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Liyue Harbour was a bustling hub of activity, of commerce, of trade. The call of the hawkers, the cries of sellers marketing their goods. Off to the side, the sound of “super fresh fish” graced one’s ears. Grunting workers lugged around lumbar and lights and trails of cloth from the various ships dotting the port. Harried members of the various ministries of the city trotted about with clipboards clutched in their hands, barking a slew of orders at their subordinates.
Liyue. The city of contracts. At least, that’s the way it was known.
Kazuha breathed deeply, taking in the humid sea breeze that caressed his face. The Moonchase Festival—Beidou had said—was soon to come. A festival to celebrate the arrival of fall by the light of the moon. One wherein the sacred adepti of Liyue were closer than ever to their people. Of course, now (as Beidou so eloquently put), it was a time for feasting and merriment and drinking. Especially drinking.
“Cast the anchors!” yelled Beidou from beside him as the Alcor slowly docked itself with a colossal bump. The crew scuttled across deck, pulling down sails, hoisting anchors, steering the ship in the right direction, waving to their families who had come out to see them return.
“Liyue Harbour looks delightful today,” Kazuha remarked, struck by the vibrant banners and decorative elements that had been so tastefully added everywhere.
Beidou shot him a sidelong glance and a grin. “The power of Moonchase.”
“Not that it doesn’t always. Everyone simply seems to be in high spirits.”
She chuckled, as some of the crew set out the gangway. “Come with me.” She waved her hand at him, signaling towards walking down the gangway first with her. “I want to introduce you to a fr—an acquaintance of mine.”
“Ningguang, is it?” he said, then stepped on the wooden plank as a crowd began to form, cheering for the widely-popular Captain Beidou. They didn’t know him, of course, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.
Beidou tilted her head, a spark of confusion glimmering in her eye. “How did you know?”
You almost said friend. Kazuha didn’t know what kind of a relationship these two had; they were quite often at odds with each other. But with the way the rest of the crew spoke about them and from the way Beidou described Ningguang, he had the sense that they did hold some deeper respect for each other despite their outward rivalry. After all, there was no one else Beidou could call friend, and then have reason to backtrack so abruptly. But he didn’t say any of this out loud. “Just an intuition,” he smiled instead.
“Hmm.” She narrowed her eye at him without any real bite to it, and he laughed.
The moment they stepped off the gangway, Beidou was swarmed by a multitude of Liyue’s citizens, all wide-eyed and excited to hear about her travels. Kazuha moved away, giving her enough place to survive the barrage of questions flung at her by a trio of excited little kids. The rest of the crew filed down after them too, Little Yue jumping down to hug another child, Yinxing grinning at a couple waiting for her, Suling’s face lighting up at the sight of a burly man with a similar appearance to him.
Everyone seemed to know each other. It was as though everyone on the pier was part of a puzzle and the descending crew of the Alcor fit seamlessly into the gaps.
There was no place for Kazuha though, not just yet. And there might never be.
Beidou extricated herself from the clutches of her adoring fans—her words, not his—beaming, waving, with promises to come back and regale them with her tales, and finally presented herself before him.
“You’re popular.”
Something in her face softened. “Might be out at sea most of the time but Liyue never forgets one of its own.”
“Ma’am! I mean Captain—Miss—er…” A young Shogunate—no, Millelith. He still wasn’t quite used to the Liyue terms. Anyway, this young Millelith soldier, red in the face from trying to figure out what to address Beidou as, saluted, clacking his heels together. “The Tianquan requires your presence at Yujing Terrace. She said to make haste.”
“Colour me shocked,” snarked Beidou. “Been here for a total of five minutes and Ningguang already feels the need to summon for me.” Kazuha didn’t point out Beidou was on her way to visit the Tianquan in the first place. “Well, the lady doth awaits. Come, Kazuha, let’s kill two birds with one stone.”
Draperies adorned the Yuehai Pavilion and the path that led towards the terrace. Pale yellow hemmed with darker shades of yellow again mostly, and as he trotted along with Beidou, Kazuha had to wonder if there was some sort of symbolism with regard to that. Perhaps it was reflective of the full moon on a dark night? Not that he could compare in the mottled sunlight.
And at the centre of the terrace, standing before a large stone smoother than a freshly-laid egg was a woman in the same yellows prevalent all around them. Her back was to them, her head tipped at an angle as she scrutinized this rock. All he could see of her was her long white hair, tinted with soft but dark grey, one half put up with an elaborate hairpin.
