Kimiko and the Accidental Proposal

by Forthright

THIRTY-ONE

  Goh-sensei

  Tenma started at the abrupt scrape and criiik coming from his ceiling and looked up just as a frigid flood of night air poured through the open skylight.

  “Found you.” Inti lowered himself through the gap, swinging from the edge for a few moments before dropping so the skylight fell shut with a sharp rattle of panes. He hit the floor and somersaulted, coming up at his side. “Your room. So high.”

  “The ceiling?”

  “That, too.” Inti bounced up to balance on the back of Tenma’s chair. “Homework?”

  “Personal study.” Tenma showed the book he’d checked out from the school library. “This one’s about bear clans. I want to learn about the Amaranthine in our class so I can understand them better.”

  “Bear.” The tail that had been around his wrist all afternoon looped around Tenma’s shoulders like a heavy scarf. “Tall, tall, Brev.”

  “Yes, I was curious about Brev.” Tenma had to tip his head all the way back to see Inti’s face. “I was going to look up monkeys, but I couldn’t find any books. Maybe someone else checked them out.”

  “Maybe.” From an upside down vantage, it was really hard to read the expression on Inti’s face. “Maybe not.”

  Tenma thought it best to take a different topic. “So have you been racing around the rooftops?”

  “A little.”

  “Is your room close by?” They’d parted in the student center, so he wasn’t sure.

  Inti’s cheeks puffed out. “No. It’s small and low and dark. Yours is bigger, better.”

  “Empty,” muttered Tenma.

  Quizzical eyebrows quirked. “Lonely?”

  “I suppose.” Tenma sighed. “Yes.”

  Fingers suddenly sifted through Tenma’s hair, busily inspecting it by sections, gently scratching his scalp. He was being groomed. Which would have seemed odder if Tenma hadn’t noticed how often Suuzu fussed with Akira’s hair. “I just realized. You don’t have claws?”

  Inti hummed. “Mixed blood, mixed parts.”

  And all at once, the words came out. “Do you want to be my roommate?”

  “Risky.” But the tail around his shoulders tightened. “Tenma is kind.”

  He shook his head, because his motive was so much more selfish. “Tenma is lonely.”

  “Inti must race around the rooftops. Comings and goings, but stayings. Good?”

  “Good,” Tenma agreed, reaching for the school directory. “I wonder who I need to speak to about room assignments.”

  As he flipped to the pages of contact information, a tuft of fur tickled Tenma under his chin. He automatically pushed it aside, then gasped, “Sorry!”

  “Sorry?”

  “I touched your tail!”

  Inti blinked, then giggled. Soft and serious, he said, “My tail is touching you.”

  “But Ms. Reeves explained in class … about tails.”

  “Wolves.” He rolled his eyes. “My tail is not for decoration or for pride or for chasing. My tail is for balance and for hanging and for holding.”

  Tenma turned in his chair, and Inti’s tail loosened to allow it. Searching the crosser’s face, he asked, “Why do you pretend?”

  Inti hunched forward until his nose nearly touched Tenma’s. “Reasons.”

  Disappointment stung, but he only nodded.

  With a soft sigh and a chittering of nonsense, Inti took Tenma’s face in his hands and said, “Fools are harmless. Innocence is endearing. If Inti is sweet and silly, then Inti is simple.”

  He was talking about himself as if he were another person. “Why hide the truth?”

  Inti shook his head. “Reasons.”

  Tenma let it go at that. “So … may I touch your tail?”

  The furred tip twitched under his chin. “My tail is touching you.”

  And since that seemed to be all the permission he needed, Tenma lifted both hands to the tail that was as thick as Inti’s arm and twice as long. It had weight and seemed to move with a mind of its own. Not wanting to intrude too far, Tenma confined himself to cautious patting.

  Inti snickered. “My tail is not intimate territory.”

  “So you’ll let anyone touch it?”

  The crosser’s fingers returned to grooming. “Would you take a stranger’s hand and hold it.”

  “No.” Tenma considered different social situations. “Not normally.”

  Inti nodded. “Like that.”

  Tenma remembered the casual intimacy he’d encountered while staying in the Starmark compound. Pack instincts. Family feelings. “What do monkeys call their friends?”

