Work Text:
Xiao steps forward, holding his spear firmly in his hand, his clothes dancing in the night breeze. The gentle glow of the moon caresses the Guili Plains, where tranquil waters flow on the coast. He approaches a group of Ruin Guards, gazing upon their imposing but statuesque forms. They stand like Millelith soldiers, their ancient secrets guarded by time, waiting for any intruders who dare to disturb them.
"Fields are for farmers and gardeners, not for me."
"These fields hold a certain charm in their simplicity."
"I... Duty is my purpose. There is no room for such distractions."
"Indeed. There is no need to–"
The sudden gust of wind interrupts Xiao's thoughts, bringing a haunting melody that sends shivers down his spine. It is unlike the voices he often hears when he wears his mask – a faint, soft weep, akin to a lost soul coming from somewhere and anywhere at once.
He keeps his eyes locked on the Ruin Guards, certain that the sound does not come from them. His instincts are too sharp for such a mistake. He steps back from the guards, his mind consumed by the source of the noise.
"Prickled roses trace..."
The weep starts to take shape, becoming more familiar with each word. His senses pick up the subtle nuances in the voice, like a friendly tune coming back to him.
Like a bolt of lightning, one name strikes his mind.
The one who has exchanged smiles. The one who has traveled across Teyvat. The one who has delighted in the beauty of moonlit nights and marveled at the sunrise from the top of the highest peaks. The one whose words flow like poetry, a river that surges with memories and emotions long buried in the streambed.
Xiao closes his eyes, tapping into his adeptus powers, and vanishes.
Guyun Stone Forest.
He finds himself at the very spot where he had once perched, looking across at the docks of the Crux fleet. Memories rush back to him, vivid and profound. Countless hours spent here, ever vigilant, ever alone, but never truly alone. He could hear him singing shanties along with his crew mates in the wind.
It was the place they both first crossed paths. But now, it is here that he believes he will find him.
He follows the gentle breeze and the soothing cadence of the flowing waters. The sea comes to him as he walks along, its waves brushing against his feet like a confidant with a deceptive composure. Their gentle caress are calming, and unsettling, as if the sea itself knows.
The moon intensifies with every step, its light urging him, quickening time itself in its presence.
And there he is.
Kazuha is seated by the waterside, watching over the distant horizon. In his hand, he holds a piece of paper, its edges stained with saltwater.
The adeptus comes closer, his movements as silent as the shifting sands beneath his feet. Kazuha turns, his crimson eyes flutters with recognition, and he smiles gently, as if he had sensed Xiao's presence all along.
"Xiao," he says softly. He hurriedly folds his paper, tucking it into his haori. "It's good to see you."
When Xiao gets closer, he can see the subtle rise and fall of Kazuha's chest, but something else in his crimson eyes catches his attention. He can sense a jumble of thoughts and confusions, tangled like a ship's rigging in a storm. He can't quite put his finger on the specifics of what he sees.
It's like trying to grasp a wisp of smoke. It slips through his understanding, but it's unmistakable. He is certain that he has seen a flicker that pierces through the mask.
A rare sight.
His golden eyes inquire silently, but he catches the flutter of Kazuha's eyelashes, a faint nod to reassure him that he does not need to pry.
He saw it coming.
Xiao stands quietly next to Kazuha, his jade spear ready to keep watch while his eyes wander over the scenery.
He traces the outline of the distant Liyue mountains. This land has witnessed countless adventures, dreams, and hopes. It is a place where contracts are deeply rooted, where nature's strength reflects those who call it home. In the embrace of the mountains lie both the told and untold, like pages in an ancient book, some waiting to be read, and others waiting to be written.
Nature is like a canvas for human emotions, and Xiao has a sense that Kazuha is painting his own over it. He can imagine the samurai's heart, like a locked chest in an undiscovered mountain cave, hiding away thoughts and feelings that have longed to break free.
Xiao thinks that feelings and desires were just memories concealed deep within the barren field. They have no meaning, something he could suppress because they were of no use. For hundreds of years, he has convinced himself that his duty, his karmic debts, his pain were his alone to bear, that he were nothing but a weapon sharpened for a single strike, nothing but a guardian who protects the land, nothing but a danger for anyone who came close.
