#if Ayako's destined for pain

[writer-and-artist27]

Flower Petals

For @panyum, since your art had me thinking on my breaks during my day at work today. Addressing some of Ayako's lore via the Vy-and-Ayako-coexisting AU. :)

Was listening to a piano version of Madoka's Luminous to go with this. Please enjoy.

In other words, Dantes adopts Vy as a daughter, I think.

-------------------------

"I'll be heading out first, Vy," Ayako said over her shoulder, her red-band Command Spells glowing on her right wrist as she waved her hand. "Anything I need to remember from the 'Material Shopping List' while farming?"

"Restocking on Cursed Bones and Dragon Hearts would be ideal, Aya-san!" Vy called after her from her seat at one of the tables in Chaldea's Dining Hall, trying not to laugh at Ayako's exaggerated air quotes. "Material Hell" wasn't exactly fun for either of them, after all. Not to mention QP hell. The "Material Shopping List" kinda just happened, and hey. It was a good way to keep some semblance of normalcy. Thus, Vy added after a second of extra thought, "Some more Void's Dust would be a nice bonus, if that's okay!"

With one last glance in her direction, Ayako sarcastically rolled her eyes while saying an exaggerated, "Fineeee~!" It was hard to make out her figure past all of Karna's fluff-armor-things and Raikou's many headpieces, but Vy could still see her fellow Master shoot her a warm smile. It was rare to see Ayako smile these days. "Don't die from overwork!" was the last comment Ayako left in the air, the Servants flanking her masking any remaining signs of her friend as she left the area.

Vy barely got the chance to reply with, "I-I won't die!" by the time Ayako was gone.

Still, the Dining Hall wasn't exactly devoid of people. Once Ayako had left, and before Vy could go back to her snack bowl of pineapple slices, a cold, almost bony hand decided to land on her head.

Pat pat.

Vy did her best to not flinch, taking in the feeling before opening her mouth. "...Count? You're not going with Aya-san?"

The Count of Monte Cristo did nothing but shrug once Vy raised her head and looked up at him through her glasses, quiet and rather mysterious-looking as always with his dark cape and fedora. The wisps of darkness still lingering on his figure were telling of his usual teleportation powers. Or, were those wisps smoke? Vy was never really sure with Ayako's Avenger. "I am, just not immediately," was the soft answer, and in spite of the glints of what seemed to be irritation in the corners of his yellow eyes, the man known as Edmond Dantes still seemed... serene. Somehow. "Is it so wrong for me to check on a little flower?"

It was rather amazing in hindsight how Vy didn't blush at the title. It wasn't everyday an Avenger wouldn't be... well, all "Avenge-y", or so some of the staff would whisper in the hallways when no one was looking. "You're the only one who calls me that, Count," Vy pointed out gently, raising one of her hands from the table to grab his hand before he could retract it from her head. "And you don't have to keep patting my head. I'm okay today."

The fact that Vy didn't feel the need to take a nap yet was a good enough sign for the rest of the day. At least, it felt like one.

The Count still smiled at her. Vy wasn't sure if it was a smirk or a grin at this point. "Still, it is remarkably rare to find someone like you, little flower. Merely take these gestures as a sign of appreciation. Hell can be a vast place to explore."

For some reason, Avenger's words sparked something in Vy's heart. She slowly let go of his hand, instead choosing to tilt her neck up a little more so as to make better eye contact with the taller Servant. "...If you say that, Count, can I ask you something before you go back to Aya-san?"

"Why, a little flower like you, asking me a question?" Dantes threw his head back to laugh out loud, but Vy still sat quietly to wait for him to finish. A few seconds later, he stopped, lowering his head and kneeling down so that Vy wouldn't be craning her neck so much to meet his eyes. He was still taller than her by quite a few centimeters in spite of the kneeling, not helped by how Vy was sitting, but he still said in a gentler voice, "Go ahead. I shall make the time for you to speak freely."

Vy pursued her lips. Okay. She had permission. But, was it really okay?

To voice such a silly thing...

Her heart beat once, twice, then—

"...Do you think I'm helping Aya-san enough, Count?"

Dantes slowly blinked at her, clearly not expecting her voiced line of thought. "...Helping?" he echoed.