  “Tenma.”

  He chuckled. “Okay, but wolves talk about pack and den. Some cats use hearth for home. And I’ve heard Akira refer to himself as Suuzu’s nestmate. Are there simian equivalents?”

  “Never asked.”

  He held up the directory. “Do you want to? Because Goh Impleer is one of the resident directors, and he’s your sort. Let’s go ask.”

  Inti stilled. “You ask. You tell.”

  “You don’t want to go?”

  “No.”

  “Aren’t you curious?”

  “I am free,” Inti said softly. “That is enough.”

  “Will it bother you if I do some research?”

  “You are also free.” Inti gave Tenma’s hair a final pat, then unwound himself. In one effortless spring, he reached the top of the kitchenette’s cabinet and crouched. Making a playful flicking motion with his fingers, he said, “Go, go, Goh.”

  “Will you be here when I get back?”

  “Tenma still wants Inti?”

  “Why wouldn’t I?”

  With an impish smile, Inti answered, “Reasons.”

  The resident director lived one floor below Tenma’s, on the building’s opposite corner, so he hurried for the closest stairwell. Along one empty hallway, down another. The Amaranthine’s door was clearly marked with a nameplate—GOH IMPLEER—and flanked by two precarious towers of clay pots glazed in shades of turquoise and orange. Very strange. Almost pretty. Probably intentional, like those artsy installations Tenma had seen in the lobbies of major hotels and corporate offices.

  With a wary eye on the teetering arrangements, he tapped on the wide door.

  A muffled voice hailed from inside. “It’s open!”

  Tenma turned the knob, and the door swung inward on silent hinges, leaving him gawking on the threshold. He wasn’t sure if this was Goh-sensei’s office, apartment, or both. The air was hot, thick, and smelled damp and green. Vines clung to the walls, climbing toward a darkened glass ceiling through which weak starlight showed. Tenma realized that while Goh-sensei’s door was on the floor below his, this apartment soared to the roofline, creating a three-story column of tropics.

  Lamps sparkled at intervals, many seemingly suspended in midair, their flames glowing through colored glass. More of those blues and oranges, which Tenma guessed might actually be the Rivven’s clan colors.

  “Goh-sensei?” he called softly.

  “Up here. Dear me. My first guest, and me without a bookmark.”

  A baritone voice, playful, apologetic. Tenma caught a movement near the top, where sagging nets took up a portion of one lofty corner. A figure rolled out of the hammock, slowing a seemingly heedless descent with the help of tightropes and unnatural—or at least inhuman—grace. He landed a short distance away, and when he straightened to his full height, Tenma had to look up.

  “Good evening, Tenma Subaru.”

  Goh Impleer might be a monkey, but that wasn’t obvious at a glance. With the elfin ears, claws, and a fang-tipped smile, he looked like any other Rivven. No animal traits. Thick ropes of reddish hair hung well past Goh-sensei’s shoulders, except for the parts framing his face. A ruddy shock stuck every which way, a cross between bedhead and the frizzled aftermath of a lightning strike.

  Lamplight sparkled through a rakish collection of rings and dangling gems piercing Goh-sensei’s ears. Maybe they did stu
ff, like warding or amplification. Of course, it was equally possible he liked to accessorize.

  He was broad in the chest and long of limb, and he wore loose pants and a sleeveless shirt. Could these be his pajamas? That was an awkward thought. Tenma tried to remember the thing about Rivven and sleep patterns. They did sleep, he was sure. Hadn’t he woken up in the middle of the Five’s slumber party?

  Tenma was staring and stalling. And the Rivven was letting him get a good look. Suddenly self-conscious, he mumbled, “Hello, sir. Sorry, sir.”

  “Call me Goh.” He strolled forward, beckoned for him to come all the way in, and closed the door. “You’re a pleasant surprise. No need to be nervous, pup.”

  “Pup?” he ventured.

  With a light touch at the elbow, Goh guided him to a cushioned bench and sat beside him. “Harmonious wouldn’t take you in without letting it be known that you’re under his protection.”

  “He announced it?”

