Chapter Text
It all started on a rainy evening in Sumeru.
It was the day before the next phase of construction on the Shouki-no-Kami vessel was set to begin. Tomorrow, he was going to be installed into the machine, slowly fusing with it until there would no longer be a point where Scaramouche ended and the new God of Wisdom began. It was everything he had ever wanted, handed to him on a silver platter, and yet he felt something suspiciously similar to fear and dread.
That’s the only reason why he let Tartaglia sleep with him. Their physical encounters were often rough and quick, focused on relieving stress and getting each other off as quickly as possible. Tartaglia consistently had those dumb puppy-dog-eyes when he asked if they could go further, or if Scaramouche would at least stay the night afterwards, but the answer was always a firm ‘no’.
Tonight was different. He let Tartaglia pin him down, mark his artificial skin, finish inside of him, and most of all — he let him stay afterwards. The surprise on his face when Scaramouche agreed to all of his inane requests was priceless, but the Eleventh had never been one to look a gift horse in the mouth. “I guess this new plan of yours has you in a good mood, eh?” Tartaglia had said with a soft laugh.
Scaramouche had laid in bed, tangled in the arms of a man that he’s pretty sure he could’ve loved if his “heart” was made of anything other than raw, destructive power. His bond with Tartaglia was inexplicable, and if anyone asked him how he felt, he’d say he despised the other man. A lie, of course — but it was only now that he was able to put words to it. An almost-love. Perhaps the closest a heartless creature like him could ever get.
Tartaglia’s snores were soft and Scaramouche felt hypnotized by the steady, calm heartbeat he could hear inside of the man’s chest. His heart didn’t beat. It hummed and pulsed with power, but that wasn’t the same as a true heartbeat. It would do, though. It was his missing piece, after all.
Obviously, Tartaglia didn’t know the extent of Dottore’s plan. He knew only what the Tsaritsa had said — that Scaramouche would be allowed to keep the Electro Gnosis as long as he cooperated with the Akademiya’s plan to aid his ascension — and not any of the gory details. He didn’t know that stepping into the core of Shouki-no-Kami was akin to suicide. With his soft heart, he certainly would’ve pleaded for Scaramouche to stop.
(Or maybe he wouldn’t have. Maybe the caring, kindhearted Tartaglia that he was picturing didn’t exist. Maybe he would follow the Tsaritsa’s plans to the end of the earth, unbothered by the loss of his former peer. Maybe Scaramouche was the only one getting attached.)
Scaramouche could sleep, if he wanted to. As unnecessary as it was, sleep was refreshing, and he would need all his energy to get through tomorrow. Dealing with Dottore, his Segments, and the Akademiya would be exhausting.
But he didn’t want to.
He wanted to savor this. He wanted to savor the sound of the rain gently tap-tap-tapping on the window, the wind brushing through the Brightwood trees, the sound of Tartaglia’s breath, the rhythm of Tartaglia’s heartbeat, everything.
Tomorrow, all of his dreams would come true.
He didn’t feel like he won.
It started on that rainy night, but he never realized the problem until three months later. Yes, it was three months, the worst three months of his life. The first, he spent under Dottore’s knife, then trapped inside the claustrophobic core of the artificial god, telling himself over and over again that this is what he wanted. The second he spent half comatose, half plotting ways to end his own life, and came out the other side having erased himself from the world. The third was spent trying to restart his life, though he had no idea how he could even begin to do that.
The Wanderer — known only to few as ‘Rei’ — was still as artificial as he was the day he was created. Yes, his body inexplicably mimicked human flesh in almost every way, but that didn’t make him any more human than he had ever been. Which meant that he shouldn’t be able to get sick. Certainly his body would, hypothetically, be capable of mimicking the symptoms of illness, but why would it?
