Work Text:
Raiden Ei doesn't believe in ghosts. How could she, when she has seen so many lives cut short by her own hands, their bodies still and lifeless and eventually becoming one with the earth? Yes, the wills of dead gods often linger, but the dead cannot be brought back to life.
She knows this for a fact. She has tried.
And so, when she sees Buer's new companion, her right-hand man, her Second Sage, she dismisses him as pure coincidence. She sees the resemblance but focuses on the differences instead: he's a man, he's shorter, his hair and eyes are a few shades off, he doesn't have that beauty mark under his right eye. He is not one to mingle, she notes as he shies away from Barbatos's enthusiastic curiosity, and she has never once seen her look so sour.
Nothing but a coincidence.
She tears her gaze away from him right as the look in his eyes goes from irritated to murderous, courtesy of Barbatos slinging an arm around his shoulder, while the Yaksha standing close to them seems to have mentally checked out a long time ago. Perhaps she should warn Buer. This is the first time the Archons are meeting in a very long time, after all, and although she wouldn't be particularly opposed to Barbatos getting the scolding he deserves, she also doesn't want it to ruin the mood.
That is assuming she can find her, of course: from her spot close to Mount Aocang's pool, much of the mountaintop is hidden by Dvalin's large body as he lounges by the shore, curiously looking down at one of the adepti – Ganyu, she believes? – when she cautiously approaches him with a smile. Ei quickly makes her way around the two, giving them a wordless nod, and almost crashes straight into Miko.
"My my," her companion says without missing a beat, "do you already miss me so much that you feel the need to jump straight into my arms?"
"Miko," she begins in a warning tone, already feeling heat creeping up her cheeks.
"Oh relax, Ei, I jest." Her words are underlined by a low chuckle and a flick of her ear. "Finally stopped staring at Lesser Lord Kusanali's new aide?"
Her blush deepens. "Was it... truly that obvious?"
Miko rolls her eyes, but the smile on her lips is soft. She takes her by the hand and leads her to a more quiet spot, closer to Cloud Retainer's abode. "As obvious as the fact that he's clearly avoiding your gaze."
"He is?"
Miko sighs. "You're as oblivious as always, I see," she says in that tone that rides the line between exasperation and fondness.
Ei hesitates for a moment, the question she's been wanting to ask sitting heavily on the tip of her tongue. She has already formed her own opinion – rather, her own truth, one that has to be correct at all costs because if it isn't, where does that leave her? And she wants to ask Miko, to confirm that truth, but what if she doesn't? What if her answer only feeds into the gnawing, sinking feeling deep in her chest? What then?
Soft hands rest on top of her own, gently loosening the iron grip she has on her kimono. She didn't even notice. "Breathe, Ei. Please, tell me what it is that's bothering you."
She looks into her violet eyes, and they both know exactly what she's about to ask. "Miko, does he... remind you of anyone?"
Her companion sighs. "Ei..."
"I know, I know, it must be a simple coincidence. It has to be. Right?"
Miko's lips press into a thin line, and her stomach sinks. "Miko?" Her voice comes out low and unsure as ice-cold doubt floods her veins.
"...There is a certain resemblance."
She's noticed it too; Ei's not seeing things after all. But then...
"But he's different," she insists.
Miko smirks, but it's a small, humorless thing. "He is, isn't he? I don't think I've ever seen Makoto look so disgusted. Although..."
"Although?"
Another sigh. She's certainly doing that a lot. "I... do recall a certain someone pulling that exact same face when a drunken Barbatos attempted to dance with you."
"Miko, no. It's not... There's just no–"
"Ei... there's no use hiding from the truth. Or do you want me to lie to you?"
"No, I... that's not–"
"He looks like the both of you, and shares quite a few of your mannerisms, Ei. Like the way you cutely scrunch up your nose when you're trying not to yell at someone. Like right now."
Ei pauses, mouth half open. She forces her face to relax. "I'm not..." She looks away, fidgeting with her sleeve. "I wasn't going to yell," she finishes quietly.
