like the wind that flows through your hair

𝚇𝚅𝙸𝙸. 𝚃𝙷𝚁𝙴𝙴 𝚃𝙷𝙾𝚄𝚂𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝚃𝙷𝚁𝙴𝙰𝙳𝚂 𝙾𝙵 𝙵𝙰𝚃𝙴

It was a moonless night in Inazuma, but the candles that flickered in the room pierced the gloom.

The striking man's azure eyes shone in the darkness as he touched the gold hairpin adorning the woman's hair slowly, threading his fingers through her silvery tresses.

"Would you like me to continue...sir?" She asked, soft and tentative, taken aback by his sudden shift in aura.

"No, sweetheart." His voice was compelling, yet the unfathomable look in his eyes made her wonder if he even understood her sentence. "Come closer." His kimono fell open at the chest, and his skin was dusted with a drunken blush. He was unbelievably handsome. Every feature fell perfectly into place on his noble face—the kind that no woman would be able to resist. Yet, the air suddenly hung heavily around him. It was stifling. Almost oppressive. His eyes were empty, like no one was there.

She had no choice.

When she lowered her fan and shuffled toward him, the cerulean-haired man leaned in and brushed his cold lips along her neck, white as snow. "Ah... You are so sweet, Ayaka."

A horrified gasp burst from the young woman's lips before she clapped her hands over her mouth. A dreadful epiphany tore through her chest where her heart thundered in fright. It was too late. And now she was going to die.

Kamisato Ayato was jerked from his delirious fantasy at the terrified Geisha's gasp. She had danced so beautifully for him earlier, her snowy hair floating through the air. It reminded him of a certain princess who had his black heart in shackles. However, he cannot let his forbidden secret escape this room.

Tonight, the clouds obscured the galaxies of Teyvat just like the veil of despair that tortured Ayato's mind ever since his sister's marriage. He went through the motions of life like a mechanical Ruin Machine from Khaenri'ah. Sleep evaded him, and food became tasteless. His mind crumbled like parchment paper, and his heart was a plant that wilted in the shadows of an eternal night. The demons that haunted him after their parents' death were resurfacing, whispering at him to shut down. Abandon the shred of humanity that caused him such pain and give in to the chaos.

His eyes were bottomless pits in his skull. As he slowly succumbed to this hell, his hand reached for his katana–

"Milord! Lord Kamisato!"

The Commissioner swore and sheathed his weapon moments before Thoma barged in, out of breath and frantic. The pyro wielder quickly knelt on one knee respectfully.

"Forgive my intrusion, sir. There has been an attack in the West. The Fatui are closing in on the Watatsumi Army. I'm afraid—"

"I'm on my way." Without missing a beat, Ayato was on his feet. "Fetch my armor."

On his way out, he paused and murmured something in Thoma's ear, glancing at the fearful Geisha. Thoma's eyes widened, but he did not dare question the Commissioner's orders. Instead, he nodded once in acknowledgement.

After armoring up and teleporting to Watatsumi Island in record time with backup flanking him, Ayato charged toward the battlefield with an unprecedented bloodthirst. His sword flashed through the air as Fatui soldiers fell like flies before him. General Gorou was holding his own, and Ayato's arrival was accompanied by such ferocity that the tables soon began to turn.

A Geochanter Bracer shot crystal shards at Ayato which he deflected with his blade. Geo. The sight of that unsavory element flooded him with rage. He roared as sprinted towards the Skirmisher while dodging his attacks. The enemy could barely react before Ayato plunged his sword into his chest, ripping him apart. Death was the only thing on the Commissioner's mind. He was so consumed by the storm raging inside him that he did not notice the Pyroslinger's gunshots flying towards him from the right until it was too late. The impact sent him toppling backwards, reeling with pain and clutching his bloody shoulder and side.