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Raiden Ei didn’t think she could believe in soulmates.
It’s simply implausible that the universe was so filled with chances that it knew the right person to pair her with—that, out of a million living souls, hers is out there somewhere. She can think of a hundred things that is terribly wrong about the way that this works—one, because she can’t see herself being in love with anybody, two, the concept of soulmates is entirely too sadistic because nobody knows what happens once the attachment is formed and one day her other half has to go, three , there is the impending possibility that she’ll hate her soulmate and it’ll be terrible when she does.
She’s had her mark since she was born—a mark with her soulmate’s handwriting, writing her last words, “Tell me you love me.” She has scoured a thousand papers for someone to whom this handwriting belongs—secretaries, soldiers, and even poor Sara found herself victim to Ei’s searching. She sits still in the tall chair in her office, one leg kicked over the other as she looks at the mark sprawled across her wrist. Then, she hears a familiar voice all out to her from outside, instantly breaking her thoughts.
“My dear Shogun,” greets the unwanted guest. In comes the prancing Yae Miko, gracing her presence into the office with a flowery breeze following her inside. Ei sneers at her, averting her attention elsewhere with the knowledge that Miko’s presence could mean anything but good will. She returns to her papers, sifting through them to occupy her mind. “Are you going to ignore me, sweet thing?”
“Haven’t I reminded you numerous times to knock?”
“Aw, I figured old friends had discounts,” replies Miko, having no care for the world. She leans forward, sliding her chest against the table in an attempt to touch Ei, it would seem like, but Ei catches her wrist before she can reach further. “There’s something in your hair,” she clarifies truthfully, pursing her lips. Her sleeve falls back to reveal a patch of naked skin, to which Ei’s gaze falls. Her attention is piqued when she notices something that looks oddly like her own soulmark—then something that looks suspiciously like her handwriting—
“I love you,” they write and Ei almost recoils from shock. She rises from her chair, yanking Yae even closer to get a better look of the mark. She’s certain it’s her own handwriting and beyond that, their last words make sense with each other. “This is my handwriting,” she yells, looking Yae in her eyes. She expects confusion, surprise, something that would hint that she didn’t know this before—but her expression, instead, softens and her eyes flicker away. Her face settles into a knowing expression, and she holds her silence.
That’s the tragic thing about star-crossed prophecies.
Practicality would suggest that there’s no such thing as fate, and someone as rational as Ei would have fully believed in that theory. Yet the stars are such deceiving little things, twinkling upon the world with those menacing little shimmers, knowing they are too far to be throttled. You can pretend you want it to be someone else, then someone along the way, you realise your person could only be yours and nobody else’s—then when that epiphany hits, nothing makes sense anymore. No amount of denial, or desperation, or ignorance would save Ei from something as permanent as this.
And she knows it.
“Yae Miko,” she eununciates. She walks around the table, facing the woman that has conveniently walked into her office and brought with it such an epiphany that she no longer knows what to do with herself. She pulls back her sleeve, revealing her own mark. “Why the hell did you never tell me?” she scolds, feeling betrayed more than anything. Betrayed by so many things—the world, because now she’s physically bound to someone she can’t stay around for more than two minutes, and her soulmate, who’d been in front of her this whole time but elected to keep that information to herself.
“There’s a reason I was trying to get closer to you, Ei,” is all Yae says, shier now. There’s something she knows—something she isn’t telling but she must know what that is. She wouldn’t be so flushed if it were any other interaction, and it certainly can’t be because they’re soulmates because Yae has been teasing her for the past five hundred years and longer than she can remember. Ei stands closer, looking into Yae’s eyes with a blank look in her own.
“I don’t understand,” she narrows her eyes. “You knew before, and you didn’t tell me.”
“Because—” Yae starts in an exasperated manner, staggering backwards. She pauses for a moment, searching her mind for an appropriate answer when that’s precisely what she lacks. “I didn’t know how to tell you, okay? I found out some time ago but we hadn’t spoken in five hundred years, and you were still busy with everything, and I was still busy with everything so there was no time for us to work anything out, and besides, you hate me—”
“When has that ever stopped you, Miko?” Ei lifts an eyebrow in an unimpressed manner. It’s strange how coolly she seems to have digested the information, despite knowing that her soulmate is effectively the last person on earth she’d like it to be. Yae’s tail starts swishing about in the air to show her nervousness, and any attempt at hiding it is clearly failing her. Ei narrows her eyes, shaking her head.
