Mikoto and the Reaver Village (Amaranthine Saga #4) - Forthright . Page 0,43
had admitted that he wasn’t exactly a reaver, although he had to be something similar. Otherwise, how else could he tend at all? Which was apparently his method for healing the Broken.
A mystery and a miracle worker.
His prismatic remark made no sense. And colors? That wasn’t how Mikoto saw his connection to the Amaranthine.
But Tenma seemed harmless. He meant well, and he presented himself as a modest and unassuming man. Though hard to fathom. All through dinner, Tenma sat quietly, ate sparingly, and mostly listened to everyone else’s conversations.
With traces of chagrin, Mikoto realized he was probably being equally inscrutable. Though he ate with better appetite. Uncle was a good cook, and Zisa fluttered around the table, nudging extra onto everyone’s plates. Even Noble, who’d curled up between Fend’s front paws, received the odd morsel.
Had there ever been such a dinner party? Mikoto doubted the years had brought such a group to Uncle’s table.
They lingered over the meal, but Ginkgo finally announced it was time for the young ones to prepare for bed. Their cue to disband.
Making his way to Uncle’s side, Mikoto mumbled his thanks and surrendered his hand, which Waaseyaa held until Zisa wafted over and cozied up. Nothing was said, exactly. Not even goodbye, since Glint was still monopolizing Mikoto’s room and Yulin’s attention.
Tenma migrated over to offer parting courtesies.
“Mikoto will walk you home,” said Zisa. “Unless you would like to sleep here? I have a house.”
“That’s not necessary,” Tenma murmured. “You’ve been too generous.”
“I insist!”
Mikoto gently squeezed Zisa’s shoulders. “You are a good host. I am certain he will want to return.”
The tree pouted. “That is not why. And I still insist. I will even go along, to make sure.”
“I know.” Zisa lay his head against Mikoto’s chest and murmured, “I only want to help them.”
To appease the tree, Mikoto said, “We can walk Tenma to the boundary. That way, he will know the way back to you.”
“Yes!” All brightness, Zisa gave his brother a soft-eyed look. “This is important.”
“I will be waiting,” Waaseyaa promised.
Tenma followed the conversation with an expression of polite confusion. Mikoto wasn’t sure what else to do, so he reinforced Zisa’s invitation. “Let us walk you to the boundary. It would be our pleasure.”
The man accepted with a nod. “I would appreciate knowing how to return.”
Zisa seized their hands and nearly skipped to the door.
Tenma didn’t seem to mind the handling at all. In fact, he laced his fingers with Zisa’s and held on tight. Mikoto found himself hoping the man would stay in Wardenclave. Not many were so accepting of Zisa’s little ways.
Barely halfway to the boundary, Zisa stopped short. “Now,” he said, as serious as Mikoto had ever seen him. “Tell Tenma what happened.”
“When you were smaller than you are now, but not as small as Gregor.” Zisa wasn’t very good with timeframes, but when he let go and stepped back, he put out a hand, describing the correct height. It was a good hint.
“Zisa, are you talking about when I was nine?”
“No. You talk.” The tree made little flutters with his hands. “Tell him about the day when everything changed.”
Which could only mean … Lupe. Lowering his voice, Mikoto asked, “Do you mean the day I almost drowned? Why do you want me to share that story?”
“It matters,” said Zisa. And again to Tenma. “It matters.”
“I believe you.” Tenma took a receptive posture. “If Mikoto-kun is willing.”
Mikoto didn’t mind telling, but he didn’t understand why. Touching Zisa’s shoulder, he asked, “Why does it matter?”
“Because that is the day everything changed,” he patiently replied.
“I do not understand.”
“Maybe I will,” Tenma suggested.
“It was an accident,” Mikoto awkwardly began. “We were down by the river. I slipped and fell in.”
Not much of a story, really. A dozen words covered the basics.
Zisa frowned. “You left out the important part.”
“L-lupe … she ….” Mikoto stopped and restarted. “A friend of the family dived in after me and pulled me out. She saved my life.”
Tenma was listening closely, watching closely. He asked, “Were drastic measures required?”
“I … I guess you could say that. The other kids teased me some, saying she kissed me.” Mikoto offered an awkward shrug. “I needed CPR.”
“Breath,” said Zisa, who bounced on his heels. “Wind.”
To Mikoto’s way of thinking, the kiss was the important part, even if he couldn’t really remember it. Only the elation and how the air had tasted. And the warmth of being hugged and