racing into the night.
includes! chapters 4 & 5 (chapter 1 – 3 is here!)
tags! fem!reader x scaramouche, fatui!scaramouche, slowburn, tooth-rotting fluff, lighthearted, frenemies to lovers, kinda possessive scara in this chap
notes! "kaf why is this only two chapters!!" well, chapter 5 is 47k words long (´ . .̫ . `) forgive meeeee ｡:ﾟ(;´∩`;)ﾟ:｡
Rarely does the Balladeer grasp the weight of his decisions.
The mellifluous melody of the streams accompany the stinging sensation in his head. His pale hands dips themselves in the water in serenity.
Nuisance, this is such a headache.
He refused to admit to himself; hes in it deep.
04. Trespassers, Transgressions.
Yet again a mundane day celebrated by the sky and the living. The Balladeer's eyes glint with a striking hue of indigo under the glaring sun, eyeing the specific delicacy laying before him. He (stole) got himself some tri-colored dango from the Inn's kitchen which surprisingly didn't take much effort. Not because he was hungry, no. It was merely due to a curious hunch he has for a while. Do they use the same water for their food? If so, does it retain the same regenerative effects on a body? His questions end on dead end when it occured to him that he has no 'body' to regenerate.. so his little experiment had to come to a pause.
Scaramouche's pondering was short-lived when a sudden noise emerged from the forest, reaching his ears. It seemed to grow louder and louder until he can make out of its screeching. Moments after, a familiar face emerge from his view to feast his sight on. (Y/n), with her disheveled locks flaying all over her face, was flushed and gasping for air. It's as if she ran a mile under a span of ten seconds.
Scaramouche was taken aback, but was slightly amused by her panting figure.
"You!" she managed to breathe out, chest still heaving heavily. "I finally found you! Quest- questions..! I mean— answers! I need answers!" The Balladeer only spared her a glance not caring less. A mess she was, yet in a span of a few minutes, managed to collect herself, clearing her throat.
"You are not registered within the Inn's reception. Not a guest nor an employee, and an official tourist or local of Wakumi Island." (Y/n) lay out briefly with a bemused expression. The purple haired man huffed as he crossed his arms. Ridiculous, you ran a background check? Foolish.
"State your name and your business. And most importantly, your explanation! What you're doing is highly illegal." she says with a clear voice with no sign of even a light stutter. She can't believe she'd be the first to witness a person of unknown origin by the peaceful borders of Wakumi!
Initially, our fair maidens' objective was to find out who this man was and send forth a gratitude gift— assuming he was a resident.
But to her surprise, no one of Wakumi Island found a man of Indigo optics with locks darker than a lilac familiar.
(Y/n) was feeling especially icky because of the new incidents that had been occuring down town, with thugs and frauds going out and about by the shore.
"Look, multiple suspicious individuals have set up around the Island not longer than a week ago, all of which contain various weapons and scrap machinery. They're importing spring goods to various regions, which loses its vitality the longer they are out of the vicinity of Wakumi."
His ears perk up, now turning his full attention to her. Wow. Now that's a surprise. He wonders what kind of idiots wandered into the border, getting the residents so worked up.
"Elaborate."
"These people have been vandalizing and stealing resources from local residents.."
"..And you're implying that I have something to do with them?" Scaramouche interjects, raising his eyebrow, almost offended. (Y/n) was about to retort but quickly had her lips pursed in a thin line. "You said it, not me. Didn't hear from me."
The Balladeer scoffs. The longer this silence drags out, the thicker the atmosphere gets.
But to be honest.. when Scaramouche started thinking about it, the more it started to make sense. He's starting to hypothesize that it could be Fatui. The official request he put up for surveying the area in hopes of making an alliance with Wakumi's land work utilizing its resources was issued not long ago; adding the fact that Fatui likes using force as a diplomatic tactic to the equation...
The Balladeers face turned grim— eyes almost rolling to the back of his head. He made it clear that the space was of great importance and wanted to handle everything civil for good measure. Idiots, a bunch of meat headed chunks thirsting for violence.
'No, that can't be..' he murmurs to himself, face slightly scrunched; displeased. He can't have those lot disrupt his future assets and investments.
