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By the time Lumine and Paimon left the noise of Inazuma City behind, the afternoon had begun to soften toward evening.
They followed the path into Chinju Forest, where blue light pooled beneath ancient trees and tiny lamps glowed among the roots. Paimon was still discussing which city food stall deserved a second visit when a flash of red near the first torii gate caught Lumine's attention.
Childe stood alone beside the path, staring into the trees with the alert patience of a hunter waiting for something to reveal itself.
He turned before she called his name.
His eyes found her immediately.
"Comrade!"
The surprise in his voice was quickly overtaken by unmistakable pleasure.
"Of all the people I expected to find in Chinju forest," Lumine said, "you were not one of them."
Paimon flew forward and pointed at him. "You're still in Inazuma? And why do you look like you're waiting to fight a tree?"
"Not a tree," Childe said gravely. "The Great Mujina Youkai."
Lumine stared at him.
Paimon stared harder.
"The what?"
He laughed. "I was looking for an onikabuto to bring home to Teucer when I saw a child running toward a monster camp. I dealt with the monsters, of course. Then the boy brought me here and introduced me to the others."
"And now you're hunting a youkai with them?" Lumine asked.
"I've been appointed their Anti-Mujina Specialist."
He said it with enough pride that it might have been an official Fatui rank.
Somehow, all roads in Childe's life eventually led back to either combat or children. Sometimes both.
Voices carried through the trees before Lumine could answer. Children called to one another somewhere deeper in the forest, followed by a familiar bright laugh.
"They're just ahead," Childe said. "Yoimiya is keeping them from charging into every suspicious patch of grass they see."
"Yoimiya?" Lumine repeated, brightening.
Childe gestured toward the path.
"Come see for yourself."
They found Yoimiya beneath the trees, surrounded by three children who were arguing excitedly over the last known location of the Great Mujina Youkai. She looked up when they approached and immediately waved.
"Traveler! Paimon! Perfect timing!"
The children rushed to explain everything at once. The Great Mujina Youkai had enormous claws, or perhaps no claws at all. It could become invisible. It had left tracks near the stream, although one child accused another of making those tracks with a stick.
Through all of it, Childe listened with solemn concentration.
Lumine had seen him face gods and monsters with the same expression.
That should not have made her want to smile as much as it did.
While Childe followed the children toward a suspicious rustling in the bushes, Yoimiya touched Lumine lightly on the arm and drew her a few steps aside.
Her voice dropped. "I know who he is."
Lumine glanced toward Childe.
He had crouched beside one of the children and was inspecting a set of tracks that very clearly belonged to a fox.
"A Fatui Harbinger," Yoimiya continued. "I thought you might be worried."
"Should I be?" Lumine asked, genuinely curious.
"I don't think so. He saved one of the children before he knew any of us. And you should have seen how seriously he took it when they asked for his help."
As if summoned by the observation, Childe glanced back.
His attention settled on Lumine.
He smiled.
"He's been very kind to them," Yoimiya said.
"He has younger siblings," Lumine replied.
"I know! He told me about Teucer. And Tonia and Anthon too."
Lumine's gaze returned to Childe.
He told her about all of them.
For one strange moment, Lumine felt faintly irritated that Yoimiya knew those names.
The feeling made no sense. Yoimiya was her friend, and Teucer was not a secret. Neither were Tonia or Anthon. Given enough time, Childe would probably tell a complete stranger Teucer's preferred breakfast and Tonia's latest letter while pretending this constituted normal diplomatic conversation.
Still, the knowledge that Yoimiya had already heard those names left something small and unpleasant beneath Lumine's ribs.
"Traveler!" one of the children called. "We need another specialist!"
Childe's grin widened. "Looks like you've been recruited, comrade."
Lumine folded her arms. "I don't remember volunteering."
"Neither did I. It's best not to resist."
Yoimiya laughed beside her andChilde laughed with her.
Lumine looked away.
For the next hour, she was perfectly pleasant. She knew because she was working very hard at it.
Childe noticed.
Of course he did.
He caught up with her while Yoimiya and the children hurried ahead toward the stream.
"Something wrong, comrade?"
"No."
"You sure?"
"Yes."
