Chapter Text
The social worker's car smelled like stale coffee and artificial vanilla air freshener. Lumine pressed her forehead against the cool window, watching the neighborhoods blur past.
A neighborhood with a sign thay read 'Liyue' had neat rows of townhouses giving way to Inazuma's rigid, identical homes, then finally to Mondstadt's chaotic mix of architectural styles that looked like someone had shaken different house designs in a bag and scattered them randomly.
Her entire life fit in the black duffel bag at her feet. Fourteen years, one bag. She'd learned to pack light.
"Almost there," Ms. Wagner said, her voice bright with forced cheer. "Mr. Venti's place is just up ahead. I think you're really going to like it, Lumine."
Lumine didn't respond. Her fingers traced the edge of her phone in her jacket pocket, the phone they'd let her keep, but had wiped clean. No contacts. No photos. No Aether.
We're trying to find him, they'd said. It's better this way. A fresh start for both of you.
She'd stopped screaming after the first week. Stopped crying after the second. Now, three months later, she just felt hollow.
Three months. It had been three months since they'd been separated. The system had decided, in its infinite, bureaucratic wisdom, that the group home they'd been placed in was "over capacity" and "not suitable for long-term placement." So they'd split them up. Just like that. Lumine to Mondstadt, Aether to... somewhere. They wouldn't tell her where.
"Privacy concerns," they'd said. "You'll be able to write letters once he's settled."
Settled. As if either of them had ever been settled anywhere.
The car turned onto a street called Windrise Lane, and Lumine's stomach twisted. This was it. Another temporary stop. Another place that would smile and lie about being "forever" before finding a reason to send her back.
Ms. Wagner pulled up in front of a yellow house. Actually yellow, like someone had dipped it in sunlight. Except "house" didn't quite capture it. The building sprawled across the lot, clearly added onto over the years with mismatched extensions and a second story that looked like it had been an afterthought.
It had a garden that looked more like controlled chaos than intentional landscaping, with wildflowers spilling over the borders and a massive tree with a tire swing in the front yard. Wind chimes hung from the porch, creating a gentle discord in the breeze. There were bikes scattered on the lawn, a basketball hoop over the garage, and what looked like science equipment drying on a table by the side door.
It looked happy. Lived-in. Warm.
Lumine hated it immediately.
It was the kind of place that looked perfect from the outside. She'd learned a long time ago that outsides didn't mean anything.
"Here we are!" Ms. Wagner said, killing the engine. "Mr. Venti's been looking forward to meeting you."
Lumine doubted that. Foster parents were always "looking forward" to new placements until the reality set in. Until the kids were too much work, too damaged, too something.
"Now, I should mention," Ms. Wagner added, gathering her paperwork, "Mr. Venti has quite a few other foster children. It's a full house, but he's been doing this for years. Excellent references. The home is licensed for up to twelve children, and I believe he's at capacity with you."
Twelve. Twelve. Lumine's heart lurched. She'd be just another face in the crowd. Easy to overlook. Easy to forget.
She grabbed her duffel bag and followed Ms. Wagner up the cracked walkway. Before they even reached the porch, the door burst open.
The man who emerged didn't look like any foster parent Lumine had ever seen. He was young, too young, maybe mid-twenties, with a bright smile and braided black hair that faded to teal at the ends. He wore an oversized hoodie with some band logo she didn't recognize and ripped jeans, and his feet were bare despite the autumn chill.
This was her new foster parent?
"Lumine!" he said, like her name was something wonderful. "Welcome home! I'm Venti, no need for 'mister' or anything formal. Just Venti."
Home. There was that word again. The word felt foreign. Lumine's grip tightened on her bag.
He reached for her duffel bag. "You don't have to carry that yourself. Let me help?"
Lumine jerked it away on instinct. The last foster dad had torn through her things the first night, looking for "contraband." The one before that had locked her bags in the garage, said she had to earn them back.
Venti's hands immediately went up in a placating gesture, his expression softening. "Okay, no problem. You hang onto it. No pressure."
He didn't push. Didn't insist. Just smiled again, smaller this time, more genuine.
"Thank you for taking her on such short notice," Ms. Wagner said, shaking his hand. "I know a full house is a lot."
"There's always room," Venti interrupted gently. His eyes, a bright teal that matched his hair, found Lumine's. "Always."
Something crashed inside the house, followed by shouting.
"Bennett I told you not to-!"
"It wasn't me this time! I swear!"
"Then why is there a HOLE in the-"
"Razor did not mean to!"
A cat yowled indignantly.
"Diona, your cat is on the counter again!"
"She's not my cat, she just lives here!"
