Kimiko and the Accidental Proposal

by Forthright

  She guessed that this principle explained why New Saga had such an unusual dress code. In most schools in this part of the world, no matter what grade level, differences were banished by uniforms. New Saga’s non-reavers held to this tradition with high-collared black uniforms with gold buttons for the boys, pleated skirts and wide collars with knotted scarves for the girls.

  Kimiko herself was dressed in reaver garb—fitted breeches and plush winter tunics that came in a variety of muted colors depending on specialization. She wore the basic black of general studies. To her relief, most of the other reavers were the same. But several had already managed to distinguish themselves. Their tunics stood out. Willow and mulberry. Indigo and plum. Coffee and clay.

  She jogged lightly up a few flights of stairs and paused at a window. The fourth floor view on this side of the building was impressive—snowy woods and a frozen lake. Property generously set aside for the school’s use by Harmonious Starmark.

  A rowdy group came up behind her, and someone clipped her shoulder in passing.

  “Sorry! Didn’t notice you there!” he exclaimed, hands upraised.

  Wolves really did travel in packs, even here. And his remark stung more than it should have. As a reaver, she’d never had much presence.

  “Oh, little sister. I’m as rude as I am clumsy.” Light brown eyes wide, tail tucking, he reached for her hand. Then dropped it as if burned. He babbled to himself in another language, then switched back to Japanese. “I don’t remember if I’m allowed to touch.”

  His accent was decidedly American.

  Kimiko quickly signaled to reassure him and enunciated carefully. “Local citizens will shy away from the familiarity, but reavers will understand.” Taking his hand between hers, she shyly added, “Brother wolf.”

  The Amaranthine’s tail swayed, and Kimiko’s heart swelled. He seemed like such a nice guy.

  He glanced along the hall, where his two packmates waited. All three of the young wolves were quite tall, broad in the shoulder, with ebony skin and shaggy black hair. He called to them in English, and their posture shifted to indicate patience. And amusement.

  With more confidence, he gathered both her hands into his own. “Ploom-ret Nightspangle, but everyone calls me Ploom.”

  “I’m Kimiko Miyabe, and I’m fine, Ploom. Go ahead with your packmates. We all need to get to class.”

  Bending until they were nose-to-nose, he softly repeated, “Kimiko Miyabe. I will remember.”

  “Find me anytime.”

  His fangs flashed in a grateful grin before he hurried away.

  She followed more slowly, but not so far back that she didn’t see which classroom the Nightspangle contingent entered. They were in Class 3-C.

  The same as her.

  Kimiko stepped through the classroom door and sized up the milling students. They looked like a bunch of middle schoolers at their first mixer. Only instead of boys on one end and girls on the other, their class had divided neatly into thirds.

  All the Amaranthine stood at the front of the room; humans clustered at the back. And reavers fanned out between them, assuming their traditional role as gatekeepers, guardians, and go-betweens. Kimiko crossed to the long row of windows and, finding the sill wide enough, perched there to see what might happen next.

  Moments later, a stocky, graying woman in a willow-green tunic strolled in and smiled sweetly. “Welcome again to New Saga! I’m Ms. Reeves, and I’ll be your homeroom teacher. My reaver designation is diplomat, and it will be my pleasure to guide your learning this year.”

  Kimiko tried to place her accent, though it was faint. A lot of diplomats spent their internships in Belgium, so maybe French? She wondered if travel had contributed to the woman’s air of confident competence. Must be nice.

  Ms. Reeves surveyed them, blue eyes taking on a shine. “First things first, we must overcome all this shyness. We’ll be sorting you into triads.”

  “What’s a triad?” called one of the girls from the tight cluster at the back.

  Their teacher acknowledged the question with a nod. “You’ll be dividing into integrated groups of three. Those representing the general populace, please take a seat at one of the tables.”

  A few students moved to obey, spreading out.

