on his face.

“By the way, Kurisu, this is Hitomi. She grew up in Fontaine and she has been working at the Kamisato Estate with me. I don’t suppose you know each other?”

“I don’t think we do! Pleased to make your acquaintance, Hitomi.”

“Likewise, Kurisu.” As you stepped forward to shake his hand, you made sure that a part of your foot stepped on Thoma’s. A small act of retribution, after all, he was enjoying himself way too much. He winced slightly but said nothing.

“Well, I have to get back to the International Trade Association, but it was nice catching up. I hope to see you soon, Thoma!”

As Kurisu walked away, Thoma turned to you in a low voice. “Well, now you can say you know him.”

“Are you ever going to let me live that down?”

“Probably someday. Not today, though. Now finish up your lunch, it’s almost time for us to meet the transporter.”

You insisted that you and Thoma share the lunchbox. The last thing you wanted was to owe any sort of debt to a fixer, let alone that fixer. As soon as you were done, you headed down to the harbor. Thoma immediately located the one you were supposed to meet.

“Hello, Muzhen! How is it going?”

A woman with long black hair tied into a braid waved back.

“The captain didn’t come this time?” Thoma asked, looking around as you approached.

“She had some business to deal with back in Liyue, so she only sent a few of us this time. The others should be somewhere in town trying to find sake.”

You eyed the crates next to them and immediately recognized a few.

“You also have a deal with Yoimiya to sell her fireworks overseas?”

“Yes. They are very popular in Liyue, especially for the Lantern Rite,” Thoma explained.

That was new information. You did not recall Yoimiya mentioning that before.

“Anyway, I’ll check them quickly. Hitomi, hold this for me?”

He handed you a few pieces of paper, which you gave a quick read-over. It was a detailed invoice of the transaction between the Yashiro Commission and a buyer in Liuye. Unlike in Fontaine, where invoices for international transactions were written in the common tongue, this one was entirely in Inazuman. Typical; they never sought to make it easier for anyone.

All of the goods being sold were listed there: fireworks, lanterns, a plethora of food and drinks. Nothing out of the ordinary. You continued to scan the document until you spotted the name of the buyer: 真木 (まき). Maki.

You frowned. That was not a Liyuean name. So the buyer in Liyue was either Inazuman or, like you, of Inazuman ascent. That did not mean much, but, as you were looking for any traces of collusion between the Yashiro Commission and Watatsumi, any little coincidence could be a lead. You tucked the information at the back of your mind and pretended not to have given the papers any relevance when Thoma finished his inspection of the crates.

Muzhen then handed him some other papers, probably the invoices from previous transactions in Liyue, as requested per Inazuman tax regulations. Thoma read them attentively before nodding.

“All in order. Now please sign here, Muzhen…” The woman took a pencil and swiftly scribbled the characters for her name. “Great. All done! Do you need help loading the crates onto the ship?”

“Nah, don’t worry about it. The guys should be heading back soon anyway. Thanks, Thoma!”

“Well, our main order of business for today is taken care of,” he said, turning to you.

You hoped that meant you would immediately return to the estate.

“Now, there are some new shops in town that we should get a look at, see if the merchants are settling in well or need any help.”

Of course, luck was never on your side.

“Come on, this way.”

He led you through some streets to the left side of the harbor, walking ahead but never too far to lose you in the crowd that never seemed to leave Ritou. You followed him automatically, paying little attention to your surroundings.

Someone bumped into your shoulder, causing you to hiss and glare, but the person had already moved on. The moment of pause led you to glance down for a brief second. You immediately spotted a drawing on the ground. It was a bit faded, clearly something painted and repainted many times over the years. A crab and a lobster shaking hands.

Your eyes shot up and you saw the merchant stand in front of the drawing. Ayame’s Seafood Sensational’s.

“We don’t need any fish from you.”

She remembered that. Oton had fallen over that drawing. You had started crying.

“It’s not worth it, Hikaru. Let’s just go.”

But if that was there…

“We can’t let them treat-”

Your legs trembled as you continued to follow Thoma down the street.

“Let’s. Go.”

Someone had grabbed Papa’s arm.

“Quiet. Make her shut up.”

A knife pointed at Oton’s ribs.

“[Y/N]-chan, it’s okay.”

Just up ahead…

“I swear, we don’t have any Mora. We struggle to get by just as you do.”

You were back.

It was a narrow alley, between a teahouse and a spice shop. The spice shop had already been closed at that hour. The teashop had probably been noisy with clients. That was why no one had heard.

Or no one had cared.

“Shit, shit, what did you do?”

“I thought he was going to pull out a knife!”

There had been so much blood. Where had it all gone?

“Hitomi?”

You almost lost your balance, forcefully yanked back to reality at the sound of Thoma’s voice. The alley still stood before you, empty save for a few wooden boxes piled up in a corner.

“Are you okay? You look pale.”

“Yeah,” you croaked. Then you repeated more strongly, “yeah. It’s just… so clean here.”

Thoma quirked an eyebrow. “I guess? Are you sure you don’t want to sit down?”

You shook your head and gathered whatever strength you had left to walk away. Your gait was stiff, but at least you did not stumble.

“Well, hello, there! Interested in some jewelry? I have this bracelet that would look amazing on you!”

You barely registered those words had been directed at you. In fact, you only noticed when Thoma put a hand on your shoulder and turned to address the merchant.

“I think we’re fine, thank you.”

The merchant, a dark-haired youth with a bowl cut and brown eyes, was not ready to give up.

“Come on, you don’t want to miss this opportunity! All of our goods are made from legit Liyuean noctilucous jade! Not very easy to find, if I may say so.”

You lifted your eyes to look at the man, trying to focus on anything that was not the alley a few meters behind you. He looked eerily familiar and, even through the haziness of your mind, it did not take you long to figure out why.

 “Saimon.”

“Uh?” The man blinked in surprise. “Yes, that’s me, Saimon Jirou. Do we know each other?”

You shook your head. Fortunately, Thoma answered in your stead.

“Oh, yes! Hitomi rented a room with your parents back in Konda Village for a while. They are very kind people.”

“I see! Glad to hear that the old man hasn’t been too lonely without me around. I really should pay them a visit soon.”

“So you have been living in Ritou now?”

“Yes. I met this guy from Liyue and he had a lot of ideas on how to market noctilucous jade here, but he didn’t know the local market, you see? So I stepped in and we started to…”

You tried to focus on the conversation, you really did. But within a few seconds, his words became little more than buzzing in your mind.

No matter how hard you shut your eyes, you could see them. They were blurry, but that made it worse. You could not remember if Oton’s mole was on his left or right cheek. If Papa had dimples. What they looked like when they smiled. You only saw contorted mouths. Glassy eyes. It was all wrong. That was not supposed to be how you remembered them.

Thoma was still enthralled in his conversation with Jirou, listening and nodding attentively. Without a sound, you stepped away from them.

You did not know what you expected to gain from seeing the alley again. If you thought that would be a way of facing your fears and overcome them. Or if you just wanted to lay there and beg for your dads to come back. Or to take you.

You stepped in. It was the same as before. Gray cobblestones. No blood. No sign that anything out of the ordinary had ever happened there.

It was wrong. How dare the Land of Eternity wipe away the signs of your fathers’ presence as though they had not been its children?

You could feel the tips of your fingers getting colder, as though a chilly wind current had just blown. It did not take long until blotched spots started to appear around your vision and you dropped to your knees, fearing you might trip.

From that angle, it looked even more familiar. Silhouettes arguing around you. A flash of silver. And red. So much red.

You tried to anchor yourself to reality, to dig your nails into the dirt and remember where you were. But you were trembling too much, there was so much blood, so much, you could not even see where the cracks between the cobblestones were the air smelled so tangy why was it so cold why could you hear their screams but not remember their voices whydidtheyleaveyoulikethis whydidtheytakeyouthere whywhywhy-

The ground was not red anymore, but a very light shade of yellow. You felt the liquid dripping down your lips and chin but could not find the control over your muscles to wipe it off. Even when the pungent smell started to make your stomach churn again, you could not move.

Just as you were about to double over once more, you felt a gentle touch on your back and a hand pushing the strands of hair away from your face. You did not look to see who it was. His voice reached you clearly throughout the muddy puddle that your mind had turned into.

“Don’t hold it in, it’ll just be worse. Let everything out.”

And so you did, puking until your throat started to ache while Thoma held your hair back. When it seemed that there was nothing more inside of you to come out, Thoma moved his hands to your shoulders, giving you the support your arms could no longer bear to.

“Just focus on my voice, Hitomi. Let’s do it together. Breathe in. Now hold one… two… three… breathe out. In… one… two… three… Now out…”

Had your mind been functional, you might have simply flicked Thoma’s nose for talking to you like that, as if you were a scared child. But you felt very much like one at that moment. And so you obeyed Thoma’s commands with mechanic precision.

When your breathing had evened out and your trembling stopped, you felt Thoma gingerly nudging your shoulders back. “I’m going to move you just over there, okay?”

By then, you had already regained some semblance of clarity and shook your head. You shook your shoulders to displace Thoma’s hands, which he reluctantly removed, but kept close in case you needed support. You sat down and dragged yourself in the most dignified way possible towards the opposite wall of the alley, to where the blond had gestured. You leaned your back against the wall and closed your eyes for a moment. It was not long until he sat beside you.

The pair stood in silence. You were still trying to regain control over your limbs and, at the same time, figure out how you were supposed to face Thoma now. Aside from the general embarrassment of having another person watch you puke your guts out, there was the issue that Thoma would certainly want to know what was wrong with you. He was responsible for overseeing the other retainers and assess whether they were fully capable of performing their functions. Such a display in the middle of the street was dangerous – it could be seen as harmful to the reputation of the Kamisato Clan or even to your reliability. He could not let that episode slide. You had to ensure him that would never happen again.

But what were you supposed to tell him? This is the spot where my dads were murdered, but don’t worry – as long as I don’t trigger any other painful memories, it should be fine? That seemed unwise.

Your thoughts were interrupted when Thoma suddenly started. He turned to you and asked, “Can you wait here for just a second?”

At your nod, the man jumped to his feet and turned right outside the alley. He came back but two minutes later with a bottle of water and napkins. He offered them to you, who wordlessly accepted and started to clean your face. Thoma sat down again. Your feet were almost touching.

“How are you feeling?” he asked in a voice much softer than his usual tone.

You could feel that your stomach was still queasy, but you doubted there was anything left to come out. The cobblestones around you were gray again. “It’s fine. Must have been something I ate.”

Thoma hummed noncommittally, not taking his eyes off you. None of you commented on the fact that you had only eaten his cooking that day, and Thoma’s dishes were nothing short of exceptional.

You figured that you should say something, dismiss any concerns and prove that you were already back on business. But you could not think of what. Before anything came to mind, Thoma spoke up.

“Have I ever told you about my first solo assignment for the Kamisatos in Ritou?”

You frowned.  What did that have to do with anything?

Taking your silence as a no, he continued.

“I must have been… what, fourteen? No, fifteen. That was the year milord gave me a drink with Snezhnayan fire-water, lavender melon, and naku weed for my birthday. I wouldn’t recommend it, by the way. I thought I would never recover my peripheral vision.” He giggled awkwardly at your horrified stare. “Anyway, I had come to Ritou to negotiate a discount with a Liyuean merchant regarding some gems that the late Lord Kamisato wanted to use for decoration for the Summer Festival. It was tough, but in the end she saw the considerable amount that the Yashiro Commission wanted to buy and accepted. She was very pleased with the deal and ended up treating me to some Black-Back Perch Stew. She kept complimenting the Jueyun Chilis, saying that they were the greatest symbol of Liyuean cuisine. I had never tried anything from Liyue, so I thought: ‘if the chilis are that good, the more the merrier, right?’”

Your jaw went slack. “You didn’t.”

“Yep. That I did.” Thoma laughed, closing his eyes as he recalled the memory. “I put ten Jueyun Chilis in my stew. No one warned me about it. Guess they thought I was really used to spicy food? It was very tasty, actually. And I was fine at first. But then when I left the merchant… oh boy, that was when my stomach started to act up. I could barely walk. And then one of the Kanjou Commission samurai came over to see what was happening and… well. You can guess.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“By the Seven, Thoma-” The scene painted itself vividly in your head: a young retainer profusely apologizing while clutching his stomach in agony, a thoroughly disgusted samurai yelling at him, covered in filth, the entire central square of Ritou watching. You put a hand to your forehead and snorted. “I can’t believe- what did you do then?”

“Besides bowing my head to the ground and begging for forgiveness? I had to wait in Ritou until the late Lord Kamisato came to assuage the situation. Almost caused a political crisis.” Thoma’s smirk told you that the ending was an exaggeration. Still, you could not help chuckling at the thought.

The way Thoma had shared the story of one of his failures so carelessly struck you. Was he not afraid that you might use that against him somehow? Mock him? Instead, there was something strangely tranquilizing about sharing a laugh about an old faux pas.

Your lips curved into an amused smile as you remembered the night when you and Sylvain had gotten your first hangover by the Pont du Mollard in the Court of Fontaine. You almost mentioned it. You remembered yourself just in time.

“How is your stomach?”

The question caught you off guard. For the briefest of moments, you had forgotten why you were sitting on that empty alley. To your greater surprise, the queasiness in your stomach had diminished and was now almost imperceptible. You lowered your gaze.

“Better.”

“That’s good,” Thoma said with a soft smile. “Keep drinking the water. It will help you stay hydrated. We don’t have to return to the Kamisato Estate today. I will send a message to let them know and we can rent a room in an inn around here.”

You stiffened. “No. I can travel.”

“It’s better not to push yourself-”

“I can do my job.”

Thoma quieted. He stared at you for a moment, something that you could not pinpoint flashing across his eyes.

“Do you think that getting back to the estate one day later would put your job at risk?”

You did not answer. He let out a small sigh.

“Hitomi, I know you can do your job. You’ve been doing everything I ask of you and more for two months. Taking care of yourself is not being weak. It’s a priority.”

Before you could say anything – not that you knew exactly what to say to that –, Thoma smiled.

“Besides, I actually happened to twist my ankle earlier when we were leaving the harbor. I didn’t say anything but oh boy, I really need to take it easy for the rest of the day!”

He then proceeded to rub his ankle and wince. You still could not believe that Thoma had played you so well that day at Komore Teahouse, seeing how abysmal his acting skills were. He succeeded, however, in getting you to accept his proposition.

Thoma got to his feet, careful not to put much weight on the allegedly twisted ankle, and extended his hand towards you. You took it.

“Ah, Thoma! I’ve barely seen you around lately,” a smiling old man greeted from behind the counter.

After getting some food and quickly stopping by a few more shops, you had walked across the town to a two-story inn closer to the exit point to Narukami. The sun had just set and Thoma had sent a bird to the Kamisato Estate explaining the recent developments. The plan was to leave first thing in the morning.

“Haven’t been able to stop at one place for long, I’m afraid.” Thoma scratched the back of his head with an apologetic smile. “How are Toshio and Haruka? Mr. Tomura’s grandkids,” he added to you.

“Getting bigger and bigger every day! They still love the stuffed puppies you made for their birthday. We will never be able to thank you enough for that, Thoma.”

That information surprised you. Had he given those gifts in exchange for a favor from the innkeeper? From the genuine way Mr. Tomura was smiling, it certainly did not seem so. Nor from the way Thoma was blushing and avoiding his gaze.

“Don’t say that, it was my pleasure! I only hope they grow up to like real puppies too!” You coughed, trying to discreetly remind the chief retainer of why you were there. “Oh, right. We would like two rooms for the night, please.”

“Absolutely! Let me just check what we have available here…” Mr. Tomura opened a notebook and started trailing down a list with his finger. He frowned. “Oh dear… We have been so busy lately. It seems we only have one room left.”

The air in the inn seemed to go completely still. For three, long seconds you just stared ahead, the innkeeper’s words registering in your brains. Then you slammed your hands on the counter.

“What?”

Mr. Tomura nodded solemnly, unfazed by your outburst.

“Yes. And with only one bed.”

A new wave of silence hung between you. Thoma stared at Mr. Tomura with eyes wide and mouth agape. One could practically hear the gears turning in his head trying to think of a solution. You only glared at the man, having already made up your mind. One of the guests was going to have a serious accident and a room would be vacated. Simple. Sad, but there was no other option. You did not make the rules.

You were about to turn around and do what must be done when Mr. Tomura suddenly burst into laughter.

“Almighty Shogun, you should have seen your faces! Hahahaha! Of course we have two rooms available! Two suites! Here, take your keys. Though, if you do want only one-”

“No, thank you,” you replied curtly, snatching the keys from the man’s hand.

Mr. Tomura was still laughing as you climbed up the stairs to the bedrooms. Thoma himself let out a small chuckle, though he promptly stopped at the sight of your glare.

Your rooms were across from one another. You hastily unlocked the door to yours, anxious to take a bath, sleep, and put that day behind you. You would have slipped into the room without another word had you not felt Thoma’s eyes trying to cave a hole on the back of your neck. You sighed.

“Thank you. For helping me out today.”

“I didn’t do much,” he said with a shake of his head. “But if you need anything, or if you want to talk, just knock on my door.”

Talking was very much the last thing you wanted.

“Yeah, sure. Good night.” You closed the door before Thoma could add anything else.

Later that night, in bed and alone, you allowed your mind to wander more freely, though you already knew where it would take you. Now that you were away from the alley, the memories were less paralyzing. But not less painful.

You sighed. Wrong place at the wrong time – the story of your life. Two amateur muggers who had panicked too soon. Papa had screamed, so they panicked again. You hadn’t. All sounds had gotten stuck in your throat as you watched a red pool form around your fathers’ bodies. That was the only reason you had been spared. You had been quiet as they ran away.

You needed to find a way to control those outbursts. Thoma had not questioned you, but the day’s events had certainly made him more suspicious. And knowing that the Kamisatos had business in Ritou, it was not unlikely that you would have to come to the city again. If something like that happened again, it could spell your end. You could not even begin to think how you would have reacted had you spotted Aunt Izumi. With your luck, you knew the old hag would still be alive.

You grabbed a pillow and pressed it against your face. You had told Baptiste sending you was a mistake. You had told him everything. You had sworn never to come back.

“Ma puce, after your last job, do you really think this is a request?”

Fuck him. Fuck Sylvain. Fuck Karina. Fuck Inazuma.

When you finally cast the pillow aside, its case was wet. You fell asleep soon afterwards.

Somehow, you got up the next morning more tired than when you had gone to sleep. You had not had any nightmares, at least none that you could remember, but your mind seemed heavier than ever. The only thing that gave you energy was knowing that you would be out of Ritou soon.

You went downstairs to the inn’s kitchen, unsurprised to find Thoma already up and finishing wiping up breakfast.

What did surprise you was the strong smoky smell that permeated the room. A smell that you had been craving for months.

“Coffee?”

As if on cue, Thoma grinned and slid you a mug across the table. You stared at your reflection on the dark liquid and almost wanted to cry.

“There was a shop right next to Saimon Jirou’s selling blends from Sumeru. I wasn’t sure which one you liked best, but, considering how you like your tea, I picked one of the strongest.”

That was exactly how you liked your coffee. For once, you were glad for Thoma’s observational skills.

“You have good taste, Miss,” Mr. Tomura, who only now you realized was at the corner of the kitchen with a coffee mug of his own, said. “This drink is a blessing of the Archons themselves.”

“It truly is,” you agreed, taking a greedy gulp off the mug. The warm liquid’s passage through your throat already felt rejuvenating.

“Is it good then?” Thoma asked earnestly.

“Perfect.” You would not hold out on compliments about something you had missed that much.

“Good to hear! I bought a few more packages so we can make it back at the estate.”

You coughed, almost choking on the coffee. You stared at Thoma with wide eyes.

“Why?”

The housekeeper’s grin widened.

“Just a little bit of kindness.”

The following day, Ayaka sought you out.

“Hitomi, do you have a minute?”

You had been dreading that moment ever since you had returned to the estate. Ayaka would certainly inquire you about what had happened in Ritou. You had spent the entire journey back formulating a convincing excuse, ready to put your best acting to test. The time was now.

“Did you have time to make the list with the Fontainian musicians I asked?”

You opened your mouth to speak but halted before any sound could come out. That was not been the question you had been expecting. Wordlessly, you pulled the list out of your pocket and handed it to Ayaka.

“Excellent. Thank you, Hitomi. Thoma also told me about the Sumerian coffee blends that you bought. I might wish to give them a try later, if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all, milady,” you said slowly, mind still reeling. “Did Thoma tell you why we spent the night in Ritou?”

A light crease came to Ayaka’s brows. “He said you had gotten extra busy with the merchants. Did something more serious happen?”

Your heart skipped a beat. He had not told her. You did not know why, what kind of game he was playing at, but he had not told her about the alley.

“Not at all, milady. He just wrote the note so fast that I was confused.”

Ayaka smiled. “I’m glad then. I need to sort out some documents now. If you need me, I will be at my study.”

You bowed and quickly excused yourself. Only to be cornered by a nervous Furuta.

“Hitomi, there you are! You won’t escape me this time. Come to the garden at once.”

You winced. “I would love to, Furuta, but I need to sweep-”

“No buts! I swear, you are worse than Koharu sometimes.”

“Furu-”

You halted when you caught the old woman’s glare. You bit back a sigh. Fine. If you had to plant more flowers, so be it. You could not afford to make an enemy out of Furuta either.

Furuta marched into the garden as quickly as her legs could carry her and, as you had predicted, stopped by the flower beds. That was when you noticed the change.

Last time you had seen them, the seedlings were shily sprouting, little specks of green amidst the dark brown earth. An unordinary and uninteresting sight, you had thought. Now they had been replaced by a field of white blossoms whose delicate petals opened up in a perfect circle. Glistening under the sun, they almost looked like tiny mounds of snow. Only their beauty was much greater. They were alive, after all.

 “You did this, Hitomi. Congratulations.”

You had done this. You had helped cultivate life.

The camellias bloomed. And right then, unbeknownst to you, something inside you started to as well.

Chapter Text

“These are the guards’ schedule the Croque-Mitaine ordered.”

You took the folder and tucked it inside your coat. You nodded curtly at the informant. He was new and Baptiste was still testing his reliability. If his information proved to be correct, they might still work with him on future operations.

You started to leave when the man called out to you.

“Wait up, girlie!”

“That is not my name and you know it.”

“Oh, sorry. [Y/N], wasn’t it? Quick question. Been wondering all afternoon. Where are you from?”

“Fontaine.”

Strangely, the man laughed. “No, I mean, where are you really from?”

You frowned, unable to understand the question. Had you not just told him? Perhaps he wanted a more specific location.

“I was born in Petrichor.”

“Right, but looking at you… and your name, and everything. I’m guessing Inazuman or Liyuean?”

Your frown deepened. “My dads were Inazuman.”

“Hah, I knew it! Got an eye for these things. So, I was wondering, in your culture-”

“My culture,” you interrupted, rage rising and dangerously close to boiling over, “is Fontainian culture. Same as yours.”

“Yeah, sure, but it’s different for you, you know?” And just as you were thinking of turning your back to him and putting that unnerving conversation to an end, he complemented. “It’s not really where your roots are.”

Later that evening, Baptiste had entered your room with a smile and a dangerous gleam in his eyes, and asked why the new informant was refusing to continue their partnership and had apparently gotten his nose broken. You were not sure how to answer. How to put it into words.

Every time you passed by the camellias you noticed something that needed to be taken care of. A tiny weed that needed to be plucked. More water. Pruning the leaves. Shooing onikabuto (perhaps you could just call Itto to come collect them). Before you knew it, you were dedicating most of your time in-between chores to ensuring the flowers were thriving.

As much as you were reluctant to admit it, Furuta had been right. Once you had gotten over the anxiousness of having to find a way into the Kamisato siblings’ studies, taking time to work on the garden was relaxing. You could be away from Thoma’s nagging and let your mind wander, but not too much. Besides, there was a sense of accomplishment in helping bring something to life.

It was also an excellent way to discreetly listen in on the staff’s gossip. Like the discussion Kazumasa and Furusawa were having then.

The two samurai were stationed within the estate that day. Perhaps emboldened by the fact that the Commissioner had been absent for the past couple of days due to a series of intense meetings at the Tenshukaku and Ayaka had also left earlier that morning, they had been complaining about the Tenryou Commission’s increase of import taxes for ore used in weapons in a not-so-subtle tone.

“I had been planning to reinforce my spear with cor lapis after the Sakoku Decree was revoked but now the amount I’ve saved won’t cover even half of it!” Furusawa whined, briefly removing his helmet and sighing.

Kazumasa nodded. “I don’t understand the reasoning behind this. It’s like they want outlanders to drain our resources. I even heard that the Kanjou Commission is planning to facilitate the obtention of work visas for foreigners.”

“Ha! That’s ridiculous! Our people have been struggling enough in this economy and now they are letting outlanders steal their jobs?”

You rolled your eyes. You had heard that flawed rhetoric before. In reality, most foreigners who managed to immigrate to Inazuma ended up with jobs that had been rejected by Inazumans because the pay was too low, or struggling to set up an independent business in Ritou.

“We’d better watch our backs too. We already have Thoma here, who knows if the Commissioner will decide to hire more outlanders.”

Your hands froze on the stem of a camellia, where you were pruning an overgrown leaf. You were an outlander. They just didn’t know. You had been born in Fontaine and spent your entire life there except for seven terrible months you wished to erase from history. Thoma had been in Inazuma for twelve years. Even if only one of his parents was Inazuman, he was way less of an outlander than you.

“Humpf. The last thing we need is another Thoma. Just thinking of that careless lazy attitude makes me want to punch something.”

Careless? Lazy? Had any of them ever seen Thoma working? How early he got up? Were they making those assumptions solely based on the fact that he was a Mondstadter?

There were plenty of reasons to hate Thoma. He was picky, annoying, nosy, cheerfully deceptive. A plethora of adjectives to choose from. Couldn’t they at least pick up the correct ones?

You felt your fists clenching, the urge to break something building inside of you. Then you noticed you were still holding the camellia. You let go of the flower quickly as if you had been burned and directed your anger towards pulling out nearby weeds. The feeling of killing something undesirable was strangely refreshing.

“Wow, you really are taking gardening seriously.”

You wanted to throw the weeds on Thoma’s face as revenge for interrupting your peace and tranquility, but opted for a sigh instead.

“Furuta can’t take care of the garden alone, it’s risky for her back.”

“Are you sure it’s not because you enjoy it?” your eye twitched. With a grin, Thoma pressed. “I mean, you were smiling earlier.”

“Are you really admitting that you’ve been watching me? That’s a bit creepy, Master Thoma.”

“I mean, I do have to supervise your work. Is that still creepy?” he retorted without missing a beat. “Anyway, we need to go to Inazuma City and buy some crab. Milord is hosting some representatives from the Kanjou Commission tomorrow night and he asked me to prepare butter crab. We can leave whenever you are ready.”

You knew there was no getting out of that errand, so you started gathering the gardening tools and putting them away. With your back turned to Thoma, you frowned in thought. If he had been watching you for a while, he should have heard the samurai’s remarks about him. But if that was the case, why hadn’t he done anything? Thoma held a position of trust and respect within the household. One word from him and the samurai would be immediately discharged. Or at the very least reminded of their place.

Maybe he hadn’t heard anything after all.

What was supposed to have been a quick errand turned into an entire ordeal. For reasons beyond mortal comprehension, all crab in Inazuma City’s shops had been sold out. You had gone to every store. You had even asked Ogura Mio and Amenoma Togou if, by any chance, they had some spare crab at home. But of course not.

“It was the same thing in Ritou…” Thoma said with a dejected sigh. “I asked Koharu to go there yesterday, since they usually have the best crabs, but she said she couldn’t find any.”

You gaped incredulously. “What the- How does all the supply of crab simply disappear from Inazuma?”

“Beats me. There must be somewhere we haven’t checked yet…”

“Yeah, like the ocean.”

You regretted those words the instant they left your mouth. Thoma froze, eyes wide. You saw the exact moment the mischievous thought took root in his brain.

“No. Oh, no, no, no, no, no.”

“Hitomi...”

“No way.”

“You’re brilliant.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“I’m not saying we actually dive into the ocean… But there is a beach nearby where you can always spot crabs running across the sand.”

“Surely milord won’t mind if you prepare another dish without crab…”

“Think of it as a lesson in being a retainer for the Kamisatos: we do all in our power for the good of the Clan.”

You gritted your teeth, swallowing your remark that Inazuman nobles could well do one night without the world bowing to their every whim. If wasting time hunting crabs was what it took for you to win Thoma’s trust, so be it.

He led you to the beach to the west of Inazuma City, not too far from where your unexpected misadventure with Itto had taken place months ago. As Thoma had promised, a few red and purple crabs were enjoying their time on the sand, oblivious to the cruel fate that awaited them.

“The trick is to move silently and then grab them quickly,” he whispered, stepping forward for a demonstration. When the crab finally noticed the man, Thoma had already swiftly swung his hand down and picked it up by its upper shell. “You have to grab them right in the middle to avoid their pincers. Got it?”

“Yep,” you deadpanned. On your right hand, a red crab wriggled its legs desperately trying to escape.

Thoma blinked. “Point taken. No more underestimating your crab hunting skills. My bad.” He tossed you a bag to put the crab in and grinned. “Even better, we’ll get this done in no time! Ideally, we need sixteen crabs. You get the ones on the right, and I get the ones on the left?”

And so you split up.

As soon as you turned your back to him, you let your face fall into a scowl. Yes, this was the culmination of all of your years working as a mercenary, moving without being seen and gathering intelligence. Crab hunting. Sylvain had better never hear about that.

You managed to catch quite a few crabs before they buried themselves under the sand. Sadly, it seemed they were warning their fellow crustaceans about the nearby predator, for finding more crabs soon became more difficult.

There was a rocky formation against the cliffside, where the coastline bent, and you could feel a faint smell of smoke coming from that direction. At that hour, it was probably a fisherman. If they had crabs, maybe you could convince them to trade a few.

So it was with great confidence that you went around the rocks and found a camp with three nobushi staring straight at you.

You froze, fingers clenching around the top of the bag. Two of the nobushi wore simple blue robes, but the third one donned a full dark purple armor covering most of his weak spots. His face was obscured by a black oni mask and a helmet from which hung the symbol of Electro. You had done enough research, listened to enough rumors to know what kind of ronin that was.

“Why, good afternoon, miss,” the kairagi spoke in a tone of mockery as he rose to his feet.

Among the ronin that roamed the Inazuman wilds, kairagi were rumored to be the worst. They did not content themselves with stealing and rarely left their victims unscathed.

Your mind raced, assessing your options. Thoma was too far away and, from behind the rocks, he would not be able to see you. You would never be able to run away fast enough on the sand. The disadvantage in numbers was too great for your odds in a direct fight to be promising. Especially one of daggers against swords.

The best strategy was to give whatever they asked for and find an opportunity to slip away. Or somehow use the element of surprise to slit their throats. Unlikely, but if you had learned anything throughout your life was how to improvise.

“Good afternoon, sirs. I was just picking up food for dinner. I will be on my way-”

“Not so fast.” The kairagi put a hand to the sword hanging from his hip but did not make a move to unsheathe it. Beside him, however, the other ronin had picked their own rusty swords off the sand and stood up. “What do you have there?”

“Just some crab.”

You held out the bag for him and the kairagi confirmed its contents.

“That’s a lot of crab for one person. Do you have family waiting at home?”

You quickly considered the question. Telling them you were a retainer for a noble family seemed unwise; most vagrants despised nobility, so they could decide to kill you simply to make a statement. You decided to appeal for some potential sentimentality.

You forced your lips to quiver as was befitting of a harmless villager.

“J-just my daughter, but- I heard that there was a s-shortage, and I was planning on trying to sell some at the market too.”

“An entrepreneur, huh? Good, our country sure needs more of those.”

Though you could not see his face, the kairagi sounded amused. Better than downright aggressive, you thought. You intensified your shakiness.

“P-please don’t hurt me. I’ll give you what I have, just let me g-go home.”

“Now, don’t worry about that. We would never harm such a hardworking compatriot, right?” The two men beside him nodded and one of them snickered. “This is not the way of the Shugosha. We are just trying to get by and ask for a little solidarity from our people. Would you be able to contribute?”

You recognized the name as the band of ronin that Kurisu had mentioned in Ritou. That was probably not the entire group, which intensified your sense of urgency in getting away from them.

“Yes, of c-course. Please take everything.”

You slowly pulled out your coin purse and handed it to one of the nobushi. It was only when you saw his eyes widening that you realized your mistake. You had forgotten how generous the Kamisatos were with the amount they gave you and Thoma for groceries.

The nobushi whistled, showing the purse to the other two.

“So, not only an entrepreneur, but a successful one?” the kairagi laughed. “Are you sure this is all you can contribute with?”

“This is all I have.” The nervousness in your tone was just starting to find some ground in reality.

“Right now, perhaps, but what about at home? Or at work? It’s not fair to keep it all to yourself when so many Inazumans are struggling.”

“I live in the c-city. I can go there and get more money.” You hoped you sounded convincing. The nobushi would never dare step foot in Inazuma City with the hordes of doushin patrolling the area. If they realized that was all they could extract from you, maybe they would just-

“That’s not a problem. We can stop at a nearby village and ask someone to fetch your things. Meanwhile, you can take some time off with us.”

A hostage situation – classic. If someone alerted the doushin, you would be killed. You yourself had had to pull off something similar with a notary in the Court of Fontaine once, while the notary’s assistant allowed Sylvain into her office.

Worse still, the nearest village was Konda, where people knew you had been hired by the Kamisatos. Someone would probably spill the beans and then you would be in even more trouble with the nobushi.

You started to feel a pit growing in your stomach. It was getting less and less likely that you would be able to get rid of them without a fight. You could probably hold them off for a while but winning was highly unlikely. If only you had a Vision – even Sylvain had gotten a Vision somehow. Why couldn’t the Archons help you out only this once?

“Hello, there! Is there any trouble?”

Well. That was not the Vision you had been hoping for, but you would take it.

Thoma put a hand on your forearm, slowly placing himself between you and the nobushi. You did not complain about the unexpected human shield.

Then you saw the shift in the nobushi’s countenance. So far, they had been in a good mood, the kind of carefree attitude one has when they know they have control over a situation. As soon as they saw Thoma, the two men whose face youcould see started sneering and even the kairagi lost some of its amused air.

“Aren’t you a bit too far from home, outlander?”

Thoma ignored the question, eyes focusing instead on the coin purse one of the men was holding.

“Oh, it seems you have my friend’s purse. Would you mind giving it back?”

The nobushi spat at Thoma’s feet. The housekeeper let out a dejected sigh.

“Come on, was that really necessary?”

“Thoma,” you hissed, fervently wishing he would draw a weapon and be done with them quickly.

“Look, we don’t want any trouble,” he continued with that usual carefree tone. “We’ll just get our things and be on our way. We can even spare a crab or two if you’d like. You would have a tough time finding any at the market right now.”

The kairagi shook his head and let out a humorless laugh. You saw his hand moving to the hilt of the sword and slowly unsheathing it.

“I believe outlanders have taken way too much of from us already.”

The other men assumed a fighting stance. Thoma sighed again.

“That is certainly a shame.” He turned his head back to you and shot you a small smirk. “Don’t get too close.”

With a flicker of his wrist, a Kitain Cross Spear suddenly materialized in his hand. The kairagi swung his sword, but the movement was deflected by a sudden burst of Pyro. You instinctively raised your hands to cover your face, but there was no need. The Pyro energy had crystalized into a shield around Thoma and you.

"I mean it, though, you should get back,” Thoma said, sending you a quick glance before stepping forward and thrusting the spear against the kairagi, who quickly dodged. You understood Thoma’s insistence when you saw the shield moving along with him; he could not cover you both at the same time without standing still.

You stepped back behind the rocks, out of the nobushi’s reach but close enough to observe the battle. Having Thoma fight back had clearly enraged the men, who were now shouting curses and trying to attack from different directions. Thoma moved with the swiftness of a trained soldier, but the shield was still crucial for him to avoid some of the blows.

The men in blue coordinated an assault from both sides, which Thoma dodged by ducking and swinging his leg, tripping one of the nobushi in the process. The other’s counterattack was fast, but it knocked harmlessly against the shield. Thoma then hit the man’s stomach with the blunt end of his spear, to your annoyance. The situation could have been resolved much more quickly if he had just been willing to go for more serious injuries, but no, Thoma never wanted to make your life easier. Or his, for that matter.

The kairagi had taken advantage of the others’ attack to charge his sword with Electro and swung against Thoma. The ensuing overload reaction was strong enough to make the shield dissipate. Some residual Electro sparks caught Thoma’s arm, but he shrugged them off and lunged at the kairagi.

The difference in their approaches was once again obvious: Thoma was fighting to disarm, while the kairagi was fighting to kill. While that would have usually given the kairagi the advantage, Thoma was clearly the better fighter. He parried the sword slashes with practiced ease and used the sharp end of the spear sparsely, tearing through the armor just enough to give the ronin light wounds. He barely used Pyro at all.

Eventually, the kairagi mis-stepped when dodging one of Thoma’s flaming attacks and the blond took the opportunity to knock the sword off his hands. The kairagi fell to his knees and, before he could scramble for his sword, the spear was at his neck.

“Let’s put an end to this. There is no need for us to fight,” the Mondstadter said calmly, looking around to the other men.

One of the nobushi looked rather panicked, glancing back and forth from the kairagi to his other companion. The second man, who had been knocked down by Thoma first, was more persistent. Already at his feet and seeing their leader subdued, he decided to put Thoma in a similar position. His eyes snapped to you and he lunged at you, sword at the ready.

“Hitomi!”

The warning was unnecessary. You had been watching the fight and noticed the nobushi’s intention. Thinking you were harmless, he did not even strike with proper form. You had no difficulty moving out of the way and slashing a dagger across his ribs. The man yelled in pain, clutching his side as he fell on the ground.

You turned to Thoma, annoyed that he had made you reveal your weapons, but saw a much more pressing situation developing. Taking advantage of Thoma’s momentary distraction, the kairagi retrieved his sword and, still on one knee, swung it against Thoma’s side. Thoma saw the crackling of Electro from the corner of his eye and activated his shield.

You were not sure if he had been fast enough, but you saw that Thoma’s momentum had not stopped as he hit the kairagi’s chest with the blunt end of the spear, knocking him down on the sand, and stomped on his chest to make sure he would not get up.

With a satisfied smirk, you eyed the remaining nobushi, who was still confused about where to settle his eyes. You decided to be cordial and assist him.

“Hé, connard,” you called, feeling a hint of vindication at hurling the insult in Fontainian. The nobushi started and turned his eyes to you. “This is the part you run.”

Personally, you would have preferred a more permanent solution to ensure the nobushi would cease to be a problem, but, seeing Thoma’s previous unwillingness to hurt them, a less bloody approach seemed merited. The man was smart enough to follow the cue, darting off on the opposite direction you and Thoma had come from.

You kept the dagger in your hand and approached Thoma and the kairagi. Even with his mask, you could tell he was seething.

“You will pay for this, outlander,” he growled.

Thoma ignored him, turning to You instead. “Are you alright?”

“Not a scratch.” You pointed your chin towards the fallen kairagi. “At least knock him out if you are not going to incapacitate him.”

“Would you do the honors?”

Rolling your eyes, you bent down and removed the helmet and the mask from the kairagi, finally seeing the rage in his black eyes. You paid it no mind as you hit his temple with the hilt of your dagger. His eyes rolled back, and he immediately fell unconscious.

Thoma took his foot off the kairagi and let out a small wince. At first, you thought it was a gesture of pity for how mercilessly you had knocked out the man. Then you saw that he had shifted the spear to his left hand, while his right one was pressed against his side. Thanks to his red jacket, it took you a few seconds longer to see the blood seeping through his fingers.

So his shield had not been fast enough. The kairagi had landed a hit.

“Holy f- Thoma, take off your jacket,” you ordered. Surprisingly, Thoma complied without hesitation and allowed you to have a closer look at the wound.

It was deep enough to need stitches, but nothing close to life-threatening. Though ill-timed, the shield had still managed to absorb some of the impact, it seemed.

You took the jacket from Thoma’s hands and pressed it against the wound, a more efficient way to stop the bleeding.

“Ouch- gentle, gentle,” he whimpered.

“I am being gentle, you’re just a baby.”

“I think Fontainians may have a different standard of gentleness altogether.”

Thoma let go of his spear, letting it vanish into the pocket dimension reserved for the weapons of Vision-holders. A new wave of pain caused him to wince and drop to his knees, holding the jacket more tightly. You crouched until you were at his eye-level, ready to support him if needed.

“Hitomi,” he called again, more breathlessly this time. “Help me get to Komore Teahouse.”

Your eyes widened. You would have slapped him had he not already been injured. “I know they say some teas have healing properties, but I don’t think they act that fast. I’m getting you to a doctor.”

“No, trust me,” his free hand grabbed yours and gave it a squeeze, reinforcing the sense of urgency. “Komore Teahouse.”

You opened your mouth to argue but closed it when you saw the hardness in his eyes. This was not some delirious state, he knew what he was doing. And that made you want to know as well.

You put his left arm around your shoulders and, before starting to stand up, you felt the weight of the dagger on your other hand. The last message Sylvain had sent you echoed in your mind.

The housekeeper is in the way. Get rid of him.

Thoma was weakened, relying on you to move. You had a dagger. It would take but one quick swipe at his throat. You could pin it on the nobushi. It was such an excellent cover. An opportunity like that would never come up again. If Sylvain were there, he would not have thought twice.

You put the dagger away.

Explaining Thoma’s death would be so messy. It could put the Kamisatos on higher alert and make your job even more difficult. Besides, even if you killed the two nobushi on the beach, one had escaped and there was no telling what he could say about you. Ironically, it seemed that Thoma would give you less trouble alive than dead.

Those were the reasons for your decision, you told yourself.

“Oh, and Hitomi?”

“Uhm?”

“Don’t forget the crabs.”

Again. The only reasons.

Hauling Thoma to Komore Teahouse was a less of a nightmare than you had imagined. Even with the pain, he tried to support his own weight as best as he could as you climbed up the wooden ramps that connected the cliff next to the beach to the city. Fortunately, it was a route that rarely had many passersby and nobody had noticed the Kamisato housekeeper’s injury.

When you tried to ask him what you would tell Kozue once you reached the teahouse, he had only laughed and told you that was the least of your worries. And, indeed, Kozue did not even bat an eye at the pair of you.

“Come inside,” she said in her usual expressionless tone, opening the door for them.

“Thank you so much, Kozue,” Thoma said with a smile. “Is Sayu around by any chance?”

“Yes, she has been hiding from Kano Nana on the roof. I will bring her down.”

None of that exchange made sense to you. Komore Teahouse was a highly exclusive establishment, as Kozue liked to remind everyone that came near. Letting a bloody, injured person in was certainly not good for business, even if that person was the chief retainer of the Kamisato Clan. Not to mention that any reasonable person would have inquired as to what had happened, whereas Kozue had seemed entirely unimpressed by the situation.

“I will explain everything,” Thoma said, noticing your quizzical expression. “Let’s just get to the room in the back first.”

You followed Thoma’s directions, thankful that the other customers at that hour were in private tearooms with the doors closed. Once in the room, Thoma leaned against a wall and slid down to the floor, letting out a sigh of relief.

“There is a medical kit in the cupboard, behind the porcelain jar.”

You promptly walked towards the cupboard, mind reeling from the sudden influx of new information. It was only when you kneeled before Thoma with the kit and a jug of water in hand that it dawned upon you.

“This is a hideout.”

Thoma’s eyes widened. “You didn’t know that?” he sounded genuinely surprised, much to your own astonishment.

“How was I supposed to know? This is one of the fanciest places in Inazuma, I’ve always thought hideouts were supposed to be inconspicuous!”

“But I thought-” Thoma caught himself before finishing the sentence. His reaction made something else click in your mind.

He knew that you had tried to get a job at Komore Teahouse before you started working with Yoimiya. Kozue had certainly warned him as soon as you had left. And that was right after you had been turned down at the Kamisato Estate and one of their retainers had suddenly quit. It was too much of a coincidence; he had assumed you had known of the teahouse’s ties to the Kamisato Clan and was trying to get close to them no matter what. That was why he had been so reluctant to give you another chance.

He had been right, only for the wrong reasons – your feeble attempt at a job at the teahouse had indeed been an unfortunate coincidence. Still, the accuracy of his suspicions was infuriating.

You took a deep breath, trying to muster some sense of calmness. Thoma could not know what you had just pieced together. So you focused on what was before you.

You opened the medical kit, took out some gauze and soaked it in water. Without needing to be told, Thoma moved his jacket, allowing you a clear view of the injury. The gash was an angry shade of red, with blood smeared all over, but the bleeding itself seemed to have subsided.

“Do you know how to treat wounds?”

“Not my top skill, but I know the basics,” you answered truthfully.

“That’s good. I just need to clean it a little bit. Once Sayu gets here, she will be able to fix it.”

So Sayu was some kind of healer, apparently. You appreciated that you would not have to be the one responsible for that. Still. Perhaps because you needed to earn his trust to complete your job, and perhaps because you were in a good mood, you said, “It will be more efficient if I clean it. Take your shirt off.”

Thoma’s muscles visibly tensed, preparing himself for more of the “Fontainian standard of gentleness”. Even so, he carefully removed his black shirt, wincing slightly when the fabric brushed against the gash.

You started to dab the wet gauze around the wound, this time truly taking care not to hurt him. You could not help but let your gaze drift. You knew that Thoma was not physically weak, with the amount of housework he did. Once you had even seen him effortlessly carry a wild boar that Hirano had hunted to the kitchen. Still, he was more toned than you had expected. Practicing with the polearm certainly helped.

Your eyes stopped on a scar on the left side of his chest, across the lower portion of his rib cage, shaped like a crescent moon. It was light, hinting at how old the injury was, but it was almost the size of your closed fist.

“Oh,” he exclaimed, following your gaze. “I had an accident on the ship when I first came to Inazuma. That one is a reminder of that.”

You hummed noncommittally, continuing your work.

You had always thought it was an effect of the jacket, but his shoulders really were broad. It almost contrasted with how lightly he carried himself. You made a mental note of that for future reference. One never knew when the need might arise.

The door to the room slid open and a small figure entered. The girl looked younger than Anaïs and Boniface, perhaps around seven years old. Her short green hair was tucked under a beige hood with dark brown ears that resembled a tanuki. After taking a better look, you saw that the back of her outfit even had a tail. The girl yawned and rubbed her eyes.

“Did you really have to wake me up?”

Thoma offered her a sheepish smile. “Sorry, Sayu. It was a bit of an emergency. I promise you can go back to napping after this.”

Sayu scowled, but she stepped forward. She did not have any reaction to the sight of the wound. In fact, she barely seemed to pay attention to anything. Instead, with a sigh, she pressed her hands together in a sequence of quick gestures. A teal light shone from her left thigh, where you noticed an Anemo Vision. The light shot out until it formed a circle around them, brimming with Anemo energy. Soon enough, Thoma’s wound began to close. Even you started to feel some of your fatigue being lifted up.

It was not your first time witnessing a Vision healing, but the process always amazed you. Wounds that would take days or weeks to close disappeared in a matter of seconds, often without any scars. Thoma’s case was no different.

“Perfect! Thank you so much, Sayu!” he beamed, prodding the skin and finding no trace of the wound. “You know, I would be happy to learn some of these ninjutsu if you could-”

Without waiting for him to finish, the girl curled into a ball and, using a gust of wind to propel her, rolled out of the room. You stared at Thoma, baffled.

“What was that?”

“Don’t mind Sayu,” he said with a chuckle. “She dislikes anything that requires her to work. Still, she is a very accomplished ninja.”

“She… works for the Kamisatos?” Thoma nodded. You could not help the scowl that overtook your face. “She’s a kid.”

“Sayu is very talented. She was raised by her sensei and trained under them for many years.”

“Many years. Right,” you muttered, unconvinced. Thoma frowned at your tone, but then seemed to realize something and started chuckling.

“Sayu is thirteen years old.”

You blinked. “What?”

“She is thirteen years old. For some reason, though, she never grew as tall as her peers, so she looks much younger.”

That girl was older than the twins, then. That explained much from her reaction. As a ninja and a Vision-holder, she had probably been called to aid the Kamisatos in other assignments involving fights before.

A more important detail caught your attention: Thoma had just confirmed that the Kamisatos had ninjas under their service. Your mind recalled the feeling that someone had been following you right before you moved to the Kamisato Estate. It must have been one of them. Baptiste would appreciate that information.

“They didn’t do anything to you, did they?” Thoma asked suddenly.

“I- what?”

“The nobushi.”

“No, nothing. They only started getting more aggressive after you arrived.”

When they saw someone who looked like a foreigner. They had not realized they were already speaking to one.

You remembered how calm Thoma had remained during the entire exchange. Then the way Kazumasa and Furusawa had been talking about him earlier that day. There was no way he had not heard them.

“Do you always have to deal with people talking to you like that?” the words left your mouth before you knew it. Thoma cocked his head.

“Like what?”

“Like you’re less than them because you’re a foreigner.”

To your surprise, a small smile spread across his lips. “It has gotten a lot better. It took a while for me to fit in and make connections. Still, I guess there will always be people who just see me as an outsider and judge me based on that…” He shrugged. “I don’t mind, as long as the people I care about see me for who I am.”

That reasoning was so… simplistic. Like if he could just choose not to care about how people treated him, it would not affect him. Then again, perhaps it wouldn’t. He was the chief retainer of the Kamisato Clan. There were plenty of people trying to get on his good graces because of that fact alone. If he were not connected to the Kamisatos, he would have a much harder time being accepted. One simply had to look at the merchants stranded in Ritou to know that.

“Did you have to deal with that in Fontaine?” Thoma asked, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“Sometimes.”

Sometimes people would compliment your Fontainian and how you spoke it without an accent. Sometimes they would presume you knew certain things about Inazuma and be upset when you did not. Sometimes you were tested on your knowledge of Fontainian history and culture.

“It was annoying.”

“I can imagine,” Thoma nodded sympathetically. “Does that have anything to do with how you learned to fight?”

You froze. For a moment, you had forgotten about that unwelcome revelation at the beach. Thankfully, Thoma had already provided an easy way out for you.

“In a way. I got into a fair share of fights as a kid. And later on, well, I didn’t live in the safest neighborhood in the Court of Fontaine, so I had to learn a thing or two.”

Never mind that the most dangerous beings in that neighborhood were yourself and your co-workers.

“Why didn’t you mention it before?”

You snorted. “What, you mean in the recommendation letters? I applied for a housekeeping job, Thoma, and I intend to continue doing just that. Knowing how to throw a punch didn’t seem like a relevant qualification.”

He chuckled in response, conceding to your point. Then, he added, “Would you mind if I told milord and milady about this? It’s important that they know their retainers’ full skillset.”

You frowned in annoyance. He was making it sound like you had a choice, when both of you knew it was not the case.

“It is your duty to tell them anyway, so why are you asking me?”

“Because I would still prefer if you were comfortable about it.”

You almost rolled your eyes, but then saw that Thoma’s face was serious. You sighed. Apart from being pointless, saying that you did not want them to know would only raise more questions. So you nodded.

“Go ahead, I don’t mind.”

He shot you a grin. “Great! I promise you will still have plenty of time to tend to the garden.”

“You talk as if that is all I do.”

“Don’t try to lie, you enjoy it!”

Before you could retort, you caught something moving from the corner of your eye. In a flash, you were up on your feet and stepping back, eyes glued on the Shiba Inu that had entered the room and was now making his way towards you.

“Taroumarou! Hey-”

The dog stopped in front on Thoma, sniffing and licking his waist, where the wound had been. The retainer laughed and patted the dog’s head.

“Thanks, buddy. I’m alright, don’t worry.”

Taroumarou nuzzled into his hand and let out a small bark. By then, you were at the opposite side of the room, back pressed against the wall. The dog turned his stare to you. Thoma quickly put a hand in front of him.

“No, Taroumarou, Hitomi doesn’t-”

Taroumarou turned to Thoma and let out a series of high-pitched barks that caused you to wince. Thoma waited for the dog to finish and then sent you a nervous glance.

“Hitomi, stand still for a moment. He just wants to sniff you.”

“No.”

“He’s very insistent on this. I promise he won’t do anything. I will be right beside him the whole time.”

The words of reassurance flew right over your head. You were too busy trying to phase through the wall to hear them. That was a ninja dog, Kozue had told you previously. If he wanted to attack you, you doubted Thoma could stop him on time.

Almost as if to prove your point, Taroumarou disentangled himself from Thoma’s hands and rushed towards you. The housekeeper yelled and tried to catch him, but the dog slipped away easily. You wanted to scream, but the sound was stuck in your throat. You could only watch as Taroumarou ran and came to a halt at your feet.

The dog brought his nose close to your knees, sniffing and making small humming sounds. You held your hands up, close to your face, intent on protecting your vital points. Taroumarou did not seem bothered by your shakiness, continuing to sniff you as though looking for a treat.

An eternity seemed to pass before Taroumarou finally stopped and sat down in front of you, tongue lolling out of his mouth. You continued to stare at him, unmoving.

“Hitomi,” Thoma called softly. “Look, his tail.”

It was swinging from side to side.

“That means he’s happy!”

“Good for him,” you hissed, clearly unhappy.

Taroumarou then got up and nuzzled his head into your knees. You almost kicked him out of reflex. You caught yourself in time and turned to Thoma with despair in your eyes. He understood the message and quickly ran to take Taroumarou away. When he tried to touch Taroumarou, though, the dog growled.

“I think… he wants you to pet him.”

“No. Way.”

“Just… Put your hand out like this. Just for a moment.” Thoma reached out for your hand and you were too overwhelmed to swat him away. He looked into your eyes. “Trust me. I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”

You held Thoma’s gaze, feeling your heartbeat slowly steady itself. Your mind regained some semblance of clarity and recognized the ridiculousness of the situation. You had your daggers. You were bigger. Even if the dog attacked, you should be able to get it away from you. And Thoma was there. With your history so far, that was not so reassuring, but…

Images of the trip to Ritou flashed in your mind.

“Alright,” you croaked.

Thoma wrapped his fingers around your wrist and gently guided your hand down to Taroumarou’s eye-level. The dog sniffed it again, tail still wagging. Thoma then turned your fingers downwards, touching the fur on his head.

“Good boy, Taroumarou! Very good!” Thoma said, causing the dog’s tail to move even faster.

It was almost cute. The dog. Almost.

That was when you felt something slick running across your fingers. It took every ounce of your self-control not to yank your hand away from Taroumarou’s tongue. The dog stopped licking and looked at you expectantly. You grimaced.

“Gross.”

Taroumarou whined, ears flattening against his head.

“Aw, don’t say that! It’s okay, boy. Kozue will get you some treats, alright?”

The mention of treats was enough to get the dog’s tail wagging again. He barked happily and made its way towards the door, sending one last look at you before exiting. If you did not know better, you would swear he was making fun of you.

“Hey. Are you okay?”

You snapped your eyes back to Thoma.

“Yeah. Still alive, I guess.”

“I’m sorry for how this turned out,” he said, tone indeed remorseful. “But thank you for giving it a shot. Really. And, well, for all the help back at the beach.”

You averted your gaze and shrugged, feeling strangely self-conscious. Nothing about that day had gone as planned. You had no idea how the events would affect Thoma’s level of trust in you and, by extension, your progress on your mission. But you could not help a tinge of hopefulness from spreading. You had, after all, faced a dog and come out unscathed. That had to count for something.

Looking down, you saw that Thoma was still holding your hand, wet with dog slobber. You pulled your hand back and cleared your throat.

“So, did we get enough crabs?”

“Uh- yes. The crabs, yes,” he stammered, taking a step back as well. “We should get them back to the estate now.”

You nodded. As soon as Thoma put his shirt back on, you wiped your beslobbered hand on his back.

“Hey!”

“You can take any complaints to the owner of the teahouse.”

A couple of days later, Thoma approached you in the garden.

“Hitomi, can you go to the city and get milord’s new suit at Ogura Mio’s?”

You put down the hand shovel you had been using to spread manure around the camellias.

“Sure. Are we leaving now?”

“You can go whenever you are ready. I have to finish organizing milord’s new book collection in the library.”

Your eyes widened. You stared at Thoma, mentally reviewing his words to make sure you had understood correctly.

“You are letting me go to the city… unchaperoned?”

He flashed you a sly grin. “Aw, I didn’t know you would miss my company so much! Maybe I can leave sorting out the books for later-”

“I’m leaving, bye!”

Without waiting for another reaction, you darted off to the main gate.

That was a good sign. An excellent sign. You would have that job done in no time now.

Chapter Text

Your body stiffened when you heard the creaking sound of the door opening. Your hands flew to you eyes, wiping away the tears. You heard the footsteps approaching and the mattress beside you sinking with a new weight. A hand moved the blanket away from your head.

“What’s wrong, ma puce? Had a bad dream?”

Baptiste was smiling at you. That was supposed to feel comforting. You wanted to feel comforted. But all you could do was shiver.

“I want to go home,” you choked, embarrassed at how quickly your eyes were swelling up again with tears.

Baptiste frowned, looking confused. “But we are home now.”

You had arrived in the Court of Fontaine a couple of days before, after a two-week long boat trip from Inazuma and a week and a half following a caravan from Liyue. But now that you were there, it was not as you had expected.

“I want to go to Petrichor.”

Baptiste hummed thoughtfully. “That was where you lived with your dads, right?” You nodded. “And do you still have family there?”

He knew you did not. He knew youe entire story and was well aware that your only living relative remained in Inazuma.

You shook your head.

“Then what would you do in Petrichor?”

“My… my house is there.”

Your dads had sold the house before you moved to Inazuma. You remembered a young couple coming to visit and closing the deal with Papa. Still, it was your house. If they knew what had happened, surely they would understand.

“And who would take care of you if you went back? Neighbors? Chérie, you can’t really expect that. Not after your own aunt cast you away.”

You shrunk at the memory.

“I can take care of myself.”

Baptiste guffawed. “Really? Like you did in Ritou? No, pupuce, I didn’t mean to make you cry…”

Your jaw tensed as the man reached out his hand and wiped some of the tears that had begun to run down your cheek. Baptiste sighed.

“I’m just worried about you. You’re too young. You can’t cook by yourself, hunt, take care of yourself if you get sick… But I’m here for you. I can help you with all that. And help you develop your skills even more. You are so talented. It would be a shame if it all went to waste, right?”

You nodded slowly, the smallest hint of pride burning in your chest. From the first time you had met, Baptiste had complimented the way you managed to listen in on conversations without being seen and remember everything you had heard. These were exceptionally useful skills to have, he had said. You did not remember Papa and Oton ever praising you for that. It felt good.

“I know you miss your dads and, frankly, I don’t blame you. But we all gotta move on eventually, okay? Little by little.”

He was right, you knew. He had to be right. Otherwise, you might as well have stayed in Inazuma.

“Okay.”

“Good girl.” He ruffled your hair and, though you disliked the mess he made, you craved the touch. “You’ll be calling this place home in no time. You’ll see.”

Despite your initial burst of euphoria at being allowed free transit around Narukami Island without Thoma’s presence, you knew better than to abandon caution, especially now that you had confirmed there were ninjas serving under the Kamisatos. In fact, this new development could very well be a trap to get you to lower your guard. It is what you would do in Thoma’s position.

So you took things slow.

That first day, you went straight to Ogura Mio and back, not even stopping by the shrine to see if there were any sachets for you. The next few times you were sent to the city, you ensured your behavior was perfectly innocent. You would stop at Naganohara Fireworks for quick chats with Yoimiya, sometimes taking a batch of Dancing Delights to the shop owner. You would leave offerings at the shrine once in a while – all meaningless sachets with ribbons of a different color each time. Sometimes Thoma would tag along and, though his demeanor around you had relaxed, you could confirm that he remained as attentive as ever.

It took nearly another month before you deemed it safe to leave a message to Sylvian. His reply was almost immediate.

And so it was that you found yourself at Uyuu Restaurant at noon on a Thursday. That was the busiest day for the restaurant, when Tenryou officials had the habit of extending their lunch hours as much as possible. It was not surprising that Sylvain had managed to get wind of that practice as well, but you still scowled at the thought.

Your expression morphed as soon as you walked through the door, an unassuming smile of calculated politeness taking over. Some officials had already arrived, sitting by the counter and talking loudly while Okazaki Erika ran around the kitchen preparing their orders. You found an empty seat and ordered a Tri-Flavored Skewer.

As soon as the order arrived, you inquired casually, “Are there any rooms available upstairs? There are more people coming in and I would prefer eating at a quieter place.”

“Yes, there should be one,” Erika replied after thinking for a moment. “From what I remember, two rooms are taken, but you can have the last one if it’s unoccupied. I can take your order there-”

“Please, don’t bother. You have your hands full already, this is nothing,” you assured her, earning a thankful smile from the cook.

You picked up your plate and climbed up the stairs, making a beeline for the room where Sylvain had already said he would be waiting for you. You found him sitting at the table with a cup of sake in one hand and the other supporting his chin. His entire posture denoted boredom, but his golden eyes flashed when you entered.

“You sure took your time, [Y/N],” he greeted in Fontainian.

“Weren’t you the one always saying that meticulous work can’t be rushed?” you retorted, taking a seat across the table from him.

“Oh, so you’ve got something to show for yourself?”

“The fact that the Tenryou Commission hasn’t executed me for treason yet is one.” You took an aggressive bite out of the skewer. “We have to be more careful than ever. The Kamisatos have a group of ninjas at their beck and call. One of them has an Anemo Vision with healing capabilities, but I have not met the others yet. I do not know how many there are.”

Sylvain nodded, attention fully focused on your words. “I don’t suppose any of them might have followed you to our rendezvous?”

“No, because I’m not stupid,” you spat, seething when Sylvain shrugged with the air of someone who might disagree. “I noticed some of them were keeping tabs on me before I moved to the Kamisato Estate, but not since then. I’m successfully building up trust with them.”

“Yeah, I can see your blond puppy isn’t following you anymore. Thought he might have drowned or something.”

You ignored that remark. “Despite the initial setbacks, I have been getting more freedom to move around the Kamisato Estate. I expect that an opportunity to search for documents tying them to Watatsumi will arise soon enough. I need you to bring me a kamera in case I am not able to extract the original documents. Also, I need you to get information on one merchant in Liyue by the name of Maki.”

“Oh? Are they involved in whatever business the Kamisatos have in Watatsumi?”

“I’m not sure yet,” you admitted. “It is one of the few transactions from them that I’ve been able to witness, and it called my attention.”

Sylvain clicked his tongue. “Fine, I’ll get Bo working on this. He’s in the Harbor right now.”

You frowned. Something in the way he had phrased it made you uneasy.

“Why are the twins in Liyue Harbor?”

“Not the twins, just Bo.” Sylvain stretched his arms back, lips spreading into a smirk as he watched your expression darken. “Come on now, [Y/N]. They needed to cut the cord eventually.”

“They’re too young and inexperienced for that.”

“We were younger than them when we started.”

“We were different.” We had nothing to lose, was what you left unsaid. Whether Sylvain understood what you meant, he paid it no mind.

“I really think you’re underestimating them. Besides, Bo is not entirely alone. Karina is there with him.”

“You know that does not make it less concerning.”

“Afraid that she is going to pull a Snezhnaya there?”

At the mention of that job, you clenched your fists under the table. The stiffening of your posture elicited a chuckle from the man.

“Don’t worry, they are there for some easy reconnaissance. It was my idea, you know? About time we expanded our presence to Liyue Harbor.”

“The Croque-Mitaine always said there were good reasons why we didn’t act there.”

The Liyue Qixing had the most efficient and well-funded information network in all of Teyvat. Sometimes Baptiste and Elke would orchestrate jobs close to the borders with Fontaine and Sumeru, where the Qixing’s presence was weaker. But pulling a job in the capital had too low a chance of success and too high a risk.

“And I convinced him we have enough resources to handle it.” Sylvain shrugged nonchalantly.

You sighed. You could not fathom what Sylvain could have said to convince Baptiste but you were in no position to revert that at that moment. As satisfying as it was to see Sylvian set himself up for failure, you just hoped it would not come at the expense of Boniface’s safety.

“By the way,” the man fiddled with the chain of the pocket watch where his Vision was engraved, “next time you go to Ritou, do send me a heads up. I would hate to miss another confrontation between you and a puppy.”

Of course he had heard about that.

“Go drown in a river.” Sylvain threw his head back and laughed.

“Oh, [Y/N], you’re hysterical. Thank you for making this job less dull than I thought it would be. Still, I need to take my leave. I will get back to you with news on this ‘Maki’.”

You did not bother to acknowledge his exit, focusing instead on your skewer and all the ways you could have used the stick to perforate Sylvain’s neck. You truly had been passing on a number of excellent murder opportunities as of late.

You finished your food quickly. You still had to buy camellia seeds before returning to the estate. Furuta had been excited about the growth of the flowers and wanted your help in preparing a new bed for more of them. You did not intend to delay your stay in the city but, just as you passed by one of the other rooms before climbing down the stairs, you heard a familiar voice from behind the screen.

“Hehehe, this is brilliant, Ushi. He won’t know what hit him, we’ll finally have our reven- what? No, don’t give me that look! Of course it’s going to work!”

You quirked an eyebrow, wondering what in the world Itto was doing at a place like Uyuu Restaurant. You doubted he had the mora to afford their services. Perhaps he was meeting with Ayato? You still hadn’t worked out the details of the strange friendship between the oni and the Yashiro Commissioner.

After the exchange with Sylvain, you had little patience left to deal with someone like Itto. Nevertheless, your first encounters had been surprisingly productive. Maybe you could extract something useful from him with a quick chat. It had been almost a month since you had last seen Ayato in person and Itto could have some news on that.

You knocked on the wood next to the door. Itto immediately halted his chuckles.

“Oh shit, it’s him! Look calm, Ushi.” Then, in a louder voice, he called, “Erm, come in!”

You slid the door open and stepped into the room.

“Hi, Itto, it’s me-”

The first thing that caught your attention was the piece of rope that slid upwards from Itto’s hand as soon as the door opened. Then a soft sliding noise coming from above. Even in your dexterity, the only thing you managed was to avoid being hit head on. You could not escape the splash of water the flew up when the bucket hit the floor.

“ITTO, WHAT THE FU-”

“Angry Cucumber? What are you doing here? This was- GAH, you’ve just ruined my prank!”

“I’m going to ruin so much more than that,” you growled, dashing across the room towards Itto and gripping him by the collar of his coat, a feat only made possible due to the fact that the oni remained seated. Squishing sounds from your soaked shoes accompanied you as you moved, making your murderous walk less intimidating than intended.

“Wait, no! You gotta help me out here! We have to get more water and get the bucket back in place, he could arrive any minute!”

His words were followed by a series of frantic moos. Your eyes trailed down to a small creature resembling a bull with brown fur, golden horns and a blue and red roof tied to his back. Whatever that being was, his sounds seemed to upset Itto.

“What? Shouldn’t she be the one apologizing to me? We worked hard to come up with this idea, Ushi! Besides, don’t think I forgot how she missed Shinobu’s graduation par-”

A soft knock on wood echoed around the room.

“Hello, partner! I hope I’m not interrupting?”

Turning to the door, you saw a short man with dark wine-red hair standing there. He wore bracers that extended from his forearms to the back of his hands and a jitte hung from his waist. In his lips played a smile that was a tad bit too stretched to be genuine.

“Heizou! My bro!” Itto exclaimed, nervously waving to the man as though you were not ready to strangle him. “Of course not! We were just waiting for you!”

The man’s eyes scanned the soaked floor and the bucket. An amused glint flashed in them as he put a hand on his hip.

“Am I correct to assume that this was supposed to fall on me as I entered?”

“What? Pfff, where did you get that idea from? No, what happened was… My homie Hitomi here was bringing Ushi some water and- and she tripped! Yes, that’s it!”

You shot the oni a warning glare.

“I see…” the man, Heizou, mused scratching his chin. If the smirk hiding in the corner of his lips was anything to go by, he had not believed a single word from Itto. His stare then turned to you. “I’m sorry that we had to meet under such troublesome circumstances, Hitomi. I am Detective Shikanoin Heizou, pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“Likewise, Detective,” you said, finally releasing Itto’s collar and bowing your head in what you hoped would be understood as a sign of respect. In fact, you just wished to hide your surprise. You had come across the name Shikanoin a few times, though most of your sources back in Fontaine had referred to him as the “Cyclone”. Top detective of the Tenryou Commission, holder of an Anemo Vision. A character you had hoped not to cross during your stay in Inazuma.

“Well, bro, since you’ve arrived, I guess it’s time we ordered something, right?” Itto suggested, regaining his composure.

“I’m afraid I’ll have to take a raincheck this time, bro.” You did not miss the teasing lilt Heizou put on the last word. “Some new leads have just appeared in a case I have been investigating and I need to go deal with that.”

Itto’s face was a battlefield between disappointment and relief. While he decided which one would win, you asked as nonchalantly as possible, “Anything we should worry about, Detective?”

Heizou lifted a finger to his chin, pondering the question. “I don’t suppose so… Unless you would happen to know a man by the name of Yanami Daisuke?”

The name was entirely unfamiliar. You shook your head.

“Who’s this guy?” Itto inquired, crossing his arms and tilting his head.

Heizou let out a sigh that conveyed exaggerated levels of disappointment. “I didn’t think so… He used to be a miner in Tatarasuna. About a year ago, he moved to Narukami and became a nobushi.”

“Ooooh I see! He’s been causing trouble then? Worry not, my little friend, and leave it to this oni. I am well used to dealing with wayward youngsters and channeling their energy towards greater pursuits. All the members of the Arataki Gang have turned into perfectly rad and upstanding citizens under this guy’s leadership.”

“That… won’t be necessary. I am investigating his murder.”

Itto deflated like a popped balloon.

“Wait, what?”

“I imagine these kinds of things happen relatively often, no? With all the fighting between nobushi,” you suggested.

“You are not wrong, but there is something different about this one.” Heizou spoke slowly and you could practically see gears turning in his brain. “His body was not found in any of the places where nobushi usually dispose of their victims. Actually, it was half buried under some rocks at the beach near Chinju Forest.”

You blinked. That description sounded slightly familiar.

“Wow, that’s weird,” Itto exclaimed, crossing his arms. “Maybe there was a rockslide or something?”

“No, it was clear that the rocks had been put there. From the state of the body, he had been there for a few months already.”

So around the time when you had arrived in Inazuma. Still, it could not be.

“Moreover, the cause of death was a slash to his neck. And it was not made by a sword.”

You fought to keep your expression one of casual curiosity and ignore the weight of the daggers in your pockets.

You had been in such a bad mood that day. And now this. An investigation into the murder you had committed in the spur of the moment and all because a certain housekeeper had decided to be a thorn on your side. If anything, Thoma should be the one to blame for the nobushi’s fate.

“Can you really tell all of that? That’s amazing,” you whispered innocently. Heizou chuckled.

“Some things become easier to spot when you’ve worked on this field for so long. Others… let’s just say my intuition has been a great partner.”

You nodded, thinking of an excuse to slip out of the room when you noticed Heizou’s stare upon you had acquired a new intensity. Before you had a chance to rationalize what it could be, he spoke, “I must ask, are you a new member of the Arataki Gang, Hitomi?”

Beside you, Itto choked.

“What? Come on, bro, you know we’re an exclusive club! No offense, Angry Cucumber, but you really gotta prove yourself before receiving a formal invitation to join us. Not anyone can shoulder a responsibility like that!”

“I am a housekeeper for the Kamisato Clan,” you answered flatly, ignoring Itto’s remarks.

“Oh? Is this a recent development? I didn’t think they would ever have anyone in that position besides Thoma.”

“There is a lot of work to be done, the estate needs a larger staff.”

Heizou’s eyes sparkled and, for a moment, you were certain he would comment on how you had dodged his question. Nevertheless, the detective merely nodded and turned to Itto.

“Sadly, I must take my leave now if I want to make it to Chinju Forest and back before nightfall. Let’s reschedule our lunch for some other day, Itto. Hitomi, it was a pleasure meeting you.”

With a casual wave, Heizou turned to the door and left. You paid close attention to the sound of his heels getting farther and farther away, knowing you would only be able to breathe properly again once he was out of the building.

No, not really. You would never be able to breathe properly again unless you fixed that mess. Because Baptiste would kill you. And this time he might just be angry enough not to do it in the figurative sense.

How were you supposed to know that nobushi had specific patterns for getting rid of dead bodies? That hadn’t come up in the months of research preceding your trip. You should have considered that before killing one of them. Then again, you had not been thinking very rationally that day.

You stiffened. What else had you miscalculated about that encounter? Had you left any traces of your presence at Chinju Forest? You were sure you had packed up everything and no one had seen you. But if Heizou said he had found a new lead and was headed to the forest…

You could not risk it. You had to get there before him.

“… without a word! You could have at least sent a gift by mail! And then the next time I see you, you ruin my precious chance at getting back at Heizou? Seriously, it’s like we’re not even friends anymore!”

You blinked, whisked back to reality in the middle of what seemed to be a quite emotional lecture from Itto. You eyes narrowed as you caught the last few words.

“Since when are we friends?”

“Since we fought and bled together on the battlefield, dummy.” He crossed his arms impatiently. “And friends help each other. So now that you’ve ruined my prank, you have to help me think of another one!”

“As much as I would love to see you getting arrested, I am afraid I am too busy with my actual job to do that.”

“Huh? Why would I get arrested? Has that crooked tengu outlawed harmless fun now? That sounds just like her!”

You let out an exasperated sigh. “Do you seriously think that you can prank a Tenryou Commission officer and come out unharmed?”

“Oooh, I see what you mean. Worry not, my homie. Heizou would not get mad over something like that. Besides, he owes me big time.” At the sight of your eyebrow quirked in disbelief, he continued. “You see, I helped him with this play a while back. I don’t mean to brag, but I have quite the talent for acting. I have what they call a strong stage presence, you know? Anyway, Heizou was supposed to get me this super amazing onikabuto in exchange, but the little devil only got me a figurine of a super amazing onikabuto! Ever since that day, I’ve been plotting to get back at him. But he always finds out and tricks me back!”

“Uh-huh.”

“First, I tried putting extra strong Juyeun Chilis in his ramen when he wasn’t looking. But then he started complaining that he was allergic to the shrimp they had put in his dish. I got so worried that he might have a reaction that I said that we should switch our orders. Only then did I realize that I was the one eating the extra spicy ramen!”

You opened your mouth, but Itto carried on.

“Then I put some glue on the door to his office one day. But he came back from lunch with a lot of paperwork and couldn’t open the door by himself. I thought I would be a nice guy and get the door for him but I completely forgot about the glue! It took Shinobu three hours to get me out of there and I had to pay a new door to the Tenryou Commission!”

You grimaced, imagining the fury in Shinobu’s eyes. At the same time, you half wished you had been there to see the scene.

“And today, just when I had the perfect plan, you walked into my prank instead of him! So you now you gotta help me!”

You sighed again, more impatient. You had to follow Heizou quickly. “Itto, we’ll have to do this some other time. I’m really, really busy right now and I can’t have my employers mad at me.”

“Blergh. You’re lame. Skipping an opportunity of an onimaginably amazing prank.” Itto huffed, picking up Ushi under his arm. “Guess it’s just you and me, buddy. Off to Chinju Forest we go.”

“Wait, what?” you stammered, eyes widening. “You’re going to Chinju Forest right now?”

Itto rolled his eyes. “Didn’t you hear Heizou? That’s where he’s going. And if there is one thing I know about Chinju Forest is this: it is the perfect place for scary pranks. We can’t miss this opportunity!”

And then you realized you might have once again underestimated Itto’s usefulness to your plans.

You left Uyuu Restaurant through the second-floor window because Itto did not want to risk having to explain to Erika about the wet floor. Even if he still blamed you, he knew Erika – and, by extension, Shinobu – would find a way to blame him and make him pay. That was the first speck of rationality you had ever seen in him.

