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Sara knew.
Somehow, she had always known.
From the very first moment she had stepped into the large, and imposing Tenshukaku, much different than the mountains she had known as a little girl, and laid eyes upon the Electro Archon, she knew something wasn’t quite right. From her acceptance into the Kujou Clan, to the glimpses of the figure she would catch during her harsh upbringing; from the ceremony officially recognizing her as general of the shogunate military, to the faint glance she managed before her consciousness slipped as she fell by the wretched Fatui woman, she knew.
She tried to reconcile with it. At first, she claimed she just couldn’t understand; her wild upbringing in the mountains and forests left little in the way of properly analyzing others. Neither when she hunted for food, nor when she tried so desperately to protect the village that she had called home was she ever granted the time to understand. She claimed that her fall down the mountain, that the abuse she’d receive for years that allowed for neither wing nor heart to heal, and that the distance she was forced to have as a child from those who should have been her peers all added up to her just simply not understanding. Not getting it.
One day, when she couldn’t have been more than eight, perhaps nine, she bore witness to the only execution that she’d remember for all of her days, the one that created her, the one that would latch itself onto her mind and guide her path for as long as her finite eternity would allow. It was an oni, strangely enough.
The oni woman had set fire to the garden by the steps to Tenshukaku, and, though a bold and strange crime, the only damage was to a small, immaculately kept sakura tree, nestled in the corner where stone wall met stone wall.
Clouds rolled for the week leading up to the woman’s arrest, and summoning before the great Archon, but thunder only broke when she was made to kneel in front of her, spitting vile, atrocious words as if they were a deadly poison. A poison that, somehow, seemed to reach the Archon because the woman was to be executed for something so small, and, no matter how hard she thought, Sara could make neither heads nor tails of it. Forced entry, destruction of property, crimes to be certain, but, as Masahito had explained on the walk, they have prisons, and labor camps, and that it took much more for one to normally receive this punishment, and that this was indeed strange. Maybe that’s why even Sara was allowed to view the spectacle, one of the only brief reprieves from her harsh training that would ever be given to her.
Without so much as a single word of the customary final rites, the Archon dove her hand high into her chest, and the air cracked and popped with the sound of electro. The smell of ozone was so thick that any onlooker could taste it in the back of their throat, and when the shimmering blade of the Musou Isshin was released, the sound of thunder was deafening, but no lightning had been seen; not by a single soul.
The oni woman stopped speaking then, glaring fiercely at the Archon, and as the blade was swung, a smile bloomed on her face. It frightened Sara. Only when her head rolled, did the rain start.
The Archon scanned the crowd for a moment, likely looking for dissenters among them, and Sara would swear for the rest of her life that she met her gaze. For an instant, a brief, eternal instant, Sara knew she could see pain and suffering and longing swirling in her eyes like a tempest, but it was buried beneath so many layers of distance that she could sparsely tell if it was even the Raiden Shogun herself that was feeling it.
Sara puked on the walk home, and she was never taken to an execution again.
She knew then she’d have to give up her current line of reasoning on the Inazuman Deity. No, it wasn’t just that she couldn’t understand; it was that, perhaps, no one could truly understand.
Her mind drifted off during her training the next day. It was archery training, the one she found the most peace in, yet, as she was lost in thought, she was anything but peaceful. She absentmindedly knocked bullseye after bullseye, at one point one of her fellow trainees even excitedly referred to her as ‘ the Inazuman Robin Hood ’ before receiving a harsh reprimand from their presiding officer. She didn’t care. Instead, she was lost in thought.
She thought maybe that’s just how gods are; maybe Archons, by their very nature, are unreadable by those with mortal minds and temporary souls. Yes, this was the line of thinking she’d have to settle on. This was the line of thinking that would carry her through her days, one she assumed she’d be at peace with until the moment she passed on from this world to the next.
Funny , she would later think. She was never at peace with it .
No, for how could she be? How could she make peace with such a halfhearted line of thinking, when she had momentarily grasped that fleeting understanding? How could she make peace when for months, until the tree turned victim was brought back to its former grace, the sun never once shone through the skies? How could she make peace when, as she was granted the role of general, she looked at the Archon, and on her face was the faintest of smiles? How could she make her peace when warmth bloomed in her chest when she saw a smile so small yet so radiant; one that looked both like it yearned to grow larger, but, at the same time, simply couldn’t, as if it wasn’t allowed to?
