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“The Shogun you are familiar with is a puppet—an automaton I created to manifest Eternity in my absence,” Ei explained.
And, like the precipice of a crumbling cliff face, Sara’s entire world collapsed beneath her feet.
“I need to see Her Excellency.”
The Okuzumeshuu on duty shift restlessly—no doubt the memory of her storming of Tenshukaku is still fresh in mind. It has been little more than a few weeks, however, and as such the fact that she is in no state to swing a sword—let alone draw her bow—must be plainly evident.
“General Kujou,” one says. “Apologies, but the Shogun is not receiving guests. I’m afraid—”
“Well well, look what little bird has fluttered back to the shrine,” Yae said, masking a chuckle beneath her hand. “Though, you hardly seem in any shape to walk, General, let alone fly.”
“Lady Guuji,” Sara panted, attempting to catch her breath as she spoke. The climb to Mt. Yougou’s summit had indeed drained her—the ache of barely-healed wounds rang out across her entire body. “I need to borrow your Pass Permit.”
“‘Need?’” Yae said. “Why, General, this demanding side of yours is almost out of character—” she froze mid-sentence, her signature smirk slipping away. Suddenly, a hand was on Sara’s shoulder, directing her to a quiet corner of the shrine.
“Lady Guuji, please—” her voice broke mid-sentence, a futile attempt to bite back the desperation bleeding through her words.
“Sara, dear, you’ve been crying,” Yae murmured. Her eyes softened imperceptibly. “Ei told you, didn’t she?”
Sara blinked repeatedly, gaze boring into the ground at her feet.
“‘Such wholehearted devotion, rendered meaningless by circumstance,’” Sara echoed. “Those were the words you spoke to me, but I can’t— I refuse to believe—” she coughed, a choked sound she couldn’t quite swallow slipping through her lips unbidden
For once, there was not so much as the faintest whisper of teasing lilt to Yae’s voice.
“Are you certain this is what you want?”
“I have a Pass Permit,” Sara interrupts before the man can continue. As she retrieves the permit and holds it out to the guards, she realizes her hand is shaking. Her heart thunders an uneven rhythm against the confines of her chest. “Let me see the Shogun.”
The Okuzumeshuu glance between themselves before the first shakes his head. “If that is Her Excellency’s will.”
As the great doors of Tenshukaku slam shut behind her, the golden reflection of an evening sunset is swallowed by the shadow.
“Yes, that’s correct,” Ei said, continuing in an almost-casual tone. “My puppet was built to embody a singular focus on Eternity. As Inazuma stands today, those old directives now prove problematic—so I have disabled many of its functions.”
“…It?” Sara repeated, her voice barely a whisper in the wind.
Ei nodded. “The Shogun is but a facet of my existence—an echo of myself, four hundred years past. My being, however, is housed within the Musou Ishinn. It would be no small inconvenience, but…” Ei’s brow furrowed in consternation. “If her rules prove to be incapable of modification, it may be easier to simply get a replacement.”
Sara didn’t know what to say to that. If she opened her mouth, she did not know what would come out.
So she said nothing at all. She sat in silence, taking in each and every word Ei spoke concerning ‘it’.
The clack of her geta thunders down a silent hall. As Sara walks, she counts: In, two, three, four, five. Out, two, three, four, five.
Her attempts to steady her breathing have yielded only marginal results by the time she finds herself standing before the throne room doors.
“I do hope you are healing well,” Ei said, offering a polite smile. The sheer expression of such a simple act appeared alien upon a face she’d once thought to be familiar. “I will remain in the Plane of Euthymia for a time, while I consider what shape Eternity is to take.”
“This is but the first step,” the Shogun had intoned as Sara offered the first Vision unto her palm. “The first step towards an unchanging Eternity.”
She’d believed her. She’d believed her with all her heart.
As far as Sara can tell, not a soul has set foot within Tenshukaku’s innermost hall since the duel before the throne. Scorch marks still blacken the tatami, and elsewhere the usually-spotless mats bear the scars of weeks without maintenance. It is as though someone has been pacing across them for hours upon hours, wearing down their surface piece by piece.
The Raiden Shogun kneels atop her throne, unmoving.
“Why?”
Ei, mid-way through explaining the duties she would now fulfill personally in the weeks to come, fell silent. “Hm? Did you have something to say, General?”
“Why did she go through with it?” Sara breathed, the words spilling free from her mouth before she could take so much as a moment to consider them. It was the only way such blasphemy could ever possibly slip free from her tongue. Somehow, she brought herself to meet Ei’s gaze. “Why did the—”
(the puppet)
“—the Shogun enact the Vision Hunt Decree?”