Itto did not question your sudden change of mind about accompanying him, instead only nodding and remarking that he knew you were cooler than you looked. That had earned him an elbow to his ribs. You were sure the little bull he carried – “My best pal and a mighty exorcist!”, as the oni had introduced – had snickered at that.

The way the situation was developing was concerning, but not entirely negative. You knew better than to try to convince Itto not to dart off to Chinju Forest right then, as that would have either made him suspicious or wasted too much of your time. So you decided that whatever little prank he was planning could be a good distraction while you scouted around and made sure there would be no clues of your transgressions for Heizou to find. If Heizou saw you and asked what you were doing there, you could just say you had been roped into Itto’s shenanigans.

And if Heizou did decide to arrest you both for disturbing a public officer… that would be bad, but less so than facing trial for murder.

“So this is what we are going to do.” Itto bounced as he spoke, unable to contain his excitement. “Ushi and I are going to hide behind the old tanuki statue. You go to Heizou screaming that you saw some bandit around there. And when he gets close… I chuck Ushi at his face and scream!”

“You… will throw Ushi?” you repeated slowly, sending a concerned glance over to the bull. He let out a quiet moo, seemingly unfazed by the proposal. “Don’t you think Heizou is going to wonder what I am doing there in the first place? And that he will be on high alert if I try to lure him by saying there is a criminal nearby?”

Itto hummed, considering your points. “You are not wrong. Alright, new plan. What if Ushi goes running to attract Heizou’s attention, and you are waiting underwater in that little lake-”

“I will not get even more soaked than I already have today.”

“Come on, Hitomi, you gotta commit to our goal! But yeah, maybe you wouldn’t be able to hold your breath for long enough anyway. Oh! How about this. We will sprinkle some Juyeun Chili sauce around – I grabbed a few sachets from the restaurant just in case. It’s going to look like blood. Ushi goes to Heizou pretending to be in panic and guides him to where I will be. I will put some sauce on my clothes too, so he will think I have been attacked. And when he’s there going ‘Oh no! Who could have done this to the mighty Arataki Itto? Are you alright, my friend?’, you jump from the bushes as if you were the attacker and scare him! How does that sound?”

It was perfect. Heizou would never fall for something as silly as that, but it would give you time away from Itto to walk around the forest on your own. If you weren’t there for the grand finale, you could just say you had missed your cue.

“Alright, let’s do that.”

“Heck yeah! Ushi, you gotta ace that performance. Let me see your scared face.”

The bull stared a Itto for a moment, then let out a rather emotionless moo. Itto grinned.

“Superb, my friend. You truly are a star.”

You passed by the first trees into Chinju Forest. Immediately, the sky turned dark, even though it was the middle of the afternoon. You did not go too far beyond the torii gate before Itto started sprinkling the Juyeun Chili sauce around.

“This is it. The perfect place. See that bush? I’ll be lying just behind it. And that big tree? Hitomi, you jump from there, got it? It’s got enough leaves to keep you hidden until he arrives.”

So no one would see if you weren’t there either. Excellent.

“Ushi, go find Heizou. Give us a minute or two to ready ourselves and bring him here. Got it?”

Ushi let out what seemed to be an affirmative moo. You nodded.

“Alright, we got this! Team Prankitto… Go!”

You and Ushi exchanged a glance, still in place.

“Prankitto, really?”

Itto crossed his arms over his chest, suddenly bashful. “Well, yeah! It’s got ‘prank’, it’s got my name…”

“This is really not your strongest pun.”

“Okay, okay, we can workshop the name later. But now, go!”

This time, you went to your positions. Ushi trailed down the main path of the forest looking for the detective. You went around behind the tree… and silently started following Ushi from a distance, using as much cover from other trees and bushes as you could.

You had to see where Heizou was and if he had found anything already. Then, you had to remember the exact place where you had camped that first night in Narukami and make sure that nothing had been left behind.

A couple of minutes went by until you spotted the detective’s characteristic wine-red hair. Heizou was kneeling down, checking a spot on the grass that seemed to be disturbed. You frowned. That could not have been you; it had been months, such faint traces like that would have already disappeared.

You observed quietly from behind a large rock, smirking when you saw Ushi had also seen Heizou and was rushing towards him. The man frowned and rose to his feet. Ushi started fidgeting on his little paws, letting out loud, pained moos. If anything, it sounded like he was the one who was dying.

“What is wrong, Ushi? Did something happen to Itto?” you heard Heizou ask, though there was no urgency in his tone.

Ushi continued his overly dramatic moos, at one point tumbling to the side and unable to get up due to the weight of the roof tied to his back. Heizou helped the bull back to his paws and Ushi started to run back the way he had come, looking back and mooing to ensure Heizou followed. The man quirked an eyebrow but did go after Ushi in a light jog.

As soon as they were sufficiently far away, you hopped out of your hiding spot and checked what Heizou had been investigating. Indeed, there were some fresh tracks – stomped grass, quite a bit of mud. It looked like some large animal had passed by, much larger than a boar. You could not tell what it was, but it was enough to know it had not been you. You repressed a sigh of relief. You were not out of trouble just yet.

You scanned around, trying to remember exactly what you had done that day. You had hidden your belongings inside a tree trunk. If you could find one with a hole large enough, that should be it.

It did not take you long; Heizou had been frighteningly close to the spot. You did not recognize the hole perfectly, but there was something else that made you sure that was the place. A series of angry slash marks against that tree and a few others nearby. You gritted your teeth when you remembered the tantrum you had thrown after getting back from the Kamisato Estate. The way Thoma had smiled so innocently and apologized for the inconvenience almost made you want to throw another one.

Looking more closely around, you saw a series of snapped branches on the ground, mostly covered by fallen leaves. Right. You had done that too.

The mess was too contained to have been from a fight. Still, Heizou could try to find a way to connect the slashes on the tree trunks to the one that had killed the nobushi. You could not risk it. The problem then was how you were going to mask that without making it too obvious that someone had tampered with the trees recently.

You paced around, considering your options. You did not have any bigger weapons that could be used at that moment. You considered starting a fire around the tree, but that could spread to the entire forest and adding environmental crimes to your list of misdeeds did not seem wise. You could just make newer slashes, but how would that even help?

With a frustrated groan, you picked up a pebble on the ground and threw it away as far as you could. New slashings seemed to be the only reasonable option. Maybe you could carve a few drawings, make it seem like it had been kids playing.

You took out one of your daggers and positioned yourself in front of the tree trunk. You started the first cut when the rustling of leaves and the sound of heavy footsteps reached your ears. It was coming from the direction where you had thrown the pebble. You had probably disturbed an animal.

As you craned your neck to get a better look down the slope, your heart came to a halt in your ribcage. Of all the unexpected things that had happened to you that day, meeting the eyes of a Thunderhelm Lawachurl had certainly been the worst. Now you knew what had left those tracks.

As soon as it spotted you, the creature let out a guttural growl and threw its fists up, a layer of Electro energy suddenly surging around its body. You barely had time to start moving when the Lawachurl charged.

Thankfully, despite their speed, Lawachurls were known for not being able to change direction easily once they started dashing. That was the only reason why you was able to jump out of the way and avoid a collision. Seeing that its prey had dodged, the Lawachurl raised its fists and slammed them onto the ground, causing a shower of Electro sparks to burst forth. You rolled out of the way, bumping against a tree, but still felt some of those sparks prickling against your skin. You were sure to feel those burns later, after the adrenaline had died down.

The Lawachurl stared down at you and made its way over more slowly. You jumped to your feet and took out your other dagger, raising them in a defensive stance. The Lawachurl swung a punch towards you, which you ducked without much difficulty. You heard the tree cracking and falling sideways from the blow.

Well. At least that might deter Heizou’s investigation against you. Or your untimely death at the hands of the Lawachurl would. You hoped for the former.

You rushed forward and slashed at the Lawachurl’s knees, hissing when you saw no damage being done due to its coat of Electro. The monster tried to grab you, but you jumped back in time once again. Seeing that the path at your back was the same Ushi and Heizou had taken, you turned around and sprinted down. If you were able to find Itto, he should be able to create a shield and allow all of you to escape. If not, your chances of survival should at least be higher around two Vision-holders.

Seeing you run, the Lawachurl growled and darted towards you again. This time, you did not have enough room to dodge, taking the hit on your left side. You were knocked back against a bush, struggling to breathe as the elemental energy shocked your abdomen. The Lawachurl was already walking up to you. You forced yourself up, dropping one of the daggers in the process.

“HELP!” you yelled, more in frustration than panic.

Taking that as a challenge, the Lawachurl aimed another punch at you, which you were only able to avoid by jumping to the side and falling on your stomach. You had not made it far enough, though, and there was not enough time to get up. You gritted your teeth and raised your arms in front of you, preparing for the impact of the creature’s next blow.

Instead, what you felt was a gust of wind.

“Cyclone!”

A swirl of Anemo hit the Lawachurl’s side, sending it stumbling backwards. A more familiar and obnoxious voice then came through.

“Haha! BAM!”

Itto jumped and hit the Lawachurl straight on its mask with his claymore. A shower of purple crystals erupted from the attack and, without thinking twice, you grabbed one of them, your heart racing as you saw the purple shield forming around you.

“Hitomi, are you okay?” Heizou asked, positioning himself beside you but not taking his eyes from the opponent.

“I’ll live,” you groaned, getting to your feet. Ushi then arrived at the scene, stopping in front of you and glaring at the Lawachurl as if he could do anything against the monster five times his size.

“Heh, don’t you worry, bro! Your man Itto here can deal with these little buggers in his sleep!” the oni declared with another swing to the Lawachurl. The impact was enough to disperse the coat of Electro around it, rendering it more vulnerable to attacks.

Heizou rushed forward and started applying a series of kicks and punches against the creature. Looking more closely, you saw that all of his blows were coated with Anemo, mixing physical with elemental damage. You had never seen anyone fight like that.

“Hey, bro! Don’t you steal all the fun!” Itto complained, making sure to get another hit in before Heizou finished the Lawachurl.

It did not take long until the Lawachurl fell to its knees, letting out one last grumble as its consciousness faded. You breathed heavily, skin prickling more intensely by the second. It had been so easy for them. So easy for those chosen by Celestia.

“Hey, Hitomi, what happened? I was starting to get worried when you didn’t show up! Lucky you that Ushi caught your scent. Ain’t that right, compadre?”

Ushi let out an affirmative moo.

“Sorry, Itto,” you managed to say, steadying your tone. “I went to make sure that Ushi had gotten to Heizou alright and ended up running into that Lawachurl. Thanks for the help. Both of you.”

“Hehe, no need for all that formality!” Itto waived a hand dismissively. “It all worked out in the end. You know, Heizou here actually got scared when he saw the fake blood! And the way you screamed only added to the atmosphere! So guess what? Mission accomplished!”

“Yes, I was quite distraught,” the detective agreed, though the mockery was evident in his tone and smirk. Perhaps he had finally gotten tired of watching Itto embarrass himself while trying to prank him. You silently thanked Heizou for that. You did not think you could handle being roped into another misadventure with the oni.

“Well, that’s great, I guess,” you said slowly. “No hard feelings, detective?”

“Not at all. I admire Itto’s free spirit and determination. I must say, though, I did not expect you to get involved with this.”

“You must know that Itto can be very persistent to get his way.”

Heizou chuckled, his smirk turning into a small smile. “You are correct.”

“Hehe, what’s up with all the flattery? I mean, not that I am not used to this, but, come on, a leader has to have some humility, right? So yeah. Let’s get back so I can tell the gang about this oniquely productive day. What did you think of my moves, Ushi?”

You were barely suppressing a smile yourself as you watched Itto pick Ushi up, blabbering about how he had taken down the Thunderhelm Lawachurl practically single-handedly. Your day had been productive as well. Though nothing had gone quite as planned, the fight with the Lawachurl should be enough to prevent Heizou from finding any evidence against you in Chinju Forest.

You turned around to bid farewell to the detective, deciding to go straight to the Kamisato Estate from there. You then saw Heizou was bent down, picking something up from the ground. You stomach lurched when the metal of your dagger glistened at you.

“This is an interesting design,” he mused, twirling the knife around his fingers. “Unlike any other I’ve seen in Inazuma.”

You merely stared at him, refusing to acknowledge the remark.

“Oh, you didn’t know? Hitomi-homie moved here from Fontaine! I bet you got it from there!”

Any feeling of gratefulness you had ever felt towards Itto vanished in an instant. You swallowed, mouth dry.

“Yep. It’s from Fontaine.”

“Man alive, that is quite a trip. Has it been long since you arrived?”

“A month or so, I think. I haven’t really counted.” Despite how easily you uttered the lie, you could swear Heizou’s eyes narrowed at you. But then, as quickly as it had come, it was gone. His overly broad friendly smile returned to place and he offered the dagger back to you.

“It is beautiful. Careful not to misplace it, okay?”

You nodded with a semblance of calmness that contrasted with how fast your heart was beating.

Finally, the effects of the encounter with the Lawachurl started taking its toll on you. Your arms and face were red as if exposed to the sun for too long, itching madly. But the worst feeling was the pit in your stomach from your conversation with Heizou. While you knew he had no material evidence on you, something in the detective’s manner left you with a sense of foreboding. The way he spoke was far too cheery, it did not match the sharpness of his gaze. That was a man used to solving riddles with little beyond his wit, and there was nothing more dangerous than that for someone in your position.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps entering the kitchen.

“Hi, Hitomi! Good to see you’re ba- wait, what happened?”

You supposed you were quite a sight to Thoma. Slumped over the kitchen table with a weary expression, fighting not to scratch the angry red marks across your body.

“Itto roped me into doing something stupid. Ran into a Thunderhelm Lawachurl. Survived. Hooray.”

“A Thunder- wait- wait here.”

You groaned as Thoma’s rushed out of the room. The last thing you needed that day was getting in trouble with the chief retainer. He would surely want to know why you had been involved with the likes of Itto and you really did not feel like explaining yourself. Yet, it was better to tell him than to have him hearing it from rumors – or worse, from the oni himself – in the city.

You had more or less worked out what you were going to say when Thoma came back with a small pot and a roll of bandages. He sat beside you, removing the pot’s lid.

“This ointment is great for Electro burns. I would know, got quite a few of them myself.”

You mouthed a ‘thank you’, dipped your fingers into the ointment, and started to spread it on your arms. The relief was immediate, the coolness of the balm taking away the itch. You applied it to your face as well, feeling your heart rate finally begin to drop ever since you had left Chinju Forest.

“Were you hurt anywhere else? Are you alright?” Thoma inquired, preparing to roll out the bandages. You shook your head.

“Just a bit sore. Itto dealt with the Lawachurl before it could do more damage.”

The housekeeper breathed a sigh of relief and smiled at you. “Be careful, though. These monsters can be very troublesome.”

“No need to tell me twice.”

The two of you chuckled. Him, probably imagining the scene of you desperately fleeing the Lawachurl; you, almost giddy with the relief that ointment had granted you.

“Oh, you missed a spot.”

Thoma put some ointment on his finger and tapped your cheek just below your right eye. His touch was light and gentle, like he was used to taking care of others when they were injured. Despite that, you froze. Thoma did not seem to notice.

“There, all ready. Why don’t you go lie down for a bit? I’ll get dinner started.”

You nodded, wordlessly getting up and exiting the kitchen. For some reason, you could feel your heart rate picking up again.

He did not ask further questions about what had transpired that day.

Chapter Text

You did not know what greeted you first: the cold winter wind, or Sylvain’s annoyed huff.

“Finally!” he exclaimed in a hushed tone, throwing his arms up in annoyance. “It’s almost four. Didn’t your shift end at two?”

“My bad. If I knew you were waiting for me, I would have taken longer,” you teased, sticking your tongue out at Sylvain and dodging a flick to your forehead.

The two of you stepped away from the tavern’s backdoor and into the shadows of the City of Mondstadt’s alleyways. You knew better than to trust the late hour and discuss business in the open.

Four blocks later, sheltered from view thanks to a porch on the second floor of a nearby building and piled up crates, you stopped. Sylvain leaned against the wall, flicking the petals of a Philanemo Mushroom growing along some vines. He pulled an envelope out of his pocket, which you hastily snatched. You had been waiting the entire week for instructions from the Croque-Mitaine on what other selection of premium dandelion wine the client had asked you to pilfer. From what you had been told, Dawn Winery had refused the client’s proposal to distribute that wine in Fontaine and the client was convinced they could replicate the formula with some samples. You did not bother to learn further details.

“So, what happened? Did the pirate guy give you any trouble?” Sylvain asked, crossing his arms. You put the envelope away and shrugged.

“Not really. Actually, ever since the Knights announced they’re going to make him Cavalry Captain, he’s been drinking more and more.”

Sylvain scoffed. “You would think one would be happy to get a promotion. Anyway. What was it then?”

You repressed a sigh. He was not going to let that go until you answered.

“Charles was tired, so I stayed behind to do the inventory and close up.”

“That lazy bum asked you to do his job?”

You did not answer, instead focusing on twirling a lock of hair from your wig around your finger. That shade of purple looked surprisingly good on you. Maybe you should consider dying your hair later.

“[Y/N],” Sylvain insisted, eyes narrowing. “You volunteered, didn’t you?”

Your reply flowed as soon as his last word came out; after all, you had already expected the question.

“That’s called playing the part-”

“Foçalors’ fucking ass, [Y/N].”

“-which you would know if you ever went undercover for longer than two weeks.”

“I do, I just don’t start believing in my own disguise,” he let out an annoyed sigh. “Seriously, the things you waste time with.”

“If you have any complaints as to how I do my work, take it up with the Croque-Mitaine.”

Sylvain fumed at you, but did not reply. A satisfied smirk crept onto your face when you noticed his nails digging into his forearm. As long as Baptiste trusted your methods, Sylvain could yap all he wanted. Nothing would change. You were safe.

He was still glaring at you when he said, “As long as you remember who you work for at the end of the day.”

In everything she did, Kamisato Ayaka wore the mask of a perfectly poised and refined young lady. That was no surprise. You could imagine the strict upbringing the woman must have had, carefully being pruned of all exacerbated displays of emotion and molded into the thoroughly amicable persona of the Shirasagi Himegimi. What was surprising was for how long she was able to maintain that façade and make it seem effortless. Even so, you had been observing people for long enough to know that every mask had its cracks. One just had to look for the details.

The way she folded her hands on her lap with a bit too much force, as if to prevent herself from fidgeting. The way her eyes hovered over you without stopping for too long on any of you. The way her voice came out slightly higher than usual when she spoke.

“Thoma, Hitomi, thank you for coming. Please, take a seat.”

Ayaka was excited about something. You quickly sat down, eager to know what that was about yourself.

While Ayaka had not yet disclosed the reason for her summons, you were certain that Thoma already knew. He was, after all, having a much harder time than his employer in keeping the goofy grin off his face. Thankfully, Ayaka did not beat around the bush.

“I have received the necessary confirmations and can finally announce it: in six weeks’ time, the Yashiro Commission will be hosting the Biwa Music Festival, with the participation of performers from our nation and three others.”

“They all answered?” Thoma gasped, brimming with excitement. “Congratulations, milady! This is excellent news!”

“Indeed, congratulations, milady,” youechoed. You could not help but feel a smug sense of satisfaction knowing that you had been right in your suspicions about what kind of event the Yashiro Commission was planning. If only you could confirm your suspicions about the Commission’s other activities…

Ayaka lowered her gaze bashfully. “This is much thanks to your efforts in sending the invitations, Thoma. And yours too, Hitomi.” You perked up at the mention of your alias, finding that Ayaka’s eyes were now looking directly into yours. “That list of musicians you gave me was essential to assist me in selecting which ones from Fontaine to invite, and also to consider how to balance the musicians’ different styles.”

You bowed your head, a seemingly polite gesture whose main objective was to ensure that the warmth spreading across your chest would not somehow be visible on your face. The Shirasagi Himegimi had this odd habit of singling out each retainer’s contributions and thanking them. A good tactic, ensuring that the servants felt appreciated and loyal to the Clan. While those efforts were utterly wasted on you, you would not deny that it felt nice to have such praise.

“It was my pleasure, milady. I’m glad it was useful.”

“This is the full list of performers and their arrival dates. Please, take a look.”

Ayaka slid the list across the table towards you and Thoma. Two musicians per country, a total of eight. The festival would span across four days, with two concerts per day. In addition to Inazuma and Fontaine, Liyue and Mondstadt were represented.

Your eyes quickly darted towards the two names from Fontaine, recognizing Gigi Gassion, a bard well known in Fontaine for her chanson style, and the more alternative group A Pirate’s Heart. Not your favorites, but still prominent figures in the Fontainian musical arena. Sensible choices.

You scanned the other countries in the list, unfamiliar with the names placed under Inazuma and Mondstadt. You were preparing to set down the list when a familiar couple of characters caught your eye. You blinked, vision blurring and refocusing. The words left your mouth without your realizing.

“Xinyan is coming?”

Ayaka blinked in surprise. “Yes, she is. We have a mutual friend who recommended her. She was kind enough to accept, despite having had issues with Inazuma’s travel permit system before. Are you familiar with her work, Hitomi?”

In any other environment, the question would have been met with a scoff. Anyone who mildly appreciated rock’n’roll knew about Xinyan. And you, you knew all the lyrics of Xinyan’s songs by heart. You had saved up for months to buy some of the preciously few radiant spincrystals of Xinyan’s songs available in Fontaine. You had even begged Baptiste to let youoff an assignment to see Xinyan’s first, and to date only, concert in the Court of Fontaine – he had not allowed it, but you had been able to catch some of the music from afar. “Familiar” was an understatement.

But since it was Ayaka who asked, you merely nodded, trying to suppress a gulp. “She is extremely talented.”

“I am glad that we reached out to her then,” Ayaka replied, the smile on her lips widening.

For the first time since you arrived, you hoped your business in Inazuma would not miraculously be concluded before the festival. Your poor heart would not be able to take missing Xinyan’s concert twice.

“Thoma, have you checked that venue in Ritou that we discussed?”

It felt as though someone – probably Itto, considering his record – had dumped a bucket of ice-cold water on you. As much as you knew that you could not avoid Ritou forever, you also doubted you would be capable of fully enjoying the festival in that city. You would be always glancing around, looking for people who were not there or afraid of finding one who was.

“I did, milady,” Thoma said. “It is big enough to accommodate the public, but I fear it is too close to the buildings… the music might disturb the residents and Yoimiya would have to really tone down on the fireworks. If I may suggest, I think Amakane Island’s venue might be more enjoyable for both artists and public.”

Your head snapped towards Thoma, transmuting your surprise into a frown. He did not acknowledge you, green eyes focused on Ayaka. Said woman paused, considering the suggestion, before finally nodding.

“Since we’ve already had the Iridori Festival in Ritou not too long ago, it also makes sense that the public would enjoy a different setting. Alright. Could you check if Amakane Island is available and what we would need to arrange?”

“On it!” he exclaimed, flashing a bright grin.

Instead of the wave of relief that would be expected to accompany such a surprisingly positive turn of events, all you felt was a sour taste in your mouth. Thoma’s reply had come too quickly. He was clearly avoiding your gaze. There had to be something behind his proposition to move the festival to Amakane Island.

“Hitomi, could you go to Inazuma City and talk to Yoimiya about the fireworks we’ll need for the festival?” requested Ayaka, snapping you out of your thoughts. “I have the detailed order here. We also need to commission someone to draw the posters and leaflets.”

“Absolutely, milady. Anything else?”

Another gentle smile formed on Ayaka’s lips, the kind that made the good people of Inazuma sigh in admiration and pray for her good health. “For now, that will be all. I will get started on the documents we need to submit to the Kanjou Commission for the travel permits. Thank you very much, both of you.”

Thoma gave a quick bow of his head and got up, with you following suit behind him. You made your way to the courtyard, each mentally reviewing your tasks.

“Are you heading out right now?” he asked you, receiving a nod in reply. “Mind if I join you?”

You repressed a sigh at how protocolar the question was. Amakane Island was on the way to Inazuma City, it made no sense for each of you to leave separately. “Would you delay your exit if I said yes?”

Thoma frowned and held out his arm to check an inexistent wristwatch. “For about thirty seconds.”

“Archons, no, the Clan would never recover from such tardiness. Please, accompany me right now.”

Thoma chuckled and performed an exaggerated bow, gesturing for you to walk ahead. Once you passed through the main gate of the estate, he took his usual position beside you.

While the heavy sunlight of midday would have usually made the walk to the city quite tiresome, the constant chilly breeze blowing worked like a balm on your skin, renewing your energy. Thoma hummed to himself, softly enough that you might not have noticed had you not been paying attention. He was evidently satisfied with the new assignment. As were you, except for that annoying question nagging at the back of your head.

 “What is the venue on Amakane Island like?”

“You’ve never been there before?”

“I’ve just seen it from afar.”

He moved a hand in the air. “It’s very spacious, excellent for open-air events like this. The Yashiro Commission actually uses it quite often, since it is a good place to launch fireworks and gather people in a single space.”

You nodded, considering his words. “There is a space near the docks in Ritou that could be good for that too. Have you ever done anything there?”

“Well, yes, but-” Thoma suddenly caught himself and paused. You raised an eyebrow at him. “I think Amakane Island would be more enjoyable for everyone.”

You did not need to ask more to understand what he meant, and you did not like it. Fighting against the instinct to clench your fists, you replied in a light tone, “Ritou would have been fine too. Anyway. Whatever works.”

He blinked and avoided your eyes, clearly choosing his next words with caution. “That day we went to Ritou, that was not your first time there, was it?”

Your jaw clenched. It had been a while since Thoma had last tried to directly pry information out of you. Not that you had expected his suspicions to be entirely cleared, but being confronted with them once again reminded you of how messy that job was proving to be.

You forced your irritation down and quickly went for an easy story that would fit in with Hitomi’s background and, for once, was not a lie.

“I lived there for a while when I was a kid. Before going to Fontaine. I don’t remember much, but I got bitten by a dog there. Still got the scar.”

That did not explain your reaction in the alleyway, but you were ready to insist on the spoiled food theory if Thoma pressed you. To your relief, he focused on the last pieces of information you had offered.

“That must have been terrifying! Some dogs are tricky to get close to…”

You waved a hand dismissively. “Well, that was a long time ago. As long as they don’t bother me, it’s fine.” Now that was a lie that Thoma caught without much effort. He graciously let it slide.

“I used to be around cats and dogs a lot when I was a kid, so I learned how to handle them well. Got quite a few bites and scratches over the years, but those were my fault only.” He raised the sleeve of his jacket, showing an almost imperceptible rosy scar that ran down his right arm towards his elbow. “That was when I was trying to get Uri’s measurements for a sweater.”

You frowned. “Who’s Uri?”

As if a switch had been flipped, Thoma’s face instantly lit up. “He’s a stray cat that lives in Inazuma City. He’s usually around Kiminami Restaurant, meowing for food. A while back, Yoimiya and I tried to find someone who could take him in, but he didn’t let many people get close to him. In the end, we didn’t find anyone, but I still try to make sure he doesn’t get too cold in the winter.”

“By… knitting sweaters? For a cat?”

“Yep!” He grinned brightly.

Somehow, that fit perfectly with what you had come to know of Thoma. Your mind flashed back to all those times you had caught him in the kitchen with a needle and thread, fixing up some clothes for the Kamisato siblings or even someone else from the staff. Before you could help it, a fit of laughter escaped from you.

“Only you, Thoma, I swear.”

“What? Cats get cold too!” Despite the defensive words, he was laughing as well.

“How do you even get him to wear the sweater?”

“Oh, these are the scars on my other arm.”

“You know, some people would come up with more heroic stories for their scars. A duel with kairagi. Fighting Mitachurls.”

“Nothing of the sort for me. All my scars come from kittens and puppies.”

Another memory jumped to the forefront of your mind. After a pause, you ventured, “What about the one you got on the ship coming to Inazuma?”

Thoma’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Oh, that one.” He scratched the back of his neck, buying a few precious seconds to search for words. “That wasn’t anything heroic either. You see, the ship I took from Mondstadt to Inazuma was caught in a heavy storm along the way. It ended up capsizing. As I went overboard, something hit me. Maybe some splintered wood, I don’t know. That was the deepest wound I had when I woke up ashore.”

You stopped walking and, for a moment, simply stared at Thoma. His lips were still tugged, but you would not call that a smile. If anything, it got sadder the longer you stared.

“What happened to the crew?”

“Some survived. We even kept in touch for a while. But some… didn’t make it.”

It wasn’t such an uncommon story. The trip to Inazuma had never been an easy one, even before the Electro Archon had decided to isolate the country.

Against your will, images of a blond kid trying desperately to hold onto anything as the dark waters grew closer and closer invaded your mind.

“I’m sorry. That’s awful.” Predictable words. Useless. Yet, you did not know what else to say.

Thoma shook his head. “It was tough. But it got me where I am today.”

“Don’t start with that.” He blinked, startled at the harshness of your tone. You yourself were surprised. But now that the words had flown out, you could only breathe in and try to control your voice. “That doesn’t make it any better.”

The housekeeper held your gaze in silence and, with every passing second, you wondered if you had gone too far. At last, Thoma breathed out a sigh.

“You’re right. It doesn’t. Still, I got lucky.” Thoma’s left hand shifted slightly, feeling something in his pocket. Had you not been paying such close attention on him, you might have missed it.

It suddenly dawned upon you that you were on a promising trail. That near-death experience must still weigh on him somehow – how could it not? If you could find out the extent of it, maybe you could gain some advantage over Thoma. And thus you ignored the bitterness spreading within you r mouth and asked, “Was it too hard to get back on a ship after that?”

“To be honest, I haven’t travelled much far ever since. To Yashiori and back, at most. After the first hour or so, I got used to it.”

You frowned, confused. “You mean you haven’t been back to Mondstadt ever since you arrived?”

The shift in Thoma’s countenance was immediate. Any traces of a smile vanished, leaving his lips slack and just barely parted. A candle snuffed out by an unexpected gust of wind. That was how you knew you had hit a spot.

And, with that awareness, you also knew not to push you r luck.

“I- I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry,” you stammered, expertly bringing an edge of panic to your voice.

“No, no, you didn’t-” He cleared his throat, recomposing himself. “You’re right, I haven’t been to Mondstadt ever since I left. I really miss it sometimes.”

His lips tugged upwards again, a gesture as empty as Foçalors’ list of official pardons granted. You chewed the inside of your cheek, feigning awkwardness.

“Erm, so, do you know any of the bards milady chose for the Biwa Music Festival?”

Thoma’s words flowed more easily after that, clearly relieved by the change of topic. The forced casualness of the conversation, steering well away from any sensitive issues, gave your mind the space it needed to process the information you had acquired.

It was clear that something more than mere nostalgia had been leading Thoma to struggle with his absence from his homeland. You could learn exactly what it was in due time. For now, you already had enough to start moving. Plant the seed of an idea within Ayaka’s mind to force Thoma to take a break and visit Mondstadt. Get him out of the picture. You might even be doing him a favor.

The look on his face had been… uncanny, to say the least. Unlike any other expression you had seen Thoma wear. Becoming acquainted with it had brought you no pleasure.

Relief flooded you when you finally parted, Thoma taking a right turn towards Amakane Island, and you continuing straight ahead into Inazuma City. You went first to the person you knew would give your mind no time to focus on anything but the present.

“Hi, Hitomi! You arrived at a great time. My dad has been helping me mix amethyst lumps with this powder we got from Natlan and it’s going to make the fireworks really stand out. I want to know what you think!”

You rested an arm on the counter and leaned in, dropping your voice to a conspiratorial whisper.

“Business first, Naganohara. I’ve got hot news from the Yashiro Commission that you will be interested in hearing.”

The sparkle in Yoimiya’s eyes could rival her own fireworks’. “What? What? Stop giving me all that suspense!”

Your lips tugged upwards into a smirk. You did love a captivated audience. “Biwa Music Festival. Eight bards, four nations. Amakane Island. And you, of course, have been commissioned to arrange the pyrotechnics.”

You slipped Ayaka’s order over the counter. Yoimiya all but snatched the paper as soon as you let go of it, grinning madly as she read over the content.

“So that’s what Thoma was all secretive about!”

“Milady decided to make the announcement today, and you’re the first one to know.”

“Really? Is Ayaka around?” Yoimiya’s head snapped from left to right, looking in vain for any signs of the Shirasagi Himegimi.

“She stayed at the estate to finish up on some work.”

You repressed a chuckle at how quickly Yoimiya deflated. “Oh, bummers. It’s been a long time since she came by, I was hoping to catch up. Um… Maybe I’ll make her a special firework for the festival…”

“I’m sure she’d love that.”

“Oh, and don’t think I’ve forgotten about you! You’ll get a special firework too for this privileged information! Do you want a Taroumarou one like Thoma?”

You most certainly did not. “Instead of a special firework for me, there’s something even better you could do.”

“Oh?”

“There is this musician from Liyue coming, Xinyan. She plays rock’n’roll and, believe me, it’s the kind of music that really deserves some blasts of fire. So if you can make her fireworks the most special ones, it will be a gift for humanity.”

Yoimiya did not take even a second to consider before clapping enthusiastically. “On it! Since she’s from Liyue, maybe I could take advantage of some Liyuean minerals. Once I experimented with noctilucous jade and the results were pretty great. Contrary to what you’d expect, nocticulous jade makes this bright orange flame that-”

“That sounds great,” you interrupted before Yoimiya could start a full-blown lecture on the topic. “Maybe she is even already familiar with your work, from some of the festivals in Liyue.”

The shop owner tilted her head confusedly. “You mean, familiar with fireworks in general?”

“With Naganohara fireworks, specifically. Since you also sell them in Liyue.”

“Uh… No, we’ve never sold our fireworks abroad. Where did you get that from?”

A frown took over your brow. That day in Ritou, you were certain that Thoma had mentioned they were exporting Naganohara fireworks to a merchant in Liyue. You even recalled his mentioning something about their being used in festivals there. It was true that Yoimiya’s ledgers were a mess, as you knew well, but to misremember such important commercial transactions was too much negligence. Disorganized as she might be, Yoimiya always remembered her clients.

The obvious explanation would have been that government officials were swindling a merchant out of their profits. But if that were the case, they would have done it through someone from the minor clans affiliated with the Yashiro Commission. They would never be so careless as to directly involve someone as close to the Commissioner as Thoma. And as much as you would not put something like that past them, you had to admit that that kind of corruption was not the Kamisatos’ style. In the end, that only added to your hunch that there was something more to the transaction with Liyue’s Maki.

Your face betrayed none of those thoughts. Instead, you only blinked and offered a sheepish smile.

“My mistake. I really thought someone had mentioned that Inazuma sold fireworks to Liyue. Anyway, even better. It will be a complete surprise to Xinyan and I am sure she will be in awe.”

“I’ll ensure that she will be!” Yoimiya pumped a fist into the air, the fire in her eyes burning as brightly as her Vision. “Now speaking of those experiments with amethyst lumps I was telling you about…”

“Sorry, Yoimiya, I still have a few errands to run today. Catch up with you later?”

“Ugh, fine… But don’t get too busy and forget to come just to hang out!”

You nodded and quickly left, leaving Yoimiya mumbling excitedly to herself about what kind of explosions she could come up with for the festival.

Finding an artist to design the posters was next on the list. Thankfully, Ayaka’s notes already contained the recommendation of a few who had worked with the Yashiro Commission previously. You had worked around Thoma for long enough to know that they always tried to shoot their prices up whenever an official request from the Commission was involved. And to know how to work around that.

“I’m not supposed to tell be telling anyone this, but the Commission has been buying in bulk lately. You know what that means, right?”

The young artist’s eyebrows shot up. Her voice trembled. “You don’t mean…”

“I sure do. There will be a lot more work just around the corner.” You had no idea if that was true, of course. But it was a reasonable assumption in light of the Commission’s notorious recent increase in purchases.

You sighed and let your shoulders sag ever so slightly. You might not have Thoma’s natural charm but you knew how to sell a story. “We will be spending so much with the promotion of other festivals that, if we spend too much on advertising this one, there will be nothing for the next one. We were even thinking of sticking with the same designer for the rest of the year, if the prices are good.”

“The rest of the-” the artist gulped, and you could see her pupils threatening to morph into Mora signs. At last she clenched her jaw and nodded resolutely. “I can give you an eight percent discount from the initial price.”

“Make it ten and I will be sure to start throwing your name around the Shirasagi Himegimi.”

She hesitated for half a second. “Deal.”

With that out of the way, youcould take some time to walk around the city and listen in on the news on the streets. There were rumors that the Raiden Shogun would soon announce the new Clan that would be heading the Tenryou Commission after the Kujou Clan’s fall from grace, but you had learned not to trust that kind of gossip; the topic would come up at least once a month ever since you had arrived.

Besides that, nothing seemed much noteworthy. The ore taxes from the Tenryou Commission were still at an all-time high, the embargo against Watatsumi continued, and the Kanjou Commission was having trouble containing the waves of immigrants docking at Ritou, eager to explore the secrets of the formerly isolated Land of Eternity. It seemed that new people arrived every week. You could not understand the appeal.

You were about to call it a day when a tinge of purple caught your eye. It shouldn’t have, really – purple was probably the most common hue around Narukami. But that one was a different shade. Darker, more alive.

“Good afternoon, there! Interested in our Sumeru Roses?” the florist, middle-aged with brown hair tied into a side-bun and a bright smile, greeted you. You had never seen them before, which meant that they had to be new in the business.

You leaned closer to the potted flower and carefully brushed its petals with the tip of your finger. They grew everywhere in Sumeru but you had never seen them in another country. Not even Natlan, whose jungles were not entirely unlike Sumeru’s.

“How did you get a Sumeru Rose to thrive here?”

“It takes a bit of work, but it is not that difficult.” They stepped from behind the counter, stopping besideyouto better show you the plant. “Usually the soil here in Inazuma is way too acidic for them, so I use this solution with lime to make it better. Eggshells also help. Oh, and water – Sumeru Roses love water, you have to water them at least three times a week. But if you do that, they grow in no time. And they take very well to being potted! Perfect for a little decoration at home!”

You nodded, finally tearing your eyes from the flower. “It is beautiful, congratulations. I assume it was quite a challenge to import it?”

“Well, not gonna lie, those forms were a nightmare to get through. Had to prove the Sumeru Roses would not be a threat to local flora and such… But hey, it’s all done and fully legal. You can ask the Kanjou Commission.”

“No need, I believe you.”

“Then don’t just stand there admiring the flower, get one for yourself!”

They continued to shoot you that impossibly wide smile that salespersons thought would soften customers but, more often than not, only drove them away. You shrugged. “I don’t think I have enough room.”

“Didn’t I just say they grow well in pots? Come on.” The florist picked up a small sachet which you assumed contained Sumeru Rose seeds. “Just put them in a place with a lot of direct sunlight. 750 Mora and I will throw in some of my special fertilizer. What do you say?”

It was a waste of Mora, of course. A superfluous thing that would bring you no gain.

“700.”

“Uhm… Alright, only because you caught me in a good mood. Here.”

You handed them the Mora and, while they counted each piece, put the sachet with the seeds inside your pocket. When the florist was satisfied that the amount given was correct, they turned back to you.

“If you have any questions or trouble getting them to sprout, just come back and ask Omi here!” They patted their chest so as not to leave any doubt that they were Omi. “And come back to check out some new flowers too! I’m having some Windwheel Asters arrive in a couple of weeks from Mondstadt.”

After a quick bow of thanks, you headed off, absent-mindedly patting the sachet in your pocket while you trod down Hanamizaka’s main street.

The wind had changed, gathering thick gray clouds above the city. Just as well. With the errands done, there was no reason for you to delay your return to the estate.

Except, of course, a familiar blond standing by Yae Publishing House.

“Never pegged you for a fan of light novels.”

While you had not really made an effort to move silently, it still irked you that Thoma had not seemed surprised by your arrival. He chuckled at you.

“I’m not. I’m actually picking up a book I ordered on supernatural phenomena in Tsurumi Island.” He held up a book with a dark blue cover with what seemed to be yellow eyes peering from the shadows.

“That’s…” You frowned. “Very niche.”

“Haha, I guess you could say that. There are just so many mysteries around that place, like the eternal fog, and no one knows what causes it or what kind of creatures lurk in there! Some say it’s ghosts, some say that it’s just bake-danuki playing tricks, or other youkai… There are so many fascinating stories!”

His eyes sparkled at each word, as bright as the grassy hills around Petrichor’s waterfalls. The way they looked just after sunrise, when the blades of grass were still glistening with dew. You had gone back there a few years ago, to see if it was as you remembered from when Oton had taken you. It wasn’t, of course. But it was still beautiful.

To think you had snuffed out that light just earlier that day.

Thoma’s gaze suddenly shifted to the ground and his hand rose to scratch the back of his neck. That was what it took to make you realize you had been staring.

“I guess mine is a peculiar choice of hobby… Anyway. Things on Amakane Island are settled, so if you are done around here, shall we get going?”

Without bothering with a reply beyond a nod, you continued to path towards the city’s exit. Thoma followed you close behind. But before you could leave, a sound of soft, hurried steps along the cobblestones reached you.

“Wait! Mr. Thoma!”

Though you supposed you should have gotten around to the different youkai roaming Inazuma, especially after so many encounters with Itto, the sight still surprised you. The woman had two brownish tails, white paws for feet, and green slitted eyes. A nekomata. A Dendro Vision hung from her hip.

The woman was breathless by the time she reached you, but still managed to flash a grin as she announced, “Delivery for Mr. Thoma, Chief Retainer of the Kamisato Clan!” As if to emphasize her statement, she held out a small beige box, only a bit wider than the book Thoma had just bought. The only noteworthy detail on the package was the stamp on top of it, beside the recipient’s information, with the emblem of the Knights of Favonius.

While that was enough to call your attention, especially with the recently acquired information that Thoma had not been to Mondstadt in over a decade, it was Thoma’s reaction that triggered your full alertness. When he reached out for the package, his fingers were trembling. You looked up at him to see that his mouth was compressed into a thin line, eyes widened and focused on the stamp.

The courier seemed to have a suspicion as to the source of his nervousness. “No need to worry about the delivery fees! The sender already covered them.”

“Oh, right,” the housekeeper blinked, straightening his posture. “Thank you, Kirara.”

A hauntingly feline grin spread across her lips. “It was nothing! Komaniya Express thanks you for your patronage and wishes you a great day!”

With a quick salute, the woman turned and dashed off, visibly seeking to move under the cover of roofs to avoid the drizzle that had just started falling. Thoma had turned his stare back to the package. While his grip was firm, you could see his breathing was accelerated. That gave you the perfect excuse to ask.

“Hey. Everything okay?”

Thoma started, as if he had forgotten you were there. “Yeah, sorry.” He shot you one of the most cheerless smiles you had ever seen. “We should get back to the estate before the rain gets worse.”

“Are you sure? What’s with the package, is it something urgent?”

You hoped your attempts at prying would be overlooked as legitimate concern. But alas, Thoma was not one to overshare, not about things that mattered.

“Don’t worry, just something I’ll look up into when we get to the estate. Really, no need to fret. Shall we?”

You wanted to press more, but that would be suspicious. Perhaps, if you softened him enough during the walk back, you could be present in the room when he opened the box. Unlikely, but you did not have many options.

The rain got heavier by the minute and, even sheltered under Thoma’s umbrella – because of course the marvelous Chief Retainer of the Kamisato Clan had left with an umbrella, despite how nice the weather had looked in the morning –, your shoes and clothes got irremediably soaked. Purplish jagged streaks started to tear the sky, and you wondered if something had truly upset the God of Lightning.

Rain in Fontaine almost never rose to the level of storms. They were light, but constant. A veil of gloom, some bards would say, but you had always found it relaxing. It was the kind of weather that did not pose much danger to fishing boats.

You blinked hard when your foot sunk into a puddle of mud, the cold suddenly enveloping you up to your ankle. Nope, not at all like Fontaine.

“We can’t get much farther like this,” Thoma shouted above the wind, which insistently tried to turn the umbrella inside out. “Let’s ask for shelter in Konda Village.”

Thankfully, the village was but a few minutes away, and you knew exactly who to turn to at a time like that.

Saimon Katsumi opened the door and rushed you in before you could even exchange greetings. You and Thoma quickly rid yourselves of their soggy shoes, trying rather unsuccessfully to avoid dirtying the floor too much. As soon as Katsumi closed the door, banging with the force of the wind, Eri appeared and handed you two towels.

“Thank you very much for the help, that’s really kind of you,” Thoma said with a deep bow, which you were quick to mimic.

“You’re the best, oba-san, thank you so much.”

“We couldn’t just let you out in this storm, could we?” Katsumi said, walking to stand beside his wife.

“But really, Hitomi, I should be scolding you,” Eri remarked, waving a finger at you. You raised your eyebrows, confused. Eri sighed. “So many months and not a word from you! Honestly, you’re almost as bad as Jirou! Tell us then. Are the Kamisatos treating you well? Have you been eating enough? Is Thoma here giving you trouble?”

You blinked, surprised by the wave of questions. You had not considered that the Saimons expected you to report to them after you had moved out. After all, you had been merely renting a room in their house, a commercial transaction. Nevertheless, you were not in that country to make enemies, at least not overtly.

“Apologies for that, Mrs. Saimon. Things have been so hectic, but still, I should have taken some time to visit. The work has been great, the Kamisatos are wonderful employers.”

“And Hitomi has been a great addition to the team, truly,” Thoma suddenly pipped up, surprising you. He had finished drying himself and was glancing at the Saimons with a light smile on his face. “She is very hardworking.”

Hearing those words from the person who constantly got in your way and made you have to work twice as hard would have been funny had anyone else been aware of the context. But as it was, no one laughed, and Katsumi simply nodded. “That, we know already. Always helping us out with the chores around the house and never complaining. If only Jirou had half of that diligence…”

“Shush now, Katsumi. You’re always too harsh on him, that’s not encouraging. Oh, but Hitomi, I should update you about Hitori Mitsue! You remember her, right? The one who inherited a fortune in Sumeru?”

You nodded slowly, feeling your smile stiffen. You would be lying if you said you had given Mitsue any thought after securing your place with the Kamisatos. You had not even looked into whether the girl’s ship had made it safely to Sumeru. Mitsue had been simply an obstacle, after all; once she had been removed from the equation, there was no sense in keeping tabs on her anymore. It did not mean that you were not anxious about her fate.

“You are not going to believe it, but apparently that letter about the inheritance was fake. She never found any Mr. Hazid!”

“Oh, no.” You wanted to slap yourself for how evidently unastonished your words sounded. Even so, Eri did not seem to notice it.

“She eventually found her uncle in Port Ormos, but neither he nor her family here had sufficient Mora to send her back to Inazuma. So she stayed there working with her uncle.”

“That’s such a shame…”

“No, it was the best thing that ever happened to her!”

You blinked. “What?”

“Turns out that that girl has a fantastic mind for business. In the little time she’s been there’s she’s managed to double her uncle’s profits. And from the letter Kenshin received last week, it seems that she has started courting an Amora-”

“Amurta.”

“Don’t interrupt me, Katsumi. An Amora scholar from the Akademiya. They research plants and somehow she has incorporated that into the business. Mitsue said she has no plans to leave Sumeru for now, but she will try to bring them here to meet her family next year.”

“And you were saying that her trip was a bad omen…”

“The letter was a bad omen! I never said that Sumeru was a bad omen!”

Every word that came out of Eri’s mouth sounded like one of her tales to the village children. Except that, while she usually stuck to ghost stories, that one was clearly a fairy tale. Fairy tales had never had a place in your life. And yet, apparently, you had made one happen.

A breath that you had not realized you had been holding escaped your lips and you suddenly became acutely aware of how fast your heart had been beating.

You did not care about what happened to Mitsue. But it surely was a relief to know you had not ruined yet another person’s life.

Thoma more than made up for your lack of an enthusiastic response, exclaiming congratulations for Mitsue and interacting with the Saimons’ remarks. Eventually, Eri excused herself to make some tea, giving Thoma a slap on his forearm when he offered to do it in her stead. Katsumi led both of you to the dining table, bringing you up to date with everything you had missed in Konda Village (apparently Futaba had adopted a lizard and was practicing ventriloquism with it) while always finding a way to insert complaints about his son in the midst of every topic (“Jirou would never have the patience it takes to learn ventriloquism.”). Eri soon joined you, bringing a cup of white tea to each of you.

Upon realizing that the rain was not going to let up any time soon, you let yourself be immersed in the conversation, asking for details and trying to find a middle ground whenever the Saimons started arguing. You realized you had never paid so much attention to the musings of the old couple before, head always focused on infiltrating the Kamisato Clan and completing the job. They were nice. Kind in that relaxed way that most seemed to find only in old age.

Katsumi was telling you about when Jirou was ten and wanted to become a magician, and you were already laughing at the old man’s exaggerated descriptions, when your eyes landed on Thoma. He was still smiling, the same way he had been when you had entered the house. He nodded at the right times, chuckled at the right times, replied when spoken to. But there was something mechanical about it.

One of his hands kept reaching for his jacket’s inner pocket, where he had hidden the package from the Knights of Favonius from the rain, as if to check it was still there. And every time he did, instead of relieved, he seemed sullener. Whatever he was expecting to find in that package, it was not good news.

You repressed a scoff. If he was so worried about that, why didn’t he just go to a corner and open it? It was almost like he was fidgeting on purpose, because he knew it would annoy you.

Thoma caught your staring and shot you a quizzical look. You raised your eyebrows and quickly mouthed “you okay?”, a gesture that Katsumi, too enthralled in his own story, did not notice. Thoma quickly nodded and his lips stretched further.

It was painful to watch. His eyes were dull, completely different from the light you had seen in them that morning when you left the Kamisato Estate. Or when you were at Yae Publishing House. And it had been such an interesting shade of green too.

This time, you could not help an annoyed sigh. If you had known Thoma would have been more irritating sad than cheerful, you would have drowned that nekomata into a river that very morning. You glanced out the window, only to be met with the view of another strike of lightning tearing across the sky.

If nature was not on your side and Thoma was too helpless to be of use, you would have to take matters into your own hands.

“Mrs. Saimon,” you started, catching Eri’s attention, “Thoma was telling me earlier about this book with supernatural stories in Inazuma, but I bet it doesn’t compare to yours.”

The blond retainer blinked, visibly confused at the sudden change of topic. In contrast, Katsumi relaxed back on his chair and let his wife take the lead.

Eri chuckled. “I suppose I do know a few stories that are not in any books… Besides, the weather is begging for one, is it not? Tell me, child, have you ever heard about the onryou of a Shrine Maiden that used to roam around the Byakko Plain?”

Thoma’s eyes widened and he shook his head vigorously. Eri’s lips curved into a sly smile that somehow was even more cat-like than the nekomata courier’s.

“When I was a little girl, here in Konda Village, the adults would always tell us not to light up candles outside at night, for fear that would attract the spirits. But there was this other kid, Atsumo…”

Like the experienced storyteller she was, Eri weaved her tale slowly, hinting at small details that would be of significance later on, pausing when suspense was warranted, changing her tone in a way that was almost supernatural in and of itself. Thoma listened enraptured to all of it. To ensure that his attention was fully on the story, you would sometimes ask for his thoughts or nudge him when an important detail came up. When the climax came and Eri dropped her voice one octave lower, Thoma shifted in his chair, accidentally bumping his knee against you and making you realize that he had moved closer to you during the narration. The rain subsided a few minutes before Eri finished the story, but none of you had the mind nor the interest to interrupt her. By the end of it, Thoma’s smile finally seemed genuine.

The walk back to the Kamisato Estate was a quiet one. Both of you were too tired and weary from walking around in your still humid clothes to engage in meaningful conversation. Through it all, you noticed that not once had Thoma touched the package.

“Hey,” he finally spoke once the two of you passed through the main gates of the estate, calling your attention. “Thank you, Hitomi.”

You raised one eyebrow. “I do like being shown appreciation, but not when I’ve done nothing to earn it.”

To your greater surprise, Thoma chuckled. And the sound wasn’t hollow. “It’s just… thank you for being there. I mean it.”

Without further explanation and without waiting for an answer, he passed by you and headed for the building. The blond looked back one last time before slipping through the door, still chuckling at your dumbfounded stare.

Alone under the moonlight, you let out a tired groan. If Thoma wanted to think you had goaded Eri into telling ghost stories because you had been worried about him, then let him. That worked well for your cover. That was what that warmth in your chest was, of course. A sense of accomplishment for progressing on the job.

Chapter Text

“You’ll crawl up here, then take a left turn.”

Karina tapped a finger on a square, letting speckles of soot fall from under her fingernail onto the blueprint. They joined the little grayish smudges spread around the sheet, a testament to how long the discussion was taking. A frown took over your brow.

“Too exposed. I’ll probably run into the gendarmes there.”

“This is why I made this.” With a flick of a wrist that was meant to be graceful, Karina pulled out an apple-sized metal ball and watched in horror as it wriggled out of her grasp and onto the floor. Gray clouds materialized around you, quickly spreading across the room.

“With all due respect, Nina,” you choked around ten minutes later, after Karina had finally found the flask with a solution to dissipate the smoke, “I would rather not have my life depending entirely on your gadgets.”

“Of course it won’t – it’ll depend on your prowess in using them. Do it right and the success rate should increase by at least 27.3%,” the woman huffed.

Tears prickled at the corner of your eyes, still stinging from the smoke. That was only a preview of what would happen if you messed up when using the smoke devices.

Ignoring your disheveled aspect, Karina continued. “You’ll keep going until the end of this hallway and that’s the coroner’s office. But! Even more importantly!” Karina’s index finger dug into another square. “This is where they should be keeping the overly electrified fungal nuclei found in that woman’s body.”

“Nina, that is the morgue.”

“Yes, yes, it is written here.”

“I am not collecting fungus from a corpse.”

“She doesn’t need them anymore!” Karina pouted. “I’m not telling you to prioritize that, I know Baptiste would have my head for that. But if you have a couple of extra minutes-”

“No.”

“But I need them! I think I can use them to make an Electro Cicin repellent – or poison, depending on how you look at it. And you’re the only one who can do it. Only if you have time. Pleeeease?”

Your eyes drifted from little square of the coroner’s office to the morgue, and then back again. They were indeed close to each other. You let out a sigh.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

In the excited dance that followed, another smoke bomb fell from Karina’s pocket.

Throughout Teyvat, a fair share of people would describe routine as a prolonged death sentence. This is a testament to their restless souls: they fear schedules, the thought of repetition may cause internal bleeding. They thrived in the unknown, eager to light the match that may send a firework into the sky as much as it may set a city ablaze. One would find many of those among adventurers, but also soldiers, mercenaries, or simple wanderers.

Despite your professional path – if it could be called such –, you were no such person. Yes, you might get bored and seek some thrill every now and then, but these were sporadic moments. Perhaps that was what made you so well-suited for long-term infiltrations. You liked predictability. And predicting. Which is why finding the kitchen empty that morning with the smell of coffee wafting around and a folded leaf of paper with your alias on it immediately soured your mood. If Thoma was leaving you a note that early in the morning, it could not be anything good.

You went for the note first, deciding that bad news were better if dealt with quickly.

Hitomi,

I had to go to Ritou to deal with some urgent matters. This could take a couple of days. Would you please take care of the meals and the laundry during my absence? I’m sorry for the short notice.

- Thoma

Already at the first words, a rush of electricity ran through your body. You blinked and reread the four sentences over and over, as if on the twelfth time the words could have changed.

Thoma was gone, at least for that day. For the first time since your arrival, you could move around the Kamisato Estate without his constant surveillance. You would have to come in defense of the Knights of Favonius the next time Elke insulted them – whatever it was in the package they sent Thoma, it had truly shaken him. You could not imagine another reason for his sudden trip to Ritou.

Gulping your coffee and burning your tongue in the process, you hastily prepared breakfast for the Kamisato siblings and set it in the dining room. Then, forcing yourself to take deep breaths to control your excitement, you headed to Kamisato Ayato’s study.

The work of the Tri-Commission never ended, if Ayato’s uncanny habit of falling asleep on his desk was any indication. Ever since Thoma’s not-so-veiled indication about not wanting you to snoop around in the dark, you had stopped paying close attention to where the Commissioner had retired for the night. You should probably pick that up again.

Straightening your back, you knocked on the door. “Milord?”

No answer. You tried again and waited longer. Still nothing. Third time was the charm.

“Good morning, Hitomi,” Furuta’s voice rang as the old woman turned a corner. “Looking for the Commissioner?”

“Yes. I wanted to ask if he would have breakfast with milady or if I should bring it to his study.”

“I’m afraid you won’t find him there. According to a note Thoma left me, they both left for Ritou this morning.”

Of course Thoma had also left Furuta a note; he was thorough like that. On the other hand, the Commissioner’s absence was excellent news.

“Perhaps I could take advantage of his absence to do a more thorough cleaning of his study? He’s been cooped up in there for so long in the past weeks that I don’t believe Thoma has had the time to do one.”

“That’s a good initiative, Hitomi.” Your smile stretched. “I will take his study and you can take the young lady’s.” And then it fell.

“I can take both,” you added quickly. “I don’t want you to strain your back.”

Furuta chuckled. “Believe me, I am doing you a favor. The Commissioner has a very particular way of organizing things in his study. It is better that I do it, lest he can’t find his own head next time he goes in.”

“I could learn from you,” was your desperate final attempt.

“Thoma can show you when he’s around. I appreciate your enthusiasm, child, but there is no need to overwork yourself so much. Patience is also a virtue.”

Barely able to keep your fists from clenching, you nodded. That was not a battle worth continuing. Given how zealously the other housekeepers guarded Ayato’s study, you would be disappointed were you not to find at least two corpses, Kujou Takayuki’s kidneys, and a detailed plot to overthrow the Raiden Shogun inside. Whatever was hidden there, you could find out in a late-night stroll.

For the time being, you had to content yourself with accepting the key to Ayaka’s study from Furuta and, armed with a basket of cleaning supplies, a broom, and a mop, heading there.

The style of the room was the same as the rest of the house. Exquisite furniture made of dark aralia wood, light beige tatami floor, a desk in the center on top of a large purple carpet, shelves with different books. The decoration was little and subtle, giving an even greater sense of elegance to the room. A white and red kitsune mask hanging from a wall, a couple of light-colored vases with flowers – a light pink camellia and a plum blossom, you noticed – and a dark blue fan with white and yellowish details on display on top of a cabinet. Truly befitting of the Shirasagi Himegimi.

The desk was the most obvious place to start. Its surface was empty save for a stack of papers neatly placed beside a notebook. Examining them, you saw they were invoices, letters, and checklists related to the incoming Biwa Music Festival. The replies from the invited artists were there as well, and you could not help the curiosity of reading Xinyan’s, written in a hasty calligraphy in Common. Thank you so much, Miss Kamisato! I had a blast during my last trip to Inazuma and I can’t wait to get rockin’ there again! You took a picture with the kamera Sylvain had smuggled you. That one you would keep as a souvenir.

You continued to examine the desk and its drawers, minutely analyzing the documents and then putting them back exactly the way you had found them. They were mostly ordinary – missives from the Grand Narukami Shrine, older contracts and invoices for some “Iridori Festival”, some requests from Konda Village for school supplies. The dates and names seemed to check and you found nothing suspicious about them. One of the drawers was locked but, upon picking the lock, you found only personal letters from the late Kamisato Kayo to someone called “Tsubaki”. You perused them, looking for any signs of a coded message, but once again found nothing. And through it all, not a word about Watatsumi.

Through closed eyelids, you pinched the bridge of your nose to suppress an incoming headache. It was a long shot to think that you would find something in Ayaka’s study. Ayato was the Commissioner, after all. If the Yashiro Commission was having side-deals with Watatsumi, as the client was so sure they were, it should be him that headed such an operation.

More out of stubbornness than hope, you continued to investigate the room, running your hands through every inch of the shelves and opening all the books to see if their contents and covers matched. They all did. There were no secret messages in the flower vases, the fan, or the mask either, only a thin layer of dust that you were quick to wipe away.

Lifting the carpet to check underneath was nothing more than a mechanical gesture. You did not expect to find anything when your hands started feeling the floor. It was only thanks to your experience that you recognized the slight indentation on a part of the tatami, almost invisible to the naked eye. With your alertness raised to its limit, it did not take long for you to find, in the intricately disguised hatch, a small lock, aptly painted the same color as the tatami.

That lock was harder to open, if nothing for the awkward position it required of you, sprawled on the floor and almost sucking the dust on the tatami into one of your nostrils. You could have cried at the soft click of the lock coming undone.

You put your fingers around the indentations and slowly opened the hatch, revealing a small compartment underneath the tatami filled with multiple stacks of papers. your own heartbeat was deafening as you reached a hand out to them. Then you frowned.

More invoices and contracts involving ordinary purchases of the Yashiro Commission. Fireworks from Yoimiya, food and medical supplies, fabric, jewelry, incense, among others. But, unlike the other documents, there were no indications that these were tied to a specific festival or request. And there were too many for those to be regular maintenance expenses. You had assumed that most of those bulk purchases had been in preparation for the Biwa Music Festival but, if that were the case, why would their records be hidden?

Going through another stack of papers, you found that they referred to sales that the Yashiro Commission had made in the past months to buyers overseas. No, to buyers from one specific region: Liyue.

As soon as you realized that, you knew what to look for. Rifling through the papers, you finally located an invoice from the same date you and Thoma had been in Ritou. There it was, the sale of fireworks to Maki from Liyue Harbor. The sale that Yoimiya did not know about.

You took out the kamera and started photographing all the pages. There were several different names of buyers, items, and locations, too many for you to discern a pattern at that moment. You could make sense of them later.

The third stack of papers concerned transactions from within Liyue or from there to other nations. All of those documents were in the Common Tongue, except for the very last one. You squinted at the characters. It was a very dense text, it used mostly ideograms. The heading said something about law, but the structure of the sentence was strange. Your eyes shot down to the signature at the end, making out the name “Enhi”.

Realization came a few seconds later: the text was not mostly ideograms, it was only ideograms. That was not Inazuman, it was Liyuean. You groaned; you would have to find a translator. You snapped more pictures.

As you finished another shot, you suddenly caught the sound of footsteps approaching from the hallway. They were light against the wooden boards, almost as if trying to mimic a feather. No wonder you had not noticed them sooner.

You quickly put the papers back inside the hatch regardless of their order, closed the lid, and threw the carpet over it again. When Ayaka got to the door, you were pretending to dust a bookshelf and hoping that the sweat on your brow would be seen as a result of the cleaning.

“Milady! I hope I’m not disturbing your work- I’m almost done. If you could wait just, uh- five to ten minutes?”

“Please, Hitomi, there is no need to rush on my count. If anything, I apologize for startling you.” The Shirasagi Himegimi gave you a sweet smile that was surprisingly effective in calming your nerves. “Actually, I just came to get a book.”

In three strides, Ayaka was beside you, reaching for a thin violet volume on the shelf. You turned the cover to you.

“It is an anthology of classical poetry. Some of my favorite ones are here,” she explained, seeing that you kept your eyes glued on the cover, unaware that it was to keep them from where the unlocked hatch and its now disorganized content were. “Do you like poetry, Hitomi?”

“I am afraid I know very little about it. Especially Inazuman poetry.”

“I am quite fond of it. Would…” Something flashed across Ayaka’s eyes and her smile turned shy. “Would you like to learn a bit more?”

“Why, yes, that sounds fascinating. Perhaps later?” your voice sounded way too breathless in your ears. It took every ounce of your self-control not to shift your eyes.

“That would be wonderful. Can you meet me in the garden as soon as you are done in the study?”

“Yes, yes, of course.”

With another smile, Ayaka exited the room. You counted to twenty in your mind and, when you were sure the Kamisato princess would not return, lunged yourself towards the carpet again.

You had already gotten the pictures you needed, so it was a matter of making sure the papers were left exactly as they had been before and relocking the hatch. One of your lockpicks almost broke in the process, giving you the opportunity to revisit your favorite Fontainian curses, but you eventually managed to get the lock back in place.

The thumping in your chest was so loud that you were afraid anyone around the Estate would be able to hear it. Finally you would have some good news for Baptiste. You were still biting your cheeks to keep yourself from grinning when you found Ayaka in the garden.

The angle at which the morning sunlight reflected off Ayaka’s pale blue hair made it look like Ayaka herself was the source of the glow and the camellias bended over to catch some of her light. A sight any painter would have given an arm to portray. At Ayaka’s beckoning, you approached and sat down on the blanket stretched out on the grass beside the camellia beds.

“Furuta told me you planted them?”

“Yes. Under her instructions, of course.”

“And since then you’ve continued to care for them.” The tenderest of smiles made its way across Ayaka’s lips. “They are incredibly beautiful, Hitomi. Thank you.”

“That’s just part of my job, milady,” you lowered your eyes, afraid your face might start heating up despite your best efforts. Ayaka giggled at your reaction.

“My mother adored camellias. Seeing them flourish here again, it almost feels like she might come sit down beside me and read to me.”

A hand clenched around your heart. “I’m sorry, milady. That must be painful.”

“No, on the contrary,” Ayaka quickly corrected. “When I was younger, thinking of her would make me sullen indeed, but now…” Her gaze fell upon the camellias again. “It makes me happy to have so many fond memories of my mother. I can feel her with me anywhere I go.”

The echo of those words rang in your mind like the last water droplets that fall after one turns off a faucet. A single cloud drifted across the sky, its shadow falling upon one of the camellias.

“Might I ask about your parents, Hitomi?”

You blinked, recomposing yourself. “They are still in Fontaine. We write to each other from time to time. Milady, why camellias? As the symbol of the Kamisato Clan, I mean.”

If Ayaka was bothered by the forceful change of topic, she did not show it. “Camellias have many different meanings depending on their colors. Waiting, longing, a noble death… But also intense love, adoration. Some have said that this represents the Kamisato Clan’s loyalty to the Almighty Shogun and her ideals. But I believe it is slightly different… I believe it represents the Clan’s love and commitment to the people of Inazuma, and our responsibility to support them.”

The quiet confidence with which Ayaka spoke astonished you. It was as though Ayaka was only stating a fact. That the Yashiro Commission would always look out for the people. And yet, it was not the Kamisato Clan who was struggling to make a living now that the country had been reopened overnight.

What you said instead was, “I can see how hard you work for Inazuma, milady. I am very grateful for that, and I am sure that the people will truly appreciate the Biwa Music Festival.”

“Do you really believe that?” you nodded, satisfied when you saw Ayaka’s smile widen. “Thank you, Hitomi. Your reassurance means a lot.”

And now. The bait. “Thoma went to Ritou today to check for alternative venues, I’m assuming? Just to have a backup plan?”

“Oh.” Ayaka folded her hands on her lap, the excitement in her eyes suddenly dying. “No, he went to settle some personal business this time.”

You raised your eyebrows, feigning surprise. When Ayaka did not elaborate, you pressed. “Milady, I- forgive me if I’m intruding, but… I’m worried about Thoma. He did not look well yesterday.”

With her gaze still down, Ayaka nodded. “We are all worried about him. He hasn’t been having an easy time lately. Has he told you about…?”

Ayaka let the question hang unfinished in the air. No use lying there. “He hasn’t told me what’s bothering him, but I’m still worried. I mean, it’s clearly something serious, and-” you sighed. “I just wished there was something I could do. Maybe- forgive me if this is impertinent- maybe he could have some time off to go to Mondstadt?”

“That would be ideal. That was the first thing we proposed to him, but he refused.” The disbelief must have been written all over your face, for Ayaka quickly added, “He is not ready yet, with the way things happened… I apologize, it is not my place to say more. But I believe you are right, Hitomi. We should at least insist that he takes more breaks.”

That was not the solution you had been looking for, but the new information was intriguing. If, as Ayaka had put it, Thoma was not ready to go back to Mondstadt, something serious must have happened there.  His family could have fallen into debt somehow- no, if that were the case, surely he would have taken the first ship back. Maybe someone close to him had an accident. Maybe his father turned up there.

A spark lit up in your mind. Could that be it? Thoma had mentioned he hadn’t seen his father in twelve years and had never found him in Inazuma. Maybe the man had gone to Mondstadt and gotten into trouble there. Maybe that was why the Knights of Favonius wrote to him. And now Thoma was torn between anger at the father who had left him and his filial duties.

You needed to confirm that theory, evidently, but it made sense. If you could only soften Thoma a little bit more. Then you could-

“Thank you for your concern, Hitomi.” Ayaka’s voice laced you by the arm and yanked you back. “Thoma is lucky to have a friend like you.”

Those words caused a strange knot to form in your throat. You shook your head, repressing a sigh. “Not at all, milady. If anything, he is lucky to have found you and Lord Kamisato.”

The youngest Kamisato smiled warmly at you. Closing her eyes, she replied, “Under the cherry blossoms, strangers are not really strangers.”

The wind suddenly seemed too loud as you tried to focus on comprehending what Ayaka had just said. There were no cherry blossoms in the Kamisato Estate. Seeing your bafflement, Ayaka only giggled.

“It is a haiku about sharing experiences and forging friendships. I had just looked over this one before you arrived. May I show you another one?”

You nodded slowly, finally starting to question what in the world you had agreed to. Fortunately, Ayaka did not seem to notice your discomfort as she opened the book and looked for another poem.

“An old silent pond

A frog jumps into the pond—

Splash! Silence again.”

Another beat passed as you waited for Ayaka to continue. Instead, the princess lifted her eyes back at you, as though expecting a reaction. Oh. So that was it.

“Interesting,” was all you could muster. How was that even a poem? What happened to the frog?

“This poem is quite a mystery. The author never explained what he was trying to convey, so there are several different interpretations. What do you think, Hitomi? Could the pond be a metaphor? Or was he appreciating nature as he saw it?”

That was why you had never cared for poetry. A string of flowery words that went on and on forever and, in the end, could not even make themselves understood. At least poetry in Fontaine rhymed.

“I don’t know. Erm, perhaps both?”

“Oh? How so?”

You fumbled with your words, your discomfort growing by the second. In the end, you managed to utter, “I believe you would have a clearer understanding of this than I, milady.”

A small frown took over Ayaka’s brow, but it quickly vanished. Before you could feel relieved, Ayaka extended the book in your direction.

“Why don’t you choose a poem you like?”

Somehow, that task seemed impossible. All the poems in the book were short and seemed to end abruptly. Almost all of them mentioned animals or flowers without any interaction with humans. If there was any meaning to that, it was more well-hidden than the hatch in Ayaka’s study.

Unable to handle Ayaka’s expectant gaze any longer, you flipped a page and read, “Spring is passing. The birds cry. And the fishes’ eyes are- uh, with tears?”

That seemed to have been a good choice, by the Shirasagi Himegimi’s standards. “That one is beautiful. One of my favorites. What do you think of it?”

“I- I mean, it is- sad?” The birds and the fish were crying, after all. You yourself wanted to cry, though you suspected for different motives.

Ayaka, on the other hand, seemed to think that was an excellent response. She beamed at you, waiting for you to elaborate. Instead of the soothing sensation that Ayaka’s presence had always brought you, you could only feel the weight in your chest as your frustration grew. That entire exchange was pointless for both of you, and you could not understand why Ayaka was insisting on it. Ending it would be a favor.

You shut the book and handed it back to Ayaka.

“Apologies, milady, look at the time. I should be getting lunch ready.”

Ayaka blinked, taken aback. “Yes. Yes, of course.”

“If you need anything in the meantime, I will be in the kitchen. Thank you for your time, milady.”

After a bow, you spun on your heels and headed into the building as quickly as propriety allowed you. You did not look back at Ayaka.

The day could not have gone by fast enough. As soon as the dishes from dinner were washed, you darted to your bedroom and lined up all the photos you had taken on the floor, separating them into groups according to the different paper stacks in the hatch. Then, you started to analyze.

The first thing you did was to go back to the document in Liyuean. While you could not read it fully, some familiar ideograms stood out. Right at the beginning of the document, you found a sequence of three ideograms that were similar to the ones used in Inazuman to write “Watatsumi”. Close to them stood two characters that did not make much sense together – “forbidden luck”, or perhaps “bad luck”. They appeared close to the ones you assumed to mean “Watatsumi” several times throughout the text. You ran a hand through your hair, struggling to undo unwelcome knots. You would write to Sylvain asking him to locate a translator.

For the next several hours, you focused on the transactions directly involving the Yashiro Commission. It was difficult to connect them; the amounts and kinds of items purchased did not correspond exactly to the ones sold. Even so, there were trends. If the Yashiro Commission bought a batch of fifty fireworks and six meters of silk, then about two weeks later there would be a sale of forty fireworks and eight meters of silk.

Something did not add up, though: the selling prices were noticeably lower than the purchase prices. The Commission was not making a profit out of those sales. That ran against Baptiste’s main hypothesis, that the Yashiro Commission was bypassing the embargo to squeeze Mora out of Watatsumi. If those goods were indeed being exported to Watatsumi. Of which there was no proof yet, since the invoices from the Liyuean merchants only indicated sales within Liyue or, on fewer occasions, to Mondstadt and Sumeru.

Pulling out a notebook, you started scribbling down the names of the merchants from Liyue trading with the Yashiro Commission. Maki’s name appeared quite a few times, always noted as 真木 (まき). Few other names were written in both ideograms and the syllabic alphabet. Whether they were the only Inazuman names, you could not be sure; some of the others written only in ideograms could work as names in Inazuman, but you could not know if the same was true for Liyuean. You regretted not having insisted that Baptiste find you a Liyuean tutor when you were younger, too annoyed that he had made you continue Inazuman lessons.

You got through only a handful of invoices before it became too late to continue. It was only a couple of hours before dawn and you would need to sleep at least a little before your work at the estate.

That day seemed to stretch on for longer than normal. Any wishes you had of running to the city and leaving a message for Sylvain were fruitless; Thoma was still not back from Ritou and there were plenty of chores to be done around the estate. As if your anxiety about moving forward with your real job were not enough, something was wrong with Ayaka.

You had just finished setting the table for lunch when Ayaka walked in. She thanked you in a tone as polite as ever and, for a moment, nothing seemed amiss.

Then, you said, “Maybe tomorrow I should pass by Inazuma City and check if the posters for the Biwa Music Festival are ready, milady?”

“Yes, thank you.”

That was when you noticed that Ayaka was avoiding your gaze. And that, as much as Ayaka’s expression remained serene, her smile held less warmth than you had become accustomed to seeing. Curious, you decided to keep the conversation flowing.

“I’m very excited about it. The list of performers is incredible.”

“Thank you, Hitomi.”

You frowned. Usually, Ayaka would have beamed at that and then asked what you liked about the musicians, what the music festivals held in Fontaine were like. Now the rice cakes on her plate seemed to have seized her complete attention.

“I will be in the kitchen if you need me.”

Ayaka nodded again, with the same artificial stretch of lips that politeness demanded of her.

Maybe she was worried about Thoma and Ayato. Surely that was it. You would have to wait for the perfect opportunity to pry.

The perfect opportunity never came, however, because Ayaka was avoiding you. Not physically, at least, but Ayaka had suddenly become more reserved around you, deflecting any attempts at a conversation with polished politeness. It was, in fact, in complete accordance with how any noble young lady would treat her servants. It would not have been odd had it not been for the fact that Ayaka had always accorded the housekeeping staff more attention and warmth than expected from any noble young lady.

The rest of the staff seemed completely oblivious to the change.

“Miss Kamisato? I spoke to her only briefly these past few days, when she asked me to audit some requests from Konda Village,” Madarame said, tapping a finger against his chin. “If there’s anything bothering her, I believe Thoma would know. Maybe try asking him when he gets back?”

“The young lady seemed normal to me,” was Furuta’s answer when you asked her. “Though I would say she always tries to mask her worries so as not to worry us instead… Wait for Thoma to get back, he can get through to her.”

“Is someone bothering Miss Kamisato? Humpf! I’ll teach them a lesson,” Hirotatsu growled, tapping his spear against the ground in a way that made you want to roll your eyes. “But if she hasn’t said anything… Tell Thoma to come to me if he figures anything out.”

