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"This is the house that built me and I’m gonna burn it down. This is the river I crawled from and I refuse to drown here.
And bless the strippers but fuck the men. And bless the berries but fuck the farm. And bless the daughter but fuck the family.
What is a home if not the first place you learn to run from? You’ve got to bite the hand that starves you, and in doing so
Praise the place that birthed you.
Birthed you fucked up.
Birthed you ugly, and interesting, and ready to scream."
- Courtney Love Prays To Oregon, Clementine von Radics
---------------
“Are you sure you don’t want us to come with you?”
The day the gnosis was placed into the cavity of his chest, he had shed his first ever tears. Silent and steady, a foreign thing on the smooth, freshly carved dents of his cheekbones. They were wet to the touch and quickly cooled in the stagnant air of the room. He remembers seeing the way his creator repulsed at the sight, recoiling her hand as the lick of electricity retreated, leaving him empty once more. His mother had scowled and had asked, “Why is he doing that? Is this a malfunction?”
Is his emotion a malfunction? What a cruel joke to make.
And she still kept him around, cruelly she played with him and cared for him as a mother did to a child. Like a little family she kept hidden behind walls, like all the grief she had mustered. There he’d bury himself in the linen sheets of futons, fingers digging into the thin fabric as he laid staring at the ceiling and tracing the pattern of the Yumemiru wood. There he’d pet the stray cats who wandered along the backs of the palace, mewling as the porcelain stung at their silken fur coats. There he’d bury into the embrace of his mother as they sat beneath the pale moonlight, her arms would curl around his torso as he rested in her chest and watched the stars with a silent reverence, counted each blinding dot until his mother beckoned for him to go home, home.
What a tyrant, not only for the wars she created and the ambitions she stripped, but for the twisted malice that was the games she played with him, how she kept him around only to strewn him to the side with only the night to kiss him goodnight. She hadn’t taught him how to be a God, nor how to be mortal. All she had taught him was a bitter thing of betrayal and resentment, a stab to the delicate placeholder of his heart.
And really, what is it worth to keep these memories of such bittersweet times, to realise the fabrication of it all as an elaborate tapestry of lies, a sweet smile of fakery and a burning touch of divinity across his once innocent skin. He was pure, naive and unknowing. Perhaps that state of mind was always better anyway.
He sits on the edge of his bed, feet curled inward and away from the scratchy carpet as he shoved things haphazardly into a travel bag, the same very tears he had cried on that fabled day, threatening to spill over again. He was a fragile thing, not quite human, not quite god, an in-between.
Alhaitham watches with a wary eye, lips downturned distastefully at the scene. Yes, this is a big milestone, yes, Kuni will need all the strength he can muster for this. Alhaitham knows.
Inazuma is a distant dream fleeting and momentary in the cusps of Kuni’s mind, it so crystal clear yet as transient as the moon’s reflection in a vast cobalt sea.
“I can do it. I don’t need you to supervise me like I’m…incapable or something.” Kuni bites, zipping up the bag and dumping it on the floor.
“I know you are more than capable.” Alhaitham sighs, “I’m simply offering as a means of reassurance. Simply having family with you can make you feel more at ease.”
He gets like this sometimes, a lot of the time. He’ll grow bitter and colder and his mind will be clouded with an unwelcome fog. The bite to his words is harsher and sharper, and he hates it, how he’ll jab a the people who don’t deserve it. He’s only mean to his enemies.
Family, his heart twists. He curls in tighter and his scowl deepens, “Why is it you’re willing to go to such lengths simply for my comfort?”
“Because that’s what family is supposed to do.”
Kuni scoffs, scratching the sides of his forearms, leaving streaky marks. Alhaitham shuffles over, peeling his tense fingers off the coolness of his arms and holding them in his own, “It’s okay to be a little afraid, to need a support system. You don’t have to heal on your own.”
“But, I want to.” Kuni reiterates, “I want to be able to. I want to face this on my own. I want to move on.”
He can’t let it consume him any longer. He needs the closure, he needs to walk amongst Inazuma again like he was a child once more. He wants one last taste of a distant memory buried deep so long ago. What has happened since he left? All those months ago in his Harbinger days, what of the chaos he left strewn behind?
It is silent in the room, the air stilled and his breath hitched. Then, Alhaitham speaks. Not to fill silence, but merely to reassure.
“Have I ever told you about me and Kaveh’s trip to Fontaine?”
Kuni glances up furtively, staring at the man as he pondered a memory, once long ago.
“No. Why did you go to Fontaine?”
“Kaveh mustn’t have told you, but when his father had died, his mother had been all consumed with grief. She moved to Fontaine to remarry, leaving him here all alone.”
A mother too all consumed with grief and a son left behind in the rubble of it all? What a familiar story,
“That’s awful.”
Alhaitham nodded, “Kaveh wanted closure from his mother. She had invited him to visit and was packing one night. Do you want to know what he said to me?”
“What?”
“I asked him, ‘do you want me to come with you?’ And he was silent.”
“Then he said to me, ‘perhaps I don’t need you to, but maybe I want it anyway.’”
He sucks in a breath. Of course, he knows the point Alhaitham is trying to make. That it’s okay to want things he doesn’t need. To feel weaker and smaller.
“Point is Kuni, you’re healing is completely separate to the people around you. Nobody can force you
to heal, but we can all be there for you along the journey.”
“So Kuni, would you like us to come with you?”
A second. Two. Three.
“Perhaps I don’t need you to, but maybe I want it anyway.”
Alhaitham smiles, ruffling his hair and preparing to leave. The door to his room bursts open, an indignant Kaveh leaning against the doorframe.
“Will you two hurry up? The biryani won’t stay warm forever!” Kaveh whined. Alhaitham chuckled, placing a chaste kiss on Kaveh’s cheek.
“Make sure to pack a bag once you’ve finished washing the dishes.”
“Hey! It’s clearly your turn to wash dishes— wait, a bag?! Where are we going?!”
“Second honeymoon?”
“Those don’t exist Haitham!”
Alhaitham and Kaveh’s voice fade away into the distance. Kuni smiles, feeling the warmth in his chest hum pleasantly.
-
Kazuha finds Kuni on the Crow’s nest of the Alcor, the midday sun warm against his skin, his legs dangling from the railing as he stared profusely at the vast ocean in front of them. The skies were mostly clear, despite the fact they were nearing Inazuma, a land he knew was known for it’s thunder. Perhaps Ei was feeling a little more lenient that day.
“There you are Kuni.” Kazuha sighed, hauling himself up the last rungs of the ladder and plopping right beside him in a similar manner, “You don’t know how long I’ve been searching for you.”
“There’s only so much space,” Kuni mumbles, “What could’ve taken so long?”
“Perhaps I was too enraptured with the scenery, the ocean is a beautiful canvas after all, a perfect muse for a new haiku.”
“Yeah, a big blue canvas I guess,” Kuni spat, “Why don’t you go enrapture yourself more with your scenery elsewhere, leave me to brood alone.”
“I think I like the view up here better,” Kazuha put simply, “Besides, I’ve heard of a certain somebody who can give some artistic inspiration hiding up here. Tell me, why is such a man concealing himself from the people who care?”
“Maybe such a guy feels a little,” Kuni picks his next words carefully, “Strange. Today.”
Kazuha hums noncommittally, linking a tentative pinky with Kuni’s own, “And does such a guy feel like talking about it?”
Kuni chews at his lip, shifting his hand further under the grip of Kazuha’s. HIs fingers tighten around his and it’s a subtle gesture of comfort, “Such a guy, he doesn’t know how to feel returning to his land of birth. He doesn’t know how to feel returning to a place with such… callous, memories.”
Kazuha is silent, pondering something distantly in his mind. Kuni can tell by the way his eyes cast upwards and his lips purse slightly.
“Kuni, do you mind passing a message onto this guy?” Kazuha finally asked after a long pause.
Kuni wonders how such a long analogy could wind up to be this long, yet here he is, “Sure.”
“Tell him that it is okay to feel this way, unsure and shaky on where he stands. Tell him that he can spend as long as he needs processing his emotions, and that I’m sure he has a wonderful support group awaiting him for any time he needs.”
“Alright, One second.” He chuckled, shutting his eyes and letting the sun bask over his face, “Oh, he says that he knows, yet it doesn’t stop him from worrying about everything.”
“Hmmm, his mind’s a bit stubborn isn’t it?” Kazuha teases.
“Yes, very stubborn,” Kuni shook his head disappointingly, “One says it’s one of the most stubborn in the land.”
“Oh really?” Kazuha broods, “Then I guess you’ll have to be stuck as my messenger, I believe it’ll take a lot of messages to get through that thick skull of his–”
“Oh, new message,” Kuni cuts him off, “He says that maybe it won’t make it all better, but a kiss would be greatly appreciated.”
Kazuha’s eyes do that thing, where he looks at him and they soften impossibly, so much so that it’s overwhelming. It’s barely a change to anybody who doesn"t know him, but to Kuni, it’s as if the stars align and somehow, somehow that makes fate decide that this boy deserves such a person as him. What has he done to be able to be looked at with that gaze? To be even perceived as anything as soft as Kazuha makes him out to be?
But he supposes he’s not only stubborn, but a little selfish too. Kazuha murmurs something about passing the kiss on, and Kuni only giggles at how absurdly long the bit had been going on. Kuni angles his cheek towards Kazuha. Gently, Kazuha grabs his chin and plants his lips on the coolness of it, warm and sweet it was.
Kuni sighs and rests his head on Kazuha’s shoulder, staring out into the ocean. Kazuha rests his head atop Kuni’s own, a smile tugging at his lips.
“But seriously Kuni, we’re here for you, okay?” Kazuha whispers, “This is hard for you, but that doesn’t make you any less stronger than you already are.”
Kuni hums in acknowledgment, slipping his eyes shut, “Thank you.”
“I love you Kuni.”
-
Docking in Ritou, immediately Kuni notices how much livelier the nation felt, even in the small harbour town.
Ever since the lifting of the Sakoku decree and the Vision Hunt Decree, he’s heard of how Inazuma has transformed as a nation. People slowly returned to their daily routines and people looked to make the most of this blissful freedom they had waited so long for.
Thanking Beidou, the four step off the ship and make their way along the docks. Kazuha leads the group, waving casually at other sailors he most likely knew from his outings with Crux Crew. Kuni trailed behind, dipping his head and glaring at his toes. Kaveh stumbled along, kamera clutched between his hands as he snapped photographs of the various scenery around them. He must’ve had at least 20 by then, who knows how many he’ll have once they reach Inazuma city. Alhaitham carries both his and Kaveh’s luggage, tugging it along as he grumbles beneath his breath, cursing Kaveh out as he almost bumps into random passersby.
“We’ll be able to get a ride across to Narukami Island if we head to the opposite gate,” Kazuha stated, “So let’s hurry shall we?”
They all chorused in agreement, shuffling through the crowd.
After perhaps ten or so minutes of walking together, they found an escort willing to take them in a cart all the way to the city. It trundled quietly along the dirt roads towards the city. Endless green fields sprawled across the island, broken up by tiny, winding streams that lead to the vast ocean that surrounded them. When going by Mount Yougou, Kaveh had audibly gasped in delight, kicking his feet and capturing it in all it’s glory. Alhaitham had then gone on a spiel about the distant history of the mountain, how it came to rise out of the ground drawn by the eternal storms. Soon the two had devolved into lighthearted bickering, and Kuni could only tune them out, staring out into the horizon.
“How are you feeling Kuni?” Kazuha shuffled to sit next to him, pressing their shoulders together. Its a grounding pressure against his uncertain frame.
“Alright I suppose.” He mumbles honestly, letting the wind tousle his hair, “I’ll manage.”
I’ll manage . Will he really, all by himself? Or is he just pretending to make himself feel an ounce better about himself?
Kazuha smiles nonetheless, “That’s good to hear.”
“We’re here.” The cart owner crows. Kuni turns his head to see the ever looming figure of Inazuma city finally emerging. Tiny wooden huts transitioning to the grand, ornate buildings flourished with sloping roofs and intricate wood carvings. Sakura petals flutter sporadically in the air, resting in the sides of the streets. Tenshukaku stands tall above it all, like a watchful God observing the city. The sight brings him shivers.
Stepping out of the carriage, stretching his legs, Kuni can confidently say that this is his first time stepping into Inazuma city after hundreds and hundreds of years. Despite having visited during his Fatui years, he avoided the city at all costs. He’d tell himself it was to not get caught and draw attention to himself, but he knew there was more to it than that. No matter how much he showered the fear with unending hunger and greed.
Inhale. Exhale. He is not that person anymore.
It’s time for him to finally move on.
-
Kuni decides to wander alone on his second day in Inazuma.
At first, it’s not far, just around the city. His back still prickles with the feeling of eyes watching his every move, and even with his regular outfit, he feels as if he sticks out like a sore thumb, dumbly wandering amongst locals as if he isn’t one himself.
Even if Kuni was previously a resident of Inazuma, the only time he had truly seen the city was when he was seeking an audience with the Shogun. And even then, he had come and went fleetingly quick, a hazy figure in and out. He never stopped to truly look around and experience the place he was meant to rule over live in.
