Chapter Text
“Well that was a complete waste of time.” Ayaka grumbles as they pass through the last of the shrine gates lining the stairway to the Narukami Shrine.
Thoma only hums thoughtfully, glancing behind them with a meaningful look.
And Ayaka gets it, she does. She should probably wait until they’re further from the shrine’s entrance to start openly complaining but she can’t help it. After receiving the urgent summons it had taken half of the morning to trek up the steep mountain pass; as only the final few switchbacks were paved with cobblestones for ease of travel. The rest of the journey is marked by well worn trails and long patches of dirt where the grass has been trampled back into the earth from all of the shrine's visitors. By the time they make it back down to the estate half of the day will have been essentially wasted, and for what?
“I mean, who plans two meetings at the same time?” Ayaka throws her hands up with a huff of annoyance. “And one in the city, no less, so we can’t just wait here unless they plan to host us all day. That’s so- it’s-”
“An honest mistake?”
“Rude! It’s rude. And reprehensibly uncouth.”
Thoma only offers a shrug. “I’m sure they didn’t intend to double book. The Priestess is probably busy preparing for the Golden Week, there are plenty of ceremonial events to oversee: It was likely a simple clerical error.”
“Clerical error or not, next time, Lady Miko can come down from her high mountain to the estate herself if she has something oh-so-important to discuss with the Commission. It’s not like we’re exactly sitting around twiddling our thumbs. The upcoming ceremonies have our staff spread thin and working overtime to ensure the festivities are properly coordinated.” She continues, making gestures of frustration.
Thoma’s audible sigh from behind her is the only hint he gives that he disagrees.
At the sound, Ayaka forces herself to take a slow breath, stemming her venting annoyance because he’s right. He hasn’t said a word, but he’s right. She’s known Thoma for long enough to realize when her retainer is gently rebuffing her attitude or approach to a problem (and she also remembers a time when she hadn’t; had mistaken the subtle signs for disrespect and responded as if they were such. It wasn’t something she was proud of but she knew better now). She knows she’s being unfair, and she knows- internally, at least- that her frustration stems from a combination of the abrupt summons, a subsequent impromptu hike up the mountain, and an unfortunate conversation with a very rude shrine maiden that hadn’t helped soothe her mounting anger.
But knowing doesn’t help the fact that she still feels slighted, as if her time is less valuable than that of the Grand Narukami Shrine Priestess.
She’s so caught up in her own thoughts that Ayaka didn’t notice the hole until her foot crashed through the thin layer of dirt covering it. She falls forward with a yelp, hands flailing only to scrape along the combination of cobbled stones and wild grass as she faceplants, armor crunching against the unpaved gravel.
“M’Lady!” Thoma’s surprised shout follows a beat later, but already she’s pushing herself up onto her forearms, spitting out a clump of grass and glaring back at the foxhole.
Was everything attempting to blacken her day today? If she’d accepted the offer to pull her fortune, it would have surely been one of great misfortune, promising stormy skies and restless winds.
Thoma comes to crouch beside her, hands hovering with uncertainty at her shoulder. “Are you-”
“I’m alright, Thoma.” She interrupts, waving off his concern with a hand as she forcefully yanks her right foot out from where it was tangled with the burrow. “My pride is a bit bruised,” she admits, standing up and dusting the dirt from her clothes, “but otherwise-”
She cuts of with a hiss as her heel sends a spark of pain tingling up her leg. Ayaka rocks back off of her left leg, and Thoma’s gaze darts down to the offending appendage, eyes narrowing. Ayaka feels a short flash of pride at her retainer’s attentiveness that’s quickly surpassed by a groan when his overprotective nature kicks in.
“Sprained?” He asks, fingers gently prodding around the joint.
Ayaka shakes her head, rotating her ankle as much as she can before the pain bids her stop. “Just twisted, I think. It’s not that bad, I can manage.” She says. She’ll have to, as the path leading back down to the estate from the Narukami Shrine is a steep endeavor with many of the switchbacks barely more than a shoulder’s width. Ayaka limps forward a single step, unsuccessfully fighting back a wince, before a gentle hand steadies her shoulder.
“Here, you can lean on me, m’lady.”
Ayaka’s cheeks flame at the mental image that request produces. “I most certainly will not!”