  Kimiko was used to classrooms with long rows of single desks, but this one almost looked like a restaurant, with comfortable seats arranged around three-sided tables. She was paying attention to other differences now. High ceilings, windows lining two walls, smooth wood underfoot, and an utter lack of light fixtures. Hanging baskets filled two corners of the room with greenery, and … yes, she was quite sure she caught a brief flutter and flash of Ephemera hiding amidst the leaves.

  “One each, please,” Ms. Reeves called when two girls tried to stick together. “Since triads will remain together for the duration of the year, I will ask our Amaranthine students to decide who they would like as a partner.”

  “Do Rivven always get to pick first?”

  Kimiko flinched at the popular—if improper—word choice, but the boy seemed more curious than anything.

  “The correct term is Amaranthine,” Ms. Reeves said firmly. “And yes. This is both a matter of courtesy and necessity. The Amaranthine will make their decision based on different criteria than you might expect. Things no human can sense or alter.”

  “Like scent,” offered one of the reaver girls. “And the clarity and resonance of our souls.”

  “Yes.” Ms. Reeves signaled to her inhuman students while she talked. “When you are chosen, it will be because your classmate thinks they can make lasting peace with you.”

  Another hand popped up. “What do we do after we find a match?”

  Kimiko had to lean to one side to see the short boy. A male phoenix stood behind him, both arms wrapped securely around his slender shoulders. Even though he wore the standard human uniform, the boy didn’t look remotely uneasy in the Amaranthine’s embrace.

  Ms. Reeves glanced at her class list. “And you are…?”

  “Akira Hajime, and this is my best friend Suuzu Farroost. We’ve been rooming together since middle school, so we’ve already made peace.”

  “Do you want to broaden your experience by trading partners?”

  Immediately, Suuzu’s hold tightened, and his eyes narrowed.

  Akira’s grin was apologetic. “We’d rather stick together, sensei.”

  “So I see.” The woman offered peaceable signs. “Relax, Suuzu. Your friendship with Akira is exactly the sort of camaraderie we’re trying to encourage. You may consider yourself the first pair. Once we have a few more, I’ll ask that our students of reaver descent present themselves for consideration.”

  Kimiko watched in fascination as the Amaranthine considered their options. Some hung back, allowing the wolves, dog, and bear to have first choice. She knew this wasn’t any kind of hierarchy. Rather their sense of smell was keenest, so their needs were more particular.

  An uneasy titter came from one side of the room, where a wolf clansman slowly wove between tables. He nodded politely to a couple of girls before offering his hand to a wide-eyed boy.

  Ms. Reeves kept right on talking, her voice a calm backdrop to these activities. “Reavers, let your potential partners know your designation. I see most of you are undecided. That’s fine. Your classmates may be the key to uncovering your unique aptitudes.”

  A soft gasp came from a table near Kimiko’s perch. A burly young male with a crest from one of the bear clans had cornered the smallest girl in the class. She seemed to be trembling, which surprised Kimiko. Hadn’t these people applied knowing they’d be in close contact with Amaranthine?

  “My name is Brev.” He crouched, balancing on the balls of his feet, clawed hands hanging loosely across his knees. “Will you tell me your name?”

  Kimiko couldn’t hear what the girl mumbled, but the bear with his shock of golden-brown hair smiled softly and joined her at the table.

  If only finding suitable ma
rriage applicants were half so simple.

  Kimiko glanced around to check on Ploom, but the short boy suddenly stepped up and thrust out his hand. “Are you the sort who likes to be picked instead of doing her own picking? Because if you wait much longer, you won’t have a choice.”

  Sliding from the sill, she realized he was right. Only two or three other reavers had yet to join a pair. “I suppose I do tend to wait and see.”

  “Akira Hajime,” he reminded.

  And when she accepted his handclasp, he held on.

  SIX

  Forming a Triad

  “What do you say? Want to be our reaver?” And without giving her a chance to respond, he launched into a list of reasons they didn’t need an intermediary.

  She looked him over while she heard him out.

  Akira was several centimeters shorter than Kimiko. He’d been quick to make himself comfortable—top button undone, sleeves rolled up, hands in pockets. Not that they stayed there. He gestured a lot with them and tended to go up on tiptoe when making a point. It all gave him a buoyant, enthusiastic air.

