Chapter Text
There must be something that held power above the archons. A god among gods, perhaps. This god, if there was one, was unbelievably cruel. (Later he learns of Celestia. The Heavenly Principles who were responsible for all of Teyvat; yet, explicitly absent.)
Gender, already, was a pretty bullshit concept. But, the existence of a secondary gender… Now, that was considerably awful. No wonder his creator thought she was above such a thing.
Kunikuzushi thinks about this during his first heat. Sure, he was divinely created. Sure, he had the power to become a god. Regardless, he realises that he was cast aside because of his secondary gender. This isn’t the first time he’s cursed his creator, and he has a feeling it won’t be the last. But as he watches the slick go down his legs in the middle of fucking nowhere, he really wishes he was never created. More precisely, maybe it would’ve been better if he had never woken up, or been given consciousness.
☆
It’s been about a month since he’s awoken, Kunikuzushi recalls. Dark, and alone, but at least he was clothed. It took about a day to understand the… unfortunate predicament he was in. Kunikuzushi doesn’t take long to realise he was a failed product. Why he was left alive, though, was still a mystery to him. He can remember Ei, her less-than-ethical creation methods, the name he was given, and he understands that he was only an imitation of something human. Though—apart from that—learning about the place he awoke at had been a great hassle.
Teyvat.
Specifically, he was in Inazuma. It didn’t take long for him to associate Ei with a face; her statues were frequent. Her worshippers? Even more so. The place was crawling with them, but whether they were worshipping out of fear or out of respect, he wasn’t sure. The few times he catches his reflection in a lake or a river, he sees how much he looks like her. Or, well, probably what she would look like if he saw her in the flesh. His face was fair, and he wasn’t built to be strong nor sturdy, at least not in appearance. He wasn’t a girl, but he knew with the right clothes he could pass as one. Whatever. Kunikuzushi didn’t ask for this body, but he’d make use of it.
Language almost came naturally. Keyword; almost. It was a struggle at first, as though his mouth was stitched together with invisible string, his larynx never meant to have been used. Kunikuzushi got over it rather quickly though, much to his own surprise.
Soon after that, the townspeople told him much of the information he required. People, regardless of their primary gender, later presented as either an alpha, beta, or an omega. Most people in Teyvat were betas, alphas and omegas being a rare presentation. Archons, on the other hand, were born without gender. They could choose a vessel or an appearance that could resemble a primary gender, but being exempt from a secondary gender was a right given to the gods.
Fuck, he hates Ei.
☆
Anyways. Flashback over. He still has to deal with the thing between his legs and. Wow this sucked. First it was just the slick, but soon it morphed into an erection that would not go down. Then, his entire body was filled with imminent, dizzying heat. Next was the headache; incoherent sounds that reverberated in his skull.
But the worst was yet to come. If only the symptoms stopped there.
Kunikuzushi is in the middle of some forest on the outskirts of an island. There isn't anyone but animals for miles, and the quiet chirping of far away birds began to piss him off.
He laid back against a tree, ignoring how his clothes were soaked through with slick, ignoring how the ground felt horrible against his skin. This sucked. This really sucked. Even as his breath becomes heavy, and his vision blurs, he isn't given the gift of sleep. Instead, his insides tighten up around nothing and complain. Want something inside. Want something hard and thick and—
An alpha. He wanted a stupid alpha's shitty cock to knot him.
Humiliation washed over him as he thought about it. Even as he hiked up the hem of his robes (they were purple, how fitting), and stared at the mess he had made, he still refused to touch himself. Today Kunikuzushi learnt he was stubborn. He wanted to defy his existence, wanted to prove he was more than the hormones his body produced.
Yet, he began to fail. His insides were screaming, churning, begging for some sort of release. They continued to leak that stupidly sticky fluid, as he continued to clench around nothing. The pain was overwhelming. Excruciatingly so. Against his will, one of his hands reached his entrance. A digit pressed inside with ease, and he bit his bottom lip to stop a sound. Fuck. His insides were so damn tight and they only continued to plead for more. Another digit. And another entered. He rolled his joints against a certain spot and shuddered. This still wasn't enough. His hands weren't enough. Even if he put his entire damn hand in there he knew he wouldn't be satisfied.
At that thought, the heat subsided slightly, and he drew his hand out with mild disgust. Fuck this. Fuck secondary genders. Fuck Ei. Kunikuzushi isn't putting up with this shit anymore.
