Chapter Text
“Will that be all, sir?”
The man nodded as the waiter placed a cup in front of him. This wasn’t his first time in Port Ormos, of course, but he had never bothered stopping by this cafe before. Lesser Lord Kusanali had sent him here on another meaningless quest to “broaden his horizons”, so he figured he might as well take the time to enjoy some good coffee.
He never completely understood her intentions when it came to these types of assignments.
“This lecture might be of interest to you.”
“Care for a walk around the Akademiya?”
“Perhaps you should go borrow this book,” she would say.
Even if all this was to make his life “more fulfilling” or something along those lines, there was no need to go to such lengths. His value as a pawn wouldn’t be affected by gaining a few acquaintances among the bumbling idiots of the Akademiya.
But that was simply how the wise deity always acted. It shouldn’t have been a surprise when she immediately seized the opportunity to have him officially registered in a Darshan.
He let out a sigh after taking a sip of his coffee. Coincidentally, a couple of scholars were passing by, with golden symbols adorning their uniform. Vahumana. To think he would have to graduate alongside people like them under the name “Hat Guy”.
Well, life in Sumeru wasn’t all that bad anyways. It was certainly a vast improvement over his previous way of life… although the bar was not high, to put it lightly.
Having finished his drink, he abruptly stood up to quickly stop that train of thought. He wasn’t in the mood to brood over his past existence as the Balladeer today.
Since the sun was starting to set and he had nothing better to do until tomorrow, he decided to go back to the hotel he was staying at for the evening. In fact, it would be best to hurry before one of those Vahumana scholars recognized “Hat Guy” and tried to approach him. Some of them – the ones who were interested in Inazuman history, for the most – had already tried talking to him about some essays he had written on a whim. Unfortunately for them, he was never one for conversation, and those encounters probably didn’t unfold the way they must have hoped.
Port Ormos was always a bustling harbor, even this late into the evening. The long-term residents consisted mostly of traders or laborers, but countless visitors were constantly passing through.
“Ugh, my cargo was supposed to arrive ages ago.” A merchant from Liyue standing near the docks, tapping his foot.
“Delicious food! Freshly made and served!” Shop vendors scurrying for their livelihoods.
“Dad, I think a creepy-crawly went into the cooking pot!”
“Captain, isn’t there something I can help with on the ship?”
They were all comparable to small animals, gathering food and making their nests. Truly, simple creatures didn’t need much to be fulfilled.
The Wanderer picked up the pace, trying to ignore the countless conversations being had around him.
“Hey, we all deserve a break for today! I mean it.” A loud woman wearing an eyepatch sprung her arm around the shoulders of someone who seemed to be a subordinate, laughing her heart out. Regrettably, drunkards weren’t hard to find at this hour. “Learn to relax a little,” she continued. “That kid Kazuha gets it! Don’t know where he’s wandered off to this time, but I hope he’s not getting drunk somewhere.”
The mention of an Inazuman name almost made him slow down. Nowadays, it wasn’t that rare for people from Inazuma to come overseas, so it shouldn’t have caught his attention. But that name in particular reminded him of a short conversation he had had with a certain traveler. Probably because of his connections to the Raiden Gokaden, she mentioned the name Kaedehara Kazuha. Apparently, she had already crossed paths with the descendant of the Kaedehara clan, even before she departed for Inazuma. And that little… floating thing who was always next to her was quick to gush about how “nice and calm” he was. The traveler had said that he was an Anemo Vision holder, which was somewhat intriguing. Not that it mattered that much: to the puppet abandoned by a god, the idea of divine favor wasn’t something he was very preoccupied by. Even so… Knowing that he had something in common with this Kaedehara Kazuha piqued his interest, to say the least.
But that was nothing compared to what the traveler spoke of next. It was no secret to him that she had crossed blades with the Raiden Shogun, although he hadn’t been entirely informed on how things had played out. In a critical moment, the Shogun had almost struck the traveler with her lethal sword art. It was Kaedehara Kazuha who prevented her from doing so, taking on the Musou no Hitotachi and even managing to push her back. When the traveler told him about this, he couldn’t contain his laughter. Oh, how he would have loved to see the look on that God’s face after her blade was parried by a mere mortal! He wouldn’t mind hearing all about it from Kaedehara himself.
Though if they did come to meet, Kaedehara would most likely stab his blade through his chest.