Then she cringes at the sharpness in her tone, the lingering anger from earlier making the bite harsher than intended, and immediately regrets the words as a flash of hurt crosses Thoma’s face. The expression is gone an instant later to be replaced with his trademark grin and cocked eyebrow, but the smile never reaches his eyes.
“Surely I don’t smell that bad, m’lady?”
“No, that’s not-” Ayaka clears her throat, trying again. “As the Lady of the Kamisato Clan, it would be improper if I was seen dangling from your shoulder like a stumbling drunkard.”
“Ah.” Understanding dawns and he nods. “In that case…”
Ayaka blinks as Thoma steps up to her side, extending his bent elbow to her with his arm crossed horizontally in front of his chest. His profile is striking in the midafternoon sun, the light dancing on his tanned skin and illuminating the depths of his verdant green eyes that seem to twinkle with mirth. Thoma stands to his full height, posture remarkably regal as compared to his relaxed saunter from just moments earlier. If it wasn’t for the uniform he wore, Ayaka would’ve sworn he looked like any other nobleman from another clan.
He tips his head dutifully in her direction. “Will this suffice, m’lady?”
Ayaka stares blankly for all of three seconds before her brain keys into what Thoma’s offering. “Oh, yes- I mean, of course, that will be fine.” She loops her own arm through his, leaning on the corded sinew discreetly even as she audibly sighs from the relief it provides to her ankle. “Thank you, Thoma.” And she hopes he can hear the unspoken apology.
He does, the facade of regality falling for a moment as his face shines with a genuine smile, then the mask of formality is back in place and he gestures extravagantly with a hand, bowing low in a mockery of politeness. “After you, m’lady.”
She checks him with an elbow to his ribs, but smiles while doing so, and she swears that Thoma’s reactant wince looks closer to a wink as he straightens. And as they continue their way down the mountain, Ayaka tells herself that the warmth she feels spreading through her chest is from the blazing sun beating down from a cloudless sky, and not from the genuine surge affection she feels whenever Thoma smiles at her.
She hadn’t always felt that way about their companionship, but things were different now- better now.
A far cry from how things began.
Ayaka remembers well, it’s been almost half a decade now, but she can still recall with vivid clarity the icy demeanor she’d had back when Thoma had first joined the commission staff. Thoma’d been in his mid-teen years, with an easy smile and nervous air about him. She could tell immediately that he was an outsider, everyone could, and the rumored whispers of the Kamisato Clan fostering a stray had followed her whenever she walked through the towns and villages on the way to Inazuma City.
Ayaka had hated it.
Not because they were insulting one of her staff, but because the gossip was demeaning to their clan. Worst of all, Ayaka couldn’t understand why Madam Furuta had brought the immigrant into their service, couldn’t understand why the elder would make their clan look so weak as to need to hire housemates that were foreigners: outsiders.
Her predjudice towards Thoma only solidified in those early months, as he was learning his way around the estate. He would address his superiors with familiarity, forgetting to bow to esteemed guests and the brazen breach of conduct only served to complicate negotiations for her brother. Or he would strike up conversations with the other housekeepers and guards while they were on duty, his loud voice carrying through the house or the courtyard with no consideration for the others nearby. Or he would serve her tea incorrectly, messing up the order of the highly ceremonial process without so much as an apology, or- even worse- brewing the tea incorrectly so that it came out bitter instead of fragrant and sweet.
Ayaka had never seen Ayato reprimanded Thoma for anything, though.
She just couldn’t understand it. And while she followed his lead, tolerating the missteps, she was still cold towards the Mondstatian, icily commenting on his breach of etiquette, or cooly refusing to touch her cup of tea if he poured it for her wrong. She didn’t miss the way he would wince at her words, and a smug part of her had felt glad, proud that Thoma felt like the outsider he was. Because Ayaka just couldn’t accept it.
Until one day, when she was on her way out to the courtyard for her daily weapons training.
It was early, the dawn rays stretching across a lilac sky spotted with flecks of gold and crimson. The guards had just changed shifts, and she spotted Ayato leaning against the western balcony of the patio area, a rare smile on his face. Ayaka had made to join him, pulling up short as she saw that Thoma was standing next to him, leaning on the banister as well with a casual air, his hands moving animatedly as he spoke something too soft for her to make out. Ayato smirked, made some comment, and then Thoma reached over to shove her brothers arm lightly with a grin of his own.
And Ayaka had seen red. Her blood had chilled with an intensity she hadn’t felt since she first received her vision.
