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Chapter Text

Aether still remembers the first time he met the Balladeer. If he closed his eyes, he would feel the wind on his skin when he and Fischl first approached him. When he feigned innocence and concealed his identity as a harbinger.

He also remembers the feeling of Mona grabbing his wrist, the pop of her illusionary bubbles against his face, and the change between hopefulness within purple eyes, to deep violet that held nothing but disdain. When the three of them had gotten away due to Mona’s intervention, Aether felt his stomach flip as he realizes once more, that the world was cruel. That being given a pretty smile is never absolute. And from the moment he gave Mondstadt his aid, a bounty was placed over his head, and he would know peace no more.

It was the first real wake-up call he had in Teyvat. He was mature, of course, in his previous worlds he knew better than to flash a smile and trust everyone who returned one, but this was Teyvat—a place he’d grown to feel safe. But when Mona’s bubble popped them somewhere farther away, Aether’s illusion—the foolish indulgence he’d allowed himself within the comfort of Mondstadt—popped as well.

He had to accept Teyvat was not safe.

Not for him.

Not anymore.

Regardless, Aether continued his travels.

. . .

During his time in Inazuma, he truly began to realize how weak he was now that most of his divinity was stripped away. Though he could not die traditionally with old age, the lightning flash of a violet spear, cold unforgiving eyes, and the fear that had slipped into his limbs would certainly lead him to death.

It was just one thing after another.

Just trying to leave Ritou was an ordeal, then having to be dragged into a war, nearly dying at the hand of the Shogun, fighting a battle that served him no use, watching Teppei’s life fade away day after day, and of course—

“Embrace the anger!” The Balladeer grinned, mouth stretched wide as he gazed down at Aether’s crumbled form before him, “ Embrace it !”

—meeting him again.

But he did as he was told. Not for the Balladeer, but for Teppei, and for himself. He embraced the anger he was feeling, an emotion he did not let himself feel often. He buried himself in it until it was tingling at the tips of his fingers and pulsing on the soles of his feet. A power that was once locked away by an unknown god slipped through a crack created purely out of overwhelming hatred. A hatred that burnt so bright, Aether felt as if he were on fire. That he could feel the searing edge of a knife cutting open his chest to let out what was locked away.

Thinking back on it, it was the Balladeer branding him. Filling him with a deep hatred, he’s unsure if it’ll ever leave his body.

But within the purple mist, and the worried pleas of Paimon, through his unsteady gaze and the crushing weight of his own regrets, Aether felt a string that was bound too tight keeping away what was buried within him, snap. 

He can remember the delicious look of pure shock on the harbinger’s face when Aether launched at him with a speed he hasn’t reached since before his time in Teyvat as he punched the man in the face with all the elements he currently possessed. He remembers the satisfying crunch of the wooden wall breaking underneath the Balladeer’s weight, and the euphonious thump of him falling to the floor limp.

But it was too much on his already weakened body; and as Aether tumbled to the floor once more, bleary eyes barely able to process visual stimuli, he remembers seeing a manic grin on the face of a twisted man.

Soon after, he fell unconscious.

But staring before him in the Sanctuary of Surasthana, panicked shouts echo in Aether’s head. The false god pleads desperately—something Aether was not aware he was capable of—as he reaches towards the gnosis Nahida was pulling slowly from the large mecha. His hands are clambering for what he claims is his, nearly begging as he tries to get out of the robot.

“ That’s mine !” He shouts. Aether can’t help but watch from below, tired from the fight and mentally exhausted by the situation. But there was a part of him, a part that the pleading reaches, and he feels his heart ache for a faint memory this man was cruelly reminding him of.

“Please!” Even from below, Aether can see pure and utter despair clear on the harbinger’s face. It spreads across his pale skin, and Aether tries to close himself off, shutting away his soul before the guttural pleads for what could’ve been reaches him in ways he doesn’t want them to.

“I’ll-” 

But Aether has always been the more empathetic of the twins, and he can’t help but swallow apprehensively as he tries to push down the memories he’d absorbed from the man who pleads before him. He tries to shut his eyes and shake away the thoughts of a boy who was discarded and left to fend for himself, but he appears behind his eyelids too, wandering aimlessly in a world that didn’t want him.

“- I’ll never go back !”

Nahida grasps the violet gnosis in her small hand at the same time as the false god is able to rip himself from the mechanism he’d been inside, but the damage had already been done, and Aether watches as the man lets himself fall.

He shouldn’t catch him. He really, really shouldn’t. The Balladeer has tried to kill him on countless occasions and has successfully achieved killing some of his friends. A part of him wants to watch him fall, wants to hear the echoing crack to heal the part of himself that had been damaged when Teppei had left him.

But there was another part of him, a stronger, divine part of him that calls out to the falling doll before him, remembering a past too familiar to his own.

“If you fall,” he remembers Lumine saying as she rubs the space between his wings, “I will always be there to catch you.” 

