Hello all!

So yeah... remember that tag 'it gets worse before it gets better'?
Well... here we go with that! Fair warning, this one gets ANGSTY- like... all the angst. I was crying while writing it and I don't think the AUTHOR who CONTROLS the story (hah- control, I have no control over what these guys do) should be tearing up from writing it. So yeah.

There are lots of POV shifts from Thoma to Ayaka but hopefully you'll be able to follow along without too much trouble. If any part of this chapter is confusing or hard to read please please PLEASE don't hesitate to tell me in the comments down below. I have no quandary with making edits based off of reader suggestions.

Shoutouts to: whystillmeman, raf515, Emeraldity123, keyking24 for favoriting!

Shoutouts to: Kyred, LinaVera, DegenerateWeeb, JackySJones, TheBlueAmethyst, and Emeraldity123 for following!

(EDIT: Sorry about that- FF . net didn't update those lists for some reason? But I checked my emails cuz something felt off. Thanks all for supporting the story!)

Enjoy!
-Ardoa88

(Also- there will be an update regarding the posting of the final chapter at the end!)

Chapter 3: One Restless Night

Time passes quickly. In a stark contrast to the way it had dragged itself slowly through the hours surrounding the vision hunt ceremony, the light outside now darkens rapidly from a royal blue to a deep indigo as the sun sinks behind the distant horizon. In the interim, Ayaka formulates a letter to Gorou, sealing the scroll with black wax and impressing her clan's ring into the center of the amorphous solid before sending the raven with haste. She hopes the resistance general receives her message in time, hopes he will agree to assist them despite the risks.

With that completed, she moves onto the next task, which is to help the Traveller prepare for their departure. Kozue brings them tea throughout the early evening as Ayaka details the journey, making marks on the Traveller's map: highlighting areas to avoid and pointing out secret routes that cut through the underlayer of Inazuma's layered landscape. The traveller listens attentively while Paimon flits around, double checking their belongings and occasionally sneaking extra snacks from the kitchens into their half-full bag.

Under the moonless night, the Traveller leaves, offering a solemn but reassuring smile as Paimon waves goodbye. Ayaka watches as the pair slip out through the servants' back entrance, taking a running leap off the edge of the elevated island, their dark blue windglider unfolding behind them as they head west. Her eyes track them as long as she can, until they too fade into the night. She sends a prayer to the Seven to look over them, to protect them as they embody their namesake and travel through the dangers that lie ahead.

Ayaka then resumes her vigil at Thoma's bedside, humming softly and doing her best to relieve his pain. Though he doesn't wake, Thoma's fever slowly recedes as the evening stretches into the midnight hours, enough to the point where Ayaka can be convinced to lie down herself and rest. She doesn't quite know who it is that finally drags her out of the room, their hands are gentle but firm, and the voice sounds old- like Madam Furuta- as they chuckle, "Come dear, close your eyes and sleep, he will still be here when you wake."

She nods, suddenly realizing how tempting it sounds to lay her head on a pillow. She's barely slept in the past two days and her body is heavy with exhaustion. Even so, she leans over, pressing her lips gently to Thoma's warm forehead before allowing herself to be guided to the room across the hall. Those strong, gentle hands help her lay down onto the futon, and Ayaka barely registers the blanket being pulled up to her shoulders before sleep drags her into oblivion.

She doesn't dream, which is a blessing in and of itself, but it leaves her confused when her eyes fly open with an unusual abruptness. It's dark in her room, enough to tell her that the night is not yet through, and she frowns up at the ceiling, mind working to put together a puzzle without all of the pieces.

There's the sound of a teacup smashing against the wall, followed quickly by a violent cry that rips through the air and simultaneously steals all the breath from her lungs as she sits up. Ayaka knows that sound, knows that agonized scream and it tears her heart in half hearing it again.

Thoma.

The water is blue this time.

Hang on… this time? Thoma frowns at the absurd notion- the water's always been blue. A sort of iridescent aquamarine that glitters like anemo crystalflies in the early morning sunlight. It was a quiet day, the kind of day where you could look up at the sky for hours upon hours without once getting bored. And so Thoma does, raising his jade green eyes to admire the fluffy clouds hanging in the open air above them. The tip of his fishing rod bobs gently, and Thoma's gaze is drawn to the motion, watching carefully as it dips lightly a few times before bowing drastically.

"Looks like you got a bite!" The comment comes from somewhere behind him, a deep sonorous voice that fills the silence to the fullest, words tinged with a smile that he couldn't see.

"I know, Dad." Thoma's own voice sounds higher than normal, and he feels himself rolling his eyes as he pulls back on the rod.

Despite the indignant tone, he can hear the full chested chuckle as a hand reaches down to ruffle his short hair, "Of course you do- O'Mighty Fisherman of Mondstadt!"

