Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It is not lost on anyone that Commissioner Kamisato holds many secrets, least of all himself. 

After all, the Commissioner of the Yashiro Commission has too many duties and too much power associated with it. Certainly, Kamisato Ayato himself doesn’t revel in it, but he’s more than politically aware enough to know that if he stepped down, let his firm control over one of the Tri-Commissions slip, he and Ayaka would quite literally be killed. 

He’s made many enemies over the years. 

In all honesty, Ayato is now so far removed from the general populace of Inazuma that he’s become little more than an urban legend. There’s no glory in how he manages the nation’s affairs, and he receives none of the praise and thankful gratitude that belong to his sister. 

But that’s neither here nor there. It matters little to Ayato, anyway. For all that he’s so powerful, in the end, he’s just a man with simple needs: the need to see his family safe and content.

That’s all.

Unfortunately for him, there is not a single person in Inazuma who would ever possibly believe him. So here he is - chained to the toils of Yashiro Commissioner, duties bearing down on him like shackles at his feet.

Who is Kamisato Ayato?

Many things. Yashiro Commissioner is the most obvious answer, to most. “Annoyance” would be another contender, or maybe “Yashiro rascal” from a certain most distinguished Guuji residing at Mount Yougou. 

He’s not enough of a high profile among Fatui to merit the moniker Persona Non Grata like that individual from Mondstadt he’s heard of, but he’s certainly one of their most concerning variables. 

But that isn’t quite the point. Yes, Ayato is the Commissioner. Yes, he is an incredibly influential, high-profile, powerful individual. But that power doesn’t come from only the Yashiro Commission. 

Lesser known to the public, and even to his sister, is his hand in the… underground dealings of Inazuma. 

And well known but still yet mysterious is the Shuumatsuban itself.

Here’s one of those lesser known facts of Kamisato Ayato: the Shuumatsuban report directly to him.

And here is a closely guarded secret: he grows attached. He certainly does grow attached.

Despite all that others call him - conniving snake, manipulative bastard, cold-hearted machine - he speaks with these people personally. The Shuumatsuban are a group formed of people who have never known anyone else - who have sworn eternal and unconditional loyalty to the Kamisato Clan. And Kamisato Ayato can only exchange so many reports, personally, with his most trusted intelligence group before he gets attached to some of them.

(For all that others say that he is cruel, Kamisato Ayato is painfully human.)

So what this means is that when he sends the spies off to missions, he tells them good luck and stay safe.

And it means too that every sacrifice weighs heavy on his heart.

“The Takatsukasa Clan?”

“Our information networks have picked up on some irregular shifts of guard on Kannazuka recently. Given what just happened with the shift of power within the Tenryou Commission, I cannot trust them to not cause any trouble.”

“Forgive me, sir, but this seems uncharacteristic. Meddling in the other two Commissions has never been much of your path to take.”

“You need not apologize. I suppose I’m growing uneasy - there is too much peace in Inazuma for a nation that has just torn itself apart in civil war. In either circumstance, me being right or wrong, it will not hurt to update our intelligence on the Takatsukasa Clan.”

“As you wish, my lord.”

Oh, but it did hurt.

The Shuumatsuban are somewhat of Ayato’s trump card. The last line of defense between the world and his family, baring his own life - a line of soldiers following his every command with no hesitation, loyalty guaranteed and competence assured.

So as Ayato receives word that the body of that spy was found, dead and cooling, near the shores of Kannazuka, mere days after he receives a letter from that very same spy telling him that no suspicious activity had been recorded thus far - he takes it personally.

The door to his study opens just as he grips the letter a touch too tightly. The paper wrinkles under the stress.

“My lord…”

“Ah, Thoma. What is it?”

Privately, Ayato thinks that his calm tone of voice really does not match his state of mind.

Thoma, clearly, knows it too. His expression is sympathetic as his eyes flit to the letter in his hand. “The Tenryou Commission has already opened a case. They’re investigating it as we speak.”

“I’m well aware.”

“Ah.”

Silence. Thoma looks like he’s stuck between comforting Ayato and running off to the kitchen.

(It always hits Ayato the hardest when people get hurt for his machinations.)

“Tell me, Thoma.” Ayato says, suddenly, half for want of filling the silence and half out of impulse - “how busy am I these coming weeks?”

“Not very.” His retainer answers promptly, perhaps relieved at being asked for something he knows to provide. “Your next meetings with the other Commissioners are in a month. Sangonomiya-san has not yet sent a request for a foreign relations meeting. The next festival, while in eleven days, will mostly be managed by Ayaka.”

“Perfect.”

“Perfect how, my lord?”

Maybe it’s his emotional state. Maybe it’s the fact that Kamisato Ayato, who grasped iron clad control over one of the most influential powers of Inazuma at a young age, rarely takes things personally.

Maybe it’s out of a twisted sense of justice.

“Clear my schedule for the next week and a half. Send a message for the Tenryou Commission immediately.

“My lord?” Thoma is surprised. He can tell.

After all, this is rather uncharacteristic of him.

“Whoever did this decided that they could command the lives of the Shuumatsuban.” A smile creeps on Ayato’s face, practiced and neutral, but all present know that it’s far from genuine. “For that, I suppose they’ll have to answer personally to me.”

Thoma scrambles for an answer as Ayato walks out of his study, to his room.

He has some work to do.

“Shikanoin!”

Ah, a shame. And Heizou was just about to get to the good parts, too. 

“Shikanoin Heizou!”

Maybe she can wait a little longer. A little longer, right? Well, his superior certainly has been at the end of her rope recently, with all the political intrigue that’s been going on - but Kujou-san has always been more understanding than most. And besides, he’s been reading just for this moment, just this once-

“Shikanoin Heizou, get out of that fucking room or so help me I will-”

“Alright, I’m coming!”

Sighing, Heizou puts down the light novel. Honestly, of all the times for the general to exercise her authority like this. “I’m coming, Kujou. No need to get all your feathers ruffled.”

Kujou Sara takes that as her cue to slam open the door and glare at him. “Not funny, Shikanoin. Get up. You’re hereby immediately relieved of all your current cases.”

Now that gets Heizou’s attention. “Letting me slack, General?”

“Far from it.” Kujou pinches her nose, like she wishes she didn’t have to be here but has no choice. “Trust me, Shikanoin, I would not come to you if there was no other way we’d be able to get that man away from our door.”

“A case?” For all of Heizou’s talents, he can’t think of anything else that Kujou would call him for. 

The General nods. “A high-profile one, at that. Murder of the Shuumatsuban.”

If possible, Heizou’s eyebrows climb even higher. “Of the Shuumatsuban?”

“I’m just as surprised as you are.” Kujou sighs. “Look, help me out here. The Tenryou Commission is stretched out thin as it is, with the remaining delusion factories and traitors we need to weed out. And there’s the issue of vested interest.”

“Let me guess - the prime suspect is the Takatsukasa Clan.”

“Correct.” 

“Then the Shuumatsuban should be hiring someone independent. Sango, maybe. She can-”

“Shikanoin, do you seriously believe that anyone in Inazuma, city or in Hanamizaka, would believe that you would ever let vested interest get in the way of revealing the truth?”

“Well…”

“When lying would stand to cause more harm,” Kujou clarifies, and Heizou has to admit that she has a point. 

He checks all the boxes. The Kujou Clan, while having secured their position for the next little while, is still highly unstable in terms of public opinion and political power. The recent scandal between the Takatsukasa Clan and the Kujou Clan is still fresh in everyone’s minds. Heizou, on the other hand, has established himself firmly in Inazuma as one of the most trustworthy people in the investigation department. It would be a little mean of him to retract his clearly much-needed services here.

Heizou stands up, taking his time to stretch. “Who’s the client?”

Kujou turns away from him, even as her expression betrays her relief. “Follow me.”

Ayato is making the guards at the front nervous. He can tell. They’re shuffling awkwardly, eyeing him, like he’s about to pull out Haran Geppaku Futsu and slice them all into bits.

Well, they don’t have anything to worry about on that front. Footsteps are approaching - sure and steady, likely Kujou Sara herself - and with her, definitely someone competent. 

“Are you sure you can’t leave this to our investigation department, Commissioner?” One of the guards asks weakly. “I assure you, he’s never had an unsolved case-”

“I asked for someone to work alongside with, so that I could see this to the end personally.” Ayato’s voice, calm but sharp, slices through like an arrow through the trees. “No matter. They’re approaching.”

He’s right, of course. The first to step into view is Kujou Sara herself, but the mystery second set of footsteps belongs to-

Heizou takes cases because he wants to prevent evil before it can happen.

Truth be told, he himself can’t say when this ambition started, at all. Maybe with that fateful festival, the day his friend died. Or maybe the day he discovered the truth behind Shiroyama’s murder.

Whatever the case, his one goal as Cyclone is clear.

So when confronted with the fact that this man who has Kujou set on the edge is the very one behind so many of Inazuma’s morally questionable machinations, who can manipulate and set up evil and get off scott-free because of his position and evidence being cleverly hidden, all Heizou can say is-

“Is this some kind of joke?”

Here’s another secret of Ayato’s: rarely does he ever truly hate anyone.

Of course, his relationship with Yae Miko is rather complex. And he’s never been very fond of the entirety of the Kanjou Commission. But Ayato, for all that he has no qualms about manipulating people to his own ends, is not unnecessarily cruel to most. 

He rarely hates.

Hate is a strong word. But Ayato’s kind of hate is less I-wish-you-were-never-alive and more how-could-you-ever-do-that?

How can he not hate the Fatui, when all that they’ve done is one attempt or another at harming his family?

How can he not hate the Shogun, when she nearly stripped Thoma to a bare shell of himself, an empty person?

And how can he not hate Shikanoin, when he serves only himself and no one else, when Ayato has sacrificed more than he could possibly ever imagine to protect his family?

“Well, well. If it isn’t the star of the Tenryou Commission. I would say this is a surprise, but I really should’ve expected this.”

Ayato’s words are platitudes, polite and civil, but from the way Shikanoin glares at him, he knows he means none of it. “ Is this some kind of joke? You, the Yashiro Commissioner, wanting us to investigate a murder that you-”

“Choose your next words carefully, Shikanoin.” Ayato warns.

Shikanoin himself scoffs. “I bow to few, Commissioner. It might surprise you that for once, you’re not on that list.”

“A free spirit as ever, I see. Still sticking to your own personal set of principles?”

The detective’s eyes flash. “Don’t you dare-”

Boom.

Immediately, the two of them stop. Kujou Sara looks positively murderous.

“Now, I don’t know what in the abyss is between the two of you,” Kujou starts, slowly and deadly calm, “but if you two want this case solved, then you two are going to be civil.”

“Civil? I’d rather leave the case.” 

“Bold words, Shikanoin. We both know that you were never able to leave an unsolved murder alone. This is a direct order from your superior.”

“I can quit.”

“Empty threat.”

Kujou turns to Ayato before Shikanoin can scramble for a response.  “And you. Treat the Doushin with the respect he deserves, as the only detective with a spotless record in the investigation department.”

“So you think that the Tenryou Commission is the only place I can find a detective?”

“That’s exactly what I think. I don’t know who else you might hire, but you and I both know that Shikanoin is the best you’re going to get.”

“Are you threatening me?”

Ayato’s voice is dangerous. He can see Shikanoin seething, too.

Clearly, no one is happy with the arrangement.

Kujou opens her mouth, perhaps to object, but then decides against it. “Yes, actually. I’m about at the end of my rope with the two of you. You want this case solved? Collaborate.”

“Collaborate with him?” Shikanoin asks incredulously. “This is why you didn’t tell me it was Kamisato putting forth the commission, then. You knew I’d never agree.”

“I did.” Kujou admits easily. “By the Shogun, Shikanoin, please. We already went over why you’re literally the only one who can help this case.”

Silence. Shikanoin visibly ponders the situation, and his expression gets darker with every passing second, no doubt reaching the conclusion that Ayato is also unhappily approaching: Kujou Sara is right.

Ayato has too much personal investment in this case already, and Kujou has seen right through him. He won’t let this rest - it’s why he asked to work personally with someone else.

And Ayato will be the first to admit he doesn’t know what kind of personal stake Shikanoin has in this, but clearly, he’s in the same position.

Finally, Shikanoin breaks the silence. “Fine. I’ll take the case.”

“Then I will also be… amenable to this arrangement.” Ayato forces out.

The detective raises an eyebrow at his tone. Ayato refuses to return the insolence. Very few people can get under his skin like that - he has to commend Shikanoin for managing, but right now he wants nothing more to just get this case over with so they can put everything behind them.

Kujou sighs. “Good. Where are you starting, Shikanoin?”

The Doushin, to his credit, only side-eyes him for a moment longer before directing his focus onto the more pressing matter at hand.

“Let’s start with the body.”

Chapter Text

“Recent.”

“Yes. Transport happened immediately after the body was found. It was only yesterday.”

“Do we know if the body was dead for a while before it was reported yesterday afternoon?”

“I believe that it was instant. That’s what the soldiers at Kannazuka said, either way.”

“And the body hasn’t been tampered with afterwards?”

Kujou Sara stops. “I believe not.”

“Assumptions, General. A detective’s enemy.” Heizou brushes his fingers against the robes of the murdered spy, laid out flat for his inspection. “Ink dries faster than blood, after all. But…” 

One of the fingers he pulls away comes away stained black.

“The stains won’t come off - or even smudge, for that matter - without water.” Heizou muses. “I think it’s safe to say that the ink was spilled right before - or perhaps during - the crime.”

“They were writing, then?”

“Maybe. Maybe not.” Heizou turns to the Commissioner, then, lurking quietly in the corner and watching him work. “Well, Commissioner? Anything to report?”

“...the last letter we’d received was three days ago.” Kamisato mutters. “They said that they had nothing to report.”

“Nothing, huh.” Heizou peers over and sees a blood-stained collar, which he peels back to reveal a wound, crusted over with blood and age. “A clean job. One quick swipe to the neck - although they didn’t go down with a fight. Cuts all over the body - most likely overpowered while trying to escape.”

“The ink?”

“Maybe a bottle carried with the spy while running - unlikely, though, because none of these wounds were caused by the splintering of a glass bottle. Perhaps more likely, they were interrupted while trying to report back.”

“Can you tell the specifics of the wound?”

“Caused by a blade. About two sun in length. Very quick - just deep enough to cut the artery. Definitely an assassination, then - targetted, and by someone very experienced in these matters. They were investigating the Takatsukasa clan?”

“Yes.”

“Found near any Takatsukasa bases?”

“Further from the ones that we’ve located so far.”

“Reasonably far, then.”

“But close to the Kujou Encampment.”

“Odd. Who found them?”

“Two habitants on the island. They set off the panic flare when they saw the body.”

“Wrong place, wrong time, then. Or maybe not.”

“Panic flare?” The Commissioner asks.

Heizou refuses to roll his eyes. He refuses. “The residents of Kannazuka all carry emergency flares that call the closest Tenryou patrol directly to their location. It’s a dangerous place, after all. The same thing happens at Yashiori.” He taps the map that Kujou has pulled up, on the red X that she marked for him. “We’ll have to visit this area. Maybe there’ll be more clues.”

Kujou frowns. “On your own, Shikanoin?”

Here’s a secret: Kujou, for all that she appears cold and strict, cares. She cares greatly for her soldiers, for any person placed under his charge. Heizou is right - Kannazuka is dangerous, overrun with ronin and perhaps, more recently called to their attention, the Fatui. It’s a landmine, sometimes literally. 

The thought of Kujou Sara, caring for his well-being, is almost enough to make Heizou laugh in fondness and exasperation. He opts instead for a smile. “Well, I won’t be alone. Not if the esteemed Commissioner insists on accompanying me.”

“I will.” Kamisato says without hesitation.

That gives Heizou pause for a moment. He really is invested in this case, Heizou thinks, and for a second he wonders. 

“Focus.” Kujou snaps.

Heizou pulls himself back to present. “Right. Then we’ll make our way there as soon as possible. It rains a lot there, you know. And rain washes away most of the clues that we could benefit from.”

“Then I’ll-”

“Stay here.” Heizou raises his hand before Kujou can go further. “The Tenryou Commission needs you here, anyway. We can manage fine on our own. Besides… something tells me that someone else is calling for your attention now, anyway.”

Kujou raises an eyebrow at him. Before she can reply, a knock on the door sounds.

“General?” A voice calls. “Two soldiers resigned this morning. We’re short of patrol-”

“Alright, I’m coming!” Kujou shouts, and the voice on the other side stops abruptly. She sighs. “It looks like you are, infuriatingly, right. Fine. Remember: be civil.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of being anything else.” Heizou says, a touch too sarcastically. 

The Commissioner raises an eyebrow at him. Heizou, in his infinite patience and wisdom, elects to ignore him. 

Kujou Sara looks between them for a few moments later, like she’s contemplating all of her life’s choices that have led her to this moment, before turning away. “Safe travels, Shikanoin. Kamisato.”

“To you too, Kujou.” The Commissioner returns, ever polite. 

(Heizou hates it. Hates the thin veneer, the fake politeness that bleeds cruelty and bespeaks manipulation. Doesn’t he ever get tired of it?)

Heizou waves her away. “Go, do whatever General things you need to do. We’ll handle this.”

“I never doubted that.” Kujou huffs. “Good luck.”

“I won’t need it, but thank you!” Heizou calls out cheekily, maybe just to have the last word, as the door swings shut behind the Kujou warrior. 

He turns back, and then it’s just the two of them - Commissioner and detective. 

Kamisato looks at him. “Well?”

“ Well,” Heizou drawls, “just like I said - we depart for Kannazuka. Immediately. Unless there are objections?”

The air’s tension is thick enough that Heizou could probably shatter it with a Heartstopper strike, if he really wanted to. Brewing hatred, spite and anger, for some reason mutual, though Heizou himself can’t fathom why the Commissioner has any reason for hating him - it makes for quite the heavy atmosphere. 

Not that Heizou has ever been fond of the heavy atmosphere in question. But he can’t help it, really. 

The Commissioner draws himself up from where he was leaning against the wall - no longer a silent observer, no longer the puppeteer behind the scenes. 

Heizou wonders, briefly, if this is the first time the manipulator has stepped out onto the stage like this. 

“No objections to your expertise, detective.” Kamisato says, voice smooth like a serpent’s tongue. “No objections at all.”

Watching the detective work is an odd experience.

Ayato himself rarely keeps a profile of any particular Inazumans, but Shikanoin had long ago found himself on the list of the extraordinary individuals. He intrigued him, at first. It was fascinating to observe a free soul solve cold cases one by one, leaving no stone unturned and no question unanswered.

But then Ayato had observed the easy way Shikanoin slacked and did whatever he pleased - an impromptu trip to Watatsumi Island, of all places, among them - and slowly that curious feeling had grown into something far uglier. 

Maybe it was resentment. Or at least partially due his freedom. Ayato was never afforded freedom, after all.

