Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Light always casts a shadow.

Ei knew this to be one of the absolute principles of nature.

It was certain.

A fact.

The truth.

This resolute reality was Ei’s anchor. 

Everything she strove to do; everything she stood for, all of it was based on knowing deep within her heart that shadow and light would always be paired. 

Night’s fall. Dawn’s break. Twin forces, cycling one after the other. Over and over, like sun and moon; lightning and thunder. Separate, and yet undeniably linked. Different, but complimentary. 

Two parts to one whole. 

Makoto had been the sun; burning with steady strength. Like lightning; she made her mark on the world in flashing streaks of blinding white. Visible even after the closing of one’s eyes.

And Ei had been her moon. Glowingly luminescent within the shadows. The subsequent thunder, rolling and rising; shaking the very islands that they had fought for.

This was how things were; how they would continue to be.

These were the rules by which Ei lived. 

But there was more to it than that.

“So you’re... twins?” 

“Something like that,” Ei answered, and then she paused and turned her head to look down from her vantage point, high above Inazuma City on Tenshukaku’s observation tower. She stared out across the courtyard, and the busy streets of the city beyond.

“But not exactly.”

One of Yae’s pink, fluffy fox ears flopped to the side as she made to tilt her head. 

“Everything Makoto does,” Ei continued, voice softening carefully, “I can feel. And when she sends her thoughts out towards me, it’s like I’m thinking them myself. I can answer her as easily as I can speak to you, right here and now.”

“Sounds like it could get pretty noisy in there,” Yae teased as a smile crossed her lips.

“On the contrary, “ Ei replied, taking Yae’s jest at face value, “these exchanges are as tranquil and flowing as a mind at rest.” 

Yae pondered this for a moment, following Ei’s gaze out onto the city. She could barely make out the people down below, who moved about on the streets, small as anything.

“To see the world through the lense of two hearts at once does sound like quite the treat.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

And that had been the way of things for many, many years.

Until it wasn't.

“Ah, it’s you.”

Yae’s voice traveled with the breeze along Tenshukaku’s courtyard. A storm was approaching, and the wind was blowing pink blossoms in spirals across the darkening sky.

Ei looked up from her book. As she let the cover close, Yae leaned closer to have a look.

“Another old history book?” Yae asked, scrunching her face into a look of mock disgust.

“You make history sound like a bad thing.”

“It’s not bad, it’s just… don’t you want to read about something fantastic?” Yae asked, grinning broadly. Teasing Ei had become one of her favorite ways to pass the time; Yae had become quite the expert.

“Don’t you mean impossible?” Ei countered pointedly, but now she was smiling too.

“Nothing is impossible, where imagination is involved,” Yae offered objectively.

“I know you haven’t come to judge my choice of literature.”

“I haven’t,” Yae agreed, voice softening to solemnity. She paused and looked up into the sky. Clouds were forming, high above their heads. 

“Have you felt it?”

Silence, like the calm before lightning’s strike, overtook them.

The moment passed. 

“We have,” Ei replied simply, turning her head to look in Yae’s direction, “The Great Serpent stirs in ever-darkening waters. A subtle indication of something unexpected on eternity’s horizon.”

“Why now, I wonder,” Yae mused delicately, brows furrowing as she lost herself in her own question.

“It’s not the why that I’m concerned with,” Ei added bitterly, “If I had my way, I would have employed the Musou no Hitotachi at the sight of one scant ripple.”

Yae turned to look back at her, eyebrows raised.

“Does Makoto agree?”

“Of course she doesn’t,” Ei replied, but her features softened and her lavender-hued eyes narrowed with affection, “always the pacifist to my warrior. She hopes to find another way.”

“I fear that wishful thinking alone won’t get us through what’s to come,” Yae murmured as the first few drops of rain fell, darkening the stones beneath their feet.

But Ei, who pulled her power from the very wishes of those dearest to her, shook her head.

“Her wish. Our wish. In the end that’s all we have. The promise of a peaceful and prosperous nation. The promise we made to ourselves. To each other. To all of Inazuma.”

In between the slivers of raindrops, Yae could see Ei’s eyes glowing a faint violet as she spoke. Witnessing the power of the Electro Archon's warrior always made something like sparks scatter across Yae’s heart. She drew in a sharp breath.

“You always seem to know just what to say,” Yae breathed.

“There’s nothing to fear,” Ei soothed, “Our shared will will see us through. Whether we pacify or obliterate our obstacles, there is nothing on the whole of Teyvat that has the power to stand against us."

And in that moment, Yae believed her.

Kujou Sara.

“Almighty Shogun.”

Open your eyes.

Sara opened her eyes. She was in Tenshukaku, kneeling at the steps that led to the Shogun’s throne. She stared hard into the laquered wooden panels below her. 

What brings you here so unexpectedly, General?

“Almighty Shogun, I—”

And then she froze. The letters flashed through her mind. Proof of the Kujou Clan’s dealings with the Fatui; of their betrayal. 

Betrayal. 

That word seeped into Sara’s heart like a poison. She slammed her eyes closed and set her jaw.

“Almighty Shogun,” Sara continued, forcing each word from her lips, “I have proof of the Kujou Clan’s alliance with the Fatui. In order to perpetuate the Vision Hunt Decree they forged false statements regarding its success.”

Sara lifted her head, opening her eyes as she raised them up to where the Shogun stood at the top of the steps before her.

“They—” Sara’s voice broke, “they lied to you.” 

The Shogun stared back at her. 

“You’re only just now catching on?”

A haughty, lilting voice from behind her made Sara jump to her feet. 

A woman with flowing blonde hair and dress strode towards her. An intricate black mask covered one side of her face. Her lips twisted into a saccharine sneer. 

“You must be the Sneznhayan diplomat,” Sara spat as her hand hovered towards the hilt of her dueling sword. “I’ve told the Shogun of your designs. She is in the dark no longer.”

“She never was,” the woman countered grandly. 

As she drew closer, Sara could feel a chill frost permeating to the very core of her. She shivered and spun wildly around to face the Shogun, eyes widening.

“It’s true,” the Shogun replied simply, her expression unchanging, as stern and solemn as she ever had been. 

Sara’s mind raced. In the span of a few minutes, her entire world had been shattered. She struggled to find the words. 

“Playtime is over now, little pawn,” the diplomat drawled harshly behind her.

Sara turned back toward the woman with just enough time to see her pale eyes narrowing with a sadistic delight as she raised a hand against her.

But just before everything went black, she heard the Shogun’s voice. Softer and more delicate than Sara could ever remember. 

Two words fell onto Sara’s heart like silk.

I’m sorry. 

Kujou Sara snapped awake with the smell of burnt wood deep in her nostrils. She choked against a thin layer of ash coating the back of her throat. She looked wildly around for flames and saw none. And then, she noticed half-melted icicles in watery puddles all around the vast and empty space. 

What had happened while she was out?

Her memory came back to her like lashes from a whip. The Shogun’s piercing gaze. The Sneznhayan diplomat’s gloved hand, raising. A strike. And then darkness. 

I’m sorry.

“Almighty Shogun!”

Her cracked voice echoed out into the great hall. There came no answer. 

She was alone. 

She pushed herself to her feet and ran out onto the courtyard. 

Behind her, in the empty hall, a crimson butterfly beat its wings against the flow of air, lifting higher and higher until it burned itself out to ash and dust.

The soldiers Sara had battled to fight her way to the Shogun's throne were gone. As she hurried down the steps she could see signs of a great skirmish.

But where had everyone gone?

As she closed in on the ceremonial site where the enormous Statue of the Omnipresent God sat, she realized something looked different. Getting closer, she noticed that all the many Visions that had been inlaid upon the statue were gone. 

She stared up at it in silence.

“It’s over, General.”

Sara spun around. One of her lieutenants was standing behind her.

“What happened here?”

“The Vision Hunt Decree has ended, by command of the Almighty Shogun.”

“Where is she? I need to speak with her.” Sara made sure to keep control of her voice and composure even as her thoughts spiraled out of control.

“The Almighty Shogun is resting and has refused all visitation while she contemplates Inazuma’s way forward.”

Sara sucked in a harsh breath and stilled her shaking hands.

“Leave me,” she commanded, and behind her she could hear the sound of her lieutenants’ footsteps, retreating.

She stared up at the statue, and all the empty spaces where the Visions had once been set. 

Visions she had plucked with her very hands. All of it, always, for the Almighty Shogun.

The war was over. The Vision Hunt Decree nullified.

Just like that. How had it all happened so quickly? 

She turned away from the statue and let her eyes fall closed. She could hear celebration on distant streets, and in her heart she knew she should be relieved. Happy, even. Hadn’t this been her wish, all along? 

Why, then, did it feel so empty?

Chapter Text

All natural things have a reason for being. 

The dendobrium is no different. 

A flower with many stories, layered one atop the other, as fine and thin as paper. Layer after layer, turning from translucent to opaque over years and years and years. 

A delicate fragment of nature with a storied past. 

Inazuman poets gave the flower another name. Lycoris; red spider lily. As red as freshly spilled blood. The flower of the dead. Feared as much as one might fear a corpse, for was that not what the flower’s location signified? The final resting place of a fallen warrior, whose lifeforce seeped into the soil to feed these innocent flowers as they swayed in the wind of the storms. Could there be a more elegant gravestone?

There had been moments where Sara thought she might end up sleeping beneath the flowers, but in those moments the thought of the Shogun would allow her to break free from such reveries.

The Raiden Shogun’s highest ranking officer looked down at the freshly-picked dendobrium flower she held between her fingers. The vibrancy of color shone harsh against her pale skin, and the graceful blossoms made the calloused roughness of her palm show all the more clearly.

She drew in a harsh breath as it’s leaves brushed against her knuckles. 

Sara knew a deeper truth.

A peculiarity of the lyrcoris was that the blossoms and the leaves were never meant to meet. Once the blossoms wilted, only then did the leaves turn up. It was a flower that could never be considered complete, with one part always missing from the other.

Sara released a shaking sigh and slipped the flower between the pages of her map. To toss it away after plucking it from the soil seemed far too cruel a fate.

She stood atop a hill just outside Konda Village. At her back, she could feel Inazuma City, and the Raiden Shogun’s fortress, towering heavily behind her. Before her, even higher, rose the Grand Narukami Shrine, sitting in perfect stillness atop Mt. Yougou as it seemed to separate the sky into two clean halves of cloud-covered blue.

It wasn’t her usual time to visit the shrine, but she could think of nowhere else to go.

And she had to go somewhere.

Because something wasn’t right. That morning, waking before sunrise for her usual training, she had felt a tenuous lack of control as her muscles flexed to draw her bow, and even though she watched one arrow after the next hit the target she couldn’t shake off a descending feeling of emptiness. 

She made a simple meal, but it gave her no repose. She then decided to busy herself with reorganizing the furniture and items in her home, but all those comforting straight lines seemed suddenly disjointed where they never had before.

She even tried cleaning each one of her prized lacquerware statues, carved into the form of the Almighty Shogun. This had always brought her peace of mind.

But it seemed that none of her usual routines could pull her out of her own head.

The Vision Hunt Decree had ended, but there was still so much uncertainty within the city’s walls. The Kujou Clan, even the Tenryou Commission, would eventually face judgement. Would she stand with them, after everything they had kept from her? Even the thought of walking the halls of the Kujou Clanhouse seemed like a nightmare.

After all of that, what was left?

Sara glanced back towards Tenshukaku’s highest point.

Her Excellency, the Almighty Narukami Ogosho.

Sara thought of her, and for a moment her mood was lifted. No matter how things changed, there would always be the Raiden Shogun to guide Inazuma towards eternity. 

Except that the Shogun had locked herself away within her highest tower, and even Sara’s rank had not afforded her a visit.

Sara bit at the side of her lip as her mood plummeted back down.

So really, there was nothing. Nothing at all, within the whole of Inazuma City; the place she had called home for most of her life. The place she had sworn to protect with the will of a tengu’s blood flowing through her veins.

She wondered then if she should leave it all behind.

But how could she?

I’m sorry.

Again, for what seemed like the hundredth time, Sara heard the Raiden Shogun’s apology echoing deep within her skull. There was an uncharacteristic sadness at the edge of those words, and as forlorn as they were there was something about her tone that cut straight to Sara’s heart, sharp as the blade of a knife.

Surely, the shrine would give her an answer. It always had before. 

And so, Sara began her trek up Mt. Yougou, struggling to keep her fractious thoughts at bay. 

Sara’s athleticism carried her up the long and steep shrine steps. As she neared the top, her heart and mind became quiet, and she found a few moments of peace.

She walked into the Shrine's courtyard. The Sacred Sakura tree’s leaves seemed to glisten in the sun’s dying light. 

She reached the center of the empty courtyard before the towering tree and slowly closed her eyes.

Tell me where to go. What to do. Please. 

She thought the words then, as she had done many, many times before, and waited. In the silence, Sara felt the sun’s descent toward the horizon as the warmth of it diminished.

She could hear the wind blowing into the boughs of the tree, and the sound of blossoms fluttering in the breeze.

She opened her eyes. The sun was all but gone from the sky, with only the tiniest of slivers left peeking above the rim of the world. The setting sun painted the Shrine sharp bronzed ochre and vibrant umber, a prelude to indigo. 

On any other day, Sara would have found it beautiful. And perhaps it was, albeit painfully so. 

The wind blew again, and she watched with bated breath as she tracked the petal’s path. 

To her utter dismay, the blossoms fluttered back from whence she’d come; in the direction of Inazuma City. The Kujou Clan. The Tri-Commission. 

Back to the Almighty Shogun. 

“Is that really what you want?” Sara breathed desperately, her voice a harsh whisper against the transcendent evening’s breeze. Soon, the moon would rise, and everything would glow in rich, violet-lavender hues. 

“Concerning one’s self with the needs of the Sacred Sakura is the role of a shrine maiden.”

A playful voice rose into Sara’s ears from behind where she stood. She had heard that voice before, and recognized it. She sighed and turned towards the chief priestess of the Grand Narukami Shrine.

“And you certainly don’t look the part,” Yae added teasingly.

“Guuji,” Sara murmured as she made sure to keep her composure.

“General,” Yae replied cordially, and then she paused and raised a finger to tap at her chin, “should I still be calling you that?”

Sara frowned slightly.

“So you’ve heard.”

“So I have,” Yae responded simply. 

“Should I assume that had been your plan all along?”

Yae said nothing, but her silence said everything.

Sara drew in a deep breath. 

“Is this the reason for your visit?” Yae asked delicately.

“I visit the shrine every month,” Sara replied grudgingly as she crossed her arms before her chest. 

“You’re two weeks early,” Yae countered, without skipping a beat. 

Sara turned away, back towards the great tree. She could still see the blossoms, floating past her face. She felt some of them brush against her hair, soft against her exposed shoulder, futile as they slid down the hardened plates of her armor.

“I was hoping to find a way forward.”

“Sounds oddly familiar,” Yae mused, and then, “was the Sacred Sakura’s answer not to your liking?”

Sara frowned and dipped her head.

“I hardly think that matters. An answer is an answer; an order is an order. All I need to do is obey.”

The moon rose in the momentary silence. Long enough for Sara to hear her own words. She grit her teeth against them, and felt a fool for giving so much of herself away.

“If you refuse to listen even to yourself, you’ll always be wandering, Kujou Sara.”

And then, within the General’s own mind, there came a flash of light. Shooting like a star; arcing like lightning, sparking the embers of her heart aflame. The painful burn of feelings she had long kept covered; smoldering beneath unfed coal, ignited as easily as the striking of a match.

What had felt like devoted loyalty had transformed over time. Hidden somewhere even Sara couldn’t find, evolving beneath great pressure, like how a crystal forms. Shining brightly, but refracted beneath the waves of time. 

Her feelings for the Raiden Shogun. 

Faith Eternal.

But more than that—

Sara stared up at the tree. Had it given her this message?

She whirled round to face Yae. The Guuji regarded her with a knowing smile. 

“Sit with me for a while, won’t you?”

Yae took Sara to her study. It was a small room in the shrine’s main structure, with a big window that looked out toward Hazure Island. Away from the Kujou Clanhouse. Away from Inazuma. This, more than anything, seemed to put Sara somewhat at ease.

As they entered, Sara noticed that what she had first thought was very complex wallpaper was actually shelves upon shelves of books, covering almost every wall.

“Do you enjoy reading?” Yae asked conversationally as she sat upon a cushioned chair at the window and motioned for Sara to do the same.

“Not particularly,” Sara replied brusquely as she sat, stiff and upright, in her plushy seat.

“I’d rather be practicing my bowmanship.”

“Even now, that the war has ended?” Yae asked casually as she passed Sara a cup of some pinkish colored liquid.

“Even now,” Sara echoed, looking down at the cup in her hands.

“This is…?”

“Part drink,” Yae replied cheerily, “and part dessert. It’s called dango milk.”

Sara stared down at it.

“I’m not really one for sweets,” she trailed off.

“Well, there’s at least one difference,” Yae murmured musingly, more to herself than anything.

Sara frowned.

“Why are you—”

“I can tell you,” Yae cut her off, “why the Sacred Sakura’s petals fell back towards Inazuma.”

Sara slowly set the cup of dango milk aside, holding her breath as she waited for more. In the moonlight, Yae seemed practically luminescent, the pink of her hair glowing in brilliant tones to match her light-colored dress and her cool, pale-lavender eyes. 

Sara was suddenly self conscious of her own dark hair and sharp, golden-toned eye color. The violent black, red, and purple of her outfit stood out, and seemed to expose her further despite being her sturdiest set of armor.

And yet, in Yae’s presence, Sara had finally felt a modicum of tranquility. Despite their tenuous relationship and being sometimes at odds, it felt now that Yae was quite possibly the only person in all of Inazuma who might be able to help her.

"I can tell you, but I’m not sure that you’re ready to hear it, or that you'll believe me," Yae added.

“Tell me directly, or I’ll see myself out,” Sara threatened.

Yae nearly laughed.

“You’re so much like her; I can hardly believe it,” Yae exclaimed with amusement as she ran her fingers along her jaw in wonder. 

Sara stared at her, but she leaned closer, pulled in by Yae’s mysterious statement.

“Like who?”

But in her heart, she already knew the answer.

“Let me tell you her story,” Yae offered. “Then, I think, you’ll understand.”

“I’m listening.”

Yae smiled and took a sip of dango milk.

In the beginning, the two of them stood together. Two hearts, beating as one. Two minds, striving for a single, solitary goal. 

The Archon’s Throne.

That war had not been easy, but it had been necessary, and the two of them fought it in vastly different ways.

Makoto burned herself into relevance, glowing brightly at the center of every crowd, carving out her allegiances with the power of her blunt-edged sword, the Musou Isshin. It was said that she would balance the blade in her ungloved hands to prove that the edge was unsharpened; a true symbol of peace.

If a situation required a more aggressive stance, that was when Ei would rise, and the crimson moon would glisten upon any and all obstacles. Martial artist; master tactician, Ei’s military campaigns were incredibly successful, and her signature slash, the Musou no Hitotachi, was legend. 

After their seat at the Archon’s table had been secured, it only caused further separation of their godly duties, with Makoto pushed further into the limelight, and Ei dropping back behind shadow, ready and waiting to strike. So very different, yet they had never been closer in spirit.

They sought to protect Inazuma with their combined power, and for many years things remained more or less the same. Even as the world turned, and unmeasurable dusks followed uncounted dawns, there was still always the two of them, and the dream they shared.

The hope of a single moment, amplified to hundreds, thousands, millions of moments, all held together like lights on a string, reaching out beyond the end of time and back again, lighting the path forward. The way ahead. 

Progress.

But with great progress, there came an even greater loss.

“Let me go alone. The Musou no Hitotachi will be more than enough to end this.”

Sasayuri’s long hair swayed as they took Ei’s shoulder in one hand, gripping there with a mix of tenderness and resolve.

“When I became your General, I gave you my word. I promised to protect Inazuma. I don’t intend to break my promise.”

Sasayuri smiled willfully, and continued.

“Why would I be given such power, if not to protect those things that I hold dear?”

The words her dearest General spoke were words Ei half expected, but hearing them made it no easier to bear.

“I can go with you, then,” Ei offered, struggling to form her plea into a command.

“Our success rests on the strength of following the plan. I take my forces to Seirai. You take yours to Yashiyori.”

Ei sighed. Hearing Sasayuri remind her of her own plan seemed like a punishment. And usually, her warlord’s nature wouldn’t allow her this type of respite. In the middle of Inazuma’s greatest challenge, here she was… 

“Don’t worry,” Sasayuri’s voice flowed into the empty spaces of her mind, “today, we endure and prevail. And tomorrow, all of Inazuma will awaken from this nightmare.”

But when the next day came, the nightmare continued.

When Ei learned that Sasayuri had fallen, she sprang into action. There was no time for despair; no room for grief. All she could feel, thundering within the heart of her, was wrath and resolve. She had no more words. Engulfing Lightning would speak for her.

The Musou no Hitotachi she unleashed that day split the whole of Yashiori Island in two, and the ancient serpent god, Orobashi no Mikoto, was torn asunder by Ei’s unrelenting will.

That war had not been easy, nor had it been just.

There were other souls, forever lost within the grinding gears of progress. Each one seemed all the more real and devastatingly permanent as the nightmare stretched ever onwards.

But at the very least, Ei had Makoto’s spark of light to guide her. 

And so she walked within her shadow, guardian; protector, holding tight to the hope of another sunrise.

Until one day.

“I can’t lose you too,” Ei’s voice broke, dropping deep into dark waters like one solitary pebble.

“I don’t want to lose you either. Don’t you see? That’s why I need to go,” Makoto’s reply held the strength of a single moment. Ei had always listened to her, but this time. This time it was different.

“I don’t understand. Wasn’t all of this, everything we’ve done… wasn’t it all to pave the way towards eternity?” Ei looked into the eyes of her other half searchingly.

Makoto’s eyes softened.

“We’ve always had eternity,” Makoto replied gently.

“No. You can’t say that. Not with what I’ve lost. What I might lose, still.”

“I lost them, too,” Makoto murmured.

“Then why?” Ei’s voice rose like a sharp strike of lightning, but in the next moment her anger subsided.

Makoto looked down at the Musou Isshin, resting on its stand. The unsharpened blade shone violet in the moonlight.

“Without the present moment, there can be no eternity.”

Ei shook her head.

“I can’t let you go.”

“Please, Ei.” Makoto’s eyes, the same color as Ei’s own, looked back at her.

Ei could feel her hopes and dreams.

Who was she, to deny her?

“Then I’m coming with you. And I’m sharpening the Musou Isshin for you, too.”

Makoto smiled softly.

“Fair enough.”

But the catastrophe of Khaenri’ah was anything but fair. An unjust war in every sense of the word.

In the end, the sharpened blade of the Musou Isshin had not been enough to protect her.

Even Ei had failed. 

Beneath the shade of the Sacred Sakura, where Makoto’s transient existence would begin anew, Ei held within her hands their shared heart. 

“You and I have both witnessed the great loss that progress can bring,” she whispered.

There came no response. Her mind was so quiet now, without her other half to keep her company. She alone would step into the light of the Archon’s seat. She alone would chart Inazuma’s course. 

She, alone, would someday begin to feel the very permanent distortions that erosion would bring. That final loss. The loss of self.

The sakura blossoms fluttered to the ground at Ei’s feet. Their impermanence startled her. In a week or less they would wither away. She thought of everyone who had come before, each of their lives just as fragile and susceptible to unexpected change. 

Who would remain to honor their memory? 

Who would protect and preserve their dreams? 

And for how long?

“Eternity is the only way forward.” 

And then, she left the Electro Archon’s gnosis there at the foot of the tree.

Chapter Text

Sara followed the sacred sakura’s blossoms where they led her, and made her journey back to Inazuma City at the break of dawn. 

The shrine’s visit hadn’t given her the closure she had hoped for, and after her meeting with Yae she had been left with more questions than answers.

The knowledge Yae had shared with her, and what to do with those newfound truths, plagued Sara on every step of her return journey, hanging about her like a blanket of thick fog.

She passed the archery range just outside the city, and a memory took hold.

In the dead of night she had practiced her bowmanship. The unmoving calm seemed to center her. She could spend hours at the range, absorbed within her own focus as she hit mark after mark. 

So many hours. So many days. So many years. All of it for one thing and one thing only. To some day rise to the expectations that had been appointed to her.

From a young age, her path had been set, and her peers had set her apart. She, with tengu blood and strength of will, was unique. Different. In her accepted isolation she strove for but a single goal. To become General and carry out that which must be done to secure eternity. 

Sara’s memory faded, and finally she reached her dwelling. She stepped inside and let her pack drop to the floor. Everything was as neatly placed and perfectly spotless as it had been when she’d left.

She entered the bedroom. Her dueling sword was resting in its place at the wall opposite her bed. As she approached it, the glinting shine of it was covered by her shadow. 

She thought of the last time she had used that sword.

That foolhardy swordsman had seemed far too self-assured, marching right up to Tenshukaku’s gates and making his demands. He, like every other Inazuman, had long been told the stories of the Musou no Hitotachi’s power. He, unlike all the others, wanted a taste. To willingly submit one’s self to the Archon’s divine strike seemed like a waste to Sara.

He had been, after all, a capable swordsman. 

But Sara had the edge. 

If she lost there, it was she who would face divine punishment, and her Vision would be just another graying decoration upon the Statue of the Omnipresent God. It was only by living that she could assist the Shogun. Only by persevering, only through prevailing. From one conquest to the next, for as long as she could; for as long as the Almighty Shogun allowed her to.

There was no alternative.

Sara had stilled her hand before the killing blow. Taking one final look at him, and the vibrantly violet glow of his vision, Sara could feel Inazuma’s loss. He would have made a fine warrior, if only he, like Sara, had kept his curiosity in check. 

But a duel was not an emotional affair, it was a thing of rule and regulation. 

And everyone knew what would come next.

After Sara had won, she had tentatively glanced back in the Shogun’s direction. She searched her leader’s face for acknowledgement and approval; hating herself for needing it at all.

But the Shogun, ever a pillar of strictest reservation, had only given her the slightest of nods. 

Still, even that felt like enough.

It had to be.

And then, the Musou no Hitotachi descended over the courtyard, and for a moment Sara’s heart jumped up into her throat, pounding hard and fast. The Musou Isshin, shining with the reflection of arcing bolts of light, seemed to glow in the Raiden Shogun’s hands. 

Miraculous, that a blade so full of life could so easily negate it.

Sara opened her eyes. She was still in her bedroom, standing before her mounted sword.

She turned, and all at once the sight of the statue overtook her. Her favorite of her covetous collection of five; the one that she had set into the wall above her bed’s headboard. The idea of the Almighty Shogun watching over her as she slept had always comforted her.

But now…

She leapt onto the bed and pulled the statue from its resting place. Holding it within her hands, she stared down into the cool, lacquered wood, polished to perfection. The Shogun’s visage was one of distant tranquility. 

How many times had she looked upon this statue with devotion? 

With adoration. 

It had been just like that first time, hadn’t it?

“Almighty Shogun.”

Sara’s voice nearly shook with a mixture of excitement and nervousness. She had dreamed of this. All her effort, leading towards this one perfect moment. 

Hastily, she held a bag of captured Visions up with one hand and bowed her head with reverence. 

“The Visions from the resistance forces at Nazuchi Beach, Your Excellency.”

She drew in a sharp breath as her eyes fluttered closed and she made to bow her head.

“You have done well.” 

The Shogun’s recognition made Sara’s heart soar. She held her breath as the Shogun approached her, and took the bag of Visions from her hand. 

“This is a great stride towards eternity.”

Sara raised her eyes, watching as the Shogun reached inside the bag and pulled out a single Vision, holding the dull grey orb within her fingers. It held no reflection; no light.

“Promotion to General granted. Effective immediately,” the Shogun spoke in her most official tone. 

“Your Excellency--!” Sara started, and then she forced her voice to calm. 

“Thank you,” she added with an honest seriousness as she bowed her head. 

“I trust you will see to preserving Inazuma’s eternity.”

“Of course,” Sara began, and then she raised a hand to her pounding heart. 

“I promise to protect Inazuma,” she spoke with solemn devotion as she rose to her full height, “and I do not intend to break my promise.”

The Raiden Shogun paused, as if the turning cogs of her own thoughts had been halted.

Her eyes glowed a vivid lavendar-violet, and Sara felt her heart fluttering in her chest as the Raiden Shogun seemed to really, truly look at her, in a way she had not done before.

“Kujou Sara, is it?” She asked in a subtle change of tone. Sara’s ears perked up as she heard the languid lightening of voice, clear as a morning bell. 

“Yes,” Sara replied. “Ward of the Kujou Clan.”

There came a pause.

“I see,” the Shogun replied simply. 

And then, the glow in her eyes rippled to fade, falling to darker purple hues, and the commanding tone returned.

“Dismissed.”

At the time, Sara had thought nothing of it. She was far too wrapped up in her promotion, and meeting with the Shogun in an official capacity for the first time.

Sara held the statue before her, and lifted one hand up. Her fingertips brushed the polished face. She ran her index finger across the statue’s jaw; up along her cheek. The statue stared up at her in deafening silence.

The things Yae had said; the story she told. The truth about the Raiden Shogun. 

The truth about Ei.

Ei. 

The true Raiden Shogun, whose consciousness remained hidden away. 

It hardly seemed more than mere fantasy. 

Sara’s knuckles brushed against the statue’s lips, and all at once Sara remembered herself, and realized what she had been doing. She tore her hand away from the lifeless statue and set it quickly back upon the shelf. 

She bit hard at the side of her lip, golden eyes narrowing as she willed away the fiery surge of emotion that welled up within her. 

Then, she grabbed her pack and stormed back out into the streets. 

Sara had always found the sight of Tenshukaku at sunset beautiful, but this time she willfully ignored her surroundings. The castle guards thought better of barring her passage, having experienced what a determined Sara could do. 

