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Ayaka was a daughter of the Kamisato Clan, which in turn made her a child of the Yashiro Commission. She’d been bred and born for a life of servitude, her blood and bones promised to the Shogun and the whole of Inazuma. Had she been born slightly different, had Ayaka been a person slightly to the left of who she was, maybe the thought of that would have been a burden. As it currently stood: it was an honor. Truly. To serve her nation, to help the people, to further the pursuit of eternity.

Ayaka first met the Traveler from behind a screen. Thoma brought her in like a stray, as he was wont to do. She listened to her speak through the screen, then gave the request to help three friends. Lumine accepted with little hesitation, which Ayaka would come to expect later. Lumine the Traveler—whom the wind carried over from across the sea, had climbed mountains, had drunk from rivers and crawled into every corner of Teyvat—was not here.

“I’ll do it,” Lumine had said.

Ayaka thought she could see the gold of her hair shining through the screen, like the sunlight from Mondstat and Liyue had been trapped inside. But for Ayaka—her hair silvered as it was—the world she knew stopped at the shores of Inazuma.

She would never think of Inazuma as a cage—she loved her country too much for it. But it wasn’t a stretch to say that, perhaps, there was a thin leash tying her there, fine enough that if you pressed too hard, it could make you bleed.

Lumine completed the tests set out for her with the swiftness and competency of a seasoned adventurer. She entered the teahouse again as a set of unfamiliar footsteps alongside Thoma’s familiar ones. Ayaka sucked in a breath and stepped beyond the screen, fan still obscuring her face to prolong their face-to-face meeting. But shields must come down,  and when she lowered hers, something softer and more devastating fell into place.

This was how Ayaka first saw the Traveler’s face: eyes wide and golden like two twin stars, mouth open and round as she stared at Ayaka like she couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing.

(Which was absurd, honestly. There was nothing particularly magnificent about rocks part of the shoreline. But perhaps to travelers who’d seen and had opportunity to see everything, even the small things were full of wonder.)

Something kindled in her chest, warm enough to mimic embarrassment. But she was Kamisato Ayaka and had a clan image to uphold. So what else could she do but smile back?

“I’ve been meaning to acquire a new outfit for you, too.” She told the Traveler. “It’s just…I wasn’t sure how you’d feel about the idea of dressing in Inazuman attire…”

Lumine smiled at her, something small and gentle to ease a denial. “It’s a kind thought, But I’m fine with my current outfit.”

“Oh? Are you sure?”

Lumine nodded. “These clothes are special to me.”

“Is that so…” Ayaka thought about it. She'd never given much thought to dress, but perhaps travelers couldn’t adventure well in certain attire.

“Impressive…So, travelers of your stature hold themselves to a dress code, as well as a code of conduct.”

Paimon looked at Lumine and then back at Ayaka. “Hmm…More like, when you’re away from home, you’ve gotta live by certain rules to survive, whether you like it or not.”

That gave her pause. Ayaka had never left Inazuma, she didn’t know what it was like to not be part of the scenery. Inazuman girl in Inazuman clothes with Inazuman mannerisms—she’d never had to fight to keep a sense of herself against a tide of change.

Lumine, though—she didn’t look of this world. Her eyes were too golden and wide, full of curiosity for a world unfamiliar to her, muscled like a person that only knew how to trek paths on her own feet, and the quiet loneliness she kept to herself, the one that sprouted from age and time and distance. Of course, someone known as the “Traveler” implied someone had not traveled from here. She was a star that had dropped from the sky and Teyvat had the fortune of catching her.

Ayaka turned to find Lumine watching her.

“But Paimon would still love to check out some Inazuman outfits!” Paimon cried.

Lumine looked away, the moment breaking. A grin lifted the corner of her mouth. “Do they do Paimon sizes here?”

“Just what is that supposed to mean?” Paimon yelled, indignant. “They make them in whatever size the customer asks for!”

And Ayaka watched them, a laugh bubbling up in her chest. Perhaps the Traveler had been alone for a long time, but watching her talk to Paimon with that mischievous tilt to her eyes, that smile on her face, she hoped that—despite the distance, despite the world—maybe Lumine had found a home here, too.

(Ayaka had a terrible secret: that she wished to be ordinary.

If she let herself think about it for too long, something inside her would start to fracture. But life was nothing but a balancing act, and normally, she could hold two conflicting ideas in her heart: that she loved Inazuma, that she loved being part of the Kamisato clan and helping people; and that she wanted to pull her roots up and see where the storms would spread her seeds.)

Only sometimes, though. Under the weight of the Kamisato name, who wouldn’t want to set it down for a moment to rest by the riverside?)

To Ayaka’s joy and dismay, Lumine left Inazuma shortly after the abolishment of the Vision Hunt Decree. She left for Sumeru so quickly the way dandelion seeds scattered after a gust of wind. Lumine was something like that: brief and intangible like a puff of smoke, gone before Ayaka could get a grasp on her; but a traveler who stopped traveling would lose their title, Ayaka supposed, so she couldn’t be too disappointed by the fact.

But then Lumine returned. It never occurred to her that the Traveler would go back to places she’d traveled to before. She found her one day in the walls of the Kamisato Estate talking to Madarame Hyakubei and the sight of it felt so out of place, like a moment lifted from time and dropped in front of her, that Ayaka stopped in her tracks. 

