Fumiko and the Finicky Nestmate, page 14
Akira wanted one. Or maybe he just wanted them.
He couldn’t ever remember being homesick before.
Pulling out his phone, he sent texts until the telltale clack of wood on stone alerted him to Tabi-oji’s approach. The man was dressed in the same manner, and it hit Akira that it was the first time they’d been standing next to each other. If not for the centimeters he gained by his geta, Tabi-oji and Akira would have been about the same height.
“You made it!”
The man offered a slight bow, then considered the menu board. “Is this what you would like to eat?”
“Sure. The food’s good. I tried three of these sandwiches yesterday.”
Tabi-oji’s eyebrows shot up. “I am surprised by your appetite.”
Akira laughed. “I shared with a friend.”
The man hummed, and his attention strayed back to the menu. “I am not used to these kinds of things. Choose something and share with me?”
“That works. Do you have a preference?”
“You would like to try something new, yes?”
That was appealing. “It’d be fun to work through the whole menu. Will you be here long enough?”
“I could be.”
Akira handed him the menu in Japanese. “Maybe if you help me, we can make it through all of them.”
“In exchange for stories of your father?”
He jammed his hands into his pockets. “I’m sorry. That was presumptuous of me.”
“It is all right to be greedy sometimes.” Tabi-oji tucked the folded paper into his sleeve. “Share with me, and I will share with you. Please, order our meal.”
So Akira stepped up and ordered the Mettlebright, adding two bottles of tea to the tray.
While he chatted with the cashier, Tabi-oji lingered at his side, a serene expression on his face as he gazed out over the lobby.
“Ready?” Akira peered around. “Do you want to sit in here? Or try for a spot outside?”
“The day is pleasant.”
So they found a round table in the courtyard, where the sun was bright, but not too warm, and a light breeze ruffled the scalloped edges of their umbrella.
Once the sandwich was divided, Tabi-oji asked, “What do you know about Naoki?”
“Not much. I was still in diapers when we were bundled off to Saint Midori’s. The sisters let Sis and I stay together, but Midori’s is an all-girls school once you get past elementary classes. So I moved to a boys’ school nearby.”
“You were both alone?”
“Not really. I made friends. And our uncle arranged for visits.” Akira chewed thoughtfully. “That part’s a little strange. Argent looked into our family tree. I guess there’s something unique about our bloodline or something. But there’s no papers. Nothing. Anyhow, the man I always thought of as Uncle Saburo is actually just a lawyer. Sis called him uncle out of respect, but he’s not a blood relation.”
“You were not … neglected?”
“No, no. I had Sis, and she had her job at Midori’s. And then Suuzu and Argent happened.” Akira pulled threads of cabbage from his sandwich. “All that to say … the only real record we have of our parents is Tsumiko’s memory.”
“And what did she have to say?”
“Umm … Dad was patient and kind, and he loved plants. She says she used to play with the stones in the trays that held his bonsai collection.” Akira thought back. “Other than that, he seemed to be a scientist or something. Maybe? I mean, he had to be a reaver. Or an unregistered reaver. There’s almost no other way Sis could be a beacon, otherwise.”
“Almost,” agreed Tabi-oji. “What kinds of things did you want to know?”
Akira shrugged. “Was he as kind as Sis remembers?”
“He has always been unfailingly kind where his children are concerned, but with the rest of us …?” Tabi-oji laughed. “I would call Naoki stubborn. Very sure of what he believes is the right course. And something of a rebel.”
“Was he a reaver?”
“He is a reaver, yes. Though he essentially vowed out.”
Akira couldn’t imagine leaving the In-between once he was a part of it, but he wanted to hear Tabi-oji out before plaguing him with questions he might be about to answer.
“The home into which you were born was indeed filled with plants, but there were far more books. Naoki is the studious type. A scientist, yes, but also a researcher.”
“Tsumiko is that way, too!” Akira was ridiculously excited by this hint of a family resemblance. “She’s been studying all kinds of old books lately, scriptures and prophecies and legends and things. Anything, really, so long as there are dragons involved.”
Tabi-oji’s jaw worked. “Dragons?”
“Yeah, umm … it’s a long story.” He took a big bite of sandwich.
Unfortunately, Tabi-oji simply waited for him to chew and swallow. “Why is Tsumiko interested in dragons?”
“Mostly on account of Kyrie. Her son. I mean, he’s adopted, but he’s hers. She’s a good mom.” With a small smile, he shared, “All the kids, the crossers who live at Stately House, they call her Lady.”
“Dragons are dangerous,” Tabi-oji whispered.
“They can be,” Akira agreed. “That doesn’t mean they all are.”
“Naoki listened to a dragon and nearly lost everything he holds dear.”
Akira had noticed it before. He was doing it again. Maybe it was nothing, but … maybe it was important. “Why do you speak of him in the present tense? Is … is it because my dad’s alive in your memories?”
“No, my dear boy.” And with a sad smile, Tabi-oji said, “It is because Naoki is alive.”
“I’m sorry?”
“So am I.” He looked away and asked, “What did your sister have to say about the photo you took of us? The selfie.”
