Work Text:
The first time Heizou met the young man, he was tactfully avoiding Sango and the mind-numbingly boring investigations she had lined up for him. The latest of which involved chasing the cats about town to take stock of the number of strays in Inazuma City. Heizou hadn’t even pretended he was going to do such a thing. He was more of a dog person anyway.
He had saluted her, however, in that mocking way that often had her pinning his arm behind his back and shoving him out the door of the Detective Agency, and moseyed down the street just long enough for her to turn her back–and then he was gone. He gathered up two jars of cheap sake, thrill running through him at finally being of age to buy it himself, and then headed east to where the crowds were densest near the Shogunate's tower. He found a branch to perch himself on in a sakura tree and idled the day away.
Heizou adored people watching. Of all his pastimes, sitting himself down in a crowd to stare at the pedestrians was by far the most entertaining. People were fascinating. So often, people followed routines, took after one another, were so easy to read for how like pack-animals they were. Their body language spoke volumes, and Heizou had the gift of intuition when it came to pegging someone down for their personality, their job, their ambitions, with just a single glance. And where he could not make these assumptions, he could spin wild and fascinating tales about someone’s life, oftentimes calling out truths amidst his storytelling even if it was unintentional.
One jar of sake down, and the sun passing its noon position in the sky, Heizou leaned merrily against the trunk of the tree, swinging his legs over the branch. A woman passed by with a screaming toddler. Her clothes were rather plain for how well the toddler was dressed: a nanny caring for a child of a lesser Kamisato clan. Two teens ran by, giggling as they tittered at each other, kicking up leaves and rock as they passed: new Dendro and Geo Vision holders, both hailing from Watatsumi, based on their accents. A dog followed after a child, whose hands were piled full of groceries: he would make it across the bridge before the bag wore out and the dog would surely make off with the sausage.
Heizou moved his attention to the sky, light filtering in through the cherry blossoms of the tree. He cracked open the second jar. Bliss, if he ever knew it.
A shock of static electricity fizzled over his skin.
The crackles sent a slight chill up his spine and he jerked upward, whipping his head down towards the street. The crowds had dispersed somewhat, but what caught his eye was a figure clad in purple gliding down from the high steps of the Shogunate's tower, a large and ornate sandogasa obscuring his face. Trinkets and silks flowed from the brim of the hat, creating a divine silhouette. Heizou sat up a little straighter, craning around the tree to get a better look at the fellow. Most citizens of Inazuma had not the money to pay for such extravagant silks or nicknacks to outfit themselves with. It drew attention, and as the figure stepped onto the main road, the dwindling crowds parted, like a koi swimming through a team of minnow.
Perhaps it was the alcohol, and perhaps it was Heizou’s simple and good mood, but the approaching form intrigued him. Rarely did someone pass that he could not immediately pin down and he felt himself thrill at the possibilities this young man’s life held.
An Electro Vision wielder, Heizou mentally noted, and held himself high for it, by the state of his dress. He had no weapon on him that Heizou could see–catalyst user, then? He could not decide whether this man was an Outlander or not, his gate and presence pointed towards a foreigner, or at least someone who had spent time away from usual Inazuman customs; however his wardrobe was certainly of Inazuman inspiration. Even if some certain stitching looked to have been modified by foreign hands.
He wanted to know more.
“Ho, there!” He called, scooting on the branch to wave down as the young man approached. The figure stopped in his tracks, just under where Heizou was sitting, large hat still covering any expression for Heizou to analyze. “Care for a drink?”
He shook the jar, noisily sloshing around the sake to get the man’s attention.
But when he had it, Heizou froze on the spot.
Slowly, sharp blue eyes turned up to him, and Heizou could not help but suddenly regret his invitation. Something like fizzling lightning creeped through his veins as this young man–younger than Heizou had been expecting–eyed him over, standing as still as a porcelain doll as he made his assessments about Heizou. Depending on how the light filtered through the sakura blossoms, his face seemed to morph from painfully youthful to something archaic and withered. It must have just been a play of shadows, the way the brim of his hat still concealed much of his body language, but Heizou abruptly, and unexplainably, felt out of his depth.
A creeping sense of dread befell him further and further. Carefully, without a breath, he lowered the jar in his hand, beginning to open his mouth to take it back. To send this man on his way.
But a smile quirked onto the man’s face and the trance was broken.
It was as if it had never happened. The cold static in his nerves vanished without a trace and Heizou had to question just how much the sake was affecting him.
He shook it off.
“You’ve caught me at a good time,” the young man said, amicably. “I don’t usually have time for much chitchat…” he took off his sandogasa in a one fell motion, revealing a head of dark purple hair. “But my mission here was rather a success, so I suppose a drink wouldn’t hurt.”
“A mission, eh?” Heizou tossed back, warmth returning to his limbs and curiosity taking the reins once more over his numb mind. “I would love to hear about it!” He swung down to the lower branches, hopping gracefully to the ground with his Vision kicking up the wind, softening his landing. The young man’s eyes traveled down to the Anemo Vision at his hip, before settling back on Heizou’s face.
Closer now, this man still held an air of something unique–not quite off putting, not as terrifying as the cold dread that had washed over Heizou just moments before, but certainly this was a man with an interesting background. The stranger held himself perfectly straight and gestured to a nearby bench. Heizou took the lead, slipping onto the bench and holding out the jar.
“Name’s Shikanoin Heizou,” he told the man as he settled next to him, taking a small sip of the sake.
