Chapter Text
"For you, sir."
Brewing tea is a relaxing and near therapeutic part of Thoma’s morning routine. Brewing tea while having a Pyro Vision makes things harder, as the first time he’d made tea for his Lord and Lady, he was too nervous and the water too hot. The leaves were burnt and the tea bitter and unbalanced. Now, he makes every cup perfect and without flaws.
Thoma is trained to be perfect, and his work outdoes any other in Inazuma.
Cleaning? There is not a spot of dust on any of the Kamisato residence, the weeds in the garden have been selectively bred to make the best leaf shape for each season, and every room (both accessible and inaccessible to the public) is prepared for rest, meetings, and quick glances.
Cooking? All of the staff are well trained in culinary, and classes are held by Thoma. Inazuma’s food, Li-style and Yue-style cuisine, Mondstadt cooking methods, and Sumeru’s Amurta-born recipes.
But the real pride of his work was what the clan head could see.
"My lord, good morning! When I come to pick up your plates, Unagi Chazuke, I'll have some Berry Mizu Manjuu ready for you. May I be of any service?"
Ayato sighed and drank his tea, not sparing an eye for Thoma. "What’s planned for today?"
"You have a meeting with the Kanjou Commission regarding a minor dispute; an optional publicity show as Ayaka wishes to go shopping with you, some paperwork to file as Sumeru’s Kshahrewar school wants to import amethyst; and then the rest of the day is yours!"
Thoma stood silent, as Ayato chewed unagi with a look of disappointment in his eyes.
"You look horrible. I will not have the head housekeeper look like... that."
He bowed deeply, his hair curtaining over his shoulders. "Yes, sir." Thoma’s hair tie started to itch, and a feeling of dread pooling in his stomach. "My Lord, I can only offer you my deepest apologies."
Ayato had told him to change his hair last night, saying that letting it flow over his shoulders would give him a better face-outline. Though the smell of wine clung to each of his words, he was always one to follow orders.
Ayato laughed lightly, a grain of rice stuck to his bottom lip. "Make sure you look presentable, you’ll be with Ayaka shopping today. "You will change and come back to me within 4 minutes."
Thoma walked out calmly, closing the door behind him. He looked at the falling moon, and a glimmer of hope crossed his mind. Making Ayato happy in any form would be just enough. He came to his quarters, took off his shoes, and kneeled in front of his mirror. The vanity was a gift from a city acquaintance; he had used fragrant cedar wood imported directly from Mondstadt, and the mirror was imbued with elemental energy so Thoma could recoup some energy while close. It was one of the most meaningful gifts he’d received over here in Inazuma.
When Ayato caught wind of this, he was outraged. He had a silent and fear-inducing rage. He asked someone to attend his meeting and take notes for him.
"May I ask why you have such a-a frivolous relationship with the townspeople? Why would one send you something like that?" He slammed the door behind himself, throwing his hands everywhere and holding onto a wall. "Are you dating someone? I can’t-I couldn’t believe to imagine you would do that. You hardly seem the type to go chatting up... anyone!"
Thoma stood shocked like a hilichurl about to be shot through the head. "Sir, it’s a simple gift. Like the flowers I received or the..."
He stomped his foot down, raising his voice. "What flowers? What else did you receive today? Why would you get anything today? What, did you turn into Ritou’s harlot and now everyone’s paying you back?"
Ayato pointed his fingers down, and Thoma kneeled before him. Thoma's gaze was fixed on the ground, and he fought back tears.
"Tell me where everything they gave you is."
"The flowers are on the vanity, hair ties are by my bed; and the stuffed animals are in the bedside drawer. I was given new clothes, a polearm, and some mora. They're all in my closet, sir."
He threw the gifts into a pile on the floor right in front of Thoma. He didn't care about the mess he was making; all he cared about was finding everything new of his. The sound of objects being thrown around, some of which shatter or splinter.