Clearly irritated, the Balladeer released an exasperated huff. Scaramouche has no choice but to get to the bottom of this himself.
And the key is right in front of him.
"Woman."
"Huh?"
"Woman. Take me to the camp. Both of us, then we'll cross that bridge."
(Y/n) frowned. "I have a name. You can't just call me 'woman', that's the same as calling you Hat man."
"Let's go."
What— how rude! Is this really the guy who made his way out to save her from the brink of death? 'He looks like a self centered jerk that can't reach the level of kitchen counters to me!' she sneers. Despite her displeasure towards the Fatuu's attitude, (Y/n) led the way to various destinations.
Thump, thump, thump..
The walk was quiet and empty. Many words hung around the air, but the Balladeer seemed to find little importance in them. (Y/n), however, felt like she was walking on eggshells the moment he started spitting his thoughts.
Archons, this guy is chilly. Absolutely scary. She wants to sink into mud and never come near a 100km radius of this guy. Why does he act like everyone's a nuisance with the waste of air he breathes? Arrogant, so full himself.
Something about him seemed off, like how he doesn't flinch. His eyes doesn't seem to light up or show expression either aside from his usual sneer. It took a few attempts, but you finally raised enough to courage to try and start a conversation.
"..Would it kill for you to loosen up a bit? I know this is really concerning but you look constipated."
"Be grateful I'm forced to play nice with you in this vicinity." He says, irritated.
"You may not be one of those thugs but you sure are more than capable of.." You mumble as quietly as you can, but it didn't escape his ears. He says nothing but keeps his eyes ahead; the red eyeliner on his eyes emphasize how sharp his eyes were.. making it incredibly hard to keep gazes with him.
How strange. When (Y/N) last encountered the man near Granny Yori's house, he looked like a kind young man. Now his stature seemed more of a general, a warrior, ruthless and cold. More likely to have beheaded atleast 100 soldiers at war.
(Y/N)'s face turned pale.
Unconsciously, she reached out for her neck catching the Balladeers attention. He narrows his eyes at the pale maiden, as if she's seen a ghost.
He's not gonna ask why.
But a thought crosses his mind..
Maybe he shouldn't have kept tossing and throwing you around if your fragile body bruises easily. Scaramouche recalls that the anatomical composition of a female body is a lot fragile that an average adult male; most likely due to their size and overall mass.
He steals another glance.
Whatever.. Not like he cares.
Their patrolling comes to halt when an unfamiliar scenery greeted their sight. Hidden amongst turbulent flow of leaves, branches, and vines— a humble cabin settles by. The two gave each other puzzled gazes when the first thing they notice is the smoke emitting from the fire place, signifying that it was not long till there was company.
Scaramouche suddenly walks forward, approaching charcoal twigs. (Y/N) quickly interjected by telling him to be careful to which he didn't pay any attention to.
It was warm. Assuming from the scattered resources nearby, it's quite a rowdy crowd. Scaramouche didn't waste time by barging in the dusty cabin, kicking the door open.
"Hey! You'll alert them!" (Y/n) whisper-yelled.
"They can come charging in with pitchforks for all I care."
"You saw the other camps, right? There's atl least a bundle of them. What makes you so confident we'll win in a fist fight with a bunch of other people?" She retorted. He rolls his eyes. Scaramouche emits a mischievous chuckle turning back to her.
"What makes you think we'll fight? I'll be selling you off, duh. Limb by limb, 12 Million Mora per organ." (Y/N)'s face immediately turned pale, surprised.
The second worst thing after getting beheaded is to be profited off your body, apparently.
"No joking like that, please."
"I like it when you say Please. Do it often."
(Y/N) lets out a slightly disgusted and frustrated groan and storms off the cabin with a loud thud.
'So much for staying quiet, huh.' he deadpans. Whatever. Moving on. Keeping his musings to himself, he analyzes the area.
Bamboo baskets. Scraps. Food. Semi-rotten food. Rags. No sign of Fatui equipment. Scaramouche comes to a conclusion that the perpetrators are most likely thugs, treasure hoarders— considering the state and resources of the cabin. His eyes wander towards a sack that contains various booklets, a leathered cover catching his eye. He carefully grabs the notebook trailing his hands along the spine.