"Da-ad!" Thoma feels his cheeks heat with embarrassment as he ducks out from under the intruding appendage, the motion at war with his heart which yearns to stay there in that moment forever. The retreat only earns another laugh from his father, a sound Thoma knows he hasn't heard in years but one he can't soon forget.

The fish on the end of his line nearly jerks the rod out of his hand, and Thoma focuses all of his concentration on reeling it in. It's a hard fight, rocking their small two-person dinghy and sending short waves lapping out on the otherwise mirror-like surface of Cider Lake. He has to let the line back out twice during the struggle, the little waves slowly growing larger, and by the time he finally pulls in his prize there's the distinct smell of salt on the breeze.

"A double catch!" There's surprise in the words, surprise and awe as Thoma reels up his hook which- sure enough- has two black bass wriggling on the end of it. A large hand lands itself on his shoulder, one that's calloused from years of working the rough ropes of a sail. "Nice job kid! You've got a real skill for this kinda thing."

Thoma turns with a smile, but it's not his dad standing behind him anymore; and the sudden change is like a shock of cold water being dumped down his back. His heart aches with a familiar longing at the loss, and his chest feels abruptly hollow- a distinct emptiness filling the place where he stores the memories of his childhood.

The first mate grins back even as Thoma's own joy wanes, the scruffy-bearded man easily unhooks the two fish and tosses them into the barrel behind him that's already half full with various other scaly sea life. It's a normal routine for them while out at sea, catching fresh food for the day to stave off the need to eat the cold, tasteless rations that would be waiting for them if the fish didn't bite.

The first mate whips his own line back out into the rolling waves, sending Thoma a side look and a wink. "If you keep that up we'll be done before midday!" The sailor laughs, the sound crusty and dry from their time out at sea but no less genuine.

Thoma looks back down at the barrel, eyes lingering on what would've been a nice, hearty midday and evening meal. If only they'd been given the time to eat it. He raises his head to look at the sky, and even though the air is clear, he knows the storm is coming.

He didn't back then.

"...have to drink something to keep up your strength…"

Thoma blinks at the voice, frowning. It sounded much older than the first mate but... they were the only two on the deck right now. He turns his head towards the man. "Sorry, did you- uh, say something?"

"I asked if you wanted a drink, lad- it's hot enough out here to burn the scales off of Haishan itself."

"O-Oh, sure, a drink sounds nice." Thoma accepts readily, silently agreeing with the sailor about the heat. Even in only his undershirt the sun was relentless, beating down on his brow and searing into the back of his neck that had been left exposed when he had tied up the longer strands of his hair. "Thank you."

He takes the proffered waterskin, raising it to his lips and tilting his head back as the liquid soothes his parched throat. Strangely, the water didn't taste like- well, water. It was lukewarm, which was to be expected as they had no way to keep it cold on the ship, but the leathery taste he'd grown accustomed to over the last few days of travel was replaced instead by a subtle sweetness. He can't quite pin down the flavors, but it reminds him of pink petaled flowers, and purple leaves on white barked branches; even though he knows he's never seen such a tree in Mondstadt. He swallows, then takes another, longer sip, throat bobbing up and down greedily as he realizes just how thirsty he is- it feels like he hasn't drank in days.

Some of the not-water-tasting-water gets caught in his throat and he coughs, the sound rough and grating even to his own ears. He tries to stifle it, but it only gets worse, and Thoma squeezes his eyes shut against the burning pain it brings to his lungs with every shallow breath. He can feel himself doubling over, can feel a hand rubbing gentle circles on his back in a soothing manner.

"Easy there… deep breaths."

Thoma tries to do as instructed, and it's hard to resist the urge to cough with each inhale because his chest is on fire, but eventually the fit recedes, leaving him breathless and exhausted.

"Good job, child. Now, let's try this again…"

The old voice this time sounds further away, and there's a rushing in his ears. It's a tingling sort of static that makes the short hairs on his arm stand on end. And the familiar smell in the air sets his heart racing with fear. He didn't want to look, didn't want to see, but there's a sense of inevitability that has him opening his eyes anyway.

The storm is upon them.

Lightning flashes, bright and blue in the dark folds of the storm clouds that are themselves blacker than the abyss. Thunder rolls across the sky quickly after, torrents of rain descending from the heavens and shrouding the world in a haze of grey. Thoma stands unsteadily as the ship rocks violently beneath him in the clutches of the tsunami. The drenched fabric of his clothes cling to his skin, bangs plastered to his face while his short ponytail whips chaotically in the wind. The sea is no longer calm, surging waves the size of houses rising and breaking over the bow of the ship with the swell of the storm, white foam blanketing the wave caps.

Thoma blinks the rain from his eyes, dashing a hand over them to see the other sailors scurrying about on the deck, looking like drowned rats themselves; quickly tying down coverings that had blown loose or working the ropes of the furled mainsail. He sees the first mate on the quarterdeck, fighting with the wheel as the Captain barks out orders from beside him. The words are snatched away by the winds, but Thoma sees one of the sailors nod, hurrying towards the center mast.

