Chapter Text
i.
Kazuha shoots up straight in his hammock, his heart racing as he thrashes against the hands against his shoulders. His bandaged hand throbs, the phantom burns searing up his forearm. His eyes burn even as he blinks away his tears, willing himself to focus on the present and ignore that gnawing cold building in him even in the well-warmed cabin.
A candle flickers to life and Beidou’s visage becomes clear to him. He exhales, sharply, lowering himself back down to stare at the wooden ceiling. The hammock sways, warning him against further sudden movements. He doesn’t want to see his captain’s expression, though Beidou, however unruly she might be, knows all the lines he wouldn’t let her cross.
The sight of Beidou reminds him that he’s here – on a boat, far from Inazuma – in the captain’s own cabin on the Alcor itself. And if he pays attention, the calm swishing lull of the ocean night can be heard, calling him back to sleep. With the way his blood still thrums from the dream, he doubts that he’d be able to fall back into slumber anytime soon.
“Y’know, hammocks don’t make for great wrestling companions,” Beidou’s remark inevitably comes, her voice dry, but not unkind. “If you’re planning on some training, may I suggest a sparring session on the deck instead?”
Kazuha chuckles. “And here I thought I might triumph against this monster.”
“Well, if you’re speaking in your usual metaphors, I’d say that that’s a tough fight. But if you’re really looking to battle this poor piece of cloth, I’d remind you that Mora-Grubber’s a tad unhappy with the accounts lately. May the gods protect you from her wrath if she realises you’ve added another line of red to the expenditure,” Beidou says, with some sympathy laced into her tone. “I’m not going to protect you from her, got it boy?”
Kazuha can only imagine Mora Grubber’s cold rage. Captain Beidou runs a tight ship with insanely capable crewmembers, and they didn’t become the famed Crux Fleet without a mountain of gold backing them. A fearsome bookkeeper has undoubtedly been a key part of their success.
“Got it,” Kazuha acknowledges, smartly, saluting as he sits up as best as he can.
Or at least, he tries to salute smartly, but he winds up toppling out of the hammock instead, his legs twisted against the cloth. Beidou just watches as he lands against the floor with a thud. Ouch.
“Urgh,” Kazuha groans, “is this payback? My dear hammock—”
Kazuha doesn’t need to look up to see Beidou rolling her eyes. “Gods, boy. Get up. See you on the deck in five.”
Ignoring his pleas for help – please free me? – Beidou stalks out of the cabin, shutting the door behind her with a slam. Truly, Mora Grubber should go after the captain for ruining the door hinges or something, not him!
The captain’s footsteps are loud against the wooden floor as she walks away. He’s grateful to her, of course he is. He’d be dead otherwise, surely. She’s also kind enough to let him commandeer her room on rainy nights, when he battles bouts of sneezing that keep the rest of the crew up.
But all the same, Kazuha wonders if he’ll ever stop dreaming of that autumn evening.
———
“Kaedehara-san,” his friend calls out as he jogs up to him, a grin on his face.
He is a good ways taller than Kazuha is, his hair just a touch darker than Kazuha’s own. His eyes are kind, playful like a wild cat’s. Kazuha has trailed after him for a good part of the month, following him across fields of grassy plains, assured that this boy leads him to wherever he wants to go under the azure skies.
Kazuha looks up at him, not bothering to get up from his spot underneath the tree. The wind is blowing gently, rustling the boy’s hair. On Tomoya’s face is a smudge of pink, likely flushed from his journey up the steep slope. In his hand is a fish still in his final death throes, and it flails feebly every couple of seconds against Tomoya’s grip. Strictly speaking, Kazuha hasn’t always been the biggest fan of fish, but Tomoya is. If Tomoya wants to descale a golden bass and grill it for their midday meal, Kazuha will be content to oblige.
Whatever Tomoya wants, Kazuha will gift it to him. Wherever Tomoya goes, Kazuha will follow. If the expression on Tomoya’s face always stretches like sunshine, it is enough.
ii.
Truth be told, Kaedehara Kazuha is not a social creature. At best, he could claim friendship amongst the woods. The squirrels in the trees chitter at him amicably, and birds rarely fly away when they see Kazuha. If you look at Kazuha, you’d think him a rushing brook in the middle of a forest. His gaze is ever-still, calm even as they pull you apart, assessing every facet of you. Underneath, perhaps, is a current that tugs, drags you under and away if you ventured past the surface.