A journal?
He opens a random entry— silently reading.
XX-XX-XXXX It has been a month. We are starving. We managed to smuggle ourselves in a ship that was carrying supplies towards the Islands. Coincidentally, we ended up on Wakumi. Lucky men! My men are lucky. We are so lucky. I think I'm losing my mind, but i must hold on for my me—
Scaramouche turns to the latest page.
XX-XX-XXXX What the hell. We were shipped with these exploding papers. Juna told me it was fireworks, like what we usually see in Liyue Harbor. What the Hell. Juna was also smoking inside. We could've died. This is good, if someone interferes with our base, we can just blow it up.
(Y/N) was thinking.
(Y/N) was thinking hard.
She was thinking of her own hypothesis as to who and why would set up camps like this. The boxes were nothing but scraps of garbage and trinkets. That alone gave her an idea as to whom, but why? Why are they here?
Sun rays peek from the leaves among the blanket of greens, creating illusions of the sun. She can see that there are dust particles showing clear indications of motion and activity. In conclusion, the people who had been occupying the space left not too long ago.
The air suddenly turned different, and she heard a loud clunk! behind her.
Her heart almost jumped out of her chest when a sudden strike emerged from behind, aiming for her head. Fortunately, she was quick enough to turn her body around to evade, saving her very pretty head of flowers.
"Asus! You dumb prick! Now she knows!"
"Get her before she runs away!"
'Huh? What!?' The guy, 'Asus' prepared to swing again, this time much forceful than before. (Y/N) was in a frenzy; her feet quick to dally around the soil and dip around the waters. You don't know if it was because of the adrenaline but you were getting extremely lucky that you're not dead yet. The place was surrounded by a handful of fruff and lanky men, all with weapons— hollering different noises all at once. You couldn't make sense of either of them. (Y/n) attempted to yell and at least alert him—
Uh..
Oh no! She doesn't even know Hat man's name!
(Y/N)'s face loomed with pure despair; slapping herself mid chase. Damnit, (Y/n)! You forgot to ask his name! You accused a man of illegal loitering on the spot and ended up facing karma! Another screech emits from her throat when an axe came flying dangerously close to her arms, almost becoming permanently left handed.
(Y/n) ducks and exchanges hits with the perpetrators but there were far too many. Her hits were weak and uncalculated, but her speed outdid the men in rags. It was clear that they're exhausting her out and is willing to go for as long as you can. Although you were not a seasoned fighter, you were still taught how to swing.
She was taught how to swing, but not against 8 people! She's gonna die here!
And the inevitable happened, when our fair maiden got even the slightest bit distracted, a shovel slammed into her head— echoing a loud noise amongst the forest.
Both her yelp, the shovel and the gasps among the men echoed in unison.
And before she knew it, her eyes rolled to the back of her head; embraced by darkness.
"Did it..? Juna, you did it!" 'Asus's voice boomed after the lady falls with a thud. "Tie her up and wait for her to wake. Interrogate her as soon as possible. One step closer to our hometown!" He added. The group was festive, like they achieved successful heist. In the middle of their parade, a new face chimes in, joining in their shared joy.
"Incredible!" The unknown man sang cheerfully, the group quickly halted their celebration, turning towards the source. Their confusion was immediately replaced with a scowl, their gazes trailing over a man who leisurely sat atop on a pair of cargo baskets, smiling down upon them.
The slender figure gracefully hops down, offering slow applause.
"Incredible. A jacked mice took approximately 5 minutes trying to take down a helpless girl with his subordinates like cats and mouse. It was so lengthy, I finished writing two entries."
"Who the hell are you!?"
The Balladeers smile immediately dropped, and atmosphere went cold. Heavy tension brew amongst the thugs, as they all halted their activity, mouths let out a chorus of reluctance and choked up protest.
Scaramouche slowly made his way towards the slumped woman, picking her up gently— placing her on his shoulder.
"Hands off my prize, gentlemen. This one owes me an interrogation."
It's was as if the who place froze. His immense presence put a halt to their banters and frenzy. Scaramouche could see that they were weighing their options, so he pauses, keeping his thoughts to himself.