“We’re on a tight schedule, Shikanoin.” Ayato finds it fit to remind the Doushin as they walk through Inazuma City, drawing whispers as they go. “I’m a busy man.” The walk is a little too leisurely, in his opinion.

“Not for the next week, Commissioner.” Shikanoin almost-spits to him, low enough that only he can hear it, and Ayato is too practiced in his neutrality to bristle, but it’s close. “You knew that this was going to take time. I’m sure you’ve cleared out your schedule.”

“That does not mean I have the time to waste on trivialities and useless matters.” Ayato snaps back, just as quietly and out of the corner of his mouth. “You said it yourself - the longer we stay here, the more likely Kannazuka’s landscape changes beyond something we can use.”

“Using my own words against me, are we?” Shikanoin fires back, before sighing. “And this isn’t useless. It’s a normal rodeo for me, to walk around the city like this before leaving to chase something.” He stops at the groceries. “Aoi-san.”

“On official business, Shikanoin-san?” The merchant asks, though by the tone of her voice and the way she glances at Ayato it’s clear that she knows the answer. “I take that it’s the usual, then.”

“You know me well,” Shikanoin agrees. “One pack.”

“Not another for the Commissioner?”

“No need.”

Ayato raises an eyebrow.

Shikanoin rolls his eyes at him just as Aoi turns back to prepare whatever it is the detective just ordered. “I’m sure Kamisato will find it fit to have his own travel pack done at his estate.”

Ayato keeps his smile plastered firmly onto his face. “You know me well.”

Shikanoin mutters something under his breath.

Aoi chooses that moment to turn back with a customer smile etched onto her face. “What was that, Shikanoin-san?”

“Nothing.” The Doushin says for her benefit, producing a pouch of mora and paying her a generous amount. “I’ll be going, now. Remember the agreement.”

“Of course, of course.” Aoi says delightfully as she gathers up the mora. Ayato can’t blame her - it’s difficult to be a merchant in Inazuma, even for the well-known owner of Tsukumomono Groceries.

Shikanoin doesn’t say anything else as he slings the pack over his shoulder and continues on his way down. Ayato follows him.

And then, just… nothing.

Silence, except for the bustling of Inazuma streets around them. Idly, Ayato drinks in the sounds around him while they walk, mind simultaneously keeping an eye on the detective and running through scenarios in his head. It’s quiet between them. 

Privately, Ayato thinks that if most of their company time was spent like this, it would be tolerable.

They make it far enough - to the tree that Thoma is always fond of visiting with newly knitted sweaters for the animals frequenting - when Shikanoin abruptly stops and turns on his heel. “Well? Are you outfitted for travel?”

“…no.” Ayato admits. He’d come with official clothing, traveling lightly, expecting to return to the estate at least once long before nightfall. 

Shikanoin eyes him critically. “Well, that won’t do. As much as I would like to make use of the daylight, however…” he squints at the horizon, where the sun is close to dipping below the line and usher in the moon. “No matter. Take tonight to rest. Meet me at Konda village by sunrise, fully prepared and in less conspicuous clothes.” 

“This seems like an awfully terrible use of our time, Shikanoin.”

“I know. I don’t like it either.” The Doushin, emboldened by the lack of witnesses around them, scowls at him. “But you’ll be worse than a burden if you walk into this not ready to go fast and ready for scuffles. Announcing ‘the Yashiro Commissioner is here!’ to all surrounding ronin and unsavories will only hinder our progress.”

“Then we could travel by nightfall.” Ayato points out, only slightly annoyed by the fact that Shikanoin raises some very good points and has thus far completely seen through all of his intentions.

“I am not doubting your ability to travel at night, Kamisato,” Shikanoin says slowly, “but I am doubting my sanity’s ability to survive if I had to deal with a high profile case alongside you with anything less than a full night’s rest.”

Ayato, also feeling more daring to express his displeasure out of the city, allows some of the venom he’s honed over the years to seep into his voice. “Such character, detective. It sounds awfully like an excuse to put this off.”

Shikanoin visibly wrestles with his expression before settling on cold neutrality. “Believe what you will, then. But you and I both know that the next few days will be long.”

“That much we can agree on.” Ayato huffs. “Very well. We set out at dawn.”

Shikanoin barely nods at him over his shoulder before stalking off, leaving Ayato behind. 

Hm. He’ll have to send a couple of Shuumatsuban forward tonight, then.

Clearing the path ahead will make things easier, even if Ayato is still reluctant to let them leave Narukami for now.

As for Shikanoin…

Ayato stops that train of thought before it can lead him back to his resentment. Better not to think about that for now.

First, get back to Ayaka, Thoma, and the estate. Explain the situation to them - then worry about everything else.

(Family first, after all.)

Ayato tries his best not to rub his temples at the thought of the everything else in question. Shikanoin was right - it will be a very long next couple of days.

Chapter Text

“Itadakimasu.”

“Itadakimasu,” Ayato murmurs, unclasping his hands along with his sister and retainer as they begin their meal. 

It’s far quieter than what Ayato is used to. Thoma spares a couple of glances, but says nothing - Ayaka stops eating, opens her mouth, then closes it again, then uses her chopsticks to spoon another bite of rice in her mouth. 

Not that they often speak during meals. Especially in the presence of the stuffy clan elders and in diplomatic meetings with the other commissions’ officials, silent meals are customary and expected of some of the Shogun’s highest servants. But silence is uncomfortable when you’re with family - when conversations are meant to be light, full of laughter, and full of love. 

Ayato swallows his next bite before speaking. “Thoma, I’ll need a travel pack. I will be gone for the next week.”

“Yes, my lord.” Thoma says, almost out of instinct, before stopping in his motions and blinking. “A week?”

“Shikanoin expects the investigation to take a while.” Ayato lets out a breath. “As much as I don’t like to be away from the estate for so long, it’s still better to come back with unused supplies than to leave a trail cold for the lack of it.”

“Of course.” Thoma hurries to reply. “I was just…” he pauses. “Surprised. It’s unlike you, to invest this much into one thing.”

“I have to agree with Thoma, brother.” Ayaka sets down her chopsticks, abandoning pretenses. “It’s unlike you. And… I can’t help but worry, brother, when you do things that are uncharacteristic.”

Ayato winces at a memory, long nearly-forgotten, of the time he was nearly assassinated for his sloppiness. It was sheer luck that he’d survived - luck, and Ayaka’s quick thinking. 

“I know.” Ayato says. “I can’t say that I like it either. But I think you all know that I’ve never left well enough alone, when it comes to the matters of those close to me.”

It’s Ayaka’s turn to turn away, at the memory of Ayato weeding out the traitors in their commission, and the time he had them all killed. 

(She was only nine, then. She learned years later what the red stain on the pathway was, and why Thoma had tried so hard to get rid of it.)

The silence permeates the household, like the house itself is holding its breath. Ayato doesn’t remember this kind of awkwardness. He doesn’t know how to work around it.

Thoma clears his throat. “So… a light travel pack, with bare provisions. Should I…”

“A first aid kit,” Ayato begins listing. “Matches. Between Shikanoin and I, neither of us have a pyro vision. We’ll find shelter out in the rain, but if you can find a light tatami mat, I would be grateful. And a change of clothes.”

Ayato pauses. “And Haran.”

“A flare?”

“Unnecessary, if Shikanoin was right about being handed one the moment one steps on Kannazuka.” He stops, ponders. “But maybe a couple, for caution’s sake.”

“Always the caution.” Ayaka notes, fondness evident in her voice. “You understand why we’re worried, then, with you charging straight into this case personally.”

“I know.” Ayato repeats. “I know. I’m sorry.”

His sister tilts her head. “What for?”

“For being selfish. For being not here, and out there.” Ayato purses his lips. “I don’t mean to be away all the time.”

“You’re busy.” Ayaka says, simple.

It’s not an accusation. It’s not quite reassurance, though, either.

The younger of the Kamisatos pokes at her food, rolling around words in her mouth before speaking. “It’s not blame, brother. But… come home. Come home safe.”

Thoma nods, eyes locking onto him with the same kind of intensity.

Family.

Odd, how easily Ayato caves to those he loves, when he’s stood his ground against years of rival clans and politics, back when it seemed like Inazuma itself wanted the Kamisato clan ousted like the Kaedehara clan not so long ago.

(Ayato is not often the wave. Most often, he is the foam riding the currents - or maybe, occasionally, a flower ready to move and stay intact when the still water in which it resides is disrupted - but rarely is he the all-encompassing force, the pushing forward of the might of fluidity.

Nonetheless, though, the water always returns to shore.)

“I will.” 

The promise rolls easily off his tongue.

He means it, every time.

The sun just manages to peek over the horizon when Commissioner Kamisato steps out of the shadows at Konda. 

Heizou shoulders his pack from where he’d temporarily dropped it down while waiting. “Just on time, Kamisato. Come on.”

Just as he’d hoped, Kamisato is wearing nondescript wear. A sheath hangs at his waist - if the latent hydro surrounding it is any indication, it’s Haran Geppaku Futsu, ready to do its master’s bidding.

A similar pack is slung over the official’s shoulder. It’s odd, seeing him like this. Non-notable. Common. Devoid of any special treatment. 

Kamisato inclines his head. “I don’t slack on most matters, Shikanoin. What is our route?”

Heizou ignores the jab. Stay civil. “There’s a land-bridge between Narukami and Kannazuka. We’ll just have to follow it. It’s filled with ronin, though - you’ll have to get ready for battle. We will stop at the Kujou encampment for a night, then set out again to hopefully find the area that Kujou mentioned by midday.”

“Is the rest necessary?” Kamisato asks, pointedly.

Heizou’s fist clenches as a way to express his irritation in a way that’s decidedly not verbally. “It’s not for nothing. I have a couple of things that I need to check with the encampment, anyway. It’s unlike Kujou-san to not tell me the name of the witnesses unprompted.”

“You suspect something.”

“Of course I do.” Heizou narrows his eyes in thought, beginning to walk away in their direction of travel and hearing Kamisato do the same behind him. “All witnesses have the right to stay anonymous to the public, but not within the Tenryou. I need to verify with the witnesses, later, what exactly they saw upon arriving at the scene of the crime.”

“You have to take into account their circumstance, Shikanoin.” Kamisato points out, infuriatingly. “Finding a body immediately after murder is extremely rare in all cases. Unless you truly do mean to believe in coincidence?”

“Well, aren’t you familiar with the circumstances of finding one dead.” Heizou can’t help but bite out.

He takes some kind of sick pleasure in watching the way Kamisato’s expression twists.

Customary guilt follows, but Heizou doesn’t want to unpack the idea that he might not enjoy the contempt running through his veins, so he disregards it. “Circumstances are extraordinary in all cases that I take. Of course everything has a reason - but to assume that these reasons must be related to the case in some way is foolish.” 

“The witnesses could’ve gone that way because they knew it would be there.”

“Or the witnesses could’ve gone that way because they wanted to harvest Crystal Marrow,” Heizou shoots back. “So quick to blame the ordinary.”

“Overlooking the ordinary is foolishness, detective.”

“And so is overlooking the obvious, just out of belief that it can’t be so obvious.”

“So you think that every lead you follow is the answer?”

“I follow every lead because there’s merit in at least crossing off a dead end. You’re telling me that your own calculations aren’t this precise?”

Kamisato’s eyes flash the same way a predator’s does. “Efficiency, detective. Efficiency.”

The disgust rises in Heizou again, this time with no more guilt. “And collateral damage?”

Kamisato is wise enough not to voice his thoughts on the matter.

Heizou seethes, stalking ahead to punch in the teeth of the treasure hoarder in front of them.

“Archons above, Kamisato, it’s not as if this chest can’t have clues!”

“If there were, then it would be entirely too suspicious. Or is your naïveté allowing you to make greater assumptions, now? Take further leaps of hope?”

“All possibilities are worth investigating!”

“Sunk-cost fallacy. It’s paper in here, Shikanoin. Journals, and diaries.”

“...and a rotten apple. Fine, we’re going.”

“We can go directly through here if we have electrograna… there. I see a bough.”

“Quite the eye, Kamisato. I didn’t expect you to be so adept at figuring the ins and outs of exploration in these treacherous areas.”

“I’ve had my fair share of investigations.”

“Always the efficient one. Always.” 

“Why is it, Shikanoin, that whenever you’re speaking, I get the distinct feeling of your displeasure?”

“You tell me. Now be quiet. There’s another band of ronin up ahead, and I’d rather not get into another fight if we want to make it to the Kujou Encampment by afternoon.”

“Odd. It’s awfully quiet, and I don’t like it.”

“Too quiet for your tastes, detective? Do you need a fight to dispel that energy within you?”

“Don’t go there. I’ve traveled this stretch plenty of times. No matter how many unsavories we arrest, more always come back to populate this area, like an infestation. It’s never been this quiet.”

“Well, I presume they’ve never been able to come back overnight.”

“…”

“…”

“…what did you do.”

“It was a simple matter, to clear the area ahead of us for travel. You cannot deny that it has been convenient.”

“What did you do to them?”

“Do you want to know, Shikanoin?”

“…you didn’t have to kill them.”

“What would you rather me do? Leave them unconscious on the beach to bother others, like you’ve been doing?”

“They- there was no evidence of wrongdoing. Not yet. I have suspicions about every band I take out, Kamisato, but it’s not enough to act upon - why are you so eager to enact justice upon others?”

“Being decisive is key to survival, Shikanoin.”

“By the Shogun.”

“Fractu- shit!”

“Shikanoin?”

“No, not- damn you, Kamisato, just - focus on the ronin behind you!”

“He’s taken care of. What happened?”

“ Fuck- Just a splinter from hitting the tree.”

“A splinter? Your hand is bleeding.”

“Nothing some bandages would fix. Why would you care?”

“...”

“...forget it. Hand me that first-aid kit in the bag. We’re almost there.”

“Doushin Shikanoin. And… Commissioner Kamisato?”

“At ease.” Shikanoin tells Kujou Masahito, and to Ayato’s mild astonishment, the senior officer complies, rising from his hurried salute. “You know what we’re here for.”

“Of course, of course… we know that you wanted to talk to the witnesses. But… we’ve run into a problem, Shikanoin-san.”

The detective stills. “Explain.”

“Sanada and Andou both left for a business trip in Liyue this morning.” Kujou tells them, and Ayato feels a chill run down his spine. “We tried our best to keep them from leaving, but we checked with Sanada’s family on Kannazuka, and they confirmed it. With their permission, we did a thorough search, but we found nothing of note. After further inquiry, we left them alone.”

“A wise decision,” Shikanoin murmurs, and Ayato can see the cogs turning in his head as he runs by the scenarios. “A surprise search meant that they shouldn’t have had the time to conceal anything. Do you have a profile of both of them? Kujou-san - that is, your sister - did not mention receiving anything to do with the witnesses, and we both know how thorough she is in handing over evidence.”

The general shakes his head, looking down in what looks like… shame. Odd, interesting, and decidedly extremely concerning. “An oversight on our part… I tasked the messenger personally with all the information, but it appears that he neglected to mention their names. I will write a letter for delivery to my sister immediately.”

“That would be helpful… a little late, but no use thinking about the lost time.” Shikanoin hums. 

“I was about to raise that point, actually.” Kujou admits. “It’ll take a day to reach the Tenryou Commission, even at highest priority - and with the mess that the Tenryou Commission is currently in, you can expect another two days before we can find the documents in question. And then, it will be another day before we can get the return message - and even then, Shikanoin-san, it’s truly a gamble as to whether or not we’ll be able to find you amidst your investigation while you chase down your leads.”

“Then don’t bother with the messenger back, especially with sensitive documents like a citizen’s profile.” Ayato cuts in. “Tell your sister that if Andou’s family is in Inazuma City, we’ll do interrogation when we return.”

Kujou doesn’t immediately reply. His glance flickers over to Shikanoin, as if… as if waiting for his approval.

A high officer, a general in the army, asking for the advice of a simple Doushin.

Interesting.

Shikanoin nods.

(Well, would you look at that? Looks like they can collaborate after all.)

Kujou inclines his head. “As you wish, Commissioner.”

“Then it’s settled.” The detective decides, clapping his hands. “The sun is about to set, officer. Would you care to point us to the nearest lodgement?”

Kujou Masahito remains impassive, though somehow, it seems like the uptight and serious man is holding back… a fond smile. A laugh. Intriguing. “There’s a tent ready for the two of you on the far west side. You’ll have to forgive the lack of hospitality, Commissioner… we were not expecting you, and resources are stretched out thin as it is.”

“He can manage.” Shikanoin decides for Ayato. 

Ayato tries his best not to give Shikanoin a pointed look. “I can manage,” he agrees. “Thank you.”

Kujou nods stiffly.

Shikanoin, decidedly thinking that no more of this conversation is worth his time, skips off to the tent. Ayato watches him as he leaves - waving to the other Doushin, striking up friendly conversation, laughing. 

Warmth that Ayato is not privy to.

“Is there anything else, Commissioner?”

Ayato snaps back to attention. “Apologies, General. I did not mean to linger for so long.”

“It’s quite alright. I was simply asking.” The general responds, a polite smile etched and mirrored on his face, just like it undoubtedly is on Ayato’s own. 

“If you are offering, Kujou-san, then I should ask…” Ayato muses. “Out of pure curiosity, what has Shikanoin done to merit your respect as such?”

“Shikanoin? That’s a question I did not expect.” Kujou hums. “Truth be told, it’s more of how much he’s done for the people of Inazuma. Solving cold cases, garnering such a reputation to the point where unsavories don’t often dare to commit crimes anymore - it’s enough to earn any general’s respect.”

Kujou stops. 

Ayato looks at him. “That’s all?”

“That’s all there is to it, Commissioner. A simple reason, for someone who’s ultimately a simple man.” Kujou turns his gaze off into the direction Shikanoin left in, where the detective is now chatting and gesturing with a soldier currently in the middle of practice. “It’s not so strange, is it?”

Intriguing. 

Interesting.

Shikanoin truly is, ironically, becoming more of an enigma with every response like this Ayato receives.

“No,” Ayato murmurs. “I suppose not.”

Chapter Text

They arrive at the site of the murder by early afternoon, just as Shikanoin had predicted. 

Ayato’s first impression of this area is nothing more than how normal it seems. He doesn’t even think that they’ve arrived at their destination - but Shikanoin nods, looking up from his map, and crouches down near the grass to inspect it. 

And that’s when Ayato’s eye catches the object of interest - charred grass, shriveled up and dead. 

“Odd.” Shikanoin murmurs. “The victim did not have any burn marks on their body.”

“Can you use elemental sight?” Ayato offers, because to his great consternation, he can’t. Fortunately, Shikanoin seems to think the same thing that he does, because the next moment his eyes flash an unnatural shade of green and he blinks. 

“Pyro traces.” Shikanoin stands up and brushes the dirt off of his uniform. “So there was a pyro vision involved in this… or perhaps a pyro delusion. But if my memory serves me correctly, Kamisato, there seems to be no vision holders in the Takatsukasa clan.”