Vy blushed, turning her head away and ignoring the urge to clutch at the hems of her cape provided by her Mages' Association uniform. "Aye," she admitted. "I'm just wondering, really, if... if I'm really helping her. That's all."

Dantes stayed remarkably silent.

Vy flubbed, feeling heat start to climb up her cheeks. The faint scent of expensive tobacco wafting off of Dantes from the closeness wasn't exactly helping much. Vy couldn't wish for Robin Hood or some of the other Servants to come to her rescue right now. She made this bed. It was time to lie in it. "I-I mean, I know we're fellow Masters! And in a time like the Incineration of Humanity, we're supposed to help each other!" But, but—my mana levels suck, I overwork a lot without meaning to, I can't help but sleep in sometimes when I'm tired, I— "But, but sometimes I wonder," Vy said instead, taking a few deep breaths to try calming the anxiety starting to wash over her brain. "...To a Servant like you, Count, who's been with Aya-san since the beginning, am I..."

"..."

Am I strong enough? Am I good enough?

Am I helping her enough?

"Am I being a good enough friend to her?" It took all of Vy's courage to turn her head back to look into the Count's yellow eyes. Even with her cracking, higher-pitched voice, she finished her bit with a tinier, "What do you think, Count?"

The ball was in his court now. Edmond Dantes could judge in whatever way he wanted at this point. And it was because of that Vy was scared.

Still, Dantes blinked at her again. His shoulders seemed to relax as soon as Vy was looking at him, and Vy blinked back once he raised one hand.

Vy probably should've expected Dantes to rest said hand on top of her head again, but she still flinched once his fingers brushed her hair. The look in his yellow eyes as he did this reflected a lot of things.

Wonder, amazement, and... and gratitude?

"...Vy," Count said finally, a long exhale following the call of her name. "Little flower, to my Accomplice, you are a guiding light post."

"Light...post?"

Dantes merely patted her head again, and the smile on his lips seemed sad in spite of the warmth reflected in his yellow eyes.

"It should be obvious to even you that Ayako walks the depths of hell. For her, my Accomplice, I would gladly follow her into hell," he elaborated, his hand still patting Vy's head. The touch was cold, but still gentle. "But for you, little flower..."

"Muu?"

Dantes sighed at the unsaid question Vy posed through one of her instinctual noises, pulling Vy in by the back of her head as a response. Vy did her best not to wince once his forehead hit hers. Still, she thought, Ow.

Yet somehow, through the sparkles that blew up in her vision from the sudden headbutt, Vy could faintly see Dantes smile again.

"Vy, my Accomplice would not be alive without you. And for a little flower of change like you, I would gladly walk into the light I abhor just to see you bloom again."

Vy blinked, just once, and with the sparkles gone from her eyes, Dantes too had disappeared.

[xsparklingravenx]

boy in a snowglobe

Title: boy in a snowglobe

Fandom: Genshin Impact

Characters: Kaedehara Kazuha, Kamisato Ayako, Thoma, Tomo 

Rating: T

Word Count: 3,572

Summary:  Kaedehara Kazuha escapes with an empty vision, and his life.But his home, and his closest friend, are the things he will have to learn to live without.

[Filling in the gaps. From the escape, to the Crux Fleet.]

AO3

1 / 2

I know not this place,

Where scattered lightning lingers,

No longer a home.

~x~

The scent of the storm was thick on the air by the time the boy reached the forests of Chinju.

The wind was heavy, weighed down by it. The boy, swathed in crimson tones, fell to his knees with rattling breaths, one hand clutching a small, smooth trinket to his chest. The other supported him, fingers digging into the earth, displacing the soil. Chest heaving, he stayed. One breath, two breaths, three.

The memories were fresh, open wounds scoring his mind, bleeding freely. A crash of lightning. A single-minded strike. A sword cutting a life in two; not just that of his friend, but the boy’s own, too.

Lightning illuminated the sky above the forest. The boy looked up, feeling the first drops of fine, light rain against his cheeks. The storm clouds were black and hideous, not an unusual sight in itself, but all the more terrifying this time. The goddess of storms was furious, her anger reflected in the depth of the oncoming gale. It was a fury directed at none other than the boy himself, who had stormed Tenshukaku, thrown himself into a situation he had no part in, and made off with a spoil she’d deemed so precious that she’d locked down an entire country in search of more.

