Ayato had been sliced across with a sword.

Bleeding out in the dark Chinju Forest was just as unbearable as he had imagined it to be.

Pain burned on his chest with his guttural efforts to breathe steadily. It was getting hard to focus. Ayato gritted his teeth. He hated, hated, hated it when he couldn't focus.

Pathetic.

Even an infant with a sword could kill him at this point. He winced as he leaned back, feeling more light-headed than ever. He was losing consciousness as fast as he was losing blood.

There was rustling in the trees, the dim glow of blue flower clumps waving in and out of his vision like stars. Someone burst from the thicket. Thankfully, it was one of his own.

"Lord Kamisato? Hey—hey, I found him! Send troops to back up Kaedehara Kazuha now!"

"Get a stretcher for Lord Kamisato and do not abandon the post. Alert Thoma upstate, the Traveler is on his way with Lady Hiragi in his arms."

The Chinju Forest materialized between his blinks. It was the place where he called off your engagement. It reminded him of the times in your teens when you would spar together in the garden.

Ayato had been genuinely surprised to see you preparing to marry him. The sadness on your face when he broke it off.

He recognized that look of heartbreak well.

The treasure chest in his mind rattled to break open. Memories. Repressed emotions and intense energy.

Ayato had asked you in Ritou if you could recount what he did to make you hate him so much. He stupidly made a fool of himself in your eyes. He knew exactly what he did.

An unhealthy obsession with you was not part of the original plan.

The deal was to be a marriage of convenience, but there had been progress in your relationship over the past few months. You seemed more comfortable. Happier. At ease. He had never allowed himself to think that was because of him.

Then you kissed him like a mad woman.

Not just once, but twice.

Admittedly, he enjoyed it both times.

Ayato blinked away black spots swimming in his eyes and swallowed hard against despair creeping up his throat. Memories were threatening to break through.

It was his fault that you were gone.

A crescendo of misplaced anger sharpened him. He had lost sight of why his advisers had him propose to you in the first place; the entire reason why he had let you back into his life. It was supposed to be for power and alliance. Somehow he allowed his feelings to get involved. He had been uncharacteristically careless. Idiotic.

But the truth was, he had been afraid.

"Yashiro Commissioner—h-hey, he's passing out!"

Ayato drifted to slumber and remembered.

Seventeen.

It was the only teenage year with three syllables in its word, and in Ayato's mouth, it weighed like adulthood already. Too young for what really mattered, but old enough to understand his place.

Ayato kept calm every time he gazed into your eyes, getting into position with your bamboo training swords drawn. It was an excellent excuse to map out your features so he could imprint them into his memory like archival ink.

The garden was less of a training ground and more of a sanctuary. Although he usually won, it wasn't shameful to be second. You weren't even resentful about it. Government was not your priority. There had been many tales of second-born children driven mad by the hunger for power that they poisoned heirs in their sleep. Thankfully, you got along quite well.

He had been so lost in thought that you disarmed him.

"'Yato, you've been out of it lately," you said.

Ayato let his sword disappear into particles. He spoke calmly to hide that something was bothering him, but you always knew. "It's late. My father will want me home soon."

"It's a long walk back," Reluctant disappointment filled your eyes. "You should stay."

"Forgive me," Ayato hid a smile. It was a lovely feeling to have you yearning for his presence. "I want to, but Father is sick."

Bitterness filled his tongue. Fate was merciless. Seventeen was the age when a person realized everything around them was not permanent, and that applied to him. The Kamisato Clan was falling apart. His parents were ill. Ayato wasn't even sure if you'd still be his friend after everything.

Friend. The word bounced around his head as you poured his tea. Friend. He repeated it as he wiped the corner of your mouth, and your lips parted slightly. Friend. He thought of it as you stirred caramel in the tea because it cheered him up when he was down, which occurred more often than he'd like to admit these days.

He wasn't sure when the word friend had blurred, but it was why he visited almost every week—seeing you made him less tired, the world less cold.

