Archive of Our Own

Thoma, may I have a word with you?

Frowning, Thoma pauses just a few paces down the hall. That was Ayaka. While he can’t say he expected her to be home, he also can’t say he’s surprised she is. But something about it raises the hairs on the back of his neck. It’s the tone of voice, and the fact that her door is shut, that snaps his body to attention.

Was she talking to him? Well, she had to be, right?

Taking step forward, he halts again, this time mid-stride. How did she know he was here? As common as it is to expect Ayaka to be too busy to be home, it’s just as likely that Thoma would be busy with matters of the estate. Evening chores completed still doesn’t stop him from tidying a few things up. Heck, if he can spare it, he does something for himself. With the blessing of the Kamisatos, Thoma is allowed to use any of the estate’s amenities for his own needs.

Whatever the reason - if Ayaka knows or simply guesses that he’s around - he should respond to the master of the house.

Knuckles brush the air in front of the door frame as Ayaka speaks up.

There’s something I need to discuss with you, she announces flatly. Soft, not like she’s being gentle or kind, but in the way she doesn’t want to raise any alarm. While his instinctive reply is on the tip of his tongue, the words come from the other side of the door.

What is it, milady?

Did she… just speak for him? Thoma blinks. No, pretend to be him?

Well, she hadn’t altered her voice to impersonate him exactly, but regardless. She had stolen the words right out of his mouth. And he’s not even there. Sure, he’s right here, he’s right outside her door, but the hairs on his arms tingle with suspicion. Who is she talking to, since it doesn’t seem to be him?

Milady?

The silence between Ayaka’s narration holds him captive. What’s going on? Is she acting out scenarios to practice actually talking with Thoma? He knows she’s capable of confrontation when necessary. So, is this topic something so serious that she needs to practice?

His gut lurches, and he swallows it back into place. Hundreds of reasons and scenarios pop into his head. The more ideas that pop up, the more damning they become. He can’t stop his mind racing to unrealistic places, but if she hasn’t discussed this - whatever this is - with him already, and she seems to be practicing-

Whatever it is, I’m sure we can figure-

We? Ayaka interrupts herself. Her sigh stabs a spear of ice straight through his heart. Oh Thoma… I already figured it out on my own, so you don’t have to pretend that you don’t know what’s going on.

For his part, he doesn’t have to pretend, leaning against the wall just outside Ayaka’s door. He has not a single clue as to what is going on. Or whatever he must’ve done to warrant this practice roleplay scolding.

I’m sorry, milady, she acts for Thoma again, but I sincerely have no clue what you’re talking about. I want to be honest with you- I am honest with you, but… You’re wrong, I have no clue what’s going on. If I did, I’m sure I can explain everything.

There’s a shuffle as Thoma assumes Ayaka paces around her room. The imagery flashes into his mind of him actually standing there, Ayaka prowling around him, eyes sharp and knowing. A chill runs down his spine. Neither he nor Pretend Thoma have any clue what Ayaka knows, and the hint of accusation pins him to the wall.

A drawer opens slowly, and closes gently. Fabric rustles. Is she showing him some clothing? His mind flinches at the sheer possibility of disrespecting her privacy, let alone making a mistake with her laundry. It’s a chore he prides himself on for his modesty, discretion, and respect.

What did I do?

Ayaka is not a vain person. Nor is she petty, especially not to the degree she’s portraying. This is a genuine mistake. Thoma messed something up. Badly. And he has no clue what it is.

Then explain this, Thoma, Ayaka continues barely above her breath, revealing whatever clothing she took out. A soft flutter, as it’s opened to reveal its form. Whatever it is.

The silence in the wake is painful, and Thoma isn’t even participating in this conversation.

He would never intentionally do something to inconvenience - much less disrespect - Ayaka. Or anyone for that matter, but being in the Kamisato estate, where he is in charge of- no, trusted, with the Kamisato’s personal belongings, figures this is an issue between them personally.

This was folded perfectly. I, of course, would expect nothing less of you. Perfectly clean-

Thoma processes what he can in the bouts of tense nothingness.

