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“Scaramouche, the Balladeer, you are hereby charged for theft of the Electro Gnosis and high treason against Her Majesty, the Tsaritsa,” Tartaglia’s boisterous voice echoed across the open seas, capturing the attention of the entire Fatui crew. Scattered across the deck were Fatui of all ranks, each one scrambling to get a better look at the infamous Harbinger standing at the edge of the plank.
Scaramouche held his gaze with the Eleventh, who was currently aiming the tip of his sword at the puppet’s exposed chest. Tartaglia had made a show of stripping him of his gaudy clothing, leaving him in nothing but trousers and an untied undershirt. All the while, Scaramouche did nothing to stop him. He didn’t struggle, he didn’t yell, he didn’t fight…
“Have you any last words?” Tartaglia taunted, making a show of pricking his chest. His dull blue eyes twitched, eager for any reaction he could sink his teeth into.
Scaramouche smirked. While he had long-since given up, he was pleased to know his final interaction with Tartaglia would be on his terms. In his silence, the crowd of pirates began shushing each other and straining their ears to hear his would-be grand monologue.
“He’ll say something, right?”
“With that temper? There’s no way he’ll walk without cussing everyone out first.”
“Good riddance! He worked his fleet to the bone before he deserted them.”
He wouldn’t give them the satisfaction, either. Ungrateful mongrels. If he still had any power, he’d flog the whole lot for daring to speak out against a Harbinger. It was bad enough the Tsaritsa ordered him to walk the plank. He could think of dozens of better execution methods– anything would be better-suited for a charge as serious as blasphemy.
Most of the other Harbingers stood among the crowd, enjoying the show for their most hated colleague. Scaramouche nearly laughed when he realized Pierro and Capitano couldn’t be assed to show up. The only one unaccounted for was…
Dottore.
Scaramouche glared up at the crow’s nest, where Dottore stood comfortably away from the crowd. Of course he’d be there. It was the perfect viewing point to witness the final stage of his experiment– his betrayal.
That bastard was wise to keep his distance. A good hit on him might’ve been the only thing Scaramouche would bother escaping for.
Unfortunately, Scaramouche was not given the dignity of a competent executioner. Tartaglia prickled his chest once again, twisting the tip of his blade with a bored expression. “Nothing to say, puppet?”
Scaramouche only stared at him. Get on with it, already.
“How boring,” the Eleventh lamented. He sighed and took up a more relaxed position, beginning to twirl his blade by the handle. Then in a low voice, low enough for only Scaramouche to hear, Tartaglia said, “you know you won’t die from this… is that why you haven’t fought back?”
What a stupid question. It only proved how little his colleagues knew about him. The immortal puppet, created for a single purpose and discarded like trash, wanted nothing more than an end to his suffering. Even if his body couldn’t drown, Scaramouche was eager to embrace the freedom the seas offered him.
The longer Scaramouche refused to respond, the more restless Tartaglia’s crowd became. The Eleventh had no choice but to relent. With a flashy twirl of his cape, he turned to the crew and raised his blade in the air.
“Who wants to bet on the puppet’s fate?” Tartaglia called out. “50 mora says he’ll sink!”
The crowd erupted into chaos. Each pirate clamored for their pockets, pushing and shoving and calling out bets.
“I think he’ll float!”
“No way! I’ll bet 200 mora he sinks!”
Scaramouche felt a headache coming on. He shut his eyes and tried to drown out their incessant chatter. His bound hands twitched, itching to slit a couple throats and make an example of them.
Much to his relief, a hush washed over the crowd, followed by the soft tap-tap tapping of a wooden cane. Scaramouche’s eyes flew open.
Pantalone walked through the parting crowd. With each step of his fur-lined boots, his blinding, shiny cane tapped against the deck and lulled the ship into an anxious silence. Atop Pantalone’s massive feathered cloak, a colorful parrot squawked at Tartaglia.
“Mind if I place a bet?” Pantalone’s mouth twisted into a faux-innocent grin. “I believe the puppet will float… and I’ll put five-hundred thousand mora on it.”
The crowd exploded. Scaramouche grit his teeth; he couldn’t bear this anymore. He locked eyes with Tartaglia, who seemed to instantly know what he was doing.
“Enough stalling,” Scaramouche spat. Amidst the chaos, only Tartaglia and Pantalone could hear, but he couldn’t care less. Before Tartaglia could make a move, Scaramouche took his final step. As if in slow motion, his body tilted back until he was diving headfirst into the freezing cold water.
The shock hit him instantly. His eyes snapped open and he gasped instinctively. Snezhnaya’s waters were always known to be frigid, even near the borders, and this was no exception. Seawater flooded his artificial lungs and blurred his vision. His mind fogged and faded. How much time was passing under here? Seconds? Minutes? Hours? Was he truly sinking, like Tartaglia predicted?
Before he could relish in the idea, harsh reality smacked him in the face. With no organs, no muscles, and no heart to weigh him down, his body floated back to the surface. The moment his head broke through, he was struck with a wave of involuntary coughs and sputters.
The sea was spitefully calm today, as was the sky, which left the puppet with no choice but to hear the cheers and laughter echoing from the Fatui ship. They celebrated the Balladeer’s suffering long into the night, only bothering to hoist the sails when the sun rose from the horizon.
