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“So, the whole Conqueror of Demons thing…”
“You don’t need to worry,” Xiao tells Itto, eyes on the ground far below where they’re situated on the roof of Wangshu Inn. The sky above Liyue is a bright orange in the late evening, casting long shadows over the nation. The wind has become chilly and he subconsciously rubs at his arm to warm up. He can feel Itto’s attention on him, unwavering and sincere. “Oni aren’t among the demons that I’m called upon to exorcize,” he clarifies.
He sees Itto nod in his peripherals. “Hm, hm, good, okay. So I don’t need to worry about you pushing me off the roof or nothin’?”
Xiao can’t help a low snort, finally dragging his eyes up to the Oni. “Of course not.” Had he not just done his best to save this Oni and the others from the Chasm? Of course, Itto had been well and truly unconscious during Xiao’s efforts, which is what brought the man to Wangshu Inn in the first place. Xiao had tried to persuade him otherwise. He had wanted some time alone, in need of a few moments to collect his thoughts after the onslaught of memories in the wake of encountering what little was left of Bosacius. But Itto was stubborn.
And wasn’t that just the kicker? The one person in their ragtag party who had sought him out was the very one whose eyes were just as bright, just as wild, just as full of good hearted kindness as Bosacius’s own had been. It gave Xiao some thread of… hope. For so long he had isolated himself, destined himself to be the last of the Yaksha that defended this nation—he hadn’t allowed himself to think such character existed anymore in this world. He imprisoned the memories he held of his late friends in his mind’s eye, steadfastly refusing to believe this land could recreate their spirit or mirth without their physical presence. He had expected to keep to this until he too, one day would succumb to madness.
Never had he expected that his final mission to discover the truth of Bosacius would land him in with the very sort of crowd that Xiao had so long considered a part of his past. Never had he expected someone as big and full of life to charge into his world, upending his desperate solitude.
And so, ultimately, he could not send Itto away.
Had he not promised the Traveler he would try to return to the land of the living, only mere days prior? He could not go back on his word, especially not when it was in the face of such life and spirit. He didn’t want to go back on his word, in the face of such life and spirit. Bosacius may never return, but it felt like a gift, to be given another chance at affection for others.
A sharp poke to his bicep has him jerking his attention back from the ground where it had settled again.
“You okay there?” Itto asks, concern written over his face. “Kinda’ zoning out again. You do that a lot, eh?”
“Apologies,” Xiao clears his throat, shakes the hair out of his eyes and does a better job of keeping his thoughts on the present. A poor habit he would need to learn to break. “I’m a little too used to being alone.”
“Oh,” Itto tosses a thumb over his shoulder. “I can bail if you’re still recovering from everything—“
“No,” Xiao interrupts quickly. “I didn’t mean… it’s just going to… take me some practice. Being around people again.”
Itto kicks his feet over the edge of the roof a bit, looking like he was ready to hop down if Xiao said the word. He isn’t the most graceful of creatures, and it had taken him a minute to hoist himself all the way up there—to so willingly undo that hard work if Xiao really requested solitude… “All I really wanted to do was thank you, y’know, since I was—uh—down for the count during it all. And from what everyone’s said, you really saved our skins back there. So if you want me to scram, say the word, my dude!”
“Really,” Xiao says, “You don’t need to… scram. I appreciate that you wanted to visit before you depart for Inazuma. I’m only afraid I’m not great company.”
“Psshh,” Itto waves him off. “You kidding? So long as you’re not doing your whole demon conquering thing on me, you’re solid in my book! Hell, you haven’t told me to shut up yet or tried to arrest me, you’d fit in great with the rest of the gang, in fact!”
A low bar it seems. “I don’t think I’m ready for something that… social. But this is good,” Xiao reiterates, mostly for himself. “Maybe one day I’ll meet them.”
“Oh, they’d love you! Kuki already does, and the others would be tripping over themselves to meet someone like you. You’re a total hero after all! And, boss to boss, even I’m pretty impressed. It wouldn’t take long to win anyone else over.”
Xiao rather doubts that, but the sentiment is kind. In fact, he’s not felt so… included in centuries. He had forgotten how nice it was, to feel a part of something. He smiles lightly, realizing his eyes had slipped downward again. He forces his attention back to the Oni.