Paimon spotted her first. She spun around in the air in her spot next to the Traveler’s head and her eyes widened. “Ayaka!” She waved. “It’s good to see you!”

Lumine paused and Ayaka held her breath. Then, her face broke into a grin. “Ayaka!”

Her name sounded so warm in Lumine’s voice, like crawling onto the sill of a sunlit window. Ayaka rushed to compose herself before starting forward.

Lumine beat her to it, rushing forward like a gust of wind. She almost thought—well, that Lumine would charge straight into her and wrap her arms around Ayaka, throwing a tidal wave of hair and sweat and sky into her face; but she skidded to a stop inches before they collided, eyes widening like she remembered who Ayaka was. She almost wished Lumine had less self control.

“It’s—” The sun beat down on her face. Her cheeks warmed. “It’s wonderful to see you again, Traveler.”

“It’s great to see you again as well, Ayaka.”

Her name again. On Lumine’s tongue. Dripping off the curve of her smile. 

“You should have told me you were coming,” said Ayaka. “I would have prepared a grander welcome.”

“Oh, there’s no need for that.” Lumine’s eyes crinkled at the corners. “I’ll only be here for a few days anyway so I wouldn’t want you to worry about that.”

“Oh.” She tried not to sound so disappointed.

Lumine peered at her with those golden eyes. Then, the corner of her mouth lifted. “Don’t sound too sad about that, I’ll be back again.”

Ayaka flushed. “I wasn’t—” She cleared her throat. “I only mean that I haven’t seen much of you since you helped us abolish the Vision Hunt Decree.”

“My sincerest apologies,” said Lumine. “I’ll have to fix that right away.”

Thank the gods Ayaka had a Cryo Vision because she was sure it was the only thing stopping her from bursting into flames on the spot.

“Since you are here now…” She turned slowly, testing the evenness of her voice. “What do you say to a walk with me around the estate?”

“I would love that.” Lumine smiled, so brilliant and blinding, Ayaka had to look away.

“Paumon would, too!” Paimon interjected.

Ayaka glanced back, focusing on Paimon, before allowing herself a small smile in return. “Wonderful, please come with me, then.”

The walk through the grounds of the estate was short and unexciting, but it was a good excuse to keep Lumine’s attention a little bit longer, satiating that strange craving in her chest that wanted Lumine’s eyes a hair's breadth away—at least briefly.

As promised, Lumine did leave a few days later to continue her adventure across Teyvat while Ayaka remained in Inazuma, as always. But when she returned again, she always sought out Ayaka in her tower atop the mountain.

“You must tell me more of your travels,” said Ayaka one day as they sat at the cliffside overlooking the ocean. “I—I’d love to hear about the other nations and their customs.”

Lumine smiled, her mouth curving like the moon. “What do you want to know?”

“Anything.” Any piece of driftwood was sufficient for a drowning man. “I want to know what it’s like to be untethered from a place, to go where you please, to—” To leave Inazuma. “Ahem. Just—I’ll let the storyteller choose where to begin.”

Lumin told her that the first nation she stumbled upon was Mondstat, the city of freedom.

Foreshadowing, thought Ayaka. If Lumine’s travels were a light novel, it would be a hit at Yae’s Publishing House.

There, she continued the story of meeting her friends, confronting the troubles of Mondstat. The dragon and uncovering the secrets of the Abyss. Ayaka suspected some portions were omitted, but it wasn’t her place to pry, and she’d trust the seasoned adventurer to tell her story.

From there, Lumine and Paimon crossed the vast expanse of the Bishui Plain and spent countless nights sleeping under the stars, fighting monsters, hunting the animals of the wild before finally stumbling onto Wangshu Inn. A brief respite, before they continued their trek again through the dirt roads and haunted villages before Liyue Harbor appeared on the horizon. The stone bricks and the lights, the bustling of the harbor, much larger and much more lively with the music of people than Mondstat. There was the tragic incident with Rex Lapis, and the strange interactions she had with a Fatui Harbinger, and the remnants they’d dug up of the Archon War. 

“You’ve lived quite a life,” said Ayaka, almost breathlessly. “I’m almost—I can’t help but feel a little envious.”

“You’ve lived quite the life, too,” Lumine pointed out. “Being part of the Kamisato clan is no easy feat. And so many people in Inazuma speak of your kindness. No sort of recluse could garner the love of her people like that.”

“Yes, but…” Across the sea, the sun lingered above the horizon. Ships dotted the water again now that the storms had calmed, but the salted breeze remained, the wind whistling near the mountaintops. Ayaka had watched that horizon all her life and had never come close to touching it.

“But…?”

Ayaka started to swallow the restless animal in her chest, then paused. This was Lumine, the Traveler. She’d already discovered Tsubaki’s secret with her, read those journals, accompanied her on a quest that could have been seen as fruitless to others—there was no need for her to hold back.

“I’ve always wondered—” Ayaka sucked in a breath. “I’ve always wondered what the world was like beyond Inazuma. I’ve never been on a ship, never crossed the ocean, never climbed a mountain other than the path it takes to get from the city to the estate, never slept under the stars or sat near a campfire until it went out. I am happy with my life here, truly, I am glad to be in a position to help the people of Inazuma, so I do not wish to sound ungrateful. It’s just—you know, you remember my mother. And the festival. Sometimes, I—I—” She wrung her hands.

“Ayaka.” Lumine’s voice was gentle. “It’s okay, I understand.”