But Aether watches as the Balladeer accepts that he was never meant to be, watches the hope and the life fade from his eyes, and his body moves before his mind can tell him to stop.

Aether catches him on his way down.

Chapter Text

Kunikuzushi was a soft boy. He was emotional, easily persuaded, innocent and kind. He was the part of Scaramouche that was human.

He was also the part of him that had forsaken his fate simply by existing.

So each day, Scaramouche kills that boy. He kills him each night but finds him alive once more in the morning. No matter how much he tries to rid himself of his own humanity, the very thing that had ruined his life, it stays attached to him like a parasite. 

He’s thought about cutting it out of him.

He tries not to think about it often.

But here, as he falls from godhood and plummets toward the floor, he thinks that it’s finally time. That Kunikuzushi will finally die once and for all.

(And if Scaramouche dies along with him, he doesn’t think much of it. He accepts his fate. He accepts what he’s given.)

But of course, just as he readies himself for whatever was past the living world, to finally be free from the constant ache of just existing as himself, a stupid man with a stupid braid, catches him before he can make contact with the ground.

But from the emotional carnage on his heart to the fast speed of falling, Scaramouche passes out in warm arms that grip him too tightly for his liking.

If Scaramouche was conscious for a few seconds longer he reckons he would’ve punched the man in his stupidly pretty face.

(But he fails to accept that Kunikuzushi was holding him just as desperately, unable to let go in fear that he may truly lose himself for the last time.)

. . .

A memory comes to visit him in a dream. It feels soft, comforting almost. 

Calm.

He opens his eyes and immediately, Scaramouche is aware this is a dream. He sits up, the feeling of cool grass against his palms and faintly familiar attire draped over his body. The sunrises of Inazuma greeted him, coaxing him to sit properly and take in his surroundings.

It’s been a while since he’s seen sunsets like this. The beautiful kind. The kind where he would sneak away from his creator, to a distant field, and just stand. Just exist underneath the warmth of the sky, of the comfort of pink bleeding into a deeper violet. The kind of sunsets that let him exist. To breathe, feel the wind in his hair and life on his lips, and do nothing more than simply exist .

Sunsets stopped being beautiful after he was abandoned.

The world stopped being beautiful after he was abandoned. 

“You shouldn’t sleep here,” there’s a voice nearby, calling out to him. He was unfamiliar enough with the presence to feel uncomfortable beneath this person’s gaze but familiar enough for him to know he was safe.

He looks to his side and finds himself staring at someone too familiar.

Silky blonde hair that’s surely made out of the silk of the sun, sinewy limbs of the purest sand yet tattered with small, faded battle scars. Golden eyes.

Scaramouche tries to open his mouth, tries to voice his confusion. Because he’s never met Aether during this time. Aether clearly has never met him when he was like this either.

Aether only knows Scaramouche.

He does not know of Kunikuzushi.

So then, how?

Then the person turns to face him, facing their back to the fading sun and the gentle waves of the ocean.

Because this was not Aether. The voice was lighter, feminine.

“Once the sun sets, it becomes dangerous,” she remarks, helping the confused and quite conflicted Scaramouche to his feet. “Go home, kid.”

The woman is staring at him with an odd expression. He’s more than likely giving her an even more odd one.

“Who are you?”

“Just a wanderer,” she shrugs. “Do you need help returning home?”

“Why are you wandering? What’s the point? What are you trying to achieve?” Scaramouche asks. His brows are pinched together and he’s sure he’s making a funny face but those were the least of his concerns.

The lady gives him a guarded look, more than likely off-put by the sudden onslaught of questions, but indulges him nonetheless, “Looking for someone.”

She begins to walk, dragging him back towards the city with a secured grip on his wrist, “By the way, have you seen a guy my height? He looks just like me.”

There’s a shine in her eyes that Scaramouche loathes. It’s familiar. That stupid googly-eyed look that stupid traveler had all the time.

Except for the few times that light died out.

And Aether leveled Scaramouche with a look of unadulterated contempt.

He thinks those times were his favorites.

Scaramouche allows himself to be led toward the city within the safety of his dreamscape. He puts on a smile that feels too real in this old body, but too fake to his soul, “Tell me more.”

Scaramouche wanders within the mist of his own dreams. Of foggy memories and repressed feelings.

But no matter how long this dream seems to drag on for, he has yet to wake up.

Unbeknownst to him, someone has already done it for him.

Kunikuzushi shuffles, eyes fluttering open, and violet, innocent eyes wake to greet the world.

. . .

Aether leans against the wall of the Sanctuary of Surasthana, unease pooling in his gut and pulsing in his bandaged wounds. It’s been a few days following the events that led up to battle (in less kind words, overthrowing the government and getting his ass kicked) and Aether has yet to come to terms with it. With any of it.

