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The Grand Bazaar of Sumeru City thrived with its bustling market and a symphony of sounds, scents and colours. Cyno walked with practised vigilance. His sharp sunset eyes scanned the crowd for any suspicion; his Mahamatra instinct would never waver, even in leisure. He glanced at Tighnari beside him, whose sharp, fennec-like ears flicked, catching fragments of a dozen conversations at once. Cyno knew that Tighnari would be overwhelmed by loud crowds, so he picked a date and time when it would be less busy, like an attentive partner he is.
“Your ears are flicking. If it becomes too much for you, just say the word. We can step outside and find a quieter path.” Cyno suggested with a gentle tone.
Tighnari's tail gave a soft swish of amusement. “I'll be fine, Cyno. This is hardly the first bustling market we've been to.” His gaze drifted to the young woman walking ahead of them, her red hair vibrant to the Earthy tones of this atmosphere. “Besides, we promised Nilou we'd help her pick out fabric for the new costume pieces.”
Nilou walked with a dancer's effortless grace, her arms swinging slightly as she peered at the stalls. To any onlooker, she was just another young woman enjoying the market. But to Cyno and Tighnari, she was the centre of their shared world. “The fabric stalls are just at the end of this path,” she said brightly before she inhaled deeply, her eyes widening. “Oh, that smells incredible! Is that from the food market?”
Just ahead, a vendor was pulling golden-brown samosas from a deep fryer, their crispy shells glistening with oil. The smell intoxicated the three of them.
“We did promise ourselves a treat,” Tighnari said, his own stomach rumbling slightly. “And those do look exceptionally well-made.”
“Then it's settled.” Cyno declared, guiding them towards the stall. “A tactical order of fried pastries it is.”
They head to the stall where they are greeted by a cheerful woman behind it. “The famous Zubayr Theater dancer! And the General Mahamatra! And... Oh my, the Forest Watcher himself! What an honour! What can I get for you three? I personally recommend my special vegetarian samosas.” The vendor points at the triangular-shaped special samosas, catching Nilou's attention.
“I'll take one, please.” Nilou said happily. “And one more thing, do you also sell samosas without the spices? Tighnari's olfactory system is very sensitive.”
The vendor’s smile widened. “Of course, dear. One plain samosa, coming right up.” She bustled about, wrapping the pastries in wax paper.
Tighnari’s heart warmed. “You don’t have to-”
“I know,” Nilou said, her voice light. “But I want to.”
Cyno paid before either of them could protest, tucking the mora into the vendor’s palm with a quiet nod. He received the three samosas; the plain one for Tighnari, the spiced vegetarian one for himself, and then Nilou’s.
Nilou took hers with both hands. The outer shell was still hot, the heat seeping through the paper. She brought it to her lips and bit down. The first crunch was perfect. Flaky layers gave way to a warm, savoury filling. Her eyes fluttered shut in contentment.
Halfway through her pastry, her tongue registered the texture. It wasn’t the vegetables she’d expected. It was something meatier, but also softer; it was a flavour she recognised around fifteen years ago. Her heart stopped for a couple of seconds, her jaw stopped moving, and she saw a dark cap of mushroom inside the pastry she had already swallowed.
The atmosphere of the Grand Bazaar had changed. The noise, the colours, the warmth; all of it was muffled and distorted as if she was at a bottom of the well.
Mushrooms, the very food she had been avoiding for fifteen years.
No...
Back when she was in Bimarstan at seven years old...
No!
The sudden tightness in her chest, the tingly feeling in her throat, the weakness in her legs, stomach churned, her whole body shaking... The pain, the cramping, the helpless vomiting, the cold sweats that soaked her bed as her mother wept and her father ran for the healer. She drifted in and out of a feverish haze, convinced that her body was shutting down and she'd never wake up again.
“The poison had spread fast,” the doctor had said to her parents outside of her hospital room. “You caught it in time. Two more hours and she wouldn't have-”
Her vision blurred. The samosa fell from her fingers. It hit the ground, but Nilou didn’t hear it.
“Nilou?” Tighnari's voice was sharp with concern. “Nilou, what's wrong?”