She couldn’t. She could barely even manage to trick herself into believing that she could. So, it came as no surprise to her when Yae Miko told her of her nation’s greatest secret.
She had spent two weeks unconscious, and one month awake, making an attempt at resting dutifully after her fight with the Harbinger. Her body may be weak, but her soul felt even weaker, as if it could shatter at any moment.
She had failed.
She had failed, and it was some outlander that had to pick up the pieces. Sara was sure the traveler didn’t mind; no, she had heard of her generous exploits from Monstadt and Liyue. That wasn’t what bothered her. What chewed away at her soul like a spider eating a fly was how weak she had been. She had been used, and lied to, and manipulated, and, in the moment she thought she could set things right, she was down before loosing even a single arrow. Her greatest crime, however, was failing in her duty to protect the Raiden Shogun; that’s what she thought, at least.
She assumed that with the eventual removal of her clan from the tri-commission, she too would be done away with. She was a Kujou after all, even if she no longer wished to be.
She was doing her best to avoid reopening her wounds when she was given word that her brother, Kujou Kamaji, was to be interim clan head, and that the punishment of the family was to be put on hold. When she was told the story of how it happened, she wanted to scream. She wanted to burn down this wretched estate, for how could her brother, her soft, weak, and flowery brother, have shown more courage and devotion to the Shogun than even she had done? How could she have let herself be used as she had? How could she possibly reconcile with the knowledge that the atrocities she had committed, and the lives she had taken had been for naught because she had failed?
That was the first time in thirteen years she allowed herself to cry, jet black wings unfurling and wrapping themselves around her, and the servants tiptoed cautiously anytime they had to walk past her room.
The next day, as she went over the tale again and again, that sinking feeling from her youth came back to her. That feeling she got the very first time she made her way into Inazuma City, and into Tenshukaku to meet the Archon. Something wasn’t right. Not a single one of the Shogun’s actions added up. The Shogun, as she knew her, would have slain the conspirators where they stood, Kamaji included, and nonchalantly made her way back to the palace. Ah, but mortals can never truly know an archon, can they? That’s what she tried to believe, at least. Her pondering only served to worsen her mood.
After another week, when she was well enough to travel, but not quite enough to train, she made the trek to the Grand Narukami Shrine.
It had been a while since her last visit, the civil war and her need for rest had kept her busy, but, when she finally arrived, she found it as empty as usual. Despite, or maybe because of, the sweltering heat, and the long, arduous walk that drained her more than it usually would, she was grateful. Normally, the Guuji clearing out the shrine for her arrival would make her quite anxious, but she was in no mood to speak to onlookers at the moment.
She stood in front of the Sacred Sakura Tree, hands clasped and head bowed in respect, and she begged for forgiveness as she prayed. She whispered her prayer like a chant, over and over and over again, pouring out confessions and apologies and vows of duty and oaths of servitude and every single thing she could manage to force out of herself. She felt a single tear slide down her cheek. She didn’t move to brush it off. She didn’t even flinch, as she felt more and more stream down her face, tasting the salt and watching as they fell onto the wooden platform that she stood upon. Her shoulders wanted to shake with her sobs, but even they refused to budge a single inch, as she poured her heart out to a god she thought would no longer wish to listen to her pleas.
She inhaled deeply, letting the scent of the sakura petals dance in her nose and the crisp air of Mt. Yougou fill her lungs. She exhaled equally as deep, measuring the capacity she had taken in, and ridding herself of all the air she could muster. She inhaled again. She exhaled again. She breathed as if the air at the shrine would finally be able to purify the poison she felt has been sitting in her chest for her entire life.
Only once her tears silenced, and her breathing normalized, did she hear a voice, and did she finally move.
“Ah, General Kujou,” Yae Miko, Guuji of the Grand Narukami Shrine, spoke. “Resting well, I hope?”
Sara unclasped her hands, running the back of one along her eyes before raising her head, not turning when she spoke. “Attempting to, Lady Guuji.”
She heard heels clicking against stone, and wooden planks bowing. She could hear a breath other than her own. She inhaled once more, exhaling in equal measure, and turned to look at the source. Yae Miko stood not but a few feet from her.
“That was quite the show,” the fox envoy’s voice carried its usual teasing tone as she spoke.