But Kazuha is no longer on land, and he has to learn to be a part of the ship, part of a crew. By virtue of the breath he still draws, his debt to Captain Beidou is already immeasurable. Never mind that she watches out for him even as she manages her vast crew, only poking a little fun when he sniffs his nose off in a rainstorm. Never mind that she drags him onto land with her when she negotiates new deals, letting his wobbly sea legs find purchase on solid ground after weeks of dreary grey seas.
He quickly finds that he does best trading shifts with Liushi in the crow’s nest, perched high above everyone on the Alcor. The first time Kazuha ventured up to the lookout point, Liushi nearly threw a flask at his face in shock; Kazuha had leapt his way up effortlessly, propelled by gusts of wind. But Liushi lets Kazuha stay up there with him. Liushi even shares his oil-coated blanket with Kazuha when the ships are caught in the rain. Gruffly, he explains that he doesn’t need Kazuha catching a cold in a winter storm.
Kazuha suspects that Liushi’s only so accommodating because Kazuha teaches him a few songs he’s heard throughout his journeys in Inazuma, and makes up new tunes on the fly. Liushi latches onto a lullaby that Kazuha’s once heard from a small mountain village in the hinterlands. He’s heard a few variants of the tune then in that particular region, all equally melancholic.
Even if I die, no one will mourn and cry.
Only the cicadas cry in the mountain behind. But only a crow of the mountains will crow.
Even if I die, no one will visit my grave.
So it’ll be better to have my body buried by the roadside. Then, someone might give me a flower.
And, a few nights later:
Beidou pulls Kazuha aside to tell him that Liushi’s mournful Inazuman lullaby has reignited rumours of a haunting aboard the Alcor. At first, Kazuha bristles (is it an accusation?), but he realises that she’s trying to hold back from laughing. She does tell him to try to come up with happier tunes for the crew, for sailors don’t exactly need their morale dampened by a ghost.
After all, ghosts don’t really exist, do they?
———
“My friend,” Kazuha murmurs, “do you think you’re missed?”
Tomoya grunts. “Mmm?”
The two of them lie about in an abandoned hut, woodland insects chirping loudly around them. It’s a wonder, really, that Tomoya heard Kazuha’s question through the cacophony. The summer heat has led them to while away the afternoon, content to take a nap atop a mat of dried grass. Their clothes are drying outside in the sun from an earlier dip in the river. Maybe they should’ve shed their clothes before diving straight into the water, but the midsummer heat trumped any logic they had.
Besides, this way, Tomoya’s sun-bronzed skin is out in plain view. Kazuha can’t complain, even if his cheeks burn if he peers too long at his friend.
Tomoya licks his lips. “Well, don’t think I have many people back in my hometown to miss me anyway. How about you?”
“Me? You know that the Kaedehara clan is gone. I’m the last of them.” His father barely spared him the time of the day, Tomoya knew that. “I don’t think the attendants will miss me much.”
This is probably true. Kazuha never spent much time outside of his books. If the attendants knew him, they knew him as a young, sullen boy, who spent his time outside of classes reading in the gardens. Or, less charitably, they knew him as the boy who’d run away from the Kaedehara compound, prompting overnight searches for a foolish heir to a husk of fortunes.
Tomoya can only snort at Kazuha’s remark. “No, silly. Lighten up, I was just trying to ask if you’d be the one missing me.”
Kazuha doesn’t want to turn to face Tomoya. Tomoya will see the flush creeping up his neck. Tomoya will make fun of him, again.
But in the end, he mumbles, “Yeah, I might miss you.”
“Great!” Tomoya’s smile is clear in his voice. “But don’t miss me too much, alright? You gotta move on, you hear?”
Kazuha turns to face Tomoya, glaring. “Hey, saying stuff like that’s unlucky.”
Tomoya’s grin doesn’t falter. “Eh, y’know what they say – you gotta make your own luck. That means no wallowing in stuff, just do what you wanna do!”
“That’s not what it means—”
“Shh, I don’t wanna hear it o’ mighty Kaedehara-sama—”
“Urgh, you’re a dick, you know that?” Kazuha groans, turning away from Tomoya.
Tomoya only makes a pleased sound. One point for him, zero for Kazuha.
iii.
