Work Text:
This is my Kokomi zine fic. Please do not redistribute. Word Count: 2000.
Kokomi blinks, unsure that she has heard correctly. The idea is absurd. Surely, Aether is joking. “I’m sorry,” she says, in that quiet and understated way of hers. “Who did you say is coming for a visit?”
Aether winces slightly, rubbing at his head. “I—Well, I thought I should be honest. He has been given the okay to visit, by the way, but—”
“I must have misheard you,” cuts in Kokomi. She sits at her desk in her hidden little office, fingers curled tightly together with primness. “Because surely you didn’t say Morax, the Geo Archon, would be accompanying you on your next trip here.”
Aether bites at his lip. He hesitates before he answers, picking his words carefully. “So, here’s the thing. The last time that you saw Guuji Yae there was some tension. The Raiden Shogun has given her blessing for Zhongli to visit, but Yae just might be less than enthused for him to be here. She might do something—”
“Oh, she will.” Kokomi says it politely, but her voice is still firm. “There isn’t a doubt. Guuji Yae is certainly the type to meddle, and with a foreign Archon making an appearance, she will not remain quiet.” She looks at him plainly, but her eyes twinkle with interest.
“Former Archon,” corrects Aether.
Kokomi’s brow furrows. “I’m sorry?”
“He’s—” Aether pauses, rubbing at his face. “Look, I just wanted to warn you. Better to be aware.”
Kokomi waits until Aether is near the entrance of her office to speak again. “I would like to meet him. Er, if you think that he would entertain the idea, at least.”
Aether chuckles at that.
#
The—apparently former— Geo Archon is not what she expects.
Kokomi isn’t exactly sure what she did, but it was not this serene gentleman that stands before her, hands folded behind his back.
“Ah,” he says quietly, his gaze contemplative as he looks around, lips quirked into a subtle smile. “Watatsumi Island surely has grown, hasn’t it? Remarkable. I remember when Orobashi created this place from the very coral off his back.”
Kokomi blinks. She thinks. She cannot comprehend what that must be like, to look at the land and remember it was like thousands of years prior.
“Kokomi Sangonomiya,” says Zhongli, turning back to her. “You are not the first I have met of your clan.”
“Then I must apologize for whatever foolishness you surely witnessed,” says Kokomi smoothly, well aware of the strange history that her family has had.
Zhongli laughs, low and full, and Kokomi is surprised by his mirth. “When did I imply that it was a bad thing? No, no—your clan is something to be admired, you know. More than once have they resisted the Raiden Shogun.”
“Foolishly, some would say.” Kokomi tilts her head to the side, interested in what his reply will be.
Zhongli watches her back, his golden-eyed gaze shrewd. “Sometimes it is a fool who has our best interest at play. Tell me, Miss Kokomi, did you think for a second that declaring war against the Raiden Shogun was a foolish measure?”
It is not the question that she expects. “I do believe that we were talking about my forefathers, my lord. Not me.”
“I am no longer a lord,” says Zhongli with a chuckle. “Only a man retired.” He presses his hand to his chin and appraises her. “And you are the one here now, Miss Kokomi, not your ancestors. I may have shared tea with them at one point in time, but they are nothing but sand on the beach now, whereas you stand here before me, strong as a stone.”
“Do you always speak in riddles?” Zhongli doesn’t answer that, which means that he does. “Fine then,” she continues. “I might be here, but I am only a humble priestess.”
“Humble priestess?” muses Zhongli. “Or wisened strategic genius wasted on the pursuits of long-dead gods?”
Kokomi’s gaze narrows. “Are you implying that our love and care for our beloved Lord Orobashi is wasted?” Because even she cannot overlook such slander.
“Of course not,” he says smoothly with well-practiced ease. It is clear that his years have aided with his negotiation skills, and he dances around spoken conflict with masterful ease. Kokomi will have to pick his brain about it later. “Perhaps, though, there are those who wear many titles—all of them worth something in the end.”
A strange thing to say coming from a once-Archon, and a now barely-mortal. He has worn more titles than anyone still alive, that is for sure.
Kokomi steps closer, her arms crossed over her chest as her posture relaxes ever so slightly. “I wonder, Mr. Zhongli, do you look at the world through rose-colored glasses?”
“Zhongli is fine, Miss Kokomi. And no, I don’t think that I do.”
“Ah, so you would say that you are old and set in your views.”
Zhongli looks at her, amused. “Yes, well, did you expect much more of a man who is rock inherent?”
No, she did not, but Kokomi grins all the same.
#
“Tell me, Mr. Zhongli, did you want to be a ruler?”
It is their second meeting, Kokomi pouring over her books while Zhongli sits before her desk, sipping quietly at a cup of tea.
“I do believe that I asked you to call me Zhongli,” he says, his expression crinkled with mirth.
Kokomi pauses as she hangs over her tome, but doesn’t look up. His gaze is unnerving, the way those golden eyes watch the world with a hawklike stare. Far too old and knowing. “Apologies,” she says with a soft sigh. “You will have to accept that I most likely will not.”
He chuckles softly. “That is agreeable, Miss Kokomi, as unnecessary as it is. Now then—ask me once more.”