  Kimiko liked him. But this decision—like so many others—wasn’t truly hers to make. Bracing herself for disappointment, she sought Suuzu’s gaze.

  Unlike his friend, the phoenix gave away very little. His reserve was imposing, and this close, Kimiko could actually sense a little of the strength he held in check. Suuzu was only a shade taller than she was and very slender. Brown skin, a hooked nose, and black hair that showed signs of product and combing … and a lack of cooperation. Kimiko hoped her smile wouldn’t be misunderstood, but she couldn’t help cheering on those rebel curls. They softened the intimidating young male’s strict demeanor.

  Akira rocked back and forth on his heels. “Do you have a name?”

  “Kimiko Miyabe.” She belatedly offered her palms. “Do you think we can get along, Suuzu Farroost?”

  “You do not offend my eyes, nor do you offend my senses.” His hands settled over hers, hot and dry. “In truth, I did not notice you.”

  “Suuzu!” Akira punched his friend’s arm and hissed, “She’s a girl! And she’s a reaver. Even I know that’s kinda rude.”

  Akira was worried about her feminine sensibilities? This was the first time any guy had ever tried to defend her honor. Hardly necessary, but kind of cute.

  Bewilderment settled on Suuzu’s features, his strikingly orange eyes widening. And for the first time, he looked young.

  Akira folded his arms over his chest and gruffly muttered, “Apologize to Kimi.”

  An increasingly flustered phoenix angled his face away, assuming a posture of regret. “I have been thoughtless. Please forgive my words. They were unnecessarily sharp.”

  “It’s okay.” Kimiko managed a small smile. “I rank pretty low, so Amaranthine don’t usually register my presence when there are brighter souls around.”

  “Really?” Akira looked to Suuzu for confirmation. “Is that how it works?”

  The phoenix’s gaze sharpened, and Kimiko consciously slowed her breathing and relaxed her posture. Trust. Because there was little else she could offer. She’d passed her certification for tending during her first year at Ingress Academy, but hers wasn’t the sort of soul that attracted interest. No one ever came to her for tending. But reavers of low ranking were encouraged to learn their limitations so they could work safely within them.

  Kimiko hadn’t been tapped by any of the High Amaranthine on campus, so she’d presented herself to the many Kith fostered at Ingress. Retired from active service, these were aged beasts whose limbs had grown creaky and whose sight was dimming. But their minds were sharp, and their wordless guidance had strengthened Kimiko’s self-possession.

  Suuzu finally said, “Not the brightest soul in this room, but certainly the brightest in our group.”

  Akira blinked, then burst out laughing. “There you have it, Kimi! You’re our one and only reaver.”

  The phoenix gestured toward their table. “I will accept Kimiko Miyabe for your sake.”

  “Mine?” Akira led the way across the room. “How come she’s mine?”

  “You are in need of information a reaver possesses.”

  “And you’re not?”

  Suuzu pulled out a chair for his friend. “If I have questions, I will pose them.”

  “Kimi’s not just a resource, you know.” Akira waved her over and made her sit in his chair. “We’re friends now.”

  The phoenix quietly took a seat.

  Although he hadn’t said a word, Akira frowned. “Oh, come on. I’m not asking you to take her as a nestmate or anything.”

  Kimiko knew—in the textbook way of knowing—that Amaranthine of the bird clans were slow to trust. She wasn’t about to rush Suuzu, but Akira wasn’t half so reticent. He was already calling her Kimi.

  “We’re a triad.” Akira glanced at the front of the room before flipping his chair around and straddling it backwards. “You heard Hisoka-sensei. We’re supposed to be setting a good example for the whole world.”

  Suuzu sighed.

  “We’ve talked about this.” Akira flapped a hand. “We’re still roommates—nestmates. That won’t change just because we make other friends.”

  Now that was interesting. Kimiko asked, “You consider Akira to be a nestmate?”