The man stifled a chuckle as he held the edge of his hat.
That day would come. He had no intention of running from his sins.
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After a short walk and a lift from the elevator, he arrived at Shapur Hotel. The only thing on his mind now was getting his hands on a room key, as he paced towards the reception desk. Thankfully, there only seemed to be one person in front of him.
“Rozan! There you are!” Upon approaching, he could see that the innkeeper had left her desk and was holding up a cat while thanking a young man. “I can’t believe you found him so quickly. You must be a real cat whisperer!”
“Oh, it was nothing,” the man’s voice replied.
The Wanderer froze in place.
“I’m glad I could be of help. I must say, your cat has quite the adventurous spirit.”
Before he realized it, he was staring at the stranger’s back.
Stranger? No…
“I found him in an odd place. Near the docks, there was a…“
That silhouette. That manner of speech.
It reminded him of the scent of coal smoke, the scent of earth and fire rolled together. The sounds of metal being hammered, and the crackling of the fire.
His surroundings became slightly blurry. He couldn’t hear the end of the conversation.
What are they saying? He’s turning around. What is he going to say?
“Kabukimono-“
“Excuse me, are you alright?”
“…”
For a few seconds, he struggled to pull himself together. Somehow, feelings he hadn’t been able to vividly recall in centuries had resurfaced in an instant.
The man in front of him was looking at him with concerned eyes. He had the attire of an Inazuman samurai, with a red scarf and maple leaves adorning his haori. His hair was tied back, a little on the side, and its shade of white only emphasized a singular crimson streak…
“I don’t want to intrude, but it seemed like you were staring at me,” his soft voice continued. “Is there anything I can do for you?”
The Wanderer tried his best to conceal his face beneath his hat as a shaky breath escaped him.
“…It’s nothing.”
He quickly turned around and started walking toward the nearby bridge, seeking to regain his composure. He wasn’t prepared for this. How could he have expected this? A descendant of the Raiden Gokaden, of the Kaedehara clan – because it was clear that that was who he was, – was in Port Ormos. And for some ironic reason that could almost make him laugh, he bore a striking resemblance to a distant ancestor from over four hundred years ago. How?
Overwhelmed by these thoughts, he hadn’t noticed the sound of footsteps following him.
“Pardon me,” said the man, catching up to him, “But are you also from Inazuma?”
The Wanderer stopped in his tracks and let out a quiet sigh. He didn’t reply, but slightly turned around, letting him speak.
“I’ve been traveling for a while, you see, so it’s not every day that I meet someone from my homeland,” he went on.
It didn’t matter how this situation came to be, nor how unexpected it was. One thing was obvious: he now had to take care of the task he thought needed to be entrusted to the traveler. He had to tell this man the truth about the decline of his clan, and about the history he erased with his own hands. Surely, that would wipe that friendly smile off his face.
“Are you perhaps here to board a ship back home, or have you just arrived?” The samurai asked, unbothered by the lack of visible response.
“…I haven’t been there in a long time,” he answered flatly.
“Ah, a fellow drifter?”
“I guess you could say that.”
“I must say, that only intrigues me more. My name is Kaedehara Kazuha. I’m currently traveling with a fleet from Liyue, and they’ll be stopping here for a couple of days.”
Although he was already certain of his identity, he had to stop himself from flinching at the name.
This was it. He would simply say what needed to be said and accept whatever was to come out of it. The Raiden Gokaden incident, the loss of his family’s fortune, the heartache that must have been inflicted on several generations – everything was the direct result of his actions.
As he faced Kaedehara Kazuha, a thousand different words came to mind, none of which seemed like the beginning of a sentence.
So, he said nothing, and ended up quietly staring at him instead. Kaedehara gave him a questioning look in response. It was only then that the Wanderer noticed the blood red color of his eyes. Despite the plain small talk, there was something in his gaze that felt hard to decipher. It made the Wanderer want to avoid it.
While he was pretending to look back at the ocean instead, Kaedehara spoke again.
“I hadn’t seen Port Ormos from this high up before. This view is wonderful.”
“There are better spots,” the Wanderer replied without thinking.
He didn’t know why he was letting these meaningless pleasantries go on. There was only one thing that needed to be discussed between them, yet he struggled to find a good place to begin.