Ei’s mouth drew into a thin line. “Though it began as a Fatui plot to manipulate the Shogun, at the time I believed it posed no threat to Eternity. In fact, I believed that the people’s ambitions were nothing more than a source of suffering. The Traveler and Miko convinced me of the error in that line of thinking.”
“I— no,” Sara corrected herself. “All of Inazuma was led to believe that the Vision Hunt Decree was the will of the Shogun.” Her divine will. To manifest Eternity.
“Ah,” Ei said. “In hindsight, I do understand the shortcomings of my plan. I… have come to understand the harm it has inflicted upon Inazuma, as well. The Shogun is capable of pursuing Eternity in a matter she sees fit, but in the end, those decisions are still informed solely by the rules I designed. Depending on your perspective, it may be more accurate to state that the Shogun has no will of her own at all.”
“Your Excellency.”
The Shogun’s vacant gaze stirs at her voice, eyes of steely, dulled violet meeting her own. Despite everything, Sara can’t help but take a sharp, shallow breath at the sight.
“General Kujou,” the Shogun intones. “I did not summon you.”
“I— I understand, Your Excellency,” Sara stammers. She needs to breathe—she can’t lose her composure this quickly. “I wished to see you.”
Save the spark that has returned to the Shogun’s gaze, and the slight parting of her lips, her body remains perfectly and utterly still. “You should leave.”
Sara’s fists clench, nails scratching against the surface of her gloves.
Don’t you want to see me?
Did you miss me? Did my presence mean something to you? Anything. Anything at all.
I missed you.
Sara’s hand flies to her mouth. She didn’t mean to speak that final thought aloud.
As Ei had gradually carried more and more of the conversation, even her expression grew somewhat uncomfortable. Something deep within Sara hated just how obvious it was—and guilt flooded that same part of her just as quickly.
“General,” Ei began. “Forgive me for saying so, but… you do not strike me as someone who would be interested in the technological intricacies of puppetry.” Her head tilted ever so slightly to the side. “Am I incorrect in that assumption?”
“N-no, Your Excellency.” Her own voice sounded somehow strange aloud.
“Then, why have you asked so many questions concerning the Shogun?”
“Did she come to see me?” Sara blurted. The question surprised both her and Ei. “While I was asleep. Did she— did she want to see me?”
Ei’s expression dipped into the smallest of frowns. “She was incapable of it. She was confined to Tenshukaku, as she is now.” Ei seemed to think for a moment. “I do not believe she has ever mentioned your name to me.” There was a ringing sound thundering in her ears. “The Shogun is single-minded, Sara. What may seem obvious to you or I might not occur to it.”
“Could you stop—” Sara spat, the venom in her tone gushing forth from somewhere she had not realized she’d possessed, “—calling her that?”
Several still moments passed. Sara’s breathing had long since ceased to come through evenly—it was harsh, and shallow, and something seemed to be welling up inside her (behind her eyes. She was beginning to cry.)
Finally, Ei’s eyes widened almost comically. As though she’d only just pieced something together.
“Oh,” she said. “You love her, don’t you?”
The Raiden Shogun did not smile—not really—but her mouth settled into an even line, and her violet eyes softened in such a way that Sara felt as though her very heart had been sent ablaze.
“General,” the Shogun had said, her tone ever so slightly different—imperceptible to the point that Sara was sure only she could possibly tell the difference. “Are you well?” Sara had groaned in response, and felt incredibly embarrassed over the exchange the next time she’d met with the Shogun. “That witch shall be watched for the remainder of her time in Inazuma,” the Shogun muttered. “Rest now. Regain your strength.”
She sheathed her blade, muscles burning as she steadied herself against the wall. In a single elegant motion, the Shogun twirled her polearm through the air, and it vanished into dust. “You did well, General,” she said.
“…What?” Sara breathed, in a very small voice.
The expression Ei wore—the emotion written plainly across her face, was equal parts sympathetic, and…
She tried to ignore the part of her that said ‘pitying’.
“Miko told me I should tell you the truth,” Ei murmured, “but I did not think…”
“Your Excellency, please,” Sara gasped, “I don’t— allow me to explain—”
“I am so very sorry, Sara.”
And in those words was the answer to every question Sara was too afraid to ask.
“She’s not a person, Sara.”
“She’s nothing more than a hollow shell, Sara.”
“She can’t love you back, Sara.”
Ei averted her gaze, and Sara sent a silent prayer of thanks to the true Electro Archon. She couldn’t look at her either.
“Sara—”
“I—” Sara shot to her feet, arms wrapped tightly around herself in lieu of her wings. “I need to go.”
“If there’s anything I can—” Ei bit her lip, seeming to think better of her words. “Okay,” she said. “You’re free to leave.”
