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The first night is quiet. Too quiet, really. Ei is no stranger to quiet, having been holed up in the unnaturally still Plane of Euthymia for half a millenia with nothing beyond her thoughts and eternal nothingness, but this quiet is wrong. It is a quiet of her own design, a quiet borne from fear, fear for a Shogun who had forsaken her people and left them to fend for themselves against the insidious evils of the world. A symbol of her failure.
Ei locks herself up in the Tenshukaku, finally returned to her nation and her people, so close, and yet so very far away. Alone, her thoughts fester and simmer, bubbling up inside her mind until they threaten to overwhelm her with reminders of her inaction and the horrors it has caused her people. Abruptly, Ei stands from her seat on her bed, moving sharply up and out of her spot and heading over towards the window. Her movements are practiced, once finely honed into the deadliest of weapons and every step, every extension and flex of her muscles and joints is perfectly precise. Robotic, even.
Two paces away from the window, she stops, tilting her head at twenty degrees to angle her gaze up and out the window into the night sky. Against the inky blackness are the stars, glimmering into twisting shapes and patterns that tell the story of heroes and villains and everything in between. Somewhere, up above, Ei knows she can find herself, if only she let herself look.
A flash catches her eyes, a twinkle in the cosmos that has Ei turning her head forty-five degrees to the side as she hones in on her target. A star, but not just any star. It is one star among many, tracing out the image of a divine fox that makes her heart ache for something she cannot describe.
Centuries ago, it had been Ei tracing that path, drawing her finger through the air while Miko pretended that she couldn’t connect the dots, smirking that infuriating smirk as she asked if that was meant to be a “broken tent or something, honestly Ei that’s not a fox.”
Ei had shaken her head, laughing as she pulled Miko close, drawing the lines against her skin as she protested. “It’s a fox!” she had proclaimed, booping Miko gently on the nose, “Just like you.” Then and now, all Ei had ever seen was Yae Miko.
The memory makes her smile, Ei lost to the moment of reminiscence before a crack of thunder startles her out of her thoughts. She blinks, once, twice, before her awareness returns fully to her, and she realizes that she has leant forward, gripping the edge of the window tight enough to splinter. That must have been the crack, she thinks absently, glad that she has not accidentally called down the fury of the skies during her momentary loss of control. One broken railing is nothing compared to the destruction she could have reigned on her unsuspecting people below.
Letting go of the window, Ei moves back into her room, staring listlessly around her. She sees but does not comprehend the objects around her, pacing back and forth along the floorboards as tension builds within her thoughts, an everlasting pressure against her mind, tightening and tightening until all she wants to do is hurl herself off a cliff into the rushing waves below.
She settles instead for the Grand Narukami Shrine, transporting herself in a burst of lightning with no care for how the floorboards are singed as she disappears in a crack and reappears in a burst of energy and light at the Shrine. Not the most subtle of methods, but effective.
Ei appears at the entrance, the Sacred Sakura tree standing tall behind the building that blocks her way to it. It appears the same as it has for hundreds of years, a beacon of the eternity for which Ei strives for, glowing bright and stark against the night sky. Walking slowly, she circles the building, stepping towards the tree before pausing at the sight of another figure.
Their back is to her, but the two heavy ears, weighed down by distinctive earrings and a notable electro vision give away their identity. Ei does not overly excite herself, but her steps move with a sure swiftness that they did not previously possess until she is standing by Miko’s side.
Miko, who was staring up at the tree before turning when Ei makes her presence known. Her eyes are clouded, masked as she blinks quickly and the pensive expression on her face morphs into a bright smile. Any trace of surprise is wiped away as she exclaims, “Ei! Why, Your Excellency, I did not expect you to grace me with your presence tonight.”
“I did not plan on coming here,” Ei admits.
Immediately, Miko’s eyes take on a devious twinkle. “And yet you have come—to see me, then?”
Ei flushes, unsure of how to respond. She did not come here for Miko, but she did not not come here for her, either.
Her indecision, along with the clear unsurety of her response must be clear because Miko only smirks, stepping closer to Ei and meeting her gaze head-on. There is equal parts joy and mischief in those electric orbs, crackling with a sense of power and surety that Ei does not remember in her Miko. She cannot say that it does not look good on her, though.