Something bonked his head, startling from his bitter daze. He looked up, surprised to see Tartaglia’s form standing alone at the back of the quarterdeck. The puppet blinked. Floating next to him was a small white buoy.
…a meaningless gesture, but he clung to the buoy regardless, if only to keep his head consistently above the water. As a show of appreciation he waved to Tartaglia. After seeing him wave back, the puppet flipped his hand to showcase his middle finger.
Tartaglia appeared to laugh, then shook his head before walking out of sight.
The puppet sighed and stared up at the orange sunrise enveloping him. This was the freedom he wanted, wasn’t it? How dull… maybe if he was lucky, a bird of prey would fly by and tear him apart.
Dawn was an old friend to Kazuha. There was nothing he loved more than curling up in the crow’s nest and feeling the warm morning sun on his wings. The tranquil quiet, free of bustling activity and chattering pirates, was a luxury to wake up to.
After nearly a year with the Crux, he knew their wake-up patterns by heart. He would wake first, stretch his wings in the crow’s nest, and enjoy the sunrise until Captain Beidou got up.
As captain, Beidou consistently forced herself awake first to make a sweep of the ship. By the time everyone else stirred, Beidou already had a plan in her head of what needed to be done for the day. Anyone who wasn’t up yet received an unpleasant wake-up call with the ship’s obnoxious bell.
That was another reason Kazuha would wake early. Beidou was always willing to warn Kazuha before ringing the bell– it was far too loud for his sensitive hearing, and a little ringing in his ears was no excuse to slack on work. Even as an honorary member of the Crux, Kazuha had his fair share of duties to attend to.
Kazuha wouldn’t have wanted special treatment anyway. Any regular pirate would dive overboard at the sight of a siren such as himself, but Beidou was more sensible than that. When the crew first rescued him, some of them were hesitant to nurse him back to health. Beidou took one look at his injured wings and made the call to trust him. Were it not for her, Kazuha wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to fly again.
On most days he’d be assigned with ordinary labor; today, Kazuha was grateful to be allowed watch duty in the crows nest. All he had to do was sit in his favorite spot and keep his senses sharp. With inhuman hearing and sight, he was the perfect crew member for the job. Nothing could get past him.
Not even the motionless body bobbing along the ocean… just a few miles from the ship…
Kazuha nearly fell out of the crow’s nest.
“Captain!” He squawked, scrambling down to the deck. He nearly tripped over his own two feet before Beidou’s strong hand grasped his shoulder and steadied his landing.
“Easy, kid,” Beidou said, “what’s–”
“There’s someone out there!” Kazuha cried. “There’s a body– they might be alive. Starboard side, slumped against a buoy.”
“Oh, shit. Well they probably are if they’re still grabbing the buoy..” Beidou motioned to the crew, keeping one firm hand on Kazuha. “Then again… we’re pretty close to Snezhnayan borders. It could be a trap.”
“There are no other vessels in the vicinity.” Kazuha corrected. He fluttered his wings anxiously. “Allow me to help– I can get there faster than a lifeboat.”
“You’ll carry a limp body over the water? Kid, are you insane?”
“Please, we don’t know how much time this person has. The Fatui don’t throw people overboard, so they must be the survivor of an accident.”
Beidou pursed her lips. She glanced over at her crew, who were pointing at the body across the water. “Fine,” she relented, “but be careful.”
Kazuha nodded graciously, already spreading his wings to take off. He had no time to waste–he had to get this human to Yinxing’s medical supplies as soon as possible. Thankfully he estimated his speed accurately. He soared over the stranger’s buoy in no time, maintaining a safe distance in the air while he determined the best approach. This person didn’t seem to be hostile or armed… or even conscious, for that matter. That settled it, Kazuha had to do this now.
In one graceful movement, Kazuha dove down and yanked the stranger out of the water. The man quickly made his consciousness apparent by crying out in alarm. Oops.
“It’s okay, I’m here to help,” Kazuha assured him, doing his best to keep his grip comfortable but still firm.
Unfortunately, his words fell upon deaf ears. The man seemed to realize his predicament of being grappled several meters above the sea. He squirmed, nearly managing to wiggle out of Kazuha’s arms while shouting obscenities and threats.
Kazuha cursed to himself and adjusted, then readjusted his grip. He understood the implications of his attempted rescue, but this human was stubborn. At this rate, someone was going to drown, and Kazuha wasn’t entirely sure it’d be the human.
“I really didn't want to do this…” Kazuha’s voice wavered. He had one option left: the one thing he promised he’d never do again. Was it worth it to save someone’s life? Someone who clearly didn’t want to be saved?
No, this human doesn’t know he’s being saved. Kazuha could apologize later. Now was not the time to question himself. With a heavy heart, he gripped the human’s short indigo hair and pulled his head closer.
“Calm down,” he whispered, then began to hum a soft melody into his ear. It was nothing special, just the first thing that came to mind: a sea shanty the Crux drunkenly sang last night. Frankly, it was the least soothing thing he could’ve come up with, yet the power of his siren song still managed to lull itself into the reckless man’s mind.
The human’s eyelids fluttered. His tense body slowly ceased to struggle until he finally grew limp in Kazuha’s safe embrace. Kazuha let out a sigh of relief, finally able to fly straight again. Guilt ate away at his heart. He couldn’t help but catch a glance of the human’s serene, glazed expression as his head lolled onto Kazuha’s shoulder.
