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It’s not often that you catch the outlander from Captain Beidou’s ship, but when you do , you always find yourself a little more flustered than you should be.
You usually carry on with work at the market without catching wind of his name even once. Though the mysterious addition to the Crux Fleet frequents the shopping district whenever their ship docks at the harbor, even the nosiest of merchants have only known him as: that kind Inazuman fellow . Because that’s what he is—a boy who smiles the same way a gentle wind makes leaves dance in the fall.
Being an outlander and all, you expected someone like him to be a bit more callous, a bit more secretive. But that kind Inazuman fellow walks the streets of the harbor city, shopping for his crewmates’ rations with the charisma of a long-time native. And, to your surprise, he always pays your humble little booth a quick visit.
Admittedly, your business isn’t much—just a sideline to help fund your ailing mother’s exorbitant medical bills. It’s tucked in the furthest corner of the quad, away from the congestion of market-goers in the middle of the wharf. Charms and divinations aren’t even essential to a sailor’s life at sea, but the boy with ruby red eyes offers his patronage every chance he gets, regardless.
And you’re not about to deny that you appreciate the consistency.
Word of the Crux’s return after a week-long voyage spreads like wildfire across the baywalk, and you’ve rearranged the handmade amulets out on display for the third time in the span of five minutes. To any regular, you would look like nothing but a fidgeting mess behind your own crafted merchandise, but it isn’t one of those debt-mongering Fatui that left you so restless.
Today, that kind Inazuman fellow flashes you that same, lopsided smile—powder white hair swaying slightly in the breeze as he approaches your stall. He seems to be carrying more bags than usual, but you elect not to pry and instead, address him with a sunny smile and an equally sunny greeting.
“We’re headed south for a while,” he tells you, gentle fingers probing one of your incandescence charms. “What would you recommend I take with us for the trip?”
“South...? You’re headed to Inazuma?” you wonder somewhat mindlessly, and when he stiffens at the question, you sputter out a string of apologies just as quickly as you spoke. He laughs, but the sound of it is all sorts of uneasy.
“It’s not a homecoming, if that’s what you’re thinking,” he informs you somberly, gaze flickering to meet yours. “Someone...needs my help. And the Captain seems pretty sold on the idea of offering him assistance, too.”
You spare him a nod, curious but resigned. It’s not your place to pry for the reason behind the Crux Fleet’s next voyage—even if it obviously unnerves him to return to his homeland. The person before you is an outlander who’s seen more than you can ever hope to witness, and you’re merely one of many who try to make a living out of the trade. Your paths just happened to intersect at this point in time, and you’re not so deluded to think it could turn into something more.
But even with the assortment of warding talismans and safety charms you’ve put up for sale, none of them seem fit to give as a parting gift.
Emboldened, you ask, “When are you leaving?”
He arches an eyebrow and says that they’ll depart tomorrow at the crack of dawn. The information alarms you a little, and you begin mentally calculating how long it’s going to take for you to pull off what you’re plotting. Thankfully, he seems clueless to your motives, and merely cranes his head at your contemplation.
“Tomorrow,” you decide with a quick snap of your fingers. “I’ll give you the charm tomorrow before you leave. Free of charge.”
The outlander stares at you, puzzled for a few moments before his confusion morphs into amusement. But just like the free-flowing winds, he doesn’t question your proposition. Instead, he nods along with the understanding of an old friend—giving you an undeserved glimpse of that kind hearted smile.
“I’ll wait for you by the docks, then.”
...
You’re a bit grateful that you decided to befriend Atsuko a few months earlier. Like the (still) unnamed outlander from the Crux, she was one of the fortunate few who fled from the realm of the Raiden Shogun and survived to make a living somewhere else. Somewhere safe .
But in spite of the shadows that tied her to the past, Atsuko was more than willing to teach you how to make omamori amulets.
“Back then, before the Vision Hunt, I made lots of these with my sisters. To wish friends and family good fortune.” She sighs, and the reminiscence in her tone as she strings the charm together makes you wonder...
Does he have things he misses about his home?