“A pleasure, Shikanoin Heizou,” he responded, scrunching up his nose slightly at the sake. “This tastes…”
“Like acid? I haven’t really figured out what the good stuff is yet,” Heizou admitted. “But it gets the job done.”
“I was going to say it tastes like piss,” he held the jar back to Heizou, eyeing it as though it had personally offended him. It likely had. He wiped his mouth with the back of his wrist. “Kunikuzushi.”
Definitely of Inazuman origin, then, Heizou confirmed for himself. “Well, the pleasure is all mine, Kunikuzushi,” he said. He tipped the jar to his mouth, downing another mouthful of the terrible sake. “I suppose you won’t tell me why you feel the need to celebrate your mission success with a complete stranger?”
“You suppose right,” Kunikuzushi told him, beckoning at the jar with a finger. Heizou gladly handed it back over. He took another trepidatious sip. “Let’s just say things are falling into place rather nicely at the moment.” A smirk wound its way onto his face. That expression, regardless of who it was on, usually meant trouble. It only made Heizou more intrigued.
An Inazuman with foreign ties, here in the nation’s capital to stir up a problem. The perfect setting for a mystery, really.
“Well then, cheers to whatever mischief you’re up to,” Heizou probed, earning him a cocked eyebrow.
Kunikuzushi’s eyes fell over him again, in that same assessing manner as before. “You’re not quite as stupid as the rest of the citizens on these islands, are you?”
Heizou hummed at that, taking the jar back once more. “I’ve had worse compliments, I suppose. If you can call that a compliment.”
Laughing a little, Kunikuzushi waved him off. A fake laugh. He turned his head to observe the passing Inazumans, avoiding eye contact. “Apologies, I’m forgetting my manners. I only mean that most of Inazuma is so preoccupied with their own lives. Eternity is a tricky business. One is born, they live, and they die and nothing shifts around them. When nothing changes the status quo, people will often forget there is a world outside of their own heads.” He turned back to Heizou, “It’s rather refreshing to meet someone who can pick out mischief so easily.”
Heizou wished for a pen and paper to write that down and analyze it until the parchment was worn through. “And will your mischief be changing the status quo?”
“Rather a direct question,” Kunikuzushi leaned back against the bench, crossing a leg over the other.
“Rather a direct deflection.”
They held each others’ gaze for a long moment. Heizou’s fingertips tingled, in a way that they always did when a new case presented itself. This man’s entire aura felt like one big puzzle, every word from his mouth a knotted string to untangle. Hook, line, and sinker, Heizou wanted more.
Kunikuzushi barked out a quick laugh suddenly, shaking his head. He stood, flipping his hat back onto his head, the bells and chimes dangling from it all tinkling sweetly against each other. “Thank you for the chat,” he bowed his head, honestly. “And for the shit liquor.”
“I’d love to ask where you’re headed, but that feels like it’d be cheating.”
“Cheating?” A devious smile, a hint of teeth. “Are we playing a game?”
“We’ve been playing it, Kunikuzushi,” Heizou flashed him a mirrored smirk back. He had no luggage with him, not a rucksack nor weapon. Only the Electro Vision at his hip. He must be staying within the city until he was ready to move out, which meant he was traveling off of Narukami. It narrowed down where this man was headed significantly.
Kunikuzushi did not respond to that, though he did not have to. His eyes narrowed, his chin turned upward. If Heizou wanted a game, he’d play it. And this man thought he could win.
He took a few steps back down the street leaving Heizou on the bench to watch him depart, before turning slightly, just enough for Heizou to see a hint of his sharp blue eyes.
“Crane’s Reign Aged Sake,” he said. “If you’re going to drink, at least do it right.”
Heizou made a mental note of that, eyes on the purple clad figure as he slowly blended into the crowd and vanished from sight.
–
Two days later, the Vision Hunt Decree was announced.
–
The welcome Heizou received in Watatsumi was not a kind one.
“Sightseeing?” Sangonomiya Kokomi repeated, something between confusion and distrust etched into her petite features. “In the middle of a war? Dressed like that?”
“Your Excellency,” her watchdog stepped up to her side. “Please allow me to escort this Tenryou cad off the island personally! He’s clearly up to no good. I’ll see to it he never steps foot on Resistance ground again—“
Kokomi held up a hand and Gorou immediately snapped his mouth shut, falling silent. Heizou grinned and couldn’t help but needle.
“Neat trick! Does he shake and roll over, too?”
“Why you!” Gorou growled, fists clenching and his ears flattening against his head. “Your Excellency—”
But Kokomi kept her eyes on Heizou, cutting him off again. “Shikanoin Heizou,” she addressed him. She was so soft spoken, it was difficult to believe she was in command of a military effort. And yet, every time she opened her mouth, a hush wore over her soldiers, drawing all eyes on her. She was another that Heizou would have loved to piece together like a puzzle. “Your opposition to the Vision Hunt Decree has not gone unnoticed by the Resistance. We know in doing so, you’ve painted rather a target on your back. And yet…” She narrowed her eyes. “You’ve not terminated your employment with the Tenryou Commission. And you come to Watatsumi amidst turmoil and war, wearing the official Tenryou uniform. Surely you understand our hesitancy.”
“Of course!” In fact, had he not immediately garnered the Resistance’s attention and he’d been allowed to freely roam the island, this plan would have been a wash. Luckily, war made for predictability. “Like I said, I really am here just for a bit of sightseeing. Take it from someone who’s lived most of their life in Inazuma City: there’s nothing like good old fashioned diplomatic turmoil to get someone to expand their horizons.”