Kazuha looked away. He couldn’t bear to see humans under his influence like this.
He continued to hum for the human until his feet safely landed on the deck of the Alcor. The crew clamored over Kazuha’s crouched form, startling both him and the human. In the commotion, the human’s eyes blinked open hazily. His brows furrowed as the spell waned with every passing second.
Kazuha bit his lip. Waking to a situation like this would not ease the human’s worries. He’d hurt someone at this rate– or worse, himself. Kazuha had to act fast.
Before the human could come to his senses, Kazuha brushed a hand over his bangs. “Sleep,” he whispered in a sing-song tone. Immediately, the human’s breath shuddered and his eyes slipped shut. Kazuha’s insides twisted. He offered a silent apology to his victim just as Beidou pushed her way to the front.
“Oi, you two alright?” Beidou knelt down and checked the human’s pulse on his neck. She winced and turned back to Yinxing behind her. “His skin is freezing. He must have been in the water for a while.”
“That’s not good,” Yinxing said regretfully. “Bring him to my quarters. We can dry him off and check for any other injuries.”
Kazuha nodded. Beidou barely gave him a chance to try standing before effortlessly sweeping the human out of his arms.
“I got this.” She winked, then called out to the crew, “everyone else, back to work! We’ve still got a long journey ahead of us and our buyer’s deadline is fast approaching!”
Kazuha tucked his wings in and followed close behind Beidou, who made no delay in getting the human to the surgeon’s quarters. Once the three (well, four) of them were inside, Yinxing tossed a handful of towels in his direction and ordered him to dry the human off before they got the cot wet.
The human’s clothes were soaked. Kazuha was thankful he didn’t have to remove too many layers in order to dry him off and assess for damage. However, the absence of a shirt made two things very clear.
One, the stranger in Beidou’s arms was not, in fact, human. His bare body was littered with faded lines, mostly along his joints in a way much akin to a doll.
The second, and embarrassingly more prevalent realization in Kazuha’s mind: this stranger was incredibly attractive. In the panic of rescuing him and the guilt of using his powers, Kazuha hardly got a good look at his face.
But now? He couldn’t pry his eyes off him. That beautiful violet hair Kazuha had grabbed was glistening wet, dripping down to his soft feminine cheeks. His skin was smooth and naturally cool to the touch. Beidou had to clamp Kazuha’s jaw shut before he could start drooling.
“Admire him later. My arms are starting to cramp.”
Right. Kazuha tried to focus. Whilst drying the hu– the… puppet off, he didn’t spot any apparent injuries. Aside from being a bit waterlogged, he seemed perfectly fine. If this puppet was man-made, whoever created him must have been a master of their craft. Kazuha wasn’t sure he could make a dent if he tried.
Once their guest was safely tucked into the cot, Yinxing returned with a thermometer in hand. She took one look at the puppet’s unclothed body and froze. “I…” She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, tossing the thermometer off to the side. “I guess I just made a bunch of preparations for nothing.” “Should we be worried about potential water damage?” Kazuha asked.
“I don’t know– I really don’t know!” Yinxing paced across the room and muttered something to herself. “Gods, I have no idea. Kazuha, your physiology was similar enough to a human that I could make some educated guesses. I don't even know what he is made out of.”
Beidou patted her shoulder. “You’re doing your best, Yinxing. That’s all we can ask for.”
“What should we do?” Kazuha’s worried eyes darted between the two women.
“We’ll just have to hope he can wake up to tell us.” Beidou said. “You were right earlier: the Fatui don’t throw traitors overboard. It should be safe to keep him unrestrained. We’ll keep as much supervision over him as possible, but…”
“I’ll watch him,” Kazuha offered.
“No, Yinxing will watch him. You still have chores to do. You can check on him in your down time.”
Despite Kazuha’s pleas, Beidou’s mind was made up. She allowed him ten more minutes before he was to return to watch duty. With a pout, Kazuha leaned against the cot and brushed his fingers against the puppet’s wet cheek.
I thought I dried his face already… Kazuha sat up and once again wiped the puppet’s face, which now appeared to be scrunched up in– pain? The puppet’s hand curled around his own chest, grasping for something unseen. Hot tears streamed down his face and pooled in Kazuha’s bandaged hand, followed by a heart-wrenching sob.
Kazuha shook the puppet. He tapped his cheeks and raised his voice, hoping to wake the poor soul, but to no avail. All he could do was hold the puppet close and hope he would wake on his own.
Embraced by your song,
eyes fixed on your lovely form,
I submit to you
Something warm brushed against his cheek. The puppet hummed and leaned into the gentle touch. Hushed words eased him back into consciousness until his senses sharpened enough to distinguish the voice. It was familiar– comforting, even. The puppet’s eyes fluttered open.
Next to him sat an ethereal young man with platinum blond hair. A streak of red painted his bangs like a leaf in the wind, complementing his warm scarlet eyes. The moment their gazes crossed, the young man gasped eagerly.
“You’re awake!”
Scaramouche blinked. Behind the young man, a pair of white wings rustled in excitement. Much like his hair, the man’s feathers faded into a gradient of red near the bottom, as if dipped in a pool of blood.
Oh. The siren.
The siren must have noticed where his eyes had traveled to. He shyly folded his wings behind his back, as if that could conceal their massive span. He began to spout some nonsense about how he wouldn’t harm him. Scaramouche began to wish his sense of hearing hadn’t returned.