“I take it you’re quite familiar with this place?” Kaedehara asked. “Actually, I was just about to join our Captain at a restaurant we agreed to meet at. If you aren’t busy at the moment, maybe you could show me the way, and we could share some drinks.”
“…Where is it?”
“I believe it’s called Djafar Tavern. Have you been there before?”
“Yes. It’s not bad, I guess.”
The Wanderer still refused to look at him. At this rate, Kaedehara was going to leave, and he would lose his opportunity to have a proper talk with him.
“It’s pretty easy to find, but I’ll take you there,” he finally said.
Kaedehara smiled. “You have my thanks.”
This wasn’t a bad turn of events. He would accompany Kaedehara through the port and look for the right moment to tell him everything. But before that, for a reason he couldn’t explain, he wanted to observe this man for a little longer.
As they took the scenic route down to the docks, the samurai commented on all sorts of pointless things. The shape of the waves, the sounds of local music, or the scent of spices on the breeze… Yet it seemed like these musings came to him naturally, unlike the common way humans discuss the weather just because they can’t stand silence. In any case, the Wanderer didn’t find it particularly irritating, occasionally adding a few thoughts of his own.
“So, how long have you been staying in Sumeru?” Kaedehara eventually asked. He wasn’t bothering to hide his curiosity, it would appear.
“Almost a year,” he replied, refusing to elaborate on the fact that he was effectively a prisoner.
“I see. It must have been a breath of fresh air. The lush forests here are nothing like what you could see in Inazuma…”
“Well, I had been to other places before coming here anyways.”
“Oh, really? How fascinating,” He smiled to himself. “I also have a great passion for traveling.”
The Wanderer stayed silent. In his decades of working with the Fatui, he had seen most of the seven nations thanks to the countless missions he had been sent on. However, he would be hard-pressed to associate them with leisurely “traveling”.
“What made you leave Inazuma? If you don’t mind my asking, of course.”
“…There was nothing left for me there.”
Although it was nothing but a vague answer, Kaedehara seemed lost in thought upon hearing it. From the start, the Wanderer didn’t quite understand why the man was showing so much interest in him, nor why he asked to walk together like this. If anything, he should be the one trying to learn about the story of the descendant of the Kaedehara clan.
“What about you?” He tentatively turned the question back to him.
“I suppose I could say the same,” he chuckled. “Since leaving a few years ago, I’ve mostly been sailing with the Crux Fleet of Liyue, even though I go visiting places on my own from time to time.”
The Wanderer had assumed that anyone related to the Raiden Gokaden was residing in Inazuma. He never would have thought that one of them would be living the life of a ronin.
But if Kaedehara Kazuha no longer had any responsibilities to tend to in Inazuma, he could easily guess the reason why.
Because of what I did…
“By the way,” Kaedehara began, “Earlier, it looked like you recognized me, which is why I approached you. Do you happen to know me?”
Yes. And you ought to know what I did.
He stopped walking, and briefly looked away.
“I…”
But how could he even begin to explain? He had been alive for centuries, had irreversibly altered his family’s fate, and had even erased any trace of his own involvement while trying to fix everything… Would Kaedehara even believe all of that? Is a bustling market street the best place to talk about how he forcibly changed history and everyone’s memory of it?
“I heard you parried the Raiden Shogun’s Musou no Hitotachi.”
“Oh? I’m surprised that so many people seem to know about that.”
Yes, this was the best course of action. This was not the time to discuss the changes in Irminsul, nor was it the right place to receive whatever punishment Kaedehara would deem fit. Besides, they were quickly approaching their destination. It would be better to continue to make cordial conversation and let the traveler tell him the truth the next time she meets up with him. Since they were friends, it wouldn’t take long for that day to come.
“It made headlines, even in foreign newspapers,” he pointed out, omitting the fact that he had searched the Steambird archives shortly after hearing the story from Paimon.
“That was quite a while ago,” Kaedehara smiled bashfully. “I can’t say I enjoyed being in the public eye after that.”
“I was just having trouble imagining what type of person would dare try to do something like that. Let alone succeed.”
“I don’t remember having the time to think,” he laughed. “And well, I was trying to save a dear friend… Honestly, I was just as surprised as the Shogun and everyone else when it worked.”
“She was surprised, huh?” the Wanderer blurted out, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically.
