Chapter Text
Mistakes were made, but Ayato learned something new from them, so it didn’t matter.
For one, Thoma can eat anything.
Ayato wanted to test if the dango incident was a one time thing or not, so he periodically gave the cooks any obscure ingredient—from stones, wood, meat, insects, and plants—and asked them to do what they could to make it edible. He received strange looks at first, but Ayato countered all suspicions with a pleasant smile. He’d even ventured as far as seeking out goods from Mondstadt and Liyue, a feat considering the Sakoku decree (for no matter how devious Kujou Takayuki was, there is no touching a god’s laws), giving the cooks a rare sample of foreign and exotic ingredients. If anything, he knew that they secretly enjoyed the creative challenge.
And the results? A 100% success rate. It didn’t matter if he told Thoma what the meal was made of or not—he always cleaned the plate. Ayato could not resist ruffling the other’s hair for doing such a good job. The blush on the other’s cheeks was an additional bonus. Although Thoma finished the lizard tail soup a lot more slowly, that was mostly because of the lack of seasoning, so Ayato did not count it as a loss.
(The cook in charge of that meal has not shown up in the kitchen since Ayato laid down all his criticisms a month ago. His words were scalding when need be.)
For two, Thoma is too charming for his own good.
Case 1, out of many versions, is Arataki Itto.
Ayato overheard the tale from the oni himself. He does not know which statements were true or made up from the other’s ego, but he does know that the ridiculously obvious infatuation Itto had for his friend was genuine.
“I met the love of my life yesterday,” Itto loudly declared. Seeing as he was right by the large tree in Hanamizaka, a very busy public space, you’d think that he’d be told to keep it down. None of the citizens had the heart to tell him off, however, mainly due to the five children with him who cheered their congratulations.
“No way!”
“I don’t believe it. All you do is play with bugs all day!”
“I want to fall in love too.”
“Tell us more, Itto! Is she as pretty as a princess?”
“Woah, woah, woah. Settle down, little people. I know it’s hard to believe, but the moment I saw him—” the kids gasped “—I just knew he was the one.”
Ayato assumed that the oni was simply indulging the five with a made-up story at first, but the hint that the secret someone was a man somehow made things more serious. He sat on one of the nearby benches, pulling out milk tea from his sleeves and hoping that his eavesdropping didn’t look too obvious. His father would forgive him for spending a few more minutes on his break.
Itto brought one hand up to his ear, urging his audience to make a racket. “First, who am I?!”
“The one and oni Itto!” The children chorused.
“Exactly! I’m always on the lookout for the strongest, mightiest, and toughest battles. And one of my worst opponents has to be alcohol.” The kids gasped at the very adult word, their respect for Itto increasing tenfold. “I drank for hours, not stopping even when my pockets thinned. I knew I was fighting a losing battle, but I never admit defeat! So I got up to walk to the bar for another round. Alas, the whole world started spinning and spinning until everything went black.”
Itto paused for dramatic effect. Ayato gives him credit for his compelling storytelling.
“One moment, I was falling.” Itto flopped down on the grass, bringing the back of his hand to his forehead like a damsel in distress. Child-like giggles accompanied his theatrics. “And the next, I woke up to him.”
One of the kids, a boy with a bowl cut, raised his hand. “Who is he, Uncle Itto?”
At this, the young lord leaned forward on his seat.
“I’ll get to that part later,” the oni waved off.
Looks like I’ll be here for more than just a few minutes, Ayato mused. He’s reluctant to leave without reassurance that the secret man isn’t Thoma, no matter how unlikely. However, his friend did talk about handling a disturbance in the city yesterday. Not much details were given, but he also mentioned a half-naked drunkard with horns…
Hm. Ayato analyzed Itto’s appearance. More likely than I thought.
To rub salt on the wound, Itto continued. “I was more comfortable than I usually am when I pass out, and that’s because I was laying down on his lap. I don't know about you, but that’s a pretty big deal, am I right?”