At night, as you continued to examine the documents, Ayaka’s empty cordial tone would sneak back into your mind and derail your reasoning. You told yourself that something must have happened between your meeting in the garden and dinner the other day. Surely Ayaka could not be annoyed at your abysmal understanding of Inazuman poetry, it had to be something else. No matter how many times you repeated that, you could still feel the sourness spreading inside your mouth, a taste that only seemed to grow stronger the more you tried washing it away.

Needless to say, you did not make much progress on your analysis. On the third night after that puzzling behavior had started, you did not even try anymore. Instead, your mind racked trying to figure out what you had done wrong – it had to be you, right? – and how you could fix it. Those thoughts continued to plague you throughout the night and into the next morning, clouding your awareness that the dishes you were washing before preparing breakfast were, in fact, already clean. They also distracted you from the footsteps entering the kitchen.

“Morning, Hitomi!”

A cup flew from your hands, rising to the level of your nose before accepting its fate and crashing down into the sink. You were still blinking at the light blue porcelain shards as if trying to understand what had happened when Thoma grabbed you by the shoulders.

“I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to surprise you like that! Did you cut yourself?”

His hands moved to envelop yours, checking for injuries. That was enough to bring you out of your stupor. You swatted his hands away.

“Give me a warning next time, would you?”

“I’m so sorry,” Thoma repeated, wincing at your tone. “Let me make it up to you. Just sit down, I’ll finish readying breakfast.”

You followed the instructions mechanically, your brain still reeling from insufficient sleep. You rubbed your eyes and finally made sense of what you were seeing.

“You’re back.” A pause. “How observant of me.”

Thoma barked a laugh. “I expected nothing less of you. Yes, Lord Kamisato and I arrived late last night.”

Your vision blurred and refocused, taking in the man before you. Somehow, it felt like ages since you had seen Thoma. The jitteriness and sorrow that had been smothering him the last time you saw each other had clearly flown away. His movements were lighter, livelier, more like you were used to seeing him.

You wanted to ask about what he had gone to Ritou for, why Ayato had joined him, what had prompted the change in his mood. But you did not feel like weighing him down. Not yet.

“Would you like some cream on your coffee?”

“Sure,” you replied without thinking.

Thoma continued to prepare the coffee, now with a grin that was borderline mischievous. You arched an eyebrow. Perhaps he had finally decided to poison you.

The coffee mug slid into your field of vision and you saw jagged lines of cream spread across the liquid. Thoma sat across from you and rested his chin on his hands, gleaming with pride.

“I met with Kurisu yesterday and he is helping someone from Fontaine set up a coffee shop in Ritou. I helped them with some paperwork and tips on suppliers and they showed me how to make drawings on coffee using cream. Theirs were so beautiful that I wanted to practice!”

Your eyebrow rose even higher. “And so you drew a maimed centipede.”

Thoma’s smile fell. “It’s a leaf!”

“Oh, right. Uhm… No, not even if I squint.”

“Come on, how can you see a centipede in that?”

“Hence why I said ‘maimed’.”

“Well, that just means I’ll have to practice more and use you as my test subject.”

“If that means you’ll keep making me coffee, by all means.”

Thoma huffed in feigned annoyance, but you could see the corners of his lips tugging upwards. You chuckled, taking a sip of the coffee. As one would expect, Thoma had become quite adept at making it.

“How have you been these past days?”

“Alright. Pretty busy.” You took another sip.

“I saw Hirotatsu yesterday, he said you were worried about something bothering Miss Kamisato?”

Samurai really did not know how to keep their mouths shut, did they?

“It’s nothing, really. I just had the impression- I mean-” You stumbled over your words while the caffeine hadn’t yet kicked in. “You probably haven’t gotten the chance to talk to her yet, but she seems more reserved than usual? As if something is on her mind?”

“I did talk to her last night, but I didn’t notice anything…” the blond frowned.

That reply ruined the taste of the coffee. The disappointment must have shown in your face, for Thoma quickly asked, “Did something happen?”

“No, not really.” You took a larger gulp from the mug. The silence between you stretched and, the longer it did, the clearer it became that Thoma did not believe you. You sighed. Showing vulnerability before an enemy was rarely ever a good tactic but, in that situation, it might be the quickest route to solving your conundrum. “Miss Kamisato wanted to discuss poetry with me, and I know nothing about it.”

“That should not be a problem. Miss Kamisato is patient when introducing new subjects and I’m sure she would value your views on them in any event.”

“But I don’t want to learn about poetry!” You unceremoniously sprawled your arms across the kitchen table and let your head fall between them. “I see no point to it! Especially when the poem is just ‘I saw a frog, the frog jumped in the lake, the end’. Why would someone want to write something so simplistic yet confounding as that?!”

“Did you tell milady that?”

You scoffed at the question. “Of course not! I tried to agree with whatever she said, and then I ran off to prepare lunch. But I excused myself respectfully!” you added quickly as an afterthought.

Thoma hummed, the crease in his brow intensifying. Just when you thought you could no longer take the silence, he spoke.

“Hitomi, what do you think of Ayaka?”

The question caught you entirely off guard. Had you given the impression that you were complaining about Ayaka? “What do you mean, what do I think? She is nice and polite to everybody, she works very hard for the Commission, a wonderful employer… I appreciate her, of course.”

“But what do you think of Ayaka?”

Only after this repetition did you realize that was the first time you heard Thoma referring to Ayaka by her first name.

Upon seeing your stunned silence, Thoma elaborated, “Everyone loves the Shirasagi Himegimi. It’s as you said. She is nice, hardworking, polite… But have you ever seen her bring friends to the Estate? Or go out with them?”

You had not. Thoma continued, “Everyone loves the Shirasagi Himegimi, but that is all they ever see. No one really takes the time to get to know Ayaka. And she doesn’t let her more personal opinions and desires be known either. She tries to be pleasant to everyone, to accommodate others, to uphold the expectations that come with the Kamisato name. When she tried to talk about poetry with you, it wasn’t about poetry. It was her trying to open up and become friends with you.”

It was fortunate that you had already finished your coffee, otherwise you would have choked. You stared at Thoma, waiting for him to rephrase or simply take back his words. He did not. “Thoma, are you insane? I am a servant. Why would she want to become friends with me?”

When you thought you could not be more baffled, Thoma opened up a smile so wide that small crinkles formed around his eyes. “I’ve known Ayaka for almost twelve years. I’ve served the Kamisato Clan this entire time, and she has never treated me as a servant, but as a friend. Ayaka does not care about people’s status, only about their hearts. I know that is uncommon for someone in her position, which is why I always take care to address her with the proper deference in front of others. But this is who she really is. She is a kind soul who yearns to have friends, no matter where they come from.

“So I ask again: what do you think of Ayaka?”

The dossier the Croque-mitaines had prepared on the Kamisatos back in Fontaine was four-hundred pages long, containing detailed information on their ancestry, social status, financial situation, and all personal information about the siblings that could be gathered by word of mouth. Surprisingly little of that had been useful in preparing you for what it was like to work for Ayaka.

The descriptions of the eldest daughter of the Kamisato Clan as a refined and polite young lady had been on point, yes. But there was so much more than that. Ayaka paid attention to the things you said and had even picked up on your fondness for rock’n’roll. Ayaka asked for your opinions and always acknowledged your contributions to the household, small as they might be. Ayaka truly believed that the Yashiro Commission was out to do good for the people of Inazuma and committed herself to that in a way that was as naïve as it was endearing.

Ayaka was, sadly, a fool for trusting you. Yet, for some reason, you decided you did not want to disappoint Ayaka. At least not at that moment.

The answer to Thoma’s question was easy and honest.

“I think she is amazing.”

And you had blown her off.

“What do I do?”

An aura of patience emanated from Thoma as he answered, “Go and be honest with her.”

Without a second thought, you jumped to your feet and darted out of the kitchen. Vaguely, you noticed a sweet aftertaste of cream on your tongue.

“Milady, do you have a minute?”

About halfway through your dash, it occurred to you that arriving breathless before Ayaka would give the impression that the estate was on fire, an inauspicious way to start a conversation. So you forced yourself to slow your gait and breathe, though that did little to alleviate the hammering in your chest as you knocked on the study’s door.

“Yes, please, come in.”

The room was much in the same state as you had left it a few days ago; Ayaka was tidy even as she worked. You forced your eyes to avoid the carpet and the hatch you now knew lied underneath and your mind to repress the lingering question of whether Ayaka was truly aware of the documents therein.

“How can I help you, Hitomi?”

You refocused your attention on the woman behind the desk.

“Milady, I wanted to explain myself. I hate poetry.”

“I… see…”

Taking advantage of Ayaka’s befuddlement, you continued, “I don’t understand why they have to use such frilly words and elude their meaning, I don’t get why Inazuman poems are so short and why they don’t seem to have an ending. Who cares if a frog jumped into a lake, what could that possibly mean?!” You took a deep breath and readjusted your tone to a lower volume. “I don’t know any of that, but I want to. I want to understand why you like it so much.”

The confusion in Ayaka’s gaze melted into concern. “Hitomi, you don’t have to-”

“I want to. Sorry for interrupting you. And I’m sorry that I didn’t understand that last time. I didn’t know what any of that meant and, honestly, I panicked. But I want to hear about your interests as well. If you would like to tell me about them.”

Only the sound of your own breathing trickled down in the silence that followed. For a moment, you regretted your brashness. For having taken Thoma’s assessment at face value and for barging into Ayaka’s study like that. Such a behavior could irremediably compromise your-

“Would you like to take a seat?”

Stiffly, you walked towards the chair in front of the desk and sat down. Ayaka set the papers she had been looking at aside and focused on you.

“Hitomi, why do you like music so much?”

Something played at the corner of her lips. Too shy to be called a smile, but it was there. You pondered the question.

“It speaks to me. Not all kinds of music, of course, but some… They describe things I think or feel in better ways than I ever could. I guess it makes me feel I’m not alone.”

“Would you not say that music is a kind of poetry?”

“Well, to an extent, yes. But music is much more direct. Not only the lyrics, but the harmony as well, it makes it much easier to connect with it. When it comes to poetry, it feels like the author is doing everything they can to prevent you from understanding what they mean.”

“Some poems do give that impression,” Ayaka agreed with a barely repressed giggle. “However, I would say that it is not so different with music. Sometimes it takes a while to understand what the artist is trying to convey and, in the end, much of its meaning comes down to our own interpretation and feelings. With some poems, it is easier to make a connection, while others require a bit more reflection.”

Light blue eyes travelled from you to the pink camellia on the other side of the room and closed for a moment. “There are many interpretations to the poem about the frog, but the one I like the most is that the pond represents one’s peace of mind. The frog is a disturbance; it jumps in and stirs the water, sends ripples far and wide. But even those ripples subside eventually, and the water falls back into stillness. So too our troubles come and pass and, if we are resilient, we may mitigate their effects.”

At each sentence, your mouth felt drier. “I had… not considered it that way.”

“It is no trouble. You are not required to like or make sense of every poem.” Her shoulders sagged almost imperceptibly and, when her eyes settled upon you again, another emotion was displayed. “I sincerely apologize for pressuring you into a poetry discussion. It was not my intention, though I now realize that is what it must have felt like.”

“If I may be so bold, milady, you may apologize by explaining to me why the fish were crying.”

This time, Ayaka was not able to contain a mirthful laugh. “Of course. Do you have time now?”

“Would it be too optimistic to suppose some of these are for me?”

A chuckle escaped Thoma’s lips as he balanced the tray with rice balls on his hands. “I can bring you a batch in a few minutes, milord.”

Ayato nodded, though his true focus was elsewhere. Thoma followed his gaze towards the door of Ayaka’s study.

“My study was exceptionally tidy when we returned. Should I thank only Furuta for that?”

“It would seem so.”

From behind the door, fragments of voices could be heard. A few times, fragments of laughter as well. Ayato hummed.

“Let me know if anything changes.”

“Absolutely, milord.”

Chapter Text

“Is this your card?”

Boniface spoke with such bold confidence that no one would have ever guessed that was his 13^th attempt at getting the right card. No one except you, who had been sitting with him ever since he had started with the magic tricks.

Your eyes flickered tiredly to him, hoping that he would be able to discern the answer from them. No, it was not the right card. Again.

Unfortunately, it seemed that Boniface still had a long way to go in deciphering body language, because he continued to stare at you in eager anticipation. His grin had not faltered once, not even when Elke had shooed you out of the headquarters, claiming that he was disturbing her work and would sleep under the Pont du Mollard if he carried on. You still had taken the time to reassure that he would not be sleeping under the bridge.

Repressing a sigh, you came to a resolution.

“Yes, this is my card.”

The gleam in his light brown eyes was brighter than fireworks. Boniface pumped a fist into the air.

“YES! I knew it! Just wait until Anaïs sees this.”

You would probably have to warn Anaïs beforehand then.

“Good job, Bo,” you praised absent-mindedly, getting up to leave. But Boniface, with his boundless energy, did not intend to let you go.

“Do you want to know how I did this trick?”

“I thought you were not supposed to reveal it.”

“Well, yeah, but you’re good at keeping secrets, right? Aaand I bet they don’t have magic like this in Inazuma.”

You froze, your expression darkening. The boy grimaced, slowly realizing that he had said something wrong.

“Why are you even mentioning Inazuma?”

In a stark contrast to his previous posture, Boniface fidgeted. “Well… it’s where you come from, right? Sylvain told me. He said that's why you are kind of weird, but I think you’re cool.”

It was not the first time you had heard a remark like that. Not the first time from Sylvain either. He did that to get a reaction out of you, knowing that you would arrive back at the headquarters with your mouth foaming and challenging him to a fight.

That was the first time Boniface had been the messenger, though. And hearing that from him did not make you angry. It just made you feel tired.

“Organizing a music festival” was a deceivingly simplistic term, you had come to learn. It made it sound like all one had to do was to secure a venue, a couple of performers, and get people to watch them play. It was not.

Arrangements were made with three doctors and a team of assistants to remain on stand-by during the concerts, in case there were any accidents or someone felt sick. A generous amount of medical supplies were likewise secured. A number of merchants had to be vetted before being allowed to set up stalls near the venue to sell soft drinks and snacks. Another group came up with the idea of selling merchandise with reference to the incoming performers, and that had to be monitored as well – especially after one tried to sell shirts with rather suggestive depictions of one of the bards from Mondstadt. Even the Yae Publishing House was trying to capitalize on the event, preparing the launch of a series of short stories with music-related themes. Not to mention the various decorations and fireworks ordered for the festival days.

Technically, the Yashiro Commission had its own staff to deal with these matters, apart from those working at the Kamisato household and with the help of the minor clans within the Commission. Yet, it seemed that most of these arrangements ended up falling on Thoma’s lap – and, by extension, yours.

“The order of the stalls is wrong, there are jewelry ones in the food area. Wasn’t Koharu supposed to have checked this already?”

The grin Thoma shot you was infuriatingly wide. “Thank the Archons we have you to double-check it!”

You made a motion to throw a pencil at him and he pretended to dodge.

Despite the heavy workload and the tight deadlines, the work itself was not stressful. Ayaka had mapped out all of the steps for the successful organization of the festival in a way that was logical and easy to follow. She also made sure that the division of labor was adequate and no one in the staff was overwhelmed. One day, she insisted that you took some time to make a flower bed with Sumeru Roses in the garden, and you were certain that request had been more to your own benefit than to Ayaka’s appreciation for those flowers; your badly concealed enjoyment of gardening had not gone unnoticed by the Shirasagi Himegimi, especially after Ayaka had asked you about the potted Sumeru Rose thriving on your windowsill.

The rest of the staff at the Kamisato Estate also adjusted accordingly. Furuta picked up some household chores that would have normally fallen upon you or Thoma, giving you time to focus on the festival. Madarame ensured that the requests from merchants and people planning to attend the festival were duly filed and dealt with according to their level of urgency. Even some of the samurai guarding the Estate were happy to run a few errands to ensure that supplies arrived on time.

“Hitomi, do you have the list for the- oh, that’s exactly it! Thank you!”

“Don’t thank me just yet. That ramen guy from Inazuma City is still insisting on having a stall too close to the stage and won’t believe me when I say it’s a fire hazard.”

“Got it. I’ll have a word with him.”

Thoma was meticulous and efficient. You knew that. You had known that even before you had personally met. And yet, you could not help but be taken by surprise at how easy it was working with him. He had come back from Ritou with a new disposition to immerse himself in the organizing the Biwa Music Festival and growing bags under his eyes. You soon gave up on asking him about the latter, especially when the preparations for the festival threatened to consume your every waking thought.

Whenever you were having a hard time getting through a stubborn supplier, Thoma offered to step in and had the matter solved in minutes. Whenever he stared at a page too long with a crease in his brow, trying to figure out the correct amounts you needed for the number of people expected to attend the event, you would snatch the sheet from his hands and come back with an accurate estimate.

And whenever he noticed your shoulders tensing, he would scurry off and come back with a mug of coffee. For some reason, he insisted on practicing the milk cream drawings.

“You’re getting better. This Hilichurl is actually recognizable.”

“It’s a kitten!”

So, despite everything, preparing for the Biwa Music Festival was not stressful. The limited time it left you to do your real job was.

The more you looked at the pictures of the documents found in Ayaka’s study, the more questions you had. As you had noticed in your first analyses, the numbers indicated that the Yashiro Commission had been losing money in most of these transactions, which then raised the question as to why they persisted.

Upon writing down all of the buyers from Liyue that appeared in the invoices, you found four names that appeared way more often than others: 真木 (まき), Maki; 幸音 (こうね), Koune; 榮福 (えいふく), Eifuku; and 舜章 (キヨアキ), Kiyoaki. These were the only names noted in both ideograms and the syllabic alphabets. All four were listed as hailing from the Harbor, but that was hardly surprising. And if their own invoices were to be believed, all of their subsequent sales stayed within Liyue, most of them going to Qingce Village and Chenyu Vale. As far as possible from Watatsumi.

Of course, all the information in those documents could be fake. It probably was, to some extent – they were hidden for a reason, there was obviously something the Kamisatos were trying to cover up. Still, it was not necessarily related to Watatsumi. Even the rumors about the Kamisatos’ support to Sangonomiya during the Vision Hunt Decree were backed by nothing but the insistent suspicions of a few minor clans who had their own interests in seeing the conflict continue. You knew the Takatsukasas were among those, and the other clans they had roped into hiring the Croque-mitaines probably shared the sentiment.

But if Baptiste had accepted the job as it was, he must have had reasons to believe them. It was not your place to doubt him.

It still did not make you willing to share the pictures with Sylvain. If you were wrong about this lead, he would find a way to make Baptiste question your skills. Again.

So when he found a Liyuean translator in Ritou, you quieted the loud ringing in your head and seized the next opportunity to go to the city.

And the opportunity came in the form of a disheveled Madarame.

“Hitomi, I need your help. The Commissioner and Thoma went to Ritou this morning to sort out the reception of the foreign delegations at the Kanjou Commission, but they left before I could ask Thoma to look into these requests from the International Trade Association. Some of these are quite urgent. Could you give them to him? Or, better yet, if you can talk to Kurisu, at-”

You snatched the folder from his hands. “Say no more, I’m on my way.”

But not before properly packing. A wig, a good dosage of makeup, and a flowery haori ensured no sane person would ever associate you with Hitomi as you walked into the translator’s office, a rather run-down cabin to the southeasternmost part of the city. A musty smell invaded your nostrils and, if the deteriorating paint on the walls was not an indication that business had not been booming, the translator’s jumpiness at your arrival certainly was.

“Eek- Er- Good day, ma’am! I’m Liyue- no, I am a certified Liyuean translator! Miura Sota at your service!” spluttered out the man between erratic bows.

Relying on ordinary service providers during an infiltration was tricky. They could have many clients and keep minute records of whatever requests came their way, or they could be largely unsuccessful and more easily remember specific transactions. Everything about Sota screamed the latter.

So you lowered your eyes and shifted your weight between your feet, channeling the man’s nervous energy to yourself.

“G-good day, Mr. Miura! Sasaki Chiyo. My family runs a business in town and they’ve been recently contacted by a potential client in Liyue. They sent this document without much explanation, but it is all in Liyuean. We’re not sure if it was a mistake. We sent it back requiring an explanation, but they haven’t answered yet, and we’re getting anxious. We took pictures.”

You made an exaggerated show of rifling through your bag and pulling out the pictures. Without knowing exactly the document’s contents, the story was a risky one, but it was the most innocent sounding one you had been able to come up with. At least you had not spotted the characters for the Yashiro Commission or the Kamisato Clan, so they were probably not listed as the addressees of the document. There were mentions of the two other Commissions throughout the text, but sparsely.

Before Miura could take the documents from your hand, you recoiled and stuttered, “We really ask that you treat this with discretion, since we d-don’t know what it is.”

“Why, yes, of course! Absolutely! You have my word!”

Miura ran his eyes over the first picture.

“Archons above, look at that. It is a legal opinion.”

Before you could reflect on that statement, Miura started reading pausedly, “I have been requested by the client referred to in Contract 8647 to render an opinion on the legal effects for an unflagged ship registered in Liyue to carry out trade with Watatsumi Island while the Uniting for Inazuma Decree, which prohibits trade between said island and other Inazuman islands, is in force.”

The words rang in the air, echoing in your ears along with your thumping heartbeat. You almost asked Miura to repeat them, lest the stress of the job had made you imagine it all. Instead, you wetted your lips and controlled your voice. “What is the name of the client?”

Miura ran his eyes across the first few pictures, frowning. “It doesn’t seem to be written here… M-maybe further ahead. I’ll need to translate the whole document to be sure.”

“How long will it take you?”

“Well, for a document this dense, I would normally ask for three week-”

“Can’t you go any faster? Please, we’re very worried about how we’re going to react to this,” you added, softening your tone and batting your eyelashes more than strictly necessary. Miura seemed disconcerted, though you supposed that was just his general state of spirit.

“Yes, o-of course! I wouldn’t want to keep you waiting. It’s just that I have orders from other clients to address a-”

“Surely you could prioritize this for an urgency fee.”

“A-a fee?” Miura’s eyes widened as though he had never heard that word before.

“Yes, a fee.” You were gritting your teeth at that point.

“Well- well, I would have to think-”

“Or maybe I can take this to Xue Jiangli, maybe she could get it done faster.”

“No! I mean- yes, there will be an urgency fee and it should be done in two weeks. Is that convenient for you, ma’am?”

In two weeks’ time, the Biwa Music Festival would be over. You would then be able to have a new look at the documents with no distractions.

“Very. Thank you immensely.” You bowed, willing your forehead muscles to smooth themselves. With that, you concluded the transaction.

Getting the translation out of the way lifted quite the weight from your shoulders – even if your bag was heavier with the now discarded wig and haori. You stopped by an otogi tree at the outskirts of town to wipe the make-up off your face, falling back into your regular appearance and your alias of Hitomi.

As you stepped back onto the streets, you could barely keep the excitement from your gait. You were close to something, you could feel it. Your days in Inazuma would soon be numbered.

A spark lit in your chest. You would soon be leaving Inazuma. And then you could renew your vow of never setting foot on the archipelago again. After such a trying period, perhaps you could even convince Baptiste to let you have some holidays – or minor assignments, at least – in Liyue. Maybe you could finally see some Glaze Lilies. Omi, the florist, had told you about those rare flowers once when you went to pick up more of their special fertilizer for your potted Sumeru Rose.

You wondered if the flower would survive in Fontaine. Probably not. There was not enough direct sunlight in your bedroom there. Or in the headquarters in general – too close to the sewers. Nor could you trust the other Croque-mitaines to look after a plant while you were away. Anaïs and Boniface might try, but you were sure Sylvain or Elke would deviate them from the task. The thought brought a bitter taste to your mouth.

Deep in thought as you were, it took you a while to acknowledge the crowd gathered at the main square of Ritou, in front of the International Trade Association. It took a few seconds more for you to notice how, aside from that, the streets were conspicuously empty. No sign of the usual passersby doing their afternoon shopping, and even the few vendors that remained in their stalls looked like they were trying to melt into their counters. Apprehension shone in their eyes. The muscles around your shoulders tensed as you sharpened your senses and captured the scene before you.

The crowd was clearly divided into two groups. The first one was standing at the door to the International Trade Association, so close to each other that, from the distance, they looked like an amalgam of faces in one body. Judging from their features, they were all outlanders. You recognized Kurisu among them. The second group was more dispersed and was comprised entirely of ethnic Inazumans. Most of the sound at the square was coming from them – a persistent harsh hubbub, boiling and threatening to erupt like the volcanoes in Natlan.

And in the small space between the two groups, hands up like a parent trying to appease a pair of bickering siblings, was Thoma.

“We can discuss the appropriate reparations-”

“There is nothing to discuss about this! They need to go!” an Inazuman man yelled, drawing a loud wave of cheers and hums in agreement.

Thoma remained unfazed at the demonstration. His brow was furrowed and he lacked his usual smile, but the lightness in his movement was still there. He was in his element. He was a fixer after all, the best fixer in Inazuma. The best person to handle whatever that situation was.

Turning to the man who had spoken, Thoma said, “Kinjirou, you buy your fishing rods from Munira, who is from Sumeru. Himeko buys perfume from Mingxia, from Liyue. And all of you get Ajilenakh Nuts from Asif. We all live together here and benefit from this exchange.”

“We can find proper Inazumans for all of this!” another man stepped up. “People who respect us and our culture!”

At this, a ginger man standing beside Kurisu hissed, “For the last time, I had no idea you were not supposed to open it!”

Fury spread across the group of Inazumans like wildfire.

“You’ve been living here for ten years and you didn’t bother to learn anything?”

“It’s always like this! You come to profit from us without any care for our people!”

“The Sakoku Decree should have never been repealed!”

Almost as one, the group of outlanders took a step back, which only seemed to fuel the Inazumans’ revolt. The conversation was hanging on a tightrope close to snaping.

Turning your head around, you spotted a couple of Kanjou Commission samurai passively watching the conflict unfold. You ran up to them, the fire burning in your chest making you forget to keep your voice low.

“Aren’t you going to do anything? This could turn into a fight at any moment!”

The samurai looked at each other, then back at you. One of them shrugged. “Domestic security is a matter for the Tenryou Commission. There is nothing we can do.”

“But the Ritou is generally under the Kanjou Commission’s jurisdiction.”

“Well, that is for the Commissioners to sort out between themselves. We don’t want to risk overstepping.”

Agape, you could do little more than glare at them. They had no interest in helping assuage the tension. If anything, it looks like they wanted it to boil over. With a huff, you spun on your heels and dashed towards Thoma.

The retainer blinked, but barely had time to be surprised before you asked, “What do you need me to do?”

Thoma’s eyes shifted across the two groups and you. You could almost see the gears in his brain turning. Finally, he said in a hushed whisper, “Support what I say and be ready to contain.”

Then, turning to the crowd, he let his voice carry. “Your frustration is valid. We value our traditions and we don’t want to lose them. That’s okay. That’s why we have to teach people about them. And accept that these people will also have things about their culture we have to respect.”

You did not miss the choice of words, the grammatical distance Thoma put between himself and the outlanders. You had never heard him do that before; on the few occasions when his roots were discussed, Thoma had always referred to Mondstadt as home. But to be a Mondstadter was the last thing he needed at that moment.

Sifting through the crowd, Thoma found a woman in a green kimono. “Rei, do you remember when that guy from Natlan helped you build your household shrine? He was so interested in understanding why you were doing that, how it worked. And you were happy to teach him.”

The woman, Rei, did not seem so convinced. “At least he wanted to learn.”

“Yes, of course. And people who come to live in Inazuma should also be willing to learn and respect the people here.” He turned to the outlanders and his tone gained a new note of gravity. “Respect is a two-way street.”

“You are right, Thoma,” Kurisu said, bravely stepping forward. “Inazuma has been my home for many years now and it has welcomed us kindly. We are grateful for it, and we want to develop our businesses alongside you.”

It was good that Kurisu was a merchant, and not an actor. He could not mask the tremor in his voice, nor the way he avoided eye contact with the Inazuman group. He was saying what he needed to say, but you all knew that Inazuma had never treated any outlander kindly. Merely tolerating one’s presence was no kindness.

The ginger man who had spoken before also got the cue and started bowing profusely. “I am terribly sorry for what happened! I will do my best to do better from now on!”

The Inazumans were still glaring at the outlanders, but their nerves had been doused. A few rolled their eyes but let their shoulders sag. The men who had yelled before had their arms crossed and their expressions were anything but forgiving, but at least they did not seem ready to punch anyone for the time being. From the corner of your eye, you saw Thoma exhale slowly, taking in the situation.

Before he could determine the next step, the ginger man spoke again.

“But it’s not like I knew you would make such a fuss because of some clothed piece of wood.”

And that was the spark that lit the fire.

The Inazumans’ voices grew louder and irater, a furious cacophony in which words were impossible to discern. The looks on their faces said enough, though.

A couple of Inazumans stepped forward and Thoma moved to physically block their path. They screamed something at him, but he did not move. Some people waved their fists in the air, others booed. At the back, you spotted the two samurai from the Kanjou Commission calmly watching. A smirk unfurled in their lips.

You turned to the outlanders, ready to tell them to get inside the building for the time being, when you caught movement from the corner of your eye. Someone in the group of Inazumans – too fast for you to make out – kneeled down, closed their fist around something on the ground, and swung it. It was a random throw, not aimed at anything in particular. But your trained eyes could see where it was headed.

Without second thought, you reached your left hand out, slapping Thoma’s cheek in the process. The stone that would have landed on him hit your palm instead, and its rough edges were enough to open a gash from just below your middle finger down to where your wrist began.

Your pained cry cut through the noise, attracting the attention of both crowds and the onlookers. Blood started to drip from the wound, soon painting your entire hand. It was not the most painful wound, but it stung badly. You gritted your teeth and clutched the wounded hand with your other one.

“Putain de merde.”

That was not a good choice of swear words.

An Inazuman woman pointed an accusing finger at you. “Look, she even swears like an outlander! Is this what this country is turning into?”

Infuriated grunts followed the question, and the voices around you grew louder. You shut your eyes tightly. At that point, the pressure you were keeping on your hand was causing more pain than helping, but if you did not squeeze something you might just lose it and do something you would regret.

There was a touch on your shoulder and, when you opened your eyes, you saw red. The vibrant red of Thoma’s jacket.

He shielded you with part of his body, eyes never leaving the crowd. His lips were pressed into a thin line, and you could see the tightness of his jaw and neck muscles.

In the months you had been around Thoma, you had seen quite a few shifts in his mood. Joy, frustration, concern, disappointment, even sorrow. But every one of those displays of emotion had been light, tempered by a calmness that few would ever master throughout their lifetime. Thoma was equanimous, in control of his emotions.

He was not like that then. At that moment, an angry flame glistened behind his green irises, threatening to burn whoever got too close.

Thoma was furious.

When he spoke, there was an unprecedented harshness to his tone.

“That’s enough.”

The shift in his aura was evident, for the Inazumans closest to him stepped back. Still, the wrath of one man was not enough to dissuade an entire enraged crowd. A braver – or more stupid – person shouted, “You’re one of them too, Thoma! You dirty Mondstadter!”

Thoma did not even blink at the insult. He held his gaze over the crowd, testing them to make a hostile move. Someone else fell for the trick.

“You always take their side, Thoma!”

He opened his mouth to respond to that, but the person continued.

“And now you’re even corrupting other Inazumans too!”

Multiple pairs of eyes fell back on you. Red tinged the corners of your vision, and this time it had nothing to do with Thoma’s outfit.

“I am not Inazuman,” you spat in Common, as if the mere act of speaking Inazuman were too much for you to bear at that moment.

An indignant cry was heard, someone shifted in the crowd, and Thoma moved, now fully in front of you. He raised his hand, and you recognized the flick of his wrist from that day at the beach.

Before Thoma could materialize his spear, a hand gripped his shoulder.

You blinked repeatedly, struggling to comprehend the sudden sight of the Yashiro Commissioner before you.

Ayato’s eyes hovered over the scene in an almost lazy movement, but even he could not hide the sharpness of his gaze. His voice was quiet, but it resonated far and wide.

“What seems to be the problem here?”

That was the bucket of ice-cold water needed to extinguish the Inazumans’ incendiary disposition. Most of them averted their gazes, some bowed, and a few stuttered.

“L-Lord Commissioner! These outlanders were here causing trouble again!”

“Oh? Is that so?” a note of boredom permeated Ayato’s tone, and it made the man who had spoken recoil.

“And why was I not informed of this disturbance?”

All heads turned to the new voice, coming from a visibly infuriated Kanjou Commissioner. The two samurai who had stood in the corner during the entire ordeal immediately flinched. They hit the blunt end of their spears on the ground and bowed in acknowledgement of Hiiragi Chisato.

“I shall repeat my question,” she began testily. “Why was I not informed that there was a disturbance in Ritou? And why were the two of you simply standing by?”

“Milady, we didn’t- the jurisdiction over these sorts of matters-”

“Falls upon the Kanjou Commission as long as it happens in the territory of Ritou. Not to mention that any situation that may threaten the peace and stability in Inazuma is of responsibility of all Commissions. Would you not agree, Lord Commissioner?”

“Absolutely, Lady Hiiragi,” Ayato responded gravely.

A glint of relief flashed across Chisato’s eyes. It was gone as soon as she turned to the crowd.

“I ask that the aggrieved parties please follow me into the Kanjou Commission. I shall hear your complaints and treat the matter with the utmost attention to achieve a fair solution.”

A few people from both sides nodded, among which the troublesome ginger man. After some hesitation, the samurai motioned for them to follow, while the rest of the crowd of Inazumans slowly dispersed. The outlanders remained huddled together, exchanging glances and whispers with wide eyes.

A light touch on your forearm took your attention away from them. Thoma’s face peered close to yours.

“Are you okay?”

There was a tightness to his voice, to his eyes still. Your mind flew unprompted to the look he had sported but a few minutes before, the rage that was ready to burn all in its path but had shielded you instead. A comforting warmth. Your mouth felt dry.

“I’ll live.”

His fingers moved gingerly to your wounded hand and, with your permission, opened it to examine the cut. Most of the blood had already stopped flowing, leaving only your palm stained crimson. Thoma pursed his lips.

“Scheiße.”

You knew that word and knew it well – you made it a point to memorize swear words in all languages. Laughter bubbled in your chest, and you found yourself unable to contain it. Thoma’s eyebrows shot up in confusion. You shook your head, still chuckling.

“It’s the first time I’ve heard you swear and speak in Mondstadtian, and I got both in the same sentence.”

For a second, Thoma could only stare at you, baffled. The corners of his lips slowly quirked upwards and a chuckle escaped them as well.

“Well, swearing comes more naturally in one’s native language.”

Something in the thought that Thoma, the model of an integrated migrant, chief retainer to one of the most influential families in Inazuma, reverted to his native language when he swore sent a wave of vindication across your chest.

Your mouth acted before you could think.

“You should speak it more.”

He blinked, confused. “What?”

“Mondstadtian.”

A million questions burned in Thoma’s eyes and you had a feeling that you could not and did not want to answer any of them. Fortunately, the voices of Chisato and Ayato caught their attention.

“Lord Kamisato, I apologize for cutting our meeting short, but this seems to be a rather urgent matter.”

“Worry not, Lady Hiiragi. I can see that this merits your full attention. Furthermore,” Ayato’s gaze drifted towards you and Thoma. “My retainers and I have much to discuss.”

To your disappointment, there were no corpses or any kinds of body parts in Ayato’s study. Only books, expensive furniture, and stacks and stacks of papers on every possible surface except for the chairs where the three of you were sitting. Most of those stacks were so high and messy that they looked like they were on the verge of tumbling down. The sight made you miss Ayaka’s minimalist sense of organization.

You tried to familiarize yourself with the greatest number of details of the study while making sure the two men did not notice your snooping. After so many failed attempts to get inside the room, you had to make the most of your presence. Still, in that chaotic space, it was hard to know where you would start looking if ever given the chance.

Ayato addressed you first. “How is your hand, Hitomi?”

Before you set off to the Estate, Thoma had stopped by a pharmacy and gathered the necessary materials to disinfect the wound and bandage it. It was nothing severe, and it should heal over quickly without leaving a scar. It would just feel uncomfortable to flip someone off with your left hand in the following few days. Thankfully, your right hand could do the job should the need arise.

“Absolutely fine, milord. Please, do not worry about me.”

“I am glad. Now, the two of you, please tell me what happened.”

You glanced at Thoma, curious to hear his version of the story as well. Thoma breathed out a sigh.

“One of the wine sellers from Mondstadt, Martin, found an omamori on the ground next to his stall. He thought it was some kind of sachet and, before identifying the owner, he opened it.”

You winced. Even you knew better than to open an omamori. It let all the good luck escape and left the owner with nothing more than a useless wooden tablet. Getting a new omamori meant going all the way up to the Grand Narukami Shrine, which, you knew from experience, was a pain.

“The owner was Yamamoto Kinjirou, a fisherman. He found out, they started arguing, and more people started joining. And soon enough, it was not about the omamori, but about all the tensions brewing between Inazumans and outlanders. The Inazumans feel that the outlanders don’t respect the local culture and making it more difficult for Inazuman merchants to get into the market. The outlanders are frustrated with the restrictions of movement around Narukami. I arrived at the beginning of the discussion and tried to get help from the Kanjou Commission samurai. They didn’t budge, and I feared the situation might escalate, so I found Hisashi and asked him to warn you. Hitomi arrived later, a little before things blew over.”

During the retelling, Ayato kept his face impassive. The only sign that he was listening were the occasional nods of his head. Once Thoma was finished, he turned his lilac eyes to you.

“And you, Hitomi? What had you gone to do in Ritou?”

“Madarame asked me to pass on some requests from the International Trade Association to Thoma. I arrived, saw the situation, and tried to help…” you grimaced. “Though I may have made things worse.”

“Don’t say that,” Thoma interrupted quickly. “I was not able to diffuse the situation. It was my responsibility.”

To that, you offered no reply, choosing instead to keep your head down.

After a moment of silence, Ayato sighed.

“A situation like this has been a long time coming. We are lucky you intervened on time, Thoma. Do you know if Yamamoto has been able to earn a sufficient income for him and his family recently?”

“I will inquire, milord.”

“Please do. If necessary, talk to some of your contacts about buying from him. Check the situation of other Inazuman merchants involved in the incident today as well, see if they are struggling and what we can do to help.

“Also, please make sure Mr. Martin receives one of those booklets on Inazuman customs we prepared last summer and that he is aware in no uncertain terms that the Yashiro Commission will not do business with someone who willingly insults or ignores Inazuman culture.

“As for the rest, I will continue the discussions with the Tri-Commission.”

“Yes, milord.”

“Excellent. Could you go ahead and start fixing supper? I would like to discuss some things with Hitomi.”

A series of alarms went off in your head, telling your muscles and mind to steel themselves. You fought to keep your breathing even, though you surmised that kind of nervousness would have been expected from Hitomi as well. In all those months working and living at the Kamisato Estate, you and Ayato had barely exchanged ten words.

Thoma, on the other hand, seemed to find nothing wrong with the proposition. He simply bowed and excused himself, and you could not help a sting of anger at the housekeeper, as though he were leaving you alone in a Rishboland Tiger’s den.

There was something about the Yashiro Commissioner that made every hair in your body stand. Compared to Ayaka, the information available on him in both Fontaine and Inazuma was strikingly scarce. He made much fewer public appearances, socialized less. Even so, there were some things about him on which the clients had been in agreement: he was cunning as a fox, always scheming something, always ahead of his opponents. Baptiste had guffawed at the description and confessed that made him even more eager to take on the job. Perhaps because he was not the one who now had to stand before Ayato’s scrutinizing gaze.

“That was quite an ordeal you’ve had go to through today, Hitomi.”

You paid extra attention to the way he said your name, trying to catch any traces of irony, any hint that he might have already uncovered your entire plan. You could find nothing. Still. You knew better than to let your guard down.

“It was… eventful indeed, milord.”

“As you have seen, there are quite serious tensions between the Inazuman and migrant populations. They are not exactly new, but I am afraid that the isolationist period and now the reopening of the country have rekindled some old feuds. As someone who has lived most of her life abroad, what is your take on this?”

You blinked, surprised with the question. Before you could reply, Ayato added, “Honesty is a quality I place the utmost value on, and I would appreciate if it were reflected in your answer. Please speak freely and do not shield me or the Commission from criticism.”

Such an obvious trap. As if you could ever be entirely honest with the man who was your employer, a high-level politician, and a noble all at once. And there was the aggravating factor of your true purpose in Inazuma.

Your eyes met Ayato’s, taking in their dangerous gleam. Ayato was someone who found pleasure in testing others, but you had been tested all your life. As you reflected on your answer, you decided you could indeed give a high degree of honesty. You fought your instinct to avert your gaze, focusing instead on the small mole below his lips.

“I think it is a wonder there has not been a bloodbath in Ritou yet. The city is essentially a containment zone for outlanders. They are expected to adapt but receive no help in doing so aside from their own fellow outlanders. Many Inazumans are frustrated with them, but do little to help. If the Shogunate does not start taking measures to stop the discrimination against outlanders, it is a matter of time before a greater tragedy occurs.”

The words came out slowly, but decisive. At each one, you watched for Ayato’s reaction, ready to change the tone at the slightest hint of indignation. But just as he had been when he had listened to Thoma, his face betrayed no emotion.

When you were done, a thick silence was all that hung between you. You suddenly became aware of the sound of your shoes scratching against the floor, the distant caws of the birds outside. The collar of your shirt felt tight. You tried to pull on it discreetly, but it changed nothing.

You blinked and, in the instant it took your eyes to refocus, you spotted the slight curve of Ayato’s lips. A smirk.

The bastard was making you squirm on purpose. The realization lit a spark within you.

“And what would your take be, milord?”

If Ayato was surprised or bothered by your impudent tone, he showed neither. His own voice was light when he replied.

“I must say, I agree with you.” You frowned, surprised, which elicited a chuckle from the Commissioner. “You make important points, ones I have discussed with the Tri-Commission in the past and will continue to discuss in our meetings. Sadly, it seems that the more necessary some changes are, the more difficult it is to bring them about through official means. Different members of the Shogunate hold different views on how to approach these matters.”

His words were subtle, but the message was clear: the Yashiro Commission had been pushing for further support for the outlanders and their inclusion but had been outvoted by the others. When you thought about it, it was not that surprising. The Kanjou and Tenryou Commissions were in disarray after their leading Clans had fallen into disgrace. Without a strong head in these Commissions, they had to put much more effort into securing support from minor clans and conciliating their views, something that the Kamisatos did not have to worry about.

Something that the clients sought to change.

Blissfully unaware of your trail of thought, Ayato continued. “As the Commission in charge of cultural affairs, we are limited in what we can do to help ease those tensions. We cannot liberalize immigration. We cannot redistribute taxes or improve prosecution for hate crimes. But we can promote festivals.”

Unwittingly, your frown deepened. The reaction seemed to amuse Ayato, who proceeded with a patient smile.

“Festivals bring people from different backgrounds together. Social classes, status, nationality… If a festival is well-organized, none of that matters. Everyone will be together, enjoying their time and celebrating a common cause. They will create shared memories. And maybe, when the next disagreement arises, they will recall those memories and decide to talk things out instead of resorting to harsher actions. If they have fun at festivals that celebrate all of their different cultures… maybe then they can gain a better understanding of one another.”

The Yashiro Commissioner was, by all accounts, a pragmatic man. But that was not the speech of a pragmatic man. That was hopeful, yearning. You could almost hear Ayaka reciting those same words. There was no way that Ayato could be as naïve as his sister about those affairs and what the Yashiro Commission could achieve. He would not have gotten that far in his life if he were.

Ayato was playing a game with you, and you were tired of trying to figure out what it was. Fortunately, it seemed that he, too, had had his fill for the day.

“It was a pleasure talking to you, Hitomi. We should chat more.”

Your smile felt brittle.

“I’m looking forward to it, milord.”

It was late at night when you found Thoma sitting at the porch, staring at the garden. He seemed transfixed by the little blossoms of Sumeru Roses that had just begun to sprout. You could hardly blame him; under the moonlight, their purple acquired a deeper, richer tonality. It was beautiful, and the thought that you had helped bring those blossoms to life made your heart swell with pride.

You sat down beside him.

“Hey.”

The corners of his eyes crinkled as a smile took over his lips. “Hey. How are you?”

You did not have to ask to know he was talking about your hand. You rolled your eyes. “Every time you ask that, I lose feeling in one finger. By the end of the night, my hand will have gangrened and I’ll have to saw it off.”

“So you’re feeling great.”

“Like a Zaytun Peach.”

Thoma shook his head and snickered, always in that tone of disbelief at how ridiculous your banter could turn. This time, though, it came out shorter. More tired.

He was tired. You saw it in his eyes, despite the low light. There were no traces of the fiery gleam you had seen in them that afternoon.

You nudged him with your elbow, raising your eyebrows with a silent question. You did not expect him to answer. Archons knew how Thoma had no qualms about deflecting prickly topics of conversation with you. But he did answer.

“I just… It’s hard to strike a balance sometimes. Some of the international merchants have been here for years and they still don’t see themselves as living in Inazuma. They think they are just transiting and, because of that, that they can be completely oblivious to the local customs. Of course, they are a minority. But then some Inazumans focus on them to blame all foreigners for their misfortunes.”

Thoma’s shoulders shook as a heavy sigh left his lips. “We tried to open a community center a few years ago. A place where Inazumans and outlanders could go and learn about one another. But the then-Kanjou Commissioner said we could not do it in Ritou. We could have done it in Inazuma City, but that’s not where the focus of the tensions are.”

Your eyes widened. You had never heard that the Yashiro Commission had attempted such a project. An initiative like that in Ritou… it might have done some good. Images of Papa stopping people on the street, trying to get them to look at his carvings, flashed in your mind. Maybe he could have gotten support at a place like that. At the time, though, there was not even an International Trade Association. No one to turn to.

The smile in Thoma’s lips twisted into a sardonic one. It was a strange expression, one that tied an uncomfortable knot in your stomach. He was looking at the sky. “But then again, even when someone does manage to integrate, they are still labeled an outlander and their voice is ignored. I guess…” He shook his head, biting back whatever sentence he had been about to say. He turned to you, and you could see the rims of his eyes had the slightest hints of humidity. “This whole situation is a bit too complex sometimes,” he finally said.

You had no answer to that. None that was helpful, in any event.

Fontaine was far from perfect in its treatment of foreigners. Legally, they were entitled to many of the same rights as Fontainians. There were enough opportunities to work and make a living. But to say those opportunities were equal was a stretch. To Fontainians, theirs was the nation of innovation, of progress. Unrestrained by the archaic Sumerian rules on what could and could not be researched, Fontaine had achieved a level of technological expertise that was only rivalled by Snezhnaya. That meant that other nations were underdeveloped, and it was Fontaine’s job to assist them in improving themselves. Prejudice was not usually overt, but rather in the small acts, the patronizing comments, the assumptions. The jokes – if they could be called that – singling out anyone who did not look like them.

Fontaine was the land of justice, but it had never bothered to define who justice was for.

It was worse in Inazuma, though. There, xenophobia was a badge many wore with pride in the name of tradition. Of eternity. And in the sixteen years you had been away from the country, nothing had changed.

As soon as you had that thought, you felt a pang in your chest. A voice chided you. Your own. Because that was not entirely true.

There were more outlanders in Narukami now. There were people like Yoimiya, who were willing to extend a hand to anyone regardless of where they came from. There was the International Trade Association to support those who had a harder time adapting. There was-

Thoma was still staring at you with that weak, mirthless smile. You turned away from him, staring at the Sumeru Roses.

“Do you really think the Biwa Festival can help?”

It was a question asked more for the need to say something than for the yearning for an answer. A part of you wanted him to confirm how hopeless it all was, to vindicate your disheartenment.

However, Thoma almost never did what you wanted from him.

“Do you remember when we met Saimon Jirou in Ritou?”

You nodded.

“He is working with a merchant from Liyue. He told me that time that they met at the Iridori Festival. Even though this is a traditional Inazuman festival, milord and milady went out of their way to bring people from other nations to join. I noticed an increase in the number of partnerships between Inazuman and international merchants after that.” His smile shifted into something warm and hopeful. “So yes, I believe it can help.”

It was such a simplistic, naïve reasoning. You should not have expected anything different from Thoma, even if his spirits were lower than usual. But idealism was a contagious ailment and you found yourself wanting to believe him.

“Why did you say you were not Inazuman? At the square.”

A wave of embarrassment and regret washed over you. You had been so furious that you had blurted those words without thinking of the consequences. Hitomi had been born in Inazuma.

“I guess I just never felt like one. After being in Fontaine for so long,” you lied and shrugged, hoping to have sounded casual enough for him to drop that line of conversation.

Thoma remained silent for a moment, staring at the garden. For a moment, he looked like he was going to say something, but then thought better of it. His throat bobbed uncomfortably. Finally, with a light shake of his head, Thoma’s eyes drifted to your hand, resting palm-down on the porch. He reached out with his fingers, tracing the bandage so lightly that you almost did not feel it.

If he asked you how you were feeling again, you would kick him.

Instead, he said, “You shouldn’t have done that.”

His voice was barely a whisper, as if uttering those words out loud had been a last-minute decision. You clenched your other hand in annoyance.

“Stop fretting, this was nothing. I’ve been through much worse, you know.”

A frown took over Thoma’s expression, destroying the serene quirk of his lips.

“I know. That doesn’t mean that I like seeing you get hurt, even if it’s small.”

The air suddenly felt too hot. It made breathing awkward. It made retorting to Thoma’s remark impossible. You let your gestures speak for you, huffing and shifting your gaze to the moon. You heard Thoma’s exhaling, and the pressure of his hand left yours.

“Still, I should thank you for protecting me.”

That was enough to make your head snap back towards Thoma. You could feel the tips of your ears heating up.

“What are you talking about? It was just a reflex.”

To your surprise, those words caused Thoma’s lips to break into a grin. His shoulders trembled and he bit his lips as though fighting back a cackle. Your nostrils flared in irritation. After a few seconds of struggling under your glare, he gave in and giggled.

“Do you realize what you just said? Your reflex is to protect.”

“What? No, it isn’t.” Did he realize what he was saying? Of course, he could not know how absurd it was to say that to a mercenary like you, but still. It was not like Hitomi had done anything to earn that qualification.

“It is. You are a protector.”

“I don’t know where you got that from. You’re delusional.”

“Whatever you say, Hitomi.”

To prove your point, you made a fist and slammed it hard against his shoulder. The tiniest yelp escaped Thoma’s lips, but it was drowned by his continuous laughter. You tried to talk over him, to tell him to shut it, but somehow his laughter only grew stronger.

Minutes later, you admitted defeat. You ended up laughing as well.

“Hitomi, there is someone here to see you.”

The words were so foreign to your ears that you could only blink stupidly and point to yourself quizzically. Hirotatsu patiently repeated the announcement. Someone was at the gates of the Estate looking for you.

You had not asked anyone to come and see you and you could not think of anyone who would drop by just for a casual visit. Even Yoimiya never did, instead keeping an eye for the next time you had an errand in Inazuma City.

Still befuddled by the prospect, you shot Thoma a look. He merely shrugged, his expression too neutral for how unusual the situation was. Then he got up and started walking to the gates, beckoning for you to follow.

There stood a middle-aged man, his black hair tied back into a bun. The edges of his clothes were crumpled, as if he had gotten up too quickly and ran to the Estate. From his jitteriness, perhaps that was exactly what had happened.

“Miss Hitomi, greetings. I- I hope that you are well. In good health. I mean- I hope your hand is healing well.”

You frowned, casting a quick glance at your hand. Three days had passed and the wound was mostly healed. It was obviously not serious enough for anyone to bother paying you a visit. “Sorry, who are you again?”

The man bowed and you swore he let out a yelp before speaking. “I’m sorry! My manners! Abe Toshiro. I- I was the one who injured your hand. It was an accident, but one I regret deeply! I’m sorry!”

The whole scene seemed like a badly written play. Your mind could not conceive that a man willing to cause a riot against outlanders and to risk physical harm to someone would, only a few days later, come to repent his actions so deeply and act so submissively. It was too abrupt a change.

“Apologies mean nothing if you continue to mistreat outlanders,” you said drily.

Toshiro winced, deepening his bow. “Yes, you are right! I am very ashamed of my actions! I will not complain about them anymore, I will even help them! Please, forgive me. I need my suppliers back.”

As he said that, the man lifted his head, but his gaze was not upon you. It was on Thoma. Thoma, who wore a carefully neutral expression, arms crossed over his chest.

Realization dawned on you, forming a lump in your throat.

“Erm, sure. I forgive you. Just go now.”

Toshiro’s eyes widened and you did not miss how they flickered to Thoma, seeking some sort of confirmation. A toothy, exaggeratedly sweet smile spread across Thoma’s lips.

“Well, you heard her. I’m glad this all got cleared up.”

Having gotten the cue he needed, the man bowed a few more times and scampered away from view. Thoma had begun to walk away as well when you seized him by the wrist. He turned to you and his smile shifted into something softer. More genuine. It fuddled your already messy thoughts even further.

“What did you do to him?”

The words came out harsher than you had intended, like you were accusing him. Well, you were. You were just not sure of what. But Thoma did not seem bothered.

“Many of his suppliers are outlanders, or people who have close ties to outlanders. When they heard of his actions at the square, they decided not to trade with him.”

You recognized those words for what they were, an abridged version of the truth. Their implications would have been hidden for anyone who was not familiar with Thoma and how he worked.

He had asked them not to trade with Toshiro. Not until the man had apologized to you.

“Hey, don’t worry about it. Things sorted themselves out in the end, right?”

In one fluid movement, Thoma released his wrist from your grip and landed his hand on your shoulder. He gave it a light squeeze before turning and walking away. You let him, still trying to grasp what you had just seen and heard.

Thoma was a fixer. The best fixer in Inazuma. You kept reminding yourself of that. You knew of his reputation, had heard the panicked whispers of what he did to those who slighted the Yashiro Commission. Of which you were technically part. This was just ordinary business for him.

But a small, stubborn, traitorous part of you wondered if he had not done that for the Commission.

Chapter Text

Shoulders back, spine straight, chin up, hands clasped behind your back. The first step to becoming something was to act like it. And, at that moment, you wanted to be a badass professional spy capable of breaking a person’s spine with a finger, reporting to your boss after a successful mission. So you acted like it.

“Alright, ma puce. What did you gather?”

Baptiste leaned forward over his desk, his purple gaze entirely focused on you. It made you feel important. Seen.

“The banker always leaves for lunch at 12 o’clock. Sometimes 12:05, but never later than that. He takes a lunch bag with him, but it must be something gross because he almost always ends up putting it away and eating out. He likes the Snezhnayan restaurant down the street. Last week he went there four times. He eats alone and, if someone goes to talk to him, he smiles and pretends to like it, but he makes a face as soon as they leave. He never takes more than one hour to eat. Oh, and he orders coffee without sugar after eating, which is weird.”

You clasped your mouth shut and straightened your back even more, indicating that was the end of your report. Baptiste had just recently started assigning you to bigger tasks. To test and develop your skills, he had said. This one had been to tail the director of the Banque régionale fontainaise when he went for lunch for two weeks, and you were determined to complete it flawlessly.

“Does he usually take anything else outside with him?”

“No, just the lunch bag. Oh, and his pocket watch. He’s always checking it, even when he’s eating.”

The Croque-mitaine’s lips curled, his canines flashing at you. He got up from the chair and extended a hand to ruffle your hair.

“Excellent, chérie. Fantastic. Next time, we will go together and I will give you some tips on how to get even closer to the target. Good job.”

You felt your chest starting to swell with the compliments but refrained from smiling because professional spies had to remain serious at all times.

“You can have the rest of the day for yourself now. What will you be doing?”

Like a popped balloon, your shoulders sagged and you dropped the badass spy persona. You wanted to be someone else now. But what would you be…

An idea sprouted in your mind.

“I’m going to the square behind the bank. Some kids were playing pirates there, I want to play too.”

The smile remained there, immovable. Yet, somehow, its warmth had evaporated. You knew something had shifted but could not comprehend what.

“This might be unwise, [Y/N]. You know how other children are. They ask too much and talk too much. You might end up revealing something you shouldn’t.”

“No, no, no, no I won’t! I’ll be extra careful!” you vowed, crossing your heart. The man did not seem impressed.

“Extra careful is not enough, ma puce. You can never let your guard down, understand?” Desperation guided your head to a series of rapid nods, trying to appease Baptiste. He scratched his chin. “How about this: treat this as another assignment. Go, play with the children as if you were one of them. But pay attention to what they say and do, their secrets. Then report it all back to me. Understood?”

“Yes, yes,” you agreed hurriedly. You straightened your back again. “Understood.”

Compared to the stages used in concerts in Fontaine, gigantic metal structures with multi-colored spotlights and hidden doors for special effects, the wooden stage set up on Amakane Island was exceedingly simplistic. Boring, even. The design was functional, with plenty of space for the performers to move and places for lanterns to be hung; aside from that, it was utterly devoid of remarkable details.

Despite that, Ayaka seemed pleased. From the way her eyes gleamed as she surveyed the venue, you could tell that she was already picturing the festival days.

“This is a wonderful job. Thank you very much for all your hard work.”

The reactions of the group of workers ranged from blushing to looking away and scratching the back of their necks like bashful teenagers. Being praised by the Shirasagi Himegimi tended to have that effect on people, you had noticed.

A braver one, one of the women who had been fixing the beams above the stage that morning, stepped forward.

“It is us who must thank you, Miss Kamisato! This job has been really important to us.”

“Thank you, Miss Kamisato!” the rest of the group echoed in a messy chorus.

The smile Ayaka shot them elicited a few more gasps and flushed faces before the group dispersed to finish their tasks for the day. Only some final touches on the stage and nearby stalls remained. One of the workers, a young man wearing a blue bandana that covered most of his dark brown hair, stayed behind. As soon as Ayaka’s gaze fell upon him, he fell into a bow so deep that you feared for the integrity of his spine.

“Miss Kamisato, I must once again express my deepest gratitude.”

“There is no need for so much deference, especially when you are the ones working hard here,” the Kamisato Princess’s voice floated along the breeze. “What is your name?”

“Sakoyama, ma’am. I had been out of work for many months before your retainer reached out to me about the festival. And I know most of us here were in the same situation. Some were even considering joining the Shugosha, just imagine of that!”

That was new information to you. Thoma had directly handled the organization of the venue, so you had not been aware of how the workers had been selected. If that man was right, that meant that Ayaka had deliberately directed the available spots to people who had been struggling financially, keeping them from joining the extremist ronin group.

Your eyes flew to Ayaka, a glint of curiosity in them. The Shirasagi Himegimi paid you no mind and nodded sympathetically to Sakoyama.

“I am sorry to hear that. I do hope that the pay from this commission has been able to provide some relief.”

“Yes, ma’am! In fact, just the other day a representative of the Kanjou Commission came by and invited a bunch of us to work in another construction project in Ritou.”

“That is terrific. I wish you all much success in this new project and, should you ever need any assistance, please do not hesitate to send a request to the Yashiro Commission.”

Sakoyama spouted at least six more ‘thank you’s and praises to Ayaka before finally taking his leave. As soon as he was out of earshot, you tilted your head to Ayaka.

“Milady… you sent the Kanjou representative here, didn’t you?”

For someone who had been handling Sakoyama’s avalanche of compliments so well, Ayaka broke down rather quickly at your question. The younger woman’s gaze shifted to the ground as a light pink dusted her cheeks.

“I… asked Brother to mention the quality of the work here in his last meeting with Lady Hiiragi. I suppose it bore fruit.”

Despite the excitement about being able to watch an international music festival – with Xinyan, no less –, it had bothered you at first that such a big project would take place in Inazuma’s current economy. It seemed like a waste of public funds, a way to divert the people’s attention from the mismanagements of the Tri-Commission.

Perhaps you had judged it too hastily. Judged the Kamisatos too hastily.

“You are amazing, milady.” That was enough to complete the transition of Ayaka’s face from a pinkish hue to a bright red.

“I- That’s no-” Ayaka cleared her throat and took a deep breath, visibly fighting to regain her composure. You watched with amusement as the color of her cheeks slowly returned to normal. “I am doing nothing more than my duty to Inazuma. The ones who really deserve praise are the workers.”

“Uh-hum. Sure thing.”

An upwards quirk came to Ayaka’s lips at your light teasing. “In any event,” she started, giving one last glance over the island. “Was there anything we need to check today? The flags Ayame is making?”

“Checked them yesterday. She will be here tomorrow morning to put them in place.”

“Perfect. In this case, why don’t you take the rest of the day off?”

You frowned, letting confusion show in your face.

“But we’re so close to the festival.”

“Exactly. The first performers and their delegations are arriving in two days. We will barely have time to breathe after that. It’s best that you rest up as much as you can before then.”

There was logic to that. With a knowing smirk, you shot back, “I hope you do the same, milady.”

“I will, don’t worry about me.”

“If I didn’t worry, I would be in the wrong line of employment.” The retort flowed easily. So much, in fact, that for a brief second you forgot what your actual line of employment was. Ayaka giggled warmly, oblivious to the irony.

“Alright, alright. I’ll just meet up with Thoma at Komore Teahouse to discuss some last details, and then I will also be done for the day.”

That was a good plan. You could hardly remember the last time you had had any time off and, if the way you had threatened to bite off the finger of a stubborn boba seller three days prior was any indication, you sorely needed some. Now, with the next steps of the infiltration essentially on halt until Miura finished the translation, it seemed like the perfect moment.

You and Ayaka parted ways at the entrance of Inazuma City. After a few minutes of aimless wandering, you decided how you would enjoy your free afternoon.

Yoimiya was constantly talking about Aisa Bathhouse, how she always came out feeling like all the muscles in her body had been swapped by new, better ones. She had invited you to go there on more than one occasion, but there was never enough time. A quick stop by Naganohara Fireworks revealed that Yoimiya was not at the shop to accompany you, but by then you were already too enthralled by the idea of a relaxing and quiet hot bath to change your plans.

You were in luck; the attendant at Aisa Bathhouse told you that one of the baths was empty and they were not expecting many customers that afternoon, as it was the middle of the week. You wasted no time changing out of your clothes and entering the pool.

A sigh of contentment escaped your lips as soon as you felt the warm water envelop your body. Yoimiya’s descriptions had not been exaggerated; the bath was divine. The soft sound of the water cascading into the pool from pipes carved out of bamboo and the steam gently wafting around made the place seem like a domain crafted specifically for relaxation. You could get used to that.

To think that you were able to find such peacefulness in Inazuma, even if for a short time, felt like a joke. You refused to dwell on those thoughts in your precious afternoon off. You focused on the quietness instead, willing your muscles to unclench. The water danced around your wiggling toes, a simple act that brought you indescribable bliss.

It was in that rare state of tranquility that an idea slithered into your mind. It had been so long since you had been entirely alone like that. And so comfortable. Who knew when you would have another opportunity.

You adjusted your back to a more comfortable position and let your hands trail lower and lower down your body. A soft sigh escaped your lips as you closed your eyes and let your mind drift away. It took you to a warm, familiar place. The arms of Captain Beidou.

Beidou stood on top of you, a lustful gleam in her eye and a lopsided smirk on her face. As if the sight were not breathtaking enough, Beidou quickly pressed her mouth against your collarbone, ensuring that any remaining air flew out of your lungs. The older woman kissed and nibbled on your skin, lips trailing up your neck while her hands reached for lower places. Moans flew from your mouth before you could help it, eliciting a chuckle from Beidou. As your mind slipped further and further into bliss, you shot a half-lidded stare into bright green eyes, the fire burning behind them sending a surge of heat into you.

You halted. Green eyes. No, that was wrong. Beidou did not have green eyes. They were red. Well, the one eye not covered by the eyepatch was. You grunted and shifted, willing your fantasy back to its proper course.

The vision that was Beidou reappeared and, this time, you focused on her touch. How her hands explored every inch of your body, curious and hungry. The grip was so firm you felt you could go completely limp in it. The hands were rough, but gentle. Dexterous as well. You could feel the calluses on them, surely left by daily manual labor and heavy training with the polearm.

Except that Beidou’s signature weapon was the claymore.

Once again, you stopped abruptly. All muscles in your body went taut at once as you made out a mess of blond hair rising from the steams of the hot spring, hovering before you. A smile that you had grown accustomed to seeing every morning.

You threw your head back, crying out in pain as it hit the edge of the pool. You spat a string of curses and sat up with your fists clenched.

Why in all of Celestia was Thoma crashing into your fantasies like that? How had he managed to keep an eye on you even there?

Focus, [Y/N]. No, Thoma did not have psychic powers. Deep breaths. You had to rationalize. This was your own fault, your own mind leading you astray. But why?

You were not interested in Thoma. Not as anything other than his being an obstacle that you had to overcome to complete your job. Anything other than that would be ludicrous. Besides, it was not like Thoma could ever compare to the sea goddess incarnated in human form that was Captain Beidou. Even if he had a pretty smile. Even if his eyes were an astonishing shade of green. And how brightly they had burned that day at the square in Ritou-

You sunk your head underwater and wailed until you had no oxygen left. When you emerged, you could still feel your cheeks heating up.

Alright. Thoma was attractive. You could admit that much. You had seen plenty of attractive people in your life. Yoimiya, the Kamisato siblings, even that dramatic architect from your last job in Sumeru. The point was, you could see the physical appeal. And you had not fantasized about anyone in a while. It made sense that your mind would turn to Thoma, whom you saw every day and with whom your relationship had much improved lately. It was all for the sake of the job, but still. It was reasonable. Now that you had figured that out, you could turn your mind back to its rightful place.

Shutting your eyes with way more force than necessary, you leaned back and pictured Beidou again. It was a two-second reprieve before you found yourself once again pinned under the chief retainer’s gaze. Such an intense gaze.

His voice tickled your ears, softly carrying your name. Your real name.

Your fist pierced through the steam and dissipated the illusion. You grunted.

The way you saw it, there were two options. Shriek in frustration and leave the bathhouse even more pent up than you had arrived. Or allow yourself to enjoy the moment through an embarrassing fantasy that no one but you would ever know about. No consequences outside of your own mind.

You could live with the haunting shame.

With a resigned sigh, you forced your body to relax in the water again and brought your hand lower. It did not take long for him to reappear. He flashed a smile at you. This time, you smiled back.

It had been a bad choice, all things considered. Not that fantasizing about one’s coworker was ever wise. But doing so while undercover took a special kind of fatuity. And doing so when you were well aware that Celestia hated you and had proved that on numerous occasions… Honestly, you were just asking for it.

It turned out that Thoma had also gotten the afternoon off that day, after his meeting with Ayaka. He had spotted you from Yae Publishing House and waved, and you had not been able to come up with a socially acceptable justification for darting off in the opposite direction.

Which led to your current predicament, standing side by side with the person you had spent the last hour fantasizing about, nose buried in the first book you could find to avoid having to look directly at him. If you concentrated hard enough on that half-assed narrative about a mortal reincarnated as the Raiden Shogun, then you would be able to erase the recent events from your mind and interact with Thoma as you always had. Or simply ignore him. That would be the least terrible option.

“Is everything alright, Hitomi?” Thoma asked, lifting his eyes from the book he had been perusing away and once again ruining your carefully laid out plans. “You look upset.”

You focused your gaze on his nose. That way, you could pretend to look at his face like one would in polite conversation and avoid glancing at his eyes. You had seen enough of them for that day.

“Just tired. Bad night of sleep,” was your curt reply.

“Really? I didn’t notice that this morning… Are you sure nothing happened after that?”

There was no easy way out of that. Not with Thoma and his infuriating perceptiveness. Steeling yourself, you shut the book and put it away.

“Got a bit stressed with one of the workers on Amakane Island. Nothing to worry about, just got me in a mood.”

He pursed his lips and hummed. “How about we get something to eat at Kiminami? My treat. Oh, but before that… Sir, I’ll take this one.”

The vendor collected the Mora and put the volume Thoma had indicated in a small bag. In that exchange, you were able to make out the title: Kumono Shoki and the Seven Talismans, Volume I.

“What’s that book?”

“Oh, it’s great! It’s actually a manga – a comic book, but with a very distinct Inazuman art style. It’s about this village boy who finds a strange amulet that takes him to a kingdom in the clouds. As soon as he gets there, the youkai king is murdered and Shoki is framed as the main suspect. He travels far and wide to prove his innocence, with the help of a crew of pirates that are fighting against corruption in the kingdom.”

“Pirates?”

You liked pirates. Pirates brought you closer to Beidou and far, far away from the place to where your thoughts in the bathhouse had abducted you.

“Even better: sky pirates.” Sensing your interest, Thoma shot you a wide grin. “I don’t want to spoil anything to you. You can borrow it as soon as I’m finished!”

“I’m hoping you’re a fast reader.”

“I’ll do my best,” Thoma chuckled, starting to head towards Kiminami Restaurant. That was your cue to leave.

“Actually, I think I’m going to head back to the Estate.”

For a brief second, you could have sworn you saw Thoma’s grin falter, but then again, you were trying your best not to pay attention.

“Are you sure? It’s not good to walk back on an empty stomach.”

As if on cue, you felt your stomach tightening, reminding you that you had only had breakfast that day. At least it did not grumble. Still, you were done making unwise choices for the day.

You were about to insist that you could not join him when a familiar voice, in an equally familiar volume, barreled into you.

“HITOMI!”

The next thing you knew, you were being pulled aside by a force comparable to that of a rampant Geovishap in an Yoimiya-shaped body.

“What the-”

“We are having a ramen eating contest and we need an impartial judge!” declared Yoimiya, forcefully raising your arm as if you had already agreed to do it. Another voice spoke before you could.

“Oh, nonononono, absolutely no way, compadre! She is far from impartial!”

As rambunctiously as his protests, Arataki Itto strode into your field of vision, arms crossed and head shaking. His retinue followed not far behind: Shinobu and the three men you had met during the Mauve Tempest incident, Akira, Genta, and Mamoru. The numbers did not seem to intimidate Yoimiya.

“Well, it’s better than someone from your own gang! No offense, Shinobu.”

“None taken. But I have to agree with the Boss. Hitomi used to be your employee, that puts her impartiality into question.”

“What she said! My deputy leader knows her stuff!” Itto’s vote of confidence was seconded by cheers from the three men. Yoimiya bit the inside of her cheek.

“Well, fine! Let’s have Thoma do it then!”

“Uh- me?” Thoma pointed a finger at himself, apparently following the conversation as much as you. Which was not at all.

“Yoimiya, what’s all of this about?” you finally asked.

“You see, today a group of kids was talking about the Great Mujina Youkai near my shop, so I took some time off to help them design a trap to catch it. After a while, Itto came and started saying that the kids were supposed to hang out with him today and that I had stolen them.” She sent Itto a pointed look. “Then he challenged me to a duel and I accepted!”

The oni threw a fist up in the air. “Yeah! To see who the kids’ greatest hero is!”

“How is eating ramen going to determine that?” you inquired, earning a roll of eyes from Itto.

“Not that I would expect you to know that, but a true hero’s heart is as big as their stomach. You gotta be ready to survive in all kinds of scenarios and eat all sorts of things. So the more you eat, the stronger you are!”

“Anyway-” Yoimiya intervened, sparing you from the choice of whether or not you should argue against Itto’s logic. “The kids are waiting for us at Kiminami, but we still need an impartial judge to keep track of how many bowls each one eats. Thoma, would you do that for us?”

“Now we’re talking,” Itto agreed. “My man Thoma here is an upstanding citizen that I trust completely.”

“Well, I’m flattered,” Thoma began with a chuckle. “And I was just talking about getting some food, so why don’t we all go together?” He sent you a glance, trying to widen his eyes like a pleading puppy.

So different from how they were at the-

No. Nope. You could not let your mind go there.

“Since you’re not judging, then you can cheer me on, right?” Yoimiya grabbed your arm again, shooting you a disarming smile. “It’s not fair that only Itto gets to have supporters!”

“Yoimiya-”

“Please, please, please! We haven’t hung out in so long with how busy you’ve been!”

“Come on, bro! Don’t make me challenge you too!”

So much noise and insistence for something so trivial. The bad-choice-alarm inside of your brain screamed for attention.

And yet.

“You got this, Naganohara. Don’t give up on me now.”

Yoimiya gave no indication that she had heard your words over the children’s cheers and the Arataki Gang’s desperate shouting. She flickered the chopsticks at top speed, slurping down the contents of the bowl so quickly you feared she would choke on an ajitama. Beside her, Itto was just as frantic.

It would have been suspicious if you had refused, right? You needed to maintain your cover after all, to continue winning their trust. Besides, focusing on the legendary Nagarataki Duel, as Kiminami Anna had so eloquently dubbed it, would keep your mind well away from unwanted thoughts.

“Yoimiya’s done with her fifth bowl,” Thoma announced, adding another check beside Yoimiya’s name on his notepad.

“Don’t let that get to you, boss, just keep your rhythm!”

“Your record is much higher than that, you got this!”

“If you get sick, go to the back. We can’t afford to pay if you make a mess in the restaurant.”

The last remark came from Shinobu, ever the sensible one.

Itto finished his own fifth bowl of ramen soon enough, and a sixth one was placed in front of each contestant. The brash grin that had Itto had previously worn was now no more than a forced stretch of lips. He would not last long, you could tell. Not that Yoimiya was looking so much better; the healthy rosy blush of her cheeks had started to acquire a worrying green undertone. Still. You had chosen your champion.

“He’s cracking, Yoimiya. Just one more.”

“I HEARD THAT!” roared Itto, eliciting a wave of laughter from the trio of kids for the benefit of whom that entire event was being held. Once again, Yoimiya did not reply, focused on the prize.

The assessment had been correct. Halfway through his bowl, Itto started to slow down. The red paint running down his cheeks became even more prominent as his face paled. You could only smirk when the oni finally stood up and rushed to the back of the building, covering his mouth with his hands in the process. His usual sequitur followed closely behind, Shinobu at the back, pinching the bridge of her nose as if she expected a migraine to come through.

In a stark contrast to Itto’s despair, Yoimiya threw her arms up, basking in the shouts and cheers of the three kids as Thoma declared her the winner.

“Big Sis wins again!”

“That was even better than last time!”

“I hope Bro Itto is okay…”

“He will be, don’t worry,” Yoimiya assured them gently, ruffling the hair of one of the boys.

“THIS IS NOT OVER! BEST OF THREE!” Itto’s voice rang from behind the restaurant, followed by a string of terrible sounds that seemed to come from the pit of his stomach. The children’s only response was laughter, in that light-hearted way only children have of someone who is both oblivious to human suffering and to how their mockery contributed to it. It was endearing. Still, Yoimiya took that as the cue to go around the building and check on Itto.

Taking advantage of the confusion, you saw Thoma approaching the counter and discreetly sliding a pouch of Mora into Anna’s hand. You crossed your arms and cleared your throat.

“You’re going to end up bankrupt at this rate.”

The smile Thoma offered you in return was almost sheepish. “It’s just a small courtesy, it’ll be fine. Besides, what good is having Mora if you can’t treat your friends once in a while?”

“Saving some to treat yourself.”

“I can do both,” Thoma said simply, shoving his hands into his pockets and turning to the children. You watched as they flocked around him, buzzing with ideas about what form the next Nagarataki Duel – for it was certain there would be another one – could take. Their energy was overwhelming, speaking over one another and conveying a thousand different ideas in just one breath. You felt tired just from watching them.

Boniface was like that sometimes. It had gotten worse after you had snuck him and Anaïs to watch a magic show. The performers were twins as well, and Boniface had spent hours going on about how he and Anaïs could be just like them, but better. By the end of the evening, you had started to regret her choice of entertainment for the kids, nodding absent-mindedly to anything Bo said.

Boniface was probably not as talkative now, with Karina as his only company in Liyue. Archons knew that Karina had a way of shutting out the world around her and focusing only on what interested her. And Boniface had never interested her.

You should have been more patient.