And now, he finds himself struck by the intensity of what he witnesses.
Why is he so drawn to the mortal realm if he's convinced he's a threat to them?
How absurd.
"Indeed, there is no need to dwell on certain things."
The more he thinks about it, the more seeds of doubt they sow. He wants to understand what he's missed.
Oh.
Perhaps...
Perhaps this is what he felt when he was looking for him.
Xiao turns to Kazuha, who is still watching the horizon. He remembers the times they had together, when they shared moments of victory, when they fought side by side in effortless and intense battles – when Kazuha was there in times of need.
"The scenery is beautiful," Kazuha says, a smile making up his face. Xiao turns his attention back to the view. He has sensed... Gratitude. A soft, comforting hug in the air that strangely warms his heart.
But he can't forget what he just saw.
"The world is not as it appears."
Kazuha keeps smiling, but Xiao notices the discomfort in his eyes.
"The moonlight on the water, the gentle breeze... They have a way of soothing the soul. The beauty we find in the world becomes a refuge, a brief escape from what we face within. There is still serenity to be found."
Xiao may not comprehend the depths of his friend's thoughts, but he respects the strength it takes to maintain the facade. The world brings comfort in its own way, but deep down, Xiao wishes there was more he could do than just being there to provide support.
He reaches into his pocket and retrieves something small – a Chaos Core. He holds it out for Kazuha to see.
"What is this?"
"It's a gift, or whatever you mortals call it. Keep it."
Kazuha gently takes the Chaos Core into his hand and studies it, squinting his eyes. It's not something anyone would typically receive as a gift. He runs his fingers over the patterns on its surface. It feels strangely comforting in his palm.
He looks up at Xiao, "You have a way with gifts, my friend," he gently teases, "Thank you so much. I truly appreciate it."
Xiao nods, his eyes returning to the moonlit landscape once more, "I've faced the Ruin Guards in countless battles. They were dangers to anyone who crosses their path, a relentless force guarding the ancient ruins."
He takes a pause, lost in thought. "These machines, I realized, were protectors of the area, guardians of a forgotten legacy. And when I fought them, I have come to wonder... I have come to wonder... If there was something within their mechanical structures."
The samurai notices something in the way his friend's eyes squints in the moon's glow. He drifts his eyes back to the Chaos Core in his hand. This gift feels like a piece of Xiao himself. Just as the Ruin Guards have surprised Xiao with their intricacies, Kazuha has been presented with a side of his friend that's both unexpected and profound.
"I will always treasure this gift, Xiao." he smiles, his eyes locked on his friend. "It means more than you may realize."
The adeptus doesn't speak right away, taking time to think about the weight of his friend's words. His usually stoic expression softens just a bit.
"The world has many facets, and this is one of them." he nods, his tone calm but sincere.
But inside him, there is a strange thought, like a little voice in his mind hinting something that is incomplete, waiting to be uncovered.
Perhaps... that will bring him out of the world.
"Kazuha, I..." he pauses, and his thoughts begin to take shape. "There is something I wish to explore. Something related to the Ruin Guards that has intrigued me for some time..."
The samurai observes Xiao, and a faint smile appears on his lips, "You would like me to accompany you, wouldn't you?"
Xiao nods, and Kazuha stands up in silent agreement, his smile growing wider. He knows Xiao isn't one to invite first, so it's a honor to know that he trusts him enough to take this step.
"Take my hand."
Kazuha narrows. He is surely surprised by the request, and his trust in Xiao is unshaken, but his curiosity gets the best of him.
"Aren't some of the Ruin Guards on the nearby island?"
"Indeed. But what I wish to show you is not on that island."
Kazuha decides not to press further with questions and stretch forth his hand, ready to be guided by Xiao's mysterious plans. After all, his eagerness to travel and experience the world has always been anchored deep within his soul.
The adeptus uses his powers, creating a small whirlwind around them, and they both vanish.
Everything goes hazy for just a moment, and...
Before them lies a sea of flowers, a lovely blend of golden yellow and lively orange blossoms. Each flower sways gently in the night breeze, making a colorful harmony. In the distance, a waterfall pours into a clear pool, and the calm water reflects the moon like a liquid mirror. Water's gentle flow is a melody that serenades the senses. A wooden bridge over the pool can be found next to a single tree with orange leaves, its branches stretch out like open arms, and the leaves rustle softly.
