Yokohama is a bad place right now.
The aftermath of the explosion on Leibo Street hangs thick in the air. Survivors tremble in shadowed corners, too scared to breathe. Even after Zhongli carries Chuuya Nakahara away from the blast zone, the dread follows—an invisible weight clinging to them like bone-deep rot.
Zhongli, draped in a golden brocade robe that screams elegance and authority, stands out like a beacon in this city of soot and ruin. His refined appearance is an open invitation: I'm rich. Come rob me.
But the truth?
He's flat broke. No yen. No Mora. Morax—the former Geo Archon of Liyue—forgot to bring his wallet across worlds. In this unfamiliar dimension, he doesn't even have Tartaglia to rely on. Just a child in his arms and an empty pocket.
Someone is following them. Zhongli notices, of course—but does not act.
They slip into a side alley. Those watching exchange glances, then follow.
Zhongli gently pats Chuuya, who stiffens in his arms, alert and coiled with tension. Then Zhongli turns, facing the men now surrounding them with the practiced calm of someone who has seen worse.
"If you're prepared to kill for money, you must be ready to face what your evil karma will return to you."
The robbers blink, confused. One steps forward, pressing a gun to Zhongli's chest and reaching for Chuuya.
Bad idea.
The moment the man's hand approaches, Chuuya's fingers twitch. A faint red glow—his gravity manipulation—flickers around him. But before the power flares fully, Zhongli grabs the robber's wrist. His grip is unshakable—unyielding as the stone he commands.
"Wh-What the hell are you?!"
Zhongli's voice is composed. "Karma is heavy when it accumulates. Eventually, it demands to be paid."
Then—resonance. Not through summoned pillars or flashy constructs. Reality is not a game. Instead, the ground ripples under Zhongli's will. Stone trembles, frequencies pulse through earth and bone. The robbers collapse, coughing blood from internal trauma.
Geo Resonance.
Zhongli doesn't need flashy theatrics. A whisper of power, and the earth obeys .
The only one still standing is the first thug, held frozen in Zhongli's grip, sweat dripping from his brow. He trembles.
"Don't be afraid," Zhongli says. "I'm not a good person."
Even more terrifying.
Zhongli asks his questions. The man answers through bloodied lips: the cursed timeline hasn't stopped the world from following its destined path. The war between ability users came and went. Japan remains in lockdown—only Yokohama is open. But chaos rules. Gangs like the Port Mafia, GSS, and Takasekai divide the city. It's a boiling pot of corruption, perfect for those who thrive in shadow.
Zhongli pieces it together: he and Chuuya are trapped here for the foreseeable future.
He sighs. "One last thing."
He points at the robbers, now huddled on the ground. "Hand over everything of value."
—Lord Zhongli, robbing the robbers. What would the Traveler say?
Moments later, the once-broke Morax now jingles with ill-gotten wealth.
First order of business? Food.
Sitting on a park bench, Zhongli feeds porridge to Chuuya, speaking in that lecturing tone of his:
> "The way of eating may seem mundane, but in terms of universal rationality, it is the foundation of civilization."
Chuuya eats blankly, wordlessly obeying like a small puppet, still detoxing from who-knows-what the people who made him fed him.
Zhongli doesn't expect him to understand—he just sows seeds, like a kind of philosophical prenatal education.
They finish. Zhongli disposes of the empty bowl and takes Chuuya into a nearby convenience store.
And then: gunfire.
Stray bullets pierce glass and scatter shelves. Zhongli reacts instantly—raising a rock barrier to block shrapnel. Any remaining debris floats, suspended by Chuuya's subconscious gravity field. Both emerge unscathed.
Two incidents in one day. Zhongli sighs.
> "As expected of Yokohama."
A tired voice echoes nearby, matching him word-for-word.
> "As expected of Yokohama."
Crouching behind a shelf is a disheveled man in a white coat, a small blonde girl by his side. The man glances up. "You new here?"
Zhongli brushes dust from Chuuya's hair. "It's been... enlightening."
The man snorts. "If I had a choice, I'd be anywhere else. This city—violence, disorder, moral decay... it's terminal."
Zhongli muses, "Some diseases demand drastic cures. If the right person took charge, it's not beyond healing."
The man raises an eyebrow. "Do you think you're that person?"
Zhongli's expression doesn't change. "I'm just a passerby."
The man chuckles. "With powers like that? I doubt it."
Then, politely: "Mori Ōgai. And you are?"
"Zhongli."
Mori blinks. "Foreign, I presume?"
"In every sense of the word."
Mori's gaze flickers toward Chuuya. "And the boy?"
"A child I happened to find. No blood relation."
"Kind of you to take him in." Mori's voice softens. "It's hard enough here with my own daughter."
The girl, Alice, suddenly speaks, pouting, "You're annoying, Rintarō!"
He panics. "Little Alice is adorable! I meant Yokohama is awful, not you!"
Alice sticks out her tongue and pokes Chuuya's cheek. "Hey, I'm Alice. What's your name, little brother?"
Chuuya stares at her, silent, unreadable. Still not sure how to respond to human interaction.
Mori scolds gently, "Alice, that's not polite—"
She huffs. "Mr. Zhongli didn't complain! You're the one being rude!"
Zhongli watches their act in silence, his expression unreadable.
Eventually, the gunfire outside ceases. Zhongli straightens, cradling Chuuya in one arm.
"You leaving?" Mori asks.
Zhongli nods. "If fate allows, we may meet again."
"I wouldn't go out just yet—"
Zhongli doesn't respond. He walks to the door and steps outside.
Several guns greet him. Ambushers—men from earlier. One of them is the man Zhongli defeated in the alley.
Zhongli raises an eyebrow. "Did you think about the civilians nearby? The shopkeeper you wounded with your bullets?"
Silence.
Then: the click of safeties released.
Zhongli exhales. "Then it seems your lesson wasn't painful enough."
The ground begins to hum. Invisible to most, the Geo element awakens beneath his feet, coiling and waiting.
Justice—earthbound and absolute—is coming.