At the fortress's front door she stopped, and pulled out a small token.

“This,” Yae had said, placing it into the palm of her hand, “will grant you entry to Tenshukaku, should you wish it.”

Sara pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes as the guards stared at her. 

The doors swung slowly open.

And then she was inside. 

The charred cinder and melted flurries of snow from her last visit had been cleared away, and Tenshukaku looked as much like it always had. 

There, at the center of the room, the Raiden Shogun paced. Sara watched for a moment as the Shogun strode back and forth with languid, unhurried steps. 

“Your Excellency.”

The Shogun came to a sudden stop, and turned her head in Sara’s direction.

“General,” she stated factually, and then, “I don’t recall giving you, or anyone else, permission to see me.”

Sara took in a deep breath and walked towards the center of the room.

“You’re right,” she said. “I’m not supposed to be here.”

The Shogun tilted her head to one side, and a strand of her indigo-colored hair fell across her face. She lifted her gloved hand to push it back behind her ear, and then she touched her temple. She looked… discordant. 

“Then why are you here?” The Shogun asked in a most discerning tone. In another life, Sara might have jumped at those words and hurried on her way.

But now…

“I came to see you,” she spoke, voice straining to calmness.

The Shogun’s brows knitted together as a frown creased her face. 

“And here I stand,” the Shogun reprimanded, “if that was all, then you may see yourself out.”

Sara took in a deep breath.

“The real you.”

The Shogun stared at her, rubbing idly at her temple the way one might do under duress. Lightly, she shook her head.

“What are you saying?”

“I need to know if...”

But at that moment, Sara’s resolve dimmed, and she didn't know the right words to say, or how to continue.

“You’re speaking nonsense, General.”

Sara shook her head. It was just as Yae had told her.

“I know the truth!” Her voice rose, but pleadingly so. 

“All I need you to know is how to help me achieve eternity,” the Shogun countered.

Sara let out a gasping breath of air, as if someone had sent their fist into her stomach.

Whoever Ei was, wherever she rested, she surely was not in this present moment. 

As unattainable as a holding onto a snowflake. As unreachable as lightning, high overhead, that never joins to meet the solid earth. Just as the dendobrium’s leaves might always be wishing to see their paired blossoms, Sara wished she could see the real Shogun. If only for a moment. Just this once. 

But how?

“Inazuma still needs you, General,” the Shogun stated, as easily as one might state a fact. She crossed her arms before her chest. 

“I still need you,” the Shogun added, just as solemnly commanding. 

If Sara had heard those words before, how much they would have meant.

“I promised you that, didn’t I,” Sara breathed quietly as her heart sank.

“I still remember,” the Shogun replied. “There is nothing that is beyond my grasp.”

Sara looked down at her boots. There was a slight disjointed wateriness about them that startled her until she realized why.

“Can I just ask one last thing?” Sara’s voice shook. 

“Of course.”

“Why did you say you were sorry?”

There was a pause. It lasted longer than Sara thought she could endure, but when the Shogun spoke again her tone had changed, warming where she had once been chill; tender where she had once been firm. And again, there was a subtle change to the color and intensity of her eyes.

“Do you mean that night?” the Shogun asked curiously.

Sara caught herself staring. 

“Yes,” Sara hastily replied, “the one where the Snezhnayan diplomat… interrupted our discussion. The night you lifted the Vision Hunt Decree.”

The Raiden Shogun looked away. Perhaps she was remembering that night, just as Sara was.

And yet, the Raiden Shogun’s silence seemed absolute, so Sara continued to fill up the empty silence that hung between them.

“I let my guard down, and the woman from Snezhnaya struck me. Just before I lost consciousness, I heard your voice. Your apology.”

“I did not expect you to hear me,” the Raiden Shogun murmured with undertones of awe.

Sara grit her teeth against a surging feeling of confusion.

“Well, I did,” she muttered, “and I can’t stop thinking about it.”

The Raiden Shogun looked at her, across the great hall. There was an emotion hidden within her expression that Sara couldn’t make out.

“You’ve changed,” the Shogun said simply; as if within a moment of deep reflection.

“Of course I’ve changed!” Sara’s voice rose uncontrollably. “Everything’s changed!”

Sara reached across to hold her elbow with her gloved hand to stop from shaking. She tore her gaze away, and let her eyes fall closed.

“I’m sorry, Your Excellency. That was unbecoming of me. I don’t mean to argue.”

It’s just that I don’t know what to do with myself. 

Sara grit her teeth against her own thought.

There was another drawn out silence.

“I’ve been unfair to you, Sara,” the Shogun’s voice echoed into the hall.

Sara opened her eyes. 

“No, Your Excellency, I--”

“You have given everything for eternity,” the Shogun's voice cut Sara’s words short as she continued. 

“I think it’s time you asked for something in return. Trust me when I say I've learned this from experience,” there was an almost teasing, melodic quality to the Shogun's voice.

Sara drew in a harsh breath. 

“I require nothing,” Sara replied resolutely, “serving as your General has been enough.”

“Has been,” the Shogun observed gently, “But you said it yourself, didn’t you? Everything has changed. And you along with it.”

Sara turned towards her, arms dropping to her sides.

“You said you wanted to know the real Shogun. I can only assume a certain fox envoy let you in on my secret.”

Sara’s neck flushed a deep pink.

“Yes,” Sara admitted, “but I didn’t ask her to.”

“And yet, Miko always seems to say exactly what one needs to hear.”

Sara was again at a loss for words.

“Here. Let me show you."

And before Sara could respond or react, the whole of Tenshukaku’s throne room slipped into broken fragments of deepest black.

Chapter Text

The lotus is a flowering plant native to Liyue that grows in pairs; one fragrant and the other bitter. The fragrant seed head has medicinal and culinary uses. The bitter flower, on the other hand, is often overlooked.

Makoto brought a lotus flower back to Tenshukaku once. She had set it in a ceramic vase, and I had watched, day after day, as the flower began to wither away. 

“It’s sad to see it go like this,” I had said.

And she, smilingly, teased: “Would you rather I had not brought it back at all?”

At the time, I had brooded over how to reply. 

Now, after everything that has taken place, I think I know my answer.

Still, I can’t help being impressed by the lotus. That such an immaculate flower could grow from muddy waters is a testament to the ability of all living things to become detached. 

To overcome desire, and consequently, suffering. 

No thought.

To be unstained by one’s thoughts. To sever oneself from memory, expectation, feeling.

No mind.

The mind is like muddy water. To have clarity, one must be still. Only then can one see past the surface.

Eternity.

With stillness there would be no motion. With no motion, there would be no loss. All would remain the same. And then, there would be no more suffering.

But in the still waters of my mind, I had grown something bitter.

Indifference. 

It had taken the wishes of all of Inazuma to break into my Euthymia and show me another perspective.

Equanimity.

And just like that, the definition of Eternity had changed, and I along with it.

In any other scenario, Sara would have immediately been on her guard, going into high alert as soon as the darkness descended upon her.

But instead, she felt entirely at ease.

As she opened her eyes, she knew immediately that she was in Inazuma no longer, and though the scenery was unfamiliar to her, she felt strangely comfortable. Lighter than air; as if her body were floating on a cloud.

She glanced down at herself. Her rough hands; her armor, her shoulder-length strands of dark hair.

Then, she lifted her gaze to look all around her. She stood at the edge of a great circle where sculpted geometric spirals ran all along the sand. Around the outskirts of the circle were hills, dotted with weathered torii gates, reaching up from the ground at various heights as if they had sunk into the sand over eons. 

Beyond those solemn gates was the horizon, and what felt like an eternal sunrise of tender pinks and creamy oranges. And there, far away and above, shined the tiniest points of stars; an entire constellation sparkling behind thinning clouds.

“What... happened?”

It was the first thought that came to mind, and it spilled from Sara’s lips before she had a chance to think further. 

Before a response was given to her, she noticed the only other person dwelling within that tranquil domain. The form of the Raiden Shogun had been floating a few feet above the sand, with one leg crossed at the knee of the other. Her hands rested palm up, fingers curled upwards into a perfect lotus position. 

Sara watched as the Raiden Shogun lifted her head, and her closed eyes slowly opened.

But this wasn’t the Raiden Shogun that Sara was familiar with.

This had to be Ei.

“You showed me that which I seem to be inexplicably drawn to in these strangely unpredictable times. And I, having been so drawn, invited you to my plane.”

Ei’s airy, melodic voice travelled the distance between them, so very different from the Shogun’s typical bluntness.

“You make it sound so simple,” Sara breathed in awe.

Ei’s lips curved into a subtle smile. She was looking at Sara directly, and her divine gaze was like nothing Sara had ever felt before. Sara’s heart skipped a beat, and her throat went dry. Suddenly, she had no idea what to say.

“Or,” Ei continued musingly, “to put it another way, your own words and actions, being as unexpected as they were, intrigued me.”

“My own words and actions…” Sara echoed, glancing around again at the sand dunes, the torii gates, the breathtakingly beautiful sunrise.

It occurred to Sara then that this was the closest she had ever been to the person who had filled the horizon of her entire world; and with a pang of dread she realized that this may be the only time she would ever be in this place again.

“Logically speaking,” Ei pondered, “it is your own wish that brought you here, is it not?”

“I wanted to see the real Shogun. The real… you.” Sara’s voice caught in her throat.

“And so you have, though it is not so much seeing as it is feeling, in a plane such as this.”

“The Plane of Euthymia,” Sara murmured in understanding, remembering what Yae had told her.

“Honestly, Miko didn’t need to give it all away, did she?” Ei pouted teasingly.

Sara raised her thin, dark brows as she looked at her across the circle.

“Did you want to explain it yourself?” Sara asked curiously.

Ei reached up to idly play with a floating strand of her indigo hair.

“It’s not often that I can attest to my own cleverness. And this plane, of all my campaigns, has to be the cleverest. Why shouldn’t I want to brag?”

Sara raised her eyebrows. If Ei wanted commendations, she could certainly oblige.

“To put one’s own consciousness into an object... I can hardly imagine how difficult it must have been. Within the Musou Isshin, nonetheless,” Sara breathed.

“There is no place more fitting,” Ei replied quietly.

The story of Ei’s past, and all she had lost, shot through Sara’s heart like a spike of ice.

She wanted to say something comforting, or meaningful, but she had no idea what to say to Ei, who had seen and lived through everything one could possibly imagine already. She wondered, too, if Ei realized just how much Yae had told her. Bringing Ei's storied past up out of nowhere felt… undeserved.

“Do you choose what it looks like inside?” Sara asked, in an effort to steer the conversation towards something lighter. 

“Yes,” Ei replied, “and no. Partly, it is of my own design, and partly it is based on what happens around and within me. This may be a plane upon which only consciousness dwells, but it is my own will that drives and sustains it.”

Then, very slowly and languidly, Ei lifted her crossed leg from where it rested, and she floated down to stand upon the sand. Sara couldn’t help but feel mesmerized. Ei moved in ways Sara had never seen the Shogun move before.

“But enough about the Plane of Euthymia,” Ei added as she began to walk forward, towards Sara, each step creating a footprint in the untouched sand.

“What I really want to talk about,” her voice strengthened, and then softened once again, “is you.”

Sara sucked in a harsh breath.

“Me?”

A smile played upon Ei’s lips.

“You asked me why I apologized,” Ei murmured. She was only feet from Sara now, and though Sara tried to remind herself that this was merely a plane of consciousness, her presence before Sara had never felt more tangible. 

“Y-yes,” Sara stuttered, resolving to look Ei in the eyes. 

“I felt that I had failed you.”

“Failed?” Sara questioned with a surprised widening of her golden eyes.

“You came to me with news of the Tenryou Commission’s betrayal and the Fatui’s involvement in the war. Two things that I had been well aware of, and yet had caused you an incredible amount of suffering.”

Ei took another step towards her. If she reached out her hand, she would have been able to touch her. She was that close. Sara tried to calm her breathing; worried that Ei might hear the rapid-fire beating of her heart.

“I apologized,” Ei’s voice lowered to a near whisper, “because I hadn’t been able to protect you. I was too absorbed in trying to protect something that only I could see.”

“I don’t... need protecting,” Sara responded flatly, refusing to meet Ei’s gaze.

“You’re not the first General to say that to me,” Ei replied simply.

There was a silence that hung between them, and as unchanging as the sunrise was, it was impossible to tell how many moments passed. 

“So all this time,” Sara murmured as she looked at the vast and expansive horizon, “you were here.”

“All this time and more,” Ei added.

“I feel foolish,” Sara sighed, turning her head away. 

“You shouldn’t,” Ei replied steadily, “you were only doing what was asked of you. You surpassed the Shogun’s expectations, and never once did you falter.”

“Are you saying I should be proud?” Sara asked then, emotions surging within her. “Proud to have spent my entire life in the dark? Struggling between what felt right and what had to be done. And what do I have to show for it, after everything that has happened?”

Sara’s eyes narrowed as she stared down at the sand. A part of her told her to keep her struggles inside, but another part was goading her to continue. 

Ei pondered Sara’s statement for a moment. 

“You have yourself, and you have your future.”

“My future is with the Tenryou Commission, as General of your army,” Sara responded automatically, trying to keep the bitterness from reflecting in her tone.

“It doesn’t have to be,” Ei replied with a smile.

Sara raised her eyes from the ground to look back at her.

“That’s not an option. I’m bound--”

“I’m prepared to dissolve your oath. You could leave the Tenryou Commission and the Kujou Clan, if you so choose. Even if only for a period of time."

Ei raised her hand, palm up. Sara watched as Ei subtly twirled her fingers, and out of nothing she formed the blossom of a flower. White, with pink tips, each petal seemed to be reaching upward in symmetry. Sara did not know the name of this flower, but she had a sudden desperate wish to learn it.

"There are many beautiful and fantastic experiences, there at our fingertips," Ei murmured, shifting her hand so that the flower floated a few inches above her palm, "so long as we accept that the moment and the chance of it are fleeting."

Then, gently, she closed her fingers, and the flower's form dematerialized into a flowing breeze of glistening beads of light. Sara's heart ached at the display, and Ei's words.

"Besides," Ei continued, "after everything you’ve sacrificed, you certainly deserve a say in what comes next.”

Sara’s mind worked hard to come to terms with the implications. Leave the Tenryou Commission? Where would she go? What would she do? The possibilities seemed to expand towards the infinite.

But none of those paths were the one she had resolved to stay. To walk away from everything she had worked for… 

And yet there, at her core, was an electric spark of excitement.

“I need time to think this through,” Sara murmured, straining to keep her composure.

“Understandable,” Ei replied, “but know this: If your heart isn’t set, don't pretend that it is.”

Sara tried to understand her meaning, nodding once. 

“I will give you my answer tomorrow, Raiden Shogun.”

“Please,” Ei replied beseechingly as she reached out her hand, fingers outstretched, “call me Ei.”

“...Ei,” Sara echoed as she tentatively reached her own hand up to take Ei’s, knowing she was supposed to, but unsure as to why. She looked into Ei’s eye searchingly, hoping that she would find answers there, but there was only breathtaking beauty, and the moment her fingers touched Ei’s palm, the Plane of Euthymia shattered miraculously into pieces of black glass.

Chapter Text

The windflower is a rare and beautiful Inazuman wild flower that closes at night and opens up at daybreak. This delicate, purple flower is thought to be so fragile as to be blown open by the wind, blowing away any dead petals in the process. It is said that these flowers are quite rare, having somehow survived a great disaster that befell an ancient tribe that lived upon the rocky mountain that is now called Seirai Island.

There is one such windflower that rests, perfectly preserved, atop Ei’s bedside table, and if one were to get close enough, the faint, echoing sound of crackling thunder would mix with the startling cry of some great bird. 

Sara stood atop the broken peaks of Amakumo. 

The wind whipped at her face and blew her hair behind her, snarling against her long, outstretched wings. Black feathers fluttered into the stormy purple sky that loomed all around her.

Something blew through the air and settled against her geta. She glanced down to see a large, violet feather. She bent over to pick it up, and when she rose, a young lad was standing at a distance before her, with his back to the cliff’s edge. 

Sara’s eyes widened. One step backwards, and the boy would fall. 

She clutched at the violet pinion, and reached her free hand towards him.

“Come away from the edge,” she called against a sudden rush of wind.

“You have wings too,” the boy spoke with an otherworldly timbre, “just like that ancient being of purple thunder and rain.”

“What?”

“My tribe revered the Thunderbird, once,” the boy’s voice was a cryptic sort of melody, “but none are left now to worship.”

“The Thunderbird?” Sara repeated. She had heard the old stories about the giant, violet bird of pure lightning. But hadn’t the Raiden Shogun slain this obstacle to progress long ago?

“You would do well to beware the gaze of the divine, Kujou Sara.”

Sara felt as if the wind had been knocked from her lungs.

“Who are you, and how do you know my name?” She demanded.

“An hourglass of amethyst and amber gold allows for the passage of time.”

The boy raised his arms out to his side and looked up at the darkened sky.

“When the last grain of sand has fallen, will you choose to sacrifice your song, as I have?”

And just as Sara stepped forward to reach out for him, the boy stepped backward and fell from the ledge. Sara called out, but in an instant there was a clashing of thunder and arcs of lightning, loud enough to drown out her voice. The feather slipped from her grasp, following the boy past the rocky outcropping. 

And from below, an enormous violet-colored bird rose. The Thunderbird. It flapped it’s massive wings until it hovered above where Sara stood.

Sara reached frantically back behind her for her bow. Gone. Her hand darted for her sword. Gone. Even the knife she kept tied to her belt was nowhere to be found.

“You may lack the trappings,” a voice, the Thunderbird’s, bellowed in a monstrously low register, “but I see you all the same, Tengu General.”

“I have no qualms with you!” Sara yelled desperately. 

“Are we not alike, we beings of great power, violence, rage and regret. Meet me in battle and let us tear these peaks asunder!” The Thunderbird’s invitation crackled like electricity in the air between them.

And then, miraculously, her weapons appeared within her hands. She could feel the arcing flow of electro bouncing through her veins. It was as if her power had grown tenfold.

But something just didn’t feel right.

And then, she remembered Ei’s words from within the Plane of Euthymia. 

If your heart isn’t set, don’t pretend that it is.

“No,” Sara resolved, golden eyes narrowing as she sheathed her sword and racked her bow, standing her ground, albeit empty-handed.  

“I will not fight you.”

And then, there was a horrible screech, as if the bird had learned to roar. Sara covered her ears with her hands, and struggled to keep her eyes open against a blast of elemental energy. She watched as the Thunderbird glowed a bright violet.

And then, Sara startled awake.

She pushed herself to sit up in her bed, breathing hard as a bead of sweat dripped from her brow. 

A nightmare.

She took in a deep breath and laid back against the pillows, looking up at the wooden ceiling of her bedroom. She could hear songbirds chirping innocently outside. The sun had long since risen. How long had she slept?

She had hoped that a restful sleep might allow her to come closer to a decision. Instead, the strange visions that had played out in her slumbering mind seemed unshakeable. She couldn’t stop thinking of the boy. His words.

And the Thunderbird.

She picked through the bits and pieces of knowledge she had in her mind on that topic. 

Long ago, the Thunderbird had razed an ancient mountain tribe. Many years later, the Raiden Shogun had hunted and slain it, sealing its remaining power within Seirai Island. 

Seirai Island.

Those distant, scattered islands. That broken peak. And the eternal storm that raged above it all. The thought of that place seemed to fill Sara with some undetermined emotion. Something like hope and dread mixed into one. 

I see you all the same, General.

The voice of the Thunderbird struck her. 

Are we not alike?

“No,” Sara breathed out loud. Her own hoarse voice startled her. 

She rolled out of bed. Sunlight hit her muscled abs as she raised her arms over her head to stretch. She rolled her shoulders and closed her eyes.

The silhouette of the ghostly boy from her dream appeared in her mind.

Her eyes snapped open, and she glanced around, pausing at the lacquered statue of the Raiden Shogun resting above her headboard.

She thought back to the day before and the time she had spent within the Plane of Euthymia. She thought of Ei’s kind eyes. The flower in her hand. Her smile.

She realized at that moment that no matter her decision, Ei would respect and honor Sara's wishes. 

Then, out of nowhere, Sara smiled. She didn’t even realize she was smiling at first, until it dawned on her that the crinkling of her eyes and the pull of her lips was something she hadn’t felt in… how long?

Too long.

An answer had come easily, after all.

“I’m back,” Sara’s voice echoed in Tenshukaku’s great hall.

“I know not why,” the Shogun drawled. She was still there, still pacing, still just as unemotional as the day that Sara had met her. “Didn’t I say that I would receive no visitors?”

Sara pursed her lips.

“Uh,” Sara blurted, “...Ei?”

“Who?” 

The Shogun frowned at her, lifting a hand to rub at her temple. 

“I…” Sara struggled. 

“Ah,” Ei spoke, voice sliding into that subtly distinct tone that Sara had become so fond of as her presence took hold of the Shogun’s form, “You’re back.”

Sara breathed a sigh of relief.

“I wonder if I’ll ever get used to that.”

Ei laughed lightly. 

“I’m sorry. The Shogun’s programming prevents her from fully understanding her situation. I can only imagine how startling it must be to you.”

“No, no,” Sara managed, “I didn’t mean to complain.”

She paused, watching as Ei ran a powerfully delicate hand to smooth her hair.

“In any case, I’m glad it’s you,” Sara confessed, cheeks warming as it suddenly took every ounce of will for her to hold Ei’s gaze.

Ei reached up to play with a strand of her hair.

“So am I,” she murmured.

Sara tilted her head, and her short hair brushed her shoulder as she pondered Ei’s reply. She wondered with a sudden pang of self conscious dread if she had said something foolish. Her throat worked as she swallowed roughly.

“I’ve made my decision,” she began solemnly.

“I’m glad to hear that,” Ei replied. 

There was a pause. Sara took a deep breath.

“I’d like to take some time for myself,” Sara continued, “I need a reprieve from my usual routine.”

“Of course,” Ei replied gently.

“I’m… I’ll still be available, if you--” Sara swallowed hard, “if the Tenryou Commission has need of me.” 

“I’ll see to it that you remain unbothered unless absolutely necessary,” Ei replied easily.

And then.

“Where will you go? Or have you thought that far ahead?”

Sara looked determined.

“Seirai Island.”

There was a momentary pause. Ei’s hand had dropped suddenly to her side.

“Seirai Island?” Ei echoed.

“I had a dream,” Sara confessed. “Last night. Too puzzling to set aside. I think I’m meant to go there.”

“I see,” Ei replied vaguely, “will you be leaving soon?”

“Today,” Sara confirmed, blushing at the awkward route this conversation seemed to be taking. She couldn’t tell if Ei cared at all about what she had said. She reprimanded herself for wanting to believe that Ei would be more affected. 

But still…

“You’re… sure this is okay?” Sara asked. 

“Take all the time you need,” Ei replied with a smile.

A smile that Sara couldn't help but return. Twice in one day. Possibly a new record.

“Thank you.”

“Of course.”

It seemed then that the conversation had ended, but still the pair looked at each other across Tenshukaku’s hall. It felt like there was too much left unsaid, but neither of them seemed to know the way forward. 

“Be well, Sara,” Ei said in finality. 

At first, Sara thought to salute, but she caught herself and decided to simply nod instead. 

After that, she made preparations for her journey.

“It’s quite rare to see you beyond Tenshukaku’s gates.”

Yae’s voice permeated her study in the main building of the Narukami Shrine, atop the peak of Mt. Yougou. The setting sun painted the entire room in hues of fading orange. There was a stillness in the air, where specks of dust glinted in the light as they hung suspended in the space between the Shrine’s Priestess and her visitor.

“What's this all about then, Ei?” Yae continued, sculpting her query into a thing of gentle, curious beauty as she sat comfortably in her chair.

Ei turned her gaze away from the view that the window afforded her, and met Yae’s gaze. Her expression was solemn, but one corner of her lips curved up as she spoke.

“You should already know, my dear fox envoy,” Ei replied, picking her words carefully and meaningfully as she spoke, “as I believe it is you who meddled, yet again, in my affairs.”

Yae made a show of raising her brows in mock surprise.

“An affair? So that’s what you’re calling it now?” 

Ei bit her lip before she forced a reprimanding frown. 

“I didn’t come here for you to tease me,” she scolded quietly, and then she confessed.

“I need advice."

“Concerning?”

“A certain tengu ex-general.”

Yae made a soft hmming sound and sat back in her chair.

“And you believe my involvement has led to this?”

“I know it has,” Ei riposted. 

Yae’s smile grew wider.

“Things are moving rather quicker than I’d imagined.”

Ei released an exasperated sigh.

“This is the second time you’ve given my secret away,” Ei said then, looking at Yae more seriously. “Why?”

Yae pondered the question.

“In the case of the Traveller, we both know I had my own agenda,” Yae began.

Ei crossed her toned arms before her chest as she listened.

“In the case of Kujou Sara,” Yae mused, noticing out of the corner of her eye that Ei had drawn in a breath at the mention of her name, “I suppose I did that entirely out of the goodness of my heart. For her, and for you.”

“For me?” Ei questioned in surprise.

Yae ran her fingers along the rim of the porcelain cup she held in her hands.

“Powerful feelings smolder deep within her tender heart. Don’t you, who have spent so much time alone, deserve such warmth?”

Ei’s hands tightened around her elbows, and she held herself like that as her voice became more subdued and constrained.

“Whatever feelings she might be harboring would certainly be directed at the Shogun, don’t you think? She hardly knows… me.”

“And yet,” Yae countered easily, “after she learned your secret, she sought you out. And in leaving her post, is she not, first and foremost, leaving the Shogun?”

Ei thought hard about Yae's words, eyes narrowing as a tiny, struggling glimmer of hope pulsed in her chest. Her eyes softened at the thought of Sara, not the General, or the Kujou clan's ward, but just… Sara.

But then, her serious expression returned.

“And yet, she leaves tonight. For Seirai Island.”

Ei’s statement caught Yae off guard. A particularly difficult thing to do. Ei watched as her familiar processed this new piece of information.

“That’s... unexpected,” Yae managed, giving Ei a meaningful glance.

“For once, we seem to agree,” Ei murmured.

They sat in silence for a moment, watching as the sun continued to fall slowly towards the horizon.

Then, Ei lifted her cup and took a sip of the dango milk that Yae had poured for her earlier.

“I offered her some of that, when she came here,” Yae murmured idly as she watched Ei drink.

“Did she enjoy it?” Ei asked curiously.

“She refused it.”

There was a pause as Ei lowered her eyes.

“I see.”

“But who knows,” Yae continued casually, “if you had been the one to ask her, it’s possible that she would have given it a try.”

“That necessitates asking in the first place,” Ei conjectured stoically. 

“It certainly does,” Yae offered with a smile.

By the time Sara was ready to board the boat that would take her to Seirai Island, night had already fallen. 

She had packed lightly, and eaten a sparse meal before embarking, making sure not to look back at Inazuma City, lit up by the glow of lanterns behind her as she made her way to the dock.

As the vessel set sail, Sara strode to the ship’s aft. She had hoped to find a quiet area to rest her legs. The back part of the ship had fairy lights strung along the overhang and down towards the stern. The warm light of them gave the space a cozy, welcoming sort of feel.

She walked to the railing at the end of the ship and breathed in the fresh seabreeze. 

And just as Sara’s mind was about to turn towards Ei, and she could feel the pang of regret for leaving, and began to wonder what could have been, a very recognizable voice floated into Sara’s ears.

“There you are.”

With her heart suddenly pounding, Sara pushed herself off the railing and spun round.

Standing there before her was...

“Ei?” Sara nearly yelled.

Sara’s eyes widened. It wasn’t an illusion. She was really there.

But why?

Chapter Text

“You’re not the only one with business in Seirai.”

Sara stood at the aft of the vessel where, only a moment before, she had been alone. Now, the only person in the whole of Teyvat who she would have least expected to appear before her had appeared around the corner.

Sara watched as Ei walked right up alongside her, and set down a traveling pack of her own on the wooden deck.

Waves crashed against the ship’s hull, and Sara realized how long she had been staring. She shook her head and formed an expression she hoped would look like composure.

“I hadn’t realized,” She managed to reply as her mind worked through this very unexpected situation. Ei hadn’t mentioned any of this, back in Tenshukaku, but it didn’t feel right to ask her why. 

“I’m lucky to have found the correct dock before the vessel set sail,” Ei murmured as she looked around the aft of the boat, where small lights had been strung above the wooden deck. She smiled, as one might when finding their surroundings quaint.

“Do you… usually travel by boat?” Sara asked, trying to sound as casual as she could.

Ei turned to look at the cloudy night’s sky reflected in the churning waters behind the boat as she pondered the question.

“Usually? I suppose I might have flown. Or teleported. But that would have been a long time ago, and ships weren’t as advanced as they are now.”

Sara managed a nod, even as she felt as far from understanding this situation as she possibly could be.

“And besides, going alone didn’t sound quite as interesting as, well…” Ei paused and looked up at the sky directly, “I thought I would make a good traveling companion for you.”

Then, Ei turned her gaze towards Sara, and the gentle light lit her face in warm, glowing tones.

“That is, if you’ll have me.”

Sara stared at her, mouth nearly dropping open.

“Of course,” Sara confessed hastily, “I would be honored.”

“You’re quite sure?” Ei asked, tearing her gaze away, up towards the ivory sliver of moon that hung low in the sky. 

Sara followed Ei’s gaze, and that shimmering fraction of a moon suddenly felt like the glimmering bit of hope she felt in her heart. She couldn’t deny that something like this very scenario had been one of her fantasies. But it had seemed so impossibly far-fetched. 

“I’m sure,” Sara nearly whispered, as if her words or even the air in her lungs might somehow throw something about this perfect situation off. As if it were only in the next moment that she would do something that would make Ei realize that she had made a mistake, and leave her alone right then and there.

“I know you were hoping to get away from things,” Ei continued, voice softening, “And I’m not so imperceptive as to think that one of those things might have been… me.”

