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Childe, in the small period of time he spent in Inazuma, grew quite a liking to the nation. The weather back in Snezhnaya was cold and unforgiving, similar to the way the storms in Seirai Island ring so loud you can hear them from Ritou. The miles and miles of warm sand and sunny skies reminded him of the strolls he’d take around Guyun Stone Forest when the Fatui plan was just getting started. When he memorized every corner of Liyue even when it wasn’t necessary of him to do so. The people of Inazuma, too, left him in awe. What was once a city plagued with nothing but fear and grief now stood proud with the summer breeze. Families laughing as preparations were made for the upcoming festival. Loyal to their archon, despite it all.
If Childe allowed himself a bit more honesty, he’d admit to himself he had already made the trip to Inazuma with high expectations. It was the Balladeer's home land after all.
Ruthless, determined, stone cold. He could see hints of Scaramouche in every combat-ready guard, in every bloodied soldier of the Resistance. Perseverance clearly followed Inazuma like a hymn. No wonder the Harbinger had been so bold as to flee with the Gnosis.
Childe had spent years implementing fear into the recruits. Any fatui who turns their back on the Tsaritsa is as good as dead. They would shudder where they stood, the underlying message to never sacrifice their loyalty received loud and clear.
He frowned now. They’re only as good as dead if they can be found first.
Scaramouche might as well have disappeared off the face of Teyvat. There were fatui officials in every single one of the seven nations in hunt of the Harbinger, waiting for one wrong move from him to strike. Weeks of hunting after the traitor to no avail.
There was a silent confession to be made from all of them. The Balladeer was a damn good Harbinger.
This fact, Childe had always known.
Scaramouche was deceitful, duplicitous, cold-blooded. Childe himself hated having to keep up appearances, he found it much easier to be straightforward and prove himself in combat. However, in the chances he got to work with the other side by side, he couldn’t help but admire him , in a way.
Scaramouche could steer a conversation like no other. He could hide his true intentions with such ease that actual battle was rarely necessary. Yet Childe had seen what he could do with a weapon. He was killer.
Of course, mayhaps his most damning quality was how he could get what he wished and disappear without a trace.
Low-ranking Fatui would never find Scaramouche and live to tell the tale. So, things became desperate.
Childe couldn’t say he was surprised when he received direct orders to march into Inazuma as Tartaglia and find the traitor. Only the best could find the best. And with Signora so freshly gone, the loss of another Harbinger was not at all what Snezhnaya needed for morale.
He sighed. He also couldn’t say he was surprised to find out that he was the last of the Harbingers to be assigned to the task.
To say he and the Balladeer were friends would have been an overstatement. Scaramouche was mean and incredibly hard to work with. He had insulted Childe to his face multiple times only to grunt and walk away before the other could even respond. He’d advance their plans without informing Childe first, assuming the other to be a hurdle rather than support.
He was so fucking difficult.
But in the years they worked together, in the countless times Scaramouche had been forced to tend to Childe’s wounds, in the nights where Childe had landed a joke solid enough to receive an eye roll and a smile, they got better. As Childe shared more of himself in earnest attempts at conversation and Scaramouche had hummed instead of cursing him off, they got better.
Not friends, definitely not. Acquaintances felt too distant of a word. But they were somewhere in between, they were something . Enough of a something that Childe had allowed himself to be a little upset at Scaramouche fleeing without saying a word.
But not enough of a something that Childe didn’t feel ridiculous and puny for it afterwards.
He knew exactly why they had waited so long to send him to Inazuma. Tartaglia was a hell of an asset, but he was also the most volatile. If he felt any emotion whatsoever towards Scaramouche, he was a liability.
He remembered one time they were both far from home, weeks into an investigation that was leading nowhere. Tired, irritated Scaramouche had turned to Childe in the late hours of the night, and he’d sighed.
“I don’t think you understand how unbearable it is to talk to you, Tartaglia.” He’d said.
Childe felt brave, and stupid, and so so homesick. “Why are you doing it then, now?”
Scaramouche hadn’t replied for a heavy few minutes of silence. He stared at Childe like he couldn’t reach him, no matter how hard he tried. Those purple eyes on him had left the ginger warm in the cheeks.
When he did answer, it was a whisper. Like he hadn’t intended to say it at all.
“I don’t know why.”
Childe forced the memory out of his head.
He felt nothing towards the Balladeer, he decided. Not a liability whatsoever.
Seirai Island never failed to entertain Tartaglia.
First, the environment itself. The air buzzed with electricity and it grabbed at Childe’s exposed skin as he walked. It reminded him of what his Delusion felt like. The dizzying need for that Electro power consuming him whole.
Second, not even a full hour into his investigation of the island and he had already sighted an abandoned ship. It was almost fully deteriorated on the outside, being swallowed whole by the clusters of violet trees all around it. It was quite the sight. Childe made a mental note to return to it once he wasn’t so preoccupied.
Third, there was a cat speaking to him.
“Why would I concern myself with the whereabouts of a human other than my Hibiki?” Neko spoke in response to Childe’s questioning.
Neko, Provisional Head Priestess of the Asase Shrine, was also most certainly lying to him. He’d interacted with enough cats in his lifetime to know when one was nervous. The way her tail wrapped tight around her body was enough of a sign that she was being insincere.
He briefly considered his morals. He also briefly considered how low the Harbingers had reached. Interrogating a cat.
If his plan worked, bribing a cat as well.
“So you’re saying you’ve seen no sign of a human with a big hat and small frame?” He asked again, trying to understand what a priestess was even doing defending Scaramouche in the first place.
“That is exactly what I’m saying, meow meow.”
Childe turned his attention to the shoddy little donation box to the left. A male adventurer stood in front of it, sweating buckets as he avoided Childe’s gaze.