  “To the faculty,” Goh-sensei confirmed. “Such are the dealings of dogs—more honesty than subtlety. But one always knows where one stands.”

  Tenma’s face was heating. But he was also sort of … pleased that Quen’s dad had been serious about the whole packmate thing.

  “What brings you to my door?” With a faint smile, he asked, “Trouble with our new student, perhaps?”

  “Inti’s no trouble, but … this is about him. How did you know?”

  “Oh, I have my ways.”

  Goh’s evasiveness had a coaxing quality, as if trying to draw Tenma further into conversation. So he felt comfortable asking, “Like what?”

  “I have an excellent sense of smell. And he’s shed upon you. Groomed you, too, I’d wager.” He lifted a few hairs from Tenma’s sleeve. “But I’ll confess to some curiosity about our newest student, whose lineage is unmistakable. As it happens, watching him meant watching you.”

  “We’re in the same triad. Well, we’re four now, so … quad?”

  The teacher smoothed his finger over his lower lip, half-hiding a smile. “Is that your excuse for his sudden and persistent inseparability?”

  Tenma answered slowly, unsure if he was being teased or misunderstood. “Inti was uneasy at first. He’s fine though. Everyone in class likes him.”

  “But you are his favorite.”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m not really sure.” Tenma thought back to what Inti had said earlier. “I don’t think he needs a reason any more than I need an excuse. We get along. We’re friends now. And we’d like to room together, please.”

  Goh bent closer, and Tenma could see the thin spike of his pupil showing against dark irises. Maybe brown. It was hard to tell in the shifting candlelight. But the Rivven’s proximity was giving Tenma other impressions—colors and moods. Like the time when he was with Quen and Lapis. Was his sigil weakening?

  “No need to be nervous, pup,” he repeated softly.

  Tenma took a deep breath and slowly reached for Goh-sensei. Fingers bumped cloth, hair, skin, rewarding him with a strengthening sense of an emerging personality. Mood and hue. Age and endurance. Wisdom and delight.

  With a soft grunt, Goh caught his hand, enfolding it with both of his own in an oblique offer of support. “What do you see, Tenma Subaru?”

  “Brown, I think. But a cool brown. Earthy. Strong and pliant.” He searched for the right word for the color of Goh-sensei’s soul. “Clay?”

  Head angled appraisingly, Goh said, “The potter’s wheel is behind a screen in the corner, along with my store of clay. But scent is not sight.”

  Tenma frowned. Now that he was thinking about it, there was a clean, muddy smell to the room. Had he been listening to his nose instead of seeing with his soul? He wished he could express these impressions in a way that made sense. “I’m not sure how to explain. I’m not a reaver.”

  “Do not let lack of learning prevent you from choosing words. I will neither quibble nor correct.”

  So Tenma told him, haltingly at first, about his terror on the first day of school, about Quen’s sigil, and about Lapis Mossberne’s kindness.

  Goh-sensei let him ramble, only murmuring encouragement and sympathy from time to time. And at last he said, “A good plan, which I’d willingly improve. Bring young Eloquence along someday soon, and I’ll have him cut a sigil into clay for you. Once fired, it will give better protection than a slip of paper, and it will see you through until Lapis presents you with a gaudier ornament.”

  “Thank you.” Tenma felt much better, though their conversation had drifted some distance from his intended purpose.

  “Was there something more?” Goh-sensei beckoned encouragingly. “Information, perhaps. Or guidance?”

  In a flash, Tenma remembered the question he’d been muddling earlier. “What do monkeys call their young?”

  Goh’s surprise melted into amusement. “I’ve been coached by the diplomatic division with regards to all manner of counsel, but I hardly expected curiosity about procreative processes.”

  “Oh!” Tenma waved his hands furiously. “It’s not that at all, Sensei! I’m asking for Inti, since he doesn’t seem to know much about his inhuman side.”

  “Wouldn’t it be better if he came to me?”

  Tenma nodded. “I think so, too. Maybe he will once I tell him what you’re like. That you’re nice and patient and …”

  “ … and brown?”

  He nodded sheepishly. Brown fell so far short of the soul he could still sense—rich and real and right beside him.