Slowly, the boy lowered his hand from his chest. He had his fist closed tight around the trinket, but there was no life to it, no characteristic buzzing in its small body. The skin of his hand burned with agonising pain, yet he made no noise as he carefully loosened his claw-like grip. He gazed down both at the colourless stone, and the mess it had made of his skin alike.

His hand was scorched. Blistered. Ruined. The stone was empty. Dead. Unkindled.

The wind carried with it a warning; he was being pursued, and they were closing in. It spoke of steel weapons and rushing footsteps, the Raiden Shogun’s personal forces tracking his movements in pursuit of the stone. The Vision. Not an hour ago, it had brimmed with Electro energy, sparking with ambition. A white cat mewled in the boy’s memory, and he saw a familiar smile. A familiar face.

There will always be those who dare to brave the lightning’s glow.

They should not have been final words, and yet now they were suited for an epitaph all the same. The boy struggled to his feet, stumbling forward with his grief caught in his throat, with his hand burning and begging for medical attention, but he could not stop here. If they found him, he would be imprisoned. Brought before the Shogun herself. What they would do after than, he didn’t know, but more than anything, he knew they would strip him of the Vision, both his own, and the deadened one.

He couldn’t allow it.

The storm clouds rumbled again. He made his way deeper into the forest, no destination in mind except away. He’d always been a traveller. Lately, more so. Ever since the Vision Hunt Decree had slammed down across his homeland, he’d been running, his own held close as he escaped those who would steal it away.

But now, he’d drawn attention directly to himself. The Raiden Shogun herself knew of his existence, and had honed in on it. The wind warned of a second presence deeper within the forest, but it didn’t seem a threat. He pushed onwards, rushing past roots, trees, careful enough to not trip, but hastily enough to ignore everything else.

The fine rain transitioned into a downpour so heavy that it drenched him through in seconds. Every drop was a pinprick to his sensitive ears. His hair stuck to his face. His robes grew weighty. Even when he heard a shriek, high and feminine, he continued running. The clouds were watching him. It felt like he had a target painted on his back. The Shogun was just waiting to strike.

Someone else came running through the trees ahead, hands held over their head of ice-white hair, their head ducked low in an attempt to keep the rain out of their eyes. A girl, dressed in fine blue, the raindrops turning to ice in her vicinity. The boy skidded to a stop before her, and she stopped in kind, the two of them staring at one another in surprise.

He knew her. She knew him. Between them, silence stretched out as she took in the sight before her; a drenched boy with nothing but an empty Vision in a ruined right hand, and then, reality slammed back into him with the crashing of footsteps from behind.

“Help me,” he said, voice on the verge of shattering. “Please, Himegimi Shirasagi. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t need it.”

The girl’s gaze hardened, just like the frost she commanded. With an imperceptible nod, he ran past her, into the trees, choosing one to hide behind. He held his breath as best as he could, even as his lungs burned, begging him for oxygen. He kept the lifeless Vision held to his chest. His heart beat like a hummingbird’s, rapid and without pause.

The rain was just so loud.

The crashing footsteps came to a halt. He heard a murmur spread through the soldiers who’d been sent after him, and then, the voice of one their commanding officer. “Lady Kamisato,” came that steady rumble, regal and cool. “An unexpected pleasure. We come from Tenshukaku, and are looking for a ronin dressed in red. We have reason to believe he escaped into the forest. Have you seen anyone matching such a description?”

The boy did not know the Himegimi that well. They had crossed paths only a few times, when he and his friend had been called upon for assistance in matters she and her brother could not attend to due to their status. But, the wind didn’t deem her a threat. He hoped his trust wasn’t misplaced.

“A ronin?" she asked, playing the part of clueless bystander. "Did he happen to look like a youth?”

“Yes. White hair, a single streak of red. Eyes the same colour. Holding something of great importance.”

He heard the subtle pause Kamisato gave, enough to sell her lie as truth. “Yes, but he wasn’t going this way. If you’re chasing him, then I think he knows. I saw such a person doubling back when I was practicing my dance at the lake. It looked like he was heading towards Mt. Yougou. Perhaps he’s trying to throw you off his trail, and is using the sudden storm as a cover.”

He felt the wind shift. The Shogun's men were digesting her words. The boy closed his eyes tight, hoping beyond everything that they would listen. The skin of his hand raged, blistered and furious. The empty Vision didn’t so much as thrum.

