Work Text:
The thing calling itself Enjou—a convention we shall ourselves adopt—shifts uncomfortably from foot to foot.
“So...” he says.
The room’s other occupant is an ancient thing in the shape of a young human woman, with eyes that shine like dying fireflies. She sits on a rough wooden stool, eyeing Enjou with a merciless gaze that gives lie to her daintily folded hands.
“So?” echoes Her Highness.
“Am I going to be tortured?” says Enjou.
A sigh.
Her Highness rolls her eyes. “Hmph. I’m aware of your masochism kink, lector. There isn’t a mage east of Sumeru who you haven’t told about it.”
“It’s not masochism,” Enjou grumbles. “It’s just a healthy attitude towards defeat—”
Her Highness stares him down until he stops talking. Considering her small stature and her seated position, the stare is remarkably effective.
“Better,” she says. “Now. Care to explain your failure?”
“Yes, your Highness. It... the hero Sangonomiya sent to obtain the coral. It wasn’t the mercenary we’d expected.”
“No? Our intelligence indicated that the Crux was one of the few outside parties the Priestess trusts. Who, then?”
“Well...” Behind his mask, Enjou purses his lips. “...Sangonomiya sent your brother, your Highness.”
“Oh.”
Her Highness blinks.
“Oh, fuck.”
In an abrupt motion, Her Highness stands up. Marching over to Enjou, she jabs a finger in his chest.
“Did you harm him?” she says, voice unnaturally lifeless. The air between them crackles with deadly energy.
“No,” says Enjou quickly. “No lasting harm, per your standing orders.”
“Good.”
The finger is withdrawn. Enjou rubs at his chest, where it feels like the jab is bruising over.
“But,” he says, “...um.”
“But?”
“Do you know if he’s into guys with glasses?”
“If you really don’t trust me, you’re free to rough me up a bit,” said Enjou, “but just... don’t drag me to the surface afterwards, please?”
Aether stared. Partly in bewilderment, partly in distrust.
For the briefest moment, Enjou saw it: the distrust bubbling to the surface, the flicker in the Traveller’s eye as the warrior measured the distance between his sword and Enjou’s torso. (And, surely, the infamous Traveller who’d thwarted the Dvalin project and subdued Osial was a seasoned warrior indeed, no matter how soft his face...)
Then the moment passed, and bewilderment won out.
“I don’t make a habit of beating up people I’ve just met,” Aether said, relaxing.
“That’s not true at all,” protested Paimon, the small floating lady who, by all reports, accompanied Aether everywhere like a second shadow. “We beat up loads of strangers for commissions!”
“That’s... not the same,” said Aether, rubbing his forehead. (Uncanny: the gesture was the exact same one Her Highness made whenever a mage asked for her autograph.)
Enjou bowed his head. “Well, as I said, I’m simply a scholar with a thirst for knowledge... And with a certain tome he must find in Byakuyakoku.”
“Oh, what book?” said Paimon.
Oops. Had he said that last part aloud?
“A very old one,” Enjou evaded.
“So... not one you can find at Yae Publishing House.”
“Indeed not.”
“Drat. Paimon has a voucher for a free book there.” The floating lady shook her head. “Oh well, good luck! Come on Aether, let’s go find that Golden Bridle!”
Good luck, mouthed Aether, as his companion ushered him out of the archives.
“...you see, the Golden Bridle, despite the name, isn’t actually a rope, so it can’t be used for—”
“Stop. Back up.” Her Highness crosses her arms. “Why were you asking me about Aether’s type?”
Is she annoyed? She sounds annoyed.
“...perhaps it was academic curiosity?” Enjou offers.
“Is this at all related to your requisition request for a better tailored disguise?”
“It might not be.”
Her Highness puts a hand to her head—(yes!, that gesture!, that’s the one he was thinking of!)—and exhales slowly.
“What does any of this have to do with your early departure from Enkanomiya, empty-handed?”