"So?"
Thoma swallowed a lump in his throat, awaiting clarification.
"Why do you have all of this? Do you think you can just do this? I can get you anything you want; I can get you things with a snap of my fingers and these... meaningless... stupid..."He grabs the vase of flowers. "Windwheel asters? You think I’m stupid? Why in the hell would someone get these for you unless you’re planning on leaving me? You want to leave me and little Ayaka?"
Thoma’s eyes welled up in tears.
"Speak. "You aren’t allowed to say anything after you take one breath, you stop and listen after that."
"My lord, sir, today is my birthday."
Silence coated the walls, and regret laid a beautiful foundation on his Master’s face. He looked so taken aback that he recoiled at the words, taking a step back and looking at the mess he’d made.
"Clean this up, tomorrow you can wake up 30 minutes later than usual." Ayato swallowed a thick lump in his throat. "Sleep well, and do not make any excessive noise."
Thoma stepped out of his room, his hair back to normal. He looked as best he could, he stepped foot out into the kitchen to get Ayato’s next meal. Pouring a stronger cup of tea for him with extra care. He could hear the fast wrinkling of clothes, the frantically brushed hair, and the shuffling of Shuumatsuban's feet from the night shift as the other servants began to wake up and get ready for the day.
One day at a time, one step at a time, Thoma held a tray of food to deliver to Ayato’s room. Sliding the door open, his eyes laid on Ayaka, speaking with as much passion as she could muster.
"The silk shop said my order of fans is done! You should come with me to town today, we could get you a roll of fabric to make you a fan! I really really want you to find one you one hundred percent like, so we can match in time for a festival! My coming of age is soon, shouldn’t you join me before I get too old, Brother?" Ayaka’s back was to the door, she sat on the floor and held the box of her fan collection. She brushed her hair with Ayato’s brush, putting her hair up quickly.
"Oh, goodness, Ayaka, I’m afraid I can’t. There are some papers I need to finish as soon as I can, and I don’t think I can finish them all today. If you want to, I could try to fit in some time with you tomorrow for my public appearance schedule." He didn’t seem to see Thoma in the doorway, focusing his attention on his sister.
She sighed, dropping the brush and facing her body toward her brother. "This isn’t about your public appearances, and I don’t want it to be a checklist ‘to-do’ activity! I want to hang out with my brother! You seem more and more cold every day, and if a cryo-allogene can feel it there is a bigger issue than your public appearance quota! I miss my brother; I miss the brother I had before the lockdown." She played with her hair, a nervous habit that made her hair fall out too much for someone of her age.
"Little ‘Yaka, I just want to be… There are a lot of things that have caused me to become who I am. When this whole thing blows over, you’ll have your brother back, you’ll have the normal me back. What could I try to do right now to make you feel just a little better?"
She stood up, Thoma gasped as she gripped her hand tight. "I want you to stop whatever… I want you to just be nice! You haven’t even noticed how much everyone else in the clan feels!" A breeze flows through the estate, making Ayato and Thoma’s hair stand on its end. "Nobumori! The doorman to the Teahouse? He’s been off for the past few weeks because his wife had a child! You didn’t say or do anything for him! It was
me
who had to give him time off because
you
didn’t care! I’d be happy with you just visiting his first born and congratulating his family!" She froze the floor under herself, Ayato began shivering in place.
"I certainly will. Little Ayaka, I hope you can forgive me. Please, forgive me with what you can. But, listen to what I have to say."
"How about you try to repair the damage you've already done to the clan, to all of us? Every single one of the workers I speak to acts as if I’m going to go off on them at the slightest issue! Why would something like this happen to our people? Do you have anything to explain, do you hurt them or what? Why are you like this at all?" She turned to face a pale Thoma, his nose and cheeks blushed from the cold.
"A leader needs to behave like one, if I wish to be respected." He stares down his sister as her skin frosts.