Kazuha’s name is just barely known to the crew when they pull into Liyue the first time. The Inazuma boy trails behind Beidou as she leaps onto the wooden dock in Liyue Harbor. Liushi has told him that the fleet rarely docks proper in Liyue Harbor, with the Liyue Qixing’s sharp scrutiny on all cargo in the fleet. Docking in the Harbor itself usually means an entire string of fines, endless taxation slips to file, and even the occasional audit by a few bedraggled employees from the Ministry of Civil Affairs.
An explanation of what the Liyue Qixing is immediately makes Kazuha bristle. Ah, the government of Liyue. What has the Crux done to warrant such hostility from their leaders? Even if he’s only been in Liyue for a few minutes, he already sees how much the Liyueren adore the Crux, and Beidou is so obviously well-loved by everyone that is clearly well-earned. Why would the Qixing clamp down on the Crux so? The people in power — are they like the Shogunate?
But when he makes his opinion known to Beidou, she only laughs loudly, dismissing his concerns.
“Ah, well. The Qixing do a decent job, all things considered… They could do a better one, for sure, but you’re not here to hear me pick apart policy. What would I, a lowly pirate, understand about laws and all that nonsense?” Beidou takes a swig of the wine on the table, making a pleased sound. “Oi Xiangling, are you done with the food yet?” Eyeing Kazuha, she adds, “If we don’t feed him quick, he’ll be carried away by the wind!”
Distantly, a few clangs can be heard as the girl – Xiangling – rushes frantically through the kitchen. When she emerges, Kazuha sees her more clearly for the first time. She’s probably somewhere around his age, if not somewhat younger, trailed by… an orange panda? Her golden eyes are frantic as she quickly sets a steaming tray of fish on the table.
“Sheesh capt! If you want something quick, bring back a smaller fish next time?” Xiangling is pouting, arms crossed as the small orange panda hops at her feet. “Guoba doesn’t spit chilis out in seconds!”
Beidou waves her hand in apology. “Sorry, sorry, y’know how it is — I just can’t wait for Kazuha here to try something you’ve made and gods, how long as it been since we’ve been back to Liyue?”
Kazuha inhales deeply as Xiangling pulls the lid back to reveal the dish as the girl just giggles, entirely appeased. It’s well-stepped in a broth of red chilli, smelling of spices Kazuha’s unfamiliar with. Kazuha recognises ingredients like peanuts and the sharp coolness of ginger. There’s also something that smells vaguely like miso, but not quite either.
Seeing Kazuha’s curiosity, Xiangling launches into a thorough explanation of the dish. Beidou does not share Xiangling and Kazuha’s interest in the details behind the dish, electing to stick her chopsticks to pry apart the tender white flesh of the fish’s belly without further ado. Meanwhile, Kazuha listens as Xiangling explains how she and Chef Mao would ferment the bean paste themselves, which well, doesn’t sound completely different from how people in his hometown might have done with miso.
Xiangling’s also prepared the dish in general accordance of how Beidou enjoys it, i.e., loaded with an entire mountain of chilli peppers.
Which, expectedly, spells Kazuha’s tears a minute into the dish. May the gods above save him, if they are even watching. Coughs shake his frame as he tries to dislodge the chili… something… stuck in his throat.
“Oops, d’you think we’ve gone a bit overboard?”
Beidou pauses mid-bite to pat Kazuha’s back. “Huh. I forget that the Inazumans don’t really eat spices. Say, Xiangling, d’you wanna come down to Ritou with us when we make a run down? I’m pretty sure the Qixing Commerce Guild’s yearly order for the Naganohara Fireworks will come through despite the whole mess so I’d expect to make a short trip southward.”
“The whole mess? Right, the Decree!”
Kazuha’s head snaps up. “Isn’t it dangerous for her to come with us?” The glow of the pyro Vision from Xiangling’s hip is all too obvious.
“Nah, Xiangling can defend herself. Right, Guoba?”
Beidou is talking to a panda. Oh gods.
But Guoba seems to agree with Beidou’s assessment. Guoba huffs, fire spurting from its mouth and landing on the stone floor. Even though Guoba is a good distance from Kazuha’s stool, the intense heat of the flames was apparent. Guoba huffs again, a spiral of smoke emanating from its mouth as it jumps to Xiangling’s side.