He turns to face the tree he had been using as a backrest. He isn't sane for this, he's aware of that. But at the moment, he sort of, kind of, totally doesn't care.
Kunikuzushi hits his head against the tree as hard as he can, and passes out.
☆
When he wakes up, he learns his body can heal itself. Apart from the throbbing between his thighs, his head is still intact and nothing else particularly hurts. He remembers feeling blood right before he was knocked unconscious, but when he checks, the blood is dried and the crack it came from had sewn itself back together. He doesn't know how long he's been out, but thankfully, he's been left alone.
The only problem was that he was still in heat and even if he tried, he wouldn't be able to stand right now.
Kunikuzushi feels his legs tremble just from moving slightly. He can still feel his body complain at him; everything sore and sweaty. The only positive was that his temperature had returned back to normal, all that was left was the dull ache of want between his legs.
He really began to hate this body.
For the next few hours, he simply didn't move. He sweated it out until his body grew tired enough and finally, finally, stopped producing slick. It hadn't been all that long in the scheme of things, but his first heat felt like the hell of eternity.
Even when he was finally able to stand, his legs were barely able to keep him upright, shaking at every move he made. Kunikuzushi was lucky enough to find a nearby lake, where he washed off the dried fluids between his legs and kicked an angry wave to no one in particular.
As he sat down to dry off, he realises he doesn't want a repeat of this incident to happen again. And if his information was correct, a heat happened every few months, meaning he had time to look for ways to get it to stop.
So, that was the plan. Ideally, he would just stop having heats forever, but he knew this was unlikely and improbable. He'd settle for the next best option, then. Finding someone to help him out who he had complete control over. Yeah, that'd be good.
☆
Things did not go to plan.
As he was exploring one of the towns in Inazuma, someone had hit him over the head, gagged him until he passed out, and now he was tied to a bed in some unknown room. This was a problem. A big problem.
There's another person in the room, Kunikuzushi notices, who seems to be absentmindedly staring out the window. They haven't noticed he's awake, which meant this was his opportunity to figure out where he was.
He tries to look around as much as he can, but as he tilts his head, he feels something against his neck. Kunikuzushi senses his skin prickle in horror, as he realises there's a fucking collar around his neck. It was attached to the rest of his restraints, too, meaning he was immobilised completely.
Fine. So be it.
Instead his eyes wander from the ceiling to his body (oh hey, new clothes), to the mattress, to the parts of the walls he can see. Carefully assessing the situation, he thinks he can put together what happened.
Kunikuzishi was warned about this kind of situation a while ago, by one of the beta store owners he talked to. There was a rumor about omega trafficking, with a rise in that side of the industry in Inazuma due to the influence of a foreign country. Of course, he didn't expect to be caught and swept up in that kind of thing—he was pretty sure he had passed as a beta everywhere.
One vital fact he didn't know about the secondary gender, however, was the smell that everyone produced. Kunikuzushi just thought it was the country, the environment, the food being sold at stalls. Nothing more, and nothing less. Unfortunately, he was completely wrong.
His heat was soon, and someone had smelt it radiating off him. If Kunikuzushi were to guess, it would be the person who was still staring absentmindedly at the window in the room. A tacky floral shirt that was tucked into their especially gaudy pants, and hair clips that lined the back of their bun.
They finally turned around, and looked at him. Their eyes assessed his body, his face, and with a small smile they began to speak.
"You're in for a time of your life, buddy."
☆
Here he learnt that alphas and omegas had to cover their necks, or risk being 'mated,' by another person. Kunikuzushi also learnt that although nothing in the current world could remove the heat from his body, there were, in fact, contraceptives.
The person gives him a rundown of how the building—the company he was now part of—worked. For the first few days, he wasn't allowed to leave his room, but he'd be fed and cleaned and… ew, trained. After that, he wouldn't be allowed to leave the building but he was mostly free to explore unless they had customers.
But after the small talk, there was a timely knock of the door, and a disgusting smell filled the room. If he were to guess correctly, this would be… his first customer.
Throughout the entire talk, Kunikuzushi had remained quiet, and unmoving. He looked at the person explaining with no expression in particular, but now he felt panic run up his spine.
Still, he didn't let it show.
As the door opened, the floral-shirt left the room with a short exchange to the customer, and now he could smell this guy's horrible scent up close.