  “You’re an interesting one.” Goh gently mussed his hair, which seemed to be turning into another grooming session. Tenma bowed his head, accepting the touch. “Most of our human students struggle with the ordinary intimacies that are part of Amaranthine culture. But Harmonious claims you nestle like a pup.”

  Tenma couldn’t decide if that was a compliment or more teasing. “Isn’t that why we’re here? To learn what we each consider ordinary?”

  Goh laughed softly and continued his petting. “You’re unusually accepting. It makes your tale of first-day fear difficult to picture.”

  Tenma’s eyes had drifted shut. He hummed vaguely. “Probably because of Quen’s sigil.”

  “What if I took it away?”

  “Lapis tried that.” He frowned, searching for words. “It’s like alarm bells going off, warming me there’s danger nearby.”

  “Interesting.” Goh eased away, his expression thoughtful. “Far be it from me to dabble with your distress. Trust Lapis. And if your new roommate is ready to learn about ordinary things, coax him to come to me as a tribemate.”

  Tenma was delighted by this new detail. “A tribe is like a pack?”

  “Officially.” Goh smirked. “Though many would argue that a more suitable collective noun would be mischief. We’re one of the trickster clans, after all.”

  “A mischief of monkeys?”

  “I’ll order a hammock installed in your room. I do hope you’re not afraid of heights.”

  Tenma’s gaze drifted upward. “Not … especially?”

  “Good.” Goh chucked him under the chin. “Packs nestle; tribes tangle.”

  THIRTY-TWO

  Fourth Anniversary

  Akira stuffed his hands deeper into his pockets and smiled. He didn’t mind the bite in the air so much, seeing how Suuzu enjoyed getting out of doors. His friend might crave the safety and order of their dorm room, but he seemed equally attracted to the vast and changing sky. Peach and coral burned through clouds caught by the setting sun.

  Kinda pretty.

  Funny how he’d never given much thought to this stuff before. But Suuzu never seemed to get enough of two things—sky or sea. How long had it been since he went flying? Or trekked to a seaside place? Probably not since they were at Stately House—weeks ago.

  “Say, everyone, is it okay if we stop in here?” asked Kimiko, hands pressed pleadingly. “I’ll be quick!”

  “Certainly,” Suuzu mur
mured. “No need for haste.”

  A convenience store. Not one of the big-name chain stores, but a pokey little place that looked like it had been in business since the granny behind the counter was their age. Kimi had a thing for little shops and seemed to know every single one in Keishi.

  Akira rummaged through his pockets for change. “Want something, Isla? My treat.”

  She poked through the change in his palm. Slim pickings. But she matched his grin and suggested, “Split a steamed bun with me?”

  “Pork or red bean?” he quizzed, even though he already knew the answer.

  Isla simply winked.

  Akira ambled over to the counter to order the sweet bun. Finding Suuzu at his elbow, he asked, “Want one?”

  The phoenix passed him more coins than necessary, so Akira bought four to share out.

  A soft squeal of delight came from two aisles over, where they found Kimi crouched before the candy section, stacks of chocolate bars teetering. Eyes alight, she exclaimed, “They’re in! A whole line of designs to celebrate the Emergence!”

  The fourth anniversary was next week, the weeklong holiday coinciding with the Lunar New Year.

  Akira dropped down beside her, checking out her haul. “Clan crests are definitely a classy way to go. Is it just the Five?”

  “No!” Kimi laughed softly. “I’ve found eleven different designs in this box, but I heard there will be forty all together. Not sure how I’m going to afford them all.”

  “That’s a cinch,” said Akira. “All you have to do is acquaint your betrothed with the Valentine’s Day tradition. Then he can shower you with chocolates.”

  To Akira’s amusement, she actually considered it. But only for a moment.

  “I couldn’t do that. Most of the fun is in finding them myself.”

  “That might be difficult.” Isla pointed to the small print on a nearby sign. “Some designs are only available regionally.”

  Kimiko groaned. “Train fare, too?”

  “Probably not,” Akira cautioned. “The school is keeping close tabs on everyone, and Sensei is keeping even closer tabs on you. Or did you forget the security detail at your place?”