Work Text:
February 6
Chinvat Ravine
Scaramouche breathed heavily. He stood in ankle-deep water at Chinvat Ravine, the outskirts of Sumeru City. Fish darted here and there. Patches of dry land emerged from the water like large stepping stones. Trees overlooked the ravine’s banks. In the distance, a waterfall flowed.
Throwing a hand to the side, Scaramouche summoned a wind blade. It blew past a nilotpala lotus, missing it by a hair’s breadth. Squawking, cranes took flight. Scaramouche scowled. Not fast enough. Grunting, Scaramouche unleashed a volley of gales. Water flew into the air.
Shaking his head, Scaramouche wiped his brow. The humid air made his robes stick like a second skin. Killing time like this until Lesser Lord Kusanali’s next mission is a waste of my abilities. I was at the top of my game when fighting in the Abyss under The Doc—
Dottore’s voice whispered in his ear. “Do you truly think you’re free?”
Scaramouche tensed.
“You may have changed masters, but you’re still a puppet jumping at someone’s beck and call. And haven’t you forgotten about your hands?”
Chest tight, Scaramouche glanced down. Chains cuffed Scaramouche’s wrists. Blood oozed from underneath. A chill shot down Scaramouche’s spine.
Dottore laughed.
Crying out, Scaramouche blasted off a ball of anemo energy. A tree trunk cracked, wood shrapnel flying. Groaning, the tree leaned to the side.
Scaramouche’s hands shook. Exhaling, he ran it through his bangs. Sweat slid down his face. It’s just my mind playing tricks on me. Forget it—
“Are you all right?”
Scaramouche looked up. Behind him stood Nahida, her quicksilver hair and dress gently billowing in the breeze. She glanced at the twisted remains of the tree. Her brows wrinkled.
Looking away, Scaramouche crossed his arms. “What? Does the sight surprise you? Because it shouldn’t. I’m not some soft-hearted human. I destroy things. You already knew that when you accepted me to be your ‘asset.’”
Nahida gazed at the tree for a moment longer before turning to him. “Yes, that’s why I'm here.”
“Oh, an assignment? I’ve been getting bored with training against the chump fungi around here.”
Smiling, Nahida set a hand on her hip. “If you crave for some variety to dispel the minutiae, the Akademiya’s doors are always open! There’s attending lectures, borrowing books—”
Scaramouche shot Nahida a withering stare. “I’m not looking to make friends.”
Sighing, Nahida shook her head. She approached Scaramouche and handed him a leather-bound book. “If you are persistent about not visiting the Akademiya, then here. I’d like you to have this instead. Think of this as a tool to help you understand yourself more. Write about all your thoughts and feelings, like a daily journal. Or if writing about yourself is too difficult, try exploring your perspective on humanity.”
Scaramouche blinked at the book. “Wait, this… this diary is my new mission? If this is your way of ensuring I don’t double-cross you, wouldn’t using your ability to read people’s minds be more convenient than reading my scribbles in some journal?”
“You misunderstand my intentions.” Nahida stood at the ravine’s edge, gazing down at the water. Scaramouche’s anemo had muddied the surface, making it impossible to see her reflection. “Self-reflection is like beholding your image in the water. At times, it’s too obscure and cloudy to see a true reflection of yourself. But if you dig deeper…” Nahida reached into the water and pulled out a nilotpala lotus. Smiling, she presented the blooming flower to Scaramouche. “You may come to understand hidden revelations about yourself.”
Nahida placed the lotus in Scaramouche’s hand. “You have my word as the archon of wisdom that I won’t read anything you write in it. But I do look forward to hearing about any realizations you discover! So best of luck.” With that, Nahida dematerialized in wisps of dendro.
In her wake, the ravine fell silent except for the gurgle of water and drone of bugs. Scaramouche gazed at the lotus. The sun set the yellow petals aglow. He could smell a faint sweet scent.
Nahida had once explained the significance of the lotus to Scaramouche. Uniquely to them, lotuses could take root in dirty mud. At night, the lotus submerges beneath the water into the mud but miraculously reblooms the next morning, sparkling clean.
Scowling, Scaramouche crushed the lotus with a hand. He threw it aside. My feelings? My perspective on humanity? Ha! How absurd. There’s nothing to learn from humans. What a waste of time.