You placed a hand over his.

"I hope your father gets better," you said.

Ayato squeezed.

"Thank you. I hope so, too."

It wouldn't be long before his parents passed down the Yashiro Commission to him, and you'd be wedded off to someone else. It would never be the same once you were married off.

Ayato glanced down at the calligraphy scroll you were mindlessly practicing on. It was part of your lessons, since your life purpose as a princess was to sign papers, make art, and be beautiful.

You signed Ayato's name.

"Pretty," he complimented. When you eye-rolled, he cheekily added, "Your handwriting, of course. Not my name. Though Ayato is a pretty name as well."

"Pretty name for a pretty boy," you commented, not noticing how Ayato's face was dusted with pink. You continued to brush on the paper, strokes smoother than water.

Ayato.

My dearest

His heart leaped.

My dearest

My dearest friend.

What a waste of ink.

"Oh? Am I your dearest friend?" He loved having the opportunity to tease you until you'd get mad. "Really? More than Chisato? More than anyone?"

"Chi is my cousin, she doesn't count," you said defensively. "And you're my friend."

"More than all the boys that vie for your hand?"

You cupped a palm over your cheek, subtly hiding your face with your hand. Ayato took the opportunity to pry your fingers apart, amused when you tried to swat him away to no avail.

"That's different. They only act nice to me because they want me to be their wife. I don't know them. You... I know you."

Ayato played with a lock of your hair.

"If I asked you to marry me, would you accept?"

Your eyes widened and you almost spat out your tea. He had dropped a bomb.

Ayato quickly recovered, hiding his curiosity with an easygoing grin. "The look on your face is priceless."

You visibly calmed down, thinking that he had made a joke. It stung Ayato more than it should have. The calligraphy brush clinked as you set it on a saucer, deep in thought. His eyes burned circles into your face as he prodded you to answer.

You avoided eye contact with him. "I think I would."

"Without hesitation?" he persisted.

You groaned, using two hands to hide your face while Ayato laughed. You were susceptible to his teasing until your heart was blushing with shame.

You switched tactics. "I don't see why I should worry about that. It's not like you'd ever marry me."

"Don't try to change the subject," he teased. "You think we would be horrible together because we'd quarrel."

"The future Yashiro Commissioner will find a beautiful, wonderful girl that will never annoy him and make a lovely mistress for his lovely estate, and that girl will not be me."

Ayato pressed his lips together, willing himself not to ask something that would make you feel embarrassed. Are you jealous?

The two of you indulged your thoughts in a long silence, broken only by the leaves falling into garden ponds.

Perhaps it was sadistic, but that you were possessive of him gave him sweet satisfaction. He would never voice these thoughts to you. It was embarrassing and you would probably think he was deranged.

"It's getting dark," you said. "You should head home."

Ayato held out his arm for you. It was good practice for formal occasions although you usually spent those in each other's company too.

"Sir Kamisato," your father greeted the moment you passed by your parents. "Send my regards to your father."

Ayato could feel you watching him, noticing what your father could not, as he put on his best smile. Your mother glanced at your hand on Ayato's arm. It was a respectful gesture, but you were approaching marriageable age. Suspicions of courtship were rising.

Your hold loosened, and he could tell that you were burning in embarrassment.

He had one freedom you did not have, and that was the freedom of choice.

Many people questioned why Ayato chose you as a companion instead of a future commissioner like himself, and they all assumed that it was because he coveted you as his wife. It had been more platonic than that.

Luckily, his parents liked you and encouraged him to play nice. He had always been a lonely and formidable child and it was a good change of pace for him to befriend someone his age.

"Take care," you said as you saw him out the gates of the Kanjou headquarters. You leaned in to kiss him on the cheek. "My dearest... friend."

He wished you wouldn't draw your words out like that, like the word friend to describe him was just an afterthought of dearest. You could be lovers, if you wanted to. It would be the most perfect relationship in all of Inazuma. Not that Ayato would have pursued you outright; it was just purely politically logical. And that was why it was ridiculous to even think about it.