There's a few beats of silence. "I... I need a moment."
She turns sharply and leaves, unable to bear the pity plainly written on Miko's face any longer. What is she supposed to do? Who is that man? Does she even want to know? She thinks she does. There's a part of her that aches, that longs to pull him into her arms and smooth over the crease between his eyebrows. It's terrifying, and yet…
And yet she finds herself staring at him once more. Barbatos has stolen his hat and is happily dangling it above his head from his spot between the branches of a tree, like the child he is. She shakes her head at the display, at the way the Yaksha is tiredly trying to convince the god to get off…
And at the way Buer's companion takes a more direct approach.
He leaps into the air, and his Vision bursts into life. Anemo seems to flow within him, lighting up patterns on his hands, his stomach, his neck. A halo materializes behind his head as he propels himself upwards, hot on Barbatos's trail as the god takes to the skies. The air echoes with both bell-like laughter and annoyed swearing. She finds herself captivated by the display: although anemo users are often light on their feet, it's rare to see one outright fly like this.
It's right as Buer's Sage finally manages to grab his hat that she sees it. Right on the nape of his neck, glowing with anemo. A symbol.
It's complementary to the Shogun's. It's her symbol.
Makoto's.
She stumbles backwards. The backs of her knees connect with a stone bench, and she crumples on top of it, her breath caught in her lungs. That's... not possible. It's not. It's not. Is he... one of her creations? But no, she has only ever marked the Shogun and that was with her own emblem, not Makoto's. And she disposed of the prototypes, anyway. He can't…
She buries her head in her hands. No, she has to breathe. She has to control herself. No matter... No matter how…
There's someone sitting next to her. It's probably Miko, but on the off-chance that it's not she attempts to pull herself together, to bury that panicked feeling deep inside herself where it can't hurt her – for now.
But then she looks up and it comes back with a vengeance.
Buer's aide is sitting next to her. He's not looking at her, and is instead staring into the distance with an uncomfortable frown on his face. From up close, it's even more painfully obvious: the gentle tilt of his nose, his long eyelashes, his full cheeks. He looks doll-like, perfect.
He's not breathing.
They spend a few, long moments in silence. It seems like the Yaksha has called Morax for assistance, and the old god is dragging Barbatos towards the lake. Perhaps he'll dump him in to freshen him up. Wouldn't be the first time.
...She's avoiding the issue.
She dares to glance at the young man sitting next to her, but thankfully he's still looking away. Now that the glowing patterns on his body have disappeared, the emblem on his neck is no longer visible through his dark top. Perhaps she could ask him to do it again? She just... wants to confirm it…
"You've seen it, haven't you."
It takes her a moment to register the fact that he spoke. He sounds... bitter, but resigned. Like he'd rather be anywhere else than here, sitting next to her on this cold bench, but he's still forcing himself to.
She breathes. "...Yes."
The man sighs. He raises a hand to rub his eyes. "I figured."
"Who are you?"
He opens his mouth, then closes it with a snap. He grabs the edge of his hat, running his fingers along the metal edge. "I'm just a wanderer."
"And Buer's Second Sage," she adds with a raise of her eyebrow.
"...And Buer's Second Sage," he confirms quietly.
More silence. She fidgets with one of her sleeves, desperate to fill the void somehow. Unfortunately, small talk has never been her strong suit. What could she...? Oh, right, she still doesn't know his name – he had pointedly avoided saying it when Buer introduced him. "What's your name?"
He hesitates, but eventually settles on, "I don't have one." He glances at her from the corner of his eye, and she must look confused because he adds, "I've gone by many names, but none of them fit anymore."
"...I see."
More awkward silence. Perhaps she should have listened to Miko when she suggested talking to her people more, but how is she supposed to do that when they wither at the mere sight of her? Not that she can blame them, she supposes…
"I'm..."
