Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

The clicks of the locks being turned one by one are accompanied by the withdrawal of the arcane seals around the unassuming room. There is a full minute of this activity before the door to the little chamber is finally opened and a tiny form slips inside, closing the door behind her.  

There is silence for a moment, as she seats herself on nothing, vines of pure leaf green energy twisting up from the floor of the room to twine themselves into a slab of light to support her.  She curls her legs underneath her, pushing back her silver hair and adjusting her dress to her satisfaction as though she has all the time in the world.  The moment stretches on, until finally a voice breaks the silence.

“What do you want, Buer.” 

In his first life, he was a murderer. A vengeful god.

In his second, he was a forgetful wanderer. A lone figure forever seeking to fill the gnawing hollowness inside.

In this, his third life, he was less than even that. It was the first life that was the true story, he knew - the circular scars on his back were proof enough of that. But he remembered every moment of his second with just as much clarity. 

Had it been a better life? No, he couldn’t say that. That unending isolation was just a different kind of hell. And now? 

Now, he drifted aimlessly through the silent halls of the Sanctuary of Surasthana. A ghost, less than a memory, dressed in the ghostly fabric and veil of both his lives’ first days. The outfit was as indestructible as he was; his second life had never bothered to replace it. In his first life, they had both survived that blazing furnace and that long gone funeral pyre, meant to burn him and his son that small child and their home that house altogether. In his second, it took four hundred years of abuse without complaint, still as pristine as the day he first woke.

How ironic, then, that he, who wished to die more than anything, should be incapable of it. The world and the gods and Irminsul itself mocked him with his continuing existence, no matter how hard he tried. It was not that he couldn’t die, no. It was that something always happened to prevent it.

When he had lost the gnosis, had felt that connection break, just as the tubes keeping him alive snapped and tore - he had been sure that that was finally it. The end of his misery, at long last.

And then that damnable wholesome bleeding heart of a golden idiot had rushed forward to catch him. 

Then, in Irminsul, seeing those perfect amber eyes blink and widen in shock as guilt and unease flickered through their connection, he’d known that he’d guessed right. That the past could be altered. Only to find out that Irminsul could only change the records, not the reality. Even the outfit - he suspected that were he to return to the place he had originally buried it, it would no longer be there - because Irminsul had to work with what was available to make its new history consistent with the world as it actually existed at the moment of the change.

He pulled the veil down over his face, retracing the too-familiar corridors and halls. He missed his kasa. It was a stupid feeling, and utterly ridiculous, and he missed it more than anything else he’d given up. It was just a fucking hat, he told himself. Just a hat.

The wind whispered to him, curled around his ankles and tugged at his sleeves. It was a constant presence after gaining his vision, telling him things he didn’t need to know, bringing him scents and sounds he never actually sensed. It wanted something today, and he wasn’t going to give it the satisfaction. Instead, he stopped in front of a pair of doors that he knew led to Buer’s library, and slipped inside.

Why in Teyvat did such a tiny god have such a large library? The god of wisdom surely didn’t need all these books - but there were also no ladders to help poor, frail little mortals reach the higher shelves. Not that he was any of those things, of course. The sages never bothered with these superfluous books while they had the akasha, so the fact they hadn’t bothered with ladders either wasn’t surprising. Buer, of course, just floated up on wisps of dendro, but him - well, a fallen god that’s drained of power can’t exactly float. That useless vision, strung around his neck with his feather, was no help at all. He’d used it out of instinct and desperation during that first fight with it, but he couldn’t make it obey him after that. A summoned gust would be a trifling breeze, a wind directed forward would instead toss him upwards, along with everything in his vicinity. He was certain it was doing it on purpose.

He didn’t need to read any of the books up there, of course. It was merely infuriating that if he wanted to, he would have to ask little miss know-it-all to get it for him. He gave the offending books his best glare, and a middle finger for good measure. Their calm indifference in the face of his righteous wrath was pure insolence. If he were still a god, he’d have burnt them all.

The wind giggled in his ear, finding his plight amusing. 

He ignored it. Whatever it wanted, he wasn’t going to do it. Instead, he walked aimlessly through the rows and rows of shelves, trailing his fingers across the spines of the tomes nearest him. Stiff brown leather and glinting golden script passed beneath his fingertips, first thin, then thick, all meticulously cared for. Perhaps he would read one, after all. He was nearing the corner window that he had claimed for his own, the cushioned alcove an isolated island of sunlight in the warm Sumeru afternoons.

To his dismay, it was occupied. His alcove. By a familiar golden braid that trailed down the back of a small man leaning against the glass, chin on his hand and open book forgotten in his lap as he gazed out across the cityscape with unseeing amber eyes. The sun caught in the wayward strands of hair that always surrounded that impassive face, glints of warmth that framed the figure as if they belonged there even in the shadows. When did he get back?

He spun on his heel, retreating as silently as possible. Too late.

“Oh,” said that unsettlingly reassuring voice (no, that was the wrong word, he didn’t find his enemy reassuring in the slightest). “You’re here.” The footsteps behind him paused a respectful distance away as the traveler continued. “Nahida said you liked the library, so I thought I’d wait for you.”

The man must want something. There was no other reason to seek out a former enemy. “Why.” His hands gradually clenched into fists at his sides as he spoke, not turning.

“You’ve had a rough couple of weeks, Wanderer,” the voice said softly. “I just wanted to see how you were doing.”

Rough, huh. That was the understatement of the century. “Peachy,” he said, hoping his clipped, dry tone would tell the other he didn’t want to talk about it.

The half-hummed tone he got in response indicated disbelief, but thankfully the other man dropped it. “I brought you something,” he said instead. “Here,” and the wanderer heard the rustle of cloth as something was held out to him. He didn’t particularly want to turn around, to see those eyes looking back at him (there had to be something wrong with the man, the way there was never any anger or malice or resentment in them - he really couldn’t stand looking at his eyes when they refused to condemn him). So when he turned around he avoided the other’s gaze, looking instead at what he was holding.

It was a rock.

Admittedly, it was a polished and smoothed rock, not just some chunk of granite - a pleasing dark blue nearly the color of his eyes. A weighty oval with a gentle indent on one side, just the right size to fit in the palm of his hand when the traveler passed it over.

“You got me a rock,” he said, unable to keep the acid out of his voice. “How kind of you.”

“It’s a worry stone,” the traveler said, a hint of a smile curving those solemn lips. Was he amused? Bastard. “In one of the- countries, I visited, people would carry them in their pockets as good luck charms. Supposedly, by holding the stone and rubbing the indentation with your thumb when you were worried, it would ease your troubles.”

“Troubles?” The wanderer said incredulously. “Seriously? Sounds like you might need that false sense of assurance more than me.” Pathetic mortals, always coming up with useless superstitions and rituals.

“Oh, I already have one,” the traveler said; the amusement was clear in his voice now. He summoned one into his hand that was nearly identical, though this one was a shimmering dark orange streaked with flashes of gold. The wanderer had to admit it suited him better than the blue one. “It was a gift from a friend. I can’t say it’s ever done anything special for me, but I do find having something to occupy my hands with is calming when I’m thinking.” He shrugged. “That one was almost the right size and shape when I spotted it earlier, and the color made me think of you, so I gave it a quick polish and shaping. If you don’t want to keep it, I won’t mind.”

The puppet narrowed his eyes at the other man. He wasn’t sure he believed any of that nonsense. And more importantly… “Did you seriously wait in here for me to show up so you could hand me a stupid rock?”

“No,” the blonde admitted easily, face serious again now. “I had a thought today while I was completing commissions for the guild. You fought with your vision beautifully when it was bestowed on you, but you’ve had trouble using it for other purposes. Perhaps, if we can replicate those initial circumstances - that is to say, a fight - you’ll be able to tap into it again.”

“So, what, you’re offering to fight me again? We both know I’d be no match for you like this, vision or no.” He hated to admit it, but it was true.

“Actually,” said the traveler, “I was thinking we could register you with the adventurer’s guild and have you practice on small commissions. I’m sure Nahida wouldn’t mind letting you out to do some simple upkeep on Sumeru when she doesn’t need you, and as a bonus you’d get more familiar with your new element. Anemo behaves very differently from Electro, after all.”

“And how, exactly,” the wanderer drawled, arching a single eyebrow, “are you planning to register someone who doesn’t have a name?”

The idiot leaned forward, hands on his hips, answering his taunt with one of his own, “The offer to find you a new one still stands, you know.”

“As if I’d want a name from you.”

“Oh,” the traveler said, lifting a hand to his forehead and reeling backwards in mock anguish, “you wound me, Wanderer.  And here I thought we were friends.”

His eye twitched. “Stop being dramatic, asshole.  And we’re not friends.”

“Heh.”  The little laugh is all the answer he gets to that before the traveler straightens, back behind that impassive façade again.  “In all seriousness, if you’re interested at all in the commission idea, we could go see what Nahida thinks of it.  It’s not worth troubling ourselves over details before she approves it.”

He had nothing better to do.  And he did want to learn to use his vision.  The tiny sparks of static that he could summon now were all that was left of his original powers, and they were essentially useless.  He felt like a cripple, reaching for things with a hand that was no longer there, calling for an element that no longer answered him.

“..fine.  But only because I’m bored.”  Definitely not because he felt sincerity from the traveler.  Definitely not.

Chapter Text

The voice is flat and uninflected, the form on the narrow bed still and unmoving.  Not once do the blank, hopeless eyes shift from their unbroken, unblinking stare at the ceiling.  If she didn’t know better, it could have been a corpse for all the life it showed.

“I have been monitoring your condition since our fight, and when I sensed you had finally awoken, I came to talk.”  She laces her fingers together, contemplating how best to start.

“To gloat, you mean,” says the slender young man.  His lips barely move with the accusation.

“To talk,” she repeats calmly.  “Many things have happened, and some you deserve to know.”

He’d recognized that look on the Balladeer’s face, as he fell.  The same look had been written on his own face, all those years ago, when  his wings and his sister had been stolen.  Only, for him, there had been nobody to break his fall. So how could he possibly have stood by as another fell just like he had?  

A fallen god, caught by a fallen star.  It didn’t matter that the star had caused the god’s fall, that it was quite deserved - he just didn’t want to let another hit the ground, no matter who.  He knew the wanderer didn’t understand it, didn’t know how much of his mind he hadn’t touched in those fleeting conversations.  Didn’t know that he wasn’t any more mortal than the wanderer himself.  Less, probably.

It didn’t matter.  Aether wasn’t the important part of the story, here.  He was just along for the ride, and when he found his sister they’d be off again.  He could still try to leave things better than he found them, though.  Teyvat certainly needed it.

Voices caught his attention, distracting him from his musing.  He shifted his gaze back to the pair arguing in front of the exit to the Sanctuary. Tiny hands clasped under her chin, green eyes wide and pleading, Nahida was doing her best to help. “Why not just keep Wanderer?  You don’t seem to mind it.”

“It’s a title and a descriptor, not a name.  Nobody’s going to accept that on an official registration form.”

“Oh, but I would!”

The wanderer rolled his eyes. “You’re not the adventurer’s guild, Bue- Lesser Lord Kusanali.”

“Well, I know you don’t want to use any names associated with painful memories, but how about Scara?  It’s technically a different name, and your mind told me you were more fond of that one than others.”

The wanderer’s expression flickered briefly.  Anger.  If his eyes had been cold before, they were frozen now, and he stared down at the little god with disdain from above those folded arms.  “First, that’s a nickname, and second, we all know what that stands for, don’t be stupid.  It still counts.  I want a new name, not some pathetic reference to all the names I’ve been given and discarded.  Dusty relics of the past that can stay there as far as I’m concerned.  I am none of those people anymore.”

“You did choose a name for yourself once, didn’t you? Why not-”

“I am not calling myself that again.  It was a stupid, arrogant name for a blind idiot that thought he knew everything.”

Aether suppressed a snort.  As if the man was any less arrogant than he had been before.

“Oh no, I wasn’t suggesting that!” Nahida’s hands waved frantically, hastily dismissing the idea.  “You chose to be Kunikuzushi, the country destroyer, as an expression of your rage.  It wouldn’t be appropriate to use such a name now, when you’re trying to leave that misplaced anger behind you.  But, perhaps a name like Kunimitsu - country’s blessing, I believe - would serve as a reminder of the new path you’ve chosen, but still provide a sense of connection to your history.”

The wanderer’s mouth opened for a retort, then closed as he considered this.  Eventually, he said, grudgingly, “…I’ll never be one of the 'good guys'.  Certainly not a blessing.  I don’t have the right to use a stupid name like that, whatever you think.”

Nahida smiled gently.  It was the first name the wanderer hadn’t outright rejected, but it seemed it was still a no.  “It was just a thought!  Obviously if you’re not comfortable with it, then there’s no need to force yourself.”

Aether finally spoke up, sensing the wanderer was growing more agitated. “What about… what about Niwa? I know he was like a father to you.” All attention was back on the traveler, now.

That dark haired head tilted thoughtfully.  “That’s… not a bad idea.  To honor my father.  But it’s a clan name, not a personal name.  And before you ask, no, I don’t want to be Hisahide Junior.”

Oh.  “Well, that rules out my next suggestion too.”

“What was it?”

“I’viathe.”

The wanderer’s perfect eyebrows climbed straight up his forehead. “…You’d share your name with me?” Then the shocked eyes narrowed, and he said sharply, “No, wait, what do you mean that’s a clan name?  There’s nothing in any record I’ve seen - Fatui or otherwise - about you having any other names, just titles.”

“I’viathe.  Son of Viathe.”  He shrugged uncomfortably, knowing he hasn’t even told Paimon this before, hearing her spin into existence at his side at what sounds to be an interesting conversation.  He deliberately avoided looking at her, though he could feel that gaze drilling into his head as he spoke.  “We stopped using our personal names with anyone else… a long time ago.”  Thousands of years, in fact.  “We’re the only Viathes left, so it works well enough while traveling to be just I’viathe and A’viathe.  We’ve, well, we’ve just never stuck around anywhere long enough for it to matter before.”  

“Traveler,” Paimon’s voice was wobbly and he can just imagine the hurt expression on her face.  “You didn’t tell Paimon your real name?”

“It is my real name,” he said defensively, finally looking over at her.  Her expression was just like he thought, pouting and on the verge of tears.  “I just don’t give the rest to anyone who’s not family.”

Oh, that made it worse.  Oops. “Paimon isn’t- isn’t your family?” If he had thought her eyes were wet before, now they were liquid pools of hurt threatening to spill over onto her cheeks.

“Shhhh, shh shhh, shhh, of course you are, Paimon,” he murmured, gathering her in for a gentle hug and planting a small kiss on her head.  “We were strangers when we met, but we’re definitely family now.”

Her voice still wobbled as she looked up at him, clutching his scarf in her little hands as if he might disappear on the spot.  “Does that mean Paimon gets to know your name, too?”

“Of course it does,” he said, offering her a smile and using the calm tone of voice he’d found she responded to best when she was truly upset.  He eyed the other two occupants of the room as he spoke.  Nahida being Nahida, she likely already knew it.  The wanderer… he’d been watching this little display of childishness with undisguised amusement.  But there was a trace of sadness in his shadowed eyes, and as Aether met them, the other man looked away, hunching his shoulders defensively.  It was clear he thought he wouldn’t be afforded the privilege, that he didn’t deserve to know.

But, in a way, wasn’t he also a strange kind of family?  Yes, he had done terrible things, yes he had tried to kill Aether multiple times.  But he had also been the one to ask him, desperately, “Is it possible… to change the past?” and then to state, “Whatever I am due, let it come to pass,” as though he hadn’t just committed one of the most elaborate and thorough suicides in the history of - well, everything, really - while trying to fix all of it?  Not only was Aether the only person to actually still remember him, he knew the man nearly as well as his sister at this point.  (The traitorous voice in his head whispered that he might even know him better than Lumine at this point, what with her baffling decision to lead an organization that put so many innocent people’s lives at risk every day.  He chose to ignore it.)

“Let me reintroduce myself then,” he said, bowing as much as he can to the other two with a weepy Paimon cradled in one arm. “I’viathe Aether.” It’s quiet, using the correct inflections and pronunciation.  Not Iviathe as so many called him here in Teyvat, I’viathe.  It didn’t really matter, in the end, as he still knew it meant him, but it felt right to be exact for a proper introduction.

The wanderer’s head jerked back around, and he stared at Aether as though he’d held out a poisonous snake instead of an olive branch.  We’re not friends, but we could be family.  If you wanted.

Paimon’s eyes lit up.  “Aether, hehee.  Paimon likes it!”  She clapped her hands together in delight, her nose wrinkling up as she finally smiled brightly again.

“Why thank you, Paimon!” He tapped her nose with a finger to make her giggle again, ignoring the flustered outrage brewing on the puppet’s face.

“It’s a lovely name,” said Nahida, smiling herself.  “I’m honored to be trusted with it.”

“Speaking of names,” the wanderer said, grumpily fidgeting with his veil.  He was looking at anything but Aether.  “What about mine?”

“Hm.”  Aether’s eyes drifted to the floor of the sanctuary as he tried again, desperately, to think of anything that might be suitable for such a complicated personality.  His mind was just drawing a blank at the thought of coming up with something so important on the fly.  A name was a representation of yourself, a thing that when said encompassed every aspect of you in a single word.  How could you possibly fit eight hundred years of misery, betrayal, murder, loneliness and grief into one word?  He tried to calm that sinking pit of anxiety in his chest over being asked to do something so incredibly monumental, and found himself absentmindedly counting the floor tiles.  

One, two, three…  

Their mirror-smooth polish, each one so regular and fitting so perfectly against each other, almost reminded him of something.  

Seven, eight, nine…  

The clack of game tiles on a table, elegant brush strokes on white lacquered backgrounds.

“Well,” he started, the memory lingering as his gaze flicked to the other’s anemo vision, strung next to that golden feather around his neck. “This might be stupid, but in Inazuman Mahjong, the wind tiles are called kazehai. What about that?”

“You literally want to call me ‘wind tiles’.”  The wanderer’s voice couldn’t have been drier even if he’d been left to dehydrate in the desert for a decade.

“Okay, so it was a stupid idea-”

“It’s not terrible.”

At Aether’s startled look, the other man shrugs.  “I didn’t say it was good, either.”

“Well,” Nahida says brightly, “What about just Kaze, then? It isn’t an uncommon Inazuman name.”

The wanderer hmmmd noncommittally, head lowered again, veil shading his face.

“Or there are hundreds of variations on the name!”  Nahida clasped her hands together, clearly excited to have found something the wanderer would consider, and started listing names, eagerly watching the man for his reactions. “There’s Kazeyoshi, a loving wind, Hayakaze, a wind at dawn, Kazehito, a kind wind, Kazekichi, a fortunate wind-”

“You realize you don’t need to tell me what they mean?”  The Inazuman seemed almost offended, eyes flicking back up to glare at the rest of the group from under the veil, hand reaching up to tug at a brim that was no longer there before dropping awkwardly.  “You’re not even getting it completely right.  And the meanings could be different depending on how it was written anyway, it’s not that simple-”

Nahida just continued listing names, eyes sparkling, completely undeterred by the criticism.  “-Takekaze, a strong-willed wind, Fuyuki, a snowy wind, Kazekazu, a tranquil wind, Kazeharu, a wind in a cloudless blue sky-”

“Oh, I like that one,” Aether blurted out before his mind caught up to his mouth.

The wanderer’s mouth snapped shut mid-complaint. “…that one, then.”

Really? Aether blinked in surprise. Just like that?

“Kazeharu…” the man said slowly, testing it out on his lips and tongue.  “Kazeharu,” he said again, before nodding sharply.  “Niwa Kazeharu.  It will do.”

“Oh, I’m so glad you found one you like!” Nahida clapped excitedly, and Paimon joined in from her seat in Aether’s lap.  She might not like the wanderer, but she was happy to support Nahida herself.  “It will be so helpful for you to have a registered identity you can display to others, and not just for taking commissions.  I can draw up some supporting paperwork for you to show the adventurer’s guild too, if they want proof of occupation and residency!”

She didn’t wait for the wanderer’s approval, simply pulled out a sheaf of paper and starting jotting down notes, bracing the document against a thin plate of dendro that materialized as she spoke.  “While I’m at it, is there anything else you think you might need to help the Traveler with commissions? A weapon, supplies, anything?”

He hesitated, opening his mouth, then shutting it again.  His face twisted in a grimace, as though he’d swallowed a lemon whole.

“Anything at all,” Nahida said gently, great big green eyes open wide in sincerity, pen paused above the paper.

There was an awkward silence as the internal debate continued.  Finally, the other man admitted something in a tiny voice very unlike his usual biting sarcasm.

“I miss my hat.”

Chapter Text

“How generous of you.”  The biting venom that would usually accompany these words is missing, as though it is too much effort to summon the energy required.

“There has been a great deal of turmoil in these last weeks. But finally - for now, at least - the troubles afflicting my nation have been all but dealt with.”

She pauses, lifting those enormous green eyes to stare directly at the figure on the bed.

“Except for you.”

There is no response.

Just like that, he had a kasa again. Not just any kasa, but an ornate deep blue one with elaborate golden ornamentation and a stylized lotus adorning the crown, nearly ostentatious enough to rival his first. Lesser Lord Kusanali’s utter delight that he had finally expressed interest in anything at all meant that it had come with a full set of matching apparel suitable for a shugenja such as he had named himself to her at their second first meeting. He had no idea how she could possibly have pulled that off so quickly, much less how they were all so perfectly fitted - and made from the finest Inazuman fabrics and Sumeran dyes no less. Not only were there robes and sandals, there was a proper setting for his vision, lying right over where his heart would be if he had one. He knew that was absolutely not coincidental but refused to comment on it. 

If he didn’t know better, he’d have suspected the little god of plotting to dress him up from the very beginning (did he know better? He decided not to think about that).

He had to admit, just the comforting weight of the kasa back on his head was enough to ground him in reality again, the way nothing had for months. It was simply there in the edge of his vision, blocking the too-bright light from hurting his eyes, shielding him from the gazes of others when the world was just too much with the slightest dip of his head. The color still took him by surprise on occasion when he was subconsciously expecting a different one, but he found himself growing fond of it. What was it she had said? A wind in a cloudless blue sky.

Aether had said he liked that.

Maybe Kazeharu did too.

“Niwa Kazeharu,” he said to his inferior copy that was manning the adventurer’s booth, one week later, after everything had finally been prepared. It was the first time he’d introduced himself that way. He tried to ignore the little fluttering tingle of excitement in his stomach - it wasn’t like he had any guarantee this name would last any longer than the rest. But, knowing what he did now - with all the puzzle pieces finally in place - it would be hard to give up Niwa, give up that tiny piece of the only parent he’d ever had. He still felt guilty for not believing in his father, so the least he could do was carry his name as he tried to make things right. He had no particular attachment to Kazeharu, yet (other than that brief expression of delight that had flickered across the traveler’s face - no, he wasn’t thinking about that) but he liked the way they sounded together.

Occupation: Second Sage of Buer

He’d objected to that title at first, when he’d seen it on the documents Lesser Lord Kusanali had handed him.

“You can’t be serious,” he’d said. 

“Of course I’m serious,” she’d replied, blinking those huge eyes up at him innocently. “Since you accepted our alliance you have been a great help to me, even while coming to terms with all you’ve learned. You are no longer a god, but you are still capable of things that no one else can do aside from me. You can connect with Irminsul directly, and you can touch the minds of those you are familiar with. With physical contact, you can touch the minds of strangers as well. 
 
“It is only logical that you should have a position both granting you the respect my most prized assistants deserve, as well as the freedom of movement that allows you to take on any task required without being tied down to any one specific location.”

He’d tried pointing out just how badly the last time he’d connected to Irminsul had gone, only to be told that such a unique experience only added to their understanding of how the world functioned and was thus a valuable asset - especially considering he was unlikely to try it again.

How ironic, that the First Sage of Buer had kicked the Second Sage’s ass to get him to take the job.

Residence: Sanctuary of Surasthana, Sumeru

His proof of residency at the Sanctuary of Surasthana - definitely a bizarre place to say he lived - was accepted without comment and both papers were snapped with a Kamera for the record, before being returned.

“You can decide to live somewhere else, of course,” Kusanali’d said. “But I will still keep a place for you, in case you want it.”

It was admittedly not designed as a living space, but as neither he nor the god needed sleep or sustenance it served them well enough for now.

Nation of Birth: Inazuma

There was no denying that, not with him taking the name he did. It still hurt to remember, though.

Vision: Anemo

The vision in question glinted brightly, pulsing almost imperceptibly right there against his chest. Like a heartbeat.

“Sign here,” said the other puppet, as he finished filling in the form. He hesitated for a brief moment - he hadn’t ever written his new name down before. Then, carefully, he drew each character onto the line, stroke by stroke. For good measure, he wrote the name in the common tongue as well. The traveler - no, Aether - signed next, a simple I’viathe, his referral having allowed Kazeharu to skip several of the tedious steps involving combat capability assessment. Not that it would have been accurate right now, anyway - he was far stronger than any mortal, despite his current difficulty with his new vision.

“Thank you for registering with the Adventurer’s Guild, Master Niwa,” the attendant said as she carefully stacked all the papers together. Master Niwa. That fluttering tingle was back again. He could definitely get used to that. “There is one more thing we need to do before we can issue your adventurer’s card - we need a photo of you as well.”

That turned out to be the worst part. The puppet attendant, Katheryne, insisted that he remove his hat for the photo. Kazeharu refused. He’d just gotten the damn thing, he wasn’t going to take it off unless he had to. He was fairly certain he could see Aether trying not to laugh as he leaned against the counter behind them, watching. That settled it; the bastard could laugh all he liked, but the hat was staying.

Much later, Kazeharu followed Aether out of the city to start on a commission for an easy hilichurl infestation removal. The simple dirt trail they followed was baking in the noon sun, the warmth tamed by the cool summer breeze that flowed up the verdant slopes from the forest. Aether kept tilting his head to face the sun while he walked, drinking in the sunlight with his eyes closing sleepily against the glare. Paimon floated above their heads, turning lazy somersaults and drifting back and forth as she chattered inanely about what she’d eaten for lunch, and the traveler listened in patient silence with a tiny smile. 

The puppet tuned her out, examining his new card in detail, from the gloss of the protective lacquer to the photo slipped between the two halves of the paper so it was visible in the cutout. He looked serious, chin lifted and one hand raised to tip the brim of his hat back farther so his face was completely visible, eyes catching the light. Next to it, his new name, in both Inazuman and common. Adventurer: Experienced, was the only other thing the front said. The back listed the date and the region the card was issued in - Sumeru, obviously - and was stamped with the official seal of the adventurer’s guild.

It was such a simple slip of parchment, barely weighing anything at all. And yet, it felt heavy in his hands, as though it was more than just the mass of the paper and ink that he was carrying. It felt… auspicious. 

He snorted to himself. What a ridiculous thing to feel about a stupid piece of paper. He was definitely thinking too hard about this, so he tucked it away into his sleeve, with his little doll and the blue stone (he was only keeping it because it matched the indigo in his robes, not because it fit so perfectly in his palm after Aether had shaped it).

He’d slowed briefly as he put it away, and looked up to see the other two waiting at the crest of a hill.

“Ugh, you’re such a slowpoke,” Paimon complained as he caught up. “How are we supposed to get you all trained if it takes us forever just to get there?”

“You don’t have to be here, you know,” he muttered, glaring at her from under the brim of his hat. Paimon stuck her tongue out at him at that, so of course he replied in kind.

Aether only laughed softly. “What are you two, six years old? We’re almost there, anyway. Come on.” He pointed off towards the treeline, even though there wasn’t anything immediately visible.

Kazeharu eyed him suspiciously. “How do you even know, anyway? I haven’t seen you check a map this whole time.”

“I remember things I’ve seen. Maps included.”

“What, perfectly?” Interesting. He hadn’t known that. Neither had the Fatui.

Aether shrugged, following the invisible map in his head once again. “Things I’ve seen, things I’ve heard, smelled, tasted. I still carry a map so people can mark things on it for me, though.”

That explained why he’d taken the map out at the adventurer’s guild on accepting the commission, only to immediately put it away. Damn. That would be really fucking useful. He was almost jealous, and of a mortal no less. Another thing he could add to his little mental file of ‘things I didn’t know about the traveler’.

“Now, the commission said that the area the hilichurls have taken is a specialty garden for medicinal plants,” Aether said as they walked. “Our goal is to remove the monsters without further damage to the plants.” He raised a finger to emphasize his point, turning his head to the wanderer, gaze serious. “Basically, that means plant life is off limits, and we need to be careful with pyro. As an anemo user, that’s something you’ll need to pay attention to - the wind carries the other elements and spreads them easily. Fires, torches, lanterns - a wind too close to any of them can drag the element out and amplify it. Cryo can also be harmful to plants, but unless there’s mist flowers or slimes in the area, you don’t tend to find too many instances of naturally occurring cryo sources.”

He hadn’t expected a lecture. “So, what, I can’t use anemo near any fire at all?”

Aether shook his head as they entered the shade of the forest. “The wind can carry pyro, but it can also snuff it out. A lot of times it’s incredibly useful to pick up fire and hurl it against your enemies, but in this case, you’d want to make sure the fire is blown out instead of amplified. Pyro needs air to feed on - take away its air and it dies.”

Kazeharu squinted at the other man. “The hell makes you think I’d be able to do that when I can’t even control my vision reliably?”

“I’m just telling you for future reference, when you’re on your own,” Aether said, shrugging. “I’ll be using anemo too - I can handle any pyro this time.”

“Wait,” Paimon said, darting through the air to hover by the traveler. “About your elements - who are you remembering right now, Traveler? Anyone?”

The fuck was that supposed to mean? Kazeharu frowned at both of them in confusion. Something to do with his perfect memory?

“Oh,” Aether said, “that’s a good point. Let me just… remember Zhongli…” Aether closed his eyes, concentrating. Nothing seemed different when he opened his eyes, but he turned to the wanderer and said, quietly, “Okay. I’ll be able to shield you while we fight now, which should give you some breathing room to figure out your vision without worrying about getting hurt.”

The puppet opened his mouth to say something sarcastic about injuries not mattering to him, but Aether held up his hand first to halt him, nodding his head towards the hilichurl towers just barely visible through the trees. He eased back a little, dropping his voice to mutter in Kazeharu’s ear, breath warm against his artificial skin. “I don’t think they heard us, but we should still be cautious. If we can lure any of them away from the garden instead of just running in, that would be ideal.” 

The wanderer admittedly didn’t have a lot of experience with protecting human constructions - he’d usually been the one destroying them - so he merely shrugged.  He supposed that it made sense to just not fight next to things you wanted to preserve.

“Let me see if I can get the attention of one or two of the outer guards,” Aether said, summoning a bow to his hands instead of his sword.  “That way, you’ll have the opportunity to concentrate on one enemy at a time for a little warm-up.”

“Good luck!” Paimon whispered, vanishing in a swirl of stardust, as Aether squared his shoulders and thrust his arms out to either side in a manner wholly unlike himself, lifting himself into the air on the tip of a stone pillar.  The drifting rocks surrounding him as he did so formed a translucent amber barrier, and he knelt atop the pillar to take aim at the guard towers and shoot in one swift motion. Kazeharu tracked the arrow with his eyes - too fast for a human, but not for him. As it reached the end of its arc, he heard a distant “Ya!”

“There we go,” Aether murmured above him, only barely loud enough for the puppet’s enhanced hearing. “One hilichurl coming right up.”

The wanderer raised an eyebrow and looked up, through the drifting rocks that surrounded him as well. “You sure it’s just one?”

“If there’s more I’ll take them down,” the other said, nocking another arrow.  “Just focus on yours, so you can get used to accessing your vision.”

That was easier said than done. True to his word, Aether’s barrier rendered the wanderer impervious to the attacks of the lone hilichurl, but when he tried to reach for his power, he kept summoning the barest hint of sparks and electro. To his frustration, all he’d done so far was create a crackling static in the hilichurl’s fur, and his useless catalyst wasn’t making it any easier to connect to the wind.

“Don’t try reaching for your old power,” Aether suggested from his perch, gesturing casually to send more rocks to bolster the shield. “It’s obvious that’s not working, so try something else.”

“What else,” Kazeharu snarled in frustration, as another tiny spark leapt from his fingertips. “This is bullshit.”

“Try to remember what you did and felt when you faced yourself, perhaps? I’m afraid I don’t know how visions work, either.”

“Tch.”

He didn’t want to think about it, that moment when he’d felt everything he was consolidate inside himself into one single person, his vision clearing only to see his failed godhood on the brink of destroying everything he had just found once again. He wouldn’t allow it. Not again. Never again.

He reached for that determination and felt it, the swirling breeze brushing against his mind just beyond his reach. There.

The subsequent explosion of uncontrolled winds launched both him and the monster into the air, cracking Aether’s pillar and knocking him off too. The landing knocked the breath out of the traveler, and if Kazeharu needed to breathe he’d have been winded too. The hilichurl, on the other hand, disintegrated into abyssal dust before it even hit the ground.

“Well,” Aether wheezed from where he’d landed, “It may not have been elegant, but at least we know you’re still damn strong. It didn’t stand a chance.”

“Of course not,” the puppet replied smugly.  He probably shouldn’t be so proud of defeating a single monster, but he wasn’t going to deny acknowledgment of his superiority from the traveler.

Judging by the sudden chorus of hilichurl voices, the explosion had been loud enough to attract attention. Aether groaned as he climbed to his feet, rolling his shoulder and wincing. “That’s gonna hurt later,” he commented, dismissing the bow in favor of his sword. “Looks like the noise has drawn most of them out though, so that works in our favor.”

Kazeharu hadn’t let go of the winds once he’d grabbed them, and though they slipped through his fingers time and time again, he managed to force them into a semblance of obedience, modeling his slicing strikes after the traveler’s own wind blades that he cast off the tip of his sword with each hit. Uncooperative as it was, he still felt the air cushioning his steps, denying gravity’s grasp and turning his furious off-balance gestures into graceful spins and gentle landings.  

He marveled again at the difference between anemo’s playful eagerness and electro’s single-minded fury. The wind didn’t always obey his commands, but it also helped of its own volition, something electro had never done - and possibly wasn’t even capable of, now that he thought about it.

Eventually, the last hilichurl fell, and Aether stepped back, flicking invisible fragments off the tip of his sword. “A bit rough, but that’ll get better as you practice.”

He received an offended huff for his response. The wanderer wasn’t going to dignify it with anything else.

“I suspect that was the bulk of them,” the traveler continued, alert gaze flicking from fallen weapon to fallen weapon, looking for any remaining danger, “but we’ll need to check for any stragglers before we can report back.” He gestured towards the now empty guard towers and buildings. “Let’s check things out.”

They found only a single hilichurl, hiding at the back of one of the buildings. It didn’t attack, fleeing as soon as they approached it.  Aether stopped him from attacking it as it ran off, shaking his head.

“You can’t seriously tell me you’re sparing a hilichurl,” Kazeharu spat incredulously. “I thought your whole thing was defeating monsters and protecting people.”

“Hilichurls were all human once,” the other man said softly. “If they don’t try to fight, I leave them alone.  By itself, that one isn’t a threat to anyone.”

The puppet was silent. They had been human? Knowing the traveler, that was certainly enough reason for the man to want to spare them. Eventually his curiosity got the better of him, and he had to ask. 

“How do you know that?”

“As best as I can tell from my investigations while searching for my sister, when Celestia destroys a nation…” Aether stopped, and Kazeharu thought that was all he was going to get for a moment.  Finally, after taking a deep breath, he continued, “the inhabitants are cursed to become monsters. I’ve found too many records of nations destroyed, and heard the stories of partially cursed survivors.  

“I have personally confirmed this happened in Khaenri’ah, but that was only the latest in a string of cataclysmic erasures. If Khaenri’ah was the first occurrence of such a curse, there wouldn’t be hilichurls recorded in texts going back thousands of years.”

Aether turned to look at the wanderer, then, the light filtering through the leaves catching in his hair and turning those sad eyes from pale amber to burnished gold. “If you look, you’ll see there are never any hilichurl children. That’s why. They’re not born, but made.”

He had also been made, not born. His hand strayed to his empty chest, feeling for the lack of a heartbeat. Thinking about it, he wasn’t sure if it would have been worse to have been human first, only to then lose that humanity.

He suspected it was.

The traveler abruptly changed the subject (obviously getting emotional over all those used-to-be humans, it was just like him to do that) and said, “Anyways, do you think you’ve gotten the hang of at least using your vision? Once you took hold of the wind, you did just fine, but that’s not the part you’ve been having trouble with.”

In answer, Kazeharu reached out to the wind again, feeling for that resolute determination. A tiny gust of wind condensed in his palm, and he couldn’t repress a smug smile at how easily it came this time. It really had just been that his control of electro had been an innate part of his body, and he hadn’t realized that the vision was more of a state of mind. The wrong method would simply fail to control the unrelated element.

He looked from the ball of wind swirling in his palm back to Aether’s relieved face, questions springing to his lips.

“Why are you even bothering with me,” he said, suddenly uncomfortable at the sight of his former enemy so close and so unthreatening. “You don’t need to do this. Any of this. I tried to kill you. I don’t need to be able to fight or even use the damn vision to do what Buer needs me for.”

Aether merely hummed in response, not looking at him.

“Don’t give me that hmmm bullshit, Traveler.”

“…I saw your face when you realized you could fly, that first day.” The traveler smiled wistfully, gazing up at the glimpses of blue sky peeking through the canopy.  “At least one of us should be able to, don’t you think?”

What the hell did that mean?

He was left to puzzle over it in silence, as the traveler refused to elaborate any further.

Chapter Text

“I’d like to make a deal with you," the tiny deity says, clasping her hands and offering her prisoner a brilliant smile. "If my assessment is correct, as a former deity of wisdom, you’ve retained a number of properties useful to me."

“And will you give me back my gnosis in return for this favor?”  The voice is tired, knowing that this last ditch effort at regaining his makeshift heart will fail.

“I’m afraid that’s no longer possible, nor could I give you mine if you wanted it.”

“…of course it’s not.  You wouldn’t give that kind of power back to your prisoner anyway, not when you could use it for yourself.”

“Actually, I traded them,” she says simply.  This, finally, earns her a reaction, the barest shift of his head and an incredulous glare.  It’s the first hint of life she’s seen in his eyes since he fell.

Once he’d figured out how to use his vision instead of his native electro, the next few months suddenly became much easier for Kazeharu. Even when the wind didn’t answer the way he wanted, or played a trick on him, it still answered. Every few days the traveler would show up and ask if he wanted to help with some commission he thought might be a good training experience, and every time the puppet would grumble loudly about being dragged away from his duties, only for Lesser Lord Kusanali to dismiss him so he could join the pair.

Afterwards, Aether always ended up sharing something that he’d noticed during the fight. (It was always a fight. At least the traveler respected him enough not to ask him to pick fruit.) 

He'd explained how the rigid control he’d tried to exert over the winds at first was contrary to the very nature of the element, how if he just focused on the goal and not how the wind accomplished it, it would flow from his fingers smoother and easier. Showed him a tiny storm cupped in his hands, how letting it shape itself inside the boundaries given rather than controlling every wisp of air allowed it to flow in unexpected ways that still fulfilled its purpose.

“The wind has a mind of its own,” Aether told him, tipping the little storm from his hands into Kazeharu’s, letting him take control of it. “You have to learn to trust it. The wind wants to help, and it wants to play. Let it roam within the space you call it into, and it will answer you every time.”

To his surprise, he’d started to look forward to those little excursions, but he’d never tell them that. He could certainly do with less complaining from the flying chatterbox, but he tolerated it. Mostly. She was of the opinion that he didn’t need any more help from them, now that he was reliably able to summon even the gentlest of winds so that he could hover in the air as well as she did. For some reason Aether loved to see him do it, always commenting with a smile that he’d never touch the ground again if it was him, and Kazeharu was never one to pass up an opportunity to show off.

He’d learned to dismiss his hat when he flew, though, after the third time it got blown off and landed in a tangle of thorns and angry fungi.

Today was no different from those previous excursions, the traveler walking below them and basking in the afternoon sunlight as the two in the air argued about nearly everything as they followed. Paimon was currently insisting that he was wasting the traveler’s energy by making him put shields up whenever they fought.

“You can fly well enough already to just dodge things, and if he didn’t need to shield you he could use that energy on killing things instead!”

“He’s the one that decided to put up shields,” Kazeharu pointed out. “As if I need some puny mortal’s protection. Ridiculous.”

“Oh yeah? Well, Paimon dares you to fight without the Traveler’s shield, then!”

He blew a raspberry at her and floated backwards along the path in front of her, not answering. Furious, she stomped her foot in midair, and said, gritting her teeth, “Well fine, then, Paimon triple-dog-dares you!”

“Oh no,” Aether said from below them, amusement coloring his voice again, “She really means it this time, Haru.” 

That was the latest development in his collection of names. Kazeharu was, he had to admit, a tiny bit too long to shout quickly in the middle of a fight to warn someone about something, and the traveler had taken to dropping the Kaze, first when fighting, then all the time. He didn’t mind, really, at least not from him, and it did make sense - though he had initially asked why he didn’t just call him Kaz or Kaze instead.

“Ah, I wouldn’t want to give you the same nickname as someone else,” he’d said. “I already call Kazuha Kaz, and I’m sure you’d prefer your own.”

He definitely didn’t want to be called the same thing as Kaedehara, no matter how much he respected what he’d heard of the man, and Kaedehara definitely wouldn’t want to share a name with the criminal that destroyed his entire clan, so he permitted it. If anyone else wanted to use a shorter name for him, though, they could just stick with Niwa. He said as much to Buer when she’d asked about it. They had named him Kazeharu, and he didn’t give a damn whether anyone else thought it was too much of a mouthful. 

That went double for Paimon, who was still making a face at him. “Hey,” he shrugged, feigning disinterest, “I already said I don’t need protection, especially not from either of you. You want to yell at someone about it, yell at him.”

“Well, if you’re sure…” Aether said. “I can certainly stop taking time for shields. If I’m not using barriers I can use something else that hits harder.”

Kazeharu snorted. “It’s just a couple of ruin drakes. Hardly a challenge.”

The bounty had been reported as deep inside a cave system, and as they got closer, they could hear the mechanical whir of moving parts echoing across the walls around them.  By this point, Paimon had usually vanished, and Kazeharu was quick to point that out.

“Well? Aren’t you going to go hide in your little pocket domain, the way you always do?”

“Oh, no, Paimon has to watch and make sure you don’t cheat. Like a cheaty cheater.”  She folded her arms haughtily, nose in the air. “Paimon doesn’t trust you, you know.”

“Shouldn’t you be watching him, then?” He jerked his thumb in the traveler’s direction.  “I’m not the one that can make shields.”

“Hmph!  Maybe I’m watching both of you!”

Ignoring them, Aether checked around the corner of the crumbling room up ahead.  “Here they are,” he said quietly.  “Come on.”

True to his word, he went on full offense this time, calling elements he hadn’t used while fighting beside the puppet before. The traveler summoned electro to his side as he dashed past the ruin drakes in a burst of lightning, chaining constructs together that charged the air around them, before letting the element go and reaching for another. In the next instant, when he called for dendro, everything suddenly stopped making sense.

Kazeharu recognized those mannerisms.  The traveler spun and tapped the ground beneath him with his feet, releasing bursts of leaf-green energy that fused with the electro in the air in crackling explosions, a perfect mimicry of Buer’s playful hopscotch attacks.  Had she somehow joined them, taking control of the blonde’s body?  No, it couldn’t be, for in the next moment Aether called for anemo, dainty footsteps sliding smoothly into a graceful slicing spin that summoned a whirlwind of translucent leaves to spread the crackling electricity even further, and the playfulness was entirely gone.

He realized that he was simply standing and gaping at the bizarre scene just in time to dodge a heavy tail that slammed into the ground where he’d been seconds before. 

He didn’t have time to think about it anymore, simply kicked himself off the ground with one foot and into the air, summoning his own winds to spread the traveler’s electro even further. Slicing gales struck at every exposed wire and mechanism, keening blades of air ripping into the drakes.  First one, then the other was knocked from the air as he threw everything he had at them, Aether’s sword quick to snake in between critical joints as they collapsed for easy damage, before dodging back out of their reach.

They weren’t down yet, though, and he could see the wheels in their stupid mechanical brains turning as they decided the flying figure was the greater threat (he was, after all) and their targeting systems whirred into action.  Seconds later, two volleys of rockets sprayed forth, aimed directly at him.

Time slowed, as he saw both sets of rockets homing in on him, too many to dodge entirely. It occurred to him, in the depths of his mind, that if he just stayed where he was, there was probably enough firepower packed into them to destroy him completely. That tiny voice whispered to him, saying, would that be such a bad thing? If we were gone, no one would have to pretend they needed us. Kaedehara wouldn’t have to learn the painful truth and be compelled to execute us. Aether could move on to Fontaine, instead of wasting his time training a future dead man.

And he hesitated.

He snapped back to reality when the first rocket struck him, the explosion unexpectedly knocking him back in the air, nothing there to brace himself against or brake his momentum.  That was his biggest miscalculation.  He wasn’t able to stay in place for a quick death.  

Each new rocket that exploded knocked him further back before he could recover, throwing him back and forth in the air, other rockets missing entirely because he’d been moved from their paths, exploding against the roof and the walls of the cavern instead. The crack that sounded as he too hit the wall of the cavern was simply the last straw, and the damaged rocks crumbled under the force of the repeated blows. He fell with the wall, rocks bludgeoning his already burnt and injured limbs as they hit the floor together.

He could see Paimon’s dismay from across the cavern as he dropped, eyes wide in horror and face draining of blood, reaching uselessly for him as she screamed. “Why didn’t you dodge, idiot??” Aether, too, was turning, but his face spoke only of understanding and pained regret.

Sorry, traveler… Aether, he thought, as his sensory inputs shut down from the stress. It’s probably better this way, anyway…

He’d recognized that fey look on Haru’s face, in that brief moment that stretched on for eons. He’d seen it on his own face, before. It would be so easy, it said, to just let it all end here. To just stop.

He’d known what was going to happen as soon as he recognized it, and he’d known that he was too far away to reach the man in time to help. There was no time to think about it, as the ruin drakes locked onto him for the next barrage of missiles after their first target fell. Aether danced with them, dodging blast after blast to lash out with quick strikes, shrapnel flying past him and tearing his skin when he wasn’t quite fast enough. Haru had already almost destroyed them as it was, so it wasn’t too much longer before they finally shut down, gears grinding to a halt with a desperate whine.

Now he could drop his sword and run to the rubble at the other end of the room, where Paimon was struggling to lift rocks off the pile as best she could with all her might, a continuous stream of broken words flooding out of her as she did.

“…Paimon is so sorry,  Paimon didn’t mean for Wanderer to get hurt, but why didn’t he dodge- h-he, he would’ve been okay if he’d just moved, Paimon doesn’t understand, and it’s all her fault-”

Rather than try to lift them himself, Aether called to the wind. One of your children is here, he told it as he tugged at the rocks with his power, and he needs our help. Please. He sensed the wind’s amusement as it answered. Of course it would help, there was no need to have even asked, not for those it favored. Still, he thanked it silently as the remains of the wall was lifted, piece by piece, gently to one side, revealing the broken puppet hidden underneath.

Paimon’s horrified gasp told Aether that it was as bad as he feared as he knelt down to check on him. His legs seemed to have taken the worst of it, one bent at an awkward angle, the other covered in ragged gashes and burns. No breath, no pulse, body cool to the touch - none of those meant anything, with Kazeharu. How was one supposed to tell if a seemingly inanimate object was still alive or not?

To his relief, gently patting the puppet’s cheeks and calling his name was enough to rouse him. His eyes fluttered open with a dazed expression as he started breathing again with a cough, and Aether let out a relieved sigh. “It’s okay, Haru, I’ve got you.”

“Ah,” the puppet commented, too calmly, indigo eyes slowly focusing on the serious face hovering above him, framed by messy, bloodied golden hair.  “I see I’m not dead yet.”

“No, you’re not,” Aether agreed, not bothering with accusations.  There would be time enough for lectures later. “Here, let me help you sit up-” he slipped an arm beneath his shoulders and eased him up, careful not to jostle his lower body, as he turned his head to look over at Paimon and her continuing litany.

“-and what if he dies, oh no, Nahida will be so mad at Paimon, it’s all her fault! Paimon never should have-”

“Paimon,” Aether said as calmly as possible over her panicked babble, “It’s not your fault. Can you get a bed ready in the teapot for Haru? He’s going to need to lie down.”

Giving her a task was always enough to distract her. “Yes!” Her fluttering hands slowed slightly, and she clenched them determinedly. “Yes, Paimon will do that right away! And Paimon will make sure he has extra pillows! And tea!” She vanished into stardust and constellations as she finished her sentence, and Aether breathed a little easier. One disaster at a time was all he could handle at the moment.

He looked back over at the other man, who was cautiously pulling up the leg of his shorts to get a better look at the worst leg. It looked… bad. Really bad. Not only was it bent in a disturbingly wrong manner, his blood was splattered liberally across the floor and his bruised hands, and still dripped from the largest jagged wound itself. Aether wasn’t sure if that was bone he could see, but it certainly seemed to serve the same function.

“Shit,” Aether said, reverting back to his mother tongue in his shock. “Holy fucking hell.”

“What?”

“Are you-” He cleared his throat, realizing the words he was speaking had originated several galaxies away, and the perplexed man on the ground had definitely never heard anything like them before.  He was definitely rattled, if he was losing his grip on languages. “Are you going to be okay?”

The wanderer grimaced, examining his leg. He looked as calm as ever, but his voice was a whole octave higher than usual when he spoke. “Normally, I wouldn’t be concerned, since I heal quickly.  All this,” he gestured at his battered limbs, “is superficial. But this… nngh.” The involuntary noise he made as he touched the bloodied gash where his leg bent in the wrong direction was choked off quickly, but Aether could tell he was in an extreme amount of pain. “This is structural damage. It won’t heal properly without extra work.”

“Tell me what to do, then.”

The pained laugh that answered him was unsettling. Haru’s eyes flicked up to look at Aether, pupils dilating as he tried to focus on the other man. “I don’t know. On the rare occasion I’d get injured this badly, I’d usually wake up to… him.” The tiny shudder left no doubt who he meant. “I’ve never had to deal with it on my own.”

Aether’s voice dropped as anger flickered across his face. “Okay, first off, like hell I’d let that asshole get his hands on you again.” He took a deep breath, then continued. “Secondly, if he doesn’t remember you he probably won’t remember how to repair you either, which makes it a moot point. What about-”

The puppet tipped his head back to rest it against the wall, eyebrows furrowing as he closed his eyes. “No. I refuse to indebt myself to that woman for anything. As if she’d even care. It’s not like -” he grimaced again as he shifted his weight “-it’s not like this will kill me. It just- it just. Really fucking hurts.”

“I should at least splint it for stability, until we figure out what to do.” Aether’s hands were already busily pulling things out of his overstuffed limitless pack as he spoke - strips of bandages and bits of gauze, water, an unlabeled vial of some kind of pills. He held that one up for Kazeharu to see. “Do human- uh, human-” what were these called again? He couldn’t focus. Medicine, drugs, anaesthetics, did he know any of those words in Teyvatan common? “…painkillers work on you?”

“Hell if I know.” The man’s breathing was growing ragged - a coping mechanism, perhaps? The puppet usually didn’t bother with unnecessary things like that, but now he seemed to be focusing on it. “Probably not, since I can’t be poisoned either.”

The blonde hummed in acknowledgement, dropping the pills back into the bag and laying out the thin logs he’d retrieved instead. He looked up at the other’s pale, strained face, and said quietly, “I’m gonna have to move it. Brace yourself.”

He got a brief nod. “Do it.”

The uninterrupted flow of swear words in several different Teyvatan languages didn’t stop the entire time Aether was sliding the bandages underneath the leg and bracing it against the logs with quick, neat knots. He noted quite a few terms that he was unfamiliar with in the continuing barrage and tucked them away in the back of his mind for later study. “Okay,” he said, tying the last knot. “That should help a little. We ought to be able to move you without making it worse now.”

“Great,” the other breathed faintly. “I’m. I’m gonna - pass out now. Have fun.”

Aether barely caught the man before he tipped over onto the ground again, his limp body once more still and silent against the traveler’s chest, the fine midnight hair splayed across his shoulder stirred only by his own breathing.  Echoes of pain still marked that delicate face, lips bent in a near-permanent frown and eyebrows creased above the smudged red eyeliner. That should probably be wiped off, the traveler noted absently, as he reached out to the hidden domain inside his pack to transfer them both inside.

He’d figure everything else out after that.

Chapter Text

“After all that work and effort to strip it from me, you turned around and handed it right back to us along with your own?”

“It was a fair deal.  And… you likely won’t want to hear this, but… ‘us’ may not be the correct phrase anymore.  Well, no, there is no ‘may not’. Is not the correct phrase anymore.”

“Of course,” he murmurs, turning back to face the ceiling once more.  “Too weak to defeat even a child god - who would need something useless like that?”

The first thing Kazeharu heard as he swam back to consciousness was soft voices. A quiet conversation nearby, though he only recognized one voice. 

“…how is your brother doing, now?” Aether.

The voice that answers is calm and controlled. “He’s stopped using my face, recently.”  

The statement made no sense, but he could hear the traveler’s ‘aha’ of understanding.  Apparently that meant something to him.

The calm voice continued, “He’s decided he wants his own chance to develop distinct relationships with the people he’s grown to know. Klee, especially.” (Who was Klee?) “We’ve spent the past year laying the groundwork to introduce him as my older brother, hence his reversion to his original face. We’ve exchanged enough staged letters and I’ve mentioned him enough times that it should go relatively smoothly once we initiate the process. Perhaps in a few weeks.”

Cautiously blinking his eyes open, there was only the patterned wood of an unfamiliar ceiling above him.  He seemed to be in a small bedroom, soft light peeking past the closed shutters… hadn’t the traveler said something to Paimon about a bed? This must be his house. Stiffly, he turned his aching head towards the sound of the voices. Aether was seated on one end of a cluttered bench, facing towards the partially open door through which a sliver of a polished wooden floor and railing could be seen, shirt off and braid dangling over his shoulder. Steady hands belonging to an unfamiliar man with shoulder-length flaxen hair, pulled back into a half braid, were stitching up the last of several extensive cuts on Aether’s exposed back. 

The puppet had never seen the traveler topless before. He was far more muscular than he looked, dressed in those unassuming, concealing leathers.  He could see his shoulder blades shifting under the skin as he jerked away from a too eager prod of the needle, and a second pair of shoulder blades seated below the first that moved in tandem. But what really caught Kazeharu’s attention were the scars. Thick, jagged slashes seated across those seemingly useless secondary shoulder blades, as if something that belonged there had been ripped away.

He remembered the traveler’s words on the day of their first commission. “At least one of us should be able to fly, don’t you think?”

Oh. Oh.

His indrawn breath of sudden understanding was loud enough for the other two to hear, and their faces lifted towards him in surprise. Aether started to turn and raise his hand in a small greeting, but was quickly pushed back around by the other’s firm hand, preventing him from disturbing the stitches.

“You’re awake,” said the unfamiliar man, turning his sea-green eyes back to his needlework. “How are you feeling?”

“Like shit,” Kazeharu said bluntly. “I don’t hurt too much anymore, though.”

“That’s good,” the pale-haired man said, in that same calm tone as before. “I was uncertain if my techniques would prove effective on you, though it seems the Traveler’s guess was accurate. The methods used in our creation appear to have been very similar.”

He narrowed his eyes, trying to process the strange statement. “Our creation?”

“Yes,” the other man said, tying and knotting the thread at the last stitch before cutting the needle free.  Job done, he turned to face Kazeharu, gesturing to the four-pointed star at the base of his neck as he spoke. “Khaenri’an puppet-making techniques were one of many parallel techniques developed by my master in the course of her research into homunculi, the end product of which was me.”

He said it so easily, as if there weren’t hundreds of pieces of confidential information hidden in that one insane sentence. The man stood, placing the threaded needle onto a small tray with other medical equipment sitting on the bench, and offered his hand after wiping them both with a clean towel. “I am Albedo, Chief Alchemist of the Knights of Favonius, and the Traveler asked me to tend your wounds in the hope that I would be able to effect repairs on a non-human entity with a similar background to myself.”

“…huh,” he said blankly. What an articulate contribution to the conversation, Kazeharu, good job.

“He was the only other person I could think of who might be able to fix you,” Aether said, lowering his head. “I’m sorry. I know you don’t like trusting people with your secrets, but I’m no doctor, and you were in a lot of pain.” His gaze lifted back up, golden eyes almost pleading. “At least this way you have someone who can fix you when you break…?”  

He should be mad about that. He really should. “It’s fine,” he muttered instead, looking away from the star on that bare chest - how was he possibly so muscular under that short shirt? - and managing to extract one hand from the bedcovers long enough to briefly acknowledge the alchemist’s gesture. Might as well be polite to the guy that had fixed his leg. Who knew if he’d need his help again.

“I am given to understand that you do not lightly reveal your true nature, but rest assured, I have no reason to disseminate such information,” the… the homunculus stated. “Indeed, the Traveler approached me because he knew I would understand exactly why you would be hesitant about it, being in the same position myself. I have many confidential projects already, so I will simply treat our interactions here the same way.”

The puppet grimaced, sitting up. “I said it’s fine, already. I can tell just from the fact that my leg feels relatively normal again that you didn’t fuck anything up too badly, which is honestly more than I was expecting from anyone.”

“Ah, yes,” Albedo said, reaching over to pull aside the cover on that side, “Let me show you how it looks.”  He pointed to the upper thigh, just below the end of his body suit, where the gash was now mostly closed, and Aether leaned in over the bed to take a look himself. “I suspect it won’t scar, considering all I did was repair the bone, and left the rest to your natural healing tendencies. It was unfortunate that your body’s attempts to repair itself continued even while the leg was completely broken, as I needed to take some drastic measures to stop it from healing right through the gap and preventing the necessary work. But, in the end I was able to use a small sample of your bone material to create a substance that would bind the two halves together, and that should once fully set and cured be indistinguishable from the original.” 

The alchemist replaced the covers and folded his arms thoughtfully, cocking his head at Kazeharu. “However, as I am unfamiliar with the properties of the substance, I am unsure how long that will take exactly. I made an extra sample for reference, so until I can confirm that it has fully hardened, you will need to be very careful with that leg.”  

One hand rose to the man’s chin in thought as he said in a quieter, contemplative tone, “If it were to break again, I would need to cut into it to repair the bone, and that would be unpleasant for both of us, considering Iviathe mentioned you are unable to process medicinal or toxic substances.”

“It’s not that I can’t process them, it’s just that it’s all the same kind of energy to me in the end,” Kazeharu said, shrugging. “But you’re right, I’d prefer not to deal with any extra nonsense like that, high pain tolerance or not.”

Albedo nodded, clearly expecting that answer. “You will need to avoid combat, running, jumping, and anything else that might stress the bone while it sets.  You could simply stay in bed, but should you desire to move about, I can fashion you a brace.”

The wanderer made a face. “Like hell I’m staying in bed. Worst comes to worst I’ll just float around like a less hungry Paimon.”

There was a suppressed snort from Aether’s direction, but his face was carefully composed by the time the other two men looked at him.

“What?” He said innocently, blinking those too-pretty eyes of his at them. Kazeharu threw the pillow at him in reply, scowling. The other man caught it easily.

“Put your damn shirt back on, asshole.”

“Can’t, sorry. It’s actually in pretty bad shape.”

He rolled his eyes. “So put a different shirt on.”

Aether raised an eyebrow at him, hand on his hip. “What makes you think I have more than one shirt?  I’m just a poor, broke traveler.”

“Poor, broke traveler my ass. I’ve seen how much you get paid for commissions.”

The traveler laughed. “Fair, but I really do only have one shirt.  It’s the only one that will - never mind. I suppose it doesn’t really matter anymore.”

“Anyway,” Aether said, tossing the pillow gently back on the bed and clearly trying to change the subject, “I’ll let you get dressed and figure out the details of that brace with Albedo.”

Albedo had stepped over to the bench with the medical equipment and picked up a sketchbook as they spoke; now he turned to Aether as he slipped out the door and said, “Be careful with those stitches, Iviathe. Don’t take them out until the cuts have actually closed.”

The traveler paused to raise a hand in acknowledgment. “Thanks, Bedo. I’ll be downstairs.” The door clicked shut behind him.

The alchemist turned back to Kazeharu, pencil drawing swift strokes onto the page. “The brace I have in mind is a simple affair, designed to sit under clothing, with straps to hold it in place. Were you a human, I would warn you about pulling it too tight and cutting off blood flow, but having inspected your design firsthand I am reasonably certain that will not be an issue.” He looked up from the page, gesturing with the pencil. “So, I will merely warn you not to ignore it should it become uncomfortable to wear - at that point, it would be reasonable to loosen it and take a break.”

He looked back at the page, making a few last strokes before setting it down on the bed. The puppet got a brief glimpse of the drawing before Albedo gestured and the brace materialized from the page as if it had always existed. Kazeharu gaped at the impossible thing in surprise. “The hell kind of alchemy is that? Damn. That’s impressive.”

“It is an application of the Art of Khemia, nothing more. Allow me to show you how the brace works.”

The puppet would much rather have seen more of this alchemist’s power, but understood that that was not being offered to him. Instead, he watched as Albedo slipped the brace on, pointing out where exactly it should sit on his leg and tightening the straps to hold it in place. He offered an arm for his patient to lean on as he stood, gingerly testing the strength of the repaired leg. Strong enough for balance, but any attempt to put weight on it brought back an echo of that nauseous pain, as though it would snap again at any time.

“Don’t put weight on it yet, then,” the alchemist said. “You may use it for balance, but be cautious with it. It may well be more efficient for you to float as you indicated earlier, if that is truly an option. However, be cautious not to drain too much of your energy doing so, as dropping from the air would be just as detrimental to your recovery.” 

Kazeharu huffed in annoyance, but nodded. He had no desire to test either of those scenarios. “I believe that is all I can do at this point in time,” Albedo said, as calm as ever. “Rest assured I will contact the Traveler once I have a better understanding of the material’s properties. Perhaps at that point in time we will have a chance for further conversation, so I will look forward to it.” 

Satisfied that his patient understood what was necessary, he gave a slight bow, gathered his things and exited the room as well.

That left the puppet to look around the room in silence. It was quite plain, the dark wood bench and the matching bed and its pale purple bedcover being the only furniture in the room. His hat was leaned up against the wall, none the worse for wear for its adventure, but his folded clothes nearby were a different story, clearly ripped and torn. With a start, he realized the only thing he was wearing was his sheer body suit - not that there was anything really to see, aside from the elemental markings decorating his skin. 

Fortunately for his sense of shame, Albedo hadn’t seemed to care at all. He carefully shuffled over to the pile of clothing by sliding one foot awkwardly after the other, then realized as he stood over it and stared down that bending over to get them might be out of his capability at the moment.

Tch. At least when the Do- the Fatui had repaired him, he hadn’t woken up until after it was completely finished. This was going to be annoying.

He’d managed to put his shorts on, after expending a great deal of effort. He decided that was good enough for now, as long as he had something to carry his vision. He’d been half joking when he suggested floating with it, but if just getting dressed was going to be this difficult, he’d actually do it.

Kazeharu called just the barest ghost of anemo, enough to lift him and cushion his bad leg, and then he let himself out into the corridor - which proved to be more of a balcony surrounding a huge room. Couches sat underneath the windows on thick woven rugs, and more sat below in the center of the room, on either side of a small table set for tea. The traveler was seated on one of them, cup in hand. Still topless, but it appeared he’d made an attempt, wearing a wide scarf draped around his shoulders that covered almost as much of his chest as his shirt normally did.  Albedo was nowhere to be seen - perhaps he’d already left.

The wanderer eased his way over to the nearest set of stairs, cautiously floating down them so as not to bump anything. The traveler didn’t look at him as he crossed the floor and gingerly sat down on the couch opposite him, merely continued sipping his tea.

The puppet broke the uncomfortable silence. “How long was I out?”

“Three days,” the other man said, pouring a second cup of tea and sliding it across the table, still avoiding his gaze. “Enough time to find Albedo and alert Nahida. She was quite concerned for you.”

“Ah,” he said, a little guiltily. “I didn’t think of that…”

“So,” Aether said, finally looking up at him, gentle eyes at odds with the stern expression on his face.

Kazeharu looked into those eyes and knew this was a mistake.

“Actually,” he said, hastily summoning anemo and standing back up, “maybe I should go try again to put the rest of my clothes on, it can’t be that hard, I’ll just take this cup with me-”

“Sit down,” Aether said, firmly.  His expression hadn’t changed, those amber eyes as gentle as before, but the authoritative tone in his voice said he wasn’t going to be taking any of Kazeharu’s nonsense right then.

He sat.

“You should know that Paimon is extremely upset,” the traveler informed him flatly. “She’s cried herself to sleep every day you were unconscious, because she thinks it’s her fault you were hurt. I haven’t been able to persuade her otherwise, despite me being the one to agree to no shields. You’re going to have to talk to her when she wakes up today.”

“I’m not going to force you to apologize, or anything like that,” Aether said to Kazeharu’s growing scowl, setting down his cup, “but she needs to know that you don’t blame her. It’s not like I don’t understand the temptation to give into suicidal impulses like that-”

“You?” Kazeharu said bitterly, “Understand me? You’re some kind of - of perfect saint, don’t kid yourself thinking you could ever possibly understand what I’m going through.”

“Saint??” And Aether threw his head back and laughed. Ragged, pained laughter, that reminded Kazeharu uncomfortably of his own when he was still the Balladeer. It almost sounded like he was crying. This was not the laughter of a man who had never thought about killing himself.

Finally, his head dropped back down, and he propped his arms on his knees, gazing up at the wanderer through the fringes of his messy golden hair. “I’m no saint,” he whispered, eyes shadowed. “You know I’m not even human. I’ve killed just as many people as you have no matter how hard I’ve tried not to, and I’ve nearly broken every nation I’ve traveled to here, despite all my efforts to not get involved. All I wanted was to find my sister, and with every country I travel to and every piece of strength that I recover it becomes harder and harder not to leave behind countless collateral casualties in my wake. I’m terrified of what might happen the day I recover my full strength, if I’m still being forced to fight gods and tame monsters here.”

Kazeharu blinked in surprise, cup halfway to his mouth and forgotten. “…You weren’t fighting me at your full strength, back in Sumeru?” He remembered how easily the traveler had caught Shouki no Kami’s massive hand, the floor giving way before he ever did under such immense pressure.

Aether shook his head. “Half, maybe. Less. If we hadn’t been near-starved from the journey across the void, we would have stood a chance when we arrived here. Instead, my sister was taken, my wings torn from my back, and my powers sealed. Sure, I survived the fall to the ground, but it took me five hundred years to wake up after the impact because there was almost nothing left of me to wake.” 

He sighed, running one hand through his hair in frustration. “I was completely powerless until I attuned with anemo - but that, that cracked the seal. I may not be used to the elements being separated here in Teyvat, but I can definitely feel the crack in the seal widen with each one I attune to. It’s only a matter of time before it breaks, and this time I won’t be drained of light. It will be beyond dangerous for mortals to be near me if I’m fighting - maybe even if I’m not - and I can’t help but wonder if it wouldn’t be better for me to just not be around by that point.” His voice was barely audible, now. “One way or another.”

They were both silent, and Kazeharu took a last sip from his cooling tea to give him a chance to organize his thoughts. His wings. That confirmed what the puppet had seen back in the room when he woke. “I knew you weren’t exactly human,” he started slowly, “having come from beyond the world, but I thought you were at least similar… with what you just described it almost sounds like you’re not even mortal.”

“I’m not.”

He narrowed his eyes at the other man. “Are you a god, then?” He’d met enough gods for twenty lifetimes, he wasn’t sure he could handle even one more.

“No.” Aether was emphatic. “God implies… a relationship. Followers and devotion. Faith. Strength derived from worship. That’s not… that’s not what I am. I’m a wandering star that fell from the sky, that’s all.”

“And yet,” the puppet mused quietly, turning his now-empty cup in his hands, staring at the dregs as though they held unfathomable secrets, “you have followers now. People that have faith in The Traveler.”

The other man looked seriously disturbed by the implications of that. “They might as well put their faith in a dead god like Deshret for all the good it will do. Neither of us can reciprocate.”

Kazeharu cocked his head inquisitively. “You may not be able to feel their faith, but when they trusted you to fight for them, you still answered, didn’t you?”

“I’m not a god.”

“Well, neither am I,” the puppet said with a smirk, spreading his arms dramatically. “So I guess we have something in common after all.”

Aether stared at him blankly for a moment, and then his bleak demeanor cracked. “Pffft…”

“Oh good, you’re still capable of emotion,” Kazeharu said, “I was starting to get worried there with how stiff your dumb face was.”

“Listen,” he continued, serious now. “I know I fucked up back there, I admit it, and I’ve got the injuries to show for my trouble - but if I’m not allowed to be suicidal with all I’ve done, you’re not either. You may have killed a lot of people, but I know you by now, and you’re usually doing it because you’re trying to help someone like the goody two-shoes you are.” He leveled a finger at the other’s face. “So, how about we make a deal. Neither of us lets the other kill themselves. You’ve already been doing it for me, so I’ll drag you back from the brink kicking and screaming if I have to, because I know damn well you’re a better person than I am.”

Aether quirked an eyebrow at him. “What if I don’t agree to this deal?”

“Too late!” The puppet threw up his hands in mock insolence. “You signed up for it when you decided to give me your name, Aether.”

The other eyebrow joined the first. “I don’t remember that part.”

“I’m sure Buer could refresh your memory.”

Amusement. “Is that a threat?”

Kazeharu narrowed his eyes at the traveler. “Only if she doesn’t already know everything.”

The traveler sighed, pushing his hair back. “You’re terrible, you know that?” It was a silent acknowledgment that the wanderer had won.

The smirk was back. “Yes, I am.”

“You still have to talk to Paimon, though.”

The wanderer clicked his tongue in annoyance, but didn’t argue. Instead, he leaned over and poured himself more tea. It wasn’t a terrible brew, at least.

Chapter Text

“That was essentially the Doctor’s reasoning, yes. He also intimated that you might be considered an intelligence threat to them, now that you’ve lost your power and freedom while holding such a high rank. As such, it would not be surprising should they decide to eliminate you. However,” she continued, spreading her small hands in supplication, “as you are currently in my custody, and I am not fond of causing or permitting unnecessary harm to living things, I thought perhaps I could offer you my protection, in exchange for your cooperation in some small matters.”

The silence in the room is deafening. Then, finally, so quietly that it could almost have been mistaken for a sigh instead of a grudging concession:

“I’ll think about it,” he says.

With the awkward tension in the air gone, the traveler drained his own cup of tea and declared that he was going to make pancakes for Paimon. The smell would almost certainly wake her up, and she’d also be far more reasonable if she had food to appease her.

“How come you had Albedo stitch those up?” The wanderer asked, watching Aether rummaging around in the little kitchen underneath the staircase, noting the injuries on the other man’s back again as the scarf shifted over them with his movements. “I remember you healing nearly as fast as I do, normally.”

The man shrugged. “Ah, well, I don’t recover as easily without sunlight.”

Kazeharu’s brows furrowed in pure confusion. Then he gestured at the morning light streaming in through the windows with open hands, as if to say, so what the fuck is that then?

Aether gave the windows a brief glance before returning to pulling things out of the cupboard. “It’s not real. This is just my domain, after all. I could make it night right now if I wanted, but I prefer to match it to the area I’m in. Just makes things easier.”

“So, what,” the wanderer said, processing the comment, “you’re telling me you haven’t left your domain this entire time?”

Golden eyes flickered towards the indigo ones regarding him impassively over the rim of a teacup. “Should I have?” He seemed genuinely confused by the question.

“I mean, yeah,” Kazeharu gestured with one hand towards the injuries, “if you’d heal faster it would make sense to, you know, go heal. Get it over with.”

“They’re not that bad,” the traveler said, pulling out one last oversized blue ceramic mixing bowl. “Besides, someone had to keep an eye on you while you were out, might as well be the other person that needs to recover, right?”

The puppet squinted at him, skeptical. “They required stitches and they’re ‘not that bad’?”

Aether set down the bowl on the counter with a click, just slightly more forcefully than necessary.  After a moment, he said, voice carefully neutral, “…I might have made them worse by ignoring them before Bedo got here. They didn’t need stitches originally.”

The wanderer rolled his eyes as the blonde determinedly ignored the exasperated expression aimed directly at him from the couch in the middle of the room. Typical hypocritical self-sacrificial stupidity.

The conversation drifted to a halt as the traveler focused on measuring and mixing. There was nothing really Kazeharu could do, other than sip his tea and watch. Although, when he thought about it there was one thing he could do while immobilized on a couch. He concentrated and reached out to that now-familiar presence looming underneath his thoughts; reached out through the spreading branches of Irminsul until he felt the mind he was looking for. 

Buer.

Kazeharu, she replied immediately. He felt the relief that flooded her consciousness as she spoke. I understand you had a small crisis. It’s good to see you pulled through.

It was a stupid, shitty impulse. And now I’m stuck with this ghastly broken leg until it sets. Looks like I won’t be able to run errands for you for a little bit.

Kazeharu… he could almost hear the sigh she made, all the way over in the sanctuary. This was the part where she was going to tell him how disappointed she was in him, that he should do better, blah blah blah. He readied his snarkiest replies.

You don’t need an excuse to talk to people, you know, Buer said.

What?

It’s only natural to want to seek support from your social network after a difficult or traumatic event, she said, bubbling fondness and amusement rising through her thoughts. And in truth, I’m glad you reached out to me without my prompting. I’ll always do my best to support you however I can, whatever the circumstances. Recovery is always a rocky road, and I’m proud that you’ve done so well thus far, especially accepting Aether’s help for this hurdle without complaint.

That’s not what this is about, Buer! He snapped back, embarrassed. I’m not looking for comfort or anything sentimental like that.

Oh, it’s not, is it? And you also aren’t going to ask me how you should approach your little chat with Paimon either, right?

…No. I’m not. Don’t be stupid. How the hell did she always know these things?

You think rather loudly when something is worrying you, that’s all, Buer said soothingly. It’s hard not to overhear sometimes, when we’re connected.

Ugh. Betrayed by the inside of his own head.

It’s just because I’m me, Kazeharu. He could almost picture her twining her fingers together to provide a support for her dainty chin as she spoke, innocent eyes wide and staring straight into his stunted little puppet soul. I am, after all, the god of wisdom - my connection to those I speak with is deeper than anyone else can manage. Your thoughts are safe from everyone else, even when talking like this.

Now, she continued, I suspect that you won’t need to broach the topic yourself. Paimon’s not one to sulk in silence. All you really need to do is listen to what she says, and respond honestly. Honesty is the basis for any relationship, after all.

He choked on his tea at that, drawing a curious glance from Aether as he wheezed awkwardly. Pretending he needed to breathe could be damnably inconvenient at times. Are you seriously advocating me telling a small child - floating and possibly divine or not - that I tried to kill myself? I think the Traveler might finish the job himself if I did that. He’s practically adopted the little terror.

Not at all, Buer said. That is certainly a part of the truth, but there is also the part where you didn’t intend to hurt anyone, or consider the consequences. The part where you were distracted by your own thoughts, and the part where you made a mistake. You can tell her the things that are important for her to know without being needlessly cruel. Honesty is not always about the facts, but the reasons behind them. The soil that a flower grows in may merely be dirt at first glance, but the beautiful blooms that it nourishes are still derived from that source.

He was silent for a moment, just feeling the connection between their minds flow and settle. You always say the weirdest shit, Buer.

A tiny mental giggle. I hope it helps anyway, she said. On a different note, I heard your robes didn’t fare very well during your fight, so I took the liberty of ordering a few duplicates for you. Are you interested in any other outfits or colors, while I’m thinking about it?

…There’s no need. I find I don’t hate the blue too much. Maybe she really was trying to dress him up.

Oh good! she said. He could feel the delight oozing from her thoughts. I’m glad you like them, I think they’re quite lovely on you.

I didn’t say - no, I’m done talking with you. Get out of my head, Buer. He thought it at her as viciously as he could.

Her presence withdrew from his mind with another gentle giggle and a fond murmur. Have a good day, Kazeharu.

It was fairly clear he’d managed to lose that exchange.

He turned his attention back to the kitchen instead of thinking about it. Aether was heating up a pan now, tilting it this way and that so a thin layer of slowly warming oil coated the bottom evenly. A second pan, then a third pan followed, and he realized the other man was humming softly as he juggled balancing the pans and pouring from the bowls and utensils, clearly enjoying himself. He caught the occasional word or phrase slipped in with the drifting melody, the voice warm and breathy as it pronounced syllables of liquid sunlight, unlike any language he’d ever heard on Teyvat.

Had the man forgotten he had an audience? Kazeharu couldn’t say he minded at all, as he rested his chin on one hand to listen - it was a fascinating glimpse at the real person hiding beneath the impenetrable veil of the vaunted traveler. The person that missed his only family so desperately and ached with an intense unanswered loneliness, the person that was so afraid of losing control of his growing power, of hurting the people that believed in him, the person that worried so genuinely for the frail little mortal lives that had been entrusted to him. The puppet didn’t understand how he, an immortal himself, could care so easily. How he could accept that responsibility even for those he had never met.

He had to wonder how many people had ever heard the traveler sing like this.

Did he do this every time he cooked? Or was it simply that he was at ease in his own home right now? At ease with a former enemy at his back - how reckless of him. Not that he had any intention of attacking, but it wasn’t wise to let down your guard that easily, injured opponent or not. Fingers tapped at his cheek as he debated telling the traveler exactly what he thought about that lack of caution - but if he did that, he’d interrupt. Unacceptable.

Perhaps, if he just quietly removed himself from the room, went up the stairs so he wasn’t directly behind the other man, that nagging feeling that the humming blonde was much too vulnerable while far too near to him right now would disappear.

That would work, he decided, and without thinking moved to stand, only to be reminded by a sharp jolt of pain that he was still hurt. The sharp hiss that escaped his mouth was loud enough to catch the traveler’s attention, and he turned to see Kazeharu clutching his leg with a grimace.

“You okay?” the other man asked, frowning, pan held out forgotten in one hand. “That didn’t sound pleasant. Did you try to stand up or something?”

“I… was just thinking,” how much I liked your singing, “I could start repairing my clothes if I went back up and got them, that’s all.”

“Why don’t you just stay here where you’re already comfortable?” Concern filled those stupid pretty eyes. Stop looking at me like that. I did this to myself and it’s entirely deserved. “We’ll get them for you so you don’t have to torture yourself, yeah?”

“I can torture myself if I want to,” he muttered under his breath, folding his arms with childish petulance.

“Tubby,” Aether said, ignoring the comment and lifting his head to speak to the air, “Are you busy?” A fine mist coalesced into a rather plump bird like creature comfortably ensconced in what seemed to be a curiously house-shaped teapot. Kazeharu blinked at it in surprise a few times, just to make sure the pain wasn’t messing with his sight.

“Not at all, Master Viathe,” the teapot creature said, “I was simply tending the garden. How may I help?”

“Haru wants to start mending his clothing, but it’s hard for him to walk around right now. Do you think you could go fetch them from his room and grab some sewing supplies?”

“Oh?” The head swiveled to look at Kazeharu. “Ah, I see your Master Niwa is finally awake! Good morning, sir,” it chirped enthusiastically, “I’d be delighted to be of assistance.”

The bird creature gave an impressively convincing impression of bustling about cheerfully, despite merely floating across the room and up the stairs. It took less than a minute for it to fetch first his clothes and a sewing kit, then it insisted on brewing him a fresh pot of tea afterward, all while commenting about just how much better he looked, now that he was up and about.

“I must be getting back to the garden,” it finally said, cheerfully, “but first, will you be staying long, Master Niwa? If so, rest assured that you can count on me to assist you in whatever fashion you might need while you are recuperating.”

Staying? Was that even an option? “I don’t know,” he said, as the curious creature dissolved back into mist. “I’m sure the master of the house won’t want me limping around underfoot and getting in the way for too long.”

“Eh,” Aether said, slipping another pancake onto the stack growing on the first plate, “I’m not using that room for anything, so it’s no skin off my back if you want to take it for a bit. The less you have to move, the better, right?”

Kazeharu made a noncommittal noise, pretending to be occupied with the tears in his haori. That was probably true, but he also didn’t want to be trapped inside a domain controlled by his former archenemy for any length of time, improving relations or no.

The second and third plates of pancakes were nearly full now as well. “Should be just about a strong enough lure by now to wake the little layabout,” the traveler commented, casually flipping yet another half-cooked pancake with one hand before setting it down and picking up the next pan. He was right, the smell of sizzling oil and fresh-cooked pancakes nearly saturated the air now, thick enough to have drifted past the closed doors of the other rooms in the house. 

As if on cue, an eager voice piped up from the hallway. “Paimon smells pancakes!” The tiny figure darted out of the furthest room and made a beeline for the kitchen with silver hair still tangled and unruly from sleep, before halting abruptly in midair, eyes nearly popping out of her skull as she spotted Kazeharu sitting on the couch, needle in hand.

“YOU!” An accusing finger was pointed directly at him. “AFTER ALL THAT YOU’RE JUST SITTING THERE FINE? PAIMON CAN’T BELIEVE YOU MADE HER WORRY ABOUT A STUPID HORRIBLE STINKY BREEZE IN A DUMB HAT.” 

He choked on his own laughter. “Is that seriously the best ‘ugly nickname’ you’ve come up with,” he wheezed, trying in vain not to break down and just start cackling at the ridiculous pout on her face.

She flew directly over to hover in front of his face, forcing him to lean back slightly so he wouldn’t get hit by one of those clenched fists. “You’d better be sorry, or Paimon will - Paimon will put sugar in all of your favorite teas!”

The wanderer gasped, dropping the needle and clasping his hands to his cheeks in exaggerated horror. “Anything but the tea, Paimon!”

“Woah, hey now, there’s no need to bring food sabotage into this,” the traveler said from the kitchen, flipping another pancake. “It was just a mistake, you know. Everyone makes them.”

“Paimon doesn’t care!” she said, stamping her foot angrily midair. “He deserves to suffer!”

Kazeharu brought out his best sarcastic drawl. “What, not being able to walk for the foreseeable future isn’t suffering enough?”

“Eh?” Paimon spun back around to face him in confusion, and he realized that his battered haori was draped over his lap in such a way that the brace wasn’t visible.

He pulled it to the side to show her. “See? I had to use my vision just to get down the stairs, just ask Aether.”

“Oh,” she said, her face falling. In a very small, very contrite voice, she continued, “Paimon is sorry.” Ah. She did think it was her fault.

“What for?” She might be annoying, but he wasn’t going to blame her for shit she didn’t do, and that included letting her blame herself for shit she didn’t do. He rapped her head gently with his knuckles to get her attention. “It’s my own fault for getting distracted in the middle of a fight like an idiot.”

“…but Paimon dared you not to use a shield,” she said in a tiny voice, her dark, starry eyes suspiciously wet and round. “Paimon triple-dog-dared you.”

He was no good at this stuff. Hell, he didn’t know how to handle this stuff himself, what the fuck was he doing trying to comfort a kid? “I mean, you saw us when we were actually fighting,” he started, “did we really look like we needed shields?”

“W-well no,” Paimon said,  “but, but then you just stood there-!”

“And that’s why,” Aether interrupted firmly, placing a towering stack of pancakes down in front of her with impeccable timing, “we’re going back to using shields now. Just in case someone gets distracted again. Syrup, Paimon?”

He sent up a silent, grateful prayer to no archon in particular for the rescue - definitely not his mother, anybody else, even Barbatos - and another to the braided blonde for good measure. Thank you, Traveler, for your goddamn perfect diversion. He was no good with kids, despite having tried to raise one.

“…and here’s some for you, Haru, I used less honey for your batch.”

Kazeharu stared at the steaming plate that had materialized in front of him. “I know you know I don’t need to eat, right?”

“Ooh!” Paimon’s face lit up from behind her stack of pancakes, already drenched in maple syrup. “If you don’t want them, Paimon will eat them!”

“Absolutely not,” Kazeharu whisked his plate back and to the side protectively, leveling a glare at the little silver-haired pipsqueak. “These are my pancakes, Aether made them for me. Eat your own.”

“Ugh, fine,” she muttered without much venom, diving right back into her own stack and pouring even more syrup on top. 

He couldn’t stop himself from wrinkling his nose in disgust. “That is utterly repulsive. How could you possibly eat that? You can’t even see the pancakes anymore, you might as well be eating straight syrup.”

The little brat stuck her tongue out at him, then poured syrup straight into her mouth while making exaggerated noises of appreciation, all while staring straight at him. “Mmm-mmm, so delicious, maybe I’ll just drink this whole bottle of syrupy sugary goodness while you watch-”

Aether reached over and snagged the bottle by the handle before she could get any more of it on her face and in her mouth. “That’s enough, Paimon, other people want some too,” he said, drizzling a small amount on top of his own pancakes, before placing the bottle back down well out of her reach.

Kazeharu refused to look at her eating that disaster of a dish, instead distracting himself with his own. The pancakes were light and fluffy, a deep golden brown and rich with the taste of several different flours, but there was no hint of the sweetness that he might have expected. He changed the recipe, huh?

It went very well with his tea, the bitterness complementing the savour of the pancakes.

Chapter Text

He had been a god. A god. This entire room is filled with mere insects, barely worthy to even breathe the air around him. And he is absolutely forbidden to even think about killing any of them. Even when they waste his time with idiotic questions or attempts to ‘get to know him better’.

