Kimiko and the Accidental Proposal

by Forthright

  ELEVEN

  Coping Mechanisms

  Akira ran ahead to unlock their room, knowing the phoenixes would want to be away from public spaces before saying more. He’d met Suuzu’s older brother during the two visits that the Farroost clan had allowed him to their island colony. A tropical paradise of birds and beaches.

  There, Juuyu had always worn the flowing clothes common to the phoenix clan—draping layers, loose pantaloons, sunset hues. Today’s only concession to his heritage was a silken shirt, obviously of Amaranthine crafting. The cloth was as dark as Juuyu’s western-style suit, but when he moved, it glowed like embers, fire buried in a black opal.

  “This is us.” Akira fumbled a little with the key, then pushed the door wide, stepping aside. “Welcome.”

  Suuzu hurried in, but his older brother firmly steered Akira through next. “Allow me.” Juuyu shut and locked the door, then silently set about adding sigils.

  Akira emptied his pockets. Suuzu tidied everything away. Akira plunked down in the middle of the floor. Suuzu hesitated, as if torn between who he wanted closer, then joined Akira to wait.

  Their room wasn’t exactly furnished. All Amaranthine students had been allowed to specify their particular needs and preferences, and Suuzu needed space to transform at night. Akira didn’t miss the bunk beds that came standard in most dormitories. He and Suuzu had barely used theirs at their last school. The phoenix preferred building a nest atop futons each evening, then folding away their bedding in the morning.

  Suuzu kept fidgeting, so Akira casually messed up his own hair. His roommate’s exasperated glance turned sheepish. Akira just grinned and tilted his head forward, inviting him to preen. That sort of thing usually calmed Suuzu down.

  Phoenixes disliked clutter, so their room echoed slightly with the drastic minimalism of their belongings. They had a fold-away table to use for either snacks or studying, but that was currently stored in their futon cupboard. A low bookcase just inside the door held textbooks, student ID, spare change, and Akira’s phone charger.

  Few needs and fewer wants.

  Akira had come to appreciate a life unburdened by extraneous stuff. Just as he’d learned what mattered most to Suuzu, because a phoenix’s needs might be simple … but desperate. Air and light, a view of the sky and the ready means to reach it. Privacy, safety, orderliness, and stability. And closeness, but only in the presence of mutual trust.

  He’d often wondered why the Farroost clan had sent Suuzu away from home. This whole ambassador thing didn’t really seem to suit anyone from their colony. Yet Suuzu endured it. As did Juuyu, who worked for some unmentionable section of the In-between.

  Akira suspected that Juuyu was an international spy. He certainly looked the part.

  In their speaking form—as in their truest form—the brothers bore a strong family resemblance. But where Suuzu kept his hair short, Juuyu’s riot of black curls was somewhat contained by a series of golden hoops descending to the base of his spine. The hooked nose was the same, but Juuyu’s managed to be much more imposing. Unlike most Amaranthine Akira had met—and that included every one of the Five—this one actually felt dangerous. He couldn’t have explained why. Juuyu just seemed capable of anything.

  Juuyu finally turned to study them.

  “You came,” murmured Suuzu.

  “You are mine. Of course I came. Are you well?”

  “Well enough.”

  “Hmm.” Juuyu’s gaze swung to Akira. “How is he faring?”

  Leaning supportively into his best friend’s side, he said, “Pretty much what you’d expect.”

  With a grumbling huff, Juuyu sank to the floor. “While I appreciate your commitment to your duty, I would rather you showed me more than your brave face. Our circumstances are similar, brother mine.”

  “Are you homesick, too?” asked Akira.

  “Not as such.” Juuyu hunched his shoulders, then relaxed them with a purposeful shake, as if settling his feathers. “My superiors are well aware of my instinctual idiosyncrasies; indeed, they have reason to appreciate my sensitivity to minutia. So I have learned to cope with … necessary disarray.”

  Suuzu shuffled forward on his knees. “How?”

  Juuyu inclined his head. “Routines that can be maintained no matter where I may find myself.”

  “Like … a morning jog? Or always packing your own pillow?” asked Akira.