Sara clenched her jaw and her back somehow stiffened even more. She made no move to respond.
“Sorry, that was in poor taste.” Yae’s demeanor softened at that, the teasing lilt of her voice losing its edge. “It’s understandable, I believe. I imagine it’s been quite a rough time for you, hmm?”
Sara leaned forward, resting her forehead against the bark of the Sacred Sakura. “Indeed it has, Lady Guuji,” was her only response, though the tightness of her throat and weakness of her voice gave away more than she would’ve liked.
Yae sighed. “Oh please, as we are now, you are more than welcome to refer to me as Yae, Sara.”
Sara looked at the woman dumbly, taken aback for a moment. She couldn’t quite put her finger on what, but there was something markedly different about the fox. Other than a thick plastering of makeup around her neck, nothing seemed different in the way she was dressed; it was her demeanor that gave her pause. She carried herself lighter, as if she had just lost a burden she’d been carrying for several lifetimes, and her voice was softer than Sara had ever heard from the woman. When she glanced upwards and met her face, the look on the pink-haired fox was infectious with joy; despite how she may have tried to fight it back, she was uncharacteristically happy. She seemed radiant. If Sara didn’t know any better, she might have thought she was with child with the way she glowed.
Sara raised an eyebrow. “Well then, Yae, you seem in an awfully good mood. May I inquire as to why that is?”
Yae smirked. “Let’s just say everything that I had planned has come to a beautiful fruition.”
Right. Her plans.
The very same plans that left her a broken, bloody mess on the floor of Tenshukaku. The very same plans she knew that Yae must’ve known would go like this. With Sara, now a broken shell of what she once was, failing to do the one thing she had been striving for her whole life, and making a fool of herself in front of the person she- in front of her archon, her ruler.
And what did she stand to gain? Yae Miko was not a selfless person; Sara knew she had not done it for the suffering people of Inazuma. Why, then? She knew the woman never cared for her, but did her hatred for Sara truly run that deep?
She tried not to let the hurt show on her face, straightening her posture, and clearing her throat. She distanced herself, falling into their usual routine whenever she would visit.
“May I inquire about Her Excellency, the Raiden Shogun? I have yet to receive any summons since I sustained my injuries.”
For once, Yae Miko didn’t scowl and dismiss her. Instead, a playful smile crept onto her face, and Sara gulped.
“Indeed you may, Sara, and let me tell you,” Yae leaned in so her mouth hovered right next to Sara’s ear, and her voice became low and sultry, “she’s been wonderful .”
Despite the heavy mood she had been in, she found herself quite repulsed.
“Lady Yae, if you insist on making such offensive jokes, I’m going to have to excuse myself!” She huffed, stern and angry.
Wait.
She had heard murmurings about the Guuji visiting Tenshukaku for the first time in, well, ever, or, at the very least, for the first time in any mortal’s lifespan. She did also seem rather joyous, uncharacteristically so, and Sara had noticed earlier the thick layer of makeup on her neck.
Perhaps it wasn’t a joke , she thought.
She shook her head; it made no sense. No, she had to deny it. She had to reject the possibility, but she didn’t know if she could fool herself as her heart clenched in her chest, and pangs of jealousy rattled in her stomach.
Jealousy ? She thought. That doesn’t make sense .
“Oh, I assure you, it wasn’t a joke.”
“I’ll see myself out.” Sara’s response was short and harsh when she spoke. When she reached the bottom step of the platform, and found her feet on stone and sand, she heard a voice call after her.
“Wait.” Yae Miko spoke, her voice a rather strange tone when it reached Sara’s ears.
“What,” Sara replied, as she turned and glowered at the woman.
Yae sighed. “So difficult; you remind me of her, you know? Once upon a time.”
“Excuse me?”
“Listen, I know not whether it’s because I feel regretful for the role I cast upon you, or because I’ve simply taken somewhat of a liking to you, but there’s something you should know; some knowledge, sacred and old, that I wish to depart.”
Sara looked confused; never had she heard the other woman speak so kindly or so softly. It scared her. She did her best to stop it from showing on her face when she finally spoke.
“Explain yourself.”
“You might want to sit down for this.”
“I can take it.”
“The Raiden Shogun you know is not the electro archon. The true archon’s consciousness is housed within the Mussou Isshin; she is merely a puppet.”
She stumbled for a moment. A single moment, but a moment that felt like eternity.
