MEANT TEA BE [ scaramouche ]

04: EVERYTHING AND ANYTHING

note: this chapter has not been proofread yet

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Wanderer finds himself in an unfamiliar cave. Despite the strangeness, however, there is a grand wooden building that looms over his figure. Traditional silk lanterns hang from its roof, emanating a warm, golden glow. Reddening trees encase the house in their tender embrace, and although the wanderer does not know this place at the moment, something within him yearns. Something within tells him that this is it.

His empty chest aches.

"Right now, you're in a dream I created using information extracted from your memories," Nahida explains, her voice resounding throughout the domain. "Wanderer, this is the Shakkei Pavilion. In your Balladeer incarnation, this is where the Electro Archon placed you after your creation. You had a great many memories here."

"Is that because this is kind of like his birthplace?" Paimon asks, tilting her head. Nahida offers a weak smile, her expression becoming distant.

"More specifically, this is where he first met [Name]. Because of how the Balladeer's memories were erased, everything is retold through [Name]'s perspective."

"[Name]?" the wanderer echoes, finding familiarity in the way the syllables roll off his tongue, the way a stranger's name fits so perfectly on his lips. His hand reaches up to his buzzing chest. It hurts.

"You'll see."

It starts like this.

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An odd loneliness rouses in their chest whenever they see him basking in the moonlight.

But the moonlight is more akin to his own despair, his own pity. Oh, they think, watching from afar, he's half a soul, half a heart. This boy is going to outlive himself; wasting his life away in the grimes of dirt staining his porcelain skin and lavender hair that sprouts in an unruly way.

He hasn't eaten a single thing, they muse, bringing together their precious supply of lavender melon before nudging their paws together. He might die; people are fragile, after all.

They don't know how he ended up here, in their mountain, a remote place untouched by the hands of humans (aside from a few mad souls who wanted to mine the contents of their home). They don't know why he wears robes of the finest silk, nor why he mourns a tearless cry as he sits, awaiting his death, starving himself 'till someone—maybe the Electro Archon herself—will take pity on him.

But the Electro Archon doesn't take pity on anyone, spirit nor human.

Do humans like yokai? is all they think, fiddling hopelessly with their claws as they watch the boy silently. Well, if he's so willing to die, I'm sure he'll welcome me with open arms. He landed in front of a domain, yet he hasn't explored it. Rather, he sits, staring aimlessly into the pouring rain.

In a fit of kindness, they nudge a lavender melon slowly towards him with their head. It sucks, having no hands like humans do. Although they'd usually grab the melons with their mouth, they don't know if humans like eating the remains of a fruit with their teeth imprinted onto them.

Probably not.

Once the melons meet his dormant hand, his gaze flickers towards them. Wide, innocent eyes stare at them as if they were the sunlight after an eternal winter, as if they were the only purpose of his futile life—as if everything was worth it, the growling stomachs and wistful weeps.

But they're just a yokai—a tanuki, no less. They could not wield the same level of power as kitsune; it was precisely why they remained hidden amongst the mountains of Tatarasuna instead of wandering the world as a kindred fox.