Hello readers!

The comfort is here!

(Side Note: I do NOT write comfort often so when I tell you this chapter handed me my ass on a silver platter, I mean every word of it! Why is angst easy but comfort so dang difficult?)

Hope you are having a fantastic start to November- this update was delayed a little because my friend and I found out that the Thoma banner dropped sooner than we'd expected. Luckily we had a plan already in place and the boi came home! Best of luck to all who pull, may Thoma wishers be Thoma havers (and I guess the same for Hu Tao, but Thoma is the main event, let's be real :P)

Shoutout to: , Nico Hauser, OMG fanfic, and Humanity's Dawn for following and favoriting!

Time for some comfort. Again the majority of this is written without knowledge of Thoma's full character, so apologies if it doesn't fully line up with the cannon lore.

Enjoy!

-Ardoa88

Chapter 4: The Light Shines Eternal

Thoma wakes to the rare smell of coffee, the earthen caramel tones penetrating the deep fog of sleep that clouds his mind. His return to consciousness is slow and methodical, like wading from the shallows back onto dry land: senses returning the same way one's feet would drag through the thick sand, sinking into the ocean floor with every step towards firmer ground. Sleep clings to his thoughts like water lingering on the skin as he emerges from the waves, not present enough to drag him back under but not entirely unnoticeable.

His eyes blink open to a blurred world, the edges of his sight slightly unfocused in the low light. Thoma stares up blankly at the decoratively panelled ceiling, blinking away the remaining vestiges of drowsiness. He's laying on something soft, and a thick blanket has been carefully draped over him. There's a bit of pressure on both of his arms, a gentle kind of weight that's more comforting than concerning. His head feels like it's been stuffed with cotton, thoughts scattering to the four winds whenever he tries to focus on any individual one. Similarly, his memories are fragmented; bits and pieces of recent events floating to the surface in disjointed parts.

The ceremony is the one thing he remembers with a vivid clarity, a shudder rippling down his spine at the realization of how close he'd come to losing everything. He knows that if it hadn't been for the Traveller intervening, he would be in far worse condition than he is now. Thoma also recalls getting back to the Komore Teahouse, and the intricately patterned ceiling tiles above him only reinforce his assumption that he's still inside the Yashiro Commissioned building. He remembers seeing Madam Furuta caring for the injured Traveller and then… and then after that his memory becomes muddled.

He must've passed out, and Thoma knows he was hurt in their escape from the vision ceremony, his arm throbbing lightly at the reminder. Careful of the wound, he raises his arm, eyes slowly roving over the bandages that wind up to his elbow.

He can tell immediately who's responsible for the expert wrapping. Thoma's seen Madam Furuta's work before, quietly studying her techniques as she had tended to Kazuha's wound. The wandering samurai had still been sporting the dressing when they met at the docks a few weeks ago (although Kazuha's had been redone by a less experienced hand at some point, the overlapping wraps not as evenly spaced).

The appendage trembles with the effort of keeping it suspended, and Thoma lets it fall back to his side with a sigh. His whole body feels heavy, now that he's aware of it, like he's just gone five rounds with Ayato in the sparring ring and lost every fight (to be fair, he's never actually won a match against the Lord of the Kamisato Clan- water does have a distinct advantage over fire, after all- but he has gone even with him on a few rare occasions).

He turns his head to the side, curiously surveying the room he's been put up in. Thoma is grateful that someone's drawn the shades over the window, allowing his eyes to adjust faster without being stained by the harsh afternoon sunlight. There's a tray and some used teacups by his head, as well as a bowl of water with a cloth draped over the lip. In the low light he notices some spots of discoloration on the carpet by the wall, like someone had spilled some of the liquid- tea or water he cannot tell from where he lies- and his brow furrows.

That should probably be taken care of sooner rather than later or else it'll stain permanently.