Venti laughed, completely unbothered. "Welcome to the chaos. Come on in. I promise it's friendlier than it sounds."
Lumine stood at the threshold for a moment, her heart pounding. Through the windows, she could see movement. Lots of movement. Faces appeared and disappeared. Kids of various ages, clearly curious about the new arrival.
Just temporary, Lumine told herself. Just until they find Aether.
She shouldered her duffel bag and followed them inside.
The inside was organized chaos in the best way. Shoes lined the entryway in haphazard rows. Sneakers, boots, mismatched slippers, rain boots with frog faces. Coats hung on hooks that were clearly insufficient for the number of residents, with overflow draped over a bench beneath.
The walls were covered in a collage of photos, drawings, report cards, and what looked like a family calendar color-coded within an inch of its life.
The living room sprawled to the left, two couches that had clearly seen better days, covered in blankets and throw pillows, a TV currently paused on some kids show, and children absolutely everywhere.
A boy with messy white hair and red eyes, Razor, presumably, was clutching a broken curtain rod looking guilty while a girl with lavender-grey hair tried to fix it with duct tape. A boy covered in soot and sporting a sheepish grin was trying to explain something to a girl with dark brown hair in red ribbons in her hair who looked thoroughly unimpressed.
A girl with an eyepatch adjusted her elaborate purple dress dramatically. A small girl with cat ears and a pink bob was hissing at all of them from her perch on the back of the couch, a calico cat in her arms.
A boy with blond hair and an eyepatch lounged in the corner with a book, looking resigned to the chaos. A girl with mint-green hair and glasses was frantically scribbling in a notebook, muttering to herself about "variables" and "chemical reactions."
A boy with short blonde hair and nervous energy practically vibrated as he tried to help the grey-haired girl with the curtain rod. A girl with dark purple hair in long twin tails sat cross-legged on the floor surrounded by what looked like astrology charts.
They all stopped and stared when Lumine entered.
"Everyone," Venti announced, "this is Lumine. She's going to be staying with us. Lumine, this is... well, everyone. You'll learn names eventually. I promise."
"Hi!" said the soot-covered boy, Bennett, probably. He waved enthusiastically, leaving a smudge on his face. "Sorry about the chaos! It's actually pretty normal around here. Welcome!"
"New girl!" The girl in the purple dress stepped forward dramatically, one hand pressed to her forehead. "I, Fischl, Prinzessin der Verurteilung, do hereby welcome thee to this humble abode! Fear not, for though the shadows may seem-."
"Fischl, you're doing it again," the red-ribbon girl said, not unkindly.
"I'm making her feel welcome, Amber!"
"You're being weird."
"She says welcome," translated the boy with the eyepatch from his corner, not looking up from his book.
"Oz, you're supposed to be on my side!"
The mint-haired girl looked up from her notebook, pushing her glasses up nervously. "Oh! Hello. I'm Sucrose. I was just- well, it's not important. Welcome." She ducked her head back down, clearly overwhelmed.
The cat-eared girl stopped hissing long enough to study Lumine with sharp teal-green eyes. "I'm Diona. That's Princess." She gestured to the calico. "She doesn't like new people, so don't try to pet her."
"Diona's room is the one that smells like cat," the nervous blond boy, Mika, offered helpfully, then immediately looked like he regretted speaking.
"It does not!"
"It absolutely does," the purple-haired girl said without looking up from her charts. "Mona Megistus, astrologer extraordinaire. Your stars say this is a significant day for you. Obviously." She waved vaguely at the room.
The grey-haired girl, Noelle, finally got the curtain rod stabilized and turned to Lumine with a warm smile. "Don't mind everyone. We're a lot, but you'll get used to it. I'm Noelle, and if you need anything, anything at all, just ask."
"Where's Eula?" Venti asked, looking around.
"Dance practice," Amber supplied. "She'll be back for dinner."
"And Rosaria?"
"When is Rosaria ever here?" Oz muttered.
Lumine said nothing. She'd learned not to trust immediate warmth. It never lasted. Eleven names. Twelve including her. How was she supposed to remember all these people? How was she supposed to fit into a space that was already so full?
Before she could spiral further, something small and fast launched itself from the kitchen doorway. A toddler who couldn't be more than three, with white hair in a tiny ponytail, wearing mismatched pajamas even though it was the middle of the afternoon, barreled straight toward Lumine with her arms outstretched. She held a stuffed tuna that was nearly as big as she was.
"Up! Up! New person! Up!"
Lumine froze. The toddler crashed into her legs, hugging them and looking up with huge, expectant eyes.
"Paimon, gentle!" Venti called, but he was laughing.
The toddler, Paimon, just squeezed tighter.
