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Kites are not Inazuma’s specialty.
Ayato grew up with enough cultural influence that he was already deemed fit to be the head of the Yashiro Commission at an age younger than the rest—there’s wit and resourcefulness and tenacity to not let older officials spit on your face and stab you on the back to consider, but.
At the age of five, he had read of festivals an ample amount that he could list down the materials needed and the right order of celebration without looking at the source material; no matter that several complicated characters like interval, which he often mistakes as initiate, seemed to exist only to confuse him. At the age of eleven, with sleeves that did not quite fit his growing figure yet, he spearheaded his first festival. The streets of Inazuma were filled with colors in every corner; streamers tall enough to rival Statues of the Seven littered up to the farthest road of Narukami Island and children around Ayato’s age wore yukatas with the vividest patterns. He was the one behind the structuring and the logistics, with the Commission and the Clan at his beck and call—his taste of leadership over the people that have seen him grow. Even when he turned nineteen, a few years after claiming the seat of the Kamisato Clan head, he still remembers how hard he prayed for rain not to fall on the first day.
With his face now more chiseled and his figure more sturdy, he continues the tradition of waking up earlier than most and offering the same prayer for the rain to come visit their nation some other festival, where rain means auspiciousness and not the tears of a deity. His wishes are always heard. It makes the experience under his eyes weigh less than usual. He and Ayaka find ways to make themselves merry and buy the most colorful knick-knacks and clothing home—only after writing their wishes, of course. A festival not followed down to the most minute details is not a complete one to him.
From where he stands at this very moment, Liyue is no different than Ayato’s first organized festival. It’s not home away from home—(There’s a familiar figure donning a familiar attire with his familiar side ponytail, and)—maybe not yet.
The sun undeniably stings his face and the wind breezing over the sea doesn’t make it any better. His hair is barely looking as decent as how he left Inazuma—alone, despite Thoma worrying and Ayaka mumbling about how she’s always wanted to see the festival for herself—and Ayato can only lick his lips. Departure from the land where he has always been loyal to is never purely for dilly-dallying, but when he sees the familiar figure laugh while leaning against a crate, he knows this time there’s a difference between this and his other visits.
(Visit the Lady Tianquan, wish her and the rest of Liyue luck and prosperity, build a connection. But also—)
The ship docks and Ayato shuffles behind a mother ushering her overly excited son to behave. There’s a smile in Ayato’s eyes as he waits for his turn to get down, a distant memory of his mother refusing to let go of his hand even when he insisted.
“I think,” Ayato hears the moment he steps foot in Liyue. The bustling crowd is barely foreign, but he still walks with a cadence of a man who has all the time in the world as he takes the entire scenery in. “I’m goin’ to add the bass rift I told ya and Captain about—the other day!” Her accent is distinct, but Ayato catches what she’s saying. She imitates playing a guitar—despite having one slung on her back—throwing her head back and forth as her fingers deftly move in the air. Ayato is colored impressed and dares not to interrupt her private show. “It gives off that extra flavor, if ya understand?”
“I do,” And Ayato tries not to hold his breath the same way the kid from the ship did when his mother handed him a kite the moment he responded. Even in the busy docks, Kazuha’s voice stands out, a serene origami crane that has not lost its elegance despite the uneven folds and grime. “I like the song with its addition, as well.”
“Aw, ya have such great ears, Kazuha!” Ayato supposes this is the Xinyan Kazuha has mentioned to him a few times before, with the eye-catching ponytail and equally striking smile. “Ya weren’t kidding when ya said that thing about hearing well, huh? Maybe I could turn that into a song someday!”
Kazuha huffs with a small smile on his face. If Ayato were less of a man—and if all those years of integrating poise and etiquette into his person amounted to nothing—he would have already collapsed by the sea. The wind caresses his hair with gentleness that has not been offered to Ayato while he was desperately trying to let his hair stay down while on the ship. “That’s not what I meant when I said that, but I would nevertheless feel honored if somehow I ended up in one of your songs, Xinyan.”
“Bet!” Xinyan smiles. Just when Ayato thinks he has put enough distance between him and their conversation, she turns her head at him and widens her eyes in—recognition that he never expected from her. She turns her head back to Kazuha who—is now also looking at Ayato as he pushes himself off the crate, and the smile on his face widens in an instant. The sun hisses against Ayato’s nape and his face starts to burn. “Oh! I, uh, remember telling Yun Jin we’re spending time together today, so I—well, ya know. Need to go!”
Kazuha turns back to her, waving goodbye as she adjusts the straps of her instrument. Ayato takes this as his cue to come closer. “Tell her about the addition you decided to keep. I wish you both luck and prosperity this Lantern Rite.”
Xinyan waves, her back facing them as she dashes off. “You too! Both of you!”
Ayato waves back, two simple ones, before coming face to face with Kazuha. The smile on Kazuha’s face does not waver nor disappear.
“Hello,” Kazuha tucks a few strands of his hair behind his ear. “Happy Lantern Rite.”
“Happy Lantern Rite to you, too.” Ayato nods. The wind blows Kazuha’s strand away from his ear. It seems odd to ask someone this; the very someone who Ayato has waited to return to Inazuma safe and sound for long, grueling years, but—“Have you been waiting long?”
Kazuha shakes his head. He gestures vaguely to the general space and nods at the direction where Xinyan disappeared just earlier. “Being part of The Crux has made me accustomed to ship arrivals.” They start to walk, with Kazuha a step before and Ayato’s palms sweating in his gloves. “If anything, I should ask you if you were standing there long enough?”
It’s Ayato’s turn to huff. He catches a crowded restaurant in the distance—if he read the characters right, this must be the infamous Wanmin Restaurant—and barely shrugs. “I doubt you genuinely do not know the answer to your own question.”