“Thank you, Itto,” he tells the other man, letting his shoulders relax a fraction despite the darkening sky and the cool breeze.
“Eh? I’m the one that’s supposed to be thanking you! Is it for punching the wall down in the Chasm? Shinobu said it was stupid and didn’t actually help anything but…” he tapers off, grumbling a little.
“Not for that,” Xiao shakes his head. “Just for being here.”
“Oh!” Itto laughs, “Well that’s easy enough! Hard to miss us Oni when we come through, after all!”
It’s not exactly what Xiao means, but Itto is smiling wide with those white teeth, and so Xiao doesn’t try to reword himself again. He chews on the inside of his cheek for a moment as Itto begins in on a tangent about the Oni in Inazuma; some folk legend that split the blue and crimson Oni once upon a time. (“There’s a reason we paint our horns like this, y’know, so they really stand out. There used to be…”) Xiao listens intently for a few beats before his mind inevitably wanders, despite his efforts.
Demons have been Xiao’s forte for nearly two millennia, but he has never exactly sat one down to tea before. Or, more accurately, had one climb up to the roof of the Inn and sit down next to Xiao as if they were old friends before. He had been around for so long and hadn’t, until now, really thought about what lore or culture demons could possibly possess in their own right.
He supposes, if he was trying to be more human, he may as well try to add some Oni into the equation as well.
“Itto,” he interrupts.
“And then Takuya goes—hm?”
“Is there any particular way Oni say thank you to one another?” Bowing, shaking hands, gift giving, paying for a meal; all things he could do. Surely Oni had their own customs. It would be worthwhile to add this to his repertoire. And Itto made it so easy, carrying the weight of conversation, taking on the burden of amity, it seemed like an easy progression. He wanted to give something back.
“The way Oni say…” Itto parrots, and then shifts his eyes to the landscape of Liyue, scratching the back of his neck. “Ah, same as humans, just a thank you works fine. We don’t really have… I mean, there used to be… non-Oni think it’s sorta’ weird, what we do.”
Xiao raises his eyebrows. He’s seen a lot, it couldn’t be that odd, whatever this custom is. “I’d like to know,” he says, “If it’s something someone who is not an Oni is allowed to practice.” Or not an Inazuman. For as glad as he was for the common tongue, he wondered how much nuance was lost in their translation from Liyuen and Inazuman.
“Yeah, you can, I mean, it’s not like…” Itto inhales, then turns a little more fully to Xiao to sit cross legged. “So, okay, a bunch of millennia ago, Oni used to have big ol’ fangs,” he moves his index fingers up to his mouth to give the impression of long tusks. “Looked badass, let me tell you, but not real practical as we Oni started integrating with human society. Eventually, we kind of evolved out of it. Still got some sharp canines, but that’s about it.” He shrugs, dropping his hands back to his lap. “So, back then—and this was for warriors, brothers in arms, and whatnot—in order to show gratitude they’d knock their teeth together. Getting that close to someone else’s teeth was like, a sign of trust both ways, right?”
“Of course,” Xiao nods along. There was a reason he donned such a mask himself, fashioned after the very personification of what he was built to destroy. It was rather fanciful, that the demons who fought together would show their gratitude in such a way that from the outside world could appear dangerous.
“Well, we don’t really got them fangs anymore,” Itto continues, “But we’ll still kinda’… clack our teeth together to say thanks. Did it with my bud Takuya in front of the gang without really thinking and everyone about flipped their lids, thinking I kissed him!” He rolls his eyes fondly. “And listen, Takuya’s my bro, he’s my guy, but ain’t no way he’d ever kiss me. It’s totally different, what Oni do. But I can see that it looks weird to everyone else.”
Huh, Xiao thinks. Well, that’s not so bad.
“But it’s not real important to do it anymore, it’s kinda’ just—“
Cutting him off, Xiao inches over and takes the back of Itto’s neck, leaning in while the Oni still has his mouth open and lightly clacks their front teeth together, turning his head in attempts to angle it properly. He isn’t entirely sure he’s doing it right, and he closes his mouth too soon, their lips dragging together for a heated instant. He can feel Itto’s warmth at every point he’s touching the Oni and a part of him wants to linger, to stay tucked in this heat, nose to nose, protected against his ever racing mind and the dark sky above.
Eventually however, he pulls back.