“Do you hate me, Ei?”
Ei turns her back to her. She lowers her head, and shakes it. “No, Miko, I don’t.” And slowly, they learn to forgive each other for not being what they wanted each other to be.
───────
You’ll realise, somewhere along the way, that the more you try to resist something, it’s going to take a roundabout way to find you and nab you twice as hard. It’s going to latch onto your heart, shake it and whisper persuasions into your ear when you sleep, so when you go to bed, all you can think about is the mark on your wrist, and how much you should’ve realised that your soulmate could only be one person. For Ei, deep down, she knows it could have been no one apart from Yae. It would have always been Yae, whether it was a thousand years ago, or a thousand years later.
At some point, they were the greatest of friends—maybe even a little more—but look at them now. Ei’s drifting in the middle of her eternal lifetime, roused after a thousand year slumber to a revelation certainly worth centuries’ worth of shock. Yae, struggling to hide a secret from the only woman she’s loved with her whole heart, praying that somehow they’ll reconcile a relationship that had been broken from before. Over the past years, they’ve both been searching for parts of each other that they’d only find in each other—searching for excuses, so many excuses.
Maybe that’s why Ei denied all thoughts of soulmates for so long, why she never thought about marriage even though it would be nice to settle with someone eventually. When her generals have passed away, and all that’s left of the world is her and a crumbling regime, it’d be nice to have someone she loves beside her side. Alas, there is so much that two hearts can take—because how much mending, and repairing and fixing can you do with a loveless relationship?
Ei lives every day with the same worry—that somehow her destiny wishes to torture her in more ways than her heart can bear. Each day, she watches Yae from a distance, sometimes lingering outside her shrine, or watching as she frolics on the fields with a basket in her hands, or seeing her tease some of the generals when she visits the Tenshukaku. She is so full of love, and so many bright, flamboyant details that Ei feels almost bad for dragging her palette knife against a vivid canvas of colours.
Yae lives each day in the cycle of sinking, and sinking so far deep that she can no longer see the surface. She’s been weaving a web of stupor and lies, but sometimes, she thinks, in between watching Ei walk out to her office with the same frown of her face, or leaning against open windows to take a moment to breathe, that she’ll never be good enough for her. Maybe they’re not good enough—maybe they were never—but they’re soulmates and that’s the raw, painful, bitter thing about destiny.
Beyond the marks on their wrists, slowly, they learn to love each other.
───────
Love isn’t what you think it is. It’s praying for them before long journeys, and counting stars with bated breaths, and waiting for them to come back, and knowing that they’ll come back for you every time. Ei learns this when she’s with Yae; what it means to be so deeply in love with somebody. She learns, over months, years and centuries, that she’d been, at some point, so cynical and too moody to be in love. She failed to see past the mischievous facade to see the Yae that has been waiting for her since she left, since she abandoned her in a search for herself.
Ei, however, fails to understand that love is too brittle to last for eternity. Like all things brittle and glass, it breaks at the rough, jagged hands of fate. It’s strange how quickly, and easily, someone can become a part of your life once you start really looking for them. It’s strange, too, how quickly and easily they can slip beneath your fingers, leaving a trail of crimson pouring in its path.
Death is such an unprecedented thing, especially for immortals. But no life can precede death, and that is something all souls know deep down. There is something so sadistically beautiful about it, the same way that cherry blossoms are—so pretty, yet so weak in the cold, and so awfully on schedule, and the one thing between them both is that death was not meant to happen. On such a summer afternoon, lying by a flowing river and with an audience of sakura trees, things should not have turned out like this. Ei falls to her knees, clasping Yae’s weak body in her hands, the spear of an arrow shot through her heart.
Ei glares at the soldier from the opposing army, standing on the other side of the river with their bows wielded at them. It had been an unexpected attack, catching them off attention before either of them knew what to do. It should not have turned out this way—not when they are the only ones who would come here, and the only ones that knew that they’d be here on weekend afternoons. Ei’s hands quiver as a small, disbelieved sound squeezes out of her throat. Blood pours onto her pale palms and she breaks out into cold sweat, not knowing what to do with her lover’s limp body in her arms.