Lumine had no idea what to do. She wasn't good with kids. Wasn't good with people. But Paimon was looking at her like she was the most important person in the world, and something in Lumine's chest ached.
"Paimon is here to say hi!" the toddler announced, beaming up at her. "Venti said you're Lumine!"
"...Yes."
"Paimon is Paimon!" She held up the stuffed tuna proudly. "This is Tuna! Say hi to Tuna!"
Lumine had no idea how to respond to this.
"She likes you," Amber said, smiling. "She doesn't usually take to new people that fast."
"Paimon is an excellent judge of character," Fischl declared solemnly.
"She's three," Oz muttered.
"Paimon thinks Lumine looks sad," the little girl said, tilting her head with alarming perception. "Do you want to share Tuna? Tuna makes everything better!"
Slowly, carefully, Lumine reached down and patted the toddler's head. Paimon beamed like Lumine had just given her the moon.
Ms. Wagner cleared her throat, and Venti gestured toward the kitchen. "Right, paperwork. Kids, give Lumine some space to breathe, okay?"
The various children dispersed back to whatever they'd been doing.
Razor and Mika attempting to actually fix the curtain rod, Fischl and Oz bickering in the corner, Amber heading toward the kitchen, Sucrose returning to her notebook, Mona to her charts, Bennett trying to wipe the soot off his face and somehow making it worse. Diona disappeared upstairs with Princess. Noelle started tidying up the living room even though it was already relatively clean. Paimon refused to let go of Lumine's leg.
The kitchen was somehow even more chaotic than the living room.
A massive table that could seat at least fourteen, covered in homework and art projects and someone's half-finished model airplane. The counters were cluttered but clean, the fridge covered in magnets and drawings and a chore chart with everyone's names.
There was a whiteboard with the week's dinner menu, and Lumine noticed "LUMINE'S ARRIVAL - PIZZA!!!" written in enthusiastic handwriting for today.
Ms. Wagner went through the usual paperwork with Venti at the kitchen table. Intake forms, emergency contacts, medication schedules (none for Lumine), dietary restrictions (none), behavioral concerns. Lumine watched Venti's expression carefully when Ms. Wagner mentioned "recent trauma" and "may be withdrawn," but he just nodded with understanding, not frustration. Not impatience.
"The other children have been briefed on being welcoming but not overwhelming," Ms. Wagner said. "Though I see Paimon didn't get the memo."
Venti glanced at where Paimon was still attached to Lumine's leg, now humming to her stuffed tuna. "Paimon doesn't really do memos. She operates on pure toddler instinct."
"I'll check in next week," Ms. Wagner said finally, gathering her papers. She turned to Lumine, who was still standing awkwardly with Paimon attached to her. "You have my number if you need anything."
Lumine nodded. Ms. Wagner meant well. They always did. It didn't change anything.
When the social worker left, the door closed, and an awkward silence fell. Lumine stood in the kitchen doorway, duffel bag still clutched in both hands, ready to run. Or fight. Or both. Alone with her new foster family, eleven other kids plus Venti, a toddler still clinging to her legs, and a duffel bag full of everything she had left.
Her phone was still in her pocket. Still empty of contacts.
"You must be tired," Venti said softly, crouching down so he was at eye level with her even though she was standing and he didn't need to. "Would you like to see your room? You don't have to socialize right now if you don't want to."
That... was unexpected. Every other placement had forced immediate integration. Family dinners, introductions, ice breakers. He was asking her. Giving her a choice.
"Okay," Lumine said quietly.
"Paimon, sweetheart, let Lumine go see her room, okay? You can play with her later."
"Okay!" Paimon released Lumine's leg reluctantly and toddled over to grab Amber's hand instead. "Amber, play with Paimon!"
"Sure thing, starshine," Amber said, scooping the toddler up.
Venti led Lumine upstairs. The second floor was a maze of hallways, the house having clearly been expanded multiple times. Doors lined both sides, some open, some closed. As they walked, Lumine caught glimpses:
A room with wolf plushies covering every surface and what looked like a sleeping bag on the floor next to the bed. One was painted black with glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling and constellation maps on the walls. Another with targets pinned to a corkboard and what looked like dance trophies on a shelf.
As they walked, Lumine felt that the house would never end, that there had to be at least a million bedrooms crammed in this house.
There was one absolutely covered in purple fabric and crow decorations. Fischl's, no question. A room that was almost aggressively neat except for a stack of well-loved books. One with beakers and test tubes carefully organized on a desk
They continued on down the hall, every room packed and chaotic in its own way, until they finally reached the end.
At the end of the main hall was a room with the door open. Smaller than the others, but it had a window seat overlooking the backyard. A bed with a handmade quilt in shades of blue and gold. A desk. A bookshelf. A small dresser. The walls were painted a soft cream color.