He knows he should be resting, knows that if Cyno or Dehya or god forbid Tighnari finds him, he’ll get torn a new one. That there was no point to be so anxious, no reasoning behind the restlessness in his twitching limbs, and the conflict swirling in his pounding head.

Aether continues to lean against the Sanctuary of Surasthana. He attempts to push back the memory of Dottore approaching him and Nahida as Paimon fainted beside them. How he watched with disdain and unease as Nahida handed over both the electro and dendro gnosis’. It felt wrong to let Dottore walk away like that.

Aether remembers gripping his sword, his blood singing for a fight despite the bruises swelling against his skin, he remembers misdirected anger and emotion pouring out of his body like he could kill Dottore if he wished it enough, and how Buer, not Nahida, how Buer had to level him with a look to keep him in his place.

Don’t act rashly, her voice rang in his head. 

He remembers the way Nahida had a pained look on her face at that moment before subsiding when her voice withered from his mind.

Aether wonders if it was because he’d been screaming so loudly, his mind so jumbled with incoherent nothingness that it had pained her to listen, even for a moment.

Aether forced himself back to the present, shaking his head to clear his mind of the prior events. He traced awkward circles into the wall to focus.

There’s supposed to be a party for Cyno soon.

Strangely, Aether doesn’t feel like going.

He thumps his head against the wall, stretches out his legs, and stares idly at the sky. He picks at the bandages wrapped around his hand and the gauze on his arm.

Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he wonders if Scaramouche has woken up yet.

Somewhere, in the same place, he hopes he never does.

Aether closes his eyes.

. . .

Kunikuzushi wakes unpleasantly, unfamiliar pain pounding through his body and burning along his back. He feels misplaced in his own body and more so as he takes a look around the room. The boy attempts to shuffle and adjust his position, to move his stiff limbs but decides against it, slumping against the pillow when pain strikes him to rest.

The interior design is nothing like Inazuma. It’s different. Unfamiliar. Even the air felt different here. It was stiffer, electric, and thick with perturbation.

“Hello?” He calls out nervously, “Is anyone there?”

“Mother?”

Small and light footsteps patter towards the closed door across the grandiose room. Kunikuzushi holds his breath when the door opens.

A little girl stands in the doorway. She’s barely able to even reach the handle. He has the urge to demand where he was and how he had gotten all these injuries but he was too soft when it comes to children, so he elides his sense of urgency.

“You’re awake,” she states, closing the door gently behind him and continuing to walk toward his bedside. She reaches for his arm and lazily helps him to sit properly. She sits on a stool (like a high chair, Kunikuzushi muses) and examines his wounds.

Her touch is gentle and leaves a calming buzz underneath his skin. It allows his limbs to relax and chases away the tension in his body. He watches her watch him, emerald eyes checking him over, replacing the bandages on his back. He sits there quietly and lets her, unsure of what else he could do.

The girl seems to become more conflicted with each passing minute, pale brows pinched together, ruminating something over in her head. Though she’s clearly younger than him, Kunikuzushi can’t help but feel as if she was more mature. She appears to be a child but she feels wiser than him.

“How are you feeling? Content to talk?” She asks him, sitting straight on her stool and staring him in the eye.

“I’m sorry but-” He fiddles with the ends of the loose robe he’s wrapped in, “-do I know you?”

Shellshocked, the little girl stares at him, mouth open and jaw dropped slightly, “Pardon?” She coughs into her elbow and clears her throat before taking a moment to access the situation further (mature, Kunikuzushi thinks, why do you feel so mature?). “Scaramouche, do you know where you are?”

“Scaramouche?” He repeats, testing the name on his tongue. He feels like this situation should alarm him, that being called an unfamiliar name should cause tension to rise in his body, but his shoulders stay dropped and his hands hold no trembles. It was as if this body was familiar with this name but he was not.

“I know of no one with that name.” He responds, hesitant to meet the child’s gaze, “My name is Kunikuzushi. May I ask where I am?”

. . .

Paimon looks between the closed door behind Nahida and Nahida herself about ten times before a conflicted yelp leaves her, “What do you mean he lost his memory ?”

Aether digests the information slowly, his brain unable to comprehend the weight of the full situation. Such as how would this affect how they planned to move forward? Is Sumeru safer? Was this a good thing? How does Nahida feel? How many memories has he lost? Does this make him vulnerable to outer influence, such as the Fatui? Why does he feel so conflicted?

Is the feeling swirling in his gut relief or something else?

Does this mean he could-

“I’m unsure,” Nahida responded, low and soft. Calm. Taking the initiative to be the sensible one, “I do not know the Balladeer as well as you do, so I sought your help.”

Aether gives her a look.

She looks back.

He lets out a sigh and rubs the back of his head, loose strands of his messy braid being pulled out by dirty nails, “I doubt I’ll be much help. I barely know the guy other than the fact he loves making my life miserable.”

“But still, you know more than the rest of us, do you not?”