“I’m getting to that part,” says Enjou. “You see—”
(“Get there faster,” says her Highness.)
“—there were ghosts.”
“Aah! Ghost; it’s a ghost!” cried Enjou.
Paimon squeaked, startled, then turned to glare at Enjou. “Seriously, Enjou? You scared Paimon more than the ghost did— wait, what the heck are you doing!?”
“What do you mean?” said Enjou, who was curled into a ball.
“What?” said Aether, who was carrying Enjou in his arms.
“Paimon turns her back for one second and you’re princess carrying the suspicious scholar guy? Really?”
Aether seemed unperturbed by Paimon’s judgemental look. “He was scared,” he explained.
“Put him down!” said Paimon. “And wash your hands, we have no idea where this Enjou guy has been!”
“It’s true,” said Enjou, as Aether set him down, “for all you know, I could’ve been inside a vishap’s stomach last week. Or in the depths of the Abyss.”
“Why do you keep making suspicious jokes?” growled Paimon. “It’s like you want us to think you’re evil.”
“Am I interrupting anything?” said the translucent blue shade.
Enjou jumped. “Ahh, ghost!... oh, same ghost. Um. Heh. Hello, good sir.”
“Who... are you?” Aether said—to the shade, not Enjou.
“You... must be the heroes sent to retrieve the coral? Hello there. My Watatsumi name is Aru...”
“Ghosts,” repeats Her Highness flatly.
“Yes,” says Enjou. “Well, technically, the phantasms are more like... sentient memories. I’ve been comparing our notes with the phenomena the Tsurumi cell encountered...”
“Don’t remind me about the Tsurumi cell,” snaps Her Highness.
Oops. He has forgotten that that was a sore subject. Fifty Abyss mages stuck in a time loop while the rest of the cell tried to mount a search-and-rescue through fog that defied geometry.
(The incident had taken a year to resolve, and Her Highness had gotten into such a rage about it that the entire Abyss Order breathed a sigh of relief when the youngest Harbinger declared Her Highness his arch-rival and she became very preoccupied tossing him off cliffs.)
“Apologies, Your Highness,” Enjou says, bowing deeply.
“Moving on. You were scared by the phantasms for some dumb reason—”
Enjou huffs. “How would you feel if you ended up somewhere dark and underground and the supernatural remnants of some dead civilisation were suddenly talking to you?”
Her Highness opens her mouth, pauses, and closes it again. She settles for burying her face in her palms.
“Back to your debrief, lector,” she says after a long pause. “At this point, it’s fairly clear to me you are infatuated with my brother. Fine. You have terrible taste, but fine. Just... skip to the part where you failed your main objective.”
“Defeating Aether?” Wait, no, that’s not right. What was it again...? “I mean... Right. Yes. Intelligence gathering.”
“The book you promised me, yes.”
“Well.” Enjou scratches his head. “The ghosts— I mean, the shades blew my cover.”
“Your cover,” said Her Highness flatly.
“Hey, Traveller,” said Enjou.
“Yes?” said Aether.
“If I was a bug, what would you do?”
“Paimon knows!” said Paimon, bouncing on her seat excitedly. “Paimon would put you in a jar. With... with chocolate sauce. And then later when Paimon was hungry... crunch! Nom nom nom!”
Aether hummed thoughtfully as he rotated the poultry on the spit. They were sitting at a campfire above the Narrows, resting between trials. Enjou and Aether sat on shriveled white logs, while Paimon was seated atop the book-filled rucksack that Enjou had been carrying around to avoid suspicions about his Abyssal powers.
“I’m not sure I would do anything in particular,” said Aether finally. “I don’t go out of my way to hurt bugs... or to talk to them.”
“Um, cicins, duh,” said Paimon.
“I said ‘go out of my way’. Self defence doesn’t count.”
“Well, if Mister Creepy Scholar was a bug... maybe you’d make him a little bug bed?” said Paimon. “Since you like him so much, hmph.”