Kazuha glances at him. If he has recently learned to let sunlight perfectly reflect against his eyes to present people a beautiful and remarkable shade of red, Ayato would not put it past him. Kazuha is a man of many talents and insurmountable charm. “Perhaps, but perhaps I also want to hear the answer straight from your mouth.”
Ayato’s gloves cling in the crevices of his hands, tight and humid. He licks his lips to make up for how parched he is on the inside.
“Apologies for delaying your lunch, I need to drop by somewhere.”
Before Ayato can respond, Kazuha turns his head and waves at someone from the restaurant. Chef Mao Xiangling, then, if the apron were to say enough. “Busy day as usual.”
“Kazuha!” Insurmountable charm indeed. Kaedehara Kazuha will be a household name right under their noses in no time. “Sorry again that we couldn’t get you a table!”
She yells back in the kitchen before hastily wiping her hands on her apron to meet them. She ushers them to the side, just by the food stall with just as hungry customers, and smiles. “Do you want any dish? Just name it, and I’ll provide!”
A bear, around the height of her thighs, makes garbled tunes as it tugs on the end of her apron. Kazuha looks at it like this is a daily occurrence, so Ayato can only quirk up an eyebrow. “Oh, nevermind, Guoba just let me know that we’re out of fish as of the moment, so no Grilled Tiger Fish for you this time! Sorry again!” Xiangling presses her hands together and bows. “Anything but fish, then?”
Kazuha laughs. The varied noises of Lantern Rite do not hold a candle to how it entrances Ayato so easily. “No, no. No worries on that front. Beidou just asked me to let you know that you can come with us when we depart next week, if you’re still free.”
“Oh!” Xiangling’s pressed hands immediately clap, and her and her bear—Guoba, Ayato repeats it in his head again and again to get the accent just right—bounce on their feet. “Of course I am! I told my Dad already—Ah! I hope I’m not imposing!”
“Hardly,” Kazuha quickly reassures, waving his hand to dismiss her worries. “You’re helping the crew with our meals. I’ll take you up on the offer of making me anything once you’re aboard, then?”
Xiangling laughs, hitting Kazuha’s arm as she does. “Good to see you breaking out of that shy guy shell!”
Kazuha laughs again. “I doubt I was ever shy, but I’ll take the compliment. Just be there before our usual departure time, if that’s alright?”
“Of course! Guoba and I will see you!”
They part after a few more pleasantries, no longer than the time needed to brew tea, bouncing with vigor that Ayato sees from Inazuman kids on the streets. Kazuha gestures for him to follow him again. “I hope I didn’t make you wait for too long.”
Ayato barely constitutes standing a few steps behind Kazuha as waiting; he was busy letting his eyes roam on the rest of the streets and establishments and figuring out the intricacies of certain toys and decorations. The existence of different cultures will always hold a warm and fond spot in his heart, and it would still be present even if he did not have his ancestry and clan handed down to him the moment he was born. “Not at all. She’s an interesting character with,” Ayato hums, remembering Miss Xiangling’s idea of adding Whopperflower extract to one of their dishes that needs, and he quotes, an extra boom shaka-laka. “Equally interesting ideas.”
(If anything, waiting for Ayato is the number of years praying that Kazuha is safe, no matter where he may be when Inazuma was still a world away from the rest of the world.)
They narrowly walk around a small pond—Kazuha mimics flicking a coin as if making a wish on a fountain. Ayato’s eyes never leave him, even when Kazuha glances at him again. “I assumed you were busy enough observing Liyue Harbor while waiting.”
A good look at everything Ayato has done so far for Kazuha would be enough to conclude that he is never busy enough when it comes to him. Not even his first handmade lantern at eleven—with shapes of bold outlines and flowers of the brightest colors—could take away his attention from—his object of affection. His object of affection, with his hands swaying gracefully despite the calluses due to everything he has wielded and experienced. Kazuha would excel in making kites. He has always been gentle.
“It’s not a novel thing in my line of,” Ayato hums, thinking of a word while eyeing a slightly crowded stall selling the shiniest stones. A few of them share the color of Ayaka’s eyes. “Duty, service,” He vaguely waves his hand as he slowly turns his head to Kazuha, who is already looking back at him for the second time. “To let my other senses go idle while I’m using one of them. I assume you work similarly.”
Kazuha smiles, accompanied by a short chuckle. How he manages to be the loudest to Ayato’s ears despite the busy harbor is—is not beyond Ayato, not anymore, but some things are better experienced than analyzed. There is no completely rational reason as to why Ayato is in Liyue when he has documents to review and affix his signature on back in Inazuma. Ayato simply is.
(There is the argument that he can never be caught just idling about; he has to visit the Lady Tianquan, wish her and the rest of Liyue luck and prosperity for the years to come, and build a connection enough for them to send each other letters. But she is not Kazuha, so she does not come first.)
“I suppose you’re right,” Kazuha huffs. “I hope you don’t think I am underestimating you.”
It’s Ayato’s turn to huff. It’s a heartbeat longer than Kazuha’s, but more subtle. It tells enough about him. “Unless you give me an actual reason to think otherwise, you never underestimate anybody.”
“Even when I extended an invitation for Lantern Rite to the Yashiro Commissioner, who has better things to do?” Kazuha catches a stray leaf and rubs the petiole with his finger and thumb. Ayato is transfixed at how the leaf twirls. “Or should that be considered me overestimating myself as a priority?”
“You know that cannot be true,” Ayato’s response is hasty, but he does not—can not; Kazuha holds enough power to control what Ayato can and cannot do sometimes—find it in himself to bite his tongue right after. He sees what seems to be the thirtieth toy stall out of a hundred more as they are about to cross a short bridge. “Every visitor has their own agenda. In my case, it is most definitely not because you overestimated yourself.”
