Work Text:
Kazuha could barely breathe with his own sword pressed too close to his neck, his adam's apple hitting the cool metal of the blade as the platinum blonde pants, exhausted from the fight. The one-sided altercation exhausted the swordsmen while Scaramouche didn’t tire or even appear bothered by the exchange; the only hint that a fight happened is his panting.
His mind and eyes wandered from his sword’s point up to the balladeer’s torso then to his face. Scaramouche’s electric purple eyes shine with smug confidence and triumph with a matching smile. His face is framed by beautiful short midnight purple hair, it sways with every puff of air.
Scaramouche’s knees on either side of his chest as he holds the sword to his neck. His hat’s veil trails on either side of Kazuha’s head, almost like curtains hiding the two from the world. It bathes both of them in pale moonlight, enhancing the purple-haired man’s features but highlighting every curve and edge of the other’s lithe frame. It is oddly intimate for two strangers, especially for one attempting to kill the other.
The blonde wonders if his breathlessness is truly from the blade to his throat or if it is the beauty before him.
Am I going to be killed by an angel? The Kaedehara descendant deliriously thinks.
“You’re beautiful,” Kazuha hears himself say, a choked whisper, barely audible. And yet, Scaramouche hears it, apparent as he chokes on air. The smug confidence of before fades into wide-eyed flustered confusion. It’s cute, Kazuha thinks, it is very cute.
The blade moves back, at the same time the thick fog of electro energy left over from their confrontation instantly dissipates. Scaramouche quickly moves back, Kazuha speedily sits up, taking a deep breath with no threat of death lingering at his throat.
“I-” He sputters; Scaramouche almost appears angry but there is no manic glee in his gaze, not like before when they were fighting. Kazuha can barely react before the Balladeer’s eyes narrow, electro energy building. The blonde barely calls on his Anemo vision but the harbinger is too quick, like a bolt of lightning the man moves behind Kazuha. There is a sharp sting to the back of his neck, the world fades to black around him.
The puppet leads the wandering samurai softly to the ground. His sword, now, lays down its master, violet eyes linger for a moment before leaving. Unworried about thieves or treasure hoarders as the ruin they fought in is well hidden from prying eyes.
The Balladeer makes a quick escape, leaving the last remnant of Kaedahara Clan passed out on the ground.