“Haha, did you also have some… dissatisfactions with her? I can tell.”
The Wanderer was taken aback at the sudden question. His “dissatisfactions” with his creator came from a different place than those in the Vision Hunt Decree’s resistance group. In fact, as a member of the Fatui at that time, he had only helped further its enactment and the chaos it spread. He doubted that his new acquaintance would be very pleased to hear about that.
“It’s difficult for me to view the Gods’ actions as reasonable.”
“I see… Oh, is that the tavern?”
Kaedehara stopped at Djafar Tavern’s sign, which they could see at the end of the street. It was already pitch dark. The Wanderer sighed to himself, a little frustrated that their conversation had to be interrupted.
“That’s the place,” he said, tilting his hat as he began to turn around. “Have a nice evening.”
“Wait! I thought you were going to join us.” Kaedehara stopped him. “In exchange for walking me here…”
“It was nothing. And I have other things to attend to now.”
While that wasn’t exactly true, he simply wasn’t in a situation where he could casually share drinks with the descendant of the Kaedehara clan. Nevertheless, he didn’t expect the look of disappointment on the other’s face.
“Would you mind telling me your name, at least?”
“…There’s no need. We won’t meet again.”
He didn’t need to add that last lie, but he was too focused on trying to cut the conversation short. When he briefly looked back at Kaedehara, he was met with a more than skeptical expression. His sharpened gaze seemed to see through everything, as if trying to hide something was meaningless.
“That’s a shame. Goodbye, then,” he plainly replied.
Somewhat shaken, the Wanderer left without looking back.
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The entire conference was utterly boring and useless. It was nothing but the ramblings of idiots trying to delude themselves into thinking their deductions were facts. He didn’t know what Lesser Lord Kusanali was thinking when she sent him all the way to Port Ormos for such a waste of time.
The fact that the events of the previous evening were still fresh in his mind didn’t help him concentrate. Could she have planned this? No, there was no way she could have known, even with her abilities.
When strolling through the port, his eyes played tricks on him. Any red piece of fabric he could see in the distance was somewhat alerting.
For the moment, he wanted to get out of the packed streets in order to clear his mind a little.
The harbor was a pretty touristic place, so any comfortable spot which offered nice scenery would always be taken. But there were some vantages above the port that were rather difficult to access. Of course, it was no feat to him, so he had once easily found himself a place in the shade, far from all the noise and crowd.
After slipping through a backstreet, he climbed onto some enormous roots from behind the shops, and used them to walk up to a cliff above the port. From there, there was a clear view of the lighthouse and a few trees.
As he was brushing off bits of moss from his clothes, he heard an unusual, soft sound. It was a short melody that didn’t quite resemble birdsong.
The Wanderer almost cursed under his breath when he saw who was sitting at the foot of the tree.
“We meet again. In a rather secluded place.” Kaedehara smiled, holding a lightly folded leaf.
What a joke.
“I was just leaving,” he replied curtly.
“Don’t you think it’s interesting that you went to all these lengths to avoid me, and we still ended up meeting here of all places?” the man mused. “This did not happen by chance. Perhaps fate has brought us together again.”
“That’s ridiculous. And I wasn’t avoiding you specifically.”
“Oh? If you were simply looking for some quiet, please join me. This shade brings great peace of mind.”
The Wanderer sighed in defeat and finally sat down next to him, although keeping an appropriate distance.
Kaedehara discarded his leaf flute, letting the breeze carry it away. It appeared he was acutely aware of everything around him, as well as extremely skilled at reading people. It was no wonder the Wanderer’s strange behavior had not gone unnoticed.
Not wanting to stare at him, the Wanderer shifted his gaze toward Kaedehara’s belongings on the ground beside him. A flask, a few pages of what looked like poetry, and a blade… He stopped at the sight of the blade. It was of a blood red color and looked remarkably sharp. It had clearly been skilfully forged, but it was the forging technique that had piqued the Wanderer’s interest. There was no mistaking it…
“Has my blade caught your attention?” Kaedehara suddenly interrupted his train of thought, a curious look in his eyes.
A little startled, the Wanderer looked away.
“It’s well-crafted.”
Only when he spoke those words did he realize what they insinuated, and he could almost feel Kaedehara’s curiosity grow even bigger.