“Ningguang!” called Beidou, breaking the woman out of her reverie. She turned around, and Kazuha duly notes her regal features. She held herself high, a commanding nature rolling naturally off her shoulders. Her eyes, sharp and crimson, kept a pointed gaze towards him. He could see how she had risen to the position she held in the Qixing—because this woman was nothing if not meant to lead.
“Beidou,” she said, her voice deep and calm, almost… soothing. “And you brought a friend. You must be…”
It took a moment for him to realise she was addressing him. With a genial smile, he dipped his head slightly. “Kaedehara Kazuha. But you may call me Kazuha.”
“Kazuha. Are you a new addition to the Crux?”
He nodded. “Indeed.”
“Your name. It’s Inazuman, isn’t it?”
“It is.”
Those eyes of hers—the same colour as his, coincidentally—flitted to the glowing Geo vision on her waist, and then to his shoulder where his Anemo vision hung (and now, he was reminded of the missing weight of yet another vision from his pocket). It wouldn’t take a detective to gather that she was wondering about the Vision Hunt decree that had been rampant in his old region. Of course, that had now been abolished with the help of the Traveller, but the Sakoku Decree, still in force, made it harder for finer details to escape the land.
Before she or Beidou could speak further, Kazuha did. “It is quite an honour to be meeting the Tianquan. Beidou has told me a lot about you.” He put out his hand for her to shake it, noting the way her eyebrows rose at the bandages wrapped around.
“Is that so?” asked Ningguang, a new glimmer of amusement evident in her eyes as she daintily shook his. “I did not think Captain Beidou would take the liberty to wax poetic on my behalf.”
“Hey, now!” said Beidou sharply. “I did not wax poetic. As if I would about you. Besides, I leave the poetic imagery to this guy here.”
Ningguang chuckled. “No need to get so touchy. I only jest. However, we have had enough idle chit-chat. I called for you for a reason.”
Beidou jerked her head at the stone sitting on the pedestal in front of them. “Yeah. What’s this thing? Must have a ton of jade inside. Or something equally valuable.”
“Yes. That. Our fishermen found it a little ways off the coast. As per Liyuen law, they submitted it to the public office. However, even after all our efforts… we did not manage to break it open. I’ve never seen anything like this before. But Beidou, you’ve travelled all across Teyvat. Have you any idea what this may be?”
Beidou squinted. She then inched closer to the rock and rapped on it sharply with her knuckles. The sound came out muffled, indicating the lack of hollow space inside. Putting her ear to the unblemished wall of the rock, she stood in that position for a little. Afterwards, she bent up straight again and shook her head. “I’m just in the dark as you are. Kazuha, any thoughts?”
The sun beat down on his face with a gentle warmth. That old breeze he’d felt on the ship… it no longer spoke to him. Why, this was a new air. A little tame, a little unfamiliar. It told the stories of the gods and adepti who once graced this land but were no longer obligated to tie themselves down. It told the story of severed contracts, of stone-struck stone. The story of sacrifices made by one for all.
“This rock…” he murmured. “It is of great importance. Keep it with care. The wind tells me… there are some amidst us who can unearth its mystery.”
Ningguang stroked her chin. “Some amidst us…”
“The wind tell you anything a little more specific?” prodded Beidou.
“The wind is but a messenger. It says what it wants, what it needs to. There are some secrets it holds close to its chest, like a mother cradling her newborn child. These shall only be revealed to those it deems worthy.”
“Right…” muttered Beidou.
“Why, thank you, Kazuha,” said Ningguang more graciously. “I shall keep that in mind. And now, if you could excuse me. Captain Beidou too, I’d like to discuss a few matters with her.” She shot the hit of an edged glare at Beidou.
Beidou groaned. “About the Crux? I already do your dirty work, why must you—”
“We can continue this inside,” Ningguang interrupted. “In the meanwhile, Kazuha, I hope you will enjoy your stay in Liyue. With the Moonchase festival upon us, I’m sure you can appreciate the culture and traditions of our city. Please, feel free to put any expenses on the Qixing’s tab. I would like you to make the most out of your time here.”
“Thank you, Lady Ningguang. That is very generous of you.”
As Ningguang swept away, Beidou at her heels, he had to snicker to himself at the faint sounds of Beidou complaining about how he got a free pass to delight in the festivities, despite having met the Tianquan only once.