“Th-thank you, Your Excellency,” Sara said, managing a shaky bow. “I, um— thank you.”
“Of course,” Ei murmured.
Sara fled the throne room without another word.
When she reached her room in the estate, perched within her bed, wings curled like a protective blanket, Sara finally allowed herself to fall apart.
“I missed you.”
The Shogun’s gaze doesn’t waver. She doesn’t respond, either.
Sara takes another step forward—another, then another, until she is nearly before the dais itself.
“I have requested to be left undisturbed,” the Shogun states in her usual steady tone. It sounds somehow empty, now.
“No,” Sara blurts before she can stop herself. “Ei left you here.”
The Shogun’s face is as a blank slate. “You have spoken with the one within. I was not aware.” Her eyes are not on Sara—she looks past her, staring at the far wall of the chamber.
“I—” Every word that has raced through her mind these past few days abandons her. She doesn’t know what to say. “It’s not true, is it?”
“To the point, General,” the Shogun orders.
Sara can feel herself stand a little straighter on instinct. “She called you a— a puppet, Your Excellency.”
Ever so subtly, the Shogun frowns. “In my current state I am unable to converse effectively,” she says. “You should leave, General.”
“Just—” Sara seizes a shaky gasp. “Just tell me. Please, Your Excellency.”
She does not look her way. “That is correct.”
Silence reigns in the hall of the Narukami Ogosho. Again, Sara reminds herself to breathe.
“Is that it?”
One of the Shogun’s fingers taps against her thigh. Sara can’t even make out the rise and fall of her chest. “Was there something else you required, General?”
Each lifeless word feels like an arrow piercing her back.
“I—” She doesn’t know what to say. “I fought for you. I stripped away the ambitions of the people, for you. I— I killed for you, Your Excellency—”
The Shogun nods. “For Eternity.”
“What Eternity?” Sara very nearly shouts. “The commissions and the Fatui manipulated you. It—” (don’t cry) “It was all for nothing!”
“I have acted in accordance with my rules,” the Shogun says. “Just as you have, General.”
It would be easier if she sounded angry, Sara thinks. It would be easier if she sounded like this meant anything at all to her.
“But,” Sara murmurs weakly, “you’re the Shogun…”
“Yes,” the Shogun says. “However, I am also an assistant to the one within. Nothing more.”
“I— I don’t believe that!” Sara cries (don’t cry, don’t show weakness.) “You saved me, didn’t you?” She realizes she’s standing on the dais now. The Shogun still sits a head above hers, staring past unwaveringly. Sara grabs the Vision at her belt like a lifeline. “Your Excellency, you— you’re the reason I’m alive.”
You chose me. Didn’t you?
“Ah,” the Shogun exhales. It’s the first time she’s breathed at all. “You are operating under a misconception, General. Archons do not bestow Visions personally.”
Sara freezes. The Shogun is mere inches away, but still she does not look her way.
“…What?”
“Your ambitions saved you, Sara,” the Shogun says. “You saved yourself.”
Sara collapses to her knees at her feet.
(It was nothing but another lie.)
Her fingers desperately (pathetically) seizing at the ends of the Shogun’s kimono.
(A falsehood that merely proved convenient to the grand cause of ‘Eternity’.)
Sara can no longer hold back her tears.
(The war is over. Her purpose has been fulfilled.)
“General,” the Shogun says. Her voice is so close now. A murmur so soft Sara can barely hear it over her own choked sobs. “Please, leave.”
Sara cries harder. She cries as though she has never allowed herself to cry before.
(She hasn’t. Not once, for the past year—she hasn’t shed a tear.)
(This display is so very weak of her.)
“Your Excellency,” Sara gasps. Already, she struggles to apologize for her behavior. “I— I’m sorry, please forgive me—”
One of Sara’s hands grips the Shogun’s wrist—the other, her thigh. Beneath her touch, it feels as though every single muscle in the Shogun’s body is clenching in on itself.
“Trespassers are to be eliminated,” the Shogun intones in a whisper. Her brow furrows. “Use of force has been forbidden.”
Of course, Sara thinks, the words roaring through her mind. Of course that’s all she has to say.
It’s not her fault. She’s just a puppet.
Suddenly, the Shogun’s hand is around her wrist in a death grip, nails digging into her skin.
Ah. Had Sara said that aloud, too?
Surely by now, her sins are worthy of execution.
“If you are going to kill me, Your Excellency,” Sara chokes, and suddenly she finds herself attempting to stand. One hand remains locked in place, but the other reaches desperately for the Shogun’s cheek.
Her face is blank. Flawless and perfect.
“Please,” Sara begs in a whisper. “Please, just look at me.”