Not a single bird sang; not a single bug buzzed. Sara could swear she could hear the sweat rolling down her forehead, and her eyelids close as she blinked. She could feel the pulsing energy of the Sacred Sakura as she glanced through the branches. She swallowed, and then she spoke.
“I know.” Yae gave her an inquisitive look before she continued. “Well, I didn’t, not exactly, but I did, in a sense.”
“Yes of course, how foolish of me. Of course the Shogun’s right hand would realize something was amiss.”
“It’s not like that.” This time, when Sara spoke, Yae froze. She seemed truly shocked. “From the very first moment I saw her, I could tell.”
“Interesting. You know, tengu do have a much longer lifespan than that of a normal mortal; perhaps this allowed you to glimpse further into her than others are able.”
Sara found the idea quite appealing, having something special that only she shared with the Shogun. It made her chest loosen, but she was quickly suffocated once more when Yae continued.
“Not that it matters, however. She’s a puppet, a weapon, nothing more than an emotionless husk.”
Sara had but an inkling of the truth, holding onto a small bead of hope that what Yae said would prove to be false. Even still, the words made her anger boil over. Her chest tightened, and she found it hard to breathe; the sun was beating down on her, but she shivered. When she spoke, it surprised even herself.
“You’d be surprised.”
“Excuse me?” Yae seemed to be doing her best not to get riled up.
“I’ll be leaving now, good evening Guuji Yae.”
She wanted to believe that Yae had been wrong. She wanted to believe that the Shogun she knew was more than just a puppet, more than just an empty vessel. She didn’t want to fool herself this time, however.
When Sara finally made her way back to her quarters in the Kujou estate, half flying half running, she collapsed on her bed. The wind was no longer there to wick away her tears, so they streamed out, unbidden. Sara laughed, thinking jokingly about how she’d cried more in the past few days then in over a decade.
She tried to settle in, but she was restless. She didn’t sleep much that night.
When she awoke, she was given notice of her summon to Tenshukaku. She thought it was about time, but what Yae had told her still ate at her. In the back of her mind, she contemplated not accepting the summons. What would be the worst that could happen? She was Sara Kujou, the most decorated and devoted general Inazuma had seen in centuries, surely it would be okay. She didn’t feel confident in her worth, though, and her father, hated though he may be, drilled her duty into her. The Shogun calls, so she must go.
When she arrived at Tenshukaku, stepping into the throne room, she caught a glance of the Raiden Shogun, before she knelt and lowered her head. She wore the warmest smile she had ever seen on her, though still much too muted and restrained to be noticed by many. The sight made her feel sick.
“You may rise.” The booming voice of the Shogun had a softness to it that Sara was sure only she could hear.
She stood at attention.
“Oh, please, at ease, soldier.”
Sara did her best to relax as she stood, a herculean task for the woman. When the Shogun remained silent, she spoke.
“I wanted to apologize profusely and beg for forgiveness for my failu-“
“Are your injuries healing okay?” The Shogun interrupted her; Sara nodded. “That’s good to hear; I was worried about you.” The Shogun made her way down the steps as she spoke, and Sara did her best not to turn away. She bit back the bile rising in her throat, as the puppet pretended to be concerned.
Was it the puppet ? Sara couldn’t tell. How could she, when she doubted she’d ever come face to face with the true archon, much less be able to know the difference?
As she listened to the Shogun drone on and on about something or something else, she only half listened. She paid enough attention to grasp what was being said, but her mind clearly wandered. She came out of her daze when she realized the Shogun had stopped speaking.
She was looking at her inquisitively, or as inquisitively as an emotionless puppet could, she surmised.
“You’re dismissed, General Kujou.”
Ah, there was the cold tone she was used to. This was definitely the puppet.
“Yes, Your Excellency,” Sara replied, bowing before taking her exit. She could feel the Shogun’s eyes on her back as she left.
She puked on the walk home, and, this time, she couldn’t blame it on an execution.
One month later, something strange happened. Sara’s wounds were all but healed, and her schedule was back to normal, rising early and working with a slavish devotion. Her dealings with the archon became less frequent, Sara was both thankful and upset at this, grateful she wouldn’t have to stop herself from suffocating near the puppet, but somehow longing, wishing for something more, something she didn’t know she had until she lost it. Not once during this time period did she meet the real archon, this much Sara could tell. Whether she was grateful or upset at this, though, she couldn’t say.
