Work Text:
“Have you heard? Lady Kamisato has returned to Inazuma!”
“And what a fine young woman she has become. These past two years have clearly treated her well!”
“A fortuitous moment to return, too. Just in time for her brother’s engagement.”
Yes. It was no exaggeration to say that the citizens of Inazuma were entranced by this news. After all, it had been quite a shock to the masses when, seemingly out of nowhere, the Yashiro commissioner made the diplomatic decision to send his sister abroad. Quite a shock to the young lady too, whispered the people, since she had always lived a life of comfort and luxury at home, never once before setting a silk tabi outside of Inazuma’s borders. She must be anxious. But oh, wasn’t she handling it ever so nobly and maturely? And at the tender age of eighteen!
She was to study literature, art, history, technology, politics, and all manner of other things in the hope of becoming a member of the Fontaine court. And with the help of only a few trusted advisors, would act as a foreign emissary to the Yashiro commission and – by extension – the shogun. The proposal, apparently, had even gained the approval of the wider tri-commission, offering their support by promising the correspondence of various military, trade and cultural experts wherever necessary.
The people of Inazuma could not quite believe it.
Such a show of unity between factions so at odds with each other for most of living memory. Such a show of transparency and openness to the outside world. Eternity. The Sakoku decree. The Inazuma they knew. It was all changing. But if the gossip was anything to go by, it was also incredibly exciting.
As Lady Kamisato disembarked from her ship, alone but for a few porters to help carry her luggage, sounds of awe and pride could be heard wherever eyes followed. They praised her outland fashions, the way she held her head high, her newfound strength of presence and confidence. Lady Kamisato had forgone her fan. She no longer obscured her face from view.
The woman of twenty who stepped back onto Inazuma’s shores was undoubtedly different to the shy girl who had left. She held herself differently, but there was no mistaking her noble character as she bowed to the people, listened to their worries intently and spoke such that none would mistake her words for placid reassurance. Smiling at the children, she patted every head and passed out the little powdery soft pastries she had brought with her: rare jewels the way they sparkled, magnified in small, wide eyes.
***
“Brother!”
Dressed informally, Lord Kamisato held his sword in steady form. It drew a perfect line towards his opponent, a samurai who had served long under his father before him, angled to disarm his mentor. Face showing the glow of exercise, expression alight with the satisfaction of clashing metal on metal, he placed his feet firmly, readying himself for the attack. The commencement of another bout had just been agreed between the two warriors when the ever-quiet halls of the Kamisato estate burst into sound.
Wood creaking, socked footsteps on tatami, then… the call.
Ayaka dropped her bags unabashedly in the entranceway, shucking off her fine boots before breaking into a run. Ayato’s head turned, losing focus – the death of a warrior in the heat of battle, he was sure to be chastised for it later – and barely had time to sheath his sword before a great weight crashed into him. The old samurai sheathed his weapon in kind, resuming his normal stance. The twitch of a smile might even have crossed his lips as he turned to leave the private courtyard.
His younger sister threw her arms around Ayato’s neck, squeezing him with all her considerable strength, her face tucked tightly into the worn cloth of his shoulder. The momentum of her attack – not the type, nor angle of attack he had been expecting at all – forced them into a spin. He brought his arms around her back, both to reciprocate her embrace and to prevent them both from toppling over as he stumbled. Her hair tickled his cheek, and even through the practical breastplate pressing against his ribs, he fancied he felt the beat of twin hearts come to slow, then beat once again, resuming their synchronicity. A smile pinched at his face like a mother.
It was good to see her again.
He had coped. He would always cope, especially for the sake of her happiness. But in the end, he could not help the feeling of… rightness that came flooding back with her. Comfort. Surety. The two pieces brought together. Just the Kamisato siblings against the rest of the world. And Thoma. (Always Thoma.)
When the pair came to a stop, he set her back down on her grass-stained feet and she drew back to hold him at arms-length, beaming, happiness practically radiating outwards through every pore.
“I have missed you,” she said, smile not breaking for a second, “Dreadfully.”
The difference in her demeanour was startling. The way she ran. Hugged him carefree. The only place he had seen his sister run before had been on the battlefield. Letters had come from her, of course, but none of those joyful ramblings about her travels could have prepared him. When he thought of her just months before her departure: pale, withdrawn, almost completely silent… Even when he thought of her prior to that. Her isolation. Her anxiousness to please, to be perfect. Well, it made him a little sad, to be honest.
Just how long had he held her back from being this person?