- perfectly folded-

Her words, her tone, somehow this wasn’t what she was expecting?

- appearing perfectly untouched.

Ayaka must be seeing Thoma in her mind’s eye doing exactly as he is just outside her door. Tense. Calculating. Maybe even sweating. Just a little. Maybe.

She must’ve sensed the confusion of real or imaginary Thoma, as she draws in deep breath.

When I brought this home, as soon as I had stepped into my room, you rushed in to summon me. It was urgent - it was about the Shogun and her new announcement. Thinking back, Thoma vaguely remembers the instance she’s recalling, though she adds her perspective- I always appreciate the earnesty and the seriousness that you take with me and such matters, and I don’t fault you for what happened then.

Then… Ayaka sighs, much in the same way he does when he’s trying to solve a problem, what is this all about? Milady, please, I want to be of good service to you, always, but…

Even the punched out sigh copies itself from behind the door. As Ayaka plays his role, she nails the most perfect timings, down to the very mannerisms of his voice.

What I’m failing to understand is where the issue is. Or, even, what you seem to be accusing me of, Ayaka portrays, including the tight hesitation in accusing her of accusing him. The frustration of misunderstanding clashing with esteem and respect to not doubt her.

The matter at hand, at the time, her side of the story continues, was indeed intensely urgent. It was compounded on the fact that you burst in just as I was putting this away. While you saw my haste to address the situation, it was intentional for you to miss my haste to…

Well, helpful. She was purposely trying to hide something? So how could he have known about whatever it is? And what does this have anything to do with how well he performed his duties?

To store this, she jumps back on track, though her footing seems the slightest hint unsure. To store this- ahem- quickly, so that no one would notice it. I had shoved it into this drawer without any thought, other than to keep anyone - well, you - from seeing it.

So why did you show it to me now, if you didn’t want anyone to know about it?

Thoma’s thoughts exactly.

Shoving it into the drawer, I had left it crumpled up as it was, Ayaka shakes her head. That much Thoma can tell from knowing her for so long. So the fact I found it so perfectly, meticulously folded, means that-

Milady, she interrupts herself again, I thought- I didn’t think anything of it. Well, maybe that I figured you hadn’t been able to fold it properly yourself, but that’s why I have this job. If you would like this to be kept especially silent, I am more than capable of doing so.

The pause this time leaves Thoma with no information, and Ayaka doesn’t want to give any. Pretend Thoma continues.

Mi- Ay- Ayaka- and this time her voice breaks character at the strangeness. He doesn’t blame her. Saying her own name as Thoma would say it, begging her to understand and clear up misunderstanding, would be strange. Ayaka, I already keep everything relating to my housekeeping duties strictly confidential!

This is true, though Thoma has never voiced this out loud. A sigh pulls relief from his chest. Strange. He never thought it would feel refreshing to finally have some of his thoughts vocalized. Nevermind the fact that it’s Ayaka voicing them for him. Though it adds a sense of understanding if she imagines that Thoma would say exactly what he values without him actually having to say it.

Nothing, and I mean nothing, she emphasizes, and Thoma feels his body lean into the act outside the door. He would step closer to her, meet her eyes, and communicate with this mouth and his heart, Nothing leaves this estate. Whether it’s passing gossip, casual or serious conversation, living habits, attire, routine- None of it, okay?

His throat bobs, tightening while listening to Ayaka play his role. He feels it for himself, begging with her to understand just how serious and sincere he is. Because whether she’s drawing on her knowledge, experience, or even just assumption of Thoma, it’s true.

She stands in the silence somewhere beyond the closed door. He stands in anticipation, pressed to the wall with not a thought in his mind other than to soothe Ayaka’s worries.

Whatever this mock conversation is about, she’s concerned about it. She’s tense, she’s assertive, she’s taking control and holding her position. Cool-headed and chilling the air around her. His heart throbs around the shard of ice in his chest again. What can he do to help? How can he make this better?

But then, what does Ayaka want him to do? What is she imagining that he would do?

