Chapter Text
The boy sat on the hardwood ground in a small room in the colossal mansion, still as a puddle on a windless day. He sat with his legs crossed and his eyes closed, as silent as he was still, the stagnant air empty of all movement and sound. Not even the slow, steady breaths of a person at rest escaped from the boy’s lungs. He had no need for breathing, after all.
Despite having the appearance of a beautiful (yet eccentric) young man, the one who sat alone in the pavilion was not exactly a man or a boy at all. He was an artificial being—a puppet—with as little knowledge of the humanity as a mere infant who had just been brought into the world. Created by the nation’s archon as a prototype for a vessel for her soul, the boy had been left by his creator in Shakkei Pavilion, the magnificent yet empty mansion hidden within a mountain, away and secluded from the people of Inazuma. The puppet knew nothing of the world outside the mansion, and he had nothing to do to pass his time besides dwelling on the painful events of his creation and abandonment in still silence.
But little did the young man know that his dull and uneventful days would soon be coming to an end, as Shakkei Pavilion, hidden as it may have been from outside view, was not immune to being breached. For the young and naive puppet who lived within the pavilion, his whole world was about to shift and change into something new.
Katsuragi, a young samurai who was the yoriki of Inspector Mikoshi Nagamasa, had been sent to investigate a landslide that devastated one of the mountains in Tatarasuna. When he broke through the debris caused by the rockfall, he had no idea that what he did would shatter the seal that hid away the mansion within the mountain. The last thing he expected was to find a person inside.
“What the—“ Katsuragi muttered, grunting as he pushed away a pile of rocks, revealing something that had no business being buried within a mountain: a set of double doors with an intricate pattern carved into the wood and a glowing Electro symbol in place of handles. Curiosity getting the better of him, he pushed on the symbol, and something clicked before the doors opened.
Katsuragi’s eyes widened in awe and surprise, seeing that the torches were already lit, and he gaped at the grand interior of the mansion that was revealed when he opened the doors. He took a tentative step inside, his gaze travelling across the entrance hall, settling on a weapon display with an artisan ornamental katana, the metal of the sword glinting in the dim torchlight. He reached out to touch the blade, assessing it as only someone with experience in weaponsmithing would, but something about the sword made him feel just a slight bit uneasy. The katana and the weapon rack were both free from even the slightest trace of dust, something that should have been impossible in an uninhabited mansion buried within a mountain. The clean, dusted weapon rack, along with the burning torches—someone was living in Shakkei Pavilion.
“This doesn’t make any sense,” Katsuragi murmured, walking deeper into the mansion, occasionally glancing behind at the door, afraid that it would suddenly slam shut on him and trap him inside.
“What doesn’t make sense?” A voice rang out, echoing throughout the mansion.
The yoriki jumped in shock and then backed up against the wall, guarding his body with his arms in front of him. His eyes darted from place to place, trying to figure out where the voice came from. Footsteps that were nearly silent became more and more audible, and a figure approached where Katsuragi stood.
A young man with dark violet hair dressed in white and purple, with a golden feather on a long red rope around his neck, a feather was a bit too familiar to the yoriki. Katsuragi’s gaze travelled to the young man’s face, settling upon violet-blue eyes that were curious and innocent, apart from a tinge of bitterness that shone through them.
“Who are you?” The same voice that the yoriki had heard from earlier left this young man’s lips.
“My name is Katsuragi, I’m a yoriki for the Mikoshi Clan. What’s your name?” His arms fell to his side as he relaxed his posture, losing any sense of intimidation he had from before he saw the boy’s face.
The youth frowned, cocking his head to the side. “My name?”
“Your name, you know, the thing that people call you?”
The young man shook his head. “I speak to no one. I have no name.”
Katsuragi stared at him for a moment before letting out a sigh. “Alright, nameless boy.” His gaze travelled towards the direction of mansion’s doors. “Did you perhaps want to leave this place?”
“Leave this place?” The boy echoed, furrowing his brows.
Did this person know nothing? “Leave, you know, meaning—“
“Yes.” The young man interrupted. “I want to get out of here.”
Katsuragi’s face brightened, and he reached out to take the person’s hand. The young man did not resist, freely intertwining his fingers with Katsuragi’s, and so the yoriki pulled him towards the mansion’s exit and out into the expanse of the outside world.
“Master, I have returned.” Katsuragi knelt down on one knee before a regal looking man dressed in gold-accented brocade attire. The unnamed young man stood beside him with a puzzled look on his face, wondering what the yoriki could possibly be doing.
“Stand up, Katsuragi.” The elegantly dressed man sighed as the yoriki complied. “Haven’t I told you that there is no need for you to bow before me?”
Bowing—so that was what Katsuragi was doing. The puppet made a mental note, just as he did when he observed every other human’s behaviour since he left the pavilion.
“Master, this is the young man I found in a hidden mansion when investigating the landslide caused by those Crystal Marrow miners.” Katsuragi glanced towards the puppet, who looked down at the ground. “The gold feather he has on him, that’s a symbol of the Shogun, isn’t it?”
As the yoriki said these words, the puppet froze in his spot. He thought he had been vague when explaining his identity, having merely stated that he was an artificial being made by a powerful individual, a detail Katsuragi had just finished relaying to his master.
The yoriki’s master—Mikoshi Nagamasa, as the puppet was told—reached down to touch the feather the boy wore against his chest. “He even looks very much like the Raiden Shogun, doesn’t he? I presume there was a good reason that our dear archon fashioned an artificial human that resembled her likeness, but given the fact he was so discreetly hidden away, I think it unwise to reveal this information to anyone else.” The Inspector turned towards the puppet. “Take care not to reveal your identity to anyone you meet, for it may have dire consequences upon our nation.”
The young man nodded, and Katsuragi patted him on the back, giving a half smile.
“I think it’s about time for me to introduce you to everyone else at the camp.” The yoriki took the young man’s hand again, much like he did when they were leaving the mansion, and the puppet felt a slight twinge of warmth in his chest.
He gave Katsuragi’s hand a slight squeeze. “Thank you.” He smiled, and the yoriki smiled back, before pulling the puppet closer to a group of people at the camp.
“Everyone,” Katsuragi called out. “I would like you to meet the kabukimono I met who was wandering on the shore. He will be joining us from this day forth.”
One young man approached them, an earnest looking man with red-streaked brown hair. “Hello, I’m Niwa Hisahide. Do you have a name, or should we just call you ‘kabukimono’?” Niwa laughed, but the puppet had little understanding of what a joke was.
“I have no name. Kabukimono can be my name if you so wish.”
“Welcome to our camp, Kabukimono.” Niwa swung his arm around the puppet, and Kabukimono’s cheeks started turning the slightest bit pink. The same twinge of warmth he felt when Katsuragi grabbed his hand began growing into something greater in his chest. Niwa continued, grinning at him. “This will be your home now.”
“Home,” Kabukimono echoed, looking around the camp. “I have never had a home before.”
Niwa’s voice held a hint of surprise. “What about your family? Where do they live?”
The puppet gave a vehement shake of his head, staring at the ground. “I don’t have a family.”
Niwa squeezed his arm. “Well then, we can be your family from now on, if that’s okay?”
Kabukimono nodded, raising his head to peer into Niwa’s kind brown eyes, and to both Niwa’s surprise as well as his own, he let out a short laugh.
“What is it? Did I say something wrong?” Niwa’s eyes widened.
“No, it’s just— never mind.” The boy smiled as the twinge of warmth he was feeling before had blossomed into something more, his body filling with warm emotion. For the first time since his creation, the puppet felt happy and hopeful for the days to come.