Thoma reaches out with his hand, taking two steps away from the side of the ship with a warning on his lips because he knows what's about to happen. He's tried to stop it so many times, during those nights when the lightning would strike and the rain would pound on the roof tiles, ensuring his sleep would be restless as he relives this moment.

He isn't able to stop it this time either.

The lightning arcs from the sky with a brilliant flash, blinding him as the thunder roared in his ears drowning out everything else. Thoma felt himself get thrown backwards from the force of the strike, head colliding with the side of the deck railing and knocking him unconscious for a brief moment. When he awakens, his ears are ringing and the ship-

The ship is on fire.

Crimson flames dance along the ropes, and the mainsail is entirely engulfed in the orange glow of the firelight that rages in spite of the rain that continues to fall: the very air sizzling as the fire and water collide and vaporize, hissing and spitting into the tumultuous sky. The heat of the flames sears through Thoma's body even at this distance, and he can no longer see the sailor who'd run towards the spot where the lightning had struck, where the deck is now charred a smoky coal black.

There's a loud crack as the mast gives way, and Thoma's eyes widen as it begins to timber towards him, wood splintering while the remaining sailors shout in shock and fear. Thoma scrambles to his feet, heart racing as he nearly slips on the waterlogged deck in his haste to move. He latches onto the railing a few feet away as the mast crashes down not ten steps from him, the entire ship vibrating from the impact, fire licking towards him from the still burning beam and forcing Thoma to throw an arm up to protect his face as splinters of wood are tossed around like confetti. The heat sears into his flesh, filling his entire body with an invasive, hungry warmth. The hull of the boat groans, a long hollow sound that almost seems sad, like it's apologizing, before it too gives under the force of the blow.

Thoma yelps as the deck fractures beneath him, and his stomach drops as he becomes weightless, hovering suspended in the raging winds for a split second before he plunges into ocean waves so frigid that it steals the breath from his lungs.

Under the water, the sounds of the storm are muted and muffled, the world an endless darkness to the point where Thoma can't discern which way is up and which way is down. Then the lightning flashes, illuminating the way and Thoma kicks with all of his strength towards it. His head breaks the surface of the water and he sucks in a breath, coughing roughly on the exhale. He wipes the seawater from his eyes- which are burning in a different way, as tears try and dispel the saltwater- frantically looking around and spotting a piece of driftwood nearby. He swims towards it, fighting the uncontrollable current, his gloved hand gripping onto the broken piece of the ship seconds before another wave breaks above him, plowing into his helpless form and forcing him back under and into the darkness.

He tumbles at the mercy of the ocean, chest burning from accidentally swallowing some of the seawater, but it too tasted like flowers and leaves instead of the bitter saltiness he'd experienced all those years ago. The driftwood begins floating back towards the surface after what feels like an eternity and Thoma lets himself be guided by it, quickly resurfacing and gasping when there is air above him again. He chokes on the inhale, hacking up the water he'd swallowed with great heaving retches. Tears gather at the corner of his eyes because each cough and subsequent inhale is accompanied by a sharp, stinging pain in his lungs. Thoma drags his head up, staring blankly through the storm at the sinking boat, watching from afar as the flames consume the small ship as she slowly falls to the raging tides.

Then it's just him and the endless, merciless storm. Thoma keeps an iron grip on the driftwood, clinging to the piece of the wreckage for dear life as the sea continues to try and drown him. The waters rage and the thunder drums a constant beat into his skull: fortissimo booms echo among the neverending tempest in a mockery of his feeble struggle to survive.

"Stop moving…"

He ignores the voice. If he stopped moving he would die.

"...calm down, stubborn child… "

But he can't do that either, his heart pounding as he fights to win against mother nature herself. But he can't keep it up forever. Already his eyes are beginning to drag shut with exhaustion, his energy expended. With one hand he clings to the broken piece of the ship, the ship that was supposed to take him to Inazuma, to his father. In his other, he clutches the omamori his mother had given him before he left.

May it bring you good fortune, and may the four winds guide you.

Thoma wants to laugh and cry at the same time. Good fortune? More like a curse. The winds are trying to kill him. And yet he can't bring himself to let go of the red and black charm. It's his mothers, after all, and his fathers before that. He'd been hoping to show it to people when he got to Inazuma, asking around if anyone had seen someone wearing a similar colored kimono. He clamps down on the omamori, and he can feel a sudden pressure on his entire arm, the verdant red the only color amidst the storm grey world. He wonders if this is the reason his father never returned to Mondstadt. Wonders if he ever made it back to the coral shores of Inazuma he so often spoke about when telling his bedtime stories, or if he perished in a storm just like this one.

Forgive me, mother. He thinks, as his eyes slip close for the final time. But I might not be coming home either.

