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If Tomo had one skill, it was faking confidence. He wasn't too bad of a swordsman, and his Vision had increased his ability, turning him into a tough, fire-forged warrior who could hold his ground to most enemies, albeit larger than him or not human.

But no matter how strong you are, there's a limit to how high up you can aim— and challenging a goddess was a deed far too audacious even for someone as reckless as him.

When the Vision Hunt Decree took action, he couldn't help but watch powerlessly. He had nothing to fear, because Kazuha and he would always be safe, the inexperienced hands of soldiers unable to scratch them. But the thought of innocent citizens losing their ambitions, falling prey to the Shogun one by one, and turning into empty shells deprived of their precious memories, rendered him unable to sleep.

Kazuha could feel it as they lay in bed restless for hours, both of them staring at the ceiling of the inns they slept at, or at the tiny stars in the night sky. They knew from the start that, if there had to be anyone to dare and tame the lightning's fury, it would be them. Only they could hope to stop her. And if Tomo had ever defined himself as brave, basking in pride for his heroic actions, then it was his call.

His legs were shaking while he climbed up the stairs to the Tenshukaku. He wasn't a fool. He was aware that, the moment he'd step on the path of the god, he would say his final goodbye to the world, his life taken as the first pawn of the great chessboard of fate.

The duel against her attendant was surprisingly simple, not quite what he craved. She wasn't his target, she was merely a stain of blood paving the way to rebellion. What he longed for, what he truly needed to deal with, was far beyond her. It was the devil herself, the tyrant oppressing his compatriots.

It's not like he planned to win . He only wished to put up a fight. Perhaps, he wanted to be remembered by posterity, or to simply set an example that it wasn't a privilege of heroes to oppose wicked gods— sometimes, it could be just about anyone.

He managed to leave a scar, at least. His blade traced a deep cut through her chest, a wound that would likely sting and hurt for some time, although not profound enough to be lethal. His aspirations were fulfilled. The name Tomo would go down in history, and so would his reason to fight.

So, when death came for him, he was oddly relaxed, as if he had been ready for it since birth. "You're destined to do something great," his father chanted all the time, before being taken away by a cruel illness. And with that, he had sealed his oath to destiny.

As the Musou no Hitotachi slashed through him, life flowing out of his veins like spilled honey, he didn't expect to see tufts of white hair flash before his eyes. Kazuha jumped in front of him, receiving the strongest blow.

He died on the spot, his body already motionless when Tomo came to his senses. He wondered what he thought in his last moments. That he could shield him, maybe, or even save him? How bold of him to assume that Tomo could have been able to live with himself if he had allowed such a thing to happen. 

The human shield still proved to be a laughable obstacle to divine power. The wound running through his chest was painful, blood soaking the ground around them, drenching their clothes. The Shogun walked up to them, looking down on their broken bones with disdain. She won, and she knew it. But more people like them would come to claim her head.

"This is only the beginning, hag," he heard himself whisper before the world spiraled black. He didn't know yet how right he was.

Maybe, had they been born in a different time, they would have been happier. That's the lie Tomo used to tell himself to overcome grief. But the truth is hardly ever merciful— if someone isn't fated to grasp joy, it will always flee from him, slipping through his fingers like sand inside an hourglass.

That could explain why he was chosen. Because, although immortality might seem appetizing to most mortal beings, it's actually painful, endless torture. It means he would become oblivious to the passing of time, unable to prevent the people he cared about from dying and fading into nothingness, bound to fulfill a greater purpose that he could barely figure out.

He held no memories prior to his ascension. He remembered a distant pain as his Gnosis was forged, skillfully crafted out of his chest, his body marked with scorching tattoos, and his hair tips withering into purple. If someone were to ask him for his name, he wouldn't know what answer to offer aside from "the God of Ambition, ruling over Inazuma".

That title was all he could recall of his previous existence as a human. The honors, his place on the scale connecting humanity and divinity, and a name ringing loudly inside his head. Kaedehara Kazuha . A distant echo, an indecipherable riddle to his numb mind.

For years — or centuries even, for he had little to no knowledge on the concept of time — he waited for a miracle to shine on his path, showing him what purpose he had to fulfill in the world. In the same fashion, people came in swarms before his throne, begging for blessings and favors.

He leniently conceded them all, his powers half-formed and half-spent. He granted fortune to distraught sailors, but didn't offer them safety from sea monsters. He turned pebbles into gold, but didn't give them any weight nor value. He resurrected dead relatives and lovers, but didn't bring back their souls.

His chest was as empty as a dried swamp. He felt nothing but a vague sense of duty, and implacable restlessness. He couldn't stop hearing that name, continuously biting at the back of his head, knocking at the door of his heart.

He desperately sought its owner. He interrogated his shrine maidens, all bending their necks and shoulders to honor him, unable to provide him with an answer. He asked each visiting priest, receiving the same blank expression in return. He summoned a famous historian, renowned for finding a solution to the most difficult riddles in the world, yet it proved futile.

He had to find out for himself.

He walked the earth disguised as a human. He wore humble clothes with long sleeves to hide the moving tattoos on his skin, and a large straw hat to conceal the purple tips of his hair. For the longest time, he wandered the country, roaming from peak to peak, gazing at humans but not quite seeing them for what they were.

He visited the largest cities in the countries, demanding to meet the wisest man around. He then asked the same question, mentioned the same name. Surprisingly enough, no one ever knew. Almost as if the owner had never existed, engraved into his mind like an unwritten legend.

The one who finally shed light over the darkness of his memories was a ghost. The spirit of a fox envoy, or so he thought. There was something odd in her aura, something dirty and muddy that he didn't dare to pry on. He wasn't a god of action nor a guardian of justice— Inazuma could simmer in its filth for all he cared, as long as peace reigned.

"I've heard of him," she said, her body translucent against the electrified water of Mount Yougou. "I'm not allowed to leave this mountain, but I can tell you where his soul rests."

He was rather shocked when he found the tomb. Not a gravestone had been placed on the spot. Two swords were buried halfway into the ground, their hilts broken by the passing of centuries, the blades rusty and on the brink of shattering.

Among withered blue flowers, the Archon peeked at the handwritten signs, letters carved in the stone with amateurish imprecision. There it was. Kaedehara Kazuha . Why would he remember so insistently the name of someone who had been dead for so long?

Some pieces of the puzzle fell back into place when he lay his eyes on the second name. Tomo . It felt familiar, it stirred up a quiet heat at the pit of his stomach. A crazy idea floated in his mind, the impossible thought that it might belong to him. Could that be the soil where his human heart rested?

He didn't have a name, usually called with one of his many titles, wearing them like a tight-fitting dress. But if he were to choose how he wanted to be addressed, although no one had ever asked him, he would definitely like to go by Tomo. On that date, he took on that name. Maybe, it would be the first step to reigniting his memories.

He had heard his fair share of legends among Archons and gods. All of them had countless epithets and honorifics, and most sought humanity after giving up their divine powers. He could see why. Living with no knowledge of who you once were destroys you from the inside.

He did feel like a temple that's starting to crumble.

Decades passed. The fox spirit vanished from her hideout, the mountain cleansed and pierced through to build new huts and villages. His shrine maidens, the skirts he watched swinging on the courtyard as they swept the leaves and sang pleasant lullabies, now struggled to walk under the weight of their hunched backs, carrying the burden of the years.

"Oh, my Archon," one of them pleaded, bent in front of him until her nose scraped against the pebbled soil. "Won't you grant your most loyal worshipper the gift of immortality?"

Tomo shrugged, his chest vibrating in a bitter laugh. "I wouldn't wish this torture on my worst enemy."

He never knew when that woman died. She left nothing behind, only ashes and faint memories. All he could recall of her was her gentle voice back when she was a maiden, and the terror in her plea when she could feel the whisper of death on her shoulders.

He wondered why anyone would wish to be a god, perpetually bored and empty. He wondered why anyone would wish to be a human, fragile and weak— forgettable, at most.

Centuries flow quickly when you don't fear death. Before he realized it, he had been using the name Tomo for two hundred years, wearing it on his flesh like a brand new skin.

The events of the day he ascended to the role of Archon were slowly beginning to fade. " Not even gods are immune to erosion," he had heard a fellow god say. That man was the oldest among the oldest, six thousand years on his back, and still, he feared losing his memory.

Tomo was younger, and different— he couldn't miss something he barely recalled. He would forever stay as he was. A lonely, empty god who did as he pleased and had no human emotions to shackle him to a grievance.

He didn't sit on his throne anymore. Upon hearing that he granted each and every request, greedier men had come, overthrowing the humble and needy ones. They swarmed to his palace from foreign nations, demanding the impossible from his divine hands. Money, slaves, women, power. Their eyes glowed with cruelty as they begged. Tomo didn't like the looks of it, for it reminded him of war. And war was his only enemy, although he couldn't quite remember why.

He visited the humans often, all the way from Konda to Higi Village, roaming the mountains and crossing the seas of Inazuma. He pranked them to relieve his perpetual boredom. Every individual had a different reaction, and the grimaces on their faces as they cried amused him greatly.

Each Archon was blessed with a different ability, and his was shapeshifting. He could turn into animals, monsters, all sorts of evil creatures. People pointed at him and laughed, mocking his harmless appearance, then fled in terror as soon as he showed his real appearance, with the thundering strength of a god. It was fun in its morbid way.

It's not like anything ever changed, anyway.

Until the day something did.

His routine proceeded normally. He was waiting at the crossroads near Konda Village, basking in the sun between fox statues and lit candles. Shrine maidens had come to sweep the leaves from the path already, clearing the way to the Kitsune sanctuaries scattered in the countryside.

A teen boy walked his way, dressed up in noble robes. Tomo thought he was quite naive, strolling by himself with no guards or escort to keep him safe. If he were to meet bandits, he'd be dead meat, robbed and abandoned in the corner of the street, lifeless and naked. Luckily for him, Tomo wasn't a bandit— only a prankster god.

He turned into a fox and sat in the center of the road. The wanderer bent his head, sighing under his breath as he patted him gently. He searched through the folds of his clothes and pulled out some food, handing it to him as a threat. And that's the moment Tomo chose to return to his real form, grabbing him by the wrist in an unpredictable dash.

Instead of crying, the boy reacted promptly. He fought back, squirming away from his grip in swift movements, with undeniable prowess. Taken by surprise, Tomo realized something unprecedented— his chest was trembling . That was the first, shy taste of a feeling in centuries of void, and it was gone all too soon.

"What's your name?" he asked on a whim. As irrational as it might be, he knew what the answer might be. The man he was looking for was dead, his name engraved next to the one he had stolen on a lone rock in the mountains. Still…

The stranger glared at him with distrust. "Kazuha," he mumbled.

Tomo let go of his arm, the ground swept from under his feet. How was that even possible?

Now freed from the uncomfortable grasp, the wanderer bowed his head in a polite farewell, unimpressed by Tomo's little act. "If you would excuse me, I have urgent matters to attend to."

Before he could vanish from his life again, Tomo scraped his finger along his arm, leaving a faint purple scar on his skin. He had learned as a young Archon that he could mark all creatures of the mortal realm, giving them an invisible tattoo that let him track their presence across Teyvat.

There was no such thing as being too careful.

He sensed him. Through their spiritual connection, Tomo knew what the boy did, where he lived, what his daily routine was. He perceived the times he woke and slept, and if he erased the surrounding noise, he could almost hear his breathing as well.

He couldn't wrap his head around it. Why would he remember his name out of all humans, and how did he even meet him when he was supposedly dead?

In search of answers, he headed to Sumeru, hoping the God of Wisdom might have them safely stored among the pages of his library. The Archon refused to heed his questions, suggesting he'd seek the truth by himself— because that's how meaningful wisdom is achieved, actively chasing after it. So, Tomo searched and read. Human languages were no barrier for him, his divine powers granting him the ability to decipher any text he stumbled upon.

He learned the concept of reincarnation . When souls died with unsolved matters, or emotions far too deep to simply vanish, they didn't ascend to the heavens or crawl down to the pits of the underworld. They re-entered the cycle of life and death, being granted a second chance at fulfilling their aspiration.

That boy must mean something to him. Maybe, they truly had a fated connection. In times past, emotions were fleeting and of little amusement for him. But, he had been the first creature to stir a hint of feeling ever since he became an Archon.

He needed more. He craved to find him again, to understand what their bond had been.

Ten years passed before he returned to Inazuma. He could still feel him, his mark working for eternity unless he manually cast it on someone else or removed it. Kazuha must have been in his twenties by then, in the ripe of his youth.

He found him easily. He had settled down in his absence, now living in a village in the suburbs of the capital. Fox statues were scattered all around, reminding Tomo of the fox envoy he had met in his early times as an Archon. He wondered where her spirit had ended up.

Kazuha lived alone.

Tomo appeared before him on the porch of his house, relishing the confusion on his face when their glances met. He must remember the prank he had pulled on him, the magic of his transformation. Who knows, perhaps he had decided it was a fever dream caused by the heat, its contours sweetly eroded by time.

Even so, he kindly welcomed him into his home, treating him as an honored guest. He poured him a cup of ginger tea and offered him a seat next to the porch, where the breeze blew through their hair.

"So," Kazuha said after a long silence. "I was correct in thinking you were not human."

Tomo savored the sound of his voice. It was soothing, gentle, like the water in a mountain pond. It was unfamiliar, yet warm in his chest. "What makes you say so?"

"I thought I hallucinated," Kazuha smiles politely as he pours him a second cup of tea, herbs floating on the surface. "Who in their right mind would believe seeing a fox turning into a handsome man?"

Handsome . The word sparked a flame in Tomo's stomach, curved his lips into a sly grin.

Unaware of his inner reaction, Kazuha kept speaking in between sips. "But now I see you there, ten years have passed and not a single wrinkle's across your face. Maybe I'm not a fool."

"You consider me handsome?" was the only meaningful sentence Tomo managed to get across.

"Is that the only part of my speech that stuck with you?!" Although his glare was heavy as a boulder, Kazuha laughed. There was an odd drag in his laughter, coarse exhaustion that ticked Tomo off. It wasn't supposed to be there, it sounded out of place.

Confident in the man's benevolence, Tomo dared to make his request. "May I sojourn here for a while?" he asked.

Kazuha averted his gaze. In the way he swallowed, cold sweat beading his forehead, Tomo saw the depths of his hesitation. So, he made a hopefully reassuring addition to his demand. "Only for one night," he lied.

"I would prefer it if it was no longer than that," Kazuha nodded, "No offense meant."

At that remark, Tomo's mischievous side begged him to be freed, to go wild once more. And who was he to deny himself such an innocent pleasure? "Are you sure you want to deny the wish of an evil spirit?"

Kazuha chuckled once more. "If you wanted to kill me, I believe you would have done it already," he said.

He wasn't afraid. He feared nothing, not even divinity. Tomo's chest flinched again, his gaze captured by the glow in Kazuha's red eyes. Yes, he liked him.

And so, he stayed.

Tomo couldn't lie to himself for long. He was fooling Kazuha, he had done so from the very beginning. He had never intended to leave, and it took him no longer than a week to realize what he was doing was merely forcing himself into the man's life.

"Please," Kazuha pleaded every night, "Leave by tomorrow morning."