And yet, for the past week, he found himself waking up to waves of nausea. Whenever he had made the mistake of putting anything in his stomach the day prior, he would empty it into the toilet. Whenever he hadn’t, he would still sit there retching as his body tried to find anything it could eject out of him. Rei prided himself on his resilience, but he had never been ill like this before. The sickly feeling sinking into each of his bones had absolutely flattened him, leading him to neglect his duties as the Dendro Archon’s assistant mere weeks after having the job assigned to him.
He had managed to shrug off Nahida’s concern for only so long, but it wouldn’t last forever. It was inevitable that she would sneak her way out of the Sanctuary, away from the busywork the Akademiya had left her with, and down to the small cottage by the river that Rei called home. He couldn’t avoid her forever.
“When did these symptoms start?” She placed a hand to his forehead, only able to reach him because he was laid in a crumpled heap in his bed.
“About a week ago,” he mumbled in response, closing his eyes. He knew he had no right to spurn the young Archon’s kindness, but all he wanted right now was to sleep. “Does it matter, though? It’s not like it could be an actual illness.”
Nahida grimaced and pulled her hand away. “And you’re sure I cannot ask Beelzebul? She wouldn’t remember you, so it’s not like she would know—“
“No,” Rei snapped, baring his teeth. “Don’t.”
The little Archon sighed. “Alright, I won’t. But I urge you to reconsider. The Akademiya has little information about the art of Khemia, and thus neither do I. I’m not qualified to understand your body.”
Rei shifted uncomfortably in his bed. He knew that only his creator would know what to do when it came to problems with his body, but he still didn’t want her involved. “It’s fine. Just give it your best guess.” He sat up with a groan of effort, clutching his head. “It’s not like it’ll kill me.”
“Just because it’s unlikely to kill you doesn’t mean it can’t be unpleasant or painful,” Nahida pointed out. At Rei’s unconvinced expression, she merely sighed again and shook her head. “Alright. I’ll try to check your body.”
She summoned glowing energy into her tiny hands, holding them in front of Rei’s body. She started at his chest, drifted up to his head, and then slowly moved down to his stomach. Each second that passed felt like an eternity, and Rei swore if he had a heart, he would’ve felt it stop beating at the look of alarm that suddenly flashed across her face when she passed by his stomach.
“What is it?” Panic was rising in his throat. “Spit it out, Buer.”
“Hold on,” she murmured, her expression knitting back into a look of intense focus. “Let me check again. I may have made a mistake.”
Rei didn’t dare to even breathe as she repeated the process, this time taking extra care when examining his lower torso. His mind raced with possibilities, each one worse than the last. Was it a piece of machinery that had gotten lodged in his gut when he fell? Was it some of that horrid ‘archon residue’ coagulating in his artificial intestines? Had Dottore installed some kind of wretched parasite inside his stomach as a ‘failsafe’ against him disobeying his orders?
“Rei,” Nahida’s voice was soft, “I sense a heartbeat.”
The world stopped.
“…what?”
She pulled her hands away, her expression gravely serious. “Please tell me, is… is your body capable of pregnancy?”
The scene playing out before him felt far away, like he was watching it all happen to someone else. “I — I don’t — what?” A heartbeat. He had a heartbeat. But it wasn’t his, was it? A heartbeat. A heartbeat. A heartbeat.
“From what little I know about Khemia, it’s an intelligent process.” Nahida’s tone had shifted to the one she used when explaining something complicated, one that was inexpressive and purely objective. It was something she defaulted to when she was out of her depth. “Practitioners of it design only the outline of a life-form, and the rest is filled in by what is expected of such a being. The bodies of Khemic creations seek to mimic the qualities of life exactly how they’re supposed to.”
Rei’s ears were ringing. “I… you really think that I’m…?” His mouth felt dry. He hated that it made sense. His body was capable of so many things that surely, his creator would never have thought to install within him. After all, what need would a gnosis-holding vessel have for the ability to shed tears? Or digest food? Or bleed when injured? Most of all, why would a puppet need functioning sexual organs?