"You can fight a little bit. So what?" He murmurs seemingly to no one, huffing at her slumped figure. Eyes boring holes to each and every one of the group's heads, none of them even dared to move, nor have the courage to ask. This man emitted something far more dangerous than those of the shogunates' Hatamotos.
The man of Indigo, hair darker than lilac. One who supposedly sneaked into the Island as well, looked back at them with a side eye.
"Lot, be grateful."
Concentrated elemental power spasmed slowly, electro increasingly spasming all throughout the space. The Balladeer had smug look on his face.
"It'll be less excruciating—" one last flicker, and reaches into your pockets. With a tear of a talisman, everything was engulfed in white.
"—'cause you caught me in a good mood."
05. As If Nature Loves You
A pair of eyes follow her at once, some dreading, and others concerned.
(Y/n) tried her best to keep conversations standing, as the tension grew thick.
"And so.. uuh. I may or may not have hit my head with a shovel."
"...Archons above, girl."
"..I have hit my head with a Shovel." She replied meekly in shame, defeated.
The elder lady only stayed silent, observing her. She was hurt, hurting for her. It's as if she failed being a protector. Miss Aine's eyes softly gazed at her nervous form, releasing an exasperated sigh.
"Thank Archons you used the sigil, dear." Miss Aine, the current Head Manager sighed. (Y/n) could only avert her eyes as response. A familiar scent enters her nose. Looking around to inspect her surroundings, she blinks once or twice to take the sight in. The smell of varnish in wood, bitter yet herbal smell of green tea, and soft rays of sunlight hitting her hair was less noticeable. The gauze that gripped the crown of her head stood out the most out of all of them. It was the same room she resided in after once again, encountering the mysterious individual.
However, Y/n was confused.
She tore a sigil?
"Miss Aine, I-"
"Ta-ta-ta! Save it, young lady! You are not to engage in activities outside until you are in full recovery." Miss Aine commanded. "No going out alone. You seem to always attract trouble." The elderly pinched the bridge of her nose. Softly huffing, Manager Aine stood up. She signals the Doctor to come have a word with her outside- and they both disappear with a small thud.
A sigil?
She tore a Sigil of Wakumi?
This made her ponder. A Sigil of Wakumi is a divine equipment used in par with some sort of blinding Flash Bang- allowing to expose territory and cause diversions. The Sigil was originally used to protect the citizens- but it was only limited to personnel and of divine abilities..
Could The Balladeer have known this?
Her head is hurting.
"You seem to be lost in thought."
Y/n's ears perk up, turning towards the person beside her who was sitting quietly the whole time.
"Are you feeling well?" Yuuki's soothing voice entered her ears, allowing her to relax immediately. It was Yuuki, one of her long time friends she made with in the Inn. Yuuki gazed at her with concern, opening his mouth to follow up. "We got moving as soon as the signal was given. We found you laying on the ground." recounting calmly, his palm grazes (Y/n)'s gauze. "Those thugs of Liyue.. they smuggled through a ship and found themselves in Inazuma. The environment wasn't too ideal for them, so they wandered all throughout Wakumi to come sip our divine streams."
His expression was forlorn, almost pitiful; but all of it was wiped clean in a mere second- showcasing his gentle features and bright smile.
"You needn't worry, (Y/n). They are given due care and rehabilitation before proper punishment."
"Ahh.. Okay." Was all she could utter. Archons above, is it just her or every sound has been doubling in volume lately? Goodness, she might've caught a really bad hemorrhage with that damn shovel. Shaking off that iffy thought, she once again thinks to herself. So they found her braindead on the floor, with no signs of a floating lavender melon— or at least, a purple gentleman on sight?
That guy, so slimy; as sneaky as a fox!
Those icy blue eyes illuminated by moonlight, navy blue hair under the dark— purple by the morning sun, he wears a spur of raven hue clothing adorned with red embellishments. A stranger with an unpleasant demeanor yet puzzling behavior. Where was he when you were being tag teamed by a bunch of men twice your size? Surely, he couldn't be watching?
(Y/n)'s body stiffens, and slams it on tatami mat to release tension.