“This is not over, compadres!” came Itto’s voice, an unexpected blessing snapping you out of your thoughts. His face had regained some color and he had even managed to stand on his own, though Akira and Genta already had their arms out to support their boss if the need arose. “I have to admit that Bro Yoimiya’s endurance caught me off guard, but that won’t happen again. I am ready for a rematch!”

“Ugh… Itto, now I’m the one who can’t eat anymore… Do you really want to do this now?” Yoimiya whined.

“Yes, yes, do it now!” one of the girls yelled. Then, seeing the befuddled stares from the other kids, she justified herself, “The more tired they are, the funnier it will be.”

“That’s really mean, Saika!” Yoimiya chided in a hurt tone, causing the girl to blush.

“Well, everyone knows that a respectable duel needs three rounds to be completed, so delaying the next one only delays knowing who the victor is,” Itto stated, crossing his arms. Shinobu let out a tired sigh.

“Boss, there is no harm in leaving this for another day-”

“What? How can you say that, Shinobu? And make the kids deal with this kind of anxiety? Are you heartless now?”

“Maybe,” Thoma pipped up, bringing all eyes to him, “you can do a non-food related duel this time. Like seeing who picks up the greatest number of conches at the beach in ten minutes. What do you think?”

“Thoma, my man, you truly are a genius when it comes to organizing duels. Ever thought of working with that?”

“Erm… No.”

“Well, we can discuss that later. There might be a spot in the Arataki Gang. But now… To the beach!”

Before you could even consider making your exit, Yoimiya linked an arm around yours. Upon seeing your puzzled expression, Yoimiya only grinned.

“I can’t do it without my number one supporter, Hitomi! No, seriously,” she added when she saw you scoff and roll your eyes. “You kept me fired up there! You were really intense, you know.”

“What?” you felt uncomfortably self-conscious at the thought that your reaction had been exaggerated. However, Yoimiya quickly giggled and shook her head.

“I loved it! It warms my heart to know I have such a dedicated friend.”

Instead of the wave of relief you had been expecting, those words only made your heart rate quicken. At the same time, a strange knot formed in your stomach.

Before you could think more about it, Yoimiya changed the subject. “Thoma mentioned to me that you are having the afternoon off. Is Ayaka around too? Does she want to join us?”

“No, milady went back to the Estate already.”

“Oh.” Yoimiya’s grin faltered, but she quickly put it back in place. “That’s a shame. But there’s always next time, right?”

On your way down, your eyes drifted to Thoma, walking a few steps ahead of you. One of the boys had begged to try his headband and the retainer had complied. Of course, the headband was too big for the kid, but that did not stop him from holding it in place while chasing the others, pretending to be an oni because hey, look, he had horns now. Thoma laughed heartily at their antics, stopping only from time to time to exchange a word with Shinobu, who seemed eager to know more about the Biwa Music Festival.

The stretch of beach chosen for the second duel was close to where you and Thoma had hunted for crabs what seemed like an eternity ago. This time, you did an overview of the perimeter first, making sure no ronin would jump out and put the children in danger.

“Am I the judge again?” Thoma asked one of the boys, who nodded before returning Thoma’s headband.

“We keep time and you count how many conches each one got in the end. On your marks, ready, set… GO!”

Without wasting time, Yoimiya and Itto darted across the sand, scouting for any and every item that could ensure their victory. The children could not bear to simply stay idle and started to help them as well, pointing out conches here and there and squealing in delight as Yoimiya and Itto grappled for them. All the while, the kids and Shinobu watched Mamoru, Genta, and Akira to ensure they would not interfere on Itto’s favor. Because that would be cheating.

Sprays of sand flew off the ground, forming a mess of golden curtains before returning to their proper place. A few times, a larger wave would come and add to the picture, eliciting screams from the children as they tried to evade the water, only to be transformed into laughter seconds later, when they realized that it would be impossible to come out of that challenge dry.

Without noticing, you had sat down on the sand and watched the scene unfold. Awareness of your surroundings returned when you felt the sand beside you shifting.

“It’s been a while since I’ve relaxed so much,” Thoma remarked, settling down beside you. You shot him a mocking smirk.

“I thought doing housework was your form of relaxing.”

“Hey now, don’t make me sound like a workaholic! I know the importance of keeping a balance between work and leisure. Sometimes it’s just hard to find it.”

“Tell me about it.”

Thoma stretched out his arms and folded them behind his head, leaning back to rest on the sand. He closed his eyes for a moment, releasing a soft breath that seemed to carry loads of hidden tension with it.

“Uhm… I might take a quick nap.”

“Are you serious?” Thoma cracked one eye open at you. “You can’t let your guard down like that. We were attacked here last time, remember?”

“We checked for danger this time. Besides, if something comes up, you’ll warn me. Right?”

“Of course,” You scoffed, digging your hand into the sand. The blond grinned.

“See? Nothing to worry about. I trust you.”

Clearly, those words had to be taken in their context. He trusted you not to kill him in front of the entire group while he slept. He trusted you to wake him up in case of danger. It was not an unreserved pledge of trust, applicable to any situation.

Still, it made you want to shake him by the shoulders.

No. It made you happy. Of course. That was a good development. That was the plan. Even if it gave you a headache to come across such gullible people.

Your fingers eventually found a small flat stone in the sand. Instinctively, you rose to your feet and, with a flick of your wrist, tossed the stone. The sea was relatively calm and the stone skipped twice before sinking under the waters.

A surprised gasp brought your attention to the fact that Thoma had sat up and was watching you with wide eyes.

“Hitomi, you know how to skip stones? That’s amazing!”

“I’m starting to think you never actually read my letters of recommendation.”

The joke was getting old, but Thoma still snickered.

“I’m serious! That’s quite the talent! I’ve always tried to do that, but they always just sink.”

“You probably just haven’t been using the right stone.” You crouched down and sifted some of the sand through your fingers. “It has to be a smooth, flat one. Not too big.”

Your eyes caught one such stone lying not too far from Thoma, and you pointed for the retainer to pick it up. He complied, getting up, and doing his best to mimic your stance. The stone flew too high and too much at an angle. You could mentally hear the plop sound before it even landed on the water. Thoma chewed on his bottom lip, trying to figure out what he had done wrong.

Without waiting for his brain to catch up, you got up and put another stone on his hand.

“You have to throw it as much in a straight line as you can. Bend your wrist.”

Thoma moved his wrist back and forward without letting go of the stone, eyeing you for approval and making small adjustments to his posture when none came. He almost thought he had it when he saw your lips quirking up, but the hand resting on your hip told him it was more the teasing kind of smirk. Your next words confirmed that.

“So there is something the Chief Retainer of the Kamisato Clan isn’t good at.”

Instead of being annoyed at the remark, Thoma chuckled. “There are plenty. If you haven’t found others, you just haven’t been paying enough attention.”

A sarcastic kind of laughter bubbled in your chest, but that was the one you knew best how to suppress. Instead, you wordlessly stepped back and positioned yourself behind Thoma. He craned his neck to look at you and you could see his surprise when you snaked an arm around his and enveloped the hand holding the stone in yours.

“This is the movement you want,” you told him, flicking his wrist slowly and repeatedly so that Thoma could get used to the motion. He snapped his head back forward and you could only imagine he was paying close attention to how the movement felt.

He tried to do it again, with you keeping your hand on his to correct him. You moved closer, pressing your cheek against his forearm to get a better view. Noticing how he kept angling his hand downwards, you tapped a finger against his knuckles and adjusted his hand again. Thoma tried once more.

“Good. You got it. Now try for real.”

You could feel how deeply Thoma inhaled from the movement of his back against your chest. It was almost comical how focused he seemed over something so trivial, but that also gave you a sense of validation. Who does not like being taken seriously?

Softly, he counted: one… two… three! and released the stone. Another count of one-two-three indicated how many times it skipped before the ocean claimed the stone for itself.

Thoma’s back shook again, more strongly, as an ecstatic laughter burst out of his throat. From that position, you could not see his eyes, but you could very well picture them.

“I did it! Did you see, Hitomi?”

They would be glistening with mirth, alight as the Pyro Vision hanging from his hip. That, you knew. They did that over the simplest things.

Without warning, Thoma spun on his feet to face you, almost knocking you down with the sudden movement. In an attempt to maintain your balance, your grip on Thoma’s arm tightened and you pulled it, crashing against his chest. The brightness you had seen so clearly in your mind quickly dissipated, replaced by the widening of his eyes and a blossoming redness across his face.

Even with the lack of wind, you could feel the brine in the air, a smell that you had never managed to truly hate despite the taste of loss it brought. This time, there was something else to it. A faint yet distinctive note of cedar. There was only one place it could be coming from.

You were close. Too close, if the way Thoma’s mouth opened like a fish’s, without uttering a word, was any indication. A red koi, that was what he looked like. It was hilarious. You might have laughed if your lungs had not decided to malfunction at that exact moment, retaining the air in a way that only quickened your heartbeat.

It was as you tried to regain control over your breathing that your eyes trailed to your other hand and found it clutching the sash around his waist. Just shy from the scar he had gotten from the shipwreck, if you remembered correctly. Funny, you remembered seeing that scar earlier that day-

You dropped your arms and took a step back. Two steps.

“Not bad, you learn quickly.” Your respiratory system had miraculously decided to work again, releasing the words as impassively as possible. Thoma blinked rapidly, as though trying to wrap his mind around something. With a bit of delay, he smiled.

“Well, I did have a great teacher.”

His face was still red. You had not thought Thoma would be so shy about his personal space. Normally, that would have warranted a fair amount of teasing and a note on your mental checklist of things you could take advantage of against Thoma. Now, all you could do was fill your mind with screams in your own voice not to think of the bathhouse, absolutely, under no circumstances think of the bathhouse.

“Who taught you how to do that?”

The question was a welcome distraction, and you focused on it. Truth was, you were not sure. It could have been Oton or Papa, but you had been too young for that. Possibly Baptiste. He had taken you to the lakes a lot when you were younger. It seemed like something he would do to get you to practice motor coordination.

“TIME’S UP!”

Never had you felt so relieved to hear a child screaming.

You spotted Yoimiya and Itto soon enough, both panting heavily and carrying a sizeable collection of colorful conches in their arms.

“HA! Mine is clearly bigger!”

“In your dreams, oni-boy! It’s not over until the official count. Thoma, come on!”

Thoma could not refuse such an earnest call for duty. He approached the duo, instructing them to drop the conches in separate piles, and started counting. After a few minutes of nervous anticipation, in which Genta had started to chew on his fingernails, the verdict was declared.

“Thirty-seven conches for Itto, versus thirty-six for Yoimiya. Looks like Itto wins this round.”

“WOOHOO! I KNEW IT! Arataki The Destroyer Itto smashes again!”

The cheers from the Arataki Gang were as deafening as its leader’s. Even Shinobu looked mildly impressed, though it was hard to tell with her mask. Yoimiya laughed, unbothered by the defeat, and gave Itto a playful shove.

“Don’t get so cocky, we’re tied!”

“Then bring it on, homie! Let’s move on to the last round!”

A mischievous grin spread across Yoimiya’s lips. “I have just the thing. The hot pot game.”

The proposition elicited a chorus of gasps from the Arataki Gang’s men. Even the kids, who had been too busy playing with the conches and barely acknowledged Itto’s victory, turned to Yoimiya with wide eyes.

From their reactions, you could only surmise it was something dangerous. “The what now?”

“The hot pot game!” Yoimiya repeated, eyes sparkling. “It’s the ultimate way of deciding disputes. Everyone gathers an ingredient to add to the hot pot and we put everything together. Then each person has a turn to close their eyes and pick an ingredient out of the pot. They have to eat it and guess whose ingredient it was. If your guess is right, you get a point and you can go again. The winner is whomever gets more points by the end of the meal. And the best part: anything that’s relatively edible counts as an ingredient!”

“Relatively?”

“It’s perfectly safe! And exciting!” Then, turning to Thoma, she asked, “How about we do it at Komore Teahouse? That way Taroumarou can help picking some ingredients too!”

The mention of the dog led your shoulders to involuntarily stiffen. You had not returned to Komore Teahouse ever since the encounter with the Shugosha ronin, when Taroumarou had been strangely insistent in receiving your attention. It was not an experience you would like to repeat.

“I’m pretty sure they’re full today.”

You blinked, unsure of what you had just heard. When you turned to look at Thoma, his eyes travelled from Yoimiya to the Arataki Gang to the kids, anywhere that was not you. The same way they had when he had proposed the Biwa Music Festival be held on Amakane Island instead of Ritou.

It should have angered you now, as it had before. To think that others were being made to change their plans because of you seemed dangerously close to being pitied. You had never needed that before. One of the most precious lessons Baptiste had imparted on you was that the world would not accommodate you, and you needed to make do with whatever was thrown your way. That was how you had learned to survive.

And yet, one look at Itto’s impossibly wide grin and Yoimiya’s promptness to link her arm with yours and yell “To Uyuu Restaurant then!” indicated that they were not disappointed by the change of plans. It almost did not seem to matter.

Should you really be surprised, though? Thoma was used to manipulating the terrain to make people feel at ease. It was why he was such a valuable retainer and fixer. He used that to make others drop their guards. You should not forget that. You would not.

Not when you all sat around the table on the second floor of Uyuu Restaurant and sent the kids off on a quest to find the weirdest ingredients they possibly could to test the two contestants. Not when Itto alluded to your last encounter in the restaurant and you had to intervene to prevent him from twisting the facts of the story. Or when Shinobu twisted Itto’s ear between her fingers to make him apologize to you for the events of that day, and you could not help but let out a thunderous laugh. Not when you ordered drinks around the table – soft ones for Thoma and the children – and shared stories about misadventures and escapades.

Not when you caught the bob in Thoma’s throat as he almost choked on his drink after Yoimiya told you what had happened with her latest prototypes of turtle-based fireworks (“Apparently there can be fire on water!”). Or when your eyes met and he smiled.

You did not forget who you were. But for a brief moment, you let yourself indulge in the life of Hitomi. Laughing with instead of at. Looking forward instead of over your shoulders. You knew, even though you would never admit it, that you would miss that once the job was over.

In the end, you did not remember who won the hot pot game.

Chapter Text

It was an accident, as most important discoveries were. You were supposed to be asleep. But you woke up. You were thirsty. That was the trivial reason that led you to get out of bed and make your way to your dads’ bedroom, to ask them to fetch you a glass of water. Nothing more.

You did not expect to find the bedroom light still on. You pouted and put your hands on your hips, ready to scold them for not respecting their bedtime (if you had one, they should as well). That was when you heard Papa’s voice through the door.

“I can’t simply leave her alone there!”

Something in his tone made you stop. He sounded upset. Like when a weasel had torn a page from your coloring book and tried to steal it earlier that week. You had cried and slammed your fists on the ground, which had only made you cry harder because that hurt. But Papa never cried. So how come he was upset?

“I know, I know,” Oton’s voice was lower, calmer. “I’m just saying we shouldn’t rush into this. This is a huge change. [Y/N] has never been outside of Fontaine.”

Your eyes widened at the mention of your name. Were they planning a trip? Taking you somewhere new?

“And I can’t bring Izumi here. What if she gets sick in the ship? Or during the journey across Liyue?”

“I know, that’s out of the question. It’s just-” Oton stopped talking suddenly and you heard a creaking sound. His voice came back even quieter. “We said we would never go back.”

This time it was Papa’s turn to say, “I know. But my parents have already passed. And Izumi never really agreed with them-”

“Oh, right. Silly me.”

“-she just couldn’t speak against them. Satoshi, I’m serious.” More creaking. Papa lowered his voice, and you almost had to press your ear against the door to hear. “Izumi needs us. Both of us.”

“But for how long?”

“Just a few months after the baby is born. Then, if anything, I’ll convince her to move here.”

Your mind was spinning trying to grasp everything your fathers were saying. There was a woman in trouble, this Izumi, whom you did not know. Oton didn’t want to help her, which was weird, because Oton was always telling you that you should be nice to people, even if they annoyed you. And there was a baby – but the baby was going to Inazuma? Couldn’t they just arrive in Fontaine to make it easier for Papa? But the woman was in Inazuma, apparently. Maybe the baby was for her?

Seconds trickled by unnoticed as you tried to organize your thoughts enough to question your fathers about what in the world they were talking about. Just as you gathered courage to knock on the door, a sound from the other side broke the silence. A laugh, it seemed, but it was wrong. It did not sound funny.

“I guess that’s it, then,” Oton’s voice seemed to echo through the house, reaching you as clearly as if he had been before you. “We’re moving back to Inazuma.”

He was dragging this out on purpose. Slowly sipping his drink as though you had all the time in the world, silently delighting himself on the impatient glances you would send his way. You knew you were playing his game, but it was hard not to.

“You seem anxious. Do you have somewhere else to be?” Sylvain asked, his honeyed voice stirring the bile in your stomach. For the hundredth time during your short meal, you wondered if Baptiste would mind having one of his agents lose an eye.

The morning had already flown by and you still several errands to run, ensuring everything was running smoothly for the festival and the arrival of the Mondstadtian representatives the following day. The ships from Fontaine and Liyue would come two days later, and the day after that the festival would begin with Mondstadt’s performances. Fontaine would be second, followed by Liyue and, finally, Inazuma on the final day. It was a tight schedule, and one Sylvain was well aware of.

“Don’t you?”

“Not really.” He watched his spoon swirling around the teacup as though transfixed by the small waves. Then, without warning, he tossed, “There is no merchant called Maki in Liyue Harbor.”

That was not a surprise. Maki was likely an alias. Still, you wanted confirmation. “Are we sure Bo didn’t miss anything? He doesn’t speak Liyuean.”

“Karina does and she confirmed it. Shame you didn’t get the name of the delivery ship, heh, marmotte?”

“I’m not the one stationed in Ritou. Why haven’t you kept an eye on the Yashiro Commission’s exchanges there?”

“I have other responsibilities besides babysitting you.” He took a sip of his tea and dragged his tongue across his lips. “The Croque-mitaine wants to expand our presence in Inazuma, as you know, and I am looking for reliable partners.”

It was only logical that Baptiste would not miss such an opportunity after years of isolation from the Land of Eternity. But having Sylvain make those connections was not ideal. He was too evidently a foreigner, only knew some basic formulations in Inazuman. If only you had not been otherwise engaged…”

“Not to worry, [Y/N]. I’m making the arrangements to assist you on that.”

“I would sure hope so.” You removed the strands of hair from your face so you could glare properly at Sylvain. “This job is our priority at the moment.”

“Oh, glad to see you remember that! Thought you wouldn’t, since you’ve been so engrossed in playing house.”

That was your cue to leave. You were not in the mood for rekindling that years-old discussion about your infiltration methods. Seeing as Sylvain did not attempt to stop you, he had nothing further to say either.

But, of course, he had always loved having the very last word.

“Hey, [Y/N].” You let your hand hang on the sliding door and turned your head back to Sylvain. To your surprise, his sardonic smirk was no longer in place. Instead, his expression was hard. “I’m serious about that housekeeper. Find a way to get rid of him.”

You rolled your eyes. “Working on it.”

There were plenty of things that should have occupied a dutiful retainer’s thoughts on the way to Ritou the next morning. Last-minute difficulties that could happen at the hotel, whether the guests would appreciate the welcome kits – a basket with tricolor dango, a kitsune miniature and a sakura blossom pin –, whether you had forgotten to account for any food restrictions or allergies.

You were too anxious to play that role that day. You barely hummed in response while Ayaka went over your checklist for the tenth time, making sure nothing had been forgotten as you approached the Ritou harbor. It wasn’t that the meeting with Sylvain the day prior had rattled you that much, but the succession of events afterwards had left his words ringing in your mind. All because Thoma had not joined you in Ritou.

When inquired, Ayaka had simply said that she had asked Thoma to run other errands around the island. As if that lie had not been weak enough, soon after Ayaka had informed that you would need you to show the guests to their lodgings alone, as Ayaka would be entangled in a meeting with one of the newcomers. A representative of the Knights of Favonius sent to discuss ways to improve cooperation between Mondstadt and Inazuma now that the Sakoku Decree was no more – which explained why they were arriving earlier than the other performers.

Honestly, the lengths Thoma was going to avoid contact with the Knights was bordering ridicule. And it only made you more certain that figuring out why was key to the smooth development of your job.

That was the only thing on your mind as you and Ayaka watched a ship with the unmistakable windmill flag dock at the harbor. And the unmistakable cries of relief of someone who had been at sea for longer than they could handle.

“LAND! FINALLY!”

A man with light brown hair dressed in a green suit rushed down the ramp of the ship as if chased by a hoard of Hilichurls, desperate to touch solid ground. His wish almost came true in a roundabout way when he tripped at the end of the ramp, gravity sending his face to an unpleasant encounter with the wooden wharf. He was saved at the last second by a gust of wind that appeared suddenly lifted him back to his feet. It could almost have looked like a blessing of the Anemo Archon if it weren’t for the other green-clad figure sitting at the brim of the ship with a turquoise Vision sparkling at his hip.

“Careful there, especially with the face! You don’t want to get it hurt right before you play.”

With a mischievous giggle, he jumped from the ship and allowed a small whirlwind to carry him safely to the wharf. The first bard put a hand over his heart, taking in quick breaths that were probably not helping him calm down.

“Thanks for the save, Venti.”

The man, Venti, only giggled again in response. There was a youthfulness to the gleam in his eyes, a lightness to his movements, and you were certain that you had never seen someone who looked so stereotypically from the Nation of Freedom. Even his hair style, two braids falling past each of his shoulders, mimicked the one Barbatos was usually depicted with in his statues. A tasteless choice but that, somehow, suited the bard.

Venti then turned his eyes to the two of you and bowed with a flourish.

“Why, hello, Miss Kamisato! What a pleasure it is that we once again meet! As soon as I got your invitation, I knew I must set sail to Inazuma in a heartbeat.”

The smile Ayaka gave in return was tinged with more warmth and familiarity than you had expected. “The pleasure is all mine, Venti. I am glad that I finally should get to see you play. And you two, José. The Yashiro Commission thanks both of you for accepting our invitation.”

Following the cue, both Ayaka and you gave the bards a quick bow. The other man – Six-Fingered José, according to the list You had – returned as well as he could, considering his sea legs.

“I hope I am not too late for the greetings and expressions of gratitude.”

The voice was accompanied by a soft tap of heels on wood, almost as light as Venti’s. A man with dark blue hair and tan skin stepped onto the wharf, a smile playing at his lips in such a relaxed manner that it could have seemed harmless were it not for the strange twinkle in his eye. He had changed his eyepatch to a fancier one, you noticed. Then again, he had changed a lot of things since the last time you had seen him slumped over the table of a tavern in Mondstadt, drunk and downright miserable.

“Miss Kamisato, it is indeed an honor to make your acquaintance, especially considering how highly our common friend has spoken of you. I am Kaeya Alberich, Cavalry Captain of the Knights of Favonius, at your service,” he finished with a bow.

Ayaka kept the fan open a moment longer than necessary. Only because you knew her well enough were you able to discern the self-consciousness and glee fighting to show in Ayaka’s expression, quickly subdued as the lady’s mask of politeness slipped into place. You wondered if it had anything to do with the mention of that “common friend” and added the matter to your snooping list.

“Captain Alberich, the honor is all mine. I hope your voyage was safe and smooth.”

“Please, Miss Kamisato, only Kaeya will do. As you may know, Mondstadters are not used to being treated with such deference.”

“Still, you are our esteemed guest and I would be remiss to treat you as anything other than that,” Ayaka countered, deftly evading any break of Inazuman protocol. Her eyes then traveled to you. “This is Shigurai Hitomi, a retainer of the Kamisato Clan and one who has been most helpful in making the Biwa Music Festival possible.”

“It is an honor and a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Please, I hope you accept these welcome gifts.”

You had practiced the little speech many times until it could be delivered in a perfectly smooth flow, as expected of any retainer for the Kamisatos. Though Ayaka had never pressured you, you knew that moment was important for the youngest Kamisato, the first time she had organized a festival of that scale without intervention from her brother. And if Ayaka was determined to make it perfect, so were you.

“Awn, this is adorable!” José cooed, twirling the miniature kitsune around his fingers. Venti, on the other hand, seemed transfixed with the tricolor dango.

Kaeya took his basket and examined its contents with appreciative hums and polite ‘thank you’s. Still, it was all very protocolar. You could see that from the way Kaeya’s eye hovered over you a moment too long. You would have been worried had it not been for the thoroughness of your disguise – it had been years since Mondstadt, where you had had another name, another hair, other mannerisms. No, Kaeya would not recognize you.

“This is very generous, Miss Kamisato and Hitomi.” His voice was sweet as honey, and just as viscous too. Definitely something he had taken up after your departure. “I hope I am not being discourteous, but I was expecting to see another one of the Kamisato retainers here. A denizen of mine, I believe?”

So it was about that.

“Yes, Thoma,” Ayaka did not seem at all fazed by the introduction of the topic. She had clearly prepared for that. “I am afraid he is sorting out other matters. The days preceding a festival are always the busiest ones… I am sure that you will have time to meet, though, if you wish.”

“Why, of course. A shame that he could not make it today, however. I have a letter from the Acting Grand Master that I need to get to him as soon as possible.”

You calculated the seconds. Enough to sound helpful, but not too eager. You addressed Ayaka instead of Kaeya.

“Milady, if it suits you, I can take it to him. I should be meeting him soon in any event.”

A perfect delivery, if Ayaka’s smile was anything to go by. “Would that suit you as well, Captain Alberich?”

“Absolutely. You have my thanks, Hitomi.”

Kaeya pulled an envelope out of his coat pocket. Like the one Thoma had received weeks prior, the emblem of the Knights of Favonius was stamped on the front.

“The Yashiro Commission has booked rooms for you at the Tsukino Hotel, here in Ritou. Would you like to rest there a bit first?” Ayaka proposed, and was quickly met with head shakes from the three Mondstadters.

“We had plenty of time to rest on the ship. Right now, what would make this bard happy is a sip of a drink!”

It was hard for you to keep a straight face as Venti winked, but you managed. If that guy’s goal was to be a walking stereotype of Mondstadt, he was doing a wonderful job. It was not even noon yet. You could not help but wonder how Thoma would feel about it.

“As much as I would love to join you for that, I believe Miss Kamisato and I have some official matters to discuss, and that requires my sobriety.”

“We can reschedule if you would like, Captain Alberich,” conceded Ayaka, ever so mindful.

“No need. I am eager to hear the Yashiro Commission’s views on the proposals of the Acting Grandmaster.”

With your itineraries settled, Ayaka and Kaeya left for a teahouse while you were tasked with providing the two bards with food – and drinks – before escorting them to the hotel.

You soon learned that Venti was already familiar with Ritou, having travelled there during the Iridori Festival. Despite that, he seemed content to follow you around, listening along with José as you pointed to the different areas of the city, their main attractions, and useful tips for getting around. Not opening an omamori was the first one.

You stopped at a small restaurant near Tsukino Hotel, where you could sit by a counter while the bards drank. Then you could drop them off at the hotel and focus on the important business sitting inside your pocket.

The timing was good; the weather was starting to turn, with grayish clouds gathering over the island. You ordered a portion of takoyaki, two cups of sake for the bards and water for yourself.

“Oh, how much I’ve missed this,” Venti hummed, eyes sparkling as the waiter poured the sake into his cup.

“Careful, Venti, or Master Diluc will feel betrayed,” José chuckled, though he eyed his own cup with just as much interest.

“On the contrary, my friend. The day I stopped drinking his wine would be the day his headaches would end. Sadly for him, that day’s not coming so soon. Kanpai!”

The bards clinked their cups together and downed the liquid in one go. To your surprise, and perhaps reluctant admiration, they hardly coughed.

“Wow, you were right. This is good…” José mused, licking his lips. “Say, Hitomi, I was also hoping to do some sightseeing around Inazuma City before the festival begins. Is it too far from here?”

“Not at all, only a couple of hours’ walk. Though I suggest not going without an escort. The roads may be dangerous for those who do not know them. I can find someone for you, if you want.”

“That would be great! Join me, Venti? It would be useful to hit the road with a Vision holder, huh?”

The suggestion elicited a snicker from the shorter bard. “You are under the mistaken assumption that I can fight. Ask anyone: when a Hilichurl pops up, my first instinct is to hide.”

A fair share of Vision wielders around Teyvat had never bothered to learn how to use their mastery over elements to fight, even in self-defense. That had always seemed a waste to you. Then again, bards as popular as Venti probably did not often get into situations that would require him to have combat skills. You wondered if Xinyan was the same; she had a Pyro Vision after all.

“Instead, I prefer to use the wind…” He threw his cape aside and revealed a lyre. “To entertain my gracious hosts with! Tell me, Hitomi, what kind of music do you like?”

Certainly none that he could play. The rhyming was starting to get on your nerves.

“Wouldn’t it be best to save your performance for the festival?” you asked. “Otherwise, you’ll ruin the surprise.”

“Ah, but I am full of surprises! One little song won’t spoil them!” You were not convinced, and neither was José, who kept making not so subtle gestures for Venti to stop. The smaller bard plucked the strings gingerly, ignoring you both. “Come on. What kind of song is in your heart?”

You repressed a sigh, realizing that acquiescing could be the quickest way to get the meal over with and get back to your priorities.

“Anything would be great, really.”

“I don’t know that one. Which, believe me, is very rare.”

“Then… Something uplifting, I guess.”

Venti paused his thrumming abruptly and frowned at you. He looked bothered and you feared you might have offended him. But Venti said nothing, only continued to scrutinize your face as if searching for something.

“Really, just… Whatever you want,” you repeated, shifting uncomfortably on the stool. Venti stared at you for a couple of seconds longer before his brow softened. He offered you a smile, but it did not take much to see that it was not nearly as bright as the ones he had sported so far.

“I think I’ve got it.”

He adjusted his position on the stool and placed his fingers over the strings.

The melody that flowed was light, almost shy. Acute in tone, slow in tempo. It reminded you of the dew hesitantly dripping from grass blades just before sunrise. The climate in Inazuma didn’t allow for dew to gather that much. No, the last time you had seen that kind of thing…

It had been in Petrichor. Clinging to Oton as he left for his boat, begging him to come back quickly so you could play together.

You squeezed your eyes shut and shook your head. There was no reason to be thinking about that. You opened them again to find that Venti had closed his. His lips were parted, but no sound left them. He seemed to be channeling everything into the lyre instead, ensuring there would be no gaps in the air immune to his music. You swore you could feel it in your breathing.

The pace quickened, but the notes remained soft. They wrapped over you like a blanket, a strange warmth rising from your toes to your chest. It felt ticklish.

Papa had always enjoyed tickling you, and you had hated it. You would burn the entire world if it allowed you to feel his hands again.

That line of thought would usually be followed by anger, searing your insides and urging you to make the outside feel just as much pain. But before it could take hold of you, something tugged at your heartstrings and fell. Down, down, into your stomach and then a pit you had no idea where it had come from.

The warmth started to fade and your shoulders tensed, prepared to face the piercing cold. It never came. There was still something there – not warm, not quite, but enough to prevent the chill from taking over. You could hear voices and, for the first time in years, they were not screaming.

Venti opened his eyes and his gaze bore into your own.

“T-that was beautiful, Venti.”

José’s words were the rope that pulled you back to the ground and to the awareness that Venti had stopped playing. In a flash, the usual light was back to his smile.

“Why, thank you, José! I wish we had time for one more, but it seems like the rain is already at our door.”

He was right. From beyond the tarp that protected the counter, insistent drops had begun to fall. Somehow, it seemed that one had caught your cheek. You wiped it away.

Thankfully, the rain was not heavy enough to soak you as you rushed to the hotel. You gave the necessary information to the receptionist, who confirmed that the rooms prepared for the Mondstadters were ready. He gave Venti and José their respective keys and beckoned another attendant to show them the way.

“This is it, then. If you need anything, please do not hesitate to reach out. I hope you enjoy your stay in Inazuma.”

You recited the words in a chipper tone that was far from how you felt. José quickly thanked you and followed the attendant down the hall. Venti, however, stayed. His lips were quirked up, but once again they lacked the excitement he had shown earlier. You crossed your arms over your chest.

“Can I help you with anything else, Venti?”

He hummed, considering the question for a moment. A different gleam came to his eyes, something that made him seem older than you were certain he was.

“Child of the water, do not drown in your sorrow.”

The words were spoken softly enough for no one else to hear, but they still felt deafening. You hesitated, processing, and that was the opportunity Venti needed to slip his cheery mask back on, give an extremely performative bow, and trail down after José.

Child of the water, he had called you. But you had not mentioned Fontaine to him. Neither had Ayaka.

You groaned. Now you had to worry about that bard’s possibly being a spy. All you needed.

You ran a hand over your face and willed your lips upwards again as you approached the reception. It would be best to do that at the Estate, but the rain did not look like it was going to let up soon and you needed something to get your mind back on track.

“Would you happen to have a more private room I could use for a moment? I need to write a note to another retainer about some unfinished preparations for the festival.”

The receptionist nodded ever so helpfully and took you to a room in the back with a small desk, a candle and some writing materials. As soon as the door closed, you took the letter addressed to Thoma from your pocket. To your relief, it was still dry.

You sat at the desk and started inspecting the envelope. Thoma’s name was written on the back in elegant penmanship in the Common alphabet. The problem was the front. It was sealed with a wax stamp. You had worked with enough of those to know that they were extremely hard to undo in a way that did not look like the envelope had been tampered with. But not impossible.

As expected, you found a letter opener in one of the desk’s drawers and matches in another. You lit up the candle and held the letter opener close to it, heating up the metal end. A bigger fire would have been ideal, but you could not lament about the things you did not have.

Minutes passed until you deemed it hot enough. You then brought the letter opener close to the seal and carefully started to scrape the bottom. The heated blade melted the wax slightly, allowing the seal to come off without breaking. You held your breath until the very last edge had been lifted off safely.

There it was. Open and in your hands.

The first thing you noticed about the letter was that it was written in Common, as though the Knights had not wanted to presume that, after spending half of his life in Inazuma, Thoma was still fluent in Mondstadtian. When you thought about it, you were not sure he was.

The wind picked up outside, howls reaching your ears. You ignored them. Instead, you focused on your own voice in your mind, reading the letter.

Dear Thoma,

I hope you have been well. I apologize for the insistent letters, but I am afraid I need to ask for a more direct confirmation.

You mentioned in your last letter that you had not yet gone over the will. The time limit stipulated by Judge Weber will end within three months. Under the Favonius Codex, if you do not provide a timely response, I am afraid the entirety of the estate will be reverted to the public administration, without your having the chance to decide whether or not there is something you would like to keep.

As I have mentioned previously, you do not have to come in person to Mondstadt should that be a problem. You can appoint any Mondstadtian citizen to represent you during the proceedings. If you do not have anyone in mind, you can appoint someone from the Knights of Favonius or ask the Knights to provide you a list of available legal advisors.

Thoma, it is not my intention to belittle your grief, nor to pretend to know it. However, it has been six months since we’ve informed you of your mother’s passing-

The voice halted immediately, filling your ears with the pressure of silence. Even as you read those last words again and again, hovering the letters without quite grasping their meaning, it was soundless.

Eventually, your brain managed to make sense of the words again.

-it has been six months since we’ve informed you of your mother’s passing and I am afraid that, if you do not confront it soon, you might miss an opportunity.

Remember, Mondstadt will always be here to assist you.

Let the wind lead.

Jean Gunnhildr

Acting Grandmaster of the Knights of Favonius

As soon as you reached the end, your eyes flew back to that line. -it has been six months since we’ve informed you of your mother’s passing. It remained unchanged.

The weight of the paper suddenly seemed too much, inversely proportional to how softly it rustled against the floor after it slipped from your hand.

The bags under his eyes. Ayaka’s insistence that he took better care of himself. The avoidance. Little pieces of the puzzle whose solution you should have considered from the start.

Six months not of her death, but of Thoma’s awareness of it. There was something deliberate about that wording. She had probably been dead for longer.

Six months was just before you had left for Inazuma. Around the time Baptiste told you the Takatsukasas had ensured an opening within the Kamisato household. They must have found out about the news and planted the idea of hiring a new retainer in Ayaka’s mind.

Six months were nothing in comparison to the twelve years he had not seen her, stuck in Inazuma. Nor compared to the entire life of absence ahead of him.

Six months. It had taken you much longer to come to terms with your fathers’ death. If you had at all.

Yours hands trembled as you settled your face between them, as if the weight of the discovery weighed it down. How had Thoma even managed to smile after that? Pretend like nothing had happened. Perhaps the distance made it easier. No wonder he had not wanted to go back to Mondstadt.

That was what you had to take advantage of, then. Grief. How fitting.

Disgusting.

A knock sounded from behind the door and your body jolted.

“Miss Hitomi?” the receptionist hesitantly opened the door and peered inside. “Sorry to bother you, but there are some things I need to pick up here. If you are not quite done, you can stay longer…”

The sound of the rain had stopped. You had dallied there for too long.

“No need, I was on my way out anyway. Thank you.”

There was no time to close the envelope, not without looking suspicious. You could do that later.

A grayish filter had settled over the city, courtesy of the heavy clouds that lingered despite the fact that it rained no longer. The few people still on the street stole anxious glances at the sky from time to time. Better to move quickly. Back to the Estate. Thoma was probably there.

You did not want to face him.

Acutely aware that you were only delaying the inevitable, you took the longest way out of the city, meandering across smaller streets and alleys. At some point, your mind stopped paying attention and let your feet roam free. Something nagged at the back of your mind, a slowly simmering anger and hungry curiosity. You knew what it was, though you tried to pretend otherwise.

You were back.

The house was smaller than you remembered, but then again everything seemed astoundingly big when one was a kid. The maple tree was still in the yard, ensuring the roof would remain red no matter what color of paint the occupants chose. And then there was the door, dark brown and unassuming.

You were close enough to see that your bloodstains were not there anymore, eaten by time or perhaps a new layer of paint. Your hand flew to the tip of the nose before you could help it. Though physicians in Fontaine had not identified a fracture, you were sure that it had never been the same after that slam.

Sounds came from the inside, clattering metal, footsteps. More than one person.

It could be anyone. Aunt Izumi had probably moved away a long time ago. Or maybe even died. But what if it was her? The other person could be the cousin you had never met. They should be a teenager by now, assuming they had survived. Or maybe Aunt Izumi had kicked them out as well.

“Hitomi?”

You bristled at the voice. Your hand instinctively reached out for one of your knives, and it was pure luck that your mind regained some clarity before you actually pulled it out.

“Man alive, are you always this jumpy? I had always pegged you as someone attentive to your surroundings.”

You were. Usually.

You immediately dropped your hands and evened your breathing, even though the sight of Heizou was anything but tranquilizing.

“Doushin Shikanoin.” You thanked whichever Archon allowed your voice to come out steady. “Anything I can help you with?”

“I should be the one asking that.” The playful lilt of his voice contrasted with the sharpness of his gaze. He pointed his chin towards the house. “Are you visiting someone there?”

“No.” Realizing you had spoken too quickly, you forced yourself to pause by letting out a sigh. “I was actually looking for an artisan who is preparing some souvenirs for the Biwa Festival. Someone gave me directions to his shop, but apparently they were wrong.”

“I see… If it is someone I know, maybe I can help you get to him.”

“Mamoru Benjiro.” One of the most convenient things about the festival was that you truly had ended up meeting a significant array of merchants and artisans. Benjiro did not have any outstanding business with the Yashiro Commission at the moment, but if Heizou insisted on taking you to him, you could make something up on the spot. Thankfully, it did not come to that.

“Uhm… No, never heard of him. Sorry I can’t be of more help, but you should find him if you ask around a bit more.”

“I will. Thank you.”

“Heh, any time. And… Hitomi?” Heizou tilted his head at you, his smile becoming more of a smirk with each passing second. “If you are going to space out, maybe don’t carry your knife around. You might cause an accident and I would hate to have to arrest you.”

The distance between the Kamisato Estate and Ritou was usually a blessing. Not enough to be physically exhausting, but plenty to allow one to muse about whatever problems they faced and find somewhat of a way forward.

That walk had never felt so short. Before you knew it, you were at the Estate’s gates. And the tightness in your stomach would not go away.

You greeted the samurai with a nod and stepped inside. The grass was still wet, indicating that the rain had reached there as well. A series of muddy footprints trailed back and forth around it and even on the wooden floor, stopping at two boxes. Just as you finished processing the sight, Thoma’s voice called out to you.

“Hitomi, you’re back!”

He was holding a box so large that it almost obscured his face.

“Could you help me out with this a bit? It’s the flags we ordered for tomorrow. They put the boxes by the entrance, but I’m afraid it might rain again and ruin them.”

It was not like you had a good excuse not to.

The amount of boxes was ridiculous, but then again, the flags were supposed to be hung all over Narukami. You and Thoma grabbed one each.

“Be careful, alright? The ground is slippery.”

You nodded absent-mindedly, following Thoma into the building. With every step, the knot inside of you grew tighter. Sylvain’s voice drilled into your mind, stern and impatient. Get rid of him.

You had to say something. To take advantage of what you had learned.

“The bards from Mondstadt seemed nice.”

“That’s great!” Thoma chirped, laying down his box. “Six-Fingered José and Venti, right? I’m not familiar with their work, but I’m eager to.”

“The Cavalry Captain of the Knight of Favonius was there too.”

His shoulders tensed. Just for a second, and then it was gone. His voice was light and carefree as you went back to pick up more boxes.

“Yes, milady mentioned she would have a meeting with him.”

“Do you know him? Kaeya Alberich.”

“I… Might… I’m pretty sure I remember someone my age with a similar name, but his surname was different.”

Thoma quickened his pace. You were not sure he himself noticed.

“Quite a few things must have changed since you were there last.” You placed another box on top of the one Thoma had carried. “And many are probably still the same. You should go back and visit sometime.”

The edges of his lips tugged upwards in his attempt at a smile. It looked uncomfortable. “Trying to get rid of me, Hitomi?”

“I said visit, not move.” You grunted, adjusting a new box in your grip. “It could be good to reconnect. Don’t tell me you’ve never thought about it.”

“Of course I did,” he replied quickly and then fell silent as if regretting his words. He strode past you, avoiding your gaze. “But I am needed here.”

“You’re not the only retainer around here, you know. I’m sure Furuta could manage. And maybe I would help her too.” Joke. Keep it light, casual. You knew how to make it seem natural.

“I’m not saying you can’t!” he chuckled, sliding another box into his arms. “But I still have a commitment to the Kamisatos.”

You rolled your eyes. “Thoma, it is not disloyal of you to go on vacation. Maybe…” you wetted your lips, pondering your next words. They felt heavy on your tongue, like they did not want to come out. But out they came. “Maybe you should think of the things you need too.”

He bristled again, stopping on his tracks. His back was turned to you, and you feared you had overdone it. Anxiety led you to move faster, carelessly. Your foot caught on a particularly wet patch of grass and slipped.

As balance left you, you had half the mind to shove the box aside so it would not fall on top on you. Even so, you could not prevent your back from hitting the ground. You squeezed your eyes shut, pain radiating across your body, and barely registered the sound of another box being dropped and hurried steps in your direction.

“Hitomi! Hey, Hitomi, are you okay?”

You felt a touch to your shoulder. Your eyes fluttered open to find Thoma kneeling beside you.

“Embarrassed, but alive,” you groaned, easing the concern in Thoma’s gaze. You started to sit up and Thoma was quick to slide his hand down your back for support.

You reached out a hand to massage the back of your head and grimaced at the feeling of the mud sticking to your hair. From the corner of your eye, you caught Thoma crouching down lower, reaching for something on the ground.

“You dropped thi-”

He froze, and you knew why before even looking.

Thoma’s fingers trembled as they picked up the now muddy envelope with the Knights of Favonius’ stamp. He turned it around, confirming his name as the recipient. Your mind raced, desperate to make use of the few seconds of silence to salvage the situation, say something before he could. But all your thoughts turned blank when you met Thoma’s gaze.

“Why do you have this?” His voice was tight, as if he had forced the question out against his will.

That was a truth you could answer. “The Cavalry Captain gave it to me so I could pass it on to you.”

“And why is it open?”

You did not have enough time to come up with an acceptable response. Perhaps there was none.

“Thoma, I’m sorry.”

“You read it.” It was not a question.

“I’m sorry.”

The look in Thoma’s eyes was like nothing you had seen before. You thought you had understood what his anger looked like back in Ritou, a simmering pot waiting to boil over. But it looked different this time. Colder, blunted by disbelief and hurt.

You realized too late it was a look of betrayal.

“I’m sorry,” you repeated for the third time, struggling with your words. “I knew something was wrong, but you wouldn’t tell me-”

“That does not give you a right to go through my personal mail.”

“No, of course not,” you agreed quickly, eyes widening. “But I was worried, I wanted to help- Thoma, I’m so sorry about your mom.”

Thoma straightened his back, stiff as a plank. A myriad of emotions danced around his eyes, fighting for control. Before you could discern which one had won, he stood up and turned his face away from you.

“I have to fix dinner. Please finish up with the boxes.”

You opened your mouth to call out for him, but no sound came out. You knew you could not let him leave like that. In just one instant of carelessness, you had ruined the trust you had painstakingly build since your arrival. You could not let the entire operation crumble like that, foil Baptiste’s careful planning.

Another voice screamed, louder than the others. You could not bear to see Thoma hurting like that.

In the end, all you did was watch in silence as his back disappeared across the door frame. You  remained sat on the grass, a toppled box by your side and a chill where Thoma’s hand no longer supported you.

Chapter Text

The Court of Fontaine was never truly quiet. Even in the dead of night, something was always happening. Someone was getting drunk, another decided to recite a monologue from a play – or the latest trial perhaps –, a gardemek patrolled around with heavy steps. It was impossible to find silence. The trick was to focus on which sounds mattered.

Like the feather-light footsteps on the concrete rooftop.

You groaned, bending backwards over the edge of the short wall. Your head almost touched the floor. “What do you want?”

The gangly figure before you masked his surprise a second too late. It sent a rush of smug satisfaction over your head. Sylvain still had a long way to go if he intended to sneak up on you. He had a hand behind his back, holding something you could not see from that position.

Twisting his face into a scowl, he asked, “You’re still in a mood?”

“This is my everyday mood. Don’t like it, leave.”

“I should.” He let out a theatrical sigh. “I know you probably don’t want any trouble. So I’ll just go somewhere else…”

Sylvain turned around slowly, revealing the item behind his back. The chuckle that came to you was so sudden you almost choked.

“Elke is going to strangle you.”

“Who said I got this from her?” Sylvain turned to face her again, twirling the neck of the bottle of dandelion wine around his fingers. “I could have just gotten it at the market with my honest Mora.”

“You’re underage.”

“I look older.”

“Than 10, maybe.”

“I take it that you don’t want it then, if you’re being such a brat.”

In one swift move, you planted your palms on the floor and swung your legs up, momentum and muscle working together to allow you to land on your feet, back straightened. You spun around, facing Sylvain, but he had already expected that and moved the bottle away from your reach.

“Tell me the magic words.”

“You suck.”

The quirk of an eyebrow was all the warning you got before Sylvain put the bottle to his lips and chugged down the wine. It was good that you were well away from the gardes’ view; there were laws against such lack of etiquette in Fontaine.

“Noooo, come on! Please, let me have some!”

“I’m waiting, marmotte.”

You chewed the inside of your cheek, fighting back a groan. It was a ritual, almost. You both knew how it ended, yet followed every step to the letter, never daring to skip a single one. There was comfort in predictability.

“Please, Sylvain Deleau, Master of Stealth, Incredible Sharpshooter, allow me to partake in your wine tonight or I will spread glue on your bed.”

“You were doing so well, you just had to ruin the ending.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

He lowered the bottle just enough for you to grab it, which you did in a flash. The wine slid down your throat, slow and thick, almost as if it knew that it should not be going there. The acrid taste made you want to close your mouth immediately, but you kept it open, kept downing the liquid until your mouth was full and you had to puff your cheeks before swallowing. You knew the fuzzy feeling that would come soon and compensate the unpleasant sensation. It was not the first time you craved it.

You passed the bottle back and forth a few more times, until the grimaces on your faces were replaced by loose smiles and your fingers seemed to dance in the air with every movement. Only a few unattainable drops remained.

“So,” Sylvain spun the bottle around his fingers, stare lost among the city’s buildings. He spoke pausedly, and you knew it was to avoid slurring. “Is your tongue loose enough to tell me why you’re so prickly today?”

It was just like him to ruin the mood with an unpleasant question. You could flip him off and be done with the subject. You should.

But there was a warmth that draped over your shoulders and a cloudiness in your head that mirrored the sky with the hidden moon over you. And your mouth, it seemed, was disconnected from the rest of your body.

“Do you ever think about your parents?”

The edges of Sylvain’s lips, lazily quirked up, suddenly tensed. Though they stayed up, the expression they formed could no longer be called a smile. You immediately realized your mistake.

Sylvain had climbed his way out of the Fleuve Cendre with blood on his hands and his parents’ shouts at his back. Sinthe addicts, he had told you once. Sometimes they would choose to spend Mora on the drug rather than on food for him. Sometimes they would not remember who he was.

“So that’s what your mood is about? Thinking about Papa and Tonton?”

The sharpness of his tone seemed to cut across your spine. Instinctively, you corrected, “Oton.”

He did not acknowledge the remark. “Tell you what, marmotte.” Sylvain bared his teeth at you as one would a knife. “Nobody cares about your sob story. Everyone’s got their own.”

Once, when you were teenagers and desperate for praise, Sylvain had said that going undercover was just like being an actor in a play. Instead of the pat on the head he had been hoping for, Baptiste had sent him a sneer that had you giggling for weeks. You had savored that as if it were a small victory of your own and etched his words into your brain like divine wisdom. A play has a set duration and a script. Once the actor leaves the stage, the character disappears. The actor is allowed precious minutes of respite before the next scene, before the next play. Time to recharge, to remember who they are and then change back into who they are meant to be. An actor could not do what you did.

An infiltration meant putting different souls into one body. Installing a switch that was ready to flip on and off without warning but always, always at the right time. A long-term assignment was a commitment to a new life – one could tell when it began but never foresee when it would end. And, like any life, it required navigating through unscripted bumps and twists. Captivating an audience was not required; foes were a part of life as much as friends were. All that mattered was that the external spectators saw only that: one whole life.

Now, more than ever, you could say you had become a master at crafting lives. Despite the accident – that was what you were calling it; not a fight, not a fuck up, not a betrayal –, Thoma did not seem to harbor suspicions that you were anyone other than Shigurai Hitomi. Sarcastic, impatient, and prone to mistakes, but just Shigurai Hitomi. A retainer with a difficult past and no ulterior motives that could harm the Kamisato Clan.

He had not confronted you again about the letter. He had not even told the Kamisatos about it; Ayaka continued to treat you with the same warmth as before and ask for your assistance with the festival, while Ayato, in the brief encounter you had had with him while serving breakfast, had given you little more than a polite greeting. If they had known, they certainly would have called you to explain yourself. Or downright kill you. But alas, your routine remained unchanged, your freedom of movement in and outside of the Kamisato Estate uncompromised.

Only Thoma would not look at you. He could not avoid talking to you, not when the festival was so close and there was so much to prepare, but now the conversations were short and clipped. He would turn his back to you and start washing the dishes when asking you go to go the city talk to a supplier, gaze upon a piece of paper that you were sure had nothing written on when inquiring whether Yoimiya’s fireworks were ready.

Two days. Not a glance.

It was the best of both worlds, truly. For months, you had been wishing to escape Thoma’s scrutinizing gaze. In an unexpected and roundabout way, you had succeeded. Everything was working out for the best.

Which is why you did not understand where the frustration clawing at your chest came from.

“I already said I’m sorry.”

The knife halted above the wooden cutting board. You could see the light red liquid from the tomatoes threatening to drip from the corner. For a moment, you thought Thoma would turn around, even if only to tell you off. That he would at least glare at you and the anger in his peridot eyes would be the picture accompanying you as you welcomed the Fontainian delegation in Ritou that morning.

He did not.

“You should leave soon, otherwise you risk being late.”

The chopping resumed, and you were left to wonder what Thoma’s eyes had looked like.

Even if the storm around the Inazuman islands had subsided, the sea was as unpredictable as ever. The ship carrying the artists from Liyue had been delayed and was expected to arrive only the day before their performances, to Ayaka’s mounting anxiety. You would possibly have to switch and have the Inazuman musicians perform first, even if that would diminish the grand finale. Still, at least the ship from Fontaine had arrived.

Gigi Gassion and the A Pirate’s Heart group were thrilled to be welcomed by someone who had lived in Fontaine and who could point them to the nearest decent coffee supplier. You repeated the tour you had given Venti and Six-Fingered José, minus the pause for sake. The Fontainians absorbed the town around them with gleaming wide eyes and more than once stopped to take pictures with a kamera. This would have usually elicited awkward stares from the locals but, with so the influx of tourists joining the festival, and the Mora they were bringing, the population of Ritou seemed more than happy to ignore the outlanders’ overenthusiasm. A few merchants tried to draw the group to their shops, shouting ridiculously overpriced amounts for their goods until they noticed your glare and promptly stopped. A couple of children waved and pointed at Gigi, fascinated by their unusually long golden locks, and you caught sight of a third, shier one scurrying to hide behind a stall.

Tsukino Hotel soon came into view and you were more than relieved to drop off the Fontainians. You still had errands to run in Inazuma City that day; Ayaka was busy again with the Cavalry Captain, and this time Ayato was joining their discussion. That was probably an auspicious sign for the Yashiro Commission, and you would have been delighted to pry had you not other priorities.

A child was poking an onikabuto by near the hotel door when you exited. You gave your arms a quick stretch and started moving, taking one of the less crowded side streets leading to the outskirts of Ritou. You hummed to yourself – an upbeat melody from the Fontainian group My Alchemical Love Story. Then, you made a sharp turn right, into an alley.

It had the intended effect. The sound of footsteps, imperceptible before, now rang lightly if one knew to look for it. And you did.

As soon as the head peeked into the alley, you grabbed the child by the collar and pulled her close. The girl’s eyes blew wide as she tried to register what was happening, but, before she could react, you were crouching down before her.

“How in the world are you here? Does the Croque-mitaine know?”

Anaïs grimaced as though someone had yelled inside her ears, even though you had exerted a surprising amount of control to keep your voice a whisper. As soon as the girl’s brain caught up with the situation, her expression twisted into one of righteous indignation.

“Of course he does! He sent me here to help you and Sylvain!”

“You are the assistance he was talking about?”

Hurt shot across Anaïs eyes, mistaking the anger in your voice for disappointment. All traces of her previous bravado dissipated and even her voice seemed to struggle to come out.

“I can h-help. I’ve been studying Inazuman. I’ve been practicing. The Croque-mitaine thinks I-I’m ready.”

Of course he did. Baptiste was rarely ever wrong about those kinds of things. That did not ease the pang in your chest though. You let go of Anaïs’s shirt, only then realizing how tightly you had been holding it, and ran a hand to smooth the crinkles. You considered asking about Bo, but that would be redundant. If he were there, he would have shown up already. He would never have let Anaïs be dragged into an alley alone, even by you.

“And your first task was to tail me?”

“N-no! I wanted to surprise you!”

You raised your head, finally allowing yourself to take a good look at Anaïs. Her curly light brown hair was nowhere in sight, replaced by pitch-black locks tied into low pigtails. A wig, certainly – it was easier to maintain than dying and straightening her hair. Her nose and eyes had been sharpened with make-up and, though the work was not great, it was enough for Anaïs to pass for a half-Inazuman child to anyone who did not look at her close enough, and adults hardly ever did. Sylvain was probably going to be helping her with the disguise each day.

“Did you know it was me?”

“Yep.”

“How?” The gutted look on Anaïs’s face almost made you laugh. You had probably worn that same expression the many times Baptiste had caught you trying to sneak up on him. Until the day you finally did. And the rest was history.

“You were doing well. But staying so close to the hotel was an unnecessary risk. Besides…” you stuck your tongue out and moved your fingers to pinch Anaïs’s cheek. “I’m the one who taught you all that. You really thought I would fall for my own tricks?”

The girl pouted and tried to swat your hand away, only to find herself enveloped into a hug. You had expected Anaïs to resist at first, as a matter of principle, and was surprised when the girl promptly hugged you back. She must have been missing Boniface.

“Do you know where to find Sylvain?” you asked, dropping your arms. Anaïs nodded.

“He gave me directions. I’m supposed to be watching the harbor, mostly, but the Croque-mitaine told me to help Sylvain with whatever he needs.”

“Tell him I’ll break his teeth if he overworks you.”

That pulled a smile out of Anaïs. The girl scratched the back of her head a little too hard, displacing the wig. Your hands moved to fix it, deciding to remove the wig to then make sure it would be well put back. Instead of the net you expected to see around Anaïs’s hair to keep it hidden, you saw tufts of hair sprouting messily from Anaïs’s head like grass. You had seen grass taller than that, too.

Noticing your stare, Anaïs snatched the wig from your hands and haphazardly put it back on. She avoided your eyes.

“Who cut your hair?”

“I did.”

“Who told you to cut your hair?”

Anaïs shifted in place, clearly considering a lie, and then deciding against it. It would have been useless against you anyway.

“Elke did.”

You let out a string of curses that were certainly not appropriate for Anaïs’s age. The girl did not react to them.

“She said that I wouldn’t be able to take care of long hair alone in Inazuma. That it would get in the way of the job.”

That was a logical assessment, as one would expect from Elke. A cold one. It stirred the bile in your stomach.

Anaïs’s parents had never allowed her to have long hair.

“Elke says some pretty stupid things sometimes,” you started, biting back the adjectives that were roaring in your mind. “I’ll have a word with her when we go back. And you keep growing your hair out so we can work on that braid, okay?”

The girl gave a small nod, still refusing to meet your eyes. Careful not to remove the wig, you gingerly adjusted it on Anaïs’s head. You gave Anaïs an once-over, making sure the girl was ready to go back to the streets as inconspicuously as possible. Your hand stopped at Anaïs elbow, mostly covered by a rusty brown scab.

“This looks painful.”

“I fell on the ship,” Anaïs admitted, cheeks flashing pink. “It hurt a lot, but I managed to clean the blood before anyone noticed.”

“Good job,” you whispered, unable to keep the hint of pride from your voice. You still felt it was too soon for Anaïs to be taking jobs so far from home, but you could not deny that the girl was diligent. “Keep it clean, alright? And have Sylvain bandage it for you if you need.”

An enthusiastic nod, and Anaïs’s eyes were finally back on you. You tried to focus on the fact that now you and Anaïs were in the same country, and you did not have to worry about whatever harsh words Elke was telling her. No, you only had to worry about Sylvain. You did not know which was worse.

“-should be handled carefully! Otherwise, the gunpowder might leak! Itto, no- put it on the other side.”

“Ugh, why are you so picky about this?”

“She is paying us, Boss, she can be as picky as she likes.”

“Shinobu, would it kill you to be on my side just this once? You were the one who told me this job was supposed to be chill!”

“You are literally just moving boxes around.”

“You’re all doing a great job! Just, uh, be careful, alright? And don’t you worry, Hitomi, by the end of the day this will all be ready for the tomorrow’s concer- hey, Hitomi?”

You blinked to find a hand waving in front of your face. You forced your jaw to relax and offered Yoimiya an apologetic smile.

“Sorry, these last-minute preparations are occupying all corners of my mind.” All corners except those overtaken by Anaïs’s sudden presence in Inazuma and Thoma’s coldness towards you. “But thank you, things here seem to be going very smoothly.”

Behind Yoimiya, Itto tripped and almost dropped a box, saved at the last second by Shinobu. You focused your stare on Yoimiya’s earring and not on the Electro crackling at Shinobu’s fingertips as she slammed a fist on top of Itto’s head. If that ever went to court, you did not want to be a witness.

“Oh, don’t worry about it! I can see that you’re a bit stressed out,” the pyrotechnician said. “Thoma was also like that when he came by earlier.”

Panic flared inside you at the thought that Thoma might have told Yoimiya what had happened with that letter. But Yoimiya mentioned him no further, only sauntered towards another crate and opened it, beckoning you to come closer.

“I plan to release these on the last day of the festival, after the performances. They are camellia-shaped and it took me so long to get the right color- it’s going to be a very pale blue. And then these other ones are going to be little snowflakes- oh, and falling stars, and- what do you think? Do you think Ayaka will like them?”

There was something in her tone beyond Yoimiya’s usual excitement about her craft. A certain anxiousness that was quite out of character. Yoimiya was not averse to asking people for their opinions on her fireworks, yes, but she was also confident in her work and in her understanding of customers’ wishes. Yet, that was not the first time she had asked you about the fireworks for Ayaka. Now that you thought about it, it was not the first time Yoimiya had shown a certain eagerness in doing something for Ayaka.

You patted the blonde’s shoulder and offered her a gentle smile. “This is amazing, Yoimiya. I know she will love it.” And then, just as you felt Yoimiya’s muscles start to relax, the smile twisted into a smirk. “And just how long has this crush on milady been going on?”

“WHAT?”

Yoimiya jumped back, stumbling over the crate, and almost falling on her back, saved at the last second by Your catching her wrist. Even after she had righted herself, Yoimiya could not stop trembling.

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about! I mean, I don’t have a crush on Ayaka! She’s just my friend! And b-besides, everyone loves her! Heh, that’s no surprise, she’s pretty amazing, and-”

“Yoi. You’re blushing.”

“I am not!” she cried, covering her face with her hands. You chose to say nothing. If you opened your mouth, you might betray a snicker or two over how Yoimiya tried to make herself melt into her own hands. After a few seconds of squirming, Yoimiya finally lowered her fingers enough for you to see her eyes. “Please, don’t tell her…”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” You wrapped an arm around Yoimiya’s shoulders. “You never thought of making a move?”

“I can’t!” Yoimiya squeaked, and then quickly covered her mouth, looking around to see if anyone had heard. After confirming that Itto was still receiving a lecture by an angry Shinobu, she continued, more softly. “I’m pretty sure she likes someone else…”

The resignation in Yoimiya’s voice tied a strange knot in your stomach. That was not a tone Yoimiya should ever use.

“Hey. Look here.” Yoimiya raised her head, only to have your index finger pressed against her forehead. “You are an amazing person, Naganohara Yoimiya, and anyone would be lucky to win your affections. Don’t you dare forget that.”

Yoimiya’s cheeks grew impossibly redder for a second, head bobbing up and down as she nodded wordlessly. You gave her forehead a light push before lowering your finger. You watched as the blonde rubbed the spot and a new, gentler smile spread across her lips.

“Thanks, Hitomi.” And then, in a conspiratorial whisper, “And don’t think I haven’t prepared something special for you as well. But I won’t tell you! Only Thoma knows, and you’d better not bribe him to tell you.”

For the second time during your brief conversation, your mood soured. You should change the topic. Ask if there were any other pending issues about the festival and, if not, report back to Ayaka. Instead, you found yourself inquiring, “Did Thoma seem alright when he came by earlier?”

Yoimiya tapped a finger on her chin. “Uhm… As I mentioned, he was distracted. But he also seemed kinda down… I thought it was the stress of the past few days, so I didn’t want to bother him about it. Why? Did something happen?”

It was a risky move. You should not let other people know how precarious your position in the Kamisato household had suddenly become. But then again, you had just agreed to keep Yoimiya’s secret; at the very least, you were owed the same treatment, and you had known Yoimiya long enough to know she would honor such a request. Besides, Yoimiya had known Thoma the longest. She had helped you get through him before.

When you thought about it, that would be a reasonable exchange between friends, right? Seeking advice from one another. Hitomi and Yoimiya. Even if you never would.

“I made a mistake and he’s angry with me. I can’t really tell the details, but I kind of invaded his privacy.” You wished you could be more transparent than that, if only to increase your chances at receiving useful advice, but that would mean another breach of Thoma’s privacy. You did not like that thought. “I keep apologizing but he’s still mad. Honestly, it’s been quite annoying.”

Yoimiya did not answer right away. She hummed thoughtfully, considering your words. “I see… Just how bad was this mistake?”

“Pretty bad,” you winced.

Yoimiya’s gaze softened. “Look… we all make mistakes sometimes. And I know Thoma isn’t the type to hold grudges, especially against his friends.” These last words made your jaw tense. Yoimiya did not notice. “If you’ve already apologized and tried to correct your mistake, you’ve done all you can… And if he doesn’t want to forgive you, well, that’s up to him, and you just have to accept it. But then he would be missing out on you, and I don’t think Thoma would choose that.”

“I can’t see how he would be missing out on much.”

“Hey! No self-deprecating talk! Take your own advice, Hitomi!” Yoimiya cried, pushing her own finger against your forehead. You had to laugh at the intensity of the blonde’s reaction, even if it only made the knot in your stomach grow tighter.

The wisest course of action for Thoma was, in fact, not to forgive you. To tell the Kamisatos of your actions and have you fired. It would be a fatal blow to your mission. It would also protect them, at least for a while longer.

A part of you almost wished he would do it.

The crowd started to gather on Amakane Island a couple of hours before the beginning of the concerts. Ayaka had prepared for such an occurrence and asked the vendors to set up their stalls ahead of time. The arrangement was proving quite profitable for them; until the music started, the audience had little to do to pass their time besides getting foods and drinks.

Six-Fingered José stood at one of the stalls nearest to the stage, arguing with the vendor while waving his hands in a series of gestures that screamed of exasperation. A while ago, you had paid good Mora to ensure the stalls would not sell alcohol to the Mondstadt bards before their performances. You surmised that was the object of the discussion.

“This is quite a turnout,” you remarked, keeping Ayaka’s attention away from the bard. The Shirasagi Himegimi was already jittery enough as it was, though less trained eyes would not be able to tell. It was the way her eyes shifted restlessly across the crowd that gave it away. Ayaka nodded.

“Yes. It looks very promising. I only hope they will enjoy the concerts.”

“Of course they will. You’ve organized this flawlessly, milady.” This was no mere adulation. Ayaka had done wonders with resources far less abundant than what you were used to seeing in Fontaine. Every detail had been extensively thought of, from the position of the moon upon the stage when the concert reached its climax to the positions of the medical staff and evacuation routes in case of accidents. You were ready to bet no one in Inazuma had ever seen such an elaborate music festival.

With a light blush dusting her cheeks, Ayaka adjusted her ponytail. “Your praise is too high, Hitomi. Don’t forget that you and Thoma were instrumental to making this happen.”

You wished you could forget. Thoma had not looked at you that morning either. You had not seen him for the rest of the day and even now, as your eyes flew over the sea of people, his recognizable strawberry blond hair was nowhere to be seen.

“He should get here soon if he doesn’t want to miss the beginning.”

“Oh.”

That one syllable, and the way Ayaka shifted after saying it, rang a series of alarms in your head. You braced yourself for Ayaka’s next words, already guessing what they would be.

“He is not coming. He had some other things to take care of.”

That was clearly a deflection, if not an outright lie. There were no outstanding issues for either the Yashiro Commission or the Kamisato Clan to deal with that night; you would have heard something, seen some inkling of suspicious acts, at the very least. Thoma had been looking forward to that concert. Before that damned letter.

He was running away, again. And though you knew this would have happened regardless of whether you had been caught, that pang of guilt still hammered in your chest.

“Thoma can’t miss this.”

Ayaka’s gaze flickered to you, the slightest hint of hesitancy showing in the way her lips twitched. Ayaka chose her words carefully. “I thought it would be good for him to come, but I could not convince him.”

That was enough of beating around the bush, especially if you wanted to do something about it. “This is about his mom, isn’t it?”

Ayaka’s eyes widened in surprise and she bit back a gasp. “Did he tell you?”

“I… put the pieces together. And then he refused to talk to me about it.”

A nod, a shadow of familiarity crossing over the Kamisato princess’s face. When she met your gaze again, her shoulders were more relaxed. A contrast to how heavy her words were. “When our parents passed, it was hard for me to understand how I should react. On one hand, I was the eldest daughter of the Kamisato Clan. I was expected to keep my composure and not succumb to emotions even through the darkest times. I did not want to bring even more burdens upon Brother’s shoulders. On the other, I was a child.

The smile that spread across Ayaka’s lips was an odd combination. Sorrow, hurt, but also a hint of fondness shone through. “Thoma was the one who got us through that time. He was patient, gave us the space we needed to grieve, took care of many issues for the household and the Commission so we did not have to. I must have cried around him hundreds of times. And I know Brother confided in him as well.

“Thoma has always protected us. Even now, he believes he is doing that. Putting on a smile, telling us not to worry about him. Brother and I have tried to talk to him, get him to go to Mondstadt, but he insists there is no need, that he still has work to do here. We then tried to give him space, waiting for him to come around… and he hasn’t. Thoma is suffering alone, and I do not know how to help him.”

It was unsettling, really, how alike Thoma and Ayaka were in that aspect. Thoma was hurting and did not want her to know. Ayaka was hurting precisely because of that, and you would bet all your Mora that Ayaka had never expressed that to Thoma either. Protectiveness in its most vicious cycle.

Sometimes, it took an outsider to break it.

“I’ll go get him.” And knock some sense into him remained unsaid, but you liked to think Ayaka knew you well enough by then to catch the implication. The Shirasagi Himegimi looked like she could burst from gratitude.

You looked around and, upon finding Yoimiya at the backstage ruffling through some crates, called her over. “Yoi! I need to fix something. Can you stay with Miss Kamisato tonight and help her out with whatever she needs!”

“I- Of course!” You did not miss the apprehension in Yoimiya’s eyes, probably wondering if that was your way of setting them up. You had no time to assuage those concerns. And a mischievous part of you thought it would be good to keep Yoimiya on her toes.

“There is a spot in Ritou by the coast where he likes to go to be alone. On the eastern side, just past the harbor,” Ayaka supplied helpfully. “I do not know if he is there, but that would be a good place to look.”

“Got it.”

“And Hitomi…” You halted and turned your head back towards Ayaka. Her pale blue eyes seemed to brim with things she wanted to say. She settled on this, “Thank you.”

The moon was beginning to rise by the time you got to the place Ayaka had mentioned. The first concert would start soon. You ignored the shortness of your breath, proof of how relentlessly youhad run, and jogged the last stretch to beyond the tree line.

You spotted him quickly enough, the red of his clothes offering little camouflage so close to the shore. He had his back against a tree and eyes set on the horizon. The direction of Mondstadt, you noticed, not that the continent could be seen from such a distance. There was too much ground to be covered, an unforgiving ocean to be braved, mountains to be crossed. And among all the things that filled the gap between Mondstadt and Inazuma, the most abundant of them was absence. The weight of something lost was one under which your bones had grown, but it still made your knees buckle.

Your feet moved slowly, as quietly as they could, not that Thoma would have heard you anyway, not when there was so little tethering his mind to the earth at that moment. Still, you did not want to warn him of your presence to soon, to give him the chance to erect the wall around his eyes again. Your caution proved warranted, though for different reasons. It was what allowed you to see the dogs before you got too close.

Two of them, the usual kinds of large brownish strays that dominated the streets of Ritou. Both were laying down beside Thoma, one with its head on his lap, allowing Thoma to absent-mindedly stroke its fur. It was this dog that first noticed your arrival, one ear popping up like a radar. You froze, body and mind. Your thoughts could not connect beyond the alarms of panic flaring in your head as the dog got up and barked, alerting the other one as well.

Every muscle in your body went taut, bracing themselves for pain and effectively pinning you into place. The screams in your mind, pleas for the dogs not to look at you, not to come closer, go away go away, seemed for naught as both of them rose up and stared straight at you.

“Hitomi?”

It felt as though someone had laced your wrist and yanked you back to the ground. You blinked.

Thoma had gotten to his knees, hands clutching at the dogs’ backs, keeping them in place.

He was looking at you.

Straight at you.

“We have to go.”

The sound of your own voice surprised you; you had not felt your mouth moving. It surprised Thoma as well, if the way he frowned was any indication. Still, he did not relax his grip on the dogs.

You cleared your throat, struggling to put words in a coherent order. “The concert. We have to go now, or we’ll miss it.”

The crease in Thoma’s brow deepened. The confusion dissipated, replaced by something colder.

“I’m not going. You can turn back.”

It did not suit Thoma. You hated it.

You focused on that, and not on the two large canines that could make your night very miserable at any moment.

“You have to go. If you miss it, you’ll regret it, believe me.”

“Hitomi, I’m not going. If you came all this way just to tell me this, I’m sorry you wasted your trip.”

“Archons, can you- can you not be stubborn about this for one damn second?”

 “Just because you read that letter doesn’t mean you know what I need.”

His voice rose in a way that you had only heard once. Back then, it had shielded you. Now, it was attacking. You realized that you did not mind it, though. It was better than the frosty indifference he had worn in the past few days. If his warmth could only come out in the form of blazing anger, you would take it.

You made a decision. You took a step forward.

Thoma’s fury faltered for a quick moment as his grip on the dogs tightened. Their tongues lolled out, tails wagging. You forced yourself not to look at them, eyes locked onto Thoma’s instead. And his on yours, wide in disbelief.

“Wait-” His eyes darted between you and the dogs, wheels moving in his brain as he tried to think of what to do. “Wait, I need to send the dogs away.”

You did not have time. You took another step.

A second for a deep breath was all the pause you allowed yourself before you ran towards Thoma. You willed your brain into blurring the images of the dogs, pretending they were as immobile as the trees in the background, and focusing entirely on the Mondstadter. You barely registered Thoma letting go of the dogs and rising to his feet.

And then your hands were clutching his shoulders, your forehead bumping against his chest, heart hammering in your own as a chorus of high-pitched yaps reached your ears. Soft thuds echoed against the grass, growing quieter and quieter until they disappeared entirely. Even with your eyes on the ground, you could see the crimson wisps of Pyro energy surrounding you. It was only then that you registered Thoma’s hands on your back, pulling you close to him.

You looked up, relief mixing with confusion, only to see that Thoma himself did not seem to know what to do with his expression. The anger was still there, but so many other emotions wrestled with it, ones you did not have time to discern. Before he could speak or put his shield down, you said, “I’m sorry.”

The fabric of Thoma’s jacket crumpled under your fingers.

“I’m sorry, I really am. I shouldn’t have invaded your privacy, it was stupid, and you are right to be angry with me. But you can’t keep spiraling into grief like this.”

Thoma’s jaw tensed and his fingers dug into your back for a brief second before he forced them to relax. It took him visible effort to keep his voice steady.

“I’m not. I’m dealing with this my way, and I would like you to respect it.”

“You are not dealing with this. Not talking to me? That’s alright, I can understand. But not even talking to Ayaka-”

“You discussed this with her?” Thoma’s hands left you at once, shock and hurt washing over his features.

“No,” you said quickly, finally letting go of his jacket, but not moving away. “She just told me you haven’t really talked about your mother’s death with her. Or Ayato. And I think you need-” Your eyes darted around as though hoping the next right words would be written somewhere nearby. A thought took root in your mind, and this was how you formulated it: “-you need to punch a tree.”

“What?”

“Punch a tree,” you repeated, more confidently this time. “Let it all out. It’s worth it, trust me.”

“Hitomi, no.” The anger in his tone was slowly giving way to exasperation. That would not do. You needed to keep the fire going.

“Yes. You’ve kept it in for long enough. Now you need to face it.”

“Hitting a tree won’t help it.” Thoma crossed his arms and took a step back. You could see the walls coming up around his eyes, and you did not care for it.

“Then hit me! Or scream, break something, anything!” You slammed your own fist on the nearest tree trunk, stirring the leaves.

“That’s not- I can’t just throw my anger on everything around me!”

“So you’ll just keep bottling it up?” Another punch. “Pretending it doesn’t exist when you are clearly not well?” Another.

“I am well! I am sad, of course, but there is nothing to be concerned about!”

“Bullshit.” Another. “You put on a smile, do your job, and think no one is going to notice?” Another. “Why do you refuse to acknowledge it?”

“Because none of that is going to bring her back!”

Thoma punched the tree.

A loud thud resonated, followed by a single green leaf tumbling down slowly, almost as if it had decided to jump for itself. You did not flinch. Before Thoma could realize what he had done and feel guilty about it, you took a step forward.

“And what about it?”