Kokomi chewed it over for a minute, while the soldiers on either side of her stood poised to act on any order she may give. Gorou continued his low growling.
Finally, her shoulders relaxed. “Very well. With your history of opposition to the Tenryou Commission’s decrees, I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt.” She turned to one of her soldiers and requested two names. “I hope you will not think too ill of me, however, for deploying two of my men to escort you on your… sightseeing.”
Heizou smiled, all sharp teeth. “Miss Sangonomiya, I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
As promised, he was tailed night and day by two of the Resistance soldiers.
He quickly became the talk of the island, sauntering about in his Tenryou uniform, lazing about the military base, and doing his level best to keep all eyes on him. It wasn’t difficult, given the atmosphere of strife against the Tenryou Commission. Most gave him a wide berth, whispering behind their hands as he passed. Few took it upon themselves to seek him out, directly asking what it was he was there for. So long as he held attention, he didn’t mind which way the chips fell.
He also did his level best to stay on Kokomi’s good side. It would not do him well to be kicked off the island prematurely. Once or twice, he had accidentally lost the soldiers who were babysitting him, as he hopped about the sides of Watatsumi’s cavernous walls with the help of his Vision. It was usually unintentional. But he dutifully returned to camp to inform Kokomi herself that the men had fallen behind and that he was happy to await their return before he set off once more.
The truth was—well, in a way, he was there to sightsee. That in itself wasn’t exactly a lie. But the good General had been entirely correct in his assumption that Heizou had other motives at play.
The Tenryou Commission had been exempt in handing over their Visions until the rest had all been confiscated. However, with the threat of freedom being taken, it was no surprise that Heizou grew more and more enraged over the decree. And in turn, he grew more and more vocal. The decree was a mess, sending the entire nation into strife. While the Shogun’s declaration had been that the new law would hold Inazuma to a higher level, taking away the power of those who dared oppose her and locking the outside world away, Heizou couldn’t help but feel this was doing the very opposite. This was not a means to eternity, it was a means to an end that Heizou was unsure of yet. It, however, had a certain someone’s name written all over it, no matter how short lived Heizou’s conversation had been with him. His hunches were always correct. On top of this, rumors of false Visions had begun surfacing, strange and powerful devices that were supposedly aiding the Resistance in Watatsumi. Yet another form of mischief, Heizou thought.
As the detective began opposing the Tenryou Commission, loudly and boisterously, Kujou Sara herself paid him a visit at the Agency.
“Either you get your act together and make yourself useful,” she had said, glowering down at him. “Or I’ll be taking your Vision on the next raid of the city.”
“I’ll think about it.”
And he had thought about it. He thought long and hard about it for exactly two seconds before he got the hell out of dodge, hopping a boat headed anywhere but Narukami. It had been Sango’s idea, initially. For all she complained about him, she had arranged passage on the ship, and told him to travel for a bit; to see some of Inazuma and keep a low profile until things calmed down. She would deal with Kujou Sara in the meantime, and find a way to keep him safe.
Of course, waltzing about Watatsumi and being a right thorn in the Resistance’s side likely wasn’t what she had had in mind when she said low profile. But while he wanted the Tenryou Commission’s law enforcers to lose interest in him, he also had a case of his own he needed to continue investigating. It all lined up rather well.
After a few days on Resistance ground, his babysitters grew bored of him. He climbed to the highest point of Watatsumi to see the whole of the opalescent island, he pointed out crabs, detailing how different they were from the ones on Narukami, and he bummed about the beaches, watching the sun rise and set. In the evenings, he poked around the Resistance camps, putting himself and his Tenryou garb on full display, becoming the sole topic of every conversation had by any two recruits.
Twice, he was escorted out of Kokomi’s palace by the General, after he had made himself at home in the war chamber, listing off the things he did that day, much to the exasperation and vague entertainment of the Divine Priestess herself.
“Whatever it is you’re up to, just go do it,” Gorou had told him, still untrusting, but at a breaking point, simply wanting the young detective out of his hair.
It was on the third day that Kokomi finally released the soldiers from Heizou’s side, seeming to accept that he was not there on any Tenryou business, and really was there for his own pleasure. It had been just enough time.
All he had to do at that point was wait.
The mid afternoon was always humid, even so near the cool mist lingering over the ocean. Heizou had taken his newfound freedom and planted himself on a remote beach to the northeast, finally shucking the Tenryou uniform and donning his usual shorts, tying his kimono around his waist. The humid air had him kicking away his shoes wading into the water and there, with the natural wind washing about him, he slowly went through the motions of his martial arts.
His catalyst sat abandoned on the beach with the rest of his gear. It amplified the powers allowed from his Anemo Vision, of course, but when it came down to it, Heizou far preferred using his fists to fight. It was such a direct fighting style, a passion he held even before he was gifted his Vision. He could have chosen a sword or a bow, but he couldn’t help but think “Why bother?” when a swift kick could charge as much Anemo energy as a blade or an arrow.
He enjoyed the physicality of it and it was an art he often needed to keep honed.
The practice was second nature to him: upperhook, roundhouse, roundhouse, left strike, once to the throat, once to the floating ribs. He knew how to use someone’s body against them, what bones to crack and which organs would quickly collapse under a well placed palm strike. It also looked rad, but he didn’t often present his unorthodox Vision usage in such a way.
Right jab, sweep, three-sixty roundhouse. Nose bone. Base of the skull. Repeat.