“Surely a generous donation might sway your mind?” He had his signature bright smile on. He had no idea how efficiently it worked on a cat.
Neko’s tail swished. “...Tomorrow, bring enough food to feed all of the kittens. I shall share some pertinent information. Then you are to never show your face here again.”
His smile was more genuine the second time around.
“Can I fish here?”
“Absolutely not.”
The second day visiting the island, he carried his weapons, a satchel full of Northland Bank mora, and fourteen kitty meals.
How the mighty have fallen…
He stopped to admire the shipwreck again. He took notice of how it looked even worse for wear than the day prior. That was interesting. He swore there were less wooden boards than before. He also took notice of how the whole ship seemed to glow under the dark skies. Childe couldn’t quite tell if the purple foliage surrounding it weren’t just playing tricks on him.
He decided Neko could wait as he began to walk closer towards the sunken deck. He could feel something… elemental coming from inside. Much stronger than some pesky slimes, what if-
“Lord Harbinger Tartaglia?!” A deep voice exclaimed, distracting his attention from the ship in front of him.
He turned to look, straightening his posture at the sight.
Three Fatui recruits stood in front of him. Two of them were struggling to hold up the third.
The unconscious one, an agent, had a gash on his torso that bled from his right shoulder to the left side of his hip. The front of his uniform dripped with blood. His legs dragged uselessly on the ground as he stood limp in his comrades’ arms.
The other two were shaking with the weight of the fallen. Childe saw the Pyro that tore through their clothes like paper and left them with third degree burns all over their bodies.
This definitely wasn’t the work of some rogue hilichurls.
“What happened?” Tartaglia asked, offering to carry the agent by himself, hoisting his body onto his back. The other two breathed out in relief.
“We… We need to get back to camp, sir. His heart’s barely beating. If we take too long we- he’ll-”
“Lead the way.” The Harbinger spoke. The wounded recruit nodded as he limped towards a tent in the distance.
The third skirmisher seemed too stunned to even follow the trio. The mask they were assigned to wear was broken in places. Childe could see his tears.
“What happened?” Childe asked, guiding him with his free hand.
“S-Sorry, sir. It’s just… We were in four.”
Tartaglia understood immediately. A heavy silence fell as the group hurried to reach their camp. It was quite close to the ship, luckily. It was only a matter of minutes.
Childe carefully placed the wounded on a blanket, watching as the two fumbled through equipment until they found an aid kit.
Childe’s gaze was cold. “Why did you leave camp without equipment?”
The one who first called out to him spoke as he uncapped some disinfectant. “We were- we needed food, sir. We weren’t expecting a battle.”
“Did your team get sent here with no hydro gunner?”
The recruit’s hands shook as he unrolled gauze. “He didn’t make it, Lord Tartaglia.”
He hummed again. The agent on the ground was barely breathing now.
“Who did this?”
The two in front of him visibly stiffened.
Tail wrapped around its body.
“J-Just a Lawachurl, sir. Right, Viktor?”
“Yeah. Yes. He was stronger than usual. Must be all the Electro energy.”
Tartaglia felt irritation at how these two recruits were still willing to lie to save face while a fellow comrade died in their arms. What was going on?
He sighed. The recruit next to the agent squeaked.
“Alright.” He kneeled, willing himself to remember his training. “I can’t fully heal him, but I can make sure he doesn’t die.”
“L-Lord?”
He produced hydro on his hands, the sensation cool and fluid on his fingertips. He closed his eyes and saw the open cut in his thoughts. He tried to imagine it healed, closing over. He imagined the ripped skin becoming soft again. He felt his vision enveloping his whole body. He was one with it.
A gasp of breath startled him out of his focus, and he opened his eyes to see the agent sitting upright.
The cut was still there, staining the gauze that circled his torso. As soon as he was fully awake, he screamed in pain. His comrades hurried to continue patching him up.
He’s not cured. But he’s survived. With Childe’s mediocre healing capabilities, it was enough.
He stood up as quickly as he had kneeled. “I must get going.”
“Y-yes, Lord Harbinger Tartaglia. Thank y-”
His glare was ice cold. “Who attacked you? Are you going to be honest this time around?”
The only response was the agent weeping, too hurt to even understand what was being said.
Childe turned his back and walked towards the shrine.
He was surprised to discover just how many cats there actually were, and just how quickly they were eating through the meals he spent hours making last night.
Neko left her position to walk towards Childe in satisfaction. “You are a man of your word, meow meow.”
He was on edge. Yesterday all he had was a hypothetical that maybe the Head Priestess had seen Scaramouche on the island. Now, he saw the way Electro stuck to that ship like residue, saw the way recruits were too scared to even admit what they had lost to.
Scaramouche was here somewhere, and Childe was busy talking to a fucking cat.
He hated using the communication route.
Neko sensed his unease. “Follow me, then.”
She led him to a small cave behind the rocks. There was an opening too small for him to reach, and soon she was carrying something out with her teeth.
He recognized it instantly.
Scaramouche’s hat.
When Childe picked it up, it felt warm to the touch. Neko began speaking once more.
“A week ago, a male human appeared at the shrine. He asked to borrow a set of clothes. I only had one of Hibiki’s, which she wore as a shrine maiden. It was raining, which upsets all of the kittens. He noticed this. With a click of his fingers, the rain stopped.”
Childe’s breath caught in his throat. The Gnosis. Scaramouche was actively using it.
“It hasn’t rained in weeks, meow meow.”
He hadn’t realized how tightly he was holding onto Scaramouche’s hat.
Childe hadn’t expected to make it this far. To be honest, there had been a fear hidden deep inside him, that he was never going to see the other again.