  The phoenix’s lips twitched. “In my line of work, those are not always convenient, but that is the general idea.”

  “Okay, but what kinds of routines?” Akira pressed. “Can you be more specific?”

  “By necessity, they are small things.” Juuyu riffled through his pockets and withdrew an old-fashioned pocket watch, a slim packet of pistachios, two clemantines, and a green glass bottle with a stopper. “I keep the basics of a nest about my person.”

  Akira tapped the timepiece. “I thought Amaranthine didn’t use clocks.”

  “A concession.” Juuyu loosened his necktie and undid a few buttons. “I have always worked closely with humans, and I confess to appreciating the precision offered by clockwork. Punctuality has become something of a hobby.”

  “Wouldn’t a phone be handier?” asked Akira.

  “I prefer to leave such things to my partner. But here, Suuzu. This has become my nest.” From around his neck, Juuyu unknotted a fine braided cord to which several items had been secured.

  Suuzu scooted so close, his knees touched Juuyu’s. Akira crowded in, saying, “That’s almost like the sort of things wolves wear.”

  “One of my teammates came from the packs. He helped.”

  “May we?” Suuzu asked plaintively, ready to snatch back his hands.

  Juuyu’s low trill was almost like a purr. “That is our purpose, brother mine. Am I not your mentor in such things?”

  Akira was about to ask for his own sake, but realized Suuzu actually had.

  Soft as down, Juuyu added, “You would not be inside my wards if I did not trust you, Akira.”

  They explored the phoenix’s necklace, and Suuzu finally ventured, “How does it work?”

  Juuyu’s lips took a wry twist. “This may seem little more than a flight of fancy, but I cannot deny that it calms the part of me that craves a nest.”

  “I get it. I think,” said Akira. “These must be reminders of what’s most important to you. Will you tell us what they mean?”

  Juuyu began with a wooden bead, its milky blue paint showing signs of wear, as if it had been rubbed. “This is my piece of the sky.” Touching the next item along the strand, he quietly said, “And this is for the star under which I was born.”

  Sharp facets glittered amidst the mooring strands.

  “It’s heavy.” Akira held the stone up so it caught what remained of the daylight coming from above. He traded a glance with Suuzu before adding, “It sort of looks like a diamond.”

  “Naturally. And this is a pearl, to represent the tides that were once my only timepiece.” Juuyu quietly admitted, “I have found that I miss the sound of the sea.”

  “Yes,” breathed Suuzu. “Are these from Letik’s tree?”

  Juuyu hummed an affirmative and showed them how to open what looked like an ornamental test tube. “He refreshes the petals whenever I visit.”

  Suuzu sniffed, and an expression of wonder crossed his face. “Home.”

  The fragrance had faded, but Akira recognized it right away. Both times he’d visited the Farroost colony, they’d slept in a kind of treehouse, high among the limbs of a massive tree that always seemed to be in bloom, no matter what the time of year.

  A series of five crystals, each a different hue, glinted in their knotted settings. Akira couldn’t tell if the items had any power anchored to them. He’d been tested more than once—and by the best—but it was no use. Akira didn’t have a reaver’s ability to detect stuff like that.

  “These are tuned?” Suuzu asked.

  “To the members of my team. They are a little like a f
lock.” Juuyu’s fingertip grazed the one with a greenish cast. “This one is for my partner.”

  His younger brother leaned forward. “You have a nestmate?”

  Juuyu tweaked the end of Suuzu’s nose. “Not so dear, but just as trusted. When our instincts interfere with our work, we help each other. As I will help you.”

  “With something like this?” Suuzu reverently returned the necklace to his brother.

  “It may be some time before you need to rely on something so tenuous. I must go where I am sent with very little warning … and with no idea of how long I might remain. But you are here, and this room will do very well.” Juuyu tucked away his necklace and buttoned his shirt. “I only have tonight, but in the deep of winter, the night is long.”

  He was staying over? Akira was glad for Suuzu’s sake. Although his best friend had more siblings than Akira could keep track of, he was obviously closest to Juuyu. An admired brother who was somehow also a mentor. Maybe because they had both left the island and worked closely with humans? More to the point, Akira asked, “You can help Suuzu?”