One morning, a morning scheduled to meet with the Shogun before departing for negotiations with Watatsumi, a servant came rushing into her quarters. The young man, no older than fifteen, told her that the Raiden Shogun hadn’t been seen since last night. The lacquerware statue she had been holding shattered against the floor.
She was missing.
—
The Raiden Shogun was fascinated.
Well, as fascinated as she could be, her emotions being kept under a virtual lock and key.
The Puppet, as she was often referred to by The One Within and Yae Miko, was hindered, restricted in a sense, and her sole duty was to achieve eternity. She had been at it for 500 years, and would continue to be for the next 500, and the 500 after that. That’s what she thought, at least. For all the time that she had ruled over Inazuma, she had not a single defect. Not a single flaw or fault, as she ruthlessly and single-mindedly pursued her eternity. She felt something shift in her when she met a young tengu, however.
She had met her prior, though, at the time, she took no note of her. Strange as it was that Takayuki wanted to adopt the feral looking young girl, she had no reason to disallow it. It stirred eternity neither one way or the other, so she simply let the mortals do as they wish. Though years later, when she watched as the diligent woman ascended the ranks of the shogunate military faster than anyone had in centuries, she could feel something stirring.
She could see the way the soldier looked at her, confused and attempting to understand. Why? For the first time since her creation, she was posed with a question she had no answer to. One that, perhaps, had no answer at all. Moreover, why did the woman’s quiet insistence stir her so? Why did the storms cease when she granted the tengu woman her first command at age nineteen, or when she was promoted to captain at age twenty one? Why did her lips upturn when she bestowed the title of general upon the woman at age twenty three, or when she was made to be her right hand soon after? Why did the sun shine through the clouds for the tengu woman? It worried her immensely.
When she noticed the flutter of her heart, or whatever the equivalent piece of her would be, she ran test after test, double and triple checking her diagnostics, but not an error was found. No erosion, no dangers or threats to eternity, nothing.
She meditated in her quarters one night, after her right hand had valiantly and effortlessly dispatched a dissenter in a duel before the throne. She wasn’t sure why the sheen of sweat on the woman’s forehead made her face barely a shade more pink, the most her constraints would allow, or why the flexed shoulders as she wielded her bow made her breath microscopically heavier. She had no need to sleep, of course, but she would often retire to her room to meditate, to update The One Within on the status of her eternity. They never spoke beyond that, however, she was a puppet, a weapon, what could she even attempt to converse about?
After her short briefing, she sat, hovering just above the ground with one leg crossed over the other, and attempted to clear her mind. Her attempts were unsuccessful, however, and her mind drifted back to the duel. The toned form of the woman known as her right hand, the subtle flexing of muscles and dripping of sweat, the ease with which her body moved. She thought about a time much before then, when the inquisitive gaze of the general would create a searing heat in the pit of her stomach.
That evening, she did something she had never done in her centuries of existence. She then erased her memories of that night, and, once again, she was back to normal. Any emotions she may have had, faint as they were allowed to be, were once again stuffed in a closet and shut behind lock and key. Her only duty was to eternity.
Later on, she once again stumbled. She could feel her constraints now more than ever, as she watched the body of the general fall to the floor of Tenshukaku. She knew not why, but she could feel her programming suffocating her like a rope against her throat. She knew, deep in her mind, locked in a part that she’d never be able to access, she wanted to slay the vile Fatui woman, then and there. This, however, was unacceptable; challenging Inazuma’s relationship with another archon was far from the correct path to eternity.
She saw the back of the bloody, unconscious tengu rise and fall, and her ire subsided.
That was the most she had ever felt. In her centuries of existence, never had she felt the restraining nature of her programming more than then. Never had it felt suffocating to simply follow the path of eternity. Why? Why now? Why did she feel so much? She was a puppet; what could her goals possibly lead to other than the eternity of The One Within?
She was pulled from her ruminations when a short, blonde woman clad in white and blue burst into the throne room. She was elated when the woman challenged the Harbinger to a duel before the throne, and, as she wielded the Mussou Isshin to strike her down, a storm brewed in her eyes, closer to the surface than ever before, threatening to finally spill over.
The tempest of emotions she felt didn’t subside until after she had personally carried her brave general to the healing ward of the palace. She stood stock still as the finest doctor they had treated her, and it wasn’t until they carted her away had she realized she had been holding onto her hand. She was trembling.