Ayato nods, somewhat begrudgingly. “From the reports and peace talks with Sangonomiya, we found that there are severe consequences to using a delusion - namely, the accelerated aging that took the lives of many of Sangonomiya’s old soldiers. However… we cannot discount the possibility that one of the servants had willingly sacrificed themselves for this mission.”

Somehow, that is what causes Shikanoin’s face to twist into an ugly expression. Before Ayato can dissect it, however, his features smooth back out into practiced apathy, cold neutrality. “There is also the matter of the blade. I’ve been pondering, Kamisato. What kind of blade can be two sun in length, yet lethal enough to slit the throat of one of your finest spies?”

Briefly, the Commissioner bristles, but he too tries to emulate the indifference that Shikanoin is clearly purposefully maintaining. It won’t do either of them good to get hot-headed, after all. “Two sun is extremely small. How are you sure that the blade was as tiny as you claim it to be?”

“The cut size, and the bloodstain pattern. The Shuumatsuban member presumably could not stay standing after the attack. Their hands tried their best to put pressure on the wound, from the pattern on their hands and the way the blood didn’t surround the wound in a natural attempt at clotting…” Shikanoin falls silent, seemingly deep in thought. “But it’s odd, yes. If you had a larger blade, a flat katana, a bigger and more forceful swing would’ve made more sense. Our culprit’s aim was to kill, after all. It just doesn’t make sense for someone wielding a weapon that we often use.”

“Then…?” Ayato prompts. 

“Then there’s a missing piece to the equation. A puzzle fragment we haven’t found yet.” Shikanoin’s eyes flash turquoise once more, and he looks off into the distance. “The traces go this way. We’ll have to follow them if we want to get anywhere.”

“Keep stock of your surroundings.”

“To make up for your slack, Detective?”

“ Ha. Hardly. But Elemental Sight does peculiar things to your vision - namely, greying out anything with the lack of an elemental signature.”

“So what would you have done, then? Were you relying on having someone accompany you on your investigation?”

“To answer your brilliant question, Commissioner, I would stop every few seconds to scan my surroundings normally. Or use elemental sight in increments. But since you’re here, I think we can forgo that inconvenience, right? Since you seem to be so bent on being as efficient as possible.”

“Ah, you wound me.”

“Don’t pull that with me. Come on.”

“Alright, we have to round the bend here - Kamisato, what the fuck.”

“What?”

“Is that - is that bubble tea?”

“Yes?”

“Of all the - of all the things to pack as your drink, you decide to pack bubble tea? Kamisato Ayato, are you fucking insane?”

“Many have said that, yes. Can I take that as a compliment?”

“...I’m done. I’m done. We’re leaving. Hurry up.”

“A compliment, then.”

“Don’t flatter yourself. By Celestia above, bubble tea. Holy shit.”

“....hey, Kamisato. Can you take care of the nobushi camp over there?”

“Why?”

“We won’t be able to sneak past them. And, well… my hand.”

“...Fine. Stand back.”

“Behind you!”

Heizou can’t help the shout that rips out of him when he sees the Kairagi leap out behind the Yashiro Commissioner. It seems that his warning was unneeded, however - when Kamisato barely blinks, barely flinches, and in the next second all Heizou sees is the hydro afterimage of the man with his sword at his hip and the Kairagi keeling over before slumping, unmoving.

Kamisato’s eyes are sharp, still on alert. 

It’s the look of a predator.

(It unnerves Heizou.)

“I believe we’re safe for now,” Kamisato finally says, and he dismisses Haran as it vanishes in a scatter of light, right alongside Heizou’s solar pearl. “Your warning was unneeded, Shikanoin.”

“I know.” Heizou grumbles, already picking through and collecting a couple of treasure hoarder signets in the carnage left behind.

“Why?”

Heizou freezes. “Why what?”

“Why warn me?”

Silence. 

A beat, two.

Heizou’s next sound is also forced out of his body, but it’s less of a shout and more of a bitter laugh. “Do you think I hate you enough, Kamisato, to want you dead?”

The Yashiro Commissioner doesn’t respond. That’s enough of an answer.

Heizou shakes his head. Despite his festering hatred and resentment for this man, the anger at all the crimes he couldn’t pin on him… there’s still an underlying hurt lining his next words. 

“I think Inazuma has seen enough bloodshed, Commissioner, in the wake of the civil war.” Heizou clenches his fist around an insignia, feeling the silver pattern press into his palm. “Don’t you think so too?”

He doesn’t get a response then, either. 

“We should take a break soon, Shikanoin.”

“What, my pace is too much for you to handle?”

“Far from it. However, your hands are clearly hurting. You should change those bandages.”

“I realized that. I just didn’t think that you’d notice.”

“What kind of monster do you take me for, Shikanoin?”

“I think you know the answer to that far better than I do.”

“A stone’s throw away is one of the delusion factories that we’ve staked out. I don’t know that Kujou-san would be happy with me rushing into a battle like this, but she can’t deny that our soldiers need help.”

That strikes Ayato, somehow. He hadn’t really expected Shikanoin to look into or care so much about matters that are by all accounts outside of his jurisdiction. 

Shikanoin is a Doushin, after all. In the end, it does not fall upon him to handle any sort of administrative affairs, especially outside of Inazuma city. 

“Something bothering you, Kamisato?” The soldier in question asks, eyebrows raised. 

Ayato huffs. He’s getting distracted. “I didn’t expect you to care,” he admits. 

(He realizes, later, that his voice doesn’t come out as venomous as he expects it to. 

Intriguing, he thinks later.)

Shikanoin himself goes silent for a moment before speaking again. “I… of course I would. These are also soldiers of the Tenryou Commission. If I can help save a few more lives, why wouldn’t I?”

A simple man, Kujou Masahito echoes in Ayato’s mind. 

Ayato shakes his head. “No matter. It’s not important right now.”

Shikanoin narrows his eyes at him, but ultimately lets it go. 

The Commissioner crosses his arms. “But why tell me about the raid? For all you know, I could turn traitor and tell the Fatui managing the place to evacuate right now.”

The detective gives him an indecipherable look. “Will you?”

It sounds almost like a challenge. 

No, Kamisato Ayato doesn’t say. I won’t.

How could he help those that he loathes so wholly, after all?

( And yet, and yet, a voice singsongs in his mind, tauntingly, and it sounds awfully like his sister. Here you are, brother. Collaborating with him.)

Shikanoin sighs. “I was going to help with the raid. But… it looks like they’ll be busy. Kujou Masahito is a good man. I’m sure that he’ll outfit his soldiers sufficiently.”

“Your faith is dangerous in the wrong circumstances, Shikanoin.”

“I know. I know very well.” Unspoken, hanging in the air between them: maybe even more than you, and Ayato himself almost can’t refute that, because he's never had much faith in the goodness of the world at large anyway. “I suppose that’s why I can’t help but want to make sure personally that everything goes right.”

That gets Ayato’s attention. 

(Somehow, it sounds awfully like Shikanoin is speaking Ayato’s mind - but that’s difficult to believe. They’re so different, after all.)

“So you don’t trust them.”

“Maybe I don’t.” Surprisingly, Shikanoin agrees. “Maybe I can’t help but want to make sure that everything goes well for myself, so that I won’t have to trust the stars to align properly.”

In the wake of that, the next stretch of their journey is spent in silence.

Heizou mulls over his words long after he speaks them out loud. 

The silence helps. He’s not sure why Kamisato is pensive, why he’s pondering, but he much prefers this to the other side of the man, anyway. The sharp, conniving snake, with words that are thrown back and forth between the two of them like daggers. 

Two sun in length.

Two sun in length. 

That’s awfully small, for a blade that killed a member of the Shuumatsuban.

(What a small thing it takes, to set in motion a grand scheme of events.)

Here is an open secret: Detective Shikanoin Heizou trusts no one. There has never been an instance of a clue not double checked, a witness statement not corroborated. Already, he’s running through scenarios, wondering if any of the information they’ve gathered is not sufficient, not enough. 

Kamisato may be the efficient one, but undoubtedly, Heizou is the thorough one. 

Absent-mindedly, he plays with the flare hidden in his pockets, still focused on the red glimmer of pyro traces in front of him. 

How ironic it is, that the first time Heizou trusts someone else to take care of the other half of his surroundings, it’s Kamisato Ayato - manipulator, puppeteer, political master. 

How ironic, indeed.

Kannazuka is certainly far more… beachy than Ayato had expected. 

Shikanoin’s search leads them through rivers, through streams, and more than once Ayato is reminded of why he’d been so adamant on nondescript clothing, casual wear. If Ayato had been in his ceremonial robes, no doubt that they would’ve been thoroughly ruined at this point. 

But perhaps more importantly, this vigilance is exactly what leads them to their next clue. 

Keep stock of your surroundings, Shikanoin had said, and Ayato had nearly scoffed at the notion. Who was he to assume that Kamisato Ayato, Commissioner of the Yashiro Commission, would not pay attention to his surroundings? 

However, to some degree, Ayato understands him now - because if he hadn’t scanned every part of the river for the best route on the rocks to cross, he would not have spotted the glint of metal when he did. 

Shikanoin turns around upon hearing him stop moving. “Kamisato? What are you-”

“Hold on.” Ayato cuts him off, and it’s a testament to how well Shikanoin can read the situation that he, wisely, keeps his mouth shut. 

Uncaring of the stains and water soaking his garments, Ayato traverses the river to its mouth, where the rocks try to block his path.

“Be careful,” Shikanoin tells him, his eyes glinting as he realizes what Ayato has found.

Ayato himself isn’t too sure that Shikanoin realizes he said that.

But he doesn’t unpack that, not yet. It’s too early for this - too early to think that maybe, his anger and spite that he’s clung onto are baseless, and he ignores it in favor of picking his way through the dangerous landscape, scraping his legs against sharp stone until he reaches the general area, bends down, and starts searching. 

( A simple reason, for someone who’s ultimately a simple man, the echo of Kujou Masahito’s voice whispers. It’s not so strange, is it?

Shikanoin Heizou, simple? Ayato thinks, wonders. It’s an alien concept.)

He is saved from further pondering when his fingers brush against brass metal - entirely too smooth and cold to be a stone sitting at the bottom of running water. 

Hm.

With effort, Ayato pulls out his prize - a shining emblem with the Tenryou Commission’s symbol stamped on it. 

Shikanoin goes still. 

Ayato’s fingers brush over the carvings. “Well, well. This has certainly just made everything far more interesting.”

Chapter Text

“It’s real, no doubt.” Kujou Masahito tells them, and Heizou feels his nails dig into his palm at that thought. “But we do routine checks with all of our soldiers and their equipment, their sigil being one of them. If you found this yesterday afternoon, I can say with confidence that this morning, all of my soldiers had theirs ready to present - and no soldier has left this encampment in the past fourteen days.”

“Do you have proof?” Kamisato asks beside him. Faintly, Heizou approves - he trusts no one, not when he is the Detective of the Tenryou Commission - and certainly not when evidence points towards the Tenryou Commission being involved in foul play. 

Kujou rummages through his belongings, soon producing a folded sheet of paper and handing it to them. “Here’s the record, signed and stamped personally by me.”

Kamisato takes it and opens it. Heizou peers over. Indeed, all soldiers’ equipment are accounted for and noted down to not be lost. 

The general clears his throat. “I don’t mean to assume that you haven’t thought of it, but, Shikanoin-san, have you maybe tried looking for fingerprints?”

“We did.” Heizou sighs. “Running water should not have eroded the fingerprints’ marks so easily, but even with Kamisato’s… careful… handling,” he admits, forcing the words out, “all the fingerprints had long been smudged beyond any recognition.”

“Another question for you, General.” Kamisato cuts in breezily, eyes still critically surveying the paper, looking for any inconsistencies. “Do any of your members possess a pyro vision?”

Silence.

“No,” Kujou finally says. “All the vision wielders… they had their visions taken away as a result of the vision hunt decree, and became listless. I sent them all home. They haven’t returned, even after they’ve gotten their visions back… and after such proof of how expendable they truly are, I cannot blame them.”

Just another casualty of Inazuma’s war, then. Their archon’s mistake.

Kamisato bows. “Then we will take our leave, General. Would it be an issue if we were to take this record, as evidence?”

Kujou frowns. They hadn’t told them why they needed this information, and he hadn’t pried - standard practice for the Tenryou Commission. He’s unhappy about important documents being confiscated. 

But he also knows that he’s talking with the Yashiro Commissioner, and the Cyclone. 

“Just keep it safe. Return it to my sister when you get back to Narukami.” Kujou relents. 

Kamisato nods. “Thank you.”

“Be safe,” Heizou echoes after him, mind already whirling with all the possibilities. 

It’s not a soldier of the Kujou Encampment, then. 

So what happened?

“We can trust him.”

Ayato raises an eyebrow. “How can you be sure of that, Detective?”

Shikanoin scowls. “It’s… Kujou Masahito is a good man. He has no reason to lie.”

“He could be covering something up.”

“Kujou Sara turned on her family the moment she learned of their betrayal and treachery.”

“Kujou Masahito is not Kujou Sara.”

Shikanoin glares at him. “Then you can continue suspecting. The sigil proves that the Tenryou Commission was involved in this somehow, anyway, whether the member is a past or present soldier.”

“The sigils aren’t confiscated upon resignation?”

“No.” Shikanoin traces the rim of his own sigil at his belt, almost absentmindedly. “Tenryou members are allowed to keep theirs, in memory of their time spent in service.”

“And the engravings are the number of years.”

“Correct.” Shikanoin’s finger runs down the small etchings, counting. “Six years is enough to climb the ranks. I’d be surprised that such a resignation didn’t have some form of noticeable ripple effect, considering all members are required to present theirs upon entering any Tenryou building - but everything has been thrown into chaos recently. Our lack of organization is making things… difficult.”

Ayato doesn’t make a derisive comment. Shikanoin seems to find that surprising, because he pauses before moving on. 

“The metal is too new. Too recently taken care of. It can’t be a coincidence - and yet, we found it so far away, dropped in a river.” Shikanoin frowns. “According to the report, Andou and Sanada were both found near the body. Andou agreed to go to the Encampment to give a witness statement, but Sanada cited an urgent family matter, and Andou had backed him up. He gave his witness statement on-scene, then left, promising to return when called. And yet… the day we come, both of them disappear to a Liyue business trip without warning.” 

“No matter how you frame it, it puts Sanada in immediate suspicion.”

“Andou’s cooperation could be a cover up for both of them, or it could be a genuine defense of his friend.” Shikanoin agrees. “But the timing of the disappearance is too coincidental.”

Ayato mulls over their information, their facts - fragmented pieces of a truth, of a picture.

“I’ll have to make sure that Kujou tightens the requirements and procedures for an investigation.”

“This isn’t standard?”

“No,” the Detective tells him. “Despite how dangerous it is in Kannazuka, foul play is rarely present, as sparsely populated as it is. Everyone bands together to survive - there aren't as many robberies or stolen dogs or… taken lives… as in Inazuma City.”

That’s news to Ayato. 

(He must confess, if only quietly to himself, that he’s lived so long embroiled in city politics that he no longer knows how to view the world through other lenses.)

“They’re kinder, here.” Shikanoin adds, softly, like it’s a secret. 

The sun shines above them. Another day wasted, chasing down clues like this - following Shikanoin’s elemental sight and on some occasions, his ineffective hunches and intuition - and still here they are, picking apart their reasoning under an otogi tree as the world crackles with electro energy around them.

Ayato breathes it in. 

Kinder.

“Unfortunate circumstances, then.”

“Partially.” The Doushin hums. “Whoever struck knew to use this moment for what it’s worth. The Tenryou Commission is in disarray, the Takatsukasa Clan has just made a move and has given them an invisible red line of self-interest and public trust, and communication is lacking between the camps.” 

What Shikanoin implies, but doesn’t dare say: The criminal is good. Talented at their job. Maybe we’ll have to walk away empty.

Something in Ayato hisses at the very thought of the justice unserved, the debt unpaid. “I have the greatest confidence in your abilities, Detective.” He drawls, trying to mask his anger. “Are you telling me that you aren’t so self-assured?”

“I’m practical.” Shikanoin responds, simply. “This is a complicated case. I’m not naïve enough to believe that a case like this can be solved so easily. It’s day two. Even for the harder cases, we’re moving slowly.”

That doesn’t reassure him at all.

The sky opens up halfway through their late afternoon chase. 

Ayato half expects Shikanoin to call off the search. It’s getting late, after all, and elemental sight is difficult when hydro falls all around you. 

But if anything, the detective speeds up. 

He gives no explanation other than, “Come on. The traces will disappear soon.”

Ayato, half impressed and half bemused, follows. 

Heizou sees patches of electro wherever he goes. 

It’s a thunderstorm, he muses, hearing the boom of thunder as they continue to traverse the plain, racing against time and the elements alike. It’s quite distracting. 

His hands are getting a little cold. 

Ahead, Heizou spots another patch of pyro - but it’s not the same glittering streaks of red-orange. When he deactivates elemental sight, he sees them for what they are - two flaming flowers, still yet ablaze in the middle of the storm. 

Heizou opens his (uninjured) hand, channeling the slightest bit of anemo into his hands, letting the water swirl near the corolla and allowing the reaction to do its work. 

When Kamisato catches up with him, Heizou offers the flower - a source of warmth. 

Kamisato only hesitates a little before taking it. 

Ayato begins to understand what Shikanoin means when he collects small bits. 

There’s a bolt of cloth stuck to a branch on Shikanoin’s path. He pockets it, even though the look and feel of the silk is clearly Liyuean. 

Shikanoin bends down when he spots a key glimmering with energy. It turns out to be touched with electro, but he takes it anyway - to return or investigate is anyone’s guess. 

Ayato himself finds shards of a bottle, and for a moment wonders if it might be an ink bottle. 

Shikanoin takes one look at it and points towards the shore, where a cork and the rest of the bottle rest. 

He doesn’t do it with disdain, though, and for a moment Ayato wonders. 

The traces are getting fainter, and it’s getting difficult for Heizou to see. 

Rain is hydro energy, after all, and no matter how potent the pyro may have been, in the end, it never takes longer than twenty minutes for there to be no traces of the pyro at all. 

Residue washes easily. The streaks of red have a longer chance of surviving, but Heizou knows, in a couple of minutes, that there will be nothing left to chase.

His feet take him at a faster pace. Kamisato keeps the speed behind him. 

There’s a spot of pyro on the ground, and Heizou bends down to pick it up, and-

His hand twitches, and he jerks back - not from any reaction of the blade, but from the sting of rain finally permeating the bandage and touching his wounds. 

Kamisato, without a word, sweeps past him and picks up the item of interest. 

Metal shards. 

“There should be more of them within this area.” Heizou says, trying not to wince as he clenches his hand and looks around, eyes flashing turquoise again. Kamisato nods, almost civilly, and Heizou leads them to four other places, picking up four other fragments in the process. 