“Talking about it isn’t going to bring my mother back. Being angry isn’t going to bring her back. Nothing is, so why should I do all of that and worry and hurt those around me as well?”

“Oh, you think you’re being altruistic? Guess what. Everyone is already worried and hurt seeing you like this! So great job, Chief Retainer!”

Thoma bristled. Uncertainty crept back into his voice. “They aren’t- they shouldn’t be. I’m fine.”

“We are! Are you really that blind?”

The silence that followed made you acutely aware of how loudly you had been yelling. Thoma pursed his lips like one would after taking a bite of a bitter fruit. It did not look like he had let everything out yet. But you did not feel like yelling anymore.

“Thoma.” You breathed in, lowered your voice. “Sometimes we need to break before we can be put back together. I think you need to do that.”

He did not answer immediately but did not look away either. You could see his hands opening and closing into fists, as though he did not know what to do with all that tension. You tried again.

“You know, you have a lot of people willing to help you pick up the pieces. And that makes it so much easier.”

“What if I don’t deserve to be put back together?”

The panic in Thoma’s voice startled you. Tears welled in his eyes, on the brink of falling.

“You cannot be serious.” Though everything in you screamed that that was not the moment to be harsh, you could not keep the frustration out of your voice. But instead of pulling away, the heat in your tone beckoned him closer. The wall broke, and words leaked out.

“I broke my promise to her. I told her I wouldn’t just disappear like dad. I thought I would go back to Mondstadt to visit at some point. But I kept putting it off. Then the Sakoku Decree came, and no one could leave.”

A strange sound left Thoma’s throat, something brittle and hollow. You realized it was a laugh.

“She didn’t even tell me she was sick, you know? She didn’t want to cause me more worry, with the Vision Hunt Decree and everything that was going on here. Then at some point it became harder to send mail abroad. I kept writing, but I was never sure if she got my letters. I never received a reply. I wrote every month, and then the Sakoku Decree was repealed.”

The edges of Thoma’s lips quirked up, catching, the tear that had begun to slide down his cheek. “Do you know how long she had been dead for by then? One year. I wrote twelve letters to my mom not knowing she was dead.”

At each word, more tears fell, and each of them felt like acid dripping onto your chest. How would that be, writing to a parent, picturing them opening your letter and savoring the updates on your life, planning your next gathering, only to find out that your words had been late? That you had been late.

“Thoma,” It felt like your mouth was filled with cotton, but you pushed through it. “It’s not your fault. It’s the fault of those who made the Decree happen. You couldn’t have known.”

He shook his head. “I could have taken at least a week off, you know? All these years. The Kamisato Clan still needed me but Archons, I could have taken one week.”

“If you didn’t, then I’m sure you couldn’t have. Thoma, you couldn’t have expected this. You can’t blame yourself like that.”

“You don’t understand.” His voice rose, barely comprehensible through the tears. “I could have done things differently. I shouldn’t have just taken her for granted.”

Your body moved before she could think about it, hands stretching out and grabbing Thoma by the shoulders. An electric current seemed to pass across you, causing Thoma’s head to jolt and his eyes, puffy and red, to lock onto yours.

“I do understand.”

There is a distinct ache that comes when one does not want to say something but needs to. When words swelled inside a throat, boulders trying to pass through a needle’s eye. A myriad of voices screaming, speak, don’t speak, a battle over the best outcome that reason has no chance to win. For it is not reason the final judge, but that small twitch of muscle that will or will not allow the first words to roll forward.

These were your first words:

“When I was little, I lived with my dads in Ritou for a while.”

Et après ça, le déluge. After that, the flood.

“We were out one night, and the owner of this restaurant refused to buy my Oton’s fish. He pushed him to the ground. I started crying, I was so, so loud. Some parts of Ritou weren’t very safe at that time. A couple of men cornered us into an alley, tried to mug us. My dads didn’t have any Mora but, of course, they didn’t believe them. I kept crying. One of the men told Papa to shut me up, but I just. Kept crying.” There was a buzzing in your ear, a prelude to images threatening to resurface. You steeled your resolve, kept your eyes on Thoma and focused on your own voice. “Papa was trying to calm me down, but the man got nervous and stabbed him. Oton tried to fight them, but they took him down too. They killed my dads, panicked, and ran.”

And only then had you stopped crying. When you were alone in the alley.

Curiously, Thoma had stopped as well. And you had just begun.

“If I had been quiet, maybe the muggers wouldn’t have panicked so much. Maybe my dads would be alive.”

“It was not your fault.” Thoma’s voice was small, but firm. Your shoulders shook as you snorted.

“Don’t worry, I know. Took me a while, though. Gods, I spent years blaming myself for that. And then years telling myself that, if I ever saw those muggers again, I would kill them. But it’s like you said. That wouldn’t bring them back. Nothing will. Bottling up my grief or not. So if I had to keep living, better try to do it in a way that makes me less miserable, no?”

“You shouldn’t be less miserable. You should be happy.” Thoma’s thumb brushed gently against your cheek, wiping a tear. You smirked.

“That’s good advice. Mind applying it to yourself?”

A chuckle escaped Thoma’s lips, mixed with a sob. He averted his eyes for a moment but did not retract his hand. Nor had you released his shoulders. You could feel his chest heaving with every breath, mind still trying to process everything that had been said. The longer he took to look at you, the more concerned you grew that he would push the mask of a smile once again onto his face.

You opened your mouth to speak, to try to goad something out of him. That was when you noticed a strange sound growing louder. Light and melodious.

A lyre?

“Why, hello, friends! Is there anything as fine as a stroll with the moon up high?”

Your hands fell to your sides at once, just as all of your blood seemed to rise to your face.

“Venti, what the- you’re supposed to be at the festival!”

“Oh?” The man had the nerve to cock his head as if surprised, and yet made no move to leave. His fingers lazily strummed his lyre.

“Don’t you fucking ‘oh’ me-”

“Venti, if you had any trouble getting there, we can escort you. But you really should get going to make it on time,” Thoma intervened, running a hand across his face as though the tear stains were not evident on both of you. Venti smiled and shook his head.

“Don’t you worry about it. José is still performing, I’ve got plenty of time! Besides, as a bard, I must go where the music calls me. And something in the wind led me here. So, might this bard play you a piece?”

“Absolutely not-”

“It’s better not to risk-”

“Woah, woah, what do the two of you have against music?” Venti cried, raising his hands in mock alarm. “Just a quick song and I’ll be out of your hair, alright? I promise it will be worth your while!”

You wanted to refuse again. Venti’s appearance had been ill-timed enough; you did not know how much of that conversation Thoma would take to heart. The least you could do now was try to prevent the festival from being jeopardized on its first day because of one negligent performer. Thoma, however, deemed that the quickest way out was to comply with the bard’s wishes.

“One song. And then you have to get to Amakane quickly, alright?”

A bright grin spread across Venti’s lips. “Not to worry! Now, my dear audience… please take a seat.”

Thoma promptly sat down on the grass and, after a tug on your hand, you begrudgingly did the same. The green-clad bard winked at you, followed by a giggle when he caught you gritting your teeth. Venti then closed his eyes and plucked the strings.

The first notes wafted towards you, upbeat and lively, quite different from the song he had played to you when you first met. It was not the kind of harmony you usually gravitated towards but the sound was pleasant. It did not take long for you to find Thoma softly tapping a finger against his thigh in the same rhythm.

Vaguely, you wondered if that was a traditional style from Mondstadt. Your stay there had been too short and hectic for you to catch any performances, despite how frequently the bards congregated at the city’s square and played regardless of an audience.

The tempo slowed down, the notes becoming softer. If the first part of the song felt like a child prancing around a hill, the second one evoked a gentle breeze on a summer day. You closed your eyes appreciatively.

The picture spilled before her, a cliffside covered by light green grass and surrounded by the ocean. The sun high in the sky, the intensity of its beams soothed by the wind. Amidst you, the flowers seemed to dance, their long green stems bending and milky white petals shimmering. Their anthers were an unexpected wine red.

The sound of laughter seemed to echo along with the song, just as soft and just as warm. It made your heart clench, the familiar pulse of sadness enveloping it. But it did not hurt. Instead, it gave you the confounding urge to smile. Someone smiled back. You could not make out their face, as though it was covered by a veil, blurring their features. For some reason, though, you could see the smile. It was just like Papa’s.

The person continued to smile as they rose into the air, higher and higher, and finally free as they became one with the wind. They were not gone. They were everywhere, their warmth lingering.

You kept your eyes closed, reveling in that warmth for what felt like short seconds. You hoped it had been. The next thing you knew, it was silent again.

Your eyes snapped open and instinctively flew to Thoma. You could not tell if he had been affected by Venti’s music the same way you had been. But he was crying. And smiling.

Wordlessly, Thoma rose to his feet and walked up to Venti. Smile still stretching wide, he offered the bard a bow.

“Thank you, Venti. Truly.”

Venti took his hat off and gave a much more flourished bow back. “It is my duty and pleasure to help the children of the wind. And now… I’d better be off before our friend Hitomi bites my head off!”

You scowled at the bard, eliciting a yelp from him and a laugh from Thoma. Then, with a toothy grin, Venti waved and darted off. Hopefully to Amakane Island. But you would not check.

You stood up beside Thoma.

“How are you feeling? Really feeling.”

The Mondstadter turned his smile to you. It was smaller than the ones he had offered you before. Far more genuine as well.

“Better. Not great, but better.”

You nodded, prying no further. To your surprise, Thoma continued.

“My mom loved to have picnics on Starsnatch Cliff. It has a beautiful view out to the sea, and it’s the best place to find Cecilias.”

An alarm rang in your head at the description. It sounded like the place you had imagined when you had daydreamed to the music. But you had never been to Starsnatch Cliff, had not seen much of Mondstadt besides the city and some villages. Hundreds of questions bubbled in your head, but you decided not to share them.

“She taught me to feed the stray cats and dogs in the city. She loved to make gifts for others. She made the best winter hats, with those pompoms on top.”

Thoma moved his hand into his jacket. There, from a small hidden pocket, he pulled out an omamori. Gold, red, and black, the same colors Thoma favored.

“She gave me this omamori when I left Mondstadt. Said it would protect me.” His glanced fondly at the small memento, holding it so gingerly it was almost hesitant. “My dad gave it to her. I had planned to give it back to her when I went to visit.”

He turned to you again. New tears brimmed in his eyes. “It’s so hard to imagine that I won’t see her again.”

There was nothing you could say to that. You stretched out your arms towards Thoma but did not move. It was an invitation, one that could be refused.

Thoma crumbled in your arms. The crying gave way to wailing, to sobbing, to mumbling incoherent words in the same breath as he spilled memories with his mother. You listened. Through all of it, youheld him, guided him down to the grass, and stroked his hair – a gesture that was more selfish than anything because it gave you the illusion of doing something when your heart clenched at the fact that you could do nothing.

It was hard to tell how much time you spent like that. Eventually, you gave up hope that you might get him to watch the concert – in any event, Venti’s private performance had been much more meaningful. By the time Thoma’s tears dried up, his head was cradled on your lap, one of your hands softly running through the tangles of his hair while the other was enveloped by Thoma’s own hands. His position did not seem comfortable, but he had not moved in a while. Maybe you should tell him to stretch out his legs, at least. You opened your mouth, then halted, a red light flashing inside your head.

Thoma was defenseless, stripped of his armor in all ways that mattered. You could put a dagger to his back before he noticed, could use your words to bend reality before his mind caught up to it. His trust in you might have been irreversibly shaken by your previous carelessness but, at that moment, it was absolute. You should be working out a way to take advantage of that.

The thought triggered a sick feeling in your stomach. When had it been the last time someone had trusted you so deeply not to hurt them? Not even Sylvain, in the years before your partnership burned to crisp, would have allowed you to see him like this. When had it been the last time you had talked about Papa and Oton to someone who listened?

The hand on his hair stopped abruptly. You had talked about Papa and Oton. Hitomi did not have a Papa and an Oton. Oh shit, shit, shit, fuck, shit-

“She left me one last letter.”

You started at the sound of Thoma’s voice. He turned on your lap, now facing you.

“I haven’t opened it yet. I thought that… it would feel like accepting that she was really gone.”

You caught onto those words like a lifeline. He had not yet realized your mistake, and you could deal with that later.

“She is gone… and she will always be with you. Opening the letter or not is not going to change that.” Your gaze softened and your hand resumed its work on his hair. “But it might give you some comfort.”

“It might… But I don’t feel ready.”

“Honestly? There’s no way to feel ready for this kind of thing. Only less bad. I’m not saying you have to read it tonight but if you keep waiting to be ready, you’ll never open it.”

Thoma nodded slowly, considering your words.

The softness of his hair was a pleasant feeling. Unexpectedly relaxing. You wondered if he liked petting dogs so much because it had a similar effect.

Your hand stopped again. You did not like the path your mind was taking you.

“Is it the will that the Knights are pestering you about?”

As soon as the question left your lips, you wanted to kick yourself. You did not want to remind Thoma of how you had ended up in that situation in the first place. To your relief, he showed no signs of displeasure.

“No, that is a separate document. I haven’t opened either.”

You hummed, pursing your lips. “I’m still sorry about opening that letter. And I understand if you don’t want to talk about this with me anymore, just, please, find someone else and don’t keep it all bottled up.”

Your voice trembled at the thought of going back to Thoma’s refusal to look at you. You could not deny that you deserved it, though.

But Thoma squeezed your hand, the tiniest of smiles coming to his lips.

“I forgive you. Just… Please, don’t do it again?”

“I won’t,” you said quickly. “Even when you’re being stubborn and annoying, I won’t.” Thoma chuckled and squeezed your hand again.

That was a tall promise, you knew, especially when the job was still incomplete. But you had not made it half-heartedly. That one, you were determined to keep.

Ayaka had arrived at the Estate safe and sound the previous night and let you know that the first day of the festival had been an overwhelming success. The audience had been particularly captivated by Venti’s performance and one of the bars in Ritou had even offered him three days’ worth of sake if he could perform there before leaving Inazuma. The fireworks had been beautiful, tailored with Mondstadt motifs and colors. Already at the end of the first day, it had been possible to feel people’s excitement about the next set of concerts.

With such a positive outcome, having Yoimiya arrive loudly and breathlessly at the Estate’s gates early the next morning raised no alarms in your head. If anything, she should be bearing even more good news.

That was, until you saw Yoimiya’s face. Eyes as wide as you had ever seen them and an expression that could only be described as panic.

“HITOMI,” Yoimiya cried, almost colliding with you when she reached you. “I need your help. Now.”

Chapter Text

With all the ruckus on the street, the clattering of goods being knocked from their stalls, the shouting of angry vendors and customers alike, and the barking of the dog, your own heartbeat was the last thing you should be hearing. Yet, it was deafening in your ears.

You brought your legs closer to your chest and hugged them, displacing a few lavender melons in the process. Any other time, being surrounded by so much fruit, even one so bitter, would have caused you to salivate. Now, the grumbling of your stomach had all but disappeared amidst the cacophony between your chest and your mind.

You had thought the dog was asleep. It should not have seen you. You should not have slipped. You should be feasting right now with a fat piece of ham pilfered from Mr. Mean Moustache’s stand.

You should have been faster.

Upon feeling the salty drops running down your cheeks, you clasped your hands over your mouth. You were not safe yet; the dog could still be sniffing for you, and Mr. Mean Moustache could have realized he had been robbed. You would stay in that box until you were completely certain that you were in the clear.

But the box did not stay in one place. It shifted suddenly, sending you stumbling face first against the melons. You bit your tongue and were unable to repress a whimper. The sound was drowned by grumbles and loud voices outside of the box, voices that made your heart race even faster. They were speaking Fontainian.

“Why are you getting us that? It’s disgusting!”

“It’s nutritious, you dolt. They don’t have bulle fruit in Inazuma, so lavender melons will have to do until we get back.”

“Putain de-”

You were not supposed to hear cursing like that. Oton did not want you to. But you swore that profanity had never sounded so beautiful as it did now.

Besides. Not like Oton would know.

The box finally stopped moving, and you surmised it had been set down. Among Fontainians. You could ask them for help. They could give you food. You could go home. The ember of hope flared in your chest, beautiful and painful, and you found new tears forming around your eyes. You sat up and lifted your hands to move the lid of the box when a new voice sounded.

“Shut the fuck up, you two.”

Your hand stilled. It sounded like a man, and he sounded angry. You had never gotten help from anyone who was angry before. You should wait for him to calm down.

Footsteps echoed against wood, and a small click pointed to a door being closed. The voices stopped. And then the angry man was back.

“Where did you leave Baptiste?”

“At the Outlander Affairs Agency,” answered another voice. “He’s filling out the forms and settling the tax payments.”

“And he did not see you get the fish, did you?”

“No, of course not.”

“Are you sure that fisherman was not messing with us?” a third voice inquired. “This little fishy doesn’t look so bad.”

“This ‘little fishy’ can make you puke your guts out in less than 24 hours,” Angry Man said.

“… ew.”

“So make sure you don’t mess up when preparing the food.”

“And what if Baptiste doesn’t die from this?”

“Well, then at least he will be weakened enough that we won’t have to deal with that pesky Vision of his. Just cut his throat.”

The air left your lungs all at once. What were they talking about? People die when they have their throats cut. Oton had died when-

Those people were murderers. Fontainian murderers, which somehow made it worse.

“Now finish loading up. Don’t want to spend a minute longer in this stinky harbor than I have to.”

“Yes, captain.”

There was shuffling, more footsteps, and you pressed yourself against the corner of the box, trying to make yourself disappear, melt into the wood. Eventually, the click sounded again and there was silence. You still did not move. Your fingers trembled as though someone had shoved them into ice, and that was your only sign that your body had not been petrified.

If they caught you, you would die. Throat cut.

Just like-

A door was slammed, followed by more footsteps. You started, suddenly realizing that too much time had passed since the other people had left. And now your exit was blocked, again.

The steps came closer and closer, and you could only hold your breath when the box’s lid was pulled open. The man that stared down at you had short blond hair and the clearest blue eyes you had ever seen. Instead of looking surprised to see you, he smiled. But it was a strange smile. Instead of bringing relief, you only felt colder.

“What do we have here? Une petite pouce?”

“I didn’t hear anything,” your voice shot, desperation ringing louder than fear for a moment. The man’s smile did not change.

“What did you not hear, mon chou?”

His voice was different from the three you had heard before. There was a honeyed quality to it, beckoning you to come closer, at the same time that it made every hair in your body stand. You could not tell which of those feelings finally made you say, “There are murderers here! Those guys bought a fish, and the fish makes you puke in 24 hours. And if you don’t puke, they cut your throat. They- they’re going to do that to a guy called Baptiste. I don’t know who that is- please don’t cut my throat!”

For the first time in your brief conversation, the man’s eyes widened. It was only for a second. But then, when he smiled again, you could swear you felt warmer.

“You must be hungry, ma puce. Come, let’s get something to eat. And then you can tell me everything.”

“For the record: this wasn’t my fault.”

“Boss, no one said it was.”

“I know, but I betcha Angry Cucumber was thinking it!”

“I was.”

“See?!”

“This- this is bad!” Yoimiya whimpered. As if to emphasize her point, another thick drop of water fell from the pipe and onto the crate where a pile of thoroughly soaked fireworks lied.

“I am so sorry, Yoimiya, I had no idea about this leak,” Kiminami Anna said, eyes wide as she took in the scale of the disaster.

According to what Yoimiya had told you and Thoma as you all dashed from the Kamisato Estate to Inazuma City early in the morning, she had run out of storage space in the shop and decided to have some of the fireworks’ crates placed outside, between Naganohara Fireworks and Kiminami Restaurant. One of the external pipes at Kiminami’s had started leaking during the night (a fact wholly unrelated to the Arataki Gang, as their leader had stressed) and ruined one of the batches of fireworks. Precisely the one that had been prepared for Xinyan’s concert.

“It’s not your fault, Anna. But it’s… It’s really bad luck. Ow…”

“We’ll fix this, Yoimiya,” Thoma said, placing a hand on her shoulder. His expression had barely shifted since Yoimiya had barged into the Estate, always holding that confident tranquility that only someone whose life was dedicated to fixing problems could. He had been the one to let Ayaka know that something urgent had come up – but not to worry, you would take care of it – and ask Koharu to accompany her to receive the Liyue delegation arriving that morning. Given a few seconds, you would have arrived at that same course of action, but Thoma had done so immediately. It was like seeing a clockwork meka activate its security protocol.

Thoma asked, “Can you make a new batch for tomorrow? What would you need?”

Yoimiya’s shoulders sagged in defeat. “I don’t think so. I would need more time… To grind the ore, mix it up properly, make the stars, make the shells, put the right amount of stars in the right cases… It’s a lot of work, and my dad can’t work as fast as he used to.”

“We can do it,” you immediately offered. “Just show us how, and we’ll help.”

From the corner of your eye, you saw Shinobu pinch Itto’s arm. The oni yelped but tried to pass it off as some kind of excited shout, thrusting his fist into the air. “That’s right! And count the Arataki Gang in too!”

Yoimiya opened and closed her mouth several times, thrill and despair each tugging at her sides. “I have the extra materials for the shells… If everyone helps out, I can recreate some- but then- the ore! I used a mix of noctilucous jade ore for those fireworks, and I barely have any left!”

“Can you replace it with something else?” asked Thoma, ever the practical one.

“Yes, but it won’t be the same thing. Different colors, different effect.”

“Understood. Here is what I propose. You all stay here working on the shells, I will go around the city and get the ore.”

A succession of nods followed, fierce determination spreading across the group like wildfire. Akira, Genta, and Mamoru pushed their sleeves up, showing off the absence of muscle, and Itto cracked his knuckles before Shinobu pulled his ear and made him stop. You slipped a hand into Yoimiya’s and gave it a squeeze, which was earnestly returned. Little by little, the panic faded from her face. When Yoimiya turned to Thoma again, a familiar spark greeted him.

“Alright! Check with Amenoma Smithy, I always buy from them. I will write down the quantities.”

“I will make you snacks and lunch,” Anna added, still feeling guilty about the occurrence.

“Thank you so much,” you quickly said, before Yoimiya’s excessive kindness could pass on the offer. You had no time to waste.

Without another word, work started.

Differently from your previous assumptions, the firework shells did more than keeping the gunpowder mix in one place before it blew up in the air. The way a firework exploded, how quickly, which shapes it would make, all depended on the design of the shell. The slightest mistake could cause the firework to go off at the wrong time, or not at all, and cost the entire spectacle.

The Naganoharas kept dozens of spare shells ready in case of an accident but, for a festival of that magnitude, there were still many more that had to be crafted. Yoimiya was patient in explaining how you should prepare the shells and Ryuunosuke joined her in supervising your work, ensuring that as few materials as possible would go to waste. Shinobu added a fortunate extra layer of surveillance over the Arataki Gang in addition to doing her own share of work and, somehow, Ushi seemed to be helping keep Itto on track as well.

“Moooooo.”

“What do you mean, it’s crooked? I did exactly how she showed it!”

“Mooo!”

“Fine, I’ll just- heh. Y’know what, this actually looks better. Good job, pal!”

As tends to be the norm, it got easier after the first frustratingly mediocre attempts. Yoimiya inspected every centimeter of the shells, allowing a few imperfections that would not compromise the final product with a begrudging expression that left you no doubt that, had you more time, the shop owner would demand a complete do-over.

Only a couple of hours had passed when Thoma returned to the shop with a pile of crates filled to the brim with ore. The crease in his brow did not match his apparent success, and he wasted no time telling you why.

“I managed to find the other ores around the city, but not noctilucous jade.” Yoimiya’s face blanched, but, before she could truly panic, Thoma said, “I know a supplier in Ritou who might have enough.” At your inquisitive look, he added, “It’s Saimon Jirou.”

A blurry memory flashed before your eyes. Gray cobblestones, the stench of blood, mounting nausea, and, through that maelstrom, the faint voice of a young man chirping, “I met this guy from Liyue and he had a lot of ideas on how to market noctilucous jade here…”

“I’ll go with you.”

Thoma’s eyes widened. “Are you sure? I can-”

“I know his parents, I may be able to use that to our advantage in the negotiations.”

To that, Thoma had no counterargument. So you steeled yourself and focused on the urgent mission before you, pushing the awareness of how close Jirou’s shop was to the site of your fathers’ deaths down, down to the pits of your soul.

As soon as you entered the street, Thoma moved closer to you. Not touching, but deliberately making his presence impossible to ignore. Perhaps for the first time, you were thankful for it.

“Oh, I remember you!” Jirou greeted as you approached. “Thoma and…”

“Hitomi,” you supplied quickly. “We came to place an order. Five kilograms of noctilucous jade ore, handed to us immediately. How much will that cost?”

“Five- what?” Jirou sputtered, eyes darting from you to Thoma as if expecting one of you to start laughing at any moment. Neither did, though Thoma did throw in one of his winning smiles.

“We understand this is a sudden request, so please do not worry about the delivery. We will do it ourselves.”

“Wait- I can’t just do that.”

“Do you not have that quantity of ore?”

“Of course I do!” He sounded almost outraged by the question. “But I need it to complete my orders! I need at least one third of that for the jewelries and ornaments I am to deliver this week, and the next shipment of ore only arrives in four days.”

“We understand that as well. This is a matter of the Yashiro Commission, and the Commission would be willing to compensate for the disruption of your delivery schedule and write to the customers taking responsibility for the delay.”

Jirou was stunned into silence. It was, in fact, a very generous deal. Not only would it cover any immediate financial losses, but preserve the business’s reputation was well – when the Yashiro Commission requested your ore, no one would expect you to deny them. You were confident you would come to a reasonable agreement.

“One million.”

“What?”

“One million Mora,” Jirou repeated, braving the seething glare that you shot in his direction.

“That is almost six times the market average. There is no way your losses would be that high.”

“This must be an urgent matter for the Commission, right? And I must be the only one who can supply it to you. So I set the price, and the price is one million Mora.”

Even for the Yashiro Commission, with all its financial power, the amount was ludicrous, especially for ore. Precarious as your circumstances might be, you would never be able to justify an expense of that magnitude to the Kamisatos.

Thoma still kept his voice leveled.

“That won’t do for us. We can discuss other opportunities to expand your business and come up with a joint plan for three thousand.”

Jirou crossed his arms. “Sorry, this is not a negotiation. I won’t budge from one million.”

“Now, now… that does not seem like ethical business conduct.”

“Since when business has anything to do with ethic?”

The smile on Thoma’s lips looked more strained by the second. Under normal circumstances, he would have invited Jirou for a meal first. Discussed cooperation, softened Jirou up. Or he would have talked to other merchants who owed him favors, made Jirou’s life more difficult.

“Surely you know that abusive practices can have reputational costs.”

“There is nothing abusive with taking advantage of an opportunity!”

Jirou would come to regret those words, but by then it would be too late. You did not have time.

That was exactly why you had come.

You laughed. A hoarse, high-pitched sound that had both men turn to you with a start. You ran a hand through your hair, closed your eyes, and shook your head.

“I can’t believe Katsumi was fucking right.”

At the mention of his father’s name, Jirou stiffened. “What? You talked to my dad?”

Your head whipped towards him, laugh abruptly cut off. You watched with satisfaction as Jirou took a small step back. “You know, it was Eri’s idea. As soon as she heard that we had had a problem with the fireworks for the Biwa Festival, she was certain you could help us. She even asked Yoimiya if she could add a little koi to the show, that would be her homage to you. But Katsumi, he thought you wouldn’t help. He said you wouldn’t be able to get us the ore quick enough. I guess he was an optimist, actually. Even he didn’t think that you would be so selfish as to try to bleed the Yashiro Commission dry and ruin the festival they had been looking forward to the most in years.”

Jirou opened his mouth, perhaps in a reflex to defend himself, but only managed an incoherent whimper. You left him no time to articulate, silencing him with a scornful glare.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell them. Eri doesn’t deserve to deal with this. Come on, Thoma. We’ll figure something out.”

You tugged Thoma by the arm, gesturing for you to leave. The retainer kept his gaze down and his shoulders sagged, a picture of resignation. It was the way his eyes searched for yours as soon as you turned your backs that told you he had understood the plan. More than that, he trusted you with it.

Seven steps was all it took before you heard Jirou’s voice calling out.

“Wait!”

You turned to him, finding Jirou had run after you with wobbly legs and a wobblier smile.

“Why didn’t you tell me it was for the Biwa Music Festival? Of course I can offer a discount for such an important event! How does three thousand Mora sound?”

“Two thousand,” you shot dryly.

“Of course! Two thousand! Perfect! I will get the ore prepared. Just wait here.”

He scurried away to the back of his stall, allowing you to finally release the smirk that had been tugging at the corner of your lips. You turned your head to Thoma, your audience and assistant simultaneously, ready to conclude your performance with a bow, only to find that his peridot stare was already fixed on you.

“You are amazing.”

Are. Present tense. Not were. It was not like Thoma to mess up his words like that. You rolled your shoulders, letting out a chuckle.

“You don’t think I was too cruel?”

“You were… certainly fierce. You had to be.”

“We do everything for the good of the Clan, right?”

Something flickered behind Thoma’s eyes, something that, if you did not know better, you would have called admiration. A strange warmth crept up the back of your neck, softening your lips and melting that smirk into a smile.

Thoma replied, “Right.”

There were tears in Yoimiya’s eyes when you came back to Naganohara Fireworks with the crates of noctilucous jade ore. That way, she could finally release Itto from the shell-making and direct him to a task where his strengths could be put to better use – smashing ore. If the oni’s shouts and jumps were any indication, he also appreciated the change of pace.

The group gulped down the dishes Anna had prepared for lunch without even feeling the taste. Your lack of expertise in the craft felt more evident than ever; though you all had been toiling since morning, you had not made even half of the shells needed. Yoimiya and Ryuunosuke still needed to prepare the pyrotechnic stars with the appropriate ore mixes and teach you how to insert them properly into the shells.

But Yoimiya would not let the morale drop. Her words of encouragement became the rhythm to which you worked, cutting and folding and gluing and pounding. The repetitive motions were only interrupted by the snacks Anna provided and by Ushi’s occasional nuzzle, reminding each of you to take a break and scratch behind his ear. You had initially resisted but relented after Thoma’s insistent whines and Itto’s spiel about how you needed to show appreciation for Ushi and treat him kindly and chill out in general and- (“I’m petting the cow already, just shut up!”)

You would give it to him, though, Ushi’s fur felt nice.

The sun had begun to set when Yoimiya announced that she had to go to Amakane Island and set up the fireworks for the Fontaine night. Thoma scribbled a note to Ayaka updating her of the status of the fireworks. He attempted to start a weak argument as to why you should not miss the concert of your home country but was promptly shushed by both you and Itto.

“Angry Cucumber is not abandoning us!”

“Itto, as soon as we are done, I swear I’ll shove a firework up your-”

So Thoma had Yoimiya deliver the note.

Yoimiya came back hours later, visibly tired but beaming. Her excitement only grew as she surveyed the group’s work. Given Yoimiya’s absence and Ryuunosuke’s difficulty to catch the details under the candle lights, Shinobu had taken it upon herself to act as the main quality controller. That had slowed your progress, but the shells and pyrotechnic stars were indeed looking more solid.

“These are looking great! Thank you so, so much everyone! We have enough shells already, and only a few of the stars left. If we resume work early tomorrow, we can finish before lunch!”

“Why stop now? I can still keep going!”

“Boss, you’ve been making the same shell for the past hour.”

“It’s not my fault the corners don’t bend right! This paper here is probably defective anyway.”

“Itto, please, just go get some sleep. All of you,” Yoimiya added hastily, “should get some sleep.”

The plea, reinforced by the rest of the Arataki Gang’s whining and a batting of eyelashes from Ushi, finally convinced Itto. You tidied up the unused materials, placed the shells and stars in appropriate dry places, and bid Yoimiya farewell for the night. The pyrotechnician made sure to give each of you a tight hug before leading Ryuunosuke back into the house with the promise of fixing him his favorite dish before bed.

The silhouettes of the Arataki Gang quickly disappeared amidst the streets of Hanamizaka and You found yourself alone with Thoma again. He brought a hand to his chin, thinking out loud.

“Since we have to help finish the fireworks early tomorrow, we should probably stay in the city for tonight… I already warned Furuta and Koharu of that possibility, so they should be able to deal with things at the Estate until we get back.”

“Thought of everything, huh?” You teased lightly, earning a chuckle from Thoma.

“Well, not like this is the first emergency I’ve had to solve before a festival… Though this is probably the most laborious one.”

“Alright then. Should we look for an inn?”

Thoma shifted his weight between his feet. “Komore Teahouse has pillows, blankets, and bedrolls in case of an emergency. I’ve spent nights there before, I think it’s our best option. I can pick up Taroumarou and put him in my room, you don’t even have to see him,” he added quickly.

After such a tiring day, facing a dog was not something you felt up to. Thoma was not oblivious to that; it was why he looked so anxious with the proposition. If you said no, it would create a bothersome situation in which you would have to go around looking for an affordable inn late at night. But you knew that Thoma would think of an alternative without complaining.

And if you said yes, he would make sure no harm came to you. Like he had the previous day, even when he was still barely looking at you.

It struck you suddenly, the lengths to which Thoma was ready to go to accommodate you. That you did not need to swallow and face whatever predicament was thrown at you without a choice. The scenario was simple – just a dog, just a night’s sleep. But still.

“He won’t see me.”

“Not if you don’t want him to.”

“And he won’t be able to get into my room at night.”

“He can’t open locked doors. Believe me, I’ve tested before. But if you’re uncomfortable-”

“No.” You sighed, but your mind was made. “Komore it is. Let’s go.”

Thoma stopped shifting, offering you a big smile before heading up the street towards the teahouse.

It was strange to see the building without Kozue’s imposing figure guarding the door, but you supposed even she had to sleep at some point. Thoma gestured for you to wait a few meters from the building, entering alone first. From behind the wooden doors, you could hear his voice rising an octave.

“Hey there, buddy! It’s me! How have you been? How’s the good boy?”

Each question was accentuated by a yap and the sound of floorboards creaking. Your nose scrunched up in a snicker as you conjured the mental image of Thoma greeting the retired ninja dog like someone would a baby. He had mentioned that he had learned how to care for dogs from his mother. Perhaps his affection for the creatures was yet another way of feeling close to her however he could.

With how hectic your day had been, you had not talked about the events of the night before. That was probably for the best. You would not have known what to say at this point. The thought that Thoma might still be pushing down his grief, though, bothered you.

You shook your head. You had too much to worry about already, you should not be picking up extra problems. After the festival, with the translation of the legal opinion in your hands, your path would be clear again. Just a few more days.

The door of the teahouse slid open, and Thoma’s grin illuminated the entrance.

“I put him in my room. He wasn’t happy, but I explained it was for a good cause.”

You stepped inside, following Thoma into the main hall. “Uhm. I’ll have to find a way to thank Taroumarou for his efforts.”

“What about my efforts?”

“What efforts? You’re not the one being locked up.”

“Fair point,” Thoma conceded with a chuckle. “Want some tea before bed?”

“Sure.”

You sat on one of the chairs by the counter, watching as Thoma retrieved the porcelain and herbs to make the tea as easily as if he were at the Kamisato Estate’s kitchen. He put the water to boil and sat in front of you. The soft whistle of the fire filled the space between you, soothing the tension in your muscles. You sprawled your arms and leaned your forehead against the table, trusting Thoma not to gasp at your lack of etiquette. He did not.

Another quiet moment passed before his voice reached you, not much louder than the fire.

“Hey.”

You lifted your head only slightly to see that Thoma had crossed his arms on top of the table and rested his chin on them. Your eyes met.

“I just wanted to say… Thank you for yesterday.”

“You said that already.” There was no bite in your tone, only mild confusion. “Besides, it’s not like I helped much.”

“You did.”

“I didn’t give you any useful advice or-”

“Hitomi.” You stopped, surprised by the firmness in his voice. “You pushed me to talk. You listened. That really helped.”

Your mouth felt strangely dry. “If you say so.”

The whistle grew louder, signaling the boiling point of the water. Thoma pushed himself up and took the teapot away from the fire. He remained silent as he prepared the cups, adding a bit of ginger along with the herbs. Soon enough, a cup was slid towards you.

“Can I ask you,” he started, taking his seat again, “about what you said about your dads?”

You had known that was coming. And, even with how unexpectedly the day had developed, you had prepared.

You shrugged. “What do you want to know?”

Thoma pursed his lips, a sign of nervousness he did not display often. He spoke slowly, as if afraid he might frighten you away. “I remember you mentioning before that your parents were still in Fontaine. But yesterday you said your fathers died here in Inazuma. This was… not the first time you said something like that, but I thought I had misheard it.”

You recalled the disastrous interview at that very teahouse and thanked the Archons that Thoma had not pressed you about the subject at right then. Now, you simply sighed.

“I don’t really talk about my dads often… So I just got used to calling my foster parents my parents.”

“Oh,” Thoma blinked. His eyes widened a fraction and then came back to normal. You wondered if he was surprised by how simple the explanation was or by how forthcoming you were being. Maybe both. “Are your foster parents from Inazuma as well?”

“No. Fontainians, both of them. My foster dad, he came to Inazuma a while after my dads passed. He found me on the streets, learned that I had come from Fontaine, and agreed to take me back with him. He didn’t have time to go through the proper adoption procedures, so… he kind of bribed some officers to make the paperwork seem right.”

“He made them put your dads’ names?”

“Papa’s name, Oton’s deadname.” You drank a large sip of the tea, hoping to wash away the foul taste that spread in your mouth. You did not know Oton’s actual deadname, nor would you ever care to. But it was a convenient lie, one you needed to get out of the impossible situation you had thrown yourself in. Even if it disgusted you.

“I’ve always been afraid that would cause me problems with the Kanjou Commission. I mean, I did leave the country illegally… So I don’t usually bring that up before government officials.”

Thoma looked like he might protest for a second, but then thought better of it. “Let’s not tell them.”

“Let’s not.”

“Still. It’s important that milord and milady know about that. If any questions ever arise from that, they can help.”

If any questions arose from that, the Kanjou Commission would be the last thing you would have to worry about. But Thoma’s concern was not unexpected.

“I’ll talk to her about that as soon as the festival is over.”

“Thank you.” Relief shone through Thoma’s smile, but only briefly. “Coming back to Inazuma must have been hard for you.”

You did not answer. It seemed pointless to. Moreover, silence allowed you to better prepare for the inevitable question that followed.

“Why did you decide to come back?”

Your fingers tightened around the teacup but did not bring it to your lips. That was a question you had pondered before. For Hitomi, but also for yourself.

You went back because Baptiste had ordered you to. Because you could not argue your way out of that one, not after having taken the fall for the operation in Snezhnaya. No. Snezhnaya had been an excuse. Baptiste would have made you go back even if that Harbinger had never seen you. Because you looked Inazuman, because you knew the language.

Because you were too damn weak to fight against it.

And so was Hitomi.

“My foster father is… very different from how I remember my actual dads were. He has a winery back in Fontaine. It wasn’t very big at first. It couldn’t compete against older, stronger businesses. So he changed his strategy. He would get dirt on other producers, sometimes sabotage them, run them out of their businesses. Collect trade secrets from other wineries.”

You offered Thoma a smile, but you could feel the acridity in it. You had dug yourself too deep in this one, it would be impossible to come out clean. The best you could do was take a lesser, calculated risk.

“Remember when I said I went around doing odd jobs? Basically, I did whatever my foster father asked of me. Advertising, trying to sell wine… and sometimes distracting people while he went through the backdoor. Keeping my ears up for anything that might be useful. It was… not fun. But I did it.”

You paused, waiting for Thoma to express some kind of surprise. Disgust. He did not. You continued.

“He made me come to Inazuma. Wanted me to scout the liquor market here, get a good word in for him, maybe learn a few secrets. Honestly, I feel like he had been preparing me for that all my life. Inazuman classes, never letting me forget- Well. Joke’s on him. When I got here and realized how far I was from him and from everything he could do to me, I bolted. I stopped replying to his letters, moved out of Ritou, and disappeared. I tried to find a stable job, something he could not take away from me. And now… new life, I guess. There is nothing left for me in Fontaine. Not sure if it's wise for me to go back. So… I’m here.”

Your shoulders rolled, stiff and mechanical. As was the line of your mouth, so strained that you did not know how to name it. It was a string of lies, like so many others you had weaved throughout your life. One of the most complex ones, perhaps, but you had been careful. At this point, it was easy as breathing.

Yet, each second of Thoma’s silence weighed down in your throat, blocking the air. Hitomi’s story was nothing like yours. It was much simpler, much more innocent. If Thoma could not justify Hitomi’s actions, what would he think of you?

Nothing – he could never think anything of you, he could never know, would never know. And if he ever did, all he would see was a soul mired in perversion. His opinion of Hitomi did not matter. It would never change his opinion of you.

As the silence stretched, you thought perhaps you had misjudged your strategy. Loyalty and devotion ran in Thoma’s veins thicker than his own blood. And you had just admitted to having betrayed your imaginary foster father. If you had done that to him, who was to say you would not ditch the Kamisatos as well? You needed to say something, salvage the situation somehow.

The light touch of fingertips over your knuckles almost caused you to yank your hands back. You caught yourself at the very last moment. Thoma’s eyes bore into your own.

“I’m sorry. What he did to you was not fair.”

“I did it myself.” The words escaped you before you knew it, and you wanted to scream. You should not be fueling Thoma’s mistrust. But his prompt acceptance felt like a trap.

“You did not have a choice. Not really,” he insisted. His hand moved further over yours, intertwining your fingers. “You were a kid, and he didn’t treat you like family.”

“Well, that is debatable-”

“Hitomi. Did he care about you, really? Like your Papa and your Oton did?”

Against your will, your mind turned to Baptiste. Baptiste, who promised to take you home in exchange for saving his life when his former gang turned on him. Who had given you food, shelter, and taught you how to survive in a world of shadows. Who had bought you a birthday cake every year.

Who had told you that you were to blame for the Snezhnaya fiasco because you shouldn’t have trusted Sylvain and Karina to get you out on time. Who had forced you to go back to Inazuma.

Thoma wasn’t asking about Baptiste. So you said, “No. He didn’t.”

“You didn’t deserve that.”

A squeeze on your hand. A pebble to your chest. “Thanks.”

You watched in confusion as Thoma’s other hand rose and approached your face. Carefully, almost fearfully, he brushed a thumb against your cheek, and you felt moisture on your skin.

“We should get to bed.”

He nodded, removing his hands from you. “Go, I’ll wash the cups. I readied a room for you, second door to the right.”

You got down from the chair and slipped wordlessly into the hallway. By all accounts, you had succeeded. Managed to slither your way out of a disastrous situation and gained even more sympathy from Thoma. That was good for the job. It was good for you. You kept telling yourself that until you fell asleep.

Though you had missed the first two concerts, you knew that the Biwa Music Festival was going superbly. Amakane Island was packed. Inazumans were barely even aware of what rock’n’roll was, or of Xinyan’s fame, and yet the public on the island could rival that attending the most contentious trials at the Opera Epiclese.

Yoimiya moved with difficulty across the crowd, shouting a series of “Excuse me! Coming through! Dangerous explosives, step away!” while trying to get to the backstage as quickly as possible. You followed her, juggling two heavy crates. You had finished the fireworks just after lunch, eliciting a round of applause from Anna and other nearby shop owners who had been following your plight since the previous day. The Arataki Gang wasted no time in thanking their loyal audience for the support and reminding all that their services were available to the highest bidder. You could not help thinking that they might do well in the Court of Fontaine.

Eventually, the Gang had absconded with the promise of meeting you at the concert. Thoma had headed to the Kamisato Estate to tell Ayaka the good news and help her with any outstanding matters. You had stayed behind to assist Yoimiya in transporting the fireworks to the venue.

The two of you reached the backstage unscathed, though you did have to hiss to a couple who refused to move despite Yoimiya’s gentle pleas. A woman in a traditional Liyuean attire sat there, hands tightened into fists, murmuring words of encouragement to herself – probably Mingxia, the first performer of the night. Just a bit further ahead, two figures dressed in tones of red conversed. One of them noticed you.

“Hitomi! Come here a sec!” Thoma called, beaming at you. Beside him, a face you had only seen before in posters.

Xinyan’s fiery golden eyes widened in your direction. “Oho, so this is the friend you were telling me about?”

You could swear your heart stopped beating for a second. Xinyan was looking at you. Xinyan knew who you were. Or who Hitomi was. Same difference.

“That’s her!” Thoma confirmed. Your eyes darted between them like a malfunctioning meka fish, unable to decide where to focus. Fortunately, Xinyan spared you of your own awkwardness, grabbing your hand and shaking it fiercely.

“Thoma told me that you were the hero who saved the fireworks for my show! Can’t thank you enough for that!”

Your tongue suddenly seemed to weigh ten times more as you struggled to form words. “I mean- I- It was a team effort.”

“It was, but without Hitomi we wouldn’t have gotten the ore we needed for the special fireworks,” Thoma clarified. He shot you an amused smile, which did not help the rising temperature you felt on your cheeks.

“Really? Oh boy, I hope I can make the show worth it for you!”

“I’m sure you will. Hitomi is quite a fan of yours.”

“Heh?!”

Archons, you would kill him. But later, when Xinyan was not staring at you with such gleeful surprise. Finally, you managed to swallow down the knot in your throat and the words rushed out.

“Your music is truly inspiring. The way you talk about prejudice and how respecting traditions should not mean blind conformity… And about fighting just to follow your own beat, even when no one cares to listen. It resonates with so many people. You are the voice of a generation.”

To your own surprise, Xinyan immediately flushed. Maybe you had laid it on too thick, even if you had meant every word. But before you could retract yourself, Xinyan had gripped you by the shoulders.

“You really mean that? That’s- that’s high praise! Wow! It’s getting me fired up!”

“I am happy that you have all met.”

Ayaka’s voice was like the sun breaking through storm clouds, calming your tumultuous heartbeat. Xinyan promptly let go of you and waved.

“Hey, Miss Kamisato! Are we about to begin?”

“Yes. Are the fireworks ready, Yoimiya?”

“Affirmative!” the pyrotechnician saluted.

Ayaka’s eyes hovered over each of you, giving off a warmth that conveyed more than a thousand words of gratitude. “Please, take your positions.”

You, Thoma, and Yoimiya ran to the front of the stage, finding a spot near it just as Ayaka took its center. The bustling crowd fell silent at the sight of the Shirasagi Himegimi, allowing her voice to carry even in the absence of a microphone.

“Twenty years ago, it took one week and a half for ships sailing from Ritou to reach Liyue Harbor. Today, this can be done in four days.

“We all search for connection. For friendship. The Biwa Music Festival was born from these aspirations. I hope that the music you’ve been hearing these past few days, and that you will hear tonight, will continue to strengthen those connections.”

The first performer took the stage amidst the thunderous applause that accompanied the Shirasagi Himegimi’s exit. Mingxia’s previous nervous countenance long shed and replaced by a relaxed gait. A band of three carrying a huapengu, a pipa, and a dizi followed, standing further in the back. Mingxia flexed her knees, gave the crowd a once-over, and immediately let out a string of barely intelligible words in Common as the players started a fast-paced jam. You could only guffaw at the collection of jaws dropping among the audience. Apparently, most of them had no idea Mingxia was a rapper. And a good one, at that.

Quickly enough, though, the crowd recovered and began moving in the rhythm of the songs. Some even tried to accompany some of the lyrics and, the more they failed, the more fun they seemed to be having. It was not a style people were used to associate with Liyue, but it was a perfect complement for Xinyan. As Mingxia’s show reached its peak and the first of Yoimiya’s fireworks filled the sky, your own anticipation for the rocker’s performance was on the verge of exploding. Finally, Mingxia took the final bow and Xinyan climbed up on the stage.

“’Sup, Inazuma! How you feelin’ tonight?”

The answer came in the form of a cacophony of electrified shouts. One of them was aimed right at your ear as a muscly arm wrapped around your neck and pulled you closer. For once, you were not disturbed by Itto’s raucous arrival. You let yourself fall into the same rhythm as him, jumping and throwing punches in the air, infected by the first chords of Xinyan’s guitar. The other members of the Arataki Gang quickly joined the fray, and even Shinobu looked more relaxed than you had ever seen her, even if her obvious smile was still hidden behind her mask.

You knew Xinyan’s songs by heart, every change of chord, every picking up of the pace. Yet, there was something new and surprising about seeing her there, basking in her energy. You were not the only one to feel it. All around you, Inazumans and outlanders alike swayed to the tune, beamed when a particularly pungent section of the lyrics arrived. Arms wrapped around each other as they jumped in synchrony, a sight that, only weeks ago, seemed impossible.

Yoimiya danced around your group, grabbing each one’s hand and pulling each in for a twirl before moving on to the next person. You hooted when your time came, feet spinning until you bumped into another body.

The sound of Thoma’s laughter seemed louder than the music itself, enveloping you in a rhythm of its own. His movements were surprisingly ill-timed for someone as controlled as the Kamisato’s Chief Retainer, as if he were chasing a fly that always moved too fast for him to catch. You felt the corners of your eyes crinkle as you guffawed.

“I thought Mondstadters were supposed to know how to dance!” you yelled, leaning closer so he could catch your words.

“I know how! I just don’t know well!” was his simple reply, eliciting another roar from both of you.

With a shake of your head, you took Thoma’s hands in a loose hold. He stiffened for a second, shooting you a confused glance before you started moving, adjusting them to the correct pace. Thoma followed your lead, still in awkward steps, but a significant improvement nonetheless. You guided him as freely as you could, dancing together, but not quite as a pair. Even so, you could feel his eyes on you at all times.

“What a blast! Y’know, there are many people to whom I owe my show here today,” Xinyan announced as her guitar solo died down. “Miss Kamisato and the Yashiro Commission, Thoma, Yoimiya, the Arataki Gang-”

“ARATAKI RULES!” Itto screamed, earning a chorus of shushes from the nearby crowd.

“-and all of you here. But the next song I would like to dedicate to my new friend, Hitomi.”

Xinyan’s eyes found you in the crowd, especially as Itto started howling and pointing in your direction. You were pinned into place, unable to look away as Xinyan lifted a finger towards you. “Hitomi, you’ve got rock in your soul. I can feel it!”

And with that, a new sequence of chords started, one that was unfamiliar to you. Then came lyrics you did not know the words to. A new song, launched across the wind and dedicated to your person.

Fireworks launched into the sky, the noctilucous jade mix burning away in a shower of iridescent golds and reds. Different figures popped above the stage – music notes, glaze lilies, stars. Even as their glow died down, they still burned brightly in your mind. A song that you did not know the name of completed the memory. As did an embrace you did not want to pull away from.

Chapter Text

The first words you ever heard from Elke would define your relationship for the rest of your lives.

“You didn’t tell me you ran a kindergarten. I’m out.”

You lifted your head from the notebook where you were drawing the aquabus central station. Your next target worked there, and Baptiste had told you to try visualizing the place beforehand, all of its ways in and out. The drawing ended up with a series of addenda and wobbly arrows indicating something you had forgotten to draw.

A woman stood in the corner of the room, next to the door. Her back was turned to you, providing a view of dark brown hair pulled tight into a braided bun. Even without seeing her face, you knew you had never seen the woman before. Probably another of Baptiste’s associates; they did come to the headquarters from time to time. The Croque-mitaine himself was also there, leaning against the doorframe in a way that blocked the passage.

“My dear Captain, you should know that good contributors come in all sizes and ages.”

“If I wanted to work with snotty kids, I would have joined the Fatui. Pretty sure they have dental.”

“You said the profile we gave you of Madame Creuzec last week had been useful. Guess who compiled that information.”

The woman did not reply. After a few seconds of silence, she turned to you, who by then had given up on your sketch. The lines on the woman’s brow were so pronounced it was as if they had been tattooed over her skin.

You straightened your back, determined to bury any doubts the woman might have about your capacity. After all, you had just turned nine. You were no longer a kid.

The woman’s only reaction was to click her tongue. When she spoke, though her eyes were still on you, it was like she was looking past you. “I see the point of training them from a young age, Amegrise. But not of trusting them with actual jobs. We need people who will pay attention to the smallest details, even if they seem irrelevant. I’m talking what kind of tea the target drinks every morning, what kind of shoes they wear.”

“And we have them,” Baptiste drawled, his easy smile unaffected by the woman’s hardness. “Let’s continue this in my office, shall we? Ma puce, keep working.”

You lowered your head and did as you were told.

Weeks later, you were summoned to the room the woman now occupied. You refused to call it Elke’s office, if only out of pettiness. Elke barely acknowledged your presence, eyes fixed on a green file. You recognized it as the report you had delivered on Grosley, an aquabus guide.

Elke turned a page and showed it to you.

“Do you think this is funny?”

On the page, you recognized your own handwriting. “Favorite tea: tangerine. Shoes: high ankle boots, size medium, dark in color, worn out, do not match the rest of his outfit well. Visit to Chioriya recommended.”

You bit your lips in a badly concealed effort to contain a giggle. “Hilarious,” you answered.

Elke did not share the humor, but neither did her frown deepen. Instead, she simply stared at you with a blank expression that you could not decipher. You hated it. You wanted to mimic it.

Finally, Elke spoke. “From now on, you are no longer a child. Understood?”

You nodded, clenching your jaw to prevent a grin from sprouting. Even so, your eyes sparkled with pride.

“You’re reading way too much into this.”

“And you’re not reading enough!” Thoma splayed the manga on the table and pointed to one of the figures in the background of a panel. “If this were not an important character, why would they have been drawn in so much detail?”

You blew the steam rising from your coffee, unimpressed. “It is one thing to say this is an important character. It is another to assume this is Shoki’s lost brother. Which is supposed to be in the Cosmic Fortress, mind you.”

“But the clothes-”

“Are just like those of anyone in the Subarashī Hyōkō Kingdom.”

It was the third time Thoma tried to convince you of an elaborate but baseless theory since you had borrowed his copy of Kumono Shoki and the Seven Talismans. You had known Thoma had a soft spot for stories involving the supernatural but hadn’t expected him to become so engrossed in them.

Or to have some theories of your own.

“It’s more likely that his brother is the guard that led the pirates in. His left hand was covered by a glove, it was probably hiding the mark.”

He gasped and bumped a fist into his open palm as though you had just made a groundbreaking discovery. “You’re right! That guy surely is hiding something!”

“Thoma? Hitomi?”

Ayaka’s voice rang like a bell across your discussion, light and melodious, announcing her arrival.

With the Biwa Music Festival officially over and labeled as a major success by the word on the streets, there was a distinctive freshness to the air around the Kamisato Estate. The way Ayaka carried herself, though always elegant, seemed to have become more fluid the past few days. The burdens on her shoulders would never ease entirely, not when they had been thoroughly attached at birth. But they had been eased, and it showed.

As she entered the kitchen, however, there was a hint of a tremor in Ayaka’s smile, and it didn’t fade even when she saw that her retainers were once again arguing about Kumono Shoki. Her eyes searched for Thoma’s, a silent question hanging in them that the retainer answered with a light smile.

“Is it time yet, milady?”

That was the day Thoma was going to accompany Ayaka to see the Favonius Cavalry Captain. The day Thoma was going to discuss his mother’s will. And although his smile was clearly an attempt to reassure Ayaka, it was not as empty as it had been previously. A nervous resolution shone through.

The tremor in Ayaka’s lips subsided.

“Hitomi, Madarame will be in Ritou to assist you. Do you need help with anything else?”

“Don’t worry, milady, I’ve got it covered,” you grinned and twiddled a folded piece of paper between your fingers – a checklist of all you and Madarame needed to go through in preparing the Fontainian delegation’s departure from Inazuma. Send-off gifts, safety checks, and outstanding taxes for visa extensions, all accounted for. Fontaine would be the first delegation to leave, with Liyue and Mondstadt following the day after.

“Thank you, Hitomi. I will meet you there before they board.”

Ayaka turned to leave the kitchen and, as Thoma followed suit, you grabbed his arm.

“Hey.” You gave it a squeeze before you stopped to think about it. “Good luck.”

The smile he sent your way was different from the one before. Smaller, more confident. He took your hand and squeezed it as well.

“I’ll let you know how it went.”

You found yourself surprisingly thankful for Madarame’s presence. He had an eye for detail when it came to administrative matters that rivaled your own and was more than happy to argue with the Kanjou officials over the amount owed for the Fontainians’ three-day visa extension. That left you with the less boring tasks of going over the ship’s last safety inspection and supervising the ship’s loading. Less boring, but still not interesting. About a dozen sailors and dockworkers swarmed the ship, transporting boxes and suitcases, tying ropes, counting supplies, and, above all, shouting at each other.

Nothing seemed amiss until you saw the kid with an oversized cap standing around the harbor, pretending to skip stones on the water. Pretending because the kid was failing miserably, and you knew Anaïs was more than capable of skipping stones.

You approached Anaïs with a calculated careless stride. Upon closer inspection, the scab on her elbow had disappeared and no trace of the wound remained. For it to have healed so well and quickly, it had to have been the work of a Vision wielder. You wanted to ask Anaïs about it, but noticed that the girl was still biting her lip. You let her speak first.

“I have to report everything to you, right?” Anaïs asked in a whisper. Despite the alarm that had started to ring in your chest, you kept her tone and countenance casual, not looking directly at Anaïs.

“Yep.”

“Even the things Sylvain does?”

“Did he ask you not to tell me something?”

“No.”

“Then spit it out.”

Anaïs pursed her lips and stole a quick glance towards the ship.

“The guy with the red scarf does not work here.”

You yawned and stretched your arms, eyes hovering lazily across the harbor. You identified the man Anaïs had mentioned. He was just boarding the ship.

“Who is he?”

“I don’t know, but I saw Sylvain talking to him this morning.”

“Did he tell you why? Said anything?”

“No.”

At one point in time, you might have considered the possibility of a coincidence or, worse, that you should trust Sylvain, even if he had not talked to you. You were well past that point.

“Um, got it. Keep an eye on the guy for me, alright? Be back soon.”

With a grin as wide as you could muster, you boarded the ship, looking intensively around and nodding appreciatively to every worker you came across.

“Routine inspection. Don’t worry, you’re all doing wonderful. Hey, nice knot!”

The red scarf man was not cut out to work undercover. He looked over his shoulders too much, his eyes darted everywhere as he tiptoed around the deck, clearly looking for something. He pretended to tie a few knots, carry a crate, make himself useful, and the actual workers were too busy to notice or care. Watchful as he was, you could only follow him from the corner of your eye while feigning fascination about the formation of maritime currents, a topic the first mate had delved into after you had asked a question you did not even remember.

Two workers got on the ship, panting as they carried a large wooden plank, and the man took that opportunity to open a door and go below deck undisturbed. He was either searching for something or looking to hide something. Both options were troublesome. But there was one place where amateurs liked to hide and find hidden things.

You barely waited for the first mate to finish her sentence.

“Great, but what about supplies? Is the pantry well stocked?”

“Of course! We have even accounted for dietary-”

“Show me. It’s downstairs, right?” You were already walking towards the door, passing your anxiousness for impatience.

The first mate acquiesced, though not without some irritation. Your intuition proved sharp; the man was just exiting the pantry when you arrived. The first mate frowned at him.

“Have I seen you before?”

The man looked startled, opening his mouth and letting out a mumble before formulating a proper sentence.

“Uh- Just helping out at the docks, ma’am. Y’know. Brought in some- uh, Amakumo Fruit.”

The first mate was not concerned by his lack of eloquence. “Oh, I see. Thanks!”

During that short exchange, you made sure to keep your eyes on your own nails with the most bored expression you could muster. The man might have given you a powerful hint.

As soon as you entered the pantry, you located the crate overflowing with Amakumo Fruit and went for it. You ignored the cries of confusion from the first mate as you displaced the fruit, digging deeper into the crate for a sign of anything untoward. Like the round mechanical explosive device that now sat on your hand.

That man was really not cut out to work undercover.

You surreptitiously slipped the device into your pocket and, with the other hand, twirled an Amakumo Fruit. You turned to the first mate with a stern expression.

“Did you know that unripe Amakumo Fruit was the number one cause of liver swelling in the past year?”

The first mate blinked at you.

“And that this swelling has led to death in thirty-five percent of cases?” you pressed.

“Uh- no, I- the cook was certainly aware, we would not dare serving our passengers something unripe.”

You hummed and let your eyes flicker multiple times from the fruit to the first mate. When you thought you had made enough of an impression, you tossed the fruit to the first mate and warned, “Better get all of this checked before sailing. If someone gets sick because of the fruit, they can sue, and you know how Fontainians love litigation.”

The first mate could do little beyond grimacing and nodding rapidly. With that out of the way, you excused yourself and climbed back up to the deck.

Arming idiots was a dangerous game, and you could not understand why Sylvain was playing it. Or what he expected to accomplish by blowing up a ship carrying a group of Fontainian musicians. Did he plan to pin that on the Kamisatos somehow? Force them to act harshly to preserve their reputation? Because one thing was certain: any accident on that ship would be blamed on the Yashiro Commission, if not directly, then for their lack of oversight. Not to mention a potential diplomatic incident between Fontaine and Inazuma.

You were familiar with that kind of explosive device. It was not difficult to get one in Fontaine. That was not the most destructive model, but it could cause quite some damage and even deaths if people were too close. Or if it caused a hole on a ship in the middle of the ocean. Worse still, it could be detonated remotely. There was no way to know if the man planned to do that after the ship sailed or there, in the middle of the harbor.

Too many questions swirled in your mind with no immediate answer in sight. Yet, a decision was needed at once. You could trust Sylvain and leave the device, or do away with it and get the detonator from the man.

It was not a hard decision.

You distributed thumbs up among the workers and got off the ship, searching for Anaïs. The girl made herself seen and quietly pointed with her chin to the direction the man with the red scarf had presumably gone. You wasted no time following the lead, muttering a quick “Need to check something. You got this, right? Thanks,” without making sure that Madarame had heard.

You moved as quickly as you could without giving away your purpose. The man had at least been smart in choosing where to go, a commercial street bustling with people. After a few minutes, you located him.

You opted for a stealthy approach. Blending into the crowd, slowly and purposefully, until you reached the man. He was still too nervous, always stopping and looking around. Almost like a child after breaking their parents’ vase. You threw a rather large pebble in front of him and quickly moved to hide behind a wooden beam. As expected, he started, looking around for any sign of trouble, and patted a hand over his left pocket.

When the man turned to continue his way, you struck. Muted steps, a well-timed sleight of hand into that same pocket, and you were running your thumb over the detonator. You started to draw back, planning on tailing him a bit longer, when the man turned around abruptly. His eyes fell upon you and widened, surely recognizing you from the ship. A smirk spread across your lips. You spun on your heels and ran.

“What the- Wait!” the man yelled, finally realizing the absence of the detonator.

His shouts turned a few heads, but none of them found you, who had already slipped through the crowd into another street. You paused for a few seconds before continuing, making sure he would follow you.

You did not want to make a scene in the middle of Ritou. If the Fontainians caught word of the attempted attack, the Maison Gardiennage would be hearing about it soon enough. The last thing the recently reestablished relations between Inazuma and Fontaine needed was a scandal like this, the claim that Inazuma could not ensure the safety of their guests. Or that the Kamisatos could not do so. No, this matter should be handled discreetly, at last until the Kamisatos themselves had a chance to consider it.

You finally stopped upon reaching the beach at the northernmost outskirts of the city, a quiet place next to a small rocky cliff not far from the Hiiragi Estate. At that time of day, it was secluded enough. The smirk still played on your lips as you turned around to greet the breathless man.

“Can I help you with something?”

Predictably, the man did not find it funny. “Give it back. This is not some toy, it’s dangerous.”

“Oh, I know well what it is. Clockwork explosive, Fontainian fabrication, remote detonator. The question is, what were you planning to do with it?”

The man’s face started turning red and then stopped, eyes suddenly widening. “You’re that little outlander bootlicker from the Association.”

“Now, I’m not from the International Trade Association, you know-”

“No, you are from the Yashiro Commission. Those traitors.” The man opened his coat and took out a long, curved blade. “They are the reason the people are suffering. The reason why we, the Shugosha, must fight.”

You pulled your knives out. “So that means you’re not surrendering to justice?”

The man’s response came as a yell as he charged against you, sword aimed straight at your chest. You sidestepped easily but was surprised with the speed of his spin to take another slash at you. This time, you parried with a dagger, skidding a few steps back to recover from the impact.

Granted, he was a better swordsman than he was an undercover agent. His attacks came in a violent flurry, intent on overwhelming the enemy with their speed. If not all of them came close to you, he compensated by making sure you had no time to counterattack. No matter how fast You yourself were, eventually something would hit. And it did, a scrape against your forearm that, though not deep, stung madly. That gave the man confidence, and he swung down with greater force, causing a shower of sand to fly when you dodged.

You kept stepping backwards as fast as you could as the man built momentum with each blow. The unsteady sand below your feet soon gave way to grass, and you kept going until your heel tapped against a tree trunk. When the man thought he had cornered you, he aimed a thrust to your chest, only to have you drop to the ground and roll out of the way. You heard the sound of tree bark being crushed and an irate groan and knew your plan had succeeded.

You jumped to your feet behind the man and, before he could pull the sword out, stabbed the dagger into his side, just above his hip. He cried out in pain and released the grip on the sword, which allowed you to swing another slash across his stomach. You kicked him behind the knees and, once he was on the ground, jumped on top of him and pressed a dagger against his neck. The man’s snarl evaporated into an expression of panic that became more evident the more he tried to control it.

“You don’t know what you’re doing. We’re fighting for Inazuma.”

You sighed and pressed the dagger harder onto his skin. “That’s great, pal. Just save your breath for the Tenryou Commission, alright?”

The man’s reply was muffled by the loud sound of a shot. You instinctively brought a hand to your ear, wincing at the noise. When you looked at the man again, his eyes were glassy and a trickle of blood ran down his forehead from a bullet hole.

The corners of your vision were tinged red as you jumped to your feet and spun around, your blade expertly finding its place but a centimeter away from Sylvain’s neck. His saccharine smile did not waver for a second.

“Rough day, marmotte?”

“What by Foçalors’ ass do you think you’re doing?” you hissed, keeping the knife in place. Sylvain shrugged, disrupting the smoke still wafting from his gun. It was a simpler model, you noticed. Not the one he usually paired with his Hydro bullets.

“Couldn’t risk having the guy tattle on the movement. I mean, I used a disguise, so I was fine, but I bet the others wouldn’t be happy.”

The nonchalant tone of his voice only made your rage boil hotter. “You’re aligning us with the Shugosha? Is that the networking the Croque-mitaine ordered?”

“Of course he doesn’t know about them yet, this was a test run. Pretty successful, if I may say so myself.”

“How is this successful?” You pulled the explosive from your pocket, all but shoving it on Sylvain’s face. “Killing random people? Fontainians? Without even giving me a warning?”

“Please, you were never in danger. If you think about it, you’ll see that I did it so all the outcomes would be favorable to you.” He ignored your flabbergasted huff. “If you found out about the explosive and managed to stop him, as you did – and I was counting on Anaïs to go running to snitch on my activities to you –, then you got to be a hero and gain even more trust from the Kamisatos. Ta-da! Congratulations.”

That frail disguise of logic did nothing to quell the fire in the pit of your stomach. “And if I didn’t?”

“Then the Kamisatos would have a security and diplomatic crisis in their hands, and they would be too busy resolving it to pay attention to your snooping around. Win-win.”

“Never thought that I might well have been in the ship when it exploded?”

“Oh, come on, marmotte, I trust your survival instincts. You’ve made it this far, right? Also, can you lower the knife? It’s getting itchy.”

You put your daggers away without taking your eyes off Sylvain. You tried not to think of what would have happened had Anaïs not reached you on time. Of Gigi Gassion’s fractured skull or the corpses of the members of A Pirates’ Heart sinking into the ocean. Collateral damage was often inevitable. You could not believe that was the case.

“I can’t believe the Shugosha accepted arms from an outlander.”

“No ideology is immune to the ‘enemy of my enemy’ logic. As long as our goals align, they’re willing to overlook my dashing Fontainian features.”

“Our goals do not align,” you countered sternly. “They are racist fanatics, long-term cooperation is inviable. We shouldn’t waste our time with them.”

“Then it is a blessing that the Croque-mitaine put me in charge of this, so you don’t have to waste time with anything other than keeping that little housekeeper entertained. Great job on that, by the way.”

As blatant as that diversion was, you could not help but bristle at the mention of Thoma. You tried to shrug it off, focus on the more pressing matter of the Shugosha, but Sylvain refused to let you.

“Have you slept with him yet?”

“Are you high on Sinthe?” your voice cracked, loud and high-pitched, and you almost took your knives out again. Sylvain laughed derisively.

“Come on, I saw the way he acted around you during the festival. Not what I had in mind when I said to get rid of him but hey, whatever works.”

“I am not laying a honeytrap.”

“You could.”

You could. It was part of your skillset, even if you found honeytraps often more troublesome than they were worth. The job took priority. If an opportunity for that arose, you should take it.

Your stomach churned at the thought.

“I cannot.” You took a deep breath, putting the flurry of words in your mind in order before speaking. “It wouldn’t work. Thoma’s loyalties to the Kamisatos run much deeper than that. If anything, it would rouse suspicion.”

“Uhm, if you say so.” Sylvain mused, clearly unconvinced. His eyes trailed down to the corpse next to you as if he had just then remembered that it was there. It occurred to you that you did not know his name.

“Well, I should get the doushin sent your way now so you can play hero. Get into character, marmotte.”

“Sylvain,” you called, stopping him before he walked away. Sylvain turned to you and, if anything, his smirk widened upon seeing the venom in your eyes. “Don’t you ever get in the way of my work again.”

“And don’t you get in the way of mine,” was the merry retort.

Deprived of Sylvain’s company, the waves hitting the shore offered little distraction from the nausea building up in your stomach. The corpse was too far for the blood to taint the water. Instead, it seeped into the grass, creating a sickening yet familiar shade of brown.

The doushin did not take long to arrive, nor to start bombarding you with questions. You feigned shock to keep your answers as broad as you could, and constantly asked for Ayaka. The doushin eventually complied, seeing in you a terrified retainer seeking reassurance from your master. In truth, you did not want to give them any information without a Kamisato present to listen and, if necessary, moderate your answers.

At that hour, Ayaka and Thoma had already been on their way to the harbor, so it had been easy for the doushin to find her. She and Thoma approached in controlled steps – not fast enough to seem distressed under the public eye, not slow enough that you could not feel their concern. Thoma’s eyes scanned over you, meticulously searching for any sign of injury and relaxing slightly when all they could find was the dried smidge of blood on your forearm.

Through shivers and chipped sentences, you told them that you had noticed the suspicious man moving about the ship hired to take the Fontainians to Port Ormos, from where they would continue their trip. That you had found the explosive and followed the man. That you had fought. That someone had shot him from afar after you had incapacitated him. That the shooter had his face covered but you had seen a bit of what seemed to be dark brown hair peeking through.

“Bullets like this are not common in Inazuma. And since the device is of Fontainian manufacture… Someone from Fontaine is probably involved, or they are receiving supplies from there,” one of the doushin mused, scribbling everything you said on a notepad.

“That is odd, though. Would the Shugosha really be involved with outlanders?” another doushin countered. He narrowed his eyes at you. “And why would they shoot one of their own instead of you?”

Your eyes widened and your lip trembled. “I-I don’t know! It was all so quick- the guy was about to tell me who his supplier was, and then the shot came.”

“The shooter probably considered that getting rid of a snitch was a priority,” the first doushin supplied. “And then if he stayed longer she could attack him as well or risk recognizing him.”

The second doushin nodded, seemingly convinced by the explanation. Funny how it tended to be easier for you when they tried to be smart.

“We need to inspect the ship and talk to this first mate she mentioned.”

That was Ayaka’s cue to shine. The Yashiro Commission could not, of course, interfere with the Tenryou Commission’s work. Nonetheless, no mere official would dare simply neglect the concerns of one of Inazuma’s major clans. Especially if voiced by the Shirasagi Himegimi.

“Thank you very much for your prompt work, officers,” Ayaka said with a small smile. Then, the corners of her lips dropped and a note of worry crept into her tone. “This is a highly grave matter indeed. I fear that Fontaine will seek to interfere upon learning that such high-profile musicians were targeted.”

“Don’t worry, Miss Kamisato!” The first doushin immediately replied. “We will brief Madam Kujou immediately to get further instructions on how to proceed in this delicate matter. But rest assured, our investigation should be discreet so as to avoid panic.”

And with that, damage control was done. Ayaka smiled, thanked the doushin once again, and led her retainers away from the scene. Once you were away from the eyes and ears of the Tenryou officers, her countenance shifted. Shoulders dropped slightly, the smile grew even smaller. But it was still the Shirasagi Himegimi who regarded you, a figure that you now found so dissimilar to the Ayaka you had seen that morning.

“Thank you for calling us, Hitomi. This is a delicate matter and that should be treaded carefully. It was naïve of me to mistake the Shugosha’s silence during the festival as a reduction of their activities.”

“You could not have foreseen that, milady,” Thoma interjected gravely. “Especially as it seems they now have new partners.”

Your jaw clenched, but no one seemed to notice.

“Brother must know about this as soon as possible. We need to think of the best way to anticipate their next moves. Moreover, we need to present a justification to delay the departure of the ship today.”

“I can deal with that,” you offered. “I’ll say I found some issues during the inspection.”

You saw Ayaka hesitate. “That would be helpful. But I am reticent to leave you to deal with this alone with a shooter on the loose.”

“No need to worry about that, milady, I’ll have my guard up.”

“Even so, I could go with you,” Thoma proposed and then added, turning to Ayaka. “Or have someone from the Shuumatsuban monitor from afar. What do you think, milady?”

Ayaka thought about your options for a moment. “It is important that we keep a close eye on the ships that are set to depart tomorrow as well. Thoma, Hitomi, if you can do this together and spend the night in Ritou while I discuss this issue with Brother, that would be ideal.”

And so it was settled.

As expected, you found no further mishaps in handling your tasks. The musicians had not been bothered by the postponement of the trip when you explained that some errors in the ship’s documentation required a little more time for the Kanjou Commission to correct, and the first mate had only paled and nodded when you requested her to replace the entire Amakumo Fruit stock before being free to set sail. Anaïs was long gone from the harbor, but you could feel watchful eyes on your back. You were sure they were not from Anaïs.

The sun had begun to set down when the last of the crew left the harbor, frustrated by the turn of events, but unwilling to openly complain before retainers of the Kamisato Clan. As soon as you were alone, Thoma’s attention turned to you in full.

“How are you feeling?”

You shrugged. “It was just a scratch.”

“Not about that. It was a close call, you could have been seriously hurt.”

“Not my first dance,” you replied simply and, before Thoma could probe further, asked, “How was the meeting?”

Thoma stilled at the question but slowly allowed his muscles to relax. A visible effort. He still did it.

“It was good. Hard, but good. Captain Alberich was very patient. We went through the will – there wasn’t much on it, just the old apartment where I grew up. I want to go to Mondstadt to check on it, but not now. So I asked Captain Alberich to represent me during the court proceedings.”

“That is good,” you agreed, and watched as his features further softened.

“Yeah. I still haven’t read the letter she left me.”

“But you already did a lot today.”

“I guess I did.” And his smile told you more than his words did. A tinge of sorrow lingered, but it was accompanied by a lightness that, a week prior, seemed impossible. The weight of absence was something that could never be lifted. But he was learning not to be crushed by it.

You headed to the same inn where you had spent the night in your first errand together in Ritou. It felt like ages ago, and yet the sparkle in Mr. Tomura’s eyes was familiar in a way that lit a flare in your ribcage.

“Welcome, Thoma! And Hitomi, was it? Spending the night in Ritou again?”

“Yes. Two rooms, please.”

“Well, let’s see what we have available…”

Before the innkeeper could open his book, you leaned over the counter, face inches from his.

“If you come up with that one room, one bed bullshit again, I swear you will spend the night screaming.”