“Where is he?”
Neko stretched. “He might have departed. He was in quite a hurry to leave Seirai.”
The hat slipped from Childe’s hands. No, no no no no.
“Did he say anything about where he was staying?” He was growing impatient. Every second here was a second he could have been looking for Scaramouche instead.
“He mentioned the sea.”
The ship. He knew it. He was already speeding out the gates to the shrine when Neko stopped him.
“If Kunikuzushi is still in Seirai, tell him I thank him for the fair weather, meow meow.”
Childe froze in his tracks. “Who?”
“Kunikuzushi. He introduced himself as Kunikuzushi.”
Childe gasped for air as he reached the wrecked ship once more.
It definitely had more of its structure ripped out.
He yelled. “Scara? Are you here?”
Silence. Not even the wind sung with him.
A hurry to leave Seirai. So his idea was to flee.
Something ugly tugged at Childe’s chest. He yelled the other’s name once more. Nothing.
Of course that asshole would leave forever to never be seen again. Of course he’d slipped through Childe’s fingers once more. Why did he ever think he would get to have him?
Have him? Childe had no idea what he wanted anymore.
The airy sound of a seelie called his attention.
On top of the ship’s deck there was a bright blue seelie, its white eye gawking at him.
Really, he didn’t have any need for treasure, and his mission was quickly spiraling out of control. Childe couldn’t even recall the last time he’d followed one of those things.
But it wouldn’t stop looking at him. He even swore he saw it inch closer. It was pleading to be followed.
He sighed, making his way towards the seelie. He couldn’t even feel any Electro energy anymore. The ship had never felt more empty.
The seelie waited until Childe was close enough for it to start moving. He watched as the little thing made its way towards some shrubbery before promptly lowering out of his sight.
He ran to keep up. Once he looked down from his position on the deck, the seelie stared at him once more.
Right next to it was… an opening. A hole in the ship’s structure revealed a dark interior, the seelie’s light being the only thing to guide him.
He took a deep breath before hopping out of the deck and following the seelie once more.
It took him through a variety of doors and staircases, and Childe quickly realized just how large of a ship it really was.
He couldn’t even imagine where the treasure chest could be. He could imagine Scaramouche hiding away here, knowing how easy it would be to flee.
To flee. To get out of Seirai Island.
His heart ached again.
The more he was taken below the surface, the more the empty corridors were bright. There was natural sunlight pouring in from somewhere, painting the abandoned place in oranges and greens.
He saw it before the seelie even reached it. The walls of the ship giving out to make way to… a cave?
The seelie kept going, yet again making it out of his line of view. Childe prepared himself for the jump and launched himself off the structure.
So this is where the rest of the ship had ended up.
Sunlight reached him from an entrance above him, and the entire place had an aroma of flowers. It was… nice.
Childe heard the seelie to his left and he began making his way to it, content for the view if nothing else.
He stopped dead in his tracks.
The seelie stood next to… a figure. One Childe had learned to recognize in the dead of night when he knew no one would see him.
“Scaramouche?” He whispered.
The figure tensed before turning to face him.
Once again, Childe was speechless.
Scaramouche’s expression was one of confusion. His hair always looked so much fluffier without the hat, and the sun rays kissed his skin in a way that his purple eyes sparkled and the breeze feathered through his strands.
The shrine outfit he wore was loose and a few sizes too large. In this state, he isn’t the terrifying Harbinger. He’s someone on the run. He looks fragile as a crystalfly.
The Tsaritsa had been right. Seeing him like this, Childe decides he is a liability. He’d let Scaramouche go in an instant. That might have been his plan from the beginning.
“What are you doing here?” Scaramouche was so taken aback that he hadn’t even used his traditional, angry voice.
“Did you think you could get rid of me that easy?” Childe joked, knowing it never worked with Scaramouche. He still tried, though.
“If The Tsaritsa thinks she can send her most incompetent Harbinger to capture me, she’s a fool.”
A small part of Childe felt offended for Her Majesty. “I thought I was second most incompetent?”
Scaramouche’s expression was terrifyingly hard to read. “Signora died. You’re first place.”
“I do love winning.” Childe joked, but it was half-hearted. There was too much he wanted to ask. So he began.
“What are you doing, Scara?” His voice was soft again. He could tell it made the other uncomfortable.
“I leave Inazuma tomorrow morning. Obviously I can’t be here any longer, if even the likes of you found where I am.”
Childe still didn’t quite know what to say. He rarely did, around the other. “So, you’re not returning to the Fatui?”
It was the wrong thing to say, and he knew it by the way Scaramouche had gone from bothered to appalled. He even took one step further away from Childe, as if they had been close to each other in the first place.
“Of course not. I don’t need the Fatui anymore. I finally got what I had been wanting all my life.” He glared at Childe like he was an idiot for not getting it. Like he should have expected this.
Like he should be happy for him.
“You’ve been waiting your whole life for a Gnosis?” Childe asked. Scaramouche huffed.
“Power, Tartaglia. My power. What I’ve been missing.”
“It’s not yours, Scaramouche. It’s an archon’s.”
Scaramouche shook his head. “You don’t get it. I rightfully deserve this. I can thrive on my own. I don’t need the Fatui.”
Silence. It was in that moment that Childe saw the seelie hadn’t gone anywhere. It had taken Childe to Scaramouche, and nothing else.
Sometimes, when Scaramouche wanted to say something and he didn’t know how, he’d say a bunch of everything else. Childe had witnessed it before. Understood it. Kept the memory close.
“The Harbingers all work for their own personal interests. It’s clear. Signora wanted revenge. Dottore just likes the infinite resources to experiment on whatever he wants. You seek combat. I’ve wanted this. And I have it. We’re willing to follow orders as long as it benefits us. But it also holds us back.”