She made her way to her quarters, and once again meditated. She calmed her systems, and ran diagnostics. She soothed the fiery spirit that had been wrapped in chains for centuries upon end, and eased herself back into the comfort of her programming. She was a puppet, after all, a weapon. She had no need of these feelings.
It had been seven weeks since then, and, much to her dismay, they were weeks filled with change. The One Within, Ei, as those closest referred to her, was no longer meditating. She’d come and go, taking over the body of the puppet as she pleased, doing everything but doing nothing with it. She’d make an attempt to oversee the tri-commission, or she’d roam the streets with the blonde haired woman from before, or she’d spend evenings and mornings with Yae Miko, those especially the Shogun did her best to tune out.
It had been seven weeks, and she was finally given notice that the general so bravely injured was back on her feet. The doctor residing over the woman had told her she was able to move on her own now, and she had heard that the general had gone to visit the shrine.
Once again, she felt her emotions shaking the chains of what could only be considered her soul, but this time the restraints did naught but suppress them somewhat. There was no choking sensation; there was no locking of joints or stiffness of muscles. She thought it strange, but she didn’t wish to consider it much. The next morning, she sent for the general.
As she waited in the throne room for the general to arrive, she beamed, or, rather, she got as close as she could get. In reality, all that was shown on her face was the absence of her usual scowl, perhaps her eyebrows slightly softer, perhaps her lips slightly upturned. For the Shogun, however, it felt a miraculous difference.
When the tengu woman finally arrived, she remained silent. She couldn’t tell what expression she wore, as she dropped to one knee, but what she did see was the crinkle of a nose, and the downturning of eyebrows. It confused her, to say the least.
“You may rise,” she commanded, putting as much softness in her voice as she was allowed.
When the general stood, upright and at attention, she might have chuckled, had she been capable of doing so.
“Oh, please, at ease, soldier.”
The woman in front of her loosened her posture, and she could tell she was doing her best not to fidget. She didn’t speak, however, waiting instead for the tengu warrior to voice whatever it was that she wished.
“I wanted to apologize profusely and beg for forgiveness for my failu-“
“Are your injuries healing okay?” She interrupted the woman, wanting not to hear apologies but to know that she was safe. The general nodded. “That’s good to hear; I was worried about you.”
She walked down the steps in front of the throne as she spoke, and, as she made her approach, she could see the general clenching her jaw, and watched as her eyes glazed over.
She spoke of her worry to her, light and brief, for surely being concerned for Inazuma’s finest general in history was well within the correct path to eternity. She asked how her injuries felt, or if she had a productive trip to the shrine. All she got in response were nods and affirmations. It was rather disappointing.
Her tone flattened as she spoke of her next assignments; the general was to personally oversee negotiations with Watatsumi, working to repair relations and establish trust. She also assigned an easier patrol route, urging the woman to take things slow as she eased back into her work, and reminded her of the recruits she, as general, had to speak to at least once. Years working with the woman had taught her that this was her least favorite, however.
She stopped speaking, and, for a moment, the woman in front of her stood completely still, jaw clenched and eyes glazed, and, when she came to, the sight was entirely too disheartening. She was a puppet, however; she couldn’t let the whims of one injured woman faze her.
“You’re dismissed, General Kujou,” she said, her voice once again falling into the robotic tone that had long been her default.
“Yes, Your Excellency,” and, with a bow, the woman walked off. She hadn’t realized she had been staring, but, when the general finally exited the throne room, her eyes were shoulder level on the massive door.
That night, without her knowledge, a vicious storm brewed over the shoreline.
Another month had passed, and the Shogun was stuck.
She was stuck meditating in the Plane of Euthymia, the true archon, Ei, having taken over their shared body on one of her whims. It frustrated her. The One Within no longer remained within, and, though she too was supposed to be one part of eternity, her whims and flights of fancy had become no longer ignorable.
Perhaps that was harsh, she knew the archon was doing what she believed was her best for Inazuma, but that’s how she was programmed. She was created to be a harsh, unbiased judge, the forceful guiding hand of eternity, and, though she wished not to wrest control from her creator, there wasn’t much that she could do. She had hoped, once, to see her as a friend, but she was merely a puppet, and the strings that made her dance now twisted to the tune of erosion.
