Work Text:
As a child, Hu Tao was afraid of the moon.
(She knew she shouldn’t fear something so benign, so natural. It simply reflected the rays of the sun and governed the tides. She had studied these processes in the textbooks she read as a child, and understood the vital role the moon played in her continued survival in Teyvat. Yet the unnatural color of its light, the dilution of the sun’s pure radiance, the lack of warmth , all sent shivers up her spine.)
When the sun set, she would hide inside one of the numerous coffins lying about the parlor to escape the pale light that haunted the night sky. Her grandfather would often scold her for this irrational fear. A child born of a funeral parlor did not fear ghosts, of course, and thus fearing the moon was unacceptable and foolish. (Even then, despite his harsh stance on the matter, he would still comfort Hu Tao at night, when the unearthly glow ruled the land. He would stay with her during the night, until the sun graced Teyvat with its presence once again. “Look, little Tao, the sun will always rise again! Just like life, the sun and moon will live and die, yet like humans, always they will remain eternal, even if they disappear.”)
Hu Tao’s best friend, conversely, was the sun. She was fascinated by the burning ball of light that crossed the sky everyday, bringing warmth to all those under its rays. She would sit with her friend and read novels during the day, absorbing information like a sponge to dazzle the parlor’s undertakers that took care of her. She would sit with the lions outside of the ministry buildings and describe the sight of the sun to their unseeing stone eyes. “The brilliance of the sun has once again warmed your stone hides, my friends! Look now, as it burns through the sky, its rays of light dancing as it heads for the sea to begin a new adventure.” She would sit with her grandfather and compete with him to see how long one could gaze at the sun before being forced to look away. (The parlor’s staff did not approve of this practice, but they could not interfere, not when joy it brought Hu Tao turned her into a tiny, glowing sun of her own.) The sun was her constant companion, and it felt the two could not be separated, as its light would always guide her path.
Then, of course, the 75th Director of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor passed, and Hu Tao’s life was plunged into night. She planned the funeral; it was a stately affair, for her grandfather had desired it so, and he wished to show all of Liyue that the Hu family’s expertise would continue on despite his demise. But the moon had eclipsed the bright sun that was Hu Tao’s mind, leaving her shrouded in grief and struggling to push forwards and cope.
When the funeral processions had ended and all respects had been paid, Hu Tao chose to brave the light of the moon to see her grandfather one last time. She knew the legends of Wuwang Hill; everyone at the parlor knew of them. And while few believed in fairytales, Hu Tao knew that for a legend to form, there had to be some shred of truth to base it off of. And so she took off at the dead of night, dashing from shadow to shadow to avoid the moon’s watchful gaze, hoping for a miracle that she knew wouldn’t happen.
The moon became her unwanted companion. For the two days of her journey, the moon lingered in the sky even as the sun rose and fell, a witness and judge of Hu Tao’s fruitless pursuits. When she finally reached the border, the spirits were waiting for her. They were ghastly lit in the light of the moon, and their shadows loomed over the small Hu Tao like mountains. But not the jeers of the spirits nor the moon would stop her from seeing her grandfather. So she sat and waited, in perpetual moonlight and solitude from living things, and watched her water dwindle away and her food crumble to dust.
Over time, she became numb to the world around her. The spirits faded away, the pain of hunger was long forgotten. There was only one thought: he has to be here , accompanied by the light from the moon that allowed her to continue searching for her grandfather. For this, she was thankful. In her darkest hour, her lifelong enemy had become her ally in a quest that should have been forsaken long ago.
The old lady she met after she passed out said as much. That her grandfather was ready to move on long ago, and she should allow him that peace. After a moment of thought, she realized this stranger was right: her father had lived in life with no regrets, and died in death with no regrets. He had no reason to linger, and thus Hu Tao had none either. Ready to return home, she had left Wuwang Hill only to be greeted by the dawning of the sun and the setting of the moon for the first time in days. While grateful for the warmth, she found that she was almost saddened by the moon’s temporary retreat. What had started as a scornful judge had become an ever-present strength that had allowed her to push on. Even then, she couldn’t help but smile at the birth of the sun: it was, after all, her closest friend.
From that day on, Hu Tao was no longer afraid of the moon.
Her return sent the parlor staff into a frenzy. They asked her why she ran off, what was she thinking, was little Tao okay? To all of these questions, she held up her newly gained Vision, smiled, and responded: “I conquered the moon!”
As time went on, Hu Tao found solace in the moon. She found that it brought out a more solemn side to her, one that she hadn’t thought to exist previously. But after the death of her grandfather, she had realized the importance of facing one’s emotions and not allowing them to control oneself. Thus, when under great duress, Hu Tao could be found wandering Liyue Harbor by moonlight, spouting poetry to herself and admiring the way the waves rocked against the wooden poles of the pier. However, without fail, Hu Tao could be found at the top of Mount Tianheng every morning, ready to grant the moon a sweet goodbye and wish the sun well as it was reborn.