Ayato held eye contact as he took your hand to kiss it. He relished seeing you flush every time he did so. As friends, you weren't openly affectionate because it was improper, but subtle touches made up for it.

"I'll write you a letter to visit this weekend," you said, brushing your thumb over the knuckles Ayato had placed his lips on. "I look forward to seeing you... Lord Kamisato."

"Don't call me that," he groaned.

"One day, I'll have to."

"Not today."

You laughed. The idea of the future was so far, you couldn't believe it was real. Or perhaps you knew, but chose to look elsewhere. Revelations were still ahead, far beyond the privileged bubble you so comfortably resided in.

Awful things like war.

Politics.

Death.

Ayato's heart pounded, and his vision blurred as his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room. The physician was kneeling by the commissioner's bed, finishing his examination. He knew what it meant—his father had little time left.

When they were alone, Ayato strode to his father's bedside. "Father, what happened?"

"What happens to us all in due time, my son."

Silence filled the chamber. Ayato was overwhelmed. His father had never been one to show weakness, and now the burden he had carried was weighing down his life.

"You needn't be alone," his father reminded him. "You have your mother and Ayaka. One day, a wife of your own."

"I will," Ayato did his best not to shake. "If marriage for me is what you wish."

"No," he said gruffly. "Everyone in Teyvat may wish something of you, but not this. Be loved, my son."

As night fell over the Kamisato Estate, father and son knew they had passed wisdom to carry and cherish.

Be loved.

Not long after the Yashiro commissioner's death, his wife followed. They could not be parted, even in demise. Ayato later wondered if there would ever be a person who would love him so much that she couldn't bear to be alive in a world where he was not.

All that was left of the Kamisatos were their grieving children. Inazuma was not a kind nation, and the enemies moved in from every direction.

Within days, Ayato was paranoid. He hardly slept, pacing around in case of assassins ready to slit his throat — or worse, Ayaka's. He laid off household staff. Every word meant peril. Paperwork demanded debt that the Kamisato Clan supposedly owed.

The final straw was when he poured a suspicious glass into the estate's koi pond, only to watch the fish float to the surface on their poisoned underbellies.

"Where did this come from?"

"My lord, it was from the Kanjou Commission," Thoma replied. Ayato felt the blood drain from his face.

"Certainly not the—?"

"Not the Hiragi Clan, no," Thoma swiftly added. "The minor clans. They have been getting harsher with its outlander policies, but the Hiragis turn a blind eye."

Betrayal.

A whirlwind of emotions began to crush Ayato's ribs. If your family was a threat, he could not trust you.

It was a fundamental truth in Inazuma that duty and honor came first. You would understand. But couldn't look you in the eyes after everything he'd done to hold onto power — countless sabotage, heated debates, "missing" people who had opposed him — you'd be horrified. No reckoning would ever make him admit how vulnerable you made him feel.

Thunder rolled in the sky when Thoma summoned him from his office.

"Lady Hiragi F/N of the Kanjou Commission is waiting outside for you," he said slowly. "She requests your presence."

A weight dropped down Ayato's stomach. Every step he took away from his office felt like an execution march. Droplets poured heavily when he stepped outside.

"Ayato."

You were soaked to the bone. Layers of clothing weighed you down, but you were strong enough to stand straight. Ayato's heart bent with guilt at your wet hair and slow panting. At the sight of him, your eyes brightened.

Ayato fought to keep his voice steady. "What are you doing here?"

"I came on my own accord," you said carefully, surprised by the cold welcome you were receiving. "I wanted to know how you were doing, I... I heard the news."

His eyes dulled. "That is an understatement."

Silence. The rain howled. You waited for him to say more, but he did not. Ayato kept a blank expression, careful not to give anything away. If you found out about the multiple murder attempts with the Kanjou Commission involved, things would get harder for you and him. He already had Ayaka to worry about. He couldn't drag you into this too.