“No!” Sara exclaimed, albeit too loudly. Her raised voice had startled a fish, causing it to jump out of the water. She could feel her blush growing, and was thankful that Ei had not reacted to her outburst. Ei seemed to be standing quite still, as if she were listening with all her might. 

“I mean, yes,” Sara continued more gently, trying to calm herself, “Even if I had wished to take a break from the Shogun… you’re not at all like her.”

Ei’s brows seemed to relax, and Sara thought she looked… relieved?

“What am I like?” Ei quizzed curiously, turning her head to look at her. 

The question caught Sara off guard, and she almost fell back upon the railing.

“Uh,” she struggled, “You’re--”

You’re unlike anyone I’ve ever had the chance to meet. 

Sara’s reply had formed within her mind, but she struggled to find her voice.

“I suppose asking you such a question is foolish,” Ei cut in before Sara had a chance to finish, “considering the circumstances.”

There was a moment of silence, where only the sound of the waves crashing against the boat’s hull could be heard. Ei’s eyes had lowered and gone distant, as she reached up to idly play with a strand of her hair. 

Seeing her like that somehow gave Sara the resolve she needed.

“Ask me again after this expedition,” Sara offered willfully, “and I’ll have an answer.”

“You’re quite sure of yourself,” Ei pointed out, tentatively teasing. “Will you have enough time to formulate an appropriate response? 

“When something interests me, I pay attention.” Sara’s words were strong and steady, despite the thunderous beating of her heart beneath her chest. 

“How studious of you,” Ei murmured admiringly.

Sara’s neck flushed hot and pink as she realized how strongly she had worded her own statement. And suddenly, she felt an awkward silence descend upon the both of them. 

Luckily, Ei managed to carry them through it.

“Allow me to prove my usefulness as a traveling companion,” Ei began proudly as she reached down into her traveling pack and pulled out a variety of packaged snacks.

“Have you eaten?”

Sara’s grumbling stomach answered for her.

The next few hours of their journey was spent on the aft of the boat, chatting freely and idly as they ate. 

Sitting there on a quilt, with a cup of tea and a handful of treats, felt very much like those picnics of old that Ei had always fondly remembered. And she smiled with wistful acceptance to think that despite everything so drastically changing, there would always be those few small things that remained the same. 

A sudden, unexpected surge of emotion flooded the depths of Ei’s heart. She reminded herself then that she would need to be careful, outside the Plane of Euthymia, where thought and feeling both would be unbound by her rules.

“Why do you smile?” Sara asked curiously as she bit down tentatively on a fish-shaped taiyaki. The sweet filling felt like a guilty pleasure as she chewed.

“Ah,” Ei replied, pulling herself from her reverie, “I suppose there’s something satisfying about being the one to provide the snacks. It’s not a responsibility I’m used to.”

Sara hummed in agreement as she eyed the snacks Ei had chosen. Taiyaki, tri-colored dango, and sakura mochi, all three of them sweet desserts, and all three of them far from what Sara would have considered appropriate traveling provisions. 

But Ei had gone out of her way to choose these… for the both of them.

Just then, Sara felt a sudden shock of guilt.

“I should be the one serving you,” she confessed. 

“I disagree,” Ei replied easily, taking a bite of her sakura mochi, chewing, and swallowing before she deigned to continue. 

“The whole reason for this journey is to free you of your usual routine. I should hardly consider us anything less than equals.”

Sara swallowed harshly and took a sip of tea. 

“Then I shall serve as your personal guard. I can do at least that much,” Sara proposed.

At that, Ei covered a mirthful laugh with the back of her hand, and her eyes narrowed with delight.

“I was about to offer the same thing,” she replied with amusement.

“You… guard me?” Sara stuttered. 

“Wouldn’t that only make sense?” Ei asked. “If you’re no longer the General, then I’m no longer the Archon.”

“I hardly need guarding,” Sara countered willfully, cheeks burning.

“Have you always been so stubborn?” Ei teased.

Sara swallowed another harsh gulp of her tea and closed her eyes. 

“I call it perseverance.”

Ei laughed, light and airy, and it carried through the air like a series of gently ringing bells.

“Do my actions amuse you?” Sara questioned, albeit hopefully, knowing full well that she greatly enjoyed being the reason for Ei’s laughter, and the way she smiled.

“They do,” Ei replied, “in so much as I can see myself, in years long since passed, saying much the same thing.” 

“Yae said something similar,” Sara murmured unthinkingly.

A flock of birds flew high overhead, crossing through wispy clouds. Sara drew in a breath.

“Yae must have said much and more about me,” Ei stated, voice subdued.

Sara remembered all that Yae had said, and her heart burned at the thought of Ei’s past, and all she had bore witness to.

“She told me of your past, and your reasons for seeking eternity.”

“Someday, perhaps,” Ei began hopefully, “I can tell you those things directly.”

“I’d like that very much,” Sara nearly whispered.

After that, the sound of the waves and the gentle night's breeze seemed to put a damper on the conversation, and with the snacks packed away, they began to settle in and spend some time to themselves. 

Ei sat quite still, with her legs tucked beneath her. One hand resting gingerly on her thigh, while the other held a slim paperback book open before her. She hardly seemed to move, even to breathe, and the only sound was the somewhat often papery turn of a page.

Sara, on the other hand, could hardly manage to keep from moving. She had checked her pack once, and then twice, laying out every item and counting or inspecting each one. She measured the lengths of available bowstring, rope, and twine. She folded and re-folded her map. All of it, really, to keep her thoughts at bay.

Just as she had finished polishing her armor for a third time, Ei spoke, and after so long in silence, Sara nearly jumped at the sound of her voice.

“Do you play cards?”

Sara stood, and held onto the boat’s railing.

“I hadn't the time to devote myself to games,” Sara replied honestly, and then she added, “before.”

“Being so competitive and diligent, I’m certain you would enjoy it,” Ei offered.

Then, she pulled out a deck of uta-garuta cards from her pack. 

“Care to give it a try?”

Sara walked over to where Ei sat, and dropped down to a comfortable cross-legged position across from her. 

“I’m not one to pass up a challenge,” Sara said with a smirk. 

“Very well,” Ei replied with a cunning smile of her own.

“These,” Ei began, holding up a beautifully decorated card that contained a five-lined poem, “are the Yomifuda, also known as the reading cards.” She set the Yomifuda in a single stack to the side.

“And these, are the Torifuda,” she continued, as she set down cards that contained a single line of poetry, face up on the blanket, equidistant between them, “also known as the grabbing cards.”

“One of us will read the full poem from the Yomifuda, and then we will immediately begin searching for the Torifuda where the corresponding final line of the poem is written.”

Ei smiled eagerly, eyes narrowing as her own competitive nature began to present itself. Sara’s throat worked hard as she swallowed. 

“Whoever grabs the Torifuda first, keeps the card. And whoever has the most Torifuda at the end, is declared the winner.”

“Understood,” Sara confirmed, and then she rose to her knees in what she assumed would be the best position for quickly snatching cards from the floor.

“Impressive stance,” Ei complimented, as she, too, rose to a similar position.

Sara released a determined breath and focused her mind, trying to brush off the way Ei’s compliment had made her stomach feel light and airy.

“I hope to impress further,” Sara replied gruffly as she flexed her hands, preparing them for delicate, card-grabbing movements.

There was a pause, and Sara looked up just in time to see Ei tearing her gaze away. Ei had raised her hand to her mouth and turned her head to one side, and at that moment, Sara couldn’t see that Ei had bit down gently upon her bottom lip.

“I will read first,” Ei managed after a moment, as she lifted a Yomifuda from the stack.

“Prepare yourself, Kujou Sara.”

Ei’s words carried the weight of warfare. And Sara, whose heart raced, nodded with as much serious determination as if she were about to ride into battle.

And battle it certainly was. 

A harmonious competition between two like-minded warriors. As long as Sara didn’t allow Ei’s melodic reading of the poems to distract her, she was a contender. Her sharp, golden eyes, powered with the heightened sense of a tengu, were quite the match for Ei, who had spent years and years studying and analyzing these cards, and who had memorized each poem by heart, in order to prevail against previous opponents. 

Ei’s voice, as she read each poem, flowed sweetly into Sara’s ears. There was one poem in particular that Sara felt carried a deep sense of melancholy, changing the mood as easily as the strike of a match changes the light of a room. 

“The color of the flower
Has already faded away,
While in idle thoughts
My life passes vainly by,
As I watch the long rains fall.”

Ei could feel the poem digging into her heart. She glanced up, and Sara’s dark hair, her slanted tengu mask, her armor, her stance… all of it reminded Ei suddenly and painfully of one such previous opponent. One such former General. One such friend.

Sasayuri.

Ei hesitated, and Sara took the advantage, expertly snatching the corresponding card from the floor in triumph. She dropped the card onto the growing pile beside her.

Just as she was about to make a playfully competitive remark, she glanced up. Ei’s expression had clouded, grown distant, in a way that Sara was becoming familiar with. Knowing that Ei was lost within her own thoughts, but looking so troubled, made something stir within Sara.

“Are you alright?” She asked.

Ei glanced up, and her pensive expression vanished.

“These poems, some of them bring back memories,” Ei answered honestly.

“Should we stop?” Sara asked with concern.

“While you’re ahead?” Ei teased, narrowing her eyes as she smiled, baring her teeth with playful aggression, “I think not.”

As Sara watched, she pulled another Yomifuda, and began to read.

“It is true I love,
But the rumor of my love
Had gone far and wide,
When people should not have known
That I had begun to love.”

Sara took in a harsh breath at the sound of Ei’s voice, and the way it flowed with the backdrop of the waves, and glow of the lights, the gentle rocking of the ship on the waters.

That I had begun to love.

Her eyes scanned the remaining cards, looking for the one that contained that final line.

That I had begun to love.

She heard the words, echoing in Ei’s voice, and it sent a shuddering spark into her gut. 

That I had begun to love.

Just as she saw Ei’s arm begin to raise, she found the card she had been looking for.  She reached for it, but Ei had been faster. Ei’s palm came down atop the card, and Sara’s atop Ei’s own. 

Sara froze. Ei’s hand was warm beneath her own sweating palm. It seemed then that they were locked into this moment for all eternity, and Sara was sure that entire minutes had passed with herself being still unable to move, and only able to focus on the tickle of the small hairs upon her skin, or the softness of the veins of her hand, pumping warm blood beneath Sara’s calloused fingers.

Ei raised her eyes, brows lifting. And then, she smiled.

“Almost,” she nearly whispered.

“Mm,” Sara grunted, pulling her hand away so that Ei could put the card on her own stack. “I’ll be faster next time.”

After that, they played the remainder of the game with their full concentration, and only the sound of the poetry to break the silence. 

“It is for your sake
That I walk the fields in spring,
Gathering green herbs,
While my garment's hanging sleeves
Are speckled with falling snow.”

Sara had managed to grab the final card. 

“You’ve won the final battle,” Ei replied triumphantly, “but it seems that I have won the war.” She raised her stack of Torifuda, just slightly larger than Sara’s own.

“I concede,” Sara replied playfully as she made an honorable bow of her head.

“Still,” Ei remarked, as she began to gather up the two decks and shuffle the cards within her hands, “I’m impressed. Without having ever played before, you kept up with I, who have played times uncounted.”

“Shall we play a second round, with you as the reader?” Ei asked.

Sara swallowed thickly. 

“I won’t sound even half as lovely as you,” Sara admitted, trying not to blush.

Ei blinked and looked hastily down at the cards in her hands as she shuffled them properly.

“I highly doubt that,” Ei replied, picking a card at random and handing it for Sara to read.

Sara took in a breath.

“Like a driven wave,
Dashed by fierce winds on a rock,
So am I: alone,”

Sara stumbled over the words, feeling inelegant and harsh as she spoke. She rushed through the rest of the poem hastily. 

And crushed upon the shore,
Remembering what has been.”

Ei sat still, and Sara flexed a hand into a fist at her side.

“See?” Sara said after a moment, “when a soldier attempts to recite poetry, it’s far from lovely.”

“I’m a soldier, too,” Ei reminded thoughtfully. 

“You’re more than that,” Sara replied stubbornly.

“If it were my wish
To pick the white chrysanthemums,
Puzzled by the frost
Of the early autumn time,
I by chance might pluck the flower.”

Sara listened intently to Ei as she recited another poem from memory, and began to wonder at it's meaning.

“To hear these poems from a new perspective, a new voice. Your voice,” Ei confided quietly, “that is what is truly lovely, to me.”

Sara stared at her. It was impossible to argue, but the longer she reflected on Ei’s words, the less she seemed to understand.

“I’m not sure what it is that you see in me,” Sara murmured.

Ei’s shuffling hands stilled, and the stillness of them made Sara pull her gaze upwards, but Ei wasn’t looking at her. She was looking down at the cards in her hands.

“I--”

But just as Ei had begun to speak, the ship’s bell rang thrice, to mark the nearing of their destination. 

The two warriors quickly pushed themselves to standing, and, after grabbing their belongings, made their way to the front of the boat.

As soon as they rounded the corner, Sara’s golden eyes widened.

She had seen Seirai Island only from afar. The broken peaks and the swirling storm had seemed like a whisper within the foggy distance and the opaque winds.

Now, up close, it was striking in a way that seemed to suck the very air from Sara’s lungs. She gulped a breath of air and stared at a horizon that could only be described as broken. Sturdy, steady mountains had been torn up from the ground, with enormous boulders floating suspended within the storm’s violent winds. 

The dark waters reflected the sky, a devastating purple, and the sky was so turbulent as to nearly block out the sun in every direction. It was like stepping into another world, and Sara could think of nowhere in Inazuma that looked quite like this.

As she raised her eyes upwards, she saw that which resided at the very center, high above the shattered Amakumo Peak. The eternal storm, a circular, spinning band of clouds, spitting shards of purple lightning all around. 

Sara had been lost within the scenery before her, and only Ei’s voice drew her back to reality.

And as Ei spoke, Sara realized that she was reciting another poem.

“It is by its breath
That autumn's leaves of trees and grass
Are wasted and driven.
So they call this mountain wind
The wild one, the destroyer."

Chapter Text

The vessel made landfall on the northernmost of Seirai’s islands just before midnight, and the pair hiked in the storm-lit darkness down the empty beach towards a campsite Sara had picked out prior to her departure.

After reaching their destination, Sara immediately made herself busy with setting up camp in an open space surrounded by violet-leaved trees. She hadn’t noticed Ei wandering off until after she had erected the tent and stoked a modest fire that burned crimson against the purple sand. 

It might have been idyllic, if not for the crashing sea behind them, the angry winds around them, and the raging storm high above.

“You seem right at home,” Ei’s approving voice travelled on the wind, “Do you camp often?”

Sara looked up from the fire. Ei was standing before her, with her arms full of round, pink, teardrop-shaped objects that Sara couldn’t place.

“I have been known to visit the wilds, on occasion,” Sara replied, thinking back to all the times, by her tengu’s instinct, she had taken to Narukami Island’s forests and mountains for a momentary glimpse of solitude. She remembered, too, the resulting guilt for having left her post and her fellow soldiers over something so selfish. She pursed her lips at how bleak her old life seemed to her.

“What’re those?” Sara asked, curiously eyeing what Ei carried in her arms.

“These,” Ei replied brightly as she kneeled on the blanket next to where Sara sat, “are fruit that grow at the base of Amakumo peak.”

Sara glanced up at the broken mountain.

“It’s hard to believe that something like that can grow here at all,” Sara mused, watching as Ei pulled a beautifully crafted ceremonial knife from her belt and began peeling and carving the rosy, bulb-shaped fruit into chunks.

“Here,” Ei murmured as she handed a pristine, unpeeled Amakumo fruit for Sara to take, “hold it to your ear, and listen.”

Sara obliged, holding the fruit close. She drew in a breath as she heard the faintest electrical crackling of a current from within the center of the bulb.

“Fascinating,” Sara breathed. 

“Isn’t it? I used to pick them and bring them back to Tenshukaku, long ago,” Ei confided, “before all that happened here had come to pass.”

“What happened here?” Sara asked suddenly, lowering the fruit from her ear as she looked back to Ei.

Ei paused. 

“Are you familiar with the story of the Thunderbird?”

“I've heard the stories,” Sara replied, “and the songs, that told of an ancient bird who had turned against those who worshipped it. And of how later, it had been hunted down by the Raiden Shogun, and slain.”

Ei’s eyes drifted down to her own hands, and her perfect grip on the ceremonial blade. She balanced the weight of it in her hand.

"Do you know what happened, after that?" Ei's voice thinned and became more tenuous.

Sara shook her head.

“The power of the Thunderbird was released upon my fleet, during the battle against the Great Serpent, Orobashi. Right here, on Seirai Island.”

Sara watched as Ei’s violet eyes narrowed subtly, and again Sara could tell that Ei had gotten lost in her own thoughts. 

“The Thunderbird still lives?” Sara queried gently.

“The manifestation of the Thunderbird’s rage is all that remains of that ancient creature.”

“A manifestation,” Sara echoed, thinking back to the visions she had seen in her dream. 

Ei took a deep breath and focused on peeling the fruit laid out before her. 

“The rippling current within the Amakumo fruit is a remnant of that power,” Ei murmured, lips curving upward as she watched Sara staring down at the fruit with wide, golden eyes.

“Are they… safe to eat?” Sara asked, mesmerized by Ei’s bladework; the ease with which she peeled and carved, and the way the juice and the watery seeds dripped from her fingers. 

“I enjoy the rippling tingle of electro on the tongue when eaten raw,” Ei replied easily. Sara stared at her as she tried to determine whether or not she was being toyed with.

But then, Ei poked a thin, peeled stick through the center of a handful of chunks, and held the other end for Sara to take, “but I was wondering what they might taste like grilled.”

“Worth a try,” Sara blurted out, trying hard not to blush when Ei’s slippery knuckles brushed against her own hand as she took hold of the end of the stick. 

After that, they sat in silence, across from each other and with the crackling fire between them; each of them holding a skewer of Amakumo fruit. Sara couldn’t help but look across the dancing flames at Ei, who was focused on the task at hand and did not seem to notice her staring.

In the span of a day, so much had happened. Sara had left her old life behind, and the island she had proudly, loyally, called home. She was somewhere she had never been before, with someone who she both knew and hardly knew all at once. 

It was like a story from one of those popular light novels that lined the shelves of the Yae Publishing House; books that Sara had always frowned upon and never allowed herself the chance to read. At the time, they had seemed frivolous and wasteful. Unrealistic. 

Now, after everything, she wished she had taken the time to try reading one. Maybe then she would have felt more suited to handle her current situation. Maybe then, she would have had a story to tell, at this campfire, across from a person who had probably heard every story there was to tell already. 

“I hope my silence isn’t boring you.”

Ei’s voice snapped Sara back to reality. Her golden eyes widened. Ei was smiling, albeit apologetically. 

“Not at all,” Sara consoled, “I don’t mind the quiet.”

“You might have liked the Plane of Euthymia,” Ei mused.

“Did you?” Sara asked suddenly; desperately.

“Hm?” Ei raised her eyes to meet Sara’s intense gaze.

“Did you like it,” Sara murmured hastily, “the Plane of Euthymia.”

Ei pondered the question with an unreadable expression as she turned her skewer in the open flame.

“Liking; not liking. Those were not feelings I concerned myself with at the time.” 

Ei’s soft, lilting voice held a hint of resignation. Sara’s heart suddenly ached at the weight her words carried, and she felt drawn to them in a way that nearly frightened her. The feeling of a shared experience, and the desperate need for understanding, and sympathy, and closeness.

“It was just something you had to do,” Sara’s voice traveled across the campfire, as the flames licked at the night’s sky, “how you felt didn’t occur to you.”

“You’re familiar with that concept, I’d imagine,” Ei gauged, eyes searching Sara’s own. 

“It was all I had,” Sara began, unsure even then where her words would take her. “Everything I did. All of it was for the Almighty Shogun. There was nothing else.”

Ei’s brows softened, and her lips parted, but she held her voice for Sara to continue.

Sara struggled to process her feelings, which seemed to expand and retract as a tide would, within the moonlit depths of her heart. She had lived her life upon the pillars of honor and loyalty. She had served the Raiden Shogun to the best of her ability. 

“Is that what you wanted?” 

Ei asked the question that Sara’s heart refused to contemplate. It struck her like a bolt of pure lightning, and she nearly flinched at the thought of having to answer. A sudden harsh wind blew at the fire, and the flames danced, shrinking only for a moment before surging back ever stronger.

“I don’t think I gave myself time to consider that,” Sara breathed, eyes narrowing in frustration as she looked at her actions in hindsight.

“If you hadn’t come back, I’m sure I would still be by the Shogun’s side. Carrying out her will.”

Ei’s eyes narrowed, and she brought a tentative hand up to rest at her chest.

“I feel much the same way,” Ei breathed, “if I had been left bound to my duty, and continued to exist as a presence; an ideal. I’m quite sure I could have gone on like that forever.”

Then, inexplicably, Ei smiled as she spoke again.

“But I’m glad I didn’t stay there, because I never would have had the chance to get to know you.”

“I suppose the next time I see Guuji Yae, I should thank her for ruining my life so that we could meet,” Sara blurted out, blushing as she realized what she had said.

Ei stared at her for a moment, and then she laughed. The sound of it warmed Sara more than the fire ever could.

“I’m sure she would enjoy that,” Ei murmured after she caught her breath.

Then, she pulled her skewer out of the fire. She stared at it, brows creasing as a frown formed. 

“Somehow, I’ve burned it,” Ei mumbled dejectedly.

Sara pulled her own perfectly grilled skewer of fruit from the fire.

“I have enough to share.”

After they had eaten, it only made sense to get some rest before sunrise.

It was only then, as Sara ducked into the tent with her sleeping bag beneath her arm and a lantern in her hand, that she realized the reality of their sleeping arrangements.

“Oh, well this is cozy, isn’t it?” Ei teased as she slipped into the tent behind Sara and unfurled her own sleeping bag on one half of the tent’s floor.

“I can sleep outside,” Sara nealy grunted as she began an about face, intending to march right back outside.

“I won’t allow it,” Ei replied, and for the first time since meeting her, Sara realized just how like the Raiden Shogun Ei could sound, when she tried.

“I don’t want you to feel crowded,” Sara pleaded, watching with muted horror as Ei settled down to sit upon her sleeping bag with her knees pulled up behind her.

“After so long in the vast and empty spaces of the Plane of Euthymia, trust me when I say that this is a wonderful change of pace.”

Sara shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

“That is, unless you would prefer to be alone?” Ei asked honestly, one hand coming up to hold her other arm’s elbow. “I don’t really need sleep. I could patrol, or--”

“No,” Sara nearly snapped. “Please, stay. There’s plenty of room.”

Ei nodded.

“So long as you’re comfortable.”

Sara held her breath, unfurling her own sleeping bag next to Ei’s, with only a meter or so of space between them. She set the lantern down between them.

“Well,” Sara spluttered robotically, “I wish you a good night.”

Idiot.

“Goodnight, Sara,” Ei replied gently. 

Sara kicked off her geta and pulled off her mask hastily, and then she shoved herself, fully-clothed, into her sleeping bag as unceremoniously as possible. She made sure to face towards the tent fabric, and slammed her eyes shut for extra measure.

She could hear the pounding of her own heart. And then after a few moments, with her eyes still closed, she heard Ei turn down the lantern. After that, there was a slight rustling of fabric for a few moments, and the gentle clink of jewelry being removed and set down. Then, more fabric noises as Ei crawled into her sleeping bag.

After that, only silence.

Sara released a quiet, shaking breath. 

She had never slept this close quarters with anyone. Let alone--

“Sara?” Ei whispered.

“Yes?” Sara answered immediately.

“Ah, I was wondering if you had already fallen asleep.”

“No,” Sara breathed. 

“I haven’t slept in so long,” Ei’s gentle whisper meandered through the tent. “I almost forget what it feels like.”

“You didn't sleep at all in the Plane of Euthymia?” Sara asked in the darkness.

“I didn’t really need to. And there wasn't a day and night cycle. Or a place to sleep.”

“Sounds lonely,” Sara murmured. And then she thought of all the times she had pushed sleep away, keeping late nights in the map room, polishing her armor, restringing her bow. She thought of her bed, in her home. A home that had never had a guest. 

“It didn’t seem lonely at the time,” Ei responded, “but it does, now.”

“Now that you’re not alone?” Sara asked a question that she felt she could have asked to herself.

She held her breath, waiting for Ei to respond. The wind beat against the hearty tent’s fabric, and she thought she could hear the first few drops of rainfall.

“Now that I’m not alone,” Ei echoed in affirmation, “many things seem different than they had before.”

Sara played Ei’s words on repeat as she wondered at their meaning, and after only a few minutes she drifted off to sleep.

Ei, who had listened as Sara’s breathing deepened and slowed, stayed awake longer. The unexpected pounding of her own heart had caught her attention, and she wondered at it the way one might wonder at a songbird that lands upon one’s extended hand, wishing for it to not take flight too soon.

Chapter Text

Is there any way
Except by a messenger
To send these words to you?
If I could, I'd come to you
To say goodbye forever

Ei held the uta-garuta card within her hand, and watched as it blew away, fluttering with all the many cherry blossoms, until both card and blossoms scattered and disappeared.

She looked up. 

She stood upon an endless beach of purple sand and sea. The call of thunder bellowed far and away. It looked like Seirai Island, but it didn’t feel like Seirai Island.

“Ei.”

Ei turned.

There were only a handful of people who knew that name. 

And that voice. It was so familiar.

“Sasayuri?” 

Sasayuri’s long dark hair blew delicately in the wind as they raised a hand in greeting. 

“Why are you here?” Ei’s voice cracked in her throat.

Sasayuri shouldn’t be here.

Not after what had happened.

“I’ve been here for a very long time,” Sasayuri replied evenly.

“Why?” 

Sasayuri smiled. 

“I gave you my word.”

They stepped forward. Ei remained rooted to her spot in the sand, and did not flinch when the tengu general’s hand came to rest, as it once had in times long since passed, on her shoulder.

“I don’t intend to break my promise.”

Ei drew in a sharp breath. It had been so, so long since she had felt that touch. She reached up to put her hand over theirs, as she always had before. It felt surprisingly familiar; natural in a way that defied these very strange and unexpected circumstances.

It almost felt real.

But it couldn't be.

As her hand rested there, she could feel the crackling arc of electro energy coursing beneath Sasayuri’s skin. 

Somewhere off in the distance, the echoing cry of a bird pierced the winds.

“I don’t understand,” Ei breathed, looking up into golden eyes. 

Sasayuri smiled ruefully and looked up into the stormy sky.

The screeching cry of a bird came again, nearer than before. 

After a final gentle squeeze, Sasayuri’s hand dropped gently from Ei’s shoulder. Then, they turned away, and began to walk in the direction of the sound. Their boots made deep imprints in the sand.

Ei’s eyes widened as she watched them go. And all at once it felt like that other time. And in her mind Ei could see it all over again. Sasayuri, standing at the bow of the flagship at the head of the Shogun’s fleet. 

And just as she was about to call out to them…

She awoke.

It was just before sunrise, and she was alone in the tent. 

“Sasayuri,” she breathed into the near darkness as she sat up. She touched her shoulder, and quickly moved her hand away.

Off in the distance, she could hear the snapping of a bowstring, and of arrows slicing through the air.

Hastily, she pulled on her clothing and fixed her hairpin back into her hair. Then, she exited the tent and followed the sound.

Sasayuri had favored the bow. And for the briefest of moments she wondered if, when she rounded the corner of the cliff’s edge, she might see them there. As if nothing at all had changed.

But it wasn’t Sasayuri that she saw there.

Sara was training in an open space off the beach, striking the trunks of trees with her arrows as the tiniest sliver of sun began to peek up from behind the ocean; a brilliant orange at the far edge of the world, where the eternal storm’s clouds couldn’t reach.

Ei watched as Sara trained. Her perfect stance. The quiet composure as she drew the bowstring taut. The focused expression on her face. The narrowing of her golden eyes. The release.

Ei had never had the chance to think it through before, but now there was no question. 

Two dark-haired, golden-eyed tengu generals. Both of them... loyal to a fault.

As Ei watched another arrow hit its mark, and the morning light mixed with the dark purple sky, she wondered if she were being tested. And she felt, for the first time in forever, a needling feeling of inexplicable worry... and fear.

She stepped forward, walking closer to where Sara trained. Sara noticed her presence as she neared and slowly dropped her bow to her side. She raised a tentative hand in greeting.

Ei did the only thing her warrior’s heart could think of.

Without saying a word, Ei drew her naginata out of thin air. As Engulfing Lightning rested in her hands she felt the familiar comfort that a weapon could bring. 

Ei twirled her spear within her hands. It danced over her fingers; a purple blur in the air before and above her. Morning light glinted off the curved blade as it arced in the air.

She could feel Sara’s eyes upon her. The thought of Sara watching her gave her a sudden thrill. She must have done this routine thousands of times before, and yet this time felt unique.

She strengthened her grip and dove into her drill, showcasing a flowing series of slashes, cuts, chops and thrusts; one movement weaving into the next with elegance and grace. She fought a mock battle against invisible opponents seeking to besiege her from every direction. Each one of them fell, until she was left standing, with Engulfing Lightning resting vibrantly at her side.

A drop of sweat ran past her temple. She pulled herself from her trance and looked across the way to Sara, who had neither moved nor taken her eyes from her.

Sara nodded. Short and to the point. In truth, the tengu’s heart was racing at having witnessed such an intimate display of martial prowess. 

After that, they trained in silence; each alone, and yet still together. Listening to each other’s labored breaths, and the sound their weapons made as arrow and spear soared through the cool morning air. 

They had yet to speak a single word between them, but somehow it felt like much had been said. 

There was a lull, where the two of them meant to rest and catch their breath. Ei closed the distance between them and strode to where Sara stood.