Thoma falls into the darkness.

The pressure on his arm remains, however, and now he can identify individual fingers gripping his elbow and wrist. The grip is firm, and Thoma opens his eyes to see the Shogunate leading him towards Tenshukaku. He's unbound this time, and there's no crowd lingering nearby as he's unceremoniously dragged forwards to stand before the unfinished statue. And still he refuses to fight back, arms limp at his side, knowing that if he resists the Shogun will retaliate against the Yashiro Commission. They would use it as grounds to go after Ayaka and Ayato; and Thoma would be damned to the deepest layers of the Abyss before he became the reason they were hunted for their visions.

His resolve can't retain his fear, however, and Thoma looks up, breath short and heart hammering. The Raiden Shogun stares down at him, her impassive mask twisted into a cruel smirk. Her mouth forms words, words that make Thoma's eyes widen with how accurately she was able to read his thoughts. "Ayaka." And for a split second the Shogun doesn't sound like herself, the voice old and weathered. But then that unnerving smile twists into a toothy grin as she raises her hand in his direction. "Will be next."

No...

No!

He won't allow it.

His vision flares at his side, all too willing to heed his call and Thoma lashes out with pyro, a desperate cry tearing from his lips as he blasts the guards away from him. He conjures a shield around himself as his hands clench at his side, jade eyes burning with rage as he stares down the Electro Archon. Fury burns in his very soul at the thought of the Shogun threatening his Lady; and even though he's still weaponless, Thoma prepares for the fight of his life.

If it's to save Ayaka, he'd willingly tear down Celestia itself.

The room is on fire.

Alright, perhaps that's an exaggeration, as only a small section of the carpet has been singed, the smattering of flickering flames barely larger than that of a candle. They could still present a potential danger if left unchecked, though: Ayaka barely spares it another thought as she sends a short blast of cryo to quell them. More pressing to her is the spherical shield surrounding Thoma. The air wavers and distorts around the rim of the opaque scarlet barrier as it gives off rolling waves of heat, and beneath the dome she can see a familiar vermillion glow as the pyro vision fuels it.

Her gaze takes in the rest of the room, skipping over the low tea tables pushed against the far wall and landing on a crumpled form near the doorway. "Madam Furuta!" Ayaka is on her knees next to the elder in a flash, hands carefully assisting as the old woman pushes herself into a seated position with a pained groan. There's a shattered teacup next to her, the liquid having spilled over the floor, soaking into the carpet in dark splotches. "Are you alright?"

The elder doesn't answer immediately, pressing a palm to the back of her head and blinking a few times, expression mystified. "I- yes… yes M'Lady, I am unharmed." She shakes her head lightly. "Stunned, certainly, and I'll no doubt have a few bruises come morning, but I am alright, all things considered."

As much as it relieves her to hear that, Ayaka can't stop her heart from continuing to race like a startled fox. "What happened?"

Madam Furuta's wrinkled eyes turn towards the center of the room, pale brown iris' reflecting the firelight from the glowing shield. "I'm not sure. I was only trying to get him to drink some tea- he swallowed some of it too fast, though, and had a small coughing fit. Once it abated I tried again but he wouldn't calm down so I called for you, but then-" Furuta gestured with an arm at the pyro shield. "The next thing I know I'm being thrown back against the wall."

He must be having a nightmare, Ayaka realizes with a rush of clarity, looking over at the figure inside of the barrier. Thoma was trying to protect himself from whatever danger his mind was conjuring for him.

True enough, when she looks she can see her retainer's face is twisted into a pained grimace, eyes clenched shut and teeth grinding together. His head turns to the side, sweat beading on his brow as his lips move soundlessly. Ayaka can't hear what Thoma's saying, but she does feel the sudden influx of elemental energy that gathers around him. Her eyes widen, and she barely manages to throw up a protective wall of ice before a blast of flames bursts outward from the pyro shield.

"No!" Thoma's voice is hoarse, that one, terrified word ripping from his throat with another wave of pyro. Ayaka strengthens the cryo protecting them from the scorching heat, the edges of her wall already beginning to melt.

She curses in a very unladylike way, knowing what has to happen next and not liking it one bit. Especially if it will put someone else in harm's way. Again.

"M'Lady?"

Ayaka notices she's biting her lip, the nervous habit from her childhood giving her thoughts away like an open book. Madama Furuta, for her part, had only gasped in surprise at Thoma's quite literal explosion, the older woman now standing at Ayaka's side, a pale brown gaze searching her own icy blue.

She must see something there, because the elder's gaze hardens, and she reaches up to tuck some flyaway salt and pepper strands behind her ears. Her tone is all business as she asks, "What must be done, M'Lady?"

What she did to deserve such a dedicated servant Ayaka would never know, but she silently thanks the stars for sending someone like Madam Furuta into her family's employ. Ayaka's attempt at a smile falls more into a grimace, and despite the elders' willingness to assist, Ayaka still hesitates. "It won't be easy." She says.