There is nothing to know.

He had been prepared for pain, for slavery and drudgery, for endless well-deserved retribution.

But this…. this ludicrous attempt by Buer to persuade him to make friends? He agreed to work for her, not to academics and socializing. What on Teyvat does she think she is playing at?

These are the thoughts running through his head as he sits, fuming, through yet another spantamad lecture on elemental fundamentals.

He’d grudgingly agreed to stay in the little room off the balcony for a while longer. Once the traveler had offered him a small wooden token that would let him in and out of the domain, the nerve-wracking feeling of being trapped had faded, and he was able to admit (at least privately) that it was probably a good idea. The thought of limping around the sanctuary - let alone the city with all of those potential enemies - while he was recovering and vulnerable was uncomfortable enough to dissuade him, and this way, the alchemist could find him if he wanted to check on his progress or update them about the status of the resin. It didn’t hurt that Aether wasn’t inclined to bother him unnecessarily, leaving him to his own devices when he wasn’t off running errands for the adventurer’s guild or whatever lost soul he’d taken pity on this time.

The teapot spirit, Tubby, had found him a matching shelf from among the traveler’s oddly large stash of furniture for the books he’d stolen from the small library on the first floor, and later, when the traveler appeared with armfuls of duplicate outfits and a spare kasa from Buer, a wardrobe to put them in. Aether had fetched his veil and silks from the sanctuary too, when he’d mentioned them, though they were promptly shoved in the very back of the wardrobe to be forgotten. 

Kazeharu had even slept on the bed occasionally, when he’d grown tired of dragging himself about the immense house and gardens to find things to occupy himself with. He didn’t need to sleep, but it wasn’t a terrible way to pass the time when Buer could drop into his dreams for a chat and an update on the various problems she’d be needing him to handle once he could walk properly again. (That she inevitably did so when his dreams turned in a dark direction was probably not a coincidence. He hadn’t been strapped to an exam table once in the last week.) 

The day he regained his freedom would hopefully be soon, as moving his leg no longer hurt, merely felt unpleasant if he leaned too much weight on it. Albedo’s current hypothesis was that the thickness of the repair was what was causing the excessive delay, and had run some experimental tests where he’d built up very thin layers of the substance and dried each of them before applying more - it seemed much faster than waiting for a singular layer to fully set, but Kazeharu was hoping they wouldn’t have an opportunity to try using the new method any time soon. The alchemist was certainly interested in gathering more live data, but thankfully wasn’t as eager or insistent as - as the Fatui had been.

Other than Albedo, he’d avoided the occasional visitors looking to talk with the traveler, retreating to his room at the first sign of an approaching guest. The teapot spirit would meet them outside the house, taking messages and small gifts or ushering them inside for tea when the visitors wanted to wait for Aether’s return. He grew used to checking out his windows to see if the bird and its teapot was visible again, for the spirit’s return to caring for the expansive gardens spread across the layers of mountains rising from the simulated fog meant that any guests being entertained had finally left the domain.

Thus it took him by complete surprise, when he emerged from his room one day upon spying the familiar floating form back out in the gardens, to discover that the guests were still there around the table in the middle of the entrance hall. Two figures he had only ever seen in confidential Fatui records, the last yaksha, Alatus, and his former master Rex Lapis, seated with Aether around a pot of tea and the partially set up tiles of some game. Three different hues of golden eyes turned towards him, and caught in their gaze he hesitated instead of retreating. 

“Wanderer,” said the owner of the eyes he knew best with a delighted smile, so careful even now not to use his name in front of those he hadn’t given it to yet. “I hadn’t seen you yet today. Would you perhaps like to join us? It’s a four-player game, and Paimon’s not as fond of it.” A carefully worded invitation; he would inconvenience no one if he refused as there would still be four players, but Paimon wouldn’t mind if he saved her from having to play a game she didn’t like.

He hesitated again - he didn’t recognize the game - and Aether said, as persuasively as he could, “I think you’d like the tea we’re trying.”

He wasn’t that easy to manipulate, whatever the traveler thought, but he leaned on the railing and asked, curiously, “What kind of tea?”

It was the god who answered, six thousand years of experience on even the most mundane topics bleeding into his words. “It is a fine-leafed varietal of the ‘flashpowder’ tea plant, with a blend of mint and cinnamon to refresh the palette. It is often drunk with accompanying sweet pastels to cut the bitterness.” The man gestured at the jar held in small greedy hands with the barest hint of a smile and said, “Though I’m afraid you will need to rescue those from Paimon should you desire some.”

A Liyuean tea, then. “I’m not fond of sweets,” Kazeharu said, tempted despite himself. “But I do like tea… What game?”

“Inazuman Mahjong,” Rex Lapis answered.

“Oh,” the wanderer said, an amused smile creeping up his lips as he recognized the name. He shot a look at the traveler. “So this is the game.”

Aether groaned, dropping his face into his hands. “Please, don’t start.” Paimon stifled a laugh of her own with a fist, while the god merely raised a curious eyebrow at their reactions. Well then. This might be an excellent opportunity to needle Aether, and he wasn’t going to pass up the chance when it was handed to him on a silver platter all wrapped up in a bow.

“I think I’ll join you after all,” he said, mischief glinting in his eyes. He hobbled over to the stairs and cautiously eased himself down them with the help of his vision.

The yaksha spoke now, folding his arms and glaring at the puppet. “Are you sure this is wise, Traveler? The effects of karma on mortals is-”

Kazeharu cut him off. “Do I look like a mortal to you, Conquerer of Demons?” He put every ounce of disdain he had into his voice and matched the adeptus glare for glare as he limped his way over to the table. “I assure you, I am not. Save your concern for someone that actually needs it.”

Alatus stiffened in his seat, face frozen between offense and shock that someone would speak to him in such a manner. Rex Lapis merely nodded to himself, as if this confirmed some theory of his. If anyone would recognize the traces of his mother in the puppet, it would be him, and Kazeharu eyed him suspiciously for a brief moment. Aether hissed at him incredulously, “Wanderer! Be polite.”

He plopped himself down on the couch next to Aether, folding his own arms. “He was the one who called me a mortal. Make him be polite.”

“Perhaps we should all introduce ourselves properly, first,” Rex Lapis said, lifting one hand to gesture the other adeptus to stand down, before the tension got worse. “That way no one can offend another out of ignorance.” He performed a small bow and continued, “I am Zhongli, a consultant at the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, and this, as our young friend the Wanderer mentioned, is Xiao, the adeptus also known as the Conquerer of Demons. And of course, we all know the Traveler and Paimon.”

Rex- no, Zhongli, held out a hand to him and said, “And you, Wanderer?” If he didn’t know exactly who had just called him 'young' he’d have been offended again, but decided it wasn’t worth the effort. “Niwa Kazeharu,” he said, after an uncomfortable silence. “I’m… a youkai.” Close enough.

“It is a pleasure to meet you,” the former god said politely, leaning forward and pouring a cup of the promised tea for him, before returning to setting up the game tiles.

He had never played. Such pastimes were for nobility when humans had first found and raised him, and by the time he had gained the status and reputation necessary to have the time for such things, he had been living in Snezhnaya. Zhongli was happy to explain the history of the game along with the rules, describing how it had crossed the ocean from Liyue to Inazuma in the period after the Archon War. Kazeharu made appropriate noises over the tea - it was in fact a blend just to his taste, as Aether had thought, though Aether himself had given in and wrangled the sweets away from Paimon to save his own tongue - and pretended to listen despite not particularly caring where the different variations in rules came from. Xiao remained silent, watching him as though he might be a threat. (He wasn’t exactly wrong.)

From what he understood of the rules Zhongli was laying out, it seemed similar to the card games many had played in the Fatui’s rank and file, collecting various sets of three of a kind or numbered sequences being the major goal. There were obviously far more nuances to it than that, but that was enough for him to feel relatively confident he would at least know what was happening while they played.

He decided he was going to collect all the wind tiles. Just so he could mock Aether with them.

Paimon, despite not wanting to play, ended up hovering over his shoulder, offering questionable advice with each tile he drew. “You should pick that one,” she’d say, pointing at a tile as he tried to decide what to discard. He would immediately pick a different one, just to spite her. She’d caught on immediately to his little game with the wind tiles though, pointing out when he could collect one for his hand, or when it didn’t make sense to hang onto that one last west wind tile, because the other three had already been discarded and he had a full set of the south wind on display already. 

“Such a pity,” he’d sighed, making a show of discarding it in front of Aether. “I’d been hoping to collect all the kazehai, since you like them so much.” 

“I didn’t know that it didn’t mean just wind,” Aether said, face reddening. “I was trying to be helpful!”

Paimon’s mischievous giggle was the only answer he got from their corner, though Zhongli did raise an eyebrow across from them. “I presume there was some misunderstanding related to the translation of wind in Inazuman?”

“And he will never let me forget it,” Aether muttered. “You know neither of these is my first language, Haru, it’s really not that funny.”

“Oh, yes it is,” the wanderer countered, pouring himself another cup of tea. “You were so serious about it, too.” He put on his best doe-eyed expression and imitated the blonde’s voice. “‘This might be stupid, but-’ and then you went ahead and said it anyway.”

“It still helped, didn’t it?”

“That doesn’t make it any less amusing.”

Xiao’s gaze shifted between the two of them as they exchanged jabs, silently judging them, but also relaxing his guard slightly, in a way he hadn’t since the wanderer had stepped outside his room. It seemed he had decided that the puppet wasn’t an immediate threat, based on the comfortable rivalry he was displaying with the traveler. If he had still been a harbinger, it would have been a fatal mistake. But then again, if he had still been a harbinger, the traveler wouldn’t have been talking with him like this in the first place.

He supposed that meant Xiao’s judgment based on the traveler’s behavior was sound enough. How strange, to be judged not by his own harsh words and bitter taunts, but by another’s trust for him. Aether’s trust.

The first game ended in a draw. Zhongli and Kazeharu both needed only one more tile to win, but ran out of tiles to pull first.

The wanderer stabbed a finger at Aether after they all revealed their tiles. “You. You had my hatsu.”

Aether put on his best innocent face, clearly trying to provoke him. “Excuse me, I‘m fairly certain it was my dragon.”

The pure fury on Kazeharu’s face was exactly what Aether was looking for and he couldn’t help himself. He wanted to strangle the other man. “I needed that tile to win! You only had one!”

The blonde rolled his eyes at him, pleased to have gotten a reaction. A tiny piece of revenge for the wind tiles, earlier. “And I needed that tile so you wouldn’t win. Obviously.”

“Wha- No, that doesn’t make sense!” He gestured frantically. He should have won, damn it all! “Why would you hang on to it when you couldn’t win with it in your hand??”

“Playing defensively when one has been dealt a bad hand is in fact a valid strategy,” Zhongli commented calmly, as he gathered the tiles back up for another round. “It is generally much kinder to your score to lose to a draw than to lose by discarding into another’s win. It is much the same as a general ordering a retreat to prevent losses among troops.”

That was an analogy that Kazeharu understood, even though he’d never been the kind of general to care too much about losing what he considered dead weight. “I see,” he said, suddenly composed again, replaying the game in his head with this new viewpoint in mind. “It’s not about losing the battle, but winning the war.”

“Precisely,” the god said. “Just as in combat, it is important to understand what moves not to make in certain situations, as well as what moves are winning strategies.”

“Must be easy for you,” Kazeharu said with a huff, lobbing the offending dragon tile at Aether’s head, “what with your stupid perfect memory.”

“His what?” Xiao said, as Aether ducked. It was the first thing he’d contributed to the conversation since his comment about karma. The adeptus turned sharp eyes to the traveler. “I was unaware your memory was in any way exceptional, Iviathe. Would that not have been useful to know when we were trapped in the chasm?”

“Well, it’s different in a domain like that,” Aether explained, bending to pick up the tile he’d just dodged. “It helps a lot with puzzle mechanisms and traps, but when the space you’re in is literally being warped around you it doesn’t always help to remember what it looked like before everything changed.”

“Ah,” Xiao said, a thoughtful look crossing his face, “I see. Thank you for clarifying.” 

He seemed satisfied with that answer, but the traveler wasn’t done talking. “Do you remember when I asked you to show me your techniques, so I could study them?” The yaksha nodded curtly. “I can’t just see someone battling and copy them perfectly, but if I get the chance to go through every action with someone personally, with my full attention, I can remember them flawlessly. That’s why I only asked to see them once.”

“Flawlessly is right,” Kazeharu muttered, remembering Aether’s imitation of Buer. “It’s downright creepy.”

“I’ll have you know that Master Zhongli’s shields here are the ones that have been saving your ass this whole time, and you should be grateful for them.” Zhongli’s mouth quirked into a smile at those words. So that’s whose mannerisms those were. Interesting.

“Oh, trust me,” Kazeharu said with a grimace, “after this bullshit,” he indicated his broken leg, “I am never complaining about your shields, no matter where you got them.”

“You’d better not,” said Paimon, perched on the back of the couch with another sticky handful of the tea sweets. “Paimon can’t believe you’re somehow even more of a grumpy grouch when you’re hurt, and Paimon never wants to listen to you whine about it again.”

“I do not whine,” he said, haughtily, raising his head to glare at her. “I am utterly above such foolish mortal behavior.”

“You whined.” She wrinkled her nose at him in disgust. “Like a wimp.”

He narrowed his eyes at her and crooked his fingers into claws. “I’ll show you whining, you little twerp-”

“The next round is ready to start,” Zhongli interrupted gently, likely hoping to prevent an all-out brawl. Paimon was lucky he had, or Kazeharu would have wiped that dumb pout off her face without a second’s hesitation.

He lost, of course. But he wasn’t in last place like Xiao, so he counted that as a victory, considering how ruthless Zhongli was.

“The yaksha doesn’t really strike me as the type to enjoy games like this,” Kazeharu said, idly tapping one of the east wind tiles on the table, as they watched the two leave with Paimon eagerly chattering away at them. “How did he end up here?”

“It’s not particularly his thing, no, but if Zhongli asks him he’ll do almost anything. The man’s always making sure sure Xiao takes breaks from his duty and making him medicine for his pain, and I suspect he views Mahjong and tea tasting as another way to help with that.” Aether shrugged, starting to put the tiles away. “It’s become a fairly regular occurrence since the first time, and I don’t mind helping Zhongli pull him out of his shell a little bit.”

When the blonde gestured for the tile he was holding, he stuck his tongue out and slipped it into his sleeve instead, to join the other little trinkets that were slowly accumulating there. He might need to split them between his sleeves if this kept up; at the very least for balance. Aether just rolled his eyes and shook his head in exasperation, not even fighting him for it. Kazeharu was silent for a moment, leaning back against the cushions of the couch, watching him place the other tiles back in their box.

Finally, he spoke. 

“Hey.”

He waited until the traveler looked up at him. “You keep saying how jealous you are of my flight. I know you had wings; I saw the scars. I know you miss it. If you can remember people’s abilities like that, why haven’t you asked for mine?”

Aether looked away and hummed as if he hadn’t heard, carefully avoiding the wanderer’s gaze, picking up tiles one by one and carefully slotting them into their places.

“Come on,” he insisted. “Let me repay you with something, for once, will you?” No response, just more of Aether awkwardly avoiding looking at him.

“Hey.” He poked the other man in the arm, hard.

“Ow.” The traveler jerked his arm away, but finally looked at him again. “Well,” Aether said uncomfortably, rubbing the spot like it actually hurt. “I… didn’t want to bother you, I guess. We - we used to be, you know, not on great terms. I don’t want to overstep my bounds by asking for something you’re not willing to give.”

“I just said I’d be willing to-”

“And you don’t need to repay me for anything,” the other man added hastily. “I know you remember what Nahida keeps saying about transactional relationships. And it’s not like just learning the action of flying would give me the understanding to actually use it effectively. That still requires practice, and time, and by the point I master it I might have broken my seal already and found a way to regrow my own wings, and then it wouldn’t matter anymore.”

The speed at which all of that tumbled out of Aether’s mouth left Kazeharu feeling like he was missing something. “You’re fine with feeding me food I don’t even need and lending me a bed I don’t actually use, but letting me repay you for even some of it by teaching you an ability you desperately want and miss is where you draw the line?”

“It’s not - I don’t -” the blonde threw up his hands in frustration, not able to properly form the thought into a coherent statement. He started again. “It’s honestly enough, just seeing you fly and how much you enjoy it.”

Kazeharu squinted at him suspiciously. He could tell that there was something off about the whole conversation. “Wait,” he said slowly, realization dawning in his mind as he searched the traveler’s increasingly sheepish face. “Don’t tell me. You somehow feel like you don’t deserve to be able to fly again.”

There was a very long silence, as Aether turned the last tile over and over between his fingers. Finally, the traveler admitted, “Lumine can’t fly either, right now. I could tell, when I saw her.”

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Lumine…?”

Then it clicked. Oh. Another tie in the familial knot that Aether was building around him, whether he wanted it or not. Another name that almost no one knew. “Your sister.”

The blonde nodded. “I just… I don’t know. It wouldn’t feel right, to fly without her.”

“So you don’t want to learn a new way to fly because the sibling that abandoned you before you even found her again wouldn’t be able to join you, when she clearly has no intention of joining you in the foreseeable future for anything anyway.” Kazeharu folded his arms, letting the sarcasm drip from his words. “That sounds like a her problem, not yours.”

Aether shrugged, bemused and a little bit embarrassed. “Immortality doesn’t make emotions any more logical than mortality does, I guess?” It came out like a question, as if he was uncertain of the value of the statement.

“You’re an idiot,” the wanderer said flatly. “Once Albedo gives me the all-clear, I’m beating this shit into your head, and then I’m kicking your ass until you get it right.”

The traveler huffed out a tiny laugh, and turned a smile towards him that Kazeharu had never seen on his face before. It was similar to the one he wore when Paimon fell asleep in his arms after a long, hard day, but this one was directed at him instead. It was… strangely uplifting. 

He almost smiled himself.

“…Thank you,” Aether said, still smiling.

“Don’t thank me,” he said, looking anywhere but the weirdly confusing smile on the other’s face. “I’m just tired of seeing that stupid woe-is-me look on your face, that’s all. Don’t go thinking too much of it.”

“I won’t.” The smile stayed.

Chapter Text

So far, the classes are useless. He only agreed in the first place because he thought perhaps something in them might help with his stupid, contrary vision. Learning about the exact nature of the reaction between hydro and dendro certainly isn’t doing that.

He doesn’t bother to copy down the diagram the professor is drawing on the chalkboard. There is no point in such unnecessary things. For one, he already knows everything he needs about reactions, and for another, neither element is one he uses, and the most Buer has him doing outside of classes is relaying her orders. No vision necessary for that. 

“Any discomfort with the brace removed?” Albedo asked, gently rotating the leg and checking the shifting artificial muscles for anything out of place.

“Nothing,” Kazeharu said, watching the alchemist calmly manipulate each muscle and joint in turn, fingers coolly professional against his synthetic skin. It was an oddly intimate interaction, allowing this once-stranger such free access to his body, trusting that he would not violate boundaries but respect them. That he would do only what was necessary for his examination of the healed injury.

The chasm between this man and the last who had handled him in such a fashion was a yawning abyss, their behavior so utterly different despite their similar intense obsessive research and thirst for knowledge. He could catalogue every slight difference in their actions, how Albedo would take note of something that intrigued him during his exam to simply ask about later when his current task was finished, where Do- Dottore. He would get used to saying it. Buer said it would help, to name the thing he feared and define it rather than leave it vague and immense in its occupation of the dark corners of his mind. He hated to admit it but she was usually right about these things.

Dottore would immediately test any new theory, digging painful fingers into his limbs with no care for his comfort. He would press and pull and slice to get what he wanted, and Albedo instead sat calmly with his hands merely guiding his leg into the position he needed to check a particular function.

He still flinched, when hands touched his skin; at the sight of a scalpel, at the mention of an examination. Those first visits to assess his leg’s condition after he woke had been hell, even with Buer’s calming presence in his mind and Aether guarding the door to reassure him that this wouldn’t end the same way it always did - half-conscious with another batch of vaguely unsettling memories at best. Albedo had said nothing, no words of recrimination or impatience, merely held still and calmly waited for him to cautiously place his limbs back in the alchemist’s care each time, continuing as if Kazeharu hadn’t just let his stupid emotions - his trauma, as Buer called it - rule him for a moment.

He didn’t know what he’d have done if he’d actually woken up with hands on him the first time. There was a reason Dottore had always restrained him.

“I think we can officially designate this as a successful repair,” Albedo said, interrupting his thoughts and letting go of his leg. “I’m quite pleased with the result, though I must say I have gathered a surplus of notes to refine the process should there be another opportunity to test it.” He stood up, gathering his sketchbook and tapping his pen against his lip in thought. “There is still a non-zero chance that the length of the recovery could have impacted the final durability of the repair, since there was such a long period in which things could have shifted, even slightly. I would recommend caution with it initially, at least until you are satisfied that it will hold up as it should.”

“Got it,” Kazeharu said dryly. “I’ll make sure to stomp on my enemies with the other foot.”

“Yes, I would say that seems advisable, should the action be necessary,” the alchemist said, with that hint of humor that the wanderer had learned was his equivalent of a laugh. He tilted his head, sea-green eyes catching the puppet’s own. “I must say, I have enjoyed the opportunity to interact with another artificial life similar to myself. It is a shame we will not have too many more opportunities to interact after this, since we work in different countries, but we all have responsibilities.”

Kazeharu shrugged, a wry smile crossing his lips. It was unfortunately true. “Yeah, Buer’s told me I have a bunch of shit to catch up on now. I’ll be busy for a bit.” I owe her too much to back out on any of that.

Albedo nodded, as calm as ever. “I would have liked to introduce you to Dorian before we parted ways, but he is currently settling into his new life and does not have the time to leave right now. However, should you chance to be in Mondstadt for any of your assignments, please do consider stopping by my workshop in Dragonspine,” he said with a short, formal bow. “It would be my pleasure to host you.”

He hesitated, then awkwardly offered his own abbreviated Inazuman bow. “I’ll think about it.”

Freedom.

The sky was his again.

Admittedly they were still inside Aether’s domain, with its simulated clouds and wind and sunshine, but it was still a heady thrill to dart through the air at full speed again, racing back and forth just to feel it whip past his face, looping around the tallest mountain and between the branches of its clinging trees before diving straight back down to the ground below, halting a hairs breadth from the dirt in a rush of wind and power. Seconds later he was off again, not waiting for Aether to catch up, relishing in the sheer unleashed energy thrumming through him. 

He had offered to carry Aether straight to the mountainside clearing marked out for training, but the man had declined, saying he wanted to check his vegetable plots on the way. So, instead, he ambled along below him with Paimon at his side, examining leaves for signs of rot, or infestation, kneeling down to check roots for parasitic fungi. Kazeharu’d asked why the man would let such things into his domain, when he could just keep everything out that was harmful, and he’d received the reply that it wasn’t always intentional - sometimes they’d bring back accidental hitchhikers from their expeditions outside, so it was more a cautionary measure than anything else.

“Couldn’t the spirit take care of it?” he’d asked, annoyed that they couldn’t just get started.

“It does, usually,” the blonde had said with a smile, “but there’s no harm in me checking them too. I don’t always have the chance to take care of them myself and I enjoy it. Plus, it’s simply adorable to watch Paimon counting the spots on the ladybugs she finds - I always look forward to spending some time in the garden with her.”

Sure enough, any time he paused to look down, the little nuisance would be cradling one or more of the bright red insects in her palms, chattering excitedly to Aether about them. He’d never admit it, but the fond smile the traveler wore when Paimon was like this reminded him of Niwa, smiling down at him as he learned to sew, or cook, or forge a simple ingot. He could watch them like that forever. (But what would happen when the traveler, inevitably, left Teyvat? Left Paimon? He tried not to think about it. Surely he wouldn’t just abandon her - would he? Perhaps he would store her in his house like another of his useless trinkets while he crossed the sea of stars in search of new worlds. Though that would still leave her alone inside the domain, waiting for the journey to be over…)

He realized, abruptly, that he was simply hovering in one spot in the air and had been for some time, staring at the two of them. Oops. Fortunately, they didn’t seem to have noticed, occupied with whatever the traveler was telling Paimon about the leaf he he was holding gently in his hands, careful not to pull it from the plant as he traced some pattern on it with a finger for her to watch. He couldn’t make out the words from here, despite his inhuman hearing, but it was the same tone of voice he’d used when teaching Kazeharu about anemo. Soothing, confident, pausing to let her trace the leaf with her own fingers before continuing.

He was going to be a shit teacher compared to Aether.

He ran his hands through his hair in frustration at the thought, thin dark locks falling right back into his face as he folded his arms afterward, still watching the two conversing below him. Sure, it would be easy enough for the man to imitate the base techniques, but it was far more complicated than that. Kazeharu hated to admit this, but he’d fallen out of the sky more than once because he’d misjudged the temperature of the air he was flying into, or because he’d run into an unexpected cross-wind. Maybe those were problems Aether was familiar with just due to having had wings, but dealing with it as an anemo user was sure to be different, and he’d had time to figure some of those tricks out already; that you could feel the winds that would take you where you wanted to go, pass through the others untouched with just a little extra power spun the right way.

The tranquil air here in Aether’s domain was gentle and kind, but the winds outside could be mischievous, contrary, or just downright vicious. Flying out there could be interesting, to say the least, and he’d be damned if he didn’t at least try to tell the traveler what he’d found out about how it worked.

They did eventually make it to the training area, despite all the (in Kazeharu’s opinion) unnecessary detours. 

“Okay, dumbass,” he growled over his folded arms, annoyed at having to land at all. “How do we do this? Do I just take off while you watch me or do you have to do some special bullshit memory stare or something?”

Aether laughed at him. “No, no, nothing special. I only need to see the actual technique once, but for more complicated techniques it can be helpful to see it from multiple angles. That halo you summon, for instance - the way you manipulate it as you move through the air makes it a very intricate and meticulous thing to replicate. I already know I’m going to have to watch you at least go through the various configurations you use with it separately.” He shrugged, a little embarrassed. “There’s been some techniques that I’ve mostly picked up on just by fighting frequently with someone, but this is definitely not one.”

“Wait,” he said, narrowing his eyes at the traveler. “Does that mean you already tried it?”

“He lifted an inch off the ground and fell flat on his face,” Paimon confirmed, lifting her head from where she had flopped onto the grass to play with a snail. Aether’s head whipped around to stare at her in betrayed disbelief, face reddening. 

“Paimon!”

He couldn’t help himself; the mental image was too much, and he burst out laughing. “You- you’d rather try it yourself and fail miserably rather than ask my help?”

“It’s not funny,” the blonde said, ruefully.

“No, it’s not funny, it’s hilarious. Tell me, did your arms windmill through the air as you fell? Did you curse when you hit the ground?” He couldn’t keep the sheer glee off his face as he imagined it. “Is that why your face was all red when you came back yesterday?”

Aether groaned, tipping his head back in embarrassment and covering it with his hands. “I just wanted to try it in case Albedo said you still had to wait longer today-”

He leaned in with a smirk, hands on his hips. “Getting impatient, were you? Couldn’t wait one more day? How childish.”

The blonde folded his arms in a huff. “Says the man who carries a little doll under his hat when he thinks no one is looking.”

Ouch. That one actually hurt, and the traveler seemed to sense it from the way the puppet stilled, no longer smiling. He stared at the other man with hurt eyes. Was it really childish to carry a child’s toy in remembrance of a child that never grew up?

“…Sorry,” Aether said, looking down, breaking the awkward silence. “That was too far. I know what it means to you.”

“…It’s fine,” he muttered, reaching for the brim of a hat he wasn’t wearing. He wouldn’t cry. He wouldn’t. “Lets get this over with, then,” he said, changing the subject. “You’d better be watching carefully, because I have shit to do.”

The traveler seized on the opportunity to drop it, nodding gratefully and gesturing for Kazeharu to continue. Taking off was the easy part, but even still, he tried to do it methodically, simply hovering in place after he did.

“I’d like to watch your halo as it forms,” Aether said, walking around the floating puppet and examining his stance. “Can you do it one more time?”

He rolled his eyes, but dropped back to the ground, this time turning away from the other man before lifting back into the air.

“Perfect,” he heard the blonde mutter, and he smiled. He was perfect, and he wouldn’t deny it.

“Your turn, now,” he said, all smug confidence again. “Let’s see that flawless memory of yours at work.”

It was like looking into a bizarre mirror, his posture perfectly imitated and a halo forming behind Aether’s head as he joined him in the air. It looked a little different from his - the anemo energy seemed infused with something else, almost like stars, but what mattered was that it was functioning, and the tiny, hopeful smile the traveler wore was everything he’d imagined.

“Ugh,” Paimon complained from the grass. “It’s like there’s two of him. One was bad enough.”

“Shut your mouth, you,” Kazeharu said without any real heat. He was watching the other man experiment with drifting through the air, feeling out how to manipulate the halo to direct himself forward or back. He was a little wobbly in places but hadn’t fallen out of the air yet, so that was a good sign.

“Okay,” he said, figuring that was good enough for the start. “Lemme show you how I fly rather than just hover.” He darted past Aether, the halo forming twin loops of guidance for the winds, each one moving independently to manipulate the air around him more precisely.

“Again, please,” was the request.

So he did it again, and again, zipping past Aether in the other direction, darting straight up, then down, then away.

“Good enough?” he asked. In answer, the blonde leaned forward, halo reforming behind him to shoot him through the air fast enough to leave a trail pressed into the grass below him, braid streaming behind him. The fact that the double halo formed slowly, that the man faltered a little as he sped past, well, those were things that practice would fix.

“Well?” Aether said, gliding back over to him, cocking an eyebrow.

He pretended to think about it, pursing his lips and tilting his head. “It could’ve been worse, I suppose.” 

“Gee, thanks, Haru,” the traveler said wryly. “Coming from you that’s essentially praise.”

“Tch.” How easily he saw through him. They’d clearly spent too much time together. “Don’t let it get to your head, dumbass. Did you want to see my attacks, too?”

“Those vortexes you make do look interesting, but as far as I can tell our wind blades are identical.” Aether tossed one at the nearest training dummy to demonstrate. 

“Mmm.” He wasn’t going to point out they were identical because he’d copied the traveler’s attacks. “Vortexes, then,” he said, compressing the air above his palm into a dangerous, whirling point that would explode the moment he released his control. The swirling air flowing around it pulled at its surroundings, tugging at their hair and clothes. “Easy, really. You just take the air and force it in on itself. More air, bigger explosion when you let go.” Aether leaned in to examine the anemo bomb swirling above his hand, amber eyes taking in every detail.

“Interesting, how you took the wind’s distaste for being controlled and weaponized it,” the traveler commented. “It’s so contrary to its very nature that when you release it the anemo contained within does even more damage just from sheer relief at escaping.”

“I hadn’t thought of it like that,” Kazeharu admitted, taking a fresh look at the humming vortex. Dangerous, volatile, and desperate to escape its confines. He tossed it at the training dummy Aether had targeted, releasing his grasp when it was within range to completely obliterate it - the sudden rush of wind shredded the thing as though it were paper.

He summoned another, larger and more forcefully compressed, the humming nearly a keening whine, now. “This is the biggest I’ve managed to control so far without it exploding in my face. It’s only a matter of time, though, before I refine my control even more.” They both examined it for a moment, before he closed his hand with a sharp gesture, dissipating it without using it. His other hand gestured to the remaining training dummies as if to say well, what are you waiting for? to the other man.

Aether’s aim is off, missing the training dummies entirely. The blast of wind explodes harmlessly to the side instead, merely ruffling the grass. “Huh,” the blonde said, with a bemused tilt of his head. “The direction of the wind spin affects how it flies. I should have known.”

The second one hits dead on, ripping the training dummy to shreds as efficiently as Kazeharu’s had, and the traveler smiles in triumph, amber eyes flitting to the side for his reaction.

He folded his arms. “What, you want applause or something?”

“Thank you,” Aether said, the triumphant smile softening into the one he’d directed at the wanderer more than once now. “It’s a different kind of flight, but… it does feel good to be in the air again.” 

That smile was making him nervous, so he looked away as he spoke. “Great.” He waved his hands in an insincere show of amazement. “Congratulations, you can fly. So go do it.”

The blonde hummed in nonanswer, ducking his head to examine some invisible stain on his scarf. “I don’t usually fly alone, though.” 

“So go fly with Paimon.”

The traveler brought his finger to his lips to silence him, then tipped his head towards the other end of the clearing. He followed his gaze to find the pest in question, still sprawled in the grass, basking in the pool of sunlight there with a serene smile on her face, fast asleep. As they watched, she shifted slightly, mouthing incoherent syllables in a tiny mumble nothing like her usual boisterous voice.

“Well, that explains why it’s been quiet, at least,” he muttered, lowering his own voice. “What’s wrong with flying by yourself, anyway?”

“You’ve never had anyone to fly with, have you?” A rhetorical question; they both knew it was true. Who else could he possibly have flown with? “It’s a beautiful thing, to share the sky with someone - to slip the bonds of gravity together and soar, just the two of you alone within that vast, deep blue expanse.”

Kazeharu offered him an incredulous stare, a little surprised by the sudden emotion in the other man’s voice. “Since when were you a poet?” 

“I’ve always been a poet,” Aether said, offering him that smile again in return. “It just doesn’t come as naturally to me in other languages.” He held out a hand to the puppet, seemingly sincere. “I always flew with my sister, before, but I don’t think I’d mind sharing the sky with you, Haru.”

His eyes flickered back and forth between that disquieting smile and the outstretched hand. “You realize,” he said, trying to find an excuse to not take it, “that I’ll be able to hear your thoughts again, if I touch you. You sure you want that?”

The blonde merely wiggled his fingers in encouragement, still smiling, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

Ugh. Fine, if he was going to be that way, so be it. “Dumbass,” he muttered, reaching out to take the hand.

Chapter Text

She hasn’t threatened him with any punishment if he were to twist the words or change the orders, or simply relay things that were entirely made up, but he also knows that she would know. He can feel those quick brushes of her mind against his, no matter how brief. And he knows that she is capable of possessing him should he step out of line - if she could do it to those derivative dolls at the adventurer’s guild through the akasha she can certainly do it to him, now that they are directly connected through Irminsul.  

The unspoken implication is enough. Even as Shouki no Kami, locked inside the little chamber in its head, he had been the one in control of both his bodies movements, limited as they were. He will not be reduced to a mere vessel for the little god’s consciousness, forced to watch as his body is paraded around at her command. The humiliation of conveying her smallest orders and whims is shame enough. He will not be forced to smile about it too.

Touching Aether’s mind again had worked out in their favor, in the end - he wondered if the blonde had planned for it. He had much better control of his residual mental abilities than he had when they’d first spoken in Irminsul, and as long as they were close enough, he could maintain the link without physical contact now. They’d spent most of an hour in the air, refining Aether’s control, and at the speeds they’d been going it was impossible to hear anything over the wind. 

It was different, flying with someone else. Racing each other; seeing who could fly faster, darting through the canyons and winding mountain trails. There was a hand to catch him, when he rounded a corner and nearly ran into a wall; he was there to catch Aether, when his halo faltered mid-flight. Even when he couldn’t see him, his presence was still there; in the air that spilled around him as he moved, the sound of his passage, and the touch of his mind sharing his unabashed elation that he could fly once more. It was almost… comforting. 

It would be lonely, flying by himself again. He understood why Aether hadn’t wanted to, now.

They’d stopped, after Paimon had finally woken back up - despite her best efforts, she just couldn’t keep up with them when they flew at full speed. So instead, they’d returned to the house for Aether to cook a celebratory dinner, for his learning to fly again and for Kazeharu’s recovery. It had been a good test for both of them - a way to see how his leg held up, and an opportunity to give the traveler some unhurried practice.

The problem with being fit for duty again was that now he had a month’s worth of paperwork to deal with. Aether’d brought the whole pile of it for him last night, intelligence reports and Fatui sightings and all the rest, leaving it in a neat stack in the little room the blonde used as a study. The traveler was out with Paimon today - something about culling spreading mushrooms - and with them gone, that meant Kazeharu had the house to himself. 

First things first. He made tea.

That done, there was nothing else he could use to put the reading off, and he settled in on the plush chair by the well-worn desk for a long, boring morning, far too reminiscent of ones he’d spent reading reports as a harbinger. Three hundred words about a fungi infestation down by Gandharva Ville. Three thousand about a developing leyline confluence that was located in a spot much too close to a major road that was attracting dangerous wildlife. Six whole pages devoted to the whereabouts of a missing scholar who might or might not have been researching something illegal. (Knowing the Akademiya, he was absolutely researching something illegal, morally questionable, or both.) The numbers came naturally; he couldn’t help it. It was just the way he worked.

An entire folder detailing the clash between eremite factions that was threatening desert villages across the whole south of the region. Raids followed by retaliation followed by more raids. Merchant caravans in the area were having trouble crossing safely, and extra matra had to be dispatched to guard them, since any eremite guards were targets. He put that one to the side for further review. If the matra were being sent out on guard duty then he’d be the one picking up the slack on some of their less-savory jobs.

Such as dealing with the Fatui encampment he was reading about right now. He flipped through the pages quickly, noting the reports of stolen supplies and missing people. Missing people was never a good sign, because that meant they wanted something and it wasn’t just a little extra starsilver on the side. Aether had mentioned his encounters with Fatui trying to trap Aranara, but that required children for bait, and these were adults. His first thought was Dottore - the bastard - but their last reports had placed his surviving segments elsewhere. He only had three at the moment that they were aware of, the one that made the deal, one that he’d been building before the agreement with Buer, and one he’d made afterward.

He set that folder to the side too. He’d need to check through the rest of this for any updated intelligence on the second before he could rule him out.

If he was back in Sumeru, Kazeharu would be there, permission or not. There was blood that needed to be paid.

He lost himself in a small fantasy about slicing the circular scars on his back into a broken, bleeding Dottore, envisioned the pain and madness in his eyes when he tore out the man’s lying tongue. He would cut off his eyelids so the second harbinger could watch everything the way he loved to, break each invasive finger one by one as he watched with those lidless eyes, then each limb and appendage, and when there was nothing left to break, he would cut into his chest and rip out the bastard’s heart with his bare hands. There would be no grave for any Dottore, no coffin and ceremony, just the incinerating heat of the furnace he’d sabotaged all those centuries ago. 

The sound of tearing paper brought him back to reality, and he hastily smoothed the report he’d been mangling. It was still legible. Mostly.

Kazeharu leafed through the rest of the stack quickly, not seeing anything that immediately struck him as Dottore related. A shame. Revenge would have to wait, it seemed. He did pull anything Fatui related out to cross-reference with the original folder anyway. The rest of the pile was just more reports on dishonest scholars and displaced fungi, none of which seemed worth his attention.

As he read the relevant reports more carefully, he found himself borrowing one of Aether’s maps and a corkboard, sticking tiny pins anywhere that seemed worth noting. Here was the camp from the first folder. Here, a camp by a conveniently placed waterway. That one there was barely over the border into Sumeru, and this one was much too close to that village over there. This village here had lost three people, but there was no known Fatui presence nearby. 

There was a clear pattern, looking at it, though he suspected that only someone who knew their methods as well as he did would have been able to spot it. He stuck another pin where he suspected a hidden facility might be, and where the missing people might currently be held. Buer would of course want that resolved first - he knew by now that she considered all her people her precious, tender children, whether they worshiped her or not. Perhaps she had been born with all the love his mother was lacking, and that was how she could care about so many people she didn’t even know. (That was a stupid thought, he wasn’t thinking about it.)

Even if he was wrong about that location, it was likely that someone in the chain of command would be there; someone that knew something. He might not be a god anymore, but it still only took a touch for him to glean the surface thoughts of another’s mind. People rarely bothered to control their thoughts; he’d learned over the past year (had it really been almost a year since that fateful fight?) that simple questions were often enough to get him the information he needed. While their words showed defiance, their thoughts held the answers, and he wasn’t interested in the morality of his methods when he had done so much worse for far uglier reasons.

It didn’t hurt that it also tended to be much faster and far less messy than trying to interrogate his prisoners the usual way.

Kazeharu sat back, examining the map critically. The smaller camps were often not worth going after; they’d be rebuilt as soon as whatever authority figure had found it was gone, or just moved elsewhere. It was probably still a good idea to have someone check the locations that he only suspected might have camps in or near them, but he’d just note those down for Buer to deal with. His major concern was the cave system at the cross-section of all the camps (both known and presumed) that almost certainly contained some kind of supply point or base.

It would have been built recently, because it hadn’t existed when he had been a harbinger. He’d been out of the loop long enough now that it was certainly possible they’d set new plans in motion that he had no idea about. He’d also never been told the full details of the Grand Plan, beyond rebellion against the Heavenly Principles, so he couldn’t make conjectures based on that either.

Recently could mean understaffed, partially built, unprepared - but it could also mean the freshest forces, well-stocked supplies, and the latest technology.

He reached out. Buer, he said.

Kazeharu, she greeted him fondly. Did you find something in the reports? You feel concerned.

There are several places that I suspect contain unmonitored Fatui camps, based on the reports, and their locations suggest they may have built another base too, since they lost the workshop.

I see, her voice said, sad but unsurprised. I had hoped they would withdraw from Sumeru completely, but you know them best. If that’s what you think, you are probably correct.

I’m coming over, he said, quickly scribbling down his notes for Buer. Be there in five.

He snagged the reports, and then the map too, for good measure, and wrote another note letting Aether know where it’d gone in case he wanted it back. Then he reached straight out for the waypoint near the Akademiya. They were incredibly draining to use, especially the further away you were, but he thought it worth the exchange this time. (He really didn’t know how the traveler managed to hop to and from them across the continent in minutes as though it was nothing - he’d chalked it up to another strange not of this world quirk, after a while.)

He strode through the halls of the Akademiya like he belonged there, sandals tap-tap-tapping on the stone floors with hurried, inhuman grace. He’d been through there often enough now that people knew not to bother him, knew that the man in the blue half-cape and the hat was on some business for the Lesser Lord even if they didn’t know exactly what. Guards ignored him, not seeing him as a threat, and scholars stepped out of his way. He wouldn’t deny that it reminded him of striding through the ranks of the Fatui, but the deference here was not one of fear, but simple acknowledgment. Respect.

How utterly different. Bizarre, even.

He knew which he preferred, though, and Buer did too.

It would have been faster to just fly up to the sanctuary, but he wasn’t going to risk losing any of the papers he was carrying, not when they contained confidential information he’d been trusted with. Sure, it was also true that it wasn’t information generally available to the public and it would probably cause widespread unease if some of it were to get out, but that part didn’t matter to him as much as the little god’s faith. So he took the long way, up the ramps and across the spreading branches of the world tree, until he reached the arching doors of the sanctuary, the guards bowing him in.

She was waiting for him by the entrance, a flat surface of pure dendro energy hovering nearby with fresh paper and writing instruments, concern pinching that childlike face. “Kazeharu,” she greeted him again. The line of worry between her eyebrows relaxed, just a tiny bit, when she spotted him. “What have you found?”

“I can’t say for sure, but people are going missing near places where Fatui have been sighted, and if my guess is correct, they’ve built a new base in these caves here,” he said, slapping the map down on the table. “Here, here, and here - all prime spots for Fatui camps based on the locations of these other confirmed ones, and all together they’re within reach as outposts for a base located there.” He gestured at the suspect cavern system as he spoke.

“Oh dear,” Buer said, eyes scanning the map. “When you lay it out like that, I can certainly see why you’d be concerned. But are you sure it is a base and not just another outpost?”

“I’m not,” he admitted, “but that layout together with the missing people makes me suspect it’s something more.”

Those big green eyes of hers turned towards him, full of worry. “I had heard from the General Mahamatra that there were a couple of missing people here and there, but what makes you think the cases are related?”

“It’s more than just a couple of missing people, taken together. They’re all poor,” he spreads one stack of paper on the table, “or isolated,” he spreads a second stack, “or desperate in some way.” A third stack. “People that won’t be noticed as quickly, cases that are likely to be dismissed or fall through the cracks. But combined with some of the previous reports we’ve gotten, there’s too many for it to just be people getting lost or mauled by tigers.”

“And so you want my permission to investigate this cave system,” she said, still studying the map and the suspiciously convenient locations of all of the pins. She turned that deep, unsettling gaze back to him and said, “Very well. As the Second Sage of Buer, I charge you with locating this potential base and surveying it should you find it. I will dispatch matra to investigate your suspected outposts while you are at it.”

She tapped a finger against her lip in thought. “Should I also call for the Traveler? I know you were working together with him quite often before your injury.”

Kazeharu shook his head, hat tassels swaying with the movement. “If I’m just scouting the place, one person is less likely to be spotted than two. Keep him for backup in case something else comes up while I’m gone.”

He paused, then added, “Let him know when you see him that he can just drop my stuff off here when he wants his room back, too.”

“Oh,” the little god said, gently biting her bottom lip as if wanting to say something. He folded his arms and waited. “I thought you had enjoyed your time staying with Aether?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said, rolling his eyes. “It wasn’t horrible, but that doesn’t mean I enjoyed it. And he’s obviously going to want his space back now that I’ve recovered. I don’t have anything besides clothes, anyway, he can just pile them back in my room here.”

“Well,” she said, an unreadable expression on her face. “I suppose I’ll bring it up, if you insist.”

“I do,” he said. “And now I’m going to go do my job, before we waste any more time on unnecessary shit.”

He stalked back out of the sanctuary before she could come up with anything else to nag him about. It was none of her business if he’d enjoyed staying with the traveler, and it didn’t matter anymore anyway, since the man had no reason to keep him around now. If he felt the slightest twinge of disappointment at that thought, well, no he didn’t, he was imagining things and he had better things to think about.

He took off from the space right by the door, not bothering to warn the guards that he was about to jump off the platform, and he could hear their startled gasps behind him as he dismissed his hat and sped away from the sanctuary. They’d live, it wasn’t like they hadn’t seen him do that before. Right now he was more concerned about the cave system he was rapidly approaching. There was every likelihood that the base in question would be concealed in some fashion, and enemy forces would be cautious seeking it out, perhaps employing Fatui stealth technology to conceal their approaches and departures. 

Considering how large the caverns were, and the fact that they weren’t fully mapped, this could take him a while. The easiest way would be if he could get his hands on one of them and pluck the location out of their head, but that could mean alerting them to his presence, and he’d prefer not to do that if he could avoid it. The second best method would be to discreetly follow a returning member back to the base, assuming he could spot one through their stealth. (He’d have to look for footprints appearing with no one nearby, or listen for the sounds of movement when an area looked empty. He’d done it before, but it was a complete and utter pain.)

His other option was to simply investigate the whole cavern himself, and see if he could find it on his own, based on signs of activity in the area. Any way he looked at it, the longer he spent trying, the more likely the Fatui would notice him. And if they knew someone was snooping around, security would be tightened even further.

With that in mind, he thought he’d try heading for the lower levels first, the unmapped ones. Logically, the base would be somewhere hard to find, and most adventurers didn’t venture beyond the safer, known areas, so it would be elsewhere.

Once inside the cavernous entrance, he took to the shadows, hiding behind stalactites and pillars, hugging the walls and the ceiling. People often forgot to look up, and he was counting on that. The larger mushrooms growing further in the caves also provided adequate cover, their stems like fungal tree trunks, and their caps ‘rooftops’ he could flatten himself against to avoid attention from below. He could see traces of human presence as he descended, footprints and stray smothered campfires here and there, but nothing he could definitively link to the Fatui. 

He’d missed this, he found. The thrill of stalking something, or someone; something that put his other talents to use, not just his sheer inhuman strength and fighting skill. He hadn’t needed to use these since… since Inazuma, really. When he’d stolen the gnosis and dropped everything else to get Dottore’s ‘help’ to become a god.

Perhaps Buer could be persuaded to give him more assignments like this one, rather than simple combat or cleanup, or relaying orders. He’d ask, when he returned.

For now, all he could do was keep going deeper.

Chapter Text

The classes are just a different kind of humiliation from running errands, but at least he is able to get a tiny amount of revenge, petty as it is. Buer will inevitably ask to see his notes when he returns to the sanctuary from his classes. He fills them with crude drawings and vulgar words each time, trying to get a reaction out of her. His veil blocks the students next to him from seeing what he is doing, and sitting at the back of the room means the professor ignores him too, so he is free to avoid any unwanted attention - aside from the godly sort. Unfortunately, she seems to find it amusing at best. Her favorite ones are always the fungi for some reason, so he’d stopped drawing those for the most part. 

Today’s masterpiece? A sumpter beast stomping on this pathetic excuse for a professor.

Luck was with him, because he’d found an overly incautious pyro agent, patrolling out of stealth for just long enough for him to spot them. Of all the classes of Fatui operatives, pyro agents had the most robust stealth modules, capable of continuous use even during combat conditions. That module was going to be his, shortly. He just needed to plan his attack.

That was how he found himself perched on a fungal shelf near the ceiling of this particular cave, peering through the moss and ferns growing on top to track his target. Normally, when a Fatui operative took fatal damage, their systems would self-abort, to prevent loss of their highly classified weaponry and armor to the enemy. So, in order to retrieve a still functioning stealth module, he would either have to kill the agent in a way that didn’t register as an attack, or he’d have to just take it off him while he was still alive.

Kazeharu was leaning towards the latter, because it would also give him a chance to question him about the location of the base, and anything important the agent might know. He couldn’t leave him alive to report back afterward though, and he really wanted to make it look innocuous - as much as an agent dying could be, anyway. Two caverns back there had been a large grove of ambulatory fungi, many of which had looked to be anemo attuned. If he dumped the body there, traces of his own anemo energy left on the body could be attributed to the fungi, and they weren’t too picky about whether their prey was dead or alive - meaning by the time the body was found, there would be considerable damage to it.

It was an excellent solution. He just needed to take the agent down first, and so he waited patiently for a chance to ambush the man, buried under moss and leaves on top of a mushroom. If at all possible, he was going to remain out of the line of sight of any hidden kameras the agent might have on him, too - the more use he could get out of the erasure of his existence from memory before they started gathering data on him again, the better. Right now, he’d be barely a footnote in reports from Sumeru, if that, because officially he’d been doing nothing except relaying Buer’s orders. That was bound to change once he started playing a more active role behind the scenes.

He had noted an abbreviated camp nearby, indicating his target was out on an extended patrol of the area. He wouldn’t need to worry about him trying to return to the base before he could get his hands on the stealth module, so he was simply going to wait until the man was preoccupied with indulging his mortal needs and take him down from behind.

Like right now. He was sitting down on the stump of a mega fungus, pulling out what Kazeharu immediately recognized as Fatui travel rations. He’d always been glad he didn’t need to eat anything when he’d been in their ranks, they smelled disgusting. 

He let himself slip into the air as quietly as possible, slowly drifting over behind the agent, watching for any sign of alarm. 

Closer… closer… now.

He dropped from the air with all the force of an avalanche, nailing the man square in the back and pinning him down before he could do more than begin to react. The brief struggle was in no way fair for the agent, and very shortly Kazeharu had him in a neat chokehold, arms trapped uselessly between his body and the ground, knives haplessly discarded nearby. He addressed the most urgent priority first and located the stealth module, detaching it from the system as quickly as possible and paying absolutely no attention to the snarling venom being directed at him by the somewhat squashed, muffled voice beneath him. No use risking the man having some kind of failsafe key or cyanide pill that could activate the system’s automatic shutdown.

He ran his free hand over the agent’s mask. There. A click, and it detached, and the puppet managed to get his hand on skin. “Where’s the base,” he asked harshly, reaching into the agent’s mind.

“Fuck you,” was the verbal response, even as the other’s mind flooded with images. A vast underground lake, draped in luminescent vegetation, and beneath it, a hidden hatch in the sediment.

“The base. How many entrances?” he insisted, ignoring the insult in favor of paying attention to the mind he was connected to. Unfortunately, if there were other entrances, this particular agent didn’t seem to know about them. Of course they’d make it difficult.

“What are the Fatui doing here?” was his next question. It was unlikely this low-level grunt would know anything useful, but it didn’t hurt to ask.

He could feel the agent swallowing nervously against the hand gripping his throat, but after a moment, he still spat out, “Suck my dick.”

His mind, however, gave him people in cages, and piles and piles of native Sumeran resources, and a vague sense of urgency. It did at least confirm his theory that the missing people weren’t just isolated cases.

Kazeharu tightened his grip, leaning forward to whisper over the other’s shaky breathing, “Who’s in charge here?”

An unfamiliar face, not a harbinger, just a rank and file officer, and an attached name: Pavel. 

Good enough. He had his next target. Time to dispose of this one. Except… for some reason, he thought of the traveler, and how he nearly always left his enemies alive. Damn it all, he was not a good person. But the thought of Aether’s inevitable disappointment made him hesitate.

He clicked his tongue, annoyed at himself for caring about that. After a brief moment of silence broken only by the other man’s harsh breathing, he gave in. “Got any reason for me not to kill you?” he offered grudgingly, to appease that faint thought. His answer was a growled curse.

“No?” he prodded. “Nothing to say? Fine then, offer going once.” The agent started struggling again, seeming to realize he was serious. “Going twice….”

“Time’s up.” A quick shift of his hands and the neck he was holding snapped, the body going limp with a faint gurgle. There, he’d tried. The imaginary traveler in his head would have to be satisfied with that. Moving on, then, he left the corpse face down as he frisked it, still wary of any potential recording devices - though he didn’t find any obvious ones, at least.

Hm. He paused a moment, examining the little leather packet he’d found in a pocket. Lockpicks. Those could potentially be extremely helpful.

He slipped them into his sleeve for later use, and the dropped knives into his belt (not that he needed knives, but if he wanted to fight without leaving elemental traces, they’d be there). That done, he picked the stealth module back up and examined it. It was smaller than he remembered, with a slightly different shape - it must be a newer model. The control panel was still nearly identical to the ones he’d used, though, and he managed to check the power supply without too much difficulty. Over half. That should give him plenty of time to thoroughly investigate the base undetected. 

After some thought, he decided to clip it to the sash tied to his belt, resting against the small of his back. A little more awkward to reach, but also meant it wouldn’t be getting hit by attacks from the front. He stretched a little, twisting his torso this way and that, bending over, testing how securely it sat in its new spot. Seemed satisfactory enough. He turned it on.

That left the body. Horribly awkward and floppy, he’d have preferred to touch as little of the filthy thing as possible, but he also wanted to spend as little time handling it as possible, so he dealt with it. He flew it back to the other cavern, carefully avoiding bumping dangling arms and legs against walls so as not to leave traces. Fungi were usually quite territorial, and he was not surprised in the slightest when they descended on the corpse en masse after he dropped it in their space, ripping and tearing noises following him back out as he left. 

The perfect crime.

Time to find this lake. If the puppet concentrated, he could feel the slight tug of the magnetic fields interacting with the native electro in his body. It wasn’t as accurate as a compass, not now that there was so little of it left in him, but it was enough for him to be fairly certain he was still heading westward into the caverns. As long as he continued this direction, it would be territory he hadn’t explored yet. He’d keep an eye out for any overly lush areas along the way - water meant plants, after all.

He reached behind him, checking again that he could toggle the stealth module easily, then resumed skulking along the walls of the cavern, electing to save its power for now.

The one glaring problem that he could see with his plan was that Kazeharu had no idea how he was going to get into an underwater base. At least, not without letting in a lot of water and alerting people. There had to be procedures and mechanisms in place to account for that, but draining a lake would be too noticeable to do for every little exit and entrance. There had to be something else - perhaps a hydro barrier holding out the water when the hatch was opened? And what about supplies? Was there a service entrance, perhaps, for all the things they were stealing? (Submersing foodstuffs in water was not generally the best thing for storage, after all.)

As a harbinger, he’d had to at least acknowledge these sorts of petty mortal difficulties, even if he wasn’t directly in charge of solving them. He tried to think back to other bases he’d been stationed at, even if briefly. Some had had illusions covering bigger entrances for shipments, others had just had a large enough main entrance to fit supplies through. There was also a chance that supplies were delivered via an underground railshaft, with the actual supply point being nowhere near the base itself. If that was the case then sneaking in with a shipment wouldn’t be a possibility - though perhaps it could be an exit if it came to that.

Still pondering this dilemma, he followed first one winding passage, then another. Each turn dropped him further into the damp earth around him, moss and vines thickly grown over the ground and draping across the packed soil of the walls. Soil gave way to stone, and he followed the cavern still deeper. Here, wet trails trickled across the rocky walls, threading through the moss like tiny waterfalls, pooling on the ground and dripping from the ceiling. Tiny flowers glimmered among the moss, bright with their own light, and the ever-present mushrooms hung in thick clusters across the trail, some of these deeper species shedding their own light as well.

With this much water, he had to be getting close. He could smell it, the peculiar scent of mineral rich water and wet stone hanging thick in the air here. He’d had to lift into the air to avoid leaving muddy footprints for any potential followers a few turns back, and as the puddles became larger and merged into one continuous layer of water across the floor, he expected to see the lake around every corner.

And finally, there it was. The floor dropped out beneath the water into soundless depths, the surface stretching out before him, still and silent, aside from the faint dripping that could be heard echoing across the entire cave. 

Kazeharu skirted the edges of the cavern, hiding behind thick curtains of dangling leaves and curling tendrils, feet skimming just barely above the surface of the water. He knew where to look for the hidden entrance, but he still wasn’t certain how he should approach it. If he just dove in, his clothes and everything on him would be soaked, and he was not interested in leaving a dripping wet trail for any stray Fatui to follow once he was inside. He suspected the best, and easiest option, would just be to wait for someone to exit the place and sneak past them.

If the agent had been correct, and there really weren’t any other entrances, then it’d happen eventually. For now, though, he found a tiny ledge he could sit on beneath the greenery, pulling his legs up and tucking his arms around them, taking up as little space as possible. No point in breathing, either, if he was concealing his presence, so he let the air out of his lungs and just let himself rest, motionless, one more stray rock resting among the others.

And now to wait.

Kazeharu had no idea how long it had been since he settled in to watch the entrance. With no sunlight this far down, the only light the steady glow from the cave flowers and mushrooms, and the only company the steady dripping of water into the lake, he’d completely lost all sense of time. Maybe time was an illusion too, just like the sky. He entertained himself for a brief moment with that thought. But no, if time was an illusion, then there would be no past or future - no past mistakes that he could never undo. A single eternal moment, the entire world frozen in stasis, no moving forward or backwards, no orders from Buer, or commissions to run with Aether; no watching the sunlight glow in his golden hair as he lifted his face to drink it in (apparently quite literally, from what he’d said).

His mother would love that.

That was enough reason to hate it, he decided. He’d believe in time just to spite her. He acknowledged to himself in the back of his mind that this was an incredibly childish and stupid thing to be thinking about, and that he should probably stop. Nevertheless….

He reached out. Buer, do you think time is real? he asked, to distract himself.

Oooh! Are we doing philosophy now? she replied immediately, enthusiasm bubbling over and spilling into his mind before he had a chance to regret bringing it up. Mortals have so very many interesting theories about it, you know! I think my favorite one in regards to your question is that time cannot be real because a moment in time cannot simultaneously be past, present, and future, and yet for time to be perceived linearly like it is, each moment has to possess those properties relative to the other ones - but which property it possesses changes depending on the moments it is related to! He could just see her clasping her hands together in delighted excitement, green eyes wide with gentle fondness for her curious little humans. So, if it can only possess one property at a time, yet has all three, then how could something with such an inherent paradox actually exist at all?

He blinked in surprise, taken aback by her completely serious response to his nonsensical question. Do people seriously think about things like that?

Of course! You yourself were thinking about it just now, to have asked me that question, weren’t you? He felt, more than heard, the little laugh. You certainly aren’t the first one, if that’s what you were worried about! There’s so much literature devoted to it, and so very many theories. I find it all quite fascinating!

Okay, he said, but what do you think? Is time real?

She answered his question with more questions. Do you think there are any differences between today and tomorrow? Between yesterday and today? Are these things that will happen whether someone is there to perceive them or not? Is there a difference between time as a reality and time as a construct of our minds?

Damn it all, Buer, he grumbled, annoyed. Just say you don’t think it matters whether or not it’s real, there’s no need to get all poetic about it.

Being poetic is part of the fun of philosophy! Even silly things can sound so very serious and compelling when phrased the right way. The right words can make all the difference, sometimes.

He was silent at that. Would it have mattered had he known the right words to say, when Aether had asked if he was really okay with losing everything he was just to become a replacement god for Buer? Even then, the desire to cease existing had been strong. That wasn’t what he had said, though. He’d said that he had been built to become a god, so he would do it if it was the last thing he did. He would fulfill his purpose. Be useful. But even then, a small part of him recognized, Aether had seen straight through that to the heart of the matter in the first place.

Perhaps that was why he hadn’t minded quite as much when it had been him to stop his fatal fall. If it had to be anyone, at least it was someone who almost understood.

He could sense Buer waiting, patiently, letting him think through everything on his own. What could he even say to that? I’ve never found the right words for anything, in all my eight hundred years of life? What good are words, when people can lie with them? 

But they can also tell the truth with them, she whispered. Everything has two sides.

Of course she’d been listening. Thank you, was all he actually said, after a while, and he withdrew. He still had an entrance to watch.

Chapter Text

Somewhere in Lesser Lord Kusanali’s desk:

This is ridiculous, the letter starts.

I am writing this letter under duress, and in no circumstance should you take this as a friendly overture. Buer thinks that writing down my feelings towards everyone that I’ve wronged will help me come to terms with reality, and by every drop of divinity in me, I hope she never so much as thinks about actually sending them. I’ll die of shame on the spot.

An interminable amount of time later, something finally happened. The wind tugged urgently at his hair, and he roused himself from what had been a near-comatose state to see what it wanted. He shifted slightly, blue eyes peering cautiously through the curtain of leaves in front of him, and watched as a thin beam of elemental light shot up from the hidden entrance, then widened into a water free corridor directly above it. This would probably be a good time to activate his new stealth module, and he reached behind him to turn it on.

He waited, alert, as the hatch slid open, tiny grains of sand falling inside as it did. A platform rose through the opening, carrying a full patrol team - probably out to change guard shifts. That platform was the key, he knew. The hatch wouldn’t close until it was back inside, and he’d have to make good use of that. He was expecting it to stop when it reached the surface of the lake, perhaps for the cicin mage to summon cryo and freeze the surface to walk on, but instead it kept rising towards the roof of the cavern. He glanced up, noting a shadowy spot that might actually be a hole, and realized there must be another way down. This was his chance, though, and he wasn’t going to waste it.

He lifted up, and slid out from beneath the vegetation, careful not to brush them and have the movement draw attention, then hovered over the water and towards the barrier corridor. He kept shooting glances at the rising platform as he did, estimating its speed. He should be able to avoid it with ease even if it turned back right now. He gave it one last look as he reached the hole in the water, then let himself drop down, catching himself just under the hatch opening. The Fatui manning the controls hadn’t noticed anything, and the puppet drifted effortlessly over their heads and into the base proper. As luck would have it, it seemed he'd gotten in during the night shift - less people, less potential problems.

The ceilings were lower here than he’d expected, and several times he had to stop and press himself up against the unadorned steel tiles so as to not hit someone in the head with his foot. The sheer familiarity of the construction was… not comforting, no. But it felt disturbingly natural, the way the doors were where he expected them to be, the corridors where they should be, how the layout just made sense. Like Kazeharu could drop himself right back in as though he’d never left at all. 

As though he was still Scaramouche, the Sixth of the Eleven Harbingers, the temperamental Balladeer from his underlings’ nightmares. Those ‘generously’ loaned names he had retroactively discarded and erased, still coming back to haunt him even now.

He hated it. Hated that even knowing everything they’d done to him, knowing how they’d used him and manipulated him, he still found part of himself wanting that familiarity, even when all he’d gotten from it was pain. It was pathetic. He was pathetic. He got attached to things too easily, and if he was having an internal crisis over the architecture here that just proved it. Maybe this had been a bad idea.

…but no, he’d have had to face this sooner or later.  It was better to deal with it now than when he confronted Dottore, or any of the other harbingers. He couldn’t afford to be distracted when dealing with them, even the lower ranked ones. Even the eleventh could be dangerous if he was caught off guard. Kazeharu would simply have to get used to it.

He’d passed out of the lower entrance corridors as he’d been pondering the odd feeling. This area seemed to be mostly training spaces, filled with Fatui sparring each other or practicing techniques. He eyed them critically through the windows, judging their skill. None of them would be even close to a match for him in a fight. 

Weaklings.

He picked up the pace a bit, knowing neither prisoners nor information would be found here. He needed to find administrative offices, or officers quarters, something like that. Or really, at this point he’d settle for higher ceilings so he wouldn’t have to awkwardly cram himself into the corners so much. Either would be good. Both would be better.

Elemental sight was a rare skill, but Kazeharu kept his anemo to barely more than a whisper anyway, just enough to keep him afloat. Even if no one could see the traces he was leaving, he didn’t want anyone sensing him either - even with the stealth module, a base on alert would be much more difficult to deal with.

Once he finally made it into a more central area, with high enough ceilings that he could finally relax a little, he compared the layout to bases he knew. If the training area was behind him, then logically that there would be a mess hall, which meant that admin would be… that way. He eyed the down-sloping corridor. Yes, that seemed right. He ghosted past the Fatui members walking below him, careful not to move so quickly they’d feel a breeze as he passed, and cautiously headed down to the lower level. Lower levels were higher security in an underground base like this - further away from the exit; from outside help or escape.

It was likely that any prisoners would be on lower levels too.

He dropped two more floors before he found anything helpful. Here, there were officials handling paper, shifts being scheduled and guard rotations worked out. Somewhere around here, then, would be his target’s office. Unlikely it would be labeled - Fatui bases were built to be hard to navigate for intruders - but he could make an attempt by judging the apparent sizes of the rooms. This ‘Pavel’ probably had a bigger office, after all.

That in mind, he set his sights on the door by the end of the corridor. The amount of space between it and the other rooms indicated it was fairly large, so he’d start there. There wasn’t anybody near that end of the corridor, so he paused outside the door to listen intently for any signs of occupation. He heard nothing, and with a quick glance to check no one was looking his way, he cracked the door open and slipped inside.

There were signs that he’d guessed right. Personal effects, an ash tray - a few photographs, one featuring the man he’d seen in the agent’s mind. Perfect. There weren’t any obvious papers left out, but that just meant he’d be rifling through drawers instead. He tested the desk first, pulling each handle quietly. The bottom drawer was locked, a clear indication that something important was inside. He knelt down, examining the lock. Nothing too complicated, it seemed. Out came his brand new lockpicks, and he set to work, probing the inside of the mechanism carefully, listening for the sounds of things rotating and interlocking to tell him where to put his tools next. The satisfying click of the drawer unlatching was so delightful. Nostalgic, almost, and he smiled.

He pulled it open, and found he’d been right. Files, lots of them.

He flipped through the contents quickly - inventory counts, payroll management, shipping schedules, routine orders - nothing obviously useful yet. A printed, not written, order near the back caught his eye, and he skimmed the contents, halting at one particular paragraph to reread it more carefully.

While the rather disappointing failure of the initial project delta prototype was a setback, it was useful in that it revealed several significant flaws in the design that must be corrected before work can continue. As such, effective immediately, all units are hereby ordered to shift focus towards acquiring experimental subjects instead. Processing minerals is no longer the main focus of your mission, though it is still a useful material for sub-projects and can be included if available. Subjects must be adults; follow standard operating protocols for acquisition.

Standard operating protocols for kidnapping - just what he’d thought when he’d spoken with Buer. But what was this prototype that was mentioned? That was definitely worth noting, because it meant the Fatui were still up to something big if they were redesigning it despite a failure. What sort of prototype would require experimental subjects - some new drug? A breakthrough on the old god essence project?

The only major Fatui project failure he was aware of in the last year was - no, that didn’t make any sense. The artificial god plan had failed, yes, but how many other people out there could even interface with the gnoses like he could that weren’t already an archon? (None. The answer was none.) What could they possibly gain from making another Shouki no Kami, without him to serve as the linking vessel? Admittedly, they wouldn’t remember that Kazeharu’d been an integral component… still, no. It had to be something else, because living people had never been a part of the thing’s construction in any fashion.

…what were they planning to do with all those gnoses they were collecting, anyway?

He shook his head, dismissing the thought. He was familiar with mass-produced, printed orders like this - they were generally sent to bases all over the continent for organization wide changes, meaning that… it potentially - very likely, in fact - wasn’t just Sumeru losing people.

Damn.

Albedo would probably want to know about this. He folded the paper quickly, shoving it in his sleeve to bring back. He needed to see if there was anything else about this project delta in here. He didn’t remember hearing about it before, which meant it was either highly classified and he hadn’t been privy to its existence (something so classified that even mid-ranking harbingers weren’t aware of it was an extremely concerning thought) or it had been started after his defeat and defection. Unless - hell, for all he knew it could just be a less-classified codename for a project that was actually being conducted under a different name that he already knew. If it was the first option, highly classified, this Pavel would likely only know the project name, and that it required materials he needed to supply. If it was the second, though, he might still be able to find more information in here.

Kazeharu kept shuffling through the papers in the drawer, pulling up orders dated further and further back, until he hit the construction orders for the new base itself. Of course they wouldn’t have anything further back than that - everything at the Joururi base had been confiscated by the matra. 

He carefully replaced the last few papers, rotated the lock’s tumblers gently so it would arm itself when he shut the drawer, and closed it. Nothing out of place, just as it should be. He had to smirk, thinking about it. Puppets didn’t have any fingerprints to leave behind, so no one would ever know who took that order. He’d always loved outsmarting people.

He let the expression fade. He hadn’t found anything else related to the missing people in that drawer, so he’d have to search the rest of the office and hope he didn’t have to comb the entire base personally. 

He’d eventually found a prisoner feeding schedule, in a folder with ration expenditure calculations. The expenditures had dropped to zero in the last couple of days, only to rise slightly on the last page. That likely meant that any of the original batch of missing people he’d been looking for had already been shipped elsewhere, probably to one of Dottore’s labs. But they’d picked up at least one more in the meantime, and he knew Buer would want that one rescued if possible. The puppet slipped that in his sleeve with the project delta note, and several other files he’d taken as potentially useful. They’d be able to study it for a rough approximation of how fast people were being shipped out after disappearing.

The clocks in the office had told him that it was growing close to true morning, meaning that Pavel might appear soon, and he’d debated staying and trying to question the man. As far as he could tell from the complete lack of information in his office, it was unlikely he’d know anything else about project delta, so that was unfortunately off the table. On the one hand, if he did question the man, he’d be able to get an exact location for the prison facility - but on the other, he’d be working on a strict timer after revealing his presence. Whether he killed the man or simply restrained him, as soon as his situation was discovered the entire base would be up in arms. After thinking about it, he’d concluded that he’d prefer that timer start when their prisoner was found missing, to give them better escape odds. The stealth module only concealed one person, so he wasn’t going to make things more difficult for himself than he had to.

(He’d checked the power left on it, while he was thinking about it, and found he’d used almost half of what he’d started with. Something to keep in mind as he searched.)

Kazeharu slipped back out of the office as quietly as he came after making his decision, taking to the air again and gracefully winding his way around the oblivious people in the corridor below as he followed the instinct telling him to look on the lowest levels.

Several ramps later, he’d passed storage and residential quarters, but still no prison. The wind brought him the faint smell of tears on this level, though, and it was growing stronger. He’d started following that scent instead of wandering aimlessly, and was hoping that he wasn’t trailing some disillusioned Fatui recruit instead of a kidnapped victim. But no, the former harbinger recognized the change in the layout as he continued, the defenses and systems meant to keep people contained in here visible in the floors and walls.

Any prison worth its name would have ley line blockers installed. This one was no exception. True, only vision users (and Aether) could use waypoints, and it was only common sense to strip a prisoner’s vision from them as a precaution, but there was always the possibility of an ordinary prisoner being granted a vision. Not being able to teleport just meant they’d wreck the prison with their new strength instead, of course, but at least they’d still be in the same place while people tried to run damage control. 

He passed rows of empty disciplinary cells - no one had broken any serious rules lately, it seemed. He checked each proper room as he found it, finding only occasional guards, and empty cages hastily added in every spare inch of space - they’d clearly been unprepared for the sudden influx of kidnappings they’d needed to accommodate.

In one such room, likely a former storage space, he found an older woman in one of the cramped cages, sitting leaning against the back wall with her eyes closed. Looked desert-born, from her skin and clothes. The scent he’d been following was strong here, but it didn’t seem to be coming from her, so at the very least he wouldn’t have to deal with some distraught victim on his way out. There weren’t currently any guards in the room, and judging by the wrapper on the floor he could see she’d been given something to eat already, so it was unlikely they’d be disturbed for a bit. He lifted himself onto the top of the cage anyway, just in case, so he couldn’t be accidentally run into.

“Hey,” he whispered, tapping lightly against the bars with his knuckles. “You alive in there, granny?”

Her eyes shot open at the quiet words, sharper and more determined than he’d expected. “Who’s there?” she said, just as quietly, her mouth barely moving and her eyes scanning the room for someone she couldn’t see. She quickly focused on the roof of the cage, honing in on the tiny sounds he made as he shifted. A former mercenary, perhaps?

“That’s not important,” he said, because it wasn’t. “I’m going to get you out.”

“Don’t bother,” she said, with the tiniest shake of her head. “I’m just an unimportant old woman, don’t waste your time on me. If you’re skilled enough to sneak in here there’s more important things you could be doing. Go steal intelligence or something.”

“Ma’am,” he said, fighting a flash of irritation. “I’ve already accomplished everything I was sent here for. I know for a fact that my employer would have my head if I didn’t rescue someone when I had the opportunity.”

The woman let out an indelicate snort. “Your employer is an idiot. If you try to get me out, they’ll know you were in their base.”

“You know what? Fine.” He wasn’t going to waste his time arguing. “It’s not my problem-”

Kazeharu, a familiar voice said sternly in his mind.

“Seriously, Buer? She said no.” How long had she been listening?

And I’m telling you to get her out anyway, the little god said firmly. The matra will want witness statements for their records, if you need a concrete reason to persuade her.

He huffed a sigh. “Fiiine. Ma’am, I’ve been ordered to get you out whether you like it or not, because the matra are going to need witness statements to justify the inevitable raid.”

Rather than argue with the woman any more, he elected to ignore any further complaints and dropped down to pick the lock on the cage. It wasn’t a very difficult one, and he took a quick look around the room for any recording devices as he worked. None visible, at least. The lock clicked open and he swung the door wide without waiting for a reaction. Fortunately, she seemed to have accepted the witness statement argument, simply ducking through the open door and stretching her back (who knew how long she’d been stuck in that too-small cage).

“I’m going to touch you,” he said to warn her, then took her hand. Follow me, he said into her mind. He caught the startled blink she took at the unexpected development, before she schooled her face back to stillness. I don’t know you well enough to maintain contact without touching you, but this way they can’t hear us.

She simply nodded, eyes flicking from one corner of the room to the next, looking for danger, he supposed. We’re going to have to get past the ley line blockers, he said, invisible hand tugging her forward towards the door, and then I can teleport us out. It would take a lot more energy to drag someone with him, but he wasn’t about to try sneaking back through the whole base with an elderly woman who wasn’t even a vision user.

Just getting out of the prison area was going to be difficult enough. They spent more time hiding behind furniture, crates, and half open doors than they did moving. If he could’ve gotten his hands on another stealth module, it would’ve made things easier, but it was enough of a miracle that he’d gotten one at all. Here in the base, any struggle would probably result in an alert and backup being called, and there’d be no chance to detach it from the system without breaking it.

Kazeharu grew increasingly frustrated with every delay, and because the morning shift was awake now, there were far more people than there had been earlier. Finally, after a guard had the nerve to sit on the crate pile they were hiding in, with no indication of moving any time soon, he lost his patience entirely.

Buer, he said, reaching out, pulling her mind in to connect with theirs again. I can’t teleport her out without getting past the section of the base restricted by ley line blockers, and there’s too many guards. We’re stuck right now, and as soon as they discover she’s missing - it’ll be any time now - we’ll end up having to fight our way out.

I can defend myself, the woman’s voice said coolly, the first thing she’d actually said since he’d taken her hand. Just give me a weapon.

No, that’s too risky, was all Buer said. I don’t think fighting is the way to go if we can avoid it. Wanderer, do you still have the key token on you? You could try taking her to the Traveler’s domain. It’s a subspace, not connected to the ley lines at all - the blockers shouldn’t have any effect on dimensional travel.

Can you even leave that in a difference place from where you entered? he asked doubtfully, before shaking his head. It was a good idea. Whatever. It will still get us out of the current predicament. We can figure the rest out later.

One hand gripped the woman’s hand tighter, and the other reached into his sleeve for the token, grasping it to wake it and let the other realm suck them both in. He couldn't help but append one more cheeky thought for the Fatui as they disappeared:

See you later, assholes~

Chapter Text

So, fine. I hate your miserable guts, because every time you walk into a nation everyone swoons and falls over to worship you, and yet I, a being born to be a god, had to claw and fight my way through hell to have one single follower who of course no longer remembers me. I hate how fucking perfect everyone thinks you are, because I’ve touched your mind and I know you’re anything but. I hate that when I did I could feel your fucking bullshit sympathy and understanding along with your anger. I hate knowing you weren’t faking it.

I hate that you caught me. I hate that you cut me down and then came back to help me like the stupid hero everyone thinks you are. I hate that you know everything, now; that you stayed by my side while I faced my old self and memories. I hate that I feel grateful for any of your stupid performative bullshit.

He landed gracefully on the grass as they materialized on the front lawn, the rescued woman stumbling slightly at the unexpected shift beneath her feet. Kazeharu deactivated the stealth module with a sigh of relief, happy to see his own hands properly again. It was probably nearly drained by now - he’d have to source some electro crystals to recharge it. He wasn’t about to let his wonderful new toy break from lack of maintenance, after all.

The woman he’d rescued was giving him a strange look, now that she could actually see him. “Aren’t you a little too young to be out doing dangerous infiltration missions?” she asked. His eye twitched.

“I’m older than I look,” he said, clipping the words in annoyance. 

“Still-”

He wasn’t doing this. He dropped her hand, stalking towards the mansion instead.

Buer, he said, summoning his hat back so he could tug it down over his face to conceal his growing irritation, tell Aether to come pick your damn witness up and take her wherever you need her to be. I did my part. He didn’t wait for a reply, pulling back from the connection immediately. She didn’t reach back to him, either, probably sensing that he wasn’t in the mood for chatting.

The portly spirit swirled into existence on the steps in front of him as he approached, just as he’d seen it do for so many others. It was strange to be the guest greeted by the teapot spirit in front of the mansion, after staying there for so long. Except…

“Welcome home, Master Niwa,” was what the spirit said. That wasn’t what it said to guests. “It’s good to see you again after your absence. I understand you were away on an important mission? Did it go well?”

“I -” he cut himself off. Welcome home. He wasn’t thinking about that right now. “Yes. How long was I gone?” he said instead. He could hear the elderly woman walking up behind him.

“Two and a half days,” the spirit informed him cheerfully. Damn. He must have spent longer exploring the cave and waiting to get in than he’d thought. “Is your guest in need of refreshments? I can prepare some breakfast if you’d like.”

Guest?? Refreshments??? He suppressed an uneasy laugh, settling his hands on his hips and jerking his head at her instead. “Don’t know; won’t hurt to see what she needs before Buer’s other Sage comes to pick her up. Might be a while.”

He waved a commanding hand at the two of them, instinctively issuing his words as an order, not a statement. “Figure things out; I’m going inside.” He was through the doors before either could say anything else to him.

Welcome home.

He had a sudden sinking suspicion that the traveler hadn’t moved his things out after all, even though most of three days was plenty of time to remove the minimal amount of possessions he’d acquired. He headed straight up the stairs, taking them two at a time in a sudden nervous urgency, turned down the left hall, and swept open the door that had been his.

Not only had Aether not moved his things out, a dark wood desk and chair matching the other furniture had appeared in the empty corner of the room, and placed on the desk tauntingly was a new stack of reports and the very map he’d taken to show Buer, pins and all. Behind the desk was a door that he was absolutely sure had not existed when he’d been here just a few days ago, and when he pushed it open he found a small bathroom, complete with a modern Fontaine-style shower and sink - the very latest design. He was suddenly certain that if he went outside and looked, there’d be a new section of wall jutting out next to that wing of the house.

He didn’t need a bathroom; he wasn’t human - the most he’d use it for was to wash off grime occasionally. He turned back around with an exasperated sigh, only to spot a brand-new miniature fireflower petal burner, with an accompanying minimalist tea set that had miraculously appeared on the bench he’d been using as a table, a canister of his favorite tea sitting right next to it, daring him to make some. He had to admit, as he grudgingly walked over and picked up one of the cups, that it was an elegant set, dainty golden blossoms and spreading branches on a glossy black porcelain that gave way to a deep blue finish on the inside.

He was not going to make tea in this stupidly tempting tea set that he didn’t need and hadn’t asked for - he was offended that the traveler thought he could be bribed so easily with the one singular food that he’d admitted to actually liking, and he was going to let the man know that in no uncertain terms once he saw him again-

…after he finished making tea with his new tea set, his hands already automatically halfway through the motions. Damn it all, he’d caved way too easily on that.

How the hell was he supposed to respond to this?

There was absolutely no reason for the traveler not to have kicked him out. There was even less reason to add things to his room like he was going to stay there permanently. (And the tea set? The beautiful tea set that had to have been custom ordered with that particular shade of deep blue? In what conceivable scenario did you get that for a former enemy temporarily staying in your house?)

It was like Aether was deliberately trying to piss him off. This was worse than the damn pancakes had been.

He was going to have to get back at him somehow, to at least salvage some of his pride. His fingers drummed against the bench absentmindedly as he waited for the tea to brew and wrestled with the unexpected problem. He admittedly hadn’t spent any of the mora he’d earned from their commissions - he had nothing to spend it on - but that would hardly be enough to buy something half the cost of this exquisite craftmanship. 

Well, since it was a food related gift, perhaps he could return the favor in kind? In the time he’d spent there, Aether would always make dinner for Paimon when they got back from whatever their itinerary for the day had been. He suspected they thought he didn’t know how to make anything besides tea, so maybe he should prove them wrong. Have dinner waiting for them, this once, and rub their noses in it when they liked it (they would. Paimon liked everything despite what she might say, and he knew Aether liked rice dishes, which were also Kazeharu’s favorite).

Still, that wouldn’t be nearly enough to account for all the rest of the little things the traveler kept adding on, bit by bit. He’d have to give it some serious thought if he wanted to be able to even things out before Aether got too far ahead.

For now, though, he was going to take his time and pour this inaugural cup of tea with his new pot, and he watched as the warm liquid slowly rose up the sides and cast rippling amber shadows into the depths of the bowl. The steam curled tantalizingly above the surface as he tipped the pot back and it stilled, and he could almost taste the bitter tang of it on his tongue already.

He’d drunk the first cup slowly, simply savoring it while he looked out the window over the delicate golden rim, studying the impossible landscape rising from the unfathomable mists curling below them. No spirit in sight out there, so it was still managing the rescuee. 

Once he’d finished, he propped the window open so he could hear when Aether returned, then poured himself a second cup and took it over to the new desk to investigate. The various drawers held parchment, ink and pens, plain and colored drafting pencils - just about anything he might need. It was important for him to get the layout of the base down while he still remembered it, so he began sketching out a rough map as he sipped. It was nice to not have to leave his room and potentially interact with other people (like Buer’s witness, currently doing who knows what or where in the mansion) just to have some tea with his work. The sanctuary hadn’t had kitchen amenities at all, and he had to grudgingly admit that he’d miss the comforting warmth of the bitter liquid that he’d gotten used to drinking near daily over the past month, if and when he returned there.

If the traveler wanted to bribe him to stay with free tea, then Kazeharu might have to consider it after all.

He was no artist, but the map of the base didn’t need to be pretty, just clear. He labeled the parts he’d explored himself, and added parts that he’d expect to be there based on his experience in a different color as well. He did put a note about those, for the matra that might use it, in case he was wrong. He snagged another piece of paper and started sketching out the route he’d taken through the cavern, marking the spots where he’d seen particularly noteworthy enemies advisable to avoid, and writing down what he’d seen about how the entrance worked.

The brief report he added to accompany the sketches was formatted based on the ones the Fatui had used. He had no idea if there was an expected report structure for the matra, but he wasn’t technically a part of their forces so he decided he didn’t care. He included the basics of the relevant information he’d found, noting that the project delta plan (whatever it was) appeared to be the highest priority for the Fatui at the moment, and included a snapshot of the order in question. The rest of the papers he’d stolen needed more analysis before he could say anything definitive about them, so he put them to the side for now and sealed the sketches with the report into a thick envelope.

Aether could deliver it to the matra along with the witness, saving him an extra trip. He hadn’t heard him return yet, though, so he pulled over the (thankfully much smaller) pile of reports that had been sitting next to the map. There was an update on the eremite feud in the south of the desert that he read carefully, but the rest of it seemed to be mostly little Akademiya matters. If he was being honest, ninety percent of the reports he’d read after Buer started passing them on to him were ‘little Akademiya matters’. It was the other ten percent he was really interested in, things like updates on the Fatui and various bandit and treasure hoarder groups. He was happy to leave the infighting among the scholars to the little god instead.

But with that done… this was the part he’d been putting off. He had no idea how to approach this. 

‘Greetings, Albedo, it’s that puppet you put back together for the Traveler, I found out some interesting intelligence about the Fatui stepping up abductions continent-wide recently. Just thought your organization might want to know, how has your week been?’