Yet, when he woke up at dawn, Tomo was still there, naked in the bed like a spoiled child. He followed him down the garden, as he tended to his herbs and plants. He hopped behind him until he'd leave for work, disappearing past the city walls until dusk. And then, he loomed over him as he drank the night away, one cup of sake at the time.

"Why do you want me gone so badly?" he asked one day. "I don't need food, and I don't squander your alcohol."

Kazuha's answer was as simple as the spring breeze. "I treasure my alone time."

That was utterly surprising to Tomo. No human wanted to be alone. They all sought company desperately, sticking together like peas in a pod. Why did Kazuha crave loneliness instead? But he didn't dare to ask. Tomo watched from afar as a supervisor, taking glimpses of him corroding each day, his legs trembling in exhaustion in the night, his hands growing red and sore. Three years went by this way, quicker than the snap of fingers.

Then, tragic news came knocking at his door. Kazuha lost his job and was left with no source of income. That night, he cried and screamed, fearing misery. "I'm going to die," he repeated in his frenzy.

Tomo couldn't understand his terror. He wouldn't die without food or water, he was eternal just like rocks and pillars. But Kazuha, the only man who had dared to face him without being afraid of his supernatural nature, was scared out of his mind.

"I can help you," he said instinctively. He offered his hands to comfort him, his fingers to wipe away the tears from his swollen eyes.

Kazuha pushed him away, building walls of grief to shield his core. "And how? You're just a tanuki."

Tomo did the unthinkable: he revealed his true form. The tips of his hair glowed purple, reeking power, and his tattoos shone on his skin as if they were made of thriving electricity. The mark he had impressed on Kazuha's wrist revealed itself too, pulsating in a feeble purple light.

"I'm not a tanuki," he declared, "I'm the Electro Archon."

Kazuha gulped in panic, yet didn't avert his gaze. He was a brave man as usual. He feared the great unknown beyond, not any living god. He didn't bow down to the altars in the streets, and he never begged.

Kazuha was different from the humble mortals Tomo had met in his life— it filled him with curiosity and expectancy. He yearned to see how far ahead his breaking point was, at what moment would the perfect, unbendable human crack and reveal himself as fragile as every other person. "I'll help you," he repeated.

"Why would you?" Kazuha inquired suspiciously. "You're the Archon of this nation, and I'm merely a worthless human."

Tomo felt another unknown emotion. It made his blood boil, his veins light up with fire. "You're not worthless," he said, surprised by the strength in his own voice, "And I think it's the right thing to do. Or at least, that's what my heart tells me."

Still unsure, Kazuha reluctantly accepted. Despair was merely another facet of pride, after all.

Years rolled like water under the bridge, as Tomo played puppeteer. Kazuha saw great fortune come his way, with the Archon pulling at the strings of his destiny to make sure he met the right people at the appropriate time, to settle perfect deals and twist his unlucky fate.

He became rich in no time. During the week he farmed his vegetable garden, sullying his hands with mud and blood. Each night, he readied his basket of wares to sell on the road, while Tomo used some of his powers to soothe his pain and smooth his coarse skin.

Kazuha gathered a huge sum, and could soon afford lusher clothes, sturdier shoes, healthier food. "I should find a wife soon", he sometimes moped, feeling his thirty years of age crawl up his back.

Tomo felt his stomach twist whenever he did, unconsciously rejecting the thought of Kazuha with a woman or man by his side that was not him . He didn't understand why— perhaps it was simply the capricious god in him acting. He had made him wealthy, so he owned him. That's what his immortal blood whispered to him, to expect gratitude and undivided devotion. Was that all there was to it, though?

"Not yet," he said, "The moment for that will come."

The moment never came.

Tomo got bored of the many years spent idly beside Kazuha, watching over him with no action. He joined him in his work, diving his hands in the dirt, learning how to grow crops and tend to them. 

He hadn't imagined humans could handle such complicated tasks. Managing a garden was so hard, when a god could simply snap their fingers and have everything at his immediate disposal.

One night, something changed, accidentally and naturally (like most things in the mortal realm). Their hands brushed together while they braided thyme for selling, and their eyes met at the touch. Tomo saw an unknown glimmer cross Kazuha's irises, and pale red coating his cheeks.

Tomo didn't know what it meant, but through their shared bond he felt uneasiness. He didn't inquire, afraid of the depths of human emotions, so unfathomable and difficult for him. The doubt lingered for a good while, though.

And thus, even more years passed. Tomo became accustomed to living as a human, although he still relied on his powers to mend their wounds and soothe their pain.

He showed Kazuha his Electro powers, blasting trees in the distance and turning the small pond behind their house into a dangerous electrocharged pool, frying fish until they floated on the surface. In return, Kazuha told him stories of his deed as a young teen, his Anemo Vision held firmly in his palm, taming the currents. He also did a short demonstration, spinning in the autumn wind.

As he watched him perform his trick, Tomo remembered morsels of the past. He saw a man in noble clothes, with silky white hair and a red strand in it, who twirled in the wind and danced along with the breeze. He saw himself in the scene as well, deprived of tattoos, his hands calloused, and a warrior's scarred body.

He hadn't been wrong: there was a connection between them. And he wanted more of those precious memories, more keepsakes of his lost identity that burned so brightly with emotions and warmth. He was exhausted from being so empty.

The time Kazuha spent with him escalated. Considering the way he once begged for alone time, pushing Tomo away like a noisy bug, it was a stark improvement. Tomo didn't mind, because his company was honestly the best thing he could ask for.

He watched the change happen within his soul. Kazuha's face changed whenever he lay eyes on Tomo, his smile brightened when they were side to side, he snuggled against his chest when he got tipsy on sake. He slurred his words and sought physical contact. Tomo wasn't sure what he was supposed to do or say, but he let him come as close as he wished, having not tasted a body's warmth in his long years as a god.

He remembered someone from his past, as trails of a forgotten life. The two Kazuhas he knew were different, yet so similar it almost hurt. They shared many things, yet the man in front of him was a dull ghost of the one he had once known, rather than himself.

Perhaps that was the meaning of reincarnation. To preserve the body, but to lose yourself gradually. "Not even gods are immune to erosion," the God of Contracts had said. It started to make more sense to him.

Women came in swarms to ask for Kazuha's hand in marriage, lured by his riches and his beauty. He denied them all, dutifully, claiming his heart belonged to someone else. He never met with anyone, though, so Tomo assumed he might be lying to send them away.

He convinced himself of that. Then, one night, a revelation struck him. Kazuha drank a little too much, and Tomo decided to take a sip of sake for the first time as well. It was bitter and sweet mixed together, a delicious contradiction. He felt the liquid trying to overcome his reason, to numb his senses— that must be why humans lost their heads under its influx, and why he was immune thanks to his divine powers.

Although, it did make his tongue run a bit wilder than normal. "You're almost forty, but you don't want to marry," he said.

Kazuha's head plopped heavily against Tomo's chest, finding the perfect resting spot. He sulked, lips pouted like a child. "Is it truly necessary to marry?"

"I have no idea," Tomo shrugged, quite indifferent to the matter, "But humans always crave a spouse and kids to make sure their memories pass on."

Kazuha glanced up to meet his eyes, his cheeks flushed red by alcohol. "Then why don't you marry me?"

Tomo blinked in confusion. Kazuha was definitely out of his mind, speaking his truest emotions without any restraint, the sake hitting him harder with the passing of years.

Two men couldn't marry each other in Inazuma. It was a stupid law that made no sense to him whatsoever, for all humans were mortals in equal measure regardless of their gender. But Tomo ruled over the territory, not over the citizens. He dealt with the higher rules of nature and not the minor details of the people's daily lives and customs. That was a job for humans themselves.

"I don't think we can," he said.

Kazuha straddled his lap, his joints crying slightly in the movement. He wasn't old, but the strain of labor started to corrode his bones, the only part of his body that Tomo's magic could not soothe. "Then, I don't want anyone else."

Tomo was fairly sure he had kissed someone in his life before becoming an Archon. But as Kazuha pressed his lips against his, their mouths melting together, he realized he didn't remember it at all. He had no idea what the gesture meant, nor how to react. Living in Konda, he saw young couples of teens sneak behind the neighboring houses to do that in secret, or married couples hiding from the public. And that was pretty much all the information he had on the topic.

He wondered what Kazuha felt for him, what feeling moved inside his chest. Because inside of Tomo, something clearly stirred, a pale flame tingling in his veins— nothing he could give a name to.

He leaned back into the kiss, his lips matching Kazuha's movements. The man's tongue peeked through, and Tomo let it pass, welcoming it with his own. It was warm. It tasted sweet. It felt just right.

When they parted, Kazuha was tearing up. "I'm in love with you," he said. Determination mingled with guilt in his eyes, as if he realized how bold, audacious, and irreverent it was to confess one's love to a divinity. "As idiotic as it might be to fall for a god, I am in love with you."

Tomo didn't know what love meant. He enjoyed his company and yearned to keep him all for himself. Perhaps, that was close enough of a word to describe his feelings, although his mind couldn't recall its implications. "I love you too," he whispered in response.

That night, they lay together in bed. Despite the centuries of age on his back, Tomo was clumsy, every move uncertain. But Kazuha, the frail human who smiled too little and drank too often, guided him gently, showing him what steps to take. Showing him the way to open up his heart.

He realized it only when it was too late. Kazuha's company made everything warm and cozy. He never tasted loneliness after meeting him, his days always full of sunshine and surprises. But now that his life had almost expired, a thick web of wrinkles coating his body, he understood everything.

The void was about to come back. There wouldn't be any more smiles, any more moonlit kisses, any more nights huddled together under the bedsheets. Nothing was going to remain, memories of them swept by the winds like meaningless grains of dust.

"You're as beautiful as the day I met you," Kazuha whispered, "I love you."

"I love you too," Tomo answered mechanically. But Kazuha couldn't hear him. His soul no longer lingered there. His presence was gone, the connection through the purple mark on his wrist severed.

Only then it was clear. Maybe what he felt wasn't the emotion that humans called "love", declaring it so boldly at any time of the day. He thought it was quite close, though, and Kazuha was the sole person able to give him that feeble spark.

Once he was gone, emptiness swallowed Tomo. He refused to be an empty husk again. Now that he had learned warmth, he feared the cold. No one would ever be as good for him as Kazuha. So, if reincarnation was true and Kazuha still wasn't headed to the golden gates of the heavens, Tomo knew he would return someday.

And he'd seek him out, no matter where he'd end up to be.

Centuries went by. Things changed fast, the seasons spinning in a frantic whirlpool, and with every spring, with every winter, Tomo's grief grew a little more, like orange leaves piling up on the cold autumn soil.

Fox envoys and all sorts of spirits began crowding his shrines scattered across the countryside. He didn't pay too much attention to them, letting them go and leave as they pleased, barely registering their voices and laughter.

"Is it possible to turn a human into one of you?" Tomo asked one of them, as he bathed with the tanuki in the woods of Chinju Forest. "Can't I choose someone to become my servant, and grant them immortality?"

The thought of chaining Kazuha's soul to his same torture, of forcing him to witness the slow fading of the world with nothing but boredom to fill his days, made him shiver. He would be egoistic enough to do it, though, if it meant never seeing him leave again.

"That's not how it works," the fox giggled, mocking his question. An Archon who didn't know the slightest thing about spirits was laughable indeed, he knew as much. "But worry not, my Lord, I've heard kitsune will watch over you from very close."

Tomo knew a storm was coming. He didn't want to pry further, unable to decipher the riddles of those cunning creatures.

Throughout all those years, Kazuha didn't walk into his life. Tomo traveled the country from one end to the other, keeping under maniacal control the land from Fort Mumei to Jinren Island. He saw the sun rise and fall, he stared as the weather changed, in expectation.

He asked his fellow Archons, desperate for knowledge. He interrogated one by one the tanukis in Chinju Forest and the fox maidens sneaking between sanctuaries. He combed every inch of Inazuma far and wide, and the surrounding islands. No traces of him.

It became clear, after so much waiting, that he had missed him a few times already. Or, maybe, he had reached the heavens and there was no need for him to dwell in Teyvat anymore. Whatever the answer was, it certainly couldn't be found in Inazuma. So, he looked for him in the larger world, in search of the faintest traces of his passage.

He wandered from abode to abode, visiting Adepti as he went. He begged for information, trying to gather as many details as he could. Everything was valuable— trivia about gods, reincarnation, humans, himself.

The name Kaedehara Kazuha eventually faded from the folk's memory, forgotten. Once a famed warrior, he was executed by Tomo's infamous predecessor, the Raiden Shogun. He then reincarnated as a humble farmer, spending his life among the riches and blessings poured onto him by his divine companion. Nothing worth being remembered, nothing to pass on.

He understood why he had been chosen as the new Electro Archon. His mortal self had been the first man to ever defy his tyrannical forebear, wounding her deeply albeit not lethally.  He had been slaughtered before the throne along with his partner, and the two of them had bled to death before her golden throne of Eternity.

Tomo saw now that the object of his obsession was no one else than the roaming soul of the very same man who had died at his side back then, killed by divine punishment. The Musou no Hitotachi, the sole weapon he had been bestowed with, and which he refused to raise against any living creature. He wasn't a ruler, nor a tyrant. Humans could administer justice among themselves, with no need for his intervention. Much like the God of Freedom ruling over Mondstadt, he was an overseer more than a king.

The Adepti of Liyue resided in Jueyun Karst. Their abodes were carved in the naked stone of the mountains, the core pride of their land. An elevated chamber stood upon the highest peak, throning over the landscape and granting boundless sight to any god who'd stand on its roof, to keep the country safe from the clutches of evil.

Cloud Retainer had sent him a formal invitation, curious to talk to the newer god. She rarely broke her isolation to mingle with others, so it was a rare occasion that even Tomo couldn't bring himself to turn down. Also, it might be useful to his greater purpose— she would owe him a favor.

The mountain where her abode rose was covered in yellow leaves, floating on the surface of the table. They walked across the lake, Tomo holding onto his disguise as an unconscious shield, and his eyes landed on the stone table where, according to the folklore, Rex Lapis and his companions used to drink.

Right at the end of the divine path, a human was busy sweeping leaves from the shore, barely managing to sustain the weight of the straw broom in his clumsy hands.

"Ah, what a disgraceful sight," Cloud Retainer sighed. "Usually, they are finished with cleaning the area when one approaches. One apologizes for the impolite intrusion, but shall ask him to depart quickly, so as not to bother one's guest."

Mortified, the boy bowed politely, moving away from the path to let them pass. Tomo wanted to point out that he didn't mind the company of people. He liked them, actually; the only thing that refrained him from approaching them was the fresh wound of Kazuha's passing. The flavor of his lip still lingered on his mouth, the warmth of his body felt like skin carved off his own.

But he couldn't utter a single word. Because, when he lay his eyes upon the boy, his heart ceased beating. "He's…"

"One of the new recruits," Cloud Retainer interrupted him. She walked past the boy as if he didn't matter. As if he wasn't the incarnation of fair beauty. As if he wasn't the only important thing in the world. "He's very devoted to the gods, sweet indeed, but he has something eerie that one cannot begin to stand."