He groaned and turned to face the wooden ceiling. He seemed to be in some raggedy ship’s medical quarters. Strange that there would be a siren here– perhaps a family of sirens took it over? He couldn’t imagine why they would do such a thing. Scaramouche eyed the young siren’s wings once more, just to be sure they weren’t actually blood-stained.
“I was so worried you were dead,” the siren babbled on, “or shut down somehow. No-one on the ship knew how to take care of you, so we just had to wait.”
Scaramouche suddenly felt the distinct lack of clothing. Oh great, he thought, not even Tartaglia had the balls to strip me.
“You might as well just throw me back,” he retorted. “You’ve seen what I am. There’s nothing to feast on.”
“What? I already said I wouldn't harm you. I was the one who rescued you, remember?” The siren’s hands fidgeted in front of his chest. “I’m not going to throw you back. Captain Beidou would never let me, anyway. You’re safe here, I promise.”
After a moment of silence, the siren sighed and held a bandaged hand out in front of him. “Let’s start over. My name is Kaedehara Kazuha. It’s a pleasure to meet you…?”
Scaramouche didn’t grace that with a response. Kaedehara chuckled nervously.
“May I have the honor of learning your name?”
The puppet rolled his eyes and sat up, ignoring Kaedehara’s outstretched hand. Was Scaramouche even an appropriate name for him anymore? The Doctor betrayed him, he betrayed the Fatui, and they left him for dead in the middle of the ocean.
…yet for some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to ignore those sad eyes staring right through him.
“Scaramouche,” he said finally. “Call me Scaramouche for now.”
Kaedehara echoed his name, testing it on his tongue with a huge grin on his face. “What a beautiful name– or is it a title?”
“It was both, in a way– not that it matters now. Without the Fatui, that name holds no meaning.” Scaramouche leaned against the wall. “I suppose that’s fitting for me.”
“Perhaps we can give it a new meaning,” Kaedehara suggested, “or even come up with something new to call you. If you’d like, that is.”
“Whatever,” Scaramouche said breathlessly. “If you won’t kill me, and you won’t drop me back in the ocean, I don’t have much of a choice.”
Kaedehara’s eyes widened at that. Before he could get another word in, his head snapped over to the door, where a muscular woman stood leaning against the frame.
“One day I’ll sneak up on you,” the woman teased. She ran a hand through the brown bangs covering her brightly-covered eyepatch. “I wanna talk to our guest here. Mind stepping out for a bit?”
“Can’t I stay, Beidou?” Kaedehara pleaded.
“I don’t know…” She tilted her head to Scaramouche. “Want privacy, or nah?”
Scaramouche merely shrugged. It didn’t make a difference to him. He had nothing to hide– quite literally in his current state of undress. This Beidou person, probably the captain, didn’t seem to care about his physiology anyway. Hopefully that was a calculated decision and not reckless compassion for inhumans. That would be a pain to deal with.
Beidou pulled a crate from the corner and made herself comfortable on top of it. “Alright then. I’d wager you already know what I want to ask.”
“Uh-huh.” Scaramouche idly tugged on his bangs. He missed his hat. Without it, his emotions—or lack thereof—were on full display for everyone to see. All he could do was duck his head and hope the shadows from his bangs would do the trick.
“You know where we found you, yeah?” Beidou leaned back and pulled one leg up on top of the box. “Do me a favor. I need to know I made the right decision by taking you in.”
He scoffed. “You’ll get no reassurance from me. If it makes you feel better, the Harbingers themselves gave me a proper sendoff. I have no loyalty to them anymore.” Scaramouche avoided any mention of himself being a Harbinger, though he wasn’t entirely sure why. He didn’t care, did he?
Even with his minimal information, Beidou seemed wary. Like she couldn’t decide how much to trust his word.
Good, he thought, throw me back to the depths.
“If I may,” Kaedehara spoke up, “his first words to me were asking to be thrown back overboard. I don’t sense anything harmful about him, aside from any self-destructive ideals.”
“I’m not going to throw myself off. Not unless you want me too.” Scaramouche muttered. “I’d gladly jump overboard if you expect me to work for my place here.”
“Geez, kid.” Beidou shook her head. “There’s no need for all that. If you were human, we’d have you on bedrest right about now. I mean, you’re welcome to join the crew if you want. Otherwise, we can drop you off at our next stop. Mondstadt’s port is about a day or so away.”
“That’s fine.” Scaramouche curled in on himself. He wished this cot had a blanket, or at least something to cover his vulnerable form. Kaedehara must have noticed, because he quickly stood up and began sorting through a barrel next to Beidou.
Why couldn’t he just say it? Just a few words and Scaramouche could guarantee their scorn. That was what he wanted, wasn’t it? If not even the Tsaritsa could trust him, surely a crew of humans wouldn’t take their chances.
…what did he want?
“We dried your clothes off. We can also see if you fit into any of our spare clothing.” Kaedehara smiled, holding out a pile consisting of his undershirt, trousers, and boots. “For now, take this.”
Scaramouche lifted his head for the first time since Beidou’s arrival. He did not look Kaedehara in the eyes.
“You look disappointed,” was all he said.
The siren froze in horror. “I’m– I’m deeply sorry. When we thought you were human, we– you were so wet and–”
“How long was I out?” Scaramouche raised a brow.