He walked beside her for several steps.
"You're quiet."
"I'm often quiet."
"Not like this."
Lumine stopped.
Childe stopped too.
"Like what?"
There was the smallest hesitation.
A sensible man might have retreated.
Childe smiled.
"Dangerously quiet."
She resumed walking. "Then perhaps you should keep your distance."
"Now where's the fun in that?"
She refused to answer.
Ahead of them, Yoimiya called something over her shoulder. Childe answered, easy and familiar. Lumine's mouth tightened before she could stop it.
Beside her, Childe went silent.
She glanced at him.
He was looking at her strangely.
Then, very slowly, something like recognition appeared in his eyes.
Lumine did not like it. Not at all.
"What?"
"Nothing."
His smile had become unbearable.
She narrowed her eyes at him.
"I didn't say anything."
"Your face did."
His grin widened.
And Lumine suddenly remembered a shrine, an invitation to dinner, and a Fatui Harbinger asking far too many questions about the Yashiro Commissioner. Back then, she had found his interest irritatingly obvious. Standing here now, watching him smile at Yoimiya and feeling that same sharp little pull beneath her ribs, the memory returned with humiliating clarity.
Oh.
So this was what that had felt like.
Oh No.
She looked away so quickly that Childe laughed.
"Don't."
"Still haven't said anything."
"Keep it that way."
For once, Childe had the good sense to let the matter drop.
Several days later, Lumine returned to Chinju Forest.
She told herself it was because the path was peaceful.
Paimon weakened the excuse considerably by spending the entire walk wondering aloud whether the Anti-Mujina Specialist would still be on duty.
The children were nowhere to be seen. Instead, two familiar voices drifted from behind the trees near the forest entrance.
Lumine slowed.
The day's search had ended hours ago, and the children had gone safely home with their parents. Only Childe and Yoimiya remained beneath the fading light.
"The children had fun," Yoimiya was saying. "Their parents were very grateful to our famous Anti-Mujina Specialist."
"A shame it was over," Childe replied. "I was beginning to enjoy the title."
"You can put it on your next official report."
"I'm sure my colleagues would be impressed."
Yoimiya laughed, then pointed toward the parcel tucked beneath his arm. "And you're certain you have enough for everyone?"
"An onikabuto for Teucer, something pretty for Tonia, and something Anthon can pretend is too childish for him before keeping it anyway."
"Good! You can't travel all the way to Inazuma and return empty-handed."
"My ship will be here in a few days. I think you've finally stopped me from forgetting anything."
A few days.
The words landed more heavily than they should have.
Childe was leaving. That troubled her more than she wanted to admit. Worse, she had learned about it by overhearing him tell Yoimiya, as though his departure were something everyone else might know before she did.
It was easier to blame the sharp pull beneath her ribs on that. Easier than wondering why the sight of him standing so comfortably beside Yoimiya had bothered her even before she heard the news.
It did.
Her steps faltered.
Childe looked up.
Once again, his eyes found her immediately.
"Comrade."
Yoimiya turned and beamed. "Traveler! We were just talking about you."
"You were?" Lumine looked at Childe.
"Nothing incriminating," he said.
"That isn't reassuring."
"It wasn't supposed to be."
Yoimiya looked between them with an expression far too knowing for Lumine's comfort. Then she pressed her hands together.
"I should get back to Naganohara before my father wonders whether the Great Mujina Youkai carried me away. Childe, don't forget what we discussed."
For the first time since Lumine arrived, Childe looked almost sheepish.
"I won't."
"Good." Yoimiya's smile brightened. "Have fun!"
Yoimiya turned to Paimon. "Want to come with me? My father is testing a new festival snack, and we need an official first taster."
Paimon's eyes widened. "Why didn't you say that first?"
She looked back at Lumine, visibly torn for all of half a second. Lumine gave her a small nod.
"Save some for us," she said.
Paimon promised nothing before hurrying away beside Yoimiya.
Silence settled beneath the trees.
When Paimon had vanished beyond the gate, Childe shifted the parcel beneath his arm.
"I was heading toward Amakane Island." He paused, too deliberate to be casual. "Come with me?"
She should have asked why.
Instead she said, "Fine."
His smile was immediate.