His feet splashed in the water as he fought his nonexistent opponent. Wind kicked up and swirled about him with each hit, ruffling through his maroon hair and cooling him in the muggy weather. This was second only to people-watching, he thought as his mind traveled back to the objective at hand. In fact, if could he find a way to analyze someone while going hand to hand in combat—now that would be the very height of Heizou’s bliss. Tragically, more often than not, it was a hilichurl on the receiving end of his Anemo charged strikes.
Life never failed to keep things interesting, however.
From the shore, slow, sarcastic clapping had him whipping around, the air catching him before the movement sent him right into the ocean. He raised a hand to block out the sun from his eyes, feeling his lungs forget a breath as he recognized that painfully straight posture.
Kunikuzushi was standing halfway on the shore, hat shadowing his face from the bright sun, clapping condescendingly as he watched Heizou’s routine.
Finally.
“Shikanoin Heizou,” he called. “It’s about time.”
“I could say the same,” Heizou retorted, his heart speeding up in anticipation.
Even from the distance, he could hear Kunikuzushi tut, placing his hands on his hips. “Is that so? You know, I did some digging last we met,” he paused. A pause that was too long and too irritating, considering the several months since their first meeting. Heizou wanted answers. “For a renowned detective, it sure took you a while to make it here.”
Said renowned detective finally began wading in from the water. He crossed his arms. “Are you so sure I was looking for you this whole time? How’s that mischief going for you?”
Kunikuzushi huffed a bit of a laugh, standing his ground as Heizou approached. “It was going rather well. At least until every single person on this island began talking about you. It’s really messing up my data, Shikanoin.”
“Got your attention, though,” Heizou winked at him, and Kunikuzushi’s smile immediately dropped, a distasteful scowl planting itself on his face. It was perhaps the first expression Heizou had seen on him that looked genuine. “So you are behind the fake Visions, then? I had a hunch, but I never had any solid proof.” He stepped onto the dry sand, closing their distance, second by second.
“We’ve only met once. You have no solid proof of anything.”
“If you’ve done your digging, then you should know I’ve never needed solid proof to be right,” he stopped a few meters from the other man, cocking his head. “Besides, you’ve made this whole thing interesting. If I hadn’t met you all those months ago, I would have had very little to do right now. You wouldn’t believe the mess the Vision Hunt Decree has made… Hah, or maybe you would! But see, you gave me quite the head-start!” He chewed on the inside of his cheek, before adding, “The sake was good, by the way.”
“...You talk too much.”
“Ain’t the first time someone’s told me that.”
Reaching into his overcoat, Kunikuzushi dragged out a book. “Will this be the first time someone uses a catalyst to beat you over the head?” Ah, Heizou couldn’t help the excitement of having been right. This troublemaker was a catalyst user as well.
“Shockingly, no.” Heizou dropped his stance, raising his hands, gearing up for a fight. How dreams do come true. “Comes with the territory of preferring no weapon at all.”
Kunikuzushi’s eyes glanced back to where Heizou’s belongings were scattered about. He hummed, lean fingers tightening over his book, as though he really was preparing to use it as a blunt weapon. “I hate to end this so quickly, given how much work you put into finding me,” he started, sharp eyes locking onto Heizou’s. “But I’m getting bored.”
“You’re not about to be.”
“You’re getting too cocky,” Kunikuzushi told him, and then he was rushing at Heizou.
The tome opened in crush of Electro power, and he blinked out of existence for a split moment, reappearing face to face with Heizou.
He jumped backwards, narrowly avoiding a shock of lightning that struck down between them, kicking up sand and rock, cratering at their feet. The power of it took Heizou by surprise and his heel caught in the sand. Kunikuzushi was on him in a heartbeat, just a breath away, before he struck again, a pulse of purple static exploding from his hand.
Heizou dodged, just barely, sliding away in time to put a meter between them, before drawing on his Vision, charging wind to his fist as he wound back. Kunikuzushi kept close, Electro crackling at his catalyst. His eyes jumped to Heizou’s stance and those indigo blue eyes widened just a second too late. With the left over electro in the air, combined with the water still dripping from his clothes, the elements swirled in, overcharging as Heizou thrust forward. His fist collided with Kunikuzushi’s shoulder. The power of it short circuited.
They were both thrown backwards at the force of the explosion.
Heizou landed in water, static electricity popping over the waves as his head went under and he rolled. It was shallow enough for him to pop up quickly, however disoriented, scanning the beach for the electro user. The world spun for a moment. But as the dust and sand cleared, the dark purple of the other man came into his view.
He looked more dazed than anything as Kunikuzushi pushed himself up, staring in some sort of irritation at Heizou’s soaked form. Sand was coating his hair and clothes, and his brows knit together. Not for the first time, Heizou wished he could untangle that expression. He wasn’t sure their little scuffle had taught him much, other than that Kunikuzushi was certain of his skill, but even in their brief meetings, that was not news to Heizou.
After a long moment, the stranger dragged himself up from the sand, hat sitting some meters away. He squinted hard at Heizou. “Did you seriously just try to punch me?”
The water lapped around Heizou, sticking his clothes to his skin.
“Try?” He asked, calling across the waves. “Pretty sure I landed that jab.”
For a moment, Heizou thought Kunikuzushi was going to continue their short lived row, as he began picking his way to the shore. But when he waded into the water, shoes and all, he held out a hand to Heizou. It wasn’t a peace offering nor an admission of a tie. It was a means to an end.