He clicked his tongue, annoyed. He’d always found the tedious conversational conventions of diplomacy to be utterly painful. In this one respect he could agree with Tartaglia; he’d much rather fight something. At least if he was physically present for the conversation he could occupy himself with watching for tells and listening for voice cues, but there was none of that in a letter. To be fair, he wasn’t certain he wanted to send even a picture of the order through the regular postal system - he knew exactly how often the Fatui read through all of the mail they got their hands on before sending it on to its final destination. Occasionally, inconvenient letters would just mysteriously go missing instead. This letter would definitely fall into that latter category, plus might tip too much of his hand to the Fatui depending on how he addressed and signed it. Sure, it could potentially make it through unread, but he wouldn’t count on it.

He was seriously debating just pouring himself another cup of tea while he considered what to do - and he’d actually gotten up to do just that - when he finally heard the rushing displacement of air from outside that meant someone had arrived.

A quick check through the window showed that it was in fact the traveler. Finally. He paused briefly to note the ornaments on Aether’s outfit were blue now, resonating with hydro. He must’ve made it to Fontaine while I was gone. The puppet stepped back to his desk to grab the report he’d prepared, hearing the front doors open and shut as he did. Should he mention the new additions to the room?

Perhaps he should leave it for now, until he had his payback prepared.

“That’s just how he is, don’t put too much weight on it,” he heard the traveler say as he opened his own door, amusement coloring their words. “He’s a prickly cactus of a person, but fortunately he’s our cactus now.”

Fortunately? Kazeharu thought about objecting to the idea that he was anyone’s anything, let alone a cactus, but decided not to bother, spotting the woman he’d rescued sitting on one of the central couches. He wasn’t going to get into any kind of debate in front of some person he didn’t know, certainly not a silly one. Instead, he headed down the stairs and raised the sealed envelope to catch Aether’s attention. “Traveler,” he started, then thought better of it, merely saying, “for the General Mahamatra, since you’re heading that way,” as he passed it over. “I assume you talked to Buer?”

“Yes,” the blonde said, as an odd look crossed his face. Then it faded, and he simply added, “you’re lucky I’ve been checking with her to see when you’d be back.” The man cocked his head at him with a raised eyebrow and a small smile as he took the envelope. “Otherwise, I’d have been very surprised.”

He’d actually forgotten that Buer couldn’t just talk to Aether the way she did with him, not without manipulating dreams, and suppressed a sigh that he’d overlooked that, earlier. Paimon rolled her eyes at him as he said innocently, “Oops,” shrugged, and turned to hurry back upstairs before the traveler could spot the growing embarrassment on his face.

Once they’d finally organized everything and left- something about placing the containing teapot in a physical space so it could be exited nearby - it was time to put his ochazuke counter-strategy into motion. He commandeered the teapot spirit’s help to locate enough matching dinner bowls and chopsticks for the display he was planning, and while it was looking, he started on the rice and the tea. It was a delicate process, timing all the ingredients so they would be ready at the same time. Ochazuke was a simple enough dish in essence, but it was the execution that truly made it shine, and he was going to make certain that his was so perfect even that bottomless stomach would be satisfied.

Just in case, though, he was preparing an extra large serving for her.

He was just gently placing the pickled plums that were the crowning jewels of his masterpiece when he heard the front door open again.

“Took you long enough,” he said flippantly, placing the last plum and picking up the tray.

The two stared at the artistically arranged bowls of steaming rice quietly steeping in tea with perplexed expressions, Paimon’s mouth half-open in confusion, and Aether’s eyebrows halfway up his forehead. Honestly. You’d think they’d never seen rice before. “Eat before it gets cold,” was all he said, setting it down on the little dining table by the kitchen and folding his arms expectantly.

“Are you… trying to poison us?” Paimon said hesitantly, floating closer to eye the bowls suspiciously.

“Rude,” he snapped, tilting his head back to glare down his nose at the offending sprite. The traveler, at least, simply shrugged and picked up the nearest bowl, sitting down and taking a bite. His eyebrows shot up again as he did, the surprise on his face quickly morphing into appreciation. That was the reaction Kazeharu had been looking for, and his posture relaxed, radiating smug satisfaction.

Aether gestured at Paimon with his chopsticks as she picked the biggest of the bowls up, seemingly encouraging her to try it. “S’good,” he got out through the rice occupying his mouth, amber eyes near sparkling with approval. The dubious poke she gave the dish with her tongue in response was almost comical, her reluctance to try it conflicting with her obvious appetite.

“Of course it’s good,” he said with a snort, picking up his own small bowl as the distrustful little menace hastily began shoveling hers into her mouth, making up for lost time. “I made it, after all.” He would never debase himself by eating like a starving animal the way Paimon was, and wasn’t terribly happy to be sitting at a table with someone who was, but privately he acknowledged that both their reactions had been exceptionally gratifying.

Take that, traveler.

“Paimon thinks Wanderer should cook more often!” she said, chewing rapturously, eyes bright and cheeks full.

“Don’t get used to it,” he said with a haughty sniff. “I just felt like having ochazuke today.” Aether smiled that little smile at him over his bowl in response, as though he knew exactly how much of a lie that was.

“O-oh,” was the dismayed reply from across the table, and now the full force of Paimon’s ‘but I’m so hungry, traveler’ face was being directed at Kazeharu instead. That was new. And an entirely unintended result.

“What’s that look for?” he said, eyeing her apprehensively. Surely she wasn’t going to start expecting him to feed her all the time, was she? “If you want more, I made more,” and he gestured to the kitchen where there was another bowl sitting. He’d meant it for the teapot spirit, but it had thanked him for the thought and declined. 

He watched her dart over to the kitchen to claim it, and thought again about what would happen when the traveler left Teyvat.

“Aether,” he said, still looking at the flying nuisance across the way, “give me your hand.” He got a tilt of the blonde’s head and a concerned look at that, but the hand was offered without question. Kazeharu took it, then hesitated, not sure how he wanted to phrase the matter. He knew the other would be able to feel his conflicting emotions.

Paimon wasn’t about to let that slide, though, and she pointed at them dramatically with a loud gasp. “NO FAIR,” she burst out, flying back to the table with her new bowl. “Paimon knows what that means! When you hold hands with the Traveler it means you want to talk about something without Paimon listening in!”

To be fair, she was right, but he wasn’t about to admit that, especially not with what he’d been planning to talk about. “Oh, really?” he said, quirking a mischievous eyebrow. “Maybe I actually just wanted to hold the Traveler’s hand, did you ever think about that?” He made a show of comfortably settling his hand into the other’s grasp, fingers curling gently around the blonde’s as their hands rested on the table. 

“Paimon doesn’t believe you,” she said with a pout, hands on her hips. From the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a faint pink hue creeping up Aether’s face. Oh, now that’s interesting. He filed that away to think about later. 

“If you don’t believe me, here’s my other hand,” and he offered it to Paimon, not expecting her to actually grab onto it. She looked back and forth between them suspiciously, not hearing any mental chatter. “I told you,” he said with a smirk, knowing that his growing amusement was clearly felt by both the others. The traveler had given in to his embarrassment, covering his face with his unoccupied hand. Kazeharu suppressed the urge to cackle gleefully at how uncomfortable the other man was, merely letting his smirk widen. There was absolutely no way he was going to be the first to let go now. He was going to milk this unexpected opportunity for every. single. drop. 

Paimon dropped his hand with a muttered, “Ugh, you’re being so weird today,” and went back to eating her second bowl, as they sat there with their hands clasped. It seemed to be a contest now - who would break first? The alien? Or the puppet? It was the traveler in the end, of course, though he didn’t pull his hand away until it was time to usher the little gremlin to bed.

The victorious smirk stayed on Kazeharu’s face the entire time he was doing the dishes. He’d call that payment in full for Aether’s presumptuous furniture acquisitions, if in an unexpected manner. It turned out to be quite a satisfying transaction.

Chapter Text

I hate how easy you make things look. I hate your army of friends and your stupid unending patience with them. I hate how you keep trying to make me one of them.

I hate that I feel bad about Teppei. I don’t give a single rat’s fart about the guy but I know he was your friend and somehow that changes things, and I hate it.

I hate your stupid fucking smile and your stupid pretty eyes and I hate every single hair on your stupid miserable archon-damned head. I hate that after everything that’s happened I don’t completely despise spending time with you. I hate that admitting it makes me feel weak.

I think, most of all, that I hate how I don’t hate you. 

Paimon’s favorite story was the Moonlit Bamboo Forest. She could recite every word by heart just as easily as Aether could, now, and yet she still wanted to hear it again and again, especially the tale about the three moon sisters. For some reason she would always cry at the thought of the morning stars left all alone in the night, with only the one sister’s dead body to keep them company.

Eventually, he’d started spinning a little extra tale for her to ease the pain, and he’d tell it to her right after he read the original story. He would tell her about how while the one sister could be seen in the sky, and the other had fallen deep into the spiral abyss, the third sister was nowhere to be found. This, he said, was because the morning stars had been so distraught upon the deaths of the sisters that they had taken a piece of the third sister - that had fallen to the world below and into the unending ocean - before it could sink entirely, and from that piece and their grief and their love they created a tiny moonlet in their memory. 

But the little moonlet wasn’t strong enough to stay so high in the sky with the morning stars, so she had fallen all the long, long way back to Teyvat, and she’d bumped her head so hard she’d forgotten all about the stars that brought her to life. But, since she’d landed she’d been traveling all around and making all sorts of new friends, and one day, she’d grow up big and strong, and be able to rejoin the morning stars so they would never have to cry again. 

She would always fall asleep so easily after that, clutching her little starry night light to her chest like it was one of the morning stars themselves. He thought it was rather cute, and he’d ruffle her hair and tuck her in with it like it was a stuffed animal.

Tonight was no different, and once she’d given in to her yawns and settled down in her little bed for the night, he’d tiptoed away and slid out the door of their shared room.

“I’ve heard the story about the three moon sisters before,” Haru said from the couch, as he quietly closed the door. “But the little moonlet tale is new.”

“I made it up for her,” Aether said, realizing the man’s inhuman hearing must just be that good. “She doesn’t really know where she came from, and Kazuha said we both smelled like the stars when he met us, so it wasn’t too much of a leap to give her a little story of her own she can identify with.”

“Mmm,” Haru said, looking down at his teacup. “…she knows it’s a story, right?”

“Of course,” he said, starting towards the couch. “It doesn’t hurt to let her dream a little though.”

“Dreams hurt, when they shatter,” Haru said. Aether knew he meant his own dream of being human, all those long years ago.

He placed a hand on his chest and said, with all the sincerity he could muster, “I will do my best to make sure they won’t for Paimon, and will simply be fond memories when she grows up.” He added, after a moment, “and on that note… what did you want to talk about earlier without her?”

Haru tipped his head onto the back of the couch to offer him an innocent look without turning, fine dark hair spilling messily around his delicate upturned face, waving a nonchalant hand as he said, “Is it really so inconceivable that I might not have ulterior motives for every action I take?”

Aether gave him his most unimpressed look as he walked around the couch to sit on the other side. He knew exactly how much time the puppet spent monologuing inside his head about everything that happened, and how much of that monologue was devoted to scheming about even the smallest of actions.

“Fine, fine, I’ll stop,” the man said with a huff. “Paimon,” he said, sitting back up and propping one arm on his knee as he turned to face the traveler. “What are you planning to do about her when you have to leave Teyvat?”

The blonde’s eyebrow rose as the context for that statement and the original conversation sunk in. “Are you… worried about her?”

“No,” the wanderer said with a scowl. He stayed silent for a moment, then said, slowly, “It just… doesn’t seem like,” he paused, eyebrows furrowing, gesturing futilely with his hand as he tried to think how to say it without seeming as though he cared. “It wouldn’t be like you to just up and leave her when she… when she clearly depends on you so much.”

“I won’t,” he reassured the other man. Even if he hadn’t said the word, they both knew that abandonment was a difficult topic for him. “I’ll be staying here with her until she doesn’t need me anymore, or even longer, if she wants. I have all the time in the world; it’s not like I couldn’t spare an entire lifetime for her if she wanted it.”

“And your sister?” Those indigo eyes flicked up to stare straight into his soul, almost pleading with him. “What if she doesn’t… want to spend that lifetime here with her?”

The traveler offered him an uneasy grin. “She’s spent hundreds of years here on Teyvat seeking revenge already, a few more probably wouldn’t hurt, right?”

Haru’s flat stare and silence told him exactly what he thought of that.

“At this point,” Aether admitted softly, folding his hands together and resting his chin on them, “it wouldn’t be the first time she’s turned and left me behind after I’ve found her. I would hope that this time, though, she’d at least tell me where she was going so I could catch up later, instead of just saying we’ll meet again.”

That caught the wanderer’s attention, and he sat straight up, eyes hardening and tension building in his frame as he inquired, too calmly, “You did say you’d seen her before, but you actually talked to her?”

“It turns out,” he said, avoiding that piercing stare, “that she’s not interested in traveling with me until she’s finished spearheading the Abyss Order’s efforts to do… whatever it is they’re doing here. She told me so herself.” He raised his head, quoting the words that had seared their way into his heart as she’d spoken them. “I cannot go with you to the next world to find a new home… at least, not yet. Until the Abyss has engulfed the thrones, my war with destiny will see no end.”

“And then she left you,” Haru said, his voice flat and dangerous. He set down his empty teacup on the table in front of them with a loud click, before bracing his arms on his knees and threading his fingers together in a loosely interwoven knot to glare at Aether over them.

“Well, she also told me to keep traveling to find out the truth of this world, but…” but what? She had in fact turned and left him, taking a portal out to go who knows where and do Abyss Order things. There wasn’t really anything he could add to that statement. “…essentially, yes.”

“Look, Traveler… Aether, I know you’ve got yourself in a twist because she’s family - family is supposed to be a lot of things and Archons know it hurts like hell when it’s nothing close - but we’ve both been around long enough to know you can’t both respect someone and keep things from them. That shit just doesn’t work.” The puppet eyed him over his clasped hands, interlocking fingers untwining so he could steeple his hands and aim them pointedly at Aether, as though he were patiently explaining something to a small child. “You, for instance, may not have liked me but you at least respected me enough as a person to tell me the truth of my past when I asked. Lumine didn’t even try to explain this ‘truth’ to you before she left, did she?”

No, she hadn’t. That was the part that hurt the worst, because he would have listened as long as she’d asked, just to have some clue as to what she was thinking. It hurt, because it meant she didn’t trust him. Not with what she knew, not with what she wanted. They had never had so immense a gap between them before, in all their years traveling the stars.

He wasn’t sure it could ever be bridged, let alone closed so they were of one mind again, and he felt that hollow ache in his chest rise to engulf him at the thought.

“…and now you’re moping,” Haru said, leaning his chin on one hand and observing Aether with a frown. His other hand traced the rim of his empty cup with a single elegant finger. “You do this every time she comes up. You can’t keep letting her get in your head like this.”

“What exactly do you want me to do about it?” The blonde sagged back into the couch, just the thought of the baffling mess sapping his energy and leaving him drained and empty. “It’s not like I can just avoid certain things when thousands of years traveling together means almost everything reminds me of her somehow. A vista I would have shared with her, a food I know she’d like, the tiniest little things like whether or not the spoons at this restaurant have square-edged handles or smoothed ones the way she prefers.”

The wanderer blinked, startled, as a sudden thought occurred to him. “…is that why all of the silverware in your house has rounded handles?” Aether shrugged, helplessly. Of course it was. That was exactly what he meant when he said everything, anything, could somehow be about Lumine.

They were both silent for a moment. Then the other man said, in all seriousness, still radiating cold anger, “Want me to pound some sense into her for you? I’d understand if you don’t want to hit her yourself because she’s your sister, but I think someone might need to.”

 Amber eyes flicked up in shock to meet clear blue ones that held no trace of mockery. Oh, dear. “Haru, no. Please don’t try to fight my sister. I know you… you’re doing your best to be a better person, and that won’t help either of you.” He grimaced, imagining the disaster that would be.

“I don’t know about that,” the puppet said with a mischievous grin, “you fought me and now I apparently live in your house.”

Aether choked on his next sentence, swallowing it to address the sudden change of subject instead. He’d expected it at some point today, but he hadn’t been prepared for it right now. “Well, I mean, I wasn’t even using the room before, you might as well keep it.”

“That doesn’t explain why you added a personal bathroom to it in the miniscule amount of time that I was gone,” the wanderer said, quirking an eyebrow. “I’m not human, you know, I don’t need one.”

There was a convenient excuse ready for this topic, at least. “Oh, well, when I saw how nice the ones in Fontaine were I decided to upgrade my own bathroom, and I figured that I could add one to your room and the guest room while I was at it. The Adeptal replication techniques are incredibly useful for quick domain modifications, you know.”

From the way Haru squinted at him dubiously, it seemed he didn’t quite believe the statement, but he let it go with a “well, I suppose that’s acceptable, then. I guess I can forgive you for that part, at least.”

“It’s my house, you know, I can add things to it if I want,” the blonde said with an amused huff. He hadn’t expected the wanderer to be so touchy about the unspoken invitation to stay, but it was… almost cute in its own unconventional way. At least he seemed to have accepted it, which made it worth the trouble.

“Maybe I should check to see if you actually added one to the guest room, though,” the other man added, still squinting.

Aether gasped, laying a hand on his chest and feigning affront. “Are you accusing me of lying, my dear Wanderer? I would never.”

The only response he got to that bit of theatre was a disbelieving laugh and a shake of the man’s head. “Dumbass,” he said, with what almost sounded like fondness threaded through the amusement. “You’re lucky I don’t murder people anymore, or you’d be my first target.”

“Aww, really?” Haru might as well have said he cared about him, putting him first. “I’m honored. I’d have thought that would be the Doctor.” (Wait, maybe he shouldn’t have brought the man up…)

“Oh, I’m not planning to murder Dottore,” the puppet said, mouth twisting in an unpleasant sneer. “I’m planning to torture, mutilate, and utterly terrorize each individual segment for as long as I can keep them alive and breathing.” He raised one slim finger in emphasis. “There’s a slight difference there.”

As disturbing as that sounded, Aether could kind of agree that the Doctor sort of deserved that, after his crimes. What did he even say to that, though? The first thing that popped into his head, apparently. “…well, as long as you don’t do it in here, I guess.”

“Oh? Did my perfect mechanical ears mishear?” Haru looked utterly delighted at the lack of objection, and one of those familiar smirks crept onto his face. “The Traveler, the one and only hero of half of Teyvat, the bright and shining star of the entire continent, chronically conscientious and pure-hearted, is magnanimously allowing me my bloodthirsty revenge?”

He couldn’t help but roll his eyes at the mocking eagerness being directed at him by the other man. “I can’t say I’m encouraging it, but I mean… the world would definitely be better off without him in it. Any version of him, however it ends up happening.”

“Hah! If only your devoted followers knew you weren’t as much of an angel as they thought,” the wanderer said, leaning back against the couch as his smug grin widened. “Oh, I’d pay to see the looks on their faces.”

Aether knew he should probably be concerned about the way the puppet’s eyes were sparkling in genuine enthusiasm right then, but… it was a good look on him. Much more appealing than the hollow disinterest that still showed up more often than anything else. He didn’t want to take that from him, however it got there.

“You’re terrible,” he said with a sigh, deciding to just not address it.

The grin hadn’t dimmed in the slightest, and now a raised eyebrow joined it. “Oh? Does that mean you didn’t actually mean it?”

“Mean what?” he said, turning his head to watch the puppet lounge against the couch arm with all the inhuman grace and arrogance of an unholy predator.

“That you think I’m doing my best.” The shit-eating grin was now directed straight at Aether, with taunting eyes to match.

Oh. “Just because your best is still terrible doesn’t mean it’s not your best. You’ve only threatened to kill me once today, you know.” He shrugged, amused despite himself. “I’d say that’s a marked improvement over actually trying to kill me.”

“And yet, the moment I was unsupervised, I did kill someone again - while I was gone,” Haru said, face smoothing into unreadable calm. The eyes that had been so bright with laughter just a moment ago were now studying Aether’s face in minute detail, as though searching for a specific reaction. Judgment? Condemnation?

The blonde hesitated. If he was bringing it up, then something about it must be bothering the man (which he would also say was a sign he really was doing what he could). “Tell me about it, then.”

“It was just some idiot Fatuus who happened to be in the way,” he said, with another casual wave of his hand. “I could’ve snapped his neck as soon as I’d taken his stealth module, and instead I asked the man if there was any reason to spare him. I don’t really know why I did it, because I ended up killing him anyway.” He folded his arms, lowering his head and eyebrows furrowing over those shadowed eyes. “Wouldn’t it have been easier to just not waste my time?”

After a small pause, he added with an irritated scowl, “But the most annoying part is I keep thinking about it, which is definitely a waste of time.”

The traveler couldn’t help the small smile of understanding that crossed his face. “I think that, more than anything, ought to show you that you really are trying. You’re not just going through the motions and paying lip service to the idea of redemption, you’re really considering how you approach the things you do now.”

It was hard to put it into words, especially in this still-unfamiliar language, but he tried. “You’ve never pretended that any of your actions were anything but what they were, no matter how terrible - and you don’t shy away from the opportunities you’re given to make reparations, no matter how small. I see how seriously you approach each task you set yourself, and the sheer determination underneath the sarcasm you veil yourself in.” Aether leaned forward, and tried to convey through his words and smile just how much he was truly touched by the way this grumpy would-be god hid so much sincerity under that blunt, uncaring facade. “It’s honestly impressive how dedicated you are and I can’t help but want to see you through to the end-”

“Stop, stop, I get it, that’s enough,” the puppet said holding one hand out in protest, the other covering his reddening face. The deepening scowl on his face seemed to be almost entirely appalled indignation at the mortifying humiliation of unprompted appreciation.

That was unexpected, actually. Was he really that out of sorts over someone acknowledging how hard he was trying? “No, really-“

He was cut off with a sharp gesture. “I get the picture, just stop talking already.”

“You sure?” he said with a little grin, needling the other man a bit more. It wasn’t often that he managed to keep him so off-balance - usually it was the other way around. “I haven’t even mentioned all the little things you’ve been contributing to the Akademiya yet-”

The pure fury in Haru’s eyes was only matched by the intensity of the beet-red blush on his face. “I’m going to kill you,” he hissed, fingers curling into claws. 

“Aw, no,” Aether said, laughing helplessly at the sight, “that makes two death threats today. I thought for sure you were finally going to break your record.”

The wanderer stopped abruptly, mouth open as he processed that. “… do I seriously threaten you at least twice a day? Is that something you’re actually counting?”

“I mean… yes?” The blonde cocked his head to one side, watching the blush start to fade from the other’s face as the conversation turned serious again. “It was a pretty good gauge of your mood at first, now it’s habit, really.”

Haru frowned, returning to the point he kept getting stuck on. “Why exactly do you want me staying in your house again?”

“Little things, I guess.” He shrugged, knowing that he couldn’t just say he’d missed the man, for fear of scaring him away. How to say it without saying it? “The house felt emptier while you were gone. Quieter, without the sassy comments, and bland without the biting smell of your tea.” Lonelier, without that piercing indigo stare and sly grin, without the elegant fingers making graceful gestures to accompany the rude remarks. “Even Paimon seemed to feel the absence of her favorite arguing buddy.”

He was rewarded with a huff and a roll of those beautiful eyes, and the wanderer not getting up to leave. “I was hardly gone at all, don’t be so dramatic about it.”

He gave the man his best pout. “I’ll be dramatic if I feel like it, thank you very much.”

“Aww, are you sad now? Did I hurt the poor Traveler’s precious feelings?” He grinned at Aether and offered one hand, wiggling his fingers enticingly. “Do you need someone to hold your hand again and make it all better?”

Tempting, really. But he didn’t think he could handle another round of that intense gaze analyzing his decidedly positive reaction to holding hands with his former enemy, at least not so soon. Definitely not without Paimon there as a distraction. “I think I’d rather have a hug, thanks.”

“Ew,” the puppet said, pulling his hand back and wrinkling his nose at the idea. “Well, now you’re not getting either.”

“Ah well, I tried.” He shrugged, only slightly disappointed. “Though to be quite honest, I’d really be much more interested in sparring with you again right now.”

“In the middle of the night?” Haru cocked an inquisitive eyebrow at him. “I don’t need sleep, but I thought you did.”

“It can wait until morning, but I wanted to see if you’d be interested first.” He’d love to be able to test his new abilities against the sheer speed of the wanderer’s relentless slashes - just the thing to keep him on his toes while he familiarized himself with the element’s quirks. “I’ve only just attuned to hydro, and I need to try out all these new possibilities somehow.”

The wanderer leaned forward, the tiniest hint of a sly smile forming as he spoke. “What would you do if I said no?”

He waved his hand dismissively. “Eh, there’s the training dummies, but it’s just not the same as a living opponent. Probably go hunt down random slimes to throw around for a bit.”

Both eyebrows shot up, disappearing under messy bangs. “I think I’m offended. Slimes are barely alive at all, and you’d replace me with them?”

“Well," Aether said, a fond smile on his lips and a taunting glint in his eyes, “you could always say yes instead.”

Chapter Text

I hate that I feel guilty for hurting you, and I hate that I’m sorry.

I’m sorry for trying to kill you. I’m sorry for Teppei. I’m sorry for hurting your forest watcher friend, and I’m sorry for making Haypasia a little crazy because I wanted her to love me. I’m sorry for being an asshole. I’m sorry for being jealous. I’m sorry for every little goddamn thing I’ve ever done, and I’m sorry that I’m writing all this bullshit down for you to read and by all the gods and archons I hope you never actually do.

And I’m sorry. I’m just sorry. I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorryI’msorryI’msorryssorrysorrysorry

The last few words were written with such force that the paper tore, and the rest of the letter is blank.

He’d spent the night sorting through the other stolen papers, after Aether had finally gone to bed. Diagrams of security measures, lists of equipment and personnel, schedules for code and shift changes. He’d even stolen a comprehensive overview of the base’s estimated overhead and daily expenses. The list of current codes would probably be changed as soon as they realized the base had been infiltrated (in all likelihood they had already been changed). It could still potentially be useful if they hadn’t, though, as according to the code change schedule, there were still seventeen days until these ones were planned to be replaced. 

The sun was rising as he scribbled a few last notes in the margins of each page, pointing out useful data and circling weak points on diagrams. He wasn’t explaining how he knew these things, though. That was a rabbit hole he was not prepared to go down, yet.

He flipped through the pages one last time, then stacked them together and slid them into a folder. Perhaps the traveler would be willing to deliver them again, before he returned to Fontaine.

Buer, he said, reaching out for her as he busied himself making a fresh pot of tea, taking a moment to admire the beautiful set again as he did.

Good morning, Kazeharu, she replied, as chipper as ever. The mental smile that flashed through his mind was just as bright as her real ones. You’ll be glad to know that we’ve settled most of the issues surrounding our rescued grandma, aside from safely returning her to her family. I also read the report you gave to Cyno. You have no idea what this project is?

No, I don’t, he admitted, taking a sip from his newly steaming tea, leaning against the windowsill and watching the sunlight’s rosy fingers stretch across the gardens, as the morning sun inched past the mountain peaks. The name is unfamiliar to me, and that could mean it was started after my defeat, but it could also be a codename for a project even mid-ranking Harbingers weren’t aware of, or a general name for a project I did know about. He frowned over the rim of his cup. I would need to locate more information to ascertain which. I doubt I’d be able to find that information in Irminsul right now without spending a lot of time searching through the dregs - it’s an incredibly generic project name, after all.

He could feel her turning that over in her thoughts, considering it carefully. You wrote that you believe the type of order indicates this is a multi-nation effort?

Yes. Orders like these, mass-printed and produced, are too expensive for small changes sent to one or two places. The Fatui only use them for organization wide efforts. He seriously doubted that would have changed in the short time since he’d left. Whether or not that is every nation or just a few, I can’t tell from just the order. But I think they should be alerted to the possibility.

I think you’re correct about that, she said, mischief bubbling in her thoughts. How would you like to do some traveling? I understand Mondstadt is nice this time of year. And Liyue is on the way!

The dead silence that echoed in their shared mindspace would have been deafening were they face to face.

…I will, of course, send someone else to Inazuma, if that’s what you’re worried about. I wouldn’t force you to return there. Her gentle smile rippled through his mind, genuine empathy for his complicated past there. The Traveler can handle Fontaine since that’s their current destination, and Cyno can contact Natlan.

He had to admit, that would solve the dilemma regarding the Fatui reading the mail, but …I don’t know, Buer. I haven’t left Aether’s domain yet, and I was thinking I might be able to make use of the fact that my token will take me straight back to their new base right now. That was an insane advantage he’d be an idiot not to exploit. If I teleport elsewhere, I’ll lose that. Right now I could just hop inside every time we find someone’s been taken and pull them right back out again.

As entertaining as that might be for you, I think our priority should be stopping them from being taken in the first place. A plucked blossom bears no fruit, after all. Better to keep it on the branch.

She was amused at him, he could tell, and he huffed out an annoyed sigh. Ugh, that makes too much sense. Away with you and your impeccable god-of-wisdom logic.

Her silent laughter answered him. I suspect you just wanted an excuse to go sneaking around again. There will be other chances, Kazeharu. Let the Matra handle this base. They have your map and they have far more hands to investigate all the paperwork there, while you can seek any already known intelligence regarding this project delta from our fellow countries and warn them at the same time.

But-

No buts, sweetpea. 

Not the damn nicknames again. Don’t call me that Buer. I’m not a plant.

The unfiltered affection running through her thoughts was relentless. But you require patience, and care, and a healthy dose of love just like one.

I am perfectly fine without any of those! He could feel his eye twitch in irritation, and he glared out the window, doing his best to stamp down the rising embarrassment he was feeling.

Of course you are, sweetpea, she said, thoughts filled with warmth. But with them, you’ll grow and thrive.

All he could muster in the face of that persistent bubbling cheeriness was a half-hearted, venomless, You’re the worst.

I love you too, she said, fondly, as though he’d said exactly that and not the other. Let me draw up the proper introductory papers for a diplomatic visit, and you can bring the other documents you took, and we can trade!

Actually… He spoke hesitantly, feeling as though he was shirking his duties by not leaving immediately. I agreed to spar with Aether this morning.

She was unconcerned. Enthusiastic, even. Then that gives me plenty of time to get things officially sealed and stamped! I’ll see you afterwards. Good luck!

As if he needed luck. He’d mastered his vision, now, he could definitely take the traveler.

He’d been wrong. Even uncertain and testing new abilities, the traveler had been more than a match for him. Clearly, he needed to train harder, because he’d like to kick his ass properly one of these days. (The one hundred and sixty eight dream samsara victories did not count, both because he didn’t really remember them, and because it was different fighting Aether with his vision instead of as a barely ascended deity.) At the very least he could console himself that he put up a decent fight, leaving the other man just as winded as he was.

“As the victor,” the blonde declared between gasps with a wide grin, “I think I should get a prize!” He held his hand out expectantly at Kazeharu, wiggling his fingers in feigned greed.

The world stuttered to a halt.

The traveler, flushed and breathless, haloed in morning sunlight the very color of his damnably beautiful eyes - an ethereal, incarnate sunbeam descended from beyond the false skies above - was smiling brilliantly at him and holding out his hand, expecting something.

Just what he was expecting, who knew, because it was certainly not the unprompted vision that popped into Kazeharu’s head of the other man flushed and breathless for a different reason entirely. He crushed the stray thought ruthlessly. He wasn’t thinking about that. He took the man’s hand in his instead, glaring at him from under his hat. 

“Your prize is not being killed for your insolence in demanding one. Congratulations.”

“Pfft.” The traveler was clearly choking back laughter at him, and Kazeharu scowled harder in response. Aether pulled him in closer by his hand and asked, eyes twinkling in amusement, “Are you mad that you lost?”

“No.”

“You are mad,” he said, laughing brightly.

“As if.” He could feel the idiot’s delight through their intertwined fingers, just as he knew the other could feel his smouldering irritation. “I’m merely annoyed by how much time we’ve wasted. I’ve got work, you know.”

“You can’t work all the time,” the blonde said, smiling that damn smile of his. “I’d forgotten how much fun an aerial match can be. Would you be up for a rematch or two? It’d be good practice for both of us.”

“Mmm.” Regular training was a good way to hone and maintain your abilities, if you weren’t constantly fighting every day. He supposed it couldn’t hurt, especially since he was still discovering new tricks with his vision. He shrugged noncommittally after a moment, scowl softening into a frown. Apparently the traveler took this as an affirmative, and his smile widened.

“Same time tomorrow?”

“Sure, whatever,” he said, just to get the conversation over with. “Don’t get used to it.”

He turned to go, only to meet an unexpected tug of resistance. Puzzled, he looked back, eyes falling on their joined hands.

There was a silly smile on the traveler’s face as he said, teasingly, “…you’ll have to let go of my hand if you want to get back to work, you know.” The blonde’s hand was relaxed and open now; it was Kazeharu’s firm grip around it that was still connecting them.

He tugged the brim of his hat down to hide his disbelieving grimace, abruptly dropping Aether’s hand before the man could say anything about the mortifying flash of realization that hit him at that statement. “I know that, dumbass.”

He was clearly losing his mind.

The faster he could grab those documents and teleport out of this obviously cursed domain, the better.

Barely an hour later, Kazeharu stood on the lip of the shattered stone cliffs jutting out from the aptly named Chasm, one step over the border into Liyue.

He’d never intended to leave Sumeru, really. He had no fond memories of the world outside its borders to draw him back to reminisce, and the only people he’d admit to caring about were the dendro archon herself, and the ever-moving traveler. Neither of them would need him to leave the nation to see them. But here he stood, staring into the depths of the massive hole beneath him, debating how to cross.

It was a long way down. The thought brought back memories of that near-fatal fall from the Shouki no Kami, and though he had never been afraid of heights, the powerless state of paralysis he’d been in was a different matter. That, that he would pay not to ever experience again. (Though perhaps he wouldn’t mind if the traveler were to catch and hold him in those strong arms again - no, he still wasn’t thinking about that.)

“Do not bother to jump,” a harsh voice interrupted his musing. “The Traveler told me to watch for you should you traverse our lands. If you die, it will not be on my watch.”

“I wasn’t going to,” he snapped reflexively, before recognizing the voice. You have got to be kidding me. He turned his head incredulously, just to see the very adeptus he had met one single time, perched on a rock above him, spear dangling casually from relaxed fingers. To an inexperienced fighter, he would seem stoic and unconcerned, but to Kazeharu, it was clear that he was prepared to spring into action in a heartbeat.

“Did he seriously ask the single remaining yaksha to babysit me while I’m in Liyue? Why would you even care?”

Xiao’s sharp yellow gaze didn’t shift, staring straight at the wanderer in warning. “Things he judges important will always be important to me as well.”

Kazeharu tilted his head back to stare haughtily down his nose at the other man. “Then be sure to keep the same sort of eye on him when he’s here. If he’s roping you into our agreement to prevent each other from killing ourselves, I’d think it only fair.”

The yaksha stilled even further at this, an unmoving force condensed into one singular moment of intense focus that drilled into the wanderer’s own unflinching eyes, searching for signs of falsehood. The voice, when it finally came, was quiet, veiled worry cloaked in sternness.

“Iviathe… desires death?”

“…It’s a possibility he’s raised.” He wouldn’t elaborate further. Aether’s secrets were his; Kazeharu was merely delivering a warning.

The man spun his polearm out and back in dismissal, flicking his hand at the end with a practiced gesture.

“Why.”

“I won’t presume to speak for him.” That, at least, he would leave to the traveler. “If he wants to answer that when you ask, he will.”

Xiao was silent for a long moment, his eyes never once leaving the puppet’s. “The Traveler,” he said at last, “will also not die on my watch.”

Good enough. Kazeharu gave a brief nod, which the yaksha returned, curtly. They had an understanding. The traveler was not allowed to die.

There wasn’t anything else to say, and the adeptus merely stood, disappearing with a flare of anemo to wherever he was keeping watch from. The lack of useless drivel and pleasantries that most people engaged in was a refreshing change. Kazeharu could appreciate that, and decided that Xiao fell on the less annoying side of the scale on which he judged people.  

After that encounter, he simply turned and lifted into the air to cross the Chasm directly. The harbor was a couple days by foot - but he could make it far less if he flew, so he called the wind, its keening shrill pitching ever higher as he forced himself directly into its face. The rushing air couldn’t sting his perfect glass eyes, or tear his artificial skin, and as he leaned even further into the wind he achieved speeds that mortals could only dare to dream of.

Any travelers below would have seen only a flashing streak of white and blue, a trail of anemo particles drifting in his wake. Perhaps they would make something of it; perhaps they would simply assume it was an adeptus in haste.

He slowed as he approached the city proper, though, knowing that flaunting his skills so prominently where people might get hurt was just asking for Millileth attention that he did not need and could possibly hurt his mission. Thus the travelers on the outskirts were instead treated to the sight of a delicate, inhumanly beautiful man with red-lined indigo eyes and cropped dark hair pulling out of a rocketing dash and gently drifting to the ground, one hand tugging the resummoned kasa into place as a single foot gracefully touched the wooden planks of the arching bridge into the city, richly colored clothes swaying and floating in the air as he settled back into the grasp of gravity at last.

The Millileth standing guard at the other end of the bridge were clearly concerned by such a striking display, but permitted him to pass since he was apparently behaving and not using his skills as he entered such a populated area. His clothes were ornate enough to serve as a warning to those who saw him in any case; the usual bright colors and attention-catching clothing that cautioned passerby this one is dangerous, blessed with a vision; do not provoke this predator. It was a long-standing custom, in every nation he’d visited, to declare yourself in this manner. Even the Fatui, with their penchant for cloak and dagger diplomacy, designed their uniforms in such a manner, though theirs usually declared delusions. (After all, if true stealth was needed, they could disappear entirely.) Newly granted vision holders were allowed a little leeway, of course, but simply possessing a vision opened up so many opportunities for high-paying work that it was never a concern for very long.

He had never spent much time in Liyue Harbor as a Harbinger; that had been the eleventh’s territory, after all - currently Tartaglia, who he was going to avoid at all costs - but he knew his way around well enough. It wasn’t so far from Sumeru as to be truly snowy here, in the winter months, but the chill in the air was a far cry from the lush warmth of the rain forest. Not for the first time, he was both glad that such things as temperature were of no concern to him, and concerned that his lighter clothing would give away his status as a nonhuman to the others walking the streets, wearing thicker, warmer clothes to combat the cold. There were a few stares here and there, but nothing more, and they quickly looked away when they realized they’d been noticed. 

It seemed necessary to give the Northland Bank a wide berth, even though it was directly on his route - Childe or no, he had no desire to run into any other old colleagues that might be here, even if they wouldn’t recognize him. The detour was lengthy, but he felt it worth the trouble.

Once past the markets and into the layered terraces above that held the homes and offices of the wealthier citizens, he started paying more attention to his surroundings. Somewhere around here, the Qixing’s public office - the Yuehai Pavilion - was located, and he would need to start there, presenting his documents and proof of identity so he could secure an audience with someone who was actually capable of getting things done.

The place was just as grandiose as he’d expected, once he found it and headed inside to speak with the first available secretary, stating his now not-so-new name, rank, and his purpose for the visit. He offered his credentials before he was even asked - he wanted to get this step of the journey over with as fast as possible.

He suspected he would be spending a great deal of time waiting, since it was such short notice, and resigned himself to the impending boredom, as his papers were taken and examined carefully.

There wasn’t even any tea.

Chapter Text

He is not the naive Kabukimono anymore, seeing stars in the eyes of the man who had found him, had kept his secret, told him he was beautiful just as he was, puppet joints and all. But he can’t deny that there is something about the traveler that resurrects that long-dead feeling of… warmth. A lightness in his chest that is only present in Aether’s company.

He hates how vulnerable it makes him feel.

He was seated by a window, one leg crossed over the other and resting his chin on his hand, absentmindedly watching the crowd flow by the building, when he heard footsteps approach him at last.

“My apologies for the extended wait, Sage Niwa,” said a soft, feminine voice. Turning his head, he saw another face he had only ever seen in the Fatui’s confidential records. Ganyu, the half-adeptus secretary of the Qixing, holding the post for thousands of years. This, finally, was someone he could divulge his true mission to, so that he could be on his way again.

She offered his credentials back to him and said, demurely, “Your papers are all in order, of course. We were simply not expecting any diplomatic contact from Sumeru, as it has been a long time since they have reached out to other nations.”

“Things have changed, since Lesser Lord Kusanali was freed,” was all he said in reply, standing at her gesture and following her past the outer rooms and into the back.

“Yes,” the half-qilin agreed, “we have heard a great deal about the changes she is making as she takes full control of the nation. It is not an understatement to say that we are hopeful relations between our two nations might soon return to the close friendship we had under the Greater Lord Kusanali, before she lost her memories and was deposed.” She offered him a wide-eyed look of regret and said, seemingly sincere, “It was such a shock to learn the full tale, when the Traveler’s deeds were carried back in their entirety. To have imprisoned their own god…”

He didn’t know what to say to that. He himself was not exactly on the right side of that particular conflict when it happened. Not that people remembered that, but still. He knew. 

“Would you care for some tea?” the secretary asked, as she held open the door to her office.

These polite diplomatic conventions were going to be the death of him, but he managed a simple, uninflected, “Please.”

At that, Ganyu rang a delicately lacquered bell on a silver string that dropped down and into the floor, presumably to alert the kitchen that she wanted something, before seating herself gracefully behind her desk. He sat himself down in the chair in front of it, removing his hat and leaning it up against the arm of his chair, but not dismissing it. As ridiculous as it was, he would feel too exposed in this situation were it not actually with him, even if it wasn’t on his head.

“As the head secretary of the Qixing, my office is warded against eavesdroppers, Sage Niwa,” the secretary explained with a gentle smile. “Please feel free to discuss even matters of a sensitive nature here.” It was so incredibly disconcerting to be treated like this, as though he weren’t a dangerous criminal, the murderer of hundreds. It was one thing when Buer was doing it, but he still wasn’t used to it from anyone else.

“Good.” He got straight to the point, wanting to remove himself from this awkward position as fast as possible. “To wit: we recently discovered a new Fatui base in Sumeru, and retrieved an order that suggests they are and have been stepping up their efforts to abduct people. It’s a mass printed order, which suggests it’s not just localized to Sumeru, and that’s why I’m here.”

“I see,” Ganyu said, reaching out to take the photographed copy of the order he held out. She scanned it, lips thinning in a frown as she read the relevant passage. She made to hand it back but he waved her off, saying “That copy’s for your records, I have several. The other reason I’m here is to see if there’s any other information out there about the ‘project delta’ that appears to be the root cause for the abductions.”

She frowned, reading through the order again, one hand reaching up to tuck a stray lock of hair behind a curving horn. “So, in essence, you believe that the Fatui may be abducting people from other nations for this project as well? I’m afraid that counter-intelligence is not exactly my area of expertise, but I can certainly schedule a meeting for you with the Tianshu tomorrow to discuss it in more detail. He would be familiar with any mention of this project we’ve come across, and I suspect he’d be pleased to have the opportunity to connect his networks to those of Sumeru.”

Kazeharu hesitated, frowning. On the one hand, he really wanted to get this whole trip over and done with as soon as possible. On the other… he really did want to know what the hell his former colleagues were up to now. Anything he could find that would lead him to Dottore would be worth the trouble.

A knock at the door interrupted them, and Ganyu called, “Please, come in.” It was the promised tea, held on a carved wooden tray by a young woman, who greeted them both with a smile.

“Your tea, Lady Ganyu,” the woman said, setting the tray down on an empty part of the desk and immediately pouring two cups. The secretary smiled warmly over the one she was handed, saying, “It smells as good as it always does, Lingling. Just like what your mother used to make.”

The woman laughed softly at that, saying as she placed the other cup in front of the wanderer, “My mother told me you used to tell her the exact same thing when she first started here.”

“I believe I used to say the same to your grandmother as well,” Ganyu said with a smile. “It’s a wonderful family blend. I’m just disappointed that none of you will share it with me.”

He stared, disbelieving, at this oddly comfortable scene where this woman’s inhumanity was so casually mentioned and accepted by a mortal. As if it was normal. As if their differences meant nothing.

Like they were equals.

He covered his shock with a sip of the tea in question, and couldn’t hide a small grimace. It was an herbal blend, much sweeter than he preferred. At least it was just the natural flavors of the herbs, and not something sugary added on top to mask the taste of the actual tea.

“You seem uncomfortable, Sage Niwa,” he heard, and he looked up to find the other woman had left, and Ganyu was looking at him anxiously. “Was it the mention of my Adeptal heritage? I do apologize if it was unexpected…”

“Oh, don’t worry about me,” he said, waving the question off. “I’m just questioning my entire life up until this point,” he added under his breath.

He hadn’t said it quietly enough, though, as the secretary seemed all the more anxious about having unsettled him, her eyes widening in dismay. “I really am sorry, Adepti aren’t uncommon in Liyue, I understand that it must be different in Sumeru-”

“No, no it’s - it’s not - just, what on Teyvat did you do to make the humans so comfortable around you when they know?” He blurted the words out without consideration for niceties or propriety. “That one didn’t seem disturbed in the slightest that you knew her goddamn great-grandmother. It’s just…” He cut himself off before he could say anything too damning. Shit. Had that sounded too much like something a mortal wouldn’t say? ‘The humans’ he’d said, as though he wasn’t trying to be somewhat inconspicuous in his new role as one of Buer’s assistants.

“Oh,” Ganyu said with a startled blink. He could see her hastily revised assumptions flickering across her face and he grimaced, knowing his cover had been blown.

“Never mind,” he said hastily, wanting to head off whatever she might be about to say. “That’s not important, I’ve delivered Bu - Lesser Lord Kusanali’s message and the order like she wanted, so there’s no need to bother about setting up any meetings or anything; I’ve still got to head to Mondstadt too, after all.”

“Please, sir, don’t be so hasty,” she said, holding out one delicate hand in appeal. “It's getting late. Even if you left now there’s no way you could make it to Mondstadt proper before tomorrow as it is - surely you’ll want to at least take advantage of our guest facilities and stay the night in comfort.”

He could tell her he didn’t need sleep, but that would confirm her new suspicions. He could tell her that he’d already made arrangements in the city, except he hadn’t and he wasn’t going to make Buer’s job any harder by lying in the face of her nearest ally. He could tell her… what?

“There’s no need,” the puppet said reluctantly, grasping at the one truth that might satisfy her curiosity. “The Traveler has allowed me to stay in their domain, for the moment. I won’t need any accommodations.”

“Ah, yes, I’ve been told Iviathe was gifted one by Madame Ping. I haven’t had the chance to see it myself, what with all the work I have right now, but perhaps some day.”

And they were back to polite niceties. How exciting. Thrilling, even. It took a superhuman effort to prevent him from audibly grinding his clenched teeth together. Buer owed him.

He absolutely loathed diplomacy.

“I understand that the Traveler has also been appointed a Sage in the new administration?” she said, continuing with her carefully constructed inconsequential remarks. “Is that how he was persuaded to lend you his domain for this trip?”

“As of right now, Lesser Lord Kusanali has appointed two personal sages; the Traveler, and the Wanderer,” he said, avoiding the second part of the question (he still didn’t understand what was going on in the idiot’s head, after all). “The Traveler is busy with their own quest, so the Wanderer,” he jerked a graceless thumb in his own direction, “is the one that has to run her errands.”

“Oh, how charming that your titles complement each other so well,” the secretary said, raising one small hand to her mouth to hide a smile. “Was that intentional?”

“Hardly,” he said, a little bit of his usual bite creeping back in with a growl. “An unfortunate coincidence of prior profession, is all.”

She laughed at the grumpiness he was failing to conceal, a bright little titter that made him scowl in embarrassment, then cleared her throat and schooled her expression back to neutrality.

“Ahem. Returning to the topic of meeting with the Tianshu - I do believe a slight delay tonight for an early morning meeting tomorrow would also be of benefit to our allies in Mondstadt, when you reach them. As you are the one collecting information, it would be advisable to have all you can available for your next meeting so you can inform them not only of the problem, but what Liyue might have on the topic as well."

Ganyu also added after a small pause, while he was considering those unfortunately reasonable words, “I believe it would also be advisable so that we can arrange for safe communication regarding further developments on this topic and others of a like nature. I’m assuming that’s why you’re here in person, instead of sending a missive.”

“Yes,” he said, lips twisting in discomfort, knowing he’d rather have sent a message and been done with it than have had to talk to people, and realizing that was probably obvious. “Regular postal mail is not secure.”

The secretary merely nodded, as though this was a topic she’d discussed many times before. She probably had, considering she managed everything the Qixing did.

“Fine,” he said, making up his mind. He didn’t want to half-ass this, so he might as well be thorough. “I’ll speak with him tomorrow, before I leave, to make arrangements at the very least, even if there’s no immediate information to be had.”

“Excellent,” Ganyu said. “I’ll alert him this evening so he can gather any relevant materials, and before you leave I’ll give you the address of his preferred meeting space so you can simply meet him there tomorrow.”

She cleared her throat again, looking somewhat uncomfortable. “Now, it’s certainly not my place to pry, but were I to, say - hypothetically of course - meet a younger inhuman or immortal who was still finding their own place in such a human-shaped world, I would tell them that I too have struggled with that over my very long lifetime.” Damn it all, she was trying so hard to gently ease her way around the elephant in the room that he almost felt physical pain from the effort. He wanted to snarl at her to hurry up, shut up, give up, something but she was trying so hard not to offend him after his apparent embarrassment that he hesitated, and she kept speaking while he was silent. “My human half desires the warmth and connections of human society, but I was always afraid that my inhumanity would be all that anyone would see, that there would be no place for someone like me in either world I came from.

“Humans can be fearful, and judgmental, and cruel. That’s what we’re all afraid of, in the end, isn’t it?” Her eyes were soft, gentle - understanding written in the smooth curves of her face. 

“But, humans can also be kind, and forgiving, and most of all, accepting. The ones that see you for who you are and love you for all of it will adopt you - will you or nil you - and make you a part of their families lives for generations, their children and their children’s children becoming yours as well, to guide and protect, as well as to cherish for their own unique selves.

“They’ve told me before that they think of me like… a witness. Someone who will see and remember their lives and who they were long after they are gone. Someone who will remember the important traditions and the trials and triumphs of their lives, who will tell their children about them if they fall too soon.

“Not necessarily even the important things that might get written in a history book, but things like the fact they had a secret family tea blend that I really loved, or that they liked the color blue. The fact that they lived at all. 

“That they existed, and they loved, and they did their best.”

A witness.

That word struck a chord inside him. Someone who remembered the truth of a person, not just the tales and history that filtered down through the years.

Like he remembered the truth of Tatarasuna (the whole truth, now forgotten by history). The truths of his father, his Katsu, the Inspector and his masterpiece. The bitter betrayal orchestrated by the Doctor and the Fatui that had destroyed them all, in the end. The descendant of Niwa who he could never have forced himself to kill, because he was his heir, practically his own relative.

They weren’t just names on paper to him. He had known them, lived with them, maybe even loved them, if someone without a heart could love. Maybe they deserved to have someone out there who really remembered them as they were - even if it would have been better for it to be anyone else but him, at least someone did.

“I-” he started hesitantly, realizing abruptly that he’d been staring silently at the wood of the desk for longer than he should have. “I - I see. I - might know someone, who would - appreciate those words. I’ll tell him. I’m sure he’d thank you.” Awkward, so painfully awkward when they both knew he wasn’t fooling anyone and the someone was just him, but if she was going to let him cling to the tattered shreds of his pride, he’d do it.

The way her face lit up at that, you’d have thought he’d given her the moon instead of a stilted, half-hearted and roundabout thank you. “I’m so glad,” she said, seemingly relieved. “I do hope it helps.”

Kazeharu couldn’t get out of her office fast enough after that. If the gods were kind (and he knew they were not) he would never have to see the woman again and he could just bury the humiliation deep in the blackest pit of his mind to rot. This was why he didn’t do diplomacy. He’d sworn at the secretary before their meeting was even half done, hadn’t apologized, and had nearly stormed out on top of that.

He hated to admit it - for him, that was actually a resounding success. Buer have mercy on his shriveled husk of a soul, he hoped he never had to do anything like this again, and tomorrow would be the last of it. Clawing back the remnants of his dignity, he paused in the shadow of a pillar outside the pavilion to regain his composure. 

Unfortunately, it seemed the day wasn’t done with him yet, because as he turned, he caught sight of a horribly familiar mop of orange hair perched on top of a lanky human, who was holding the hand of a much smaller and nearly identical orange mop. Oh, no. Not this guy.

He froze behind the pillar, not breathing. Had they seen him? If not, could he get away without attracting attention? His eyes darted around the perimeter of the courtyard, calculating possible escape routes. Flight was out of the question; that would attract too much attention and he wasn’t going to reveal his abilities so carelessly in front of a Harbinger if he didn’t need to. Ideally, he would just wait until their backs were turned, and - the matter was taken out of his hands, as the little one turned and spotted him, saying something excitedly to the other about his hat, loudly enough that his enhanced hearing could hear it all the way across the courtyard.

As much as he loved his kasa, he cursed inwardly that its distinctiveness had betrayed him. 

The two were clearly heading in his direction now, and it was too late to pretend he hadn’t seen them. Running now would be giving too much away - that he recognized the man, that he knew enough to avoid him. The safest option would be to feign ignorance and bluff his way through this interaction.

“Hi, mister,” said the kid excitedly as soon as he was in earshot of a normal human, “your hat is super awesome! Is it heavy? Can I touch it?”

“No, you can’t touch it,” he said bluntly, huffing a sigh and folding his arms.

“Oh,” and the kid’s face fell exactly the way he’d anticipated. He ignored the small twinge of guilt and told himself sternly that no good would come of indulging the little menace’s fancies - certainly not with his elder brother right there, grinning cheerfully at him like he wasn’t also a mass murderer, hadn’t attempted to wipe this very city off the map only a few years ago.

“I’m so sorry, sir,” Childe started, “my little brother here saw your hat and just couldn’t help himself. He wants to know all about it. I have to admit myself, it’s pretty unique. Inazuman?”

Obviously, was what he wanted to say, but he held his tongue. “Yes.” Short, discouraging, clearly not interested in having a conversation. The puppet did his best to radiate unfriendliness without displaying outright hostility.

“Are you sure I can’t touch it?” the kid piped up, bouncing in place with uncontainable enthusiasm. “What if I pay you? Can I touch it then?”

The complete brazenness of this small mortal to want to bribe him, at such a young age - what was Childe teaching him? “You - what?” was all he managed to get out.

“Teucer,” said his brother, clearly flustered. “You know that’s not how you’re supposed to make friends with people.”

Friends? Oh, hell no. He was leaving, right now.

“Look, I don’t have time for this,” the wanderer said, turning to escape. The kid had been annoying enough to give him an alibi, now, so it was safe. “Yes, the kasa is Inazuman, no it’s not heavy, no you still can’t touch it, and I have places to be. So long.”

“Wait a moment, comrade!”

Comrade. What he wouldn’t give to have never heard that word again.

“What,” he said, halting briefly without turning.

“The name’s Childe,” said Childe. “Maybe I’ll see you around? You seem interesting.”

As long as he didn’t seem familiar, the man could think what he wanted. No, wait. Interesting was bad too, because he’d be paying attention to him. He did not need scrutiny from even the least subtle and perceptive of the Fatui. This was why he’d been determined to avoid Tartaglia in the first place.

“Maybe never, I hope,” he muttered in lieu of an acknowledgment, stalking off without bothering to check for a reaction. He turned into the first alley he saw, and as soon as he was out of sight promptly escaped into the safety of the traveler’s domain, at least for the night.

He’d deal with tomorrow in the morning.

Chapter Text

He hates that he keeps thinking about it anyway. He never had a name for it, back then, had never thought to learn what it was called when he had so many other things to learn about, and he doesn’t want to know now. It is bad enough that he’d developed any kind of attachment to this stupid, insecure, and overly kind idiot who is bound to leave him eventually - whose stated goal is to leave Teyvat with his sister. 

It doesn’t help that it isn’t the same kind of warmth he feels for Buer - that is more like what he’d felt for Niwa, all those years ago. 

The first thing he learned from the Tianshu was that project delta was, in fact, older than his defection. Several years older, actually. (This raised his level of concern exponentially.)

The second was that Childe had been making less-than-discreet inquiries about him after their encounter yesterday, and by this point likely knew everything contained in his identity documents. Those weren’t exactly confidential and wouldn’t reveal anything important, but he disliked knowing he’d caught their attention in any way. Still, it had been inevitable now that he was entering the stage as a player in his own right, not just a passing figure in the background of Sumeru’s inner workings. 

At least he could be confident that they wouldn’t be able to identify his loyalties (he would do anything for the little god that had taken him in despite everything and slowly pieced his broken soul back together, shard by shard - anything) or motives (Dottore would die, painfully, and the traveler would find his sister, one way or another). Their eyes might be on him, now, but he was still an enigma, and he would do his best to remain one.

Kazeharu’d spent the first part of the night after that near miss analyzing the conversation from every angle he could, replaying each expression and gesture in his head. It couldn’t be helped that he had met them in front of the Yuehai Pavilion, but the wanderer was quite certain he hadn’t given anything else interesting away. He’d been lucky that the kid had been there; he’d been a perfect excuse to cut things short without the other man trying to tail him. He had initially thought to discuss it with the traveler for another opinion, but had been dismayed (and disappointed in himself for the dismay) to learn that Aether had already been in and left again, meaning he wouldn’t be spending the night.

So much for our sparring match, he’d thought sourly, only to find the man back again in the morning specifically for said match. He’d said, laughing, “I promised, didn’t I?”

Yes, he had. But the puppet wasn’t used to people keeping their promises. It was… alarming, how much that tiny little courtesy affected him, knowing that someone had remembered to come back for him (even if it was just for something so small). He’d spent the whole walk to the teahouse meeting point stewing over it. It really shouldn’t have bothered him that much, and yet, there he was, thinking about Aether’s gentle laugh instead of what he needed to discuss that morning. 

It had taken a serious effort to banish the damnably distracting man from his mind so he could focus on the matter at hand.

The Qixing’s people hadn’t located anything specific about the project before the meeting, but the Tianshu assured him that he had personally seen the project name in reports dating back well over two years. That didn’t rule out it having started even before that, either. They’d step up their efforts, he was told - and they’d keep Sumeru in the loop if they found anything noteworthy. After that, they spent some time discussing potential locations for dead drops and other such mundane clandestine things, and the wanderer had left the meeting satisfied that they would at least take his warning seriously.

That left Mondstadt. Rather than follow the road north into the marshes, he’d taken to the air as soon as he left the city bounds, and shot straight towards the towering mountain shrouded in thick clouds that lay at the edge of the coast. He was hoping that perhaps Albedo could spare him some of the agonizing waiting time he’d suffered in Liyue by directing him straight to the right person (possibly with an escort to make things even faster).

Dragonspine was ridiculously cold even for winter in the mountains, he realized when he arrived. Unnaturally so, and he speculated that there must be something else maintaining the ice and snow in the area, especially by the usually more temperate ocean level. He’d never bothered to visit the place before, not being fond of the bleak snowy vistas of Snezhnaya and assuming it would be similar. It seemed he’d been right, skeletal trees standing silent sentinel against the sheer cliff walls and stunted pines looming through the fog as he sped by. He doubted he would be traveling back this way very often - but he still took the time to attune to the scattered waypoints he spotted, just in case. At least now, with his vision, he could simply skim across the surface of the snow rather than having to wade through however many feet of it was resting on the ground below. He might not be affected by the chill, but he could do without the snow creeping into his clothes and shifting dangerously beneath his feet.

Albedo had said that his workspace was located on the main path down from Dragonspine and into Mondstadt proper, so he recalled what he could of the layout he’d seen on maps and headed directly towards the small camp he remembered seeing circled on the outskirts. He’d hit the main road eventually and then he could follow it up the mountain. At least, that had been his plan until he started running across Fatui encampments and had to start taking detours. He could have mowed them all down without a second glance, but the mere thought of the traveler’s disappointed gaze sent him around the long way.

At that point, he let the insistent tugging of the wind in his hair pull him along. It hadn’t led him wrong yet, despite all his misgivings about trusting in the divine.

Sure enough, the wanderer followed it across the slopes and through the scattered ruins to a path that was packed solid from the passage of many feet, lying embedded between the lighter drifts of winter snow. It was a simple matter from there to follow the path up and around to the little camp set up in a hollow of the mountain too shallow to be called a true cave. Just as he’d been told, there was a simple door in the back of the hollow, and he raised his hand to knock, the sharp rapping echoing back from the rough stone around him.

It was not Albedo who answered the door. Instead it was a small red bundle of bright-eyed energy that reminded him of nothing so much as Buer herself, from the brilliant smile down to the elven ears that perked up in interest. One tiny hand held the door open, and the other clutched a worn stuffed animal of some unidentifiable species. This must be the little sister. “Good morning, Mister,” she said cheerily, blinking up at him. “Your hat is amazing! Are you here to see big brother?”

“Albedo, yes,” he said in reply, crouching down to her level so he could look her in the eyes. “Can you tell him that the Wanderer would like to talk to him?”

“Klee will go get him!” she said, slamming the door in his face and bounding off so enthusiastically he could hear her thumping rapidly across the floor even through the wood and stone. Faintly, he heard her calling, “Big broootheeerrrrrr!” and he couldn’t help but snort a laugh as he stood back up.

It wasn’t long before he heard the footsteps come running back to the door, accompanied by slower, gentler ones. This time, when it opened, Klee was accompanied by Albedo and she bounced in place excitedly as she gestured. “I brought him, Mister Wanderer!”

“I’m pleased to see you accepted my invitation, Wanderer,” the man said, only the slight upwards tilt of his lips revealing the truth of the near-emotionless expression he wore.

He tilted his head uncomfortably, not wanting the other man to misunderstand. “It’s not exactly a selfless motive that’s brought me, Chief Alchemist. You happen to be the only Mondstadt official I know.”

“The fact remains that you are here to see me, whatever the motive,” Albedo said, still smiling that faint smile, “and I remain appreciative of that fact. Please, do come in.”

Kazeharu tipped the snow off of his hat before entering, slipping his sandals off to sit with the other shoes placed by the door. He glanced at the diminutive elf girl after the door was shut behind him, then looked to Albedo. The alchemist understood immediately, and told her gently, “Klee, why don’t you go help your big brother’s big brother with his painting? We have grown up things to talk about right now.”

“Oooh! Klee and Dodoco will tell him that Mister Wanderer is here for a visit,” she said, lifting her stuffed toy to make it clear who the second person was. “Will you come play with us after you’re done? Please say you will, Mister!”

As much as he wanted to finish his trip and get back to avoiding civilization, the puppet couldn’t say no to that wide-eyed, expectant face. It just wasn’t possible, and he sighed and said, “Only for a little bit.”

“Okay! We’ll have so much fun, don’t worry!” And with that, the girl was off again, holding her arms wide and pretending to be a bird as she ran down the corridor with those same loud footsteps.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, then, Wanderer?” Albedo said as they watched her disappear around the corner.

“I’m trying to gather information about an ongoing Fatui project,” he said bluntly. “We got hold of intel stating the Fatui are increasing their kidnappings for whatever it is, and it’s probably not limited to Sumeru. I need to warn the appropriate Mondstadt officials and gather any information I can. It would probably also be a good idea for your people to review any recent missing persons cases with that in mind.”

“You’ll want to speak with the Cavalry Captain, then,” Albedo said, tapping one finger against his lips thoughtfully. “I understand you won’t want to say too much, here, but I’m afraid I can’t escort you to Mondstadt proper to introduce you to him today. However, if you would care to spend the night I can certainly introduce you tomorrow.”

He quirked an eyebrow at the alchemist, curious. “Why not today?”

“Today, unfortunately, I am monitoring an experiment that must be checked precisely every thirty minutes.” He glanced at his watch at the mention. “I have seven minutes before I must perform the necessary adjustments again, so I will need to be brief. I wouldn’t want to impose upon Dorian to monitor it as he is in the midst of his own studies, and he wouldn’t have the proper credentials to bring you straight to the Captain yet, so he would be unable to escort you himself.”

“Tch.” That would be just as much of a delay as he’d had in Liyue, possibly more. He tapped his fingers against his chin, frowning as he considered his options.

“I understand that is likely not ideal, considering we are speaking of missing people,” the other man said. “I could also write a letter of introduction for you that would authorize you to bypass the guards and speak directly to him, but you would still need to wait for me to draw it up between monitoring the experiment.”

Kazeharu hummed tunelessly under his breath, considering the idea. “That’d work. I can spend that time with Klee, since she was so insistent, and then I wouldn’t have to disappoint a little kid.” 

Albedo checked the watch again. “Four minutes. I should return to the laboratory. If you follow Klee’s path, there, you’ll find her in Dorian’s company. Please do take the opportunity to introduce yourself, as I have mentioned before that I believe the two of you might benefit from the experience.”

The puppet had been ambushed as soon as he entered the room, the kid flinging herself at him in sheer excitement and babbling about the interesting things she’d done recently (fish blasting sounded highly dangerous, from her description) and wanting to know how her big brother knew him (the Traveler - oh! Mister Honorary Knight! - had introduced them), and telling him about her big big brother’s latest painting (a vista from Mondstadt’s coast, apparently).

He’d let Klee try to wear the hat, when she’d asked, reassuring himself as he watched her giggle underneath it that he wasn’t feeling guilty about not letting Teucer even touch it. She’d put it on Dodoco too, the plush simply folding into itself and collapsing under the extra weight, much to her dismay. This had led to an impromptu medical session for her beloved toy, and now it sat by her side sporting tiny bandages as she sprawled on the floor, drawing on her own sheafs of paper with thick, colorful strokes while Dorian sat at his easel.

He had said nothing while this was occurring, merely observing them distantly and continuing to dab tiny blots of color onto the landscape he was creating out of nothing. Now that Klee had settled down, though, he spoke finally, not turning his head to look at the wanderer perched on a nearby chair watching him work.

“Albedo tells me that we have a lot in common,” he said quietly, the longer flaxen hair trailing past his shoulders a perfect match to his brother’s own shorter style. His face was even more expressionless than the alchemist’s, the identical teal eyes seated in a slightly more angular visage, as he studied the minute details of his brushwork intently.

“He said that to me too. I have my doubts,” the wanderer said, dryly, folding his arms. “I’ve dealt with too much bizarre shit to believe that anyone could really relate to it.”

“Oh, yes?” Dorian said, tracing his brush across the canvas in a graceful, sweeping arc. “What makes you so certain that your experiences are so unique?”

How to say it? He knew Albedo had vaguely discussed him with the man, after obtaining his permission to reveal his existence, but not what specifically he’d said. “My mother was a god with no understanding of family relationships,” he said, eventually. It was the most succinct and desensitized version of that deep-seated trauma he’d come up with, one that left the painful things unsaid but implied them.

Dorian tilted his head, though it wasn’t clear if it was at the statement or at the tiny flowers blooming under his fingers. “Rhinedottir may not have been a god,” he said, “but a near-immortal alchemist who also didn’t understand the concept of family is somewhat similar, is it not?”

“My mother,” the puppet said carefully, trying to explain what exactly the problem had been without succumbing to the searing anger he still felt about it in front of Klee, “viewed me as a failed prototype for her own body.”

“Albedo was right, then,” Dorian said, unflinching. “Our mother also deemed me a failed experiment. I had trouble understanding human behavior, which was not acceptable.”

Oh. Both ‘failed’ creations… yes, he could see why Albedo would think they might relate to each other. Perhaps Kazeharu ought to feel disturbed that he’d been so accurate, but after everything he’d done for him, the alchemist was one of the few he trusted even slightly. 

After a lengthy silence, he said quietly, in answer to the other’s reveal of his supposed flaw, “She saw me as weak, because I cried at my creation.” Simmering rage seeped from every syllable he spoke. “She put me to sleep and left me alone in a locked domain and never bothered to return. I wasn’t supposed to wake.”

Dorian nodded ever so slightly, leaning forward to focus on a different portion of the canvas. “Gold also decided to dispose of me, once she decided I was no longer needed,” he said, calmly, then continued, after a brief pause to reload his brush with more paint. “She fed me alive to her dragon, coincidentally also our elder brother.”

“You know,” the wanderer said grudgingly, after a very long pause to absorb the horror of that casual statement, “I think you might actually win that one.”

“It was not a competition,” the other man said, “but I acknowledge your effort to offer your sympathies.”

He chose not to address that assumption of sympathy, asking instead, “How did you survive?”

“Our brother’s bones lie on this mountain,” the man said, still tracing delicate lines of color onto the layers already there, “and his remaining lifeforce still resonates through the valley all these years later. It has a curious effect on creatures in the area, infusing them with an unnatural vitality. Enough of me remained when he died for that vitality to resurrect me as well.”

The wanderer gave in to his curiosity, asking the gruesome question that had been lingering in the back of his mind, after glancing at Klee to make sure she still wasn’t paying attention. “Were you… awake, after he ate you?”

Dorian shook his head, the tiniest of movements. “I had only a sense of the interminable passage of time, nothing more. There was no pain until my body began rebuilding itself, if that was your concern.”

“Mm.” The puppet offered a wordless noise, asking him to go on.

“It was an unpleasant, but not unexpected surprise to realize that she had replaced me with Albedo,” the man continued. “He even has more of a name than mine - Dorian just means ‘of Gold’, you see.”

“At least she gave you a name at all,” Kazeharu said, lips twisting in a bitter sneer. “Mine never did. She never named my replacement either, as far as I know.”

“Interesting,” Dorian said, actually turning his head to meet the puppet’s eyes briefly. “Did you name yourself, then?”

“I tried, before, and tried other’s names as well.” He shrugged, uncomfortably aware that his relationship with names was unusual at best, fraught with tension at worst. “I’ve used plenty, over the centuries, but none of them really felt like me, even the ones I found at least acceptable.” Each name he’d tried had inevitably been tarnished beyond repair. Each subsequently discarded and buried, leaving only a sick twinge of dissonance running through his spine when he was addressed by a name that didn’t belong. Even now, hearing one of those old names gave him the same sickening nausea to various degrees, though he’d at least stopped automatically responding to them. He was utterly grateful that the three who still knew those names were gracious enough not to torment him with them. It was only his nightmares that still dared (and even there Buer stepped in to halt them, more often than not).

“This latest name, though… it already has so much history and meaning attached to it, despite having had it for such a short time.” He still wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. “I have to wonder if this is the one that will finally stick. But then again, I’ve wondered that before too.” 

Dorian merely nodded at that, content to let the silence take over again.

The wanderer had thought Scaramouche would be the last name he ever took, once he’d earned it. Even in all his bitter, cynical triumph he’d still been so naive, believing that he was there of his own volition, that the name would hold no other meaning than the atrocities he committed with it and the fear he evoked. That it wouldn’t come to represent its own sordid betrayal. That the strings attached were all ones the puppet knew and could tolerate.

Little did he know that the mighty Balladeer had been dancing not to his own bloody tune, but to the Doctor’s.

Albedo’s entrance to the room interrupted his steadily darkening thoughts, and he stood, anticipating his release from the wait at last. Indeed, the alchemist was carrying a thin envelope, sealed and elegantly addressed to one Cavalry Captain Kaeya Alberich.

“I sent a pigeon alerting him to your imminent arrival,” he said, offering the letter to the wanderer. “He should be in his office when you arrive, or at the very least on his way.”

He hesitated, then managed a brusque “Thanks,” for the unexpected extra thoughtfulness before accepting the letter. (But now he was wondering why they hadn’t sent a bird to Liyue ahead of his arrival. They used messenger birds in Sumeru; he’d seen them. That would certainly have saved him some time. He’d have to ask Buer what the hell she’d been thinking not to.) Before he could say anything else, though, a pair of tiny arms had wrapped around one leg from behind and he looked down to find a very disappointed Klee face staring back up at him, eyes wide and mouth beginning to pout.

“You’re not leaving already, are you, Mister Wanderer?”

“I’ve got work,” Kazeharu said, seeing her ears droop and the pout deepen as he did. “I, uh…” shit. There was no Aether here to save him from those suspiciously wet eyes this time. “I’ll come back and visit again some time?” That seemed to be good enough, as she brightened and said, “You promise?”

He didn’t like making promises. 

“Yes,” he said anyway, giving her a tentative pat on the head, then another.

“Don’t let her take advantage of you with her pouting,” Dorian said from his easel. “She’ll never forget that it works on you.”

“Well, it’s a little late to warn me about that now, isn’t it?” The sarcasm practically dripped from his words. He didn’t stop petting her head anyway, and Klee giggled, knowing she’d won. 

“Oh, oh, Mister Wanderer, wait right there!” she said, sprinting back to her little pile of colorful doodles. Shyly, she presented him with one of them, saying, “Me and Dodoco drew this one for you, so you won’t forget our adventures!” It was quite apparent which one was supposed to be him, the blue arc above his head almost wider than the messy figure was tall. Presumably the red one with the smaller hat was Klee herself, and the round blob beside her was her imagined companion.

His traitorous mind wondered if his son would have drawn him such pictures, had he lived. In the dirt by their small house? On the walls, with charcoal from the fire? Eyes burning suspiciously, he blinked back what were definitely not tears, and thanked the girl gruffly, before letting Albedo escort him back to the door where his sandals were waiting for him. 

Hopefully the flight to the city would clear his head.

Chapter Text

He wishes he’d asked his father about it when he’d had the chance, about the different kinds of warmth he felt for the different people in his life, why Katsu was different from Niwa who were both different from Nagamasa. (No he doesn’t. That is a lie. He really doesn’t want to know, and if it is what he suspects it is - he shuts that line of thought down. He isn’t thinking about it.) 

He is thinking about it, though. About the way the traveler’s smile makes him forget to breathe sometimes.

Kaeya Alberich was far too interested in Kazeharu for his own good, flirting non-stop while trying to weasel extra tidbits of information out of him, then trying to ply him with alcohol when the flirting failed. It immediately became very clear how the man got his first-hand information most of the time. His lips curled in distaste at the very thought. At least the puppet was able to accept the alcohol without worrying about it affecting him (or being poisoned, though he doubted that would happen this soon into an interaction). That made the other man lower his guard a little, which in turn made working out the details of how they were going to communicate in the future so that he never had to pretend to stand the irritating man’s presence ever again just a little more bearable.

Mondstadt didn’t have anything notable about delta for him, but they’d look, Alberich told him. They did have a number of suspicious missing persons cases that had yet to be resolved - unfortunately the nation of freedom didn’t exactly keep good track of its citizens, which made things slightly more difficult (and had always been appreciated by the Fatui while he was in their ranks). It was far more frustrating being on the other side of that divide, he found.

Perched high on Mondstadt’s walls after that aggravating meeting, he took a deep breath of the winter air and watched the sun sliding towards the horizon, color beginning to bleed into the sky. The chill was soothing, filling his artificial throat and lungs with a comforting tingle, as he went through his mental list of things he needed to accomplish on this trip again. He’d finished everything, he decided. He carefully checked the tightly rolled paper in his sleeve, making sure it was still there, still intact. He had no idea what he was going to do with the thing but he was obviously keeping it. Maybe Aether would know what to do with it?

At least he was able to call his job done, now. Both nations had been warned and lines of communication set up, and that should suffice for the future. He’d be able to go back to lurking in the shadows the way he preferred, and Buer should be satisfied too.

Time to head back, then.

The comfortable warmth of the teapot’s simulated sunset air was a stark contrast to the winter chill outside. He’d asked, once, why Aether didn’t have seasons in his domain, after his first few weeks there, and the man had simply answered that he preferred experiencing actual weather that he had no control over, rather than coldly calculated and scheduled shifts in temperature that he had to plan ahead of time. He’d much rather treat his domain as a huge greenhouse, instead. (And with the amount of rare and unusual plants the man had collected it wasn’t difficult to understand that point of view.)

He couldn’t see the teapot spirit out in those gardens, which likely meant someone was inside. Aether, he hoped, as he climbed the shallow steps to the front portico. But if not, he’d simply withdraw to his room (his room, he still couldn’t believe the man was just letting him stay).

“Welcome home, Master Niwa,” said the portly teapot spirit as he opened the door, turning to face him. He appeared to have interrupted its conversation with a white haired Inazuman samurai, whose curious glance turned to real interest at the name.

“Niwa,” he said, thoughtfully. “I wasn’t aware that there were any of that clan still around after merging with ours.” He turned with a gentle smile, red eyes bright with interest, and now the wanderer could see that so-familiar matching red streak on the other side of his head. It was a sudden punch to his gut, and he only barely registered the name as the other man stepped forward and bowed courteously, elegant dark fabrics rustling with the movement.

“Kaedehara Kazuha, at your service,” the man said, still smiling.

This was it, then. His time was up. He at least managed to return the courtesy after he recovered from the shock, stating simply, “Niwa Kazeharu.” He straightened, and looked his death in the eyes. He was too proud to do anything less.  

“You are the one who blocked the Musou no Hitotachi,” he said, with absolute certainty, removing his hat. “The last heir of the Isshin art.” Was this strangely calm feeling… relief? At last, it would all be over.

“It would be an honor,” he said, kneeling and spreading his arms wide to make the blow easier, “to be executed by you.”

The silence was deafening.  

He waited, arms outstretched and head bowed. And then:

“…what?”

The voice was utterly baffled. Kazeharu looked up to see that the smile on the other’s face had faltered, confusion written plain across his features.

“Is that… not why you’re here? I told the Traveler to tell you everything.” Had that damn blonde managed to mess even this up?

Kaedehara raised his hands defensively, an awkward smile pasted on his face. “I …I haven’t seen Iviathe since he left for Sumeru. I was just delivering a report and hoped to see him-”

Behind them, the teapot spirit’s beak opened and shut in outraged disbelief, but nothing came out until it finally screeched, appalled, “There will be absolutely no executions in this house!”

Kazeharu grimaced, rolling his eyes. “We can go out in the garden if you really insist.”

“OR in the garden! No executions in the teapot!”

Kaedehara’s gaze didn’t shift from the wanderer kneeling on the floor as he held out a calming hand to the spirit, seeming to have recovered his composure at last. “I am not one to lightly deal death, even to a foe intent on mine. You seek my blade, yet offer no threat, nor reason. The mere fact that you are permitted in the Traveler’s realm, let alone allowed to call it home, speaks for his trust of you - and I trust his judgment.” Those kindly red eyes stared straight into Kazeharu’s own as the samurai spoke. In a softer voice, a sympathetic smile forming at the corners of his mouth again, he continued:

“Why do you ask such a thing of me?”

Kazeharu grimaced at that stupid smile. If he needed a reason, then he’d give him one. He didn’t mince his words. “I was the one responsible for the destruction of the Raiden Gokaden, and the fall of your clan.”

The smile didn’t falter. “The bladesmith responsible was killed long ago by my ancestors. The wind tells me that you are not human, yes - it carries the scent of wood and clay and pigment, and whispers of the silent absence of your breath. That alone tells me you very well could be old enough to have been there. But that is no reason for me to believe your claim when it runs contrary to our well-known history.”

“The history you know is wrong,” Kazeharu hissed, climbing to his feet. Shoulders hunched, he glared at this stupid, stubborn samurai who refused to just kill him outright. “I was the one that orchestrated every event. I was the one that caused the deaths of all those bladesmiths and the loss of their techniques. I was the one that altered the diagram for the goshintou blade to make it impossible to forge.”

“Ah,” breathed Kaedehara at last, understanding dawning in his eyes. Finally. “The sabotaged diagram was indeed something of a puzzle when we learned of it. The fact that you even know about it in the first place does speak to your honesty.” A hand rose to his chin as he considered this revelation. “Very well, supposing what you say is true… can you tell me why you did these things?”

“W-what-” Kazeharu spluttered, caught off guard. “What does it matter why I did them? I’m guilty, just get it over with already.”

“Hmm,” the samurai said, closing his eyes as he thought. “No, I don’t think I will.” He opened them again, the corners crinkling in another gentle smile. “For one thing, I have only your word that you were involved, and for another, you are clearly aware of and acknowledge having done wrong by seeking such a punishment. That you feel remorse for these actions tells me that there is surely another form of restitution that could be chosen instead of your life.”

“You-!” He had barely opened his mouth before the man interrupted him.

“And,” Kaedehara continued without pausing, “I would like to hear the Traveler’s input on this matter. If you will not tell me the reasons for your actions, perhaps he will.”

“I told you, it doesn’t matter-” he started, gritting his teeth, only to be interrupted again.

“If it really didn’t matter, then surely you wouldn’t be so dead-set against telling me, yes?” The puppet’s mouth snapped shut, unable to come up with a counter for that line of reasoning. Instead, he satisfied himself with giving the other man the most venomous glare he could muster.

“In the meantime,” Kaedehara suggested, completely unfazed by the frustration and anger being directed his way, “I had planned to enjoy a soothing cup of tea before Iviathe returned. Perhaps you would like to join me, while we wait for him?”

The best Kazeharu could manage was a weak mutter of: “The fuck is wrong with you?” He did kind of want tea now. Dammit.

Aether knew something was up the moment he opened his front door. The hair on the back of his neck stood straight up at the simmering tension fairly oozing out of the entrance hall.  “Ohhh,” Paimon muttered behind him, sensing it too, “Paimon doesn’t like this…”

His eyes went straight to the two figures drinking tea at the little table and couches in the center of the room. Oh. The samurai appeared perfectly calm and relaxed, delicately sipping his tea as if there was nothing wrong. The puppet, on the other hand, appeared to be trying to bore holes in the samurai over the rim of his teacup with his glare. His ornate hat was leaning up against the pillows on the couch next to him, looking for all the world as though it were a guest in its own right. Poor Tubby, meanwhile, was in the kitchen in the back making himself scarce, clearly incredibly uncomfortable.  

Well. So much for a relaxing dinner after a long day of commissions. Paimon, spotting the trouble over his shoulder, laughed nervously and quickly excused herself to go hide behind Tubby - and pester him for food while she was at it.

“Kazuha,” he said, “and Kazeharu…” He shut the door behind him with a small click. Both of them were looking at Aether now, as he slowly crossed the room to stand in front of them. There was a seat next to Kazuha, but he didn’t want them feeling like he was taking sides, so he simply stood next to the table in between them. “Is this about what I think it is?”

“Damn straight it is,” grumbled the wanderer, now directing his glare at Aether instead. “Not only did you not tell him anything, he refuses to accept that I’m a horrible person that murdered hundreds of people and toppled his clan.”

“I never said that,” Kazuha said, smiling gently. “I merely said that I was uncertain that your execution would be the correct solution.” Addressing Aether, he said, “Is his story true, then?”

“Yes.” Aether rubbed his eyes tiredly. “I can offer proof, if you want it.” This was going to be fun. “Did he tell you that he’s already committed suicide once over all of this?”

“Oh?” the samurai said, eyeing the wanderer across the rim of his own teacup, not questioning the implication that he’d succeeded. “No, he didn’t mention that. He also refused to tell me the reasons for his crimes, insisting that I should just condemn him immediately.”

Aether sighed. “Kazeharu…”  The tiredness he felt bled into his voice, and it came out rough and pleading.  “Please just… please stop trying to kill yourself, Haru. I could forgive the ruin drake, as it was spur of the moment, but this…” He closed his eyes, remembering. “Watching you disappear once was…” He didn’t finish the thought.  

The puppet managed to look both guilty and defiant at the same time. “I don’t know why you bother to care so much,” he muttered.

“You know perfectly well why,” Aether shot back, lips thinning into a frown. 

“So, let me get this straight,” he said with a huff. “Kazuha doesn’t know anything except the bare bones details,” he pointed, “and Kazeharu is refusing to tell you any more because he doesn’t want you feeling sympathy for him.” He pointed his other finger at the wanderer. “That about right?”

The samurai nodded calmly at the same moment the puppet snarled angrily. 

“Yes-”

“-No!”

Aether sighed again. “Let me see if I can summarize this in a way that makes sense.” He tapped his fingers against his lips as he spoke, slowly trying to fit the pieces together for Kazuha.  

“Essentially, his mother abandoned him, his father - Niwa Hisahide - adopted him about four hundred some years ago, and then the forge at Tatarasuna was sabotaged by the Fatui. While he was attempting to beg for help from the Shogunate, his father was murdered and his heart cut from his chest while it was still warm and then gifted to Haru on his return under false pretenses, just to make him believe that his father had abandoned him exactly like his mother, and worse, sacrificed him to save his own life. His father died, his father’s nearby family was ‘disappeared’ to cover it up, his oldest friend was executed by the shogunate, and the entire island rendered nigh on uninhabitable before the masterminds were done. Guuji Yae did send help after the Shogun refused to see him, but it arrived far too late. 

“Hundreds of years of manipulation and torture by the Fatui later, he decided to take revenge on the Raiden Gokaden for all of it, still believing they were at fault for the death of his friend and the supposed abandonment by his father. He spared your ancestor, then, because he couldn’t bring himself to kill a descendant of his father even after everything. Then, a few months ago, after we broke his ridiculous mechanical god suit and he fell from divinity, the Fatui finally abandoned him. Shortly after that, Lesser Lord Kusanali discovered and revealed the truth of his father’s murder by the second Harbinger, showing him the actual memory in question - and the first thing he did was try to kill himself, by way of deletion from Irminsul, hoping it would also erase his crimes.

“That didn’t work, obviously, but it changed every memory and recording of history, and he’s made at least one other suicide attempt since then that I’m aware of, not including whatever this was,” Aether said, spreading his hands to encompass the couches and the figures sitting on them. Haru’s shoulders hunched up in obvious discomfort, but he didn’t comment, glaring into his tea as if it would have some defense for him.

“I see,” murmured Kazuha, also gazing into his tea in search of enlightenment. “A very long story, to be just a summary. The full tale must be days in the telling.” 