He gave a light laugh, regardless, “And I, you.”
She really did look… brighter. Being in love will do that to a person, he supposed.
“How went your intrepid adventure in Fontaine?” He asked.
“Ah,” Ayaka let go of her brother’s arm as if suddenly alarmed. “Forgive me, brother,” she looked down, adopting some of her old self-effacing nature, “I do not return because I have succeeded in my mission. I have met with several senior dignitaries and have built up significant rapport, however… to put it plainly, there is a lot of old ground to rake over. The people of Fontaine are proud and are used to being known and respected for their ingenuity. I believe they took being shut out by the Sakoku decree as a personal offence by our archon to theirs. Some of them may trust me, but I am not ignorant enough to say that they trust Inazuma yet. Any deals we have discussed at this point are tentative at best…”
She went on. Ayato tried his best to appear invested. However.
“And forgive me, sister,” he said with a note of exasperation, “if I do not immediately jump at the opportunity to discuss business.”
Her eyes moved up; confusion written in them.
“Though your enthusiasm is appreciated.” He nudged encouragingly, “If a little unexpected. I thought you would have much more important things on your mind.”
He commented smoothly, the friendly jab rolling off his tongue.
“Let me clarify my question. I was referring to matters of a more personal, and infinitely less dull nature. How have those adventures been?”
With that, a glowing grin broke over her face yet again. She moved to grasp his hands, gratefully.
“Bliss. Truly,” she said, her speech reverent.
He matched her expression, compelled to. “I’m glad.”
Her smile turned wistful, “No amount of thanks will ever be enough.”
“Then give me none. I do not need them.”
Ayaka chuckled, “I’m afraid that is not possible, you will hear at least one. Thank you, brother. I mean it.”
They stayed still for a moment, in comfortable silence.
“Where is she? Did she not accompany you on this trip?”
“Am I not enough?” she said with a hint of sarcasm, “I know the illustrious traveller has a draw…”
Eying her with mock contempt persuaded her to relent, though still with a smirk on her face.
“Lumine was waylaid by her work. She insisted that I go ahead, and since she was not in any great danger, I had no reason to refuse. She is coming – a day or so behind me at most. And besides, I could not wait-”. Ayaka frowned through this last phrase as if pulled back down to earth.
“What is this I hear of you getting married? And why did I have to hear about it from foreign diplomats? Why was I not told?” She glowered. It was a pity Ayato could never picture his little sister as anything near threatening because she was really giving it some effort. She was very obviously angry, even if it still came off as adorable, and he couldn’t say she didn’t have the right to be.
“I am sorry.”
“You’re sorry?” As he failed to elaborate, Ayaka’s expression of disdain morphed into one of concern in an instant. “What is going on here? Something is not right.”
A beat of silence passed.
“What am I missing? Ayato, tell me.” She squeezed his hand, “Always tell me. Like I can always tell you, remember?”
He could not remain a mute statue in the face of her earnest belief.
“It is only an engagement. The marriage itself has not been settled. Nothing is settled.” His tone was airy, but his forced rationality became more apparent as he spoke. “It is not uncommon for engagements to be broken off and reformed.”
Ayaka crossed her arms across her chest.
“It sounds as if you do not want this hypothetical marriage to happen. You know, a wise person once told me that one never has to marry, should one not wish to. Wise but hypocritical I am beginning to realise.”
“I believe that wise person said you would not have to marry if you did not wish to.”
“Ayato.” He noticed he had been avoiding her eye. “Why would you not wish to marry?” She asked, softly, “It’s my understanding that, unlike me, you have looked forward to the prospect in the past. Why not now? What has changed?”
“Oh nothing,” he uttered, voice still unnaturally light, “Lady Kayo is a perfectly good match. Very intelligent, an excellent conversationalist, accomplished in many respects.”
Ayaka blinked slowly. “H-,” she moved her head in a minute shake, “What?”
Ayato looked at her strangely, “The engagement is with Tanabe Kayo, Lord-,”
“Yes, Lord Tanabe’s daughter. I am aware of her credentials.” She paused for thought, “Who arranged this match?”
“I did.”
She stared at him.
“For the archons’ sake, why?” The words seemed to be contained within a disbelieving laugh. There was certainly no humour in them. “You have had, what? Three conversations with Tanabe Kayo over the course of our entire lives? Unless the two of you have become inexplicably close during my absence, which I doubt. You cannot even know her. How can you possibly love her?”
“You are not naïve, little sister. You should know that in my position love is not necessary for a marriage to be successful.”