"That's what they told me about raising you and your brother." Furuta replies, lifting her chin, the instant response clipped and professional. "I told everyone who had that opinion exactly where they could stick it, and the only reason I am not doing the same to you now is because I don't want you to pick up on my poor mannerisms. So, what must be done?"

The forthright answer abolishes any reservations Ayaka may have had, and she nods. "Very well. First I'm going to need to break through his shield. He'll try and fight it, so you need to stay behind this wall until I've done so. Then-" Ayaka swallows, steeling herself. "Then I need you to take his vision away from him."

It's not her best plan, Ayaka admits this willingly. She has no idea what kind of nightmare Thoma is trapped in, and has no idea how he'll respond to his shield falling or to losing his vision so soon after the vision hunt ceremony. She truly has no idea what to expect; for all she knows this could all backfire in an instant. But she has no choice.

Madam Furata nods in understanding, and Ayaka takes a deep breath, feeling her own vision chill in preparation as she steps out from behind the cryo partition and into the heat of Thoma's flames.

Thoma still can't believe he's fighting the Electro Archon and winning.

Well, no… calling this winning was being overly generous. He was surviving, at best. Which, in truth, counted as a win in his book.

He sends out another pillar of fire, the flames fanning out from him in a wave of pyro towards the Archon. Thoma's vision is burning at his hip as he fights, filling his whole body with an intense heat the likes of which he's never felt before. The Raiden Shogun dodges his attack with the ease of ethereal grace, her polearm sweeping down and around with the same precision to crash into the side of his shield, electro sparks dancing in its wake in sporadic lilac patterns. Thoma grunts, but the shield miraculously holds under the impact- cracking around the fringes but holding- and he jumps back to avoid the follow up slash.

His chest heaves with the effort, but he doesn't dare yield, sweat rolling down the side of his face as he stares down the Almighty Shogun whose face is still creased with that unnatural grin-

Thoma gasps as the Archon blinks out of his line of vision with a flash of violet. He turns, barely catching a glimpse of her pale lavender kimono before a shock of lightning is lashing out from the stormy sky. It crashes into his shield, the already weakened pyro shattering completely and Thoma screams as he feels it break, feeling it's freezing burn rip through him as he's thrown forward. His face scrapes against the wooden platform, and he pushes himself up onto an elbow, panting as he tries to summon another shield- he has to or else he's as good as dead and then who will protect Ayaka- but another blow, this time smashing into his side, sends him rolling across the deck.

Laying there, back to the ground and eyes closed, Thoma can only breathe, gasping as he tries to pull air into his damaged lungs. He's not even ashamed of the tears that fall unbidden to trail down the side of his face.

So… this is how it ends?

Part of his brain is screaming at him, scolding him for giving up so easily and reminding him of what he's fighting for, urging him to get back into the fight for Ayaka's sake. His vision pulses in agreement, the pyro attempting to fuel him, but he's so incredibly tired…. He can't even summon the energy to lift his head, let alone stand. The other half of his brain is patronizing, scoffing at him and berating him for even thinking of fighting back against the Archon in the first place. What did he expect the outcome to be? No one went up against the Almighty Shogun and survived (but, no… that- that's not quite right, one person did).

Thoma's eyes fly back open as something presses down on his chest, the weight bearing heavily on his already tight lungs and making it nearly impossible to breathe. The Raiden Shogun looms above him, a sandaled foot planted squarely in the center of his chest as she reaches out a hand.

"...now! Get the vision!"

"No…" Thoma's voice is barely a breath.

No, this- this couldn't be happening. He had known, deep down, that he wouldn't be walking away from this fight, but it was one he would be proud about, having gone down fighting for the sake of his Lady. He wasn't supposed to survive- didn't want to survive if it meant he would have to watch Ayaka lose her vision all because of his failure.

Electro sparks in the Archons palm and his vision twitches. It ignites something in him and he starts struggling again, only now he's being restrained- and it must be part of the Archon's power because there's no way a single foot is immobilizing his whole body. He can hardly move. All he can do is watch helplessly as the pyro gem flies into her hand (and something's not right, someone was supposed to stop it before it got to her. Someone had stopped it so where were they? Why weren't they here?).

The Almighty Shogun regards it for a moment, and Thoma's body grows steadily colder the longer it's away from him, before she scoffs. "That you of all people should hold a vision…" She never finishes the thought, but as the vermillion light fades, turning the stone to an empty, coal grey, Thoma finds it no longer matters what she thinks.

Because he's failed. He's lost.

His eyes slip closed and he shivers, the chill now creeping into his core and spreading throughout the rest of his body. He can't feel the heat of his vision anymore, can't feel the pyro's comforting warmth staving off the cold. And it's so, so cold. Icy enough that, if he wasn't so far south, it might actually be snowing, like it did year round on Dragonspine.