The thought conjures up an illogical need to clean the mess, and without thinking Thoma begins to push himself up and off of the futon. Which is, admittedly, a bad idea as his muscles instantly lock up underneath him. Thoma holds his breath as they cramp, stiffening painfully from having been inactive for however long he was unconscious. His uninjured arm won't even respond, feeling like it's being pinned down to the carpeted floor. Thoma's eyes squeeze shut as he rides out the wave, stilling as to not aggravate his body further. Eventually it passes, and Thoma flops back down onto the futon with a tired huff, forcing himself to breathe slowly as his muscles relax.

Okay, so moving is currently not an option. Noted.

There's a distinct, human sounding grumble from his other side and, for a long moment, Thoma just stares up at the ceiling because surely, surely he would have noticed if he wasn't alone? There's a squeezing pressure on his arm that snaps him out of his stupor, and he looks over to see a crown of platinum silver hair.

Ayaka.

It takes a few seconds for his brain to fully process the sight.

Lady Ayaka is clinging to his arm like it's a stuffed teddy bear she won at a festival game. Her arms are intertwined with his own, face resting against the thicker sinew as if it's the world's softest pillow. She grumbles again in her sleep, cheek nuzzling his arm and Thoma's face suddenly feels like it's boiling. Honestly he wouldn't be surprised if his skin is flushed redder than his vision right now-

His vision!

The endearing embarrassment is immediately chased off as Thoma realizes that, throughout the last few minutes, he hasn't felt the heat of his pyro vision. At all. He can't feel it warming his body with a comforting warmth, can't feel the weight of the god-given gemstone on his hip where it normally resides. He- he can't even sense it in the room!

His carefully measured breaths hitch as worry begins to settle in its place. Thoma feels slightly nauseous as he looks around, half raising from the futon despite the protests from his body. No- no this- this isn't right. The Shogun didn't take it, he's sure of that fact above all else. Knows it for certain because he doesn't feel… empty. Doesn't feel like he's some husk of a person wandering aimlessly without purpose. He's still firmly, wholly himself.

The scraping of paper cuts through his scrambling thoughts, the door to the room sliding open to admit Madam Furuta. The elder woman is nursing a ceramic handled mug between her hands, the scents of the earthen roast filling the air. Her gaze instantly picks out his own and greying eyebrow rise, crinkling the lines on her forehead.

"Thoma, you're awake." Contrary to the surprise in her expression, Furuta's voice is level and even.

"Where-" Thoma winces at the sound of his own voice. It's rough and cracked, and his throat is astonishingly dry as he swallows and tries again. It's not much of an improvement the second go around, his words still rasping from his lips. "My vision-"

"Hush, child." Furuta cuts him off sternly and Thoma's mouth snaps shut obediently of its own accord. "Rest your voice. Your vision is safe, it's in a hidden chest in the store room; we had to remove it from your person because it was only worsening your fever."

Fever? Thoma distantly recalls feeling too hot, like he was burning from the inside. It was strange because he'd never felt uncomfortable around his pyro. Even when using the flames it was always cooling heat, filling his body with a sense of being warmed by the summer sun.

Madam Furuta folds her legs underneath her, sitting beside him and placing the mug down on the tray next to her. She then measures out a cup of tea from the pot, "I would offer you coffee- I know you're more fond of the drink then the Lord and Lady Kamisato- but I believe tea will serve you better for now."

"Coffee? Kozue let you make-" Thoma turns his head to cough roughly into his shoulder as the rest of his question gets cut off.

Furuta sighs, raising her eyes to the ceiling. "As stubborn as the young Lady," she mutters under her breath. "Didn't I tell you not to talk? And yes, believe it or not, Kozue isn't as adverse to the drink as she claims to be."

Thoma very much doubts that. He himself had tried making a pot one day after a long evening of work and the shop assistant had nearly taken his head off with the business end of a broomstick when she caught him. Perhaps she wasn't as threatening towards the respected elder, but all Thoma can offer is a wry grin of acknowledgement, arms trembling as he tries to lever himself into a sitting position. Before he can lift himself off the ground more than a few inches, Madam Furuta is leaning forward, bracing him with a hand between his shoulder blades. "Slowly, Thoma." She cautions, eyes flicking down to his other side. "Don't move too fast or you'll wake her."