  “He is mine.” Suuzu’s voice lowered. “He understands it as a bond of brotherhood.”

  Intrigued, she turned to the boy. “Hajime-kun, are you familiar with the nuances of such a pledge? An honor like this isn’t given lightly, nor is it ever revoked.”

  “Fine by me.” Akira grinned. “I like knowing he’ll stick around forever. I’m an orphan, you know. So this is a big deal for me, having someone to rely on. Suuzu will always be here for me.”

  For the first time, Kimiko thought she understood why the world still needed reavers. Because even two friends, with all kinds of trust and loyalty already established, could miss nuances of meaning. She turned to Suuzu and jumbled several signals—confusion, sympathy, apology, and a willingness to mediate.

  Even though she hardly knew what she meant, Suuzu seemed to understand. “Enough, reaver. It is enough.”

  And with that Kimiko decided that she liked this young phoenix. He’d given a human boy something rare and precious. Even if Akira didn’t understand everything, he expected to remain friends with Suuzu his whole life. Over time, and with the learning he’d receive here at New Saga, maybe Akira would move past the limits of impressions and assumptions … into the realm of true understanding.

  “Partners?” Kimiko stretched across the table, offering them each a hand.

  “Friends.” Akira went one better, locking his fingers around her wrist and reaching for Suuzu.

  The phoenix completed the link, and although he offered no words, Kimiko felt the tentative brush of his presence against her soul. Feather-light and friendly.

  The gentle intimacy filled her with the awe of discovery. Yet there was something hauntingly familiar about that fleeting connection. If only she could remember why.

  SEVEN

  Panic Attack

  Tenma had really only applied to the integration program because his father insisted. For the sake of the company. For the sake of the future. New Saga was supposed to be a good place for his lesser son to meet a whole new breed of influential families. Except Tenma didn’t think Amaranthine priorities ran to market shares and mergers.

  His father had been pleased when Tenma’s letter of acceptance arrived, but the man barely looked beyond a few key words—elite, exclusive, unrivaled, unprecedented. Enrollment in the inaugural class would add gloss to Tenma Subaru’s vitae. But it was left to Tenma to navigate the halls of a school teeming with strangeness.

  There were plenty of normal things—uniforms, shoe lockers, stairwells, club posters, and homeroom assignments. He could tell that some effort had been made to put average humans on familiar footing.

  This should be thrilling. Hadn’t he been looking f
orward to meeting a wolf? Then why was his heart pounding, his skin prickling? Why were his palms slick and his nerves a quivering wreck?

  Inhuman races. Tenma had been as thrilled as the next kid when the Emergence hit the news three years ago … almost four, now. He’d been in his last year of middle school. Impressionable. Idealistic. And clearly an idiot.

  He’d never been bothered by the photos, the broadcasts, the documentaries. But seeing a Rivven on a screen was very different than sharing space with them. They were beautiful people, but wasn’t that how it worked in all the stories? Danger lurking behind a pleasing veneer. And he knew that while they might look human, they were actually animals. Somehow.

  Was it too late to transfer out?

  All through school, Tenma had been that slouching, awkwardly tall boy with glasses. He’d shied away from the attention his height commanded, so it was almost a relief when he realized that the majority of Amaranthine students outstripped him. But it was unnerving to look directly into inhuman eyes; their wildness fed his uneasiness.

  The Rivven greeted him with polite nods and peaceful expressions.

  So graceful. Even gracious.

  Still, his anxiety mounted as he climbed stairs.

  Nerves made him hyper-sensitive to signs of danger. Many of the Rivven had fangs or claws, and some retained animalistic features. Like the wolves and their tails. And Tenma was sure he’d spotted a pair of antlers disappearing around a corner.

  Maybe he should latch onto a reaver. They were supposed to be able to contain a Rivven, keep humanity safe, things like that. Once he started looking for them, he realized that there were just as many of these so-called guardians of humanity walking through the halls.

  And reason finally asserted itself.

  Equal parts. Evenly divided. Evenly matched?