“Of fun, of course!” Thoma added nervously, putting his hands on your shoulders in an attempt to drag your away in the most discreet way possible. Which was not discreet at all. Mr. Tomura, to his credit, remained unfazed.

“Of course, of course! There you go. Two keys for two bedrooms. Though, if you ask me, it is quite chilly tonight, and the blankets might not be enou-”

The rest of his sentence was cut off by the sound of your stomping the floorboards as you climbed up the stairs. You heard Mr. Tomura’s hearty laugh and Thoma’s own choked snort before you scuttered into your room.

The stillness of the night was supposed to have been a balm after such a hectic day. However, it only amplified the cacophony of your own mind. The conversation with Sylvain replayed incessantly, interrupted by Baptiste’s own voice with fragments of the lessons he had taught you over the years. Sylvain’s approach was too risky and for too little return. A year ago, you were certain the Croque-mitaine would have condemned it. Now, you wondered.

The more you tried to shove those thoughts away, the more insistent they became. Sleep eluded you completely, and your complaining bones could do nothing about it.

You could have a message delivered to Bapsite. Explain why the Shugosha should not be considered a potential partner. He would listen to you. He would have. Years ago, in a heartbeat. He would have trusted your assessment, put Sylvain back in his place. He would not anymore – when had that changed? When had Sylvain climbed so high that your words could no longer knock him down?

In the darkness behind your closed eyelids, a deep blue glow materialized and a voice sounded, clear as if he were before you. “You lack ambition, marmotte.” Anger surged in your chest, tainted by another poisonous feeling that you refused to name. Before it could clench around your heart, it was interrupted.

A creaking sound reached you, a door being opened.

You sat up, your thoughts quieting at once as you sharpened your senses. Given how clearly the sound had reached you, it had to be from one of the neighboring rooms. You then heard footsteps, light but deliberate, walking towards your door. And you recognized them, if only because you had gotten used to hearing them in the early mornings around the Kamisato Estate.

Thoma stood on the other side of your door, but no knock or attempt to open it came. Instead, it seemed he was just standing there.

Anxiety nagged at your chest. Could you have been mistaken and it was someone else? If not, was Thoma trying to spy on you? Could an ember of suspicion have arisen after the day’s events? The situation merited caution, and so you took out your daggers from under the pillow and silently tiptoed to the door. You yanked it open, ready to attack if necessary. Your only achievement was to give Thoma a heart attack.

“Do you always step out ready to kill?” he asked breathlessly, putting a hand over his chest.

“Do you always sneak up behind other people’s doors in the middle of the night?” you shot back. You turned around and put the daggers down by the bedside table before returning to the door. “Sorry for the scare.”

Thoma sighed, his breathing finally slowing down. “No, I suppose you’re right. You can never be too careful.”

A pause. You took the moment to assess Thoma’s state. He had changed into his sleepwear and let his hair lose, falling messily around his shoulders. He stared at you, lips ever so slightly parted, as though his brain was still processing the words his mouth wanted to get out. You frowned; it was unlike Thoma to be so reticent, even so late at night.

“So, I’m assuming you wanted to talk to me for a reason?”

Thoma cleared his throat, suddenly avoiding your gaze. “Well, no- I mean, I don’t know. I hadn’t decided whether I was going to knock yet. I didn’t want to disturb you.”

You leaned against the doorframe and crossed your arms with a smirk. “Well, I’m already here. So what’s going on?”

“I…” He still refused to meet your gaze, which only increased your anxiousness. After what felt like an eternity, he looked up. His face did that thing you hated and never wanted to see again, where his lips were curved into a big smile and his eyes screamed for help. “It’s silly, really. I had a nightmare, and I got a bit nervous. It’s nothing to worry about. You should go back to sleep.”

Before Thoma could move away from the door, you caught his wrist. His eyes turned to you, wide.

“Don’t do that. It’s not silly.”

Then, before you had time to second-guess your instincts, you tugged Thoma’s hand and led him inside the room.

There was a small armchair at the corner. You motioned for him to take it while you sat on the bed.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Thoma closed his eyes and breathed in. “I don’t know. It sounds… stupid when I try to put it into words.”

 “Honestly, that’s just how all dreams are. Don’t go thinking you’re special.” That plucked a snicker out of him. You suppressed a smile.

Thoma shut his eyes again. The pause lasted longer this time, and you could see he was struggling to decide his next words. You waited in silence, digging your fingernails into your palms. When Thoma finally spoke, he kept his eyes closed.

“During the Vision Hunt Decree, I almost lost my Vision. The Raiden Shogun came to collect it personally, but Lumine appeared at the last minute and saved me. After that, well, I was an outlaw. I had to stay hidden at Komore Teahouse. I was grounded there for months, until the Vision Hunt Decree was repealed.”

You nodded quietly. The story of how Thoma had been rescued from the 100^th Vision Hunt Ceremony by the intrepid Traveler was public knowledge around Inazuma. The details of what had happened to him afterwards were not.

“That must have been very hard.” Komore teahouse was not exactly small, but it was certainly not big enough for a comfortable period of house arrest. Then again, you doubted any place would ever be comfortable enough for that.

Thoma opened his eyes. “I keep dreaming I’m there, all alone. The war is over, I know I can go out any time I want. I want to go out, but- at the same time, I don’t. So I never open the door.” His lips curled up, more in snarl than smile. “I’ve been having this dream for months. And I know there are people outside who need me, there are things I need to do, but I never, never open the door.”

You were at a loss. You knew little to nothing about dreams, let alone how to interpret them.

“Do you… Uh, do you think you’re traumatized by the time you spent in hiding or something?”

You wanted to kick yourself for the clumsy phrasing. Do you think you’re traumatized- who asks that? But Thoma did not seem to hold your tactlessness against you.

“I wouldn’t say so. It was stressful, sure, but I had Taroumarou with me, Kozue made sure I never ran out of food, and Ayato and Ayaka would visit from time to time. When it was over, it was easy to go back to my routine.”

“And do you have any idea as to why you wouldn’t want to go out?”

He quieted, pondering the question. You watched the rise and fall of Thoma’s chest as he breathed, by then a multitude of half-moons covering your palms from where your nails had pressed. Even in the dim light, you could see the moment his shoulders stiffened as if bracing for impact. It was when he decided to speak.

“I guess… I’m afraid. I’m afraid of going out and seeing that things have changed.”

As he spoke, Thoma tilted his chin further and further down, as though he hoped to coil into himself and disappear. There was something uncomfortable in his gestures, a diffuse aura of embarrassment that you initially thought had to do with his discussing his nightmares with a coworker in the late hours of the night. It took the silent seconds that followed for you to understand its actual source.

Thoma knew very well what the dream meant. He just could not bring himself to say it.

“Thoma.” He did not look at you. “Thoma,” You tried again, a bit louder. All you got was a light shake of his head.

You slid off the bed to the floor, kneeling in front of Thoma and taking his hands into yours. His head shot up in surprise and you took the opportunity to catch his chin in your hand, preventing him from lowering it again. Against your expectations, he did not try to. Though apprehension still shone in his eyes, having a fixed point on which to focus seemed to help, halting the shifting of his pupils. So you held the verdant gaze as it bore into your own.

The words you had intended to say – “you know these dreams are about your mother, right?” – died in your throat. They now seemed out of place. Thoma knew. He did not need a reminder.

His voice barely lifted the silence. “I don’t want to lose anyone else. Ayato, Ayaka…” More quietly, he added, “you.”

You felt as if a pebble had hit your square on the chest, shockwaves rippling across her bones. He said it so effortlessly. Added your name to a list in which the other two were the people he held closest to his heart – his family. He had just admitted that he cared about you. Or, at the very least, that he did not want to lose your presence in his life. When had that happened?

It was not that you had not seen the progression. You had worked hard on earning Thoma’s trust. You had gone from barely veiled animosity and suspicions to a stable work relationship to… To…

To regular doses of banter. Bad cream drawings in coffee mugs. Discussions about manga. Listening to ghost stories. Skipping stones on the water.

Friends. You were friends. You knew. That had been the plan all along. He was Hitomi’s friend.

A bitter taste stole into your mouth.

Thoma seemed to mistake your silence for discomfort. After a while, he let out a sheepish chuckle and got up from the armchair, offering you a hand.

“Well, it was just a dream anyway. I’m sorry for disturbing your sleep. I’m going ba-”

“Stop.”

He halted, staring in confusion as you rose. You used the precious seconds of silence to put your thoughts in order. Thoma was clearly still shaken. You could not let him leave like that. But you had no idea what you could say to make it better. You were not used to being sought out for comfort in these kinds of situations. The only times that happened were when one of the twins had a nightmare and you told them-

“You’re sleeping here tonight.”

“What?”

You yourself could barely believe your words. It was one thing to tell that to the twins, they were children. This was Thoma, your coworker, someone who could alter your mood with a simple smile. Your friend, no, Hitomi’s friend, and you were not Hitomi but you could pretend you were, you had to, you shouldn’t, you would – you were.

You crossed your arms and put on your best look of obstinacy.

“You’re sleeping here. If you have the dream again, you can just wake me up and see that I’m here and everything is fine.”

“But there’s-”

He looked over to the bed. The only bed in the room. You could almost hear Mr. Tomura’s snickering. You steeled your face, fingernails digging into your forearms.

“There’s enough space for the two of us. It’s fine if you don’t want to,” you quickly added, “but you’re welcome to.”

Thoma swallowed hard. “If you’re sure…”

You were not. “I wouldn’t have offered if I weren’t. Come on.”

You crawled onto the left side of the bed and Thoma hesitantly took the right one. You kept your eyes glued to the ceiling and knew when he had joined you only from the shift of the mattress underneath.

Suddenly, the full consequences of that idea hit you. The bed was big enough to fit both of you without your having to touch, but just barely. You would still be close, too close. You would have to sleep with your back to him, otherwise you risked having his face be the first thing you saw when you woke up. And you were not sure how you would react to that.

“Hitomi.”

You started at Thoma’s soft call. Taking a deep breath, you turned to face the blond.

“Thank you. Really.”

There were many responses you wanted to give. You settled on this one. “If you hog my blanket, I will kick you so hard they will hear your screams all the way to Mondstadt.”

He snickered. “I doubt my lungs are that powerful.”

“Wanna test it out?”

A pause. Then, in one swift motion, Thoma snatched the blanket. Almost by instinct, you swung your leg, hitting Thoma’s shin as hard as you could.

“OUCH- Archons! You’re so mean to me, Hitomi!”

You were unmoved by the accusation. “You brought this upon yourself. I warned you.”

“You know,” he rubbed a hand against his shin, hissing theatrically, “I do think even Barbatos may have heard it.”

“Yes, and now he’s feeling the pain of his loyal subject.”

“He’s probably assembling the Four Winds right now to rescue me.”

“And tears are falling from that gigantic statue in front of the Church.”

Thoma blinked in surprise. “You’ve been to Mondstadt before?”

You cursed yourself. Another slip. You could say that you had only heard of the statue. But you had said it so confidently. Better to play with what you had.

“Yes. A few years ago. Just for a couple of months, to get to know the market. Don’t worry, I didn’t ruin Mondstadt’s wine industry or anything.”

It had actually been for four months. You had worked at a tavern called Angel’s Share and managed to smuggle some bottles of their premium wine collection to a Fontainian merchant who was trying to reproduce the recipe. That, and stolen a few useful storage instructions from Dawn Winery. At that time, the Ragnvindr heir was still missing. No one in Mondstadt had heard from him in years. From what you heard after his return, you knew that had made your job much easier.

“What was it like? Can you- can you tell me about it?” Thoma almost choked in his earnestness. You shrugged.

“It was nice. There was that tavern, Angel’s Share. They had some pretty good drinks, everyone in the city ended up there sooner or later. And there was this restaurant I liked, Good Hunter.”

“Was Matthias still in charge there?”

“No, it was a woman. Sara, I think.”

“Oh. I see.”

You did not miss the subtle disappointment in Thoma’s eyes. You tried to think of anyone else who might be in the same position as he remembered from his childhood.

“The Knights of Favonius are the same. Impressive headquarters. That Varka is really something. Always doing something around the city.”

Thoma chuckled. “You don’t know the half of it. He used to lead tours through the Knights’ headquarters with the city’s children. Not only to get them excited about joining, but so they could understand how the government works. He would sometimes make a pop quiz and whoever answered the question right was rewarded candy.”

“Did you go to these tours?”

“Of course! I was a model citizen, mind you. I always paid attention to his explanations.”

“You were just trying in for the candy, weren’t you?”

“Maybe. But I shared it with the other kids, I swear!”

You snorted. “I believe you, goody-two shoes.”

“What was your overall impression of the country?”

You paused, thinking. “People in Mondstadt are-” Careless. Naïve. Gullible. Those were all words that you had used when reporting to Baptiste at the time. But there, with Thoma, another adjective came to mind. "-genuine.”

Thoma frowned, a question in his eyes. You elaborated, eyes drifting to the ceiling.

“In the Court of Fontaine, it’s all about appearances. Putting on a show. The person who smiles at you is just as likely to scorn you as soon as you turn your back. Finding true friends takes a while. And even when you do… you can never be completely sure.” You closed your eyes and shook your head, directing your thoughts elsewhere. “In Mondstadt, it seemed simpler. No one cared about status or getting ahead of one another. Even if Barbatos is gone to Celestia knows where, they have this blind faith that, because of him, everything will turn out alright. So when they welcome you and let you into their midst it feels… real. Like they mean it.”

You turned your head towards Thoma. He had one hand underneath his pillow and the other in front of him, centimeters away from your shoulder. He nibbled on his bottom lip as though chewing on his words before they escaped his mouth.

“Things were hard for you in Fontaine, weren’t they?”

His voice was soft, almost as if he were afraid the question would hurt. But it was not a hard one. You shrugged nonchalantly. “They are hard everywhere. You just get used to it and carry on.”

“Is it hard here?”

You blinked. That was not a question you had been expecting.

The answer seemed obvious. Of course it was hard. For Archon’s sake, this was Inazuma. A ruthless land where the weak had no chance. Where your fathers had died and your aunt had abandoned you, where the worst chapter in the story of your life had begun.

It also was where the most beautiful fireworks in Teyvat sauntered into the sky from the hands of a woman whose grin shone just as brightly. Where a princess sharpened her sword and her wits every day to ensure her people would keep on smiling. Where an obnoxious oni was willing to call anyone his friend and risk life and limb for their sake. It was where you had learned to grow flowers, read manga, and to expect a warm smile greeting you every morning.

It was where Thoma was.

The hard part was the job. Stepping carefully, making sure no one knew why you had truly come back to the country. But when you thought about everything else…

“It is less so than I thought it would be,” you answered with finality.

Even in the darkness, you could see the corners of his lips stretching into a small smile.

“Still, I want to help make them easier.”

That was a ridiculous offer. As if Thoma could fit anything else in his schedule. As if everything he did were not already for the sake of others, for the sake of making everyone’s lives easier. Including yours.

The conversation was steering somewhere you did not want it to. You shifted on the mattress.

“We should get to sleep.”

Thoma nodded. A hand reached out to yours, giving it a quick squeeze before he retracted it.

“Good night, Hitomi.”

“’Night,” you whispered, and turned your back to him.

The next morning, consciousness came to you in the form of a stained-glass panel: in bits and pieces.

First, there was warmth. You felt it seeping through your skin, spreading across your bones, and gently guiding your breathing to a comfortable rhythm. Like lying under the sun in a lazy spring afternoon by the riverbank.

Then there was the sense of touch. You felt the blanket wrapped around you, its weight comfortably inviting you back to sleep, the fabric of the pillowcase against your cheek. And something around the lower half of your leg. Something warm; not uncomfortable, but not soft either.

It was mostly that foreign sensation that finally led your hesitant mind to cross the barrier between dream and reality. You groaned, reluctant to leave such a rare moment of peace. You hardly ever indulged in sleep anyway. Five more minutes would do you no harm. You grabbed the blanket and nuzzled into it.

That was when your head bumped into something hard. You frowned. The blanket also seemed thinner. An alarm went off in your head. You snapped your eyes open and were met with the sight of red fabric. The blanket was blue.

Memories of the previous night flooded your mind all at once. Oh, no. Oh, no.

You let go of Thoma’s nightshirt and moved your head back, away from his chest. In a rare stroke of luck, he was still fast asleep, unbothered by your shifting. But of course your luck was limited, because your right leg was entangled with both of his, trapping you into place. You then noticed that the blanket was not the only thing weighing you down; one of Thoma’s arms was draped around your side.

Gritting your teeth, you tried to slow down your breathing. You had to approach this rationally. You had unconsciously moved closer to one another during the night, that much was clear. No big deal. That could happen to anyone. You would disentangle yourself before he woke up and he would never have to know.

Still trying to breathe as silently as possible, you studied Thoma’s face. Yes, definitely still asleep. Good.

Against your sense of urgency, you allowed yourself to simply gaze upon Thoma for a moment. He looked much more relaxed than the night before, the bags under his eyes less pronounced. His lips were slightly parted, and you were close enough to feel the soft exhales tickling your own lips. A strand of hair fell messily over his eye, and you had to clench your fist to prevent yourself from tucking it behind his ear.

You could not help but think that was how he was supposed to look. Light, peaceful. Beautiful, even. A fleeting thought crossed your mind. That you would do anything to keep him like that.

Except you would not. Because you had a job to do. One that involved uncovering information that would likely bring about the downfall of the Kamisato Clan. Then you would sail back to Fontaine and never set foot in Inazuma again. That was how it was supposed to be. What you wanted.

Thoma shifted in bed, dislodging your leg. He yawned and stretched out the arm that was on you. You felt a pebble falling into the pit of your stomach as you realized that he was waking up.

Your body acted on instinct, giving your mind no time to catch up. You pushed yourself away and rolled to the left. Off the mattress.

Thus it was with the loud thud of a body crashing down that Thoma woke up. He sat up immediately, mind racing to make sense of his surroundings and of you lying face down on the floor, muttering a string of curses in what he could only assume was Fontainian.

“Hitomi! What happened? Are you okay?”

“Yep. All great. No worries,” you said quickly, turning your head to the door and hiding your face from Thoma’s worried gaze. You did not know if it was red from the fall or from the embarrassment, and you were not intent on explaining yourself to him.

“Did- did I push you out of bed? I’m so sorry-”

“Nope! You didn’t! I’m fine! I’m going to the bathroom. Er- Bye!”

Before he could say anything else, you jumped to your feet and scurried out of the room, banging the door in the process.

As soon as you were in the hallway, your legs decided they had already done too much for you that morning and gave in. You slid down to the floor at what seemed an agonizingly slow speed for your reeling mind. Your eyes darted around, finding no other movement in the hallway. You strained your ears, trying to catch some noise from the other rooms, to find anything that could distract you from the sound of the mattress shifting behind the door and Thoma’s muttered “Scheiße.” In your mind, you countered with, “Putain”.

Chapter Text

Baptiste had elevated tergiversation to an art form. But not that day.

“We’ve lost contact with Karina.”

The weight of those words settled in your guts like an anchor. You and Sylvain straightened your backs. Elke lowered the biscuit that had been centimeters away from her mouth.

“What happened?”

The Croque-mitaine continued to stand behind his chair, hands clenched around the top rail.

“We don’t know yet. Lamarque just came back and said she hasn’t been to the hideout in weeks.”

“Was she caught?”

“There isn’t even anything to be caught about!” Sylvain cried, waving his arms so wildly that you thought the biscuit in his hand might fly away. “She was supposed to be researching Vedi, how could she get in trouble from that?”

“Maybe the Fatui are finally interested in them,” Elke replied, the monotone of her voice contrasting against Sylvian’s. “Celestia knows the Tsaritsa has ignored them for long enough.”

“Whatever the reason, we can’t ignore this.” You could see the strains in Baptiste’s knuckles. His eyes hovered over the three of you. “We need to ascertain her fate. Our current collaborators in Snezhnaya are in no position to do that at the moment.”

“I’ll do it.”

Three pair of eyes turned to you, each with their own gleam. Suspicion. Derision. Satisfaction.

“Excellent, ma puce. You and Sylvain shall depart in the afternoon.”

“Wait. Me? Why do I have to-”

“Yeah, why does he have to-”

“This is not a job for only one person,” Baptiste interrupted with a tone of finality. “Especially if Karina has truly been caught by someone. If you find her alive, I trust you will take the necessary measures to ensure that she does not compromise our other operations.”

His voice was calm, as though Baptiste were merely repeating protocol. But you had been around for long enough to hang on his every word. To know that Baptiste had paired you up together to ensure that no “necessary measures” were left untaken.

There were no flowers in Kamisato Ayato’s study. It was the only room in the entire Estate where it was so, kitchen excepted. You did not know where that thought had come from, but you held onto it like a child to their parents’ legs. It was better than letting your mind run free and crash into the wall of Ayato’s smile.

“Hitomi, please, take a seat.” You did. He regarded you for a moment, as though waiting to see whether you were comfortably settled. A moment too long. “Ayaka relayed to me the events in Ritou involving the Shugosha. I should hope you were not too shaken by them.”

“No, my lord.”

He paused, waiting for an elaboration. Upon getting none, his smile broadened. “I am glad to hear it. It was, after all, quite an ordeal.” Another pause, unfilled. “I must say, your reaction was most unexpected.”

This time, it was Ayato who offered no elaboration, forcing you to swallow the lump in your throat and ask, “How so, my lord?”

“Upon identifying an explosive that could detonate any moment, one might think it wise to alert the Tenryou Commission.”

“I surmised that would have taken too long, my lord. Increased the risk.”

“The workers at the docks might have been of assistance.”

“And caused panic. Given the impression that Inazuma is not able to protect its citizens and outlanders alike. My lord.”

Ayato hummed, a buzz that told you nothing. He opened a drawer in his desk and used both hands to pull out a box made of otogi wood. All the while, his eyes never left you.

“Do you play shogi, Hitomi?”

You frowned. You knew little of the Inazuman variation of chess beyond the fact that it existed. “No, my lord.”

“Indulge me in a round. I shall teach you.”

In anyone else, the lightness in that tone could have been taken as an invitation. But in Kamisato Ayato’s voice, any and every word fell into a command. You nodded.

Ayato took the shogi board and pieces out of the box and arranged them with a fluidity that only habit could entail. His explanation of the rules was clear and patient, letting you muse over the movements of each piece and potential strategies before moving on to the next.

“Would you like to write it down?”

“It’s fine, my lord.”

“Very well. I shall begin.”

Ayato advanced a pawn in front of his bishop. After some consideration, you did the same. You did not take the game lightly. Being evidently far from a worthy opponent, the only reason you could fathom for Ayato’s order was that he intended to intimidate you. The reason for that was still a puzzle, but one you were determined to solve in time. For the moment, you would do what you could to prolong the duel.

The soft taps of the pieces against the board were the only sound that filled the room. That, and your loud thoughts, divided between paying attention to the game and to Ayato’s countenance. Neither his expression nor his movements had shifted in the slightest since the beginning of the match, and that frayed your nerves. Not that you had expected to surprise him with some spectacular – or spectacularly stupid – move, but at the very least to catch something that would give you a broader picture of the Yashiro Commissioner than the placid man smiling at you.

He caught a silver from you. Then a rook. You felt some satisfaction in subtracting a silver from Ayato’s ranks, only to hear, “Checkmate.”

It was without surprise that you confirmed he was right. Anywhere you moved, your king would be lost. It had not been ten minutes.

“Again. You may begin this time.”

Your eyebrows shot up at the order, but you did not object. If anything, it would give you further inkling as to what Ayato’s game truly was.

You moved the center pawn up. That elicited a soft hum from the Commissioner, but that was all. This time, checkmate came in seven minutes.

“Again.”

A sharp intake of breath came through before you could conceal your irritation. The amused glint in Ayato’s eyes told you that he had noticed, even if he did not deign to comment.

Embarrassment burned hotly down your throat, and you sought to channel it into the game. You made bolder moves, took higher risks with little hope of reward. Winning was not the goal; you would be satisfied if you could at least get a reaction out of Ayato. And the longer you failed to do that, the more erratic your moves became.

You lost count of how many matches you played. Some dragged on longer as you began to familiarize yourself with the game’s intricacies. But those were rare. And in the last three rounds, the time until each checkmate became shorter and shorter.

It was when Ayato won the match in less than five minutes that he declared, “That will do for today. Thank you, Hitomi.”

You did not move. Did not tear your eyes away from the board, where Ayato’s lance sealed the fate of your king. You sought to burn the image in your memory, as though that would help you later make sense of the last- minutes? Hours?

“There is a question in your mind. Speak freely.”

Your head snapped up as if pulled by a puppeteer. “Have I displeased you, my lord? In Ritou.”

“On the contrary.” The reply came without pause, as if Ayato had expected the question. “You showed a thorough assessment of the situation, its immediate and deferred effects, and acted effectively to neutralize the threat. A reaction worthy of a true retainer of the Kamisato Clan.”

The words ignited an alarm in your head, and it took every ounce of your self-control to keep your expression unchanged. Ayato started collecting the pieces back into the box.

“I am looking forward to playing with you again.”

As you bowed and turned to leave, you became acutely aware of the flower in Ayato’s study. The camellia that hovered over his shoulders.

It was definitely a punishment, unusual though it may be. Ayato had taken to inviting – ordering – you to play shogi at least once a week, sometimes twice. Your gameplay gradually improved, a fact that you became aware of only after a casual remark from Ayato that you had been holding out for longer. Sometimes. Others, it felt you barely had to readjust your pieces to their original position, given how fast checkmate came.

In all those weeks, you still had no idea what Ayato sought with those games, if not annoy you to death. Thoma once suggested that he was taking more time to get to know you. You had retorted that you would have preferred poetry. Thoma had laughed. He had been laughing more frequently now. More freely. And you found yourself joining him more often than not.

That realization would come as a small puncture. The kind of wound one barely took notice of until every hint of tranquility had bled out. And then it was too late.

You groaned into your pillow, for a second considering smothering yourself to sleep. But the clarity of the oil lamp, dim was it was, was enough to pierce through your eyelids and call you back to task. Your job was far from finished, after all.

Since your first visit to Ayaka’s study, you had been requested to clean the place a few other times and, in some of them, managed to take a peep at the hidden stash of documents under the floorboards. Two more invoices had been added there, one from a few days after the Biwa Music Festival. Neither Sylvain nor Anaïs had managed to detect any suspicious transactions at the harbor. There was no indication of when another transaction would happen.

Your eyes scanned the translated legal opinion again, as though something might have changed from the last times you had done it – the previous week, the day before, fifteen minutes ago. The clients had been pleased with that progress, even if Sylvain had relayed that in the most dismissive way possible, but there was not enough there to unequivocally accuse the Kamisatos of treason.

The opinion was, in fact, a terribly dry and agonizingly detailed assessment of potential loopholes in the Uniting Inazuma Decree. Not a line gave hints as to the Kamisatos’ involvement or the identity of who had requested the opinion.

Countries whose ships are found to be in breach of the Uniting Inazuma Decree may be subject to pecuniary sanctions and loss of sovereign immunity before Inazuman courts. While the lawfulness of such measures is questionable under customary international law, they have been enforced by Inazuman courts in a recent case involving a trade ship from Mondstadt (App No 455-670).

You could think of few surer ways to encourage other nations to force their nationals to comply with the Decree. The threat of litigation, even if unfounded, was more often than not enough to make people reconsider their actions. You imagined that worked with governments as well.

The situation of an unflagged ship, as described in the Client’s question, is not provided in the Decree. Therefore, the application of sanctions on the basis of the nationality of the unflagged ship’s captain or crew finds no support in Inazuman law.

That changed little. Few smugglers would dare go against the Decree, especially now that the much more profitable Inazuman ports were open. Watatsumi did not have highly valuable local specialties that were worth the risk, nor, you would bet, sufficient funds to pay for smuggling services. Not after all they spent during the war.

Despite having been enacted mainly as a form of commercial embargo, Article 16 of the Uniting Inazuma Decree extends the prohibition of navigating less than 200 nautical miles from the coast of Watatsumi Island to vessels with humanitarian and touristic purposes. Any vessel intending to perform such activities in the territory of Watatsumi Island must obtain prior approval of the Tri-Commission by unanimous vote. According to the information provided by General Kujou Sara as per my request, no such authorization has been granted to date, and humanitarian aid has been distributed sporadically by the Shogunate itself.

Sporadically was probably a legally polite term to say “never”.

That was practically an admission that the Shogunate was starving Watatsumi out. The island was notorious for its poor farmable land. And yet, throughout all these months, Sangonomiya had not given up on their claim of independence.

Pressure began to build behind your eyes, and you pinched the bridge of your nose to try to stop the incoming headache. Your eyes travelled to the lawyer’s signature at the end of the document. At first, you had read it as Enhi. But Miura had translated the characters as Yānfēi.

You had, of course, told Sylvain to dig into this lawyer. Karina had answered surprisingly quickly, saying that she was a well-known legal advisor in Liyue Harbor, a half-adeptus who was sometimes sought out even by the Qixing. Too high profile for Karina and Bo to break into her office.

Yanfei. A dead end.

You closed your eyes and scrunched your nose as another knife seemed to pierce the back of your head. It was useless. You had already extracted all you could from that document.

Once again, your gaze fell upon the two last characters. 煙緋. Yanfei. You would never have guessed. No wonder Inazumans often added one of the other alphabets when writing someone’s name, indicating how the characters should be pronounced.

Just like that Maki. 真木 (まき).

煙緋. えんひ. Enhi. Yanfei.

Maki. まき.

… Maki.

The next morning, you found an excuse to go to Inazuma City and bought yourself a Liyuean-Inazuman dictionary.

You tasted blood, a sign that you should stop biting your lip. You didn’t. You were afraid you might scream otherwise.

It had been a hunch, a wild, desperate hunch. Not the first time one of those saved your butt on a mission, but it would never cease to amaze you.

Your heart hammered louder and louder in your chest as your eyes trailed down the list of names. Names in Inazuman and their pronunciation in Liyuean characters.

Maki. 真木. Zhēnmù.

Koune. 幸音. Xìngyīn.

Eifuku. 榮福. Róngfù.

Kiyoaki. 舜章. Shùnzhāng.

Maki was the easiest one. You had obsessed over that one for so long that you could rewrite the entire invoice in your sleep. Maki, or Zhēnmù, referred to the woman who had signed the document and received the goods, Muzhen.

If the other names followed the same logic…

Yinxing. Furong. Zhang Shun.

And that was when something in your chest burst. Knowledge accumulated from years of obsession.

You found another excuse to go to Inazuma City a couple of days later. You left a coded message at the Hanamizaka Shrine: Get me a list with all the names of the Crux Fleet members.

You knew your mind would be buzzing with anxiety until you received Sylvain’s reply. So, after chugging down a cup of coffee with a cream drawing of an upside-down Electro slime (“It’s clearly a dandelion!”), you took your tools and went to tend to the garden.

You could no longer deny the effect the task had on you, how tension seemed to run down your shoulders and arms and dissipate into the earth you stirred with gloved fingers. Even if you did not understand it. Perhaps the camellias did.

The silence around the Estate, broken only by hushed conversation between the two samurai at the gates, usually would have left your mind racing with anxious thoughts. Wondering if Thoma and Ayaka had lied about their errand in Inazuma City and gone to Ritou instead, if Baptiste was disappointed with your slow progress, if Sylvain would take your last request seriously. But your hands were busy, and your mind was focused on where to trim the leaves and the amount of fertilizer to apply. Just enough to tether you, not enough to trap. It was an unexpected but welcome balance.

It tipped so easily.

This time, it was with a thump, a dry, sudden sound that made you immediately straighten your back. Your head whipped towards the gate, where Kazumasa mumbled angrily while hitting the shaft of his spear against the ground. You did not have to strain your ears much to catch his words.

“-long is this going to continue? There are tons of other, better candidates for the position. Now that the country is open, there is no excuse, he should just have left.”

“Look, it makes me angry too,” Furusawa said in a quieter tone, though not quiet enough to escape Your trained ears. “But what can we do about it?”

“Well, someone has to let the Commissioner know. What will the people think, knowing he continues to allow an outlander act as Chief Retain- OW!”

Kazumasa halted abruptly, a hand darting to the back of his shoulder. His eyes darted downwards, finding the most likely culprit in a small pebble, and around in search of the catalyst. You felt his eyes hover over you, the only other person outside, and continued to tend to the flowers. Though you kept your eyes down, you heard when he decided to let it go.

“Anyway. Maybe if enough people show discontentment, the Commissioner will act on it.”

“Do you want to lose your job, you dimwit? We can’t incite a rebellion!”

“I’m not saying that! Am I saying that? I’m not!”

“Then don’t come close to saying it.”

“I’m just trying to do something before it becomes too late and the Commission loses face! Surely the Commissioner will see that.”

A huff came from Furusawa. “Somehow, I doubt it. Thoma has them all fooled, I’m telling you. He gets away with things nobody else would. If anything, it’s better that we have a talk with him.”

“You don’t mean-”

Both samurai suddenly screamed, despite how unbecoming that was for their profession, and whipped their heads around. This time, you did not bother hiding the pebbles in your hand, or the fury in your eyes.

Furusawa was the first to recover. “Hitomi, what do you think you’re doing?”

“Target practice.” You patted your clothes, wiping off the dirt from your gloves as you stood up. “It is shameful for samurai to leave their guard so low.”

The blow of those words compensated for your faulty aim.

“You- Don’t you forget your place!”

“Or what?”

A vein bulged in Kazumasa’s neck, as though clogged by curses he could not hurl at you, no matter how much he wished to. You wished he would as well. It would give you an excuse to relieve the itchiness in your fingers.

The two samurai reached you in large strides. The view of the empty gate was oil to the ire burning inside your chest – one would think they at least cared about the Estate’s security.

“Listen, Hitomi.” It was Furusawa who spoke, and You noticed his fingers flexing, as though trying to relax the grip around his spear. “We know you’ve been getting close to Thoma recently. But we’ve been here longer and we’ve seen the dangers of putting an outlander like him in such a visible position within the household. Especially one who carries himself as… freely as Thoma.”

Derision dropped from his words like acid on your skin.

They complained about visibility. And yet they did not see what Thoma did. Perhaps you yourself did not see all of it.

You tugged your gloves off, eyes never leaving the samurai. “If you feel so strongly about that, then you should talk to the Commissioner. After your work hours, you know?”

You sent a pointed look towards the abandoned gates, barely making an effort to conceal your amusement when the guards’ faces flushed. Kazumasa took another step forward.

“Now listen here, you-”

His hand shot out to grip your shoulder and you reacted by instinct, stepping out of the way and grabbing his wrist before pulling it into a twist. Kazumasa cried out, more in surprise than pain, and you let go before you let more of your instincts take over, ones that told you not to stop before you heard bones shattering.

Rage contorted the samurai’s face, a foil to your own coldness. Furusawa was no better, and even the large helmet he wore could not conceal the tension in his posture. A second passed, filled only by the indecision gleaming in the two men’s eyes – to scoff and walk away, or to punish you for your disrespect.

As if they could.

In the end, the decision came from someone else.

“How lively you are today. But… who is at the gates?”

The samurai stiffened as though shot by a current of Electro. With a nod to Furuta, the curtest one that politeness dictated, they headed back to the gates. The way their eyes lingered on you, hard and simmering, told you that would not be the end of your conversation. But now your mind was already taken by more important matters.

Like how the elderly housekeeper had managed to sneak up on you like that.

Furuta answered your questioning gaze with a smile that accentuated the wrinkles around her cheeks. For the first time, that smile awoke an uneasiness in you.

“Hitomi, follow me, would you?”

You had never been one to listen to cautionary fairy tales, mostly because Baptiste had preferred to use more real-life examples in his lessons. Even so, you knew that a good portion of them had the same moral: be careful what you wish for.

And so you were. Careful not to so much as crane your neck the wrong way as you waited for the Yashiro Commissioner to return. Alone in his study.

You memorized every corner available to the naked eye, even making a note about the height of the stacks of paper cluttering Ayato’s desk. The thought crossed your mind a few times that you could dig a little deeper, that you would be able to hear Ayato approaching. You discarded it each time. Be it your earlier fright with Furuta or your keen sense of self-preservation, you knew you were being tested. You had always excelled in tests.

You calculated fifteen minutes before you heard Ayato’s tread. Light, but not sneaky. Not hurried, but purposeful. Another branch of the poised confidence he exuded. Not for the first time, you wondered if he had been taught to act as early as you had.

“My lord,” you greeted with a deep bow.

“Apologies for leaving you waiting, Hitomi. Please, take a seat.”

His eyes flew around the room briefly, igniting a spark of satisfaction in your chest – ha! Not a speck of dust out of place – that was promptly snuffed out when they fell upon you. The victory of not having been caught snooping around was nothing compared to the risk of punishment for your behavior towards the samurai.

Or worse, to having to explain it. Because the more you thought about it, the less you could comprehend your reaction, let alone justify it.

Ever since setting foot in Inazuma, your anger had been out of control. You had told Baptiste, begged him not to send you, youknew that-

“The garden is growing beautifully. You have done good work.”

You blinked. “Thank you, my lord.” It ended up sounding more like a question, but Ayato paid it no mind.

“I have been worrying, however. I have heard that spider mites come with the dry season. Have you any thoughts on how to control them?”

You blinked again, mind reeling to find some hidden meaning behind Ayato’s words. The Commissioner held your gaze silently, waiting for an answer.

“Watering them well and using some oils should do the trick, my lord.”

“What if some of the plants are already infected? Would we need to sacrifice them?”

“Normally no. Cleaning and treating them a bit is usually enough.”

“I am glad to hear it.” As if to emphasize his point, the corners of Ayato’s lips angled up slightly. “For a moment, I thought you might advocate for a more radical solution.”

“Not in this case. Thankfully, a few mites are not enough to ruin the entire garden.”

“Indeed. It would be too harsh to simply dispose of them instead of treating the disease, no?”

The muscles in Your shoulders went taut. Ayato’s expression remained frozen in cordiality, but you would have to be dense not to see the sharpness in its edges.

Ayato took a sheet of paper from the nearest stack and slid it towards you. You refused to stare directly at it until Ayato spoke.

“This is the proposal of a decree by the Kanjou Commission to establish quotas on the number of outlanders allowed into Inazuman territory for any purposes. In exchange for supporting this Decree, the Kanjou Commission would vote in favor of resuming peace talks with Watatsumi Island.”

Your  eyes widened a fraction before you schooled your expression. Still, that would be surprising even for Hitomi.

“I thought the Kanjou Commission would adopt a more lenient stance on outlanders after the Biwa Music Festival.”

“Some families, yes. Unfortunately, not all of those within the Commission were convinced, and they were enough to put this proposal forward.”

Inazuma had seen an unprecedented amount of change in the past year. So much that sometimes it was easy to forget that some things were, indeed, eternal.

You stared at the paper, the characters blurring as your vision unfocused. Your throat felt dry.

“My lord, may I ask the Yashiro Commission’s position on this matter?”

“Of course, Hitomi. This was discussed a few days ago. The Yashiro Commission voted against the proposal, and it did not pass.”

Relief washed over your chest for a moment, before you realized. Supporting the outlanders meant sacrificing Watatsumi. Even the Yashiro Commission’s clout was not enough to protect both.

“I am sure you understand that every decision must be thought and balanced with long-term consequences in mind,” Ayato continued in the same tone he used when explaining the movements of shogi pieces to you.

He could show sympathy to the outlanders’ plight, but not too much. He could advocate in favor of more flexible negotiations with Watatsumi, but not too much. He could fire xenophobic guards… but that would risk having them taken in by families who shared their views and were willing to exploit their knowledge of the Estate’s inner workings. Or worse. The Shugosha themselves.

“My lord,” the words tumbled out of your lips before you could stop them. Ayato regarded you in silence while you hesitated, neither encouraging nor dismissing. Finally, you settled your thoughts. “They shouldn’t say those things about Thoma.”

The smile playing on his lips dimmed, yet that made it warmer somehow. Truer.

“Rest assured that Kazumasa and Furusawa will be reminded of that in a discreet but effective way. I trust that you will also conduct yourself in such a way should any further disagreements arise.”

“Of course, my lord.”

With a minute movement of his chin, he let you know that you were dismissed. You bowed and turned to leave when Ayato’s voice called you once again. You tried not to stiffen under the intensity of the Commissioner’s gaze.

“Please beware that not all diseases are like spider mites.”

Not all, indeed. You weren’t.

Chapter Text

The air stank of antiseptic. Strange mechanical parts were littered around, remnants of Ruin Machines. That was not a strange sight.

The organs attached to them were.

“I swear, it was already like this when I found them! I just… kept going from where he left off.”

Sylvain rose a hand to his mouth and swallowed back whatever threatened to rise from his stomach. You would have teased him had you been any better. If only you could tear your gaze away from the eyeball Karina had dropped.

“How do you stumble upon the laboratory of a Fatui Harbinger?” you hissed.

“I know! Never thought I’d be so lucky. I mean, it’s been abandoned for years, you can see the state, but I think I was able to get some interesting stuff down here.”

“If the Croque-mitaine does not skin you, I swear I will,” Sylvain growled. It would have sounded more menacing were his face not starting to turn green.

“I already said I’m sorry! I lost track of time here!” was Karina’s unapologetic reply. “Besides, I think he’ll be happy. I got the hang of how to attach ruin guard’s lasers to an arm, I just need a volunteer.”

For a moment, you almost considered ending Karina right there and sparing yourselves from having to listen to that sort of thing all the way across the Snezhnayan tundra and back to Fontaine. Baptiste would likely consider her too much of a risk after that vanishing act anyway. You would have to calm him down first. Maybe have Karina build something to show him.

A loud metallic clank invaded the laboratory, startling the trio. It had come from the tunnel from where you and Sylvain had entered.

Sylvain shot Karina a glare. “I thought you said it was abandoned.”

“It is! Just look at how unkempt these parts are-”

“Then what the fuck is coming?”

“We don’t have time for that, we can’t be caught here,” you snapped as your eyes darted around in search of an alternative exit. They landed on a pile of dismantled parts of a Ruin Grader sitting in the middle of a circle of purplish wires. Above that, there was a large pipe closed off by a hatch, probably used to spray something on the experiment. It was large enough to fit a person.

The clanking got louder, as if someone were brutally tearing down the mechanical traps you and Sylvain had so carefully avoided.

With a quick gesture to the other two, you dashed towards the pipe. Sylvain followed. As soon as you stepped into the circle, a current of Electro shot through you, causing you to grit your teeth. It was not so strong as to incapacitate you, but enough to be painful.

“I didn’t have time to deactivate that,” Karina said, and this time she did sound slightly sorry.

Sylvain took in a deep breath and stepped in, cringing only a little as the elemental energy passed by him. You promptly kneeled down and he climbed on your shoulders. When you rose, he was high enough to reach the hatch. Sylvain took out a small gun and fired two quick shots on one side of the hinges, causing the hatch to fall open. He then straightened himself and started to climb inside.

Karina hesitated, but made up her mind as soon as she caught your sharp glare. She whimpered upon entering the Electro field, and you had to all but haul her up so Sylvain could pull her into the pipe as well. The two wriggled inside the tube, trying to keep their balance and fit together at the same time. They couldn’t go farther just yet. You were left. Upon a quick nod from Sylvain, you jumped, extending your arms to catch his outstretched hand.

Pain shot through your leg, cutting the jump short. You fell ungracefully on one knee and took a second before standing up. Your legs were starting to numb. You jumped again, feeling the tips of Sylvain’s fingers graze yours before you fell back down.

“You have to come lower,” you said in what felt like a whisper over the increasingly louder noises.

It was a tough position, especially as Karina kept wriggling against him, but he could do it. He had balanced himself in worse situations, really. He just needed to slide down a few centimeters and catch your next jump.

But he hesitated.

“Hurry up!”

Your eyes widened, desperation clawing at your chest. The sounds were getting so loud that you could barely hear when he said, “Sorry, [Y/N].”

This time, the Croque-mitaine himself had written. Two words.

Good job.

Contrary to the impressions his alias invoked, displays of sentimentality were not uncommon to Baptiste. He just saved them for when they would be most appreciated. And you did appreciate it. You had read those words under a flickering flame over and over until you could feel the weight of his hand over your shoulder before giving them up for ashes.

Your assessment had been correct. The names with Inazuman characters in the invoices all corresponded to names of members of the Crux Fleet, including one who had retired years ago.  Upon further investigation, Sylvain confirmed that the Crux Fleet often did business in Inazuma – and often with the Yashiro Commission. Not only that, but the Fleet’s ships all sailed unflagged, just like the situation described in the legal opinion. And then there was the notorious though whispered fact that they were more than willing to deal with contraband from time to time. You could think of no one more perfect for smuggling goods into Watatsumi.

All you needed was to find out when the next transactions were scheduled to happen and make sure they could be traced back to the Kamisatos. All of your efforts were now focused on that. Nothing else mattered.

Of course, it would be much easier to focus if Thoma weren’t looking like a kid in a candy shop as Omi showed him the windwheel asters they had shipped from Mondstadt. His head bobbed up and down at their every word as they went on and on about the perfect soil conditions for the windwheel asters and how long it had taken them to figure this out in Inazuma. His hand barely grazed the petals, as if he were afraid the flower would wilt if he touched them.

He looked unbelievably cut-

You slapped yourself. Quickly enough that no one noticed, hard enough that your brain scrambled back into place.

You had been getting more distracted ever since that night when you had slept – not together, not. Together – on the same bed. When he had looked for you for comfort on his own initiative, instead of your having to prod and get him hurt in the process.

If anything, the air around him seemed lighter after that night. And the thought that you might have helped with that caused a warm tingle in your chest.

It was a baseless thought, of course. Still.

“So, are you going to take one?” Omi asked, grinning from ear to ear even as Thoma shook his head.

“Sadly, I don’t have a good place to plant it… And I don’t even know if I would have the time to take care of it properly.”

“Any place with sun and a bit of wind will do! Besides, windwheel asters take really well to being potted.”

“I know, it’s just…” There was a sudden sullenness to his smile as his eyes flickered to you. “It doesn’t seem fair to have a flower like that potted, you know?”

“Milady, do you have a minute?”

“Of course, Hitomi. Please, walk with me.”

Ayaka slowed her pace and you ignored the tightening of your stomach. A light breeze blew at your back as if nudging you forward. But you did not believe in omens. You believed in preparation, so you started with the speech you had prepared.

“I was wondering about something. In Fontaine, some nobles like to dedicate portions of their gardens to flowers native to other nations. So they have, for example, a Liyuean garden, an Inazuman garden… those kinds of things.”

Ayaka listened attentively, eyes brimming with that curious sparkle that appeared whenever she heard about foreign customs. “That sounds quite delightful. One could sit among the flowers and for a moment pretend to be abroad… Were you thinking about doing something like this in our garden?”

“If milady so wishes.”

“What kind of garden did you have in mind?”

You smiled broadly to conceal how hard you swallowed. “Some windwheel asters, for starters. Maybe cecilias, small lamp grasses, some calla lilies if I can get them to grow without a pond nearby…”

“A Mondstadt garden, then.”

You nodded wordlessly. Should Ayaka say no, you would not push the issue. It would help no one. In fact, the whole proposition was unhelpful, and you should not be looking for even more wor-

“I believe it is a wonderful idea.”

You coughed, masking how you almost choked with your own saliva.

“You do?”

“Yes, of course. I think Thoma will love it.”

That twinkle was not curious anymore. You almost choked again.

“Well, milady, it is your garden, you should be the one to like it.”

“I do as well, Hitomi, do not worry.” The gentleness of her smile eased the momentary mischievousness of her eyes. “But I do believe that Thoma will appreciate it the most. He has been opening up more, and I know you’ve played no small part in it. Thank you for looking after him.”

You opened your mouth to deny the implications of her words, much less subtle than you would have liked, but knew that would only call more attention to them. So instead, you asked, “Can we keep this new garden between us, milady, just until it’s ready? There is a spot around the back corner that is not very visible and gets a good amount of wind that I think would be perfect.”

“Of course, Hitomi. It will be a wonderful surprise.”

It was a shame that you had never liked surprises. There were certainly not lacking.

“Really? You have no idea?”

The room was stuffy and uncomfortable, but Sylvain made no move to open the windows. You feared you would never get the stench of ginger from your clothes.

“Let me ask again, marmotte.” If he thought you could not see the way he gripped the table underneath, he had forgotten to account for the ripples in his tea. “Why would Shikanoin request Shigurai Hitomi’s file from the Kanjou Commission?”

You tilted your head to face the ceiling as you mused, “I wonder. I wonder if it has anything to do with the guy I fought in Ritou. The one whose blood you spilled on me.”

“That case was closed after I planted the gun on someone else. Our contact at the station told us.”

“And you think a stamp is ever going to stop Shikanoin from butting his nose into something if he’s intrigued?”

“What an insight, marmotte. You seem to know so well of the detective’s M.O. Do tell me how.”

You could omit the tale about the man you had killed on your first day on Narukami, but not about meeting Shikanoin. There were witnesses to that.

“Arataki introduced us one day when he was trying to pull a prank into Shikanoin. I got to watch that unfold, saw a bit of what this ‘Cyclone’ is all about.”

Sylvain ran a hand across his jaw, massaging tense muscles. “And what did you do then that could have gotten him so intrigued?”

“Must have been my charming personality, surely.”

You chuckled. Sylvain didn’t.

“[Y/N]. We are too close to mess this up.”

“Spare me the patronizing speech, please.” You straightened your back and crossed your arms. “I am the one doing the heavy work here, and you know very well that I want to get this over with as soon as possible and get out of this damned country.”

“Do you?” he shot back immediately.

Your fingernails dug into your skin, deeply, sharply, but you could hardly feel it. Not when your heart seemed like it was trying to claw its way out of your chest. And with it, memories that you wished to do away with.

A foot slipping from the pipe, and Sylvain’s hand gripping your wrist. A flask snatched from an unsuspecting drunkard, your first mind-numbing experience with liquor. And words and words that you could not contain, no more than you could the tears that had stained your face. It had been the first and last time you cried in front of him. It had not been the last time he had heard you talk about your fathers.

It had changed. You both had changed. At some point, banter became snark, and your confessions were no longer tucked underneath his armor, but the very bullets he shot with.

But it was not his words that made the blood thump in your ears. It was the voice at the back of your head that replied with, “Do I?”

Seconds trickled by. In the end, Sylvain accepted the hardness of your stare as a proof of your resolve. He said he would tell you if he heard anything else from the clients in the Kanjou Commission about Shikanoin’s activities, and you promised to remain vigilant and inconspicuous.

You could still smell the ginger much later, when you stopped by Omi’s flower shop.

“Lamp grasses okay, maybe even some dandelions. But cecilias are simply impossible to grow where you’re planning, there is not enough wind!”

“Is there nothing I can do?” You sighed. “They would make such a nice contrast with the windwheel asters.”

Omi scratched their chin. “Well, that depends. Can you conjure an Anemo Vision? That would help.”

“You’ve been spending too much time with outlanders, Omi. You’re picking up sarcasm.”

“Should I write the cecilias down, then?” the vendor asked, doing a poor job at suppressing their snickers.

“No… Let me think a bit.”

Deciding which flowers would be planted and how many of each was a task harder than you had anticipated. You had asked Furuta for tips before leaving, but the old housekeeper had as much experience planning a garden as you did.

“Hitomi?”

You started at the voice, but relaxed quickly enough when saw it was just Shinobu. It was a rare sight to find her without Itto’s overbearing presence closely behind. You waved and waited for Shinobu to approach.

“That’s quite a lot of windwheel asters,” Shinobu remarked, glancing at Omi’s notepad.

You bit down your lip. “To be honest, I don’t know if it’s enough.”

“What is it for? Some kind of festival?”

“Not this time, no.” You looked around to make sure Thoma would not suddenly sprout from the ground. “I am making a Mondstadt-style garden at the Kamisato Estate, and I ‘m trying to figure out how many flowers I need.”

“I see… Why don’t you check first with the landscape architect?”

You blinked.

“You… do have a landscape architect, right?”

You blinked again. “You know, when you say it like that, it sounds really obvious.”

“Aren’t you a gardener?”

“Well, no. I am a whatever-the-masters-need-and-right-now-they-need-a-garden.” Never mind that the garden had been your idea in the first place.

Shinobu hummed thoughtfully behind the mask. “If you’d like, I could have look at the garden and design some ideas.” At your frown, she added. “I got a certification in landscaping last year.”

“Is that… something you want to do professionally?”

“Not really. I just thought it could be useful someday. And I was right, no? I wouldn’t be taking this commission for free.”

With Ayaka’s approval, Shinobu became responsible for designing the garden and thus for shooting down your dream of having an artificial pond with calla lilies.

“But we can fill some of these gaps with valberries, and you can use them for recipes.”

Oh, Shinobu was well used to making accommodations for impossible dreams.

The area reserved for the garden was not that big. Just enough for a small party to sit comfortably around the flowers. A tall otogi tree grew in the corner but Shinobu promised she would make it so the tree complemented the scenery instead of standing out. She suggested putting a windchime on its branches. An invitation for the wind to sing. You were not sure whether she had gotten all that just from the landscaping course.

The first few days were spent with Shinobu demarcating the terrain; which flowers would go where, how far apart they should be, the directions they should face. You took note of the instructions with millimetric precision, knowing that would make the next step of the work easier. You had settled for windwheel asters, small lamp grasses next to the tree, and a couple of valberry plants. After Omi’s repeated reassurance that a Sumerian researcher had developed a fertilizer that reduced the germination rate of dandelions, preventing them from spreading uncontrollably, you added a few dandelions to a corner.

Then came the hard part. Getting the flowers in without Thoma seeing. That took some help from Ayaka.

“What is it about a part of the garden I’m banned from entering?” came Thoma’s voice from the curtain of vapors that were spiraling out of the pan where he was stirring the soup. You took a seat opposite from him and stretched your legs under the table. Your muscles screamed from joy and pain alike.

“Don’t flatter yourself. Everyone is banned.”

“But I could help!”

“Who says I need help? I’m the gardener here, it’s my job to do these kinds of things!”

The sound of the spoon scraping the bottom of the pan stopped. Thoma looked at you – cheeks flushed from the heat, strands of hair sticking to his brow, lips pulled into a grin. You pulled your legs back, suddenly feeling like you had lost balance.

“Gardener, huh? It suits you!”

The room was getting warmer. You could not wait for Thoma to be done with that soup.

“This way. Now, Thoma, close your eyes.”

His eyelids fluttered closed without second thought upon Ayaka’s command. She took one of his arms and Ayato took the other, but not without turning back to you and shooting you a smile that was meant to be reassuring. You answered with a nod of your own, hoping Ayaka did not see how hard you bit the inside of your cheek.

You could have used a few days more. Checked that the small lamp grasses were glowing as much as they should, that the dandelions had not been too scattered by the wind, that the valberries were ripe. But on the ninth day, Ayaka had declared that the garden was perfect and that it was time to show Thoma, and all of your protests were pulverized by the gleam in the Shirasagi Himegimi’s eyes.

It all seemed too much, suddenly. A full garden. You were not even sure what you expected to achieve with that. But you remembered how lovingly Thoma had gazed upon the windwheel asters in Inazuma City. Ayaka’s gratitude for the camellias that reminded her of her mother. And then it seemed actually too little.

The Kamisato siblings led Thoma forward while you followed a few steps behind. He kept pace with them, unhesitant even with his eyes closed. You wondered if that blind trust came naturally to him or if it had been birthed across years of shared burdens.

You wondered if he would walk as confidently if it were you guiding him.

Ayato poked Thoma’s ribs, and Thoma immediately yelped.

“My Lord!”

“Yes, Thoma? Do you need anything?”

“Don’t start now, you two,” Ayaka chided, the laughter in her voice making it rather ineffective. “We’re almost there.”

It was, you realized, the first time that you witnessed the three of them together. Truly together, away from prying stares and political entanglements. Three orphans who had grown together through loss and pain, through sacrifice and conflict. Through loyalty. They were family, each of them an unwavering pillar sustaining the others’ world.

You expected to taste bitterness in your mouth. The emptiness that came instead surprised you.

You stopped at the center of the garden, just before the first row of windwheel asters. The timing was perfect. The moon hung high in the sky and, though it was not full, it brought enough illumination. The bluish glow of the small lamp grasses tinged the other flowers and somehow made the asters’ red stand out even more. The softest breeze swayed the wooden windchime hanging from a branch of the otogi tree. The melody that followed was almost shy, filling the space with an aura of serenity.

It felt like something come out of a dream.

There was a curious crease in Thoma’s brow, probably trying to decipher what the sound of the windchime meant. Ayaka turned to you once again, silently asking for permission. As though she were not the lady of the house, as though you opinion mattered. You nodded. She and Ayato let go of Thoma and stepped back.

“You may open your eyes now.”

His back was turned to you, so that the fullness of Thoma’s reaction was a secret reserved for the flowers and their silence. Even so, you caught glimpses of it. The way his shoulders immediately stiffened, a sign that he had just opened his eyes. The quiet gasp that escaped from his lips before he could help it. The way his shoulders then began to relax and his hands trembled, opening and closing, and then moving to his face as if Thoma did not know what to do with them. The slow turning of his neck – up and down, left and right – surveying each detail.

None of you spoke and seemed almost regretful that you had to breathe, fearful of breaking Thoma’s trance. Eventually, the blond turned to you, smiling through the tears that insisted on cascading down his cheeks.

“It’s- it’s home.” His throat bobbed, as though there were too many words disputing which one would come out first. “How did you- Why-”

“It was Hitomi’s idea.”

You bristled. You had asked Ayaka not to mention that, but apparently Ayato was not let in on the agreement. Or he simply didn’t care.

You did not have time to ponder which one was more likely, not when Thoma’s eyes snapped in your direction. Not when they looked at you like you, too, had come out of a dream.

“Thank you.”

Two words.

They replaced any others in your mind.

Thoma’s gaze hovered over the Kamisato siblings and he attempted a weak smile.

“Thank you all.”

Ayaka was the first to react, stepping forward and pulling Thoma into a hug before he crumbled. Ayato followed – measured, calculated steps, even as he ran his arm around the back of Thoma’s neck and pressed Thoma’s forehead to his shoulder. Thoma sobbed and Ayato pressed more tightly, gloved fingers digging into his hair.

That was the most genuine you had ever seen the Yashiro Commissioner. The thought opened a pit in your stomach.

There was no space for you there – in that hug, in that life. You could build as many gardens as you wanted, play as much shogi as Ayato forced you to, memorize all poems in Ayaka’s books. That would still not change.

Pale fingers encircled your wrist and, before you could fully register it, Ayaka gave a light but determined tug forward. Your feet obeyed instinctively, placing yourself beside the Shirasagi Himegimi, against Thoma’s chest, stealing into a moment that did not belong to you.

But you were used to lying, and you could trick yourself into thinking that your presence was welcome. Just for a while.

Blurry minutes stumbled by and became blurry hours. Crying and laughter alternated among yourselves in a confusing melody that somehow complemented rather than disrupted the windchime. When your legs became too weak to sustain you, you sat among the flowers.

The garden became a stage for tales from across the vast sea, reminiscences of a boy who had too much in his heart to keep it in. You listened and, when Thoma’s voice failed him, the siblings supplied with some of their own tales.

“That reminds me of the time when Thoma thought the fireflies on the ceiling in his bedroom were evil spirits…”

“My lord, must you revive that story?”

“I do not remember that one, and I would very much like to hear it.”

“Not you too, milady!”

“I imagine that my lord told Thoma of a proper ritual do cleanse the spirits?”

“Indeed, Hitomi, you would be correct.”

“Archons…”

You stored all of those stories in box in a corner of your mind. You intended to revisit them later. This time, not to put them under magnifying lenses and look for secrets, weaknesses, and opportunities, but just to keep warm alone at night.

You had no idea what time it was when Ayato rose.

“I am afraid I should retire for tonight.”

“To bed, I hope, and not to work more,” Ayaka said, and even the concern in her tone could not dull the sharpness of her stare. Ayato smiled as if he had not felt it.

“Rest assured, Ayaka, that I will be getting as much sleep as I deserve.”

Ayaka repressed a sigh before getting up as well. Thoma shifted in place.

“I can prepare some calming tea before you both get to bed.”

“That is very attentive, Thoma, but please, not today. I believe you deserve some more time to enjoy the garden.”

The way Ayato’s eyes settled on you when he spoke made you aware that you were also a recipient of that message. You bowed your head, a silent thank you. The Kamisatos headed in, and you and Thoma were left alone in the garden.

For the first time that night, it was silent. Even the wind seemed to have decided to take a break from its own music. You forced yourself to meet Thoma’s gaze, hoping that, once you did, you would realize that you had only imagined the strange bubbling in your stomach.

You hadn’t.

“How did you do all of this?”

Amazement colored his voice. You took a blade of grass between your fingers and twisted it.

“I got the seeds from Omi, and then Shinobu did the landscaping. I wanted to get cecilias, but we didn’t have enough wind here.”

“It’s perfect.” The words followed immediately, like he was stating a fact that he did not want you to doubt for a second. Thoma cast his eyes down, suddenly taken by the blades of grass as well. “Why… why did you have this idea?”

“I don’t know. I just had it. I wanted to. So I did it.”

It was far from an eloquent phrasing, but you refused to develop it further. You did not want to think about how the idea had taken root in your mind not as part of a plan to garner even more of Thoma’s trust but from the moment you had seen the sparkle in his eyes at Omi’s shop. You wanted to see that again. You wanted to.

Thoma accepted the justification with little more than a hum. A cloud of wistfulness crossed his gaze.

“You know, cecilias were my mother’s favorites. But me…” His fingers gingerly brushed the red petals. “I’ve always preferred windwheel asters.”

You snorted. “Figures.” Noticing Thoma’s curious stare, you clarified, “Everything about windwheel asters screams of you.”

“How so?”

You scooched closer to another flower, inspecting your work. The leaves sprouting from the stem were a deep green and smooth to the touch, attesting to the flower’s health. You loved that shade of green. It was full of life. Life that you, in contrast to everything you had learned and done throughout the years, had helped flourish.

“Windwheel asters are very adaptable. They take well to any kind of soil and their roots grow deep. All you have to do is invest some time and attention, find a place with reasonably good wind, and they retribute a hundred times over.”

The words flowed from your lips like rain. Hesitant at first, then all at once. So much that you lost control of the downpour. After so many days of intensive dedication to the windwheel asters, just looking at them filled you with an immense sense of pride and glee. Perhaps they were also on the way to becoming your favorites.

“They look so simple at first. The color catches your attention, but it doesn’t hold it. But if you take some time to look at them more closely, you notice how intricately their petals bend… how incredibly beautiful they are.”

There was a rustle in the grass, and your eyes snapped back to Thoma. He stared at you with wide eyes and mouth agape.

“Is that how you see me?”

You moved your hand away from the windwheel aster and let your tone drift into a more familiar one, with calculated traces of mockery.

“You don’t care about how people see you, remember?”

The wind had not reappeared, and the world around you was silent. Yet, there was an intensity to Thoma’s gaze that screamed loudly at your ears, a thousand gusts bursting from all directions and leaving you disoriented.

It was not the same green as the windwheel asters’ leaves, but a lighter one. It still held the same vibrancy of life, though.

“I care about how you see me.”

The words startled you less than his tone did. Quiet and firm, so different from the hesitancy with which he had asked the question but a few seconds prior. It was earnest.

“You shouldn’t, really.”

“But I do.”

As your mind still scrambled to make sense of that change, Thoma inched closer, keeping his stare on you at all times. His hand reached out to yours in a loose hold, allowing you to pull away any time you wanted. You saw his throat bob and a sharp breath run though, but at no moment did Thoma waver.

“Hitomi. How do you see me?”

The answer was obvious. You would tell him that you saw him as a good friend, as someone you cared about. And that would be a lie. Because, underneath the surface, there was only one way in which you could see Thoma. An obstacle, an enemy. Someone you would not hesitate to eliminate should the situation call for it. Everything you had done in Inazuma had been with the goal of getting him to drop his guard around you so it would be easier to strike. Now he had.

It was simple, so simple. Your entire life, you had lied, effortlessly picking on what people wanted to hear and using it to your advantage. Fawned over government officials to get a job done, appeased Baptiste so he would not see the cracks within you, told yourself that youneeded to survive no matter the cost, that you were worth surviving.

You just had to do the same in response to Thoma’s question. You had to lie, like you had many times before. You had to say that you thought the world of him, because that should be a lie.

It did not feel like one.

You pulled your hand back and stood up.

“I’m tired. I’m going to bed.”

You made the mistake of looking into his eyes. You caught the exact moment they faltered, surprise and hurt mixing at your curt reaction. Even as you turned your back to him and walked towards the building, you could see those eyes at the back of your mind.

You halted under the doorframe. You chewed on your lip and then, before you could second-guess yourself, spoke, “Like a windwheel aster.”

You slipped inside without seeing Thoma’s reaction.

You only live once, the bold say. The anxious know better: you live at least twice. First, the moment you do, or fail to do, something. Then, when you lie awake in bed, watching all the moments of the day flash through your mind at agonizing speed. Especially the embarrassing ones.

“Like a windwheel aster.”

Your hands flew to your face, covering your eyes and muffling the curses that flew out of your mouth.

You were not sure what that even meant. It sounded like one of those confounding poems Ayaka read to you, and you hated it.

You hated the way your mind drifted back to the moment he took your hand, the memory of warmth ghosting over it. You hated his expression when you got up to leave. You hated that you did not turn around one last time.

You hated to admit it. You had, against your better judgment and taste, developed a crush. On Thoma.

You flopped onto your belly and shoved your head against the pillow. Seeing that was not enough to make you lose consciousness – not that such a thing would help your predicament anyway –, you tried to reason with yourself.

It had been years since you had done such a long-term infiltration. And it was hard to think of a job where the people had been as kind to you as the Kamisatos. As Thoma. It was natural to be attracted to that, to being valued. It did not go further than that. You had had a crush on Beidou for far longer, and that would not stop you from dragging the Captain’s name through the mud when her illicit operations for the Kamisatos were revealed.

Even so, you made sure to gulp down your coffee like a thirsty wanderer in a desert the next day and say that you had to run to the city to get more fertilizer, barely giving Thoma the chance to open his mouth during breakfast. He still insisted that you took some tamagoyaki to eat on the way. You did not think you would be able to eat with how your stomach churned.

To your relief, your uneasiness did not last long, and the walk to Inazuma City helped clear your mind. You plopped down on a seat at Kiminami Restaurant and ordered some berry mizu manjuu to regain your energy. It did not take long before the seat next to you was occupied.

You had never seen Itto with such a sour look on his face.

“What onikabuto bit you?” you asked, sliding him one of the manjuu. Itto shoved it into his mouth without looking at you.

“They would never! Onikabuto are the most loyal little buggies out there, unlike some people. Who aren’t bugs. But, y’know, aren’t loyal either. After all I’ve done for them!”

You waited until he was done chewing, knowing that Itto would not be able to keep the suspense for too long. He swallowed and continued.

“Saika, Iwao, and Matsuzaka were supposed to play Genius Invokation TCG with me this morning, but then I come and find out that they are out with Yoimiya and some adventurer from Mondstadt. The guy even called himself a ‘youkai specialist’, can you believe it? More specialist than me? I am a youkai!”

“Preposterous,” you replied in a flat tone, motioning for Anna to bring another round of manjuu. Itto looked like he needed it.

“But noooo, they want him to track down the Great Mujina Youkai instead of me, all because he beat up some hillichurls and helped Iwao – I beat up hillichurls all the time! Where is my appreciation?”

 “Where indeed.”

“And he has a stupid name. Who calls themselves Tortellini?”

On that you had to unironically agree. It did not sound like a Mondstadtian name at all.

“Oh, look at that. Here they come, and no Great Mujina Youkai on sight. Humpf! Now they beg for my help!”

You turned on your seat and quickly spotted Yoimiya coming up the street with three children rollicking around her and, above all, the man who accompanied her.

And that was when the blood in your veins froze. Because beside Yoimiya, laughing and patting the head of one of the children like he had not a care in the world, was Tartaglia, the eleventh of the Fatui Harbingers.

Chapter Text

For all Sylvain liked to brag about his quick reflexes, he did not have a chance when you pounced. His back hit the ground heavily and, if the street behind the Steambird were not deserted that time of night, it might have startled someone. He tried to sit up, only to be stopped by the pressure of metal against his throat. Weight pushed against his chest, causing his breath to hitch for a moment. Then, when his vision refocused, it evened out.

You hated how his limbs relaxed under you. How his pupils returned to their normal size and he did not struggle even as your knife dug deeper, almost piercing the barrier of his skin.

You had been planning that moment for weeks. Ever since you had felt the harsh winds slapping your face and screaming at you to run, not to look back, not to waste the opportunity of living for another day. You hadn’t. Even when your legs had throbbed, the memory of the Electro trap still making your muscles twitch. Even when the snow had threatened to swallow you under the earth. Instead, you had thought of all the things you would say to Sylvain, to make him regret leaving her behind.

Now, looking at him, you could not remember any of them.

The silence stretched out for long enough that he spoke first.

“So I take the meeting with the Croque-mitaine didn’t go well?”

It should have been more satisfying, you thought, the sound of his jaw cracking under your fist. The sight of a red fillet trailing down his lips. But your chest heaved, your breathing was erratic, and it didn’t hurt enough. You wanted more, more, more, until your knuckles bled, and your throat burned, and you could squeeze your beating heart in your hands until it stopped.

Sylvain spat to the side, the pink mix of saliva and blood running through the cracks on the pavement. Aside from that, he looked unbothered.

“That bad, huh?”

“He blamed me for getting caught. Said we can’t risk operating in Snezhnaya after that.” Those weren’t the words you had rehearsed. But they were the ones coming out, and you couldn’t stop.

Sylvain grimaced. “Yeah, it’s probably best for now.”

“I got caught because of you!”

Those words seemed to ricochet off the walls and hit back at you. They hit harder than the punch had. For the first time since your eyes had met, Sylvain dropped his smirk. The fire in your chest raged on.

“I got caught. Because of you. If you had stayed for just another second-”

“There was no time-”

“There was plenty of time! We’ve escaped from worse! You left me there to die!”

“I mourned you.”

Another fist flew to his face. Too slow, too predictable. And by then, the shakiness in your breath had moved to your hands, allowing Sylvain to push the dagger away and shove you off him. You lost your balance and fell flat on your back, giving him plenty of time to scramble to his feet and pull out his gun. It was aimed at your head.

“I’m serious,” Sylvain said slowly, voice steadying. “I didn’t think you had made it out alive.”

“I almost didn’t.”

The Eleventh Harbinger had not been amused about finding you down one of his colleagues’ secret lair, abandoned though it might have been. You had offered him a fake name, but the rest of it had been true enough. That you had found the place by accident and was trying to get out of there. That you had no knowledge about nor interest in the Fatui’s schemes. The tears streaming down your cheeks as your throat was squeezed tighter and tighter.

In the end, it was your helplessness that saved you. Again.

You shook your head before the memory could take over. Your mouth felt like it was filled with cotton, and yet the words tumbled forward.

“Why did you leave?”

Sylvain’s shoulders trembled as a sigh escaped his lips. The grip on the gun remained steady as ever.

“Marmotte, we’ve been working together for almost ten years. You know as well as I do that, if we keep putting other people before ourselves, we’re just gonna end up dead. Be honest, would you sacrifice yourself for anyone in this group?”

You would. You had. “It’s what the Croque-mitaine expects of us.”

“Oh, please. Do you still need him to wipe your ass and kiss you goodnight?”

“Fuck you-”

“No, marmotte, I’m serious. Do you plan on living in Baptiste’s shadow forever? Is that all there is for you?”

“You’re not supposed to call him that outside of the HQ.”

The reply came instantly, a kneejerk reaction. It was the answer Sylvain needed.

There was something almost sullen in his eyes as he said, “You lack ambition, marmotte.”

A couple of days later, when Sylvain sat at the table for breakfast, an ocean blue gem was pinned to his collar. Just like the one you had so often dreamed of.

“Well, well, well! I knew you wouldn’t be able to do it without Arataki the Red-Horned Swashbuckler Itto!”

Said oni climbed down the staircase in the direction of the group, hands on his hips and head held up higher than he should, considering the average height of his audience.

“I’m disappointed it took you this long to realize. But, as proof of my large, generous heart, I’m willing to forgive you just like that. Now take your decks out and let’s play!”

The three kids exchanged a look, which only left Itto more exasperated.

“Come on, no need to be shy! I know you’re disappointed you failed to catch the Great Mujina Youkai, but seriously, what were you expecting? There are other fish in the sea and there are other games to play. Like Genius Invokation TCG. Now, chop-chop.”

“Itto, we didn’t go looking for the Great Mujina Youkai,” Saika said.

“No?”

“No, Big Sis Yoimiya told us that the Lady Guuji would be very upset if we went out tracking youkai on our own. So she and Big Bro Tartaglia are going to the Grand Narukami Shrine to ask her permission!”

“Oh, this makes sen- wait. He is going to ask permission to the Guuji to track down the Great Mujina Youkai? I am clearly the most qualified to do that!”

“That would be great, Itto!” Yoimiya interjected excitedly. “I thought of asking you to come along, but I didn’t know if you were still uneasy around Guuji Yae.”

“What?” Itto scoffed. “I ain’t afraid of that old kitsune! Nuh-uh, not this oni!”

“Perfect then! Oh, and Hitomi, you should come too!”

During the entire exchange, you had stood still as a statue, focusing all your attention on finding an opportunity to slip away unnoticed. The Eleventh Harbinger did not let you; not with the way his dull eyes had remained pinned on you.

“Hitomi?”

His tone was carefree, with just a slight hint of curiosity. As if he did not really care who you were, but wanted to be included in the conversation. You had never thought he could sound like that – normal, without a blade shining sharp underneath each word.

You had given him a different name back then. Of a Fontainian adventurer who had gotten lost in the tundra and accidentally fallen into the Second Harbinger’s abandoned laboratory. Even so, you were certain the promise he had made applied regardless of how you were called.

Yoimiya clasped her hands together.

“Oh yeah, I almost forgot to introduce you two! Tartaglia, this is my good friend Hitomi! Hitomi, this is Tartaglia, an adventurer from Mondstadt.”

He had not even bothered to change his alias. A daring move, if not an idiotic one, considering what had happened to the last Harbinger that had set foot in Inazuma. Nevertheless, it seemed that, even with that poor cover, Yoimiya and the others did not know his true identity.

“Is that so. Well, pleasure to meet you, Hitomi!”

“The pleasure is all mine, Tartaglia.”

The words felt strange on your lips, like reciting a text in a language you did not know. Tartaglia continued to beam at you in everything but his eyes.

“Should we get going now?” Yoimiya asked, throwing you a hopeful glance. You found yourself shaking your head before you realized what you were doing.

Accompanying the group to the Shrine was out of the question. You were not certain that Tartaglia had recognized you – it had, after all, been a brief encounter, and you were only one of the thousands of faces he had probably threatened throughout his life – but every moment spent near him was a chance that he would.

What he could possibly be doing in Inazuma was a question whose answer eluded you completely. Although the Fatui had not been formally banned from Inazuma after the repeal of the Vision Hunt Decree – yet another mystery to you –, their reputation had taken an irreversible blow after their role in the civil war was made public. Having a Harbinger there could only spell danger to anyone near.

Your eyes snapped to Yoimiya.

“Yoimiya, before you go, there are some issues about the latest orders that I wanted to discuss with you.”

“Seriously, compadre? Can’t you see we’re dealing with a much more serious matter?”

In the time it took you to think of a reply to Itto that would not have been too inappropriate to the children’s ears, another voice joined in.

“Are you sure we haven’t met before, comrade?” You fought the urge to take a step back as you took in Tartaglia’s smile. Its edges stretched too much.

“I don’t think so. I would remember.”

“Ah, so you’re good with faces. Can’t say the same for me. Though, if you do remember something, then I certainly will as well. Just let me know.”

His grin was all teeth, a wolf baring its fangs. Tartaglia was not subtle in his threats, but that did not make them less effective.

You would not tell Yoimiya. Not when it put your own survival at risk.