It takes a second for Thoma to understand what the old herbalist means, but then his gaze follows hers and it clicks. Ayaka had shifted when he'd started to move, her face now furrowed slightly. As he watches, her arms tighten around his, holding fast in protest of his attempt to rise.

"She's had a rough few days, poor child. Better to let her sleep as much as she can." At the elders' kind words, Thoma instantly feels a swell of guilt in his stomach. Madam Furuta is right of course; he can only imagine what the past few days have been like for his Lady. Of all the stress she's had to endure because of him.

Furuta pushes him back down onto the futon gently, standing and exiting the room only to come back with an armful of cushions. Keeping an eye on Ayaka, she then helps Thoma sit up, stacking the cushions at his back for him to lean against. He settles into the upright position slowly, back twinging marginally as he moves. Madam Furuta is patient with him, holding him up when the sinew clenches painfully enough for him to have to close his eyes and hold his breath.

Thoma sighs as he leans back- the half-sitting position is surprisingly comfortable, stretching out his back while still keeping the muscles relaxed- and he raises his injured hand to accept the teacup being offered to him. The chamomile is cooled, the mellow taste thickened with hints of honey that relieve the scratchiness in his throat. Thoma finishes the entire cup, handing it back to Madam Furuta with a quiet "Thank you."

The elder didn't scold him for speaking this time, nodding and refilling the cup. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine."

Madam Furuta raises a disbelieving eyebrow at his answer, but it's the truth. Sure, he's still sore and his arm will likely need a few weeks to fully heal, but other than that Thoma feels like himself. A bit tired- he's probably got noticeable shadows under his eyes- but that's 1) nothing unexpected and 2) nothing he hasn't dealt with on his own in the past. He can power through a little sleeplessness no problem. So, really, he was fine, all things considering.

Besides that, he has a more pressing concern. "Where's the Traveller?" He hasn't seen them since waking up, which leads him to believe that they're probably still recovering in a separate room. Knowing the condition they arrived in, Thoma can't help but worry; he may have been injured, but he also hadn't been the one to participate in a one on one duel with an Archon.

Madam Furuta shakes her head, muttering something under her breath that Thoma doesn't quite make out. "They've fully recovered. Yes, I was surprised myself at their fortitude." The elder comments when Thoma's own expression morphs into one of surprise. "Anyway, you just missed them, they departed for Watatsumi early yesterday evening, and with any luck they should be crossing Natsui beach by tonight."

Already up and travelling so soon after sustaining such a dire injury? Thoma is utterly amazed. Relieved, of course, that they're alright, but in awe nonetheless. Then again, he reasons, is it really that surprising. He had recruited them because of their reputation, a reputation that boasted of a strong fighting prowess and an even tougher willpower. A small smile graces his lips as he looks down into the cup of tea cradled in his lap.

Thoma's happy they're okay, truly, but with it comes the bitter reality of his own shortcomings. There's a reason he's known as the 'fixer' of the Kamisato Clan. He knows how to read people, is good at reading people and discovering their flaws; it really isn't that hard, since people that constantly look for weakness in others tend to expose their own in the process. It also means he's good at realizing exactly, with frightening self-awareness, what his own failings are. This time it was carelessness and a dash of overconfidence. He'd thought the issue in Ritou was fully resolved, and therefore didn't bother to take the necessary precautions to ensure the high strung tensions from the confrontation had properly dissipated. He should have been wary of the possible repercussions of retaliation, but he'd been practically preening from his success at convincing the Traveller to join their cause. Instead of eating hotpot (and subsequently being sick to his stomach for a full day) he should have gone to make reparations with the Tenryo Commission and smooth the feathers he'd ruffled. It was because of his thoughtlessness that the Kamisato Clan, and the Yashiro Commission itself, was now under the baleful eye of the Raiden Shogun.