"Ayato." She flings her fan in his direction, her ponytail flying as her head whips toward him. "What of the workers? How many hours did you schedule Thoma?"
"Listen to me Ayaka, that has nothing to do with what you’re speaking of today." He took a cautious step forward, his hands clasped in front of his chest, as if to protect his heart. "I can assure you that I’ve been treating them to the point they need to be worked."
She scoffs, shaking her head back and forth as she grows red from frustration. "Go take a break. Speak to me when
you
respect our people."
Ayaka bowed her head as she saw Thoma, the tea reaching room temperature. Running off to anywhere that wasn’t a cold, unloving house.
As Thoma placed the tray on the commissioner's table, nothing was said; nothing needed to be said. He bowed, a little deeper than he would normally, and walked away in search of the youngest of the clan.
Thoma walks as quietly as he can away from the doors of the main room, the fear of marking the expensive tatami rattling in his head, he brings himself to clean Ayaka’s room.
The hallmarks of a lived-in room shine, incomparable to anything Thoma’s ever seen.
Her sword collection sat by the window, some facing blade down. Her father only taught her the basics of using one, Ayato forgot to tell her how swords wear down over time, blade down.
Her bedside table had candy wrappers, a half burnt candle, and an empty glass of water. Ayaka never liked the "dumb" rule of not eating after midnight, and none of the kitchen staff were heartless enough to tell on her. Ayato took on the role of scolding her, and each time he did so, there were tears and hugs to follow.
The closet was organized just as Furuta had left it, and her clothes were pressed just as Thoma had left them. Her full-length mirror was hidden, with a towel laying on top; he wasn’t sure if he should uncover it, but he could ignore it another day.
Thoma tidies in a hurry; whatever notes he has can wait.
He goes to Koharu’s side, whispering something of an order to issue to the Shuumatsuban to search for Ayaka in civilian clothing. His silent emergency alarm rustles bushes, and wakes up a certain ninja. His polearm weighing heavy in his arm, he makes the trek to the Komore Teahouse.
Chinju’s spirits lay restless, the quiet words of the forest drowning out their long lists of sorrows, and the singing of tanuki adding to the chilling atmosphere.
"Stand your ground." Ayato finds a place to complain in silences too drawn out. "You will fight against any blade that wishes to hurt Ayaka’s blood."
His arms burn, sweat coats the stock of the Kitain Cross he was handed only hours ago. He had only trained with Mondstadt’s weapons; the change in elemental flow was too harsh on him. The body was too heavy, the blacksmith didn’t lie about that. "My lord, please give me but a-"
His knees get kicked right out from under him, he falls backward, and something in his back creaks. "Would an attacker listen to the begging of his enemy? Do you believe he would care if a member of my guard wants a break from a fight?" Ayato’s sword nicks his stomach, twisting ever so little. "If you want safety, find it in your weapon." He lifts the sword and grazes Thoma’s collarbones, a dot of blood sprouts.
"I need a break! I’ve been training for-" A yelp lets out, a quick snip of cloth and skin.
Ayato’s eyes do not move from where they were before. "Speak again, the wildflowers miss your voice."
"My lord, understand, I am only human-I am only flesh and blood!" His voice waves, and a blade settles in a hexagonal pattern on top of his stomach.
"Stand up, bleed through your clothes for all I care. Try to take this blade from my hands." Ayato goes back to his starting position.
He watches as he screams for air, the cuts burning him inside out.
Bells, bells sound in the woods. The tanuki’s voice sounds like the bells that every store has to signal someone’s come in. Church bells differ from one another in every way.
"Get up, now." He finishes his slicing, wiping his blade in the grass behind them.
Thoma finds his footing, slowly raising himself as his muscles scream, "Yes, my lord." His voice sounds so small, he winces hearing it.
"Oh dear, are you truly sore?" Ayato steps away, letting the man pick himself up. "Come here, let’s get you cleaned before everyone sees you come into the estate. I hope you don’t mind the cold too much."