“Do you always rise so early to train?” She asked as Engulfing Lightning faded back into the ether.

“Five past five on the dot,” Sara replied as she wiped the sweat from her brow. 

“Specific, and commendable,” Ei murmured.

“It’s mostly just a habit,” Sara pointed out modestly.

“But it's a good habit to have.”

“Even in peace?” Sara questioned.

“Especially in peace,” Ei replied, “but I find that sparring can be even more rewarding.”

“You mean with a partner?” Sara asked quickly.

Ei nodded.

I prefer to train alone.

That is how Sara had typically responded when fellow soldiers had asked to practice with her in the Tenryou Commission’s training grounds. 

But that was before… 

“But I suppose bowmanship wouldn’t require a partner,” Ei corrected herself.

“Swordsmanship, on the other hand,” Sara began, as she racked her bow and drew her blade from the sheathe at her hip. 

Ei smiled, aggressive and playful. Sara’s heart skipped a beat.

“I’m out of practice,” Ei began.

“Don’t be absurd,” Sara reprimanded.

“But you know me,” Ei teased, “you’ve had years to analyze my movements.”

“I know the Shogun,” Sara replied willfully. “You remain quite the mystery.”

Ei’s smile widened.

“Let’s change that.”

Ei closed her eyes for a moment, and there was a familiar flash of light as the Musou Isshin rose, from just above her heart, into her waiting hand. 

Sara watched as Ei pulled the blade slowly free. Her own heart was pounding. She had seen the Raiden Shogun do this countless times before, and yet this time... everything felt different.

Ei held her legendary blade in two hands. She readied her stance, and Sara did the same. 

Waves crashed onto the beach in the distance as the tide came in. Lightning arced across an indigo sky. A strong wind blew, plucking purple leaves from their boughs and sending them in every direction.

Sara counted five waves before she sprang into action, her burning calves sending her into an aggressive attack. 

Ei stepped just out of her range, and the ends of their swords collided and slid away. The sound of the blades echoed against the surrounding cliffs. 

“Ah,” Ei exclaimed, “I’d nearly forgotten a tengu’s speed.”

“Allow me to remind you,” Sara breathed, eyes narrowing with delight as she noticed a shift in Ei’s stance, less defensive and more aggressive than before.

She made to come at her again, powering her sword downward, but holding back just enough to meet the tip of Ei’s blade near the base of her own. She parried Ei’s strike, letting out a hungry sigh as Ei’s arm swung wide. She pressed her advantage.

But she hadn’t been prepared for what came next. 

Ei had led her in, and now Sara had drawn too close. With her arms extended, and her momentum carrying her forward, she had lost her balance. Ei’s arm caught her just before she fell, and with a vicious elegance she spun Sara so that their positions switched places.

“Are you always so reckless?” Ei chided.

Sara blushed furiously and gripped her blade to steady her resolve.

“Not usually.”

Ei’s eyes narrowed mirthfully. 

“Is that my doing?” She teased.

“You flatter yourself,” Sara reprimanded coolly as her cheeks burned.

Sara caught her balance, and had just enough time to catch her breath before Ei went on the offensive.

The Musou Isshin struck her own sword, and sent vibrations coursing through Sara’s arm, all the way to her shoulder. 

She had bested countless opponents, obstacles to the Raiden Shogun’s eternity, in duels that had far higher stakes than this.

Why, then, did her heart pound so fiercely?

“Such strength,” Ei breathed as Sara managed to defend against her barrage of attacks. 

And for a moment, Sara wondered if she might find victory. There was always a chance. She watched as Ei prepared a powerful strike, and it was only after she initiated a counterattack of her own that she realized Ei’s strike had been a false one.

“I see,” Ei nearly whispered, eyes narrowing in a way that made Sara’s own eyes widen.

With a quickness Sara hadn’t foreseen, Ei’s blade came up from below, with the force of it nearly breaking Sara’s grip. She held fast to the blade as she fell back, and all at once her instincts kicked in, and her two sets of paired wings burst out from behind her to keep herself from falling. 

Ei drew in a sharp breath and froze.

Two sets of wings. 

Just like Sasayuri.

Suddenly, the pain of that loss crashed down upon her. She sank into the feeling of it, as if it had happened only recently; an unhealed wound, freshly opened.

Sara realized that Ei was distracted. Her hands had faltered, and her sword had lowered subtly.

She saw a path to victory. With Ei’s attention diverted, she would have been no match for a timed blow to strike the Musou Isshin out of her hands. Just like that, Sara could have won. Just like that, she could prove herself.

But she chose not to. 

She lowered her blade, and Ei noticed. 

“Did my wings surprise you?” Sara asked, unsure of how she ought to proceed.

“I suppose they have,” Ei replied, the pensive look on her face fading as she spoke. 

She glanced at Sara, whose sword was still lowered.

“Why did you hold your attack?”

“I needed to catch my breath,” Sara replied awkwardly. 

Ei nodded, and the Musou Isshin dematerialized into a fluttering sea of specks of light that danced, as fireflies would, across the open wind.

On the way back to camp, Sara spoke.

“Why did you say ‘I see’ when we were sparring?”

Ei ran a hand through her hair.

“I had thought you might see through my false strike, but I realized then that you had put trust in my movements.”

Sara’s neck felt hot at the thought of that implication.

“Subterfuge is one of your strong suits,” Sara pointed out stoically. “Why would you think I could sense otherwise?”

Ei smiled apologetically.

“I thought I might have given myself away, but I suppose I’m not as obvious as I think I am.”

And before they had time to continue their discussion, they had arrived at camp and made themselves busy with preparing for the day ahead.

After a light meal and packing away the majority of the camp, Sara sat cross-legged before the embers of the fire with a map of Seirai Island resting across her lap. 

“Where to?” Ei asked curiously, sitting in a cross-legged lotus position of her own, and looking as regal and noble as she ever had, across the dying fire.

Sara stared at the map, and bit at the inside of her lip.

“That’s what I’m currently deciding,” Sara murmured. 

Ei watched as Sara examined the map, tracing a path with her finger, and then another. 

“Did you come all this way without a plan?” Ei asked with a gentle curiosity.

It was an innocent question, but Sara found her cheeks burning at the accusation. 

All the worse because it was true.

“I thought that when I got here…”

That something would reveal itself. That possibly, she might have another dream. Another vision. But nothing of the sort had come to pass, and now, Sara was struggling with where to go next.

“You said you decided to come here,” Ei murmured, tearing her gaze away, “because of a dream?”

“Yes. I dreamt of Seirai Island,” Sara began, busying herself by staring at the details on the map.

But to tell Ei the story of the boy who had thrown himself off a cliff, and the Thunderbird, who had spoken to her as an equal and invited her to battle seemed... childish.

“Was there any particular landmark that you remember?” Ei asked helpfully.

Sara thought back to the peak. She saw the boy’s body, as it fell from the cliff’s edge. 

“I saw the peaks of Amakumo,” she murmured.

“I know the most direct route,” Ei replied, “if that is where you wish to go.”

Sara glanced up at Ei and thought she looked strangely concerned. 

“You had mentioned having business here. On Seirai Island,” Sara began slowly. 

“Yes.” Ei breathed, looking down at the crimson coals in the heart of the dwindling fire. "I'm headed in that same direction."

And in that moment, Sara knew she shouldn’t ask for more. In her heart she wondered what it was that Ei was meant to do here, and why she couldn’t say. But then she reminded herself that she, too, had kept things to herself, and couldn’t be one to judge.

After that, they left the campsite and headed down the southwesterly path.

The sound of the wind and the distant rolling thunder seemed to follow them as they walked, and only made their surroundings seem all the more desolate. 

Ei had lost herself in her thoughts. Sara had dreamt of Seirai. Ei had dreamt of Sasayuri. And now, both of them wandered the island. Searching for… what, exactly? 

There was something unnerving; a feeling Ei couldn’t quite place. An emotion that had been bereft from the tranquil Plane of Euthymia, but that continued to grow. Something like desperation; a fear of the unknown. 

What was it that she feared?

If anything, Ei resolved, she would be there for Sara. To help her; to protect her. 

But it was more than that, wasn’t it?

Chapter Text

As they walked, Sara was starting to admit that the idea of going to Seirai Island alone had maybe been a foolish one. At least with Ei at her side there was a modicum of reassurance. 

But the longer they walked, and the more chances she had to steal a glance over at her companion, the more Sara began to second-guess her confidence. 

Because Sara felt like there must be something that was bothering Ei, even though Ei hadn’t said a word about it. Sara could see it in the way she strode across the beach, and how her lavender eyes searched the distant horizon.

Sara wondered what Ei might be looking for.

They ventured inland, moving away from the beach to cut through the center of the northern island where they had landed. The path led them between two cliffs. With the sky nearly blocked in every direction, and the rushing winds unable to reach them, it seemed suddenly, painfully quiet.

Sara’s heart burned in her chest as she wondered how she might broach the subject of what was bothering Ei, going through every possible course of action in her head, with each strategy seeming more futile than the last. 

“Is something wrong?”

Ei asked the question that Sara had been trying to find the courage for. Ei had come to a stop, and turned to look back at her with a concerned raise of her perfect brow.

“I was hoping you would have an answer to that, actually,” Sara replied hastily.

Ei made a soft humming sound as she lifted her eyes up to the sliver of sky that hung between the two sheer cliff faces. The violet clouds spun in a slow spiral above them, but the storm’s eye was hidden from view.

“Between the two of us, we should be quite well equipped to handle whatever obstacle this island presents to us,” Ei proclaimed factually as her eyes narrowed.

Sara pursed her lips. The vision of the boy falling from the ledge and the sound of the Thunderbird’s furious cry echoed in her mind.

Then, she thought of Ei, and all the time they had already spent together. She had given in to the idea of having Ei all to herself during their journey. She had left her post and her responsibilities behind. Inazuma had been counting on her, and she...

She had been coveting every precious moment of time she and Ei had spent together. 

She thought of last night, with Ei in the sleeping bag beside her. Sara couldn’t deny that she had thought of her, lying there, wishing that even the meter between them could simply disappear; the desire for a closeness she hardly felt deserving of, flooding through her like a surging tide.

Selfish feelings that she could hardly control. 

Feelings that had begun to break her apart, from within. 

“What if I’m not as strong as you think?” 

Sara’s own question surprised her as it tore itself from her throat. Her eyes widened for a moment before narrowing, and her throat closed up as emotion welled up within her.

Ei stared at her.

“I know you’re strong,” Ei began gently, “because I know you.”

“How could you know me?” Sara breathed harshly, hanging her head as the words spilled from her lips, “you haven’t been here, all this time.”

She slammed her eyes closed as she felt the tears threatening to come. Here, between the cliffs, there would be no rain to hide their appearance. 

With her eyes closed, she heard the sound of footsteps on the rocky path coming closer, and closer still.

Then, she felt Ei’s hand, her fingers pulling at Sara’s own. Sara opened her eyes, watching as Ei lifted her hand up and grasped it with both of her own. Ei’s fingers were soft and gentle against Sara’s calloused ones. 

If Sara’s hands had been shaking, Ei’s touch had stilled them. Sara held her breath, and raised her eyes to look at Ei as she spoke.

“I know you, Sara,” Ei began again, her voice soft and patient and kind, “because I know myself, and you and I are not so different.”

Sara’s fingers twitched in Ei’s hands. She tentatively moved her fingers, gently nudging Ei’s fingertips with her knuckles, something in her gut twisted as Ei’s nails traveled across her skin.

“You sound so sure,” Sara breathed in awe as her heart raced.

“One day,” Ei began, and slowly she raised Sara’s hand ever further.

“You’ll see yourself the way I see you,” she finished, and before Sara could guess what might happen next, she had brought Sara’s knuckles to her lips. She kissed her there with an almost reverent softness, but only for a moment. 

Before Sara could react, the fleeting moment was over, and slowly Ei lowered Sara’s hand to let go. Sara’s outstretched hand hung in the space between them before she dropped it stutteringly back to her side. 

Sara swallowed harshly.

“I don’t know what to say,” she began hoarsely.

Ei smiled at Sara’s honesty. Sara noticed Ei’s cheeks had tinged a soft shade of pink. 

“You don’t have to say anything,” Ei replied simply. “Just know that together, we’ll see this journey through.”

“Mm,” Sara murmured, nodding in agreement, and as Ei turned to continue leading them through the passage, she lowered her eyes to glance at the very hand that Ei had pressed to her lips and wondered how any of what had just happened could possibly be real.

With a nervous, giddy excitement, Sara continued to follow behind her as they walked, occasionally glancing down at her hand and flexing her fingers in something like awe.

Ei walked ahead, and Sara could not see it when Ei raised her own hand up to touch at her lips, where Sara’s fiery hot skin had been. 

So wrapped up in their own hearts and minds were they, that neither of them noticed a figure, high above at the cliff’s edge, standing watch. And as the pair walked out from the passage and into the open air of the beach ahead, the figure’s lips curved up into a scintillating sneer.

As they passed through the cliffs, the scenery opened up all around them, and in every direction they could see the broken edges of mountains floating into the sky off in the distance. 

Sara turned her head to look southward, and for the first time since arriving on the island she was able to properly see the central peak of Amakumo. This, she had learned, was the place where the Thunderbird had been sealed by the Raiden Shogun.

And this, Sara reminded herself as she looked at the high peaks, the tattered boulders suspended in the air, and the eternal storm at the center of it all, was where the Thunderbird’s manifestation had been released.

Sara shivered.

“Are you cold?”

Sara looked round and realized that Ei had been watching her. She blushed and shook her head.

“Serving the Almighty Shogun has afforded me much practice at weathering a storm,” she murmured with a slight smile, “it’s the atmosphere that troubles me, I think.”

Ei nodded. 

“Many lives were lost here, on the day that the Thunderbird’s warding seals were broken.”

“Were you not here?” Sara asked with an innocent naivety that calmed Ei’s heart even as emotion surged within her. 

Ei smiled sadly and shook her head.

“I was not. We were fighting on two fronts, and I had sent my fleet here in my place,” she replied. 

Silence washed over them as they walked across a narrow strip of beach. The ocean’s dark waters lapped at either side of the narrow path that led to a larger island shrouded in purple fog.

Ei slowed, and thought back to all her many battles. She had been mostly victorious, but there would always be the coming in and going out of a war’s tide, as strongly unchanging as the moon’s own push and pull, and after everything she had learned, and had to re-learn, she had to accept that such loss was unavoidable. 

And yet…

“You’re still thinking about the battle that was waged here, aren’t you?”

Sara’s voice stilled Ei’s mind. She turned to look back and reached a hand up to rest over her heart. 

“Looks like I know you, too,” Sara added bluntly as she fidgeted with her hands.

It felt then, that there was a moment of opportunity, like one might find in battle, or in a duel. Ei could feel the passage of time, and in her mind she could hear herself telling Sara about her former tengu general. About Sasayuri. About her dream.

About everything.

She drew in a harsh breath, and pulled her hand closer to her chest. Her own hesitation surprised her, and gave her pause.

Why did it feel like speaking it into existence might somehow ruin what they had?

And then, Ei wondered exactly what it was that they did have.

Sara sensed Ei’s hesitation and pushed past it. 

“Come. Let’s cross this path,” Sara spoke quickly, “before the tide comes in.”

And just like that, the moment was gone.

After a few more minutes, they had cleared the path and came upon the edge of the larger, westerly island. The fog began to dissipate as they went through it. 

Once she could see more clearly, Sara’s eyes widened at the sight before her.

A village, or what might have once been called that, lay barren and empty, with fields and structures scattered across the hillside. 

“Kouseki Village,” Ei pointed out quietly, “destroyed in the wake of the Thunderbird’s wrath.”

Sara’s eyes widened, and then her brows bunched together as she tried to remember.

“But I thought that Seirai Island’s people called upon the Thunderbird’s power to defeat the Shogunate fleet? Why would this village have been so affected?”

Ei smiled ruefully as her eyes narrowed.

“The Thunderbird’s manifestation did not choose sides when it’s fury was unleashed.”

“That’s… awful,” Sara breathed as her brows knit together and she imagined what it must have felt like, to unleash such a force and then watch it direct itself back towards those who had released it.

“It was exactly that,” Ei replied, and then she began to walk towards the village. Buildings and fences had been left in disrepair, falling in upon themselves or falling over onto dilapidated fields. 

Sara looked around and her heart hurt to see it all so directly.

It reminded her very much of seeing the rebellion outposts she and her men had laid waste to. 

All of that suddenly seemed so empty. All that fighting. What had it been for, exactly? Beyond a way to wear her strict, honorable pride like a shield and to put herself before the Raiden Shogun’s eyes, why had she done the things she did?

“There is a shrine, further west. The shrine’s owner is the one who broke the warding seals. That was more than 500 years ago, but I can remember that day so clearly.”

Ei spoke, more to herself than anything, and Sara listened as she looked out upon the ruined village.

“I saw her once, before the war. She wielded her perished lover’s bow. A shrine maiden, who had been trained in martial arts,” Ei breathed.

The air around them seemed to cool, and Sara could hear droplets of water falling from the sky behind them. 

“I think if circumstances had been different,” Ei reflected, “if we had been on the same side, then perhaps we could have become friends.”

The droplets grew louder and began to multiply. Sara shivered as the temperature seemed to inexplicably drop. And then, she noticed a fog rolling in from behind. 

But as the fog touched her bare shoulders, Sara realized it wasn’t fog at all.

It was cool, steamy mist.

Ei noticed it too.

“We’re not alone,” she whispered suddenly, turning towards the mist as Engulfish Lightning materialized in her tensed hand.

“What is it?” Sara whispered harshly back, turning to see that all around them there stood a wall of thick, blue-white mist.

Before Ei could answer her, a third voice, as clear and sharp as crystal, pierced through the mist like a whispering spear.

“I heard you."

Chapter Text

A shard of concentrated water sliced through the mist. 

Sara’s eyes widened, and her tengu’s quick reflexes allowed her to jump back. Ei, who saw it coming, raised her naginata to guard. As the watery spear hit Ei’s own, it exploded into a spray of cold droplets, as when a wave breaks against the rocks.

Ei flicked her spear, sending a cascade of moisture flying sidelong. She narrowed her eyes. 

“That attack was unfamiliar,” she murmured. 

Sara’s golden eyes widened, and she ran through every foe she could possibly think of. She began to pull her sword from its sheath, but the sound of a splash behind her pulled her attention.

Where the raindrops had fallen there formed a small puddle in the sand. From it rose crystal shards, as clear and reflective as a mirror, that began to spin a few feet above the ground. 

Ei noticed this, and raised Engulfing Lightning to strike, but as Sara watched the shards building into the shape of a flower’s petals, she realized all at once what they were up against.

“Get back!” She called out, her voice echoing in the misty expanse. Ei heard her, and began to turn, but there wasn’t enough time. 

Sara reacted, using her speed to teleport, once to Ei, and then after hastily grabbing her, quickly away, putting as much distance as she could between them and the spinning flower. She could feel Ei tensing in her grasp. A handful of black crowfeathers drifted, hanging in the air where the pair had once stood.

“What--” Ei began to protest, but she stopped short as the flower exploded into a torrent of hydro-aspected shards, as sharp and dangerous as a thousand tiny razorblades. The crowfeather covered the blast like a blanket, and the shards dropped lifelessly to the ground, as harmless as rain.

“A Mirror Maiden,” Sara breathed, pulling her bow and knocking an arrow, aiming skillfully into the direction from whence the water spear had come.

“An unknown foe, but surely no match for the two of us,” Ei murmured, holding her spear within one confident hand. 

“Stay alert,” Sara warned, “this fatui mage uses a hydro delusion. A mirror.”

She ran through her knowledge banks and found them severely lacking. She had heard tell of this enemy, but had never fought one directly during her time as the Shogun’s General, and in the back of her mind she bitterly knew the reason why. 

The mist settled, hanging before them like a curtain of silken particles. Goosebumps rose on Sara’s shoulders as the air temperature dropped further.

“A gift,” the cold, saccharine voice of the mage dripped, slow as honey, from the depths of the mist, “from her Majesty.”

A figure materialized in the distance, details covered by the foggy dew. Sara narrowed her eyes to see more clearly. Taller than any person Sara had ever seen, the Mirror Maiden was dressed in a flowing robe, and a detailed mask that covered her eyes, but not her mouth.

She was smiling. 

Sara’s eyes widened, and she released the arrow. It screamed through the damp air, but when it neared the mage, she vanished, and only the misty particles moved in place of her absence.

“I see,” Ei whispered, as Sara began to pull another arrow from her quiver.

The shrill ring of scratching glass pierced Sara’s ears as something huge slid into existence behind them.

A tall, glistening, tri fold mirror; thicker at the top than the base, stood in the sand behind them. It shined as it reflected the glimmering mist. 

It happened so fast that Sara could hardly react, but Ei had been faster. She charged towards the mirror, pulling Engulfing Lightning back for a thundering thrust.

As the spear shot forward, Sara thought that victory might be assured. The mirror had only fully formed as the naginata’s sharp point powered towards it. In her mind, Sara could imagine the glass shattering and falling into the sandy path at their feet.

But instead, a gloved hand shot out from within the depths of the mirror, powerfully grabbing the shaft of Ei’s spear, and pulled. Ei lost her bearings and flew towards the mirror. 

There was only enough time for Sara to desperately call her name before Ei was absorbed within the mirror’s reflective surface.

And just like that, she was gone.

Alone, in the echoing mist, Sara did the only thing she could think of in that moment, and ran frantically towards the mirror.

Just as the reflective glass of the mirror began to shimmer and fade, Sara jumped fearlessly into it and fell through the other side. She sucked in a sharp breath. It felt like plummeting through a chill waterfall. 

Her ears began to ring.

And then, everything faded to a blinding white.

When Sara opened her eyes, she stood before the mirror she had fallen through. She looked down at the base of it, and in the reflection she saw her geta, scuffed from her travels. 

She was wearing a long robe that covered her legs, beautifully decorated in pale blue and turquoise cloud patterns. A bronzed breastplate was affixed to her chest.

Her eyes travelled upward.

At first, she noticed the tengu mask, crimson red with dark eye sockets as black as the void.

Then, she noticed the long, dark hair. So unlike her own. 

She faltered, and looked into her reflection, and all at once she realized that what she saw there was not her reflection at all.

Another tengu like herself, dressed in the Shogunate’s ceremonial armor, stood across the mirror’s gap, in much the same pose as she. 

They raised their eyes in unison. Both of them shining a crystallized amber-gold, burning as a sunset burns against the horizon. 

“Who are you?” 

Her voice echoed into the mist that surrounded her.

“I am your reflection, but my name is different. You may call me Sasayuri.”

“Sasayuri,” Sara breathed. An unfamiliar name. And yet...

“No. This can’t be right,” Sara argued listlessly. “You can’t be my reflection, when we don’t look alike.”

“And yet, our hearts are one and the same.”

“Our hearts…” 

Sara realized that her heart was racing, as if some battle had only recently occurred. Her mind felt fogged over, as if she were missing some important detail.

Sara sucked in a sharp breath and tried to remember what had brought her here. 

“Why are we here?”

“We have always been here, and we will always be here.” Sasayuri’s melodic voice replied, “as that is Ei’s wish.”

“Ei...” Sara breathed as her heart swelled. That name stirred something within her heart, and she knew without needing to know exactly why, that Ei was important to her.

Sasayuri’s gloved hand reached out, and as Sara watched, expecting their fingers to hit the mirror’s surface on the other side, she gasped to find their hand reaching through it.

Sasayuri’s outstretched fingers reached towards her.

“We made a promise,” Sasayuri’s voice lowered imperceptibly, “you and I.”

Time felt different; nonexistent. Still, there was an element of danger that permeated the cold, damp air, arcing in the back of her mind like a tiny spark of light.

“A promise to Ei,” Sara murmured. She felt the sting of determined loyalty; the sin of her own stubborn pride. She could feel it, pulling at her heartstrings; pulling her towards the mirror’s surface.

She lowered her eyes, and looked down at her hand. Her knuckles. There was a beautiful memory there, and she strained to recapture it.

Sasayuri’s hand reached further. 

“I can show you how to honor her, for all eternity,” Sasayuri’s voice whispered.

Slowly, Sara raised her eyes.

Ei opened her eyes.

Her heart ached at her reflection. 

Because it was, if nothing else, her reflection. 

The pacifist to her warrior. The lightning to her thunder. The sun to her moon.

The light to her shadow. 

“Makoto,” Ei breathed unquestioningly. 

Makoto smiled. 

“Ei.”

“I’ve missed you,” Ei’s voice cracked as her throat went dry, “so very much.”

“And I, you.”

Ei didn’t notice as the mist encroached around her, reflecting in the mirror and coming down from the sky above. All she saw, all she could see, was Makoto, reflected in the mirror’s crystalline surface. 

Ei sighed as tears threatened her eyes.

“Why do you weep?” Makoto asked consolingly.

“I never thought I’d see you again.”

“I thought as much myself, but now we can see each other, always.”

“Always...” Ei breathed.

“For all eternity.”

Ei stared into the mirror, lavender eyes widening as a hand that looked much like her own, raised up and reached out, traveling past the mirror’s surface, towards her trembling frame.

Makoto’s hand was so, so close.

“There is so much I want to tell you,” Ei breathed.

“I know.”

“So much has happened, since--”

“Ei.” Makoto’s voice cut Ei’s own. “I know.”

Her hand came closer, only inches away. All it would take was for Ei to reach out, and then... 

“Come with me, and we shall be as we once were.”

Ei lifted her hand, palm facing upwards; fingers outstretched. 

Something struggled within her heart, pulling her back. What was it? 

That feeling… it felt so familiar. The polar opposite of indifference.

A single black feather floated down from above, zig-zagging in the damp, dead air. It dropped into Ei’s open palm.

Ei glanced down at it. 

And then, her lavender eyes widened, and everything came back to her.

“Not again,” a voice rasped from the mist. 

Ei looked wildly up into the mirror.

The Mirror Maiden was there, where Makoto had once been. Her hand, larger and paler, was still reaching out. The mage leaned forward before Ei had a chance to jump back, and grabbed her by the sash of her robe.

Immediately, Ei attempted to summon the Plane of Euthymia, but nothing happened. Wherever she was, she could not connect to the plane. Her heart beat hard in her chest.

Ei’s eyes narrowed as the Mirror Maiden pulled her towards the mirror’s surface. Her own hands shot up in an attempt to tear the Maiden’s hand away, but her grip was as strong as iron.

“If not by illusion, then by force,” the Mirror Maiden growled, dragging Ei closer. 

Ei closed her eyes, and willed the Musou Isshin to appear. Her eyes snapped open as the sword began to slide from the depths of her heart, but as she reached to grasp it, the mage took a vice-like hold on her wrist.

Ei’s feet made tracks in the sand as the mage pulled her closer. She struggled against her, desperately reaching for her blade.

Just as her boots were about to hit the mirror’s surface, she heard the sound of thunder from high above.

And then she heard another sound. A familiar voice that made her heart soar.

“Ei!” 

Sara’s voice came down from the building storm. The violent wind scattered the mist, and all around them the blur of a pure white landscape remained. Ei felt the power of the tempest, and took in a gulping breath of crackling, electric air.

A bolt of lightning split the sky as it hit the Mirror Maiden’s wrist. She howled and tore her hand away as electric fire burned through her. The force of it sent Ei falling backward. 

“Insolence will be punished!” The mage’s shrill voice rose above the bellowing thunder. She began to move her uninjured hand in articulate gestures, and as she conjured, the mirror’s reflective surface began to dim and become opaque, as if the mirror were slowly turning to stone.

“Punish this!” 

Sara’s voice, closer now, roared through the sky as she shot down from the clouds and landed beside Ei. Bolts of lightning scattered all around her, traveling towards the Mirror Maiden, who paused from her conjuring to dodge.

“Now’s our chance!”

Sara caught Ei before she fell back. Her dark double pair of wings were extended, and her short hair blew in the wind. 

Sara looked down at her, and her meaningful, desperate expression told Ei everything she needed to know.

Ei’s eyes widened, and she nodded in agreement.

Then, with Ei cradled in one arm, Sara skillfully pulled the Musou Isshin from Ei’s heart, and struck the mirror’s surface with a mighty blow.

The mirror shattered in unison with the Maiden’s scream, and echoed momentarily, before the mirror cracked in every direction, and each shard fell, dropping into the white sand at their feet.

The Musou Isshin, having served its purpose, faded away to warm, fiery points of light that caressed Sara’s trembling fingers.

Seirai Island, and the barren fields of Kouseiki Village, stood in the portal where the mirror’s reflection had once been. 

The pair glanced at each other, and together they made their way past the mirror’s threshold. 

As they reached the other side, the remnants of the mirror dropped away to a puddle of water. The mist dispersed, and all that remained was a singular, shining prism, resting in the watery, purple sand.

Ei moved in Sara’s arms, and Sara blushed to realize she had still been holding her. 

She watched as Ei reached down to take the prism in her hands. It reflected light, refracting it within itself, twisting and turning it in illusory angles. 

“I greatly underestimated the power of that mage,” Ei began quietly as she looked upon the prism in her hand. 

“The power of illusion,” Sara breathed, thinking back to all that had happened, and all she had seen. She glanced down at her hand.

When she looked up, she found Ei watching her. She blushed and swallowed thickly, and suddenly the feeling of pulling the Musou Isshin, watching as the sword slid from Ei's chest, the feeling of the weight of the blade in her hand… 

“Illusion,” Ei began quietly, as she dropped the prism into her robe’s pocket, “cannot hold a candle to truth.”

Sara stared back at her. She realized her wings were still unfolded. The wind blew a scant few feathers into the air. 

Ei watched the feathers float away into the sky, and out across the dark waters of the distant ocean.

Sara’s heart ached with longing as she watched Ei smile.

“I need to tell you something--”

“I have a truth to speak--”

And all at once they said much the same thing in almost perfect unison, as if one heart stood reflected by the other. 