And then it clicked. The last night spent in the arms of a certain man, of a fleeting love that could have been but never was. Of boundaries finally allowed to be crossed. He had let Tartaglia finish inside of him, assuming his artificial body to be barren and his womb an inert waste of space.
“Fuck,” he hissed under his breath, putting his head in his hands. Nahida climbed up to sit beside him.
“Rei…” Her voice was soft with concern. “Forgive me if I’m overstepping, you have no obligation to answer me, but…” She took in a deep breath and let it out. “The father… it’s not the Doctor, is it…?”
The question was so startling that he could’ve almost laughed, had he not been rendered completely numb. “No,” he replied quickly. He had no doubt that Dottore had gotten some kind of perverse satisfaction from his experiments, but the two of them had never been intimate in that way. ‘And thank fuck for that,’ he thought bitterly to himself. If there had been any chance he was carrying his spawn, he…
He wasn’t sure what he would do.
Nahida let out a sigh of relief. “I see.” Rei could understand her reaction. Considering all that Dottore had done to them, carrying his child would’ve had terrible implications. “Do you know who it could be, then?”
Rei didn’t answer that. His silence was enough of an answer.
“I won’t insist that you tell me,” she murmured. “If you want to keep that information private, that is alright.”
“Can’t you just dig into my brain and find out for yourself?” Rei muttered.
“I could,” she replied simply, “but I won’t. Not without your permission.”
He sat there for a few more moments, still unable to find words that felt fitting. A part of him suspected that this entire realization couldn’t be anything more than a strange dream, and suddenly he would wake up to find that none of this had ever happened. It still didn’t feel real.
“You have plenty of time to think.” Nahida’s tone was soft and free of any judgement. “Certainly, your condition is… unique, given the nature of your body. Still, if you decide you wish to end the pregnancy, I will help you find a way to—“
“I’m keeping it.”
The words hung heavy in the air. Rei’s mouth felt numb, like he wasn’t the one in control of his lips. He didn’t know where that had come from, but once the words were spoken, they became his truth. He was keeping the child.
Nahida’s eyes were wide. Rei wasn’t surprised. She seemed to flounder for a moment, genuinely caught at a loss for words, before she managed to collect herself. “I see,” she murmured. “If that’s what you wish, then I respect that.”
Rei was glad she didn’t ask him why. If she had, he wouldn’t have had a good answer. Was it guilt? Obligation? The selfish desire to be needed by someone? A refusal to let go of the last remaining evidence that, once upon a time, he had almost fallen in love? He didn’t know. All he knew is that there was something growing inside of him, something that could become a life of its own, and he already knew he would protect it with his life if necessary.
The pregnancy was going to be a long and difficult process.
His body started showing evidence of the child not long after Nahida first detected the heartbeat. The sight of it made him want to crawl out of his own skin. He had always been secure in his identity as a man, even if his body was one that could conventionally be considered female, but the constant reminder of his biology was proving to be a challenge.
Still, he would have to persevere. He had made his decision already, and refused to back down just because of this discomfort.
What was even more of a struggle was when Nahida noticed. She immediately dismissed him from his duties as her attendant, leaving him with strict instructions on how to care for himself throughout the process. This, of course, left him with nothing to do for the next six months.
It ended up being for the best. As his stomach grew, he knew he didn’t want to be seen by anyone. He was naturally slim and androgynous, so despite his masculine presentation, if anyone saw him with a distended stomach they would clearly assume he was a pregnant woman. The more visible his condition became, the less he wanted anyone to even look at him. Even Nahida’s gaze would make his skin crawl, despite the knowledge that she understood his situation completely.
Locking himself in his home prevented any further discomfort, but it left him with the unintended side-effect of being unable to escape his own thoughts.
He and Tartaglia may as well be dead to one another. Tartaglia would not — could not remember him, and Rei doubted he could ever bring himself to seek the man out again. Even if he did, how would he ever cross paths with a Harbinger? How could he ever explain his situation? As much of a fool as the man could be, there was no way he’d ever believe a story as insane as Rei’s.