“Right, right.” Kazuha has a small smirk on his lips as he sets the leaf free. Ayato is now transfixed on his face. The sun kisses his skin in a way that brightens his face—Ayato is not a poet. He decides to count the new freckles all over his face and neck instead. “But I hope you’re enjoying Liyue so far.”
“I am.” It is another hasty response from Ayato. “Lantern Rite brings out the life and colors in Liyuens.”
“You should see the festival at night,” Kazuha glances at him, running his hand on the bridge’s railing as they walk. “This is another invitation from yours truly.”
Ayato balls his hands into fists, no longer caring of his sweat. He increases the pace of his steps until he no longer walks behind Kazuha. He does not tear his eyes off of him the entire time. “I assumed that was already part of the initial extended invitation.”
Kazuha smiles. It is wide and warm and the sun can no longer hold a candle against it. All Ayato remembers are the five meter-tall tanabatas back in Inazuma, a myriad of colors that inspire hope and harmony. “Just making sure your other plans do not coincide with my suggestion to watch the lanterns and the kites later, as part of this date.”
Ayato does not trip over nothing. He cannot—he is a better man, a man born with grace and learned to wield it like his own blade while mastering the strokes for interval and to initiate. But he does hold his breath and pause in his tracks to collect himself. Kazuha continues, like he did not tilt Ayato’s world then and there with his bare, gentle hands, which, well. Kazuha was transparent in his invitation, and he did explicitly write the word date. Ayato rode to Liyue on the earliest schedule possible, with his face burnt and his hair slightly frizzed by the sea air mostly because of that.
But still.
“It’s no Wanmin Restaurant, but Liuli Pavillion should be the best dining spot when it comes to Li-style cuisine,” Ayato is reeled back to Liyue Harbor, not so different from a kite. He is walking a step behind Kazuha again, always following. (Always chasing.) “Some desire a break from the seafood-centered dishes, so they seek the freshness of mountain herbs and clear springs.”
Ayato hums. From a distance, he sees quite a crowd by what seems to be the most renowned restaurants—Wanmin Restaurant aside—and he has no reason to doubt Kazuha. Not that he ever has before. “I trust your tastes.”
Kazuha turns his head at him enough to see most of his expression and—he’s smirking, and there is a glint in his eyes that spells out mischievousness. It’s been years since Ayato saw him in his oversized kimono, but he’s young nevertheless, and it shows more when he’s like this. “You should. I don’t make it a habit to invite Commissioners over with no consideration of my standards.”
Ayato knows he has not recovered from Kazuha explicitly saying the word date from earlier when he did not immediately register his words. When he finally does, it must show on his face, because Kazuha turns away to cover his mouth with a fist while laughing. His shoulders are hunched and shaking, taking all his time in the world. Despite his eye twitching, Ayato never rushes him. (He never does, never would.)
“Well.” And that’s all Ayato can say on the matter. It makes Kazuha laugh some more, a laugh as light as the person laughing. It is but a temporary reprieve from the crowd surrounding Liuli Pavilion and Xinyue Kiosk, more suffocating now that Ayato and Kazuha are standing only a few steps away.
“Lets,” Kazuha huffs as he fixes his ponytail, catching his breath as he eyes the crowd. “Let’s go. I made a reservation five months ago. Liyuens and foreigners alike are… enthusiastic when it comes to Li and Yue cuisines.”
If Ayato did the math right—which he almost always does, because he had to be above average with matters not only involving festivities as much as possible, of course—Kazuha made the reservation roughly a month before extending his invitation. It is not so much as a trap as it is simply an invitation Kazuha has been planning to make. Kazuha has been planning to spend Lantern Rite with Ayato since five months ago. Probably even earlier.
His world spins and he’s not sure if it’s because of the delay of his lunch schedule. Not only is there a certain beauty to kites connected by their respective strings, he also sees the practicality of being grounded while staying from a distance. Ayato is not so much granted that when all he sees is Kazuha flashing him a smile. The ground seems as brittle as the washi paper Ayato kept ripping apart when he was still trying to make his first few lanterns.
They’re seated by a window that overlooks a good percentage of Liyue Harbor, where life is arguably most evident. The juxtaposition of several kites already flown and the numerous ships docking and leaving is enough to describe how Liyue is faring even after their archon’s death. It’s enough to inspire him even when Inazuma’s nearest festival is not until six months from now.
“Is the table okay?” Kazuha reels him back, his lips familiarly quirked up in his usual smile. The sun barely highlights his features like this, framing the tips of his fringes and leaving but the slightest touch on his nose. He’s tanner compared to the last time Ayato saw him and his freckles are more evident. Ayato can’t not count them. “I made sure we’re seated by the corner.”
“Why so?” Ayato smiles, letting his eyes unabashedly roam all over Kazuha’s face. He’s at freckle number eight now. “Is this your favorite area?”
Kazuha smiles wider, licking his lips. Ayato immediately loses count and starts counting all over again. “It is, but also, I know you don’t bode well with crowds and small talk, especially when you’re unfamiliar with the place.”
Their eyes meet. The wind blows Kazuha’s hair so lightly and naturally, like he’s always been one with it. With his nature, it might not be far-fetched. Ayato licks his lips as he gathers every bit of his strength. “I appreciate it.”
Kazuha chuckles, raising his shoulders for a second before relaxing again. “And I love my view,” He says, never breaking eye contact. “The seas of Fontaine do not hold a candle to the shade of your eyes.”
Ayato is—not dense, not so much by any means. With a darling sister like Ayaka, who grew up overflowing with praises, he did not fall behind. The sharper edges of his eyes emphasize how Ayaka’s eyes are round and bright. Ayaka holds her posture like a crane, elegant and majestic, while Ayato holds his shoulders like a sturdy tree the people of Inazuma can lean on, should they wish to.
