Chapter Text
The shop was quiet and reasonably so, as closing hours loomed by and his usuals had taken their doses for the day… except for Granny Qing who always arrived ten minutes after closing, but Kazuha did not mind. He should be cleaning up. Clearing tables of crushed herbs and broken glass, preparing to leave his little abode to wander around in the night. But a buzz in the air stopped him, much like lightning brewing in the clouds, leaving you to wait for its strike.
His bandaged hand gripped the handle of his sword. A dull ache accompanied it, although it did nothing to deter his strength. He had long learned to fight with pain in the back of his mind.
Electricity hummed in the air. A technique Beidou often used to intimidate those of low ranks, a foreboding curtain to announce one’s arrival. But Beidou was sailing in Inazuma, and the only other electro-wielders he knew were either dead or traveling the world. Which only meant this was an approaching stranger with ill intent.
He unsheathed his sword and kept it ready under the desk table. The calming scent of the forest and citrus — similar to his eucalyptus perfume — wafted off the Amortentia sprayed around the shop. Although a tired smile laced his lips when burnt cigarettes joined the fray; his lover must be quite the smoker, it seemed.
The smile fell off when a soft chime of bells signaled the entrance of a stranger. As he expected, the air came to life. An electric crackle infused the atmosphere and made the hair on his arms rise. Kazuha picked up an empty perfume bottle and focused on polishing it to conceal his suspicion, his sharpened blade ready for blood if any trouble ensued.
“Hi!” said the stranger, and Kazuha looked up.
Oh.
Entrancing was the word.
The short graceful man stood on the other side of the desk table, regarding him with soft moonlit eyes. Pearl white teeth gleamed at him, showcasing a perfect smile along with a perfect doll-like face. His dark violet, almost black, hair brightened his complexion to make his skin look fairer than it was. Black silk robes hung off the stranger’s figure, a subtle indication of his wealth Kazuha took note of. There was something in his silvery honeyed voice that was fascinating. His cool, white, flowerlike hands, even, had a curious charm. They moved, as he spoke, like flowing music, and seemed to have a language of their own.
If Kazuha was a weaker man, he would’ve fallen for such an obvious ruse.
“Good evening.” Kazuha rolled the words off his tongue, concealing any potential information he could give off with a neutral mask.
His stoic greeting did not bother the stranger.
The stranger's smile widened, even, as he leaned forward and rested his elbows on the counter.
“Evening to you, too! This shop is gorgeous. The little trinkets here and there, along with the scents from the perfumes…” He giggled, fluttering his pretty lashes. “It all makes me feel so at home!”
Kazuha only nodded, face not changing from his blank stare. The stranger may be pretty, but the air around him was foul. He had the essence of someone who took countless lives — a cold-blooded murderer. If he had to describe the winds surrounding this man, it would be wailing; whether they were of the dead or the owner, Kazuha did not know.
“Do you need assistance with your perfume?” Kazuha asked, careful not to show his suspicion.
If the stranger threw a tantrum, he’d rather not have his shop destroyed in the aftermath. He cared about this little shop, as much as Granny Qing liked to say he only did this in honor of Tomo. Because “staying cooped up in here is bad for ya!” as she would say, which was true, but Kazuha enjoyed experimenting with different scents anyway.
“I need your assistance with something else.” The stranger leaned in and lowered his voice. “I’m here to buy your… poison.”
Kazuha placed the glass bottle down and gripped his sword under his desk. “My apologies, I do not sell such things.”
The smile on the pretty stranger’s face fell in an instant. A frown marred his features and Kazuha had to control the shock from his face. He knew this stranger was dangerous, a murderer even, but he genuinely believed the stranger had that honeyed personality.
What a splendid actor, Kazuha internally mused.
“I don’t sell to people like you,” he continued as a test and watched the way lines of electricity bounced off the stranger’s skin.