“You’re acquainted with the art of forging? What a coincidence,” he said, lifting the blade to let him examine it closer. “I come from a family of bladesmiths, and I’ve been studying this old technique…”
The Wanderer nodded. He knew it well.
“The Isshin art,” he stated in a quiet voice, keeping his eyes on the weapon.
“You… know of it?”
“...Complete harmony between the blade and the bearer’s mind. The blade conveys the wielder’s feelings and becomes an extension of their will.”
He had been taught this centuries ago. But it still rolled off the tongue as if he were standing in front of that forging table again, listening intently to Niwa’s every word.
Kaedehara’s eyes widened in surprise, and though this was hardly the time, the Wanderer felt a certain satisfaction in seeing his ever-calm demeanor falter.
“This is unexpected,” he replied. “There aren’t many people who are very knowledgeable about it, as it’s an art that almost disappeared.”
There was no turning back this time. The fact that they had shared a few leisurely conversations was already ridiculous. He had tried to run away and leave it for later, but if fate had brought him right back in front of the man he wronged in so many ways, then so be it. This time, everything would be brought to light.
“If I may ask, where did you learn about it?” Kaedehara questioned hesitantly, having probably noticed the other’s complicated expression.
The Wanderer took a deep breath.
“I studied it… around four hundred years ago.”
There was a moment of silence before he looked up again, seeking some kind of reaction. But the samurai didn’t appear confused at all.
“You aren’t surprised?”
“Hm… I can’t say that I am,” he said. “From the moment we met, I sensed the essence of a complex being coming from you. Of one that has lived for longer than most mortals.”
“What?”
“Haha, I’m simply attuned to the sounds of nature. I hear the words of the wind and the whispers of the leaves, just as I hear things in other people,” Kaedehara explained, setting his blade aside so as to remove anything between them. “So too do I see you have something to tell me. There was no need to hide it.”
The Wanderer stared at him, dumbfounded. He had realized that the man was quite sharp, but that explanation left him a little surprised.
“…Alright then, that only makes things easier. I do have something to tell you.”
“Then by all means,” he smiled. “Honestly, I’m extremely curious.”
There was no need to linger over the details. He had to make this clear and quick.
“I was the one who sabotaged the Raiden Gokaden and caused its downfall.”
This time, it was Kaedehara who gave him a perplexed look.
“…No, that can’t be,” he started, shaking his head. “A couple years ago, I investigated that matter personally. We had found that it was due to a killing spree committed by a vengeful blacksmith from the Hyakume Clan. The culprit died. There was no mistaking it…”
“That’s probably what you remember finding,” the Wanderer sighed, “But it’s all a false memory. A lie.”
He maintained eye contact with Kaedehara, checking that he still had his full attention.
“Listen. My existence has been erased from Irminsul – the flow of all the information and memories of this world. If you had figured out the truth as you say, you would have found that it was all my… Kunikuzushi’s doing. It’s just that you don’t remember it.”
“But… I have a detailed letter with–”
“They were all modified to exclude my existence,” he interrupted. “That’s how it works. But I was the one who tampered with the diagrams. I attacked the bladesmiths and plotted the entire decline of the forging industry.”
From the fake diagrams to the smiths’ forced exile in Snezhnaya, the Wanderer clarified everything with details only the perpetrator could know of. Though he had struggled to begin earlier, the words started spilling out.
Kaedehara brought a hand to his forehead, taking some time to process what he had been told.
“That… sounds impossible. You mean to say history can be altered?”
“Don’t believe me?”
“No. You’re not lying,” he replied with certainty. “Please excuse me, it’s just a lot to take in…”
“I have no reason to lie about this,” the Wanderer huffed.
He didn’t think a human could accept a truth that contradicted their own memories so easily. Yet, thankfully, it didn’t seem like Kaedehara would need much convincing.
“But that begs a completely different question. If I am to believe you, you have committed many grave crimes and now have the chance to live on without anyone being able to link you to them.” He faced him again, narrowing his eyes. “Why are you telling me this? What could you possibly have to gain?”
“You deserved to know. That’s all.”
“Are you remorseful?”
The Wanderer couldn’t help but lower his hat.
“I just told you that your clan’s demise was entirely due to my actions.” He got up from the grass and stood in front him. Any sunlight that had been shining on the samurai through the leaves was now blocked by his shadow. “Tell me, Kaedehara Kazuha. What are you going to do about it?”