“Your assistance is most appreciated, Shirasagi Himegimi,” said the soldier. “Men! We make for Mt. Yougou! In the name of the Raiden Shogun!”

The boy sank down the tree bark, head ducked down as he heard their footsteps marching away. He counted his breaths again. One. Two. Three. How many breaths had his friend taken, across his short life? Not enough. Now, his body laid cold on the floor of Tenshukaku, rent in two by the Musou-no-Hitachi. The Raiden Shogun had shown him no mercy, but the boy had no right to be angered by it.

It had been his friend who had challenged her, after all, even knowing the consequences.

“Kaedehara.” The Himegimi’s voice drew his attention. He lifted his head, feeling the cool air exuding from her as she came to stand at his side. She withdrew her icy Vision from where she’d hidden it within the folds of her dress, and then knelt at his side. “It has been a while.”

“It has,” he said. Wheezed, more. He still hadn’t caught his breath. “Just Kazuha is fine.”

“But your clan—”

“Is little more than a name.” It felt like a ridiculous conversation to be having, all things considered. The rain continued to hammer down, striking the forest floor. “We both know there’s no worth to it. Thank you, for your help. I didn’t know if I could keep running.”

She looked down at where he cradled the Vision against his chest, a small gasp escaping her lips. She took his hand in her own, peeling his fingers away from the stone. “Your hand…what have you done? You ran all the way from Tenshukaku, didn’t you? That’s so incredibly far, how are you still standing?”

“I’m not.” He was sat in the middle of a glowing forest, his hand ruined and his lungs screaming at him for the abuse. “I didn’t do anything. Tomo did.”

The Himegimi’s eyes searched his for the true meaning of his words, but she quickly grasped it, her gaze catching on the lifeless Vision. “You speak of your friend, the samurai you worked with? Then…this Vision, it’s…”

“He challenged the Raiden Shogun to a duel,” Kazuha said, thinly, tone clipped. “And he lost. I think he was hoping to challenge the Decree, but…it doesn’t matter now. As he breathed his last, I took the Vision, and it died with him. Burned out, as collapsing suns do, growing bright one last time before losing all life. I held onto it, and I ran. They chased me.”

She checked him over, her fingers brushing against the Vision he had strapped to his back. Then, she leant back. Ludicrously, he thought of how she was dirtying her knees by kneeling on the sodden forest floor. “You’re uninjured, aside from your hand?”

“I am.”

“Then you must walk. The Kamisato estate isn’t far. Come with me.”

He shook his head. “I can’t. I’m a wanted man. It won’t be long before my name is splashed over every corner of Inazuma. I knew what I was doing, taking this empty Vision. While I appreciate your assistance, Lady Kamisato, this burden is my own to bear."

“Ayaka.”

“What?”

“My name. You may use it. Now please, don’t argue with me any longer. We must escape this rain, and quickly.”

His surprise must have been etched onto his face, because she forcibly took him by his undamaged hand, pulling him to his feet. When he was upright, she let him go, marching ahead with her hands in fists at her side.

“I don’t understand,” Kazuha said. It had all happened so quickly. He was still trying to wrap his head around the situation. “Not that I’m not appreciative, but, why?”

“Because,” Ayaka said, “you are living proof.”

“Of what?”

She stopped short, tilting her head up into the oncoming rain. It continued to freeze around her, shards of pure ice hitting the floor, leaving her entirely dry. She sighed gently, but, before Kazuha could press her again, she gave her answer, as clear as the shards of ice themselves.

“That the Vision Hunt Decree is unjust, and must be ended.”

~x~

The howling storm rattled the roof, but the Kamisato Manor was tall and strong, and apparently laughed in the face of such weather.

Kazuha sat on a wooden chair, Ayaka stood at his side with her hands on her hips while her favourite servant rushed around grabbing towels and bandages. His head of blond hair dipped in and out of the room multiple times, always with a cheery comment about how he’d be right back with everything else, and then he was out again.

“Please hurry up, Thoma!” Ayaka said as he dashed in and out once more. “Honestly…I thought he was more organised than this.”

“He’s an outlander,” Kazuha mused, looking at the pile of amenities that had been stacked before them. “Where from?”

“Mondstadt, I think.”