So, truly, the child growing inside of him was the only remaining evidence that the two had ever known each other. The only thing that remained from that quiet, rainy night where Rei listened to a human heartbeat and felt no jealousy — only comfort.
Nahida visited him regularly, though she kept her visits brief when Rei’s discomfort became apparent. She would bring him all manner of food, citing that while he didn’t need to eat, the fetus was likely to need some kind of sustenance to survive. Rei thought it unlikely, considering he hadn’t eaten a bite of food for the entire first month of his pregnancy, but he didn’t have the energy to argue with her. Whatever she brought, he would eat.
When he felt the child kick for the first time, he cried in a way he hadn’t since he had lost everything in the fire on Tatarasuna. He sank to the ground and hugged his bulging torso, sobbing violently as he imagined the child inside. How cruel it was, to bring a child into the world with him as its sole parent. Was this all just an act of selfishness? He chose to blame the sudden surge of emotion on the pregnancy messing with his brain.
Nahida had given him a device, one based on the old Akasha terminal, in which to contact her in case anything happened. He refused to use it, even when he found himself suddenly going into labor. He refused to let anyone, regardless of how much he trusted her, see him in such a pathetic state. Instead, he crawled into the bathroom of his little cottage and gave birth alone.
The process was long and agonizing, but it was nothing compared to what he had already gone through. He grit his teeth and forced himself through the entire horrific, messy, gruesome process alone, reminding himself that the Abyss was worse, Dottore’s experiments were worse, falling out of the Shouki-no-Kami was worse, everything before now was worse—
The baby that emerged from inside of him did not cry. His entire body went ice cold as he rushed to cradle it, uncaring of the filth that stained the both of them and all of their surroundings. “No,” he breathed, desperate. “No, no no no, I can’t — I can’t do this, don’t do this to me—“
It just figured, didn’t it? That the only remaining evidence of his life before Irminsul would be dead on arrival. He must’ve done something wrong. He had been through so much pain and trauma during the early stages of his pregnancy, surely that must have doomed the baby before it even had a chance. It was just a cruel twist of fate that he didn’t miscarry, and instead had to go through the entire process just to birth a child that was—
His misery was interrupted by the sound of a soft gurgle. The baby began to cry, wriggling in his arms as if it were trying to escape. It was quiet, much quieter than a baby should be, but it was alive. His child was alive.
So there he sat, on the bathroom floor, in a puddle of blood and fluid and whatever else had erupted from his body during childbirth and he held his newborn son to his chest and cried alongside his child. He wept in relief, guilt, exhaustion, shame, and a million other micro-emotions that no language had ever put a name to.
Later, after he had found the strength to call for Nahida and enlist her help in checking the newborn’s vitals, he sat on the edge of his bed and looked at the peacefully sleeping face of his baby boy. Wisps of fiery orange hair grew from his scalp and Rei already knew when his pale skin would someday be exposed to the sun it would bloom with a pattern of freckles like the stars of the false sky above.
Rei considered many names. He considered naming the boy after Katsuragi, or after Niwa, or after so many people he had known in the early stages of his life, but he refused to do so. Rei was the only one who needed to be weighed down by the memory of ghosts.
Hayato. For a child with the wings of a falcon. As the burden of Rei’s sins dragged him down, he wanted his son to be able to fly free. He wanted this little boy to never have to feel trapped, afraid, and alone.
And in that moment, that quiet little moment with just the two of them in their tiny home, he knew he would give anything to make that happen.
…
…
…
A quiet day in Port Ormos was still chaotic by the standards of any other town. Still, it was nice to be able to walk across the docks without bumping into someone with every other step. Especially when one had a child in tow who was the perfect height to be absolutely trampled by careless idiots.
“Dad,” Hayato whined as he trailed behind Rei. “Why’s it so hot out today?”