And so he took it, without much more thought, letting himself be pulled up. Kunikuzushi dragged him close once he was upright, hand tight on his, almost to the point of pain. He was taller than Heizou, he realized, at least when Heizou didn’t have his shoes on. He swallowed around his suddenly dry throat, those bright, shocking eyes staring him down.
“Don’t get in my way,” he was told, low and serious.
“Fat chance,” Heizou responded, equally as determined.
Kunikuzushi only narrowed his eyes, staring him down with something almost like disinterest. Almost. For as many masks as this man seemed to wear, no one, not even he, could entirely hide behind a facade. He was entertained, if nothing else. It made Heizou only want to needle further, untangle the strings of his lies and disguises until he found the truth under it all, no matter how wicked that truth may be.
“You’re in over your head,” he said, finally. “Get too close and you’ll lose more than your life.”
“Aw, it almost sounds like you care.”
“I’d hate to lose a plaything, is all.”
“Surely the person pulling the strings of the Vision Hunt Decree has better things to do than play around.”
“If you’re so sure of yourself, why haven’t you told your little Detective Agency what you suspect you know about me?”
Heizou hummed, squeezing the hold Kunikuzushi still had on his hand. “Maybe I’m selfish.”
That got a bark of real laughter out of the other man, head thrown backwards, and his eyes darkened violently once he returned his attention to Heizou. “Careful, now, Shikanoin, you don’t know as much as you think you do.” And that, of course, is what thrilled Heizou so. Chasing mysteries was half the fun of unraveling them.
A sharp shock of electricity hit Heizou’s palm and he recoiled with a hiss. When he looked back up, the man before him was gone.
A few days later, he was called back to Narukami.
It seemed an Outlander had shown up in Ritou.
—
The third time Heizou saw Kunikuzushi, the Vision Hunt Decree had just been abolished. Mere minutes after the news spread throughout Inazuma City.
Heizou hadn’t heard exactly what had happened. A Harbinger had been executed by the Raiden Shogun, whispers told him. Much beyond that, the Detective Agency heard little. He couldn’t help but question how Kunikuzushi’s plans had so quickly fallen apart. Or had this been the plan all along? Heizou wondered. How involved was he really? He must have had some dealings with the Fatui, but what exactly?
The questions swirled about his mind, and as if to taunt him, a flash of dark purple caught his eye as he wandered the streets of Inazuma City, hoping to overhear something–any crumb of information that would give him a lead. The man was striding down the road quickly, away from the Shogunate’s tower. Had he been watching the whole thing go down with the Outlander and the Resistance?
Heizou only caught a glance. But it was enough to see the satisfied, victorious, and cunning toothy smile he flashed to Heizou. As if to say, “I won.”
He disappeared into the crowd before Heizou could get to him.
That one look, that one second, drove Heizou to insanity. Kunikuzushi had succeeded in something and Heizou had no idea what it was. He wasn’t used to not knowing. He didn’t enjoy it, not when he felt as though their little game had abruptly ended, pages torn from the rule book before Heizou could decipher how the game was supposed to be won or what the objective was. Mysteries were only fun when they weren’t pulled from his hands without so much as a warning.
He threw himself into searching for the man. Call him obsessive, but he needed to know what game he had lost.
—
Purple electricity lit up the sky late one night, coming from somewhere just north of the city.
It drew the attention of the city dwellers, and Heizou rushed to investigate.
But by the time he arrived at the scene, the grass was singed and all that was left was a patch of blood, dark and tar-like.
—
Sango held out a piece of parchment, folded along the middle as though whatever is written on it was to be kept out of the public eye. Heizou reached for it, only for the hand holding it to snatch it backwards again in warning.
“Shikanoin,” Sango said seriously. “No funny business. This is top priority. You find the perpetrator, you bring him in stat. If it becomes too dangerous, you back out immediately. Understood?”
Heizou kept his hand outstretched, waiting for the paper, sassily planting his free hand on his hip and cocking his head. “Sango,” he sighed, as though put upon. As though this wasn’t a common occurrence. “Have I ever let you down?”
With an eye roll, Sango finally handed him the paper, keeping a hold on it so that Heizou couldn’t immediately rip it from her fingers. She dragged it backwards a couple of centimeters, threatening to take the investigation back if he didn’t cooperate. “Multiple times,” she retorted.
“Maybe, but have I ever ,” he tugged, finally snatching the parchment from her, dancing backwards a few steps so she couldn’t grab at it–which she did try to do on instinct. “Returned with no leads?” He held up the folded parchment victoriously and stuck out his tongue childishly.
She groaned, moving to pinch the bridge of her nose, a headache likely forming behind her eyes. It was something she often complained about whenever Heizou walked through the door. “Just do as I say, Shikanoin. Don’t go looking for trouble, and for the love of the Seven, do not waste your time.”
The urgency in her voice was unusual and Heizou finally opened the parchment, feeling swords slowly drive into his gut as he read.
Sixth Harbinger of the Fatui “The Balladeer”
Codename: Scaramouche
Last seen in Inazuma City
Electro user
Purple hair, blue eyes
HIGHLY DANGEROUS - proceed with caution
Normally, it would have been frighteningly little to go on. But Heizou stared down at the ink and the last several months all came crashing down on him. Sixth Harbinger of the Fatui . The Vision Hunt Decree, the delusions… Of course, Heizou had had his suspicions about Kunikuzushi’s involvement with the Fatui, but this…
He’d been dealing with a Harbinger this whole time.