He tries to use elemental sight again, but when he does, the splitting headache comes and he screws his eyes shut. 

Ah. Inconvenient. 

Kamisato is looking at him critically when Heizou opens his eyes again. It’s a strange expression - he can’t quite decipher it. 

“We should seek shelter,” The Yashiro Commissioner decides. “It won’t do either of us good to get sick in the middle of our investigation.”

It’s hard to tell, because of the rain, but the sun is beginning to set. A part of Heizou wants to keep doing this, keep chasing down the leads, as he’s always want to do when he’s on a trail - but he knows the merit of practicality. 

“Yeah, sure,” he murmurs. 

They don’t talk until they find one of Kannazuka’s many small caves - caveats in its mountains, eroded by time. 

Ayato draws his sword and probes at the walls, only after a while deeming it to be sturdy and stable enough to enter. Shikanoin doesn’t argue, which is a surprise. 

There’s no wood in the cave, so Ayato leaves his bag of evidence with a pointed thud and only leaves when Shikanoin nods at him. He doesn’t manage to find anything not sopping wet, but he does manage to find a broken, cast away lantern with just the slightest bit of oil left in it. When he returns, match in his hand and ready to light it, Shikanoin has already emptied his bag and has begun poring over the contents.

Namely, the five steel fragments they found only minutes prior. 

“Do you know,” he asks, once Ayato has busied himself, “if the effects of delusions are powerful enough to rival visions?”

He considers a moment before speaking. “It’s possible. I myself did not fight in the front lines, but Sangonomiya and Kujou both had mentioned that delusions would increase their soldiers’ capabilities to something rivaling a vision wielder.”

“Then that’s interesting.” Shikanoin takes out the same black powder Ayato had seen him use on the sigil, but this time, instead of a myriad of lines covering the surface, completely unreadable, there’s nothing at all. “Again, water does not wash away fingerprints. This person was wearing gloves every time they handled the blade - smart, but annoying in the circumstances. A very powerful pyro user, as well, considering the traces from just them leaving the scene were so prominent.”

“That feels too easy.” Ayato can’t help but say, and to his mild surprise Shikanoin nods. 

“It is. It is too easy, which means that either they want us to find everything we have been, or they’re cocky enough to believe they’ll get away with it.” 

The detective says nothing more, shifting the pieces around, seemingly trying to piece together what it once was. 

Ayato himself says nothing more. 

They don’t say anything,

and time simply passes like that. 

Ayato, not quite asking. Shikanoin, not quite offering answers. Their only interaction is Ayato throwing to him a roll of bandages, and Shikanoin catches it with a nod of thanks. 

It’s almost companionable, despite the pounding rain outside trapping them inside. 

A simple man, he muses. 

Yes, Ayato thinks, at this moment, despite all else and everything he has done. This is simple companionship.

And then, of course, things are no longer so simple. 

Shikanoin hears the scuffle first. Then Ayato does. 

The detective narrows his eyes. “The unsavories of Kannazuka do not fight amongst each other. It’s their silent peace treaty.”

Ayato understands. He grabs Haran Geppaku Futsu. 

Shikanoin pockets Solar Pearl. When they dash out of the cave, he lays down a tripwire, connecting to a mini firework, made to alert them if anyone else enters. 

He came prepared, Ayato can begrudgingly admit, but he doesn’t have much room to think about anything else before long, because as they get closer to the scuffle, it becomes increasingly clear who’s at the center of it. 

They don’t even have to go very far. 

It really is a coincidence, and Ayato would know his ninjas anywhere.

Chapter Text

Anemo and Hydro, all things considered, are not the most deadly set of elements in Teyvat. Plenty would point to Pyro, Cryo, even Electro and Dendro as a pair - wind and water have always been considered… softer. Graceful. Healing. 

Heizou himself would object to the healing part - especially on the behalf of Commissioner Kamisato, running right beside him. Kamisato is poison, through and through - but if nothing else, he is efficient in his deadliness. 

In mere seconds, they reach the scuffle. Heizou leaps right in with a cry, kicking up a cloud of anemo and sweeping the shouting nobushi off their feet, pulling them in. Immediately, Kamisato summons a hydro illusion, and soon it’s just mirages, flashes of hydro, mirror flashes and afterimages, and Heizou simply throws one more punch fully charged in before they all fall to their knees, no more. 

The bodies dissipate. Heizou frowns at the signs of demonic possession, but this is for the better. All souls will return to the cycle eventually. 

Perhaps they should make a report to Guuji Yae about the increasing demonic activity. Nonetheless, that isn’t the pressing matter, not yet - until they return to Narukami Island. 

What is the pressing matter is the ninja who’d been surrounded - and who looks very, very young. 

Heizou’s first instinct is anger. It was enough that Commissioner Kamisato had been using orphans and raising them in the Shuumatsuban, just so that he’d have a set of soldiers dedicated to him - but sending them out so early? So young?

Before he can make a derisive comment about it, however, he catches sight of Kamisato’s face - and he finds, surprisingly, anger. 

Anger, and disappointment. 

Heizou can think of several reasons for the anger. Maybe he’s angry that his spy has revealed themselves. Maybe he’s angry that their training is insufficient. 

But disappointment is the odd piece of the puzzle. 

The spy shifts on her feet, her tanuki wear making her look even younger than she likely is. “Kamisato-dono…”

“When I gave the order,” Kamisato starts, icily, “for the Shuumatsuban to clear the path ahead for our travel, I did not say that they should linger after the task had been completed. I did not, if I recall correctly,” he said, in a tone implying he very much did recall correctly, “send any of the spies-in-training.”

Defiance flashes through the young spy’s face - she clenches her fists, raising her eyes to meet her lord’s. “I’m not- I’m not a child, Kamisato-dono. I’m- you said it yourself! I’m qualified! I’m a full-fledged member of the Shuumatsuban in all but name!”

“And it is upon this technicality that is the reason why you shouldn’t be here in the first place.” Kamisato dismisses Haran, but he somehow looks all the more threatening for it. “What do you see around you? Did you see any other Shuumatsuban, backing you up? What if you had been captured? If Shikanoin and I weren’t here to intervene, would you have proposed to surrender? Give up our secrets?”

“You know I wouldn’t betray you!” It’s almost a comical sight - Kamisato easily towers over her, and yet she’s still holding her ground. “I swore allegiance! I swore to help-”

“Do you think that was what I was worried about, Sayu?”

Heizou blinks, startled.

Yes, he does not say. 

The young woman - Sayu - she too is startled, and for a moment she hesitates. 

Kamisato sighs, and for a moment it almost sounds tired - world-weary - fatigued - rather than exasperated and annoyed. “Go back to Narukami island, straight to the Kamisato Estate. Report to Thoma. He will decide your punishment.”

“But-”

“This is a direct order from your Lord.”

In face of such an explicit command from someone as powerful as the Yashiro Commissioner, it’s nearly every Inazuman citizen’s instinct to obey. It’s in their best interests, after all. Sayu, it seems, is no exception. 

Heizou, on the other hand, has forced himself to unlearn the habit drilled into him. His lack of respect for the authority figures is legendary, and his compliance is hard-earned. After all, nothing stops Cyclone in pursuit of the truth. 

Has he investigated people as powerful as the Yashiro Commissioner?

Yes.

He has unearthed secrets that would send any assassin after him, if they had known that he was behind their machinated, slow downfall. 

The pushback on the Takatsukasa Clan, for example. Heizou knew long ago that they were up to no good. He truly had no personal stake in any of the political disputes in Inazuma’s governance - but that didn’t matter, at the time, because Kujou Sara did, and Heizou knew that Kujou Sara, who had been kind to him (despite popular belief) and who had understood him, would suffer for wrongdoings that weren’t hers, and so he told Ippei that he didn’t know where Kujou Kamaji went, no, perhaps he should call around in the city streets and see if he can attract the attention of someone who did?

And a small, dangerous secret kept to him and him only:

The machinations of Kamisato Ayato and his puppet strings had long been discovered by Heizou, and he’d been trying to untangle him. 

But no matter what, everything he had was just that - intuition, circumstantial evidence, everything concrete long since destroyed. 

He would’ve been laughed at if he tried to present this to anyone. Or, perhaps, Kujou Sara would suspect - but then she would drive him away from further investigation, for his own safety. 

It drove him mad. 

Maybe that’s where another part of his hatred stems from. 

The Shuumatsuban is mysterious in every shape and form - hard to track, hard to discern, and most of all, hard to dissect. But Heizou had seen, had heard, had been pinpointing missing orphans pronounced dead and matched their timings and the Yashiro burials and had known, had known, that the Shuumatsuban had always been loyal to the Kamisato Clan because each member had never known anything else. 

Sayu, from the Shuumatsuban. Spy. Child. Future assassin, perhaps. Warrior. Killer. 

How dangerous of him. 

And Sayu looks hurt.

Heizou prides himself on reading people, the same way an interrogator must know the tells of the interrogated, but Kamisato’s blank stillness is intentional. Purposeful. 

He’s hiding something.

For a moment, Heizou wonders if it’s something he deems a weakness.

If it’s empathy.

(How much power does a puppetmaster lose, when one of the strings tied to his own limbs is thrust under the spotlight?)

But before long, Sayu has gone, run off, the claymore on her vanishing in a flicker of light and she rolls away, kicking up dirt and grass and swirling the hydro energy of the rain as it continues to pour down on them. 

Something in the Commissioner smooths down. 

Sometimes, Heizou forgets how easily Kamisato switches masks, like a performance on a stage - porcelain upon wood, smile upon frown, until there are so many layers that he wonders if he can still breathe. 

It’s unnerving, still. Like a snake shedding unneeded skin. 

“Well, Shikanoin. I suppose I should apologize for my subordinate’s lack of expertise.”

Kamisato does not say failure. Kamisato does not say mistake.

Something in Heizou tells him that if he were to parrot the same words back at him, Kamisato would not be so kind. 

Instead, he goes for the safe option, the safe reaction - turning away, nothing but indifferent. “It’s fine. Let’s head back.”

Heizou jogs through the wet landscape of Kannazuka deep in thought. 

Kamisato stalks right behind him, and he is alert - but still, thoughtful. 

It’s quite something to ruminate on, after all. 

Something about Ayato and Sayu’s interaction bothers Shikanoin for a long time. 

Ayato can tell, because he can do nothing if he cannot read people. 

It’s not his place to ask, however. Certainly not for Shikanoin. The previously boiling animosity between them had slowed down, somewhat, to a low simmer - but anything Ayato says still has the possibility of blowing up in his face, and he’d like to keep things civil, until at least the case is over and they can leave this behind them. 

But the air between them is thick with tension, enough that Ayato needs to take a walk before he snaps and undoes everything they’ve been building, willingly or not. 

So he says, “I’m going to take a walk.”

And Shikanoin responds, “Okay.”

Ayato takes it as permission. He stands up, walks to the mouth of the cave and puts his hand out to test the weather - it’s just a drizzle, nothing more, and Ayato deems it fit to leave. 

But he barely puts one foot out before Shikanoin adds, like an afterthought, “Wait.”

For some reason, that gives Ayato pause. Perhaps out of curiosity. No one has ever dared to tell Commissioner Kamisato to stop, before, and rarely has he ever stopped on anyone else’s account. 

He hears Shikanoin shift before speaking - the slight clink of metal against metal punctuating his words. “Something is bothering you.”

“I could say the same for you.” Ayato responds, easily. 

“A thought for a thought, then.”

“How does this benefit us?”

“Leaving things unspoken never ends well. It’ll hinder our progress.” Shikanoin phrases this in a way that would, on paper and ink, read matter-of-fact - but Ayato, with his practice reading people training themselves to be undecipherable, hears the undercurrent of melancholy and grief in his words, and he wonders. “Fine. I’ll go first. What’s going to happen to that spy? Sayu?”

That catches Ayato off-guard, but he responds, because a deal is a deal, however unspoken. “Thoma will find suitable disciplinary methods. However, I fear that he’ll likely just go soft on her. She’s young. The young make mistakes.”

If he’s right, Thoma won’t even assign her anything. He’ll just dress her wounds, give her a stern talking to, and send her directly to training under his watchful eye. 

It’s mercy. 

“Oh.”

“You sound surprised.”

“Maybe I am.” Ayato can’t see Shikanoin, but the shrug can almost be heard in his words. “It doesn’t fit the general perception of you.”

“Do you really believe I’m enough of a fool to let the general public see me for who I am?”

“Why tell me, then?”

“Would anyone believe you?”

“And there you are. Kamisato Ayato, his grip firm on the rumour mill.” Shikanoin huffs. “Well, that’s my curiosity. You had a question.”

He doesn't immediately answer.

Ayato throws the question in his mind. He imagines shaping it into a ball, a temari, and throwing it around - catching it, letting gravity pull it back down into his hands, throwing it, tossing it, into Ayaka’s hands in a garden with mother and father still watching them. 

“I’ll ask you some other time,” Ayato decides. 

“I don’t like being in debt.”

Shikanoin’s voice is surprisingly sharp. 

Ayato supposes it’s fair. He’s the Yashiro Commissioner, after all - both one of Guuji Yae’s and one of the Raiden Shogun’s acting hands. Typical debts owed to him could probably spell out the ruination of their life. 

But despite what Shikanoin seems adamant to believe, he doesn’t ruin lives he doesn’t need to. 

He wonders how much of the mystique surrounding the Yashiro Commissioner has been dispelled to the detective today. He let him see a side he’d kill to protect - he let him see his anger and his care for another. 

He let him see the strings on his body, the threads jerking his limbs. 

Politics makes puppets even out of the most skilled puppeteers, after all. 

Maybe part of it was calculated arrogance. No one would believe a mere Doushin’s word over the Yashiro Commissioner. No one would dare. 

“It’s not debt.” Ayato finds himself saying, and he lets himself walk out into the rain, the calming drizzle, water hitting him and letting him feel freer, with the surge, the flower standing still amidst dewdrops. “A favor, off the papers. Is that so hard to believe?”

Ayato strongly suspects, even with Shikanoin’s silence, that the answer is yes.

Chapter Text

“I’ve got it.”

Ayato looks up, stalling in his motions of sharpening Haran, instantly interested - because Shikanoin had been fiddling with those bits and shards of metal ever since the incident with Sayu, and he himself is curious. “Have you?”

“Look.” Shikanoin stands, gesturing as an invitation. Ayato dismisses Haran in a shower of sparks and a flick of the wrist before striding over, looking. 

The blade looks pieced together. Some slivers are still missing, but it’s clear that they were once a whole. 

A curved blade. A knife. 

“The murder weapon.”

“This is much longer than two sun.”

Shikanoin winces. “A miscalculation and oversight on my part, I’m afraid.” He sighs, fingers ghosting over as if remembering every moment he spent wondering at each individual fragment, wondering at their place in the puzzle. “The blades of Inazuma are all straight, only curved at the ends. My assessment was correct - to make a cut so small and precise, calculated, it would’ve been difficult with a long katana. But…”

Ayato hums. “The curve.”

“The curve.” The detective agrees. “I don’t recognize this form of blade - knife - whatever this is. But with that curved edge, and the bit of wood that appears to be what once was the handle, it’s clear that getting up close and personal and killing that way was not difficult. In fact, it looks like it was made for this - a quick dash, a measured swipe, and the person would be dead. It does explain the bloodstain pattern spraying to the victim’s left.”

Ayato stops listening about halfway through the explanation. He doesn’t really need it - Shikanoin is brilliant, and it’s clear that he doesn’t often make deductions to present as facts unless he’s confident. 

But his mind races through the possibilities. Shikanoin might not recognize the blade - but Ayato certainly does. 

“This is a Fatui knife.”

Shikanoin freezes. “What?”

“The curve and the handle. I recognize it.” Ayato blows out a breath, remembering all the moments his own neck nearly found itself on the wrong end of the weapon. “This explains the pyro traces, then. A delusion, not a vision.”

The detective scowls. “Then it makes sense. This is the work of the Fatui.” Shikanoin pauses. “Then the Takatsukasa Clan…”

“Possibly. Maybe not. The Fatui could have just been taking a lucky shot at one of my highest ranking spies.” Ayato points out. 

It’s a fair point. 

“That’s true.” Shikanoin concedes the point rather easily, which makes Ayato raise his eyebrow, just for a moment - but not for long, because this mystery is slowly unraveling itself, bit by bit, and they both need to be mentally present for it. “But they need to update their intelligence on you, do they not? Why would they set their sights on immediate elimination?”

That is also a fair point. 

The detective shakes his head. “Too little information to piece together motive, at least for now. Set that aside. Commissioner, do you equip your spies with elemental potions?”

On the grand scale of sensitive information Ayato is privy to, that falls on the lower end of the spectrum. His eyes still snap up, though, feeling his defenses rise. “And what prompted this, Shikanoin?”

“I’m not going to go around leaking your Shuumatsuban’s fighting styles to the public, Commissioner.” Shikanoin rolls his eyes. “You said it yourself. No one would believe me. It’s an educated guess, but given the circumstances, it’s pretty obvious.”

Something in Ayato smooths over with that, even though Shikanoin’s main goal clearly wasn’t to put him at ease. “Then I must confess to my curiosity, detective.”

“Elemental reactions,” Shikanoin says, simple, like it’s the answer to all of their problems. “A blade so well crafted doesn’t just shatter like this, much less into several fragments scattered around. The elements are powerful.” His eyes flash turquoise once more, as if verifying for himself again what he already knows. “The traces of electro on here are more potent - not something lightning can produce, though electro residue creates similar effects. And you yourself confirmed that this was the weapon of a pyro agent. A careless activation of the vision, and then…” Shikanoin mimics blowing apart with his hands. 

Ayato’s eyes narrow. “Would it have been enough to kill the agent?”

“No.” Shikanoin says, certain. “Too little. Besides, the agent’s body, if it could be killed by an Overloaded explosion, would have quite literally been blown to bits. The bloodstains would have been washed away, but it’s quite hard to clean up a body that’s scattered around an area, especially if you’re in a rush.”

“Then that’s one more piece fallen in place.”

Shikanoin frowns. “There’s another thing that has been bugging me, though. The Tenryou Sigil.”

“The Tenryou Commission has recently been exposed for colluding with the Fatui. It’s not unreasonable to assume that some traitors have not yet been weeded out by Kujou Kamaji.”

“No, that’s not it.” The detective sighs. “Our witnesses fled under suspicious circumstances. We can’t check their identities, not yet. A Tenryou Sigil, found abandoned, most likely left behind in a rush. But sigils are firmly clasped onto a soldier’s body - so that sigil was either ditched, or subject to such force that it had to detach itself.” Shikanoin taps his cheek in thought, like that’ll help his thought process. “Ditching it in a river doesn’t make sense. Few people have an eye as keen as yours - and I doubt that they expected us to comb Kannazuka so soon, but…”

If Ayato didn’t know better, he’d say that it almost sounds like a compliment. 