  “I will do what can be done.” Juuyu rose and paced the perimeter of the room. “I will do what Suuzu cannot do for himself—establish a nest.”

  “Why can’t you…?” Akira asked.

  His best friend didn’t meet his gaze.

  “Youth. The elders have given Suuzu an adult’s status and responsibilities, and my brother has exceeded every expectation. But that which was given cannot replace that which grows.” Juuyu came to crouch before them. Cupping Suuzu’s face, he took a gentler tone. “You have not been sleeping, brother mine. Tonight, you two will be the chicks in my nest.”

  TWELVE

  Show of Trust

  Suuzu Farroost often wondered at the fleeting nature of humanity. He understood in part, for he remembered how quickly he’d fledged. Until the age of twelve, Amaranthine progressed much as humans did, but from there, maturation slowed. Days became decades, and the years became a gap that many Amaranthine preferred not to approach.

  A phoenix’s trust was barely gained before death crept in and a new generation rushed forward. Reavers in their enclave were like waves lapping the shore, barely cresting before sinking away, swift in their succession, an endless backdrop to a peaceful life. But Suuzu had spent enough years on quiet beaches to know that sometimes, a little wave would carry something precious onto the sand.

  Akira was one such treasure.

  It was a miracle Suuzu had found him. Given the swiftness with which humans escalated through adolescence to adulthood, a single delay, a year or two in either direction, and Suuzu’s nestmate would have passed by, lost before he was ever found.

  There were nights he trembled at the tenuous happenstance that had saved him from hopelessness and homesickness.

  Circumstances had conspired—Twineshaft’s call for support, a longstanding Farroost obligation, Juuyu’s cautious recommendation—thrusting Suuzu into an integration experiment. He had thought himself prepared. Everyone had, or he wouldn’t have been sent.

  Three Amaranthine “students” transferred into a boys’ middle school, accompanied by their reaver escorts. No one had been surprised when the two wolves had asked to room together, which left Suuzu. Would he consider a human roommate?

  Yes. If the choosing was his.

  Thus, the tour of classes took on a dual purpose. In each room, the reaver would talk about the Emergence while Suuzu and the two wolves stood to one side, very much on display. But the reavers were engaging, the wolves were gregarious, and the students were fascinated. A good beginning. Suuzu’s escort would lead him up and down the rows of desks, dispensing interesting bits of lore and demonstrating the meeting of palms.

  Suuzu’s only real contribution was his presence, and his one task was proving more difficult than expected. Because fear and fascination made poor nestmates.

  He’d begun subtle posturing when a student showed potential—flexing his claws, hardening his gaze, looming in general. The reavers didn’t stop him because it did simplify the process.

  On the third day, when his escort stopped beside Akira’s desk, Suuzu peered down his nose at the boy in his best Juuyu imitation.

  The boy immediately offered his palms.

  With an unnecessary flourish of claws, Suuzu returned the greeting.

  Rather than shrinking away, Akira grinned at him. “Hey, Suuzu! How’s it going? Sure am glad you guys interrupted. This is way more interesting than a history lecture, you know?” He rolled his eyes expressively. “So didja pick a club yet?”

  It was only the same sort of casual chatter he’d heard between classes and in the halls. Utterly guileless. Refreshingly casual. Shockingly hard to find. At that moment, hope fluttered in Suuzu’s soul, and he whispered, “Please.”

  Akira glanced between him and the reaver. “What’s up?”

  The reaver must have prompted him, because the next thing Suuzu knew, sturdy hands were supporting his. Careless and carefree. Amiable and accepting. Exactly what he’d needed.

  And they’d become inseparable.

  Juuyu had worried, might still be worried. Because Suuzu’s coping mechanism was more fleeting than diamonds or pearls … and rarer even than the petals of the rarest of trees.

  A stage whisper cut across his musings. “You’re gonna have to try again. He didn’t hear you.”

  Juuyu warbled lightly from overhead, where he appeared to sit in midair.

  “Brother?” Suuzu rose off the floor, fully prepared to lend whatever assistance he could in this next layering of wards.

