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Late nights reminded Kazuha of exactly what he would never have again. Especially now, where he’s confronted with cold winds sailing on an even colder ocean. As much as he loved and looked up to Captain Beidou, she was still his captain, happily married to her wife (not that Kazuha would ever try to get with Beidou) and Kazuha would never be her first priority. Still, Kazuha would listen solemnly as Beidou would sing her wife’s praises, often in a rough shanty-like dirge. Beidou was a lover as much as she was a fighter, and this was magnified by the Shochu in her stomach.
The alcohol has a warming quality, spreading out from Kazuha’s stomach into his fingertips. If he was on land, he would feel a vertigo-like sensation, yet the swaying of the boat on the ocean masked the effect. Unlike Beidou, Kazuha did not have a positive reaction to the alcohol. It wasn’t his vice of choice, as he would often become melancholic, falling into memories as the drink fell into his glass.
He tried hard to stay present tonight, focusing on anything he could: Beidou’s raspy voice, the warm glow of the lanterns, the noise of the crew as they gambled on poker. It worked somewhat, but everything brought him back to that night. Beidou’s raspy voice morphed into her voice, the warm glow turned a crackling purple, the crew's joyous ruckus became a clamorous crowd, terrified for their lives…
Focus, Kazuha, he thought to himself. Distraction was the enemy of the warrior. As much as Kazuha marveled at the natural world around him, even a stray leaf in the wind could cost a poorly trained samurai their life. Outside of battle, it was just as bad. Distraction could lead you away from your destined path, your family, your friends…
He shook his head quickly, standing from the bar. Kazuha needed to leave. He could feel the air thicken around him, closing in like a fog. The lights magnified in brightness, taunting him with their fiery glow. Kazuha stumbled out, holding on to the wall for support.
Pushing his way through the door into the cold night air, Kazuha let go of a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He scaled the mast in a mad dash for the crow’s nest. If any of the crew noticed his antics, he knew they were too drunk to care about him. Not even if he fell. He didn’t fear falling. The knowledge that he could catch himself at any point, even when intoxicated, was a constant comfort.
He pulled himself up with the complicated rig and pulley system Beidou had set up. His fingers were numb, causing his hand to slip. Kazuha’s upper body strength was lacking, but the mastery of his vision wasn’t. Using Anemo, he boosted himself the rest of the way up, crawling over the lip of the crow’s nest.
His lungs and legs ached. The seasons were shifting to the cold and dark half of the year. As much as Kazuha liked the cold, his Anemo vision didn’t lend much to temperature resistance, like a Cryo or Pyro vision would.
“One, two, three,” he counted on his foggy exhales. Beidou told him when he gets lost in thought, he needed to ground himself. Especially when he was thinking about Tomo.
The name caused Kazuha to let out an agonizing cry. The strength of the wind carried it across the open ocean, far away from any human ears. Only the seabirds heard it, wondering what would make such an awful sound.
Kazuha bent his head down and sobbed into his hands. Emotion was a rare display and he would often only show it in the crow’s nest. No one but the stars and the seabirds were privy to Kazuha’s inner emotions.
And Beidou. Sometimes. When Kazuha was very drunk. And Beidou was very drunk. Drunk enough neither of them would remember. Most of the time. Kazuha did a lot of things while drunk that he hoped he wouldn’t remember the next day.
He usually remembered them.
Beidou forgot though. She forgot the way that Kazuha would scream and slam his fists into her chest and arms. She forgot the way he would slowly lose energy, reverting to just sobbing and shaking. She forgot the reason he would spend many nights in her cabin, calmed by the faint presence of her Electro vision.
Electro was a two sided coin for Kazuha. It was a good element on its own, strong and powerful. Yet, the use of it was tinged with awful memories. Electro was not only a spark of something sweet, but a raging maelstrom of hate and fear.
Kazuha didn’t know much about the Shogun beyond her political policies. He was never a politics guy, so he really only knew about her Vision Hunt Decree. And he really only knew about how he responded to it. At first, it was quiet terror. He could just hide. It wouldn’t be the first time he had to hide a very large and important part of himself.
Hiding the Vision itself was easy. Although Kazuha would often feel sick leaving it at home, a stomach ache and fatigue was nothing compared to actually dying. If he brought it with him, he could keep it easily concealed under his shirt.
He feared for Tomo. Tomo was reckless and proud. He hated hiding himself, hiding his Vision. Tomo wore his heart on his sleeve. It wasn’t shocking when he challenged the Shogun to a duel.
Although he should’ve known Tomo wouldn’t survive, the sight of his crumpled body on the temple steps was horrific. Kazuha had seen dead bodies before. Funerals and the occasional dead samurai weren’t uncommon. Yet, this was a body still warm.
Before he knew what he was doing, Kazuha dashed toward Tomo. He knew he couldn’t save his corpse, but he could save his Vision. Tomo would have to go without a proper burial.
Adrenaline coursed through his veins as static zipped over his skin. Kazuha ran, faster than he had ever run before. Anemo whistled around him as he leapt to heights no human had leapt to. He was on the run. No more quietly hiding in the basements of good samaritans, all of Inazuma would soon know his face. The Vision holder who stole from the Shogun. A feat not many would dare to undertake.
All for a useless Vision. Legend states that one could rekindle a Vision, if they were worthy. As Kazuha already had a Vision, he couldn’t rekindle Tomo’s.
Although he would pretend that he took the Vision to one day find someone worthy of carrying it, Kazuha knew that was a blatant lie.
Tomo was a skilled warrior and Kazuha respected him. Soon, that respect turned to friendship, and even quicker, it turned to love. Kazuha never had the chance to tell Tomo while he lived, never even told his body.
Yet, as the wind whipped around him, Kazuha quietly whispered to the Electro vision swaying from his hip.
“I loved you, Tomo.”
Although he didn’t see it, a small burst of Electro shot across the glassy surface of the Vision, a response.
I loved you too.