The samurai blinks his eyes and takes a deep breath, inhaling the fragrant scent of the blossoms that fill the air.
"Well," he scoffs, turning his eyes to the field of flowers. "It seems the Ruin Guards have changed a lot through time, or perhaps my sense has."
Xiao's lips twitch slightly. He remembers their first meeting, how he used to find that carefree smile irksome. Someone who chose such a whimsical approach to life was beyond his understanding. He knows that Kazuha genuinely appreciates the world around him, but something about his demeanor is off.
He nods, his expression remaining calm and composed. The Ruin Guards are a part of their journey, but tonight, he has something different in mind.
He gently releases Kazuha's hand and steps forward into the field. His clothes brushes against the petals like a gentle touch to comfort them. He turns around, his golden eyes behind the mask meeting Kazuha's gaze, and his thoughts begin to wander.
Kazuha wears a thoughtful, patient expression. He knows better than to interrupt. He does not understand what Xiao is up to right now, but he's willing to let his friend find whatever it is he seeks in this field of flowers.
Xiao closes his eyes, the moonlight and the scent of blossoms enveloping him. A strange feeling lingers in his heart.
He takes a deep breath, and his chest inflates and deflates in a steady rhythm. His fingers hover near the mask that conceals his face. He thinks about taking it off, the shield he has long used to prevent from emotions and distractions. Tonight, he feels a strong desire.
He lowers his arm with a slow motion and leaves the mask in place. Duty and purpose remain his guiding forces, but he acknowledges the existence of something he's only begun to grasp.
He lays down his jade spear, resting on the ground next to him, and his thoughts become as fluid as his body.
His arms, which were stiff in battle, begin to move. They rise and fall, tracing intricate shapes in the air. His hands, gloved and precise, swing in gentle arcs, fingers stretching and curling with finesse. His legs, usually swift and focused, now move in a slow rhythm, stepping lightly on the ground beneath him. His feet glide with an elegance that defies their usual function of quick footwork in combat.
Kazuha blinks, his mind like a maze with no clear exit. He had never imagined that the resolute adeptus possessed such a talent. His heart trembles with a sensation he can't quite define. Something about him, his movements, stirs within. Xiao's mask – the very symbol of his duty and purpose, of stillness and motion, of hiding and revealing – vanishes from his face. His eyes are exposed, its intensity locked onto Kazuha like a vortex pulling him deeper into the performance.
The lines of his face become distinct under the moon, as if a fresh and untouched burst bubbles up within his soul. It feels irresistibly magnetic, like a warm and welcoming charm that reflects genuine joy. This smile, rare like a flower unfolding its petals, heartfelt like a surrender to the world.
So this is what it feels like to be free.
Behind that warm smile, that undeniable joy in his movements... Kazuha senses that his dance is misleading, like how his mask fades away. He feels his own heart racing, and weak, like a sailor stranded in a calm sea without a breeze to guide him.
Kazuha looks down, his inner trouble like a turbulent storm swirling within. He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to barricade the deluge of feelings threatening to overflow. The struggle to keep his composure is as clear as crystal in the way his body tenses.
He cannot hold back any longer.
The weight of everything he's been holding in, the jumbled feelings that he usually puts into poems or haikus, the longing, and the sheer intensity of the moment all come crashing down on him.
He breaks down with a choked whine in his throat. Tears roll down his cheeks, and his shoulders shake with the force of his sobs. It's like a bursting barrier, allowing all the pent-up emotions to access inside his usual calm territory.
It's been so long since he felt this way, perhaps not since the day he wrote that letter to his father on the summit of a shady hill.
It is not a terrifying eruption in itself. He has come a long way from the child who feared his own emotions, he has learned to understand and embrace his feelings, to be honest about it. Yet, he still believes that strangers, fellow travelers, friends, and especially people like Xiao, who has been battling their own struggles for as long as they can remember, shouldn't have to witness his emotional outpouring.
Xiao stands in the middle of the field, his eyes never leaving his friend. He's not used to witnessing such display, especially from someone as carefree as Kazuha.
He's torn between reaching out to comfort him and respecting his space. Kazuha must have carried a heavy emotional burden for a long time to reach this breaking point.