Her hand achieves nothing more than slipping weakly down her shoulder.
She had once told herself she would return, in the end. Without hesitation and with no regrets.
But the Vision had never been the Shogun’s gift at all.
Sara doesn’t want to die. But, at least it will be her.
A life she isn’t owed, but perhaps it will be atonement enough—
Cold arms close methodically around her back, lifting her into the air. She is not harsh, nor particularly gentle, but every single muscle in the Shogun’s facsimile body is firing.
She is in the Shogun’s lap, and for lack of anywhere else to go her arms wrap around her, as well.
The Shogun is not shaking. She remains perfectly and utterly still. But she holds Sara close to her chest, and she does not let go.
Dimly, Sara notes that her wings have sprung forth from her back unbidden. Ever so slightly, the Shogun adjusts her embrace to accommodate.
Sara sobs into her arms, until she can cry no more.
“I’m sorry,” she thinks the Shogun says, but it must be nothing more than a fleeting figment of her imagination.
When Sara wakes, she does not open her eyes.
She is wrapped in bedsheets soft yet unfamiliar. Beneath her is not a mattress, but tatami mat. She’s lying on her side. She doesn’t remember falling asleep. Her throat burns and her eyes ache.
There is an arm wrapped around her.
Sara’s eyes shoot open. The deep violet gaze of the Shogun stares back at her.
Sara shoves herself into a sitting position in an instant, ignoring the ache in her shoulders. The Shogun’s arm instantly retreats, but she sits up to join her. Knuckles brush against the back of her hand, and before she can so much as flinch the Shogun intertwines her hand with hers, squeezing tight.
“Your Excellency,” Sara grimaces.
The Shogun’s eyes widen a fraction. “Oh,” she says. Her grip eases, though her hand remains.
Sara blinks and rubs her eyes with her free hand, taking in her surroundings. She is on a tatami mat, wrapped in silken sheets. In bed with the Shogun.
On the floor of the Tenshukaku throne room.
“…What?” Sara croaks.
“I cannot leave this chamber,” the Shogun explains. “When you exhausted yourself and fell unconscious, I requisitioned the one within to procure appropriate sleeping arrangements.”
Sara is either dreaming, or she is in shock. She cannot yet tell which it is.
“I—” She doesn’t know where to start. “I’m not dead?”
“Use of force has been forbidden,” the Shogun echoes.
“But I—” Sara forces herself to take a breath. “What I did to you was—”
“You were distressed,” the Shogun states. “I have witnessed such symptoms in many soldiers in the past. Have you not as well?”
Sara closes her mouth.
“Did—” Sara still doesn’t know what she should be saying. “Were you here all night?” she asks.
“I cannot sleep,” the Shogun says, which does not answer her question. But she’d been in bed with her, arm wrapped around her torso. Her legs are still tucked beneath the sheets.
Sara glances down. There are two pillows.
“The majority of my administrative functions have been disabled,” the Shogun says. “There is much I am currently incapable of. I—” the word seems alien on her tongue, both to Sara and, by the flicker of expression on her face, the Shogun as well. “I apologize.”
Sara finds herself closing the distance between them—inching to the side until her arm is intertwined with the Shogun’s.
She's not cold, Sara realizes. Pressed against her, the Shogun's skin feels as warm as any mortal's.
The Shogun does not react. But she does not retract her hand, either.
“I… I think I understand, Your Excellency.” Sara is still trying to wrap her head around Ei’s words, let alone the Shogun’s—which by her indication, are attempting to convey meaning she is incapable of stating directly. “We’re… very similar, aren’t we?”
The Shogun offers no indication of her agreement. But she does not deny the notion, either.
“You said before,” the Shogun murmurs, “that you did not believe I am but a puppet.” She seems to search for confirmation in Sara’s expression, and Sara nods affirmatively. A spark of light flashes in the Shogun’s eyes, and she continues. “Likewise, you are not merely a servant of Eternity. I do not see you that way.”
Sara’s heart thunders in her chest, for an entirely different reason than that which has driven it the past several days.
“I do not understand this sensation,” the Shogun says. “It is not conducive to Eternity. But,”
From the moment she opened her eyes, the Shogun’s gaze has not left hers.
“I would like to choose you now, General.”
“Raiden, I—” the irreverent form of address slips out before Sara realizes what she’s said. “Er, Your Excellency—”
“I would like for you to call me that,” the Shogun interrupts hastily. She squeezes her hand once more, pulling her closer still, until Sara is all-but falling against her. “When we are in private,” she clarifies.
Sara blinks dumbly.
“Raiden,” she breathes. She normally would have woken up by now.
The Shogun does not smile. But, ever so softly, Raiden smiles back at her.
“Sara.”