The sun had almost come to set, awashing the sky in pink hues, when he saw him. Braided blond hair, an earring that shone bright purple (it had been yellow when they’d first met), clothes unlike anything he’d seen citizens of Liyue wear. If that wasn’t a dead giveaway, the floating fairy whose shrill voice he could hear over the crowd made him sure. A number of “excuse me”-s and “pardon”-s later, he was within touching distance of the pair.
“Aether! Paimon!” he yelled over the din. “Over here!”
Aether whipped around, his expression flickering through bewilderment, recognition, and joy at the same time. “Kazuha! What are you doing here?” he asked as he pushed through everyone towards a less-peopled zone of the square, grabbing Kazuha’s hand and steering him that way too.
“I should be asking you the same thing. Shouldn’t you be in Inazuma right now? If I’m not wrong, you said you’d stay there for a while before leaving for Sumeru.” Besides, how did he even make it out of the region without having to go through months of rigorous paperwork? Though, Kazuha had an inkling that Aether wouldn’t be all too forthcoming if he asked that.
“I did, I did. But Paimon here,” he jabbed a finger at the fairy, “threw a tantrum until I came back to Liyue to get my friend, Xiangling, to make her some Black Back Perch Stew.”
“Hey!” Paimon blew out her cheeks and huffed. “Paimon did not throw a tantrum!”
“Sure you didn’t,” said Aether. “But as it turns out, we’re here right in time for Moonchase. Which is pretty cool. So, thanks, I guess, Paimon.”
“What’s with the tone? Is today Pick-on-Paimon Day?”
Kazuha shook his head fondly. “Well, you’re here now. Hello, dear friends. You must not have travelled by the wind, for you carry only its faintest trace.”
Paimon wrinkled her nose. “You’ve got to stop sniffing us every time we meet.”
“I didn’t—” but then he sighed, changing his tune. “How long is your residence here?”
“Not too long.” Aether’s face pinched. “We’ll stay for the competition, Xiangling might need some help.” On seeing his quizzical expression, Aether clarified, “What with the theme of the festival being Feast of the Bounteous Land, the Qixing organized a cooking competition. Our friend, Xiangling, is the daughter of Wanmin Restaurant’s owner. She’s passionate about cooking—er… maybe a little too much. Anyway, she asked us to assist her a little, taste-test food, things like that.”
“Ah. Then I shan’t keep you any longer, I’m sure you’ll be busy.”
“Never too busy for a good friend.” He slung one arm around Kazuha’s shoulder. “You could always come along with us. Xiangling wouldn’t mind another ‘culinary consultant’.”
“Thank you for the offer. However, I wouldn’t want to be a burden.” Seeing Aether open his mouth to argue, Kazuha added hurriedly, “besides, I would like to experience the city a little longer. I have been travelling with nature for so long, the scenery of city life seems quite quaint to me. The zephyrous hubbub reminds me of the rain. They share the same rhythmic thrum.”
It was no secret that he didn’t know anyone in Liyue. Such be the case, he hoped he could use this opportunity and make new acquaintances. Even with the life of a wanderer, companionship was something he would never turn down. His old friend—Tomo—had been a firm believer of that.
Aether chewed on his lip. “If you say so. But, in case you need me, just go to Wanmin, okay? If I’m not there, just ask Chef Mao to let you wait there a little, he’ll be happy to help.”
“Thank you. I’ll be sure to remember that.”
A walk through the city, aimlessly wandering with no destination in mind, led him in front of a dark building. It was unassuming, like the others. Unlike the others, however, the crowd left a wide berth before it, taking care not to get too close. So, of course, his curiousity piqued, he walked up the staircase.
A girl, perhaps a little younger than him or maybe the same age, and an older man were arguing. Well… less arguing. The man was on the verge of tears whereas the girl had the wildest of grins on her face.
“Director Hu, it’s Moonchase! You can’t seriously be suggesting that we pay Chef Mao to engrave an advertisement for a funeral parlour in his cornbread?”
“See, that’s what makes it so brilliant! No one will be expecting it. It’s new, innovative. Clients will be arriving in droves.”
“Director Hu…”
Not sure as to what he had walked into, Kazuha cleared his throat. Maybe it’d make more sense if he actually spoke to them. “Pardon my interruption. What is this place?”
The girl—Director Hu—spun around, her face somehow splitting into an even wider smile. Her eyes… they were red like his but also quite different from his. Full of laughter, holding a flowery imprint. “Hello, hello! Welcome to Wangsheng Funeral Parlour! I’m its seventy-seventh Director, Hu Tao. Pleasure to meet you, are you a new client? We have tons of offers, especially with the Moonchase Festival here. There’s a buy-one-get-one-free sale. A family pack as well! What do you say?”
