Chapter Text
The day they first met, the sky above Tatarasuna was ablaze with color.
Indigo lightning split the darkening sunset, and sparkling fluid-form creatures leapt within the rumbling clouds. The sheer explosion of elemental energy was so vivid that onlookers all across Inazuma paused and raised their heads.
Some fell to their knees in prayer, believing it to be a sign of anger from the gods. Others scoffed and questioned what the Naganohara girl was doing with her fireworks. Others yet wondered if it was a huge battle against the rebel forces. They lifted a hand to their hearts and sighed, wishing for the war to end, for their families to return home.
In truth, beneath the brilliant flashes of light, only two people remain along the barren cliffs of Tatarasuna… if they could be considered people at all. One is a towering masked figure with a flowing galactical cape, tearing through the grass with inhuman speed. The other hovers calmly at the cliff peak, a lone, petite silhouette.
The spectacle is merely a by-product of their heated clash.
The masked figure rushes violently forward, but the delicate youth raises only a single hand. The air around them crackles and condenses with sheer power, and as the masked man’s dual blades hurtle towards the boy, the space between them ignites and blasts outward.
The man is thrown back, but he’s leaping forward again in a split second. Chipped by the blow, portion of his mask crumbles away, revealing the wicked grin on his lips. There aren’t many in Inazuma who know his name, but it ripples in hushed murmurs throughout the rest of the world. Enlisted by his own father at the age of fourteen, the youngest soldier to ever become a Fatui Harbinger – Childe, the Eleventh.
His chance of victory is only a sliver, Childe knows that. He knew it as soon as he came across the youth by chance during his evening walk – this was no mortal. The boy’s violet eyes simmer with a deep, dark rage that betrays the fragility of his form. But strong opponents are Childe’s favorite opponents – and impossible victories are the only victories worth pursuing. The first word of greeting they exchanged had been the piercing sizzle of metal against lightning.
Bloated with adrenaline, elated with bloodlust, Childe hones in on the boy’s face as he surges forward. The electrified air pounds on his eardrums like thunder and he barely hears his own roar as it tears triumphantly past his bared fangs.
He closes in, eyes widening in excitement. His blade draws near, and he imagines shattering the condescending disdain on that lovely face. Gathering all his power into a final blow, Childe swings his blade forward – and feints.
The tip of his blade grazes the boy’s hair, and the fallen strands burn up instantly. The boy’s immense counter-attack shoots through empty air, and all in the same split second, Childe turns and spins his blade towards the boy’s back.
He sees the boy begin to turn, and he sees the boy’s eyes begin to widen – but Childe’s blow contains all the momentum of his previous attack, and there’s no time to escape. He’s been building up to this, lacing in obvious patterns, taking hits to lower his opponent’s guard. The boy is powerful, but not interested in fighting an ant like him.
There’s a sharp explosion and the entire island lights up in a burst of electro. Elemental power sweeps through Childe and he staggers, grimacing against it.
The light fades, and Childe sees the boy standing in the burnt grass of their battleground. He’s no longer floating, and his dark kimono has been torn across the front. Head lowered, the boy lifts a hand to his shoulder and looks at his bloodied fingers. Something glints within his shadowed face, something wild and vicious.
Childe extends his hand and catches his blade. His heart is truly pounding now.
Yes… show me your true self.
The boy lifts his head and looks at Childe. But as the apricot glow of the sunset strikes his eyes, his demonic expression simmers back to nonchalant composure.
It’s not enough. Still not enough…
Gripping his weapon tightly, Childe bares his fangs in a terse grin. “Still holding back? Am I not strong enough for you to unleash the power of your gnosis?”
At that, the boy pauses. His eyes narrow slightly, and pure energy begins to sizzle around his fingertips.
“Gnosis…? What gnosis?”
The boy’s voice is lovely, too. It echoes in Childe’s head, threatening to disarm the perfect storm he’s brewed for himself. A little distractedly, he scoffs.
“Don’t play dumb, where would the gnosis be if not with the Electro Archon?”
The boy’s eyes narrow further. He’s glaring now, and his fingers have clenched around the growing hilt of an elemental katana. He walks forward, each step rippling the grass around his dainty feet.
Childe tenses and grins in dark delight. He’s a little confused, but as long as he gets a real fight–
“I’m not the Electro Archon. Nor do I have the gnosis.”
Childe blinks. “Eh–”
The boy steps up to him, flooding his senses with exquisite beauty. One moment, Childe is staring into the boy’s starlit eyes, breathing in his fragrance – and the next moment he’s on the ground, fingers clenched in the dirt, groaning.
Pain flows continuously through his abdomen, and each breath wreaks his spine with only more agony. Holding his stomach, Childe pushes himself to his knees and coughs. He looks up to see the boy silently approaching, eyes glittering with icy disdain, katana held with graceful poise in his hand. The sizzling blade makes Childe’s abdomen churn, but he can’t bring himself to move.
“But I don’t blame you for being mistaken.” The boy’s voice is calm, but his eyes gleam fiercely, hinting at the unhinged rage fueling his power. He steps close to Childe and looks down at the man in utter contempt.
“I am the Shogun’s kagemusha.”
“… The Electro Archon is my creator.”