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"And so the merchant says to his wife, 'Aa! Futon ga... futtonda!'"
There's a beat of silence, and Ayaka is the first to break, hiding the tiniest puff of laughter behind one dainty hand before Thoma's hearty guffawing drowns out anything else. Ayato has taken his chin between two fingers and is nodding slowly in stern appraisal of the joke, and Lumine just looks baffled. She surreptitiously reaches over and swats Kaeya's knee beneath the table.
"Since when do you speak Inazuman?" she asks accusingly, and he wags a finger.
"I can understand and utilize ten different languages, I'll have you know," he replies, then lowers his voice to a stage whisper. "Some I can only utilize well enough to swear or make awful puns, however."
"Yeah, that tracks," Paimon pipes up, folding her arms where she floats at Lumine's shoulder.
"A most amusing pun indeed," Ayato says finally. "Tell me, Captain, what made you decide to study the art of dajare?"
"Waka, I'm... not sure puns really count as art," Thoma says, and Ayato waves a hand.
"Nonsense," he says. "Sir Kaeya achieved perfect intonation on the punchline. I believe I've never heard an outlander deliver dajare with such elegance and accuracy before; it is quite clear he's spent a great deal of time mastering Inazuman wordplay."
"Only when I should be doing paperwork instead," Kaeya says, and this time Ayato actually laughs. Kaeya feels he's accomplished something.
When he'd decided to join Lumine at the Irodori festival for a day or two, he hadn't expected to be introduced to the Yashiro Commissioner himself, let alone be invited back to the estate for a meal, but Kaeya has never been one to look a gift horse in the mouth. Learning that a Mondstadtan expatriate sits at the commissioner's right hand just makes the whole thing that much sweeter, too; Kaeya's certainly not so boorish as to take advantage of Lumine's friends, of course, but expanding one's own circle of contacts is never a bad thing. Especially when those expansions include people with access to a great deal of very important international information.
With a sigh, Kaeya leans back on his hands a moment. "My compliments to the chef, by the way," he says, nodding toward the spread of food on the low-set table. He was a bit baffled at first by the fact that the table so low to the floor concealed a second, even lower floor underneath, but ultimately finds this preferable to that awful nonsense of sitting on one's knees. "While the hotpot offerings were decidedly... creative... I must say that my favorite items were the tri-flavored skewers, and the... what did you call them?" He points to a small plate with a single remaining skewer of stacked pastel-colored spheres. "Dango, yes?"
"I think you just have a predilection for food on sticks, honestly," Lumine says with a snort of laughter, and Kaeya dramatically touches his forehead.
"Ah, I've let my guard down, it seems." He rolls one shoulder, then sits up straight and nods his head backward. "Would it be terribly rude of me to excuse myself for a moment?" he asks then, catching Lumine's faintly concerned frown in his peripheral vision. "I'd just like to get a bit of air," he clarifies; "I find I have a hard time simply sitting still after a good meal."
"Not at all, please make yourself at home," Ayato says, gesturing with his strikingly off-set plastic cup. Kaeya squints at it; he's not particularly fond of this 'boba tea' thing the commissioner prefers--he's not even sure why it's called tea when there appears to be mostly milk and juice involved, but that is neither here nor there. He does wonder if it's worth mentioning it to Diluc, however; next year's Bartending Academy could highlight some more international fare, perhaps drawing some extra attention. He'll have to ask Thoma how the strange squishy spherical additions to the beverage are made. "I believe evening will be upon us, soon; the view due south can be quite breathtaking at sunset," Ayato says, and Kaeya gives a nod as he gets to his feet.
"I suppose I'll have to go see for myself, in that case," he says, and pats Lumine's shoulder with a smile. "Don't let my absence stall your conversation," he says with a shallow bow, and then turns to head for the front entrance.