There was nothing that stood out about this person apart from their smell. Kunikuzushi quickly realised that he, himself, was also producing some sort of disgustingly sweet scent to lure in anyone to… take him. Fuck. Fuck!
He began to struggle against his bindings as the person got closer towards him, but to no avail. Worst still, he could feel the slick begin to travel down his legs.
In his own muffled horror, the customer had already taken out their own erection, but at least it was covered in a thin sheet of plastic. Kunikuzushi was really starting to count his blessings here. But, before he could even strike up a complaint, the thing had lined up at his gaping entrance and was thrust inside without warning.
Kunikuzushi bit his bottom lip so hard he felt blood trickle down his chin. It wasn't painful. It wasn't painful. This didn't hurt. He continued to repeat to himself on and on and on as the intrusion forced its way inside him over and over.
And yeah, physically, it didn't hurt. The stupid slick he was producing had really come in useful. Great. Now what? The customer was breathing heavily down his neck, biting down at the collar that was keeping him in a fixed position. Their hands travelled down his skin, slowly undressing him as if he was something delicate. He shuddered against the contact, and still refused to speak.
Those same symptoms from a few months ago arose, the loathsome warmth that danced on his skin, the sweat, the pain in his head. Yet, somehow, it was all dulled as the want between his legs had been fulfilled.
He tried not to laugh at that thought.
The customer began to move, thrusting into him at a slow yet steady pace. It was uncomfortable. It felt horrible in every way but physically. Even as his mind rejected the person above him, his insides clenched happily around the stiffness of a worthless cock. In fact, he only just got tighter as he felt the pleasure crawl up his skin without warning, as though he could feel the erection all the way at the back of his mouth. Only now he realised the obscene bump that the head of the dick was making inside him, at the base of his stomach, which twitched at every move he made.
This was horrible.
This was worse than his first heat.
He hated the feeling of helplessness. How he couldn't do anything to fight back, how he could only hold back his screams and dig his nails into his palms. Kunikuzushi was so tired of this.
But his body betrayed him. It kept producing more and more slick, getting slippier, further welcoming the unwelcome. All his instincts told him to just give in and accept the pleasure and just to fucking take it. After all, his secondary gender decided he was just a bitch in a heat who craved something to fill him up.
How vile.
Kunikuzushi continued to squirm against the body on top of him, occasionally letting out sharp breaths and weak whines to move faster. The bindings were uncomfortable. His clothes were uncomfortable. As the sane part of his preheat mind began to slip away, he could feel his body come undone at the slightest movement and pleasure wrecking every surface of him. He couldn't think. His head was only filled with half-thoughts of pure desire to be taken .
Fuck, he hated this. He really hated this. He hated how his body, his 'natural instincts' went against him. Almost as if it was a punishment for some crime he had never even committed. He was just so angry, so bitter at his creator. Even if Ei had made him a beta, he can't imagine his existence to be any better. Not with this face and body anyway.
After all, he was just a doll that came to life.
The customer didn't stop pounding into him, smiling at the sounds they dragged out of him while he whined and begged for more. Still, no verbal response from the customer. Their eyes just glazed downwards and watched him, Kunikuzushi, squirm against the hardness of their cock.
It was absolutely unbearable. Even as they came to their own release, Kunikuzushi did not. The customer simply pulled out and discarded the plastic into a bin, and left. He was alone in the room for some time, feeling the dull ache of his heat rush through him again. His insides were begging for the return of a dick. For fucking anything .
But no relief ever came.
☆
Eventually he was released from his bindings, when the owners of the building deemed him no longer a threat. The only thing that remained would be the collar around his neck, exemplifying his status, his secondary gender. It covered one of the most important parts of him, his nape ; as when it was left exposed he was vulnerable to being bitten. To be taken as someone's mate or something. It didn't sound that great.
Kunikuzushi eventually met with his co-workers, who spared him pitying glances and kind words but ultimately only cared for themselves. They were all in this together, stuck within the confines of omega trafficking, yet they were distant from each other. He learnt from one of the girls that they were only ever up for sale when they went into heat, as it was too difficult to coerce all of them into wanting it all the time. Although they definitely could do that, the money that customers paid specifically for an omega's heat outnumbered regular sex that could be bought anywhere.
There was also no escape from the building. One of the overseers was a catalyst user who had made the collars herself; and adjusted them with mystical properties that physically stopped their products from leaving. Many have tried to escape, only to be brought back and 'trained' into place again.
