The magnificent, glowing pendant of the Shogun was more than just a symbol of authority; it was a passport to a new kind of freedom for Ren. It was a tangible, undeniable declaration that he was under the direct protection of the nation's ruler, and as such, Ganyu's ever-present, loving but slightly suffocating, vigilance was finally able to relax. Her worry was still there, a constant, gentle hum beneath the surface, but the sharp, panicked edge was gone. She trusted in the Shogun's decree.
And so, Ren's days in Inazuma took on a new, independent rhythm. The Grand Narukami Shrine became his second home, a peaceful, beautiful sanctuary high above the world's troubles. He made the trip up and down the winding mountain path almost daily. Sometimes Ganyu would accompany him, her presence a familiar, comforting warmth. More often, he would be joined by Yae Miko, their walks a delightful, meandering series of witty conversations and philosophical debates.
And sometimes, he would go alone. He would fly his hoverboard, soaring through the skies of the strange, beautiful, and violet-tinged nation, the Shogun's pendant a silent, powerful ward against any who might question his presence. He was no longer a ward to be guarded, but an independent observer on a divine mission.
During his visits to the city, he would hear whispers of the Traveler, Lumine. The hero of Mondstadt and the honored guest of Liyue was already making a name for herself in Inazuma, though not in the way one might expect.
He heard tales from the gossiping merchants and the quiet, observant shrine maidens. Lumine had apparently become deeply entangled with the affairs of the Yashiro Commission, specifically with their affable and well-connected "fixer," Thoma.
"I heard she had to help three different people just to get a meeting with the Commision," a shopkeeper would whisper.
"And then she had to help a sword-maker, and a master craftsman, and even deliver a package for the Kanjou Commission!" another would add.
Ren would listen to these stories, a small, knowing, and deeply empathetic smile on his face. He knew exactly what was happening. Lumine, the powerful, world-traveling hero, had once again, as she had in Mondstadt and Liyue, become the ultimate "errand girl." She was navigating the complex, bureaucratic, and deeply personal webs of Inazuma's society, solving the problems of its people one small, often mundane, task at a time, all in the service of her greater quest. He felt a deep, fond sympathy for his friend and her seemingly endless list of chores.
His own days, by contrast, were a picture of scholarly leisure. His "mission" to observe Inazuma was a broad, undefined directive, and he took to it with a child's curious and meandering pace. His greatest ally in this was Yae Miko, who had taken his education in Inazuman culture as her personal project.
Her primary classroom was the Yae Publishing House.
"To understand a nation, little one," she would declare with a grand, dramatic flourish, "you must not only see its monuments and meet its leaders. You must read its stories."
She gave him a pass that granted him free, unlimited access to any book in the entire publishing house. The establishment became his personal library. He would spend entire afternoons curled up in a comfortable chair, a stack of books beside him, completely lost in the worlds of Inazuman literature.
Miko would always be on hand to offer her personal recommendations. She would bring him ancient, serious historical texts detailing the Archon War, and then, in the next breath, she would press the latest, most popular light novel into his hands with a mischievous wink. "This one is dreadful for the mind, but wonderful for the soul," she would say. "A healthy diet requires a balance of nutrients, after all."
He read tales of heroic samurai, of tragic shrine maidens, of cunning youkai, and of course, he read the entirety of the wildly popular series, "That Time I Got Reincarnated as the Raiden Shogun."
He was not just seeing Inazuma; he was absorbing its culture, its history, its hopes, and its fears, one page at a time. He was the quiet observer, the honored guest, living a life of peaceful, scholarly leisure, while his friend, the hero of the story, was out in the world, running errands and slowly, painstakingly, changing it.