Pausing in the foyer to tug his boots on, Kaeya pushes the doors open and lifts a hand in a casual half-wave to the guards stationed just outside. The light of the falling sun casts long orange lines across the dark wood of the veranda, and as he walks slowly around the raised area in the center to reach the stairs to the south, he lets out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. He never quite knows how to act around new people he's not actively seeking to get information out of. That isn't to say that he wouldn't love to get hold of some of the things the Kamisatos are privy to, surely, but he certainly isn't about to start interrogating them, even under the guise of friendly conversation; he knows that Ayaka especially is a dear friend of Lumine's, and he respects her far too much to do anything like that to someone she cares about. But that means he's stuck trying to have a sincere conversation, and that's something he still has trouble with, even with some of his closer friends. He's gotten better about it in the last year and a half, but he fears it'll be a while yet before it comes naturally to him. He's trying, he really is... he wants to be more sincere, he thinks, but it's a bit wearying, at times, to not have the mask up constantly. He's gotten so used to hiding behind his façade of charismatic witty aloofness that sometimes just being near people without the forced distance, physically or conversationally, is draining.
Leaning on the railing, he peers out over the water and takes in the view. Inazuma City is doused in lavender and gold, the pink cherry trees backlit by orange sky the color of sunsettia juice. In the distance, half-obscured by clouds, the fractured summit of Amakumo Peak hangs like a great spinning top in the heavens, and along the horizon, the conical shape of Mt. Kanna paints a sharp silhouette rising away from the ocean. He can't help but be a bit disappointed he doesn't have time to see more of Inazuma while he's here. He really can't be away from Mondstadt too long, Jean has far too much on her plate to be without a deputy for more than a few days, but as much as Kaeya loves the rolling hills and blue skies of Mondstadt, there's something so compelling, exciting, about this land of lightning and eternity. Maybe one day he'll be able to see more of it, but for now he can be satisfied with these little moments of wonder at a world so much bigger than he ever could have imagined as a child.
Kaeya watches the sky turn from salmon pink and dusky mauve to periwinkle blue, and finally to indigo, speckled with stars. The statue of the Raiden Shogun is illuminated in gold, visible even from afar, and he notes absently that the tall, dramatic wings at the statue's back are not so unlike those that adorn the statue of Barbatos in the square in Mondstadt. He wonders for a moment if the Raiden Shogun actually has wings (he's certainly seen his share of stranger things), or if the statue's are metaphorical; he'll have to ask Lumine sometime.
His head feels a bit clearer now, the anxious buzz of vacillating between his usual MO and his genuine desire to get to know more of the people Lumine has grown close with having faded in the quiet stillness of evening; he should probably go back to the table. The last thing he wants to be is impolite, and his familiarity with Inazuman customs is passing at best--he hasn't had to read the room this hard in a long time. It's been a bit tiring, but making allies of the Yashiro Commissioner and his sister will not only be a boon to his own interests, it serves to make Mondstadt stronger as well, and Kaeya is little if not wholly dedicated to both goals.
Heading back inside, he blows out a sigh as he removes his boots again--don't they get tired of this, with the constant off and on of the shoes? Certainly Kaeya isn't one to put his boots up on the table upon returning home for the evening, but he finds the constant minding of no shoes indoors a bit wearying.
A glint of color catches his eye, and he moves toward one of the low decorated tables along the wall. He'd noted a few of these when they had first arrived at the estate, adorned with hand-painted pottery and intricate lacquerware, but there's a particular vase on this particular table that strikes him as peculiar. Flanked by two small lacquer bowls, the vase is tall and shaped a bit like a gourd, with a narrow neck and a rounded base. The gold camellia of the Kamisato Crest is delicately painted on the ceramic and glints in the lanternlight, but what he hadn't noticed the first time he'd passed were the seams that spiderweb through the entire piece. Down the neck and all across the base are thin, gold lines, like veins of ore, and he reaches out to gently brush the pads of his fingers across them in wonder. They're raised, almost like scars, across the otherwise pristine surface of the vase, and while he wouldn't have been surprised at all to learn that an antique heirloom had been broken at some point over the years, the fact that the seams appear to have been highlighted on purpose does give him pause.
"That vase has been in my family for seven generations."
Kaeya startles visibly and stands up very straight, turning sharply to his right to see Ayaka standing less than a meter away, and for a moment he cannot believe she was able to sneak up on him at all, before he remembers that despite her elegant bearing and softspoken, dainty demeanor, she's a formidable warrior herself.