Childe was desperately trying to understand. Scaramouche looked like he wanted him to understand, too.
“Don’t you ever think about how much stronger you could be without the eyes of the Tsaritsa, Tartaglia? You’d be lethal. Free.”
And it hits him, and it stings.
Scaramouche could never ask Childe to go with him. Childe could never say yes.
But… had Scaramouche asked, Childe knew he’d consider. He’d decline inevitably, and it would haunt him forever.
Scaramouche didn’t ask. Childe had no reply to give.
“Where are you gonna go?”
Childe doesn’t miss it. The second of pure frustration he sees in Scaramouche’s eyes. Only there for an instant before it’s gone.
“Sumeru. Temporarily.” His tone was dry. He was done speaking to Childe. Maybe forever.
“ How? You are aware Inazuma is an archipelago?”
Scaramouche moved to the side to reveal a small, yet quite competent boat.
“I’ve used scrap material from Seiraimaru to build this. It’ll get me to Sumeru. It’s enough.”
Childe knew he should have been making an effort to hide the awed look on his face. He couldn’t.
“Woah. I didn’t know you could do that.”
Scaramouche wouldn’t even look at him. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”
Silence, again. This time it’s suffocating. It eats Childe alive. It’s everything he’s never said, never will say. He could feel Scaramouche drifting further and further away even as they stood still.
Scaramouche spoke first. He always did. “Well, if you’re done wasting my time, leave.”
Childe couldn’t. He was quickly noticing how little he functions with Scaramouche around.
“Isn’t it dangerous for you to travel on your own? There are Fatui camps everywhere.”
Scaramouche chuckled, and it sent shivers down Childe’s spine.
“I know. I’ve definitely bumped into a few.”
Fatui agent, dying. Other two, third degree overload burns.
“That was you. You killed one of the Fatui.”
Scaramouche shrugged. “Accident.”
Childe doesn’t push further.
“Like I said, Tartaglia, leave. I have more important stuff to do than babysit.” Scaramouche didn’t give him even a spare glance before turning his back to walk away.
He didn’t want this to be how it ends.
“Wait-” Childe moved to grab Scaramouche by the wrist.
Scaramouche is electric. He’s the entirety of Seirai Island.
He tried to pull his arm away. “Let. me. go -”
“Kunikuzushi.” The other froze. “Neko wanted to thank you.”
Scaramouche- Kunikuzushi said nothing.
Childe breathed in as he prepared to take a leap of faith.
“I can’t follow you tomorrow. But I can follow you today. Please, please, spend your day with me today.”
Silence, silence, silence.
Childe had gotten used to Scaramouche turning his back to him. It was what he always had done.
However, he turned around.
Unreadable. Unbreakable.
“Okay.”
Childe smiled. He felt light. Scaramouche’s touch on him felt like a thunderstorm.
“Okay.”
Inazuma City was bursting at the seams with the amount of citizens. Small shops advertised souvenirs, there was the sound of music carrying throughout the streets even though the source was nowhere to be seen. Everywhere Childe looked he could see carts full of warm meals, children giggling in traditional garments, a nation free once more.
Scaramouche had never looked more out of place as he hid behind Childe.
“There’s way too many people here. Is this part of a scheme to get me caught, Tartaglia?” He mumbled, glaring at every person who dared to look at him.
Childe chuckled. “You’re an Inazuman dressed like an Inazuman in the middle of an Inazuman festival. Why would I bring you here if I wanted the Fatui to find you?”
The other didn’t seem convinced.
Childe sighed. “It would be more inconspicuous if you stopped calling me by my Harbinger name, too.” Scaramouche huffed, still refusing to answer.
Childe could also admit to himself that he was being a little self-indulgent. Scaramouche had seen him in his home country all of the time. Now it was his turn to watch the Inazuman interact with his own culture. The city was mostly in tones of purple and gray, and Childe would be lying if he said he didn’t appreciate watching how much Scaramouche matched it all. Even if he refused to relax, every physical aspect of him practically begged to stick by Inazuma’s side, to stay home.
And he would be leaving in a matter of hours.
Childe ignored the same tug he had felt in his heart the whole day. “Sure. Instead of killing you in Seirai, where it’s deserted with no interruptions whatsoever, I’ve decided to do it here. With hundreds of witnesses.”
“As if you wouldn’t like the attention.” Scaramouche sounded pissed off, but he still stood up straighter and joined Childe at his side instead of hiding behind him.
Childe smiled. He watched as the other turned his head left and right inspecting his surroundings. Satisfied with the results, he turned to look at Childe instead. “What are we even going to do here?”
The ginger was thoroughly amused. “Have fun? I was hoping you’d know.”
Scaramouche was thoroughly confused. “Why would I possibly know?”
“What? You’re saying you’ve never been to this festival as a kid?”
Childe himself had fond memories of his childhood in Snezhnaya, he loved the annual trip his family took from Morepesok to Snezhnaya’s center for Krsnik Noc. It was always the happiest time of the year. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like to have nothing like that. To have no home to want to go back to.
Scaramouche tightened his hand into a fist. He said nothing.
Childe tried to get rid of the awkward silence by stopping in front of a native.
“Hey! What’s the best thing to do while the festival’s ongoing? I don’t know if you can tell, but I’m not from around here.”
The shopkeeper smiled. She stood in front of a variety of different kimonos for sale, ranging from the lightest of pinks to the darkest of blues. Childe briefly glanced at one that was on display. Its fabric was a nice lilac, patterned with flowers. It looked soft to the touch.
“Hello! Later tonight, there will be a fireworks show made by Naganohara Fireworks. You can see it best from Amakane Island.”