Xiangling giggles. “I think Guoba agrees. I’ll just let me dad know later – he’s probably going to gripe for a couple of days about losing me in the kitchen so don’t leave without me alright?”
“Ah, well. Guess we’ll have to get used to our land legs then.” Beidou makes a show of stretching, prompting another giggle from Xiangling. “Just as well, just as well, we’ve got a few things that we’re gonna have to settle.” Her single-eyed gaze snaps to Kazuha. “But first things first, we’ve gotta find you a guide!”
“Ooh, I’m sure Xinyan or Chongyun’s free to do it? Xingqiu’s been dragged to Mondstadt for some family business, but I’m pretty sure Xingqiu only agreed to go because he wants to see Mr Albedo.”
“Not volunteering yourself, Xiangling?”
Xiangling shrugs. Guoba huffs. It’s only more smoke, thankfully.
“Gotta talk to my dad, remember? Can’t do that if I’m not around. Speaking of people being in the restaurant, hi Ganyu!” Xiangling waves at the newcomer excitedly. “Finally get out of the Yujing Terrace?”
Beidou’s reaction to seeing Ganyu cannot be more different. But even as Beidou groans, Ganyu’s polite smile remains fixed in place.
“Ganyu,” Beidou finally greets after a round of dramatics. “Not that I’m not happy to see you, but am I to be pulled from lunch?”
“Hello, Xiangling,” she dips her head. An interesting headpiece choice. “Good afternoon Beidou, and…” Ganyu’s voice trails off.
“Unless her intel network is going to shit, you don’t have to pretend that you don’t know his name is Kazuha.”
“Ah, well…” Ganyu’s head remains lowered. “I’m glad to make your acquaintance.” When she lifts her head, she addresses Beidou to say, “And yes, I’m sorry but… your presence has been requested by the Tianquan. She says to bring Kazuha.”
“Immediately?”
Ganyu dithers. “Mmm… her schedule’s pretty tight…”
Beidou shrugs. “She could spare you, couldn’t she? So she can definitely spare a few more minutes. Why not join us? I bet we need some help with finishing the lotus root.”
Ganyu shuts her eyes, sighing. Kazuha watches as a series of complicated emotions flit across Ganyu’s face before she resigns herself to taking a seat. Xiangling and Beidou cheer. Ganyu only sighs again.
Kazuha gets the feeling this happens pretty often. He wonders why Beidou lets him slot himself into their lives like this when he’s probably a disruption to their mutual familiarity.
———
“You’re not jealous of neko-chan, are you?”
Naturally, Kazuha scoffs. “Me, jealous of that runt?”
Tomoya holds the kitten close to his face, chirping to get the kitten close to his face. “Aww, don’t listen to him, he’s just upset that I like you more. You’ll grow up well and healthy, and then you’ll show the rest of ’em! Who’s a good boy?”
“Tomoya, it’s not a dog.”
“You’re gonna be the bestest hunter, you betcha ass he would.”
“It doesn’t even understand you. And bestest isn’t a real word.”
“Pspspsps, look at me neko-chan!”
“Tomoya, why don’t you just give it a name?”
For the first time in the past ten minutes, Tomoya finally snaps his gaze away from the tiny white kitten. Kazuha’s heart stutters when Tomoya grins, his crooked tooth flashing under the midday light.
“Oh, you’re right! Hmm… but what should we name it?”
Kazuha shrugs, pretending to be unaffected by Tomoya’s cheery expression. “I don’t know.”
“Well, you came up with the idea, so you’re gonna name it!”
Tomoya shoves the kitten under Kazuha’s chin. The kitten’s sleepy pale eyes gaze up at him. Strictly speaking, Kazuha has never been particularly fond of cats. It’s nothing so base as being allergic to them, but all the same, he has to hold back a sneeze when the tips of the kitten’s ears brush against his cheeks.
“Okara?”
“Just because it’s white doesn’t mean we can name it after pulp.”
“Tofu?” Kazuha ventures, uncertainly. Tomoya likes tofu enough, right?
Tomoya hums. “Tofu-chan, Tofu-chan.” The kitten mreows softly. “Ooh, you like that, don’t you? It’s settled then.” Tomoya pulls the newly named Tofu away from Kazuha, who exhales in relief. “Tofu-chan, you’ve gotta watch Kazuha for me, okay?”