Nevertheless, it feels like a distant memory, a childhood home only lived in for mere months, a photograph with only the landscape and without the faces. Familiar, unfamiliar. When has he ever walked amongst these streets and not watched them like he’s trapped?
Kuni walks until he finds the neatly-paved stone road end. It transitions harshly into dirt and leads out to the poorer, rural village areas. A stream gushes beneath a flat stone walkway, and in the distance Mount Yougou rises out of the earth, touching the sky basked in violet.
Kuni never tires, so he wanders and wanders, through the wilderness, over rivulets and through fields.
He takes himself to the ocean again, staring into the distance. He rests on Amakane island, watching a man wrestle with the bristly rope that ties his boat to a rotting post. His hair thin and brittle and his voice musky as he curses beneath his breath.
“Excuse me.” Kuni wanders up to the man, “Can you take me to Tataratsuna?”
The man glances up at him, making a noise of amusement, “Tataratsuna?” His voice is of a different dialect, “What’re you going all the way there for boy? Nobody live there no more except for some researchers.”
He scowls. Of course he knows nobody lives there anymore, “I am a researcher.”
The man quirks his eyebrow, “Where’s yer crew? All that fancy equipment?”
“Look. I just need to get to Tataratsuna.” Kuni gritted through his teeth. The audacity of some people, “I’ll pay you. Just let me ride with you.”
The man snickered, “Alright.”
-
The first thing he notices is how truly empty it is.
Tataratsuna used to be brimming with human life as they settled in their small village homes, spending the days working, miners wheeling rickety carts of crystal marrow in and out of warehouses, children playing amongst the emerald blades of grass as the summer heat reached its peak, mothers fanning themselves in the cool shade of their homes. Kuni would spend his days sitting in the open room of Niwa’s old home, practising his shaky calligraphy strokes on parchment, an occasional merciful breeze filtering through the home as the heat stuck to his porcelain. Tataratsuna had actually felt habitable once. Like home.
Now, everything is in ruins, derelict and left to rot as time carries on. Rickety bridges sway at the slightest gust of wind, further and further into the island all he could see was the impenetrable gloom that lingered against the cliffs, unmoveable even after all the years and attempts of cleansing, like those impossible grass stains that stuck to your clothes.
Kuni slowly rises up a cliff and treads carefully along a bridge, sandals clipping against the old wood. He wanders through what remained of the village, all the houses and the smiths, stone wells infested with moss and wooden carts left upended in the open. Kuni shivers as the air around him chills the further he walks along the once well beaten path.
Kuni stops in front of a house. It’s slightly larger than the others, with a front porch and a room exposed to the air around them, the shoji blinds torn off their hinges. This was Niwa’s home. It’s as if his feet had subconsciously led him there. Tentatively, he steps through the overgrown grass and onto the porch.
“I’m home,” He whispers as he steps through the empty doorframe, leaving his shoes on what remains of the entranceway. He has to watch carefully where he steps, the holes in the floorboards splintering with each step he takes. The curtains were tattered, chewed through by moths and crystalflies. The glass of the windows shattered or musty, the framing falling apart. He knew Tataratsuna was abandoned long ago, but he never thought it to be this bad. Everything was swept through with the fabric of time, leaving it all to collect dust as everybody forgot, forgot of the once simple joy that smothered the simple island and mining village.
He walks through the house, putting a name to each room. The little one to the right used to be the kitchen, the pots shattered to pieces and the countertops rusted over. The other room used to be Niwa’s mother’s bedroom, the mattress stripped of its sheets and nothing leftover but an old piece of cloth, the tatami mat splintered and old.
The next room he walks into makes his breath hitch from the memory.
The little table in the centre of the room still sits there, unassuming. One of the legs have been kicked out from underneath and the surface is scratched beyond relief. Yet still it lies there after all these years.
That was the table he sat at where he first learnt to read, to write, to become something that even remotely resembles a human. Niwa would softly guide his hands, showing him the correct stroke orders of each various Inazuman character. There he’d sit clumsily reading passages aloud, his eyes squinting as he scanned over each line. In there the summer wind would blow through the open room, cooling him down after hours of sitting and writing on the thin pillow he kneeled on.
Something flutters from the corner of his eyes. A piece of paper sticks out from the floor, still lasting the hundreds of years that have passed. He tiptoes over, picking it up tentatively. It’s his own handwriting, still in his early stages of learning. The ink stains the pages and smudges in the corners, and the strokes are thick, as if he were leaning too heavily with the brush. Each character was the same though, legible despite the lack of refinement.
家族. 家族. 家族. Family. Family. Family.
He feels sick, something stirring in his stomach. He drops the paper and leaves with his head hanging low, scowling as he leaves the place he used to call home. The place where the people were his family. Family.
Those little writing lessons made him feel childish, but supposedly people call that a memory from childhood. Something nostalgic and simple, yet it’s the memory you cling to most, as it is a time reminiscent of simpler, easier days. Those days he wishes he could return to. In those days, all he had to worry about was impressing Niwa with his smithing skills, whether they’d have dango for dessert again a second night in a row, when the next time he could visit Nazuchi beach could be. Everything was so blissfully simple. He supposes the only thing that hasn’t changed is how he still worries about being human, no matter how much time passes.
He steps out of the house hurriedly, standing stock still on the front porch, silence enveloping the island. There’s only the soft hiss of wind darting through the grass, the grumble of thunder and the crashing of waves. It’s quiet, too quiet.
He walks, and walks, and walks. Away from his old home, away from the first ever home he had. Away from the place that gave him a childhood, despite him being already too old, too knowledgeable of the cruelties of the world. He was innocent, and naive, and he let himself get used to such a sweet reality, only for it to be shattered by the man who’s always been there. Tugging at his strings, altering his life courses, messing with him for what? Just for laughs?
He stops when he realises distantly his toes are wet. Shaking his head to dispel the haziness, he looks around and finds himself on a beach.
On Nazuchi beach.
How far had he walked to get here? How much time had passed?
He stands on a thin strip of damp sand, the seawater lapping against his feet, carrying speckled sea shells and shards of sea glass along with it.
Katsuragi had said he found Kabukimono wandering alone on the outskirts of Nazuchi beach. Only Katsuragi and himself knew that was a lie. A safe cover up. Still, he visited the beach frequently, often when he had nothing to do. Going for walks, picking up shells, sitting by the water. He had found the place relaxing, perfect for reminiscing and thinking of all the things in his life.
Finding a rock jutting out of the sand, sprayed in seafoam, he sits upon it and stares at the sky, like he used to when he was younger. He’s silent as the clouds drift slowly through the grey sky. The saltwater is cold against his ankles as he dips them further into the sea, and his back aches with the ragged breaths he had taken. He didn’t even know he was breathing.
Seeing the way Tataratsuna has crumbled over the years, looking back at everything he used to call home, it leaves a pang in his chest. If he had been a little more observant, less naive and gullible, maybe this place wouldn’t just be a pile of rotting wood and houses. Maybe Niwa’s heart wouldn’t lay shrivelled and black resting beneath the layers of the earth. Maybe he could’ve spent just one more day with his family.
Family. Home. Childhood. What good does it even do if it all vanishes as soon as he touches it?
-
Sitting on a crate of boxes behind a restaurant, Kuni remembers.
Kuni muses about his ‘memories of childhood’. He thinks of all the simple, treasured memories of the past, those he could look back to and feel some semblance of inner peace once more. Drinking tea on the porch, picking Naku weeds, watching other children play amongst tall, unkempt grass. Everything feels so distant yet so vivid, the confusing feelings welling up inside him. How does one get rid of this longing?
He used to be scared of his past. He used to run from it, used to shake with anger (directed towards himself) whenever his Fatui days were brought up. Now, he longs for it. Longs to be back amongst the people of Tataratsuna once more. Longs for simplicity, where thoughts weren’t so confusing, and he was allowed to be confused and stupid. Because he was just a fledgling. Nothing more.
It’s mortifying, being the one who remembers it all. Who longs for it all. People all around him are moving on from their pasts, yet he can’t help but want to go back. He loves the people he’s found now, although he often feels undeserving of their kindness and affection, he loves them anyway. But now everything feels like a tantalising dream, just out of his reach.
The tree next to him rustles, a flurry of petals showering over him. Confused, he directs his attention to the somewhat sentient tree. Was it the ground shaking, or did trees suddenly gain consciousness while he was gone?
Suddenly, a man pops out of the branches, dangling from the tufts of leaves, his white hair flopping unceremoniously across his face. He groans, spitting it out of his mouth before twisting over and flipping onto his head. He stands with a thud next to Kuni and his pile of boxes.
“Sorry little dude! Didn’t mean to frighten you!” The man laughs heartily. He’s very tall and broad, two red horns protrude from his head. An Oni , he thinks to himself.
“...Little?” He scoffs disbelievingly. The Oni glances towards him, expression furrowing slightly.
“You want some candy?” The man outstretches his hand to reveal several brightly coloured hard candy, wrapped in thin plastic film shining in the sunlight. He quirks an eyebrow at the man.
“What am I, a child?” Kuni scorns. It’s one thing to call him little, but what, offering him candy as if that’ll make his sorry self feel better? What a joke.
“You gotta forgive him,” another voice cuts in from around the corner. A lady with messy lime green hair, face covered with a mask, comes slinking around the corner. The Oni makes a strangled noise of something ranging between surprise and fear, “So this is where you were hiding huh Boss?”
“I wasn’t hiding!” The man points an accusatory finger right smack centre in the middle of her chest, “I was simply looking for a quiet place to enjoy my snack!”
“When have you ever wanted quiet…” the lady turns to him, eyes shifting to something less violent.
“I’m Kuki Shinobu. Deputy leader of the Arataki gang.” She waves at him before averting her gaze warily to the man beside her, “And this…is Arataki Itto.”
“The One and Oni!” He boasts, puffing out his chest and displaying an all-too-smug look on his face.
“...Kuni.” He responds, nodding his head in acknowledgment to the two, “So… is there any reason you"re talking to me?”
Itto’s energy shifts in milliseconds flat. One minute he’s sticking his tongue out, showing off his crooked tongue piercing, the next he’s staring at him with that pitiful expression.
Kuni despises pity. Always has, always will.
“Well, I was originally looking for the boss,” Shinobu reasoned, “You just so happened to unfortunately be in the same vicinity as him.”
“HEY! Shinobu, what’s that meant to mean?” Itto, now unwrapping one of the little candies, pouts. He looks incredibly childish, despite his stocky, muscular build, “Anybody would be happy to be around someone as hunky and handsome as, moi !”
Shinobu took a seat next to Kuni, the oxes creaking under their shared weight. Her eyes creased around the edges, as if she were smiling apologetically at him, “He may act like this, but he’s worried about you. He may not know you yet but Itto’s number one priority is to cheer someone up.”
“Have you been watching him this whole time?” Kuni cocked his head. Kuki giggled.
“Well someone’s gotta keep track of him.”
He’s suddenly reminded of the times he’d watch over Nahida. Standing upon the eaves of rooftops, his arms crossed, he’d watch as the tiny archon conversed with various people across the nation. He couldn’t hear a word of what they were saying, but closely he’d watch their facial expressions to know when to intervene. Usually the expressions varied from that of being cheerful and polite to revering the little God, shying away from her glow. There was the rare case however, where the person’s face would contort to one of anger and loathing. Those were the times his eyes would narrow as he hopped down to intervene. Nahida always teased him for it.
“Can you two stop conversing without me?!” Itto cried out petulantly, truly a man child, “We gotta get going!”
“And where is it we’re going boss?” Kuki raised an inquisitive eyebrow. Despite the mask, she seemed to convey each emotion perfectly, “It better not be to terrorise poor kids again by scamming them out of their candy.”
“What? Psshhh no! It’s just…you know…” He had a guilty look in his eyes, mouth twisted into some unimaginable expression. Kuni almost burst out laughing.
“Itto. Do you really want the rest of the gang worrying about you as you’re put into jail again ?”
“Again?”
Itto promptly ignores his snarky comment, “I just think it’d be a fun way to cheer this little dude up!”
It takes a few seconds for him to register that Itto is actually talking about him, “Me? Why should I come to you silly little children’s games?”
Kuki and Itto glance at each other, then at him, then back to one another. Archons, it was like they were communicating in their own language. He’s about to cut them off when Itto suddenly scoops him up.
“Man, you just seem so…down!” Itto lifted him onto his shoulder with ease, much to Kuni’s dismay. He grumbled and kicked and yelled but to no avail, Itto’s arm stayed wrapped firmly around his waist, “Don’t worry little guy, the Arataki Gang will provide you the adventure of a lifetime! We’ll turn that frown upside down in no time!”
“We’ll also, unfortunately, send you a one way ticket to jail.” Kuki grumbled beneath her breath.
He smothers a laugh, burying his face into his hands against Itto’s shoulder.
“Fine. Just this once okay?” Kuki’s voice seems to soften, watching the two fondly as Itto cheers and carries them off through the streets of Inazuma. She shakes her head, trailing behind at a distance.
-
“Onikabuto…Battle?”