“Umm … come to think of it.” Akira flicked to his messages and frowned in confusion. “I guess I forgot to send it.”
“A small oversight. No harm done.” With a reassuring smile, Tabi-oji said, “It is not important.”
But it was. Akira had been excited to tell Sis about meeting one of their father’s friends.
“It is for the best. Some memories should fade.”
Akira looked away, and his attention snared on a scattering of small red flower petals on the pavers. The puff of a breeze sent them tumbling away. Red? Akira glanced around. None of the flowering plants in the courtyard were red. He rubbed at the tattoo on his shoulder, trying to force his thoughts into order. It almost felt like … dragon sway.
“You’re not a dragon,” Akira said, sure of that.
Tabi-oji quietly answered, “No.”
“But you are Amaranthine.”
“What gives you that impression?”
Akira frowned. “You are. It’s okay, you know. I don’t mind. Which clan do you belong to?”
“I am alone. No clan.” With a small shake of his head that sent the bells in his kanzashi jingling, he said, “As my name implies, I am simply a wanderer.”
“Were you part of my family somehow?”
Tabi-oji’s expression gentled. “What makes you think so?”
Akira didn’t realize the reason was so true until he spoke it aloud. “You smell like home.”
TWENTY-FIVE
Moonlighting
Nothing out of the ordinary happened all that day at the Amory, and Akira spent the evening in high spirits. One hour after the young man fell asleep, Juuyu eased from the bed, satisfied that his duties to his brother and to his team were done.
He warded the bed against sound, set up a folding screen he’d located the evening before, lofted a handful of softly glowing crystals, and set to work extracting a tall, boxy cabinet from amidst the clutter on the landing below their room. Juuyu placed it against the wall. The cabinet front swung open, revealing a close-set series of wide sliding trays. Perhaps it had been designed for map storage. Or geological samples. He’d even seen something similar used to preserve musical scores. Any important papers Juuyu found would be sorted here.
Easing carefully downstairs, he selected a small pile of documents and photographs he’d set aside earlier. School papers. Newspaper clippings. A black-and-white photograph of Fumiko seated in a rocking chair, nursing an infant. A more recent one in which Fumiko led a little girl by the hand along the beach.
Presumably, the things he located at the tops of piles or in the fronts of storerooms were more recent. As he worked his way toward the bottom and toward the back, he’d uncover older and older items. Like an archeological excavation.
But one thing was bothering him. “Zuzu?”
Arms slid around his waist from behind, and the tree asked, “Yes?”
“You are in complete seclusion here.”
“Except for the interns, yes.”
“All comings and goings are strictly controlled.”
“Barriers keep us safe from every direction.”
Juuyu hummed. “Thus far, I have found a reference to three different reavers, and each appears to have fathered a child with Fumiko. How does she meet these men?”
“They send them. It’s in the contract.”
“What contract?”
“We are kept secret and kept safe, and in exchange, Sister gives the reavers children.”
Juuyu tried to hide his anger. “How many?”
“All of them.” Zuzu sidled around to face Juuyu, clearly puzzled by his response. “Sister’s children are always strong. This pleases the reavers.”
“How many times …?” He was too upset to finish his own sentence and hissed.
“The contract is for one child per century.”
“And she accepts this? Do they give her any choice?”
Zuzu giggled. “Our interns are always females. We know when it is time for a child because they send a group of males. Sister chooses a favorite.”
“I see,” he said stiffly.
Zuzu touched the photographs he held, smiling softly. “Look closer, Juuyu. Look at my sister. Once a century, Fumiko is allowed to be happy for a little while. Or longer. Some stayed, and we had nice big families. We’re a dynasty, you know.”
“I was unaware.” Juuyu grappled with a sense of injustice, but calmly replied, “All the more reason to set her house in order.”
“Will you let me help?”
Juuyu warbled softly. “I will be relying on you.”
“I know!” Zuzu vanished. Moments later, she was back and pushing a small sheaf of papers into his hands. “You will need these.”
They were portraits—pencil, charcoal, ink—on aged paper. Each depicted a smiling child of about ten years. There were names, but not in English. Three languages were represented, and he couldn’t fathom the additional notations.
Half Marrow, gold as honey mead
7th of Honeysuckle, low and heavy
Tinder and 18, biting night, stars bright
Fullness of Maiden, auspicious pink
“Do you recall the year each of these were done?”
“Hmm?” Zuzu nodded and shook her head. “The dates are right there. Before the reavers came, we used the moons. A lone wolf taught us. We could not have survived without her protection.”
Details like this enriched a chronicle. Excitement stirred, and Juuyu made up his mind. One drawer per century. He asked, “Who brokered the contract?”
“Linlu Dimityblest, on behalf of Glint Starmark.”
Juuyu blinked. “So there will be a record.”
“We’re a dynasty,” she repeated softly. “Our children were so good.”
“What name was given to the dynasty?”
“Mine.”
He cocked his head to one side. “I must confess, I have never heard of the Zuzu dynasty.”
She dimpled and said, “My given name is Kazuki.”
Juuyu riffled to the last picture she’d brought out, which was certainly Zuzu as a child. Her name was spelled with the kanji for “one tree.” Something that belatedly brought a fresh detail into focus. “Fumiko is an artist?”