Sango placed a hand on his shoulder, mistaking his shocked silence for fear. “You can decline,” she said softly.
Blinking hard, Heizou folded the paper again and slipped it into his pocket. “Are you kidding? Finally, something interesting.”
She raised an eyebrow at him, but took him at his word, returning to her desk.
“The Traveler mentioned he’d be headed to Sumeru next. The Balladeer has whatever it is he was looking for in Inazuma and won’t stick around for long. He’s likely in Ritou.”
“Why isn’t the Traveler looking for him on their own?” After all, the Traveler had near single handedly stopped the Raiden Shogun. They were the one that learned of this Harbinger’s plans. Not that Heizou was jealous. Not entirely. Maybe a little. But it seemed only sensible that the Traveler should be at the crux of the investigation, when they knew what they did.
“Something’s come up in the Chasm in Liyue, they’re being asked to see to it. Which is why we’re counting on you for this. Now, I know there’s not much to go on, but if anyone can find the Balladeer, it’ll be you. So long as you don’t get yourself killed in the process.”
High praise, coming from Sango.
“Ritou,” she repeated, and pointed her ink brush towards the door. “Don’t waste time.” He saluted brattily, before turning on his heel and heading out the door, narrowly avoiding a book being thrown at him.
But he did not head west out of the city. No, if the Balladeer was still in Inazuma, he wouldn’t be in Ritou. What sense would it make for a Harbinger to take a passenger ship out of the nation? He would draw more than unwanted attention. There were other ways off the island if you were powerful enough. And at any rate–Heizou turned his head up to the Shogunate’s tower. If he was seen in the city recently, he was in no real hurry to depart.
Heizou had a sneaking suspicion he knew exactly where he was.
—
Had he not been looking, Heizou would have walked right past the still figure on the bench that was situated under the sakura tree Heizou often frequented. Petals were fluttering in the early autumn wind, falling daintily on the lap of the man who inhabited the bench. Kunikuzushi was dressed plainly, commoner’s haori tied around him and a respectably sized bamboo hat keeping his bowed head obscured. He looked small, suddenly, slouched over slightly with his hand over his breastbone.
The closer Heizou drew, the more he realized the man wasn’t as statuesque as he thought he had been. He was shaking.
He stopped a few steps away from the bench and placed a jar of sake next to him. The good stuff. The shuddering stopped, and slowly, Kunikuzushi raised his angry, sharp eyes to him.
“Boy, you look like shit.”
“Fuck off,” Kunikuzushi—Scaramouche—the Balladeer—snapped at him. He lowered his hand away from his heart to settle on the book at his side, knocking the jar of sake to the ground in the process, peace offering this time ignored. To anyone passing by, they would never see a catalyst at his hand nor would they blink twice at the jar that rolled to a stop under the tree. But what Heizou saw was a threat, a promise of another scuffle. One Kunikuzushi would not hold back on this time.
Heizou bit at the inside of his cheek, taking in the figure before him. Such a stark difference between the young man he’d seen thrice before. His eyes were bruised with lack of sleep and any hint of that cocksure attitude was long gone. But perhaps this was one layer closer to who he really was. “Here I thought you had skipped town. Drove me kind of nuts, actually, I never really figured out what you were here for. You should see the mess I’ve made of my wall back home trying to string your whereabouts together. Sango keeps trying to—”
“For the love of Celestia, shut your mouth,” Kunikuzushi lowered his head again. “And get the hell away from me.”
Heizou was never good at following instructions. He walked the final steps to the bench and fell heavily onto it, knocking their knees together. Kunikuzushi whipped his attention back up to Heizou, the precipice of murder on his face. Heizou wasn’t sure what it said about him that instead of trepidation or fear, he only wanted to see how far he could push that expression. Sango often told him he was reckless. She must have been right. This was a Harbinger, for the Seven’s sake, he shouldn’t be acting anymore as if this was any old stranger with a propensity for law breaking. This wasn’t a usual case.
He would get himself killed one of these days.
But if it was at the hands of his current mystery—was that so bad?
“If you really wanted to be alone, you wouldn’t have come here, of all places,” he pointed out, picking up a lone cherry blossom from the bench and twirling it in his fingers.
With an irritated sigh, the man next to him dragged a hand over his face. A few beats passed but Heizou waited him out. Despite Sango’s urgency, it seemed he had plenty of time on his hands. Finally, the Balladeer confided, “My body rejected the Gnosis,” not that any of those words meant a thing to Heizou. He stored them away to pick at later. “What the fuck else am I supposed to do?” He sounded so… defeated.
“Maybe not start a war, for one,” he muttered. It seemed like a good enough response to whatever Kunikuzushi was upset about. Not driving a country to ruin was always good advice, or so Heizou thought. His point of view was clearly not taken very well, if the downturn of Kunikuzushi’s lips was anything to say about it.
“You really don’t know shit,” it wasn’t the response Heizou had been expecting, but he cocked his head sideways.
“Funny how you’ve walked your stance back on that since our first meeting.”
“Perception and knowledge are not one in the same.”
“But one leads to the other.”
“Only if the first isn’t misinterpreted,” Kunikuzushi snapped.
“Oh? And have I misinterpreted?”
Boldly, stupidly, foolishly–perhaps he really did have a death wish–he leaned over to Kunikuzushi, turning his head so his lips were just a breath’s width away from the other’s ear. He felt the Harbinger go entirely still. He could hear his own heartbeat in his ears, but as he drew in so near, he couldn’t even feel Kunikuzushi breathe.