After everything, after torture of training against a noble, he grabs his hand. He grabs him and leads him to the stream of water; the glowing algae in the water makes it feel like a scene from a story. Ayato cups water in his free hand, pouring it over Thoma’s lone hand.
He turns into mindless mush, the love in this moment making him forget everything. It makes him into clay. He turns into clay for his artist, letting him sit him down on a rock in the middle of the stream. A hand in the small of his back pushes him to sit upright, Ayato’s cold hands don’t bring him back to earth, so Thoma continues following whatever Ayato needs of him.
Ayato let go of his hand minutes ago, but Thoma didn’t notice from his haze. He brings the water over Thoma’s head, cleaning his hair gently, combing his hands through the gold. Whispering blessings of loyalty into his head, water is brought to Thoma’s angry blisters. Water brings itself to his tiny cuts, the tainted blood running throughout the river stream. It walks between the old scars and the ones soon to form, talk of admiration for such a man begins to flood the forest.
Thoma takes some lavender melons off a tree, eating one and sticking the other in his waistband for later. He shakes the tree to get an unripen melon, they hold more juice than ripe ones, just more sour than normal.
Ayato takes his shirt, the cotton pulling apart as blood sticks to it. The black of the fabric holds onto his skin. He directs water onto Thoma’s stomach, watching as the stubborn dried blood doesn’t wash away. The vision on his hip glows, a more centralized wave of water cleans him off. All Thoma can feel is Ayato’s steady elemental energy, it begins to grab onto his own vision. He thinks of it as Barbatos’s winds, how safe and overwhelming they are.
His lord looks upon him, like moonlight breaking the solitude of night, he grabs his creation off the pottery wheel. His fingerprints, a badge of honor, showing to the world who made him who he is. His work sculpted meticulously, errors don’t bare their ugly heads on Thoma. What begins as scattered cuts on his stomach will soon blossom into camellia flower, so that everything his art looks into himself-he knows what he is.
The Kamisato Clan’s crest is now cut into him, deep enough to scar forever. He will always be the family’s property, he will always be their servant even if death takes him away.
Thoma resurfaces, gasping for air, his body falls limp into his arms. He cries, he cries,
he cries
until he feels something again. He feels Ayato’s breath on his hands, telling him everything he wants to hear. He hears his smile, though his eyes are covered by his tears, he can hear him smile at him. His pain brings him joy, pleasure, and makes him relaxed. Seeing him ruined made him happy. He knows what he’s been brought into this world for, to make his master happy.
What is he but his loyal dog anyways.
The air is callous. Such a trivial thing can’t bother him, he brings himself to the foot of Mt. Yougou. He eats quickly, a katsu sandwich he stole from the kitchen, he gets up and walks more.
Maybe his feet no longer feel like his, as if something’s forcing him to walk into Inazuma City. Maybe his arms numb in the cold, not like it’s going to bring Ayaka safe if he tries to fix it.
Maybe he can feel Electro energy buzzing in his head all too loudly.
"Hey you! Right there! What’s your reason for being over there?" A Nobushi in red armor points his sword to him. His sudden movement making his armor scratch against itself.
Thoma turns to face them, keeping his voice calmed. "Trying to go to Ritou, I don’t mean any harm." He prepares himself to give over some mora, Nobushi turning to a life of petty thief was standard. "I can give you these melons and some mora, but I don’t have much on me."
The Nobushi look between themselves, giving a silent signal. "Go ahead, just don’t mess with the ones up ahead. Got it?" The other two go to sit, continuing with sharpening their weapons.
"Of course, goodbye." He walks away, throwing a melon over his shoulder for good measure to keep up his relations with them. He hears one of them catching it, laughing with his friends and going to wash it.
He continues on his path, his own mind boring holes into his skull. The silence begins to tire his ears, he walks on.