For once in his life, Kazuha baulked. “I—er—did you say this was a funeral parlour?”
“Yep! You’re new to Liyue, aren’t you? Hmm… should I expand the business outside Liyue? More clients, but I couldn’t possibly oversee every branch…”
A deep voice—a thundering baritone—cut across her words like melted butter. “Master Hu, I would implore you to not frighten this young man.” From behind him came a man, tall as could be. In a way, he reminded Kazuha of the Raiden Shogun—upright, holding himself with a sense of confidence as though the world would revolve around him at a snap of his fingers. His long dark hair fell down his back in a neat ponytail, tipped at the end with gold.
“Aiya, Zhongli, you’re no fun,” she grumbled. “This here is… oh, I didn’t get your name.”
“Kazuha,” he said. “Kaedehara Kazuha.”
“Oh.” Zhongli nodded. “You must be from Inazuma. I heard about what happened with Ei there. The Vision Hunt Decree is abolished, though, I presume.”
Ei? Not many called the Electro Archon by that name. His gaze naturally flitted to Hu Tao, who had her eyes narrowed—but she widened them the moment she caught him looking. “The Raiden Shogun,” Kazuha remarked almost casually, “has seen the error of her past judgement.”
Zhongli sighed, his face sagging. “I forget that’s what you address her as,” he murmured. “If it’s not too much trouble, would you mind accompanying me for a walk? You would like to see more of Liyue’s tourist spots, I’m sure. I have a few references.”
“Of course,” hedged Kazuha.
They walked along the road, back towards Yuehai Pavilion. It was a slow walk, the man beside him treading with short deliberate footsteps. A few people waved hello, and Zhongli always greeted them back. No one paid Kazuha any attention, but that wasn’t surprising in the least. The most he got was a few whispers and stares towards his Vision, all the usual.
By now, darkness had descended. The throngs showed no signs of thinning. The soft lamps illuminated the banners, casting a glow on those passing by.
“What is it like in Inazuma now?” asked Zhongli all of a sudden, breaking the silence they had nestled comfortably between them.
“It’s…” Kazuha hesitated, looking for the right words, “serene. As though the tumult and terror of the Shogun’s reign had finally been put in check. The people are freer. They are no longer afraid that what was considered a blessing from the gods may be the cause for their downfall.”
“I hope this isn’t too intrusive, forgive me for asking. But what made you leave? If the situation has gotten better, as you say.”
“The life of a traveller has always appealed to me. When out in nature, I feel one with my surroundings. And staying put is stifling. Roaming around, wandering, seeing the world and experiencing it with my own senses, that’s how I hone my skills,” he admitted. “Besides…” and he added this after a loaded pause, “there is too much left behind. It’s best for me if I… if I forge ahead on my destined path, as the stars foretell.”
The colourless vision flashed before his mind’s eye, blinking with vibrant purple and then dimming down again. He could hear Tomo’s laugh, see his crooked smile. Kazuha took a deep breath, focusing on the trickle of the small waterfall in front of him. “The past is in the past.”
“I see.” He had known Zhongli for barely any time, but something told him that he—the sombre man staring off into the distance beside him—understood more than he let on. “That’s an admirable sentiment.”
Kazuha simply hummed, a noncommittal sound.
Zhongli sighed, a sound so contemplative and affected with the weariness of someone who had seen too much. “Yujing Terrace is only up the stairway. Did you know, it’s one of the only places in Teyvat where you find glaze lilies.” This information was seemingly unrelated, but Kazuha listened on anyway. “Legend has it that only the purest of music can open this flower. That, and the unbridled moonlight. This is why glaze lilies are often used as a symbol of Moonchase, for the beauty of the moon and the one who loved this flower and this festival so.”
Sobriety painted the edges of Zhongli’s tone, the tinges of someone who had lost one dear to him—but the reminders of his loss glared everywhere. Kazuha could relate. “I knew someone. He’d have loved Liyue and this festival too.” Tomo had loved festivals, he’d loved being around people. Tomo… would also have been extremely annoyed to see Kazuha dwell on him instead of enjoying this place to the fullest.
Zhongli spoke, but it was but a whisper, so soft Kazuha could only wonder if he’d imagined it. “I can tell.” He then turned to Kazuha, his golden gaze piercing into him. “Well, Mr Kaedehara, I wish you luck on your journeys. I hope you can enjoy your stay in Liyue. If you ever need any assistance, in Liyue or out of, you may come to me. And… thank you.”