"Forgive me," he says, almost clumsy in his urgency to apologize. "I meant no disrespect."
"Oh, not at all," Ayaka says with a smile, padding softly closer, and he doesn't miss the way she deftly moves to his left side to avoid standing in his blind spot. Cultured, observant, and remarkably conscientious? He wishes the bulk of Mondstadtan nobility had a fraction of her grace. She runs her fingers across the same gold veins that had captured Kaeya's intrigue. "On the contrary, I'm flattered by your interest," she says then, looking up at him. "I'd say you have a keen eye for things that are more than they appear."
He pulls at the back of his neck and puffs a laugh. "Alas, only one," he says, gesturing to his covered eye, and she looks as though she's not certain she's allowed to laugh.
"Shall I tell you about this vase, then, Sir Kaeya?" she asks then, and he notes there's a tinge of sadness in her voice. He knows she too wields a Cryo Vision, and has come to understand that the Archon of Ice has a rather perverse sense of humor, granting her favor to those who have perhaps been wounded the most deeply by her ideal. He has only just met Ayaka today, and would never presume to ask her to divulge a painful history, but her offer is so pure, so unpretentious, that he can't help thinking perhaps it's something she genuinely wishes to speak of.
"If it pleases you to tell me," he says after a moment's consideration, a hand on his heart, "then I'll gladly listen."
She folds her hands together and regards the vase. "You might think it graceless of me to speak of my parent's deaths to someone I've only just met," she says softly, "but in truth, half of this story is a matter of public record, as it is."
"My condolences for your loss," he says. "Admittedly I'm not up to date on Inazuman events of the past several years; it was... difficult to obtain much information, from so far away."
Ayaka shakes her head. "You needn't apologize at all," she assures him; "the distance alone presents quite the hindrance. The Sakoku Decree only made matters worse." She offers him a small smile. "It's not a long story, but somehow I have a sense you'll appreciate it."
He listens in silence as she tells the sad tale of her father's declining health in the wake of the family's fall from grace, and he feels a somber, familiar ache for her, knowing all too well the pain of losing one's family. And yet, knowing she still has her brother by her side, a thread of envy tugs at his heart, spiny and barbed like razorwire. He catches himself coveting the blessings of his friends and acquaintances on occasion--the way Jean knows beyond shadow of all doubt where she stands in the world, Albedo's dedication to his role as Klee's brother, even Mona's unwavering faith in the stars... Ayaka has these things, all three: a place in the world, a brother who would do anything for her, and the devotion of everyone in her nation. He wonders at times if he'll ever truly know his role in the bigger picture, if he'll ever really have a family again... or if there's anyone who could ever trust him that way, if there's anything even left for him to believe in. It's a monstrous thing, he thinks, to yearn for the things others enjoy that remain out of your reach, and he folds his arms and grips his sleeves unconsciously, as if the self-soothing gesture might chase the ugly, invidious feeling away.
"The night my father passed," Ayaka says, her fingers steepled against her chin, "I awoke shortly after falling asleep, though I didn't know why. I left my bedroom to get a glass of water, and as I passed near this vase--it had been on a display pillar in the private residence wing at the time--it tumbled from its perch and shattered against the wooden floor."
She looks at Kaeya, and he notes that her eyes are a very soft shade of grey, like dawn light on an overcast, snowy morning--not at all like her brother's very striking violet gaze. It seems, to him, that Ayaka is every bit as strong and resilient as Ayato, surely, but where he has perfect right angles and sharp corners like expertly cut glass, she is mild and unobtrusive, sanded wood polished smooth from years of learned gentility; she is the ornately carved frame that softens her brother's edges, and Kaeya wonders if he and Diluc had ever complemented one another so well.
"I hadn't touched it," Ayaka says then, and he blinks, almost having forgotten she'd been speaking at all, "and there was no reason for it to have toppled like it did."