He continues to stare silently at his watery reflection in the yellow-tinted liquid. His lips are no longer turned up in a smile, eyes hooded as he feels the guilt coils in his gut like Orobashi; the snakes' poisonous venom slowly devouring him from the inside out.

"Are you going to drink that or just stare at it all afternoon?"

Madam Furuta's cynical comment snaps Thoma from his thoughts, and he looks back up into the worried tawny gaze of the elder. He smiles at her again in reflex- he hates it when he makes others fret on his behalf- but this time the guise is forced, conflicting against the swirling emotions in his heart. "Well, it's not like it's getting any colder." Thoma says with a soft laugh.

The worry is instantly replaced with a flat look of exasperation, Furuta's mouth thinning as she reaches out to (lightly) thump him on the back of the head. Thoma goes along with it, ducking with a grin and pretending to appear properly chastised. Furuta mumbles again under her breath, and this time he can barely make out the words "insufferable" and "smartass" of which Thoma tactfully points out neither of the less than polite descriptors.

He does take a long draft of the tea, savoring the mellow tones of apple and the crisp floral aftertaste. It's silky texture is a balm to his still parched throat, and he finishes off the cup not long after. Madan Furuta nods in approval as he holds it out for a refill with a polite request for more.

"It's a good sign that you're so thirsty," she comments conversationally as he nearly downs the third cup in one go. "Your body needs to replenish the water it lost. I was planning to make some chazuke when the Lady awoke, but I can go make some now if you are hungry?"

His stomach takes the liberty of answering for him; the sudden rumbling loud in the otherwise serene silence. Thoma flushes faintly as Madam Furuta's eyes crinkle with a smile. "Very well then, I shall be right back. Call if you need anything."

"Thank you." Thoma says, bowing his head respectfully as she gets up and leaves. His chest fills with an affectionate warmth towards the elder. Furuta may be one of the more stern housekeepers in the Kamisato estate, always ready with a harsh admonition or an honest reprimand, but she had a sense of virtue that was sharper than any amenoma blade forged by Hajime. It was of little wonder why she was so highly regarded by both the house staff and guardsmen alike. Somehow, Thoma had come to earn her respect only a few weeks after being appointed as housekeeper, and her approval had gone a long way in convincing the other estate staff to accept him despite his international origins.

His hand absently reaches over to stroke the coarse grain of his mothers omamori that still hangs from his belt. Truly, he must still be blessed by the charm's magic; and Thoma fully intends to repay every kindness that has been shown to him since washing up on the shores of Inazuma.

The most recent addition to that list being the Traveller. He would need to thank them for intervening in the ceremony the next time he saw them: not that he had the slightest clue what he could offer in thanks that would accurately convey how grateful he was. They had faced down an Archon on his behalf- standing up to a literal god while he had merely watched on. Shame bubbles in his chest and his jaw clenches as he remembers how utterly useless he'd been in that situation. It was pathetic really, he was supposed to be the protector from afar, as Ayaka had teasingly called him one wintery afternoon, and yet he had been the one needing protection.

Completely worthless.

The venom in his gut spreads, and Thoma tries to shake away the feeling, knowing that dwelling on his past mistakes was counter productive. He had no way to go and change the past, so all he could do was continue moving forwards. He would get stronger, he would train harder and ascend to the point where he would be capable enough to never put his friends in such a position again. He takes another sip of tea and as he raises the cup to his lips he notices that his hand is shaking, the liquid in the half-full cup sloshing against the edges of the fine china.