“Hey, what are you making this tiny beast do?”
Tomoya shrugs as he peers back at Kazuha. “Watch over you if I’m not around, of course. Tofu’s gonna earn his keep, I just know it.”
iv.
Kazuha’s legs are falling asleep as he waits on one of the upper floors of the Jade Chamber. The chair that one of the secretaries insists he sits on is comfortable enough, sure, but Beidou’s been stuck in her meeting for what feels like forever by now. What’s keeping her?
Kazuha looks around the place. It’s opulent, that’s for sure. The place is not necessarily overly showy, per se, but the rooms are obviously designed to impress a guest. The wooden floors are polished till they’re gleaming, and the paper skins of the lamps overhead are painted with little intricate details. He wonders how much those paper screens and vases cost.
He still can’t believe that one of the Liyue Qixing built a floating palace in the sky. The very idea sounds absolutely insane to him. From what Beidou and Ganyu helpfully filled him in on, the Jade Chamber’s essentially the work of the Tianquan alone. Whatever possessed her to such insane ambition, he wants can’t say he begins to understand. Beidou had a few choice words to say about the Qixing, but Ganyu always had something to chip in in her defence. But, as Beidou herself said as they arrived, they work closely together. Kazuha would probably be seeing a lot of Ganyu around, at a minimum.
“Mr Kaedehara?” one of secretaries ask as they step up to him. “Your presence has been requested.”
Kazuha exhales. About time. He has to try to not stare at the eerie greenish glow of the plaustrite core when they near the bottom, opting instead to look at the pond in the middle of the building. A pond, gods above. A pond in the sky? If he tells anyone back home about this, they might think him mad. Though, he muses, everyone in Inazuma has probably heard about the Jade Chamber by now. Well, everyone but social recluses like he was.
“I’m sorry that we’ve kept you waiting.”
The first sentence that Tianquan Ningguang says to him is not what he expects.
She affects a small and polite smile, purely built of pleasantries and perhaps yes, some genuine contrition. She carries herself with an air that leaves no room for doubt that she’s the person of authority in this room, a person to be respected in all of Liyue, and whom expects to be respected in return too. Her silk clothes are embroidered with gold thread, the material clinging closely to her figure. She’s also quite irrefutably taller than he is, and he’s not quite sure whether the Tianquan or captain stand taller than the other. Her face, framed by her bone-white hair, is probably a well-envied visage in Liyue.
“She’s not,” Beidou cuts in before the Tianquan can say anything else.
The mask of politeness threatens to slip on the other woman’s face, with the corners of her eyebrows twitching so very slightly. If Kazuha wasn’t watching her so closely, he’d have missed it.
“Please excuse the captain. I make my apologies again, I do not usually keep strangers waiting like that.”
“Only pissy businessmen.”
“Captain.” Tianquan Ningguang has abandoned her pretence of neutrality now, openly displaying her annoyance as her lips twitch downward.
Kazuha watches them with some interest. He half expects the Tianquan to have kicked Beidou out for her lack of manners by now. But the Tianquan only exhales, slowly, before she turns to Kazuha. She draws closer to him, her sharp red eyes staring unflinchingly at him.
“If I may skip the introductions – I’m sure the captain has coloured your impression of me enough already. I know who you are, as you I.” When he nods, she continues, ““Kaedehara Kazuha… a wanted fugitive from Inazuma. Tell me, what are your thoughts on the Vision Hunt Decree?”
He stiffens. “The Decree has led the Tenryou Commission to hunt me down, and has claimed the life of my dear friend. If I can speak plainly, Madam, I have to say that I don’t understand what it’s for. In fact, I must say I hate anyone who dares to steal our dreams from us.”
“Oh?”
From the side, Beidou watches him, clearly entertained, if the quirk in her lips and eyebrow is something to go by. At least someone is enjoying this encounter, for reasons he cannot fathom.
“The Decree has only wrought death and destruction upon the country I came from. Everyone wants recognition from the gods, but this is not it.”
He clenches his fists, the burn scar throbbing.
“Mm. It’s a pity, that those in power will deign to act against their own people so. Very well. As far as I am concerned, the captain has a new crew member.” She turns to Beidou, “Get his registration settled – I care not how you go about it. I expect that there’ll be no delays on the festival’s shipments?”