Rei rolled his eyes. “Because it’s Sumeru. You know, the place you’ve lived in your entire life. What else did you expect?” He glanced back at his son, lagging behind him as he grasped his hand. “If you behave, maybe we can check to see if the popsicle stall has some treats left over. But only if you behave, got it?”
Hayato crossed his arms and looked away, clearly in an attempt to hide the sparkle of interest in his violet eyes. “Fine… that would make it better.” His grip on his father’s hand got a little tighter.
He let out a soft, amused sound and returned his attention to the path ahead. In the past six years, Hayato had grown to practically be a little clone of his other parent appearance-wise. But, in personality, he took after Rei almost entirely. That was to say that the boy was a little shit. Still, even through the hardest times, Rei loved that child more than anything.
Sometimes, when he looked at him and his clearly Snezhnayan features, he wondered about the life he could’ve had with the man who had fathered his child. As fulfilled as he felt in his life now, he couldn’t help the pangs of loneliness that often struck him.
“You’re spacing out again,” Hayato snapped him out of his thoughts, poking a finger into his side. “You’re gonna fall off the docks into the water, and then I’m gonna laugh at you.”
Rei scowled. “Then you’re not getting any popsicles.”
With a giggle, Hayato ducked behind him and went to grasp his other hand. His smile was absolutely mischievous. “What if I take all your mora when you’re all spacey? Then I can get my own popsicles, like a grown up would!”
“Brat,” he muttered, though the fondness in his voice was obvious enough to prompt another laugh from the little boy. “Who raised you like this?”
“Youuuuu did.”
Rei couldn’t help but let out a soft huff of laughter, tousling Hayato’s hair. “I guess I did. I wonder if I’ve still got the receipt for you, though… you think the baby store takes returns?”
Hayato squealed with more giggles. “Nope! No returns! You’re never-ever getting rid of me!”
Considering the sense of humor the young boy already had at his age, Rei was well aware he was raising a menace to society. Still, it was better this way. Nothing made him happier than seeing his son laugh at his dry comments, and he felt immense pride whenever the boy sassed other people. Most parents would be embarrassed, sure, but Rei wasn’t like most parents. He wasn’t like most people in general.
Still, Hayato seemed to be turning out alright. He had plenty of friends at school and was as sharp as a blade and shockingly mature despite his youth. He read books ravenously enough to put the Scribe to shame, and constantly asked questions in class that left even his teachers stumped. Even though his intelligence and curiosity often got him into trouble, Rei couldn’t be prouder of his son.
“Are you gonna chase bad guys today?” Hayato tilted his head to the side. “Am I finally gonna see you go all woosh-y with your vision and beat them up?”
“In your dreams, little bird.” Rei scoffed as Hayato whined in disappointment. “Aunt Nahida just wants me to watch the docks for a little bit.”
Hayato’s interest piqued again. “Oh, oh! Are there pirates? Am I gonna see pirates?”
“Maybe,” Rei lied, “but don’t get your hopes up.” The warning was pointless. Hayato was already buzzing with excitement at the idea of seeing a real-life pirate. Rei blamed those Liyuean children’s books for putting those ideas in his head. It was utterly unrealistic for a single pirate captain, no matter how strong she was, to fight an entire sea serpent on her own.
In truth, it was a Fatui ship arriving in the port today that Nahida wanted him to keep an eye on. Though it’d been over half a decade since he was involved with the Fatui, he was still more knowledgeable than most about their operations. While they had no reason to believe this ship was carrying anything other than standard cargo, the presence of Fatui guards meant that it was worth checking out.
Usually, Rei would never bring Hayato on one of his scouting missions. Not all of them ended in violence, of course, but the risk was too great to justify bringing a child into the fray. But, apparently an incident related to a swarm of fungi had rendered the classroom used for Hayato’s age group uninhabitable, meaning he was out of school for the day. It also just so happened that none of the usual babysitters were free to look after him, either.
At least this mission would likely be uneventful. He was confident in his ability to protect Hayato, but still, he didn’t want to frighten him with any close calls. The boy was still so bright-eyed and curious about the world, and Rei wanted to maintain his innocence for as long as possible.