Frowning, Thoma concentrates on the bandaged appendage until the trembling ceases. He then downs the remainder of the brew, placing the now empty cup on the tray. The same tray from earlier that once more stirs up an impulsive need to clean something. He idly wonders about the state of things back at the Kamisato estate. Madam Furuta said it's been a few days, which could mean anything from one or two days to five or six. Thoma was well acquainted with the knowledge of hos much dust could accumulate over the course of a day, as part of his daily chores he made sure to wipe down the banister and dust off the curtains and paper blinds. But with him being gone- as well as Madam Furuta- that left the task of housekeeping to fall on Koharu and Hyakubei; not that Thoma doubts their capability as house staff, but Koharu was likely to rush through her duties and spend the rest of her time leisurely footling about the gardens, and Hyakubei was often called away to deal with commission requests and bounty distribution, leaving him with little time to properly care for the manor.

Thoma sighs as he realizes he'll probably have a lot of work to do upon returning to make up for the lost time. The thought isn't as disheartening as he expects it to be, as instead he actually finds himself excited to getting back into a somewhat familiar routine.

The smell of warm rice and cloud mist tea soon wafts through the open door, and it's not long after that Madam Furuta slips back into the room with a bowl in each hand. Steam curls from the surface of the chazuke, twisting into the air and dissipating, leaving behind the faint scents of mint and lavender.

Thoma accepts one of the bowls offered by the elder, the sides of the dishware a deep royal red with swirls of sharp black decorating the sides. Madam Furuta sits and tucks into her own dish, skillfully handling the chopsticks to scoop up the tea-soaked rice. As he looks down at his food, Thoma sees that she's provided him with a shallow spoon instead. Its another kind gesture from the elder, as it's well known that Thoma's not as dextrous with the twin sticks as native Inazumans: he was improving, but learning how to manipulate them to grab the small grains of rice was always a challenge.

He much preferred the tri-colored dango that came on a stick.

It was then that Thoma realizes he has a slight problem. That problem being that he had no way to even use the spoon since Lady Ayaka was currently holding his second hand hostage. He pondered over the dilemma for a long time, long enough for the steam to stop rising from the bowl.

He eventually comes to the conclusion that there's no other feasible course of action. It will doubtless be one of the most daring and dangerous undertakings of his career as retainer of the Kamisato Clan: but he must pull his hand out from Lady Ayaka's cuddling deathgrip without waking her.

Thoma can feel Madam Furuta's gaze on him as he squirms, wriggling the appendage gently and pulling it towards him. The elder huffs through her nose, a sound he knows means she is quietly laughing. His tongue is sticking out from between his teeth as he focuses, blocking out everything else. He twists, careful of the bowl cradled in his lap, and successfully maneuvers out of one of her hands. The second is more tricky, her fingers wrapped delicately around his forearm and holding firm. It takes an impressive bit of prying but Thoma soon manages to free his arm and he's about to smile in triumph when he notices a pair of icy blue eyes looking blearily up into his own.

"Thoma?" Ayaka's voice is thick with fatigue, but she bring her hands to rub at her eyes, and when she speaks again there's relief and joy in their crystal depths. "Thoma! You're awake!" The blanket pools around her lap in thick navy folds as she pushes herself up, a hand rubbing at her eyes and a yawn stretching her lips. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to fall asleep on your arm." She blushes sheepishly and Thoma's own face heats at how adorable she looks.

He coughs into his hand to hide the blush. "It's no problem. I'm sorry for waking you, m'lady; you can go back to sleep if you wish."

However Ayaka is shaking her head. "No I-" She sniffs in a deep breath, "I was actually woken by that wonderful smell."

"Would you like some chazuke as well, m'lady?"

Ayaka startles and looks to Madam Furuta, eyes widening in a way that told Thoma she hadn't seen the elder in the room. Her cheeks immediately darken and she hurries to sit properly, smoothing the folds of her dress as she does. "Ah- yes, please, Madam Furuta. That would be wonderful."

The corners of Furuta's mouth tilt upwards in what Thoma has come to identify as a hidden smile from the retired herbalist, and she stands with a nod. "I shall go and prepare another dish then."

"Oh, I didn't-" Ayaka looks alarmed at the sudden statement. "You can finish your own meal first Madam, I can go and prepare the meal."