The kids eagerly nodded in agreement. Ayato’s eyebrow twitched.
“My vision was blurry, so I was still out of sorts when I reached for the blurb of my savior’s figure with my hands.” Itto stretched his arms out to the sky from his position on the ground, trying to recreate the moment. “I started from his neck, cheeks, and ears.” His hands drew an imaginary outline. “Then to his nose, mouth, eyelashes, and—get this—his horns. They were so cute! A fellow oni, can you believe it?! I haven’t seen one in years!”
While his small audience oohed and aahed, Ayato confirmed his suspicions. It left an unpleasant feeling in his stomach, and it was one his milk tea can’t fix.
“My horns are impressive for most oni my age, so it’s not like I have high expectations.” Itto puffed his chest out. He used his thumb and index finger to show the size of the other “oni’s” horns compared to his. “But they were sooooo small and adorable. He’d have to be weaker than me! No problemo, I am the strongest, after all.”
“Is he my age?” A girl with a high ponytail asked.
The oni sat up. “No, uh, that would be weird.” He made a strange face. “You guys would tell me if anyone approached you weirdly, right? Especially if they’re taller, older, and smellier? I really hope it doesn’t get to that point, but tell me a-s-a-p. Copy?”
“Yes, Uncle Itto,” the kids groaned, not expecting the reprimand.
“Hey, hey, hey! This is serious business. Some people just give you all the heebie jeebies.”
Ayato was very much on edge, so even if it wasn’t, that felt like a personal jab. You give me heebie jeebies, he revolted silently.
“Anyway, I tried to stay up for as long as I could, which wasn’t long. I remember someone carrying me by the shoulders, and when I blinked, it was already the next day and I was already in bed at home.” Itto sighed exaggeratedly. “I couldn’t even thank him! Granny Oni talked to him for a bit though. And you know what she said?” The kids shook their heads.
Itto hunched his back and did his best impersonation of Granny Oni’s voice, “That young man would make a fine husband.”
Several people awwwed to Ayato’s left. He was startled to see Tenryou Commission guards and a few passersbys grouped together to hear Itto’s story. The noise apparently caught the attention of everyone within the vicinity, and they were all as invested as Ayato, much to his irritation.
One particularly bold woman spoke up, “So who is he?”
“Halt, adult!” Itto stiffened and faced his palm towards the direction of the voice. “This is my story, so don’t interrupt my flow unless you’re one of the kids. If you introduce yourself by name, status, and strongest skill, I might reconsider. Oh, and call me boss while you’re at it.”
The woman stepped up from behind the crowd. Ayato glanced at her, then did a double take as he recognized the familiar face. “Yoimiya, boss!” Her hands went up in a salute. “Owner of Naganohara Fireworks! You could say I’m the best at fireworks, boss!”
“It’s Yoimiya!” The children exclaimed at the same time. They all started running towards her direction, immediately losing interest at the thought of explosions.
“We missed you so much!”
“Can we please set off fireworks? Please, please, please.”
“Uh, little peeps?” Itto stood in confusion. He lost his audience too fast for his comprehension. “What about the story?” He was ignored.
“C’mon, Yoimiya!”
“I want the red one that bursts into flowers!”
“Woah! I know you’re all excited but don’t leave your boss hanging.” Yoimiya was as cheerful as ever. As one of Ayaka’s friends (and Thoma’s, to a lesser extent), Ayato knew that she had an affinity with all kinds of people. He sipped on the last remnants of his milk tea, which was a sign everything was almost over. “C’mon, boss. Do something!”
“It’s alright.” Itto’s voice lost its powerful quality. His head was bowed down in a clear show of gloom. “You can all go ahead. I’ll just. Go back home. Yeah.”
Ayato felt smug.
“Let’s go, Yoimiya!"
“Bye, Uncle Itto!”
The five children grabbed on to Yoimiya’s arms and clothes, giggling and dragging her away.
“Slow down! Jeez, kids are a lot more energetic than usual.” Her voice faded away with the distance. “I’ll make it up to you, boss!”