Currently he’s crouched in a bush, bristly twigs stuck awkwardly in his hair, his hands outreached, fumbling through the foliage. If only that damn beetle hadn’t slipped from his grasp.
“Yeah! Have you never heard of it before?” Itto clapped his hands for the thousandth time, still missing the onikabuto that seemed to be evading him expertly, “Kids here do it all the time! They’ve been doing it for generations now!”
Of course he hasn’t. Peeling innocent, unassuming beetles from their homes on the barks of trees and putting them to battle against one another for one’s amusement? A stupid way to pass the time really.
“Sounds…interesting.” He jeered, picking up a smooth looking rock that had roused him into believing it were the onikabuto he was looking for. Scowling, he threw it away.
“Anyway, the way to make this fun is to find the perfect specimen as your fighter!” Itto explained, “They gotta be bigger, stronger than the average onikabuto, but they also have to be quick on their feet! You can’t have an Onikabuto fumbling around during a match!”
He nodded, deciding to give up on the stray Onikabuto he had found and trying to find a new one. Kuki was mindlessly twirling a dagger around, uninterested in the likes of Onikabuto hunting. She had cut a few lavender melons off of a nearby tree, saying she was saving them for later tonight when they met up with the rest of the gang members for some roasted lavender melon. Kuni had declined the offer of staying with them til then, he was partial to fresh lavender melon anyway.
On the bark of a spindly tree a little further down the area, he could see little flecks of purple clambering up the trunk. He decided to check over there while Itto continued his madman dance of hands.
As much as he hated to admit it, he was having fun wandering around in the open like this, with nothing but the purpose of finding the perfect beetle. It was a stupid thing to find solace in, yet he found his chest humming with content as the mild quiet stretched across the plain. Sure, Itto and his loud, buffoon-ish actions were certainly a disturbance to the peace, but Kuni still found it to be a lovely day. His mind had been thoroughly distracted, that"s for sure.
Getting closer to the tree, his hands outstretched, he finds one Onikabuto resting on a higher branch, bigger than the others. Cautiously, his hands lift into a dome, curling over the little bug. He lowered his hands carefully, slowly, before quickly scooping the beetle up and curling it into his fists. It wriggled slightly, tickling his palms, before calming and stilling.
In his hand is a larger Onikabuto, the largest of the ones they’ve seen so far. Its outer shell is a creamy lilac, the design on it’s shell curving upward to match its antennae. Its legs are a deeper purple, thicker than most yet more nimble. He smiles at the little creature as it rests stationary on his hand. Itto and Shinobu hurry over in response to his silence. Itto lets out a squeal of delight, looking at what Kuni found.
“Now THAT is a winner right there.” Itto patted him heartily on the back, staring at the beetle cupped into the palm of his hands. It’s antennae twitches slightly.
“Come on! Our match is due in 10 minutes!”
Holding the Onikabuto close to his chest, he hurries after Itto, who’s already charging off into the distance. He smiles as he stares down at the beetle in his hands. What a childish thing to find joy in.
-
The grass is dry and scraggly against his knees, pressing indents into his shins as he kneels before the wooden crate. The Onikabuto is still cupped preciously in the curves of his hand. It bumps his fingers curiously, and he stifles the urge to smile fondly at it. Getting attached to a beetle was not the way he wanted this day to go, but he doesn’t mind it. What should he name it, Murasaki? Hidehisa? Katsu?
“Hey, Stop daydreaming Mister Hat!” He’s snapped out of his thoughts when he finds the little boy across from him glaring at him. Ah right, “We’re about to go head to head in a gruelling battle! Take this seriously!”
How can he take this seriously when the opponent in front of him is an eight year old, who even standing still reaches the same height of him sitting? His tiny hands curl tightly around his own Onikabuto. He tuts, it’s probably puny in comparison to his, “Alright, alright, no need to get so worked up.”
The wind tousles the trees surrounding their ‘battleground’ leaves falling in swirling motions around them. The air smells faintly of lavender melon, perhaps from the Oni beside him splitting one open savagely with his own bare hands. If he shuts his eyes, lets the leave brush against his arms, lets the innocent excitement he feels slowly growing in the pit of his stomach liven, perhaps he can feel like a child again, small and unknowing.
After all that had happened that day, he felt that perhaps being dragged along by a strange Oni and his reluctant sidekick to put Onikabuto to the battle with random kids was somehow the best way this day could’ve gone.
“Alright,” Shinobu huffed. Reluctantly, she had been made the game host of this event, “Now if you’re all ready, on your marks, set, go–”
Their hands go flying up, revealing each other"s Onikabuto to each other. Surely enough, the kid’s Onikabuto is smaller, yet more vibrant in colour, and just the littlest bit more aggressive. It charges straight for his own, antennas flared ready to knock his own down. They make contact, his own withstanding the attack with ease. It was only a matter of pushing back and forth. Itto seemed to be getting riled up, cheering along, booing when the kid’s Onikabuto managed to gain the upper hand then screaming louder when Kuni’s made a comeback. It was all so foolish, so silly, yet he could feel the laughter ruminating in his chest from the absurdity.
After about a few more seconds, his own Onikabuto manages to twist its body and fling the other onto its back. Kuki counts to three before declaring the round as over. The pure look of horror splayed across the kids face was…amusing. He’d almost feel bad if it weren’t for Itto sweeping him up in his arms again.
“Man, you’re a natural at this!” Itto cheered, lifting him so he was sitting on his shoulder this time as opposed to being thrown over like a sack of potatoes.
“Well, it was the Onikabuto doing all the work.” He took a mock bow anyway. Across from them, the kid’s eyes had started to well up, lip quivering as he began to loudly bawl. He was clutching his Onikabuto tightly in his hands now.
“Y-You…Cheater!” The kid wailed, “You play unfairly! I *hic* Want a rematch!”
“Nuh-uh kid,” Itto tutted, “Don’t be a sore loser, now hand over your candy.”
“No! I don’t wanna!” The kid pouted, tears pouring down his rosy cheeks. Kuni felt the situation was getting slightly out of hand now.
“Hey, maybe you are being a little unfair on the kid–”
“Nah, this is a valuable life lesson Kuni!” Itto defended himself, lowering him back onto his feet, “They need to learn at some point that not everything is going to be served to them on a silver platter–”
“ARATAKI ITTO!” A woman bellows from across the field.
“...oops.”
-
The walk to the Tenryou headquarters is humiliating. Not for him, no, he was doing just fine. However the second hand embarrassment he got from watching Itto argue vivaciously with the general made him wonder how Shinobu put up with him all the time.
Speaking of Shinobu, she had disappeared without a trace as soon as the general of the Tenryou commission had shown up. As if one minute she were there, and the next she was gone. He curses himself for not being able to get away as quickly as she did. It’s as if she smelt the danger.
“I’m telling you general, that kid had it out for me!” Itto yelled, several passersby blocking their ears at his incessant barking, “He gave me a stink eye, blew a raspberry at me, then tugged on my horns! And I had already tried to avoid him, three times! He was practically begging for me to fight him at that point.”
“We’ve already gotten several angry complaints from the boys parents about you taking away his expensive candies,” Sara had sighed annoyedly, “You’ve already hit enough strikes, you know what that means.”
Itto’s mouth flies open animatedly, “What?! I swear you gave me more chances!”
“With your track record? Yeah, no.” The headquarters loomed just ahead, guards standing on watch by the gate. They nodded politely at Sara’s arrival. Their shoes clacked against the stone courtyard as they headed for the small office-like building. He sighs. Maybe he’ll get out of this one. Maybe she’ll take pity on him.
“And don’t think you’re excluded from this, young man.” The general glares daggers at him, as if reading his mind.
“I’m older than you.” He pursed his lips, raising an eyebrow. They stared at each other loathingly for a few more seconds before Sara turned and stalked off. Obviously, she expects them to follow.
“Sorry General, gotta intercept this one from you.”
Somebody grips his arm, and he almost panics on the spot from pure surprise. Turning, he sees a male with burgundy hair tied back into a messy ponytail. The look plastered across his face is that of pure mischief, lips curling into a smirk.
“And why is that, Doushin Shikanoin?” Sara shot a withering frown towards him. She towered over him, with her tall height in addition to her tengu geta, he seemed weak and puny next to her. Yet his cocky attitude didn’t falter, in fact, it seemed to be fuelled by her scepticality. Seems he had her all figured out.
“I have my own personal interrogation to perform,” His grip tightened on his poor forearm
Unless him coming to Inazuma for a ‘holiday’ was deemed unlawful behaviour, Shikanoin seemed to be lying through the skin of his teeth. If he was, he didn’t show it though.
“Wait! Kuni, you’re just gonna leave me to rot in jail?!” Itto cried, mock betrayal in his voice, “I trusted you! My compadre, you’ve left me to die!”
“Stop being dramatic.” The general griped, tugging him along, “Shikanoin, you better not be up to something.”
“Don’t worry, you know I take my responsibilities very seriously,” He smirked smugly, “Oh, and Itto, don’t worry. I’m sure your little supervisor will be here soon to bail you out.”
And he’s dragged out of the headquarters, being led by the detective off to, who knows where? To investigate what exactly?
“What are you really doing, Doushin?” Kuni hissed, “Cut the act, what is really going on here?”
“Uh, what"s going on is I’m saving you from jail.” Heizou retorted. Kuni’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.
“Saving me? Why?”
Heizou laughed earnestly, “Come on, Arataki Itto is landing himself behind bars every other day. I wouldn"t be surprised if he roped in someone innocent like you. Now lead the way to your house, I"m walking you home.”
“How romantic,” He rolled his eyes, “How about you take me to dinner first Shikanoin.”
“Just call me Heizou,” He winks, Kuni blanches, “I’ll be sure to consider your offer.”
“Wait.” Kuni stops, “Do you know me?”
Heizou twiddled his thumbs, “Maybe a thing or two.”
“Have you been stalking me?” He cries out incredulously. Curious onlookers turn to gaze at them.
“No, no, nothing like that!” Heizou laughed as he shook his head, “I may or may not be a close friend of Kazuha’s.”
“Oh.” It clicks in his head. Of course Kazuha has friends from Inazuma, how stupid could he be? It’s a little ironic though that one of Kazuha’s friends is a detective, considering months ago he had been considered a fugitive of the nation. People could change though, he knew that personally.
“So how do you know I’m not a bad person?” Kuni asks. Any person would be able to guess what his question really meant. It wasn’t just about him getting caught destroying a kid’s hypothetical hopes and dreams.
“You also don’t seem to be a bad person from what I can observe. My intuition is never wrong.”
His eyes widened at the remark. He snickers, “Yeah right. ‘Never wrong’ my ass.”
Heizou flashes an unimpressed look his way, crossing his arms. Kuni feels he might’ve offended him somehow.
“Look, I don’t know what kind of edgy past you’ve had,” Kuni snorts as Heizou speaks, “You might’ve been some tyrannical war criminal for all I know,”
Kuni has to stifle a sheepish snort, opting to instead pretend to cough. Heizou glances at him sceptically but leaves it at that.
“But what matters to me is that you are good now. ” Heizou iterates, “You are a changed man from what I can see.”
Kuni snickers under his breath, “thank you for your insight, Mister Detective.”
“Hey, I’m just laying out what I see here.”
Kuni finds that he doesn’t really mind Heizou. Sure, his flirting was often at times very confusing, and his touchy nature was a little overbearing, but Kuni found that he was a good guy underneath all the sass and coyness.
“Oh, and by the way,” Heizou stops him just as they reach their front door, “If you ever, and I mean, EVER, hurt Kazuha, know that you’ll never see the light of day again…kay?”
He winks as if it had all been nothing and raps on the door thrice. Alright, good to know he was also very protective and slightly scary.
Let’s just say Kazuha was not at all pleased to find Kuni had been wrapped up with the police again.
-
When Kuni looks in the mirror, he doesn’t know what he sees.
Kazuha’s hands brush against his waist as he ties the obi, he shivers. The yukata fabric hangs loosely on his skin, pooling around his wrists and hanging airily around his legs.
Looking in the mirror, he sees Kazuha behind him, lips twisted in concentration as he expertly tied his sash, hair hanging in his face. Kaveh and Alhaitham whisper to each other on the bed, yukatas already all set. Alhaitham murmurs something into Kaveh’s ear and Kuni has to pretend he doesn’t see the scarlet blush that lit up his cheeks.
Kuni looks at himself and he seems infinitely smaller.
The light blue of his yukata flows around him, obscuring his already slender figure, like frigid ripples along a river. The obi hugs his waist tightly, the sleeves fall over his fingertips. He supposes it’s something he might’ve worn when his fine silk his mother would’ve bought him had gotten too dirty, and Niwa’s mother would’ve scolded him and taken the silks off and given him a simple yukata to make do with. He remembers asking Niwa to help him tie the sash, never being able to knot the back carefully enough. He remembers Niwa’s soft hands brushing gently against his back. In the reflection of the mirror, Kazuha looks so much like Niwa, face twisted into a serene smile. Does Kazuha know how much of him he sees inside him?