The stranger didn’t seem like a shapeshifter impersonating someone. He didn’t have the usual scent abyss creatures had, or the unique essence every human carried. It was peculiar, but fascinating nonetheless. Kazuha had met people who smelled like this —like an otherworldly being. Aether and the Raiden Shogun as examples.
For such a skilled actor, this man was quite fragile when he lifted his visor.
The stranger’s lips curled down. Arrogance replaced the sweetness once there. “Excuse me?”
This, Kazuha could tell, was the stranger's real mask. And from the looks of it, no bloodlust wafted off him. Which meant Kazuha was safe, for now. The stranger’s complete turnaround of emotions was bizarre. Within him, it raised the question: Is it truly poison that you want?
“I said, I do not sell such things to people like you.”
The electricity flared, buzzing around the shop but it meant no harm. Across the counter, the stranger narrowed his eyes, but it failed to have its desired effect. Kazuha almost smiled at the poor attempt at intimidation. It would have worked if he didn’t know the stranger had no intention of causing harm.
“Fuck you mean people like me? I’m a customer. I’m buying your shit!”
“And this so-called shit,” Kazuha said, voice flat, “is not meant to be sold to people like you.”
Kazuha could almost read the stranger’s mind. ‘Stupid fucking asshole.’ It was predictable. Entitled customers who did not get their way always acted like this, and Kazuha was used to dealing with them.
The stranger crossed his arms, and Kazuha let go of his sword for now. This person was harmless at the moment. The poison must be important to him, for reasons still unknown.
“Are you dumb?”
Kazuha met his gaze. “No, I just have a code of honor.”
“You literally sell illegal substances. You fucking sell poison. What kind of fucked up code of honor are you talking about—”
“You don’t know the password.”
That simple statement sent the stranger through several stages of unconcealed rage. And since Kazuha did not have enough weed to get him through a dozen lawsuits from neighboring shops if this stranger blew up the entire deck, he explained as patiently as possible.
“Only trusted people who know the password are allowed to buy from my other… business. You not knowing it only means you aren’t to be trusted.”
In truth, Kazuha did not need a password to discern whether someone was reliable or not. He got an off-the-bat idea from the password-protected suitcase he used to store his poisons. Despite Kazuha’s dislike for lies, he felt this was a necessity with the stranger looking like he would electrocute Kazuha right then and there for saying no.
“Fucking shit…” the stranger muttered, before lunging across the counter to grab Kazuha’s collar. A last resort, it seemed. “I don’t give a flying fuck about your code of honor.”
The stranger was not even tall enough to lean across the counter, which deducted points from his intimidation factor. Kazuha looked past the stranger’s shoulder. The sun was down, which meant it was, in fact, closing hours and he was now working overtime.
Kazuha sighed. He even planned to get drunk in a tavern and maybe write songs with Yunjin after work. But alas, this beautiful stranger ripped his fruitful evening from his hands. So, with the tiredness of someone who worked a nine-to-five, he said, “No password, no poison.”
The stranger pulled him closer until they were nose to nose. Oh, and Kazuha took back that statement of him being a stronger man. He was more exposed to the pretty face and its horrid personality at this proximity. Kazuha’s gaze flickered down to the stranger’s lips without shame, but the stranger was still going through several stages of rage to notice.
“Then tell me, shopkeeper. How do I obtain this password?”
“My name is Kazuha. Don’t call me shopkeeper.”
“I don’t give a shit, Kazuha. The password.”
“No.”
“Excuse me?”
“I said no—” Kazuha released himself from the stranger’s grip with the help of Anemo.
Inhuman strength, he noted at the initial struggle. Everything about this man was peculiar, and Kazuha had already concluded: his scent, his winds, and his lack of a vision despite having an unusual power level. There was no doubt, this man was a non-human in the league of Aether and the Shogun. He was right to be cautious.
Kazuha continued, “You’ve already proven your corrupted resolve.”
