Ren, his heart still warm from his strange and wonderful picnic in eternity, made his way back up to the Grand Narukami Shrine. He found Yae Miko in her personal study, a serene room filled with ancient scrolls and the faint, sweet scent of sakura blossoms.
He recounted his latest visit to the Plane of Euthymia with the casual, cheerful air of a boy describing a fun afternoon at a friend's house. He spoke of the magically appearing dango, of the light novels he had brought, of the pleasant, quiet companionship.
Miko listened, her chin resting on her hand, a complex, unreadable expression in her violet eyes. She looked at this small, impossible child, who could apparently just… decide to have a picnic with the reclusive, grief-stricken god who had been her best friend, a god she herself had not seen in five hundred years. The sheer, audacious simplicity of it was both maddening and utterly, completely, charming.
A thought, a cunning, foxy, and deeply tempting idea, sparked in her mind.
I could use him, she thought, her strategic mind working at lightning speed. He is the key. He can enter her realm at will. All I would have to do is give him something, a small, enchanted omamori charm, perhaps, imbued with a sliver of my own energy. A beacon. The next time he goes, I could follow the signal, slip through the rift he creates… and I would be there. Face to face with Ei again.
The plan was perfect. It was simple. It was almost foolproof. She could finally break through the walls of that lonely, self-imposed prison and speak to her friend again.
Her gaze fell upon Ren, who was now sitting cross-legged on a floor cushion. He had pulled out a small, beautifully bound, and currently empty, photo album. With a look of intense, serious concentration, he began to carefully place the few photographs he had taken into its pages. He handled them with a gentle, reverent care, each picture a precious, captured memory.
Miko watched him, and the cold, cunning strategist in her heart faltered. She saw not a key, not a tool to be used, but a child. A kind, innocent, and strangely wise child who was simply trying to make a lonely friend happy. To use his trust, his unique, miraculous connection, for her own ends… it felt… wrong. It felt cheap.
No, she decided, a soft, almost imperceptible sigh escaping her lips. He is not a tool. He is a friend. A new, slightly less direct, but far more honorable plan began to form in her mind. I will find another way. There is, after all, that kind, helpful, and notoriously errands running… I mean, that brave, heroic Traveler. Yes. She will be a much more… appropriate catalyst for the coming storm.
The sound of soft, tired footsteps interrupted her thoughts. It was Ganyu, who had just returned from another long, frustrating day in Ritou. She looked weary, the usual serene light in her eyes dimmed by a profound, bureaucratic exhaustion. She came and sat beside Ren, her presence an immediate, comforting warmth.
"Ren," she said, her voice a soft, apologetic murmur. "I am so sorry. I feel as though I have barely seen you these past few days. The Liyue delegation is having… problems. The Kanjou Commission, even with the Shogun's new decree, is still being so uncooperative. They create delays, they lose paperwork… it is incredibly troubling."
Ren looked up from his photo album and gave his sister a warm, reassuring smile. "It's okay, big sister. I know you're busy. And I've been having a lot of fun."
To prove it, he turned the album towards her, showing her the first few pages he had filled. "See? I'm compiling a book of all my memories here."
The first page held the most impossible picture of all: his selfie, with the serene, divine form of Raiden Ei in the background.
The next page was a collection of his Inazuman adventures. There was a beautiful, candid shot of the Hanamizaka district, its streets vibrant with life. There was a grand, panoramic view of the Tenshukaku, looking majestic and imposing.
Then came the pictures of his friends. There was a selfie he had taken at the Kamisato Estate. He was smiling brightly at the Kamera, and beside him, a visibly blushing Ayaka was trying, and failing, to maintain her noble composure, her hands clenched at her sides to resist the overwhelming urge to hug him.
Next was a picture from the Naganohara Fireworks shop. Yoimiya had enveloped him in a tight, joyous, one-armed hug, her other hand making a peace sign, her face a mask of pure, explosive happiness.
The final picture was a candid shot he must have taken at the Grand Narukami Shrine. It showed Yae Miko, her eyes closed, a serene, genuinely peaceful expression on her face as she offered a prayer at a small, secluded altar. It was a rare, unguarded moment of sincere piety from the usually mischievous and calculating Guuji.
"I didn't get to take any pictures back in Mondstadt," Ren said, a wistful look in his eyes. "Everything happened so fast. I was thinking… I'd like to go back again someday soon. To get some photos of all my friends there, too."
Ganyu looked at the small collection of captured moments, at the faces of the powerful, legendary, and often intimidating women of Inazuma, all of them completely, utterly, and happily charmed by her little brother. A deep, profound warmth spread through her chest, chasing away the exhaustion of her long, frustrating day. Her brother was not just safe; he was happy. He was thriving. He was collecting memories, building a new life, and in his own quiet, gentle way, he was changing the world, one friendship, and one photograph, at a time.