Aether has to admit that logically, his presence in an interrogation with a freshly new Scaramouche would be more helpful than others, but the thought of seeing his stupid little face again makes him queasy. He also doesn’t like the fact it makes them sound close or familiar with each other.

They were not close or familiar. Aether scoffs at the mere idea of having anything in common with the brat.

Nahida gestures towards the door to Scaramouche’s resting room and he dreads hearing that grating, sassy, sarcastic voice for even a second, but decides he has no other choice and opens the door.

Paimon peeks over an armored shoulder, shielded behind Aether’s looming presence as the three of them enter the room, closing the door behind them. Scaramouche sits up, covered in bandages and gauze and taking nibbles out of apple slices like a bunny.

He seems to notice their presence and turns his body to face them, wincing with the sudden pain that follows his own movements.

Aether is prepared for a snarky remark, fully expecting this loss of memory thing to be a lie, and waits for the man to launch across the room and try and tear his throat out.

But that doesn’t happen.

In fact, Aether feels as if he was in the presence of an entirely different person.

The Scaramouche before him lacks the usual tenseness in his body, the strain of his shoulders that bears the weight of his own malice. He lacks the scowl accumulated from centuries worth of hate and rancor, and the previous dark purple devoid of nothing but abhor seems brighter—more innocent, more accepting, kinder.

This was not Balladeer. It wasn’t even Scaramouche.

“Hello,” the boy speaks, weary and nearly timid. His posture is guarded but his presence is welcoming.

Aether swallows nervously, his gut stirring and mind failing to catch up as he stares and stares at the boy who is Kunikuzushi. 

“So, you don’t remember Paimon at all?!” Paimon asks, frantically pointing at herself as the boy fails to understand what this floating child even was. He shakes his head.

She precedes to point to Nahida, “Not even her??” Kunikuzushi shakes his head again.

Paimon gasps woefully as if this was indeed a terrible outcome, “N-Not even Aether ??!?!” 

The puppet glances at the other man and holds his gaze long enough to make him uncomfortable. Something passes over his face and the glint in his eyes changes, but it’s too fast and too rare for Aether to identify before it disappears.

He shakes his head once more, “Apologies.”

Aether pretends not to shiver when he hears a genuine apology from someone with the same voice that killed one of his soldiers (and multiple attempts on him too).

“You don’t need to apologize,” Nahida says, shaking her head as she gently pushes Paimon behind her to give the man some space. “Do you mind if we ask you some questions?”

Bandaged shoulders shrug, face indifferent, but Kunikuzushi agrees nonetheless.

He’s asked the basic questions Aether assumed an amnesiac would need to be asked.

“What is your name?” Kunikuzushi.

“Do you know where you are?” No.

“What is the last thing you remember?” Leaving the city to watch the sunset.

“Do you remember any members of your family?” Yes.

“Do you know where you’re from?” Yes.

Aether watches for any indication that he’s lying but can’t find anything. This wasn’t the person he knew, this was a stranger. The only thing familiar about the person before him is how uncomfortable he feels beneath his gaze. Even if the violet in his eyes was no longer murky and dark, but instead bright and innocent, it sends a shiver down his spine and he has to force himself to look away.

Once Nahida’s mock interview concludes, Aether surmises that this was Kunikuzushi before the fatui found him. He holds no malice, even in unfamiliar territory. Even if he has his guard up, he still manages to hold kindness in his eyes.

But there was a distant kind of sadness in Kunikuzushi’s eyes that tells Aether he’s already felt pain.

Aether pushes down the part of him that feels relieved.

That this was the version of Scaramouche that once knew peace. A version of himself where the world had yet to turn its back on him, that even if his mother had abandoned him, there must’ve been someone to keep him away from the path he would eventually walk. 

A part of him is comforted by the thought.

A part of him is also angry. Angry because he doesn’t believe someone like him deserves even a sliver of peace.

Both parts of him scream and he thinks they might just rip him in half.

By the time Nahida decides Aether’s presence is no longer needed and decides its best to recount the past events herself, Aether is drained of his energy. Even if he played no important role himself.

He ignores the way he can feel Kunikuzushi’s gaze on his back as he leaves and also ignores the plead written in solemn violet for him to stay.

. . .

Nahida closes the door behind her as she meets Aether and Paimon out in the hallway. She’d stayed with Kunikuzushi until he fully understood the current situation and only left when he’d calmed down enough for sleep to take him once more.

Green eyes gaze up at the golden traveler. Aether was leaning against the wall, eyes set on the end of the hallway but not actually seeing his surroundings.

He’s inside his own head a lot recently, she notes before alerting him of her presence.

“So,” Paimon speaks, always the first to initiate a conversation in her companion’s place, “-do you know what happened?”

“I have a theory,” Nahida nods, “-but I’m unsure how to go about it. It’s just a hunch really but I’m unable to properly put it to the test.”