“The pleasure is all mine,” said Kazuha, but as Zhongli took his leave, Kazuha knew that this conversation, strange as it may be, would be on his mind for a long while.
If there was one ability that he prided himself on, it was his uncannily sharp hearing. Out in the wild, there wasn’t much to listen to. The wind, of course, the occasional bird or critter, nearby streams, things of that nature. Sometimes, the faint calls of a storm. In the middle of the city, however, there was simply so much. Everywhere he went, there was something he hadn’t heard before, the threads of a new conversation that could carry itself for barely a minute and then fall off into another.
One phrase that was particularly ample in the mouths of the Liyuens was “Wanmin Restaurant”. That, coupled with the fact that he’d gotten somewhat lost in the intricacies of Liyue’s culture and majestic architecture which meant he’d forgotten to experience the city’s culinary wealth, culminated in a loud gurgle in his gut.
Perhaps he could take Aether up on that offer.
Wanmin Restaurant was easy to find, especially for a skilled tracker such as him. (No, it absolutely wasn’t because of the conspicuous sign on the building that said WANMIN RESTAURANT.) A man helmed the front of the restaurant, dicing onions—Chef Mao, one of the customers called him. Aether had mentioned him, if Kazuha recalled rightly.
Chef Mao looked up as Kazuha approached. “Wanmin welcomes you! You must be a new customer. What would you like?”
“I fervently hope it has been a fine evening for you. You must be Chef Mao, I presume?”
Chef Mao grinned. “The one and only. Albeit my daughter, Xiangling, she’s the culinary genius in this family.”
Aether had mentioned Xiangling too. Come to think of it, he’d heard that name before. On the Alcor, the crew was incredibly fond of her. They sang her praises, going so far as to say she was the only person they’d had the fortune to meet who could turn their abundant supply of fish into something to look forward to. Beidou had promised to introduce him to her the next time she joined their voyages.
He smiled somewhat. “Would you be acquainted with my friend, Aether? He’s quite well-known around these parts, and he instructed me to inquire here if I required anything—”
“Aether? Is he back?” called someone from inside. Kazuha peered past Chef Mao, to see a young girl, a bit shorter than him, meet his eyes. He startled, slightly thrown off by how similar her appearance was to the Tengu general, Kujou Sara. The similar cut of dark-blue hair and the dark yellow eyes. This girl’s, however, held a bubbly innocence he had not seen in Sara’s for as long as he’d known her. It was so different from that cold, hard look she’d had that day at Tenshukaku…
He had to physically shake his head—not that it did anything to drive the thoughts out. The girl took it as an answer to her question though. She left her stool at the back of the restaurant, wiping her hands on the back of her clothes. “My name is Xiangling! Pleased to meet you!” She stuck out the hand.
Kazuha, for a split second, almost considered not shaking it—her similarities to Sara spooked him. But he had to learn to separate the two, no matter how alike they looked. So, he took it and shook it, his palm turning as clammy as hers on contact. “Kaedehara Kazuha. Aether’s told me about you.”
She practically lit up at that, her brightness helping him set her apart from Sara in his mind. “He told me about you too! Oh, are you the new recruit on Beidou’s fleet?”
“You could say that. She speaks very highly of you.”
Xiangling’s cheeks turned ruddy. “That’s so sweet of her. Beidou and I are good friends, though I haven’t had the chance to travel with her for a while because I recently found this great slime hotspot in Nantianmen. I’ve been stocking up on slime condensate for my newest recipes.”
“Slime condensate?” he wondered aloud.
“Don’t look so surprised! It’s actually a very potent ingredient in lots of dishes. Oh, after this year’s Masterful Chefs, I’ll make some for you.”
“That does sound quite out of the box, but thank you.”
“Oh, no! Where are my manners? I’m so sorry, please come in! Take a seat, would you like to taste the dishes I’m considering cooking for the competition? Free of charge, of course, any friend of Aether’s is a friend of mine.”
“Ah, no, I couldn’t possibly—”
“I insist,” said Xiangling, dragging him inside and waving him over to a small table. “Besides, it’s useful for me. I’d hear another person’s thoughts on the food. You can never get too cocky when it comes to cooking.”
