The breeze flew by swiftly, startling a petal that grew on the short Japanese maple tree which caused it to fall onto the pond beneath it. A tiny calming ripple occurred precisely when the petal touched the surface. The red leaf floated around and was soon picked up by Kazuha. The white-haired male simply brushed it off as soon as he made contact with the petal.
“So, you gonna keep on running ‘til the Inazuman soldiers stop looking for you? You’re an exile of your own motherland.” Although you needed to know, your words might’ve upset him. Though, you begged the question—truly he didn’t plan to keep on hiding?
“Ever since I defended the Traveller from the Raiden Shogun, I don’t think I’ll ever be accepted near the borders of Inazuma again,” he hummed, acting as if none of it bothered him. His attention was rather focused on the paper he was writing on.
You sighed, your chest desperately trying to release the tension of all the stress it managed to muster, but to your dismay, you were still nervous over the whole situation. It seemed like he was not ever going to learn his lesson.
“Surely we can ask the archon for her forgiveness?” You sat beside the carefree swordsman, in hopes of lightening his mood with a few suggestions. He should be scared, and troubled, yet he still has that annoyingly elegant nonchalant attitude.
“Say, what’re you doing?” Your concentration dissolved into the air and was replaced by curiosity when you saw him writing on his fancy piece of parchment.
You sought answers, not only the ones about his whole escapade revolving around the incident with the Traveller and the Inazuman archon but also what he was currently doing.
“Writing,” he spoke in his tranquil voice; a beautiful sound that you’d listen to until the end of the world. He was not a man of many words for the words he’d ever spoken were written down. That was the only way he could express himself. Though, you never had anything against it. Instead, you quite admired it.
You were in awe of how collected and calmly he presented himself. Kazuha was neat, swift, and the most sincere person you’d ever met. It was why you wanted him as your companion while wandering in the vast lands of Teyvat. Someone who was exactly to your liking; logical, surprisingly good at combat, and a sweetheart who helps whoever requires it.
You rearranged your position in order to sit more comfortably on the giant rock surrounded by a bunch of pebbles, “Can I see what you’ve written?” you asked before trying to get a sneak peek. However, you failed meticulously while the samurai chuckled lightly at your declined attempt. He had dodged your gaze, and it upset you.
“I’m not done yet,” he stated after the span of some seconds. Kazuha was truly the astonishing type. You would yearn after his usual poetic words or the small letters he’d write with the utmost care and thought. The white-haired guy was a refined young man and a hard-working swordsman—the most elite of the elite. People were often shocked to find out that he was to never set foot again in his own country, Inazuma.
The reason for that was that he was kind enough to defend a traveller, searching for their sibling against Inazuma’s empress: Raiden Shogun. ‘Truly remarkable,’ was the only thing that came to mind when you’d remember that hazy memory.
After being deep in thought for around two minutes, Kazuha finally spoke up again. “I’m finished, Jana.” Curious, you looked over to see what he had been working on.
The title; My Truthful Promises—is written in cursive with ink, extra bold. Your eyes darted and quickly scanned over the whole piece before you flashed a grin which he genuinely smiled at. The words were so gracefully written. A poem meant only for you. A poem, which you will forever remember as ‘A Late Spring’s Promise’.
It read:
My Truthful Promises
In steadfast silence, my word remains true,
My truthful promises, a pledge to you.
Through storms and calm, come what may,
I'll stand by you, come what may.
Your heart instantly fluttered, as if it were an instinct at this point. Even if you were already used to his poetry about you, Kazuha’s beautifully depicted sentences had deep meanings that would sometimes nearly make you cry.
Kazuha looked up at you as if waiting for some kind of approval. His lovely eyes focused on both of yours. It felt as if it was only you two in the world since time apparently stopped in your head. “What do you think?” he asked. You couldn’t bring yourself to answer.
An honest beam formed on your face. As idiotic as you looked right now, you couldn’t help appreciating him. For everything he does. For every action. You might as well appreciate him for being born at this point.
His gentle laughter filled the air, canceling any tension that may have existed.
Then, at that exact moment, that same very thought reappeared in your head.
Him? An outcast in his native land? I didn’t believe it either when I heard it.