The room went silent, which was enough to confirm he’d been unclothed for longer than necessary. Kaedehara’s cheeks flushed as red as his wings, which was genuinely impressive. Scaramouche couldn’t decide if he was offended or flattered.
“Welp–” Beidou made a show of getting up on her feet “—I think that’s my cue to head out. Goodnight, you two!”
With her gone, Scaramouche was alone with the least threatening predator he’d ever met. He smirked at the dumbfounded siren, finally taking the time to admire his flushed cheeks. He had no idea what could be so interesting to Kaedehara. He was a puppet, a blank slate so to speak.
Whatever, he might as well have some fun while he’s stuck here. “Looks like it’s just you and me.”
Kaedehara’s wings rustled behind him. “I can leave.”
“Do what you want. I’ll just sleep in this gross cabin, I guess.”
“Puppets need sleep?” Kaedehara blinked, then seemed to realize the stupidity of his question. “Oh. Sorry, nevermind.”
“Technically I don’t.” Scaramouche huffed. He grabbed his clothes and began to dress himself, not really caring if Kaedehara stared or not. “Judging by your silence earlier, I’ll guess you kept me asleep for quite a while.”
“I–”
“Don’t. Don’t bother.” Scaramouche tied his shirt, still leaving it a bit loose for comfort. And for Kaedehara. Mostly for comfort. “I don’t care. If you really wanna make it up to me, keep me company tonight. Humans are boring when they’re asleep.”
“Well… if you’re getting sick of this cabin, I may have a second option for you…”
“Spit it out already.”
Kaedehara held his palm out. “Trust me?”
Scaramouche couldn’t believe it. They’d hardly known each other for a day and a siren was enamored by him, begging for his trust.
The worst part was: Scaramouche did trust him. He had nothing to lose. Kaedehara Kazuha was an enigma, possibly stranger than any of his former coworkers, and for some reason it was charming. His apparent attraction to this complete stranger was more genuine than any emotion he’d felt since… well, since joining the Fatui.
He took the siren’s hand without hesitation and allowed himself to be dragged up to the deck. With the sun down, the entire crew was settling into bed by now. It was just Scaramouche, Kazuha, and the open seas.
Kazuha stopped in the middle of the deck and turned around with a sly smile on his face. “You ready?”
“Ready for wha–”
Before he could finish, Kazuha pulled Scaramouche into a tight embrace and flapped his wings, sending them both into the air. Scaramouche cried out in alarm and dug his fingers into Kazuha’s back.
“Sorry,” Kazuha said with a chuckle. He landed gracefully on the crows nest and lowered Scaramouche’s feet to the surface.
“You’re insane!”
“What’s insane about it? Flight is second nature to me.” Kazuha tilted his head innocently, smirking.
“Not to me!” Scaramouche shouted. “What was that for, anyway?! I could have climbed up myself.”
“I wanted it to be a surprise.”
Scaramouche gave him an incredulous look. Kazuha ignored him and sat down, leaning against the wooden support beams. He tucked his wings around him like a blanket and gestured for Scaramouche to sit as well.
“You really sleep up here?”
“Most nights, yes. I find it comforting.”
Scaramouche found that hard to believe.The two of them could hardly stand without brushing against each other, much less sit.
He shuffled his legs, trying to give Kazuha the courtesy of personal space. “I guess it’d be less cramped without me here.”
“Is that a problem?”
Admittedly, this space was much smaller than the Fatui’s had ever been. He rarely bothered to come up, but sometimes Dottore invited him to observe. It was a hobby of his, watching underlings from the safety of his nest, like a bird of prey waiting to strike.
Scaramouche should have known he’d be the prey.
Kazuha’s feathers tickled Scaramouche’s arms, despite both their efforts to keep their distance. His wings hardly fit in this cramped space. For whatever reason, Scaramouche couldn’t find it in him to care. Unlike Dottore, Kazuha was no bird of prey. There was nothing to fear.
He was safe.
“...no.” Scaramouche shook his head. “It’s not a problem.”
“That’s good.” Kazuha smiled. “I’ve never invited someone up here with me before.”
“With the way you invited me, I think your entire crew should be grateful.” Scaramouche snorted.
“It wasn’t that bad, was it? I was actually able to fly straight without you squirming!”
“Do you blame me for panicking the first time you grabbed me?” Scaramouche shook his head, smiling. “By the way… that song you sang—from when you first rescued me—what was it?”
“The… oh!” Kazuha blinked. He pulled his scarf over his flushed face. “If you were imagining something memorable, I’m sorry to disappoint. It was just a sea shanty the Crux sang the night before. It got stuck in my head, so it was the first thing I thought of in my panic. It’s incredibly common, actually. I’m surprised you didn’t recognize it.”
“You did happen to alter my mind that night,” Scaramouche teased, then stopped himself when he caught Kazuha’s frown. Was that too far?
“Uh, I wouldn’t have known it anyway. The Fatui doesn’t really do sea shanties. They’re all work and no play,” Scaramouche said. He smirked. “Hell, I used to flog new recruits for trying to start a shanty. That shit always pissed me off.”
Kazuha chuckled. Scaramouche froze, realizing how close he was to revealing his position. Fortunately, that wasn’t Kazuha’s concern at the moment. He began to withdraw from his hiding place under his scarf and wings. “Why the sudden interest in my song?”
Scaramouche stuttered, caught off-guard by Kazuha’s priorities. It took him a minute to even process the question, let alone an answer.