In some ways, the building and its workers were merciful. It accommodated for an omega's heat even without customers, leaving the unbought ones with boxes of… relief, he'll call it. They were given food, water, and occasionally they were allowed their own belongings. That would be the end of the positives about the place, though.
Kunikuzushi began to track his heat cycles, and memorise every face that entered his room. He began to formulate a plan for escape, and to bring down this entire business with him. There was one thing the building failed to notice about him.
Out of pity—or perhaps negligence—Ei had left his powers unchecked.
☆
All his time spent since the start of his plans was solely on gathering information. Be it through his clients, his co-workers, the owners of the building itself, or even the few scattered documents sometimes left behind. He puts together rather quickly where he is roughly, and learns about the currencies of the world.
Next, he learns a few other things about himself. One, he cannot die. He's tried using his power during a bath, in hopes of eliciting a quick death after a particularly bad customer. But instead, his body just brought his pieces back together and he was awake again in the next few hours. Two, even if he wasn't built for fighting, he could still put up quite a struggle when he felt like it. One of the customers had been a bit too rough with him, which ended in him roughing them up a decent amount before they caved and simply left. Three. He had the capacity to feel pity for those around him.
The third was the most worrying out of them all. Perhaps it was because he could sympathise with hating his secondary gender. Perhaps it was because they agreed to loathe the Archons and the Heavenly Principles for their suffering. He understood that all too well. The desire to go against the divine, the overwhelming urge to defy their mortal bodies and finally become free.
Sometimes he thinks about how maybe it would've been better if he was never given the ability to feel things. Perhaps that would make living easier. Perhaps then he would be content no matter where he ended up in the world.
Alas. The Archons were cruel.
☆
Another thing Kunikuzushi notices would be the masked customers that occasionally ask for him. And whenever they did, the higher ups of the building would warn him to not fuck up.
He later learns that these people were part of a Snezhnayan organisation known as the 'Fatui,' who served directly under the Cryo Archon. Whenever these 'Fatui' came to visit, he has a feeling they can sense something off about him. Even when he's scrambling underneath them, begging for a release, they liked to stare at him behind their masks as if analysing his body. Like they were trying to figure him out rather than just seeing him as another omega in this industry. It was weird.
That wasn't the worst of it, though.
One day a particularly wealthy customer offers to buy him as a mate. An absurd amount of mora was offered, and the customer was given the key for one of the only things this place was good for.
Strangely, the customer doesn't unlock the collar at first. They pretend to not even be in possession of such a thing, playing innocent, wanting to hold it for the end. The finale.
Instead there was a lot of biting around Kunikuzushi's neck, his chest, his thighs—every surface of his skin that was delicate, tasted as if he were a delicacy. His heart pounded against his ribcage, having been drugged to the point he couldn't move yet still experiencing the unpleasant onset of his goddamn heat.
Arousal leaked from between his legs, his body begging to be pierced open by the person above him. All they had done up till this point was manhandle him and make him bleed.
A digit entered, and Kunikuzushi groaned against it, his mouth opening to gasp for air. Another finger introduced itself inside, scissoring his sloppy entrance wide and bare. He had given up biting down his sounds long ago, and gave in to the pleasure that pulsed through his veins. Whatever wanton noises he was making were definitely egging the customer on, as they had aligned their cock at his opening, and thrust the entire thing in without warning.
"Fuck!" Kunikuzushi gripped the sheets under him, trying to accomodate to the size. Despite having been broken open so many times, his body still refused to loosen up. He didn't know if that was a good thing or not. But, as he squeezed around the dick inside him, breathing heavily—he decided it was not.
The customer had only watched him with interest, watching how his expressions changed and how his hips rolled against them. He was desperate for friction after such a sudden intrusion; yet, the person above him refused to move. Pathetically, Kunikuzushi moved alone, dragging himself up and down and shifting against the erection inside him almost painfully. It wasn't enough. Of course it wasn't.
"Please," he began to beg, tears welling in his eyes.
Heat was still dancing on his skin, his features glossy from sweat. The throbbing pain—from the drugs or the heat itself—in his head continued to blur his vision, until all he could do was blink pitifully at the person above him, eyes clouded with lust.
Suddenly, hands moved to his waist, and he was hoisted up on the other's lap.