“Are we ready to head out?” Kazuha grabs for Kuni’s hand, reassuringly squeezing. He nods mutely, Alhaitham and Kaveh making various noses of approval. Kazuha leads the three of them out into the streets of Inazuma, shutting the door softly behind him as they set off in the direction of the festival.
Despite it still being early evening, the stalls being set up and the lanterns not even lit yet, people were already bustling in and out of the streets, admiring the beginnings of the festival. Little kids ran amongst the crowds of people, couples chattered with one another as they glanced from stall to stall, clinging to each other"s arms, families found shady spots to sit and enjoy the festivities from afar.
The stands were full with different delicacies and immaculate works of craftsmanship. Soft, chewy sakura mochi made fresh with mochi mallets. Crates upon crates of a fairly new, inventive drink, Dango milk (the name itself makes him repulse). Paper lanterns swaying in the gentle breeze as afternoon blurred into evening. Everything caught Kuni’s eye, filling him with a distant nostalgia he couldn’t quite capture.
“Apparently there’s going to be a firework show later tonight at around 7!” Kaveh beamed happily after somehow already sneaking off and having bought hand-painted masks for him and Alhaitham, “Alhaitham you brought your headphones right?”
He tapped the headset he clearly had on dully, throwing a thumbs up. At the mention of fireworks, Kuni had lit up.
“Are the Nagonahara still running these fireworks shows?” He asked innocently. It was strange of all things to ask that, but he knew the name well.
Often with his time in Tenshukaku, Ei would bring him to the top of the building to watch fireworks with him on the roof. There she’d go on spiels about the Nagonahara family and their history, how the fireworks were made and how each pigment was made. He had listened intently as a child, a fool for he had thought that information would be important to him in the future, but at least he was an expert on them anyway.
Kazuha"s eyes widened in mild surprise, “Why, yes they are, do you know the Naganoharas Kuni?
He nods, “I didn’t know they were still doing fireworks. They’ve been doing them ever since I–”
He furrowed his eyebrows, cutting off his sentence as he realised the words he was about to say. Kazuha is quick to intervene, “Let’s not dwell too much on the details. It’s nice to know you’ve also experienced these fireworks too.”
He nods, adjusting his sleeves and tucking back his hair before slipping into the crowd once more.
They spend the time leading up to seven idly running from each stall to stall. They ate various variations of street food, bought many souvenirs, including several tea packets for him to take home to Nahida, and simply drank in the atmosphere. The moon had started to rise, the sky still streaky with pink. The lanterns started to be lit, their warm glow flickering to life, lighting the entire festival to life.
“Kuni, Kazuha!” Behind him, Kaveh is running up behind them, a girl following behind him, “This is Yoimiya, we met her while in the markets the other day. She’s the one running the firework show!”
Yoimiya cheerfully waves, her blondish hair bouncing up and down as her head bobbles in excitement, “Naganohara Yoimiya, at your service!”
The current successor of the Naganohara legacy. An infinite possibility of responses ran through his head, but really all he could focus on was the mild anticipation burning at his fingers.
“Pleasure to meet you, Yoimiya,” Kazuha had bowed politely, Kuni followed suit, “We look forward to your fireworks display.”
Yoimiya beams, “I hope you enjoy it! I’ve added some new ones in there to spice things up, so I hope it’ll be to your liking!”
Kazuha nods, and Kuni itches to say something. It lodges in his throat as he stands closer beside Kazuha. He’s never been adept at this whole social thing.
“Well, I’ll see you all later! Enjoy the fireworks!” Yoimiya waved enthusiastically, giving Kaveh a quick hug before hurrying off into the crowd. He watches her go with an increasing intensity to run after her and thank her. Archons know how impulsive he’s been these few days.
Ah, fuck it. Impulsivity is great.
“I’ll be right back.” He lets go of Kazuha’s hand and hurries off after her through the crowd. The tiny ornaments in her hair aren’t hard to spot. When he catches up with her, he taps her on the back to grab her attention. She turns to focus on him.
“Oh, Kuni was it?” Yoimiya tilted her head, “Need anything?”
“I…” His mind distantly flashes to those reverent nights on the rooftop with his mother, feet dangling off the edge, sky full of colour.
“Thank you for all your hard work.” He finally manages, “I… have always loved your family’s work.”
Stunned, she chuckled, bringing a sheepish hand to rub the back of her nape, “Aw, I’m flattered, really! I’m glad you like my work. Enjoy the night, Kuni!”
He nodded, lips pressed together as he stood stationary in the crowd. Shifting from foot to foot, he stands there contemplating a little more.
“Kuni?”
Yoimiya’s still staring at him. He perks up, “Uh, yeah?”
“...You’ve got good people around you.” She smiles, yet it’s smaller, kinder.
He gnaws at his lip before nodding slowly, “Yeah…I guess I do.”
“I think I’ll come see you guys when the show’s over.” She smiles before wandering off into the crowd.
Her words echo through the orchestra of thoughts in his mind, panging off the walls. He guesses he did have great people around him, hey?
“Kuni.”
Alhaitham is behind him, brushing his shoulder lightly, “Kaveh has found a good spot for us. Come.”
He drifts behind him, scuffling across the dirt paths towards a distant hill. At the top, Kaveh was waving to them, vicariously stretching above the crowds who had gathered. Kazuha was with him, twisting a maple leaf in his hand. He saw the way Alhaitham softened. He knew he could"ve stayed in that night. He knew fireworks weren’t his strong suit, yet he still decided to come anyway. Decided to brave the night with his noise cancelling headphones turned to the max setting. Kuni knew he was like that, the little things he did to show he cared.
Once they’ve climbed the hill, they arrange themselves to be sitting on the grass, the dew seeping into their yukatas. The buzz of excitement thrums through the crowds gathered, splayed across the festival grounds. Nostalgia still lays heavy in his gut.
He supposes the nostalgia is for longing for everything he’s missed. When was his chance to have a normal childhood? When was he brought to festivals as a child to spend time with his mother, when did he get the chance to hang out with the other children and play with them amongst other things? All he got were the cold walls of Tenshukaku and the small orchard of Cuihua trees in the back. Still, wasn’t that enough for little Kuni anyway?
The first pop sparkles into the sky, a flash of yellow that bursts magnificently through the sky. It glitters and shines, forming goldfish, stars, flowers. Various shapes of varying vivid colours, falling from the sky. They fall like comets coming down to earth. Softly, he reaches a hand up as if to catch the sparks, as if hoping for one of the embers to fall into his hand and sizzle with burning warmth.
The crowd cheers and gasps at each pop and crackle, at each new shape. Animals bound across the sky, stars shoot up to create constellations of sparks, giant hearts encompass the night sky. It’s magic to his inner child. It’s magic to him.
He will always have a soft spot for these kind of things. Never an ill memory with them, the little pops of light could keep him fixated for hours. He leans on Kazuha’s shoulder, grasping Alhaitham’s hand as they sat on the hillside in the damp grass, huddled together in their yukatas. Kazuha turns and places a commanding hand on his chin, gently guiding him so their lips can meet in the middle. He shuts his eyes for a moment, letting the taste linger like the happiness he feels in his chest. This was a moment to keep locked in his mind forever.
He wishes for a moment that Nahida was here. He knows she has her responsibilities in Sumeru, he knows she can’t just throw away her job and go on break like the other two could. However, he knows that their little family would feel so much fuller if she were here. He knows she’d especially enjoy butterfly shaped fireworks that seemed to mimic the same fluttering their wings did.
The last few shoot though the sky, popping ceremoniously to finish off the grandiose presentation. The crowds surrounding the area whoop and cheer, applauding raucously as everything fades to darkness again.
People begin standing, ready to go continue browsing the festivities, even possibly make their way home. The air had gotten cooler as the heat of the show dimmed down, as the adrenaline and excitement dwindled and calmed. He finds he’s not really ready to go yet.
“Come on Kuni, time to go.” Kazuha beckons, offering a hand.
“Um, I’ll catch up with you,” He mumbled, “I need a second.”
“Alright.” Kazuha managed a small smile, accepting it almost immediately. That was something strange about him. He didn’t care for his weird quirks.
LIfting his head, he watched the fake stars twinkle, dancing amongst the inky black. His hands clenched the blades of grass beneath his sandals as he gripped where his heart was meant to be. He never wants this feeling to end. He wants the simple bliss of this moment to stick forever.
“Kuni! There you are!” At the sound of his name he turned to see who was calling out to him.
“Did you like them, Kuni?” Yoimiya pops out from practically nowhere, beaming as she held a sparkler in her right hand. It crackled and popped in the wind, sparks flying off around them, illuminating their faces in the dark.
“Yeah,” He breathes, for once speechless, no snarky remark, “They were…”
“They reminded me of…something nice.” He finishes lamely, lips sealing shut as he contemplates
“I’m so, so glad!” Yoimiya squealed, jumping up and down flapping her hands, “Have fun for the rest of the night! I gotta go catch some others, see ya Kuni!”
She’s bolted off before he can mumble any goodbye back, now ranting happily to a girl with blue hair. Kuni sighs, running to catch up with his family who were further down the hill.
A successful night, he garners. He hopes to sleep peacefully tonight.
-
“Kabukimono!”
Kabuki whipped his head to see Niwa calling to him, hands cupped over his mouth. He grinned, waddling over, dusting the dirt off his toes, the grass blades tickling his ankles. Niwa smiled warmly as he led him up the path into the village.
“We’re about to have dinner, but I reckon later tonight I could show you some more forging techniques, how about it?” Kabuki’s eyes glistened at the mention. Any time spent with Niwa was a pleasure.
“Of course!” Kabuki cheered, “I’d be happy to learn from you.”
Niwa ruffled his hair good-naturedly, letting his fingers linger before continuing up the road. Kabuki giggled, trailing behind. The air was colder that evening, nipping at his cheeks as they trailed up the hill. That evening, the sun had dipped slowly beneath the cliffs, angling perfectly
“We should get Escher to bring that new kamera of his to capture this sunset.”
Kabuki stuck his tongue out in mock disgust, “Never liked the guy.”
Niwa stared at him in shock before his shoulders scrunched up as he laughed, “Nah, me neither.”
“Now come on, before the dinner gets cold.”
-
“Niwa, who’s your family?”
The hammering stopped as the smouldering flames dim from the opening of the furnace, black coal simmering in the brick. Niwa hummed noncommittally, biting the inside of his cheek.
“Well, I have my mother and father, they’re my family. I had an older brother but who knows where he’s gone now. And…”
“I suppose I have you, Kabukimono.”
Kabuki squeaked out a noise of surprise, almost hammering his thumb with his mallet before Niwa intercepted and gently restrained his wrist. He cocked his head, “I’m your family?”
NIwa laughed good naturedly, “Well yeah, I guess we’re a little closer than most, hey?”
“But, we aren’t related. I’m a puppet. You’re a human.” He frowned, pouting as he tried to make sense of Niwa’s words. Niwa took the mallet out of Kuni’s hands and leant on the wooden table behind them.
“Family isn’t always those who are related to you by blood Kabuki. Although that’s a lesson that takes time to learn.”
Kabukimono mulled this over in his head for a bit, before finally coming up with, “Does that mean I get to call you family too?”
Niwa smiled fondly, slinging an arm around his shoulder, “Of course.”
-
The furnace reeked of burnt chemicals and sticky corruption that pooled at his ankles. He clutched the purification device close to his chest, thrumming beneath his fingers as he peered into the murk.
The air is thick, pushing all around him as the heat festered and his body crackled in the embers.
Tataratsuna relied on him. He would save them. He would. The filth that stained the furnace would be no more and the people would no longer suffer the illness that flooded the island. His family would be safe.
Just as he could feel his insides collapsing, his body finally succumbing to the corruption too, a blinding white light pierced the darkness coating the inside. Suddenly, everything around him quietens, his senses weren’t being assaulted left and right. Finally, he took a breath like the people of Tataratsuna taught him to do, he saw that it didn’t put pressure on his built in lungs and he saw that the furnace was purified, and somehow he survived the mess of that situation.
Next thing he knew he’s opening the tiny box holding what purified the furnace. Peeling back the cover, he almost gagged at the sight. A shrivelled, withered heart, dried and soaked in all the filth.
He clambered out of the furnace and fell to his ashen knees on the scraggly grass. Escher was waiting for him at the bottom, smiling as he patted him on the back, even with that sinister nature around him. Kabukimono asked innocently why exactly he held a dead heart in the palm of his hand.
And Escher would bear the fruits of the truth, that Niwa was a liar, a fraud, a murderer, that he was his second betrayal. Escher would feed him the dirt of lies and would’ve told him it’s the decadent, ripened fruits of the truth, told him that this is reality and he must live with it.
Kabuki would flee. And that was that.
-
Waking up from a nightmare will never be a pleasant experience. Most people could agree with that fact. However, could Kuni even call this a nightmare?
Sweat is plastered to his forehead, fingers curled tightly around the duvet as he pants softly in the quiet of their room. Kazuha sleeps soundly beside him, the steady rise and fall of his chest bringing some relief to him.
