Chapter Text
Sayu yawns and dispassionately waves at them. Wisps of Anemo energy coalesce around the young ninja, easily identifiable by the traveler by this point.
When she gets out of earshot, the traveler waits another few seconds, just to be safe, and whispers at Venti, "Oh wow, the rare person you've given a Vision to that's not heavily traumatized."
Venti innocently blinks at them. Second time.
“Because Sayu isn’t … right?”
"Wait, really?" Paimon interjects. "How is that your criteria?"
They take pity on Venti who looks conflicted by Paimon’s words. "They're all people who have had to define freedom for themselves, aren’t they?"
“Couldn’t have said it better myself, dear traveler.” There’s relief clear in his tone.
Paimon still looks at him with suspicion for some time.
A shout, and the tense balance cracks and shatters under the feet of running soldiers.
The two sides reach each other, sink into each other with swords and lances for teeth, chaos mounting around from the sheer number of people. There's no honor bound rules of a duel anymore and in seconds the traveler is separated from Venti and surrounded by a dozen of Shogunate people, all eager to put her down with any tricks necessary. She's careful to limit herself, knocking them out without lasting harm.
Around, not everyone has that courtesy. Not everyone can afford that courtesy.
Fewer dare engage her as the battle goes on. She glances around, cataloguing their progress.
.. They're clearly losing. Soldiers of the resistance - people of the resistance, half of them are not even soldiers - lose ground and blood to the army's swords. Kujou Sara leads her people to separate the lesser numbers of the resistance, despite Gorou urging them to keep together.
The traveler is not quite sure what they would do if this battle was lost. Run further, further until the islands ended, until there would be nowhere left to go, surrounded by a sea and a murderer god.
Too fatalistic. She grips her sword stronger and calls upon the winds, dispersing the enemy in front. Venti's currents resonate with hers, though she can't see him still. The resonance thrums, familiar lightness taking over her body, imbuing her movements with winds’ ease-
-snaps into nothing the next second, leaving her stumbling for a moment breathless and heavy.
Hydro's soothing energy instead mixes in with the air, little drip drops of water going up and down, elemental magic strong and potent curling around the most wounded and calling attention away to a new appearance. Gorou, delighted, welcomes her loud enough to give a second breath to everyone.
Then, with Kokomi's reinforcements, it's back to fighting. Arrows fly from all sides until slowly, hesitantly, soldiers back away, less desperate to lay down their life on the line, and Kujou Sara has to admit defeat.
As people of the resistance cheer, loud and unrestrained, the traveler fruitlessly spins around in the crowd, looking for a splash of teal green.
She can feel that Venti isn't too far, hasn't completely left the field. The traveler leaves Paimon with Gorou and Kokomi, promising to return soon, and goes looking.
A minute away, where sounds from the field start fading into background noise and the sand is less perturbed, has few signs of the battle, she spots him by his cape, back turned to land. The water's calm and smooth, barely a ripple going through.
She slows down, steps growing heavier. He's hunched over, has yet to turn even though she knows he knows she's here.
"Venti..." She trails off, unsure of what to say. "Why'd you leave?" She settles on.
After a tad too long pause, he answers, "seemed like they had it under control. I've played my role."
"Role?" She repeats.
She gets nothing more.
"Are you against the resistance?"
That couldn't, shouldn't be true. Venti wouldn't choose a single god's decision over humans' desires.
She still asks, because she still doesn’t understand where the thorn does hide. Doesn't want to leave it as is, leave him not understood.
She gets a glare for her efforts. Deserved.
Venti speaks intentionally steady, calm, so quiet, “no, of course not.”
“Then what? Why’d you leave?”
“Too loud.”
“Oh.” There’s more hiding behind those clipped words, but it’s fair enough.
In comparison to the chaotic battlefield, this spot is deceptively peaceful. She lets herself just breathe for a few seconds, listening to the noise of the waves instead of the ringing in her ears.
“I’ll head back,” she says. “Paimon and Gorou are probably waiting.”
“…right.” She has to strain her ears to make it out. “I’ll be back s-soon.” The control over his tone cracks, becomes strangled. As she looks, worried, Venti curls into himself even more.
She thinks of the moments she’d been overwhelmed or lost. “They can wait. I can stay,” she offers. She wants to stay.
He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t tell her to leave, so she stays. Looks at the horizon, where, far away, Mondstadt should be.