“I know that, but…” She trailed off, gaze imploring. Pitying.
Ayato narrowed his eyes, “Why are you so surprised? When I said the engagement was with Lady Kayo. Who did you expect me to choose?”
“Ayato, I have seen your happiness before and I do not believe you will be happy with Miss Tanabe. In my heart, I do not.”
Her pleas fell on deaf ears. “Ayaka,” he interrupted, “Who were you thinking of?”
A long, torturous moment followed where neither spoke. His sister seemed to be considering her next words carefully. When he met her eyes, they were full of meaning.
“I assumed,” she enunciated, “That we were on the same page in this, brother.”
Lord Kamisato did not reply.
His younger sister sighed heavily. No voices had been raised but there remained a certain tension in the air, a far cry from their earlier harmony.
“I just cannot understand how you can do so much for me, care so much for me, and simultaneously be so cavalier about your own life. Do you not deserve just as much? Just as full an existence? Why do you not count?”
A part of Ayato thought to laugh with a kind of twisted pride, as he recollected that he was in a way, the facilitator of this lecture. She was certainly speaking her mind now.
“Because I love you, I will support you if this is what you truly want, just as you would have supported me. But I hope you realise that this is not right before it is too late.”
***
Ayaka lay in her chambers. Her possessions piled at the door: bags still packed, bed still made, clothes unhung ‘and creasing by the minute’ she would have normally been reminded. Despite knowing this very well, however, she made no effort to move as her brain slowly chewed over its food for thought of the day. The situation was worse than she had expected. Granted, she wasn’t exactly sure what she had expected, but…
For an intelligent person, she could not account for how clueless her elder brother seemed to be. How could he not see that they were having the same conversations again and again? If she could only make him see.
“Ah, but therein lies the crux of it,” her father would have said, with a gentle, knowing look, “Hime, there is no way for one person to fully know the mind of another. Just as there is no way to force them to know yours. You can only try your best and have faith that what is right will come to pass.”
In her mind, his appearance was cool and scholarly like the painting in her brother’s study; the one picturing the four of them together, but her memory of his voice was patient and warm, like the sound of sunlight.
A pensive daze compelled her to drift from her chambers to stand before the rendering of her family.
Her father stood proud and tall behind her mother’s chair. An accomplished negotiator and mediator, soft-spoken but firm in his convictions, he had been well-respected in government for his fairness. She had often been told as a girl that she favoured his temperament. Ayato favoured their mother’s stubbornness and sharp tongue when he was young, said the old servants: ladies-in-waiting and nursemaids who had come from their mother’s house when she had married their father, people who were now retired. Such a temper when he didn’t get his way, they would chuckle, such strong determination in one so small. She found such things hard to picture now, given how fast he held his decorum.
The old story went that when she was a girl, their mother’s silver tongue had gotten her into more than her fair share of trouble and that the young Lord Kamisato had been fervently advised against the match. Unfortunately, the young lord had been too smitten to care, and had married his love nonetheless.
The painted man rested one hand on his wife’s shoulder, the other on the head of a boy, not even the height of his elbow. Between her elegant sleeves, the lady cradled a bundle of cloth, barely recognisable as the tiny person it was. The only detail, rendered artfully in bold black brushstrokes, was a talisman laced around the bundle’s middle. She could not make out the characters marked on its surface. A good-luck charm, maybe.
She remembered her father remarking how bored they all seemed – the painted people – how stiff. But beholding them now, Ayaka didn’t think so.
Though the lines were brief and simple, she thought maybe the artist had seen through them after all.
The angle of her father’s eye seemed to hold a subtle twinkle of amusement and beneath the boy’s ridiculously serious expression, she thought she caught a glimpse of an equally serious effort not to fidget. The dimple in her mother’s cheek, the delicate curve of her brow as she looked not at the viewer, but over her children with fondness. As if she had eyes for only them.
“How can I help him?” She whispered into the night.
Ayaka was not sure for how long she had been scrutinising the painting, listening to the quiet sounds of rushing waves to the east, the susurrous grasses on Mount Yougou, and beyond, when the muffled shuck of a door sliding open cut through her solace. A slim panel of light crept into the room, sending a chill along her nerves.
“Milady? It’s late, are you alright?”
At the sight of who had entered, her goosebumps immediately settled. She breathed a faint sigh of relief through a smile.
“Ah, Thoma. Yes, I’m alright. Just startled, that’s all.”
