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“Do you know why Cryo Visions are associated with tragedy? Do you, do you? I'll tell you! Because they have 'cry' right in the name!”
The sun is just beginning its ascent into dawn, pale light leaving streaks of color across the palette of the sky. The breeze is already chilly from where they're perched inside the bell tower, high above the ground with their bare legs dangling off the side, but Rosaria's baleful glare makes it downright frigid.
Hu Tao can't help but laugh.
“Aiyah! If looks could kill, you would give me tons of business,” she chirps, kicking her feet back and forth. “Although something tells me you probably generate enough of that kind of business already... I should leave you my card!”
Mondstadt's funerals are typically conducted through the Church of Favonius, a religious affair involving nuns singing hymns and releasing dandelion seeds. It's not what Hu Tao is trained for, but she's here to oversee one for an expatriate client whose will requested her remains be interred in her homeland. She's just killing time until she's needed.
Rosaria takes a long drag from the cigarette pinched between her metal claws. She lets the smoke escape her bared teeth, and the playful wind snatches it away from her, diffusing it into nothingness. She offers the cigarette to Hu Tao, who politely declines on account of wanting to preserve her life expectancy.
“You're not wrong,” Rosaria shrugs, flicking her cigarette butt over the side. “But my bodies don't get buried, so they won't be worth much to you, Director.”
“And what about your own?” Hu Tao smiles unnervingly, leaning over to poke Rosaria's pallid cheek. “Don't you suppose the Sisters will bury these old bones for you? Have you written a last will?”
“Nah,” Rosaria scoffs, swatting her hand aside. “I don't deserve all that fuss. If I go out for the night and never come back, morning in Mondstadt will go on like usual.”
Rosaria isn't like the rest of the pious clergy that Hu Tao's met. She skulks in the most remote, difficult-to-reach places simply to avoid morning mass where the good Deaconess will not think to search.
“Hm hm hmm,” Hu Tao hums, gazing out at the lightening sky. The fact that there is always someone who looks for Rosaria whenever she goes missing is not lost on Hu Tao. “There's no opportunity at all for me, not even in rhyming eulogy! A crying shame! A crime, a crime! You won't be giving anyone a Cry-o Vision on behalf of your tragic demise?”
“It's only a tragedy if it happens to a good person,” Rosaria shrugs. Below her, a multicolored flock of pigeons swoop noisily down to land on the bridge, where a youth tosses seeds for them. “Otherwise it's just how life goes. People die every day. Nothing to cry about.”
As the wind picks up speed, Hu Tao watches the windmills rattle and spin to life from her vantage point with wide, fascinated eyes. Beyond the clear waters of the lake, pine trees bow to the wind's strength, genuflecting to the Anemo Archon's dominion over the land. The scent of an approaching storm only serves as reminder of the natural balance they all must uphold.
“After sunshine comes rain, and after rainfall, the sun will rise again.” Hu Tao claps her hands together and smiles. “Simple and to the point! However, consider: someone you leave behind might wish to throw you a memorial service simply because they care. You never know how much folks will miss you when you're gone!”
“Hmph.” Rosaria narrows her eyes against the morning light, expression souring. “Someone better not mean you.”
“So what if it is?” Hu Tao hops up from her perch and spins in a big circle, sparks of laughter dancing in her hellfire eyes. “You won't be able to stop me from throwing your big, pricey funeral if you're dead! Unless someone turns you into a jiangshi, but then I'll bury you all over again, half-price for returning clients~! It's nothing personal. Your church happens to have deep pockets, and my expert consultant happens to have expensive tastes.”
As Hu Tao bounces from shingle to shingle across the rooftop as though playing the world's most dangerous game of hopscotch, Rosaria sighs and slumps against the cold brassy surface of the church bell. It might be worth it to just slink back inside when Hu Tao isn't looking, and endure Barbara's lecture for skipping. Rosaria just doesn't have the energy to deal with Hu Tao's bullshit any longer.
The halls of Bimarstan's Eleazar wing are furnished with padded benches for the ease of waiting patients. Besides the handful of Amurta researchers shuffling from room to room, the hallway is largely deserted.
Point being, there are many open benches where Hu Tao could sit, and yet, she chose the seat right next to a visibly uncomfortable Collei.
“You don't... look like a doctor,” Collei says skeptically, suspicion darkening her expression. “You don't dress like you're from the Akademiya, either. Why are you here?”
She looks a little old to be playing with dolls, but she's hugging that green stuffed animal to her chest as though it's the only thing that can protect her from a terrible fate. Hu Tao impulsively reaches to touch it, and Collei yanks the plushie out of her range, scowling outright.
“Here, as opposed to the morgue, you mean? I'm visiting a very wealthy client who was willing to pay my travel expenses to get a little taste of home away from home,” Hu Tao beams. “Sumeru's healthcare is the most advanced in Teyvat! You'd be surprised how many people travel here just to get treatments from your doctors. Back in Liyue Harbor, we just have the one, and ugh, don't get me started on that guy...!”