“The route they took was so roundabout that it was clearly taken with the idea of wearing us down. A senior of six years in the Tenryou Commission. If the soldier was a smart traitor, they’d resign and simply take the sigil with them, fleeing somewhere else. We’d never be able to track them down, especially in our current state.”

“The witnesses may have been Tenryou soldiers.”

“At least one of them.”

Ayato leans back against the wall of the cave. “You’re right. It doesn’t add up. The sigil left behind was either too purposeful or accidental.”

“And for it to be accidental, the traitor could not have been thinking for himself.”

The detective is correct.

This puzzle has an odd piece, and they have no idea where it’s meant to fit. 

Shikanoin sighs. “Forget it, forget it. Still too little info. I say we wait out the storm for the evening, then we set out for one last check before we head back to Narukami Island.”

The Yashiro Commissioner blinks. “So soon?”

“What else can we do here?” Shikanoin gestures around them. “Whatever elemental traces could’ve stayed have definitely washed away by now. It was always a race against time. And now, the situation has proved that we need the identities of those witnesses as soon as possible. Getting back, we might get there earlier than the documents can be found, but at least we can interview Andou’s family.”

“I suppose that is reasonable.” Ayato walks over to the other end of the cave, finding his matches and striking another to re-light the lantern, flickering in the wind blowing in from the cave (despite their best efforts). “Very well. Rest until morning.”

Shikanoin rolls his eyes and mutters something under his breath. 

Ayato doesn’t bother dissecting it. It’s a pleasant night, without taking into account the circumstances - he has no interest in ruining it for himself yet.

Heizou takes the mouth of the cave, because it’s his vision powering the anemo barrier that’s keeping away most of the wind from their temporary shelter. 

He lies down, trying his best to rest. He finds himself unable, though. 

It’s to be expected. Heizou has always felt the most restless while on the chase. 

So for a brief moment, he cracks open his eyes, looking out at the world and wondering. The rain batters, the wind howls - but Kamisato’s breathing is even behind him, and for a moment Heizou marvels at this trust. 

It’s not easy trust. It’s definitely not complete trust, because Kamisato does not sleep deeply, perhaps never will, and if Heizou were to throw a dagger at him there would be no doubt that Kamisato would wake and deflect it right back into his throat. 

But such a display of vulnerability, no matter how small - the fact that Heizou is even able to see it - is interesting. 

There are no stars tonight. The skies cloud over with storms, and lightning flashes, drowning out any hope of vision acclimating to darkness, enough to see the faint pinpricks that surely must exist above the blanket of darkness. 

But there’s still some kind of tranquility to be found here - in the rhythm of Kamisato’s quiet breathing, Heizou’s heartbeat, the rustle of leaves and the pitter-patter of rain. 

It’s tranquil. Peaceful. 

Odd, for him to associate these words with his situation. 

In the absence of other things to focus on, his mind wanders, and picks apart the thoughts in his head. It’s a blessing for him as a detective - but a curse for him as a person.

Because he picks apart his interactions today, the civil conversations he’s had with someone he’s always claimed to wholly loathe - and it leaves him floundering for a bit. 

He picks at the thought so much that he imagines it begins bleeding, like his hands still yet healing from his miscalculation brought on by lingering anger and irrational frustration - with Kamisato, with the world, with himself.

Heizou doesn’t like to hate. It leaves something festering within him, something he can’t calculate and account for as objective as he’d like. 

So what if, a part of his mind whispers, what if we don’t need to hate him?

What if we could hold him at the same length as others - as strangers?

Wouldn’t that be better?

Would it?

It’s the thought that Heizou turns around in his mind until he falls asleep, under the watch of thunderclouds and battering rain.

(Unlike what Heizou thinks, though, the Yashiro Commissioner is not asleep.

He is very much awake - still too wired from years of assassination attempts, especially without the comfort of his own home. 

But still, he does not turn around. His back is pressed against the tatami mat, but he does not turn on his side to keep the detective in his sights. 

A calculated risk, he tells himself - but he's never been foolish enough to believe himself to be honest, even in the safety of his own mind.)

The last comb of Kannazuka is uneventful, at first. 

Even the regular unsavories have fled upon hearing both the Cyclone and his mysterious able-bodied companion were prowling the lands. Their only encounter is with a camp of hilichurls - one that both Heizou and Kamisato dispatch with ease. Heizou loots it, but doesn’t find much of interest to him, except for a couple of pieces of paper and some ores that he shelves for the next time the Traveler deigns to visit Inazuma. 

But it does not stay uneventful. 

It starts with something silent - Heizou changes course, because he’s curious about a house that looks like it’s well lived in and wondering if anyone lives there. 

And Kamisato follows him, because despite his obvious reluctance, the Commissioner has allowed Heizou to take the lead of the investigation, deferring to his expertise. 

So Heizou changes course, just slightly, just by an angle - such a small angle that it nearly turns out to be completely pointless and not notable. 

But then the stench hits him, and Heizou realizes that there’s something else at play. 

(As a detective, Heizou is intimately familiar with the feeling of unease, creeping in his bones every time something goes beyond his expectations.

This is not new. This feeling is not new. 

Neither is the smell, although he greatly wishes it were.)

“Something’s wrong,” Heizou says, to himself, to Kamisato - perhaps to no one at all.

A harmless, detached observation. 

Heizou walks up to the door. The stench is obvious, now, and from the way Kamisato stiffens he must realize it too - but still he delays the inevitable, because he so desperately wants to be wrong, just this once. 

He brings up a fist to knock. 

Once.

Twice.

“Hello?” He calls, voice pitched to carry, surely to carry beyond the door. “Is anyone home?”

There is no reply. 

“We approach with the full authority of both the Yashiro Commision and the Tenryou Commission. Please open the door.”

No reply. 

Heizou wants to be wrong. Just this once. 

Please, he prays to whoever is listening, as he lowers his bandaged hand from the center of the door to the knob. Please. Hasn’t there been enough?

Hasn’t Inazuma seen enough bloodshed?

(Heizou is not pious, but sometimes, he wonders if the gods listen.)

Cautiously, he opens the door, as if delaying this will change anything. 

(He knows that it won’t. But Heizou himself has always known that he’s been a fool in more ways than one all his life - and this is simply another of his failures.)

The sight of bodies is not unfamiliar to him. 

He wishes it were, though. 

He wishes he were wrong.

Chapter Text

“Shikanoin.” 

Ayato, usually with a myriad of words and vocabulary at his fingertips, finds himself trailing off, the ends of his sentences fluttering out of his grasp. 

The word is enough, though, where Ayato isn’t, and the detective shakes himself out of his brief stupor, swallowing dryly. Ayato can see his mouth work to form syllables before he actually speaks. “We… need to contact the Encampment. We…”

“Yes.” Ayato says, curses himself for how lost he feels, how clipped he sounds. “Which flare?”

“The emergency one,” Shikanoin says, dully, and Ayato does as he says without any argument. 

He steps outside, reaching into his sleeves for the match he carries on hand and strikes it against the box, igniting it and sending the fireworks up in the air. It bursts in a shower of sparks above him - red, three times. 

The fresh scent of the rain still hangs in the air, tinged slightly with lightning as Ayato learns is always to be expected on Kannazuka Island. He does not like the smell of blood any more than any other Inazuman citizen. His hands have been stained red with it on multiple occasions - both figuratively and literally - and in his earliest days Thoma could often find him rubbing his hands raw, trying to cleanse bloodstains that would never come off. 

He forces himself to go back inside after the bang of gunpowder stops ringing in his ears. Turning on his heel, he swings the door open again, then shuts behind him, watching as Shikanoin begins taking notes on his notepad - almost mechanically, without any thought or emotion. 

Ayato forces himself to look. If this family has died, then he must at least witness the sins Inazuma commits against itself - for the betterment of their people. 

“They were hung.”

Shikanoin answers his unasked question. Ayato stays silent. 

“No blood. Just a rotting corpse.” Shikanoin pauses again, like he’s trying to find the right words to use. “It’s… been a few days. But it couldn’t have been longer than that.”

Ice shoots through Ayato’s veins. They started the investigation only a couple of days ago.

“The timing…”

“Maybe yes, maybe no.” Shikanoin says, again, again, again, but even he sounds like he’s gritting his teeth and Ayato watches as he presses ink into paper, too deep and too harsh. “We can’t… archons. Archons, damn it.”

“We need them to identify the bodies.”

“Yes.” Shikanoin rubs his eyes, runs a hand through his hair. It’s a nervous habit of his, Ayato’s noticed. “...I checked. No footprints that we can get a good run of. Help me dust the place.”

The detective hands him a small container of the powder Ayato’s seen him use already on two occasions. Ayato takes it in hand, pulling on his gloves and beginning to make work of the situation. 

There’s no room for their petty disagreements, especially now. 

By some mercy, Shikanoin seems to know this too - and he falls silent as they start work. Ayato is not afraid to get his hands dirty, not for this - the filthy ground stains his robes and he’ll need to wash them thoroughly, he knows. He spreads a fine layer on the doorknob they used, even though he knows it’s a lost cause - they were much too careless entering the place of residence. 

But there are other ways. Other places to trace. 

Kamisato Ayato gets to work. 

It’s futile. 

They did their best. 

But Ayato knows perhaps better than anyone else when one’s best can’t be enough. 

Shikanoin slumps, back against the wall and closing his eyes in defeat. “Damn it.”

“No traces.” Ayato takes his gloves off, wiping his brow. “Did you find anything with elemental sight?”

“Not enough. Either it was not a vision wielder, or they were smart enough to not use their vision-granted elemental abilities - merely their enhanced strength.”

“That does not narrow the pool down much.”

“I know. Fuck, Kamisato, I know.” Shikanoin covers his eyes with a hand, breathing deep, and Ayato wonders at himself, if he’d meant his previous words with any kind of disdain. “Damn it. We need to leave this to the others.”

“How long until they’re here?” It miffs Ayato, a little, on the inefficiency of the Tenryou Commission. He and Shikanoin have spent nearly a third of an hour searching the area - and yet, there is still no sign of the enforcing hands of the Shogun. 

How do Kannazuka’s residents live in peace, knowing that help, in the likely case that they needed it, would be so very far away?

“I told you it’s dangerous here.” Shikanoin asks, once again appearing to demonstrate mind-reading abilities even though Ayato himself knows very well that his thoughts are firmly kept to himself. “Maybe ten more minutes. It’s an emergency, but we’re not very well equipped after the civil war… and Kannazuka is a big island.”

Ayato huffs. “Keep this up, Shikanoin, and I may actually bring the idea of funding Inazuma’s outer islands to the Raiden Shogun herself.”

Despite the situation, the detective’s lips twist into a wry smile. “Finally past your breaking point, Kamisato?”

“Hardly. Shouldn’t you be proud of yourself?”

“As if there’s anything to be proud of when Lord Kamisato has benefited you. I’d sooner believe that it’s for your own benefi…” Shikanoin trails off. 

Ayato frowns. 

It was difficult to imagine, for a second, for just a second - but he could’ve sworn that this was comfortable, safe banter. Friendly, not a chance - but at least with some level of camaraderie. “Shikanoin?”

“Do you hear that?”

The detective’s voice is sharp. It has an edge to it that Ayato remembers from their first few days of working together - no, that can’t be right. This is more alert. Careful. Guarded, not by emotions - but physically tense.

No, Ayato almost says, but then, in the space between his inhale and exhale, he hears it - the faintest rustle of a bush, the crack of a twig, and the unmistakable sound of a blade being drawn. 

Shit.

“Duck!” Shikanoin yells, and Ayato finds himself bending down on instinct - part due to the detective’s warning, part due to the sound of an arrow, whistling through the air, and when he straightens up again half a breath later and sees the projectile quiver, firmly embedded in the wood right where Ayato’s head had been. 

Shikanoin grabs his wrist. Ayato jerks it away out of instinct but does not put up further resistance in following Shikanoin in running out, out of the house to burst through the door, to finally get an unobstructed view of their assailants. 

Heizou will be the first to admit he wasn’t thinking when he ran out - but he supposes that this is advantageous to them anyway, given the visibility they both need in targeting their enemies. 

He still regrets it a little, though, when he steps out to air (fresh air, clean air, what was meant to be untainted by the evil he’s witnessed-) and finds a dozen blades, a handful of guns, and a hammer all ready to strike at them both. 

Instinctively, he steps back into the only possible ally in this situation. His back hits Kamisato without warning, but neither of them say any word of protest. In a flash, Haran Geppaku Futsu is called, and Heizou feels his hands curl around anemo energy as Solar Pearl appears, floating and spinning right beside him. 

“A most unexpected welcome.” Kamisato’s voice regains the silky (the fake) quality of politeness that he’d dropped in front of Heizou, and he almost shivers at the way he so easily pulls up yet another mask - the skilled manipulator, the puppeteer, every bit Yashiro Commissioner. “You could have sent us an invitation, good sirs. I find that I am not the least bit presentable to receive such distinguished guests.”

“Enough with the honeyed words, Kamisato.” One of the agents steps forward - pyro, blades at the ready, and Heizou knows, he just knows- “We followed you all the way here. A pity that you saw this before we could stop you. We could have let you live.”

“Bullshit.” Heizou lets slip out, anger snaking its way through his words like a viper, poised to strike. “What do you want?”

“You have a key.” The agent says, simple and clear cut. “Give it to me, and I’ll make your deaths painless.”

The key that Heizou picked up without much thought does not exactly rattle in his pockets, but the sentiment is there. “The electro energy wasn’t from lightning, then. It was from delusions.”

“A quick one. It truly is a pity. The Tsaritsa could have benefited from your service.” The agent appraises them both. “From both of your services.”

“If you were under any impression that we would cooperate with you, Fatui, then I must say that you were sorely mistaken.” Kamisato replies, and it’s a testament to Heizou’s experience with his hatred that he recognizes it, simmering and beginning to boil to the surface. “I would frankly rather die than have any hand in your dealings.”

“Intriguing, coming from such a powerful figure in Inazuma.” The Fatuus clicks his tongue, raises his hand - and with it, all the gunners raise their weapons. Distantly, Heizou hears the stretch of bows, the click of a crossbow fully loaded. The ronin - hired muscle, likely - all ready their stances. The vanguard raises his hammer, crackling with electro energy. “Tell your subordinate to give us the key, Kamisato. You’re a smart man. I’m sure you already know how many consequences there will be without your caution.”

That is Heizou’s final straw, and it’s evidently Kamisato’s, too. Because the Yashiro Commissioner raises his sword, eyes flashing blue, and Heizou finds himself saying, spitting-

“I’m not his anything.”

-and charges in, fists bearing down as all hell breaks loose. 

Shikanoin is being reckless. 

Ayato doesn’t need to turn around to know this. He can tell from the movement of the wind, the vitalizing energy of anemo and its free spirit - and he can’t afford to turn around, anyway, not when the Kamisato Art of Suiyuu requires such intense focus and precision. The mirage is a good distraction for enemies, but he needs to be careful. 

The detective has no such qualms. It’s an unfair battle, and not in their advantage - but if there’s something that Ayato has learned about them both over the past few days, it’s that both he and Shikanoin are unbelievably, stupidly stubborn at the best of times. 

But that doesn’t matter. 

That doesn’t matter. 

Ayato curses as his hydro infusion runs out and dashes across the field in a moment to avoid a katana cleaving his skull in half, immediately proceeding to slit the throat of a pyro gunslinger who’d just stumbled from the breaking of his shield. In the next moment, he jumps back to avoid an electro hammer bearing down on the ground, sidestepping elegantly behind the vanguard to run his sword directly through the body of yet another ronin - and he feels the whoosh of wind behind him, the desperate hit of body against body-

Flare, flare, flare, emergency-

“The people of Kannazuka are kinder, Kamisato.”

He grasps at the energy almost desperately, unleashing his elemental burst in a torrent of fury. He is not often the wave, the all-encompassing force of water that will not be denied the shore - but in this moment he is the deluge, the rainwater pounding, the deadly cutting sting of hydro and small droplets turned into weapons fast enough to kill, and-

A scream in the air. 

It’s not the ronin’s, nor is it the Fatui’s.

“Shikanoin!”

“I’m fine! Son of a bitch-” The detective is far, too far, and his voice is tight with pain but he still fights, he still hears the anemo brush through the air and breeze against him on occasion - “Stab wound! Get the archer, he’s in the high bush-”

Ayato does not need to be told twice. In the next breath, he leaps up, sacrificing precious seconds to cut down the archer in question and watches as the body crumples before sacrificing even more precious seconds of his attacks to dodge the next flurry of projectiles, thrown daggers and crossbow arrows alike. 

“Maybe ten more minutes. We’re not very well equipped, after the civil war,” Shikanoin’s voice echoes in his mind, taunting him. 

Ten minutes, Ayato thinks, almost hysterically. A heavily injured detective is his only ally, and his hands are sore, his body on overdrive trying to process everything, compartmentalize everything, register everything and try not to get killed.

Ten minutes. 

Ayato remembers a rare moment, when he’d fought side by side with the Traveler in a period of time when he had to be nothing but a travel companion. No battle had lasted more than two minutes between the warriors. 

He’s not one to give in to the depths of despair, far too stubborn for that - but he does wonder.

Can they really last ten minutes?

Chapter Text

Five minutes and forty-three seconds.

They make it five minutes and forty-three seconds before the last ronin’s body falls to the ground. 

Ayato breathes out slowly, still yet unmoving, reaching his senses as far as they can to affirm for himself their safety. He dares to hope. 

There are no more blades, no more light footsteps hitting close. Arrows lay scattered in the ground around him - he does not bother inspecting them. Faintly, he feels the blood from a cut on his arm well up and drip down, and a pulsing pain in his lower left leg. 

Labored breathing, a sound that he is intimately familiar with. When Ayato finally sheathes Haran, he pulls out his medkit in the same fluid motion, striding over to where Shikanoin has lowered himself to the ground, leaning on a tree the entire time. 

“Let me see it.” He says, shortly, tone brooking no argument. It speaks volumes about the state of his wound that Shikanoin nods, no further snarks as he allows him to crouch down and begin the cleaning process. 

Shikanoin holds still the entire time. 

He must be used to this kind of pain, Ayato thinks mindlessly. 

The sky opens up above them. The rain begins pouring down relentlessly, like it’s trying to wash away this world’s sins - to erase any trace of heinous acts performed, assassinations attempted and done. 

There will be nothing to salvage in the house if they do not hurry - but even Ayato and Shikanoin both flinch when the tree nearby gets struck by lightning, and can do nothing but watch as a branch falls through the air, slamming into the roof with a resounding crack.

“The Tenryou Commission has their ways. Our work is done here.” Shikanoin tells him, quietly. 

Once again, Ayato wonders if Shikanoin truly can or can’t read minds. 

They find another cave - less space than before, but it’s enough to take cover. It’s not too far from the site of battle they just left. 