Beidou groans when her entertainment turns out to be entirely short-lived. “Yeah, yeah. Yoimiya’s managed to get word to us that they’ll have the cargo up at Ritou, thereabouts, when we sail back.”
“Good. I’ll see you when I next do.”
At this, Beidou visibly rolls her eyes. Beidou grabs Kazuha’s shoulders, directing them out of the office. “That’s Ningguang speak for get out of my sight, worms – she’s just too polite to say it. She’s gonna be scrutinising us a lil bit, like the pain in the ass she can be sometimes.”
If the Tianquan can hear them still, she makes no indication of it when Kazuha turns back to look. Instead, she has returned to her desk, a troubled expression unfurling across her face as she picks up an open scroll.
———
“Tofu really likes you.”
Kazuha whirls about to see Tofu dutifully trailing after him even though he’s only gotten up to fetch some water. Kazuha holds back a snort at the proclamation. But sure enough, Tofu is right there, its bright eyes never leaving Kazuha’s own.
“Tofu likes you better.” Tofu is always tucked in Tomoya’s clothes. Is it because Tomoya’s always warm?
Tomoya points out that he feeds Tofu all the time. Consequently, the cat’s bound to love him. But Kazuha? Kazuha is the one who’s slightly better at spearing fish, better at gauging the shadow to water depth ratio, or whatever Kazuha tried explaining to Tomoya the last time he tried teaching his friend this skill. Tomoya’s not very good at it. But that’s okay, Kazuha’s more than competent at it after years of wandering the countryside himself.
Besides, Tomoya’s fingers are currently covered in charcoal. Kazuha has noticed that Tofu detests being anything other than as cleanly pale as its namesake. Tomoya, stuck in a sketching session, is far from Tofu’s ideal companion right now.
Sighing, he bends down to scratch against the cat’s ears. “I’ll get some fish for us later, you’ll like that, yeah?” Then, to Tomoya, he asks, “What were you drawing?”
Tomoya flips the sketchpad around. “You, of course. Writing poetry like that, oh so serious. How could I resist?”
Kazuha buries his burning face in his hands. “Now you’re making fun of me.”
“Yeah, I always make fun of you, don’t I?”
“You really do.” Kazuha grumbles.
Even as his head is still buried in his hands, he’s positive that Tomoya has the biggest shit-eating grin on his face right now. Kazuha bites back a sigh. Tofu meows, comfortingly, nuzzling against Kazuha’s ankles. Okay, okay, he’ll free his hands to pat the cat. Tomoya can laugh at the red on his face for all he cares! From today onwards, he’ll only care about Tofu’s opinion of him! (Not.)
v.
A faint smell of incense curls its way into every nook and cranny of the shop, where a few joss sticks burn in their place at the teakwood altar. Whoever the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor’s boss is praying to, Kazuha isn’t sure, given the absence of a god-deity carving anywhere around them. All around him is the heavy weight of freshly varnished wood, thick and resinous, warring with the scent of sandalwood, chrysanthemum, and a far sweeter scent of plum blossoms. He never knew plum blossoms bloomed in winter, but here they are.
The parlour’s boss appears happy to sit and chat with Kazuha, though Kazuha has declined the teacakes that she’s offered him after she asked whether he’d like to be her latest customer. No thank you — he isn’t fond of poison, no sir.
While Beidou seems to trust Director Hu, surely there are occasions that her judgment would lapse, right? After all, she took him in, and that doesn’t rank high on his list of particularly wise decisions; in this regard, he can’t help agree with the Tianquan’s blunt proclamation about him. She certainly trusted her enough to just… leave him here in the strange woman’s company as she headed off to speak with the legal advisor, who apparently enjoys spending her time around a funeral parlour.
Kazuha remembers that when he visited the shrines back home, there would usually be far more stone sculptures about, or statues depicting the oni of old. He has never quite been in a funeral parlour before — when his family members passed, Kazuha disappeared to the wind. Funeral rites were another unnecessary complication that would’ve bogged him down in the city. Besides, to pay respects to people he held no respect for in life was just plainly insincere. The lack of anything else beyond what Kazuha usually associated with spiritual things surprises him. From the outside, he could hardly tell that it was a funeral parlour.
The question slips out of his mouth before he figures out how to better phrase it.