The pressure building inside her released, and Ayaka deflated like a balloon. For once, she let her spine curl forward, her posture sagged and she leaned forward to press her elbows into her thighs.

“Thank you,” said Ayaka. “For understanding. I’m glad to have you as a—a friend.”

The corner of Lumine’s mouth tipped up. “I am, too.” 

They sat there for a long moment, listening to the wind and the sea. Behind them, the lights of the Kamisato Estate started to come on as the staff prepared for the evening. Soon, one of the attendants would come out to bring them back in for dinner. But for now, Ayaka enjoyed sitting there, digging her fingers into the ground and feeling the little pebbles in the soil press against her legs.

“Ayaka,” said Lumine suddenly. “You said you’ve never slept under the stars, right?”

“Yes?” Ayaka looked at her curiously.

“Does that mean you want to?”

“I—” Ayaka flushed. “I mean, yes, I suppose it does. I’ve never camped outside or anything ever, so…”

“What about tonight?”

“Tonight?”

“Yeah!” Lumine was grinning. “Why not? I’m only here a few more days and you said you don’t have any important meetings tomorrow, so—” She paused. “I mean, we don’t have to of course if you don’t want to. I just thought I’d suggest it—”

“Yes!” Ayaka burst. “Yes, I’d love to—er, sleep outside tonight. With you and Paimon. I think that would be—” It was the last thing she’d expected the Traveler to say, but something warm bloomed inside of her at the thought. “Thank you. That was very thoughtful of you to suggest it.” She stood. “I should probably tell someone of your plans.”

“Okay.” The approaching sunset sparkled in Lumine’s eyes. “I’ll pull Paimon away from the kitchen before she eats through the entire estate.”

Ayaka laughed and bounced back to the estate, feeling lighter than air, buoyant like something floating on water.

They set up a camping spot close enough to the Kamisato Estate that they could call for help if they found trouble, but far enough away that they could pretend they really were out camping in the wild. They chose a spot near the cliffs where the sky was open and the sea was far enough below that the ocean spray wouldn’t give them hypothermia while they slept.

“I can’t believe we have access to real beds and we’re choosing to sleep outside!” Paimon groaned.

“We’re doing it for Ayaka,” reminded Lumine. “If you’re really uncomfortable, you can just float back to the estate.”

“And let you leave Paimon alone? No way!”

Ayaka held up a hand to hide her laugh.

Lumine turned and caught her eye, giving her a small grin. Then, she turned back and went back to her camping preparations.

Ayaka stood there for a moment, feeling like a fish floundering in the sand before asking, “What do you usually do when preparing to camp for the night?”

“Start a fire,” said Lumine. “No matter where I go, it always gets fairly cold at night so it’s important not to freeze in your sleep.”

Cold everywhere at night. Ayaka made note of it and added it to her collection of knowledge of the world.

“While I do that, if I don’t have anything with me, I’ll send Paimon to find fruit or other things for us to eat.”

Paimon put her hands on her hips and beamed. “That’s right!”

“Then, I’ll cook and roll out the mats for sleeping and so on.”

“Oh, I see.” Ayaka tried not to fidget. There was so much she was unfamiliar with.

“But we already ate dinner, so we don’t have to worry about any of that.” Lumine leaned forward and blew on the sparks of the burgeoning fire. “Now, we can just sit around the fire and talk about our day.”

“You do this every time?” 

“Yep!” Paimon said cheerfully. “Paimon will go first: the people in the Kamisato Estate are soooo nice. They gave Paimon so much free food and called Paimon an ‘esteemed guest’ and—”

The fire grew as the night went on. Ayaka listened on the side, smiling as Lumine and Paimon bickered into the night. She thought about how she always enjoyed when they visited for the simple fact that Lumine and Paimon were such an entertaining pair, but sitting around the campfire with them made her feel special, peeking into something a little more unfiltered. To think: Ayaka had the fortune of sitting here with them.

As she stared into the fire, Ayaka wondered if the light would attract monsters, but Lumine assured her that even hilichurls laid down to rest at night.

“I never thought about monsters sleeping at night,” said Ayaka.

“They do.” Lumine’s voice was soft. “They’re alive, too.”

They spoke long enough that the fire stabilized and settled to a crackle, mixing with the humming of cicadas around them. Ayaka had heard these sounds before through the thin screens of her windows, but she’d never heard them so raw and unfiltered before.

The natural death of a fire was not one that went out in an instant, but one that trickled down and down until it teetered the line, living in that muggy gray area. Ayaka blinked and the embers had fallen to a low glow, pulsing like a fading heartbeat. Ayaka blinked again and it was dark and she couldn’t tell the exact moment the fire had died. Only that the light was gone, left only with the stars and the moon, and that she and Lumine had moved off the rocks to lay in the grass. 

“Tell me more of your adventures.” Ayaka’s ponytail dug into the back of her head, so all she could do was turn her head to the side to watch Lumine. “Please.”

Lumine smiled, and as always, obliged. “Of course.”

She told Ayaka about an astrologist named Mona, and about the divination of stars. If you go far enough, if you cross enough land fast enough, the constellations in the sky would change.

“They do?” Something like wonder swelled in Ayaka’s chest. And then, despair followed shortly after. She’d never travel far enough, swiftly enough, to see the different constellations. She would be in Inazuma for eternity.

“I could show you one day.”