Aether sighed. “Is this because I gave him the first tofu bao earlier?”
“No comment!” said Paimon haughtily. Then, beneath her breath, she added: “Paimon wanted that one. It looked juicier.”
“Well,” said Enjou, “a different question, then, Traveller. What would you do if I turned out to be evil?”
Aether frowned. “Why do you constantly talk about being evil?”
(“Paimon thinks the answer is pretty obvious, Aether,” said Paimon.)
“You never truly know someone until the two of you are at odds,” said Enjou. “Humour me! If I turned out to be a Fatui spy, or an amnesiac time-warping elder god, or—for the sake of argument—suppose I’m an evil flamethrowing monster from beyond the sun’s reach...”
“Paimon saw that knowing glance! Humph. Paimon is not a Fatui spy, don’t be gross.”
“This is the second time you’ve mentioned fire powers,” Aether mused. “If your robes weren’t so form fitting I’d wonder if you were hiding a Vision in there...”
“...that cover,” says Enjou.
“I’m sorry, he called your robes form-fitting?” says Her Highness.
Enjou nods. “Yes. Why? Does that have some kind of cultural significance to your kind?”
“...I hate this job.”
“Pardon? I don’t understand.”
“Evidently,” she groans. “Alright. Your ‘cover’. Your extremely well maintained cover. How did these... shades ruin it?”
“I’m quite certain that Enjou person is not of any Watatsumi bloodline,” Aru told the Traveller.
“Wait,” said Paimon, “you mean he’s not from Watatsumi after all?”
Well, crud, thought Enjou. He was pressed flat against a pillar scarcely twenty feet away, which was pretty suspicious in of itself, but so long as he didn’t get caught...
“He could be a second generation immigrant...” said Aether.
“You don’t even believe that! Argh, you’re just defending him to annoy Paimon, aren’t you!?”
Aether smiled slightly. “Maybe. You were saying, Aru?”
“I must caution you to be wary of him,” said Aru.
“But... we’d never have been able to find the Golden Bridle without his help,” said Aether.
Okay, okay, thought Enjou. This is salvageable. Even if they suspect I’m not on their side, I can bluff my way through this.
He began to back away towards the stairs.
“Perhaps I’m overthinking this, then,” said Aru. “In any case, the special Bathysmal Vishaps whose bodies contain the Bloodbranch Coral may be found directly beneath us—”
Enjou’s next step sent a pebble skittering noisily across the tiles.
He winced and looked up to see Aether, Paimon, and Aru staring at him.
“...Enjou?” said Aether. “Um... why are you sneaking about?”
Enjou considered his next words very carefully.
“...no reason,” he said.
He hightailed it out of there before any further questions could catch him.
“Why am I the suspicious one, anyway?” grumbles Enjou. “He’s the one carrying around enough fowl and cabbage to feed a village for a month.”
Her Highness tilts her head. “What’s so suspicious about that?”
“What’s he planning with all that?”
“To... eat?”
“He had eighty bowls of udon with him. Eighty.”
“That’s also a kind of human food, right?” says Her Highness. “That’s probably also for eating.”
“That’s...”
Enjou occasionally forgets that Her Highness, unlike him, was not born human. She has very little conception of how to properly care for the humanoid form she is sealed in.
Perhaps the same is true of Aether...?
Perhaps Aether isn’t sure how much he needs to eat, so he carries a lot of spare food just in case?
“...I suppose that’s not so suspicious,” he concedes.
Her Highness shrugs. “Unimportant, in the scheme of things—”
“No, it is important. I told him that he was suspicious and weird for carrying that food around! To his face!”
Her Highness scrutinises Enjou’s face.
“There, there,” she says eventually. “I’m sure he wasn’t offended. I wouldn’t be.”
“That is the rudest thing Paimon has ever heard!”
“It’s a lot of food to carry around, is all,” said Enjou.
“What do you mean, enough food to feed a village? Are you calling Paimon a glutton!?”