Shikanoin tells Ayato that he estimates the rain will slow the patrol down by another five minutes at least. Ayato tries not to groan too loudly - he really does need to raise the possibility of more funding to the rest of the Tri-Commission. Even if the Kujou Clan has fallen so far out of the Raiden Shogun’s favor, Inazuma’s people come first. 

If it had been anyone else who had stumbled upon this warehouse today, the Tenryou Commission would be finding a cooling body, not a set of injured officials. 

Shikanoin leans his head against the cavern wall, fighting to keep his breathing steady. Ayato hears it in the way that he measures his breaths, catches himself when he feels something - pain, likely - and the way he tries to distract himself, by doing anything, anything other than being idle. Scanning the cave for more potential threats to their person. Combing the area ahead of them, even as obscured with rain as it is. Listening for any sign of a patrol running to their aid. 

Ayato is familiar with this tactic.

He also knows that conversation will always be the most effective of them. 

“They mentioned a key. Do you know what they were talking about?”

Hands shaking, Shikanoin pulls something out of his many pockets - a dull, silver key, one that Ayato had seen him pocket on their run around Kannazuka. 

It’s unassuming and plain. Ayato had thought that it would belong to a resident, and that they would deliver this key to the Kujou Encampment to find the missing owner when they eventually got back. 

He would still be thinking that, if he didn’t just witness how a pyro fatui agent was willing to show such a big hand for that key. 

Shikanoin brushes a thumb over the key. “They hid it well in plain sight. I didn’t think that this would be a delusion factory key either.”

“Electro residue.”

“Yes.” He closes his eyes, leans back against the cavern walls once more. “I thought that the energy was from one of the lightning storms. Or maybe from Tatarasuna. We weren’t too far. But this is the only key I have on my person.”

“That cements this, then. The Fatui had an involvement in the murder of that family.”

“They did. That’s for certain.” Shikanoin pauses before continuing. “I can’t be sure if that familial genocide was related to the case, but it’s looking highly likely. The Fatui don’t involve themselves unless it’s completely necessary.”

Something strikes Ayato, at that moment. “You mentioned that there was a raid on the delusion factory recently.”

“I did.”

“Do you think this was the same key?”

“No.”

Ayato narrows his eyes. 

“They would’ve left that factory for dead, if they were smart. And I hate to give the Fatui credit, but they’re smart. They’re very smart about this.” Shikanoin sighs, letting his arm drop and stashing the key away once more. “I’m going to hand this over to the Tenryou Commission to see if they can find one of the other delusion factories that we’re clearly still missing. It’s not our job anymore.”

If this were the Ayato of three days ago, he would’ve made a derisive comment now about how eager Shikanoin is to shirk his responsibilities and run away from things that don’t involve him. 

Looking at him now, pale and slumped, Ayato thinks back to when the Detective had seriously considered giving up their chase, precious days of time, to help the delusion factory raid that he knew was going to happen. 

He decides to stay silent. 

The patrol arrives earlier than Heizou anticipated, which is a welcome surprise. 

Ignoring the protests of his body and the fire in his veins, he pushes himself up to stand. He can move his legs. He can talk without sounding like he’s actively dying. Therefore, he should get to work. 

He needs to get to work. This case won’t solve itself, and Heizou fears that they’re running out of time - he knew, going into this, that this would be something dangerous, but he hadn’t quite realized the full scope of this issue. 

What was once simply the murder of a high-ranking member of the Shuumatsuban (which really wasn’t as simple as Heizou made it to be) turned into a complicated, interweaving set of circumstances involving Fatui and inter-diplomatic relations. 

Not that Inazuma really has a diplomatic arm after the Sakoku Decree, Heizou thinks, privately, almost a little vindictive. 

He finds Kujou Masahito himself at the site of their battle, and startles. “Kujou-san?”

The older man’s head snaps up, relief evident upon seeing Heizou’s person - to his eyes, at least alive, if not wholly unharmed. “Shikanoin-san. You’re alive.”

“It would take more than a band of Fatui mercenaries and ronin to kill me and the Yashiro Commissioner.” Heizou gestures at the house, its foundations straining under the weight of a rapidly collapsing tree right beside it. “I assume you’ve gotten all you need.”

“Standard procedure. You know how it is.” Kujou sighs. “We didn’t need to look too far, though. We know who the family was.”

Maybe a part of Heizou knew to expect this. Things are never simple, especially in cases that run on for as long as this with - at the risk of sounding overconfident - him as the detective. But something in Heizou still sinks when he hears Masahito say the next words, because while it does eliminate plenty of possible scenarios that had been bouncing around in his head, it means that they’ll have to be more careful going forward. 

This isn’t just a murder case anymore. This is betrayal and collusion, and the threat of destabilizing Inazuma - starting from its remote islands but one day inevitably reaching Tenshukaku itself. 

“We were here less than a week ago, interviewing a witness’ family about his whereabouts.” The general tells him. “Those corpses are all the known members of Sanada’s family.”

The clarity of the situation doesn’t make it easier for him. 

No, not at all. 

Heizou doesn’t even need to turn around to know that Kamisato’s gaze has sharpened. “We need to get back to Narukami Island immediately. We must account for Andou’s family.”

For once, Heizou is agreeing with him. 

(There seems to be a lot of that, recently.

Heizou doesn’t think much about it, not yet. There’s a case to work through.)

Chapter Text

“Shikanoin.”

“I’m fine.”

Ayato raises an eyebrow. “We can afford to rest a little longer. You will be no use to anyone dead.”

“Well, good thing I won’t be dead, will I?” Shikanoin bites out, even as he braces himself against a tree trunk. In the next second, he pushes himself off, scowling. “Whatever. We have a job to do.”

“You’re being stupid. The messenger will arrive before us, and he will explain all there is.”

“The last time we made that assumption, we were led to believe that Sara did not know that there were witnesses at all.”

“This isn’t the last time.”

“Doesn’t matter. It can happen again.” Shikanoin sighs, stumbling a few steps before he regains his previous rhythm of a rushed walk. “I know. At least we’ll have a file on Sanada and Andou. But time is of the essence. If Andou’s family is-”

He cuts himself off, as if he doesn’t want to entertain the thought either. 

Something churns in Ayato’s stomach and he looks away. He doesn’t want to think about the possibility either. 

“You have the key?”

In lieu of an answer, Ayato digs into his pockets past the knives he’s sure Shikanoin knows are there - and produces the key in question. “Why?”

“Bait.” Heizou says, simple. “They’re getting desperate. Fear of the higher ups, probably. Either way, that agent knows that he has little time to live if he doesn’t get that key back, and he’s going to come for us again.”

“Awfully reckless of you.” Ayato narrowed his eyes. “You’re injured.”

“And there are patrols about twenty Jō away from us on either side.” Shikanoin points, almost languidly. “They have lookouts. We’ll be fine.”

“Still not your wisest decision.” Ayato glares at the key, like it has somehow personally offended him. “What if we make it to Narukami, and then the agent decides to attack then? Civilians will be on the line.”

“Didn’t know you cared.”

The comment is so one-off and casual that Ayato has to do a double take. 

“But we’ll hand it off to another official once we’re on the shores. We might be underfunded, Commissioner, but we’re capable.” Shikanoin seems to remember something, and he frowns. “For the most part.”

“And he’ll act alone?”

“Probably. I’m fairly confident.” 

“Probably?”

“I’ve learned not to be certain of anything.” Shikanoin gestures at him. “But the only target, really, of the Fatui right now is the key. It doesn’t make sense for the agent to get more people involved - least of all people who might be gunning for his position.”

Ayato falls silent. 

It does make sense, he supposes. Besides, Shikanoin’s reasoning has not failed them yet. And he’s right - patrols so close can run to their aid in less than half a minute if needed, even weighed down by armor. 

(But there is a critical oversight made by them both - in Ayato’s arrogance, and in Shikanoin’s lack of information. For all that Shikanoin is aware of Ayato’s hand in puppeteering most of Inazuma, he fails to account for how much he has gotten in the way of the Fatui in the past decade. 

And Ayato, having been ambushed so many times and only having ever been asked for cooperation, has convinced himself of his importance - a critical chess piece even the Fatui cannot lose. 

But in the wake of Inazuma’s peace, the Fatui have deemed the nation uncontrollable - and so, the agent need not approach them with the intent of only reclaiming the key.

Assassination.

What a small word, for an event so big.)

“Camp of ronin up ahead. We could clear them out.”

“Stay back. I’ll take care of them.”

“And you were calling me reckless not twenty minutes ago. Charging into a camp like that on your own? Really?”

“They won’t land a hit on me.”

“That’s confident of you.”

“I know.”

“How did the raid go?”

From where Shikanoin has been walking ahead of him, Ayato sees him pause. “Where did that question- oh.” He also sees the moment when his eyes land on the same thing Ayato’s had only a moment prior - the unassuming delusion factory, collapsed, clearly not in business. “Well, the factory is smoking. I’ll take that as a good sign.”

“As good a sign as any.” Ayato allows. “Was it good?”

“Kujou-san - Masahito-san, that is - told me that it went better than expected.” Shikanoin’s hands fidget with each other, like Ayato’s found that he’s wont to do whenever he gets nervous about something or another. “No casualties. A couple of injuries, which were to be expected… but interestingly, he did also tell me, specifically, that there was only one pyro Fatui agent there. Plenty of gunslingers and hammers, but only one assassin.”

It’s easy to see where he’s going with this. “So you think the agent that targeted us also runs one of these factories.”

“Oh, definitely.” Shikanoin hums. “But also, it’s worrying. There are plenty of agents in Inazuma. That means we are missing more of these smaller factories than we think.”

“Mass production… in preparation for controlling Inazuma, completely and fully.” Ayato murmurs, fingers drifting to the key in his pocket. “Well. We’re no longer in a civil war.”

“No, we are not.” Shikanoin agrees. “Kujou-san also told me that the factory did not appear to be in operation when they raided it. It supports our theory - but also doesn’t explain why they didn’t pull out.” The detective frowns. “Could be that they didn’t receive orders. In that case - who's the harbinger in charge?”

“Are we sure it’s a harbinger?”

“They did say ‘Lord Harbinger’, yes.” Shikanoin answers, and there’s the signature drawl that Ayato has not heard in a while. “We don’t know which one, but I’m sure they’ll talk with some questioning. And if the harbinger did leave without giving them orders… more time for us.”

Ayato nods, partially in agreement, partially absentminded. 

The ruins of the factory still smoke, even with all the rain on this island. 

“Still not going to ask your question, Kamisato?”

“I’m thinking.”

“Alright, have it your way…”

“I’m curious. How did you get so close with the Kujou family, anyway?”

“Mostly just Sara. I’d been a detective that they couldn’t really let go, but most superiors couldn’t stand my… uh. Eccentricity.”

“That’s one way to put it.”

“You’re in no place to talk. But either way, Sara didn’t really care too much about what I did, despite all appearances to the contrary. As long as I got the job done. And she was one of the only ones who could beat me in a square fight.”

“Have you considered overhauling your commission officers?”

“We have. Several times over. Sara-san is trying her best.”

“No need to get defensive with me. I was thinking I might lend her a hand.”

“...are you serious?”

“Why, of course I’m serious. Do you not believe that I would act in Inazuma’s best interests, Detective?”

“...”

“...”

“...you know what, I’m not even going to answer that. As long as you’re not hurting them.”

“The rain’s going to come down again.”

“That soon? We had a downpour only two hours ago.”

“I don’t know how the island kept so dry during our chase, to be honest. I’m pretty sure there were still plenty of clues that were washed away before we got there, but there was no way we could’ve prevented that. Either way, this is common. Ah - careful with that crack in the ground there. It opens up to something I’m not sure we’d survive.”

“I thought the Mikage Furnace issue was solved.”

“It was. Kind of. The water’s still plenty deadly, though.”

“...I will raise this issue with the Priestess once we are back.”

“I appreciate the thought, but really. There’s no fixing this.”

“We should find shelter, then.”

“No time to lose, Kamisato. Come on.”

“We are going to find shelter, Shikanoin.”

“By the Almighty Shogun- oi! What are you doing??”

“Finding shelter. Come on.”

The cave is small, musty, damp, musty… other adjectives for musty. Heizou’s out of ideas, and the pain is a little bit more insistent in grabbing his attention now, so he may as well. 

He lets Kamisato do the prodding around the corners this time, even if he’d rather do it himself. Besides, he’s due for a change of bandages anyway - and so their routine starts like this, with Kamisato trying to find structural weaknesses or traps, and Heizou pulling out his medkit. 

When Kamisato gives him the all clear, Heizou starts the process of rewrapping his wounds. 

It’s not too much of a painful process by any means. Kamisato eyes him critically at some point, as if worried about something - but before Heizou can ponder too much on the meaning of such a look, he turns away, looking out the cave’s opening, and Heizou doesn’t think too much about it. 

It’s not much of a long process, either. Heizou doesn’t have much time to muse regardless before the bandages are back in the kit and he’s sat himself straighter up. 

“Can I ask you a question, Shikanoin?”

“You’ve been asking me questions left and right on our way back,” Heizou fires back, half on instinct. “Unless you mean that blank cheque.”

“An eloquent way to put it.” Kamisato’s voice is smooth and unperturbed as ever - it still stirs dislike in Heizou, but he swallows it down, just this once.

“Well, spit it out.”

(There’s a moment between this and Kamisato’s next words that Heizou doesn’t pay much attention to, but it doesn’t matter much. Not yet. Heizou tries his best to be civil, and Kamisato returns it in kind - but few people know that Kamisato Ayato truly does have an inner curious mind, and sometimes, he indulges it.)

“Why do you hate me?”

The question is so out of pocket that it throws Heizou for a loop.

“No skirting around this, no dodging it, although I would appreciate some level of civility, still.” Kamisato continues, as if Heizou isn’t staring at him. “I just want to know.”

“Why- Why do I hate you?” Heizou laughs out of incredulity. “I- don’t you know that best? Shouldn’t I be asking you that instead?”

“And that’s what you pull out every time I try to ask. I want to know.” There’s steel in his eyes but not in his voice - Heizou wonders, briefly, if he’s making a conscious effort to keep it that way. 

Heizou takes a deep breath. 

(He watches as Kamisato tenses, as if bracing himself for something.)

Where does he even start? Heizou doesn’t know. There are plenty of reasons why he holds hate for someone like the Yashiro Commissioner, even when the rest of Inazuma holds him in relatively high regard - but that doesn’t matter, does it?

He wants the truth. 

“There’s a cold case in the Tenryou Commission. I took it up without telling anyone but Kujou Sara.” Heizou sighs. “Do you remember the name of Ishikawa?”

He watches as Kamisato freezes.

“That-”

“You were good.” Heizou admits. “But you weren’t good enough. There were complaints of rot. Thoma-san was inexperienced, wasn’t he?”

Kamisato’s hands drift to his belt. Heizou sees Haran gleam, just briefly. “So why didn’t you report us?”

“I did. Sara shut me down.”

That gives Kamisato pause. 

Heizou closes his eyes. He still remembers that day vividly. “She told me to not pursue it anymore. She knew it was dangerous. She worried that I would be silenced.” Heizou tilts his head. “Odd, now that I’m confessing this to you.”

“I could kill you.”

The four words are said without deflection, without hesitation. There’s steel in his voice now. Heizou wonders, again, if it is intentional.

“You could.” Heizou agrees. “I think Sara would have you arrested.”

“She would not have evidence.”

“The word of a General, the Shogun’s Right Hand, against yours, Kamisato. Do you really want to jump into that political battlefield with her, when she could just ask the Shogun herself?”

Throwing around the Shogun’s name like that feels like blasphemy, even to Heizou. He finds exhilaration in it.

“You wanted to know how I got close to the Kujou family. I lied, partially.” He blows out a breath. “That’s what actually brought me under her wing.”

He lets his head fall against the wall. 

(He’s given his answer, at any rate.)

A beat.

(The silence is nice, even if it’s punctuated by rain.)

“It was my first kill.”

The unexpected response (confession, it's a confession-) makes Heizou’s eyes snap right back open, and he swivels around to look at the commissioner. 

The sword is sheathed. The steel in both his voice and eyes are gone. The Commissioner sighs, and for a moment he too looks young. 

“They’d tried to poison me a couple days before. I did my first sweep of the servants since my parents had passed away with Thoma. We- we found that my sister’s caretaker was a spy.” Kamisato closes his eyes. “She tried to escape. I killed her.”

Heizou doesn’t trust himself enough to speak. You could have turned her in, he doesn’t say - because he knows too well the rage on behalf of someone he dearly loves. 

“It was Thoma’s first time hiding a body, too.” Kamisato reopens his eyes to meet his gaze, but he looks- tired. More tired than before, no trace of his tense or alert in his frame in favor of a bone-deep fatigue. “I was sixteen. I didn’t know what to do.”

Heizou remembers when he was sixteen, too. He remembers his friend bleeding out in his arms, the fireworks searing into his memory just as surely as the bloodstains that never really wash out of his hands. 

The rain keeps pouring. 

They don’t really talk to each other, even when the rain has cleared up and they have set back out again, in the air that tastes a little bit of thunder. 

So maybe that’s the only reason why Shikanoin tenses when he does. “Kamisato-”

The next second, Ayato feels it too - and he leaps out of the way, just as a dagger strikes the ground where he’d been standing. 

Every warning alarm in his body immediately goes off, and he goes on full alert, unsheathing Haran in one fluid movement as Shikanoin summons Solar Pearl. There could be more, from any angle, any place, more people and weapons to worry about-

Clang.

An agent darts in front of his face, knives poised, and Ayato parries the blade aimed for his heart, using his foot to kick the agent back as Shikanoin lets out a startled noise of surprise. 

In the next space of half a breath, three things happen at once:

Ayato, ready and calculated, rushes forward to catch the agent - still too slow, too slow, as the agent leaps out of the way. 

A pyro gunslinger shoots at where he’d been, and the only sign of it is Ayato’s hearing but it tells him that there are more, shit, there are more-

And he hears fist hit flesh, wind against thunder, and he knows that Shikanoin has engaged, but he doesn’t truly know what danger he’s in until he hears a cry of pain (too similar, too familiar-), the whoosh-bang of a firework flare in the sky, and the crackling, inhuman voice of a soldier calling “Freeze!”

It’s over in seconds.

Pulse thundering in his ears, Ayato turns around as the agent darts out of the way to stand right in front of his subordinates. 

He’s wearing a mask, but Ayato suspects the smirk behind it - because Shikanoin is there, disarmed, and there’s a blade to his throat.

Chapter Text

Heizou is going to die.

Oh archons, he’s going to die. 

(And for once, this is no part melodramaticism and all parts thought-out despair.)

Kamisato stands before them, his face entirely unreadable. Heizou still hates, in this moment, that the Commissioner has a poker face not even Heizou can read - but with a sinking surety he knows that there’s no way Kamisato will bargain for his life. 