Aether stares at her with expecting eyes as she continues, “It seems as if Scaramouche has been split.”

Paimon looks even more confused, “Split? What do you mean split?!”

“It seems that the results of the fight that took place in the Sanctuary of Surasthana have taken an exceptional toll on his mental and emotional wellbeing,” Nahida explains, painting them visual examples with strokes of green energy, “The moment I took the gnosis from him, he’d lost his current purpose to live. I believe he no longer knows what to do with himself, so Scaramouche has locked himself away in his own consciousness.”

Aether’s face fills with clear disdain before he shakes his head and sighs, “I don’t follow.”

“I was able to take a peak into Kunikuzushi’s mind while we were investigating him,” the god explains, “and despite being awake and conversing with us, completely in control of his body, his thoughts, his movements, and his emotions, I still saw Scaramouche dreaming. I believe that Scaramouche identifies himself as completely separate from Kunikuzushi.”

As if he was reborn in the fire, Aether thinks, recalling the memories he’d seen of Scaramouche while protecting Hapaysia. 

“I believe that Scaramouche is so conflicted and has retreated into himself as a safety precaution. Although, I don’t think he’s aware of this himself.”

“Makes sense,” Paimon responds, “-no matter how much of a sore loser he is, I don’t really think he’d let us meet him in the past so easily.”

“So he’s stuck in a dream he can’t wake up from,” Aether concludes.

Nahida nods her head, “Precisely.”

“That’s crazy,” Paimon mumbles, hand on her head as she tries to process the newfound progress in their current dilemma. “Have you seen anything like this before, Nahida?”

“Yes and no,” the girl sighs, “I’ve seen similar situations wherein a person has become either too detached or too terrified of reality they leave the waking world behind to cope, but I’ve never seen a case as extreme as his. To be awake while not awake…” she mumbles, trailing off as she thinks, shaking her head after a moment of organizing her thoughts, “-it’s absurd, and should be impossible.”

“So,” Aether mutters, “-what do we do now?” What does this mean for the Balladeer?

“Honestly, I don’t think this is going to end well for Scaramouche,” Nahida sighs, “Even in cases far less extreme than his, due to the emotional turmoil it’ll eventually affect the mind. In their cases, it usually ends with them abandoning their real-world body to continue a fake life.”

A solemn look passes over the girl’s face, “But since his case is so exceptional and so severe, I surmise that if we don’t find a solution to this soon, it’ll cause a full-on collapse of his subconscious mind.”

“Scaramouche would disappear along with Kunikuzushi’s ability to dream, along with a plentiful amount of his emotional functions and mental understandings. If not Kunikuzushi disappearing himself.”

Paimon pursed her lips, clearly disturbed by the new events, “So you’re saying that if we can’t wake the Balladeer up he would just become like…a lifeless puppet?”

Nahida nods firmly, “Exactly.”

Aether tries to ignore the heavyweight that drops in his chest, unease spreading throughout the rest of his body at the thought of him; that snarky, smug, stupid, annoying, and down-right evil man being…lifeless. Was that even possible?

Despite that, Aether’s mouth moves before his mind catches up, “So? It’s not our problem.”

Paimon has the gall to turn toward him, slightly appalled and extremely shocked. Nahida wears a smaller, less reactive face, but it gets the same message across.

“Of course, it’s our problem!” The small fairy practically shrieks, stomping her foot mid-air to express her dislike, “Why wouldn’t it be our problem.”

“I don’t know,” Aether shrugs, the past events making him feel petty enough to be a bit cruel to the girls, “-maybe the fact that he’d tried to kill me on multiple occasions, is wanted in Inazuma for a list of war crimes, killed one of my soldiers- which, by the way, is a bit of a big deal to me, and not to mention the long list of inconveniences he’s caused in just the last week .”

Paimon opens her mouth to refute but finds herself a bit stumped before closing her mouth and huffing, “Well, I guess you do have a point-” but she catches herself before agreeing, “-but that doesn’t mean we should let him die!”

Aether can’t help but roll his eyes, mumbling under his breath, “I don’t see why not, the prick gets what he deserves.” 

Tension rises in the air and thickens around them. Nahida is staring holes into Aether but he refuses to meet her eye. He doesn’t want to hear what she has to say, he doesn’t want to hear her tell him something that’ll make him hesitate. He does not wish to hear the truth.

But the gods have never once been in his favor and Nahida’s voice speaks lightly, “Is that really what you want?”

“Of course, it is.” Aether all but snaps, the stress of the past few days finally reaching an all-time high.

“You want him dead, that much is true,” Nahida says, low and slow even if the words leaving her mouth make her visibly uncomfortable, “-but is that really how you wish for him to die?”

“Pardon?” he asks.

“Well, it’s just-” Green eyes stare at him with endless words and understandings pooling within emerald surfaces, the kind of green that could only look so bright when it belongs to a god, 

Aether has never hated the color green more than right now.