“Paimon, I’m sure he meant no offence,” said Aether placatingly. “Enjou, why did you lie to us?”
“Lie?” said Enjou, affronted. “I’ve been completely honest with you all! I really am a scholar with an expertise in the written language of Byakuyakoku. I really did come here in search of a book, and I really have been assisting you in your quest.”
“But... But you just said you’re with the Abyss Order!” sputtered Paimon.
“I never said I wasn’t. You just assumed Sangonomiya sent me.”
“He has a point,” said Aether.
“Well he— hey!” Paimon balled her fists. “Whose side are you on?”
“I mean... do we have to be on opposite sides?” said Aether.
“You hate the Abyss, Traveller! They took your twin away from you, you’re always saying that...”
“Right, but... Maybe I can make an exception for Enjou? He’s been lovely to us.”
“I... oh wow, this is awkward,” said Enjou. “I kind of was planning on betraying you guys, I’m gonna look like a fool if I don’t do something a little evil now...”
“You’re absolutely sure?” said Aether, blinking his big doe eyes.
“Well, you’ve beaten up so many of my subordinates these past few days,” said Enjou, “I figure you deserve payback for that at least.”
Aether sighed. “That... makes sense. Damn.” His sword had materialised in his hand.
“Yeah!” crowed Paimon. “That’s right. Stab him!”
Oh yeah now they were getting somewhere. Was it time for Enjou to transform yet?, to dramatically shed his disguise?
Hmm, he could at least lead into it.
“Oh-hoh, drawing your sword, huh?” Enjou said. “How very... escalatory.”
He tossed in a sinister cackle for good measure.
“I haven’t even turned into a flame flinging monster yet!” He added.
Aether nodded warily. “That’s true...”
“Yet,” said Enjou.
He paused, gauging Aether’s reaction, then added:
“Past tense.”
Still no reaction.
“That means now I’m going to turn—”
Paimon balled her fists. “Stab him already!”
“—into a flame flinging monster.”
A flash of beautiful darkness, the stars of the true night sky, enveloped Enjou. One moment, he was standing there, looking like a perfectly ordinary and unsuspicious human male with grey robes and glasses. The next? Oh, hoh, hoh. The next moment, Enjou stood before Paimon and Aether in his true form: that of an armour-clad Abyss Lector.
He towered over them—oh!, how he towered over them. His catalyst hovered before him, glowing more intensely than the magma of Natlan.
Enjou smiled and flexed his fingers, curling them into fists.
“Haha!” he cried. “Let the flames of redemption rage!”
“Well, that was an untruth,” said Aether quietly. “You don’t look like a monster at all.”
Enjou paused, a flame half-formed in his hand. “Um. Thank you?” he said.
“You’re welcome,” said Aether calmly.
“What the heck is going on? Stab him, stab him, stab him!” said Paimon, less calmly.
“I’d like to see you try,” smiled Enjou—this, too, was not a lie—and the flame glowed bright in his hand, and he flung it—
“He won,” says Enjou.
Her Highness looks a little smug—which is her right, because (as she so often puts it) acting a little imperious is one of the few actual perks of her job.
“You lectors think combat is a game of attrition with elemental shields; we’re older than the Elements and the Abyss... Of course my brother won.”
Enjou sighs. “When you put it that way...”
Her Highness leans forward. “How long did the fight last? Would you say... longer or shorter than ninety seconds?”
“Um...”
Enjou mumbles the next few words.
“Pardon?” says Her Highness.
“I said, less than a minute,” repeats Enjou sullenly. “Why does that matter, anyway? I’m a clerk, not a combat specialist.”
Her Highness waves breezily. “Oh, just fine-tuning a side project of mine,” she says.
She is probably referring to the torture chamber she built beneath Pilos Isle, the spiralling edifice of pain into which she tosses unruly subordinates, and from which, when they emerge moons later, they look dead inside, murmuring tales of spending every waking moment being beaten up by extremely impatient adventurers. It is said you should never mention the torture chamber in the Abyss Princess’ presence if you don’t want to end up there yourself.