“Sometimes.” Zuzu’s expression turned wistful. “She put away her paints when Soren died.”
Birds were stirring even before the sky began to lighten, which hastened Juuyu’s steps toward the guesthouse. “Sinder, I need some things.”
Turning from his computer, Sinder beamed at him. “Thank all four winds. Work! Does this mean we have a lead?”
Juuyu eased into an apologetic posture. “Can you find a listing of the moon calendar used by the packs?”
“The Seven Score Moons? Easy. Want me to print it out for you?”
“Please.”
“Is this relevant to the case?” Sinder’s look was knowing.
“I need it in regards to a side project.”
“Fumiko’s chronicle?”
Juuyu cautiously inclined his head. He probably shouldn’t be using their resources for what amounted to a personal matter.
Swiveling to face his computer screen, Sinder typed and clicked as he said, “Zuzu’s beyond excited. It’s all she could talk about this morning.”
“She was with you?”
“For a while. She likes to watch me fish.” The printer whirred to life. “Seems they don’t get many dragons in these parts. Mostly seals. And the odd comet.”
“Comet?”
“So she says.” Sinder folded his hands behind his neck. “Sashimi for breakfast? Or Colt and Hallow are conspiring to do a fry-up on the beach after the changing of the guard.”
“Who will be with Moon?”
“My turn. At least until Hallow is sated and sleepy.” Hopping up to pull a short stack from the printer tray, Sinder said, “Speaking of which … you’re going to be late. Akira’s an early riser now that he’s no longer jetlagged.”
“Thank you.” Juuyu skimmed the listing. “Seven score. The packs actually mark time via 140 unique moons?”
“It’s actually 144 if you add in the migrating moons. But who’s counting?” Sinder made a face and pointed to the door.
Akira stood there, barefoot and wearing a hoodie over his pajama pants. His hair was a mess. Juuyu was already preening away his bedhead before murmuring, “I apologize. I am late.”
“It’s no big deal. I’m early. And Zuzu knew where you’d be. Everything okay?”
“Nothing to worry about,” Sinder promised. “Juuyu was just giving me some things to do.”
Juuyu inclined his head. “There was one other thing. It has come to my attention that Fumiko is an artist of some talent. However, the only supplies I found during my review of the contents of her home were unusable. Creative occupation might improve her mood. Find out if she would like new paints and canvases?”
Akira raised his hand. “I know where there’s an art store. It’s close. I passed it on my way to the museum yesterday.”
Sinder raised his hand. “You were at the Amory yesterday?”
“Sure. I had lunch at Masterpiece Sandwiches.”
“That’s so weird.” Sinder looked to Juuyu. “I swear, I never saw him.”
TWENTY-SIX
Seascape
Once Juuyu excused himself for work, Antigone chased Akira out of her kitchen, adamant that she needed no help with dishes. So he faced the stairway’s obstacle course and formulated a different plan. Fumiko hadn’t come downstairs for breakfast. Maybe she’d be up for a walk to that little doughnut place he’d found.
Quickly changing into street clothes, he stole up the spiral staircase to her room, softly calling, “Fumiko-nee? Am I intruding?”
“Akira? It’s fine.”
From his position on the staircase, he spied her propped in bed, reading. She looked so much like Tsumiko in that moment, he grinned. “Did you sleep at all last night?” he teased.
Zuzu was suddenly sitting on the top step, blocking his view. “She did! Juuyu should sing her lullabies every night!”
“I know, right? Suuzu spoils me with songs.” Now that he knew Suuzu was coming soon, the days ahead felt long and empty. Filling the time was part of what motivated him to ask, “You liked the pizza, yeah?”
Fumiko sat up in bed. “It was good.”
“Want to try something else?”
“Did you smuggle another treat past Antigone?”
Akira laughed. “I was hoping to sneak you past her.”
She slid from bed, padding over in her nightgown, to kneel beside Zuzu. “What do you mean?”
“Will you go for a walk with me? I found this little place that sells doughnuts right out of the fryer. It’s not far.”
“I can’t leave Zuzu.”
“You could,” countered her sister. “You could.”
Akira looked between them. “Is two blocks too far? I feel like we would still be under Zuzu’s branches.”
Zuzu touched her sister’s face. “Akira will hold your hand.”
“I’m a very good hand-holder,” he promised. “I even hold Sinder’s hand when we cross the street.”
Fumiko’s expression gentled. “You won’t let go?”
“Not until you’re ready,” he promised, feeling uncommonly gallant. “Come down to my room when you’re ready.”
“I’ll be quick,” she whispered.
Minutes later, Zuzu hugged them both close. Akira blinked, and he was in a different location. It took a moment to orient himself. They were next to the flower shop, which hadn’t yet opened for business.
“We skipped the gate?” he asked. “What about the barrier?”
Zuzu simply smiled … and vanished.
Fumiko said, “She can come and go as she pleases. The barriers mostly hide her existence. And filter out pollen.”
“So that’s how it is!” Akira offered his hand. “Hungry?”
She slipped her hand into his, which is how he knew she was shaking.