How dare he. Her hand had automatically slipped to the pommel of her sword, knuckles white. How dare this- this housekeeper- this outsider touch the Lord of the Kamisato Clan like they were of the same status: like they were equals!
But then something happened that stayed her hand. Something wonderful.
Ayato laughed.
Actually laughed.
The sound had frozen her in place as effectively as her vision did to her opponents, and she had simply listened to the rich bells that rang from her brothers mouth. A sound she hadn’t heard since the passing of their parents years before.
It was beautiful.
And Thoma had been the one to draw it from him.
Ayaka’s hand had fallen to her side, face going slack while something twisted in her chest. It was something warm and venomous at the same time, like guilt but not as strong, like regret but not as painful, like love but not as intimate, like longing but not as distant. To this day she struggles to place a name to the emotion she’d felt in that moment.
But then Thoma had shifted so his back was pressed to the railing, and his eyes flicked over, noticing her standing there for the first time. His smile had frozen, deep jade eyes flickering between her own, looking for something, or perhaps seeing that something she struggled to name. He raised his hand in greeting, smile now tense and hesitant, but no less inviting. Ayato had raised an eyebrow, then started to turn as well and Ayaka-
Ayaka had run.
She’d ran back into the house as fast as her sandaled feet could carry her, not caring how they slapped the wooden floorboards loudly in the most unladylike manner, the heavy door slamming shut behind her. Retreating to her room, Ayaka had barred her door, sitting on the foot of her bed with a lost look, mentally running through the past few months and trying to determine what had changed to bring back the light in Ayato’s eyes; and try as she might to deny it, the only answer was the one she hadn’t understood until just now.
It was Thoma.
The Mondstadtian, with words that carried on the winds of his homeland, stories that filled the estate with a liveliness that hadn’t been present in years. The foreigner, whose informality and disregard for customs and courtesies spoke to the freedom he’d grown up with. The outsider , who had managed to worm his way into Ayato’s life and pulled out the brother Ayaka had missed, the brother Ayaka loved, when neither she or the other staff members had been able to crack his hardened exterior in years.
Ayaka cried; unable to tell if they were tears of sorrow or joy.
From that day forward, Ayaka had watched closely as Thoma interacted with the other staff members and guards. She saw the friendship and kindness he offered- often at his own expense as he extended his services to anyone needing help- all with that same sunny smile on his face. Slowly life returned to the rigid commission, music and dancing became more frequent during nights when the sky was clear and the air was brisk. The idle chatter of the housekeepers would fill the hallways as they worked, always respectfully quiet, but animated anew with a lively air.
The estate had felt brighter and warmer than it had felt in a long, long time: and it was all thanks to Thoma.
“Is your head lost in the clouds again, m’lady?”
The question snaps Ayaka from her reminiscent thoughts, and she blinks at Thoma blankly. He must have asked her a question, she realizes, and rather than admit she wasn’t paying attention, her eyes dart up to the clear blue sky.
“There are no clouds today.”
“And yet you still managed to get lost in them.” Ayaka shoots her retainer a flat look that he chuckles at, before continuing. “I was curious what we should do with the rest of our afternoon, now that it’s suddenly freed up.”
Ayaka hums. Realistically, she should use the free time to assist Hyakubei with assigning commission requests. In the week leading up to the Golden Week they normally received a host of requests for specific tea sets or ceremonial props and decorations for the various festivals. But…
“Perhaps some tea is in order.” Ayaka comments, seeing Thoma’s eyebrows raise in surprise. “And then a well deserved mid-afternoon rest.”
Now Thoma is outright staring , and Ayaka shifts beneath his gaze.
“What?” She eventually snaps, unable to take his silence for longer than a minute, not when she can see he is clearly trying not to say something.
Thoma’s lip quirks up. “I just never thought I’d see the day where you voluntarily took a break, is all, m’lady.”
“It happens on occasion.”
“That occasion being the day Lord Ayato loses a sparring match to one of the guards.”
Ayaka elbows her retainer none to gently. “Hold your tongue.” She reprimands, even though the words hold no heat.
Thoma bows partially from the waist, mockingly serious. “As you command, m’lady.”
Yes , Ayaka thinks with a smile as Thoma starts discussing another topic of relative unimportance, filling the air with his soft words that themselves play like a foreign melody in the air, life would be much different without Thoma in their lives.