Tomo halted before the boy, letting the Adeptus reach the abode alone. Feeling the weight of his inquisitorial stare, the boy shyly lifted his eyes to peek at him, red irises melting into purple. It was a familiar hue, just like the silky texture of his hair and the smooth canvas of his skin.

That was his man.

"What's your name?" he asked.

He saw his eyes widen in surprise, shocked that an enlightened being would speak to him. He hid his face behind the broom, bashful, as his cheeks flared up. "Uh, I'm," he stuttered, "I'm Wanye."

Not Kazuha. Everything else matched, though, to a creepy degree of perfection. There must be more to it, the truth must be hidden somewhere deeper. As the God of Wisdom once told him, you need to search thoroughly to find your answers. He had thousands of years ahead of him, but the humans didn't. He had to be quick.

"Mind meeting me here when I'm done?" he asked.

The boy blushed darker, averting his gaze. "I-It would be an honor, my lord," he said. "Though  I'm afraid it's forbidden for humans to talk to Adepti."

What a stupid rule. "Well, then it's your lucky day," he said, "Because I'm not an Adeptus. See you here later, okay?"

He ruffled his hair up. Even the texture of it matched the one etched in his memories. It was unmistakably the same color as the scattered locks across their bodies as they died together, and the untidy ponytail of the farmer in his youth. He couldn't be wrong.

The boy nodded meekly, and they parted— Tomo's chest lit up anew.

He ended up barely listening to a single word Cloud Retainer spoke. And once he was out of her abode, head spinning from the avalanche of questions that he had been asked, he failed to remember his very reason for coming. His mind was occupied by one thought alone: the boy who looked like Kazuha yet was not him.

He was there, just as promised. After cleaning up the lakeshore, he was timidly sitting near a campfire, where pots left from pilgrims of years before shone under the sun. Surrounded by the orange foliage of trees and covered in the shadow of the mountaintop, he reminded Tomo even more of the Kazuha in his past.

"Hello, Wanye," he greeted him, "You came."

The boy looked up to him, his cheeks pink with shame. "G-Good morning."

"Don't be shy around me," Tomo sat at his side, their clothes brushing lightly in the movement. "Consider me a friend."

They had a long chat, one of those awkward ice-breaking conversations that people hurry to forget once their friendship deepens, embarrassed by the formality in their manners. Despite having a slightly changed haircut (his white locks cut short at shoulder length rather than in the side ponytail Tomo loved so much) and the clothes he wore, his soul had the same tremble to it as he remembered. A slightly shyer attitude, but that must have been caused by the different upbringing.

"Where are you from?" Kazuha was eventually bold enough to ask. "I've been serving here since I was a child, but I don't remember seeing you before."

"I'm from Inazuma." Tomo wanted to open up more, to reveal the truth, but he knew being vague was the best choice, rather than flipping his cards too soon.

Wanye's eyes widened in surprise. "Oh, Inazuma," he said. "My family hails from there."

As expected, Tomo had hit the jackpot. The Kaedehara clan, fallen with the passing of the first Kazuha and with no other heirs left behind, had no name to carry on. But there must have been a wife, a sister, a relative who had moved on, continuing the lineage, until that one Liyuean man was born. And that was the body harboring his beloved soul.

It was scary to consider how humans met and parted over and over again, reuniting unknowingly through lives and centuries. They had no idea their fates were deeply tied, linked by unbreakable bonds. Only gods knew, and they were greedy in the information they chose to reveal.

The boy seemed to see through his vagueness, his discomfort growing with each detail Tomo chose to keep a secret. But he was too shy to inquire, and he never voiced his doubts, although he wore his confusion on his sleeve.

When they parted, Tomo gently grasped his wrist, casting his mark over him. His body shivered as he felt the invisible connection between them take shape, a feeling he had forgotten. "I hope I'll see you again."

He definitely did. For a good time, Tomo made sure to meet him daily. He surprised him during his strolls around the mountain, his visits to the city, and his job of sweeping leaves around the abode. He approached Wanye quietly, asking for company with a glance.

After an initial moment of shyness, the boy always allowed him to stay, and patiently answered his questions. When their meetings became scheduled appointments, Wanye began preparing lunch for him as well, timidly offering him a chance to share.

Tomo didn't need to eat for survival, but he gulped down his meal nevertheless, to look more human to his eyes and appease his fear. Food tasted different from sake, every dish having its specific flavor. Wanye seemed to enjoy fish a whole lot, and Tomo wasn't sure what to think of it. It left his tongue stiff, and a lingering aftertaste in his mouth.

One day, after a month of daily visits, Wanye had built up the courage to question him.

"Excuse me," he asked politely. "I don't mean to sound offensive, but why would an Adeptus spend his time with a mortal such as me?"

Tomo's soul quivered. Because he loved him, and the feelings he had buried and neglected were reignited by his sole presence. And because he was curious to count the differences between that boy and his Kazuha, collecting them like precious jewelry. "I'm not an Adeptus."

The boy shook his head, unconvinced. "I apologize, but I must doubt your words. Your presence is not… mortal , I can sense as much."

"What do you mean?" Tomo didn't expect those deductive skills to come from him. Sure, all Kazuhas had been smarter than your average man, but that was another matter entirely.

Wanye smiled, a hint of pride staining his eyes. "I was raised among exorcists," he explained. "But since I lacked the mental strength to tame ghosts and my powers weren't strong enough to purify evil spirits, I had to aim lower. All that remains of it is my sixth sense, and it hardly ever lies."

Tomo blinked, impressed. "I see, so you've seen right through me," he said amusedly. No matter what he did, what name he went by, or what job he had, Kazuha was always amazing and surpassing his brightest expectations.

Wanye flinched. "Are you an evil spirit? Or perhaps a tanuki that's making fun of my loneliness?"

Loneliness. It was so unfair for a gem as rare as Wanye to be burdened by that suffocating feeling. He could mend it, though, if only he'd let him.

Tomo's fingers brushed against the boy's cheek, making him shiver. "Promise you won't faint if I tell you who I am?" he whispered.

"I promise." Despite his tough act, Wanye failed to conceal the underlying fear in his gaze.

That was good enough, Tomo figured. "I'm an Archon," he declared. "The God of Ambition from Inazuma."

Well, Wanye didn't faint . He gaped for a long moment, then jumped to his feet, only to bow down so deeply that his nose scraped against the ground. "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry," he chanted, "I mistook you for a simple Adeptus, my Lord, I'm so…"

"Hey, you're fine," Tomo harshly interrupted his apology, "Stand up. I don't want you to bow down to me." That was a sight sadly too familiar. One he didn't want to see ever again.

When the boy glanced up, Tomo was showing him his real appearance. His hair tips glowing purple, the shining tattoos on his body, the usual moment of reveal. Wanye was astonished, to say the least. Rather than scared, he seemed entranced, eyes sparkling in curiosity. He shyly came closer, running his fingers along the patterns on Tomo's skin, tracing the contour of the tattoos as they moved and glowed.

"It's beautiful," he breathed.

Not as much as you . Tomo kept the thought to himself, watching silently as the boy rubbed his hands all over his arms, to uncover more of the patterns, to find out what a godly body looked like. Tomo's heart beat faster every time they touched, his skin on fire wherever his fingers trailed.

At first, their conversations were mostly centered around gods and the likes. Kazuha had a preposterous amount of questions in store for him, all his enthusiasm met with disinterest. Tomo did not enjoy being an Archon, and Wanye couldn't understand why someone would not .

"What do you do in life, exactly?" Tomo asked, desperate to steer the topic on something that wasn't him and his century-long boredom.

Wanye shrugged casually. "I'm one of the caretakers of the abode belonging to Cloud Retainer, the Perfected Lord who Retains the Clouds by Borrowing the Wind." Tomo flinched at the name. Archons had a long list of titles and the likes, but what even was that . "I mostly clean, to be honest. I swipe the shrine and make sure candles are lit every morning."

That sounded fair enough. Simple, humble yet honorable. Very Kazuha of him.

"We have shrines in Inazuma too," he said. "Both for minor gods and the Archon. We have maidens sweeping the gardens, and sakura petals blooming along the paths."

But his country lacked something vital, and that was its Archon's love. That had been gone for a long time.

Two years passed. During that time, Tomo came to learn many things about Wanye. He was now twenty years old, nearing the prime of his life. He was a curious and hardworking man, and a devoted believer. More than in the Geo Archon, he had faith in destiny and guardian deities watching over the people. Tomo had shaken his certainties, stirring up doubts in his chest.

"Lord Tomo," he asked on a cloudy autumn morning. "Why are you staying with me? You haven't returned to your homeland since we've met."

Tomo knew the moment of confrontation would eventually arrive. But he couldn't care about his duty. Inazuma had yet to give him anything. All he had ever owned was Kazuha, and he had come there to fetch him. His citizens could survive on their own for a while, Liyue being the living proof of it when Adepti were relegated to the role of guardians rather than rulers.

"I want to stay with you," he said, "Is that so wrong?"

His hand reached for Wanye's, brushing against it gently. The boy jolted in surprise, not budging an inch. Inside of him, Tomo could glimpse at the first signs of love blooming. Hints he had missed the previous time, not sure of what they were, but that couldn't escape his more experienced gaze now.

"I'm not saying it's wrong, " Wanye said, his cheeks flushing a pale pink. "But… Why me?"

Tomo could come up with a lie, say it was a coincidence, that he had picked him because he was cute and devoted, and had decided to test his faith. A momentary relief in a long life of nothing. But from what he had learned in a lifetime at Kazuha's side, truth always worked better than pitiful excuses. "Do you believe in reincarnation?"

There was no hesitation in Wanye's voice. "I do," he said.

"Great," Tomo gently coddled his head. "This makes it easier to explain. You appear to be the reincarnation of someone who was very… close to me."

Wanye seemed unsure of his theory. "How can you be sure?"

"You look the same," Tomo said. "And your name is quite similar as well. The fact your family hails from Inazuma contributes to the cause, too."

Wanye went quiet for a long time, eyebrows furrowed as he mulled it over. "So," he said timidly after a while. "You think I'm the reincarnation of your past friend?"

Tomo chuckled. "Of my lover , to be precise."

Wanye's reaction to that was priceless. He choked on his breath, blushing so hard that the tip of his ears turned a bright red. Tomo handed him a gourd of water to soothe his throat, laughing. His first genuine laugh ever since Kazuha had passed.

"I have no recollection of that, naturally," Wanye said once he had calmed down. "But I don't dislike your company, Sir. Perhaps we can stay together a bit more?"

Over time, Tomo forgot the meaning of loss again. They stayed together for many decades— more than he might have expected, fewer than he had hoped for.

Wanye fell in love with him, initially charmed by his godly appearance, but growing fond of his real personality. It was easy to joke around with him, a soul as pure as the river waters. Tomo didn't even know he had been holding himself back, concealing his humor and earnest words, before meeting him.

Their first kiss was under the moonlight, in Liyue Harbor. They had traveled all the way to the capital to watch the fireworks, something Tomo had rarely witnessed outside of Inazuma City. Under the colorful sparks, Tomo had stolen his lips in a tender kiss, taking his eyes off the show.

Wanye was so excited and surprised by the sudden peck that he lost his balance and fell from the small boat, splashing in the cold water of the sea. They had laughed so much that night, and then they had kissed more, and touched each other more in their room at the inn, warming each other up under the bedsheets.

But it hadn't been enough. Despite the love Tomo poured on him, despite the attention he dedicated to him and him only, and the gentleness he handled him with at all times, cherishing him with mind and soul, fate snatched him once more.

An illness took him away before his fortieth birthday, severing his life too quickly. Tomo stayed at his side until the end. He used his powers to heal him, to no avail. He was the Electro Archon, an elemental god blessed with some magic flowing in his veins, and his powers allowed him to treat minor wounds. But unlike the farmer's hands whose calluses he could smooth easily, an illness devouring him from inside was no match for his limited skills.

For some reason, it hurt more than the first time. He thought it would be easier to accept his death, now that he had experienced it twice. Yet it stung more, it burned like fire under his skin, to the point of insanity.

His afternoons passed idly as he stared at the stone on the lakeshore, surrounded by an ocean of orange leaves. The place where they had met, the only view Wanye had known in his short life. He deserved so much more. But that's just how it is— mortal lives are fleeting.

"He's gone," Cloud Retainer said. "But his soul lives on. He shall return someday."

An unfamiliar warmth rolled down his cheeks. Tomo brought a hand to his face, realizing tears were flowing from his eyes. He remembered the night the farmer had wept, crying out in fear for his life. Tomo didn't feel sadness, though, not at all. He felt nothing. The void had returned, deep and merciless. He had no way out of it, not without Kazuha.

"Trust me," he muttered, "I know as much."

"I recognize that look on your face." Yae Guuji walked down the red wooden steps of the Shrine, sakura petals fluttering with every twirl of her dress.

Standing on top of the stone staircase leading down the mountain, Tomo smiled bitterly. "I don't think I'm too hard to read."

The pink-haired woman passed at his side, gently tapping her lacquered nails on his shoulder. "Leave the shrine in my care at least," she said. "Shrine maidens are losing their devotion. Or perhaps, you don't wish to hold your title anymore?"

Something was unsettling in her voice. Tomo couldn't tell when or why she had returned— her presence had already vanished when he was reborn as the Archon. He knew bits of her story, mostly legends and word of mouth. She was the most trusted servant of his predecessor, and her loyal friend.

"I am not sure of that yet," he confessed. "But there's still something I need to do while I have the gift of immortality."

Yae nodded. "I'll be here whenever you need."

Tomo wasn't looking for a servant. He wasn't planning to stay, anyway. He had a mission to fulfill, and only after reaching success would he consider the idea of surrendering. "I'll leave this place in your care, I suppose."

He walked down the first step, reading to depart once again.

"Have you ever considered that things might go wrong?" she said after he had turned his back on her. "That the man you're so desperately seeking might not love you back? Or maybe, that he could find someone else to cherish?"

Tomo clenched his fists. "That's always possible."

"And what would you do if that was the case?"

Why would she ask? The answer was written on his forehead. "I'm a god. I'll greedily snatch him away, no matter what."

Despite his most tragic expectations, Tomo would have never thought things could go that way. That fate might play such a lowly trick on him, hurting him to the point of breaking. The shock he felt afterward was inlaid with a sharp tang of betrayal.

After a long time, his path crossed with Kazuha's again. He should have known how to recognize a red flag upon spotting it, he should have been more aware. Yet, he fell for it like a fool, perhaps taken aback by their first accidental meeting, rather than the result of a hopeless search far and wide.

He had visited all nations of Teyvat in search of him, to no avail. He had combed through capitals and suburbs, not neglecting even the humblest house on the mountainside. He failed to spot any trace, the Kazuha he knew wiped off the face of the planet.

Then, on a rainy day, he came to him. Tomo was roaming the path down Mount Yougou, traveling to Konda Village in his human disguise. He mingled with the pilgrims on their way home from the Grand Narukami Shrine, hands clutching at the crumpled remains of his fortune slip in the pocket of his kimono.

Right at the intersection with the road leading to the capital, someone assaulted him. Brigand attacks weren't a rare occurrence in those lands, and no one was ever safe from surprise ambushes. He couldn't help humans or save them from their peers. Soldiers were deployed for safety all around the country, but they couldn't possibly patrol each corner. And with poverty spreading through the lower classes, thieves had multiplied, pooling at the edge of every street like weeds.