Usually, when he’d wake up from a nightmare, Nahida would be there beside him immediately. Her body would softly glow green in the dark as she gently guides Kuni back to bed, tucking the blanket back over his trembling figure as she croons a lullaby softly into the night. Drowsiness would overtake him, his eyelids drooping as Nahida would gently sift her fingers through his hair, looking out the window as if keeping watch for any danger. He’d softly sigh as sleep would take him again, this time in a gentle wave, scooping him up and letting him float pleasantly in the mindless, blissful dreams Nahida had conjured for him rather than casted in harsh, jagged whirlpools of the past. Distantly he’d wonder if this is what regular children would"ve experienced when they were young.
He’d dream of endless plains of viparyas swaying in the breeze, the petals tickling his ankles as he lay peacefully among their stems, watching as the sky turned violet as evening dawned upon his dreamworld. He’d dream of forest escapades, running his hands along coarse bark, sinking his toes into mud, following the flashes of green and orange deeper into the forest. He’d dream of mellow aranara melodies and flickering paper lanterns and tables full of food.
Kuni would dream of everything good and he’d wake up almost forgetting he’d had had a nightmare in the first place.
Now, Kuni only has the cold, bitter embrace of the evening’s gale and the soft puffs of Kazuha’s warm breath to console him. Night drifts on yet he’s the only one who can’t lay still, restless with thoughts and resentment.
Not wanting to wake Kazuha, slowly he lifts the covers and rises from the floor. Leaning back he places a placid kiss on the crown of Kazuha’s head as a little goodbye. Kazuha only sniffs mildly, sleeping on peacefully. Kuni hopes he’s having nice dreams. Padding out the door, he takes his hat and leaves.
The good thing about having Nahida around was that she made sure his thoughts didn’t stray too far after nightmares. She’d have whisked him up in her arms before he could even dare entertaining the pessimistic thoughts plaguing his brain.
Now it was just him and the empty streets of Inazuma. It was much too late for anyone to really be around except for the odd one or two. The moon wasn’t at its peak still it made its presence to be known, shining dim, milky rays down onto the sleeping city.
Silence, although a great thing, often tells the brain that it is something it needs to fill. Silence is often a sign to the brain that there is a gaping hole that needs to be occupied by and dealt with, whether that be with music or humming or talking, or perhaps the focus on thoughts. As of now, his thoughts were wild and torrential, bouncing off the sides of his mind.
There had been many nights such as these, many days such as these. His thoughts were never containable things.
He needs something to take his anger out on, he needs a punching bag, something to keep him seething and toppling over. He knows it’s not a good thing, anger was never the right emotion, yet it’s all he can feel as the betrayal runs thick like bile in his throat, in his mind. He thinks of all the times he’s felt it. Abandoned as a child, left to rot in the damp grass beneath a cave, in front of a domain. Who had listened to him cry? Who had been there to lift him up to his unsteady feet again? Who was there to hush his pitiful cries and tell him that he was okay, that he wasn’t faulty or useless?
When Tataratsuna fell, who was there to stop the crisis? Who was there to stop Dottore? Who was there to notice the imminent disease and filth ruminating beneath the soil?
When the little fledgling he had befriended became sicker and sicker, who was there to watch him closely as he went out to find medicine? Who was there to hold the boy’s hand as death overcame him? Who was there to take care of the both of them, to be the family they both so desperately needed?
Nobody. Nobody had ever came in his life, nobody had ever been there when things got to be their hardest, when things spiralled and all he had was the disgusting puppet body he was cursed with.
Despite everything he did, despite it all, it all crumbled. Everything he had ever loved, ever trusted, ripped away from him, torn away as all of them left him behind to rot. He can still see their diminishing backsides
Back when he stayed in Tataratsuna, the people had entrusted him as their last hope to rally help down by the island because of his status. He had left to visit Ei, hopefully to be granted permission due to the golden feather hung loosely around his neck. He was their shining light, their beacon of hope, a sign that maybe things would be okay.
But what he was met with was a stony cold version of his mother, eyes glazed over in an emotionless haze. She refused to meet him. It’s only now he realises it was the Shogun who had met him.
Guuji Yae had seen him instead. All he saw in her was a complete lack of care towards him and his home, being gouged inside out by corruption. All he saw in her was utter apathy and a mild annoyance at the nuisance he was making in such a political time. He had tried so hard, yet he was met with the equivalent of a brick wall. Did the people she promised come? No. They never showed.
He may not have the courage to confront his mother just yet. That was a moment for later. However, seeing the distant splash of red sitting atop of Mount Yougou, the Narukami shrine, he knew there was at least one person he could talk to. One person he could take the pleasure of throwing every grievance she had taken against him back at her.
-
(Deep down he knows Yae is not a bad person.
Deep down he knows he’s overexaggerating her apathy, her lack of bemusement to everything. He knows she is most likely a changed woman. Inazuma had changed without him. People had changed without him.
Yet, rage was an ugly emotion. What is one to do when it spills and topples over like an overflowing wine glass? Are they meant to sit and watch it trickle? Or do they gulp every last bit of it down with greed?)
-
On his trek up Mount Yougou, he stops at the bottom of the last flight of stairs leading to the shrine. A kitsune sits to the side of the stone path, it’s fur tangerine orange and it’s eyes pale green and beady, watching him observantly from the shadows. It tilts its head in miffed curiosity before slinking away. It’s as if it knows.
Over the years he’s been gone, the shrine had been something to stand the test of time, still upholding its traditional structure and design, although a bit weathered and worn. Each torii gate he walked under felt his laboured breath as he grinded his teeth, each paper lantern felt the ground tremble as he trudged up the worn stone path, each silver awning saw the glint of red that flared across his face.
Why is he angry? Why does his chest burn so ferociously under his pallid skin? Why does everything feel heavy and sluggish around him and why does everything buzz loudly in his ears as if heightening with the fury refusing to be quelled in his stomach?
He sees the glint of mischief and pure, utter, apathy flashing in a kitsune’s eyes and he remembers why.
His first family gone, why, because that goddamn Kitsune who couldn’t even spare a few men to aid an entire island collapsing at the hands of that wretched doctor. Wretched things the lot of them were. All of it, an elaborate tapestry of lies and deceit lying at his feet. Who came to save him? Who came to save Niwa? Who came to save the people of Tataratsuna as sickness and poison bled into their systems? Nobody, nobody.
Nobody comes. Nobody.
He remembers back when he was a Harbinger, coming face to face with Guuji Yae once more. In her hand she had dangled the gnosis right in front of his greedy little eyes. Her lips had tugged into a coy smile as she saw the way he hungered for such a thing. Immediately, all matters of the past were forgiven, because that gnosis was the most crucial step for him to become God. To seize back what was his.
Now though, that gnosis means nothing. He no longer has it, nor no longer craves for it hungrily like a stray child staring at the meagre scraps hanging from a bin. He wonders if she could’ve given up that stupid gnosis so easy, then what else did she give up on?
The shrine had a quiet nature to it, people wander around in a hushed reverence, collecting fortune slips from a counter, praying to the shrines, admiring the views from the red balconies overlooking Inazuma. Shrine maidens hurry around busily, attending to their duties. He sighs, stepping through the threshold and letting his eyes wander over the place. Nobody bats an eye towards him.
After scanning the area, his eyes land directly on a lady on the opposite side of him, pink hair cascading down her back, her ears twitching as a maiden speaks to her in hushed tones. Her back is turned towards him, shoulders relaxed yet still poised. Her laugh echoes through the space, and he has to bite back the urge to immediately launch into the air and slash his windblade through her unassuming back.
Yae Miko had always hated him. The last day he ever saw her, the day they so briefly conversed as she handed over Ei’s gnosis to him. She’s hated him.
He has enough of just standing stationary and decides he’s going to set things right. He stomps over in a stroke of impulsivity, his impending footsteps alerting her of his arrival. She turns and eyes him curiously as he glowers at her.
“What do you know of the Tataratsuna incident?” He chokes out, hands trembling as he glares coldly at Yae. Future him would have strangled him by the throat from the sheer second-hand embarrassment. Her eyes cloud over with confusion and caution, overlaying the usual mischievous look in her eyes. Her hands which were previously busy cross over her body.
“Tataratsuna? Well,” She muses, getting straight to the point, “It happened a long time ago didn’t it? Tataratsuna was betrayed, an insider had tampered with the Mikage furnace causing everyone to get sick. It was too late when I heard about it, besides Ei said–”
“That’s not true.” He seethed, “None of it, you–”
He curled his hands together, bunched them into his shirt to quell the urge to lash out. He trembled with a tumultuous rage that wrecked him inside out. Adrenaline was at a high as he stared the Priestess down. Every other shrine maiden watched the interaction with a sense of foreboding danger. They knew him to be a danger, yet he didn’t care .
“You said you’d send people, they never came.” He muttered slowly, then louder, “You said you’d help Tataratsuna and you didn’t! You didn’t care!”
He screwed his eyes shut, his fingers itching and drumming the side of his leg as he tried oh so desperately to keep his emotions at bay. If he didn’t, who knows what would be left of this beautiful shrine? Of flaky red wood and scattered sakura petals, of a broken lie bestowed upon who was meant to be holy.
“I don’t recall ever being told to send people?” Miko questioned concernedly, “Who are you? What business do you intend?”
His heart, his heart , lodges in his throat and thumps wildly. His vision is blurred and his mind is whirling at speeds barely comprehensible to any sane human. They flash with no accord, all sense of morality and common sense slipping through the cracks. So much so that he whips around and peels the hair that fans from his neck.
Yae gasps softly as she spots the marking. It thrums and flickers cerulean, the jagged edges of the electro symbol clear as day. It is a symbol he’d rather not draw attention to, but perhaps it’s the adrenaline or the pure unadulterated frustration that runs amok in his veins. Somehow he’s brought attention to the very thing that connects him to the very thing he loathes, the very thing he resents.
(the very thing he misses.)
“You’re one of Ei’s things…” Miko murmurs, fingers tentatively raised to cover her mouth as she stares on dismay, “but, that must mean you’re…”
“Failed.” He hisses, “one of her faulty projects. I asked to see her and you saw me instead. I asked for help and nobody came. Do you see my anger?”
“Didn’t I give away…” Yae ponders for a moment, “I’ve met you before then.”
He nods, biting back his tongue and letting his hair fall back into place. Such a rash move, yet he could care less. Let them remember. Let them remember their mistakes.
“Oh…” Yae realises, “You.”
“Kunikuzushi. You’re back.”
He inhales, exhales, “Yes, I am.”
“Did you not try and destroy Inazuma with your accomplices? You and your little organisation?”
“That was long ago.” He bites “I’m not with the Fatui anymore.”
Yae presses her lips into a thin line, “I’ll take your word for it”
He has a feeling she doesn’t all that well trust him. He doesn’t seem to care.
“And you…asked me to send people to Tataratsuna? And I didn’t?”
“Yes, exactly that.” He chokes out. He stops breathing, it becomes too laborious a task considering how tense the air felt, “I’m angry with you. I’m expressing my anger. That’s all. It’s too late now.”
Yae Miko is silent for a minute. He counts each second that her frown deepens and her mind ticks. He counts the whispers and the pairs of eyes trained on the pair of them.
“I did send people.” She says finally, and that makes Kuni want to laugh. Why lie after all this time has passed? Why lie through the skin of your teeth when you were the one to be furthest away from the tragedy? From the epicentre of downfall? “Here’s how I remember it;”
“A puppet had come to Inazuma with a golden feather, and had requested to see Baal. However, this was during the peak of our political transition, in which the shogun was overtaking Ei’s role. I had come to speak to you, despite it all. I had sent people, yet they all had come back, telling me no real threat had occurred. That’s the story I have. What is yours, Kunikuzushi?”
He stifled the glower on his face at the name, “Nobody came. Clearly your memory is faulty, you don’t remember it as well as I did.”
“It may have been a hectic time for Inazuma, but us Kitsune do not forget so easily,” Yae refutes him coldly, “Look, accuse me all you want, but all I know is that I sent men to Tataratsuna, those men came back saying they had only met a Fontaine mechanic there. Nobody else. Not you, not the Niwa clan, nobody.”
He’s about to bite back and retort when suddenly, a part of that sentence stops him still. They had only met a Fontaine mechanic. The only other person…
“Escher…oh fuck him…” He seethes, angry but all for different reasons now.
Why, oh why did it always circle back to that terrible man? Why was everything his fault? Why was everything ruined by that insidious, hideous shell of a person? Kuni may be a far cry from being human, but he is even further, a beast underneath all that clothing.
All he can imagine is the twisting face of the Doctor, crudely contorting in his mind as rage simmers beneath his skin. That cold, sinister smile, piercing like a serrated blade in the cold light. It’s always him and that stupid mask, always one step ahead, always lurking in the furthest parts of his memories, always in the shadow as he slowly crumbled everything around Kuni that made him happy.
“-ni? Kuni?”
Glancing up, he sees Yae staring at him, mildly worried as she tries to garner his attention.
“Sorry,” He whispered, “I…know now it’s not your fault.”
Apologies were never easy for him. It took him a month to truly apologise to Nahida upfront, and two more for him to apologise to the traveller after nearly killing him as the Balladeer. For some odd reason, the apologies always stuck to his throat when they mattered, the important ones anyway. He could apologise for a sarcastic comment or a horribly timed comment, but for these things? The apologies came out skewered and mumbled, never right.
