Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

She didn’t visit Watatsumi Island often.

A place blessed not by the fertility of its soil but the stunning landscape – pearls, seashells platforms, bubbles floating aimlessly, and the sprawling view of serene waterfalls in a hollowed-out cavern directly beneath the center of the isle – forcing it to rely on trade from Inazuma City. It was known for a vacation spot, even during the civil war; residents would occasionally drift here for a brief moment of respite among those planning to join the resistance and their efforts. Now, it had returned to its peaceful state, open to visitors anywhere, but she hadn’t returned to enjoy the peace of children running about without a care, or villagers and soldiers playing TCG or taking strolls across the usual routes.

A house stood in the distance, near the village outskirts, overlooking one side of the island where the sunset was particularly beautiful, at the end of a row of buildings. This one wasn’t occupied, hadn’t been for awhile and was likely to stay that way until someone decided to enter, but she hoped they wouldn’t – she hoped it stayed like this, untouched, still, forlorn by the sands of time, sacred and honoured to the person who’d been here once, two years ago.

She paused outside the entrance as she always did, moonlight and gold dusted boots coming to a slow, graceful stop, just for several seconds. A basket swayed in her hand, before she finally took a step forward, sole eliciting a familiar creak on worn, weathered wood.

You were annoying.

Another step, followed by another, and she was on the front porch, facing the door that stood slightly ajar. He liked the wind, that much was obvious; he could never be still for long, not even in the tranquility of his house.

I’m sorry, but that was my first thought of you.

She knelt down, folding her legs beneath her skirt neatly, perching on the top most step. The basket was placed beside her, gloved hands reaching in to gently peel aside some cloth, then remove a bottle of sake, the first one she could find at the market.

You were almost killed when we first met on the beach, confronted by so many samurai…

A ochoko was revealed as she pulled another layer back. It joined the bottle on the hardwood panelled floor.

…yet you still put up a brave front, holding your spear high.

She carefully uncapped the sake, letting some flow with a practiced hand into the cup, slow, steady, though her thoughts were anything but.

You bothered me endlessly afterward.

It was half full when she was done. She set the bottle back down, careful fingers reaching under the cup to lift it to her lips.

You were ambitious, saying you wanted to be like me, that you’d catch up to me one day.

A sip.

I didn’t want you to.

It burned, sweet giving way to a bitter tang.

You should never have tried.

She swallowed, instinctive, obligatory.

No one should ever learn from me.

Gold eyes fluttered half closed, gazing at the smooth reflection of herself in the sake surface, a blank, unrecognisable version glancing back at her, a figure she couldn’t recognise in years – she heard you learnt to live with yourself, but she couldn’t when she had lost who she was ages ago.

You were brave, but also foolish.

Her focus wavered, flickering back to the house.

The Divine Priestess only made you captain because you were so insistent. She gave you a whole faction of recruits, too.

A breeze wafted through it to toy with the ends of her sun-kissed locks, carrying with it the faintest scent of aqua flowers, a favourite of hers.

Your dream… your only dream… was to wear matching uniforms.

She drew a deep, quiet breath, extending her arm slowly.

I found it stupid at the time.

Her wrist tilted. The sake followed.

But you had them made.

It hit the ground with a sound that was too quiet and too loud all at once, her hand guiding it to spill all over the front mat.

And they weren’t bad.

She didn’t stop, not until all of it was gone.

I… I should have been faster.

The ochoko was drawn back to her chest, resting lightly against the light beat of her vital organ.

You didn’t listen to me when I told you to rest.

Her grip tightened, the aftertaste lingering on her tongue, a bubble that had burst long ago, but she could still feel the remnants of.

I should have noticed it sooner… the delusion.

She placed the cup on the floor, her empty hand falling back against her side.

Only one person has been known to survive it, but you’re not him.

She reached into the basket again, fingers trembling somewhat.

I don’t doubt you. Not anymore.

They brushed against an envelope, a letter.

You’re brave. You have always been.

She drew it out, alongside a cecilia she brought from Mondstadt, plucked from the windy hills of Starsnatch Cliff.

I’m the one who’s scared.

She stood and turned to face the door.

I’m the one who can’t move forward.

One step, followed by another.

All you wanted… was a picture together.