“It doesn’t excuse his crimes, but I do understand the pain he felt, and how hard it would have been to see through the web woven around him,” Aether said, folding his arms in a gesture very much like the grumpy puppet seated in front of him. “And I have nothing but respect for his decision to take responsibility for the actions he committed in his past life, even though he could have let them disappear instead. He doesn’t like to admit it, but he takes it all very seriously.”

The samurai sat for a moment, processing the information, gently swirling the liquid in his cup as he thought. “Iviathe, do you remember what I said about the Kagotsurube Isshin?”

“Of course,” Aether said, knowing exactly what he was referring to. It was the very reason he had intended to tell Kazuha about the situation first, of the clans. “‘I’d rather see him recognize and atone for his mistakes than see him punished for them.’”

The samurai nodded, looking back to Kazeharu, his gaze thoughtful. He set the teacup down with a click. “The past is past, and the dead are dead. There is no wish powerful enough to change that, and you know that from firsthand experience. But you are alive, now, and you can still change what you do in the future. Is atoning for your crimes really so impossible?”

“Of course it is,” the puppet spat, bristling at what he clearly thought was pity. “I destroyed everything they had, and murdered hundreds. There is nothing I could do to balance the scales of my atrocities, and it will haunt me for the rest of my life.”

“I do not doubt that it will haunt you… but for the other, I can think of a way,” Kazuha said softly, smiling his gentlest smile, eyes not leaving the other man. “As the son of Niwa Hisahide, a renowned bladesmith of the Isshin art, surely he passed on his knowledge and skills to you. Without that, you could never have modified the blade’s diagram in such an undetectable way as to render it useless. That means,” he said, smile fading and leaning forward so intently that the wanderer actually started back in his seat, “that there are two masters of the Isshin art of swordsmithing alive today, not just one. And one of them was trained by a master during the height of the art’s success.”

“And so I propose this:”

“For every broken blade,” Kazuha said, eyes pleading with the dark-haired man, “forge its brother.” The puppet’s mouth opened in surprise, unable to look away from that desperate, passionate gaze.

“For every swordsmith slain, train another. For every day cut short, offer your own in its stead.”

The two men stared at each other for a long moment, before Kazuha continued. “Revive the Isshin art with me, cousin.” His eyes glittered fiercely in the light of the hall as he made his case. “You cannot bring back those that died or the other arts that were lost, but this, this, is something you can do. Something real, something lasting, something that can honor both our fathers.”

Aether could see the thoughts flickering across Haru’s face as he processed this offer, his mouth working as he tried to come up with a response. This was not some nebulous ‘be better in the future,’ but a tangible, measurable thing that he could work towards, directly related to the grievous sins he had committed in error. True, those were not the only crimes he had to atone for, but Aether knew they were the ones that weighed on him the heaviest.

“I’ll do it.” The wanderer set his cup down with so much force that the table rattled, surging to his feet to match Kazuha’s passionate stare with his own determined gaze. “I’ll do it.”

The smile that spread across the samurai’s face was nothing short of radiant. “We’ll do it.” He stood himself and held out his hand to the other man, who hesitated briefly, before reaching out and clasping it to seal the deal.

“I’ll have to inform the Amenoma and Kamisato clan heads, of course,” Kazuha said, “and they may have additional requests to add, but I don’t think they’ll object to the idea once I’ve explained everything. We can draw up the official documentation later.”

“Documentation?” The wanderer hissed, flinching back, indigo eyes wide in dismay.

“Yes,” Kazuha affirmed, amusement dancing across his face before he restrained himself. “As it was a serious offense committed in Inazuma, it of course must be handled by Inazuman authorities. To have legal standing, punishment and reparations will certainly need to be documented and approved by the shogunate, if not the shogun herself.”

Haru was silent, but he hadn’t taken his hand back yet, just stared - first at Kazuha, then at Aether, as if begging for a way out. The traveler simply raised an eyebrow and shrugged at him, trying to suppress his own rising amusement at the sight. “Fffffffffine…” the man finally said, though Aether suspected that that was not what he had started to say. “I did say I would take whatever I am due, and I stand by that.” He finally dropped the other’s hand, folding his arms defensively and looking away. “It’s not like she’d care, anyway.” That last was muttered bitterly, softly enough that it was probably not meant to be heard.

The samurai was kind enough to pretend he hadn’t heard it, though Aether saw his eyebrows rise slightly before his expression smoothed back into his usual gentle smile. “I can understand your reservations,” he said, calmly. “The shogunate has not been kind to either of us, it seems. But a genuine gesture of good faith like going through official channels should make it all the more clear that you really are trying to make amends.”

Kazeharu nodded stiffly, still not looking at either of them. Reluctantly, he dropped one hand to the golden feather clasped below his vision, fingers fluttering uncertainly before unhooking it. “If she asks,” he started, then swallowed nervously, before starting over. “She won’t know me by this name. If she asks, give her the feather.” He handed it over slowly, carefully placing it in the other’s palm and coiling the tie into a loop.

“She?” 

The wanderer didn’t answer, looking anywhere but the two other men, a muscle near his eye twitching despite his apparent composure.

“The Shogun,” supplied Aether, when it became clear there would be no answer.

The o that formed on the samurai’s lips was quickly suppressed. “Perhaps it will not come to that,” Kazuha said, folding his fingers gently around the delicate ornament. He might not know exactly what the feather meant, but anyone could see it was important to the wanderer.

“Well,” Aether said, after it became clear that neither of the other two had anything more to say, “if that’s settled - what brought you here, Kaz?”

“Ah. Thank you for reminding me,” the man said, reaching into his sleeve to pull out a thick envelope sealed with the stamp of the Tenryou Commission. “Heizou put together this report based on your request, and assures me that he’s looking into it in further depth as we speak.”

“Of course, that makes sense,” Aether said, accepting the envelope and glancing at it curiously, before turning and offering it straight to the wanderer. “Fontaine still hasn’t allowed me to speak with their officials - I suspect they’re afraid I’m going to be the catalyst for another cataclysmic occurrence and are trying to avoid it (can’t exactly blame them, really) - but this should be the immediate information Inazuma has on that Fatui project you’re investigating.”

Haru snatched it out of his hands at those words, opening it with a precise slash of anemo to the sealed flap and hastily scanning the contents. “Inazuma also confirms that project delta is at least several years old,” he muttered, pacing across the floor. “They have direct correspondence from the Fatui to the Tenryou Commission that mentions it from the previous Commissioner’s collusion with them and they’re currently conducting a deeper search based on those letters… one letter mentions the Fatui being willing to make “necessary sacrifices” for the success of the overall plan?”

He tapped his fingers against his arm rapidly, thinking. “Signora? No.” He shook his head, turning to the traveler. “She was never supposed to fight you. That was completely unplanned. They wouldn’t consider lost ground troops to be important enough to call sacrifices, either… and in this version of history, I was never there.”

Aether could only shrug. Kazuha, listening, murmured quietly, “Should I be hearing any of this?”

“If Heizou had you delivering the report,” the traveler said, quirking an eyebrow at the samurai, “I expect he wanted to involve you in the investigation, even if unofficially.”

“I have no objection to that,” Kazuha said with a smile. “It will give me another excuse to spend time with my fascinating new cousin and grow to know him better.”

“As if getting to know me is something you wouldn’t regret,” said the puppet sharply. Despite those words, Aether could see the man’s shoulders relax and his back straighten ever so slightly, and knew that Kazuha’s graceful, unassuming acceptance was something he was inwardly grateful for. 

Kazuha merely laughed softly, and said, “But how else will I hear the full tale if not from you?”

The traveler could only hope that the samurai’s quiet acceptance and the proposed atonement would be as good for the penitent former harbinger as he thought, with all his efforts to put himself back together. He could use a little redemption, after all.

Maybe they all could.

Chapter Text

It’s a good thing he doesn’t need to breathe because sometimes he also forgets to start again. The silence without that background noise makes it easier to hear Aether’s own breathing, the small pensive noises he makes when he’s thinking intently about something, the flash of chimes when he summons a memory in his hand to review or to share. If he listens closely enough, he can hear the other’s heart beating inside his chest, pumping inhuman blood through inhuman organs and fingers and toes. 

Sometimes he wonders what it would feel like, to press his hand against that beating chest and feel the pulse there too. Would it quicken at his touch? Secretly, he hopes so.

The wanderer had been shut in his room since Kazuha had left, yesterday. Aether normally wouldn’t bother him, but he’d been enjoying their morning sparring matches and was hoping that he’d join him for another. And that was how he found himself outside the man’s room this morning, debating whether or not to knock. He hadn’t exactly apologized for accusing him of trying to kill himself again during that unexpected encounter, yesterday, and he still felt slightly guilty about it. For all he knew the man was avoiding him.

He knocked anyway.

“What,” was the immediate, impatient response. Pushing the door open, he was met with the sight of Haru standing at his desk, one pencil tucked behind an ear and a second tapping against his fingers, surrounded by piles of schematics and diagrams. His face was pulled into a serious expression of intense concentration, brows furrowed and eyes scanning the table.

“Traveler,” he said, looking up at his entrance. “Good, I was just thinking about you. Do you know any blacksmiths that would let me borrow their forge?”

“What’s all this?” Aether said curiously, stepping over and picking up one of the diagrams. A blade, split into identifiable pieces, with measurements, ingot composition, and forge temperatures listed for each part. The writing was all in elegant Inazuman script, and while his grasp of the written language was poor, he could still make out most of what was listed. The rest of the papers he could see were similar, and the look on Haru’s face as the traveler examined them seemed… almost apprehensive?

“Did you do all this from memory?” he asked, picking up another schematic and comparing it to the first. He knew the man wasn’t like him, with perfect recall, so this was clearly the result of an insane amount of work. He looked up and gave him a brilliant smile, impressed. “That’s incredible, Haru.”

The faintest hint of pink crept up the wanderer’s pale face. “Yes, well,” he said, avoiding Aether’s eyes and running his hands through his fine hair so it stuck up chaotically, grimacing in frustration, “I’m not entirely sure I’ve remembered everything correctly, which is why I was asking if you know any blacksmiths that would let me borrow their forge to test some of these out-”

He had to laugh. “Hell, Haru, if you want a forge I can just build you one.”

That caught the puppet by surprise, and he blinked, startled, as he absorbed that statement. “What?”

“I’ve got enough materials stocked up in the basement to build ten or twenty of them,” Aether said, because it was true. “One would be no trouble at all.”

“That - no, you don’t need to - you don’t even have anywhere to put it,” the man said, his hair falling smoothly back into place as he shook his head. “I just need somewhere to practice a little.”

“There’s space right behind the house,” the blonde pointed out. “And that way you can set it up exactly the way you want it, and practice as long as you want, without worrying about inconveniencing the owner when they need to work.”

“Dammit, Aether-”

“‘Dammit, Aether’ what?”

“There’s no reason,” he said, tossing his pencil onto the desk and throwing up his hands in frustration, “for you to go to all this trouble for a former criminal.”

“There’s no reason not to, either, is there?” Aether kept his tone light, lilting; flashed a bright smile at the other man.

The puppet opened his mouth, clearly prepared to deliver a biting comeback, then shut it again with a grimace, folding his arms in a huff. 

“Besides,” the blonde said, “Kazuha doesn’t have an estate or the funds to get one, anymore, and despite the fact that Tatarasuna is starting to recover, I still doubt it’s the best place for mortal people to be spending a lot of time right now.”

“He said he’s still planning on tracing the path of the smiths that fled to see if he can find anything else they left,” Haru said, gesturing curtly in what would be a northward direction were they not in a domain. “That means Snezhnaya, you know - we won’t be needing a real forge for a while yet. And I know you’re not going to want us bringing random mortals in here to teach how to pound iron when we get that far.”

“It would be difficult to get random people in here anyway, so yes, you’ll need another location to teach from,” the traveler agreed with another smile. “But it wouldn’t hurt to have a small forge here to work from when you want, would it?”

The other man tipped his head back and let out an exasperated sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Why are you like this?”

Aether offered him his best wide-eyed, innocent expression. “Like what?”

“So goddamn nice, is what,” was the disgruntled reply.

“Who says I’m being nice?” he said, pretending to pout. “Maybe it’s just a good excuse for me to put in a forge for myself so I can repair my own weapons.”

It was incredibly clear that Haru didn’t believe that for a second, tilting his head even further back so unamused blue eyes could glare disdainfully down his nose at the traveler.

“Is it now.”

“No,” the blonde said, suppressing a laugh.

“Unbelievable,” the man muttered, rolling his eyes. “You must be keeping me around just to annoy me.”

“Is it really so hard to believe that I might just appreciate the company of another immortal?” he said, casually leaning on the desk with one hand. “I’m not used to being alone, you know, and as much as I love Paimon she’s not exactly a sophisticated conversationalist.”

“When the immortal in question is me?” the puppet said, tapping his chest emphatically. “Absolutely. I don’t do nice, or friendly, or small talk, and as for sophisticated - hah! I am not the sort of person you keep around for a nice friendly chat over tea and cupcakes!”

“Huh. You know,” Aether said thoughtfully, attention momentarily diverted, “I bet I could bake a cupcake you’d like, if I tried hard enough.”

“That is not the point of this conversation and you know it,” Haru snapped.

“Are you sure?” the blonde said, teasing.

“Am I - are you trying to piss me off?”

“Well, I was hoping you’d join me for another sparring match this morning.” He grinned and fluttered his eyelashes tauntingly at Haru, leaning further over the desk. “Is it working?”

The puppet narrowed his eyes dangerously, pulling the other pencil from behind his ear and pointing it at Aether like a weapon. “I,” he said, stepping out from behind his desk, “am going to kick your ass today, and you are going to regret opening your mouth when I’m done, little star.”

“I look forward to it,” the traveler said, grin widening. “But if I win I’m building you a forge.”

And that was how Kazeharu found himself muttering angrily under his breath inside a newly built workshop, complete with forge and bellows and six different kinds of hammers, along with tongs and shears and all the other tools he needed. Two separate grades of diamond grinders stood by the tubs of different quenching oils and water, next to shelves of molds for liquid pours. There was even a rack to hold the schematics when he wasn’t using them, and an angled drafting table for quick corrections. 

At least the process of setting it up had been interesting, watching Aether channel his energy through the teapot spirit to transform blank stone and wood into finished roofing and chimneys, nuggets of iron and starsilver into the pair of hefty anvils that held pride of place in the center of the workspace. It wasn’t exactly a fast procedure, but compared to building such a thing outside a domain, it was miraculously quick, finished before the domain’s reflected sun even hit midafternoon. It made a lot more sense to him, now, that the traveler had found it no big deal to remodel his house to add extra bathrooms, if it had gone anything like this. Admittedly, he only ever used his sink to fill his teapot, but he’d reluctantly acknowledged after a few days that it was rather convenient to have that water source right there.

The traveler hadn’t questioned any of the requests he’d made once the puppet had given up on dissuading him, accepting without comment his desire for a specific set of measurements for the forge itself and each new tool he’d described. In that regard, at least, he could admit the man had been right - he would not have to borrow hammers weighted for hands that were not his, or adjust his chisels to strike blows against a surface meant for taller men. It was easier to produce quality products when not fighting with the very tools you were crafting with.

Still, it rankled that he owed it all to the traveler. He hadn’t pointed out that he didn’t have any materials to work with, because he knew the moment he said something the infuriating imbecile would take the opportunity to tip the scales of his debt even further in the man’s favor. At this rate, he’d never manage to balance them (not that he’d been anywhere close in the first place, but it felt like it was only getting further and further from happening). Perhaps he could get back at the man by forging him a new sword or two - the one he was using was a disaster that belonged in a scrap pile, not in the hand of a heavenly sojourner, even a torn and grounded one.

Footsteps approaching caught his attention, heavier than Aether’s usual light tread. Suspicion rose in his mind, and he turned to look - only to find said suspicion confirmed. The traveler was not carrying the promised schematics, but instead hauling a large bag of ore. Damn the man, he thought, already resigning himself to the increased debt. At least it seemed Paimon was making herself useful, carrying armfuls of his rolled up schematics in the traveler’s place.

“Brought you some ore to work with,” Aether said with a bright smile. “Iron, White Iron, Starsilver… the whole array, some of everything I had on hand.”

“I’m not blind,” Kazeharu said sourly, reaching for the overflowing schematics in Paimon’s arms before she could drop any. He wasn’t going to dignify the gifted ore with any further response, merely piling the schematics on the drafting table and unrolling them one by one to slot into the storage rack. The last roll she held back, refusing to hand it over.

“Look what else Paimon found on your desk!” she said gleefully instead, unrolling Klee’s drawing to display it. His eyes widened in horror. One, that was his, and two, his carefully crafted uncaring and disdainful demeanor did not need any more dents in it.

“That’s mine,” he hissed, snatching it out of her hands and examining it to make sure it wasn’t damaged. No rips or tears, it wasn’t smudged or smeared either. If he’d been breathing, he’d have let out a sigh of relief. He briefly considered purposefully taking a breath just for that, before a different voice interrupted him.

“Aww,” Aether said, leaning over his shoulder to look. “Is that from Klee? Little baby Haru is making new friends! How adorable,” the man cooed in his ear.

The wanderer turned, slowly, lowering the drawing to the table and glaring straight into the traveler’s too-close, too-pretty amber eyes. “I will murder you if you call me any of that ever again.”

“Awwwww, is someone gwumpy today?” Aether said, leaning even further in. “How cute.” Their noses were nearly touching now, and Kazeharu was done. With everything. One hand shot up to knot itself into a fist in the traveler’s scarf just as the other grabbed his belt, and he spun, using the momentum to heave the man over his shoulder and fling him bodily into the ground outside the workshop, knocking the breath out of him with a wheeze. Paimon gasped in horror off to the side, flinching back and hiding her face behind her hands. A second, more painful wheeze escaped the traveler as the puppet stepped on the man’s chest with far more force than necessary. 

“I warned you,” he growled, leaning forward over his face to lock eyes with him and emphasize his displeasure. “I,” he said, biting the words off sharply, “am not adorable. Or cute.”

And Aether laughed. Threw his head back against the ground uncaring of the dirt getting in his hair and laughed, as though he didn’t have a foot pinning him down and a dangerous, pissed off ex-harbinger glaring down at him. The man hadn’t even tried to dodge, and now he was laughing?

“Stop laughing, dumbass,” Kazeharu said, feeling slightly indignant over this completely unexpected reaction to his threats. The traveler brought up a hand and started patting the foot planted on his chest reassuringly, gasping out “Sorry, sorry,” in between more fits of laughter, followed by “don’t worry, you’re extremely scary, Haru.” There was a tiny snort off to the side, and now even Paimon was struggling to hold back giggles.

“The hell is wrong with you two,” he demanded, flushing in furious embarrassment. He had never, in any of his lifetimes, had anyone react like this to his anger, much less violence.

“Just - it was just how you were being so careful not to hit any of the things in your new workshop,” Aether said, still fighting his laughter. “You even threw me at such an awkward angle so I would land outside and not against the back of the forge-”

“What, did you want me to break something?” the puppet asked incredulously, folding his arms in his usual manner. “I was making a point, not throwing a tantrum.”

“I know,” the traveler said, patting his foot again, smiling up at him with genuine delight, blonde hair splayed out in the dirt around him. “I’m glad you like it so much.”

That-! That was absolutely not what he’d been intending to convey, and he scowled down again at the infuriating man below him before grudgingly removing his foot and stepping back. He looked away, examining the rack of schematics as though they were suddenly extremely compelling, and attempted to change the subject. “Don’t pet my feet, idiot. That’s weird.” Paimon burst into another fit of giggles at that, and he shot her a pointed glower of her own, before looking away again.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Aether sitting up, brushing the dirt from his hair, still smiling that stupid smile. “Well,” he said, “That was the only part of you I could reach, you know.”

“Ugh,” Kazeharu said, unfolding one arm and holding his hand out to help the traveler up, still not looking at him. “Here, then. As for you,” he said, turning his glare back to Paimon, “Don’t touch my stuff.”

“Paimon thought it was another diagram!” she chirped, hands behind her back and head tilted innocently to the side. He’d seen that move before; he wasn’t fooled. The paper wasn’t the same size or the same kind, and clearly didn’t belong with the rest. She’d known exactly what she was doing. “If Paimon promises to put it back all nice and pretty, will you make her a sword?”

What.

What.

“A sword?” he said, grimacing at the terrifying thought of this tiny floating nuisance flying around with a sharp pointed object. Amusement shot through the hand he was holding, but he wasn’t going to acknowledge that when he was still mad at the man. “You’re a horrible menace already. Why the hell would I make you a weapon?”

“Paimon thought you wanted to practice making weapons, why not one for Paimon?” she said cheerfully, bobbing in the air.

“Absolutely not.” He wasn’t that suicidal. And he certainly wasn’t going to give Aether’s precious (read: demonic) little daughter something she could hurt herself with. 

“What if Paimon says please?” she said, pleading starry eyes growing huge over a tiny pout.

“No.”

The little terror made a horrible face at him, having apparently given up on persuasion. That was fine by him, he’d just stick his tongue right back out at her. (And he did.) Beside him, the traveler had so far managed to keep a straight face, but a snort escaped at the increasingly silly standoff as they made a series of increasingly bizarre faces to outdo the other. 

“Alright, alright, that’s enough you two,” the man said with a low chuckle, tugging gently at Kazeharu’s hand and waving his free hand at Paimon to catch their attention. “Haru does have things to do out here, so we should stop distracting him now that he has everything.” Carefully, he picked the drawing up from the table and held it back out to the little sprite, telling her in a firm tone that was clearly an order, not a suggestion, “How about you go put the drawing back where you found it, Paimon?”

“And don’t touch anything else,” the puppet snapped at her back as she darted off with it in a huff.

His attention returned to the traveler as his held hand was gently clasped between both of the other man’s. “I apologize,” the traveler said, gazing at him with a rueful smile and patting the hand he was holding captive. “I didn’t know she’d picked that up, or I’d have made her put it back. I do think it’s sweet of Klee to have drawn you something, though.”

“I don’t know what I’m doing with the damn thing anyway,” the puppet muttered, “It’s not like I have anywhere to put it.”

“I could give you one of those bulletin boards from my office if you wanted somewhere to pin it up. You keep stealing them for your analyses anyway, you might as well keep one.”

Another tiny debt to add to the growing mountain. “Whatever,” he said, flexing his fingers in the other’s grasp, resisting the growing temptation to reach out and softly touch the other man’s frustratingly perplexing consciousness the same way his hand was being cradled. “I guess that would work.”

He added after a moment, regretting the impending loss of contact, “I do need to get started checking my calculations, though. Ingot composition without the use of crystal marrow is different from the techniques developed later, and I’m sure as hell not letting any of that happen again.”

Aether nodded, his face serious. “I understand how important it is to make certain the manipulative techniques introduced by Dottore are properly removed and discarded, without affecting the quality of the blades.” He finally let go of Kazeharu’s hand and stepped back with a faint smile. “Let me know if you need more materials for your tests. I really do find your dedication admirable.”

The puppet rolled his eyes, annoyed. “You keep saying that.”

“Because it’s true,” the traveler said, flashing that one particular smile at him, the one he only gave Kazeharu. “How many times do I have to say it before you’ll believe me?”

He was silent for a moment. Would he ever believe that? There was nothing to admire about him, whatever the traveler thought.

“I don’t know,” was all he actually said in reply.

Chapter Text

“You can call me Nahida too, you know,” the little god says, blinking up at him with those huge green eyes. “It’s not necessary to be so formal with me all of the time.”

“As incredible as it might sound,” Kazeharu says, folding his arms and glaring down at her, “I do actually have some respect for you as a god, Buer.”

She blinks at him again. He continues, poking her chest for emphasis, “I refuse to address you so familiarly when you deserve more reverence than that. Be glad I’m not insisting on your full title instead of your godly name.”

Aether had to mentally applaud his own accidental brilliance for thinking to put Haru’s new workshop behind the house. From the kitchen, where he was making breakfast, he had a perfect view of the anvils where the man stood to hammer out the test ingots he’d been making the past few days. His hat hung from a hook on the wall above the workbench, and with his haori folded neatly on the drafting table along with his draping outer mantle, that sheer black bodysuit was the only thing concealing any of the wanderer’s back while he worked. And really, it more accentuated his elemental markings and the muscles there than it did anything else, displaying them in all their artificial glory as they shifted smoothly under those prominent circular scars, moving with each ringing blow to the current target of his hammer.

He had to admit, privately at least, that it was stunningly attractive - the black of the high slim gloves paired with the sleeveless skin-tight suit against that pale complexion. The broad shoulders were so much more solid than the dainty-seeming slivers of skin the loose haori showed, and the swooping lines of the open sleeves to the high neck just emphasized the perfectly crafted biceps that had been so lovingly rendered by his creator. (He might not be terribly fond of the woman, even after they’d set aside their differences - still, he would certainly admit she had the aesthetic sensibilities to create an exquisitely rendered beauty for this supposed prototype body.)

It was truly a pleasure just to watch the man work, swift, practiced motions juggling the bars he was heating in the forge with the ones he was hammering into shape on the anvil, swapping them in and out as the glow in one began to fade and another grew hot enough to manipulate. He got the same feeling of awe watching any master craftsman at work, marveling at their skill, the hours and hours of practice and work to get to the point where everything they did looked so easy and routine that you could be forgiven for thinking it really was. From the glimpses he caught of the contentment on Haru’s face, he was enjoying losing himself in the process as well.

That, more than anything, was the best part about his view of the workshop. It wasn’t often the puppet relaxed enough to stop controlling his emotions so rigidly, and the gentleness it brought to his face gave Aether real hope that he’d find his peace some day. He definitely wouldn’t mind seeing that quiet almost-smile more often.

Another unexpected benefit was that he could tap gently on the kitchen window and Haru’s insane hearing would catch it, even over the noise of the forge and hammer. Like now, when he turned to look and Aether raised the teacup he was holding slightly, to show that the tea was done. The puppet merely nodded, and began putting away his tools, shutting down the forge and laying out the newly created bars of metal to cool. He took care to wipe himself down with a clean rag to remove any soot before he put the rest of his outfit back on, shrugging into the loose sleeves and retying his belt with practiced ease. He’d been considerate enough not to use the forge while Aether was sleeping - Paimon slept too heavily to care about that - and this early morning period after the traveler woke had quickly become his usual practice time, before they shared breakfast (or at least tea, in Haru’s case) and then their morning sparring session. 

It was somewhat surprising that the smell of fresh pancakes hadn’t woken Paimon, yet, but she’d be there sooner or later. He left her stack under the warm glow of the heating rack by the oven, carrying his own plate and the tea things over on a small tray to the table by the couches. One cup for Haru, one for himself, and a thick spoonful of honey in his own. As much as the other man enjoyed the pure ascerbic taste of the blackest teas, Aether himself preferred to be kind to his poor tongue (the caffeine was quite welcome though, being why he bothered to drink it at all. It didn’t affect him quite the same way it did mortals, but it was a pleasant zing of clarity in the mornings.)

He was taking a first sip of his own cup by the time he heard the front door open briefly to announce Haru’s return. The puppet sat across from him in his usual spot, lifting his still steaming tea to his lips without comment. His eyes seemed distant today, focusing on something not quite there, and Aether sat back to examine this unusually quiet wanderer.

The man wasn’t talking to Nahida. It was easy to tell when he did, as he was just as expressive in his mental chats with her as in his verbal ones. This was something else, and Aether suspected he knew the cause.

“Thinking about the past?” he asked, setting his drink down to start on his food. The wanderer’s gaze focused again, eyeing him warily over the rim of his own cup, before giving a half-hearted shrug.

“It’s been one year, today,” Haru said pensively, leaning back against the couch and staring at the vaulted ceiling past the balcony above. “One year, since I erased myself.”

“Should I say happy birthday, then?” Aether said with a smile. 

“I don’t have a birthday, dumbass,” the puppet said, perfect blue eyes snapping back down to scowl at him. “I never did. I was made, not born.”

“Rebirthday, then,” the traveler said, knowing the other man’s feelings would be especially complex today. If he could help lighten the mood a little, he would.

“That’s stupid,” Haru said, rolling his eyes at the presumptuousness of his tablemate. “No.”

Aether simply smiled wider, continuing to tease in a lighthearted tone. “We can make you a cake, and light a candle for it.”

He was rewarded with a more normal glare. “Seriously, that’s not funny.”

“Who said I was being funny?” the traveler asked with a smile. “It’s been a whole year, and you’ve come so far, Sir Second Sage of Buer. Master of your vision, a deadly force of unparalleled destruction and a graceful soaring denizen of the sky above - a preeminent member of your adopted Darshan, refuting entire essays using only the author’s own sources to back up your own knowledge; making diplomatic visits on behalf of Sumeru to other nations even, and bringing honor to your new name as you do.”

Kazeharu’s face was starting to redden at the apparently sincere words. “Okay, no, stop. Stop. I don’t want to hear it.”

“Why not? You should be proud of yourself,” Aether said, utterly serious. “I think the past year would be something worth celebrating.”

The heat in the other man’s face hadn’t left, but he bit out the starkly opposing words nonetheless. “There is nothing about me worth celebrating, don’t fool yourself.”

“We could invite Nahida, and make your favorite tea and ochazuke for dinner,” the blonde said, ignoring the protests and spinning out the scenario to it’s logical conclusion, “and you could open presents afterward.”

Haru almost choked on his tea at that, coughing as he cleared his throat to complain. “Where the hell are you going to get presents from in less than a day, asshole? I’m not interested in accepting some random useless gift to appease your stupid ego.”

“Ah, well, actually,” Aether said, wondering if it was wise to mention this.

“Actually what?” said Kazeharu, apprehension forming on his face.

It probably wouldn’t hurt to tell him, he decided. “I may have picked up a couple things in Fontaine I thought you might like but I hadn’t figured out a good time to give them to you yet.”

“Unbelievable,” the man muttered with a huff. “You’re ridiculous. Ludicrous, in fact.”

That wasn’t an objection, the traveler noted. “I think it would be fun!”

“At least spare me the cake, if you’re insisting on doing something,” the puppet said with a defeated sigh. “You can put a candle on the goddamn chazuke if you really want.”

“Okay, but - I’ve been researching how to make all these spice and sponge cakes recently,” he said brightly. “Those aren’t always sweet, you know.”

The look on the other’s face was pure unamused resignation. “You just want to make me suffer, admit it.”

Aether gasped in mock horror at the accusation, placing one hand on his chest as if swearing an oath. “I would never!”

“Suffer,” Haru repeated flatly for emphasis, completely unmoved by the dramatics. “In abject humiliation.”

The blonde decided he could throw the man a lifeline if he really hated the idea, since he was so emphatic about it. “We could also pretend that it’s a new year’s celebration if it makes you happier; Mondstadt celebrates it about now you know. Two days ago, in fact.”

“What I’m gathering from this conversation is that there will be a party and cake whether or not I agree to it.”

“I mean yeah, if you really don’t want a birthday cake I just won’t write happy birthday on it. I’m still going to make it though.” It was an excellent opportunity to try out some of his theories about making a cake the man would actually like. Most of those theories involved chocolate and coffee.

“Tch.” The vicious click of Haru’s tongue wasn’t muffled in the slightest behind the teacup as he raised it for another sip. “Do whatever you want, it’s not like I could stop you.”

“Well, if you really don’t care, I’ll just write Happy Birthday Hat Guy in big letters on the top.”

That got his attention. “Don’t you dare. She doesn’t need anyone else encouraging her bullshit.”

“You never did tell me how that happened, anyway.”

“Ugh.” The wanderer brought a hand up to his forehead and massaged the frown lines between his eyebrows there. “There was a spot on the paperwork for my legal name, and then a second for the contestant name they'd use. I told her it didn’t matter since I wasn’t actually there to participate, just to keep an eye on the diadem.”

“And she called you Hat Guy.” Leave it to Nahida to assign him a silly nickname to teach him not to pretend he didn’t have opinions about things. (The man absolutely had opinions about things, he just liked to pretend that he still didn’t care about trivial and mundane mortal concerns.)

“…I’ve been called worse,” was all Haru said, but the twitch by his eye made it clear how much it irritated him.

“I don’t doubt that,” Aether said, glancing towards the movement as his bedroom door finally opened to let out a sleepy, bedraggled Paimon, still clutching her pillow and half asleep as she bobbed gently in the air towards them. That was his cue to set down his own plate and stand up to retrieve hers. He poured her a cup of juice while he was up, knowing she liked to wash down her overly large mouthfuls when she bit off more than she could chew. “Good morning, Paimon,” he said, offering her the plate and holding it just out of her reach so he could lure her back to the table with it. He set it down next to his own plate and watched her plop down on the couch without complaint to start shoveling the pancakes into her mouth.

“G’morning,” she mumbled around the first bite, reaching for the sunsettia juice glass before he could put that on the table too and immediately taking a gulp. 

A little bit of food was all it took to rouse her properly, and after a couple more bites she piped up cheerfully, mouth full of pancake, “So what’re we doing today? Commissions?”

“Close your mouth when you chew, Pai,” he reminded her, before announcing, “anyway, Haru’s never had a birthday before,” and he watched Paimon’s face pull into a horrified gasp and heard Haru’s resigned sigh from across the table. “So, since it’s been one year today since his third life started, I’m making him a cake. I figure we can follow the same Mondstadt traditions we do for you.”

“That makes so much sense! He’s getting presents, right?” Paimon said, wiggling in excitement. “Paimon will make him open presents if he’s never had a birthday before. Cake is the best part but presents are the second best!”

“Of course he’s getting presents, Paimon. I have two already, and I’m sure we can get him something from you when we go invite Nahida. She’ll probably want to get him something too, so we can all stop by the bazaar.”

“I never agreed to any of this,” the wanderer stated with a huff. “I hope you’re not planning to drag me into this nonsense too, because I have work to do.”

“You’re not allowed,” Paimon sniffed. “You aren’t supposed to see your presents early, you know.”

“In that case,” the man said, standing and draining his teacup, “I’m leaving before anyone else comes up with any other stupid ideas involving me.” The empty cup hit the table with a click, and he left the domain in a swirl of wind before the words had even faded from the air. Apparently they would not be sparring that day.

“Hmph,” Paimon said, waving her finger sternly at the now-empty space as though it could hear her, “You’re getting presents whether you want them or not, Wanderer! Let’s go find Nahida, Traveler.”

“A birthday celebration for Kazeharu?” the little god said, tapping a finger thoughtfully against her lips. “I think that’s a wonderful idea! It’s always good to give him another chance to understand that his presence is appreciated, not tolerated.”

“He says that he didn’t have a birthday, before,” Aether said, following her along the curving walkway above the lower sanctuary. “I can’t say I believe that - the day he woke for the first time is still his birthday, however he came into existence - but I do understand that it might not be associated with pleasant memories, and he might not know when that actually was.”

“This date could certainly be considered a birthday of sorts,” Nahida said, “considering his past incarnations, or ‘lives’ as he refers to them, really did cease to exist first when he erased himself, and then recovered and reintegrated his memories of the real past. Today truly is the day his third life began.”

“So,” she said, spinning to face the traveler, clasping her dainty hands under that deceptively youthful face, “of course I’ll help! In fact, I believe I already have something that would serve as a suitable gift for him, though I had initially intended to reward him with it once he completes his final thesis.”

She puffed up proudly, arms akimbo, and said with a tiny grin, “However, I won’t pass up the chance to see his reaction to it earlier. It could be years, after all, and there will be plenty of time to find another suitable gift for that.”

“That means Paimon is the only one that doesn’t already have something,” the little sprite said, drooping disappointedly and sinking closer to the ground. “Paimon really wanted to go to the bazaar.”

“Paimon wanted to get snacks,” Aether corrected her with a smile, knowing that was the real reason for her dismay.

“A-and so what if Paimon did!” she said, folding her arms with an embarrassed huff and sticking her nose in the air. “Paimon can still look for a gift while she’s eating baklava!”

“I’m sure she can,” Aether agreed, patting her fondly on the head. “We’ll still go. It wouldn’t hurt for us to pick up some wrapping supplies while we’re there either.”

“Hee hee, Paimon will find the best gift, just you wait.” She darted towards the entrance of the sanctuary without waiting for the other two to follow, halting briefly by the doors to wave at them and command them to ‘hurry up!’ and ‘come on, we don’t want them to run out of candy before we get there!’

The bazaar was just as crowded as usual when they reached it, the continuous flow of people between the clustered stalls uninterrupted by something so mundane as their god and archon descending from her lofty home to mingle. Her people greeted her cheerfully, of course, many offering bows and smiles followed by free samples to entice her to buy more - she accepted them gracefully, and split them with her companions. The lion’s share of the edible samples ended up in Paimon’s hands, of course, to no one’s surprise.

Aether ended up carrying the bulk of their purchases, slinging bags full of bright foil and colorful ribbons over his shoulder, while Nahida and Paimon excitedly discussed the contents of each stall they browsed. One stuffed toy turned into two, then three, one book into five, and both girls were ecstatic when he bought them freshly roasted and dipped candied ajilenakh nuts for them to nibble on. Sticky fingers were washed in the fountain outside the Zubayr Theatre before they dove back in to the shops to continue searching for, as Paimon put it, ‘the perfect gift to make Wanderer so mad that Paimon found it for him.’

That dubious criteria aside, she did genuinely seem to want to get him something, but she was going to have to hurry and choose something soon, if there was going to be time for them to get back and wrap the presents and for him to make the cake and the ochazuke. He wouldn’t make the puppet do it himself, not on his newly declared birthday, but he was definitely going to need a little extra time to prepare a dish he was unfamiliar with. 

It looked simple enough, in theory: rice, tea, sesame seeds and pickled plums. Hopefully he would do it enough justice that Haru wouldn’t be offended.

Chapter Text

She smiles at him with a fondness he doesn’t deserve, clasping her hands before her as she speaks. “It’s not disrespect to use my personal name if I’ve explicitly given you permission,” she says gently. “Which, you may recall, I just did. Personal names are a reflection of intimacy and comfort between individuals, whereas using more formal names creates distance between them.”

She pauses for him to contribute to the conversation, but he has nothing to say. 

“I understand if you don’t feel comfortable with that level of closeness between us, but I merely want you to know that the option is there for you. It's only natural for you to be fearful of relationships, considering how much manipulation you’ve suffered-”

“I am not fearful,” he snaps. He isn’t.

Kazeharu briefly considered just not going back into the teapot that day, but grudgingly admitted to himself that the three of them were persistent enough to just wait until he thought he was safe before ambushing him. He wasn’t opposed to acknowledging that it really had been a whole year - it did seem like an important milestone of sorts - but going so far as to call it a birthday and celebrating it was both unnecessary and ridiculous. 

He took out his frustration on several wayward camps of eremites that had been reported to the matra as causing problems, relishing in their obvious fear as their bodies were flung high in the air with simple, casual gestures. Some of them he kept suspended in the air for some time with carefully timed slashes of wind, just to amuse himself. He didn’t kill any of them, of course - he’d been given strict orders not to by Buer, as they hadn’t been murdering anyone themselves - but he left a thorough and menacing impression before chasing them out of the villages they’d been terrorizing.

That done, he felt less annoyed about the nonsense that morning, enough to move on to the next batch of requests, asking him to locate several missing scholars who had gotten too close to the ongoing feud in the desert and disappeared. Presumably they’d just been captured or gotten lost, as scholars weren’t the real targets of the fighting.

Speeding above the dunes through the smouldering desert air was enough to lift the rest of his bad mood, and he let himself bask in the heat pounding down around him, as the air whipped past in sharp gusts that flowed around him like rushing water. Perhaps, once he found the scholars and relocated them, he could find a nice isolated sandstone ruin to sun himself on until night fell. It seemed much more appealing than trying to deal with whatever nonsense the traveler was working on right at that moment.

Rescuing the missing scholars consisted of dropping in from above on the middle of the eremite camp in question, halo on full display in a show of power that would be hard to ignore, and demanding they be released. He was starting to gain something of a reputation among the darker underbelly of Sumeru’s criminal and not-quite-criminal organizations, and the puppet would be the first to admit that he was enjoying the terror he inspired among them. It was so incredibly reminiscent of the cowering of his Fatui subordinates, but this time, he was on the other side of the law, and somehow that made it acceptable (the General Mahamatra, in fact, was encouraging it, having a similar reputation himself). The pathetic insects still feared him - as they should - but the regular citizens of Sumeru were if not welcoming, at least respectful, and sometimes even grateful for his efforts.

It took only the briefest display of his full strength on an overly optimistic spearman for the camp leaders to wisely decide to let the scholars go, and he escorted them out of the canyon without bothering to look back. They weren’t worth anything in terms of the real battle - they’d just been in the wrong place at the wrong time. That didn’t stop him from leaving them at the nearest friendly merchant outpost with his sharpest disdainful comments regarding their intelligence for failing to avoid the blindingly obvious conflict in the area. No, it didn’t matter what they were trying to research, there were less stupid ways to do it.

The sun was dipping below the horizon as he pulled away from the outpost to head back to the city proper, and he paused midair to take in the spectacle stretching across the slowly rolling dunes, with their sparsely placed ruins scattered under the wide arch of the darkening sky. He hovered there, silently, as the light faded into twilight; watched the last sliver of molten sunlight slide beneath the edge of the world.

A thought occurred to him, as he considered other ways he could prolong his return to the teapot domain. Perhaps he could just use his stealth module to sneak past the traveler and into his own room, and avoid the issue entirely. It seemed worth a shot - once inside his room, he could simply refuse to entertain their silly notions in the first place.

Unfortunately, he hadn’t counted on Buer’s ability to sense his presence. He might have grown skilled enough to block her from reading his thoughts unless he allowed it, but as soon as he slipped inside through an open window in one of the side halls, her head turned and she stared straight at him as though he weren’t invisible at all. (He was. He double checked when he saw her look at him, and the stealth module was functioning perfectly.)

She smiled brightly and those big green eyes told him just how much trouble he was in for trying to avoid them. “Oh, Traveler, he’s back, finally,” she said, clapping her hands excitedly. Two other heads turned in the direction of her gaze, and he reluctantly deactivated the stealth module, realizing it was useless to try hiding when he’d already been spotted. No point wasting its power, after all.

“Haru,” Aether said, his face lighting up. “We’ve been waiting for you. Everything’s all set up, come on over.” He held out his hand eagerly.

Kazeharu eyed it grumpily. Nobody moved for a moment, as he stood there and looked at it, briefly considering all the ways he could decline viciously. Then he took a deep breath and sighed, a deliberate show of his reluctance, and took the hand to let the traveler pull him over to the central table where Paimon was lying sprawled out next to Buer, taking up more than her fair share of that couch. That left him the seat by Aether, and he took it as though he wasn’t dreading the rest of the evening. 

“We’ve got your favorite tea, of course,” the man said, “and I spent all afternoon baking your cake after we got back with Nahida.”

“I helped,” the little god chirped cheerfully. “I crushed the ajilenakh nuts!” Said nuts were scattered liberally over the top of the glossy brown cake, around an elegantly styled Happy Birthday Kazeharu written in delicate dark piping. The promised single candle stood prominently in the middle, still unlit.

“It’s a coffee nut sponge,” Aether said with a grin and a flourish of his free hand, “with a whipped mocha buttercream and tempered dark chocolate for the glaze and piping.”

He squinted suspiciously at the thing. It was definitely a cake. But none of those flavors were what Kazeharu would call sweet - far from it. Coffee was a local beverage he’d come to enjoy almost as much as tea, living in Sumeru, and their chocolate drinks and bars were similarly bitter without added sweetening. It almost sounded palatable. 

“But,” the blonde said, standing up to retrieve the covered bowls in the kitchen, “before cake we should have dinner! I did my best to replicate the dish you made for us but please do point out anything I got wrong.”

It looked right, at least. Tasted… decent. It was a fair approximation, for not having been instructed on the hows and whys. “It’s not terrible,” he said, after a moment. Paimon, across from them, snorted over her bulging cheeks as she stuffed her face. 

“You just don’t know how to admit that he can make it as well as you!” she said, pointing with her chopsticks.

“Actually,” Kazeharu drawled airily, as if totally unconcerned about the little terror’s opinion, “This particular rice strain is tricky to cook properly. It’s slightly undercooked - you can tell because the grains are still too firm and haven’t expanded quite as much as they should have. I would use a different, lighter variety, were I cooking it. And the tea, while well steeped, hasn’t sat long enough with the rice to truly infuse it with the proper flavour. The presentation is acceptable, at least, as expected of the eminent Traveler, but personally I would have shaped the rice before pouring the tea, and then added the toppings-”

Aether laughed. “Your complaints are duly noted, o most magnanimous Wanderer,” he said over Buer’s giggles and Paimon’s affronted squawking.

“Good,” the puppet said haughtily, smirking. “Do better next time.” If he let there be a next time, that was. It really wasn’t bad, though, and he appreciated the attempt enough to eat his serving.

The cake was a whole ordeal in and of itself, what with lighting the single candle and three discordant voices (one distinctly amused, one flat and unenthusiastic, and one blithely cheerful) singing an approximation of the same tune at him, wishing him a happy birthday that nearly made his ears bleed. He was more than glad to blow the candle out at Paimon’s enthusiastic urging, just to put an end to the painful spectacle. 

Once the disarmingly innocuous creation had finally been sliced and pieces handed out, Kazeharu couldn’t help regarding the thing on his plate with dread. It didn’t look sticky, at least, which was a major point in its favor, but despite the rich coffee smell, he still wasn’t convinced it wouldn’t be horribly sweet.

He was still reluctantly prodding it with his fork when Aether said sternly to Paimon, already reaching for a second slice, “Don’t eat too much of that, Paimon. Unlike Haru, you’re not immune to things and I know the caffeine in it will affect you and make it hard for you to sleep.” Paimon made a face, but only put the one new slice on her plate. Aether added, turning to Buer, her eyes closed as she ate tiny forkfuls while swinging her feet back and forth in apparent bliss, “Not sure if that applies to archons too, Nahida, but a heads up in case it does.”

“We will simply have to find out,” the little god said, opening her eyes and smiling gleefully. “I haven’t tried anything caffeinated this late before! The world is full of exciting new experiences, isn’t it?”

Kazeharu let out an involuntary snort at that. Of course she would see it like that. 

“Aren’t you going to at least try it, Haru?” the other man said, turning back to the puppet and fidgeting with his own fork, those amber eyes wide and pleading. “I made it just for you, you know, I really think you’ll like it.”

“Oh, fine,” he muttered, slicing a little to scoop up with his fork. Just because he didn’t think Aether needed to go to all that trouble didn’t mean he could resist the thought of leaving him disappointed. He certainly didn’t need to see those stupid doe eyes the man pulled out when he was really making a point of how sad he was. He tried to ignore the three sets of eyes watching intently for his reaction as he took the first bite.

The cake was soft and light, the coffee flavor strong and rich throughout, with the bitter hint of chocolate in the thick cream just strong enough to complement the otherwise mild flavor of the filling. The tiny scattered pieces of nut added a touch of crunch and vibrancy to the overwhelming indulgence of the cake that was melting so easily on his tongue. 

It was definitely a dessert. And yet, it was the complete opposite of sweet and sticky, and even as he chewed it didn’t become gooey or gross, simply falling apart in his mouth and leaving only the rich notes of coffee behind. The idiot traveler had managed the impossible. Kazeharu might actually like the damn thing.

He took a second bite to make sure.

 “I… don’t hate it,” he said after a long moment, blinking back his surprise.

“That means he really likes it,” Paimon said in a loud stage whisper to Buer, not even pretending to be ashamed when he shot her a fuming glare. They were both giggling at him now, the tiny assholes.

The traveler hadn’t said anything, but he was beaming like the literal sunbeam he was inside. How incredibly irritating, that not only had the man proved himself right, but now he was smiling like that at Kazeharu. He really needed to wipe that look off his face before the puppet was compelled to do something terrible to him.

The quickest solution: force him to stop. “Stop that,” he said, planting his palm over Aether’s ridiculous smile.

Touching him proved to be a mistake; he could feel exactly how elated the man was under that smile and trying to cover it, unfortunately, didn’t seem to do anything but make the stupid man grin harder. He could feel the smile widen against his palm, and his frown twisted into a scowl. “Seriously, stop it. I don’t care if you found the cure for death, nobody has the right to look that goddamn happy.”

Aether’s hand crept up and gently tugged at the puppet’s wrist, pulling it away from his face long enough to spout a line of that liquid sunshine that was his native language, still smiling that infernal smile directly at him.

“The hell is that supposed to mean?” he said grumpily. “In case you’ve forgotten, I’m not a star.”

Buer’s dainty little hand covered another titter as she told him, “Smiles are the same in every language, you know, Kazeharu.”

“So are tears,” he snapped. He didn’t need all three of them laughing at him.

Paimon gasped and protested, “Wanderer, that’s horrible! Don’t be mean to Nahida.”

“Would you rather I had said screams?” he said, rolling his eyes. “I could’ve said that first, you know.”

There was a snort from the man next to him, and he could feel the rising amusement through the blonde’s hand where it was still holding on to his wrist. “Alright, alright,” Aether said, switching back to Teyvatan common, “Let’s stop teasing Haru, he’s allowed to like things too.” 

“Hmph,” he said with a huff, reclaiming his hand and viciously cutting another bite of the cake. “I honestly don’t know why I bother to tolerate you lot.” 

“Paimon knows why,” she said smugly. “It’s ‘cus you lo-”

The traveler hastily interrupted her before she could finish such a dangerous statement. “We’re done teasing him, remember, Pai?”

“I’m going to pretend that I didn’t hear that,” the puppet said, graciously allowing the menace to live just a little longer because he didn’t want to divert his attention from the cake again. (It really was good. Dark as sin and bitter as hell, just the way he liked it.)

Another small laugh from Buer, as she reached over and belatedly served herself a second slice, long after the other two had. “If I’m correct, following the cake rituals the presents are opened? I must admit it’s just so interesting actually participating in these traditions instead of simply learning about them.” Her tiny hands gestured as she spoke, tracing elegant shapes through the air to match her enthusiasm. “Descriptions really don’t properly convey the space in the world that the separate parts take up, the time and emotion and physical presence for each small piece. Even the simple act of eating this cake comes with so much conversation and interaction that would be considered too unremarkable to record, and yet I always seem to feel that it’s those very things that truly make the experience special!”

“Ah,” she sighed happily, swinging her feet as her eyes sparkled brightly in the light of the hall. “It’s so wonderful to see the world for myself, as myself, after all this time. It’s always more beautiful than anything I ever dreamed during those five hundred years I was sealed.”

She, of anyone, deserved that happiness, for that gentle kindness she had shown even him, her sworn enemy and usurper. And now? Kazeharu would personally destroy anyone that tried to take it from her. “Coming from the god of dreams,” he said, lowering his fork back to his plate, “that’s a rather impressive statement.” Five hundred years. Would he have grown to miss the world as much as she did, had everything gone to plan and he been trapped in the Shouki no Kami for a similar length of time? It wasn’t a thought he liked to contemplate anymore, because it came with a host of other implications. 

In that world, Buer would be dead. Aether would be dead, and likely Paimon with him. There would be nobody to scold him for his rudeness or give him stupid nicknames, nobody to stick his tongue out at after a silly argument, nobody to smile brightly and cook him dishes made just for him with no sweetness to them. Perhaps in that world, there would have been nothing left to miss anymore anyway, because everything worthwhile was dead or gone.

There would have been Dottore, and pain, and fearful worship, and the crackling electricity of the gnosis that he’d given up everything for.

A fate worse than death, if he was being honest.

One short year.

It felt like an eternity away from that other reality.

He looked up to find Buer’s eyes on him, and he knew she’d read his mind when she gave him an understanding smile. It wasn’t like he’d tried to stop her, but he grimaced uncomfortably anyway. 

“Perhaps we should start on those presents,” she suggested with a clap of her hands, covering for him. 

“PAIMON FIRST,” was the immediate response, and the sprite finally moved from the couch, darting off towards Aether’s office to retrieve an oversized package wrapped in silver foil and tied with a brilliantly patterned red ribbon. The thing was nearly as big as she was, and Kazeharu couldn’t help but eye it apprehensively. What the hell was in there? Why was it so large?

She dropped it in his lap with a proud smile, and it was surprisingly light for its size. “Open it,” she demanded, hovering over him with an intense stare.

“Fine, fine,” he muttered, leaning away from her too-close face. He tugged the ends of the ribbon sitting under the overly complicated bow - likely Aether’s work, knowing him - and managed to find the key knot to untangle so that the bow unraveled and he could simply pull the ribbon off. 

“Come onnn,” Paimon whined, as his fingers inspected the foil and found the folded corners to tug apart, “you’re so sloww! Just rip it off!”

Well, if she wanted him to be faster, then of course he would do his best to do the exact opposite. His fingers slowed to a glacial crawl as he very, very carefully pried the foil apart so he could remove it in one unbroken sheet, much to Paimon’s eternal disgust. He cackled unrepentantly as she groaned and clawed at her cheeks in impatience, dragging down her lower lids to expose the insides in a purely disgusting expression that he made sure to take note of for future weaponization. He folded the foil prettily for good measure, sticking his tongue out at Paimon as he did, then finally removed the lid.

The box was empty. 

No, wait. There, in the corner, was a single tiny package, also wrapped in silver foil and a piece of the first ribbon.

It was Paimon’s turn to cackle, pointing at him in sadistic delight and exclaiming, “YOU SHOULD SEE YOUR FACE,” while Aether covered a snort and Buer clapped at the hilarity of their reactions. Paimon did a tiny backflip in the air from pure compressed perverse glee, and he could feel the muscle by his eye twitch. She would regret that. He’d make sure of it.

He wasn’t going to take his frustration out on the little package after he’d started so nicely with the big one - it was the principle of the thing - so he forced himself to open it just as glacially slowly as the first. 

It was… eyeliner? The same brilliant red that he normally wore at the outer corners, in a little package of three. Except he already had a supply of eyeliner. He directed his confused scowl at the little floating pixie, but before he could say anything, she declared proudly, “It’s waterproof. And sun proof. That way you won’t get red streaks all down your face when you go out in the jungle to fight things anymore.”

Oh. That was, surprisingly… not completely useless. He hadn’t yet found a waterproof Sumeran makeup brand to replace the Snezhnayan one he’d used to use, not that he’d really been looking that hard. What was he supposed to do now? Say thank you? Probably, knowing human customs.

“Thanks, I guess,” he muttered, extremely quietly.

“Paimon heard that! Kazeharu said thank you, and that means Paimon wins!”

Wins? Wins what, a bet? Hell no.

“Clean your ears, pipsqueak,” he snarled, “I said no such thing.”

“You did! You can’t take it back now!” She did another jubilant loop in the air, then flew back to Aether’s office still laughing. Seconds later, she emerged again clutching an overstuffed blue plush animal - no, on closer look it was an aranara, with embroidered black eyes and crooked mouth under a wide mushroom top - with a perfectly tied teal and purple ribbon around its neck. She flew back and dropped it on top of the startled puppet, declaring, “It was supposed to be in the big box but then it didn’t fit and Paimon took it out, but Wanderer said thank you so Paimon decided to give it to him anyway.”

He stared at the thing. He knew what it meant when people brought him things that were this particular color blue by now, but he asked anyway, “Are you sure this isn’t yours?”

“Hee hee, nope, Paimon has a white one, and Nahida has a green one!” As if to prove it she darted back to the office yet again and hauled out two more stuffed aranara, white and green just like she said.

“Now we’re done,” she declared proudly, plopping her little self back down by Buer, who tugged her own plush from Paimon’s grasp and hugged it with a bright smile. He gaped at the two apparent plushie conspirators for a moment, then shut his mouth with an audible snap.

“…okay then,” he said, shoving the plush at a laughing Aether, who nearly dropped it in surprise. The man could keep the dumb thing as far as he was concerned.

“My turn, then,” the traveler said, plush safely tucked beneath one arm. He reached down underneath the couch and pulled out two much more reasonably sized boxes, to Kazeharu’s relief. They were also much easier to unwrap, and he quickly divested the boxes of their colorful outer coats. The first was a rather chunky black mug, much plainer and unappealing than the tea set upstairs.

“It’s the latest Fontaine tech,” Aether explained. “That one keeps the contents warm when it’s in contact with an electro crystal, so you can just slot one into the handle there and it’ll keep your tea warm while you’re working at night.”

Huh. It might be ugly, but that would actually be really helpful when he got distracted by reports and would take a sip only to find his tea stone cold. He gave it a thoughtful frown, then carefully placed it on the table so he could open the second box.

It was a white mug, with exactly the same design. “Let me guess,” he said dryly, “this one keeps things cold.”

Aether nodded, smiling sheepishly. “Could be good for smoothies, or iced drinks. I figured it wouldn’t hurt to get them both even if you’d probably get more use from the warm one.”

How thoughtful of the man, as usual. He had to wonder when they’d have been sprung on him if the traveler hadn’t thought of this party for an excuse. “Well, at least your presents are useful,” he said, eyeing Paimon across the table.
 
“Hey! Paimon’s gifts are just fine!” she said with a pout. 

He ignored her, turning instead to Buer and asking pointedly, “So what unholy monstrosity are you going to pawn off on me, Buer?”

She smiled at him instead of responding to the taunt, and hopped off their couch to pull another wrapped present out from under it. This one was even larger than Paimon’s, flat and oblong. He squinted at it suspiciously as she very carefully passed it over to him, treating it like it was extremely fragile. There were two separate bows, in two different colors of blue, and after they were untied he delicately pried the paper apart, hoping whatever Buer had gotten him wasn’t so flimsy as to break just from the unwrapping.

He paused when his fingers touched leather. Suddenly, the shape and size of the package seemed incredibly suspicious, and his hands hurried to pull the paper off and prove that he was imagining things. Except, it appeared he wasn’t imagining things. Under his fingers lay what was unmistakably an instrument case. He knew immediately what must be inside, and he stopped to take a deep breath. He hadn’t played properly in hundreds of years. How far back in his memories had she gone to find this?

“You dreamed of it so many times, when you were first here,” Buer said, very quietly, a clear answer to his unspoken question. “It was one of the very few dreams I didn’t have to manipulate into a less dangerous form. I thought you might appreciate having one again.”

He didn’t know how to feel about this. His fingers were still running across the leather, tracing the familiar yet indisputably newly-crafted curves and seams, finding Kazeharu stamped in thin Inazuman characters across the top face and a blooming lotus on each side. The urge to open it and examine the presumed shamisen inside was strong, but at the same time the thought filled him with dread.

“I hope you’re not expecting me to play for you,” he said eventually in lieu of opening the case, his voice unexpectedly rough. He cleared his throat, but his voice was still just a little gravelly as he continued, “I haven’t played in centuries.”

He looked up as Aether reached over to rest his hand gently on one of the puppets, soothing calm flooding into his mind from the touch. “You don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to,” he said, smiling softly. “It’s enough that you appreciate the gift itself. Right, Nahida?” The little god simply nodded, her tiny smile gentle and so, so fond. It was… too much. It was all just too much.

Now seemed like an excellent time to distract himself with more cake instead.

Chapter Text

“You can call it what you like,” the little god says, hands still clasped before her, serene and unruffled by the interruption. “Discomfort, fear, reluctance. Caution, perhaps. The fact remains that your experiences have affected how you perceive interpersonal relationships, and viewing them as a danger to you is harmful to your mental stability.”

“I’m just a puppet,” he reminds her. “My ‘mental stability’ has nothing to do with my utility, and so it doesn’t matter.”

“Of course it matters,” she says. “Everything matters. You matter.”

“Keep fooling yourself, little god,” he says, feeling the discomfort of her apparent concern twist inside his hollow chest. “If I mattered at all, then history would have actually changed when I erased myself.”

Several weeks later, the little routine they’d settled into was broken when Aether returned from his explorations of Fontaine to find they had an important visitor.

“Kazuha!” Aether said, forgetting to close the door in his haste to join the samurai at the central table. Behind him, a sleepy Paimon was left with the monumental task of closing it herself - and promptly delegated it to Tubby, electing instead to drift off into the corridor with their bedroom, intent on a nap.

“Traveler,” the Inazuman greeted him cordially, raising a hand and smiling. “As we discussed on my last visit, I have brought further updates from Heizou, and the formalized documentation from the shogunate for my errant cousin, as well as some other relevant documents I believe he will wish to see.”

“So you got everything all worked out with the other clan heads?” he asked eagerly.

“And the Shogun,” Kazuha nodded. “I did have to discuss some of the more… personal details with her, but she was not opposed to the proposed punishment I brought before her.”

“That’s fantastic. I honestly have to thank you,” the traveler said, tossing him a relieved smile.  “I haven’t seen him this motivated since… well, since he earned his vision, really.”

The samurai smiled at that himself. “I am glad that it has brought him a measure of certainty in his life.”

“He spent all night recreating schematics and diagrams from memory after you left,” Aether assured him, “and started reviewing his skills the very next day. It was quite sweet, actually.”

“I saw the workshop you added. For him, I assume?”

“And you too,” the traveler said with a nod. “There’s two anvils so you can both work at the same time.”

“I appreciate the thought, and I expect it will be useful for smaller projects,” Kazuha said. “You’ll also be happy to know that as part of the deal with the shogunate, the Kamisato clan has agreed to host the main forges for the revived Isshin art. Their estate will manage the details of the construction and locating students, when we get to that point.”

“Oh, that’s perfect!”

“Yes, I quite agree. I would not have wanted to usurp the Amenoma clan’s facilities, and the Kamisatos are the last clan still standing associated with the Isshin art.” He paused, tilting his head and stating carefully, “We will, however, need to decide upon a location for the actual building at some point, and I would prefer to have the input of our other master smith for that as well as mine.”

Aether frowned. “Meaning you want him to go back to Inazuma,” he said slowly. “I honestly don’t know if he’s ready for that, yet, Kaz.”

“It doesn’t have to be right away, Iviathe. I read the written testimony you sent too, so I understand his reluctance. But he’ll have to return eventually. The intent is to instruct Inazumans, in Inazuma, on an inherently Inazuman art form.”

“I know. When he’s ready, he’ll go. Tell me about the rest, will you?”

It was late, when Kazeharu finally got back. He’d spent half the day chasing an infuriatingly chipper aranara across the jungle, unable to get it to clarify about what it wanted beyond “bad naras” and “nasty sneaking traps and cages!”

Eventually he’d been able to determine the thing had witnessed an abduction in progress, and while it had led him straight to the point of capture, the Fatui had been long gone by that point. He’d noted the location for further investigation and broken any remaining traps for good measure, before taking off and attempting to track the group down. Fortunately, he had caught them before they’d slipped past the border (not that that would have stopped him, Buer’s warnings about diplomatic relations notwithstanding) and made quick work of them, knocking them out cold and leaving several with what he hoped would be extremely painful broken bones.

The young man he rescued from their ‘nefarious clutches’ - as described by said youth - was barely of age to qualify as an adult by Fatui standards, which meant he’d had to deal with an awestruck and starry eyed teenager for the rest of the evening. He’d been damn near ready to stab his own ears for a measure of peace by the time he scraped the clingy kid off and into the hands of a forest ranger patrol that promised to get him back to civilization.

All that was to say that he was already on edge when he opened the front door and found the most irritating samurai known to man waiting for him with the traveler.

“Haru,” said the tolerable one with a bright smile and a raised hand. “Kazuha has your verdict. Before you ask, it’s favorable.”

“Here, cousin,” said the less-tolerable one, holding out a heavy official envelope with gilt trim and a thick wax seal in the purple of the Electro Archon. “I’ve brought a public copy of your charging documents for you - the full transcripts and written testimonies have all been sealed under the highest classification possible, so do not worry for your more dangerous secrets.”

Kazeharu broke the seal with more force than was strictly necessary, taking great pleasure in the way the imprinted mitsudomoe cracked and crumbled beneath his fingers. There were two sheafs of paper inside, and startlingly, his golden feather, polished to a proper shine and restrung on a new cord. He took the time to reattach it beneath his vision instead of thinking, feeling the weight of it tug at his mantle so familiarly. He’d been lying to himself when he’d pretended he hadn’t missed the thing. That done, he could put off reading the missives no longer.

His fingers trembled traitorously as he unfolded the thickest document.

By order of the Shogun:

Niwa Kazeharu, son of Niwa Hisahide and descendant of the Electro Archon and Raiden Shogun, Baal, may Her reign be eternal, is hereby charged with three hundred and twenty six counts of murder, six thousand two hundred and seventeen counts of manslaughter, two counts of intentional injury, seventy-eight counts of espionage, seventy-six counts of terrorism, eleven counts of sedition, and thirty-two counts of inveiglement as perpetrated within the bounds of Inazuma.

Leniency has been granted by request of the victims’ heirs and decree of the Almighty Shogun, due to the extenuating circumstances, and the offender’s cooperation, sincere remorse, and lineage. The offender will be supervised by the Honourable Traveler for the duration of the imposed sentence, and monitored during such times as it is necessary to set foot in the lands under Her protection by one Kaedehara Kazuha, or members of the Yashiro Commission as required. Should the terms of this agreement be broken, the stay of execution will be lifted and full punishment imposed once again.

The reparations demanded by the sovereign nation of Inazuma are as follows:

For a term of no less than one hundred years, counted only while actively pursuing these activities, no blade shall be forged nor smith trained for recompense in mora. Instead, all such monetary renumeration will be transferred as reparations to the living descendants of the victims. The offender is required to pass on his skills in the Isshin art to a new generation of bladesmiths, and preserve his father’s legacy and the legacy of his victims in so doing.

Any services rendered by the offender to the separate but subordinate entity of Watatsumi Island will not be counted towards this term, instead being considered reparations for the grief and destruction caused by said offender during the instigation and propagation of the incited civil war and distribution of harmful delusions, up to and including the value of six hundred million mora.

All known information regarding Fatui activities as related to the nation of Inazuma must be recorded and transferred to the Tenryou Commission immediately. Any falsehoods shared by the offender will immediately invalidate this agreement…

He scanned the rest of the document, skimming any terms and conditions not involving him - once, then twice, hardly believing that he was getting off so lightly. One hundred years, even nonconsecutively, was nothing.

When you have done all this, and the Isshin art flourishes once more beneath the blossoming sakura branches, then shall your penance be completed.

The list of signatures and seals under the document were extensive, but his focus remained on the largest, the first. His mother’s.

She hadn’t disowned him. Still claimed him as her descendant on the document. And she had officially recognized his father, going so far as to state Kazeharu was his son, and remove herself to the position of an ancestor, clearly not the person who raised him.

It was like she had in one single line acknowledged all the pain and grief she had caused him, admitted that she had wronged him, abandoned him, not even bothered to name him after bringing him to life without thought for what came next. It was validation, and hurt, and sorrow, all at once. Hurt that there was no apology. Sorrow, for what could have been if things were different. Validation, because even she knew she had failed him.

He unfolded the next document hastily, before the tears pricking at the corner of his eyes could spill over.

By order of the Shogun:

The Raiden Shogun hereby formally acknowledges the adoption of one Kazeharu, descendant through creation of the Electro Archon Herself, by one Hisahide of the Niwa clan. Let the documents be amended to reflect this truth, and let it be known that Kazeharu has the right to name himself a member of the Niwa clan as his father’s son.

Not only had she recognized his father, his name was now legally binding in Inazuma. The name he had chosen based on his memories of a forgotten past, used for months and months based only on the documents Buer had been so kind as to provide him, had been written into the genealogies of Inazuma’s clans as history. He wasn’t a ghost, anymore, remembered by only the traveler and their companions. He existed again, and there were records of him, now. Records in both nations, his birthplace and his adopted homeland, records of the place he’d been given by the kindness of the humans of Tatarasuna, and records of his new place with Buer in Sumeru. Records that showed his mother knew he existed, and yet still managed to care less for him than the little god across the ocean.

She would never name him, he realized. Never. This half-hearted acknowledgment was all he could ever expect from the woman, recognition of an identity that she had had nothing to do with.

He really was crying now, he realized, as Aether stood up and reached over to rescue the papers so they wouldn’t be damaged. “Haru…?” he said, tentatively reaching out the other hand in concern.

“She made the adoption official,” he said blankly, in the face of that concern. “He was always saying he would file the paperwork after things calmed down but he never - we never-”

He stopped, too many words in too many languages trapped in his throat, each of them clawing their way out with no regard for coherency.

“It doesn’t even change anything, because he was always my father. I don’t understand,” he said instead, his hands slowly curling into fists at his side. “Why now?”

“Haru-” he heard the traveler say from somewhere very far away. “Haru, are you alright?”

No, no he wasn’t alright. There was a hand on his shoulder, now, and he tried to focus on it, the weight and the pressure of the fingers that squeezed gently, offering comfort.

“I would’ve given anything for her attention, before,” he said, to the hand on his shoulder, “and you know what? I don’t - I don’t think I even care anymore. Now, when I don’t even care anymore she does this,” and his voice cracked from the strain. “What was the point? Why did I ever bother trying when as soon as I stopped she just - she just-”

“Why is she like this?” Words failed him, again, and his lips moved, but said nothing. He gritted his teeth and got out through his angry tears, “Buer gave me more in a single year than she ever did in my entire life-”

The hand pulled him in gently, tucking him against something warm, and solid; shifted to keep his back steady through his violent, shaking sobs, as another hand came up and cradled his head, flattening his hair and holding him close. It was soft, that touch on his skin, and filled with the genuine empathy of an alien who understood far too much.

“I’ve got you,” Aether’s voice murmured in his ear. “It’s okay to just let it all out.”

There wasn’t anything else he could do with the man’s arms around him, holding him so securely while he cried every tear he’d held back for four hundred years, save for let his hands creep up to clutch at that draping scarf.

He’d always hated crying. It had been what sealed his fate all those years ago, and he’d tried to avoid letting it determine his future ever again. But Buer hadn’t given up on him when he’d cried in her lap, and right now, in Aether’s embrace, he could feel the man’s surprising, impossible fondness. He hadn’t given up on their wayward wanderer either. Did that tip the balance, then? Two times out of three, he hadn’t been abandoned.

The universe would never be that kind, he couldn’t help but think.

If the universe won’t be kind, then I will, Aether’s voice whispered in his head, and he felt himself blush at the unexpectedly intense sincerity. Thank all the gods and Archons the man wouldn’t be able to see it with Kazeharu’s face buried in the other’s shoulder. His emotions were a shattered wreck right now; he’d have to file that reaction away in the back of his head to process later.

“I hate everything,” he said with a shuddering breath, voice still ragged from his tears.

“Even me?” the traveler said, with a smile in his voice.

“Especially you,” he said, with no bite to it. “You’re the one that didn’t let me die, asshole.”

“I continue to stand by that decision,” Aether said softly.

“I wish… I wish he could’ve seen this,” he whispered into the other man’s chest after a moment. “I wish he could have known that it would all turn out - not, not okay - that he could’ve known I would get his last message, despite everything. That the Doctor didn’t win, in the end.”

“I think he’d just be happy to know you’re alright, however it happened.”

“Here,” another gentle voice said, and he turned his head just slightly to see past the cloth of the scarf his face was buried in. Kaedehara was holding out a glass of water towards him. “When tears are shed, the body seeks water to restore balance.”

“I’m not human,” he said, with a touch of bitterness. “I don’t need it.”

“Need is not relevant to the matter at hand, cousin,” the samurai said with a tilt of his head, smiling. “Denying yourself the small comforts any physical body will desire - rest, and appreciation, and proper care, whatever forms those take - are only a type of self-imposed penance that will do nothing for your mind and soul, and can actively hinder other, more fruitful forms of reparation.”

He paused. That was a rather lengthy way to say that he couldn’t work on repaying his debts if he didn’t maintain himself. “Do you always talk like you’ve swallowed a poetry book, Kaedehara?” he said, conceding the point and reaching out to accept the glass and take a small sip.

There was a rueful smile and another tilt of the head in answer. “I do take pleasure in sharing words that accentuate the moments around us, in whatever form.”

“I’ll take that as a yes, then,” he said dryly, pulling away from the traveler to pretend he still had some dignity left, after breaking down crying like that. He regretted the loss of contact immediately, but he wouldn’t be able to tolerate just letting Aether hold him right in front of the samurai. He’d die of shame, first.

The water did help, surprisingly, cool on his abused throat and providing something simple to focus on for a moment.

“Was there anything else?” he asked, once he’d finished the glass and couldn’t pretend it was occupying his attention any longer. If not, he was going to retreat to his room upstairs and take his frustration out on a scathing rebuttal to some unsuspecting scholar’s flimsy and unfounded postulations.

“Heizou wished for me to inform you that he found a letter that specifically mentions your project delta,” Kazuha said with a short nod, pulling out a much plainer envelope this time, “and while he does not have enough material for a full report, he deemed that important enough to send a copy over immediately.”

That was important enough to put off his retreat for, and he accepted it. The letter in question contained a thorough rebuke of the former commissioner, detailing why and how exactly the apparent previous inquiry about Fatui projects had overstepped the bounds of their mutually beneficial agreement. What caught his attention, however, was one particular sentence near the middle.

With regards to project delta, all inquiries should be passed directly to the second harbinger, not sent through the post where any number of eyes could see things they shouldn’t. Remember that your services are merely useful, not essential, when it comes to our arrangement, and information can and will be cut off if necessary.

The second harbinger. Dottore. Project delta was Dottore’s. That narrowed the possibilities considerably. And that sinking suspicion in his chest was back. The only project of Dottore’s that had failed recently was him. That still didn’t explain how his failure would have prompted a switch to kidnapping people, but fortunately, the Akademiya under Azar had produced a mountain of reports and documentation during their secret collaboration that he could scour with a fine-toothed comb for even the tiniest hints.

Buer, he said, reaching out hurriedly, flooding his thoughts with urgency. I need to see every piece of evidence we have related to the false god project. Immediately.

Chapter Text

“You know that’s not how Irminsul works. As a former god of wisdom, you know this,” she says, reaching up to cradle his face so, so gently. Like this, it was impossible to ignore the certainty she carried in her mind as she spoke. “The facts we have are indisputable. The story of the world that people tell has been changed, but the reality has not. The fact that your true history could be so easily hidden within a simple dream of an allegorical story is proof that Irminsul is not all-powerful. It cannot make inferences from the information it contains. It is merely a living record, and it does not necessarily distinguish between the truth and a sincerely believed falsehood. A leaf is a leaf to it, whether brown or green.”

He brings his own hands up to hers, frowning angrily. “Why the hell does that matter? Even if it was just changing the story, it still could have changed it to a better one.”

“You didn’t ask it to create a better story,” she says, slowly, patiently, huge green eyes gazing compassionately into his forlorn blue ones. “You asked it to erase you.”

"Oh," he says, numbly.

His erasure from memory had had a startling effect on the records for the false god project. With no murderous puppet to placate, many things that had been concealed from him were detailed in plain sight, now. For one thing, the fact that he had not been intended to survive his ascension.

Kazeharu sifted through the stacks of schematics for designing a self-aware sort of puppet, based on the doctor’s segments, to take the place of the actual intended user and interface with the false god. This ‘puppet’ - clearly a placeholder for the now-missing Balladeer - would be a necessary step in imbuing the false god shell with the requisite divine knowledge capsules, because of the known accompanying insanity that came with that knowledge. No mere mortal could hope to comprehend that knowledge and survive unbroken, so it needed to be removed from the equation before the false god could be piloted as intended. Once installed, the interim puppet, functioning as the brain, would absorb the knowledge and the insanity both, and then the knowledge would be stored in the connected Shouki no Kami. Then, when the filtration was complete, the now insane stand-in mind could simply be disconnected and disposed of, leaving the false god shell free to be inhabited by another… 

He’d known he’d been betrayed, but seeing the true depth of it made his artificial blood boil. Dottore’s honeyed lies about the Fatui assisting his ascension were meant only to stop him from leaving the organization altogether with the gnosis like he’d originally intended. The deception would have been planned long before; his attempt to distance himself foreseen and countered. It was not a spur of the moment decision, to design a filtration device using a puppet with a consciousness that would leave him broken, insane, and slated for death. 

The Tsaritsa had to have known. She would have had to personally approve something that would put one of her deadliest harbingers out of commission permanently. Which meant the true heart of the Shouki no Kami had to have been intended to be her from the very beginning. There was no other conclusion.

He’d been the necessary sacrifice mentioned in that first letter.

His skin crawled, thinking about what could have happened. He’d been so, so lucky that the traveler had moved early. Luckier than he’d known. They’d have begun infusing the divine knowledge capsules the very next day. If he’d ever had any doubts about his defection, they’d been burned to ash by this revelation. He’d been discarded before he had even failed. One way or the other, his usefulness to the Fatui had ended.

No, this simply meant the Tsaritsa had joined the Doctor on his very short list of people that he would do anything to take down. His revenge would be both ruthless and remorseless, and there would be no stopping the inevitable, no matter how long it took for it to finally arrive.

What concerned him now, though, was that the wording of that first letter hadn’t changed with his erasure. The only reason it wouldn’t have changed would be that he hadn’t been the only one meant by sacrifice. He’d already ruled out Signora; her death was merely a consequence of her own hubris. It couldn’t be the Director - he wouldn’t sacrifice himself, nor did he have anything unusual in his cursed immortality that could be utilized to create or power a deity. Dottore was managing the project himself, thus he couldn’t be the intended target - though his segments, on the other hand, were all fair game, considering he’d sacrificed them all for the return of the electro gnosis. From what he knew, though, every instance of Dottore was in some way mentally connected to the others, so it would be highly probable that one Dottore going (more) insane would infect all of the others, too. Unlikely, at best.

That left seven other possibilities.

Sandrone’s automatons would fall into the same mechanical category as the failed project; the seventh’s input would not be wanted for this next phase if they were taking a new direction. Pulcinella was only one rank higher than Kazeharu had been, but his mastery of strategy and subterfuge would be too important to discard now. Columbina was the Fatui’s Angel of Death, nearly as strong as the Tsaritsa herself. Not only would the third’s chilling strength be more useful if retained, she would never agree to her own sacrifice in the first place, and forcing her would be impossible.

Capitano, now, being overly concerned with fairness and justice, would be the only harbinger Kazeharu could imagine knowingly agreeing to his own sacrifice - but there was nothing about the first that would provide any unique insight into the workings of deities and otherworldly powers. Similarly, the ninth didn’t even possess a vision of his own, making him even less desirable for the study of elemental power (not to mention Pantalone had his hands in the pockets of every banker and businessman from Snezhnaya to Mondstadt and thus controlled many of their strings).

Arlecchino and Tartaglia, then. The fourth and the eleventh. Both rabid dogs, with a veneer of civilization. Neither brought anything to the table that couldn’t be handled by someone else, were they to suddenly disappear, and on top of that the fourth wasn’t anything special. Tartaglia, though…

Childe was only partially human, with that abyss essence lurking inside him. And while Kazeharu’d always maintained that the man never should have been lifted to the rank of harbinger, being barely strong enough to qualify - if his promotion had been not for his strength, but for his possible utility in experimentation later, it suddenly made a lot more sense. Pulcinella even had the man’s family ‘generously’ supported by his own men and mora, ensuring that they could be used as hostages at a moment’s notice.

He remembered the boy, the miniature Childe he’d seen in Liyue that had his older brother wrapped around his finger. Teucer. The level of fondness he’d seen there was hard to express in words - no, wait. It was simple. 

The boy was Childe’s Paimon. 

Exactly that, except this one had no pocket dimension to escape to when things got rough. Used as a hostage, the eleventh would certainly do damn near anything for the kid, up to and including sacrificing himself for science.

And oh, the abyss had so many interesting interactions with elemental power for Dottore to experiment on…

The Shouki no Kami had been designed to manipulate all of the elements, not just the electro provided by his gnosis. Each of the four arms had had the ability to channel one different element, and the last two had been intended to be channeled through his legs, though they had not been fully operable at the time of the battle with the traveler. Considering the Tsaritsa was collecting the seven gnoses, if she was intended to be the heart it only seemed logical that they had been intended to be placed in the matching limbs of the false god construct, essentially providing her with omnipotence equivalent to that of Celestia when she used it. That lined up far too well with the stated goal of the Grand Plan being to challenge Celestia itself.

According to the project delta announcement he’d recovered, all personnel were to switch from acquiring minerals (obviously materials for the false god shell) to experimental subjects. Following that thought to its logical conclusion, instead of placing the gnoses within a mechanical outer shell that they’d now decided was too vulnerable, they’d be trying to place them internally somehow - within living beings that were not initially attuned to the gnosis in question to see if they could change that, perhaps. Whether or not the abyssal powers Tartaglia possessed would help with that at all, he had no idea, but the fact remained that with the evidence he was looking at, the eleventh was likely to be called back to the homeland for just that clarification, with or without threat of hostages.

Kazeharu might not like the man, but his family had done nothing other than possess the great misfortune to be related to him. And if he could do anything to prevent the death of another child… (his thoughts turned again to the small, frail body of his son, lying in that pile of leaves, so cold, so still-) …he would.

He had to warn Tartaglia. And to do so, he’d probably have to reveal more of his inside knowledge than he’d prefer. 

So be it.

The papers on his desk were easily restacked and shoved to the side, knocking off his hat, as he made space for a blank page. He selected it carefully, choosing a nondescript, undyed weave that couldn’t be traced back to anywhere in specific. The ink, too, he chose carefully - nothing with any extra additions like scent or color, no unique ingredients to tie it to something other than this particular message. The contents were a little harder to determine - how to get the warning across without sounding like a threat, or a baseless accusation? Eventually, he decided to just bluntly list the problems he saw, and hope that would be enough.

His cleanest handwriting was, fortunately, a nearly exact mechanical reproduction of the letters in question, meaning that it would both be readable, untraceable, and nearly indistinguishable from the mass-produced orders the Fatui used themselves.

Tartaglia -

Be cautious. Pulcinella may have sponsored you, but his generosity is a conditional gift. He holds your family’s lives in his hands, and if he withdraws them they will fall. It is for their sake only that I am writing to you. Your questionable presence in the ranks of the harbingers, even as the lowest, has confounded me for a long time - but I think now, on seeing the evidence, that they may have raised you so high merely to keep you in hand for easy access. 

The Fatui will not hesitate to sacrifice even their harbingers for their goals - you need look only to Signora for the evidence of that. All those studies of the abyss Pierro has performed - yes, I know all about them - are likely precursors to the study of you and your abyssal powers specifically.

I don’t give a damn about you personally, but I’m not interested in seeing children get hurt. Little kids deserve better. I know you feel the same. Figure something out before it’s too late for them.

He paused. Should he sign it? He wasn’t about to put his name to the paper, but an unsigned message didn’t necessarily encourage belief in the contents. But with his past erased, he couldn’t sign it as a former harbinger, not without bringing a manhunt down on his head as the incongruity was investigated. His titles were similarly lost to the void, and he wasn’t about to implicate Sumeru in any fashion. Buer had enough problems as it was.

Eventually he settled on a rather generic phrase.

-a former colleague

Hopefully the implication of former Fatui membership, without the specificity of what his position had been, would be enough. As far as he knew, Aether still sparred with the eleventh on occasion - with him as the go-between, he could also vouch for the message’s authenticity. Whether that would be enough to get the man to believe it wasn’t his problem, but Tartaglia’s. 

More pressing, now, was confirming his hunch that the plan for the false god had been as an outer shell for the Tsaritsa, a set of battle armor to allow the cryo Archon to wield all the elements in addition to hers. If that was the end goal of retrieving the gnoses, then they’d have planned for the Shouki no Kami to be able to utilize more than just the electro gnosis as its heart. Replace it with the cryo gnosis, link the Tsaritsa to it, and you’d have the cryo Archon magnified a thousand times, with the added bonus of the other elements at her beck and call. (It was also likely that they’d have redone the trappings and frills to reflect cryo instead of - no, that was useless speculation.)

Somewhere in this massive pile of notes and blueprints were the clues he was looking for. And it was extremely likely that he, with his inside knowledge, was the only person who would recognize the significance of whatever they ended up being. After all, the Akademiya’s best scholars had already gone through all these notes long before, and not one had been able to make the connection between the gnosis plan and the false god construct, even with it all laid out in plain black and white for anyone to see. That meant he’d have to read every page himself…

A knock on his door interrupted his thoughts.

“What,” he said, not looking up from the disastrously complicated mess sitting in front of him.

The door opened a crack, and Aether’s head poked in, wearing a concerned expression and holding a cup of tea.

“It’s morning,” he said. “And you’re not at the forge. Were you looking at those all night?”

Kazeharu leaned his elbows on the desk and ran his hands through his hair, letting out all his frustration in one slow, deliberate sigh.

“I was right,” was all he said in reply. “Project delta is the unclassified code name for the Omni Agenda.”

After a moment, he added, with extra venom in his voice, “And on that note, the Tsaritsa can rot in the abyss forever, as far as I’m concerned.”

The other man let out a wry hum, entering the room proper to continue the conversation, shutting the door behind him. “Bad?”

“You have no idea. It’s so fucking obvious I don’t know how I didn’t see it before - oh, but of course, I still thought I was supposed to live through the twice-damned experiment, not go completely insane and be dumped like garbage.”

“Ooo,” the traveler said with a grimace, walking over to examine the notes. “That’s bad bad, alright.”

“I was just a placeholder,” he said quietly, trying to keep his composure. “Once they’d infused the divine knowledge I’d have been ripped out of the machine and at best abandoned, again.”

Aether was silent for a long moment, regarding the distraught puppet with something like sympathy. What was there to say to that?

“Hug?” he asked eventually, tentatively opening the arm not carrying the teacup.

The wanderer blinked at him in surprise. He still hadn’t taken the time to process yesterday’s events, but he had to admit to himself that he’d felt a lot better afterward. Maybe it would also apply to this strange twisting nausea he felt on thinking of the Tsaritsa’s plans.