His assaulter was a young man, slender and fast as a cat. He swung his knife at Tomo's face, cutting his skin across the bridge of his nose. A wound of little importance for his divine body, yet the sting of it was real, like the hungry bite of a wild animal.

Tomo took a frustrated glance at him. For some reason, his instinct knew what he was about to see, what loop was beginning anew. The boy's clothes were ragged and his shoes torn, his hair dirty and disheveled, his face stained with raindrops and mud. But there was no doubt. Not even misery could conceal Kazuha's natural beauty.

"It's you," he whispered.

The bandit attacked again, his blade just shy of stabbing his hip. "Hand over the goods," he ordered. His voice was so coarse and angry, unrecognizable to Tomo's ears, used to sweet notes and shy chuckles.

"I have nothing on me," he said. He raised his hands to show he surrendered to him, not willing to cause him any harm. It wasn't a lie— he didn't need to carry a single penny on him. He needed nothing and yearned for nothing. But now that he had found Kazuha, he knew his heart would start simmering and boiling in desire again. 

"Don't give me that crap."

Foul language clashed horribly with Kazuha's soft lips. He had always been so noble and polite, not letting go of his composure even when he lived as a humble farmer. He didn't curse nor utter profanities, sober or drunk, in the ripe of his youth or on the brink of death. That Kazuha was almost scary in his savageness.

What emotion should Tomo be feeling? Maybe sadness, maybe fear. He was only curious, though. His nature of a capricious god had that sort of influence on him, begging him to pry more information from the man, to discover new sides of Kazuha to love and cherish— more sides of Kazuha to miss once he'd be gone.

"You can check, if you wish," he offered.

Kazuha snorted, accepting the invitation. He jumped on him, rudely groping every inch of his clothes in search of any object, until he had assessed that Tomo did, in fact, own nothing.

Their eyes met. He was the same red-eyed Kazuha that he remembered, his irises shining like precious rubies. But something odd trembled in his soul. Dull anger, burning him from inside. Tomo reeled, unable to tell what it was or why it was there. It was a stain on his usually pure soul.

Kazuha jumped back on his feet, ready to dash back to his hiding place. Before he could vanish from his sight, Tomo managed to rub his fingers along the soft skin of his wrist. And even though his grip is effortlessly shattered in a second, his mark was cast on him. Now, he could track every one of his steps.

Alone, Tomo mustered the courage to rummage through his pocket. He smiled as he read the fortune slip, finally accepting what destiny had in store for him. "Great misfortune" , it read. He couldn't believe it. Sometimes, even oracles and prophecies were bound to failure.

After all, what could be more fortunate than finding Kazuha through the ripples of time?

Although he had ceased using it to prank unsuspecting travelers, shapeshifting remained Tomo's greatest skill. He followed the boy around for days, disguised as either a fox or a tanuki. He traced his steps as he met with fellow bandits, stole food, robbed wayward pilgrims.

It was weird to witness that corruption in him. No matter the job, no matter the lineage, there had always been an underlying nobility in Kazuha's reincarnation, an unshakable sense of honor. He was a gentle soul, kind and humble. He wouldn't dream of behaving like that, punching poor priests, fighting for a bite of bread.

Something must have changed in him. And Tomo couldn't avoid fearing that, with the passing of centuries, his condition might only worsen. What would he do if someday Kazuha's soul would reincarnate in the spawn of a demon?

In the month he spent undercover, he gathered the usual information about him. He was just Kazuha, with no surname to remember, an orphan who lived in the slums and fed off stale food, living off robbery alone. He dreamed of becoming a rich man, although he was approaching his twenties, his hopes thinning out with each dawn.

Tomo couldn't resist any longer. He had to see him from up close, to hear his voice and study the changes in his expression as he slowly warmed up to him. It was a rehearsed script that he'd never grow tired of playing in a loop.

He walked up to him one day, as he was ready to ambush the passersby. Kazuha flinched upon seeing him, worried he might have sought him to get revenge for their past encounter. But Tomo simply sat at his side, on the cold tiles of the city street, and acted as if he had always been there.

Kazuha, ever the curious man, hesitated a moment before whispering to him. "What are you doing here?!"

"Do I need a reason?" Tomo glanced at him with a broad smile, hoping to soothe his worries.

Kazuha didn't seem to notice. "Well, yes," he pointed at his clothes. "You clearly don't belong here."

The rich fabric of his clothes clashed harshly with the poverty surrounding them. Some greedy gazes were set on him already, as starving men from every corner licked their lips, foretasting the money they'd make by beating him to a pulp and selling off his belongings. Women waved at him from the brothels, complimenting his fair skin and his silky hair, luring him to pay a visit. Beggars scooted closer, holding out their hats in a silent request for coins.

An awkward chill ran down Tomo's spine. He wished he had the power to prevent this from happening, or that he was strong enough to solve the issues of his citizens and lift their sorrows. But he wasn't the god everyone painted him to be— he could only lend order and false hopes.

Using his magic, he changed his appearance. His clothes turned into worn-out rags, his face sullied with dirt and dry blood. "Now that I belong here, wanna have a chat?"

Kazuha had already left.

Tomo knew the meaning of persistence and was accustomed to imposing his presence on others. It was in the nature of a deity, after all. Humans who rejected their proximity were deemed as sinners and punished in some parts of the world.

He found Kazuha near the riverbank a few weeks later. He was bathing in the calm waters, his clothes abandoned in a messy pile on the shore. He flinched in shame when their eyes met, rushing to get out of there before Tomo saw too much.

The Archon blushed as well upon seeing him naked. It had been a while since the last occurrence, and with all the scratches and sprinkled calluses, it barely looked like his skin at all. The memory of the smooth body of the past iterations of Kazuha he had touched struck him like lightning, and he instantly hid behind a maple tree, begging for his pardon.

"I'm sorry!" he yelled, not daring to look back. "I didn't mean to spy on you."

He peeked as Kazuha crawled out of the water, wearing nothing but his undergarments. "That would be a first," he said.

Tomo was planning to ask him to kindly get dressed and spare a talk, but he had no time to do so, because the boy assaulted him. He climbed the upland and grabbed Tomo by his wrists, catching him by surprise. "Why do you keep following me?!" he asked.

Tomo gulped. He chose to play it smoothly, as he usually did. Some flirt, a little insistence, and that Kazuha would be his as well. They belonged together, after all, fate was powerless before their bond. "What can I say?" he teased. "You shocked me at first sight."

Kazuha snorted and turned around, ready to leave. Tomo clicked his tongue, amused, and pointed at the pile of abandoned clothes. "Are you going to leave those there?"

Kazuha glared at him, but changed his route anyway. He marched to the pile, in a frenzy to escape him, and wore his pants with a hurried jerk. Tomo decided to play a little with him— he turned into a white fox and ran past him, biting into the ragged shirt and dragging it with him in the bushes.

"What the…" Kazuha muttered. Not fully realizing what was happening, he followed Tomo with quick steps, refusing to give up the chase until he had retrieved the shirt from his maw. And then, the realization sank in.

"Just… what the fuck are you exactly?" he bellowed.

Tomo twitched at the foul language, still not used to it. "Do you really want to know?"

Kazuha nodded. Tomo granted his wish, showing him his true form. Like every other Kazuha, that man as well was fascinated with the tattoos crawling over his arms, and his hair tips glowing in the sunset. "Just… What are you?" he repeated.

"I'm your Archon," Tomo stated with pride. "The God of Ambition."

And that was his mistake.

Kazuha attacked him. Sharp, swift, with his lethal blade— where was the knife even hidden? He didn't seem to mind that he was a human facing a god, that his chances of victory were thin as paper. He didn't seem to think at all , guided by sheer rage and instinct.

"What's wrong, Kazuha?!" Tomo managed to blurt out, grabbing him by the wrist where he had left his glowy mark, applying pressure to stop his struggle.

The boy bit him, burying his teeth so deep in his skin and not letting go until a blue, painful bruise appeared on Tomo's arm, slashing through his purple tattoos. "Don't you dare speak my name, you fucker."

Tomo reeled at the insult. Why was he being so aggressive out of the blue? Resorting to violence wasn't his favorite approach, especially against his beloved, the man he pursued for lifetimes in a row. But he saw no other way to appease his fury than using brute strength, taking advantage of his bigger build to bend his arms behind his back until he was unable to put up a fight.

He swiftly snatched the knife from his fingers and threw it as far as the eye could see. Kazuha growled and frothed like a rabid dog, tears flowing down his cheeks for minutes. Once he calmed down, he squirmed out of Tomo's lethal grip, glaring at him with pure rage burning in his eyes.

Panic spread inside Tomo's chest. "Why are you so angry?" he asked. "What did I—"

"I hate you."

That was a first for him. Hate is something he had never experienced. He had learned the meaning of fear, the meaning of love, and the meaning of grief. But hate was a mystery, an indecipherable emotion that his empty heart wouldn't dare to know.

People said it was the opposite of love. So then, why was it bubbling up inside his fated lover's soul? Wasn't only affection supposed to bloom into him?

Kazuha spat on the ground. "I hate all of you," he added. "All of you stupid gods with your almighty powers and shitty pride. It's your fault my parents died."

Tomo had no idea what to say. If someone was to blame for that, it surely wasn't him. He had barely even raised a finger to harm anyone in his Archon wife, and after stepping down from his throne he only meddled with one human— Kazuha. "What happened to them?"

"They were eaten up by the ocean," he said.

They must have been sailors, likely fishermen who drowned in a tempest. Tomo knew such things simply happened, that tragic accidents were a regular occurrence on the sea. Every sailor was trained for that, ready to embrace death in the very moment they boarded.

But although he told Kazuha, the boy refused to believe his words. "It must have been Osial," he said. "Or some other god of the sea."

Tomo had close to no knowledge about Osial. He knew he had been sealed in Liyue, buried below Guyun Stone Forest, for as long as he could remember, and thousands of years before he lived as a human. Kazuha had been told the wrong story— that was the delusion of a lonely child who couldn't come to terms with the miserable death of their parents. Picturing them falling prey to powerful beasts must have made it more bearable and honorable. But there's hardly any honor in death.

"I hate all of you," Kazuha repeated.

Those were his last words from that day.

Tomo was new to such open rejection. Kazuha was not lying when he said he hated him. All of the Archon's words were ignored, his hands shoved away when they ventured too close, his gentle smiles returned with ice-cold stares.

For an entire year, Tomo inflicted torture on himself by following him around. Kazuha drove him crazy with his opposition, making his brain melt in a puddle of confusion and hurt. He offered him gifts of any sort, he sugar coated his sentences to make a better impression, he brought him food and drinks.

Kazuha refused everything that came from him, unless he was on the brink of starvation. But even then, he left as soon as he was done devouring his meal, refusing to thank Tomo or utter a single word of appreciation.

Through the spiritual connection he had established with him, Tomo felt no emotion except for pulsating hate. It was scary. He wasn't used to living in a world where Kazuha was close to his touch, but didn't want to have anything to do with him.

He tried his best to change his mind, he went out of his way, feeling there must be a sliver of hope hiding somewhere in the dark quilt of hate. But no matter what path he took— he couldn't make love bloom inside his heart.

Even higher beings weren't immune to the venom of corruption. He had heard tales of Yakshas and guardians being swayed from the path of holiness to fall into sin, and thus losing all their rights to rule as gods. Although no Archon had faced that destiny yet, Tomo understood the instinct that might have driven them to insanity.

Desperation overcame him, one day. If he couldn't have Kazuha by nice means, then he was going to brute force his way through. Since Kazuha was so sure that Tomo was a tyrant god, despite the kind deeds he kept doing for his sake, then he'd give him what his heart saw— violence and threats.

He ambushed him that night, as Kazuha crawled out of the tavern, having spent whatever saved penny he had on drinks. Alcohol blurred minds, made them mellow and supple, more prone to listen. Tomo had found out by himself— he couldn't forget how the first reincarnation of Kazuha he had met had mustered the strength to confess to him only after knocking back sake.

When Kazuha was within reach, Tomo grabbed his wrist and pulled strongly, making him collapse against his chest. Ignoring his muffled screams, he forced him into a rough kiss, tasting the bitter flavor of his lips. Kazuha rebelled harshly, biting down Tomo's lower lip with all his might and leaving a deep hole, blood dripping down his mouth.

"Stop rejecting me," Tomo ordered in a growl.

He pressed his finger on the purple mark he had left on Kazuha's wrist, and watched as the man flinched in excruciating pain. Although he rarely resorted to such crude methods, he knew his theory. By pressing strongly against the mark, he would send a burning spasm through the human's body, reminding him of who was in command.

A tyrannical power that gods used to rule over humans. Something he had vowed to never use. Yet, Kazuha made him so livid with frustration, that he saw no other way out of his struggle.

Kazuha's protests grew weaker as he squirmed. Tomo pinned him down, shoving him on the ground, a century-long need snapping at once. The man fought back, kicking and biting, and Tomo lowered his head enough to whisper into his ear.

"You don't understand," he hissed. "You're supposed to love me."

Kazuha spat in his eye. Taking advantage of Tomo's confusion, he sneaked away from his grasp, standing on his wobbly feet.

"This is your doing, isn't it?" he pointed at the mark on his wrist. "Watch me get rid of it, you sick bastard."

He cut off his own skin with his trusted knife, severing their bond for good. Tomo failed to believe such a powerful connection could be erased with so little effort. It was a cruel reminder that he wasn't omnipotent— he was a god of the elements and little more.

Kazuha left, vanishing from his sight. Tomo stayed behind, crumbling.

Kazuha fled from the city without leaving a trace. With their connection no longer in place, Tomo had no means to know where he ventured to, and no will to begin a new search. He had messed up irreparably. His first failure, but he feared it wouldn't be the last.

Years passed dully without Kazuha, guilt consuming him from inside. If only he had used gentle manners, choosing persuasion over imposition… He had been so stupid. He was no different from his cruel predecessor. His human self would have challenged him to a duel before the throne as well.

He didn't even know when or how Kazuha died. He heard the rumor in the wind, and felt as if the world suddenly lacked a solid fire. With his spirit torn by regret, he swore he wouldn't let this tragedy happen again.

Next life, it was all or nothing.

Tomo began swaying.

When humans talked about immortality or daydreamed of the afterlife, they imagined gardens blooming with flowers, and heavenly skies. They didn't know the truth, the agony flowing along with the bane of never dying. People were born, grew up, and died in the blink of an eye. What was but a fleeting moment for a god translated into an entire human lifespan.

And Tomo's personal curse was falling in love with one of them. In the years that followed his unfortunate meeting with the last Kazuha, Tomo underwent some changes. He took an odd path, straying from the way of justice.

At first, he returned to his shrine. In a fit of rage that someone might define a tantrum, he decided that if his bond with Kazuha had been corrupted to the point of turning into hate, then it meant everything was over. He would resume his duties, keep Inazuma in check and rule over the good and the bad.

He barely recognized the country. Too many centuries had passed like water under the bridge, and he was no more than an outsider. Barely worshipped by his people, with fervent opposition rising everywhere in favor of minor deities.