“Perhaps.” Ayaka looked at Lumine’s shoulder. Then looked up at the sky. “Which ones do you see in Inazuma?”

Lumine raised a hand, pointing them out. The gloves she wore cut strange shapes on her hand, the skin glowing pale against the night. She inched closer until their shoulders were nearly brushing, and she kept looking at Ayaka, like she was making sure she was listening. Lumine didn’t have to check though. Ayaka knew her voice like the northern star. And her compass always pointed true.

Lumine spoke more of oceans and gods and dragons and flowers—all the flowers she’d encountered in Teyvat. The windwheel asters and the glaze lilies and silk flowers, those with gentler origins than Inazuma’ dendrobium, but still as beautiful; the Sumeru roses that were not roses and the padisarahs and viparyas. Lumine told her that flying up to a dragon’s domain ruined your hair differently than sitting at the bow of a ship because the salt of the sea crusted through to keep you there, and that the gods were old—thought she knew this already—but even their ghosts were more ancient and more haunting.

Beyond the bubble of their voices, Paimon slept near the corpse of the fire. She snored softly, and Ayaka finally thought to wonder how late they’d been talking. 

“I suppose we should go to bed,” said Ayaka reluctantly.

“If you want to,” said Lumine.

She sat up and took down her hair, glad to be free of her ponytail poking into the back of her head.

“Oh.”

Ayaka turned to find Lumine watching her.

“What?”

“I’ve never seen your hair down.” Her voice was low, a whisper among the cicadas.

Ayaka looked down, suddenly embarrassed. She shot a glance up. “Is it strange?”

“No, it’s—” Lumine blinked. “You look cute.”

“Oh.” Ayaka sucked in a breath, heart rabbiting in her chest. “Thank you.” She crawled quietly away from the edge of the cliff, near Paimon. “Goodnight, Lumine.”

“Goodnight, Ayaka.”

Ayaka dreamt of this: Lumine at the foot of a mountain. Lumine at the bow of a ship. Lumine wading into a river to pull a plant free. Lumine—perpetually surrounded by the wind and all the forces of nature. Evidenced in the calluses on her hands, the dirt on her knees, the whispers of scars and old injuries silvered across her skin. 

Lumine at the edge of a lake watching Ayaka dancing, her eyes as luminous as the moon as they stayed on Ayaka and did not move.

Lumine, looking at her, telling her she looked cute with her hair down.

Lumine stepping onto the docks of Ritou and the outline of her footsteps running all the way to the Kamisato Estate. 

And Ayaka—always looking over the ocean. Ayaka, standing at the shore, the wind swirling around her while she stood unmoving, unchanging.

The next morning, Lumine had to leave again. They awoke among the dew in the grass when the sun started peering over the horizon. Something strange had settled in Ayaka’s chest overnight that made her stiffer than usual, though Lumine acted as if all were normal. She woke Paimon. They went back to the estate and Ayaka bid her farewell at the gates of the estate, reaching behind herself to pull at the ends of her ponytail. She thought about how she could remember the exact shade of pink on Lumine’s face when she said, You look cute. You look cute. You look cute.

But Lumine was gone again. They had not spoken of it when they awoke. As Lumine disappeared down the mountain, Ayaka thought of the gaze lilies they had spoken of, how they opened at night and closed in the morning.

They were like Ayaka—on the edge of blooming before the moonlight, once again, stole away.

Lumine didn’t visit for a while after that. Ayaka tried not to link that as the cause of her restlessness in the days following. It’d been growing stronger ever since she found out the truth about Tsubaki and her mother, but it had never grabbed hold of her like this: with claws rising in her chest, into her throat, the fetal animal prowling at the edges of her chest, wanting to pull her across the sea and promising that it would drag her by the ankles if it had to.

Ayaka found herself at the training grounds to try and beat out the energy. She ran through drills from her childhood until there was enough sweat to collect in buckets, but even then, she kept going.

“Are you alright, Ayaka?”

Ayaka startled, nearly dropping her sword to see Ayato approaching her from the estate. “Brother, I—I didn’t realize you were there.”

Ayato grabbed a training sword off the rack, one of the wooden ones they had used when they were young. “Need a sparring partner?”

She shook her head. “No, please. I’m alright. Don’t worry about me.”

He approached her anyway and held the sword up. “You seem restless these days.”

“Do I?” Ayaka touched her sword to his so they crossed at the middle. “I hadn’t noticed.”

Ayato smiled. “Ayaka, I know you’re not one to lie.”

Ayaka sighed and lowered her sword, pressing the tip into the dirt.  “Have I spoken to you about the Traveler before?”

“In passing.” 

Of course, he knew about Lumine’s help in the abolishment of the Vision Hunt Decree and everything in Inazuma, and of course word of her travels had now spread across Teyvat like a plague. But Ayato knew the story, not the person—not the way Ayaka knew her.

“I’ve had a lot on my mind,” she said. 

“Hm?” Ayato hummed. “Would one of those things be the Traveler?”

“In a sense.” There was the Traveler, but connected to the Traveler was images of a world beyond the shores of Inazuma, the many different flowers of the other nations of Teyvat, the idea of walking far enough and long enough that the constellations could shift.

But how could she admit that to her brother? What would he think?

Ayato tilted his head. “In a sense?”

She suddenly became aware of the heat on her face, though she could attribute it to her training. “She visits sometimes, but I haven’t seen her around lately.” She twisted her sword, trilling a little divot into the dirt. “She tells me stories about her travels and I just think—well, they’re nice stories.”

