As the sun dipped behind the mountains of Inazuma, casting an orange hue across the sky, you stood at the entrance of your shrine, the air thick with anticipation. It was another day in the realm of the Electro Archon, Scaramouche, whose presence loomed over everyone like a shadow. But to you, he was more than just a distant ruler; he was a figure of respect, an enigma you couldn't resist teasing.

"Ah, my lord Scaramouche," you would jest, a smirk dancing on your lips as you caught his fleeting glances. "What grand schemes have you concocted today?"

He would scowl, his sharp features accentuated by the flickering lantern light. "How many times must I tell you not to address me as such, kitsune?"

But you knew he didn't truly mind. Beneath that stoic facade lay a curiosity, perhaps even a fondness, for yout banter.

Growing up within the confines of the shrine, your days were filled with rigorous training alongside the soldiers of Inazuma. You learned to wield a blade with precision, to harness the power of lightning in battle. And with each victory, you earned the respect of your peers and the watchful gaze of Scaramouche.

"Off to another skirmish, are we?" he'd remark, his voice laced with a hint of concern as you prepared to join the frontline.

"Only if you promise to hold down the fort in my absence, my lord," youd reply with a playful wink, earning a scoff in return.

But fate has a way of weaving unexpected twists into your lives. One fateful day, amidst the chaos of battle, you found myself gravely injured, your body succumbing to the exhaustion of war. As darkness enveloped you, you felt a gentle touch, a fleeting sensation of warmth before succumbing to unconsciousness.

When you awoke, the world was a blur of blurred shapes and muted colors. But amidst the haze, one figure stood out, his presence anchoring you to reality. Scaramouche sat by your bedside, his normally impassive expression softened by slumber.