He was supposed to be the God of Ambition, yet he couldn't remember what his ambition was. To fight injustice? To chase honor and fairness? None of that made any sense to him anymore.

The shrine maidens were the first ones to raise the problem to him. The new high priestess, right under Yae's direction, was a fiery woman who didn't falter even in front of her Archon. "My Lord, your powers are getting weak," she said. "You should consider stepping down from your position."

"Are you saying I'm not worthy of it anymore?" He glared at her with feigned pride. He knew the answer in his heart: he wasn't. He had never been.

The woman bowed at his feet. "I have the feeling, my Lord," she said. "That you don't want the title either."

Spot-on intuition, much like her master. "I'll consider it."

Tales from the past came back to his mind. The goddess of salt, Havria, who had been killed by her worshippers because she was too frail and kind-hearted to survive a merciless divine war. She carried many of them with her in the eternal cage of death, turning them into salt statues.

Tomo closed his eyes, seeing himself in her shoes. Ambushed and executed by his citizens, bursting in pure thunder as he left his vessel. An absent god who loved a human soul more than his country. He shouldn't have been chosen— he should have died with Kazuha in his arms and leave it at that. The burden of eternity was a prison more than death itself.

As if summoned by his grief, the God of Freedom paid him a visit. A fellow absentee who could perhaps relate to his torment.

"When you wake up from slumber," Tomo asked. "Don't you feel like you've been wasting your powers?"

Barbatos took a generous sip of wine. "I often think the people of Mondstadt deserve better than what I can offer them," he said. "But after all, I am the God of Freedom. I won't stop anyone from stripping me of my position if they deem it liberating."

"Is that possible? Is there a peaceful way to resign from the title of Archon?" Tomo was intrigued. He wondered if his spirit hadn't perhaps beckoned Barbatos to come only to receive the answers he silently begged for.

"You can give up your Gnosis," Barbatos explained. "Although it's best to make sure it doesn't fall into the wrong hands," he winked as if everything was clear.

Tomo didn't inquire further, but he was unsure what step to take. Should he give his Gnosis to the high priestess? To Yae? Should he host some sort of tournament to find his successor? Should he rip his heart out of his chest and offer it to the gods above, in hopes they'd hear his plea?

For now, he did what he was most skilled at— he let the matter slide to the sidelines, postponing it for the future.

"I've caught sight of your human," Yae said.

Tomo glared at her. He realized a while after their first conversation that he hadn't been the one to open up his century-long anguish, meaning she had mysterious sources of information. The thought she held so much power scared him. "And what of it?"

Yae smirked, cunning as ever. "I thought you might want to know his whereabouts."

He couldn't forget how many centuries she had spent at his predecessor's side. Was she truly impartial? It was hard for him to trust her with secrets. He couldn't shake off the feeling that her arrival marked the approaching end of his reign. "Tell me, if you wish so."

"Oh, you want to act stubborn?" she chuckled. "Then, let's make a deal."

"A deal with a kitsune? I might be stupid, but not to this extent."

Yae's pink nails tapped on his shoulder. "You don't have to see it this way. I'd call it… a pact between two friends."

"Since when are we—"

"I'm glad you agreed to listen." Her boldness knew no boundaries. Tomo was far too exhausted to fight back, though. Any promise he could make to her wouldn't be worse than the hell he lived in. "I have been watching over your actions for a couple of centuries, and I can't deny that your time as an Archon feels close to being over. The citizens are angry at you, half of the land is cursed, and the air smells like rebellion."

Nothing that Tomo didn't know. "So, what's your suggestion?"

"Let's say… If you find your human and manage to get your happily-ever-after with him, you'll give your Gnosis to me. You get to grow old with him, and then you'll be free." She walked in circles around him as she spoke, her dress dancing on the ground. "On the other hand, if you fail, I promise I will appease the people's anger and quench their bloodthirst."

Tomo furrowed. "It sounds too convenient for me. What's in it for you?"

"Oh, trust me," Yae eerily grinned. "There's always something in it for me."

He had nothing to object to either option. If he won Kazuha's love, he'd find his happiness and then forsake the world with a smile on his lips. If he didn't, he'd get the chance to try again. But whatever her plan was, he didn't care. He was plotting his great escape, anyway.

"So, where is he?"

Yae laughed under her breath. "Delighted to do business with you," she said. "Yashiori Island, at the core of the curse. I'd hurry if I were you."

The curse was way worse than he could recall from the days he first roamed the country, after being reborn. Thick miasma enveloped the land, making it hard to breathe in. Villages were in shambles and deserted, graves and dendrobium flowers sprinkled the island from cliff to mountaintop. If someone told him that he was in the underworld, he wouldn't hesitate to believe it.

Kazuha was one of the few remaining souls in Higi Village. Among burnt grass and ruined shrines, he lit up the candles in front of an altar and prayed in silence, every morning before dawn and every evening at dusk. A vague reminiscence of his life in Liyue, yet not quite as noble.

Tomo had lost any patience for formalities. After bearing the burden of being hated, he couldn't stand to wait idly as time passed. He yearned for a swift dive, to take what life had to shove at his face and run with it.

He appeared in front of Kazuha in his human disguise. The man flinched at the sight, his eyes widening in shock. A candle fell from his hands, dropping sadly onto the grass. "You shouldn't be here."

Tomo took a determined step forward. "I've come to—"

"Quick, come inside before he sees you."

Without giving him time to react, Kazuha grabbed Tomo by his wrist and dragged him to his house. The Archon gulped at the touch, remembering how it felt to be embraced by that warmth, rather than coldness.

The building was falling apart, the roof ran through with holes. Buckets were lined up on the floor to catch the pouring rain, spreading a humid smell in the room. Kazuha welcomed him as if he was entering a noble mansion, and rushed to slam all curtains closed until the room was shrouded in darkness.

"I apologize for the rude introduction," he said as he lit up a candle. " He 's always on the lookout for strangers."

Tomo wrinkled his nose. "Who is he ?"

Kazuha smiled bitterly. He took a deep breath before answering his question. He laid the candle on the table, then stumbled his way to the kitchen, where he set up some water to boil. "Washizu," he said. "The village chief."

Tomo failed to see what kind of chief was needed in a place like that. The village had barely three inhabitants, if he counted correctly. And he hadn't seen any man around, despite watching over Kazuha for a couple of days. "What's up with him?"

"I don't mean to startle you, but it's best if you leave immediately." Although Kazuha's voice reeked of determination, his fingers trembled as he poured leaves in the water. The pleasant aroma of green tea filled Tomo's lungs. "Washizu is… dangerous. He's going to lure you to the shrine and convince you to pray."

Though he didn't want to expose his identity just yet, Tomo couldn't help but giggle at that. "Trust me, my faith is quite… unshakable."

"I'm glad." Kazuha watched as the water simmered and changed color, the dark amber of the infusion reflected in his red eyes. Tomo stared, as he typically did whenever he was near him. "He has other means to attract wanderers. He uses treasure and riches, before guiding you to your demise."

Tomo suddenly recalls rumors about that. The curse of the Tatarigami, slain by the former Archon, and the leftover poison that drove people crazy. No one ever did anything to solve the issue after the wards had been broken, and Yashiori Island was soon considered no man's land.

"So, the man's committing sacrifices or something?" he asked.

Kazuha bit his lower lip. "Yes," he said. "A new victim whenever the weather is unstable. The storm comes and, if it rages on for too long, he believes Orobashi no Mikoto must be enraged. So, he takes a life."

"Is that why the village is full of graves?" Tomo wondered whose tomb Kazuha was praying at. Perhaps his parents, perhaps his wife. "Did he sacrifice them all?"

Kazuha nodded. He was full of regrets and fear, Tomo could see how broken his soul was. Would he be able to mend him? He wasn't good at repairing things. He was more of a ruiner rather than a fixer. "I'm the only one left here."

"You should leave," Tomo suggested on a whim. "Before something happens to you."

Kazuha shook his head, and Tomo's heart was shaken along with it. "I won't," he declared. "I'm tired. I saw everyone die. I watched as my lover got stabbed upon the altar. I lost my parents, and my friends went mad and left. I'm fine with death."

"But how would your death solve anything?"

Kazuha laughed. "Oh, I don't want to solve a thing. I merely wish to be free from the pain."

Tomo wouldn't let that happen. His Kazuha was brimming with ambition and a strong, stubborn will to live. That wasn't the fate he deserved.

He ran his fingers over Kazuha's knuckles, sweetly. "Listen, this might sound bold coming from someone you've just met. But… Do you want to escape with me?"

"Excuse me?!" Kazuha blinked in fair confusion.

Tomo revealed his true form at that moment. His tattoos glowed in the dark, thunder crackled in his eyes, and all the rest. "I can take you to safety," he promised. "I'm the Electro Archon. I can shield you from any crazy man coming your way."

Kazuha reeled, flipping over the teapot in the process. Boiling water pooled on the floor, forming a dangerous stream between their feet. Neither of them budged, too absorbed in the conversation.

"I…" Kazuha gulped. "I apologize, but I'd prefer not to meddle with gods at all."

"Kazuha—"

"I don't know why you know my name," he interrupted. "Even if I assume it comes with godhood. But I think it's best not to enrage the Tatarigami further. I'll let Washizu sacrifice me, and—"

"It won't work," Tomo chose to spit out the truth in the form of venom. "There's no god to appease. The storm doesn't depend on His will whatsoever. Washizu is hearing things."

Kazuha seemed to consider it. Tomo could see the thoughts forming in his head and flashing over his face, sparkling in his eyes before they vanished. "I thank you from the bottom of my heart," he said. "But this is the fate I chose for myself."

Tomo kept watch. Washizu had completely lost his mind, the fog stripping him of any hint of sanity. He frantically prayed to the shrine, with maniacal precision, three times every day. He knelt at the side for the rest of the night, as the ominous orbs from the god shone above his bent head.

He stopped passersby, beckoning them with treasure and gold. They would believe his words, they would come again to claim more money, more jewels, more blades. And then, on the fourth day, Washizu would stab them through their stomach, offering their flesh to Orobaxi.

Tomo had seen this same pattern before. It was typical of the human brain to shatter in front of desperation, not even gods were immune to it. He wished the wiser Archons could help him find a solution— but there was none in sight. He could kill the man himself, but he doubted Kazuha would be proud of him. He would only spill more useless blood.

Every night, Tomo crawled inside Kazuha's house and sat at the table. The man didn't push him away, relishing the silent company. Tomo tried to fill the gaps in their conversations with tales from his past, or folklore he had learned in his travels. Kazuha listened patiently, laughed in between jokes, and teared up at the moving parts.

He had no more than a week left to live, or maybe two. It all depended on the upcoming storm, on how long it would hammer the island for.

The illness wasn't a rumor, nor something destined to Washizu only. Kazuha began hearing voices as well. He struggled sleeping when the winds howled louder. Tomo sneaked in his bed at those times and offered him warmth. Kazuha snuggled in his arms, accepting his support. Finding comfort in his presence.

In his exploration trips, Tomo found scattered notes left by a doctor. Naoko-sensei recommended a specific therapy, and he diligently followed each step. He brought Kazuha Naku weeds in bunches, to soothe his pain. It was a placebo, but he couldn't refuse to help relieve the pain at least.

"Thank you," Kazuha said one day. "I didn't expect the Archon to be so kind. I've heard… rumors."

Tomo smirked bitterly, guilty as charged. "I didn't do my part for these past centuries," he admitted. "But I want to save you if I can."

"Thanks for staying by my side even though I chose to die." Tears pooled in the corner of his eyes as he spoke, but he stubbornly wiped them away, refusing to let them pour down his cheeks. "It means a lot to have some company before I go."

Tomo definitely wouldn't let him go.

When the moment arrived, Kazuha was ready. He prayed thrice at the shrine, kindling candles and incense in front of the altar. Then, under Washizu's silent stare, he lay against the cold stone, his eyes looking up to the sky. It was a stormy day, the wind blowing so harshly that it cut through the sleeves of his kimono.

Washizu raised his blade, hovering it over Kazuha's stomach. O ye who accommodates all things…" he chanted. "Accept me... consume me... save me…"

Kazuha's eyelids fluttered closed. The sword descended upon him, and blood splashed over his face, soaking his hair and clothes. But it wasn't his .

Washizu was bent on his knees, a wound crossing his stomach. Thunder crackled around the edge, glowing purple under the moonlight. He wasn't dead, but it would take him some time to recover. The storm didn't cease raging.

"Did you seriously think I'd sit back and watch as you died?"

Tomo chose that moment to speak. He sheathed his sword, looking down on the madman at his feet. He took extra steps to make sure his swing wouldn't kill him, because he knew Kazuha wouldn't be pleased by another vain death.

"Why are you here?" Kazuha yelped, unsteadily sitting on the altar. "I told you I chose this fate for myself."

Tomo grabbed him by his arm, forcing him to his feet. "Yeah, you did," he said. "And I chose not to listen."

Without leaving any room for him to react, Tomo lifted him on his shoulder. Then, without glancing back at the samurai he had wounded, he dashed away in the dead of night, wrapping his arms around his damsel in distress as he took him to safety.

Finally letting go of his stubborn act, Kazuha broke into a silent cry. His tears flowed freely down his face, dampening the hem of Tomo's clothes. It didn't matter— he could let it all out. He was safe in his embrace, now.

They reached Narukami Island, setting as many miles between them and the cursed island as they could. Tomo led him by the hand through Chinju Forest, watching merrily as Kazuha gaped at every corner. The glowing plants, the dim light, the songs of tanuki in the distance… It was all unknown to him.

"Look, the pond is shining!"

Kazuha pointed at the small lake as if it was the most beautiful thing he had ever laid eyes upon. Tomo chuckled while he reached him, considering in his mind that, if he was the one to pick, he'd always consider Kazuha the most beautiful thing in the world.

"Do you wanna go for a swim?" he asked.

Kazuha shook his head, amused. "Oh, no," he said. "I can't swim. But I want to feel it." He took off his ragged shoes and dipped his feet in the fresh waters of the pond, among shining flowers and buds.

Tomo reached him swiftly, hurrying to his side as he stepped into the enchanted lake. He wrapped him in a hug, expecting him to squirm under his touch and run away in fear. The memory of Kazuha ripping off the mark from his skin with the blade of his knife still haunted him, as well as the terror in his eyes.

But it didn't happen that time. Kazuha hugged him back, affectionately plunging his head in the crook of Tomo's neck. "Is this the taste of freedom?" he asked, his voice dreamy.

"Perhaps," was all Tomo replied. "Wanna find out for yourself?"

He kissed him. And as their lips melted together, relief assaulted Tomo's heart. He didn't know why or thanks to who, but he had managed to fix his past mistakes. He had mended something for once, he fixed the corrupted bond tying them together— he twisted Kazuha's mistrust into love. He felt powerful and immortal as never before.

But distance wasn't a magical elixir. It couldn't heal all wounds nor dissipate all curses. Tomo learned that lesson the hard way, as he watched Kazuha crumble with each passing dusk. The curse of the serpent god knew no boundaries, and it firmly clung onto the man, devouring him from inside.

It started with voices. He hallucinated, halting his step in the middle of the street as they strolled through the countryside. He woke up at night drenched in sweat, screaming at the top of his lungs. Tomo jolted at the sudden noise, and rushed to cuddle him back to sleep, his soul shaken.