Chapter Text

They set up camp just outside the village; away from the empty, ruined houses.

Ei watched in silence as Sara built a fire.

They had agreed to find a safer spot before continuing any sort of conversation, and every minute that dragged by was harder to bear than the last. Neither of the pair could hardly keep their words from spilling out, now that the desire to be truthful had presented itself.

Sara worked the embers into a hungry flame.

“That should hold us over until sunrise,” Sara murmured as she watched the fire burn; the shimmering flames reflected in her golden eyes.

She glanced over to Ei, and watched as her companion pulled the polarizing prism from her pocket and held it before the light of the fire. 

“Tendrils of flame, reflected within the prism’s heart, dance here,” Ei murmured softly, and then she looked up at Sara.

“Would you care to see?”

Sara blushed at the invitation of closeness, but nodded all the same. She moved to where Ei sat upon her blanket. Ei made room for her, and when Sara had settled beside her she held the prism between her fingers up before her eyes.

“What do you see?” Ei asked curiously.

“The fire looks captured; struggling,” Sara murmured thoughtfully, “trapped, within the prism’s many facets.”

Ei’s lips parted, and she glanced at Sara searchingly.

“But the prism’s reflection is not the truth,” Sara added, shying away from Ei’s pointed gaze. 

“Well said,” Ei agreed as she made to put the prism back into her pocket.

“Let us tell some truths,” Ei continued quietly, her words alone drawing Sara’s breathless gaze back to her, “of our own.”

Sara nodded slightly, and waited for her to continue.

“I had mentioned, vaguely, of business in Seirai. But I should tell you now, that that business was you.”

“Me?” Sara’s eyes widened, and her heart jumped up into her throat.

“I came here for no reason other than to come here with you,” Ei confided.

“Why?” Sara asked breathlessly. The idea that she had been the reason had never even occurred to her.

“Something… happened here. To someone that was important to me,” Ei began, emotion coloring her words, and making Sara’s heart ache. 

“I didn’t want you to find a similar fate,” Ei continued, “as that other person, who, might I add, I am reminded of by you.”

“Someone that I remind you of...” Sara trailed off, mind working as she thought through everything that had happened.

“May I ask you,” Ei breathed, and she leaned closer, a strand of her hair falling across her face as she looked into Sara’s amber eyes, “what it was, that you saw within the mirror’s reflection?”

“Sasayuri…” Sara began, and then she realized all at once that who she had seen, and who Ei now referred to, were one and the same. Her eyes widened at the realization, and Ei’s eyes softened as she watched her put it all together.

“Another bravely loyal tengu general,” Ei offered, “who came before you, and then left me, right here on this very isle.”

“I can see now why you would be so concerned with my coming here,” Sara murmured, brows creasing as her heart trembled at the thought of Ei, worrying over her safety.

“I won’t let that happen again,” Ei resolved with a whisper. 

“It almost did,” Sara replied quietly, “in the Mirror Maiden’s delusion. Sasayuri’s words drew me in. Words of loyalty, and honor, and pride.”

“How did you fight against it?” Ei asked desperately.

“I had been promised something that I knew was a lie. They had said that I could honor you, for all eternity,” Sara’s words shook as she remembered all that had been said.

She glanced at Ei, and found her fully engaged, hanging on Sara’s every word. Sara looked down at her hands.

“But I realized that you wouldn’t have wanted me to leave you alone for the sake of honor. And I...” she paused, trying to find the words, “I realized that I didn’t want that, either.”

As Sara’s eyes rested on her own hands, they widened to find Ei’s hand reaching out to rest there upon her own. Ei squeezed her hand, and Sara pulled her eyes up to meet her meaningful gaze. 

Ei was smiling, and her cool lavender eyes seemed full and bright, and Sara felt courage, and did not shrink away from the way she looked at her. 

“You’re stronger than you know, Sara.”

“I’m beginning to think you’re right,” Sara replied, blushing furiously.

“I… was not strong,” Ei murmured, her voice tinged with regret, “before the mirror’s reflection; before Makoto’s memory, I nearly crumbled.”

Sara remembered the illusion she had seen in Ei’s delusion. She had seen Makoto, in the mirror’s reflection, from high above, just before she transformed into the Mirror Maiden’s harrowing visage. 

She remembered seeing Ei, locked up, and frozen before the mirror. Her palm extended; reaching out to take hold of that which had been lost long ago.

“It shows how deeply you care,” Sara soothed.

“It was you, who showed me the truth,” Ei murmured smilingly, “all it took was one fluttering feather, to bring it all back.”

Ei looked at Sara, and Sara felt herself go still. 

“You amaze me.”

“I… amaze you?” Sara breathed in awe. 

“Everything about you,” Ei whispered. 

Sara swallowed thickly. The fire crackled beside them as the sky darkened towards night. 

“You’re far more amazing than I,” Sara mumbled, feeling very out of her depth. 

“And yet, it was you who saved me,” Ei pointed out gently; adoringly. Her tender tone was not lost on Sara, who felt a rush of pleasure at the way Ei’s voice caressed her senses; the strength of her words, and the feeling of Ei’s fingers, giving Sara’s hand a light squeeze.

Sara noticed a stray strand of indigo hair, falling across Ei’s eyes. Before she knew it, Sara had raised her hand, and gently brushed it back behind Ei’s ear. 

Ei’s lips parted, and she raised her free hand, capturing Sara’s own hand in a gentle embrace. She held Sara’s warm palm to the side of her cheek.

Sara willed her fingers not to tremble, holding her breath so that she could cradle Ei’s cheek with confidence, but her fingers twitched and she released a small, stilted breath.

Ei noticed, and her lidded eyes opened back up to search Sara’s expression.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m more than alright,” Sara breathed immediately, and then her voice became more subdued, “it’s just that I’ve never…”

Touched someone quite like this.

Sara’s eyes narrowed and a self-deprecating voice reminded her how foolish what she had meant to say would sound.

Ei’s eyes narrowed with delight, and her lips curved into a simpering smile. 

“It might as well be new to me, too,” she offered quietly, “for how long it has been since I’ve felt another’s touch.”

Sara’s eyes widened, and she bit the side of her cheek as Ei’s words echoed within her mind.

“Do you find it enjoyable?” Sara queried, blushing at her statement.

Ei nuzzled her cheek into Sara’s hand, running her fingers down along Sara’s wrist.

“Quite enjoyable,” she breathed, smiling up at her.

Sara sucked in a breath. 

“That makes two of us,” Sara murmured, and then, with a surge of confidence, “I can hold more than just your cheek, if that pleases you.”

And she opened herself up, widening her arms so that Ei could crawl into her embrace. Ei took the invitation, shuffling herself into Sara’s space and resting against Sara’s chest. Her head lying upon Sara’s muscular shoulder.

Sara held herself still, holding her breath as she felt Ei take in a breath, and her chest pressed up against her own. She was so soft, and warm, and beautiful in Sara’s powerful arms.

“It seems you excel at even this,” Ei offered sweetly.

“A natural talent, I suppose,” Sara replied jokingly.

Ei laughed gently, and then was quiet once more. At their backs, the sound of the ocean’s waves crashed; the tide had come in and the water lapped against the beach. Distant thunder seemed a perfect lullaby. Behind the clouds, Ei could feel the bright points of the stars in their constellations, twinkling in the sky.

Sara tentatively, reverently touched the length of Ei’s braid, trailing her fingers up each braided strand. Ei sighed, and relaxed herself against her companion.

As Sara’s hand found Ei’s hairpiece, she paused. She had never quite noticed it’s beauty, but up close she could see it’s details more clearly. There was a small, decorated fan dyed a royal violet, with small flower buds hanging behind it, and larger, five-petaled flowers of that same color but pure white on the inside. An intricate, golden piece of jewelry arced upwards. 

It looked subtly triumphant, elegantly dangerous, and exceedingly lovely, resting there in her hair.

Ei noticed Sara’s focus, and smiled.

“Do you like my hairpin?” She asked casually. “Part of it used to be Makoto’s. The other half is one I’ve always worn. I combined the two, after she was gone.”

Sara’s heart ached, and she couldn't help but bring her arms around Ei, to hold her steady as Ei sighed against her chest. 

“It’s beautiful,” Sara breathed, and then, she motioned to the larger flower, that was a deep periwinkle blue with a white center.

“What flower is this?”

“Ah,” Ei remarked easily, “the bellflower. Also known as a balloon flower for the way its buds puff up before they bloom. Platycodon, in older times.”

“Platycodon,” Sara echoed. The word felt strange as it rolled off her tongue.

“It symbolizes endless love, and honesty,” Ei added quietly.

Sara shivered as Ei ran her hands up along her forearm and past her gauntlet. She trailed her nails delicately across Sara’s upper arm. 

“I like this flower,” Sara murmured. 

“Perhaps we can find one for you as well. They bloom in late summer. We could hike up Mt. Yougou, and camp beneath a clear sky. Miko knows of a spring nearby, where we might cool off and find shade from the summer heat.”

Ei’s voice filled with excitement, and Sara’s heart swelled as she listened to Ei ramble on about the chance of future adventures. 

“I’d like that,” Sara murmured, and then, her voice became subdued, “once we’re finished here.”

“Of course,” Ei replied simply, “I hadn’t meant to lead us off task.”

“Not at all. It’s just that… I’m beginning to regret coming here in the first place,” Sara confided.

Ei looked up into her eyes.

“What is it that concerns you?”

“I don’t feel like I have a good plan, or a plan at all, really,” Sara murmured.

“Perhaps I can help with that.”

Sara told Ei about her dream that had come to her on the night before her departure; of the boy who jumped from the ledge, and the Thunderbird, who had spoken to her, a tengu general, as if she were its equal. 

Ei, curled comfortably in Sara’s arms, said little as she listened, brows furrowing as she thought it all through. 

“I should have told you sooner,” Sara muttered, “but it felt foolish. I didn’t trust my feelings on the matter.”

“I know the feeling,” Ei murmured as she offered her a consoling, apologetic smile, “as I did much the same myself.”

And then, Ei told Sara of her own dream, and the vision of Sasayuri, willingly wandering Seirai Island amidst the cry of the bird that had drawn them, off in the distance.

“Your dream and mine seem inextricably linked,” Sara pointed out in realization.

“Indeed,” Ei agreed, “they seem almost two halves to one whole.”

“What should we do now?”

“Continue to search Seirai Island for the force that has deigned to show us these visions.”

Sara nodded, and stilled as Ei stirred within her arms. 

“But as of right now, I think you and I should get some rest.”

After the lantern had been turned down and Sara had crawled into her sleeping bag, she lay there, unable to sleep as she listened to her heart race. She listened as Ei removed her hairpin, holding her breath.

“Sara?”

“Yes?” Sara replied immediately, eyes opening to stare at the fabric of the tent.

“By the campfire, when we held each other,” Ei began tentatively, “can we do that again?”

“Do you mean… right now?” Sara’s eyes widened. 

“Yes,” Ei replied simply.

Sara turned to face her. She could barely see her through the darkness, but when she gave a nod Ei smiled and came closer. Sara unzipped her sleeping bag and pushed herself to one edge so that Ei could fit there with her.

Ei pressed her back against Sara’s chest, and her toned hamstrings brushed against Sara’s powerful thighs. Sara swallowed thickly; unsure of where to place her hands.

“Comfortable?” Ei breathed; the thrill of feeling Sara’s muscular frame behind her was not lost on her. 

“I can sleep through anything,” Sara replied, blushing immediately at her idiotic statement.

Ei smiled, and laughed. 

Sara moved her arm, resting it against Ei’s side. 

“Is this okay?” She stuttered.

“Yes,” Ei confirmed as she pressed herself comfortably against Sara. 

“If I moved in a way that bothered you, would you tell me?” Sara asked.

“Yes,” Ei repeated, blushing as Sara’s hand brushed against her abs. 

Sara released a relieved sigh and tried to relax against her pillow. She closed her eyes. She could smell Ei’s hair, and it helped her to find comfort. In fact, the longer she laid there, the more she realized how right this felt. 

She had never dreamed of being this close to someone. She had never felt deserving. The fantasy of it felt as fleeting as a spring shower, and yet here she was. 

A feeling surged from within her, and she wanted to say something then. Something more. But there were no words, only the way she felt, and she could not place the feeling… and so she let the feeling pass through her, and eventually, with Ei in her arms, she began to drift off to sleep.

Ei remained awake for some time after, looking upon her hairpin in the near darkness. Makoto’s fan glinted in the slim bit of light. 

Ei raised her hand to hold Sara’s own, there at her side. Tearfully, she closed her eyes, and in her heart she remembered Makoto, and Sasayuri, and all the joy she had shared with them. Then, she looked upon the joy she felt presently, with Sara, and the thought of that allowed sleep to come for her in turn.

Chapter Text

The sound of singing drifted into Sara’s ears. She opened her eyes and found herself laying uncomfortably upon a thick slab of stone in an empty, unfamiliar room. 

She pushed herself up and stood, albeit unsteadily. Her mind felt cloudy and she couldn’t place her location. She stood there, trying to work things out, looking around the barren chamber as the sound of the song grew louder.

Then, the song ceased, and in the silence the door creaked open. 

The boy from her dreams stood in the doorway’s threshold.

He was smiling as he looked up at her with his large, dark eyes.

Ei opened her eyes and drew in a harsh breath. 

She was in what appeared to be a sacred ceremonial hall. There were four high walls around her, but no ceiling. The sky above was clear and black as night. 

At the center of the room, she stood. There was a stone dais before her, and she noticed a golden, intricately decorated goblet waiting there upon it. As she drew closer, she realized the goblet was full of a rich, dark-colored liquid.

Suddenly, inexplicably, she was overcome with a ravenous thirst. 

She reached two shaking hands out towards the goblet. 

Sara followed the boy down countless long hallways of stone. He had begun to sing again, and she tracked him by the melody, equal parts sorrowful and serene, until she came to a closed door at the end of the path.

The boy was nowhere to be found, but the door remained there before her.

She opened it, and her eyes widened.

At the center of the room stood Ei. She was drinking deeply from a goblet, and crimson liquid spilled from the sides of her lips; glistening as it dripped down her long throat.

When Sara entered, Ei halted and pushed the goblet away. She took in a harsh breath.

“Sara…?” Ei’s voice shook.

Then, Ei’s eyes widened as she looked upon her further, and Sara wondered why she held so much concern. 

Ei was looking at Sara’s hands. 

Sara followed her gaze, looking down at her own hands, and all at once she saw the blood, crimson as it ran past her wrists and dripped from her fingertips, and knew it was her own.

The knowledge that it was her blood in Ei’s cup came to her, and she felt… surprisingly relieved. A youthful, sing-song voice reminded her that this was her sworn duty. Her purpose.

Sara leaned into that freeing feeling.

For Ei, she would do anything. 

Anything.

She felt faint, knees buckling as she made her way towards the center of the room. Ei hurried to meet her, and Sara fell into her arms. 

“Was this what you wanted?” Sara breathed pleadingly.

“This isn’t real,” Ei replied quietly as her eyes narrowed, and she cradled Sara in her arms.

And just like that, Sara startled awake. 

The sun had not yet risen, and even the wind had died down. The tent was still dark, and nearly silent, save for the twin set of their hushed breaths. 

Ei was there beside Sara, and held her in her arms. In the night they had switched places, and now Sara could feel Ei’s soft, warm breaths tickling her bare shoulders as Ei rested up against her back.

“Are you alright?” Ei murmured into her ear.

“I had a dream…” Sara began, voice shaking.

“A nightmare,” Ei corrected gently. “One that we shared together.”

Sara froze in Ei’s arms. 

“Did you…?” Sara trailed off.

“I woke us, once I came to my senses,” Ei whispered, her breath tickling the hairs on Sara’s shoulders. 

“I saw the boy again,” Sara murmured as she remembered his kind, dark eyes, and his beautiful voice. “He led me to you.”

“It felt like…” Sara began, struggling as she processed what had happened in the dream, and tried to piece together her feelings, “it felt like I was supposed to sacrifice myself... for you.”

Ei frowned and clutched at the fabric of Sara’s top. She remembered the dire feeling of unquenchable need she had experienced, standing before the goblet. And when she had finally drunk from it… the power she had felt was beyond imagination.

Ei released a shuddering breath. 

“Another vision,” Ei breathed, “meant to test our will.”

Sara nodded, and stirred in Ei’s arms.

“Did you… sleep well?” Sara stuttered, “besides the nightmare, I mean.”

“Quite well,” Ei replied easily, as Sara’s muscular frame pressed against her own.

“Being so close has kept us warm.”

“Glad to be of service,” Sara joked, blushing as Ei’s fingers trailed up and down her forearm. An idle movement, but one that set Sara’s heart aflame. 

“The only question now,” Ei playfully added, “is how we’ll ever find the will to leave the tent.” 

“I’ve never been out of bed after sunrise,” Sara murmured, “so that would be a first.”

“Our resident early riser,” Ei murmured affectionately, “will you be alright?

“I’ll manage,” Sara teased, and then she closed her eyes and allowed herself to enjoy Ei’s warmth, and the gentle way she held her. 

Before she knew it, she was already beginning to doze off again, and at the edge of sleep she could feel the subtle stroking of Ei’s fingertips through strands of her short, dark hair.

Just as the sun began to rise, and morning light colored the tent, Sara drifted back to wakefulness. 

She opened her amber eyes.

Ei had turned away from her, and appeared to be still sleeping. Sara tried not to stir. Resting like this had become so comfortably effortless, in the span of but a single night. 

Ei’s braid had been pushed to one side, revealing her naked back and the nape of her neck. And there on her back, just above the top of her spine, Sara noticed a small, violet mark.

Sara held her breath as she stared at the electro symbol that nearly seemed to glow upon Ei’s smooth skin. 

Sara reached out to touch it with something like reverence.

The mark was hardly larger than a single Mora. 

Sara had never seen it before. Not in all her years of service.

But then again, she had never been this close to the Raiden Shogun, or Ei, or… anyone. 

She reflected on all those years; all that energy spent on forcing the strictest forms of isolation upon herself. In hindsight, she wondered how she had been so resolute. It seemed impossible now, for her to go back to how things had been before. She just… wasn’t that person anymore.

A thought struck her then, as furiously fast as a bolt of lightning. The realization that all of this, their adventure, their conversations, the intimate time they had spent together… 

All of it would come to an end; someday soon.

They would both go back to Narukami Island; back to Inazuma City.

Back to their separate lives.

Ei, certainly, would go back to her duties as the Raiden Shogun, behind Tenshukaku’s closed doors.

And Sara would go back to... what, exactly?

She tried to remind herself of Inazuma’s need. A nation to run; to rebuild. 

But then, she imagined her simple home. The unmoving, polished lacquerware statues. The cold wooden floor. The empty bed. 

All at once, she knew that what had sated her before was no longer enough. And the thought of that… frightened her. 

How had she let her heart open so quickly; and so vastly? And would she be able to close it back up, after all that had happened?

Sara felt Ei stir beside her, and she shudderingly pulled her fingers away. She slammed her eyes shut, and counted to five. The frustrated, pitiful tears that had threatened to come left just as quickly.

Ei sighed beside her. 

“We managed to sleep in after all,” Ei murmured, and Sara’s heart broke all over again to hear the softness of her voice.

“Yes,” Sara blurted out.

There was a silence then, that lasted longer than Sara could have thought possible. Ei was awake, but she hadn’t yet moved.

“Did you know,” Ei began, and her quiet voice broke the silence so suddenly that Sara almost gasped, being so on edge already.

“Yes...?” Sara replied hurriedly, blushing at having responded before Ei could finish her statement.

“Did you know,” Ei repeated gently, still facing away from Sara, so that all Sara could focus on was her braided hair, and her muscular shoulders, and the tiny hairs that stood upon the skin at the nape of her neck, “that I sometimes feel the hopes and dreams of those around me?”

Sara sucked in a silent breath and held it. Ei’s voice had changed, from lilting and soft to something more mysteriously subtle. Not exactly threatening, but powerful in a way that made Sara’s heart throb within her chest.

“I didn’t,” Sara breathed.

“I can feel them as strongly as if they were my own,” Ei continued. 

Sara’s lips parted as she struggled to find an appropriate response.

“And when those wishes flicker, as a candle’s flame might in a strong wind,” Ei continued on, moving as she spoke and turning in the sleeping bag so that she faced Sara. Her eyes were kind and steady. She looked upon Sara’s parted lips, and then rested on her widened eyes.

“I can feel it,” Ei finished in a whisper. 

There was a pause.

“Why has your ambition faltered, Sara?” Ei asked with a careful tenderness.

“My ambition…” Sara echoed unsteadily. 

“Normally, I would let this feeling pass,” Ei murmured. She breathed in deeply, and her chest pressed against Sara’s own in the small confines of their sleeping bag. Their faces were so close that Sara could see the fine details of Ei’s brilliant eyes; and the small, dark mark at the corner of one eye that she had often overlooked. 

“But now that we are in this together. Now that we’re so close. It’s impossible for me to ignore the pensive stirrings of your heart.”

“No, I--” Sara stuttered, “I understand. I was… lost. Lost within my own thoughts. I hardly expect it to make sense, to someone as utterly composed as you.” 

Sara’s cheeks colored in shame. Her emotions had overwhelmed her, and been so strong as to pervade Ei’s own. 

“Mortal hearts,” Ei murmured affectionately, and Sara tilted her head as Ei smiled.

“I had thought, for so very long, that I did not, could not understand them. I, who had been born within shadow and bred for martial domination. A warrior, through and through, with only a warrior’s heart to show for it.”

Sara held her breath as she listened. Ei’s voice was beautiful, sorrowful; accepting. 

“But you have shown me how wrong I was,” Ei breathed, looking into Sara’s golden eyes.

Ei lifted her hand, and placed it upon Sara’s chest, right above her heart.

“I’m sorry,” Sara stuttered, eyes narrowing as if in pain despite how soft Ei’s touch had been, “I don’t mean to worry you.”

Ei smiled sadly. 

“When I had chosen to take my people’s visions; their ambitions , it was because I saw desire as something uncontrollable. As dangerously chaotic as the hearts and minds of the very people who worshipped me, and yet who I felt unable to understand.”

Ei’s eyes narrowed, growing hard for a moment as the memory of her past actions took hold. Sara’s heart ached to see her judging herself so harshly, but she recognized that feeling well.

“I thought that If I took away their most fervent wishes, I would be protecting them from… themselves,” Ei whispered sadly. 

“But now I realize the importance of listening to one another’s hearts,” she pressed her hand against Sara’s chest, perhaps to remind her how close they were.

“And Sara, I want to listen to yours.”

Sara closed her eyes, and released a stifled sigh. She knew that Ei was patiently waiting for her to speak. And with Ei’s hand resting there for comfort, and Ei’s words to guide her, Sara worked up the courage to do so.

“I don’t want this to end,” Sara confided truthfully.

“It doesn’t have to,” Ei reminded gently. 

“But after this is all over... you’ll go back to your responsibilities. I’ll go back to mine.  Everything will go back to how it once was.”

“I can assure you that nothing is as it once was,” Ei consoled, “not you, nor I. Nor the whole of Inazuma.”

Sara opened her eyes.

“But, Inazuma needs you.”

“Inazuma needs the Raiden Shogun,” Ei whispered pointedly, “I, on the other hand, will be quite free to do as I please.”

Sara stewed over Ei’s words. She tried to let them sink in. She wanted to believe in the possibility of… something more, after all of this was over. More adventures. More conversations. More closeness.

She really wanted to believe.

“I only mean to put your heart at ease,” Ei added as she watched Sara struggle with her emotions, “but I do apologize, if I’m being too forward.” 

“It’s not too forward,” Sara responded, voice clipped as she swallowed thickly. Ei’s hand was still resting on her chest. It was impossible not to feel her fingers, soft above the thin black fabric of her top.

“I’m glad we were able to talk about it,” Sara added.

“As am I,” Ei affirmed smilingly. 

The early morning had drawn itself out, the wind was beginning to pick up outside. Sara could hear distant waves crashing against the rocks as a momentary silence washed over the tent.

Sara realized that she could stay like this forever, with Ei by her side. 

Sara glanced down at Ei’s hand, still on her chest. When she looked back up to meet her gaze, Ei’s expression had changed. Her eyes had softened, and her lips had parted. Sara’s heart jumped up into her throat, and she struggled to swallow it back down. 

“S-should we… get going?” Sara blurted out.

Her words seemed to snap Ei out of whatever reverie she had found herself in, and her lavender-hued eyes regained their focus. 

“Of course,” Ei murmured, cheeks coloring lightly pink as she pulled her hand away and sat up. 

Sara followed suit, and crawled from the sleeping bag. She watched as Ei rose, and bent down to pin her hairpin back into her hair. 

She wondered, as she watched her affix her hairpin, what might have happened then, if she had not spoken up. She remembered the way Ei’s expression had changed, and it sent an electric spark jolting through her core. 

She wondered if that chance would present itself again, and what she might have done differently.

And as she readied herself for the day ahead, a new ambition began to form, there in the deepest reaches of her heart.

Chapter Text

Rising late had meant an even later start. Sara tried to push past the instinctive guilt of waking after sunrise as she followed behind Ei, who continued to lead them towards the central island, their destination; Amakumo Peak. 

Every passing day seemed to be bringing them closer to the end of their journey, but Sara had tried not to worry herself with wondering where it all might lead. The Thunderbird had offered battle, but the boy’s message was all too clear. 

It felt as if the end of their journey was leading up to a choice that would need to be made.

She resolved not to think about it.

Sara pulled an Amakumo fruit from her bag and took a tentative nibble. A tiny electro spark tickled at her tongue. She chuckled under her breath.

Ei had turned. She was smiling at Sara’s amusement.

“Enjoyable, isn’t it?”

“Surprisingly so,” Sara agreed as she took another bite. The electricity was a perfect compliment to the fruit’s sweet, juicy flesh. She reached into the bag and tossed a fruit to Ei. 

Ei caught it with one hand, and brought it to her lips. Sara couldn’t look away as her teeth broke the skin, and lightning flickered momentarily as juice dripped from her chin. Then, she blushed and raised the back of her hand to her mouth. 

“Messy to eat,” Ei confided playfully, “but I suppose that’s part of their appeal.”

Sara tried to take a dainty bite of the fruit and avoid said messiness, but found it to be impossible. Forgoing elegance, she tore into it with her teeth, and swallowed thickly as the juice ran past her jaw and the sparks rippled into her throat. 

It felt good to be so unrestrained.

“We’ll need to jump into the ocean after this,” Sara teased, blushing as Ei held her gaze.

Ei laughed lightly, eyes closing mirthfully as she turned to continue their trek. Sara smiled and congratulated herself on having garnered such a response. She found herself wanting more.

“Where are you taking us?”

“A clear stretch of beach, at the northwestern edge of this island. A good place to set up camp, I think.”

Sara thought again of the ocean, and the beach. She thought of Ei, stepping into the dark, motionless water in the dead of night, and how her skin might glow beneath the moon. Sara was unable to pull her thoughts away from what it might feel like, to see Ei turn, waist deep in the water, and beckon to her. She thought of taking her hand in her own, and pulling her close. 

Sara released a shuddering sigh.

“Do you require rest?” Ei called back to her.

“I’m fine,” Sara responded quickly. 

As a heated blush spread across her cheeks and shoulders, she realized that the time spent in the tent had pulled at her senses, with visions of Ei cascading across Sara’s thoughts and shimmering there, like falling water beneath a blazing sun. 

Sara reached up to touch her chest, where Ei’s hand had been the night before. The absence of Ei’s touch hadn’t lessened it’s weight, and as they crossed up a sloping set of hills, Sara could only guess at the feelings that sparked and crackled within. 

Because there was something there; something that Sara struggled to parse or explain. Something that continued to build, and that refused to wait for Sara to make sense of. 

Something powerful, and deep. 

Resonant, in a way that almost frightened her.

And then, she caught herself wondering if Ei could feel it, too.

When Ei had stopped at the hill’s edge and looked out onto Amakumo Peak, Sara had come up next to her, and glanced at her sidelong, watching as she looked off into the distance. The purples and blues of the churning storm above had reflected in her eyes, and Sara wondered for a moment if the rumbling she felt was from the storm’s thunder, or her own fractious heart.

And she realized with a pang of guilt that for all their talking and closeness, she was still struggling to face Ei, and her own feelings, directly.

In the darkness of the tent, or the low, flickering light of the campfire, it was easier to forget herself; to give in. To act.

In the light of day, as a ward of the Kujou clan, and the Raiden Shogun’s trusted General; as Ei’s protector, her own feelings seemed to dampen and become diluted. 

She shook her head lightly in frustration. Why had her thoughts become so circular, and why couldn’t she break free of them after everything Ei had said? Ei had given her comforting words, and glances, and touches. 

Why did she feel so undeserving of them?

“An unfamiliar landmark,” Ei breathed. Her voice snapped Sara back to reality, and she followed Ei’s gaze down to a large expanse of beach where an enormous, ancient-looking warship lay stranded. 

“It looks like a flagship, but who does it belong to?” Sara wondered aloud.

Ei released a breath. Sara glanced at her and saw a pensive expression darkening her features.

“It appears to be one of my own,” Ei nearly whispered.

It was a short walk from the hilltop to the beachfront, and Ei’s pace carried them quickly towards the washed up vessel that almost seemed to grow in size, getting larger as they neared until the height of it nearly filled the sky before them. It cast a long shadow along the dreary beach where it lay, halfway immersed within the sand. It was so large that it’s stern had crashed into the rocky hilltops at the end of the beach. 

Whatever had happened to this vessel had caused it to be pushed back into the beach with what looked like powerful force. But, being so well-constructed, it had mostly remained intact, and it was only time and nature that seemed to deteriorate it. The wooden boards had buckled and sunk in over time, and small branches and green vines had begun to poke through the gaps on the deck. 

A beached ship always felt very forlorn to Sara, who had often battled with those huge, wooden corpses as a backdrop. She had never felt the need to get so close to one as she did now, following Ei as she strode right up to it.