After what feels like hours, they finally make it to the end of the path. Ayaka slips her arm out from his as they reach the wooden walkway built into the mountainside. The Kamisato Estate is just over the next switchback and she’s hit with the sudden need to make the last leg of the journey on her own two feet. Thoma raises an eyebrow but stays silent, his arm lowering a fraction but not entirely- just in case she changes her mind. But she won’t, even if she needs it she can push through a little discomfort for the sake of saving face.
Thoma shakes his head, muttering, “...stubborn as your brother.”
“What?”
“Ah- n-nothing!”
They’re about halfway across when she sees Thoma pull up short in her periphery, a pinch between his brow as he sniffs the air. Ayaka looks back, a question in her gaze. He doesn’t look at her, scanning their surroundings instead. “Do you smell that?” He asks, voice serious.
Smell what? Ayaka takes a deep breath through her nose, picking up the fragrance of the Ootari trees and the scent of mint on the meandering wind. But there’s something else, something quite pungent hidden under the more dominant layers: if she had to guess she would say it reminded her of the one time she’d tried to make a fried egg for her brother but had accidentally burned it instead.
Thoma’s eyes widen as he pieces something together, and he dashes forwards with her name a cry on his lips as the world explodes around her.
Ayaka is flung back by some force, her armored back smacking solidly into the mountainside and bouncing off the rocks. Something gentle but firm wraps around her shoulders as the floor gives way beneath her and her stomach lurches as she falls. It’s a short tumble to the ground below, the impact surprisingly soft considering the rocky mountainside: Her world is a mixture of smoke and soot, bruises and pain, and Ayaka coughs as she inhales some of the dust. There’s a tight groan in her ear, a familiar sound that manages to push through the ringing in her head, and she blinks her eyes open to see Thoma’s arm curled protectively around her, his body pinned firmly between herself and the ground.
“Tho-” She’s cut off by another ugly sounding hack, this one lodging in her throat. She tries again but it's no better than the first and she can’t stop it. Her head is already ringing but the coughing leaves her lightheaded and breathless, and it's only then that she notices there are other voices pushing through the haze.
Guards from the estate?
Had they heard the crash and come to investigate the noise?
“-her?”
“-said she’d be alone , who’s the-”
“-doesn’t matter, just grab the girl and-”
No. Not guards.
Hands. There are hands on her now, not gentle, their fingers digging into the flesh of her shoulder as she’s hauled up and off of Thoma. The world spins dizzyingly and she stumbles with a hiss as her ankle protests the motion. “Come on m’lady ,” the unfamiliar voice rasps from next to her, sarcasm dripping from the words. “Nice and easy, now. That was quite a tumble you took eh?” A chuckle, not bright and cheery, but snide and mocking. “Up you come now. That was a nasty fall but still, can’t keep the boss waiting, can we? ”
Boss? Ayaka’s thoughts are a jumbled mess right now as the hand on her arm hauls her up from where she’d been beginning to slump back down. She shakes her head to clear it and has to close her eyes as the motion only makes the already blurred world spin. The vertigo is disorienting and she falls back on long formed habits, slipping easily into the problem solving routine she’s developed over the years of running the commission alongside her brother.
Step one: Focus. She takes a breath, her heartbeat already beginning to steady. Step two: Evaluate. There are hazy outlines of people, lots of them, clumped around the debris that has yet to fully settle. As for herself she’s- well, her head is still pounding and her ankle is on fire , but otherwise she’s alright. Step three: Prioritize.
...Thoma. Where was Thoma?
“Oh, is that the runts name?” Ayaka startles, not realizing she’d spoken aloud. “Don’t worry, my boys’ll take good care of him. Ain’t that right lads?” The voice sneers.
Laughter. Dark and ugly and mocking.
Ayaka blinks a few more times as the smoke is finally cleared by the wind, and she gasps at the picture her eyes paint.
The walkway is completely destroyed, a large gap in the path where wooden planks dangle in fractured pieces, the edges crisped a charcoal black. Rocks and splinters of wood have collapsed, and among the wreckage she can spot flecks of glowing red puddles of slime and scarlet hued pieces of wood. All at once the explosion made sense, the burnt egg smell wafting up on the wind from the hidden pyrotechnic. This was an ambush!
Situated in the middle of the carnage is a small group of Nobushi, the ronin-for-hire cackling as one of them reaches down into the rubble, hand snagging on something and yanking.