Like this, however, Kazuha is unraveling him, letting the line of a kite out. He’s seen Thoma and a few fishermen cast their bait with little to no effort, and Kazuha mimics them with a gentle smile on his face, all while sitting. While Ayato prefers being the one to craft the bait and fish out the detrimental schemes older officials dare attempt from time to time, this time he is the fish, and—well, it’s Kazuha. Ayato does not hold so much power on or against him.
“... Always the charmer, you.” Ayato simply says. Kazuha laughs, leaning back.
“Are you going to fly a kite later?” If Ayato remembers the schedule, today is Lantern Rite’s official last day—the locals celebrate for around three more days after as they clean up the traces they’ve left behind—and coincidentally when the kite-flying competition is held. Ayato will be holding an audience with the Lady Tianquan tomorrow.
“Yes…” Kazuha clamps his mouth shut, scratching his cheek with a finger. “I know I just mentioned that I am aware of your aversion to crowded places, but I need to get the kite materials after our lunch—” The dishes are served coincidentally, and Kazuha bows and thanks them before continuing. “If you don’t mind.”
Ayato has never minded. Not even thirteen, fourteen years ago. “Of course not.”
Kazuha flashes him a smile, wide enough that his eyes smile along him, as he pulls his chopsticks apart. “You’re indulging me.”
Ayato mirrors his action, but his smile is more subdued. He’s not exactly as bright as Kazuha. “Perhaps.”
“Well.” It’s Kazuha’s turn to huff and let his blush take over his face. Ayato smiles a little wider, even when Kazuha’s eyes are already on their food. “I hope the food is to your liking.”
Liyue cuisine puts emphasis on seasoning more than Inazuma cuisine does; they have perfected the balance of savory dishes while maintaining the freshness of several mountain ingredients and delicacies. Ayato feels the cool breeze of an early morning when he tastes the wok-fried vegetarian dish, and tastes a clear spring located near a mountain peak when he chews on ham and matsutake.
Kazuha hums, content evident on his face. “That dish has Violetgrass, which can mostly be found on cliff sides. If I remember correctly, Dr. Baizhu has used it in medication before.” He takes a slice of ham from another dish and chews, letting a low hum after swallowing. “This dish has less floral influence compared to Stone Harbor Delicacies, but this has Snapdragon in it. These,” He picks up a stray peach-colored petal with his chopsticks. “Can usually be found around Mondstadt’s bodies of waters. They’re soft and cool to the touch.”
Kazuha’s eyes are focused on each dish and ingredient, talking as if he was weaving poetry out of thin air. There is—so much, in Ayato’s chest, warm and expanding and nearly as fulfilling as their lunch. He wants to grab, and take, and hold it close, and—
He does not do any of that, and instead says, “You really love Liyue.”
Kazuha looks at him while in the middle of chewing. The blush on his cheeks is faint, but it is as vivid as the tanabatas back home to Ayato. “I do. I’ve grown accustomed to living here the most out of every other nation. It’s,” Kazuha bites his lip. He sets down his chopsticks temporarily, wiping the grease off the corners of his lips. Ayato would have done that for him, if Kazuha let him. “It may be a bit presumptuous of me to say that this is, hm, home away from home,” Ayato huffs at the air quotes Kazuha made. “And that wouldn’t exactly be the sentiment I want to convey. To me, Liyue is just as warm as perching on a rock that is perfectly under the shade of a tall tree.”
Ayato hums, the tips of his chopsticks barely in between his teeth. He sets them down, but does not let go of them. (Ayato has always had a problem letting go. It’s even more of a problem when Kazuha is involved in any capacity.) “I understand.”
“Do you really?” Kazuha’s eyes are smiling again. His slightly tilted head makes Ayato huff again. Ayato wants to reach out and tuck his stray hair strands behind his ears.
“Perhaps not to a complete extent.” Ayato nods. He takes a few noodles and places them in his plate. Longevity and good health. Ayato will meet with Lady Ningguang tomorrow, he’ll wish Liyue another prosperous year to come, and—Kazuha is mostly in Liyue. He’ll be included in Ayato’s wishes. Good health and a long life. “But Inazuma was not exactly an ideal place to live for you before, so Liyue is warmer, in comparison.”
Kazuha nods. He picks up his chopsticks again and serves himself noodles as well, making sure to get the ones closest to where Ayato was poking and prodding his chopsticks just now. Kazuha is looking at him as he picks up the noodles, his fingers dexterous and stable. It’s not so much an intimate act as—what happened between them more than half a year ago, but Ayato blushes despite himself. “Even when a thunderstorm is present, Liyue feels warm.”
There’s an implication there that would nag sooner or later within Ayato, but he chooses to focus on how smooth the noodles glide down his throat. Kazuha is back to humming after chewing and swallowing his food. “I did find myself enjoying Fontaine the two weeks we were there, though.”
“I’ve heard that it’s easier to explore underwater when you’re in Fontaine,” Ayato is not the paragon of small talk, but if Kazuha is exerting effort to make him comfortable, he can meet him halfway. Small talk does not register as such in Ayato’s head when he’s engaging in it with Kazuha. “And their underwater flowers are plump?”
“Oh, yes,” Kazuha sighs, recalling his recent trip as he looks out the window. Ayato follows his gaze until they end up looking at what seems to be a dragon dancer practicing the head’s moves without the dragon’s body. “Romaritime flowers have such an elegant blue color, and it reminds me of—” Kazuha glances back at him, letting his eyes rake through Ayato from head to bust. He smiles at Ayato when their eyes meet, as if holding a secret that Ayato isn’t privy to. He exhales through his nose as he looks out again. “—Well, they have a hint of purple to them as well. It requires you to pay attention to them. It’s petals are elastic and cool to the touch—actually, have you heard of xenochromatic animals?”