"I gotta make that guy pay." With a grim face, she mutters in newfound determination. She was kidding of course, there's a nagging sense of concern piling up on her chest, worried about the state of condition this stranger has been put in because of her actions. Just then, a low chuckle cut through her thoughts like wind. Yuuki questions her what was she talking about, but brushes it off.
"You should know, we have an important guest coming a week from now on." Yuuki crosses his arms, directing his gaze out the window. "We were told to prepare the finest garb and utilities to accommodate them. It makes you wonder if they're a diplomat." he finishes it off with a small grin.
"VIP? Sounds fancy. Guess I'll have to get better in three days to help!"
"You don't have to, you hit your head pretty hard."
"I think I make it obvious by how over the top my bandages are. I'll probably be all fixed up in a day or two!"
Yuuki doesn't mind your protest, only standing up to come and give you space. "Don't push yourself too much, work can wait. I'll see you later, (Y/n)." With that, he slides the door closed. Wow, total buzzkill. She lays her head gently, falling back into deep thought. Attempting to recount the past, her memory stops at the event of collision between her skull and shovel. Wincing, her calloused hands carefully caress the patchers of gauze wrapped on her temple; hair disheveled.
'I've been getting injured lately.. maybe it's just my luck.' She thinks sadly, frowning. 'Maybe I should stay inside for a while? It could be an omen.' A dead lady is nowhere near an adventurous lady. That is a lesson (Y/n)'s father taught her. That reminds her, it's been a while since you visited your parents. Working at an inn in the crisp years of 17 really keeps a score on time. Now that she has recently turned of age, her paycheck would definitely be more than enough to come and support the old man to retirement. (Y/n) grins cheekily— very pleased with herself. Not knowing that her thoughts divulged into multiple fragments of yesterday, she slowly drifted from consciousness; entering a dreamless slumber.
Two moons had passed before the illegal camps incident, and the grand estate of Tsubasa Inn was filled with busy bodies and hollering. The space has been filled with loud footsteps across tatami boards and wooden floorings— and a certain (h/c)-colored head was the most fastest and giddiest of them all. All the maids and worker gawk at her eagerness to take in all chores of others to make lighter work; half of them reluctantly accepting. Youngsters, filled with energy to the brim, always.
"(Y/n)! got a moment?"
"Alright Gene, I can't possibly— Coming!" You trudge away from your co-worker, who happens to be begging you to come switch stations. "We could switch tomorrow!"
Life in the inn is always a busy one. No matter the days, weekends and weekdays. It's such a staple in Inazuma, especially among the locals. It used to be a top tourist spot before the enactment of the Vision Hunt Decree coupled with the closing of borders from foreign lands. Despite the guards and occasional men in black clothing coming about, business has been surprisingly thriving no matter what political state the region has been.
She was handed a large rattan basket.
"Now, go forth Narukami Island and fetch the textiles. We've ordered a big batch this week, but it won't be very heavy so you'd guaranteed to be fine. Here's the receipt, do not lose it." Manager Aine strictly instructs, patting the order invoice to your chest.
You nod in understanding. Take the boat, traverse Narukami Island for the textiles, retrieve them, and come back home. Simple, right?
Okey dokey!
Except.. it wasn't simple. At all. It just wasn't possible.
Nokey dokey...?
After a while of retrieving the textiles, the clerk properly folded and arranged everything for (Y/n) to take back to the inn. A few moments into the journey back home, (Y/n) passed by Granny Yori.
"Oh, dear (Y/n), I haven't seen you a while." her soft, raspy voice called.
But you couldn't respond to her, not when a familiar figure stood right next to the soft lady— once again holding a cart. His faintly blue hued eyes narrowed at the sight of you, suddenly setting down the cart with a loud thump.
With an agape mouth and a tone similar from yours, you both exclaim:
"You again!?"
"Oh dear, you know each other?"
"No." Scaramouche quickly retorts, irritated— but makes sure his tone is still polite to Granny Yori.
"Yes!" the (e/c) eyed maiden asserts, both in unison. Scaramouche pinches the bridge of his nose, and turns back to the elderly woman in a polite tone, this time, strained.