“-do you really wish for the Balladeer to die in a way where he doesn’t even know? Doesn’t know how, when, or even who he is?”

Do you wish for him to die alone?

Do you wish for him to perish with nobody around, not even the killer, not even his true self?

Aether bites his lip, fists clenched with unresolved hatred and anger. Even though it’s already the following night, Nahida’s thoughts and words have carried into his mind, plaguing his already dreadful sleep schedule and clouding his reasoning.

He sits solemnly underneath a tree, bathing beneath the world’s fake moon in hopes of reassurance and familiarity, “I don’t know.” Aether whispers to no one but himself.

But he does know. He knows what his answer is. Knows that by tomorrow morning, he’ll be back at the Sanctuary of Surasthana to drag Scaramouche back by his stupid hair so he can kick his ass for even thinking of dying by anyone but Aether’s hand.

But he pretends he does not know. Because knowing would solidify the fact that he does not want to let the other disappear. Not in this way. Not like that.

His head thumps against the tree and he looks up, suddenly thankful that Teyvat’s sky is fake otherwise he’d be underneath the cosmos’ scrutinizing gaze and its endlessly mocking constellations.

He closes his eyes and allows himself to dream.

Though he’d forget this dream in the morning, Aether indulges in his own subconscious desires and lets this newborn god converse with a newly created doll as they share their interests in humans and the stars.

… 

The stars have never felt so far before. Home has never felt so unreachable other than tonight. His wings ache and his skin pulses with pain. He shivers against the cold grass but his other half pulls him closer.

He feels helpless but desperate all the same. Longing clogs his throat and he can feel already fading memories leak from his eyes, “Why?”

Why would you follow me?

It was just meant to be me. Why would you go to such lengths for me?

Why abandon your life for me?

Why me?

He feels a solemn smile against his skin as she pulls him closer, laying one of her wings around the both of them to keep them warm, “Because, without you, the stars have no meaning. Because no matter how much of the galaxy I travel, there will never be another you.”

“I couldn’t let you die alone.”

“Solitude is the worse thing you can experience,” she whispers softly, “-for you, are meant for the people. The stars no longer define you, the rules no longer apply to us.”

“So do what you want.”

He cannot help but cry, “What is it I want…?”

“To love. To love the tiny mortals we watch over every day. To love the wind on your skin and to love the food spanning across the realms. To feel all the emotions divinity has taken from us.”

“We are no longer bound to the rules written in the sky, for you and I, are freedom.”

Chapter Text

Scaramouche wades in the warm water, feet in the sand of Inazuma’s shores as the waves come and go in a steady oscillation. It never reaches farther than his hips.

He feels like he’s dreaming, but with each passing day(?), he begins to feel more and more awake. More lucid. Maybe he did die that day. Perhaps being caught by that traveler was simply wishful thinking.

…

Not wishful thinking. Just. Thinking. 

A hallucination, probably. All the emotional turmoil from the battle had surely gotten to his head, and the gods were perhaps making him suffer before death claimed him.

He surely hopes that’s the case. Being caught by the insufferable bastard…archons, how embarrassing, he’d never be able to live it down. He’d much rather prefer death, thank you very much.

Although, here, in this fuzzy land that doesn’t feel real, he’s unsure whether he was dreaming or true and well gone.

Scaramouche thinks the ladder is unlikely.

There was no way such peace was waiting for someone like him after death.

Kunikuzushi carefully stretched his limbs. He’d been forced to lie down by the little lady named Nahida, but due to the lack of movement, his limbs were beginning to feel stiff. His neck was sore, and he couldn’t help but sigh.

This entire situation felt so odd to him. He was in an unfamiliar land inside an unfamiliar body surrounded by unfamiliar people.

As he waits in the empty room, he recalls the exchanges he’d had yesterday. How Nahida had introduced herself as the God of Wisdom, the one with divine hold over Sumeru, and how the floating child had introduced herself as Paimon.

Then there was…him.

He was odd. But pretty. Very pretty.

Kunikuzushi wondered what he’d done to upset such a beautiful man because he was sure if looks could kill, he’d be double dead right now. But despite the nasty glare he sends his way, he was undoubtedly the most interesting out of the three.

Aether, they’d call him.

A fitting name, he thinks.

He can’t help but wonder what actions had led to where he was now. What he’d done to get Aether to look at him with such pain and anguish, like he was debating between crying or killing. He just seemed so angry, and yet, Kunikuzushi could feel all the kindness he was capable of coming off him in waves.

He looks down at his hands which are covered in light bruises.

He wonders if he can be subjected to that kindness too.

As Kunikuzushi sits by the window, staring idly into the sky, waiting for his new companions to come keep him company, he wonders what Aether looks like when he smiled.

And if it was just as gentle as the wandering woman of his past that he can’t help but imagine is the golden boy’s sister.