Then came the digging. Kazuha mercilessly shot his arrows at birds in the woods, before furiously carving a hole in the soil to bury them. "Three times," he repeated. "Three times."

Watching his downfall was almost more painful than seeing him die on that altar. Tomo didn't believe he could ever conceive such a disgusting thought, yet sometimes he regretted saving his life. Because he hadn't been saved. He had been shoved in a spiral of building agony.

He was different from Washizu, though. The disease was moderate in him, not quite as haunting, like a scratch at the back of his head. But Kazuha's mind wasn't divine— it deteriorated quickly and relentlessly, leaving Tomo powerless and limp.

Eventually, he snapped. Kazuha pointed a knife at his throat, threatening to take his life. "If I sacrifice a god," he growled, his voice so distorted it was barely recognizable, "Orobashi no Mikoto won't reject me anymore."

Tomo realized on that day that he had lost him. Still, he had no choice but to struggle onwards, like he always did. Whenever Kazuha had a moment of meltdown, Tomo hit the scruff of his neck until he'd faint, ready to return to normal once he'd woken up again.

He didn't tell him about his drunken deeds. He allowed him to forget about it, he pretended everything was alright. Tomo loved him far too much to accept another defeat— he was clinging to him like a desperate fool.

But even delusional dreams meet their demise. One night, Tomo left to pick some berries and collect his thoughts. When he returned to camp, Kazuha was gone. His sword and clothes were abandoned on the shore, with a handwritten letter hidden under the fabric.

"This is the fate I've chosen for myself ."

Kazuha had thrown himself in the roaring waves of the ocean.

There was no way out. The pure sorrow that engulfed his soul every time he was forced to see Kazuha die was overwhelming— he wasn't going to put up with that anymore. What once was a nagging doubt and a tickling idea now consolidated into a firm decision.

He stormed inside the Grand Narukami Shrine, leaving sparks on his passage. Rebellion against the Archon has begun. The country was ravaged by war and banditry, and the god was too busy dilly-dallying around and pining for a mortal to care about it.

The timing seemed perfect. Tomo craved nothing more than being freed from his role, stripped of his powers, and shoved back in the cycle of reincarnation. Maybe if he rejoins the other souls in the perpetual flow, he will eventually meet Kazuha. Appropriately, though, in a universe where they'd be able to grow old together and he wouldn't be as miserable.

And if they didn't— well, he was too shattered to care.

Tomo crawled up his way to the Sacred Sakura, as furious citizens swarmed up the stone staircase leading to the shrine. Yae was there, in her usual spot, twirling her hand in the air as if she expected his arrival.

"Here you are," she chirped. "As promised, I will appease the fury of your people."

Tomo halted, his feet cracking the ground under his rage. "No, screw that, Guuji. I'm tired. Please relieve me of this burden, I—"

"There is no turning back," Yae spoke coldly, without falter. Almost as if she had rehearsed that script a million times. Almost as if all of that was part of her bigger scheme. "If you die as a mortal now, you might never meet Kaedehara Kazuha again."

"I'm ready to shoulder the risk. I'm at my limit— I shatter every time I see him die."

Yae turned to face him, a cunning grin on her lips. "Do you believe this is worse than eternal separation?"

"I prefer to be apart if this is how it has to be every time."

Footsteps rapidly approached, carrying the piled-up fury of a starved nation. The moment of truth was coming, Tomo could feel his ankles trembling at the thought. He didn't think it through— he barely considered anything that wasn't Kazuha, despite the number of centuries at his disposal. Soon, he would be a mortal. A frail, bendable human, ready to be killed by his own worshippers.

"Give up your Gnosis, then." Yae stretched out her hand, inviting.

Tomo knew how to do it. His instinct spoke to him and guided his steps as he removed the Gnosis from his body, feeling the power flow out of his limbs. The purple chess piece shone in his palm, reeking electricity in its purple glow. That was the essence of a god— the cause of his bruising pain.

Soldiers and armed farmers swarmed in. Normally, Yae would stop them where they are, screaming that dishonoring a shrine with weapons was punishable with death. But that time, she smiled and let them do as they pleased, her nails tapping against the surface of the Gnosis.

Her stare stayed still on Tomo as his body was ripped apart. Spears and swords cut through his stomach and chest, pain assaulting him like an earthquake. Blood dripped from every wound and hole, and Tomo fell to his knees.

He closed his eyes, letting life go. Had he died a minute earlier, he would have exploded into thunder. He was glad it didn't happen, so he could pass on as a simple human, bleeding to death on the cold ground of the shrine, rather than harming his worshippers further.

As his heart ceased beating, he saw memories of every Kazuha he had met. His face flashed before him, his happy smile and his flushed cheeks. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Tomo cried.

"Are you done throwing up?" Thoma asked with an annoyed grimace. "You'll make everyone else sick too."

Tomo groaned, sending him a death glare. He remembered being seasick ever since he was a toddler, and his grandfather didn't help his cause. A sailor at heart, he enjoyed dragging him in agonizing boat trips while he fished for their dinner. "It's not like I can help it, y'know."

"Next time, maybe try not to eat like a pig," Yoimiya mocked him. Before he could protest in any way, she screamed aloud, waving at the horizon. "But would you look at that! Land ahoy! We're here!"

Tomo finished emptying his stomach in the ocean waves, thanking the gods for letting him survive the hellish trip. He picked up his belongings and hurried to follow the others, about to descend at the port.

His tummy rumbled on the way. "Now I'm hungry," he said.

Thoma shoved him down the gangway.

"Thank you," the burly worker at the harbor politely bowed before them. "With these, the Lantern Rite will be a success for yet another year. Although it's rare for you to come to deliver the fireworks yourself, miss Yoimiya."

Yoimiya hummed in approval. "I know!" she chirped. "Sometimes you just need a, huh, change of air! Haha. A breath of fresh oxygen, and all that, you know how it is."

Tomo shuddered. The entire trip was his fault. He was the sole reason they had dropped their business in Inazuma City and ventured in a group to Liyue Harbor— they did it to give him some fun.

Although it bruised his pride to admit it, he had messed up pretty badly. He had accepted a commission from the Adventurers' Guild and failed it, causing more harm than good. He was now jobless and lonely, with no place to go or anything to do.

Thoma and the other brought him there to get his mind off the misdeed, otherwise, he would still have been rotting in the guestroom of Komore Teahouse. Taroumaru was very close to asking him for rent, seeing the preposterous amount of hours he spent among those walls.

Of course, they didn't go on vacation. The deal was that they'd actively help the citizens in organizing the festival. Which translated, in a much simpler language, into pure muscle work. They had to carry boxes from one end of the wharf to the other, carrying all sorts of goods and materials, until the sun would set and their limbs could get their deserved rest.

Thoma and Tomo cast their friendly banter aside to focus on the job, their arms screaming for mercy barely one hour in. Tama curled in Tomo's haori, enjoying the comfort of the fabric while he sweated and toiled away. Sometimes, he really wished he could be reborn as a cat in his next life.

"Gods, this is taking ages." Yoimiya's voice came from the bamboo table where she sat with Ayaka, lazily sipping on her drink. Miss Kamisato waved at them as they turned, embarrassed by the other girl's unfortunate remark.

Tomo pointed a finger at her. "Maybe it would be faster if someone lent us a hand."

"And let Miss Kamisato sully her delicate hands with labor ?" she emphatically fanned herself with a pamphlet, feigning offense. "You're dreaming, Tomo."

Thoma held back a chuckle at that, while Tomo darted pure rage from his eyes. "Well, you seem to be free. And your hands don't look that delicate."

There he went, aiming for the weak spot. Yoimiya was a little self-conscious when it concerned her burnt fingers and calloused hands coming from the days of work on fireworks. "Do I have to come and punch you?"

"Alright, quit it already!" Thoma stepped in, preventing the bickering from turning into full-fledged fisticuffs in the middle of a working crowd. "I thought the job was easy enough for you to handle alone."

So, he chose to throw the matter in the perspective of a challenge. Well, now Tomo couldn't back down— he had his honor to defend. And it had been chipped enough by the recent events to let it be harmed further.

Tama rolled out of his haori and jumped off, in search of food. Tomo returned to his occupation, moving boxes around in wait for his next meal.

Although it was his first time visiting Wanmin Restaurant, Tomo was sure he'd carry the memory fondly in his heart forever. The place was wonderful, with lively waiters and customers, and the delicious smell of fish and spice coating the air all around. 

The only problem he might have with it was the prices, but Miss Kamisato offered to pay for all of them in exchange for their efforts.

"See?" Tomo didn't miss the chance to poke fun at Yoimiya. "Ayaka couldn't help with work, but she helped with her wallet. When's your turn to be useful?"

Yoimiya punched him on the arm from across the table. "Hey! I'm the reason you're here, you ungrateful stud."

"Chill for a moment, would you?" Thoma rolled his eyes at the two of them, with the air of a frustrated mother. Bickering faded into laughter as they dove their noses back into the food, partying the evening away.

Despite their banter, not a day went by without Tomo being thankful for having them by his side. He had been blessed with a close-knit group, even though they couldn't be more different— the noble heiress of an influential clan, her attendant and well-known problem solver, and the girl who was famous throughout the nation for her quality fireworks. Then, there was him. A nobody, bringing nothing but raw humor and passion to the group.

Tomo had a secret. Sometimes, he had visions from a distant world, something that seemed to be a past life or something equally as weird. A white-haired man smiled at him, and Tomo felt enormous power crackling through his veins. He was a god, he figured, or another kind of deity.

He enjoyed telling that tale around, whether to entertain children or to give himself a cool aura in front of friends. But he couldn't be honest and spill the whole truth. He couldn't say that beneath the power and grandness he felt devouring loneliness. A bone-chilling terror of abandonment that made him drown until he'd wake up drenched in sweat, or he'd snap out of his daydreams.

No matter if that godly Tomo was real or merely the fruit of his fantasy: he was grateful he wasn't alone in that present. Even if… he couldn't help but taste a hole in the center of his chest.

Something was amiss, though he couldn't say what.

The crowd gathered at the corners of Heyu Tea House cheered loudly, and Tomo gladly yelled along with the drunk people. He slammed his empty cup against the table, loudly moaning out his appreciation for the drink. He was surprised to find such quality sake abroad, so far from home.

At his side, Thoma fidgeted with the collar of his top, shifting in discomfort. "Isn't this place a little crowded?"

"I mean, it's a terrace with storytellers. Why wouldn't it be?"

Ayaka covered her mouth with her fan. "No, he has a point. When we came here on business trips, it wasn't as crowded."

Tomo decided to drink less and listen more— something he rarely found himself doing, as of late. The reason for the throng became obvious rather quickly. The Feiyun Commerce Guild had organized a poetry contest in cooperation with the Kaedehara Publishing Industry in Inazuma, and the results were about to be announced. The chosen spokesperson was none other than the heir himself, a famous author from overseas.

The name rang a bell. But then again, many clans have similar names in Inazuma, so he couldn't be sure. And aside from the monopoly of Yae Publishing House, he didn't care enough about novels and the editorial world to possibly know who that family was.

A young man with white hair stood on the stage, walking past Liu Siu. He didn't seem nervous despite the noisy cheers ringing in his ears, if only a bit compressed inside his tight shirt, buttoned up all the way to his neck.

"The winner of our first contest is Mr. Zhenyu," he declared unceremoniously. Loud whispers rose from the crowd, and Tomo struggled not to burst out into laughter. That was by far the worst announcement he had ever heard in his life, so dull and without a build-up.

Liu Siu, much more versed in the arts of entertaining crowds, came to his help. "Master Kaedehara will now recite the winning poem for your enjoyment."

The younger man cleared his throat with a polite cough. And then, he began weaving verses out loud. He changed completely, turning from a clumsy boy to a real poet, mysterious and deep.

Tomo's heart skipped a beat upon hearing his voice, rolling soft and delicate over his skin, sneaking into his veins. Familiar . The white-haired man of his dreams smiled at him through a mirage— he was just drunk, he figured.

His breath turned unsteady and shallow. Poetry rippled the air around him, it echoed in the sudden silence of the terrace. Everyone was charmed like he was, lured in by the spell of his smooth voice, and no one dared to interrupt the magic.

Once it was over, the crowd hesitated a good while before clapping, whistling, and screaming their approval. The Kaedehara heir bowed and turned around, fleeing from the scene to hide backstage.

"What the hell, Tomo?!" he vaguely picked up Thoma's shriek. "You're crying?"

Yoimiya gasped emphatically. "Over poetry?" she yelped. "Oh, gods, who are you, and where's the real Tomo?"

That wasn't the point. It wasn't the words (he barely caught any) and it wasn't the meaning (he was too dumb to read between the lines). It was his voice. The appearance and the tone and the demeanor.

"I think… I've found the missing piece."

He couldn't explain what it was. Maybe it was only him being silly and freaking out over a pleasant voice, or maybe it was the poem that woke up hidden feelings inside his chest. But regardless of the reason, he wanted— he needed to know that man's name. To talk to him. To hear his soothing voice aimed at him and him only.

So, he did the only rational thing he could do: he ditched his friends in the middle of their party to chase after him, catching a glimpse of his profile as he left the tea house after the announcement.

It would be rude to approach a stranger without a driving motive, so his mind scrambled to find one. He snatched a silk flower from a nearby vase, the dew soaking his fingers, and ran after him.

"Excuse me!" he yelled.

The man walked quickly, despite his short legs. He ignored him, and the mere thought sent waves of irrational anger to Tomo's brain. Yeah, after all, why would someone scream at him? Not like he was the heir of a famous family whatsoever.

"K-Kaedehara-san? Kaedehara Xiansheng?"

Halfway through his search for the appropriate honorific, it occurred to him that the guy hailed from his nation, so he technically didn't need to boil his brain over Liyue formalities.

Powering through the pain of being ignored, Tomo followed him down the staircase, and then trailed his steps even through the streets. He refused to let go without being given a chance to talk. No matter how much he'd have to run, no matter if he'd get lost and end up sleeping on the wharf, unable to find his friends.

He was so absorbed in his stubbornness, so busy sending mental threats and omens to the young man, that he forgot to pay attention to his surroundings. He slipped on a puddle and lost his balance, falling on his back. His leg sank in the gulley at the edges of the road, pants soaked in muddy water.

The Kaedehara heir dropped his act. He chuckled at that, and finally turned around to face him. Yes, now that Tomo had literally ruined his clothes and smashed his pride for him, he was morally obligated to address him.

He walked up to him, offering his hand for him to get up. "I apologize for ignoring you," he said. "I don't trust strangers habitually."

Once again, Tomo lost his train of thoughts, charmed by his pretty voice. And not just that, to be honest; he was beautiful. His hair was silky, his smile was kind. Only his eyes were unfazed, as if every expression showcased on his face was nothing but a mask he put on for the world to see.

And he likely wasn't far off from the truth. He had a close example of the formalities surrounding wealthy families. Ayaka had been a dear friend for years, yet he couldn't recall seeing her angry, nor hearing her curse.

Tomo drew the flower out of his pocket and shoved it into his face. "You dropped this."