The scene so far has felt realistic beyond the point of imagination, everything accurate down to the very situation she’s describing. No; Thoma doesn’t remember folding an item of clothing that was so hurriedly shoved away into a drawer. However, a majority of his mind is spending all of his consciousness on paying attention to Ayaka’s words; memories of mundane chores slip through the cracks anyway, let alone one specific case.

Miladay, Ayaka sighs again as Thoma would if he was trying to reason with her. Ayaka.

Thoma-

You have to know that I would do anything for you, right? Ayaka’s narration interrupts her role again. I am your devoted servant. Nothing more than a simple housekeeper, but nothing less than your loyal friend.

The realization of how Ayaka sees him helps start to melt the ice. While perhaps someone else saying this about him would sound demeaning or self-depreciating, there’s a different tone to it right now. Maybe it’s because it’s Ayaka, or simply her voice. Maybe it’s because it properly reflects his humility and how he would be acting.

Or maybe it’s because he’s been so invested - dragged along lost and confused but anticipating the next sentence - that he’s letting Ayaka not only dictate his words, but his thoughts and actions.

Anything you need of me, milady, I will do my utmost to serve you and the Kamisato Clan.

The pause is brief but an eternity at the same time.

Anything?

The soft lilt of Ayaka’s voice stops his breath in his throat. He realizes that he’s utterly grateful for being on the outside of the door and not actually face to face with her. Not that he would shy away from confrontation; especially not when there’s a problem to be solved, let alone a misunderstanding he caused.

Will you be honest with me, then?

Of course, and Thoma feels it like he’s in a dream, a puppeteer moving his body outside of himself, making him witness everything from his subconsciousness.

He’d be stepping even closer to Ayaka, or welcoming her closer. Maybe gently holding her arms to show that his focus is entirely on her. A perfect fantasy would have her in his arms, holding her so gently but so firmly, protecting her, cherishing her-

What- um… what do you think of it?

A few sputtered noises - Thoma assumes it must be Ayaka’s attempt at conveying his shock. His own hand clamps over his mouth before the chuckle of endearment in his throat erupts and alerts Ayaka to his eavesdropping.

What do I- What do I think of- Well, what about it? Thoma’s smile burns behind his hand at Ayaka’s acting of his embarrassment. I, uhhh. Well, the quality is superb, that much is certain, but…

But, what? Ayaka prompts.

But… I thought you were upset that I knew about it. I mean, I hope that you trusted me as a housekeeper up until now- and still do! But earlier you said you were hiding it even from me.

Ayaka takes in a breath, but catches herself, tripping over her own tongue. A few noises squeak past her lips, and Thoma catches each of them from outside her room. It takes a few extra moments for her to sort out her words.

I greatly appreciate your sincerity and discretion, her tone slots back into professional seriousness, because I am intending on keeping this private. This will only be between you and me.

Again, he finds the situation strange yet hauntingly familiar; not actually being in the room but feeling as if he’s personally sharing this intimacy with Ayaka. In a way, he is.

A twitch in his gut reminds him that this eavesdropping has gone way too far in reality. What if she were to catch him? What new scenario would really unfold if Ayaka caught him listening to her practicing confronting him about this issue?

His own imagination starts playing a role without warning. Behind his eyelids, Ayaka presses herself to his chest, her words repeating only be between you and me. Her eyes punctuating her statement as she gazes between his face and his chest. As if she can see his heart respond to her prodding.

I… haven’t been fully honest with you yet, Ayaka’s reserved tone snaps him back to attention, his ears turning back on. He clears his throat. Imaginary Ayaka separates themselves in his daydream, and at this point assumes that Ayaka visualizes the same thing.

I was… I wanted to have a word with you about this because… and he waits on baited breath to hear the revolutionary twist that has been the crux of this storytelling all along. She takes a steadying breath.

It’s- for you.

The momentum built up in his nerves and his mind collides with a solid - and quite rude - wall.

It’s a bit unfair. Well, he shouldn’t have been listening anyway, so it’s really not unfair for him not to know what this surprise punishment-turned-gift is. And it’s probably fair that he doesn’t know since it’s apparently supposed to be a surprise.