“All this way, and just for little ol’ me? Why, Ei, I don’t know what to think,” Miko drawls, moving towards Ei before changing course at the last moment to step to her side. She reaches out, hand trailing along Ei’s shoulder and back as she begins to circle. “Some people might start assuming things if you keep this up.”
As if drawn by her hand, Ei copies the motion, keeping eye-contact as she turns with Yae, the two drawn in a slow dance of their own design, neither willing to back down tension builds. Yae’s movements are purposefully slow, projecting each step for Ei to follow as she guides them around, waiting for something to break.
And oh, does Ei rise to the challenge. “Let them,” she asserts, eyes never leaving Yae’s. “I have nothing to hide and everything I might offer I give freely to you, Miko.”
Yae has no choice but to melt in the face of such earnestness, such sheer honesty filled with love and adoration and the way Ei is looking at her threatens to upend her very state of being into one of complete and utter disarray. She has spent five hundred years waiting for this moment, planning and scheming and pushing pieces around on the chessboard of Inazuma until everything fell into place. Every action had been measured a dozen times over, every decision and every effect analyzed to the point of nearly ripping her hair out until everything had been to her satisfaction. And when everything played out exactly as it should have, Yae sitting back in the background? That had been everything she had earned and more.
All that, and this the culmination of her machinations, Ei before her, open and vulnerable and so, so giving. It makes Yae want to swoon.
Ei is, of course, there to catch her. “Miko? Are you okay?” She peers concernedly down at Yae, resting comfortably in her arms as she bats her eyes at her God.
“With you? Always,” she replies, eyelashes fluttering as she throws her head back, hand on her forehead. Briefly, before she straightens quickly enough to startle Ei and throw her arms around her shoulders. “Anyways, what brings you to my corner of this world tonight, Ei? You look…out of sorts.” She does not know what has disturbed Ei so, but she did not scheme her way through endless intrigue and violence for Ei to falter now.
“I—” Ei pauses, stiffening before relaxing into Yae’s arms, allowing her weight to be supported slightly by Yae. “I don’t know, truly,” she says slowly, “I find myself…troubled, recently. My reflections on my past actions have not yielded the results I would have wished for, and my days have been stuck between fruitless meditation and conflicts between myself and the Raiden Shogun.”
“Your puppet, you mean.”
Ei freezes, caught halfway in a step before continuing, mind miles away as Yae leads her towards her quarters at the back of the shrine. “Yes,” she confirms, “the Raiden Shogun. She does not take kindly to being called a puppet, and I cannot say with complete certainty that she is anything resembling one anymore.”
“Oh?” For Ei’s sake, Yae pretends to be interested, but she really could not concern herself less with that blasted puppet. It, the very symbol of her failure in protecting and serving Ei, an everlasting wall against her and her happiness. She despises it. And it has no place in her future with Ei, none whatsoever.
“Her programming set certain constraints and guidelines for her behavior, but in the centuries that she has existed, she has begun to grow. Adjusting and interpreting my definition of eternity until it has become her own, and she follows her own path, now. Our discussions have yielded much insight, but I am not sure how to continue as our visions for eternity diverge.”
Yae tunes back in just as Ei finishes talking, hands twisting themselves into knots of frustrations as she airs her grievances. She catches enough to get the gist of it and frowns. There is more Ei wants to say, but she is holding herself back. Whether it be due to her own struggles or a lack of faith in Miko’s counsel, she does not know, but this puppet of Ei’s sounds ever more like it could be a problem. She will have to figure out how to deal with it, but for now, she is content to bask in Ei’s attention and offer her advice as necessary. Hmm, perhaps it’s time to push Ei in the right direction.
“Have you considered a more direct confrontation?” Yae asks. She lets her arm fall, moving from Ei’s shoulder to rest in the crook of her arm as she leans against her. “Your fundamental differences will only continue to widen unless you assert your position as Inazuma’s Archon. Or simply reprogram her.” She shrugs, continuing, “You made her, right? Just fix her.”
Ei frowns, and Yae sighs. Not the right move, then. “I do not think I can. The ethical implications of my interference with an intelligent being is distressing. To be honest, I am at a loss with how to work with her. I have shirked my responsibilities for far too long, and although it is daunting to be faced with them once more, I refuse to ignore them any longer. I must do right by the Raiden Shogun, even if it takes a thousand years or more.”