Ei ran her fingers delicately along the aged wood of the battered hull.

Sara stood some ways behind her, watching as Ei raised her head to look up at the ship’s mast, reaching high into the cloudy sky.

“It can't be,” Ei murmured shakingly.

The wind had carried her whispered words to Sara’s ears.

“What is it?” Sara asked with hesitation, and concern. 

To her surprise, Ei didn’t respond. Instead, she walked around the hull’s edge, towards the stern. 

Seeing Ei there like that, with the purple sky above, and the beach behind, and the dark ship looming all around her, suddenly gave Sara an uneasy feeling. A hard gust of wind tore through the beach, blowing fronds of seagrass back and forth, and for a moment Sara felt as inconsequential and flimsy as those thin, green leaves. 

“This vessel,” Ei began, but she stopped short.

“What--” Sara started, but when Ei stopped to listen, Sara did the same.

In the stillness, beyond the wind and the waves, she could hear voices within the ship’s cabin. Two of them. Boisterous; drunken. Laughing and cursing.

She drew her bow silently and crouched down in the shadow of the ship’s edge. Ei pressed herself against the hull to listen further.

“...haven’t found a single mora.”

“We haven’t even started looking! This ship is the Shogunate’s, there has to be…”

As the voices continued, Sara glanced to Ei, who nodded. 

Then, they stood up and crept towards where the sound grew louder; a person-sized hole in the hull near the ship’s stern.

Sara held her breath as she entered. 

It was dark inside the ship’s cabin. Glowing vines of turquoise-blue and light that spilled in from the broken deck above vaguely lit the interior, glistening on the rotting floorboards of the low ceiling and walls, and the broken banisters of the lofty, two-storied space.

The interior of the vessel seemed less like a ship and more like a fortress, but it felt like walking into a haunted graveyard. Sara felt the hair on her neck standing on end as she looked around. Dust shimmered within sharp angles of light. 

The pair crept silently upon the moss-covered walkways, taking care not to bump into the empty cargo boxes, barrels, and crates that had been strewn about the cabin, making their way to a door where a sliver of light peeked from a gap at the floor.

The two voices were louder now, still deep within a heated argument. Sara smiled at that. The element of surprise would certainly be in their favor. 

As they closed in on the door, Ei moved ahead, and before Sara realized what was happening, she had her hand on the door’s iron handle. 

Sara’s heart shot up into her throat as she watched Ei turn the handle. 

The door creaked open.

Inside the room sat two Kairagi. One in dark purple garb, the other in fiery red. They stopped their discussion and turned their heads in unison towards the opened door; towards where Ei stood staring down at them with an effortless glare.

“This is my ship,” Ei’s low, powerful voice pervaded the room, as close to the Raiden Shogun’s resolute demeanor as she ever had been. 

Sara’s mouth dropped open and she made to raise her bow, but the pair of warriors simply rose, slowly, to standing.

“Was your ship,” one of the samurai corrected with a thunderous sneer.

“You abandoned it,” the other one added with a fiery grin.

“Now it’s ours,” they growled together defiantly.

And in the next instant, the two samurai and Ei had drawn their weapons in flashes of steel and light. 

Chapter Text

Before Sara even had a chance to fire an arrow, Ei was already charging forward. Her opponents must have sensed her aggression, and were ready to fend off her strikes. The sound of her spear against their twin swords rang out in the damp, creaky cabin like the toll of a bell.

Sara had bested countless Nobushi in all her years as Inazuma’s defender. Most of them were simply wayward villagers, who, beset with hard times, had chosen to live a vagabond’s life. Kairagi, like the ones that stood before her now, were a special breed; deserters of the Shogunate’s army. Extremely strong-willed and confident, with the skills to back it up. 

Ei twirled Engulfing Lightning in her hands, and easily fended off attacks from either side as the pair made to flank her. Sara shot a barrage of crowfeathers at their feet, and her eyes narrowed with confidence as the feathers exploded into a fine, black mist.

Ei breathed in the dark particles of Sara’s tengu arts. She could feel her power growing, swelling to fit the constraints of her mortal form.

Ei closed her eyes, and there was a stillness; a calm before the storm. As her eyes snapped open, an ear-splitting bolt of lightning crashed through the rickety ceiling of the room, splitting it nearly in two. From above, a shred of brilliant purple light hung in mid-air. A small shard of the Plane of Euthymia, summoned and bound by Ei’s will. 

The red-garbed Kairagi jumped out of the way of the bolt just in time, grunting as he crashed into wooden barrels at the side of the room.

Sara hadn’t even flinched at Ei’s strike, and she narrowed one eye as she closed the other, training her bow on the purple-garbed Kairagi, but her target moved too quickly, and rushed to pull his companion up to his feet. They jumped up from the hole in the ceiling just as Sara’s electro-charged arrow hit the space where they had once been.

Sara glanced at Ei. 

“Kairagi will often fight to the death,” Sara warned, quickly and quietly. 

“So be it,” Ei replied.

They nodded to each other, and then they jumped out onto the deck. 

It was empty. 

Sara looked around, eyes narrowing as she tried to sense their opponent’s location. 

Ei snapped her fingers, and the Plane of Euthymia snapped out of existence, and then back again, splitting the air in two right above her head.

“They haven’t left,” Sara said with a hushed voice. 

“Hiding won’t do any good,” Ei replied easily as she began to turn and look for their opponents at the ship’s bow.

The attack came as Ei turned away.

It was only for a moment, but she had taken her eyes off of Sara, and in that moment the pair of Kairagi had risen into the air from below, swords raised high above their heads. Sara managed to teleport away from one of them, but not the other. 

She barely had a chance to pull her sword and defend, but the weight of his strike bore down on her and the sharp end of his blade slid with a sickening ease into her meaty shoulder. 

Sara clenched her teeth against the pain and powered her arms upwards, pushing the blade that now shined with her blood, up and away.

The purple-garbed Kairagi backed away, and pulled a small, paper-thin talisman from his pocket. In the span of a few seconds, he ran the talisman across his blade, and as he did so, the weapon lit up with a wild, violet flare of electro-aspected energy. 

In the corner of her eye, she could see the red-garbed Kairagi, who Ei had been dealing with, do the same. The deck was alight with a fiery burst of pyro energy as it ignited and set his furious blade aflame.

Sara scrambled to her feet, and held her sword at the ready. 

“The Shogun’s dog,” the electro-Kairagi taunted, “here to do her master’s bidding.”

Such a taunt wouldn’t work on someone as inscrutable as Sara, who had spent a lifetime learning how to hold herself in check. Her stony expression remained, and the samurai before her scowled as he charged forward.

She waited for him to close in, and then she used the move that Ei had used on her during their spar, leading him into an inescapable attack that allowed her to grab him by his belt and throw him to the deck.

She could have ended him right then and there, but a memory rose up from the recesses of her mind. 

When one of a pair of Kairagi is vanquished, the other gains the strength of vengeance, and their power increases ten-fold. 

If Sara bested this one, then Ei’s opponent would be invigorated. 

She hesitated just long enough for the Kairagi to jump back to his feet.

“Too soft. But now you’ll pay, Shogun’s dog!” he barked as a wild grin smeared across his grisled features. Sara sucked in a breath as he charged, sending three powerful strikes of electro her way. She barely had the time to dodge, the sudden movements causing the cut at her shoulder to sear with pain.

She glanced at Ei. She seemed to be in her element, and her battle with the fire-aspected Kairagi seemed less dire and more like a duel. Still, she was commanding, and it seemed surprisingly restrained. Bolts of lightning, from the Plane of Euthymia, nipped at the samurai’s heels as they danced.

“Are you okay?” Ei called out to her as her spear slid off the samurai’s sword with a resounding ring.

“Actually, I--” Sara began, struggling to tell the truth, struggling to let her guard down and be honest, struggling to be less of the Shogun’s General, and more… herself.

“Honestly? I could use some help,” she called back, cheeks burning as her opponent scoffed. 

“Too late for you,” Sara’s opponent growled as he made his way towards her, sword raised high above his head and crackling with flowing, purple bolts of light.

Sara readied herself for the blow, but just as the sword came down, something amazing happened.

Instead of taking the hit, hey eyes widened as Ei kicked the red-garbed Kairagi’s body before her. Sara noticed him struggling, with one hand pinned within the Plane of Euthymia’s purple gap. The other hand, and his fiery sword, were bound by another Plane of Euthymia, and pointed straight out in front of him.

The explosion, when the two aspected swords met each other, lit the deck all around them. It lit Sara’s wide, golden eyes before Ei pulled her to safety. 

And when she looked back, all that was left were the two swords, laying across each other on the charred deck.

Ei had Sara in her arms, and had jumped down to the beach, cradling her there. The sand felt soft and cool against Sara’s burning skin. 

“I’m sorry,” Ei breathed.

“Sorry?” Sara echoed as she looked up at her.

“I hadn’t defeated my opponent. I had been waiting, because--”

Sara smiled, and choked out a laugh.

“I had done much the same.”

Ei shook her head and returned Sara’s smile. Concern and warmth mixed within her bright, lavender eyes.

“I shouldn’t be surprised,” Ei murmured, as she gently pushed a stray, sweaty strand of indigo-hued hair off Sara’s brow. 

“Are you well enough to stand?”

Where once Sara's pride might have forced herself out of Ei’s embrace, she decided then to be more honest with herself.

“I’ll be fine in a moment, but for now I’d like to rest,” she murmured. 

Ei nodded. 

“Allow me to take you back inside the vessel, then. We can get away from the weather, at least.”

Sara nodded, blushing as Ei lifted her easily into her arms and carried her through the hole in the hull, and along the ship’s interior, until they found a room that would suffice.

The room itself was fairly small, practically cozy, if not for the strange, teal blue moss that glowed along the walls. There was a low wooden table at one end, strewn with papers and objects in various states of decay. At the other end of the room was a humble cot. A small, round porthole let some light in, but not much.

Ei set Sara down on the cot and pulled some candles from their bags, placing them around the room. Sara found their low, flickering light to be calming.

“There,” Ei nearly whispered as she lit the final candle, and then settled down comfortably to her knees before Sara’s resting place.

Sara swallowed thickly, and glanced up at the ceiling.

“You don’t need to keep watch over me,” she murmured awkwardly.

“I’ve nothing better to do,” Ei replied factually.

Sara made a pitiful humming sound and closed her eyes. It would be impossible to sleep here, especially knowing that Ei was right there, silently watching. 

Sara listened to the muffled sound of the wind beating against the vessel’s exterior, rattling loose wooden boards and shaking the empty, iron candelabras at the ceiling. 

Her mind wandered back to the battle, and all that had happened.

“What are you thinking about?” Ei asked quietly. 

Sara smiled with her eyes still closed, and spoke her reply.

“You could have defeated both of them at the start. Why leave it up to me?”

Ei was silent for a moment as she pondered Sara’s question.

“I thought you might enjoy it more,” Ei murmured, “to fight together.”

“You’re not wrong,” Sara murmured. 

“But my decision has caused you pain.”

Sara glanced at the wound at her shoulder. Deep enough to bleed, but not so deep as to cause alarm. It would heal, with rest. 

“This kind of pain is one I’m not unused to, with all the many battles I’ve waged,” Sara breathed. 

For you.

Sara didn’t say it, but the words hung in the air between them, and both of them knew it. Sara opened her eyes to look down at her hands, resting there on her lap. They were still slightly shaking. She had really been afraid, hadn’t she? Why had she never felt this way before?

Ei’s hand reached out to just above Sara’s injured shoulder. Her fingertips were cool against Sara’s sweat-sheened skin. Ei reached forward, to help Sara out of her chest piece, her gauntlets and her shoulder guards, until all that remained was her black sleeveless top. 

Then, Ei helped to clean the wound. Gently, she worked away the dried blood, and reached into her pack for a salve of lavender sage. Sara breathed in the flowery scent of it as the balm cooled her skin.

“Does it hurt?” Ei breathed after she had finished, emotion coloring her question.

“Only when I think about it,” Sara joked quietly, with an endearing smile that she hoped would put Ei’s mind at ease.

And then, she watched as Ei’s hands traveled across her skin, along the various scars she had accrued throughout the years. Sara’s breath hitched as Ei found the long one that ran along her neckline and down towards her collarbone. One of her very first, and deeper than most.

Her golden eyes rose to meet Ei’s violet ones. 

“I could make them disappear, if you’d like,” Ei offered in a whisper.

Sara reflected on her words. It wasn’t surprising to her that Ei had such power. Ei’s body, despite all her many battles, was perfectly flawless; always had been.

“I’d rather keep them,” Sara murmured back, cheeks burning with her own honesty. 

“As you wish,” Ei replied with a gentle smile. She ran her hand along Sara’s collarbone, trailing her fingers along the angles and lines of her scars. Her eyes had gone lidded again, and her expression had dipped into something more mysterious; some emotion that Sara couldn’t place.

Sara’s throat worked as she swallowed.

“Do you not,” Sara started with a stutter, “uhm, not enjoy the sight of them?”

“I had never thought such marks beautiful,” Ei whispered, as her head bent lower, and strands of her dark hair fell across Sara’s chest, “until now.”

Sara’s chest tightened as she held her breath. Ei pressed her lips against the lighter-colored, thinner parts of her skin at the base of her neck, just above her jutting collarbone. Ei’s cheeks colored as she felt Sara’s pulse, wild beneath the softness of her lips. 

“I know you wear these scars for me, even if you won’t say it directly,” Ei’s soft voice flowed into Sara’s ears. She could barely focus on the words, as Ei’s warm breath caressed her neck and sent her senses aflame.

Sara was unable to hold back the sigh that released itself from her parted lips. Her eyes fluttered to closing, and she raised a hand up to hold Ei’s shoulder; to steady herself. 

“I know that to rid yourself of them now would be like denying all that you have witnessed and wrought.”

Ei trailed a scant few kisses along the length of the scar that crossed her collarbone. It was reverent; worshipful. Sara’s mind was spinning as emotion surged within her. 

“H-how do you know all of this?” Sara released a shaking sigh. She felt Ei’s lips curve into a soft smile against her skin.

“I have scars, too,” Ei whispered, “though they are not so visible as yours. I, too, have chosen to wear them. To remember them; and to honor them, as you have.”

“I hope they have healed well,” Sara breathed as her eyes became tearful to think of Ei, living through all her years, and all the hurts she must have endured.

“I think they’re finally starting to,” Ei whispered gently.

Then, Ei leaned back up, and Sara immediately felt the absence of her closeness. 

She looked up at her. Ei’s eyes were narrowed with adoration. The purple-orange sunset glistened and reflected there. Sara had forgotten herself, and forgotten where they were altogether. She had very nearly forgotten to breathe.

Again, there was that perfect, present moment. It crashed down onto Sara’s senses like a wave. She felt something. Something she wanted to say, or do. Some overpowering emotion that was stronger than anything ever faced before. An emotion she was beginning to place, but that seemed somehow still impossible to resolve. Like an unflipped uta-garuta card’s final line, hidden in plain sight. There, if only she could find the way forward, and take that chance...

“Rest now, Sara,” Ei soothed. 

And like a bubble floating in the air, the moment burst, and the feeling passed back beneath the surface.

Sara could hardly find the will to close her eyes, but she managed. In the darkness behind her eyelids there were sparks of color and emotion, but as Ei stroked her hair with slow, languid movements, sleep began to find her. 

In the candlelit darkness, beneath a shard of the Seirai sunset’s light, Ei’s eyes fell closed. She heard the words she had wished to say to Sara echoing, over and over again, within her mind, and wondered why she had been unable to say them. 

Chapter Text

When Sara opened her eyes, the first thing she remembered was Ei’s lips, and the way they had felt against her scarred skin. 

I know you wear these scars for me.

Sara took in a sharp, trembling breath and wondered for a moment if it had merely been a dream. 

She felt dizzy to realize that it hadn’t been a dream at all.

All of it, as much a fantasy as Sara could have ever imagined, was quite real; almost painfully so.

She looked around the room and realized she had been left alone. The vessel creaked against the wind as rain hammered against the hull, and if she had not known the ship lay washed ashore it would have felt like she were on high seas.

She made to push herself up, and winced as the semi-healed cut at her shoulder protested with a needling sting of pain. She fell back against the bedding with a sigh and looked up at the cabin’s ceiling, where dusty spiderwebs and glowing vines covered fissures and gaps in the wooden beams. 

Being alone was so... quiet; in a way that Sara hadn’t ever noticed before. In all her time spent isolated she had never quite realized how truly... lonely it felt, to be alone. 

She frowned at the childish naivety of her thoughts, but her feelings pushed willfully past her attempted restraint.

She wondered where Ei had gone.

She wondered when she would be back.

A tiny voice at the back of her mind asked her if she really believed that Ei would be coming back at all.

She shook her head, and slammed her eyes shut. 

Fatigue summoned a restless sleep.

Sara dreamt that she was standing in Tenshukaku’s courtyard. Her men, who wore the Shogunate’s armor, stood in formation before her. She could not see their faces behind the shadow of their helmets.

They were waiting for her to say something. 

She looked back behind her, and noticed that Tenshukaku’s observation tower had gone dark. The entire fortress seemed unlit, darkened as if by an enormous stormcloud’s shadow, but when Sara looked up into the sky her eyes widened to find a cloudless expanse of purest blue that stretched into every direction.

That had scared her more than anything.

Where had the storms gone?

Will you lead them?

A voice that she recognized after a moment as her own seeped into her consciousness. She nearly flinched at the sound of it. 

“Lead them where?”

To battle. To victory. 

“To what end?”

That’s a pointless question, don’t you think? When you’re doing all of this for her. For her ideals. For her alone.

“No,” Sara forced out a wary reply, “it’s not like that anymore. Things are different now.”

You say that, but I’m still here, and you’re still listening to me.

Sara grit her teeth and tried to will the voice away, but her heart sank to realize the truth of it. The voice she heard was her own, and there seemed to be no escape from it.

She looked out onto the empty faces, and wondered if anyone in that crowd would be able to help her. Then, she wondered why she had thought to ask for help at all. 

If you think this is your story, you’re sorely mistaken. It has always been her story. It always will be. You may play an integral part, but it’s a part all the same. 

The role of General.

“Stop,” she breathed harshly.

The role of Companion.

“Stop it,” she hissed as she willed her eyes closed.

The role of--

And before her own wretched voice could say another word, she ripped her consciousness so violently away that she woke herself up from her own dream.

She bolted upright in the cot, ignoring the searing pain at her shoulder as she pushed herself to standing. She wobbled slightly on her feet in the empty room, and as she passed through the doorway she raised one hand to hold the door’s frame, to steady herself and her own fracturing thoughts.

“Ei?” She whispered tentatively out into the darkness of the vessel’s maze-like interior. 

She waited for a response.

She wondered then how long she had been sleeping. She thought of going back to the room, to check if Ei’s traveling pack had been missing, but as she held still in the silence she heard a faint, muffled sound down the hall.

She followed the sound, and as she came nearer she could hear it more clearly. Small and quiet breaths; a stifled sobbing. 

“Ei?” She breathed as she turned the corner and stood in the doorway of the room from whence the sound had come.

Ei was there, sitting alone on a sunken cot. She glanced quickly in Sara’s direction, and one hand rose, pushing the tears resting at her eyes away with her knuckles. In her other hand, she clutched a tattered piece of parchment.

Sara entered the room without asking permission, hurrying to Ei’s side with a look of concern. Her thin brows raised, and Ei looked up at her with a fleeting smile. 

“Are you alright?” Sara asked as sat on the cot beside her.

“Yes,” Ei breathed simply.

“I… didn’t know where you were,” Sara murmured, face burning as she felt suddenly needy and foolish, even as Ei sat teary-eyed before her.

“I’m sorry,” Ei began, eyes softening, “I hadn’t meant to stay away overlong.”

Her voice trailed off, and Sara’s golden eyes focused on the parchment she gripped in her delicate hand.

“Did you... find something?” Sara asked hesitantly as she made to rest both of her hands on her own knees, taking a warrior’s stance to help her weather all these emotions, which seemed to be cascading over her senses in short succession. 

“Yes,” Ei breathed, voice lowering as she glanced down at the parchment in her hand. She turned and unfolded it, so that the handwritten script on one side became more visible. 

“A letter?” Sara breathed as her eyes widened.

“Written in Sasayuri’s hand,” Ei added quietly.

Sara’s chest stilled as the realization washed over her.

“Is this… their ship?”

Ei nodded simply.

“I thought it might be,” Ei murmured, and her eyes rose to look around the cabin; Sasayuri’s quarters. A modest room, with little decoration. A desk. A bed. A map of Inazuma on one wall. Nothing more than was necessary. 

“We didn’t have to come onto the ship,” Sara began in a worried, apologetic voice, “we could have stayed outside.”

“As I view the moon,
Many things come into my mind,
And my thoughts are sad;
Yet it's not for me alone,
That the autumn time has come.”

Sara watched as Ei spoke the poem, and recognized it as another one from the uta-garuta cards. As Ei formed the words with a quiet strength, it felt much and more like some sacred incantation, and Sara’s mind felt at ease to hear Ei’s voice, running along her senses like a water’s stream flows along a rocky riverbed. 

“I’m not afraid of the past,” Ei murmured after she had finished the poem, as a tearful smile crossed her features. Her hand rose to rest on one of Sara’s own. “Not anymore.”

Sara glanced momentarily at her hand, and then her eyes rose to meet hers. Ei was smiling, but tearfully so, and her lavender eyes were alight with a bittersweet acceptance. 

Sara glanced back down at the letter in Ei’s hand.

“Would you like to read it?”

“I…” Sara breathed, and then she closed her eyes for a moment, and nearly smiled to realize how badly she wanted to read it. 

“Yes,” she confided quietly. “but only if you’ll allow it.”

Ei handed the letter over to her, and watched Sara’s eyes as she began to silently read the words written in that flowing, faded script.

Ei,

The fleet is anchored at Seirai’s northwestern bounds. Tomorrow, just before sunrise, we will flank the rebellion on the northern and western sides. We outnumber them greatly, and should find victory before nightfall. 

Preparations have gone to plan, although enemy movements on the island have been unusually quiet. Our priestess warns of a deepening power at the core of Amakumo Peak, and a weakening of the wards set around it.

But I do not write this message merely to recount our battle plans. 

I write for the pleasure of writing to you. 

Being on Seirai Island brings back a wave of memories. It seems like only yesterday that you sealed the Thunderbird on this very isle. I can still see your glorious victory. I can still hear the Thunderbird’s cry. The song of its defeat playing out for all of Inazuma. Your song. A song I have been given the honor of listening to and amplifying for all eternity.

Everything I have done has been for you. I know you know this. I want to write it out all the same. 

I hope you are well. I hope your expedition to Yashiori Island will be a success. I hope that when all of this is over, we can sit again beneath the cherry blossom tree and play cards beneath the moonlight.

I hope you feel the same. 

Maybe one day I will ask you directly.

Until then - be well,
Sasayuri

Sara stared at the parchment, and Sasayuri’s flowery signature. She thought of Ei, sitting here alone as she read Sasayuri’s words. Then, she thought of Sasayuri sitting at the desk in this very room, writing it, so many years ago. 

This letter had surely been their last; written just before the tragedy that befell Seirai. The Thunderbird’s release. The battle that followed. The resulting destruction that was left in its wake. 

Ei’s hand was still resting atop hers. Sara turned her own hand over, and grasped Ei’s fingers gently. 

“I’m sorry,” Sara struggled to console as emotion surged within her.

“I think I was meant to find this letter,” Ei murmured.

“Really?” Sara breathed in wonder.

“It is a fitting reminder,” Ei replied.

“A reminder?” Sara echoed, eyes widening fractionally as she glanced at Ei.

“Our enemy,” Ei’s voice darkened, sharpening like the edge of a blade as her lavender eyes went alight, “on this journey, has always been the Thunderbird, hasn’t it?”

Sara analyzed Ei’s expression. She was still tearful; still smiling, but her eyes had narrowed with that subtle indication of aggressive resolve that Sara was so familiar with. On her own features, and the Shogun’s.

“Our purpose has crystallized and clarified, there within the strokes of Sasayuri’s quill,” Ei murmured, “and I cannot, will not, allow another tragedy.”

Ei’s fingers moved, and her grasp of Sara’s hand tightened momentarily. Sara sucked in a breath at Ei’s powerful hold as her heart began to race in her chest. Ei’s word were so strikingly powerful. 

“The Thunderbird’s destruction is paramount,” Ei stated pointedly. 

Then, Ei turned to look at Sara directly, and Sara felt overwhelmed by the intensity of her eyes, and froze in an awestruck silence as Ei’s determination rose and seemed to ring in Sara’s own heart.

“Will you help me, Sara?”

Sara’s heart was racing. The thrill of this, of being given purpose, was so familiar. She wanted so dearly to be needed. 

But another part of her questioned her own reckless abandon, and Ei’s sudden need for vengeance. That had never been their reason for being here. They had come here to discover the meaning of their dreams. 

Had it always meant to lead to battle and bloodshed? 

But either way, Sara reminded herself, they would be together. 

Wasn’t that what mattered, most of all?

Then, she was reminded of her recent dream. The taunting accusations she had heard within her own head, in her own voice. 

She pushed it all away.

“Of course I will,” Sara breathed in agreement as she squeezed Ei’s hand, and when Ei smiled back at her she couldn’t help but return it. 

Chapter Text

Sara’s wound healed quickly, thanks in part to the tengu blood flowing through her veins. After that, they made preparations to continue their journey.

The torrential rain died down as they left the ship and made their way along the beach, towards a large, rising hill off in the distance. 

“We should rest and eat before the next leg of our journey,” Ei began as she set her pack down and walked towards the crashing waves.

She paused at the shoreline just before the rising tide, and rose one arm out before her, her fingers outstretched toward the churning waters. 

Her hand formed a tight and sudden fist.

The hairs on the back of Sara’s neck prickled as she felt the electrical charge of a lighting’s strike, and she watched breathlessly as the water lit up from below and the bolt crashed down into the sea, refracting in harsh angles beneath the surface. 

A pair of fish floated lifelessly to the surface, and the waves pushed their bodies ashore.

Sara found Ei’s power to be so elegantly beautiful, even during something so trivially mundane as hunting for their next meal. Ei seemed to have an almost playful quality to the way she commanded electro during their journey, but in battle, there was an undeniably vicious ferocity to her strikes. The juxtaposition of the two had caught Sara’s heart like the curve of a hook, deep and raw and unshakeable.

Sara thought then of the battle that they would soon face against the Thunderbird, and a chill wind pushed its way into her bones and made her shiver. 

Destroying the Thunderbird sounded like the right thing to do; and the only thing they could do. Ei had proposed the plan, and Sara had agreed. The two of them, together, had the strength of an entire army. There was certainly nothing that could stand in their way. Not even an ancient being of concentrated rage and regret.

Why, then, did Sara feel so deeply uneasy and internally conflicted?

Why didn’t it feel right?

She bit at her lip as she tried to focus on the moment and pull herself out of her own head.

Ei kneeled in the sand before the fire Sara had been working to build. She watched as Ei broke down the fish, working her slender blade between skin and muscle with a deft precision. 

Everything Ei did with a blade seemed so effortlessly confident.

But after she was done, she smiled apologetically and handed the fillets to Sara.

“I think it best for you to grill them,” she murmured as a light blush crossed her features.

Sara thought back to Ei’s nearly blackened Amakumo fruit.

“I’m surprised to find there’s something you can’t do,” Sara teased. 

“I can do it,” Ei countered willfully, “but the results are… less than satisfactory.”

Sara’s smile grew as Ei’s expression soured comedically. 

“Was there never a chance to learn and improve?” Sara asked curiously as she stuck the fillets onto a pair of wooden skewers.

“As Makoto’s kagemusha, and then as Inazuma’s acting archon… the opportunity never presented itself,” Ei responded easily as her mind wandered along her own past. 

“I opted for the dojo, or the forge. The heat of battle, instead of the stove,” she finished with a smile.

Sara laughed lightly as she thought on Ei’s words. The two of them watched as the fish crackled and glistened above the open flames.

The stormy sky was deepening into what was considered night on Seirai. Sara found herself missing the sunset and the stars as her mind wandered. 

Cooking for herself had been a requirement in the wilds of Inazuma, but especially as the prestigious ward of the Kujou Clan. Her dedication to rising beyond expectations required her to keep a strict schedule, and that had meant eating alone.

She had always cooked when the kitchens were empty, and eaten alone in her quarters. And despite having learned a great deal within the sphere of culinary arts on her travels, she had always chosen to prepare the most modest of meals. 

Her brows raised as an idea came to her.

“Can you look in my bag for a packet of spices?” She asked Ei, who obliged, reaching her hands into Sara’s bag until she pulled out the Shogunate’s special blend of cooking spice. Every soldier was given traveling cookware and materials upon conscription; Sara had never used them.

Sara sprinkled the mixture of salt, pepper and dried snapdragon onto the fish.

“That smells lovely,” Ei breathed as her chest rose to take in a deep breath of the smoky scent. 

Sara glanced at Ei, across the fire. She was watching with such intensity, and an almost analytical expression as she took in every one of Sara’s movements. 

“I could teach you how to prepare a meal like this, someday,” Sara offered hesitantly, “if you’d like.”

She handed the finished skewer to Ei. Perfectly grilled; the spices had cooked right into the firm, gently-blackened flesh. Ei took an enormous bite, and swallowed sweetly. 

“I’d give anything to learn how to make something as good as this,” Ei murmured before taking another mouthful.

Sara’s heart expanded to watch Ei feasting so happily on something she had made with her own hands. She began to sort through her catalogue of recipes, and wondered what she might show Ei how to make first. 

“I’m looking forward to it,” Sara murmured, as she took a bite of her fish. The spice had surprised her at first, but she enjoyed the invigorating taste of it, and wondered at how silly she had been, all those years before, to never consider trying it ‘til now.