"I know it's not much," Venti said, "but it's yours." He smiled. "You can decorate however you want. Paint the walls, hang posters, whatever makes it feel like your space."
Her own room. After sharing with Aether for years, after group homes with six girls to a room, after shelters with bunk beds lined up like dominoes- her own room.
Lumine set her duffel bag down carefully on the bed. "It's fine."
More than fine. For someone who'd had nothing three months ago, having a bed and a room and a door was something.
"Bathroom's down the hall. We have three, so there's usually not too much of a wait. Your name's on the chore chart rotation, but I'll give you this week to settle in before you're on duty." Venti leaned against the doorframe casually. "Dinner's at six- Oh, actually, speaking of."
He pulled out his phone. "I was thinking pizza tonight. What kind do you like? We usually have to order like five pizzas to feed everyone, so we do a variety. But everyone gets to request something they want."
He was asking her opinion. About pizza.
Every other placement had just... told her what she was eating. Served whatever and expected gratitude.
"I... anything's fine," she managed.
"No, no, that's not how we do it here," Venti said, and his voice was gentle but firm. "Everyone gets a say. It's one of our house rules. Everyone's voice matters. So what do you like?"
Through the window, she could see some of the kids spilling into the backyard. Bennett climbing the tree, Razor running in circles, Fischl gesticulating wildly while Oz followed behind her with a long-suffering expression. Amber was pushing Paimon on the tire swing. Their laughter drifted up, warm and genuine.
"Pepperoni," Lumine said quietly. "I like pepperoni."
Venti's smile could have lit up the whole house. "Pepperoni it is! I'll make sure we get at least one. Let's see... Razor likes meat lovers, Bennett usually wants Hawaiian, Fischl insists on something she calls 'Purple Lightning Special' which is just barbecue chicken, Amber likes supreme, Noelle's fine with anything, Mona wants veggie, Diona refuses to eat anything that's been near fish so definitely not anchovies, Mika likes cheese, Sucrose is vegetarian, Oz pretends he doesn't care but always steals Fischl's slices, Eula will eat anything but complains about it..."
Venti continued to list them off, mumbling about everyones preferences. He was ticking them off on his fingers. "And Paimon just eats the crusts because she's three and weird."
He said it with such affection. Like he knew all of them. Like they mattered.
"If you're not ready to join us for dinner, I can bring you a plate up here," Venti added. "No pressure. Some of the kids prefer to eat in their rooms when they first arrive. That's okay too."
He paused at the door, his expression softening even further.
"Lumine? I know this is scary. I know you've probably heard a lot of promises that didn't mean anything, so I'm not going to make you promises. I'm just going to show up. For all eleven- well, twelve now- you. That's all I ask you to let me do."
He closed the door gently behind him.
Lumine stood alone in the small room, her entire life still packed in the duffel bag on the bed. Through the window, she could see more kids now.
A girl with pale blue hair in elaborate clothing had joined them, moving with the grace of a dancer. That must be Eula, back from practice. She was laughing at something Bennett said, though her expression tried to look disdainful.
Lumine sank onto the bed and pulled out the one thing she'd kept safe through every placement: a photo. Her and Aether, age seven, at some park neither of them could remember the name of. His arm around her shoulders. Both of them grinning.
I'll find you, she thought fiercely. I don't care how long it takes.
A knock at the door made her shove the photo under her pillow.
"Lumi?" A small voice.
She opened the door to find Paimon, somehow having escaped Amber's supervision. The toddler held up her stuffed tuna hopefully.
"Come on! Venti's making snacks! He makes the BEST snacks! Even better than Tuna, and Tuna is the best! He's making his special cookies and Paimon gets to help!"
Before Lumine could answer, Paimon had grabbed her hand with her tiny one and was pulling her toward the stairs with surprising strength for someone so small.
"Everyone's gonna be there! Even the people who don't live here! Venti said Jean might come over, and sometimes Lisa stops by, and Rosaria might actually show up for once!"
And somehow, Lumine found herself being dragged downstairs by a three-year-old, through the maze of hallways, past rooms full of lives she didn't understand yet, into the chaos of the yellow house on Windrise Lane.
Still waiting for the other shoe to drop. Still waiting to be sent away and to find her brother.
But for now, just for now, she let the tiny hand hold hers, and followed Paimon toward the sound of laughter and the smell of cookies, into whatever came next.
Not hope. Not yet. But maybe, maybe, the faintest possibility of it.
In a full house of eleven other kids, a patient foster parent and a toddler who thought her stuffed tuna fixed everything, maybe that was enough for today.