Amakane Island glowed at dusk.
Lanterns hung between the trees and along the wooden stalls, painting warm circles over the paths. The festival grounds were quieter than they became during celebrations, but a handful of merchants still sold food, games, ornaments, and charms to visitors crossing from the city.
Childe led Lumine between the lanterns as though he knew exactly where he was going.
"You've been here before," she said.
"Once or twice."
"With Yoimiya?"
The question escaped before she could stop it.
Childe looked at her.
Lumine kept her attention fixed on a stall displaying painted masks.
"She helped me choose the gifts," he said. "I would have bought Teucer three onikabuto and called it a successful trip."
"He probably would have agreed."
"Exactly. Tonia would have been less forgiving."
"How long did you spend choosing them?"
Childe glanced sideways at her. "Interested in my shopping habits now?"
"Concerned for the merchants."
"How thoughtful."
Lumine's mouth curved despite herself.
"You know," Childe continued, "if you're going to interrogate me, you should at least look at me."
"I'm not interrogating you."
"Professional curiosity?"
She finally turned her head.
A teasing glint had entered his eyes.
Lumine rolled hers.
"Careful," she said. "I know where to find the Yashiro Commissioner if I need better company."
His smile froze for half a heartbeat.
"You fight dirty, comrade."
Lumine laughed.
Childe watched her for a moment, and something in his expression warmed.
Then his gaze shifted to her hair.
Earlier that afternoon, a vendor in the city had convinced Lumine to try a narrow braided ribbon dyed in pale violet and deep red, with a tiny sakura-shaped bead worked into one end. She had tied it beside her usual ornament and promptly forgotten about it.
"That's new."
Lumine touched the ribbon automatically. "This?"
"Mm."
"I bought it earlier."
He stepped closer.
Not enough to touch her. Enough that his gaze could follow the small braid where it disappeared into her hair.
"It suits you."
Lumine blinked.
Childe had already started walking again, but when he glanced back, he caught her staring.
"What?"
"Nothing." She turned toward the stall crowded with painted masks before he could see the warmth rising into her face. "Let's go there."
His grin returned. "Trying to escape, comrade?"
"Are you coming or not?"
He followed her anyway.
Childe lifted a red oni mask and held it beside Lumine's face.
"Too fierce," he decided.
"The mask or me?"
"The mask. You look harmless."
His mouth twitched.
She selected a fox mask with a deceptively gentle expression and held it beside his face.
Childe studied it. "You think I'm sly?"
"I think the deception suits you."
"I'm wounded. I'll have you know I'm very trustworthy."
"Of course."
"Ask my siblings."
"They're biased."
"They have excellent judgment."
They left the stall with the masks tied at their waists, each carrying the other's choice.
Afterward, they shared grilled fish and dango before Childe challenged a festival game involving wooden hoops. He failed twice, accused the bottles of conspiring against him, and won on his third attempt with the grim satisfaction of a man defeating a worthy opponent.
Then they reached a quiet rise overlooking the water.
The lights of Inazuma City shimmered across the narrow channel. Beyond them, the sky deepened from violet into blue.
Childe stopped beside the railing.
For a moment, he said nothing. Then he reached into his pocket.
"I already found souvenirs for my family," he said. "There was one more thing I bought. Something I wanted to give you."
He held out a charm made from blue glass, small enough to rest in the center of his palm. A thin silver line had been worked through it like a wave beneath moonlight.
Lumine stared at it.
“You chose this for me?”
“Unless Paimon has developed a sudden appreciation for decorative glass.”
Lumine accepted it carefully. The glass was warm from where he had carried it inside his coat.
"Why?"
Childe looked toward the water. "So you would have something from Inazuma that wasn't connected to a battle, a decree, or one of my less respectable colleagues."
"You are one of your less respectable colleagues."
A laugh escaped him.
"Then it can remind you of me too."
She looked down at the charm before he could see her smile.
"Thank you."
His expression changed, just slightly, as though the simple sincerity had caught him unprepared.
Lumine closed her fingers around the charm.
Then she reached up and loosened the braided ribbon from her hair.
Pale gold strands slipped free where it had held them and fell against her shoulder.
Childe stopped smiling.
