by Forthright
“You don’t need it.”
Gingko’s gaze slid to the side. “Doesn’t stop me from craving it.”
“What’s it like?” Tsumiko asked. “I mean, do souls have a flavor or something? How do you even know you’re taking something in?”
“Help a guy out, and I’ll try to find words.”
Giving in to curiosity, Tsumiko reached for her bracelet’s clasp, but Gingko caught her hand.
“Don’t! He’ll know if you go full bore.” Scooting even closer, he laid his head against her knee. “To be sneaky, I’ll have to take it slow.”
“For a little while.”
As the trickle washed over him, he sighed contentedly, and when she turned her attention to his ears, scratching and stroking, he groaned appreciatively.
“Elation,” Gingko mumbled.
“What?”
“What this is like,” he said. “Your presence makes me giddy. It swells up inside of me, warm and fluttery. It feels like falling in love.”
Love? Yes, there was a certain sense to Gingko’s comparison. Shouldn’t sharing a piece of your soul have the same feeling as giving someone your heart? Tsumiko hummed thoughtfully. “Have you been in love?”
“Lots of times. But it never lasts.” He turned his head to look up at her, proving a fox could pull off puppy dog eyes. “Even knowing it’ll hurt later, I can’t help wanting more.”
He wheedled like a boy for treats, craving the largeness of her soul. And Tsumiko saw no reason to withhold something she’d been blessed with in abundance. Tending wasn’t love, but couldn’t she tend lovingly? As a child of Saint Midori’s, that was the kind of life she’d learned to treasure.
“Say it’s okay.” He searched her face. “I’m not part of the contract, but I’m here. Say it’s okay for me to be here.”
Why did it sound as if Gingko needed someone’s permission to exist? Every life was precious, no matter their parentage. “We don’t need a contract to be friends. You’re as free to choose me as I am to choose you.”
“Friends, then.” Gingko rose up on his knees and bussed her cheek. “Just don’t go falling in love. I’d only break your heart, and then you’d break mine. Unless Dad killed me first. He’s pretty touchy about what’s his.”
“I thought he was mine.”
“If that was the goal, you messed it up for yourself in a big way.” Admiration lit his eyes. “The bond demands obedience, but you don’t. From what I’ve seen, you’re letting him take the lead. After the crap Dad’s been through, he’s gotta be loving it. And you.”
“Argent hates me. He told me so himself.”
“Foxes aren’t famous for being straightforward. Saying he hates you could mean anything.”
“He hates that I own him.”
“No doubt, but it’s probably more complicated than that. With foxes, it’s all about nuance.”
Tsumiko tweaked his ear. “There’s no nuance in ‘I hate you.’”
“There are plenty of possibilities. He hates that he wants you. He hates that he can’t hate you. He hates how much he doesn’t hate you.” Gingko’s eyebrows arched. “He’s got it bad.”
Utter nonsense. “If what he says and what he means are that far apart, doesn’t that mean that he’s actually fond of you?”
His smile vanished. “He hates me for real reasons.”
“Why would a father despise his own son?”
“For happening.” Gingko rubbed his cheek against her knee. “A long ways back, the head of the Hajime family got greedy. He wanted more Amaranthine slaves, and breeding them was the safest option. They forced Dad to perform, and he knocked up his mistress.”
“Your mother.”
“Dad hated her, but he couldn’t harm her because of the bond.” With grim pride, Gingko said, “In a way, I avenged him. Birthing me killed her.”
TWENTY TWO
Beachcombers
From then on, whenever Tsumiko left the house to explore the grounds, Gingko fell in step beside her. He said the gardens were set for winter and didn’t need him. He said he knew her estate better than anyone and could show her the sights. He said he had nothing better to do. But Tsumiko knew better.
For lack of a better description, Gingko became Tsumiko’s playmate.
They swapped stories, issued dares, and idled away hours doing nothing in particular. Gingko coaxed her into scaling Stately House’s roof with him. Tsumiko rallied his support in building an enormous sandcastle. He showed her the spot where fireflies would rise in summer. She told him about life at Saint Midori’s, and there they stumbled onto common ground.
“No parents?” he asked.
She shook her head. “My mother’s family is in Keishi. But my brother and I grew up in boarding schools. Saint Midori’s is the only home I’ve known.”
Gingko poked at wet sand with one toe. “Sounds familiar. This is the only place I’ve ever had.”
“People say I’m sheltered.”
“Sheltered isn’t so bad. I’ve seen a few of the alternatives.” Gingko asked, “Will you bring your brother here?”
“He’ll visit over summer break.” Tossing a stick onto the driftwood barrier, she gazed out across a mirror gray sea. “Maybe he’ll love it and want to stay.”
“What’s not to love? You have a grand house and a beach, and Sansa always goes a little crazy in the kitchen when her brood is back. If mixing with Rivven and reavers isn’t enough to impress the kid, we could probably get Michael to give him driving lessons.”
“That reminds me! Akira asked if there will be any boys his age.”
Gingko raised one finger. “So far, it’s three daughters and a son. Timur is twelve.”