(And a small, small part of him wonders if he wants him to bargain at all.)

“Gentlemen.” Kamisato’s voice is sickly sweet with all the false diplomatics Heizou loathes. “This truly is a flattering welcome.”

The grip of Heizou’s wrist tightens enough that it’s a wonder the bones don’t snap. Heizou bites back a scream. If he’s going to die, he’s going to do so with dignity. 

“I thought so, Commissioner.” A voice rumbles in front of him, and it takes Heizou a few moments to realize that it’s the voice of the same agent that ambushed them outside the house. “You’re a formidable individual. Formidable, indeed, in a nation so… independent.”

The way he says independent makes Heizou want to punch him. He’s not the most proud of Inazuma as it is, but he’s certainly not about to let a Fatui agent slander their name. 

Kamisato’s voice cuts through his thoughts. “What do you want?”

“Simple.” A hand stretches out. “The key.”

Kamisato’s glare hardens. “And what do I stand to gain from this?”

It hits Heizou, all at once. 

He’s stalling for time.

The patrols aren’t far. Twenty Jō is hardly far at all - but they’ve been slowed down, surely. The Fatui agent must have brought significant backup after all. 

Silently, Heizou curses himself. 

But this doesn’t make sense.  

There are cogs turning in his head - in Kamisato’s, too. How did he explain this? Did he simply decide to place the trust in his subordinates? Or…

“One question, gentleman.” The Commissioner tightens his grip on his sword. “Are you really going to let me walk out of this alive?”

The agent clicks his tongue. “Ah, I never said anything about that.”

Assassination.

By the Shogun.

The sounds of scuffles reach their ears. Heizou knows the patrols aren’t far - but they’re being delayed by forces they didn’t expect to fight. 

It’s a game of time. 

“You said it yourself.” Kamisato inclines his head, just slightly to his left - it makes him look like a predator. “Why would I decide to agree to your terms just like that, if I’m a dead man walking?”

“There are worse things than death, Kamisato.” The agent brings a hand up.

Heizou can’t help the sharp breath that escapes him as the dagger presses further. Something runs down his neck. 

But the absurdity of the choice pries a laugh from his voice, as well.

“You’ve picked a poor hostage, Fatui.” He rasps out. “I’m not his companion - merely a lowly Doushin of the Tenryou Commission. Do you truly believe me to be of use to you?”

“Merely a lowly Doushin? How odd.” The agent hums. “After all, the Commissioner himself did stop fighting, didn’t he?

Kamisato’s eyes slide over to Heizou, unreadable.

“Our Lord Harbinger believes you to be a valuable asset.” The agent turns his back to Kamisato - a show of his power, of his arrogance. Heizou’s eyes follow his every movement, wary, heart beating wildly. “The wayward Cyclone. The languid, sharp Detective. Yes… you would be a formidable addition to our ranks.”

Heizou’s mouth goes dry. “You- you want me to join you?”

“There is little that our Lord Harbinger cannot buy. He does manage our nation’s coffers, after all.” The agent chuckles, deep and throaty. “It’s an honor to be recognized by him like this. I’m offering you a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, Shikanoin Heizou. You’d be wise to take it.”

Heizou meets Kamisato’s eyes. 

There’s something unreadable in his expression, again. 

Stall for time.

The agent turns again, taking his stupefied silence for consideration. “Of course, it’s a big decision to make.”

“And- and what makes you think I would join you?”

Heizou laces his question with just enough doubt, just enough wavering confidence to make it seem he’s contemplating it. It’s a tactic he’s used enough with interrogation - people are infinitely more likely to say what you want when you appear to agree with them. 

But he is curious. 

(Sara did always say his curiosity would be his downfall.)

“You serve yourself, Shikanoin. No shame in that.” The agent walks forward again, twirling a knife in his hand. “What do you not stand to gain from our offer?”

His honor. His redemption.

Everything he’s worked towards. 

(The blood of a friend on his hands. 

The promise of a lifetime.)

He voices none of it. 

“Seems awfully counterproductive of you to be holding a knife to my throat, then, Fatui.”

The electrohammer vanguard holding the blade tightens his grip further. “Watch your words,” he hisses - but the agent chuckles.

“Of course. I do not often resort to such crass measures. But having you here, Shikanoin, your life in our hands - it serves a second purpose.”

The pounding of footsteps reaches their ears. 

Soldiers - dozens of them. 

“Halt, Fatui! You are hereby under arrest by the Tenryou Commission!”

The agent is not surprised. 

He is not surprised at all.

Heizou’s heart sinks.

They knew.

The patrols finally arrive in view - a little battered, a little bruised, but all in all in good shape. It lifts his spirits, but only a little - because Kujou Masahito sees him, and freezes. 

No.

“Not one step closer, General. Or your Detective gets it.”

Goddamn it. Fucking goddamn it.

True to his word, the patrol stops in place. The spears are up, the swords still drawn - but as ready as they are for combat, there is still a blade to Heizou’s throat, and it ties their hands behind their back. 

The agent sighs. “The key, Kamisato. There are worse things than death.”

“Do you really believe you can take me away? To torture the answer out of my mouth?”

“You have a sister.” The agent says, mildly, and Heizou is not the only one who sees the way he stiffens. “Would be a pity if something were to happen to her, would it?”

Kamisato’s gaze is still locked on him.

God, why is he still staring-

Wait.

Heizou’s gaze darts back to the agent. The agent still looks at Kamisato, at the soldiers approaching-

He’s not looking at Heizou.

None of the Fatui are looking at Heizou.

Think. Think!

They’re running out of time. The agent grows impatient, grows agitated. 

Kamisato’s hands drift to his robes. 

Kamisato is still looking at Heizou.

On three, Heizou mouths, as clearly as he can. 

He sees the moment Kamisato’s hands still, the moment his eyes shine with the barely perceptible flicker of hydro. 

A nod. “Fine.”

The agent stretches out a hand again. “Be quick.”

“Commissioner, what-”

“Don’t worry.” Kamisato’s eyes flick to the side, but only briefly- “Everything is under control.”

It’s an affirmative action if Heizou’s ever seen one.

Heizou takes a deep breath and mouths again.

One.

His hands curl into fists, behind his back. 

Kamisato’s free hand drifts further, to his side.

Two.

“Faster, Kamisato,” the agent snaps, his patience wearing thin. 

The barest hint of a smile, of a smirk that Heizou never knew he could miss. “Oh, I wasn’t talking to you.”

There’s a knife under those robes. 

Three.

It happens quickly.

Heizou twists and brings his foot up to kick the vanguard in the gut with a yell, the winds kicking up and adding more power. The vanguard stumbles, his grip loosening - and that’s all the purchase Heizou needs to twist his wrists out and punch him in the chest. 

And at the same time, two knives dart out, blades of pure hydro. 

He wonders, almost insane, at how there is no bloody smile carved across his neck - and then he sees the hand on the ground, severed clean, the blade falling out of its lifeless grip - and the other hydro blade burrowed in the vanguard’s chest, already beginning to dissipate.

Kujou Masahito snaps out of his shock.  “Go!”

Chaos erupts. 

Kamisato, eyes flashing, brings his blade up in a flash to parry the next agent’s strike - the ring of soldiers around them encloses on the barrier of Fatui gunners and boxers - and Heizou himself joins the fray from the inside - and arrows fly, elements clash, there’s flesh against armor against thunder against blaze and torrents of water pour from above, both vision-formed and natural and it’s a blur of blows that Heizou will wonder at, later. 

But at this moment, the only instinct in his body is to survive - and that’s exactly what he does.

Ayato doesn’t let himself release the tension from his shoulders until the agent is secured, bound, and dragged away, spitting curses and yelling threats.

When the agent is out of sight and earshot, Ayato allows himself to close his eyes and take one deep, grounding breath. 

“...telling you, General, I’m perfectly fine-”

“None of that. You’re going to go back to Narukami, immediately, and we’re going to take the delusion factory off your hands. Wrap this case up with Sara. Check on Andou’s family. We can take care of this.”

Ayato sighs. 

“I know… I just worry.”

“We’ll be fine. The agent’s taken care of, anyway - the Fatui will fall apart without someone to lead their ranks.”

“...Alright. Should I submit the incident report, then?”

“I’ve sent a letter to my sister. She’ll be the first to relieve you of duty once you’re done with this.”

“General-”

“This is an order, Shikanoin.”

“Fine, fine.”

Ayato allows himself a moment more of peace.

“Hey, Kamisato. Kamisato.”

Ayato’s eyes snap open. It’s good that he feels more grounded, more like himself - because there’s little that stops him from snapping at Shikanoin. “What?”

“We’re moving out. Come on.”

“Shouldn’t you be resting?”

Shikanoin rolls his eyes - infuriating as always. “What’s it to you? I came out of that with a shallow cut and a couple of bruises.”

“You're bleeding through your bandages.”

Shikanoin looks down and sees the faint red impression - a telltale sign of the bandages under it staining crimson. He winces. “So I am.”

“Go to the medic.” Ayato glances pointedly at the gathering of soldiers, where he spies one of them administering first aid. “I have a couple of things to discuss with the General, anyway.”

Indeed, Kujou Masahito is slowly making his way over to where Ayato currently stands. Shikanoin sees this too, and huffs. “Alright, I’ll go to the medic. Stay here.”

If it were two days ago, Ayato would’ve heard mistrust in that last phrase.

Shikanoin leaves without another word, and Ayato wonders at it.

“Busy, Commissioner?”

“Not at all.” He replies smoothly. 

“Then I presume you know what I’m here for.”

“Of course.” Ayato reaches into his pockets - the opposite of the one where he hid backup hydro blades - and produces an unassuming key, silver and dull. 

Kujou takes it. “Thank you.”

“Don’t worry about it.” 

“Not just for that, Commissioner.” He nods over to his soldiers. “Thank you for being his friend.”

It takes Ayato embarrassingly long for him to realize that the general is referring to Shikanoin Heizou, currently being fussed over by his fellow soldiers as he laughs sheepishly and tells them some story or another.

“...I didn’t do anything.”

“You were willing to get to know him, even when you both hated each other. You were willing to cooperate.” Kujou tilts his head - it’s nothing like how Ayato had done it only minutes before, as a deliberate intimidation tactic, but rather out of pure, simple, genuine curiosity. “Is that not reason enough?”

It hits Ayato suddenly, all at once.

“We’re- we’re not friends. But we didn’t-”

“You hid it well. To others, maybe.” Kujou allows. “But I’ve been practicing reading Shikanoin-san for years more than most. It’s not difficult, when you know the signs.”

Unconsciously, Ayato’s grip tightens on Haran again, even while it’s sheathed. “He had reason to hate me.”

“I thought so. Shikanoin-san does not hate people unnecessarily.” Kujou shifts in contemplative thought. “It made me curious. But I won’t ask, not anymore. Shikanoin-san trusts you a good deal more now than he did before, and that’s good enough for me.”

A simple man, Ayato remembers the general saying, once before. 

“And what about you?”

Ayato blinks. “What about me?”

“DId you have reason to hate him?”

Selfish, flippant, self-serving fool, his mind hisses back at him, the product of the repetition of words and reasoning so much that this pattern of thought becomes second nature to him. 

(A faint thought, a fresh memory. Shikanoin, looking the barest hint terrified at the blade at his throat - dazed with confusion when the agent gives him his offer. The faint flash of fear in Ayato’s chest - because for a moment he’d thought, he’d truly thought, that Shikanoin would agree and would join the Fatui and Inazuma would be doomed for all the knowledge he knows, all the deduction skills and sharp investigation he could put to use against them-

Shikanoin, his mind running a thousand miles per minute, looking for an escape. 

Shikanoin, mouthing - one, two, three.

Shikanoin, asking after a raid that had nothing to do with him, with only the intention to help.

Shikanoin, running himself to the bone in pursuit of truth and justice.)

“I think I did, once.” Ayato murmurs. 

Kujou’s eyes gleam with interest. “And now?”

A simple reason, for someone who’s ultimately a simple man. It’s not so strange, is it?

“I suppose not.”

Kujou turns away, but Ayato swears he can see the barest hint of a smile on that man’s face. “Then that’s good enough for me, Commissioner. Good enough for me.”

Chapter Text

There’s a patrol waiting to greet them at the border of Hanamizaka. 

“Kamisato-dono. Shikanoin-san.” The captain of the patrol bows in deference. Ayato only lets himself spare a glance and a nod - the captain is a Shuumatsuban member, but no one else needs to know that. 

Shikanoin waves it off. “Spare the formalities. We’re on a bit of a rush here.”

“Of course, of course.” The captain straightens. “Kujou-dono has requested that you meet her at Andou-san’s place of residence immediately. She has, however, also made it clear that Shikanoin-san should see a medic.”

The detective sighs. “Don’t worry about that. Kamisato-san over here has already strong-armed me into accepting some first-aid. I’ll go see a doctor immediately after we visit the witness’ house and gather more information.”

It’s only because Ayato is well-practiced in reading his spies that he sees the barest hint of surprise flicker across the captain’s face. “I see. In that case, I kindly ask that you follow me.”

Shikanoin nods. “Lead the way.”

“-don’t know if she is actually trying to fool us at this point, for how stubborn she’s being about this, and it doesn’t seem like she’s lying, Kujou-dono…” The guard with the misfortune of reporting to an extremely irate Kujou Sara averts his gaze. 

The said tengu warrior huffs out a frustrated breath. “Then there’s something we’re missing. Damn it, what are we missing?”

“Kujou-san!”

Heizou has never seen her so relieved to see him. “Doushin Shikanoin. I’m glad to see that you’re doing well.”

Despite how Heizou knows that Kujou has always been taught, even as a child, to keep her emotions to herself and never show any sign of such a terrible weakness, the sincerity of her words bleeds through, and it’s heartwarming. “Ah, you flatter me! I just so happened to overhear this conversation from a bit of a distance. Could I be of any assistance?”

Whatever relief was initially there vanishes from Kujou’s face immediately, returning to its customary scowl whenever she’s in the presence of Heizou. Which, hey. He wasn’t lying - he really is flattered that he can rile her up so much. 

But he wasn’t lying about something else, either - the fact that he could hear her and her subordinate talking from ten Jō away. It’s dangerous, especially since Andou’s house is situated right in the middle of Inazuma. If they want to keep this case under wraps at all, they have to be careful about how they’re communicating. 

Kujou realizes this too, evidently, because her next words come out significantly more in the range of conversational volume and less she-is-about-to-lose-it.

“There’s just something that we’re missing.” Kujou taps her arm in irritation, and the black feather that escapes from her back and drifts in the wind is a testament to how much pent-up frustration is building in her. “I don’t understand. She has a captain of the Tenryou Commission asking her for the truth and guaranteeing her safety. Are we disgraced?” Kujou winces, and Heizou does so along with her. “At present, yes. But the Shogun herself passed judgment, allowing me to continue acting as her hand. Is it not enough?”

Heizou blinks. 

Kamisato, beside him, appears to be at a rather loss for words. 

Kujou visibly recollects herself as she takes a deep breath, closing her eyes momentarily before opening them again. “My apologies. I have been remiss in my professionalism. Greetings, Kamisato-san.”

“No worries.” Kamisato does not return the salutation, but there isn’t malice in his words when he speaks. “It’s been a stressful time for all of us.”

Heizou frowns. “Stressful time… yeah.” He taps the side of his cheek with one finger, throwing around the words in his mind. 

Kujou narrows her eyes at him. “Shikanoin?”

“Say, Kujou. What did you ask her?”

Kujou grimaces. “Just a couple of questions about when she last saw her son. Or what he last told her. She’s stuck to the story of a business trip every time.”

“Did you tell her her son is missing?”

“Yes. I told her to keep it under wraps, as well.” Kujou trains a gaze on him again. “Where are you going with this, Shikanoin?”

“Humour me.” Heizou begins pacing, counting the thoughts in his head again. 

Sanada and Andou found the body while on a stroll together. 

Sanada disappeared right after they were found by the Tenryou patrol. 

“Kujou-san, did Andou tell you how long they stayed there before the patrol came?”

Kujou blinks once. “Less than half a minute. They were lucky that there was a patrol right in the area, just as they found it.”

Half a minute.

Hm.

“Have we considered that Sanada might have been trying to run away?”

“We considered it. But we didn’t have enough proof to back it up,” Kamisato reminds him. 

“Half a minute isn’t enough time to completely escape the notice of the patrol, given how long it takes to sneak past the unsavories on the island. I agree.” Kujou concedes. “But-”

“Wait.”

(Kamisato’s eyes flicker to him, briefly.

No one else dares to order around Kujou Sara like that - and Kujou Sara doesn’t let them.)

Andou delivered his witness statement. He was never placed under witness protection - and neither was his family, for all the resources they could not spare. 

Andou disappeared too. 

Sanada’s family was found dead in their home. 

The Fatui blade was the murder weapon. 

There’s a bronze Tenryou commission sigil that was left abandoned in a place, right where the stream’s force cannot push it further - carelessness, not intentional hiding. 

“Sanada’s file. How many years did he serve in the Tenryou Commission?”

“Six years.”

Kamisato inhales. 

Heizou’s hand clenches into a fist. “I think the Fatui killed Sanada. To silence him.” He stops pacing, but only briefly. “It would explain his family’s death, I think.”

Kujou’s breath leaves her in a surprised manner. “Then why didn’t they just kill them both when they found the body?”

“It would’ve drawn attention. It would’ve taken them too long.” Heizou’s cogs keep turning, keep searching for the puzzle pieces to put them together. “They are both good fighters. It would not have been so easy to dispatch of them - they fought one Shuumatsuban member and still had to bring the Shuumatsuban so far from their safehouse.” He racks his brain further, though, when he realizes the flaw. “But they shouldn’t have known that. For all they knew, Sanada and Andou were simply two residents on the island. They shouldn’t have…” he trails off in a mumble. 

Kamisato speaks up, then. “And it doesn’t explain the murder of the family, either. They only like to involve themselves when necessary.”

“Yeah. It doesn’t make sense. The Fatui could’ve just silenced Sanada, and moved onto Andou when he was left unsupervised. Killing the family attracts too much attention.”

“Then why?” Kujou demands. 

Silence. 

(Well, not quite. There are dusk birds in the branches above them. A cat prowls around the corner. Inazuma’s citizens bustle about, unaware of the unraveling of a plot right in the shadows behind their backs.)

Heizou brings a hand up to the side of his head, rubbing it.

He hears Kamisato shift before he speaks. “Isn’t it tradition to have the family punished for a betrayal in the Fatui?”

Heizou’s head snaps so quickly to Kamisato that he has to take a moment to reorient himself. “Family. Family punishment.” 

He snaps his fingers again. It could be - it could be the missing puzzle piece for Sanada’s case. 

(But there’s still a ridge too big, a segment that doesn’t slot perfectly. If Sanada really did betray the Fatui by sending up that flare - why did he go back? Why didn’t he go directly into witness protection?)