Based on how wide Itto’s eyes grow and how his cheeks flush nearly as red as the tattoos that trail down from his eyes, Xiao’s fairly certain he completely messed up his assignment. He feels his own face heating up in the wake of what he’d just done, and he’s very nearly about to vanish on the spot—social attempts be damned. Except he feels frozen in place, his heart inexplicably hammering in his chest and something that feels like too much anemo energy swirling about his lungs.
The minute hangs as wind ruffles silver hair around crimson horns.
He breaks the tension, snapping his hand back from Itto’s neck with an excuse or an apology in the back of his throat, getting stuck there. He clamps his mouth shut instead.
Itto blinks hard at him and then clears his throat, “That, um… that was close,” his voice breaks a little. “But it’s a little more like…”
He gently puts a clawed hand behind Xiao’s head and leans in, waits half a beat for Xiao to open his mouth slightly, and knocks their teeth together almost painfully. He’s out of Xiao’s space before their lips can slide together again and Xiao can’t help but feel like a vital part of the act is missing. He almost chases Itto’s lips, but if Xiao was anything, it was restrained and so he holds his ground. His heart settles and Itto is far less red in the face when Xiao gets his eyes on the Oni once more.
His teeth tingle and it stings a bit where they were struck together. Not altogether unpleasant. But he thinks, incredulously and against his better judgment, that Itto’s mouth could be used for something much more pleasurable.
The way Itto’s bright, crimson eyes similarly drag down to Xiao’s mouth, he can’t help but imagine the Oni must feel something of the same way. He wondered how far he’d have to go to topple them over that edge—if he’d have to go far at all, or if this demon would take initiative himself. He takes a few breaths to steady himself.
The sun has long since set and the lingering purples and pinks color Itto’s sharp features in a striking sort of way, making him look much softer than he does in the daylight or in the eerie blackness of the Chasm. More rationally, Xiao thinks he could get used to his company, much like he had grown so fond of Bosacius and the others, despite their rambunctiousness clashing like butting bulls against Xiao’s reserved nature. He had built up so many walls over the years, but it seems they were not built without cracks and could be easily torn down if only someone took the time.
Finally, he tears his eyes away from Itto’s mouth and looks onto the scenery of the marsh. What would Indarius and Bonanus have said of him? These thoughts plaguing him so abruptly.
No, they would not have judged, he concludes with an exhale. For them to have seen Xiao, still in his right mind, finally keeping the company of others after centuries alone—they would have been proud. It’s a difficult thought to come to terms with, but he does so for their sake. The Traveler had been onto something, he thinks. As had Morax and Yanfei and all the rest.
Itto’s hand abruptly wraps around Xiao’s shoulder and the Yaksha is suddenly being pulled tight against the Oni. He startles at the movement, nearly tearing his polearm from spacetime, ready for a fight. But Itto wraps his arms around him, tugging him chest to back and dropping his chin in Xiao’s hair as they both look out on Liyue, successfully cocooning Xiao in place.
“You’re zoning again, little dude,” Itto informs the top of his head.
It takes a long while, but slowly Xiao relaxes in the other man’s grasp, letting the warmth and hold on him lull him into something mirroring comfort. “Apologies,” he says for the second time that evening. “I will need to work on it.”
“Got all the time in the world,” Itto says.
After a moment, he wriggles, getting more comfortable in Itto’s hold. He tucks a knee up and finally fully rests his weight on the Oni, staring out to the marshes and hesitantly wrapping his arms around Itto’s, where they’re resting on his stomach. He suspects his weight isn’t infringing too much on the larger man. He nuzzles his nose to the top of Xiao’s hair.
“Is this another Oni custom?”
“This?” Itto huffs, and Xiao feels his hair rustle at his breath. “Nah, this is just livin’ and breathin’.”
Xiao doesn’t have a lot to say to that. Living and breathing is something else he adds to his list of things to relearn. But perhaps it will be a learning experience he will enjoy.
The Yaksha doesn’t dare call this warmth, this feeling, home—home has long since gone, something he cannot return to. Though maybe it’s a bit like lingering down a well worn trail, a path he knows like the back of his hand and that will always welcome him back. That, he can settle on.
The stars begin to sparkle overhead and with a sigh, Xiao lets his eyes slip shut. He’ll need to thank Itto again later.