"Well, granny. Seems like I have no business here anymore. I should take my leave." He dismissed himself, turning away before anyone else could say anything. Granny Yori could only softly smile as a response whilst (Y/n) scrambles to come and keep up with the Balladeer.
"Granny, can I leave these here? Thank you so much, a triple thousand! I just have to deal with something. I'll come back for them, I promise!" She says, hurriedly.
"No problem, dear."
The elderly shoots the maiden a smile. The (h/c)-colored lady leaves to chase after the mysterious stranger that has been haunting her this week. Scaramouche, who left in a hurry, was surprisingly walking at a leisure pace. Then, it was as if fate slowed down for them and was permitted a long awaited reunion. Slowing down—as if— the sun disappeared from their sights. The sky had been replaced with a shade of blue only reserved for the night, and the surroundings painted with luminous flora that glimmered like the stars. Scaramouche had walked far enough, and was done ignoring her calls. And so he stood, facing the maiden.
"Did you hit your head or something? You know, for following a stranger out in a forest like this." Scaramouche starts, taunting you.
"Please, we're barely strangers. You've seen me unconscious once or twice. And it's all because of—" before she could finish her sentence, her eyes trail towards a drumming creature. A small, plump racoon standing idly by her side; a leaf on its head. A bake-danuki, you presume. Whatever it's doing here, it's most certainly distracting you.
"—you..." (Y/n) trails off. She directs her attention back to the Balladeer, who had payed no mind to his surroundings at all; an austere look on his face.
"Look, since you're so keen on passing out and everything, and had you rely on me to deliver your body to that stuffy place— how about we just form an agreement?" the Fatuu says in a matter-of-fact tone, his slender figure stood with his arms crossed.
"Let my presence on the Island go, forget it all happened. You see me, you see nothing. I have business to attend to in these waters that doesn't concern you, woman." the way he speaks contrast his sharp and delicate features, those trenchant pale blue eyes staring straight at you.
"See how I'm doing you a favor here? Don't take this for granted."
Archons. Sound the alarm. No decent man speaks like that with such solemn look in their faces. (Y/n) carefully studies his image. She can't help but sneak in a few compliments or two. The hat he's wearing bears resemblance to a certain garb travelers wear that you forgot the name of, and those sleek red shadow on his icy eyes form the likeness of a mischievous fox— true to the stillness of his behavior.
"Be honest. Did you rescue me from those two incidents?" You has a hunch ever since your body regained consciousness. How could he, a stranger, bear witness to the events past, and lightly brush it off?
"Did you think I did that out of my own accord? Thank your Ōki Tori for that. It kept threatening me it'd electrocute and burn my insides if I dont step in. I would've left you dead long ago if it weren't for that stupid carcass." with a displeased tone, the prickly man directed his gaze elsewhere. He veils his words with enough malice to make you think he's got horrible personality, but enough humour to remind you of childish banter.
"That God forsaken curse about protection or whatever.." Scaramouche mutters under his breath. He reaches for his sleeve, pulling out a piece of fabric that looks all too familiar to you. It was like there was a ghost of an amused smile on his face once he caught wind of your bewildered expression.
With all the shenanigans he had to endure just to enjoy Wakumi's atmosphere, it was about time he had to get back at you for always getting him zapped or divinely burned. After all, you're outside it's perimeters.
No God can reach him here.
"Hold on.." you trail off. Those are..
The textiles!? One of them?
With an arrogant smile, he dangles the textile right in front of you, daring you to take it from his very hands. Scaramouche knows you're definitely a goody two shoes, and he knows just what to do to get under your skin without physically injuring you. The Balladeer never really thought he'd get this petty either, but he couldn't care less. After all, the patterns on this clothing reminds him of a certain someone, which makes everything all the more better.
"Hey, give it back."
"Over my dead body."
"I'm not messing around! That's important!"
"You'd have to grab it from my cold, dead hands."
(Y/n) takes a few steps to close the gap between them, but the devilish man takes two steps back, just a few hands out of reach. Is this his way of petty vengeance? Mere child's play? Since he can't get his revenge his own way, he'd rather inconvenience everyone to make himself feel better? The figure of the maiden tried again and again to snatch the most beautifully plated textile to no avail.