She placed a hand on the door.

All I’m left… is the one of you dying in front of me.

It opened without much hassle, much like him, who would have welcomed her with no hesitation.

I would have made an excuse that I don’t have a camera.

Strange or not, she couldn’t picture him living here, the life in the aftermath of the war.

You would have made another excuse to borrow one from your soldiers.

He wouldn’t have liked it. It was too quiet. He would have been in the thick of it, chatting with residents, guiding tourists around, handing out supplies. He would never return home until the moon was high and exhaustion had settled into his weary bones.

I would have said my travel clothes are too precious.

A fresh bouquet of flowers stood in the center of a low table. The Divine Priestess must have visited awhile ago.

You would have begged me to change.

She kept walking, kneeling only at a low window nearby. An empty photo frame stood on its ledge.

I still have it… the uniform.

The envelope went on one side, the letter she wrote tucked safely within, the cecelia on the other.

I haven’t worn it. Not yet.

She placed her palms together, closing her eyes in the same languid manner.

Not until you wear it too.

The archons didn’t hear prayers. They only heard and granted wishes. This… was a bit of both.

Then… we’ll take a picture together.

She bowed her head, finally, finally, letting a tear cascade down her cheek.

Rest, brave soldier. You’ve done well.

Chapter Text

Tsurumi Island was even more abandoned than she remembered.

She made her way past the sprawling landscape no longer shrouded by thick, suffocating fog, footfalls soft against lush, damp grass. The absolute lack of civilisation didn’t bother her; she preferred it this way, no one to ask questions, no useless idle chatter, no one who would bother or stop her from her task ahead. She cherished the quiet, her own thoughts swirling yet silent all at once, never getting a moments’ peace since she first awoke on this world – everything moved too much, colour and sound mixed and hummed in a manner that was disconcerting, the sky was always too crowded or too empty with the blazing sun and ever-full moon.

The sacred tree stood tall, full of life, a sight none of the previous inhabitants ever got the privilege to behold; their sheer stupidity in taking the life of an innocent child thinking it would satisfy the wrath of an ancient deity spoke for itself. They weren’t worthy, didn’t even come close to seeing this place in its full glory, and this time, she helped not entirely out of pitiful obligation, but because she sensed inherently that something was very, very wrong with this place, the deity, and the people. 

I knew you were dead the moment we met.

She watched, an occasional amethyst feather fluttering down from its perch on the branches, carried on a gentle breeze that seemed to extend all the way from the land of freedom to this remote corner of the world.

It was just… a hunch, a feeling, one that I’ve seen in my own eyes for too long.

She stayed there, if only for a bit, listening to the soft rustle of wind through the tree, watching naku weeds pulse with remnants of power from the deity that had once graced this isle. They weren’t as beautiful as the feathers, but they made for a breathtaking sight overall.

You were kind, still, unnecessarily so, to those who didn’t deserve you.

One more step forward, followed by another. The weeds and feathers faced her in silent welcome.

You insisted on helping them, even though they were the ones who took your life.

She paused a respectful distance from the tree’s base, her mind refusing to let her take another step, lest she cross the space he last stood.

I know how you feel.

She stared at the spot, memories almost willing him to appear here again.

I feel that way every day.

He’d smile at her, a child’s youthful innocence, the concept of death and the fear that came with it foreign even to someone who’s been through it multiple times unknowingly, undeservedly.

I don’t know how much help I have left to give, but for you… I’d do it again.

She didn’t think she’d be scared either, should her own time ever arrive. It wouldn’t be too different from how she felt now; purposeless, drifting, disconnected from the one who had once made her feel truly alive.

You were a child.

Fingers reaching for her belt, she removed a stray item she collected on her journeys, a trinket someone had insisted she take with her.

You had your whole life ahead of you.

It was smooth, made of sango pearls and white wood, made by an expert craftsman and travelling musician she met on the road. She rarely used it, hardly had any reason to; she liked the quiet, the crackling of firewood, grass rustling, and the sound of waves in the distant background enough of a peaceful melody to lure her to a dreamless sleep, but now she had to.

You loved music, and a bird.

She turned it over in her hands. She had been told it was fragile, yet sturdy. A reminder of herself.

That’s all I ever knew about you.

Slowly, carefully, she lifted it to her lips.