Scaramouche shifted, almost surprised to realize that he knew what that place was. “I know how to get there.”
Childe hummed. He pointed to the other next to him. “Thank you. How much for the purple kimono in his size?”
“ What- ”
“There’s currently a discount for the festival, if you’re interested.” The shopkeeper cut Scaramouche off.
Childe calmly ignored Scaramouche’s glare burning into the side of his head. “That sounds great.”
Scaramouche only spoke again once Childe had already handed the woman a hefty amount of Mora, looking at the garment on his hands like it had done something to him. “Trying to buy me into surrendering?”
Childe saw how the shopkeeper hid her laughter with her hand. “Didn’t Neko get you your current clothes from the inside of a cave? I thought you’d like some fresh clothes on me.”
“Come on,” She spoke, gesturing with her head. “You can change in the back.”
Scaramouche moved with her until he was out of sight. The shopkeeper moved towards Childe once more.
“You have a keen eye. That’s one of my finest works.” She had a teasing smile on her face as she spoke the next line. “Many people come here to buy that for their significant others.”
Childe felt his pale cheeks redden. “Ah, we…”
“I’m done.” Scaramouche spoke, suddenly showing up next to the pair. Childe jumped.
‘G-Good! Great!”
Childe took one look at Scaramouche in the soft fabrics and the gentle hues of the kimono and had to immediately turn the other way. He looked so angelic, like a porcelain doll.
“Don’t be stupid just standing there. We need to move now if you want to make it to Amakane.”
Childe forced himself to remember how short-lived this was all going to be. They’re meant to be enemies in every sense of the word. Scaramouche was a pain in the ass. He was beautiful. Childe was supposed to be turning him in. Childe was the only one Scaramouche treated as even remotely equal. He’d be leaving forever in less than a day.
Scaramouche shook his head grumbling and started moving, not caring if Childe was following him or not.
He was.
Childe sped up his pace to reach him until they were side by side once more. “Woah, don’t you think we’re a bit early? The sun’s still out.”
Scaramouche kept looking forward. “I want to stop somewhere first.”
The crowd got bigger and Scaramouche held onto Childe’s sleeve. He then seemingly realized what he did, and pulled it away in the same instant.
“Why do you even think I want to waste my time seeing fireworks, anyway?” He was clearly trying to irritate Childe into forgetting his little stunt. It never worked on Childe.
“You’re the one taking us there. I’m just humoring you, Zushi.”
Scaramouche pushed Childe with his shoulder. Hard. “Are you crazy? Don’t call me that.”
The ginger pouted. “And call you what? It’s your only name now.” A spiteful part of Childe wanted to yell to the world. You left the Fatui. You left everyone, me, behind. Why don’t you care?
“...Just don’t call me anything. You have no need for it.” Why don’t you care? Why do you want me so far away?
He kept following Scaramouche as he led them further and further away from the city’s center and closer into the countryside.
“I’m hoping I can make you irritated enough for you to spar.”
Scaramouche looked amused, despite everything. He was so fucking difficult. “Not a chance. Give it up already.”
And despite everything, Childe smiled. “Didn’t hurt to try.”
Scaramouche had taken them to a small village a short walk away from Amakane Island. Childe, for the life of him, could not understand why.
It seemed completely unremarkable, but Scaramouche had not spoken a word since they had arrived. It consisted of a few small homes close to the shore, and the elderly villagers seemed shocked just to see someone new visiting.
Qingce Village had a certain charm to it. It was so significant to the history of Liyue that it carried an air of elegance, even as the population dwindled. This one, however, felt completely ordinary. However, Scaramouche’s steps were feather-light as opposed to the commanding stance he was known to take. He moved as if he was afraid he’d destroy the pathway with a single breath.
“Huh.” Scaramouche whispered, so quiet that Childe wasn’t even sure he had spoken. “It hasn’t changed one bit.”
Childe could only attempt to piece things together. “Is… this where you grew up?”
No response. Instead, Scaramouche kept walking until they reached a bench on the outskirts of the village. A large statue of a kitsune stood proud right behind it. Childe felt watched even with no one nearby.
Scaramouche took a seat, lifting his chin to look up at the sky. Childe sat next to him, and on the small bench, their sides were pressed against each other. Childe remembered once more just how much of a liability he was.
“I didn’t grow up at all.” Scaramouche declared. Childe could only stare at him. “I was made.”
The Fatui had once dug deeper into alchemy, and the concept of a Homunculus. A living being created from chalk. Not human, but the closest it could possibly get.
“...What?”
Scaramouche didn’t turn to look at him. “I’m sure you were made aware of how the Fatui pushed Inazuma into a civil war.”
Childe hadn’t been called to Inazuma during their mission to acquire the Shogun’s Gnosis. He had received constant updates from his spot in Liyue, however. The Archon herself kept herself holed up somewhere, and the Baal the citizens knew was simply a copy.
Scaramouche gave Childe minimum time to think. “A puppet. With one goal in mind. Convincing her to announce the Vision Hunt Decree was like stealing from a baby. I was the one who informed the Tsaritsa of what she really was.”
“How did you know?” Childe had the sinking feeling that he already knew the answer before the other even responded.
“I was… her first attempt at artificial life. I was unsuccessful. The Shogun was perfected.”
Childe had no idea what to say. The sun was starting to set, and Scaramouche looked almost like a painting against the oranges and pinks of the sky. He looked perfected already.
The other wasn’t over. “I wound up in Konda Village. It mattered to me once.”
He wanted to disagree. Clearly Konda Village still mattered to Scaramouche, with how he knew the way years later, with how he hesitated to even say its name.