She held the ribbon out to him.
"Here."
He looked at it.
Then at her.
"What's this?"
"A souvenir."
Recognition flickered across his face. "For me?"
"You gave me one." Her fingers tightened around the charm. "And I don't have anything else to give you."
"That still isn't an answer."
Lumine raised an eyebrow. "Do you want it or not?"
"You make a compelling case, comrade." But something in Childe's expression had gone very still.
When he reached for the ribbon, his fingers brushed hers.
Neither moved.
It would have been easy to let go. The ribbon was already in his hand. There was no reason for his fingers to remain against hers.
No reason for Lumine to turn her hand slightly beneath his.
No reason at all for Childe's fingers to curl around hers.
And yet they did.
His hand was warm even through his glove, familiar now in a way it had no business being familiar.
She looked down at their joined hands.
Then up.
Childe was watching her.
No teasing smile. No challenge. Nothing to hide the way he was looking at her.
"Lumine."
Her name sounded different when he said it like that.
She knew, suddenly and with terrifying certainty, that if the silence continued, one of them was going to say something they could not take back.
She also knew she was not sure she wanted to stop it.
Childe's thumb moved once against the side of her hand.
Her breath caught.
A streak of gold climbed into the sky.
It burst above the island in a ring of luminous stars.
Lumine startled and turned toward it. Another followed, then another, scattering red and gold across the darkness. The sparks gathered into the curling shape of a narwhal before dissolving over the sea.
She stared.
Beside her, Childe laughed softly.
"Yoimiya," Lumine said.
"I may have asked her for a small favor."
Lumine remembered Yoimiya's knowing smile in Chinju Forest.
"Childe, don't forget what we discussed."
So this was what she had meant.
Another firework bloomed. Pale gold spread from its heart before deepening into blue at the edges.
An Inteyvat.
The shape was unmistakable. Lumine's breath caught as its petals shimmered above the sea.
She looked at him.
"You asked her to make these?"
"I told her I wanted something a traveler might remember. She chose the designs."
Lumine watched the last golden petals dissolve above the water. “And the Inteyvat?”
"I offered helpful guidance."
"Of course you did."
The final firework rose slowly, a single red trail against the night. It opened above them into two golden figures: a traveler standing beneath the stars and a much smaller companion floating faithfully at her side.
Lumine forgot to breathe.
Paimon and her.
When she looked at Childe, he was not watching the sky. He was watching her.
Their hands were still joined.
Neither mentioned it.
Lumine turned back toward the sky before he could read too much in her face.
For a little while, they watched the sparks fade together.
They returned to the city after the last light disappeared.
Paimon found them near the bridge, still gawking over the display.
"That last one was Lumine and Paimon! Paimon saw it all the way from the city!" She pointed at Childe. "Was this whole thing your idea?"
Childe merely praised the excellent craftsmanship of the mysterious organizer and bought her another serving of dango before she could interrogate him properly.
They parted later beneath the lanterns near the city's harbor.
There was no dramatic farewell. Perhaps both of them understood that would make things harder.
Lumine had tied the blue charm around the strap of her travel pouch.
He glanced at it once before meeting her eyes.
"Try not to get into too much trouble while I'm not around."
Lumine folded her arms. "You're telling me that?"
"Someone has to be responsible."
"Then find someone qualified."
He laughed. For a moment, neither moved.
Then Childe stepped backward.
"See you around, comrade."
Not goodbye, she noticed.
"See you around, Childe."
He turned first.
Lumine watched until the crowd swallowed the red of his scarf. Only then did she touch the charm resting against her travel pouch.
Something to carry.
Something to remember.
Something that made departure feel a little less like an ending.
Later that evening, in Ritou, Childe drew the ribbon Lumine had given him from his pocket. He turned it once between his fingers, then wrapped it twice around his wrist, tucking the sakura bead beneath the edge of his glove where it would not catch during a fight. Only a sliver of violet remained visible.
He had souvenirs for Teucer, Tonia, and Anthon packed safely away.
Those were things he was bringing home.
This was different.
This was something of Lumine's that she had chosen to send with him.
Childe flexed his hand once, feeling the ribbon tighten gently around his wrist.
He did not take it off.