March 18
House of Daena
Lesser Lord Kusanali has been pestering me nonstop about visiting the Akademiya. It’s every single day with her! Now all it takes is her materializing and smiling at me and I know exactly what she wants. So irritating. If I visit once and scribble an entry in this journal, she should get off my back for a while. The last time I went, I wrote an essay in response to a man’s poor research into the Tatarasuna incident. Maybe there’s a reply. If nothing else, seeing sleep-deprived researchers panic about deadlines is vaguely amusing.
Scaramouche scanned the Akademiya library shelves. Behind him, students quietly discussed their theses. Shoes clacked against the tiles. Pages flipped. Everything in the library echoed with its multiple floors and domed ceiling.
Frowning, Scaramouche ran a finger across the books’ spines. “Inazuma Cuisine, A Brief Overview of Inazuma History, Commentaries on Inazuma Society from Various Authors… Wait.” Scaramouche pulled out a book and flipped through it. “Huh, they actually published my writings. Interesting.”
“Lower your voice, Janaki! We don’t need more attention on us than we already have.”
Scaramouche glanced over his shoulder. In one nook, three people occupied a table: two men and a woman. The woman, Janaki, held her head. “So Jani was sentenced for academic fraud and jailed. Thankfully, the matra is allowing us and all the others who worked with him on the project to still graduate.”
The man pushed up his glasses. “I heard the matra are starting some board to review every proposed experiment from the Akademiya for ‘ethical considerations.’”
Scoffing, the other student threw up a hand. “Even more red tape to go through. Such madness. As Akademiya scholars, we’re the forerunners of humanity’s advancement as a species. All of Teyvat should be thanking us, not chaining us…”
Scaramouche’s lips curled in a snarl. He thought, Experimenting with no concern for others… just like The Doctor.
Scaramouche summoned his journal and quill, tore out a page, and began writing down their physical descriptions. He smirked.
They’ve been left off too lightly. Time to see Lesser Lord Kusanali.
March 18
Sanctuary of Surasthana
Nahida looked up from the paper Scaramouche gave her. “You want me to ensure they’re imprisoned? But from what you’ve told me of their conversation, the matra has already investigated the incident and passed judgment.”
Scaramouche set his hands on his hips. “Like you honestly believe they won’t turn right around and commit fraud or some other crime in their next research project. Once a bad apple, always a bad apple.”
Frowning, Nahida examined the page again. “This paper is from your journal, isn’t it?”
“So what if it is?”
“As I thought.” Nahida’s soft voice carried across the sanctuary’s vast space. “The purpose of this journal was to discover more about humans and thus more about yourself. Not to criminalize others.”
Scaramouche set his hands on his hips. “Well, what I’ve learned is pretty obvious: humans are scum. But that’s not some earth-shattering revelation or anything.”
Nahida beheld Scaramouche in silence, gaze inscrutable. “I see. Well, I appreciate you bringing your concern to me. I’ll contact the matra and learn more about the circumstances around their case. Right now, there’s a more pressing matter at hand. I have been receiving regular reports from the Forest Rangers regarding how the former Darshans’ studies in Avidya Forest are progressing, but I’d like you to confirm their reports firsthand.”
Scaramouche stilled. He smiled like a Cheshire cat. “Finally. Something worth my time.” Dipping his hat, Scaramouche turned and headed out the door.
No doubt the sages are lying low, waiting to pounce on the first opportunity to get revenge on Lesser Lord Kusanali. I’ll just need to gather enough evidence of their schemes, and then she can execute them like she should have done in the first place. After all, good guys fight for justice, don’t they? Just doing my duty.
After the doors closed behind Scaramouche, Nahida held her chin with a hand. “So he’s come to the water’s edge… Hopefully this will be the nudge he needs to look deeper.”
April 3
Avidya Forest
It’s been two weeks. I’ve been watching the sages from the shadows like a hawk all this time, but there’s been no trace of secret meetings or plans. But these unrepentant crooks must be conspiring something; I’m just missing the signs. Not getting results isn’t like me. I have to investigate more.
Arms crossed, Scaramouche leaned against a tree. He stood in a forest on a rise overlooking a river. Scaramouche dipped his hat down, keeping his face in the shade. However, it amounted to little against the humidity. Leaves rustled in the breeze. A dusk bird cawed. Below, sages knelt by the water’s edge, equipment and distillers spread around them. Despite the distance between them, Scaramouche could hear them by using anemo and listening to their voices on the wind.