"Forgive me, Lady Hiragi, but I cannot surmise as to why you came here," he said flatly. "If you're asking for a report, I can tell you that following my parents' deaths, I have become the Yashiro Commissioner. In line with this, I have work to do. Good day."

Your face ranged from confusion to hurt.

"Excuse me?"

"I have no time for small talk, so let me make myself clear. I wish to end our association with one another. Our correspondence is inappropriate. I apologize for not responding to your letters, they have not been my priority as of late."

Taut was the air and heavy was the head that held the crown. Ayato was usually a gentleman, strong and kind, but now he could barely look you in the eyes. He felt like such a coward. And he knew you saw him as such, too.

After a few moments of silence, you finally spoke.

"Is this because of my family?" you asked, voice strained. "Heard all about the nasty things the Kanjou Commission has been doing to outlanders?"

A beat. He had to shut his doors before you could open him up again.

"Yes," Ayato replied. "I'm sorry, but I cannot associate myself with a family that has been ruining the economy while the rest of Inazuma suffers under the Vision Hunt Decree. It's not good for the Yashiro Commission."

"Not good for the Yashiro Commission," you repeated quietly. "Not even me."

Rain pattered against his face like icy knives. The crestfallen look on your face sliced him open.

He had seen the way you shrunk when people praised him but looked down on you for something you did not do. He had always tried to reassure you that he never thought of you that way, but now he was ripping it all apart like you meant nothing to him. Ayato wanted to jump off the cliff his estate bordered.

"You should leave," he said.

He had been cruel, but he was also being honest.

The truth would set both of you free—for the better. His job was to lead. Feelings could not change that.

Your face twisted with not a single drop of compassion left. A clap of thunder and lightning momentarily illuminated the sky, making your hairs stand. Even the Electro Archon seemed to disapprove of what was happening underneath the dark clouds.

"Of course, Lord Kamisato," you said slowly. "I am merely a lowly princess in enemy territory. Pardon my intrusion."

Blunt, bolded, and brisk—you were trying not to care. You blinked rapidly. He couldn't tell if you were holding back tears or blocking out the rain. Your mouth pressed into a trembling line.

"I thought you were different from them," you said, voice faltering. "I guess I didn't know you at all."

The finality in your tone told him that it was over.

Kamisato Ayato stormed into his office after you left. He was supposed to be the High Commissioner, but he didn't even know if he'd done the right thing. He couldn't recognize himself anymore. Pride had turned him into a monster, youth and inexperience made him a fool. His father had told him not to let the world decide who he could love, and even that was something Ayato failed to do.

Through the rainy window, he saw you disappear into the Chinju Forest. For a moment, he worried about your safety. It was dangerous to travel alone. Perhaps he should have sent an escort. But he had effectively humiliated you and ensured that you would never contact him again.

Tears cascaded down your cheeks.

Archons, what had he done?

He wanted to run back out and beg for your forgiveness. Remorse swallowed him whole, like falling into a dark abyss.

"Brother!" Ayaka slid open the doors in excitement. "I just heard that F/N paid a visit, why didn't you tell me? Oh—why is your hair wet?"

"She couldn't stay long," Ayato found himself saying. He peeled his eyes from the window and turned to face her with a well-practiced smile, ignoring the water running down his temples. "I have so much work to do. Worry not, sister."

Forcing himself to sit down at his desk, he picked up the next stack of accounts for him to settle.

You might be innocent, but you were still an enemy. You couldn't be trusted anymore. You had been a weak spot for him, an ugly scar that reminded him of everything he'd lost and done to gain.

Ayato hated you for it. He couldn't afford weakness .

One traveler later, the Vision Hunt Decree was lifted.

It was time for your family to play your marriage card. The nobility went ballistic for your hand when you were presented.

A reason for your parents to parade you, like a roast turning on a spit. Another bore.