The samurai takes a few deep breaths, his shoulders gradually relaxing. The storm of emotions that had engulfed him begins to recede like ocean waves. He blinks away the tears, his gaze meeting Xiao who approaches with quiet concern.
"Thank you, Xiao," he says softly, his voice steady but filled with the remnants of emotion. "For being here, for understanding. I... I hope you can forgive this moment of weakness."
The adeptus appreciates Kazuha's gratitude and trusts in their bond. He has much to learn about understanding and expressing human emotions, and perhaps this moment is a step in that direction. But he also acknowledges that he might actually be the one to owe Kazuha an apology for his cryptic intentions. His actions often speak louder than words, and his plans may have left Kazuha with concerns. He resolves to find a way to convey his thoughts and intentions better, even if it means stepping out of his comfort zone.
"I should have told you," he says, his tone low but sincere. "I brought you here because..."
His head turns away. He is not accustomed to explaining himself in such a manner, but he understands that it's necessary.
"Because I wanted to show you something. Something beyond the Ruin Guards... This field..." he trails off, recalling that conversation. He could hear his own resolute words.
"I thought they were only for farmers and gardeners, that duty was my sole purpose. Rex Lapis once told me not to dwell on certain things. I've carried those words with me for several hundred years, wondering what they truly meant," he turns to face Kazuha, "And now I think... I think I finally understand."
The arrows in his golden pools. The same one that tries to find its mark, the same one that stirred the samurai's heart earlier. The way it seems to dance, just as it did during his mysterious performance. It leaves him in a trance, and it refuses to leave its hold on him.
"Life is filled with moments of beauty, like this field of flowers." Kazuha manages to speak. His lips curl into a smile, so sweet, so pure, as if struck by inspiration. "Embracing them doesn't diminish your purpose, it enriches it."
Xiao's thoughts wander. The wisdom is similar, but coming from Kazuha, it carries a distinct resonance.
His master had tried, in his own way, to convey that Xiao was more than just a weapon of war, that he too could experience the joys of life. But the constraints of their respective status, master and servant, god and adeptus, had made it difficult for Rex Lapis to fully articulate it.
Kazuha may not know the full extent of Xiao's ancient beliefs and the restrictions he's imposed on himself over the centuries, but his words break through the barriers. He is a human, one with an understanding forged through life's experiences and the intricacies of emotions. He has shown Xiao that he can continue to fulfill his purpose while allowing himself to experience the richness of existence. To find joy in the simplest of things, and to cultivate connections with those who have become a meaningful part of his journey.
He feels an unusual warmth in his chest, a sense of liberation he never thought he'd experience. His golden eyes have become soft like gentle cotton, and his lips follow the curve of a crescent moon.
One of the orange leaves from the nearby tree falls gently, its descent accompanied by the sound of the distant waterfall.
For this adeptus, this Vigilant Yaksha.
This mortal in disguise.
Kazuha takes a slow, steadying breath, giving himself some time to collect. His smile, though marked by traces of his earlier tears, remains, and his eyes meet Xiao.
"I suppose I have become a poet without words now," he says, his tone twinkling with a lighthearted smile.
"It suits you," Xiao states, his expression serious, his eyes seem dreamy.
Kazuha's heart flutters like a captured butterfly. He wonders if his words hit their intended mark. The nature of poetry can be a vessel for emotions, a mean to connect souls, and bridge gaps.
But what if his words fell short?
"Ah, but you see, an adeptus like you would find my poetry too frivolous." Kazuha retorts, "Perhaps I should stick to more serious matters."
Xiao shakes his head. His initial response was somewhat automatic, but as he considers Kazuha's words, he realizes that it did not fully convey what he meant.
Words touch the heart in ways that seriousness sometimes cannot.
"No, it's not that..." he trails off, his face on the edge of letting go.
His gloved hand, almost instinctual, moves forward. His fingers, hesitant but devoted, caress a single tear from Kazuha's cheek. His touch is akin to a soft breeze, cool and tender.
He cannot explain why he did it.
But it feels right.
Kazuha feels a thrilling sensation running down his spine. His heart melts, warmth spreading through him like the sweetness of warm apple crumble with ice cream.