One sage threw their hat aside. “The indignities we have to suffer! Working in heat, getting on our hands and knees and performing tests for them. We’re destined to be more than someone’s lapdog.”
Another one shook his head. “Worst of all, this process is relatively straightforward, so they could learn how to do it on their own. But I guess it’s too complicated for their simple minds.”
“Ugh, this is going to take forever. And after Azar’s god plan failed, no god is going to save us now.”
Scaramouche’s eyes narrowed. I’ve never seen a lazier or more ungrateful bunch in my life. Their bellyaching grates on my ears worse than the Traveler’s whiny fairy. If they were my subordinates back in the Fatui, I would have thrown them in the ocean already.
Scaramouche glanced down at his journal—he had written a list of the sages’ activities from the past two weeks. Farming, erecting defenses against monsters, caring for the rainforest wildlife. And now testing to see if water was safe to drink for Vimara Village.
Scaramouche tore out the list and crumpled it. No, there has to be more. As if these blasphemous lowlifes turned over a new leaf. It’s time for new measures.
April 3
Gandharva Ville
In Gandharva Ville, a large wooden hut served as lodgings for the sages. Rows of beds lay out in the open with dressers in between and desks along the opposite wall. Scientific equipment, textbooks, and personal effects lay scattered across the surfaces. Outside, the muffled bustle of the forest rangers sounded. A dog barked.
Jaw set, Scaramouche dug through a dresser. He shoved aside clothes, notes, and family photos. In the deepest recesses of a drawer, Scaramouche discovered a letter. Bingo.
His eyes skimmed the page. He read, “My dearest Anima, I tried writing this letter several times, but—”
Scaramouche balled up the letter and tossed it aside. “I don’t understand. This can’t be right—”
Outside the door, voices spoke. “I gotta say, despite their constant complaining, the sages have been doing spectacular work. Their manpower and technical know-how have sped up several projects’ timelines already. Maybe we should hold a feast for them.”
“Yeah, that sounds like a great idea—oh! Someone’s here!” The door opened, revealing Collei and Tighnari. Wide-eyed, they stared at Scaramouche.
Tighnari crouched in a fighting stance, arm raised as if about to summon his bow. “Who are you?”
Exhaling, Scaramouche rose to standing. “I’m a matra that was sent unannounced to confirm your reports on the sages.”
“A matra? Cyno never told me anything about this…”
“Hence ‘unannounced.’”
“Yeah, I heard you. These ears aren’t just for show. What do you want to know?”
Eyes narrowed, Scaramouche lifted his head to gaze down his nose at Tighnari. “How can you trust the sages with Vimara Village’s safety or building city defenses against monsters? Don’t you know just how many people have died at their hands?”
Tighnari blinked. “Yes, what they did was inexcusable. But they’re making great strides.”
Nodding, Collei raised her fists to chest height. “Yeah! They’re part of the town watch, act as guides for travelers, and help protect nearly extinct animals. They’re respecting life and nature by tilling fields and caring for wildlife.”
Brow raised, Scaramouche crossed his arms. “And are you so naïve as to believe weeding and feeding dogs is enough to repent for murder?” Scoffing, Scaramouche jut his chin to the side. His voice was frosty enough to chill to the bone. “If you ask me, they should be shackled and served scraps for rations as they do hard manual labor.”
Tighnari stilled. He and Collei exchanged glances. Frowning, Tighnari held his chin. “Look, I don’t like them either, but they’re human beings… They should be treated as such.”
“Human…?” Scaramouche bowed his head, hat casting his face in shadow. “Hahaha, of course! Being human. It always comes back to that.”
“What?” asked Tighnari.
“Never mind. I’m done here.” Scaramouche slipped past Tighnari and Collei, bumping into them on his way out.
Scaramouche took the road leading out of the village, never looking back.
That night Scaramouche tossed and turned, unable to sleep. Whenever he closed his eyes, his mind replayed his conversation with the two forest rangers. Exhaling an angry huff, Scaramouche sat up and summoned his journal and a quill.