Before she could make a move towards food preparation, a stocky bear padded up to him and waved. It grunted loudly, and in that grunt, he could hear the whispers of rock and the crackling of flame. The sense of time as he knew it, just the way he’d felt with Zhongli.
“Oh, this is Guoba. Say hello, Guoba.”
Guoba grunted again. Kazuha waved back this time. Guoba seemed to like that and began jumping—as much as he could—wildly. A rush of air current enveloped him, causing a shudder to go down his spine. It was… familiar. But he seemed to be the only one to recognise it.
Xiangling giggled. “He likes you! Guoba, keep Mr Kazuha company while I cook, alright?”
Guoba nodded, making a series of almost high-pitched sounds, which Xiangling took to mean agreement.
She whirled away, slicing and dicing ingredients like nobody’s business. It took less than half an hour before she placed three plates in front of him, tastefully arranged. A delectable aroma wafted from them. “My main dish, it’s Jueyun Chili Chicken. It’s a cold dish combining fresh fowl and the signature chilis of Jueyun Karst, and therefore, is a special dish of our city. This here,” she pointed to the second plate, “is Triple-Layered Consommé that I use to contrast with the previous dish; the soft to its spicy. And finally, Crystal Shrimp, for a hint of sweetness to taper off your palate. Bon appetit!”
“Any… erm… slime condensate in here?” he asked cautiously.
“No,” she deflated. “A competition isn’t the best place to experiment with acquired tastes.”
“That is true,” he agreed. And he dug in.
The aroma had been in no way misleading as flavours burst across his tongue. The cold spicy chicken paired perfectly with consommé that evened it out, leaving behind the shrimp to wrap the entire course up in a perfect little bundle. He’d never quite had a meal made with such care before. He did consider himself to be a decent—if not good—cook, but this surpassed anything he could ever make.
“It’s delicious,” he stated, after swallowing down the last remnants of his food. Because it was. “I’m of the opinion that every meal must be crafted well. If your meal consists of a single steak, that steak must be cooked to perfection. And you’ve managed to exceed my every expectation.”
Xiangling clapped her hands together. “Oh, thank you! And… do you have any thoughts? About how I could do better, or anything in particular you liked? Anything will do.”
“I’m partial to fish myself, so I have to say that the shrimp resonated with me the strongest,” he mused. “However, the chicken and the consommé were integral components of the overall experience. I would describe it… as akin to the moment you step off the ship after a long journey at sea with the last flutters of the breeze calling your name. A complete culmination of the land, air, and sea.”
Xiangling’s face split into a beaming smile. “That’s the theme! The theme of the contest! ‘Of Earth and Water Born’,” she exclaimed.
“Well, then you understood the assignment perfectly, didn’t you?” said he warmly.
“Thank you, thank you!. I… was a little nervous before this,” she admitted. “I’m a good chef, I know that. But Yanxiao, my opponent in this competition, is a very talented chef as well. I don’t know why, but I was getting nervous. And being nervous only means that I won’t be at my very best, which isn’t fair to anyone, is it? So… thank you for being so kind, Kazuha.”
“All the best for the competition. I’m sure you’ll perform to the utmost and be a source of pride for all who know you.” He stood up, straightening his shoulders. “I should call it a day. Beidou will be wondering where I am. I’m supposed to rendezvous with her at the pier.”
“Say hi to her for me, will you? Oh, and tomorrow’s the Masterful Chefs competition. Ten in the morning, Yuehai Pavilion. You could come if you have time. And afterwards, we could all come back and—you said you liked fish, right? I could make you and Aether and everyone else some slime-roasted fish!”
“Of course.” Though he was slightly apprehensive about the slime-roasted part of it. “Take care.”
“You too!”
Guoba pattered up to him, eyes downcast. He tilted his head with a questioning noise.
“I shall see you again tomorrow, Guoba. This is where we must part. For the tides of the waves call us away, but there are some amidst us that will be the reason for us to reunite.”
Guoba didn’t look all too happy about it, but Xiangling picked him up in her arms. “Ten o’ clock!” she called after Kazuha. “Yuehai Pavilion!”
The life of a traveller was his true calling, realised Kazuha as he turned back to the restaurant and the young girl waving with undiluted enthusiasm at him. He was better not tied down to any place, flitting here and there like a wayward butterfly—he could never give up the freedom of going wherever he pleased, as the wind suggested. However, he supposed that didn’t mean he couldn’t ever have a place anywhere. Perhaps that’s what people meant when they said ‘the real treasure was the friends we made along the way’.
Tomo… Tomo would have liked this.