Chapter Text
Xiu Ya is loyal. Anything forged from the heart of Shen Jiu must be.
To Shen Jiu, she was a tool. To a man so jaded, nothing alive could ever be truly trusted. Not even something that was once him.
Shen Yuan is different. She knows immediately, of course, when he fills in the space left empty behind her master's eyes, within his meridians. To a tool like her, such things are obvious.
To Shen Yuan, she is more than a tool.
To a man out of time, out of space, out of allies, the cool presence pressing curiously at his mind is a welcome ally, even, perhaps, a friend. She cannot tell his secrets, so why should he hide them from her?
The moment he is alone he introduces himself, pressing gentle fingertips to the sharkskin on her hilt, feeling her hum a greeting and lighting up in delight like her Jiu'er never did.
He is careful and attentive like a fresh disciple, talking to her, polishing her, spoiling her with frequent oilings and even the occasional tea baths when she asks and he has the time.
He cuts himself once on her edge, when he first arrives, and apologizes, of all things, for dirtying her, as if she has not tasted the blood of beasts much fouler than anything he could possibly inflict on his own.
It's charming, and she soon finds herself much more affectionate to him than she ever was to Shen Jiu.
She expects the good treatment to disappear as he becomes busy or bored of her - they always do, eventually - but he never does, making a point to do whatever she likes or needs at least once weekly, talking to her silently whenever the mood strikes with a finger to her hilt or the brush of a wrist as he walks.
.
Like her first wielder, she is a little petty, a touch jealous. It is one of her very few flaws.
It takes her time to warm up to her master's pet disciple, a tiny, fluffy boy named for a frozen river. Shen Jiu's dislike and Shen Yuan's worries for the future color her perception of him. It takes months of persistant kindness and fluffy behavior before a little of her ice melts.
She doesnt like him exactly, but he's okay, she supposes. Shen Yuan is happy when he is around.
When her master puts her into the hand of his disciple, she wants to seal herself. No one else is worthy of her power, but she can feel him in the desperate, wordless please god dont make me do this, the fear, not for himself, but for the boy.
I will protect, she decides, and she's not sure if he heard it, he isn't listening to her right now.
That's alright, like her, he has taken gaurdianship of someone, and as she would protect her master with her life and soul, it is only reasonable he would wish to do the same.
See you soon, she promises as they fall.
.
They are almost immediately thrust into combat, barely given time to land before a seven headed crocodile wasp is lunging for them. She leaps to defend, almost dragging Luo Binghe's arm in her wake.
It dies, and they have a moment to breathe.
There is a spark of discord in Binghe's Qi, the shock of Zheng Yang's shattering and the stress of the fall twisting it into anxious knots. She smooths them out like she learned to do for Shen Jiu when he was young and prone to them, and Binghe startles under her touch.
He cradles her like a babe, incautious of his injuries and she turns her sharp edge away from flesh.
"Oh," he whispers, awed. He is young, and her 200 years is much more impressive to a fresh student than the clumsy fumbling of the freshly forged.
She preens a little under his admiration. Perhaps he isnt so bad, just freshly forged himself and coltish with it.
The whetstone of experience and the heat of battle can turn the weakest pig iron into a peerless blade, and she expects there will be quite a bit of that in this place. She's almost excited for it. Almost.
Binghe's hands shake as he wipes the monster's blood off her blade with his shirt. She stands gaurd as he wraps himself in her master's robe and cries.
.
Days become months and months become years, and the little puppy proves himself to be a fine young wolf indeed, blossoming under her gentle guidence.
There are parts of him that reminds her of Shen Yuan and Shen Jiu both; Jiu'er's stubborn endurance and will the succeed, A'Yuan's patient care and adaptability.
In his hand, she flies, the whip sharp stinger of a scorpian-fly sliding right past then as he drives her to the hilt in it's eye. He draws her back out so fast she comes out clean.
(Her A'Luo has grown so very strong, and she is so, so proud of him.)