That was when it began.
This particular customer had no end of stamina, no end to their cum. Worst of all, Kunikuzushi realises rather late that they were an alpha and there was a goddamn knot inside him.
He doesn't know how to respond to it. His entire body shakes at every hard, relentless thrust, and he screams against their chest. Even when Kunikuzushi thinks surely this is the last of it , it never is. It's never the fucking last of it. Yet his body responds in kind, continuing to clench around their length and squeeze out every last bit of shitty white gunk until it's all inside him. He thanks his past self in a half-daze for taking birth control this morning.
Although the majority of it was over, the knot inside him kept him seated on it, unable to move. And this was when the customer took out the key and began to unlock his collar.
Bad idea.
Kunikuzushi had mostly regained his senses, and he knew what was coming. This was it. He couldn't take any more than this. He didn't want to be mated, to be married off, as the mortals called it. He wasn't something just for others to control.
Lightning struck and the person above him had been reduced to ashes. Unfortunately, the rest of the building caught fire, too.
For the first time in his whole existence, Kunikuzushi smiled.
☆
The entire building goes down in flames. Most of its residents don't survive, Kunikuzushi makes sure of it. The few that do survive are some of his fellow omegas, who looked at him cautiously while surveying the ashes, but thanked him nonetheless.
He isn't particularly close to any of them, nor does he feel all that sentimental about the place he's been at for the past few years. In the end, he just stretches his legs and goes on a journey.
☆
Kunikuzushi ends up in Liyue Harbour. It's a bustling and wondrous city, filled with bright lights with its age-old culture written in its walls. It's a nice change of pace from the scenery of Inazuma.
The stores and streets are welcoming, open to everyone from anywhere. The people are friendly, the city alive with laughter. Which is why Kunikuzushi decides to stay for a bit, to watch this side of the world he's never been part of. He's stolen enough mora to buy a small unit close to the city, but not inside it. This is where he spends most of his days.
It turns out that he doesn't need to eat or sleep to live. Of course, this was due to him being neither god nor mortal, simply a bag of well-curated flesh that resembled a person. His life is boring and quiet for the most part, as he spends most of it not in complete isolation, yet he watches the store owners and citizens age around him. Kunikuzushi's own body continues to be eternally youthful, his figure never changing.
Some of the locals jokingly call him the 'vagrant of Inazuma,' poking slight fun at his runaway status. He laughs with them, to not draw suspicion. If only they knew.
☆
"A duel?"
One day he's approached by a man with cream-coloured hair. He doesn't look that old; if Kunikuzushi were to guess, maybe nearing the end of his teens. The stranger nods at him, eyes delighting themselves in a smile.
"Vagrant of Inazuma, they call you. I've been wanting to spar with someone from my homeland for a while." Cream ties up his hair as he speaks, and adjusts the sword at his belt. "Our sword style is rather unique, after all."
Kunikuzushi nods like he knows what Cream is on about.
Although he's spent his time in Liyue aimlessly, he has bought a few weapons out of pure curiosity. And while he's experimented using them, he actually has never needed to use them against another person. The unchecked power that Ei had given him was much more than enough for that.
Regardless, he takes up a wooden sword, and points it at Cream, moving robotically. Almost like he's done this before, almost like he's been built for it.
Oh. Ei wields a sword.
With a smile, the cream-haired-ponytail comes towards him, without much warning. Kunikuzushi can deflect most of it. He can suddenly move like the lightning he strikes, swifter than any other.
It's a short spar. He's bested by the stranger, to no one's surprise. His body has never been in a sword fight before, after all. But his blood curls like it never had before; arousal of a different kind running through his veins. Even as he lays defeated on the ground with the stranger looking down on him, extending a hand, he doesn't feel like he's lost.
☆
Cream stays for a bit. Kunikuzushi doesn't bother asking for a name, but he enjoys sparring with the other. His mundane, immortal life suddenly becomes a bit more interesting, broken into sections of training, sleeping, and sparring. It's a lot more than he could ever hope for.
But then his heat comes and he tells Cream to leave for the next week.
His freeloader complies, likely sensing why. Kunikuzushi doesn't know why Cream takes off without any hesitance or a fight, but he's thankful for it.
In his time alone, he digs through a box and finds a specific article of clothing—a collar, one he bought himself. At first glance, it doesn't look like one, nor does it seem like something befitting for a secondary gender. But with closer inspection, one may notice that the fabric is sturdy and thick, unable to be bitten off or otherwise.