When you swept across the debut in a dazzling kimono, wearing an irritatingly beautiful smile for the filthy rich of Inazuma and lavished with luxurious gifts, you paid no heed to Kamisato Ayato sipping wine a few meters away.

You were insufferable. You'd turned into quite the snob when it came to him. Your heart had hardened over the years of being shunned as the disgraced princess. You had such a disagreeable temperament whenever Ayato was in the room that he wanted to talk to you just to shut you up. Some perverse side of him even wanted to watch you squirm in discomfort, like squeezing a kitten, until you were begging for his mercy.

Ayato imagined you in a black dress, walking down the aisle to a faceless sleaze who wanted nothing more than your body or your money. It annoyed him that despite your bad reputation, many good men clamored for your hand. Somehow it seemed worse to watch you fall in love with someone he couldn't hate.

Looking at you was so agonizing that Ayato felt possessed by rage.

He didn't even know that he was staring at you with narrowed eyes until your gaze met his. You didn't say a word to his sullen and gloomy stature; it would ruin your mood for what could be a wonderful evening. You ignored him completely, which was irritating. He wanted to see you angry. Maybe that way, it would atone for the things he'd done and he could finally get the ugliness of it all out of his system.

Your eyes swept across your room of suitors, sparkling at the idea of one of these fine men falling in love with you.

Ayato's chest felt tight. He crossed his arms over his body.

He had built himself as a fearless leader and succeeded; no one ever questioned his authority as the Yashiro Commissioner. He fought the rise and reached the zenith. Nothing in this world could make him weak.

Except.

"This cannot be serious," said Ayato. "That brat Hiiragi is last person I want for a wife."

"It's not your fault the Yashiro Commission pressured you into this," Thoma replied nervously. "But we could do well with an alliance with the Kanjou Commission."

Ayato's face twisted with disapproval as he held up the letter from your parents, responding that they were more than pleased to accept the Yashiro Commission's offer of marriage to you. Thoma massaged his temples. He had listened to years' worth of Ayato's incessant yammering about you and this was the top of the absurd cake of his lord's questionable decisions.

"Um... I'm not saying that she's a bad choice, my lord," said Thoma. "But... you can't stand to be in each other's presence. I don't know—maybe it would be hard on you two?"

"So?"

"It sounds like you do care about her."

"Please, Celestia forbid she thinks I am a good man," he snorted. "The elements would be thrown off balance."

"I mean if you look at it from her point of view," Thoma hastily explained, "you ignored her after you became the High Commissioner and now you're taking her hand in marriage. I'm not saying you're a bad person, but—"

"No one else is good enough for her anyway," snapped Ayato. "Her family is the exact opposite of mine. Marriage or not, we will never love each other."

Thoma shifted. It was in his job description to act as a sponge and soak up whatever the High Commissioner had to say, but this was just ridiculous.

"And I certainly do not harbor any feelings for her," Ayato continued. "She's a spoiled brat who's married to her duties."

"So, just like you," Thoma mumbled.

Ayato pretended he didn't hear as he reread the letter to make sure his eyes weren't deceiving. The idea of marrying you settled on him, and strangely enough, it didn't feel like a burden.

This was just for power and show. And yes, maybe a little bit of it was because Ayato genuinely wanted to help you out—not because of pity, but because it was a completely transactional business that he should repay you. If he hadn't kicked you out of his life, the Yashiro Commission might not be where it was today.

Nostalgia washed over upon entering Ritou, and he thought of all the times you'd walk together during the height of your youth; a reality that no longer existed. Perhaps back then, something was arising between you and you weren't allowed to acknowledge it, but now it was the exact opposite.

He stood by the garden where you had once clashed blades, when he was seventeen and hardly knew a thing. He imagined the screen that would separate you until you met. He imagined the look of horror on your face when you'd realize you were getting shackled off to him, and he chuckled to himself. Not out of arrogance, but because it was hilarious. He might be occasionally mean, but he'd never do anything to harm you.