“Whatchya think? Have I misinterpreted,” he asked in a whisper. He could nearly feel the daggers of the other man’s eyes drilling into him. “Scaramouche?”
A crack of lightning had him flying back off the bench, into the crowd of passerbys. He apologized profusely as he scrambled, helping one child right himself, before he whipped his head back in the direction of Scaramouche who had ran in the opposite direction. Heizou caught his purple hair vanish into the crowd—but he wasn’t about to let him disappear again. He took off down the road, using his Vision to boost each foot fall, weaving in and out of people as he booked it after the Harbinger.
Whatever had happened to him, it had slowed him down considerably, and just as Heizou was catching up, Scaramouche took a sharp turn off a bridge, hopping the railing and landing hard in the water below, following the shallow stream down. Electricity crackled on the water’s surface in his wake.
“Kunikuzushi!” Heizou yelled after him, taking the long way around to avoid the overcharged water. He wanted answers .
“Fuck off!” Scaramouche tossed back over his shoulder. The catalyst in his hand flipped open in front of him and Heizou could see the lightning begin to manifest. He kicked up his speed.
“Are you even working with the Fatui anymore?!” He called, narrowly dodging another crack of lightning sent his way. “Damnit–knock it off! I just want the truth!”
“You have plenty of the damn truth!”
He opened his mouth to ask a slew of questions when Scaramouche came to the edge of a waterfall that led down to the shore below. He whipped around, cheeks flushed an interesting shade of lavender. Heizou continued toward him at full force. But just as he nearly had his hand on Scaramouche’s haori, the man vanished in a blink of light, causing Heizou to stumble, hands grasping at nothing, and crackled back into existence just behind him, snatching at Heizou’s arms and shoving them both directly over the edge.
He gasped at the length of the fall, the sound of water rushing in his ears and bright blue eyes glaring into his green, furious and vicious and pained all at once.
Had it not been for the quick work of his Vision softening their fall with a burst of wind, Heizou was sure he would have cracked his head open on the rocks as they collided.
But despite the wind, they landed hard and Scaramouche quickly pinned him, shoving him down when Heizou tried to scramble up on instinct. There was nothing in his face nor body but the intent to kill. Heizou wracked his brain for the last time he had seen such a horrific expression on a human being and came up empty.
“Enough!” Scaramouche shouted, getting in his face, “I’m through humoring you!”
Heizou didn’t have the time he would have liked to process what humoring meant to a Harbinger. The blue sky above them suddenly turned a dark, foreboding gray as clouds swirled, lightning popping about in the darkness. It was like a candle had been blown out in a dark room. The atmosphere changed immediately, unbelievably so. He wondered if he really had hit his head.
Eventually, Heizou dragged his eyes down from the sky to Scaramouche, whose face had gone a sickly pale. His eyes were wide and wild as he rose up to his knees above Heizou. Electro coursed through the Harbinger’s body, and for a second, Heizou thought it was filling up his veins up with lightning, purple streaks beginning to glow over his porcelain skin like ink being poured into a cup of water. But as the color darkened, he realized—no, they weren’t veins at all. The light was seeping through joints and seams on his skin, turning the flesh and blood body above him to something inanimate. Something inhuman.
A puppet, he thought with slowly dawning understanding.
This young man, for all he looked as such a moment ago, morphed quickly into… not something ancient or archaic—but antique. Like a doll from a different time period who had been left at the back of a warehouse for too long. Something someone would find in an attic of Ritou Village, passed along too many hands to know its origin.
It was the first time in the man’s presence that Heizou finally felt as though he should be worried, that his death was just a stone’s throw away. Or perhaps just one wrong word away. Electricity popped and cracked through his body, just as it did the threatening sky above them. He knew deep down that this man could end him… But maybe Heizou really was stupid when it came down to it.
Because under all that anger, under the broken puppet, another crack in Kunikuzushi’s facade split at his seams. It was like the slow shattering of stained glass. Look at it the wrong way and you would never notice the crumbling window, pieces of glass revealing what lay on its other side as they fell to the ground.
Looking into those vicious, furious eyes, all Heizou could see was a deep and old sorrow.
He found himself thinking–even as Scaramouche raised a hand, electricity crackling at his fingertips– he would even be beautiful if he were crying.
Some sense of self preservation stopped him from speaking the words, thank whatever Archon was looking down on him, but instead, just as ridiculously, he reached up slowly and hooked two fingers into the collar of Kunikuzushi’s common haori. He tugged lightly.
“Kiss me,” he said.
He should have been pushing Kunikuzushi away. Begging for his life, perhaps. Putting up a fight. Yet here he was. Wasn’t that just the way?
The anger, the sorrow, the explicit murderous rage that had taken over Kunikuzushi all broke in an instant, shattering above Heizou. Tears did not fall from his eyes, but the confusion and irritation threatened it; he looked ready to scream. He had expected violence, anything but this, probably. The lightning that crackled around him fizzled and vanished. Above them, the lightning and thunder settled.
“What is wrong with you!” He yelled. It wasn’t a question. “I’m going to kill you and rip out your heart, I’ll take it for mine!!”
In the face of a Harbinger, Heizou couldn’t help but giggle. “Are you always so dramatic?”
“Are you always so insufferable?!” The glowing, purple seams on his face that had given him such an eerie character slowly seeped away, leaving behind nothing but flawless skin and patches of a flush. Heizou kept his fingers curled in the fabric.