Lumine wasn't joking when she had told him that Ayaka was just comfortable to be around. Kaeya likes people, likes conversation, likes a lively setting and good company; he hates to be alone for long stretches, but despite his amiable nature and the ease with which he can start up a conversation with just about anyone, people also exhaust him a lot of the time, and it can be a difficult balance to strike. He had wondered at first why Lumine had seemed so enthused about the idea of his joining her for this trip, and he's beginning to think he understands at least one reason.
"To this day I don't know what caused the vase to fall," Ayaka says after another measured pause, "and I was terrified I would be blamed for breaking it. I was determined to repair it, but... I was just a child, and though I had collected all the pieces, I couldn't figure out how to reassemble it properly. So I put the broken pieces into a box and tucked them away in my closet and hoped no one would notice the vase was missing."
Ayaka hesitates, as if she's making certain she's still on-topic, and she looks at Kaeya a moment, something questioning in her gaze. He gives her a shallow hint of a smile and nods in silent approval, a wordless motion for her to continue, and she looks a little relieved. He's a bit puzzled by her falter; he knows she is the public face of the Yashiro Commission, and while in jest he would certainly laugh about how intimidating and awesome he surely is, he cannot imagine that a political figure such as herself would find it necessary to waver like that on his account.
"Tell me, Captain," Ayaka says then, smoothing an invisible wrinkle from the front of her skirt, "are you familiar with the concept of wabi sabi?"
"Oh, you mean that rather pungent green paste Thoma so valiantly ate an entire spoonful of, at your dear brother's behest?"
Ayaka's eyes go wide and she waves both hands delicately. "Ah! No, that was--"
Recognition suddenly washes over her face then, her gaze softening and her mouth pinching at one corner into the barest hint of a grin; Kaeya can't help but laugh softly. After the Only One Eye joke she'd looked uncertain if mirth was even permissible; she seems to be getting the hang of this at a laudable pace.
Kaeya shakes his head. "Alas, I am not, in fact, familiar with this 'wabi sabi'," he says; "perhaps you'll enlighten me?"
Ayaka looks thoughtful for a moment, pressing a knuckle against her lower lip. "It's a bit strange to try and explain in the common tongue," she says by way of apology. "The word is written using two characters. The first has a meaning like... a lonely yearning, or... perhaps, 'to pine wistfully for'," she says. "The second connotes a... wisdom or beauty that comes with age or trial: the tarnish of patina on copper, or... the solitary sound of a fading echo."
"Very poetic," Kaeya says, tilting his head a bit. "Then together, they imply a... wistfulness for that which has not yet been achieved?"
"Mm, not quite," she says, sounding a bit frustrated, and he rather wishes he were fluent in Inazuman in this moment. "The combining of characters in Inazuman is not always so straightforward. Wabi sabi is more... appreciation," she says, "for that which is imperfect, flawed, or fleeting."
She looks at him a moment as he ponders this explanation, and then he nods in something like understanding, and she looks pleased he seems to be following.
"After my parents both passed," she says then, quietly, "I forgot about that broken vase for a long time. My brother and I, we struggled to maintain our family's honor and prestige, and after much work and many hardships, we were able to preserve our standing as head of the Yashiro Commission, and hold onto the favor of the people as one of the influential families of Inazuma. It was only then, after so much time, that I even found the vase again, tucked away safely in that box, and I knew that the time had come to return it to its place in the halls of our estate. However, even though the pieces fit back together well enough, there was no way to return the vase to its former flawless glory, and at first I was devastated, thinking that it was ruined. It took some time before I realized that, much like my family's reputation, the vase would never be what it once was... but with care and attention and work, it could still be whole again."
It's funny, Kaeya thinks, how their stories truly could not be more different, and yet he finds himself aching in sympathy. He, too, had found himself with hands full of the shards of a broken life not so many years ago, sharp and cutting into his skin and leaving him bleeding in the wake of tragedy. He, too, had thought that there was nothing to be done about the grief and pain that had led him to such ruin, and he'd been all but prepared to give up. The sharp thread of envy tugs against his heart again, and he wonders just how things might have gone if he'd simply kept his mouth shut that fateful night five years ago; if Diluc hadn't left Mondstadt, how different would his life, both their lives, be now? If they had been able to work together to protect Mondstadt, as the Kamisato siblings had cooperated to serve the interests of Inazuma, how much stronger would Mondstadt be today?
