The days following the confrontation at the statue settled into a new, strange, and almost suffocatingly peaceful routine for Ren. He was, in essence, under a very gentle, very loving, and very well-catered house arrest at the Grand Narukami Shrine.
Ganyu was a constant, unwavering presence at his side. The trauma of almost losing him had seemingly severed her connection to her duties in Ritou. She no longer spoke of the uncooperative Kanjou Commission or the Liyue trade delegation. Her entire world, her entire purpose, had shrunk to the immediate, three-foot radius around her little brother. She would sit with him while he read, she would walk with him through the shrine's serene gardens, her hand always on his shoulder, a silent, constant anchor.
Ayaka, the noble Shirasagi Himegimi, became their most frequent visitor. The terrifying events had seemingly broken down the last of her formal reserve, and a warm, easy friendship blossomed between her and Ganyu, a friendship founded on their powerful, shared, and deeply maternal love for the small boy they both fussed over.
They would bring him snacks, they would argue good-naturedly over which blanket was the softest for him to use, and they would both, in their own ways, try to shield him from the increasingly grim realities of the world outside their peaceful, mountaintop sanctuary.
Yae Miko, for her part, observed this cocoon of care with a deep, foxy amusement. While the two "sisters" fussed, she took it upon herself to be Ren's official purveyor of fine dining.
"You must eat well, little one," she would say, a teasing glint in her violet eyes as a shrine maiden brought a tray laden with exquisite, specially-prepared Inazuman delicacies. "You must build up your strength. How else will you be able to withstand the combined, lung-collapsing force of Ganyu and Ayaka's hugs in the future? It is a matter of survival."
But amidst this gentle, loving, and well-fed confinement, the steady, grim drumbeat of the world outside continued. The primary source of their information came in the form of a small, impossibly stealthy, and perpetually sleepy ninja named Sayu.
Sayu, a member of the Shuumatsuban, the Yashiro Commission's secret intelligence network, would appear at the shrine at odd hours, seemingly materializing out of a nearby bush or from under a floorboard. She would deliver her reports to Ayaka and Miko in a low, tired mumble, her small body swaying with a desperate need for a nap.
Her reports painted a clear, and increasingly worrying, picture of the escalating conflict.
"The Traveler… yawn… has officially joined the resistance on Watatsumi Island," Sayu would report, her words punctuated by a massive, jaw-cracking yawn. "They've made her the Captain of a special new unit… they're calling it… Swordfish II."
The news was a confirmation of Lumine's path. She was no longer just an ally to the resistance; she was one of its leaders, a central figure in the rebellion.
But it was Sayu's other reports that were more chilling.
"Fatui presence on Watatsumi Island… is confirmed," she would mumble, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment. "They're not fighting. They're… providing support. Food rations, weapons, medical supplies. The resistance is… accepting their help."
The information was a cold knot in Ren's stomach. The resistance, in their desperation, was making a deal with the devil. And while Sayu's reports made no mention of Delusions, Ren knew, with a dreadful, sinking certainty, that they were the other, unspoken part of the Fatui's "support." They were arming the desperate, Vision-less soldiers of the resistance with their life-draining, soul-consuming technology.
He thought of his own creations, the safe, stable, man-made Visions that were now quietly, peacefully, being distributed to the citizens of Liyue Harbor. That technology, that hope, had not yet reached these shores. And in its absence, the people of Inazuma, in their desperate fight for freedom, were being forced to embrace a dark, poisonous, and ultimately self-destructive power. The thought filled him with a quiet, burning sense of frustrated urgency. He was so close, yet so far from being able to truly help.