Furuta levels the Lady of the Kamisato clan with a flat look. "What kind of housekeeper would I be if I can't even prepare a single dish for my Lady? Sit, child, and rest. There will be plenty to help out with later I assure you."

Clearly flustered, Ayaka bows from the waist. "I- Very well, then. Thank you."

"You are most welcome, m'lady."

Ayaka looks back at him once the older woman is gone, and her face is a swirl of emotions: primarily relief, but there are still flecks of worry in her simmering gaze as she regards him. For his part, Thoma tries to smile back, conveying his own solace at seeing her unharmed and safe; but internally his gut still rolls with guilt over having caused her to feel such unease in the first place.

She rests her hand over his uninsured one, the physical contact a tad hesitant as her eyes dart down to their hands and back up. "Are you okay?"

He wonders why everyone keeps asking him that question. "I'm fine," he responds, lifting his bandaged hand to place it atop hers. For some reason his answer does nothing to assuage the concern in her eyes. If anything it only boosts the emotion, Ayaka's forehead furrowing with a frown. She regards him for a moment, and Thoma feels as if she can see straight through him.

But then she sighs, gaze falling to stare at the floor. "I'm sorry."

The apology takes him completely by surprise, and it's his turn to frown with confusion. "Why are you apologizing, m'lady?"

Ayaka's lips press thin and she turns her head away. "I- I'm sorry I wasn't able to help you. I couldn't come for you when they dragged you off to the statue. And for that I am endlessly sorry." Her voice wavers on the last sentence, bangs hiding her eyes.

Thoma can only blink at the absurdity. Of all the things that could have crossed his mind, blaming his Lady for not coming personally to the ceremony was the absolute last thing he could have imagined. Scratch that- it isn't even something he can imagine doing now, because he doesn't blame her in the slightest. If anything he understands why she couldn't interfere; and even still she managed to save him.

"You did everything you could without endangering the clan," Thoma rebuffs gently, raising his hand to cup the side of her face. He knows it's a breach of protocol, knows that proper etiquette would hardly approve of such an intimate gesture, but it breaks his heart to see her so downtrodden that he can't help but want to comfort her. Ayaka's head turns back towards him and into his bandaged palm, eyes red rimmed as she sniffs. Thoma hates that he's the reason for her sorrow, and he forces a smile onto his face with the hope it will ease her woes.

"M'Lady, you sent the Traveller. You saved me again, and for that I'm eternally grateful. If anyone should be apologizing it's me. I'm sorry I put you in that position to begin with."

Her hand rises to press against his and she closes her eyes, turning her head into his palm. When she speaks, Ayaka's voice is fraught with honesty. "I was… when you didn't come back to the estate I was so worried. But you're here now, and I'm just thankful you both made it out of there alive and in one piece."

It certainly had been a close run thing. Thoma's spine shudders as he recalls just how close the Traveller had come to dying at the hands of Inazuma's Archon. If the guards spear had been even a few feet further away Thoma may not have been able to stop the Shogun. Even then it's not like they'd achieved a clear victory; throwing the spear had merely provided them a brief opening to escape and-

And it's only then that Thoma realizes the full impact of his actions.

He- he'd thrown a spear at the Electro Archon.

He threw a spear… at a god.

That was as good as openly declaring war on the heavens itself. His heart begins to pound loudly in his ears. What- what has he done? Everything he did at the ceremony- not fighting back, not resisting- had been to protect the Kamisato Clan from the Archons wrath, and yet he'd rendered all of that obsolete in one single moment by saving the Traveller. He didn't regret saving them, of course, but by doing so he'd just made the target on the clans back ten times bigger than what it would have been if his vision had just been taken. Thoma had doomed them all. Any retaliation that was to come would be all his fault.

"Thoma?"

"M'Lady?" He feels himself answer, but it's strange, like his mind is in two places at once. His voice is startlingly calm, but his thoughts are racing a mile a minute.

"Are you okay?"

