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Xichun should be livid. Fuming til the point where smoke cartoonishly flies from both ears. No matter how much her elder sister’s forked tongue tries to spin it around, she won the evaluation fair and square. Even if there’s a kernel of truth to her words…even if she didn’t earn her winning coins…even if many hands literally carried her to the seat of the throne.
And yet, she finds herself frustratingly excited about going to “school.” She thinks back to her childhood, watching children of lesser houses make their way to school with eyes stinging with envious tears. They looked so happy and carefree only having to watch their backs for a friend who was lagging behind instead of assassins emerging from the shadows. Xichun also recalls stupidly asking her big brother for a lunch box despite having no one to share it with and not even fully understanding how it functions. But…she was happy and he was happy and that was good enough for the both of them.
Still…did she have to be taught by this ragtag group of morons?
However, to her surprise, it takes just a few classes to drop the notion of her brother’s friends being “morons.”
Two of them are especially brilliant and would have other Wings begging them to join their ranks. Yi Sang is much more emotionally intelligent which is preferable over Faust’s roboticism.
Don Quixote has a wealth of historical knowledge for obvious reasons, which she presents in such an engaging fashion. Her old tutors, while kind, would never let her play a game of trivia. For the rest of the day, she wears that prized Fixer badge as a hallmark of pride.
Ishmael and Rodya somehow manage to teach Xichun valuable lessons with childish, but admittedly fun games. Meanwhile, Gregor's lessons have the exact opposite tone, but hearing his stories adds oil to her desire to make Hongyuan a safer place.
She didn’t believe she could learn anything new about "surviving Hongyuan” from her brother, but his surprises keep mounting. Xichun also enjoys the fact that she actually means something to him again.
Outis and Heathcliff can both be brutes, but there is value in the knowledge that they pass on. Maybe under Outis’ tutelage she can become as good at verbal sparring as Yuanchun.
Ryoshu and Meursault are both enigmas to her, but if the sword wielding woman can soothe the fragile heart of a small child, then she couldn’t be that bad. Meursault’s introduction was rather amusing too.
A couple more days later, she feels quite comfortable referring to Sinclair as her first “bestie.” But also a rival of course.
The midterm sparring matches provide a good opportunity to show her worth to the temporary heads of the other families. Not only her battle prowess, but a side that goes beyond that stuttering little girl from before. A Hierarch that wishes to swim against the currents that are Hongyuan's traditions. She knows she can't completely change their minds with an exchange of just a few words, but their shift in expressions and silence that follows is deafening. The only person she doesn’t seem to make any leeway with is Xue Pan whose mind underwent too many “fixes” to see much reasoning in anything. Sneering, he reminds her that the easiest way to gain power is through fear and that she will always have to spend her life cowering from death (more than usual anyway).
He wasn’t exactly wrong, but she won’t and will never become the type that rules with bloody footprints in her wake. Yet. his rambling manages to plant seeds of self doubt in her mind.
After classes, she sits in solitude at a pavillon, surrounded by the glittering pond and half blooming trees, moral plunged into the deep end.
“Young Xichun, thy appear to be troubled. Say to me what it is and we can settle it posthaste!”
She instantly recognizes that chipper voice. Don Quixote looks as bright as ever with that twinkle in her eyes, standing at the entrance of the narrow bridge that connects the pavilion to land. So bright that Xichun winces in her presence. Or maybe it’s the archaic way of speaking that feels oddly grating to her ears right now. Normally, her words spirits her away to a tale of honorable knights.
Xichun’s eyes narrow in her direction which makes Don Quixote look the other way with a bashful expression. “Just speak normally like you did before. Right now, I don’t have the patience to decipher what you’re saying.”
That certainly was a sight, watching some airhead transforming into a fearsome bloodfiend. Once a perfect member to add to her declining clan and now someone whom she shares a blossoming friendship with. Xichun isn’t sure how they managed to bring her back to her ditzy self, but this alternative isn’t too bad.
“W-whatever does thou mean, Lady Xichun?” Don Quixote questions with a nervous look.
Arms folded against her chest, Xichun takes one small but intimidating step forward. Don Quixote leaps back with a funny sounding squeak. Xichun can’t suppress her snort.
“Ok, I’ll start over then,” she relents with a sigh.
That’s more like it.
Xichun feels an odd flutter in her heart when Don Quixote chooses to sit closely by her side. A flutter that morphs into a wave when her thigh brushes against hers.
”What’s wrong?”
Her deeper voice doesn’t exactly pair well with her still bubbly appearance, but Xichun is pretty fond of it. The tone goes down easily like a cup of warm tea. The more sincere glint in her eyes adds an additional pleasant flavor.
Her chest rises and falls with a sigh, eyes squeezing shut in frustration. “Been thinking about how I’m going to be living my life in fear of every flickering shadow.”
“Ah, but it seems like that’s been the norm for you and many others here,” Don Quixote responds quietly with a solemn expression.
“Well, you’re not wrong, but now this target on my back is much larger. Also….my death would have actual meaning now. Who else in Dagauyuan shares the same ideas as I do?”
If she were to die, Yuanchun would return to sink her fangs into the land, poisoning it with her twisted morals. She would only benefit the extremely rich, lining up their already full pockets with more gold. Everyone else would suffer with the crushing weight of preparing for the Family Hierarch War for years to come. Backstreet dwellers would fret over their declining rooms until there’s nothing left except the cold hard ground beneath their broken bodies.
“While I do understand your fears, you’re not exactly defenseless are you? You have powerful guards at your beck and call. Besides, you yourself have grown stronger already both mentally and physically,” Don Quixote replies with a familiar grin.