Kokomi rubs at her brow, already tired of his circular reasoning. She shouldn’t be surprised. Zhongli is a man as old as dirt itself, archaic in his approach when it comes to conversation. Not to mention, he likes to make her think. It would be a lie if she didn’t delight in the highbrow commentary.
“I was only curious as to your thoughts on being a ruler. Was that something that you intended for?”
Zhongli is quiet for a very long moment, staring into his cup as he forms his words. “No,” he finally says, “I can’t say that it was something that I intended, but as the Archon War dragged on, it became apparent that there was little other choice.”
Kokomi looks up then, watching him through a narrowed gaze. She’s heard the stories, of course. Everyone knows just how Morax founded Liyue. “Little other choice?”
Zhongli meets her face then, his expression indecipherable. “I had no love for Celestia—I still don’t—nor did I strive for Archonhood. And yet…” He huffs then, a breathy sort of thing. “We, as those in charge, are the ones who bear the brunt of our people. Everything that I did was to ensure the safety of those found within my purview.”
“A contract, then,” says Kokomi, her mind whirring. “Between you and your people.”
“Perhaps the most important one that I have ever made.”
Kokomi is once again struck by how eerily similar they both are, two individuals handed heavy mantles that they never requested. And yet, they accepted them because the alternative was far worse.
“And now?” she asks him, cocking her head to the side. “You are no longer Rex Lapis, or Morax. You are only Mr. Zhongli. What kind of contracts are you keeping now?”
Zhongli smiles then. “That is the thing about it, Miss Kokomi. There are none. For the first time in my long life, I am living for myself.”
What a novelty, thinks Kokomi.
She wonders just how that might feel.
#
The third time that they meet, Zhongli blesses Kokomi with tea brewed by his very own hands, served in the finest pot she has ever laid eyes upon.
“I made this,” he confesses, pulling back his sleeve to pour out a cup. “The set, I mean.”
Kokomi holds her cup as though she might break it with the barest touch. “You do not strike me as an artist, Mr. Zhongli,” she says, bemused.
His mouth twitches. “I am not, but I was young, dabbling in the arts after the Archon War was over. I didn’t quite know what to do with myself at the time.”
“The creation of Liyue wasn’t enough to keep you on your toes?” It is a jest, but Kokomi cannot help the curiosity that tugs at her. So far, Zhongli has been forthcoming in all that she asks of him, a wealth of information into the eyes of a former Archon.
Zhongli snorts softly, sipping his tea. “Every ruler has their hobbies—gods included.” He pauses, looking at her. “Do you not?”
Of course, Kokomi does. “Reading, as you know. We’ve already shared our thoughts on military stratagem.”
“Ah yes, I seem to have forgotten.”
Kokomi isn’t so dumb to think he’s done anything of the sort. Zhongli’s recollection is second to none. He smiles at her from behind his cup, just the barest turn to his lips. “You seem ever amused when it comes to the wiles of mortals,” she says.
“Likely because it is an understanding that doesn’t come easy to me. What is the saying? To take a walk in one’s shoes? I fear that I’ve walked for quite a long time, yet still fail to grasp even the simplest things of your kind.”
Kokomi tilts her head to the side. “On the topic of that, I have a question.”
“You always have questions, Miss Sangonomiya.”
Her gaze narrows. “Kokomi, please.”
“When you regard me as the same,” he says, mirroring her expression.
As if she would. Archon or not, Zhongli is still a god. “Mr. Zhongli, ” she says stubbornly, to which he waves for her to continue. “I wish to ask you about retirement.”
“I… will admit. That is not the direction I thought that you would take this.”
“I do believe that you once said I am nothing but a bag of surprises.”
Zhongli laughs, low and deep, before pouring himself a fresh cup of tea. “Yes, well, go on then.”
“Why?” she asks him. “What is the sort of thing that drives a ruler to take a step back? You’ve been in power for thousands of years. Your people rely on you. So why?” Kokomi doesn’t mean to be rude, or for her tone to take on a biting edge.
Zhongli pauses, his mouth parting as he thinks of his next words carefully. “That is just it, though,” he finally says. “My people do not rely on me. Not anymore, not for a long time. And truly, that was the hardest thing to accept.”
He sighs wistfully, looking out at the vast landscape of Watatsumi Island. “I suppose that is the last lesson for any ruler to learn—even we, one day, will be entirely obsolete. The world is ever-changing, and we must change with it.” Zhongli hesitates, rubbing at his neck. “I will admit that I am a stubborn, old dragon. This is something that I still struggle with.”
Kokomi’s mouth settles into a thin line. She sips her tea and it is delicious. “One day, I would like some rest, but with every week that passes, I feel as though I take a step back instead of forward.”
Zhongli smiles gently, a strange-looking grin that’s more serpentine than anything else. “Might I give you some words of advice, Kokomi?” The usage of her proper name strikes a chord in her being. “Though you are a leader, you are your own person too. You would do well to remember that.”
“And just how long did it take for you to learn such a thing, Zhongli?”
He laughs then, good-natured. Zhongli doesn’t answer, of course, instead pouring a fresh cup of tea. When he holds it aloft, Kokomi happily toasts it with her own.