Chapter Text
There is a puppet kneeling in the Tenshukaku.
“Creator,” she says, back bowed low, her posture perfect though this is not an action Ei ever programmed into her. “I have come to ask for your aid.”
There is a Geo vision in Sumeran casing pinned beneath the puppet’s throat. Ei stares down from her throne and, for the longest moment, cannot find her voice at all.
*
In the months since the puppet shogun’s departure from Inazuma and Ei’s emergence from her meditation in the Plane of Euthymia, there has been much for Ei to adjust to. It is the understatement of the century to say that she does not do well with change, but she has been trying. There is no one left to try in her stead.
Miko has been an invaluable aid in this, informing Ei of so many important things she has missed over the centuries, including what became of the puppets she created. Naturally, the two have weighed heavily on Ei's mind after all that transpired.
First, Miko told her about the prototype puppet. Ei was aware it had woken and left Shakkei Pavilion while she was still finalizing the Shogun's creation, and had asked Miko not to interfere with it before retreating to the Plane of Euthymia. But it was news to Ei how he met with misfortune in the world, took on a male identity, devastated the Raiden Gokaden, and became a Fatui Harbinger after departing from Inazuma. Not to mention how he returned to wreak havoc on his homeland and made off with the electro gnosis and the puppet shogun both.
“I don’t understand,” said Ei, staring blankly at Miko. “She was such a gentle thing.” It was one of the reasons why she had laid the prototype to rest in Shakkei instead of tormenting it any longer with burdens it hadn’t truly been meant to bear.
“I’m only telling you what I know,” Miko said. “He would have killed the Traveler if I didn’t exchange the gnosis for their life. I hope you’re not upset with me for the loss of that bauble; I figured you wouldn’t mind much. And, well, the gamble paid off, did it not?”
True, Ei cared little for the loss of the Gnosis; it had always been Makoto’s, and she was never able to bear the thought of taking it up for herself. Its connection to Celestia did not endear it to her either, as any goodwill Ei felt toward them vanished when they allowed her sister to die in their war.
“What does... he intend to do with it?” she asked.
Yae Miko’s eyes glimmered with a vulpine disdain. “Who knows?” she said. “Just so long as he keeps away from Inazuma.”
To think the fragile prototype puppet, who reminded her far too searingly of Makoto to keep close, could have turned into a creature as vicious as the one Miko describes… the news unsettled Ei badly. She was coming around to the idea that some change was inevitable, even necessary, and yet -
No one, she thought, should change that much.
*
There is a reason why, over the centuries, Ei tried to limit the need for the Shogun’s visits to the Plane of Euthymia. Even now, every time Ei is confronted with her own face, some part of her searches instinctively for Makoto within it. She did not expect to see the puppet that bears her likeness again so soon, if ever. But now, after Makoto’s final goodbye, the pain is duller than it once was. An odd pressure, heavy and inescapable, no longer so sharp and twisting.
It helps that the puppet’s hair has been cut, that she is dressed in a simple blue kimono rather than royal purples. The presence of another nation’s vision shatters the illusion entirely.
(What has her puppet been doing since leaving Inazuma that has earned her a vision in so short a time? An acknowledgment from Celestia itself of her autonomy and ambition?)
“Gutsy of you, isn’t it,” says Miko archly from her place at Ei’s side, “to ask a favor after the damage done to this country.”
The puppet does not react openly to the barb, her head dipping minutely lower as she waits for her creator’s judgment. She seems as stable and restrained as she ever was.
“Peace, Miko,” Ei says at last, holding up a hand to stay the kitsune’s tongue. “The fault does not lie solely with the Shogun.” After all, the Kujou clan colluded with the Fatui as well, and it was Ei's absence that allowed them to gain a foothold at all. Miko does not argue, although her eyes narrow slightly. Ei focuses on the puppet kneeling in patient silence. “I will hear your request,” she allows.
The puppet shifts, sitting up from her bow, although she keeps her gaze respectfully low. “You have my gratitude,” she says. “Creator. My request pertains to Scaramouche.”
The name does not immediately mean anything to Ei. Miko, if she ever refers to the first puppet by name, calls him “Kunikuzushi”. It takes Ei a few moments, her head tilted slightly in contemplation, before she places it.
“...The prototype,” she realizes. “What of him?”
The Shogun breathes in deeply before speaking, although she has no need to. “He has been badly damaged,” she says. “His ties to the Fatui are now severed, and there is no one in Sumeru with the knowledge to repair him. Please, Creator - I beg of you to travel to Sumeru and help him.” And the puppet bows low again, the shorn ends of her hair brushing the sleek wood floor.
“Oh please,” Miko scoffs. “Ei owes that creature nothing. It’s for the best if-”
“You care for him.”
Ei’s interruption of Miko is not a reprimand, merely a realization so startling she could not help but voice it.
And at these words, the puppet stiffens, the first visible sign of emotion since she arrived in the grand halls of Tenshukaku.
*
When Ei questioned her about the Shogun, Miko was forced to admit that she had been aware for centuries that it had deviated from its protocols.