"Busy bee, What's wrong? I thought you were quick on your feet back there? Buzzing around and—" before Scaramouche could continue with his mockery, he was suddenly cut off by a pebble to his face. Shocked, his widened eyes met with (Y/n)'s (e/c) colored frustrated ones. She tosses another pebble in her palm with a strained expression.
"Did you just chuck a rock at me?" Scaramouche says in shock, gawking at the maiden. So much for being considerate, you're bold and fierce.
"It's nothing compared to being hit on the head with a shovel, but you wouldn't know that, don't you?" you attempt to taunt him, working him up. His purple hair moves with breeze of Chinju Forest, a scowl painted his face.
"I've had worse." Scaramouche closes the distance between the two of you, catching you off guard. He gracefully swept your feet off the ground, leaving you stumbling in the dirt with a yelp. Fuming, you pulled on his sleeves to gain advantage in tackling him to the ground with you. Surprisingly, he stays still as stone like an unmovable force. Embittered, you fling yourself to him as a last ditch effort. Finally grabbing ahold of the textile in his arms, your (e/c) eyes light up in triumph as a result.
"Give.." the (h/c) haired maiden tugs at the expensive fabric. "..it back!"
Poof! Smoke suddenly appeared before them, making the two stop in their wrestling.
(Y/n) holds onto an end of a medium sized log, with Scaramouche's fingers on the other end. The two halted their antics to stare at presumably expensive and most delicate textile Ritou has to offer— now reduced to a piece of fat, lumpy log.
Ah, screw this. You're dead meat now.
Both their attention turned to the joyful drumming of a certain tanuki in the forest, dancing as if to provoke the two of them into the deep. You make your frustrations known towards the tanuki, who started to flaunt the piece of fabric on the ground— dirtying it so.
"Aaahhhh Nooo!!! Stop! You're charred meat!!" the poor maiden exclaims in despair. The tanuki takes off into the distance, poofing offscreen somewhere— whilst (Y/n) scrambles to keep up with it in a frenzy. Manager Aine was not to be played with, and you would rather sweep the whole forest clean upside down just to find this troublesome tanuki.
You ran towards the direction it's guiding you by jumping and slapping its plumpy cheeks. To your surprise, Scaramouche ran past you, hell, even more faster than you! He moves like it's natural, an air of quiet imperturbability alluding his every movement.
"Got it."
He squishes the poor youkai into his palm like some sort of toy, but before he could continue— it vanishes into thin air accompanied by smoke. There was a small hint of surprise in his expression before it was wiped away with an obvious scoff. 'Right, of course, that's their thing.' Part of Scaramouche felt idiotic by thinking it was that simple, so he sighs and dusts himself off.
"You're on your own, moron."
You were taken aback by his sheer audacity. "Wh— But you started this, you toad!"
He huffs at the insult. A toad? Screw it, he's out of here. His hat— now remembering the term "Kasa", sways with the breeze; turning his back. Despite your fuming demeanor, you can't help but be entranced by how pleasing the way sheer fabric flows among the wind. The beautiful patterns of smoke and imagery further escalates the look of eloquence and sharpness— catching you entranced. It was enough to disperse that nagging fire in your head. (Y/n) huffs, dusting her (now dirtied) uniform.
(Y/n) trudges ahead first. With that, they go on their separate ways.
One step, two steps, three..
The mysterious air of Chinju forest has a charm like no other. The flowers that glow beckon you to come closer as the soft ground cushion your every step. It has been a few minutes of you going around looking for the youkai like crazy.
Four steps, five steps, six...
You can't brush off the thought like you're being watched, going in an endless loop of trees, weeds, and rocks. Slumping in defeat, you heaved a heavy sigh. You're lost, it's time to admit that now. Determined to get that piece of fabric back, the lost maiden racks her brain to come up with a solution to finally end this ridiculous situation. Rummaging through your pockets, you find three pieces of caramel bites, a sweet delicacy that keeps you energized all day and night. Staring at them blankly, your eyes light up for an idea.