His arms cross tightly over his chest defiantly anyway. In part, to ground all his wild nerves back to the present, and in part, to express his petty frustration anyway, even if it’s just to himself.

The drawer opens again swiftly, and closes with a pronounced thud.

His mind doesn’t even have time to process what to make of the sounds behind the door, before the door itself opens.

A yelp and a shout explode between them, Ayaka pressing a hand to her chest and Thoma raising his hands in surrender.

Ay-ayaka! he sputters. Suddenly, it’s like his body has forgotten how to be himself, hands hovering by his head, then his hips, then crossing under his arms again, as if they forgot where they go.

As if his body got too comfortable with the idea - or even the possibility - of Ayaka commanding them herself. Puppeteering his limbs and words in her vocalized imagination from her room, and he was helpless to the motions as they controlled him.

You were listening. She speaks reality into existence.

Yet her eyes… The internal commentary - once hidden behind a door, now hidden behind her eyes - Thoma can hear loud and clear.

You were doing more than just listening.

He can’t speak. Fitting, but also frightening. How deep did his mind submerge into the fantasy with her that he can’t speak his own words anymore?

I, uh… We- he makes a valiant effort, but Ayaka’s eyes seem to be reading her own story- no, reading him.

Still, he tries, We don’t have to talk about it. We don’t- well, you uh, said it yourself? You said- I said that nothing leaves the estate, an-and I… It won’t even leave my lips, I promise. I promise.

Her eyes. When were they so clear? When were they so bright? Was it her eyes that shot the ice through his heart, striking fear to remind him of just how much he shouldn’t have been here shouldn’t have done this-

You’re right, Ayaka agrees with finality. It releases the immediate fear strangling his neck and chest, though the burn of guilt remains.

I… what? About what? He catches up to the present now that her eyes aren’t locked on him. She sweeps back into her room, this time with the door wide open. He’s expected to follow.

This doesn’t leave the estate.

The drawer opens and closes with a sense of urgency, something that apparently should sound like deja vu. What does sound like deja vu is fabric falling open as Ayaka reveals the surprise garment, shielding her embarrassment with it as she holds it in front of her face, closer to Thoma’s level.

What do you think of it?

Discretion, privacy, intimacy - yeah all of it makes a lot more sense now.

A simple maid outfit. In the style of Mondstadt’s customary maid uniform. Black and white. The only frill to the attire was, well, the frills at the hems of the apron and the apron’s straps.

Unlike customary maid uniforms, however, this one is meant to be used to serve in a… more intimate way. Hardly anyone would actually wear this to perform housekeeping duties in Mondstadt, let alone anyone in Inazuma. He mentally removes the well-respected actual-Mondstadt-maid Noelle from the list; that doesn’t count. Not like this.

Ayaka must’ve been holding up the dress for ages while he stared blankly, the least Thoma can do is take it from her. His hands lift the dress from her tense pinch. His eyes run over the dress without any thought. Better than letting his gaze catch Ayaka’s, who will most definitely read him in less than a heartbeat.

If she even could make anything of his tangled thoughts would be an entirely different story.

‘What do you think of it?’

‘It’s- for you.’

Ayaka? Thoma breathes out. Her eyes still don’t quite meet him even as he looks for any help.

What did you mean by it’s for me?

That’s when he gets to watch, without having to assume or imagine for himself, as her face darkens into flushed red hues. However, Imaginary Thoma keeps trying to show him Imaginary Ayaka; face just as flushed, tucking her head against the frills on her shoulder, fingering the hem of the apron-

For… for you, she repeats, as if it elaborated her point.

But the split second that her eyes connect with his searching gaze, it strikes him with a feeling like Electro instead of sharp Cryo, sparking his already volatile nerves. While his mind still can’t quite put the words together, his body falls again under Ayaka’s spell.

The flush in his own face combusts like a whole-body Pyro reaction. Her eyes continue to apply the Electro feeling all up and down and along every inch of his body. It’s like he’s Overloaded, or maybe Melting? Both; it feels like he’s exploding from Overload and slumping from Melting.