“Yeah,” Kazeharu sighed, shuffling to the edge of his chair, leaning into the other man’s side and closing his eyes. The arm curled around him gently, holding him against that solid, comforting warmth again. 

“The Tsaritsa knew,” he murmured against the traveler’s skin, drinking in the reassuring feeling of genuine concern from the other’s mind as his shoulder was slowly rubbed. “She would have had to approve my death for the success of the project.”

The light rumble of the man’s voice reverberating through his body as he spoke was almost soothing in its gentle, unruffled calm. “One more reason for me to kick her ass, then.”

He had to huff out a laugh at that, cracking his eyes open to watch the other’s reaction to his next words. “If I’m right you might be the only one capable of kicking her ass by that point. The Omni Agenda has always been research into wielding multiple elements at the same time. Delusions, Visions, god remnants, all of it. The Shouki no Kami was supposed to be the culmination of that research. If it was intended to be piloted by her… looking at it now, I think she’s going to try to wield all seven gnoses at the same time.”

Aether stilled next to him, absorbing that statement. “Admittedly, I’m not exactly well-versed on the mechanics of power here in Teyvat, but I was under the impression that that would be impossible?”

“Under normal circumstances, yes, but…” He shook his head as best he could from his awkward position. Of the two of them, he was the expert. He had been an intended vessel for the electro gnosis and had spent centuries studying in preparation for acquiring it, and so he explained what he suspected. “Archons can wield only their native gnosis, naturally. Another gnosis is simply an extra source of energy for them, it doesn’t give them a second element - that’s how Buer was able to use mine to help purify Irminsul. But, knowing what I know of the project’s history, I’m certain now that delta - Omni - has always been devoted to finding a way to circumvent that. Successes like overriding Signora’s Pyro with Cryo and Tartaglia’s exceptional dual Hydro and Electro control were merely side benefits on the path towards the greater objective.”

The traveler set down his teacup on the desk with a thoughtful frown that Kazeharu could only barely see from his position nestled into the man’s side. “And you think it’ll work?”

“I had five elements, when you fought the Shouki no Kami,” he said, as Aether’s free hand busied itself smoothing and straightening the crumpled documents on the desk. “It was supposed to wield all seven, but was unfinished. If the Tsaritsa were in the cockpit, she’d have those elements as well - and with the gnoses installed in the shell and filtered through it before reaching her, I think it would have been the same, just on a much more powerful scale.”

“I thought the false god was designed specifically to interface with your systems in particular, not with just anyone,” the traveler said, a thread of worry worming its way through the concern the wanderer felt.

“Unfortunately for me,” he said with a disgruntled growl, gesturing at the notes on his desk, “I’m finding out a lot of the things I thought I knew about it were wrong. Sure, not just anybody would be able to connect to it, but for all I know those fucking tubes were only there to keep me from running off when I went insane.”

He gestured again, sharply. “I can’t imagine the Tsaritsa would submit herself to something that humiliating, or permanent - I’d just need to figure out what the other way was to prove it was possible, because all that preparation would have been useless otherwise.”

“You know,” the traveler said, quietly, “I’m not even sure that she’s got the wrong idea, fighting Celestia. With every new thing I learn about them, the more uneasy they make me. But the way she’s willing to trample over her own people in pursuit of that goal is… just as disturbing, really. I can’t say I like the thought of either of them in control.”

Kazeharu gave him a confident smirk. “Then you’ll just have to kick both their asses, won’t you?”

“You have a lot of faith in me,” Aether said, cocking an inquiring eyebrow, “for a simple traveler who hasn’t even attuned to all the elements yet.”

“You cut me down with only four elements, and now you have five,” he pointed out reasonably, then added, very quietly, “and you also came back for me, when no one else ever has.”

“Their loss; they have no idea what they’re missing,” the traveler said, smiling serenely.

“An asshole with a sharp tongue?” he said, dryly.

“That too,” Aether said with a cheeky grin, amusement flashing through him as he spoke.

He pulled back to squint suspiciously up at the man. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, you know,” he said, with an ambiguous hand wave that could have meant anything.

The wanderer rolled his eyes. “No, I don’t know, that’s why I’m asking, dumbass.”

“Well, for one,” the man started, actually counting on his fingers, “you’re also brilliant, and artistic, and rather good with your hands-”

That earned the traveler a hard smack to his arm. “If you keep saying stupid shit like that people are going to think you actually like me.”

It was Aether’s turn to roll his eyes. “You’re living in my house Haru, I’m pretty sure they already think that.”

“Irrelevant,” he said, with the calm voice of authority. “You can always make it worse.”

“You always have a witty response for everything, don’t you?” the blonde said, teasingly.

“It’s part of my imaginary charm.” His very imaginary charm, that did not exist.

“Along with your brilliance, artistic nature, and your skill with your hands-”

“I’ll use those ‘skilled hands’ of mine to shut you up permanently if you don’t quit it right now.”

“Heyyy,” Aether said, his face lighting up. “Was that a death threat? It was, wasn’t it? It’s been a while, you must be feeling better today.”

He blinked in confusion. “You’re… happy. That I threatened to kill you.”

“I mean yeah,” the other man said, looking enormously relieved, “you’ve been so horribly serious lately I thought you might crack. Like porcelain.”

Kazeharu gave him a long, silent, judgmental stare. “You,” he said, “are so fucking weird sometimes.”

“Join the club, Mr. Death Threats,” Aether said with a wink.

Oh, he did not just wink at him. “I’ll club you if you don’t shut up, little star.”

“Heh. Eloquent as ever,” the man said, looking inordinately pleased to have been threatened a second time already. Then he shook his head, returning to the matter at hand. “Okay, but seriously. This Omni Agenda thing. Did you want me to help look through all this?”

Kazeharu shook his own head, sitting back up and ignoring the flicker of disappointment in his stomach as the traveler let him go without complaint. “No, I’d have to recheck everything myself anyway, because I don’t know what all I know that could help pinpoint important things. I do, however, need to you deliver a warning to Tartaglia.” He picked the simple paper up off the desk and offered it to the traveler. “You still indulge the weakling with a fight every now and then, correct? We’ve talked about his family and the Rooster before. I think it’s a more imminent peril than I’d realized, and I doubt he understands how much danger they’re in.”

Aether frowned unhappily at the unassuming little slip of paper before he took it and dismissed it into his bag. “Do you want me to tell him who it’s from?”

“Absolutely not,” the wanderer said, jolting up out of his seat. That would be a disaster for everyone. “I just want you to tell him that I’m not making this shit up and I know what I’m talking about. No need to get into complicated explanations that might or might not end with a Snezhnayan death warrant out for my head. I already called myself a former colleague in the note, and that’s dangerous enough.”

“Fair enough,” the other man said with a nod. “We both know that leaving the Fatui is usually suicide, and he would too.”

“If he gets too nosy feel free to tell him to shove it up-”

They were interrupted by a small voice calling out from the other side of the house, “Traveler? Are you there?”

“Oh no,” Aether said, eyes wide, one hand jumping to his mouth in dismay. “I forgot to make her breakfast.”

The voice slid higher up the scale, almost on the verge of panic. “Anybody? Aether???”

“I’m right here Paimon,” the blonde called hastily, running to the door and pulling it open so he could lean over the balcony railing and catch her attention. “I was just talking with Haru, don’t worry.”

“Everything was quiet and there was no food or anything,” the puppet heard her say with a relieved wail. “Paimon thought everyone was gone!”

“No, no no,” he heard the traveler reassure the little menace, his steps fading as he made his way towards the stairs. “We’re all here, I wasn’t watching the time is all. What would you like for breakfast today, miss moonlet…?”

Pancakes, of course, thought Kazeharu. She loved her pancakes.

Chapter Text

“Don’t be angry with yourself,” she murmurs softly, before he can break down in her arms again. “Even had you known what you truly wished to ask for, the result would still be the same. The pretty fantasy you would weave for the world would shatter when the cloak over the reality tore. And it would. The Traveler might be the only one to truly remember you, but we both know he was not the only one to preserve information from that past. Who knows how many more are privy to the changing nature of history?”

He takes a ragged, shaky breath. He can’t think about this any more right now. “I’m not doing this again, Buer.”

“No one here will condemn you for your tears, my wayward wanderer,” she says with a gentle smile, pulling away from his face, leaving faint impressions of warmth on his inhumanly cool cheeks. “Should you desire a shoulder to cry on, mine will always be available for you.”

“You would not believe the trouble I have had since we last sparred, comrade,” the ginger-haired harbinger complained as they walked along the path above the harbor.

“Oh, really?” Aether said with a laugh. “I can’t imagine you’ve been able to pull off much real trouble with Zhongli keeping you company.”

Childe threw up his hands in frustration. “You say that as if I was the one causing the trouble! No, Teucer managed to sneak out again, and I only found out when he ran giggling into my office at the bank!”

“Wait, seriously?” the traveler said, covering a snort. “All the way back to Liyue, again? I thought they’d have been ready for his tricks a second time.”

“I have no idea how he pulled it off, and my parents are going to blame me for being a bad influence again. It’s not my fault he’s a little rascal!”

Normally he’d have heard about something like that, from Zhongli or one of his other Liyuean friends, if not from Childe himself. “When was this?”

“A couple of months ago? Don’t remember exactly. It was when that fancy looking Sumeran Dignitary was in town, the one that looked like he should’ve been working for Inazuma instead.”

“Ah,” Aether said eloquently. He knew who that had to be. “I see.”

“Don’t give me that ‘I see’ bullshit, comrade, I pulled some strings after I met him and I know he’s been named to the same position as yourself in Sumeru, except his position doesn’t seem to be honorary - he’s actually working there full time, unlike you. You have to know him!”

“Why are you interested, anyway?” He needed to deflect Childe’s attention, for Haru’s sake. “You work in Liyue.”

“You don’t understand, Iviathe.” The harbinger was practically whining. “The way that man walks you just know he has extensive combat experience. I could see it in his eyes when we talked, even if he cut things short. He was watching everything like a hawk, and his balance was superb!” His arms were gesticulating wildly in enthusiasm as he grew more excited. “And he has an anemo vision, anemo users can do the craziest stuff. He’d be amazing in a fight, I just know it!” 

Aether huffed out a laugh. He was, in fact, amazing in a fight.

Childe’s face grew suspicious at that. “Wait, wait… don’t tell me you’ve already fought him?”

He didn’t see a reason to lie about it. “More than once, actually.” Best not to mention the details of those first few fights though. “If I’m being honest, he could probably beat you without breaking a sweat.”

“Sweet Celestia above.” Childe clasped his hands in rapturous prayer. “Now I’ve gotta fight him. I wouldn’t mind losing if it was a good battle, you know how amped up I get, comrade! You’ve gotta introduce me sometime.”

“He’s… not a big fan of meeting people, actually.” That was an understatement, not counting the fact Haru already knew he didn’t like the other harbinger. “He probably won’t be interested.”

“But you can at least ask him, right?” He danced backward along the path, letting out playful little jabs towards Aether’s face. “C’mon, c’mon, do it for your buddy, your pal, your good friend Childe.”

“I guess I can think about it,” he conceded with a sigh. Haru didn’t need to actually consider it seriously. “Just letting you know in advance it probably won’t happen. But anyway,” he said, taking the opportunity to change the topic, “tell me more about Teucer’s latest escapade.”

“Archons, the things that boy puts me through,” the other man said with a groan. “You weren’t there this time, but Zhongli-xiansheng offered to help - and he was worse at keeping him out of my work than you were! At least it was all just some simple debt collections, not training recruits or other subordinates who might not know and spill my secrets.”

Aether quirked a judgmental eyebrow at the other man. “You still haven’t told him you’re not a toy salesman?”

“L-look, he just gets… so excited about it when I talk to him that I can’t do it! I can’t make that cute little face sad.”

“He’s not going to be eight forever, Childe,” the blonde said.

“I know, I know…” the harbinger said, wearing his most pitiful puppy dog eyes. That trick wouldn’t work on the traveler, unfortunately.

“I think it would be better he find out from you than from someone else, is all,” he pointed out calmly.

“Yeah, I know,” Childe said, with a rueful smile. “Spare me the lecture, please, I’ve heard it all before.”

“Speaking of family, I have a message for you. Before you ask, no I can’t tell you who from, and I suspect you’ll know why when you read it.”

Childe scanned the paper quietly, taking it in without any expression at all.

When he lifted his head, there was a bit of a cruel glint in his eyes. “A former comrade, eh? You know what we’re supposed to do about those, don’t you?”

“Which is exactly why I’m here instead,” Aether said, very reasonably. “The person in question felt it was important enough to give away their existence, so I hope you take it seriously and don’t just try to sniff them out.”

“Well, not to burst your bubble,” the harbinger said, “but we’ve had our suspicions for some time now that there was an information leak somewhere and we were already ‘sniffing about’ as you put it. The intel our opponents have had on us has grown uncomfortably accurate, lately, and it was pretty obvious someone had made a new friend somewhere.”

He twirled a hydro dagger in his hand as it formed, continuing brightly. “I suppose I can at least inform the Director we don’t have any new moles to thank for it. Can’t stop them for looking for your surprisingly selfless little friend though - if they’re actually concerned like they say and it’s not a ruse. They must’ve faked their death somehow, that’s usually how they get away.”

“Oh, trust me,” the traveler said dryly, “they hated doing this, especially for you. They had family once too, though. That’s all I’m allowed to say about it.”

“Hm,” was all Childe said to that, tossing the watery dagger from hand to hand, then adding a second to the rotation, juggling them back and forth gracefully.

“You believe them?” he asked, eventually. “You’re delivering the note, after all.”

“They are an incredibly distrustful, even paranoid person, but they’re also extraordinarily intelligent, and I believe that they truly believe what they wrote. I know how they get about kids dying.” It was one of the few times Haru would admit he actually cared about something.

“And so they wrote they think Teucer is in danger, and Anthon and Tonia, and probably everyone else too, from Pulcinella, of all people. They love Pulci, he’s always bringing them gifts.”

That right there was the problem, really. He trusted that because they were on the same side, they wouldn’t be actively malevolent towards him if his usefulness changed. “Would it really surprise you if a harbinger had ulterior motives?”

“Comrade, I am a harbinger. Of course not,” he said with a snort. “Hell, Dottore’s been after me for research samples from day one, so I can’t say I’m surprised he’d want to study me. I just don’t see what any of that has to do with my little treasures. I’d never disobey an order from the Tsaritsa, so there’d be no reason for them to do anything to the kiddos. You sure this former comrade isn’t just jealous of me?”

Aether couldn’t hold back an incredulous laugh at that. Haru, jealous of Childe? If anything, he spoke of the man like an annoying younger brother (at best). Still wheezing, wiping tears from his eyes, he managed to get out, “No, I really, really don’t think that’s it.”

He regained his composure enough to clear his throat with a cough, before attempting to explain it in very simple terms for the man. “It boils down to this: they’re little kids, and if people wanted to double or triple guarantee your cooperation, they’d be prime targets. A little extra precaution wouldn’t hurt. Say you’re already cooperating and they get scooped up anyway by accident - even if none of them gets harmed a scratch, that’s still going to be a horrible experience for them.”

Childe made a frustrated noise, a near growl. “I wouldn’t let that happen. Anyone hurts them, or even scares them, they answer to me.”

“And if you’re incapacitated?” Aether asked quietly. “Not capable of protecting them?”

“Then I’d trust you to finish the job for me, comrade,” the harbinger said with a dark gaze and manic grin, stepping back and spinning the hilts of his water daggers back into the palms of his hands as he settled into a crouch. “Come on, enough with the depressing talk, just fight me. That’s why we’re here, isn’t it?”

Afterward, when Childe had been knocked flat on his back a few times and had lost most of that nervous energy he’d been so full of, he admitted that he’d meant that. Being the harbingers vanguard put him directly on the front lines more often than not. He could die at any time, and while his siblings wouldn’t be left orphaned, Snezhnaya was a cold and unforgiving place, and his salary supported the majority of the household. It was something he’d thought about a great deal before.

“I won’t be around forever. It’s inevitable, in my line of work,” the man said with a sigh. “The family’s big, and three little kids can get lost in the everyday shuffle of work and money and adult things - I’d know. I just want to make sure somebody remembers they’re there, you know? That somebody will worry about their problems and their dreams too. Loneliness is so much worse when you’re still surrounded by people that ought to care.”

Aether made a wordless noise of agreement, thinking of being a traveler in a strange land speaking a strange language, and watching his only sibling turn away from him.

“I’m not asking you to adopt them or anything if shit goes down - not that my parents would let that happen, they’re not that oblivious - but I know you wouldn’t mind making sure they’re safe afterward. As long as they’re safe and happy, that’s all I want.”

“Why not ask Zhongli?” Aether asked curiously, knowing that the former archon would adopt the children himself in a heartbeat. He tended to do that with people he grew fond of, especially mortals. (Exhibit A: Childe, sitting right next to him. Exhibit B: Xiao.)

“And ask the man to leave his beloved Liyue? I wouldn’t do that,” the harbinger said, placing a hand on his chest in mock dismay at the suggestion. “It has to be you, comrade.”

Fair enough. “Do you really have so few people you would trust with this?”

“Yes,” Childe said simply, without looking at the traveler.

“I don’t know if he’ll do anything,” Aether told Haru, when he got back to the teapot. “He seems convinced that even if you’re right and they want to experiment on him, that if he just obeys the Tsaritsa’s orders like a good dog, they’ll be just fine.”

“Not… unexpected, unfortunately,” the wanderer muttered, biting his thumb in thought. “He still believes in her, and I can’t exactly explain how I’m certain that she wouldn’t be doing it expecting him to make it out in one piece. If she doesn’t care enough about him not to throw him under the cartwheels, she won’t give two ounces of thought to those kids.”

The traveler offered a helpless shrug. “He did say that if anything happened to him, he wanted me to take care of them. So, I guess there’s that at least?”

The puppet sat up straight at that, pure horror on his face. “This house does not need three more children. Paimon is loud enough.”

“At that point, I think we’d need another house anyway,” the blonde said. “There’s only one spare room now, you know.”

“Well, hopefully it doesn’t come to that,” Haru grumbled. “I don’t think my ears could handle it. Did he say anything else?”

“Aside from the fact they’d already realized someone new was leaking information?” Aether asked with a pointed look. “He told me he’d seen you when you were in Liyue, actually. He wanted to know if he could meet you properly. Not you, the former Fatuus, but you the Sage.”

“What? Why?” The puppet seemed completely taken aback by the suggestion. “We met for all of ten seconds.”

“Ten seconds was enough for him to decide he wanted to fight you,” the traveler said, trying to hide his amused smile. “He kept going on and on about your amazing balance and predatory gaze.”

“Typical Childe,” Kazeharu groaned in dismay, slumping back in his chair. “I knew I should’ve tried harder to avoid him. His stupid brother said he liked my hat and I had to sit there and pretend I didn’t know the man.”

“Wait,” Aether said, eyebrows rising as he processed that. “You specifically sent a note asking Childe to protect the little kid who told you he liked your hat?”

The wanderer’s head whipped around so fast at that his hair blurred. His eyes were completely shocked, as if that interpretation hadn’t occurred to him. “What - no! I certainly did not do anything of the sort, I merely mentioned that his siblings might be in danger and it had nothing to do with having met one.”

Conscious decision or not, it was rather sweet of him. “Aw, that’s actually kind of cute, Haru, you don’t need to deny it.”

“Aether,” he hissed, offended. His nostrils flared as he glared angrily.

“Woah, woah,” the blonde held up his hands defensively, “I didn’t say you were cute, I said that was cute. There’s a difference.”

“Semantics,” the puppet snarled, “and you know it, Traveler.”

“Oh no, we’re back to titles now? I’m hurt, Wanderer.”

“Suffer, then. You deserve it after that hideous comparison, worm.”

“At least I’m a cute worm.”

“Ugghhhh,” Haru said with an exaggerated shudder, making a face like he’d just swallowed something incredibly unpleasant. “Worms are not cute. You are not cute. This conversation is over, goodbye and good riddance. I have swords to make.”

Aether’s helpless laughter followed his stomping footsteps out the door.

Paimon was already at Kazeharu’s forge for some reason, when he got there. “You,” he said flatly, and she guiltily dropped the latest test blade he’d finished. “Don’t touch those.”

“Paimon was just looking,” she said with a tiny whine, as he slipped off his haori and laid it aside to protect it. “They’re all too big for Paimon, anyway.”

“I don’t know why you’re surprised. Nobody makes swords for floating pests,” he said, selecting his current project from the rack and holding it in the fire to heat.

“Well, Paimon thinks Wanderer should make her a sword,” the sprite said, hovering over his shoulder and watching his every move.

“I already said no once. Answer’s still no,” he said as he waited for the metal to reach the proper cherry-red glow, turning it slowly and evenly. “Not gonna happen, pipsqueak.”

He nearly dropped the thing instead of lying it on the anvil when she said slyly, “What if Paimon tells Aether about you snuggling your birthday plushie?”

“You wouldn’t dare-” he started, dismayed, then caught himself, raising his chin haughtily and lifting his hammer to work the glowing sword blade. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I haven’t ever done that.”

“Paimon saawww you,” she said, with a smug little smile, leaning in to emphasize how gleeful the blackmail she’d found made her.

Archons preserve him from tiny manipulative terrors.

“Saw what, twerp, yourself in a mirror?”

“Paimon has a little pictuure,” she sang sweetly, eyeing him even more smugly over the indisputable proof in her hands that Kazeharu had, in fact, hugged the stuffed aranara a total of once (once).

“Give me that,” he snarled, swiping it from her hands and shoving it under the nearest box. She just giggled at him.

“Paimon has more copies, you know,” she said in that same singsong tone of voice.

“Do you even know how to use a sword?” the puppet asked grumpily, stalling for time.

“Paimon sees the Traveler use his all the time!” she said proudly, hands on her hips.

“That doesn’t count,” he said, with an impatient swat at her hovering form. “If you don’t know how to use it then you could hurt yourself, and if you hurt yourself with a sword I gave you, Aether would kill both of us.”

“Paimon would be careful…” the sprite said with a doe-eyed pout. That might work on their mutual friend, but it wouldn’t work on Kazeharu, and he simply gave her a flat glare.

“I’ve seen the way you eat with your chopsticks, Paimon.”

“…FINE, If Paimon promises to learn, would you make her a sword then?”

He scowled at her over his shoulder. “Why do you want one so bad, anyway?”

“Paimon wants to stab things that try to hurt Aether when he’s not looking!”

Tch. Honestly not the worst reason, if he was being fair. And if she could learn to weave that dimensional shift thing she did into it, she’d be pretty dangerous even against an opponent with a longer reach. And that would also be one less reason for him to worry about Aether having his own lapse of judgment all alone in the middle of a fight when Kazeharu was busy… 

“How about this, then,” he said, flipping the hammer in his hand to point the nonthreatening handle part at her in an offer of compromise. “I teach you to use a sword first, and if you can show me you won’t hurt yourself with a real one, then I’ll make you a proper sword.”

He wouldn’t be surprised if she lost interest before it got to that point. And if she didn’t, Aether wouldn’t kill him for letting her run around with something sharp not knowing how to use it. A perfect solution all round, he had to say. Except for the fact that he’d have to spend an excessive amount of time with the little menace, and wouldn’t be able to just ignore her either.

Her little face twisted up in thought as she pondered the offer. “Fine,” she declared with a huff. “Paimon isn’t going to get hurt like Haru did being stupid, so Paimon has to learn somehow anyway.”

“Hey!” he objected with an offended glare. “That was one time!” Yes, true, he still felt the occasional spark of temptation, but it had been less strong, afterward, remembering Aether’s disappointment - and also because now he needed to be there to give the other man his own disappointed look if necessary. (Just because it hadn’t been necessary yet didn’t mean it wouldn’t be some day, and he had to be prepared.)

She rolled her eyes at him. “Yeah, the one time you weren’t using shields because you’re stupid.”

“I take it all back, I’m not teaching you shit,” he said, giving his project an excessively vicious hammer blow to emphasize. “Go pester Aether about it.”

“Aether won’t teach me either! He says I’m still too small, and besides, I still have my picture,” she said, flaunting another copy of the same photo.

“Seriously?” He snatched that one too, shoving it under the same box as the first. He’d burn them in the forge the first chance he got. “You’re a horrible gremlin and the world would be less safe with you running around with a weapon.”

“Paimon is a loveable, knowledgeable, and gracious guide,” she said with a haughty sniff, “and having a weapon would mean she could protect her charges too.”

“Loveable my synthetic puppet ass,” he snarled. “You’re a manipulative little brat with blackmail.”

“Hee hee, but you’re so adorable all curled up with your-”

“I’ll kill you,” he said flatly, before she could finish.

“But then Aether would cry,” she said with a big-eyed pout.

He clicked his tongue in defeat, then made a horrible face at her. He didn’t have to be nice about it, at least. In fact, there was nothing stopping him from making her teaching sessions more hellish than the abyss. Except maybe that he would feel a little better if the pipsqueak could actually guard Aether’s back too instead of just following him around, so it’d be good if she really learned something.

…maybe he could teach her stealth while he was at it. Or at least how to shut her mouth once in a while.

Chapter Text

His hands clench about her wrists. “I’m not a good person, Buer. Murderers don’t deserve the right to cry into their bloodied hands when things get a little rough.”

“Everyone deserves the right to their sorrow,” she says, so trusting, so unafraid in the grasp of a man who had tried to kill her. “As much as you think you are unredeemable, you are not. The depths of your grief simply shows your capacity for love.”

“Dammit, Buer,” is all he can think to say to that, and she smiles at him.

Their latest sparring session had ended in another draw. Those had been happening more frequently of late, as Kazeharu grew more used to the traveler’s attack patterns and mindset. The man was definitely still stronger than him in terms of raw power - not to mention capable of fueling his own elemental reactions - but the wanderer was an immortal puppet, built to never tire and never falter. One of these days, he knew, he would finally be able to simply outlast the other man, wearing him down until he ran out of stamina. That was of course dependent on him not fucking up over the course of such a long fight - he would simply have to be perfect. No room for error allowed, there.

They’d managed to traverse the length of the domain in their back and forth battle today, and as they flew back they made lazy, looping spirals around each other, each daring the other to break the pattern and start the race to be first back. Aether pulled up, though, when the mansion came into view, pointing out the tiny form of the Kaedehara samurai sitting on the stoop with another blue haired and well-dressed Inazuman, clearly waiting for them. 

Hmm, he thought at the blonde, feeling a slight rising nervousness at the appearance of an unknown factor. More news? It hasn’t been long.

Perhaps, the traveler agreed. We should find out.

Game abandoned, they put on speed and swooped downward, halting in a rush of air that ruffled the grass and the hair of their waiting companions. “Welcome back, Master Viathe, Master Niwa,” Tubby said pleasantly, from inside the open doorway where it was entertaining Paimon with a complicated string puzzle wrapped around its wings. “You have guests.” The samurai quirked a curious eyebrow at the usage of Aether’s last name without the prefix, but merely raised a hand in greeting, while the other man, leaning against a pillar in a pristine white suit, clearly filed the statement away for thought with a brief flicker of his eyelids.

The traveler landed promptly, but Kazeharu was unwilling to return to the embrace of gravity just yet, so he hovered gently in the air as the man came forward to shake hands with what he now recognized was the current Yashiro Commissioner, and offer Kaedehara a welcoming hug. For some reason he felt the need to scowl, watching them, but it wasn’t as though there was anything wrong with the gesture, and he remained silent.

“I hadn’t realized you had learned to fly again,” the samurai said with a gentle smile. “I understand you missed it greatly.”

“It’s not the same without my wings,” Aether said with his own bashful smile, “but it’s close enough and I’m honestly glad Haru insisted on teaching me.”

“It was nothing,” he mumbled, watching them all glance towards him.

“I would not call such an awe-inspiring sight nothing, cousin,” the samurai said, eyes brightening with delight. “In fact, I have some thoughts to share about it should you be interested in hearing them.”

Aether gestured for the man to continue, looking eager to hear whatever it was.

“Crowned with wind and stars,” Kaedehara began, eyes half-closing as he spoke, remembering.
“dancing amongst the heavens;
twin gods soar unbound.”

“I should have known he wouldn’t just talk like a poetry book but write actual poetry too,” Kazeharu grumbled to himself, pointedly not looking at the source of his sudden embarrassment. “Also, I’m not a god.”

“Neither am I, I’m afraid,” Aether said with a half smile, “but it is a beautiful haiku, Kaz.”

“Perhaps not technically gods,” the samurai said, opening his eyes again and offering a conceding tilt of his head, “but I believe it accurately conveys the sentiment I was feeling when you approached. A beautiful haiku, and a beautiful sentiment, for a pair of beautiful divinities.”

The wanderer felt himself flush. The other Inazuman had no right to look so sincere when passing out ridiculous compliments like that to someone like him. The traveler too, was looking a little pink and a little too pleased by the praise, and raised his hands to fend off further compliments, with a laughing, “Enough, enough, Kaz, Haru will combust if you flatter him too much.”

“I’ll refrain from teasing him, then,” Kaedehara said with a knowing smile at both of them, before switching the subject. “If you’re wondering why we’re here, Ayato has received word from several interested parties about training in the Isshin Arts.”

The commissioner nodded courteously, face studiously impassive, and continued, “Thus prompting us to see if Master Niwa would accommodate us by moving up the date of the land selection for the forge, that we may break ground as soon as possible. It would be excellent to capitalize on such enthusiasm while it is available.”

Ah.

They wanted him to return to Inazuma. 

He’d been dreading this part, and had initially put it off for as long as they’d been willing to let him. But the commissioner was right - it would be better to seize on any interest from the public for an undertaking like this. Feelings be damned, the more quickly they got this all started, the more quickly he could begin actually serving his penance.

“Fine,” he said, landing and summoning his hat back into place on his head, tugging the brim down to hide his sudden nerves. “I have nothing urgent scheduled today, Kamisato-san, if you would prefer to get it done immediately.”

“That would be ideal,” the other man said, with a nod of that carefully neutral face, graced with a small, meaningless smile.

“Then let’s go.” He gestured for them to get on with it, ignoring the twisting pit in his stomach and reminding himself that the sooner they got it over with, the sooner he could leave. “I am attuned to the waypoint nearest the Kamisato estate, assuming that we’re starting there.”

“We are indeed,” the commissioner said, and with a polite bow towards the traveler, who raised a hand in farewell, he vanished. One waypoint, even that far away, wouldn’t tire anyone that much - if the commissioner hadn’t simply entered the teapot from the area in the first place.

“We’ll await you there, cousin,” Kaedehara said with a bow of his own. “Good to see you, Traveler.”

“You too, Kaz,” Aether said with another wave as the man vanished. He turned to the wanderer, now, and said, “You can do it, Haru,” with an encouraging squeeze to his arm. “I’m sure you’ll pick a great place.”

“As long as they don’t make me go anywhere near the shrine,” he muttered, shuddering. “I am not in the mood to deal with that fox right now.”

“All the more reason to go now and help pick a spot that’s nowhere near the stairs up the mountain,” Aether pointed out, an amused grin on his face. “She’s lazy enough not to go out of her way to harass people if it’s not important.”

“Yes,” Kazeharu said thoughtfully, a hand rising to his chin. “Yes, you’re right. I’ll take the opportunity to make sure we’re located elsewhere.”

“Good luck then,” the traveler said as he left, eyes glinting with enthusiasm the last thing he saw before the scenery shifted. “Go get ‘em, forge master.”

It quickly became clear that the commissioner didn’t trust him at all. Fair enough, he supposed, considering all he’d done, but it was still somewhat irritating that the man was always hovering, refusing to let him out of his sight. That, of course, did nothing to ease his own internal discomfort at having returned to his mother’s lands. Kaedehara, at least, was courteous enough to pretend not to be a guard, and they spent quite some time debating the merits of each proposed location. Too close to the estate, of course, and the noise would be disruptive, but too far and transferring supplies might be unpleasantly difficult.

Kazeharu objected to any locations near the well-beaten path running by the estate, when the commissioner suggested it would make for easy supply delivery, pointing out that pilgrims and the shrine maidens would not appreciate the constant noise either (not to mention that the blasted Guuji would make their lives hell if she got the chance and that was making it too easy for her, but he didn’t say that part out loud). He proposed installing a lift and setting the forge up at the base of the cliff - far enough away to not be heard, but the lift would make supply transport easy enough - but the commissioner himself vetoed that, stating that the beach was often haunted by unsavory types like treasure hunters and worse, and that he’d prefer to be able to dispatch guards easily to defend the place if necessary. Kazeharu kept the thought that he or the samurai could defend the place alone perfectly well to himself.

Kaedehara pointed out that they’d need stable, settled ground to place the anvils anyway, and that might be difficult to find closer to the beach. The wanderer had to admit he was probably right about that, and gave up trying to fight for the cliff base location, though he still thought they could have made it work if they’d tried. The samurai suggested the top of the cliff instead - no lift necessary, and guards could make a straight run to the area like Kamisato wanted. However, that would be far too close to the estate walls.

Those two restrictions ruled out pretty much all the locations to the east and west, and so they trudged over to the south next.

The cliffs were still prominent there, several ledges tracing the slope below the estate courtyard, before abruptly falling toward the sea in a final sheer drop that could potentially pose a problem, should the edge be prone to crumbling. None of them had geo visions to check the rock for danger, but otherwise the location seemed appropriate. The ledges would hide the forge from the view of the path, and as the estate was above, the view from the courtyard would not be blocked either - Kaedehara actually flung himself up through the air on a powerful gust of wind to perch on the railing there and make sure. Not quite flight, but certainly impressive.

They decided to check the north of the estate too, despite having found a location they all agreed had potential, just in case they brought in a geo user and discovered the cliff wasn’t stable enough for the proposed use. This, too, had an excellent location, a flat open space behind the estate that looked out over the trail down to the beach. However, it was close enough to the living quarters and offices of the family that the potential for audible noise disruption was apparent. If they built there, they’d need to invest in sound dampening equipment, and possibly mandate strict working hours.

“I believe the south ledge location to be the most appropriate,” Kaedehara said, after they’d finally returned to the courtyard with its carefully raked sands and planted greenery, the setting sun casting long shadows across it. Kazeharu, off to the side with his arms folded, offered a short nod, having nothing else to add.

“I will have an expert geo vision holder brought in to check the foundations there,” Kamisato said, somehow managing to look just as cool and composed as he had that morning, despite traipsing around his lands for the entire day - the two smiths both looked at least worn, if not exhausted. “If it’s stable enough, or only needs a slight touch of geo to be stable, then we will begin construction there immediately. If, however, the ledges prove unsuitable, are we all in agreement that the northern overlook would be the next suitable place?”

“Only if the ledges absolutely can’t be salvaged,” Kazeharu said, grimacing. “It really is too close to the rest of the estate.”

“It is,” Kaedehara agreed, “but it is the only other location that meets all our agreed on criteria.”

Out of the corner of his eye, the wanderer spotted a horribly familiar pink hairstyle and fox ears at the entrance to the courtyard, and he stiffened with dread. “If that’s everything you needed me for,” he said gruffly, trying not to show his sudden desire to escape, “I’d like to get back to my other duties.”

“I do believe we have everything we need for the moment, cousin,” Kaedehara said with one of his knowing smiles. “I appreciate your input, and your willingness to accommodate the changing situation.”

“Of course,” Kazeharu said, trying not to watch that pink nightmare grow closer. “I’ve no interest in making this more difficult than it has to be any more than you do.” He offered a polite bow to them as quickly as he could without offending, bidding them farewell with, “Commissioner, Kaedehara.”

Then he fled.

Paimon and Aether had already returned from their daily exploration and eaten dinner when he materialized in the teapot domain, thanking the archons for the near miss, and Aether was flitting about the kitchen, finishing up some dessert for her. “Haru,” he said, visibly brightening at the sight of the puppet. It was enough to draw a faint smile onto his face. “How’d everything go? Did you pick a spot?”

“We did,” Kazeharu said, dropping onto the couch across from Paimon and leaning back into the cushions. He didn’t get tired, but he appreciated being able to stop, for a moment. “To the southeast, on those ledges below the courtyard.”

“Mmm,” Aether said, looking up and trying to place it in his mind. “I think I know where that is, yeah. Is that a big enough space?”

“It should be,” the wanderer said, closing his eyes and imagining it again. “The ledges are wider than they look from the path, and should help keep it out of view, too.”

He opened his eyes at the sound of a clink in front of him. A steaming teacup, filled with what he could smell was one of his own teas, and the traveler carrying Paimon’s dessert. “It’s a new recipe from Fontaine I wanted to try,” Aether explained, placing what looked like a massive pile of stiff cream on the table. Paimon seemed excited about whatever it was, wiggling impatiently in her seat and slurping drool back into her mouth. “Lemon Meringue Pie.”

“How is Fontaine, anyway?” Kazeharu inquired, reaching for the cup and taking a long, slow sip, savoring the taste. “You haven’t said much about it.”

“That’s because there’s nothing really to say, yet,” the traveler said, slicing the disturbing creation into eighths. “They’ve been doing a remarkably good job of using my status as an honored guest to drag me to all these events and functions instead of letting me run around and poke my nose into things. The only good thing about that is that I’ve at least seen the Hydro Archon already if not spoken to her, and at first glance she doesn’t match the unknown god that ripped our wings off.”

“The perils of fame,” Kazeharu said dryly. “Do you think they’re hiding something from you?”

“Oh yes. There’s no question about that, but finding out what and whether it’s really dangerous is the hard part,” the other man said, serving up a slice for Paimon and another for himself. Now that it was sliced, it was apparent that the cream was merely the topping for a thick crystallized yellow filling on a thin crust of some sort. “So far our best lead is that they’ve smuggled some artifact in from the chasm to study - haven’t been able to identify what, yet, but I’ll bet anything the Qixing won’t approve if they find out.”

The puppet hummed thoughtfully, leaning back and sipping his tea. “Want me to pull some strings, get them to look into it on their end?”

“If you wouldn’t mind. It took long enough to trace the thing back to Liyue, finding out what it actually was will take even longer if it’s just us - and I’d rather keep an eye on whatever they’re doing with it right now anyway.”

Paimon’s mouth, now full of the filling and cream, twisted in dismay, and she blinked back tears to whine, “It’s so sour! Traveler, it’s - ugh, why is it so sour? I don’t know if I like it…”

Kazeharu let out a breathy little laugh at the look on her face. “Oh, something the flying stomach can’t handle? Now I’m interested.”

“I can get you a slice,” Aether said, around his own mouthful, but the puppet shook his head and leaned forward.

“No need,” he said, with a sly grin, plucking the fork straight out of the startled traveler’s hand. “I’ll just steal some of yours.” He went straight for the filling, scooping up some of the yellow gel over Aether’s stuttering protest and licking it off.

“Mmm,” he said, swirling it around his mouth with his tongue as he considered the taste. “Sour is good too. A little sticky, though, I’ll pass.” He returned the fork without further comment and took another long sip of his tea, smiling smugly at the traveler’s red-faced dismay. 

“That was mine, you know,” Aether said, frowning at him.

“Please, I hardly took any,” Kazeharu said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “You’ve got the entire rest of the pie anyway, if even Paimon doesn’t want it.”

“Paimon didn’t say that!” she protested over another, smaller bite. “Paimon was just surprised, is all. It doesn’t look that strong with all that cream on it.”

“So you’re going to have seconds after all?”

“…Paimon didn’t say that either.”

He laughed into his tea, as Aether rolled his eyes at both of them before finally taking another bite with his reclaimed fork.

“Anyway,” he said, still slightly flushed, “The biggest problem they’ve got in Fontaine right now is the energy crisis - it’s not even a secret anymore. There’s rolling blackouts in the poorest parts of the city regularly, and a sort of black market for unorthodox energy supplies has sprung up on the street corners. I’ve seen this sort of thing on other worlds and it usually prompts the government to try to find alternatives or supplementary options to shore up the collapsing system.” 

He tapped the handle of the fork on the table thoughtfully, then continued. “My personal guess is that whatever they brought in from the chasm is intended for something like that. Unfortunately, the most obvious thing I remember seeing down there is all that abyssal gunk, so I’m just hoping they didn’t scoop any of that up to experiment on - it nearly killed several of the mortals that were exposed to it long term in just the month we were down there.”

“Leave it to mortals to find something poisonous and put it in everything before realizing it’s killing them,” Kazeharu said with a sigh. A very troubling scenario that was all too familiar on all too many levels. “Do you think…?”

Aether didn’t even need him to finish to know what he meant. “That the Fatui might have a hand in it? You and I both know that it wouldn’t be the first time they’ve done something like that.”

“No,” the puppet said quietly, “it wouldn’t. Destabilize the government, rile up the population, and use the chaos to move on the Archon. It’s practically textbook Fatui strategy by now, whether it takes centuries like Inazuma or months like Mondstadt.”

“Perhaps once things have been sorted out we should look into how and when the energy crisis started in the first place,” the traveler said, a frown marring that otherwise flawless countenance.

“I don’t know that it would actually do any good to prove it one way or another,” he pointed out over another sip of tea.

“Maybe not,” Aether admitted, “but it would be another charge to lay at their feet should it come to that.”

A charge? As if anything like that could be made to stick… “Surely you’re not thinking of dragging the Tsaritsa to one of Focalors sham trials, Aether. Overblown productions with induced drama for her own entertainment, and her peasants.”

“…I can’t say you’re wrong, having been to a few now,” the traveler said with an annoyed twist of his lips. “But they’re not the only nation that conducts inquiries and holds trials. Liyue, for instance, has a very low tolerance for bullshit, and a fresh vendetta against the Fatui to boot.”

“Hmm. Still, putting a god on trial just doesn’t seem likely,” Kazeharu muttered. “Her harbingers, now, and the rank and file? That I could see.”

“In my experience,” Aether said softly, staring blankly through the opposite wall, “when gods fuck up badly enough to warrant a trial, they don’t usually survive long enough for it to happen.”

Ah. Something about the other man’s expression told him he shouldn’t touch that. Instead he gave a small hum of acknowledgment to show he’d heard, and started looking through the reports that had been left on the table for him, to give the traveler the space he needed to process whatever terrible thing he was thinking about. Out of the corner of his eye he watched Paimon lever another slice of the pie onto her plate - so much for not eating another piece - before carefully and precisely cutting the meringue off of the filling. Next came the crust, the filling methodically scraped to one side. Finally - and now he stopped even pretending he wasn’t watching this incredible massacre of Aether’s efforts - the topping was scooped back up and placed back down on the empty crust. 

She looked enormously pleased with herself, and flashed him an unrepentant grin over her first bite of No-Lemon Meringue Pie. He had to hide a laugh at the audaciousness. Good for her, really. Maybe if she really didn’t want that lemon filling she’d left sitting forlornly on the side of her plate, he’d consider taking it off her hands. Just so Aether’s cooking wasn’t totally wasted, of course. It hadn’t been that sticky.

With an abrupt shake of his head, Aether’s eyes focused on the present again. “Welcome back,” Kazeharu said with a cheeky smile, leaning his chin on a fist. “Did you get me anything?”

He got an exasperated huff and a roll of the other’s eyes for his trouble. Definitely better than that blank look he’d had before, Kazeharu thought smugly. And then that exasperated tolerance turned to a hilariously pained rendition of dismay when the traveler spotted Paimon’s plate.

Oh, this would be good.

Chapter Text

“I know it’s hard,” Buer says. “And it will keep on being hard. There is no quick, easy solution to this. No magic cure, no spell from Irminsul to put everything and everyone back together. Your feelings and expectations are the result of a lifetime - two lifetimes - and it will similarly take time to overcome those instinctual reactions. But you can do it, because you’re stronger than you think. I believe in you.”

She smiles again. “All you need is time, and patience, and a healthy dose of honest love and affection.”

A week later and Aether was back in Liyue again, stocking up on rice and almonds and various other Liyuan specialties (chilis for one, they were low on jueyun chilis after Paimon had demanded chili chicken three days in a row). He’d resorted to picking them by hand after finding Wanmin Restaurant had once again bought out all the local shops, so he was not expecting any company out here in the wilds - much less this particular company.

“Comraddeee!” said the familiar voice in a sweet singsong lilt. “My good friend, my buddy!”

“What do you want, Childe,” said the traveler, notes of fondness running through his exasperated tone. “You’re clearly here for something, talking like that.”

“Well, you see,” the harbinger said with a grin, flopping down in the grass beside Aether, “I passed that note off for analysis like a good harbinger should, and I gotta say, that was damn well done, really. Professional job, extremely high-quality. No fingerprints or elemental traces save yours and mine, paper untraceable, ink completely generic, no identifiable handwriting quirks.”

“I’ll let them know you approved,” Aether said dryly, plucking another chili bulb. “I’m sure they’ll appreciate it.”

“That’s the thing though… not all of our people learn those particular skills, so it narrows things down a bit. Add that to the fact that they know about the abyss studies and internal harbinger politics, and we’ve got ourselves a nice little profile to start with. And you know what we found when we looked through all of the potential matches?”

“What?” he asked, trying to conceal the sudden spike in his heart rate. Haru would be fine, he assured himself.

“Nothing,” Childe said, grinning even wider, slightly feral. “Every single person or corpse for the last twenty years is accounted for.”

“Well, then. That’s good for us, not so good for you now, is it?” Hopefully.

“Ohh, but you see, comrade, now the situation has our full attention,” the harbinger said with a manic chuckle. “Something’s not adding up here, and we’re going to go over everything with a fine-toothed comb. People that partially match the profile, people that serve people who match the profile, people further back than twenty years - it’s gonna be huge. And if we still don’t find anything, you know what happens next?”

“What,” Aether said, swallowing to ease the nervous dryness in his mouth.

That grinning freckled face leaned in close to whisper, “The Tsaritsa herself will get involved. Archons bless, your little traitor friend over there has really shaken things up,” the man said, leaning back with an expansive gesture. “I love it, comrade. Pure chaos. Honestly, if they hadn’t already betrayed us we’d be extending an invitation to join us.”

“Pfffffftt.” The traveler couldn’t hide a snort at that. “I really doubt they’d ever want to come back. I really, really doubt it.” Not with that newfound grudge against the Cryo Archon and supreme leader herself simmering under the former harbinger’s skin, not to mention Dottore’s mere existance.

“The Director thinks it’s a ploy to rile us up, get us to start infighting. I gotta admit, it’s a good tactic, if that’s true - everyone’s more on edge than they’ve been in years. The only thing I really question, though?”

“What?”

“The timing,” the other man said, dropping all pretense of good humour. “It makes no sense. We’re not in the final stages of any plans right now, nor are we seeing any indications that someone’s planning an attack on us that would benefit from that kind of distrust and chaos. Honestly, all this will do in the long term is tighten security, which would defeat the whole point of such a move.”

Aether made a wordless noise of assent. It was true it would’ve been pointless, and that wasn’t why they’d done it.

“…Which leads me back to why I’m here,” Childe said, watchful eyes flickering across the surrounding landscape checking for danger, eavesdroppers, or both. “I don’t appreciate threats to my family, and the other harbingers know that. Pulci’s added more guards to the roster at my parent’s house, citing the note as evidence of a plot.”

Considering Pulcinella was the threat identified in the original warning, it was understandable Childe might have mixed feelings about that.

The man said after a moment, very quietly, lips hardly moving. “You sure this source of yours is believable and not just stirring up shit?”

“I would trust him,” Aether said with finality, “with my life.” Even if he was a mischievous gremlin at times.

“Oh?” Childe said, his head tilting slightly, that merciless glint back in his eye. “Him, huh?”

Dammit. Dammit dammit dammit, was all he could think. I’m so sorry, Haru, I slipped up.

“Don’t give me that look, comrade,” the harbinger said, lips still barely moving. “That’s not enough to rule out anyone, considering the level of espionage skill we’re talking about. Still, filing that away for later, heh. Back on topic though… say, hypothetically, something… bad… happened, and my family needed to hide somewhere for… some unspecified reason. Any thoughts on that?”

“If you’re asking me if I had somewhere they could stay, the answer is yes.”

“Good, good,” was the absentminded reply. “Zhongli-xiansheng said he could protect anyone here in Liyue, but obviously my family’s all the way over in Snezhnaya. We’d been talking about trying to get my little treasures down to Liyue Harbor for a real vacation before all of this mess, but not sure any of that will go through anymore, you know?”

“If they stayed in my domain, no one could get in or out to see them without my express permission, and I could bring it to them. Zhongli could probably set something similar up if he wanted, though.”

“Oh sure, but I wouldn’t want to put anyone out setting up things they don’t already have and need for a hypothetical situation that is, if we’re being honest, unlikely in the extreme. Whatever you’ve got sounds perfect, honestly. There a reason you haven’t shown me this place yet?”

“I’m afraid I have to draw the line at giving you, or any Fatui - friend or not - full access to my house when you could waypoint in and wreak havoc any time you please even when I’m asleep or not there. Just how it is right now, you know?” He didn’t mention the details, or that he could bring people in and out without giving them permanent access, because knowing the man he would insist on seeing it right then and there. Not with Haru living there, now. It would be too much to hope for him to be out tending to Nahida’s tasks precisely at the right moment.

“Fair enough, I suppose,” the harbinger said with a sigh. “Can’t really blame you.”

“Well, then, comrade,” he said, standing abruptly, “I have to thank you for the lovely chat as always - and between you and me? We never talked about your house. Or Zhongli.”

“Of course,” Aether said. “You only spent an awful lot of time trying to wheedle extra information out of me just now.”

“Which I got, by the way,” the man said with a jaunty skip and a wink as he turned to leave. “Can’t say it’s useful info, but it’ll do for my purposes.”

With that and a casual wave, he sauntered off towards the harbor, whistling, hands shoved in his pockets.

Haru and Paimon were nowhere to be seen when he returned with his haul that evening. Not in the house, not at the forge, and not in the expansive cellar where all his surplus things were stored. Consulting with Tubby told him they were both still in the domain at least - by the training ground, oddly enough. A short enough walk, even if he was tired from his gathering session.

Haru was, surprisingly, not the one training. Instead, he was guiding Paimon through a series of Inazuman sword movements that seemed vaguely familiar, from what he’d seen of Kazuha’s fighting style - then he reminded himself that of course they would be familiar, they were both practitioners of the same art, even if Haru’s knowledge stemmed from several centuries further back. The miniature wooden shinai in Paimon’s hands was clearly made just for her, and she was going through the repetitive motions with a slight bit of extra grace that showed she was growing used to them, even if she wasn’t very experienced yet. This obviously wasn’t the first or even the second time they’d done this.

He slowed to a halt watching this unusual little scene, finding himself committing everything to memory - the determined concentration on Paimon’s small face, the gentle adjustments Haru made to her stances in direct contrast to the brusque language of his spoken words.

“Footwork is still important even if you’re floating, pipsqueak,” said that familiar no-nonsense voice. “Place your legs wrong, and you’ll make it harder to continue your own attacks, like just happened. Remember, each movement leads into the next, and while you’re not using your feet for grip and bracing, you’re still using them for balance. Try again.”

“Paimon can’t keep track of all of it all at the same time,” she said with a tired whine, but started over without further protest.

“That’s why you practice, squirt,” the other man said with a huff, folding his arms and watching her perform the little almost-dance again. “You can’t waste energy thinking about where to put your blade and your feet and hands when you need to focus your attention on reading an opponent, so it needs to be muscle memory before you ever fight a real enemy.”

The puppet’s head turned slightly when Aether started towards them again, one shaded eye visibly tracking his progress from under the brim of that huge hat, before turning back to his little student with a grimace.

“I would never have expected you to try teaching her anything, much less weaponry,” was all he said when he reached them. Paimon grinned, looking unbelievably smug about the situation for some reason, before the wanderer stepped in with a scowl to forcibly readjust her stance again and she grudgingly went back to practicing.

Haru stepped back and leaned against the nearest tree after she settled down, tipping his hat down over his eyes to hide what looked like frustration, but all he said was, “She was… surprisingly persistent about it.”

There was definitely more to the story than that, but he wasn’t going to pry when the puppet looked so uncomfortable.

“Are you going to make her a Paimon-sized sword, too?” he asked thoughtfully. “I haven’t tried training her myself because she’s just too small for anything but a custom weapon.”

“If she learns how to not hurt herself with it, I’ll make one. If,” the man emphasized. “She wanted a sword, and that was my condition. Either she’ll get bored and drop it, or she’ll learn enough that it won’t be my fault if she gets hurt running around with the thing.”

“I appreciate the effort, Haru,” the traveler said with a wry smile. “She stopped pestering me about it a few years ago, but I’m not surprised she’s still interested.”

“She wants to protect your dumb ass, in case you were wondering.”

“Heh. That’s cute.”

“Of course you would think that,” Haru said with an exaggerated roll of his eyes, before leaning forward to call, “Wrong leg. Try again, pipsqueak.”

“Tartaglia says hi, by the way,” Aether said, leaning back against the other tree, “and was really impressed with your apparently untraceable note. Unfortunately it looks like they’re taking your presence very seriously - he said they’ve gone through twenty years worth of Fatui records and personnel, didn’t find anything, and are expanding the search.”

“To be expected, I suppose,” the puppet said with a sigh. “I doubt they’ll actually find anything unless they take a good look at the ‘empty’ seat of the sixth, but I can’t rule anything out.”

“He also said the Rooster posted more guards on his family.”

Haru grimaced. “Not surprised in the least. How’d he take it?”

“Well, ostensibly he was there to find out more about you, but he also took the opportunity to inquire about hiding his family here in my domain.”

The puppet’s face turned towards him with shocking speed, dismay written all over it. “…his family is huge, Aether. Seven kids with grandkids and counting, huge. You wouldn’t be able to fit them all in your house.”

“No, but I could build them another house if it became a long term thing. We’ve got enough couches around the place for a temporary stay, and the guest room could fit the three littlest kids if we squeezed another bed in there.”

“…well, it’s your funeral, I guess,” the other man said with a resigned shrug. “Did he say anything else?”

“Ah, well-” He’d have to tell him he’d made a mistake, sooner or later. Might as well get it over with. “I may have accidentally let slip you were male, but he didn’t seem to think that was very important.”

“The other Harbingers might have different opinions about that,” Haru said with a scowl. “That’s half their potential suspects ruled out, though if they’re being as thorough as it seems they might investigate all of them anyway. Still…”

“My bad,” Aether said with a frown. “I slipped up once and he caught it immediately.”

“Well,” the puppet said after a moment, watching Paimon still working through her exercises, “at least you don’t have to worry about it anymore. One less thing to think about when talking with him.”

“I still should’ve-”

“That’s it! Paimon is done!” the little sprite declared mulishly, hurling her shinai to the ground in a fit of sudden frustration that drew both their gazes. “Paimon is so tired and she’ll never get this stupid move right,” she wailed, flopping onto the ground dramatically. “Paimon will die first!”

“That last try wasn’t terrible,” Haru began, before he was interrupted by another petulant declaration from the figure in the grass.

“Nope, Paimon is dead now. Her suffering corpse will lie here forever and she’ll haunt anyone that dares to train where she died!”

“Oh dear,” Aether said, playing along and walking over to examine the ‘body’, his braid dangling over his shoulder to tickle her face when he bent down. “It seems we’ll have to call for Hu Tao and Zhongli to take care of this little ghost problem.”

Paimon shot up at that, waving her hands frantically and nearly squeaking in her haste to speak. “No, no no, Hu Tao would try to kill Paimon for real! And then stuff her in a tiny Paimon sized coffin-”

“How about dinner instead of dying, then?” the traveler said with a smile. “I brought back more chilis.”

She gasped excitedly, wiggling midair as though she’d forgotten how tired she’d been just seconds earlier. “Jueyun Chili Chicken again?” Behind her, Haru rolled his eyes and folded his arms again at her sudden miraculous recovery.

Aether’s smile only widened in amused fondness. “If that’s what the magnificent Miss Paimon desires, then yes, of course.”

“Yelan sends her regards,” Haru said in his office later, after Paimon had dozed her way through her dinner and finally (reluctantly) given in and gone to bed, offering him an envelope full of thick pieces of paper - no, on second glance, they were Kamera photos, face down. “I didn’t look at them yet. She also mentioned that you asked for the missing person posters to be taken down?”

The traveler was silent for a long moment. “Lumine… she’s been deliberately avoiding me, and… I don’t want someone finding her and getting hurt because of my carelessness. That’s not - not a possibility I can rule out anymore. Not with what we know now.”

The puppet lowered his head at that, hiding his face under the brim of his hat as though he was the one with nascent tears stinging his eyes. Maybe he was being unusually considerate and giving Aether a moment to regain his composure. Or maybe he was just that interested suddenly in the intricate clasps securing his mantle and vision to his shoulder.

The traveler cleared his throat and changed the topic. “Was this all they sent?” he asked, taking the pictures out and flipping the first over. Huh. A photo of the chasm’s celestial nail, hanging in the air in the same dark cavern as usual.

Haru nodded curtly, finally glancing back up at him. “They also mentioned that Rhodeia of Loch is missing from her usual haunt - for almost a week now. Probably unrelated, but since it’s Fontaine…” The traveler hummed acknowledgment and flipped over the next photo - a close-up of a section of the side. Another closeup of the same area, with a different perspective, followed by a thin copy of an older photo of the nail, a date shortly after their last chasm expedition written on the top in purple ink, and the same side of the nail circled. He thought he knew where this was going, but compared the two full-length shots anyway.

As expected, they were different. There was a section missing in the newer photo - he wouldn’t have noticed considering the damage the nail already sported, if it hadn’t been pointed out in the older photo. “They stole a piece of the nail?” Haru said, leaning an arm on his shoulder to take a closer look himself, tipping his hat back to rest on the traveler’s head too. “Seriously?”

“Has to be it,” Aether said, flipping over the last few photos, all confirming that a section of the nail had been removed. “The hell are they trying to do though? The nail fragments on Dragonspine were half the reason that awful unmeltable ice was everywhere.”

“Maybe they think they can use it for their power issue somehow?” the wanderer mused.

“Whatever the case, at least I know what to look for if I want to track it down,” he said, tapping the photos against his other palm as he thought. “Discolored plant life in the vicinity, unusual temperature drops, ice where it shouldn’t be. Figuring out what they’re trying to do with it can probably wait until it’s been located - once we know where it is and can prove they have it we can start moving things through more official channels.”

“Be careful, Aether,” the puppet said, giving his cheek a deliberate poke from where he was resting on the traveler’s shoulder. “We already know they’re watching you - if you make even the slightest misstep they’ll take the opportunity to put you on trial yourself, and possibly kick you out of the country. That would kill any chance you have to look into all this, and we all know you’d hate that.”

“Would I really, though?” Aether muttered to himself. “Surely there’s at least one region of Teyvat that can get its own shit together. Maybe it’s Fontaine, did you think about that?”

He received a humourless snort in answer, breath puffing across his neck. “That’ll happen when geo slimes fly.”

“Perfect. I’ll get to work on that immediately. If Albedo can do it, so can they.”

The low chuckle next to his ear made him turn slightly, just to catch Haru smiling at him predatorily, half-lidded indigo eyes glinting in the lamplight. He was abruptly very, very aware of how close the other man was, half-gloved hands twined together casually on his shoulder, his delicate chin propped against them and his body draped against Aether’s back. 

He found himself giving the man a slow smile of his own back. He could get used to that look on him. The puppet leaned in closer, as if he was about to start flirting, and said in a breathy whisper, “Your eyes are even prettier up close, little star.”

Oh.

He was flirting.

“Says the man with the most gorgeous eyes in all Teyvat,” Aether replied sweetly, before his brain could catch up to his mouth. He belatedly hoped that wasn’t too much of an honest response for the puppet, after he’d finally worked up the nerve to make an overt move. (He’d been hoping for this for months now.)

Haru flicked his nose hard in response before pulling away completely, a blush creeping up his face as he said loftily, “I’m the one giving compliments here, dumbass.”

Oops. Too much after all. He was already regretting making the wanderer lose his composure enough to retreat as it was, but couldn’t resist tacking on a small protest. “I don’t remember seeing any rules about that anywhere.”

“Too late,” the puppet said, pulling the hat down to hide as much of his beautifully blushing face as he could and spinning to escape out the office door. “Rulebreakers don’t get second chances. Better luck next time.”

Next time, huh? How cute.

The smile crept back onto his face. Aether would be looking forward to it.

Chapter Text

He had never liked the idea of fate. The idea that choices ultimately didn’t matter. That he had been doomed to abandonment and torture from the start, that Niwa and Katsu and all of Tatarasuna had been destined for slow, cruel deaths from the start.

It also meant that Dottore was not a perpetrator, a deceiver, a murderer, merely the natural agent of the fate that had been laid down for those he tortured.

He couldn’t accept that.

“Albedo and Dorian agree with me,” Haru said without preamble later that week, when Aether walked in the front door.

“On…?”

“The Shouki no Kami,” he said, rolling his eyes impatiently, annoyed that the traveler hadn’t instantly read his mind (honestly, Haru, he could only do that with physical contact! He’d barely seen the man recently, let alone touched him.) “We’ve been going over the documentation and blueprints together for days. It’s definitely capable of containing the gnoses like I thought, which would amplify each limb’s powers - and Albedo theorizes that when the ascension was completed, as a god of wisdom it would’ve been capable of connecting to a user directly through Irminsul, possibly with the use of a dreamscape.”

He was gesturing fiercely as he spoke, clearly worked up about it. “I already have the power to link to Irminsul from the half-completed process, but I never gained the power to manipulate dreams - Buer might’ve had a harder time fooling me if I had - so I asked her what she thought and she thinks it could be done. In fact, she thinks it’s ‘highly probable’ that would have been the end goal. A self-contained dreamscape entered by sitting in the cockpit, and within the dream you would be connected to the body as if it was yours.”

“So, basically…”

“Basically the Cryo Archon is definitely trying to wield all the gnoses at the same time. The Omni Agenda was successful in designing a vessel capable of wielding all the elements, they just didn’t like how easily I got my ass kicked while I was in it.”

“Damn,” the blonde said, frowning.

“Or, as Albedo put it, and I quote, ‘While a success,’” the man said in a fair imitation of the alchemist’s calm dialogue, closing his eyes and pasting a knowledgeable look on his face, “‘the mechanical nature of the initial prototype was a serious weakness, easily disrupted by the very element that it was attuned to. Therefore, a sturdier and more biological nature would be preferable for the finished product. It would need to be properly enhanced, of course, so tests would need to be performed to devise suitable methods to insulate containing flesh against the raw power of the gnosis - hence the abductions.’”

He paused briefly, then added, “Also, Klee says hi, and she thinks we should all go fish-blasting together sometime.”

“Of course she would,” Aether murmured with a fond smile. “Bombing fish is her favorite pastime, after all.”

“I told her we’re busy right now, but she said we had to visit once we aren’t anymore.”

“Judging by everything you just said,” the traveler said dryly, “that might be a while.”

“They also think that with Irminsul cured and the divine knowledge no longer causing instantaneous insanity, the Fatui could go ahead and build another, simpler vessel without any need for the puppet-filtering system in the first place, and keep it as a backup plan in case their people experiments don’t work out.”

“Meaning whatever else happens, the only thing stopping her from attacking Celestia is the two gnoses she’s still missing.”

The wanderer nodded. “If we could find where they’re conducting those experiments we could probably also throw a wrench in things. My only idea for that so far, though, is to plant a tracker in someone and use them as bait, and I think that has far too many problems to even consider.”

“Hmm. Can’t see anyone willingly submitting themselves to Dottore - nor would I let them, if I’m being honest.”

“So,” the puppet said with a slow drawl, sinking back into the cushions on the couch, “how was your day? Confirm the details of any prior murder plots against you too? And where’s the nuisance?”

“Nothing so exciting. Paimon’s napping in her little pocket dimension, I found some suspect blue-tinged grass, and that reporter from the Steambird told me that they’ve got word that Capitano is starting to mobilize his troops over in Natlan.”

“Interesting…” Haru said with a thoughtful frown. “That’s unusual. Do they know what for?”

“I was hoping you’d know.”

The man waved a resigned hand in emphasis, stating, “The first never requested my assistance with anything clandestine - he’s Capitano, he hates that sort of thing - so I know a lot less about the region than elsewhere.”

“Ah. That’s unfortunate. I don’t have any contacts there yet, so I can only rely on what I’m hearing from others, and of course the Fatui aren’t eager to talk to me about their work.”

“No shit,” the puppet snorted. “Tell me about the grass. You think you found the nail?”

“It’s just on the edges of a building near the main plaza, near the canals. I’m not entirely sure that’s what it is, since it’s pretty faint, still, but I haven’t seen any other possible signs anywhere in the city. I haven’t found anything else about the place yet - and there’s too many eyes on me to try sneaking in.”

“Is this your roundabout way of asking to borrow my stealth module?” Haru said, tilting his head with a smirk. “Because I can assure you, it’s not going anywhere without me.”

“Well, if you wanted to come along and help, you could just say so,” Aether said, returning the smirk.

“That’s not as much fun, Traveler,” he said, rolling his eyes as if that was obvious, before standing. “But I do think I’ll take the opportunity to see if the Fatui have a hand in this nonsense while I can. Let’s go.”

The massive plaza was busy as always when they arrived, the milling crowd loud enough to be heard over the noise of passing personal steam wagons. Vendors, forbidden from selling in the plaza itself, lined the nearby streets hawking cheap food and trinkets for souvenirs, certain to attract the attention of any visitors to the nation - Justice Plaza, of course, was guaranteed to be a destination for any sightseeing tourists eager to gawk at Fontaine’s wondrous steam creations and the Hydro Archon’s personal courtroom, and the merchants took full advantage of it. The late afternoon sun struggled its way through the ever-present clouds of persistent smog to lay feeble fingers on the weathered buildings and indifferent mortals going about their daily routines under the watchful eye of the Fontainian police.

When the wanderer and the traveler materialized next to the waypoint they immediately retreated towards the nearby edge of the plaza so as not to be run over by the swirling mass of humanity, Aether threading through the throng and pulling Haru after him by his hand. Here, by the iron fence guarding some historic stone building, there were fewer people, and the roar of the crowd softer. The grounds beyond the fence were almost serene in comparison, carefully maintained swathes of grass leading up to the flowerbeds and bushes by the stone walls themselves, while ornamental trees to attract birds lined the fence itself, branches leaning out and over just slightly to share their leaves with the flagstones beyond.

As they stopped to take stock of the situation, a single bird fluttered over and landed on the brim of the wanderer’s hat, to his annoyance and Aether’s amusement.

“So where is this building,” Haru said, tipping his hat back to scan the area, pretending there wasn’t currently a small rotund critter on the brim. “The plaza yes, but near the canals, you said?”

“The far edge, over there,” the traveler said, pulling out his map to show him the exact location. “It’s actually a complex of buildings, but the discolored grass was specifically near this section here…”He trailed off, eyeing the twitching muscle in the wanderer’s brow and his increasingly hunched shoulders. “-why do you look so irritated? I thought you wanted to look into this?”

“It’s nothing,” he snapped, tilting the brim of his hat back down to hide his face, and in the process revealing four more birds that had joined the first. Another one swooped down to perch next to the rest even as Aether stared in stunned silence.

“Don’t look at me like that,” the puppet snarled, clearly knowing just why the traveler was suddenly doing his best to contain his laughter. “It - I - they just - look, I’m pretty sure the idiot featherbrained menaces think I’m a tree or something. Since I smell like wood like Kaedehara says or whatever.”

Aether muffled a snort, knowing the man probably enjoyed the attention - but only when no one was there to see. “This happens a lot?”

“Not if I keep moving,” he said with a grumble. Then he added after a short pause, “…usually, anyway.”

Meaning sometimes they were persistent enough to bother him even when he was walking around, the traveler realized, trying to prevent another splutter of laughter from bubbling up inside him. “Well, new friends aside,” Aether said, still struggling to keep a straight face as the birds atop the hat puffed up their feathers comfortably, some taking the opportunity to preen themselves, “we’re going to have to skirt the edges of the plaza to get over there, unless you really want to wade through the middle.”

“I might have slightly increased my tolerance for ordinary humans over the past year,” the wanderer said, lips pulling back in disgust, “but I assure you if you make me walk through that someone is going to die horribly.”

“That’s what I thought,” said the traveler with a laugh as he started off down the side of the plaza. “Let’s just go around.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Haru said with a snort, then lowered his voice below the level an ordinary human could hear. “You go find somewhere conspicuous to sit and be obviously not involved in infiltrating probable Fontainian government buildings. A café or something.”

“All by my lonesome?” Aether said with a mock pout.

“If you want someone to chatter at you then wake up Paimon,” Haru said with a dismissive wave, already walking away with his avian escort in tow. “I’ve got work to do.”

The surprised cheeps of abruptly airborne birds when Kazeharu dismissed his hat were almost enough to make up for the humiliation of being sat on in the first place, in front of the traveler, of all people. He shooed them away with sharp swipes of his hand, not wanting to accidentally carry one with him while he was attempting to be silent and unseen. He quickly checked the ends of the narrow alley and the overhanging roof one more time, before finally activating his stealth module.

His brief once-over of the target building had revealed a sort of grate below the walkway that drained into the canal, so that was his first target. It was easy enough to lower himself into the shallow waterway, but moving without sending out too many noticeable ripples was a painstaking process. It was still faster than trying to wait for someone careless to walk through one of the several doors into the complex.

The grate was ornate, as expected of the central city, and had several concealed bolts securing it to the foundation. While he could just destroy the grate, that would make it too easy for people to realize how he’d gotten in, or notice before he was finished, and he was hoping to conceal his tracks as long as he could. So, instead, the puppet slid thin fingers across the edges of the metal, feeling for the slight decrease in the indentation that would tell him he had found a bolt. Then, carefully, he shot the tiniest, thinnest wind blade he could possible craft into the gap, compressing as much force as he could into a single blow that would sever the metal binding as quietly as possible.

There were four, he had thought, seeing the design of the grate, but when he tested it after locating them, it was only loose, not free. The top seemed to shift easily enough, so he must have missed one along the bottom edge. Sure enough, when he double checked, there were two separate fixtures holding it to the ground - slightly different than the upper bolts, explaining why he’d missed them. Two more wind blades, and the grate slid free easily, and back in just as easily when he’d entered the drain. As long as no one looked closely, or bumped it, it would seem just as solid as usual.

Since this drain flowed into the well-kept canals, it wouldn’t be connected to the sewer, but to internal steamwork systems like air cooling and lighting. As long as he could find an access hatch for maintenance, he’d be able to slip inside without issue. At that point it would be up to his skill to avoid detection and locate the information that Aether - no, that both of them needed. This whole thing stank of Fatui, and since he wasn’t privy to their internal workings anymore, he needed to find things out in other ways. Whether this operation was simply a play for the hydro gnosis or somehow related to the Omni Agenda that had nearly killed him, he would find out everything he could. (And if he could make life miserable for the Fatui operatives involved while he was at it, all the better.)

He finally found an access hatch, and pressed his ear up against it to listen with all his inhuman clarity for any possible presence outside. If it was a government building, there were likely hidden state-of-the-art kameras in the rooms and halls to keep track of everything, but those would only be a problem after the fact, when people came to check them. He just needed to make sure that no one was there to spot the hatch moving and alert the rest of the staff before he could make it inside.

Kazeharu heard faint footsteps and voices, but they were muffled by the bends in corridors and distance, telling him that no one was nearby. Time to move, then.

Out came his lockpicks, and he easily flipped the bolt latching it. It wasn’t a true lock, just an automatic measure to keep it from being carelessly left open. That meant if he was potentially going to leave this way that he’d need to block the latch from resetting, just in case he needed to hurry. He ran through his mental list of things in his pockets that he could use as a makeshift doorstop - his worrystone? No, Aether had given him that. He could slip his ID card in between the bolt and the wall, but that was a stupid idea - if he was forced to leave without it, it would be absolutely damning. (Perhaps he should leave it behind for some of these missions. But no, then if he had to reassure a citizen that he wasn’t some murderer - well, anymore - he’d be out of luck.)

That left the mahjong tile that he’d swiped from the traveler. The east wind, his kazehai. He had no particular attachment to the tile itself, merely the associated memory, and while he’d be disappointed to have to leave it, it wouldn’t have any clear association with anyone if it was found.

It slipped into the crack between the the two pieces of the latch with ease, and he let himself out into the corridor with all the silent grace his divine heritage granted him. The hallway was nothing special, no extra clearance or visible decoration, and he paused briefly to estimate where he was compared to where he’d entered, and where the suspected nail probably was.

That way, he thought, and turned right, following the corridor past various nondescript rooms, each quickly analyzed with a glance through the small window in the door. Storage, storage, lots of storage, some kind of break room, more storage. He’d obviously ended up in the back end of the facility, considering how little activity there was down here. That meant that either the nail was in some kind of storage along with the rest of whatever all of this was, or that the area it was being assessed in was out of the way - or possibly just out of sight.

He kept his senses alert, feeling for any hint of unusual power in the air that he could follow. Strangely though, what he felt seemed more like… an absence of power. A negative presence, as though it had been stripped from the area so thoroughly that it had left behind a void in the normal flow of the ley lines. That was almost more concerning than what he’d been expecting to find, and his steps quickened. This world was fundamentally based on powers and their interactions - what would it mean if that power was stripped away? Would they all crumble into nothingness?

The unsettling lack of power grew stronger as he continued, and now he was having to dodge researchers and staff, sliding along the wall in the hopes that they’d remain in the middle of the corridors. The air felt drained, like it wasn’t capable of sustaining basic life anymore. That wasn’t exactly a concern for him, as he didn’t need to breathe, but Kazeharu had to wonder if the haggard researchers he was seeing were tired from more than just overwork and exhaustion.

He wouldn’t be surprised. The Fatui were notorious for their lack of concern about the well-being of their own members and allies.

And there they were, just as he expected. 

Agents and operatives knew better than anyone how their own stealth modules worked. He had to avoid them more carefully than the researchers, and his progress slowed to a crawl as he climbed up to the ceiling to evade detection. The faintest ghost of anemo kept him airborne, but the close hallways made it nearly impossible to actually fly without hitting someone, so he had to settle for awkwardly spidering his way across the walls.

Even if he found nothing else, the fact that the Fatui were involved in whatever this was confirmed his suspicions that just as in Inazuma, they were playing a double game. Work with the government on one front, while pulling strings on their own behalf in the background. Whatever Focalors - or her officials, if she turned out to be uninvolved - thought they were getting, it was almost certainly a ploy to gain her gnosis in some fashion. That was indisputable.

And now he thought he had found a room that might tell him more about it. Double doors, with more traffic in and out of it than any of the other rooms he’d passed, Fatui guards on either side… this was definitely something worth looking into, even if it wasn’t the nail. The strangely dull air, devoid of all power, was at its strongest here, and he needed to know why.

It took some time to get in place over the twin doors, ready to flip down and in as soon as they were both opened. His opportunity came when a pair of staff carrying a box of something into the room got the guards to open the doors, and he slipped in before they even finished swinging them wide.

Gotcha. There it was, clamped in the middle of some complicated dual-chambered mechanism, delicate whirling parts funneling the energy from the fragment of celestial power into the central valve, where it met…

What was that?

Dark energy, so familiar, and yet strangely patterned. It was like… the crystallized essence of the abyss, lacking all intent and awareness. What had Aether said? That the chasm was also a source for condensed abyssal residue? The ‘gunk’ as he called it.

Was this, then, a refined form of that? He couldn’t sense it, not properly, just like he couldn’t sense the celestial energy expected from the nail. All he felt was that strange absence of power in the air as the two thin streams met in the central valve and something was produced and channeled into a second mechanism, which seemed to be converting it into the more mundane energy that flowed through the mechanical veins of Fontaine. So, they’d been right - this was their solution to the energy crisis that they’d been experiencing. But if Kazeharu was certain about anything, it was that this strange celestial-abyssal reaction was also the cause of the disturbingly drained environment surrounding him.

He had a very bad feeling about this.

One did not walk down this particular hallway casually. Even him. But his goal lay beyond the door at the far end, and so he strode down it as though unaffected by the weighty presence he could feel beyond.

He opened the door without knocking. That was a right granted only to one person in all of Snezhnaya, and he took care not to abuse it. “Your Majesty. My apologies for the interruption.”

“Unless you are here to tell me that you have found the missing traitor,” she said without turning from the icy window, “I am not interested in wasting time that could be spent looking for him.”

“Found, no,” he said with a shallow bow. “But I do have an update for you, Your Majesty.”

“Continue,” she said, turning away from the snow-shrouded view with a glacial sigh.

“We have located some… inconsistencies in the Sixth Division’s records.” He opened the folder in his hands to remove and offer several sheets of paper for the Tsaritsa to read. “This latest one was only a few years back, when the constellatory meteor shower struck.”

She accepted the pages to scan through them herself, flipping through them with a pensive frown marring that serene, ageless face.

“As you can see from the mission directives,” he explained, “this sort of job would normally require the supervision of a harbinger - any harbinger. The fact that there wasn’t one there at all is… contrary to every protocol we have. And this is not the only one. If we look back through the records, there are a startling number of these peculiar harbinger-less missions performed by the Sixth Division.”

She flipped the papers back to the front with an audible snap, her attention expectantly returned to the other with a raised brow.

“To be brief,” he said, raising a finger for each point, “we have: 
One: An unknown traitor to the Fatui with both high-level training and sensitive inside knowledge.
Two: A history of Sixth Division missions that are mysteriously missing the requisite harbinger supervising them.
Three: An empty seat in the form of the Sixth Harbinger, supposedly left empty in memory of the previous sixth.”

“You think we have a rogue sixth capable of memory manipulation on our hands,” she said calmly. “A Scaramouche, as that is the only title unaccounted for.”

He nodded. “It was a very, very thorough job. Had the traitor not revealed themselves out of misplaced sentiment for what one would assume was a former colleague, we might never have noticed.”

She raised a slim finger to her cold lips, tapping thoughtfully. “Now that I think back carefully… the previous sixth never did anything so spectacular as to deserve such a dedicated remembrance, nor was I so fond of him as to simply do it out of nostalgia.”

She nodded firmly, decision made.

“Very well. Let it be known to all Fatui that the traitor in the ranks has been identified as a former harbinger gone rogue, and should be considered exceptionally dangerous, as fitting the ranking of sixth. The suspect is likely capable of mental manipulation to some degree - and on a wide scale, to have affected our entire organization and an Archon. As the actual individual has not been determined yet, any and all suspects should be treated with extreme caution in the course of performing assigned duties.”

“Consider it done, Your Majesty.”

“Do we have any such suspects yet?”

“Yes, ma’am. We have identified only one known individual with the requisite mental capabilities. Sumeru’s Archon is female and does not match the personality profile we have been building, but could potentially have enacted such a thing for a subordinate; as such we are scrutinizing all her personnel carefully.
Three suspects of note are: 

“One Faruzan of Haravatat, linguistics professor - supposedly missing for one hundred years during which there is no record of her. Known to have collaborated with the Traveler.
One Niwa Kazeharu, Buer’s second appointed personal Sage - no known background before appearing in Sumeru, apparently on parole serving some kind of classified sentence in Inazuma for crimes which are also classified - we’re looking into it. Frequently seen with the Traveler both for Sage duties and otherwise.
And one Paimon - no known species or country of origin, no known history before appearing with the Traveler, and almost never leaves the Traveler’s side.

“Other suspect individuals who are not known to have access to such mental capabilities include: 
One Albedo, Chief Alchemist of the Knights of Favonius - reclusive, an inconsistent background, and known interaction with the Traveler. 
And one Shenhe of Liyue - reclusive, nominally a human training with the adepti, only entering recorded history recently, also known to interact with the Traveler.

“There are more, of course,” he continued, “but those are our top five.” 

“Very good, Director,” she said with a regal nod. “Keep me updated. The Fatui’s oaths cannot be so easily forsworn. See that this traitorous Scaramouche is found and returned to us for judgment, whoever they may be.”

“Your Majesty,” he acknowledged with a bow.

“And one more thing, Pierro,” she said as he turned to leave. “Compile a list of suitable candidates for the three empty seats.” 

Chapter Text

No, for his own sanity, he had to believe that there was value in his decisions. That trying to make amends for his sins was not a futile, pointless quest. That someday, somehow, those who had chosen to mold him into an instrument of death would be brought low by the hands they themselves had taught to kill. Not because fate had decreed it so, but because he had chosen to do so.

And with that choice, he could stop their own. Stop them from turning more lives into dust and ruin and ash. Keep them from creating any more Country Destroyers and Fair Ladies and Colleis.

He might have a complicated relationship with the truth, but that was the very reason he knew he was right.

Kazeharu teleported straight back to Aether’s domain after he’d gathered everything he could. He hadn’t been quite careful enough, and one of the researchers had heard the click of his kamera as he was photographing some of the documents that looked to be related to the mechanism - the whole place had gone into lockdown after that, and rather than try to escape through the mass of trigger-happy Fatui, he’d just left. It was too bad he’d had to pass up the opportunity to review more documents - and he wasn’t happy he’d lost his wind tile - but he’d gotten everything they really needed from his excursion.

Aether could sense when people visited his domain, so he’d know that the puppet had finished - or at least retreated. If he was putting up a show of innocence like the wanderer had suggested, he probably wouldn’t be able to return immediately, so he took the opportunity to dismiss his hat and sink into the nearest couch as though he was capable of feeling fatigue. He didn’t feel tired, exactly, but the jarring sense of disrupted - no, it was more destroyed - leyline flow had grated on his senses the whole time he had been in the building. That close to the nail device, it’d felt almost like an unpleasant negative pressure on his mind, and he was honestly grateful for the relief of not gritting his teeth and dealing with it anymore.

He closed his eyes and debated getting up for a cup of tea.

A simple enough task, and he’d certainly appreciate one about now, but for some reason, the kitchen just seemed so much further away than usual, and the weight of his own body sank into the cushions in a way that made even the mere thought of getting back up seem like too much effort. Perhaps something is wrong with me after all, he thought dispassionately. Perhaps defective puppets should not be exposed to the weirdly inverted energy of the odd contraption either.

…Maybe he ought to run an internal scan.

He was still calmly considering that possibility when the door opened and the approach of familiar footsteps told him that Aether was back. He’d start the scan and let it run while they were talking, then.

“I’m happy to report that I was an excellent and helpful citizen today,” the other man said with a hint of laughter in his voice. “I rescued a kitten and helped a nice old grandmother to buy and carry her groceries, all in plain sight of the police.”

“And she gave Paimon cookies afterward!” added another familiar voice.

He turned his head towards their voices with the barest minimum of effort, blinking his eyes open to see them sitting down themselves. “What happened to relaxing at a café?”

“I thought sitting around doing nothing would look more suspicious to be honest, since I’ve been working nonstop since I got here.”

He shifted again, so he had a clear view of the traveler without having to get up. The man really did have very pretty eyes. “You know,” he mumbled, studying the way the light hit that amber iris and turned it to molten honey, “fair enough.” Perhaps he could just lie there and look at Aether and his stunning eyes for a while. That seemed a much more satisfactory option than staring at the backs of his own eyelids.

He realized Aether was talking again, and he’d just been watching the way the man’s lips moved. He wanted to kiss that tiny smile, those lips, trace their soft curves with his tongue and fingers. A shame they were so far away. “What?”

The traveler’s eyebrows furrowed, and his gaze was suddenly sharp and searching. “Are you okay, Haru? You seem… off.”

“Mhm.” He was fine. Probably.

The little menace added cautiously, from where she was hovering by Aether’s side. “Paimon hasn’t seen Wanderer lie down, like… ever.”

“M’good,” he said, flapping a limp hand in their direction. “Was just… a weird space, in there. Fucking bullshit leyline disruption something or other.”

“How about I get you some tea,” the blonde said, his voice suddenly very gentle and calming compared to his usual tone, “and then you can tell us about it when you’re feeling better.”

“I’m fine,” he insisted, still not moving.

“Of course you are,” Aether said, already up and walking to the kitchen. How disappointing, since the wanderer couldn’t see him anymore without sitting up. “I’m only getting you tea because I know you like it. Do you want something too, Pai?”

“Paimon wants juice and more cookies!” she said, wiggling in excitement.

“More cookies?” the other man said, already getting out a plate to put them on. “You’ll turn into a cookie yourself at this rate.”

“Paimon will be a delicious cookie,” she declared, undeterred. “And Paimon will have the most amazing filling!”

“You’d better watch out then,” Kazeharu said, smirking faintly. “If you’re that tasty someone might gobble you all up, and then you’d be gone forever.”

“Wouldn’t be you though,” she said, scrunching her nose up and sticking her tongue out at him. “You don’t even know what tasty is.”

“Neither do you,” he countered. “You just eat anything that has meat or sugar in it - the more the better.”

“Those are tasty!”

“Your tastes suck.”

“Shush, you two,” Aether said, plopping a filled tray down onto the table. “Are you capable of sitting up for your tea, Haru, or do I need to prop you up first?”

“Do I look like I need help?” he said with his customary sarcasm.

He was given a flat, exasperated look. “Yes,” the other man said, pointedly, “yes, you do.”

“You weren’t supposed to answer that,” he grumbled, even as the traveler slipped an arm under his shoulders to lift him back upright. “Really, I’m fine.” 

“Mhmm,” Aether said, ignoring him and settling down next to him with the puppet’s body still leaning against his side. His tea was gently placed in his lap for him to wrap oddly-stiff fingers around. From across the table, Paimon pouted at them, having been left alone with just her cookies and juice, and Kazeharu took the opportunity to snuggle comfortably into the traveler’s side and give her an unrepentant smirk. That earned him a glare, and the little terror scooped up her treats to fly over and join them, claiming Aether’s other side with a determined frown.

“You’re both ridiculous, I hope you know that,” the blonde between them said with an amused huff, pouring his own cup of tea and mixing honey into it. “I’m not a pillow.”