The tightness around his neck is uncomfortable, but he brushes the thought away at the reasoning of, "This is a safety measure."
And then he closes the windows, locks the doors, and stocks up on ingredients for meals that were easy to make. Right on time, too, as he lays on his futon he can feel the slick start to slither down between his thighs.
Instead of fighting against it, Kunikuzushi closes his eyes.
☆
A week passes and Cream returns, with a smile and gifts from the locals. Their carefree days of sparring and eating together last a little while longer, but eventually, the other man decides to leave. Kunikuzushi doesn't stop him, and simply waves back with a smile.
Well, Kunikuzushi thinks to himself, it was fun while it lasted.
Over that time he had gotten much better at wielding various types of weapons, from polearms to daggers to claymores to bows. Still, he preferred the catalyst, occasionally switching it out for a plain sword.
Like that, he retires from the mundane life on the outskirts of a city, packs his belongings, and leaves.
☆
On his way to Mondstadt, he runs into a particularly troublesome sort of company. He's met these types before; the 'Fatui,' they call themselves. Whilst he remembers some of them from long ago, he can only recall their masked faces and their Snezhnayan tongue. Kunikuzushi doesn't actually know what the Fatui did; nor did he really care. That is, until this moment exactly. He's out of their peripherals, watching their campsite in the middle of nowhere. They seem to be trying to create something. From his time in Liyue, he realises partly what these people were trying to do. They were trying to create a certain traditional—he could even call it religious—item, carved from gemstones and the like.
But it was from synthesis of illegal methods, not the way he had seen it back in the harbour. This couldn't be listed as alchemy, nor the work of a catalyst. In Kunikuzushi's eyes, this was an experiment.
And it wasn't an ethical one, that's for sure.
It seemed like this particular group of Fatui were harvesting any living, moving organism that came near them. He could see the cages filled with livestock; all of which were nearby the main 'experiment' area. Out of all the members in this specific site, there were two that stood out particularly well against the sordid grey uniforms. One of them was dressed in a jarring tuxedo, a complete disaster of fashion, with colours that clashed and appendages that did not belong on a human body. The other was more boringly fitted, dressed like a common travelling bard Kunikuzushi had seen many times before.
These two in particular stood out, and not in a good way. Kunikuzushi decided to watch closely, curious as to what the few were doing.
"Doctor," the Bard said, flinging an eyeball carelessly in the Doctor's direction, "we don't need any more samples. I'm getting bored."
The Doctor made an annoyed tsk, catching the eyeball without bothering to look up at the Bard. Kunikuzushi could only see the back of his unruly head; blue curls that looked like they hadn't been brushed in years. Disgusting.
"Go play with the locals then, Bard. You're more than enough of a nuisance in my work."
They didn't seem to be on good terms, he notes mentally, watching as the Bard rolled their eyes and walked away from the resources. But then, as the masked Bard turned to leave, they shifted their head in Kunikuzushi's direction.
Shit.
He could feel his heart pound out of his chest while watching them, anticipation and fear laced together in one, ugly bundle. As much as he wanted to, he couldn't urge himself to move from his current spot; to duck or hide or to even run away. No. Instead, Kunikuzushi's unfaithful eyes locked dead eye contact with the Bard, hungry for a response of any kind. Anything to satiate the bloodthirst inside him, running through his veins like a spreading wildfire. The Bard assessed him without withdrawing eye contact, and then the corner of their lips curled upwards.
"Doctor, I'll be back in a moment."
A statement which nearly went unheard, if it weren't for the several other Fatui around to hear it. The Doctor himself merely shrugged, continuing to tinker with whatever.
Thus the Bard took a step forward. And then another. Before Kunikuzushi knew it, he was up on his own feet—preparing to deflect, preparing to block—ready to attack. His skin was on fire from battle excitement; a brawl, a spar, a near-death experience. The thing that kept him bleeding, the thing that kept him living, the thing that told him he was alive. How he had craved this so much. And as much as his stupidly long life would last, he can't imagine a day without this desire.
He was in control.
Without any warning, the Bard had thrown a weapon at him, which he had swiftly dodged. Kunikuzushi's own hands were around a sword that was fitted on his belt, now drawn—pointing at the Bard. He's wordless, but he can feel emotion rush through him—perhaps it would be better to call it a survival instinct—as he runs forward in an attempt to kill.