“I mean, I’d still be floating in the ocean if not for that song. Figured I’d ask.” Scaramouche wrapped his arms around himself. “I also thought maybe you could…”
“I could…?”
“Nevermind. It’s stupid.” Scaramouche suddenly became very interested in the floor. “I was going to ask if you could sing it for me again–” he scoffed “–but if it’s just a stupid sea shanty, then forget it!”
Kazuha giggled at his response and Scaramouche basked in the approval, glowing in the warmth of Kazuha’s fond gaze. Much to his disappointment, Kazuha’s warmth faded as quickly as it came. His laughter died down and his expression sobered. “It’s alright. I don’t… I don’t really sing, anyway.”
“What?” Scaramouche’s brows knit together. He glanced up and studied Kazuha’s expression, then shook his head in disbelief. “What are you talking about? You sang for me.”
“That was different.”
“My life wasn’t in danger,” he pointed out. “I can’t drown.”
“I didn’t know that. And all things considered, floating eternally in the ocean isn’t really ‘living.’” Kazuha brushed his hand against his own feathers. “Do you not consider your life saved?”
Do I? For once, the answer came to him rather quickly. One look at Kazuha’s fragile figure told him all he needed to know.
“Fine, point taken.” Scaramouche tapped his fingers against the wooden planks. “Anyway if you really don’t wanna sing, I won’t push. I guess it would be hard to come up with a non-shitty song on the spot.”
“You’d be surprised,” Kazuha replied. “When I’m not worried for someone’s life, my selection used to be quite…” he trailed off.
Scaramouche tilted his head. Whatever was going through Kazuha’s mind, he clearly didn’t want to talk about it. Or maybe he did, he just didn’t know how.
“I wasn’t trying to make fun of you or anything. I genuinely wanted to hear.” Scaramouche paused for a moment, then sighed. He might as well offer some of his own past. “I think it’s because you remind me of an old friend. Your face, your hair– and especially your voice. He wasn’t a siren like you are, yet the resemblance is uncanny.”
Kazuha’s eyes lingered on his face. “You know… when we first rescued you, I dried you off from the seawater. I thought I dried your face off, but it just kept getting wet.”
Oh.
“I was hoping you wouldn’t have noticed that old habit. That’s why I choose not to sleep.” Scaramouche tugged on his bangs. “It was actually kinda cathartic. Aside from the whole Fatui bullshit, of course.”
Kazuha chewed his lip. “I can sing again. For you.”
“What? You don’t have to–”
“I want to!” Kazuha insisted. “If it’ll make you happy, I want to try. The moment one of us feels uncomfortable, I can stop and we’ll forget it ever happened.”
“Kazuha, I wasn’t telling you all that to convince you.” Scaramouche hesitated. He had no hope of winning this argument, did he? Kazuha’s scarlet eyes were blazing with conviction. He needed his– or at least thought he did.
Reluctantly, Scaramouche gave in. “At least promise you’ll stop for yourself if you need to?”
“I promise.”
“Then it’s settled.” Scaramouche took a deep breath and shifted to face Kazuha directly. They were still a bit cramped in the crow’s nest. He had to lean his head in order to see Kazuha’s face around the mast.
Kazuha waited until Scaramouche was ready. Scaramouche gave a nod of approval and held Kazuha’s hand tightly.
After a deep breath, Kazuha let out a breath and began to hum. It was a different melody from last time, thankfully, and Scaramouche almost thought he recognized it. Before he could piece it together, Kazuha’s alluring voice slid past his ears and filled his mind with fog. It didn’t matter whether he recognized the song anymore. The world seemed to still; time stopped to allow Scaramouche the pleasure of this siren’s beautiful song.
All that mattered was this moment.
The siren closed its eyes as it continued to sing, which made Scaramouche a bit sad. He could’ve stared into those beautiful crimson eyes for an eternity. The longer the song went on, the more Scaramouche drifted away, losing himself– relishing in the melody. He shifted to his knees and leaned forward, closing the gap between him and the object of his desires.
Closer… I have to get closer…
He wanted to kiss the siren, but he wouldn’t dare interrupt his song. He was practically on top of him at this point, lips parted and staring at that stunning face. Under the soft glow of the moonlight, the siren’s cheeks glistened with…
Tears?
Scaramouche blinked and shook his head. He swayed on his knees, struggling to think clearly through the song.
“Ka…Kazuha…” Scaramouche’s words dripped from his slack jaw like molasses. He tried again, this time reaching up to wipe the tears from Kazuha’s woeful eyes.
Kazuha’s eyes snapped open; he stopped singing immediately. A panicked expression crossed his tear-stricken face. “What’s wrong? Scaramouche, are you okay?”
“Ugh…” Scaramouche shook his head to clear his thoughts and held a hand to his head. “I’m… I’m fine, dumbass. You’re the one crying.”
Kazuha gasped quietly. He lifted a bandaged hand to his wet cheek. “Ah, it appears I am.”
“You didn’t even notice?” Scaramouche let out a disapproving chuckle. “What am I going to do with you?”
Kazuha rested his head against the edge of the crows nest. “Apologies for ruining the moment. I hope you enjoyed it while it lasted...”