How much stronger would he be?
Mondstadt is fine. Mondstadt has Jean, has all the Knights of Favonius, has the support of the church and the favor of its (decidedly unorthodox) archon, has the Adventurer's Guild and one very tenacious Traveler to defend it against any and all threats. Like Inazuma, Mondstadt did not break for the stumbling of one if its great families... but unlike the Kamisato clan, the Ragnvindr family remains broken, he thinks. Kaeya had never taken Crepus' surname, had never felt he deserved it, and now he wonders if anything would be different if he had.
"This is called kintsugi," Ayaka says then, her soft, lilting voice again tugging him free of his somber thoughts, and his gaze focuses on her hand as she trails her fingers across one of the golden veins in the vase. "It means, 'golden joinery'," she explains, "and it is a very old practice that not many still partake in. It is one of the foremost examples, I feel, of the true significance of wabi sabi."
"Oh?"
She nods at his gentle verbal nudge, folding her hands near her heart. "Kintsugi approaches the breakage and repair of an item as part of its story, part of the chronicle of its existence, rather than something that should be hidden in shame."
Kaeya exhales a bit sharply, feeling exposed, somehow, but if Ayaka notices, she does not draw attention to it.
"Wabi sabi is a way to show respect and admiration to the journey of life," she says, "and kintsugi ties into this philosophy by taking that which has been broken, perhaps by rough handling or carelessness, and treating it not as the end of its utility or beauty, but instead as a moment of transformation." She runs her finger across one of the golden seams again. "I had learned this art from my mother," she says quietly; "she, too, as I've come to learn, appreciated the simpler things in life, and for many years had yearned to experience this world out of the public eye, as any common person would, rather than from the pedestal of nobility. Alas, her dream was never realized, but before she left this world, she imparted on me the importance of... mm..." She pauses a moment, as if to reorganize her thoughts, then gives Kaeya a thin smile. "New beginnings," she says finally, and his eyebrows lift sharply.
"New beginnings?" he echoes, and she nods.
"Yes," she says. "As my mother's health was failing, she knew that our family had a hard road ahead of us. My father's death was... a breakage"--her voice cracks ever so slightly, and she clears her throat--"and the foundation of the entire clan was shaken with it. But my mother urged my brother and I to take what was broken and to build something better."
Ayaka is quiet for a moment, and Kaeya dares not breathe. There is something raw and vulnerable about her posture, and he fears any sound at all would shatter the brittle moment.
"The art of kintsugi takes broken things and restores them, not to what they once were, but to something entirely new," she says finally, squaring her shoulders a bit. "We mix the repair lacquer with gold, and fill in the cracks, not to hide them, but to highlight them, to show that life may be fragile, ephemeral, but so too is it resilient and tenacious. The cracks in these fractured things, we fill them with gold to illuminate the trials, the struggles, and the persistence to continue on even after one has fallen to pieces, because it is in those cracks, those golden scars, that our strength truly lies."
If he didn't know better, Kaeya would swear this story had been tailored specifically to slug him squarely in the gut. After all, what is he but a man ripped apart and reassembled, with all the scars to show for it? He looks down at his gloved hands, visualizing the gnarled, twisted remnants of burns that had left his palms marred and ghostly pale beneath the fabric. Threading his fingers together, fidgeting, he turns to Ayaka and opens his mouth to speak, then hesitates, closing it again before looking back at the vase.
"I'd... never thought about that," he says finally, and she turns sharply to look at him, as if startled. He fidgets with his hands again before folding his arms awkwardly across his chest. "About... scars being something to celebrate," he clarifies, and then makes a sound halfway between a laugh and a cough. "I mean, they say that what doesn't kill you makes you stronger, sure, but..."
Ayaka tilts her head slightly. "But...?"
He looks at his palms again, before letting his arms fall to his sides. "I suppose I'd never stopped to consider there's something beautiful in that," he says with a watery smile, and Ayaka looks a little bit pleased.