He read a firm determination in the crimson eyes looking back up at him. Perhaps it was finally time to receive the hatred he deserved.
Kaedehara stood up as well, taking the Isshin blade from the ground.
“I’d like to request a duel.”
“A duel? Haha, how noble,” the Wanderer scoffed. “Call it whatever you like. It doesn’t change anything.”
He watched as the other calmly readied his weapon.
“Does that mean you accept?”
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Kaedehara Kazuha’s fighting style was a sight to behold. He struck at the speed of blinding gales, and with the precision and poise of a seasoned warrior. Even though the Wanderer had the ability to fly, Kaedehara’s adept use of his Anemo vision kept him from falling behind. He made use of the surrounding terrain, propulsing himself with gusts of wind before striking down on his opponent with considerable force.
The Wanderer didn’t need to fight seriously against a human, but he was nevertheless impressed by the way the other predicted his every move and acted accordingly. The few blades of wind he had sent were perfectly dodged and did little to slow him down. They led each other on, each trying to catch the other by surprise, like a dance to the sound of blades cutting through the wind. Kaedehara’s techniques, though seemingly self-taught for the most, were without a doubt born from studying the Isshin art. At the speed at which they were fighting, the sight of that red streak of hair made the Wanderer catch a glimpse of a ghost from a bygone past.
He thought for a second of how fitting it would be for him to meet his end in this way. It was truly exhilarating.
The wind was picking up. Parrying a first attack and leaping upwards to avoid the next, Kaedehara managed to reach the same height as his airborne adversary, but his blade missed his neck by mere millimeters. In that moment, time seemed to slow down as the Wanderer witnessed the dark crimson of Kaedehara’s eyes, now devoid of their carefree glimmer. It was then that he realized the samurai was holding back. Why would he persistently aim to miss his body with such concentration? Was this just a joke to him?
This wasn’t enough. The Wanderer went limp, purposefully letting the other pin him against a nearby tree. Before he knew it, the scarlet blade was lunging towards his face at an unthinkable speed–
Until it pierced through the tree’s trunk to the left of his head.
He opened his eyes only to see Kaedehara with a vaguely pensive expression.
“Why did you stop fighting?” he asked the Wanderer, keeping his bandaged hand on the hilt.
“Heh. I should be the one asking you why you aren’t trying to kill me.”
“I don’t want to kill you.”
“Don’t kid yourself. This isn’t the time to act like some all-forgiving moralist.”
“But it’s true,” Kaedehara insisted. “My grandfather once told me… ‘A Kaedehara blade must not cause harm.’ And I think I have a duty to honor that.”
“Your grandfather,” he glared, as he mockingly tilted his jaw against the edge of the blade, “And his children, must have suffered quite a bit watching his family’s fortunes all crumble down. Maybe you were also there to see it?”
“...Even so, I will not hurt you. This is also something I have decided myself, regardless of my family’s values.”
The Wanderer could feel the anger bubbling up inside him. What was this fool going on about? He still had that infuriatingly calm look on his face, as if he, the one responsible for generations of pain and the near disappearance of their family craft, was just a casual sparring partner.
“Are you insane?” He stared at him in disbelief, taking a step forward. “Look at you… You’re clearly destitute, wandering around with anyone who will give you shelter. You should hate me with every fiber of your being!”
“You do not know me well enough to say that.”
“Then why did you want to duel in the first place?”
Kaedehara paused at the question, and let go of his weapon that was stuck in the tree.
“I wished to understand you better. Your movements were precise and graceful, yet I sensed a certain desperation in the breeze…”
“…Again with that nonsense.” Sighing, the Wanderer turned away and stopped to view the port, while he heard Kaedehara retrieve and sheathe his blade behind him. “If you’re such a saint then, what are you going to do about this? Let me walk free and pretend nothing ever happened?”
“I appreciate your willingness to reveal the truth,” he replied, joining his side. “But I must admit, I don’t quite comprehend the circumstances of your story.”
“I already told you what I did. There’s nothing else to say.”
“Hm…”
Kaedehara crossed his arms, deep in thought.
“I’ve been informed that the Crux Fleet will be staying here another week or so,” he finally said, staring off toward the sea. “As such, I’ve decided to go visit Sumeru City while I can.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“If nothing is keeping you here, would you accompany me there?”