His mind drifts as he trudges onwards in the nothingness surrounding him, not entirely sure where he's going or what he's doing. He's lost. Directionless. Purposeless.

"Thoma?"

Lady Ayaka.

That- that's right. He remembers her, remembers why she's here with him. He's not lost anymore, and Thoma raises his eyes to see the thick forest foliage paint the scenery around them. It's dark, faint strands of moonlight filtering through the canopy, barely lighting the forest floor enough for Thoma to see the tree roots and divots that are trying to trip him up. He keeps jogging, one foot in front of the other, left, right, left, right, forcing air into his lungs when they try to stop working properly. There's something pressing into his back and every inhale is strained, lungs fighting against an invisible weight on his chest.

"Thoma it's over… you're safe."

It hurts to breathe, and his body is so incredibly heavy with fatigue, but it's not over and they're nowhere near safe so he doesn't stop. Because if he stops then those Nobushi will catch up to them, and he'll have to defend them both from that pyro-wielding Kairagi by himself because Lady Ayaka was in no shape to fight: regardless of how many times she tried to convince him otherwise. And standing and fighting would mean their deaths- or, at least his, since they seemed to want to take his Lady alive for some reason- especially considering he doesn't have any kind of weapon to defend with: His polearm had snapped in half when they fell from the cliff, and he doesn't have a vision like his Lady to counteract the Kairagi's elemental strikes.

That's right, he didn't have the pyro gemstone back then.

He… he's not entirely sure if he has it now, what with how cold he is. Usually he's never starved of warmth to this degree, but he can feel himself shivering-

Thoma shakes away the thought. Either way, the end result is the same. He has to keep moving forwards. And so he does, marching doggedly on while his muscles scream at him to heed his Lady's advice and stop for a rest: but he doesn't have the luxury of time on his side to allow for any breaks. Thoma continues, placing one foot in front of the other, left, right, left, right, as his haggard breaths puff into the frigid air, creating small plumes of smoke that slip from his quivering lips. Despite the fact he should be sweating from the exertion, he can't seem to shake off the unbearable cold settling into his bones.

Left, right, left, right… inhale… left, right, left, right… exhale.

And it doesn't matter that his feet are aching, that his legs are cramping or that his arms are throbbing, because he can endure this. He will endure this. For his Lady, for the one who had saved him when he'd washed ashore on the unfamiliar and strange, secluded island nation, he can endure anything.

Thoma screams when she breaks his shield.

Her cryo smashes into the pyro-infused barrier for a second time, her first blow too hesitant to do more than send cracks spider webbing across the crimson surface. A thin layer of ice coats the rest of the floor this time, eliminating any stray flames in the process. Thoma's shield shatters instantly under the counteracting element, the pyro shield dissolving into nothingness within seconds.

The moment it does, Thoma's back arches and he loses an agonized cry- and Ayaka feels like she's been stabbed: her heart can't take much more of this- hands flexing as if he's trying to grab for something. The vision pulses in response at his side, the warmth that had been temporarily dispelled by her ice already surging forth once more. Madam Furata makes some distant comment about the stitches but Ayaka is already moving, well aware of the fact that Thoma would try to fight back against whatever demon his mind thinks is attacking him.

She lunges forward the moment the shield is down, pressing the whole of her body weight against his, her legs splayed across his own, one arm bent to lay flat across his shoulders while the other pins down the injured arm to keep it from moving too much. Thoma's eyes flutter, and he groans at the contact but remains unconscious. He's hot. And Ayaka's cheeks immediately redden at the alternate connotation behind the stray thought, but it's an undeniably true statement. Thoma's own body feels like a furnace compared to her own, an unnatural and dangerous warmth radiating from his feverish skin that she attributes to the uncontrolled power of his vision.

Ayaka feels his chest shudder beneath her own as he struggles to draw in a breath and- shit, she's only making it harder for him to breathe! There's no time for her to berate herself for being so careless, however, because she can feel his vision growing warmer at her side as it accumulates energy for another pyro blast. Her own does its best to counteract the rising heat, but Ayaka knows it can only buy them so much time.

"Furuta, now! Get the vision!" Ayaka calls, and the elder is already moving before she can finish. Furuta steps out from behind the melting cryo wall, and she's covered her hand with one of the cooling cloths they'd been using to control Thoma's fever throughout the night. Ayaka marvels at the older woman's foresight, watching as the wet cloth sizzles, steam rising from where it comes into contact with the pyro gemstone.

"No…" The one word is nearly silent, hardly a whisper on Thoma's exhaled breath that ghosts past Ayaka's ear. She looks back at him, which is a mistake because her heart finally breaks, seeing the tears that fall unhindered down his fever flushed cheeks, brows pinched tightly as he draws in another tight breath. He struggles under her to no avail, too weakened by the sickness and his injuries to do much more than squirm. "No, please…."