“I did until you started crying, you big dolt. If I’d known you wouldn’t be able to handle even looking at me, I would’ve called the idea off from the start.” Scaramouche rolled his eyes and scooted closer to pat Kazuha on the shoulder. “If you thought I was that ugly, you coulda said so earlier.”
“No, no! It’s not you.” Kazuha’s voice grew softer with each word. He drew his knees in and curled up on himself, wings shuffling behind him. With Scaramouche so close, he couldn’t adjust to drape himself in his feathers. “It’s… you’re not the first person who’s asked to hear my voice.”
“Oh.”
“Don’t worry, he’s long gone. I’m all yours.” Kazuha chuckled. “To make a long story short, I met him before I joined the Crux. He loved me for who I was, siren or not. He was always complimenting my voice– not just my singing abilities, but anything that came from my mouth. The noises I made at him when he woke me up, the way I laughed when he did something ridiculous…”
Scaramouche squeezed Kazuha’s hand. “Sounds like he’d get along with Niwa.”
“Niwa…” Kazuha muttered. “Was he the one you mentioned earlier?”
Scaramouche nodded. “I said you looked identical, but the more I think about it, the less true that seems. Your facial features are the same, as well as the red hair. Everything else… he was completely different.”
“I see.”
“Not in a bad way, mind you,” he quickly added. “If I’m not allowed to be jealous, then neither are you. You’re charming enough just the way you are and Niwa kicked the bucket centuries ago.”
Scaramouche chuckled at the light gasp that escaped Kazuha’s lips. “What? It’s true. I’m over it by now, I swear. He was just some blacksmith who took me in. He died when the Fatui besieged his village. The end.”
“You suddenly speak as though he means nothing to you. Is it bad that we look alike?” Kazuha wiped the lingering tears from his face.
“No, Niwa was fucking beautiful.” Scaramouche retorted, causing Kazuha to choke. He smirked proudly and waited a moment for Kazuha to collect himself.
“I’m flattered,” Kazuha said. “I hope my presence doesn’t bring unwanted memories back. Or–” he stopped himself and frowned. “Perhaps you’re only tolerating me because of our resemblance…”
Immediately, Scaramouche leaned forward and cupped Kazuha’s face in his hands. He squished Kazuha’s cheeks and planted a soft kiss on his forehead.
“Tolerate?” Scaramouche laughed at the idea. “I do far more than tolerate you, Kazuha. We’ve known each other for a day and I'd worship the ground you walk. I’d pray to the air you fly in and sing your name to the Heavenly Principles. I’d even denounce the archons if it meant proving my affection for you.”
He felt Kazuha’s face growing warm in his hands. He couldn’t resist it, he leaned in again and kissed Kazuha’s forehead again, then his cheeks, and all over his head and neck until Kazuha was a giggling, blushing mess.
“Scaramouche!” Kazuha cried out, grinning from ear-to-ear. “Are you sure my powers don’t have any lingering effects on you?”
“We both know that’s not how that works,” Scaramouche said. Kazuha tried to hide his face in his scarf but Scaramouche was quicker. He tilted Kazuha’s chin up to face his adoring smile.
I’ve already committed blasphemy against two gods. What’s a few more?
No, he couldn’t say that. Not now.
Kazuha leaned into Scaramouche’s touch, letting out a deep, shaky exhale.
“I’ve always hated my powers. I greatly value freedom, so the idea of forcing my will upon humans… it makes me deeply uneasy.”
Scaramouche brushed Kazuha’s bangs out of his eyes and nodded for him to keep going.
“It took me a while to be comfortable enough to sing for my friend. Even then, I could never come to terms with it. He always assured he was willing– that his affection and adoration were genuine. He believed that my powers simply… allowed him to act on his feelings. But that’s not how that works! Just about anyone would drop to their knees for me if they heard me.”
“Can’t both be true?” Scaramouche asked.
Kazuha blinked. “What… do you mean?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I mean, some people would definitely be unwilling,” Scaramouche admitted, “but if a person is already willing to love you, who’s to say some of their actions aren’t genuine?”
“That’s–” Kazuha shook his head. “No one in their right mind would fall in love with a siren.”
“Seems to me you’ve caught two hearts already.” Scaramouche tapped his own chest. Kazuha didn’t need to know about his lack of a literal heart. Not yet.
“I suppose…”
“Either way, that’s not exactly a big sample size. We can’t know for sure that love doesn’t impact the effects of a siren’s song.” Scaramouche nudged Kazuha’s shoulder and stood up. He extended a hand.
Kazuha reluctantly took his hand and allowed Scaramouche to pull him to his feet.
“How about we get down from here? Clearly neither of us are going to sleep, so we don’t need to sit in this cramped thing. It’s not like anyone else is awake to bother us.” Scaramouche raised a brow, watching Kazuha consider. “Come on, don’t make me climb down myself.”
“I thought you didn’t like my flying.” Kazuha chuckled. Despite his words, he held Scaramouche close and spread his wings. “I promise I’ll be gentle.”
True to his word, Kazuha’s glide down was much smoother than their previous ascent. Scaramouche let out a breath of relief and released his death-grip on Kazuha’s waist. He laced his fingers into Kazuha’s bandaged hand and clasped his shoulder with the other.
“Now what?” Kazuha asked.
Scaramouche silently guided Kazuha’s free hand to his waist, then leaned in close to whisper in his ear, “dance with me?”
“With no music?” Kazuha playfully pushed Scaramouche’s face away. “That doesn’t seem very romantic.”