…

Aether begrudgingly walks to Scaramo- no, Kunikuzushi’s temporary residence. Paimon floats beside him, talking animatedly about a new special in the cafe that he really couldn’t care less about. He smiles tiredly and nods along regardless.

He’d taken the entire morning to mentally prepare himself for whatever today threw his way, and despite it being well into the afternoon, he could not help but feel underprepared.

By the time Aether is standing before Kunikuzushi’s bedroom door, he feels as if he was going to explode. He hasn’t even seen the man today, and he feels like the stress was going to tear him apart.

He lets out a sigh, planning to take a moment before opening the door.

Paimon decides to ruin his peace, as per usual, and flings the door open. She bounces in with boundless energy despite being so small and Aether can only stand in the doorway, wishing he could disappear and become one with the earth.

Violet eyes peer up at him from where he sits on the edge of the bed beside Nahida.

Aether suppresses a shiver.

Kunikuzushi offers him a hesitant wave, a silent plea to put his glower aside and speak to him like a civilized man.

Aether’s natural instincts react and he already feels the explosive want to spit in his face just to spite him. He wills it down and raises his hand. His fingers twitch.

It’s half a wave at best, but the other boy seems pleased and beckons him to join the rest.

“Good afternoon, Aether,” Nahida spoke, nodding her head in his direction politely, “-and you as well, Paimon.”

“Paimon greets you a good afternoon too, Nahida!!” The girl exclaimed, waving her tiny hands in excitement. She turns her attention to Kunikuzushi and they awkwardly give each other a small smile and a light greeting.

Aether hums, walking closer to everyone with light footsteps and calculated movements. Although this may not be the Balladeer, it looks like him, and that much still has his body on high alert. 

He stands behind Paimon as the girls converse with Kunikuzushi. They lead the conversation lightly with kind topics and happy words. Aether finds nothing to input, so he stays silent. Instead, he just watches. 

Watches the way Kunikuzushi shifts his weight back in forth when the girls seem to let off too much energy, and Aether has to pull Paimon back gently so she’s not right in front of his face. He watches how he smiles bashfully, ears tipped with a light flush that seems so alien and yet so fitting for his small face whenever Nahida complements him. He also notices how Kunikuzushi’s face dries up whenever asked questions too intimately intertwined with his past, and how he almost retreats into himself when the conversation is suddenly dislikable.

When this happens, the boy glances over. There’s a small plea, silent from his mouth yet loud with his body language, as he looks towards Aether for help and guidance.

He responds by adding his own input, something to throw the girls off, and eventually changing the topic to something new.

He also pretends not to see the way Kunikuzushi relaxes and looks at him with this absurd softness. Like a thank you.

Aether hates it. He hates being looked at like that. Not from him. Not with his eyes.

But eventually, Kunikuzushi ends up washed away in the new topic and the offer for snacks, and his eyes leave Aether. He feels like he can breathe easier.

It’s almost pathetic how much a genuine smile on Scaramouche’s face makes him want to run away.

Aether shifts his weight from one foot to another, he tries to stand still but his body is filled with too much stress he feels restless. He stands beneath a tree on the outskirts of Sumeru city, just shy of leaving its boundaries.

He takes in a slow breath and sighs, hoping to expel whatever it is that’s been welling up in his chest, crushing him for a matter of days now. The sun has sunk and Teyvat’s fake stars begin to swarm the sky, dancing and twinkling around each other.

Aether grimaces. At least here, in Teyvat, these fake stars seem to be happy.

“Aether,” his right knee gives out under the shock and speed of how fast he’d turned around. The god stumbles before the puppet, falling clumsily at Kunikuzushi’s feet with a yelp.

“ Christ- ” Aether hissed, heavy accent slipping through as he curses. Kunikuzushi doesn’t understand what he says, assuming the language to be of another land, as he chuckles out an apology and helps the man to his feet.

Aether glares at him.

Kunikuzushi thinks he looks like a cat after its tail had been pulled. He stifles another laugh.

“Sorry,” he says to the other despite looking completely unapologetic. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I thought you’d heard me approaching.”

Aether huffs, patting off the dirt on his pants and turning away from the hand that offers assistance, “Yeah? Well, I didn’t.” 

Kunikuzushi’s face sinks, thin brows furrowing, and pursed lips begin to frown. Aether looks away because he refuses to feel guilty. Nope. No way. He is a god and puppy dog eyes do not work on him. At all.

“Have I…” Kunikuzushi trails off. He suddenly sounds unsure of himself and Aether has half the mind to keep his back turned to him, refusing to see the expression on his face, “-or maybe other me- or maybe just me- have I done something to upset you? By chance?”

Aether’s body twitches (because he refuses to call it a flinch), not expecting him to be so forward. He should’ve expected it. Scaramouche has always been forward. He knew what he wanted, took what he wanted, and if he couldn’t- demanded what he wanted.