Ayaka's biting her lip again, and she's quite surprised not to taste blood with how hard she's pressing down. Only for a bit longer, she reminds herself as sweat starts to accumulate on her forehead from the unyielding heat. Just a little longer and everything will be okay.

She hears the distinct sound of the vision's clip coming undone, a short, solid snap, and then Madam Furuta is hurrying out of the room, the internal temperature already growing noticeably cooler the farther away she gets, and Thoma-

Stops moving.

His feeble attempts to fight her off cease instantly, body falling limp beneath her own with a suddenness that catches Ayaka completely off guard. She can still feel the strained rise and fall of his chest, can feel the harsh and rapid beating of his heart pounding beneath his ribs and it's the only thing holding back her swell of panic.

"Thoma?" She removes her arm from across his shoulders, resting her palm on his chin and swiping away at the tear tracks. "Thoma, it's over. You're safe." Come back to me, please; please wake up.

"Can't-" The response is gasped out (and it's only then that Ayaka realizes she's still on top of him, Archons, how can she be this stupid), "not- not safe…"

In her haste to get off of him she almost misses the shiver that wracks his frame. It originates from his chest, travelling outwards and his uninjured hand twitches to grasp at the thin robe covering him. His head turns to the side, already tousled hair falling over his face as he mumbles something with every breath over and over, like a mantra.

Ayaka leans in closer to catch the words.

"...right, left, right, left, right…" Another shiver, this one more pronounced than the last, cuts off his mutterings, and he draws a shaky inhale before continuing. "L-left, right, left…"

Ayaka is frozen to the spot, a chill settling into her skin that has nothing to do with her vision, shoulders stiffening with tension because she's heard those words before. She knows exactly which nightmare her retainer is currently trapped in; it's one she's had a few times herself, especially in the weeks following the incident. Her leg throbs with a phantom pain, the details of the room blurring; and breathing is suddenly very difficult, as if someone was laying across her chest the way she had just done to Thoma. She can't repress a shiver of her own because, yes, it had been unusually cold that day-

"M'Lady?"

The gentle voice startles Ayaka out of the budding flashback, the Lady of the Kamisato Clan flinching away from the sound as her surroundings sharpen. Madam Furuta's outstretched hand recoils slightly, and there's concern in her pale cinnamon gaze. It hardens like a slab of geo after a moment, and her voice is as steady and stern as the earthen element as she asks, "What can you see, M'Lady?"

Internally, Ayaka recognizes the grounding technique for what it is, and knows it will help bring her back from the memories. Externally, her mouth refuses to cooperate, opening and closing without making a sound.

"How about the rug, can you see that?"

Ayaka's eyes slide to the stains dotting the carpet from the broken teacup. "Y-Yes."

"Good. What else?"

"I-" Ayaka takes a deep breath and is proud when her voice is stronger the next time she speaks. "I can see you, a-and the painted paper screen over there."

"Excellent." Madam Furuta relaxes, her hand rising to rest on her shoulder, providing a point for her to focus on. "Are you back with me, M'Lady?"

Ayaka nods firmly, smiling with gratitude at the retired herbalist. "Yes, thank you." She says with a clipped politeness. She doesn't have time for anything more because though she was prevented from falling into the past, Thoma was still trapped in it: Stuck in that horrible nightmare.

She shuffles to his side, cupping the side of his face with a gentle palm as he continues to ramble, eyes darting frantically behind closed eyelids. Ayaka leans close until she's only inches from his ear. "Thoma." She makes sure her voice is steady and solid when she speaks. "I'm alright, Thoma. I'm okay. You saved me."

There's a pause in his fevered intonation as lines crease his forehead with a frown. "I…"

"You saved me." Ayaka stresses it harder, stroking her thumb along the curve of his cheek. "We're safe. We're alright."

"Safe?" He sounds confused, conflicted, but his breathing has slowed and deepened, no longer the thin shallow inhales from before.

"Safe." She repeats, and she reaches over with her other arm to give him an awkward hug, her cool forehead pressed to his warm one. "We made it back; you kept your promise. You protected me. Thank you."

"I-" and Thoma's face relaxes for the first time that night. "...Always, m'lady…. Always."

Ayaka stays there, simply listening as Thoma's breathing smoothes out over time, feeling his heart beat steadily beneath her chest. He's alright; the thought runs on repeat in her mind, as if saying it enough times over and over will make it true, will push out all of the 'what if's' that are trying to intrude upon her already fragile facade of strength.

"...M'Lady?" Madam Furuta sounds slightly apologetic, and overwhelmingly concerned. Ayaka feels a steady hand press against her shoulder blade and in that moment she can't differentiate the presence of the elder from that of her own mother. "Are you alright?"