Childe also questioned how few even knew this information. He had no idea what suddenly made him worthy of knowing.
He let the other sit in silence as he processed everything he had been told.
He knew Scaramouche was a threat to him, to anyone who dared cross his way. He had been made to last. He had fought tooth and nail to get to where he was, and then threw it all away once it became irrelevant. He was distant, created to be a tool. A weapon, a replica. A puppet.
But when Childe turned to look at him, it was nothing like that at all. He saw how Scaramouche breathed, how his hand held the edge of the bench with how tense he was. He saw how Scaramouche was actively avoiding looking at him, like he could only be vulnerable if he spoke to no one in particular. He saw someone complex, humanly so.
He understood why the Archon wasn’t satisfied. He understood why Scaramouche wasn’t.
The Gnosis. A hunt for power that was rightfully his. A hunt to be a God.
“Is that why…” Childe began, only to realize he didn’t know what he wanted to say.
Scaramouche stood up. “It’s getting dark. Let’s go see the fireworks.”
Amakane Island was a lovely little thing. It was nothing more than lush trees, vendors, and a small rock path. Tiny lanterns scattered all throughout were enough to keep the whole thing bright even at night. The same air of festivities carried itself to there, as families bought masks and street food to share with each other.
Childe also saw a great deal of couples. He chose to ignore that fact.
Once again, Scaramouche fit right in. It had never been a secret that he was easy on the eyes, and he drew the attention of many as he walked towards the small fair with his head held high. Childe walked as close to him as possible, choosing to ignore why the stares made him feel irritated.
Their first stop was a vendor selling masks. Neither of the two knew why exactly they should wear them, but Childe had money to spare. The vendor wished them good fortune as they walked away with matching masks in hand.
Scaramouche put his own with ease. Childe struggled. Was he doomed to embarrass himself in every country that wasn’t his? His inability to use chopsticks was common knowledge.
“Are you seriously so incompetent that you can’t put a mask around your own head? You literally already have one on your right side.” Scaramouche sounded almost offended at Childe’s difficulty. He couldn’t help but laugh.
“Yeah, yeah, sorry.” He lowered his head so it was in Scaramouche’s reach. “Help me out?”
The other sighed, but lifted his hands to Childe’s hair regardless. Childe had expected him to be as rough with it as possible, but instead Scaramouche’s hands gently sorted through ginger hair to fit the mask into place. It left Childe a little dizzy.
He mumbled the whole time. “Honestly, they make anyone a Harbinger… do you ask someone to put your mask on for you every single time…”
Scaramouche’s hands had lingered for a beat too long before he pulled away. Childe felt like he could run a marathon.
“There.”
Childe smiled. “Thanks, Kunikuni.”
“What is your problem?” Scaramouche started, but Childe was already walking ahead.
There was a man selling a variety of snacks who had seen the ginger’s huge bag of Mora and was now staring at the pair so intently it was impossible to ignore, so they walked his way.
“Greetings! Care for some festival snacks?”
“Festival snacks?” Scaramouche’s question had a hint of genuine curiosity. It was nice.
The vendor had the gall to look sheepish. “It’s just normal food in wrappings, really… But food always tastes better during a festival! Right!”
Scaramouche looked fully unimpressed. The vendor looked like he wanted to fade into obscurity.
“A-Anyway! You’ll definitely like the Tricolor Dango! It’s our bestseller.”
It was a very silent purchase as Scaramouche still glared at the man in front of him.
Scaramouche was devouring the Dango in his hands as they walked, and Childe wondered how much he had eaten over the last month.
A wooden rack holding up many small plaques caught Childe’s attention as many people stood all around it, adding more of them.
There was a stall selling the same plaques right next to it, and he decided to ask.
The man cheerfully held up two of them. “Inazuman tradition. Draw a wish on a Prayer Plaque like this one, and pray that it comes true.”
The plaques were sold for a miniscule amount of money. Childe appreciated how meaningful the tradition appeared to be to the Inazumans.
“I’ll take two.”
Childe was halfway done with his drawing when he turned to see Scaramouche staring at his, blank.
“What would I even wish for? World peace?”
Childe laughed, and it scared him how softly it left his mouth. “Something you want.”
Scaramouche stopped looking at the plaque to look at Childe instead. His lips were parted as he was lost in thought, never once taking his eyes off of him.
It took a few seconds for Scaramouche to force his eyes back to the task at hand. Childe wished things were easier.
“I have everything I could possibly want right now.”
The end of the Island faced Inazuma City as it stood above the sea. Childe understood what the kimono seller meant when she mentioned the view.
Childe sat down on the grass. Scaramouche stayed up. He sighed.
“Are you the enemy of relaxing? Join me, Kuni.”
Scaramouche didn’t budge. “I have to be ready to run.” He looked to the horizon with his arms crossed and a frown on his face. His expression was such a contrast against the happy Inazumans all around them, he frankly looked ridiculous.
Childe pat the free spot next to him. “Come on. I’ll keep ya safe.”
Scaramouche spared him a glance before moving to sit down. “I doubt you’d be capable of doing anything.”
What had been a bustling island minutes ago was now quiet as the townsfolk whispered excitedly to each other. They were all gathering together, preparing for the fireworks. The pair was just another in the crowd of people. A native and a foreigner coming together to spend the evening.
Scaramouche said nothing yet he stared ahead of him with a glint in his eyes. He was excited. Childe could feel every inch where the kimono’s fabric touched his jacket sleeve. Scaramouche didn’t move away when he scooted closer.
Once more, he wished things were easier. Making a silent wish and leaving it on a rack was not enough. He wished, begged, screamed for it.
It changed nothing.