After Ayato shakes his head, Kazuha is back to explaining everything like they’re wonders of the world. He knows better than to describe Kazuha as anything but childish; he’s ethereal, out of touch, even when they’re only separated by a table—(and lands of experience, and seas of emotions)—and there is nowhere else where Ayato would rather be.
Alongside reminiscing about his travels, Kazuha places various ingredients on Ayato’s plate like it’s second nature to him. Ayato does not eat much—whatever his people serve, he eats, and they do not make it a habit to feed him beyond two plates—but he finds himself picking up everything Kazuha puts down.
His eyes do not stray once from Kazuha.
Ayato finds himself more full than he intended to be, and Kazuha pays for their lunch before Ayato could even grab his pouch.
“You should have let me,” Ayato huffs, pathetically holding his pouch that matches the rest of his outfit. Ayaka and Thoma enjoy humbling him down in any way. “As thanks for the fulfilling meal.”
“But I don’t want you to,” Kazuha huffs back. He already pockets his own pouch, smiling and thanking the employees. They’re exiting Liuli Pavilion when Ayato hears Kazuha mumble something about least I can do and after everything you’ve done. Before Ayato can ask him to repeat what he just said, Kazuha turns to him and smiles. “Let’s get my kite materials?”
Ayato mutely nods. Kazuha gestures for him to follow him, and Ayato can only nod again.
Hook, line, sinker; let go of the bridle, let out some line, reel it in. Ayato is but a tail trailing behind a majestic kite.
Once they descend the long and wide steps, Liyue Harbor’s life hits Ayato square in the face. Children are running around, either playing tag or desperately trying to catch enough momentum to let their kites fly. Jades and jewelry are sold left and right as much as street foods are. There are kite imagery everywhere—from the keel to the bridle to the various tail colors and shapes. They flank to the left, now closer to the sounds of waves crashing against cement and ships announcing their arrivals and departures. Warmth permeates the harbor—less due to the sun and more because of the joy the festivities bring—and Ayato does not so much mind the sweat in between the crevices of his hands.
It’s not exactly a home away from home, but he understands the sentiment and basks in everything Lantern Rite stands for.
(And Kazuha is there, an arm’s length away. Ayato can reach—)
“Miss Zhenyuan,” Kazuha greets. He waves at the kite seller just as they pass by a Snezhnayan merchant’s stall. She waves back, a wide smile on her face. “I hope I didn’t take too long to get here.”
“Hello!” She clasps her hands together. “No, no, of course not! Besides, I haven’t really looked at the time.” They share a laugh as she places her hands on her hips. “No such thing as too many customers, but you know…”
“You sell kites of the highest quality, it is only natural.”
“Ah, you, here you go again…” She waves him off, sighing as she turns to where the pile of commissioned kites seem to be. “Red maple leaf, did I get that right?”
“Yes, please.” Kazuha bows even if her back is facing them. “Thank you so much.”
“Ah, well, it’s not like you didn’t pay me for it.” Miss Zhenyuan waves him off again. “Give me a few moments and I’ll—hold on,” She turns, her eyes immediately landing on Ayato. “Forgive me for forgetting to ask, but would you also like a kite, Sir?”
Ayato licks his lips. Kites are not Inazuma’s specialty; he has read of them and knows how they work theoretically, but—”Oh, no need, Miss. This would be my first time flying one, I’m afraid I may not do it justice.” Ayato gives her a small bow. “I’m content with watching Kazuha fly his own kite, for now.”
When Ayato turns to look at Kazuha, Kazuha is already looking at him. The corners of his eyes are softer than usual, and there’s a look in his eyes that Ayato is not privy to, once again. He hears Miss Zhenyuan hum and sigh, sees her shrug from his peripheral vision, before she turns her back to them again. “I’ll sell you a decorative kite instead, since you’re not from around here. Give me a few more minutes…”
Ayato is the first to break eye contact, which barely happens when he’s with Kazuha. He swallows nothing. “Please, take your time.”
Every corner of the harbor is bustling; every imaginable sound is present. Ayato spares Kazuha a glance—knowing him and his uncanny connection to nature, this should be overwhelming—only to see him fiddling with his bandage. His eyebrows are furrowed and Ayato sees the faintest bead of sweat roll down from Kazuha’s temple. His fingers twitch with a compulsion to wipe it off for him, to reach out and tuck his strands behind his ear, to do anything for him—
“Does Liyue place significance when it comes to meanings behind kites?” Ayato says instead. When Kazuha looks up at him, he offers a small smile.
Kazuha blinks, before huffing. “I doubt the head of the Yashiro Commission doesn’t know this. Don’t mock me.”
It’s Ayato’s turn to blink. Kazuha’s bottom lip is slightly protruding, a mock pout on his face that sends a jolt to the rest of Ayato’s body, and he, he—”I’m,” Ayato clears his throat, biting his bottom lip as he turns to face the street. He’s face to face with a staircase leading to a guesthouse. He does not open his mouth again until a Millelith officer walks past. “I’m not mocking you. I just,” He looks at Kazuha, now facing the same direction as he is, yet still fiddling with his bandages. “I just wanted to hear you talk.”
If his hesitation could speak, it would be as loud as the indistinct chatter everywhere in Liyue Harbor. Kazuha perhaps could tell—he looks up at him briefly, mapping whatever he sees on Ayato’s face and slightly hunched shoulders—but decides to say nothing about it, instead looking up at the various kites hung up as decorations.
“... They do. The most classic design is the scissor-tailed swallow,” Kazuha’s tongue rolls on the characters and tones effortlessly. “And it usually symbolizes good fortune and joyful tidings. The people of Liyue have adopted newer designs as of late, such as Whopperflowers.”