There is more to it than wishing to be found.
"You should wear them more," Xiao whispers. He does not usually get involved in mortal matters for their sake. He has often been the harbinger of caution, usually issuing his warnings when danger looms or when someone becomes too entwined with him.
But this advice sounds right.
He wanted his friend to paint his emotions over him too, to bring him out of the world.
His touch starts gently, as if he handles a fallen leaf with delicacy, then become caring, trying to absorb the turmoil.
Kazuha does not know what it means, but he knows Xiao bemuses his soul.
"I will," he sighs, feeling a weight lifting off his shoulders. He wails himself in the comforting touch, knowing he has found someone who will not judge him, someone he can freely share his vulnerability with.
In this quiet moment, they forge a silent pact, and as the wind rustles through the leaves and the waterfall hums in the background, Kazuha reaches into his haori, taking out the paper with edges seemingly dried.
"It seems that inspiration found its way right on time," he muses, brightening with wonder as he unfolds the paper, revealing the last two lines he had been searching for.
He completes his composition on the paper with careful strokes. Xiao remains quietly attentive, intrigued by Kazuha's creative process. When Kazuha finishes the last part of his writing, he hands the paper to Xiao.
Prickled roses trace,
Paths crossed, moon blooms in stars' wake,
A way found, not lost.
Xiao's eyes track the haiku's words, and as he reads Kazuha's creation, something changes inside him, and he understands the meaning. The first line is the same one he heard when he felt the gust of wind in the Guili Plains, the same voice repeating it while sobbing.
It's the line that sets him on a quest with his friend, and in those seventeen syllables, Kazuha has captured the heart of their journey together. The intricate dance of emotions, and the beauty that can emerge from the most challenging circumstances.
He looks up from the paper, and Kazuha grins as he sees the appreciation in Xiao's eyes. He feels a deep connection, as if their souls had brushed against each other.
It's too late.
Kazuha glances away, his cheeks blushing modestly. The bright pearl in the dark night sky shines bright. It gently touches everything below, as if it were turning dreams into reality.
Xiao's eyes lock on him, studying the way the moonlight highlights his features. The wind strokes Kazuha's white hair gently, like an artist's touch. His haori flows like a river in the soft light, its edges moving in a ballet. The hakama billows like a tranquil sea, capturing the peaceful atmosphere. His low ponytail, tied on the side, swings like a pendulum, keeping time with the night's whispers.
He looks back and forth between Kazuha and the moon, feeling a strong pull that causes his gloved hand to shake, longing to find its place, to bridge the gap between impulse and the boundaries he has always known.
The night air is becoming charged with a quiet, growing palpable tension. Some petals in the field of flowers are about to open, like secrets ready to be uncovered. The orange leaves of the tree rustle more urgently, falling faster as the wind picks up. They flutter to the ground like a soft percussion in the quiet night. The distant waterfall, once a gentle hum, has become louder, its rushing water turning into a roaring chorus that fills the air.
The wind, once a gentle caress, has become stronger, swirling around like a whirlwind. It carries the scent of blossoms, the rustle of leaves, and the distant song of the waterfall. And above it all, the moon shines brighter, spreading its intense light like a spotlight. Every breath is amplified, as if the world is holding its breath. It's as if the very elements of nature are scheming to bring two lovebirds together.
Xiao takes a step closer to Kazuha. He can feel his heart beat in rhythm with the tension, and an undeniable, overwhelming desire takes over him. His quivering hand inches closer and their fingers brush together, a fleeting touch that send a shiver down Kazuha's spine.
Kazuha turns his head to face Xiao, and his cheeks burn with an intense blush. Those golden eyes, like two shining stars, hold a gravity that makes him captive once again. He feels himself falling, not towards the darkness, but into something beautifully bewildering.
Their hands find each other, fingers interlocking like a gentle dance. Xiao's gloved hand is firm and tender, a contrast to the softness of Kazuha's skin beneath the fabric.
"Is there anything else you wish to show me?" he asks, his voice steady despite the racing of his heart.
Xiao shakes his head slightly, his dark hair swinging with the movement. His fingers tightens their hold on Kazuha's hand, conveying his intent to stay by his side.
There is no doubt about it.
He wants to learn more about this fascinating mortal.