(Y/n) crouches and places the three candies on the ground. For good measure, she backs up two steps away from her offerings. With a strained expression, she starts. "Oh, great and revered bake-danuki," Never forgetting your polite tone, you lower your head. You hear a noise from somewhere— akin to a snicker— but pay no mind to it. (Y/n) convinces herself that it's all in her head. Maybe her imagination is mocking her. Despite everything, she continues.
"Please accept my humble offerings in exchange for the treasure you've stolen from me."
(Y/n)'s call was met with silence, but after a few moments of awaiting a response, Poof! a cloud of smoke fills the air. There it is, that troublesome tanuki! However, it's boisterous personality was replaced with curiosity— peering attentively.
"Not so fast. One candy and you give me my fabric back, two candies is giving it back AND leading me to the exit. The last is a bonus if all is satisfied. What do you say?"
The charmed tanuki plays with its drums joyfully, tossing the fabric to you with glee. With a satisfied hum, it scurries over to get the three caramel candies and beckons you to follow it. With a thankful expression, you happily stood up to follow the plumpy racoon out into the forest with the same gleeful demeanor.
You see a path that leads to the familiar chirps of birds and the warm, captivating rays of the sun. (Y/n) turns back to look at the satisfied tanuki munching on your caramels, waving good bye. With a polite bow, you step out of the forest back onto the recognized clearing of Narukami Island. You lay the delicate and sullied fabric on your forearms as a sign of triumph, letting out a tired and exasperated sigh.
The suddenly, out of nowhere—
"Wow, you guys really must like overspending on textiles."
Dear Lord. You have not looked back so fast in your entire life. A spur of purple, scarlet, and charcoal black greet your eyes; his scarlet eyeshadow defines his scrunched expression scrutinizing a certain piece of paper. Scaramouche was standing right behind you, unperturbed by how shocked you are at the sight of his greatness.
"Hey! That's my invoice, why do you keep meddling with my stuff?" you say as you reach over for the receipt. Scaramouche catches your arm with ease, keeping you in place. His temperamental personality really puts you the edge with how sharp his words could cut, and with how fast his demeanor changes. Still, (Y/n) doesn't move away from his grasp but rather stiffen to keep it that way.
"Listen here." The Balladeers' eyes stare you down, meeting your stunned gaze. "I'm warning you. Quit following me everywhere like a dog and leave me be. If you witness something you shouldn't see, the rest is gonna be your problem." his grim expression spoke revelations, like that kind gentleman was a hazy dream from yesterday.
"If that happens, it's gonna be real messy and troublesome. Just do what you're told, alright? Glad we could reach an understanding." Scaramouche says with a menacing tone. His grip loosens on your wrist, and prepares to take off.
You're not about to let that happen. (Y/n) pulls the Balladeer closer to her, catching him off guard. With such force, they stand face to face. Scaramouche swore he almost stumbled, but later found out that it was her body catching itself upon his. He could feel how warm and calloused your hands were against his skin. Before he could react, the determined maiden spoke with a tone he'd never heard before.
"I don't care what you're here for, the same way you don't care for my well-being." He noticed that she smelled of cinnamon and herbs, with the hint of lavender and dirt; that pretty much sums up the kind of person she is. (Y/n) continues, tightening her grip on his arm. "If you think you don't deserve gratitude, then you at least deserve an apology. I'm sincerely sorry for troubling you within, and outside the borders of Wakumi." she says with contrite, frowning.
Ah, this wicked man can't focus at her words at all.
He almost formed a thought. A thought that nature seemed to love you. Like a radiant beam under the sun, he quickly kills that thought. Under the rays of warmth, (e/c) eyes glinted with soft mellow; you continue. "I won't bother you again, I promise. I just find it rude to ignore you after you've—"
The vagrant sudden chucks something at your face mid sentence with an unreadable expression on his face.
You let out a yelp, finding your vision hindered by some sort of fabric followed by a small click of his tongue. Alerted, you scurry to take the fabric off your face to give this brat a piece of your mind, but was cut off by his grumbling.
"Get lost already."
By the time you managed to unravel the fabric off your face, the nameless vagrant once again slipped under your nose.
All that was left under the ambient rays of light of the clearing was you, and your rattan basket of textiles.
Wait.
When did this get here?