Breathes in. Breathes out.
“I’m scared for them.”
Having expected silence from him, it takes her by surprise enough she flounders answering. “The resistance seems to be doing well though. They have a lot of support. A lot of good people are on their side.”
Venti grits out, “not enough.”
“Not enough? Why?
Venti shakes his head quickly. “The battle has still happened.”
“And they- we won. Shogun’s army had to retreat.”
“It doesn’t matter!”
“What do you mean-”
"In a land of gods, people aren't supposed to fight wars!" Venti cries out. "Not against their gods. Not against people."
"They don't have a choice, do they?" The traveler retorts. "Either obey the decree, become a soldier under the Shogunate, or run to the resistance and find themselves on the other side of the same fight. And for those with visions, even that choice is taken away."
Venti finally looks at her, fiery hurricane in his eyes taking her by surprise. "Baal could come here and decimate everyone and everything around. Or even carefully kill only those that decided to be part of the resistance. This is going on only because she doesn't care!" Venti heatedly gestures to his left, where a couple of broken and used arrows are washed up on the shore from the battle. "Nobody here poses a threat to her. They're alive, because Baal will get what she wants anyway, and people are needed to make a country."
"Do you think they won't succeed?"
Venti gets a pained look. "They will. I know they will win."
She stares, confused.
"Because people's desire for freedom is stronger than a God's will."
Understanding dawns on her, stealing the feeling of solid earth under her feet. "Old Mondstadt and their god." How similar must've this battle seem to Venti?
"He died," Venti hisses. Then shuts his eyes and looks away. "But no cost is too great. Not for this."
Whatever she was about to say gets stuck in her throat, tears into her insides and refuses to move.
She understands, for the first time, why Venti is the god of freedom.
"This won't end until the decree is abolished. They'll persevere no matter what, even though it means nothing to the Shogun. Even though it means death to them. It goes beyond that." Venti’s voice is raw, frustration fully taken over by dim resignation. The words hang in the silence like condemnation.
"You don't want them to stop," the traveler says. "It's just painful seeing anyone have to pay that price again." She gets closer, paying attention to every minute reaction. "But you're also glad the resistance is there, that people are fighting for their freedom with all they have, because that's what you stand for."
By this point they're standing right beside his chosen sitting place, close enough to look up into his eyes, catch the slight flinch and trace the lines between his eyebrows.
They hoist themselves up on his level. Circle their arms around him. Press tighter when he barely reacts.
"Funny," they tell him. "Seems to me, this resistance is much more eternal than the Shogun's attempts to grasp it."
Venti lets out a surprised watery chuckle and fInally leans into them.
The next days go down in a whirlwind, quickly and painfully, like a fall with a broken glider, like helplessly watching history from the other side, like accepting their part in this tied their limbs to this earth in shackles, like feeling the poison spread over minutes the length of days and nothing is right.
Like witnessing that perseverance push people to waste away, like learning that Fatui take conscious advantage of that drive for rebellion, for freedom, offer unreachable power and take everything else in exchange. Like Teppei went down to never wake up again in front of them, too quickly, too far gone too deep in the deal with death, like so many other soldiers did.
Like them going down in seconds, deep deep down in a Fatui Delusion factory, deeper down in hatred and anger and it's unclear where their anger ends and where the ancient god's festering rage that's bigger than life begins, poisoning them, suffocating and bursting them in pieces from inside.
Venti tastes the familiar presence of sizzling cold lead on his tongue, makes room for the rage, has already enough space in himself for that remainder of the wars. It doesn't fit, it's hard to breathe and he wishes he could take out his lyre to soothe the cultivated unrest of this place with a timeless melody, but he still stands. Stands and sees Lumine silently cry out and fall, unresponsive to Paimon's cries, completely limp as the harbinger gets closer, delight openly written on his face, a promise to harm.
Corroded fury cannot swallow and assimilate Venti, cannot tear apart one that's bigger than it.
Fear lodges itself between his heart and his head, stabs his limb in place and calls.
Delusion victims' mounting apprehension as life slowly slips through their fingers, ancient gods' terror of untimely death and the reworking of the world. Paimon's spark of fear, the shadows swirl, hungry to attack, good little trained piranhas of the Fatui-
Venti goes down to Scaramouche's empty laughter and footsteps behind him.