Still, it felt right at this moment.
“Apologising for once? What a twist of events,” Yae chuckled in amusement, “It’s quite alright, these things would get me angry too.”
He nods, everything twisting to a stagnant still, an uneasy silence. People seem to have regained their basic manners and learnt to mind their own business. It’s just him and Yae now under the overhang.
“I’ll…take my leave now,” Kuni sighed out, “Please don’t tell Ei about this.”
She nods understandingly. “Alright. I hope today has given you the answers you needed.”
He spins on his heel, tipping his hat lower to obscure his face. That entire ordeal had not only left him tired, but leaving with more rage than before, all for a different person. The dread festering in his stomach only grew.
“I never hated you, Kunikuzushi,”
Kuni stops, eyes trained to the floor, “I never wished you any ill intent. I had always genuinely hoped you would find your own way in this world. Perhaps you already have, and I’m a bit behind.”
She giggles, turning a corner and slinking off. Shakily, he stalks off once more, his mind swarming yet his chest, lighter without the weight of vengeance.
-
“Are you alright, love?”
Midnight bears the weight of unanswered questions and ever pressing thoughts. Loud in the calm of the night. Somehow, it is midnight again, despite him just remembering it. Kuni sits by the wooden desk in their small room, fingers clenched tightly around a quill, knuckles deathly white. He forces himself to keep his eyes as he stares down at the increasingly blurry paper below him. Kazuha stares at him blearily from their shared futon, evidently also trying to stay awake for him.
For some reason, his need for mortal necessities have been increasing ever since his stay in Sumeru. He finds himself losing his breath a little more despite the fact that he can simply stop breathing whenever he felt like it. He finds his stomach grumbling, craving for his favourite foods at the most inconvenient times of day. Sleep clings to him like a parasite, tiring him out, forcing him to shut his eyes and let time slip by.
“What makes you think I’m not?” Kuni mutters under his breath, dipping his quill in the ink pot for the seventh time, yet still leaving nothing on the parchment. He needs to write this letter. He has too.
“You look half on the verge of sleep, your hands are concerningly shaky, and you seem overly tense. Something is going through that pretty head of yours.”
He ignores his compliment, “I’m fine. Puppets don’t need sleep anyway, and I’m sure it’s just your imagination making you believe I look any different than usual.”
“Kuni, please,” Kazuha pleads with him, stares at his back with those soft, sympathetic eyes, “You left so early this morning, and you came back trembling and silent. I had thought it was just you being overstimulated, since you seemed fine during dinner, but now you seem even worse. What’s wrong, please?”
It’s true. When he had come back, he had shut the door quickly behind him, eyes trained to the floor after the entire ordeal at the shrine. Kazuha was the only one home, scribbling miscellaneous haiku ideas across a notepad. He had watched Kuni as he had slowly hung his hat up on the hooks by the door, took each shoe off one by one, painfully slow, and paced the room in some anxious trance. Kazuha had called out to him, and he had hummed in acknowledgement, yet still continued to walk until he reached his room and collapsed onto the floor, the futons already put away courtesy to Kazuha.
He had thought, and thought, and thought, replayed the entire conversation in his head as if it were on a cassette tape on loop. Silently, he paced the room, trying to calm himself down, trying to place his thoughts in order. He tried to ignore the way his hands wrung nervously over each other, how everything around him seemed so pressingly loud and offensive when all it was was him and his empty room. Maybe he was a tad bit overstimulated.
When dinner came, he had calmed down to a degree. The laughter at the table, the stupid topics of conversation, and the grounding pressure of Kazuha’s hand on his had taken away some of the day’s weight. It had distracted him enough to leave him feeling content in the space they had. Returning to their respective rooms is where the problem came. Seeing the blank paper sitting innocently on the low sitting desk of their room, he had been ignited by an urge, a flame. Much to Kazuha’s disagreement, he had turned down the offer to cuddle in bed, to opt to write a letter that would never leave his pocket in the near future anyway.
Kuni is silent as he realises how shit the day has been. How Kazuha is most certainly right (like he always is about these things).
“Come to bed at least?”
Kazuha’s voice is gooey and honey-like, wrapping around him gently. Unlike the thoughts in his mind, jagged and harsh and seemingly inescapable, Kazuha offers him a way out, tempting as sleep tugs him further and further into drowsiness.
Sighing in defeat, he blew out the tiny candle lighting up the desk and left the quill to rest in its holder. Sluggishly, he crawls into bed, Kazuha welcoming him under the blanket.
“I’m so tired,” He “Everything I’ve believed is a lie. I…”
Kazuha shushes him, tucking the blanket over his shoulder and pulling him close, peppering kisses across his face. Gingerly, he tucks a bit of straying hair out of the way and kisses the bridge of his nose, lips warm against the smooth cold.
“Just sleep, this can be a topic for the morning that comes.” Kazuha tightens his firm grip. Kuni melts in his hold, letting himself relax. There is nothing comparable to the bliss he feels in Kazuha’s hold, the peace as his thoughts quieten and slumber wraps around him tightly like Kazuha’s arms.
-
Dear Dottore,
Do you feel some sort of sick pleasure ruining people’s life? Is it fun? A little hobby you indulge in every now and then to make yourself feel better about your own miserable life? A casual pastime that you dabble in because sometimes, experimenting on poor innocent creatures like myself, like every other human you’ve held captive, gets a little too boring for you?
Well, great fucking job Dottore. You’ve successfully garnered the fact that you’ll achieve no real happiness in this twisted life of yours. All you have is the manic of destruction you like to label as ecstasy. I know true bliss, and it is not what you have experienced. You will never experience it. You don’t deserve it anyway.
I have spent almost my whole life resenting and hating the innocent. People who never wished me any wrong. I have spent my whole life seeking vengeance to those who wronged me. I loathed the gods, yet I could never trust humans. You seemed to fuel that obsession, so much so that when I became a God, I had also experienced that manic feeling of destruction you so very much feed off of. Yet now I realise almost all of it is your fault. Even if you were not there, you still fuelled this sick, twisted part of me to kill, to loathe, to control. You deceived me, you talked me up then pushed me down. You destroyed nations. You ruined lives. You made me a monster, just as you are. I hate you for that. I despise you.
I know that I am no saint. I know that I am far from being human, from being someone somebody can look at and see a good person. Still everything inside me festers, and I know deep down that no matter how much I run, my past will never ever leave me. But I know that despite that I am still better than you. I am not as much of a beast as you are. I am lowly compared to those around me, but you are somebody equivalent to a mere worm grovelling in dirt, writhing in the muck you have surrounded yourself in.
I know I am better. And you may laugh and say that the people around me will eventually leave, that I’ll come running back to you one day and beg for you to take me in again, to make me a God again. But to that I tell you kindly; Fuck Off.
The people around me love me, and I know it. You’ll never experience this love for you are too twisted and broken for it. Although I still have a hard time believing it, I know for a fact it’s the truth, for why would they have stayed this long? Why would they smile at me the way they do?
This won’t matter to you though. If this letter were ever to be sent you’d probably pick it up and cackle at the first sentence, you’d lick your lips as you’d delectably drink up the pain and misery I pour into this letter. I don’t care. Laugh all you want. These are my words not yours. When have you ever taken me seriously anyway?
I am angry with you. I have been adamant in saying that I am trying to not seek vengeance out on other people anymore. But for you, that might just have to change. One day, I’ll find you, I’ll catch you unassuming in that wretched, ghastly lab of yours and I’ll wedge a blade so deep inside you that for once you’ll feel the burn of pain. I know that will not be enough to kill you, so I intend to keep going. I’ll draw a sword and hack at your limbs just as you did to me. I’ll steal one of your scalpels and I’ll dig it deep into your chest just as you did to me. I’ll grab your skull and twist it further and further to see how far it goes, just as you did to me. Then you’ll feel pain, you’ll feel what I endured under your hand, you will feel shame as you are ripped apart, just as I did.
A beautiful dream, is it not?
- Kunikuzushi, your dear Balladeer
-
“Oh look how cute these are!”
It’s a sunny day in Inazuma. Kaveh holds up four different wooden keychains, all with various wooden prints stamped onto the rectangular slab of wood. Tiny beads of different colours hang from the keychains, Kaveh having expertly picked out colours to match them.
“We need to get these! As little souvenirs!” Kaveh cheers excitedly like a little child,
“Splurging his money once again, like always.” Alhaitham rolled his eyes, watching as Kaveh opened his hand-embroidered coin pouch (also bought as a souvenir) and handed over money to the kind old lady running the shop. He hands each key chain over enthusiastically. At least he was in high spirits.
When Kuni is handed his, his nose scrunches as he looks at the design. A tiny indigo kitten sitting amongst a field of Naku weeds. Its face looks mildly irked.
“Hey, what kinda joke is this?” He dangled the keychain from his finger, showing off the design. He spots Kazuha to the side trying to stifle bouts of laughter. He’ll deal with him later, “Why do I get this design?”
“Aw, but Kuni!” Kaveh whines jokingly, “indigo is your colour though! I can’t possibly give that key chain to someone else, it would ruin the balance!”
“Fuck you.” He hisses, shoving the chain in his pocket and stalking off behind Alhaitham, who had turned up the noise cancelling function on his headphones and had continued reading as he walked. Somehow he still managed to dodge every passerby standing in his way. He hears Kaveh happily hum to himself as he thanks the old lady and follows the two of them.
The market district teems with life. Sunny Saturday afternoons meant perfect opportunities for families to go on walks, to do their weekly grocery shopping, to pick out new clothes for their kids and browse new items in stock. He doesn’t blame Alhaitham for turning his noise-cancelling function up, the crowds were full of chatter and distant conversations. Still, that doesn’t stop him from hearing a distinctly shrill voice cut above the crowd’s drone, very clearly hearing hurried footsteps behind him as well as a strident Oh My Archons! Look over there!
He knows that voice.
“Kazuha! Kuni!” Kuni turns to see a familiar pair walking towards them, a certain traveller and his little companion wandering behind them. Kaveh and Alhaitham also seem to notice the loud commotion Paimon was making, both turning around too. “And…”
“Alhaitham and Kaveh?!” Paimon shrieks, “What in Teyvat are you two doing here?”
“Oh you know, just taking in the different architecture–”
“Second Honeymoon.”
“Oh honestly what is it with you and that phrase? I’m sure I’ve heard you say it five times in this week alone!-”
“There they go again,” Kuni sighed exasperatedly.
“Huh. To think you all know each other. What a weird turn of events!”
“It’s good to see you Paimon, we were actually here on a holiday of sorts.” Kazuha grinned.
“Oh, a holiday! That seems fun!”
“Hope you two are enjoying it. You all especially seem to need breaks.” Aether manages quietly. The irony of Aether of all people saying that.
“So what brings you two back to Inazuma? I thought you were headed to Fontaine soon?” Kazuha inquired. Kuni stayed to the back, face as nonchalant as ever.
“We were actually doing some commissions around here for some mora, but those get tiring after a while so we came to the city to unwind a little!”
Aether taps Paimon on the back, signing something behind her back. She squawks indignantly when he finishes signing, huffing as she turns away from a smug Aether.
“Well obviously being your personal travel guide has it’s tiring aspects too!” Paimon retorts, “And we aren’t even seeing Ei until way later, we still have tons of time to kill!”
Hearing Ei’s name makes his spine go somewhat rigid. It’s not an avoidable thing, but sometimes it caught him by surprise. What really piqued his interest however, was the fact they were going to visit her.
“You’re visiting Ei?” Kuni questioned a little too casually.
“Yep!” Paimon affirmed, “We have meetings with her sometimes, just to chat about stuff!”
Never in his life had he heard of his mother inviting people over just to ‘chat.’ There was always reasoning, duties, things she buried herself in before she gave herself the liberty to chat. Still, it’s not like he were the one around to take her out of her Plane of Euthymia.
“Do you think…” He furrowed his eyebrows. He couldn’t lie, he was a little bit curious about his mother. Despite all the warning bells blaring in his mind, he poses the question, “Do you think I can come with you?”
Aether straightens in surprise, Paimon’s eyes widen. Kazuha at least hides it well, only the downturn of his lips being the evident telltale sign of concern.
“Are… you sure?” Aether questioned quietly, “You don’t have to.”
“I just…want to see how she is.” He gnaws on his lip. Not even he knows if that’s the truth.
Paimon shrugs, “Well, if you really want to.”
Aether still looks slightly worried. He was the only one to remember him after the initial wipe of him from history. He was the only one who had been there at his worst times and remembered. Still, concern lay heavy on his brow.
“Meet us in front of Tenshukaku at 3-ish, alright?” Kuni gives an awkwardly thrown thumbs up just as they begin walking away.
“Are you sure you want to do that Kuni?” Kazuha whispered worriedly, “You don’t have to, you know. Don’t push yourself to something you’re uncomfortable with.”
“I need to.” He grits out. He doesn’t miss the way Kazuha’s face furrows impossibly with unadulterated concern. He doesn’t miss the way he stands unsure whether to stop him or to just let him go, just this once.
-
“Kuni!”