Itto slumped further, already walking away. He kept glancing back as if waiting for someone to stop him, but no one did.
Kids are ruthless. Ayato would feel a lot more sympathetic if it weren’t for the situation. It was not as dire as he expected it to be, with Itto being delirious and unable to recognize his self-proclaimed lover. The young lord highly suspected that the oni didn’t even know Thoma’s name. If the oni did, he wouldn’t have shrugged off all questions about it, so now Ayato’s job is much easier.
“Alright, get a move on! Nothing to see here.” The guards seemed to remember their purpose as they dispersed the crowd that got larger since the last time Ayato saw it. It would’ve been troublesome, indeed, if Itto blurted out Thoma’s name for all of them to hear. Gossip was terrifying; it would force the two to interact under romantic pretenses, and Ayato had no plans for them to do so.
Ayato stood from the bench and brushed off the dust on his clothes. Thankfully, the solution was laughably easy, so he wasn’t in a hurry at all.
(He was an hour late to the monthly clan head meeting. With a lack of a valid excuse, his father punished him with a month worth of IOUs.)
“You called, my lord?”
“Sit, Thoma. Play shogi with me.”
Thoma sighed, used to the young lord’s antics. “You know I always lose, my lord. I doubt I am a better opponent today than I was yesterday.”
“Losing does not make you any less interesting to play with.” Ayato looked at Thoma in consideration. He patted the cushion next to his. “Sit beside me, then. I have something to test.”
“But lunch was just a while ago, my lord,” Thoma said as he shuffled over, lowering his knees on to the zabuton.
Ayato turned his body to face the other. “Are you that eager for a treat?” Leather met skin as he brought the palms of his hands to Thoma’s neck. Having the advantage of training since he could stand on his two feet, Ayato knew that he outclassed Thoma in strength. Irrationally, he thought of how easy he could squeeze the other’s neck until his last breath—how Thoma trusted him enough not to do it.
Said man grinned from ear to ear. “I’m not sure if I have the stomach for it.”
Ayato chuckled, shifting the weight of his grip. “Hush, now. It’s nothing you’re supposed to eat, just don’t disturb me.” He should have taken off his gloves for this, but he won’t stop now.
I started from his neck, cheeks, and ears. The path to each destination was natural and the same, but unlike the oni, Ayato’s touch wasn’t drunken or imaginary.
Then to his nose, mouth, eyelashes. With his palms to cheeks, his fingers ran through each individual lash. Thoma’s eyes fluttered shut. How unlucky of Itto to not see such a sight.
And—get this—his horns. They were so cute! He slid further up and paused at Thoma’s black headband, a gift bought by the young lord himself. When he made Thoma try it on as they were browsing through stores in front of the Outlander Affairs Agency, he knew it would cause problems with his heart for how cute his friend looked. If Ayato knew it would cause this much trouble with other people, he would have gotten Thoma something more discreet.
Slowly, Ayato tucked his fingers under the headband and took it off, tucking it in his sleeve pockets. He nodded to himself, satisfied. His friend had only been wearing it for a few months, so it wasn’t that big of a change.
Thoma's eyes opened in puzzlement. “My lord?”
“I’ll get you a different one,” Ayato reassured. He squished Thoma’s face together, making him look like a fish. “You would tell me if someone taller, older, and smellier approached you weirdly, right?”
“Yesh, mi lowd,” Thoma tried to say through his smushed lips. Ayato wanted to bully him more.
What else did Itto say? Ayato racked his head in thought. One of Itto’s lines involved Granny Oni, which made the listeners swoon, so he immediately took note of it. There was Yoimiya, and before that was… ah, yes, it was— “You’d make a fine husband one day.”
Thoma practically burst into flames.
Ayato was loath to admit that his plan wasn’t foolproof.