“Are we going, then? I insist you come with us, Hitomi. I will be looking at some good luck charms to take home as souvenirs and I would love your input.”

“Ha! Do you all hear this guy? How can you expect to find the Great Mujina Youkai with this lack of focus? At this rate, you won’t even find the Ordinary Mujina Youkai, which, may I remind you, is much less astute than the Great Mujina Youkai. Which is why, you know, he’s Great.”

“Haha, don’t worry about that, comrade.” For the first time since you had met, Tartaglia’s eyes left you. But even when his gaze was settled upon Itto, you were certain his words were meant for you. “You’ll find I’m great at multitasking.”

You had not visited the Grand Narukami Shrine since your dealings with Mitsue. Even so, you had become familiar enough with the surrounding area to trace a mental map. You searched deep into your mind for every nook and corner along the way, every slippery slope, monster camp, anything Tartaglia could use to have you all killed and make it look like an accident or simply hide your bodies. If he cared for those things. He might not.

You told yourself that the walk ahead was still the best option, however bleak it looked. If Tartaglia tried anything, you would be accompanied by two Vision wielders and close to the Kamisato Estate. Even though Yoimiya and Itto were certainly not strong enough to defeat a Harbinger, they might be able to contain him for long enough for you all to escape. And if he decided to get you alone later, you could hide away at the Estate for a while without seeming too suspicious.

It was the worst plan you had ever had.

You bit back a sigh and steeled yourself for a long, tense walk under the watchful eyes of the Eleventh Fatui Harbinger.

Only those eyes seemed to be focused anywhere but you. Especially as Itto insisted on challenging him every three steps.

“What’s the matter, comrade? Out of breath already?” taunted Tartaglia from the top of a rock Itto had claimed he could get to before the Harbinger.

“HA! As if! I was taking it easy to assess your performance before I took it seriously! That’s called strategy, you know. Besides, you still can’t find more onikabuto than I can along the way!”

“Oh, is that a bet?”

“It’s so great to see they are getting along!” Yoimiya chirped as she and you followed the trail some good few meters behind the men.

You would not have used that descriptor, but you did not argue. For once, you were overwhelmingly grateful for Itto’s boisterous personality.

“Are you alright, Hitomi? You seem awfully quiet today.”

It was not worth pretending that was not the case. A practiced reply flew out. “Sorry, just thinking about all the things I still need to do today.”

“Oh, okay! I hope this little trip hasn’t thrown you too much off your schedule. But I’m really glad you got to meet Tartaglia before he leaves! He’s pretty fun, and great with children.”

You hummed, unsure of what else you could say. Yoimiya was not particularly difficult to fool, as you well knew, but the thought that Tartaglia would have been able to completely obscure his ruthlessness around Yoimiya was ludicrous. The man was not particularly known for being an actor, especially after the incident in Liyue Harbor.

“The kids didn’t want to leave him alone, but he said he wanted to get some souvenirs for his siblings and that was the only was I-”

“How did you meet him?” you interrupted, glaring ahead as Tartaglia and Itto beat around bushes to look for onikabuto.

“It was crazy! He saved Iwao from wandering into a hillichurl camp a few days ago, and then escorted Iwao to where the other kids and I were. You weren’t around, I think you were still working on the garden… Has Thoma seen it yet? How did he react?”

The questions flew over your head unacknowledged. “Do you know anything about this guy?”

“Tartaglia? We talked a bit, mostly about his siblings. He’s got five, can you believe it? Three younger than him, and he’s always promising to get them gifts when he travels abroad. He asked me for ideas, so I thought-”

“Don’t you think you’re being awfully quick to trust someone you know nothing about?”

The edge in your voice was completely lost to Yoimiya. Instead, the blonde laughed.

“All friends were strangers once! Don’t you remember that first day when I ran into you? Literally?”

“I didn’t ask you to take me to secluded places within days of knowing you.”

“He didn’t ask, I-”

“For Archon’s sake, Yoimiya, you can’t be that blind.”

The words echoed in the silence that stretched across the two of you and, despite their weight, you held your chin up. Their harshness had been intended. They were supposed to cause shock, to hurt, and that pain would serve as a warning but not as a lesson, and that would have to be enough. It was the kindest option.

But as Yoimiya held your gaze, it was not hurt nor confusion that shone in her eyes. Something else, more tired – and that tiredness became more apparent in her chuckle.

“You really have a habit of doing that.”

You frowned. “What?”

“Interrupting me when I talk.”

Your step faltered, an invisible rope pulling at your ankles. You forced yourself to keep pace beside Yoimiya.

“No, I don’t.”

A sigh escaped Yoimiya’s lips – resignation. It was such a foreign emotion on that bright face, and you felt a knot in your stomach.

“I know you don’t do it on purpose, but I really wish you would pay attention to that. Sometimes it feels like you’re not paying attention, or you don’t care what I have to say.”

“That’s not true.”

“I know, I just-”

“And why are you changing the topic about Tartaglia?”

Yoimiya flinched and, this time, you regretted insisting. The light upwards quirk of her lips only made her eyes seem duller now.

“You know, Hitomi, I wish you would give me more credit.”

Yoimiya picked up the pace, and you knew, as you gauged the growing distance between yourself and your friend’s back, that the conversation was over. Then you realized that you were the one who had slowed down.

By the time the group reached the Grand Narukami Shrine, Tartaglia had climbed to the top of rocks before Itto, found a sturdier onikabuto than the one Itto had, and decimated two of a trio of Electro Whopperflowers, with Itto claiming that the one he had beaten had been much stronger than the others and therefore should count as three. Though Yoimiya had tried to mediate, the two had been unable to reach an agreement, which led Itto to declare that their next duel should be seeing who got the best fortune from the Shine – for luck, though arbitrary, is still an important attribute for any hero, Itto claimed.

You did not participate in the discussion. You had barely spoken a word since the conversation with Yoimiya and, though the blonde had tried to get your input a few times, there was a rigidity to those attempts. As if Yoimiya was doing that only to prove there were no hard feelings between you, even if Yoimiya had been clearly displeased about your attitude. It made you want to speak even less.

Which sat perfectly fine with you. It gave more room for you to focus on Tartaglia and whatever foul play he might try. And if a small part of you kept quiet out of spite to prove that you did not have the habit of interrupting Yoimiya, that was all it was – a small, inconsequential part.

The Shrine was relatively quiet that day, aside from a handful of people praying in front of the Sacred Sakura and hanging fortune slips. A Shrine Maiden quickly came to greet them and, upon noticing Tartaglia’s unfamiliar face, chirpily engaged into an explanation of the Shrine’s history and purpose. Itto rocked on his heels impatiently for a full three seconds before declaring that he was going ahead to secure the fortune slips.

You remained a few steps away from Yoimiya and Tartaglia, watching the Harbinger’s every move.

“I see, so you also sell amulets to ward off evil spirits… I think Anton would like one of those. And an omamori for Tonia, of course.”

“Do you still have those kitsune figurines? From what Tartaglia has told me about Teucer, I think he might enjoy them!”

“Great idea, Yoimiya! I’ll have one of those as well.”

The Shrine Maiden excused herself to pick up the items. All the while, Tartaglia continued to grin at Yoimiya, praising her gift-picking abilities and thanking her for her help. It made your stomach churn.

What could possibly be his goal there? Information-gathering? Was there anything at the Shrine of interest to the Fatui? But then why wasn’t he insisting you walk around more, checking the perimeter? Even your watchfulness could not detect any hint of Tartaglia’s interest in his surroundings. The only other explanation would be that he was trying to extract something from Yoimiya herself.

“Hitomi, are you okay?”

You blinked, vision readjusting to meet Yoimiya’s concerned gaze.

“You look a bit tense.”

You flexed your fingers, which you then realized you had been clenching into fists. Before you could think of an answer, Itto jumped back into the fray.

“Alright-y, compadres! Let’s see who wins this one, huh? One slip for Yoimiya, one for Hitomi-homie, one for Tarantella, and one for the hero of Hanamizaka, this guy!”

The rustling of paper filled the air as the group unfolded their fortune slips. Yoimiya was the first to react.

“The clouds disperse, revealing the moon in the sky. Whoever draws this slip will receive great fortune. Oh, nice! That’s a great fortune!”

“Hey, I got great fortune as well!” Tartaglia chimed. “Whenever you draw your blade, it shall lead you towards victory. The shine of your blade as it leaves its sheath will also inspire those around you. Now that sounds fun.”

“Ha! What are the chances? Mine’s a great fortune too! Today the wind will pick up, and you will succeed effortlessly in whatever you do. Sounds just like another day in the life of Arataki the Amazing Daredevil Itto!”

“What did you get, Hitomi?” Yoimiya asked, peeping over your shoulder. You bit back a sigh, but let her.

Think twice before you make a decision. Misfortune.

“Hey, don’t worry about it!” Yoimiya said quickly, squeezing your shoulder. “We just gotta hang the slips and any less-than-ideal fortune will go away! Let’s go!”

The men wasted no time following Yoimiya’s orders, the pyrotechnician herself trailing close behind. Tartaglia did not spare you a single glance. His behavior befuddled you in a way few things had in your career. There was little to no sign of the brash, deadly Harbinger you had met in Snezhnaya. There was no way he could be such a fantastic actor, otherwise the incident in Liyue Harbor wouldn’t have been such a huge diplomatic fiasco.

Or maybe that was what you were telling yourself because you did not want him to surpass you in yet another thing.

“You’re going to burn a hole through his back if you keep staring like that.”

And maybe you really should get down from your high horse and actively pay attention to your surroundings. Then you would be able to avoid undignified jumps and a premature heart attack like the one you had just gotten.

At least you did not have to worry about schooling your expression to a neutral one. Terror was a most fitting look for anyone interacting with the leader of the Grand Narukami Shrine.

“Guuji Yae,” You acknowledged, promptly bowing.

An amused smirk played at the kitsune’s lips, the same one she had held throughout your first encounter. Behind her, you spotted a Shrine Maiden, the same one who had insisted on offering you fortune slips that day so many months ago. Gone was her cheerful smile, replaced by an anxious grimace and hands that fiddled her hems of her sleeves incessantly. Another woman accompanied her, her appearance common in everything but the notebook on which she furiously scribbled.

“So you still remember me,” Yae Miko spoke, commanding the fullness of your attention once again. “And here I thought you did not care for the Shrine, as you never bothered to come back. Or perhaps is the work at the Kamisato household so demanding that you could not find a single moment to spare for the Almighty Narukami Ogosho?”

Words meant to tease and fluster. That, you knew how to deal with. “The fault is all mine, Guuji Yae. I fear I have used my free time getting re-acquainted with the city, since it has been so long since I left Inazuma. But I should have paid the Shrine the proper respects, please forgive me.”

“Oh? You certainly seem tamer than the last time I saw you, little fox. I hope this hasn’t damped your creativity.”

You frowned, stopping short of arching an eyebrow. The priestess delighted in your confusion for a moment before flicking her wrist, a gesture that had the woman with the notebook run forward immediately. The Shrine Maiden followed much more hesitantly.

“As you must be aware, Yae Publishing House is always trying to resonate with the readers. So I am helping one of my writers gauge some perceptions about the story she is working on and get a better idea of how to move forward.”

“Yes!” the writer exclaimed, nodding so profusely that you feared she would drop her notebook. “The story follows a ninja assassin who is hired to dispose of the heir of a rival clan. But he ends up falling in love with the heir instead and cannot bring himself to fulfil his task! Torn between love and duty, the ninja must make the most difficult decision of all!”

Silence followed, in which the writer stared wide-eyed at you, mouth open without a sound coming out. For a moment, it seemed that the writer expected you to shout something – shrill at the ninja’s predicament, confidently declare that you knew which one he would choose. To be fair, you did know which one in a realistic scenario. No ninja that was good enough to be hired by a major clan would throw it away because of some half-baked affection. That was probably the opposite of what the readers wanted, though.

“So?” the writer finally asked, her fingers wiggling against the notebook’s page. “What do you think?”

“It sounds interesting. Very… intense.” You spotted Tartaglia at the corner of your eye, stretching his arms to hang his fortune slip around the highest bar. Yoimiya was laughing about something.

“And what do you think about the ninja’s dilemma?”

“Quite troublesome. I wonder what will happen.”

Tartaglia moved a hand into his pocket. The muscles in your neck tensed, alert that he might finally make his move.

A blue starconch rested on his palm, and the sight had Yoimiya beaming.

Just as you were starting to feel the bile rise in your stomach, a hand came to rest on your shoulder. Yae Miko’s breath tickled your ear, that rich lilt dropping to a whisper.

“Perhaps you would have more substantial remarks if you focused on our conversation instead trying to kill the little lost Harbinger with your eyes?”

Yae Miko chuckled at the astonished look you made no point in hiding.

“My, my, did you really think I wouldn’t know exactly who visits my Shrine? Very discourteous of you.”

You ignored the chilly implication of her words and focused on the current problem. “Then why are you just letting him stroll around?” the question came as a hiss, an accusation. It did not bother Yae Miko in the least.

“He poses no threat. What he’s looking for has already left the country.”

Those words were not as assuaging as the Guuji hoped – or perhaps she hadn’t hoped at all. Instead, you were assaulted by questions of how in Teyvat did she know, what exactly was the Harbinger’s plan, and was he a threat to Yoimiya?

But of course, Yae Miko had her own agenda for the day, and that did not include indulging you.

“Now, I would encourage you to stop wasting time and focus on our discussion.” Yae Miko turned her head to the writer and the Shrine Maiden, who had stepped back and engaged into a conversation of their own. “Gendou Ringo has already given Matsuri some insightful feedback on how to make the ninja’s motivations more believable.”

Upon hearing that, the Shrine Maiden – Gendou Ringo – pipped up.

“I- I only said that it could be nice to show the ninja’s becoming interested in a simpler kind of life, instead of only in the heir. At least that’s what I would imagine, from- er, reading other novels.”

The Shrine Maiden looked like she could choke on her words, a drastic change from the cheery countenance she had shown last time you had been to the Shrine. You supposed it had to do with the Guuji’s presence.

“In other words, you think that love alone is not enough to drive a change in allegiance.” Yae Miko’s dry analytical tone had the writer picking up a pencil and scribbling down furiously. Though her expression was serious, her purple eyes had an amused gleam as she turned to you. “What do you think of that? What could cause the ninja to desist from the assassination?”

The irony of the question wasn’t lost to you, even if Yae Miko herself did not know. That was what you kept telling yourself – Yae Miko could not possibly know. And yet, the hairs on the back of your head stood up the more the Guuji stared, and your every instinct pushed you to avoid the question.

“Gendou Ringo’s point is a good one. Someone as trained as a ninja would hardly let themselves be overwhelmed by such feelings… I’m not sure I can be of much more help, though, I’m not a big reader.”

“I never pegged you for one.” was Yae Miko’s curt reply. “But I did think we had established quite an amicable rapport last time you came. Do the Kamisatos know how cute you look in a Shrine Maiden uniform?”

It was a testament to your willpower, the way you smiled instead of gritting your teeth. Yae Miko couldn’t prove anything, not really, the defiant side of your screamed – no one had seen you in that disguise. But for some reason, your mind ran back to that smiling kitsune and another shiver ran down your spine.

Antagonizing the Guuji would do you no good, especially over some piece of fiction.

You crossed your arms. “If we are talking about a ninja, I imagine it is someone who received intensive training from an early age to perform these kinds of tasks. It would take something very serious to make him turn his back on his masters. Maybe if he finds out they were responsible for killing his entire family.”

To your growing unease, the Guuji’s smile only widened, almost showing teeth.

“My, my, that sounds drastic. So nothing else could change his mind?”

There was challenge in her tone. As though she expected you to reconsider. No – rather, she dared you to reaffirm your view. And you never did refuse a challenge, even when the words seemed to weigh your tongue down.

“No. Nothing.”

The walk back from the Shrine had been even more tiring than the way up. Or perhaps your interaction with the Guuji had simply drained your last energy reserves. The writer hadn’t seemed too happy about your remark on the story, but Yae Miko had let you go with a nod and a proposition that you catch up more often. It felt more like a threat than an invitation. But you could dissect the Guuji’s behavior later. For the moment, there was another threat that required your attention.

Tartaglia had chattered incessantly, thanking Yoimiya for the gift ideas, musing about how his siblings would react, and even asking Itto to help him catch an onikabuto for his youngest brother, a mission the oni accepted as if it were an honor. Tartaglia barely glanced at you the entire way.

So when you reached the foot of the mountain and Yoimiya asked you if you had any other errands to run in the city, you had all but yanked the pyrotechnician aside so the men would not be able to hear your conversation.

“Yoimiya, you shouldn’t go back with them.”

The corners of Yoimiya’s mouth dropped.

“Is this about you not liking Tartaglia?”

“It’s not about liking, I don’t trust him. And neither should you.”

“Hitomi, really, he has been nothing but-”

“Yoimiya, you barely know him! Have you ever asked anything about Mondstadt to him? Is Tartaglia even a Mondstadtian name?”

The change in her countenance was immediate. Yoimiya did not frown or grimace, but a shadow had clouded the sparkle in her eyes.

“I really wish you wouldn’t do that anymore.”

“Worrying about you?”

“Cutting me off.”

There was no more argument after that. Yoimiya simply turned around and followed Tartaglia and Itto back to Inazuma City, while you returned to the Kamisato Estate. The alarm bells in your head hadn’t entirely quieted, but you tried to be reasonable – if Tartaglia wanted to get rid of Yoimiya and Itto, he would have done so already. It was not like you would have been able to thwart him. No, if anything, going with them would be inviting the Harbinger to get you alone on the road on the way back.

No matter how you looked at it, the day had been a waste – all the worry, the unsettling conversation with the Guuji, knowing that the Eleventh Harbinger was again in the same country as you. That would have been enough to light rage in your chest, stoke the need to break something, do something you could control.

If only it weren’t for those words.

“I really wished you wouldn’t do that anymore.”

You had never seen such sorrow in Yoimiya’s eyes – had never seen any trace of sadness in them before. It was unsettling. Like it went against the very nature of things, like fire burning cold.

And you had been the cause of it.

“Sometimes it feels like you’re not paying attention, or you don’t care what I have to say.”

She had made it sound like you were so insensitive, but that couldn’t be the case. You had done everything right. Played the role of a perfectly good friend, smiled at the right times, helped Yoimiya when she needed, did everything to get close to her. And kept close.

Even when you did not need to anymore.

The air whacked through your nose instead of just flowing in. It felt denser - heavier. Even when you stopped and put your hands on her knees, chest heaving, and you did not know if it was the weight of something that could not come out or something that you would not let in.

Your head felt light, which only left more space for Yoimiya’s voice to echo there. The more you tried to shush it, the stronger it became.

It was no wonder that you did not hear the footsteps behind you.

“Hey, there! Fixing dinner already?”

You blinked a couple of times, vision slowly refocusing on the knife in your hands and the chopped vegetables before you. There was more than you needed for the soup.

Wood creaked as Thoma pulled a chair and sat down by the small table.

“Can you come over for a second?”

You chopped a few more slices, using those precious seconds of having your back turned to Thoma to manually re-instill some rhythm to your breathing. Then you turned.

The smile you had come to know so well was there but, instead of a comforting warmth, this one vibrated with energy. Like Thoma could barely keep himself seated. His eyes flickered down to the table, inviting you to do the same.

The book’s cover resembled the color of moss, splattered with drops of light blues, yellows and pinks. Belatedly, you realized they were not random, but were supposed to represent petals. The title shone in gold letters: A Guide to Teyvatian Flora.

“What’s this?”

“It’s for you,” Thoma announced, giving the book a light push in your direction. “It talks about flowers from all the seven nations – where they usually grow, their meaning in local culture... I thought you might like it.”

The last part was added more quietly, but no less brightly. Your ribcage suddenly felt too small for your heart.

“You didn’t have to. You don’t owe me anything.”

“I know that.” His voice was patient, as if he had expected your hesitation. “But I wanted to. You’ve been so committed to the garden, and I can see that you really like dealing with flowers, so…”

He let the words hang in the air. An invitation. Part of you wanted to refuse, turn back and never wonder what Thoma could possibly have been thinking when he bought the book. The other part flipped it open.

It was a thick volume, and the author had clearly tried to be as comprehensive as possible in their compilation. The pages contained several illustrations of each flower and even a map of where to find them. The text described the flowers’ characteristics, instructions on how to care for them, their potential uses as medicine or in recipes. Your fingers brushed against the ink that made up the petals of a marcotte, as carefully as if you were touching the real flower.

The chair creaked against the floor again, and Thoma’s voice sounded closer.

“Do you like it?”

You lifted your eyes from the book, only to find Thoma had hunched over the table. There was a hint of nervousness in his smile. Like the only thing he wanted at that moment was for you to say yes. It made you feel light-headed again.

“I do.”

There was so much you wanted to say after that. To properly thank him. To say that he shouldn’t have done that. That you couldn’t wait to put your hands on all the flowers in the book. That he shouldn’t be looking at you like that. That you didn’t want him to stop.

But the words that rolled off your tongue instead were, “Yoimiya and I had a fight.”

Thoma did not frown, did not seem perturbed by the abrupt change in subject. He just took your hand, guided you to sit down, and waited. And you told him. Not about there being a Fatui Harbinger in Inazuma, because you could not begin to think how you would explain that. But about how you didn’t trust this alleged adventurer. How you voiced your suspicions to Yoimiya. What Yoimiya had replied.

“She said I have a habit of cutting her off.”

Thoma hummed. Not judging, not dismissing. Just waiting. “What do you think about that?”

Your shoulders shook as you exhaled. “I get impatient sometimes. It’s like her mind goes off in a thousand different directions and she’s missing the point.”

You regretted those words as soon as they left you. It sounded like a petty complaint, and it felt terribly disloyal. After everything Yoimiya had done for you. Even if you had sought her out and tried to shape your relationship into what you needed for the job, Yoimiya had gone further than that. Committed to the friendship with Hitomi to a point where even you found yourself looking forward to spending time with the pyrotechnician.

To a point where you – wrongly, stupidly, but still – considered Yoimiya your friend.

Your expression must have changed, because Thoma’s voice was even softer when he asked, “But if she doesn’t get to finish, how do you know she missed it?”

And it was that softness, the way it slipped underneath your defenses rather than tore them down, enveloped you instead of crushing, that did it.

You let your head hang low, resisting the urge to bury it in your arms. Exhaustion seeped from your bones and into your voice.

“I am a shitty friend. I know.”

This time Thoma did frown. He opened his mouth and closed it, reordering his thoughts.

“It’s not really helpful to put it like that,” he said after a couple of seconds. “Think about it. Yoimiya told you something you did bothered her. This means, first of all, that she trusted you to listen and take her feelings into consideration. If she simply thought you weren’t a good friend, she would have simply stopped reaching out to you a long time ago.”

You hadn’t noticed when his fingers had intertwined with yours. Or yours with his. But you noticed the light squeeze he gave them, and how you squeezed back harder.

“She didn’t say that to hurt you. She did it to preserve your friendship,” Thoma continued. “If you only focus on how that made you feel instead of how she’s telling you she’s been feeling… well, that would miss the point a bit, no?”

The heat of embarrassment quickly rose to your cheeks. Thoma was right. Yoimiya had trusted you enough to voice her discomfort and, instead of apologizing, you were acting like a scolded puppy. That wasn’t fair to Yoimiya.

“I’m going to do better,” you announced, lifting your head. Thoma nodded, smile morphing into a grin.

“I know you will.”

He got up and walked to the counter. You flexed your fingers, trying to shake off the strange absence that enveloped them.

Then Thoma picked up the knife and, as if this were just any other day, asked, “So, how much more carrot do we need?”

The crate was not nearly as big as the ones you were used to carrying, but it still felt awkward in your hands. You shifted your weight from one foot to another, kept them busy so they would not start to simply walk away. Not that you would have had enough time – but a few moments after you knocked, the door was yanked open.

“Hitomi! Wow, what’s all that?”

You held the crate higher, giving Yoimiya a better view of the noctilucous jade ore. Yoimiya had spent days talking about how she had liked the effect they gave the fireworks during Xinyan’s concert, and Saimon Jirou was still too scared of you to deny you any last-minute requests. So it had seemed like an appropriate peace offering.

“Can we talk?” you croaked, feeling smaller as Yoimiya’s eyes widened.

“Sure! Do you want to come in?”

You nodded, and followed Yoimiya inside. You put the crate on a table, as instructed, and immediately Yoimiya launched into an inspection of the ore and an excited speech about every kind of firework she could make with it, if you had any special requests, if this was an order from the Yashiro Commission. Far from a relief, Yoimiya’s light-hearted attitude only made the knots in your stomach tighter. Still, you waited for Yoimiya to finish.

“Anyway, what did you want to talk about?”

“I want to apologize.”

Yoimiya’s eyes widened, the stretch of her lips suddenly becoming less than a smile.

“Oh. Is this about…” she let the question hang in the air. You breathed and pushed the words forward before you could think too much about it.

“Yes. You were right. I always interrupt you, and I haven’t paid as much attention as I should on the things you say. I haven’t given you enough credit. That’s not fair to you. I want to do better, and I want you to always tell me when I do something that upsets you.”

It was instant how the light returned to Yoimiya’s smile, how her shoulders relaxed.

“Thank you, Hitomi. And… I’m sorry too, for walking away like that.”

“No, it was the wake-up call I needed.”

Yoimiya laughed and you knew it was not directed at you. You laughed too.

Though the hardest part was still to come.

“I still need to talk to you about Tartaglia.”

You had expected Yoimiya’s face to turn sour, or at least for her to show some kind of reluctance. Instead, Yoimiya’s gaze softened.

“You still don’t trust him, huh? Look, it’s not like I’m going to give him my trade secrets, but we spent the entire day together yesterday and he didn’t do anything wrong. He even convinced the kids to take Itto on the next hunt for the Great Mujina Youkai. Why are you so against him?”

Hitomi couldn’t answer that, not properly. Hitomi had only seen Tartaglia once in her life, interacted with him the bare minimum and seen nothing of his dangerous side. Hitomi could not give concrete reasons for her reticence around the man. Hitomi could not help Yoimiya.

Not without a bit of you.

Not without risking everything you had worked towards.

It should have terrified you, really. But when you looked at Yoimiya, the weight of the words in your tongue was a comfortable one. Even if the words themselves were not.

“He is a Fatui Harbinger.”

You stopped for a moment, deciding which piece of information to offer next. That he had been the one behind the incident in Liyue Harbor a couple of years back, that he was known as the Tsaritsa’s most ruthless blade, that this was not the first time your paths had crossed.

You did not expect Yoimiya to say, “I know.”

“What?”

Yoimiya cringed, and you stopped, apologized, took a quick breath and repeated in a lower – but in no way calmer – voice, “What?”

“I know about that. Sakujirou – that friend of mine who sometimes hangs around the shop? He told me.”

All the tranquility You had felt evaporated in a second, leaving only scorched disbelief and indignation. You wanted to strangle Yoimiya. Affectionately. But still.

“Before you say anything else, I also know about what happened in Liyue, and how the Fatui were actually behind the Vision Hunt Decree… But.” She raised her hands, half defensively, half apologetically. “He’s been really nice to the kids. He protected them, gave them some survival tips for when they are playing outside of the city… I know his true identity is scary, and he might have done some bad things in the past. But right now he is doing something good, and I think I should treat him accordingly.”

“Yoi- Are you serious?” You all but choked, face growing red. “He can turn on you at any moment!”

“I really don’t think he will… Not like I am a threat to him in any way, right? But then, if you knew and you were worried about that… why didn’t you mention it before?”

“Because he threatened me. Well, kind of.” You took another breath – deeper, longer, less murderous. “I ran into him a while back. It was an accident and I ended up getting lost in an old Fatui facility. He pretty much said that if we saw each other again he wouldn’t spare me.”

“What?” Now it was Yoimiya’s turn to be overcome with righteous indignation. “Hitomi, that’s serious! We have to clear this up. I’ll tell him that if he does anything to you, we’ll be turning him to the Tenryou Commission right away. No. We should report this right now! Do Thoma and Ayaka know?”

“No!” You had to grab Yoimiya by both of her hands to prevent her from storming out right then. And Yoimiya still kept trying to get to the door. “Yoimiya, you can’t tell anyone. I don’t know how he would react and, like you said, so far he’s been behaving well, right? I don’t want to give him any more cause to be angry with me.”

Or cause for the Kamisatos to prod into your life.

To your relief, Yoimiya stopped struggling. Her shoulders relaxed and, as soon as she turned to you, her arms flew out and enveloped you tightly. Her voice was muffled against your neck.

“Archons, Hitomi, you must have been so scared.”

It was then that you realized that you had been. You had been so scared.

“If something like this happens again, you tell me, right? You tell me and we’ll figure it out. I can’t have my best friend in danger!”

Your breath hitched, unsure if you had heard correctly. Had Yoimiya even heard herself?

Before you could think of asking, Yoimiya pulled back and, still holding you by the shoulders, grinned. “If you have time now, how about we make some coffee and Dancing Delights, eh?”

It was close to sundown when you took the road back to the Kamisato Estate. Despite how much you had eaten, you hardly recalled having ever felt lighter. Yoimiya had stood by your side the entire day – chattering, and baking, and playing Genius Invokation TCG, and reminding You that she was there for you, for whatever you needed. And you listened. You did not believe it entirely, not when you knew better, but you listened. And that was enough to lift some of the weight off your chest.

In another time, you would have called the day a waste. You had not progressed in your job, nor had you uncovered any useful information. But that day, you were simply content. Something told you to just revel in that feeling for now.

You were just past Konda Village when you heard it, and knew it was too late. The muffled steps on the grass, the sudden humidity in the air. Pain shot across your abdomen, and for a moment you could not tell up from down, or whether your lungs had been punched or punctured. Then the air seemed trapped in your throat, and you belatedly realized you were on your back, and the weight of the world was lying on top of you.

As your vision slowly readjusted and the blurry colors took shape, you saw it was only the weight of a Fatui Harbinger. You certainly preferred it had been the world.

“Hello there, comrade. Fancy seeing you here,” Tartaglia greeted amicably, as if he didn’t have his hand wrapped around your neck. Even so, you tried to answer. The groan you managed only made it hurt more.

“Now, now, don’t be hasty. I’m sure you have a lot of things to tell me, but let me lead the conversation so we don’t get side-tracked. First things first. What are you doing in Inazuma?”

The pressure around your neck eased slightly, only enough to allow your voice through. You saw it for the mercy it was, and knew to use it wisely.

“I moved here. Months ago. Just working- ugh- housekeeper.”

“Is that so?” His bored expression told you he had not believed a word of it. Still, he continued. “And who exactly are you working for?”

“Kami- Kamisatos.”

“You’re really not making it easy for yourself, comrade… But I hope you’ll answer me honestly this time. What is your business with Naganohara Yoimiya?”

Hearing her name out of his mouth lit a spark within your chest.

“Stay away from her. Ugh!”

Tartaglia’s grip tightened, making your vision sway once again. The smirk that had been hanging from his lips was gone.

“I will ask one more time. What are you planning to do to Yoimiya?”

In the haziness of your pain-addled mind, you were not certain you had understood the question. It made no sense. The only thing that was clear was that Tartaglia was indeed interested in Yoimiya. And that, you could not let pass.

“I can get whatever- you want- don’t- hurt Yoimiya.”

The fingers relaxed more, and you were able to spot the frown forming in Tartaglia’s forehead.

“Hurt Yoimiya? Why would I ever do that?”

His words did not sound taunting, but genuinely confused. The way his eyes narrowed at you reinforced the sentiment. You would have rolled your eyes if you could. But given how your and your friend’s lives hung on a very thin line, you surmised that bargaining was the way to go.

“I don’t know what you’re after, but you don’t have to hurt Yoimiya to get it. I’ll help you if that’s what it takes, but leave her alone.”

“Leave her- wait.”

Then Tartaglia did the most infuriating thing one could do when having one’s enemy at their mercy. He laughed. Cackled, to be more precise. Threw his head back and everything. As if you had told not one, but two of the most hilarious jokes he had ever heard.

And somehow, his grip on your neck remained as steady as ever.

“You think I am trying to get something from Yoimiya? I don’t need anything from her! It’s you who must be plotting something against her, and I won’t just stand by when she’s helped me so much.”

“What?” You tried to sit up and, to your surprise, Tartaglia let you, quickly trading the hand around your neck for a Hydro blade. “Yoimiya is my friend, the only thing I’m plotting is how to get people like you away from her!”

“I find that hard to believe, comrade.”

“Listen here, I’ve known Yoimiya for months. If I wanted to do something to her, I would have done it already. And I don’t! I just want to keep her out of trouble!”

Maybe it was the exasperation in your tone, maybe it was the way you were raising your voice to a Fatui Harbinger with hardly any concern for your life, maybe it was something else entirely. But something made Tartaglia’s expression falter.

“If you’re not after Yoimiya, then what are you doing here?”

“I told you, I’m a housekeeper.”

“… right. Then what do you know about the Balladeer and the gnosis?”

“Wha- isn’t the Balladeer another Harbinger? How am I supposed to know about that? And what the fuck is a gnosis?”

Instead of replying, Tartaglia stood quiet, simply staring at you. It was an improvement from his sputtering words and accusations that made no sense, but not good enough. His blade was still at your throat.

“What is your business with the Fatui?”

“Absolutely nothing.” You wanted to throw your hands up and cry at this point. “All I want is to stay away from anything related to the Fatui. Believe me, running into you twice has been a terrible, random coincidence.”

“So you do remember me?”

That was an ironic question, evidently. Nothing in Teyvat could have made you forget the steely gaze from the Eleventh Harbinger, the way he had held you off the ground by the collar of your coat and told you you were lucky that he did not concern himself with the weak. But that, if he saw you again, he would not be as gentle. A threat as clear as all the ice in Snezhnaya.

And you had met again indeed. It was impossible to deny that. You were alone on the road, far away from any prying eyes. Not that having someone near would have made any difference – Tartaglia would probably just kill them as well. If the Eleventh Harbinger was known for something other than his love for combat, it was his devotion to the Tsaritsa. If there was any inconvenience to the Fatui’s plans, he would not hesitate in eliminating it. To have dribbled him once was already an incredible feat. Twice, it was simply unfeasible. Not when you had nothing to bargain with, not knowing what his goals were.

Your brain raced, going through all pieces of information you had, desperately trying to see a way out. There had to be something. There was always something.

You had gone through too much to have it end like that.

Tartaglia dissolved his blade and stood up.

You could only stare at him, unblinkingly, until he said, “If I found out you are lying about not getting in the way of the Fatui, or about not targeting Yoimiya, I will make sure you regret it.”

Tartaglia held out a hand to you. You did not take it, instead staggering to your feet on your own. It could be a trap. He could be sadistic like that. He could put an arrow to your back when you weren’t looking. But he made no movement towards his weapons, instead settling his hands into his pockets.

“Well, now that we got that out of the way, I’ll get going. Itto and I promised the kids to teach the kids to fish early tomorrow, and I have to be well-rested for that.”

You continued to stare, backing away slowly, but never turning your back to Tartaglia. If he took any offense in that, he did not show. It was him who turned his back first and, with a short wave of his hand, bid farewell. As if your back were not covered in dirt and your neck not sore from how he had pinned you to the ground.

Fear and anxiety did not leave you until you were inside the walls of the Kamisato Estate, and even then it took a while for your heart to stop trying to claw its way up your throat. Because of Tartaglia, of the risk that he was just playing with you, waiting for the most amusing moment to take your life. But also because of Yoimiya. Because of everything you had risked for her, and you did not know what to make of it.

Chapter Text

There were black and gray spots all over the ceiling, and that was where the bad smell was coming from. At least according to Papa. You weren’t sure you believed it, not when Oton’s fishing gear was hanging so close. Papa had also said that you could not leave it outside, or else it might be stolen, and the house was not big enough to put them somewhere else. That, you believed.

Still, you had to try to save your poor nostrils.

“Oton, maybe if we build a shed for your fishystuffs, Aunt Izumi will be less angry.”

Oton immediately stopped fiddling with his rod.

“Where did you get that from, [Y/N]-chan? Did she say something to you?”

You shook your head. “No, no! She’s just angry all the time. Like this.”

To illustrate, you pulled the corners of your lips down with your fingers and furrowed your brows while trying to make your eyes droopy. To your surprise, Oton chuckled.

“That’s not angry, [Y/N]-chan. That’s sad.”

“Oh.” So Aunt Izumi was always sad, then. That didn’t make sense. “But she never cries.”

“People don’t need to cry to be sad. Sometimes you’re sad, but you’re not crying, right?”

You crossed your arms and tapped a finger against the side of your head, just like you had seen a man at the market do the other day when he was deciding whether to buy one of Papa’s toys. Thinking Face, Papa had called it. So you were thinking. And you came to the conclusion that Oton was right. But that raised another question.

“Why is she sad?”

She did not have any reason to be. After all, Papa and Oton had crossed an entire ocean just to come live with Aunt Izumi, even when you had screamed that you did not want to go and threatened to run away to live with the Melusines. They had not even waited for Camille’s birthday party, and you sometimes still felt angry that you had to miss it. But Papa had said Aunt Izumi needed their help. So, now that they were there, she should be happy.

Besides, she was going to have a baby, and that was good. Papa always got giddy when someone mentioned it, rambling for hours and hours about all the fun his future nibling was going to bring. If that was true, then you couldn’t wait for the baby to arrive.

Which only made your question even more pressing. Oton understood it. He sent you a look like he was trying to decide which bait to use whenever he went to an unfamiliar lake. You rocked back and forth on your heels, literally biting your lips so as not to interrupt his thought process. You knew that hurrying him up would not get him there any faster.

“[Y/N]-chan, do you remember what your Papa and I always tell you?”

You rolled your eyes, forgetting for a moment that Oton had asked you not to do that. “Of course not, you tell me so many things! To eat my vegetables, not to be loud and scare the fish, not to eat berries off the ground…”

“What we always tell you about family,” Oton interrupted gently.

“Oh. That family sticks together no matter what?”

“Correct. You should remember that. Some people forget and don’t take good care of their family. Aunt Izumi is sad because the baby’s dad forgot about that.”

“The baby has a dad?” you exclaimed, spitting the last word as if you had found a pebble in your croissant. The thought was so unbelievable that, even when Oton nodded, you remained suspicious. “Then how come I’ve never seen him?”

Oton sighed, and you did not miss the way his shoulders slumped. As if something heavy had landed on them.

“One day he went away and decided he isn’t coming back. Now we are all the family Aunt Izumi has. That’s why we have to stand by her side, get it?”

You hummed slowly, pursing your lips. Those were serious news. You did not know dads could just forget and go away like that. Maybe it was because of a spell. Yes, cast by one of those youkai Papa had told you about, probably. Certainly.

“Oton?”

“Yes, [Y/N]-chan?”

“We gotta find a youkai repellent so they won’t make you and Papa forget too.”

Oton evidently had not grasped the gravity of the situation, because he just smiled. Before you could insist, he put his fishing rod aside and gathered you in his arms.

“I won’t forget, [Y/N]-chan. You’ll see, there will come a time when you will beg me to go away. But even then, I will stay with you.”

You frowned. “Why would I ask you to go away? Well. I guess if you start smelling like a wet dog. Then I would.”

You did not understand why Oton laughed – after all, the prospect was terrifying. Not even Papa would be able to stand such a smell. But that didn’t seem to worry him at all as he kissed both of your cheeks.

“I will do my best not to smell, then.”

You nodded. That was good enough.

The drop in temperature did not translate into a drop in the Yashiro Commission’s workload. The decrease in the number of public events drew the Tri-Commission’s entire focus to matters of economy and public security, which you only knew about because of the cursory glances you were able to get at the papers on Ayato’s desk when you brought him his meals. In no small amount of times, you had been able to spot the three characters for Watatsumi among the maelstrom of information.

The intelligence Sylvain had sent you corroborated this rise of tensions. With winter approaching and the embargo still in full force, the Shogunate had expected Sangonomiya to approach them ready to make concessions. Apparently, she had not. This was not, of course, a surprise to the Croque-mitaines. What was surprising was how you still hadn’t been able to track which voyages of the Crux Fleet were for the purposes of smuggling.

The fleet’s ships docked in Ritou, but always in different spots and stayed for as little time as possible. Even so, Anaïs had been able to slither inside a handful of times to check on their cargo. Only once had she found packages of food and medicine hidden in firework shells, confirming what you already knew. But once was not enough, lest the clients look like fools when they sent samurai for an inspection. No, you needed to figure out the periodicity of those transactions.

The answer could not be far. There had to be some sort of communications between them – letters, or perhaps some covert act that signaled when the next batch of goods was ready. And there had to be traces of that somewhere at the Kamisato Estate. Ayato spent less and less time at home, preferring to find lodgings close to the Tenshukaku when leaving from late night meetings, which were almost always followed by early morning ones. Ayaka was busier as well, engaged in a series of meetings around the island. Oftentimes, Thoma would accompany her. That left you with time to search around the Estate for clues.

Time that ought to be used wisely.

“Hitomi, this is delicious!” exclaimed Ayaka, as if the look of pure delight on her face hadn’t already betrayed her.

“The texture is so fluffy…” Thoma whispered, eyes wide as he took another spoonful of Île Flottante. “How did you get this consistency?”

“By almost straining my wrist beating egg whites, that’s how.”

“Now, we can’t have that,” Ayaka said, trying and failing to contain a giggle. “Next time, we should all take turns with those egg whites.”

It was not that you were procrastinating. It was a matter of consistency. Given the kind of rapport you had built with the Kamisatos, it would have been suspicious if you had not noticed that the wrinkles on Ayaka’s brow had become more pronounced and acted accordingly to assuage your lady’s concerns. Or if you had not started taking up more chores to lessen Thoma’s load. Or prepared Ayato’s favorite kind of tea whenever he ordered you to play shogi with him. Even if he still reached a checkmate in under twenty minutes in most matches and made your blood boil with remarks about how you were improving.

It was a matter of consistency. You would find an answer about the smuggling schedule in due time. That was what you would tell Sylvain if – when – he asked.

Sylvain did not need to know about how your stomach churned whenever you entered Ayaka’s study and let your eyes fall upon the hidden trapdoor. Or how, the only time you had attempted to break into Ayato’s study when no one else was at the Estate, you had stood paralyzed before the door for close to an hour before you had to hide from a passing Madarame.

Or about the nights you could not sleep thinking of the day you would go back to Fontaine.

You would manage. You always did. At that exact moment, you had other concerns in mind.

“You know, milady, we could invite Yoimiya next time. She helped me bake before, she’s getting really good at it.”

To your right, Thoma stopped his fork midair, lips curving upwards in a poorly hidden laugh that you pointedly ignored. Oblivious to that interaction, Ayaka nodded excitedly.

“Of course! I would be delighted to have her company.”

To his credit, Thoma did wait until you were all done eating and Ayaka had retired for the night before making his remark.

“Am I to understand that you are trying to set up Yoimiya and Ayaka?”

“That is a ludicrous insinuation,” you retorted, flicking droplets of water from the dishes you were washing in Thoma’s direction as punishment. “I’m only suggesting that two friends spend more time together.”

“So they can be… more than friends?”

“Your words, not mine.”

The lines of his face crinkled as he laughed, and that hooked a smile out of you that was not entirely against your will. Thoma dried and put away the last of the tableware, his laughter softly fading instead of dying. It left an echo in its wake, something that ricocheted off the walls and reverberated into your core. It was easy to just let it fill the space between your bones and leave your insides aflutter.

Even when his gaze bore into you, it did not pin you in place, but lifted you higher.

“Hitomi.”

You swallowed, throat suddenly feeling dry, and waited for him to continue.

“I’ve decided to read my mother’s letter. Would you stay with me while I do it?”

“Yes.”

The word tumbled out of your mouth before you could even register the request. The full weight of it settled upon you slowly, with each step towards the garden. The deafening realization that he had asked that of you, and you alone.

The wind’s song was gentle that night, barely caressing the windwheel asters. Snippets of another ballad stole into your mind, loss and permanence tangling in an inexplicable embrace.

Thoma’s fingers brushed the flower’s petals, but his eyes remained fixed on you as you took your place beside him. For a moment, neither of you said anything. Before you could wonder if he was starting to have second thoughts, Thoma pulled out the wrinkled envelope. It took him a while to open, with how his hands trembled, and through it all you sat there, unsure of what do to with your hands, if you should even breathe.

The letter was not that many pages long, and it was with a pang of sorrow that you surmised that perhaps Thoma’s mother had not had much strength to write. You kept that thought to yourself, watching as Thoma’s eyes hovered over the paper. At one point, he inhaled deeply, and his shoulders shook from the exertion. Without knowing what to do, you reached out a hand to his forearm. Just a light touch, something to remind him that you were there, not that it made any difference.

But his shaking did stop.

Minutes dragged on until Thoma lowered the letter. He did not look at you at first, eyes fixed on the ground. No, not the ground – the windwheel aster. And you continued to wait, to hold onto his forearm. You didn’t expect Thoma to tell you what the letter said and, indeed, he didn’t. But he volunteered the gist of it.

“She said she loved me.”

His voice was a whisper, as quiet as the flapping of a crystalfly’s wings. And just like one, it left specks of wonder as the words flew away. Wonder and relief.

“Of course she did,” you whispered back. Of course she did, because how could anyone not?

Thoma finally turned to face you, eyes glistening with incoming tears. A hand moved to his lap, and you saw he had taken out his omamori.

“She didn’t want me to come to Inazuma. Said it was too dangerous, and I was too young. I was afraid she had never forgiven me for leaving.”

It was as if the weight of his own admission propelled him forward, and Thoma crumbled against your chest. You stilled briefly at the sudden contact, but found yourself relaxing when you saw that wasn’t the wail of a broken heart, but the relieved sobs of someone who was finally letting go of the weight they had carried for so long. Thoma deserved that. He deserved better than having you at that moment, but you were the one there. So you cradled him in your arms and held tightly. Breathed the scent of cedar, closed your eyes and let yourself imagine, just for a moment, that this was alright. That you were Hitomi and you could be there for Thoma as much as you wanted to. As much as he would have you.

It was a nice fantasy.

The market in Ritou was quieter than usual. A chilly wind had blown earlier than expected, and you could not blame the people for wanting to stay inside if they could.

Despite the weather, you had been itching for a walk. Since that night in the garden, it had become harder to concentrate on the smallest tasks around the Estate without having your stomach start churning. Or fluttering, when you thought of how Thoma had looked at you afterwards. How he had told you about his parents, about life in Mondstadt, and how he came to be with the Kamisatos. All the while fiddling with his omamori.

Except when he had placed it in your hands so you could see it better.

You breathed deeply and blinked, exorcizing the image from your mind. That was exactly why you had felt the need to get your legs moving and volunteered to do some shopping for Ayaka in Ritou. Although being caught up in Saimon Jirou’s complaints had not been what you had had in mind.

“I understand that the Commission has better information than I do and certainly has its reasons… but maybe they could keep the import and export taxes at a more stable rate?”

The sugar in his tone was so forced it made you want to roll your eyes.

“Saimon, I don’t see the other merchants complaining.”

“Not complaining! Just wondering,” Jirou countered quickly. He pulled a piece of paper from the back of his stall and pushed it in your direction. “If you could just have a look at this. It is a timetable of all the import and export tax fluctuations in the past ten months, for all three Commissions. You see that they don’t always coincide?”

“I’m sure even you know that the market for weapons and the market for ceremonial and festival goods aren’t necessarily affected by the same events.”

“Of course, I just mean that-”

Jirou’s argument was cut off by a loud clatter. A series of gasps echoed among the passersby, eyes falling upon a woman lying face down on the ground, a straw basket tossed beside her and a variety of items scattered around, from kitsune statuettes to bead bracelets. Other people were closer to the woman, but you reacted faster. In three strides, you had reached the woman, kneeling beside her. You took one of the woman’s arms in your hands.

“Ma’am, are you alright? Let me help you up.”

The woman did not answer beyond an incoherent mumble. You were already pulling her up when the woman raised her head.

You had shot a gun, once, back when you and Sylvain had been younger and not needed to read in between the lines of everything the other said. Sometimes when you thought about it, you could still evoke the coolness of the metal against your hand, the resistance of the trigger, and the surprise when it gave away. The impact against your own arm, the loss of control. A flicker of your finger and you couldn’t do anything else. Too much destruction, too sudden. You had not cared for it.

It wasn’t dissimilar to now, when the sensations started to pierce you so rapidly you could barely distinguish one from the other. Like bullets. Your nose throbbed, your ears were overcome by screams that had not been heard in seventeen years. Your grip faltered, and you almost dropped the woman.

All this time, Aunt Izumi’s face had been a blur in your mind, hidden behind a fog of crimson. But you remembered some details. Like the mole next to her upper lip that you liked to emphasize in your drawings, and it always made Papa laugh. The permanent frown on her face. But what triggered the connection had been the eyes – so like the ones you had grown used to seeing every time you looked in the mirror. It was only then that you realized that Papa probably had the same eyes.

You froze. Stupidly, uselessly, in the same way you had had in that same town, so many years ago. You simply stared at the woman who might be – couldn’t be – your aunt.

The woman returned your stare, eyes so dull and unmoving that they seemed unable to truly see. They did not widen, did not express any sign of recognition or curiosity. Her face was wrinkled, more than it should have been for someone Izumi’s age. The woman straightened her back with difficulty, but made no move to displace your hand.

Her indifference was a balm. You had been mistaken. Of course you would not remember Izumi’s face, nor would Izumi remember yours.

Until you heard one of the nearby merchants shout, “Hey, someone call Hikari! Tell her Izumi got lost again.”

You retreated your hands as if burned. Izumi. Hikari. That was too much – a terrible coincidence. You had to leave. You had to, but your legs did not seem to agree.

Before you could regain control over your limbs, a teenager emerged from a corner of the street, panting heavily as she ran in your direction. She did not look all that much like the old woman, except for her eyes. The same eyes she shared with you.

“Mom, what are you doing?” Hikari cried, taking her mother’s arm without sparing you a single glance. Her voice sounded more tired than distressed, and that told you that that was not the first time that scene had taken place.

“Hey, Hikari!” a man called, pointing to the scattered items on the ground. “You’re going to have to pay for that.”

“Why don’t I pay to keep your mouth shut? Let’s go, mom.”

The voice that came out of Izumi was raspy and frail, nothing like the thunder you remembered. Or perhaps you had imagined it all along. But her words still came out clear.

“Won’t Hikaru come with us?”

Hikari sighed, shoulders sagging under the weight of repetition. “He’s not here, mom. Come on.”

Without waiting for confirmation, Hikari started walking off, the scowl on her face effectively opening way through the small crowd that had gathered. Once again, she did not glance at you. She did not see that Izumi had looked at you when asking about Papa.

It was hard to keep your head up when the faces and buildings seemed to converge into one big, blurry mass. Hard to keep standing up, not that you were sure what was up anymore. All you could see was a hurricane of colors coming together into a dark puddle – that sickening rusty brown, the stench of iron, and a door being slammed, and-

“Oh, don’t mind her,” Jirou’s voice sounded from behind you, oblivious to anything that was not in his direct interest. “Old Izumi got sick a few years back and she kind of lost touch with reality. Gives Hikari quite a lot of trouble, poor thing. But coming back to the taxes-”

“I’m sorry, I have to go now.” It was a wonder that your tongue did not twist in itself from how heavy it felt.

“But I- er, at least take the timetable with you. Then after you have a chance to check it out, we can discuss more.”

You shoved the piece of paper into your pocket without care. “Great. Thanks.” Taking the opportunity that your vision was beginning to refocus, you bent down to pick up the straw basket and marched away as quickly as your legs allowed.

Your heart thumped in your chest, deafening your ears to the world around. You had imagined encountering Izumi many times throughout your life. First, with fear of the cruel woman who had thrown you onto the streets as soon as Papa and Oton died. Then, with anticipation, heart craving for a revenge you felt owed. More recently, with apprehension and unwillingness to reopen old wounds.

But now that it had happened, you did not know how to feel. How to react. All that you knew was that you needed to know more.

Izumi no longer looked like the stern woman from your childhood, but a frail lady broken beyond her years. Whatever sickness had gotten to her, it had hit her hard. Even so, there was something of the old Izumi there. She had called you by Papa’s name. She had named her child after him.

You had a cousin. You had a cousin who was alive, who had to grow up with the woman who had abandoned you, and now had to care for her. You had a cousin who cursed and wasn’t afraid to speak out against other people. A cousin of sixteen, maybe seventeen, whom you knew nothing about.

Your breathing was labored by the time you reached the house. The carpet of blood red leaves was still there, as always, and Hikari stepped on it without care for its history. She held the door open, head still inside as she shouted to her mother.

“You can’t come outside this time, alright? You can’t. I’ll be back soon, just- don’t come out.”

Hikari closed the door and ran a hand across her face. An empty gesture that did nothing to assuage the frown that seemed to have been carved there throughout the years. By then, you had hidden in a corner, out of sight until you decided what to do. You watched as Hikari made her way back into the town, but did not follow. As soon as your cousin was out of sight, you walked up to the door and knocked.

At that point, you had no concrete plan, no long-term thoughts. The only thing on your mind was that you wanted to see the inside of the house where you had lived with Papa and Oton. So you would.

It took quite a few knocks – bangs – until you heard footsteps. They stopped at the door but still did not open it, leading you to once again pound your fist against the wood. Izumi finally opened it slowly, frightfully, but relaxed once she saw you.

Always one for subterfuges, you lifted the basket in your hands.

“I came to bring this back to you. May I come in?”

Izumi nodded, blinking one eye at a time and let her eyes roam over you. An eternity seemed to pass until she finally stepped aside, and you almost barreled through with no care for her.

The mold was gone. The wood had certainly been replaced over the years. Now there was a small table with two chairs on the side, instead of the worn-out cushions you remembered. A yumemiru rack had been added next to the opposite wall, where an incense burner had been laid in front of a few wooden plaques. The cupboards looked vaguely familiar. The painting of a sunset hung on the wall, beauty captured in simple strokes. It was not lavish by any means, but a visible improvement from the damp, smelly place of your memories.

“You haven’t visited in a while, Hikaru.”

Izumi’s voice did not cut through your thoughts as much as it crashed into them, leaving an incoherent jumble in place. The only thing that kept you from simply breaking down, the thing that tied your insides together, was rage.

You wanted Izumi to remember you. Wanted to see the terror in the woman’s eyes when she realized that you were alive and well, that you had not only survived, but thrived. You wanted to hear Izumi’s pleas for forgiveness and deny them, slam down her hopes and will to live.

“You always come when Hikari is away. She would like to meet you.”

“Hikaru’s dead.”

Izumi’s eyes widened a fraction. She clicked her tongue and shook her head.

“Of course, of course. You’re in that mood.”

You could only watch agape as Izumi dragged her feet to one of the chairs by the table and sat down with a creaking sound. Your nails dug into your palm.

“I’m not Hikaru. I’m his daughter.”

Izumi nodded slowly, staring at the floor. “You know I don’t like to talk about her.”

“You don’t like?”

The sound of the straw basket falling on the floor was too soft, muffled by heavy strides and the scraping of wood against wood as you pushed the chair back and gripped Izumi’s shoulders like the claws of a hawk. They felt harder than they should, and your fingers could not press much deeper before being met with the resistance of bone. Even so, you tried. To make Izumi bleed or yelp, you did not know, but you tried.

Izumi gave you the satisfaction of neither. Only a dull stare.

“I didn’t like sleeping in the cold,” you hissed, spitting all the venom you could along with those words. “I didn’t like being chased by dogs. Or stealing scraps of food. But I did. Because you said you couldn’t afford to feed me anymore.”

“We’ve had this conversation before-”

“No, we haven’t!”

Izumi whined.

“I’ve already said I’m sorry! I tried to look for her, you know I tried!”

“Bullshit.”

“I tried, but I didn’t know- I was there when the doushin recovered her body…”

For a second, your heart went still.

“What. Body.”

The quiver in Izumi’s lips made it more difficult to understand her. Even so, you hung to her every word.

“The body from the sea… she drowned… They said they couldn’t tell- but I know it was her…”

Your grip faltered, and Izumi hit the back of the chair with such force that it skidded backwards a little. The information was new, but not exactly surprising. It was not uncommon for accidents to happen around the harbor, when children were playing and adults were not paying enough attention. Obviously, the body hadn’t been yours; some other unfortunate kid, and Izumi’s guilty mind had filled the gap.

Had Izumi truly looked for you? How long after kicking you out had that been? If you had stayed closer to the house, if you hadn’t gone with Baptiste, would Izumi have taken your back? Would you have grown up there, along with your cousin? A poorer, simpler life. Would it have been a happy one?

Had yours been?

The sound of Izumi’s continuous babbling barely reached your ears. Whatever her words were, they held no meaning. She had done what she had. You had done what you had. Your lives were what they were. Shattered, barely recognizable from how they had started. And you could blame Izumi, could curse her for all of the Raiden Shogun’s eternity. That would not change the past.

You turned your back to Izumi, trying to regain control over your breathing. Your eyes fell upon the rack on the opposite side of the room, with the three wooden plaques. Three names were there. Your names. Belatedly, you realized it was a shrine for the dead. The wood around the incense burner was full of gray smudges, and a few ashes could still be seen lying about. But what was the use of honoring the dead after hurting the living?

There was something else. On the lower shelf, a leather-bound book in a dark blue cover. You would have ignored it if you had not seen the characters painted in white ink and the bountiful curves of the Fontainian alphabet. Your name.

“What’s this?” Your voice was hoarse as you picked up the book. Your head whipped towards Izumi, but the woman no longer seemed to acknowledge your presence.

“She was there, she was- she cried so much. I knew you would understand, Hikaru. I didn’t have a choice- you always understood me.”

Your fist flew past Izumi’s cheek, clawing at the back of her chair. Finally, the gleam of terror made itself known in her eyes. It wasn’t as satisfying as you thought it would be. So you only stared at the woman you had blamed and despised for most of your life, at the tears that began to gather at the corners of her eyes.

You did not register the creak of the door.

“What the fuck is going on?”

The lines in Hikari’s face had become even more pronounced, marring her features. Before you could think of what was happening, what kind of scene your cousin had walked into, Hikari had slammed a hand to your chest and pushed your back.

“You think this is funny? Frightening an old lady?”

The scowl in Hikari’s face was not so foreign. It looked like Izumi’s. It might look like yours. Did Hikari see the resemblance? Did she even know that you, and Papa, and Oton had existed? Or were you just names carved on wood to her?

“No, I-” When had your mouth gotten so dry? Or your words disappeared? “I just came to return her basket.”

“Whatever. Just get out of here. And don’t you dare come back, you hear me?”

Your head moved in assent, unable to do anything else.

For the second time in your life, you found the door of the house slamming at your face. For the second time, screams followed. For the first time, they were not your own.

It was with enormous effort that your feet dragged you away. It was hard to tell which one was heavier; your chest, or the book that you hid in your sleeves.

Awareness trickled back slowly, as if afraid of flooding your mind with too much information. Your hand was at your throat, and around you were the walls of the room that had been offered as yours for the past several months. Right. Home. No. The Kamisato Estate. The Kamisato Estate.

You tried to remember the walk back, but the blurs of greens and browns did not tell you much. You did not remember eating. The bowl of soup on your nightstand, cold and untouched, gave you some clues. Thoma had given you that. Yes, and told you to rest. You must have told him something. Or maybe not. Sometimes he had been able to guess from your silence.

The blue book was also on the floor, tossed open at a random page. Your heart hammered against your ribcage at the sight. It was a journal. You had tried to read it. That must have been when your breathing had become ragged and black spots clouded your vision. You had taken a step back. Alright. That was why you were touching your throat. You were feeling your heartbeat.

You could not tell whether it was at its regular pace, but at least it had a rhythm to it. You knew where you were. You remembered the encounter with Izumi and Hikari. That was enough. It had to be.

You sat on the floor and pulled the journal towards you, not trusting your shaky fingers to keep it from falling. An unmistakable briny scent wafted from its pages, accumulated from years of exposure to the Ritou breeze. Your fingers pushed it closed, and you read your name again in Fontainian script. Then, you turned to the first page.

Dear [Y/N]-chan,

If you are reading this, then it’s your 16^th birthday. Happy birthday!

(I sure do hope your Oton hasn’t spoiled the surprise by giving this to you before your 16^th birthday. That would be an awkward way to start. Anyway.)

As I am writing this, you are 34 days old. I should have started sooner, I know, but I couldn’t take my eyes off you for long enough to write anything. But then your Oton threatened to write it himself and we both know that, for all his wonderful qualities, he just doesn’t have the pizazz of a good storyteller. He’s glaring at me right now. I think he knows what I’m writing. Thankfully, he is feeding you, so you’re distracting him. Good job, champ.

Gotta say, you’re distracting me too. You’ve just started doing that little babbling and drooling and laughing. You’re such a happy, beautiful baby. The happiest, most beautiful thing in the entire world. I could spend the entire day just staring at you and your Oton. But then you would both miss my cakes, and that wouldn’t be fair.

In all seriousness now. I am in awe every time I look at you, [Y/N]-chan. And so is your Oton. You’re always laughing and looking around like every little thing you see is new and wonderful. Well. I guess it is to you. But I hope you never lose this gleam in your eyes.

There is so much ahead of you – a whole life! – that it’s also a bit scary. I wonder what you’ll be like when you read this. Will you like to fish? To dance, to read? Will you be shy? Short-tempered? What kind of food will you like?

I can’t wait to get to know all about you, [Y/N]-chan. But there is one thing I know already: you’re loved. And you will always be.

From your loving, handsome, and overly dramatic Papa.

An explosion echoed around the room as you slammed the book shut.

It was Papa’s. That was what Papa’s handwriting looked like. You never knew. You never knew he had written something to you either.

Your hands trembled, though you could not tell if from anxiety or true trepidation. Papa had meant for you to read this, a journal with random ramblings about your family life. Had that been the kind of man he was? It did not seem unimaginable. But then again, you had only known him for six years. Six short years. How much had he written during that time? How much before his death?

There was only one way to find out.

You had to consciously tell yourself to keep breathing as you perused the next pages. The entries were abundant, even if their periodicity was inconsistent. They all started with the same greeting.

Dear [Y/N]-chan,

Today you spoke your first word. Floccinaucinihilipilification. Just kidding! It was “ball”. Your Oton gave you a bouncy red one and you’ve been crazy about it for weeks. I sure hope this means we’ll get to play dauphin-dauphine a lot when you’re a bit older!

Dear [Y/N]-chan,

Today you said your first swear word. We were at the town market and Nuno started cursing because he dropped some crates. Before I knew it, you started mimicking him, going “fuck! Fuck! Fuck!”. Your Oton got mad at me because I couldn’t stop laughing. He said that would only encourage you. But I couldn’t help it! I had never seen anyone look so cute while swearing!

Anyway. Swearing is bad. Do not swear. Even though you’re now sixteen and we both know that’s the age when people swear the most. Promise me you won’t swear in front of Oton, or else he’ll say I’ve been a bad influence.

Dear [Y/N]-chan,

This date shall be remembered all across Petrichor: you caught your first fish today. It was a medaka and you named it Edith. Your Oton has been showing it to everyone in the neighborhood. And he says that I am the blabbermouth!

He is right, though. We should celebrate your achievements. Don’t worry, I will be sure to spread the news to everyone at the marketplace tomorrow as well.

PS: Dear [Y/N]-chan, we ate Edith for dinner. Sorry! But you didn’t know.

You felt your chest constricting more and more with each turned page. Until you reached the last one.

Dear [Y/N]-chan,

It’s been a while since I’ve written in here. My fault, this move has been a bit trickier than I expected.

We are now in Ritou, living with Aunt Izumi. She still hasn’t had the baby, but it should happen within the next two months. If you are reading this by any chance, hello little nibling! Now give this back to [Y/N], this is for her eyes only.

[Y/N]-chan, I know this move has been hard on you. Inazuma has not been as we had hoped nor as you deserved. I know, and I am sorry. I am sorry I got mad when you were asking your Oton to leave. You are not wrong. You are too young to be so far away from all you know.

I keep thinking if we made the right decision. Maybe I should have come by myself, waited until Izumi had the baby, and then rejoined you and Satoshi in Petrichor. That didn’t even cross my mind at the time. I didn’t think it would be like this. And I didn’t want to be apart from you for so long. Guess that was pretty selfish of me, huh?

And yet… would it be too hypocritical to say that I am incredibly proud of you? Just yesterday, you noticed that your Oton was down, and you went around the street with a fish trying to sell it. Someone gave you candy for it, and you gave the candy to him. Last week, you spent hours (no exaggeration on my part, I swear!) finding the pretties maple leaf to put on Izumi’s hair. Despite everything, every day you find a reason to smile, and you try to make us smile too. Maybe that’s not such a good thing. You’re too young to be worrying about us like that. But still, it really warms my heart to see how kind you are. I hope you never lose that.

That’s it, [Y/N]-chan. Enough of wallowing in self-pity. We’re going to turn this around. I am going to take you to see the Sacred Sakura, play temari, and get fireworks from that cool shop in Inazuma City. You’ll see. Next time I write here, it will be all about our adventures across the country. Just hang in there a little bit more, champ.

That had been less than a week before the incident.

You had not seen the Sacred Sakura together. You had refused to play temari. And the only times you had been to Inazuma City had been in those fruitless attempts to sell Papa’s carvings.

You read it again from the top, trying to imagine Papa’s face as he wrote. Alone in a room, your previous months in Inazuma weighing on him like chains, ones he would hide away as soon as he closed the notebook. You had never seen him without a grin on his face. He had mentioned yelling at you – you did not remember that. The only time you remembered seeing him not smile was the day he died.

You did not remember your childish attempts to sell fish, or trying to get Izumi to warm up to you. Papa said you always smiled – you did not remember that.

The tips of your fingers brushed against the page, tracing the curves of Papa’s handwriting so gently as though you feared your touch might erase them. Kind. To think someone would have ever used that word to describe you. Only Papa.

I hope you never lose that.

You closed the journal, gripping the cover as tightly as your fingers would allow you.

That. The wonderful childish certainty that one should do good things, and good things would happen. Of course you had lost it. You wished you could say it had been hard, that you had been forced to commit crimes to survive and always regretted your position. That you had tried to break away.

You hadn’t. You had lied, cheated, killed, brought ruin to innumerous persons, and done so earnestly, waiting for Baptiste to shower you with praises for your good work. From time to time, you had enjoyed it, as though bringing shade to those who had found a spot in the sun would somehow rebalance Foçalors’ scales. It had been so easy.

Thank the Archons that Papa and Oton had died before they had gotten to see that side of you.

Your body shook, fighting to keep the tears prickling at the corner of your eyes from falling. The room suddenly felt stifling, wrapping around your throat and causing you to choke. Your breathing came out in wheezes.

Had Papa felt anything similar when he drowned in his own blood?

In a flash, you were up on your feet, holding a hand to the wall to steady yourself. You did not know how you moved. Your legs were a wobbly mass below you, utterly disconnected from the rest of your body. Yet, they somehow carried you out of your room. Across the hallway, into the archway that led into the garden.

Just as you were starting to think that there you would be able to relearn how to breathe, you saw that the porch was already occupied. You halted abruptly, suddenly regaining control over your feet.

You had already made your presence known, however, and Thoma turned around, words of greeting quickly thrown into the air. They stopped as soon as his eyes fell upon you, the broad smile that tugged on his lips vanishing entirely.

“Hitomi? What happened?”

Your muscles stiffened, unable to respond to the commands of “run” that your brain screamed. You did not know how you managed to answer, “Nothing.”

A feeble lie, and Thoma knew it. He jumped to his feet and strode towards you, stopping only when you crossed your arms over your chest. You kept your eyes glued onto the floor, as if that could defend you against the housekeeper’s scrutinizing gaze.

“Hitomi.”

He spoke slowly and, as cautiously as if approaching a wounded animal, reached out with his hand. You observed the movement from the corner of your eye but did not move. Finally, the hand settled on your shoulder, and that snapped you out of your trance. You shrugged it off with a spasm. Your mouth moved quickly, words falling out in a barely coherent order.

“Nothing really happened, I’m not- I’m just not feeling well right now. There’s nothing you can do about it.”

Thoma remained silent, patiently waiting to see if you would volunteer anything else. You still refused to look at him, but saw that his legs were shaking – no. You were the one trembling.

“Hitomi.”

This time his fingers brushed against your own, featherlight, prepared to retreat in case you pushed them away. You didn’t – you didn’t have the strength to.

“Come sit with me for a bit.”

Again, your first instinct was to deny it, shake your head, and step away. But Thoma kept his hand in place.

“Please.”

You glanced up, meeting his eyes for the first time. Your heart tugged uncomfortably at the sight. You hated that purse of his lips, the agitated light that flickered in his eyes. You hated that you were the cause for that. With a light nod, you let Thoma lead you down to the porch.

Along the way, he had entangled his fingers with yours in a hold that you did not know how to break. Once you were sitting, Thoma took a deep breath. Instead of saying something, he only held it for a few seconds and breathed out. It took three repetitions for you to realize that he was guiding you. You mimicked his rhythm, focusing on his soft inhales and exhales above the incessant thumping of your heart. Soon enough, your lungs remembered how they were supposed to work, and your breathing steadied.

You glanced at Thoma, only to find his eyes were already on you. There was a hint of relief in them as he offered you a weak stretch of his lips.

“How are you feeling now?”

Miserable. Broken. But also-

“Better.”

Thoma nodded. “You don’t have to tell me anything that you don’t want to. But talking to a friend often helps. Speaking from experience.” He let out a light chuckle, trying to diffuse your tension. Unbeknownst to him, his words only made your heart rate jump again.

Because Thoma was friends with Hitomi. It was all he knew. Every conversation you had had, every touch, every moment, he was with Hitomi. But it was not Hitomi who sat beside him now. You were just you. You were hurting. And Thoma did not even know you.

 “I’m sorry.” The words jumped out of your mouth before you had fully processed them. “This was a mistake.”

You wanted to get up and leave, but your legs would not obey. A part of your hoped Thoma would notice and leave himself.

But of course he didn’t.

“Hitomi.”

Every time he said that name, your chest tightened.

“Please, talk to me.”

“You don’t even know me!”

It was the gun again. Too fast, too powerful. Too out of your control.

You shut your eyes tightly, as if that could shield you from the repercussions of you actions. At least it would shield you from seeing the disappointment in Thoma’s face.

Something brushed against your cheek. Something warm. You had to steel yourself not to lean into it.

“Look at me. Please.”

You squeezed your eyelids even more forcefully, steadfast in your stubbornness. But when you felt the warmth spreading, calloused fingers rubbing against your cheek as if trying to siphon your worries away, you relented. You opened your eyes.

Thoma was smiling.

“I know you get cranky without coffee in the morning. I know you love to tend to the flowers, but you hate dusting. You hum Xinyan’s songs when you’re cooking. You snort when you laugh too hard.”

There was a fondness in those words, in his tone. It wrapped around you, tight enough to hold you together, loose enough to allow you to breathe.

“I know that you are hard on yourself. You set a goal and you will do almost anything to achieve it,” Thoma continued, his pace quickening. “You are always planning the things you will say and do and you try to predict all the possible consequences. You try not to show what you really feel all the time, especially if you think other people won’t like it. You are fiercely loyal. And I know that, even though you don’t believe it, you are one of the kindest people I have ever met.”

There was that word again. Kind. Did Thoma even know what that meant? Did Papa? If they did, why did they keep using it?

“You have done things you are not proud of. Life has not treated you kindly. You still grieve for your fathers and that you still think you should be grateful to your foster father despite what he has put you through. I know all of that, and I know that there is so much more about you that I don’t know, but I want to.”

It was starting again. The swell in your chest, the difficulty in breathing. And something building up at the back of your head and your throat that you couldn’t stop.

“I care about you. I’m not leaving.”

You could not see his smile anymore. Not through the cascade of tears that burst from your eyes. But you could feel him as he pulled you closer and wrapped his hands around your back. You could smell the cedar when your forehead settled against a spot of his collarbone that fit you perfectly. And you could feel the fingers running up and down the back of your neck.

Sometimes we need to break before we can be put back together. You had said that, and it had been a lie. you had only been trying to think of something to comfort Thoma. You were breaking, but you could never be put back together.

Baptiste had tried that. Picked the pieces apart, twisted the limbs, reattached some and molded new ones. Put them back into something that held but a resemblance to the original. It was better, he had told you. Stronger. For many years, you had believed him.

He had been the last person to see you crumble like that. He had also taken you in his arms. He had caressed your back and told you that it was going to be okay, but you needed to be strong. That the road from there on wasn’t going to be any easier, and you needed to be ready. When your cries had not subsided, he said he would help you. That your fathers would have understood.

Thoma did not say any of that. He just held you. Until his shirt was soaked with your tears and your sobs were little more than croaks. But his silence was anything but quiet. In the things he did not say – for you to be strong, for you to put yourself together –, there was a loud promise. That you could cry. That you could be vulnerable. That he would stay.

Fireflies flocked around the garden. Radiant greenish specks floating around small lampgrasses and windwheel asters. You had never seen so many; they were usually shy around humans. You tensed at the thought, and Thoma must have felt it, because his thumb rubbed a circle around the back of your neck. You could feel his breath at the crown of your head, but still he said nothing.

The hand around your heart unclenched a little. Just enough for words to flow.

“I found a journal from my Papa.”

Thoma’s surprise was conveyed in the way his thumb fell out of rhythm for a moment. There were certainly many questions in his mind. But he focused on one.

“What did you think about it?”

Some of the fireflies moved further away, probably alerted by the noise. They now illuminated the valberries, which still had some small lingering fruit.

“I am… a very different person from who I was when he wrote it.”

The pressure of his finger was strangely soothing, anchoring you back from the abyss you had dived into moments prior. “You were too young when they passed.”

“It’s not just that.” You huffed. “I’ve done too many things. Things you don’t know about. I’m not a good person.”

There was silence again – uncomfortable now, heavy with uncertainty. Then Thoma pulled back, dislodging your head from its nest. When you tried to keep your head low, he placed a finger on your chin. There was no pressure in it, only an invitation. You accepted.

There were fireflies in his eyes.

“Do you remember when you were telling me about the windwheel asters and why you liked them?” You nodded, the exhaustion of your body preventing any sign of embarrassment from showing. “I looked through that book before giving it to you. I wanted to find a flower that reminded me of you. And I did. Lotus pluvieux.”

He pronounced the words carefully, his tongue folding perfectly behind his lower teeth to make the “u” sound in Fontainian. He had practiced beforehand – how long before? He had found you a Fotainian flower. Why?

As if sensing your questions, Thoma smiled.

“Lotuses are usually connected with the idea of resilience. They have to pierce the murky waters to bloom, grow where other flowers can’t. They may have started in a harsh place, but they manage to break away.”

Each word flowed so easily. As if he were simply stating a fact, and the admiration that shone in his voice was nothing but the natural course of things. It brought heat to your face.

“I haven’t. I haven’t managed. ”

“Haven’t you?” Thoma shifted in place, taking your hands in his. “Hitomi, you’ve done good things too. More than the ones I know about, for sure. I know letting go of the past is difficult, but you’ve been doing it little by little.”

“Not really.” A sad, hoarse laugh escaped from your throat. Thoma would not laugh if he knew, wouldn’t be telling you kind words or holding you hands. He should not be doing that now.

Would you have met Thoma if you had stayed in Inazuma? Would you have become friends out of your own merit? Or would you have been just another face he passed by on the street? Would you have even lived long enough to meet him?

Maybe you wouldn’t have. But you had. You had, and you were there, and you both were there now.

And you wanted to be someone who could hold Thoma’s hands without tainting them. Someone who deserved the word kind.

“I don’t know what I’m doing anymore.”

He did not ask about what. He just squeezed your hands and said, “You don’t have to know all the time. And you don’t have to do it alone. Even pluie lotuses can use help sometimes.” When you did not laugh at his attempt at humor, he gave them another squeeze. Your gazes locked, and you saw familiar flames. “I’m not leaving you, Hitomi. No matter what.”

