few months prior had certainly confirmed they were real, but any time I’d tried to question her more deeply about her nature, she’d managed to artfully change the topic.
She’d told me all I wanted to know about Variant Bonds, my own Bond and the connections within it, how to follow my instincts when it came to the Light, even about her own Lighthunter abilities. She was a well of knowledge, but sitting there, I realized just how well she’d avoided my questions about other Lighthunters and why the world thought they were a myth.
“I’m sorry. I don’t understand.” I frowned. “What do the Lighthunters have to do with it?”
“They are called Lighthunters because they are most well-known for finding the threads, connecting the Bonds. But they are also our protectors. Or they were. They shielded us from those who thought Vivids were dangerous, who thought it wasn’t natural to have that much Light. They did a very good job hiding us, and we were so rare already. Then there were fewer and fewer Vivids being born. I hadn’t heard of a single other like me until my grandson came with news of an extraordinary American girl.” She smiled at him, then at me, the deep laugh lines around her eyes and mouth crinkling. By this stage, the whole table had fallen silent, their full attention on the matriarch and her wisdom.
“It is not surprising to me that between how rare we are and the Lighthunters’ work, the world simply . . . forgot.”
“I remembered.” Mr. Takata spoke in Japanese, but the words were simple enough that I understood them. “I remembered your stories, grandmother.”
She patted him on the hand, pride in her eyes.
“Please excuse me if this is rude, but where are your Variants?” I asked before I could stop myself. I had a feeling I knew the answer, since none of them were by her side.
“Passed. All four of them. Two were killed a very long time ago, one died in an accident, and one about fifteen years ago from old age.”
I looked down the table at my Bondmates—my strong, beautiful, fiercely protective men. I couldn’t imagine losing any of them. The mere thought sent pain shooting through my chest, and I involuntarily rubbed the spot. When I turned back to face the old woman, she was watching the hand at my breastbone.
“Yes, it is painful. Your connection is strong. You would not be Vivid without it.” She stared into my eyes as though she could see right into my soul. I remained silent.
“You were made to make them strong.” She gestured down the table with a swoop of her hand. “But they make you strong too. They cannot do what they do without your Light, but you cannot do what you do without them. That is why Vivids have more Variants in their Bonds than regular Vitals do. With practice, you may have learned to draw and transfer Light without a Bond, but it would have required an extreme amount of focus, would have been very taxing on your body. I have not glowed since my Variants died. I am old and weak and no longer have their strength to make it possible. Your Bond is the same. You can take not only from them but from all sources of Light around you because they give so freely. It is the ultimate symbiotic relationship.”
“I make them strong, but they make me strong too.” I parroted her words, and she nodded. I’d never thought of it like that, but it made sense.
In a regular Bond, the Vital channeled the Light and transferred it to their Variants; the Vital made the Variants strong. But in a Vivid Bond—in our Bond—they also made me strong. I could take from one and transfer to another. I could draw Light into me simply by willing it to come, and I could push it out to them without moving a muscle. The longer I’d been with them, the stronger our connection had grown, the easier it had become.
Yes, training helped, but my Light undeniably became more a part of me the more I used it. Every time my Bond and I got closer physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually, I got stronger.
I brought us all together, tied us irrevocably to each other. I made them stronger than they ever could’ve been alone.
But they provided the foundation on which our collective strength was built. Each one of them was a solid, unwavering pillar in his own way.