“I see.” Ayato’s voice was calm, neutral. “And this is the cause of your restlessness?”

“In a sense.”

A beat of silence stretched between them, wide enough to become a chasm. Finally, Ayato spoke, “My apologies. Well, if you need anything, you can talk to me. I am your brother, after all.”

Ayaka looked at him for the first time and smiled. “Thank you.”

In the days following her chat with Ayato, her restlessness receded, though some of it still lingered. She spent less time on the training grounds but still wandered through the grounds of the estate when she didn’t have other duties to attend to. And still, she heard no word from Lumine.

Eventually, something on Kannazuka pulled her off Narukami Island and gave Ayaka an excuse to do something with her energy. Finally, she thought. A sufficient distraction.

But when she returned home, she almost wished she had never left at all when she found out Ayato had just finished doing something with the Traveler.

“What?” A tidal wave of ice washed over her. “The Traveler was here?”

“Yes, she helped me solve some marriage plot between the Hiiragi and Kujou clans. It was a bit complicated, but—” Ayato waved his hand. “Anyway, she was extremely helpful. I see why you speak of her so highly.”

Ayaka flushed, but pressed on. “Is she still here?”

Ayato gave her an almost sad smile. “You just missed her.”

She unclenched her fists. “I…I see.” She sucked in a breath. “Well, I’m glad you got to meet her, Brother.”

Ayato smiled. “I am as well.”

Ayaka returned to her room, feeling a little defeated and trying to understand why. She lit a few lamps in her room, and when she turned to look at a window, she found a single glaze lily sitting in a small vase on top of her desk, blooming under the moonlight.

“Are you well, my lady?” asked Thoma.

Ayaka startled, jerking her head away from the window and straightening her skirts. “Yes, I’m fine, Thoma. Don’t worry about me.” She hadn’t noticed him coming in.

Thoma took a seat near her desk, hands resting on his thighs. He peered at her. “Are you sure? You’ve seemed distracted lately.”

Ayaka moved away from the window and sat at her desk. “I’m just a bit preoccupied, I suppose.”

“Oh?” Thoma glanced down at the new vase on her desk with a closed, blue flower. The corner of his mouth lifted up. “May I guess what about?”

Her face flamed and she turned away. “You may not.”

Thoma laughed loudly enough that it could echo through the halls of the estate. “I’m sorry, my lady. I didn’t mean to embarrass you. But you know, if you ever need to talk about anything, I’m always here.”

She relaxed an inch. Then smiled. “I know you are. Thank you.”

The next time Lumine visited, she had a wild look in her eyes and a grin splitting her face in half. Ayaka spotted her through the window when she entered the gates. Lumine must have just arrived and raced up the mountain because her hair was windblown and wild.

“Is Ayaka here?” she asked one of the guards.

“Yes, I believe so. You can wait here, I’ll—”

Ayaka rushed outside, stopping just before the entrance to compose herself. “There’s no need for that, Hirotatsu.”

The guard bowed and stepped away.

Lumine turned to Ayaka. The grin broadened.

“Hello,” said Ayaka, a little breathless.

“Ayaka!” Paimon cried. “It’s good to see you.”

“Hello, Paimon.” She kept her eyes on Paimon, afraid of what her face would do if she looked directly at Lumine. “What brings you two here this time?”

“I have to tell you something.” Like a moth drawn to a candle, when Lumine spoke, Ayaka couldn’t help but look at her. “I met up with Ningguang in Liyue and we’ve been talking about Inazuma’s reopening since the end of the Vision Hunt Decree.”

“You mean the Tianquan?” Ayaka blinked. “I shouldn’t be surprised by how many people you know.”

Lumine grinned and it was so blinding, she nearly had to take a step back. “Well, now that Inazuma’s reopening, the other nations would like to reconnect. And Ningguang specifically asked me if I knew anyone who could act as a small ambassador of sorts, since the Shogun doesn’t leave Tenshukaku very often.”

“I see.”

“And I said I did.”

“Oh.” Ayaka paused. “Who?”

Lumine grinned. “You!”

“Me?”

“You!” Paimon cried. “You get to visit somewhere out of Inazuma, Ayaka! Didn’t you say you wanted to do that?”

“I did.” Ayaka blinked.

“You keep talking about how you’d like to see the rest of Teyvat,” said Lumine. “So I thought…”

She suddenly found it hard to breathe. Her tongue was frozen in her mouth.

Lumine continued. “Of course, you don’t have to if you don’t want to. I just thought—”

“No, no, no, please.” Ayaka grabbed her hands. Lumine looked at her surprised, and Ayaka quickly dropped them. “I’d love to go. Thank you so much—for thinking of me.”

Lumine’s eyes were bright. “How could I not?” 

To bring the daughter of the Kamisato Clan to Liyue, a ship was required. The Traveler suggested the Alcor, the same ship she had taken to Inazuma when she first arrived, headed by Captain Beidou. Ayaka’s retainers had been against it at first. A pirate ship taking the daughter of the Kamisato Clan taking a pirate ship to Liyue? How was that diplomatically safe?

(Ayaka loved the idea, though she kept her mouth shut. The idea of being surrounded by pirates was certainly thrilling.)

But Lumine, ever the persuasive, vouched for the people of the Alcor, and argued that its captain and the Tianquan were acquainted, so of course it would be safe for her.