“Sorry,” he gave a low laugh, careful not to disturb any souls already asleep, then tilted his head in a gentle question. “Can’t sleep? Can I make you anything to eat or drink?”
After some encouragement, Ayaka gave in to the idea of tea.
“Mora for your thoughts, milady?” Asked Thoma, over a cup.
Ayaka raised her head from staring into the rich, steamy darkness of hers, resting her cheek on a palm, too tired for propriety.
“It feels as if there are too many to list without the tea going cold in the process.”
“I can always boil another pot to keep us going?”
She chuckled, drowsily.
“I’m serious milady, I’m glad to see you back in Inazuma. However long you need to talk, I’m all ears.”
“Ah, you are too good to us, Thoma.”
“I’m only doing my duty, no need to give me so much credit.”
She stirred her tea dejectedly, “I wish you would not continue to think you owed us such a great debt of gratitude.”
Thoma paused, consideringly, then spoke with a deliberate tone. “I do what I do out of gratitude, yes, in part. The Kamisato estate gave me shelter when I was a lost, friendless child, a thousand miles from home. I can’t forget that easily. But also, because I care about the wellbeing of you, your brother, the estate, the Yashiro commission, all of it. It’s the life I’ve known for all these years, so I don’t want to give it up.”
Ayaka looked at her childhood friend, a little dumbfounded. Of course, if anyone had asked her, she would have answered that Thoma was fiercely loyal and caring towards her family without a thought. But to hear it laid out so plainly.
“And honestly,” he continued, “it’s been so long that I wouldn’t trust anyone else to do a good job of looking after this place except myself.”
“And we could never replace you,” she smiled, “but if you would ever ask for anything in return for your selfless service maybe my conscience would be a little clearer. Fewer work hours, more pay, anything; I know my brother would arrange it in a heartbeat.”
“Hey, I ask for things now.”
She eyed him suspiciously.
“Sometimes.” He acquiesced, guiltily, “In fact, I’ll have you know I asked for an extended vacation this year.”
Ayaka raised her eyebrows. “Colour me genuinely impressed.”
Thoma chuckled a bit more heartily, “Hey now, I don’t need two sly wits around the house, I get enough of that already.”
“Where will you go, on your extended vacation?” She chatted.
“Hold on, wasn’t this conversation supposed to be about you?”
“Ah,” she sighed, “Don’t worry about that now, I was simply indulging in some nostalgia.”
His face twinged briefly with sympathy. “I noticed. That painting. Milord doesn’t like it.”
She let out an undignified snort at that, “Well, I imagine he wouldn’t. He looks funny, doesn’t he? I quite like it. I was too young to remember him that small.”
He too released a light exhale, framed by a fond smile. The kind which gave the impression of being something private, given for one person and one person only.
In the ensuing peaceful silence, she allowed her mind to wander, allowed a crease to form between her brows.
Could he really not know?
Ayaka wanted to ask the question. Wanted to touch the topic of her brother’s approaching engagement, to gauge how he would react. Then she looked at the boy who had just made her tea in the middle of the night because he thought she might be upset. And could not bring herself to.
Instead, she put it safely away: a question for another day. After all, though she vehemently disagreed with his execution, technically, Ayato was right. Nothing was settled. He was not getting married tomorrow, archons help him.
“So, tell me, where are you off to see?” She asked, in lieu. “Since I am officially a traveller now, I may be able to give you some recommendations. Who knows? Maybe we will even bump into each other.”
“Mondstadt.” He said with certainty, visibly bursting with pride. Then his voice took on that wistful, dreaming quality that it always did when he spoke of his birthplace. “I can’t believe I never once made the time to visit before now. Being able to walk through the streets as I did all those years ago, see windwheel asters growing in my backyard, eat at Goodhunter again. All the people to meet again or meet for the first time. I’m sure a lot has changed. I’m excited. Mostly nervous but, excited too. And… I’m sure you don’t need to hear all this. Sorry milady, I’m rambling.”
“No, it’s- fine,” she replied distractedly.
“Milady? Have I kept you up long enough? Feel free to retire if you need to.”
“Yes,” then more earnestly, “Thank you, Thoma. I will.”
Although somewhat puzzled by her suddenly impassioned thanks, Thoma attributed this to her earlier strange despondency and soon shrugged it off, deciding to go to bed as well.
But for Ayaka, the pieces were finally slotting into place.
***
She woke the next morning sprawled on top of her covers, mouth dry and with hair sticking to her cheek. Apparently, there had been no time to do much of anything before her head hit the pillow and she was promptly and unceremoniously knocked out. Now though, with the sun cresting the horizon, her mind cleared, and she remembered she had a job to do. An important one.