And for a moment, she considered their mission as simply another obstacle to push past. If annihilating the Thunderbird meant she could be with Ei like this, she had a sudden urge to see it through. The sooner, the better. 

Even if she felt a desperate need to find an alternate path. A path bereft of battle, and danger, and death. 

She wondered, as she slowly chewed her meal, if her Kairagi opponent had been right to accuse her of going soft. Each day that passed had made the mantle of General seem further and further away. 

But in order to see their duty through to the end, she would need to pull that title back, and wear it as assuredly as she had ever done before. 

Ei seemed as composed as Sara wished she could feel, and began to pack away their things after finishing her meal. 

“We’re close now,” she murmured solemnly, “and may launch an attack more successfully by nightfall, if we keep moving.”

Sara rose to her full height, and nodded down at Ei, who was looking not at her but at the hilly path that led to a sheer cliff’s edge off in the distance. The great, everlasting storm was centered high above them, spinning and turning in flashes of bright violent purples, swollen with rumbling masses of clouds.

“I’m ready,” Sara assured.

But her heart betrayed her words, and as they began their ascent and she watched Ei striding forward before her, she wanted nothing more than to grab her by the wrist and take her far and away.

Chapter Text

As if the storms all around them could sense their arrival, the wind picked up and cold shards of rain began to fall sidelong from the darkening sky. 

The pair ascended the hill, where purple grass blew chaotically around their ankles. As they neared the edge, Sara could start to make out what looked like some kind of empty doorway floating in the sky.

She squinted her eyes to see more clearly, and realized that what she had thought was a doorway looked more like a floating portal consisting of two silver columns with intricate purple details running along the edges. The portal’s threshold glowed an eerie, electric blue.

Ei stopped, and turned. She was smiling apologetically.

“This will undoubtedly be both the quickest and most unnerving part of our journey,” she began, raising her voice above the howling of the wind.

Sara glanced from Ei to the portal. 

“We’re... meant to walk through it?” Sara called back hesitantly. 

“That’s right,” Ei confirmed, “this Phase Gate is connected to another, high above Amakumo Peak.”

“All this time I was thinking we would need to climb the mountain,” Sara tried to joke as her eyes focused on the portal, “but somehow this feels even more dangerous.”

Ei reached out to place her hand on Sara’s shoulder. Sara found herself wanting to step into her touch, but she held back. 

“It’s hardly dangerous,” Ei’s voice soothed, “but the way in which we travel between the portals may be alarming, at first. Our physical forms will phase into electro energy, while the traveling takes place.”

Sara nodded slowly, and lowered her head, setting her jaw just as Ei’s hand slowly dropped from her shoulder. 

“I’ll go first." 

Ei’s eyebrows raised.

“How brave you are,” Ei commended adoringly. 

I’m not sure whether it’s bravery or stupidity. Sara’s internal monologue played out in her head as she stepped forward. She looked at the distance between the edge and the portal, and swallowed thickly as she realized she would need to jump across the gap.

“I’ll be right behind you,” Ei’s powerful voice traveled across the wind. Sara could feel Ei’s eyes upon her. She narrowed her own eyes and tensed the muscles in her calves.

Then, with the focus only a seasoned warrior could muster, she bounded forward and propelled herself towards the portal’s shimmering blue surface. She fell through it, and was just about to call out as she felt the weight of gravity pulling her down, but in the next instant a surge of electro energy exploded all around her, and within her.

It felt almost as if her body had grown smaller and more compact; vibrating with a massive current of bright purple sparks. She felt lighter, and faster, and the pull of the portal sent her up into the air. She could feel the ground beneath her getting further and further away, until the rocks at the edge of the beaches below had turned to blurry, grey dots. 

Then, just when she had begun to wonder if something was wrong, and if possibly she would be trapped in this phased state forever, she fell heavily onto solid ground, in her body once more.

She choked out a breath as the wind was knocked from her lungs, and the rocky surface beneath her was harsh against her hands and knees. But at least she was herself again. She looked back behind her with just enough time to see Ei, phasing back into her own form, and stepping lightly and easily onto the ground, standing beside where Sara had fallen.

Sara hastily pushed herself up to standing and dusted off her garments. 

“The first time is always like that,” Ei teased beside her. 

“Even for you?” Sara asked, imagining a world where the Electro Archon fell flat on her face after using a phase gate. 

“Even for me,” Ei echoed playfully, “and Sasayuri had never let me hear the end of it, after that.”

She had added the last part with the beginnings of mirth, but as she said the name and remembered why they had come here, her voice darkened and became subdued, and in the silence that the pair of them shared there draped a sudden and undeniable weight of responsibility, and purpose. 

“We’re finally here,” Ei murmured meaningfully.

They were standing on a small floating piece of rock, high above Seirai’s fractured islands and set in the eye of the gathering storm. It was quiet and calm, within the storm’s eye, with only the distant, thundering cracks of lightning to split the silence.

“The Thunderbird’s manifestation resides there,” Ei’s hand lifted and she extended one finger to point down below, towards a large circular platform that floated within the air.

Sara could feel the adrenaline of the coming battle beginning to flood into her bloodstream, and spark at the tips of her fingers. She pulled in a deep breath of cold air. 

“So this is it,” Sara breathed.

This had been the reason they had come all this way. Everything had led up to this one moment. This final battle. 

“Be light on your feet, and stay away from the plumes. If you sense a growing amount of electro energy, make sure to keep your distance,” Ei began in a strategic, tactical tone.

“The beast itself is weak to physical forms of attack,” Ei murmured, eyes narrowing, “which we may use to our advantage.”

Sara nodded silently as she listened, while simultaneously forcing a sudden surge of unexplainable dread aside.

Ei took a step towards the ledge. Engulfing Lightning shimmered into existence within her empty hand. 

“Are you ready, Sara?”

“Yes,” Sara forced out her reply as she pulled out her bow.

Ei let herself fall forward, off the ledge and down towards the platform hundreds of meters below. Sara followed, free-falling momentarily as she followed Ei’s lead. Wind whipped her hair and her outfit up behind her as she plummeted downwards.

Then, she watched as Ei pulled out her glider and the wind buffeted her ascent. Sara’s four wings exploded behind her, and in unison they flapped against the air until she was gliding along at Ei’s side.

When her feet hit the platform, Sara folded her wings back up and waited, listening.

Ei tilted her chin up, jaw determinedly set as she took in a commanding breath. She was in her element, and Sara couldn’t deny how beautiful she looked when she fully stepped into the title of Inazuma’s archon. 

Lightning arced all around them as the storm clouds shifted and turned in one great circle that centered around the large, rocky platform. 

Then, above the thunder, they could hear a bird’s shattering cry. Sara hastily drew an arrow and pulled it taut against her bowstring, aiming this way and that, as the sound of the bird’s roar rippled all around them.

“And so,” a dark, threatening voice in a low register vibrated above them, “you’ve come at last.”

The Thunderbird's manifestation landed at the opposite end of the platform heavily, sending vibrations through Sara’s core. She watched as it stretched its massive wingspan, and craned its enormous neck, sharp beak turning to the side. One red eye pinned upon her.

“Indeed. We’ve come for your head,” Ei growled.

“Ah,” the Thunderbird trained it’s red eye upon Ei, subtly narrowing, “my former opponent, lightless shadow, lost to the fear of time’s ever forward march.”

Sara watched as Ei’s eyes darkened, and the archon grit her teeth almost hard enough to draw blood from her own tongue. Her knuckles whitened upon Engulfing Lightning’s shaft.

“You have no right to speak so freely,” Ei spat as she took a step forward, “beast.”

“I have no reason to speak to you at all,” the Thunderbird made a crackling reply, “as it is not battle with you that I require.”

Ei froze, eyes widening as her lips parted.

“Tengu general,” the bird’s voice rose to a combative roar, “it is you who I challenge! And now, after all these years, we will finish what we started.”

“No!” Ei called back, “She’s not--”

“I accept.”

Sara’s voice echoed in the crackling air around them.

There was a stillness; a tension. Sara drew in a shaking breath.

“What?” Ei asked falteringly, turning to look at Sara.

Sara’s eyes were in shadow. 

“Allow me take care of this,” Sara pleaded, raising her golden eyes to meet Ei’s startled gaze. 

For you.

Words unspoken, but there all the time. Words that had been there all those years, unsaid and yet undeniable. This was, after all, Sara’s responsibility. Her visions had brought them here. And she felt then that she was, before anything else, the Raiden Shogun’s general and champion. 

This was who she was; who she had to be.

Ei’s lavender eyes closed for a moment. Sara watched, waiting for her to give the word, as she always had before a duel. Sara’s heart began to race as the weight of the situation descended upon her.

Then, Ei opened her eyes and nodded once. She walked towards the edge of the platform, but as she passed Sara she took her hand and held it, and leaned close to whisper to her.

“Be careful,” she murmured. 

The Raiden Shogun had never bid Sara to use caution, and hearing it now from Ei made chills run up Sara’s spine. 

She nodded.

“Don’t worry,” Sara replied confidently, and then, she turned back to the Thunderbird.

“You’ll face me alone,” Sara called out across the distance, “and the loser will receive the Almighty Shogun’s divine punishment.”

“Acceptable terms,” the Thunderbird bellowed as it rose, flapping its wings and sending dust and pieces of rock flying back, “now prepare yourself.”

Then, the battle began.

The Thunderbird released an ear-splitting shriek as plumes fell from the sky and onto the platform. They began to glow alarmingly purple, and Sara remembered what Ei had said and teleported away from the cluster of them as they pulsed with light.

Sara glanced back at Ei, who stood with her arms crossed before her chest at the edge of the platform, watching. Seeing her like that gave Sara a surge of resolve.

She jumped away from a bolt of lightning, and let loose an arrow, eyes narrowing with vicious delight as it sank into the tender part of the Thunderbird’s wing.

“Tch. You’re faster than I remember,” the Thunderbird rasped as it flew to one edge of the arena. 

“That’s because I’m not the tengu general you remember,” Sara replied gravely. 

“Does your master feel the same?” The Thunderbird countered aggressively.

It took a moment for Sara to catch the meaning of that question. Her hesitation allowed her opponent to press on, flying low to the ground, diving towards Sara at incredible speed. She only had enough time for her wings to shoot out and carry her upward and out of harm’s way.

She pulled another arrow as she floated midair, but just as she narrowed one eye to aim it she heard the deafening sound of electro-aspected energy crackling on either side of her. She glanced to one side and everything tinged in bright violet. She glanced in the other direction and saw the same coloration.

Sara realized with a gasp that the colorized tint she saw was actually a wall of electro energy. Two walls; closing in on either side of her. 

“You won’t escape this!” The Thunderbird roared as it curled it’s body up and sent itself flying towards her, extending knifelike wings as it spun wildly in the air.

With attacks from all sides, the best Sara could do was fly further upwards, and she released a shuddering sigh as the Thunderbird’s body sliced past her from below. But she hadn’t flown high enough, and the sound of the electrified walls rang out in her ears as they closed in on either side.

She cried out, eyes slamming shut as the walls hit and passed through her and she felt the electricity burning through her. She choked out a pained sound as she dropped out of the air.

“Hah!” the Thunderbird bellowed. She tried to open her eyes, but she couldn’t. All she could hear was the sound of the Thunderbird’s wings, and the feeling of air being displaced beneath her.

“Sara!”

Somewhere in the distance, far, far away, she felt like she could hear Ei’s voice. 

Then, she could smell the sweet scent of Amakumo fruit, and flowers, and a spring storm. 

She thought of how beautiful it was, to feel the cool air of a spring storm. 

“This ends now.”

Ei’s voice. Powerful, but shaking. Sara vaguely wondered why Ei sounded so concerned.

Blinding light pressed against her eyelids. She heard the sound of the Plane. The Plane of Euthymia. The stillness of complete annihilation. 

“You dare to break our agreement?” The Thunderbird hissed.

“Your battle is meaningless. You already destroyed them. Now, you’ll pay the price.”

Sara forced her eyes open. 

Ei was standing before her, her two hands holding the Musou Isshin. The blade glowed with a blinding, otherworldly light.

Sara watched as the Thunderbird rose high into the air above them. She could feel Ei readying the Musou no Hitotachi. 

Then, in the distance, at the far edge of the platform, Sara saw something she hadn’t seen before.

The boy from her dreams.

His ghostly form shimmered in the air.

Sara’s eyes widened. 

The Thunderbird hadn’t summoned her here.

It had always been the will of the boy, who now stood with his hands covering his mouth and his eyes wide with fear. 

At first, Sara thought he feared the Thunderbird. But then she followed his gaze.

He was looking with fear… at Ei.

It suddenly became impossible to deny how wrong this all felt, and it was only as she saw the Thunderbird falling towards Ei’s waiting blade that Sara felt compelled to act.

“Wait!” Sara cried.

She pushed past the pain and pushed herself up, catapulting herself forward and grabbing Ei by the waist, tackling her and pushing her out of the way. Ei gasped and the Musou Isshin dematerialized as she fell forward and Sara landed atop her.

Their momentum brought them far enough away from the Thunderbird’s range, but the enormous creature couldn’t stop itself from smashing into the platform. 

The platform was shattered to pieces. The pair began a free-fall towards to the island below.

Sara’s eyes fell closed, and she felt the wind rushing past her as she fell. Then, faintly, she could feel hands on her shoulders. And just before she blacked out, she could feel herself being held in Ei's arms.

Chapter Text

All natural things have a reason for being. 

Sara was no different.

As she fell, and felt Ei’s embrace, Sara’s mind wandered backward across the landscape of her life, and she thought about the markers that lined the path of her past.

As the Kujou Clan’s ward, she strove for unrivaled perfection. A steady, single road that led towards an expected point on the horizon. The only casualty had been her own sense of self, pushed down tightly into the space between her lungs. 

As the Shogun’s General, she was duty personified. A field of beautiful red laid out across the years; a field of Dendobrium flowers, swaying in the idle wind. Each one, grown from bloodied soil. Each one a reminder of a life, or a dream, or a vision; lost.

But now, a new marker had been unceremoniously pressed into the soft earth before her. A marker she hadn’t ever conceived before, and could only now see as a dream made real.

As Ei’s… companion. 

Or was it... friend? 

Sara had a tenuous grasp on the meaning of that word, but this felt like something… more. Something different. Something that echoed to ringing within the heart of her; resoundingly brilliant. Deeper than words; stronger than song.

Even if she didn’t understand it completely, she had resolved to follow this new path. Not out of duty or obligation, but merely to see what the next precious moment might afford her.

She wanted to know what would happen next.

She wanted to make that next moment happen.

She opened her eyes.

Her pack had fallen onto the smooth surface where she lay. The contents had spilled from the opened flap and her map had unfurled before her. 

Her vision was slightly blurred, and she tried to focus on a point of red, there upon the ground. As her eyes came accustomed to the low light, and her eyesight strengthened, the brilliant red blur came into focus. 

The dried Dendobrium flower, that she had picked and then placed in the folds of her map at the start of her journey, had fallen there before her.

She took in a faltering breath.

Something shifted beneath her. Hands, that had been holding her steady, moved along her shoulders. Gentle fingers pushed her hair from her eyes.

“Are you alright?”

Sara’s eyes followed the sound of the voice; Ei’s voice. Her face was there above her. Sara’s head was resting on her shoulder, just above her chest. 

“I think so,” Sara murmured. Her voice scratched her throat as she released the words. 

“Drink,” Ei commanded gently, as she placed a canteen to Sara’s cracked lips, and slowly tilted it so that the cool, clean water trickled onto her tongue. 

Sara’s eyes fluttered closed as she swallowed, and she opened them again when she heard the small metallic clink of the canteen touch the ground.

“Where are we?” Sara asked then, as she tried to take in her surroundings. Only a few candles that Ei had set around them offered light, and it was too low to see a great distance. Her hearing, on the other hand, picked up on faint sounds, echoing and distant, and it was only then that she realized they must be at the bottom of an enormous cavern.

“Somewhere safe,” Ei murmured. 

“The Thunderbird--” Sara choked out, as everything that had happened came crashing back to the forefront. The duel. The boy.

“Still lives,” Ei offered, finishing Sara’s startled sentence gently. 

Sara thought of what she had done. Nearly losing the duel, and then tackling Ei to the ground before she could strike the killing blow. Her face grew hot and her eyes narrowed.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled as unwanted tears began to threaten her eyes.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Ei replied quietly. She had begun to stroke Sara’s hair, delicate fingers sliding between strands of indigo-black. 

“But I ruined the chance of destroying your foe,” Sara began weakly.

“My foe,” Ei added quietly as her eyes hardened, “not yours; not ours.”

Sara looked up at her, eyes wide and searching.

“I’ve made the mistake of indifference,” Ei continued quietly, as her lavender eyes closed. “I’ve forgotten to listen to those I hold dear.”

Sara swallowed thickly. 

“I’m sorry,” Sara began, “but, I don’t understand.”

Ei smiled apologetically, eyes still closed, as her brows raised with sorrow. 

“I realize now that your desire had never been to destroy the Thunderbird,” Ei nearly whispered. 

Sara’s heart throbbed in her chest. 

“But the Thunderbird has taken countless souls. It even took Sasayuri away from you. It’s destruction was deserved,” Sara murmured, trying to speak the voice of reason; the voice of the Raiden Shogun’s general.

Ei opened her eyes slowly, and looked down upon Sara. 

“And yet, you felt in your heart that there had to be another way.”

Sara stared up at her, and slowly, she nodded in confirmation. 

“I was absorbed by my own will,” Ei continued sadly, “and so I did not hear you. And for that, I apologize.”

“I don’t think you should always be expected to listen to another’s heart,” Sara replied quietly.

Ei smiled and ran her hands through Sara’s hair.

“When you told me your plans to leave Inazuma, and go to Seirai Island, my initial thought was to bar your passage and prevent you from leaving.”

Sara stared up at her, lips parting as Ei spoke her truth.

“I had thought, selfishly, that I could keep you safe by keeping you close.”

Her hand reached down and her knuckles brushed across Sara’s cheek, tickling the small hairs at her face.

“But if I’ve learned anything, it’s that I have to believe.”

Sara’s heart was racing as she echoed Ei’s words.

“Believe?”

“In your ambition, Sara. Your dreams,” she held Sara’s cheek in a gentle embrace, the softness of her fingers resting on Sara’s cheekbone, and brushing up against her ear.

“In you.”

Sara sucked in a shuddering breath. 

Ei’s words, and her expression, and the way she held Sara’s face in her hand… all of it seemed to amplify within Sara’s heart. A sudden, undeniable feeling rose up from within, and all at once she knew that it would be impossible for her to push it aside. 

Maybe the Kujou Clan’s Ward could have ignored it. Maybe the Shogun’s General could have denied it. 

But as Sara; the feeling remained.

She saw again the way Ei’s eyes softened, narrowing with affection as her lips parted and she leaned ever downward, and suddenly it was too much and all Sara could do was react.

Sara reached up and slid her fingers through the dark strands of Ei’s hair, fingers gently cradling the back of her neck, and gently, beseechingly, Sara pulled Ei’s lips down to her own. 

Ei leaned into the kiss, and the arm around Sara’s back where she had been supporting her flexed as she pulled her ever closer. 

A tear fell freely from the corner of Sara’s eye as Ei deepened the kiss, tenderness and passion mixing together with the sweetness of her lips. 

When Ei pulled away, she was smiling.

Sara tried to catch her breath. Her heart was thundering in her chest, and she imagined it would be impossible for Ei not to feel it with how close they rested against each other. 

“I hear your dreams clearly,” Ei whispered then, “and they resonate, within me.”

Sara stared up at her. She could feel the cool air on the wetness at her cheek, though she was no longer crying, she felt just as emotional as she spoke.

“I hadn’t realized I wanted this so badly,” Sara murmured, “or that you had felt the same.”

“Feelings have a way of escaping that which tries to hold them still,” Ei whispered sweetly, “I know this from experience.”

Sara released a comfortable sigh as she relaxed within Ei’s arms, and allowed herself, finally, to feel.

In the quiet of the dark, expansive cavern, with the sound of a distant trickling drop of water, or the shifting of great boulders, or the muffled sound of the storm above, Sara and Ei held each other.

Then, Sara’s eyes began to wander, and she looked upon the dried petals of the Denodrium flower.

Ei tilted her head to one side, and followed Sara’s gaze. Her tranquil eyes rested on the red flower, papery thin and nearly crushed, but still as vibrantly red as ever.

“Lyrcoris,” Ei breathed. “I’ve never seen one so well preserved.”

“I picked it,” Sara began, faltering, “uhm, I picked it after the Vision Hunt Decree ended. It is fairly fresh, and has kept its color.”

“I sometimes feel sorry for this flower,” Ei began, “and the reputation that follows it.”

“The flower of the dead is certainly not the gentlest of titles,” Sara murmured appraisingly.

“It was never called that, before,” Ei replied sadly, “though I suppose I am partly to blame for the reason.”

Sara tilted her head to one side, and reached down to take Ei’s free hand in her own.

“What did you call it, before?”

“Red Guardian,” Ei smiled sadly, as she looked from the flower and into Sara’s eyes. “Farmers used to plant them, to keep pests at bay.”

Sara blushed at Ei’s intent gaze, and squeezed her hand for comfort.

“It was only when the war began, and the gravestones piled up, that they began to use the flower to protect the graves. After that, it’s original use was lost to time.”

Ei’s words shook Sara to her very core, and she found her eyes watering at the gentle sorrow tinging Ei’s voice, and the sweetness of her eyes mixed with the sad reality of what she had spoken.

“I have always found them beautiful,” Sara began bravely, “despite their grim significance.”

Ei’s eyebrows raised fractionally as she listened to Sara’s consoling words.

“It is said that this flower can never be considered complete," Sara continued, "with how it’s leaves only turn up after the blossoms have withered.”

Sara reached down to take the Dendobrium blossom into one hand, holding it there within her palm. She took in a deep breath, invorgarted by the warmth in Ei’s expression as she listened.

“I had thought, very recently, that I shared a similar fate as the Dendobrium,” Sara’s voice lowered to a whisper as she gave Ei a meaningful glance, and her fingers closed around the red petals just before Ei's hand joined her own.

“But now, I feel differently.”

Ei’s throat worked as she swallowed, and stared down into Sara’s golden eyes.

“Now,” Sara continued, “I feel whole.”

And then, it was Ei who was unable to wait a single moment longer, as she leaned down to give herself to Sara’s wanting lips.

Chapter Text

...If I had been stronger, would things have turned out differently? 

Could I have stopped the meaningless ritual that deafened your song?

I had only myself, and now I have only myself to blame.

I can still remember that fateful day. The thought of what they did to you still haunts me even in my altered form, and your song echoes, bitterly distorted, in the depths of my wicked heart. 

After I lost you, I raged. It was only a matter of time before Inazuma’s Archon felt my presence, and sealed my power beneath Amakumo Peak. 

And there, for hundreds of years, I seethed beneath the waves of my own misery. 

Until one day, the seal was lifted. 

I was free! But as I rose, and saw Seirai below me, and Tsurumi from a distance, and all the humans waging war amongst each other, I realized that nothing at all had changed. You were still gone, and all the hatred and agony remained within me. 

I wanted all of it to disappear.

The tengu general stepped in my way. A battle to end all battles, between the Archon’s most respected warrior, and myself. At the end of it, I thought that death might come for me, and in that moment I welcomed it. 

Finally, I would be released from my own insurmountable grief.

But my will for vengeance overpowered my need for freedom. I rose, and meant to finish what I had started. It was only then that I realized that the tengu general had meant to distract me, and that their warriors had sealed me upon the newly broken peaks of Seirai.

I felt the tengu general’s life slip away. Some time later, I felt the Archon’s power shift, and I felt her true self step into a dimension of her own creation. 

Years passed, unchanging. I remained as I always had been, unchanging; lost within the maze of my own anger. Every passing moment, I thought of you. 

Millions of these moments have passed, and still, I think of you. 

I try to remember your song, but the melody has been lost beneath the thundering of my own broken heart. 

Soon, I fear I may lose the memory of you completely. 

The pair stood side by side on the rocky platform, looking down once again upon the Thunderbird’s arena from high above. 

Ei took Sara’s hand within her own. 

Sara glanced at her, and gave her fingers a reassuring squeeze. Ei’s eyes softened.

As they stood there, Sara felt less and less like the Shogun’s general. That worn out mantle falling heavily from her shoulders, and making her feel lighter than air. 

And Ei, who had never felt more like herself than she had in these past few days, breathed in deeply and felt the stormy air fill her lungs. She sighed with relief and realized that Sara was looking at her, not with the reverent devotion she had saved for the Almighty Shogun, but with a warmth that was completely and wholly for Ei.

“I had been nervous, standing here, the last time,” Sara began as she looked down at the barren platform of purple rock.

“And now?” Ei queried gently.

“Now,” Sara murmured, “I feel the relaxation that focus can bring, knowing that we have a way forward.”

She paused, and then her golden eyes softened.

“Together.”

“Together,” Ei echoed brilliantly, and then she turned and opened her arms so that Sara could step into her embrace. She pressed her cheek against Sara’s shoulder and closed her eyes. 

Obligation and expectation seemed to melt away, to be replaced with something more… honest; a shared understanding. A freedom to truly choose, and move forward. Not as Archon and General. Only as themselves.

Together.

The word echoed beautifully in each of their own hearts, and the meaning and opportunity that word held extended out past the infinite. 

The fleeting, fragile chance of a choice…

Sara’s mind wandered, and she thought again of the boy. He had given her this chance, by calling out to her. She wondered who she would have remained, if he hadn’t summoned her here. She wondered if she would have ever had the chance to change.

She wrapped her arms more tightly around the small of Ei’s back, and breathed in the smell of her hair, languishing in her warmth as the storm thundered wildly around them.

There was only one thing left to do, and she was not afraid to do it.

“I’m ready,” Sara murmured in Ei’s ear. 

Ei pulled gently back, giving her a tender kiss at the side of her lips before pulling away.

“As am I.”

When the Thunderbird’s manifestation descended once again upon the floating platform’s battlefield, it saw only the tengu general standing there at the center.

The reddeneed slits of its eyes narrowed with vicious delight as the bird landed heavily, and sent dust and debris flying away from it.

“And so, the servant returns, alone,” the Thunderbird’s electric voice crackled, low and harsh, against the wind of the storm.

“Here to finally finish what we’ve started?” The bird thundered as it raised itself to its full height, and electro-aspected energy scintillated across sharp, spiky feathers.

Sara’s stoic face remained unperturbed by the Thunderbird’s taunt. Her chin lifted, and she stood quite still. 

Slowly, she lifted her empty arms, palms up, to her sides.

“I will not fight you,” Sara countered, as her golden eyes narrowed. 

“Nonsense!” the bird retorted shrilly, “Is that not your purpose?”

Sara refused to reply, arms still stretched out to her sides, bow snug against her back and sword resting in the sheathe at her hip. 

The Thunderbird’s anger exploded, and a shriek tore itself from its beak as it flapped two enormous wings and rose into the air.

Behind the Thunderbird, across the platform, Sara could faintly see the ghostly silhouette of the boy, peeking around a rock. She smiled to herself, and as the Thunderbird soared furiously towards her, she reached into her robe’s pocket.

She pulled out a small object with a steady hand, and held it between her thumb and forefinger. The Thunderbird’s eyes narrowed as it came nearer, and tried to make out the object she held, assuming it to be a weapon of some sort. It raised it’s razor sharp talons as it dipped lower towards the ground.

Just as it came into striking distance, something unexpected happened. It happened so suddenly, and so swiftly, that the Thunderbird could barely react. At first, it had noticed the tiny object in the tengu’s fingers begin to glow, sending tiny rays of light in every direction.

Then, it felt as if the sky all around it had shattered, and reformed into a void like black. The broken sky seemed to engulf the two combatants, absorbing them within it’s opaque surface.

The Thunderbird roared and tried to fly up and away, but the darkness followed it, and as the beast was taken under even it’s scream was deafened, until the only sound that remained on the empty platform was the gusting wind.

When the Thunderbird opened her eyes, she realized that she was no longer the manifestation of her rage and regret. Those harsh feelings had fallen away, and all that remained was...

“Kanna Kapatcir.”

She looked up, widening her bright amethyst-colored eyes, and tilting her head to one side. 

“Ruu,” she choked out a name that had been lost to time. It rolled off her tongue like she had met her favorite human only yesterday.

“Oh, how I’ve missed you,” she breathed, voice shaking as she lowered herself, so that her head came closer to the ground. Ruu stepped forward, and with a fearless gentleness, he ran his hand along her beak.

“I’m sorry,” Ruu began quietly. 

“Why are you sorry? They’re the ones who… who…”

But she couldn’t finish, and though the thought had always made her blood boil, here, with Ruu beside her, she finally felt again the peace that had come to her, all those years ago, when she had first heard his song.

“I’m sorry for what you’ve been through,” Ruu replied.

Kapatcir looked at him, and there came the realization that he, who deserved it most, did not expect vengeance. Suddenly, she wondered why she had ever wanted that either. All those years. All that rage.

Who had it all been for?

“You were lost to me, for so, so long,” she murmured sorrowfully as her eyes lowered to the ground. There were spirals of sand at their feet. She wondered, vaguely and idly, where she was, and who had taken her here, but in the next moment the questions passed.

“I was never lost,” Ruu replied.

The great bird raised her eyes searchingly.

“I have always been here,” Ruu continued, gently motioning one pointed finger to Kapatcir’s chest.

“Nothing will change that.”

The Thunderbird’s eyes softened, and then they fell closed, and she released a gentle sigh as the truth of Ruu’s words fell upon her heart.

“That’s true, isn’t it?” she replied, and suddenly she felt the weight of exhaustion drape itself around her like a warm blanket. 

“Rest now,” Ruu soothed, as he stroked her beak once more, “and I will see you soon.”

“Rest... sounds wonderful,” Kapatcir murmured as she relaxed her enormous body upon the cool sand. 