So Ayaka found herself on the ship, pulling away from the shores of Inazuma for the first time in her life. The deck of the Alcor felt more fluid, less solid than land itself. It was the waves, she supposed, the constant shifting ground and the current carrying her forward. To think: she’d always yearned to see outside of Inazuma. And now she was here.

“Ayaka!” Lumine approached her, a grin spreading wide across her face. “How are you doing?” 

“Well enough, I suppose.” She could feel the spray of the ocean on her face. When she licked her lips, she tasted salt.

“Can I pull you away from the deck to show you something?"

“Of course.”

Lumine grabbed her hand and tugged her forward. The warmth of their palms pressed together startled her enough that all she could do was let Lumine drag her away to the stern of the ship.

Lumine pressed close until their shoulders were touching. Her voice was so quiet and near that Ayaka could feel it flutter against her cheek.

“Look.”

The ship turned and there—across the sea, sat Inazuma as just a dot on the horizon. The Sacred Sakura Tree stood at the tip of Mt. Yougou, piercing the sky. The sunset bruised the sky behind it, fading and fading as it went down.

Ayaka let out a breath. This was the kind of thing she wanted to see—what she had dreamed of: sitting at the cliffs and watching the ships sail across the ocean. Someone must be sitting at the shores of Inazuma now, watching the Alcor dip farther and farther into the sea. Normally, it would be her. Today, it was not.

Ayaka turned and opened her mouth to speak, then stopped.

Lumine was watching her, a faint smile tipping the corner of her mouth sideways. Her eyes were brilliant, the gold of her irises turning liquid and molten in the sunset. She was a breath apart, one stumble away and they’d be touching.

“Do you like it?” asked Lumine. “The view?”

“Yes,” said Ayaka. Then, “...do you?”

Lumine smiled wider. “Always.”

(Now here was a startling thought: seeing the shine of the ocean salt on Lumine’s lower lip and wanting to lick it off.)

Lumine didn’t tell her about the sea at night.

Ayaka thought she knew darkness when she wandered into Chinju Forest after sundown, and sure there were lights, but she was away from the torches of the estate and away from human voices. But Lumine appeared in her room after dark and shook her awake.

“Come with me,” she whispered.

Paimon wasn’t nearby. Ayaka guessed that she was asleep, which meant she and the Traveler were truly alone.

Ayaka rose from her cot and followed because how could she ever say no to Lumine?

The trapdoor opened. Ayaka stepped out onto the deck, and she met the wall of darkness of the ocean at night. The water lapped inky black against the hull and the horizon extended in an infinite void—which was to say: boundless. The sea extended for miles and miles and the moon was gone and when Ayaka held out her hand in front of her, she almost couldn’t see it. This darkness was unfathomable. This was a darkness you couldn’t find on Inazuma, on the main island, at the Kamisato Estate. This was a darkness you needed to search for beyond the shores of your island, deep into the wild where there were no torches and no people and nothing but the raw, unmarked world.

“What are we doing here?” asked Ayaka.

“Look up.”

And oh. Oh. Oh! You could not find these stars on land within the clutches of a city. Here under the open dome of the sky, with the sea swallowing everything and the moon hidden away, there was nothing but constellations and pinpricks of light in the dark canvas of the sky. It was a big sky made to fill the whole universe and Ayaka thought that there was no way this was her sky. There was no way this was the sky she’d lived under her whole life—always under her fingertips but never grasped for.

“Lumine,” Ayaka breathed. “I—”

“Isn’t it beautiful?” A grin laced through Lumine’s voice, so warm she could feel it like a torch.

Archons. Ayaka turned to her. Somehow, Lumine’s eyes were still luminescent in the dark. Or maybe it was just Ayaka, who could find her in the dark, who followed her voice like a compass. Something swelled in her chest, so high and full she could drown in it. How close were they in the dark? Could she map it? She grabbed Lumine’s hands. She squeezed them.

“Ayaka?”

Ayaka did not know the burning she was feeling now. Not the way she knew the cold and calm of ice, the ebb and flow of water from her brother. But this was something new and pressing, writhing with its birth: the blood rushing under her skin in waves, her fingertips sparking, every nerve turned into tinder and alight with heat. Ayaka threaded their fingers together. She wanted to tug. She wanted to pull. Until one of them stumbled forward.

“I—”

“There you are!”

Ayaka sprung back, pulling her hands behind her back. She wondered what Lumine’s face looked like in the dark, though she also wasn’t sure if she could handle it. 

“Paimon woke up and you were gone.” Paimon floated through the air, only visible by the little star trail she left. “Did you decide to look at the stars without Paimon? You know Paimon loves the stars.” She huffed.

“Sorry, Paimon.” Lumine’s voice was apologetic. “I was showing Ayaka the sky and forgot to wake you up.”

“Ah, well…” Ayaka could see Paimon scratching her head in the pale light. “Paimon guesses that’s okay, then. Isn’t the sky so cool out here, Ayaka? It’s super dark so you can see everything.”

Ayaka smiled, though she didn’t know if Paimon could see it. “It is, Paimon. Thank you both for bringing me on this ship.”

“Of course! You’re our friend, Ayaka. We want to show you lots of things!”

She could hear Paimon’s grin so brightly in the dark, but she still found herself trying to make out Lumine’s face. She couldn’t find it. 