Thoma cries out, a broken board falling away as his hand reactively flies to his head to try and pry the mercenary’s fingers from where they are tangled in his hair. Ayaka’s blood chills as she watches them haul her retainer up. Thoma stumbles to his feet, his black shirt grayed from the debris and red jacket smeared with dirt. A thin trail of blood tracks it’s way down the dust on the side of his face, staining his bangs crimson. He’s manhandled into the small grassy space between the mountain and the cliff before being shoved roughly to his knees. Dazed eyes wander up to meet her own, confusion swimming in their depths as the Nobushi around him laugh and jeer.
“Not much of a bodyguard are you?”
“You’d think the Kamisato’s would be able to pay for better protection-”
“Hey- isn’t this that brat from Mondstadt? Outsider scum -”
“-doesn’t even have a weapon! How pathetic.”
“Let’s go, your highness .” Ayaka yelps as she’s yanked forwards by her wrist, the hand closed over it as thick as a length of iron. She looks up to see a small tent pitched just under the shadow of the mountain and out of sight of the main path. “Don’t worry, we’ll take good care of you too, if you behave. If not…” The thug lets the sentence hang, a toothy grin flashing in the light.
So this wasn’t just an ambush, it was a kidnapping. An attempted one, at any rate. Why they wanted her, Ayaka can only guess at, but that’s not terribly high on her list of priorities right now.
They haven’t restrained her hands, nor taken her vision; and the cryo gemstone cools at the base of her spine. She has to act now before they realize their blunder. It could be her only chance, but… her resolve wavers, because she’s not the only one in harm's way. Ayaka looks back over her shoulder at Thoma, a question dancing in her gaze. And despite the possible (and likely) concussion, understanding dawns in those beautiful jade eyes as he also processes the leader’s loudly spoken words and her silent look. He nods, and she sees the soft glimmer of light as his spear materializes in his free hand.
There are shouts of surprise as Thoma twists, slamming the butt of his spear into the gut of the thug holding him. The thug doubles over with a gasp and Thoma’s other hand locks onto where the mercenary’s wrist was still tangled with his hair, pulling down and standing up in one motion. Thoma’s head cracks into the Nobushi’s jaw, sending him crashing to the floor in a boneless heap.
It’s all Ayaka allows herself to see. She has to trust in Thoma’s own abilities for now (not that they were ever in doubt, as he wasn’t given the position of being her retainer lightly) turning back to her own captor who’d stopped at the sound.
Ayaka pulls her own sword into existence and slashes, a burst of cryo slamming into the thug holding her and knocking him away with a startled cry. If they thought they could just take her without a fight, they were sorely mistaken. She staggers back a step, grimacing at the pain of her twisted ankle. Her falter gives the larger man enough time to draw his own katana, and his lips twist into a snarl.
“Hard way it is, then.” He growls, before lunging forwards.
The fight is sloppy, mainly due to the fact that Ayaka’s foot refuses to cooperate and her head is still spinning. Her normally mobile and fluid form turns stale and rigid as she tries to account for the wounds she’s already sustained. Her vision swims a bit as she spins to evade a slash, and she covers the misstep with a whirl of frost, freezing the ground beneath the mercenary and sending him sliding back. It buys her a moment to breathe and she risks a glance at the other engagement.
Thoma’s on the defensive, his standard issue Kitain Cross spear a blur of movement as he deflects attacks from the sword-wielding Nobushi. For all of his calm and carefree nature, he’s wickedly precise in battle. Ayaka has watched countless sparring matches between Thoma and her older brother, both of whom wielded the normally-unwieldy weapon as if they’d been born with it, and although her brother often got the winning strike in their bouts, Thoma was handily one of the cleverest opponents to ever face Ayato. He would find openings and steal advantages that surprised both of the Kamisato siblings, and Ayato was never witholdant to praise the unusual tactics he employed.
But this fight is three on one, and Thoma’s movements are stiff too, grimaces stealing over his face with each swing; what’s more is that Thoma doesn’t have a vision to compensate for the odds like she does. He’s being forced to give ground, herded back on all sides by his adversaries. As she watches, he dodges a particularly close swipe by planting the tip of his spear in the ground and using it as leverage to kick up and out at the attacker. The Nobushi is knocked back from the blow, crashing to the ground, but another is there to stab forward and Thoma has to hastily adjust his weapon to take the brunt of the blow. The fallen mercenary gets back up with a snarl.