Tsumiko pulled out her phone. “Akira’s fourteen.”
“Two years won’t give your brother much of an advantage if he’s as wispy as you. Timur’s got his mom’s battler build.”
“Then we can promise a boy his size.” She held up the phone, searching for an interesting backdrop for a selfie.
“Let me.” Gingko plucked it from her hand and backed up. “You can show off the enormity of my driftwood collection.”
A few taps later, and Tsumiko sent off the photo with a message:
New intelligence!
There *will* be a boy.
His name’s Timur.
He’s a reaver, battler class.
Half a minute later, Akira’s reply arrived, along with a selfie of him and Suuzu in what appeared to be a fast food restaurant.
Hey, Sis
Can’t wait
Nice twigs
But who took the picture?
I made a friend. His name’s Gingko.
Boyfriend???
Don’t be silly.
He’s so old, his hair’s silver.
He’s been Aunt Eimi’s gardener
since forever.
Gingko snickered over her shoulder. Tsumiko scrolled back up so he could see the picture Akira had sent, and Gingko gave a low whistle. “Your brother’s attracted some unusual attention. Bird types are usually really uppity.”
“He shares a dorm room with Suuzu.”
“Guess Suuzu’s decided Akira makes a good nestmate. Hope your brother doesn’t mind having a phoenix for life.”
“Suuzu’s a phoenix?”
“No doubt. Even if you overlook the nose, his coloring’s distinctive.” Gingko took a more cautious tone. “Say, Tsumiko, is your brother a reaver, too?”
Tsumiko tapped in his question.
Gingko wants to know if you’re a reaver like me.
No
After you moved, they came
and had me tested
It was kinda creepy
Hang on
I don’t get it, but Suuzu says
I haven’t hatched
What?
My soul is an egg unhatched
Warm and waiting
So he says
What does that mean?
No idea
Suuzu can’t explain
When you come, let’s see what Michael thinks.
Ok. Suuzu says not to worry
He’ll defend our nest
He says stuff like that
Thanks, Suuzu. I’m counting on you.
Gingko snickered. “Your brother better hope he’s Suuzu’s chick and not his choice.”
“They’re both boys. And they’re just kids.”
“That phoenix may look like a boy, but he’s a few centuries older than Akira.” Gingko studied the picture, then asked to see more. As he flicked through them, his expression was hard to read. “Either way, your brother’s defender is an adolescent. Suuzu’s a decent ally, but no match against a determined enemy.”
“Are you saying my brother’s in danger?”
Holding up the phone, Gingko asked, “May I?”
At Tsumiko’s nod, he began to type.
Gingko here. Why were the tests creepy?
Too much touching
And sniffing
Who tested you?
Some woman
Lady something
After, Suuzu said I reeked of fox
This is important
Both of you
Beware of foxes
Gingko hit send, and the screen flickered twice before winking out.
Tsumiko staggered as sensation slammed through her body like a silent thunderclap. Her heart leapt and her knees wobbled as reverberations shook the part of her that made her a reaver. “Wh-what …?” But she could barely hear her own voice past the ringing in her ears.
She whirled, searching for the source, but all she could see was salt-scrubbed stone and beached wood. Moving sluggishly, she followed Gingko, who stalked to the water’s edge.
Ripples marred the calm sea from a point off shore, fanning outward until they lapped at the sand, as if reaching for them.
“What was that?” Her voice felt high and tight. “Gingko?”
His ears flattened as another concussive blow jammed into them.
Gingko bared his teeth, taking short breaths, tasting the air like a wild animal. An unnerving growl started somewhere deep in his chest, and he hauled Tsumiko into his arms, making a break for the stairs.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
“Something’s attacking the wards.” Another collision battered against her very bones. Gingko lengthened his stride. “They’re coming across the water.”
TWENTY THREE
Across the Water
Tsumiko’s stomach plunged as Gingko hurtled upward, taking the stairs not two at a time, but five or seven. As reverse vertigo made breathing a problem, some distant part of her brain reeled through questions. Like where he found the strength to spring so high. And whether the steady rumble of his growl signaled aggression or anger. Or possibly fear, because his behavior had her more than a little scared.
At a shout from the top of the cliff, she craned her neck to see who’d come.
Michael. Of course. He was their ward, after all.
The man had taken to heart Tsumiko’s invitation to get comfortable, abandoning his Western-style suits. The rich lapis lazuli of his favorite tunic flashed briefly from under the knee-length coat that swung loose about his knees. He hadn’t taken the time to button it against the weather. Wielding a crystal-topped staff, Michael looked quite heroic, as if he’d stepped out of some strange fairy tale in which beasts became men and magic hid itself in the souls of the brave.
“Michael!” shouted Gingko. “Can you close that gap?”
“Not easily,” he replied with impressive calm. “Of the seven buoys we placed, two are missing. Our curiosity-seekers are exploiting the resulting weakness. Maybe they want a peek through the crack?”
“If they try, put out their eye.” Gingko set Tsumiko on her feet, but he didn’t let go. “How long have we got?”
Michael drove the end of his staff into the ground and narrowed his eyes. “Long enough.”