“Hey, since we’re up, do you want to watch the sunrise with us?” asked Paimon.

“I would love to.”

They first oriented themselves east to watch the sunrise. (“That’s the north star,” said Paimon. “It actually isn’t that bright, but you can tell because there’s another smaller one next to it.”) Then, they pressed into the railing. Ayaka started when something warm pressed into her shoulder.

“Traveler?” Ayaka whispered.

“Yep,” responded Lumine.

Ayaka expected Lumine to move away, but she didn’t, and the warmth of Lumine’s shoulder stayed with her as they stood on the deck until the dawn rose pink over the horizon and the rest of the crew woke.

When they arrived at Liyue, Lumine and Paimon whisked her off to meet the Liyue Qixing. She met the sharp-tongued Keqing and the mild-mannered Ganyu before she met the Tianquan herself. Once Ayaka made her way up to the Jade Chamber, she exchanged a few diplomatic words, conveying her delight at meeting Ningguang, how she looked forward to the Kamisato Clan and Ningguang’s cooperation in the future, that she was thankful for being invited to Liyue. 

Ayaka knew the familiarities of diplomacy and polite words. This was a road she’d traveled so many times she’d worn grooves into it; she could walk it with her eyes closed. Ayaka loved the rocking ship and the shifting ground of the Alcor, but there was something to say about sinking into the solid ground of familiarity.

“You seemed quite in your element back there,” said Lumine as they exited the Jade Chamber.

“Ah, yes, well.” She brought her fan up to her face. “I am a daughter of the Kamisato Clan. I learned manners before I learned how to walk.”

Lumine laughed, high and full-chested. It startled and delighted her, so much so that, embarrassingly, Ayaka wondered how she could make it happen again.

“You know, I miss talking to you when I’m not in Inazuma,” said Lumine.

Ayaka’s heart stumbled. “You…do?”

“Yeah, of course I do.” Lumine’s eyes landed on Ayaka’s face before she turned the rest of her head. She smiled. “Do you?”

“I—” Archons, what was happening? “W-well, we’re friends, aren’t we? Of course, I do.”

Lumine’s smile widened, and Ayaka got the distinct sense she was being teased.

“Anyway.” Ayaka fanned herself and faced forward. “What else do you need me to do here? I have a few weeks left here, right? Which means there’s a lot to do so I should probably start preparing—”

“Well…I may have lied about that.” Lumine walked half a step in front of her. “That’s actually the extent of your duties. I wanted to give you more time to see Liyue on your own.”

Ayaka, despite herself, felt her heart pick up speed. “Oh?”

Lumine suddenly looked shy, though she’d been full of smiles earlier. “If…if that’s okay. I just figured you’d want to see more of the main continent before you had to go back to Inazuma. Of course, I won’t keep you if you have to return. I could find another ship that would take you back sooner and we can go together—”

“No,” interrupted Ayaka. “No, please. I would love to see more of Liyue. If you would be my guide.”

That smile reappeared. “Of course. I’d love to be your guide.”

Paimon suddenly appeared. “Paimon, too! Paimon will be your guide, too!”

Ayaka laughed. “Thank you to the both of you.” A tide of gratitude washed over her like a wave, so strong that it could knock her off her feet.

Under the press of nightfall, they snuck out of their lodgings, following the lamplight as they giggled down the road. She first took Ayaka out to look at the glaze lilies. She remembered how they looked during the day—closed like a fist. But now their petals had unfurled, blue and pink like Ayaka. She reached out and touched a petal, thinking about how lovely they looked growing in the soil, and how much they looked like the one Lumine had given her.

Liyue did not sleep at night like Inazuma did. Inazuma had quiet stragglers wandering through the cobblestone streets, led by lights as faint as the north star. But Liyue, even after dark, did not quiet. A second city woke with the evening under the glow of the red lanterns; people worked at the stalls late at night and continued to call out for customers as other children ran through the streets and over rooftops. 

But the most important part was that the dark was enough that Ayaka didn’t have to hide her face, didn’t have to hide anything because the people of Liyue did not know of her like Inazuma City did. 

Liyue harbor was massive, some grand creation latched onto the side of the shore, its limbs hanging over the mountains and dangling into the sea. Truly, this was the land of Rex Lapis because only a city under the Lord of Geo could plant its roots so deeply into the earth.

Ayaka thought Lumine would take her deeper into the city, to the bridges connecting rooftops and listen to Liu Su tell stories or get food at the stalls. But instead, they when they reached the edge of the city, Lumine turned to her and asked:

“Do you—want to go farther?”

Ayaka, slowly, was learning not to be afraid of saying, “Yes.”

In the following days, they pushed beyond the borders of the harbor and deeper into Liyue. They ventured into Wuwang Hill one day and Lumine joked that if Ayaka was afraid, she’d hold her hand.

“Who said I’m afraid?” Ayaka said. “You’ve done a lot of rescuing, I can protect you this time.”

The resulting smile Lumine gave her was brighter than the sun.

Ayaka was grateful for all the time she had in Liyue. She still loved Inazuma, she would never leave forever, but Archons was it lovely being here.

“Paimon thinks you’ve been smiling a lot lately, Ayaka,” said Paimon as they sat on top of a crumbling arch in Dunyu Ruins. Their feet dangled over the edge as they turned west to watch the blinding sunset sink below the mountains.