Atsuko assists you all the way—from sewing the base to embroidering the unfamiliar letters of a foreign language. Favor of the gods , she translates, and somehow, you find it fitting.
You hardly got a wink of sleep that night—the anticipation in your bones buzzing you into consciousness every time your eyelids started to droop. But whatever semblance of fatigue that weighs down your limbs dissipates when you notice the sky growing lighter from your bedroom window.
The seaside market is quiet this early in the morning. Delivery days aren’t scheduled until the weekend, and you relish in the feeling of the chilly atmosphere seeping into the fabric of your clothes. Without the bustle of business, the salty air feels lighter in your lungs, and you contemplate going on strolls like this more frequently. Maybe your mother can appreciate the fresh breeze, as well.
However, your silent musing is interrupted by the sound of a reed whistling in the wind.
You spot him seated precariously atop the wooden beams, legs dangling by the edge of the baywalk like he’s confident he won’t fall into the water. Your strides slow, taking in the sight of his vibrant clothes becoming muted in the waking sun’s shadow. From his perch flows a soft tune that lulls you into a sense of calm. What instrument is he playing?
Once you’ve drawn close enough, the melody stops, and a speck of disappointment blooms in your chest until the outlander turns around to face you.
Powder white hair and ruby red eyes—your heart nearly stops.
“You made it,” he says, and you like to think he’s happy to see you, too. But as you crane your neck for a glimpse of what he’s got in his hands, your brows furrow at the sight of a lone, red leaf drifting from his lap and down to the sea below. Were you hearing things?
“U-Um, yes,” you stutter, nearly forgetting the box you had on your person. “Here it is.”
He thanks you with a curt nod, accepting it without a fuss. Kind eyes rove over the silk red ribbon tied neatly over a crisp white package—the very same colors you’ve come to admire about him. The outlander smiles, as if seeing the resemblance, and unwraps your gift in earnest.
“Favor of the gods,” he murmurs, deft fingers glossing over the omamori laid atop a plush red cloth. “This is oddly specific of you.”
Your face burns. “I...didn’t know if blessing Inazuman charms the same way as Liyuen ones would have the same effect. Maybe if we ask for the archons’ guidance in the vaguest manner possible, they’ll be more willing to help? Who knows, maybe there are—”
For the entire time you’ve known this kind Inazuman fellow , you never heard him laugh. Sure, he’d crack a well-meaning smile whenever you told him a bad joke, but this ...
Those deep red eyes crinkled with glee as he stifles his chuckles behind a gloved hand—yet still cautiously handling your gift with the other. The maple leaves patterned on his clothes seem to move along with his emotions, but that’s probably just the sleep deprivation talking. Nonetheless, only a single thought lingers on your mind even when the outlander finally composes himself.
He’s ... beautiful.
“Kazuha.”
The sound of his voice reels you back, and he hops off the banister and back to the boardwalk in one swift motion. Even the way he moves is leaving you mesmerized. Huh. Maybe it is necessary to sleep at least eight hours a day.
“What was that?” you ask dryly.
Behind him, the sun rises steadily over the horizon—reminding you of what little time you have left.
But...it doesn’t really matter, does it? Those days you spent ogling him in the seaside market have come to an end. No more looking for a head of snow white hair and piercing red eyes. No more fidgeting in your own stall as a peculiar outlander examines your wares. No more—
You squeak in surprise when he takes your hands in his. They’re warm. Warmer than you expected. He tucked your present beneath his arm so he can pull you close, and the fact of the matter makes you blush. He smiles—slow as a sunrise, but twice as beautiful.
”My name is Kazuha,” he repeats. “And I swear on the thoughtfulness of your gift that I’ll return the favor.”
It takes you a moment to process his words, but Kazuha doesn’t wait for you to come to terms with them. He peels away from you much quicker than you would like, and he’s already turning on his heel to leave. You open your mouth, lips framing over the words, yet still having some difficulty to just spit it out —
“And how do you plan on doing that?!”
You cringe at the way your voice echoes throughout the empty pier—thank archons no one’s around to hear it but him. Kazuha spares you a backwards glance, and with yet another gentle grin lancing through your heart, he says:
”By bringing you back a real omamori , of course.”