  But Juuyu waved him away. “Begin your evening patterns. I have more sigils to set—inside and out—and a ward at each window.”

  “So many?” asked Suuzu.

  “As your kin and your closest, I regret that I cannot stay with you, but I can do this much.” His brother’s fingers flashed as he pulled another sigil into existence. “You would be surprised how much this will help.”

  Already, Suuzu could feel the difference. The walls fairly vibrated with Juuyu’s care and concern. He’d been at it for hours, multiplying the strength of the protections that overlapped and interlocked, securing their dorm room. Suuzu hadn’t realized his older brother was so accomplished with defensive barriers.

  He frowned. Were these for peace of mind alone? Or should he be worried that some of the patterns looked suspiciously retaliatory? “Brother, are you certain this many safeguards are necessary?”

  “Refresh yourselves and return here for preening.” Juuyu curled his tenth finger, a private signal between them. One that meant he could say no more.

  Which of course meant that there was more.

  And that it posed a threat.

  Akira yawned and stretched as he led the way back from the communal bathroom at the end of their floor. Reaching for the doorknob, he hesitated.

  “Feel anything?” Suuzu asked softly.

  “Never do.” Akira sort of wished he’d inherited some little part of his sister’s amazing abilities. Tsumiko’s reaver ratings were top-level, but he didn’t have the sort of soul that pulled at Amaranthine. “Is it safe?”

  “For you, certainly.” The phoenix cocked his head, eyeing their door with obvious incredulity. “You and I may be the only ones who can safely pass through.”

  The door opened for them, and Juuyu spared a glance for the empty hall. “Were you expecting to entertain often?”

  “Maybe,” said Akira.

  At the same time Suuzu said, “No.”

  “Okay, no.” Akira shuffled inside, rubbing wearily at his damp hair. “If we want to hang out with anyone, we’ll go down to the student center or meet up somewhere else.”

  Juuyu startled him by bending low enough to look him in the eye. “Thank you for the concessions you make for our comfort.”

  “It’s no big deal.”

  “No?” Juuyu cut a sly look in his younger brother’s direction. “If you give in to him every time, you may learn
to resent a phoenix’s preferences. And he will never learn to appreciate what can only be found by leaving one’s nest.”

  “Yeah, we know.” He and Suuzu had talked about it lots of times, and both of them had pushed past plenty of comfort zones already.

  Juuyu’s hum managed to sound skeptical, and Suuzu trilled a sulky retort as he pulled bedding from the closet. Akira tried to help, but as usual, his best friend came along right after him—smoothing, tucking, correcting. Which seemed a little silly since all they were going to do was mess it up the minute they laid down. But this sort of thing was important to Suuzu, and that was important to Akira.

  “Into the nest, my chicks.”

  Juuyu’s tone was taunting, but Akira liked that about him. Most Amaranthine worked so hard to not-scare the average human that they went out of their way to be nice and polite and passive. Not that Akira was against diplomacy. He was just more comfortable with people who were willing to get comfortable.

  He sank to his knees on the bed, head bowed to accept the daily inevitability of preening. Back when they’d first met, he’d been embarrassed by the phoenix’s touch. But they’d worked through stuff like boundaries and the appropriate time and place. This kind of thing was actually really nice. Relaxing. Soothing. And sort of revealing, because Akira could often catch a little of Suuzu’s mood while he fussed. He could also tell when the one fussing wasn’t Suuzu.

  “Wrong brother,” he mumbled.

  “My nest, my prerogative.” Juuyu worked his fingers through Akira’s short hair. “Come closer, Suuzu. I can deal with two chicks at once.”

  Akira felt his friend settle at his side. Turning his head, he caught Suuzu’s eye and smiled. Juuyu was subjecting them to a simultaneous preening, the very same sifting and kneading that Akira had found so flustering when he was fourteen. Now, it felt like family.

  “You should let your hair grow,” Juuyu murmured.

  Suuzu chirped a crisp negative.

  His brother chuckled. “A shocking rebellion. However, I cannot deny that you fit in better among humans with your hair shortened.”