They’re herding him back, and Thoma’s booted foot digs into the ground, sending a cloud of dirt tumbling over the edge of the cliff he’s being corralled towards. She can hear the scornful laughter of his assailants as they close in, and Thoma sweeps the spear in a wide arc to drive them back. It’s a momentary respite and his gaze darts over his shoulder to the yawning ravine below.
She has to help him.
Ayaka surges forward, calling forth a line of cryo for her to slide along, gaining momentum as she closes the distance. She feels the wave of heat sear into her skin seconds before a blast of pyro melts the path in front of her and she stumbles on the charred grass, her left foot buckling under the unexpected weight and sending her to her hands and knees with an involuntary cry.
“Not so fast, princess .” Her own opponent approaches with slow, methodical steps, his blade coated with flames. In his off hand, she can see the now empty vial of flaming essence, the oil dripping from the lowered tip of his fiery blade. “We have unfinished business.”
She stands, facing him and brandishing her blade even as her left foot trembles to support her. In her periphery she can see that the others are simply toying with Thoma now, teasing their blades out and abusing the fact that he has limited space and can’t use the longer weapon effectively. And yet, despite his predicament, fear holds no residence on his features. Thoma’s eyes are narrowed in concentration as he deftly evades the blows, but there’s something in them- a solidity and strength- that shines brighter when he catches her eye; it gives Ayaka hope because she knows that look as well.
He has a plan.
Far be it from her to know what it is, but the sight chases away the panic fluttering in her chest.
“What do you want?” Ayaka’s voice is as cold as her vision as she turns back to face the leader.
The Kairagi smiles in victory. “Fall before me.” He says with a wicked glint in his eyes. “Drop your sword and beg for me to spare his poor, pathetic life and I will see it done.”
“Ayaka, don’t-” Thoma’s protest is cut off as he’s forced to dodge a more serious attack, the other mercenaries closing in and forcing him to dance on the small strip of earth he has left. Even from here she can hear his low growl of frustration.
“Do it or he dies.”
It’s a choice. Not that there’s much choice in what her answer will be. Not really. She knows this, and so does the Kiragi, because the smile that curls his lips is a cruel one. And though her eyes are still hardened and cold, her heart is already thawing.
The tip of her blade lowers a fraction-
And then Ayaka sees it from the corner of her eye: the way Thoma crouches, weight forward as his polearm becomes a whirl of lilac, knocking all three of the Nobushi’s brandished swords aside in a single motion. The unexpected offensive has the thugs stumbling back, providing enough space for Thoma to-
Ayaka balks, eyes widening, did he just -
She barely has time to react as is, shifting her weight backwards as Thoma kicks his spear at the narrow space between her and the Kiragi. The polearm hurls between them, spinning like a drill, and there’s a loud CLANG as it connects with the extended blade of the Kiragi, knocking it aside for just a moment.
It’s all she needs.
Ayaka takes the opening and lunges, bad ankle screaming in agony, cryo spinning around her in a storm of ice and frost as she blasts her way through the Nobushi. The Kairagi shouts from behind her, and something bites hot and deep into the back of her right calf but it’s numbed by the sheer cold radiating from her vision. One of the other Nobushi had recovered faster than the rest, and was already slashing down at where Thoma had landed in a crouch (landed because he’d jumped when he kicked his weapon with an agility Ayaka had never seen him display before).
Her blade flashes up, catching the blow aimed for Thoma’s exposed back, cryo dancing along the honed edge of her sword and chilling the thugs blade to the point that her parry snaps the inferior iron clean in half. Still sliding on her ice, Ayaka careens into Thoma, and she can feel his hands brace on her shoulders to keep her from falling. But instead of halting her momentum, he tips backwards, pulling her with him over the edge, and for the second time in the last half hour Ayaka feels her stomach drop as the ground disappears beneath her. She loses a wordless, breathless scream of pure terror as she falls.
This drop is already lasting much longer than their short tumble off of the walkway; but she knows it won't last forever, and when they hit the bottom...
The air rushes past her, each second feeling simultaneously instant and everlasting, and she feels Thoma’s arm snake around her waist, pulling her close to him, her back to his chest.
“Hold on!” He grunts, somehow managing to turn them in the air and with a shout he plunges the tip of her sword- she didn’t even know how, let alone when , he managed to grab it from her- into the side of the mountain. The sharpened steel bites into the limestone, tearing through the soft rock and marginally slowing their descent. Ayaka’s heart swells with hope, and she dares a glance down. They’re still much to high, but if they can use the sword as a fulcrum to swing onto one of the closer, grassy ledges-
SNAP!