There was that question again. "Yes, I'm fine." He reiterates, even though everything is far from fine. The Shogun would be coming for the Lord and Lady Kamisato all because of his defiance. Perhaps if he surrendered himself in their stead she might spare them? No, no he doesn't think that will work, her quest for eternity wouldn't allow for Ayaka and Ayato to run free after his open opposition. Offering himself up to her would only be weakening their already limited forces. In which case the only course of action is for him to protect them. It was the least he could do. He would bear the consequences of his own actions, and shield his Lady from the Archons rage for as long as he was able.

And if his only wish is his death wish than so be it.

Ayaka's gaze sears into his own, and Thoma doesn't really know what expression he's wearing but whatever she sees it frustrates her; brows crashing down angrily. "You're lying to me, Thoma." She says with a sharp bite of displeasure to her words.

His heart twists painfully upon hearing it, because, "I- I'm not." He sounds unsure aloud, not wanting to argue the point with his Lady because the truth is that he is fine. He still feels fine: physically he has recovered from the fever, and his wounds are on the road to healing thanks to Madam Furuta's attentive care.

"Your hands are shaking." Ayaka points out, the hard edge gone from her tone, even as the firmness remains.

Thoma pulls his hand away from her, staring down at the appendage to see she's right, it's quivering uncontrollably, as is his other hand when he glances to it. "I-" his words cut off as he feels something wet slide down his cheek. He presses his finger to the solitary tear, blinking in astonishment at the shine on the tips of his hands. "I'm sorry I- I don't, I don't know why…"

Ayaka's ire immediately vanishes, her eyes widening as Thoma swipes again, this time at his other eye because the flood gates have opened.

He turns his head away, breath hitching and cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Thoma doesn't even know why he's crying, he's fine! He escaped the ceremony, he's okay. But his body disagrees, and his shoulders begin to shake, vibrating at the same frequency as his hands. He swallows hard, and there's a lump in his throat when he tries to speak again. "I'm sorry, m'lady, please don't worry-"

The next thing he registers is Ayaka's hand fisting in the loose fabric of his shirt and yanking. Even if his body hadn't been weakened from his injuries, Thoma would've still been unable to resist as she pulls him into her chest, arms wrapping over his shoulder and squeezing him tightly. His own arms instinctively reciprocate the hug, hands still shaking into the thick silk fabric of her dress. He's still in shock at the public show of affection, Inazuman etiquette rarely permitted such gestures between a Lady and her retainer. "M-M'Lady-"

Ayaka shushes him, one hand shifting to press against the back of his head, hand tangling in his long hair. "I'm sorry." She whispers, holding him close. Her own voice wobbles, and Thoma feels a familiar wetness stain his shoulder. "I am so, so sorry you had to go through that alone, Thoma. It's okay to not be okay after experiencing something so terrifying. I can't begin to imagine how scared you must've been, and I'm sorry I couldn't be there for you."

"I wasn't scared." Thoma is shocked to find the words to be just as truthful as all of his other responses. "Not for myself."

Ayaka's arms press harder into his back. "What do you mean?" And while her tone is measured, the words carefully controlled, she still sounds shaken at the admonition. "You weren't scared to lose your vision?"

Thoma shakes his head, closing his eyes. "I… I guess I was, but not because of- how would I defend you without it? I was afraid I would lose my place at your side: afraid I would…." be useless. He can't bring himself to finish the thought out loud, and he feels the shame well up inside of him. How pathetic. If he can't even be honest with his Lady, why did he deserve to remain as her retainer?

Her hands press against his shoulders, and she holds him at arms length, studying him. Thoma can't brin himself to look her in the eyes, head bowing to his chest as the tears continue to fall. "Thoma." Ayaka's voice is firm, but not like before, this time it's full of sincerity and affection, and that alone makes something deep within his heart bloom. "You know you will always have a place by my side. If I haven't made that clear before, let me do so now: You are a member of the Kamisato Clan, a member of my family. I will never turn you away no matter what happens."