She couldn’t answer. Her chest was hitching, each breath a ragged thing that refused to fill her lungs. Her skin had gone cold despite the afternoon heat. The taste was still in her mouth, that unmistakable earthy bitterness underneath the spices, and she could feel it spreading, could feel the way her body had once betrayed her, had turned against itself until she couldn’t lift her head from the pillow, couldn’t keep the water down, couldn’t-
Her knees buckled.
Cyno caught her before she could fall, lowering them both to the ground. His hands were on her upper arms, solid and grounding whilst shielding her from the crowd. “Breathe. In and out.” He commanded gently, his voice a mix of both concern and order from a General Mahamatra.
She tried. She really tried. But her body was remembering the way it had felt to be dying. The fever dreams. The way her mother’s hands had shaken. The look on her father’s face when he thought he was going to lose his daughter...
A sob tore out of her. Then another. She was crying; great, heaving cries that shook her entire frame and she couldn’t make it stop. Cyno slowly turned Nilou towards him and gives her a warm hug, his one hand at the back of her head and his other hand resting on her back. “I'm here. Let it out.” He said, his Mahamatra voice and presence trying to ground her to reality.
Tighnari's heart ached with sympathy and pain from seeing someone dear to him in this state as he carefully knelt to the ground, adding his presence along with Cyno's.
Around them, the market had gone quiet. The vendor stood frozen, her smile gone. “By the Dendro Archon, is she alright?! Was it the food? I swear, everything is fresh! I would never-”
Tighnari turned, his eyes cutting to the samosa on the ground. The broken shell had spilled its filling: a crumbly mixture with identifiable pieces of mushroom. His pupils contracted.
“What was in that pastry?” His voice was no longer calm. It was the voice he used when something in the forest had turned deadly.
The vendor flinched. “Just mushrooms and potatoes! Dried mushrooms, I soaked them overnight, they’re perfectly safe, I’ve been using them for years!”
“What kind of mushrooms?”
“Th-they're cultivated mushrooms. You can find them anywhere in Teyvat, they're perfectly safe-”
“Agaricus bisporus. Not poisonous. Perfectly edible.” Tighnari confirmed with a clinical tone. 'Which strongly suggests her reaction is psychological.'
“Should I fetch for-”
“No,” Cyno replied with a firm voice before the vendor had the chance to finish. “Give us space.”
Nilou’s eyes were squeezed shut, her lips moving soundlessly as she is crying in Cyno's arms. Tighnari was at their level, reaching out. “Nilou. I need you to open your eyes. Can you do that for me?” Tighnari asked gently, cautiously placing his hand on her shoulder to test if she would flinch.
She shook her head frantically, her face planted against Cyno's chest.
“Okay.” His thumb caresses her shoulder in a gentle rhythm. “That’s okay. You don’t have to open them. But I need you to hear me. You are not dying. You are not poisoned. The mushrooms in that pastry are called the agaricus bisporus, it is safe for consumption. Your body is reacting to a memory, not to a toxin. Do you understand?”
A whimper escaped her in response. Her whole body was trembling whilst clinging to their voices and touch like they were the anchors that prevent her from getting lost in the waves of panic.
Cyno’s arms tightened, his head resting at the top of her head to ground her further as he quietly spoke. “You are in the Grand Bazaar. I am holding you, Tighnari is behind you and his hand is on your shoulder, you are alive and you are breathing.” She could hear the low, steady murmur of Cyno’s voice, but she wasn't back in reality yet. She recognised his voice, but his words were blurred together.
Meanwhile, Tighnari's long vulpine ears picked up sounds of the crowd whispering to one another, their gazes varying from concern to a desire to gather information so they can gossip about her later. Tighnari wasn't having it. His expression shifted from gentle doctor to territorial Forest Watcher, his glare comparable to when he warned treasure hoarders not to mess with the Avidya Forest's ecosystem. It was enough to make the nearest onlookers quickly avert their gaze and disperse before his attention turned back to Nilou.
“You ate a poisonous mushroom when you were young,” Tighnari continued, his voice softening. “I read about it in your medical file when we first started… when we first became close. You were bedridden for days. Your body nearly shut down. That was trauma. A significant one. And today, a harmless mushroom triggered your body’s memory of that trauma.”