The bastard, the Bard simply grabs onto the sword before it hits against their skin; blood oozing from their gloved palms while they chuckled. Without a care for their very mortal blood that was running down their arms, the Bard shoved the sword upright barehanded and pointed at him. Kunikuzushi's sword then began to bend until it no longer resembled a sword; thus he hastily discarded it before he cut himself on its jagged form. Once it hit the ground, it melted into a puddle of silver, staring back at him as if he had done something wrong.
No weapons it was then.
Before Kunikuzushi had time to even think, a needle from the puddle formed and flew straight at him, piercing his left arm. At first, he didn't feel it. But as the needle pierced through his skin and didn't stop, adrenaline filled his veins in a desperate attempt to get it out. Get it out get it out get it out. His right hand scrambled for the metal inside him, but to no avail.
The Bard smiled at him, clapping their bloodied hands together.
"You know, most people die from that," they slur, coming closer still towards him. "But you… you're special, aren't you? You'd make for a great experiment with our friend the Doctor."
Metal oozed out of his arm, expanding and shrinking and twisting his insides. His own weapon had betrayed him.
"The fact that you're still alive! You must be an imitation of a god," they laugh, tilting his face upwards, watching his panicked pupils dilate against the pain. "Perhaps you're something that we need."
A finger traced over his delicate lips, and he could only breathe out:
"Fuck you."
Lightning came from above, and the Bard was reduced to ashes.
☆
The Doctor removes the metal from his body, at a price. Kunikuzushi was to take the place of the Bard, and obey the Doctor's medical decisions. Of course it sounded like a trap, a bad idea. Yet, the pain was overwhelming and he needed the stupid substance out of him.
(In retrospect, he realises the Fatui are fun to be around, yet also, somehow, a waste of time.)
And so it gets removed, as well as any individuality that Kunikuzushi has left. The Doctor jokingly calls him the 'Balladeer,' but the name stuck. Another name gets attached to him. Scaramouche. So that's who he is, as soon as he steps into the presence of the Tsarista and joins Her in Her conquest.
☆
Scaramouche.
The name tastes weird on his tongue, but it's better than the name Ei gave him. At least this name isn't laced with malice or disregard for his creation; and for that, he's glad. He takes on the title of Scaramouche, the sixth, the Balladeer of the Harbingers. Almost in remembrance of the Bard he had killed in the past with no remorse.
Although being part of the Fatui was a lot of work, it came with one of the best things that Scaramouche could ever ask for—the Doctor, Il Dottore, had developed it—medicine that stopped his heat cycle. It took a bit of begging and a bit of his own bodily experimentation, but finally, finally came the relief he was looking for all this time.
It was a temporary fix, of course, and it wouldn't last forever. (Nothing lasts forever, Scaramouche laments, thinking of his creator and her search for eternity.) But it was better than all the years he had spent before, sweating it out on his bedroom floor, alone and wanting. He feels shivers up his spine remembering it.
Currently, he's sitting in Il Dottore's office for a checkup, staring at the pristine floor that contrasted against the dead body on the table. He's forgotten how fucked up this guy was, and pinches his nose at the rotting smell.
"You know," the Doctor says, returning to him with a stack of paper. "You really shouldn't be on the medicine I gave you for a long period of time. They're still on trial, nowhere near perfect. I'm not sure about the side effects, Balladeer."
Scaramouche gives the Doctor a glare, and folds his arms. He's dressed in patient garb, as his usual Fatui attire was a hassle to dress and strip every time he came to this room.
(Even though he designed his own outfit, carefully selecting Liyuen characters for the back of his veil, he really can't say much for the practicality of it. It was all a show; to put on an appearance, rather than any kind of efficiency.)
The Doctor gives him a glance over, setting the papers down on a desk, and then takes his temperature.
"No symptoms—since you've been on them—relating to heat cycles, correct?"
"Nope. But," Scaramouche sighs, flexing his digits. "My skin feels dry, and sometimes I wake up with cracks in my lips."
Il Dottore writes it down, scribbling hastily and then drawing out another medical instrument. "Anything else?" His pen hangs in the air, but his red eyes are analysing Scaramouche's features. Ugh.
"Insomnia, and... My. My chest hurts. It's sore most of the time, so I usually wear another shirt underneath my usual attire."