Thoma can't describe the sensation in his chest. It's a tightness that bands around his ribs but it doesn't hurt. It burns with each inhale but it's a comforting warmth not unlike his vision and yet vastly different than the god-given gemstone, because this isn't a warmth he will ever lose. It's seared into his very soul and he knows with certainty it will never fade. He can't bring himself to speak, he doesn't trust his voice not to crack and betray him, so instead he raises his head, meeting the gaze of his La- his family, and nodding resolutely.

Ayaka's smile is so wide and brilliant Thoma wouldn't be surprised if it outshone the sun. She pulls him close once more, and he sinks into the embrace. "I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I lost you." She says, "You're special to me, important to me, and I can't imagine life without you in it. So you have to promise me, promise me you'll look out for yourself first."

Thoma wants to agree, he does, but… "I- I can't promise that, Ayaka." This time he's the one to pull back, hands sliding down her arms to hold hers. He notes that her fingers are calloused, a leathery feel to them from her diligence when it comes to both the pen and the sword, a mark of her dedication to the Yashiro Commissions' success. He wants to be that devoted to her, wants to be someone she can always rely upon to watch her back and support her goals. "I can't make that commitment because I will always put you and your needs before my own."

Ayaka is silent for a moment, and Thoma- for once- can't read her expression. But then she smiles and nods like she's known this all along. "Then let me rephrase." She says, taking a hand and brushing her loose hair behind her ear. "I need you, Thoma. So, if you will always put my needs before your own, then promise me you will protect all of my needs. Including that one."

Despite everything he's gone through, despite all of the strife he's caused, Thoma finds himself smiling genuinely. He lifts her remaining hand to his mouth, bowing his head to tenderly press his lips to the back of her hand.

"I'll do my best, m'lady." He promises.

For her, he will do anything.

Madam Furuta smiles quietly as she listens to the sounds of the children's crying fade. Even though the door is still cracked open, she remains outside, holding the tray with a covered bowl of chazuke steady while she waits. She doesn't think the Lady will mind much if her food is only lukewarm when she receives it.

Taromaru wags his tail from where he lays on the entrance counter, the ninja dog's intelligent brown eyes watching the door as well with a silent pensiveness.

The elder sighs as she sits there with her back to the thick wall, far enough away to not be within earshot of the children's quiet conversation. Eavesdropping would be rude, after all. She finds herself feeling proud of both of them, marveling t how much they've grown- Ayaka blooming from a delicate budding flower into a strong and capable leader, and Thoma growing into his own from the shy, cautious boy he was when they first met him.

Furuta shakes her head. Sentimentality must be a side effect of old age, she muses. The room has been fairly quiet for some time now, and the elder stands with a soft groan as he knees pop. "I really am getting too old for this." She grumbles under her breath as she picks up the tray.

Her hand has barely touched the soft paper divider of a door when she hears Thoma's raised voice from inside.

"Wait- What do you mean, grounded?!"

Fin! Thanks for reading!

Thanks to everyone who supported this fanfic! I've never really made a short story before (they usually end up running away with my words and it becomes a chapter book) so I hope you all enjoyed! I have plans to possibly write more in this fandom because the community is just so awesome and the possibilities are... MMmMmmmm, TASTY!

Final things:

First to vilbyr: You most certainly may, I'm just glad you're enjoying the story! I hope you like the conclusion and I wish you all the best if you pull for Thoma or Hu Tao :D

Lastly, to : Thanks for the review! I'm happy to hear you like the story- last chapter was a doozy to write so I hope you like it (it chewed me up and spit me out like a piece of gum when I tried to write it, like wrangling children lol). Best of luck on the banners!

I hope everyone has a great rest of their year! Hope to see you again sometime in the future!
-Ardoa88

p.s. As with all of my works, if you'd care to leave a comment or critique or suggestion own below I genuinely encourage it. I love hearing from you all and each comment makes my freaking day as bright as pulling a five star :D