Ask anyone about their thoughts of foreigners, and their answers were mostly the same: cautious and uncertain. These were the consequences of being closed off for as long as they could remember. Despite this, there was a general consensus that Thoma was an exception to the rule. Though any local could tell he wasn’t from Inazuma at first glance, he is family as much as the Raiden Shogun is their Archon, which meant that Thoma knew everyone.
Including Arataki Itto, who still fell in love, even without the horns.
It happened without Ayato’s knowledge. He was busy, more so than before. The shogun is still missing, Kujou Takayuki grows more devious with time, and to make things worse, the Spring Festival is next month. It was all too much for the young lord. He could not imagine what it was like for his father.
“It is nothing I am not used to, Ayato,” his father's voice was strong and unmoving. It never failed to make Ayato sigh in relief. “Let your old man be. You should be enjoying your youth.”
His father would never admit how much of a burden Ayato lifts off his shoulders. It was never his choice to let his son practice being a clan head this young; he never wanted Ayato to carry any of the weight. Ayato knew all that, but he still chose to act—to take up the mantle, for there was no one more fit for it than he.
“What else is there to youth than spending time with my dear father?” Ayato replied, crossing off a line from the document he was scanning.
“You’ve grown into such a smooth talker,” his father smiled cheekily. “I wonder who you’re practicing on?”
That earned his father a shove on the shoulder.
“Well, Ayaka will be at Komore Teahouse tonight. She’ll need company.” After a moment of consideration, his father continued, “Thoma will be there too.”
Ayato did not protest.
They still saw each other daily, the young lord and his friend, but it was nothing more than an incense stick of time. Ayato told himself that it was temporary—a necessary sacrifice so he could move more freely after things have settled down—but he still ached for Thoma’s company. Dinner and the walk back home meant more than an incense stick, perhaps he could invite himself over to Thoma’s place too, so Ayato headed over with a pep in his step.
Imagine his surprise to see someone else in his usual seat between Thoma and Ayaka.
“Itto, now isn’t the right time,” Ayato heard Thoma reprimand as soon as he stepped in.
Said oni had his chin resting on his palm, elbow to the counter and other hand akimbo. His back faced Ayaka, who was observing quietly despite the rude gesture. “My bro, it’s always the right time! You just have to meet the gang for a quick second. Pretty please?” At this, Itto used a disgustingly cutesy voice. “You promised! C'monnn.”
“Another day, Itto! I have dinner scheduled tonight. I’ll make sure of it tomorrow.”
Ayato was slightly out of his element to see two people he didn’t want to meet in one place, as well as the implication that this isn’t their first meeting.
“Brother,” Ayaka greeted.
“Ayaka,” he smiled at her both in greeting and apology. He had a disturbance to deal with, after all. “I see the food has already arrived.”
“My lord!” Thoma exclaimed.
Meanwhile, Itto glared. Ayato defended with a smile.
“Is this what’s got you busy?” Itto said.
Thoma scolded him with a “Hey! That wasn't nice.”
The oni was unapologetic. He did not bother to hide the fact that he was sizing Ayato up. Irritatingly, he made his verdict known with a scoff and an arrogant grin. “I’m Arataki ‘Numero Uno’ Itto, also known as the sumo king, the strongest, the man, the undefeated, the beetle gladiator—”
“Kamisato Ayato,” he cut off.
Itto seemed to take Ayato’s lack of other titles as a win, but Ayato did not care. He had loads of trump cards.
“I’m tired and starving,” the young lord groaned as he approached Thoma, hugging the other from behind and burrowing his face into Thoma’s shoulder. He usually kept it subtle when trying to fend off Thoma’s suitors, but the oni would need a clearer hint.
Thoma did not disappoint. “That cannot do, my lord! Have you not been eating properly? I made you lunch earlier, don’t tell me you didn’t eat it.”
“I did. Thank you, Thoma.” Ayato tilted his head just so. It would look like he’s giving Thoma a kiss on the neck from Itto’s angle.
True enough, he saw Itto’s jaw drop.
“Then you better eat more than one plate tonight, my lord. I’ll make sure to serve you later.”