Kuni’s already ten paces from the door when Kaveh comes running after him. His face is deadly serious, grim almost as he extends his palm, showing the key chain that he had bought for them all earlier.
“Just, take it with you. A good luck charm from all of us.”
Kuni twists it over slowly to find the back, once plain and shiny with wax, had now been carved into with the names of not only Kaveh, but Alhaitham and Kazuha too. He stares at it for a long time, the neat legible writing of Kazuha’s to the extravagant cursive of Kaveh’s. He traces the letters before placing it into his pocket.
“Thank you.” He replies. That"s all he can say. No I love yous or anything like that. Kaveh knows it’s enough already.
Kaveh pulls him into a bone crushing hug. His arms wrap securely around his shoulders, his arms lingering for just a moment longer than they should have. Kuni sighs, tentatively hugging back, wrapping his arms loosely around his waist. Perhaps he could stay there forever, stuck in Kaveh’s familiar embrace.
But they have to let go at some point. Kuni has to confront his past and all his trauma, unwind it all in just one afternoon. And Kaveh…well, Kaveh had to make dinner.
Kuni clutches the wooden chain in his pocket, grip so viscerally tight it might’ve snapped into splinters. The afternoon wind touches him languidly, curling around him as he stared off into the distance, stared at Tenshukaku looming in the distance.
He carries on, with only the wooden chain to remind him that this is not his end.
-
Trailing behind the traveller, the walk to Tenshukaku is a stifling one. His hat obscures the clouded look of anxiety that reeks from his expression. He curls his hands into fists and swallows the dread collecting in his throat. Paimon rambles on noisily in that high-pitched voice of hers, he rolls his eyes.
There’s a small tap on his shoulder. Glancing over, the traveller is staring him down with curious yet worried eyes. He’s always been the more observant of the travelling pair.
"Are you okay?" The traveller signs. It’s a good thing Alhaitham taught him how to sign. The two had fallen behind Paimon, trailing the little pixie.
"I’m fine. Just tired." He lies.
Aether frowns at that, "There’s more to it than that, I won’t pry but it’s always good to let your feelings out. It’s just me and you."
"Why are you being so caring?" Kuni huffed, it was easy talking about his past with him, more convenient at least, "I literally tried to kill you. I must’ve given you trauma somewhere along the way."
Aether giggles, and Paimon casts a sceptical look his way, “Are you guys chatting without Paimon again?”
“Whether we are or not, you should keep your little nose out of other’s business.” Kuni jeered. Paimon turns back around moodily, mumbling something about not being little.
"Anyway," He continues signing, "you have given me some…unpleasant memories, yes. But that doesn’t mean I don’t care for you now."
"Too trusting," Kuni blanches as he signs, "So naive."
"So, do you want to talk about it?" Aether perseveres, despite Kuni’s lack of cooperation. "It"s about Ei, isn’t it?"
He appreciates Aether not using the word Mother in his sentence, "I’m just a bit anxious. Will she remember me after all these years? Will she care for my sufferings? "
"A valid concern," Aether nods, "I worry about the same things too. You know, with my sibling and all."
"I guess I also want…closure, in a way? "
Aether nods again, letting the words sink in, "I will be there with you. Whatever she says, I know it might hurt, but I know from experience that you are already strong enough to deal with it."
"Just know that not all family are what we know them as, and that we don’t have to forgive them straight up."
Kuni hums, wringing his hands together and smiling mildly at Aether as if to thank him.
“We’re here!”
The large door of the palace stands overhead. Two sliding doors that stand between him and his creator. Two sliding doors that will open and reveal his very first residence, the very first place he dared to call home. His birthplace.
Today is the day Kuni faces it. Today is the day he glances his last goodbye to what was once home, very distantly, very long ago.
-
“Oh Ei! We’ve come to see you!” Paimon hollers from across the room, and Kuni has to refrain from blocking his ears at the sheer pitch of her tone. Another thing he appreciated about Aether, he didn’t holler on the top of his lungs in enclosed spaces, especially when the only other person is literally five feet away.
Five feet away. She stands.
Ei still looks the same after centuries. It’s to be expected of course, the gift (curse?) of immortality meant that nothing about your features ever changed. You were trapped at an age forever. It’s no surprise she looks the same.
“Traveller, Paimon,” She manages a small smile and a nod. Her eyes land on him, violet eyes piercing through his figure, his body shakes with tremors under her gaze, “And who might you be?”
He gulps, forces the words to travel up his throat, straightens his back as he chokes out with increasing effort, “Wanderer. I’m just here to accompany the Traveller.”
She nods understandingly, turning her attention back to the pair. He almost sags in relief at the diversion of attention, “If he is a friend of the traveller, then I trust him.”
The three of them talk about various things of varying importance. The political state of Inazuma, the concerning cases of different islands, the traveller’s, well, travels. They crowd together in a circle even though they have the entire room to themselves. It’s quite the sight.
Watching his mother happily converse with people, to seem so happy while forgetting his complete existence, hurts him.
Why does it still hurt him? After all this time of hating and loathing her, of all the centuries being apart from her, not even thinking to spare a thought towards her, now he feels hurt just watching her talk to someone. He stands there, her son, stands there in the same room as her, yet she doesn’t even glance at him. Doesn’t even acknowledge everything even after all these years.
(It’s his fault really. He made the executive decision to erase himself from everyone"s memories. He decided he wasn’t worth existing anymore. He rewrote history, he covered everything, convinced everybody that he were a blank slate, when really, all he had done was scrub the ink off the paper and cleaned the carvings off the stone. He hadn’t truly done anything. Everything was just remembered differently. It’s his fault for tampering with the world’s memories. It’s his fault for being a coward like his mother always thought him to be.)
“Wanderer! We’re ready to head out now!” Paimon flutters beside him, sparkling with excitement, “Aether said he was treating us to some yummy food!”
“Oh?” He tries to mask the evident uneasiness in his tone, “How amusing. I’d be delighted.”
Aether rolls his eyes, raising his hands, "I don’t trust that tone."
“Bye Ei! See you later!” Ei waves back politely, watching the trio chatter.
They turn to walk out, Kuni feeling the ache in his stomach weigh him down. As much as he appreciates Aether’s gesture, he really couldn’t stomach anything at that moment.
The hairs on the back of his neck bristle uneasily, his back feels like it’s being watched attentively. In the most casual way he could possibly muster, he reaches up a hand to scratch at his neck, possibly to alleviate the freakish feeling.
His neck thrums with his breath, he traces over the hairs that outline his neck, feeling the grooves of the electro mark–
Oh archons. The mark.
“Wanderer, was it?”
Oh please, spare him. He knew it was always visible, he didn’t care. He didn’t know it would backfire on him, his carelessness. Stiffly he turns and faces her. Her dull eyes bore into his. He might just throw up right about now.
“Do you mind staying behind? I want to talk to you about something, er, privately.”
The traveller and Paimon spare wary glances at each other, “Actually–”
“Erm, sure,” He blurts out impulsively, “Just, eat without me. I’ll eat at home later. Don’t worry about me.”
He can see the way Aether hesitates in his step, lingers as he nods slowly, only moving terribly slowly as to show there was still a chance, a way out. Kuni declines it.
Now it’s just the two of them, face to face, eye to eye, stuck together in a room. His breath stutters, his hands sweat, and suddenly his mind is wracking itself, thinking of how to act like a basic, functioning human being.
“Do you know what the mark on the back of your neck means?” Ei asks innocently. Kuni trembles beneath her gaze, a loose leaf in the ever blowing wind.
“The electro symbol.” Kuni whispers, “It’s one bestowed to those connected to the Electro archon herself.”
“That’s right,” Ei stepped closer.
“Tell me, what is your true name?”
“You are not privy to such information.” It’s a bluff, he knows. None of the names he says will feel right, nothing he says truly encapsulates him.
Ei sighs, her hands falling to her sides dejectedly as she stares at Kuni. Stares and stares and stares.
“Where have you been my whole life?” Ei cocks her head questionably, and it sends a red hot fury through his veins. How dare she ask that? How dare she? Of all times?
“Where have I been?” He cries, “Where have you been?!”
“My whole life has been suffering ever since you abandoned me in front of Shakkei! Ever since I cried like a normal, goddamn child! Think, so many catastrophes could have been prevented if you had just been a little more lenient!”
Ei hushes, realisation settling over her expression, perhaps the memories are flooding in, perhaps the effects of Irminsul have chipped away off of her. Or maybe, the guilt is too tumultuous to be simply discarded, “I never meant for it to be that way. I wanted you to be free from this place. I never wanted to neglect you.”
It’s all too similar to a distant dream he had, one that tasted of lavender melons and the bitter ash of fireworks. One where his mother smiled kinder, her hands reminiscent of a time where he were more innocent and believing in the love she faked, hands that didn’t sting of everything she took away from him. A childhood. A home.
“Then where were you,” He hissed, “When I came to seek an audience with you? Where were you when I cried for help for the people of Tataratsuna? Where were you when my first family died in a catastrophe you could’ve saved?”
He sees the faces of all the people he had met in Tataratsuna, their warm smiles and the way their hands reached for him, the people who gave him the first, fleeting taste of true family. What his mother was meant to give him from the very start.
“I assume I was locked away in the plane of Euthymia. I had no clue you sent for me?” Ei cocked her head, and he had to hold back the urge to grapple at her throat and tear out her windpipe to leave her noiseless, silenced. How unsurprising of an answer.
“Guuji Yae came to see me instead. She said she’d send people. They never came.” He spat, rage a blistering, hot pool in the pit of his stomach. It bubbled and frothed and overflowed, “Tell me, what did you gain trying to seek eternity? How can you keep Inazuma eternal if half the nation’s land crumbles at the seams? Sometimes I wonder, are you the mother, or the child?”
Ei winces, and he feels no remorse. Not for somebody who never cared in the first place. Not for a liar, a tyrant, a cruel, cruel monster. She is the child for throwing tantrums over nations and locking herself away instead of dealing with the pressing matters at hand. She is the child for doing the equivalent of locking herself in her room for days, turning her back to the suffering and pain of her own people. She is the child for not understanding the fundamental basics of life, of ambition, of motherhood. What kind of creator leaves her creation in the middle of nowhere with no warning nor notions, heartless and directionless, a fledgling nonetheless, with nothing but a golden feather that truly meant nothing in the end. A symbol meant to remind him of his heritage, yet turned away when tried to find his creator, his origin.
“Then what?” He choked, choked on the bitter air and everything nestled deep in his bones, “What of that repulsive look you gave me the day I was created. When I cried. Why was there disgust?”
Ei diverted her gaze, mouth opening then closing. He scoffed. Of course.
He turned his back towards her, ready to leave. There is no more to be said. He doesn’t need it anyway.
“Not disgust, regret, because already I had already bore my pain onto something meant to be free of struggle.”
He froze, looking back to see the look of concentration on Ei’s face trying to muster up the perfect sentence. Her hands wring one another, nervous habit just as he would do.
“I regretted it as soon as I saw your tears. Because I knew I could not subject such a sensitive being to the cruelties of ruling an entire nation. I believed my twin sister Makoto’s downfall was the emotions she bore. I saw so much of her in you. It was too painful imagining your death.
“I wanted you to be free to be who you wanted to be. Fragile, yes, you are, but you are so much more than the puppet you were created to be.”
Bowing his head, the tears begin gathering, but he’s not ready to display his weakness again so easily. It almost tastes like defeat, the killing blow to his dwindling esteem. Why has he been wandering so long for a purpose if truly, all it was was he was more than he could’ve been? How did she expect him to get something so simple if she never taught him the lesson in the first place?
“There are countless misunderstandings between us, countless years of pain. I have been nothing but negligent to you, and I know now that you were the equivalent of a child. You did not know the first thing about humanity, and I regret never teaching you how to live.”
“I never gave you the childhood you deserved.”
Childhood. Childhood. That golden, fleeting dream served to him on a silver teaspoon. He had reached for it, yet his clumsy hands fumbled and dropped the spoon, leaving the childhood splattered all over the floor. There, he had learnt to lick it clean off of his useless fingers, off of the dirty floor, for that’s all he got. Childhood. Childhood.
Such a vital part of human children"s growth. The foundation of their behaviour, their dreams, their hopes, their humanity. Tiny slivers of memories they can look back on and remember why exactly they did something. He had skipped that foundation stage, leapt straight to the stars yet fell as the betrayal weighed him down. He never got that childhood, not until it was too late.
Kuni waits with bated breath, watches Ei carefully, lip quivering, eyes misting over. Ei steps closer to him.
“Will you forgive me?”
This is it. This is where he draws his blade and severs the already fragile tether that ties him to this very land. It’s right there, glistening red, twinkling tantalisingly, as if beckoning him to cut it, to turn his back and never even think of glancing behind him. He’ll leave the stifling air of this nation and leave everything he once knew.
But he hesitates. Archons, it’s always hesitation.
To cut the rope that binds him, to leave and to never come back, to turn his back on his birthplace, it is tempting to leave all the pain behind. To dump it and bury it at the soles of Tenshukaku, leaving it to root itself in his previous home. To cut the tip and sever the bind is to not only leave behind everything that pained him, but also everything he learnt, and everything he enjoyed.