“Is it the Pilos Isle torture chamber?” Enjou says, because he has no sense of self preservation, and also he is extremely curious. “Am I being sent there? For torture?”
“Who told you about that? And no, not you. At this rate I’m considering assigning you to somewhere bright and sunny with zero torture implements; you’d hate that more.”
“Hey!”
“Finish your damned report, lector.”
Wasn’t he supposed to be taller than Aether? Why did the Traveller look so big, standing over Enjou’s prone form? Even Paimon, hovering above Enjou with her hands on her hips, cut an intimidating sight, like a Celestial valkyrie, angel of death, in an oversized puffy white sweater.
“Phew,” said Enjou. “Well, I’m beat.”
The joke didn’t land but that was okay: he hadn’t put much effort into the delivery.
He made no move to stand—that would only invite more punishment, and as tempting as that was, his life was kind of on the line here. Aether’s sword was pointed right at his neck.
“In my defence,” said Enjou, “I’m a clerk. I normally have my head in a book. I don’t have your level of practice fighting. There was really no way I was winning this.”
“Have you considered not taking on someone you can’t beat?” said Aether.
The Traveller’s tone of voice was wary, but miraculously he didn’t sound too angry. Maybe there was some hope of a positive ongoing relationship then.
“Well, we all learned a little something today, I guess?” Enjou tried.
As he spoke, he surreptitiously reached out for the portal network. Its signal was weak down here beneath the Dainichi Mikoshi, but it still responded to his call. He’d need a minute to establish a strong enough link to portal out of danger.
“Paimon can’t believe you were making goo-goo eyes at this loser. Look at him! He’s an evil monster, exactly like Paimon warned you! So much for your... stupid fascination with him!”
“I mean... he is taller now,” said Aether.
“What does that have to do with anything?” said Paimon. “Finish him off before he pulls any more funny business!”
“Wait!” said Enjou, holding a hand out as Aether approached with a sword. “At least allow me my dying monologue?”
“No,” said Paimon, “Enjou is clearly stalling for time.”
“I want to hear him out,” said Aether.
“You’re an idiot!” Paimon said. She pushed at his sword arm, trying in vain to manuever the blade towards Enjou. “Argh!”
“Go on,” said Aether, “say your piece.”
“Well, you see,” said Enjou, “I wanted to get rid of you and then find some disguise with which I could claim that your mission was a failure.” The portal charge was halfway there now. Just a little longer... “I mean, the good guys don’t win in every story, right?”
“Why attack us?” said Aether, while Paimon groaned even more loudly.
“I mean... why not?” said Enjou...
“...and so, with my cover blown, I returned to the Abyss as soon as I could.”
“But what about the book?” says Her Highness.
“My cover was blown,” says Enjou.
“You don’t need the cover to go looking for a book,” says Her Highness incredulously. “You were already looking for the book before Aether arrived. Why stop now?”
Enjou blinks.
“I... hadn’t thought of that, Your Highness,” he says.
Her Highness’s hand drifts to the hilt of her sword.
“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t kill you—painlessly, lector—right here and now.”
“Um.” Enjou blinks rapidly. “It would be... bad for morale?”
Her Highness stares at him incredulously for a few seconds.
Then she sighs and folds her arms. Enjou lets out a breath he hadn’t noticed he was holding.
“...yeah, fine,” Her Highness mutters, “the annual employee survey did come back anti-smiting.”
She sits back down on the stool.
“That’s that, then,” she says. “Dismissed, lector—”
An Abyss mage bursts into the room.
“Your Highness!” it cries. “The Primordial Vishaps have returned our message!”
Enjou’s eyes light up. “Our double betrayal plan? It’s ready?”
Her Highness screws her eyes shut. “Ugh, you really are his type.”
“Pardon?”
“I said, you really should get out of my sight.”