"I would say, then, Captain, that perhaps you are beginning to understand the meaning of wabi sabi."
Ayaka hefts a sigh then, and carefully rubs her brow with both hands.
"Are you all right?" Kaeya asks, and she turns to give him a bright smile.
"I am, yes, thank you," she says, and her posture seems suddenly very straight and proud. "I've... actually never told anyone that story, before," she says.
"N-no one?" Kaeya can't quite keep the shock out of his voice or his expression. "Not even...?"
Kaeya turns to glance toward the far end of the room, where Lumine, Thoma, and the commissioner are presumably still seated round the table past a partition screen, and Ayaka shakes her head.
"Thoma is, of course, a very dear friend," she says, "but in many ways, he has been as much part of this story as my brother and I. I don't think we could have come so far as we have were it not for his help." She shifts her weight on stocking feet. "Before I met the Traveler, Thoma was the only friend I really had," she says then. "Someone such as myself, who holds a position such as I do, it's not easy for me to find equal footing with others, you see. People regard me as someone to be venerated and respected, and not to be treated with familiarity, and so... sharing personal things is a challenge for me. I find I have a hard time navigating such things, as I've never really had a guide until recently." She smiles again, bright and somehow grateful. "Miss Lumine tells me you are very popular in Mondstadt," she says, and her expression clouds with frustration. "I hope that maybe I could learn a bit, from you, about... how to be more approachable?"
It is rare for Kaeya to find himself truly surprised by anything these days, but in this moment he is genuinely stunned, not only that Kamisato Ayaka would confide such a personal story in him, but that she would have so few others with whom to share such things. The envy he'd felt before, running green and sour and heavy in his veins, has all but vanished all in an instant, replaced instead with something like sheepish understanding. Though their experiences have been vastly different, they are, in truth, shockingly alike all the same. More than that, he realizes now, as she threads and unthreads her fingers, that it seems each of them has what the other so desperately yearns for. She certainly isn't just asking him how to become Inazuma's top candidate for granddaughter-in-law. Kaeya's connections are many, but his friends, while few, are more dear to him than air; just as Ayaka seems unable to imagine her life without Thoma in it, he can't imagine he'd have gotten very far in his own without them. He wonders, suddenly, if despite being surrounded by a nation that adores her, she doesn't find herself feeling just as alone in a crowd as he often does.
"I would say you're more approachable than you give yourself credit for," he says genuinely, and then shifts gears. "Have you ever been to Mondstadt?" he asks, and Ayaka shakes her head.
"Alas, no," she says. "My brother and I have done some traveling abroad, but we never made it as far as Mondstadt."
"Then, should you find yourself with the time, I hope you'll visit," Kaeya says, gesturing with one hand. "It would be my pleasure to give you the grand tour." He grins and wags a finger. "I could probably fit a few approachability lessons in, while we're at it, if you still think you need a tutor."
Ayaka's face lights up like a lantern as she clasps her hands together near her throat. "I would love to take you up on that, Captain."
"Ah." He wags his finger again, and she blinks, puzzled. "My friends call me 'Kaeya', Miss Kamisato."
"Ah," she mimics, then looks about to apologize, before realization sets in. "I see... Kaeya." Her words are halting, as if the very idea of calling him by his given name is utterly alien to her. The puzzlement in her eyes shifts into something like solace then, and her smile aches somehow as she replies, "And mine call me 'Ayaka'."
He starts to point out that Thoma calls her something he has to presume is 'young miss', or similar, but supposes perhaps such sarcasm would ruin the moment, and instead he offers his arm.
"Then, may I escort you back to the dining table, Ayaka?" he asks. "I fear if we are both absent much longer, your brother will send a search party."
She laughs and takes his arm, and suddenly Kaeya can't help wondering if his being invited to visit Inazuma wasn't just as much for Ayaka as it was for him. It's a bit scary, sometimes, how perceptive Lumine is, but he thinks he's grateful anyway.
After two more hours of stories, snacks, and bad jokes, Lumine finally insists that it's time they get going, and Kaeya supposes it's just as well. Much as he'd like to stay longer, he really ought to head back to Mondstadt in the morning; if he takes too much time off the job, he really will be buried in paperwork when he gets back to the office, and it's a challenge to stay afloat as it is.