Ayaka sits back up, eyes staring out at nothing in particular. She's been running on less than four hours of sleep in the past forty-eight, the majority of which was spent with her muscles tensed with anticipation, nerves stretched thin from stress, and then everything only intensified after the ceremony. She… She's really, really tired. Tired of watching the people she loves being hurt or leaving, tired of not being able to help in any meaningful way, tired of having to put up a strong front as the Lady of the Yashiro Commission when all she wants to do is scream from the unending pressure weighing on her shoulders-

No, no she was not alright. In any sense of the word.

Her posture slumps as she finally breaks, one hand clamping over her mouth to stifle the sob that escapes her fractured composure. The sound catches in her throat, rending her doughty mask to shreds and once the tears start they just won't stop. Ayaka bawls like a child, simultaneously embarrassed and indifferent to the emotional torrent she's unleashing.

"Oh, my dear child." Furuta's arms pull her into the elder's comforting embrace, and Ayaka buries her face in Furuta's chestnut colored kimono to muffle the sound of her wailing. A hand rubs soothing circles on her back while she cries. "There there now. Let it all out."

Ayaka doesn't know how much time passes like that, with her tears slowly soaking into Furuta's clothing and her own fingers desperately digging into the soft, woven fabric on the elders back. Eventually she runs out of tears to spill, her sobs diminishing to hiccuping gasps that leave her feeling drained.

She sniffs after another minute, pulling back and swiping at her eyes which burn from the sheer amount of tears she's just shed. Madam Furuta keeps one hand on her own, squeezing gently and smiling kindly. Ayaka struggles to speak, not knowing if she should be apologizing or thanking the elder. But the words get stuck on her tongue, and before she manages to say anything, Furuta shakes her head and says, "Think nothing of it, child."

Ayaka sniffs again, nodding and offering the woman a grateful smile in return all the while silently making a mental note to gift the elder with- well, honestly whatever she would ask of the Kamisato Clan, but definitely a raise and an all-expenses-paid week long vacation. At a minimum.

The elder looks back towards Thoma, the permanent wrinkles on her forehead deepening as she frowns. "Hmm… I gather he's still shivering because we took away the main source of heat in the room. Of course, I'm referring to his vision." Furuta clarifies after a moment, when Ayaka doesn't respond.

"I-" That… that would make sense, yes. It was already noticeably colder, and the spots of cryo still covering the floor probably had at least something to do with the temperature shift. Ayaka shakes her head- her brain is really not running at full capacity right now. "I would say that it's a likely assumption, yes."

"In that case I'll fetch some blankets." Furuta says, standing again and making her way out of the room. "Why don't you lay down and get some rest, M'Lady."

It's more of a demand than a suggestion, and Ayaka couldn't agree more- between the recent excitement and her own hysterics, she feels completely wrung out. But the thought of leaving Thoma alone again doesn't sit well with her, so when Furuta leaves the room Ayaka scoots over to her retainer's side, lacing her arm through his uninjured one and curling up next to him. She can hear his breathing (deep if still a bit uneven) and she presses her head against his, Thoma's unkempt strands of hair intertwining with her clipped bangs as he unconsciously turns towards her presence.

Ayaka sighs contentedly, eyes slipping shut so quickly that she doesn't see Madam Furatas return. Doesn't see the fond smile that creases the elder's lips. All she feels is the telltale weight of a blanket being laid over her and Thoma, and then she's succumbing to the blissful caress of sleep.

Fin! Thanks for reading!

So just for clarification for all of you Genshin gamers: No, I do NOT know if the nightmare/flashback scenarios are 100% accurate with Thoma's character backstory (because Mihoyo hasn't RELEASED HIM YET- OMG we're SO CLOSE! I'm excited!) so everything you just read is more of a headcannon/theory of mine formulated from what we already know thanks to the hangout event.

Additionally, that last memory is a completely headcannon story (I have no reason to believe it will pertain in any way to Thoma's in-game backstory) that I might write out (eventually) someday later, I won't spoil the details but the general gist is Ayaka and Thoma get ambushed on the way back to the Kamisato estate by some Nobushi. They have to protect each other but things go wrong and stuff happens (great descriptions, I know hahaha).

As for the posting schedule- you may not be able to tell, but this chapter was fighting me as I tried to write it. I planned to have both this and the comfort part of the hurt/comfort in the same chapter but... well, the hurt just ran away with my words. I SHOULD be able to have the final chapter up by the end of the week (I'm shooting for late Friday/early Saturday) but I promise it will be posted at the LATEST by next week on Tuesday.

TLDR: Final chapter at the end of this week!

Final Things:

First, to vilbyr: No U! Hahaha- I'm always glad to give thanks to those who support my stories :D And I'm glad you're enjoying it so far, I had a heck of a time writing it :) Hope you have a great week!

That's all for now! Thanks to everyone for being patient with me- See you at the end of the week (or next Tuesday)!

-Ardoa88