“Mm. I don't... like doctors,” Collei mutters. A sheen of cold sweat is visible on her brow. “But I promised Master I would go to this appointment. Can... can you talk about something else?”
Hu Tao steeples her fingers. “Certainly! Have you heard of a living funeral before?” She cocks her head, peering closely as the color drains from Collei's face. “It's not an unusual request for my terminally ill clients to want to host their funeral while they're still alive, so they can attend it in person, like a celebration of life! I don't suppose it's done often in Sumeru, or else they wouldn't have needed to bring me all the way out here...”
“What,” Collei manages to gasp. Her rigid fingers are squeezing the plushie so tightly her knuckles have blanched white. “You're here for... a funeral?”
“Oh, turn that frown upside down, silly-billy! They're not dead yet!” Hu Tao cheers, kicking her feet. “Sure, it goes against tradition, but I firmly believe the client's wishes should be respected above all else. If this will help them accept their mortality and transition beyond the border without lingering regrets, then I'm all for it! Maybe you can help me decide, would Liyuean cuisine be a hit here, or should I look into local catering?”
“I don't want to talk about dying, either,” Collei chokes out. Her pupils are blown so wide her eyes are pools of black ink. “What the hell is wrong with you? Get away from me!”
“Boo!” Hu Tao smiles serenely as Collei flinches back from her voice. She's just as jumpy as Xiangling, which makes her just as much fun to mess with. Hu Tao drops her voice into a conspirator's whisper, adding, “There's nothing scary about working in the industry I do. Only once you know and respect death can you truly appreciate the value of life. But someone as strong as you probably already knows that... don't you?”
When the man in green Amurta robes calls her name, Collei has never been more relieved to rush into an exam room. Her fear of doctors has been fully eclipsed by her fear of Hu Tao.
Hu Tao hops lightly to her feet, still wreathed in a pleasant smile. "Hope that helped distract you! Toodle-oo!" she hollers after her new friend.
The door slams shut behind Collei, echoing down the empty corridor.
Wind stirs around them, the brisk air of Mount Yougou rustling the star-like flowers that grow in shaded patches throughout the secluded ravine. Hu Tao chatters on mindlessly to the open air, as Kazuha observes with an air of muted amusement. Kazuha is one of the rare few not repulsed by the unfiltered chaos of words that tumble from her lips, as numerous as there are stars in the sky. Nor does he comment on her ceaseless motion, her tuneless humming, her odd noises, all of the quirks she can only restrain for so long in polite company.
He simply walks alongside her, and lets her be.
“A cat, a cat! Look at the cat! Oya-ya-ya, you remind me of my kitties back home, Mittens and Whiskers!” Hu Tao rubs the friendly tomcat between the ears, flashing a grin as he begins to purr. “Their fur might be harder, but they're just as fluffy!”
“You would accept attention from even a stranger now?” Kazuha remarks, regarding the cat. “You must be lonely indeed.”
The stray cat soon abandons Hu Tao in favor of weaving between Kazuha's legs, rubbing an affectionate cheek here and there, and leaving white hairs sticking to his crimson fabric.
“Ah,” Hu Tao blurts. “Well, that's one way Mittens and Whiskers are superior. No shedding!”
Kazuha crouches to stroke the cat, smiling as the stray purrs louder. “It's been too long, old friend,” he murmurs. “I hope life has been kind to you here.”
Hu Tao stretches her arms above her head, restless energy making her constantly fidget. She can hear crows gathering in the trees nearby, attracted by the offerings of food at the roadside shrines. Perhaps that's what keeps the cat's belly as round as Guoba's, too.
“There's no ghost here,” Hu Tao announces. “In case you were wondering.”
“I am relieved to know my friend will not become a vengeful spirit,” Kazuha says wryly. He settles on his knees in the grass, folding his bandaged fingers neatly in his lap. “That is not why I asked you to accompany me, though. I know, with more certainty than anyone, that he has long departed this world.”
“Those who pass without regrets do not linger. Hyu~!”
Hu Tao flops on her back next to Kazuha, kicking her legs up into the air to amuse herself. The white cat sprawls in a nearby beam of sunlight, content to nap while they talk.
“The regrets are not his, but my own,” Kazuha explains. His gentle voice remains as calm as ever, but she does not miss the fierce light in his eyes, nor his wrapped hand curling into an unfeeling fist. “Had he not been executed by the Raiden Shogun, he would have been transported to his family's land, and honored with a new name in death. His remains would be cremated and join those of his ancestors, not be thrown into a mass grave.”
Kazuha falls quiet as he gazes at the hilt of the broken katana thrust into the mound as gravemarker. The elements of nature have dulled the katana's once-proud steel to a muddy, rusted hue. At its base lays an empty Vision shell, hollowed of ambition.