The man’s confidence was catching, and the fog of fear retreated enough for Tsumiko to be able to think. She asked, “How can something that attracts the Amaranthine also repel them?”
“Good question!” Taking the same tone he used during her lessons in reaver lore, he said, “The push and pull are akin to the flip sides of a magnet. Once reavers realized that their vulnerability could be realigned, they found the strength to defend themselves. Naturally, we go through a great deal of training to perfect our control.”
Tsumiko frowned. “Do you only defend? Or can you attack?”
“Ah.” Michael spared her a small smile. “My specialty is largely defensive, but yes. It’s possible for reavers to attack—even kill—an Amaranthine. But it shouldn’t come to that. We aren’t without strength.”
Right on cue, Sansa hurtled past, riding Minx. The battler lay low over her feline friend’s shoulder, a fierce expression on her face and a bared blade in her hand.
Tsumiko reached after the woman, as if to pull her back to safely. Wasn’t she risking the life of her unborn child? “What’s she doing?” Tsumiko moaned as the pair plunged over the cliff edge.
Gingko spoke between clenched teeth. “Defending her home.”
“But what if there’s more than one enemy?” Tsumiko leaned forward as the big cat reappeared on the beach, galloping through the surf. “There could be an army out there!”
“Sansa’s not alone,” said Michael. “She has us.”
Tsumiko would have asked what sort of support she was supposed to provide, but a deep growl set all her hair on end. Like in a dream, when you know there’s a monster behind you, she couldn’t bring herself to turn around.
Gingko turned first … and swore. “Dad?”
Risking a peek, Tsumiko stared fixedly at enormous paws whose claws bit deep into the lawn. Her gaze tracked upward, taking in thick fur, a tapered muzzle, and a fang-baring snarl. She was too close to being stepped on to see much else.
“Argent?” she whispered. He wasn’t simply larger than her room; he rivaled the whole house.
The colossal fox slunk away, hugging the clifftops while shadowing Sansa’s course on the beach below.
“Yeah, that’s him all right,” said Gingko. “But how’d Dad get so big?”
“He’s been living under heavy restrictions. Someone must have removed one or two.” Michael winked at Tsumiko.
Gingko gaped at his father, who crouched so close to the cliff’s edge, he teetered. “Michael, I’ve seen those broadcasts where Amaranthine show off their true forms. Dad’s gotta be on par with the Five.”
“Of course he is. Argent has an impressive pedigree. He’s from the oldest of the winter fox clans,” said Michael. “Another Mettlebright was nearly named as the vulpine representative. Indeed, many would have preferred Lady Estrella to Lady Nona.”
“Dad’s a Mettlebright?”
“You didn’t know?” he asked, sounding surprised.
“He never told me,” muttered Gingko. “Why didn’t he say anything?”
“I’m sure he had his reasons.” Michael briskly changed the subject. “How many bans did you banish, young lady?”
“All the ones he asked me to. Argent wanted to be able to fight at full strength.”
“Brilliant.” Michael flashed a tight little smile. “In doing so, you’ve spared my wife a great deal of trouble. Thank you.”
“Can’t I help you somehow?” Tsumiko asked. “Like I do Argent?”
“I’m afraid not. Reavers can often sense one another, but we cannot access another reaver’s essence.” Michael reset his feet. “Not to worry. I don’t have to hold
up much longer. They’re in position.”
“For what?” she asked.
“To turn the tables.”
And with a shimmering pop like the bursting of a bubble, the barrier that had been hiding their attacker vanished. A huge red fox with wavering tails hovered above churning water.
“Only one foe, but she towers,” Gingko muttered.
Michael coolly assessed their opponent. “Argent’s larger, and he has the high ground, but she has nine tails. That’s not a point in our favor.”
Tsumiko tried to get a fix on Argent’s whipping tails, but only made it to five before the silver fox leapt. Instead of plunging to the beach below as Minx had done, his paws found purchase in thin air. Surging upward, Argent charged out over the sea before rounding on his opponent.
“He really can fly,” Tsumiko whispered.
Michael asked, “How many other restrictions did you banish?”
How much should she say? Her exchange with Argent had been so personal, as private as prayer and just as sacred. Tsumiko countered, “How many do you know about?”
But every secondary thought vanished when the red fox attacked.
TWENTY FOUR
Found Out
The silver fox lunged at an unnatural speed, colliding with their intruder. Air whipped and parted with a thunder crack, and the sea beneath their feet chattered outward in choppy waves. Tsumiko caught the erratic sparks coming from Michael’s remaining buoys. Trampled underfoot, they lost anchor, spinning adrift, creating wider gaps in Michael’s defenses.
Jaws snapped, and the red fox’s shrilling bark sent chills along Tsumiko’s arms, setting all the fine hairs on end. This was like one of those outlandish television programs Akira had admired as a child, but vastly worse, for the giant beast poised on their doorstep held murder in her soul. And the team of heroic defenders hardly seemed up to the task.
In this battle of epic proportions, Tsumiko offered a fervent prayer that their giant would prevail.