“An empty deck, clear skies, a full moon– that’s not romantic enough for you?” Scaramouche teased. “If it bothers you so much, I could sing something.”
“What if someone sees us?”
“And do what? Tattle on us for staying up past bedtime?”
Kazuha stifled a laugh. “I just wouldn’t want to bother anyone.”
“It’d be their problem for coming up here so late. And if you’re worried about rumors, I’ll kill them if they say anything.”
“You can’t do that!”
“Then I guess you’ll have to be brave.” Scaramouche pulled Kazuha’s arm up and spun him around, then dipped him into a brief kiss on the lips. “So what am I singing? Forgotten Inazuman folk songs, or Snezhnayan lullabies?”
Kazuha wiggled in Scaramouche’s inhumanly strong grasp. “Aha– Snezhnayan doesn’t seem appropriate, considering what you’ve been through.”
Scaramouche shrugged and brought Kazuha back to his feet. “Figured I’d ask.”
He settled for the folk songs, mostly humming or singing under his breath. It was enough to keep a rhythm going in their clumsy dancing, and that’s really all that mattered. They lost track of time like this, spinning and swaying in the moonlight. Their only witnesses would be the open sea, the moon, and the heavens themselves.
Scaramouche went through several songs, sometimes switching in the middle if he couldn’t remember the ending. It wasn’t as though Kazuha would know the difference. The poor fool couldn’t go five seconds without stepping on Scaramouche’s toes.
After their tenth time stumbling, Scaramouche stopped singing to mutter, “for a siren, you’re pretty clumsy.”
Kazuha pouted. “Human customs weren’t exactly a priority in my childhood education.”
“What a shame. I’m a terrible teacher.”
As the night went on, Kazuha grew more and more comfortable following Scaramouche’s lead. Before he even realized it, he began to hum along to Scaramouche’s songs. Scaramouche held him tight as they slowed and stepped together in soft, simple motions. Kazuha met Scaramouche’s eyes, only realizing the effect of his powers when he saw the sleepy, dazed look on his partner’s face. He faltered.
Kazuha’s pensive expression broke through Scaramouche’s trance. He offered a weak smile, followed by a heavy blink. “I’m okay,” he promised, “keep going.”
To further encourage him, Scaramouche continued humming. His footsteps fell into a comfortable, automatic motion. After a minute or so, Kazuha shut his eyes tight and followed Scaramouche’s lead in both song and dance.
Scaramouche’s humming remained consistent. Every now and then, he squeezed Kazuha’s hand or gave him a peck on the cheek, just to prove his awareness. Slowly, Kazuha allowed himself to meet Scaramouche’s gaze and take in the smitten look on his face.
It was genuine. There was no doubt about it. Despite the clear fog in his mind, Scaramouche’s expressions and actions expressed nothing more than pure, unyielding devotion. Kazuha couldn’t deny it any longer: Scaramouche was utterly and truly in love with him, and Kazuha returned the feelings.
Scaramouche was as beautiful as ever. Seeing him in this state, with his inhibitions lowered and his mind more suggestible, Kazuha felt a shiver of pleasure run down his spine. Scaramouche would do anything for him, even without the siren charms. If Kazuha asked him to enact blasphemy, he’s sure Scaramouche would love every second of it.
Much like all good things, their moonlit night eventually came to an end. As the sun rose in the sky, Kazuha glanced across the horizon to see landmass in the distance. He frowned, remembering that Scaramouche would be dropped off at the nearest port.
Scaramouche ruffled Kazuha’s hair. “What’s that look for? You can fly, ya know. You can always come visit me.”
“I could.” Kazuha anxiously shifted his wings behind him. ‘Actually… I’ve long since paid my debt to Captain Beidou. Perhaps it’s time I explore the world for myself again.”
“Oh?” Scaramouche smirked. “Can’t get enough of me, can you?”
“You already know the answer to that.” Kazuha smiled. “I’d be delighted to join you, wherever the wind leads us– if that’s alright with you, of course.”
“I can’t think of anything I’d want more.”
Behind them, the rising sun illuminated the deck, waking the sleeping pirates below. Soon enough, the heavy steps of Captain Beidou came marching up to the surface. She stepped into the sunlight and yawned. “Good morning, Kazuha.” She blinked, then nodded to Scaramouche as well.
Before Kazuha could respond, Scaramouche pulled him close and pressed their lips together. He squirmed, only for Scaramouche to lower him into a dip and make a show of making out in front of the captain. Kazuha whined into Scaramouche’s mouth, unable to resist reciprocating the affection.
Much to his relief, all Beidou did was burst into laughter.
“It’s only been a day!” she scolded playfully. “Geez, I was worried you’d spend the entire trip making googoo eyes at each other.”
She could tell? Kazuha’s heart pounded in his chest. He tried to pull away and explain himself to Beidou, but Scaramouche held him in place.
“Alright, alright, you two are cute. Now get your hands—and mouths—off each other before I throw you overboard.”
Finally, Scaramouche pulled Kazuha back up and spun him around, releasing him to stumble dizzily on his own two feet.
“Yes, captain,” Kazuha said between flustered giggles. By the time Kazuha regained his balance, Scaramouche was already making his way below deck with a mischievous smirk on his face.
Oh, Kazuha was gonna get revenge on that cheeky bastard. If not now, they still had an entire journey ahead of them.