“You should have informed me,” Ei said, frowning. Yes, Ei awarded Miko full discretion for dealing with threats to Inazuma when she retreated to the Plane of Euthymia, and perhaps Miko did not consider this puppet a threat. But given how scathingly she speaks of what Kunikuzushi chose to do with his freedom, Ei thought Miko would have told her if something was wrong with the Shogun.
“I…” Miko hesitated- a true rarity for her. Then she turned half-away from Ei with a moody shrug. “Perhaps I should have. It was selfish of me, I suppose.”
Selfish how, Ei wondered.
But before she could ask, Miko continued, “...She feared you, you know,” in a voice as light as though they were speaking of the weather, though there was a subtle flavor of bitterness to it as she went on, “But then, I did tell her she should.”
Ei frowned harder. “Why would you do such a thing?” she asked.
Even Yae Miko, ever-present at her side, had changed in Ei’s absence. The kitsune had always toyed with people like prey, but this sounded excessively cruel. Miko did not answer directly, only shrugged again and said, “Was she wrong to? You did away with so many others.”
When she thought about it, Ei had to admit she was not sure what she would have done if she had discovered early on that her creation no longer adhered to its design. Her grief had made her callous and unreasonable at times; it wasn't only for her own benefit that she had chosen to retreat to the Plane of Euthymia and rule by proxy. There was a real possibility that Ei may have destroyed the puppet, or at the very least tucked her away like the prototype before her. And yet the idea of the Shogun suffering in silence was uncomfortable to her. She had never intended to torment either of her creations, but it seems in both cases, her good intentions met an ignoble death against the messy unpredictability of reality.
Why, she wondered, could she not get it right? She had been so sure the puppet shogun would be stable in her programming. Ei bears her no ill will, and had decided right away that the least she could do was grant the Shogun the same freedom and lack of interference she did Kunikuzushi, but... it was still frustrating. Ei shook her head, trying to move on. “Speak, Miko. What did you mean when you said it was ‘selfish’?”
“Who else would I torment if she wasn’t around?” Miko said airily.
“Miko.”
“Maybe I pitied her; she already missed you so much,” Miko threw out, insincerely enough that Ei knew she was not going to get a straight answer out of her.
Ei felt a twinge; Miko used to be so much more forthcoming with her. But maybe that was only to be expected, as she knew she’d been truly unfair to her, too. The puppets' behavior puzzled her far more. Kunikuzushi felt abandoned by her and began to hate her. The Shogun both feared her and… missed her?
“Why… why were they both so affected by me and what I would think of them?” Ei asked.
Miko pinched the bridge of her nose. “Listen, Ei,” she said. “I don’t think you owe them anything after all the trouble they caused you, but they didn’t just spawn into the world one day like you and I did; you created them.” She looked expectantly at Ei, and when her brow only furrowed in confusion, Miko blew out a gusty sigh. “You have two children, Ei,” she spelled out. “They see you as a mother.”
Ei recoiled from the notion. She had never intended nor wanted to become a mother, and could not begin to know how even if she had. She and Makoto had raised themselves, wild as fae, sustained by the elemental forces they were born from.
“That can’t be right,” she said helplessly. “Miko - don’t joke - “
“Unfortunately, Ei dear,” Miko sighed, “I’ve never been more serious in my life.”
*
You care for him. Ei feels something like wonder at the thought. The Shogun has ceased breathing, her hands curling into fists against the polished floor.
Since her arrival, the Shogun has been nearly indistinguishable from the way Ei remembers her. Her changed appearance, including the presence of her own Vision, should have been evidence enough that she is not the same. But it is different to see active, undeniable proof that, much like the prototype before her, this puppet has thoughts and feelings of her own, a personality separate from Ei’s. Looking down at her, Ei thinks of her own missing rib, the one she removed and placed in the puppet’s chest, fused to the white Irminsul wood that comprises the rest of her bones. It forges a link between them, allowing their minds to connect at theoretically any distance. Even now, Ei could effortlessly assume control of the puppet should she wish to do so.
The puppet knows all this. It must take immense bravery to return to the creator who holds such power over her and ask for a boon. It is the kind of bravery that could come only from love.
Indeed, after a moment the puppet raises her head and, for the first time since her return, looks her creator square in the eye. Her eyes blaze with determination, and her voice is strong and clear as she says, “Yes. I do care for him.”
The feeling that roots in Ei’s chest is impossible to describe. The puppet before her is not simply one creation speaking on behalf of another. From the passion in the puppet’s voice, from the intensity of her gaze, Ei reads the truth: this is a sister, seeking aid for her brother. Ei cannot help but think of Makoto, whose first use of the Gnosis’ power was to form Ei’s body anew. Ei has inscribed this history onto the world again, hasn’t she? A sibling willing to do anything to help the other, even at risk of her own destruction.
Between the two of them, Makoto was known as the more emotional one. She was spontaneous and expressive, and she wore her heart on her sleeve. But Makoto used to tease Ei about her hidden depths. While Ei’s emotions came slowly, came quietly, they were no less intense; in the end, she was led no less by her heart.
Before she knows it, before she has the chance to ask for clarification or even truly consider the ramifications of leaving her own nation, the words slip from Ei’s lips:
“I shall accept your request.”