He paused, waiting. Her breathing was still ragged, but the frantic quality was beginning to ease. Her face was still planted against Cyno’s chest, but she was no longer trying to curl in on herself.
“You are safe,” Tighnari said with zero room for doubt in his voice. “I am a botanist and mycologist. I have spent my life studying fungi and the flora of Sumeru. If those mushrooms were dangerous, I would have identified the toxin by the smell alone. They are not. You are not in danger. The terror you are feeling is real, but the threat is not. Can you try to believe that?”
She didn’t answer immediately. The tears were still coming, but more slowly now, the sobs fading into wet, shuddering breaths. Her mind was still a battlefield; the rational part of her was trying to absorb Tighnari’s words like a sponge, and yet the wounded part of her soul felt trapped in a mind of a child in Bimarstan on a brink of death.
But Cyno’s heart was steady. Tighnari’s hand was warm. The ground beneath them was solid. The market noises were beginning to seep back in at the edges of her awareness: the murmur of concerned onlookers, the distant call of another vendor, the rustle of fabric as someone moved away to give them space.
“I-” Her voice cracked. She swallowed, tried again. “I tasted it. I tasted it and I knew. I thought... I thought I was going-”
“You’re not,” Cyno said against her hair. His voice was rougher than Tighnari’s, but his arms were a fortress around her. “You’re having a panic attack, but you're safe. It feels like dying, but it isn't. Your body is receiving false signals that's making you believe you are in danger, and we will wait here until it stops.”
She opened her eyes.
The light was too bright. Everything was blurred from tears. But Tighnari’s face was there, close enough that she could see this brown to jade green eyes and pale pupils, the very Earthy tones that match his role as a Forest Watcher. She then saw Cyno’s hand come up to rest on Tighnari’s shoulder as invitation for him to join in. Tighnari slowly leaned forward as she felt his embrace, along with his tail resting by her leg.
She was twenty-two years old. She was in the Grand Bazaar. She was sitting on her partner’s lap, her other partner’s hands cradling her face, and she had just fallen apart in public over a pastry.
Immediate shame had crashed into her. She tried to pull back, to scrub at her face, to somehow undo the spectacle she’d made of herself. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean... everyone is looking, I’m so sorry, I-”
“Don’t.” Cyno’s voice was quiet but absolute. He didn’t let her pull away. “Don’t apologise. Not for this.”
“We’re not moving until you’ve calmed down completely,” Tighnari added, and there was no negotiation in his tone. “The market can wait. The fabric can wait. Nothing is more important than you.”
She wanted to argue. She wanted to stand up, brush herself off, smile, and pretend that nothing had happened. That was what she did. That was what dancers did. They performed, even when they were breaking, and the show went on. But her legs wouldn’t hold her. Tighnari’s tail was still by her leg, Cyno’s arms were still around her, and neither of them looked like they were going to let her perform.
She closed her eyes again. The tears were still coming, but they were quieter now. She let herself lean into Cyno’s chest, let herself feel the rise and fall of his breathing, and tried to match it.
In. Hold. Out.
In. Hold. Out.
Slowly, the adrenaline in her system began to fade. The cold in her limbs receded, replaced by the warmth of two bodies pressed against hers. The taste of a mushroom was still there at the back of her tongue, but it was just a taste now. Nothing more.
“There you are,” Tighnari murmured. His thumb traced her shoulders one more time before he gently lifts his hand to caress her face. “You’re coming back.”
She made a somewhat self-depreciating laugh. “I’m sorry,” she said again, quieter this time. “I didn’t know it would be like that. I thought I was over it. I haven’t thought about it in years.”
“Trauma doesn’t keep a calendar,” Tighnari said gently. “It comes back when it comes back. What matters is that we were here.”
“And we’re not leaving,” Cyno added. His hand had moved to her hair now, fingers threading through. “Whenever it comes back, we’ll be here. That’s not a burden. That’s just what we do.”
Nilou let out a long, shaky breath. The trembling in her limbs had finally stopped. She felt exhausted, but in a way that was almost peaceful. Like after the final performance of a long run, when the applause had faded and the stage was dark and all that was left was the quiet. She placed her hand on top of Tighnari's hand and her other hand on Cyno's, reciprocating in the aftermath.