Soon enough, the show started. It was a beautiful sight, really. The fireworks shone in the sky in different colors and shapes. They sparkled together with the bright moon. They reflected on the water like millions of stars.
They reflected on the deep purple of Scaramouche’s eyes, too. Wide and attentive. Childe decided halfway through that that was the best way to view them.
When he pushed even further and touched Scaramouche’s finger with his own, the other didn’t pull away. When he fit their hands together, Scaramouche held Childe’s even tighter.
It wouldn’t last, and Childe knew. But in that moment, they’d live forever.
When they returned to Seirai Island, Childe knew their time together was running out.
He knew Scaramouche had to go. There was no way he could stay in one place, not with the way the Fatui were hunting him down, not with the way he was more than anywhere could handle.
Childe knew, but it was still so hard to let go. Things between them didn’t feel like they were ready to be done with. Childe knew he had a few more hours with Scaramouche at best. With so much unsaid, so much undecided.
He wanted to punch something. Or scream. Or rip himself to shreds just as a distraction.
Scaramouche next to him had an undecipherable expression. Childe wanted to fight until he couldn’t breathe.
He smirked. “Hey, Zushi. This might be your last chance to spar with me.”
Maybe it wasn’t the best idea to rile up someone with a Gnosis in their possession. And years of combat experience. And healing experience. And an irritable personality (and maybe an immunity to Electro? Childe didn’t ask).
It was a ridiculous idea, to think he could win. That’s why it seemed so fun.
Scaramouche chuckled bold and confident. “You’ve never been a match for me. Much less now. I’d get you killed.”
Childe considered sparring to be quite the bonding experience. He could feel his competitive streak growing inside of him. “I’d like to see you try.”
There was nothing surrounding them except for the island’s shore and an empty field.
So when Scaramouche grabbed Childe by the wrist and said “Not here. I’ll destroy the whole place. I know somewhere better.” and began pulling him towards the center of Seirai, Childe’s head was reeling.
The battle hadn’t even started, and he already felt an adrenaline rush just from the way Scaramouche felt warm against his skin. Throughout all the years they had worked together, the other had always been cold to the touch. Now, power lodged itself so deep inside of him that just brushing against him felt like being inside a furnace.
Childe knew Scaramouche was probably thrilled at the idea of going all out, or else he would have never acted so impulsively. He was going to fully lose control.
He hadn’t felt that giddy in years.
They’d stopped in front of a… portal? And Childe turned to Scaramouche hoping for an explanation. The other’s lips just quirked up like he knew something Childe didn’t.
“Buckle up.”
Several minutes later and Childe’s legs were almost too wobbly to hold him up.
“What… was that?” He asked. Was Scaramouche’s plan to sabotage him before the fight even started?
Scaramouche looked very amused. “It’s the only way to get up here.”
Childe took a few seconds to balance himself before realizing where they were.
The island itself was so far below that he could barely see it. The pair stood on a floating piece of rock. The air crackled all around him. He felt as if he could get hit with thunder at any moment. It was a wide arena. No interruptions. No worries about blowing the whole place up.
He saw a wide rock on a far end, sliced perfectly in two.
Scaramouche followed Childe’s line of sight, closing his hands into fists and channeling Electro into them. “That was my doing.”
Childe produced two Hydro blades.
In the split second before Scaramouche launched himself towards Childe like a predator, the ginger gave himself a moment of truth.
Childe was so, so attracted to him.
At first, it was an even battle.
Where Childe was impulsive, Scaramouche was calculating.
Childe used his blade to slash at Scaramouche’s left arm, but Scaramouche retaliated by grabbing ahold of the Hydro with his right and infusing Electro into it, leaving Childe twitching with electric charges all over his body.
Scaramouche created two charged walls around Childe, and the Harbinger could hear them buzzing as he teleported just outside of them.
Childe wasn’t losing, but Scaramouche granted him no breathing space. He was constantly being forced to think fast, coming up with new ways to land a hit on the other without taking a blow himself. It was quick. Wreckless. Fun.
The back-and-forth lasted a few minutes before Childe managed to create a large wave, sweeping Scaramouche off his feet.
Childe expected him to stand up, but he was still on the ground, panting heavily.
He wondered if he had already won. He began inching closer to the figure on the other side of the field, worried he had wounded him too much.
Scaramouche wasn’t facing him, but he held his shoulder as if he were in pain.
“H-Hey… You okay?” Childe asked once the two were close enough.
At that moment, Scaramouche turned to look at him. He was grinning.
His eyes glowed purple as Childe heard the sound of lightning.
Oh. Oh no.
“You didn’t think it would be that easy, did you?” Scaramouche’s voice now sounded layered, as if multiple of him were speaking. It took mere seconds for it to start raining.
Childe was in deep shit. He watched in awe as the boy, now akin to a God, lifted himself off the ground with ease.
A thunderstorm. He’d created a fucking thunderstorm just to get an edge.
He ditched his catalyst to wield a scythe in hand. It thrummed along with the weather.
Childe ran to the other end of the floating rock. He felt more worry at seeing how Scaramouche hadn’t moved to follow him.
Now, standing on opposite ends, Childe could see how he shone like a shooting star.
Scaramouche let out a chuckle before touching the ground below them with the toe of the scythe.
In a singular moment, an electrical current guided itself all the way to Childe, shocking him. He yelled in pain. It stung everywhere.
He quickly realized he was going to get nowhere like this. He needed to fight fire with fire.
Childe felt himself consumed by power as his body moved with water, forming a heavy set of armor and a double-bladed polearm.
Scaramouche looked so small from where Childe stood. His body fought an internal struggle to maintain control against the Delusion, and his mind just screamed: more, more, more.
A look of concern flashed through Scaramouche’s face. Childe took the distraction to teleport closer to him and successfully slice through Scaramouche’s side.