“Well, yeah, I am happy. I’m grateful to be here.” Ayaka swung her legs back and forth. There was so much space below them. It had been Lumine’s idea to climb up there, and at first Ayaka had been reluctant—she wasn’t used to climbing all over the place—but Lumine had pulled her up by the arms, hand to forearm to bicep until Ayaka was being hauled up by her shoulders and their faces were a breath away. They were sitting side by side now, though, one Paimon’s distance between them. “It’s my first time seeing the rest of Teyvat, after all. I wish I could see more though.”

“You could,” interrupted Lumine. “I could show you the rest.”

Ayaka wasn’t sure what to say to that. She opened her mouth, still halfway pondering, when Paimon suddenly shot up.

“Oh! Do you smell that?” Paimon floated up above their heads. Ayaka turned to see a green-clad adventurer eating something as they walked down the road. “Is that Mora Meat? Paimon is starving. Paimon hasn’t eaten anything but berries and mushrooms for forever.”

Lumine scrunched her eyebrows. “Are you complaining about my cooking?”

“No.” Paimon sounded almost pained. “Paimon would never—it’s just—Paimon’s so hungry—” She rotated in the air like a dial, flitting back and forth between Lumine and the adventurer. “Do you think she has more?”

“You could ask,” said Lumine wryly.

“Okay, Paimon will.” Paimon shot one last glance back. “Paimon will ask if she has multiple.”

“Just worry about yourself,” said Lumine.

But Paimon was already halfway to the adventurer, leaving Ayaka alone with Lumine atop the ruins.

Ayaka huffed a laugh. “She really only thinks with her stomach, doesn’t she?”

Lumine didn’t respond.

“Traveler?”

“I was serious, you know,” she said. “I would show you the rest of Teyvat.”

“That would be nice.” Ayaka thought about it distantly like a far away dream. “I still have duties in Inazuma, though. I can’t just up and leave. And I don’t think I’d want to leave Inazuma forever.”

“I wouldn’t make you,” said Lumine. “But—this trip to Liyue was good, right? You helped the shogunate and you got to leave Inazuma, and you’ll go back when it’s over.” Lumine shifted closer, and the Paimon length distance between them shrunk to less than half a Paimon. “But if you wanted to leave again, I would take you to Mondstat. Sumeru, too. There is a real need for Inazuma to re-establish diplomatic relations, so I could set up meetings with the Acting Grand Master and Lesser Lord Kusanali—I could take you there. With me. And I could show you all those flowers I talked about and we could go camping or find an inn if you need it. And—it would be nice to have someone fighting next to me again—whenever you can, of course. We’ve worked well together in the past, so…”

Ayaka didn’t realize she had lost all feeling in her fingers until her pulse stuttered—wildly—hacking out a wet cough. Was this real? Or was it all just a cruel dream where her subconscious played tricks on her mind and reality.

But who else would do this for her? Ayaka had grown with a solid root in Inazuma all her life, but the Traveler came and carefully extricated her from the soil, carefully gathered her roots and placed them in a pot before carrying her across the sea. 

Ayaka thought she’d see Teyvat—just like her mother. After all, it was easier not to mourn something she’d never known. But Lumine opened the window for her and beckoned her outside. What a strange mercy it was to let someone experience heartbreak like this: to get a taste of the world and have it pulled away rather than never know it at all. But Lumine extended her hand once again as a promise that this would not be her last time.

Go with you? Travel with you? Ayaka couldn’t fathom it.

Lumine shifted and Ayaka suddenly realized she hadn’t responded. “Of course—if you don’t want to, that’s also okay.” Lumine sounded so unsure, so unlike herself, it made Ayaka want to shake her by the shoulders. “I’m sorry, maybe I was too forward. You can just forget I said that and we can just go find Paimon—”

Ayaka grabbed her by her callused hands and squeezed. “Traveler.”

Lumine’s eyes shot up, widening on impact. “Yes?”

“Can I kiss you?”

Lumine let out a breath. Then, she laughed, eyes lighting with relief. “Yes, yes, of course you can.” She squeezed back, weaving her fingers between Ayaka’s.

“I’ve never kissed anyone before,” she whispered.

“That’s okay.” Lumine was leaning closer, her voice fluttering against Ayaka’s cheek like a heartbeat. “I can show you that, as well. You know, I could also be your guide.”

Ayaka scrunched her face and laughed. “This isn’t a landform. You don’t have to walk me through it.”

“Let me have my fun.” She could hear the smile laced through Lumine’s voice. 

Who would have thought that the world could shrink like this because someone had pulled off its veil for her? That Teyvat—unmasked—looked like the harbor, like the ruins, like the ache in her feet from walking miles and miles and the light pink on the back of her neck from a sun burning relentlessly? Oh, the tutors could speak to her of all the names of the flowers and the constellations, but how could that compare to the curl of a petal of a glaze lily newly unfurled? How could that compare to a hand in the dark drawing each line of a constellation for her?

There were no books that could describe the feeling of Lumine’s callused fingers reaching up, climbing the length of her neck to her ponytail. This could only be experienced with real air and real skin. 

“I’m glad I met you,” said Lumine.

“I’m grateful you found me in Inazuma,” said Ayaka.

And here, under the burning sunset, they planted something new: a seedling waiting to take root, waiting for a promise that it would grow. But it would, Ayaka swore it would as their faces pressed together like petals. She could propagate new roots. And even when she wasn’t there, this seedling would grow.