Someone poked her head out of the window. For a moment Ayato was worried that it was you, but he knew you'd never disobey your parents' orders to not peek at your future husband. It was Chisato, who would disobey. Her eyes widened when she saw Ayato. She wouldn't tell you, but she might give comfort.

He hummed to himself. He'd heard interesting rumors about Chisato and Kujou Kamaji being lovers. Your engagement to Ayato shut down any chance for them to get married. He made a mental note of that for later.

Maybe, just maybe, you'd actually be glad to marry him. And yes, maybe a part of him did want to see you. This was the last time he could ever imagine what your relationship would be like as it mended.

His dearest friend.

His most hated regret.

Kamisato Ayato's wife.

Perhaps he cared more than he thought he did.

Ayato blinked back into swirling consciousness. Thoma was standing at the foot of his bed, conversing with a very concerned Ayaka. He could smell the faintest aroma of Naku Weed and knew that he had been sedated with a drug. His vision swam with a dizzying, blinding black.

He mumbled your name, startling Ayaka and Thoma. "Where is she? I need to—she needs to—"

Ayaka gently forced him back down when he tried to sit upright. Ayato felt a flare of panic, the drug enhancing every emotion in his veins until he was on the verge of palpitating even though he rarely drank caffeine. The pain across his chest wasn't helping either.

"N-no, no. Sister, you must bring me to her."

"Shh, brother, you're drugged with medicine. Calm down."

"I need her—to see her," Ayato whispered. "Please—"

"My lord, she's resting," Thoma consoled. "Everyone is running on high emotions right now. She might be overwhelmed if you wake her up."

"That's right," Ayaka added quickly. "You might scare her away."

A flicker of sober irritation passed Ayato's face, the kind reserved for footmen. It made both Ayaka and Thoma shrink. Then he dropped the frown and groaned, a wave of nausea washing over him. Thoma, already used to Ayato's odd moments, sighed as he watched his lord's eyes cloud over with high from the drug. He wished Ayaka didn't have to witness it. The young lord swelled with a commanding tone that did not summon command.

"Where is she?" Ayato demanded, nearly slurring. "Ayaka, you must bring me to her. It's imperative."

"No, it is not," Ayaka said firmly. "Ayato, you've been given a steroid that is making you delirious. You're in no shape to do anything except rest."

It took a few moments for his breathing to stabilize. His thoughts slowly retreated from panic. Trying to collect his thoughts was impossible with medication addling his brain.

"You should have sent for a healer," he said, annoyed. "It was merely a scratch."

Ayaka and Thoma shared a look again.

"That sword... was imbued with poison," Ayaka tried gently. "But it's alright! It was dangerous, but treatable. You'll be fine in no time!"

Ayato's ears rang until his sister's voice drowned out. The medication made his heart beat faster again, pumping until his hands shook with rage. That sword had been meant for you.

"I'm going to tear the Tenryou Commission apart," he said. The drug was beginning to wear off. He tried to rise again. This time, Ayaka and Thoma were not so lenient.

"The Traveler did warn that the drug was going to make him delirious when we commissioned him to deliver this," Ayaka sighed. She looked frightened but pitiful towards her brother. "I'm sorry about this, Ayato."

"My lord, please rest," Thoma said as he used his Pyro powers to light a nearby incense burner. The drug's smoke entered Ayato's lungs again. "She will be okay."

"N-no," he whispered, already feeling sleep engulf him. "I have to... I have to... wait—"

"You can write a letter to her later. Just like before."

Admittedly, looking back on it, Ayato wasn't sure what he would have said to you either. He had taken up calligraphy as a hobby but the moment the brush was in his hand, its only use was to smudge out the words he couldn't say.

My dearest, F/N Hiragi.

Are you hurt well?

Please talk to me. Don't make me worry about you.

I apologize for everything hurting you putting you in this situation. I was a fool to let you go wish to make it up to you properly.

Write back as soon as possible.

From your dearest

From your friend.

Ayato.