"Forget it. It isn't exactly a secret among adepti. If you saw it, you saw it."
Pavana glanced around to ensure no mortals were paying attention. Then, very quietly, she extended both sleeves toward Snow Kui.
From within the fabric emerged two hands — skin tinted with deep water-green, fingers ending in sharp, hooked claws. Even showing only part of them, it was obvious her hands were powerful, built for tearing.
Snow Kui took one look.
Just that — one uninterested glance.
In his eyes, having some inhuman trait was normal for adepti. Especially those like them — naturally humanoid without using shape-shifting techniques — their forms were determined by their essence. If anything, Snow Kui's full human appearance was the strange exception.
Seeing Snow Kui's expression — the silent "that's it?" — Pavana withdrew her hands back into her sleeves and explained,
"We don't mind such traits. But humans… they fear them."
Her tone was flat, as if recounting someone else's experience, not her own.
Snow Kui, however, always relied on intuition rather than logic. He sensed her mood dip and immediately concluded—
She must care about her claws.
"I don't like staying near crowds anyway," Pavana continued, "so keeping this distance works in my favor."
Snow Kui tilted his head, staring at her intensely.
She sensed something from his gaze — that sharp yaksha intuition — and added hastily,
"Ignore it. I'm not hiding because I'm ashamed."
Snow Kui pointed ahead suddenly.
"Are humans really scared of that?"
Pavana followed his gaze.
There, in the middle of the street, was Fushe — purple-haired, bare-chested, with four muscular arms on full display — casually chatting with locals while haggling over sheets of drawing paper. He even waved at familiar faces passing by.
Everyone treated him like the most normal thing in the world.
"…Fushe is… different," Pavana muttered stiffly.
"He gets along with mortals easily. And he might have four arms, but claws are… more dangerous."
She looked away quickly, refusing to acknowledge the envy.
Snow Kui leaned forward until his face entered her line of sight — mischievous smile stretching wide.
"I asked if humans are scared of you.
I didn't ask why Fushe is so popular, did I?"
Pavana froze.
Her reaction was instant — like someone whose secret crush had just been exposed.
Snow Kui's grin widened.
"So you want to get along with humans, don't you?"
Little Snow Kui!
Flustered and angry, Pavana instinctively lifted her hands — claws exposed — intending to smack the little brat who stripped away her composure.
Snow Kui slipped aside and caught her falling hand neatly.
Her claws met his palm.
They felt rough, harder than stone — nothing like the warm softness of Guizhong's hands.
But physical sensation meant little to a yaksha.
He only smiled wider.
"Heh."
He was now actually tugging her by the hand.
"Eh?"
Startled, Pavana lost her strength immediately, allowing herself to be dragged through the street. Her heart pounded — for the first time in her life not from battle, but from embarrassment.
Snow Kui wove through the crowd like a little demon. Pavana followed stiffly, terrified someone might notice her claws. She kept her eyes down, sleeves half-covering her face.
She was used to slaying demons, not being seen.
"Two of those lotus-shaped ones!"
"Got it! Little brother doesn't even know what this snack is called?"
"No clue! Just smelled something sweet!"
The shopkeeper laughed.
"Well then, I'll give you two kids a discount. Pay for one, take two. Remember this—these are lotus pastries! A delicacy that will be famous for generations!"
"Thanks, uncle! You're a good person!"
Snow Kui chatted like he had known the stall owner for years.
Pavana whispered, mortified,
"Why are you still holding my hand?!"
So obvious. How could she even ask?
"Because you'll hide it again if I don't."
The girl squeaked — startled like a deer.
The vendor dropped dough into hot oil. Snow Kui watched as the pale dough blossomed layer by layer, turning golden, releasing waves of warm fragrance.
Pavana received hers in silence, wrapped in oil-paper.
The shopkeeper glanced at her sleeves — at the faint glimpse of claw and her water-like horns — and grinned without fear.
"Are the two of you adepti?"
"We're yaksha," Snow Kui answered through a mouthful of pastry.
"Oh! Then you're adepti."
The shopkeeper nodded casually.
"No wonder. Immortals visiting my stall — good omen!"
No shock. No fear.
Just acceptance.
In this territory — mortals and immortals lived together.
Pavana stared blankly. She had never imagined humans could be this… unafraid.
Snow Kui blew on his pastry, releasing a puff of warm mist. Pavana unconsciously copied him.
Two figures — one in icy white, one in watery blue — blew steam together under the lantern light.
For the first time—
Pavana felt herself blending into human warmth.
She glanced at their intertwined hands.
"…Why are you still holding on? I'm not scared anymore."
"You don't want to hurt people." Snow Kui shrugged.
"Yaksha don't fear wounds. If you hold onto me, no one gets hurt."
Her eyelid twitched.
Did he truly not understand the problem?
Or was he pretending not to?
A long sigh escaped her.
"There will be times when you aren't here."
Snow Kui snorted.
"So? Your claws only might hurt someone. It's not like just touching them kills them."
Then, with bright, self-satisfied confidence—
"I'm the Medicine Immortal, remember? As long as they still have one breath left, I can save them."
Snow Kui released her hand and pointed straight at her.
"Let's make a pact. You treat humans kindly, and if you ever injure someone, I'll heal them.
In exchange, you tell people how amazing I am — spread my name. Let all of Teyvat know the name of the Medicine Immortal."
Pavana stared at him.
Then—
She burst into laughter.
Unrestrained. Bright. Pure.
Before Snow Kui could complain, she wiped the tears from her eyes and lifted her little finger.
"Fine, little Medicine Immortal."
Snow Kui grimaced — pinky promises were for children.
He hooked his finger begrudgingly.
"It's great Medicine Immortal."
Her smile was like rippling water under moonlight.
"Then, a pact is made—"
"Don't say 'eating rocks as punishment.' I'm sick of that line. That old guy made it up, didn't he? Rocks don't bother him at all."
Snow Kui muttered thoughtfully,
"For me… being forced to eat hilichurl cooking would be worse than eating rocks."
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