However, there’s something else that this definitely solves, at least - the mystery of how tight-lipped Andou’s mother is currently being.

“I think I know why she’s so keen on lying to us.”

“Yamazaki-san?” Ayato watches as Shikanoin knocks, gently. “Could you please open the door?”

The door creaks open, to Ayato’s unabashed surprise. 

Even more surprising is how the mother in question relaxes when she sees Shikanoin there. “Shikanoin-san! What can this old lady do for you today?”

“I don’t need much, though I thank you for your offer.” A practiced, relaxed smile crosses Shikanoin’s face. “I just have a couple of questions.”

Ayato sees the exact moment her expression shutters. “I- Shikanoin-san, I don’t know anything…”

“Yamazaki-san, I swear you will not be hurt if you decide to tell us the truth.” 

And then, to Ayato’s surprise, he tacks on-

“Least of all by the Tenryou Commission.”

Yamazaki’s eyes go wide. “Shikanoin-san?”

“I’m not sure what he told you, Yamazaki-san.” Shikanoin sighs. “But your son is missing, and he was not on any secret mission to Liyue, least of all on a business trip. This isn’t a test to see how tight-lipped you can be in the face of interrogation. Please. We only wish to help.”

The surprise from Kujou Sara’s end is telltale from a second feather that escapes her, that Ayato snatches out of the air before it can get too far. Kujou gives him a grateful look, clearly uncomfortable at the thought of evidence of her tengu body drifting into the hands of her enemies.

Ayato only briefly nods at her, but before long they’re both turning their attention back to Shikanoin and watching as he coaxes out the truth - the truth that they hadn’t even stopped to consider. 

“I- I didn’t doubt that, Shikanoin-san, you must understand, but-” Yamazaki purses her lips. “He made me swear that I wouldn’t endanger myself and told me that the Tenryou Commission mandated it, and I didn’t know what to do-”

“None of us blame you, Yamazaki-san, and I must make sure that you understand that.” Uncharacteristic seriousness seeps into his tone, and his choice of words clearly eases the citizen further. “We wish to help, Yamazaki-san, and we believe you may just have pertinent information to this case.”

Yamazaki nods, almost a little frantic. “Thank you, Shikanoin-san, thank you- I’m so sorry, Kujou-san, Kamisato-san.” She bows, deeply, and Ayato sees Kujou start in an aborted motion to grab the mother’s arms and straighten her up again. “I’m so very sorry-”

Kujou clears her throat. “It was no issue. We are simply glad that the misunderstandings have been cleared,” she reassures, if a little stiffly. 

“Please, come in, then.” Yamazaki straightens a little, gesturing at the inside of her home. “I’m- I’m sure we have a lot to discuss.”

Shikanoin exchanges a brief glance with Kujou. 

“Just a bit, Yamazaki-san.”

“He didn’t stay for long.” Yamazaki frets about the kitchen as they seat themselves, rushing to put together some tea. “Ah, you’ll have to forgive my lack of hospitality-”

“There’s no need for the tea.” Heizou interrupts before she can work herself up in a worry again. It’s always tricky dealing with the families of victims like this - he has to be careful. “Please, Yamazaki-san. We’ll be out of your hair in no time.”

“I can’t have that! The Shogun’s esteemed right hand and the Yashiro Commissioner in my home, not to mention you, Shikanoin-san-” Heizou colours a bit at that, and he sees Kujou’s amused glance before he schools his expression back- “-and it’s no trouble, really.” Before long, tea is set in front of them, and Yamazaki goes through what seems to be familiar motions of pouring and serving. “It’s not the highest quality, but it’s the best we have to offer…”

In courtesy, Heizou samples the tea. It’s not too notable, but it does have that warm taste of a homely tea set to it - fragrant and just the slightest bitter, enough to feel genuine and not like tea leaves that are expensive for the sake of being expensive.

“Thank you.”

It’s Kamisato who utters the words of gratitude, and Heizou is a little bit surprised - but he’s grown to become a little less and less surprised at Kamisato’s mannerisms, recently. 

“It’s no trouble, really…” Yamazaki pours one last cup for herself, but she doesn’t drink it - if anything, it’s to give her something to hold onto tightly as an outlet for her nerves. “You did have questions for me, didn’t you?”

Heizou hums in affirmation. “We just needed more details on what he said and did before leaving. Be as specific as possible, please.”

“Of course, of course…” The mother’s finger traces the rim of her tea cup. “Well, he… he really didn’t stay long - not even for dinner, even when I begged him to. He told me that everything was too urgent and classified to explain.”

“Do you remember the exact wording?” Heizou presses, just a little.

To his disappointment, Yamazaki shakes her head. “I’m sorry…”

“It’s fine.” Heizou’s assurance is a little hurried. “So did he… just come in? Did he linger by an area for a long time? Did he just come in to talk to you and leave?”

“He-” The detective sees the moment understanding dawns on her face, and Heizou hopes, hopes desperately- “He did go upstairs and said he had to pack, but - you don’t think that maybe he left something-?”

Kamisato stands immediately. Heizou almost snaps at him for the way Yamazaki flinches, if only barely. “Yamazaki-san, may we search his room?”

“Yes, yes, first room on the right upstairs, please do, I-” Yamazaki turns her pleading eyes to Kujou Sara. “Kujou-san, he’s safe, right? My son, he must be-”

Heizou does not envy Kujou, even when she begins to calm and comfort Yamazaki with practiced ease. 

He does, however, have something to attend to.

Ayato’s strides are hurried, but he only really hears his heartbeat in his ears as he goes up the stairs and opens the door to Andou’s room - where he was last, where he might have left a clue. 

It’s not amiss, at first. He hasn’t been gone long enough for the dust to start coating the shelves. The futon is neat, and his bookshelves are lined with enough tomes that it’ll make searching them a pain, but not too tedious. Pictures line the walls. Shikanoin is already moving past him to inspect them and look behind, knocking at the walls with he ear pressed against it in search of a hollow space. 

It doesn’t look suspicious. None of it does. 

Shikanoin finishes his inspection of the pictures. “None here. Come on, we’ll have to sift through the library.”

Ayato nods, already making his way to the topmost shelf as Shikanoin, in some unspoken agreement, kneels near the bottom to crack open a book. 

They’re there for a long time. 

Heizou’s gut aches again, and his knuckles are still scabbed from his tree-punching incident he had, far back when they were just traveling to Kannazuka. 

It’s the reason why a jolt of pain rushes through them, and for a moment, distracted, Heizou hisses and drops the book, spine first, onto the tatami mat under him. 

The book, heavy as it is, lands with a thud-

And sinks into the mat. 

Heizou freezes. 

“You alright?” Kamisato asks, his focus still trained on the books he inspects from the top shelves. 

Heizou says nothing. He struggles a bit, to get the book off the mat, and hears the telltale clunk of a wooden plank dropping back into its place, muffled by the woven bamboo covering it. 

Oh.

Kamisato hears it too, and he turns back, slowly, as Heizou peels back the tatami to reveal the loose floorboard in question. Heart pounding, he brings the book back as a heavy counter weight, placing it on one side of the board, and watches as the plank rises again. 

Kamisato moves to help him, kneeling down to get his fingers around the board, and as Heizou moves the book back out of the floor and onto another mat beside him, Kamisato removes the plank fully. 

The hidden compartment is dusty, though the things that are inside it are not. 

It’s why the gleam of a metal Fatui insignia is the first thing that catches Heizou’s eye.

Chapter Text

“There’s a note.” Ayato says, urgently, when Shikanoin’s fingers drift over to the insignia, his face frozen in a combination of shock, anger and grief. “Shikanoin, there’s a note.”

That gets him out of it. The detective visibly snaps back to himself - he shakes his head, blinking, and nods, even if it’s a little dazed. “Right. Right, uh-”

Ayato drops the plank he was holding and begins fishing out the rest of the items, though it isn’t much. Logs of patrol routes. The few details the spy could gather. Andou wasn’t the most high-ranking official despite his long time in the Tenryou Commission - Ayato wonders, now, if that was intentional on his part.

Shikanoin fumbles with the note a little before he can open it. In his curiosity, Ayato reads over his shoulder. 

I don’t have much time.

Whoever finds this- protect her. Protect my family. They’ll kill me but they can’t get her too. Sanada is dead. I will be. But if it’s in exchange for our families’ safety, this would be worth it.

Please.

She doesn’t know.

“She didn’t know,” Shikanoin whispers, something stuck in his throat. 

Ayato closes his eyes against the wave of regret that threatens to overtake him. 

Shikanoin’s voice is quiet. “We were right. Andou went with them because she was being threatened.”

“We’ll place Yamazaki-san under witness protection. The best that the Tenryou and the Yashiro have to offer.” 

“Will it be enough?”

That’s the damning question, isn’t it? Will it be enough? Ayato’s hand brushes over the Fatui insignia. 

Everything is clear as day, now. Sanada’s betrayal of the Fatui and subsequently going right back to them. The murder of a family on the outskirts of a sparsely populated island - a betrayal of a deal, or a debt collected, depending on who you ask. Andou’s desperation, his willingness to do the same thing, to keep his mother safe. 

How did it come to this? Were Andou and Sanada willing participants of the Fatui’s schemes near the end? Were they ever? Ayato is supposed to be the leader of the Yashiro commission, a servant of the people. How did they come to fail their senior officers this badly?

Shikanoin asked him if it will be enough.

“It already isn’t,” Ayato responds. He understands this middle ground between them. He finally understands. They have a great many differences between the two of them, but both of them would bleed dry for their nation. 

Shikanoin bows his head, clasping the note tightly in his hands, tight enough to wrinkle it. Ayato knows grief when he sees it. “We will never find their bodies.” 

“There will still be a grave for them.” Ayato is a master of ceremonies, despite and after it all. “The honor of a retired veteran of the Tenryou Commission. They fought to the end.”

“Maybe they didn’t.” Shikanoin lifts his head, and suddenly he looks far too old for his age, the same way Ayato did. “Maybe they were cowards. Maybe they had been so full of hatred for the Shogun for all that she has done to this nation, tearing it apart the way it has, and they believed that helping the Fatui would help the rest of us in turn. Maybe they were true traitors to the end, brought to heel only by the possible death of their family. Not that that helped them, anyway. Sanada’s family is dead.” Shikanoin laughs, an ugly sound. “Maybe that is what this is.”

Ayato presses his lips into a thin line. “It would be kinder.”

He knows Shikanoin is fighting a retort. He can almost hear it in his voice already: The Yashiro Commissioner, kind? What a fascinating turn of events that would be. Kindness, from the Yashiro Commissioner.

But if nothing else, they can understand each other at this moment. Through all the barbed insults they have thrown at each other in their misconceptions and their opposing positions, the kindness that they have steadfastly refused to give to each other seeps through in this moment. Shikanoin brings up the ugly hypothetical because he refuses to remember a person without knowing who they were. Ayato gives them a kinder burial anyway because he refuses to remember a person without knowing who they should have been. 

They are different, still, in these aspects. 

Ayato takes a deep breath. “You will not stop me from interrogating the Fatui member we captured.”

This is trust, and a dangerous way of presenting it. The Ayato of a couple weeks back would have never dared to say something like this to Shikanoin Heizou. Shikanoin is smart, after all. He knows that the Fatuus will die, either by “accident” in an official visit or by an assassination of revenge later on by another Shuumatsuban member. He can read the subtext just fine. 

But their deepest hurts have been laid bare now. By pure coincidence, or perhaps not at all, there is an obvious undercurrent to both of their actions - Inazuma at the priority - and Shikanoin will not stop him, because a written confession is much easier than presenting a case against this man, and others might think that he will choose not to uncover everything Ayato has done out of self-preservation, but Ayato knows now that Shikanoin’s self-preservation is astoundingly low. 

No, it will not be self-preservation that stays in Shikanoin's hand. Shikanoin gives him a nod, and Ayato feels vindication, because finally, there it is - understanding, between the two of them. 

Yamazaki’s cries can be heard from downstairs. Kujou Sara’s voice is a quiet murmur separated by doors and a flight of stairs, but it is there, and Shikanoin goes to it almost by instinct, evidence in hand. The Fatui insignia is still in Ayato’s hands, a hateful thing, and a mark of failure. It almost burns to hold, the same way his hands could never be rid of the blood from the first time he committed a murder. 

Ayato is surely not a good person. Shikanoin tries his utmost to be one, but he has his own failures, too. 

Maybe there really is common ground between the two of them, Ayato muses. For the better of the people that they are sworn to serve. 

The trial is short and the execution is swift. The Takatsukasa Clan is finally officially charged with collusion with the Fatui, and it is rumoured that the Archon herself bestows judgement. The captured Fatuus isn’t sentenced to death, but he does mysteriously die in custody later. A half-hearted investigation is launched, but Kamisato had ensured that all the information they could get out of him was noted down and stored away. No one asks many questions. Heizou would, but he’s starting to understand. 

Kamisato finds him a couple days later. Heizou barely looks up from the light novel is reading before he finds himself staring at a hefty bag of mora. “Payment. For everything.”

Heizou almost has to laugh. That is way too much. “Commissioner, I can’t claim that I am particularly good at estimating mora by pouch size, but I am quite confident that this is greatly above our usual rates.”

“It wasn’t a usual case.” Kamisato is still poised, still graceful, but Heizou can almost see all the motivations underpinning his motions now, and isn’t that a novelty. “Your wounds were severe. And… your discretion was appreciated.”

Damn. It almost sounds like an apology. 

Heizou sighs, closing his light novel. “I cannot take this, Kamisato. You may as well give it to the Tenryou Commission as help. Or for personal use.”

“It’s your payment, Shikanoin. It’s yours to do with what you will.”

“What if I just send it back to you, then? As gratitude. For all that you do.”

That stops Kamisato right in his tracks. He’s too practiced in masking it, but the fact that Heizou can even tell means that he has well and truly startled him with that one. 

His own words also sound like an apology, even to his own ears. It surprises him a little. 

For your dirty work, he doesn’t say, but it hangs in the air between them regardless. For every enemy you have routed for Inazuma at its weakest. For every crime you forced yourself to commit, all the things that none of us, bound officials and sworn to a higher morality, could ever hope to do.

He’s sure that Kamisato can hear everything loud and clear. Heizou isn’t stupid, after all. The Fatui were going after Kamisato with desperation near the end, and it wasn’t just for the key. Kamisato had become their enemy, and the Fatui do not make enemies all that eagerly, especially in weak nations full of pawns. 

Maybe it is time to find common ground.

Kamisato seems to shake himself out of whatever stupor he just found himself in, and the smile he gives him is sharp, but not cruel. “The Yashiro Commission cannot accept gifts from the people that they owe a debt to. Take it, Shikanoin. I meant what I said about helping the Tenryou Commission with the overhaul. We will work closely in the future, and separate funds will be allocated.”

For your kindness, Ayato seems to say. For refusing to give up on good when civil war took us and made sinners of us all. For chasing an honor that we have given up on, and for acting as paragon for the citizens to keep in mind, a hope for a better future for us all. 

Heizou laughs. It almost sounds friendly. “Well, if you insist.”

Is it friendship? Heizou wonders this, even as Kamisato gives a bow and leaves in a sweep of clean robes, pristine white that Heizou hasn’t seen him wear in weeks. The brief gleam of Haran shines, just enough for Heizou to see it, but it isn’t a threat anymore. Heizou’s gut still aches and he has been given strict instructions to take his medical leave very seriously, a reminder of a battle where they fought back to back and trusted each other to save their lives. 

No. This isn’t friendship. It is not so easy to reverse the years of misunderstanding, misconception, and hatred that has festered. But this is the beginning of a partnership, one that will take up the fight and lead Inazuma into a future where there is no need for either of them. 

They did not find the bodies of Andou and Sanada. The Fatuus they captured said that they must have been cremated, their ashes scattered to the wind where no one would ever find them. But there is a grave and memorial service, and the Tenryou Commission does keep its mourning drapes for a great amount of time, and they may have been cowards but Kamisato is right - it is kinder to remember that they fought for something in the end.

Heizou digs through the bag of mora left on his desk out of curiosity. It really is a hefty amount. Heizou’s sure that he could order some more merch of his favourite series with this stuff. Maybe even get the imported figures that they make in Liyue. 

And of course, because Kamisato is nothing if not cunning, his fingers eventually brush against a piece of parchment. 

It doesn’t really surprise him. Heizou pulls it out and unfolds the note, scanning the calligraphy quickly. 

Fatuus had given us a list of names. High profile, both in Yashiro and Tenryou Commission. Unsafe to talk about in office. Meet at sunset, at the Komore Teahouse.

Well, well, well. Kujou Sara did threaten to break his legs if he went running around further, but he can hardly reject a summons and a commission from the Yashiro Commissioner, can he?

Chapter Text

The Teahouse is near silent come sunset. Patrons have left, seeing the closing early sign that Thoma had hung up in preparation for his lord’s return. 

Ayaka and Ayato are engrossed in a game of chess. It is a rare moment between siblings, between all the responsibilities that both are caught up in. Ayato told them the whole story over dinner, and Ayaka had smiled into her teacup, as if knowing all along that this whole debacle would at least end in a silver lining - a new ally, if not a friend. 

When the last rays of the sun sink right below the horizon, there is a quick knock on the door. Thoma makes his way over to the expected guest, and Heizou ducks in, formalities on his tongue. Ayato moves one of his pieces and beats Ayaka soundly, as he often does, and Ayaka smiles a little more and says nothing as he rises to his feet to greet their guest. They’re already at it: arguing with each other, dismissing or disproving each other’s points and finding the truth through a long and arduous process. Impossibly, they will understand each other even better through this conflict.

Here it is, another round: another plot, another unravelling, another step to ensure Inazuma’s safety, independence and peace in the coming messy years. Sumeru has somehow found itself with a grand government overhaul and the alleged freeing of their previously imprisoned archon. Fontaine’s disaster has been avoided, and by all accounts their archon has stepped down. Natlan’s war is won, a war half a millennium in the making, and though the casualties number greatly there is a real sense of victory. 

And at the same time: Sangonomiya Kokomi sends a missive requesting a meeting about foreign relations. Liyue’s Qixing begin to reopen their trade. Ayaka’s done planning the next festival, and has wrung out a promise from Ayato that he will join, a promise that he will stand with her and they will be siblings again. 

The world is in motion, irreversibly so. Fundamental shifts in power ripple across the world, the butterfly effect visible in nearly every aspect of the people’s everyday lives. Other shifts are not so easily seen. Not so easily discovered by the people. 

Inazuma doesn’t know this, but the beginnings of a partnership between Shikanoin Heizou and Kamisato Ayato is the catalyst to the undoing of rot deep in their nation. 

Sometimes, it really is as simple as that: a fundamental shift in perspective, and the monumental effort of finding common ground - understanding and kindness, plain and simple. 

Heizou’s reply to the earlier note will go unread. It doesn’t matter. Ayato will hear it loud and clear:

I look forward to working with you.