As if on cue, children run past them as they attempt to make their Whopperflower kite soar. Their unbridled awe and joy as they watch it catch the wind and slowly build up a momentum is enough to make both of them smile. They look at each other, before smiling wider.
“Here you go!” Miss Zhenyuan calls for their attention with both their kites in her hands. She hands the bigger one to Kazuha. “Thank you for your patronage!” She turns to Ayato, gently handing over a butterfly kite. “I couldn’t find one that had your exact colors, but I hope you like this nevertheless.”
It’s a blue butterfly kite with gold and green lining. This would belong seamlessly when he hangs it up in his room. Maybe he should commission a matching butterfly design with different colors for Ayaka and Thoma. “I think it’s beautiful. Kazuha is right, these kites are of high quality.”
“Birds of the same feather, you two.” Miss Zhenyuan waves them off with a grin on her face. Ayato hands her his payment before Kazuha can even grab his pouch—Kazuha pouts again for two seconds—and Ayato can only stop his smile from growing wider. “Many happy returns!”
Ayato looks at the butterfly kite in his hands, carefully holding it by the bridle and the frame. He remembers several ripped washi papers due to his incompetence. He has always been terrified of ruining the most beautiful things.
(And so he daren’t reach the one beside him right now so suddenly and callously.)
“Aside from various designs with corresponding meanings,” When Kazuha speaks, Ayato slowly turns his head at him. His eyes are glued on his kite, gently tracing the frame. He has yet to lose his gentleness. “Some people write down their wishes or their secrets, then they cut off the string, before letting go and letting their kites fly freely. Kites are surprisingly versatile, despite the basic structure and method of creating one staying consistent throughout generations.”
Ayato can only nod. Kazuha’s fingers linger on the edge of the spine. “My favorite knowledge involving kites, however, is that—” He looks up, and their eyes meet within a second. “Liyuen poets from the past used them in their literary work not only to evoke and emulate the idyllic nature of rural sceneries, but also to symbolize,” Ayato sees Kazuha’s fingers tighten their hold around the spine of their kite. “Longing.”
At age eleven, Ayato made the most colorful festival of the year happen under his supervision. Years, years, long years after, Ayato is—falling in love, is what it is, in the middle of Liyue Harbor.
Ayato is falling in love again—over the same person, not the first time—miles away from home, all while staring at his object of affection in the middle of the festivities. The colors of the harbor are muted when Kazuha is standing in the middle, as beautiful as he was thirteen, fourteen years ago. As beautiful as he always is.
“I caught you eyeing a stall before we had our lunch,” Kazuha takes a step closer, his eyes never leaving Ayato’s face. “Do you mind if we take the long route to get there?”
“Never,” Only does Ayato’s brain sync with his mouth. He licks his lips, looks down on his kite, before nodding. He is but a kite, this very moment. Or maybe since years ago. Kazuha has always had a hold on him even before he realized. “I don’t mind immersing ourselves in the festivities.”
And so they walk, taking in the fresh and sweet smell of food stalls while narrowly avoiding crowds. They walk past a group of dancers—the same ones they saw earlier outside Liuli Pavilion’s window—“They’re called the Wushou troupe,” Kazuha fills him in as one of them takes off the dragon head. “One of them—that’s him,” He points at the one now wiping dirt off the dragon head he was wearing earlier. “Gaming. He helps with the Crux with deliveries, sometimes.”
Kazuha continues to point and gesture at everything else, giving Ayato either a historical background or his own thoughts. When they reach a wooden pathway that leads back to the harbor, Kazuha gently whistles to the pigeons idling about. One of them flies and lands on his finger while the rest of them fly off. Ayato is convinced he would have already patted its head if it weren’t for his kite. Before Ayato extends a hand to take his kite, it flies off, and Kazuha is more than happy following it with his eyes.
From a distance, there’s a lone tree perched on a rock formation. Ayato remembers the first time he approached Kazuha; Kazuha, sitting by the docks after learning the truth of his clan, looked as peaceful as ever despite being sent in a goose chase hours before. Ayato’s hands were as sweaty as they are right now.
They reach the stall from before with little to no hitches; the stall is run by a guy named Shitou, if Ayato got the tones right. He sells jades and convinces people to pick which is the most authentic jade among his display, all while subtly draining them of their mora. He does not attempt anything similar, if glancing at the weapons hanging on both his’ and Kazuha’s hips were to say anything. He gets the jade closest to Ayaka’s eyes—Noctilucous, a gemstone that appears to glimmer more beautifully in the dark—and cor lapis that reminds Ayato of Thoma’s golden hair. He paid more than the agreed price, all because Shitou’s wariness amused him until the very end.
When they pass by the small pond from earlier, Ayato mimics Kazuha throwing an invisible coin. Kazuha catches this and jabs his elbow against Ayato’s arm. They share a laugh that is not privy to the rest of Liyue Harbor despite the crowd around them. Ayato buys more trinkets and jewelry from the nearby stalls for some members of the clan and the commission, and even a pinwheel with colors that remind him of Sayu.
They walk the same path they took earlier, but their sleeves and hands brush more often than they ever have. Ayato is not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. He silently offers a prayer to thank every deity that may have an extent of involvement to this entire day. When they pass by the bridge where Ayato did not trip on nothing, Kazuha’s arm is completely pressed on his sleeve.
“Does the noise not suffocate you?” Ayato does not stop himself this time. Before he can pretend he has not said a word, Kazuha shakes his head. “Not with you this close. All I hear is you.”
They cross the bridge and all Ayato can think of is how Kazuha does not pull his arm away. Granted, Xinyue Kiosk and Liuli Pavilion are gaining quite a crowd yet again as dinner is fast approaching, but—”The firmness of your steps, how your shoes meet the concrete at such a stable weight, the fluttering of your sleeves, and the quiet sound of your family crest hitting your back,” Kazuha’s voice drops to a whisper. It’s as loud as the drumming of Ayato’s heart. “They’re all I’m focusing on.”