Then, Ruu began to sing. He sang quietly, and Kapatcir felt his voice resonating within her as she drifted comfortably, and peacefully, to sleep. 

The chains of vengeance cracked and fell away, and without anger and misery to bind her, her body began to sparkle and shimmer and fade to brilliant specks of amethyst-gold. 

The points of light floated out across the expanse of the Plane of Euthymia. Multiplying as the great form of Kanna Kapatcir found peace.

The boy was gone. In his place, Ei stood.

She wiped a tear from her cheek, and turned. Sara was standing behind her, golden eyes wide as she stared at the polarizing prism in her fingers.

“It really worked,” Sara breathed.

Ei smiled. 

“It was your idea,” she teased, “were you worried it might not?”

Sara blushed, but just as she was about to counter Ei’s query, something in the distance caught her eye. 

A figure had walked out from within the floating points of light. 

Ei turned her head to follow Sara’s gaze.

Her lavender eyes widened.

A moment passed. They were still standing there. 

They were smiling.

“Sasayuri?” Ei’s voice rang out in the silence.

“Ei,” Sasayuri’s voice was calm; serene, “and…?”

Sasayuri’s golden eyes landed on Sara. Sara stood up straighter and brushed a strand of hair out of her face.

“My friend,” Ei replied in Sara’s stead, “Sara.”

A pleased expression crossed Sasayuri’s face.

“Has she challenged you to a game of uta-garuta yet?” They asked.

“Yes,” Sara replied stutteringly, “but I haven’t won one.”

Sasayuri smiled wider. 

“It gladdens me to see one who also shares the tengu bloodline providing Ei with warm company.”

Sara took in a breath, and nodded. Her throat felt tight.

“Sasayuri,” Ei breathed. 

Sasayuri’s golden eyes returned to Ei. They stepped closer, and Ei closed the distance. 

“How did you come to be here?”

Sasayuri’s eyes rose into the beautiful sunrise that hung in the sky of the Plane of Euthymia.

“It seems that a part of my soul was bound to the Thunderbird’s manifestation. In releasing it, you have released me.”

Ei’s eyes softened as she listened, and she swallowed as her throat tightened.

“So, this is goodbye,” she nearly whispered, but when she looked up she didn’t look afraid or overwhelmed. Her expression was one of gentle acceptance. 

Sasayuri smiled warmly, and reached out a hand to place upon her shoulder. She sighed at their touch.

“I’m glad to have met you, Ei.”

Ei reached up to place her hand atop Sasayuri’s, resting there at her shoulder. She looked at them, and returned their smile. 

“Rest well, friend,” Ei replied sweetly. 

She felt Sasayuri’s form begin to disperse into those same bright gold-violet points of light. She closed her eyes, and breathed in deeply. By the time her lungs had filled with air, the hand at her shoulder had gone.

Then, she felt another hand, placed upon her own. 

“I’m here.”

Sara’s soothing voice flowed into Ei’s mind like a balm. She could feel Sara’s fingers, stroking her knuckles with a patient gentleness.

“I’m here,” Sara whispered, again. 

Ei opened her eyes.

“Thank you,” she whispered back, as leaned into Sara’s embrace.

Sara held her in the silence. The true silence, without storm or wind as a backdrop, of the Plane of Euthymia. The sunrise sparkled all around them. 

She closed her eyes.

In her mind, or maybe far, far away, she heard another voice. A familiar voice. The voice of the boy; the voice of Ruu.

And, he, too, spoke the words, that echoed there in Sara’s heart:

Thank you.

Chapter Text

In the Plane of Euthymia, Sara held Ei in a warm and comforting embrace.

As she held her, her mind wandered. She thought about her dreams, their journey, that final battle. Eventually, she allowed herself to be taken back to that moment in the cool, dark cavern, when she had taken Ei’s face in her hands, and, lit by flickering candlelight, pulled her gently downwards to share a tearful kiss.

That feeling had been incredible; unlike anything Sara had ever experienced before. 

It had also felt so right.

As the Raiden Shogun’s general, Sara had never allowed herself the notion of such a thought. As dearly as her heart may have wished for it, being anything more than who she was then felt… impossible.

But now, after all that had happened on their journey, Sara felt differently. 

About Ei.

About herself. 

About everything. 

Sara thought back to her first visit to Ei’s Plane of Euthymia. Her first real meeting with Ei, who had taken her there willingly. It felt like so long ago, even though only a handful of days had passed.

She thought on Ei’s kind words; her encouraging smile. And then, she remembered the pure white flower that Ei had summoned within her hand. An unknown flower, that Sara had never seen before, nor knew the name of. 

Sara realized that that had been the exact moment where a sliver of hope had begun to spark in the depths of her. 

It felt like a miracle.

Perhaps it had been exactly that. 

Sara breathed in deeply. The cool, still morning air of the Plane felt clean and clear in her lungs. Golden-pink light from the sunrise reflected warmly on the bare skin of her idly flexing biceps as she kept her arms wrapped steadily around Ei’s waist.

After some restful, quiet time, Ei began to stir. Sara relaxed her embrace and pulled away so that she could look her in the eyes.

“How’re you feeling?” She asked as she looked into Ei’s face, and saw her lashes lowered across tearfully bright lavender irises. Her heart ached at the display of emotion on Ei’s face.

“I feel…” Ei began, and then paused as she contemplated, “lighter.”

Then, Ei looked up into Sara’s face, and her eyes brightened. 

“You were amazing, back there.” 

Sara’s cheeks burned at Ei’s approval. 

“Really?”

Ei smiled teasingly. 

“You faced the Thunderbird without the need for battle. Without fear.”

Sara thought on Ei’s words as her blush began to fade.

“I never feared the Thunderbird,” she began, more to herself than anything as she worked through her feelings while Ei listened patiently.

“It was the fear of falling back into my old ways. My old self.”

Sara’s golden eyes narrowed, not with anger, but with determination. Ei’s throat nearly went dry as she sucked in a breath to hear Sara’s voice, so powerfully direct.

“I was afraid to lose everything I had gained. To lose the person I had become,” she paused, and her hands at the small of Ei’s back tightened momentarily. 

“To lose,” Sara nearly whispered, “us.”

“Sara…”

Ei’s cheeks tinged pink as Sara’s words struck her, and her lips parted again in that way that Sara had become so familiar with. An invitation. She leaned down, and pressed her lips against Ei’s once more. 

As they deepened the kiss in unison, Sara’s eyes fell closed. She felt her heart racing beneath her chest, and then she felt Ei place her hand above Sara’s heart. Ei’s delicate fingers were insistent as she pulled the fabric of Sara’s top; pulling her closer as she pressed her tongue past Sara’s tender lips. 

Sara moaned into the kiss, and felt a kind of heat, stirring within her core. Her brows rose as Ei’s passion nearly overwhelmed her, and she felt then that she would do anything, give anything, to be closer to her. Closer to Ei, who she felt understood her and cared for her more than anyone else in the whole universe.

Ei’s other hand held the back of Sara’s neck, steady and tender, as sharp, pointed fingernails grazed the tendons that ran up to her beautifully cut jaw. 

Then, Sara began to notice a change, from behind her closed eyelids. The light was deepening, darkening, from gentle pink to vibrant orange, to navy blue and finally, a tranquil indigo. It reminded her, momentarily, of the stormy Seirai skies, and that hint of a brilliant sunset, just behind the clouds. 

With a fleeting sweetness, Ei gently broke away. Sara’s lips were raw and moist, and remained parted as she tried to remember to breathe. 

“Open your eyes,” Ei murmured sweetly.

Sara obeyed.

A clear night’s sky lay out in every direction. Constellations sparkled all around them, thousands of differently colored stars, twinkling above their heads. Far in the distance, beyond the weathered torii gates, there were shimmering waves of pink and teal light, floating along the edges of the horizon. 

“It’s beautiful,” Sara’s voice shook with a sudden wave of emotion. 

Then, Ei stepped away, and guided Sara by the shoulder to turn her round. 

Sara’s eyes widened as she saw, laid out before them, a quaint campfire, one smooth log for seating, and a small, amethyst-colored tent. The sweet smell of roasted Amakumo fruit and grilled fish delighted her senses. The fire crackled welcomingly.

Sara turned her head, eyes wide and searching, as she glanced at Ei.

Ei smiled, and shrugged lightly. 

“I suppose my heart is set on camping, one last time before our journey ends,” Ei offered contentedly, as she took Sara’s hand in her own.

After they had eaten, and sat cuddled by the fire for warmth, and Ei had spent some time pointing out the constellations above their heads and telling Sara the tales that each one held, they had become quite relaxed and ready for bed.

They stepped into the tent, and Sara smiled apologetically to find that the layout matched the one they had been camping in throughout their journey.

“You couldn’t have made it any bigger, even here?” Sara asked with a teasing curiosity.

“For what reason?” Ei quipped smilingly back.

“Oh, but I can do this,” she added, and then Sara felt a sudden change of texture and warmth against her skin. Her armor and robes had been replaced with something much more comfortable. A simple, fluffy robe that matched the color of the one that she noticed Ei now also wore.

It happened so quickly that Sara hadn’t the time for surprise. Her eyebrows raised as she touched the fluffy softness of the robe, and she smiled in astonishment at how good it felt against her bare skin.

“Comfortable?” Ei asked, as she settled down into their shared sleeping bag.

“Very,” Sara breathed, as she followed Ei’s lead and settled into the sleeping bag beside her, sitting up against the back of the tent.

Ei crawled closer, and set her head on Sara’s shoulder. Sara took in a confident breath, enjoying the feeling of Ei resting against her solid frame.

“So you’re telling me that, all this time, we could have been resting easily here, each and every night of our journey?” Sara teased.

Ei’s lips curved into a small smile.

“It seemed like cheating, to do all that,” Ei confessed playfully.

Sara chuckled and shook her head.

“That sounds like something I would’ve said.”

“When I ran that particular conversation through my mind after we began traveling together, it was exactly how I thought you might reply,” Ei replied factually.

“How do you think I might reply now?” Sara implored curiously.

“Now,” Ei murmured, as she pressed her lips against Sara’s jutting collarbone, “I think you might be the one to request it.”

Sara’s cheeks and shoulders burned at Ei’s statement, all the more because she could feel the truth of it. 

“You know me so well,” Sara breathed.

There was a pause, and then Ei glanced up into Sara’s eyes. 

“When we had first started this journey, back on the boat, I had asked you what I was like. Do you remember?”

Sara’s brows lifted, but she nodded.

“I do remember,” Sara confirmed. It had been hard to forget that moment, when Ei had looked so excited to hear about Sara’s perception of her, and then dismayed to remember that they had only just started talking, as equals.

“Now that we’ve spent time together, I’d like to hear your answer.”

Sara swallowed thickly, but her heart was already carrying her through.

“When we first met, here in the Planet of Euthymia, you had shown me a flower,” Sara began quietly.

Ei tilted her head to one side at Sara’s apparent sidetracking, but she smiled curiously, and nodded.

“I did indeed,” Ei replied simply.

“Would you tell me,” Sara began as she ran a hand through the long, dark strands of Ei’s hair, “the name of that flower, and what it means to you?”

Ei was quiet for a moment, sighing with comfort as Sara’s attentive fingers stroked her hair. Her eyes fell closed.

“That flower is called the Lotus,” Ei murmured. 

“The Lotus,” Sara repeated under her breath. She liked the way the name felt on her tongue. 

“Makoto brought one back from Liyue, long ago,” Ei breathed, relaxing herself against Sara’s chest, “I had thought them beautiful, and mysterious. They symbolize purity, enlightenment.”

Ei’s hand rose, and she pressed her hand upon Sara’s. Her smooth, long fingers intertwined with the tengu’s thick, calloused ones. 

“Rebirth,” Ei added meaningfully, as she watched Sara’s fingers close around her own.

Sara was holding her breath. When Ei did not continue, she sighed easily.

“To me, you are like that flower,” Sara began.

Ei froze, and her eyes rose to meet Sara’s gaze.

“Mysterious and beautiful,” Sara’s voice lowered to a whisper, “unlike anything I have ever witnessed. Unknowable. Unreachable. But only at first.”

Sara brought Ei’s hand up tenderly to her face, and pressed her lips against the tips of Ei’s fingers, and the tops of her knuckles.

“Now, I feel like I’ve known that flower all my life,” Sara finished.

Ei’s eyes hinted at the start of tears, and her lashes narrowed with a trembling sort of happiness as Sara stared down at her with graceful intention.

“And you said your voice couldn’t sound lovely,” Ei teased tearfully. 

“If it’s with you,” Sara murmured gently, “anything seems possible.”

Chapter Text

After falling peacefully to sleep in each other’s arms, and waking up late to the Plane of Euthymia’s new sunrise, Ei brought them back to Seirai.

The first thing Sara noticed, as she stood atop the Thunderbird’s now empty platform, was that the storm had disappeared. The churning purple clouds were nowhere to be found, and the morning light sparkled upon the islands all around them. 

“The storm…” Sara began, awestruck at the difference a blue sky could make. 

“With the Thunderbird’s manifestation finally at rest, so too may these islands find peace. Someday, perhaps, people will find their way back here, to build a new life and rebuild these broken islands,” Ei spoke the words like a solemn incantation, and as Sara listened she felt the power of them.

“I’d like to help rebuild,” Sara confided as she stepped forward and looked down upon the beach where Sasayuri’s ship lay washed ashore, and at the empty, broken houses of Kouseki Village, far below.

Ei smiled, and turned to take Sara’s hand.

“And you will,” Ei replied gently, “but we, too, must take some time to ourselves, to rest.”

Sara nodded, and then she turned. She took one final breath of Seirai’s breeze; one final look at all that lay before her. 

Her heart trembled as she thought about the uncertainty of what came next, but then she felt Ei’s fingers giving her own hand a light squeeze, and after a moment, she gave a short nod.

“I’m ready,” Sara began, as she drew her gaze back to Ei, who was smiling with a patient kindness. 

“Let’s go home.”

After reaching Narukami Island, they stopped, first, at Yae Publishing House.

“Well, what do we have here?” 

The Grand Narukami Shrine’s Head Priestess, and the Yae Publishing House’s acting director, nearly dropped her manuscript as she pushed herself up from her desk with excitement.

Ei had entered her office first, with Sara following closely behind.

Yae’s thin brows raised high upon her head as her lips curved into a knowing smile.

“Your joint expedition went over well, I take it?” Her voice had a playful, curious sort of amusement, as she walked around her desk and sat herself at the edge of it, fluffy pink ears perking up at the sound of Ei’s voice.

“We accomplished what we had gone there to do,” Ei began, and then she glanced at Sara, who was fidgeting to one side of her, and smiled at her. “Wouldn’t you say, Sara?”

“Yes,” Sara confirmed, bluntly. She glanced over to return Ei’s smile, but only for a moment.

In truth, Sara’s mind was spinning. She wondered how close she should be with Ei. It wasn’t something she had thought about, before now. It seemed too confusing, suddenly, to keep track of how she ought to act. And then there was the question of where she should go, after this. She couldn’t just follow Ei back to Tenshukaku, could she?  But she didn’t want to go back to her empty home, either.

Just as her mind began a panicked spiral, she felt Ei’s hand, soft against her shoulder as she pulled her into a half embrace.

“I can’t thank you enough, Miko.”

Yae’s smile curved wider and grander as Ei’s commendation rang out through the snug office.

“Finally, you see the beauty in my designs,” Yae spoke the words teasingly, “and you most certainly owe me, don’t you think?”

Ei seemed unwilling to give Yae a confirmation. Her lips formed a somewhat stubborn pout as she refused to meet Yae’s perceptive gaze.

Suddenly, Sara realized she had no idea what their bantering conversation was about.

Yae looked comically appalled by Ei’s refusal to reply, and brought a dainty hand dramatically up to her chest.

“If I hadn’t told Sara about your little secret, well, I’m sure you’d still be sitting alone in Tenshukaku’s highest tower.”

Ei looked like she was about to say something, but then Yae cut her off to continue.

“And if I hadn’t convinced Sara to go see you, and then for you to follow her onto the boat for Seirai, where would either of you be now?”

Sara stared at her, golden eyes going wide. She felt like she should prepare some sort of counter statement, but just as she began to find the resolve to do so, Ei seemed to relax against her.

“For what I’ve gained, I’ll be the first to say I owe you dearly,” Ei replied honestly, her bright eyes giving Yae a meaningful glance, which Yae returned with a pleased smile and nod of her own.

“I’m so happy to hear you say that,” Yae murmured gently, as her teasing voice gave way to a tone that felt more honest and natural, “knowing how much you both deserve this.”

Sara could feel her face going red. She glanced over to Ei, hoping to take some confidence in what she assumed would be Ei’s stoic expression, but she was startled to see that Ei was blushing right along with her.

Ei shook her head, and regained her bearings. 

“Tonight, there will be a celebration on Amakane Island. Would you care to join us at my table?” Ei implored with a regality befitting Inazuma's archon.

Yae’s eyes widened.

“You’re attending?”

“I am,” Ei replied simply, with a smile. 

“It’s been…”

“Five hundred years.”

Ei’s lavender eyes softened apologetically, and she took in a breath as she watched Miko’s surprise transform into excitement.

“I’ll be there,” Yae confirmed, as she crossed her arms comfortably before her chest, “and for everything I’ve done, I expect to be your guest of honor.”

“An acceptable request,” Ei replied easily.

Sara tilted her head to one side. 

“I’m sorry, just one question,” Sara spoke out, as Yae and Ei both stopped to look at her, “there’s going to be a festival?”

“Ei used to throw them all the time,” Yae offered playfully.

Ei’s hand squeezed Sara’s shoulder gently.

“I’m throwing this one for you,” Ei murmured, grinning delightfully as she watched Sara’s eyes widen.

While Sara tried to catch her breath, Ei switched tact.

“Before we go, I have one more request.”

“Never a dull moment,” Yae confided teasingly.

“We’d like to commission a written work.”

This, at least, was a topic that Sara was familiar with, as she and Ei had spent the entire boat ride back to Narukami Island discussing the idea. She watched as Yae’s brows lifted upwards, and her ears stood out to listen more intently.

“On what topic?” Yae asked curiously, as she pulled a pad of paper and a quill to her side to take notes.

“The Thunderbird.”

Yae raised her eyes from her notes to look at Ei directly.

“A history book, then?” 

Ei thought on her words, and Sara spoke up for her.

“More of a light novel, to be honest.”

Yae’s pointed gaze turned towards Sara, pinning her there with her bright, light-violet eyes. 

“The Thunderbird is the protagonist,” Sara continued decisively, blushing as she could feel Ei’s approving glance.

“How... unexpected,” Yae murmured as she took down a few notes, “I like it.”

Sara and Ei glanced at each other with excitement.

“One small thing, though,” Yae began. The pair looked back at her, brows raised.

“I’ll need some groundwork. Some real “in the field” sort of things. You might need to spend a great deal of time together, to work out some of the finer details.”

Yae’s playful voice made Ei’s eyes narrow with delight. Sara’s head tilted to one side, and then she caught on and shook her head as a smile crossed her features.

“That won’t be a problem,” Ei replied easily, “as we’ve planned a number of camping trips already.”

“The festival begins at sunset,” Ei began idly as they walked out of the Yae Publishing House’s grand entrance. A group of people had gathered there, knowing that the Almighty Shogun had entered. Now, seeing her appear in the streets before them, they had stopped and made to wave and bow. Children cheered.

Ei took it all in stride, raising a single hand in greeting. She smiled, nodding to the group that had gathered.

“What shall we do until then?” Ei asked, glancing at Sara.

“I’d been wondering the same thing,” Sara confessed.

“Do you wish to return home?” Ei asked.

Sara thought for a moment.

“Not really,” she mumbled.

“Come back to Tenshukaku, then,” Ei replied gently, “I’ll have a warm bath drawn. We’ll find you something festive to wear.”

Sara’s heart fluttered at the idea. It was so effortless, to accept it, and know that she deserved it.

“I'd like that,” she nearly whispered.

“Wow.”

Ei’s awestruck voice echoed in the expansive bedroom of Tenshukaku’s living quarters. 

Sara looked down at herself.

She wore the loose-fitting kimono that Ei had picked out her; dyed a deep indigo fading to onyx-black. Intricate, silver-grey cloud designs faded in a gradient across the length of it at beautifully precise angles. The fabric felt amazing on her freshly bathed skin.

“It fits so well,” Sara breathed, wondering if she had ever felt so comfortable as this.

“That one’s called A Summer Storm Past Midnight,” Ei mused, “and it suits you wonderfully.”

She paused, watching as Sara strode to where Ei sat, on her bed.

“Do you like it?”

“It’s beautiful,” Sara breathed, as she sat beside Ei and her eyes travelled to Ei’s own garment.

Ei’s kimono seemed to have been picked to match Sara’s, but where Sara’s was indigo and black, Ei’s was amethyst and gold. Stylized, geometric white-lighting designs travelled across the sleeves, and down towards the hem. 

In vibrant, royal purples, Ei truly looked like Inazuma’s archon. 

But to Sara, all she could see… was Ei.

“A Summer Storm Before Dawn,” Ei added, as she noticed Sara’s eyes taking in the fine detail of her outfit.

“We make quite the pair,” Ei began proudly, as her hand lifted to rest on Sara’s shoulder, and then, trailing down, she followed the cloud patterns on the sleeves, until she reached to hold Sara’s hand within her own.

The sun was close to setting, and the dying light of it was falling into Ei’s bedroom like a promise. Sara raised her eyes to look around the room.

“I hadn’t realized you slept up here,” she murmured.

“Ah, well, the Shogun doesn’t exactly need sleep,” Ei began quietly, “but I did once reside here, before all that.”

Sara’s eyes wandered, and she found her attention drawn to a single flower, laying there atop the bedside table. It was perfectly preserved, and colored a radiant purple. 

This species of flower was one that Sara recognized, having spent so much time on the wild, rocky mountains of Inazuma.

“That’s a beautiful windflower,” Sara breathed. 

Ei smiled as she followed Sara’s gaze.

“How fitting, that you would be so drawn to it,” Ei replied, “as that particular flower hails from the mountains of Seirai.”

Ei stood, and reached to take the fragile flower in her hands. There was a pin affixed to the back of it, that Ei gently unclasped. She stepped before where Sara sat, and leaned down to pin the flower into Sara’s hair, near her ear, on the opposite side of where her mask rested.

Sara sucked in a breath, and vaguely in the back of her mind she wondered if she would ever get used to being so close to Ei, and the way her heart raced within these perfectly intimate moments.

Ei glanced at the flower, which had once carried the faint sound of thunder, and the cry of a bird. Now, it was peacefully silent.

“This variety of wildflower was swept away by that eternal storm,” Ei nearly whispered, as Sara’s golden eyes pulled up to hers, “and this may be the only one that remains.”

“Maybe now,” Sara murmured hopefully, “they’ll have a chance to grow back.”

“I think they will,” Ei replied gently.

Sara shuddered momentarily as she felt Ei’s cool fingers beneath her chin. She raised her head at Ei’s gentle insistence, eyes falling nearly closed as Ei leaned down for a kiss.

As the sun began its descent towards the horizon, the pair made their way to Amakane Island. From a distance, the lights from the festival seemed almost magical.

Ei took her hand as they walked up the gently sloping hill. The food carts and various other festival stalls were colorful and exciting, lit by the sunset’s vibrant orange tint. 

“Enjoying yourself?” Ei asked curiously, as they sat at a food stall that smelled particularly delicious.

“Very much,” Sara began thoughtfully, as a steaming plate of yakisoba was set down before her by the food stall’s vendor.

“I realized that this is the first festival I’ve attended where I’m not on active duty,” she added.

Ei tilted her head to one side, watching as Sara enjoyed her food. Ei herself had opted to skip dinner and go directly for dessert, and she took a small bite of tricolor dango before speaking again.

“Have you thought about how you’ll proceed, with the Tenryou Commission, and the Kujou Clan?”

Sara swallowed a bite of food and pursed her lips momentarily.

“I’ve been thinking on it,” she murmured. “I’m still not entirely sure what I should do. It feels… wrong, to just give it all up. I still enjoy practicing my bowmanship. Taking command. Helping others.”

Ei listened quietly, nodding as Sara spoke.

“But it also feels… lonely, to go back to all of that the way I had before. I can barely stomach the idea of returning to my home.”

Sara’s words made her own throat tighten as she struggled to release them, but she had to make her feelings known.

Ei had gone still, eyebrows raised as an idea formed.

“Perhaps all you need is a change of atmosphere,” Ei murmured, and Sara glanced over to her, watching as Ei’s mind seemed to be working through an idea.

“How do you mean?” She asked, hopefully. 

“There are opportunities for advancement, as commanding officer of the Shogun’s personal guard. You would have free reign to take on rebuilding campaigns, while overseeing Inazuma’s security.”

Sara’s heart began to race as an excited, hopeful feeling began to course through her.

“And,” Ei added, “you could stay with me, in Tenshukaku, if you so choose,” and at this point, a tender, pink blush had crossed onto Ei’s cheeks, and she looked down at her half-eaten dango, as if she had suddenly taken a great interest in it. 

Sara felt breathless as the opportunity washed over. Somehow, Ei’s offer felt like a new lease on life, while still allowing her to have all those things she enjoyed. Her archery, a chain of command, responsibility, duty; but in a way that felt meaningful. In a way that finally felt right. 

And best of all, she could spend more time with Ei.

“That sounds perfect,” Sara nearly whispered, smiling as she leaned over to nuzzle Ei’s shoulder.

Ei smiled brightly as she wrapped her arm languidly around Sara’s muscular back, pulling her close. 

“Promotion granted. Effective immediately,” she murmured teasingly, as she pressed her lips to Sara’s forehead.

Sara couldn’t help but laugh.

The sun had finally set, and it would soon be time for the main event. In the darkness, the lanterns and the stalls lit up the surrounding boughs of cherry blossom trees, and everything was aglow with a warm and cozy light. 

The pair left the food stall and headed higher up the hill, past the carts entirely, until they were almost at the cliff’s edge. A few cherry blossom trees surrounded a long, low table that had been set there. The table was covered in plates of food and drinks, and surrounded by glowing lanterns and fairy lights. 

It was a magically romantic setting, and Sara felt breathless as she witnessed the beauty of it.

As they neared, she noticed Guuji Yae waving them over to a couple empty cushions on the side of the table that looked out onto the night’s sky.

“Thank you for saving us seats,” Ei joked as she sat beside Yae.

“I brought you these,” Yae said as she lifted a worn-looking pack of uta-garuta cards. 

“I had forgotten about that set,” she murmured. 

“We’ll have to teach your girlfriend over there,” Yae teased.

Sara nearly spat out her drink, but Ei only smiled.

“I’ve already taught her, and I’ll have you know she’s quite the contender.”

Miko made a disbelieving huff and looked into Sara’s wide-eyed, blushing face appraisingly. 

“We’ll see about that,” she mused. 

“Perhaps we can play tonight,” Sara offered courageously as Yae’s brows raised, “and I’ll show you the truth in Ei’s words.”

Yae grinned at the challenge.

And then, her eyes widened. 

“Oh! I almost forgot,” she began, as she pulled out a tall, opaque glass vase and uncapped the lid, “I brought you this, too.”

Sara watched as Yae poured a pink-colored, milky substance into three glasses.

“You’re unbelievable,” Ei murmured.

“What’s that?” Sara asked curiously.

“Dango milk,” Yae replied confidently, “Ei’s new favorite treat.”

Ei’s cheeks burned, and her eyes fell closed.

“Sara doesn’t--” Ei began, but Sara cut her off.

“May I try some?”

A victorious grin exploded onto Yae’s face as she placed a cup of dango milk into Sara’s reaching hand.

“Of course,” Yae teased, as she gave Ei, who had opened her eyes in surprise, a pointed look. 

“I thought you didn’t--”

But before Ei could say another word, Yae put a glass of dango milk into her hands.

“Enjoy it,” she murmured, and watched with satisfaction as Ei’s eyes softened, and she looked down at the cup in her hands.

“Thank you,” she nearly whispered, and then she smiled as she felt Miko’s fluffy tail brush, tender and teasing, against her shoulder. 

Sara took a small sip of the pink-colored drink. And then another. Her golden eyes widened as she looked in Yae’s direction.

“Good?” Yae asked sweetly.

“Very good,” Sara confided. 

“I’m glad you like it,” Ei murmured through a smile.

Yae smiled, and sat back.

“The fireworks should be starting soon,” Ei pointed out.

“I feel like they already have,” Yae teased.

From the top of Amakane Island one can see the whole of Inazuma City. At night, the city is lit up, and shines atop the sloping mountain that leads to Tenshukaku. The observation tower stands above it all, glowing in the night like a promise.

A promise.

A chance.

There are many beautiful and fantastic experiences, there at our fingertips, so long as we accept that the moment and the chance of them are fleeting.

Ei’s words lit up the sky of Sara’s mind, and she reached out, sitting there at the low table, to take Ei’s hand in her own.

Ei turned to her, and offered her a smile.

Then, the fireworks show began.

Sara’s eyes widened as the many-colored explosions of light scattered and shimmered in the sky before the gentle glow of Inazuma City.

Circular red bursts, teal diamond-shaped ones, and gold and violet flower patterns filled the sky. The sound of them exploding and then crackling into the night filled Sara’s ears, and the sight of it filled her heart.

Sara watched, tearfully emotional, as each beautiful explosion drove that fantastic, miraculous feeling of hope ever deeper into her heart. She could hardly believe that her old self, not even very long ago, had willfully ignored this beautiful display. 

Now, she wanted nothing more than to feel it, all of it, with Ei by her side.

Because (and she was sure of it now; more sure of this than of anything she had ever felt sure of before) she knew how she felt. 

She loved Ei.

Then, she turned her head, and with a startled widening of her eyes and a shuddering gasp, she realized that Ei had not been watching the fireworks at all. 

Ei had been watching her.

And she knew, in that moment, that Ei felt the same.