Director Hu blinks at him before she breaks into a grin. “You’re asking why we don’t put up spirit figurines! How interesting. No one ever asks me these things.”
Kazuha nods, hiding his face behind a tea cup as he pretends to drink it. The tea does smell absurdly good though. She had said that it was the consultant that brewed the tea. Apparently, consultant Zhongli is excellent at estimating the water’s temperature from long years of tea brewing, and knows exactly how long to scald the tea leaves such that they release their flavour without becoming bitter-heavy with tannins. Not me, please! Food? Drinks? Ehhh….
“Well, you understand that our Archon is still alive, right? What with him being the longest living guy and all. May Rex Lapis always watch over us and all that — putting figurines up of him would make him look like he’s dead, and I don’t think anyone wants that.” Director Hu hums. “Of course, it’s something to do with luck too — dead gods are bad luck here. No one will come by if they think I want a god dead.”
“Do you get a lot of business then?” Kazuha marvels at himself: is he really making small talk?
“Well, it’s seasonal, sorta. Bad things happen, people are scared of dying, then they’ll come by and secure their afterlife rites. Good things happen, people have lotsa money to spare, then they’d want to bring it to their afterlife.” Director Hu shrugs. “There’s no such thing as bringing their Mora to the grave, but every time I explain that the businesspeople seem to have wax stuffed in their ears!”
Kazuha can only imagine the pompous denial from the Mora-chasing type. “So… the dead.” He doesn’t quite know how to phrase his question. “Do they care about the affairs of the living?”
“The ‘affairs of the living’, as you so eloquently put?” Director Hu barks out a laugh. “Ideally, no, if they’ve crossed over to the afterlife properly. If they’ve not,” Director Hu pauses, contemplating, “I’d hope that I can send them to the other side.”
Director Hu looks up at the ceiling, a somewhat melancholic expression stealing across her face. “No one deserves to be stuck in the in between. Worse still, are when they’re stuck for longer than they should be.” She lowers her head, looking at Kazuha. “Is there anyone you’re worried about?”
Kazuha dips his head in a short nod. “Ghosts – they’re real?”
“Only if they’ve not passed over, yes.”
“Huh.”
“Most of the dead are able to find their way to the other side easily enough. If not…” She mulls her next words, pouring more tea for herself. It’s probably not poisoned. “Well, they usually cling to the things they feel most strongly about. Sometimes they trail after people they’ve loved in life, sometimes they spend decades swearing vengeance on their enemies.”
“Oh?”
A wistful smile crosses Director Hu’s face. “It makes for interesting tragicomedies only I can see, let’s leave it at that. You’re curious, yoh?” Director Hu makes a show of peering about Kazuha’s surroundings. “You ain’t got no ghost about you!”
Kazuha can’t tell if he’s relieved, or disappointed. But before he gets to spend more time delving into his feelings, the door bursts open and Yanfei and Beidou appear.
“Captain!” Director Hu greets with a cheery smile. “How’s one of my best customers doing today?”
Kazuha raises his brow. The pink haired lady, Yanfei, mouths that the Crux are best prepared for a thousand different contingencies. Which, unfortunately, also means that they’re ready to bury the dead as and when in their line of work. Body or no body, the captain wants to ensure her crew gets a proper send-off. Kazuha only imagines that if he dies mid-voyage, they’d have to bury him at sea before he rots.
“Eh? Just peachy, thanks. Someone’s gonna drag me back from the dead to kill me herself if I died before finishing the job y’know.”
Director Hu and Yanfei giggle at that. Kazuha has absolutely no idea who she’s referring to. He gets to his feet, glad that his captain is done talking to Yanfei about… whatever she was busy with.
“Oh, Kazuha, we’ve settled your papers!” Beidou is beaming at him now.
Yanfei sighs. “They’re not as legal as Beidou thinks they are. According to the laws of Liyue, under chapter fifty-eight, otherwise known as the Liyue Registration Act—”
“Oh, sheesh. We’ve kept to the word of the law.”
“The spirit of the law isn’t adhered to! I’ve helped you this time, but you’ve got to understand that the Tianquan can scrutinise your lack of adherence to chapter fifty-eight, especially the clauses I’ve marked out on your copy, where pursuant to—”
“Eh, I don’t wanna hear it.”
“Hey, watch your tone when you’re talking to Yanfei!”