It hit him at that moment how idiotic he must look. Half undressed after the long run, with his leg drenched in mud, and wielding a trampled flower in his hand while spurting nonsense.

Alright, he thought, it was done: he had made a fool of himself. But much to his surprise, the other man laughed instead. His mask cracked, and Tomo remembered his odd dreams once more.

"I think this is by far the worst attempt at flirting I've ever heard," he said, wiping a stray tear from his eye.

Tomo seized his hand and stood up. He swatted dust off his clothes, praying that they would dry fast so the cold of the night wouldn't bite at his skin, although his face was rather on fire.

"Okay, but did it work?" he asked. He wasn't the type of person to back off from a provocation.

Kazuha flinched at his boldness. "I'm not sure," he said. "But I'll be holding onto this for the moment." He slid the flower out of Tomo's grip, their hands fleetingly brushing together.

Tomo's heartbeats jumped to his fingers, as he gulped. He hadn't gotten a crush on someone for so long that he had almost forgotten what it felt like. But for some reason, it was new— he wasn't nervous. He felt hopeful , as if his soul knew it was the right one, that he wouldn't run away like everyone else had done when faced with his previous confessions.

"So…" Kazuha urged him, awkwardly twirling the stem of the flower between his fingers. "Is there anything else you were planning to say to me?"

Tomo was at a loss for words. He doubted there would be any decorous way to explain that no, in fact, he wanted to listen to his voice and little more. "I, huh, no," he stuttered. "But I suppose it won't hurt to ask for your name."

"Although it would be most polite if you addressed me by my last name," Kazuha said, "It won't hurt to tell you. It's Kazuha."

"I'm Tomo. Nice to meet you."

They shook hands. In a sudden flashback, Tomo remembered the sensation of his small palm wrapped around his, as if he had done that before. Pleasant and warm memories mingled with sharper ones, the feeling of squeezing that same hand tightly with the intention to hurt. He shook his head, driving those thoughts away.

"Believe it or not, I believe I've seen you in my dreams before." Tomo regretted blurting out that line as soon as it escaped his lips. But he had learned a valuable life lesson— you cannot unsay things.

Kazuha chuckled again, the gentle sound of his laugh sending shivers down Tomo's spine. "Hey, aren't you taking the joke a little too far? If you want to flirt with me so badly, shouldn't you invite me for dinner first?"

"Then let's." Tomo couldn't remember acting so shamelessly before. It must have been the aftereffect of his hallucinations; and perhaps, the alcohol he had gobbled played a part in the matter as well.

Kazuha's eyes glowed in surprise, and Tomo could read a clear "no" flashing all over his face. But then, either taken aback by Tomo's lack of modesty or curious to see how far things could go, he accepted the invite.

Tomo's stomach always had room for a second dinner.

Thankfully for his stomach, though, food wasn't contemplated. Kazuha settled for drinks in Liuli Pavilion, one of the prestigious buildings that Tomo had been staring at from afar, never thinking he'd get the chance to step inside and try their expensive cuisine.

Tomo stared helplessly at the ornate glass resting on the table. "I don't think I have enough money for…"

"Ah, do not fret," Kazuha waved his hand in the air as if shooing away his words. "It's on me for tonight."

Tomo scratched his head. He shifted on the chair, uncomfortable. He didn't fancy being offered things, especially if the gift was impossible for him to repay, moreover coming from a stranger (though, a stranger with a pretty voice indeed). "So, how do I pay you back?"

Kazuha crossed his legs. "Entertaining me, perhaps?"

Well, that was something Tomo was horrible at. If by entertainment he meant he had to make a fool of himself, then they'd be alright— but he suspected that wasn't what Kazuha had in mind.

"So, huh… You're from Inazuma too?" Small talk, his nemesis.

Kazuha took a sip of his drink, sipping from a straw like a spoiled child. "Indeed," he said, peering at him from his glass. "The Kaedehara Publishing House has its headquarters in Ritou, although most of the business comes from the branch office in the capital."

"Ritou… Nice scenery, pretty maple leaves." Tomo felt the remaining slivers of his dignity shattering after that extremely poor statement. As much as he thought about it, he didn't recall many details about the island. Red leaves everywhere and boats that made him seasick, while his grandfather forced him to board on his fishing boat for a trip.

Kazuha nodded meekly. He seemed bored, as if talking about his family's business wasn't his favorite topic. Tomo guessed that was the subject most of his interlocutors asked him about.

In truth, his discomfort sat perfectly with Tomo, who cared close to nothing about books and the likes. One less worry to add to his plate. "Do you live in Liyue now?"

"Not really. In pure theory, I live in Inazuma City. If I have to tell you the truth, though, I'm busy traveling for promotional purposes most of the time."

Tomo tasted his drink. It was sour, quite the shock for his taste buds. He cherry-picked the sweetest sake for his nights of fun, and his tongue didn't appreciate the sudden change in flavor. He'd never dare to reject a present from the Kaedehara heir, though. So, he silently drank through the tears.

"So, you don't go home often."

Kazuha shook his head. His glance drifted to the window, where their reflections greeted back at him, surrounded by the cozy glow of the lamps and streetlights. "I haven't been there for a year. How are things there? I haven't gotten the chance to talk to any Inazuman in a while."

Tomo's chest winced in pain upon realizing that might have been the sole reason he had accepted his invite. Thoma always told him his accent was thick, after all, and that there was no mistaking his origins. His crush almost made him forget their differences for a moment.

"There isn't much to say. The Archon is doing her fine job, there's a lot of kids at every corner, and the funniest new activity is tearing down shrines of the previous god."

Kazuha furrowed. "And why is that?"

"Hell if I know," Tomo casually said, shrugging his confusion away. "Seems he wasn't liked. And since the current Archon doesn't care, she lets it slide."

"That sounds horrible," Kazuha finished his drink, his cheeks flushing a pale pink from the alcohol. "I don't know much about the previous Electro Archon, but I'm positive he was a cool guy."

An unknown warmth spread inside Tomo's chest, as if the compliment had been directed at him and not at some mysterious divine man from the distant past. "Well, from what I know he was killed by his followers, so I wouldn't bet on that."

Kazuha chuckled. "Sometimes, people do crazy things for irrational reasons."

"Yeah, I've heard something about that."

Tomo's throat ran dry, his gaze naturally gravitating towards Kazuha. The drinks had helped him loosen up his composure, his eyes wet and hazy, his ponytail undone. Life must be boring when you can't afford to let go, jumping from meeting to meeting.

Kazuha stared back, their eyes crossing paths now and then, and quickly fleeing upon making contact. "You know what you said earlier… That you saw me in your dreams?"

A wave of second-hand embarrassment washed over Tomo like a storm tide. "I, huh, about that. I'm sorry, I—"

"No, I think I get what you mean," Kazuha's hand reached for Tomo's chin, lifting his face to force their glances to collide. "I have the feeling we met multiple times in the past, although I'm certain this is the first time I laid eyes on you."

Tomo swallowed a lump of tension in his throat, freezing on the spot while the final drop of rationality slid out of his body. "So, may I be so bold as to ask to see you again?"

Kazuha laughed whole-heartedly at that. He moved away from him, resting his back against the wooden chair. "Meet me at the Guild tomorrow evening."

The peak of the Festival was still a week away. Tomo had the nagging feeling that the upcoming days would be intense.

Carrying boxes all day was difficult. It became a true nightmare, though, when he had the brilliant idea to turn the boring job into a competition between him and Thoma. Local workers and sailors joined in the fun and ended up thrashing them both, not as used to manual labor.

With each muscle burning and begging for mercy, Tomo painfully dragged himself to his meeting point with Kazuha. His original idea was to drop anything they were about to do and sneak somewhere for another drink.

Since Kazuha had been kind enough to show him the refined cocktails of high society, he planned to bring him to the real deal: the street pubs and bars with cheap, throat-burning alcohol to dull out your senses.

All of this was scratched out of the list, though, his body too exhausted to take another hit.

"You look awful," was Kazuha's warm greeting. "Did you climb up Mount Tianheng?"

Tomo crawled up to him, patiently perched on a bench under the glowing signs of the restaurants. "I made the horrible mistake of underestimating a sailor's strength."

Kazuha didn't pry into the matter any further. He bounced to his feet, leading Tomo's way through the busy streets of Liyue Harbor. Thousands of tourists gathered to the capital for the Lantern Rite, and there wasn't an empty corner for miles on end. Every building was bursting with life and fun.

Kazuha guided him to the wharf, where crafters dutifully weaved lanterns and artisans carved masks for the festival. The air smelled of alchemy and sweet food, and Tomo inhaled deeply the scent of freedom.

"This is a prayer rack from Inazuma," Kazuha's voice won back his attention. Tomo followed the trail shown by his finger, noticing the wooden plaques lined up on the rows. "We can write our wishes here, if you want."

"Sounds great," Tomo accepted. In reality, he believed he'd agree to anything the man suggested. That's the pitiful state his heart wallowed in, more pathetic than a maiden in love.

While Kazuha talked to the owner of the stall and picked up two empty plaques, Tomo couldn't take his eyes off of him for a split second. He wore different clothes that night, the constricting button-up shirt forsaken in favor of a comfortable blouse. The intricate maple pattern printed on the fabric matched the color of his irises, red as the sunset, soft and burning.

"Here," Kazuha handed him his plaque. He pushed a tuft of white hair away from his face, securing it behind his ear, and began scribbling his wish in black ink.

Tomo's fingers wrapped around the brush, his wrist shaking from the tension in his muscles after the strains of his day job. Unsure what to wish for (he was a man of simple desires, after all), he settled for a poetic line he often repeated.

" I wish to find my missing piece ". The wood would carry his wish to the higher beings, hopefully granting it. He barely ever prayed or pleaded favors for them. Perhaps, they would be lenient.

When Kazuha was done, he hung his plaque onto the rack. Tomo peeked through his fingers as he tied it up in place, but could manage to make out a single word: freedom .

"Don't lanterns released during the festival serve the same purpose?" Tomo asked as he approached the board as well.

Kazuha nodded at his side. "True. But double the wish, double the chances it might come true, don't you agree?"

"Such childish reasoning coming from a business expert…" Tomo emphatically shook his head, a habit he had gently borrowed from dear old Yoimiya.

Before Kazuha could object, a loud meow rose from the folds of Tomo's haori. A rather angry Tama curled out of his chest window, blinking in annoyance at the bright lights of the wharf.

"Damn, I forgot to leave you with Thoma," Tomo whispered. In his hurry to spend time with his newfound muse, he had completely forgotten he had a cat in the first place. What a disgusting example of a pet owner. Maybe the gods wouldn't be so forgiving with him in the end.

"You… have a kitty?"

Tomo lifted his gaze right in time to see Kazuha's eyes sparkling in joy. He eagerly waved his hands towards Tama, in a shy attempt to pet her head. Tomo pulled the cat closer to Kazuha's palms, sighing in relief when she didn't scratch his fingers. She stood there like a good girl, letting the man shower her in affection.

"Her name is Tama," Tomo introduced her to him as if she was a new member of their group. Kazuha wasn't paying much attention, though, his focus all poured onto the white cat held in his arms. "She's a feisty one, but my most trusted companion."

Tama purred in content, rubbing her tiny head against Kazuha to press for more pats. The man's cheeks flushed at the sight, his fingers sinking deeper in the white fur. Warmth pooled at the pit of Tomo's stomach at the sight, and he averted his gaze to avoid getting unbefitting ideas.

The rest of their night passed quite fast. They sat on a bench, and Tomo handed Kazuha a grass stalk to play with Tama. He then watched in complete silence, while that beautiful rich man lost his composure to chase a kitty around the plaza like a child, having the time of his life as his face lit up under the moonlight.

The emptiness inside his chest shrank just a little bit.

Three days later, as the date of the festival peak drew closer, Kazuha visited him at his workplace. Tomo had to exercise his best effort to ignore Yoimiya's voice from the table, currently busy calling the man his wife who had come to check on him.

"So this is the cause of your muscle soreness?" Kazuha inquired with a teasing smirk, ogling the boxes piled up against the wall.

Tomo wanted to answer. He formed the sentence inside his head and was ready to open his mouth, yet he never managed to, because Kazuha had shoved his hands in the pile and wrapped them around a heavy box.

"Hey, no!" Tomo snapped, jumping at him and tugging his arm away. "No way I can let the heir of the Kaedehara family do labor."

Kazuha glared at him, pouting like a capricious child. "Why not?"

"You're like… a princess !" Tomo forcibly snatched the box out of Kazuha's hands, shoving it away where the man couldn't reach it. "You should sit down there with Ayaka and Yoimiya."

Kazuha stubbornly pushed him aside, his eyes glued to the stolen loot. "I insist, Tomo. Let me help."

Perhaps it was the thrill of hearing his name slipping out of his lips for the first time. Perhaps he had Kazuha's undeniable charm to blame, for he held him completely in his grip. Whatever the reason, the result was easy to predict: he gave up, letting him have his way.

Kazuha joined him, under Thoma's careful watch. Tomo left the lightest boxes to the side, making sure he'd carry those and none of the bulkiest ones, to preserve his fragile body as well as he could. That was their tacit agreement, the only compromise they were willing to settle with.

Tama, curled up in a white ball to the side of the construction site, meowed in content as they sweated under the cold winter sun. Kazuha proved to be an efficient worker, despite his inexperience with manual labor.

The only downside was that his fatigue doubled, since he was busy not just with lifting boxes and equipment, but also with staring at the man's profile while he worked next to him, catching every drop of sweat that rolled down his slender neck. He took a short break to drink, his throat begging for hydration.

And that's when Thoma attacked. He approached Kazuha, and Tomo could easily overhear their conversation in spite of the distance between them.

"So, are you guys on a date?" Thoma's hand rested on Kazuha's shoulder in a friendly pat. That was his number one weapon: extreme friendliness to take your guard down.

Blood drained from Tomo's face at Kazuha's reaction. He blushed, shyly averting his gaze. "No, it isn't."

At that point, he couldn't hide his emotions anymore. Tomo had noticed shifting feelings inside of Kazuha, his reactions becoming more and more heartfelt with each hour they spent together. He had Tama to thank for that, but also to blame. He wasn't ready to face his own feelings, to admit he had fallen head over heels at first sight for someone so much better than him.

"You know," Thoma maliciously decided to say. "Tomo cried when he heard your poetry."

Kazuha chuckled, now a familiar sound to his ears. "He cried?"

"Yeah, but how to blame him? Those words were so beautiful. I'm sure he fell in love with them."

Thoma should have learned when to shut his mouth. Tomo reached them in a hurry, blindly throwing the bottle behind his back as he ran to Kazuha's side. What a vile attack, aiming at his manly pride when he was unable to defend his honor. "I only cried a little ."

"Ah, yes?" Thoma wrapped his arm around Tomo's shoulders, in a friendly hug. "Maybe next time I should hug you and whisper to you that things will be fine and peachy?" Tomo pushed him away, laughing at his silliness.

He peeked at Kazuha to test his reaction. The man didn't budge, though, his cheeks suddenly pale. When they resumed their work, he busied his hands in silence, staying as far as possible from Tomo and barely saying goodbye once they parted.

That night, he didn't show up for their usual date. Eaten up by doubts, Tomo waited until dawn anyway, legs crossed on their favorite bench, wondering what he had done to upset him that much.