I can’t say we met if you were never really here.

The first note rang out, soft, soothing, clear.

A ghost of you… is worse than none of you.

She could hear it in her head, she memorised the tune after hearing it only once. Music was second nature to her, not that anyone knew, should she ever tell them – one of the few constants among the galaxies she’d visited.

Because I know you’re not really there.

Her fingertips moved to cover and open the holes, the melody echoing in this small cave, the sacred tree, its feathers and naku weeds her only audience.

It was you… but it wasn’t.

She played it slow, following the rhythm he had sung it in, the flute a willing, obedient instrument under her ministrations.

I know someone else like that, and he’s gone too… almost.

The melody ended, incomplete, on the second note of the base key, but that was the original, how he had composed it, and it wouldn’t change; the best, most fitting way to honour the departed.

I wish there was hope to bring you back.

The flute left her lips, silence filling the space once more.

But this is all I can do.

She tucked it back at her side, removing an envelope with a letter stored safely within and a cecilia from her belt.

Remember you… even if it hurts.

They were placed at the roots of the sacred tree, resting among the feathers.

Because you’re still smiling in my memories.

She knelt, placing her hands together. A silent prayer offered, a wish not granted.

Keep smiling… and fly free, like a bird.

Chapter Text

“Heh heh… you’ve gotten stronger.”

She pushed herself off the ground slowly, brushing off stray water droplets clinging stubbornly to her precious travel clothes, careful not to rustle the luminous fabric too much. Her face remained impassive, brows furrowed slightly, lips parting to draw in a deep, inaudible breath before lightly pursing, stilling the adrenaline-fuelled thrum of her heart during the duel’s calm aftermath.

Childe observed her closely, but she didn’t care; his opinion was another one in the meaningless million, an unneeded concern from a power-hungry, battle-starved Harbinger. His only utility was in the combat he provided, an outlet for a fraction of her pent-up frustrations, though she didn’t fight him often anymore, to his disappointment (he made a point to challenge her every time she’d finish her journey in a new nation. Fontaine was the most recent one, and she was certain Hydro would be extremely useful against someone who could summon a whale; still, his smile traipsed on her nerves, making her agree if only to wipe it off his face.)

“What, no comment? I haven’t seen you in months, maybe years. You haven’t changed, huh?”

“Neither have you,” she flicked the last few drops off, promising herself to use anemo later.

“You don’t mean my skills, do you, girlie?”

“Take it however you want,” she turned sharply on her heel. “I’m leaving.”

“Hey! You can’t just–“

She glared over her shoulder. Childe stumbled in place.

“Okay, okay. But next time, I won’t go easy on you.”

You say that, yet you always lose.

***

“Director Hu Tao.”

“Well well, who do we have here? If it isn’t my favourite client! Hm? Where’s your little pixie companion? Out of commission for today? Did Xiangling sneak her too many of those spicy buns?”

Her eyes closed by half, flattening her stare.

“Alright, jeez. What brings you here today? I heard you went to Fontaine. Got any new business partners for me? Or even associates?”

Hu Tao didn’t know how close to home that hit. Poisson wouldn’t have appreciated it either. Funeral parlours and their businesses; it was a delicate matter.

“About the border between life and death…”

Hu Tao sobered a bit then, straightening her posture with her hands clasped behind her back. “Oh, that? I told you, it’s nothing special. Just a place where the farewell ceremony site is. Why? Do you wanna go back and visit?”

“Is it only limited… to people from Liyue?”

The director blinked, stilling the swing in her step for a moment. “Hmm… from what I’ve seen, since the Wangsheng Funeral Parlour was established here, I often find a lot of souls from Liyue, but it should welcome anyone.”

She blinked, slow, deliberate.

“If you’re curious about a lost soul, I could take you there to check–“

“No,” she shook her head, letting her eyes wander, far out to the bustling harbour streets. They focused, unfocused, before she brought them back to Hu Tao’s plum blossom pupils. “Thank you.”

There’s no point… they’re already gone.

“Anytime! And hey! While you’re here, we have a two-for-one special. Coffins, service; everything in one package. Know anyone you can recommend?”

The Traveler stared on with a blank, distant gaze. 

Me.

“…no.”

Just maybe… me.