“Corrupted resolve?” the stranger repeated like Kazuha was high — which he was not, but he wanted to be. Maybe if he was not currently working overtime in his own shop. “What kind of honorable person would buy fucking poison. Did you even think about your target demographic when you started your shitty business?”
Even Kazuha could admit this stranger had a point. His late best friend did have a flawed business structure, but Kazuha was not a scholar or a businessman, so why not let it be? And why was this person so concerned about the way Kazuha ran his shop? A brat who did not hesitate to blabber his mouth on people’s business… Kazuha felt bad for this guy’s co-workers.
He said none of that, though. Instead, he only laughed. “Even I agree with your sentiments. It is quite flawed but…” For a moment, Kazuha pondered if he should say what he truly felt, but there was no point. The past was in the past, so he shrugged. “It is what it is.”
Fingers snapped in front of his face, and Kazuha had to take a second to process if this man truly just did that. Arrogance leaked into this man’s every limb and the disrespect was clear, but Kazuha found it fascinating. How could someone lack this much conformity?
The stranger smirked. “If you don’t agree, then just give me the poison.”
Kazuha opened his mouth to retort, but the change in winds alerted him of the incoming arrival of Granny Qing. His lips straightened into a thin line. There was no telling what this man would do in the presence of a third party — if he would take her hostage or not for his poison.
So, Kazuha settled on a firm, “Leave.”
“No.”
“Stubbornness is of no use to you. I won’t sell my poisons.”
“I don’t give a shit.” The stranger snatched a nearby bottle and slammed it on the table. Something told Kazuha he did not know what this bottle contained because buying joint pain essential oil ruined any lingering chance he had at intimidation. “I’m buying this.”
Kazuha bit the side of his cheek to prevent a smile, but he could not control the raise of his brow.
“What? Need a password to buy perfume? A code of fucking honor?”
“No…” Kazuha placed the Premium Joint Pain Eucalyptus Essential Oil with Anemo and Archaic Stone Extract — Say Goodbye to Pain! into a bag. As an act of kindness, Kazuha would say nothing. Let this man have his power trip. To ensure no semblances of a laugh cracked onto his face, he changed the topic. “Why do you need poison so much?”
“For world domination.” The stranger snatched the bag, and Kazuha’s tongue dried up when their fingers brushed, much like the sizzle when hot water met cold. Electrifying, almost. Kazuha wanted to reach out and grab the stranger’s hand just to reminisce about the sensation, but he did not.
“Funny.” He tried to calm down. “Five thousand mora,” he said without thinking when the original price was seven thousand. Goodness. A stranger has never unnerved him this much.
A shit-eating grin crept on the stranger’s lips, and Kazuha’s attention captured the crinkle in his eyes and the small mole underneath on top of his left cheek. He spouted no lies when he said this stranger was entrancing. That was, until—
“So, how do I obtain this password?” The stranger dangled the mora in front of Kazuha’s face. Ah, yes. That was until he opened his mouth.
“You have to earn my trust, so I know you won’t use it for evil.” Kazuha made no move to grab the money. “But I believe we already know…”
The stranger’s lips pouted a little at Kazuha’s refusal to engage in his power trip. As if to cover up his diminishing ego, he scoffed and tossed the mora over. “I’ll earn your damn trust if that’s all I need.”
“It’s not as easy as you think.” Then, to test a lingering theory, he off-handedly mentioned, “Now that I know you’re fatui.”
“Then why haven’t you called the guards on me?”
Kazuha hummed. So he was fatui? His hands stored the mora in a cotton bag to conceal his surprise. That was important information, why would he let that slip? When the silence stretched too long, he grinned.
“I’m not quite sure either.”
The stranger’s face scrunched up, unreadable, before whirling around to strut out of the shop. Kazuha pretended not to hear the muttered, “Whatever, weirdo.”
Not long after the stranger's leave, the bells chimed, and in came an old woman who walked into a shop with lingering traces of Electro. Kazuha smiled and bowed his head. "You're just in time, Granny. I was just about to close up."