“Pillows don’t talk back,” the wanderer agreed, taking a long sip. “You’d be a terrible pillow.”

Aether laughed next to him, and he could feel the way his chest moved with the sound, in and out in time with the breaths of air. His tea was warm, and soothing, and darkly bitter in the most calming of ways. He could feel his systems churning into action, processing the liquid and turning it into energy that trickled into his limbs and mind. He took another sip, and more energy flowed back into his body, and it slowly dawned on him that maybe he’d just been low on power. He’d felt something similar when he was recovering from the Shouki no Kami debacle, hadn’t he? When he’d used all his divine power fighting and couldn’t even move, at first.

Indeed, checking the scan, his brief stint in that odd powerless zone appeared to have unconsciously altered the flow of his internal power circuits. More power to his mind, less to his limbs - possibly to ward off that bizarre pressure he’d been feeling - and the effect had only continued to multiply the longer he’d left it. He’d know better, for the next time he encountered something like that. For now, he concentrated and rerouted his power again, normalizing the flow, and that strange heaviness finally disappeared.

“Better?” Aether asked from beside him, not missing the way the puppet’s body pressed so close against him relaxed and began to move more fluidly again. 

“Yeah,” he said, shaking one wrist out to test it. “Power in my limbs was low. Hadn’t noticed.”

“What did it?”

Ah, right. The nail. “Found the nail, found the Fatui, found your abyssal gunk, and the machine they’re using them in.”

“Of course the Fatui are involved,” the traveler muttered with a sigh. “I’m not even surprised.”

“As best as I could tell, they’re combining the abyss energy with the nail in some way, and channeling that into the power grid.”

“That sounds…” Aether paused with his mouth open, apparently searching for an appropriate word for the level of risk that might pose, “dangerous,” he concluded finally, if a bit unsatisfactorily. Paimon, previously feigning disinterest, choked on her cookie at that incredible understatement and sprayed crumbs across her lap and the table as she wheezed with laughter.

“You have no idea,” Kazeharu muttered dryly, as the blonde helped brush the crumbs from Paimon’s lap and face. “The space around it was definitely hazardous to mortals - those researchers looked like shit - and it didn’t particularly agree with me either. I could deal with it better next time if I had to, but it was unpleasant, to say the least.”

He pulled out the series of photos he’d taken, separating the close up shots of the nail shard. “Here, this should be enough evidence for the Liyuean Ambassador to file a claim with the Fontainians. The rest of these,” he said, spreading them out on the table, “were things I thought might be useful information. This one, for instance, is a list of known anti-Focalors oceanids, and as you can see a lot of them have been marked captured.”

“Rhodeia,” Aether said, scanning the list. “Escaped, it says. So she must be in hiding. It certainly explains why no one has seen her.”

“I’m more concerned about why they’re capturing them,” the puppet said, finally shifting away from the other man (such a shame, he’d been so comfortable) to sit up properly and tap the photo with an impatient finger. “If they were just removing the prior archon’s familiars, there’d be no need to go to the trouble of capturing them, they could just kill them off.”

“True,” the blonde said, squinting at the smaller, illegible writing at the top of the page. “Was this all you got on that?”

“I didn’t get the chance to actually look through it. All I can tell you is that it was located next to some diagrams for what looked to be a bigger version of the machine they already had running.” He pointed, showing the pictures he’d captured of those same diagrams.

“So basically,” Aether said, frowning down at the array of pictures, “we know for sure that they’re using the piece of the nail to produce useable energy, that it affects the space around it negatively, and they’re planning on building an even bigger version of the device using captured oceanids somehow, which would likely affect an even larger area.”

“Correct,” Kazeharu said, taking another long sip of his tea. “And the Fatui have something to do with it, if they didn’t start the project in the first place. If Liyue can reclaim the shard of the nail, that will at least stop the current reaction I saw from happening, but that wouldn’t do anything about all the abyss energy they’ve gathered. That stuff still isn’t good for mortals, even without their weird machine.”

“Still,” the other man said, leaning back and draining his cup, “we know a lot more about disposing of abyssal energy than we do celestial. Let’s deal with one problem at a time.”

He stood up, dusting his hands off and picking up the photos of the nail shard, caught in its mount with energy flowing out of it. “I’ll get these to the Liyuean Embassy and let them take it from there.”

“Yelan says Childe hasn’t been seen for days,” was the first thing the puppet said when he slammed open the office door the next evening.

The traveler froze. “Do you think…?”

“It’s definitely suspect,” he said, reaching over Aether to take the cup the man’d been pouring of his just-brewed tea. “There’s no telling just when they took him, either, if that’s what happened. Anything odd on your end?”

“Tea thief,” the blonde protested, without any true venom. “It’s not even black or bitter, it’s chamomile.” He sighed and began pouring another cup, since his had mysteriously vanished. “Well, the Snezhnayan Embassy received a new diplomat today. Sandrone herself was there to greet her. Lots of guards and ceremony - probably someone high-ranking, but I didn’t recognize her. I’m obviously not welcome to get close enough to hear anything, so that’s all I know.”

“What’d she look like?”

“Long black hair, mask like white latticework, wings attached to her headpiece-”

Kazeharu nearly choked on his stolen tea. “WHAT?”

“…Bad?”

“Aether, that’s Columbina. The only reason Dottore is ranked higher than her is because he can gang up on people by himself. In terms of raw individual strength, she’s more dangerous.” He added with as much urgency as he could convey, “If she’s there, you have to promise me you’ll be careful. She’ll keep smiling prettily even as she’s covered in your blood and rips your limbs off or disembowels you, and then she’ll sing your corpse a gentle lullaby to see your spirit off. She’s impossible to read.”

Aether paused, setting down his tea kettle and turning to face the puppet directly, giving him his full attention. “You actually seem worried about her.”

“If they’ve sent Columbina, something big is happening,” he said, emphatically tapping a finger against the desk. “There’s no question. Focalors is going to be in their sights soon if she’s not already.”

“Childe said they weren’t in the final stages of any plans right now,” the traveler pointed out.

“Either he’s wrong and didn’t know it, or they’re moving up their timetable. The Damselette is not a piece that the Tsaritsa moves lightly,” he said. How to make the other man understand just how serious this was? “She’s probably there to counter you specifically, since you keep getting in the way, dumbass,” Kazeharu said, poking the man in the chest, hard.

“Not that I’ve actually managed to prevent the losses of any gnoses, for all my efforts,” the blonde sighed, rubbing gently at the sore spot, before folding his arms in frustration.

“They wouldn’t remember my failure as a harbinger’s loss,” the wanderer said, pointedly, “but they know that you beat the eighth and Sandrone is only one rank higher than that. The third, on the other hand…”

Aether paused, as if remembering something. “Tartaglia said that if their investigation on you kept turning up nothing, the Tsaritsa herself would get involved.”

“Fuck,” he hissed, in sudden, sinking realization. “Fuck. Are they moving early because I tried to warn him? Oh, fuck. This is my fault.”

“Woah, now,” the traveler said, eyebrows rising in concern, “you don’t know that-”

“No, Ae, it makes too much sense. I send the warning, and suddenly Childe disappears, Columbina is dispatched, and Capitano is mobilizing over in Natlan?” His hands crept up into his dark hair and clutched at the fine strands in horror. “Fuck.”

“…maybe you’re right,” the blonde said, setting down his cup and giving the puppet’s arm a gentle squeeze, “but they were still planning to do all of this already, even if they’re doing it slightly earlier. It’s not your fault, Haru.”

“You’re a point of contact with me and they know that,” the wanderer said, ignoring Aether’s reassurances, “so they’re going to be watching you carefully. There’s only two gnoses left to take, and with you in Fontaine, they’re probably going to try and take advantage of that to move on Natlan while you’re not there - and Columbina is there to protect the plan in Fontaine because you are there…”

“You know, since there are only two locations to worry about right now - you could go to Natlan ahead of me if you wanted to try and head off whatever Capitano is doing.”

“And leave you to face Columbina alone?” he said, turning back sharply to face the blonde, ornaments jingling loudly with the sudden movement, mouth twisted in a disdainful sneer. “I don’t give a damn about the other archons, if they can’t handle themselves that’s their problem.”

“Oh,” Aether said slyly, “so you give a damn about me then?”

“Tch.” He folded his arms with a huff and said, tipping his head back haughtily to avoid looking directly at the traveler, “You’re slightly less annoying than the other mongrels out there. Don’t let it go to your head.”

Judging by the way the other man’s shoulders relaxed and he straightened almost imperceptibly, that warning flew right past him, as his face lit up with a bright, incredulous smile, golden eyes wide with delight.

“H-hey,” the wanderer said, feeling his face start to heat, “I told you not to let it go to your head, idiot.”

That delight continued to beam right at him as the other man said happily, “How could I not, when you’ve just given me such high praise?”

“Anyway,” he said hurriedly, turning away and refusing to look at the blonde again, “I’m sticking around until the third leaves. Period.”

“Alright, alright,” Aether said with a faint grin, “If you insist. Unfortunately, if you’re intending to guard me, the Liyuean delegation has their meeting for discussing the stolen nail fragment scheduled for tomorrow morning, and I’ve been asked to witness as a neutral party - you won’t be allowed in.”

“Hah," he said, turning back. "As if they could stop me. No one even needs to know I’m there.”

“Don’t you dare. Nahida would be the one that got in trouble if they caught you, and I’ll be there to see everything anyway.”

“…I am forced to admit that you have a valid point,” he muttered after a moment. “Damn it all, things were easier when I didn’t give a shit about anything.”

“Maybe, but some things in this world really are worth caring about,” Aether said, giving him that sweet smile that he saved just for Kazeharu.

He could feel his face grow even redder, and he ducked beneath the brim of his hat. The other man wielded his sincerity like a weapon, sometimes, and he hated how effective it was. There was silence between them for a moment, tension palpable in the air, and then the traveler broke it to change the topic, asking softly, “Are you sure you don’t want to try to look for Tartaglia?”

The wanderer raised his head back up just enough to stare at Aether from under the brim of his hat. “If they took him without a fight - which they did, or we’d have heard something earlier - he’s already back in the heart of the motherland and in Dottore’s clutches by now. It’d be suicide to go after him, even for me. Even for you.”

“They need him alive for their experiments, right? How bad could it really be?” As soon as the words left his mouth Aether snapped it shut with a grimace. “No, wait, don’t tell me, you’re going to say that it can always be worse than we think.”

“That’s because it’s true, idiot. It can and will be worse. I don’t know how yet, but it will be, and with Dottore death isn’t always the end of it.”

“What about the kids?”

“Same thing, if they’re still in Snezhnaya. I was never allowed near his family’s house, as a potential threat to them, and you haven’t been up there at all, meaning neither of us can teleport. Without some way to get there and back before we’re spotted, we’d be dead meat.”

“We’ll just have to hope that Childe managed to get them to Liyue like he wanted, then,” Aether said, one hand curling into a fist at the thought of being unable to do anything.

“You can’t save everyone, Aether,” he said quietly, reaching out one hand hesitantly, then more surely, to rest comfortingly on his shoulder. “Not everyone gets a happy ending. I’d know.”

“That doesn’t mean I won’t try, Haru,” the other man said, just as quietly. “If there’s one thing I can always do, it’s keep trying.”

Chapter Text

He’d already gone through all that pain. There was no need for anyone else to experience it, too, when he could simply remove the cause. Why should someone else have to pay in their own anguish for his mistakes? One more drop of pain in his ocean was nothing to him, and everything to those who had not yet been tainted by it. Better for it to be him. Better to choose to fight back, to protect those who could still make their choices unburdened by fear.

They didn’t have to thank him. They didn’t even need to know. It was enough that he knew. And he knew that he could make the choices that no one wanted to, because it had to be done. He’d ended lives for no reason, before; let him end them for a better cause, then.

Something was different, today. They’d gotten up early to get in their customary sparring match before the meeting, but the match was taking an unexpectedly long time - the wanderer flawlessly dodged every attack Aether sent his way, and the blonde swordsman was beginning to feel the burn in his arms and legs. Normally, by this point, they’d have fought each other to a draw - five direct hits each with no surrender was their agreed on cut-off point. If this kept up, he was eventually going to reach his limit, and the triumphant glint in those blue eyes told him the other man knew it too.

And then it happened. Tired muscles reacted just slightly too slow, and his sword was flying out of his grip as one inhuman hand planted itself firmly on his chest and the other on his neck, driving him straight backwards into the wall. His back hit the rock behind him so hard air escaped him in a desperate wheeze, and for a moment he wondered if he’d broken something. Only the puppet’s strong hand digging into his torso prevented him from falling the short drop to the ledge below.

“Do you yield?” Haru asked, a victorious smirk slowly spreading across that ethereal face, dark wind-blown hair swaying gently at the whims of his swirling anemo energies. The intricate halo crowning his head seemed at that moment merely the requisite accent worthy of such a compelling presence. “Well, Aether?”

He found his breath finally. “I do. I… I yield.”

The smile widened. “As the winner,” the wanderer murmured, leaning in close without finishing the sentence, as his intense indigo eyes with the airy residue of anemo glowing in their depths stared into the other’s amber-gold ones. His first hand pressed Aether’s chest even more firmly against the mountainside, alien heart fluttering against that artificial palm, and the other left his neck to cup one cheek, thumb tracing his lips, “I think perhaps,” he leaned in even closer, close enough that the traveler’s breath caught in anticipation as he felt the cool, inhuman breath on his face, “I’ll claim a prize.” Was that a reference to their first match, that the man had lost so long ago?

Haru pressed his lips to his opponent’s with all the relentless fervor of a starving man finally digging in to a bountiful feast, and Aether kissed him back with everything he had, all want and teeth and tongue. For all their loving, teasing words, they had both been waiting for this, for someone to make the first move. Neither had any intention of abandoning the desperate, ardent kiss now that they had finally, finally reached this point - where they had both stopped denying that their appreciation for the other was nothing close to platonic anymore and were acting on it. The hand not holding Aether up slid down his chest, fingers snaking their way under the edge of his shirt, tracing the star on his chest and the line of his ribs, while the traveler’s own hands pulled at that loose haori, freeing those damnably tempting shoulders from their prison so he could stroke the smooth muscles and perfect, delicate collarbone without interference.

They were interrupted by a familiar high-pitched voice, calling out from somewhere below them. “Traveler…? Wanderer….? You have company…!”

Kazeharu only gripped the traveler’s shirt tighter, leaning into the kiss with a possessive, rumbling growl. The sound sent a thrill straight up Aether’s spine and he dug his fingers into that impossibly sheer bodysuit, desperately wanting to tear it off and knowing he couldn’t if they wanted to retain any of their dignity when they were inevitably found. The hand that wasn’t holding him up dropped to his hip anyway, caressing the curve of his ass before gripping his leg and pulling it up against the other’s side, making room for the wanderer to press his full body up against the blonde’s, grinding against the developing ache in his groin. He couldn’t help himself; he let out a tiny moan into the other man’s mouth. “H-haru-” Teeth tugged at his bottom lip in a harsh grip as he heard a breathless “Fuck, yes,” in response.

The voice was getting closer. “I know you’re around here somewhere…! Paimon saw you flying around here.”

“Dammit, Paimon,” Aether gasped as he pulled away and let his head fall back against the rock wall behind him, panting for breath.

The two of them stared at each other, faces flushed and breath ragged. Then Haru stepped back, landing and releasing Aether, letting their feet settle back onto the ground. His hat reappeared as he did, and he tugged the brim over his face in that so-familiar movement, though it wasn’t nearly enough to hide the bright red of his blush. “Perhaps - perhaps we ought to - continue this some other time,” he muttered, examining the ground beneath his feet as though it was suddenly the most fascinating thing in the world.  “Preferably somewhere with a locking door.”

Aether laughed breathlessly, and replied, “Oh, definitely,” then quirked an eyebrow at him, amused that he could simultaneously be so aggressive and so shy about everything. “How about tonight, then? Your room.”

Before the puppet could say anything in reply, Paimon popped out from around the corner. “There you are,” she said, exasperated, not noticing their discomfiture. “Charlotte says that the Liyuean delegation is already waiting on you, Traveler - you’re gonna be late if you don’t leave like, right now!”

“Ah,” the wanderer said, face still tinged with pink. “Well, then. I guess I’ll be feeding Paimon, today?”

“Looks like it,” Aether agreed, brushing off his shirt and dismissing his sword. “I didn’t realize we’d been fighting that long. I’ll have to apologize when I get there,” he said, giving the pair a smile and disappearing in a swirl of air.

Time to watch the show.

Pushing open the door when he got back, later, he was immediately greeted by the two faces at the dining table swiveling towards him, Paimon perking up and Haru offering a sly grin. “Well?” the puppet said, casually leaning back in his chair. “How’d it go?”

“They didn’t even blink when the representatives gave them the full repatriation request,” he said, annoyed. “The official stance is apparently that they had no idea it had been stolen from Liyue, and their suppliers must have been duped into thinking it was from Dragonspine - and of course once found the ‘actual’ culprits will be tried,” Aether continued, hand rising to his head in exasperation. “And then they handed it over cheerfully as though nothing had happened and they weren’t planning on using it to power their entire city - and they absolutely could have used that fact to spin it that the Qixing were being cruel for not letting them find another temporary solution, but didn’t.”

“So they clearly don’t need it anymore,” Haru said, offering him an unexpected (but very welcome) cup of coffee, honey and cream already spooned into it just the way he liked. “But they wouldn’t have spent all that effort on such an expensive new power system for nothing.”

The traveler could only shrug, taking a long sip. “Maybe they’re going to try and move the nail from Dragonspine?”

The response was a dubious snort. “I doubt Mondstadt would care if they did - hell, maybe the leylines would heal faster and the sheer chill would disperse if it was gone. But that might have been easier in the first place, so who knows what they’re thinking.”

“I’m honestly more concerned about the massive amount of abyssal power they had stored with the thing” Aether said. “With the nail shard gone, their auras won’t cancel each other out anymore. Celestia would have to be blind not to notice such a huge concentration of it, and they’re not exactly known for being fans of the Abyss.”

“The way they gave up the sliver so easily,” the wanderer said thoughtfully, tapping his fingers against his chin, “it’s almost like they wanted the essence to be visible. If I didn’t know better, looking at everything they’ve done, I’d think they’re trying to bait Celestia into something. That would be exceedingly dangerous, though, considering they’re working from a major population center.”

“Maybe they want to try Celestia in the courts!” Paimon said cheerfully, surfacing briefly from her rice pudding to join the conversation. “It’s in Fontaine’s borders right now, you know. If it did something maybe they think they could make them show up and accept punishment.”

Haru said dryly, “I honestly doubt that anyone would be stupid enough to think they could enforce local laws on a traveling, floating island, that has a habit of spiking giant nails into various civilizations to end them and twist the surrounding leylines for centuries afterward.”

“If anything,” Aether said with a roll of his eyes, “they just want Celestia to hand-deliver them a new nail for their power system-”

The three of them were silent as those words hung in the air.

“You know,” the traveler said, hastily draining the rest of his coffee, “suddenly I think I should get back to Fontaine and check on things again. Just, you know, a hunch.”

“Yeah,” the puppet said, mouth twisting in concern. “Yeah, I think you’re right …and maybe I should go too. Fontaine’s too close to Sumeru for that idea to be comfortable.”

“Paimon is coming too! She has a sword now!”

“No,” Aether said, reaching out to pull her into a quick hug, ruffling her hair fondly. “I’ve got a more important task for you, Paimon. I need you to go directly to the Qixing - Ninguang, Keqing, Ganyu, somebody - and tell them that we’re about to have a crisis on our hands. Fontaine is going to need help; medical supplies, food, temporary shelters - all of it. Liyue is the center of trade and will be able to mobilize resources far more quickly than any other nation.”

“O-oh,” the little sprite said, stiffening in dread against his chest. Anxiety bled into her voice as she asked, “By myself?”

“I know you can do it, moonlet. You’re just as well-known as me, and Haru and I have to go try to stop this from happening, okay?”

“Okay,” she said, tiny face scrunching up in determination. “Just wait, Paimon will be the best at warning the Qixing.”

“I know you will. You can tell me all about it once this is over, alright?” And in the meantime, she’d be safe from any Celestial wrath they encountered.

“Right!” she said, clenching her fists and disappearing in a swirl of stardust. Moments later, the house in the teapot grew completely silent as the other two disappeared right after her. 

The pair materialized into a developing war zone. The plaza had been cleared, police and Fatui automatons forming lines to block the streets and guard the waypoint. Sandrone herself was monitoring her precious automatons, checking each one carefully. Behind their lines, the crystallized abyss essence that Haru had seen in his brief raid on the research facility had been carefully arranged in the center of the tiled stone surrounding the Hydro Archon herself, in her full regalia and surrounded by globes of water - globes which on closer examination were nothing less than the captured oceanids she’d been collecting, cowed and restrained.

Above, the massive floating island that had been haunting Fontaine’s outskirts for years now was silently, implacably approaching the very same point in space, positioning itself directly over whatever insane plan the archon was attempting to carry out.

If it was moving, they were already too late. 

“Traveler,” said one of the officers guarding the waypoint, as they shifted to block their path. “We’ve been expecting you. Her Eminence kindly requests that you do not interfere in the affairs of the Fontainian government.”

“The Fontainian government is going to destroy the whole damn city,” Haru snapped, before Aether could say anything. “Whatever she’s planning is just going to get people killed.”

“On the contrary…” the officer hesitated, attempting to place what form of address he ought to use with this unfamiliar and unexpected companion of the traveler, eventually settling on, “…sir. The general populace has been evacuated from the city center already, and the outer districts are being emptied as we speak. We anticipate only minor damage to the surroundings as Justice Focalors is on hand to prevent any true destruction, but have taken extra precautions as a safety measure.”

“Haru,” the traveler said very quietly, under his breath, “you’re faster; go see if they’re telling the truth. Feel free to help evacuate while you’re at it.”

“Hmph,” was all the other man said, but he lifted off quickly enough to knock the startled waypoint guards off balance, before they could stop him, and shot off towards the outer city without protest. They both knew he wouldn’t be able to do much should the island really attack, so evacuating people was the best use of his skills - that didn’t mean he had to like it.

The looming shadow of Celestia slowed to a halt, and for one long, eternal moment they all stared up at the ominous mass of rock hanging in the air above them.

And then there was a glint of light from the bottom of the island, and everything happened all at once.

“Remember your orders,” he heard a voice shout, as twisting ropes of water stretched from the bound oceanids towards the archon at the center of the disaster. “When the nail drops, retreat!”

“Focalors!” Aether called - no, screamed - as the police blockade dissolved, dashing across the swiftly emptying plaza towards the figure channeling energy through herself from the contained oceanids and up towards the falling nail that Celestia had just launched. He was too late, again, the last of their watery forms dissipating into raw elemental energy and streaming into the god to be launched directly at Celestia.

“Traveler,” the archon greeted him coolly. “I suppose it was too much to ask for you to stay uninvolved after all.”

“You deliberately baited one of the most dangerous things known to man with a huge concentration of abyssal energy and captured your predecessor’s familiars to fuel your own strength - what makes you think I could ever ignore something overtly dangerous and cruel like that?!” he spat towards that unmoving back.

“Sometimes sacrifices must be made for the happiness and security of my people - of all Fontaine, Traveler.” She was so calm, so certain she was in control of the situation, and Aether couldn’t help but wonder how she could be so frustratingly naive, even if she was so much younger than him. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand, what with your detachment from any true connections. Always moving about, never staying in one place long enough to do more than throw the land into chaos. A pity, really.”

Aether’s hand clenched at his side, at the callous assumption that he was incapable of caring for people he didn’t personally know.

“Fortunately for us, I am wise enough to know that to truly understand one’s people, one must immerse oneself in their lives,” she continued, massive amounts of hydro energy still spiraling up to block the falling pillar. “And I know that my people desire nothing more than comfort and safety; thus it falls on me to undertake any hardships or difficulties in their stead. I will do whatever it takes to see it done, Traveler, and these oceanids were merely shying away from the duty given them by my predecessor. For Fontaine’s sake, their strength must be reappropriated and used as intended.”

“You’ve endangered your citizens and your entire city if something goes wrong,” he said, gesturing at the buildings around them. “No matter what you think, you can’t have accounted for every possible variable!”

“They are not in danger; I am here. Even should there be a problem, I will be the one to bear the brunt of the mistake,” she replied, still confident. Then she added, with a hint of disdain, “If you were actually that concerned about their lives, you would help me capture this nail before it hits.”

He hissed under his breath, unable to dispute that point. Her water was slowing the nail, but not enough. If it hit, that would be the disaster of Sal Vindagnyr visited directly on another innocent city, at the very hands of the archon meant to protect them. And so he added his energy to hers, pulling in the air around them and swirling it into her rising stream of water, doubling, then tripling its strength through the ongoing reaction.

The twisting column of water and air still only slowed the nail, its point slicing through the opposing forces as though they were nothing. Aether hastily redirected his efforts into a shield instead, the strongest shield he could make courtesy of Zhongli, and shuddered as the deadly pillar impacted the surface almost immediately. He could feel the strain of holding it shoot all the way down his outstretched arms and into his back, his feet skidding a little under the immense pressure. The hydro archon switched tactics immediately as she saw his efforts working - twining her own watery shield through the elemental energies of his own, each brush of hydro against geo sparking elemental crystallization across the entire dome. Aether reached out and melded those crystals back into his own shield, a third layer of elemental force holding back the whistling keen of the nail that still threated to shatter the makeshift barrier altogether.

“It’s slowing,” Focalors shouted to him over the overpowering sounds of the nail and the shield’s constant cracking and crystallizing and reforming. “We only need to hold a little longer, until we can capture it as planned.”

“This was a stupid plan,” he called back through gritted teeth.

“But it worked,” she laughed, gazing up at the nail as though it held the answers to the universe. “It worked, Traveler! With this, we can-”

The laughter died in her throat as something flashed brightly at the base of the floating island looming above. Another high-pitched keening replaced the sound that had just died from the nail they had nearly managed to halt midair.

A second nail.

Two nails.

Another gleaming herald of destruction was speeding through the air towards them, spelling their doom. Celestia had never dropped more than one before, and somehow it had never occurred to anyone that that could be possible. If they could drop two, could they drop three? Four? How many nails until the shield shattered and all their efforts were for nothing?

“That seems to be my cue,” said a soft, demure voice behind them, and beside the traveler Focalors gasped in shock, her body seizing up as a dainty hand was plunged directly into her back. Time slowed, and he could see every minute change in her expression as the pain of her gnosis being forcibly ripped from her echoed through her body. He started to cry out, began to shift a hand from maintaining the shield to block the offending grasp, but everything moved so, so slowly, and he could see every particle of the void formed in her back that drifted out with the elaborate construct firmly gripped in yet another harbinger’s hand.

Then the archon was collapsing to her knees, her watery barrier dissipating with the shock, and the force of the first nail that was still not quite stopped was bearing down on him alone, leaving him shuddering from the impact. He couldn’t move, not without dropping his barrier, the last one remaining, and letting both nails through.

“Well then,” Columbina said, delicately cradling the gnosis against her cheek before turning away with a gentle, uncaring smile. “Best of luck with that, my dears.” 

And then she was gone, the displaced air where she had been a second earlier rushing in to fill the gaps.

There wasn’t time to think about it, not with a second nail barreling down at the capitol city when he was still barely holding back the first. “Get out, Focalors,” he snapped, voice cracking with the strain. “You can’t help anything now, not with two nails on their way - I’ll try to contain the blast, instead.”

She didn’t say anything, hand still clutching at her chest where the gnosis had rested, eyes staring blankly.

“Focalors,” he said again, more harshly this time, and her head jerked up to look at him, at the first nail still trying to drive through his now singular barrier, at the second screaming down to join it. “Get. Out.” Out of the corner of his eye he could see her open her mouth to protest, before her face tightened in a grimace and her hand clawed the stone at her side in frustration. Then she disappeared herself.

That left him as the only person in the direct path of destruction. There wasn’t time for him to move, to get out of the way - the best he could do was throw up a flimsy personal shield, spending all his attention and energy on reinforcing the sides of the dome he’d created, preparing to channel the strength from the top into the sides as well. He only had to last long enough to prevent the shockwave from flattening the rest of the city, and he’d at least have prevented the complete destruction of a nation.

Haru will be disappointed in me, he thought with a sad smile, as the second nail hit the barrier next to the first, closing his eyes and dropping the top of the dome to reinforce the sides again, and again. I wish I could be there to hear him tell me off, afterward. But there was no chance for that, even for a farewell, since Haru’d been heading to the outskirts to evacuate the citizens with that blinding speed of his.

He could hear the sound of both nails approaching now, the first accelerating again to match the second’s pace. The air was shuddering around him with the incoming displacement and he reinforced the geo barrier one more time before they hit.

Faintly, in the seconds before impact, he heard a distant voice scream his name. Not his clan name, but his personal name, a ragged, terrified “Aether,” and he regretted knowing that the other man would have to see him take the hit. He wouldn’t have wanted that, but at least Haru would be safe, outside the barrier. It was sturdy enough to last for a time even after he was crushed, to contain the worst of the damage.

It would be interesting to learn if this was something he could survive, in his weakened state. But, if not, at least this was a good way to go out. He offered another silent apology to the puppet for leaving him like this, as the noise of his impending doom grew to a deafening roar.

And then there were arms around him, knocking him back and away, without regard for the way his ribs cracked under the impact and his breath left him in stuttering gasps.

He wouldn’t, he thought in rising panic. He-!

The overwhelming noise abruptly stopped, the two of them hitting the ground together and sliding to an abrupt, sprawling, undignified halt against something that felt an awful lot like a tree trunk.

There hadn’t been any trees in the plaza, his mind supplied unhelpfully, as he gasped and wheezed for air that his lungs couldn’t provide, the pain of having his wind knocked out of him causing bright sparks to dance under his eyelids and tears to form at the corners of his eyes.

Distantly, he felt the geo barrier he’d spent all his strength on take the double blow, straining against the heavy force and redirecting it upwards, away from the rest of the city, before shattering.

He hoped it had been enough.

Chapter Text

No, he’d make his own fate, gods be damned. Even Buer and her careful, gentle manipulations were just another form of control exerted over him by someone who ultimately wasn’t him and didn’t know exactly what he wanted. (Never mind that Buer came damn close to knowing, and sometimes read him better than he knew himself, it was still the meddling of a separate entity.) He tolerated it, because she meant well, and because she always backed down when he truly objected to something - the choice in the end was still his.

That was the important part.

Existing was quite painful, at the moment.

Faintly, through the ringing in his ears, he heard a familiar harsh voice growl at him and felt the weight sitting on top of him shift. “You,” it said. “You stupid. FUCKING. IDIOT of a bleeding heart.” It was so good to hear that anger again, that barely contained rage that he’d thought for a brief moment he was going to lose to the whims of fate.

“If you ever do anything like that again I promise I will hunt you down and murder you myself,” the voice snarled, over shuddering breaths, “and not only will it be so fucking brutal that no one will be able to recognize you, I’ll tear your corpse to so many pieces that no one will ever find the body when I’m finally done with you.”

He felt something wet drip onto his face, and he realized the shuddering breaths were because Haru was crying. His own lungs were slowly starting to work again, breath creaking against the injured ribs the puppet had cracked in his panic, and he managed to slit his eyes open just enough to see the blurred face hovering over him through his own tears. The wavering sight was enough for him to offer a tiny crooked smile and a wheezing, “Glad to see you again,” because he’d definitely thought he wasn’t going to for a little bit there.

A balled fist hit his chest, hard, and he coughed out another wheezing breath as the puppet snarled at him with a broken voice, “I thought - I thought. You were going to - to die, dumbass.” He punctuated each phrase with another blow to his battered chest. “It’d be a stupid. fucking. way. For someone so - so impossibly clever - and strong - and perfect - to go out - b-before you even finish your search for that goddamn asshole that stole your beautiful wings-”

A fond smile crept its way onto his face, and he reached up a trembling hand to cup the other man’s cheek, wiping away some of the tears with his thumb as gently as he could. “I love you too, Haru,” he said softly. It was the only thing he could say to that continuing rant.

The puppet froze, tears still carving tracks down his rapidly flushing face.

His other hand crept up to cradle the other cheek, both thumbs smoothing away the oddly cool liquid spilling from those perfectly crafted eyes. “I’m okay,” he murmured into the sudden stillness. “It’s okay, Haru. I’m here. You caught me, love.”

The wanderer’s mouth worked silently for a moment, seeking something, anything, to say to all of that.

“I am merely holding up my end of the agreement,” Haru huffed finally, a flush creeping up his face as he folded his arms and turned away, determinedly not looking at the traveler he was still sitting on. “No thanks to you, asshole.” Aether noted with amusement that he hadn’t bothered to actually deny the implication of his earlier words.

“I’m glad you did,” he said quietly, slowly sitting up, wincing as his ribs protested. The familiar grounds of his domain surrounded them, and he realized that the puppet must have thrown them inside, rather than trying to take the time to teleport out properly. “I didn’t really want to find out if I could live through that or not.”

“There was a question?” Kazeharu said, turning back to eye him in shock.

“If I wasn’t sealed, I definitely could’ve,” he said with a helpless shrug. “Admittedly it would’ve hurt, but I’d have lived. I just don’t know exactly where I am compared to that right now. Things are too different here for me to have a real basis to judge against.”

Haru gave a short nod, after a moment. “In that case, I will consider forgiving you for almost dying, if you thought you might live. But-” he snarled, emotional walls snapping back up around him, “don’t you dare pull something like that again without me around. I almost-” his breath caught slightly, before he continued with a quaver in his voice, “I almost didn’t reach you in time.”

“You’re so much faster than I realized,” Aether said with a hint of awe, pulling him into a hug, ribs announcing their displeasure with a twinge of pain. “When I heard you call my name, I thought for sure you were too far away, and all my attention was on keeping the shield at full strength…”

“I had to go over the damn thing, you know,” the puppet grumbled, leaning into the unexpected embrace after stiffly tolerating it for a second. “I’d’ve been there sooner if it wasn’t in the way.”

“You still made it, though,” the traveler said softly into the smooth dome of fine dark hair tucked against his shoulder, pressing a light kiss to the central point the wanderer's hair sprouted from. The other man shuddered slightly, a maelstrom of conflicting emotions pouring in through the touch of Aether’s lips against his scalp. “I’m impressed, as well as grateful.”

“But,” he added, feeling he’d finally caught his breath after the near miss, “I think we need to go back and see what happened. Two nails… won’t have been good, any way we look at it.”

Haru sighed against his shoulder, hands tightening against the traveler’s back, before he pulled back just enough to close his eyes and touch his lips to Aether’s once again - slowly, gently this time, a tender confession of relief passing between them unspoken. Then he reluctantly let go and leaned back to stand up. “You’re right,” was all he said, offering the blonde his hand and pulling him to his feet. “Who knows how far out this will affect things. Buer will have my head if this reaches Sumeru.”

The pillars were weeping.

That was the only way Kazeharu could think to describe it. Water trickled from every crack and crevice in the two lone columns standing silent sentinel over the ruin of the plaza, already drowned in over a foot of water in just the short time since they’d struck. Above, Celestia remained unmoved and unmoving, seemingly satisfied with the result of the second nail after the first had almost failed. All traces of abyssal energy had vanished, and the puppet could feel the same oddly dead space surrounding the two pillars that he’d sensed around the strange device. But this one was much, much larger.

“This is the same thing I felt from their machine,” he said quietly to the traveler, standing at his side scanning their surroundings in dismay. “It seems much stronger, though.”

“Considering the amount of abyssal energy that was wiped out here, that would make sense,” Aether said, a faint green barrier pulsing softly around his ribcage the only sign that he’d been injured. “The sliver of a nail would produce only a fraction of what a full nail would, and here there are two.”

The plaza itself had suffered the worst of the damage, thanks to the traveler’s shield, but it hadn’t prevented the surrounding buildings from being devastated as well. Ruined architecture sprawled out in every direction, the closest having been nearly flattened by the impact, while those further back still clung to some semblance of structure. All of them, as far as the eye could see, were drowning in the rising water spilled by the celestial pillars, liquid creeping across the exposed floors of the inner rooms and seeping into the basement chambers drop by drop.

“How far do you think the water will rise?” he murmured softly to the other man as they waded hurriedly towards the remnants of the building he’d infiltrated just a few days earlier.

“Hard to know,” was the quiet reply, “None of the nails have done the same thing to the area they strike, but they’ve all twisted the local leylines to do it, so I suppose it would make sense that an area so rich in hydro would have a reaction like this.”

“If there were people trapped in these buildings, anyone on the lower levels will have drowned already,” he said, pointing out the obvious.

“Do you think that likely?” Aether asked, glancing towards him solemnly. “You must’ve gotten some idea of how the evacuations were going before everything happened.”

“It was piecemeal,” he said, stopping at the edge of what had once been a canal, but was now simply a deeper channel in the lake. “The more affluent areas were their first priority, from what I saw - the poorer neighborhoods were an afterthought.”

“As they always were, in Fontaine,” the traveler muttered, frowning. “That tells me that the areas with the least structural stability and the most people were probably not evacuated fully, if at all, and at best there will be a significant number of casualties there - and at worst it’ll be a catastrophic loss of life that could leave entire swathes of the city as graveyards.”

“I’d agree with that assessment,” the puppet said with a nod, jumping across the canal with a noisy splash. “The central part of the city is going to be uninhabitable for some time, and depending on how far the water spreads even the outskirts might be compromised. The entire population of the city - what’s left of it, anyway - is now essentially a group of refugees.”

He scanned the building’s shattered remains, then turned back. “Help me look for the lab,” he told Aether. He needed to see what had happened to the original machine; needed to confirm that it hadn’t been removed to somewhere else where they could start again with another sliver of a nail and a trickle of abyssal energy. The rubble was thick, and it was hard to tell just where exactly in the building they were, but the two of them persevered, lifting chunks of wood and plaster and steel to examine the underlying debris.

“Haru,” Aether’s voice said from behind him. “Look at this.” He held out a small white object, clearly worse for wear after the destruction, ragged and pockmarked. “Isn’t this yours?”

He held out his hand, and the blonde passed it over. The battered wind tile in his palm, lacquer chipped and scratched, back mostly missing and cracks running through the underlying ivory, was a disturbing reminder of something he’d been trying not to think about. 

That tile could have been Aether, if he’d been any slower.

“Where was it?” he asked, folding it into his fingers and gripping it tightly as though it might run away, and the traveler pointed. “There’s no guarantee that it stayed where I left it, but if it’s anywhere close…” he turned towards the plaza, orienting himself around the path he remembered taking that day.

“Here,” he said, propelling himself over the debris with a burst of anemo. “It should be around here somewhere.” The search resumed, and this time they found it - or the remains of it, anyway.

“Good,” the traveler said, examining the pulverized mechanism. “We won’t need to worry about any repeats of today, for the moment. That’s a relief.”

Kazeharu nodded. “Survivors, now? Or do you want to go looking for the evacuees, first? Focalors is with them - her sudden appearance at the waypoint was how I knew to go looking for you.”

“Survivors,” Aether said, without hesitation, already turning to head out into the rest of the city. “From what you said, we already know there were a lot of people left behind in the city, and the longer they’re trapped, the worse their chances are. The archon can wait. Losing her gnosis won’t kill her.”

“If only,” the wanderer muttered under his breath, summoning his halo and rising to hover above the surface of the water. “Let’s go.”

They spent hours scouring the devastated city, finding as many corpses floating in the still rising water as they did survivors huddling in and under broken furniture and fixtures. Many of them were injured, and even more were panic-stricken or petrified by fear. The strange pressure exerted by the void in the leylines wasn’t doing them any favors either, rendering weaker people unconscious and forcing them to be carried. Just as they’d feared, the poorer areas hadn’t withstood the blast as well as the ones with better construction, and a majority of the buildings they approached were so unstable that they could collapse at any time - Aether’s geo constructs were the only reason they were able to safely enter them.

They’d also encountered a few rescue teams mounted by the surviving military and police forces near the outer edges of the city, and hydro vision holders dutifully holding back and redirecting the flood as well as they could, but despite their tangible relief at seeing Aether alive and well, he refused to make an appearance at the developing refugee camps for reassurance when there were people he could be saving. Still, though, there was only so much either of them could do, and the waning daylight told them that they had a deadline. Without enough light, there’d be no way to see the ruined buildings well enough to definitively avoid toppling them onto anyone inside by accident - meaning they’d have to stop searching. 

When night dropped, so would the temperature - and people still trapped in the water would be in real danger of hypothermia. That meant that pyro users would be needed most urgently after dark, both for light and for heat, and neither of them qualified.

“I’m going to head to the refugee camps now,” Aether said to the wanderer, as they deposited their last rescuee on the nearest boat in the near-total darkness of what was now definitely night. “I might not be much help in the search right now, but I can at least use what little healing skills I’ve picked up to treat injuries.”

Kazeharu clicked his tongue in frustration. “I’d go with you, but I can’t heal anyway, and I’m going to have to make a full report to Buer,” he said, folding his arms angrily. “I’ve already given her the basics while we were searching, but she’s going to need to know exactly what happened and that there’s a chance of flooding affecting our northern border, depending on how bad this gets.”

“You should also remind her to watch out for Fatui movements as they leave the country, now that they’ve gotten the gnosis and are personae non gratae in yet another country.”

“She’s probably going to make me organize relief efforts too,” he grumbled. “I doubt I’ll have the time to join you for anything big for a while, so you’d better give Focalors hell from me. And,” he added, jabbing the other man in the chest pointedly, “none of this sacrificing yourself bullshit again, you got that?”

“Heh.” Aether gave him a rueful smile and said, “I assure you it wasn’t intentional.”

“Doesn’t matter. Don’t do it again, dumbass, or I’ll figure out some way to make you regret it,” he said, the words a dark promise that he meant every single syllable of, before finally leaving to go reassure Buer.

“What do you mean, he stayed behind to block the nails?” Paimon demanded, voice rising in pitch with each word.

Focalors was silent, staring at the hands folded in her lap. Around them, lanterns and emergency lights flickered to life as the darkness grew deeper.

“He- he wouldn’t! He wouldn’t leave Paimon behind again!”

“I do not lie, Traveler’s protégé. Whatever else you may say about me, that remains true. And he has not reappeared since the nails struck.”

“It’s exactly as Her Eminence says,” one of the bedraggled advisors standing next to the oddly subdued hydro archon said. “After he told our Archon to flee, we could see the single remaining shield reshape itself to redirect the blast, only to shatter shortly thereafter. Had he not done so the entire city and the surrounding area would have been completely leveled by the initial strike, not just the following aftershocks.”

“I understand this must be a distressing situation for you, Miss Paimon-” another advisor started, before being interrupted.

“Paimon is not distressed! Paimon is mad!” She darted over to hover in front of the archon’s face, pointing a tiny angry finger. “This is your fault. Even Paimon knows better than to trust someone who promises amazing things for no reason! And this was the Fatui! Everyone knows the Fatui are bad news!”

“Miss Paimon-”

“Paimon isn’t done yet!” she snapped, without turning her glare away from Focalors. “You broke your city, and hurt your people, and lost your gnosis, and you didn’t even get anything out of it in the end. You didn’t even fix your stupid power crisis after all of that because there’s nothing left to power anymore! If Paimon knew as many bad words as the Wanderer, she would use ALL of them on you right now, and you’d deserve it!”

Focalors lowered her head, not protesting the accusations from the small floating girl angrily lecturing her.

“Just because you’re a god doesn’t mean you’re always right - you should know better! If Paimon didn’t feel sorry for all the people you almost got killed she’d tell Ganyu to take back all of the food and tents right now, because you should be the one to fix your own stupid mistakes!”

Hands akimbo at her waist, Paimon finished her rant with a stern huff and an emphatic bob in the air. “Anyway, Paimon doesn’t have any more time for you, because unlike some people Paimon is going to actually help instead of sitting on her hands and moping!”

She darted away from the nonplussed hydro archon to rejoin the Liyuean aid workers she’d helped Ganyu recruit, trying her best not to think about the horrible words the woman had said. He stayed behind. That didn’t mean he’d died! It just meant he was busy dealing with everything and hadn’t had time to stop yet. Yes. That's right. That was what Aether did, after all; he jumped right in and did what he could.

So she was going to keep doing what he’d told her, and help the aid workers, because he’d show up sooner or later. He had to.

And he did, finally, to her eternal relief. By that time though, she’d worked herself into exhaustion, barely able to hold her head up over her own bowl of the bland stew that she had helped serve to all the refugees and workers. She was only just able to stay awake long enough to give him a tearful, relieved hug, and listen to his calming reassurances - that he was fine, that Kazeharu had saved him, that everything was going to be okay now. The nervous energy that had been keeping her awake until then dissipated, and she didn’t even argue when he gently sent her back to the domain to go to sleep.

Everything was going to be okay. Aether had said so.

Chapter Text

Aether, too, was like that - giving him a name, a home, a life, permission or no. Giving him his love, for whatever unfathomable reason the man chose to do so. But he knew, had he rejected any of those, that the man would have accepted it gracefully, and so again, he tolerated it. As long as his decisions were respected, then he could care less how they chose to express their inexplicable fondness for him. The strings that controlled him had been severed, finally, and as long as they did not tie him down with new ones, he’d let them stay.

He was beyond exhausted when he finally deemed the situation under control and returned to his house, the nighttime shadows stretching across the wide space of the central hall, barely touched by the dim lamps that marked the side halls and the stairs. Paimon was dead to the world when he checked, curled up in her corner of their room under her blanket on the plump pillow that was her bed, tiny smile on her face and little star lamp held loosely to her chest as she dreamed whatever small dreams graced her today. He’d shooed her back to the teapot when he’d realized she was nodding off into her oversized bowl of stew as the other cooks had dished out the makeshift dinner to the newly displaced refugees. The fact that she hadn’t fought him about it only told him that she really was that tired after such a long day’s work. He closed their door gently after seeing she was comfortable, not wanting to wake her.

There was a certain wanderer waiting for him upstairs, after all.

The stairs creaked under his weight as he climbed them, in this immaculate replica of a house so perfectly built that it included every flaw and quirk of the original. With the main light off it was even dimmer up here on the balcony, save for the reflected light from below and the small teahouse light outside the particular room he was looking for. It was funny, how quickly the empty room had become so very Inazuman in style, despite the occupant’s professed distaste for the land.

The door clicked open at his touch, revealing that lonely wanderer - his wanderer - seated at the austere desk he’d given him, gentle lamplight from the painted screen in front of his unused bed highlighting his pale skin and lingering in the fine lashes framing those indigo ocean eyes. His notebook was open to a blank page, and he was simply staring off into space, spinning his pen through flawless fingers in an absentminded flash of silver, but at the sound of the door, his head turned.

“Oh,” he said blankly, staring at Aether like he was some ghastly apparition from his nightmares, pen frozen in its graceful loop around his fingers. “You… actually came.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” He’d been waiting for this all day, determinedly not thinking about Kazeharu’s lips on his, the feel of his hands tracing down his ribs, first because he needed to focus during that impossibly long ago meeting that had been just this morning, then knowing he couldn’t afford to be distracted during a rescue mission in such a severe environment. But that was then, and this was now, and he let himself remember that strangely delicate, yet commanding touch as he smiled shyly at the other man, let that remembrance bleed into his expression and his voice.

Haru tugged the brim of his hat down again reflexively, hiding his eyes as he managed to set down the pen with only the slightest fumble. What the hat didn’t hide was the renewed blush on his cheeks, and the sudden roughness in the usual soft tones of his voice. “I’d have thought you’d have reconsidered, by now.” His head lifted, just barely enough to see his shadowed eyes staring suspiciously from under the brim, and the walls were back up again as he declared, standing, “You sure you want to be associated with someone questionable like me?” It was a challenge, and his bare footsteps were slow and taunting.

Aether tossed his words right back at him, golden eyes glinting in teasing defiance. “If we’re talking about questionable associations, do recall that my sister is currently leading the Abyss Order. Are you sure you want to be associated with someone like me?” He folded his arms confidently, waiting to see what the next move in their little game would be.

Kazeharu stopped at that, pausing with a thoughtful look on his face, raising one hand to his chin.  “Actually,” he mused, “now that you mention it…”

The silence stretched uncomfortably, and Aether’s confidence began to wilt. He hadn’t thought that would actually be something the man would take seriously. “I…” he started, shifting his weight from foot to foot, “I mean…”

The puppet looked straight at him, then dropped his hand to reveal that devilish smirk that Aether had grown to know so well.

“Kidding,” he breathed in amusement, suddenly close enough that Aether could feel the air from his words on his face, see the delighted shine in his eyes as he leaned in to rest that perfect forehead against his, tipping the hat back so that it covered them both.

Aether huffed a laugh despite himself. “You’re terrible.”

The other’s lips curled into an unrepentant smile against his own. “Yes, I am,” he purred. “You love it.”

“Yes, I do,” Aether admitted, raising one hand to cup that perfectly carved cheek and pull it against his own, tracing the fingers of his other hand down the elemental markings on the wanderer’s chest, dark now with no power flooding through him. 

Haru’s hand slid up his own chest in response, right back to his heart, those delicate fingers slowly spreading wide as his tongue traced Aether’s lips, searching for a way in. For the second time today he was pinned to the wall as the man dismissed his hat and leaned into the kiss, eyes hungrily devouring the blush creeping up Aether’s face. Somehow the other hand was in his messy braid now, tugging his head back to give the puppet better access to his mouth, and a leg slid between his own, spreading his thighs and pressing firmly against the heat building there. It was too much, and not enough, and the traveler dropped his hands to Haru’s hips, pressing him closer still so he could grind their bodies together. Despite the intensity of their kiss, he couldn’t feel what he’d been expecting between the puppet’s legs, but it didn’t matter - whatever Haru had to share with him would be perfect, because the man was perfect himself.

He felt the brush of the other’s mind, tentative and gentle, for all the confidence displayed by his body. Aether welcomed it, welcomed him, sharing his own shuddering nervousness and hopeful excitement, to match the fluttering fear he could feel just beneath the surface of Haru’s own lustful eagerness. He also shared the burning in his lungs, the increasing need for him to breathe, even if the wanderer didn’t. The man pulled back just slightly at that, letting his prey gasp for air, heart trembling underneath his palm once again. “I,” he breathed against Aether’s lips, eyes dark as midnight in the shadow of those half-closed lashes as he stared intensely into the face of his almost-lover, “am going to make you mine.” It was a promise; almost a threat.

“Do it, then,” Aether said, his own eyes half closed in anticipation, feeling the brief elation that flickered through the other man’s mind as the hand in his braid tightened at the words, then tugged his head to the side as the wanderer’s lips trailed down his neck, leaving small bites and soft kisses. They’d be fully visible tomorrow, not even a high-necked shirt or scarf enough to hide them, and that was of course the point. That would be a problem for future Aether, he decided, clutching at the wanderer’s haori and gasping as the bites grew more aggressive, accompanied by purring growls. One last sharp nip at the base of his neck was nearly hard enough to draw blood, and then Haru withdrew to examine his handiwork.

“Perfect,” he murmured, eyes tracing the forming bruises, his voice rough with desire. “You’re perfect. And mine.” And then he was fiercely kissing Aether again, eager hands pulling at his shirt, unbuckling straps and stripping him bare, caressing the lit star on his chest, the deep scars that lay along those secondary shoulderblades on his back. His own hands pulled at the haori, sliding it down off those impossibly delicate shoulders so he could touch them, hold them, caress the place where that sheer bodysuit lay against the muscles of his chest, lay his own hand against the silent expanse where the puppet’s heart should have been. The flinch at that touch, the sick nervousness that flashed through their connected minds made Aether’s heart stutter and sink, wondering briefly if he’d just ruined everything - but then Haru’s own hand came up to cover his, pressing it to that silence and slotting his fingers into the spaces between Aether’s own, and he leaned back into the kiss, gentle this time. This is what I am, his thoughts whispered, as those flawless eyes searched his face in strangely timid apprehension.

“And you’re beautiful,” he whispered back against those soft, tempting lips, matching him stare for stare, gold and blue. He felt, more than heard, the other’s imitated breath catch, and then the fire was back even fiercer, impossibly strong hands divesting him of the remaining straps holding up his pants and shoving him onto his knees, shrugging off the layers of the wanderer’s robes while Aether’s hands clumsily untied the obi at his waist and stripped off the pleated shorts. That sheer bodysuit did nothing but accentuate the smooth planes and curves of the other man’s body, and he felt his arousal flare at just the sight. Beautiful, and completely androgynous like an artist’s model doll, save for the inconspicuous division between his legs. The traveler trailed his hands down the smooth muscles of the other’s chest, across the delicate lines of power crossing his skin, down to his hips and across his pelvis, stopping just before his hands would have reached the man’s groin. Haru had leaned back slightly to watch him examine the revealed masterpiece, satisfaction flickering through their shared connection at the reverent delight the blonde was displaying, and he glanced up to see those lidded eyes gazing at him over an insufferably smug smile.

“I will admit to being thankful she didn’t bother with most of the usual extraneous fleshy bits that humans normally have,” the man said nonchalantly, arching his back to press into the hands at his hips, coyly running his own hands down the uninterrupted smooth planes of his chest and stomach. “They’ve always seemed so awkward. Vulnerable, too. I suspect the only reason I even have genitals at all is because she wanted to make sure she’d get them right for herself.”

He cocked his head to one side, midnight hair falling across his face as his smile grew bitter. “One of the only benefits to being a prototype, really.”

In answer to that bitterness, Aether leaned forward and gently pressed a kiss to the base of the man’s pelvis, right on the exposed elemental markings. He looked back up to the ocean-deep eyes in that perfect face framed by dark, ethereal hair, silently asking for permission to do more.

“You may,” the dainty lips below that intense stare said, curving into an amused smirk.

That was all he needed, and he slid his hands underneath the bodysuit, pulling it to the side so he could caress the warmth there, skin to skin. He pressed kisses to the spots his fingers passed over as he explored, catalogueing every slight noise or reaction for future worship. A still-gloved hand fell into his hair, twining into it as Haru made pleased noises above him, rocking gently into his touch. He dared a little more, slipping inquisitive fingers deeper, and was rewarded with an outright moan. Every time he sneaked a glance upward, those lustful indigo eyes were cracked open just enough to watch him as he drew out moan after moan, each one sending a thrill down his spine and straight to his groin. He might be undone just from the sinful noises Haru was making, without having been touched once.

Abruptly, the hand in his hair tensed, gently pulling him back as he was told, “Enough. I don’t want just your fingers, Aether. You’re not getting off that lightly.”

He looked up to see his beautifully flushed, panting puppet, kneeling and sliding forward to straddle his hips, shamelessly grinding against him with a breathy moan.

“Fuck- Haru-” was all he could manage, head tipping back against the wall and hands dropping to the other’s hips and gripping them tightly.

“I hope you weren’t expecting a blushing virgin, Aether,” Haru said, draping one arm across the traveler’s shoulders, the amusement filtering through their minds matching the sly smile on his lips as he continued grinding against him, the other hand dropping down between them to ensure that they were both ready. “My Katsu saw to that a long time ago.”

Then he leaned in for another kiss, lifting himself up briefly to position himself properly, before sinking straight down in one fluid motion, sighing against his lips in delight.

“Oh, fuck,” Aether groaned, feeling both his own sudden flaring lust as they were finally joined, and the smug satisfaction rippling through his mind from the other’s rising high.

“That’s right,” Haru crooned, beginning to rock his hips back and forth, drawing another curse from Aether. “That’s it. Curse for me, little star. Fight me. Give me every last ounce of spite and defiance you have in there,” he breathed into his lover’s ear, twining one gloved hand in the braid and holding him down with the other. “I want all of it.”

He tried to match the rhythm of Haru’s hips rolling against his own as best he could pinned against a wall, but they both knew which of them was in control here. Trembling desperately, he sought his lover’s commanding hand and placed his own over top it, pressing it to his chest until they both felt his heartbeat in their woven fingers. Shuddering breaths escaped his lips between curses, and all the while those intense blue eyes drank in every flicker of emotion on his face, breathlessly anticipating the moment he would crack.

It happened quickly, Haru driving him mercilessly over the edge with malicious delight, as he clawed at the puppet’s back in agonizing bliss and clasped that strong hand to his heart even more greedily. Even then, those relentless hips never stopped moving, chasing their own release while Aether writhed in helpless near-pain beneath the man while the sensations all just kept going, not fighting it but clutching at that back, those beautiful shoulders even more desperately, leaving red crescents along those circular scars beneath the bodysuit.

It was quickly too much for the traveler, and he peaked again with another muffled curse, burying his face in the other’s chest.

“So damn perfect,” he whispered.

And Haru tipped over himself at that, stiffening in ecstasy above his lover, head tipping back wide-eyed in bliss and mouth open to let out a tiny, breathy “Aether,” as shudders wracked his body, and wild violet sparks danced across his artificial skin - crackling where they met the touch of the traveler’s own all-too-real skin.

“My beautiful little star,” he murmured into Aether’s ear, when he finally stilled. “Mine, now. All mine.”

“I was already yours,” the traveler whispered back. “My love.”

The puppet lifted his hand to cup his lover’s cheek tenderly, slid it round to the back of his neck and pressed their foreheads and bodies together, closing his eyes to listen to the echo of their singular heartbeat through the empty cavern of his chest, re-echoing through both their thoughts and frames.

You came back. You keep coming back. The thought lingered in their mental connection as they caught their breath, hands still twined between them.

“Of course I do,” Aether said, bemused, lifting his gaze to look at his beautiful, perfect lover. 

Who was crying.

Oh. 

“Shit, fuck, Haru, what’s wrong? Was it something I-”

“Don’t be a dumbass,” the other man said between silent, hiccuping sobs, dashing the tears away with the hand Aether wasn’t holding. “I am having a perfectly normal reaction to. To letting someone in. For the first time in hundreds of years.”

“Haru…” the traveler said softly, eyebrows creasing in sympathy.

The puppet reiterated, ocean eyes glassy and swimming with tears, “Perfectly. Normal. And I’m fine.”

Aether could sense the man’s emotional fragility through their link, and it was a testament to how much the wanderer trusted him that the link remained and he was allowed to see that much in the first place. One wrong word, and he’d break. So the traveler merely opened his arms and gathered him in against his chest and let him cry, rocking him gently. One hand stroked the fine dark hair as the puppet wept cold, inhuman tears into the crook of his own inhuman neck, the other arm cradling him reverently. He didn’t offer any platitudes or generic feel-good statements, no it’ll be okays or you’ll be fines - he wouldn’t subject the wanderer to such small, meaningless words in the face of such profound pain.

Instead, he merely murmured, “I’ve got you.” I’m here.

Eventually, the tears slowed, and the puppet’s ragged breathing evened out into the calm rhythm of sleep. It was only a matter of moments to transfer him carefully to his previously unused bed, to borrow damp towels from the bathroom to clean the dried tears and smudged makeup from that now serene face, unzip and peel the much-abused bodysuit off, and gently wipe the sweat and grime from their bodies. 

The exhaustion of the day’s events had all compounded into one terrible, weighty lethargy, and Aether barely kept from falling asleep where he stood, just managing instead to crawl into the bed next to his newly minted lover and pull the covers up. The sensation of his arms around the other man, the cool of that artificial skin against his own warmth, and the slight tickle of the fine hair against his face, were the last things he was aware of as he let go of reality and let himself tumble into the depths of sleep at last.

There were hands on him when he woke.

Hands on him, and arms around his naked body, and his half-conscious mind screamed of danger, sending him shooting upwards into a defensive pose, throwing his attacker off of him and jumping back to a safer distance, an assassin’s blade materializing in his hands as he frantically scanned the area, assessing the threat through sleep-muddled eyes.

“It’s just me,” a soft voice said, the indistinct figure across from him raising its hands soothingly.

That was not Dottore’s voice, his mind informed him, and the lack of restraining straps and illicit substances coursing through his veins seemed to confirm that. That was enough for him to hesitate at least - to gather his thoughts and cautiously lower the knife in his hands. How had he gotten here?

Aether. Kissing the man, ruthlessly making love to him - that was right, he’d been with the traveler, and he’d fallen asleep…

Shit.

He’d just threatened his lover with a knife.

He dropped the offending item as though it had suddenly grown scorching hot, words tumbling from his lips as he dismissed it and reached out to the man in horror. “Fuck, oh fuck, Aether. I didn’t - I thought someone was attacking me - Celestia strike me down if I - did I - are you hurt?”

“I’m okay, Haru,” was the gentle reassurance, the other man moving slowly, one hand reaching to turn on the screen’s lantern, the other grasping his own outstretched hand carefully, as though he were a startled animal that might flee at any moment. “I’m more worried about you,” his lover said quietly, obviously feeling the residual panic through the contact. “Was it a nightmare? Is there anything I can do?”

“It - no,” he said, pulling his hand back and wrapping his arms around himself tightly. “No, not a nightmare. Just - old memories.” Bad ones. He shuddered involuntarily.

“I’m here, then,” his star said calmly, gently settling down behind him and patiently wrapping his own arms around the puppet, another layer of defense against the outside world that had been so horribly cruel. “You know I won’t judge you.”

“I know,” he said, though it was still hard for him to believe even now, and forced himself to relax into that solid, comforting warmth at his back, feeling his systems return to their normal baseline after the rush of artificial adrenaline began to pass. “I know.” 

They sat together like that for a long moment, simply breathing together, Kazeharu following the slow, soothing pattern of in and out set by the lover cradling him in his arms. “It’s that asshole’s fault again,” he muttered finally, leaning further into the traveler’s embrace, turning slightly to rest against his chest. He thought it was clear enough who he meant. “Sometimes, I’m grateful that you didn’t actually see everything.”

The sound of Aether’s sudden indrawn breath was all that could be heard in answer.

“Are you sure you don’t want help killing him?” the other man said after a moment, steel lurking below the usually calm surface of his voice. “I would be more than happy to assist you,” he continued, chillingly. “He has too much to answer for.”

“Maybe I’ll save a segment just for you, little star,” he said, a smile tugging at his lips at the thought. “I’ll give you the chance to destroy one all to yourself.”

“I wouldn’t want to ruin your fun,” his partner (yes, he thought with a start, the man was his partner now, wasn’t he? They were a couple now, after all) said, tilting his head wryly. “But at this point? I don’t think I’d pass up the opportunity either.”

“Hah.” The great and honorable traveler, seeking revenge on his behalf. The thought was surprisingly appealing, and he let it settle in his mind, examining it from different angles as another small smile curled up the corners of his lips. 

But, enough about the demon who had ruined his life. He had other things he wanted to think about right now.

“So, that wasn’t how I was planning to end things tonight,” Kazeharu said, idly tracing the patterns of his elemental markings onto Aether’s skin. They would look beautiful next to the traveler’s own starry marks, he thought.  

“You had a plan?” the blonde asked with teasing amusement, “I’m impressed. I just showed up hoping you would wreck me the same way you kissed me earlier.”

“The plan consisted of wrecking you and listening to you praise my glory afterward,” he said slyly, running a sultry hand up the other man’s chest.

“Oh, is that all? We can still do that part, if you like,” he said, golden eyes glinting dangerously as he raised a hand to cradle the puppet’s face. “My glorious, ethereal trickster. You’re devastatingly handsome and flawlessly beautiful, the epitome of a dangerous and disdainful god whose altar deserves only the choicest of offerings,” the traveler said lovingly, pausing only to take a breath before continuing his adoring assault. “An altar upon which I lay myself gladly, O divine radiance, who graces my unworthy eyes with-”

“Stop - stop, stop, stop stop,” the wanderer said, flushing so red he couldn’t even meet the other man’s eyes. “It was a joke,” he said faintly, without an ounce of truth to the words. Damn the man for always zeroing in on his weak points. “How the hell can you say shit like that with a straight face?”

“Because you blush so beautifully when I tell you the truth,” Aether said, voice gentle, without a single hint of sarcasm.

“Damn you,” he muttered ruefully, burying his face in the other man’s shoulder rather than risk looking at him again. He could still feel the overwhelming affection emanating from the other’s mind, but at least he didn’t have to look him in the eyes.

“You’re lucky I don’t have the energy to move again right now,” the traveler said playfully, lying back and pulling him along, one hand drifting down to cup his ass. “That blush of yours does things to me.”

“You may not have the energy, Aether, but I do,” he said with a threatening grin, propping himself up to loom ominously over that tempting form. “Immortal untiring puppet, remember?”

“Sadly, I think you might kill me if you tried, love,” Aether said, gazing up at him with such fondness that Kazeharu had to lean down and kiss him in response, slowly savoring the taste of the man’s mouth and the feel of his lips moving against his own. “I really don’t have much left right now,” he murmured into the puppet’s mouth.

“Well, then, we can’t have you dying, now can we?” he said, finally releasing the other’s lips, relenting and snuggling into his chest instead. “Not after I worked so hard earlier.”

“Have I mentioned how appreciative I am of that?” the traveler said with a smile, reaching over to gently tuck a stray lock back behind the puppet’s ear.

“You know, I’m not sure I remember,” the wanderer said with mock innocence, pursing his lips and tapping them with a finger. “You’re the one with perfect recall, maybe you should tell me again to jog my memory.”

Aether’s low chuckle resonated through his hollow chest, and his larger hand gently clasped Kazeharu’s own, bringing that thoughtful finger to his own lips so he could kiss first it, then the back of his hand. “You’re terrible, Haru,” he whispered around those fingers, eyes sparkling with amusement. “Just absolutely awful.”

He couldn’t help but preen at those words, relishing in this singular attentive audience for his dark, contrary humour. “You spoil me, little star,” he said with a teasing lilt and a saucy press of his naked form against the traveler’s, one leg creeping up to hook itself around the other man’s hips. “Such an enabler for my mischief.”

“I take it back,” Aether said, his voice dropping to a near purr. “I might have the energy for a little something after all.”

“Oh really,” the puppet said, biting his lip in delight as his hands began to wander downwards. “Then it will be my pleasure to absolutely destroy you this morning, my lovely little star.” 

He leaned in closer to murmur tauntingly, “Say your prayers, sweetheart.”

Chapter Text

Sometimes you just need to have a good cry when your mother-by-creation recognizes your adoption to the person that actually raised you four hundred years later. Especially if it’s unexpected.

At least, that's the excuse he makes to himself later that night, when he stops thinking about the documents he's scanning for long enough to remember the feeling of the traveler’s arms around him and how startlingly safe he’d felt there. Not even Kaedehara’s presence had been enough to detract from that safe feeling, and the subsequent unwelcome realization that he was getting rather more attached to his former enemy than he really should be.

And yet, he hasn’t felt that safe since his father died.

When he drifted back to consciousness in the waxing light of the morning sun, there were familiar-unfamiliar arms around him, and a lithe body molded against the curves of his back, a dark head of hair tucked into his shoulder. The puppet was clearly awake, one hand pressed to his heartbeat, the other gently combing through the unbound blonde strands that lay splayed around them. The shift in his body language was enough to alert the other that he’d woken, and he was greeted with a gentle nuzzle against his shoulders, accompanied by a contented, wordless murmur. 

He smiled in response, lifting a hand to clasp the one on his chest, remembering last night - and remembering that Haru had tentatively suggested, later, that those unwelcome memories would be less likely to be roused if he were the one holding Aether, instead of the other way around. He’d been so grumpily awkward, abashed and annoyed that he couldn’t simply indulge in the traveler’s embrace the way a ‘normal’ person could, as he’d put it. Despite all his loud claims of divine superiority, deep down he still truly wanted nothing more than to be a simple, ordinary human like everyone else. Like his father, and like the other bladesmiths that had raised him.

It didn’t matter that Aether personally thought he was the most human divinity he’d ever encountered, with a depth and range of emotional expression and experience that not even all mortals were capable of - the man still felt that he didn’t measure up, somehow. Not perfect enough to be a god, he’d said last night, and not mortal enough to be a human either. What’s left, then, in such a useless patchwork of almosts and could have beens? 

The wanderer himself was what was left, of course, and Aether had protested the unfair condemnation of ‘useless’ quite strongly. No matter how many deep-seated insecurities he had, Haru was far more than just the perceived shortcomings he was so keenly aware of. It would take more than just a few reassuring words to undo such a deeply entrenched sense of insecurity, though, one that had been built up and reinforced over the centuries of betrayals the puppet had experienced. He wouldn’t be surprised if it took as many centuries again to balance out the fears that weighed so heavily on the man.

It was a good thing he was in this for the long haul, then. Kazeharu would need all of that and more.

“Ugh,” Paimon’s sleepy voice complained, as the sound of a door opening reached them, “you’re always in the Wanderer’s room now, even when Paimon wakes up.”

He felt a slight pang of guilt for having left her by herself once again, but Haru needed him too, now, and Aether was still in the house and easily found. The puppet might not really need to sleep, but having someone to trust, to lower his guard around, was just as, if not more important for his recovery.

“Do you really have to - WHAT,” she screeched in dismay as she floated past the screen and finally spotted them, snuggled together under the lavender coverlet, “why are you sleeping in his BED now?? YOU HAVE A BED, AETHER.”

Oh, boy. How to explain that he was not particularly there for actual sleeping, or ever going to be doing those non-sleep activities with the wanderer while in a shared room with Paimon (even if his bed was bigger).

The puppet shifted behind him, distinctly naked form pressing up against his back an unhelpful distraction, as the man propped his head up on a fist to purr smugly, “He fell asleep in my room, Paipai. It’s not like I use the bed, anyway. He can have it as long as he wants.”

All technically true, he supposed, though it was certainly leaving out a lot of details.

“PAIPAI??” she squawked, pulling back in distaste and bobbing in the air with the violence of the sudden motion. 

“What, you don’t like it?” Haru said impishly, sticking his tongue out. “You’re always complaining when I call you squirt or pipsqueak, but you’re going to complain about that one too - when Aether calls you Pai all the time? So ungrateful.”

“Paimon doesn’t need new nicknames,” she said with an indignant pout. “Why can’t Wanderer just use the ones she already has??”

“Actually,” the blonde said, before Paimon’s little face could get any redder and more scrunched up, “I think ‘Paipai’ is pretty cute, myself. But since you don’t like it-”

“Paimon didn’t say she didn’t like it,” she said hastily, her face going through a humorous sequence of shifts in expression, from anger to dismay through embarrassment to petulance. “She just said she didn’t need a new one!”

“Oh, so now you like it because it has Aether’s seal of approval? I’m offended, Paipai,” the wanderer teased, clearly amused by her sudden capitulation.

“Paipai thinks the Wanderer is stupid. And his face is stupid, too.”

“Paimon,” he chided her, “Don’t be mean to him if I’m the one you’re actually mad at for sleeping in here.”

She switched targets without missing a beat. “Aetherrr… Paimon hates waking up by herselff,” she whined. “Maybe she should just move her bed in here too then, if you’re just going to be in here all the time-”

“NO,” and “Nooo,” were the simultaneous responses from the two men. “No no, no need, kid,” Haru hastily continued, “I can just make sure to send him downstairs before he falls asleep next time, right, Aether? Or just wake him up in the morning if he does take another nap.”

The traveler nodded emphatically. “There’s really no need to do anything drastic, it’s just that I was so tired after yesterday-” even before their perhaps excessively enthusiastic extracurricular activities last night, which Paimon did not need to know about.

“Paimon isn’t stupid,” she declared with a huff. “Paimon knows what grown-up relationships look like! You’re obviously up here because you didn’t want Paimon to know you were smooching this jerk,” she said, pointing emphatically at the wholly unrepentant culprit, who simply grinned at her over Aether’s shoulder. “You even let him chew on your neck! Paimon can see the bite marks and she’s going to ignore them because that’s gross! So if Wanderer wants to do something less gross like cuddle with the Traveler while he’s sleeping, Paimon isn’t going to complain, even if she thinks Aether’s taste is super weird.”

Ah, ignorance. Bliss, as they say. How sweet that she thought kissing and biting was the worst of it. Still, he had forgotten about the rather blatant state of his neck… he should probably heal it before he left the house.

“Besides,” the little sprite added sternly, hands on her hips, “there’s barely room for both of you on that thing, you look like one of you’ll fall off if someone breathes wrong. Don’t be dumb, just use Aether’s bed instead.”

“Oh?” said the wanderer, in an amused drawl. “I have the great and powerful Paimon’s permission to snuggle the Traveler in his own bed? You’re not wrong, after all, this lump of kindling really isn’t big enough for two people.”

“Paimon will tolerate it,” she said with a sniff, “because Paimon knows Aether really likes Haru despite all the reasons he shouldn’t. But Paimon demands pancakes in return for her magnanimous consideration and generosity.”

“That I can do,” Aether said with a quiet laugh. He wasn’t above bribing her with her favorite foods if it meant she felt like she was being included in their decisions. The matter of the bed was still more complex than she thought, but they’d work something out. It wasn’t as if the puppet needed sleep - in all likelihood he’d still be spending most of his nights working on whatever intricate schemes he was spinning at the time. “Just let me get dressed, first, okay?”

“Fine,” she said with another huff, spinning and floating towards the door. “But Paimon is not leaving so you can start smooching again! Paimon will invoke her most wrathful Paimonial Wrath if you don’t feed her soon.”

Haru, tempting fate, slid one mischievous hand downwards as soon as the door shut behind her, and Aether swatted it away just as quickly. “Impertinent scoundrel,” he scolded affectionately, tossing back the cover and swinging his legs over the side of the bed to stand up. “Keep your greedy hands to yourself, or Paimon might decide she doesn’t approve of us after all.”

“As if I need her approval,” the puppet grumbled half-heartedly, flopping back onto the pillow to lazily watch the traveler’s naked form bending and picking up their discarded garments, contented appreciation written clear in the tender smile that formed as he did. 

“Here,” Aether said, tossing the wanderer’s mantle at him and hiding a smile of his own as it smacked the startled man right in the face. Haru pulled it down with a scowl, as the traveler continued, “I’m not going to try to make you get dressed if you want to lie around scandalously naked in your own room, but at least take your vision out from under the pillow and put it back in its case, will you? That way you’ll have it ready if there’s an emergency.”

“Emergency or not, I will not be displaying my unclothed body for just any plebeian mongrels to gawk at,” the wanderer said with a haughty sniff, sitting up and draping the tailored blue cloth across his shoulder. “That singular privilege is reserved for only the worthiest of lovers.” He smiled saucily at the traveler as if his implication wasn’t clear enough already, working the hidden clasps that held his vision in place within its frame.

“I’m honored,” Aether said dryly, as he pulled his pants back on, “but I’m also hungry, and we’ve both got too much to do to be lazing around like this.”

“Spoilsport,” the puppet muttered, pulling on a fresh bodysuit from the wardrobe that Nahida had filled so enthusiastically. He relented, though, and the two of them finished dressing themselves quickly. Haru immediately claimed the right to rebraid his hair at the first opportunity, and that was how Paimon found them when she finally lost patience and slammed the door back open. The puppet’s skillful hands were twining the blonde strands back together as Aether sat on the edge of the bed in front of Haru, healing his neck. According to her, that was something that could be done while the traveler was cooking, and she dragged them both downstairs for her promised feast with the braid still only half done.

It wasn’t a bad feeling though, to be listening to the playful banter of his two favorite people as he put together a morning meal just for them, while Haru’s hands wound through his hair, bitter tea and thick coffee brewing next to the sizzling cakes in their pans.

He wouldn’t mind spending a thousand mornings just like this, he thought fondly, as he tipped the last pancakes onto their stacks.

“They’ll have resumed the search for survivors by now,” he said, as he set the laden plates on the table and poured juice into Paimon’s glass. “The rate of flooding had stabilized, as far as we could tell, and it’s being redirected into the nearby valley - Focalors was holding it back while they constructed a makeshift dam to protect the refugee camp when I left last night.”

“Hmph! At least she’s doing something, now,” the sprite declared petulantly around a mouthful of syrup-soaked pancake. “Paimon doesn’t think she should get to sit around without punishment after destroying a whole city full of people!”

“You’re actually wrong about that part, at least, Pai,” he said, fingers tapping thoughtfully on the table. “She’s already suffering the greatest punishment a god can right now.”

“She looked fine to me when she was sitting there staring at the ground and telling me you hadn’t come back yet - Paimon is still mad at you for that, by the way!”

“Paimon, her people have lost faith in her,” he stated quietly. There was really no way to convey just how devastating a blow this was to a god, especially after losing the amplifier of her gnosis. “It’s a drastic, cataclysmic shift in power for her. People still worship her, of course, but their faith is all but gone.” You could see it in their eyes when they looked at their archon, after their city and half the population had been so casually destroyed. “And the further the news spreads, the worse it will get for her. Even when I spoke with her last night, she had already grown weaker than Barbatos. She was visibly diminished, at least to my senses.”

“Weaker than the tone-deaf bard???” she gasped, nearly dropping her fork. It was practically unthinkable, considering Venti adamantly refused to interfere in the day-to-day affairs of his nation at all.

He nodded. “Venti may be hands off, but his people still have faith in him. When they’ve really needed help, he’s been there for them, and his followers are small in number but devout. His power may be relatively weak, but it’s stable. Focalors, on the other hand…”

“The Anemo Archon is a lazy, wine-drunk slacker,” the puppet said from over his tea, his first contribution to the topic. “But he’s old enough to know things about the world and how it works that only come from experience. That’s something Focalors doesn’t have, for all she’s actually slightly older than me, and I suspect her advisors were either too naive to point out flaws in her plans, or too over-confident in her power to see them.”

“Kujou Takayuki was like that too,” Aether said, gesturing with one hand in irritation. “We’d thought that he was actively plotting against the Shogun with the Fatui, but then it turned out he was just so convinced that she was all-powerful that he couldn’t fathom her being vulnerable to attack from them.”

“He was an idiot,” Haru snorted, blunt as ever. “A blind idiot that Signora was leading by the nose. But I have to admit I wouldn’t be surprised if something similar came to light in Fontaine, when everything’s examined properly. I don’t doubt they were coddling her and feeding her ego.”

“So you mean,” Paimon said hesitantly, “that Focalors might have been tricked and is going to take all the blame for something when it was really her people that messed up?”

“She’s certainly not blameless, and deserves most of the scorn she’s getting for failing to anticipate the consequences of her actions,” the blonde said as he sipped his coffee, “but it’s highly likely that the Fatui encouraged her if not set the whole thing up in its entirety, considering how well it worked out for them. It’s the first time there’ve been so many clearly unwarranted casualties from one of their schemes, though - even the civil war in Inazuma didn’t have this high a death toll for civilians.”

“Don’t forget, they nearly managed to eliminate you too, Aether,” the wanderer pointed out, his voice full of menace. “That can’t have been coincidental, and I’m going to make them pay for that.”

“Snezhnaya might actually have to pay, alright - actual reparations to Fontaine, that is,” he clarified hastily, “depending on how much evidence the government has of their plotting. They can’t afford to be any more of a pariah than they already are right now.”

“You say that like the Tsaritsa gives a damn,” Haru said, rolling his eyes.

“She might not, but the Fatui in Natlan will,” he countered.

“And that changes anything how?” the puppet said with a sarcastic drawl.

“I doubt she’ll make things more difficult for her operatives if she doesn’t have to,” Aether said, reasonably. “They’re the only way to get what she wants, after all.”

“You can’t apply logic and common sense to gods, Ae, you should know that by now. Speaking of ‘what she wants’ - are you going to head straight to Natlan now? We know Capitano is already up to something, after all.”

“I… I should.” But he didn’t say anything else, simply gazing down into his near-empty cup. 

Paimon looked puzzled, finishing off her last pancake in silence, but Haru gave him a knowing look, and said quietly, “Are you still nervous about pyro?”

Aether nodded, remembering that he hadn’t quite said as much in as many words to the puppet, but recounting his unexpectedly disturbing experiences with Signora to the man had been one of their more uncomfortable conversations, and it must have been obvious why.

“You’ve got hydro, now,” the wanderer pointed out with a shrug. “I think you’re worrying too much as it is - since when do you not have control of your power? The only thing you ever lack when you attune to an element is skill and practice - but hydro alone should be enough to counter the effects of anything. Drown your fire in water if you have to.”

“And what if my seal breaks with just six elements? I don’t-”

“Then it broke,” he said, with a careless wave of his hand. “Congratulations, you’re immune to Celestia’s tantrums, now.”

“But-”

“Aether,” Haru said, leaning forward intently, “do you really think, deep down, that you’ll have forgotten how to control your native power - that you’ve been living with for millennia, might I remind you - after a mere couple hundred years?”

“Well, no…” he admitted, “but I still-”

“But nothing,” the wanderer said smugly, having gotten the answer he wanted. “If you’re really that worried, just make sure you attune to a Statue of the Seven that’s away from everything. Hell, if you want to drag me along for moral support you can. I can’t promise I won’t complain about it though.”

“Heh,” he said, a smile creeping onto his lips at the thought of one of the puppet’s sharp-tongued diatribes being considered ‘moral support’. “I guess you’re right,” he said, sighing and tipping back his coffee to catch the very last drops.

“Of course I’m right,” Haru said, radiating smugness even stronger. “Just who do you think I am?”

“Fishing for compliments, now, are we?” Aether said, standing to collect the dishes. “How shameless of you.”

“I,” the puppet said slyly, propping his chin on a fist, “am above such petty mortal considerations as shame, little star.”

“And yet you blush in embarrassment when I give you even the slightest compliment,” the traveler said with a smirk, “my-“

“Don’t even start, you,” the man interrupted, face already slightly pink. “That’s not embarassment, it’s anger.”

“If you say so, Haru,” he said, a teasing lilt in his tone. “I definitely believe you.”

“Anyway,” the puppet said, clearly changing the topic before his face could get any redder, “Are you or are you not heading to Natlan today?”

“Mmmmm,” he hummed pensively. “As much as I need to head there as soon as I can, I do unfortunately have some loose ends in Fontaine that I need to tie up still, especially after yesterday threw everything into such sudden disarray. Loaned items I need to return, and various orders in outlying settlements to cancel. So, no, not today. Maybe not even tomorrow, if things take too long.” 

“Well, that’s good for me at least,” the wanderer said, sliding his chair out from the table as though he was going to stand. He sighed, tipping his head back to rest against the chair back, clearly annoyed. “I’ve been neglecting my blade quotas to help with your investigation the last few days. I’m going to have to stay and catch up on that some today, before anything else happens. I can speak with Buer from the forge if she needs me for something specific, but she seemed to have the recovery efforts well in hand when we spoke yesterday, so it should work out.”

“I’ll see you later, then, love,” Aether said with a quiet smile, relishing in the appellation that he was now permitted to use, leaning down to press a brief kiss to the other man’s lips and then straightening - only to be pulled right back down for Haru to give him a more thorough and much less chaste kiss. Paimon’s response was to make exaggerated gagging noises from behind them, which they resolutely ignored.

“Now you can go,” the man murmured with a sly smile, after he finally pulled away. “Kick some Fatui for me while you’re out there.”

“I’ll find some just for you, Haru.”

The knock on the door was completely unexpected, and both their heads turned towards the sound. “Stay in the kitchen,” Zhongli quietly instructed his guest. “I will answer it.”

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” he said, opening the door a slight crack, the chain stopping it from opening further. It wouldn’t provide any real defense should the two skirmishers outside decide to use force, but it was simply there as a visual indicator of distrust, not for security.

“Master Zhongli,” said the first, with a deferential bow. “We’ve been instructed by the Lord Harbinger to escort the little miss to his apartment for an evening meal before she retires for the night.”

“I see,” said the funeral consultant, with all the dignity he could summon to cover the sinking feeling of dread that had set in at those words. “May I ask why you have come to see me, then? Our lessons for the day are finished, and she is staying at a hotel, is she not?”

“Yes sir,” the skirmisher said, with another polite bow. “However, she is not in her room at the moment and we thought to drop by and check that the hotel staff weren’t mistaken about her return.”

“I am afraid that I couldn’t tell you where she is, then,” Zhongli said, mustering up the best of his deception skills to sound as persuasive and truthful as possible. “I returned her to her hotel room as usual after our studies, and have been home since.”

“I see,” said the first skirmisher, exchanging a glance with the second, their masks concealing their expressions. “Well, we’ll keep looking, then. Do let her know he’s looking for her if she does happen to stop by, and thank you for your time, Master Zhongli.”

“Of course,” he said, with a gracious bow of his own. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she simply decided to visit one of the night markets to explore for the evening. I hope you don’t have to spend too long searching.”

He closed the door, waiting briefly for any sign they might change their minds, before turning back to the rest of the room with a sigh. This was the exact scenario they had been hoping to avoid. If it’s not me personally, the harbinger had said, don’t let anyone take her. I’m counting on you, xiansheng.

“Xiao,” the former archon said, feeling the room’s atmosphere darken as the rush of air announced the adeptus’ presence.

“My lord?” he said, planting the butt of his spear on the floor and kneeling.

“It seems that our fears were correct,” he said, not wanting to alarm his other guest with specifics. “If you would be so kind as to check on the other location, as we discussed?”

“Consider it done,” Xiao said, standing and disappearing in another rush of air before his words had even faded.

“In the meantime,” he said, turning back towards the worried young face that had been listening from behind the kitchen counter, “I believe we should take you to a safer place to stay for the moment, Miss Tonia.”

Chapter Text

As much as he hates to admit it, it had been nice. To not feel as though something might go wrong somewhere, somehow, at any moment. That tense anticipation is always lurking in the back of his mind, now - he’s used to it. Used to second-guessing every word and action and miniscule expression that crosses the faces of the people around him. 

To just… not, for a while, even just a few minutes, had been startlingly… peaceful. Peaceful, but disturbing after the fact, to have let his guard down like that.

Is this how people normally feel? Without a constant sense of impending disaster?