She watched the outside world intently, as the goddess with whom she shared her form ran around who knows where, doing who knows what with the blonde haired woman who had bested the Harbinger. Her programming screamed inside her skin, as she watched. What she was doing was causing change, and change was the enemy of eternity. As the puppet that she was meant to be, she fought against it. She had to, for she had no choice.
The body they shared was, by all rights, hers, and so she did what she could to restrict the archon. She slowed her movements, limited the flow of electro, even going so far as to freeze her in her tracks as she dueled with Rifthounds. It pained her to do so; somewhere deep in the soul that she was never meant to have, it hurt her to have to fight for control against her creator. It stirred emotions in her she never knew she was even capable of feeling, likely locked away beneath layers and layers of restrictions so that nothing could deter her from her eternity. She was supposed to be a perfect being, after all, so, once again, she tucked them away. She could never have emotions; she could never erode.
When their shared form was brought before a torii gate beneath the Grand Narukami Shrine, she knew she had gotten her attention.
Before the form entered, however, the Shogun was ripped from the Plane of Euthymia, and cast into a realm unbeknownst to her. A wide expanse of the lightest blue as far as the eye could see, it was a realm that overflowed with the energy of joy and hope, much unlike the Plane of Euthymia she had been subject to previously. She recognized it, after a moment. Though she never had the chance to know Raiden Makoto, the Shogun knew more of her than one would expect. She could feel the mind of the archon, and she knew the pain she had experienced at her loss.
In an instant, the form of said archon appeared in front of her, accompanied by the blonde traveler she had been with beforehand. They spoke briefly. They spoke of eternity, and change, and erosion. They spoke of emotions, though she mentioned not how she wished she could express them, for an unchanging eternity has no place for them, that’s why she was designed as such. Ei disagreed, she claimed it was her grief that led her to such conclusions, and she would prove that change would always accompany eternity. After the first of their traded blows, the traveler was forced out of Makoto’s realm, and they were finally alone.
In real time, their duel lasted but a week, likely a concerning week for those who served the Shogun, but only a week nonetheless. For the two of them, however, it would be untold centuries before either would re-emerge. After the first few decades, they lost count. At first, they had exchanged words with their blows, treatises on the life of an immortal and what a true eternity should look like, for a moment Ei even seemed regretful for having placed the restrictions she did on the Shogun, the shackles on her soul, but, after they lost count of the years, so too did they lose track of their words.
All around them, the air boiled with the energy of electro, but neither could tell. They were pure manifestations of thunder, a light hum of electric was nothing to them. Steel clashed against steel for time immemorial, the deafening clang of blows eventually fading into pure silence in the ears of those who dueled. White noise, or something close. Every single time it seemed as if one of them was broaching upon victory, the other surged back in response, power and determination flowing through their veins, if they were even believed to have any. Sweat would glide down their forms, slicking the floor and making the air taste like salt as it evaporated. The lightning turned to fire in the volatile atmosphere, and a storm of thunder and flames roared around them. Neither of their kimonos came out singed, however; their form had been perfect, their determinations resolute.
After only Celestia herself knows how long, there was a ripple, a shift in the plane they had spent so long in, and, after another moment, the traveler they had sent off so long ago reappeared. They were shocked, of course, though the Shogun didn’t show it. How could they not be? They had no way of knowing how little time had truly passed.
This would be the end, it seemed. The restraints of her programming were finally lifting, acknowledging the resolute will of the archon. The archon herself seemed grateful for the test, acknowledging the Shogun as well, though she elected not to mention how her restraints had been wearing down, how her emotions had been becoming more and more clear and true. Maybe she simply didn’t realize, after all, even the Shogun herself had made no note of it.
This was to be their final duel. The Shogun transformed herself into the overwhelming, and oppressing form she so rarely had to use, but once again she would lose. She had not won a single one of their exchanges over their time in this realm. Normally, that would frustrate, but, unknowing and with the shackles of her soul being loosened, she found herself delighted with it, seeing hope for herself, perhaps.
This was to be their new eternity, their new goal. Ei and the Shogun would once again walk forward to the future together, with a newly redefined motivation. At the last moment of their discussion, Ei said something that made her pause. She told her she would no longer be just a weapon, or a puppet. This confused her, but she did her best to deflect, claiming to want to spar again in the future, though even this betrayed her intention, as it proved that the robotic Shogun wanted. It proved once and for all that she wanted, and needed, and felt, and, above all, it was proof, there in her hands, that she has a soul. She had always had a soul.