When her cool hands cup his burning cheeks, it’s all he can do from accidentally activating his Vision and setting both of them on fire. Ayaka’s lips form a soft hush before pressing the tiniest ounce of Cryo to his jaw. A kiss. He’s already well aware of Ayaka’s discipline, so her incredible and specific control over her Vision isn’t what surprises him.

A gasp leaves his mouth. Fingers gently slide down his jaw, shoulders, chest, eyes following to steal a glance further down. His own hands - tense and sweaty and shaky and unsure - rest on Ayaka’s upper arms. It doesn’t stop her hands settling on his hips. It doesn’t stop the shiver of anticipation racing up and down his spine. It doesn’t stop his skin feeling like it’s reacting to Cryo, Pyro, and Electro all at the same exact time.

Anything…

It doesn’t feel like his voice at first. But when Ayaka looks up to him, he figures he must’ve repeated what he heard earlier. He commits to it.

Anything, milady, Thoma swallows back as many nerves as he can, but his body doesn’t feel like it’s in his control anymore. As if he really had any control to begin with. Any- anything you need of me.

Her gaze skips back through the story she played out, lips twisting into a sly smile once she rereads her scene.

So, if I asked you to… she tests the waters for both of them, you would wear this?

All he can do is nod.

You would wear this for me, and… serve me?

It’s too much even when nothing has really happened. It doesn’t matter when or how he lost himself. What matters is that he surrenders to Ayaka. And if it’s Ayaka, then he figures he’s safe. And not only safe, but rather willing. Wanting. Wanting Ayaka.

And apparently that’s not a new thought to him even though his mind only reveals it to him now. Pulled straight from his subconscious to veil his thoughts in Ayaka.

As you wish, milady, Thoma mindlessly affirms.

He wants Ayaka. He wants Ayaka to tell him what to do. He needs her to. He needs her to craft her stories and have him play his role in them. He would follow her to the ends of the earth no matter what, so maybe he can trust following her in this new territory.

Refreshingly cool hands pet his face again, holding his head, brushing a hair over his ear.

Thoma, Ayaka calls to him. She’s right in front of him. But her call echoes in the space between them before he hears it, Thoma? Come back.

’M here, the mumble tumbles from his mouth. He didn’t mean to, but it looks like it must’ve hit Ayaka on the way out, as tiny lines pull her brows and lips tight.

I… I don’t think you are.

Well, if she says he isn’t, then he must not be.

His body is moved backwards slowly, carefully, and when his legs meet the end of the bed, his body is commanded to sit. His eyes take in all that he can of Ayaka’s every movement, of her very presence, of all the signs and commands she gives so he can listen. He’s here - well, he’s here for her, that much he can figure out.

His back is on the mattress, and his shoes fall to the floor. His skin turns cool under Cryo energy. His hands are magnets that loosely search for connecting points to Ayaka. She’s standing beside the bed, over him, the lines in her face still holding her expression tight.

No, no, no. No lines in Ayaka’s face. He needs to smooth them out, clean them up, warm her up and do anything she needs or wants for the lines to go away.

Can we talk when you come back? she breathes onto him like a divine wind from Celestia. Only once you come back, and you’re… Thoma, again.

I’m not- Thoma? Is he playing a different role? Not that he’s unable to, more just that he didn’t realize he was, or that he was supposed to.

Her head shakes side to side, pale blue hair tossed in the disturbance. Beautiful. That’s a thought that’s always been there but he never saw until now.

I’m going to- but Ayaka catches herself. Her gaze bounces around the room, searching for answers, before settling back to his face. I think I need to give you some space.

While Thoma’s consciousness is foggy at best, his mind is still sharp as ever, enough to reach out and grab Ayaka’s wrist. She hadn’t even turned away yet but he- his mind figured it out and reacted.

Please, milady. Ayaka, he pleads, not quite how Ayaka acted it out earlier, not quite himself; more lost and desperate than Thoma usually is, you don’t need to do anything. I’m here, so- whatever it is, I can do it.