“You don’t know for sure?”

“He’s…a bit of an enigma, even to me. Brother was the one who found him, but even he doesn’t know much.”

“‘Found?’”

“It’s a long story.”

“Bit rude to talk about someone behind their back, don’t you think?” Thoma said, popping his head in once more. He held a bowl of water, and had several strips of fabric slung over his shoulders. Bandages, and washcloths. “You could just ask me, milady!”

Ayaka gave him a flat look. “Something tells me that I’d end up with too much information.”

With a sheepish laugh, Thoma apparently conceded. “And they say that you and Lord Ayato aren’t alike. He always blows me off like that.”

“Because you’re talented at talking in circles while never actually saying anything, which is exactly what you’re doing now.” Ayaka smiled fondly, and then turned her attention to Kazuha. “My apologies, Kazuha. He’s like this. You get used to him.”

“Wow! You really have it in for me today, huh?” Thoma knelt before Kazuha, extending a waiting hand. “Alright, friend. Let’s see it. Milady said it was gnarly, but if you’re going to keep it clutched to your chest like that, I can’t do anything.”

Kazuha still had the lifeless Vision held close, and it felt like a betrayal to let go of it. But, Thoma was waiting, eyes focused now, so he relented, passing the colourless stone to his left hand to let him examine it.

Thoma was no good at hiding his expressions. He outright winced when he saw the damage, letting out a soft whistle when he turned Kazuha’s hand in his own. “Uh, you’re a samurai, right?”

Kazuha knew there was an ulterior meaning to the question, but he wasn’t sure if it was the right one to be asking. The title didn’t quite fit over his head now, not when Tomo was spilling his blood across the Tenshukaku’s stone floor.

“Ronin,” Kazuha corrected him.

Thoma’s outlander brain apparently didn’t know how to process that word, given how he looked to Ayaka for help. She seemed uncomfortable with giving up its meaning, so he turned back to Kazuha for clarification. “What?”

“I have no master, so I’m no longer a samurai. Such is the way it goes.”

“Huh. I’ll be honest, I thought that was just what we called those crazy guys you meet out on the road. Never really thought much of it.” Thoma let Kazuha’s hand rest back against his thigh, and dipped a cloth in his warm water. “Anyway. I was gonna say, I can do some wrapping and that, but you really need to get this checked out by a healer. Otherwise, I doubt you’re gonna be doing any samurai-ing. Or ronin-ing. I have no idea how this is gonna sort itself out on its own, but you might find it kind of hard to hold a sword.”

Ayaka frowned. “It’s really that bad? Not even you can treat it, Thoma?”

“Pyro Vision is great, and all, but not for healing.” Thoma took Kazuha’s hand again. “Alright, deep breath, friend. This is probably going to hurt. A lot.”

He wasn’t lying. The water was cold, but it was anything but soothing as Thoma pressed it against his blistered skin. Kazuha bit down hard on the inside of his cheek to stop himself from gasping, squeezing his eyes shut. His uninjured hand clamped around the empty Vision, looking for any sort of reprieve.

Thoma was firm, but gentle, as he cleaned it up to the best of his ability. Ayaka stood back and watched, her arms wrapped around herself. When Kazuha opened his eyes again, he saw the troubled look on her face, how she looked like she was at war with herself, and thought of what she’d said back in the forest.

She wanted to end the Vision Hunt Decree. That meant she was an ally.

“Alrighty, that should be enough cleaning. I’ll just wrap it up, best I can, and then we can call it there and finally dry you off. You need to get out of those clothes, too.” Thoma reached for his salve, rubbing it over Kazuha’s skin, glancing up at Ayaka as he did. “Then, what? I mean, I don’t mind him sticking around, but you know the Shogun’s forces will end up sniffing around here at some point, and I’m pretty sure she’s already suspicious of Lord Ayato.”

“That’s for Brother to deal with,” Ayaka said, tapping her chin in thought. “Why are you asking me, though? Kazuha is the topic at hand. He should be the one to decide his own fate.”

“True,” Thoma turned back to him, taking his hand again, this time to wrap it in bandages. Kazuha breathed against the pain. “So, what’ll it be?”