Thoma and the Kamisatos walk them to the entryway, and Kaeya dutifully holds Lumine's shoulder as she struggles to balance on one foot to yank her tall boot onto the other leg.
"One more dajare, before we take our leave, perhaps?" Kaeya asks, and Lumine groans. "I promise it'll be the last one," he says, ruffling her hair, and she waves a hand in acquiescence. Kaeya clears his throat and steeples his fingers together. "Surely the three of you have visited Liyue once or twice in your time, yes?" he asks, and Ayaka nods.
"We have, actually," she says; "they have the loveliest teas there. I'm so glad it's easier to have them imported, now."
"Then I take it you're familiar with the very elusive pandas that are known to roam the bamboo forests in the mountains," Kaeya says.
"Those are the bears with faces like cats, yes? With the..." Ayato pauses, wags a hand in front of his face as if to indicate his own eyes. "Mask markings, and black-patched fur?"
"Indeed," Kaeya says. "Tell me, though, do you know what a panda's favorite food is?"
Thoma rubs his chin, frowning. "I figured it was the bamboo--" he begins, but is quickly cut off when Ayaka shoots her hand up in the air as if in a classroom.
"Aa!" she gasps. "Mochiron, 'pan' da!"
Kaeya beams and points at her, one elbow cupped in his palm. "Gold star for the lady."
"Mochi-what?" Lumine looks puzzled, rising to stand now that she's pulled both boots on.
"It's bread," Thoma says, rubbing his face with a groan.
"I thought mochi was like squishy rice pastry," Lumine says, twice as confused now.
"No, it's... never mind." Thoma smears both hands down his face and shakes his head. Ayato has covered his mouth to hide his amusement, while Ayaka simply looks satisfied with her performance. Kaeya is quite proud of her progress, for that matter.
"I hope you'll keep my invitation in mind, Ayaka," he says with a smile, and Ayaka nods eagerly. Kaeya can't stop himself from grinning fiendishly at the look of pure shock on Thoma's face at the use of her given name.
As they head out onto the veranda and the door closes behind them, Paimon shoots Kaeya a narrow gaze, her mouth pinched suspiciously.
"You seem awfully pleased with yourself," she says. "That sounds like trouble, to me."
"Trouble?" Kaeya splays a hand over his chest in feigned appal. "Nothing of the sort. I had a lovely evening, can't I be pleased with that? Didn't you have a good time, as well?"
"We could have done with fewer puns," Lumine says, bumping him pointedly with her shoulder, and he folds his arms with a harrumph.
"You just don't appreciate my ability to read a room," he says. "Clearly the commissioner is a man who appreciates a good joke; a man of impeccable taste, indeed."
"Which, logically, would imply not puns," Lumine says, and this time Kaeya pointedly bumps her back with his hip.
"Still," he says after a pause, scanning the darkened, quiet landscape near the estate, "I can't thank you enough for this." He gives her a sidelong look, smiling warmly. "I desperately needed a break, and this ended up being just what the doctor ordered." He taps his chin with his index finger. "It's uncommon that I encounter such unexpected results from a first meeting."
"Unexpected?" Paimon looks puzzled, and shakes her head. "You didn't expect to come away from this with new allies?"
"I didn't expect to come away from this with a new friend."
"Uh... I don't get it," Paimon says. "Isn't that the same thing?"
"Not even close," he says with a laugh.
Lumine loops her arm through his as they walk, and Kaeya hopes Ayaka and her brother can come to Mondstadt someday. Mondstadt may not have fancy philosophies for the appreciation of that which is transient in life, but he likes to think they do a good job of seizing the days as they come, and while he thinks it's true enough that sometimes a broken plate should probably just be thrown away... maybe that isn't such a good approach to experiences. It's funny, the way two such very different lives with very different mindsets can find such stable common ground at the juncture of their principles. He doesn't think he'll have to worry about those envious feelings anymore, at least.
One thing is for certain, though: he's never going to look at a broken vase the same way ever again.