“Miko… Miko,” she cries softly, lightly tapping her cheeks to wake her. Yae treads the thin line between consciousness and not, but Ei’s worst fear is that she’ll tip over the edge before she’s too vulnerable to do anything. The shield she cast around them will soon breath as the enemies continue to pelt charged attacks at them from the other side of the river, screaming like brutes at the top of their lungs. Ei squeezes her eyes shut and holds Yae closer because no, she may not be familiar with this tumultuous feeling that has completely ravaged her insides, but she knows that she can’t live without Yae. She doesn’t know what it’ll mean for them both once she’s gone.
It shouldn’t have happened so soon—no, and it never should’ve been like this. It should’ve been peaceful, a thousand years later when their time to watch over Teyvat has long extended its course and they may lie in a peaceful meadow to hibernate for eternity. But Ei, as she’s holding the writhing body of her dying lover, realises that it’s all her fault. It’s her fault for making enemies, and for not being attentive because she was foolish enough to think nobody would find out where they disappeared off to during afternoons, and for not being quick enough to have caught the arrow. “Miko, talk to me! Miko!” Ei screams, clasping onto her shoulders in desperation.
You would never think something so dreadful could happen on a day such as this—the perfect summer sky, with patchwork clouds and azure blue. The sun smiles upon the world with its cascading rays, and a passing breeze twists a cherry blossom of a branch. Yae flinches as she shakes her head, wrapping the fingers around the arrow. “I don’t think I can be saved. They poisoned it.”
“The arrow?” Ei questions, and without wasting a moment, tries to pry it out of her chest. She knows, doing so in a moment in a panic might only worsen the bleeding and she mustn’t be hasty, but her shield is cracking and she is seconds away from spiralling into insanity at the thought of losing her lover. Yae coughs, pressing a hand against her chest. Blood pools against the corners of her mouth, dripping onto the ground and dirtying the pristine grass. Grass flowers fold under the weight of the thick blood, crumpling under the pressure. Yae extends her hand weakly, holding Ei’s shoulder. She pulls her closer weakly.
“Stop, Ei… Let me go,” she wishes, and Ei is entirely reluctant to obey. Her breath is thinning and the palpitations in her chest have started to wane, succumbing to the feeling of defeat. Ei’s eyes have gotten swollen from the threat of oncoming tears and her cheeks are easily much redder. Her hands are shaking, and she knows no way to calm her nerves because she has never known fear like she does now. She swallows the lump in her throat and shakes her head firmly. “Ei, isn’t today’s summer sky so poetic?”
“Miko, stop joking around—”
“I have everything I ever wanted,” Yae cuts off, rubbing a thumb against her shoulder, as though trying to etch words into her skin. With her frail hands, she can never manage it if she tried, but death is so cruel to allow every mortal and immortal a failing chance at trying again. Destined to fail it may be, but both of them are still grovelling in the hope that somehow all will be well and a mere arrow could never injure an immortal herself but oh, if only they weren’t excuses. “I have you, darling,” Yae whispers, reaching her hand higher. Ei lifts her face leaning it against the cusp of Yae’s palm.
She smiles, but each movement of her muscle sends an excruciating ache ricocheting throughout her body. She tries to shift into a more comfortable position, but she understands eventually that it’s too late for her to bother. “I can’t leave you here,” Ei panics, voice shaking. “Let me take you home, and I’ll get the medic who can treat you—”
“Darling,” Yae hushes again. “I’m content as it is. I’m happy.”
“This isn’t about you!” Ei snaps, slapping her arm away. She cups Yae’s face in her hands and pulls her closer, unaware of the harshness in her tone. “I don’t know what I’ll do without you. I’ve never cared for anybody like you, and—and I can’t see myself where there isn’t you. I’ll never be able to do work, and I’ll never be able to leave the house because everything reminds me of you… And you don’t understand, I’m nothing without you, Miko. Please,” she begs, and her voice shatters like glass.
She is no stranger to loss—she has lost her dear friends, her twin, and she can do anything but allow herself to suffer the death of her soul’s other half. She knows death well—how much it despises her, how much hatred it leaves in its wake and what twisted form it wishes to see her in. She won’t let it get the best of her, she tells herself, but she has been a victim to rage for too long. Yae doesn’t stop her from talking, not because she has lost the strength, but because she knows that Ei will never be able to admit her feelings to anybody else, if it’s not her.
Ei’s eyes flare indigo and as a final attack is pelted at the shield, it shatters. It unleashes a shockwave of energy, instantly knocking the entire enemy of men off their feet. In the centre of the attack, a shield crystallises and hugs the two of them, protecting them from the cruel world. Both of them should have expected such a tragic ending to such a tale of misfortune. She’d known it from before, through instinct and premonitions, that she would mean no good for Yae.