In truth, Kazuha wished it to be nothing at all. He understood, in that moment, the Shogun’s dream of Eternity. Time was still rushing onwards, and he’d had none at all to himself. To process, to grieve, to even contemplate what had happened. Everything had passed him by in such a rush that it had left him numb on the inside. The Vision was the only link he had to the terrible event, and even that had been left deadened inside.

But life was not merciful. “I…should find a healer. Like you said. I’m a warrior; without my sword-hand, I’m nothing at all. But, I don’t know where I might go. Narukami Island isn’t safe, not when there are eyes everywhere. If I stay here, I will be caught. I know it, so.”

Thoma and Ayaka shared a look. There was something unspoken, there. Kazuha found himself wondering how deep their connection ran. His Anemo vision gave him untold information as to a person’s true intentions, as per his connection with the wind, but he didn’t know how Pyro and Cryo interacted on a person-by-person basis.

Pyro melted Cryo. Perhaps Thoma was skilled at melting Ayaka’s shields. It would explain how a humble servant and the Himegimi herself were so close.

“Do you wish to help stop the Vision Hunt Decree, Kazuha?” asked Ayaka.

A flash of lightning. Purple tones. A familiar voice speaking familiar words. Those eyes, looking back at him one last time before a sword cut him down.

“Yes,” Kazuha said.

“There is a healer, on Watatsumi Island,” Ayaka continued, clasping her hands as Thoma rocked back to gather his towels. “Her name is Sangonomiya Kokomi. You may have heard of her.”

Kazuha had. She was the Divine Priestess, and a terrifying strategist, according to what he’d heard on the wind. “She’s also leader of the Resistance,” Thoma added, throwing the towel over Kazuha’s head. “Dry your hair, or you’ll get sick. Anyway, you might not be totally safe there, but she could definitely sort your hand out. And give you a hand at the same time. Two hands. Two birds. One stone.”

“Yes!” Ayaka nodded furiously. “They will be able to help you further, where we cannot. What do you think of the idea?”

His first thought was that it was a sound one. With his hand out of action, he wouldn’t get far in his escape from the Raiden Shogun’s forces. But, he also knew that it was not a long term solution. He’d heard whispers of the Sangonomiya Resistance in his travels, while he’d been separated from Tomo, and it had not been good news. They had been plotting for a while now, had engaged in skirmishes and discussion, but neither had yielded any fruit. The Vision Hunt Decree was not going away, and the Sakoku Decree wasn’t shifting, either.

“Do you mind if I sleep on it?” Kazuha asked, reaching up to towel his hair dry. Exhaustion was rapidly catching up with him. He hadn’t realised how heavy his eyelids had become. “I…don’t know, yet, if it’s the right path to take. I fear if I act with haste, I’ll find myself backed into a corner with nowhere to go. All I ask is if you’ll keep me for a single night, no more. I will not overstay my welcome, and I’m more than happy to pay.”

Thoma laughed, standing straight as he dumped his cloth in the water. “She’s not going to take your mora. Besides, where we’re standing, I think you could do with as much as you can get.”

“Indeed,” Ayaka said, taking the towel when Kazuha was done, carefully folding it. “This isn’t charity, Kazuha. From one noble name to another, consider my help just that; help.”

He smiled. The Kaedehara name was dust, no more noble than a beggar in Inazuma, but her kindness knew no bounds. The Himegimi Shirasagi was truly perfect, and he could only thank his fortune that it had been her who he’d run into. Had it been anyone else, his life may have been forfeit, over before he could even think to escape.

But, it didn’t quell the unease within his chest. Even as he laid down to sleep on a borrowed bed that night, the storm howled overhead, searing his senses. As exhausted as he was, he could not sleep. He replayed the scene in Tenshukaku over and over, lightning crashing down, flashing through the room, his mind, Tomo’s lips moving in silent whisper.

The question of what to do rolled around his skull. His hand burned, still, the salve Thoma had smeared across it not enough to stave off the pain. As Kazuha stared up at the ceiling, listening to every strike of rain against the roof, he knew one thing for certain; he could no longer consider Inazuma his home. The lands he’d spent his life wandering were not safe, and every other person was a threat until proven otherwise. Too many eyes. Too many mouths. Too many opportunities to be given up.

In his uninjured hand, the masterless Vision sat, held close to his chest, empty and dead. As a masterless samurai with a splintered heart, he thought he might understand why it had gone so cold.