Ah, it’s been a while since she received a compliment outside of class and from someone who isn’t Wei. She feels that warm fuzzy feeling embracing her once more as she shyly stares at her dangling feet.
“...Think I could take you on in a sparring match? A-as you are right now. Not your - other self,” Xichun adds on with an air of caution, being unsure if her bloodfiendness is a touchy subject or not.
Don Quixote huffs in amusement. “You certainly wouldn’t be an easy opponent, that's for sure.”
“ Hmph, well of course I wouldn’t!” Xichun scoffs, raising her nose high up in the air. But her small bout of pride quickly deflates. “Still…the Heishou aren’t able to watch my back 24/7. Not even Wei has that kind of ability. The safest option for me would be to remain in my residence like some damsel in an ivory tower. Sorta like what my brother did.”
“But that’s not the path you wish to take, right?” Don Quixote asks with raised eyebrows.
“Of course not,” Xichun sharply replies. “But I can’t see the future. Maybe there will be a day where the constant anxiety turns me into a reclusive person. Or someone who is quick to lash out of fear. Who knows…”
She stares at her hands so small and nails so neatly polished. Will there be a day where the red on her nails is someone’s blood again? Would they label her a tyrant in the making for it?
Out of nowhere, a clumsy hand lands on hers and swiftly withdraws once her attention is back on Don Quixote.
“S-sorry. Your mind was wandering away a bit,” she explains looking somewhat embarrassed. “I was saying the fact that you’re already considering these possibilities could make you wary of them becoming true in the first place.”
Xichun’s gaze falls back to her hand and the brief contact it had with another. “Ah…you do have a good point.”
“Besides…locking yourself away in seclusion isn’t the happiest way to live. I think back to my own adventures with a beaming smile on my face.”
But Don Quixote certainly wasn’t beaming. She looks so… lost like she just stumbled inside a maze. Xichun fiddles with her fingers. She has a strong feeling that any words of comfort from her would feel like a bandaid slapped across a large open wound, but it’s worth a shot.
“And you'll have many more!” Xichun shouts with confidence, standing up so rapidly that she nearly stumbles over. “The kind where you’re gallivanting in the sun to rescue the innocent. Yeah those kinds of tales are written all over your face.”
“Ah, so is this your subtle way of saying you wish for me to swoop in and rescue you one day?” Don Quixote questions with a cheeky grin leaning towards Xichun’s reddening face.
She’s picturing it now. The clip-clop of horse hooves on the grass with Don Quixote as its rider. Dressed in a western prince’s garb, reaching out for her hand with a dazzling smile.
Stammering, she folds her arms against her chest once more. “D-don’t get t-too cocky! Did you forget that you’ll be leaving soon anyway? Can’t do much swooping in if you’re in a completely different district.”
“True. The powers that be will take me away from this place eventually. Even so…I hope I am someone you can rely on until that day comes. Not just for protection, but to be by your side as a dear friend, Young Xichun.”
Even with that slip up at the end, her face dons another bright flush. “Y-you already are, so keep smiling for me, ok?”
“Hehe, alright,” Don Quixote beams before an awkward look crosses her face. “Sorry, I was supposed to be the one comforting you. I didn’t mean to - “
“Don’t worry about it,” Xichun interjects with a wave of her hand. “Airing it out helped a lot. Thanks for that.”
After more words of reassurance that she’s fine now, Don Quixote offers to escort her back to her residence which she happily accepts. This is about as close as she’ll ever get to that brief fantasy.
“Sleep well, Young Xichun,” she says with a small and yet merry wave.
Once the door is closed, she rushes to her bedroom and squints at the mirror to examine just how red her face is. Luckily, Wei isn’t around for he would mistake it as a sudden fever, fanning her embarrassment.
She also notices a single large petal caught in her hair. She peels it off to better examine it. It’s pastel pink which would clash horrible with that oblivion shade of yellow. Elegant, which isn’t a word Xichun would use to describe her. More like bombastic.
But it’s soft just like her. Equally pleasant. Brings that same smile to her face. A sudden idea comes to mind and Xichun is off to gather supplies she hasn’t used since childhood.
“Make haste, Young Xichun. Your next lesson cometh soon.”
It was another hour filled with thrilling tales of Fixers of the past and trivia. Xichun has won so much Fixer memorabilia at this point, she’s at a loss of where to put it all. Not that she is short on storage, but she couldn’t just place them anywhere .
Right now she stands bone straight hiding something behind her back. She shuffles almost comedically closer to Don Quixote, feeling just as flustered as yesterday. Instead of another reminder, she waits patiently for what Xichun has to say with that adoringly sweet smile.
“Oh um yeah I know, I just wanted to - ugh here.”
Held in her hand, Xichun presents her the same petal that made a temporary home out of her hair. It’s now the center piece for a sparkling silver charm.
“N-now don’t you dare fasten it to your clothes. It’s not like your Fixer merch that you like to wear into a battlefield. Though I was going to get Wei to paint a small Fixer symbol on it. Place it somewhere…special.”
Please.
Don Quixote’s stunned silence stretches on longer than Xichun likes. Then right when she’s about to take the presumably rejected gift away, it becomes lightly sandwiched between Xichun’s palm and hers.
“Thank you…I will treasure it for the remaining years of my long life,” Don Quixote says in the tenderest voice that makes her heart melt on the spot.
The heat radiating from their hands swims upward onto Xichun’s face. After assuring the fragile gift is secured in Don Quixote’s hand, she hurries off without a word. Xichun buries her face into her wide sleeves, feeling like some teenager who just confessed to their crush.