The shorter of the two groaned at the pain that shot through his torso and Childe felt victorious. More, more, more.
His pride was short-lived as the huge cut on the other’s hip vanished as quickly as it had appeared, even the blood fading away as Scaramouche cackled.
Scaramouche had always been the better healer of the two.
Childe summoned a fit of thunder to where the other stood, but Scaramouche teleported away in the same instant. Childe unleashed a tidal wave but Scaramouche formed a shield around himself. Didn’t leave a dent.
Childe tried over and over again to land a single blow to him, but he’d teleport away, form a shield, block it with a scythe the size of his entire body.
More, more, more. Childe’s Delusion was gnawing at his insides. It was consuming him. He needed to win, quickly.
He prepared his body for one final attempt. Hydro power the size of a whale and the strength of one, too. No shield would be strong enough to take it, and Childe knew.
He stood in the center of the arena, feeling the rain all around him and willing himself to control it. He was starting to sense it, more and more raindrops gathering together to create something huge.
Scaramouche manifested in front of him and grabbed Childe by the chin, smiling like he had already won.
“Don’t you dare, Childe.”
Before the ginger had any time to react, Scaramouche raised his scythe to the sky, his eyes glowing brighter than ever.
Childe felt it before he even knew what it was. The thundering pain was so strong he felt he was going to pass out. It broke through his state of Delusion. It broke through his skin. He knew he was bleeding. He had no idea where.
Childe fell to his knees back to his normal form as Scaramouche watched. Everything hurt so much. Whatever Scaramouche had done to him hit worse with the additional physical exhaustion of the Delusion. He wasn’t sure he’d stay alive.
Scaramouche’s eyes were still piercing as he walked to the defeated Fatui and kneeled so they were face to face.
Childe’s eyesight was blurry and his muscles ached, but everything promptly washed away when he felt Scaramouche’s lips on his.
His pain soothed. Scaramouche kissed like he demanded Childe’s attention. Childe made sure to give him all of it. He still buzzed with power.
Scaramouche was electric, and Childe could feel that electricity in his throat. Down his lungs. Singing next to his beating heart.
He decided Scaramouche was alive. So alive, more than a copy had any right to be. Childe pushed him closer, glad to find out he still had the strength to do so.
Childe felt ecstatic. On fire. But most importantly, he felt fine. What seconds ago was a body on the brink of collapse, now was completely fine.
Scaramouche broke off the kiss but kept his proximity. Childe could feel his breath on his lips.
He was still in a daze, his mind clouded as he tried to speak. “What… What did you do?”
“I won.” Childe was trying his hardest to push further. Ask why Scaramouche had fully healed him, what had he even done to get Childe that bruised up in the first place. But Scaramouche was using his thumb to caress Childe’s cheek, and his mind was blank.
“If I let you win again, will you kiss me one more time?”
Scaramouche’s laugh was gentle. The Harbinger had never heard it before. He could take over the whole fucking world in that moment.
“You’re such an idiot.” Scaramouche said. He leaned in again.
The pair could only tell it was morning despite Seirai’s ever-dark skies because of the shine of the sun rising.
Childe had helped Scaramouche carry his boat from the cave all the way to the west end of the island. The water was calm. Perfect for navigating. Teyvat had some sort of personal grudge against Childe.
Scaramouche was quiet. He didn’t seem flustered, he just seemed like he had kissed Childe within an inch of his life, and now didn’t know what to do with himself.
It was a little cute how he tapped his finger against the side of the boat in a nervous habit. Childe pushed that thought down.
If the day before he felt a tug at his heart, now he felt an entire pull. He felt his heart scratching at his walls to make it out, to follow Scaramouche to the end of the fucking world.
Not for the first time, and definitely not the last, he wished things were easier.
Childe had spent so many hours pretending this wasn’t actually going to happen. He’d been expecting one of them to give up, or expecting that Inazuma would explode before he had to say goodbye. Or anything, really. Other than this. Other than seeing Scaramouche stare at the horizon, determined to go.
“You won’t achieve anything by clinging to the Fatui.” Scaramouche’s tone was pleading. This was his last attempt at getting Childe to go. It was the only thing he could do besides just asking him directly.
Childe supposed he was pleading, too. “And you’ll be on the run forever.”
The discussion ended there.
It was silent as Scaramouche sat in the boat and allowed Childe to push it to the coast, its bow already below the water.
This was it. One final push and Scaramouche would be moved by the tide, further and further away.
Scaramouche refused to look at him. They were different in so many ways. Childe couldn’t stop looking at him, trying to commit every inch of his face to memory.
Something still nagged at him, though. One final thing he needed to get out of his chest.
“Ajax.” Childe said. Scaramouche was so distracted that he jumped in his seat.
“What?”
“My name. The real one. It’s Ajax. In case you ever need to find me.”
Despite all odds, Scaramouche showed him a small smile. It was the fondest he’d ever seen.
“Okay.”
Childe carefully lifted some of Scaramouche’s hair, moving to plant a kiss behind the other’s ear. The soft strands moved back into place to hide it. Their little secret. Childe’s parting gift.
At that moment, with a small gasp leaving Scaramouche’s lips, and the delicate pink dusting Childe’s cheeks, they weren’t anyone important. Anything important.
They were Kunikuzushi and Ajax. A wanderer who loved a village, and a fisherman from a family of many. Nothing more. They were everything.
As they both went opposite directions, Childe gave himself a moment of weakness.
He turned to look back at the other.
Scaramouche wasn’t looking at him. But his hand was behind his ear like he was trying to hold Childe’s kiss there with his touch, his body turned to the beach even if his head wasn’t.
It was enough.