Researchers continue to hold unethical experiments, the sages have killed, manipulated, and committed blasphemy, and yet all they’ve gotten is a slap on the wrist. Why? Aren’t they beyond redemption? But every time I think about that, I remember the forest ranger’s words about humanity, and a question comes to mind.
If… if a sinful human should be treated humanely because they have a heart… then where does that leave a heartless puppet like me?
April 5
Sumeru City
Scaramouche sat in the Divine Tree’s branches early in the morning. Light fog obscured Yazadaha pool. Only a few people walked about on the stone pathways circling the tree. Birds slept in nests.
The branch dipped with the addition of a new weight; someone had materialized behind him. Tree creaking, they made their way beside Scaramouche and sat down. In the corner of his eye, Scaramouche could see two legs swinging over the edge.
Scaramouche heaved a long exhale. Summoning his journal, Scaramouche held it out to the side. “Here, Lesser Lord Kusanali. Consider this my report on the sages’ activity in Avidya Forest.”
Blinking, Nahida accepted the book. She gingerly flipped through the pages, pausing to read each entry. Scaramouche gazed out into the fog, his head heavy. The cold air seeped into his bones.
After a while, Nahida closed the book. Brow furrowed, Nahida wordlessly looked up at Scaramouche, gaze boring into him.
Crossing his arms, Scaramouche scoffed, “You want my thoughts and feelings? There it is. If you ask me, they should all be jailed and—”
“You don’t need to punish yourself.”
“I should be punished!” Jaw set, Scaramouche clenched his fists so tightly, his nails tore into his skin. “After all the atrocities I’ve committed, all the lives I enjoyed taking, I shouldn’t be trusted. Being locked away is the best form of atonement. That way…” Voice softening, Scaramouche gazed at his palm, now pooling with blood. “That way I couldn’t possibly make others suffer again. Heh, after all, I’m practically your prisoner already.”
“You’re right.” Eyes wide, Scaramouche looked up at Nahida. “I shouldn’t trust you. But I do anyway because that’s mercy: being compassionate towards those who don’t deserve it. Giving them a second chance. Atonement is doing enough good to outweigh the harm caused.” Nahida held a hand over her chest, eyes closed. “Mercy is like a key to a cage, setting people free from the chains of the past.”
Growing quiet, Nahida gazed at her lap. “For five hundred years, I let myself be stuck in a cage because I believed the people of my land would fare better without me. But in the end, thanks to my imprisonment, they fell victim to the sages’ experiments.” Nahida balled up her dress. “I abandoned them like leaves that fall from trees come winter. I really failed as an archon.”
Scaramouche went still. The cool, morning air brushed over his skin. Branches rustled in the wind. The sun started to rise, turning the sky a budding pink. The fog dissipated, setting the water sparkling. Birds stirred then took flight, chirping.
Scaramouche smirked down at her. “Well, since you trust me so much, let’s work towards atonement together.”
Lips parted, Nahida stared. She nodded, smiling broadly. “Let’s.” They sat together in companionable silence, watching the sun rise over the city.
I thought I was done with this journal after giving it to Lesser Lord Kusanali, but, ironically, she may have been right; writing does help me think a bit clearer. I still have no clue about what atonement or mercy really are, but if I stick with Lesser Lord Kusanali, maybe I’ll find out someday.
And that’s good enough for now.
April 6
Sumeru City
I only returned from Avidya Forest yesterday, but Lesser Lord Kusanali is already sending me out on another mission. She said something about an Interdarshan Championship? A tournament? I don’t know, I don’t care. Geez, she can be so annoyingly persistent. Really pushing my buttons here. She’s counting on me so I should go. Ugh, this sucks. Well, here we go again.
Scaramouche headed out of Sumeru City, writing his journal along the way. Avoiding the crowds, he strayed off the main road to down by the lakeshore, heels kicking up water. He looked back.
Merchants called out to passersby. Scholars roamed the streets, passionately debating topics. Laughing, kids ran along the pathways between the trees. Parents called out after them to slow down. And over it all stood the Sanctuary of Surasthana, glimmering serenely in the sunlight.
The wind billowed Scaramouche’s hair and robes. A ghost of a smile crossed his lips. He wrote another line in his journal. Then, using his anemo vision, he soared into the air.
That “someday” better come soon.
In Scaramouche’s wake, nilotpala lotus petals floated and danced in the air.