Kunikuzushi waits in silence. Patient for a response.

Endless guilt floods Aether’s body because he knows he’s being unfair and he knows this isn’t the Balladeer or Scaramouche and it’s certainly not the same person who’d killed Teppei or attempted to kill him but…even still, he cannot shake the feeling of contempt.

“Old you,” Aether responds, short and quick. His shoulders are tense and Kunikuzushi knows this must be a very uncomfortable topic, “So, just don’t worry about it. It’s not you that I’m pissed at.”

“It’s hard to not worry when you look at me like you want to tear my throat out.”

Aether lets out a heavy sigh before turning around. Kunikuzushi deserved that much at least.

“I’m sorry,” he starts, “-I know it’s cruel to treat you so coldly when you haven’t done anything but I just can’t help it . You-”

Aether chances a glance at him and he hopes he doesn’t look as pitiful and conflicted as he feels, “-you just look so much like him .”

Kunikuzushi feels like he should put up more of a protest but this man, this beautiful, beautiful man before him is giving him this helpless look that he’s stunned to silence. Aether looks so lost. Golden eyes stare at him, hoping he’ll understand. Kunikuzushi doesn’t think he does but by the Archons he’s going to try if it means he might see Aether shine like the stars in the sky.

“I like stargazing.”

Aether blinks.

“Huh?”

“I like stargazing,” Kunikuzushi repeats, his tone higher and more welcoming, “-has he ever told you that?”

Aether doesn’t know where this is going but he shakes his head, “He doesn’t tell me anything. I don’t know much if anything at all.”

“Then,” Kunikuzushi is slow when grabbing Aether’s wrist, giving the other plenty of time to back away and decline his touch once more, but instead he stays in hesitant silence, “-get to know me . Not him. Then you’ll see we’re different. Or at least, you’ll see me for me.”

He leads the god further from the city in silence. Aether cannot think of much. Kunikuzushi’s words had been so unexpected he had no clue how to respond. So he lets himself be led away. He walks with the ghost of what Scaramouche used to be as the nightly buzz of the city slowly fades from his ears until all that’s left is the sound of their walking.

They stop at the edge of a waterfall and Kunikuzushi sits down on the grass, patting the open spot beside him.

Aether hesitantly sits.

“Maybe not just stargazing,” Kunikuzushi says, breaking the silence, “I just like watching the sky in general.”

“Why?”

He shrugs, “It just comforts me, I suppose. It’s something constant. I know that no matter what happens the sun will always greet me in the morning and the stars will be there for me at night.”

“The sky won’t abandon me. It’s been there for me since day one, so the least I can do is appreciate its beauty every now and then.”

Aether stays silent, unsure of what to say. He feels so much and he’s only 50% sure that this is real and actually happening and not another guilty pleasure dream of the foolish idea he and his enemy could ever tolerate each other. But it’s nice.

Aether lays back and stares up at the sky. Moments later, Kunikuzushi also lies down. The silence would’ve been awkward before, but now there’s this silent understanding that makes things comfortable.

“You know, Teyvat’s skies are actually fake.”

Kunikuzushi chokes on his own surprise, coughing on the air he’d inhaled too quickly and Aether watches him, smugly.

“Pardon?” The puppet wheezes out.

Aether merely puts a finger to his mouth and shushes him.

“Don’t tell Nahida I told you. It’s a secret only the gods know of.” Aether whispers. Before Kunikuzushi can voice his complaints or doubts Aether holds up a finger to his face.

“However, I can show you what real skies look like.” 

And with it, Aether is shown how gloomy violet can blossom into stunning lavender, swarmed with excitement and anticipation. Beautiful, he thinks, somewhere in the depths of his mind, far enough away he won’t remember later, you are so beautiful.

Kunikuzushi lights up, glowing in a way that will surely haunt Aether’s dreams, but then withers underneath the bashfulness of his excitement.

“Yes,” the doll says, clearing his throat and batting his eyelashes, “-I’d appreciate it if you did.”

Aether smiles at him, probably the first time he’s ever, really smiled at him, before nodding. He holds out one of his hands and watches Kunikuzushi watch him. He taps into the sliver of divine power he had access to, felt his veins flood with golden ichor, feels his nerves crackle and burn, and summons a small universe above the palm of his hand.

The stars glimmer, and with it, so does Aether. And so does Kunikuzushi. The god’s eyes twinkle with power while the doll’s sparkle with amazement.

It kind of hurts. His muscles strain and his nerves are on fire, his body no longer used to the burden of divinity. It felt like holding the sun.

But he thinks that if he can put this kind of look on Scaramouche’s face, no matter the past him, the present him, or the future him,

He was willing to let himself burn.

Just for a little bit.

Deep in his own consciousness, Scaramouche watches the stars, and they watch back. He feels warm under their gaze and he lets out a content sigh.

For some reason, they look especially beautiful tonight.