“Yes, as a matter of fact I am. You should hear what the rest of the Tenryou Commission says about me.” Gently, he raised his other hand, gliding his fingers up on the back of Kunikuzushi’s neck. “Kiss me,” he repeated.
“Celestia, you talk and you talk and you say absolutely nothing.”
Stupidly, boldly, foolishly, he dragged Kunikuzushi down.
Stupidly, boldly, foolishly, Scaramouche followed.
Heizou skipped the part where he pressed his lips to Kunikuzushi’s and jumped right into pushing his tongue into his mouth. The other man seemed to be on the same page, meeting him halfway with teeth and tongue, deep and dirty, desperate almost. Anything for human contact. After all, Heizou thought hazily as Kunikuzushi bit at his tongue, humans were all fairly predictable once it came down to it.
He fisted his fingers into the fabric of the haori, dragging his other hand into night purple hair, keeping Kunikuzushi pressed against him, tugging every so often until the other man had his entire weight on Heizou. It was pleasant–too pleasant, likely. It was messy and wet and neither of them seemed to care about etiquette nor decency. Heizou wanted more. When did he not?
“How fucking dare you,” Scaramouche whispered against his lips, catching his breath, before diving back in, nipping at any amount of skin his teeth came in contact with. Heizou’s mind was fuzzy, and he wasn’t sure what it was that he dared. That he hadn’t died, maybe? That he had kissed this Harbinger? Who knew, other than the Balladeer himself, and frankly, who cared? Heizou certainly didn’t. Above them, rain began to fall from the deep set clouds, water pattering around them, slicking Heizou’s hair to his forehead and soaking them through their clothes.
Biting hard, Scaramouche drew blood, dragging a whine out of Heizou’s throat, before licking at the wound possessively. “Archons, you’re so predictable,” Heizou laughed against his tongue, tasting his own blood.
“Shut up, oh my god, shut up.”
Scaramouche was violent in everything he did, continuing his assault on Heizou’s lips, while his nails found every bare patch of skin to dig into painfully. He discovered the openings of Heizou’s top along his sides and he quickly dragged his fingers into soft skin and lean muscle, drawing out ticklish, breathless giggles from the detective. That was until he dug his nails in, scratching into his unmarred skin, dragging pinpricks of pain along his ribs and to his abdomen. Heizou sighed against Scaramouche’s lips.
He needed therapy, Heizou thought distantly, for how excited this prospect made him. How far would Scaramouche go? How many bruises and nail marks would he have after a night of this? He wanted to pry apart this man by the seams, find out what made him tick, find out how many layers there were before it was only Kunikuzushi left. No Harbinger, no Scaramouche, only Kunikuzushi.
He fanned his fingers out over the haori, and accidentally pressed up too hard, drawing a gasp from the man above him. He jerked his hand away—away from the wound that must have been left from whatever the Gnosis had done to him—but the moment had broken.
Like he’d touched an open flame, Scaramouche flinched backwards, rising to his knees over Heizou. They were both panting, and a pretty lavender blush coated the Harbinger’s cheeks. He turned to look anywhere but at the detective, bringing a hand to rub at his chest, just over where a heart would lay.
They sat there for a moment, in the silence of the pattering rain, before Heizou pushed himself up on his elbows. His wet hair had come out of its tie and fell loosely over his shoulders where it wasn’t sticking to skin.
The movement jarred Kunikuzushi out of his stupor and he swallowed thickly, moving to wipe his pink and spit slick lips with the back of his wrist. “Your hair looks stupid like that.” It wasn’t a decent attempt at normalcy, whatever normalcy looked like for the two of them, but Heizou allowed him to have it.
“Says the guy with the unfortunate bowl cut.”
Scaramouche responded with an eye roll, finally getting off of Heizou. A disappointment, really, Heizou thought. He immediately missed the pleasant weight over him. But a hand was held out to him, and Heizou took it, getting dragged up to his feet none too gently. Scaramouche dropped his hand the minute Heizou was upright.
“Stay out of my way,” the Harbinger said after a moment. Quiet and not particularly sinister.
“I’m supposed to put you under arrest,” Heizou finally told him, slowly remembering his objective. Not that he had any real plan to put that objective into action.
“You’re doing a piss poor job at it.”
“But I wouldn’t mind a trip to the mainland,” Heizou considered, ignoring him and tapping a finger to his chin in thought. “And you know better than anyone that I love a good chase.”
Scaramouche eyed him, as though Heizou was crazy. By now, anyone could have come to that conclusion, Heizou thought with amusement.
“There’s still far too much about you I don’t know,” Heizou winked at him. Scaramouche looked close to murder again. “Why not make it interesting for me? If there’s a wicked truth to find, you know I’ll be hot on its trail.”
Abruptly, Kunikuzushi stepped into Heizou’s space. He brought his lips right up to Heizou’s, just a breath away. His heart skipped a beat in anticipation. Archons, how he wanted.
“I mean it, I’ll tear that heart clean from your chest if you’re not careful.”
“Guess I should be even more reckless, then,” Heizou let his eyes flutter shut and he leaned in to close the distance.
But in a pop of static, his hands met thin air and he wheeled around, finding himself alone on the rocks.
The rain slowed and the clouds dissipated and Kunikuzushi was gone.
Not a single sign of him was left, not a single clue to follow.
Heizou smirked to himself. Finally, he thought, turning on his heel to head back up to the city center. Finally, I’m in for a challenge.