He sat down on an empty shipping crate, ignoring the dirty look one of the dock workers gave him. They all knew him anyways, and there weren’t many places to sit in the shade. Hayato scrambled up to sit next to him, looking quite proud of himself that he managed to do it without any help.
“Sooo…” Hayato kicked his little legs around. “Now what?”
“Now we sit here and wait to see if any of the boats are suspicious.”
Hayato made a face like he’d just eaten an onikabuto. “Awww, but that’s boring!”
Rei shrugged. “Not always. Sometimes, when you watch the people in the port, you see funny things happen.”
“Like what?”
“Like one of the workers dropping a heavy crate on their foot, and then they say a lot of those bad words you’re not allowed to repeat.”
The little boy brightened. “Oh, like ‘fuck’?”
“Hayato.”
The little boy giggled mischievously, and Rei could only sigh. He had no one to blame but himself. At least he usually kept his mouth clean when around other kids. One time, he’d let a ‘shit’ slip around the Scribe’s little daughter and he’d been grounded for three days, which must’ve taught him a valuable lesson. It was only fair, considering the Scribe’s husband had yelled at Rei for hours and scolded him for letting his son say such ‘dirty words’.
Considering the heated debates the Scribe and his husband got into in the middle of the street, Rei’s pretty sure their daughter didn’t learn any swear words from Hayato.
He smiled a little at the memory. Annoyances aside, it was a funny little incident.
Once they were in the shade, the Sumerian heat became far more bearable. It was actually rather pleasant. The ocean breeze kept them both cool enough to be comfortable. Considering Hayato had no further complaints about the temperature, he must agree that the shade made things better. Still, the boy really was sensitive to the heat. It must be his Snezhnayan blood.
Only Nahida knew the truth of Hayato’s heritage. To everyone else, including the boy himself, he was known as an orphan that Rei had taken in as an infant. It was an easy ruse to pass off, considering the only trait he and his son had in common was their dark purple eyes. Sure, the color was hardly common in Teyvat, but he wasn’t the only one sporting a violet gaze. It was more than believable that the two shared no blood relation at all.
Perhaps it was wrong to lie to his son, but at the end of the day, he was sure that it wouldn’t matter. Hayato was Rei’s son either way, and the boy knew that he was loved unconditionally. The truth wouldn’t change that, and neither did the lie. It was better this way.
A ship slowly rolled into the harbor, innocuous to the usual onlooker but obvious to Rei’s trained gaze. Sure, it wasn’t sporting Fatui insignias in every possible direction, but he knew what a Snezhnayan ship looked like. “Hey,” he whispered to his son, “doesn’t that boat there look weird? Let me know if you notice anything. Could be pirates.”
No response. Rei’s stomach dropped like a ball of lead. He quickly turned to look at the crate beside him and confirmed his fears.
Hayato had disappeared.
Activity in the port was picking up at this time of day, which felt like a targeted attack from the universe to make Rei’s life as hard as possible. He rushed up and down the bustling streets, completely disregarding anyone’s personal space or the job he was sent here to do. Nahida would understand, surely.
“Hayato?” He called out, his voice unintentionally rising with panic. “Hayato!”
There was no sign of the boy. Usually, his flame-colored hair would make him stand out like a sore thumb, but Rei couldn’t catch a single flash of the familiar color among the gathering crowds. Everyone was too tall for such a small child to be seen. Cursing under his breath, Rei pushed his way to a clearing in the crowds and took to the air with his Vision, uncaring about the attention the act would attract.
He could feel hundreds of eyes on him as he flew overhead, but he disregarded them. His son was more important than keeping a low profile. If the Fatui got wind of a strange Vision-user flying about Port Ormos, then so be it.
“Hayato!” He called out again, swerving onto a side street. The crowds thinned here, allowing him to safely land. He adjusted his hat and pushed forward, ignoring every attempt from the merchants to get his attention.