“The vendor,” she said suddenly, her eyes opening. “I didn’t mean to... she looked so frightened. Is she alright?”
Tighnari’s ears flicked. He glanced over his shoulder. The woman was still standing behind her stall, but she had busied herself with rearranging pastries.
“I’ll handle it,” Tighnari said. His hand met Nilou's, giving it a gentle squeeze before he rose to his feet. His legs were stiff from crouching, but he didn’t show it as he walked over to the stall.
Nilou watched him go, then let her head fall back against Cyno’s shoulder. “I ruined the afternoon.”
“You didn’t ruin anything.” Cyno replied with a factual tone. “We came to spend time together. We’re spending time together. The location is incidental.”
She huffed a weak laugh. “That’s a very pragmatic way of looking at it.”
“I’m a very pragmatic person.” He pressed a kiss to her temple. “How do you feel?”
She considered the question. The panic had receded entirely now, leaving behind a bone-deep exhaustion and a faint, lingering shame. But underneath it, there was something else. Something warm and steady that she was only beginning to recognise as trust.
“Tired,” she admitted. “Embarrassed. But…” She paused, searching for the words. “Safe. I feel safe.”
Cyno’s arms tightened around her, just for a moment. When he spoke again, his voice was softer than she’d ever heard it. “Good.”
Tighnari returned a few minutes later, a small paper bag in his hands. He crouched down beside them again, opening the bag to reveal several plain samosas, golden and steaming.
“I explained the situation,” he said. “The vendor felt terrible. She insisted on giving us these, no charge. I verified the ingredients personally. No mushrooms.”
Nilou stared at the pastries. Her stomach gave a tentative rumble—a reminder that she’d only had one bite of food in hours. The smell was the same as before, warm and savoury and inviting, and for a moment she felt the flicker of fear again.
Then Cyno’s hand gently squeezed hers, lacing their fingers together, and Tighnari picked up one of the samosas and held it out to her with an expression of such patient kindness that her eyes stung again.
“Only if you want to,” Tighnari said quietly. “There’s no pressure. We can get you something else entirely. Or we can go home. Whatever you need.”
Nilou looked at the samosa. Then at Cyno. Then at Tighnari.
She reached out and took it.
The first bite was a small nibble at the corner. The pastry was flaky, the filling a simple mix of potatoes, peas and mild spices. No mushrooms. No hidden surprises. Relieved, she took a larger bite, warmth filling her chest.
“Okay?” Cyno asked.
She nodded, chewed and swallowed. “Okay.”
Tighnari’s tail curled in quiet satisfaction. He picked up a samosa for himself, and Cyno took the last one, and the three of them sat on the dusty ground of the Grand Bazaar, eating pastries and letting the world move on around them.
Once all that's over, they decided to leave the area since the Grand Bazaar was becoming populated. Cyno was the first to get up. “Nilou. I'm going to pick you up now, is that alright?”
Nilou nodded weakly, calm but exhausted. Cyno, with an effortless motion, managed to lift her in his arms bridal style. Nilou figured that if she wasn't exhausted, she'd be feeling really embarrassed. Tighnari rose as well, stepping close to her other side as his hand found hers.
As Cyno carried her away from the stall and toward a much quieter street, it was relief. Less crowds, fewer things happening at once. She closed her eyes and she felt the steady motion of Cyno's walking and the warmth of Tighnari's hand holding hers. She wasn't alone in bed convinced that her body was shutting down. She was safe and she was loved.
“Thank you... Both of you... I feel... Safe...” She murmured, dozing off to sleep.
Cyno and Tighnari stopped walking, their hearts overwhelmed with affection. Cyno carefully pressed his lips on her forehead. “Sleep. We'll be here when you wake up.”
Tighnari's heart ached with overwhelming love for these two people, as he carefully lifted Nilou's hand and pressed a kiss to her fingers. “You're not alone anymore, you never will be again.”
They walked the rest of the way with silence, and it was thanks to the love and support from her two most important people that she can face forward with a confident smile.