Service for Thoma meant preparing his bath, clothes, and bed. But predictably, Itto was thinking of something else. Ayato resisted the urge to laugh maniacally.
Ayaka was immune to the display—she was already halfway through her meal.
“Well!” Itto started, but he was at a loss of what to say. He stiffly walked towards the exit. “It was nice meeting you all. I'd just like to tell everyone here that I am not a homewrecker! Pleasedontkillmebye!” The door slammed shut with a bang.
“Huh,” Thoma said as his brows furrowed. “A homewrecker?”
Thoma's suitors will increase, there is no doubt about it.
Ayato would have to think of much more rigorous plans.
After that night, Ayato's plans turned into dust.
Because after that night, Ayato’s mother died.
It was sudden. Not for his father, who knew of her illness for a long time coming. He explained that it was untreatable, and their mother did not want them grieving her loss before she even passed, so Ayato and Ayaka were left in the dark. Knowing his father, he would have exhausted all options regardless. He would have scoured Teyvat for a cure; for when the Kamisato family loved, they did it to the extreme.
“Your mother loved you both,” his father said before he told them of the news. Both siblings were wrapped in a tight embrace. “She loved you both so much.”
It is because of this love that his father died three days after. A week before the spring festival, Furuta found him collapsed on piles of papers, his heart missing its beat. There was no explanation for it, but both he and Ayaka always believed it was of a broken heart.
Ayato stared at a picture of all four of them taken months before. He did not shed a tear at his father’s deathbed. He thought it was a mercy that Ayaka would never see their father lose himself, unable to cope with his wife’s death. Their father knew that he wouldn’t last long either, for long after his passing, Ayato did not need to act as the clan head right away. Several contingency plans were left in place, leaving him free of duties for two weeks. Perhaps this was his father’s last wish—to let him enjoy his youth as much as possible.
How could I? Ayato thought. Furuta disapproved of his actions to keep working, but no one could stop his stubborn streak.
It was a quiet morning when he received his vision. It felt like it came from the hands of his father himself, telling him that he was grown up now—that he could finally go out without supervision. It was the first time since his father’s death that Ayato nearly smiled.
Ayaka took up Thoma’s time the most, and he did not mind. She needed his friend more, and even when Thoma made the effort to see him everyday, Ayato never seemed anything out of the ordinary; he could not help someone who did not want to be helped. Besides, him being there for Ayaka, when Ayato could not, was already a comfort in itself.
A week went by just like that, and it was time for the Spring Festival.
He supervised everything behind the scenes. The public did not know of his parent’s death just yet—it was too gloomy of an announcement for a festival as lively as this—so he had to dismiss a lot of questions. Sometimes he’d catch a glimpse of Thoma dragging his sister around the food stalls and mini games. Ayato was sure that the small smile on Ayaka’s face was not a trick of light.
As the festival reached its final hour, Ayato walked back home alone. They used to watch the fireworks together as a family at the estate, far from the festivities. Ayato could not let go of the tradition yet.
And there Ayaka was, sitting on the engawa facing Inazuma City.
Beside her was Thoma. She was crying quietly, leaning on his shoulder while his hands caressed her hair in comfort.
Ayato could not bring himself to speak words of support. He was just as nostalgic and miserable.
“My lord,” Thoma called, opening his available arm in invitation. “You are late to the celebration. The fireworks have already started.”
He settled next to Thoma, resting his head on the other’s lap as their hands intertwined. Oh did Ayato miss it: the normalities of life, the warmth of someone’s embrace, the banter of his father, and the voice of his mother. He knew he wasn’t coping as well as he thought and seemed. But like this, with the people he loved by his side, he felt at peace.
“Everything will be alright,” Thoma’s voice was barely a whisper. “I’ll make sure of that.”
He loved Thoma even more.
(None of the three noticed the pyro vision that appeared on Thoma’s belt. Moments after Thoma made a promise in his mind to serve the family for life.)