Panic was gripping him so tightly he felt like he was going to be sick. Hayato had never been the type to wander off, but he still should’ve been more careful. Kids will be kids, wandering off is just something they do. He shouldn’t have taken his eyes off of Hayato. Hell, he shouldn’t have brought him here at all. Sure, he didn’t have any other options at the time, but he should’ve figured something out.
His mind supplied images of a tiny body curled up in a pile of wilting flower petals, and suddenly it felt a bit harder to breathe.
Just as he was about to call out the boy’s name again, a familiar whimper reached his ears. He pivoted quickly and rushed towards it, jumping over a merchant’s cart along the way without a care given to the shouting that followed him.
He knew the general direction that the sound had come from, but in the bustle of the port city, he still had to track down its exact source. He strained his ears to listen again, hoping to hear anything over the mindless, annoying chatter of the crowd.
“M-My dad is gonna be so mad at me,” the familiar voice came again, the words spoken between hiccuping sobs. “Now we’re — hic — never gonna get popsicles…”
Rei hurried towards the voice, but was frozen in his tracks by what he saw and heard.
“I’m sure he’s just gonna be happy to see you safe,” a different voice replied, its tone soft and comforting. “If you’re really good and say you’re sorry for wandering off, maybe he’ll let me get you some popsicles. How does that sound?”
Hayato was sitting on a wooden barrel, wiping tears away from his blotchy red face as he cried, and standing next to him was his spitting image, a perfect mirror of what the boy would surely look like as an adult. Those same glassy blue eyes suddenly locked onto Rei’s and the Sumerian heat disappeared and was replaced by the biting cold of a blizzard.
“—oh! You said he had a big hat, right? Is that him right there?” Tartaglia put a comforting hand on the kid’s shoulder, pointing at Rei.
Hayato turned, and upon recognizing his father, he jumped off of the barrel and rushed over to Rei. He wrapped his arms around his waist and cried into his stomach, smearing tears all over his shirt. “Dad!” Hayato sobbed. “Dad, I’m so sorry, I just — I just wanted to look around a little and then — and then all these people showed up and…” His words deteriorated into babbling sobs as Rei gently stroked his hair.
He managed to tear his gaze away from his son and back at the man who had found him. Tartaglia had taken a few steps forward and was eyeing Rei quizzically, tilting his head to the side. Rei couldn’t help but be struck by how little the man had changed. Even after six years, he still had this undeniably youthful, boyish quality to him, as if he hadn’t — and would never — age past his mid-twenties.
(Dottore had once said that Tartaglia’s body would age slowly due to his exposure to the Abyss. It seemed that was true. How sad — the man was definitely too soft for the pain of longevity.)
“Wow, you two look nothing alike,” Tartaglia commented, having no filter as always.
Rei stammered for a moment before firmly swallowing, forcing himself to hold together. “He’s adopted,” he replied flatly. “How did you find him?”
Tartaglia chuckled sheepishly. “Ah, sorry. I put my foot in my mouth there, didn’t I?” He grinned, the same crooked smile that used to inexplicably warm the empty space in Rei’s chest. “But I just found him wandering around and could tell he was scared and lost. I couldn’t just leave the poor little guy to fend for himself, could I?”
Hayato picked his head up from his father’s stomach and turned to glare at Tartaglia. “Hey,” he protested with a teary-eyed pout, “I’m not a ‘poor little guy’… I’m super smart and tough. I could’a beaten you up if I wanted to…”
“Hah, of course, of course. You had it all perfectly handled. I just helped out ‘cause I’m a nice guy.” Tartaglia’s words failed to convince Hayato, but he didn’t have the energy to bicker anymore. He adjusted himself to stand at Rei’s side and press into him to hide his messy, tear-stained face.
When Rei looked back up, Tartaglia was a bit closer, and that curious expression of his had returned. “Hey, can I ask you a weird question?”
Rei narrowed his eyes. “…depends. What is it?”
“Have we met before?”