Thoma’s breath hitches at the sound, and suddenly the air is moving much faster past her ears. Her eyes trail back up to take in the clear blue sky, the looming mountains, and half of her broken sword jutting from the cliff face above them as they return to their chaotic freefall. Her vision blurs, and Ayaka distantly realizes she’s crying. She’s scared . Oh, Archons above she’s going to die -
But then there’s something warm and strong, and it curls around her protectively, a flash of red and black holding her tight and cradling her head.
Thoma.
No. Guilt wells immediately with a vengeance because she knows what he’s doing. He’s going to get hurt because of her. Again. He… he could die because of her. She desperately tries to shift them, switch positions- she’s the one wearing armor, after all (even if it only covers her chest and is more ceremonial than anything)- but she doesn’t have the same control in the air that he does and her squirming only makes him squeeze her closer.
“Thoma!” His name is dragged from her lips in a desperate shout, but she’s not sure what she’s trying to say.
A plea? An apology? A demand?
They hit the ground before she can figure it out.
Thoma grunts, and she feels the muted impact as they smash into a jutting ledge, she hears something crack, unsure if it’s rock or bone, before they’re ricocheting off of the slanted ledge and falling further, now tumbling head over heels. Thoma twists again and she feels another jolt as his shoulder bounces off the mountainside once, then twice in rapid succession. Her leg smacks into something solid and her ankle sings with enough pain to send white dots scattering across her vision, forcing a whimper from her breathless throat.
Thoma’s only response to being bounced around like a ragdoll is to tighten his grip on her, and she can’t do anything but bury her face into his chest and pray to the Seven that he survives her foolishness. There’s one final, solid thud that reverberates through his chest and into hers.
The impact jars his vice like hold, and she slips onto the grass beside him, gasping for the breath that had been driven from her lungs. The air finally stills. Her left ankle is on fire , and she curls instinctively around it as it throbs a relentless beat that travels all the way up and into her skull. Her right leg burns for an entirely different reason, and she can feel something warm and sticky painting the skin of her calf.
None of that matters right now, though. Ayaka pushes herself up, muscles aching spectacularly as she drags herself over to Thoma, studiously ignoring the way her lower injuries scream at her to stop moving.
Thoma’s flat on his back, breathing shallow and ragged as he draws air into his lungs. But his eyes are closed and his face has a stillness that lends itself to unconsciousness. With a trembling hand, Ayaka reaches over to grip his shoulder. She shakes it. Then shakes it again, harder, when the first yields no reaction.
“Thoma.” Her voice is dry and she swallows against the fear she can feel swelling in her throat. She tries again, louder. “Thoma!”
Nothing.
Not so much as a twitch from her shout.
Her heart is beating loud in her ears.
Oh merciful Archons, please… please wake up.
Ayaka hauls herself closer, unable to bite back a broken cry as the ground scrapes uncaringly against her wounds. She breathes through the pain, reaching over to place a trembling hand along the side of his face.
“Please,” Her eyes close, her voice a whisper, a prayer. “Please…”
She can’t lose him too.
Her wish is answered a moment later by a low moan.
Pale blue eyes fly open, searching Thoma’s face as his brow furrows. His chest rises as he tries to take a deeper breath but it hitches halfway up, and he curls inward, coughing roughly. It goes on for a short time and when it abates he groans out a long, “Oowwwww...”
Then Thoma’s eyes flutter open and it frees something deep within her chest, allowing Ayaka to breathe again. She lets her head tip forward to rest on the soft muscle between his chest and shoulder, relief washing over her in waves.
She feels him take a lighter breath, and his words are slightly slurred with confusion when he speaks.“...‘yaka?” She hums in the affirmative and Thoma takes another breath, then a third, his next words coming out stronger and more clear. “You okay?”
The question bounces around in her head for a moment as she considers it. One of her legs feels like it’s roasting over a fire, and- based on the slick wetness- is probably still bleeding. The other is swollen and throbbing nonstop. Her head is pounding with some combination of the aforementioned wounds and the fact she’d probably been concussed in the initial explosion.
But she is alive, and so is Thoma, and therefore...
“Yes.” She finally answers. “I’m okay.”