Buer's Sage starts speaking, but closes his mouth just as quickly. She hums as an encouragement to continue and he bites his lip, pulling his hat lower on his face to hide his eyes. "There's something... I..."
His voice dies in his throat, and she notices with a start that he's shaking. Once again she feels that urge to wrap him into a hug, to whisper words of comfort until his hands stop trembling and his eyes become clearer. Is it just because she can see Makoto's ghost in him? Or is it that–
"I can't do this," he says suddenly, and then he gets up. "Forget this ever happened."
She scrambles to her feet, something like fear clinging to her heart. "No, I... How could I ever forget you?"
It's the wrong thing to say. He barks out a laugh, harsh and biting and bitter. "How indeed."
He attempts to leave, and without thinking she reaches out to wrap a hand around his wrist. He snatches it away immediately, snapping his head back to glare at her with nothing short of fury in his eyes. "Don't touch me–"
The sharp movement causes something to fall to the ground with a soft thud. She pries her eyes away from his, lowering her gaze to see something golden laying innocently in the grass. It looks almost like an elongated leaf, or maybe…
He snatches it up quickly, but the image is burned into her mind's eye. It's a feather. A golden feather.
The symbol of her own authority.
When she speaks, the words come out as barely more than a whisper. "Where did you get that?"
"I– I don't know. I just found it on the ground."
"No, you didn't," she corrects him, forcing herself to speak calmly. With that feather, the last piece has clicked into place. This is one of her creations.
(And perhaps there's another word she could use to describe him, one that would explain the protectiveness surging within her, but the concept is so... enormous and unimaginable that she forces it away.)
He's still shaking, head bowed, face hidden by his hat. His hand is clutching the feather so tightly that he likely would have started bleeding, were he human.
"You're my creation."
Slowly, he nods.
"So why can I not remember you?" She can't stop the helplessness from seeping into her tone. She remembers them clearly: the failed experiments, the tears of frustration as she disposed of every single one of them, ensuring to make them unusable and beyond repair as per Miko's suggestions. The cold, exhausted satisfaction when the Shogun had turned out so perfectly.
None of them had ever gained sentience.
"That part... isn't your fault." He says it slowly, in a choked voice, as if it pains him greatly to admit it.
"But how–"
"I–"
They both pause. He sighs, and the exhale shakes his whole body. She so desperately wants to comfort him, but she simply has no idea how to go about it. It feels like one wrong move would be all it takes to completely break this… this olive branch that he seems to be extending.
"One day," he croaks out eventually. "One day, I'll tell you."
It feels like an end. It feels like a goodbye.
She doesn't want it to be. She wants to keep him by her side, to know him.
But she knows that she can't; he’s not ready, and honestly, she probably isn’t either. So she simply smiles, fighting to keep that wave of impotence and want hidden where he can't see it. "Then I shall wait."
There's a beat of hesitation. "Just like that?" he asks in a whisper.
"Just like that. I want to know, of course, but..." She takes a deep breath. She doesn't like being vulnerable, but for him... "I have hurt... many people due to my selfishness, so I am trying to be a bit more considerate. I ache to know the truth, but... it shouldn't have to come at the cost of your comfort."
She can't see his face, but she can tell her words mean... something to him. It's in the way he pauses, in how he brings the feather close to his heart.
After a long pause, he nods. "I see," he says, and then he turns and leaves.
One day. It's not a goodbye. She'll see him again.
She watches as he joins Buer by the cliffside. She takes his hands in her own small ones. They exchange some words. And then, Buer hugs him. She thinks he'll push her away like he did with her, but instead his shoulders drop and his free hand comes to rest on her head.
Something in her is aching. She feels the powerful, irrational urge to scream.
It's such a tender scene. She should be happy he has someone who can comfort him. So why does it hurt so much?
She turns on her heel. She should tell Miko.
She only manages a few steps before she feels the need to look at him one more time. He's kneeling on the ground, his arms tightly wrapped around Buer. His shoulders are shaking.
She looks away.
One day.