From behind the house, Kazeharu could still hear when Tubby greeted guests on the front steps. It wasn’t usually his concern - the only person that ever came specifically to see him was Kaedehara, and he didn’t hear that familiar voice, so he tuned the conversation out as usual and kept working out his frustrations on the metal he was pounding. Thus, he was caught off guard when he heard two sets of footsteps turn and head towards his workshop. He couldn’t step away from his current task before he finished, if he wanted this sword to be functional, so the best he could manage was a quick glance towards the little trail beaten into the grass by the side of the house. Rex Lapis - Zhongli, he reminded himself - was striding confidently towards him, a smaller figure in tow.

Now that was odd. Aside from the occasional word exchanged in passing when the older man visited with Xiao for their usual game sessions with Aether, they didn’t interact with each other. What could he possibly want now? Nothing to do but wait and see. This sword needed his attention.

“Master Niwa,” the former archon said, greeting him politely. “It is a pleasure to see you again.”

“Zhongli,” he said neutrally, not turning his attention from the blade on his anvil. “If you’re looking for the Traveler, I don’t know where he is either. Somewhere in Fontaine, still, trying to clean up the mess Focalors just made. He might be back later.”

“The teapot spirit has assured us that you should be able to help with our current problem.”

“Well,” the puppet said, flipping the glowing metal to the other side so he could match the hammerwork he’d just done on the first side, “You’re gonna have to wait until I can put this down, then. I can’t stop until I’ve finished this set of folds, or it’ll be brittle and prone to snapping in a fight. Might as well throw it out at that point.”

“I will admit to being intrigued by the display of traditional Inazuman metalwork,” the man said, amber eyes watching each strike of the hammer with fascination. “Liyue’s techniques are very different. But as much as I would appreciate a thorough instructional demonstration, I am afraid I will have to satisfy my curiosity some other time. I should hopefully be able to convey the issue at hand while you work the blade to an acceptable stopping point.”

“Out with it, then,” Kazeharu said. He wasn’t able to look away for long enough to get a good look at the second person who had come with Zhongli, but he caught a glimpse of red hair.

“To put it simply, Miss Tonia here is in need of safe lodgings away from the eyes of the Fatui. We were previously informed the Traveler had volunteered should that become necessary.”

He knew that name. He lifted his head to double check that yes, there was a red haired girl that could feasibly be related to Childe standing there. The implications of that statement were nothing he wanted to think about right then, but there was something important that needed to be addressed. “Where are the other two?”

“Big brother couldn’t persuade papa to let Anthon and Teucer come with me to visit Liyue,” the girl said, the first thing she’d said this whole time. He managed another quick glance for a better look at her. She appeared to be having a hard time dealing with the noise of the forge, her hands clasped over her ears and her eyebrows scrunched together uncomfortably. “He said they were too young, especially since Teucer keeps running off… He only let me go because Jaxie persuaded him it would be a good opportunity for my education to study with Master Zhongli. I think they didn’t realize I was there, at first, because this is the first they’ve come for me.”

“I sent Xiao to find the house and check on them,” Zhongli informed him, hands clasped behind his back. “Childe had intended to try again to remove them to somewhere safer, but it seems he ran out of time.”

“Damn,” Kazeharu said, mouth thinning to a grim line. “We’d heard he’d disappeared, but hadn’t been able to investigate yet. At least he took the warning seriously, but that doesn’t sound good.” If they’d moved on the family at the same time as Childe, it might already be far too late, but he wasn’t going to say that in front of the kid.

“Wait,” he added after a moment. “Sending an adeptus all the way up to Snezhnaya isn’t going to trigger some kind of foreign god interference clause or something, is it, old man?” He searched his mind for anything he could remember about the regulations concerning deities and demigods in Snezhnaya’s laws, but only vaguely recalled something about requiring a permit to perform divine feats. As a harbinger, that hadn’t been a concern for him.

“The Cryo Archon will not be able to sense his presence as long as he controls his aura, if that is your concern,” the former archon said. He would know. “As long as he does not claim any followers or hand out blessings, no laws will be explicitly broken.”

“And implicitly?” Kazeharu inquired, cocking an eyebrow at the older man as he switched to the tongs and lifted the partially formed blade over to the cooling racks. With it safely stored, he was finally able to start shutting down the forge, banking the fire and lowering the furnace guard before returning his favorite hammer to its spot on the shelf next to his other tools.

“It is generally frowned upon to visit another nation without declaring your presence to the god of the territory in question,” Zhongli said, “but as long as he commits no offenses it would usually be overlooked. The trip should be short enough that it won’t be a concern.”

“Mmn,” the puppet said in wordless assent, giving himself a cursory wipe down with a clean, damp rag to remove any residual soot, before finally replacing his haori and lifting his kasa off its hook to settle it firmly on his head.

There was a gasp from Tonia, and she pointed at him in surprise. “Oh Archons, that’s a hat? I thought it was a shield! I’d never have guessed - you must be the blue hat man Teucer was telling us about! I thought he said you were in Liyue?”

“I was there for work,” he said shortly, not wanting to discuss it with the girl. “I don’t live there. Let’s go.”

He set off for the front of the house without waiting for them. Behind him, he heard her ask, worried, “Did I make him mad? Should I not have called him that?” and Zhongli’s amused reply gently informing her that ‘Master Niwa’ simply wasn’t fond of conversation. That was true, but he also didn’t want to think about the reminder of the much smaller child, who would have been completely unprepared and utterly betrayed if something had happened…

He distracted himself with the problem at hand. They’d talked about this; if worst came to worst, the three kids could stay in the spare room while they figured out a more permanent arrangement. That there was only one kid didn’t change the plan. That meant he had to dig out the room’s key from Aether’s piles of hoarded materials in the cellar before he could show her to the other upstairs chamber, across from his. At least it was where he remembered, and he didn’t have to waste time searching for it.

“There’s a bathroom,” he informed her, handing off the key and folding his arms, “and the door locks from the inside, if that’ll make you feel safer. Afraid I can’t do anything about clothes for the moment, but if you don’t have anything with you I can probably pick something up from the bazaar. Kitchen is under the stairs on your side of the balcony and cooking for yourself is fine, just don’t use up everything.”

“I should be able to retrieve the majority of her belongings from both my house and her hotel room,” Zhongli supplied, “though perhaps not immediately. The Fatui will be watching the room, of course, so it will take some effort.”

“That solves the clothes problem, then,” Kazeharu said with a nod. “Listen, kid,” he added reluctantly, turning his attention back to her. “Ae-” he stopped and corrected himself immediately, “I'viathe isn’t gonna be able to stick around much right now, and he’s the only one that can summon the house spirit. Don’t bother going to look for it in the gardens, they’re huge and you could get lost. If you really need something,” he continued gruffly, pointing at the room with the tea house light sitting outside it, “my room’s right there, across the way. If I’m not there, I’m probably out back where you found me in the first place.” At least until he could ensure someone else could be there with her, since much of his work could be done from here.

She was holding together admirably, for a little kid that was old enough to understand something was very, very wrong, he’d give her that. She just solemnly shook her head when he asked her if she’d any questions. Was there anything else he should do? Food, maybe. Humans needed food frequently, and it was evening now.

“You eat?” he asked, and she shook her head again. “Dinner, then,” he said, starting towards the stairs.

“I should monitor my house,” Zhongli said with a bow. “If the Fatui come back I will want to show them the interior this time to prove she isn’t there, and Xiao will likely return there first with any news. I will be sure to rejoin you once there is anything to share.”

“We’ll be here,” the puppet said as the former archon disappeared, presumably back to his place to throw the Fatui off the track.

That left him alone with the kid. Childe’s little sister. Who quite possibly didn’t have brothers anymore.

“Right,” he said, turning away before he could get any more sentimental than he already was. “Food.”

The girl trailed him silently down the stairs and over to the kitchen, where he put her to work measuring rice so she had something to distract herself with. He set two pots of tea to boil - one for him and the rice, and one of Aether’s favorite blends that he’d noticed the man would brew when he got tense or angry. It always seemed to calm him down so it wouldn’t hurt to try it on the kid.

The redhead remained silent all the way through the rice cooking, the tea pots boiling, and the ochazuke being served, answering questions with simple nods or shakes of her head. One spoonful of honey became two after she had her first sip of tea and tried to hide a grimace from him (he saw it, of course, and added the extra honey before she could protest, scowling at her when she tried to tell him she didn’t need it anyway). The food at least, she ate without complaint, though she ate so slowly he suspected she’d lost her appetite. Not surprising, considering how anxious she must be.

Aether still hadn’t made an appearance when they’d finished, and the kid joined him washing the dishes without his asking, and then he poured her another cup of tea and added two more spoonfuls of honey. She seemed content to sit on the central couches, staring blankly at the elaborate scrolls and ceremonial gliders Aether had decorated the walls with and taking the very occasional small sip.

He didn’t feel comfortable leaving her alone. She looked too much like she was in some kind of shock, and he wasn’t trained for this sort of thing. In the Fatui, his division’s field medics had dealt with any mental crises brusquely and concisely, and he was absolutely certain that that was not the route one should take with a potentially traumatized underage civilian. 

Perhaps Buer would know what to do.

Buer, he sent, calmly - he was very calm right now. Extremely calm. What am I supposed to do for a little kid that’s been through something traumatic? I fed her and she has tea and she’s sitting on the couch staring at nothing like I used to in those first days with you.

Oh, sweetpea, she said, all warmth and sympathy, like a cozy mental blanket to tuck gently around the uncertainty gnawing at the hollow in his chest. If she’s not hurt, then sometimes all you can offer is your presence. That she’s not alone and someone is there for her when she needs it is a lot more than it seems. We sat in silence together a lot too, if you remember.

Okay, he thought back, still uncomfortable, but what about after that? Does someone need to stay in her room with her when she sleeps so she’s not alone then either? Should I be telling her that things will be okay, even though I’m pretty sure they’re not and she’s old enough to know that? What about when we get news and we know for sure that things aren’t okay? Do I tell her? How? 

Take a deep breath, Kazeharu.

I don’t need to breathe, Buer!

Breathe, she insisted. Focus on the feeling of the air flowing in and out of your lungs. 

She paused as though she actually expected him to do that, so he gave in and drew a breath, then expelled it. He didn’t feel any better.

You’ll be fine, she said gently, a warm undercurrent of belief in her thoughts. So will she. Do you remember when you spoke with Paimon after your accident? Don’t lie to her, but you don’t have to tell her every detail. The important thing is for you to listen to what the girl says, and speak with her honestly. That doesn’t mean you need to tell her all the horrible pieces of the truth - just what’s important so she knows she’s not being kept in the dark.

Okay, but-

Sweetpea. Breathe. Do you want me to come over?

He was a half millenia old with memories of two lives, powerful enough to threaten lesser gods, and possessed enough survival skills for ten people. He absolutely did not need Buer coming over and meddling in anything, and definitely not for some kid that he didn’t even know.

Yes, please, he admitted grudgingly.

I’ll be there, she said simply, and withdrew.

And just minutes later, there she was, on her tiptoes opening the front door, big green eyes smiling at him softly.

“Kazeharu,” she greeted him, pulling him into a hug that he willingly knelt down for. Tonia, still sitting on the couch, had finally turned her head to watch the appearance of a newcomer. “Introduce me to your friend, will you?” was all Buer said, smiling gently at the stiffly wary girl as though she was just someone there for a normal social visit.

“This is Tonia,” he said, awkwardly, folding his arms - when had he ever needed to introduce another person before? Certainly never as Kabukimono or Kunikuzushi, and as Scaramouche, he was the person that was important enough to introduce. “She’s Childe’s little sister, who the Fatui are looking for.”

“Ahh,” Buer said, a light dawning in her eyes, as though that explained so much more than what he’d actually said. I think I know how to handle this, her voice whispered in his mind. Let’s give her a connection to you to ground her. “I see, your former colleague’s sister. No wonder you were so worried when we talked.”

He flinched back in surprise. “Wh - Buer??” He could feel all his carefully constructed and laboriously prepared explanations and subterfuges crashing down around him, as with those few words she revealed him for what he was to this unknowingly dangerous little girl. She was Childe’s sister; she would never keep such a secret from the man. 

As though she’d heard every word of the thoughts racing through his head - she probably had - the little god sent him a reassuring glance and said calmly, hopping up to sit next to the girl on the couch and laying a tiny hand on her knee, “Hello, Tonia, I’m Nahida. I’m Kazeharu’s guardian. Don’t be scared, you’re going to be just fine. Everyone will be looking after you the best we can while we find your brother,” she said, smiling reassuringly at the redhead. She lowered her voice conspiratorially to add, “The wanderer here doesn’t have the best conversational skills, but he’s been very, very worried about all of you, right from the start - that’s why he sent your brother that note. He knows from his own experience just how badly things can go when a Harbinger is removed from their position, and he’s going to do everything he can to make sure that your big brother doesn’t get hurt too badly.”

“Mister Niwa was the one who warned Jaxie that something was wrong?” Tonia said with a gasp, turning to look at him as though he had suddenly transformed from a total stranger into a familiar, friendly face. It was extremely disconcerting, and he took the opportunity to duck behind the brim of his hat so he didn’t have to see it.

“Yes, he was, sweetie,” Buer said, patting the girl’s hand comfortingly, “so you know that he’s already been working hard to try and help you out. Nobody knows he used to be a Harbinger himself except for just a few of us, you see. I can promise you that if the Fatui haven’t been able to find him here all this time, they won’t find you here, either.” Admittedly, that had more to do with the fact that this was an adeptal realm with no visitors permitted without the traveler’s express permission than it did the Fatui’s locating skills, but he would agree that the little god’s statement was a form of proof that the girl’d probably be more ready to accept.

“Really??” the kid said, tense shoulders finally relaxing a little, so clearly relieved that Kazeharu reluctantly admitted he couldn’t fault Buer’s strategy anymore. It had been extremely effective, and perhaps he ought to be taking notes for the next time he had to deal with something like this. (Never, he hoped.) “I’ve been so, so worried-! Even Mister Zhongli said he wasn’t sure where my brother went.”

“It’s not really a case of not knowing where he is anymore,” Kazeharu felt compelled to point out, lifting his head enough to look directly at the two girls on the couch. “There’s only one or two places that could be, now that we know for sure the Fatui are involved. Getting to him, however, is a different matter entirely. Fatui main base, and research headquarters, will both still have ley line blockers installed across the whole compound. Security is much, much tighter there than at an operations base - teleportation isn’t allowed even near them.”

“I see,” the girl said, curling her hands protectively around her teacup, staring into it as if it held answers. Buer patted her back comfortingly as the kid said, sadly, “That’s why Mister Xiao couldn’t just go get him when we realized he was missing for real. I wondered about that.”

“Hey,” he said brusquely, unfolding an arm to catch her attention before she could start crying or weeping or something even worse. “I got away from them; your brother can too. It’s honestly the best thing that ever happened to me, even if it was horrible and difficult at the time.”

“Was it really that bad, Mister Niwa?” the redhead said plaintively, and oh, oops, perhaps he should’ve been a little more careful with his words in front of the kid. Too late, now. He really wasn’t good at this whole reassuring thing.

“It took him a long time to recover,” Buer said, before he could accidentally add anything else alarming. “And he was very, very sad to have lost all his friends there. But he’s got me now, and the Traveler, and other new friends, and all of us are really glad we met him.”

“And my brother,” Tonia said, looking oddly hopeful. “If big brother’s not with the Fatui anymore either, then that means you can be friends again, right?”

“…Yeah,” he said, avoiding her gaze, not wanting to disappoint her by telling her they hadn’t ever been friends, just vaguely tolerable coworkers. “Yeah, sure.”

Buer shot him a knowing smile, probably filing that away under his list of weaknesses: can’t make kids sad. He was a ruthless, hardened (former) criminal, damnit, why was he always so awkward when it came to every stupid half-grown brat he encountered?

“Come sit down with us, sweetpea,” the little god said, patting the cushion on her other side. “I’m sure you-“

“Buer,” he hissed, face heating, “you can’t just call me that out loud - in front of-!” 

And the redhead giggled. He could feel the last shreds of his dignity slipping away from him as she laughed quietly into her hand, breathy tittering that didn’t stop. There was an edge to it, he realized in the back of his mind, an almost hysterical quality to the sound, and his embarrassment dissolved into rising concern as the girl kept going. It was like she couldn’t stop, and as she sat there gulping air between her desperate, choking cries, he realized that it wasn’t laughter anymore, but sobbing. Ah, fuck. Now what?

“Oh,” Buer said, softly. “Oh, sweetie. Come here,” she said, gathering the larger girl in with her tiny arms and holding her the best she could. Tonia didn’t even try to stop her, burying her face in the god’s flowing white ponytail, somehow avoiding the intricate half-crown that held it up. He stood there awkwardly as she devolved further into a hiccuping, blubbering mess, and wondered uneasily what the hell he was supposed to do about this. 

Think, he told himself.

Okay. When he’d really, truly cried last, Aether had held him like Buer was holding Tonia. That part was taken care of. So were the reassuring words and comforting thoughts. Then, when he’d begun to calm, Kaedehara had had water waiting for him. That he could do, and he hurried to the kitchen. She already had tea, didn’t she? Maybe she didn’t need water. But then, the tea was warm, and he remembered how soothing the cool water had been against his flushed and overheated body. 

Water it was. And so he filled a cold glass and brought it back to sit on the little table by the couches, while Buer murmured reassurances into the girl’s shuddering frame. And then he waited, until the shaking slowed and her gasping grew less frantic, and when she pulled away he had it ready for her to hold in trembling hands to sip at while she recovered. Crisis averted - for now, at least.

He really hoped Aether would be back soon.

Chapter Text

He hasn’t always been this way, he knows. As Kabukimono, he’d never questioned what he was told - to his later downfall - and similarly, he’d felt only confusion when faced with lies and deceit. What would be the point in saying something that isn’t a fact? Anyone can see the sky is blue. Saying it isn’t doesn’t change that. He hadn’t known, then, just how much the belief in the untruth is what matters, not the truth itself.

Anyone can be persuaded of anything with the right words, if they aren’t on guard. It’s a power he’s learned to wield himself, double-edged blade though it is.

Kazeharu was still sitting at the central table, reading his backlog of reports, when the front door opened again later that night. There was a brief bubble of hope that rose inside him as the wind gently tugged his hair to get his attention, but then he had to hastily wipe the disappointment off his face when he saw it wasn’t Aether, but just the two adepti. Xiao, on seeing him, offered a curt nod, which he returned. Zhongli had what seemed to be the girl’s luggage following him, piled on a wide floating geo construct, and simply asked, without preamble, “How is she doing?”

“The girl’s asleep,” he said quietly, flipping the cover of the current folder shut so the papers, even innocuous as these particular ones were, were hidden. “She wore herself out crying and then we put her to bed. The Traveler still isn’t back yet, so Buer’s sitting with her now since she didn’t want to be by herself. From the-” he thought better of the more colorful language he had been about to use where someone might hear if she was awake and switched tracks gracefully “-distinct lack of her brothers, I’m assuming they weren’t there?”

“The house at the indicated location was ashes when I arrived,” Xiao said, just as quietly, eyes flickering across potential hiding places in the mansion as though he suspected it of being unsafe even there. Not that there was anything there; Kazeharu’d already checked them all himself out of habit, as usual. “Not fresh, probably a week old, and snowed over at least once. Three adult skeletons in the wreckage; no child-sized remains.”

The wanderer tapped his fingers against his chin, calculating. Presumably that meant the two younger children had been taken, not killed. It was questionable whether that was a good thing or not, considering who had them, but it did at least mean there was a possibility they could be rescued. If they were being used to guarantee Tartaglia’s cooperation there was a reasonable chance they’d be left relatively intact.

Zhongli, distracted, said thoughtfully, gazing up at the balcony, “Buer, you say? I have not met her latest incarnation after she lost her memories. Perhaps I should introduce myself when I bring up Miss Tonia’s things. We used to have the most enjoyable conversations together.”

“Feel free,” Kazeharu said, rolling his eyes and waving a hand in the general direction of the spare room. Of course the erudite old lizard would find her philosophical ramblings interesting. “It’s not like she’s got anything else to do right now. Just try not to wake the kid up, yeah?” He was not mentally prepared to deal with another breakdown this close to the last.

“Of course,” the former archon said, barely taking the time to sketch out the semblance of a proper bow before eagerly hurrying up the stairs with the geo platform in tow. 

Realizing they’d been abandoned to continue the discussion alone, the two shorter men eyed each other warily instead of speaking. It wasn’t like they had anything in common, other than a mutual agreement not to let Aether get killed in the course of his heroics. The silent tension stretched on awkwardly for what seemed like ages, until Xiao finally broke it.

“The Traveler,” Xiao said, stiffly, avoiding the wanderer’s gaze. “The issue we spoke of, before. Has it been resolved?”

It took him a second to realize what the other man meant, since they hardly ever exchanged even a word when they saw each other. “You mean, him having a death wish?” He continued without waiting for Xiao’s confirming nod. “Yeah, no, actually. I shit you not, the idiot tried to sacrifice himself to save Fontaine literally yesterday. I had to fly in and save his ass again.” Hard to believe that was really only yesterday with all that’d happened, but he wasn’t going to get into any of that with the dour adeptus, whose face had darkened in a grim disappointment.

“That is unacceptable,” the man said with a scowl, thumping the butt of his spear on the floor for emphasis.

“Damn straight,” Kazeharu agreed. “He should’ve just let Fontaine’s Archon reap what she sowed.” He snorted unkindly, and added under his breath, “Justice, my ass. Buer knows more about justice than that hypocrite ever will.”

“Buer,” the adeptus repeated with a frown, looking up at the balcony. After a moment, he lowered his gaze again and said, warily, “She is your patron god, is she not? As Morax is mine.”

His mouth twisted uncomfortably. “I mean sure, you could say that, I guess. If you want to compare yourself to a former mass murderer, anyway. I wouldn’t recommend it.”

Xiao’s head turned sharply at that, and he realized perhaps too late that he had just admitted that disturbing piece of information to the Conquerer of Demons, the adeptus notorious for his merciless conduct towards the subjects of his judgment. True, he never touched mortals, but Kazeharu wasn’t exactly a mere mortal to be excused for his failures.

He couldn’t help but begin to tense under the other man’s sharp, calculating stare, wondering if he was going to have to fight off an attack, here of all places. Perhaps Aether would return to find the puppet in well-deserved pieces on the floor of the mansion. At least that would save him the trouble of tracking down the rest of his victims to offer them a chance at justice.

“I, too, bear the blood of innocents on my hands,” the man said slowly, after another long, drawn-out silence - knuckles white where he gripped his spear, pointedly not looking at the wanderer. “Morax would have been well within his rights to execute me immediately when he slew my first master.”

What.

He didn’t remember reading about that in the Fatui file on the adepti, just that the man was dangerous and uncompromising and had served Rex Lapis since the Archon War itself, and his eyebrows furrowed in sudden confusion. 

“I will never understand his reasoning,” the older man continued, “but I do not need to understand to slay his enemies and guard his lands.” He gave a short, sharp nod, with a finality to it that couldn’t be missed. “If Buer has also granted you that same clemency,” the adeptus stated calmly, in a peculiar kind of reassurance, “then I cannot be the one to question it, for my own atonement will never be complete.”

My own atonement will never be complete. His mind reeled from this sudden revelation. Was this dangerous, well-known force for good, who had sacrificed his life in service to his archon… seriously in the same position as Kazeharu?

Was he seeing his future standing before him, then? Two thousand years hence, would he still be guarding the vast desert sands and towering jungle trees of Sumeru, a dark force to support Buer’s light hand? A lifetime of unceasing vigilance to repay the god who spared his life?

He wasn’t sure he wanted that future, as much as he was secretly beginning to grow fond of the land and its diminutive archon. Maybe, if Aether was there too… but he didn’t want to think about the fact that by that point, the traveler would be long gone on his journey across the stars. He would have no reason to stay, once he had recovered his true power and properly raised his adopted foundling, and every reason to leave with his sister.

“I don’t suppose he also gave you a new name,” he muttered finally, after letting all of it sink in, grasping desperately for something non-offensive to say.

“I am proud to carry it for him.” 

That was a yes, then. He huffed out a laugh, and his quick tongue got the better of him before he could think to silence himself. “Do the other Archons adopt stray feral murderers too, or just ours?” Surely this couldn’t be normal. The only other archons he was personally familiar with were certainly not the type for mercy, or understanding, seeing as the first had abandoned him without hesitation, and the second had secretly signed his death warrant. “Don’t bother answering that,” he added hastily, folding his arms and awkwardly avoiding the other man’s gaze. “That was rhetorical.”

The adeptus considered him silently for a moment, his own arms folded in a manner so very akin to Kazeharu’s unconscious defensive posture, spear resting casually against the crook of an elbow, before speaking. “Ve-” Whatever name he’d been about to say was quickly cut off with a faint flicker of reticence in those yellow eyes, and replaced as if hoping the slip wouldn’t be noticed. 

“Someone once explained to me,” he began again, slowly. “That the Archons embody their principals in more than a symbolic way. Morax is willing to form contracts with all those who will honor them, and instinctively knows their hearts because of that. Buer dreams the dreams of all who sleep, and all who hope, embracing the wisdom of their minds both resting and waking. The other Archons, though… do not represent concepts that involve such intimate comprehension of the natures of their subjects. Save Barbatos, who understands the innate desire and pain of the prisoners who long for whatever freedom has been denied them - but he, as freedom, will also never impose his own desires on a released prisoner.”

“No,” Xiao continued. “It is only those two who would grant mercy in such a manner, or be capable of it.”

“What part of ‘rhetorical’ didn’t you understand?” the puppet muttered sourly. He didn’t want to hear that he was unique, that he’d been granted something most people wouldn’t receive. After all he’d done, he didn’t deserve that kind of consideration. There were people far more deserving of a second chance than he. 

People like his father. 

He knew that would never happen now, even after offering his life in exchange, and the ever-present guilt reared its head again from where it lay quiescent in the depths of his mind and gnawed hungrily at him from inside. A familiar, weighty ache.

“I do not know your Buer,” the adeptus said, glancing up the stairs once again, “but Morax has also deemed your existence worthwhile, for him to have formed even an unspoken contract with you. That, at least, I trust without question.”

Horror flashed through him, and he sputtered in denial. “Wait, what? I didn’t-” Forming a contract with the very god of contracts himself was the absolute last thing he’d want to do, because he knew that accidentally breaking such a contract on a mere technicality could be just as dangerous as breaking one intentionally.

“The girl,” Xiao said solemnly, his voice growing deeper. “You agreed to help her.”

…oh. So he had, at least implicitly.

Kazeharu guessed that perhaps that could be considered a kind of contract - considering Morax’s very nature, it wouldn’t actually be surprising for him to think of it as such - but framing it in that way just made the puppet nervous about the suddenly nebulous and undefined terms and conditions that the arrangement was now composed of. He suspected the adeptus was well aware of the sudden unease he felt, by the way the man was stiffly gazing towards the ceiling at nothing in particular just as the wanderer was feeling the urge to retreat.

They were rescued by the click of the front door as it opened yet again.

This time it was Aether, Paimon draped sleepily across his shoulders, and Kazeharu couldn’t help the way his internal tension eased, just a little, at seeing him. The adeptus hadn’t missed that tiny movement, and his eyes flickered briefly to the puppet with a sudden look of comprehension that passed as swiftly as it arrived, before turning his gaze back to the traveler. The wanderer scowled at him, not liking the assumptions he was certain the other man was making, even if they were likely true. It wasn’t anyone’s business but his and Aether’s.

“My two most taciturn companions, peacefully talking together. Something’s happened, hasn’t it?” was the first thing out of the blonde’s mouth, taking in their serious demeanors and Xiao’s unexpected presence.

“Tartaglia’s confirmed missing, his sister is upstairs in the spare room, and his two younger siblings are also gone,” the puppet informed him bluntly. “Zhongli and Buer are upstairs with the girl. Xiao was at the family house and says it’s been burned.”

“…damn,” was all Aether said, one hand rising to massage his temples as a headache clearly began to set in. “Let me get Paimon to bed, and then you can catch me up to speed.”

“Actually,” Kazeharu said, spotting an opportunity and smoothly manipulating the conversation, “I think little miss Paipai can help with this.” He saw the girl’s head perk up at her mention, halo wobbling and sleepiness briefly subsiding as he caught her attention. “Tonia’s terrified of being left alone right now - you can understand that, right squirt? - and Buer’s got work to do so she can’t stay here forever.” He thought it was pretty obvious where he was going with this, but he spelled it out for her just in case. “So we need someone to do the very important job of making sure Tonia doesn’t wake up by herself.”

She blinked in confusion, not getting why he was volunteering her. “You want… Paimon to watch her?”

“You’re the perfect candidate,” he said persuasively, radiating practiced subversive charm. “She’ll be so much less anxious if she’s got another girl her age there when she wakes up who understands just how scary it is to be left all alone. All you need to do is sleep upstairs in her room instead, like you’re her roommate. You’re super brave, so you can show her how to deal with the scary stuff, right? And you’ve got your sword now too, in case something actually happens.”

“Yes, Paimon can do it!” the little sprite said, eyes brightening with conviction, determinedly clenching a fist as she slid off Aether’s shoulder to hover in the air again. “Paimon will be the best and most amazing roommate there is! Tonia won’t be scared of anything when Paimon’s done with her!”

“Well, then,” Aether said, clearly suppressing a smile as the corner of his mouth twitched. “Seems like you’ve got work to do, Pai. Why don’t you grab your special blanket and your star friend and take them upstairs to show her when she wakes up?”

“Yes!” Paimon said, darting off towards the master bedroom, emerging moments later with her nightlight, blanket, and her overstuffed aranara. “Paimon is on the job! She won’t be scared anymore with Paimon there!” she declared, hauling the items upstairs with excessive enthusiasm.

The wanderer hadn’t expected that to be quite so easy, and he shot the traveler a concerned look. The man just shrugged, amused smile still tugging at the corner of his lips as he rounded the couch to sit down by the puppet. “Well, with that out of the way, tell me everything,” he said, gesturing for Xiao to sit down himself. The adeptus hesitated briefly, clearly not wanting to relax his guard, but finally dismissed his spear and sat across from them to summarize things.

“So basically,” Aether said, once Xiao had finished recounting the day’s events, “The Fatui have Childe, his two younger brothers, and made a belated attempt to take Tonia once they located her. You’ve moved her here now to keep her safe, and are doing what else?”

“Once Zhongli is finished here I will be returning to the house to do a more thorough sweep of the area. There were already obvious inconsistencies in the apparent scenario there - not the least of which was the fact that one of the adult remains in the wreckage was tainted with the residue of delusion usage,” Xiao said pointedly.

“Presumably a Fatui casualty, burned with the house to cover the loss,” Aether said thoughtfully.

“The parents resisted the move, then,” Kazeharu muttered to himself. “Fiercely, if someone died.” If the Fatui could have taken the kids and vanished with them, they would have. In the normal course of things, Her Majesty preferred to disappear problematic Snezhnayans, rather than kill them outright. Had things gone to plan, the house would have still been there, but empty, leaving the question of what had happened to the inhabitants a mystery (not that anyone didn’t know what it meant when a family disappeared, it was just that it was a lot easier to gloss over). That they’d burned it instead meant that there’d been structural damage to it that couldn’t be cleaned or hidden from future witnesses-

“What about the rest of the family?” he asked, belatedly. Two non-Fatui corpses didn’t cover all of them.

“Based on my infiltration of the local’s dreams there were no other incidents in the town or nearby in that timeframe,” Xiao said. “The two dead civilians were likely the parents. The third is reputed in the local Fatui forces to be the harbinger himself, but the residue was cryo, not electro, which eliminates that possibility.”

“Judging from the way Childe never mentioned them, the older siblings were estranged from him,” Aether said with a frown. “The Fatui must not have thought they’d be effective leverage. That at least means we only need to track down the two boys and the ex-harbinger.”

“The boys are priority. Children,” the adeptus said firmly, his eyes glinting and tone full of menace, “should not be incarcerated.” Ah. That certainly explained why the man was involved, despite his clear aversion to the Fatui in general, and Childe in particular. The statement sounded extremely personal, and Kazeharu wondered briefly what had happened before Morax had stepped in to mentor the adeptus all those years ago. Had he been one such child, then, with the blood of others on his hands? Not that he really wanted to know.

“They might be in the same place, or at least nearby,” Aether pointed out calmly. “They’ll have to be able to prove the continuing well-being of the hostages to Childe if that’s how they’re playing this.”

“The funny thing is,” the puppet muttered, leaning back to gaze at the ceiling, “if they’d just taken him and left his family alone, he’d have gone along with it in the end out of sheer patriotism and been happy about it. All they’ve done by bringing in hostages is ensured that the man won’t want to cooperate anymore and will hold a serious grudge if he gets away. Completely unnecessary move. Practically self-defeating, in fact.”

"Consequences don’t matter anymore,” Aether said, giving him a wry smile, “so long as they happen after their goal is achieved. That’s how close they feel they are.”

“And that’s when you’re the most vulnerable,” Kazeharu replied with a dismissive snort and a roll of his eyes. “I’d know that better than most.”

Xiao, silently watching this amiable back-and-forth, said quietly, “Haste leaves openings.”

“Exploitable openings,” the puppet emphasized with a vicious grin. “Off the top of my head I can list at least three mistakes they’ve made that we could use. The first is that they’ve pissed off Childe - he’s going to at least be open to helping get his brothers out, if not more. He may be the weakest Harbinger, but he’s still stronger than the rank and file grunts by miles. The second is that they’ve left traces; the dead Fatuus at the house, and the fire itself. It would be possible to trace the delusion residue Xiao sensed using elemental sight, and the fire used to burn the house was probably elemental, not natural, if they wanted to be certain that the evidence was sufficiently obscured. Also traceable.”

“Are you suggesting I follow the trail of the delusion’s owner?” Xiao said, face impassive. “Their death will have hastened its dissipation, a week gone.”

“No, no,” he said, waving away the suggestion. “You’re right that it’s too late for actual tracking by now, but we could still learn the general direction or strength potentially. The third mistake,” he continued, “is that we have a witness.” He jerked his thumb in the direction of the upstairs bedroom. “Sure, that’s not going to help us rescue anyone, but it does mean they’re going to be expending a lot of resources to tie up that loose end - resources they won’t be using to guard their prisoners.”

“Resources we could cut off from their source,” Aether said with a frown, “and remove from the equation entirely if necessary.”

“It’s probable that they’ll be holding Childe in a custom lab built just for him - considering the amount of planning that went into-” my own betrayal, with my own custom lab, he didn’t say aloud, though he knew Aether heard the unspoken words by the way his mouth thinned in muted anger. “It could be somewhere out in the wilds of Snezhnaya, but I can’t think of any reason they’d feel he was dangerous enough to put him away from the main base, considering he was only number eleven - Dottore would want to have all his little toys to play with if possible.”

“It could still be somewhere else, if they think the result could be dangerous,” the traveler pointed out. “The prior experiment, Shouki no Kami, decimated most of the lab it was built in, you know.”

How kind of the man not to point out that that had been him, at that point, at least not in front of Xiao. It didn’t need to be said, anyway; Kazeharu had understood immediately. Childe himself might not be considered a threat, but whatever they were planning on doing to him could change that. They were unlikely to test things on the Tsaritsa, so someone else would be getting the implanted gnosis treatment first.

…He hoped it wasn’t Dottore.

He really, really hoped it wasn’t a Dottore.

Chapter Text

Admittedly, his own words are never as honeyed as Signora’s, never as poisoned as Dottore’s. He’s always preferred wielding his words bluntly, cleanly. The truth can be just as devastating as any lie, and he’s never been fond of lying when he can just share the eternal existential despair of living. Manipulation, though, doesn’t necessarily require lies - simple omissions are enough to lead the unwary astray, tone of voice enough to establish a connection that was never truly there.

But for all his skill in deciphering deceit, the simple honesty of the traveler’s gentle concern for him is something he can’t deny. Not anymore, not after all this time. The man truly does feel these things for his former enemy, as absurd as it is.

Maybe that honesty is what made those arms feel so safe.

“Do you think you made the right decision?” she asked quietly, sitting on her customary manifested perch of twining dendro energy. The faintly green illumination provided by the drifting fragments of her power cast a dim glow over the small, cozy room, that Aether had so lovingly set up in anticipation of hosting the three fugitive children, and lay quietly on the peacefully sleeping face of the single girl that had actually made it there safely. Despite her now composed appearance, the evidence of her prior misery was still there in the swollen edges of her eyelids and the slight downturn to her lips, though the tearstained tracks down her face had all been gently wiped clean before she retreated into the dubious safety of dreams - dubious, at least, had Nahida not been there watching her to ensure that she dreamt of nothing more frightening than a collapsed snowman.

“For Liyue?” the man next to her in the comfortable armchair at the bedside asked in return, knowing exactly what she meant. “Yes. Always.”

“But how were you so sure?” she asked, seeking clarification. The idea that she could put her people in danger for what seemed to be nothing more than a fleeting urge to step back from the spotlight was horrifying. “Your people were already comfortable and happy, living fulfilling lives. It was one thing to realize what had to be done when my government was oppressing and cruelly exploiting our own people, but your crisis was entirely manufactured by your own hand, Morax.” The former archon tilted his head in acknowledgment of this undeniable statement, waiting for her to finish her thought before responding. “I understand that it went exactly as you planned, that no one died and Snezhnaya left you and the country both alone after obtaining your gnosis, but how were you so certain that it was the right thing to do instead of steering for a course with no conflict?”

“Let me ask you a question in return, then, Buer,” he said, steepling his fingers thoughtfully, his amber gaze looking far out past the walls of the little room, focusing upon a sight only he could see. “When all roads lead to disaster, which path do you choose?”

“The path that leads to the least harm, of course.” That was obvious. It must relate to her question, though, for him to bring it up now. Had he been so certain that Liyue would face a calamity of that magnitude?

“Correct,” he said, nodding slowly, those thin fingers tipping slightly to point at her in recognition of her answer. “If a hurricane at sea is approaching the shore, then preparations must be made to mitigate the damage and to save as many lives as possible.”

“A more apt metaphor for her might be a blizzard,” she murmured with a hint of a smile, swinging her legs forward to gently rock back and forth. “Is she really that much of a threat?”

“You don’t know her anymore, Buer,” the older god said quietly. “She’s paranoid, and obsessed with her revenge. The gentle god I once knew died in Khaenri’ah with the others, just as you almost did.”

“But was she truly so dangerous to Liyue itself?” she asked, turning to look at him directly, leaning against the supporting dendro vine that grew from that side of her seat.

“You need only judge the results of her forays into the other nations - your own, for instance - to know the answer to that question. Some variety of crisis became inevitable once she set her sights on Celestia,” he explained, with certainty. “Even should I have avoided relinquishing my gnosis to her without consequences, the planned war, with no certain victory without her bearing all seven, would eventually spill over our borders in an unmanageable disaster. That is even leaving aside the fact that had I refused her the gnosis, I would have expected her to attempt to take it on her own - and she would have had every opportunity to inflict the same convoluted plotting and chaos upon Liyue as the other nations, and without intervention, many, many people could have died before her war even started.”

“By arranging for the conflict to occur under my supervision,” he continued, raising a finger instructionally, “I was able to allow it to happen in a controlled fashion, where I could ensure that minimal damage would be inflicted - and in addition, tacitly offer my support for her endeavor without overtly pledging myself to her cause, or drawing the attention of Celestia to myself or Liyue in the process. As an added bonus, I was able to retire from directly overseeing the country, and I am already seeing the blossoming ingenuity of mortals taking effect in a delightful fashion.”

“I don’t know that I could ever make such a coldly calculated decision about the fates of my own people, when it might end up hurting someone,” she said after a long moment. “Even if it was the best, most logical answer, I think I would have to keep searching for another way.”

“That is simply who you are,” Morax said with an understanding nod. “You have always been that way, believing that the individuals you protect are just as important as the whole. I must admit, we’ve never agreed about that facet of governing, but both our nations still thrive.”

“Am I really so similar to my past self, Morax?” she asked curiously, green eyes flicking to his face to watch his reaction.

“Yes,” he said with a fond smile, his own eyes crinkling at the corners as he returned her gaze. “It is quite reassuring, in fact, that even meeting you anew feels like greeting an old friend. It is a refreshing experience, in fact. A small grace note amidst the present turmoil of our lives.”

“And yet, there is a peacefulness about you that I do not remember,” he said slowly, those gentle eyes closing in thought. “Your shoulders are not weighed down so heavily by the burdens of rule, and your demeanor is bright and ebullient. It is almost contagious.”

“I find myself wondering,” he added after a moment, drawing the words out as though hesitant to say them, “whether your memory loss might have been a good thing for you, in the end.”

“Hm,” she said, thoughtful herself now. “It’s an interesting thing to consider. My sage Kazeharu, he insisted on regaining his memories after he first lost them, stating that people are the sum of their memories and experiences. It has not made him happier, in the end… but it has helped resolve the persistent feeling of incompleteness he spoke of in his past lives, and given him a goal to work towards.”

“As for myself…” she said slowly, trying to think how to safely put it into words. “I don’t feel that same sense of being… incomplete or unfinished.” If her suspicions were correct, it was likely because those memories hadn’t actually belonged to her in the first place. No, she more than suspected. She knew, with a cold certainty, that she was not the archon Morax had known before the cataclysm - that the corrupted branch of Irminsul she had removed had to have been a person.

A god.

The anguish she’d felt then even without remembering what truly happened, and the traveler’s reaction, and the ever-present empty shimmer she saw out of the corner of her eyes in all her dreams told her as much. Kazeharu’s failure to erase himself only confirmed it. The Archon that had created her - her mother, so to speak, as she liked to think her predecessor had been a woman, too - had been corrupted by forbidden knowledge, and had sacrificed her existence and every connection to this world to save it from herself. 

And she had created Nahida to take her place, and to do what had to be done.

Don’t worry, mother, she thought to herself determinedly, I will keep your secret, and carry on your legacy. This god, who speaks of you so fondly, sees the shape you molded me into and finds it familiar, so perhaps even if there are no memories left, there’s still a little bit of you left in this world after all. An echo of your presence.

I’ll do my best to be the person they need me to be. The person you made me to be.

“Even if I don’t personally remember the past,” she said aloud, “the leylines do. Irminsul does. And you, and all the people I knew do as well. The history books speak of the things I have done, and all of it becomes part of the new tapestry of memories I am building for myself now.”

“I may not remember the first time we shared tea together, but I remember the fond smile on your face as you spoke of it to me, and that in turn forms a good memory of its own for our future. I may not remember our last discussion, but we discussed it further today, examining my past self’s wisdom and comparing it with our knowledge and experiences here and now.” She turned towards the older god, summing her feelings up in one simple sentence. “Everything is connected, all of it - roots, and branch, and tree - and the living sap within reaches every limb eventually.”

“You have always had such a unique view of the world,” the other archon - ex-archon, she corrected herself - mused, leaning back against the plush cushions behind him.

“It comes with the territory,” she said, smiling. “What sort of god of wisdom would I be, should I not give my love to even the smallest pieces of knowledge that live in the vast sea of existence? All of them are worth the time to appreciate in detail.”

She added after a moment, wanting to clarify her stance, “As are the minds that gives rise to those unique pieces. All are worth appreciating, in their own way.”

“As evidenced by your peculiar choice of companions,” the other god hummed fondly. “I find myself intrigued by the loyalty displayed towards you by what is obviously Beelzebul’s creation, instead of towards the presumed creator as would generally be expected. There is a fascinating story there that can be guessed even in just the few glimpses of his convictions I have had, a rich, complex history that can be felt in every small interaction between us. Had you not already claimed him as your own, I might have done so myself.”

“I’m afraid the Traveler has a prior claim of his own you’d have to contend with, as well,” she informed Morax in amusement, her own voice carrying similar notes of fondness to his. “They’ve become the  support for each other that they both needed, though neither could have imagined their futures would be so entwined when they first met. It has been my pleasure to watch them grow so close.”

“No doubt with your constant intervention,” he said, clearly amused.

“Encouragement,” she corrected the man with a tiny grin. “It was always a possibility, I just helped things along a little!”

The door swung open as she said it, and Paimon darted in, hands overflowing with blanket and starry night light and pillow. “You! You’re the reason they’ve been so mushy lately??” she complained, voice rising in frustration.

Nahida interrupted the continuing stream of words with a soft, “Shhh,” one finger to her lips and the other pointing to the (fortunately) still sleeping Tonia.

Paimon’s voice dropped abruptly as she ranted, much quieter as she continued in a tone of pure betrayal. “How could you do this to poor Paimon? She had to see them kiss this morning! Do you know just how gross that was?”

The little god couldn’t help the silent laughter that bubbled out of her at the dismayed pout on that scrunched up face, swing swaying with her shaking shoulders. She heard a faint snort from Morax’s chair that told her he was also amused by the situation.

“It’s not funny!” Paimon insisted, flushing as they glanced at each other knowingly.

She turned back to the child’s tense frame, reaching out to tuck back her silver hair behind an ear and reassure her. “Kazeharu won’t take the Traveler away from you, Paimon,” she said softly, addressing the fear that she knew lay at the root of the little sprite’s complaints. “He loves him too, and he knows how happy you are together. He’ll only ever want to add to that happiness, not take away from it, and you’re an irreplaceable part of that.”

Paimon stared at her in shock, dark, starry eyes wide. Perhaps she hadn’t realized herself that that was the source of the dread clouding her mind? “P-paimon wasn’t worried about that!” she stuttered, trying to cover her dismay with a brave front. “As if!” She flitted to the side of the bed, placing her things at the other girl’s side, the mattress dipping under the added weight.

“A-anyway,” she continued, placing her hands on her hips and spinning back to face the two gods. “Paimon is on duty now! She’ll watch Miss Tonia, so you don’t have to stick around anymore.”

When they didn’t react immediately, she waved a stern finger at them “Go on, shoo! Paimon promised, so you can go do your god things or whatever it is you do when you’re not making the Traveler run around and fetch stuff!”

“Well then,” Morax said, his lips curling in a faint smile as he stood, offering a gloved hand to help Nahida down from her manifested swing. “I believe we have been dismissed, Buer. Let us rejoin the others downstairs. I am curious to see what they have uncovered in our absence.”

“Let’s,” she agreed easily, hopping down with the aid of the proffered hand and letting the bench dissipate in a formless swirl of fading energy behind them, while Paimon settled down on the edge of the bed near her things with a subdued, impatient huff.

“You know,” she said, as the older god closed the door, “I wouldn’t mind if you called me Nahida.” Please call me Nahida, actually.

Morax smiled, understanding, his eyes crinkling with fond affection. “Then you may also call me Zhongli.”

When the two gods rejoined them downstairs there was a brief, quiet conference, updating them on the conclusions they’d reached. Zhongli was satisfied that Childe’s sister would be safe, there, and agreed with Kazeharu’s assessment that the elemental traces at the burned ruin were at least worth investigating, despite their age. Xiao, of course, was not interested in “idly standing about” while they chatted, when he could be working on said investigation instead, and nearly dragged the former archon out the door with him.

“Kazeharu,” a familiar voice said, and the puppet looked down to see the little god (his little god now, he supposed, considering his discussion with… well, with his liyuean counterpart) standing by his side, as he watched Aether escort Zhongli and Xiao out the front door, still discussing the adeptus’ return scouting mission.

She smiled up at him, reaching out to clasp his hands in her own with such earnest sentiment that he couldn’t help but feel nervous. What was she up to? 

“Before I leave,” she said, “I wanted to tell you that I’m happy for you.”

He already didn’t like this. “I don’t know what you’re talking about-” he started, but the little god kept going. 

“When our minds touch, Aether’s name, or even his title, is always accompanied by such complex emotions from you. Affection, fondness, hope, annoyance - so many of these and more. But lately, it’s mostly been an overwhelming sense of euphoria and incredulous disbelief, and we both know why. To be honest, I really love feeling these more joyful emotions from you in our interactions, because it’s wonderful to see you blooming, finally, after so long hiding from the sun.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he hissed, already regretting even letting her steer the conversation in this direction. He was perfectly fine without her constant, unfairly unending support and encouragement.

“Then we won’t.”

And she simply stood there, holding his hands and smiling brightly at him, bubbly enthusiasm flooding through her fingers into his. It was clear after a long moment that she was simply going to stand there, and smile at him, until he broke down and let her speak.

The wanderer sighed, reluctantly, and gave in. “Dammit Buer, just spit it out already.”

She giggled. “Lost souls adrift in the sea of life, recognizing fellow survivors, and finding comfort and stability in each other's embrace - is that not a wonderful thing, to be celebrated? I myself can only aspire to finding someone who complements me the same way in the future, once I’ve regrown and recovered my old strength.”

“Buer,” he said, tilting his hat downward to cover his reddening face and fighting through the awkward embarrassment of her talking about things, “The hell do you mean you can only aspire? You’re not only the wisest deity I know, you’ve got the personality of a goddamn rainbow. Anyone stupid enough to not like you or at least admire your strength doesn’t deserve the privilege of even kissing the ground you walk on.”

She giggled at him again, covering her laugh with one tiny hand. “You’re such a sweetie sometimes, Kazeharu, even if you don’t mean to be.” 

“…I hate sweets,” he muttered uncomfortably. “Don’t compare me to them.”

“I wouldn’t do that, sweetpea,” she said, with a small little smile that was almost mischievous.

“Buer.”

“Kazeharu,” she replied immediately, a teasing lilt in her voice. Innocent green eyes twinkled up at him as he scowled back down at her. She was clearly being obtuse on purpose, and enjoying every second of it. 

“I hate you,” he said, and even he could hear how unconvincing he sounded. Did he really have no dignity left, for him to feel anything other than resigned irritation?

“Yes, you’ve made that very clear,” Buer said, the fond tone indicating just the opposite. “I’m glad you let me help, today, sweetpea. You’ve come so far.” She paused, then added, “I’m very, very proud of you, you know.”

“Please don’t say things like that out loud,” he muttered, feeling his face start to heat again, and tugging at his hat again so he could at least block out the sight of the embarrassingly loving smile being directed his way.

She simply repeated into his mind, the echo of that loving smile still very much present in his senses despite the barrier of the hat, I’m very, very proud of you, Kazeharu, before disappearing herself, leaving behind only the faint pressure from the gentle squeeze she’d given his hands as she’d gone, and the embarrassment written across his face.

The click of the door was a welcome distraction from all of that, and he seized on it gratefully, whirling around, reaching. Aether had barely opened it enough to fit through when the puppet wound his hand into that ever-present scarf and pulled him to his side, pressing himself up against that lean body and raising his other hand to hold his lover’s face steady for him to kiss, as he kicked the door shut unceremoniously. The traveler, startled, but not surprised, kissed him back with enthusiasm, hands stroking his back, lingering on his hips before sliding further to cup the curve of his ass.

“Welcome back,” Kazeharu said, lips a scant breath away from the other’s, sliding his hand back to tangle in that so-tempting golden hair. “A shame I had to wait so long to say it.”

An amused huff answered him, and an abbreviated phrase in the singsong liquid sunshine of Aether’s native language, as he pressed another kiss to the corner of the puppet’s mouth.

“Shall we retire to your room, then?” the other man asked in common, pulling back with a wicked glint in those honeyed eyes.

“After all the effort I put in to get Paimon out of your room?” the wanderer said, almost offended. “Absolutely not.” Then he smirked as the flicker of sudden realization crossed the traveler’s face.

“You didn’t,” the blonde said, with a hint of horror. “You- you conniving opportunist, did you really-?”

“Absolutely,” he admitted, as the smirk widened into a mischievous grin.

“Terrible,” was the exasperated reply. “Completely. Terrible.”

Chapter Text

Somewhere in Kazeharu’s desk:

Klee sends her regards, the letter begins. With no respect towards our previous topic of conversation, she has insisted that her greetings for Mister Wanderer are of the utmost importance and should be placed first. As such, included are her latest drawing for you and a poem. She would be very pleased to hear that you received them undamaged when you reply.

As for the topic of the Shouki no Kami, Dorian and I are continuing to look into the particulars of the system. Despite having determined the likely purpose and the mechanisms employed in its construction, we believe that it would behoove us to have a more thorough understanding of its less obvious weaknesses, should they attempt to build another and correct for the ones that brought this version down.

“Tsk,” said the other man, examining the vial of disturbingly congealing fluid he’d just extracted from his victim. “If you can’t maintain this form even when I artificially induce it, how am I supposed to study it properly?”

Tartaglia - no, simply Ajax, now, the Tsaritsa herself had decreed those names were no longer his own as she’d relieved him of his delusion - panted heavily, slumped in his restraints, the unstable transformation only enveloping his top half. Lifting his head he could see the two small red-headed children in their little cage across the room, shell-shocked faces blank with the utter horror of their situation. The screaming and crying had stopped eventually, that first day, when Dottore had demonstrated just what he was capable of doing to their older brother if they didn’t remain silent. His own hands were tied quite conspicuously by the electro infused collars around his younger brother’s necks. That day, and the days that followed after had been a nightmare he had never wished for his precious younger siblings to experience. He had done everything to keep this world’s pain from them, but after all that effort, here he was, hands tied and body drained, reluctant to even offer them the comfort of his voice for fear the Doctor would choose to retaliate.

And yet, he couldn’t keep his mouth shut, now that he was half-conscious enough to think again. It was one of his many failings. “I thought you were supposed to be a genius, Doc. You can’t even work things out when you’ve got the opportunity to keep me transformed permanently?”

“Hold your tongue, idiot,” the scientist said without even glancing away from his sample, “or I’ll relieve you of it. An experimental subject has no need of a voice.”

“Can’t take the heat, Doc?” he said, knowing that riling the man up would do him no favors in the long run. At the very least, he could keep the harbinger’s attention on him, instead of the children. “Little too spicy for ya? You sure you don’t want to just let me out of here and fight me properly instead?”

“What did I just say, Eleven,” the other harbinger said, one red eye glinting from beneath the mask as his head turned to face him fully. “I assure you, that was not an idle threat.”

“Come on, Doc, you gotta know how bored I am just sitting here all day! At least give me something to do, won’t you? Lemme help you with your notes or something, I promise I won’t drown them in water.” Not that he could right now - his vision glinted at him from the ley cage positioned in the furthest spot from him in the room, too far to connect, but not so far he’d lost his wits.

Dottore’s head tilted back to eye him haughtily, as calm as ever, and then he was offered a predatory smile. “Your provocation has been more irritating than usual, Eleven. You say you want to help with my notes? Perhaps I’ll remove something else instead, so you can still describe exactly how it feels to lose the item in question for them.”

The sudden blur of motion was followed by an abrupt tug against his shoulder, and he inexplicably felt oddly unbalanced. His left side was heavier than his right, now, and he turned his head in what felt like the longest moment of his life to see that his entire arm was simply missing from its usual spot at his side. A single clean cut, it seemed, and when the pain signals finally reached the part of his brain that was still capable of shrilling an alarm, he choked back a scream as the shock hit him. He was the vanguard - of what, now, he didn’t know, but that was a title she hadn’t taken from him - he wouldn’t let such trivial things as losing a limb break his composure. Especially not in front of the coldly calculating man in front of him. Such things would be immediately factored into his calculations and his little tests.

“How interesting,” Dottore said, lifting the severed arm - his arm! - curiously. “The transformation has not faded even though it is no longer connected to you, and the flesh still pulses with activity. This warrants further study,” he said, as he rotated the limb, the clawed hand flopping uselessly at the end as it was turned. He could almost feel the motion of the separated arm himself, in a rather sickening fashion, and the gloved hands on his skin. “Absolutely fascinating. Perhaps if I provide it life support it can grow a second body for itself?” That predatory smile was back, and the Doctor added cruelly, “That would certainly make it easier to do away with such an uncooperative subject, if I can simply grow a newer, more obedient one.”

Chuckling to himself, the scientist swept the tools off a nearby tray and placed the arm on it to carry it out, paying no mind to the one-armed man bleeding out in his chains, or the children across the room with their saucer-wide blue eyes staring in horror. The former harbinger was only just able to focus enough to feel the flesh of his shoulder knitting together, as what was left of his transformation took action to stop the blood loss. And then he felt something else, through the haze of pain. His vision. He could reach it again.

It hadn’t moved from where it was placed, but Dottore, carrying the severed arm - the arm that he could still, inexplicably, somehow feel, though the odd sensation was diminishing by the second - was passing by it without a second thought.

He didn’t question it. That was all he needed. He yanked at the vision as though he was where his arm was, harnessing the water in the air to send it flying towards his actual body.

Time slowed, as the glittering trinket flipped edge over edge in its graceful arc through the air. Dottore wasn’t stupid, of course - the moment something happened outside his carefully calculated plans, he reacted, snapping his fingers even as the vision soared to it’s destination. The unpleasant noise was familiar; the man had tested his latest toy on him almost immediately to see if it would work on his transformed anatomy. He hadn’t resisted, then, knowing he could use that to his advantage, later - and now? He pushed through the disorientation even as his brothers collapsed in their cage, reaching out with his remaining hand at the very limit of his chains to snag his vision out of the air.

He’d been planning for this moment - for even a chance at this moment - since they’d brought in his siblings to join him. He’d thought his simple surrender and acquiescence to the experiments would be enough to keep them safe, those first days, only to see them paraded in like trophies when he’d been nothing but cooperative. Those blasted dog collars would activate at the press of a single button from Dottore, or any other guard, and so they had to go before anything else could happen.

That was why he summoned blades of water to their sides first, leaving him open to further retaliation from the Doctor as he spent those first precious seconds of power to complete the delicate operation of slicing the damnable collars from Anthon and Teucer’s necks without harming them and form a barrier around them. His job was made easier with their sleeping forms so still, and he was proud of himself for planning ahead for this inevitable move from his former colleague.

His reward, unfortunately, was the full attention of the second harbinger, with the hostages no longer as easily threatened. The doctor took advantage of the restraints he was still bound by, attacking with a needle and vial of some suspicious liquid from the vulnerable point where his injury lay, and instinctively, he reached, blocking the attack with an arm that was no longer there.

Hydro answered his desperation instead, his vision drawing on the slowing trickle of blood and the moisture in the air to form a new limb in its place, and the sheer unhinged delight that flashed through him at the utter shock on the second’s face as the watery forearm intercepted the attack and in one smooth motion continued straight for the other man’s throat was almost worth all the pain it had taken to get to that point.

Almost.

Dottore was far too fast for such a simple attack to hit him - he wasn’t ranked second of the harbingers for nothing, after all - and in the blink of an eye there was a respectable distance between them again, the vial discarded for an intimidating scoped instrument of dubious scientific use. He took advantage of the tiny breather as the doctor fiddled with the new device to free himself of his chains, before anything else could happen. A small part of his mind - the one that reveled in the chaos - watched everything in cold detachment, admiring the bright spatter of red against the doctor’s white lab coat, matching the swirling smear of his own still flowing blood spiraling lazily through his new arm, bending and flexing just like his real one had, casually ripping the restraints from his other arm and crushing the fastenings on the walls and floor.

With some effort, he pushed the legacy transformation back out to the rest of his body, causing the doctor to snarl angrily, “I knew you were holding back.”

“It’s not my fault you were so boring and unmotivational I kept wanting to fall asleep, Doc,” Ch- no, Ajax said, amused. It was true, really. There was nothing like the desperation and thrill of a good old fight to the death to spur on your second wind and bring out your true strengths.

Speaking of.

He lunged for the other harbinger, and was rewarded with a string of curses as whatever diabolical creation the man was holding was just a little too slow to hit him on the way there. The scientist himself was faster, though, and easily avoided the attack, one hand reaching out and behind to slap an otherwise ordinary panel on the wall (Ajax’s sight flooded with elemental power, briefly, to check, and he could see that it was some kind of trigger for - Ah. And there it was, an audible alarm.)

No point in hiding or staying out of sight, then, with the whole base on alert - it was true that he could probably wipe out most of the grunts in their ranks with only one arm, but while also protecting his brothers? That wasn’t something he’d ever really trained for, as the vanguard, the man in the thick of the action at the front, not defending civilians at the back. Better to switch gears and get them out safely, now, before the base could be fully mobilized in response to the alarm. The faster they left, the less people would have the opportunity to try to attack them.

He feinted a few times at Dottore, until the other man was convinced he was going to go for his throat again, and then he took off in the opposite direction as the harbinger dodged an attack that never came, scooping up the delicate forms of his sleeping brothers in his remaining arm and using his watery replacement as a battering ram, bursting straight through the thick, soundproof walls of the special lab into the corridor in a shower of dust and plaster, nearly crushing the unlucky agents on the other side.  He could hear them scrambling to respond behind him as he burst through another wall rather than bother to go around, angling the bulk of his body to keep Teucer and Anthon protected from the majority of the debris he was creating with each new wall he destroyed.

Perhaps he could have tried to navigate the turns and hallways of a lab he’d never been to, but it was just so much easier to listen to the instincts of his abyssal form telling him to go, crush, break, to follow the cold sharp scent of outside without pausing for anything in his way. (It also didn’t hurt that the catastrophic amount of property damage he was causing the doctor was sure to cause an aneurysm, later.)

He followed the scent out, then up, leaving a trail of devastated walls and floors and equipment in his wake, mowing down any agents unlucky enough to get in his way, or deluded enough to think they actually had a chance of stopping him.

The frigid air of a Snezhnayan night hit him as he burst through one last wall, and he pinpointed the nearest landmarks immediately. A recognizable mountain, a familiar watchtower. Whatever else it had become, this place had been his home, first, and he knew it well enough to get his bearings immediately. He hadn’t known Dottore had a lab here; it was entirely possible it had been deliberately hidden from him for just this reason. But they were near enough to the coast for him to know there was a covert Fatui port that he could reach in minutes - and from there, he could commandeer a boat, by force if he had to. Course set, he took off through the thickly piled drifts of snow between the trees, weaving past and through them towards the road he knew was somewhere nearby.

It was as they were pounding down that same frozen road to the icy coastline that he felt his brothers begin to stir again, and he did his best to reassure them without stopping, hoping that the abyssal distortion in his voice wasn’t so strong as to render it completely unrecognizable. He couldn’t be sure it had worked - the smaller boy had gone completely stiff in his grasp, and the older one was crying silently, the tears hot against his skin.

He repeated the same words over and over, a litany against the casual cruelty of the world that he’d tried so hard to shield them from. “It’s okay.” It wasn’t. “I’ve got you.” Him, the abyssal monster under the bed. “They can’t hurt you anymore.” Because he’d be dead before he let anyone break his trust like that again. “We’re gonna get out of here.” One way or another.

He didn’t say that he could hear the intensifying pursuit behind them with his enhanced abyssal hearing, that the alarm would have been transmitted across the entire system by now, that they would be expected at the harbor and that he knew of at least one other Dottore who’d been in the lab recently who could work together with the one they’d just escaped. (Why was it that every single one of the man’s segments felt the need to be unique? It would be so much easier to fight the man if you could know what to expect from him, whether it was poisons or lasers. But no, it was never that simple with any version of him.)

Sure enough, the man in question was waiting for them at the end of the road with an amused smile, having commandeered the frostthrower of the cryo gunner standing to attention behind him in the rows of Fatui agents.

As if Ajax would be that easy to beat, hydro vision or no. 

They could underestimate him all they wanted; they were going to be in for a rude surprise when he destroyed them in return.

If there was one thing they should never.

Ever.

Have done.

It was touch his family. Because he was going to make very, very sure that they could never do it again, self-preservation be damned. (He’d make as many new limbs out of water as necessary, so long as his treasures were safe at the end of it all.)

The Fatui had seen him fight, before. Had trained to fight with him, and around him, when he was in this form, decimating their enemies. But they had never seen him fight when something was at stake other than his pride and his enjoyment of the skirmish, and that made all the difference. 

He was not here for the fight.

He was here to escape with his brothers.

Ajax bowled them all down like pins in an alley, not bothering to stay for a kill or to slash and maim more than necessary. Not even the Doctor, with his superior elemental match-up, was able to do more than delay him. He was more aware than ever of the two tiny, fragile bodies he clutched to him, gently moving them as necessary with his good arm to protect them more thoroughly from elemental backlash and gunspray and anything else that might possibly harm them. His hydro arm was as easy to fight with as his own had been - easier, in fact. It molded to his will and distorted into suitable blocking shapes that sharpened into cutting edges with hardly a thought, flexibility that not even his legacy form was capable of. If part of it froze, he simply let that part peel away and shatter against the ground as he circulated new water in to replace it. The calm, detached part of his brain analyzed the mayhem he was causing, noting again that even now there was no sign of the first Dottore he’d escaped from. He hadn’t been injured; what was he doing that he considered more important than securing his escaped test subject? Ajax fought off the sense of foreboding he felt at the thought, knowing he couldn’t afford to be distracted by what ifs, and let himself be purposely distracted by the bright ribbon of his own blood still trailing within his makeshift arm, refreshed by his constant movements breaking the wound open again and again and again.

Blood on the snow, blood in the water… both beautiful. Both in plentiful supply, here. He was an artist, spraying calculated droplets of crimson across the landscape with every graceful movement, the warmth of fresh lifeblood spilling out into the icy air lasting only long enough to melt the snow where it hit, before freezing over to a darker, colder red, only to be layered over by another splash of brighter, fresher color before it too went on to freeze. Absentmindedly, the part of his brain that was simply observing noted that he was growing eloquently illucid, to be musing about such things. Perhaps he was losing more blood from his injury than he’d thought.

That would be a problem for future Ajax, though. Current Ajax had finally barreled through the remaining agents standing between them and the ships, and he immediately launched himself towards the nearest. A small thing, a covert scouting ship of Snezhnayan make and design - sure to be full of the latest Fatui stealth modes and stolen waverider technologies.

The boat dipped sharply in the water as his weight hit it, and he slammed the cabin door open without hesitation and skipped the stairs entirely in his mad rush down to the control deck. The controls didn’t answer him, and he set his brothers down with urgency so he could use both his hands.

“Go, hide somewhere below,” he told them in his quietest abyss monster hiss, “I’m getting us out.”

With him between the only passage to the bottom deck and anyone that might attack them, he felt himself relax just the tiniest bit. They weren’t safe, no, but they were removed from the immediate danger.

The boat rocked again as someone else landed on it, and he cursed under his breath, pulling open the panel below the controls and hoping frantically that it was simply a loose wire. He wasn’t good at this engineering stuff, but he could recognize the basic components inside the base and although none of it was hooked up to the top, as far as he could tell it still should be functional. He reached in and flipped the engine toggle, only for his heart to sink as it sputtered and failed to start.

Calm, even footsteps from above him moved down the stairs, unhurried movements betraying a lack of fear that could only belong to another harbinger.

Dottore.

“You realize, Eleven,” he heard the man say, as he frantically investigated the remaining switchboards, looking for anything that he might be able to use to get this ship out of here. “This little tantrum isn’t going to get us anywhere.”

The engine wasn’t working; the switchboard for the waverider summons mechanism was broken, and he realized too late that he’d picked a ship that needed maintenance. No wonder it had been so close to the shore, instead of moored with the rest. No wonder they hadn’t bothered to prevent him from boarding it.

The amusement in Dottore’s voice only grew clearer as the footsteps got closer. “In fact, I’ve just been assured that with your kind donation to my counterpart earlier, we don’t even need your cooperation anymore.”

The footsteps stopped in the same unhurried manner as they’d started, and he turned to see Dottore standing at the bottom of the stairs, smiling that awful smile and hands clasped casually behind his back.

“As such,” the harbinger said, still smiling, “You may fire.”

And he heard the immediate telltale launch of a Fatui missile strike in response. The doctor would survive that - even if he didn’t, it was only one segment and ultimately replaceable. Ajax could probably survive it easily, if he weren’t injured.

His brothers wouldn’t.

With the engine dead and a targeted rocket strike heading straight for them, he did the only thing he could think of in those few precious seconds: stuck his hand into the broken switchboard, and manually triggered the summon response system, hoping beyond hope that even without summoning coordinates it would still take them somewhere that wasn’t in the path of destruction. If it didn’t, they were all dead, anyway.

The sudden, sickening lurch knocked him off balance, throwing him against the suddenly horizontal wall, then up to what had been the ceiling as gravity took hold and they began to fall, the room lazily spinning as the uneven weight of the boat caused the hull to reorient itself towards the surface below. He heard the screams of his two treasures, nearby; they were at least alive, for now. His attention was caught by a more immediate problem, though, and he could only gape in shock at the scene in front of him now.

There was a reason waveriders could normally only be summoned, not teleported in. Even the teleport nodes scattered across Teyvat only moved single individuals and their attached belongings (studies had shown that no matter how many people were in a group when a vision holder initiated a group transfer, each person was processed and calculated individually, resulting sometimes in delays between arrivals). The crude imitations within the transports, unfortunately, were much less capable, only reliable for inanimate, nonliving objects. There were horror stories, whispered in hushed, fearful tones in the general Fatui barracks after lights out, about the results of the testing done to try to fix that problem. Their resident mad scientist was of course one of the researchers still continuing that line of investigation even to this day, and no one wanted to be on the list of prospective test subjects for any of those experiments. (Not that anyone wanted to be on the test subject list at all, but that was beside the point.)

People, as it turned out, were not inanimate objects.

And despite Dottore’s bizarre multi-body existence, he still fell into that somewhat questionable category.

This particular body, at least, would cause no more trouble. The desperate makeshift teleportation had not only upended the boat and dropped them midair, but also randomly displaced the occupants within it, to no apparent purpose. Ajax had been lucky; only his hydro arm had been sliced through where it’d been cut off by a wall, but Dottore’d been shifted directly into one of the room’s support pillars, which now sank directly through this segment’s midsection.

He spent a brief moment wondering whether the pillar had replaced Dottore, or Dottore the pillar - or whether there was perhaps some strange mixture of the two in that now intersecting space. The gore beginning to ooze from the lifeless corpse didn’t seem particularly indicative of any of those scenarios.

He spent a further moment wondering if this particular Dottore segment had ever participated in those infamous experiments personally (if so, what a strangely fitting twist of karma that would be).

Another terrified scream and the sound and shuddering jolt of the boat crashing back into water snapped his attention back to the crisis at hand. He could indulge his morbid curiosity later - his brothers needed him. Reforming his arm barely took a thought, and turning his body so he hit the incoming deck and rolled was instinct by now, after so many years of battle. He dashed for the exit as fast as he could, desperately praying (though not to the Tsaritsa, curse Her name) that his treasures weren’t hurt. Their screams had come from above him; they must have been teleported above the boat when it shifted.

“Teucer! Anthon!” he called, racing up the oddly slanted staircase two steps at a time, deftly maintaining his balance through the wild lurching beneath his feet.

He heard a faint “Big brother!” from the deck and redoubled his pace. The call was repeated, then followed by “Teuce’s in the water, Jaxie!"

That was something he could fix, and he nearly flew up to the top deck, bursting out onto the battered steel plates and taking in the situation at a glance. Anthon, a little bruised, but otherwise fine, was leaning over the rail to try and catch a spluttering and flailing Teucer’s hand. It took less than a thought for him to command the ocean to rise up and release his littlest brother onto the relative safety of the deck, and he wasn’t even consciously aware of stripping the hydro from their sopping clothes and tossing it back where it belonged, focusing instead on the fact that they were safe, everything was going to be okay because he’d done it and they were finally safe.

It didn’t matter that Tuecer was hiding behind Anthon, nervous fear in those familiar blue eyes even after he dropped his transformation finally. It didn’t matter that Anthon’s loud sobbing only grew louder as he pulled him close to hug him, that the smaller boy flinched at his touch when he gathered him in too, whispering reassurances and apologies for failing in the one duty that he actually cared about over both their unruly heads of hair. It didn’t matter what happened to him, or what they thought of him, so long as they were safe.

Clutching his little brothers close, Ajax finally managed to take a good look at their new surroundings. Blue skies and calm waters stretched out to the horizon in every direction, their battered boat and the remnants of surrounding waves the sole disturbance in the vast, open expanse. The difference from the clouded, snowy skies they had started in was striking - clearly they were nowhere near Snezhnaya anymore. The color of the water told him they were somewhere in the western sea, but without any other distinguishing features he couldn't be sure of anything else.

Where were they?

Chapter Text

The most obvious weakness is, of course, the electro vulnerability, and while that cannot be eliminated with current technology, it can certainly be mitigated and dampened with the inclusion of various rare ores and conduction-impairing materials. It is entirely possible that they simply didn’t bother to use such methods in the prototype to cut costs and save resources as they tested the feasibility of the project as a whole, but having more than established that, a newer version is almost certain to be resistant to the element. I would submit that preparing a strategy around such a weakness would be foolhardy at best.

Instead, we have prepared here a list of notable structural design flaws and possible ways to create feedback loops or elemental reactions within the circuitry.

“You know,” Haru said, staring up at the stone visage of an unfamiliar archon with his arms folded, “I wasn’t serious when I told you you could bring me along for moral support.”

“And yet, here you are,” Aether replied, which earned him a vicious scowl. The pale pre-dawn glow limning the edges of the arid mountains and canyons of the Natlani region was only bright enough to gently emphasize the flowing folds and curves of the wanderer’s robe and mantle, leaving his own elemental markings to shine freely against the remaining darkness, his toes hovering a mere hairsbreadth from the dusty sandstone beneath their feet. The statue of the seven, too, glowed visibly in the dark, cool air, as did his own ornaments, the blue bleeding softly to an unsettling red as he rested his palm on the base of the statue and it flared in response.

“Well?” the puppet said impatiently, pressing his own palm to the traveler’s forehead. “Any fever? Sudden surrounding temperature change? Weird feelings like you might explode?”

He had to shake his head after a long moment of hesitation, none of that being in evidence at all.

“Good,” Haru said with a satisfied huff, pulling his hand back to fold his arms again. “I pronounce you very definitely okay with the element of pyro.” The wanderer immediately added, without even a pause, “Now get back to work, idiot.” The fond tone belied the apparent disdain implied by the words, and Aether felt his own face soften in a gentle smile at the other man’s ever-contradictory behavior. 

“You sure you don’t want to join me?” he said, reaching out to cup the puppet’s delicately carved cheek one last time before they parted ways. “I could always use another strong blade at my side, with all that’s happening.”

“You and I both know that I’m too abrasive for your usual strategy of befriending the locals and leveraging their resources.”

“Still,” Aether said, stepping closer, “Acquired taste or not, I would appreciate your company.”

“My company, huh?” the puppet said, turning his head slightly to press a knowing smirk against his hand. “Too bad. Some of us are busy. You know damn well I’ll be right there in your little domain the whole time, too. Admit it, you just want more opportunities to ogle my-”

He closed the distance between their faces before Haru could finish, pulling him into a deep kiss that the man didn’t resist in the slightest, a tuneless hum of happiness buzzing against his lips. The wanderer’s own hands reached up to clasp Aether’s face in return, tilting his head back to take control of the kiss as he rose slightly in the air to lean over the traveler. 

The puppet’s voice was rougher, deeper, when he broke the kiss, indigo eyes opening dreamily to gaze down into Aether’s golden ones. “You should go before someone sees you,” he said in a quiet murmur. “The further you get before the inevitable Fatui bastards notice you, the easier it will be to find out what’s happening. Let me pull the strings and handle the information gathering behind the scenes, while you do what you do best and raise hell.”

The hand still on the former harbinger’s cheek paused at the unexpectedly harsh words.

“Does it really not bother you?” the traveler asked, quietly, searching his lover’s face with unspoken empathy. “That you’ve not just left their organization, but are now actively opposing it? Surely not all of them would have wronged you in the same fashion as the original instigators.”

There was a small huff, dark eyes flicking up to the shadowed horizon, then dropping back to meet Aether’s gaze with an inhuman intensity as if to make sure he understood the man was being honest when he spoke. “I’m not so weak as to let misplaced sentiment muddy the truths I’ve learned. Fatui are trained to take advantage of such hesitations - I’d know better than most.”

“Besides,” the wanderer continued, “I was never really one of them, not the way Tartaglia was, and you can see how much difference that made in the end. Her goals were never mine, not even when I believed us allies. I was too uncanny for my subordinates to linger in my presence, and not devout enough for my colleagues to trust with secrets, let alone comradery.”

The underlying pain in those words was clear, even as the tone implied unconcerned dismissal. “Don’t give me that look, dumbass,” the other man added, before he could say anything comforting. “We’ve already established that the past is done and over with. I can’t change it, you can’t change it, and there’s no point in trying. Focus on the shit you can fix instead.”

The traveler nodded, reluctantly, giving the puppet’s hand a gentle squeeze instead of speaking. “Remember to tell Paimon where I’ve gone,” he said instead. “She can join me whenever she tires of watching Tonia.”

“And leave me to watch her instead? As if,” Haru grinned saucily, before vanishing into their domain with a wink and a casual spin in the air, leaving Aether alone in the chill and the brightening morning light.

He raised a hand to take a closer look at the newly red ornaments, wondering why they made him so uneasy, despite being the same vibrant color as the visions of his many pyro-aligned companions.

His hand opened, fingers blossoming into a cradle for the power he summoned in that instant.

The fire answered his call easily, as pliant and malleable as the water he had only recently mastered. But there was an eagerness to it that contrasted with the water’s calm certainty, a flickering desire to grow and consume and burn. And yet, it was also the soothing warmth of a flickering hearthfire on a cold night, the gentle glow of candles on a solemn altar, the powerful, targeted heat that his lover shaped and molded steel with. Two sides to every coin, he thought to himself, and the unease he’d felt since leaving their house this morning finally began to dissipate, as he felt the unlocked power settle back in to his soul as naturally as any of the other elements had.

Haru had been right. His own power, even locked then unlocked and reborn in this new form, was too familiar a thing to lose control of.  And it hit him just how much he’d been dreading it, finding out he’d lost touch with such an integral part of himself, after first losing his sister and his wings and his very freedom.

He could feel the tension draining from his shoulders, as he gazed out towards the sunrise, and marveled at how much lighter his limbs felt, suddenly. The overwhelming sense of relief was just that strong, and the painted streaks of color unfurling in the brightening sky were the perfect complement to his lifting mood.

Right then, not even the Fatui’s plotting could dampen his spirits.

The first thing Kazeharu did upon reappearing in front of the mansion was to quietly open the door and climb up the stairs to the second floor, soft footsteps carrying him down the side balcony to the small spare room. The two children were still sleeping when he checked, a splayed out Paimon by the edge of the bed with her little head shoved directly into Tonia’s side, who was curled around it in an unconscious adjustment to the invasion of her space. She must be used to sleeping next to her brothers, he surmised, from her easy posture and breathing. As he watched, Paimon stirred, one tiny fist half-clenching to grasp whatever doomed snack she was dreaming about, then settled again with a satisfied sigh. He felt… odd, seeing them. Gentle, in a way he hadn’t felt since he had lost his son.

It hurt, to remember the boy, as it always did. 

He shut the door quietly. Things would be different this time. Not just because he swore it would be so, but because he was no longer alone in his determination. Aether, and Buer, and even little Paimon were there too. At the very, very least, he could promise that this child would not have to die alone. (It was one of his few real regrets, even now. That he hadn’t been there for him, in his last moments. That there had been no one there to hear any last words the boy might have spoken. An uncarved, unwritten epitaph of silence was all that remained.)

But wait. He stilled abruptly, one foot suspended over the next stair as he descended to the kitchen. If the boy had said anything, a cry for help or a condemnation of his absent parent, Irminsul would know. Buer would know, if she looked. 

He could know.

His empty chest ached at the thought, an uncomfortable squeeze behind his artificial ribs. That missed moment had haunted him for so long, and yet… he was far more stable than he had ever been in his life, now. Did he really want to stir the simmering pot of his tempestuous past again, and risk the potential explosion? 

Would it even count, if he were to finally be present for his son in such a belated, second-hand fashion?

Or would it-

Wait.

He had seen the truth of his father’s death before he had erased himself from Irminsul. 

His son’s death would have already been lost to the sweeping alterations in the records that had removed all traces of Kabukimono from history. Whatever it would show him now, it was not the true fate of his little fledgeling - merely what would have happened had the puppet never existed at all. Knowing how things had been rewritten elsewhere, it was likely that very little would have changed, if anything at all. His son would still have died, as mortals did, and after a brief hesitation Kazeharu carefully, deliberately crushed the faint glimmer of hope that it might have been better for the boy that they never met. 

No, he decided after a long moment, that was not something he was going to think about right now.

Right now, he was going to ignore the tiny voice whispering in the back of his head that he should go ahead and drop everything to investigate, and finally take the half-completed step he’d paused on. He wasn’t going to make the same mistake again, not when it would leave the girls upstairs in the same position. They deserved that much, at least. 

And he’d promised Aether. There were breakfasts to cook, reports to read, and blades to forge - and none of that was getting done while he stood there blankly like the soulless doll he had been created to be. 

Kazeharu started down the stairs again with renewed determination, sending a rude gesture in the direction of Inazuma for good measure while he was at it (or at least, the direction it would be if he weren’t inside a domain) just to prove that he was anything but soulless. 

The little band of escapees had waited until nightfall to determine their course, knowing the stars could tell them something about where they were, though his brothers had fallen asleep before the sun even began to set, exhausted by the day. He’d tucked them in together in the captain’s bunk, knowing he’d sleep just fine in a hammock when it came down to it. His precious boys, though, deserved better. Better than they’d gotten, better than a simple narrow bed with a thin mattress and woolen blankets too thick for the mild cool of the night air wherever they were now.

They were sailors, the sons of sailors and fishermen used to navigating in harsh, frozen waters without the light of the sun. But as the sky darkened, and the first faint glimmers appeared in the purpling horizon, the former fatuus seated on the deck was forced to admit something to himself: the strange, unsettling fact that these constellations were completely unfamiliar to him.

There was no pole star, no monocerous caeli, no victor mare or lapis dei to set his sights by. He knew nothing more about their position than he had when they arrived.

Well, if they were in some part of the western ocean, then sailing east should see them hit land eventually… right? 

He supposed that meant he would just have to wait until the sun came back up again, if it was truly their only indicator of direction out here. Something didn’t quite feel right about that thought, though, and he mulled it over for a bit, let that little niggling worry bounce against the limits of his thick head in the hopes of shaking something useful out of it. (Better than thinking about how unbalanced he felt, still, when he moved.)

For some reason, the sound of Zhongli’s voice as he gave one of his impromptu historical lectures was what came to mind, rather than anything helpful. Perhaps the man had discussed star navigation techniques with him, once - it wouldn’t surprise him, since the man knew almost everything. Unless it was rocks, and then he did know everything.

Actually. The idea of a rock was ringing a bell, now, and he thought hard about it, tried to remember if the god had ever mentioned sailing and rocks in the same sentence…

“I am reminded of a stone that even you may have heard of, Childe. Before Snezhnaya had access to radar and sonar and all the other modern techniques your nation uses now, one of the most reliable forms of navigation involved the use of an item called a sunstone. It’s common name now is Snezhnayan spar, a type of clear calcite known for the peculiar property of doubling what the holder views through it. Its lesser known properties include allowing those with the knowledge and expertise to pinpoint the location of the sun, even in clouded, rainy, or twilight conditions. It was an invaluable navigational tool for sailing, especially useful in your longer summer months where the sun only flirts with the edge of the horizon in the evening.”

And then the god had gone and produced an impossibly perfect piece of it from his coat, showing a fascinated harbinger how the dot he placed on the surface became two when viewed through the crystal - and how to line the dots up so that they merged again, leaving the crystal’s surface angled directly towards the sun, each and every time he tried it. The man had to have created the piece specifically for him, as unnaturally perfect and timely as it had been - he’d laughed when the other man gave it to him, to add to all the other rocks he’d been given and… put it where?

An invaluable navigational tool, he heard the familiar calm voice say again, and he knew he wouldn’t have passed up the opportunity to add something new and different to his arsenal, as unlikely as it was that he’d find a use for the thing. Hydro was all about adapting to change, flowing with the circumstances and utilizing the resources you had available to you; he’d always been very good at that part.

He had to have squirreled it away somewhere in one one of his uniform’s many hidden pockets, and he thanked the archons - on second thought, just Morax - under his breath that the Tsaritsa had not bothered to strip that from him too, when he was being so cooperative. It was just unfortunate that there were so many of those blasted little pockets, deliberately concealed under apparent gaudy ornamentation and ostentatious design that both hid them and obscured their contents.

Useful during an attempted pat-down, not so much when the actual owner was looking for something.

Turning out all the hidden pockets of his coat produced nothing; it occurred to him belatedly that there were, in fact, pockets that he’d lost when his arm had been severed. Normally he reserved those easy-access spots for things he used consistently, so the crystal probably wasn’t in there… still, with the way his luck was going lately he wasn’t going to rule it out.

One thorough search later, he emerged from the depths of his uniform with his prize. The rock had been in one of his battered boots when he finally found it, snugly slotted in next to a hidden knife that no one had bothered to take from him and a coil of spare fishing line that could also serve as a garrote in a pinch. It seemed no worse the wear for its trip, and he held it up, hoping that it was still early enough to catch the faint light of the hidden sun spilling over the horizon in what was now definitely past dusk. At least the moon wasn’t up yet to overwhelm the missing sun with its own glow.

Fumbling experiments with replicating the techniques he’d been shown were partially successful, the lined up crystal pointing to the side of the boat where the sun had set (it made sense, really, if they hadn’t moved since then). The direction was vague, repeated attempts resulting in only a general indication rather than a precise heading to follow, but it was enough for him to select one of those unfamiliar constellations to use as a marker in the depths of that vast, unknown sky, at least for the moment. 