Lady Kamisato threw herself out of bed, washed and dressed in record time. Peeling off her travel-worn dress, she took the path to the most familiar part of her closet and selected a faded cotton jinbei and underlayer, pulling them on like a second skin. Toothpaste still in her mouth, she hurriedly dragged a comb through her hair, attempting to wrangle it into some sense of order before sweeping it into a knot at the back of her head and setting one foot in front of the other with purpose.
Things were going to be right again, she could feel it. Her father’s words tugged at her memory. “There is no way to force others to know your mind. You can only have faith.”
Now she had faith. And something more important – leverage. It was true that one could not force another to share the same opinion, but the difference here was that the party’s opinion which she wished to change was not fully informed. A good negotiator needed to be aware of this crucial distinction.
“A decision cannot be considered final until one is certain that all the facts are laid out in the open. But.” He hesitated.
“But what, papa?”
The girl stood by her father’s writing desk, gawking at the heroic height of the pile of documents before him. He looked on her with tired eyes, the young face before him glowing with curiosity.
“But there are certain things which you will come to understand one day, hime. Such as that life is rarely so easy as simply knowing things. People will sometimes know that the correct answer is right in front of them and still will not be able to bring themselves to take it.”
“But why?”
“Because their hearts tell them that it is wrong.”
“Why?”
He chuckled, “If we knew the answer to that, hime, then I would be out of a job.”
Yes, there was no guarantee that she would succeed, that she would see clearly into her brother’s heart and be able to connect the right strings.
She chewed on her lip in anticipation.
But there was a chance. And a chance was all she needed.
She caught him in his office, completely unawares. Beating around the bush would not do, she had decided.
“Brother, I love you, but you are an idiot.”
Ayato looked up from his papers unhurriedly, expression only giving the slightest indication of being miffed.
“Good morning to you, too. I trust you slept well?”
“Very well,” she sat down, “So well in fact that I am feeling generous enough to impart upon you some wisdom.”
“Oh?” He raised an eyebrow, playing along, a smile curving at his mouth unwilling to be suppressed. “And what might that be?”
No going back now. She had to say it and be done with the thing so they could all go back to being functioning adults again. No more of this dramatic pretence.
“You have rushed into this arranged marriage with Miss Tanabe, a girl you have no affection for, because you believed that you would be left alone if you didn’t, correct?”
Her brother offered her only a long-suffering blink in reply. She went on, unperturbed.
“You were under the impression that I would be so enamoured with my travels that I would one day decide not to return. And then Thoma requested his vacation to Mondstadt, and you likewise assumed that he would realise it was where he belonged and never come back?”
He did not answer, looking upon her with practised, cool indifference, but something in the twitch of his hand as he set down a page told her that she was getting through, that she was right to press on.
“Well, you are wrong in both respects.”
Something in the hardness of his stare softened by a hair.
“No matter how long I spend away, Inazuma will always be my home. You should never doubt that, though I must admit I feel some culpability. I should have written more often than I did. It was neglectful of me and I am sorry for it. As for Thoma, I will not attempt to speak for what he has not told me, I will only say what I have heard from his own mouth. He cares about you a great deal.”
That certainly seemed to do something. If she was not mistaken a hint of uneasiness had appeared in her brother’s eye.
“He, like me, has never once considered abandoning the Kamisato estate, or this family. It is unthinkable.”
Now show some vulnerability of your own. Trust is all about give and take.
“We have been together for a long time. Always relying on each other has made us stronger, but I believe our three souls are so stuck to each other now that we no longer feel safe being apart. For the first months I was in Fontaine, my fearfulness – for myself, for you – threatened to swallow me whole. If Lumine had not been there for me, I swear I might have run all the way home.”
Ayaka took a deep breath to steady herself. Once she had begun, the words ran like a flood, washing her out and leaving her light-headed.
“But I have learned, more than ever recently, that life is not eternity. We cannot stay the same forever, no matter how much we might want to. So, yes, Thoma and I will not always be there in person. The three of us will go on to have new experiences: sometimes together and sometimes not, and that does not make them any less valuable. If anything, time apart will make us better, and when we meet again it will be all the sweeter.”
“Just because a person is not with you, does not mean they disappear. Nor does it mean you disappear from their lives. It does not mean they will never come back.”
She reached forward to take his gloved hand.
“It does not mean eternity.”