“...I would have picked the bones from his ashes and placed them in his urn, one by one, as I did for my father. My friend was no criminal,” Kazuha adds in a bare whisper. “He deserves his dignity.”
Hu Tao sits up, long hair spilling into her lap. She fishes a stick of Liyuean incense from her coat pocket, and waves it at Kazuha like a wand, tapping him on the crown of his head.
“Some say send-offs aren't for the dead at all. They're to bring closure to the living. You want me to perform the parting rites he was denied, don't you,” Hu Tao guesses.
“A selfish request, I know,” Kazuha murmurs. He folds his body into a deep bow, formally lowering himself before her. He so rarely asks for anything at all. “Should your services require Mora, I can send remuneration via the Alcor. Otherwise, I shall owe you a personal debt to be repaid in any way you see fit. I swear it on my sword.”
A wave of heat. A flurry of sparks resembling the crimson wings of a butterfly. The incense bursts alight, casting a flickering shadow over Hu Tao's eerie smile.
“This one will be on the house, in exchange for putting up with me,” Hu Tao winks. “Now, tell me more about your friend!”
Rain pours down from the clouds in heavy sheets, obscuring the world through curtains of water. Hu Tao huddles underneath the brim of the Wanderer's wide hat, much to his evident disapproval. She tugs on his sleeve to get his attention, blithely ignoring the tension that stiffens his posture at the distant rumble of thunder.
“Oya! If this wind gets any stronger, my hat's gonna get blown away!” Hu Tao giggles, pulling the stiff brim of her black hat lower. “How do you keep yours on your head? Is there a trick? Show me, show me!”
“Tsk.” The Wanderer rolls his eyes. “You're so damn irritating, following me around. There's no need to force a conversation just to occupy silence.”
Hu Tao's grin is sharp and full of teeth. “Silence has its place, but I find it most interesting to hear people's stories, their opinions, the contents of their hearts! Aren't you ever curious about other people? Don't you ever want to crack them open, and see the gooey bits on the inside?”
“No,” the Wanderer snaps. “And if you ask me any more ridiculous questions like that, I'm going to leave you here in the hopes that you get struck by lightning. It's a more merciful end than an idiot like you deserves.”
“'Deserve'?” Hu Tao leans in closer, the twin pyres of her eyes burning unnaturally bright. “No one deserves to live, any more than they deserve to die! There's no inherent morality to existence itself. It just is!”
The Wanderer raises an eyebrow. Despite his best attempts to conceal it, he looks vaguely intrigued.
“Some people deserve to die for the suffering they cause,” he says darkly, crossing his arms. “Do you believe such people deserved to live in the first place?”
“Of course,” Hu Tao says without hesitation. “No one chooses to be born, nor do they choose the circumstances of the life they are given. Gods, adepti, humans. What one does with that life, that is their choice. Balance must be maintained, but destinies remain variable. Only choices can be viewed through the lens of morality, for no one's fate is sealed from the beginning.”
Rain drips from the brim of the Wanderer's hat. He is silent for a moment, considering, then his mouth twists into a sneer.
“Foolish. If all they do is bring about disaster and death, then what is the point of such an existence? Some people are created only to suffer. It would be better for everyone if they were never born.”
“I never said there was a point!” Hu Tao grins, clapping a hand to the Wanderer's back and making him flinch. “You're so hung up on assigning value and meaning to everything. You just live until you die, like everybody else! But you'd have to tell me your story, if you want me to understand where you're coming from~!”
“I never said I was talking about myself, you wretched vermin,” the Wanderer grouses, throwing off Hu Tao's arm. “Know your place. Touch me again with that hand, and I will snap it off and make you swallow it.”
Hu Tao titters to herself, delighted by the way the Wanderer sulks. She doesn't doubt his threats are genuine, but she is unintimidated by them all the same. Whether she dies today or a hundred years from now, she will go without regrets to hold her back.
She falls into a pensive silence, listening to the steady patter of raindrops hitting the hat that shelters them both. When she speaks again, Hu Tao's voice is softer, almost lost beneath the rumble of thunder over the mountains.
“Whatever your experiences may be, I think you must understand the nature of mortality better than most,” Hu Tao remarks. “There's no fairness to who lives or dies. Some losses come too soon. But the fragility of existence is what makes it so poignant. As my grandfather used to say: live in life, die in death. Follow your heart, and do your best. That's all us mortals can do!”
“Your 'heart', huh,” the Wanderer repeats. He exhales in a sharp sigh. “You sound like her,” he adds scornfully.
If the Wanderer has someone as wise as her grandfather in his life, then he doesn't need to listen to Hu Tao's rambling. Hu Tao pokes two fingers into the frowning corners of his mouth, and drags his cheeks upward into an unwilling smile. Much better!
A flash of pain bursts below her knee. Hu Tao drops to the muddy ground, still laughing, as the Wanderer readies his foot to kick her again.