He can feel his face heat up as Il Dottore wordlessly continues writing. Instead of looking at the Doctor, he's resorted to looking at the floor again and remembering how long he's been on the, ah, 'suppressants,' they were called. About a month, or two, perhaps? Time was a blur to him, especially since he joined the ranks of the Fatui.
"I think…" Dottore sets down his pen, and assesses the information one more time over. "The most you should be on these is five to eight years. I know you aren't human, Balladeer, but your body still has a limit. Any more than that and you'll experience the worst heat of your life."
He can feel a thread snap.
"What the fuck do you know about heats? Shitty betas, acting like any of you know anything about us."
"... It's your body, not mine."
Scaramouche leaves the room with an angry slam to the door.
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Despite that, he pretends to be a beta among the Fatui. The only two who are aware of his real gender are the Tsarista herself and Il Dottore; the rest were left in the dark. It wasn't like he was all that close to his other colleagues either, none of them paid enough attention to him to figure it out. Most of them tried to stay away from him since they realised his personality was downright nasty. Scaramouche would snap insults at every small thing, find fault where there wasn't one, and kill his own teammates without the slightest hint of guilt. Being described as 'difficult to get along with' was a huge, huge understatement. He was downright insufferable to be around, and he knew it well.
So be it. Things were better this way.
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One day the Tsarista talks about a plan against the Heavenly Principles. She calls each Harbinger into her throne room (it was and still is a suffocating place, cold and stifling at the same time), and begins one of Her most fucked up, elaborate plans ever. Somehow, all the details were still vague, and Her core reasonings were unknown. Regardless, the Fatui expanded their goals that night, this time being much more ambitious than before.
Their plan was to dethrone Archons; the theft of their godhoods, their gnoses.
La Signora, the eighth, is in charge of main operations. She plans carefully for each nation, without the cooperation of the other Harbingers. The Tsarista had given each Harbinger a specific mission to carry out, and his was to investigate Celestia. Joy.
Not even a year later and they're all called back to the throne room to review, and also to welcome a certain ginger into their ranks. Before this, Scaramouche had barely taken notice of all the Fatui recruits that had gone through the ranks or slipped out of the organisation entirely. Now, for some reason, he was filled with interest as to who this bumbling, clumsy man was. How the hell did someone like him get into the Harbingers? The newest of them smiled brightly, laughed heartily, and lived his life to the best of it, as if he's never known hardship. Only one thing on his face betrayed his personality—his eyes were dead, lacking any life.
Scaramouche later learns of his name, Tartaglia, the eleventh. He watches with curiosity, mixed in with disgust.
The Balladeer was quick to learn that he couldn't stand the eleventh, more so than his other fellow Harbingers. At least the others mostly left him alone—this one, instead, followed him around like a puppy. Annoying. He'd ask how Scaramouche was doing, if Scaramouche was up for a fight, what about dinner tonight at ten? The list of things that Tartaglia tried to talk to Scaramouche about never ended, and he'd only give up when the Balladeer slams and locks a door in his face. Even all the insults that Scaramouche has thrown at Tartaglia doesn't deter him at all; in fact, they seemed to only perpetuate his irritating behaviour.
This guy. He needed to learn his damn place.
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The other Harbingers jokingly call him 'Childe,' but the nickname stuck—it was even Tsarista approved. (Yes it was due to his childish behaviour. It really didn't mean anything else. That's what he wants to believe, anyway.)
Regardless, the plans had been set in motion and La Signora was about to depart for Mondstadt. He, on the other hand, was setting aside preparations for… a different plan. Scaramouche had been researching the skies above ever since he had been given the task of investigating Celestia. It had taken a while, but he had finally come up with something.
Departing to Liyue, Scaramouche left the Palace without a word.
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A year or so pass; and he returns to Inazuma for some unfinished business. Scaramouche meets with the unfortunate honorary knight of Mondstadt; completely disappointed in her lack of ability to do anything. But, he walks away with a prize: Ei's gnosis. The fox had traded it for the traveller's life—he wasn't sure if this was all that great of a decision, but when he had it in his hands, he decided he didn't care.
The one thing that would connect him to Celestia itself; under the fake sky in a world of lies, he could finally ascend to the godhood he deserved.
So, he ran. He took the gnosis and left, escaping to Sumeru as fast as he could.
(In hindsight this was a bad idea.)