“Ah-ah, why do I see guilt in those eyes?” Yae points out, clicking her tongue disapprovingly. It’s the only time she has ever tried to sound kind, and perhaps it’s an act of redemption in the final moments of her life. Somehow, without her death, it feels like she has already reached a state of actualisation, and achieved a certain degree of acceptance that nothing can pull her out of this moment. Ei caresses her and finally, all the guilt she’d been burrowing away unleashes through tears.
“Please don’t leave me,” Ei begs, lowering her head against Yae’s chest. She tries, even now, to fight for an ending that’s better than this, to somehow, with this power of hers to revive her from this inevitable state of being whisked away. Her chest heaves heavier as each breath quickens, darkness engulfing her as though she has already reached the end. No, she yells with what remains of her broken voice and reaches out for the sliver of white light waiting for her in the distance. No, she shouts, and she shouts, running towards hope and squeezing it in her arms. No, no no, she bellows, and she breaks out of the trance that captured her. Around her, the world falls silent out of respect.
“You can’t, Ei,” Yae replies, and she says it with utmost confidence. Her voice shivers once, and there is only one hint of fear, but deep down, Ei knows that fear must be tearing her apart. She feels awful—so awful that she wishes she were the one to have taken an arrow to her chest instead and if she could, she would still put her life on the line if it meant Yae would be fine. Ei clenches her fist around the arrow once more, trying to pull it out again. “Ei,” she beckons softly, holding Ei’s hands.
Ei has dissolved into a mess of tears and pelting words that make half sense. She’s been shaking her head in denial, mumbling about how she can pry the arrow out and carry her to a medic. Ten minutes later, Yae might be in the safety of their home, and all would be well—but Yae doesn’t want to oblige. She has never objected against Ei’s wishes so strongly before, but she truly believes this is the only way that a story like this was destined to write out—their story. “Darling, nothing is eternal in this world. I know you chase eternity, but for as long as you keep running, you’ll never find the answer in front of you.”
“Stop it, Miko,” she demands. It was always her fault, and no amount of weeping or making amends would ever help her stomach the bitter reality that awaits her. Maybe it was her fault for believing that she would be prepared for a day like this—that she would love Yae so much during her lifetime that when they’re forcibly torn apart, it wouldn’t be so difficult to let her go. Maybe it was her fault for suggesting that they take a walk out to the fields that they enjoy lounging at, because both of them have been overworking themselves and yearned for a break. Maybe it was her fault—everything. Everything was her fault and Ei simply breaks under the pressure of knowing this much.
“Nothing good in this world lasts forever, my darling,” Yae reminds her, wrapping her arms around Ei’s neck. Her eyes slowly flutter close, and her voice softens till it’s merely a whisper. “Someday, you will have to lose all that you love, all that you desire. And you’ll have to learn to recover. And, Ei, it doesn’t matter if you face those challenges with me or alone because… I’m always with you.”
Overhead, the sky darkens as storm clouds crowd over the once pristine blue. Lightning starts shooting through the sky and thunder barks like Cerberus unfed. Ei loses a piece of herself as their shared memories start flashing over her mind, and the weight of every passed moment lies on her shoulders. Around them, Celestia unleashes its most fearsome rains from above, drenching the field which used to once be dearly loved by the two maidens in love. “Tell me you love me,” Yae says then, and she says with a note of finality. There is no re-beginning beyond this, no re-telling of a story that’s desperately inching towards its end. Ei’s eyes widen. She chews on her lower lip, clenching onto Yae’s clothes as though doing so will pry out the last bit of life that’s hiding in her body.
She lowers her head, and a final tear collapses to the ground. Around them, the swaying cherry blossom trees unleash their ripened petals and send them billowing through the air like haze; perhaps as a final goodbye to the Guuji that has loved them well during their lifetime. I can’t say it, Ei struggles, then, for only a second, she catches the fleeting life in Yae’s eyes—the last bit of hope hanging in there to hear those final words that she’s destined to hear. And suddenly, Ei is so consumed with guilt that she realises she can prolong this pain no longer. “I love you,” she whispers.
Yae pushes herself up just barely with her elbows and presses a kiss against Ei’s cheek. Then, she succumbs to the fatal wound over her heart and commits to the act of leaving.