The adrenaline of his escape was still coursing through his veins and he wouldn’t be capable of sleeping for a while yet. Might as well make use of that time as best he could, especially since Ajax was the furthest thing from an engineer - whatever was wrong with the little ship wasn’t worth trying to fix, not when he could (and probably would) break things further with his inexpert meddling. The boat’s mechanisms might be broken, but most importantly, it was still seaworthy right now. He could still steer with the rudder, and shooting a jet of water from the stern was enough to begin propelling them across the ocean surface. That was all they really needed - and when he tired, he was certain he could rig up a makeshift sail to catch the wind that would serve nearly as well. Even the youngest children knew how to manage a sail, growing up in such a small coastal village, and he knew his little brothers were no exception. They’d manage.

It would be hard, but they would make it. There were fish in the ocean to eat and he could make clean water to drink with his vision, and there was shelter should it storm. 

They’d live.

And his former queen would come to regret her actions, no matter how long it took to return.

He swore that to himself with all the seriousness of his now broken vow to serve her. The small part in the back of his head that watched things with emotionless clarity suggested that he should also share that new vow with his brothers - tell them he wouldn’t let their pain go unanswered. Even in these circumstances, the solidity of a traditional Snezhnayan pinkie promise would likely be very comforting to them. A promise to bring them back - not home, never home again - but to safety. Back to somewhere they could be normal children again, wherever that ended up being. (Liyue, he hoped. It was a dream he hadn’t quite allowed himself to acknowledge before, when he had been sworn to another god and another nation, but now there was no reason to pretend anymore.)

First, though. First they needed to chart a course to safe harbour.

Chapter Text

Regarding your inquiry as to Captain Kaeya's recent delegation of his network communications to his subordinate, I cannot state for certain his reasoning or whereabouts, nor would I disclose such information in writing, as you well know. However, I do know that he has been investigating a resurgent abyssal presence in Mondstadt proper, lately. It is entirely probable that he deemed some avenue of investigation too important to leave untouched which also required the skills of an experienced vision-holder and saboteur. Such excursions usually last no more than a week or two, so if his lieutenant was unable to answer your particular query, you will regrettably need to wait to receive a reply until he does return.

If Kazeharu had realized that he would by default be the primary caretaker for Tartaglia’s sister, due to no other reason than his continuing presence in the domain, he might have protested Aether’s decision to leave for Natlan immediately a bit more strongly. As it was, he was barely restraining himself from just locking himself in his room until someone else could be found to take charge of her.

Needless to say, the way she followed him around when he did leave the room was doing wonders for his mood, and he kept his conversations with her brief, brusque, and bluntly unvarnished. She was old enough to entertain herself, wasn’t she?

The third day that the girl came to stand a respectful distance away from his forge, silently watching him work for hours on his penance, he cracked.

“What,” the wanderer snarled, finally deigning to acknowledge her existence with a glare. She was fed, she was clothed, there was no danger in the domain, there was even an entire library full of books that he knew the little menace had told her about - what could she possibly need? 

She fidgeted uncomfortably under his intense gaze, before nervously admitting, “I don’t have anything to do.”

“Go read a book,” he said immediately, returning his gaze to his current project. “There’s hundreds.”

The very tiny voice that mumbled in answer said, “But none of them are in Snezhnayan.”

He couldn’t help but scoff at the idea that she hadn’t learned to read the most widespread tongue in Teyvat. “What, they don’t teach common up north? You speak it just fine.” Not that he had any idea how the education system in Snezhnaya worked or what subjects it covered, it not being necessary for his work there. 

She shook her head, hands grasping the fabric of her worn dress and crumpling it between them as she spoke again. “No one needs to read common unless they’re going to leave, and the only people that leave are merchants and Fatui.”

To be fair, that was pretty accurate. Still didn’t solve the problem of one pre-teen girl with red hair a shade too close to familiar haunting his every step.

Kazeharu decided he just wasn’t going to think about it. There were a lot of things he wasn’t thinking about right now, and so he focused on resuming his hammer blows. Focused very deliberately on not thinking about anything but the smouldering blade taking shape beneath his hands.

He was not thinking about his son. Not the incarcerated Tartaglia or his missing family. Not Aether’s anxious face as he touched the foreign statue of the seven. He was definitely not thinking about the nervous child whose so-human breathing he could still hear from where she stood just outside the perimeter of his forge, watching as he expertly manipulated the unfinished length of steel with tongs and hammer, striking each blow in a smoothly polished, age-old sequence learned at the foot of long gone masters. 

He managed about thirty more minutes of this before he gave in again. “If you’re going to stand there anyway,” he grumbled, not looking at the redhead, “you might as well make yourself useful. Get me that smaller hammer from the rack there, the one with the rounded back and pointed nose.”

To his surprise, she picked up the right one. More useful than her brother, at least.

The fifth day he found himself lecturing the girl on the metallurgical properties of starsilver and the various methods of sharpening blades, after she asked why he wasn’t grinding an edge onto his works like the town smith in Morepesok.

“The edge of an Isshin blade is forged, not sharpened,” he said, picking up one of the finished swords awaiting hilt wrappings and braided cord for the grip. He showed her, the delicate seeming folds of metal that thinned to a razor sharp edge without the worn texture of a surface touched by a grindstone. “Here,” he said, sliding out a case from under the workbench and pulling out Aether’s old sword - the dull, barely serviceable blade that had been all he used until Kazeharu had taken it from him, firmly, and decisively, to replace it with something far more befitting a celestial traveler. “See the edge, here? This sort of blade requires constant sharpening to maintain its edge - but it’s also the easiest method to learn to make. Most blades you encounter will have edges like this, because a serviceable tool merely needs to be functional, not perfect.” She nodded silently as he spoke, tracing a curious hand over the minute grooves and striations carved into the steel by constant and repeated whetting.

“An Isshin blade, on the other hand,” he continued, laying the old sword back in its box, “is designed so that the natural wear and tear of battle will only hone the edge, not blunt it, the layers of metal peeling back in a carefully planned and exactingly precise method derived from centuries of study and experimentation.”

He held up a nugget of the bright metal for her to examine. “The key lies in the different hardnesses of the metals used in the making. The starsilver-melded base, as the hardest of the materials, is the last to wear away,” he told her - which essentially ensured that there was always a glimmer of moon-bright silver at the bare edge of his blades. 

He shoved aside the memory of how they had replaced the rare, expensive starsilver with the more common, energy-infused crystal marrow, for a time. He could theoretically understand the logic behind the move - a more common source, closer by, with the same hardness and imbued with extra energy to fuse into the blade and make it a more suitable channel for the elements - but the ancient curses of gods weren’t just simple ‘extra energies’ like the ones contained in the crystalline ores that grew from the ley lines.

He hadn’t known any better, then, but maybe someone should have.

Ten days in, and he was guiding wobbly strikes against a piece of scrap metal that he’d pulled from the wreckage of a Fatui camp he’d recently dismantled for Buer, thinking he might be able to use it for something. The quality had proven too shoddy to bother with for his tastes, but as an exercise in returning leftover scraps to useable ingots, it was suitable enough.

“Do you see the curve in the metal there?” he said after he stopped her latest blow midair with a casual and inhumanly strong hand to the handle, tracing the glowing steel with impervious artificial fingers to show her exactly what he was pointing to, their faces so close to the shapeless almost-ingot that the heat beat against their faces unrelentingly. “There’s an air bubble underneath that needs to be flattened before you should work the metal any further - as a human, if it bursts unexpectedly, you could get hurt.” And then Tartaglia would try to kill him, he added silently. Not that he ever could. “Bubbles are most likely to form at different temperatures in different metals, but they’re always something to watch out for, ideal temperature or not. Even beside the threat of injury, if you let them cool like this, it’ll become a flaw in your work - a weak point that might break under stress.”

“Doesn’t that hurt, Mister Niwa?” she asked curiously, lowering the small hammer again and watching him weave anemo about his scorched fingertips to cool them to a temperature that wouldn’t burn her.

“Not really,” he said, with a shrug. “I was built to withstand much more hazardous things.” Like the inside of an industrial forge at full blast (he shoved that thought aside without hesitation). It was uncomfortable to touch it, sure, but no, this was nothing in the long run.

“Try again,” he said instead, folding his arms and watching her shakily lift the hammer again with thin arms unused to the weight. “And remember to reheat the metal in the forge when the color dims.”

By the seventeenth day, he’d allowed her to help with one of the larger blades by using a second pair of tongs to hold the metal still as he worked it, following his orders when he needed to turn the blade and watching his every strike with frowning determination on that freckled face. He hadn’t expected the girl to actually pitch in, when he’d told her to do something instead of just standing around, that first day - and it was quite strange how earnestly she listened to his instructions, even if she was obviously just bored out of her mind being stuck in this place with no news and no real distractions to speak of.

Aether’s impromptu visits and Buer’s occasional check-ups were clear indications of that boredom; she’d abandon whatever she was working on at the first opportunity to go see them - though she’d never yet broken the rules about stopping a project that he’d laid out for her safety, after the first time she dropped a still-hot ingot on the wooden worktable with the tools instead of properly quenching it (the scorch mark on the table was still visible, a likely permanent reminder of her mistake). 

She begged their visitors for news, each and every time, and every time, she was disappointed.

Xiao had found no traces of the missing family members in his investigation, meaning it was likely the Fatui still held them. He’d confirmed the continuing existence of the other estranged siblings, then left before the lingering aura of his presence could become so concentrated that the Tsaritsa might notice something. At that point, it was up to their information networks to take up the slack.

It was unfortunate that the wanderer couldn’t go himself. He was intimately familiar with the various bases scattered around Snezhnaya, having spent centuries working in and around them. Unlike the Conquerer of Demons, though, his methods of traversing the country were limited to public waypoints and highly visible flight, and his frequent forays into the local Fatui camps had confirmed that by this point his appearance and likely status as a defector had been all but confirmed and publicly announced to the entire organization. His stolen stealth module was quite robust, but wouldn’t last the days that would be necessary for a solo excursion into the hostile frozen northlands.

Still, he wasn’t going to object to circumstances that let him selfishly hoard one particular person’s time and attention whenever possible.

Such as on this latest visit, which saw Paimon trying to teach the other girl to read common over their dinner, using the help of a large picture book acquired specifically for this purpose after Kazeharu had informed Aether that his library was lacking (and tricked the little sprite into doing the hard work). It was actually quite amusing watching them argue over the way the sounds for each character in their usual languages were assigned. (“What do you mean, there isn’t a letter for ж? How are you supposed to spell treasure, then?”)

“We don’t have a letter for that sound either,” Aether murmured in his ear from where he leaned against the other man’s side, nursing a warm cup of bitter tea, “though that may be because we don’t use it much at all. We use softer ones most of the time, like these,” continuing with some phrase in the bright liquid syllables of his native language, a teasing lilt to his voice. “⭒۞✧⌑,  ♮◌⌑♮⭒~”

He narrowed his eyes at the smug amusement on the blonde’s face, and said suspiciously, “You just called me an asshole or something, didn’t you.” It was not a question.

“Or something,” Aether agreed readily, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to his forehead and repeating part of it. “♮◌⌑♮⭒.”

“⌭◌⭒⌭⌑ yourself,” he snarled grumpily, doing his best to repeat the sounds and knowing they were wrong the moment they left his tongue. He could never have expected the way his lover’s face lit up at the attempt, though, as though the half-mangled and jagged fragments of no-longer-liquid sound were the most beautiful thing he’d ever heard. 

“♮◌⌑♮⭒, ♮◌⌑♮⭒,” the other man hummed breathily, eyes bright with emotion, shifting position to clasp the sides of his face gently and press a slow, sweet kiss to his more than willing lips. To the side, he could hear exaggerated exclamations of disgust from both children, which he ignored in favor of savoring whatever this oddly emotional reaction was. Nostalgia, perhaps? For the sounds of a language long dead from a tongue other than their own?

Perhaps, Kazeharu thought to himself as the kiss deepened, considering the reaction, he ought to make an effort to actually learn some of those flowing sunshine words, even if he could only convey an overcast sky with his own unskilled tongue for the moment.

Later, when the two girls had been sufficiently fed, entertained, and put to bed, their talk turned serious again.

“How go the war games?” he asked, knowing Aether had been dropped into a political quagmire far more complicated than the mere two or three factions of the other nations. The other man dropped his head back against the cushioned couch and let out a heavy breath, blowing back his bangs with the strength of it.

“It’s a mess,” was what the traveler eventually replied. “The alliances shift so quickly that it’s hard to read which factions are truly invested in their war-worship, and which are aiming for power, or money. All comers are free to join, so as long as Capitano plays along with the rules there’s nothing obviously illegitimate about the Fatui’s enlistment to disqualify them, despite nearly everyone suspecting it. What I don’t get,” the blonde continued with a deep sigh, “is what he hopes to get out of this.”

“If I remember correctly,” Kazeharu said, thinking back to those old strategy planning sessions, “Natlan was originally going to be targeted during the height of the Midsummer Festival, using the traditional coliseum event as the method. The winner, after all,” he turned his gaze to Aether with emphasis, “is granted the opportunity to spar with the God of War herself.”

“Meaning it would be the perfect opportunity for an ambush,” the blonde murmured, understanding flickering across his face. “Especially if a harbinger were to win the competition. That’s basically a free pass for an attack.”

“It was quite frankly one of the easier plans to put into motion,” the puppet said dryly, eyes glinting with amusement. “It’s also why they left it for last.”

“But now they’ve set their sights on the war games instead, because of their schedule moving up,” Aether said, tipping his head back again and tapping thoughtfully at his lips. “What I haven’t figured out yet is what they’ll get out of it. As far as I’ve been able to gather, there’s no guaranteed method to garner the Archon’s Favor, and even that isn’t usually presented directly, it just manifests in the appropriate commander’s camp.”

“Their current archon, Mavuika, is known to watch the more interesting conflicts personally, so I’d guess they’re banking on being able to corner her while she’s observing - and participating in the games gives them the excuse to have their scouts everywhere looking for her, since they’re nominally looking for their opponents.” Kazeharu snorted into his latest cup of tea. “She’s not stupid, though, she is the god of war, which includes strategy and tactics. Considering the recent trend of Archons losing their gnosi, she has to know what they’re aiming for.”

“…I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s planning to outmaneuver them somehow, but we’ve seen how well that’s worked for the last Archons.”

“Of course she is,” the wanderer snorted again, rolling his eyes. “What Archon isn’t scheming and plotting something at all hours of the day?”

The traveler opened his mouth, hesitated, then slowly uttered a familiar name, sounding unsure. “…Nahida?”

“Buer is just as devious as the worst of them, Aether, you know that,” he chided the man, giving him a flat, unamused look. “Just because her little schemes are mostly beneficial doesn’t change the fact that she’s manipulating things.”

“You help her do it, now,” his lover pointed out teasingly, as if that changed anything.

Kazeharu rolled his eyes again. “I never claimed to be any less a schemer myself,” he drawled unrepentantly, taking another long sip of tea. “You see, I happen to be capable of both facilitating her meddling and comprehending that she’s just as bad as the other gods when it comes to sticking her nose in things,” and he reached out and tapped Aether’s own nose in emphasis, though his hand was promptly captured and met with a gentle kiss before he could pull back, the first followed by others down his palm and to his wrist.

His joints were one of the few places it was still possible to really feel that he was inhuman, the long sealed crevices of his artificial skin still tangible beneath that seemingly smooth surface - the carved imitations of bony protrusions being merely that, imitations layered in lies. And yet, here was this man pressing tiny, loving kisses to every hidden surface beneath the appearance of humanity.

It was… disconcerting. Beautiful - and haunting at the same time.

His chest ached at the sight, squeezing uncomfortably as though it was sadness he was feeling, and not a rush of immense fondness for this man, this being, that knew exactly who and what he was and loved him all the same. 

The ache was not for the sight in front of him, he realized. Not for the little kisses against his palms. It was for all those years he spent without them.

For all the things that could have been.

There was no point in dwelling on it, he knew, no point in raising a specter they both understood very well. "If you're going to worship me, little star," he said instead, letting a knowing smile form on his face, twining his fingers through the hands that held them and tugging the other man forward and into his lap, "I'd rather it not be from afar, Traveler."

"As my ♮◌⌑♮⭒ wishes," the blonde hummed, dropping his hands in favor of running his fingers across the hidden joints at his jaw and neck, following each touch with a kiss to every invisible seam. Kazeharu slid his own hands up that slim back in response, under that temptingly short shirt, delicately tracing the scars outlining the hollow spaces where his lover's stolen pieces belonged.

He really wanted to see those wings someday, see his lover unbound and transcendent against the skies as he should be.

One element left, he reminded himself. One more until he breaks his chains.

Just one more.

Chapter Text

I would like to reiterate what we discussed on your last visit.

You are in no way obligated to ‘repay’ us for any of our assistance. As friends of the traveler, we would have done so in any case - indeed, if one were to speak of debts incurred and remunerations owed as immutable and purely transactional, ours would be by far the larger, rendering yours immaterial. Consider, then, that it is possible for actions to be mutually beneficial - incurring no true debt. We are both richer for having met and aided each other, in both experiences and knowledge.

If that still does not persuade you, consider this: you gain no tangible benefit from indulging Klee on your visits, yet do so anyway - and do so with no expectation of recompense. 

At what point is there a transaction in this relationship?

- Albedo.

Weeks became months, and still there was no sign of Childe.

That was, until Haru brought him the tiny miserable trickle of rumors of an escape by sea that leaked from the rank and file Fatui, despite every attempt to smother them and their sources by their superiors. He radiated smugness, pride that he had been the one to track down a clue, instead of anyone else. (It was just like him, really, to turn even that into a competition.)

Meanwhile, the Fatui Natlan campaign died an anticlimactic death as the winter war games wrapped up, the Archons Favor claimed unceremoniously by the third ranked contender as the first and second contenders were distracted fighting each other for the honor.

That meant, Haru told him, that they were likely turning back to the original strategy of claiming the gnosis during the Midsummer Festival tournament. The abrupt move to try during the war games had always been an uncertain gamble, and the Fatui had simply lost this one. It was unlikely that they would make another move before the festival, meaning they had time for now to turn their full attention to other tasks.

“Not like there’s much to do right now,” the man grumbled to him between hammer blows. “We've looked in all the obvious places for the truant ginger delinquent, Albedo and Dorian are still dissecting the plans for my fancy coffin, and even Buer hasn't had anything in particular for me lately.”

It was clear (at least to Aether) that he was simply antsy for something to do, an excess of energy that was worked off on fresh new sword after new sword or instructing his (inadvertent) pupils in swordsmanship and forging, and subsided only slightly when he was finally compelled to attend the opening ceremony for the newly opened Isshin school and forges - complaining grumpily afterward of the absolute audacity of ‘that upstart mortal detective’ and ‘his offensive flirtations’ that had been used as cover to pass newly sourced information, even as he carefully spread the intercepted bounty warrants across the desk in Aether’s study for them to examine.

Two bounties. Two former harbingers.

It wasn’t hard to see why Heizou had determined them to be of great interest in their investigation into the Fatui. Simple flyers confiscated from treasure hoarders, at first glance, but containing a wealth of information in the unwritten words and unspoken expectations.

“Fifty million mora for my head,” the puppet murmured, fingers tracing the rough semblance of his face and distinctive hat stamped onto the identical papers in the little stack. “Twenty million for Tartaglia, and no stipulation of life being necessary for either. We can definitively take from that they have no further need of the former eleventh - whatever they wanted from him, they have already. Loose, he’s only a liability now.” 

Aether picked one up himself, examining the wording of the description of the ‘crime’. “And they’ve clearly eliminated any other possible candidates for the traitor, to have so boldly declared you a former harbinger for their entire network to see.”

“Yes,” the wanderer said, lips thinning in distaste as Aether spoke aloud the obvious truth he had avoided stating.

He said, softly, knowing that with this the man had essentially lost all real anonymity again; traded the clean slate and respectability of an upstanding sage for the added reprehensible notoriety of a dangerous felon once more as the knowledge spread… “Are you… okay with this?” 

Inazuma’s records of the details being sealed meant nothing if the rest of the world knew the general events anyway.

“I knew what it meant as soon as I wrote that warning,” Haru said eventually, after a long, still silence. He raised his head from the bounties, eyes vacant and unseeing. “How did you say that mage put it? ‘When a small animal runs into a tree trunk… though the tree may sway, it is not displaced.’ Everything that happened, still happened - you confirmed that yourself. The puppet shaped hole in the narrative was merely cleverly concealed, not truly gone.”

The traveler was forced to nod. It was true. When you knew what to look for, the signs of his existence were still clear. 

“If history never really changed,” the man murmured, sharp indigo gaze focusing again as he turned to Aether, “then perhaps this is simply the record finally correcting itself. The eponymous tree returning to equilibrium - nothing more than I deserve.”

“Still,” he said, reaching out to clasp their hands together with a gentle squeeze, “It’s one thing to know, and another for it to actually happen.”

The other’s mood shifted in a blink, an amused smirk forming on those lips as he grasped Aether’s hand back just as tightly and pulled, tugging his lover into his arms and nearly purring with mischief. “Are you trying to comfort me, little star?”

“Whatever gave you that idea?” the blonde said, letting a teasing lilt slip into his tone. “Does that sound like something I would do?”

He was awarded an exaggerated eye roll. “Obviously.”

“Maybe I just want the opportunity to spend more time with you,” the traveler said, leaning forward to press their foreheads together, gazing fondly into those mischievous eyes. “We’re always running about fighting or solving whatever crisis needs fixing this time around. When do we ever get the chance to just go out and appreciate each other’s company?”

“No,” he added quickly, forestalling the words that would inevitably follow the devious grin forming out of the smirk, “that doesn’t count.”

“Doesn’t count for what, ♮◌⌑♮⭒?” was the immediate, cheeky response. “I certainly feel like I show a respectable amount of appreciation for you when we-”

“Publicly appropriate appreciation,” Aether clarified, exasperated. “Which you know perfectly well is what I meant, you asshole.”

“You must be speaking of your asshole,” the man replied immediately, sly grin widening further, and the traveler knew he’d walked right into that one. “I don’t have one, if you remember.”

“It’s no wonder, with a personality like that you hardly need one,” the blonde muttered with a huff, conceding he’d lost that particular round. "But it is true that we haven't ever just gone out together - we're always busy."

“Why bother with any of that nonsense, anyway?” the wanderer asked with a tilt of his head, face returning to its usual unimpressed neutrality. “I don’t give a damn what anyone else thinks of us, there’s no need to conform to all their ‘normal’ human expectations.”

“Says the man who was literally just complaining about Heizou calling me ‘dreamy’ when I’m already taken,” the traveler pointed out with a smile. “How do you expect people to respect ‘us’ if they don’t even know there’s an us to respect in the first place?”

That logic made an impact, the wanderer visibly pausing to absorb the statement. “I should stake my claim openly, you mean,” he said, clearly reconsidering his stance. That hadn’t actually been what Aether had meant at all - but too late to retract his words now, with the glint in Haru’s eyes and the way his hand tightened around the traveler’s own. “Very well,” he said, radiating lofty superiority and determination as he stepped away, pulling the blonde with him. “I will indulge your whims, little star. Come.”

And that was how Aether found himself outside the wanderer’s favorite Sumeran café a few hours later, at a tiny couple’s table overlooking the harbor, with a cup of the wanderer’s black, bitter coffee in front of him, and Aether’s own cream topped macchiato in Haru’s hand. The other man had claimed the chair in the shade, leaving the blonde the chair still soaked in warm sunlight with a knowing look - and in truth Aether was enjoying the soft, delicate, not-flavor of the late spring afternoon light far too much to mind that his ostensible drink had been stolen.

“Too sweet,” the puppet muttered, nose wrinkling in distaste as he pulled back so hastily that a dollop of cream stuck to the end. (Cute, the traveler thought to himself with a fond smile, earning himself a scowl from the other man and a flicker of embarrassment across their mental link.)

“Let me get that,” he said aloud with an amused hum, leaning forward to wipe the offending concoction off the other’s face. His hand was captured before he could sit back again, and the menace made as if to kiss his knuckles, but instead licked the cream off his finger salaciously, smiling smugly and not breaking eye contact - in full view of the other patrons and the scandalized server.

Aghast, blood rushing to his face (and lower still, to his quiet mortification), he sputtered the man’s name in protest. “H-haru!”

The contrary puppet merely laughed throatily, devilish smile widening in satisfaction as he adjusted his grip to twine their fingers together, giving no indication he was planning to let go any time soon. “That is in fact the name you gave me, little star.” He practically purred the endearment. “Did you want something?”

“My coffee back, for one,” Aether said dryly, recovering at least some of his composure under the wide-eyed stares of their involuntary audience, “since you don’t seem inclined to actually drink it.”

“And what are you offering to trade for it, hmm?” The other man fluttered dainty eyelashes at him, propping his chin on his free hand - the very picture of innocent attentiveness. “Nothing in this world comes for free, you know.”

“What are you asking for it?” the traveler countered, curious to see where this was going.

“I’d ask for your hand, but it seems I already have that,” Haru said saucily, raising their twined hands as evidence. “You’ll have to think of something else.”

A little game, then, to find the desired bribe. Best to start simple. “Your coffee for my coffee.”

“How unoriginal. Boring, one might say,” the puppet drawled, leaning back with a languid wave of his hand. “Offer me your starlit words instead, or the warmth of your gaze; even the taste of that terrible coffee on your lips.”

If that was how the wanderer wanted to play this, then he’d match him eloquent word for eloquent word. “I’m afraid those already belong to you, my ♮◌⌑♮⭒, just like my hand and breath and beating heart.” More quietly, he added, every syllable nothing but earnest truth, “I’ve nothing to offer you that isn’t already yours for the asking.”

The startled blink he got in response to that clearly unexpected sincerity was endearing, the flush creeping up those pale carven cheeks and ears even more so. The other’s free hand rose to tug down the wide brim of the kasa, a so-familiar gesture that Aether could imagine with his eyes closed by now.

“You were supposed to flirt back, idiot,” the other man muttered from behind the hat, ears still tellingly red, “not confess your undying devotion.”

He wasn’t sorry in the slightest, and he knew the other man could feel exactly that through their clasped hands. 

“Stop that,” Haru hissed, quietly thumping their linked hands against the table as Aether flooded the connection even further with genuine fondness and appreciation of his surprisingly bashful reaction. Once again, he was being very cute. “We’ve been over this before, dumbass - I am a very dangerous. Former. Criminal. I Am Not. Cute!”

“The puppet doth protest too much, methinks,” Aether murmured gently, quoting a well-known line from a famous Fontainian play. Those dark eyes widened, then narrowed in indignation.

“Just for that, you’re not getting your coffee back,” the wanderer threatened, picking it up and making as if to dump it into the greenery at their side. His sudden movement halted, though, when Nahida’s voice interrupted them both, the message meant for Haru but echoing through their linked hands so that Aether ‘overheard’.

Kazeharu, she began, urgency threaded through the words. The southwestern coastal matra have reported an unscheduled, undocumented Fatui ship drifting aimlessly off the shore. It’s not responding to any of their signaling and it’s in very bad shape - they’re convinced it’s some kind of trap. I need you to intercept it, immediately.

“Oh thank Buer,” Haru muttered, abandoning the cup (and the discussion) on the little table with a clatter, as he stood to place one foot on the carved railing facing the harbor. “Finally, something to do.”

Be careful you two, the little god whispered to them, clearly having noticed Aether’s additional mental presence from the start. I’m sure you don’t need me to remind you that the Fatui are dangerous whether it’s a trap or not.

Yeah, yeah, we get it, Buer, the wanderer sent back with a huff, launching himself into the air over the little café and tugging Aether along with him - the blonde belatedly summoning his own halo just in time to follow the puppet as he let go and shot across the cityscape at full speed.

Below them, faces turned in their direction and people pointed at the unusual sight of their two sages streaking across the sky in broad daylight - Aether could almost feel the worry rising in the air as assumptions were made and rumors began to spread. It wasn’t every day that vision bearers (or similar, in Aether’s case) were granted the clearance to use their powers in such a heavily populated area, and that alone would be cause for concern among the regular citizens - that it was two such famous ones would only fuel the rumor mills.

So much for stealth, he thought to Haru as they swooped lower to skim the lush jungle treetops. Hopefully we won’t need it.

Trust me, the wanderer replied, still focused on scanning the swiftly approaching ocean for any sign of their target, if we were going to need stealth, Buer would have said something.

Fair enough, Aether supposed. Nahida had asked them to intercept the ship, not infiltrate it. Either way, it was too late for that now - every intelligence network in Teyvat would be hearing about their abrupt departure and unusual haste before nightfall, one way or another. For now, they simply needed to focus on their task.

The ship in question was drifting seemingly aimlessly with the current, pulled in towards the shore bit by bit, as each small wave gently rocked it it just that much nearer. He could see why the matra would be concerned, as close to the shore as they were, despite being well away from any settlements. As Nahida had said, it was heavily damaged - barely seaworthy for even a short voyage. At first glance it was deserted, tiny deck empty, the standard Fatui tinted bulletproof windows hiding all sight of the interior.

The lingering elemental energy surrounding the ship said otherwise.

The two men exchanged a look.

It was recent, within the last day, Aether would guess. Traces of hydro surrounded the stern and rudder, likely used to propel it through the water - perhaps the engine was damaged as well as the hull. He dropped closer, noting other hints of occupancy - a fishing line coiled neatly, hidden under a stool, and a tackle box that was just a little too clean to have been abandoned at the same time as the boat would have been. Both had clearly been used relatively recently. He pointed them out to Haru, who merely nodded, unsurprised, indicating the fresher ropes tying down the weathered drape in the singular doorway, knots too clean and neat to have been out in the salty sea air for very long.

If it were any element but hydro, the traveler would have been more cautious. But with the intel Haru’d found, he dared to hope that it was a lucky break instead.

Pulling on his memory of Xiao, he called to the anemo in the air on the other side of that tarp, and in a rush of air he was also on the other side of it.

And immediately had to dodge a vicious slice from an all too familiar hydro blade. 

Behind him, the tarp was torn off as the wanderer heard the whistle of the attack and dashed in to intervene - Aether, meanwhile, scrambled backward to dodge another vicious slice that would’ve decapitated him had he been any slower, frantically waving his hands in hopes that Childe would stop to look as he called, “Wait, wait!” 

Apparently the sound of his voice was enough for the former harbinger to pause long enough to check the identity of his opponent, and the bright grin and eager voice that greeted them as he stepped back was just as chipper as usual, despite the slight rasp from months at sea. “Iviathe!”

“Oh,” the puppet said unenthusiastically, from over the traveler’s shoulder, hands and elemental markings still glowing with furious teal energy, “it’s you.”

“In the flesh, comrades!” the former harbinger beamed. “Well, most of it, anyway.” He gestured flippantly to the missing arm that Aether was only just now registering, almost proudly, like a trophy he’d won by surviving its loss.

“Yeah,” Haru said dryly, dismissing the anemo with a sharp gesture and folding his arms, “that’s him alright. Only the real Tartaglia would show off a missing limb.”

A flicker of seriousness crossed the redhead’s face, covered immediately by false cheer. “Tartaglia who?” he said innocently, checking behind him with exaggerated interest.

“Hilarious,” the wanderer deadpanned, “but noted. I doubt you’ll want us to call you ‘Jaxie’ though.”

The redhead’s face scrunched up as though he’d smelled something awful. “Yeah, no. I lost my first family name when my parents enlisted me; I lost my second when the Tsaritsa betrayed me.” He straightened with a strange, proud glint in those flat blue eyes, and said, “All that’s left to me is my heritage as a child of Snezhnaya - call me Snezhevich like any other orphan.”

“Snezhevich,” Aether said slowly, testing it out. “Ajax Snezhevich. It makes sense.”

“Sure does, comrade! Anyway,” the former harbinger said, waving the topic away with his lone hand, urgency creeping into his voice. “Updates, now. My little brothers are here with me - what about my sister? Where is she? Is she alright?”

“She’s been staying at his house,” Haru said, jerking a thumb in the blonde’s direction. “She’s fine. Morax and Paimon are keeping her entertained right now, while we’re out.”

“Ah, that’s a relief,” the taller man muttered, visibly relaxing. “The boys didn’t get hurt, but they’re still terrified half the time. They’ll be glad to know she’s okay, too - they’re sleeping right now, though, since we’ve been moving under cover of night.”
 
“Might as well wake them up," Haru said brusquely. “Can’t stop the Fatui from learning the ship was found, but we can at least leave them nothing to find-”

“Comrade,” Tar- Snezhevich, he corrected himself - said, affronted. “They’re finally sleeping without screaming nightmares and you want me to wake them up?? What kind of older brother would I-”

The traveler tuned out what was developing into a heated argument between the two former harbingers, complete with dramatic arm movements, and turned to examine the interior of the ship. The floor was scrawled with tiny, sharply carved navigational calculations and the occasional unfamiliar star map - the sheer amount of space occupied by them spoke volumes about the veritable odyssey the trio had endured to make it here.

A flicker of movement from the shore caught his eye, and he looked up through the darkened windows to see what might have been just another stray ruin guard…

Were it not for the slim figure in a pale dress perched on its shoulder, watching them impassively.

Lumine.

Chapter Text

There were times when he wanted nothing more than to throw caution to the wind and charge straight to Zapolyarny Palace to demand answers. Restitution. Retribution.

Patience, he reminded himself time and again. The delicate threads of information that spun through his fingers into webs of knowledge would yield results eventually - and he was fully capable of waiting centuries for the piece he needed, just as he had when orchestrating what turned out to be the misguided, pointless demise of the Raiden Gokaden. There was no need to hurry. No need to skim the words of every report like each one might hold the secrets of the universe.

If anything, the secrets of the universe belonged to his otherworldly, incandescent lover. But he was chained, chained as Kazeharu had been, and though his bonds were of power and not of trickery, he couldn’t help but want to break them, to see him rise against the sky in his true strength, to take his revenge against those who had bound him.

It was his fondest wish, now.

Those familiar pale gold eyes met his, even through the darkened one-way glass, and he knew she saw him. 

And still turned away, back straight and regal even as she swayed with the slow, rocking steps of the ruin guard carrying her back into the jungle. 

He couldn’t do this.

Not again.

He couldn’t watch her leave even once more, and he flung himself forward through the discrete spaces between and behind the anemo in the air, vanishing from the ship and leaving the two arguing ex-Fatui behind without a word, pulling himself back together in the space she had just been occupying.

“Lumine!”

There was no reply.

“You’re leaving?” (Just like that? he did not add.)

“What reason is there to remain, brother?” she said, coolly, not looking at him. The ruin guard trudged onward, indifferent to the sloping earth and thick underbrush of the jungle floor.

“That,” he said, an ache twisting in his chest. “Isn’t that reason enough to at least acknowledge me?”

“I am acknowledging you,” she pointed out. “I see your journey still has yet to finish; truth yet unfound. My presence here, as an enemy of the gods, is potentially detrimental to your well-being. Thus, with the damaged harbinger no longer a suitable candidate, there is no reason to stay, and every reason to leave.”

Ch- Ajax? No longer a-? No, he thought to himself, shoving everything else aside for the moment, focusing on the one small statement that let a tiny sliver of hope that she still cared bloom within him once again.

“I’ve missed you,” is what he said instead, letting the raw pain he felt at their separation bleed into his voice. “I’ve missed you.”

And she turned to look at him, finally. “I know,” she said, as if she wasn’t riding the shoulder of a machine built for war, as if she weren’t leading a violent insurrection, as if they were simply talking together in a pause on their unending journey just as they used to. As if they were still two halves of one soul, binary stars orbiting each other without fail on their lonely, winding path through the universe.

“Aether,” she said, her hand lifting as if to reach out to him. The sound of his name was a balm to his heart, the steel in her voice fading for a moment, her eyes briefly softening, before her hand dropped and all trace of compassion vanished again. “Continue your journey,” she said, face expressionless once more. “Follow the hidden secrets and bitter remnants they try so hard to hide. At the end of the road, when all is said and done, there will be time enough for both of us once more.”

“Lumine-” he started, only for her to shake her head.

“The final act draws near, brother,” she said. “Soon. Soon, the adjudication will begin, and that which follows. What must follow. Until then…”

Before she could turn away again, could leave him yet again, he grabbed her wrist, pleading with his eyes for her to stay, to listen - only for her to react in apprehension with some of the only real emotion he’d seen from her, to snatch her arm away and vanish into one of her abyssal portals, ruin guard and all.

Leaving him to wonder if he had been imagining what he’d felt, in those brief seconds he’d touched her.

He had recognized the feel of those imitated bones - was intimately familiar with them, the hidden seams beneath the appearance of flesh - and the sudden sickening feeling that swept him left him gasping for air that he abruptly couldn’t inhale properly. An awful, horrifying implication that sent chills running down his spine.

It was her. He could sense it, sense her presence when she was near. And yet, that had not been her arm. Perhaps not her body at all. It couldn't be true, he thought, staring blankly at the space where she had disappeared - perhaps she'd... simply lost the arm. Was controlling a remote body to interact with the world outside the abyss (but that wouldn’t explain why her soul was there, so strong, so very present) and he was just leaping to conclusions that he really shouldn’t be - (but he knew. He knew, deep down, that there was only one possible explanation for this, the only one that made any sense with all he’d learned before-)

At some point, some how, she had traded her alien stardust for the artificial joints and casing of a puppet grown and shaped straight from Teyvat itself. (A choice? Or had it been-)

No wonder Irminsul recognized her as one of its own, now.

(And what of her true body, he wondered in the back of his head, despite his attempts to suppress his thoughts, his rising urge to vomit. It wouldn’t have simply decayed or disappeared, like flesh. What if-)

He abruptly became aware of arms around him, holding him through shuddering gasps and burning eyes. When had he begun crying? There was a familiar voice speaking, threatening - yet somehow comforting - words directed at the woman who had just run from him again, promising retribution for every one of his tears and sobs.

The truth of this world, he remembered her saying, and thought that perhaps he had found just a little bit more of that truth right then.

It was a much subdued traveler that returned to the tiny Fatui ship, a scowling wanderer bristling protectively by his side. It had taken every ounce of Ajax’s willpower to not take off after the pair when the blonde had disappeared in a rush of wind, followed promptly by the Inazuman man lighting up like a domain door and tearing out after him, leaving him to wonder what the hell he’d missed. The sage hadn’t even bothered to finish the (unfortunately compelling) argument he’d been making against blowing up the remains of the ship when they were done evacuating, and had made enough noise to wake up his little brothers to boot. The time spent waiting for the two men to come back had been spent alternately comforting his treasures (as best he could, when one of them still flinched at loud noises and sudden movements, and the other refused to leave the safety of the small bedroom and had a miles long stare that spoke silently of broken trust and promises) and stalking the confines of the covered deck to occupy himself.

His prowling having been interrupted by their return, he halted immediately, one foot paused midair, and abandoned all pretense of patience. “What happened to us getting the hell out of here?” he demanded.

His answer was a roll of the Inazuman’s eyes, followed by a clipped, brief, “His sister happened, dumbass.”

“You actually found her?!” He spun gracefully out of his exaggerated freeze and twisted to plant both feet solidly on the deck again, compensating for the missing weight of his arm with the ease of weeks worth of practice. The former harbinger hadn’t really been keeping up with the status of Iviathe’s little quest, having been somewhat distracted by his own family woes - why did the man look so glum, then?

“A’viathe left me behind, again,” the traveler said dully, unsurprised resignation in the slump of his shoulders. He gave a dismissive wave of his hand, attempting to push the matter aside for now. “She’s made it clear that she’s not interested in going anywhere or doing anything before she’s done with whatever she’s working on.”

“She could at least try to explain it to you,” the wanderer muttered, probably not for the first time, judging by the look the blonde shot him.

“Anyway,” Iviathe announced with a clap of his hands, clearly done talking about it, “enough about that, we’ve got a rescue to pull off, right?” He smiled too brightly at the two solemn children eyeing them warily from locations solidly behind their elder brother. Despite everything, Ajax was still safer than anyone else they knew.

“This is my friend the Traveller I’ve written you about, kiddos,” the taller redhead said cheerfully, trying to assure them with his relaxed demeanor that these people, at least, weren’t threats. “And this is his friend, the - uh, the Wanderer. They’ve been helping Tonia hide from those bad guys and they’re gonna let us stay with her too!”

Anthon wasn’t so easily persuaded, doubt on his face as he shuffled closer to hug his leg and ask, quietly, “Didn’t you say the other guys were your friends too, Jaxie?”

Fair point. Unfortunately.

“Hey now,” he said with an uncomfortable laugh, one hand bashfully scratching the back of his neck as he deflected, “we weren’t friends friends, really, we just worked together, you know…” How to explain to an intelligent and suspicious eleven year old the complicated inner politics of the Fatui? There were multiple reasons he’d told the younger two he was a toy salesman, that chief among them.

The blonde stepped in to save Ajax before he could shove his foot any further into his mouth, pushing aside his gloom for the moment to focus on the (rightfully) skeptical children. “Would you feel better if you could talk to your big sister first? Then you can see for yourselves that she’s just fine, before you decide if you want to come with us too.”

Anthon nodded solemnly, with all the gravity a small boy clinging to his big brother’s pants could convey. Even Teucer, still half hidden behind the door to their makeshift bedroom, added a stiff, nervous jerk of his head in acknowledgment.

The traveler smiled at them, before gesturing and summoning - a teapot, of all things? A floating, porcelain teapot with delicate - and clearly expensive glazework and decoration - hovered above his hand, before he raised a finger to his lips and winked at the two children as if he was sharing a secret with them.

And then he dissolved into a swirl of air, to the gasps of the two brothers, a startled blink from Ajax himself, and a wordless scoff from the wanderer, leaving the teapot the sole occupant of the space he’d been standing in.

The ex-harbinger’s mind jumped into action at the sight, all the possibilities of a potential domain hidden in something as ridiculous and innocuous as a teapot running through his mind at breakneck speed. No wonder we could never find the damn kid when he wasn’t actively on the move. A portable domain - of course. Judging by the distinctly Liyuean style of the art, he could hazard a guess as to where the man had gotten the thing too (and now he had to wonder if Zhongli had a private domain just casually on his person at all times - it would certainly explain where all of the things he hoarded went. Perhaps the earring? Easy enough to detach and hide somewhere inconspicuous if he wanted to disappear…)

That was a distracting thought that could wait for later, he told himself. Right now, he needed to capitalize on the show Iviathe had put on and make sure his brothers didn’t lapse back into their wariness.

“That’s his secret house, you know,” he said, with a wink of his own to the two. “Only special people get invited inside.”

“Have you been, Jaxie?” Anthon asked, starry-eyed and awed, forgetting his fear for the moment. Teucer, despite remaining silent, was clearly just as invested in this possibility, his entire face a question.

“Sure have!” Ajax lied proudly without missing a beat. “I know you’ll just love the place. It’s got tons of space in it-” at least, he assumed it did - “and all sorts of neat things Iviathe’s collected during his travels-” he certainly wasn’t keeping them anywhere else, anyway - “and an awesome kitchen with loads of food!” (if Paimon lived there too, food was a given.)

He ignored the knowing, faintly condescending look the traveler’s ‘friend’ was directing at him as he expounded upon all the cool things that might be in such a secret house - “books galore, Anthon, so many books-” clearly waiting for him to tell one lie too many and trip himself over his own words. So sorry to disappoint, mister aloof-and-contrary, but Ajax was far too experienced at making stories up for his siblings to fail at this small of a task. Even Teucer had slid out from behind the safety of his door a little, engrossed as he was in the fantastical weave of what-if’s that he was spinning for them.

It was unfortunate that the teapot chose that moment to spit the traveler (this time with his ever-present sprite companion) back out in another swirl of air just at that time, a fourth redhead in tow - both boys flinched and retreated back into their shells at the unexpected movement. But there was no time to reassure them before a veritable whirlwind of braids and freckles hit him at top speed, burying her face in his stomach with a loud wail in Snezhnayan of “Jaxie! Jaxie, you’re okay!”

“Hey there, princess,” he replied softly in their mother tongue, hugging her as best he could with one arm, as the single remaining thin curl of unease in his chest dissipated with the sight of his unharmed, unconstrained little sister. “We’re back now, don’t worry. Everything is gonna be just fine. I promise.”

It took only that reassurance for Anthon to break down too, wailing and sniveling in relief at the sight of his older sister, even in this strange outfit with a thick apron and oddly smelling of iron and soot - one hand released its grip on Ajax’s pants to curl into hers instead so that he could press himself into both their bodies for the reassurance that they were there, and real, and across the way Teucer made an aborted movement as though he too wished to join them, to verify their existence and breath and bodies for himself… only to retreat back from the too-open space between the doorway and his siblings.

A mere few feet that clearly became a yawning chasm in his eyes, and Ajax could see the boy flinch back again. A tiny movement - minute, really - hardly noticeable unless one was familiar with such fear, alert to its tells. 

And before he could move to reassure him, before he could drag the wailing duo of children to their stranded third, a different, gruff voice spoke.

“Here,” the wanderer said, not looking at anyone, just far enough away from the door to cautiously extend the overly ornate and ridiculous hat into Teucer’s reach without being threatening. Both Ajax and his smallest brother merely stared, confused (and nervous) until the man grew impatient and leaned forward to unceremoniously plop the thing on to the boy’s head. That earned him another flinch, and a distrustful stare from under it, but the sage merely cleared his throat and folded his arms, still not looking at anyone. 

“It can’t make the world go away,” the shorter man said, letting his hair fall forward to hide his face instead, “but when it all gets too much, you can at least pull the brim down so you don’t have to look at all of it.”

Oh, thought Ajax, in a sudden moment of clarity. Was that what Teucer had been doing with the door? Making the world smaller so it wasn’t so scary? And here was this wanderer, offering him what must be his own personal, portable ‘door’ that he could hide behind, because he understood.

He felt a sudden rush of affection for the slender Inazuman, grumpy though he might seem. The traveler always, always found the good ones, didn’t he? Maybe some of them were questionably good people (himself included) but they were always capable of compassion. Compassion that now resulted in their group hug growing from three to four, the smallest boy shuffling cautiously forward to join them too.

Even over the renewed blubbering of his treasures, his trained ears caught the faint whisper the traveler directed at the wanderer (Aw, Haru, look at you caring and being a sweetheart), followed by the swift and uncompromising near-silent reply (I will kill you).

He buried his face in the hug, deciding that nothing else mattered for the moment, but was soon pulled back to reality again. Cool, inhuman fingers closed just above his remaining elbow, squeezing harshly to grab his attention, and the now hatless man said firmly, eyes glittering in the dim light, “If it gets damaged, you are replacing it.” It was clearly intended to be a threat, though the dark glare was somewhat undermined by the patient tolerance displayed when a small hand twisted in those pleated shorts to pull the Inazuman close as well.

It drew a snort from him, followed by a full-blown laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of the entire situation, as the last of the tension drained from him entirely. The tiny voice in his head pointed out, on cue, that this would be the perfect opportunity for the Dottore segment he’d sealed in the ruined engine room to take them all off guard and reveal it had survived after all-

“The what?” the wanderer whispered harshly. “You left what in the engine room?”

Huh. Judging by the look on his face, the man seemed more concerned about a dead harbinger doppelganger than the situation really called for.

Wait.

Had he even said that out loud? He certainly hadn’t thought so-

The shorter man ignored his sudden confusion, turning instead to stare into Iviathe’s eyes with a serious face, their expressions flickering and shifting rapidly as though they were having a full-blown conversation. The impression was only solidified by the small twitches of their hands and arms, aborted half-gestures to accompany their silent words.

Ah, right, he realized belatedly. The dendro archon’s chosen would certainly count mental abilities like hers among the potential blessings they could receive.

Sneaky bastard, he thought deliberately, just to test his little theory. The hand on his arm tightened briefly as the thought formed, then let go entirely as the intended provocation was ignored. Still, the fact that it had landed at all meant he was likely right.

Okay, so he was stuck in a small room with a mind reader. No big deal, really. None of his secrets were his to keep anymore, there was nothing to worry about (except for the things that he just didn’t want to remember, that no one else needed to know…)

The beginnings of spiraling panic were interrupted by a soft clap from Iviathe, quite obviously aiming to distract the children as he said brightly, “Okay, so who wants dinner? I bet you’re starving!”

“Can we have blini?” Anthon asked, attention thoroughly diverted.

“Of course!” the traveler said, with a brilliant smile, gently herding the reluctant children towards the teapot. “We can have anything you want today.”

“Ooh, ooh, I want blini too!” Paimon chimed in. “I don’t know what they are but I want to try them!”

“They’re so good-”

The voices faded into smoke with the rest of them, and the remaining sage turned to him sharply once they were gone. “Now,” he growled, staring up at the taller man with intensity that could rival the sun, “tell me about this segment.”

There really wasn’t much to tell, in the end; it had been on the ship when he’d initiated their desperate teleportation, and hadn’t survived. The wanderer nodded along with the short account as he unlocked the door to reveal the oddly decomposing not-quite-a-corpse, understanding the reference to the waverider teleportation experiments without needing any further explanation.

“That still doesn’t explain why you kept it on the ship, especially with those boys onboard,” the other man finally interrupted him. “Especially if you were concerned it was potentially still alive - you realize all of them are connected to each other, right? Even as a corpse he could be using it to track your location right now.”

“Well, I figured it was better to know where it was than to toss it off the side and have it secretly following us-” He stopped abruptly. The casual familiarity with which the man spoke of secrets known only to Harbingers, the way he’d understood the reference to those experiments without a second thought - things finally clicked in Ajax’s mind, and he blurted out eloquently, “You’re the defector Scaramouche, aren’t you? Gods damn, no wonder you didn’t want to talk to me back in Liyue-”

The other man said nothing, not even to deny it, just scowled bitterly at Ajax.

“…Wait!” the redhead said, straightening abruptly as he realized something. “Wait, wait wait wait, does this mean I’ve already had the chance to fight you and I just don’t remember?”

He clutched his head in horror at the thought even as the wanderer folded his arms and rolled his eyes with a muttered “oh, here we go”, mourning the loss of what must surely have been an epic battle between the two of them, the bloodthirsty eleventh and this master deceiver as the sixth. How would he have fought? Who would have won? What had the stakes been? Wages? Missions?

“How could you do such a thing to me, comrade?” the former harbinger nearly wailed in dismay. “To rob me of such a hard-fought battle, especially one with such a strong opponent - so cruel!”

“If you’re quite done with your dramatics,” the sage said dryly, having knelt to examine the remains of the segment, “I think you should be aware that this thing is in fact still somewhat functional, as far as I can tell. The damage was mostly to the torso, which contains the power source from what I remember - the head contains sensors, transmitters, and delicate computational equipment.”

Ajax stilled, dropping the lost memory topic for now. “Does that mean he actually was tracking us?”

The Inazuman hummed in thought as he cracked open the head along smooth joints with the ease of long practice. This was clearly not the first segment the man had disassembled. “It depends on whether there was a backup power source for the connection to use.” Indeed, as they looked over the disturbingly biological-seeming insides of the corpse, there was a tiny, blinking red light that could be seen. The wanderer shot Ajax a pointed look as delicate fingers fiddled with something. There was a loud click and a hum of satisfaction, and the light died.

“That takes care of that,” the man said, closing the head back up and slipping whatever piece he’d stolen into his sleeve. “If he was tracking you, I’d suggest leaving before whatever Fatui they’ve snuck through the cracks here in Sumeru make it.”

“And what, you’ll stay here to throw them a welcoming party?” He would be quite disappointed to miss out on what promised to be a good fight.

“No,” the sage said, a cruel smile playing across his lips that offered Ajax a glimpse of the harbinger he’d been before. “I have plans for this thing.” He hefted the corpse across his shoulder in one smooth motion despite it being nearly twice his height.

“Let them find an empty boat where they thought they had you cornered,” he said, pushing off the deck to hover in the air with his prize. “Let them think it a mere diversion.

“It will be all the more satisfying when they realize how close they were and missed.”

Chapter Text

Fondest wish, yes, but not the only.

He found, to his surprise, that the list of things he wanted to see accomplished before he died only kept growing, growing past first his revenge and then past Aether’s; growing to include even those he’d disdained and disregarded when they’d met.

When Albedo opened the door, there was nobody there.

At least, so it seemed.

There was a suggestion of a figure, if one looked for the void in the lazily drifting snowflakes, the way they curled and spun into eddies around the suggestion of form. An interesting phenomenon, the homunculus noted, wondering in the back of his mind if there might be a way to counter that nigh-unnoticeable flaw in what was clearly an advanced invisibility field of some kind. 

The rest of his mind was calculating the odds of needing to dodge an imminent incoming attack. Then an impatient, familiar voice demanded, "Well? Are you just going to stand there in the doorway, or are you going to let me in?"

Ah. He knew that voice.

The void in the snow brushed by him when he stepped to the side to let it in, leaving behind the shrouding snowflakes that had outlined it. 

“To what do I owe the pleasure, Wanderer?” Albedo inquired. They had been communicating via letter, for the most part, so a physical visit indicated something more than information needed to be exchanged.

“Where’s the kid?” the voice asked, ignoring the question. “She doesn’t need to see this.”

“Dorian is acquiring supplies for his latest project, and Klee has joined him in Mondstadt.”

“Good,” the puppet said, form fading into visibility as he tossed a round object at Albedo. “I brought you a present.”

“A severed head,” he observed with a raised eyebrow, handling it cautiously. “An unusual choice for a gift, by most standards.”

It was clear by the mask that the owner of the head had been Fatui, and being in possession of a similar body structure to Kazeharu, it left their identity in no doubt. “Your former colleague,” he stated, with rising interest. “I presume you have brought me this for analysis?”

“Sure,” the wanderer said, waving a hand, mouth twisting around the words as though they weren’t quite true. “Let’s call it that. I brought the rest of it too, in case you want it. But mostly,” he continued, eyes flashing with something dark, “I want you to see if you can figure out some way to reverse engineer this asshole’s mental clone network and use it to track him down - or at the very least monitor the bastards.”

“Very well,” the alchemist nodded, curiosity piqued. “Investigating the feasibility of such a tracking device would be well worth the time. Would you care to join me in my laboratory? I believe we have much to discuss.” He gestured in invitation towards the door leading further inwards into the depths of the mountain, his own steps already turning towards it as he continued. “Your timing is serendipitous, as it happens. Regarding your prior inquiry into the Cavalry Captain’s whereabouts, we have traced his path to what appears to be an ambush - the scene was cleaned impeccably, save for traces of elemental energy sourced from delusions. ”

“Fatui,” the former harbinger stated bluntly, settling gently onto the floor and stepping forward to follow in a single graceful movement. “You’re sure.”

Albedo nodded, the other’s barely audible footsteps following him further into the mountain. “As they are the only known faction that utilizes such weapons, yes. It was quite clear on closer examination of the scene - delusions, after all, leave distinct traces that differ from the elemental energy sourced from Celestia-based visions,” he explained, falling naturally into his usual lecturer’s tone, “though discerning them takes equipment and instrumentation that the average element wielder would not have access to.” He caught a sharp nod out of the corner of his eye, and continued. “For instance, the wavelength of the base pyro energy from a natural source has minor fluctuations in it, but this cannot be distinguished from the more even, regular waves of energy filtered through a vision by elemental sight alone. It is no surprise, then, that the artificial structure of the manufactured pyro energy from a delusion is also indistinguishable from the other two at first sight…”

Aether watched with something approaching amusement as his wayward wanderer finally slunk back into the house in the early hours of the morning, clearly trying to avoid attracting attention. That simply wouldn’t do, though; he’d stayed up waiting for him after all. The puppet was rather less bloody and disheveled than he had expected, after Ajax had told him he’d taken off with the body of the dead Dottore clone, but there was a guilt in the way he walked that told the traveler his initial guess hadn’t been too far off. So, instead he merely asked his question quietly from his seat at the foot of the stairs.

“How does it feel? Finally having your revenge?”

The startled near-trip this prompted, followed by a guiltily frozen pause, only made him smile fondly at the ridiculous man.

That, it seemed, was enough to reassure his skittish partner that he wasn’t in any real trouble for giving in to his darker impulses and vanishing for a good portion of the day. (Paimon had complained incessantly about how much it would have helped to have another pair of hands as they tried to put together a simple temporary shelter for their new guests, but had been distracted enough by the sheer amount of work involved that that had been the extent of it.)

Stiffly, awkwardly, Haru turned and made his way over to the traveler instead, eyes looking anywhere but at him, before sitting down on the floor at his feet and leaning back against the wall.

Aether waited patiently.

The man sighed, tipping his head back to stare blankly at the ceiling. After a moment, he admitted quietly, “It felt… kind of pointless, really. Like I was wasting my time. It’s already dead and disconnected - the bastard couldn’t even feel anything.”

The wanderer ran his hands through his hair in frustration, continuing, “I could’ve at least destroyed it in the forges like I wanted to but then I just had to think that maybe we could get something useful out of it first.”

Aether let out a mild hum of acknowledgement. “So what did you do, then?”

“...I ended up dumping the thing on Albedo instead. It’s still intact,” he hurried to assure the other man, “at least, mostly. I figure if nothing else, the alchemist might be able to track that stupid link he’s equipped them all with, so we can find a live one instead.”

“An appropriately undignified end for an unscrupulous man.”

“...I guess.”

There was silence for a moment, Aether content to wait for whatever Haru wanted to say next.

“It’s not like I don’t still hate the fucker,” he said eventually, gazing across the darkened hall with a thoughtful frown on his face. “I just… I don’t know, it felt like there were so many other things I could have been doing that would’ve been a better use of my time. Making swords. Training Paimon or Tonia. Even helping that ginger asshole with his other siblings.”

He paused, then added, softer, “Spending time with you.”

“Well,” the traveler said, sliding off the bottom step to sit next to the puppet. “I certainly wouldn’t object to that at all, whatever reason you have for it.”

“It’s almost like you like me or something,” the wanderer said with a hint of a sly smile. “I would never have guessed.”

“You’re imagining things,” the blonde retorted with a grin, playing up his reaction with a teasing shove. “I just want to make sure I have unlimited access to that chazuke you make.”

“Gasp!” The puppet said in feigned shock, matching his partner’s dramatics gesture for gesture. “Used only for my cooking, how shameless of you!”

The blonde’s grin widened. “You know what they say; the path to a man’s heart is through his stomach.”

“Personally, I prefer going through the ribcage,” Haru mused, splaying his hand out across Aether’s chest, letting the rhythm of his heartbeat thud against his palm like he so often did. “It’s shorter and more efficient.”

“Haru ,” Aether sighed, fond. “You say the most ridiculous things sometimes.”

“You love it,” the other man said with a flirtatious wink, leaning into the embrace. “Enough about me, though. Tell me about your day. Distract me.”

The traveler hummed quietly, hands coming up to rest against the other’s back in a loose grasp. “Well,” he began, “our latest guests all crashed once they felt safe enough to actually rest . Tonia’s been up and down the stairs a few times, bringing up plenty of water and some warm rice - easy on their stomachs, after barely eating for so long. But mostly, she’s just been staying with them - she was out cold herself last I checked, sprawled out on the bed with the rest of them in a little red-headed pile.”

“Paimon and I took the time to set up a bigger temporary shelter for them,” he continued, “but I doubt they’ll be staying with us for too long. For one thing, Childe - excuse me, Ajax - isn’t going to want to have to run all his extracurricular activities by us once he’s recovered enough to go out again, and for another, Zhongli .”

He added, after a moment simply enjoying the feeling of his lover’s body close against his own, “You might still have to contend with Tonia, though; I think she’s actually interested in what you’ve been teaching her, judging by the way she was telling her brothers all about it.”

“Just my luck,” the other man muttered, though contrary to his words he sounded oddly pleased by the information. “At least she’s not too much of a nuisance.” 

Aether smiled into the other man’s hair, knowing that meant he was actually looking forward to continuing their lessons. “We also got a message from Natlan, inviting us back for the Midsummer Festival and the coliseum tournament.”

“So the Fatui will be back out in force targeting the last gnosis they need.”

The traveler nodded. “From what you’ve said before, the winner of the tournament is granted a chance to spar with the Pyro Archon herself, giving them a clear shot at it if they win.”

“Which means,” Haru grumbled into his chest, “you’re of course going to go intervene and try to win the damn thing yourself.”

“Will you come to watch?” Aether asked, resting his head against Haru’s own. “Cheer me on from the stands?”

“No,” the puppet said with a snort. “I have better things to do than watch you flatten pathetic mortals with delusions of grandeur.”

“But what if I can’t win without that tiny extra bit of support from the audience?” he said, pulling back to offer the saddest puppy dog eyes he could muster. “What if I end up losing?”

“Then we’re going to need to reevaluate this relationship,” Haru said drily, eyes glinting with mirth, “because that’s just sad. I can’t possibly associate myself with a weakling like that, let alone bed them.”

“You wound me, Wanderer,” the traveler said with a mock gasp. “Straight for the heart, just like you said! Oh, now I’ll never be able to win,” he continued dramatically, lifting a hand to his forehead in feigned anguish, “whatever will I do without my one true love giving me strength?”

The puppet swatted him none-too-gently, face reddening at the slyly emphasized words. “You,” he hissed, “are impossible. You - you read too many romance novels .”

“Besides,” he hurried to add, when he saw Aether opening his mouth to continue their verbal spar, “I have other things to look into. You remember your old friend the Mondstadt Captain stopped replying to us directly a while back? Albedo had an update - not to be shared in writing. They found an ambush site, with delusion traces. If the Fatui took such pains to take one of the only living Khaenri’an survivors, after dropping Tartaglia, it has to have something to do with Project Delta. Some secret in his bloodline that he probably doesn’t even know about.”

The traveler stilled at this news. “The man is dangerous enough they’d have to have been planning this for a while.”

“It can’t have been spur of the moment,” Haru agreed, ocean-dark eyes stern as he pulled away. “While the alchemist is checking the feasibility of tracking Dottore via his segments, I need to try to track them down the old-fashioned way. Where he is, the Captain will be. One of us will be able to find them.”

He poked his lover in the chest, hard enough to bruise were he an ordinary mortal. “You, meanwhile, have to put up a good show out there for them. Delay them, distract them, and keep them from getting that last gnosis. Without that, there’s no rush to finish their research, which gives us time. So no , I can’t watch you crush Capitano and gloat from the stands.”  He paused briefly, then added in a quiet mutter, “...even if I would like to see the self-righteous old ghoul get his haunted ass handed to him.”

A low chuckle escaped Aether, watching the man hide his disgruntled disappointment in his shoulder. “Well, I’ll win slowly, how about that? If you’re quick enough, you can make it back for the grand finale with the First.”

“You’ll have to mow down the other contestants first,” Haru said, still firmly snuggled into his shoulder. “I should restore your blade to mint condition before I head out. Among other things,” the man added slyly, tracing a finger down the exposed skin of Aether’s collarbone, sparking a touch of heat in his stomach. “I’m sure I can spare a few moments for you,” he continued, tracing his fingers still further, watching the shuddering reaction with a smiling, smouldering gaze.

“Not on the floor of the main hall, Haru,” Aether got out through the growing hoarseness in his voice, pulling away despite himself. “Though I wouldn’t be opposed to continuing this in our room.”

“Oh, is it our room now?” the puppet said, rising to his feet with more haste than grace to follow. “What does that make my room then?”

“Still yours,” the traveler said with a grin, not looking back as his steps quickened. “It’ll never be anyone else’s.”

Morning found Kazeharu back at his forge, going over Aether’s weapon with a critical eye - examining the leather of the binding for cracks or wear, the starsteel alloy for warping or strain. It was quiet, calm, just the rustling of the grass and the trees in the soft breeze to keep him company in his nigh-meditative inspection.

At least, until the peaceful moment was shattered by a pair of footsteps approaching and a bright, too-cheerful voice addressing him too loudly.

“Comrade!” it said, chipper and cheery.

“No,” the puppet said, without even looking up.

The footsteps halted. “I didn’t even-”

“Absolutely not.” The declaration was met with a tiny giggle from their apparent audience.

There was a hint of a whine in the voice now. “I thought we were friends, comrade!”

“As if. I’m not fighting you, Tartaglia. ”

“Now there’s a great idea!” the ginger said with a snap of his fingers. “But actually, I’m here for something else right now, Scaramouche. ”

Kazeharu lifted his head at that, to meet the impish blue gaze of his former coworker - the provocation was clearly intentional. Fair enough, so was his. But it left a bitter taste in his mouth all the same, and he wasn’t eager to repeat the experience. 

“...you don’t call me that,” he said after a long pause, “and I won’t use your old title either.”

“Deal,” the other said, clapping his hands together sharply before he even finished the sentence. “Anyways… ”

“Fine, I’ll bite,” the wanderer said with a sigh. “If you aren’t here for a fight, then what did you actually want?”

That unleashed the floodgates, and he regretted asking as soon as the other’s face lit up with a slightly manic, bloodthirsty grin. “Well, I was thinking that if I’m missing an arm now, that just means I have the opportunity to get a better one! A sweet puppet arm like yours - maybe one with a gun inside, or that can turn into knives!”

“No. ”

“Or maybe-”

“Fuck no. ”

“Please don’t curse like that in front of my baby sister,” Ajax said, hands firmly cupped over her ears, while she only giggled again.

“And what if I do?” Kazeharu said challengingly, eyeing the other man over the edge of Aether’s sword. “You couldn’t ever beat me on a good day with both your arms, it’s not like you could stop me.”

“So we have fought before,” Ajax said, perking up and seizing on this latest tidbit of information. “I knew it! You’ve gotta let me have another go sometime, it’s just not fair that I can’t remember something that must have been so much fun.”

“I shouldn’t be surprised that that was what caught your attention, and yet here we are,” the puppet muttered with a roll of his eyes, turning back to the sword in his hands. “I’ve got more important things to do than entertain your aggressive tendencies, whale boy.”

“It’s not a whale, ” the taller red-head protested, offended. “It’s a narwhal. ”

“Whale, ” Kazeharu repeated, deliberately drawing the word out to a ridiculous length. “I’ve seen a narwhal before and that’s either a whale with a horn or your artistic skills are sh- awful.” He remembered to censor himself at the last second, though he suspected the girl had probably already heard worse.

“Big brother really isn’t the best at making pictures and things,” she chirped, her first contribution to the conversation other than amused giggles. “He always tries really hard though! ”

The man sighed, dramatically. “Everybody’s a critic, now, huh? It’s like you didn’t even miss me, printsessa .” 

“You should see the faces he draws on our syrniki in the mornings,” she whispered conspiratorially, hiding her grin behind her hands. “They’re terrible .”

“I believe it,” the wanderer said with a smirk. “I definitely believe it.”

“Okay, fine, yes, I’m not an artist. Can we get back to the topic of my getting a new arm already?” the ex-fatui huffed, clearly miffed that he was the butt of the joke. “Maybe while you’re at it you can throw in a big brother artist extraordinaire mode so I can draw better pancake pictures.”

“Unfortunately for you,” Kazeharu drawled, wiping an invisible speck of dust off of the blade, “I have no expertise whatsoever in making prostheses, so I’m not exactly sure why you’re coming to me about it anyway.” 

“Aren’t you basically just…” the girl started, stumbling over her words a little, “well, built out of moving pieces, like prosthetics are?”

He eyed his former colleague, who had the grace to look slightly guilty. Figured he had blabbed about his nature to the kids. Not that he’d really been hiding it from her in the first place, so he’d let it go for now. The puppet put up three of his fingers and began counting down on them, deadpan. “First of all, no, I’m not designed to interface with biological material, so it doesn’t work like that; second of all, I don’t know the details of how I was put together - hell, if I knew any of that I wouldn’t have had to be repaired by that lunatic any time something broke; and third, even if I did know how to repair myself that still wouldn’t equate to the knowledge to build a whole new part from scratch.”

He could see the girl mouthing ‘ that lunatic’ in puzzlement, but Tartaglia’s - Ajax, he reminded himself - mouth twisted into an understanding grimace, which was all that mattered.

“In other words, I’m wasting my time asking,” the man said with a frown. “Might as well get out of the way then, if you won’t even fight me, comrade.”

“No, wait,” the girl said with a horrified gasp. “You can’t just leave! You said you’d look at the knife I made, Jaxie! You promised . Pinky promised!”

“Right, right,” her brother said with a sheepish chuckle. “I did say that, didn’t I.”

“Where did you put it, Mister Niwa?” she all but demanded, rounding on the puppet again. “You said it was good enough to keep!”

“It’s in the top drawer,” he said, pointing to it with his chin. “Still doesn’t have a handle or a sheathe though, don’t cut yourself.” Definitely not while ‘big brother Jaxie’ is there to see, it’s not worth the uproar.

He managed to tune out her enthusiastic explanations and her brother’s tolerant, slightly amused responses while he put the finishing touches on Aether’s blade. It hadn’t been in that bad of shape - obviously not, one of his swords was far sturdier than any regular blade would be - but still, he felt satisfied that he’d taken the time to rewrap the handle’s leather and smooth out the tiny scratches it had gathered in its time out in the world. He gave it one last buff, examining it with a critical eye before determining that yes, there really wasn’t anything else he could do with it before handing it back over to Aether.

Speaking of, he could hear familiar, unhurried footsteps approaching down the path underneath the cheerful conversation taking place behind him, and he looked up to watch as the man in question ambled over, two smaller figures in tow. Both were clinging to him fiercely, having apparently latched on to him as the nearest thing to safety in the absence of their brother. By the mildly exasperated look on his face, they’d been making nuisances of themselves and he was looking to pass them off to their actual brother.

As it turned out, his guess was spot on - the traveler had tried distracting them by letting them help with breakfast, and while the food had narrowly been finished and plated unharmed, the kitchen was now an unmitigated disaster. Ajax shook his head and tsked at them, taking over without the slightest hesitation.

“Good little rybki always clean up after themselves,” he said with a bright sing-song lilt, only slightly off key, lifting both boys clean off their feet to swing from his arms with subdued yet still delighted gasps as he strode back towards the front of the mansion with Tonia in his wake. “Let’s go help Uncle Aether with those dishes, hmm?”

“I’m surprised you haven’t left yet,” said ‘uncle’ hummed with a curious tilt of his head after they were out of earshot. “You seemed quite vehement about it last night.”

“I also said I wanted to do maintenance on your sword before you have to fight the First,” the wanderer pointed out, brandishing the newly polished sword before him as evidence. “He’s gotten frailer, over the years, but he’s still the First Harbinger for a reason.”

Aether took the offered weapon gently, sheathing and dismissing it after a brief inspection. “I appreciate it, ♮◌⌑♮⭒,” he said softly, reaching out to give the puppet’s hands an affectionate squeeze.

Kazeharu scowled, adjusting his grip to squeeze back. “Don’t say that like it’s a final goodbye, you ass. Neither of us is going anywhere; you’ll be participating in a monitored tournament, and I’m just investigating things. It’s hardly worth getting worked up over.”

“In that case,” Aether said, a fond smile lighting up his face as he gave their hands another gentle squeeze, “how about I say see you later, instead.”

“Yeah,” he said, throat a little dry, despite his previous words. “Yeah, okay. See you later, little star.”

“See you later, love.”

Chapter Text

Paimon, for instance. It wasn’t like he’d grown fond of her or anything, but he couldn’t deny a certain sense of satisfaction seeing her master the techniques he had taught her, and oh, how he wanted to be there for that first glorious day when she wiped the smirk off an opponent's face and crushed that overconfidence beneath her tiny booted heel. He couldn’t wait.

It started with a rousing, ringing cry in ancient Natlani, a throaty, echoing call to prayer that broke the stillness of the morning just as the first sliver of the sun slipped past the horizon.

As it ended, it was immediately answered by the chanting of many voices and the swirling movement of the warriors-turned-performers now permitted to begin their pilgrimage through the city streets and sandstone halls to the heart of the city, the Stadium of the Sacred Flame where the reigning Pyro Archon would oversee their valiant offerings of single combat war-worship. The wail of a flute took up the call, and the low blare of a warhorn heralded the heavy movement of the rolling platforms of musicians and drummers, spinning the drumsticks in their hands with flourishes nearly as calculated and magnificent as the warriors themselves. The strident, insistent drumbeat was echoed by the stamp and thud of many feet and paws in unison, powerful enough to be felt under the soles of the spectators gathered to view the ceremonial midsummer procession, led by the triumphant winners of the winter war games and followed in turn by the other, now subordinate tribes.

The marchers swept past the watchers in a colorful display of bright feathers and burnished scales, of fluttering silks and deadly blades flashing in the newborn summer sun. The rhythmic stomp and clap of hands grew ever more insistent as the triumphant music swelled, an intricate and well-rehearsed dance of mock battle, saurians and humans circling and dodging each other in a martial display of skill to put even some real battles to shame.

It’s a pity, Aether thought, watching from his perch high on the stadium itself, that I couldn’t learn the dance in time to join them. But as thrilling as it would have been to march with the other competitors, he couldn’t justify the risk of injury due to his unfamiliarity with the movements, not when he needed to win the actual tournament. There were only limited positions available in the procession itself as it was, and he was not the only foreigner sitting out the parade; even many of the native Natlani had declined to participate for various reasons. Likely, many of the marchers below expected this to be their only significant contribution to the Midsummer Festival, knowing their skills weren’t up to the bar required to advance further than the preliminary matches, so he didn’t begrudge them their hard-won positions in the opening ceremony.

It was a stirring, striking sight, one he was glad to have witnessed, that he would tuck carefully away in his memories with the glorious Lantern Rites of Liyue, and the Sabzeruz and Irodori Festivals and all the other celebrations of Teyvat. 

The procession and all its displays rumbled through the maze of the city as the sun rose higher; the vehicles themselves peeled away one by one to circle the stadium outside with their attendant musicians, while those on foot carried the intricately carved symbol of their archon’s favor into the central arena to present it back to the archon in question. She held it high in display as she proclaimed the opening of the tournament, and for a brief moment Aether thought that this might be the moment; that the Fatui would forgo all pretense of participation and simply go for the throat right then and there.

But the moment passed, and Aether stood along with the other contestants to file down into the stands to watch as the matches began in earnest. He would not be fighting for some time, but at the very least he could study his potential opponents in their own matches.

By the time the final placement match was drawing to its conclusion, the sky had once again slipped back into the gentle colors of the in between hours, the clouds above and the sacred fire’s smoke drifting from below both streaked with deep golds and twilight purples. The outcome was all but decided, at this point - the match that had just finished had been the fierce battle to claim the rank of third. The only match remaining, then, was for the honor of the champion’s crown, and it would go to one of the two men facing each other across the arena now.

The harbinger had, as expected, defeated his opponents handily - not even drawing upon his Vision - in a purely martial display of skill that could (and did) put lesser warriors to shame. Aether could understand why Ajax wanted to fight the man so badly, now - the other man had wanted to at least watch the tournament but had relented upon being reminded that for one he was technically on the run now, and for two, his siblings had to be watched. That hadn’t stopped him from grumbling about it at every opportunity, though, finally culminating in a request for the traveler to at least give him a detailed play-by-play of the final match afterward.

Hence, his strict attention to the words being addressed to him from the other side of the circle.

“It is an honor to meet you, Traveler from the True Sky,” the harbinger said, with a salute of his sword and a respectful nod. “Your Twin did great service to our nation in Her time - it will be a worthy battle that we fight, here, though I must warn you I will not temper my blows even for Her sake.”

Aether could hear the capitalization on the pronouns. She’d always hated being worshiped - they both had.

He wondered how much she had changed, to have permitted it.

He forced the uncomfortable thought down and back, away from the now that he needed to pay attention to and the words being spoken by the archon above. He would have remembered them regardless, but to remember the exact inflection of her words, the expressions and gestures, he needed to focus. He’d promised. Pinky and all.

“Good luck,” Paimon nearly squeaked into his ear as Mavuika rang the starter bell, disappearing in a glimmering shower of constellations without waiting for a reply.

A good thing, too, because both men had charged directly at each other before the echo of the bell even faded. The traveler immediately had to twist out of the way of a powerful backhanded swing from Capitano, aborting his own initial attack in favor of dodging. They traded blows like that for a few moments, feeling each other out, each strike heavy enough to send a jolt through Aether’s arms when he blocked. 

That, he decided quickly, was not going to work for him, not in this fight. The sheer weight of his foe meant there was enough force in his attacks to shatter bone if the blonde wasn’t careful. He would need to deflect, to dodge, to use his lighter weight as an advantage instead. He took a page from Xiao’s book then, imbuing his steps with anemo and leaping into the air with a grace not his own to rain blows on his foe.

Ice rose up in answer to ward him off, and secretly Aether was relieved that he was at least skilled enough to merit the use of the harbinger’s own powers. 

It became a dance, with him leaping lightly from each tumbling icy projectile to the next, spinning to send slicing gusts of his own in the gaps between. He couldn’t see past the dark mask on the man’s face, but he could still feel the eyes behind it tracking him, cataloging every move and calculating responses. Distantly, he noted the shimmering barrier protecting the stadium’s seating from damage had been activated, and realized that yes, their fight had taken them that close to the edges of the arena, strange twisting ice sculptures liberally scattered across the floor and glistening under the sole remaining light of the roaring sacred flames. 

Anemo would not be enough by itself, Aether realized, as the fight dragged on. It was his first element, his most familiar and comfortable power, and he was only just matching Capitano’s attacks. If the harbinger had any more tricks up his sleeve, it was quite possible he’d be overpowered. The traveler had never publicly confirmed that he could use multiple elements, not to anyone he didn’t trust - most enemies didn’t merit the use of such techniques. But this was such a public match that any hope of ever concealing that ability would be lost as soon as he used even the slightest hint of another.

Then again, the Fatui had already added that to his dossier after his initial battle with Ch - the former eleventh. Did it really matter if everyone else knew?

Time to up the ante, then.

He sliced one icy projectile in half, catching the next right behind with the strange dimensional powers he’d watched the night wind saurians use and turning it right back against its master. A pointless move really, as it was brushed aside and returned to icy dust with hardly even a flick of the harbinger’s hand. But that was only a distraction, to hold his opponents attention while he summoned electro and dendro, the familiar sparks coalescing into the glittering halo of the Inazuman archon behind him and vines of light twisting out to mark his opponent. As he shifted seamlessly into the strong and sturdy stride of the former geo archon and called forth the man’s terrifying meteor from the skies, he could see the tiny, appreciative nod the Captain gave him, sword flicking up in a silent salute before continuing its sweep to cut the massive rock in half. 

Aether tried to tune out the incredulous crowd in the stands as the halves of the rock shook the floor to either side of them, focusing on dodging the ice pillars rising up under his feet. Just as well, since only a moment later the pale blue glow of the Captain’s attacks deepened, and the next cut that whistled past Aether’s dodging form trailed hydro droplets in addition to the creeping frost that clung to his sword. Clearly, the man had concluded that if Aether was going all out, so should he. Still resonating with geo, the traveler jumped backwards, calling up stately onyx pillars of his own amidst the ice.

Those earth-shaking sword blows would be brutal against a frozen form, Aether realized as he dodged again, the delusion a fitting complement to the native cryo the harbinger used so easily. Perhaps the spectators wouldn’t be able to spot the minute addition of hydro among the more obvious icy constructs, but down in the midst of the fight it was a very real threat - hard to spot, and nigh impossible not to swirl expansively with any casual use of his anemo. His shield would protect him so long as it could recrystallize from the elemental reactions around them, but that would be little help if he should be unable to move. 

Pyro flickered to life at his fingertips, vaporizing the nearby water in clouds of boiling, burning steam as he let go of dendro in favor of drying out the battlefield. The superheated air hurt, but it was preferable to shattering into tiny chunks of frozen traveler. Fitting that he should use the firey element in its own nation, he supposed, twisting out of the way of another slicing attack and its trailing sleet.

As they spun around each other with impossibly fast blows, it became clear that even with Aether’s multi-element advantage, he was still only just a match for his opponent. The man was ranked first among the harbingers for good reason, it seemed - and the longer the fight drew on, the more Aether could feel his muscles complaining under the strain. 

Just a little longer, he thought to himself. Just a little longer, until he’d summoned enough pillars - until he’d be able to surround the silent harbinger with resonant stone…

There.

The last pillar he needed slammed into place and a domed shield flickered into life between the stones, effectively trapping the Captain within their grasp. 

A beat, as the man summoned ice to batter the shield imprisoning him.

Another.

And then the pillars glowed in unison, a wave of geo pulsing out from each of them and resonating together until the sheer force of the vibrations meeting in the center of the makeshift circle pulverized the Captain’s icy sword and all his constructs, knocking him to his knees and cracking the steel of his helmet. The staggering harbinger was unwilling to yield even after that, planting a foot and rising to one knee as though to get up again. 

Another bone-shaking pulse of geo forced him back to the ground, and this time, the man signaled defeat, relinquishing his one chance at the Pyro gnosis.

Even as the bell rang to signal the end of the match, even as the enthusiastic roar of the crowd slowly filtered back into his awareness and Aether dismissed his pillars, the traveler didn’t relax. People had called Capitano honorable, but he was still Fatui, and Fatui were always unpredictable. Indeed, as Mavuika joined them in the center of the arena to make her triumphant speech and Paimon spun back into existence at his side, he spotted the man’s head turning to watch the slow footsteps of an approaching woman, who should not have been inside the arena with them.

“Are you done, then?” the unfamiliar woman asked the harbinger, interrupting the archon’s speech and ignoring the others standing nearby. “Have you satisfied your sense of honor so that we can move on to the important things, like the mission?”

“Arlecchino,” the Captain said, dispelling any doubts about her identity. “This is not the time, Knave.”

“I disagree,” she said with a slow blink of her unsettling red crossed eyes. “This is exactly the time, Captain. Our target is in the open, unarmed, and this tournament has now finished, thus we are no longer bound by its rules.”

“You do realize I am standing right here, you know,” Mavuika said with an unamused drawl, hands on her hips. “If you’re planning to attack me you’ve lost all element of surprise.”

“I don’t need it,” the Knave said from behind the other woman, the afterimage at her former position vanishing as she thrust one clawed hand directly into the Pyro archon’s back, eerily reminiscent of the attack in Fontaine.

There hadn’t even been time for Paimon to scream in the split second it had taken.

But then the cold indifference on the woman’s face softened into puzzlement, and when her hand emerged, empty, they all realized why.

Mavuika spread her arms wide with a casual shrug, seemingly unphased by the underhanded attack. “Surprise!”

Capitano sighed, raising a hand to his face in - embarrassment, perhaps? 

“I will not be part of this,” he informed them shortly. “My defeat was well fought and well-earned. Traveler - may we meet again in more pleasant circumstances. Arlecchino,” he turned, addressing his coworker, “try not to tarnish her Majesty’s good name any further if you insist on continuing this farce.”

With that, he turned, booted heels clicking against the stone as he marched out of the arena.

The silent tableau held for a little longer, before the Archon turned to the Knave, sweeping her fiery hair out of the way to address her. 

“In case you were wondering,” she said, “no, I don’t keep the thing on me. Haven’t for centuries. Neither did my predecessors. It’s honestly more trouble than it’s worth.”

“Then where. Is. It?”

“Couldn’t say,” their host said with a little shrug, folding her arms. “You’d want to ask the Archon that got rid of it in the first place.”

“Anyway!” she said, clapping her hands together and ignoring the stymied, frustrated harbinger, as well as the restless crowd muttering unhappily above them, still held back by the shields. “As the victor, Traveler, you’ve earned this!” The intricately carved form of the Archon’s favor appeared above her hands, and she passed it to Aether with a showy flair and a wink.

“Take good care of it now,” she said, with another wink. “We’ll need it back for the winter war games, so if you break it, make sure you put it back together!”

Aether wondered if he was the only one who noticed the very, very slight emphasis on ‘break it.’ He didn’t dare look over at Arlecchino to see what her expression was as she watched.

He made the proper responses, accepted the crowd’s cheering and congratulations as they were finally allowed down into the arena proper (the Knave, on seeing the shields drop, had elected to retreat rather than risk their ire), and at last shook hands with the Pyro Archon one final time.

Then, finally, he could retreat himself, back to the safe space of his teapot to investigate the favor further.

It was silent and empty in the house, the match having gone into the late hours of the night, with no former harbingers or their relatives lingering in its halls. So, he put a sleepy, yawning Paimon to bed in her own little nest of blankets and cushions, and closed the door to begin his own investigation.

‘Break it,’ huh? 

He pondered the meaning of the words as he examined the carved faces of the trinket in his hands carefully for hidden secrets.  He didn’t want to actually break the thing. Judging by the way Mavuika had said to put it back together, it was probably designed to come apart. And sure enough, after a tedious, agonizingly slow hour, he felt a click beneath his hands and the panels slid open to let the pyro gnosis, along with a tightly wrapped thin scroll of paper, roll out onto the kitchen table.

He read the note first.

Traveler - I’m hoping it’s you reading this and not the Fatui. You may have heard that the gnosi have great powers, and they do, but as you may have also heard, they carry a dying curse. My predecessors designed this ‘favor’ a long, long time ago, to shield the gnosis, to block it from being used or sensed, or from cursing those who carried it. Still, just in case, no one wanted to leave it in one person’s hands for too long, and so the rotating ownership of the favor, passed between the tribes, came into being. It’s a secret that only we pyro archons know the full truth of, passed down to each of our successors.

And now, I’m passing it to you. I think you’ll understand why.  It belongs with you far more than it does with any of us.

-Mavuika

He wasn’t sure he wanted to know what she meant. 

But as soon as his fingers touched the gnosis, he knew. 

He knew.

A sick, twisting feeling settled in his stomach at the confirmation he’d been dreading. This power was familiar. Too familiar, and his breath seized.

These were bones. His sister’s bones. 

Carved, and twisted, and forged into conduits for power.

As he was the Fourth Descender, so had his sister been the Third, by simple virtue of waking first. Woke and fought and lost, to the Heavenly Principles and the Sustainer of their iron-clad rules.

Lost, long before Khaenri’ah ever dreamed of Khemia.