A scroll is tossed his way, which Kazuha narrowly manages to catch.
“Whatever. Welcome to Liyue, Fengyuan Wan’ye!”
———
The lamplight spills into the clearing like a yolk, warm and yellow even as the night chases the sun out of the sky. Above them, the high caws of the crow stake their claim over the still-green trees even as a dozen and more birds whirl overhead. The chorus of insects have taken over the harmony of the night, but Kazuha finds himself contentedly gazing up at the star-washed inky night, his gaze affixed upon the craggy whites of the moon. Tomoya is the maestro of the evening, the lead instrument and conductor all in one as his husky voice tries out a wordless tune.
When Kazuha’s gaze turns, he finds Tomoya looking at him, his hair tousled from a long day of the wind’s gentle caress. (Then again, his hair is always a mess.)
“What were you singing, my friend?”
“Hmm?” Tomoya leaps from his spot atop a low wooden fence. “Nothing. Just something I used to hear my mom sing when I was little. Do you sing?”
“Me? I dunno, I’ve never really tried.” Kazuha frowns a little bit. “I’ve never had to sing, but I can play a flute, or a few of the stringed instruments.”
He tries for modesty, but Tomoya only whistles. “A few? Man, rich people are really something else eh? I jest, I jest. But seriously, unless you count being able to bang a stick against a drum musical talent, you’re a genius!”
“Eh…”
“Okay, you’re good at poetry, you’re good at hunting, and now you’re good at music?” Tomoya’s gaze drifts towards Kazuha’s Vision. “And that, my friend, are you telling me that you aren’t blessed by the gods? Man…”
Kazuha has a thousand words to offer as a retort on his tongue. But he doesn’t say any of them, not when Tomoya’s just grinning cheekily at him. Sometimes, Tomoya can be infuriating.
“What about you? Do you have anything you wanna learn?”
Tomoya throws his head back in laughter. “Typical Kazuha, never wanting to talk about yourself. Okay, I want to learn how to write poems like you do.”
“Hmm…” Kazuha hesitates. Should he tell Tomoya that he doesn’t think Tomoya’s particularly good at rhyme schemes?
But Tomoya’s nothing if he’s not good at observation. He’s still laughing when he points out that Kazuha’s stilted awkwardness is tumbling out of his expression.
“I’ll stick to drawing, alright. But hey, there is something I wanna do though.”
“Oh?”
“They say that our Archon’s…” he lowers his voice, “prowess with a blade is something to be envied. They say that Raiden Shogun’s the one to personally carry out her will, is that true?”
Kazuha makes a non-committal sound. “They say a good deal of things about her.”
As part of the Kaedeharas, he has naturally heard a few things from the Tenshukaku about the archon and the different Commissions that govern the country. Some of them are less than ideal, but that’s the reality of being stuck in a government, he supposes.
“Yeah, but… you’ve heard about the Musou no Hitotachi right?” At Kazuha’s frown, he begins waving his hands excitedly. “Of course you have!”
“I mean who hasn’t?” Kazuha’s frown grows deeper. “The only people who’ve seen it are dead.” At the growing curiosity on Tomoya’s face, he elaborates, “When the Archon pulls out her sword to administer divine punishment, the guilty bear witness to the might of the gods; no one’s survived it.”
Perhaps the Kujou Clan might’ve witnessed the executions, but he can’t be sure. Beyond the whole guaranteed death thing behind it, Kazuha’s not heard much else about it. Probably for the best, honestly.
There’s a moment of silence, before:
“Oh yeah, bet.”
Kazuha sits up. “You’re not serious?”
Tomoya fixes a perfectly serious expression. “I want to see it. There must be one who can withstand it. There will always be those who dare to brave the lightning's glow"”
That prompts Kazuha to get to his feet. Grabbing Tomoya by the lapels, he peers into his friend’s still gaze. “Tomoya, I’m telling you – they’ll kill you.”
Tomoya tries his best to shrug even as Kazuha’s grip on his clothes tighten. “And I mean it.”
Huffing, Kazuha releases him. “You’re nuts. Quit joking around.”
Tomoya’s laughter rings out into the night sky. It’s a dazzling sound, loud and clear as the brightest day.
Helplessly, Kazuha continues to watch him, dreading the way his heart beats, thud thud thud, to the staccato of his joy.