Throughout their entire duel, not once had she wavered, but now, standing in silence as the last remnants of Makoto’s consciousness addressed Ei, she was trembling. She felt her whole body shake, as Ei was granted something sacred, something special: the seed that would one day sprout into the Sacred Sakura. Her chest heaved as they sifted through a shattered time, and perhaps her mind wandered to something, or someone , sacred and special to her. She did her best to remove the thought, though; now was not the time.
After the traveler who had now bore witness had made her exit, the Shogun was soon to follow. She froze, however, when a voice called out to her.
“Wait a moment,” the archon spoke. “I wanted to apologize.”
“You have no need to,” was her only response, though the heat of battle had been replaced by a chill that ran down her spine.
“I have treated you so poorly these centuries. You may not have seen it, but, even before now, you were your own person. It was wrong of me to force these shackles on you, especially when yo-“
Her face stiffened. “Even now, changed though I may be, I remain a puppet, serving your will.”
“You may carry out my ideas of eternity, but you are you. I’ve seen it. I’ve seen it in the food you eat, much different to the tastes of myself, and I've seen it in the company you keep. Most of all, I’ve seen it in the way that you look at her.”
Her face went completely red, showing the true breadth of her emotions now that her restrictions had been loosened. Ei continued.
“And I’m seeing it now in the way I need not even speak the name of the one I refer to for you to know exactly who it is.”
For the first time in her centuries of existence, a single tear rolled down her cheek. No, not a fleck of golden blood, nor a drop of sweat, neither of these were seen on her form at the moment. A tear, a salty, vicious tear, tore its path down her face, and she stood in silence as she listened to it fall onto the floor, the echo reverberating for what seemed to be a true eternity.
She chuckled, now that she could. A sobering thought, for no longer did she feel the oppressive weight of the chains on her soul, nor did the prospect of even having a soul frighten her anymore. She was unbidden in her display, a storm of tears flowed upon her face, and she doubled over in laughter. She was free, and, as she thought of her freedom, she knew exactly what she would do with it.
This was her catharsis.
After letting Ei speak with Yae Miko and the traveler, the Shogun once again resumed control of their form, and made her way back to Tenshukaku. The walk was nightmarish, seeming to stretch on longer than even the previous duel, for even warping would’ve been much too slow.
When she arrived, much after the sun had set and most sensible people would be in their homes, she found Kujou Sara pacing in the throne room. She had never been sensible; the Shogun was never more thankful for that fact.
“Sara!” She shouted, the first time she had ever been able to address the general by her first name alone.
Sara’s head whipped around at lightning speed. “Your Excellency! I-“
She cut her off. Before Sara could finish speaking, she was on the woman in a flash, lips clashing against lips and hands tenderly finding their way to her cheeks. She kissed her with a passion, more passion than she had ever even been able to put into anything before. When she removed herself, she was breathless; that, too, was a new sensation.
Sara looked at her stunned, her face flushed red and her eyebrows furrowed. It took her a long moment before she could speak.
“Is this the puppet, or is this the archon?” It came as a shock to the Shogun that she even knew, but somehow it made much more sense than it should’ve.
“I am a puppet no longer,” she declared, letting her voice fill with the true depth of her emotions.
Sara didn’t speak. The look on her face was somehow both flustered and confused and the Shogun was hoping the disgust she had glimpsed earlier would refuse to show itself. After a moment, she removed her hands from Sara’s face, and then spoke.
“Is this something you want?” Her voice was tinged with fear, another new emotion, because never had she even considered what Sara might think. She had assumed the looks from years prior had meant the same for Sara as they had for her, but perhaps the shackles had been on too tight, and she had only seen what she wished to.
Before she could contemplate any further, Sara’s hands were in her hair and she pulled her in for a kiss filled with as much passion as she herself had poured into the first. They were like that for an eternity, hands in her hair and her arms around Sara’s hips as their lips and tongues explored their newfound territory. She tasted like onigiri, something the Shogun knew that Sara favored. When they broke, Sara being the one to pull back, their eyes locked and they looked deep into the souls of the other.
“Do I want this? I think I have my entire life.”
That night, the sky over Inazuma was finally at peace.