It’s her words that feel colder this time.

Then rest.

Something hangs in the air after her words as she stands, so she clarifies, piercing through the fog.

Thoma, you need to rest, and- and bring yourself back, okay? I want you to come find me after… After you can think for yourself again.

Commands, that’s easy enough. Acceptance rolls behind his eyes as he nods against the pillow. Rest. Step one, rest, so he curls into the bed and follows his own breathing. The door opens and closes, and the soft light in the room goes out.

---

The skies over the sea and between the islands are still shockingly purple. To Thoma, it almost hurts to realize he couldn’t use his own senses. Shaking his head, he closes his eyes and focuses on the last wisps of fog in the corners of his mind.

Ayaka.

Snapping his eyes open, Thoma directs himself to consciously look along the path he’s walking. He was determined to find something before coming back. Having a direction helps, and having a goal of his own volition feels like a lifeline.

A few friendly faces smile and wave as he joins the street. It might still take a minute for his ears to hear his name clearly. Especially when the distracting rush of memories is so loud. That has been the hardest hurdle to clear, and he can’t quite sort out his thoughts about them, let alone his feelings. It’s like he knows what happened, but from outside of himself.

At some point, he became the Pretend Thoma he was imagining, listening to her voice tell a story so strange and exciting. Can’t think about it too hard yet, though. Despite all the memories, what confuses him even more were the thoughts and feelings he discovered simmering in his subconscious.

They don’t surprise him, really. The evidence is all right there, even from an outsider’s standpoint. He’s just confused on how he didn’t realize it sooner. Or, actually, it’s something else.

Pausing along the beach, Thoma’s eyes are pointed at the sand as he searches his mind. Why did he only see these obvious feelings when he was so deep under the waves of fog and numbness? There isn’t any reason to believe he was in denial all this time, but what was it about falling under that spell that let it all spill out?

Feet dip into the sand. Gritty, but fluid. A soft shushing noise. He gently prods it around, making vague curves on the beach.

Maybe this is a mystery for later. One foot in front of the other.

---

Right as he takes the pot off the stove, a door opens and light steps shuffle closer. They stop just out of sight of the kitchen, and Thoma feels the twinge in his gut again. Very real, very present. He decides to leave the pot of boiling crab to the side - it could stand to cool for a few minutes more - and leave the side ensembles unassembled. With a quick wash of his hands, Thoma intentionally finds the person just out of reach.

Shy in the shadows, Ayaka acts as if Thoma isn’t there as he approaches. It doesn’t hurt him - it actually relieves him - but he doesn’t want Ayaka to bear anymore unnecessary restraint for his sake.

Hey, Ayaka? he invites the two into conversation. I- thank you. Thank you for waiting for me and… well, for looking out for me.

There’s a slight shift in her posture, a few degrees of warmth and familiarity in her eyes, but Ayaka is still frozen in a defensive shell.

I made dinner, if you want to join me?

It’s all but a heartbeat before he catches himself.

I want you to have some dinner with me, if you can, he clarifies. It’ll be ready as you sit down, and- we can talk. I’d- I’d like to talk to you, with you, and I think over dinner will help.

With the slightest motion, Ayaka accepts, and follows him back towards the kitchen. Sounds of cooking and dishes fill the space between them. And as he predicted, once Ayaka has settled into her seat with her tea, Thoma is serving their plates.

I am really sorry, Ayaka, Thoma begins.

They both take their first bites, but Thoma can already see the question on Ayaka’s lips.

I’m sorry for getting us into that situation. Even if I had no clue what that was, I should’ve been more careful and honest. And I absolutely must apologize for eavesdropping in the first place.

I was… I’m still not sure what to feel about it, Ayaka confesses.

That’s okay.

Ayaka lets a smile lighten her face a bit, setting down her chopsticks.

But, I want to figure it out. I want us to figure it out, and hesitation draws her gaze away for a moment before she adds, together.

Humming around a bite of crab, Thoma nods.

I would like that too, milady.