They get past the forming crowd until they’re facing another set of steps. Ayato is out of it until Kazuha pulls away. Ayato takes a few breaths—partially due to the crowd, mostly due to Kazuha’s proximity—and relaxes his shoulders once they see a serene cement pathway above a waist-length pond. The lotuses and the fish offer him a peace of mind, calm and scenic despite the number of people down the harbor. There are less people here, so Kazuha no longer presses himself against Ayato. Ayato has half a mind to mourn his loss, even if Kazuha is only walking a step before him.
“Liyue does love its steps and stairs.” Ayato remarks when Kazuha points at the harbor’s most famous pharmacy.
“A good way to passively exercise.” Kazuha waves his free hand vaguely. They share a laugh even as they walk past the stern-looking Millelith guards stationed where cement slowly blends into rocks and grass.
They climb up the stray stairs, passing by a few rock formations that take on the visual of clouds—natural or man-made, Ayato sees the beauty of it’s irony, and he tells this to Kazuha, who hummed and agreed—and a few glaze lilies, now open under the moonlight peeking from behind the clouds.
“Does Liyue have meanings for flowers as well?” Ayato glances at Kazuha as they’re nearing the end of the stone steps. “What would glaze lilies mean, if ever?”
“Do they?” Kazuha hums again, with a corner of his lips raised and a smile in his eyes. Ayato gives him a special rendition of a glare—only close to a deadpan look, because he does not want to meet Kazuha with sharpness in any way—and Kazuha laughs. “I’m not so well-versed with Liyue floral meanings, I’m afraid. Glaze lilies do look as elegant as you, however. Also as hard to acquire as…” He trails off, letting the way his eyes trail up and down Ayato’s figure wordlessly in favor of continuing the rest of his sentence. There’s a firework show in Ayato’s system before Liyue Harbor has even started setting them off to the sky.
“Here we are,” Kazuha says, gesturing to the wooden bridge in favor of changing topics. The waterfalls surrounding them do not overwhelm Ayato in any way. “It’s not the fanciest bridge, but people rarely pass here in favor of taking other routes. Still, it’s close enough to the harbor. The kites and the fireworks show are perfectly visible from here without subjecting ourselves to,” Kazuha sets his leaf kite down before stretching his neck. “The rest of Liyue Harbor.”
“Thank you,” Ayato finds himself speaking before realizing. Kazuha looks at him with his head slightly tilted to the left. There are enough things Kazuha has done that warrants gratitude on Ayato’s end, even during this day alone. He decides to let himself speak freely—a privilege only few manage to earn. (Kazuha did not have to do anything to earn it.) “For picking this scenic bridge—” Ayato sees two glaze lilies situated in front of them, glimmering under the moonlight, and he exhales quietly while gathering up his courage. “For a hearty lunch. For inviting me over to Liyue Harbor, despite both of us not being native Liyuens. For…”
For giving me the chance, Ayato nearly says. He has not hesitated this long since he had to deliver an opening speech for the first time. His hands start to sweat, and before he forgets how brittle his kite is, he sets it down beside Kazuha’s leaf kite. He takes a deep breath when he’s crouching and does not release it until he’s standing up straight again, right beside Kazuha.
“For…?” Kazuha nudges his left arm, still gentle even when he prods.
“For letting me enjoy Lantern Rite with you.” Ayato smiles at him. The wind is not so harsh as day transitions into night, only a breeze that caresses both their skins. Kazuha’s freckles are no longer as visible, but it does not stunt his beauty in any way. Ayato is not a poet, so he’s left with the option of memorizing every wrinkle and dip he sees in Kazuha’s face. “You could have enjoyed this with—anyone else.”
Ayato would never admit to his voice wavering in the slightest bit. He breaks eye contact with Kazuha for the second time—Kazuha is capable of making him do things he has never thought of doing—and licks his lips. His hands are balled into fists, tight and unforgiving.
Kazuha sighs. “I wouldn’t have wanted to spend Lantern Rite with anybody else.”
It’s—simple, when he says it like that. Like leaves that simply leave the branch. Like the wind that caresses their hair and napes. It just is. Kazuha invited him just because.
Ayato swallows nothing. He swallows some more.
“Well,” Kazuha dusts nothing off his hands—Ayato eyes the frayed edges of his bandages—and takes his kite. “What is this year’s Lantern Rite if I don’t release this to the wind now?” He checks if his kite is in top condition, then adjusts the bridle, lets some of the line out, before looking at Ayato. “If you don’t mind, Ayato…”
Kazuha does not usually address him by his name. Ayato is but a fish getting reeled out of water, mindlessly holding Kazuha’s red maple leaf kite and waiting for further instruction. His face is just as warm as his chest and the rest of his body. Hook, line, sinker. “Waiting.”
Kazuha smiles, lets more of the line out as he walks away slowly.
(Him walking away would not be the first time, literally and metaphorically. This time, it does not grate in Ayato’s ears nor does it add unnecessary weight on his chest. All he sees is Kazuha, his most beloved, smiling as he feels the wind against his body and his kite. When Kazuha tells him to let go of his kite, he does, and they both stare as it takes off.
Kazuha continues to pay attention to his kite, adjusting the line depending on the wind. His attunement to nature gives him leverage when it comes to kite flying.
Ayato continues to pay attention to Kazuha, in turn. The moon pales in comparison to his beauty.)
“You’re a natural.” Ayato smiles when Kazuha walks back to where he stood earlier. His kite is still up in the sky, stable and serene.
“Just listening to what the wind tells me,” Kazuha lets go of the reel for two seconds to tuck his hair behind his ear. “Are you sure you don’t want to give it a try? Butterfly kites usually mean freedom, you know.”