He found him outside the Feiyun Commerce Guild the following morning. Driven by exhaustion and despair, Tomo assaulted him, grabbing his arm with full force until Kazuha halted his steps with a panicked leap.

"Oh, it's you—" Kazuha took a deep breath, trying to calm his heart. "You scared me." He held a pile of books in his arms, likely much heavier than him. Tomo seized half of his load, swiftly balancing them on his shoulders. 

"I beg you, don't read the titles," Kazuha shot a panicked glance at him. Not like he was planning to, anyway.

Aside from that, Kazuha appeared to be alright. No signs of anger towards him, nor snappy replies. He was the regular, spoiled young master he cherished so deeply. "Why didn't you come last night?"

Kazuha didn't meet his gaze, dashing forwards across the street. "I wasn't in the mood to go out, my apologies."

"What did I do?" Tomo asked. Normally, he would let go. He knew from experience that if someone didn't open up spontaneously about a personal issue, then it wasn't smart to pressure them. But if it involved him… Well, then it was another matter entirely.

Kazuha stopped once more, glancing at the kids flying kites in the white sky. He gulped, stumbling on his words as he had rarely done before. "I was moved when your friend told me that you cried because of my voice," he explained. "But then, he mentioned the poem. It's not me that you got interested in— it was Zhenyu's poetry."

The riddle finally unfolded. So that was on his mind. Too bad Thoma spoke out of line, because none of it was remotely close to the truth. "No, Kazuha, I—"

Kazuha lifted his hand in the air to silence him. "I'm more of a prose type of author, but I decided to give it a try. I'll start with haikus, those are simple. So, maybe you can cry for my verses and not for someone else's."

Did he want to pick up poetry to impress him? Tomo's cheeks flushed at the thought, although the bruising misunderstanding weighed on his shoulders like a boulder.

"That's… Very sweet," he said. He grasped at Kazuha's wrist with his hand, his breath coming to a stop upon noticing how perfectly it fit into his palm— so small and delicate like a fresh flower. "But you got the wrong idea. I didn't cry because of the words; I cried because of your voice ."

Kazuha blinked once, twice… Then, his face turned a darker red than his shirt, burning brightly like a lit lantern. "You cried because of… my voice?" he echoed, "You like my voice?"

"Of course I do! I love how it sounds," Tomo was on a roll, nonsense streaming out of his mouth with no way for him to control himself. "It's elegant and beautiful, just like you."

Ah, oops . That part should have stayed a secret. The atmosphere shifted, air thickening around them. They were both too naive to understand what was happening, or what they were supposed to do and say.

One thing was crystal clear to Tomo, though: he truly, desperately wanted to kiss Kazuha. And he seemed to share the same foolish plan. His eyelids fluttered closed as he leaned forward, his mouth bent in a gentle pout, expecting.

Tomo closed the distance between them, hovering his lips over Kazuha's rosy ones. Yes, a kiss sounded amazing right now. A kiss between the rich heir of an important family, with connections throughout his homeland, and a commoner who bruised his hands daily with manual labor.

Tomo froze. No, he could not. He couldn't dare .

He changed the route of his kiss, placing it on Kazuha's forehead instead. Then, lacking the strength to utter a single sound like justification, he left.

He hoped Kazuha wouldn't mind his cowardice.

Unfortunately, Kazuha did mind.

He vanished from his life, spending the final days before the big show hidden from his sight. Tomo combed the entire Harbor, running up and down the staircases, climbing the jade roofs. He didn't leave a single trace or hint of his passage, wiping his existence off the planet.

Tomo regretted being a coward. If only he had been crazy enough to forget about their social standings and had followed his big, yet stupid, heart… Things would have ended differently.

He dejectedly trailed behind his friend group, watching as they bickered and laughed without care. He used to be that way too, until a couple of days before. Until his soul had been captured and then torn to pieces not by Kazuha, but by his own clumsy claws.

The fireworks were all set up for the celebration. Lanterns were ready to paint the sky as well, glowing in the excitement of the entire city. Thousands of unknown faces crowded the wharf, from the elderly to the newborn cradled in their parents' arms.

Tomo had been so ecstatic when daydreaming about that scenery. He imagined how the capital of Liyue would look under the magical coat of a festival, and each time he felt his chest throb in elation. But now that he was there in flesh and bone, the cold breeze sneaking under the fabric of his haori, he was simply... empty.

Familiar tufts of white hair slipped through the crowd. His brain melted, and he abandoned his friends without the faintest hesitation. He'd come back in time— he always did, somehow. He had an urgent matter to attend to, at all costs.

"Hey!" Yoimiya screamed as soon as he had turned around from his post. "Where do you think you're going?"

Tomo didn't look back. "Sorry, I saw a stray cat."

"Be sure not to miss the show!"

He ran, mentally begging the Archon or the Adepti or whatever god to help him in his search. They could forget about his wooden plaque if they were picky, and grant that wish instead. It mattered way more.

Thankfully, Kazuha was short enough to struggle while squirming through the ocean of tall men and women. Tomo managed to reach his side swiftly, taking advantage of his long legs, and to grab his wrist before he could vanish again.

Their eyes met for a split second. Kazuha's gaze drifted off immediately, as he gave a strong tug to Tomo's hand, trying to slip out of his grip. "Let me go!"

"Kazuha!" Tomo failed to recognize his own voice, twisted and distorted by unshed tears. "You're free to dump me whenever and however you want, but at least— at least tell me why ."

Hesitation crossed Kazuha's face, mingled with dull sorrow. An expression that Tomo wished he'd never get to see on his beautiful features. "Alright. Let's move somewhere less cramped."

Tomo let go of his wrist, and Kazuha promptly held his hand instead, dragging him through the crowd. It should have been the other way round, Tomo's taller body carving a hole through the swarm of foreign shoulders and skirts, yet neither of them cared enough to complain.

Tomo gulped, his heart beating inside his fingers where their skins met. He let himself be led to any place Kazuha's whims settled for. The lighthouse stood proudly above their heads, lights exceptionally turned off not to cloud the lantern's glow.

That's where they stopped. Small groups of people were gathered there, busy chomping on grilled fish or candied apples. It was hardly quiet, but not too overwhelming. "Why are you so mad at me?"

Kazuha bit his lower lip before speaking, as if to push back his tears. "I have the feeling I've made a fool of myself. Or that, to better say, you've been leading me on."

"What do you mean?" Tomo knew perfectly what he was referring to. But before making any bold statement and risking ruining things further, he'd rather let him pour his feelings over him, to know the depths of his resentment.

Kazuha surrendered. A shy tear rolled down his cheek, shining under the pale moonlight. "You were so romantic and sweet to me. We went on daily dates and held hands and laughed, but then— then, there was nothing."

"Looks can be deceiving, you know?" Tomo's rhetorical question was met with a confused glance from Kazuha, a wordless request to elaborate. "I was embarrassed."

Kazuha chuckled bitterly. The sound of it stung unpleasantly against Tomo's ears, so used to his genuine fits of laughter. That wasn't his Kazuha. That was the professional, aloof Mister Kaedehara that everyone else could see. "You didn't seem so shy when hugging your friend. I guess the problem only pertains to me?"

"Because I don't love Thoma that way," Tomo placed his palms firmly over Kazuha's shoulders, shaking him gently. "That hug meant nothing. But touching you, Kazuha, it's— it's different."

Time came to a standstill, as Tomo took in the meaning of his own sentences. That was the closest thing to a love confession he had ever scraped. Not quite as direct as the letters he slid in girls' pockets as a teen, or as the one time he screamed his feelings for a married woman in the middle of the street. It was more subtle, fragile. Yet, equally powerful.

They stared at each other, both unable to speak. Kazuha's cheeks were coated with tears now, and Tomo affectionately ran a finger along his soft skin to wipe them off, relishing Kazuha's warmth.

With a loud bang, the first fireworks exploded in the air, lighting up the night sky. Lanterns were released soon after, sprinkling the darkness with their romantic glow. People loudly held their breaths. Kazuha walked up to the railing, leaning out to enjoy a better view.

And in all of this (of all the colors, the emotions, the heat, and the magic surrounding the city) Tomo could only stare at something much more important and meaningful: Kazuha's lips, half parted as he stared at the sky in awe.

The show was over too fast. A bigger lantern, shaped like a mythical animal, flew high among the stars, carrying the clamor of the celebrations along in its sparkly path. The Lantern Rite had reached its end. Which meant Tomo would depart from the country, bidding his farewell to the pleasant memories… and to Kazuha.

The spell ended. The sea turned into the calm mirror of a placid sky, the pitch-black darkness interrupted only by the faint glow of the stars. There it was. The end. Kazuha climbed off the railing, bouncing to Tomo's side.

The moment of truth had come at last. "Remember when we hung plaques on the rack?" he asked. Kazuha nodded, the memory still fresh in their minds. "Did you see what mine said?"

"No", Kazuha shook his head, a teasing smirk on his lips. "But I know you peeked."

Tomo snorted, giving him at least that small satisfaction. Yeah, caught red-handed. He couldn't resist the temptation to know what was harbored in his chest. "It said: I wish to find my missing piece . Ever since I was born, I felt something was missing in my heart. And well, after hearing your voice—"

"Don't tell me—"

No. Teasing, bantering, sagacious comments could wait. That wasn't any random moment, it was the chance for Tomo to bare his feelings and stand his ground. Not even Kazuha could trample his ambition to convey his love. "I felt the gap close at its seams. Maybe you were my missing piece after all."

Such a sappy declaration. He feared Kazuha might laugh at him, and that would be a fatal blow to his unstable self-esteem. He didn't want to hear his mockery. The first groups of people began dispersing, the heat of their bodies abandoning them to the merciless cold of the winter night.

And then and there, Tomo decided the world could screw itself. He would do as he pleased, for once. He'd turn into the capricious god who bends the universe at his finger's snap.

He cupped Kazuha's cheeks with his hands, before erasing the distance between their mouths, and smashing their lips together. His lungs twitched, as if only now allowed to breathe, as if he had been holding his breath since he was born, waiting for that moment to come.

Kazuha kissed him back, letting his childish tantrum melt in the warmth of their joined mouths. Tomo wished for a second to be a better kisser, to show Kazuha the time of his life. But then again, average attempts were nothing less than an invitation to try again, to kiss more and improve— to start from scratch over and over.

He couldn't tell how long they kissed for, cradled by the gentle light of the moon. When they parted, Kazuha was breathless and debauched, a trail of saliva dripping down his chin. He rested their foreheads together, tenderly.

"You know, Tomo," he said, his fingers tracing circles on the palm of the man's hands. "Usually, you kiss people under the fireworks, not once everything's over."

Tomo inhaled deeply, taking in his sweet scent. He felt he'd never get enough of Kazuha, of his spoiled attitude and his stupidly beautiful looks. "Sorry, princess, but my friend worked hard on those. I had to respect it."

"It's alright," Kazuha said with a grin. "That means we can kiss again without ruining the mood."

Although Tomo was far from being a mind reader, he could pick up the silent plea in the kisses that followed. They shared the same wish, after all, the same desire. A missing piece for one, freedom for the other. There was a clear way to bring happiness to both.

Is there a vacant spot on your boat back to Inazuma?

"So, we meet again."

Tomo glanced up. Though he was rather sure he hadn't met her in his life, the woman felt familiar to his senses. Her pink hair glowed in the dark, purple tips reeking power and thunder crackling in her eyes.

Memories flowed back to him. So, that was the end of his journey. He couldn't remember how he died, that time— wasn't he traveling next to Kazuha? But there was no mistaking the identity of the person standing before him in that empty wasteland made of sand.

"So it seems."

That's what he once bargained for. He lived as a human, then was chosen to guide humans in the guise of an Archon, and had proven to not be fit for the role. So, striving to clutch Kazuha's love within his claws, he had given up his godly powers to reincarnate as a mortal once more. A pitiful existence indeed.

The episodes from the past made more sense as well. "So, you planned to overthrow me all along? Quite unclassy of you, Yae. You could have chosen so many better paths."

"To tell you the truth, I didn't plan to become the Archon myself," She walked down from her throne, closing the distance between them with silent steps. "I gained the Gnosis for Ei, were she to come back from her self-inflicted isolation. But she rejected the offer, saying her ideal was too corrupted to be worth giving her a second chance… I had no other choice."

Tomo laughed bitterly. "Seems like no Archon enjoys being one, after all."

"I'm not afraid of immortality. It's always been a part of me." Yae's hand reached for her chest. With a purple glow, she showed him her Gnosis, the same chess piece that once belonged to him. "Do you wish to return?"

"I thought I wasted my chance."

Yae hid the Gnosis inside her body once more, darkness enveloping the area in a tight grip. She glanced at the red temple gates at the opposite end of the wasteland, where a globe of light pulsated with thriving energy.

"Is this the afterlife?" Tomo inquired.

Yae shook her head, earrings glowing golden. "This is a special plane of existence. It's called the Plane of Euthymia— a trick I learned from an old friend."

"And what's beyond that light?" Tomo knew the answer in his heart all along.

"If you cross it, it's over," Yae's nails tapped lightly against his shoulder. A familiar gesture from the past, the one signal he couldn't choose how to interpret (was it friendly, or bewitching?) and that he figured he simply would never understand. "You'll reach the heavens, and that will be the end of Tomo. But if you want one more chance, I can grant it to you."

"Are you that bored already?" Tomo laughed at her. She had lasted barely a figment of his long torture in her position. Kitsune and spirits couldn't withstand the rules and duties of a god, after all. It was far too boring for their cunning nature. "But trust me, you would make the same choice in my place."

"So, it's your final decision?"

Tomo took a hesitant step towards the light. There was one question to ask, only one word that could drive him down one path or the other. "Where's Kazuha?"

"You died together on your boat trip to Fontaine."

See, he was right about boats, after all. They were truly the worst means of transport mankind had ever created. "That's not what I asked."

Although he was no longer an Archon, he was tougher than before. He was used to fighting and bargaining with scheming people, after spending half of his life working as a famous author's manager. Being under the protective wing of the Kaedehara family had its ups and downs.

Yae rolled her purple eyes, divine annoyance pouting her lips. "He's headed to the heavens as well," she said. "Seems like both of you are out of reincarnations. Unless…"

"Then, that's where I'm going."

Yae dropped the act. She didn't allow herself to be sad, for it distracted her from her plots. Even so, Tomo liked to think what shone in her irises at that moment was a sliver of sadness, albeit small. "I see. I can admit defeat when a deal is impossible to reach. Then… Farewell, Tomo."

"Farewell, Yae Miko. Don't mess up more than I did."

As he stepped into the light, he was sure he heard her chuckle. But it didn't matter, because he saw something more precious than a treasure buried six feet underground. Kazuha's face smiled at him, gently, silky hair swaying in the golden winds of heaven. He hugged him tightly, taking in his scent. He could hold him forever, now. It was the right choice for him, the only possible path.

Before his fate was sealed, he had told the Shogun that it was merely the beginning. Every beginning eventually finds its end— and for him, that was an eternity with Kazuha held firmly to his chest.

He had promised to find Kazuha wherever he would go, after all. Teyvat, heaven, hell… None of those was an exception. Nothing could stop his ambition.