Genshin Oneshots!!

These Artificial Hands of Mine, Bloodstained and Burdened

There's a drastic difference between the puppet who had once been called the Kabukimono and the puppet who called himself Kunikuzushi.

One was kind, unknowing to the world around him and the cruelty of mortality, and unaware of the fact that a human would feel pain when touching a metal surface that was well into hundreds of degrees in temperature.

The other– Kunikuzushi– was evil, sadistic, and sloppy in the way he carelessly swung a sword through the fleshy and bloody necks of the innocent people who dared to mess with him. He was the embodiment of what seeing the cruelty of the world for the first time could do to a person.

Though, he wasn't always so cruel.

When he had been known as The Kabukimono, he was kind, albeit quiet and clueless about many things. His hands were used for much gentler things- picking fruits, helping the people of Tatarasuna with forging weapons, learning to cook, all of the smaller things.He would never have dared to use his hands for harm or evil.

Yet, one betrayal after the next, he began changing. He became more closed off, even vowing to never let himself come close to bonding with anyone who bore the worthless bitterness of mortality again.

First was his mother, tossing him away because he was too sentient and emotionally burdened to handle truly being a vessel for her Gnosis. She even went as far as to seal away his true power, unreachable by his own hands.

Second was his close friend, Niwa, leaving him behind as chaos ensued in Tatarasuna. He dared not to think of the off-putting emotions boiling deep inside of him, like an oncoming storm that was still so far away. It was something he was unable to touch, at least for a good while.

The third was a young child, a boy whose parents had fallen victim to the same exact illness that he would later after them. When the boy had told The Kabukimono about what had come of his late parents, the puppet seemed to not understand. All he knew was that it sounded exactly like what being betrayed was like. So, his horror when the boy had done the exact same thing to him by dying was unimaginable. He didn't necessarily understand what had happened, or why the child didn't respond to him. Mortality didn't make sense in his mind until a while later. Until he had denounced the title of "The Kabukimono" because the things he was planning were far too evil for him to even consider being connected to any form of humanity.

Before enacting these bloodying plans of his, an offering had been made to him. An organization that could bring to him all that he has ever dreamed of- Godhood, power, and the potential to even be able to house his mother's Gnosis properly. He said he'd think about it, but showed genuine interest, even keeping in touch with the strange masked man who had offered his dreams to him on a silver platter.

He walks along the shoreside, a blank and entirely unreadable expression on his face. He walks, swords in hand and dragging along the sand. He's silent. He speaks no words, only stepping forward. He walks slowly, bit by bit, to his destination. He'd fooled a group of people associated with the Raiden Gokaden into meeting him on this very beach. He'd taken advice from the very same outside source that had invited him to a life of his dreams.

As he approaches, he readies his sword between his hands. He doesn't think twice as he begins his ambush.

Cold metal meets warm flesh as the first blood is spilled, even splattering onto his hands as the man's body falls onto the sand. The blood spilling out and being absorbed by the sand is mesmerizing to watch, but within a few seconds he's already back at it. Using his sword to spill more and more blood onto the sand as the waves crashed ever so normally. The wind and the salty smell of the beach and ocean stay the same, only changing to accompany the scent of blood.

He drives his sword through torsos, throats, heads– any part of the worthless human bodies that would kill them.

There is something so thrilling about it all that he can't– won't– stop until each of them were laid out on the sand.

Blood is splattered across his hands and face and his once pure white clothing as he makes yet another body collapse onto the beach in a bloodied heap. A sickeningly awful smile splits his face, eyes crazed as he keeps going. Slaughtering these people who did no wrong. He can't help but laugh.

As disgusting as it is, he's finding enjoyment in it all. Bloodying himself. Basking in the screams as he practically shudders with some sick sort of glee.

His clothes become more and more bloodstained as he washes away his purity in a bath of blood that is supplied by his ever so active hands. He's never felt such thrill, never been so disturbingly gleeful.

Eventually, with a resounding laugh, the final body falls and he realizes that this was just a portion of the Raiden Gokaden– that he would get to do this again and again until he completely eliminated all of them– until he finally got his twisted revenge.

Yet, when he finally reaches the ending of it all, now adorning darker clothes and a hat that he'd dug up from the ashes of the home he had once shared with the young boy that he'd known a while ago, he'd bored. He's finding all of this dull and pedestrian when he had found it all so thrilling when he had first begun.

There's no rush in his brain when he watches bodies collapse and blood get absorbed into the sand. There's no ringing laughter as he swings his sword. It's managed to become routine to him and he hates that.

So, he stops. He goes as far as to drop his sword on the beach and walk away, words on his lips that the bodies and injured humans wouldn't hear.

"It was all just a little experiment into human nature."

Words that mimic the man who had made the offer to him. Words that mirror his way of speaking as far as the small inflections and for a brief moment, Kunikuzushi wonders if it's possible for living people to possess puppets because he's never mimicked anyone's speech patterns before.

In the present day, he has not quite renounced his name of Kunikuzushi, but rather favors two other names instead. Scaramouche- for the people he's not quite close to, but doesn't know through his occupation and Balladeer- for the people who know him exclusively through his questionable occupation and the people in that category that he is not close to.

Very few people have the permission to call him Kunikuzushi and/or Kuni. People who he's close to above anyone else he interacts with, which really is only two people in the present day.

The first person he allowed to call him that was Dottore, who had managed to become somewhat of a father figure to him and was the one that initially raised his interest in joining the Fatui. Though, it seems to Scaramouche that he doesn't necessarily prefer to call him Kunikuzushi, which he doesn't necessarily mind.

The second person is someone who, as much as he hates to admit it, has become the first mortal he's bonded with in centuries. They both call each other their true names behind closed doors. Small whispers of "Ajax" mingling together with the ginger's soft whispers of "Kuni" as they lay together, holding each other close and yet neither of them wish to show much vulnerability.

He's become much more closed off than he was even when he took down a majority of the Raiden Gokaden, only allowing a select few people see his true emotions. He's become snappy, finding pleasure in slapping his subordinates around and the expressions on their faces as he did so.

Deep down, he yearns for a love that he won't allow himself to indulge in just yet, but the people he's close to seem to be patient enough, so he supposes he can wait.