You were back in his arms, warmth and sorrow interweaving around you in a way that reminded you of the rain at the Court of Fontaine. But you were far, far away from Fontaine, and your body had no more tears to shed. So you only laid your head back on his shoulder, on that spot that seemed to have been carved for you.

The words were a whisper, more to yourself than anyone else, “I want to believe you so badly.”

You felt Thoma’s fingers brush against the hair on the crown of your head. His voice resonated, quiet and strong at the same time. “I really hope you do.”

I’m doing what I can, I don’t see you doing any better.

You resisted the urge to add a “connard” at the end of the note. Less for Sylvain’s sake than for your own peace of mind. You did not need even more animosity from him, not at this point.

It had been hard to focus on anything those past few days. Even mechanical tasks such as pulling out weeds seemed to plunge your mind back into Papa’s journal and images that you could not tell whether memory or imagination. It probably did not help that you kept rereading the journal each night. You could not stop your hands from seeking the book. Most of the words had already taken root in your mind, but you still wanted the physical proof, the sight of Papa’s calligraphy. If only you had something written from Oton as well.

Running a hand through your hair, you felt it drier than usual. You shrugged off the annoyance about the implications of that and picked up the steaming cup on your nightstand. Hōjicha tea. It was the only thing that helped you sleep. How ironic. And how ironic that Thoma was the one preparing it.

The leaves were arranged in an odd way which, according to the housekeeper, was ‘clearly the moon’. A huff escaped your lips and, in the isolation of your room, you did not try to contain the fond smile that formed.

You closed your eyes, letting the steam tickle your nose and eyelids. The heat spread across your face and your hands. It wasn’t the same, but it was enough.

You drank the rest of the tea in one gulp and, pointedly refusing to look at the note addressed to Sylvain, got up to set aside your clothes for the next day. As you folded them, a piece of paper fell out. It took you a few moments to recognize the timetable that Saimon Jirou had all but shoved into your hands that day. You sighed, skimming through the digits with little attention.

If the dates and numbers he had noted were right, Jirou had a point. The import and export taxes regulated by the Yashiro Commission had fluctuated much more often than the taxes set by the two other Commissions, even if less drastically so. You did not know enough about the events that might have justified those fluctuations, but you begrudgingly understood Jirou’s concern about stability of prices. Since the Biwa Music Festival, three decreases of the export tax had taken place, followed by slight increases soon after. As you looked further back, you saw a pattern. From fourteen to sixteen days after each increase, there would be a decrease. Never more, never less than that. Your attention turned back to the date of the first increase after the end of the Biwa Music Festival. There was something about that date.

In a matter of minutes, papers littered the bedroom floor. You kneeled on all fours, keeping Jirou’s timetable at the center and moving the other papers as you checked the dates on each one. On each of the invoices from the Crux Fleet.

The dates did not coincide, of course not. But every ten days precisely after each decrease in the export tax from the Yashiro Commission, there would be an invoice. And every four to six days after an invoice, there would be an increase. Information about the fluctuations of the export taxes were made available widely, both in Inazuma and abroad. Sailors would be able to pick up information at any port in Teyvat. And ten days was more than enough time to get to Ritou from Liyue Harbor or Port Ormos. Possibly other ports as well.

Then you noticed the last decrease in the export tax that Jirou had written. It had been nine days ago.

“Thoma, are you going to Ritou? Mind if I join you?”

The question caught him by surprise. Just the previous night, you had talked about moving some of the camellias to another part of the garden. So you added, “I got wind that my favorite brand of coffee from Fontaine arrived there, and if I wait too long to get it there might not be any left.”

That was a convincing enough reason, if Thoma’s laughter was any indication.

“Of course! My errands might take a while, so don’t feel pressured to accompany me all the way.”

“Not at all. I want to.”

And maybe it was the sun that had decided to grace the island that day, but you could swear that you saw Thoma’s ears redden. You focused on that. On that and on the crinkles around his cheeks as he told you of the sweaters and blankets he was planning to finish knitting before winter. On how easy it was to fall into step with him.

But your mind was too quick and too accustomed to running a million thoughts simultaneously. It kept throwing flashes of papers scattered across the floor and Jirou’s handwriting to the back of your eyelids. At each blink, shards of glass dug deeper into the walls of your stomach. And you had put them there.

The sails caught your eye first – red and gold, the colors on the cloth impossibly vibrant for a vessel that spent so much time at sea. Then, the dragon that sat at the bow, as much a threat to anything and anyone that got in its way as a protector to those who trusted its guidance. Truly, the poorly printed snapshots in the Steambird did not do the Alcor justice. Even as your stomach seemed to twist in itself, it was impossible not to feel wonder looking at the ship.

The Crux Fleet was truly there, in their main ship. And if they were using the Alcor, then the one helming it should be-

“Ah, Captain Beidou! Nice to run into you this time.”

You were certain that was when your heart would finally give in, though not for the reasons it should. You had spent years following this woman’s adventures from afar, looking for any news of her achievements, even fantasizing about her. But seeing Beidou in person, the sparkle of her eye under the sunlight, the gentle waves of her hair that mimicked the ocean itself, the unabashed way her lips split into a show of teeth when she caught sight of Thoma… It was impossible to look away, to dare miss a second of her descent from the deck of her ship until she was but a meter from you.

“We’re running a tight schedule this time, so I thought it best to supervise the delivery myself. Wouldn’t want to give ya any more gray hairs than I have to.”

Beidou’s voice settled upon you like an anchor. It was almost as deep as you had imagined, though carrying a liveliness that made itself heard in every syllable.

“If everything that’s happened hasn’t given me some already, I don’t think you ever could,” Thoma laughed, incredibly at ease before the woman who was the Uncrowned Lord of the Ocean. “Let me introduce you two. Hitomi, this is Captain Beidou. She frequently does business around Inazuma, including with the Yashiro Commission. Captain, this is Hitomi. She works with me as a retainer for the Kamisato Clan.”

Beidou nodded and directed that proud, bright grin to you. “’Sup, kid? Pleased to meet you.”

You knew for a fact that your mind would keep replaying that greeting, that voice, until much later. Especially when you were in bed.

“Pleasure, Captain,” you croaked, surprised that you had managed to get even two words in without your knees buckling. Thankfully, Beidou seemed unaware of her effect on you and turned back to Thoma.

“Gotta talk to you about the transportation within the island. We ran into some difficulties last time.”

“Of course. Let’s talk over there, Captain. Hitomi, maybe you should go ahead and grab your coffee beans. We can meet at the square and grab something to eat before we head back?”

You blinked away the mist of awe. Beidou was there. It could not be a coincidence, no matter how much you hoped to be wrong.

So it was that you pretended to walk away as Thoma and Beidou moved to a quieter area of the pier. Waited until they could no longer be seen and the crew members had gotten distracted catching up with the workers and other sailors at the harbor. Ignored the scream at the back of your head that told you to walk away, that you didn’t need to know. Because the problem, the hopelessness of it all, was you knew already. Even when you had tried not to. You did always insist that you were good at your job.

Firework shells, temari, lanterns, flags, and daruma. All of them carefully filled with grains, herbs, and medicine.

You closed the lid of the crate again and had half the mind to ensure that no one had seen you. Your mouth held an acrid taste that not even coffee would be able to wash away.

There was a scream in your silence, and you were sure Ayato heard it. In the way your eyes were settled upon him but your gaze was not, fixated on everything around the Commissioner but never on his person. In the way your back was straight against the chair as if pulled by a thread that would snap at any moment.

I know your secret.

He heard it; how could he not?

Thoma had offered to prepare you some soup while you rested in bed, taking your sudden change in demeanor for another bout of anxiety. But Ayato had called you, and it had been an order. It was urgent.

The study felt strangely overcrowded with four persons inside, even though it had room for many more. Ayaka fiddled with her fan while shooting expectant glances at Ayato. Such displays of anxiety were not common for her, even when Ayaka was at the Estate.

Perhaps it was different within the four walls of her brother’s study. Or with only the four of you there.

I will tell it.

Ayato did not wait too long to start.

“The Tri-Commission has achieved the unanimity required to resume peace negotiations with Sangonomiya.”

Thoma took a sharp breath, unable to fully hide his surprise. You observed Ayaka, how the Shirasagi Himegimi continued to stare at her brother, waiting for him to continue.

“A new meeting has been scheduled. Kujou Sara will go as the appointed representative of the Shogunate.” And with the same calm tone, he said, “Ayaka will act as the mediator.”

“What?”

The question barreled out of your mouth before you could think. Ayato did not seem surprised, however.

“Initially, we had considered the Traveler, who has a good standing with both the Shogunate and Sangonomiya. However, Lumine has been otherwise engaged in Sumeru. Although Ayaka is, formally, a member of the Shogunate, the Yashiro Commission and Ayaka in particular have always maintained a positive relationship with Sangonomiya. After some negotiation, they accepted that she take the role.”

As Ayato talked, Ayaka squared her shoulders and put her fan away, as though wanting to dispel any doubts as to whether she was up to the task. Going to Watatsumi to meet with the rebel government she had been covertly aiding while trying to find a compromise between them and the official government she was a part of. The mediation was not the difficult part. Not being caught was.

I will be your downfall.

“The negotiations will take place in Watatsumi Island. While we do not believe Sangonomiya would have cause to break the armistice, we cannot exclude the possibility that individuals who still resent the Shogunate might try something against their representatives. At the same time, given the sensitivity of the situation and the need to show good faith, sending many armed guards would be inadvisable. Therefore, the both of you shall accompany Ayaka along with Hirano and Hirotatsu.”

Two samurai and two retainers. Four people with high proficiency in weaponry, only two of them overtly so. One Vision holder. Two, if Ayaka counted.

“You leave for Watatsumi in ten days.”

I am a mistake.

It seemed that Ayato had not heard it after all. So your only remedy was to bow and, along with Thoma, reply, “Yes, milord.”

Chapter Text

“Mon chouchou, what are you doing?”

You squeezed your eyes shut even harder.

“I don’t want to fall in love now.”

“What?”

The confusion in Oton’s voice almost made you take a peek, but you did not want to risk it.

“Papa told me about love at first sight, and I don’t want to risk falling in love with anyone at the market.”

A sigh reached your ears, and Oton mumbled Papa’s name as if it were an insult. A finger poked your cheek.

“[Y/N]-chan. Look at me.”

Begrudgingly, you obeyed, careful to keep your eyes on Oton and him only. You already loved him, so there was no risk there.

“You know how Papa likes to be dramatic. When he talks about love at first sight, he doesn’t really mean it like that. You can’t love someone just by looking at them.”

“But he said it happened to you!”

“That’s- that’s really an oversimplification.” That was another way of saying that Papa had lied. Oton always found a way to said that without really saying it. “You know, I didn’t like Papa at all when we first met. I thought he was too loud and didn’t take anything seriously. It was only after I really got to know him that we fell in love.”

Oton picked up a strand of your hair and tickled your ear with it in that way he knew you liked.

“So keep your eyes open, [Y/N]-chan, and let people in. And every day you’ll find something to fall in love with.”

The Shogun probably had high hopes for that meeting. The entire way to Watatsumi, the weather had been fair, and even the usual thunder around Yashiori Island had been tamer than usual as you passed by, according to the sailors. Ayaka also seemed to consider those as good omens and finally accepted your pleas for her to stop studying and appreciate the view from the deck. At that point, Ayaka could recite by heart the notes she and Ayato had prepared – the demands from both Sangonomiya and the Shogunate, what the points of tension were, potential avenues for compromise and concessions, how to steer every step of the negotiation and assess the risks. All potential developments mapped out and thought through. The burden was not a light one, and Ayaka did not pretend it to be so. But she did carry it with steady breathing and measured steps. A dance she was still learning the steps to, but that she was intent on mastering. It made it difficult not to want her to succeed.

And there was also the chance that, if the negotiations bore fruit, your own mission might become moot. If the Shogunate got enough of its demands, maybe the clients would be satisfied and carry on. You would be on the first ship back to Fontaine. It would be terrible for the Croque-mitaine’s reputation. Baptiste would be furious.

Yet, his disappointment felt like the lesser of two evils.

You felt a sigh reverberate through your bones, lifting your shoulders before dropping them unceremoniously against the taffrail. From there, you could see the ship carrying Kujou Sara and the rest of the Shogunate representatives farther ahead, cutting across the waves with ease. The sea there was darker than it was in Fontaine – which, granted, was not actually the sea, but so much like it that you tended to forget. Even if you had never been a proficient diver, you missed the familiarity of those waters.

You had delivered your message to Sylvain as it was, without saying a word about what you had seen on the Alcor. You had not told him about the trip to Watatsumi either. If he asked – when he asked, because Sylvain was bound to find out about one of those things, if not both – you would say that you had not found anything out of the ordinary, be it in Ritou or in Watatsumi.

And if – when – he pressed you, if – when – he found out, if ­– when – he reported it to Baptiste… You would have to choose.

“Hitomi, you might be standing a bit too close to the edge.”

You whipped your head backwards, surprised at Thoma’s remark. You rolled your eyes almost by instinct.

“It would take a storm to toss me over, and even if one appears out of nowhere, I have plenty of time to step back.”

Thoma’s eyes continued to dart between you and the taffrail. “Sorry, I…” he swallowed, waited, and tried again. “I worry.”

It dawned upon you that that was probably the longest Thoma had travelled on a ship since coming to Inazuma. Since surviving a shipwreck.

You stepped back from the taffrail, and relief immediately cascaded down Thoma’s eyes. You tugged at his hand.

“Come on, let’s get our Genius Invokation decks out. Milady could use a distraction.”

It had been a good call, for Ayaka and Thoma both. It was not like there was much else to do on the ship aside from fruitlessly worrying about the impending meeting. Hirano and Hirotatsu eventually joined the fray, and you even let them win a couple of matches.

You arrived at Watatsumi by noon of the following day. Even before the ship had docked, you could see Kujou Sara on the deck, shoulders squared and a piercing stare ahead. From all you had researched, the Tenryou General painted a simple picture. Powerful, blindly devoted to the Shogun, single-minded, and responsible for many of the Resistance’s losses during the civil war. Still, her sharpness seemed to end at the battlefield, ill-suited for interpersonal relations. You wondered why she had been the one selected to represent the Shogunate – but, then again, with the power crisis within the Tenryou and Kanjou Commissions and the impossibility of having the Yashiro Commission helm the entire thing alone, perhaps she was the only one still respected enough for that kind of job. You repressed a sigh at the thought.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, Sangonomiya Kokomi herself waited at the port, accompanied by a handful of soldiers in red and pink uniforms. Tension flared from their every limb, ready to brandish their weapons at the smallest sign. In contrast, their leader sported a smile. Not relaxed by any means, evidently practiced, but gentle nonetheless. It was clear that she was concerned about the success of the negotiations as well.

“Madam Kujou, Miss Kamisato, it is an honor to welcome you to Watatsumi. I hope that you have both had a tranquil voyage.”

“The honor is ours, Lady Sangonomiya,” Ayaka replied, easily falling into the pleasant lilt she of the Shirasagi Himegimi.

A few more pleasantries were exchanged and, despite Naoko’s own anxiousness for getting things moving, she could see that Ayaka’s work had already started. With a few sentences, she had been able to relieve some of the stiffness from Kujou Sara’s shoulders and even make Sangonomiya’s smile appear more natural.

“You must be weary from the journey,” Sangonomiya eventually said. “Your accommodations have been prepared and I would be happy to show you around the island before we formally start the discussions tomorrow.”

The general did not seem entirely happy with the delay but, before Kujou Sara could say anything, Ayaka took the reins. “That is most kind, Lady Sangonomiya. It is indeed important to understand the way of the land before the negotiations can advance.”

Not even Kujou Sara could refute that logic.

Perhaps you should have expected it, but it still baffled you how different Watatsumi was from Narukami. Instead of the overwhelming purple tint seen at the capital, the environment there was covered in soft blues and pinks. Particles of Hydro swam slowly across the air, a phenomenon about which, when inquired, the Watatsumi soldiers showed no willingness to explain beyond a shrug. The looks they exchanged before that told you they didn’t know either, but had always accepted as simply part of life. That did not tone down the fascination with which your party regarded it.

A scenery like that seemed more fitting for Fontaine than Inazuma. It somewhat reminded you of the Weeping Willow by the Erinnyes. You missed it almost as much as you dreaded the implications of seeing it again.

There was a village in the distance, but Sangonomiya took you around it, on the upper route to the Shrine. An impressive three-story building surrounded by what seemed to be giant pink conch shells, opening up around the Shrine like the petals of a flower. A group of Shrine Maidens awaited at the entrance, their uniform not unlike the one of their counterparts in Narukami, but with blue accents instead of red.

The Shrine Maidens directed you to your rooms while Sangonomiya promised a hearty lunch within the hour. The accommodations were simpler than what one would expect in Narukami, but still had been evidently prepared with care, with soft sheets and a small basket of fruits. You wondered how much trouble Sangonomiya had to have gone through to prepare even that small token, with winter fast approaching and resources scarce.

There was not much time to dwell on it, though, as Ayaka called you and Thoma to her room. Larger than yours, as expected, with a gorgeous view to the series of waterfalls around the Sangonomiya Shrine. Ayaka waited for you and Thoma to get settled on a couch opposite to her, though her fingers were already tapping against her fan.

“What were your first impressions?”

“It was a thoughtful reception, milady, considering their resources,” you said slowly. “It seems Lady Sangonomiya is also eager for a more lasting peace settlement. However, Madam Kujou appeared to be impatient.”

“She may be concerned that Lady Sangonomiya may not be ready to make concessions this time,” Thoma supplied, more informed about the details of past negotiations than you were.

Ayaka nodded. “I believe you both are correct. In this vein, it is important to better understand what the people of Watatsumi expect from the peace settlement. Lady Sangonomiya will not be making concessions that she cannot justify to her people. Thoma, Hitomi, we passed by a village on the way here, Bourou Village. Please go there during the lunch with Lady Sangonomiya and Madam Kujou and try to gather information on that.”

“Both of us?” Thoma asked, and you would have taken offense had you not had the same concern as him. Ayaka sent both of you an assuaging smile.

“Hirotatsu and Hirano will still be there, and I highly doubt that someone would attempt foul play this early in the process. This may be the best chance we have, and having both of you go will be more effective.”

Her logic was solid. To an extent.

“How are we going to make anyone talk to us?” you asked, more as thinking out loud than as an actual question. But to that, Thoma already had an answer.

It did not take you long to find a Watatsumi soldier patrolling the halls of the Shrine, nor for him to scowl upon seeing you wandering around unsupervised. Thoma quickly apologized and flashed one of his disarming smiles before asking to see one General Gorou. You did not recall having come across that name before and were surprised to see a rather young man with streaks of white among his light brown hair and prominent canine features. You were certainly imagining things when you thought you saw the slightest wagging of a tail when he saw the two of you.

 “Thoma, it is a pleasure to finally meet you,” the General greeted, and the earnestness in his voice made him appear even younger.

“The pleasure is all mine, General Gorou. Haha, I didn’t know my reputation as a fixer had traveled this far.”

There was a warning in Thoma’s words, so subtle that you could have missed it hadn’t Gorou started stammering.

“I- uh, yes, of course.”

With all the information you already had, it was not difficult to put together that Thoma and Gorou must have been in contact before concerning the smuggling operations to Watatsumi. And that Thoma was determined not to let the slightest hint of it show.

He still did not trust you. He was right, of course. You couldn’t blame him. But neither could you stop the taste of ash from invading your mouth.

Thoma and Gorou walked side by side in the worn-out road leading to Bourou Village. The General had since abandoned any semblance of excitedness and listened intensely as Thoma explained what you sought to achieve with your visit. Gorou vowed to do his best, but he could not promise results. Some wounds, he said, were still too fresh. That, you knew. You just hadn’t understood how much until you reached the village.

During the civil war, the fighting had remained far away from Watatsumi’s shores. The Shogunate had not managed to step a single toe on the island for the entirety of the conflict. There were no buildings ruined by arrows and fire, no dendrobiums springing from the ground. But the war had a way of marking through absence.

 You could see it in the holes in the walls and roofs of some of the houses (pieces removed to gather resources for the war effort or never fixed?).

In the lack of cats and dogs roaming around (fled? Eaten?).

In the empty flowerbeds (plucked? Dead?).

A sleeve blowing under the wind instead of hanging to an arm. A limp in a leg that would never run again. The wrinkles around a mouth that did not smile.

The group was not numerous – six, you counted. The reds and pinks of their uniforms were dull from use and fighting, but still vibrant enough to serve as a warning. Their battle wounds did not prevent them from promptly gathering near the entrance to the village, lining up as if forming a barrier. No, they were a barrier. The looks shared between the villagers, ranging from fearfulness to open hostility, showed you as much.

They saluted as you approached, and Gorou returned the greeting with an “At ease, soldiers.”

Their stance relaxed only a fraction. Gorou took visible effort to smoothen his frown.

“These are the retainers working for Miss Kamisato, who, as you know, is serving as mediator for the negotiations. They are to have a look at the village and talk to some people.”

To the soldiers’ credit, they did not incur in the wide eyes and baffled whispers that the villagers behind them did. Instead, their discomfort was conveyed in the form of tensing of jaws and thinning of lips.

“General Gorou, sir. They are from the Shogunate.”

Gorou paused. Looked at the soldier who had spoken with a gaze that was intense not like fire or ice, but like gravity itself. It pinned the soldier in place. Back in her place.

The soldier lowered her head and, almost immediately, the others shifted in their feet. Not quite opening way, but not exactly blocking it either. Gorou’s eyes hovered over them.

“They are guests of Her Excellency. They will be treated as such until the end of their stay.”

If their answer was not energetic, at least it was unequivocal. “Yes, sir.”

As tense as that reception had been, you soon realized it had been the easy part. As soon as the soldiers stepped back – but did not back down, did not lower their gazes nor their guards – the villagers moved away as well. A few scrambled into the houses, but most of them stood by the sides, chins up and eyes following your every move. Daring you to make one.

It finally hit you that these people did not know what the Kamisatos were doing for them. Of course; one could not trust an entire village with a secret like that. It was likely that only high-ranking officers like Gorou knew who was supplying the provisions that had kept Watatsumi free for over an year now.

Gorou led you across the village to an elderly woman who introduced herself as Granny Komaki. Her words to you were devoid of softness, as was her gaze. But at least she talked. She told you of the effects of the embargo on their medicine and food supplies. Of how the overfishing and hunting in the first few months had led to even more scarcity for the rest of the year. Of how, in some parts of the island, the soil was irreparably damaged after all the attempts they made at growing more crops.

She did not speak of death. Of children sick and malnourished. And you silently thanked Ayaka for that absence.

In the end, though, Komaki could not tell you everything. There were many divergent views on peace with the Shogunate, and even those who supported the negotiations, like Komaki herself, had their concerns about Sangonomiya’s autonomy. If you truly wanted to understand them, you would get input from more villagers. Villagers who, even with Gorou at your side, were unwilling to answer your questions with anything longer than two syllables.

“The more we understand your side, the more we can seek a balanced outcome in the negotiations,” Thoma tried again. “We are trying to protect your interests too.”

The earnestness in his voice had no effect on the former soldier, except to make his grimace deepen. An angry red scar ran from his temple to his jaw, and the eye in-between was a milky white orb. It looked recent enough that you had a good guess from where he had gotten it. You were careful to keep your eyes around his entire face; not afraid, aggressive. It did not soften him as much as you had hoped.

“Sorry if I find that hard to believe,” the man spat unapologetically.

Thoma nodded once more, drawing deep from the well of patience within him. “I understand your reticence. If there is anything we can-”

A strangled cry pierced your ears, disrupting the veil of caution and quietness that had followed you into the village. Agitation spread like wildfire, and the man Thoma had been talking to waved his hand and led a group towards the village’s entrance, where the sound had come from. Gorou sprinted after them – not yet drawing a weapon, but his fingers were flexed to allow him to do so at a moment’s notice. You and Thoma followed from a distance.

Your eyes widened when you spotted two Shogunate soldiers, probably from Kujou Sara’s delegation, with a small boy between them. Sand dripped from his clothes as he walked, and there was some in his hair as well. His face was scrunched up, not in pain, but like Bo’s would be when you caught him stealing one of Elke’s pastries, before he started believing you when you said you wouldn’t tell.

Your brain scrambled to put the pieces together, but not fast enough. One of the villagers addressed them.

“What are you doing here?”

“We were just escorting the kid back home. Wouldn’t want him to get lost on the way.”

Any semblance of harmlessness in those words was washed away by the mocking tone in which they were delivered. The villagers huddled closer to one another, as if trying to make themselves bigger and scare the soldiers away. A few glanced back at you and Thoma, and their anger burned brighter than their fear. Wondering if you had brought the Shogunate to their doorstep, if you were cornering them.

Probably reaching the same conclusion as you, Thoma put a hand on your shoulder and tugged at it so you would both take a step back.

“Shota. Come here,” the man who had first addressed the soldiers spoke. The boy obeyed, but each of his steps was ridden with hesitation. He stopped beside the man, as barely at arm’s length. The Shogunate soldier chuckled.

“Don’t be too hard on him, he was just playing by the beach. He was even kind enough to share his snack with us.”

The second soldier, whose mouth had been stuck in a thin line that entire time, rummaged through his pocket and raised his hand. The pinkish juice of a half-eaten Amakumo Fruit ran down his fingers.

Silence fell upon them like a wave. A sudden crash that stole breaths and left nothing but a disorienting cold in its wake. Halting any reaction. Even Gorou had frozen.

“I wonder,” the first soldier started, letting his eyes hover the crowd, “how the kid got his hands in a fruit that only grows in Seirai Island and is commercialized only by the Shogunate.”

The sound of feet shifting against the ground could be heard from the villagers at the back. As if they were preparing to fight – or to run away. Their closeness no longer felt defiant, but only fearful. After all, if they tried to justify the fruits’ presence on the island, if they feigned ignorance, if they said nothing, it was all the same. It was all suspicious enough to be reported to Kujou Sara. And if she launched an investigation…

Gorou took a step forward. His fingers were still flexed. He opened his mouth.

“Man, just chill, I gave it to him.”

A series of heads snapped in your direction at once. You huffed as you crossed your arms across your chest, broadcasting your annoyance to anyone who cared to look.

“I brought a bunch of them, the kid saw me eating, got curious, I gave him one. You’re not gonna tell me I broke some law, are you?”

The second soldier finally allowed his expression to change. Like his partner, it seemed he had just taken notice of your and Thoma’s presence.

“You are… Miss Kamisato’s retainers.”

“Correct, this is us,” Thoma said, stepping forward with a smile. You trailed behind, mouth still pursed. The soldiers’ gazes shifted between Thoma and you, and you watched with hidden delight as the confidence in them evaporated.

The first soldier turned to you. “And you gave this fruit to the boy?”

You rolled your eyes. “Yes, I did. What are you making such a fuss about?”

“Watatsumi Island is not supposed to receive goods from the Shogunate-”

“I can’t share one fruit with a kid? Gosh, don’t even bother reporting to Madam Kujou, I’ll turn myself in right now.”

“No, that’s-” the soldier caught himself, eyes widening for a moment. You could practically see the gears turning in his brain, processing the new information, weighing how much trouble he would be in for creating trouble over something like that with a retainer of the Kamisato Clan.

The absurdity of the situation finally dawned upon him.

“That won’t be necessary. We… were just being careful.”

“Of course!” Thoma beamed, clasping a hand on your shoulder just as you were about to retort. “We know you are just doing your job. In fact, we are here on behalf of Miss Kamisato to try to get a feeling from the people about the negotiations. And I believe that the presence of Shogunate envoys here might make them more hesitant to speak freely. Could I ask that you don’t stay around the village while we are doing that? It would be very helpful for the meeting tomorrow, with Madam Kujou.”

“Yes, of course,” the second soldier said quickly. “We are sorry for having wasted your time. And we are sorry for the misunderstanding.” The last part, to your surprise, was directed at the villagers.

The first soldier cast one last glance over the crowd, but quickly followed his companion across the bridge and away from Bourou Village. They did not dally, but every step seemed too slow when you and the whole village were holding your breaths. When their backs finally could not be seen anymore did you stir. And so did all the others. Sighs, shoulders sagging, heads shaking. Unmistakable, palpable relief.

Gorou was the first to look at you. His expression was solemn, fitting for a battle-hardened general, and yet it beamed unmistakably with gratitude.

“Thank you, Hitomi. You too, Thoma.”

You shrugged dismissively, avoiding his gaze, only to feel the familiar heat of Thoma’s hand setting upon your shoulder. But the eyes you had expected to meet, they were not looking at you.

“Why did they-”

Their stares burned your cheeks, but you refused to meet them. Any word you dropped would only add to a maelstrom you could not control. If you stayed quiet, they might just surmise that it was an impulse, that you had only wanted to avoid conflict when the negotiations were reaching a critical point.

“Aren’t they going to tell on us?”

“But what if they are the ones-”

The air felt stifling, hurried whispers crashing into each other by the second. The hand on your shoulder grew tenser. Thoma’s mind was probably racing as much as yours was, scrambling for something that would throw the villagers off track. Something to keep them from wandering why the retainers of the Kamisato Clan had so readily jumped in their defense if not because they had a hand on it in the first place.

“Now, Kinjirou,” Gorou’s voice sounded, startling you. The boy from before hesitantly looked up at the General, cheeks burning as if lit on fire. “You know it’s not safe to accept things from strangers before checking with your parents, right?”

Kinjirou opened his mouth, paused, closed it, and then nodded. Gorou was not satisfied. “At least Hitomi is a guest of Her Excellency and we can trust her, but if you don’t know someone, it’s better not to accept anything or go home immediately to show your parents. Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” the boy said quietly, throwing a confused glance your way. You might have been the only one who noticed, though. The rest of the villagers had their eyes on Gorou.

“This matter here is solved, and there is no use talking about it anymore.”

Those were not his troops but, with how quickly the whispering stopped, you would not have been able to tell the difference. You did your best to keep your expression stoic, but something must have betrayed you, for Gorou turned to you again and, in a soft murmur, said, “Don’t worry about anything. Watatsumi keeps its secrets.”

The words were said with the confidence one talks about the sun rising. Not a promise, a fact.

Your gaze hovered over the villagers, locking onto each of their faces, trying to commit them to memory. It was impossible to have that level of trust among so many people. There was always a gossiper, a crook, someone too desperate, willing to do anything for some Mora, for a favor. There was always a traitor.

Or maybe that was another absence the war had forged.

“So.”

The scarred man you had been talking to before stepped forward. His arms were uncrossed.

“You’d better be ready to listen, ‘cause I’ve got a lot to say about the Shogunate’s proposals.”

The sun had already set by the time you and Thoma returned to the Sangonomiya Shrine. You had managed to hear from all the people who had been in Bourou Village that day. Even the kids, for they were the ones who would inherit whatever outcome that erupted from those meetings.

The concerns were many. Some feared they would have to assimilate to the Shogunate’s customs and stop worshiping Orobashi. Others worried about the influx of Shogunate goods competing with the local ones in Watatsumi. Others simply did not feel any allegiance towards the Shogun, nor were they excited to try after the Vision Hunt Decree. You and Thoma relayed all of the information to Ayaka as minutely as you could and spent the rest of the night with her, going over the proposals for the settlement and how to approach each one of them. Naturally, it was impossible to please every single person, but Ayaka was determined to find the most balanced solution. To keep Watatsumi from having to concede on their most important concerns and the Shogunate from feeling powerless before Sangonomiya’s authority over the island.

It drove you insane that you were not allowed into the negotiation room. Only Ayaka, Sangonomiya, and Kujou Sara were there, with samurai from each of the parties guarding the doors. Thick doors, it seemed, for even though you strolled close to them, you could not hear a whisper of what went on inside.

“It’s going to be fine,” Thoma said in such a calm tone that it made you want to shake him by the shoulders. He probably noticed, for he grabbed your hand first. “She’s prepared as much as

“I know that,” you retorted, nose scrunching in annoyance. “I just wished I could see her there. See their faces watching her.”

For reasons you could not fathom, Thoma’s smile seemed to soften at the heat of your displeasure.

“Come on. Let’s take a walk.”

For an island where so many secrets laid buried, the waters of Watatsumi were exceedingly clear. More than once, you found yourself following the trail of unfamiliar fish that veered too close to the surface. And when you did not, when your thoughts would drift back to that meeting room and your shoulders would sag, Thoma would call your attention. Point out a different kind of flower growing nearby, pick up a sango pearl, absorb the scenery with eyes wide in wonder.

He started asking about Fontaine. It was not the first time he did that, yet, every time, he managed to coax some kind of new information from you. About the sea, the wildlife. The city, the things you missed. He hung on to your every word, a reminder that his permanence in Narukami was more a by-product of a terrifying sense of responsibility than free choice. It made you wonder what it would be like for him to travel and see Fontaine for himself. If you could show it to him.

You stopped by a riverbank, far enough from the Shrine that no maidens or samurai were in sight. The river was shallow and ran slow despite the small waterfall nearby. By then, your anxieties about the negotiations had been moved to a quieter corner in your mind. Somewhere you could hear them without drowning in the noise. The sand shifted as you sat down, letting your fingers brush against the soft waves. With them went your words, leaving a quiet that you had not sought but welcomed still.

Moments of peace like that never lasted. Not with you.

“Hitomi.”

The name weighed on his tongue, and from that you knew what his next words were going to be.

“Yesterday at Bourou Village. How long have you known?”

You knew of many answers that would have satisfied his inquiry. From denial to elaborate ruses. You could make every single of them believable – use everything you had learned so far, play with the trust and familiarity you had painstakingly sowed over months. Just like you had always done, as easy as breathing.

But by the time you opened your mouth, the effort of breathing took you by surprise. Fatigue settled upon your back, pushing the air away from your lungs and, with it, the will to lie.

You found strength in half-truths.

“Not long. I knew there was something going on when I saw the bulk purchases and how Yoimiya didn’t know her fireworks were being exported. And when I saw that Beidou was doing business with the Commission, well. She is a pirate.”

The words flowed with a lightness you did not feel. A part of you expected – wanted – Thoma to call you out on it. If only Thoma were not too used to subverting your expectations.

He diverted his gaze towards the river. The quietness was replaced by silence – that thick, suffocating blanket of absence. Even under your intense scrutiny, you could not comprehend his reaction. The slumping of shoulders, the curve of his lips that was more grimace than smile.

“Milady wanted to tell you about it earlier. I was the one who told her she shouldn’t.”

It was reasonable advice. Excellent, actually. He had been right not to trust you, especially with a secret of that magnitude. So you nodded, hummed in agreement, all to convince yourself that that acrid taste had no place in your mouth.

“I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry.”

It was an explosion, the bitterness spreading so quickly that you could not keep your mouth shut.

“No, wait- You shouldn’t say that.” The words ran over each other, but you could not stop. “This is a big thing- I mean- it would throw the Clan in disrepute if anyone knew. You can’t just trust anyone with that information.”

Thoma whipped his head towards you, and the sheer intensity of his gaze had you shifting backwards.

“You are not ‘anyone’.”

The green shimmered as if aflame, fueled by a myriad of contradictions that you could see, but not understand. Anger and hopefulness. Attack and protection. Rain amidst the sun.

“Thoma.” Your tongue swirled around the name, struggling to form it. It felt wrong to say it, but even worse not to. “ I’m the newcomer here. You’ve been with the Kamisatos for more than a decade. You shouldn’t trust me just like that.”

“But don’t you see?”

The sand shifted again, though you did not move.

“You’ve earned it. And I’m not the only one who thinks that. Milady and milord- everything you’ve done for them, for me-”

Warmth enveloped your fingers.

“Ayato and Ayaka saved my life. I owe everything to them, and I’ve vowed to always support them and keep them from harm. So I have to be careful about anyone who might not have their best interests at heart.”

“Naturally.”

Thoma sucked in a breath.

“I cannot say that I am sorry for being wary of you at first. But I am sorry that I might have made you feel that you are not worth trusting. Because you are. So much.”

He was wrong, of course.

–except when they were wrong your heart would race and you would know you had done it right, so right, and you were five again and catching your first fish. You were four and you were in Petrichor and you were safe. You were loved.

And now you were six and the blood had stained your hands more deeply than you could ever hope to wash away.

But perhaps it wasn’t water that you needed. Perhaps some stains were meant to be burned instead.

“I know you have a hard time believing that. But I meant everything I said to you the other day. And I’ll do what it takes to make you see it.”

Pressure gathered against the back of your head, threatening to spill over. Unaware, your eyes drifted beyond interlaced fingers and upon a crimson glint.

“Was that how you got your Vision? By protecting the Kamisatos?”

The light tightening of his hand was the only indication of his surprise. A beat of silence passed before Thoma answered.

“No. I got it by deciding that was what I was going to do.”

Ambition, not results. That was what the Archons rewarded. Yours had never reached the bar. Or maybe survival was not a worthy enough goal.

“How did it feel?”

Another pause followed, filled by the rough pad of a thumb running against your knuckles. You let it and tried not to think of how Thoma chose his words with the same care that he did everything else.

“Like my dad was with me. I felt like… Like he would have approved of my decision.”

Papa and Oton would never have approved of yours. Yet, you wondered. Would they have seen a sliver of hope for you the way Thoma seemed to?

“I’ve always wanted a Hydro Vision.”

The confession flowed quietly, drowned in the river. You thought for a moment that Thoma had not heard you. But when you dared to turn your head, his stare was already upon you, and his lips quirked like he was letting you into a secret and not the other way around.

“Why Hydro?”

Why indeed? You had mulled over the answer for several years. It had been pulled out of you once by Baptiste when you were still a teenager. You had been conscientious enough to give a smart response: manipulating water would make it easier to apply and disguise poison. It could disarm and kill without leaving substantial marks. Granted, it was useful for someone in your line of occupation.

If the question had come from any other of your companions in Inazuma – Itto, Shinobu, Ayaka, even Yoimiya –, you would have replied nothing would be more fitting for a Fontainian, born and raised among rivers and lakes. A gift from Lady Furina herself.

But the first time you had wanted it, when you had known that it had to be Hydro, was a memory buried in layers of bitterness, regret, and avoidance. Layers that Thoma had excavated one by one.

“I wanted to catch all the fish in the world in water bubbles. So my Oton would stop fishing and play with me.”

Oton had thrown his head back and laughed at the idea. It had not been a gesture of mocking– no, like everything he did, it had been gentle and welcoming. He had ruffled your head and said he would love to see that. The images in your mind depicted a sunset, which made no sense, because Oton would always get up before the sun came out and be done before it left. But his manner had always reminded you of sunsets. The way the warmth of the last rays of sunlight was softened by the evening breeze at the docks of Petrichor.

You could not remember what you had said after that. Probably some self-important proclamation of how, one day, you would do just that and conquer the waters with your Vision. You wished that you had simply told him you loved him.

A light touch on your shoulder and you were back on Watatsumi. The intensity of Thoma’s gaze should have felt uncomfortable. It did not. It felt warm. Like the sunrise.

Thoma lifted a thumb to your cheek, and you felt dampness spreading and evaporating under the warm touch. He held your gaze a moment longer before he spoke.

“Vision or no Vision, he would be proud of you.”

“You don’t know that.”

The words did not come out nearly as bitingly as you had wanted to. Instead, they sounded tired. Too meek to counter the spark Thoma had lit.

“From everything you’ve told me about your dads, I’m sure of it.”

You leaned back, taking your face away from his fingers as if that could stop the heat rapidly spreading across your neck. Your eyes drifted towards the water, so you did not see the change in Thoma’s expression.

“You know, there is still something you can do even without a Hydro Vision.”

He got up and took a few steps towards the river, stopping when the water reached above his ankles. You frowned, but he only shot you a grin, bright as the sun itself and just as blinding. You realized his intentions too late, when Thoma had already bent down and slapped a hand into the water.

The splash was not that big – it barely hit your knees, the damp spots it left on your trousers sure to dry quickly. It was just enough.

You jumped to your feet immediately. “That was low, Thoma!”

You ran towards him, kicking the water in his direction. Thoma jumped to the side to avoid the attack, splashing even more water onto himself in the process. You took the opportunity to bend down yourself and furiously swat a series of waves towards him. After a few dramatic yelps, he retaliated.

Arches of waterdrops sprinkled around you in a confusing dance following the rhythm of laughter. They clung to your clothes, your hair, and the weight of the dampness inexplicably only lifted your spirits higher. Thoma splashed a larger wave at you and turned, trying to put more distance between the two of you. You lunged immediately, tackling him by the waist and leading both of you into a slow fall into the river.

“I yield! Mercy, mercy!”

The laughter evaporated rather than sunk, reaching higher and higher into the sky. The agitation of the fight seemed to have kept the world around you in stasis – a small bubble of eternity in which only the two of you stirred stirred. In contrast, the growing quietness made time move forward again. Where the waters had shone blue now reflected oranges and pinks. The warmth of the blazing sun had been swept away by a chilly breeze presaging the arrival of other kinds of stars.

With the adrenaline fading, the pressure of your knees against the sand underwater started to bother you. You shifted your weight backwards to sit down, almost bumping against Thoma’s chin in the process.

“Woah, careful,” he chuckled, moving out of the way.

You plopped down beside him and fought back a shiver. Your soaked clothes seemed to heighten the sensation of Thoma’s arm brushing against yours.

Another light touch against your arm made her jolt. Head whipping up, you saw that Thoma had adjusted his position and was staring straight at you. His headband was skewed, his hair disheveled, and a few locks had fallen out of his ponytail. And yet his eyes reflected the same gentle steadiness they always did, the green somehow even more vibrant amongst the colors of sunset.

It was beautiful. He was.

Thoma’s lips parted but no sound came out. You watched as his throat bobbed and he tried again.

“Hitomi.”

His voice was a whisper, a drastic change from the havoc you had been wreaking but moments before. You reached forward ever so slightly, with the excuse of hearing him better. An excuse you did not believe yourself.

 “Yes?”

Your fingers touched his underwater. Neither of you moved away.

Something flickered in his eyes. You could not pinpoint what. Your attention was divided between holding Thoma’s gaze and quelling the sudden and unwelcome bubbling that had seized your stomach.

You felt the soft exhale coming from his lips, caressing your skin. Your eyes drifted down to them. You could not look away, even as they moved closer. Even as you did as well.

“Thoma! Hitomi!”

You jerked back instantly, almost falling back into the water. Thoma retracted as well, head snapping towards the voice. Hirano was by the shore, calling out to you with a look of worry.

“Is everything alright?”

“Ye-yes! Thank you, Hirano! We were just picking some sango pearls and ended up falling into the water.” Somehow, Thoma managed to steady his voice enough to answer. You kept quiet, lest your thumping heart escaped from your mouth.

“Do you need any help? The meeting has just ended, and Lady Kamisato would like to debrief with you.”

You felt the water growing colder. If the meeting had come to an end, just how long had you been there?

“Please tell Lady Kamisato that we are on our way. We will just get a change of clothes.”

Thoma promptly got up and turned to offer you a hand, but you had already risen to your feet as well. You crossed your arms over her chest, a feeble attempt to stop the cold from seeping through your bones.

Your appearance attracted some odd stares at the Shrine but the servants and visitors were polite enough not to make any remarks. You walked quickly, trying to ignore the wet stains your footsteps left on the wooden floor.

Just as you were about to enter your chambers, you felt a touch on your forearm.

“Hey,” Thoma called softly, forcing you to look at him for the first time you they had left the water. His smile only made your arms tighten more, as though they were the only thing holding you together. “Thank you for today.”

“For what?” A chill ran through your spine, and it had nothing to do with the soggy clothes.

“Just for… being here. Being you.”

Your chin barely tilted up and down, overcome with stiffness. It was the only gesture you managed before you turned and closed the door. As soon the physical barrier separating you was in place, your shoulders sagged, you leaned your weight against the door and slid down.

Frustration bubbled in your chest. At yourself for having lost awareness of your surroundings. At Thoma for having started the water fight. At Hirano for having interrupted you. Had Hirano arrived one minute later-

You would have done something terribly stupid and impulsive. Compromised your position.

You would have kissed Thoma.

Your fists closed around tufts of your hair, pulling as though the pain could make the realization more bearable.

You should be hailing Hirano as a hero for his timing, and, instead, you were cursing him. Because you had wanted to kiss Thoma. You had been wanting that for a while.

You could no longer downplay it as mere physical attraction or confusing feelings of camaraderie. Not when he was the first person you wanted to talk to about the new seeds you had bought, your theories about manga, the scenes you had witnessed at the marketplace. Not when the mere thought of him was enough to send your heart racing. When everything you did reminded you of him.

You were in love with Thoma. And you were meant to destroy everything he cared about.

Chapter Text

In hindsight, it had been doomed from the start. She had just signed up for the Adventurer’s Guild and was rising fast in their ranks. You had been rising as well, juggling multiple assignments from Baptiste while keeping your existence hidden from any official records. She had wanted to set foot in every nation and never look back. You were forever bound to the Court of Fontaine. She had been quiet as the winter, and you were the scorching summer at the peak of your rage.

She had been your first kiss. You, her last.

But you hadn’t known that when you clenched the letter into your fists as if that could crush the words inside, erase them from the world.

“I’m so sorry, ma pouce.”

You had not told Baptiste what she had said. You didn’t have to – he knew, he always did. The words were stained all over your face for him to read.

“I should have known.”

You threw the bait haphazardly, begging for Baptiste to take it. To berate your lack of foresight, for thinking that relationship could ever have worked out when he had told you time and time again that was a fantasy. In your line of work, there would always be too many masks in the way of a proper kiss.

A hand landed on your head. Softly, carefully. Still, you stiffened, waiting for the sparks of Electro to start. The fact that they didn’t only made you more alert.

“At least now you’ve learned, poupouce. It’s her loss, you know? Come on, I’ll make you some hot chocolate.”

It took four years for some unfortunate diver to find her remains in the waters of the Elton Trench. A few more months for the Melusines to identify the skeleton. And even after all those years, you could not escape the tightness in your chest, the guilt inflating every time the thought crossed your mind. That she might have left you, but she had not managed to leave Fontaine.

A veil of tranquility draped around the household in a way it had not since well before your arrival. The negotiations had gone well. Terrifically so. Kujou and Sangonomiya had signed a memorandum of understanding laying down the bases of a permanent agreement and sent it to the Shogun for approval. Ayaka was confident that the Shogun would accept it. And so was Ayato, if the little curve at the edge of his lips way after Ayaka had left the room was anything to go by. After years of tension and struggle, there was finally a road in sight for peace in all Inazuma.

“Hitomi, wait!”

The grip on your wrist halted your hand and your breath. Thoma smiled apologetically and carefully removed the spoon from your hands, not dropping a flicker of the white powder into the bowl you were standing over.

“This is the sugar. The salt is over there.”

All Inazuma except your own mind, clearly.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t beat yourself up about it! If I told you the number of times I got the two mixed up and had to throw away the food…”

You nodded wordlessly, turning your gaze back to the dinner preparations.

“I have to go check something with Ayaka. You got this covered?”

“Yeah.”

You did not check if the monosyllabic reply had had any impact. It was hard to tell which would be worse – seeing that smile or its absence. But ignorance did little to ease the stiffness around your shoulders. It grew instead with each tap of footsteps leaving the kitchen.

You had had worse. Gotten used to the weight at the back of your mind, whether it was from an all-consuming maelstrom or a rockslide that had settled years ago and never disturbed since. And through all of that, you had learned to focus. Follow orders, please, survive. Above all else, survive. You had gotten that far, after all. You just had to keep telling yourself that. You kept telling yourself that.

And then the chilly breeze would blow, hinting at the fast-approaching winter, and your thoughts would drift to how to best protect the camellias until spring came. The night would come and you would picture extra stars exploding in the sky. And every moment in between, in the silence, you would hear a laugh. Spot a smile even when it wasn’t there. Shiver with the memory of an almost touch-

You jolted, clutching clutch the bowl close to your chest to keep it from spilling. You put it down gently, despite your trembling hands and the pounding in your chest. Your head fell between your hands as you leaned against the counter.

All things considered, you had been doing an exceptional job at avoiding the Kamisatos ever since you had gotten back from Watatsumi. Just for a while, until you collected your thoughts. Ayaka had been too busy with her affairs to take notice. Probably preparing some reports for the Shogunate about the meeting.

(It could only be that, right? Logically. So there was no reason for you to look more into it. Even though you should have known. You should have been paying more attention. You had to get away.)

Ayato had stopped ordering you to join him in impromptu chess matches. Your paths barely crossed.

(Finally. What a relief.)

There was no avoiding Thoma, not when your work schedules coincided so much. But now these shared moments were brief. He would eat breakfast quickly and leave, mentioning some errand around the island. Throughout the day, you would see him moving up and down nonstop, barely sparing you a glance. More than once, you had heard his voice intermingled with the Kamisatos’ behind closed doors.

He still talked to you. Asked about the flowers, your readings, any and every topic that seemed to pop into his mind. But always quickly, between tasks, one step and then another and he was gone. At some point, you had to admit that you were not avoiding Thoma as much as Thoma was avoiding you.

The realization had been sinking into your chest for days. Slow and steady, always downward. And though it cluttered your mind more than you liked to admit, you knew it was of no real consequence. It didn’t change the situation you were in, stalling to complete a job you did not want to while the clock ticked towards a deadline you could not pinpoint but knew was fast approaching. You had no excuse for failure and no reward for success.

“Alright, one more time. Koi or butterfly?”

“Depends. With what seasoning?”

Yoimiya groaned with unusual exasperation.

“Hitomi, please. I have two days to finish them!”

You blinked slowly, and the wings of the butterfly seemed to flutter as your gaze refocused. That could never be a good sign. You tapped the other page of the notebook.

“Koi.”

“Thank you!”

Without further ceremony, the woman snatched the notebook and turned to another desk, where a bundle of fireworks shells labelled with different colors waited to be arranged.

“If you’re running late on the order, you shouldn’t have waited for me.”

“I’m not running late! And I wanted your opinion! I mean, you know Ayaka’s tastes better than I do.”

Oh. Yes. That had been the original question, hadn’t it?

“Actually, better go with the butterfly.”

Blonde hair whipped as Yoimiya’s eyes widened at you with bafflement.

“Sorry, sorry! It’s definitely the butterfly, trust me. She’s going to love it.”

The reassurance worked well enough, and Yoimiya’s bright grin popped back into place as if it had never left. It dislodged the pebble that had been sitting in your gut just enough to let the air through – a small comfort that you had not realized you needed. It was far too momentary, though.

“Ayaka didn’t ask me to help this time.”

Yoimiya did not miss a beat in replying. No doubt she had noticed already. “I’m sure she’s just optimizing your time! I mean, it’s such a small thing, and you’re full of other chores.”

It was small. A quaint, cheerful festival under the guise of a last celebration before winter’s temperatures became too low to be outside. Not so many were expected to attend, so the attractions and the decorations had been secured without rush. That made it even more suspicious that Thoma had been so busy readying it. Or that he had refused your help.

Or that he had not tried to kiss you again.

You ran a hand over your face, swatting away the unwanted thought. The action did not go unnoticed.

“Hey, don’t stress over it, okay? Ayaka knows how well you work. If she didn’t ask for your help this time, it’s because she saw no need to trouble you with it.”

Or because they had finally realized how deep the cracks in your mask went.

You gave Yoimiya a small show of teeth that you hoped could pass as a smile.

“Well, at least she’s going to be happy with the butterfly fireworks,” you said, stretching your back before getting up. “If you don’t need anything else from me, I’ve got some errands to run.”

“Don’t worry, I’m all covered!” Yoimiya picked up a few shells to emphasize her point. With a wave of your hand, you bid your goodbyes and turned your back to Naganohara Fireworks. You still had one more appointment that day, and you were late for it. Purposefully so.

The restaurant was not difficult to find. The nooks and alleys of Inazuma City were far simpler to navigate than the Court of Fontaine’s and, by that point, you were well familiar with the design of the city. You tugged the hood of your coat further down, thanking the chilly morning for the excuse.

The door creaked loudly when you opened it, but the sound was lost in the racket of customers with voices too loud and too intoxicated for that hour of the day. The stuffy air hit you like a punch to the nose – garlic, and grease, and pork, and butter, and oil, and all heaviest items one could find in Inazuma mixed together. It took all your restraint to keep your face neutral as you surveyed the place.

His eyes were already on you when you found him. Even from afar, displeasure was evident in Sylvain’s face.

“You’d better have good news,” were his words of greeting as you sat across from him. You pinched the bridge of your nose, starting to feel the headache mounting.

“The good news is that the situation is stable.”

“Which means you’ve got nothing. Again.” Sylvain crossed his arms and hid his hands inside his coat. You knew that was close to where he kept his gun, and he knew that you knew. His mood must have been worse than you had thought if he was going for threatening displays so early into the conversation.

“You know something. You can’t have gone to Watatsumi with them and not learned something.”

Your frown deepened as your natural defenses kicked up. “Oh, I learned plenty. Did you know that the soil there is really poor? And that the color of sango pearls depends on the minerals in the water? I could tell you a bunch more of fun facts, because that was all I learned in that Archons-damned island when I was left out of the fucking secret meeting.”

“Don’t give me that bullshit,” Sylvain cut in immediately, banging a fist on the table.

A couple of men from a few tables away sent him a look but quickly resumed their drinking. Sylvain did not seem to notice – he never took his eyes off you. One of his arms twitched inside the coat. You sighed.

“I’ve already told you everything I could gather. The Kamisatos are optimistic about a full peace agreement and an end to the embargo. And so is Kujou. Whatever shady business they have, it won’t last much longer. If we couldn’t learn anything up until now, we probably won’t at all.”

“You’ve been living there for almost a year. It’s not possible that you haven’t found out anything. You always find what we’re looking for. You’ve done this all your life.”

“You’re dangerously close to a compliment, you know.”

“The clients are pissed, and the Croque-mitaine can’t cover for you anymore.”

You propped an elbow on the table and let your head rest on your fist, lips twisting with a fatal air of ennui. It was all you could do to keep your hand from trembling.

“What then? Is he calling me off?”

“Obviously not. Not after all we’ve invested.”

You had already expected that answer, but it did not make the taste any more pleasant. Sylvain paused for a second, and it was in that moment of reprieve that you noticed how the red tendrils spread around his irises, making the gold stand out even more. He had not been sleeping well, that was certain. That should have brought you satisfaction, not the cold surreptitiously rising at the back of your throat.

Before you could work out what to make of his state, Sylvain spoke again.

“The Croque-mitaine is growing soft.”

You rolled your eyes way too hard, putting too much effort into making the movement seem natural. “Jealousy isn’t going to help you.”

To your surprise, Sylvain chuckled. A crispy, rich sound full of meanings he was dying to let you into.

“You still think you’re his favorite or something? Please, marmotte. No, I mean in general. Look at the way the past jobs have gone. And we still have all our limbs, right? Remember that guy that messed up the bribes to the Maison Gestion? Archons, he didn’t last a month.”

“That was different. He was just a temp.”

He wasn’t us, were the words left unspoken. Sylvain heard them anyway.

“Nah, wouldn’t have made a difference. He was ruthless. Made sure we knew that no one is irreplaceable. Actually,” Sylvain shifted in his seat, tucking a stray strand of hair behind his ears. His pupils were tiny dots in pool of gold. “I’m surprised you’ve forgotten, considering how long you’ve been dealing with that Yashiro Commissioner.”

He shot those words as he did his gun. Lightly, seemingly effortlessly. Always hitting the mark.

The air felt stuck in your throat.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Come on, you know. They’ve got such similar styles.” His lips spread open, more snarl than grin. “Just look at how many of those lower clans fell after he took over. All those who cheated on the Kamisatos in some way or another… And the disappearances, of course. I bet your puppy did most of them. Did he ever mention anything to you? Do you trade tips on how to clean up afterwards? He has been the housekeeper for quite a while, after all.”

At this point, your hands had retreated underneath the table, but not even the physical barrier could hide their shaking. None of what Sylvain said was news. You were the one who had compiled most of that information. You were fully aware of what Kamisato Ayato had done to yank his clan up from the mire his father had left them in. You now knew of the Shuumatsuban, a force of strays picked up from the litter and taught obedience as unwavering as their blades, not so unlike what you had learned in Fontaine. And you knew the lengths Thoma was willing to go towards anyone who slighted the Kamisato name. The honeyed pleasantries and smiles had never fooled you. At the end of the day, the Kamisatos were just like any other faction, clinging to power while the world around them burned.

Except power was not the only thing they were after.

Your fists curled under the table.

“Do you have a point?”

A dark blue eyebrow shot up, signaling the inappropriateness of the question.

“The point,” Sylvain started slowly, clicking his tongue, “is that there are only two ways this job ends. Success or death. And death can come from anywhere.”

Whereas success could only come from the Croque-mitaines.

The truth had been hammering in your mind for weeks but hearing it out loud was a slap. The Kamisatos’ fate was sealed. You could do nothing to save them without forfeiting your own life. And you had gone too far for that.

And there were days when you thought you had not gone far enough. Days when the weight of the journal hidden under your mattress pressed against your chest. You had not read Papa’s words ever since returning from Watatsumi, but that mattered little – he had always had a way of engraving them into your mind, especially when you were trying to forget them.

It really warms my heart to see how kind you are. I hope you never lose that.

His hope had mattered little. You still wondered which version of you he would have preferred – kind or alive. Because, clearly, you could not be both.

“Archons, Hitomi, you must have been so scared.”

You had been. You had been sure that Tartaglia would have killed you, and you still had told Yoimiya. You had all the memories of that, and the events still felt like they had happened to a completely different person. You could not remember what your reasoning had been, what had possessed you to put yourself at such a risk.

Almost as much of a risk as the first time you had met the Harbinger.

“You’ve done good things too.”

A lie, a lie. He did not know you. He didn’t know all you had done. There was no coming back from that.

“I wanted to find a flower that reminded me of you. And I did. Lotus pluvieux.”

Out of the dark waters and into sunlight. You were no flower, and the deluge you had been trapped under had drowned you long ago.

Then why were you still thinking about this? Trying to find a miraculous way out when there was none?

“Hitomi, could you help me get dressed?”

In that curve on the lips of Kamisato Ayaka, where a quiet battle raged between propriety and excitement, you thought you almost knew the answer. You might have reflected more if a more urgent question had not been extended to you.

“Of course, milady.”

Ayaka rarely ever required assistance to prepare for the festivals, especially one as small as this. When she did, she would stay silent most of the time, as if the smallest sound would disrupt your concentration and trap you in the maze of Inazuman traditional wear. You could not deny it was a risk.

That day, though, Ayaka seemed eager to change the pattern.

“There will be a band playing tonight,” she remarked, opening up her arms as you ran another round of fabric across. “They attended the Biwa Music Festival and since then have been incorporating certain Mondstadtian elements in their music. They were kind enough to play a couple of songs to me when we were negotiating the contract. I believe you will appreciate it as well.”

“That sounds fantastic, milady.” And it did. A kind of open-mindedness that you had never expected to see in Inazuma, another fruit of the Shirasagi Himegimi’s tireless dedication. You hated to spoil it. “I am afraid I won’t go, though. I haven’t been feeling well.”

Ayaka dropped her arms, halting your work. Her eyes were uncharacteristically blown wide, an expression you had never expected seeing from the woman.

“Is that so? Is it something I can help with? Perhaps some fast-acting herbs?”

“No, milady, no-” Your brain was still trying to formulate a response for such an abrupt reaction. “I am not sick, it’s more of a… headache of sorts.”

“Ginger tea is perfect for that,” Ayaka said too quickly. She sucked in a breath immediately after and schooled her expression into a calmer one, betrayed only by the faint pink that blossomed across her cheeks. “My apologies, Hitomi. I understand if you are not feeling well enough to go, and your health naturally takes priority.”

Ayaka was too polite to insist, and you were too sharp to ignore her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve. If she wanted your presence so badly, you should indulge her.

“Then again, since it’s a small thing, I guess I’ll be fine.”

The relief in Ayaka’s smile was almost palpable. “That is great, Hitomi, thank you.” She spread out her arms again, and you resumed your work. Running the fabrics around her body, it was easy to see that Ayaka was still tense. No matter how thoughtful she was, you doubted she would be that concerned over a simple purported headache.

“I am curious to see what you have prepared this time,” you said with masterful casualness.  It plucked a smile from the woman.

“I will not say much, but I believe you will like it.”

You hummed, tugging at the obi to make sure it was in place. “So much secrecy… you’re only making me more curious, milady.”

“I would not say it’s a secret. More of a surprise. A gift.”

Your fingers stilled against Ayaka’s back. That was a threat you did not encounter often. The mask of kindness did not change what it was: a trap. Another thing to find out and prepare for.

Your tension must have shown, for Ayaka turned her head back to you, her smile softer. “Just give it a chance, please?”

It was a weak attack against your walls. It should have been. But those walls were old and you must not have been tending to the cracks as well as you thought. Not enough for something to slip through, but at least to hang in there. You swallowed hard. “I don’t deal very well with surprises, milady. And I am sure I don’t deserve a gift.”

“I am sure of the contrary,” Ayaka replied without hesitation. She stepped away, moving her arms in graceful circles to test how well tied the outfit was. A flicker of her wrist and a fan cascaded open – a soft lilac, matching the kimono Ayaka had chosen for the evening. She kept her lips behind the fan and allowed only the crinkles around her eyes to tease her expression as she beckoned you. “Shall we go?”

It was strange to see Amakane Island so empty, compared to how it had been during the Biwa Music Festival. Only a couple dozens of Inazumans had decided to brave the chilly night, and you recognized most of them from Konda Village. Futaba and Takeru barely paid you any mind as they ran past, too immersed in chasing fireflies with their own sparklers – a Naganohara courtesy. The adults were more conscious. You noticed their eyes trailing after the Shirasagi Himegimi and guessed even before they acted those who would be brave enough to spill greetings in her direction. A practiced smile, a few nods, and Ayaka was able to make each of them feel like they had been awarded a special prize. But it was only when you reached the center of the island that Ayaka’s smile melted into something genuine.

“There you are! We almost started eating without you!”

They would never dare, but the way Yoimiya shoved the sticks of tri-colored dango into your hands showed that her restraint was reaching its end. The soft apologies from Ayaka were drowned by Yoimiya’s frantic reassurances that she had been joking. By Itto’s munching and Shinobu’s hisses for the rest of the gang to behave or else. And then by Ayaka’s own laughter – not quite free but not quite controlled.

The music reached your ears a moment later, and you wondered if it had always been there. And then other things came, and perhaps they had always been there too. The nudges against your arm as Yoimiya jived about having had an expert consultant for the fireworks that evening. The carelessness with which Itto challenged you to a dango milk drinking contest and acknowledged your fierceness after not being able to handle a single bottle. The muffled snickers from behind Shinobu’s mask as she confided that the boss had been indulging himself since that afternoon and was bound to lose any food-related contests he insisted on having. And the way your cheeks hurt without pain.

“Hey there.”

Him, you knew, hadn’t always been there. You would have noticed.

“Thought you weren’t joining us,” you said, hands reaching to your pockets just to feel they were doing something. Thoma shook his head.

“Just had to run to the back for some final preparations. So, what do you think?”

Your eyes scanned the island once again. The crowd had scattered, their focus no longer on Ayaka, though the group the two of you had joined was by far the most rambunctious. For all their initial awe, they seemed to have forgotten about her entirely and went on to partake in the traditional festival activities. Masks, fans, and pinwheels had made their way into almost every hand on the island, a sea of colors amidst a gentle buzz of stories and laughter. It could have been a picture from a travel book, but you realized then that they would never do the land justice. They could not capture that quiet excitement that was so particular to Inazuma, that warmth that defied storms.

The music flowed through empty spaces rather than draping itself over the scene. It was anything but Inazuman. The notes of a harp blended in a soft but insistent allegretto, adding an air of wonder to the world around you. The stage was farther away from the center, but it had conquered a small crowd of its own.

They danced. Their movements were not grandiose like in Fontaine, or wild, as they might have been in Mondstadt. But they were genuine. Small steps, not always uncertain, learning to let go. Opening up.

Red and violet flashed amidst the crowd, and you could not help but be impressed with how subtle Yoimiya had been in her approach. Even as she twirled Ayaka you could see her restraint, keeping her joy quiet enough for it to belong to just the two of them, for the only eyes upon Ayaka to be her own, just for a while.

You felt almost breathless as you turned back to Thoma – to congratulate him, to tell him it was beautiful. The words got stuck in your mouth when you saw his hand. Outstretched, palm open, an unmistakable invitation.

“Would you like to dance?”

There was something shaky in that smile, but not uncertain. Controlled, too. Waiting for your permission to let go.

You gave it.

Each step could not come soon enough as you got closer to the stage. His fingers interlaced with yours and, though you were well aware that was not the first time you shared this proximity, something felt different. More deliberate. Surer, as he placed a hand over your hip and tugged you closer. Your other hand was firm on his shoulder, and Thoma both understood and accepted the gesture. You took the lead. Guided him slowly, carefully, making sure he knew where to go. But his steps were not nearly as messy as you had expected. Even as you took a step forward, he pulled back, deftly granting the twirl you had asked for.

You could see him laughing even before your feet were back in position, frowning even though you yourself struggled not to smile.

“I’m confused. If you can dance like this, what the hell was that thing you pulled off at Xinyan’s concert?”

He lowered his head, biting his lips to contain the full force of his laughter. You wished he would not.

“No, no, that was my true dancing prowess you saw that day,” Thoma managed to say, still chuckling. “I’ve been practicing… with the Kamisatos.”

The hushed conversations, the distance. It made sense, except for the part where you dared not imagine such a thing.

“I could have helped you,” you said, only to berate yourself for how meek your voice sounded. The amused glint in Thoma’s eyes almost made it worth it.

“Oh, but if you had helped me, then I wouldn’t have had the chance to surprise you with my moves!”

“Surprise me?” you chuckled, quirking an eyebrow. “Are you trying to impress me or something?”

“Of course.”

You fell out of step. Your fault. Thoma tugged you and easily picked up the rhythm again, letting you take the lead again immediately after. Without fanfare, just as his admission had been. As if it were something natural.

You rolled your eyes and looked away, trying to buy some time to reorder your thoughts. But Thoma pressed earnestly, “Is it working?”

The barracks in the distance were suddenly a fascinating sight. “Maybe.”

You could feel Thoma straighten his posture, and the self-satisfaction that came with it.

“It’s bad form not to look at your dancing partner, you know.”

“Don’t pretend you know anything about dancing etiquette,” you grumbled and reluctantly turned your head back towards Thoma.

His smile was still there, growing with each beat, tugging itself free. It made you want to follow the lead. To let the lines on your face loose, throw your voice up to the sky, hold onto that life tight, tight, like it was the only one you had.

It was messy, and more than once did you find yourselves going too fast. Thoma never pulled you back, never corrected you or struggled to catch up.  He followed as if he were not following at all, as if that rhythm was also his own, and you had both carved yourselves a dance only you could perform.

You did not hear the call for the fireworks at first, nor did you see that the crowd had begun dispersing. It took Thoma resisting your tug and moving his grip to your wrist. Whispering that there was something that he wanted to show you.

Instead of the hill, where most of the people had gathered, he took you down to a deserted spot at the beach. Invited you to sit down right before the sand took over the grass and stared ahead as the sea stretched towards Ritou. You did the same, and it did not take long until you heard the first explosions behind you. You craned your neck and watched as the first shower of reds and greens painted the sky. Other colors followed, exploding, raining, rushing past in unpredictable patterns. An icy blue butterfly spread its wings, and your smile widened imagining Ayaka’s reaction.

The view was not that good, though, and your neck started to protest. You were about to ask Thoma why he had chosen that place when he tugged your sleeve.

“Look.”

Another round of fireworks burst above the sea to the left of Ritou. Yellow exploded first, then red all around it, spinning around in petals you had become familiar with. Beside it, came the blue – deep at first, then lighter tones, and then yellow at the edges.

Pluie lotus.

Fingers brushed against your knuckles, featherlight. You swallowed and grabbed Thoma’s hand fully in yours before tearing your eyes away from the fireworks and towards a much more breathtaking sight.

That bright green staring back at you, soft and safe and full of life. The color of grass in spring, of peridots, of coffee drawings and comic books and wind chimes. Your favorite color.

Thoma’s throat bobbed and, for all that he had planned, he still did not move. Waited for you to meet him halfway, as he always had, giving you the control you had never been able to secure. Warmth seeped into your bones, deeper and deeper as your forehead touched his. You gave his hand a squeeze, asking him to say the words that were stuck in your throat. He understood.

“May I kiss you?”

You kissed him. Quickly pressed your lips against his, before Hirano could show up out of nowhere again, or your brain started functioning again. You kissed him like you needed it, because you did, and you were tired of pretending otherwise. Of pretending at all. And maybe Thoma needed it too, with how he smiled before he parted his lips, placing a hand behind your neck and pulling you closer.

The smell of windwheel asters invaded your senses, competing for attention with the warmth of Thoma’s touch. You had thrown yourself into the kiss by impulse, if not desperation, but you relaxed in his arms. Sighed as he started to caress your back, snickered when he nibbled your lip, welcomed him when he searched for your mouth again and again and again. You no longer heard the fireworks, heard nothing beyond the thrumming of a heart beating against your chest, just as loudly as yours. Again sharing a beat.

It was hard to tell how long it took for you to part. Time mattered little as your chest heaved, still trying to remember how to breathe. With your eyes open, you could see the flush in Thoma’s cheeks, the strands of hair that had fallen – or perhaps been pulled – out of his ponytail, framing his face and making his eyes shine even brighter. And you thought you had never seen anyone so beautiful.

“I…” Thoma started, as breathless as you felt. “I had been wanting to do that for a while.”

So had you. And you wanted more.

You cupped Thoma’s cheek, again determined to act when words failed you. He closed his eyes and nuzzled your palm. The familiar wave of warmth crept along your fingertips, and you already could feel your lips stretching into a dumbfounded smile. And then it stopped.

The cold crashed rather than flowed, overtaking all of your body at once. Your fingers stilled as your awareness returned little by little – the fireworks, the cheers, the beach. The trees.

“Hitomi? Are you alright?” Thoma’s voice was muffled, as if he were underwater. Or maybe you were.

So deep underwater that you did not notice the gleaming golden eyes behind the trees until they ran away.

Chapter Text

You were nine when you realized that death was not only going to be a constant in your life, but that you were also going to be the one dealing in it.

Baptiste didn’t deny it when you asked him. He only stared you down with that lopsided smile, prodding you to go on.

“I want to start with those guys that killed Papa and Oton.”

“Interested in revenge, ma pouce?”

You shrugged. It only seemed fair. For all the pain they had caused, they should get some in return. Wasn’t that the justice you were supposed to live by?

“That’s fair. Righteous anger. Hold onto that feeling. It will come in handy.”

It did, eventually. You were thirteen, and the smell of the Fleuve Cendre still stung your nostrils. Even more so with your head held underwater.

You did not struggle, knowing that would make the air end faster. Even so, it was hard to control your heartbeat, frantic and depleting the oxygen at a worrying rate. A misstep while trailing one of Baptiste’s debtors, it was all it had taken. A mistake you vowed not to repeat if only you could keep breathing.

The sound was muffled underwater, but you knew what it was when the grip on your head went slack. You whipped your head back, gasping for air. The scent of gunpowder hit you, as did Sylvain’s voice, yelling and berating you with words you would contest later. For now, another sound commanded your attention.

The man writhed on the ground, fillets of crimson cascading between the fingers gripping his arm. He stared at you, hovering above him, and made a pathetic attempt to spit in your direction. A dagger was out before he could finish. You expected to feel more resistance from the flesh, but it no different from how you had practiced. Another thing you were good at, just like Baptiste had predicted.

Too easy.

It could not end so quickly. Your throat still grated, the pain still too much. He should not have been able to go so quickly.

Your dagger came down once again, perforating his chest. There was no last spasm, no agonizing cries. You did it again. Again. Again. Watching the red spill onto your clothes, your face, until it obscured your entire vision. Waiting for the pain to lift, only for it to grow. Only stopping when Sylvain tackled you down.

Someone called out your name.

No, not your name, Hitomi’s name. The name you should answer to, but that was not the time. The one you were looking for wouldn’t be using that name, not that you could tell whose voice it was. Or if they had been calling you at all. The world was muffled, and all you could hear clearly were your own thoughts. It did not help that they were screaming.

Something blue moved by the corner of your eye. Your hand shot out without second thought, only to be answered by a shrill from the old man whose sleeve you had grabbed. You hastily mumbled something that may have been an apology, but the words did not stay in your mind for long. They were not important.

Your eyes shifted back and forth across faces, masks, trees. Sylvain could not have left the island. You would have seen him (would you?). There were not many lights illuminating the path back to Narukami, but, still, it would have been easy to spot a darker figure treading the sand (it would, wouldn’t it?). He could not have gone far. You had run after him immediately.

(Ha. Right.)

No, not immediately. You had said something to Thoma first. An excuse. You had said- no. You could deal with that later. You were in danger – Thoma was in danger unless you could find Sylvain. You would tell him that everything was going according to plan, that you were getting closer, getting them to trust you more. Even more, yes, because what you had before was clearly not enough.

Your body swayed, and it was only seconds later that you registered the impact against your shoulder. Your vision spun and continued to spin as you searched for the culprit, but it was a fruitless endeavor. Faces melted into one another, and yet you could feel more than a few shooting curious looks your way. You clenched your fists, alert for any sign of blue and gold, because that was all you needed to discern. Blue. Gold.

“If it was all part of the plan, why are you so anxious to catch me, marmotte?”

Because he needed to be let into the plan, naturally. So he would not do anything stupid.

“Like kill your puppy?”

Yes. No. No, that shouldn’t matter if your head were still in the mission. You could not afford to slip up. He would know no matter what you told him. You had to find him, you had to-

Someone grabbed your shoulder. In one graceful sweep, your dagger was out and pressed against the assailant’s throat. Yoimiya’s eyes widened.

You pulled the dagger back. The world became both quieter and louder at once asyou’re your mind blanked and hubbub of the festival slowly trickled into your ears. Sylvian was not there. Of course not. There were only amber eyes staring at you in horror.

You took a step back, but Yoimiya’s hands shot out and pinned you in place by the shoulders. They rose to your face, feeling your cheeks, your forehead, while her mouth moved. You blinked hard, trying to hear her.

“Hitomi. Hey. You don’t look good. What are you feeling?”

You raised your hands, trying to break free from hers. Time was still running, and you could not afford to waste it.

“Nothing. I need to go.”

“What? Wait, I’ll come with you.”

“No.”

Despite the harshness of your tone, Yoimiya did not flinch. Her fingers intertwined with yours before you could stop her.

“Hey. Breathe.”

“I am breathi-”

“Hitomi.”

You wished she would stop saying that name. That cursed name of a girl long dead who would never know how you had tainted it. But you needed to obey the call, and so you inhaled, held in the air for a couple of seconds, and breathed out through your mouth. It did not help, not that you had any expectations otherwise.

“Come on. I’ve already told Ayaka you were not feeling well.”

Ayaka. Archons, what if she had seen you? What if Sylvain had gotten to her? No, he wouldn’t, that was not part of the plan. Kissing Thoma had not been part of the plan either. There was no plan anymore, and no telling what he could do. You needed to find him.

Dirt and sand blurred together with each step. Though your head whipped in every direction, looking for any hint of your target, you could barely make out your surroundings. The distant hum of the waves, the lights fading and coming to life again, the sounds from below that shifted from a rustle to a steady tap. You registered each change without making sense of it.

It was only when the pressure on your wrist faded that you realized it had been there at all, tugging you along. The silence of the city crashed around you, interrupted only by the soft clicks as Yoimiya opened the door to her house. Your knees bent, prepared to bolt, but an invisible weight kept you in place. It only lifted when Yoimiya took your wrist again, pulling you into the house.

“Dad’s a heavy sleeper, as you can imagine, so don’t worry about him. I can make some tea, let’s see what I have… Uh- no, Hitomi, wait!”

She grabbed you again before you reached the door. It was difficult to tell which of you was more startled.