Vivid fireworks, the sparks blazing at his fingers. Sakura trees, their flimsy petals nestled in his hair. Naku weeds, bristling and mildly itchy against his ankles.
How to breathe, how to eat, how to write, how to speak. Holding a brush dipped in ebony ink, holding a strip of metal and a hammer in the other, holding a heart cut clean from his very first friend, the very person he thought he could rely on forever.
And he knows now that vengeance isn’t right. Look how he turned out, the revenge festering and leeching off of him. He knows the past is irreversible and nothing can be changed about it.
But the past is also unreliable, and the past is full of secrets and surprises plastered over by the history books and the gullible states of human minds. He’s learnt that so much of his past is bitter lies and painful deceit fed to him by the very hands who brought him, only to mutilate him later. So much of it, he had spent resenting people, seeking revenge and tearing down everything to find any semblance of peace and purpose he could find. He knows how terribly unstable the past is, he knows that not everything he believes is the truth. Perhaps he is still coming to terms with it, but that doesn’t leave him uncertain with where he stands.
He is not ready to forgive. Not yet at least. A quiet apology susurrated in a stifling room is not enough to untangle the tapestry of lies draped over him through the years. It is not enough, but it is a start.
“You hurt me so deeply in the past. I can’t forgive you. Not yet.” Kuni whispers, the hurt laced so deep in his trembling voice, “I hope you understand.”
The resentment festers, and his brain screams as Ei brushes back a tentative bit of his hair, not the same shade of vibrant violet as her own, but perhaps duller, indigo maybe. He’s sure she sees so much of her in him, so much hurt and guilt just like hers. Maybe she wonders if there is a way to take back the past and start it anew, one with less mistakes and agony.
“I understand,” Ei smiles back, “Ever since my defeat in my Plane of Euthymia, I’ve been having to learn things anew. To start over with many people and sort out the multitudes of problems I’ve caused. I’ve acted childishly, neglected the people who needed me most, most importantly, I’ve done things I’ve never even thought through the consequences of.”
“I may be your mother no longer, but you will always be my son.”
The room is deathly silent, the own sound of his fingers clenching louder than the air. Tears well in his eyes as his heart swells, the thoughts in his mind swell to a crescendo, leaving him breathless. He is a cauldron bubbled over and finished, the bubbles popping slowly as the reaction slows and everything in him stops colliding, and it is just him, and that odd feeling he can’t quite place. Nostalgia? Relief? Acceptance?
The tears fall, and this time, he is not met with disgust nor regret, but with fingers that thumb them away gently, as a mother would with her child. He hiccups and careens, his body curls into itself as the tears flow and fall to their own accord. He knows that no matter how much he denies it, this is the thing he’s always wanted. For his mother to wipe his tears and tell him that it’s alright, that it’s okay, that things will get better no matter their circumstances.
And it’s right here in front of him. Ei, smiling for once without fake gentleness. And his mind screams at him to get away, to push her to the ground and spit at her face.
He doesn’t. Still, they may not be on the best of terms, and still, they’ll never be living under the same roof on the same terms again. They are different people, grown to be yearning for different things, taught to have different views yet still tied down by that title of family. He knows deep down that he doesn’t hate Ei as much as his brain spits out that he does, he knows he just wishes she could’ve been just a bit kinder. He knows as well, that Ei doesn’t hate him, not now anyway. Not for his emotions, not for his actions, not for his failures or shortcomings. It’s a hard thing to believe, yet standing in the sereneness of that room, tears still trailing persistently as he smiles at her, he knows that things have changed.
That he has changed, and that is still okay.
Perhaps this is the closure that he’s always wanted.
-
“So, you deleted yourself from the all of Teyvat’s memories.” Ei mused to herself, as if it were the easiest thing. The teacup lay hot in her hands as the steam coiled at her lip, “So where are you now? What are you doing now?”
Kuni nestles his teacup in his own gentle grip and the crook of his lap, watching the sky and the half drawn up sun, lazily sinking as afternoon dragged on, “I live in Sumeru now.”
“Do tell.”
“I…have a new family.” He waits for the sigh of exasperation or the huff of indignation, but he’s only met with a placid smile and a patient gaze. “You do know of the current Dendro Archon, yes?”
Ei nods, setting her teacup on the edge of the table in between them, “Yes, Lesser Lord Kusanali. Kind-hearted isn’t she?”
“Very,” Kuni agreed, “She took me in after the whole…fiasco I produced in Sumeru. You perhaps don’t know of it. I was very thorough with my deletion.”
Ei laughs, “You were always very thorough with everything you did. Not a single detail left to spare.”
His fingers tap against his side in nervousness yet hints of anticipation. As if this is what he was meant to have, soft conversations with his creator.
“Yes, well, I live with her now. She’s given me a nice room with a view of the entire city. I have a job as her ‘errand boy’ as she says. I tie up loose ends. I investigate things for her.”
“Seems like things have gotten interesting for you,” Ei pours more tea into his empty teacup, carefully with both hands grasping the pot, “I suppose it’s not everyday you get to work as an archon’s right hand man.”
“Yes, yes, it’s very exciting don’t get too jealous,” He puffs his chest out in mock pride, and he can watch the faintest of giggles bubble in Ei’s chest, “I beat up bad guys, I save the world, it’s whatever.”
“Anything else interesting? Apart from the violence?” Ei prods, Kuni rolls his eyes, still a mother after all.
“I sometimes sleep over at these two guys’ house. They’re like brothers to me, Alhaitham and Kaveh. They"re married, so they bicker all the time, it’s very grating on the ears.” He groans.
“Married? What about you Kuni, have you found love?” He chokes on the amber liquid lodged in his throat.
“What’s with the change of subject?!” He sputters, tea sloshing dangerously in his cup.
“Sorry, was that a bit abrupt? I shouldn’t have pried in such personal matters,” Ei apologises sincerely, “We were just having such a nice conversation I’d thought–”
“No, no it’s okay,” Kuni reassures, “I’d just like a bit of warning next time, I do have a…lover I guess you could say.”
He best not mention the fact that he’s in love with the very same man who parried her blade. That would be another burden for future Kuni to handle.
“I’m glad you’ve found yourself a family Kuni,” Ei smiles, eyes crinkling as she stares at him fondly. Kuni, flustered by the sudden change of mood, coughs and changes the subject.
“...what about you Ei?” Kuni asks hesitantly, thrown into the open, “What has been happening in your life? Have you been changing for the better?”
Ei smiles, staring out into Inazuma city. Certainly it has changed over the years, despite the Shogun’s strict reign of eternity, people have always found a way to adapt and change and grow over the years. Kuni wonders if she reminisces of a simpler time, of when she didn’t have to rule a nation and she had the amiable company of old friends, of a sister who’d always be infinitely more empathetic and kind.
“I’ve been trying to get out more and experience mortal leisurely activities,” She replies, “Yae says I’m awfully uptight, and that my lack of understanding of the mortal realm is what makes the rift between me and my people so great.”
“And what have you tried?”
“Well, I’ve tried all sorts of things,” Her eyes cast upwards as she lists things on her fingers, “I’ve read light novels, taken photos, eaten new foods, I’ve even tried doing things such as going on picnics again. It was hard at first, but I find I’m enjoying these mundane pleasures.”
“I’ve been there,” He chuckles, “I could never understand why humans spent so much of their time indulging in such useless, frivolities. To think they were actually fun.”
“Right?” Ei agreed, “Sometimes it’s good to just relax and take a break.”
“Yes.” Silence fell over them again, yet each time it did it hung a little less forebodingly, a little less heavy as time ticked on. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, thinking of something to say, something worthwhile.
“...I’m glad your life is going well.” Kuni decides, muttering abashedly. Ei is caught slightly off guard, before returning the gesture.
“And I’m glad yours is too.”
There are many confusing feelings welling up in Kuni at the moment. They bubble and froth inside him as he clutches his chest. For once it aches with the weight of a heart, of emotion and feeling.
Confusion, resentment, relief, all of it swirls around him in disarray as he sits completely still on the cushion by Ei. All of it makes him feel disoriented, and just the slightest bit sick. But despite it all, he supposes he’s learnt one last thing on this trip.
Sometimes, things happen that are out of his control. Sometimes, life will blow past him like a harsh winter gale and he can do nothing but watch as everything he grasps tightly in his fingers drift away from him. Sometimes life is full of resentment, misunderstandings and pain, yet still that doesn’t stop the future from being full of hope. That doesn’t stop moments like these from happening. If you had told him that one day, he’d stand by his mother again, smiling as retold stories of his recent adventures to Ei, he would have scoffed and promptly had you removed from his eyesight. Yet here he is now. He’s learnt that happy endings do exist, even for people like him.
Oh, and reconciliation is hard, and very taxing.
The bond between them is frayed, severed then taped back together then ripped apart once more. It is one that has long been broken beyond repair with the rust of time. Yet still, there is a connection, and Kuni does not mind it. Ei cares for him, and he supposes, he can care for her too. He supposes that maybe he can finally live with the closure he’s needed all along.
A bird flies through the open windows and nestles quietly next to the lukewarm teapot. Both their eyes trail downward, watching the bird sleep in mild awe. It’s a symbol of hope, of a new beginning, a new leaf unfurled in the palms of their hands.
-
Kuni returns home, toeing off and placing his shoes neatly on the small rack at the entranceway. Immediately, Kuni is hit by the white noise of idle chatter and oil splattering in pans. His shoulders loosen as he wanders further into their temporary accommodations.
Kazuha, Kaveh and Alhaitham are all crowded into the tiny kitchen, Kaveh and Alhaitham intently watching Kazuha as he explains something about the process of making Katsu. His hands were dusted in flour and his face splintered into an amused smile. All confusing feelings are forgotten, replaced by slight curiosity and amusement.
“What exactly are we doing?” Kuni questions, lips tugged into an amused smile. All three heads turn synonymously like clockwork, their eyes landing on him.
“Kuni! We’re making you a feast.” Kaveh’s hands were even messier than Kazuha’s, caked with flour and egg.
“Welcome home love.” Kazuha cooed, placing a freshly crumbed piece of pork onto a metal tray.
“Kaveh wanted Kazuha to show him how to make Inazuman dishes, so obviously I had to be dragged into it.” Alhaitham gripes.
“I only agreed if Kaveh showed me how to make Sumerian dishes too.” Kazuha justifies.
“The Tahchin’s in the oven!” Kaveh grins.
The slick scent of oil. The fragrant aroma Sumeru rose and padisarah petals. A messied ceramic bowl caked in dough. Hands covered with flour so used to the years of loving. Of loving him. It is a home, the longer he scrutinises and picks on the details, the more he can see the picture coming together. A couch. A table with four chairs. A kitchen with three squeezed inside.
Home is not a place. It is not a palace with four walls and a roof. It is not the swaying shadow of a Cuihua tree nor the gritty feeling of sand between his toes. It is not a zap of lightning nor the sting of an operating table.
Home is where he is now. Home is the people who cherish him no matter the circumstance.
Kazuha is home, he takes his hand and traces the joints and curves. He maps out every scratch, every mark, every tattoo, all from the grace of his lips. His hands will carve open his chest and touch the places nobody has ever loved before, and he will prod at all the hurt with such painful tenderness that Kuni will want to scream, melt, then become whole again. Just for him. Because Kazuha is his home.
Nahida, although not present, is home. A pale, green light that murmurs in the torrential, distant parts of his mind. She glows and whispers and eases the tensed muscles constricting around his grief-stricken hands and worn down toes. She will make a home out of him just as he did with her, and she will spin her silly analogies and stories well into the night, such as a spincrystal spinner as it weaves lullabies to finally, finally let him rest after years of never knowing where he belonged. Because Nahida is home.
Kaveh is home, he spews out word after word that rolls off his tongue like a waterfall of neverending cherishment and amiability, and he will pour his soul out because that is simply what he does. Too kind and too sweet, no amount of alcohol nor grief can drown out that fact. Yet with such idealistic conviction of moral goodness, Kaveh still hugs him and calls his name so casually. Brothers in law but Kaveh would lie and drown and grit out every painful phrase for him, because that is what family does. Because Kaveh is home.
Alhaitham is home, he smells of books and coffee and ink. He is a library of knowledge stacked to the brim with the fluttering yellowed pages of documents, parchment stuck together that Kuni can leaf through. He will be the shelter, the rock, the small house that stands the test of time. And when the storm rages on and words cannot reach Kuni, cannot permeate the air of grief he had clouded himself in, Alhaitham’s presence will weld into place beside him and make it known that he’s there. His warmth and nature will be enough to drive all those thoughts away, just for the night anyway. Because Al Haitham is home.
Kuni, a failure puppet prototype, an almost god. Kuni, a boy stripped of a childhood.
Kuni is a boy, misunderstood, mistreated, misinterpreted.
And he is loved. Loved.
And when the tears gather for the umpteenth time, when his lip trembles childishly, when he runs, when he falters and slips, his hands extend in such a feeble, embarrassing manner. Reaching for a safety net, he’ll fall.
And falling into their arms, he’s home.
-
“To love and lose and still be kind.”
- Warshan Shire