“I suppose. If you must.” Yae really does not understand where the fit of moral righteousness came from, but if Ei wants to be a responsible puppet mother, far be it from her to stop her. It’s honestly cute. In a stubbornly frustrated, hard-headed manner, but oddly endearing. Huh. She’ll have to think about that.
“Yes.” Ei looks adorably serious, her features set, eyes hardened and mouth a firm line as she nods. “But this is my responsibility, Miko. Not yours. Thank you for listening to me talk.”
“Of course, Ei. What kind of familiar would I be if I didn’t?” Yae asks.
Ei’s frown intensifies briefly as she stops, turning to face Yae completely as her hands move to settle on Yae’s shoulders with a serious weight. She meets Yae’s eyes, purple orbs igniting with godly power. “You are more than just a familiar, Miko. You are the High Priestess of the Grand Narukami Shrine and the beacon of light that all of Inazuma turns to in times of darkness. You are the light of my life and I would give myself freely for you to have and to hold because I know that you will keep me safe.”
Such eloquence is out of place for an Archon who stumbled over telling Yae that she liked her a mere half a millennia ago, and all Yae wants to do is burrow herself deep into Ei, dig a hole in her chest and curl up forevermore, and now she knows that she can. It is so, so tempting to do so. “Sleep with me tonight,” she blurts out, before catching herself from jerking forward gainlessly into Ei.
Ei pauses at the interruption, purple orbs turning into slits as she inspects Yae. “Are you okay? You seem a bit off tonight. You’re not sick, are you?” She moves to place her hand against Yae’s forehead, but Yae dodges it easily enough and evades Ei’s next move to pull her close.
“Yes!” she yelps, “I’m perfectly fine! Ei! Ei, no, stop it!” Her protests are for naught as Ei nearly manhandles her into standing still while she presses her ear to Yae’s chest and checks her pulse against her throat with the back of her hand. Yae flushes, but allows herself to be gripped firmly by Ei.
“You don’t seem sick…” Ei murmurs, inspecting Yae as if she were a piece of porcelain that fell off a table, checking for cracks or chips. “But you were quite out of character. You are usually never so direct. Are you sure that you are alright?”
“I’m fine!” Yae insists, “You’re just being ridiculous.”
Ei’s face is one of fond disbelief, and Yae sighs. She’s not getting anywhere with this stubborn idiot. “I missed you, Ei.” She stresses the word, so that Ei knows she truly means business. “These past centuries have been long, and lonely without you by my side. Is it too much to ask for me to sleep in your arms for one night?”
Pulling back, Ei’s looks at Yae with an undisguised sort of yearning, desperate and wanting but so, so cautious. Any other time and Yae would think it beautifully chivalrous and romantic, but she is sick and tired of this limbo they have found themselves in after she pulled Ei out of her Plane of Euthymia. She wants Ei, misses her like the sea misses the shore, like a part of her that was torn out when Ei left and it is now just tantalizingly out of reach. She just wants to be held again.
“Of course, Miko.” Ei offers Yae her arm once more, waiting for her to take it before she moves. “Let us sleep together.”
And they sleep.
Ei wakes and her first thought is that she cannot breathe. Someone must be attacking her in her sleep, suffocating her in her own bed in a moment of weakness alongside Miko—thinking of her Miko, defenseless in the face of such danger makes her start, eyes flaring open in a flash of purple and her mouth opening in a battle cry.
Or, that was the goal. Instead Ei opens her mouth and gets a mouth full of fur for her troubles, eyes blinking through sheets full of fluff as she tries to jerk her body into action against this unseen threat. Spitting out the immeasurable amount of cottony stuffing in her mouth, Ei pushes herself up into a sitting position to ascertain the source.
Looking around, she doesn’t see anything out of the ordinary except for the pink pile of fur beside her. It doesn’t hit her until the fur begins to twitch, and then all at once she sees the light.
“Miko,” Ei breathes out, staring at her in absolute awe, “your tails!” She nearly gasps as Miko quirks her head, tails fluttering out in confusion as Ei reaches out before pausing. She doesn’t press, but she’s sure Miko can read the anticipation and hope shining in her eyes clearer than any sign from Celestia.