“It would look much better in my room than up there,” Ayato shakes his head. “If there is a next time.”
“There would be,” Kazuha affirms, nodding his head. When he licks his lips, Ayato mirrors it. “And I should be there when you fly your first kite.”
A few months ago, Kazuha was on his lap, and Ayato was kissing him with all the reverence his body has learned and cultivated after being part of the Yashiro Commission, who continues to serve the Raiden Shogun up to this day. It was—unplanned, frankly speaking, but it was something Ayato never regretted and never will. This—whole courtship situation, they’ve messed up the steps, and Ayato may be welcoming of what the modern times has to offer to Teyvat, but Kazuha deserves better than what he is giving him as of now. He is more than aware than to compromise the order of things, if all the festivals and the cultural events he has approved and planned are worth anything regarding this matter, but they’re here now, and Ayato has to make do.
He does not say all this. Kazuha perhaps did not expect him to, either, seeing as he slowly reels his kite down in favor of stepping closer to Ayato. When his kite is flying only two meters overhead, only then does Kazuha speak. “I wanted you to be here, with me. Since seven months ago.”
For seven months— ”...Yes?"
Kazuha sighs. He reels his kite towards himself even more. “I know you also visited Liyue because you want an audience with the Lady Tianquan, which,” He bites his bottom lip. “Captain Beidou has already mentioned it to her, if you’re curious. I know you already have a scheduled meeting with her, but it wouldn’t hurt for it to go a little more smoothly, don’t you think?”
“...Yes.” Ayato is a fish out of water, with how thoughtless his responses are. This amuses Kazuha, however.
“I guess we’re even now, after you helped me behind the shadows, as well.” He nudges Ayato’s arm, a little harder than his other ones, which makes Ayato huff a smile. “Joking, joking.”
“Thank you.” Ayato finds another thing to be grateful for. Kazuha shakes his head. “That does not technically count as me helping you, so no need.”
“No, let me say my thanks nevertheless.”
Kazuha shakes his head again. “My point is, I know you did not want to see me and me alone, and yet I am overjoyed that you are here. I got to see you, and know more of you while spending the rest of the day together.” Before Ayato gets a chance to refute his statement, Kazuha trudges on. “I want you here. I hope you are enjoying your time with me.”
“I could never not enjoy my time when I’m with you.” The night is young, the waterfalls show no signs of quieting down, the two glaze lilies are as beautiful as ever. Ayato looks down at his kite, before looking at the rest of Liyue Harbor. There is no better time to let courage take over his system than now. “I was… overjoyed, to use your own word,” He steals a glance and sees Kazuha chuckling. “When I received your invitation, and was still overjoyed even when we had to navigate through so many people. In fact,” Ayato finally looks at him, turning his body so he’s facing Kazuha completely. “I still am. Overjoyed, so to speak.”
“Are you now,” Kazuha reels his kite until he holds it with both hands and sets it down beside Ayato’s kite. In a flash, his bandaged hand is on Ayato’s face, caressing his cheek with his thumb ever so lovingly. His voice drops to a near-whisper when he speaks again. “You should—I don’t invite just anyone, you know. Clan head or not.”
“Really now,” Ayato echoes his teasing.
Kazuha exhales through his nose, biting his bottom lip to prevent a grin. “I’m happy to hear all that from you, really.”
The strokes needed to write the character for interval, between, the time while waiting for something, meanwhile(, waiting, waiting, for years, he has been waiting) requires patience. To not confuse it with other characters such as initiate, to begin, to start(, to start believing that Kazuha wants him just as much as he wants to be with him), you also need intelligence. Remembrance. He also has to be firm while also being graceful under the pressure, even beyond the art of calligraphy. Ayato needs to be different things all at once, to keep his clan, the Yashiro Commission, and the rest of Inazuma afloat, and he is far from being perfect. In Kazuha’s hands, he is more or less unbandaged skin; open, unraveled. It’s warm where their skins meet.
From a distance, Lantern Rite’s closing show begins.
Kazuha looks away, looking out to the kites and lanterns. The myriad of colors show in his eyes and the rest of his face, and it elevates the unbridled awe in his features. The banging of the drums and the clapping of the people do not drown out how Kazuha stands out in Ayato’s eyes.
For years, he has never dreamt of being this close to Kazuha. After years, he finally gets to count all twenty two of his face freckles scattered all over his nose and under his eyes. He holds Kazuha’s hand with both of his’, no plans whatsoever of letting go anytime soon.
For now, Ayato will hold in the urge to kiss Kazuha and taste what he leaves on the roof of Ayato’s mouth. Instead, he turns his head in the slightest to press his lips on Kazuha’s bandages, not caring of the texture nor the state of it's edges. This gets Kazuha's attention, eyes somehow widening even more. It’s Ayato’s turn to pull the rug beneath Kazuha’s feet. “Let me bandage your hand later.”
“... Alright.” Kazuha looks away for a second, before pressing his lips on Ayato’s mole—the one by his lips. “Many happy returns.”
Ayato remembers every detail of Kazuha’s face—he can never remember too much—down to the most minute crack of his lips, down to his shortest eyelash, until his eyes land on Kazuha’s red ones. They reflect the colors of the fireworks being set off one by one, and they hold enough space in Ayato’s heart.
He has to invite Kazuha the next time Inazuma celebrates a festival—two out of all the things he loves in one—and his heart soars even more, unabashedly elated. He is but a kite and Kazuha has the power to reel him in or let him go.
He's not in Inazuma, not at home, but he's warm and content.
He wishes for Liyue’s prosperity—and for keeping Kazuha company, for keeping him happy, for keeping him safe, for keeping him fulfilled—before he whispers back, “Many happy returns, Kazuha.”