“What about them, Ei?”
“You have. Five of them!” Ei exclaims, mind spinning through possibilities before settling on the only possible explanation. When she left Miko, all those years ago, the young kitsune had only just recently gained her second. Five hundred years and the blink of an eye later, and Miko had earned three more. What had she done? What had she lived through? What had Ei missed?
“Yes?” Bleary and confused, Miko doesn’t seem to really register Ei’s words, tilting her head up to glare irritably at the disturbance before flinging her head back into the pillow. “What about it?”
“You’ve grown,” Ei says. She doesn’t know what else to say, but she knows that she must say it. “You’ve grown, and it’s been so long, and I missed so much. I love you Miko, and in my foolishness, I’ve given up so much time, so many memories with you that I—”
Grumbling, Miko sits up to glare at Ei for interrupting her sleep. “Ei, I am very tired and you have just woken me up from the first good sleep I’ve had in centuries to pay homage to my tails?” She flutters them for effect before sighing. “I am going to say this once, and then you are going to hold me while I go back to sleep, okay?”
Ei nods.
“Good.” Miko looks satisfied before her face turns pensive, mulling over her words before she speaks again. “I am not the same person I was, five-hundred years ago. I have changed, and I have grown. All alone, I had no choice but to do so, and this is me, now, Ei.” Ei opens her mouth, but Miko holds up her hand, stopping her before continuing, “I know this. You know this. Can we just, stop thinking about the past, and focus on the future? Please? You do not know the agony I have lived through for the last few centuries, and right now, they. Do. Not. Matter. Do you understand?”
Silenced, Ei closes her mouth and nods. Miko is so eloquent. So sure and well-spoken and she is a vision.
Squinting, Miko stares disbelievingly at her. Her left ear, the one not weighed down by a vision, twitches. As does her tail. “You’re still thinking about something. Out with it, Ei.”
Unable to stop herself, Ei blurts out, “They’re…just so beautiful, Miko.” She’s baffled at how Miko does not marvel at the wonder of herself and the endless complexities and power that goes into her being. Ei sees her and she is in awe. “You’ve grown, so, so much, and you are so incredibly beautiful.”
She wants to say more, wants to write her poems and paragraphs paying homage to her beauty and grace, wants to take the essence of Yae Miko and immortalize the material things that honor her, but Ei is interrupted by a violent face full of fluff, Miko’s tails swinging into her one after the other as she turns in the bed.
“Stop thinking about it,” Miko grumbles. “I can hear you thinking from here.”
“But—”
“Stop thinking about it.” Another admonishing whack of a tail and Ei is chastened into silence.
“Okay.” Ei contemplates moving, getting up and going about the rest of her day, but one look at Miko, on her stomach with her face planted in the pillow as she snores lightly, and the resolve flows out of her in waves until she lies back down. Plus, she promised Miko to hold her while she slept. Moving to lay on her side, Ei makes sure to wrap her arms around Miko and hold on tight.
By the time Miko rouses herself once more, the sun is sitting high in the sky and Ei is beginning to feel restless, too many thoughts and feelings threatening to overwhelm her with the force of their depth and magnitude. Miko senses this, somehow. Whether it be through the familiar bond, the love that had sustained her for centuries, or simply just a sixth sense, she reads Ei like a particularly well-worn book and bids her goodbye after a quick kiss.
Ei follows her, wanting to hold on to every second she can with Miko, but Miko leaves her at the Tenshukaku’s doorsteps, citing issues with her publication house and shrine duties. She says that, but Ei knows that she is leaving her to her thoughts and contemplation. She appreciates Miko's silent understanding, even better than Ei’s comprehension of her own self.
Miko’s words ring in her head. I am not the same person I was, five-hundred years ago. I have changed, and I have grown. All alone, I had no choice but to do so, and this is me, now, Ei. She shivers, the chill of the mountain air only heightening her discomfort as she grapples with the realization that Miko is no longer the small little fox that had sought safety and warmth in Ei’s arms. She is a kitsune, well on her way to grown, and Ei had not been there for the transformation. She will still struggle, she knows, to reconcile the Miko that she knew and the Miko that is, but Ei is here, now. And she will do better. For Inazuma, and for Miko.